Chapter Text
“You sure you don’t want me to make you anything?”
“No, it’s okay. I like cooking.”
Eddie sits at the island in the kitchen, watching Steve reach into the fridge and pull out several things, vegetables and cream and two cans of beer. He sets one in front of Eddie, who smiles at him fondly.
Steve is calmer than he was earlier. Lighter. Looser. Eddie watches him chop vegetables and check the stove, swaying on his feet like he’s about to fall into a dance, his hair loose and falling in his face carelessly.
Eddie wants to kiss him again.
“I’ll be right back,” he says, and Steve glances over his shoulder, pausing as he cuts up some broccoli.
“Okay.”
When Eddie gets back, pen and notebook in hand, the kitchen is filled with the sound of frying food. Steve is mixing the pan with a spatula, his expression relaxed and soft, and Eddie tosses the notebook onto the island before stepping up behind him and wrapping his arms around Steve’s middle.
Steve laughs lightly, setting his hand on Eddie’s hand, tilting his head as Eddie kisses the side of his neck.
“Smells good,” he mumbles.
“Thank you,” Steve says softly.
Eddie stays for a moment, kissing his neck again. He knows that Steve likes cooking. And baking. He’s good at it too, making up recipes with whatever happens to be in the cupboards and fridge. There are cookbooks all over the place, stacked in the kitchen and office and library, and every once in a while Steve will flip through them, scribbling notes and writing down recipes to try. It makes Eddie think of the way he writes in his own books and the books in the library.
“What are you doing?” Steve asks when Eddie sits back at the island, picking up the pen and flipping open the notebook.
“Rules.”
Steve smiles at him.
He cooks while Eddie writes and thinks and gazes at him, his handwriting messy, partially because that’s just how he writes, and partially because he keeps writing as he stares up at Steve.
steve’s rules ♡
use your words/verbal responses
two meals a day + snacks when hungry
wear what eddie picks out
tell eddie where you’re going + call if plans change
take breaks/rest when eddie tells you to
accept compliments
no negative self-talk
tell eddie if you’re uncomfortable or anxious
Steve sets a plate down in front of him as he’s sipping his beer, and Eddie turns to face him as he sits. Steve skims the rules as they eat in silence, smiling softly and pressing his leg up against Eddie’s under the table.
“What do you think?” Eddie asks when Steve looks up at him. Steve smiles again, looking at the paper and nodding.
“What happens if I break a rule?” he asks, and Eddie blinks, blanking.
“Uhm.” He thinks for a moment, eating. “Guess you could go to bed early. Write lines. Could make you kneel on the floor or something. Something uncomfortable.” Steve blinks at him. “Nothing out of bounds,” Eddie adds. “I’m in charge, but you’re in control. If anything’s too much, you tell me, okay?”
“Yes, sir,” Steve says softly, his cheeks flushing pink. “Thank you, Eddie.”
“C’mere.” He touches Steve’s cheek and leans in, kissing his smiling lips chastely.
Steve stares at him, his eyes shining, smiling in a way that Eddie’s never seen before. He looks so little, one of his hands tucked under his thigh, his hair falling in his face.
“What?” Eddie asks, pushing his hair back. Steve shrugs.
“I really like you.”
Eddie almost squeals, grinning and kissing him again.
“I really like you too.” Steve’s face lights up, and he’s smiling so happily his eyes squeeze shut. “I…”
“What?” Steve prompts, taking another bite of his lunch. Eddie shrugs halfheartedly.
“I just… Jesus, I really, really like you.”
Steve smiles, chewing, gazing at him.
“I’ve liked you since— since high school,” Eddie finishes, his cheeks flushing with heat, and Steve blinks at him, his smile faltering. “I always thought you were—” Eddie cuts off to clear his throat, dropping his fork. “I always thought you were beautiful, even if you were a douche, but then I met the kids, and the way they…” He pauses, taking a breath. Steve is staring at him. “The way they talked about you, Stevie, I just… I started falling for you before I even saw you again, and then— And then I did see you again, I just fell fucking hard—”
Steve interrupts, reaching out and grabbing Eddie’s shirt before sitting up and pulling him in and pressing a lingering kiss to his lips. When he pulls away, he stays close, both of their eyes closed, their noses brushing.
