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I guess I can only draw the boys lounging in bed

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God gives his greatest battles to his littlest guys (being sick sucks 🤧😔)

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I’ve seen people rating fics out of 10 in the bookmarks and I’m like… my guy, I’m already on a paper thin edge, please don’t.

Btw in case no one has told you this week

Private bookmarks on ao3 are a thing. It’s also incredibly weird to leave rude comments in bookmarks and I don’t really get why you’d even keep something you didn’t like bookmarked? Like. Ao3 is free, fanfic is free. I am begging for people to learn some respect and decorum

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Eddie Munson is the type of man who would choke on a fruit roll up

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IT'S ALMOST BIG BANG TIME!!!!!

The first chapter of my Steddie Big Bang fic, titled "I'd Pray to God That You Would Choke (If I Had One)" drops on November 16th! I'm so excited for you to read this project. My artist and I have been working extremely hard to make something special for you and I really hope you all enjoy it!

As a treat, here's an excerpt from part one!

1986

After the streets of Hawkins were forcibly knit back together in secret by a super-powered fourteen-year-old girl, and her merry band of misfits, the world simply moved on. The survivors mourned the dead with memorial services and plaques around town, of course. But homes were rebuilt, streets repaved, time passed. 

No one would ever know what seven kids and four young adults had done for a shithole town in the middle of Indiana. No one would know that the world was saved with makeshift shields, Molotov cocktails, and walkie-talkies. Saved by the outcasts, the freaks, the fallen kings. But it was. 

When Eddie was pulled from the Upside Down, skin soaked in blood, and muck, and a surprising amount of bat guts, the world still tried to paint him as the villain. They grasped at broken straws, little crumbs of half-baked conspiracies that they could use to point a crooked finger at an innocent man. But with Jim Hopper risen from the dead, standing firmly planted on his side, the town had no choice but to listen to his story, no matter how much they complained. Of course, it was a fabricated story, a well-spun web with details filled in courtesy of Hawkins Lab and Doctor Sam Owens. There were stipulations, of course, and non-disclosures were signed by all.

Eddie was put in a private room at Hawkins Memorial after he was cleared by the government officials who swarmed in as soon as possible. There he was stitched and glued back together, held together by strings and tape. 

The kids came and went, flitting between his room and Max’s down the hall, usually hauling Robin or Nancy, behind them. Occasionally, Jonathan and his friend Argyle were dragged along, but it seemed they spent their days lost to the sweet green smoke that Eddie craved. 

Wayne never left his bedside, sleeping on a small cot that the nurse had rolled into the room. The plant had told him to take as much time as he needed, that his job would be there for him when he was ready. They had even offered to give him some extra pay for his bills, but Wayne wouldn’t take it. He was reluctant to ask for anything, per usual. But when the government had simply deposited a large sum of cash into his account and disappeared into the night, he couldn’t turn it away.

Steve didn’t leave either, much to Eddie’s surprise. He spent his days right there next to his bedside, stroking over the newly scarred skin of his hand. He only left for short times, usually when Eddie slept. When he returned, his hair would still be damp and a new t-shirt would be clinging to his perfectly sculpted frame. To fill their days, Steve read to him. He stumbled over the words sometimes, but it was Eddie’s favorite activity, listening to the soft melody of Steve’s voice reading to him. They got through all of The Hobbit and most of The Fellowship of the Ring before Eddie was allowed to go home. Eddie figured that was that and his life would return to its normal lonely state.

But Steve didn’t fade away when the dust had settled like Eddie was afraid he would. The government had provided him and his uncle with a new trailer, with fresh white paint and sterile floors, and Steve was the one to help Eddie make his room more like home. He had gone out and bought a plethora of posters and cassettes to fill his space with, and spent an entire day on a ladder to help hang everything up while Eddie directed him from his place in bed. He tried to say it was nothing much, just little bits of what would make his house a home. It was a kind thing, one that Eddie had not expected from the likes of Steve Harrington.

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IT'S ALMOST BIG BANG TIME!!!!!

The first chapter of my Steddie Big Bang fic, titled "I'd Pray to God That You Would Choke (If I Had One)" drops on November 16th! I'm so excited for you to read this project. My artist and I have been working extremely hard to make something special for you and I really hope you all enjoy it!

As a treat, here's an excerpt from part one!

