WHAT. Eddie lost a bet after coming in behind Steve at the Vallo race, he pays up. WHERE. Fox Way! WHEN.A little time after the race! WARNINGS. None really aside from a little gay panic. STATUS. Complete!
This could have been humiliating. At least some of the outfit that Steve had picked out had been chosen for the embarrassment factor. Not in a malicious way, no. If Steve had tried to get him in this outfit when they were in school, Eddie probably would’ve tried to fight him. But their relationship had changed enough that Eddie could see the humour in it, and he was going to make it work.
He's substituted the tasseled crop top with a cut off Metallica shirt, because he had just enough dignity to say that no, there was no way he was wearing a crop top with tassels. But the cut off jean shorts, the cowboy boots, the cowboy hat. Well, Eddie might scowl at them, but he'd suck it up for the sake of the bet. He tied his hair back into a low, loose ponytail, shoved the hat low on his head, and with a bucket and a rag, made his way outside.
“Well Harrington, is it all you’d dreamed it would be?” Eddie asked, shooting him a wink and striking a vaguely silly pose – hip out to the side, bucket of soapy water balanced on top of it.
As if on cue, Steve popped out his folding chair and set down a six pack of beer with the perfect view point of Eddie washing his car. It should’ve felt a little weird, making an audience of this, but if he was going to win this bet of all bets, Steve was going to have a little fun with it.
He had a music player in his other hand as he sat down, grinning like a madman. “It’ll do.” God, that smugness probably wasn’t going to die away anytime soon. He was riding the high of his placement as far as he could take it, with how close he’d come to placing top five. Just one second behind that sleek fancy race car ahead of him, his BMW had performed like a champ.
And now it deserved to be lovingly rubbed with soapy water by a ridiculously dressed Eddie Munson. “Wait. You know what this needs? Music.”
Steve Harrington could’ve picked anything in the world, and he was tempted to go with Taylor Swift just to fuck with Eddie, but he also knew he’d already thrown salt in that wound by Robin throwing some of his CDs out the window. He hit play on the little portable speaker at the same time as he opened a beer. The music was quiet to begin, practically tame. I don't know where I'm going- Steve lounged. “Starts slow to give you a little warm up, Munson.”
Eddie rose his eyebrows as the music started. Whitesnake? Really? He debated saying something along the lines of glam metal not being the same thing as actual metal, but he bit his tongue: He was happy to assume that Steve threw it on as some sort of olive branch to Eddie, and besides, Whitesnake wasn’t too bad all things said and done. He wasn’t going to go out and buy Slide It In any time soon, but he wouldn’t turn off the radio if they came on.
And so he started soaping up the car, starting first on the far side of the car from Steve, working slowly with long, languid strokes, right up until the drumbeat kicked in. At which point he attempted a sexy (it was not, at all, both because he was aiming more for ridiculous than sensual, and also because he wasn’t what most people would call graceful) roll over the hood of the car to Steve’s side. He managed to land on his feet, which really, he was pretty impressed with, and dropped into lunge.
“Here I go, again on my own,” Eddie sang, badly, scrubbing the car in time with his exaggerated headbanging.
Steve choked on his beer. It wasn’t obvious, and he recovered, but he’d been interrupted mid-gulp with that car hood roll and now Eddie was at least partially covered in water, and Steve was trying not to stare in a way that made him feel-- creepy.
Was it even creepy? God, who even fucking knew. He wasn’t the lecherous type, but those damn shorts were showing a lot more than Steve had seen of Eddie and he was-- his brain was being dumb. Overthinking, overworking. Fantasizing about things he had no right to fantasize about.
Steve had to compensate somehow.
He did it with an annoyed tone and petulant frown as he pointed his beer in Eddie’s direction. “Hey hey hey-- watch the hood there, pal. I’m expecting a prime car wash here, not adding more damage to that baby. Delicate hands, Munson.”
If Eddie couldn’t seduce Steve Harrington, then annoying him really was the next best thing. He shot Steve a grin. “Aw, you don’t need to worry, Harrington. I’ll treat her right. My hands are very delicate.”
Steve snorted and slouched down in his chair just a few more inches. “I’ll believe that when I see it.” He put in more effort trying to look lazy than was probably believable, but whatever, he could also pretend he didn’t care how he looked.
Even though he reached up to run a hand through his hair. But that was just cause it was getting in his eyes, no other reason. “How much in the way of repairs do you have to do on the van? You’re sure it’s not just gong to fall apart in a stiff wind?”
“I would be happy to demonstrate,” Eddie assured him, reaching for a lock of hair to cover his face with, only to remember belatedly that he’d tied it all back already. He let that hang there for a moment, before he added “With my guitar,” and turned back toward the car.
“SteVan Halen isn’t in such rough shape though. He got a little banged up in the city, but it’s nothing I can’t fix on my own.” Maybe he’d have to go into a garage for some of the body work, but he imagined there was probably garages you could rent out here in Vallo. “It’ll take more than a stiff wind to take him out, don’t you worry.”
