Archive of Our Own

Eddie was two seconds away from having a panic attack. He could feel it building in his fingers and tightening his lungs. He was about to freak the fuck out and it was all because of one boy.

One boy and one fucking monumentally stupid decision.

It had been a bad idea from the start; he’d known it at the time, known it and done it anyway—but even he hadn’t anticipated this.

Because last night, he’d hung out with Steve and Robin. The former-jock had invited them both over for a movie night, and he’d accepted immediately, always excited to spend time with anyone in the Upside Down crew, but especially Steve.

Because in the wake of Vecna and that horror induced nightmare, he’d found it was just nice to be around him. It was nice to not be judged for weird flinches, a smile that was whisper thin and scars that still fucking ached. Gareth and the others were great, always rallied around him even when he couldn’t explain why he just couldn’t play guitar right now—but this was just… it was different.

Steve, Dustin and the others… they were true take-on-the-world-for-you friends. They’d fight assholes or monsters for him, swing by even when it wasn’t required or convenient—they’d even stay on the phone until the sun rose, helping him feel a little more tethered to reality.

And while it was still sometimes a little trippy that one of those people was ‘The King’ himself—that he was welcomed and wanted in Harrington’s home as if everything in High School had just been a strange dream—Steve never shied from that aspect of their past.

In fact, Steve had purposefully caught him after his hospital release. He’d quietly pulled him to the side away from all the others. Eddie hadn’t known what to expect, but the former-jock had apologised for the jerk he’d been, his gaze on his shoes. He’d then said that Eddie could punch him if he wanted—that he would totally get it, absolutely deserve it, and that he wouldn’t even try to fight back.

In response, Eddie had laughed in the guy’s face.

He’d then wrapped an arm around Steve’s shoulders and said, “Water under the fucking bridge, man. You think we’ll survive hell together and I’ll blame you for what you did pre-redemption arc? Fuck no. You’re a good guy, Harrington. So, like, just buy me a soda sometime and we’ll call it even, yeah?”

Steve’s confusion had turned to a beaming smile. He’d looked so delighted and pretty that Eddie’s heart had done a little trip in his chest. He’d had to make a stupid joke to break the moment, making Steve laugh—which hadn’t exactly been an improvement. So, he’d hurried them back over to the group before he could do anything potentially damning.

Thankfully, Steve hadn’t noticed his little heart hiccup—then, or the dozens of other times that had followed. And really, why would he? Because Steve was straight and into girls. Steve might have bought him the soda and started showing up routinely at the trailer with beers and snacks and movies—but he also sometimes had Robin Buckley in tow.

Eddie didn’t mind, exactly. He liked her, she was funny and weird and had decent taste in music—but she was a girl, she was Steve’s girl. Because he might have been wrong about Nancy Wheeler in the Upside Down, but it didn’t mean he was wrong about Robin Buckley in the real world.

Steve had a ‘will-they, won’t-they’ going on with her and Eddie was just waiting for the moment when they succumbed to the inevitable. And that was… well, it wasn’t fine, but it was expected. He was queer, he was into Steve, he had no chance in hell, and so the story went.

The difference, he had to admit, was being so… friendly with a guy he liked. Normally, he’d watch from afar, maybe try and get a glimmer of their attention—now, he routinely had Steve’s focus, along with his laughter and smiles and an arm slung over his shoulder.

But he had to share that, and it meant he had to swallow down the tide of jealousy whenever it rose during any hangouts that included Robin Buckley.

And it had risen hard last night.

Because when their movie had ended, he’d been complaining about the conclusion—another forced totally unnecessary heterosexual coupling—Robin had rolled her eyes and gone to stand when Steve had touched her arm, and said a soft, pointed ‘hey.’

It had kept her from climbing off the couch and had made him stop talking. They’d both focused on Steve and, staring at his hands, Steve had quietly admitted that he’d been having a rough week with nightmares, that he didn’t want to be alone.

Eddie’s heart had immediately ached. He’d wanted to bundle the other boy into his arms, protect him from the world—he’d also felt touched to be told, to be seeing that kind of vulnerability from the Party’s anchor. Eddie had been all set to declare it a movie marathon night, that they’d need more snacks, maybe even pizza—but Robin had beaten him, not to declare a longer hangout, but instead, she’d sighed loudly and declared, ‘you better not hog the bedding again then, dingus’.