1986

After the streets of Hawkins were forcibly knit back together in secret by a super-powered fourteen-year-old girl, and her merry band of misfits, the world simply moved on. The survivors mourned the dead with memorial services and plaques around town, of course. But homes were rebuilt, streets repaved, time passed. 

No one would ever know what seven kids and four young adults had done for a shithole town in the middle of Indiana. No one would know that the world was saved with makeshift shields, Molotov cocktails, and walkie-talkies. Saved by the outcasts, the freaks, the fallen kings. But it was. 

When Eddie was pulled from the Upside Down, skin soaked in blood, and muck, and a surprising amount of bat guts, the world still tried to paint him as the villain. They grasped at broken straws, little crumbs of half-baked conspiracies that they could use to point a crooked finger at an innocent man. But with Jim Hopper risen from the dead, standing firmly planted on his side, the town had no choice but to listen to his story, no matter how much they complained. Of course, it was a fabricated story, a well-spun web with details filled in courtesy of Hawkins Lab and Doctor Sam Owens. There were stipulations, of course, and non-disclosures were signed by all.

Eddie was put in a private room at Hawkins Memorial after he was cleared by the government officials who swarmed in as soon as possible. There he was stitched and glued back together, held together by strings and tape. 

The kids came and went, flitting between his room and Max’s down the hall, usually hauling Robin or Nancy, behind them. Occasionally, Jonathan and his friend Argyle were dragged along, but it seemed they spent their days lost to the sweet green smoke that Eddie craved. 

Wayne never left his bedside, sleeping on a small cot that the nurse had rolled into the room. The plant had told him to take as much time as he needed, that his job would be there for him when he was ready. They had even offered to give him some extra pay for his bills, but Wayne wouldn’t take it. He was reluctant to ask for anything, per usual. But when the government had simply deposited a large sum of cash into his account and disappeared into the night, he couldn’t turn it away.

Steve didn’t leave either, much to Eddie’s surprise. He spent his days right there next to his bedside, stroking over the newly scarred skin of his hand. He only left for short times, usually when Eddie slept. When he returned, his hair would still be damp and a new t-shirt would be clinging to his perfectly sculpted frame. To fill their days, Steve read to him. He stumbled over the words sometimes, but it was Eddie’s favorite activity, listening to the soft melody of Steve’s voice reading to him. They got through all of The Hobbit and most of The Fellowship of the Ring before Eddie was allowed to go home. Eddie figured that was that and his life would return to its normal lonely state.

But Steve didn’t fade away when the dust had settled like Eddie was afraid he would. The government had provided him and his uncle with a new trailer, with fresh white paint and sterile floors, and Steve was the one to help Eddie make his room more like home. He had gone out and bought a plethora of posters and cassettes to fill his space with, and spent an entire day on a ladder to help hang everything up while Eddie directed him from his place in bed. He tried to say it was nothing much, just little bits of what would make his house a home. It was a kind thing, one that Eddie had not expected from the likes of Steve Harrington.

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LNC: STEVE HARRINGTON (inspo)

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Soft

Commissions | Patreon | Instagram

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nothing is more humbling as a fanfiction writer than your search history. the searches while writing range from “stupid questions” to “you’re going to be put on a government watchlist” and every step in between.

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Stobin Appreciation Week 2023 by @dailystobin!!!

Day 4 : songs/lyrics/poems 🤍

spongebob // The Beatrice Letters, Lemony Snicket // A little life, Hanya Yanagihara // Ribs, Lorde // Normal People, Sally Rooney // Frog and Toad, Arnold Lobel // Stuck with me, The Neighborhood // Just Kids, Patti Smith // (pic) Troy and Abed (quo.) Winnie the Pooh by @/catbandits // Ryan O’Connell // Written on the body, Jeanette Winterson // Trista Mateer // Smoke Signals, Phoebe Bridgers // Grief Lessons: Four Plays by Euripides, Anne Carson

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Breaking news! Fic author starts writing a fic thinking it will be short and it turns out to be long! It is not the first time nor will it be the last!

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i have witnessed unspeakable horrors . the horrors weren't undescribable or anything, i just had to sign an NDA

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This. 100% this.

There’s no love like the love you feel for the people who comment on your fics

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STEVE HARRINGTON Stranger Things, 4.09 - The Piggyback

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excerpt from my demisexual eddie fic | read on ao3 here!

