#Eddie munson conflict

[ericaand]

Why is JQ not as attractive anymore?!

Ok, I KNOW I'm going to get hate for this but why isn't Joseph as attractive as he was? Like, did I have some freaky rose colored glasses on or some shit?

I cannot be the only one who feels this way. Help a girl out. I'm so confused rn. But he just seems different to me. IDK jfkengkso;

[paperbackribs]

werewolf steve, werebat eddie (ch3)

🐺🛌🦇🥺

It’s the quiet conviction that he’s in the wrong bed that wakes Eddie the next morning. The mattress too soft, the pillow too thick, and the boy next to him is an unwavering, giant red flag too. He sighs, hand under his cheek and contemplates the sleep-creased face of Steve Harrington next to little old Eddie Munson.

And he thought turning into a bat was going to be the only weird part of this weekend.

Steve snuffles, twitching his nose before falling back into a steady breathing rhythm again. And Eddie would like to deny how cute it is, would like to refuse to see how handsome Steve is, and would very much like to pinch the thin river of greed winding through him that would like the chance to have a fun, kind guy too. Someone who stirs Eddie, makes him laugh. But that’s not his fate in this lifetime.

He turns onto his back, staring directly above at the bubble pattern of the ceiling and determinedly focusing on more important matters.

Like the fact that he’s a bat now.

Apparently.

Rubbing his eyes with his thumb and forefinger, he wonders what the hell to do with that knowledge. It’s not going to get him anywhere; there’s no big corporation that wants to hire bat services. Last he heard, the ability to squeak wasn’t going to land him a record deal. Eddie huffs out a laugh, maybe he can get into acting. Take this gig out on the road.

No, just like having to watch a girl be brutally murdered in front of him and only barely scraping past that hack job Hawkins PD called an investigation, Eddie is going to have to take his lumps and keep moving.

He peers at the awful plaid wallpaper of the bedroom. Unsurprised by the banality of it, the hint of wasted money on lack of taste, but he is surprised by the pleasant abundance of greenery across the whole space. Potted plants crowd every available surface, some with trailing vines flowing over containers hanging from the ceiling. Even with the window closed, the room smells fresh, a clean sweetness to the air that matches the shiningly healthy and obviously well-cared for leaves, flowers and, he peers closer, herbs.

He wonders whether Steve dug these out of the woods with his big furry paws or if he’d bought them at the local nursery. Looking at the array of sizes and colourful patterns on the clay pots he figures that Steve shelled out a decent amount of money for his botanical set-up.

It twinges something in Eddie. Steve, just as taken in by the Upside Down, doomed to forever be a half-man and half-beast too, but sleeping peacefully within an oasis of his creation, sheltered by the tall walls of the Harrington home, with friends who love him, who don’t care about the monster within.

It feels unfair.

Because what is Eddie now? A monster? Maybe. A creature? Definitely. This new change in his life won’t make it any better, it won’t give him any advantages. It’s just one more thing he’s going to have to hide. To squirrel away like a tender thing lest the soft belly of it be exposed to the type of people who would hurt him.

Hurt, he knows, comes in many different forms. From a father believing your best value is in using small hands to boost a car, in the indifference of a mother leaving you on your uncle’s doorstep, on your best friend pushing you to the floor when you try to kiss him.

He looks over at the effortlessly handsome features of Steve, at his expensive and beautiful room, and thinks that whatever risk Steve carries, it is nothing like the one Eddie would be exposed to if his new secret got out.

He spots a familiar animal on the cover of a book on the bedside table. Curiously, he picks it up, flicking his eyes over the types of bats in the world, their characteristics, advice on care, and other little random facts.

Steve stirs, smacking his lips his eyelashes flutter before his gaze opens to land on Eddie bent over the book. He’s under the blanket that Eddie lays over; his bat version must have crawled out of the hoodie at some point but remained on top of the bed. Last night had been a blur and he doesn’t remember much except panic followed by Steve’s warm hands.

“Hey,” Steve smiles sleepily, “You came back to us.”

Eddie grunts, “Yeah, not sure exactly how that happened, but small blessings and all that.” He scans the feeding behaviour header, noting that blood is indeed amongst fruit, insects, and nectar as their preferred diet. Pausing, he tastes his mouth like it’ll suddenly reveal an obvious craving for bloody flesh. Meeting only morning breath, he grimaces and continues reading.

Finally realising that Steve has been silent for an unusually long pause, he glances over only to be startled by the intent look in his eye as he regards Eddie. “Are you okay?” He asks quietly and Eddie bristles at the concern, resentment stirring that Steve gets to be the kind one. The guy who cares despite being similarly afflicted. Why can’t he be just as resentful and mean as Eddie?

“Well, it’s not a giant dog, but I suppose you should welcome me to the club.”

Steve purses his lips thoughtfully, “I’ll ignore the canine dig for now since I know you’re going through something. But I get it, you know? If you can talk to anyone about being suddenly faced with the oddity of waking up in a body that no longer feels like your own, it’s me.”

Eddie rolls his eyes down at the book, “Our life experiences are vastly different, Steve. I don’t think you could get where I’m coming from if you tried.”

“Maybe not all of it,” Steve admits carefully, sitting up so he and Eddie are on the same level, “But I can try. And it’s got to be better than holding it in. You’re a pretty verbal guy, Eddie. I figure’d you’d want to talk about this.”

“What’s that mean?” Eddie glares at him and Steve raises his palms, saying, “Just that you seem to like talking your thoughts out, and that I’m here, willing to listen if you want to get anything off your chest.”

“Yeah, well, you can keep that hairy chest to yourself,” Eddie mutters darkly, looking at a bat’s mouth held open, exposing sharp fangs from front to back like a deadly, serrated knife. He presses his tongue against his molars thoughtfully; he doesn’t remember there being a lot of sharp tools in his mouth.

“Right,” Steve huffs out a frustrated breath, “You’re obviously in a mood. But fair, you’re allowed to take a beat until you get your feet under you.”

“I’m allowed,” Eddie mocks under his breath.

Steve cocks his head, “Yeah, you’re allowed. Just like I was allowed to take a beat too, once I figured out that turning into a wolf wasn’t a hallucination or a mental breakdown.” Eddie ignores him and Steve says with frustration, “What’s your problem?”

As he does, Eddie’s eyes catch on a fun fact section, and he can’t help the grim laughter that escapes. Of course. Of fucking course. He hears the mounting irritation in Steve’s voice as he calls his name again and latches on to it, happy to smack back. “Did you know, Steve,” Eddie starts, meanness fuelling his smirk, only he has a feeling that the petty feeling is directed inwards. “That bats have the highest rate of homosexuality out of any mammal?”

Steve watches him warily, “Are you saying that the shift turned you gay? ‘Cause I’m not sure it works like that,” his lips tug up cautiously, “It didn’t for me, anyway.”

Eddie sees the invitation to share the joke in Steve’s expression and it fuels the bitterness, “Yeah, well, you being a straight dog isn’t going to surprise anyone.”

Invitation dropping accompanied by eyes narrowing, Steve says, “That’s fucking condescending.” Eddie sees the insult across his face and rolls his eyes, conviction spreading that Steve has never had to think about how he presents to the world for one fucking minute before being afflicted with their shared infection.

“All I’m saying is that the wolf stuff may have made you a bit weird, but you were never gay-boy-in-Hawkins weird to begin with. Let alone the shitty kid from the shitty family with parents who don’t give a fuck.”

Steve’s eyes harden and he sucks his breath between his teeth consideringly, “I’m not sure whether I should share with you how wrong you are or simply tell you to fuck off.”

Eddie stares back just as hard, “You can’t tell me that you were ever the weird guy, Mr Popular Jock. What? Did you get ostracised from the team when you wore the wrong lucky jock strap?”

Rolling his lips, Steve nods his head decisively, “Yeah, you know what? I am going to tell you to fuck off.” Any hint of warmth in his expression shutters away and Eddie blinks, not having realised how open Steve had been with him even while they bickered. Steve continues, voice flat and unfriendly, “You know what your problem is, Eddie?”

“What?” He tries to sneer but the feeling of being wrong-footed continues and it lands with less force than he wants.

“You think you’ve got everyone worked out,” Steve trails his eyes over Eddie's face leaving his skin feeling flushed and burning, “What was it you said in the Upside Down? The Munson Doctrine? I was barely enough for you to approve of even then, right?”

The ground beneath Eddie’s feet shudders slightly, shaking his gut into an uneasy feeling but Steve doesn’t notice his suddenly shaky equilibrium as he bitingly continues, “I suppose I only met the bare minimum when you said that I was a good guy: I wasn’t a massive asshole that would allow you to take the rap for Chrissy’s murder or, I don’t know,” he laughs with very little humour, “Let Max be killed by Vecna? So that must mean I was scarcely half decent, right?”

Eddie frowns: he had meant what he said in the Upside Down — he’d seen Steve care for the party, chase after Max and make sure the kids were safe. He’d been a steady port in the storm who Eddie had looked to more than once while feeling unsafe and unsure, and Steve had always been looking back, with either a reassuring nod or a helpful explanation in the sort of plain speak necessary for a newbie to their wretched adventures.