Steve’s smile had been small, yet so open and relieved. He’d looked at her so gratefully and Eddie’s heart had wanted to shrivel up.

God, he’d wanted so badly to be her in that moment.

Because of course Steve hadn’t been asking a general question for his two friends to hang out. He’d been subtly asking for his not-yet-girl to stay the night.  Because of course Steve wanted his girl in his bed, curled against his side—fuck, it was what Eddie would have asked for every night if he’d had the balls to say it to the boy beside him.

And he'd known he'd have to come up with a subtle, non-bitter way to leave the two alone, that it was what a good friend did—but before he could think something suitable up, Steve had swung around to look at him and asked, “What about you, Eds? Bed’s big enough for three.”

And for a moment, Eddie had been left with absolutely no words, just white fucking noise at being invited into Steve Harrington’s bed, but they’d both stared at him expectantly and he’d managed to stutter out, “You’re, uh—you’re sure?”

Steve had nodded even as Robin had scoffed and said, “Just as long as you don’t kick me out of the bed in the middle of the night.”

“Oh my God,” Steve had groaned, looking back at Robin. “That was one time and I said I was sorry!”

They’d continued to bicker and Eddie had been left with no suitable time to understand what had just happened—or back the fuck out of his assumed agreement. Frankly, he’d been a little unsure if he even wanted to, because it was a once off opportunity and he knew it. Steve would never invite a guy into his bed, that was pure fact—but a friend? When there was already a girl between them? That would be okay. That wouldn’t be gay.

And he wasn’t stupid, it would probably mean waking up to something he didn’t want to see—where he’d have to roll his eyes and light-heartedly complain about seeing them making out or cuddled up together. It would hurt, but maybe, while it lasted, it would just be… nice? To be close. To be near even if it wasn’t the way he’d truly like it to be.

So, Eddie had kept his mouth shut and followed the two friends up to Steve’s room. He’d tried not to make a fucking deal when Steve had offered spare clothes—trying to take them the same way Robin had without even a blink. (Because, it was familiar to her, because she was practically the fucking girlfriend. And he was the friend. The totally straight friend who wasn’t living out some fucking guilty fantasy type shit.)

And, so, yeah, Eddie had changed in the bathroom—had maybe shoved his face into the clothes and breathed deeply like the Freak he fucking was—only to come back out and nearly have a coronary at the fact Steve was in the middle instead of Robin.

But, neither of them had made any comment, so Eddie had slid into place, trying to joke along with them and not act out of his fucking mind with nerves. He’d nodded along and agreed to the plan of going to the diner tomorrow for lunch, and the suggestion of visiting the next town over on the weekend for a movie at the drive in—doing his best to act like he wasn’t some third wheel being pulled into places where he didn’t belong.

And when the lights had finally gone out, it had taken him a while to relax. Staring up at the ceiling and trying not to hyper-fixate about how Steve was right there; warm and solid and half pressed against his leg and side.

Eddie couldn’t have said how long it had taken, but in the end, he’d managed it—actually fallen asleep without a light on, or after double and triple-checking shadows. And when he’d woken up, it had been morning—having slept through the night for fucking once—he’d come to breathing in the familiar, intoxicating scent of Steve and being certain he was dreaming; that it was the good kind. The one where Steve wanted him back and chose a metalhead boy over Robin Buckley.

He'd tightened his hold, wanting to snuggle even closer—slip back into the comfort and fantasy of dreamland—but, reality had knocked insistently at the back of his skull, had pointed out dreams didn’t feel so real. And that had found him opening his eyes. That had found him in his current panic inducing situation.

Because Steve was in fact actually there. He was wrapped around him like a fucking teddy-bear and Eddie’s half-hard dick was against his very pretty, very straight male friend. Then, to make his terror ten fucking times worse, the bed had shifted and Robin had stuck her head over Steve’s shoulder to look at them.

Her hair was a mess, Steve’s shirt half falling off her shoulder and she blinked. She looked ready to laugh—waking Steve and bringing reality crashing down around him—but then she’d caught his gaze.