Eddie is so unused to being this fucking messed up over one specific person, and it’s driving him absolutely crazy. The fact that it’s Steve fucking Harrington doesn’t make it any better, and even though Eddie knows him now and he’s a good guy (the best guy, actually), it doesn’t help that Steve is probably, one hundred percent not interested–not to mention Eddie’s best friend these days. Eddie saw him in the hallways in high school, remembers thinking, damn he’s nice to look at, but it was never to this level–this constant, almost achy feeling to rub one off to fantasies of Steve (which, boundaries, Munson) when he’s alone, and don’t get him started on when they’re actually hanging out–it’s impossible to stop staring and nearly salivating over the column of Steve’s throat, the fucking veins in his hands, his stupid smile and soft eyes and–

Yeah. Eddie needs to get a fucking grip. It’s getting embarrassing. If Steve hasn’t noticed already, he’s bound to if Eddie can’t get a hold of himself.

He’s going to drop by Family Video in an hour to bother Steve and Robin, so he lies in bed longer than usual, palming himself through his boxers and flicking his thumb over the head of his dick. He debates making himself come, but honestly, it probably won’t make much of a difference. When he used to get horny, before Steve, he could jerk off and he’d be good for the rest of the day, no problem. Now it’s like he’s fourteen again, barely any refractory period, and it doesn’t matter anymore. When he sees Steve it’s like his entire brain hums to life, whirring and buzzing like electricity.

It’s never been like this before. Eddie is starting to get concerned that there’s something seriously wrong with him.

He sighs and pushes his hand into his underwear anyway, rubbing two fingers over his dick and closing his eyes. He imagines Steve’s mouth on him, those pouty lips and those big eyes on Eddie as he licks into him. Eddie moans, shuddering, his mind a litany of stevestevesteve—he makes himself come mortifyingly fast, and actually does whimper Steve’s name completely out of his control. Jesus christ.

When he gets to Family Video, there are no customers in the store and Steve and Robin are having a heated argument about Miami Vice of all things. Why is Eddie half in love with this guy again? Steve is gesturing wildly at Robin with both hands, and he looks good in that stupid green vest. His hair is a little lopsided like he was messing with it, and it just makes Eddie smile like an absolute lovesick moron. Robin sees him first. She grins at him, rolls her eyes.

“Hey, Eddie,” she says. “Thank god you’re here, I’m so bored.”

Steve turns, catches Eddie’s eyes and gives him this–oh. This amused, exasperated smile like him and Eddie are in on some inside joke. It makes his eyes crinkle at the corners, and he rolls them, drops his elbows back on the counter and leans on it.

“What, I’m not enough for you anymore?” Steve says, in a faux dramatic voice that really rivals Eddie’s, actually, and slaps a hand over his heart. Steve’s eyes flit to him, grinning with all his teeth, and Eddie wants to lick them.

“Mocking me in my own home, Steven?” Eddie gasps. It makes no sense, but Steve laughs anyway, eyes bright and heavy even when Eddie looks away. He squats a little and flings himself onto the counter next to Steve’s stupid (cute) elbows–he misjudges the momentum he’ll need to swing his legs over and his ass goes sliding across the vinyl. He knocks into Steve a little, but Steve steadies him with his hand gripping Eddie’s bicep. Eddie clears his throat, trying not to think about Steve’s big fucking hand wrapped around his arm, bare skin to bare skin, because he’s only wearing a Metallica shirt today.

“Thanks,” Eddie squeaks, winded. Steve squeezes his arm once, then lets go. Eddie is dizzy, both from Steve’s touch and the smell of him so close–he smells like some kind of spicy sweet shampoo, maybe clove? Please, for the love of fuck do not faint right now, Eddie begs his traitourous body. He’s felt so out of control lately that he wouldn’t be surprised. When Eddie looks at Robin again, she’s staring at him, one eyebrow raised–she’s clocked him immediately. He looks down at his white sneakers to avoid her eyes.

It’s a Tuesday, so the store is slow. Eddie stays with them for a couple hours, even though he worries sometimes that he’s actually bothering them. But today they don’t give him the chance to think that–they all bicker back and forth, and Steve keeps himself tucked towards Eddie. They’re not touching, but Steve’s body heat simmers against Eddie’s bare arms and makes them crawl with goosebumps. A couple customers wander in before Eddie leaves, and Robin goes to greet them. Eddie slides back over the counter reluctantly, but Steve leans in again before he can put too much space between them.

