Steve's daily routine was one of monotonous regularity. He'd go for his morning jog, stopping off at the nearby Maplewood Diner to pick up coffee (French Roast for himself and a Colombian for Robin) and a bagel if he was feeling adventurous. He'd walk back to the apartment, drinking his nuclear-hot beverage, and check the mailbox for any letters before showering and heading out to work for a mind-numbing shift at the mall. He'd done the same thing almost every morning for six years and today was no different. Except today, when he checked the mailbox, he found a letter addressed to him that didn't look like a bill.
His stomach did a backflip as he recognized the chicken scratch handwriting as Eddie's. He tore open the envelope and found two tickets and VIP passes to Corroded Coffin's sold-out show at Indianapolis's Hoosier Dome. There was also a short note:
Hey Big Boy,
Your ride will pick you up at 4, the show starts at 7.
Bring an overnight bag.
Eddie
Steve turned the letter over hoping there would be more writing but found none. He ran up the last few steps to the apartment and showed the tickets to Robin, who admired them as if they would grant her and Steve access to Willy Wonka's chocolate factory.
"This is going to be epic," she said excitedly. "Nirvana is the supporting act, do you think we'll get to meet them backstage?"
"Probably," said Steve, handing Robin her coffee. "What should I wear? I've never been to a rock concert before."
"Are we hoping to make a good impression on Eddie?" she teased.
"Maybe," he admitted. "Any ideas?"
"I'd say head-to-toe black leather," she joked. "Whips and chains never go amiss."
"Hilarious," said Steve sarcastically.
"I'm only half-kidding," she laughed. "The crowd at rock concerts can get pretty wild. But on such short notice, a pair of black jeans and some sneakers will suffice, and a band tee is a must."
Even Steve, who was as rock and roll as a potted begonia, could manage that.
Saturday morning arrived and Steve went about his daily routine: jogging, coffee and a bagel, no mail today, and a shower. Usually, Robin would be puttering about the flat by the time he came back but this morning, there was no sign of her. He knocked on her bedroom door and popped his head inside the room.
"You alive in there?" he asked jokingly.
"Barely," she groaned.
Steve frowned and stepped into the room. Robin was still in bed and… well, there was no polite way of putting it, she looked awful. She was curled up on her side in the fetal position and she was sickly pale.
"Jesus," Steve muttered. "What happened to you?"
"I dunno," she mumbled. "I woke up feeling like this."
Steve pushed the damp hair away from Robin's face and pressed his palm against her forehead. "You're burning up."
"I'm fine," she croaked.
"You're not fine."
"I'm fine," she insisted. "I'll be fine. I just need a shower and a bunch of painkillers. I'll be well enough for the show tonight."
Steve shook his head. "I'm calling Vickie."
Vickie arrived a short time later with medicine, lots of snacks and a bunch of rentals from the video store. They helped Robin get comfortable on the sofa in front of the TV with her quilt and a box of tissues. Despite Robin's assurances that she would be well enough for the show, it was clear by the afternoon that she wasn't fit to leave the apartment, let alone drive to Indianapolis for a concert.
"This sucks," she groaned, resting her head against Vickie's shoulder. "I've been telling anyone who'll listen that I'm going to this show and now I'm going to miss it."
"There'll be other shows," Vickie commiserated, absent-mindedly stroking Robin's hair.
"But I want to go to this one," Robin pouted.
"Vickie's right," said Steve. "We can see them any time. Maybe Eddie will fly you out by private jet to one of his shows, hopefully somewhere with a beach nearby."
"You think?" said Robin hopefully.
Steve had been joking but didn't want to kick her while she was down. "Sure, why not?"
"What are you going to do with the spare ticket?" asked Vickie.
"Dunno. Mike and El already have tickets," said Steve. "I can't think of anyone else who can go on such short notice."
Vickie bit her lip. "Well, Lizzie said she'd be happy to take the spare ticket if nobody else could."
"No," said Steve firmly.
"Come on," Vickie pleaded. "She helped you out by attending Dustin's engagement party with you. It's only fair that you return the favor."
"She bailed on me at the first opportunity," he reminded her.
"You left early," Vickie shot back. "Please, Steve. I'll owe you one."
Steve sighed and crossed his arms. He'd rather go to the concert alone, but Vickie had him cornered.
"Fine," he grumbled. "She can come. But she better not hand out any business cards at the show."
Lizzie arrived at the apartment shortly before four with a small overnight bag slung over her shoulder, which Steve suspected was full of business cards.
