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In hindsight, the lake may have been a stupid idea. In Steve’s defence, though, romantic gestures should always be grand. They’re made to communicate the big, mushy feelings one otherwise does not discuss with a lover or potential suitor, so go big or go home, right?
Anyway, courting Eddie – Jesus, Steve spends too much time with the guy, who says courting? – has been a trial and a half, so drastic measures are most definitely necessary. Because Eddie, and Steve cannot stress this enough, is possibly the most oblivious man alive.
Steve has tried it all. He tried to hold Eddie’s hand during a movie, and the guy initiated a thumb war with him. He bought Eddie flowers, and Eddie thought Steve had remembered Wayne’s birthday the following weekend and thanked him for being a good guy (which, point to Steve for being accidentally considerate. But still!). Shit, he’d even offered to give Eddie a massage, but Eddie had turned bright red and suggested they watch a movie instead.
And, look, Steve isn’t one to keep pushing if he’s clearly not wanted, but that’s not what this is. Eddie genuinely does not know that Steve would ride him like a pony if asked, and it’s getting ridiculous.
So. The lake.
It was a stroke of genius, Steve had thought when he’d first pitched it to Robin. Robin looked less convinced, but had agreed that, yeah, confessing your gushy feelings for someone on a lake during sunset was romantic.
Steve jumps, startled from his thoughts, when the car door opens and Eddie climbs back inside.
“What’s the haul?” Steve asks. He hadn’t mentioned to Eddie that he’s got beer and sandwiches packed when Eddie insisted they stop at a gas station for fuel (of the human variety.) (He’d meant candy.)
“Twizzlers, gum, and, uh, cigarettes,” Eddie says, already tearing a Twizzler in half with his teeth.
“We can eat exactly one of those things,” Steve says, starting the car again.
“Ah, but,” Eddie chews obnoxiously, tapping his forehead. “The other two feed the mind.”
Suppressing a smile, Steve hums as unconvincingly as he can.
The drive to the lake isn’t long, and for once, Eddie doesn’t hijack the radio. He doesn’t even complain when Steve plops in an It Bites album. He drums his fingers on the steering wheel and sings along to Kiss Like Judas in his best Tammy Thompson impression until Eddie cackles, throwing his head back.
“We’re here,” Steve says ten minutes later, parking on the side of the dirt road. Just up ahead, he can make out the shimmery surface of the lake, reflecting the beginning of the sun’s descent.
“Uh. Where’s here?” Eddie asks, peering out of the window curiously.
Even as Steve had steered them onto the dirt road leading here earlier, Eddie hadn’t asked about their destination. Steve hadn’t volunteered any information, and, well, here they are.
“Lake,” Steve says.
Eddie rolls his head to look at him. He blinks. “Ominous.”
“You like ominous,” Steve says, unable to bite back a smile. “C’mon, man.”
Eddie positively crows when Steve pulls the beer and sandwiches out of the trunk, delightedly accusing him of wining and dining him. He’s not wrong, but Steve doesn’t tell him that.
Once they make it down to the shore, Steve leads them over to the small dock he spent half his childhood fishing on. Eddie follows him wordlessly, watching as Steve plops their stuff into the boat tied to it.
“Why is there a boat?” Eddie asks.
“It’s my grandpa’s,” Steve says, untying the first rope.
“You have a grandpa?” Eddie asks. At the incredulous look Steve shoots him, he rushes to add, “I mean, uh, of course you– I just. Alive?”
“He’s alive, yeah,” Steve says. “Lives in a cabin half a mile that way.” He points in the vague direction of the cabin. He still remembers how the dirt smelled, walking down that path the first time he visited him.
Eddie looks in the direction. “Huh.”
Leaning back once he’s untied all the ropes, Steve says, “Okay. Hop in.”
Eddie does, stumbling a little.
“Shit,” he says, holding onto Steve’s arm. He looks at him with his big brown eyes, and Steve wants to kiss him so bad he gets a little dizzy. “I’m trusting you, man.”
“I’m great with boats,” Steve promises, unable to keep his eyes from flickering down to Eddie’s mouth. When he quickly looks back up, Eddie’s eyes widen an increment.
Clearing his throat, Steve follows Eddie into the boat. Once they’re both situated, smiling at each other, Steve starts to row. There’s barely a breeze tonight, the boat cutting sleekly through the undisturbed water.
It’s kind of perfect, he thinks, staring at the sun teasing the treeline to his right. Sunset’s just begun, Eddie’s in a boat with Steve, and no one’s around to overhear them.
Setting the oars down, Steve nudges the six-pack Eddie’s way. In companionable silence, they crack open a beer each and lean back.