“Hey, do you want to hang out later?” Steve asks. “It’ll just be us, since Robin has plans.”

“Yeah sure, man,” Eddie says. “I’ll bring the good stuff, yeah?”

Steve beams at him, and Eddie has to pretend his entire heart cavity did not just fall through his ass. He leaves the store a little lightheaded, his chest aching a little from smiling and laughing and just being–fuck, happy, for once.

x

Eddie’s a virgin, or whatever, is the thing. He doesn’t actually believe in the fucked-up societal defintion of virginity or losing his virginity, especially as a person with a vagina, but the fact of the matter is that, either way, he’s never had sex. It’s not for lack of trying, though. After he turned eighteen, he’d gotten fed up and went on a weekend trip up to Indy. Its one gay bar was a hole-in-the-wall place down a dark side street, meant for hiding, and Eddie knew he had to be extra cautious, even. But he figured there had to be some guys that were into him.

He danced with some men, flirted with a few more, and even made out with a guy significantly older than him in the alley behind the bar–which, he knows now, was definitely fucking dangerous, even though nothing happened at the time. But the guy was attractive, and definitely seemed interested. Eddie remembers that they were kissing, and the man (who’s name Eddie didn’t know then, either) was really into it, moaning and grinding against Eddie’s thigh. Eddie though, just remembers feeling kind of uncomfortable. He was kissing him back, but it didn’t really feel good. The guy’s mouth was wet and warm, and objectively, it didn’t feel bad. But Eddie was just kind of frozen there, kissing, body stiff. He wanted to be enjoying it, what the fuck was wrong with him? Kissing was supposed to be nice, at least, and it’s not like the man was trying to get Eddie to swallow his tongue or anything.

When the guy reached between their bodies to pull Eddie’s zipper down, without even asking first, Eddie made a panicked noise and finally jerked away. He made some kind of excuse and ran before the man could get a word in.

He went back to that bar a few times. He danced, he drank, he tried more kissing (even tried skipping straight to blowing a guy, once, thinking he just didn’t like swapping spit). Every time he lost his nerve, he panicked, he ran.

In high school, during his second go-round of senior year, there was a boy that had heard the rumors about Eddie being gay (a freak) and was curious. His name was Blake, and he was cute, and kept coming to buy drugs from Eddie a startling amount. He flirted with Eddie when they were all alone, was borderline nice to Eddie in public, but Eddie didn’t believe him, because this was Hawkins. But one day, Blake just asked him point blank if he wanted to fool around in the back of Eddie’s van.

Eddie said sure, because if there was this one other gay person in Hawkins, he was going to take advantage of it. He had a lot of anxiety about Blake finding out he was trans, but it never even got that far. They were making out on a scratchy blanket that smelled like weed, and it wasn’t–it was okay. Blake had asked him if it was okay, and Eddie said yeah, it’s okay, and then Blake was on top of him with his thigh between both of Eddie’s, and all Eddie could think was he’s gonna be able to feel that I can’t get hard—but Blake seemed pretty focused on kissing him.

He seemed just as inexperienced as Eddie, used a little bit too much tongue, and it was just on the side of too wet. Eddie’s heart was fucking pounding so loud and he didn’t want to do this. But he wanted to like this, to want someone else, and Blake was nice and looked nice–and. Shit. Blake pulled away to give him some breathing room, and Eddie was panting too loud in the quiet car. He should’ve put some music on.

“You okay?” Blake said.

“Um–I. Yeah man, I’m good.”

“We can stop,” Blake said, and he didn’t even sound pissed about it. He didn’t look convinced that Eddie wasn’t having some kind of mental breakdown, jesus christ. Everything in Eddie’s brain screamed at him to take advantage of this, to keep going, that maybe he would finally get to touch a dick and just–feel good with another person instead of just by himself in his bedroom. But as soon as Blake had pulled back a little, Eddie’s racing mind quieted, the panic receded.

“I–shit. Yeah, maybe that would be good.” Eddie winced, but Blake nodded, sitting up a little and out of Eddie’s space. Eddie felt shitty about it, but also shitty about the fact that he felt shitty in the first place. He gnawed on his lower lip, lighting up a joint and passing it to Blake, because it was the least he could do. Blake took it, inhaling.