“I always thought you were beautiful, too,” Steve murmurs. Eddie smiles, reaching up without opening his eyes so he can pull Steve in again, kissing him slower, deeper, and possibly in a way that he shouldn’t while they’re eating lunch.
“What do you wanna do today?” he asks when they part, taking another bite in spite of his breathlessness, and Steve sits back in his seat, smiling like he knows exactly what he does to Eddie.
“I don't know,” Steve says softly, gazing at the rules again, shrugging. “Kinda wanna just… hang out.”
“Wanna watch a movie?”
“Yeah,” Steve says softly. “Sure.”
Eddie insists on cleaning up after they finish eating, and Steve insists on helping him. It goes smoothly, like it always does, both of them working in perfect, silent unison as Eddie cleans up the counter and Steve puts the leftovers away, as Eddie washes the dishes and Steve puts them away.
“Go pick a movie, baby,” Eddie tells him when they finish, as he’s drying his hands with the towel Steve handed him. He presses a kiss to Steve’s cheek, watching him smile. “I’ll be there in a second.” He gently pushes Steve toward the door, smacking his ass and grinning when Steve giggles.
When Steve is gone, Eddie finds the ice cream that’s tucked in the freezer with the trays of ice and frozen chicken and pizza, serving it in Steve’s favourite bowl. (The blue one he always uses for his cereal or soup.) He grabs two spoons before he puts the ice cream back in the freezer and goes to join Steve in the living room.
Steve has the blanket back around his shoulders, and the beginning of the movie he picked is playing on the television as Eddie joins him on the sofa, setting the bowl in Steve’s lap as he settles, crossing his legs and moving to lean against the armrest. Steve kisses his cheek as he’s fixing his shirt, which folded as he leaned back, and Eddie beams at him.
Neither of them say anything.
Neither of them have to.
Steve lays against him while they watch the movie and eat the ice cream, his head resting on Eddie’s chest, and Eddie runs his hands through his hair, gently playing with it. Eddie sets the empty bowl on the ground when they’re done, and Steve wraps his arm around his waist tightly, nuzzling his face into his chest. Eddie smiles at him even though he isn’t looking.
Steve stays there for a good while, relaxed and quiet, holding onto Eddie for so long that Eddie thinks he’s asleep until Steve says his name with a soft voice.
“Yeah?”
“Are you… particularly invested in this movie?”
“Uh. I guess not, no. Why, do you—”
He can’t get the rest of his question out because Steve is sitting up abruptly and leaning in to kiss him. Eddie’s eyes widen before he squeezes them shut and touches his face, holding him close as Steve sighs.
They’re both breathless when they part, and the movie blurs into white noise as Eddie looks into Steve’s eyes. His pupils are blown, his eyes dark and shining, and it makes Eddie want to cry, to kiss him again, to rip his shirt off, to drag him upstairs to his bed.
“Wanted to kiss you,” Steve breathes.
“You can always kiss me, Stevie,” Eddie says, just as softly, and Steve smiles at him, his eyes flicking down to Eddie’s lips, and Eddie’s stomach flutters. “Come here.”
Steve grins and leans in again, pushing his hands into Eddie’s hair as their lips meet again, tugging gently when Eddie parts his lips and swipes his tongue over Steve’s bottom lip. He reaches out and pulls at Steve’s waist, then his hips, then his thighs, and Steve shifts without pulling his mouth away, sitting like he did earlier, straddling Eddie’s lap.
Steve exhales sharply, pulling away and tilting his head before kissing him again, harder, wrapping his arms around Eddie’s neck tightly. Eddie reaches around him, blindly searching for the remote, because Steve is letting out tiny soft noises that he wants to hear. When he finds it, he pulls his lips away to look at it, and Steve’s lips slide down to his jaw, kissing and nipping and sucking, and Eddie has to force his eyes open to flip over the remote and shut off the television.
