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Steve would never admit to wanting. Nothing of substance, at least. It's easy to admit wanting the kids to be quiet or to have Eddie slow the van the hell down, but the stuff of substance, the stuff that plagues his thoughts when all the lights are off, is another story entirely. Because Steve’s desires are embarrassing . No one wants to hear about the rich kid who was handed everything but his parents' love on a silver platter. How, now, he wants nothing more than to be wanted.
It was easier when he was King Steve. When he conformed to the standards his parents set because if he couldn’t have their love he could at least have their approval, which was close enough. And King Steve was desired by the girls of Hawkins High , no one could deny that.
Problem was, King Steve was a douchebag. That was a bit of a hard pill to swallow. No one really thinks of themselves as a dick, no matter the evidence to the contrary. People, in general, are very adept at rationalizing their own actions, and Steve Harrington was no exception. That is, not until Nancy Wheeler punched him in the metaphorical face with it.
It had taken time, but he’s definitely not King Steve anymore, and assuredly doesn’t want to be. He’s not really Steve “the hair” Harrington anymore either, and, even if he hasn’t totally reckoned with it yet, Harrington is feeling less and less like him the more and more time his parents are away.
Steve still feels like him, though. Platonic soulmate with a capital P gives him that warm, fuzzy feeling of wholehearted, loving acceptance. Big boy and Stevie and sweetheart , though, make him feel desired again.
Names are funny that way.
“ Stevie ,” Eddie moans, flopping himself over the edge of the sofa. “ Pay attention to me. ”
Stevie Stevie Stevie-
Steve bites down a smile. “Eddie, you came over here knowing this is what we’d be doing.”
Eddie whines again, rolling off the couch and landing so roughly on the carpet the beer bottles on the coffee table rattle. “Yeah but it sounded so much more entertaining in my head.”
Eddie inches forward and spins so his head rests on the top of Steve’s socked feet. Steve looks down and feigns ease. “Watching me watch basketball sounded entertaining to you?”
Eddie whines again, wiggling his shoulders so his curls brush against Steve’s ankles. “It took me three tries to graduate. Please never question my thought processes.”
Steve turns his eyes back to the television, mainly so he doesn’t have to see how good Eddie looks, down at his feet. “We’re in the fourth quarter.” He manages.
At Eddie’s silence, Steve translates, “that means it’s almost over.”
“Thank god, ” Eddie sighs, not moving from his position. “We’re getting high after this, Stevie. As payment for forcing me into the vicinity of sports.”
“Again, you came over here. ”
“Semantics, big boy.”
True to his word, Eddie lights up a joint for each of them when the game ‘finally’ ends.
“I can’t believe I watched sports for you,” Eddie sighs through an exhale, his face illuminated by Steve’s weak porch light. “I don’t even do that for Wayne.”
Steve had forgotten what it was like, for a while, to have a crush. To have every little thing they say or do light up your insides. It hits him like a truck, even after all these weeks, how just a couple of words can make his whole chest sing and his stomach dissolve.
“You could’ve left.” Steve mumbles, and hits his joint. He hopes his blush is invisible in the yellow light.
Eddie’s tsks . “Yeah, but even doing boring shit with you is like, way more fun than anything else I’d be doing.”
Steve can’t help the smile that probably pulls too hard at his cheeks. His high is already blurring the world around him, the edges of body feeling at one with the air hugging close to his skin. He turns to face Eddie, who’s already looking at him. Eddie, with his fluffy hair and painted nails, who feels impossibly close and hopelessly far away.
“ Don’t tell Dustin I said that, though. I need him to keep thinking I’m cool,” Eddie adds, and his smile is light, the corner of his mouth quirked and an eyebrow raised. His cheeks and nose are flushed with the cool October air and Steve can see an eyelash stuck to his cheek.
“He’s really got us under his thumb, huh?” Steve grins, voice barely above a whisper, and Eddie’s smile grows.
“It’s totally the hair, man.” Eddie sighs, and his gaze pulls away from Steve’s. “All those curls. Makes it feel like he’s my little brother or something.”
Eddie takes another hit, and Steve’s thoughts feel sluggish as his eyes track the way Eddie’s mouth moves around the paper. He exhales, and Steve’s a little mesmerized by the way his lips part.
“Lots of little brother energy in that one.” Steve says stupidly, and he grimaces before Eddie barks out a laugh.
“We should be giving him more shit, as the elder brothers.” Eddie quips, and Steve smiles, limbs warm and weighted.
“Might be awkward, if we were all brothers.”