“You’re gay, right?” Blake asked.

“Yeah,” Eddie said. “Yeah, I am. I just don’t–” Eddie pulled hard on his curls until it hurt. “I don’t know.”

“Hey, it’s fine,” Blake said. “Don’t worry about it. I’m going to college in a couple months, you know? I just figured, if I could get some experience.” he stopped, looked sheepishly at Eddie.

“I get it, man,” Eddie said. “So–you’re gay, too?”

“I think I am, yeah,” Blake said. “Trying to figure it out.”

“Sorry, I can’t–I’m sorry I can’t help.”

“It’s okay,” Blake said. “If you change your mind though, just let me know.”

And that was that. They smoked some weed, and talked a little bit–Blake wasn’t particularly interesting but Eddie could talk to anyone. He told Blake some stuff about D&D, and Blake laughed at his dumbass storytelling, and then they both went on their way, separately, and Eddie had no more knowledge than what he started with.

He resigned himself to being alone, maybe forever. Which, is dramatic, because he hasn’t tried with that many people, but even so. He feels good when he’s alone, so he doesn’t understand why he can’t feel good with someone else, too. He had cried that night, in his bedroom, the bed covers pulled all the way up to his chin and curled in on himself like he could disappear.

The point is, Eddie knows Steve is experienced. He didn’t associate with any of Steve’s fanclub in high school, but rumors got around pretty quickly, and no one was saying anything bad about Steve’s skills in bed. Eddie loved watching Steve in school, with his stupidly styled hair and khaki pants, but he was always unobtainable. He was straight, pretty boy jock Steve Harrington, and Eddie was at the lowest level of the high school hierarchy. He was never even an option.

The more time Eddie spends with Steve after everything, the more he realizes that Steve is nothing like the perception that Eddie had of him years ago. Steve isn’t nice, actually, like Blake–he’s kind and loyal to his little ragtag family, but he’s pretty aloof to people outside their party. He can be fussy about the stupidest shit, like the fingerprints on Eddie’s van windows, and kind of a bitch, and Eddie is obsessed with him. And the more he gets to know Steve as himself, the worse it gets.

It’s not like Eddie was immune, before. He saw Steve rip that bat apart in the upside down and almost had a goddamn aneurysm about it. He replayed it behind his eyelids on a loop later, when they weren’t running for their lives, his mind screeching fuckfuckfuck that’s hot. He couldn’t stop staring at Steve wearing his denim vest and his dirty chest hair that Eddie actually might want to put in his mouth–ugh. But the attraction has gotten worse, thrumming inside Eddie’s bones, since he woke up in the hospital and Steve was curled up in the armchair by his bedside, passed out and not even stirring when Eddie tried to say Harrington, what the fuck? with a tube jammed down his throat. Where before Eddie was accused of murder, it was a casual appreciation, but now it’s just inconvenient. All encompassing. Suffocating. Like his body is making up for all the years it wasn’t a giant pain in the ass, and now he’s feeling every lustful thought he’s ever missed out on, all at once.

Maybe Eddie doesn’t want to feel like everyone else, actually. Maybe, even now, it would just be better if he’s someone else.

x

Eddie loves smoking with Steve. They’re parked at the quarry, back van doors thrown open to let in the cool September breeze. It smells like the oncoming autumn–like earth and rain and decay, and it mixes with the smell of weed and makes Eddie sleepy and warm all the way down to his toes. He’s lying flat on his back with the joint stuck between his lips, trying and failing not to stare at Steve, who’s too close and too far at the same time. He’s mirroring Eddie’s position on top of the blanket, legs and arms all sprawled out and head tipped back, eyes closed.

The muscles in his neck are huge, and Eddie knows he’s gawking at him like a fucking idiot, but he can’t tear his gaze away. He loves smoking with Steve, because Steve gets all relaxed and loose and giggly when he’s high, and most of the time Eddie can watch him an abnormal amount without Steve catching on–but he also hates it. Eddie’s whole goddamn brain detaches from his body, and he feels syrupy slow and sweet, wants to kiss Steve so badly it’s like a physical pain.