"Thanks for inviting me, the girls in my class are so jealous," said Lizzie before punching the air. "Go Corroded Coffin!"
"Lizzie, you're going to a rock concert, not a football game," Vickie pointed out.
"I didn't know you were such a big fan of their music," said Robin.
Lizzie laughed and shook her head. "Oh, I don't listen to rock music. I've just never hung out with a famous person before."
"We went to school with Eddie," Steve reminded her.
"Yeah, but that was before he was famous!"
Steve rolled his eyes and headed to his bedroom to get changed. A few minutes later, Robin shouted that his ride had arrived. Steve exited his bedroom to find Robin with her nose pressed against the window and an envious expression on her face.
"That's twice I've missed out on riding a limo," she sighed.
"You're not missing much," Steve assured her.
"Just a fully stocked mini-bar, neon lights, a stereo system…"
Steve couldn't argue with any of that. He slung his carryall over his shoulder and ran a hand over his hair which was coiffed to perfection.
"How do I look?" he asked.
Robin tore her gaze away from the limo to look at Steve. "You're not seriously wearing that t-shirt to see Eddie's band, are you?"
Steve looked down at his Duran Duran t-shirt. "Yeah. Why, what's wrong with it?"
"You look great," Vickie cut in. "You better hurry or the driver will leave without you."
Steve didn't have time to change, so he wished Robin a speedy recovery and hurried downstairs to the limo. The driver, dressed in a classic long black suit, was already waiting for Steve and Lizzie when they exited the building.
"Good evening," said the driver. He opened the door and motioned for the pair to enter. "Your friends are already inside."
Steve and Lizzie climbed into the back of the limo where they were greeted by Mike and El. They were wearing similar outfits as Steve, except Mike wore a Ramones t-shirt and El wore one with The Clash emblazoned across the front. Steve was beginning to regret his choice of attire and was seriously considering wearing a sweater despite the heat.
"Your t-shirt is fine," El assured Steve. "Eddie would just think you were a kiss-ass if you wore anything else."
Steve relaxed a little and gave her a grateful smile. Most of the time El's mindreading powers were a nuisance, but occasionally, they came in handy. Mike put Corroded Coffin's album into the cassette player to get them 'geared up' for the show while Lizzie popped open a bottle of champagne and poured them all drinks. The drive to Indianapolis was surprisingly fun as they sang along to the music and ransacked the minibar. El particularly loved the sunroof; she popped her head out and laughed when the wind caused her hair to blow violently in all directions. She stood up, stretched out her arms and closed her eyes, a content smile on her face. Steve thought she looked like a bird that was about to soar into the sky. After a few moments, she opened her eyes and beckoned Steve to join her.
"Nah, I'm good," Steve declined. "I don't want to mess up my hair."
El nodded in understanding and asked Mike to join her instead. Mike didn't care about how his hair looked and happily joined his girlfriend. When they arrived at the Hoosier Dome, they drove past the crowds of wild-haired, denim and leather-clad fans lined up outside the entrance. Instead, they were taken to a quiet side entrance, where a frazzled-looking assistant was waiting for them.
"You're Eddie's friends, right?" she asked. She gave their VIP passes a cursory glance before scribbling something on the clipboard. "Don't worry about your luggage, the driver will take it to the hotel. Follow me, please."
The assistant marched them through backstage, which was abuzz with activity: techs were moving cases, and stage managers were running around shouting instructions. A couple of crew members ran around with guitars while Steve spotted others tinkering with light fixtures. It was chaotic but Steve drank it all in. The assistant ushered them into the green room where a buffet table had been set up with finger food and cold beverages.
"Here are your goodie bags," she said, thrusting a large canvas tote bag into Steve's hands. "Just make yourselves comfortable, I'll come back for you when the show is about to start."
And with that, the assistant hurried out of the green room leaving Steve, Lizzie, Mike and El to amuse themselves. El peered into her bag and removed a signed copy of Corroded Coffin's latest album. She looked nonplussed at the gifts until she spotted something at the bottom of the bag.
"Check it out," She grinned, holding up a box of animal-shaped gummies. "Bats."
Mike piled a mountain of food onto his plate and began stuffing his face. Lizzie checked her reflection in her compact while Steve sat on the plush leather sofa, his foot rapidly bouncing up and down with nerves. He shouldn't be nervous about seeing Eddie again, it wasn't like anything was going to happen. He'd told himself a hundred times already that was a bad idea. Still, Eddie had invited him to the show, maybe he was hoping something was going to happen between them too? There was a loud knock at the door and Eddie burst into the room, closely followed by his bandmates and fellow Hellfire Club members, Gareth, Jeff and Jason.