There’s something so special about being out on the water at sunset, right when the sky kisses the ground. Eddie seems to think so too, eyes locked on the golden rays that spread out over the water, reaching like hands for them both. It kisses Eddie’s skin, an aureole glowing behind him, hair like fire, his eyes molten.
“You look good,” Steve says before he can stop himself. He can’t bring himself to take it back when Eddie flickers his eyes back to him, surprise and disbelief swimming there.
“Thanks,” Eddie says quietly. He’s not looking away.
Steve has to duck his head first, in the end, gaze settling on Eddie’s hands wrapped around his beer bottle. God, why do Eddie’s chunky rings look so good? And his fingers, big but slender… Steve wants to like, suck on them.
Jesus Christ.
“How’s the, um– the campaign going?” Steve asks.
The unreadable look on Eddie’s face washes away with a smirk as he jumps into retelling the latest DnD session he’d had with the Party.
“–was kiiinda all up to luck, though,” Eddie’s saying, “‘Cause the fucker tried to seduce Arachéa and it worked. Goodbye, battle plans.” He sighs dramatically, and it’s so charming. Steve’s charmed.
“The kids told me about that one in the car,” Steve tells him, lips pulling up. “It sounded really cool.”
Eddie’s pleased smile melts something in Steve, unearthing a strong desire to leap at him and kiss him stupid. He takes a sip of beer instead.
“Yeah, well,” he drawls after a moment. “Next time’s gonna be even better, I was thinking–” he pauses then, shaking his head. “Christ, anyway, I’ve been hogging the conversation, man. Sorry.”
“It’s cool,” Steve says. “I like hearing you talk.”
Eddie laughs, twisting a ring on his finger. He smiles wryly. “They didn’t call me Motormouth Munson for nothing.”
“Well, I might’ve been Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington, but I’ve got a brain. And ears.”
Shaking his head at him, Eddie huffs a laugh. “You’re something else, man.” He flickers his eyes up to him. “You know what I still can’t believe?”
Steve shakes his head.
“The whole– Nancy thing.”
Frowning, Steve tilts his head. “The Nancy thing? What about her?”
“Just–” Eddie flails a hand in the air. “That you guys went through all that shit together in, uh, you know, a literal hell dimension, and she still didn’t–” he doesn’t finish, but Steve thinks he gets the gist. Eddie exhales gustily. “And, uh– I totally pushed you to try anyway, which, sorry, by the way. And then I had to go and bleed to death all over you, traumatic as hell, so. Sorry. For the Nancy thing, and for the dying thing.”
Steve blinks quickly to wipe the image of Eddie’s bloodied body away from his mind.
He’s not sure what Eddie’s trying to do, here. He’s apologising for… getting hurt? For not being able to single-handedly rekindle a long-dead romance between Steve and his high school girlfriend?
“I–” he starts, shaking his head. “Eddie, we survived the Upside Down together. Not just me and Nancy. You’re acting like…” Like you’re not part of this. Of us. “Like we’re not friends,” he finishes lamely.
Eddie watches him for a long moment, face softening in the gentle sunlight.
“Okay,” he says finally. “You’re right. Sorry.”
“Stop apologising.” Steve pokes Eddie’s foot with his own.
“Sorry,” Eddie says, wearing a shit-eating grin. Steve rolls his eyes, letting it slide.
If only he could make Eddie see how integral a role he plays in the Party. It’s as if he’s blind to his influence, like he can’t see how big the loss of him could've been– would’ve been, if Steve hadn’t been able to revive him.
But… Well. Maybe he can. At the very least, he could open his eyes to how likeable he is, right? Now’s as good a time as any. Eddie’s beautiful in the low light, eyes reflecting the water.
Heart kicking up a notch, Steve takes a steadying breath. “Hey, um. I wanted to tell you something.”
Sweeping a hand through the air, Eddie says, “The floor is yours, my liege.”
“So,” Steve starts, his heart beating a tattoo against his ribs. “You know Henderson’s always on my case about, like, dating, and stuff.”
Eddie hums.
“Yeah, so. I guess I kinda just fell out of the habit? After Vecna, I mean? But,” he hesitates, swallowing. “Recently, I’ve kind of had my eyes on someone.”
He looks at Eddie meaningfully, trying to communicate how much he’s feeling right now telepathically.
Eyes flickering with – disappointment? That can’t be right – something, Eddie exaggerates a gasp.
“Do my ears deceive me?” Eddie stands, rocking the boat. “The King– in love?”
Steve hesitates. Yeah, he’s probably in love with Eddie, but that’s not exactly a first date conversation.
“Um. I mean, I– um–”
“Who is it?” Eddie asks, getting a foot on the plank in the middle of the boat, leaning closer. “Someone I know? I’ve gotta run a background check, dude. Gotta make sure she’s good enough for you.”
