#Eddie has a panic attack

[sp0o0kylights]

Eyes wide, body frigid in terror, Eddie felt the sheer horror of the current situation sank in. 

He was at Gen Con. 

In their hotel.

With zero vacant rooms and one minor, Henderson created, screw up.

The room only had one bed in it. 

“It’s fine, we can share.” Steve said, brushing past.

Like this was not the life ending, earth shattering, soul rendering issue that it was.

“I can sleep on the floor.” Eddie croaked trying to remember how a normal person acted instead of someone whose stomach had just fallen out of their ass. 

“Nah, I did this all the time with the basketball team.” Steve said as Eddie actively regretted every single decision that had led to this point in his life.

“Hell this is even a king sized bed. We have plenty of space!” 

Steve did a goofy little spin jump, landing butt first on the bed and bouncing on it with glee. 

“Space, sure.” Eddie echoed. 

Hands shaking, eyes determinedly focused on anything but the ex-jock, Eddie found himself chanting a mantra over and over in his head.

One that would valiantly get him through the next weekend, God and D20's willing.

'I'm fine, this is fine, everything's fine...'

“I don’t have cooties, if that's what you're worried about.”” Steve waggled his eyebrows. "Here,  I’ll even let you have one of my pillows.”  

Said pillow was flung through the air, to smack Eddie dead in the face. 

'Fuck it." Eddie thought wildly. "I am NOT fine!'

And after Eddie got his hands on him, Dustin Henderson wouldn't be either.

xXx

“I am going to kill you.” Eddie snarled, the very second he could get Dustin alone.

“No you won’t, you love me too much.” Henderson dismissed, a smug little smirk in place. 

The absolute brat. 

“I do not, and if I did, I would take it back after this.” Eddie glanced around once again, beyond paranoid about discussing this in the open parking lot of a shitty hotel, but knowing he needed to get this under control, now. 

“What were you thinking!?” 

“That I read a really interesting zine about this exact scenario, mostly.” Dustin shrugged. “Worked out great for them, I thought I’d try it for you!” 

Eddie groaned, head flying back as he fisted both hands in his hair.

(if only to prevent himself from wrapping both hands around Dustin’s stupid throat.) 

“What did I tell you? This isn’t something you fuck with man!” 

“I know, but as I told you, Steve is perfect!” Dustin protested, and didn’t even have the decency to flinch when Eddie lost control and grabbed him by the collar. 

“Perfect!?” He sputtered, actually sputtered, shaking the fist that held Dustin's shirt captive. “Perfect!?” 

“Trust me on this--you have a crush on him, he desperately needs someone in his life--seriously, Eddie, it’s sad how he acts when he’s not dating--and you guys get along great now! What’s the problem!?”

“He’s straight!” Eddie shrieked, startling several onlookers. 

“Laced!” He added immediately after, in panicked afterthought. “He’s so straight laced we could never get him to agree to that plan!” 

Dustin leveled an unimpressed look at him. 

“Dude, really?”

“We are still in Indiana, Henderson.” Eddie said, then got close enough that he felt comfortable hissing the next part through clenched teeth.

“They don’t exactly care for the queers here, even at a place like this.” 

“Are you sure? Because the Con’s welcome packet has a few different panels that--”

Eddie scrubbed a hand over his face, letting go of his idiot, freshman friend's shirt to grab at his hair again. 

“Henderson, for once,” He pleaded, and maybe it was the sheer desperation in his tone or how upset he looked but either way Dustin seemed to finally realize how serious he was.

“just once, I need you to listen to me. You cannot let Steve know I’m gay. This is something that has to stay between us, especially now I’m sharing a bed with him.” 

Which Dustin knew, because Dustin was the one who’d called and changed the room. 

“But Steve’s--”

“Most likely bisexual, I heard you the first several times you said it, but you can’t just--assume that about someone!” Eddie was well and good on a rant now, two seconds away from pacing about. “Even if you’ve been to a salon with them!” 

He pointed firmly at Dustin’s stupid face (and the kid's equally stupid mouth) before he could once again insist Steve was into men purely based on how anal he was about his hair.

“Steve might be cool with--other people,” Eddie was unsure of who knew what about Robin, and was not about to hand Dustin another secret given how he was acting about this one, “but that does not mean he will be cool with me--or you, pimping him out, to me!” 

“I’m not pimping him out!” Offended, Dustin patted at his shirt where Eddie had previously been holding it. “Look I’m sorry, but--”

Eddie groaned, loud and dramatic. 

“But,” Dustin doubled down, “You trusted me with the whole, you know.” He waved his hands in some sort of vague, unreadable gesture. “Can’t you trust me about this?”

“I didn’t trust you with that, you barged into my room and then dug around my closet insisting your character notes got mixed in with mine when I was hi-sleeping!--and then read something personal!” 

The snort he got in return let him know Dustin was well aware he’d been high as hell, but that was neither here nor there, given what had happened after. 

When Dustin, rifling through Eddie’s closet, came across one of Eddie’s private notebooks. 

The ones that contained equally private stories, penned by Eddie's hand.

One of which might have had characters--who did not sound like Steve, thank you,-- and definitely not paired with a character based on Eddie himself. 

(“So Sir Sylvan Harrachtáin and Edwin Morningson are random names you pulled out of your ass, huh?”

“Shut up.”

“Sir Sylvan with his great hair and--what’s this? A horse named…Beamer?”

“Henderson so help me--” ) 

It may have led to the two of them growing closer instead of Eddie getting chased out of town with pitchforks, but that hadn’t stopped the sheer panic it had caused when he realized just what it was Dustin was reading. 

“Potato, tomato.” The little shit dismissed, and Eddie felt the urge to strangle him return in full force. “Look I get it--I promised I wouldn’t tell and I keep my promises. But since there aren’t any other rooms in our inn…”

Eddie looked at the sky, because if he saw the little dipshit wiggle his eyebrows in relation to himself and Steve Harrington, his new friend, who baked cookies with Jeff and once helped Grant jump his car, Eddie was going to lose his mind.

Loudly, and with much fanfare. 

“You owe me. Big time.” He declared to the clouds. 

He pretended not to hear the sigh that got him, either. 

“If you so say. Now can we go to the convention?" A whine crept into Henderson's voice. "Steve’s going to think we’re fighting.”

"Fine.” Eddie finally lowered his head to glare Dustin dead in the eyes.

“But to make my ire clear, Henderson? That magic sword your dwarf just acquired is gone. Disappeared. Vanished like a puff of smoke."

He made a ‘proof’ noise, hands spreading out as he did it. 

Dustin’s jaw dropped.

“What!? Eddie--” 

“Nope.

“Edd-iieeeee--”

“I’m not listening.” He plunged both fingers in his ears, walking determinedly towards one of the other three hotel rooms Hellfire had crammed themselves in. 

Wished desperately that he could manage to swap beds with Jeff, or Grant, or someone without making Steve feel like shit--which it would, because Eddie knew things like that about Steve now.

Behind him Dustin rampaged, which at least, made Eddie a little happier.

xXx

“We can switch rooms.” 

“What?” Eddie asked, startled out of his present thoughts (and the giant pile of D&D related papers spread in a circle around him.)

He turned to look up at Steve, who was hovering awkwardly behind him.

“You’ve been weird ever since you realized we’re sharing a bed. If it’s making you that uncomfortable we can just switch.” He shrugged, like saying that didn’t hurt him, even as the kicked puppy look holding court on his face very much screamed ‘emotional damage.’

"I have not!” Eddie twisted himself around immediately. "I am perfectly fine, thank you!"

Steve frowned down at him. 

“Eddie, this is the longest conversation I’ve had with you since we got here." Steve deadpanned. "I’d blame that on the whole, you know, nerd herd gathering, but it’s pretty clear that’s not it. I watched you literally turn around and walk the other way when you spotted me earlier." 

Shit.

"It's kinda obvious you're avoiding me." 

Shit, shit, shit!

“I'm not, promise!" Eddie lied. "I’m just--distracted. There’s just so much happening and it’s--a lot.”

He said it like the con was overwhelming, and not chaos he was positively thriving in. 

Steve searched his face.

“Alright," He said doubtfully, "but I mean it. Say the word and we can switch. I'm sure Jeff'll let me share a blanket or something."

Which was the last thing anybody needed, on grounds that Jeff would try and fix things.

(Jeff, bless him, had never been good at fixing things.)

Drumming up every acting skill he possessed, Eddie flashed two thumbs up in response, painting a fat grin on his face.

“We're all good Stevie. Besides, I’m going to be up late at so many panels, you won’t even notice me coming back. You're practically gonna have the room to yourself!"

Because that was exactly what he was planning on doing, the second he realized the convention itself could provide a nice, neat little way out in the form of two different late night panels.

Who needed sleep anyway? Not him!

"Okay." Steve said, somewhat mollified.

Crisis averted, Eddie dove back into his plans, distracting himself as best he could while trying to ignore that Steve had dropped onto the bed.

(One of those plans might have involved revenge on Henderson, and that one he gave special attention to.)

xXx

There were no late nigh panels.

“Not until tomorrow, my friend!” The jovial guy dressed in what Eddie was pretty sure was supposed to be a wizard costume told him. “We had a few but the folks running them got stuck in traffic, so we had to cancel."

He beamed, like he hadn’t just disintegrated Eddie's one and only escape plan.

"Besides, if you go to sleep now you can catch some of the early morning panels!”

As if he hadn't planned on rolling into them anyway, lack of sleep be damned.

“Can we go back now?” Gareth grumped to his right, the only person who’d agreed to stay out all night with him (and who was not a 14 year old who’d been overruled by Harrington.) 

"We could go find a room party?" Eddie hedged instead, as they made their retreat.

"Dude."

"Fine," He muttered, defeated. "We can go back."

To Steve. 

And the single bed. 

In his head, he plotted out Henderson's death.

Maybe he'd use fire.

Or sticks, or even a fricken--toy horse, or something...

xXx

He'd done it.

Changed into the oversized shirt he called sleep clothes, and crawled into bed like a completely normal, totally straight human being.

Had even done a remarkable job of laying perfectly still. Exactly how a normal, not panicking person slept!

'I'm fine, this is fine, everything's fine...'

Steve was laying next to him.

He had to of course, that's how a bed worked, and yet somehow, Eddie couldn't get past it.

Or the fact that the dick wasn't wearing a shirt to bed.

His thoughts chased each other in nervous little circles, anxiety gnawing on his gut like a favored bone as Eddie did his best not to move one single inch.

Pity that the thing about attending a large convention, was the sheer amount of walking, talking, and expending general energy one had to do.

Entirely against his will, Eddie fell asleep. 

He had been planning on laying awake in frigid terror all night, to prevent any possible way Steve might clock him, but his body had other plans.

Some of which involved sleeping like Eddie normally slept--arms hugging a pillow, head buried in it's soft, comfortable, kinda ticklish surface.

He rubbed his nose further into it as the tickling sensation increased, pulling him away from the sleep he hadn't realized he'd fallen into.

Grumbling, Eddie went to adjust his stupid pillow when he had the weirdest realization that it too, was moving.

Pillows, his sleep addled brain informed him, did not move.

Steve would, though.

"Fuck!" He screeched, flying up into a sitting position as he registered that he'd gone full octopus--cuddling Steve with all four limbs.

Steve flew awake, his own body flying up into a sitting position.

His mouth started moving a mile a minute, and it took Eddie a second to parse that Steve was still partially asleep as he let out a string of absolute nonsense about code reds and being upside down.

"Whoa!" Eddie said when the guy nearly fell out of bed. "Shit Steve, it's just me!"

"Eddie?" Steve asked, halfway out of bed. "Are we--is everything okay?"

"Yeah I--yeah." He grimaced, grabbing a strand of his hair and pulling it protectively over his face. "I think I woke you up."

"S'okay." Steve ran a hand through his hair, before slowly sinking back into the bed, alarm fading. "Are you okay? Nightmare?"

Eddie blew out a breath.

"Probably. It's fine, don't worry about it."

Steve eyed him doubtfully.

"If you're sure..."

Eddie gave him a wobbly smile back, patting the space on the bed next to him as he made himself lay back down. "Promise. I'm--I'm sorry, I guess maybe I should have slept elsewhere..."

That did it.

"You're good. Startled me is all." Steve let out a sort of forced chuckle before laying back down. "I overreacted."

Eddie hummed, not trusting himself to say anything as the two of them settled back down.

It did not escape him that unlike most people who'd been rudely woken up in the middle of the night, Steve didn't try to keep any distance between them.

No, he had to scoot closer, like he needed to know his friend was near. 

Eddie squeezed his eyes closed and prayed for death.

"I get nightmares too, sometimes." Steve admitted in the following quiet and oh, God, no, Eddie could not do an emotional late night talk right now.

