Steve refuses to put on glasses to read the instructions on box mac & cheese. Eddie and Steve discuss dating. Eddie is pretty much a pure
chaos being.
⚠None.
“I’m not saying I think it’s lame or anything,” Steve tried to clarify. Unprompted and unasked, he had decided that what Eddie wanted to hear was his gentle putting down of Dungeons and Dragons. “I’m just saying that if you want me to play a game, I kinda expect that there would be some physicality to it. I mean, if I want to attack something and the dice don't cooperate, then I just don’t. That isn’t skill… it’s just…”
He should probably have shut up some time ago, but his decision was to dig in. And dig deep. Eddie seemed to be permitting it, but that was a mystery Steve Harrington couldn’t solve right now. “Luck. What if I roll one every turn?”
This was all occurring over the mac and cheese that Steve was attempting to assemble. The box had directions, but he’d been stubbornly trying to hold it at arm’s length to read rather than just putting on the glasses that Derleth had seen fit to curse him with. Those glasses were shoved in the pocket of a jacket he snagged from the community supply. Neither the glasses nor the jacket were his style, and that just made him feel more agitated. Maybe he could just eyeball what seemed like enough butter and milk in this. It was made from a box, so there were limits on how good it was going to turn out.
“Hey, it’s just milk and butter you add, right? I didn’t actually pay attention in Home Ec.”
Eddie was, as Dustin would say, really revved up today. Only Eddie had been revved up every day this week. He had a mostly subconscious inkling of being prone to bouts of mania, but this week had, for some reason been rougher than others.
Maybe it was the pointed ears, hidden under his bandana. Only that couldn’t have been it. Not all of it. They were just symptoms to whatever it was going on with him. His arms crossed over his stomach, Eddie did his best to stay still as Steve spoke, but internally he felt like he was vibrating.
Still, Steve was a friend he hadn’t quite had before in his life. It wasn’t like the members of Hellfire Club who tended to be drawn to Eddie’s bombastic personality and were glad to be shepherded by an enthusiastic dungeon master.
Spending time with Steve was like… seeing what it was like to hang out with a fellow shepherd. Someone who was his equal. Someone who, Eddie found himself wanting to impress.
“I’d say something was wrong with your dice,” Eddie said.
He could no longer hold it in, completely forgetting Steve’s very reasonable mac and cheese question. Maybe he should have suggested Steve put the glasses back on, but as long as the topic of his short hair from last week, or pointed ears from this week remained unspoken, he felt as if he owed the other man the same courtesy.
Instead he leapt onto his feet, then onto the counter, pacing the length of it wildly like a caged animal. “You played sports. Tell me, Steve: what if you were on a bad team that lost every game? Would the game no longer be worth playing? Or would you maybe try something different to win? That is the beauty of Dungeons and Dragons. So what if the dice are against you. So what if the world is against you! All you need is your friends and your ability to imagine your way to another solution.”
Eddie tapped his temple emphatically at the word imagination to make his point.
Because as Dustin would say, he was really revved up.
Steve didn’t need glasses to bear witness to the events of Eddie’s… emphatic deliverance. Being planted on the actual ground, it made him have to lean back to look up. He pulled a face. It was a face of someone who was trying to chew on the logic offered. His mouth was a slanted line of uncertainty because as far as he could tell, the dice part of it was still dumb luck. If you airballed in basketball, that wasn’t dumb luck. You just sucked. And you worked to get better.
But he tried to recenter himself on Eddie’s logic because it clearly made sense to Eddie.
“If I was on a bad team that lost every game, I would expect extra practice until everyone figured out how to stop losing. Or someone gets benched for being terrible. Alright, alright I’ll give you that there’s strategy. I am just saying that if you tell me I have to roll to climb a rope and I fail, then what the hell?” He reached out and smacked Eddie’s shin. “And stop pacing up there. If you’re feeling twitchy, I don’t know. Do some push-ups. That’s what I do.”
Steve reached for the milk. This was going to be experimental in the end, wasn’t it?
Eddie leapt down from the counter with a loud smack of his reeboks on the industrial kitchen flooring, about a foot from Steve in nearly as dramatic fashion as he had jumped up.
