[Reflexes are still high wired, of course - he catches it in a fist, hesitates on whether he should crash in Eddie's place, like somehow that might be a step too far in a day that has been full of weird little steps. His jaw grinds and he nods, then again. Pushing away from the counter, he feels a little jittery, suddenly.
Phew. ] Yeah. Yeah, thanks.
[PHEW. ] You need anything I'll be - y'know.
[It's a little cowardly that he is bailing now, but fuck it. Eddie seems very tender, Steve is very vulnerable and he doesn't belong here during it. So he hooks the key into his palm, gives a stiff little wave and escapes through the door and down the hall.
When he's in Eddie's room, he breathes hard. He's in a mood; the kind that he used to break stuff in, but now he's just too fucking tired for it. He does the next best thing; ditches his jacket, rummages around Eddie's shit for a joint and then lights one off. He kicks his shoes off, dips into the bathroom and stares at himself in the mirror.
Some part of Billy Hargrove stares back. His eyes seem so flat, and with the splint between his lips, he pulls his shirt open to look at the scars, to try and superimpose himself onto this body in a way where the two sides fit. Eddie Munson has let him crash in his space, Steve Harrington can't handle his liquor and Billy Hargrove doesn't know how to always be the person he's been today. Doesn't know if he can be it tomorrow once he's sober and had time to overthink and ruminate in his own jealousy and longing.
The blunt is burned down to fingertips when he finally strips down and climbs into Eddie's shower. For a while he just stands under the ice cold water, before he remembers heat is fine now - then he cranks it up hard and if he chokes a little, no one will here. If he jerks off in Eddie Munson's shower with ring-clad knuckles gripping his hair in his mind to force him deeper, or that tongue tasting the sweat from his neck instead of the air - no one will fucking know. If he comes with tears in his eyes, half-laughing in hysteria, no one will know.
By the time he crashes into Eddie's bed, he's naked, hair damp and he's out cold not long after his head hits the pillow. Idly, he hopes Steve doesn't choke on his own vomit. Hopes Eddie at least got to sleep in the bed. ]
[ It's going to be work. This - whatever the fuck this is - and it'll be more work if Steve decides that he'd rather trade up. Billy is hurt and hurt people are always the most fucking dangerous, especially when they've yet to even start to heal. Or when they've decided they have nothing left but a vendetta, or worse, a desire.
In truth, Eddie's worried. Billy Hargrove had left a score of wounds on his little flock. Steve may be willing to walk it off and turn over a new leaf, but he worries for Lucas. For Max... but a lifetime of living on the wrong side of the tracks has taught him it's better to befriend the monsters in the dark, rather than passively hoping they don't bite you.
He's done his fair share of monster taming. And, in his worst moments, he knows how to wound them enough so they know better than to come the fuck back. His reputation isn't entirely fabricated - it's just a part of himself he doesn't want to relive. A promise he'd made long, long ago to not be the kind of man his father was. To strive to be the kind of gentle and warm person his Uncle has always been, and to give others that same refuge from the hateful world outside.
For now, he's got to deal with Steve Harrington. Coaxing him up to take a drink and smoothing his hair down, grinning despite himself.
He grabs a pair of Steve's pants and reclaims a stolen shirt, retreating into the bathroom to take a shower and undress. His legs are sore from the sudden increase in walking - and he's not totally used to the prosthetic yet, so moshing was maybe not the smartest fucking idea he's ever had - but it's fine. He hangs out in the bathroom for a few moments with it off, rubbing the stump and giving himself a chance to breathe. Then he's snapping it back on and stepping outside.
Crawling into bed next to him. Slings an arm around him and tucks his face into the back of Steve's neck.
Snoozing lightly as the world dissolves from people talking to the hiss of a shower behind a wall, it's the peace and quiet that finally causes him to stir. It's dark and silent, save for the sound of vehicles on the road below his hotel room, and he's more than a little disorientated when he wakes; he slithers his way out of the embrace of a sleeping Eddie and sways on the spot, down a coat and sweatshirt but still somehow half-dressed.