"They definitely suck." He said flatly, before rolling over to face the opposing wall. "Night Stevie."

Steve snorted, but it sounded amused instead of hurt.

Eddie sighed quietly in relief as he too, turned away to face the wall.

He could do this. He just had to make sure he didn't screw up and fall asleep again, and everything would be...

Perfectly...

...fine.

xXx

"--ddie, you're on my arm man."

"Wha?"

"My arm." That was Steve, Eddie's brain dutifully identified as it crawled it's way to consciousness. Steve who was his friend now, and was also talking very close to his ear. 

"Also my leg. And torso."

"You have a nice torso." Eddie mumbled thoughtlessly. 

Why was Steve here? They were doing something that should have been stressing him out, was stressing him out, but it was hard to think when he was this tired.

"Thanks," Amusement threaded it's way through Steve's voice, "but I'm going numb here. You have a hell of a grip."

Eddie frowned, the words sludging through the fog, until finally, the dots connected.

Eyes opening wide, he carefully took stock of the position he once again found himself in--wrapped around Steve like the guy was the only life raft left.

Oh my God.

"Shit sorry--" Steve oof'ed as Eddie smacked an elbow into his ribs as he let the poor man go, madly scrambling to get as far away as possible.

He tried to apologize for that, but was too busy fighting the bedsheets to get anything out. 

"Eds." Steve laughed, grabbing him as Eddie tangled them both up. "Calm down."

"I'm calm!" He protested, far too loudly, limbs flying every which way as he tried in vein to get the fuck away.

Stupid sheets-!

"Eddie." Two heavy hands came down on his shoulders, Steve having managed to get himself into a sitting position. "It's alright."

"It's not Steve." Eddie spat, and then panicked harder because fuck, that is not what he should have said.

"Hey, easy." Steve was talking quieter now, hands squeezing gently, like Eddie was some kind of spooked wild animal and fuck, he was really losing it here.

"I mean it. We're at the convention, remember? We're sharing a hotel room and you have a bunch of dorks and dumbass things to do in like, two hours."

Eddie violently shrugged him off.

"I know that!"

Steve, somehow, did not take offense to the very aggressive tone that had been snarled in. 

"Then you know you can breath for a moment. Seriously, you look like you're gonna pass out."

Which was probably true, given the rapid, rabbiting beat of his heart.

"Is this what you were worried about?" Steve added, as Eddie finally freed himself from the damn sheets. "That you have nightmares?"

“It's not nightmares.” Eddie spat instantly, chest heaving.

His head hurt, his eyes hurt, and he was exhausted to the point where he wanted to cry about it.

God did being gay suck.

“Then--what? That you cuddle in your sleep?” Steve was teasing, Eddie knew Steve was teasing but that was too on the nose. “Dude trust me, Tommy was an octopus growing up. I don’t care.”

“No it’s not, that, exactly--”

"So what is it then, exactly?"

Too. Fucking. Close.

"Drop it Steve--"

Emotions rose like a tidal wave, all encompassing. Overwhelming. 

"I would if you weren't clearly upset about something--" 

He lost control. 

“I’m gay!” Eddie yelled.

Then he clapped a hand over his mouth, like he hadn’t just panicked himself out of the closet. 

It died. 

The crazy, huge emotions. The way he'd been fighting himself, tooth and nail, the panicked thoughts that were zooming around his brain.

“I didn’t say that.” He said, eyes wide.

Steve blinked.

“I mean, you kinda did.”

Eddie shook his head.

“Nope. No. I said, I said--”

“That you’re gay.” Steve finished, then frowned when Eddie flinched. “Dude it’s okay--”

“Is it, Steve!?” He interrupted, hand finally falling from his mouth. “Is it? Because if you ask half the people at this convention--who are my kind of people and understand I’m not shilling souls to satan--if it's okay!? They'd say no!"

Tears pressed against his eyes, a reaction he hated that he had.

"They'd say no, and then they'd try to kick my ass for sleeping in the same bed as them!" 

A tear escaped and he swiped angrily at it. 

“I’m okay with it.” Steve said quietly, which had the effect of making Eddie shut up. “And those people suck.” 

The laugh that escaped Eddie's mouth was brittle.

Bitter.

He turned his head away from Steve, angry that he’d gone and admitted the very thing he knew better than ever speaking aloud. 

“Yeah well, I didn't think you would be, given how you used to accuse anyone and everyone of being a queer loser right along with the rest of the basketball team.”

Which wasn't fair, exactly--Eddie knew Steve had changed. Had seen it in the way he and Robin talked quietly about Will, when they thought no one could overhear.

(A habit Eddie would break them of, if he and Steve made it out of here as friends, still.) 

He wasn't Will though, and Will wasn't the one presently sharing a bed with Steve.

“That’s because we were all making out with each other at away games.” It was said so fucking quick Eddie briefly thought he hallucinated it.

Lucky for him, Steve wasn't done. 

“Robin thinks that whole thing was some kind of group denial. Like if we made enough of a thing out of it we could all pretend we didn’t have our hands down each others pants all the time. I am not exactly on speaking terms with that group anymore.”

He shrugged like that his fall from grace hadn’t been the center of the rumor mill for most of his senior year, and came with a lot of shit talking at his expense.

“But I can still prove it to you, if you’d like.” 

Shock--and six million thoughts-- hit Eddie like a mack truck. 

‘You’re lying/No way/that makes so much fucking sense/how did that even start/was it every game/whose pants exactly did you have your hands down and how do you feel about my pants--’ 

“How?” Eddie got out, sounding only slightly strangled. 

“Well--you’re here. I’m here."

And then Steve gave him a smile Eddie had only ever seen aimed at women, a slow lazy curl of the mouth that implied a hell of a lot.

"I'm fine with making the math work."

Maybe he was dreaming this.

(Eddie pinched himself and found that somehow, he was not.)

“I realize I don’t look like it, but I don't the whole casual kissing thing." Eddie blurted out. "Hasn't exactly gone well for me."

He regretted it the second it left his mouth. 

That was sharing too much of himself. The vulnerable gooey part who'd kissed a few girls (and even, once, a guy) and found he couldn't for the life of him make such things casual.

Plus Steve was kind of a good friend now, and Eddie had a crush so big that doing this and then never doing it again would kill him, and--

(and, and, and…) 

“It can mean something if you’d like.”

What.

“What?” 

Eddie stared at him.

Steve stared back. 

“Steve Harrington." He said flatly. "Are you trying to get in my pants?”

‘I will rip them off right here and now if you are,’ He thought wildly, like he hadn’t just tried to die on some “it has to be meaningful” hill. 

(Sue him, he was a horny teenager who'd just learned sex might be on the table, he could change his mind.

It totally wouldn’t tear his heart apart after either!

Nope, not his, made of steel Eddie’s heart was--) 

Steve raised his hands in the “don’t shoot” pose, looking all too pleased with himself. 

“Hey, you can’t fault a guy for trying. But,” and here he dropped the flirty little grin, which Eddie was only now realizing he was utilizing, “I meant it. I'm not opposed to trying this out, with you."

Trying? What the hell did that mean!?

Steve hadn't stopped talking.

"I won’t take it anywhere if you don’t want to though, don't worry.

Then he tilted his head and added; “I can also leave if that made you uncomfortable. Robin keeps telling me I can’t flirt with men like I flirt with women and--” 

“No.” Eddie’s mouth betrayed him yet again, terrified Steve might talk himself into leaving. “No--you offered!”

Steve raised an eyebrow.

“I did.”

“To have--” God Eddie couldn’t even say the words, “with me?” 

Somehow that last part came out as a question, and Eddie planned immediately to throw himself out of a window.

The grin was coming back. “Yes. With you.” 

“And it would…mean something?”

That was pushing it, Eddie knew that was pushing it, but it was like he couldn't stop himself.

This whole thing was now a runaway train and he'd ride it to it's inevitable wreck.

“For me it would.” Steve said, raising himself up on his knees. 

He inched forward, planting his hands down on the bed, face awfully close to Eddie’s own. 

“I don't like doing things anymore without it meaning something. To be honest, I don’t think I ever did. Besides, Robin's right."

"About?" Eddie asked, goin cross-eyed as Steve leaned ever so much closer.

"That when I say I admire you, or I miss you, or that I want to see you, I'm not exactly meaning it in a friend way."

Oh.

"Oh." Eddie said dumbly.

Steve closed the distance, mouth first. 

They were kissing.

Stars exploded in the sky. Fireworks went off outside, birds sang, people cheered--

(Eddie bit Steve’s lip, twice, in some sort of overexcited maneuver before he was gently guided into Steve’s lap, the ex-jock twisting to lay back down and bringing Eddie with him. 

It was smoothly done, a slow maneuver, and Eddie had to go and ruin that too by ripping his mouth off Steve’s to press sloppy kisses all down his neck. 

Thankfully Steve did not shove him off for that, or the hickie he definitely left on that stupid, tan neck, instead arranging them once again until things, finally, started to be less frantic. 

It was the best night of Eddie's life.)

xXx 

“So what does mean something involve, in this little situation we have here?” Eddie said some odd amount of time later, cuddled happily against a now naked Harrington. 

“I’m not supposed to say boyfriends.” Steve mumbled into Eddie’s shoulder. “Scares people off."

Apparently he was the type to need naps immediately after having the naked kind of fun. 

“Who the fuck told you that?” Eddie reached down, lacing their hands together tightly.

Steve kissed his shoulder. 

“We haven’t even gone on a proper date yet.” He said, rather than responding directly.

“We can’t, Steve, or did you forget where we live?”

Another kiss, this one turning into a grin when it made Eddie shudder. 

“Oh we absolutely can. I’ll prove it to you. Next Friday?” 

It took him a moment--a stupidly long moment, for someone who prided himself as a wordsmith--but Eddie got it. 

A smile exploded over his face. 

“Next Friday." He said. "It’s a date.” 

(A very long time later, Henderson would find out about all this and gloat about this so hard he’d fall off the steps of Eddie’s trailer. 

Eddie would only let him live on grounds that Steve was also there at the time, and was worried about Dustin’s ankle.

This did not stop Eddie from standing above the little shit, announcing karma would one day get him soon, and if not, than Max Mayfield, who absolutely could be bribed into committing murder.)

This was the bonus for Door Prize/Sugar, Spice (and Everything Dicey) which can be read in it's entirely here: LINK

[artieseni]

treyarch!!! make eddie a pathetic little meow meow like primis ricky and my life! is yours!! also give us the homoerotic subtext

reference! dempsey finally snaps and beats up richtofen but then ricky pulls out his goofy smile and dempsey's annoyed he can't control his fluttering heart ok ty bye

[makorragal-312]

Manifesting Buck holding Eddie's hand when they're in the helicopter and Eddie putting his thumb on Buck's pulse when they're on the ship.

[estrellami-1]

Don’t Let Go

“Fuck- oh, shit, Steve, what-” Robin collapses to the ground next to him, worried hands waving frantically around his body, unsure how to help. “Okay, okay, hey, it’s alright, take a breath, Steve, you’ll be okay.”

He retches again. Watches, detached, as red streaks into the bowl. “Oh, shit,” he hears Robin whisper. “That- that’s blood. Okay. Okay, this is fine, we’re okay. I don’t- I don’t really know how to help you, Steve, I’m trying to stay calm, I swear, but you know how easily I get worked up and-” she shuts her mouth and takes a few deep breaths. “Steve? Can I touch you?”

He tries to think about it. Tries to think about anything other than the memories flashing through his head. Nods.

She breathes out a shaky, grateful sigh. “Okay, good, that’s good, thank you. Um, I’m gonna- my hand. I’m gonna put it on your back, okay? I’m just gonna rub a bit. Just like this. Try to match your breathing, okay? When I rub up, you breathe in. When I rub down, you breathe out. No pressure, just nice, slow breaths, okay? Here, up, so in, breathe in. Now down, so breathe out. In, out. Easy does it, Steve-o, you’re alright.” She grabs a wad of toilet paper and brings it to Steve’s face. “Let’s clean you up a little, yeah? Any chance you wanna tell me what that was about?”

He lets her clean his face off, takes a shuddering breath, and bursts into tears.

“Oh, Jesus- okay, hey, alright, Steve, it’s okay. I’m right here. Is me touching you still okay?”

Her touching him is usually fine. He’d say always—if he could speak—but there have been times he’s reacted so unfavorably to her touch… it’s for the best she asks. Even if the majority of the time, the answer is yes.

The answer is yes tonight, as well, but words are too difficult when he’s trying not to drown in his own tears, so he tips sideways into her, lets her hold his weight up as she rubs his back and arm, comforting him. “That’s okay, Steve. It’s alright. We’re fine. I do think we should talk about this one, though, it hasn’t hit you that hard in a while. Which I know is kinda hypocritical, I mean I’ve slept over every night for like the last month in a row. So I get it. But I do think talking about it could be good. But, uh, we’ll wait a bit. Let you calm down some first.”