“Stevie,” he breathes when Steve slides his tongue across his skin. He drops the remote on the sofa beside them, but it hits the corner of the cushion and falls to the ground. He doesn’t care. Steve is sucking on the side of his neck, and Eddie’s eyes flutter shut again as he listens to it.
He slides his hands over Steve’s back, over the wrinkles of his shirt, until he reaches his ass, and he squeezes gently. Steve’s breath hitches, and he gasps against Eddie’s neck.
“Is that okay?”
“Shit,” Steve breathes. His breath is right over the spot of Eddie’s neck that’s wet with his spit, and Eddie shivers. “Yes, sir.”
Eddie grins, turning his face to catch Steve’s lips again, biting his lip and sighing, his hands tightening again, and Steve kisses him back in a way that Eddie can only think of as passionately, holding Eddie’s face between his hands and holding his mouth open for Eddie’s tongue.
Eddie loses track of time, every cell of his brain focussed on SteveSteveSteveSteveSteve. Steve is letting out little whimpers every time Eddie’s hands shift, and Eddie’s eyebrows are furrowed so hard and for so long that he might get a headache. (Worth it.) They kiss until the light of the living room dims because the world outside is still going by even if it doesn’t exist to them right now, until their lips and chins are slick with each other’s spit, until Eddie’s mouth is sore.
“Eddie,” Steve gasps, his fingers tightening in his hair. Eddie bites his lip, holding back a whimper or a moan, forcing his eyes open to look at him.
“You okay?”
“Yes, yes, I’m—” Steve is panting, dragging his fingers through Eddie’s hair, and Eddie grins at him, rubbing his ass and the small of his back. Steve’s head falls, his chest rising and falling with every breath, and Eddie gazes at him. “‘M hard.”
Oh.
Eddie’s grin widens, and he slides a hand around Steve’s hip, coming to a stop over his dick before he presses gently. Steve falls forward, groaning. Eddie laughs breathlessly.
“Lay down,” Eddie tells him, letting go and pushing his hips gently. Steve whines, burying his face in Eddie’s neck. “Steve, follow directions.”
“‘M sorry,” Steve breathes, shifting so Eddie can turn and push him to fall back into the sofa, and Eddie climbs over him, pressing kisses over his chest and neck.
“‘S okay, sweetheart,” Eddie whispers, kissing under his ear before he sucks his earlobe between his lips, and Steve’s fingers are tangling with his hair again. “I know.”
Pulling away, he looks down, moving so their legs are entwined, and then gazes at Steve again, moving to hold himself over him with his forearms framing Steve’s head. He stares, looking at Steve’s flushed cheeks and glistening lips, and then he carefully grinds his hips down against Steve’s. Steve’s eyes fly open and he gasps, pulling Eddie’s hair.
“Alright?” Eddie checks in, and Steve beams at him, pushing a hand between their bodies to press against the small of his back.
“Yes, Eddie, please.”
Eddie kisses him again, sucking on his lip as he grinds down again, listening to the moan that Steve chokes on. Steve’s hand slides between them again so he can wrap his arms around Eddie’s neck, and the next sound that escapes him is high-pitched, weak and thin in his throat, and Eddie thinks he might be ascending. He swallows the sound, licking into Steve’s mouth.
Steve hums, letting his mouth hang open for Eddie, burying his fingers in Eddie’s hair again, tugging every time Eddie pushes against him.
“Eddie,” he gasps, and Eddie pulls back, looking at him. He looks blissful, his head fallen back against the sofa, his eyes closed, cheeks flushed red. “Harder, baby, please.”
Eddie snaps his hips against Steve’s, smiling when Steve yelps, his hands pulling his hair sharply and making Eddie moan softly, his eyes closing.
“Fuck me,” Steve moans when Eddie does it again. Eddie laughs lightly, breathless, and he pulls back. Steve’s hands fall away, and he whimpers, opening his eyes as Eddie gets up, sitting back on his knees and moving Steve’s legs so they’re around Eddie’s hips.
“What are you doing?” Steve asks, watching, panting. Eddie grins up at him, patting Steve’s thighs so he tightens them around Eddie, and then he falls back over him, catching himself with a hand next to Steve’s head, sliding his other hand over his thigh and hip and waist before he presses it over Steve’s chest, pushing him into the sofa.