"How's it going, muchachos?" said Eddie breezily. He pulled Mike into a tight hug. "Thanks for coming tonight. It means a lot."
"Thanks for inviting us," said Mike. "The food's great, by the way."
Eddie chuckled. "I'll let catering know they have Mike Wheeler's seal of approval."
Steve couldn't tear his eyes from Eddie. He'd forgone his usual denim for leather pants and black biker boots. But what really had Steve's pulse racing was the sleeveless mesh top that Eddie was wearing and the way his dusty pink nipples protruded from them. Black eyeliner accentuated his big brown eyes and his hair was bigger and wilder than ever. He really looked like a bona fide rockstar and he was absolutely gorgeous. Eddie smiled at Steve and took a step towards him.
"Harrington," he said warmly. "Love the t-shirt."
"Oh," Steve tugged at the hem of his tee, suddenly self-conscious. "Thanks. I didn't know what else to wear."
"I think you look great," Eddie said quietly. He glanced over Steve's shoulder and suddenly his smile became forced. "Ah. I see you brought your girlfriend."
"What?" Steve turned to see Lizzie introducing herself to the other band members. "Oh! No, she's still not my girlfriend. Robin's sick and she didn't want the ticket going to waste, so…"
"So, you brought your date from Henderson's engagement party," Eddie nodded. "Makes sense. Well, maybe you'll have better luck tonight than last time. Bringing her here definitely won't hurt your chances."
Eddie winked at Steve but the smile didn't meet his eyes.
Steve frowned, unsure of what exactly he was insinuating. Before he could ask, the green room door opened again and one of the crew members entered. "Guys, Kurt and the boys are about to go on stage."
Eddie turned away from Steve and clapped his hands together. "Okay! Time for us to get our shit together. You guys enjoy the show and we'll catch up with you at the after-party."
Eddie and the other band members filed out of the room without another word. Lizzie was practically vibrating with excitement.
"There's going to be an after-party?" she asked. "Do you think anyone famous will be there?"
Steve was confused about what had just happened. He turned to Mike, who was shoving two miniature quiches into his mouth at once.
"Hey, did Eddie seem a bit off to you?"
Mike chewed his food for a few seconds before mumbling, "Nah, he looked alright to me. Maybe a bit nervous? They are about to perform for their home crowd."
"Yeah, maybe," said Steve, unconvinced.
Before Steve could ruminate any further on his and Eddie's brief exchange, the assistant with the clipboard reappeared and escorted them from the green room through the bustling backstage corridors towards the main stage. Steve knew they were getting close because he could hear the cheering crowd, and they were getting louder with each step. When they stepped out into the arena, Steve couldn't help but stare in amazement at the stadium packed with fifty thousand fans, all of them here to see Eddie. The assistant took him by the arm and steered him towards what looked like a small holding pen in front of the stage where he and the other VIPs would watch the show. You couldn't ask for a better seat in the house. The crowd suddenly grew louder as the band members of Nirvana walked onto the stage.
Kurt gave the fans a shy wave before slinging the guitar strap over his shoulder and playing a few chords as a warm-up. When he was ready, he played the first notes from the song Aneurysm and the crowd went wild. Kurt blew his long blond hair out of his face and began to sing in his trademark grizzly baritone voice.
"Come on over, and do the twist. Overdo it, and have a fit. Love you so much, it makes me sick. Come on over, and do the twist!"
Steve bopped his head along with the music. There was no denying that Nirvana was a great band, but they weren't the reason why thousands of fans had converged inside the stifling hot stadium on a late summer's evening. When Kurt and the others finished their set, they exited the stage to rapturous applause, but that was nothing compared to the deafening screams that welcomed Corroded Coffin onto the main stage.
A tsunami of fans jumped the barricade into the VIP pen and rushed forward, crushing Steve and the others into the steel barricade in front of them. He struggled to push back against the solid wall of bodies leaning into him and turned to see that Mike, El and Lizzie were in similar trouble. Just as Steve was beginning to worry that he'd get crushed under the weight of the crowd, there was a chorus of screams and the weight of bodies that had been threatening to overwhelm him moments before vanished. He turned to see a pile of dazed and confused but otherwise uninjured fans lying sprawled across the ground as though an invisible force had blasted them backwards. Steve looked at El who quickly wiped a trickle of blood from her nostril with the back of her hand. Steve gave her a thumbs up and she nodded. El's powers were certainly having their uses today.
