Chapter Text
EDDIE POV
Eddie stands at the sink, paralyzed as his fingers turn pruny in the water, too focused on what he’d seen in his part-time customer, full-time object of his affection’s shower to remember to turn the faucet off.
It has to be a joke.
Or maybe a prank, some sort of lost bet from his baseball season that Steve casually forgot to mention before letting Eddie use his bathroom.
Whatever it is, he can’t stop staring because the terrifyingly realistic plastic dick suctioned to the wall won’t stop staring back at him. Thick and veiny, it stands proudly where Steve— where Steve what, exactly?
He does his best not to let his mind run away from him, imagining all of the things Steve could do with it. All of things he’s imagined already in the safety of his own depraved fantasies, but now with the added benefit of a visual aid.
Eddie’s brain tumbles gracelessly as he shakes his head and finally realizes the water is starting to burn his hands.
Was that for his hookups? Did Steve use that?
“You good in there, dude?” Steve’s voice surprises him from behind the door. “The fan’s broken but uh, there should be some sort of spray under the sink.”
Great, now Steve thinks he destroyed his bathroom. Is that better or worse than the actual truth? What’s less humiliating?
Too many questions, too many unanswerable questions.
Eddie grasps desperately for a coherent sentence, drying his hands on the thighs of his jeans and taking a deep breath before opening the door. Steve stands on the opposite side, both eyebrows raised in his cutout tank top and basketball shorts. Eddie feels the traitorous heat creep up his neck.
“No, nope, all good!”
Smooth, Munson, he berates himself. Steve is a lot of things, but stupid and unobservant isn’t one of them. Between the tension in his voice, the flush in his cheeks, and his unblinking stare, he’s acutely aware of the terrible fucking job he’s doing of pretending to be normal.
Normalcy has never been his forte.
“You look like you saw a ghost in there.” Steve glances behind Eddie and after a few seconds, chuckles.
He fucking chuckles as if what Eddie actually saw doesn’t have his brain leaking out of his ears as he tries to make two plus two equal five.
“Oh, you saw that? In the shower?”
“Saw what? I didn’t see anything.” The words fall out of his mouth too quickly to be the slightest bit convincing.
“Ed, it’s fine.” Steve turns back to him with an amused, unabashed smirk. “It’s not some big secret. Sorry if it made you like, uncomfortable or anything. I usually make sure to pull the curtain closed but I was sorta in a rush earlier when you texted.”
Eddie blinks back at him. “So, you just have that there all the time? Not just when you have like, a girl over?”
Why am I asking that? Why didn’t I just say it was No Big Deal and go the fuck home?
Wayne always used to tell him that his curiosity would be his undoing and like always, Wayne is right.
“Yeah, why?” Steve simply shrugs and nods.
Because it’s a dick, he thought, his thoughts clunking their way through the filter between his mind and his mouth. Because if you have that in your shower, that leads me to think you use it. And if you use that plastic hunk of phallic pleasure for yourself, that would give me the freedom to delude myself into thinking I have a shot.
“Wait, wait. Did you… uh, okay. Did you not know?” Steve asks.
“Clearly not, but did I not know what?”
“C’mon,” Steve blows an exhale out through pursed lips and runs a hand through his hair, scratching the tip of his nose as he glances back into the bathroom. “I really don’t wanna have this conversation with Realistic Rodney staring at me.”
“What conver— Realistic Rodney?!” Eddie shakes his head, wild curls flying around as he whips his head back to the bathroom for one last look before scrambling to follow Steve into the living room.
Ahead of him by a few steps, Steve turns and laughs over his shoulder.
“That’s nothing, trust me.”
Right where he’d left it all, Eddie makes it to the living room and sees his little metal lunchbox open on the coffee table. Rolling papers, his heavy silver grinder, several baggies and a small scale spill out the top as Steve plops down onto the black pleather futon.
“You named your dildo?” Eddie can’t believe the question, even as it falls out of his mouth.
Steve snorts, his nose crinkling as he shakes his head. “I do name some of my uh… things, yeah, but that one wasn’t me. Blame the internet.”
Some of my things.
Things.
Plural.
Eddie feels like he might pass out.
He reverts to what he does best: distraction. Taking a seat next to Steve on the futon— a careful distance apart so he doesn’t risk the intrusive thoughts winning— he grabs a baggie and starts to weigh out a quarter. It’s tedious in the way he needs it to be, mindless and focused on breaking the bud into smaller pieces and waiting for the scale to read exactly seven grams.
“Dude, since when do you weigh my shit out? I trust you, you haven’t shorted me in four years.”