She’d caught his gaze and something had stolen the laughter off her face. She looked down at Steve, then over him, where their bodies were pressed damningly together. Eddie’s stomach dropped for a whole new reason, a whole new fear because what if she knew? If she had a woman’s intuition and could see infatuation, desire and crush reflected in his face the same way she was used to seeing it in girls?

When Steve shifted, Eddie shut his eyes, realising the other boy was waking up—realising he was fucked.

And then, against all fucking odds, he felt the bedding shift and opened his eyes on instinct—was Robin about to shout, to call fag until he had no choice but to run?

But then, in a series of events (and he wasn’t quite sure how they happened) Robin stuck her hands under Steve’s shirt. The former-jock shrieked, half-asleep but coming right awake as Robin tugged and abruptly, Steve was more on her than on him and Eddie was scrambling up into a position that hid exactly what their close contact had done.

Steve, completely unaware, was grousing, “Fucking hell, Robin! Your hands are freezing!”

“Then don’t steal the blankets!” Robin countered. “I have ice for hands, Steve. Ice!”

“You don’t see Eddie complaining do you!”

Steve half-started to turn toward him, but Robin grabbed his shirt and yanked, keeping all of Steve’s attention.

“I do see Eddie complaining, Steve! We were both frozen. Frozen! How can you expect people to share when you can’t even offer your poor friends’ blankets?”

“Oh my God, you’re so overdramatic.”

They continued to squabble like an old married couple, and Eddie sat there, heart still racing, erection thankfully abating as he tried to calm down from the near miss he’d narrowly avoided. All because of Robin.

Fuck, he owed her.

He didn’t know how he could possibly repay her—but he was clearly about to get his chance, because she demanded coffees in exchange for leaving them out in the cold. Steve was cussing under his breath but crawling out of bed and stumbling toward the door and out, heading downstairs to the kitchen.

It left him alone with Robin. The girl, the future girlfriend, who had just had a nice big look at one of his most carefully guarded secrets. But instead of scowling or looking at him with disgust, her voice was so, so gentle, “Eddie.”

He cringed, almost hating it more than a sneer. He shifted even further away from her. God, he wanted to grab his clothes, get changed and run. He wanted to bury his head in the sand and pretend none of this had happened—but he needed to see exactly how screwed he was.

“Sorry for stealing Harrington,” he said roughly, cleared his throat awkwardly. He knew the attempted tease had fallen flat. “Well, uh, you know.” He stared at his hands. “Not exactly stealing. Couldn’t ever steal your guy, really. But thanks, for, um, taking him back.”

“Eddie,” she said again, shifting a little closer.

And he couldn’t do this.

He leapt up and out of bed, almost tangling in the sheet and falling on his ass. He steadied a hand on the mattress, but that put him face to face with Robin when he looked up, and oh fuck, she looked shocked and knowing and he was dead.

“Please don’t tell.”

It escaped before he could bite it back—it also came out so small, so outright afraid and pleading. Because, she stood between him and the executioner’s axe. She had his fate with the Party—with Steve—in her hands and maybe he should have fucking lied even when it wouldn’t have done him any good.

But her expression crumpled with sympathy and she took his hand, holding it tightly in hers—and her palm was actually chilled because that hadn’t been a lie. She’d been left out in the cold while he had gained Steve, warm and curled against him.

“I won’t, Eddie. I—” and she stopped, bit her bottom lip and he braced for something—that Steve would never want him, that she would keep his secret but he better not get close to her guy ever again—but what he got was a blurted, whispered, “I like girls.”

For a moment, it didn’t compute, but the moment it did, his eyes widened and he gasped, “What?” And then. “Really?” She nodded and he leant forward, right into her space. “You’re a lesbian?”

She smiled hesitantly and nodded again, and abruptly Eddie laughed, the tight bands constricting his chest disappeared and he collapsed forward, his face half on her thigh, but Jesus. H. Christ he wasn’t fucked. He wasn’t outed. He’d been caught by another queer.

“Jesus. H. Christ,” he gasped. “Fuck, Buckley. I think I’m in love with you.”

Robin snorted, but he could feel the faint shivering going through her body. She squeezed his hand and he squeezed back, tilting his head to better look up at her and smile. Because, God, they were both queer. They’d both come out and they’d done it in Steve Harrington’s bedroom.

“God,” he whispered. “Hell of a time and a place to find another queer. Harrington’s bed. Guy would probably be heartbroken to hear it.”