His head throbs with the pure act of thinking. Urghhh.
Glancing back at Eddie in his bed, he smiles and feels mildly reassured that he didn't screw up everything about the night before even if Billy is missing. That's a little concerning. Instead of just standing beside his bed as gravity rights itself, Steve heads into the bathroom for a sobering shower, still a little fuzzy at the edges in a warm way but able to think more clearly. His chest kind of aches like he was pressed against something ... did he get carried last night? A few hours ago? What the hell is time?
Pulling on some soft slacks, he crawls back into bed and takes up a position behind Eddie to invert the one he woke up in, nosing the back of his neck and slotting their legs together with a mindfulness for the prosthetic. And if he drops a tired, emotionally wrung-out kiss to Eddie's shoulder, maybe no one needs to know about that. ]
[ He's got his face buried in the pillows, eyes still shut, arms still outstretched as they had been. he's asleep through the kiss, only rousing when steve settles again as he registers his arms are empty and there's someone now behind him.
he glances just to be sure he's only changed positions, not bedmates. then his head drops back against the pillow. ]
Mm... Don't puke on me.
[ so romantic. he shifts into a slightly more comfortable position. ]
Been on a lot of benders senior year, I don't puke easily.
[ Once Eddie is better settled, Steve slumps his weight against him again and finds his favourite spot behind an ear. The arm draped over Eddie gives a friendly, tentative squeeze. It feels so weird to be talking at night with all the lights off, like it's against the rules of a sleepover. ]
You were pretty wrecked, Harrington. I wasn't going to leave you alone.
[ regardless of how... weird he was feeling in the wake of whatever the panic was. or the jealousy. or - threatened feelings, whatever. none of that matters. ]
[ His hand slides under the hem of Eddie's shirt to press a palm against his middle, scars and all. The skin-on-skin contact is a connection he craves, blinking down at a shoulder. ]
I'm sorry I ran. I was thinking too much and I got ... scared. I just wanted to stop. Stop all of it.
[ there's a small stretch of silence. eddie mulls over his words carefully. ]
... Steve. [ actual name. no nickname. eddie opens his eyes and stares ahead into the dark. they haven't really put a label on this and he has to remind himself of that. steve harrington's experience with dating is very different from eddie's... in that it actually exists. ] If this freaks you out, we don't... have to be public, or whatever. [ ... ] Or anything. If you're not - if you don't want it.
No, [ There's near-petulant, argumentativeness behind his protest, shuffling closer, ] no, that's not what I meant.
[ His chin hooks over Eddie's shoulder as Steve further invades his space like a very wriggly, insistent dog concerned it isn't making its presence known enough. ]
I like you, I'm not ashamed of that. I'm so damn worried that you'll dump my ass but that's not what I was freaking out about.
You're worried [ he half turns, to get a better look at this poor neglected labrador retreiver of a boy ] that I [ a ring hand touches his chest ] am going to dump you.
[ incredulous. he flops back onto the pillow, covering his face with a hand and laughing. ]
Okay. Okay. What were you freaking the hell out about then?
[ okay, this is a conversation that should be held face to face. eddie pushes himself up and turns to face him. ]
I'm flattered, Harrington, trust me, that you think I'm hot enough to be the exception to your heterosexuality. [ wait back up before you make him feel bad. ] You just caught on to something you never noticed before. Doesn't change a damn thing about who you are or what you're like... just... who you like.
[ He might have known all of that in an amorphous sensible corner of his brain but it helps to hear someone say it. More to the point he can brush Eddie's hair over his shoulder and trace the rise of his cheek with a thumb, a sense of calm warming Steve from the chest-outwards as he soaks up Eddie's presence. Reassurance.
You stayed with me.
It means so much when Eddie could have taken off, clearly wanted to with Steve being an obtuse jerk about his sexual crisis. ]
[ The soft expression he wears tinges with a flirt and he dips forward to brush their lips over each other, lowering his voice to a purr. ]
Then I'm gonna need you to lie back and tell me exactly how to get you off with my mouth because all I've been thinking of lately is getting it on you, and then everything gets a little blurry.