“You gonna hog that all night, man?” Steve asks. His head tilts towards Eddie–he’s smirking a little, lips quirked up and eyebrows raised, and his eyes are so fucking–they have flecks of green and gold in them, so fucking beautiful, and Eddie’s breath catches in his throat on the way out. What the fuck was the question, again?

“Mmm?” Eddie breathes. He has no idea what they’re talking about, not when Steve is looking at him like that–like maybe he can sense the tension between them too, amused and affectionate and something else, soft, that Eddie can’t name. Steve holds his hand out, and Eddie just stares at it for a second until he realizes Steve is waiting for him to pass him the joint, jesus christ. Eddie laughs, can’t help it, and hands it over–he must be higher than he thought. That, or drunk on Steve’s clove smell and how close his arm is to brushing Eddie’s.

Steve takes the joint between his fingers. Eddie watches, entranced, as he brings it to his mouth and inhales, his lips touching the paper where Eddie’s mouth just was and–Eddie breathes in harshly, his belly tight and hot with arousal. Steve looks back at him, still smiling, and Eddie realizes too late that his mouth is open a little (please don’t be drooling, oh my god) and his eyes are probably dilated as fuck.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Steve says. Steve still has that fucking smile, but it’s wider now, deeper, curved with an almost-laugh and a bit smug–there’s no way he doesn’t see exactly what the fuck he’s doing to Eddie, but he hasn’t punched him or shoved him away or even discouraged him at all. Huh.

Eddie flushes hard and obvious, the burn in his cheeks spreading to his ears and probably every inch of skin he has. He clears his throat, holds his hand out for the joint again, but his hand is trembling a little.

“Like what?” Eddie asks, because he has to be fucking sure. He’s not going to assume anything, especially with Steve. Steve, instead of handing Eddie the joint, stubs it out on the van wall–Eddie shudders, watching him, his heart pounding and pounding against his ribcage.

“Hey,” Eddie says, though it’s not a real protest. Steve just meets his eyes, giving him this look that’s almost admonishing, and Eddie swallows so loud he’s positive Steve can hear it.

“You know like what,” Steve says. He scooches closer to Eddie on the floor, the joint stubbed out and forgotten, but they were pretty close already. All the body heat Eddie can feel radiating off him is fucking insane, and Eddie wants him so fucking bad it’s making his whole body shake. Steve reaches out, gaze never leaving Eddie’s face, and cups the back of Eddie’s neck with his big hand. “Can I?”

And there’s absolutely nothing else Steve can mean except can I kiss you right? Eddie expects to panic, to feel that uncomfortable squirming in his gut that tells him run run run, because it’s one thing to want someone and something totally other to have that person right in front of you, touching you–but the sick feeling never comes. Eddie’s eyes flutter closed. Steve’s in his space and touching him and is probably going to kiss him. Eddie nods hard and jerky–he doesn’t trust his voice to not come out completely wrecked.

Steve cups his free hand against Eddie’s cheek, tilting his face and rubbing a thumb across the skin there. Eddie’s breath stutters, Steve’s breath falls warm on his face–and then Steve is pressing his lips to Eddie’s, careful and so light. Steve pulls away after only a few seconds. Eddie makes a sound in his throat, grabs Steve by the striped polo he’s wearing and keeps him there. Steve doesn’t go far; he dips in again to bring their mouths together, laughing a little.

Read the rest on AO3.

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accidental eavesdropping (steddie ficlet)

based on this post by @imjust-that-shy. i hope i did this vision justice <3

The doors to the bathroom burst open, and - on some pure, inexplicable instinct and with nearly inhuman speed - Eddie darts back into the stall he'd just been about to come out of and leaps to perch on top of the toilet seat, crouched there like some sort of creature. 

He hears the sound of retching and the stench of vomit fills the air. He holds his breath, wrinkling his nose and trying to imagine what possible context could be behind Steve Harrington and Robin Buckley bursting in here together to puke their guts out. Eddie knows the two of them work together, he’s seen them sharing shifts at Scoops Ahoy when he's walked by. (Not that he often intentionally passes by the ice cream parlor and slows down just to catch a glimpse of Steve or anything… Although who could really blame him if he did? Like, come on, Steve in that uniform? Hello, sailor.) His mind is busy spinning stories of possible explanations, ranging from spoiled ice cream to sneaking alcohol and getting too drunk during their break. 