“So you’re saying,” he started, in a volume that wasn’t 100% appropriate for just the two of them over Mac and Cheese, “that you would work to gain more experience and level up in order to take on stronger opponents.”
Eddie looked a little too triumphant at the connection. For someone who claimed to hate sports— it was more like the hero worship and culture around sports that he’d always detested— he really tried hard for Steve’s sake to make those sports and athletics connections in order to find common ground.
While he watched Steve with mild interest try to figure out the Mac and Cheese, he still didn’t offer any real help in making it. It was Mac and Cheese? How hard could it be?
“Since when does Steve Harrington get twitchy?” he added. His face made a grin, like he was thinking of a dirty punchline that he wasn’t saying, as he watched Steve’s face for the answer with a much stronger interest.
At Eddie’s landing, Steve merely gave him a sidelong look. He shrugged and started doling out some of the milk into the drained pasta. Maybe the butter was supposed to go first? Ah, shit.
“Sure, call it that. The brain is a muscle, so trying to think your way out of stuff makes… your brain stronger. Put some points in… whatever. Level up. Still think the rope thing is bullshit,” he replied, even-toned, as he waved the spoon that had been stirring milk into pasta. A clump of butter was dumped into the pot. It didn’t really melt. Aaaah, shit. He moved the pot back to the stove to put the heat back on it. Something had to work here.
Steve connected a look with Eddie, only to find the other man grinning something borderline impish. There was a faint sigh. “I get twitchy when it’s been weeks without a date. You know, I don’t buy that resetting physically every week takes the edge off. This place is a dry spell I never asked for. Where did the cheese go? It was here a second ago.”
Eddie stepped in real close into Steve’s personal space. If anything, the expression on his face only got worse. As if Steve had given him a dare and Eddie was all too happy to comply. His hand slapped down on the white powdered cheese packet for dramatic effect before holding it up for Steve.
“Literally in front of your face, dude.”
He continued to hold it there for Steve’s benefit until the other man took it.
“So,” he added with a pause for dramatic effect. “...are you, Steve Harrington, saying we need to find you a date?”
Not that there were a lot of options for them here. Most people seemed a few years too young or a few years too old. Too young was a no go, but…
“Some of the older women could be into that.”
If his smile could have reached his ears, he would have been doing his Cheshire Cat impression just then.
“Thanks,” Steve replied. He took the cheese packet and fumbled the heat to turn it off. The sizzle of milk and butter was telling that enough heat had been applied. He couldn’t see it because Eddie was occupying most of his view with a manic smile, but he could hear it. And he wasn’t a total dumb jock.
It was a real journey getting to know Eddie. Sure, he’d gotten the essence of Eddie in the time they spent trying to help him navigate his life as a fugitive of the law, but this was bridging the gap. Eddie, it seemed, was a man of many hats. Weed purveyor, resident expert on some nerd game, and actually not bad company when it came down to it. Somehow Steve found himself here with Eddie through no intervention. Maybe that frenetic energy Eddie gave off was actually magnetic in nature. Steve couldn’t account for why else they were here together.
Unless in the span of time since getting to Derleth, something like a friendship had taken hold.
It could be that.
Maybe.
“I, Steve Harrington, am saying that next time we hit civilization that I’m going to find myself some company. You should, too. Look, there might be ladies around here -- but if that goes south, then what? You have to avoid them around this small campus. Not a great plan, man. Put that in my…” Steve gestured, clearly fishing for whatever the term was. “Whatever you call it. That’s strategy right there. Level me up.”
At that point Eddie should have stepped back and given Steve his space. Instead, he’d gotten comfortable right where he was. The need to pace and move and run around seemed to have stabilized right there as Eddie’s eyes bore into him.
“Steve Harrington, just leaving a trail of broken hearts, huh?” Eddie turned his gaze to the pot of mac and cheese. It looked like mac and cheese and he just barely resisted the urge to stick his finger in the pot like a barbarian to taste test the cheese sauce.
“Except you might have made one fatal miscalculation…”
It was easier to hide whatever was going on with him on the network. No one directly had gotten his excess energy full blast except for maybe the princess on her network post. For the most part, he was really trying his hardest to behave.
But now, with a golden opportunity in front of him, he really couldn’t help himself try to egg Steve on.