He does eventually calm down, at least enough to try to talk, and he does, disjointedly telling Robin about the nightmare. He doesn’t know where to start, and she shushes him. “Start with whatever you can. Baby steps. Small things, one at a time.”

He shudders. It’s not a small thing, the thing taking up every inch of his brain, it’s so big and consuming and taking over and- “So much,” he manages. “So much blood. Thought- thought it was mine. ‘N maybe some of it was, I dunno, but it was Dustin, a-and E-” he breaks off, heaves, manages to take a breath somehow, and the name doesn’t stick in his throat. “Eddie. I was- I was too late, Robs, too late, he was- I tried, I tried, there was so much blood, he- he looked at me and-”

Robin shushes him again, pulls him closer and wraps her arms around him, rocks them back and forth. “‘S alright, Steve, hey, take a breath, c’mon. One big one, I know you can, just one breath for me.”

He manages a medium-sized breath, enough to make Robin happy, enough to make the lump in his throat recede some, enough to let him finish. “He said it’s okay. That- that he didn’t expect me to save him- to care- and I- Robs. I- I kissed him.” He vaguely realizes he’s trembling.

“Oh, Steve,” she murmurs, rubbing her hand up and down his back again. “Can- can I ask if you’ve, uh, thought about that before?”

Steve sniffles, ducks his head, nods. “I’ve had a few dreams. Not nightmares. J-just, like, little things. Sitting together on the couch talking about nothing, going on dates, cuddling in bed and- I do want it, but Robs, I- I can’t, I can’t, he’s gone-” and Steve’s gone, collapsing into sobs again, not even hearing Robin as she’s trying to tell him something.

He notices when she moves away, and he lets her, because somewhere in his subconscious he remembers how she is about touch, and how sometimes it’s too much. So she moves away and he stays on the floor in the bathroom, sobbing.

She’s back a few minutes later, a comforting hand on his back. “Hey, Steve, shh, you’ve gotta calm down a little, which I know isn’t helpful but you’re gonna throw up again if you keep going, and then I’m gonna freak out even more, and then where’re we gonna be? We’re both gonna be freaking out and no help to each other. Hey, slow breaths, it’s alright, copy my hand again, yeah? Up and down, in and out, okay?”

She moves suddenly, says, “Oh, thank God you’re here, I’m useless, here,” and moves completely out of Steve’s space.

She moves back in again a second later, except it’s not Robin, the hands are different, bigger, and he stiffens up, lifts his head, and freezes when he sees who it is. “Eddie,” he breathes, and Eddie gives him a small smile.

“Hey, Steve. You doin’ alright?”

“Eddie,” Steve whispers again, so relieved he can’t bring himself to care about how he normally acts, just burrows into Eddie.

And Eddie lets him, opens his legs to give Steve a stable place to sit, lets Steve tuck his head in Eddie’s shoulder, even puts a hand on Steve’s head. “‘S alright,” he murmurs. “I don’t really know what you dreamed about but it’s okay, I swear, I’ve got some sort of idea it was about me but I’m fine, I swear, I’m okay, got a little chewed up but you got me out. We’re okay, we’re fine. I promise.” He rubs his other hand up and down Steve’s back, like Robin had been doing, and Steve does his best to follow the pattern, except Eddie’s rubbing his back a little too fast, and all he feels is the panic coming back.

Suddenly Eddie stops rubbing. “Oh- oh, Stevie, I’m sorry,” he murmurs, then continues rubbing, slower. “Robin told me you were trying to match your breathing to my hand rubbing your back. It’s a good idea, and I’m- I’m proud of you for initiating it. Here we go, nice and slow, in and out.”

Eventually Steve’s breathing slows back down enough for him to say something. “Sorry.”

Eddie hums. “What? Sorry? What for?”

“You havin’a come out here.”

“That’s not something you ever need to apologize for,” Eddie tells him seriously. “Hey. Can you look at me?”

Steve manages to lift his head and look Eddie in the eye for a few seconds. “There you are,” Eddie whispers with a soft smile. “It’s alright, Steve. I’ll always be here if you need me, m’kay? Now, how about we get off the bathroom floor?”

“Yeah,” Steve agrees, moving out of Eddie’s space and trying to stand, only to collapse again. “Fuck, sorry,” he mutters. “Legs’re asleep.”

“That’s alright, you’re not too heavy, c’mon, I gotcha. You wanna brush your teeth real quick?”

Steve notices the taste in his mouth for the first time and makes a face as he nods, moving with Eddie’s help over to the sink. “Grab on here,” Eddie says quietly. “I’ll be right back, okay?”

“M’kay.” He brushes his teeth, looking down at the sink, hearing Eddie bustle around as he flushes the remainder of Steve’s nightmare and disappears back into the room for a moment, drawers opening and closing before Eddie make a reappearance, standing this side of too close. Steve welcomes it, finishes brushing his teeth and leans back into Eddie when he’s done. “Not sure I can sleep,” he murmurs, not looking in the mirror. He doesn’t want to confirm how he knows Eddie’s looking at him. He knows, if he meets Eddie’s eyes, he’ll see pity.

“D’you wanna try? Or just wanna head downstairs? We can watch shitty movies and make fun of the acting.”

He thinks about it. Thinks about laying back down, the dark creeping in, being unable to see Eddie even if he knows he’s looking directly at him. His breath sticks in his throat. “Dow- downstairs. Please.”

“M’kay. Wanna bring Robin?”

“No. She’s gotta shift t’morrow morning. Needs to sleep.”

“So do you,” Eddie murmurs, enough levity in his voice it doesn’t sound judgmental. “Wanna bring anything downstairs?”

Steve sighs as he tries to think. “Don’t think so.”

“Okay. You ready to go then?”

“Yeah.” He doesn’t move.

“Stevie?”

“Yeah.” He takes a shuddering breath. “I don’t- I can’t-” he shakes his head, makes a bitten-off, frustrated noise. “Don’t wanna let go.”

“‘S okay. You don’t have to.” A hand appears in his field of view, palm-up, open and inviting. He takes it. “Is this enough for now? Till we get downstairs?”

Steve thinks about it, then nods, squeezing once as Eddie steps away, leaving their hands linked. “Sorry,” he mutters again, even though he knows Eddie’s going to tell him to stop apologizing. “Dunno why I’m like this.”

Eddie chuckles softly. “Pretty sure you get a free pass to act like this as much as you want, Stevie. You’ve been through hell more’n anyone ever should.” He tugs on their joined hands, a small smile hovering on his lips. “And quit apologizing.”

“No promises,” Steve says instead of what he wants to. I’m like this because it was you. Because I love you. Because I’m too much of a coward to say anything.

Eddie stills like he hears it all anyways. All he does is wrap his free hand around Steve’s wrist, gripping for a moment before releasing him, gently tugging him out of the bathroom.

Robin’s sitting up in bed, lamp on, waiting for him. He feels bad, but still too shaken up to release Eddie. “Sorry for keeping you up.”

She glances over at Eddie with a flick of her eyebrows, and he snickers as she looks back at Steve. “Don’t apologize, dingus. I’m glad you’re okay. I’ll see you in the morning?”

He nods, tries to smile. “Love you, Robbie.”

“Gross,” she says with a smile, but grabs his free hand as they walk by. “Love you too.”

They get downstairs and Eddie stops by the TV. “Wanna watch something?”

Steve thinks about it. Thinks about the movies he owns, the way he’s feeling, and shakes his head. “Want some water.”

Eddie chuckles. “Probably should’ve been my first thought. Whaddya wanna do after?”

Steve shrugs. “Just… don’t wanna be alone.”

Eddie looks at him for a long moment before pulling him into a hug. He realizes, as his nose mashes into Eddie’s shoulder, he’d been curling into himself. “C’mon,” Eddie murmurs. “Water then couch, m’kay?”

Steve nods, wrapping his hands around Eddie’s waist, letting his eyes close as he tucks his face into the juncture of Eddie’s neck and shoulder. His hair tickles Steve’s forehead. He doesn’t move, just relaxes, tightening his hold when Eddie starts to move them.

“Gotta move for a second,” Eddie murmurs eventually. “Can’t drink the water with your face mushed into my neck. And the last thing you want right now is a dehydration headache.”

Steve knows he’s right, can already feel the tightening that means a headache is coming on, and reluctantly untangles himself, holding out a hand for the glass. It wobbles dangerously when it’s in his grip, and Eddie’s hand comes back to wrap around the glass, overlapping Steve’s fingers, steadying him. “Easy does it,” he murmurs, guiding the glass up to Steve’s lips. “A little at a time.”

Steve drinks slowly, allowing Eddie to take the glass after a few sips, only for him to put it down and pick something else up. A pill, he sees when Eddie brings his hand closer, and he’s at least steady enough to hold that and slip it into his mouth, and by the time he does Eddie’s got the water back up by his face again. “Thank you,” Steve murmurs eventually, instead of the I’m sorry that wants to come out.

Eddie smiles, small and fond. “My pleasure. Couch?”

Steve nods, so they walk over together, Eddie placing the water on the side table before arranging them on the couch. He sits down first, then tugs Steve almost on top of him, a gentle hand on his neck guiding Steve’s head back to his shoulder.

They sit in silence for a few minutes, Eddie’s fingers running up and down Steve’s spine, before he breaks the silence. “Wanna tell me what happened? All Birdie said was you had a nightmare and thought I was, uh. Gone.”

Steve heaves a sigh. “That’s pretty much it. You and Dustin, but you especially, and I… I dunno. And it wasn’t even one of those dreams that made sense, or anything, it’s just all of a sudden there I was, and there was so much blood, and I think some of it was mine but I was fine, Dustin was in bad shape but was gonna make it, but you…” he shakes his head. “Told me you didn’t expect me to save you, didn’t think I’d care, and that was the most ridiculous thing I’d ever heard you say so I kissed you, and you… you died. Didn’t say anything. Just… there one second, gone the next, like I had killed you.”

“Well,” Eddie says, “I can definitely see how that would’ve freaked you out. Especially given that you’re straight. Which! Is not the point. Sorry. Um.”

Steve shrugs. “Not really. Um. Straight, that is.”

Eddie freezes. “No?”

“No.” Steve shifts away, hates the feeling of Eddie’s hand slipping off his back, but hates the thought of Eddie being uncomfortable because of him even more. “I like both. Um. Like Bowie? Robin told me that’s a thing.”

Eddie chuckles. “That it is, Stevie. Thanks for telling me.”

Steve shoots him a look. “You’re okay with it?”

Eddie frowns. “It would be kinda hypocritical of me to not be, wouldn’t it?”

Steve waves a hand around. “Not that. The fact that I like you, and had a dream that freaked me out and you came over and oh my god, all of that was false pretenses, wasn’t it, fuck, I’m sorry, Eddie, I swear I wasn’t thinking about that, the- the dream really did freak me out, and I-”

“Steve,” Eddie says, putting a hand on his forearm. “Hey. Calm down before you spiral into another panic attack, alright? It’s fine. Doesn’t bother me in the least.” He lets out a breathless chuckle. “Actually, I guess that would be kinda hypocritical of me, too.”

Steve blinks. “What would?”

“Me freaking out about you liking me.” He stares for a moment before looking away, huffing a laugh and shaking his head. “I had the most unfortunate crush on you in high school. Admittedly, then it was purely based on looks. But then Spring Break from hell happened, and I learned you’re actually a really good guy, and the crush transitioned into something more than just surface-level.” He holds out a hand, palm up, waiting for Steve.

Steve stares at it, then lifts his gaze to Eddie’s face. “You… like me?”

“I do.”

A shy smile begins to grow on Steve’s face as he ignores Eddie’s outstretched hand in favor of leaning back in, setting his head back on Eddie’s shoulder and sliding his arm around Eddie’s waist. He smiles as Eddie chuckles and wraps an arm around his back. “Can we talk about it tomorrow?” Steve asks quietly. “About what we want to do and be?”

“We can wait as long as you want,” Eddie promises. “Just as long as tonight, we can stay right here.”

Steve giggles quietly. “Deal.” He’s silent for a few seconds before the giggles start again. “Robin’s gonna be so pissed I got a boyfriend before she got a girlfriend.”

Permanent Taglist:

@justforthedead89 @ilovecupcakesandtea @madigoround @bookbinderbitch @suddenlyinlove

Side note, I may be convinced to do a part 2 to this if anyone wants it… I don’t know what that part 2 would entail but if y’all want it (or anything really, my asks are always open) let me know! Thanks for reading! ❤️

[stevesbipanic]

Steve can usually feel the beginning of an anxiety attack before it happens.