Eddie's leaning towards the 'drinking on the job' explanation, especially when the retching finally ceases and Robin says something about the room no longer spinning. Those little rebels, Eddie thinks approvingly.

“When’s the last time you, uh…peed your pants,” Steve is asking Robin now, in response to her telling him in a Russian accent to interrogate her. 

Eddie curls over his knees, tilting his head to try to peer through the gap between the stalls and the floor to put an image to his eavesdropping. Might as well, he’s kind of stuck here and there’s really not much else he can do right now. He can see Steve’s legs, one bent and the other stretched out in front of him, and Robin in the stall past him laying on the floor with her legs up against the stall wall as she answers, “Today…” 

“What?” Steve questions.

“When the Russian doctor took out the bone saw!” Robin says. 

Okay…what? Russian doctors and bone saws? Eddie’s now thoroughly intrigued, if a little (okay, a lot) confused. Maybe they’re talking about a movie they watched or something.

Steve’s legs shake with his laughter. “Oh my god.” 

“It was just a little bit, though.” Robin pinches her fingers together as she twists her body in Steve’s direction while he laughs again and mutters that whatever it is they took is still in her system. She pushes her feet off the stall and slides to sit against the opposite wall. Eddie can only see her legs now. “Okay, my turn. Have you…ever been in love?” 

Steve answers that he has, with Nancy, and makes a sound mimicking an explosion. Eddie remembers that, remembers seeing Steve and Nancy being all touchy and cute in the hallways at school while he was trying his damndest to convince himself that he absolutely definitely did not wish he was in Nancy’s place. It didn’t work very well. And it’s not working very well now either as Steve starts to go on about some new girl he likes now instead - some girl who’s funny and smart and can crack secret Russian codes (okay, seriously, what is it with these two and Russians?) and oh shit, he’s talking about Robin. 

Eddie very suddenly feels like he should not be here listening to this, eavesdropping on Steve confessing his feelings for someone. Not only is that, like, a private and personal thing, but also what if Robin likes him back and they start kissing or something right here in this bathroom where Eddie has to sit here and listen to it and that would just be horrible for him for so many reasons and- Eddie’s getting ahead of himself. Robin hasn’t even said anything yet, and her knees are pulled up to her chest and her voice shakes when she confirms she’s still alive after Steve asks if she’s OD’d there in the silence and she uncurls with a deep sigh. All signs that she doesn’t actually like Steve back. 

Eddie watches as Steve shifts and slides under the stall into Robin’s, and catches sight of the nasty bruise marring nearly half of Steve’s otherwise beautiful face as he does so. Now concern has been added to the list of emotions this eavesdropping experience has rollercoastered him through so far. The bruise looks fairly fresh and Eddie can’t help but wonder what the hell gave Steve a black eye like that and if he’s okay. 

After a brief spiral of concern for Steve’s face, Eddie tunes back into reality to find himself staring at Steve’s ass as Steve now sits with his back against the stall wall opposite Robin. Eddie blinks, expands his tunnel vision to include Steve’s lower back and Robin’s legs which are also visible beneath the gap in the stalls. 

“It’s not because I had a crush on you,” Robin is saying. “It’s because…she wouldn’t stop staring at you.”

“Mrs. Click?” Steve sounds confused.

“Tammy Thompson,” Robin clarifies. “I wanted her to look at me.”

Oh. Eddie should really not be listening to this. Robin is trying to come out to Steve, trying to share something deeply personal and vulnerable with him and only him, not knowing that she’s outing herself to an eavesdropping near-stranger as well. Eddie feels violating and intruding. He can’t imagine how he would feel if he found out someone he barely knew had been secretly listening in on him coming out - probably not great, probably terrified. This is something he shouldn’t know, not like this. 

“But Tammy Thompson’s a girl,” Steve says, his tone unreadable, and Eddie’s heart nearly stops, sure his own anticipatory anxiety is likely only just a fraction of what Robin must be feeling right now. 

“Steve…” 

“Yeah?” A pause. “Oh,” Steve’s voice goes soft. “Oh… Holy shit.” 

“Yeah,” Robin sighs. Eddie can see her hands nervously rubbing at her shins. “Holy shit.” 

Steve is silent for a few painfully long moments. Eddie’s hands curl nervously around his own shins. Is Steve going to be homophobic? Should Eddie be worried for Robin now? 