When Eddie walked onto the stage, the sound from the crowd was deafening. He strutted to the center of the stage, his fists in the air as if he'd just won the title match at Madison Square Garden.
He grabbed the microphone stand and screamed, "What's up, Indianapolis?"
The crowd went wild. Eddie closed his eyes and seemed to relish the sound. When he opened his eyes again he beamed at his fans.
"Tonight is extra special because, as some of you know, the boys and I hail from a little whistle-stop town just a few short miles from here. You might have heard of it; it's called Hawkins… The Hellmouth of the Midwest!"
That was the cue for Jeff, the guitarist, to start playing the introduction to their aptly named number-one hit, The Hellmouth of the Midwest. The crowd roared as Eddie began to whip his hair back and forth in time with the fast-paced track, while his fingers danced across the guitar strings with such speed that they were almost a blur. The sheer volume blasting from the line array speakers made it feel like Steve's skin was vibrating. This wasn't the kind of song that you could bop your head along to and he felt out of sync with everyone else when he tried to headbang along with everyone else, so he just closed his eyes and let the music wash over him.
When the band finished their first track, the crowd cheered and applauded. Eddie waited for them to quiet down before speaking, "Is anyone from Hawkins here tonight?"
A surprising number of people cheered, including Lizzie, who screamed so loudly that it hurt Steve's ear. A crooked smile graced Eddie's face.
"That's great to have so many people from our hometown showing their support tonight," he said sweetly. "Considering how you treated me and my friends our entire lives, I'm surprised you had the balls to turn up."
Confused murmurs rippled through the crowd. Although it was common knowledge that Eddie and the band were from Hawkins, Eddie's checkered history with the town was less well known. After he became famous, the townspeople quickly changed their attitude towards the boy whom they had branded a freak and had accused of being a serial killer cult leader. Suddenly, he was celebrated as one of Hawkins's sons, a good boy from humble beginnings who was now the pride of his hometown. Eddie had laughed about it and had acted like it hadn't bothered him in the slightest. Evidently, it bothered him more than he had let on.
"I have a special message to the Hawkinites in the crowd," Eddie continued. "You know who you are: the ones who said we were wasting our time playing in dive bars because we'd always amount to nothing. The ones who called us freaks and losers and faggots. The ones who kicked our asses every day in the schoolyard just because we were different."
The crowd had gone completely silent but Eddie powered on. "The same ones who just bought tickets to see us perform tonight. I've got three words for you: KISS MY ASS!"
Eddie turned his back to the crowd, bent over and pulled his pants down to reveal his bare ass to tens of thousands of shocked and jubilant onlookers. The fans cheered and began to chant Eddie's name. After wiggling his ass a couple of times, he pulled up his pants and turned to face the crowd again.
"That concludes the nude portion of tonight's entertainment," he joked. Eddie strummed his guitar and smiled at the crowd, "This one is for all the freaks, faggots and fuck-ups in the audience tonight. We wouldn't be here tonight without your support."
Eddie began to play the first few chords of their song, Dead in the Head , to more cheers. He kept the chit-chat to a minimum for the rest of the show, but he had an undeniably electric stage presence; the fans swooned every time he flashed them a smile or winked at them like they were the only person he could see in a crowd of thousands. Steve couldn't help but stare at Eddie, transfixed by the way his dexterous fingers moved up and down the frets of his guitar with seamless grace. Not all of their songs were deafening headbangers; things took a somber turn when Eddie sang their soulful ballad, Carry Her Home From Memphis , prompting a sea of cigarette lighters to be held aloft by his fans, some moved to tears.
As their final song reached its crescendo, Steve gasped as an earth-shattering explosion drowned out the music and fireworks detonated across the stage. All heads turned skyward and an awe-filled hush swept over the crowd as gold flecks of light fell like burning snowflakes above their heads. It reminded Steve of the gray spores that drifted through the Upside Down, only they were less beautiful and a lot more dangerous than the little flecks of warm light that sparkled in the air above him. Before they were within reach, the lights fizzled out and vanished into nothingness. And with that, Eddie, Gareth, Jeff and Jason took several bows before exiting the stage, signaling the end of the best show Steve had ever seen.
