Chapter Text
“Come on, you gotta get going, Harrington,” Tommy’s voice came. A stinging slap to Steve’s naked thigh wrapped around the beta’s sheets accompanying his words, the omega’s breaths still coming in pants as he gazed dazedly at the other boy.
“Y–yeah, sorry,” Steve said, the reprimand clear in Tommy’s voice, embarrassment colouring his cheeks as the sweat of their little tryst still cloyed to his skin.
The sky outside was dark, Steve grimacing at the light wash jeans and thin polo shirt he had worn that night out, knowing Hawkins’ spring air could be biting this late, a grey mist falling over the town.
Shouldn’t have left your car at home, stupid. Steve mentally berated himself, his eyes casting at Tommy now lying in the warm sheets, sighing as it looked like he wouldn’t be getting any sort of lift from the beta who seemed ready to pass the fuck out after their activities.
His heart clenched a little at that. Tommy and Carol had been broken up since the end of their senior year when she moved away to go to beauty school somewhere in California. Tommy had been geared to take over his dad’s strip of hardware stores in town and had gotten a management position the moment he graduated.
And Steve had thought it was finally his chance at the boy who he had harboured a crush on throughout high school. Before he had hitched himself to Nancy, Tommy had chosen their preppy blonde cheerleader rather than the anomaly that was Steve Harrington, King of Hawkins High, the only male omega in their graduating class.
It had been fanciful when he had propositioned the beta, the embarrassment growing now as he shoved his sneakers on at how easily the other boy had gotten him into his bed, just a few choice compliments and Steve was putty in his hands.
Prettiest boy in all of Hawkins.
Always wanted a taste of you, even when I was with Carol.
Was always thinking of you, sweet cheeks, drove me crazy how everyone wanted you.
But you were always mine, huh, Harrington?
Wanna come home with me?
But when Steve had suggested they try going out on a real date, it had been staunchly declined.
“Come on, Harrington, we’re not like that. A good lay now and then, it’s enough yeah?”
And stupidly, Steve had found himself nodding along to whatever the beta was saying, not wanting to push, not wanting to drive the man away. If he agreed, he could convince his hurt omega that he hadn’t been rejected. Not this time. Not again. Their relationship was just…different…freeing. No boundaries were set to what they were, meaning there would be space to grow, to become more.
When Tommy chose the right time.
He stands up, a little too fast for his head, the tells of the migraine that had already started building before Tommy had phoned his house earlier that day finally pushing to the forefront.
“Hey, do you have any Tylenol?” Steve asks, wishing he had his glasses as that usual nerve in his right eye starts twitching subtly, but he had left them behind. Tommy didn’t like how he looked in them.
“Are you turning into some four-eyed freak on me or something, Harrington? Take ‘em off, I ain’t fucking you in them, man.”
Tommy’s hand waves about, lighting a cigarette before turning a cursory glance to Steve, “Nah man, doubt it. But you’re like ten minutes away from here, you can make it. I didn’t rail ya that hard.” He gives Steve a lecherous smirk as he says the last words, the omega’s face colouring before he nods his head, decidedly uncomfortable now.
Steve always knew he enjoyed his partners a little dirty around the edges (barring Nancy, who had been nothing but sweet when it came to matters of intimacy, Steve not minding the change of pace). So, it was a little perplexing, the pit that grew in his core at Tommy’s words, the shame that filled him where there had been none before.
“Yeah–uhm, guess I’ll be going then,” Steve says awkwardly, stepping from foot to foot, kind of waiting for the beta to give him at least a kiss goodbye, but finally turning to walk out the door at the shooing motion of Tommy’s hand.
Stupid, omega.
The omega dismissed with a grunt as the beta wiggled about, seemingly getting himself comfortable.
“Turn off the lights on the way out, would ya.”
**
“Guy’s a complete asshole, I don’t know what you see in him,” Robin spewed for the millionth time.
To be fair, Steve regaling–in detail–his night to his best friend probably wasn’t the best idea if he wanted the advice he was gunning for rather than having his better half bash the man he was trying to date.
“Not what I want to hear right now, Rob,” he says as much, rolling his eyes at the alpha’s antics, going back to restocking the videos brought in from the drop box as Robin trails behind him, not bothering to help him. Too preoccupied with her ranting speech as she speaks right over him.
“Well! Sorry for wanting the best for my platonic soulmate! Seriously, you could do so much better than Hagan,” she gags as she says his name−like a middle schooler−Steve merely rolling his eyes at her dramatics once again.