“Right,” Steve says, bewildered. Does Eddie not get that–? “Um. But, that’s not what– there’s no she, Eddie.”
Eddie frowns, opening his mouth before closing it again. And then he cocks his head. “Is this about Nancy? I know I said that stuff earlier, but–” he waves his hands in the air, turning his back to Steve to stare at the sun. “I wasn’t, uh– thinking, so–”
“Eddie,” Steve interrupts, half-tempted to stand too just to grab his shoulders and turn him back around. “I like you.”
Eddie whips around so quickly he trips over his own legs, yelping. Steve sees it happen in slow motion: the stumble, Eddie’s hands flailing, and finally, tragically, Eddie crashing right into the lake.
Steve stares at the water Eddie fell into, blinking wildly. It ripples ominously, bubbles rising to the surface.
“Shit,” he says faintly, and then he scrambles to his feet, diving in after Eddie.
It’s fucking cold, is what he thinks first, fighting the urge to gasp for breath. Then, when he gets his arms around Eddie’s thrashing limbs and Eddie nails him in the stomach with a wayward knee: fuck, ow, what the fuck.
Finally, though, after only a moment of panic that they’re both going to drown, he hauls Eddie back above the surface, kicking hard at the water to keep them afloat. Clumsily, he shoves the other man over the lip of the boat until he tumbles into it in a flailing mess of lake water and kelp and… ugh, dead fish. Steve follows with a little more elegance, lamenting their sandwiches which are absolutely soaked in dirty water.
“What the goddamn shitting fuck—“ Eddie hisses, his curls plastered to his face. He looks like a wet cat. He coughs, and hair and lake water go spraying. God, how is this the guy Steve’s heart has decided on?
“Are you okay?”
Eddie flails his arms dramatically, his eyes wide. “Wh– buh– Jesus Christ! You cannot tell a man, a mere mortal, that– agh!”
“That what?”
“That he is desired! On a lake, Steve!”
“I’m sorry?” Steve says, bewildered. “It’s– this is romantic!”
Hair hanging pathetically flat and wet over his forehead, Eddie stares at Steve.
“I don’t…” he blinks a couple of times, like a mouse. “You were serious.”
Steve blinks. “Um. Yes?”
Eddie points at himself, eyes big.
“You like me?” he asks, voice uncharacteristically shy.
Steve shuffles closer, laying a hesitant hand on Eddie’s knee. Eddie shivers beneath him.
Gaze settling on Eddie’s face, Steve murmurs, “For being the smartest guy I know, you can be a real idiot sometimes, Munson.”
“You gotta stop calling me Munson, Steve,” Eddie says, big brown eyes flicking between Steve’s.
Steve bites his lip around a smile, leaning in to rest his forehead against Eddie’s. He can’t believe the situations he lands himself in. All in the name of love. Nudging his nose against Eddie’s, Steve murmurs, “Sorry, my liege.”
“Jesus Christ,” Eddie breathes, leaning the rest of the way in. Their lips brush, tentative and cold, and then Steve presses closer, laying a hand on Eddie’s neck. He’s surprisingly warm there – but then, Eddie’s like a furnace, most of the time – and when his tongue brushes Steve’s own Steve’s brain short circuits. Heart pounding, head in the clouds, he nips at Eddie’s bottom lip, and is rewarded with a high-pitched, surprised little moan that sends desire skittering down his spine.
They pull apart on a gasp, just to stare at each other for a moment. Grinning, Eddie tips forward to kiss Steve again. Even damp, Steve loves him so much it hurts.
Steve’s never been particularly religious, but he kind of gets it now. He’s kissing a boy in the middle of a lake, soaking wet but warm nonetheless. He feels reborn.
Eddie pulls back with a slick sound, and Steve groans a little, trying to follow, chasing him. Eddie places a warm palm on Steve’s chest.
“Not that I’m not thoroughly enjoying this, Steve,” he breathes, “But I’m pretty sure there’s a dead fish in my shirt and it’s really distracting me.”
Steve blinks, then bursts into laughter. “What?”
“Wait!” Eddie exclaims, eyes wide and horrified. “I, uh, I don’t think it’s dead. It just bit my nipple.”
“No way.”
“And I only have one of those, Steve– oh my God, I’m serious–!” Eddie pulls at his shirt, and sure enough, out comes a tiny fish, flopping weakly on the deck. Slowly, eyes wide, Eddie leans down and scoops it into his palms. As he drops it back into the water, he closes his eyes solemnly. “Live a long life, my fishy friend. Thanks for keeping me company while I got kissed within an inch of my life.”
Steve cannot believe this is his life, but he wouldn’t trade it for the world.