Steve rolls out of bed and Eddie can’t even be mad that he might use his height to his advantage because he heads straight to the doorway, pausing with his hand steady on the frame. He shakes his head looking down, “I thought that you saw me. It didn’t have to be every part, but I thought that you at least saw that I’m trying to be a good person.”

He looks up and Eddie is pierced clean through by the hurt in his eyes, the walls falling briefly to allow this one sad glimpse, “But ever since I showed you who I really am, what I am, I’ve realised that your approval comes with conditions.”

“That’s not true,” Eddie protests, furiously thinking, but his gut sinks below his feet when he can’t work out a counterargument to the accusation.

The walls over Steve’s eyes swiftly build up again, leaving only a cold man in its wake. “You assuming how easy I’ve always had it tells me that you never cared enough to look below the surface anyway.” He regards Eddie for one last long second as if taking him in for the final time, and Eddie is unsure how to respond when the ground is rumbling so strongly under his feet.

Steve leaves.

Quietly and without looking back at Eddie. No fanfare in the movement as if he’s decided that he’s not worth the fight. He realises now that he’d expected Steve to push back, to argue for Eddie to do better, but—having left him behind—Eddie doesn’t know what to do other than to quietly take his book and leave.

No one sees him out.

If you enjoyed any of this, I hope you'll consider leaving a message over on Ao3 because you would make my day. :)

[withacapitalp]

Eddie is okay with his flaws. 

Not even in the bullshit way that people pretend to be okay with the things they don’t like about themselves, or the stupid thing they say to do in interviews where you make all your flaws a strength. Eddie’s genuinely okay with the things he’s not good at. 

He knows that he can be impatient, and rash, and sometimes a little self-absorbed. He’s fine with the fact that his memory is selective at best, downright terrible at worst. Eddie’s even good with the fact that most people in the town hate him, because he knows the truly good people don’t. 

But there’s one thing he really can’t accept about himself. One feeling that he knows is wholly irrational, incredibly stupid, and liable to make Steve break up with him if he ever figures out how deep it is. 

And Eddie fucking hates himself for it…

But he’s 100% jealous of Robin. 

It’s just hard to watch at times, hard to know that Steve is the most important person in his world, but he is not the most important person in Steve’s. 

Eddie isn’t even sure if he’s the second most important. That might belong to Dustin, or Max, or any of the kids. Hell Eddie might be 9th important, and the thought of that fills the wrathful angry part of him with blinding rage. 

He would be fine if it was the kids. He would be okay if he was the 8th most important person in Steve’s life. A mother should care about his children first shouldn’t he? That is logical, and Eddie can live with logic.

But Robin is before them all, and Eddie knows it. 

And it’s kind of killing him. 

[metalhoops]

Steve never liked the cities. 

They were always too crowded, too noisy. He liked Hawkins. He liked a quiet life in the suburbs. It was part of the reason he’d never gone to college, that and having to worry about his adopted band of misfit kids and the hell dimension that opened every year. Yet, somehow he found himself on a weekend trip to Chicago.

It was all Eddie’s fault. He had to pick some things up from a music store in town for the band, he’d mention strings or amps. Steve only half understood. It was an excuse for Eddie to take his van to Chicago. Steve had been surprised to find himself invited.

“You never leave town since Vecna went dark, dude. How are you going to travel around with six kids and a Winnebago if you never leave Hawkins?” Eddie asked, somehow managing to convince Steve to join him. 

They took turns driving Eddie’s van.  Eddie’s choice of music was questionable, but his version of road trip games was even more worrisome. They’d been travelling behind an old truck for the better part of an hour when Eddie kicked his feet on the dash and questioned,

“What do you think would be the worst way to die right now? Because I’ve spent the past half hour watching that guy’s toolbox rattle around and I’m convinced a nail gun to the head would be a killer way to go.” 

Steve should’ve known better, but he’d give anything for a distraction from the long stretch of road. 

“Probably getting set on fire at a pump while you insist you need a smoke the second we pulled over at the last gas station,” Steve noted, switching on his indicator and passing the vehicle, using all the horsepower the poor-beat up van had. 

“And here I was thinking I had a twisted imagination,” Eddie spoke, before listing off a series  of more gruesome scenarios. 

By the time the two reached their motel, Steve felt strangely lighter. Whether it was the distance from Hawkins and the trouble it had caused him or because he and Eddie had spent an hour listing out worst-case scenarios until they felt comical and absurd instead of real and imminent threats, he didn’t know. Being trapped in a town with a rip in the fabric of space and time had a way of making you always feel on your guard. That night the two slept quickly and soundlessly. 

It was when they walked through town Steve remembered why he hated cities. He was left shuffling through unfamiliar streets, elbow to elbow with strangers, trying desperately to keep up with Eddie as the man weaved and ebbed with the crowd as Steve used to slice through water. Eddie was one with the city. Steve was apart from it.

Without thinking, Steve reached out, grabbing onto the hem of Eddie’s jacket, letting himself be guided. Eddie showed him where to step, how to move. He kept his head down and followed Eddie’s lead to the music store. Much to his surprise, when they were all done, and once more ready to head back into the fray of the foot traffic, Eddie offered the crook of his elbow for Steve to hold onto. 

“Hey, it’s easier than you almost tugging a hole in a perfectly good jacket. You don’t have a good track record, Harrington,” Eddie teased. He had a point. 

He hadn’t meant to make a habit of it. Yet the small action of latching onto Eddie to keep him at arm’s length followed the two back to Hawkins. 

The thing about hanging out with Eddie was that the man was surprisingly hard to keep up with. He was always rushing places at the drop of a hat, jerked one way or the other by whatever flight of fancy caught his attention. 

He’d be beside Steve at the Family Video store one minute, then darting to the horror section driven there by some tangential conversation, which then of course, would lead him to remember some old sci-fi film and send him running to the sci-fi section, only to find it lacking. That would lead him to Robin and their extensive movie catalogue on the computer, all the while, he’d still be talking to Steve. He found it easier to keep up with Eddie if he had a hold of him. 

He’d find his fingers tucked into the crook of Eddie’s elbow, hooked in the chain of his jeans or clinging to the cuff or hem of his shirt and trailing in the wake of him. 

Contrary to popular belief, Steve wasn’t an idiot. Not when it came to social situations. He knew being extra touchy with Eddie was something he could only do in certain situations. He was hyper-aware of it when he’d made the mistake of hooking his thumb into the back pocket of Eddie’s jeans in the arcade. The two had driven the kids there and were wasting time bouncing between watching the kids and playing pinball. 

A group of teenagers had been gawking at the two already, likely trying to work out what twist of fate had landed the former king of Hawkins High and current school Freak together. With the action, the mumbled whispers turned into slack jaws and less favourable words muttered just loud enough for Steve to hear. 

Steve wasn’t an idiot. He knew what it looked like. He would be lying if he said he didn’t want it to be like that, not that he’d voiced any of it. Not yet. He needed to do it in a town where people didn’t know his name, so people wouldn’t talk if he was reading Eddie all wrong. He didn’t think he was, he was good with reading people. 

In a crowd, holding onto Eddie was okay.  On their increasingly frequent trips to the city, Indianapolis, Chicago, and Fort Wayne. When no one else could see, that was okay. In small-town Hawkins, in broad daylight, it wasn’t. 

Steve suddenly understood the appeal of the city.  

[scoops-aboy86]

well in that case,,, ♠️♥️

had a lovely idea of Eddie working at a diner and sort of getting pressured into eating what the customers send back; initially started as Eddie just asking to keep the food and since the staff see how skinny he is they're like grandma's always trying to feed their grandkids. This unintentionally becomes the norm and since he's a little shy in telling the grannies no thank you, he keeps going along with it. Unfortunately for him Steve, Tommy, and the one redhead girl tend to come in and be shitheads and they somehow always find “something wrong” with their food which ends in them basically getting a free meal. His loose apron grows tighter and tighter, belly spilling out the sides throughout the months and poor boy is always a little nauseous from pounding it back in between shifts. What's worse is the fact that nearly all the weight clung to his stomach meaning it's on full display even with the apron covering him and Tommy Hagan never let's him forget just how much he’s “porked up”. 🐷

I feel like you were thinking this would be set during high school, but I started writing and that’s not what ended up coming out. (That would be so much fun too, I’m just not in the headspace for writing mean girl era Steve at the moment.)

When I put this on ao3 the title is going to be “Kitchen Pig,” in honor of Tommy being an asshat and calling Eddie a garbage disposal.

~

It’s a quiet day at the diner but it’s already been a long shift, and Eddie is full. Just the right combination of patrons have come through so far—grannies missing their grandkids because their children got the hell out of Hawkins at first opportunity like sensible people and little old ladies who never had kids but have all this grandmotherly energy with no other outlet, mostly. They come in for the early bird specials and stay to dote on him, ordering extras and giving it to him because “you look dead on your feet, honey” or “you’re just so skinny!”

Which was fine a few pant sizes ago, but now that he's decidedly not skinny anymore it’s become routine. Just like it’s routine for Eddie to go along with it, because the handful of times he’s tried the combination of guilt and lightheadedness as his body tried to run on sensible portions of healthy things eaten at reasonable intervals had trained him not to bother resisting. Maintaining his former beanpole appearance isn’t more important than a paycheck, or not tripping over his own feet and whacking his head on something on the way down. (Only happened once, and he’d come out of his daze already sucking down the sugary soda and plowing through pieces of buttered toast that his own boss had foisted on him. Resistance, apparently, is futile.) 