“Fucking you.”
Steve smiles and gasps when Eddie snaps his hips again. Eddie leans down again, pressing their mouths together as he moves, as Steve presses his hips up to meet his, but they’re barely even kissing, instead panting and licking and biting, and Eddie almost laughs out at the sudden realisation that he’s having sex with Steve Harrington.
He pulls away to look at him again, and Steve pulls his hand away from his head, but his fingers get snagged in a tangle, pulling his hair sharply and suddenly, and Eddie’s head jerks back with it with a sharp gasp.
“Fuck, sorry, baby,” Steve says, pressing his hand to Eddie’s head, but Eddie shakes his head, pressing against him again.
“Felt good,” he says shortly, moaning softly.
“Oh.”
Steve huffs out a laugh and tugs his hair again.
“Harder,” Eddie breathes, closing his eyes. Steve pulls again, yanking his hair so hard his head jerks back again, and a strangled moan escapes Eddie as Steve takes the opportunity to lift his own head and lick Eddie’s throat. “Fuck, yeah.”
Eddie leans down to kiss him again, licking across his lips before Steve opens his mouth, holding his tongue out so Eddie can suck on it.
When Eddie finally pulls away, Steve’s skin is shining with their spit, and Eddie grins.
“You’re so messy,” he says, as though he isn’t the one kissing him the way he is. Steve laughs again, grinning dopily up at him and moaning again as Eddie continues moving against him.
“Like it when you get me messy.”
“Yeah?”
He reaches to Steve’s face and rubs the spit across his cheek, watching Steve turn his head so he can, watching him bite his lip.
“My pretty boy,” Eddie murmurs, kissing him again and snapping his hips against Steve’s. Steve lets out a low groan that rumbles in his throat, and he tugs Eddie’s hair again. “Are you my pretty boy?”
“Yeah,” Steve whines, throwing his head back. Eddie leans down and bites his neck, sucking at his skin that’s salty with sweat. “Yeah, ‘m your pretty boy.”
Eddie smiles, moving his lips to under his jaw and sucking at his skin again.
“Eddie,” Steve chokes, breathing hard and fast. “Eddie, ‘m so close.”
“Don’t come,” Eddie says, lifting his head and smiling at him, even as he doesn’t slow down. “Not until I say.”
“Fuck,” Steve moans, squeezing his eyes shut. “Y— Yes, sir.”
“Good boy,” Eddie coos softly, kissing his jawline before he licks him.
“Eddie—”
“Yeah, baby.”
Steve moans instead of responding, yanking Eddie’s hair and pulling him in to kiss his cheek messily before he’s licking at his ear.
“‘M your boy,” he mumbles, panting. “‘M your boy, ‘m all yours, baby.”
“Fuck, yeah,” Eddie breathes, moving and moving and kind of wishing they’d at least taken their shirts off, because it suddenly feels like he’s in a sauna, and because he wants to feel Steve’s chest against his own. (Later.) “My baby boy, my perfect boy.”
Steve lets out a long groan, his fingers tightening in Eddie’s hair, and then— “Wait, stop—”
Eddie lifts his head, moving up so his hips aren’t touching Steve’s, looking at him wide-eyed. He’s biting his lip, his head thrown back against the sofa, his eyes squeezed shut so tightly it looks like it hurts.
“What’s wrong?” Eddie asks. “Is it too much, do you wanna stop?”
“No,” Steve huffs, sliding his hands to hold Eddie’s shoulders. “No, I just— I was gonna come.” He opens his eyes, looking at Eddie blearily. “You didn’t say I could.”
“Oh,” Eddie breathes. “You scared me,” he says, smiling softly at him and relaxing, lowering himself back down to touch Steve.
“Sorry, baby,” Steve apologises quietly, squeezing his shoulders, but Eddie just leans down and kisses him slowly, sliding his tongue against Steve’s and humming softly.
“It’s okay,” he says when he pulls away, pressing against him. Steve bites his lip to stifle a moan, but Eddie presses his thumb against his mouth, pulling his lip free. “Such a good boy.”
