"Stevie, baby, I need my pick," Eddie said, guitar hanging over his torso, hair half pulled up in a ponytail, looking effortlessly pretty despite the humidity clinging to the air tonight. Steve pulled the chain up from around his neck and unclipped it to slide the pick off.
"Have a good show," he said, handing it off to Eddie with an encouraging smile. Eddie hooked his finger into Steve's belt loop and pulled him in until his stomach was pressed against his guitar, catching his lips in a kiss. Steve cupped Eddie's jaw, fingers brushing his hair, which was already a little damp with sweat. It would be drenched by the time he's done playing his show.
The garage they had set up to look like a decent venue was a part of a cabin, too far away from any other houses to garner complaints, but not so far away that you couldn't find the highway if you got lost in the woods. It belonged to Adam Fry, an older guy who Eddie met at one show or another. Steve knew he had a knack for business though, with a $3 entry fee and the kitchen rigged up like a concession stand, he'd be making decent money by the end of the night. A good percentage of which would go to Eddie and his band, a percentage that Steve and his own knack for business argued with him about until it was actually fair.
Adam supplied the cabin and took care of the money, but he let everyone else kind of roam free. Steve was a planner, and a worrier, so he had pairs of people posted at each corner, with flashlights and whistles who wouldn't let anyone into the woods. Eddie had teased him for it, but Steve kept saying he wouldn't be responsible for a murder.
"Kiss for good luck?" Eddie asked once they pulled away, holding his pick up. Steve leaned forward and kissed Eddie's pick, kissing his lips once more afterward just to seal the deal. Eddie was slow to release Steve's belt loop, grinning softly at him. "You gonna get a nice front row seat?" He asked.
"Are you going to serenade me?" Steve tilted his head.
"Always," his laugh lines deepened as he smiled, tugging Steve closer by the grip on his belt loop.
"Eddie, man, come on," Gareth called from the stage, causing a roar of applause behind them.
"Your audience awaits," Steve chuckled.
"You're the only audience I need, baby," he said, refusing to let go just yet.
"That was so sappy," Steve rolled his eyes, his stomach fluttering. "Go play, rockstar." He gently pushed until Eddie reluctantly let go, joining Gareth and Jeff on stage. Steve squeezed through the crowd to get to the front, watching Eddie smile with his mouth brushing the mic.
"Good evening, Hawkins. We are Corroded Coffin." A wave of screams and applause followed and Eddie smiled a little wider, looking effortless and ethereal. Steve stared up at him, the humidity and the anxiety melting away as soon as Eddie started strumming. He found himself in his music, slipping into someone who knows exactly who they are, exactly what their purpose in life is. It's raw passion and pure talent that Steve becomes enthralled by the longer he watches.
Hair dripping with sweat and buzzing with adrenaline, Eddie bounces between people, chatting with them like they've known each other their whole lives. Steve smiled absently as he glances at him every once in a while. He waits patiently, helping them pack up their gear, and clean up the garage of trash. He gets the money from Adam, counts it, and recounts it before splitting it up between Jeff, Gareth, and Eddie.
"Steve! Steve! Steve!" He yelled when Eddie grabbed his shoulders and spun him around to face a gray-haired man with a closed-mouthed smile and a charcoal gray suit. "This is Devon Marshal, tell him who you are, man," Eddie is smiling so wide it looks like it hurts.
"I'm Devon Marshal, I work for Park Records, we're interested in the band," the man introduced with an indulgent grin.
"Holy shit," Steve's smile drops into a downward pull of pure shock. "You're interested in signing them?"
"We are. Of course, there are a lot of conversations that need to happen before anyone signs anything, but I want to introduce myself and give Eddie my card," he said, holding out a thin, white business card. Eddie took it with great care, pressing it to his chest and staring at Steve like he was waiting for him to say that they were dreaming. Devon shakes both of their hands before excusing himself, and Eddie promptly loses his mind.
"A fucking record company is interested in us!" He screams into the night, showing the rest of the band the card.
"I can't fucking believe it. I mean, this is what we've always wanted and now it's right in front of us," Eddie whispers that night, fingers trailing along Steve's back. He shifts his head up against Eddie's chest, smiling softly.
"I'm so proud of you," he says for the hundredth time that night.
"I'm so happy that you were there for it. I mean, every song I've written after high school has been Steve-inspired in some way or another. I mean, Sex on Fire? Obviously our first single, and that is entirely Steve-inspired," he said.
"That is a good one," Steve smiled, tracing invisible patterns on Eddie's chest. "The world is not ready for you, Eddie Munson. Just don't go falling in love with any groupies," he teased.