He’s gotten to where eating is the only thing that keeps his mood steady while dealing with the roller coaster that is the service industry, and his only regret when he sees the couple that just came in is that he’s too full already to scarf down the slice of cake that Ethel Butler had ordered but barely touched, too preoccupied with showing Eddie the pictures her daughter-in-law had sent of the new baby. 

With a sigh, Eddie makes the extra effort to adjust himself, tries to get his shirt tucked into his pants without unsettling the apron that passes as a uniform. Tommy fucking Hagan is always ten times more likely to give him shit if it rides up; Carol Perkins, that gum-snapping bitch, always pretends to make sex moans while eating whenever Eddie passes, regardless of how he looks. All damn summer while they’re home from college. 

See? Routine. 

What’s not routine is that Steve Harrington is with them. 

And look, Eddie gets it. He and Steve are friends, but Steve had known Tommy and Carol since kindergarten. The three had split, and rightly so, back in ‘83 because the latter two were miserable assholes. Eddie would argue that that hasn’t changed, based on all his encounters with them any time they’re around. He hasn’t made this argument to Steve only because Steve is so optimistic about his former best friends growing into better versions of themselves now that they’ve seen more of the world, maybe had some sense finally knocked into them the way he had. It’s a nice thought. Eddie would love it if that were the case, because it would make Steve happy and he… likes Steve a lot. A normal amount! Because they’re very good friends. 

People who choose Hawkins, though, all seem to have something in common, even if Tommy and Carol come by it in a much different way than the old ladies. 

“Oh waiter,” Tommy calls out a few minutes after Eddie has brought the trio their orders. Like fucking clockwork. He doesn’t even listen to what the imaginary problem is, he’s heard it all by now: found a hair, food’s undercooked, food’s overcooked, too slimy, too dry, not enough salt, tastes like licking a salt-lick. What-fucking-ever. 

“I’ll get you something else,” Eddie says blandly, not looking at Steve as he takes the plate and turns to head for the kitchen. 

“Yeah yeah, as long as I’m not charged for this shit.” Tommy waves him off with a smirk, waiting until Eddie is half turned away before he adds, “Enjoy the extra snack, lardass.”

Carol giggles. “Do you think he’ll wait until he’s in the kitchen again, or is he finally fat enough he’ll just unhinge his jaw right here?”

Eddie freezes. Waits for Steve to say… anything, really. But when he glances back, Steve’s face is bright red, his lips pressed together so tight they’ve gone pale and a pained, uncertain look on his handsome face. 

It stings. And later Eddie can blame that hurt on what he turns back and does next, because he’s a big boy in  more than one sense; he can take what they throw at him because he’s been putting up with bullies his entire life. But right now he wants to look Steve square in the eyes and say Look, this is what they do. This is what you want to reconnect with. You’re really going to stay quiet?

“Hey Frankie,” Eddie calls over his shoulder, not quite breaking eye contact with the table. “Redo the entire order for table seven, okay? I gotta take my fifteen.”

His boss, who usually only allows ten minute breaks but knows all about these assholes and wouldn’t stand between Eddie and taking them down a peg or two, hollers back an affirmative while Eddie unties his apron. 

“Ooh, whatcha gonna do, Freak?” Tommy taunts. “Challenge me to a fight in the parking lot? You’re so out of shape, I bet even Steve here could take you. Hell, even Carol, couldn’t you baby?”

“He’d probably get winded just walking there,” she scoffs, but there’s a wary look in her eye that only intensifies when Eddie steps closer to the table. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” Tommy asks, at the same moment Eddie says, “Scoot over, Harrington, I’m coming in.”

“Steve, don’t—”

But Steve is already shifting, ignoring Tommy, watching Eddie with big eyes that he can practically see the reflection of his own crazy-edged grin in. It’s one the kids in Hellfire know well from the punishing twists to his campaigns, and Steve knows from hanging out together ever since Spring Break last year. The one that did a lot of the heavy lifting to earn him the name Freak in the first place, all the way back in middle school when his head was still shaved. 

“Since I’m on my break now,” Eddie says with forced brightness, grin still in place, and setting Tommy’s rejected plate down in front of himself. Glances over and steals Steve’s fork and knife right out of his hands to dig into a big plate of huevos rancheros. “Oh damn,” Eddie comments with his mouth full, “you really don’t know your food, do you? Nothing wrong with this at all. That’s because Frankie knows his shit.”

There’s a distant clang from the kitchen and a muffled, “Damn right!”

“Mm—too bad you have zero taste.” Eddie levels a look at Tommy and Carol, sitting stiffly on the other side of the booth, looking as though a deer in the headlights had suddenly taken off its hoves, wiggled its fingers, and climbed into their car to hitch a ride. To his side, he can feel Steve’s warm presence and wishes it were a reassurance, rather than a possible liability. He doesn’t think the guy will push him out on his ass, but if these are the kind of jokers Steve wants to associate with? It never hurts to be prepared. 

So, Eddie stays alert as he can while he tucks into his impromptu meal. This isn’t one of his go-to entrees but it’s good, filling his mouth with rich, heavy flavors and lighting him up with the joy of savory food after a morning of nibbling on sugar-drenched waffles and pancakes. He takes a page out of Carol’s book, moaning through a full mouthful and hopefully ruining the taunt for her. Makes direct eye contact and does it again, dropping his table knife to place a soothing hand on his tightening belly. 

And it is tight, because he’d already been full. But Eddie Munson is not a runner these days; he’ll see this challenge through to the end. The stretch kind of feels good, after all the unintentional practice, and he knows he hasn’t hit his limit yet despite the discomfort. 

So he smirks in victory at the disgusted face Carol makes and takes bigger bites. The beans and salsa and egg, the tortillas that sop up all the favors, it all goes down surprisingly easy. If some of it drips onto his shirt, so what? Apron’ll cover that up. Uncaring, he spreads his legs (bumping up as against Steve’s warm thigh on one side) to give himself more room to expand, stealing Steve’s glass and taking several big gulps of Coke to wash down the last bites of Tommy’s food. 

“Aw yeah, hit the spot,” Eddie sighs once he’s scraped the plate as clean as possible with just a fork. He pats his belly with feeling, a few audible slaps, and it wobbles where it muffins out over the top of his pants, shirt already half untucked below the table despite his efforts earlier. 

Carol’s nose is still scrunched up and he hopes it sticks that way. “Well I’ve lost my appetite,” she announces, giving her own plate a dainty little push away. “I’m surprised this place even manages to stay open with you around, eating the customers’ food like a pig.”

Sensing another challenge, Eddie leans forward as if to investigate the food she’s rejecting. He already knows it’s tomato soup and grilled cheese, still hot from the kitchen, and he can feel his mouth watering in spite of himself. 

“Only the food they don’t want,” he replies easily, reaching forward and snagging it for himself. The bowl rattles on top of the plate as he drags it closer, ignoring the spoon still untouched on Carol’s napkin to go straight for dipping the sandwich in the soup and taking a big, dripping first bite. If he lets out a little moan again, no one has to know it’s for real. “People can be fickle, y’know,” he adds through a full mouth. “One minute they want what they ordered and the next they ditch it like miserable assholes. Not like that’s my fault, right? Or the food’s.” He swallows, takes the opportunity to glare and say more clearly, “You not liking something doesn’t mean it goes in the trash and rots. Who made you judge, jury, and executioner, huh?”

Steve stiffens beside him, and Eddie feels the sudden loss of him moving his leg away. And fine, yeah, he’d made a pact with Robin not to air how much they feel Tommy and Carol both suck and definitely don’t deserve Steve’s attempt to mend old bridges. Fuck it, though. If Steve won’t defend him then he’s on his own, right? The door swings both ways. Eddie didn’t start this. 

The tableau is interrupted by Frankie bringing out the three re-made plates himself, raising an exasperated eyebrow at Eddie. Naturally, Eddie responds by shrugging and then taking a large bite of soup-dunked grilled cheese. 

“Sir,” Carol says in an overly honeyed tone, “I’d like to make a formal complaint about our waiter. He’s—” she waves a hand in Eddie’s direction “—sitting at our table and eating our food.”

“Yeah,” Frankie grunts, just as exasperated as before regardless of the target. “And you kids always pull this one way’r another any time you come in. At least someone’s eatin’ it.” 

“We’re not kids,” Tommy says impatiently. “We’re in college.” (Again, Eddie feels Steve flinch slightly at his side, because only two of the people at this table are college students.) “Is this really how you treat paying customers?”

“You ain’t paid yet,” Frankie retorts with finality. He thunks the new plates down on the table and shuffles back to behind the counter, grumbling under his breath. Hard to make out what, but Eddie can guess it’s the one about spoiled brats with nothing to do but spend mommy and daddy’s money, that’s a pretty common one.

A moment later he returns to toss some to-go containers down too, along with the check, silently dropping the gauntlet. Because sure, it’s a quiet day, but this is the only diner in Hawkins ever since Benny’s closed. Frankie isn’t hurting for customers and doesn’t give a shit about being rude to a couple college students, having even fewer customer service bones in his body than his currently off-duty employee. 

