steddie

Steve woke up with sweat sticking his bangs to his forehead. He could feel beads trickling down his chest, feel the comforter practically glued to his legs. He rolled over, kicking the fabric away.

That was when the scent hit him.

It was burning wood, tobacco, weed, something musky and vaguely leather.

He felt like utter shit. He had a hangover that could only be described as his head feeling like it’s being ripped in two. He groans, pressing his fingers into his temples to maybe massage it out. He doesn’t dare open his eyes, because by now he remembers that he had a Halloween party last night.

And he just knows he got drunk off his ass, did something dumb. In regular Steve Harrington fashion. And that suspicion is confirmed when he can feel a body laid next to him.

Eddie Munson. Of fucking course. Out of everybody, of course it’s him.

Steve curses himself out in his head. “Stupid, stupid, stupid. Bad Steve. Bad, bad Steve.”

Well, that explains the lingering stench of weed. Damnit. He thought he was doing Eddie a favour, inviting him to the party. It meant he’d get to sell a shitload of weed. He didn’t anticipate he’d be the one smoking it, and ending up in bed with him.

He turned his body to look at Eddie. Eddie was facing away from him, only one of his fake vampire fangs still in his mouth, his heavy eye makeup smudged, and his long mane of hair sticking to his face in odd shapes.