After the show ended, Steve and his friends were ushered out of the venue straight into the back of their limousine. Everyone was buzzing, so the prospect of spending the rest of the night in Indianapolis's swankiest nightclub was a welcome one. There was already a long line of clubgoers standing outside the venue when they arrived. Steve was about to make his way to join the back of the line when one of the bouncers beckoned him and the others over.
"You here for the Corroded Coffin party?" he asked, his voice low and rough.
"Uh, yeah," said Steve, surprised.
The bouncer unhooked the velvet rope and stepped aside for them to enter, much to the chagrin of those still waiting to be permitted entry. The bouncer cocked an eyebrow at Steve.
"Are you going inside or would you rather stand out here in the cold?" he asked.
"Oh. No, we'll just head inside, thanks."
Steve, Mike, El and Lizzie hurried past the bouncer and entered the nightclub. Lizzie was chatting away in his ear but her words were quickly drowned out as the music inside the club grew louder, the deep bass of a rock song pulsing in his ears. As they entered the main hall, they saw Kurt and the other members of Nirvana sitting upstairs in the VIP section. Steve bypassed the dancefloor and headed upstairs to join them while Mike and El headed for the bar. Another bouncer stood at the bottom of the stairs with a clipboard. Steve had to shout in the man's ear to confirm who he and Lizzie were. The bouncer checked the list, nodded, and allowed them to pass. When Steve reached the VIP section, everyone turned to Steve and smiled.
"Hey, you're Eddie's friend, right?" asked the drummer who Steve remembered was called Dave.
"Yeah," Steve looked around for Eddie and the other members of Corroded Coffin but they weren't there. "Where is he?"
"He'll be here soon," Dave assured him, patting the empty seat beside him. "I'm Dave. This is Kurt, Krist and Pat."
Steve did as he was told and sat down. "Yeah, I know. I'm Steve."
"Nice to meet you, Steve," Dave replied brightly. "Do you drink, Steve?"
"Yeah."
Dave beamed at him. "Awesome! Then we're gonna get on like a house on fire."
Steve felt like he was having an out-of-body experience, sitting in a fancy nightclub doing shots of whisky with Nirvana. Things took an even more surreal turn when a few more guests arrived at the party. Steve recognized Courtney Love (she immediately planted herself on Kurt's lap). An impossibly tall drag queen who introduced themselves at RuPaul arrived soon after accompanied by a wild-haired guy called Buzz who said he played in a band called Melvins. It was a motley crew of weird and wonderful rockstars, but the one person that Steve wanted to talk to was nowhere to be seen.
Finally, after almost an hour of waiting, Eddie and the other band members arrived to greet their guests and friends. But they weren't alone. Walking up the stairs towards them was someone that Steve recognized instantly, not because he knew the man, but because Steve had a poster of him hanging over his bed through most of his teen years.
"Oh my god," Lizzie grabbed Steve's hand so tightly it was verging on painful. "Is that…?"
"Simon Le Bon," Steve squeaked.
Simon Le Bon, lead singer of Duran Duran, and currently sporting the most perfectly coiffed hair Steve had ever seen, was walking straight towards him.
"Sorry we're late," said Eddie. "We had to pick up Simon on the way over here."
Eddie steered Simon towards a starstruck Steve but he stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Lizzie's hand gripping his tightly. Steve pulled his hand from Lizzie's grasp but the damage was done.
"Eddie, you said that you wanted to introduce me to a friend of yours?" Simon prompted.
Eddie cleared his throat and nodded to Steve. "Simon, this is Steve Harrington. Steve, this is Simon."
Steve quickly stood up and said stupidly, "You're Simon Le Bon."
Simon smiled patiently at Steve. "I know. It's always a pleasure to meet one of Eddie's friends."
"Your hair," said Steve faintly. "It's like spun silk."
In hindsight, drinking several shots of whisky with Nirvana probably wasn't the brightest idea because Steve seemed to have no control over his tongue.
"Steve here has been a fan of your work for years," Eddie informed him before muttering, "And of your hair, apparently."
"Really?" Simon's eyes flitted down to Steve's Duran Duran t-shirt. "I never would have guessed."
Steve had the distinct impression that Simon was making fun of him. Thankfully, the nightclub was dark enough to hide the blush of embarrassment creeping up his cheeks. He was almost relieved when Lizzie stepped in front of him, thrust her hand out to Simon and plastered her winning smile across her face.
"Mr. Le Bon!" she simpered. "Lizzie Taylor, beauty consultant to the stars."
Simon took the proffered hand and shook it. "Please, call me Simon."
