✧ cw: period-typical homophobia mentioned, somewhat dubious consent bc they’re both high.
✧ steddie (steve harrington/eddie munson)
“this is nice.” steve murmurs, smile on his face as he leans back into the couch with his eyes closed.
eddie watches him interest, there’s something about the way steve relaxes after having a joint that keeps pulling eddie in.
maybe it’s the fact that the frown leaves his face, that the wrinkles around his forehead from stress seem to smooth out, that it seems to be one of the only times eddie gets to witness him actually smile, carefree and happy.
“yeah,” eddie hums, finishing the last of the joint before putting it out on the ashtray, the trailer is warm and comfortable, afternoon sun cascading through the windows.
steve is basked in golden rays that makes him look even more ethereal than he normally would.
“put something on.” steve murmurs, eyes heavy as he turns to look at eddie. eddie looks at the tv and then back at steve, “what do you wanna watch?” he asks, moving to get up and rifle through the VCR’s he has.
steve frowns, shaking his head before looking at eddie, “no, one of your records, the nice ones” he says, somewhat slurring his words and eddie finds it wholly adorable.
eddie turns to his record collection lining the wall, mostly metal but some pop shit that he bought especially for when steve comes over.
nevermind the fact that steve only comes over maybe once every two weeks, eddie just likes knowing that there’s something here that belongs to steve.
“the cure?” eddie asks, shuffling through the small collection he’s built, pausing to look up at steve with a raised brow.
steve scoffs and shakes his head, “not the pop ones, one of yours” he emphasizes, as if eddie should have known ‘king’ steve wanted to listen to metallica.
eddie shakes his head with a short laugh, “whatever you say harrington.” before putting on his metallica record, he walks back to the couch before dropping down next to steve, enough place between them so that he doesn’t overthink.
steve makes a sound of protest, limbs turning lazily to scowl, or rather, pout, at eddie. “don’t call me that.” he grumbles.
eddie’s confusion must show on his face as steve looks at him again with a frown, “harrington.” he states and eddie hums in acknowledgment.
“isn’t that what i’ve always called you?” eddie questions, oddly intrigued about where steve is going with this.
steve shakes his head vehemently before lifting a hand to point at eddie in between his eyes, “nope.” he says, popping the p.
“you called me stevie the last time we smoked,” he murmurs and eddie blushes at the confession, painfully unaware he’d embarrassed himself that badly.
eddie laughs nervously, pulling steve’s hand away, before he can let go though, steve intertwines their hands and eddie freezes in shock.
“like when you call me stevie, makes me all floaty” steve mumbles, index finger still jammed into eddie’s forehead.
“been trying to get you to notice me,” steve starts to talk again and eddie wants to ask if he’s dreaming or if this is actually happening.
“just want you to know i want you, but robin says i’m not being obvious enough” he confesses and eddie wants to laugh hysterically.
there’s no way he has steve harrington in his trailer, confessing he likes him, a boy, when eddie’s harbored what he thought was an unrequited crush for the better half of a decade.
“oh.” eddie whispers dumbly and steve looks into his eyes, “yeah.” he whispers back.
and before they know it, they’re kissing, they both smell and taste like weed, metallica fading into the background as the sun warms their skin.
and when they resurface later, high dissipated and brains coming back to them, they’ll talk and confess again and complain about how the other was so oblivious to their feelings.