Steve flushed slightly, but thankfully Eddie had turned back before the worst of it. It was dumb. It was so dumb. He was used to feeling like an idiot when it came to Nancy, god only knew he’d done some dumb things around her. And other people he’d dated casually. But back when Steve was still in the crush stage, he had been more bold and brash and confident in himself.
This, a guy, Eddie Munson, was a whole different ballpark. Steve had never been shy a day in his damn life and now he wanted to sink into the chair cause he was overly charmed by the punk rocker washing his car.
“Well,” Steve nursed his beer like it was a lifeline at this point. “If it can survive Hawkins and the cool race from hell, you can probably be confident that it can handle anything? I, meanwhile, need a new lug wrench, crowbar, flashlight, backpack….” He grinned fondly, not that mad about his shit being thrown out the window. “Robin went overboard.”
Eddie laughed, shooting Steve a grin over he shoulder. “Well, you can’t say that it didn’t do the trick. Got rid of some dinead weight and distracted the other drivers. You were this close,” he held his fingers about an inch apart, “from placing.”
Eddie had ended up nearly dead in the middle of the pack, which was worse than he’d hoped, but better than he’d expected. “You and Robin make a pretty good team.”
“It was pretty satisfying to see that tire iron hit Hopper’s SUV. Pretty sure we made it so he didn’t get second.” He would’ve felt bad if not for the fact that Hopper beat their asses and had been pretty smug about it.
So Steve was smug in return, and overly unapologetic. He set his beer between his thighs and leaned back in the chair and stacked his hands behind his head. “We did pretty fucking good, didn’t we?”
“Hey, if he was going to beat you anyway, you might as well have let him get second. Bet we could’ve talked him into getting us a hot tub with all that extra prize money.” He turned to shoot Steve a grin, and then had to turn quickly away before Steve could read all his dirty thoughts on his face. This was going to be a very clean car.
When he turned back to Steve, he was prepared for the sight. “Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything after all. I don’t know if even your hair can hold much more ego.”
“Take your complaints up with Robin, she’s ruthless.” Steve was proud of how ruthless she was, no doubt about that. Maybe occasionally felt bad about it but was still proud.
He was also oblivious to Eddie’s dirty thoughts. It was almost funny, given that Steve had cultivated his look for girls to appreciate him when he moved a certain way. It would’ve made his stomach tighten for some unknown reason if he’d known Eddie had fallen into that trap, but it stupidly didn’t even occur to him.
It didn’t stop him from letting his eyes roam a little when Eddie turned away from him. It was risky, but Steve was reckless and kind of dumb. It was especially risky when his eyes dipped down even further just as Eddie was turning again.
Steve flushed and over-corrected and nearly knocked his beer bottle down to the ground but caught it in the last minute. “It’s-- whatever. My ego’s fine. Hair’s even better.”
For a minute, Eddie was almost convinced Steve had been checking out his ass. The thought passed quickly though. Despite the fact that Steve was questioning, Eddie was pretty sure he was straight. Curious, yes, questioning, maybe, but who wouldn’t question their sexuality if they’d come from a place like Hawkins and were suddenly dumped into a place where almost everyone seemed to be openly some shade of queer? Steve had never come to talk to him about it, so until he saw actual evidence to the contrary – not just confused, anonymous google searches – Eddie was going to err on the side of caution.
So, confident that Steve had not been checking out his ass, Eddie grinned. “Like what you see?” he asked, giving said ass a little wiggle.
Holy fuck. Shit. Goddamnit.
Yeah. That was going to be a problem. A big problem. A big closeted, confused problem as Steve still didn’t know what the fuck to do with himself, and goddamn was it embarrassing to be having a queer awkening with Eddie-fucking-Munson of all people. Steve was probably red right now, and having to play it off like he was completely unphased.
“Shut the fuck up,” Steve reached down and snagged the first thing he could, which was an extra unopened beer can. He threw it at Eddie as a distraction. “Finish your damn job, Munson so we can go get some pizza.” Throwing a beer at him probably wasn’t the way to get it done faster, but it was all Steve had.
Eddie stared, bewildered enough that when Steve threw the can at him, it bounced off his chest before he had the sense to try to catch it. Because that – well, there was no other way to interpret that than the fact that Steve had been looking at his ass and was embarrassed to have been caught.
He cracked open the beer without thinking, and then yelled when the beer sprayed up into his face.
That shook Steve out of his embarrassment. He barked out a laugh and stacked his hands back up behind his head. “Good thing you’ve got the sprayer right there.” He reached over and flicked the button on the music player and fired up the next song on the list.
Another One Bites The Dust was maybe a little too fitting for the pink lingering in Steve’s cheeks.
Eddie scowled and then downed the rest of the can of beer, giving Steve the middle finger salute while he finished it off, and then tossed it back at Steve, if only to make him stop with that pose.