“...What if we don’t end up in civilization next week. How long is Steve Harrington prepared to hold out? Hm? How long have you held out already? Are you really worried about a falling out or just afraid of a little rejection this week?”
In lieu of cable tv, not that Eddie’s family could ever afford it, challenging Steve to a dare seemed like the way more entertaining option this week.
Eddie being this close just made his features fall out of focus. Inverse to whatever the motive was, all Steve was getting was a wide grin in all its fuzzy glory. He blinked, and finally put a hand on Eddie’s shoulder to nudge him a little further back for the sake of his vision. He gave it a second pat before letting his hand drop.
“Exactly when did this become about when I last had sex and when I’ll have it next?” It was a fair question, Steve thought. He sidestepped the chaos being in front of him and searched out bowls. One cabinet was opened. Not here. Another was opened. Not there. He continued with a rhythmic opening and closing as his search carried on.
“It’s been a bit, alright? Closest to anything was that point where…” He stopped, then plowed on. What was the point in dodging it? “Apparently I got to climb inside the mind of Steve Harrington that thought Eddie Munson had bad girl appeal. And you know what? I hope it worked out for him.”
Finally. Two bowls were snagged out of one of the cabinets. Eddie didn’t ask for one, but who in their right mind refused mac and cheese?
“I’m not worried about rejection. I’m worried about the opposite thing,” Steve continued. He pushed a bowl into Eddie’s hands and let Eddie decide what to do about that.
Eddie stepped back without resistance when pressed, and took the bowl of mac and cheese without complaint or thanks.
“Steve Harrington,” Eddie said in mock offense, “are you calling me easy?” Eddie held the bowl in one hand, while the other clutched over his heart in a gesture of dramatic scandal, mouth open in his best offended Nancy prim girl impression.
Nevermind that Eddie had agreed to an overnight camping trip in the middle of nowhere on her first date.
“You’re saying I’m slutty,” he continued. He nodded as if he were taking this all in hurt stride, barely hiding the smile on his face. Miss an opportunity to tease Steve? Not in his life. Not because that was their thing exactly. He just felt a certain level of comfort.
As friends.
This totally wasn’t flirting.
Because this was Steve, after all.
“I see how it is.” Eddie looked around in a few drawers for forks until he found one, putting on a heavy sigh for show. He held out a fork for Steve until he took one, before turning around, not waiting to sit somewhere like a civilized man, and dug his fork in. “...Just another notch on your belt.”
Eddie shoveled a large bite of Steve’s mac and cheese into face. The sauce, for all of Steve’s worry, tasted fine. It was designed to be impossible to mess up.
But they probably should have set a timer on the boiling noodles as Eddie took a few slightly crunchy bites without commentary. It was fine. It still tasted just as good.
“How?” Was the immediate question on Steve’s mind, and so it was the first thing asked. “How does that add up to any of that?”
He took his own bowl of mac and cheese and took a first bite. Crunch. The texture wasn’t right, which made him stop to contemplate where it went wrong, but then he continued to eat it. It was good enough.
“Besides…” His voice was a little more serious for a moment. “No one deserves getting painted out to be a slut for stuff like that. Yeah, I know -- it’s the joke. It’s just kinda crap, you know? High school pins those titles on people. Usually they’re the ones worth knowing.”
Crunch.
“Pretty sure this pasta isn’t cooked.”
Eddie couldn’t help the smile that formed on his face as he continued to shovel crunchy noodles into his mouth. It was a mix of amusement and feeling genuinely touched.
“Aw,” he said, barely finishing the food in his mouth before he spoke. “Now you’re defending my honor.”
For Eddie, it was easier to pretend he didn’t care about the titles that had been pinned on him. “The Freak” had more or less become his middle name around Hawkins. Worse now after everything that had happened. Eddie did his best to fashion it into a sort of badge of honor, but one that still stung on occasion.
He took a few more bites of dinner. Or maybe this was the pre-dinner snack. Eddie was sort of a bottomless pit of questionable food. “It’s cooked. It’s hot.”
Crunch, crunch, crunch.
There wasn’t much of a reply to Eddie’s plausibly jestful acceptance of a Harrington White Knight special. Steve gave him a shrug and a mouth tugged up at one corner as if it meant to say: that’s my story and I’m sticking to it.