[ jesus christ. that's shooting straight to his dick. eddie reaches up with both hands, cradling steve's face like he's something precious as he falls back and pulls him back with him. ]
[ Steve learns the valuable lesson that there is no such thing as too much tongue when it comes to pleasing either sex. After covering Eddie in soft kisses that carefully avoid scraping teeth over scars, he learns exactly how to choke himself in record time and consequently how to breathe so he doesn't, making it not the smoothest blowjob any man has experienced by far but certainly one of the most enthusiastic, hot-wet and sloppy. He likes most how Eddie writhes and begs, how he tastes like sweat and salt, then burns the back of Steve's throat before he can pull off (because he's an idiot who has to try to go for gold first try), but it really is the sound of him getting off and the way Steve can feel it under his hands and mouth as quivering tension ...
He gets off with almost comical ease at the first touch of Eddie's hand, and then the world narrows to the bed and the way a beam of early sunrise cuts through the curtains, right across them.
That glass of water comes in handy.
Some time later, after snuggling and joking as they doze, Steve gives the ceiling a frown. ]
[ He's a lucky fuck and he knows it. Sinfully lucky. He'll never be able to forget those big brown eyes looking up at him, the wet heat of his mouth, the immediacy in which Steve got off afterwards. Jesus fuck.
He's near to dozing when Steve asks that question. And then those big brown eyes are snapping open. ]
Shit! [ he sits up. ] He was looking kind of off so I sent him to my room.
[ Steve continues to lie on his back, bringing a knee up under the blankets. ]
He probably feels shitty because he had to carry home the guy he has a crush on and leave him alone with his boyfriend with no payoff. He'll get over it.
[ Well, it's morning now. May as well sit up too, stretch, and without missing a beat kiss the confusion off that questioning mouth, tilting Eddie's chin to face him. ]
I'm not a loose woman, Munson. [ With finality as he gets up to find his slacks, he states, ] I just sucked your dick, you're my boyfriend.
Gotcha. Dicksucking seals the deal. [ he presses in for another kiss, and then: ]
But for real, babe, hate to tell you but I have a lot of illegal shit in my room right at this second. And we'd better make sure he didn't get into it.
... Yeah, that's actually a good reason to check up on him.
[ Steve is gonna go tame his bedhead in the bathroom, calling back. ]
He told me he was flirting, back in school. Got me alone in here and waxed lyrical about how cute I look when I'm upset or some junk like that, not the most flattering compliment I've ever gotten.
Yeah, well, [ he swings himself out of bed, wincing a little as he stands up on what is definitely a bruised knee. ] he was kinda eyefucking you all night. That guy has no game outside of raw sexual magnetism. Which... gets you pretty far in the circles we run in, honestly. Less if you actually give a shit about the person. [ and you were also eyeballing him too ]
Yeah, well, that raw sexual energy could do with a sweater now and then, it couldn't hurt.
[ Clothes, uhhh. Jeans and not one of Eddie's shirts, he feels like that's a running joke threatening to happen. Steve's head pops out the neckline and he turns down the collar, heading into the kitchenette. ]
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Phew. ] Yeah. Yeah, thanks.
[PHEW. ] You need anything I'll be - y'know.
[It's a little cowardly that he is bailing now, but fuck it. Eddie seems very tender, Steve is very vulnerable and he doesn't belong here during it. So he hooks the key into his palm, gives a stiff little wave and escapes through the door and down the hall.
When he's in Eddie's room, he breathes hard. He's in a mood; the kind that he used to break stuff in, but now he's just too fucking tired for it. He does the next best thing; ditches his jacket, rummages around Eddie's shit for a joint and then lights one off. He kicks his shoes off, dips into the bathroom and stares at himself in the mirror.