“Yeah, so much better. I practically have a whole line-up of potential suitors,” Steve retorts back, sharp and sarcastic as he looks at her with a raised brow.
Robin has the decency to flinch at his tone, nodding her head in assent, but still not giving up. “Okay, so what if Nancy was the last person who formally asked you for a courting,” she doesn’t miss Steve’s wince, barrelling on before he can prove his point, “but! It doesn’t mean that Hagan is the one for you, Steve. Hawkins is filled with deadbeats and losers, which is why you should come to the Hideout with me and Vickie this weekend. Spread your wings a little if you plan on sticking around, you need to change up your usual crowd.”
The omega can’t help but laugh, Robin was nothing but relentless, “Wow, I know you just want the free ride, Robs.”
“Steve! Come on!” she all but whines, “It’ll be fun, and I know you don’t have the dweebs this weekend, I already checked with Dustin.”
She’s smug as she says it, Steve scowling at her, “Dustin is a little shit, and I have more going on than just babysitting on the weekends, you know.”
There was slight petulance in his voice, understandable when his favourite pup was going behind his back and Robin was besting his attempts in avoiding her little out-of-his-comfort-zone exploits with her girlfriend.
“Oh, come on,” Robin whines some more, draping her smaller frame over his shoulder, her rich lavender scent filling him up.
“If you go with me this weekend, I promise to help you with those extra English credit classes of yours.”
“You’d help me anyways,” Steve counters, Robin’s eye roll making him smile, knowing he’s right.
But then her blue eyes go big and her hands clasp in front of her as if in prayer, “Please, just come with us, and then I’ll never force you to do anything ever again.”
They both know that’s a lie, yet it cracks Steve as he finds himself sighing, “Alright, alright, if you want me to that much, I’ll go.”
“Yes!” Robin all but screams, her fist raising in the air like she just conquered the greatest obstacle of her life.
“You so won’t regret it, Steve.”
***
He sticks out like a sore thumb. Steve’s all denim blue and soft pink cashmere amongst a sea of black leather and rattling chains.
“Robin, you sure this is a good idea?” Steve nearly screams over the band playing up on stage, their music loud and aggressive, and not to the omega’s taste at all. But it seemed the rest of the bar patrons thought otherwise as bodies clamber to the front of the small set, making it that much harder for the trio to get to the bar.
Robin’s knobby limbs finally manage to push enough people out of their way so they can squeeze up front by the bar, Steve in between the two alphas as Vickie shouts their order to the bartender who doesn’t bother to ID her.
“Dingus, I told you to borrow my leather jacket,” Robin finally responds, looking at him with raised brows.
“It would’ve ruined my look!” Steve says, affronted and indignant as ever. Nobody ever accused Steve Harrington of having a poor fashion sense, and the omega took immense pride in that fact. Even if it drew a few curious glances his way at the pastel-coloured boy. And not many were as appreciative as he was hoping for, making him shrink a bit between the two women.
“Well, then suck it up, enjoy the booze, enjoy the music, go wild. Literally anything, you’re Tommy-free this weekend, baby!”
With that, she takes her drink and flounces off to join the crowd who had dispersed from the stage but were still hopped up on adrenaline as bodies smashed together in a wild tangle on the dance floor. The music playing through the speakers was no less loud, and a little heavy-handed on the guitar if you asked Steve.
He spies Robin’s awkward flailing movements, Vickie seeming to not give two shits about the embarrassment that was Robin Buckley’s dance moves, and sighs when their bodies merge with the crowd, the omega losing sight of them.
He takes the fruity drink Vickie had bought him, reminding himself to thank her as he takes a sip of the sweet strawberry schnapps, the bitter taste of alcohol loosening him up already as he waves down the waiter to get him another.
And Steve thanked his lucky stars Vickie had offered to drive them up here, no doubt Robin had cajoled her, knowing he wouldn’t make it through a place like this without some liquid courage.
Steve sits at the bar for what feels like ages, eyes darting this way and that, the drinks in front of him doubling before he finally calls it quits. The space is suddenly too hot and overwhelms his senses as scents all mingle and crossfire in his brain.
It’s the perfect cocktail for his head to start throbbing, and Steve starts moving to the exit out back before it tips from his pleasantly buzzed synapses to hammers puncturing through his every nerve point.
The air is cool on his slightly sweaty skin when he gets out. Steve’s lips grimacing at the less than stellar sidewalk outside the bar, lamenting how he had spent nearly an hour scrubbing his white sneakers back to their eye-blinding pristine condition.