“Steve, did you OD over there?” Robin asks, trying to be light but Eddie can hear the anxiety in her voice. 

“No, I just, uh- just thinking,” Steve responds. 

“Okay…” Robin’s voice is barely audible. Eddie is holding his breath.

“I mean, yeah,” Steve says finally, “Tammy Thompson’s cute and all, but the only reason I never gave her the time of day was because I was too busy staring at Eddie Munson.” 

The aforementioned Eddie Munson releases the breath he’d been holding with an involuntary squeak and claps a hand over his mouth. Thankfully, neither of them heard him over the sound of Robin shouting. “What?! Eddie Munson?! You liked Eddie Munson?” she squawks, voicing Eddie’s own stunned thoughts perfectly.

“Yeah,” Steve confirms casually, completely unaware that he's throwing an eavesdropping Eddie into an absolute crisis right now. There's a soft thudding sound like Steve's hitting the back of his head against the stall wall. His voice gets kind of wistful, almost dreamy, as he says, “His rings, man. Rings and tattoos…and that long hair and those chains he'd wear… Honestly just his whole punk aesthetic thing had me mesmerized.” 

“Pretty sure he's metal, not punk,” Robin corrects him. 

Thanks, Robin. Also, what the fuck is happening right now? 

“Whatever. Still hot as hell,” Steve says. 

Eddie squeaks again and practically shoves his whole fist in his mouth to keep himself from making any more noise, his teeth knocking against his rings. The rings Steve likes, apparently. He feels like he's going to pass out, his heart beating so erratically it's making him lightheaded. King Steve - the popular, preppy, stupid, gorgeous, dumb jock Eddie's been crushing on since forever - just called him hot????  

“Did you hear that?” Robin asks suddenly, voice low and cautious. 

Shit. 

“Is anyone else in here?” Steve calls out. 

Fuck. 

Eddie bites down hard on his knuckles and holds his breath, going impossibly still. If they get up and search the bathroom, then he’s about to be caught red handed, crouched on top of a toilet seat with his fist in his mouth and his face flushed scarlet, eavesdropping on their private conversation about secret Russians and gay crushes. Eddie contemplates falling into the toilet and attempting to flush himself down it. Every god imaginable is receiving a silent prayer from him right now as he watches apprehensively through the gaps in the stall. One of those gods must've heard and taken pity on this poor gay disaster of a man crouched like a goblin in a bathroom stall, because after a few horrible seconds of silence, all Steve does is lean down to peer beneath the stalls for a moment before sitting back up and saying, “Looks empty. I think the drugs are making us hear things.” 

“Yeah, probably,” Robin says. Then she giggles, knocking her leg against Steve’s. “I still can’t believe you were into Eddie.” 

Steve flicks Robin’s knee. “I can’t believe you were into Tammy.”

“What’s wrong with Tammy?!” Robin protests.

“What’s wrong with Eddie?” Steve counters. “At least he’s actually got talent. Tammy’s a total dud - she wants to be a singer and shit but she can’t even hold a tune.” 

Eddie is going to die. He is actually going to die right here, right now, because Steve Harrington thinks he’s hot and talented. And then Steve starts mimicking Tammy, singing Total Eclipse of the Heart in a ridiculously goofy voice, and now Eddie is going to die because he finds that so stupidly endearing and adorable. Maybe he should just flush himself down the toilet, save himself from this hopelessly pathetic crush of his. Instead, he’s saved by the bathroom doors bursting open again and a new voice shouting at them, “Okay. What the hell?!” 

Steve and Robin collapse into a fit of giggles before being dragged to their feet by the newcomers and led out of the bathroom, leaving Eddie alone and reeling and struggling to process literally everything he’s just overheard. He finally hops down from his toilet perch and exits the stall like he’s in a daze. He’s not sure how long he had been camped out in there - probably only about ten minutes - but it felt like hours, so long that the world outside of that single bathroom stall almost feels foreign and unfamiliar now. 

Eddie grips the bathroom sink and stares at his flustered reflection in the mirror and whispers to himself, “What the actual fuck?” 

---

Later, years later, only after he and Steve are already dating, Eddie tells him all about this experience, and Steve laughs so hard he nearly cries.

[emurph-24]

joseph quinn behind the scenes of vol 2 of stranger things

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