But, in reply, Robin chewed her bottom lip again, looking a little shy but also fond the way she often got when she looked at her Platonic with a capital ‘P’ best friend.

“Not really,” she said. “He’d be happy I’ve found someone else who’s queer.”

Eddie’s eyes widened and he pushed up in bed, hissing, “He knows?”

And even though a part of him was outright refusing to accept it—another part was noticing a dozen different moments that made so much sense with that piece of information overlaid on top of it.

“Fuck,” Eddie said before she could answer. “He really does, doesn’t he?”

Robin nodded. “He was so good, Eddie. So supportive, he—”

Eddie was already shaking his head, seeing where this was going. “No way in hell.”

“But—”

“No.”

She hesitated noticeably, even lowering her voice further as she asked, “Is it because you like—”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he bit out, not ever wanting those words out in the open air.

He pulled his hand from hers, trying to put space between them—but she grabbed his forearm too quickly.

“I won’t tell him,” she assured quickly. “I promise, Eddie. But he wouldn’t mind. I know he wouldn’t.”

Eddie scoffed—because, what was she? Fucking naïve?

“You think so, Buckley?” Eddie asked sarcastically. “You think he’d be fine with a guy, with me—” he waved his hand to encompass himself, unable to say the actual words—plausible deniability and all that, “—and sharing his fucking bed?” He shook his head. “I only just got rid of the fucking man hunt after me, I don’t need another.”

“Eddie,” Robin said, looking hurt. “Steve wouldn’t—”

“I’m not taking that risk, okay?” he snapped, crossing his arms. “Fucking peachy that he said it was fine for you. Great, awesome. But I’d rather just pretend it doesn’t fucking exist.” He scrubbed a hand through his hair. “You have to get that, Robin? Don’t you?”

And despite the clear frustration on her face—the way she wanted to defend her best friend who had accepted her—he could see the bone-deep fear in her eyes. She did know how terrifying it was, and it was why, she nodded her head solemnly.

And thank God for that, because if anyone in this bastard town had to work out that he liked dick—liked Steve—at least it was a lesbian who knew how important it was to keep your mouth shut.

“I do, Eddie,” she said quietly, but she also wrung her hands. She glanced around before shifting closer, lowering her voice even more. “Can I talk to you about it?” Eddie must have made a face, because she hurriedly added, “Not… not now but later? Can we just… talk?”

She looked so hopeful, and despite Eddie’s lingering fear that Steve would appear at any moment and hear something they couldn’t hide—there was a deep yearning, a part of him that wanted so desperately to talk to someone like him.

So, he nodded.

“Yeah. Later. Like, call, and we can just… in my van, maybe?”

She nodded vigorously and he finally felt some of his tension ease. He smiled a little and she matched it, taking and squeezing his hand again—and he grasped her back, felt like he could, that this girl would never misinterpret the things he was doing and saying as being more.

And so, it made perfect fucking sense that Steve poked his head in at that moment saying, “Hey, Eddie how do you take—” he stopped, he blinked, getting a really odd look on his face. “Uh… what are you doing?”

“Proposing,” Eddie blurted, not really thinking—but well, he was good at making shit up. “Robin is now the new love of my life. You’re going to have to fight me for her, Harrington.”

Robin gave a sort of snorting laugh, while Steve’s expression turned deeply unimpressed.

“Uh huh,” he said. “When you’re done getting your ass dumped, you gonna tell me how you take your pancakes?”

Eddie let Robin go, standing immediately. “There are pancakes?”

“Well, yeah, I thought I’d make some—”

Eddie crossed the room, wrapping an arm around Steve’s shoulders. “New plan, sorry Buckley. Our love was short but sweet, but maple syrup is sweeter.”

Steve rolled his eyes, but a smile still pulled at his lips. “God, why do I even put up with this?”

“Because we’re the coolest people ever,” Robin chimed in, joining them. “Duh, Steve.”

Robin met Eddie’s gaze then and smiled, and Eddie curled his other arm around her shoulders, tugging her in—and he realised, for the first time, he truly, genuinely felt happy to be between the two of them.

He didn’t feel a rising tide of envy or the discomfort of being certain he was an unwanted third wheel. Steve might still be straight and still going to get a girl, but at least Eddie didn’t have to worry about it being this one.