Steve scoots closer and Eddie may die, become one of those spontaneous combustion statistics. Maybe he’ll be the first person to die imagining his crush— maybe more— riding Realistic Rodney in the shower. He always wanted to leave a legacy, after all. And sure Eddie knows doesn’t need to weigh anything out anymore, not with Steve, but old habits die hard and if he doesn’t have something to do with his hands, he might do something incredibly fucking stupid.
“Just wanna be honest, y’know? Do you want me to pre-roll a joint or two for you while I’m at it?” His hands shake as he reaches for a rolling paper, only stopping when Steve reaches over and lays his hand on Eddie's wrist.
“Did the dildo thing freak you out that bad? Jesus, you’re shaking and look like you’re ready to fucking bolt. Are you alright? Can we just like, talk for a second?”
They don’t do this.
For better or worse, Eddie’s a creature of habit, a reveler in familiarity. Part of him wonders if that’s why he hasn’t tried harder to graduate: change is terrifying and the familiar is safe. And the familiar with Steve over the last few years has consisted of Eddie selling him weed and smoking together during the off-season, and sharing a cheap beer with a shitty movie during baseball season.
They don’t talk. They don’t touch. And Steve definitely doesn’t look at him like this.
Against his instincts, Eddie takes a breath and drops the bud in his hand to the laminate coffee table.
“I’m sorry, man. I’m not like, freaked out by the thing in the bathroom. It’s fine— it’s great, honestly. I just wasn’t expecting it and… yeah.” He pulls his arm back and rests both forearms on his knees, still not daring to look at Steve. “I don’t know, it’s really not a big deal and it’s cool. We’re cool.”
“You know I’m bi, right?” Steve blurts out with a slight edge to his tone. Enough of one for Eddie to tear his gaze from the generic beige carpet beneath his feet.
He’s never needed to roll a joint more in his life.
“I— I didn’t know that, no. I, uh, you… you never mentioned it. Thanks for telling me though?” Eddie stammers his way through a response he’d want to hear while doing his best to keep his brain-stem from fully collapsing under the weight of this afternoon’s revelations.
“I should’ve figured,” Steve clears his throat, looking away and then back to Eddie with a careful, lopsided grin and a shrug. “It’s not really like, a big secret or anything anymore, hasn’t been since my freshman year, so sometimes I forget that people might not just know.”
“Wait…” Eddie muses, remembering just a few months ago. “So that other guy who was over here all the time a few months ago, you were—“
“Tommy, yeah.” Steve finishes for him, cringing. “We were kind of a thing for a little bit but things got awkward and didn’t work out.”
“What happened?” Eddie asks, curiosity getting the better of him.
“Not my finest moment but I might’ve sort of called him the wrong name when we were, y’know.” Steve makes a face as he trails off, his mouth twisting up in discomfort.
“You didn’t!”
“I did,” Steve groans. “Like I said, not my finest moment! It just slipped out but I couldn’t back pedal enough because I knew I was thinking about the person who’s name I said a lot. Once it was out there, I couldn’t take it back or say it didn’t mean anything because I’m not a liar. It was written all over my face, dude.”
Eddie hums and nods, leaning back into the futon. It’s not particularly comfortable, but at least the pillow supports his back. As he settles, he notices Steve’s leg grazing his own.
Were we that close before?
“Fair enough,” Eddie concedes, ignoring the feeling of Steve’s bare skin against the rough denim of his jeans. “I’ll respect the honesty. But did it not work out with whoever the mystery person was in your fantasy then? Pretty sure I remember you complaining about being single forever and dying alone just a few weeks ago.”
“I wasn’t complaining, I was just talking, like friends do.”
“Isn’t that usually reserved for Robin?”
“Normally, yeah, but I think she was starting to consider a felony if I kept it up,” Steve huffs a small laugh through his nose. “I didn’t make a move though, didn’t wanna make things uncomfortable.”
“Oh c’mon,” Eddie encourages, digging his own fucking grave. “If you said their name when someone else was sucking your dick, you’ve gotta take a swing at it, or whatever fucking baseball terminology works here. Hell, you’re gonna be an MLB prospect, Steve. Anyone would be lucky to hitch their wagon to you.”
Steve laughs and Eddie smiles, proud even through the pining. It’s always a good day when he gets to see that laugh— nose scrunched, wrinkles forming around his eyes, head leaning back onto the couch cushion. He’s so focused on his laughter that he almost misses Steve’s eyes. His face settles into a softer, warmer expression as the laughter dissipates, a gentle smile blossoming with something behind it that looks like a secret.
“Don’t you think that’d be sort of stupid though? I mean, I already fucked up a friendship with Tommy, why would I wanna risk another one?”
“So it’s a friend?”
Eddie starts running through the list of friends he knows of Steve’s. It’s obviously not Robin, and it can’t be his former flame Nancy who’s now dating Robin. Jonathan just moved across the country with his boyfriend, Argyle, and it’s definitely not Tommy.