“It’s crunchy,” Steve supplied. He looked at his bowl and considered that maybe this was a lesson learned. There was a moment of resignation while he fished the glasses out of his pocket and popped them on to read the side of the box. Definitely got the cooking time wrong. He put the box back down and left the glasses perched on his face as he let a few seconds lapse in quiet.
“You know, I bet Keyleth would have been into those ears if she was still around.”
At the mention of Keyleth, Eddie’s expression soured slightly. Not because he was particularly bummed that it didn’t work out, it had been better for their friends to go as a group to the ball anyway. He couldn’t put his finger on it.
He took a few more bites and ate thoughtfully, mostly to postpone having to respond.
“Look, man. I appreciate it, but I’m pretty sure she was a little bit out of my league.” Eddie held up his finger to gesture just a little bit. “Like that much.”
When he finished the bowl of cheap pasta, Eddie realized he felt hungrier than before he’d eaten. He glanced around the kitchen for something easy to eat, but Steve had nailed what was the easiest food stuff to prepare.
“We’re just here for like a few months, right?” Eddie shrugged. “Then we have way bigger problems to worry about.”
“Half the people here have super powers. We’re always gonna be out of their league,” Steve replied around a mouthful of al dente noodles. It was meant to be placating. Steve wasn’t sure if it landed that way. They were just two average guys with below-average high school grades. On paper, they probably both would get glossed over by plenty of women. If dating here was even a smart move, which (Steve reminded himself) he was squarely sure it wasn’t.
What a mess.
What was he even trying to do here?
He reached out and gave Eddie a one-arm squeeze. It was meant to be comforting in that ‘you got this, bro’ way.
“Don’t start counting that down. Could be here longer, dude.” He resolved the sling with a shoulder clap before tackling the last of his mac and cheese. Between two adult-sized men, it barely stood a chance.
Eddie put on a smile for show, but it was obviously that. Bombastic and a little bit bitter in the way his smile didn’t quite meet it eyes. “Since when have we been that lucky?”
Which might have been a surprising take from Eddie. Things had not exactly been a cakewalk at Derleth; zombies, fairies, oh my. But what did he have to look forward to back home, really? Vecna? Jail time? High school?
Here no one really looked twice at Eddie for his clothing, his taste in music or his love of D&D. Stranger than that, people almost seemed to like him for it. Which might have been yet another reason he sometimes kept to the company of Robin, Steve and the others over their fellow captives. He didn’t trust their acceptance. He didn’t trust it to last. It had to be a trick, right?
But the smile became a little more natural when he felt Steve’s hand on his arm.
Yeah, Steve was a pretty solid dude.
Maybe his eyes lingered on his friend just a second too long, but Eddie snapped himself out of it, “Are you still hungry? I should probably figure out how to cook shit if we’re going to be here longer.”
Eddie hardly knew how bad his luck was, but that was something that Steve kept locked up tight. More and more it seemed like telling him wasn’t just a bad idea, but the worst idea. There wasn’t much to say to the question, and maybe Eddie wasn’t looking for an answer after all. When had they been that lucky? They hadn’t. Not really.
And that inner turmoil was enough to miss Eddie’s slightly-too-long stare. By the time Steve tracked the new path of the conversation, he could only raise his hands.
“I could still eat.” Steve turned to give the kitchen a quick once-over. He’d arrived at the conclusion of making mac and cheese because it was easy. If Eddie was thinking anything more complicated, then godspeed to him on that. “If you make something edible,” he added, just to be on the safe side.
“I make no guarantees!” Eddie announced gleefully (and loudly). Accepting the challenge, Eddie left his dirty dishes behind to search the kitchen for what it had to offer. Derleth reset in a few days, did they really need to clean up after themselves?
Nah.
Had they been born a decade or two later, Eddie might have looked like a contestant on any number of cooking competition shows. Instead he just looked like the kind of walking nightmare responsible for so many teacher’s headaches.
At least he had something to do.
It probably wouldn’t be too destructive.
Probably.
At first, his apparent gleeful mania didn’t seem to amount to much. Bread. Peanut butter. Jelly. That is until Eddie pulled out an industrial box of pancake mix and started up one of the giant deep fryers.
He had no idea if this would work. He was pretty sure he might start a fire.