Eddie shoots Tommy a baleful grin across the table and takes another big bite of Carol’s abandoned lunch. Grilled cheese has always been a favorite of his, crunchy and gooey at the same time and perfectly accentuated by the tanginess of the tomato soup; he’s quite enjoying it, despite the tension. 

“Fuck this,” Tommy snaps, and starts to stand—when Steve finally makes a move, reaching across the table and closing one hand around Tommy’s forearm. 

“Tommy,” Steve says, and he sounds weary. “You should pay for your food. I’ll cover mine, but don’t dine and dash, man.”

The look on Tommy’s face is one part surprise, two parts petulant. “The fuck, Steve? We didn’t even eat anything, this garbage disposal did.” And he glares at Eddie like this is all his fault, as though he hadn’t started it. Eddie finishes the last of the first half of the sandwich in one huge bite to keep from hissing at him like a feral cat. 

“You asked for new food and they made it,” Steve replies flatly. “Come on.”

Eddie opens his mouth to say something sarcastic about leaving a tip for prompt service, but catches Steve’s warning look out of the corner of his eye and thinks better of it. 

Because Steve is a good guy, he helps box up their food. But he leaves his own two BLTs where they are and doesn’t go to follow them when they scoot out of their side of the booth, not even when they stand around awkwardly for a moment waiting for him to, what? Kick Eddie off the edge of the bench?

Probably. 

Instead, Steve stares Tommy down until even he gets a scowl. “You know what, Harrington? Fuck you. You think you’re so much better than us, because you stayed in this shithole and now everyone thinks you’re some sort of hero for helping rebuild it after the earthquake. Fine! It’s all yours. Hope you enjoy the smell of pig shit.” He shoots Eddie one more parting sneer. “Take that one to the county fair and you’ll probably even win a prize.”

They leave the diner, and Eddie turns to Steve to say… he’s not even sure what, some combination of good riddance and sorry for how much you got caught in the crossfire there man, probably. He’s already forgiven Steve for not speaking up, never able to hold anything against him for long. Doing so probably would have just made even more of a scene, anyway. 

But before he even can, Steve nods to the second half of the grilled cheese and says, “You should finish that.” And when Eddie just blinks at him, he points helpfully to the remaining grilled cheese and soup. “Don’t waste food, Eds.”

Which spins him a little because… is Steve mad at him? He doesn’t seem mad, but he can be good at hiding it sometimes and Eddie can’t tell. And if he’s not mad, then what is this?

“Come on, I know grilled cheese is your favorite.”

Slowly, Eddie brings the other half of the sandwich up to his mouth. He takes a big bite, out of habit. Chews and swallows. The food lands warm and heavy in his stomach, comforting even though he’s still uncertain. Steve watches the whole time, looking calm and collected and not at all like his childhood best friend just told him to go fuck himself. 

When he finishes that, Steve reaches for the plate with the extra BLT and moves it in front of Eddie. “Think you can fit a little more?”

Frankie’s BLTs aren’t what Eddie would call little. Without squishing it down, he actually might have to unhinge his jaw to get a full bite, and he’s eaten so much today already. But then Steve’s thigh bumps against his again, and Steve leans against his side just a little, and there’s a hand… Steve’s hand, slipping palm down between his belly and where it rests on his lap. 

“Um,” Eddie says stupidly. 

“I thought they would’ve grown up more,” Steve says quietly. “But then we got here, and they started saying shit to you… I'm not sorry for giving it a shot, but I’m sorry they’re such assholes. I should’ve at least made us go somewhere else so you didn’t get caught up in it. Thanks for what you said, about… about being fickle and ditching stuff. You’re a good guy, Eddie.”

“I try,” he replies, very much trying to not pop the world’s most inappropriately timed boner. Because even though his pants are cutting into his middle and his shirt has ridden a good inch or two all the way around and that means Steve is touching his bare skin right now, Eddie feels strangely comfortable. He’s off of his tired feet after a long shift, he’s so full that he aches a little, and the guy he—his best friend is close and warm, anchoring him so firmly in his body and the present moment that he feels everything. It’s overwhelming, but so good. 

“And the other reason we should’ve gone somewhere else,” Steve continues, his voice dropped to a smooth murmur now that makes Eddie shiver, “is because I didn’t realize how early you started today.”

Eddie swallows hard, barely processing the words. That tone is making his boner situation worse, and Steve, who is moving his hand in slow, aimless circles along his thigh, could notice it any minute now. He doesn’t want to have to explain it, but feels a hopeless little thrill at the prospect of trying. “My, uh. My shift’s almost over.”

“I can tell. Wanna know how?”

Does he? “Yeah…”

Three things happen in quick succession, bam bam bam. Steve’s breath hits his ear; his hand slides to where Eddie is very obviously chubbed up in his increasingly tight jeans; and Steve whispers, “You move differently when you’re full.”

“Oh fuck,” Eddie breathes, eyes fluttering shut. “Are you—Is this happening?”

An hour ago he’d been looking at baby pictures with a new grandma, and now Steve Harrington is feeling him up at work. 

Steve gives him a little squeeze that makes Eddie want to turn inside out, it feels so good. His blood is pounding in his ears and dick and stomach. “Yeah. Why, have I been running through your dreams?”

That is such a line, Eddie almost says, but apparently lines work with him when it’s Steve saying them. Instead, he nods. 

“Makes more sense than the other way around, doesn’t it?” he manages, hand patting his own belly again as though anyone looking at him could possibly miss what he means. 

“You’ve been in my dreams plenty,” Steve replies, making Eddie shiver again. “But yeah, you don’t do a lot of running in them. So… here’s an idea.” He takes a breath, the first suggestion of nerves Eddie has noticed so far. “If you still have room, I’ll take the rest of this to go and wait for you in my car. Your van’s still in the shop, right?”

Now Steve’s hand is rubbing again, a slow grinding up-down-up-down of his palm through denim that feels so exquisite it’s otherworldly. Eddie is fighting to keep his eyes from rolling back in his head. “Y-yeah…”

“Good. Call your uncle, tell him you don’t need a ride home. I’ll take all this and pull around back and wait for you… Do you have anything else set aside in the kitchen?”

For a second, part of Eddie thinks, Steve knows about that?! But that’s stupid, because he’s laughed about it with all his friends, the way the little old ladies fuss over him and insist he eat while he works—like they didn’t get the memo about the whole cultist, wanted murderer thing, or maybe don’t recognize him from the wanted posters. (He does wear less black and puts his hair up at work, after all.) Laughed about it more as he started to look plumper, went from overfed to overweight. 

What was it Steve had told him once? That… That he shouldn’t worry about it, because he wears it well. Jesus, if Eddie had known he meant it like this—

“Slice of cake,” he whispers, the only way he can stop it coming out as a moan. God, he’s so full and bloated, belly on display in a shirt that might never fit him again, but he wants that cake now. Wants to shove it in his face while Steve keeps touching him, never stop if that’s what it takes to keep his attention. “Ch-chocolate cake that Ethel didn’t eat.”

“Good. Bring that when you clock out,” Steve tells him. “And anything else you want. Maybe a few sodas? Since you sucked down half of mine like it was nothing.”

Eddie’s eyes fly to Steve’s face, but he doesn’t look annoyed. He looks kind of smug, but mostly… hungry. It sends sparks through Eddie’s entire body, that goddamn Harrington charm. 

“I want to see what you look like filled all the way up, big boy.”

The end of Eddie’s shift can’t come soon enough. He’s never moved so fast while already feeling this stuffed before, and Steve’s bright laughter follows him through snatching up all the cash on the table and booking it through the kitchen's swinging door, apron forgotten at the booth.

Permanent tag list (ask to be added): @hotluncheddie @lawrencebshoggoth @tangerinesteve

[sabbathbloodysabbeth]

Supernaut (Chapter 2)

Ahh here’s the next chapter to Supernaut! I’m so excited to share it with everyone and here’s the link to the ao3 :)

“Hey kid,” Wayne’s voice is rough and gravily as he talks. He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, that movement alone causing the trailer to make loud creaky noises. Wayne leans over at a slight angle, on the same side he was leaning most of his weight on, to peek into Eddie's room.

Eddie knew Wayne wouldn't just push his way into his room without permission. They each respected the other's boundaries too much to do that. Wayne had always preferred just peaking into his room to see if he was alright or needed anything, and if the door was closed Wayne knew not to bug him. It had been a working system for a while now.

”Yeah, Wayne?” That was the go-ahead for Wayne to slightly push the door open so he could talk to Eddie face-to-face. 

“I'm about to head out, need anything?” He asks as his eyes wander the room like he always did. It was a habit he had picked up from the army, always scanning a room to confirm that there was no danger. This is why Eddie wasn’t surprised when his Uncle raised an eyebrow at the numerous medical books and articles on his bed.

Similar to the door situation, they had created a system of just not asking. It would be much harder to explain than just ignoring it. Typically Eddie was doing research like this for a DnD campaign. Not for someone whose life depended on it. (He was being dramatic, but from how Steve Harrington looked he wouldn’t be surprised if his everyday life depended on what to do and not to do with the information this book was giving him.)