Maybe someone else on the team? Maybe a cheerleader? Do baseball teams even have cheerleaders? Maybe it’s that girl Brenda who called the last time he was over? Steve didn’t seem too excited though. Maybe—
“What would you do?” Steve interrupts his spiral, knocking his knee against Eddie’s intentionally this time. “Like, if a friend made a pass at you and you weren’t interested?”
“I’d thank them kindly for the compliment, not be an asshole, and agree to never speak of it again.” Eddie answers honestly. “I don’t have a ton of friends, and I’m not in the business of running the ones I do have out of my life for liking me too much.”
Silence can be loud and this time, it rings in Eddie’s ears, reverberating off the walls of Steve’s shitty off-campus apartment. With nothing but the clattering of his pulse to hide the sounds of Steve scooting even closer— close enough that even Eddie starts to wonder, to hope— he searches with wide eyes for a trace of doubt in Steve’s.
“Well, that’s good to know, then,” he mutters. “Because I accidentally called him Eddie.”
It’d be too cliche for Eddie to admit his heart skips beats, battering against his ribs like it’s trying to escape its cage, but his breath does catch in his throat when he imagines someone else’s lips wrapped around Steve’s cock and Steve moaning out for him.
This is not how he saw today going when he swung by for a casual drop-off.
“You know a lot of Eddie’s?” He tries for humor but his voice comes out choking, borderline hysterical.
“Just the one,” Steve clears his throat and shrugs, chewing on his bottom lip with one arm draped over the back of the futon. “This is me trying to make a pass at you, by the way, since you’re impossible. And if you’re not into it, it’s totally fine. I get it. We can just never bring it up again—”
“Steve,” Eddie interrupts, clapping him on the shoulder with one slightly clammy palm in a too-tight grip. “I’m so into it— into you— there’s a chance I combust right here on this couch, okay? I saw that thing in the shower and nearly vaporized into thin fucking air at your sink. I probably used all of your hot water actually because I froze with my hands in the water so sorry about that but I— holy shit, please, if this was some test or prank or whatever, tell me now before I make a well and true ass of myself.”
More than I already probably have, he wants to add, but doesn’t get the chance because his lips are suddenly busy elsewhere. Busy moving against Steve’s who closes the distance between them on the couch faster than Eddie can take a breath from his rambling.
Fucking jock, Eddie barely pieces together, thoughts distant in the cavernous echo chamber of his brain as Steve leans over him, his free hand hand bracing against Eddie’s hip as he pulls Eddie’s bottom lip between his teeth.
It should be embarrassing, how quickly his body responds but his back arches off the couch and he groans into Steve’s mouth, both hands twisting into the loose fabric of Steve’s shirt that hangs between them to pull him closer. Chest to chest, Steve’s hands anchor him as a levee breaks and it’s all teeth and tongues and lips, all hands and fingers tugging at the hair hanging at the base of Eddie’s skull.
Eddie groans when Steve tucks his thigh between Eddie’s, spreading his knees and dropping one foot to the floor to make enough room—
“Shit,” he hisses against Steve’s lips as Steve grinds down against him, the barrier of his boxers and the tight denim of jeans barely containing his straining cock.
“God, you look so good like this,” Steve whispers, diving back in as Eddie’s head thunks back against the arm of the couch, exposing his throat like prey happily rolling over. The sharp bite of Steve’s teeth against his skin sends a shock down his spine, a lightning rod laid out beneath its crush’s body.
Eddie turns to offer more flesh for Steve to mark and hazily notices the unused rolling papers laid out on the coffee table, a reminder that he isn’t high off weed and the floating sensation is just Steve.
Steve, Steve, Steve, he thinks, maybe even says, as he rocks his hips up to meet Steve’s downwards motions. Without thinking, he trails his hands down Steve’s sides, pausing over his ass and digging his fingers into the firm, perfect flesh that’s been a recurring character in his dreams for longer than he’ll ever admit.
“Go ahead, baby,” Steve breathes, kissing and licking his way from Eddie’s collarbone to his earlobe. “Take whatever you need.”
He hadn’t realized that he’s holding Steve tight against him and rocking his hips to his own rhythm, but something in the combination of Baby and being given permission he hadn’t even thought to ask for ignites something new in Eddie. Something incendiary, something that scorches him from the inside and cauterizes the ghosts of old wounds.
Eddie doesn’t get to take.
Eddie gives, he deals, he serves a purpose.
He doesn’t get to take, but Steve’s offering the option of having him and that’s not an opportunity Eddie will ever decline. Good things so rarely fall in his lap— literally, in this case— so Eddie lets himself be a little greedy.