“Great,” he mutters, walking away from the entrance where the bouncer had gone so far as to give him a sceptical once over before finally letting him through. As if everyone could sense how out of his depth he was here at the outskirts of town, the Hideout not a place known for being popular amongst the…well popular kids of Hawkins High when his weekends were filled with nothing but booze and partying.
“Fuck!”
The omega’s head shoots up at the curse, brown eyes going wide when he finds someone stepping unsteadily, holding onto a large amp in front of them, clearly ready to load it in the open door of the van he’s standing next to.
He rushes ahead on instinct, grabbing the front bottom of the thing before the person can topple right on over.
“I’m here,” Steve groans as he takes some of the weight of the surprisingly heavy equipment. The person on the other end grunts at his words before they both manage to get it secured in the unmarked van amongst all the other instruments Steve peeks.
“You’re a lifesaver, doll,” the omega hears, Steve’s head whipping in the direction of the person that he can now fully see.
And the man in front of him is all dimples and big brown eyes and long, curly hair (clearly not conditioned or brushed out properly, Steve can’t help but notice, the frizz of his mane making his hair stand out in an untamed tangle).
A light breeze hits just as Steve’s mouth opens, the omega inadvertently taking in the man’s scent. And it’s all birch wood with the sharp sting of mint, it’s wintergreens sprouting fresh and vibrant.
Alpha.
“Uh.” Steve stutters, coughing to clear his palate from that fragrance that seems to burn across his palette (not unpleasant, Steve thinks) “Y–yeah, no problem.”
The air becomes stilted with silence, the omega taking a moment to wonder if it was probably because he was still standing there, rooted to the spot trying to subtly drag in more of that aroma before it became lost to him for good.
But it also gives the alpha standing in front of him a moment of his own to not-so-subtly allow his gaze to move along the omega’s body. Steve having the strangest feeling that it wasn’t so much a check-out rather than the man sizing him up as he arches a brow when his dark eyes finally come to rest on Steve’s own.
“Never thought I’d see the day that Steve Harrington would grace this place with his presence.”
It’s a jolt when his name comes out of the other man’s mouth, Steve feeling the furrow of his brow before he can stop the action, clearly thinking out loud about who exactly it was he was speaking to.
“Eddie Munson at your service,” the alpha, Eddie, says, giving Steve a rather dramatic, deep bow with his arms spread, his eyes not leaving Steve’s for a single second.
His face tingles, a warmth spreading from the tops of his cheeks down his neck, because truthfully, the name doesn’t ring any bells either. Steve thinks that Eddie knows it by the way he won’t stop smirking at the blank expression Steve levels him with at the reveal.
“It’s not much of a surprise that you don’t remember me, what with me being way down on the social ladder of the total hellhole that was Hawkins High and all,” Eddie explains as he steps closer, forcing the omega to take a step back as he leans that much closer so he can close the van door. The swoosh as it slides and the loud bang startles him a little in the quiet of the night.
“Though I suppose selling the best weed got me out of experiencing the horrors of school yard bullying and your famous tongue lashings.”
“Hm,” Steve murmurs, not exactly knowing what to say to the alpha then, placing his hands deep inside the back pockets of his jeans. It wasn’t every day he was reminded of the complete jerk he was in high school, and it kind of felt weird to go on a tirade about how he’d changed since senior year.
It’s that exact thought though that drags out the barest of memories as Steve blurts without thinking, “Oh, Super Senior!”
The words come out much too enthusiastically with the insult that they represented, the omega just so taken with the fact that he remembered something about the alpha who orbited the same halls as he did not that long ago. But the embarrassment of not remembering the man is taken over by complete humiliation at his lack of a filter, the alcohol not having lost its effects in the cool night air.
“Uhm–I mean,” the younger boy stutters, scratching the back of his neck in discomfort at this entire conversation.
What he doesn’t expect is a boisterous, bordering on manic, laugh that shoots out from the alpha’s mouth, lips stretched wide enough his dimple lines popped right out.
“Wow, and here I thought I would get a cool moniker, like Satan Worshipper or some shit. Guess I shoulda seen that one comin’. At least I got my GED before skippin’ outta my third failed attempt.”
There’s a twang to his voice that Steve can’t help but find pleasant, his alpha tone kind of deep and smooth fitting in all the grooves of the words he trips over.
It’s…Eddie’s got a nice voice, the omega can’t help but to notice. His cheeks colouring at the thought.
Before Steve can say something more, probably something that would only insult the man further, the omega spots a familiar design on the front of Eddie’s t-shirt.
“Hellfire Club,” he reads, the argument he had with the pack on wearing the hideous design of a devil’s head with its grotesque teeth vivid in his mind from when the brats had whined and pouted at Steve’s complaints, “My pups are part of that too.”