Eddie furrows his eyebrows, moving a hand to rub at his face. His eyes are beginning to strain from spending numerous hours reading. He had a small headache and his stomach growls from not getting up to grab lunch. He was starving but was too focused on the research to pay attention to such human problems. But he didn’t need to bother Wayne about that, Eddie knew how to fend for himself.

“Nope, not that I can think of.” Eddie hums gently. He wiggles around in his spot when he begins to feel what parts of his body fell asleep, such as his ass. 

Eddie offers a small smile to his uncle, who simply gives him a hand gesture to get the boy to go back to whatever he is doing. “Alright, see you in the morning kiddo.” 

When Eddie knows his Uncle is safely in his truck and out of the driveway he dives back into his research. Chewing his lip and pencil as he kept scanning and reading intensely when he found something that could mean something and be understandable.

As time progressed, he was beginning to realize that some medical stuff contradicted itself. One paper said not to sleep for twenty-four hours after a concussion and the next said to get as much rest as possible, even within the first twenty-four hours. Eddie makes sure to take note of this.

“Keep an eye on the patient for repeated vomiting, worsening headaches, visual problems, problems sleeping, trouble balancing, dilated pupils, and problems walking. To have a speedier recovery make sure the patient avoids any physical activity that can lead to another concussion, along with driving, watching too much television, using any illegal substances, or consuming alcohol. If anything worsens you should see a licensed professional immediately.” 

The more he read the more concerned Eddie was for Steve Harrington. He hadn’t paid much attention to the guy but from the short time he had talked to him, he was checking off a decent amount of things that were “noteworthy” and serious enough for a doctor to get involved.

Eddie doesn’t even bother writing that all down, instead he pulls a highlighter out and highlights the entire paragraph to read to Steve when he sees him next. 

He didn't care if the library yelled at him for "Ruining" their book. He's sure that the next person who would be checking this out would be another Steve Harrington. Another Steve Harrington who didn't have time to read over three hundred pages worth of nonsense that doesn't even give any new knowledge. Just common sense like avoiding getting hit in the head. It didn't take a supersonic genius to figure that one out, Sherlock.

Eddie secretly hoped the next person who needed this book, like Steve does, could just skim through the book and find that paragraph.

He figures that he has done enough for the night, and learned all he could to help Steve Harrington. So he allows himself one dramatic flop into his bed before grabbing a leftover joint off his side table. After all of that reading, he deserved one.

However, what he didn’t like to admit was how much anxiety he currently felt over Steve Harrington.

*****

The next day Eddie got up and ready for school much faster than normal. On average, he was out the door by the second period and on campus for the fourth. The perfect time to show up to school as his lunch was fifth.

Today though he had some motivation to get to school on time. He had finished his research the night before and was eager to share it with Steve. (And collect his money of course.)

He had all his research collected and in a normal schoolbag, an item he rarely brings to school. Before he started dealing his drugs from his lunch pal, he used to carry them around in a bag. But it had clashed with the whole metalhead image and was more inconvenient.

He was only bringing one now because of the number of research articles he had snatched. He was a clumsy fool and probably would lose everything if he didn’t secure it in a bag. 

Eddie was eager to share all the information with Steve as soon as possible. It had only been a week since he made the deal with the other in the library, but with everything he learned that still felt like it was too long of a wait.

So he sucked up it and woke up much earlier than he typically would and raced himself to school. He was hoping if he got to school early he would be able to catch Steve in the parking lot and pull the bandaid off quickly. Then afterward drive back home to sleep until lunch period.

Much to his disappointment, Steve’s car was nowhere. Eddie groans as he taps his fingers on his steering wheel, distracted by looking for Steve to notice a familiar figure walking up to his window. 

Gareth's loud knocking makes Eddie jump, completely startled by the sudden noise. Eddie snaps his head to look out his window to see an agitated Gareth peering up at him. His fists were clenching tightly around the straps of his bag and Eddie was confident he could see the flames of hellfire in his eyes.

Eddie makes an over-the-top face at the other as he turns his head back to look behind him before pointing at himself. “You want me?” he mouths out to the other.

"Munson!" Gareth's yell could easily be heard through the glass, which was just a little scary as Eddie had ‘Escape’ by Metallica blaring at full volume. 

Eddie quickly moves to lock his door but the boy seems to catch onto what he is trying to do and quickly pulls the door open. Eddie nearly falls out head first but quickly regains balance by grabbing Gareth's shoulders.

When Eddie was confident he wouldn’t get a concussion, he looked back up at Gareth who was visibly annoyed.

"Hey there buddy!" Eddie's soft accent pops out from the current excitement at hand. 

"Eddie, why are you here?"

"Where?-" Eddie tries to start but Gareth begins to scrunch up his nose, which is never a good sign and Eddie is quick to change what he's about to say, "Oh here! In this fine establishment? Well, I am here to learn Gare bear like any other kid here. You know this is going to be the year I graduate you know? I should take it a bit more seriously shouldn't I?" He was pulling all of that out of his ass and Gareth knew that as well.

Gareth keeps a blank expression on his face and now Eddie isn’t so sure his chances of avoiding a concussion were one to none. He needed to defuse whatever this bomb was and quick.

“Eddie you never show up to school before the fifth period.” Gareth squints at him, “Hell you haven’t woken up past fourth period since the first day of school. So tell me, why are you here this early and why the hell did you not pick me up? I live just up the road from you dude.” His face was a light red, from either being incredibly angry with Eddie or from the mile walk between his house and Hawkins High.

Eddie opens his mouth to say something but is quick to put his most charming smile on as he hops down from his van. He was secretly grateful he didn’t toss his bag in the passenger seat or else Gareth would have been even more suspicious of him.

“Gary, if we drop this and never bring any of this situation up again I shall award you with whatever you want in the campaign tonight.” That was a pretty steep offer but Eddie really didn’t want to seem like a dick friend. He honestly forgot Gareth this morning. 

His offer seems to work in his favor as interest sparks in Gareth's eyes. Gareth is about to say something when from the corner of Eddie’s eye he sees the exact vehicle he was hoping to see moments prior. 

Eddie can’t help but visibly cringe when he realizes that the book recommended a person with a concussion doesn’t drive for a couple of weeks. And from context clues, Steve Harrington had a concussion.

“Eddie?” Gareth speaks louder this time, moving his head in front of Eddie's vision so that he could see him. “Hey did you hear me?” His voice is now growing slightly concerned as he turns his head to look where Eddie is looking. It was very out of character for Eddie not to pay attention to what he was saying. They were best friends after all.

Gareth also sees Steve, the only person Eddie could be looking at step out of his car. From the limited view Eddie had, Gareth looked even more confused. Which was exactly what he was hoping to avoid by getting this whole transaction done sooner rather than later.

Eddie quickly glances back at Harrington, who is stumbling over his feet as he places a hand over his right ear wincing about something. When it was clear the other wasn’t going to fall on his face Eddie turned his attention back on Gareth slightly confused. 

“Huh?” 

“You alright dude? You're not normally this distracted,” Gareth points out warily as he keeps glancing between Eddie and in the direction of Steve.

“Yeah, yeah. I am completely fine my dude.” Eddie awkwardly sticks up two of his thumbs before he moves backward to shut his door. Cursing when he realizes he just locked his key in the van. 

“Fuck!” he curses as he quickly turns to smack at his door. 

“Eddie!” Gareth groans loudly. Moving to the back of the van to kick the back door at a slight angle resulting in it popping open pretty easily. A trick that Eddie purposely implemented just in case of emergencies. (Just like this one) Don’t ask him how he did it, not even he knows.

“I forgot about that.” 

“Eddie, are you going to tell me what's seriously going on?” Gareth squints at his friend. Eddie opens his mouth to only shut it again when he remembers Steve didn’t want him bringing anyone else in on this whole thing.

Taking the hint that Eddie wasn’t going to tell him Gareth sighs, “You aren’t dealing again are you?” He asks in a hushed whisper, his right hand gesturing to the backpack that was on the van floor just a few inches from them.

Eddie opens his mouth trying to act offended but he can’t. If he was Gareth he would think he was dealing again too. Opening his mouth again, he groans loudly when he realizes the only way he could convince the other boy he wasn’t selling was to bring him in on the whole Steve Harrington ordeal.

He moves quickly and shoves Gareth into the back of the van, like he has done multiple times in the past. When he was sure the other was safely in the back he hops in and joins him. Grunting gently as he feels a rip in his pants grows bigger. He quickly shuts the van door and looks back at Gareth. He was being dramatic but boy did he enjoy putting on a show for people

“You can’t tell anyone else what I am about to tell you, not even Freak or Jeff,” Eddie says seriously. 

“Oh my god, did a deal go wrong with Steve Harrington?” Gareth gasps. “He’s not going to snitch on you, is he? Oh my god Eddie you can’t afford to go to jail.” Gareth hisses out as he stays in a hunched stance, already coming up with the scenarios that Eddie could have possibly gotten himself into.

“I did not partake in any sort of drug deal with Steve Harrington. There was a deal but it didn’t involve drugs, it involved books.” 

“Books?” 

“Yeah, you know? The thing with pages and you're supposed to read?” Eddie says partly sarcastic before he moves to the bag to unzip it. Not bothering to pick it up off the floor, he just peels the bag back a little to show Gareth the book Steve had requested him to read and the pages of notes he took to share with Steve. 