For him it's the slight uptick in his heart rate, it reminds him of that night in the junkyard, adrenaline starting to pump through his veins, survive just survive. For him it's the slight tingle in his fingers, instinctively flexing them as if that will dispel the energy from them. For him it's the fight or flight part of his brain turning back and forth, the part that reminds him to breathe just keep breathing, in out in out.

Ever the man of action, Steve always has a plan, even for this. Breathe, keep breathing, the air will keep your head on straight a little longer. It's better when he's at home, at home he can go get his big sweater, the one that wraps him in warmth and safety and headphones to play his mixtapes that remind him of his family. At work he has the backroom, a heavy blanket on the shelf always waiting for him.

Robin is part of his plan some days. She can't wrap herself around him like the sweater or the blanket, the touch would stress her out and a stressed out Robin is no help to Steve. Robin can talk though, a steady stream of words, a point of focus, a reminder of where he is, who he's with.

His favourite way of chasing away the thrum of run run run fight fight fight breathe breathe breathe, is Eddie. Eddie who he doesn't have to tell anything for him to notice. Eddie who when he's cuddled with Steve on the couch can hear his heartrate lift, can feel his fingers flex between his own. There is no need for a heavy blanket or a sweater when Eddie simply guides him down to laying on the couch, draping himself over Steve and providing the comforting weight across his whole body. There is no need for headphones or rambling when Eddie is stroking his hair and softly singing their song.

Steve can't stop the anxious feelings he gets sometimes, but he can breathe and maybe Eddie will be there beside him breathing too.

[watchyourbuck]

Eddie having a panic attack at the thought of spending his life with Ana makes it really hard for me to consider him straight tbh sjdjdjdjnd

[eddiegettingshot]

am i allowed to say that it’s a little strange to me that eddie’s serial monogamist tendencies are treated like an immutable characteristic instead of a product of his clearly deep-seated issues with intimacy due to his disastrous marriage, subsequent grief, severe ptsd, rigid belief in Doing Things The Right Way, fear of rejection, etc……….

[buddiesmutslut]

I’m genuinely so fucking sick of the “you all would have loved it if it was Eddie who made that comment” take.

First of all, Eddie wouldn’t have made comment then, bc he knows how hard it is for Buck to talk about his emotions, & is REALLY good at giving him the space to talk about them, even if he does make jokes, they’re not out of pocket (the coming out scene, anyone? Breaking the tension with a joke & still being supportive without making a joke of his feelings.)

Secondly, even if Eddie DID make that comment, I’d probably still roll my eyes, but I’d be more willing to accept it. Do you wanna know why???

Who was the person that knew the details of what Buck was talking to his therapist about during their emergency session before the Buckley’s visit? Who is the first one they show at Buck’s side when he gets stuck in the warehouse trying to pull Saleh out after learning about Daniel?? Who is the one who was pacing downstairs in the station & making sure Buck was okay after the warehouse, and the one who warned him about his visitors??

Who was the one praying at Bobby’s bedside, right next to Buck in the hospital?

(I’ll give you a hint, it’s not the dude that’s had 10 minutes of fucking screen time that everyone forgot about post s1.)

It wouldn’t have been the same bc TOMMY AND EDDIE ARE NOT THE SAME. They are not on the same level of knowing Buck & understanding when to make jokes & what jokes to make. Your best friend, partner & co-parent of 6 years and the man that you haven’t even called your boyfriend yet are not on the same level of familiarity.

I get that you’re pissed that Tommy is being compared to Buck’s previous love interests (which would be the case, even if he wasn’t just as shitty & uninterested in Buck as a person as they all were) but if you genuinely think that he’s anywhere near Eddie’s level, EVEN PLATONICALLY, then I fear that you have been watching another show entirely, & I encourage you to watch more than just s7, bc that’s the only explanation I can come up with for why this fuck ass take exists.

[queerdiazs]

tease tidbit tuesday 🫧

hi friends, i'm procrastinating doing my fema courses in favor of watching season 4 <3 have a lil bit of eddie vs the hoa

It’s just—Buck is big and it kind of drives Eddie a little crazy.  Like? God, okay. He’s a little stupid over it. You’ll have to forgive him.  He is so big, right, larger than Eddie and Eddie isn’t a small guy. He’s filled out since finishing his probationary year, settling in his career and getting comfortable in the life he chose for himself and Chris. He’s more functional muscle than big gains; his stomach’s soft, protected by a sweet layer of fat, but his core’s solid and his arms are twice the size they used to be when he was twenty-seven.  See? He isn’t small.  But, like, Buck’s just bigger, wider and broader and thicker, and there’s something so delicious about having somebody that large at his mercy, at his every beck and call. Buck has this quality about him, no matter his size, like he’s always ready to drop to his knees and let himself be taken care of, and it has Eddie’s head buzzing in a way that most definitely isn’t from the beer. 

tagged by @wikiangela, @jeeyuns, @devirnis, @disasterbuckdiaz, and @daffi-990 <3

tagging @spagheddiediaz, @puppyboybuckley, @evanbegins, @honestlydarkprincess, @exhuastedpigeon, @thewolvesof1998, @theotherbuckley, and @monsterrae1 if any of you wanna share!

[morganski-19]

I Don't Know Which Way's Home

Chapter 6: The Inspection

ao3 link, Part 1, Part 5

tw: descriptions of a minor panic attack

February 1984

Julie watched in horror as her journal was ripped in half by Matthew Anderson. The person who has been torturing her all year, but never stooped to this level. She could deal with the name calling, the pulling on her ponytails and braids, the balls of paper that would be thrown at her in the halls. That was just him being an idiot and picking on the poor kid.

This, this hit differently.

Her journals were her life. Stories written down that were fabricated from her mind or truth she was never able to fully speak. Worlds crafted and characters created. Places she’s always wanted to visit or things she’s always wanted to do. These journals made her days less lonely. Made her life feel fuller.

And now there it lays on the ground ripped into pieces, while Mathew and his friends laugh at her tears. Solemnly, Julie picks up the pieces of her book and runs away, scared that staying there for even a second more would bring on more taunting.

She runs to the back of the school and hides below a staircase, crying over her lost words. Stories jumbles together, pages ripped apart. Everything she’s worked so hard on teared apart in minutes.

“Hey, are you ok?” a boy with a black bowl cut wearing a sweater asks her.

Julie just looks back at the mess in her hands, overwhelmed by it all over again. “They ripped it apart,” she whispers. “Just took it from me an destroyed it.”

“Bullies, they’re just a bunch of mouth breathers,” the boy sits next to her. “It doesn’t look too bad, you could probably tape it back together.”

“Maybe, doesn’t make it the same, though.”

Julie’s mom told her that this journal was sent by her dad. Part of her knew it was a lie, but the innocent part of her really wanted to believe that it was true. This journal was special, it was her yearly gift from her dad. She would write stories in it about happy families, hoping that this magical journal would make her dad show up. That way her mom could be happy again, she could be happy too.

“What was it?” the boy asks.

Julie lines up the pieces of paper into a small, organized stack. “Stories. I like to write sometimes.”

“That cool. My friend likes to draw stories. He says that the best thing about them is how you can create them with your own mind, that way no one can ever really take them from you.”

“I never thought about it that way.” She looks at the piles of stories again and imagines them differently. Instead of ruined castles and homes, she sees rebuilding after a long battle. She sees hope. “Thank you.”

The boy shrugs. “I’m Mike, by the way.”

“Julie.”

. . .

Present Day

Steve hangs up the phone with the owner of Family Video, smiling to himself and can’t help himself from doing a small fist pump. He got the job. Which isn’t a lot, considering he can’t see himself doing it for the rest of his life, but it’s one step closer to passing this inspection.

The inspection has been looming over his head for the past week. After the meeting with the social worker, Steve has been working double to make sure the house was presentable, even if it wasn’t supposed to happen quite yet. Going through each drawer, making sure everything is in its place. Making a small box of all of his upside down related items to find a nice hiding place outside of his house so that they won’t be found.

It was a lot, but it was worth it. There would finally be somebody else living in this house, someone who was family. Another person filling the mass of rooms that stayed empty for his entire life. And by someone who would stay.

Or at least, stay for longer than a week.

This whole placement thing was still weighing over his head. If he was honest with himself, he wanted to one day get permanent custody of Julie, but that wouldn’t be for the best. With all that she’s been through, she deserved someone more stable than him. But he could provide her with a safe place to live where she actually liked, so that was enough.

And maybe when the time came to find a permanent placement, he would be stable enough to get it. If that ever would be a possibility.

But that would involve a better job than retail, his own place and not his parents. No more nightmares and a better explanation for his many scars. A less marked medical history and probably one less NDA than he has signed.

As much as Steve hoped, it didn’t seem feasible. It didn’t seem in reach. The family he’s found would leave again, and he couldn’t stop it. But he wanted to.

Eddie and Robin let themselves in through the front door, promising to help Steve get the house actually ready for the inspection. Since it’s in shambles from his weeklong obsessive searching for every possible thing that could be wrong. There were papers everywhere and things out of place. It needed to be put back together. And Eddie offered to hide out the upside down stuff at his new house, so that was helpful.

“Jesus, dingus,” Robin looks disgusted as she scans the mess, “the hell did you do?”

Eddie does a soft whistle, making his own observations. “Blew up in the living room?”

Steve sighs. “I know it’s bad. Just help, please.”

“Why we’re here.” Robin starts making small piles, organizing the mess.

Eddie grabs a few of the larger items, and brings them to the kitchen, placing them all on the table to be distributed later. Room by room they go through and put everything back to where it was, making sure nothing is out of place. Eventually it ends with Steve and Eddie in his room, gathering up some discarded clothing to be taken to the laundry room.

Steve is mentally checking off a list in his head, adding new things one after another of what he has to do. Clean the kitchen, clean the bathrooms, make sure the guest room beds are made and presentable, make sure there are no visible dangers in the house, check the railings for lose poles. Things he doesn’t even need to do but can’t help but think are necessary.

If this doesn’t go perfectly than what else is he supposed to do. Julie will be stuck in a terrible household until her social worker caves and moves her to another town. He’ll lose the only biological family that’s ever cared about him. All of this will have been for nothing. Julie will be let down and devastated, he’ll be devastated. It’ll all go terribly, and she’ll never talk to him again.

He'll be left alone in this house again. For God knows how long. He can’t move, can’t leave it behind for some reason. It just sits vacant with only him in it. And soon enough the kids will all go away to college, leaving him behind too. Robin will save enough money to go eventually too. Eddie will finally do what he always says and get the hell out of town. Leaving Steve in an empty house with no one around that loves him anymore.

A broken, empty house that has a million things wrong with it. So many things that this will never happen. They’ll see right through to the scared kid he still is but tries to hide. They’ll see the ghost that lives in his backyard. The pain and fear inside of him will come pouring out in the worst way possible. He’ll be deemed as unfit and this will all be for nothing. It’s always for nothing.

“Steve,” Eddie’s voice breaks through his thoughts. “Breathe. In, and out.”

Steve does what he said. Breathing deeply through his nose, not noticing how tight his chest had become. Breathing out through his mouth, hearing how shaky it is. He repeats it again and tries to stop the train on indefinite tracks in his mind, seemingly breaking off from itself and going in a million different ways. Each new branch clouding his thoughts and increasing the panic more.

“That’s good, now again.” Eddie breathes with him, making him hold his breath just slightly to help calm down his heartrate. He guides Steve to sit down on his bed, sitting next to him and taking his hand. Counting him through his breathes until the tightness alleviates, and he can breathe normally again.

“Thank you,” Steve breathes out, slouching a bit.

Eddie rubs his thumb across the back of Steve’s hand, squeezing it just slightly. Warmth radiating through the touch, making Steve want to lean in closer and absorb it.

“What’s wrong?” he asks softly.

Steve takes another deep breath through his nose. “What if this doesn’t work? What if I’m doing all of this for nothing?”

“You’re not,” he says pointedly. “Even if this doesn’t work out, it shows that you tried. That you care about her. Trust me, that means so much more than you realize. For both her and for the social worker. The courts might think differently if you want to take this further, but for temporary, you’re good. Ok?”

He meets Eddie’s eyes, immediately feeling the pull in them. “Ok,” he says, feeling himself start to get lost.

It takes a lot for Steve to let himself go around people, to put down his guard. But here in this moment, he would give it every single time just to get Eddie to look at him like this again. Just pure care in his eyes, gazing over Steve’s face to make sure everything’s ok. Wanting nothing more to this moment then to make sure he’s ok.

“What if everyone leaves me?” Steve whispers his fears so silently he hopes Eddie doesn’t hear. “Robin and the kids will head off to school. Julie will eventually too. And you’re never going to stay in this town. I’ll be all alone again.”

Eddie’s eyes meet Steve’s again and he lets out all the breath in his lungs. Just taken away by the simple beauty of Eddie’s face. He reaches up gently slides his hand across Steve’s neck, just barely cupping his chin. Steve leans into the touch, letting the warmth of Eddie’s hand ground him.