It’s out of his mouth before his brain has time to catch up. Eddie’s eyebrows knit together, and his mouth twists into a confused little smile. “Awkward?” He parrots, “don’t tell me you’re still hung up on our little rivalry, sweetheart.”
Sweetheart sweetheart sweetheart-
“No, that’s not-“ his mouth feels like it’s full of cotton. He shakes his head, willing the action to jumble some of his thoughts loose. Get something fucking moving so he can talk his way out of this. “That’s not what I meant.” Steve says, far too belatedly, and Eddie’s eyebrows rise.
“What did you mean then?” Eddie’s grinning toothily at him, entertained by Steve’s floundering.
His tongue feels heavy, and Eddie’s eyes are still on him, gaze still curious, and Steve can’t help but glance down at his lips, shining, in the dim light.
There’s a beat of silence. “Stevie,” Eddie mumbles, and that name looks so good on those lips.
He’s never had this problem before. This heart pounding all encompassing terror that what he feels won’t be reciprocated. He’d always been so sure of himself, so sure that any girl would want a piece of him that rejection was never on his table.
But it sits on the table, now, staring at him. The terrifying what ifs making his stomach lurch. Because if he lays it all out, tells Eddie everything , and Eddie doesn’t feel the same- would it be worth it? Worth the heartbreaking denial of one of the only people that sees him?
“Steve.”
Yes, he thinks, desperately, Eddie’s eyes huge in the night, lips pink and face flushed, yes, he is worth everything .
“It would be awkward because I want to kiss you,” Steve begins, softly, and Eddie’s mouth drops open, just enough for Steve to see the edges of his teeth. Steve edges forward until their shoes brush. “Can I kiss you?”
There’s one, heart stopping moment that Eddie doesn’t reply. He stands, frozen, joint burning away between his first and second fingers, staring at Steve. It feels like eons. It feels like stars burned and died and mountains grew and fell in the time between Steve’s question and Eddie mumbling a quiet, awed, “ yes.”
Steve leans in before he can overthink it any further. Eddie lets out a little gasp right before their lips meet, eyes still wide and staring even as Steve closes his.
Eddie’s mouth is warm. His lips are chapped and a little rough but his mouth opens the moment Steve runs his tongue along his bottom lip. Steve drops his joint in favor of curling his hands into Eddie’s hair and he hopes it’s able to burn out on its own, not caring, for now, if it doesn’t. Because Eddie is kissing him back. His mouth is open and his fingers are clinging to the front of Steve’s shirt like he’s afraid he’ll disappear.
Steve pulls Eddie into him, presses them close so Eddie’s hands are pinned between their chests. He drops one hand low, down to the ass he’s been ogling for weeks and squeezes, eliciting a delicious groan from deep within Eddie’s chest. Steve vaguely registers they need to breathe, but for now, he ignores it, using the hand not on Eddie’s ass to curl around the back of his head.
Only when his lungs begin to burn, does Steve lean back. “Holy shit,” Eddie whispers. He pulls his arms out from where they were pinned between them to cup Steve’s face. Eddie’s cheeks are still rosy, his lips swollen and slick, and his pupils are blown wide as he stares. He looks, despite seeing all of him. Eddie knows all of Steve and looks anyway, wants to kiss him, anyway. It’s overwhelming, and Steve’s giddy with it, feels that smile that pulls his cheeks and crinkles his eyes narrow his vision.
Eddie's expression shifts from flushed to delighted, a breathless “ Stevie, ” escaping his lips again as he drops his head to rest against Steve’s.
He exhales, and Steve feels his warm breath on his cheeks. Eddie runs his fingers across Steve’s jaw, slowly, like he’s mapping the structure of his bones.
“This okay?” Steve asks, because he has to be sure-
“Are you kidding me?” Eddie whispers, and he leans in again, kisses him warmly, chastely, “I’ve been wanting that to happen for weeks,” he laughs, a little breathlessly, then adds, “maybe months, at this point.”
“Oh,” Steve exhales, and he lets Eddie’s words wash over him, the admission of wanting so easily breached from his lips. “Me too.” Steve adds, hesitantly, quietly, and Eddie smiles.
They kiss, and kiss again, until the warmth of the house and the promise of Steve’s bed beckons them inside.
After, Eddie pulls him into chest, trails his long fingers over the give of his lower belly, and presses a kiss to the top of his shoulder. It’s so soft, and they’ve already done the fun part, and Eddie’s here, pulling them together and kissing him, knowing it won’t get him anywhere else, only because he wants.
“Sorry, ‘m a cuddler,” Eddie whispers.
Steve turns, presses his face into Eddie’s chest, and tangles their legs together. “Me too.”