“He’s going to pay me a hundred dollars to read this, which I already did and is the reason why I missed practice last night,” Eddie explains. 

“Why?” 

“Gareth have you not seen that boy's skull, It's two dents away from being a crushed can.” Eddie exaggerates. 

“No, I mean why help him read a book? He’s an asshole jock?” Gareth's eyebrows are pinched together, there is no malice behind his words just curiosity. 

“Well young Gare, sometimes you will have to help a jock in need. In this case, dire need, and hope it can benefit you in the future. And I’m getting a hundred dollars, I would be a moron to say no.” Eddie comments before pausing as he answers more seriously.

 “And I don’t know, he looked pretty pathetic in the library. And you noticed how he was walking. He nearly fell on his face just from getting out of the car. What would make me and any other jock different if I didn’t help him learn more about his injuries? If I can possibly prevent him from accidentally killing himself by giving him the information he needs then I’m willing to do that.” Eddie rambles out. 

Gareth listens intently, before pointing out the obvious., “Why doesn’t he just go to the doctor?” 

Eddie shrugs, “No clue.” He admits before an Idea pops into his mind. 

“Hey, is your mom still a nurse?” 

“Is your mom still a whore?” Gareth shoots back.

Eddie squints at the other boy before commenting, “You know you could have just said yes like a normal person.”

“Eddie, when has this friendship ever been normal?”

***

Throughout the day it seemed like some invisible figure was shoving Steve and Eddie closer than normal. Eddie was slowly becoming convinced that they had their own personal invisible man afoot.

When Eddie happened to be going down one hall Steve happened to be coming up the same hall. When Eddie was leaving a class Steve was awkwardly entering it. (Eddie had completely forgotten that Steve was in his third-period class, maybe if Eddie showed up to school more often he would remember small details like this.)

For one, Eddie was glad he was seeing the other everywhere but on the other hand, he was nervous the other was going to figure him out. After all, it was in their contractual agreement that Eddie didn’t tell anyone what he was doing for Steve. And what did Eddie do? He blabbed his mouth to fucking Gareth. Who wouldn’t tell anyone, but it still nerved Eddie that he broken an agreement.

When it was finally his lunch period he was more excited about getting to his table than what he normally was. He purposely swings his metal lunch pal back and forth with a relaxed and cheerful smile as he skips his way to the designated nerd table. 

He had a great campaign planned out for tonight and was excited to share it. He pulled up a chair, even though there was enough room to sit on one of the benches. If he could he would drag the homemade throne from the musical room and sit on that instead. But he’s already gotten in trouble for that.

As he waits for the other boys to join him he pulls out his lunch, carefully pushing his stash of weed to the side in there. Most of the kids in the area smelt like weed anyway so he wasn’t too worried about being sniffed out. Though he had always been worried about being jumped by the basketball team at one point. But other than that, Hawkins High was one of the safer sides of town he could get away with just carrying his stash around. Surprisingly. It also wasn’t like the teachers knew what they were sniffing out for. And if they did know they didn’t care as most times they were buying off from Eddie anyway.

“Hey, Eds.” Jeff greets as he sits down in his normal spot, leaving the seat right next to Eddie free for Gareth. If anyone loved routine it was Gareth. 

“Hey Jeff,” Eddie hums back with a mouth full of pbj. With each bite, he could taste small little flakes of weed that he didn’t bother cleaning out from the sandwich bag before placing his food in it.

He has the great thought of possibly turning a PBJ sandwich into an edible when he catches sight of Steve coming into the cafeteria. Steve was shakily holding a lunch tray as he walked away from his normal seat with Tommy Hagen. Which was a strange behavior as the two had been two peas in a pod for as long as Eddie could remember. 

What was also out of the ordinary for the Harrington boy was how he avoided eye contact with everyone in the room. From across the lunchroom, Eddie could see that the boy's color was still very off, the bruises on his face had only gotten worse with time instead of better and he was still stumbling over his feet a little.

Eddie doesn't stop staring, figuring that enough people are watching Steve that Harrington wouldn’t make eye contact with him. He keeps watching as Steve’s head lifts and he begins to glance around the room, looking for a place to sit. Eddie doesn’t get a chance to look away, caught off guard when Steve’s eyes meet his. They make intense eye contact for a couple of minutes, and Eddie nearly drops his sandwich in the process.

Steve looks away before Eddie can and sits down at an empty table as if he’s never seen Eddie in his life. Or currently had a deal with him. The entire interaction was weird. 

Eddie relaxes a bit before Gareth and Freak finally join them. 

“Hey boys,” Eddie grins. “You ready for tonight?” He can't sit still as he's reminded of the exciting campaign he has in store. He doesn’t stay seated in his chair for long as he climbs into the chair and crouches awkwardly. He keeps eating his sandwich as if he wasn’t acting like a fucking Goblin, and listens to the boys ramble excitedly.

It doesn’t take long before he hears a tray being dropped across the lunchroom. The banging noise echoed over everyone’s voices. He tilts his head curiously to see who the victim is. He almost lets out a groan when he realizes it's Steve Harrington. 

From where Eddie sat he could see Steve bending over and picking up the tray. A decent amount of eyes were back on him again as he waddled to put the tray at the tray station. From the corner of Eddie’s eye, he could see Gareth's head turning to look at him. Eddie knew what the other was going to tell him to do, there was no point in looking at the other but he still does. 

Gareth's face was pulled up in concern as he glanced between Jeff and Freak to make sure they weren’t looking before mouthing out a “Go help him.”

Eddie squints at him, mentally sending Gareth the reasons why he shouldn’t go help him. One is the fact that if he left after Steve that would give the other two boys a bad impression of what Eddie is doing. Like Gareth, they would most likely assume that this was another drug dealing situation and freak out at him. And when they found out that wasn’t the case they would next assume that Eddie was in some weird homoerotic relationship with Steve Harrington and he is pretty sure that would be pushing the line of their acceptance to his queerness. 

Even though he had remotely no interest in the guy.

Eddie rolls his eyes when Gareth just glares at him more. He tries to think fast about what excuse he could use to get away from the table. He glances at Gareth's drink and thinks it's the perfect escape. He purposely reaches over while the two guys aren’t looking and pushes the open bottle of water to spill all over the table and into Eddie's lap. 

Eddie jumps up with a groan, putting on a show. “Gareth, you clumsy bastard,” he says dramatically as he tries to wipe the water from his shirt and his crotch area. Jeff and Freak look between him and Gareth, completely clueless as to what is happening. Dare Eddie say, unexpecting even? 

Eddie was mentally hyping himself up after that stunt, believing that if this was a dexterity check he just rolled a goddamn d20 like a total natural. In his mental gloating, he nearly forgets that there was a purpose behind dumping Gareth's water all over himself. 

“Uh, I’ll be right back. Imma go to the bathroom—” 

Fuck. Eddie may have mastered dexterity but he sure didn’t master common sense. He simply could have just said he had to go to the bathroom. Instead, he made a mess of things and now had wet pants for no reason. From how Gareth looks at him now, it’s fair to assume he was calling Eddie some creative name choices. And a dexterity god was not one of them.

Eddie chuckles, smiling awkwardly before speeding out the lunchroom doors and away from that ungraceful situation. He prays to the metal gods that neither Freak nor Jeff brought up what just happened during DnD tonight.

He glances up and down the halls quickly, hoping to catch sight of Steve. It doesn’t take long to find him as Steve appears around the corner to head towards Eddie. Good, great–this was very convenient. Eddie could tell him what the book said, get paid, and be on his merry way. 

He eagerly moves down the hall, “Hey Harrington,” He says a bit louder so that Steve can catch what he is saying. There is no response from Steve, who hasn’t looked up from the floor since turning the corner. As Eddie moves closer he notices how the boy is holding his ears, as if he were trying to squish them into his skull.  

Eddie pauses for a second and mentally revisits some of the symptoms of head injuries. Some hearing loss was one of them, along with random sporadic ringing noises. He wondered if that was the issue Steve was having now. Eddie keeps walking towards the boy carefully, not wanting to spook the other. When he was in reaching distance he carefully poked the other's shoulder to grab his attention. But even being that careful Steve still jumps and flinches away from him.

Steve looks up, appearing very disoriented. His color is off, and he looks seconds away from throwing up all over Eddie’s new sneakers. “Hey, you okay?” He asks concerned.

“What?” Steve asks loudly. “Sorry can’t hear you over the loud ringing,” his face pinches up, looking even more distressed. 

Eddie was starting to feel uncomfortable, his anxiety was rising in his chest and he didn’t know what he was supposed to do to help the other now while he couldn’t hear him. He glances frantically around the hallway as if anything could help Steve, before deciding the best thing to do was to stay calm.

He turns his attention back on the other as he moves his hand in a ‘follow me’ gesture, and leads the other to his van. It probably looked suspicious, but he was sure that being outside would help the other a lot more than being cramped inside. 

Steve looks even more confused as Eddie gestures for him to get in the back of the van. ‘Don’t worry, I’m not going to kill you.” Eddie snorts as he hops into the van first. Hoping that would ease some of the other's anxiety. 