“I’m not leaving, not without you. Neither is Robin, and the kids will always come back. All of them will.”

Steve grabs Eddie’s wrist and holds his hand in place, letting himself sit in this moment. How he ever let himself say no to having this sooner, he doesn’t know. Because in this moment, there’s nothing more he wants then to lean in and capture Eddie’s lips with his. Take back everything he’s said and just dive in headfirst.

When Eddie’s eyes flick down to his lips just slightly, it makes it a million times harder for Steve to want to pull away. But he has to. This is the wrong time, there are things to do, he almost just went into a panic attack. Everything wants to stop him, but he can’t seem to listen to it. Slowly, he starts to lean in.

“Yo, dingus one and dingus 2, I can’t clean a house by myself,” Robin yells from behind the door, breaking the moment.

Steve pulls back, clearing his throat. “We’re coming, calm down.”

Before he can pull his hand away from Eddie’s, a small kiss is placed to the back of it. Warmth enveloping his hand before the coldness washes it all away when they let go. Soon, Steve promises. Soon he’ll be ready for this.

. . .

Julie is waiting in line at lunch when Dustin walks up to her. She rolls her eyes, ready to walk away before he can get in another line of questioning.

“Hi,” he states cheerily, with a stupid smile.

“Hi,” she responds crossly, hoping that it will show him that she’s not in the mood.

Dustin seems unaffected, continuing to follow her through the lunch line. “So, about a few days ago-.”

“It’s fine,” she cuts him off. “You were just curious about your friend. It’s fine.” Julie picks the last of her food and heads over to her usual table.

“I wanted to apologize,” Dustin follows. “I acted like a jerk, and I wanted to say that I’m sorry for making you uncomfortable.”

She sets her tray down on the table and looks at him. A sheepish expression paints his face, and an awkward stance almost as if he wants her to ask him to sit.

“I forgive you,” she says, taking a seat.

“Good,” he says, still standing there.

After their last meeting, he can’t think that she would have invited him to sit with her almost immediately after the apology. It took him a few days just to give it to her anyway, it’s not like she’s that hard to find. But then he was close to Steve, so she should at least try to get to know him. If everything is going to work out the way that they hope, Julie will be seeing a lot of him, and the other kids that he looks after.

“Is there anything else?”

“It’s just,” Dustin sits, without an invitation. “I can’t wrap my head around the idea of Steve having a sister.”

Julie stabs at her food. “Well, it’s true. Living proof right here.”

“No, yeah. I get that. I’ve just always known Steve to be an only child, like me. And now he’s not.”

“If it makes you feel better, he still kind of is. Our dad would rather pretend like I don’t exist.”

“So, you share a dad then?”

Julie stares across the table, “Really? You just apologized for the uncomfortable questions.”

Dustin squints his eyes again, before smiling. “I like you. Let’s start over. Dustin Henderson,” he extends his hand across the table. “Pseudo brother of Steve Harrington.”

“Julie Lawson,” she takes his hand warily and shakes it. “Half-sister of Steve Harrington.”

“That is still so weird,” he says, starting to eat his food.

. . .

“Harrington residence,” Steve mutters through the phone, filing through the mail as he does.

“Can you explain to me why your mother got a phone call last week about a job application of yours?” Richard Harrington speaks through the phone.

Steve’s body straightens on instinct with the voice, trained to present himself the best as possible. His mind races back to the resume he gave Keith, a revised one that he had applied with originally. But he forgot to take his mom off of the reference list when he added Hopper and Joyce. Her name was still there front and center.

“I had applied to be a manager at the video store I’m working at now. One is leaving and I thought I could take their spot.”

His father sighs through the phone. “Wishful thinking, Steven. You won’t just get jobs because you think you can take them. You must work hard for them.”

Steve’s mouth dries. “Well, I got the job. So, I must have worked hard enough for it.”

“Like you would know the meaning of hard work,” Richard chastises without missing a beat. “You didn’t even have to have a college degree to get this job. Those careers are never real hard work.”

Thoughts race in his mind but never reach the front for him to actually say them. His father doesn’t know how hard Steve’s works. Doesn’t know how much pain he’s been through. The thought hasn’t even crossed his mind that there are other things important in life other than work. Other than money.

But his dad will never understand. Never understand how much he’s truly failed in life. How much he’s failed Steve. So, Steve’s stays silent, like he always does.

“I thought you wanted me to understand the meaning behind hard work. That is what I am doing?”

“But for how long, Steven. How long are you going to go around and play the charade as if you are not a Harrington. You have a responsibility to me. To the family. Some day you are going to have to wake up and start your life, and we are not going to wait around forever for you to decide when that day is coming.”

Like you were ever here in the first place, Steve wants to say, but the words get stuck in his throat.

“Every time I think you have started to grow up you prove me wrong. You are still a child, Steven, and an immature one at that. Stop pretending that what you do doesn’t mean anything. Apply to schools again and get in this time. Get a real job, one that looks good on the family. We have a legacy that needs protecting, and you’re ruining it.”

Richard hangs up the phone before Steve can get a single word in.

He stands there for a few minutes, the buzzing from the phone line filling his ear. Stuck in the hopeless, fearful stance that happens after every phone call, every conversation. Every thought of his father that he has ever had.

Eventually, he hangs up the line. Eventually, he places his forehead against the wall and closes his eyes, letting them fill with tears. Letting them roll down his cheeks.

It took years for Steve to understand what he was meant to do and what he wanted to do. And even longer to understand that his father will never love him unless he did what he was meant to do. But every time he tried, he failed. Every time he did what he was told, what was planned, it never worked. It was never enough.

When the schools rejected him, he got a part time job. When Nancy and him ended, he went on the scheduled dates. When the world fucking ended and they weren’t here to witness it, he recovered in seclusion so nobody else would know. For his father. Always for his father and his fucking reputation. But it was never enough.

“You were never here,” Steve whispers to the wall. “You are never here.”

He stands straight again, taking a step back. Staring straight at the phone that his father spoke through however long ago.

“You don’t even know me.”

How can a parent know a child they didn’t even raise? How is a child supposed to live knowing their parents don’t love them? Questions with answers Steve’s been forced to answer. Questions that should have never even be asked.

Steve turns around to face the only family picture in the entire house. A professional taken when Steve was a child. His young face, innocent to what is to come, sits on his mother’s lap. All while his father looms in the background, standing behind them both, a hand on his mother’s shoulder.

“You know nothing about me,” Steve yells. “You have never stayed long enough to try. Not even once.”

Tears are streaming down his face, clouding his vision. His breath picks up, stuttering with sobs.

“I’m not ruining anything. You are the one ruining it. I have seen more than you can possibly imagine, and you call me immature. At least I wouldn’t cheat on my wife. At least I wouldn’t have another fucking kid and hide it from the world. Because I own up to my mistakes, I change. Despite you.”

Despite. Steve has become the person he is without his father’s influence. His proudest accomplishment. He has become the exact opposite of the man who he was supposed to be a clone of.

“Despite you,” he continues. “I found people who care about me. I’ve fought monsters, I’ve saved lives. Can you say the same? I’ve learned from my mistakes, I’ve changed. I’ve grown into a person that I actually like instead of hate. Because I hated myself when I was trying to act like you. And if you were actually here to see it, you would hate who’ve I’ve become. Because despite of you, I’ve become a better person that you could have ever hoped for me to be.”

Something heals itself inside of Steve. Something retreats. The little boy who he once was smiles at him, knowing that what he says is true.

Richard Harrington may have never stayed long enough to know his son. But that meant that his son never got to know anything about his father other than fear and disappointment. And through that disappointment, he grew. And there’s no turning back.

. . .

When Julie walks through the front door of Steve’s house, the lights are dark. It shouldn’t be surprising, she’s been there when he’s at work, but there’s mail on the hallway floor. She picks it up, stacking it gently on the hall table and continues through.

“Steve,” she calls out, walking into the living room. He’s sitting there in the dark, his elbows resting on his knees, face buried in his hands. “Shit, sorry. Do you have a migraine, I can leave.”

“No,” he says, lowering his hands, sitting up. “You’re fine.”

Something’s off. Steve’s hair is disheveled and there is slight redness around his eyes. A part of her wants to leave, let him be alone. He clearly was having some sort of moment. But when she thinks of this empty house, how empty it feels, she can’t leave him to it alone.

“Are you ok?” she asks quietly.

Steve scoffs, looking the other direction and shaking his head. “I’ve been better.”

She racks her brain of ways that her mom used to comfort her. The many things that failed, and how even when she tried her hardest, the sadness was still there. Talking about it always helped, though. Just to get the pain out of your system and have another person listen to it. For someone else to know your pain, for someone else to listen that it’s there.

It was never a lot, but it was something.

Julie walks over to the couch and sits on the cushion next to him. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Steve takes a moment before he finally says, “I know you probably got a lot of shit for not knowing your dad, and I know you probably wished you did on some level. But God am I jealous of you for never meeting him.”

“Is he really that bad?”

Steve leans back on the couch and crosses his arms, looking at the ceiling. “Yeah. But it’s more of the fact that I’ve never seen him long enough to know if he was any good.”

There was another thing that sometimes helped when she was feeling down. Similarities. People who could relate to her situation. Show that she wasn’t alone in the way she felt.

And while she couldn’t say that she knows exactly how Steve feels, but she can relate in her own way.

“When I was little,” she starts, “like really young, I would always ask when my dad would come home. When he would finally meet me. For a while, my mom would lie and tell me that my dad was in the army oversees, and that’s why he wasn’t around. And on Christmas, there would always be a gift that was from him. That was the most special present every year, because I could bring it in and prove to the other kids, to prove to myself, that I had a dad that loved me.”

She pauses, thinking back to the gifts that little her would line on her dresser. One for each year, each more special than the last. She would sit and stare at them, praying for a day where her dad would give them to her himself. Once she got older, the spell was broken. The lies were unraveled, and her world was shattered.

“Of course, I didn’t know they were really from my mom at the time. When I found out, I took everything that I thought was from him and put it in a box and went straight out to the dumpster. I wanted to throw them out, cry over the child that believed so hard for something that was never there. But I didn’t. After the lies faded, they were still gifts from one of my parents, it just happened to be my mom.”

The box still sat in her room for years later. Gifts that she couldn’t bear to give away, because it just proved how much her mom loved her. She pretended every year that Julie’s father was still around, just to give her daughter a sense of normalcy. Julie never appreciated it at the time, not until it was too late.

“I guess I’m trying to say that there’s sometimes a little good that comes from the bad. My dad was never around, and after a while, I didn’t want him to be. But my mom was. And those presents made me appreciate her more that she was.”

When she looks over at Steve, he’s looking back at her with a thoughtful look on his face. “She sounded great.”

She looks away from Steve for fear of crying.  “She was.”

“I’m sorry you lost her, I don’t think I ever said that.”

Julie has become so used to people saying sorry that the words don’t even affect her that much anymore. Not like they did a month ago. Everyone is sorry, but there’s nothing anyone can to do fix it.

“What’s your good?” she looks back at him.

Steve sighs, taking a moment to think. “Younger me would always wonder why he was never around, why he was never the one who raised me. But looking back, I’m sort of glad he didn’t. That way I turned out to be a better person than he was. He couldn’t raise me to be just like him. Even if he still tries.”

“Is that why all the lights are off, because he’s trying to?”

“Yeah, got a phone call from him today. Told me I was a disappointment because I got the manager job at Family Video.”

Julie sits up. “Oh my god. You got it. That’s great.”

“Not for him and his stupid legacy,” Steve grumbles, repeating what she can assume are his father’s own words.

“Forget him,” She insists. “This isn’t about him, it’s about you. You wanted the job, right?”

Steve shrugs. “Yeah. I did.”

“Then be proud of it. You got what you wanted. Not because of him, because of you. You did that. Own it.”

He smiles. “I guess I did do that.”

“Not guess, did.”

“Whatever,” he laughs, the mood in the room shifting. “Thank you.”

She shrugs, “What are no longer estranged siblings for?”

He snorts. “Cheering each other up about their same shitty dad, apparently.”

“Yeah, apparently.”

. . .

“Well, I think I’ve seen all of the house that I need to,” Sarah concludes, crossing something off on the clipboard she’s carrying. “There is just one more interview that we need to do.”

A slight weight lifts off Steve’s chest, just a slight one. The house inspection has been one of the most nerve-racking things in his life. Someone going through every room in his house and asking questions about the most random things. Looking at his life in one of the most personal ways possible.

“Ok,” Steve responds. “We can head to the kitchen if you’d like.”

Sarah nods and follows him to the kitchen, getting herself ready at the table.

“Would you like anything to drink?” Steve offers. She politely declines.