“Eddie, sir— I wanna come,” Steve whimpers. “Wanna come for you.”
Eddie exhales roughly, sitting up again and reaching down to Steve’s legs, which he grabs and shifts so they’re over his shoulders, and then Steve is wailing as Eddie grinds against him, faster, harder.
“Come for me, Stevie,” he says breathlessly, moaning when Steve reaches up and yanks his hair sharply, pulling him down so their mouths crash together. Steve groans when Eddie sucks on his tongue again, and his trembling hands are tugging his hair, and he’s whining loudly, and Eddie is grinning.
“There you go,” he murmurs, gritting his teeth and grunting roughly as his body flushes with heat, as he goes lightheaded. “I got you.”
“Fuck, Eddie.”
Steve’s body falls lax, and his hands fall, one of them hitting the back of the sofa before sliding down, the other falling over the side of the sofa, and he giggles like he’s high. His eyes are still closed.
“You okay?” Eddie whispers. Steve nods, smiling, dazed.
“Yes, sir, ‘m okay.” He’s breathing hard, his cheeks red and lovely. “You’re a fucking… sex god.”
Eddie laughs lightly, leaning down and kissing him softly. Steve lifts a hand, and it lands heavily on the side of Eddie’s head, smacking him. Eddie snorts.
“Shit, sorry,” Steve says, smiling softly and rubbing Eddie’s head apologetically. “My arms feel heavy.”
“‘S okay, baby.” He kisses him again. “Let me get you some water.”
Steve kisses him again before he lets him go.
Eddie picks up the ice cream bowl and spoons from the floor before he goes to the kitchen, and he sighs happily as he fills a glass at the sink.
Steve is just sitting up when Eddie gets back, stretching his legs and sighing as Eddie sits next to him, and then Eddie is helping him drink a glass of water for the second time today. Maybe this is something he could get used to. A drop escales the glass and slides over Steve’s cheek again, but this time Eddie does lick it away, giving into his desires as Steve lets go of the glass and he lowers it.
“You’re a menace,” Steve says, laughing softly but tilting his head so Eddie can kiss his jaw.
“You wanna shower?” Eddie asks, pushing his fingers through Steve’s hair.
“Together? Yes.”
Eddie laughs, and takes his hand, and leads him upstairs. Steve waits on his bed while Eddie picks his clothes out. (A pair of black boxers (though he’s tempted to not pick any underwear out at all; maybe another time), a pair of blue cut-off jogger shorts that are softer than he expected, and then he leaves and comes back with one of his own t-shirts, a worn thin Black Sabbath t-shirt that’s too big for either of them.) Steve smiles happily the whole time, waiting and watching patiently.
Steve lets Eddie undress him in the bathroom as the water in the shower heats up, and Eddie presses kisses across both his arms, his shoulders, collarbones, chest, stomach, hips, legs. All over his scars and moles and stretch marks, the light bruises from the coffee table and bannister at the bottom the stairs that he bumps into nearly every day, over his knuckles and fingertips and his forehead.
“I love you so much,” Steve breathes as Eddie is pulling off his own shirt, and the floor falls out underneath him, and everything in the world is flying through the air, and his heartbeat is so loud that he can’t hear his own breath, and then everything is landing, falling into place. His shirt slips from his fingers and he doesn’t care, because Steve is smiling at him in that way again, and then he’s kissing him, holding Steve’s face between his hands. Steve’s hands slide over his waist. His skin is warm.
“I love you too,” Eddie whispers, kissing him again. “So much, Stevie, I love you so much.”
Steve grins, pulling him in and kissing him again before he’s pushing Eddie’s pants down.
Eddie presses him against the glass wall of the shower, kissing him and kissing him and kissing and kissing him, until Steve finally pulls him into the shower.
Steve looks pretty even when his hair is wet and stuck to his face and neck. He also looks pretty on his knees.
Eddie has to ask Steve about his hair routine, smacking his hands when he reaches for the shampoo himself, and Steve tells him easily, smiling and resting his hands on Eddie’s waist as Eddie washes his hair gently.
