Steddie Oneshots

Russian Spy

 Steve is currently sprawled out on his couch, waiting patiently for the doorbell to ring. He's wearing a powder-pink hoodie and skinny black jeans, which he wouldn't be wearing on a regular day. The hoodie used to be his cousin Cindy's, he borrowed it permanently at the last family reunion. The jeans were just comfortable. He'd deny ownership if anyone ever asked him.

Suddenly the bell rings and he leaps up, practically sprinting towards the door. He composes himself a foot away from the door, running a hand through his hair and opening the door calmly. On his front porch stands a jittery Eddie Munson, hopping from one foot to another.

"Steve move, it's frickin' cold," Eddie says through grit teeth, pushing past Steve and making himself at home. "Your house is nice. And WARM!" Eddie yells, flopping dramatically onto the couch. Steve follows him and takes a seat by Eddie's feet, pushing them aside.

"Scoot, you're taking up the whole couch," Steve grumbles. Eddie smirks at him, crossing his feet and putting them on Steve's lap. Steve huffs but doesn't protest, fiddling with the laces on Eddie's black and white converse.

"Oh, and I brought the stuff," Eddie says, sitting up and pulling a plastic bag from his pocket. "Wanna smoke it now?"

"Hell yeah."

***

They got high as hell. Eddie had a casual high, mostly amplifying his Eddie-ness. He said what he thought, more than usual. Steve on the other hand became sensitive, touchy-feely, and clingy.

They sat on the floor, backs against the couch while Steve's record player played in the background. Thirteen by Big Star echoed faintly as Steve lay in Eddie's arms. He was leaning against the other boy, head in the crook of his neck, with Eddie's arm around his waist.

"I like the color pink on you," Eddie says out of nowhere. Steve looks up at him and snorts. "What?"

"Pink's for girls, I'm not a girl," Steve says, smiling.

"People say nail polish and long hair's for girls, look at me," Eddie points out, wiggling his black painted nails in front of Steve's face.

"You're different, Eddie," Steve huffs, squishing their sides further together. Eddie doesn't respond for a moment, and Steve's ears are trained on the sound of him breathing.

"Why can't you be different, Steve? What's the difference between you and me?" Eddie asks. Steve suddenly has the feeling they're no longer just referring to the color pink.

"Dunno. Jus' can't," Steve shrugs. "And you're brave and you don't care what people think. I can't not care what people think. I guess it's just not in my nature."

"But why does it matter anymore? You're not in high school and you're looking for an apartment. The only substantial people in your life are like... Dustin and Robin and I doubt they give a fuck whether or not you paint your nails," Eddie argues. Eddie is on the list of substantial people in his life, but Steve doesn't say that. He grabs one of Eddie's hands and traces the veins; he can feel the tendons flexing. He can feel the calluses from Eddie's guitar strings.

"I don't know Eds. Maybe I'll be able to... eventually. I can't here. Not in Hawkins."

"Then why don't we leave?" Eddie suggests, watching as Steve fiddles with one of his rings.

The 'we' isn't lost on Steve. His stomach does a flip when he hears the word we. He can't tell if it's the high, but he half wants to suggest they get up and leave right then. "I can't Eddie. You don't know just how much I want to," he cringes at the wet emotion in his voice. "Not until the kids are through high school. Not til Dustin is off to college. I can't leave them, Eddie. Even if the upside down is gone and there's no danger, I can't leave them in this town full of stupid fucking hicks. I don't want what happened to you to happen to Mike and Dustin and Lucas. I don't want them to be the town pariahs."

Eddie doesn't say anything for a moment and Steve is worried he dumped too much on the boy at one time. "There's an apartment I was looking at: it's a town over. It's only twenty minutes away. But I can't afford it without a roommate," Eddie stops and Steve hears him inhale sharply. "Do you maybe want to— to go take a look at it with me? Tomorrow?"

"I'd love to, Eds."

"O—ok. Good. Uh... I can pick you up around one?" Eddie offers.

"It might be easier if you just stayed the night. I mean— wouldn't want you driving home high anyhow."

"Please Harrington; I've done much more difficult tasks high," Eddie smirks down at him. "But that's cool; if you want me in your bed that bad."

"Don't make it weird, Eddie," Steve scolds despite the red tint creeping up his face.

"You should know before we start home shopping together: I am weird, baby. And you're gonna have to live with it," Eddie ruffles his hair. Steve doesn't think that sounds too bad. "Have you ever been high before, Stevo?"

"Once or twice with Tommy H. I didn't like getting high with him, he always wanted to do stupid shit," Steve recalls, remembering the time Tommy ate four jars of pickles.

"Robin told me something about Russians—"

"What? Ok man that doesn't count that was against our will and I mean— sure, it's one of the reasons Robin and I are so close and I don't regret a second of it but..." Steve cringes at the memory. "Ugh, what did she tell you? That was embarrassing! I said some stupid shit while we were unsupervised."

"She told me that you told her what you use in your hair," Eddie says and Steve's eyes widen. He'll be talking to Robin about what is and isn't up for discussion with Eddie. "But y'know what they say: nobody gets you high like a Russian spy."

Eddie laughs and Steve can't help but laugh with him. "How long have you been saving that one?"

"Two weeks," Eddie cackles, head hitting the back of the couch. He wraps his arms around Steve and falls to his side. Steve lets out a squeak, causing Eddie to laugh even harder. Eddie tries to tickle him, only succeeding halfway, before Steve flips them. He's on his knees, one on each side of Eddie and he's sitting on the boy's stomach. He pauses, looking down at the almost angelic boy below him. There's a small smile on his face and his soft hair forms a pillow below his head. Eddie's deep, brown eyes stare up at him and Steve's breath catches in his throat. Steve reaches his hand to stroke the side of Eddie's face with his thumb, the other knotting itself in his mess of hair. Eddie's hair is as soft as it looks, if not more. Eddie places his hand over Steve's on his face and then they're leaning closer, noses almost touching. Steve feels his eyes flit closed as Eddie's lips ghost over his.

"Hey, shitbirds! Dustin can't find his radio and—" The intimate moment is interrupted by Mike Wheeler throwing open Steve's door and barging in. He's followed closely by Dustin, Lucas, Max, Erica, Nancy, and Robin (who must've driven). "HOLY SHIT!" Mike screams as Steve leaps off of Eddie. Eddie sits up at the same time and their heads bump.

"Shit, Wheeler!" He hisses, rubbing his temple where their heads had connected.

"Were you guys—" Dustin begins, eyes wide.

"You left your radio at Family Video, Dustin. I told you that two hours ago and I told you to come pick it up tomorrow," Steve huffs in annoyance. The rest of the group sighs and rolls their eyes as Dustin mutters an 'oh, right'.

"Since you're all here, want to watch Psycho?" Steve offers, attempting to change the subject even further and knowing that any effort to make the group leave would be futile. The offer is well received and in a moment they're all settling down in front of the tv.

"Why does it smell like a skunk died in here?" 

a/n: If you guys like this I might do a part 2.