Eddie sits on the ground, watching the other curiously. Steve looks around for a moment, and at this point Eddie’s confident that the confused goldfish was his new signature look.

Steve awkwardly climbs in and Eddie moves forward just in case. Watching the other stumble in clumsily before Eddie closes the door behind him. Steve shifts his body around as if he didn’t know what to do with it and Eddie is quick to take the lead again. Waving his hand for the other to sit down once more.

Steve looks around the van, taking in the setting while Eddie waits for the other to be able to hear again. Hopefully, it would be soon, but he was willing to wait if necessary. 

When Steve finally turns his head back to Eddie he opens his mouth, wincing a little before he points to his ears. “Sorry, my ears tend to ring louder when I'm in loud places,” he comments as he rubs at them again. 

Eddie nods his head and takes note of that before it quickly grows awkward. “So, why did you bring me into your van?” Steve asks confused. A light chuckle falls from his lips when Eddie starts to move around to grab the bag. Remembering what they were in here for. 

“I finished the book,” He says simply. “And I did take some notes, figured I could tell you the summary if that's cool with you?” He says as he grabs the stack of notes he wrote. 

Steve has an unreadable look on his face as he nods his head carefully. Eddie takes that as his queue and takes a shaky breath as he begins to read off all of the information. Even pulling out the book to read the highlighted section. By the time he’s finished reading it all Steve’s face was pale again. His eyes looked watery and Eddie couldn’t tell if he was going to be sick in his van. 

Steve's hands shake in his lap a little like he was somewhere else. Eddie pinches his eyebrows before hesitating over his words. “I think it would be a good idea if you went to see a Doctor Steve,” he comments. “I know a guy, his mother is a nurse and I can easily take you over and get you checked out and-” Eddie rambles but Steve shakes his head no with a slight sniffle that they both choose to ignore. 

“Nah, I’ll be fine. Handled worse than this.” He laughs bitterly. Eddie furrows his eyebrows, concern taking over him again as he opens his mouth again but shuts it again when he realizes there is no point in trying to persuade Steve Harrington. He had already made up his mind.

“Alright, I see I can’t change your mind.” Eddie chuckles, unsure what he's supposed to do in this situation. But he can’t help himself as he comments, “But please, for the love of god don’t play any sports this season man. I don’t want to hear about how Steve Harrington died on the court.” He was fidgeting with his rings as he said this, shifting his eyes anywhere but on Steve. 

“I’ll be fine, no plans on dying either.” Steve laughs gently. His whole demeanor had changed, from being the most vulnerable Eddie had ever seen him to being the most closed-off a person could be. 

Those were the last words Steve said to him before he hopped out of the van and left to go back into the school. And in his place, where he had been sitting were two one hundred dollar bills.

[samgelina-jolie]

eddie book news

[ghosttotheparty]

love me softly p22

part 21

Eddie wakes up to Steve tracing lines across the side of his neck.

He smiles into the pillow, reaching out blindly to find him, and when he grabs at his waist he pulls him closer, mumbling, “C’mere.”

Steve rolls on top of him and their legs tangle as Eddie wraps his arms around Steve’s bare waist. His skin is almost hot, warm from sleep and blankets. Steve’s chin rests on Eddie’s chest.

Eddie can feel him gazing at him, and he suppresses a smile.

“Bed head,” Steve says fondly. His voice is rough. Eddie hums.

Steve traces the spider on Eddie’s chest slowly, the body, then the legs, and then he kisses it. Eddie sighs, sliding a hand under the waistband of his boxers to squeeze his hip.

“I was thinking,” Steve says quietly.

“Mm. Sounds dangerous.”

Steve pinches Eddie’s nipple, and Eddie giggles, grabbing his hand to push it away.

“What are you thinking?” he asks, holding Steve’s hand to himself after a moment. Steve is quiet, his chin back on Eddie’s chest, just over his heart.

“…I don’t care if people know.”

Eddie slowly opens his eyes, blinking at the ceiling for a moment before his eyes find Steve. Steve is gazing at him, his chin squished so his lips are pouting.

“Explain?” Eddie says softly.

“I mean…” Steve exhales, looking back at the spider and tracing it again as Eddie pushes his hair back, running his fingers over the side of his head. “I don’t think we should, like, make out in the hallways and stuff, but I…” His lips shift thoughtfully, still pouting. “I like wearing your clothes. And I like, like, leaning against you and laying on your shoulder. And holding your hand. And I miss it at school.”

Eddie listens intently, running his fingers through Steve’s hair, thinking.

“…You know people will talk,” he says quietly. Steve shrugs weakly.

“People will always talk,” he says. “People already talk.”

“They’ll call you things.”

Another shrug.

“Whatever they call me…” Steve frowns a little bit, his eyes trained on Eddie’s. “I’ll make it mine. Like you.”

“Jesus,” Eddie sighs, blinking and letting his head fall to look up at the ceiling. He scratches his fingertips across Steve’s scalp.

“We don’t have to,” Steve says, misunderstanding. “We can— We can keep our distance, I don’t mind, I just…”

“No, baby, it’s just—”

He sighs again, looking down at him.

“They’re gonna give you so much shit, Stevie, shit that you don’t— you don’t deserve.”

“You don’t deserve it either,” Steve says. “Or Gareth, or your friends, or— or anyone that people are assholes to for no reason.”

“I know, but…” He touches Steve, tracing the moles on his cheek. “They’re probably gonna call you stuff. And harass you, and call you—”

“I know, Eddie,” Steve murmurs. “I’ve thought about it. I think about it every time I see you in the hallways because I wanna… push you against the lockers and kiss you until you can’t remember your own name.”

Eddie can’t suppress a grin, and Steve smiles up at him.

“I won’t do that, though,” Steve says.

“You can do it when we get home.”

Steve nods against his chest.

“So what do you think?” he says after a moment. Eddie gazes at him for a moment, tucking his hair back.

“Just… I want you to know what you’re getting into.”

“I do.”

“It might be dangerous, Stevie.”

“I know,” Steve murmurs. “I’ve thought about it.”

Eddie gazes, tracing a line across his forehead.

“We don’t have to be super obvious,” Steve says softly. “I just wanna be able to touch you. Just… Your hand. Or, like, leaning against you. I feel like I’m dying every time I see you and I have to just look at you like we’re buddies.”

Eddie smiles softly, touching his face. There’s a line on his cheek from the pillow.

“We can let them all wonder,” Steve says quietly. “And then… we’ll run away together. Get married ’nd shit.”

Eddie’s eyes burn. He blinks them, looking up at the ceiling and listening to Steve giggle softly, biting his lip to suppress a smile.

“Jesus, I love you.”

“‘S nice,” Steve whispers, tilting his head to press a kiss to Eddie’s chest. He reaches up to wipe a tear for Eddie, leaving his hand up to twist in Eddie’s tangled curls. Eddie takes a deep breath, blinking tears back, focusing on the weight on Steve on top of him, the pressure of his head on his chest, the feeling of their skin touching.

He hesitates after a few moments, furrowing his brows.

“What if… What if your parents hear about us? Somehow?”

Steve’s eyes skim over Eddie’s face, his fingertips untangling a snag in Eddie’s hair.

“I don’t know. I don’t… I don’t really care.”

“Stevie.”

“I don’t, Eddie. They barely know me anyway. I already wanna leave home as soon as I can. Kinda wanna, like, cut them off eventually.” He looks soft, like he might cry, but his voice is strong. “I don’t care if they know.”

“If they…” Eddie pauses to collect himself, realising his hands are shaking. He holds Steve’s head, touching the buzzed hair. “If they do anything. If they find out, or— or you think they know or that they’ll find out, and you— you feel unsafe at all, you come to mine and Wayne’s.”

“I know,” Steve says with a small smile.

“Or Tommy’s if his dad isn’t home, or— or Gareth’s.”

“I know, Eddie.”

Eddie exhales, staring for a moment before he sits up, pushing Steve to sit across from him, their legs around each other. Steve glances down at himself, at his stomach, insecure, so Eddie moves closer and slides his hand across his belly, over the soft rolls, and he leans close to kiss him. It’s a soft, slow kiss, and Steve’s hands find Eddie’s shoulders, pulling his hair back to touch his neck as Eddie’s fingers press into his flesh.

“Are you sure?” Eddie asks when they part.

“Yes.”

Eddie exhales, nudging their noses together.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay,” Eddie says again, nodding, smiling. Steve leans closer, wrapping his arms around Eddie’s neck and pulling him in tightly as Eddie slides his hands over his back firmly, down his spine to the waist and of his boxers and back to the nape of his neck.

They stay there for a while, just holding each other, face in each other’s necks, rocking back and forth a little bit without even really noticing, until Steve whispers, “Will you take a shower with me?”

“Is that a serious question?”

Steve giggles.

When Gareth and Tommy arrive, Steve’s hair is carefully styled with products that keep it silky smooth. Eddie’s hair smells like the same products, and he still feels weak in the knees from letting Steve run his fingers through his wet curls, scrunching them and twisting them around his fingers to form perfect ringlets.

Gareth and Tommy promptly ruin Steve’s hair by manhandling his head to see the shaved sides, simultaneously rubbing the sides of his head roughly and making him giggle.

They brought pizza.

Eddie brought weed.