Which meant, whenever they were together, he could enjoy it to the fullest—and maybe, like this morning, he’d even have an ally who could yank him back from the edge before he did something monumentally queer and stupid.

Steve wasn’t an idiot. He wasn’t the smartest guy around, sure, but he’d have to be a real moron to miss that things changed between Eddie and Robin the night that the three of them shared a bed.

At first, he’d been kind of grateful, he’d noticed that Eddie had never quite… clicked with her—as if there was some kind of wall that only ever showed up when the three of them hung out.

But, after that night, it was like they’d formed some close bond—some impossible to decipher friendship that a small part of Steve had been jealous of. He’d almost wanted to say something, maybe warn Eddie about getting a crush on her or something, but when he’d tried to bridge the subject with Robin, she’d rolled her eyes and said he didn’t have to worry.

He still had, of course—keeping more of an eye on them when they were together—but nothing had happened. For almost a fucking month, he’d watched and waited, expecting things to blow up at any minute.

Hell, even Dustin had started asking if Eddie was ‘stealing his girl’ because Max had seen them go off in his van together and what if they were making out? Steve had shot down the notion, but he’d still waited for the moment Robin awkwardly admitted Eddie had made a move—or maybe he'd find Eddie moping and bitter one day because Robin wasn’t going to ever like him back.

Steve had always trusted Eddie, but he’d never known if he’d take Robin being queer well. So, yeah, he’d worried, especially when their odd behaviour had suddenly gotten worse.

Eddie had grown scarce, avoiding hanging out and not answering calls at the trailer. Robin had been twitchier than usual too, disappearing after her shifts and lying badly when he’d asked what she was up to. He’d been about ready to follow and confront them when he’d finally had it explained.

That answer, when it came, had all come down to two simple words—something that had not been simple in its build up.

Instead, Robin had made him drive her all the way to Skull Rock where Eddie had been waiting with his van and beers and enough nervous pacing that Steve had expected to be told Eddie was under murder charges again.

He’d been made to sit on the ground, a beer in his hands as Robin nervously stood to his left, wringing her hands.

“Okay,” Eddie had said, still pacing and taking a large sip from his beer. “Okay,” he’d repeated. “Right.”

He’d then sipped again, Steve watching his movements with mounting concern. Eddie, by comparison, hadn’t even glanced in his direction—like if he didn’t make eye-contact, Steve didn’t exist.

Steve had been running through every possibility from the Very Very Bad to the Not So Bad and circling back to just Bad when Eddie had tossed back the last of the beer like it was a shot only to shut his eyes and say, his voice so choked that Steve actually took a couple of seconds to translate and understand it.

“I’m gay.”

Confusion had come first, then relief it wasn’t something actually bad—and then, with all the smoothness of a rock, he’d said, “So, that’s why you and Robin have been going all Secret Whisper Club.”

“Secret Whisper Club?” Robin had gasped, her high-pitched voice betraying how nervous she'd also been. “What do you think we are, twelve?”

“What else was I meant to call it?” He’d complained. “I didn’t know what it was! I was starting to worry! Dustin even thought you were like dating, or whatever. You could have just said you were like, talking about crushes and stuff.”

He’d then scowled, a thought occurring as he’d looked at Eddie, standing in front of him, empty beer still loosely in hand and eyes wide.

“Also like, not cool, man. I was talking to you about chicks. You should have like, said something, I would have totally stopped doing that.”

In response, Eddie had just laughed, dropping into a crouch and sort of covering his face like he wanted to hyperventilate.

He’d exchanged a glance with Robin before pushing to his feet. They’d both run over to him and knelt, rubbing his back as Steve assured him it was totally, absolutely okay. Eddie had stolen his beer, drunk half of it, but smiled wobbly, his eyes a little wet.

They’d moved to Eddie’s van after that, all three of them sprawled together like they’d always been. Steve had made a conscious effort to lean up against Eddie like it hadn’t mattered—because it hadn’t. They’d had beers and argued about what movie they’d see at the drive in next, Eddie had batted his eyelashes to try and get his way and Steve had flipped him off, making the metalhead laugh.

Things had gone back to normal.

In fact, it had become a better normal.