It’s the longest shower Eddie’s ever taken, even though he joked about saving water when he started with Steve’s hair, because they keep getting distracted, touching and kissing each other like they have all the time and hot water in the world. Steve seems to have a particular interest in Eddie’s tattoos. He traces them with his fingers, then his tongue.
Steve went into the shower with two bruises on his neck, and he leaves with five, plus a scattered few on his collarbones and chest. Eddie leaves with four on his chest, and one, for some reason, on his left bicep.
They seperate to towel themselves off and dress, the room an odd sort of silent that feels like it echoes now that the spray of the shower is off, and Eddie allows Steve to put some product in his hair. He doesn’t know what it does, but Steve smiles happily at him in the foggy mirror that he’s wiped clear as he presses his hands through his curls gently.
They end up on the sofa again later, some movie on the screen, but Steve doesn’t bother even trying to pay attention, and Eddie almost can’t. He’s distracted by the way Steve is curled up in his lap, his drying hair brushing Eddie’s skin, his chest rising and falling with every breath. His skin is warm when Eddie pushes a hand under his (their?) shirt and rubs him gently. He knows Steve is falling asleep again, and it’s about dinner time, but he doesn’t care.
Steve has work tomorrow, and he’s picking up the kids from school, and he should rest today. Especially if he’s resting like this, his face tucked into Eddie’s neck, his hands curled against his chest, fucked tired and fully satiated.
Steve takes a breath, shifting in Eddie’s lap, and Eddie presses a hand to the small of his back, holding him tenderly.
“Love you, sir,” he mumbles, his lips brushing Eddie’s neck. Eddie smiles, turning his face to press a soft kiss to Steve’s forehead.
“Love you too, sweetheart.”
Steve will make dinner later, and he’ll pack leftovers to bring tomorrow for Robin. They haven’t talked about their sleeping arrangement, but Eddie assumes they’ll just take Steve’s room. Eddie’s will go back to being the guest room probably. Open for whenever Robin or Max or anyone else wants somewhere to stay that feels more like home than their parents’.
Which is something that makes Eddie particularly emotional.
This house has never been a loving, welcoming home for Steve, has never felt warm the way Uncle Wayne’s trailer felt. When Eddie moved in here, there weren’t any photos on the walls, or drawings on the fridge, or anything that made the house feel like anything more than walls and white paint. But now the dining table is covered with D&D figurines and notes and books, and there are photos taken of the kids and girls and Eddie and Jonathan and Argyle, and even Hopper and Joyce pinned up on walls and on the mantle and shelves in cheap frames Steve bought in town. None of them are professional photos, nothing staged or posed. They’re all from Jonathan, taken on his camera while the others talk and play and laugh, or taken on his camera by someone else, usually Will or Nancy.
There are even drawings on the fridge, kept up with colourful magnets that Joyce gifted Steve when his parents left. Drawings by Will, mostly, but also by Erica and Eleven, and one by Mike, which he tried to throw away, but Steve refused and put up with an M magnet since Mike refused to sign it.
Robin’s left a scarf behind, and it hangs by the door on the coat rack. Steve forgets it every morning. Erica and Nancy have left behind hair ties and bobby pins, which have collected on the coffee table. There are still pieces of confetti scattered around, blown and dusted into corners and under tables, from Max’s birthday party. Argyle’s left behind a weed grinder that Eddie uses on occasion just because. (Argyle doesn’t mind. He says it infuses it with Eddie’s energy, which he likes.)
There’s a first aid kit that’s stocked with everything they could ever possibly need, along with cartons and cartons of band-aids for everyone that Steve’s bought. Princesses for Erica and Eleven, Star Wars for Dustin, skateboards for Max. There are cases of Sprite and New Coke in the pantry next to a few six-packs of Eddie’s favourite beer.
Max likes to spend the night sometimes, happily taking up residence on the sofa with one of the many blankets that decorates the living room. Robin does too, in an effort to escape her overbearing, over critical mother, and she often sleeps with Steve, cuddled up against him, but she’ll need to take the guest room or get used to cuddling with Eddie, too.
Eddie doesn’t know if Steve knows it yet, that the house has become a home for everyone else.
He’ll tell him later.