Strawberry Ice Cream [steddie]

Strawberry (Epilogue)

Three months later

Steve can't say his life is back to normal, (because what the fuck does that even mean anymore), but it's better, he thinks. Better than it's been in a long time.

Despite every insane turn his life has taken, he's happy—really happy—dating none other than Eddie Munson.

Steve and Eddie have been dating—not openly, but consistently, for nearly three months now. They've had movie dates in Eddie's trailer, dinner at Steve's house. Robin even goes out with them sometimes, so that they look less suspicious.

Steve doesn't care what other people think all that much anymore, but Hawkins isn't the safest place for people to find out he and Eddie are dating. And Eddie has enough to deal with as it is.

So Robin tags along to the movies or parties or wherever. She acts annoyed sometimes, (more like jealous, Steve thinks), but endlessly supportive anyway.

It's safe to say Steve was more than a little overwhelmed with his new relationship at first. He still gets anxious, paranoid about his dad even when he's not there, old thoughts coming back to haunt him. But he's also found so much relief. So much freedom in dating someone who isn't attached to his past, someone he isn't dating for arbitrary status.

Steve's dating Eddie because he really, really likes him. And Eddie likes him too. So although slow, it's good.

As much as Steve and Eddie's relationship has felt new and fragile at times, Steve and Robin's is far from it. You get drugged together and trauma dump in a dirty bathroom stall and you're bonded for life. They haven't separated since. Robin escapes her house sometimes to have sleepovers at Steve's, platonic with a capital P of course. The longer they've been friends, the more apparent it is how much they needed each other.

A strange but strong connection from the beginning, their friendship is an easy one. Which isn't something Steve's ever really experienced. And sure, sometimes Steve doesn't know what the hell Robin's talking about when she's ranting about school, and sometimes Robin rolls her eyes when Steve gushes over Eddie. But other times Steve swears they share a brain.

As for Steve himself, no, life isn't normal. But it's a new kind of good that he's come to appreciate. His house isn't as empty and neither is his heart, to be painfully poetic.

Eddie is obviously his first boyfriend, but he's also Steve's first balanced relationship. It feels like they're both investing the same amount, like they can really trust each other. Eddie's still a mystery in some ways, but he's unravelling with time, too. Steve finds himself wanting to memorize every detail.

And Eddie's the most affectionate person Steve's dated. Little gifts and poems and notes and songs that melt Steve into a puddle, surprise kisses and hugs and touches that fill his stomach with butterflies. And the nicknames, god, those haven't stopped either.

But honestly, Steve eats it up. He's always been the over-invested one. Too much, as one girl described him in ninth grade. So he held back, didn't let himself get serious with anyone only to face rejection. Which never worked out, anyway. So fuck that.

Steve's letting himself move on, finally. Robin calls it healing, which Steve thought was dramatic at first but secretly resonates with now. He wouldn't tell her that, though.

(She already knows.)

Because Steve's former place of work was destroyed by a flesh monster from hell, he and Robin had to find new jobs. Together, Robin insisted. Steve didn't protest.

"You put your mom down as a reference?" Robin asks as they get out of Steve's car.

"Yeah, why not? She's like, super well-respected," Steve says, shutting the door.