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Eddie Munson is sick of New York, sick of his parents, sick of himself. He doesn't expect to find anything better on his uncle Wayne's cattle ranch— but he doesn’t anticipate a cowboy named Steve Harrington.
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Eddie thinks that he’s probably judged Steve too quickly. He thinks Steve’s probably full of surprises, if the past two years are anything to go by.
And then, of course, Steve just has to prove him right by stepping out of his BMW in a full sailor suit fantasy that not even the most depraved recesses of Eddie’s mind could have cooked up. Jesus. He’s got the little hat and everything. Cute tiny shorts, too, that are regrettably not as short as the ones included in the Hawkins High gym uniform, but still short enough for Eddie to be able to appreciate Steve’s legs. He has nice legs. Good knees. White socks pulled halfway up his calves, for some reason, stark against his golden tan skin. Wispy little hairs that probably go up his thighs. Eddie needs to stop looking at his legs.
“Eddie Munson,” Steve calls as he approaches, his voice all easy and light like they’re actually friends. “Hi.”
Eddie blinks at him.
Because Eddie's life can never be normal, the summer of '85 finds him working a firework stand just outside of Starcourt Mall, catching up on school work, and tutoring Steve Harrington in all things D&D.
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And just like that, Eddie pulls his boxers down just a smidge too low.
Eddie wasn’t lying. The tattoo, a gorgeous, fantastical imagining of a dragon, stretches across the plane of his stomach all the way into his pubic hair.
But that’s not what Steve’s looking at.