Lizzie leant forward and said in a stage whisper, "I hope you don't mind me saying, but your hair is gorgeous!"
Steve expected Simon to see right through the sales pitch. On the contrary, he looked flattered. "Thanks very much. Did you say you were a beauty consultant?"
"That's right!" Lizzie hooked hers and Simon's arms together and walked away from Steve and Eddie without bothering to excuse themselves. "I'm happy to give you advice on the best ways to keep your hair volumized and moisturized…"
Steve watched with growing bemusement as Lizzie and his teenhood hero made themselves comfortable in a far corner of the VIP section, their heads pressed together in a way that told Steve they weren't discussing a beauty consultation.
"Damn, she works fast, that one," Eddie quipped. "Tough luck, Harrington. You really can pick 'em."
"I already told you, she's not my girlfriend," Steve reminded him. "She can talk to whoever she likes."
"But you want her to be your girlfriend, right?" asked Eddie. There was a definite note of accusation in his voice. "Why else would you bring her here?"
"I was only doing her a favor."
"And you were hoping she'd do you one in return," Eddie sneered.
Steve glared at him. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"You know exactly what I mean," said Eddie. "King Steve's got a reputation to uphold. Don't worry, there are plenty of women on the dancefloor. Go shoot your shot with one of them, don't let me hold you back."
Eddie turned to leave but Steve grabbed his arm. "Hold up. You made all that fuss about me coming to your show and now you're not even going to talk to me?"
"What's there to talk about?" he shrugged. "You don't like my music, you don't like Dungeons and Dragons, you hate Lord of the Rings, we don't have anything to talk about."
"I don't hate your music," Steve argued. "I just spent the last two hours cheering you on!"
"So, you admit that you hate Lord of the Rings?" said Eddie triumphantly.
"Yeah, so what? You hate basketball, I'm not gonna bust your balls over it," Steve shook his head. "I don't understand what we're even arguing about right now."
"That's the problem right there," Eddie snapped. "You're so clueless, it drives me crazy!"
Steve was growing more confused and annoyed by the second. All he could think to say was, "I'm sorry?"
Eddie lolled his head back and groaned. "Don't apologize when you don't even know what you're apologizing for!"
"Then I don't know what you want from me!" Steve cried. "I don't know what I'm supposed to have done to piss you off!"
"You haven't done anything!"
"Then why are you acting like an asshole?" Steve shouted.
Everyone in the VIP section had gone quiet to watch their argument. Eddie looked like he wanted to scream in Steve's face, but instead, he clenched his jaw and shrugged.
"It doesn't matter," he mumbled, looking miserable. "Forget I said anything. Enjoy the rest of your night, Harrington. Drinks are on the house."
Eddie stormed off in the direction of the dancefloor and vanished amongst the throngs of dancers. He didn't stop to talk to any of his guests. Steve slunk over to the bar to get a drink and to put some distance between himself and the other guests who were all staring at him. He wasn't entirely sure what the hell had just happened but if Eddie didn't even have the guts to tell him what he was supposed to have done wrong, then that was his problem. Steve resolved to finish his drink and head back to the hotel. He wasn't in the party mood anymore. That's when El appeared by his side, looking sympathetic.
"Hey," she said gently.
"Hey yourself," he grumbled, taking a swig from his beer.
"Enjoying the party?"
"Not really," he admitted. "I'm sorry, El, but I'm not in the mood to talk right now."
El nodded. "I get it. The one person that you want to talk to isn't here."
Steve scoffed. "Yeah, well, Eddie's made it pretty clear that he doesn't want to talk to me."
El was quiet for a moment. "People are dumb: they don't think what they feel, don't say what they think, and don't do what they say."
"Are you saying that I'm dumb?"
"Yes."
Steve shook his head. "Well, I can't say that I appreciate your honesty."
"Eddie's dumb, too," El continued. "Neither of you thinks what you feel, you don't say what you think and don't do what you say. You're acting like a pair of mouth-breathers."
"Hey! I might be dumb but I'm no mouth-breather."
El drew him a withering look. "Eddie invited you to his show, arranged for a limo to pick you up, got you backstage passes, and told everyone to make you feel welcome. He even went to the effort of contacting that blond guy with the funny accent just so that you could meet him."
"His name's Simon Le Bon and he's British," said Steve irritably. "Wait. Eddie invited Simon Le Bon here for me?"