This time it’s Eddie’s face that contorts into one of confusion as his eyes squint at the omega that doesn’t look a day over his twenty years, “Your pups?”
“I mean, not my pups, obviously,” a little of his usual sass laces his words as Steve rolls his eyes at the alpha probably picturing him with a brood of prepubescent pups in tow, which–okay wouldn’t be that far off from how they had incessantly started dubbing him the mom of their little pack.
“I babysit a few kids, they’re like obsessed with this game called Dragons and Wizards, kept begging me to take ‘em down to the youth centre on Main Street. Dustin and Mike found out bigger games or something was happening down there.”
Steve doesn’t mean to steamroll the guy with his word vomit but speaking about his pups always seems to excite him. And Eddie just crosses his arms as he takes in Steve’s explanation, leaning his lithe body against the side of the now-closed door. The omega spying a black handkerchief hanging from the pocket of his black, ripped-up pants.
“Never seen you around there before. I mean, I think I would know if King Steve were around us lowly peasants and on the regular dropping off our newbie Dungeons and Dragons members.”
Something in Steve flutters when Eddie’s tone doesn’t take on that superior effect when correcting his mistake, doesn’t even bother to call him out on not knowing the name of the damn game Dustin and the rest had explained more than a hundred times to him by this point. It just sits there, no reprimand, no correction, no eye roll accompanying his misspeak or stupidity.
Though the ‘king’ makes the omega wince, that uncomfortable itch at being reminded of a person he could barely even recognise anymore makes him want to run as far away from the reminder as possible. But it’s that damning scent of birch wood and peppermint that keeps the omega lingering around.
“I just have enough time to fetch and drop the little nuggets off. Kind of tight timing with my shift at Family Video. And Mrs Henderson wheedled me out of picking them up, said I’m a complete pushover for the little shits what with driving them everywhere and anywhere they want.”
“Huh,” Eddie says, his eyes never leaving Steve’s as he seems to consider the omega with those dark pools of onyx.
Before he can ask what that expression is about, Robin’s shrill voice rings throughout the entire car park from across near the entrance of the bar.
“Hey, dingus!”
He winces at the slur in her words, knowing a drunk Robin was always a little more abrasive than usual, which was saying a lot. And the last thing Steve wants is for her to come over and say some shit that would heat him under the collar even more than he was. Their single shared brain cell could only function so well when they were both a little tipsy.
“I gotta go,” Steve says, the almost put-out expression crossing Eddie’s face surprising him. “It was nice meeting you, Eddie,” Steve’s voice teasing as a small smile stretches along his lips.
And it’s the first time he says the alpha’s name, and he can’t help the little lilt of affection that threads through each syllable. The omega ever so grateful that he decided to wear a scent patch before leaving home, knowing his cloyingly sweet scent would be wafting through the space between them.
Huh,he thinks. Scents had never really been a thing that affected him all too much, but there was just something…tantalising about Eddie’s. Something that made his core go all liquid soft for the older boy who was for all intents a complete stranger to him still.
“Yeah, you too, Harrington.”
Steve's face falls slightly at the use of his surname, but before he can be too put upon, Eddie moves closer, his hand going to Steve’s shoulder.
The warmth of his skin radiates through his sweater as the tips of the alpha’s fingers brush along the exposed skin at the neckline of his sweater. “Come around when Corroded is playing again sometime, I could buy you a beer,” Eddie looks him up and down, that smirk back as he corrects himself. “Maybe a fruity cocktail is more your speed though. You could tell me more about your pups.”
“Y–yeah, sure,” is all Steve can say, kind of confused by the request, not understanding why Eddie would want to hear more about his babysitting adventures.
And what was ‘Corroded’? He would probably have to ask Robin if she knew.
“Steve,” Robin’s drawl comes, high and long and all too chipper for this late hour, Steve momentarily closing his eyes in fortification before he looks up at Eddie with a slightly pained smile.
“Duty calls, see you around,” he calls out as he heads back inside.
And Steve’s too far away to hear the little, “I hope so,” that Eddie whispers into the dark of night as he heads back to his van.
Gareth was going to kill him for turning up much later than he said he would to their weed-induced after-party, that was for sure.
But the alpha gets one last glimpse of Steve through the side mirror of his van as he hoists himself up, a smile planting on his face as he replays the wholly unexpected encounter with the gorgeous, and surprising omega.
Worth it, he thinks, before finally starting his van.
And the oddity that was Steve Harrington ran on a loop in his mind all the way home.