Eddie and Robin still huddled together and sometimes went off alone to talk about queer topics, but Steve was now allowed into their little circle. He didn’t always get it, but he at least no longer got uncomfortable looks from Eddie any time he caught the tail end of something that was clearly about boys.

And tonight, he wasn’t sure if it was an accident, or just Eddie becoming more comfortable around him, but as he was finishing the final clean up at Family Video—doors locked and no one in the store but the three of them. He’d come around a corner, planning to bitch about some gum that kids had stuck on one of the new releases, when he’d heard Eddie mumble, “He’s just too fucking pretty, Robin.”

Steve’s eyes had widened and he’d stopped, mouth dropping open because, “Dude!”

Eddie had jumped, spinning around with wide eyes. Robin looked equally startled, but he just pointed at the metalhead. “You like someone!”

Steve didn’t think he’d ever seen Eddie flush so pink. Steve grinned. It was all the confirmation he needed. He quickly closed the distance, gum forgotten, as he leant his hip against the counter just down from the other boy.

“Come on, man! You’ve been holding out on me. Who’s the guy?”

Eddie and Robin exchanged a glance—doing a damn good job of the same silent communication that Steve had thought only he and Robin could achieve. He could almost be jealous, but mostly he was too curious.

In the end, his patience paid off. Eddie grabbed some of his hair, tugging and tangling his fingers around it. He wouldn’t look at him.

“Just some metal guy I know,” he mumbled.

Steve wracked his brain for any other metalheads in town. One of his band, maybe? Or hell, it could be someone from out of town. Steve knew he and Eddie hadn’t run in the same circles pre-Upside Down. Maybe it was some guy he knew from before Vecna?

“Yeah? You going to ask him out.”

Eddie shook his head violently. Steve was a little worried he might hurt himself. “No way.”

Steve frowned. “What? Why not?”

“Jesus, dingus,” Robin said, looking and sounding appalled.

“What?” Steve demanded, looking between his two friends. “What I say?”

“Fuck, I can’t do that, man,” Eddie said, grimacing.

“Why—?”

“The dude’s straight as hell,” Eddie interrupted his tone completely flat.

Steve’s face fell. It wasn’t that he forgot people were straight, that homophobia was alive and fucking kicking in Hawkins but…it just…it wasn’t fair that Eddie couldn’t make a pass at whatever cute guy had caught his eye. Eddie was a great guy, he should be able to score a nice dude, rather than look terrified at the mere idea of flirting with someone.

“Really man?” Steve said. “Fuck, I’m sorry. That sucks.”

Steve stepped forward. He wrapped an arm around Eddie’s shoulders, squeezing in what he hoped was comfort. Eddie leant into him, so he assumed he was having some success. But, still, the thought wouldn't leave his mind. He had to ask, “You’re sure though? About the guy?”

“That he’s straight?”

“Yeah.”

“Yup,” Eddie muttered, popping the ‘p’. “Had girlfriends and everything.”

Steve frowned, because yeah, sure, that had merit and he couldn’t exactly pick a queer from a crowd but…

“Vicki had boyfriends and still liked Robin.”

It was one of the few good things that had happened post-Vecna. Robin had, at his urging, finally made a clumsy move on Vicki. So far, they’d only held hands and gone out on one date, but it was still a lot more progress than Robin had ever dared imagine.

Eddie, however, was back to shaking his head, long curls lightly brushing the side of Steve’s face.

“No,” he said, firm and unyielding. “That’s rare. It never works out that way.”

Steve scowled. “Hey, if it did work out for Robin, then you can’t say never. So, maybe it can happen with this guy.”

“It’s different with girls,” Eddie bit out, trying to shift away, but Steve wasn’t budging or loosening his hold.

“Girls aren’t that different to guys,” he insisted.

“Jesus, Steve. Girls are a hell of a lot more accepting most of the time.”

“Nu uh,” Steve countered. “Carol would have been a total bitch. And I’m a guy! I was accepting!”

Eddie screwed up his face, looking like he’d sucked a lemon, but it was Robin who spoke next, “Well what if it was you, Steve.”

Eddie stiffened, but Steve was already turning to Robin, confused. “Huh?”

She was watching him closely, her gaze serious in a way that made him know this was Important with a capital I.

“Like what if a guy liked you?” She pressed. “What would you do?”