"Well, they don't really run in the same circles, do they?" El pointed out. "Mind you, he wasn't expecting Lizzie to hook up with Simon. He still thinks she's your girlfriend, though. Maybe not a very good one…"
"But she's not my girlfriend!" Steve cried. "How many times do I have to repeat myself before someone will listen to me?"
"People don't do what they say," said El sagely. "You say she's not your girlfriend, but you brought a girl that you previously dated to Eddie's show. You can't blame him for jumping to conclusions."
"But…" Steve's argument died on his lips—he knew that El was right. He groaned and bashed his head against the sticky bar top. "I'm an idiot, aren't I?"
"That's what I've been trying to say," said El, exasperated.
"What am I going to do?"
"Talk to him. The simplest answer is usually the right one."
"I don't know where he is," Steve despaired.
El sighed and closed her eyes. Steve knew that El was searching for Eddie, so he kept quiet and let her do her magic. A few moments later, she opened her eyes and said, "He's back at the hotel. Room number 1701."
"I've lost count of how many times today your powers have saved my ass," said Steve gratefully.
"Three," she smirked. "But who's counting?"
Steve gave El a quick hug and hurried for the exit.
It was a short taxi ride from the nightclub to the hotel, which didn't allow Steve much time to figure out what he was going to say to Eddie. By the time he reached Eddie's room, he had roughly outlined in his mind what to say, starting with a groveling apology. He knocked on the door and waited. A few moments later, the door opened and Eddie appeared. He'd swapped out his mesh top and leather pants for a washed out Iron Maiden t-shirt and a pair of boxers.
"Harrington?" he frowned. "What are you doing here?"
Steve stared at him. What he wanted to say was "I'm sorry for being an idiot", but what came out of his mouth was, "Lizzie isn't my girlfriend."
Eddie pursed his lips. "You came all this way just to tell me that?"
"Well, no," Steve shifted from one foot to the other. "Not just that."
"Alright," Eddie crossed his arms and leaned against the door frame. "I'm in an unusually generous mood, so I'll let you say your piece. Go on, then. Spill it."
Steve took a deep breath. "I'm sorry for inviting Lizzie to the show. I realize now it was stupid of me but I really was just doing her a favor. She's been trying to build up a clientele for her business and…" Seeing the bemused expression creeping across Eddie's face, Steve moved on, "It doesn't matter. The point is, even if she did have any interest in me—which she clearly doesn't—I have zero interest in being with her."
"Really?" said Eddie quietly.
"Really! I'm sorry that I didn't thank you for inviting Simon Le Bon to your after-party just so that I could get the chance to meet him. I'm sorry that I shouted at you and called you an asshole. I'm sorry for acting like a total mouth-breather and not even realizing it."
"Mouth-breather?" Eddie repeated, confused.
"I'm sorry that I was so angry at you when Henderson made us both his best men," he continued. "I'm sorry that I invited Lizzie to Henderson's party because I wanted to make you jealous…"
Eddie's eyes widened with surprise at that admission. Steve took a tentative step closer to him.
"...I'm sorry that I called your van a piece of junk. I'm sorry that I was jealous of you and your success because you earned it. I'm sorry that it's taken me all this time to see you—I mean really see you. And I'm sorry I haven't done this long before now."
Before he lost his nerve, Steve closed the distance between him and Eddie and pressed their lips together in a firm kiss. It wasn't exactly romantic, but it showed clear intent. Eddie stiffened in surprise but he didn't pull away. When Steve broke the kiss, Eddie looked dazed.
"Harrington," he said breathlessly. "You do realize that you just kissed me."
Steve brushed his hair out of his face and nodded vigorously. "Yeah. I mean… should I not have done that?"
Eddie beamed at him. Before Steve could apologize for misreading the situation, Eddie grabbed the sides of Steve's face and crushed their lips together in a searing kiss. And there it was. The sexual electricity that he had been trying and failing to recapture with scores of girls for so long had been right here the whole time. It felt like every nerve in his brain and his body were being set alight, waking him from a lifelong slumber of mundanity. Steve swayed on the spot and grabbed Eddie's upper arms to steady himself. The distinct sandalwood cologne that Eddie wore filled his nostrils and made him feel light-headed. He breathed in deep, wanting to drown himself in it. When Steve felt the flick of Eddie's tongue brush against his lips, the sensation sent pleasure straight to his groin and he couldn't help the needy moan that was muffled by Eddie's mouth.