Some part of Billy Hargrove stares back. His eyes seem so flat, and with the splint between his lips, he pulls his shirt open to look at the scars, to try and superimpose himself onto this body in a way where the two sides fit. Eddie Munson has let him crash in his space, Steve Harrington can't handle his liquor and Billy Hargrove doesn't know how to always be the person he's been today. Doesn't know if he can be it tomorrow once he's sober and had time to overthink and ruminate in his own jealousy and longing.
The blunt is burned down to fingertips when he finally strips down and climbs into Eddie's shower. For a while he just stands under the ice cold water, before he remembers heat is fine now - then he cranks it up hard and if he chokes a little, no one will here. If he jerks off in Eddie Munson's shower with ring-clad knuckles gripping his hair in his mind to force him deeper, or that tongue tasting the sweat from his neck instead of the air - no one will fucking know. If he comes with tears in his eyes, half-laughing in hysteria, no one will know.
By the time he crashes into Eddie's bed, he's naked, hair damp and he's out cold not long after his head hits the pillow. Idly, he hopes Steve doesn't choke on his own vomit. Hopes Eddie at least got to sleep in the bed. ]
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In truth, Eddie's worried. Billy Hargrove had left a score of wounds on his little flock. Steve may be willing to walk it off and turn over a new leaf, but he worries for Lucas. For Max... but a lifetime of living on the wrong side of the tracks has taught him it's better to befriend the monsters in the dark, rather than passively hoping they don't bite you.
He's done his fair share of monster taming. And, in his worst moments, he knows how to wound them enough so they know better than to come the fuck back. His reputation isn't entirely fabricated - it's just a part of himself he doesn't want to relive. A promise he'd made long, long ago to not be the kind of man his father was. To strive to be the kind of gentle and warm person his Uncle has always been, and to give others that same refuge from the hateful world outside.
For now, he's got to deal with Steve Harrington. Coaxing him up to take a drink and smoothing his hair down, grinning despite himself.
He grabs a pair of Steve's pants and reclaims a stolen shirt, retreating into the bathroom to take a shower and undress. His legs are sore from the sudden increase in walking - and he's not totally used to the prosthetic yet, so moshing was maybe not the smartest fucking idea he's ever had - but it's fine. He hangs out in the bathroom for a few moments with it off, rubbing the stump and giving himself a chance to breathe. Then he's snapping it back on and stepping outside.
Crawling into bed next to him. Slings an arm around him and tucks his face into the back of Steve's neck.
It takes a while for sleep to come. ]
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Snoozing lightly as the world dissolves from people talking to the hiss of a shower behind a wall, it's the peace and quiet that finally causes him to stir. It's dark and silent, save for the sound of vehicles on the road below his hotel room, and he's more than a little disorientated when he wakes; he slithers his way out of the embrace of a sleeping Eddie and sways on the spot, down a coat and sweatshirt but still somehow half-dressed.
His head throbs with the pure act of thinking. Urghhh.
Glancing back at Eddie in his bed, he smiles and feels mildly reassured that he didn't screw up everything about the night before even if Billy is missing. That's a little concerning. Instead of just standing beside his bed as gravity rights itself, Steve heads into the bathroom for a sobering shower, still a little fuzzy at the edges in a warm way but able to think more clearly. His chest kind of aches like he was pressed against something ... did he get carried last night? A few hours ago? What the hell is time?
Pulling on some soft slacks, he crawls back into bed and takes up a position behind Eddie to invert the one he woke up in, nosing the back of his neck and slotting their legs together with a mindfulness for the prosthetic. And if he drops a tired, emotionally wrung-out kiss to Eddie's shoulder, maybe no one needs to know about that. ]
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he glances just to be sure he's only changed positions, not bedmates. then his head drops back against the pillow. ]
Mm... Don't puke on me.
[ so romantic. he shifts into a slightly more comfortable position. ]
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Been on a lot of benders senior year, I don't puke easily.
[ Once Eddie is better settled, Steve slumps his weight against him again and finds his favourite spot behind an ear. The arm draped over Eddie gives a friendly, tentative squeeze. It feels so weird to be talking at night with all the lights off, like it's against the rules of a sleepover. ]
You stayed with me.