"Are you kidding me? You think anyone will ever hold a candle to Steve Harrington?" He pushed Steve onto his back so he could dip his head down and kiss his neck. "I could never love another person the way I love you. It is utterly impossible," he whispered against his skin, breath warm. "None of this would be possible without you," he said as he guided Steve's legs around his waist, his hair falling around his face as he trailed kisses along his chest. "You and your blind faith in me is the only reason I haven't given up yet." He felt the vibrations of Steve's gasp as he pushed inside, eyebrows scrunching as Steve's legs tightened around his waist.
"It's not blind faith," Steve corrected, brushing Eddie's hair back with a shaky breath as they rocked together, pushing and pulling their pleasure. "You're an amazing musician, I have faith in that."
"God, you telling me I'm an amazing musician while I'm fucking you is doing wonders for my ego," he grinned.
"Shut up," Steve caught Eddie's lips in a kiss, clumsy and awkward with the way they were smiling. He wrapped his arms around Eddie's shoulders, burying his fingers in his hair and basking in the feeling of a perfect moment. Of this perfect moment, where nothing exists outside of their bed and the pleasure they've wrapped themselves in.
- 6 months later -
Steve's eyes open once the deadbolt engages, his heart stuttering for a second before he hears the telltale sound of Eddie's guitar case touching the ground. He sighs as he sits up, tilting his head until his neck pops.
"You know you don't have to wait up for me," Eddie sighed, toeing his boots off before walking to the couch where Steve was rubbing the sleep from his eyes. The cable box read 2:33, and Steve pouted down at where Eddie was kneeling in front of him.
"I can't help it," he said, reaching out to brush his fingers through Eddie's hair. Eddie tilted his head into the touch, his eyes slipping shut for a second. "What kept you out so late anyway?" He asked, even though he could smell the liquor on him.
"Celebratory drinks," Eddie admitted.
"What were you celebrating?" Steve asked, hand pausing at the end of Eddie's hair. Eddie stared at Steve's lap for a second, at the blanket that's usually draped over the back of the couch and the Hawkins Community College sweatshirt that's bunched from when he sat up. Then he looked up at Steve, his lips tight.
"Corroded coffin was invited to open for The Anarchists on tour," he said.
"Jesus Christ, Eddie, that's amazing!" Steve smiled.
"We'd have to leave this weekend," Eddie added quietly. Steve's excitement died down, his smile slipping.
"That's," he swallowed on a dry throat. "That's fast. That's only... only two days away," he whispered.
"Yeah," Eddie nodded, looking back down at Steve's lap. Steve's chest ached at the guilty look on Eddie's face, in a moment where he should be through the roof with excitement and anticipation, he's guilty. Steve pushed his own feelings aside and cups Eddie's face with a soft smile.
"Eddie, this is a good thing," he assured. "It's sudden and it's going to take some getting used to but we knew this day would come."
"I just didn't think about how long I would be gone. I mean, this tour is 8 months, how am I supposed to leave everyone for 8 months? I can't leave you for 8 months," he said, shoulders deflating.
"Do you know how fast time will fly when you're traveling and playing shows every night?" Steve blinks tears away, running his thumbs across Eddie's cheekbones in a soothing back and forth pattern. "Time will fly, baby, and you'll call me as often as you can and tell me how incredible life on tour is."
"Maybe you can come with me," Eddie whispered.
"I can't," Steve sighed. "One of us has to stay here for the rugrats, and I can't just take 8 months off of work." Eddie nodded, lowering his head into Steve's lap. Steve quickly wiped his tears away before burying his hands in Eddie's hair. "Just promise me you'll be careful, okay? I know sex, drugs, and rock 'n roll is the motto but you have someone at home and I will beat the shit out of you if you start doing drugs." Eddie laughed softly in his lap.
"You know I'm not one for conformity and peer pressure. Will you promise to send me nudey pictures when I miss you?" He picked his head up to pout.
"I'll take some before you leave and tape them to the inside of your guitar case," Steve promised, cupping Eddie's cheeks and leaning down for a kiss.
"Mm, you're so good to me," Eddie pushed him back onto the couch, shedding his jacket and pants before laying down beside him. He tugged the blankets up to their waists, wrapping his arms around Steve. He pressed a kiss to his forehead, sighing shakily against it. "I'm gonna miss you like crazy, pretty boy." Steve squeezed his eyes shut, trying his hardest not to cry as he tucked his face into Eddie's chest.
"I'm gonna miss you so much more," he whispered.