Steve blinked, startled by the concept, because he’d never really thought of that. He was so busy pushing Robin towards girls and looking for hints they’d like her back, he’d never really asked the opposite question.

He’d never had to, really, Eddie was the first gay guy he’d ever known—and like, if there were others in Hawkins, they’d never asked him out or made a pass. But, well… he might not have been thinking about it personally but...

“I don’t know,” he said thoughtfully. “A guy’s never asked me out, but, I guess, if I already liked them and stuff, I’d try it.”

Robin’s eyes widened, but Eddie physically jolted. He glanced over at the other boy, finding him staring with an intensity Steve rarely saw outside of D&D or guitar.

“Uh,” Steve murmured, worried he’d made another stupid comment they were going to yell at him for.

“If you knew the guy," Eddie said, tone as equally serious as his gaze, "you’d say yes?”

Steve blinked again, but he gave the question another few seconds of thought before nodding, firmly and decisively. “Yeah. Sure. Why not?”

Eddie didn’t react, at least not verbally, but he continued to stare at him. The intensity was still there, but so was something else—something nervous? It was an odd look, something he’d rarely seen on Eddie’s face, but he’d seen it on…

Oh.

Girls.

He’d seen it on girls.

And shit, Eddie had called his actions in the Upside Down metal, hadn’t he? Like, maybe a guy could be metal, could be a badass without being a metalhead. Like maybe, the ‘too pretty straight guy’ could be…him?

Steve glanced at Robin, seeking some kind of help, maybe even confirmation. A single glance at a nervously bitten lip and worried expression and Steve knew.

Huh.

He suddenly felt very aware of his arm around Eddie’s shoulders, of the other boy’s cologne and the way Eddie had never quite relaxed since the moment he stepped close. The way cologne was something Eddie wore even if it was just the two of them hanging out—how he always jumped to show off his guitar, even when Steve knew it was hard for him to play sometimes.

How all Eddie wanted was a soda to rewrite their whole history—just wanted to hang out and have burgers and just… be together. Like maybe, a gay guy really had been flirting with him rather than teasing when he said ‘big boy’ and ‘sweetheart’. How he really had looked horribly nervous to climb into his bed the one time they'd all shared it.

So yeah, it was a surprise, he couldn’t deny that, but he’d said what he’d said and he still meant it.

Steve looked back at Eddie, seeing pink cheeks, a dropped gaze and thinking: ‘Eddie’s kind of pretty, and we already get along great.’

And really, what more did he need?

“I’d say yes.”

Eddie jerked to look up at him, eyes so wide and cheeks so cutely pink. Steve grinned but one glance at his smile and the metalhead looked away, cheeks even redder. The fingers of one hand started fiddling with the edge of his jacket. He’d never seen Eddie look so shy and nervous. It was kinda… cute.

“Uh, um,” Eddie stuttered. “Do you, uh, wanna go out sometime?” He swallowed. “With, uh, me?”

He didn’t have to think anymore. Steve smiled. “Yeah.”

Eddie stilled, completely unmoving before he laughed—the sound small and a little incredulous. He also ducked his head, slumped a little more into him and Steve repositioned to better hold the other boy, this time around the waist.

Eddie’s head ended up on his shoulder and Steve kind of liked the way he felt warm and solid against him—not delicate like a girl, but kind of… nice in a different way.

A little tiny squealing noise made him glance up at Robin. She had her hands over her face like she was trying to contain the sound but failing—her happiness was bright and unmistakable. Eddie’s was softer and quieter, the kind he wouldn’t expect from the usually loud and boisterous boy… but it kind of made it all the more special.

Because this date mattered to Eddie and Steve was thinking it would quickly start to matter to him too. Like maybe, this would finally be the one that would break his shitty slump and give him something worthwhile.

So, he quirked a smile and couldn’t help teasing, “I told you that asking out your crush was a good idea.”

Eddie immediately turned cherry red, burying his face in Steve’s shoulder and grumbling, “Fucking hell, Steve. Shut up.”

Steve just laughed. Because, whatever, right? He already had all the proof he needed that he was right—and now, his two best friends had dates on the horizon with their crushes.

And him?

He'd scored a date with a pretty, talented, funny guy. If that made him queer? Well, two of the coolest people he knew were already, being even more like them only sounded good to him.