He sits across from her as she pulls out a file. Glancing quickly at the name and seeing his own across the tab. Papers filled with information about him. He doesn’t know how much she can get before he turned eighteen, but there was plenty past then that he hopes she has no access to.

The NDAs he’s had to sign especially. He might be legally required not to talk about them, but the fact that he has them at all could be concerning. But those records would be sealed, right?

“So, Steve, you live in this house alone?”

“For the most part. My parents also live here but haven’t been back in at least a year and a half.”

He remembers that because they showed up for his graduation. Most kids went out to dinner to celebrate the day. Steve had to sit through a lecture on how he was going to fix the fact that he didn’t get into any colleges.

She nods and glances over the papers in front of her again. Each second without a question making his pulse speed up.

“That’s a long time to be away from the house. Do you take care of all the needs while they are away?”

Steve nods. “Yes. I have been given the rights to upkeep the house. So, paying all of the bills on time, making necessary purchases, making sure everything is up to date and replacing anything that isn’t.”

“And how long have you been doing that?”

He has the strong urge to lie but thinks that could be dangerous. But what is worse, saying that he’s only been doing it for two years, or since he was sixteen.

“I started to take over some of these responsibilities when I was sixteen. But that was mostly the financial stuff. Other normal chores I’ve been doing for longer.”

Sarah makes an almost startled look before writing something down in her notes, flipping to the next page before continuing her questions. Asking how long his parents would normally be away. If there was any change they would come home in the near future. How frequent these trips were and when did they start.

“What I am getting here is you know the financials and other necessities of keeping a good house very well, Steve,” she says with a hint of concern. “Even before you became a legal adult.”

If she only knows the things he’s done, the things he’s seen before becoming a legal adult. “Yes, that’s true.”

“Alright, let’s move on to the rest of the basic questions.”

She asks him if there are any weapons in the house. Basic safety questions to ensure that the house is fit. Then moves on to asking about him. When he graduated high school, where he works. What he likes to do in his free time. What his strengths and weaknesses are. General interview questions to get a better assessment of his personal life.

“You’re doing fine, Steve. You can calm down,” she jokes, marking one last thing before moving on to the last question.

He laughs. “Was it that obvious?”

She nods. “It always is. I just have a few more questions for you and I will leave you be.”

“Alright,” he rubs his palms gently against his jeans.

“Why do you think you would be the right placement for Julie?” She asks it with a smile, trying to make him feel safe but her words only making him panic.

He takes a moment to settle himself, try to think of what to say without it being jumbled. All the reasons seem obvious but not enough. To get her out of a house she hates. To give her a home where she feels safe. Be able to help get her through the rest of her schooling and help her go to the college she wants. Support her through the rest of her life, even if it isn’t permanent.

To finally be able to have the family he’s always wanted.

“I want her to be able to have a home that she feels safe coming home to. For her to have somewhere that feels like a home, that feels like a family. When we first met, I didn’t know what was going to come of it. But I knew I wanted to help her.”

He takes a deep breath, trying to figure out the best way to put it.

“My father is a difficult man. He’s done a lot of things in his life that I don’t approve of, or would repeat. And I couldn’t help but think that I had to help her. She was a victim of his mistakes, something I knew how to manage. So, I got to know her. I reached out and waited for her to make the decision if she wanted to get to know me. And she did.”

Steve thinks back to the first few moments of meeting her. The sorrow for him in her eyes that came with the information she’d given him. Not even realizing that she’d given him the one thing he’s begged for since he was little. A sibling. He’d be stupid not to try to get to know her.

“I know I’m not what you normally see when it comes to potential guardians. And I know that there are people that are going to tell you that this is a bad idea. You might even think it yourself, without them telling you. But I care about Julie, and I want to make sure she’s in a house that can provide for her. That loves her. And if I’m not the best fit for it, if there’s someone better, I’m not going to stop it. But she seems to really like it here, she comes over almost every day. And it might just be because she doesn’t like that other house, but I can’t help but think that she likes it here. That she feels comfortable with me.”

Sarah places down her pen and looks at him, fully paying attention to what he is saying. It only makes him feel like he’s saying the right thing.

“All I want is to make sure she’s taken care of. That she’s getting what she needs to survive through this change. I want to be there for her while she grieves her mom. Even though she tries to hide how bad it is. I want to make sure that she can go to the college she wants to. I want to make sure that she’s happy. And even if you tell me this isn’t possibly, that I’m not the right fit for her. I’m still going to be there for her, because I want to be her family. Whatever that means for us.”

All Sarah does is smile and close the file in front of her. “I think that answered the rest of the questions I had for you. You did very well.”

“Thank you,” he sighs in relief. “When will I figure out your decision.”

“Well, I have one last interview to do with Julie, but soon. We’re moving quicker than normal as the state of that house she’s currently placed in is not meeting my standard. They won’t be fostering for us anymore after this,” she adds as if she isn’t supposed to tell him. “You should be hearing from me within the next week or so.”

Only a few more days until he figures out if this was all for nothing.

“Thank you, for even considering this,” he says while walking her out.

“It is always a priority for me to look at family members, especially those who care as much as you do.” She holds out her hand and he shakes it. “It was a pleasure meeting with you again, Steve.”

With that, she walks out the door and the inspection ends. Leaving him with what feels like misplaced hope starting to flutter in his chest. He might have actually pulled this off. Just might.

Tag list(let me know if you want to be added or removed): @homoerotictangerine, @mugloversonly, @thesuninyaface, @imyelenasexual, @anaibis, @ilovecupcakesandtea, @brainsteddielyrotted, @jackiemonroe5512, @eddie-munsons-missing-nipple, @goodolefashionedloverboi, @cinnamon-mushroomabomination, @lolawonsstuff, @writingandmushroomdragons, @stevesbipanic, @sierra-violet, @steddie-as-they-go, @dauntlessdiva, @mousedetective, @the-daydreamer-in-the-corner, @zombiethingy, @connected-dots-st-reblogger, @that-agender-from-pluto, @allyricas, @cheddartreets, @devondespresso, @crypticcorvidinacottage, @queenie-ofthe-void @chronicpainstevetruther, @cheddartreets, @theupsidedownrealestateagent, @acidbubblegummie, @sirsnacksalot, @l0st-strawberry, @helpimstuckposting, @strawberry-starss, @freddykicksasses, @italianwhore1, @i-threw-my-name-out-the-window, @rageagainsttheapathy, @nuggies4life, @ape31, @whimsicalwitchm, @chrissycunninghamfanblog, @michellegilligan, @hippielittlemetalhead, @bridget-malfoy-stilinski-hale, @jaytriesstuff, @confused-stripes, @faeb1tch42069, @marklee-blackmore, @hel-spawn, @genderless-spoon, @mamafaithful, @estrellami-1, @starryeyedpoet17 @i-amthepizzaman, @lilpomelito @melonmochi

[smokingthemoutbasement]

Just spent hours writing for the first time in a while since I was diagnosed with a panic disorder. Guess I really am slowly getting better. If you like Steddie and Ethel Cain, be on the lookout for when I post. Might be tomorrow or a couple of days.

[sp0o0kylights]

Part One / Part Two / Part Three (You Are Here)

Complete Thing on A03

Sure enough, Jason Carver had brought a priest. 

The idiot himself stood next to the guy, smugly grinning like a hunter posing with his prized buck, a small crowd already gathering. 

Opposing them was Michael Wheeler, hands planted on Hellfire’s table and back up like a pissed off cat’s, mouth moving faster than Eddie thought possible.

He couldn’t hear what Wheeler was saying. 

Frankly did not want to know what Wheeler was saying, and could only do his damndest to intervene before Mike tanked the situation entirely. 

Gareth and Jeff flanked him, both tense as hell. Neither had backed down though, standing tall and holding ground even as Jason pulled more and more people into his little spectacle. 

Lucas and Grant on the other hand, were standing off to the side.

They weren’t cowering exactly, but both were definitely wincing as Gareth opened his mouth to add his own two cents. 

Given the scowl on the priest, it was probably something nasty, 

‘Fuck.’ Eddie thought, teeth clenched, as Jason drew out his arms, making an even bigger production for his little audience. ‘Fuck, fuck, fuck!’ 

The worst thing of all? 

Dustin managed to reach the group before anyone else did. 

Wheeler and Emerson might have low charisma, but Dustin had a particular combination of snark and a know-it-all attitude that really pissed off authority figures. 

(And Eddie would know, given he was the reigning champion of pissing off authority figures.) 

He did, however, slide in right in time to hear the priest respond. 

“I don’t care for your tone, young man. Jason here has some concerns over your club and I have to agree, what I see is quite,” The guy paused, jowls jiggling as he looked over their table, clearly eyeing Hellfire’s logo. “alarming.” 

 At least wasn’t an actual sermon.

Not yet, anyway. 

Eddie came up right inbetween Mike and Dustin, intending to make himself out to be the new target for all to aim at.  

There was an art to making yourself the sole owner of everything evil in this world, and Eddie had learned it all, trial by fire style.  

“Carver is full of--” Mike snarled, and thankfully was cut off—not by Eddie, or the hand he’d just clamped onto Mike’s shoulder—but by Harrington. 

Who sauntered right up as if he was joining everyone for dinner, and not walking into a circus act.

“Hello Father.” Harrington said, voice warm and welcoming.  “Would you like some of our cookies? We have a sample platter.” 

“Oh--Steve!” The priest blinked, actually blinked, that he was startled to see Hawkins’ golden boy appear next to him. “I’m sorry but no. I’m ah, here for other reasons.”

He paused so long it was nearly comedic before tentatively asking; “ Are you with this table?”

Like the guy couldn’t see the same Hellfire logo plastered across Steve’s ridiculous jock chest. 

Eddie opened his mouth to give a resounding no, Hellfire shirt or not--when Mike of all people put an elbow into his side. 

As if Eddie was the one who needed to be silenced.  

“I am.” Steve put an arm down on Dustin’s shoulder, squeezing it in a way that looked like fond encouragement (but what Eddie was pretty sure was actually a warning in the same way the hand on Mike’s shoulder was.) “I came to help out my friends and fundraise.”

Then he beamed, face lighting up with the full Harrington charm, giga watt smile and all. 

Now the priest just looked awkward. 

“You’ve apparently been fundraising for what I have been told is a…Satanist Club?” 

It was hilariously delicate, how the priest said it. Like now that a respectable member of Hawkins was here, he had to be more careful about what words he used. 

Eddie would have interrupted then.  Retake the reins and do what he did best in terms of making everyone forget about everything but him--except Carver was rounding on Harrington, and well.

He was always a fan of the rich eating each other. 

“You cannot seriously be with these--these,” Jason’s eyes darted to between him and the priest, before physically reigning himself in. “hooligans, Harrington!” 

“I’m sorry.” Harrington said, and whatever Jason had been expecting to get hit with, it wasn’t “good ol’ boy” southern charm. 

He blinked, taking on the air of a kicked puppy who couldn’t understand why someone would be so mean as he glanced around the crowd.  “I think I'm a little lost here.” 

Jason clearly wasn’t prepared for that either. 

“What?” 

“This table is for a storytelling and math game.” Steve spoke slowly, in the same way one explained things to a toddler. “You have to roll dice and add the numbers up to do anything."

“It’s not a game, Steve.” Jason spat back. “It’s an evil trick made to tempt the susceptible minds of children to the dark arts!” 

Personally, Eddie was amazed Carver even knew the word susceptible let alone be able to properly use it in a sentence. 

(He tried to open his mouth to say so, and once again got elbowed, this time by Gareth. 

The look he gave his younger friend could have melted steel beams.)

“That’s what this is about?” Harrington slid his arm off Dustin's shoulders, leaning back to look at the priest and the people around them in a show of blatant disbelief. “You think the nerd club is related to satanism?” 

It was Eddie's own tactic--arguing that D&D was “using academic skills” and “making math fun!" not that Hellfire had ever been successful using it.

Of course, they weren’t Hawkins golden boy either. 

Jason sputtered. 

“It has monsters and--demons in it! It makes children do spells and sign over their souls!” He flung a hand out, for the first time acknowledging Eddie by pointing at his shirt. “Just look at that! It’s awful!”  

"Hey." Eddie said, hand going over his very well drawn dragon.

“I once had to stop an argument about how much weight a wooden bridge could hold.” Steve countered, hands moving to his hips. “I only got them to stop by agreeing to take the kids to a library so they could look it up.” 

He squinted, in Carver's direction, deadpanning; "I take it you think the library is evil now too?"

“The name of the club is called Hellfire!” Jason shrieked, sounding more like an angry teakettle than anything dangerous. 

“Look I get that it sounds scary,” Steve said, the tiniest hint of pity entering his voice, “but they’re trying to make math problems and English essays sound cool. It’s the same reason Father John here calls our annual haunted house Hell House, isn’t it? So people go in it to begin with?” 