[ A casual observation. ]
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[ regardless of how... weird he was feeling in the wake of whatever the panic was. or the jealousy. or - threatened feelings, whatever. none of that matters. ]
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I'm sorry I ran. I was thinking too much and I got ... scared. I just wanted to stop. Stop all of it.
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... Steve. [ actual name. no nickname. eddie opens his eyes and stares ahead into the dark. they haven't really put a label on this and he has to remind himself of that. steve harrington's experience with dating is very different from eddie's... in that it actually exists. ] If this freaks you out, we don't... have to be public, or whatever. [ ... ] Or anything. If you're not - if you don't want it.
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[ His chin hooks over Eddie's shoulder as Steve further invades his space like a very wriggly, insistent dog concerned it isn't making its presence known enough. ]
I like you, I'm not ashamed of that. I'm so damn worried that you'll dump my ass but that's not what I was freaking out about.
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You're worried [ he half turns, to get a better look at this poor neglected labrador retreiver of a boy ] that I [ a ring hand touches his chest ] am going to dump you.
[ incredulous. he flops back onto the pillow, covering his face with a hand and laughing. ]
Okay. Okay. What were you freaking the hell out about then?
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Steve swallows, sitting up on a bent elbow. ]
I think I like men. Like, generally, not just you. Like I like women.
[ He's saying like a lot, shit. ]
It didn't really ... sink in before. I don't know anything about being like this.
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I'm flattered, Harrington, trust me, that you think I'm hot enough to be the exception to your heterosexuality. [ wait back up before you make him feel bad. ] You just caught on to something you never noticed before. Doesn't change a damn thing about who you are or what you're like... just... who you like.
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[ He might have known all of that in an amorphous sensible corner of his brain but it helps to hear someone say it. More to the point he can brush Eddie's hair over his shoulder and trace the rise of his cheek with a thumb, a sense of calm warming Steve from the chest-outwards as he soaks up Eddie's presence. Reassurance.
You stayed with me.
It means so much when Eddie could have taken off, clearly wanted to with Steve being an obtuse jerk about his sexual crisis. ]
Like I said, I really like you.
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[ he leans into the touch a little, leaning in just a little. giving steve room to back out if he's still mid-crisis and isn't in the mood. ]
Well... That's convenient. Because, see... I really like you too.
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Then I'm gonna need you to lie back and tell me exactly how to get you off with my mouth because all I've been thinking of lately is getting it on you, and then everything gets a little blurry.
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He gets off with almost comical ease at the first touch of Eddie's hand, and then the world narrows to the bed and the way a beam of early sunrise cuts through the curtains, right across them.
That glass of water comes in handy.
Some time later, after snuggling and joking as they doze, Steve gives the ceiling a frown. ]
What happened to Hargrove?
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He's near to dozing when Steve asks that question. And then those big brown eyes are snapping open. ]
Shit! [ he sits up. ] He was looking kind of off so I sent him to my room.
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[ Steve continues to lie on his back, bringing a knee up under the blankets. ]
He probably feels shitty because he had to carry home the guy he has a crush on and leave him alone with his boyfriend with no payoff. He'll get over it.
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[ because he's maybe not the most stable person in the world? Eddie gives his head a shake, open to try to broach the subject but
Stops]
Boyfriend?
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I'm not a loose woman, Munson. [ With finality as he gets up to find his slacks, he states, ] I just sucked your dick, you're my boyfriend.
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But for real, babe, hate to tell you but I have a lot of illegal shit in my room right at this second. And we'd better make sure he didn't get into it.
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[ Steve is gonna go tame his bedhead in the bathroom, calling back. ]
He told me he was flirting, back in school. Got me alone in here and waxed lyrical about how cute I look when I'm upset or some junk like that, not the most flattering compliment I've ever gotten.
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We talked a little after you passed out.
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[ Clothes, uhhh. Jeans and not one of Eddie's shirts, he feels like that's a running joke threatening to happen. Steve's head pops out the neckline and he turns down the collar, heading into the kitchenette. ]
What did you talk about?
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