Sweat plasters his tee shirt to his back and the faint scent of Steve mixes with the earthiness of his lunchbox left ajar and forgotten for a drug much more addictive. Strong arms snake beneath his shoulders as Eddie grinds up against Steve’s thigh, over and over, faster and faster. Steve’s hair tickles his chin as he ducks his head and pulls Eddie closer still, guiding his head into the crook of Steve’s shoulder. With his jaw slack, he mouths at the side of Steve’s neck, sloppy and thoughtless as he rides the familiar wave lapping at him, threatening to drag him under with each thrust.
“Steve, fuck,” Eddie whimpers, eyes fluttering closed.
“Been thinking about this for so long, Ed. Want you. C'mon, baby, come for me,” Steve pants against his skin, hot and urgent. He pulls back just enough for Eddie to see Steve and his pinched eyebrows and resolute expression, his swollen lips and flushed cheeks.
He’s not sure what does it. Maybe it's the command, the desperation, or maybe it's the way Steve nudges his thigh against him at just the right angle, but Eddie’s entire body tightens like a coil wound too tight the moment before it snaps. Steve’s eyes don’t leave his, not even when he digs his fingernails into the flesh of his ass hard enough to leave some questionable bruises through the fabric of his basketball shorts. All Steve does is nod, permissive, and rest his forehead against Eddie’s as Eddie falls apart.
“Fuck, fuck, I’m gonna— shit, shit, shit!” He cuts himself off with a choked gasp, back arching as he comes, sticky and sweaty into the jeans he hadn’t even thought to unbutton. It comes in waves and Eddie holds onto Steve, arms wrapping around his waist and gripping tight to the back of his shirt as he rides out the never-ending undulations until he finally, finally, goes boneless.
Silence settles again, this time placid and still. Steve doesn’t pull away, doesn’t shove him off or leave him in the haze. He only rolls to the side slightly, just enough for Eddie to catch his breath but close enough to not untangle their legs or Eddie’s loosened grip on his shirt.
The closeness is something else Eddie lets himself take.
Eventually, he blinks his eyes open to see Steve smiling down at him.
“Hi,” Steve breathes.
“Hi,” Eddie smiles back. “Holy shit.”
The tranquility gives way to quiet, bewildered laughter from both Eddie and Steve.
“Yeah, holy shit about covers it,” Steve agrees, pushing pieces of hair plastered to Eddie’s forehead back and away from his face. “Are you okay? We probably should’ve like, taken these off.”
“Probably, but it might’ve been for the best. I think I just saw God there and you didn’t even touch my dick.” Eddie looks down at where Steve’s tugging at the waistband of his jeans and shrugs. “But I sure would like for you to touch my dick next time, just, y’know. All cards on the table.”
“You’re ridiculous and sign me up,” Steve snorts and shakes his head, mindlessly running his knuckles up and down Eddie’s bicep. “Since you’re a mess though, how about we go get you cleaned up?”
“You haven’t gotten off yet though,” Eddie furrows his eyebrows as Steve rolls off of him, his own erection still poking through the thin fabric of his shorts.
“Who said we were done?” Steve smirks, lopsided, and extends a hand to help Eddie up to his feet. “C’mon, I’ve got a shower with our name on it.”
In his post-orgasm daze, Eddie doesn’t register the word shower, or that the shower with his name on it is the same shower where this all began.
He doesn’t register it until he’s stripped naked in the tub-shower enclosure with an equally naked Steve Harrington and a prominent dildo suctioned to the wall that, while still impressive, can’t even begin to compare to the real thing in front of him.
They should make a mold of that thing, Eddie thinks to himself as Steve rinses the soapy lather from his shoulders, working his hands down his chest, his stomach. His cock gives a feeble twitch as Steve washes away the leftover tacky residue, grinning up at him and licking his lips before pressing a soft kiss to the skin over his hip.
“Steve, are you trying to kill me?” Eddie teases.
“Maybe.” He kisses his thigh this time, and Eddie leans back against the wall opposite the toy. The same one he couldn’t stop staring at earlier, and the one he can’t stop staring at now.
This time though, he’s staring with intention.
He’s seen Steve’s ass now, seen his blown-out pupils and heard his desperate pleas. What does he sound like in here alone? He’d admitted to saying his name when hooking up with Tommy— has he said it in here, too? Imagined that the toy was actually Eddie, bracing himself against the wall with shaking hands and weak knees?
His visceral imagination and Steve’s lips are almost enough to get him hard all over again.
“You’re not subtle, y’know,” Steve starts, standing back up and placing a hand on Eddie’s bare hip and glances back over his shoulder before turning his smirk back to Eddie. “Since we’re in here, do you want a demonstration of Realistic Rodney?”
For the second time in as many hours, Eddie thinks he might pass out.