Harrington turned to look expectantly at the priest, and Eddie had to admit it was an excellent way to both pander to the guy and sound like Jason was making a big deal out of nothing. 

Perhaps, he’d stay quiet after all. 

(Even if it went against Eddie’s entire being to do so.)

“Well, yes, but--” Father John had clearly picked up on the fact he was losing this particular argument, but plowed forward regardless. “Those activities are supervised by the church…” 

“This is evil Harrington, and you should know better to promote it.” Carver tacked on, like this was a two bit comedy sketch. 

“When I played it we just saved some poor town from a bad guy who set it on fire.” Steve rolled his eyes. 

Then he leaned in, converting his voice into a stage whisper that somehow projected it, giving the impression that everyone around them was listening in on a secret. 

“The doctor said it was a really good way for Dustin and Erica to process the mall fire. He’s a specialist--my mother managed to convince him to fly down to help all the kids who got hurt.” 

Eddie was 100% sure that was total bullshit, but the mere mention of Harrington's mother had seemed to have an effect on the people around them.

 Like Steve had invoked the name of an old but beloved God, not always benevolent but definitely memorable. 

“She’s always been a champion of helping when you can.” Steve spoke to the priest, like they were having a conversation between just the two of them. “Encouraging people to volunteer and helping fundraise.”

“She has been." Father John said, in the kind of instant way one does when they don’t want to offend a very large donor.  "Tell your mom I look forward to her coming back from her--ah, trip.”

 With an awkward glance to the table, he added; “...I suppose I don’t see how math comes into play?” 

“Oh it’s right from the start. Hey Jeff, come here, show Father John how you have to do a bunch of calculations and stuff to make a character.” 

“Ah--right.” Jeff sprung to life, moving around the table to Steve.

“We uh, we start with this character sheet…” 

“Eddie Munson runs the club.” Jason interrupted, before Steve could get Jeff to going.

“He’s right there! Does he look like this whole thing is just an innocent board game?” 

This was a last ditch effort, and it was clear by the chattering that had started circling amongst their audience that everyone knew it. 

Unfortunately, it was a good one.

This was the downside to making yourself a target. Once a bad guy, always a bad guy--particularly in the eyes of the PTA. 

“Munson?” Harrington dismissed with a scoff. “He’s harmless.” 

Which was news to most of their audience given the amount of attention Eddie suddenly had on him, but it was fine. 

He was used to the disapproving stares and glares, and gave his best award winning smile in response. 

Jason looked at Harrington like he’d lost his mind. 

“He has skulls on his fingers for fucks sake!” 

“Jason.” Steve admonished, in a perfect mimic of an upset southern mother. “Language.” 

Carver's jaw dropped, face purpling in rage.

Steve ignored him, turning back to the Priest. “I don’t know what's gotten into him but I’m sorry Jason’s wasted your time, Father.” 

“Munson is a drug dealer!” And ah, here came the Hail Mary move, Carver's one and only trump card.

“We all know he’s a drug dealer, and he’s using this--this game, to give drugs to kids!”

“Really?” Steve turned. “Lucas, what happens if I ever catch you smoking weed?” 

Lucas answered instantly. “You’re going to make us run laps at five in the morning.” 

“For a month.” Dustin added, with an exaggerated shudder. 

It would have been too much--except his disgusted face sold it. 

“Eddie’s just loud and wants to be a rockstar.” Harrington said, like this he was harmless.

No one on Steve's side of things had ever thought of Eddie as harmless.

 “I’ve babysat these kids for years and Eddie was a huge help in making sure no one in high school messed with them.” He continued, like they were some sort of team or friends even.

(Like Eddie hadn't been at Harrington's throat all day, pissy and defensive.)

“We have a real bullying problem right now. Funny enough,” Steve’s nailed Jason with a look, “I keep hearing that it’s coming from the basketball team.” 

“What are you implying?” Jason asked darkly. 

“Just that it’s funny how nobody got caught fighting when I was team captain.” Steve returned. 

God the man was such a bitch. Eddie kind of wanted to kiss him a little. 

Okay, more than a little.

“I get you have some kind of beef with Munson, but let’s not drag a bunch of people into it. Especially not Father John.” Harrington was playing up to the mothers around him now, dismissing Carver entirely as he did so. “He’s a busy guy.”

“Very.” Said Father nodded solemnly. “I do not appreciate being pulled into a high school squabble.” 

Jason’s mouth swam through shapes, words stuttering out of it. “This isn’t, thats not--”

“We can talk about this after church on Sunday.” Father John interrupted, the finishing blow to Carver's little show.

“You came all this way, at least have a cookie on us.” Steve said with an appeasing tone, reaching an arm back behind him.

Quick on the uptake, a cookie appeared in his hands. 

He offered it out to the priest, who took it happily.

"Okay, who wants cake!?” He called, in a clear and obvious dismissal of Jason. 

Who stood there, like he couldn’t believe what just happened. 

His eyes slid to Eddie's, fists clenched tightly at his side, hatred pouring off him so strongly one could almost taste it.

Eddie winked at him.

(Unknown to him at the time, Jason had also looked at Steve--and Steve would wink too.)

xXx

Steve Harrington, who Eddie had been an absolute ass all day too, had looked Jason Carver, a Priest and half of Hawkins in the eye and announced that he, Eddie Munson, was a good person at heart.

It made Eddie want to vomit a little when he thought about it too hard.

“I know this is horrible timing,” Robin said, sidling up as the crowd finally dispersed, “but I really, really need to talk to you.” 

Eddie turned, head full of far too many thoughts and ready to tell her such, when he caught sight of Buckley's face. 

Was reminded, by the sheer nervous, ‘horse about to bolt’ vibe, that he owed it to Robin as a fellow queer not to be a dick about her accidental outing.

Even if all he wanted was to preen in the wake of Carver’s defeat. 

‘See Mothers of Hawkins? Your own golden boy just gave me his stamp of approval!’ 

A mental image that immediately changed to Steve Harrington’s name stamped on his ass and dammit he had to get ahold of his thoughts before he fell down rabbit holes like this--!

“Back there, at the stairs,” Robin started, voice dropping low, and Eddie didn’t miss the way her eyes kept seeking out Steve, like he was some kind of safety net--which he probably was. “What um--what did you hear?” 

It took a lot of guts to come talk to him, knowing what he'd overheard--particularly given they'd just fended off the church.

He'd never exactly underestimated Robin Buckley, but then, he'd never expected this level of badassery from her either.

“Eddie?” Robin prodded again, chewing hard on her bottom lip.

“Sorry, distracted.” Eddie waved a hand behind himself. “Not everyday the King decides to defend your honor to a priest.” 

With a little bow, he offered his elbow out to her, a clear signal to take it and let him escort them away from unwanted ears.

In a show of bravery, Robin took his elbow and let him lead, even as she frowned up at him, looking like she was about to say something.

Likely it was in defense of Harrington, but Eddie had been interrupted enough for one day. 

“You and His Highness over there really should be more aware of your surroundings." He started, voice low. "Lucky for you, you’re among friends. You and Dorothy both.” 

He reached a foot out, tapping Robin’s own. 

Right on top of a doodled pair of tits. 

Robin let go of his elbow and glanced down, before flinging her head right back up, panicked.

"I--"

“If you’d like I can pretend I never heard a thing.” Eddie interrupted, dropping his voice into the gentler tone he reserved for delicate conversations.

People were always surprised by the lengths he went to make sure someone was comfortable--but then, people also forgot how often Eddie heard things he shouldn’t. 

People didn't take drugs just for fun, after all.

“Or I can offer a friend of a friend discount on my wares,” He put a finger to his lips, miming smoking with one hand while he opened his vest with the other to flash the little pink triangle pin that sat inside, announcing his own sexualities status.

“and we can, say, discuss the differences between radical and social feminism while admiring the fine forms of Susan Sarandon and Peter Hinwood?”

The smile he gets is two parts relief, one part genuine delight and Eddie grinned right back at her, flicking his vest closed.

“I did not take you for a Peter Hinwood type.” Robin said it hesitantly, still waiting for the other shoe to drop. “Thought you’d find Tim Curry’s…acting skills, more to your taste.”

“In the case of Rocky Horror? I am Tim Curry.” He announced, loud and proud (well for this kind of conversation at least.) 

He was rewarded by the tension finally melting out of Robin’s shoulders. 

(This, Eddie reflected, is what he should have been doing this entire time, instead of getting tied up in knots over Harrington and turning into some kind of non-conformist tyrant.) 

“Do you actually know the differences between social and radical feminism?” Robin challenged, braver now, and Eddie knew then and there he’d been successful in assuring her her secret was safe.

That she was safe, with him.

“Guess you’ll have to find out.” Eddie said, giving a playful nudge to her shoulder. 

Baths in the laugh he gets for it, and for the first time today feels like he’s finally on firmer ground.

They chatted for a moment longer, making a loop on the very outskirts of the gym, voices hushed when it came to things that small town ears shouldn’t overhear--but of course, Robin couldn’t just leave things at that.

“Hey Eddie?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Can you do me one more favor?”

“Anything for you, my favorite feminist.” 

For the first time since this conversation started, Robin managed to sound firm. 

“Stop referring to Steve as a King.” 

She rushed ahead, anticipating being cut off, and thus Eddie is hit with a wave of words, none of which he’d ever thought he’d hear in relation to thee Steven Harrington. 

“He’s working really hard to get away from it, the whole King thing and how he used to be. I don’t know what all he did to like--you guys,” She flapped her hand in the general direction of Hellfire, “and I know he wasn’t an innocent bystander, but I kinda realized over the summer that I blamed him for a lot of things that were in my own head, and that he wasn’t--he was never as bad as I thought he was and he's still trying to make it up to me anyway.”

Robin trailed off, seeming to try and piece out what she wanted to say next without giving away the whole farm. “It’s not some act, Eddie. Steve’s really trying to change.” 

Which yeah.

Eddie could see that, now. 

Maybe not before but…

“Okay.” He said, after a long, long moment. “No more King Steve. Got it.”

The smile he got for that also felt like a victory, even if it was wrenched out of him.

xXx

Two hours and a dispersed crowd later, Eddie found himself once again stuck in his own head. 

The facts were thus:

Steve Harrington was a good dude. 

He used his good dude-ness to save Hellfire from a literal priest, right smack in front of God and Principal Hairy Ass both

All of Hellfire actually liked him 

According to Robin Buckley, Steve was entirely fine with “all us triangles” quote/unquote 

And;

Eddie was jealous.

He was self aware enough to admit it, alongside the fact that Jason Carver aside, maybe Eddie had been the villain today instead of Steve. 

Which meant he not only owed Harrington an apology, but he owed it to both of them to work out his own stupid shit before it blew up in his face and cost him all his friends.

(He’d have called this move “pulling a Harrington” before today but now that feels mean, which Eddie supposes signals he’s grown as a person or some shit.) 

So now he sits on Steve’s beemer, knowing the move will likely antagonize the ex-jock but equally knowing he’s planning on jumping off the car the second the guy comes near, and that the move itself will get Harrington to listen to him the second he’s done supervising whatever Hellfire’s youngest is doing.

(Eating leftover cookies like the older members are as they finish packing up, Eddie assumes.) 

Ducking out like he did had allowed him some much needed time to think things though. Figure out what he was going to say--without an audience present.

He’d apologize publicly if he had to. But being vulnerable is hard, and given the way his friends had been acting, Steve isn’t the only person he owes an apology to. 

For now, he’ll begin here, without an audience. 

Eddie doesn’t get to plan for long--only gets to rehearse a few lines of his little spiel when a pointed cough jerks him back to reality. 

There stands Steve Harrington, a fat wad of cash in one hand and a box in the other.

Like a man sent to the gallows, Eddie leapt off the beemer, squaring his shoulders. 

He could do this.

 Apologize-- and mean it. 

Not that Steve gave him the chance to. 

“The guys told me to give this to you.” He said, holding out the cash. Then he took a breath, like he was preparing to go to war, and added; 

“I know you weren’t happy with me being here, and you probably don’t want this, but Dustin said you really liked cinnamon brownies so I made you some.” 

The box was now held out alongside the cash, proof that Steve had tried to start this whole thing off on the right foot. 

Eddie stared at it, then at Steve. 

Felt the guilt chew on his gut just that much harder.

“I have been shitty to you all day. Why are you giving me this?” 

Steve shrugged. 

“To be fair I didn’t exactly make it easy on you either. You said jump and I said ‘watch this’.” Steve laughed, a small, almost self depicting sound. “Dustin’s been on my ass all day about it.” 

Of course he had. 

“Mine too.” Eddie admitted. “It's his tone, I swear."

“Yes!” 

Carefully, Eddie reached out, accepted the box and the cash. 