Steve's body seemed to be on autopilot all of a sudden as he felt himself step further into Eddie's room and kick the door shut with his heel. Eddie moved forward then, pushing Steve against the door and pressing their bodies closer together. Eddie was rougher than most girls Steve had been with, but he wasn't complaining. It felt good to have Eddie's strong hands on him.
Steve carded his fingers through Eddie's hair and gripped it tight. It was his first time kissing a guy but he was still surprised at how good it felt, how right it felt to have Eddie's lips and hands on his body. But kissing wasn't enough; he wanted more.
Steve tentatively moved his hands down Eddie's broad back, pausing at his hips before taking the plunge and grabbing his ass, giving it an appreciative squeeze. Eddie let out a soft moan of approval and let his own hands wander, sliding one between Steve's legs and cupping his erection. Steve's breath stuttered as Eddie gave his cock a firm rub through the rough cotton jeans.
"Too fast?" asked Eddie, sounding breathless.
Steve shook his head. "Keep going."
Eddie popped the button of Steve's jeans and tugged the zip down. Steve felt lightheaded with arousal and Eddie hadn't even touched him yet. He held his breath as Eddie slipped his hand beneath the hem of his boxers. When the tips of Eddie's smooth, calloused fingers brushed against his cock, Steve couldn't help the needy moan that escaped his lips. Emboldened, Eddie closed his fingers around the base of Steve's cock and squeezed. Steve gasped, clamped his eyes shut and threw his head back, bashing it against the door, but he barely noticed. It was taking all of his willpower not to cum right there and then.
Eddie groaned, grabbed a fistful of Steve's hair and pressed his lips to Steve's ear. "Fuck, you're wet."
Steve whimpered as Eddie began expertly moving his hand back and forth across his length, slick with precome, in long, smooth strokes. He was thrusting his hips forward into Eddie's fist, fucking himself closer to climax. This was bliss. This was heaven. But it still wasn't enough.
Steve felt a spike of nerves and arousal as he rubbed Eddie's erection through the soft cotton of his boxers. Eddie's dick twitched with interest and without further prompting, Eddie was tugging his boxers down past his thighs. Taking that as his cue to proceed, Steve wrapped his hand around the base of Eddie's cock and squeezed, a thrill of pleasure coursing through him at the way Eddie's breath hitched at his touch.
Their movements were clumsy and uncoordinated at first, but soon they found their rhythm, pumping each other's cocks in sync as their lips ghosted over each other, panting and moaning into each other's mouths, pushing and pulling each other closer and closer to climax. As Steve lurched towards the point of no return, the rest of the world around him seemed to melt away. His mind was a fog of desire, all he could think about, all he wanted to feel, was Eddie's hand stroking his cock; Eddie's hot, panting breaths against his skin; Eddie's hand gripping his hair so tight it was like his life depended on it; Steve's name on Eddie's lips as he came…
Steve's brain short-circuited as he felt Eddie's hot cum coat his fingers. His arousal spiked and the tension that had been building up inside of him for days, weeks, finally snapped and he felt himself tumble over the precipice into sweet oblivion. Steve's back arched as his orgasm tore through him and his legs threatened to buckle but Eddie's strong hands kept him upright, holding him close as he pressed worshipful, open-mouthed kisses along the column of his neck and shoulder. Steve clung to Eddie as the post-orgasmic haze coursed through his veins like a pulse, thrumming against the inside of his skull in time with his heartbeat as he slowly came back down to earth. Steve had always enjoyed sex, he had always prided himself on being good at it, but he'd never felt like this after going to bed with a girl. He didn't know if it was sex with a guy or Eddie specifically, but it felt… transcendent.
Eddie had his forehead pressed against Steve's shoulder. He couldn't seem to meet Steve's eyes. "You're not freaking out there, are you, Harrington?"
His tone was light but the tension in Eddie's body betrayed his nerves.
"Not yet," he replied, still trying to catch his breath. "Why? Does that happen a lot after you've jerked someone off?"
Eddie shrugged. "You'd be surprised."
Steve frowned. He wondered how many times Eddie had been in this same situation, opening himself up to someone just for them to turn tail and run. And here he was thinking Steve was about to do the same thing. Steve slid his hand over the nape of Eddie's neck and gently turned his head so that he could kiss him, slow and purposeful. Eddie practically melted into the kiss, the wet drag of their lips against each other sent a pleasant shiver up Steve's spine. It wasn't as messy or heated as their previous kisses, but Steve hoped that it made his intentions clear: despite Eddie's trepidations, Steve wasn't planning on going anywhere.