“Thanks by the way. For the stuff you said about me earlier.” 

Steve grimaced, cheeks tinting a (lickable) red. “Yeah sorry, I--”

“No not--not that stuff.’ Eddie said, mentally hauling his thoughts back in line, fiddling with the cash. “The stuff about being a good person. No one’s uh. Said that. About me.”

Not except for Wayne, but Harrington wouldn’t know nor care about Eddie’s uncle. 

Steve shrugged. “I didn’t say anything that wasn’t true.” 

He’d argue that, except something was off. 

It took Eddie a moment to place it--that the wad Steve handed over was way too big for the little bake sale they’d just attended. 

He tucked the box under his arm, quickly counting the stack with a smoothness only drug dealers and bank tellers could manage.

“It’s all there, I promise.” Steve told him simply, but without judgment. He sounded like he expected this and that didn’t sit right with Eddie either. 

Not that he could do anything about it because he’d just counted up didn’t make any sense. 

Not trusting himself, Eddie stacked it back together, before counting it all again. He was faster this time, trying to figure out among all the ones, fives and tens how the hell they had managed to sell that many cookies. 

Particularly considering the most expensive thing was one of the cakes and he’d watched Steve sell it for fifteen dollars. 

So why were there three twenties sitting in the stack? 

“Either you up charged the absolute shit out of someone’s mom, in which case I congratulate you, you sneaky devil,” Eddie said slowly, “Or you put extra cash in here.” 

Steve blushed properly this time. 

Eddie zeroed in on his face, watching as Steve rubbed the back of his neck with his hand, trying to pull his charming mask into place.

He didn't quite manage it.

Hadn’t even been wearing it before now, Eddie realized suddenly.

This entire conversation Steve had a realness to him that Eddie had never really seen. 

Had maybe not wanted to see, from someone like Harrington. 

“I don’t know what you mean.” Steve protested, like a kid who’d been caught with a hand in the cookie jar. “That’s what we charged.” 

“You are a terrible liar.” Eddie accused, hand trembling. “We can’t take this, man. This is a almost two hundred dollars.” 

Way more than what they’d need for Gen Con. It was enough to get them two fuckin’ hotel rooms! 

“If It helps any, I didn’t do it for you.” Steve’s blush slid into something more genuine, as he nodded his head to where Hellfire was spilling out of the gym doors, laughing and shoving one another. 

“They deserve to have a good trip.” He added, eyes fond as he watched Dustin and Mike squabble over how to fold Hellfire's banner.

It made his whole face soften, the harsh features of his jaw turning into something that was so adorable Eddie wanted to bite through it. 

“Do you want to come?” Someone said, and it took both Steve’s startled look and a second long pause for Eddie to realize that someone was him.

Stupid, stupid, stupid-! 

“To the convention?” Steve asked, looking doubtful. 

Pity that Eddie was already nodding, like his brain and his body were at a total disconnect.

Maybe aliens had finally taken him over. Or a demon. 

(Demonic possession could frankly explain a lot about today, Carver’s weird little power play aside.)

“Dude you don’t even like me.” Steve said. “Why would you want me to come along?” 

“I dunno Harrington. All of Hellfire seemed to like you, and not just my freshman.” Eddie countered easily, gliding right over the fact that he himself did like Steve.

Way more than he should, and that right there was half of Eddie’s problem. 

“They have pretty good taste in things.” He waived a hand, as if this wasn’t a complete 180 from how he’d acted all day. “I could understand if you didn’t want to slum it with us nerds though.”

Steve rolled his eyes. 

“I’ve been slumming it all day with you nerds, if you haven’t noticed.” 

“Yeah? What’s your verdict on us?” 

“Not as bad as you could be.” 

Eddie tilted his head back and laughed. “High praise from the King!”

He felt bad immediately after, and made himself promise to be more mindful about Robin’s ask--but  thankfully Harrington didn’t take it hard. 

(Habits, Eddie knew, were hard to change.

Took a lot of careful attention to change. 

He had a long road ahead of him, and he hoped this little olive branch put him a few miles down it.) 

Steve awarded him a small smile. “I haven’t been the King for a long while, man. But if you guys have an opening, I think I wouldn’t mind being a knight or whatever.” 

“Ste-eeeve Harrington, defender of the realm.” Eddie nodded once, decisively. “I can see it.”

He tucked away the cash, and thus missed how Steve looked weirdly contemplative at that. 

Raised his head and stuck out a hand. 

Tentatively, Steve took it. 

“Welcome to the club, Harrington. We meet on Fridays. Bring snacks.” 

“Cookies okay?”

“Going by Gareth’s judgment, they’re more than okay.”

Eddie smiled and Steve smiled back, and God how he hated how fucking cute Harrington’s face was. 

Particularly since he now got to think of the guy as “Steve” without feeling weird about it. 

As in his possible, potential, friend Steve.

What a fucking trip that was. 

“Oh, and Steve?” He called, the thought hitting him as Steve turned to welcome the group making their way to the beemer.

Steve had let his hand fall, turning to open the front door of the Beemer with a cocked eyebrow.

Eddie flicked a finger out, lightly tapping the Hellfire logo. “Tell Lucas I’ll get him another shirt. That one’s all yours, big boy.” 

If there was a pink hue to Harrington’s cheeks, he was blaming sunburn. 

(Two months, six days, and one meddlesome asshole named Henderson later, and Eddie would find out that Steve had in fact, been blushing.

He’d be furious at Dustin’s involvement, if it hadn’t directly led to Eddie finding out Steve’s blush did in fact go down his chest.

And his happy trail.

And his--

Well.

Men do not kiss and tell. 

Not to fucking freshmen, anyway.) 

THERE IS A GEN CON, "THERE WAS ONLY ONE BED BECAUSE DUSTIN IS A MEDDLESOME SHIT" BONUS BUT it's on A03 cause it was long enough to be its own post and I wasn't gonna add it to this one. You can read it here LINK

[your-stranger-halfblood-things]

Steve still thinks he's an asshole. He never got to apologize to Jonathan because the Demagorgon came. He never got to say sorry to Barb for not including her because she died. He never got to let himself feel free from the shame. The shame of being an asshole.

And when Jonathan grabs him by the arm and forces him into another room right before the final battle, Steve cant even look into his eyes. And Jonathan lifts up his chin so Steve looks into his eyes. "I know you have some messed up fantasy where you think you're as asshole, but you need to get it through your thick head: you are not an asshole, okay?"

And Steve doesn't say anything. He just feels his eyes sting, but he forces the eye contact to stay. When he finally finds his voice, he says in the smallest voice he's ever used, "But I am an asshole. I literally called you a queer because I didn't like you. I've done things in the past, things that I could never forgive myself for..."

And Jonathan grabs the side of his face and kisses him. "You're not an asshole, but if you want to think of yourself as one, go ahead." And he kissed him again. And Steve kisses back, but only for a bit, before pushing away.

"I-I need to go find Robin-"

As he tries to run away, Jonathan holds his hand, "wait, Steve, good luck. And don't hit your head in this battle." And he let's Steve go. Jonathan touches his lips and smiles. Steve better survive so they could talk about this.

[on-coming-dusk]

Headcanon that Eddie's panic attacks are intense, loud, and scary.

The first time he has one, Steve is there to help manage it. But it scares the shit out of Steve. It scares the shit out of everyone who sees it.

Steve thinks something is wrong with him, that he is physically unwell or hurt. He keeps trying to figure out what happened, how he got hurt. Was there still poison from the bats in his system that has just been dormant until now?

But then he realizes what is happening. It's basically an episode, Eddie seemed trapped elsewhere, trapped in his mind and unable to hear him when he tried to calm him down.

It scares the shit out of Steve and he hopes no one has to deal with that again, especially Eddie.

[estrellami-1]

Soft Touch Baby

Pt 1 | Pt 2 | Pt 3 | Pt 4 | Pt 5 | Pt 6 | Pt 7 | Pt 8 | Pt 9 | Pt 10 | Pt 11 | Pt 12 | Pt 13 | Pt 14 | Pt 15 | Pt 16 | Eddie’s POV | Song | ao3

Eddie won’t stop looking at Steve now. “I’m not sure I wanna go back to the masks.”

Steve just shrugs. “I’m fine. I deal.”

“Bullshit,” Eddie says easily.

Steve’s world narrows down to that one word. Images, memories, flash through his head. Would’ve should’ve could’ve done something differently. But it’s too late. And she’s happy, and he’s happy for her, except—

He jolts as someone touches his arm. His eyes meet Eddie’s as he tries to control his breathing. “Shit, Steve,” Eddie’s saying. “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” Steve says, on autopilot, then abruptly stands. “I’m gonna-” he gestures vaguely upstairs.

Eddie stands too, hands out like he’s not sure what to do. Steve’s not sure what to do, either. “Steve…” he shakes his head, steps forward. Steve fights himself as he steps back, hates the look on Eddie’s face. Hates himself for the look on Eddie’s face.

“Sorry,” he murmurs, “I’m sorry, I’m fine, I’ll be… I’m gonna…”

“Steve,” Eddie says, and suddenly Steve thinks Eddie would be really good with animals. “Can I touch you?”

Steve bites his lip, looks away, crosses his arms, uncrosses them, nods. Eddie’s hands come into his field of view, slowly, like he’s trying not to scare Steve away, slowly, slowly, hands then arms then torso, and suddenly Eddie is hugging Steve and Steve is all but collapsing into it.

They sit on the couch together, Eddie’s arms still around Steve’s chest, and what should feel confining just feels comfortable. Steve forces himself to breathe normally. “Can I ask what that was about?” Eddie asks, his voice reverberating through his chest into Steve’s.

Steve takes a deep breath. Then another. Then says, “Nancy. She- when we-” he shakes his head. “It’s stupid.”

“It’s not,” Eddie says. “Not if it’s affecting you like this.”

“You’re starting to sound like Robin.”

“Then you’d better listen,” Eddie teases gently. “Cause you know Robin only wants the best for you.”

Steve sighs again. He can’t even argue with that. “When we broke up. That’s what she called me. Called…” he waved a hand around to signify that whole scenario, let his voice trail off and his hand drop. “So. I, uh. I hear that word, and it… reminds me of that.”

“Shit, Steve,” Eddie murmurs again, then suddenly freezes. “Wait, is it just that word? The two parts together? Or-”

Steve manages half a laugh. “You can say shit. It’s fine. Or bull. Just… together, it…”

“Got it,” Eddie nods. “Won’t say it.”

“But it’s stupid, I need to get over it-”

“Nope. Nuh-uh. Already erased from my mental dictionary. It’s no longer a word. What are we even talking about? There’s no word. Nothing there. Nope. What’s between, uh, bulls and bull… uh… whatever comes after that. There’s nothing between them.”

Steve’s laughing now, a real laugh that makes him feel weak, leaning further into Eddie’s arms. And Eddie’s laughing too, squeezing him a little, and even with the circumstances Steve doesn’t think he’s ever been so content.

“Thank you,” he murmurs when they both calm down. “That helped. A lot.”

“You’re welcome,” Eddie says happily. “You’re okay now?”

Steve grins wryly. “Still fucked in the head, but yeah. I think so.”

Eddie chuckles and leans back, still in Steve’s space but no longer holding him. “So, back to what we were talking about before. What kinda fucked in the head happened with the concussions?”

Steve shrugs. “Some things you’d expect. My memory’s pretty shit now. I get headaches, migraines sometimes. I can’t hear very well out of my left ear. I’ve learned to lip read, for the most part. It can be difficult in a crowded room sometimes, but it’s fine. I really am fine.”

Eddie smiles, shakes his head. “New normal?”

“New normal,” Steve agrees with a nod.

Eddie grins suddenly and stands. Steve mourns the loss of his touch, then immediately forces those thoughts back down. “So. We could go to bed.”

Steve raises a brow. “Or?”

“Or I could grab my lunchbox from the van.”

Steve laughs. “Think I’d prefer that option tonight.”

Eddie grins even wider and walks out, sauntering back in a minute later, lunchbox swinging from two fingers. “Get ready,” Eddie teases, and Steve laughs again.

“How much do I owe you?”

Eddie frowns like Steve had said elephants have purple polka dots. “Dude, no,” he says. “We’re getting high together.”

“Eds, c’mon, I know this stuff ain’t cheap.”

“Someone woulda smoked it anyways. Might as well be us. Tell you what, you find a lighter and we’re even.”

Steve looks at him, studies him for a second, then smiles and nods. “Deal.”

Pt 5

[agentmika]

so incredibly terminally fandom brained that I decided to read through the am i a lesbian masterdoc in full for the first time ever earlier today while at the airport and i started thinking about eddie diaz when it talked about feeling performative in relationships and trying to escalate the relationship b/c it "feels like the right time, or the other person is interested" rather than genuine desire to do so