Steve comments that maybe weed isn’t a great idea as he pulls Poltergeist out and holds it up for Eddie to see, but it doesn’t stop them. They all sit on the floor together, Steve leaning against Eddie’s chest between his legs, the others leaning against the sofa. Tommy and Gareth share a joint between them. Eddie and Steve share one, but Steve stays bundled under a blanket when he finishes his pizza, and Eddie just holds the joint down to his lips for him.

Tommy gets up to put another movie on when the first one ends because Steve refuses to get up. Steve falls asleep halfway through it.

Gareth lets his head fall to Eddie’s shoulder as they watch, smiling as he watches Eddie comb through Steve’s hair and rest his cheek on the top of his head. Tommy moves to lay his head on Gareth’s lap. (Gareth covers his eyes with a hand and has to stifle a laugh as Tommy reaches up to smack at his face, calling him an asshole.) Tommy falls asleep next, taking steady breaths, his shoulder rising and falling.

“I’m really happy,” Eddie murmurs to Gareth after a while, sounding sleepy. His eyes are trained on the television, his fingers tracing Steve’s knuckles as Steve holds onto his forearm that’s gentle across his chest.

Gareth sighs, nuzzling against his shoulder before he lifts his head and smacks a soft kiss to his temple, making him squeeze his eyes shut with a bright smile.

“I’m glad you are,” Gareth says as he’s laying his head back down. “I am too.”

—————————

The summer between Steve’s junior and senior years, he and Eddie go to Indianapolis to get away from Hawkins for a few days. They drag Tommy and Gareth along.

As they’re walking down a sidewalk, laughing and jabbing at each other, Steve lingers at the window of a piercing and tattoo shop, and Eddie stops, watching the way he gazes inside, eyeing the posters and photos.

They go inside.

They spend too long chatting with the people that work there, browsing the flash sheets on the walls and the displayed jewellery, until they all make their decisions.

Tommy doesn’t get anything, just because it’s not his style. (Though Gareth won’t stop teasing that he’s just scared, mouthing pussy at him across the shop.)

Gareth gets a septum piercing after much contemplation. He squeezes his eyes shut tightly as the piercer holds the needle up, and then after it’s done, he promptly says, “That actually wasn’t that bad,” even though his eyes are watering.

“You’re crying,” Tommy says, leaning against a nearby shelf and watching intently, curiously.

“It’s a natural reaction, Tommy,” Gareth says sassily as the piercer chuckles, putting the jewellery in in place of the needle. “You ever get punched in the nose?”

“No.”

“How’d you like to be?”

Tommy just cackles.

Eddie gets his right ear lobe pierced. It’s just a black stud for now, but he keeps eyeing the piercer’s gauges, the small black tunnels through his ear lobes.

Steve gets his left eyebrow pierced. Eddie already has the polaroid camera out of his bag, waiting, and as the piercer moves away to pick up the jewellery, Steve turns to look at him. His left eye is squeezed shut because the piercing is bleeding, bright red on his golden skin, the needle straight through his brow. Eddie lifts the camera without hesitation, and Steve lifts a hand in a lazy rock-on gesture.

(Eddie keeps the photo in his wallet, occasionally just opening it to gaze at him, at the smile just teasing at his lips, at his soft arms that are exposed because he’s wearing one of Eddie’s old Megadeath shirts, the sleeves cut off to battle the summer heat. The man of Eddie’s dreams.)

Eddie wipes the blood away for him after the jewellery is in place, and Steve tugs him into a chaste kiss.

Steve insists on paying for all three piercings, with the explanation of, “If my parents found out I’m using their hard-earned money for body modifications they’d lose their shit, so…” and a wink. Eddie just says, “I’m in love with you,” and the cashier laughs softly as Tommy and Gareth groan obnoxiously.

Eddie and Steve go back to the same shop before summer is over. Steve gets his septum pierced because he really liked Gareth’s, and Eddie holds his hand as he gets it done, laughing when Steve’s hand clenches and Steve lets out a gasp.

“Gareth is a fucking liar,” Steve says firmly as the piercer changes the needle for the nose ring. “Holy shit.”

Steve holds his hand as Eddie kicks his feet in anticipation as the piercer cleans the bridge of his nose, just between his eyes.

“This may be a horrible idea,” Eddie says, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath.

“Why’s that?” Steve asks, running his thumb over his knuckles.

“I really hate needles.”

Steve and piercer laugh, and piercer, a young woman with a buzzcut, tells him he can change his mind.

“Gareth would never let me live it down,” he says. “Let’s do this, stick me.”

“Alright,” she says, squeezing the bridge of his nose with the clamp and lining the needle up. His hand squeezes Steve’s so tightly it hurts. “On three. One—”

“Fuck you,” Eddie complains when she pierces him before three. She just laughs.

Steve pays again. He tells Eddie he wants to get his tongue done next, and Eddie sighs heavily like he’s annoyed before he tugs him into an alleyway and kisses him silly.

Come August, nobody in town really recognizes Steve. He gets the same stares Eddie gets as he walks down the street, the same squinted eyes and furrowed eyebrows and judging, wrinkled noses. He gets the same glares from parents as they turn their children around. Don’t stare, they say, even as they stare over their shoulders. And Steve realises everything about Eddie and his behaviour makes sense, because when an old man stares him down for more than a full minute, all Steve can think to do is stick his tongue out and hiss at him. The man looks away haughtily, huffing and turning red, and Steve just giggles to himself.

On the first day of school, he wears one of Eddie’s shirts that he’s stolen. A black t-shirt Eddie made Steve paint with bleach, leaving the soft, worn fabric stained red in a careful spider web across the chest. He’s wearing one of Eddie’s rings, and he fidgets with it during classes, rubs his fingers over it until the metal is warm as he tries to pay attention.

The teacher takes attendance silently, looking up around the room and checking off names, until she stops and asks, “Is Steve Harrington here?”

He raises his hand and says, “Here,” and then has to lower his head to hide his smile. Because the students around him look toward him at the sound of his voice, wide-eyed and already spinning rumours and theories around in their minds, rumours and theories that make their way to open air by the next day.

Steve Harrington’s been corrupted. He’s been dethroned, manipulated, possessed. It was Eddie Munson’s fault. Look at them. Listen to them. He called him Stevie. He’s holding his hand. What the fuck are they doing? What happened to Steve? What happened to the king? Where did he go?

Did you hear?

King Steve and the Freak.

Steve ignores them all as he leans against Eddie in the cafeteria, laughing at something Gareth says. He ignores them all as Eddie laughs into his hair, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and tugging him closer, as Eddie’s fingers run across the side of his head, over his buzzed hair. He ignores them all as he throws a fry at Tommy, who catches it in his mouth and high-fives Gareth.

Because after school he gets to go home to Eddie’s trailer and kiss Eddie’s lips and cheeks and neck, and he gets to fall asleep to the sound of Eddie’s heartbeat. Nobody else gets that. Nobody else gets to see that. (Except Gareth and Tommy and Wayne on the occasions that Steve gets sleepy around them and leans against Eddie instinctively.)

They never confirm the rumours, even when Steve’s old friends corner him in the hallway with accusations of Satanism and rituals and Eddie brainwashing him. We’re worried about you, man. What did he do to you? Steve just glares at them, almost sneering at the faux concern in their eyes, at their gentleness after he saw them trip a little freshman in the hallway this morning.

You guys are fucking idiots.

He pushes past them without a second glance, ignoring their increasingly angry Steve!s that turn into Harrington!s that make his blood run cold. He just goes to meet Eddie at his van and says, “Wanna go home.”

When one of Steve’s old friends tells him, “Man, I don’t even recognise you anymore,” Steve has to fight a smile off, and he takes a breath before he says lightly, “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s all you have to say?”

Steve raises an eyebrow.

“What, am I in trouble?”

Drew scoffs.

“Dude, what’s going on with you?” he asks, gesturing vaguely at Steve, who seeths. “You’re so…”

“What?” Steve says coldly. “Weird?”

“Yeah. What’s going on with you?” Drew says, shrugging a little bit, and Steve’s jaw twitches as he takes a breath.

“Nothing,” he says evenly. “There is nothing going on with me. You just hate that I’m not exactly like you anymore.”

Drew scoffs.

“So, what, you’re like them?”

“Yes,” Steve says, his hands shaking. “I’m like them. And I’d rather be like them, or anyone fucking else, than like you.”

“You’re fucking pathetic, Steve.”

Steve nods, unblinking.

“I mean, you…” Drew shakes his head in disappointment. “You were the king, man. And then you started hanging out with Eddie fucking Munson.”

The sound of his name in Drew’s mouth makes Steve feel sick with anger.

“And everyone’s trying to figure out what that fag did to you, but—”

Steve has him pinned to the wall before he can even process it, his fist tight on the front of Drew’s shirt, his heart pounding his chest. Drew is wide-eyed, startled, breathing hard as Steve speaks in a quiet, even voice.

“You keep your fucking mouth shut about him,” he says softly. “‘Kay?”

Drew stares back at him, and he nods when Steve raises his eyebrows.

Steve shoves him against the wall harder before he releases him and leaves. Eddie is in the parking lot, leaning against his van, waiting for Steve when he comes out of the school, and even though there are still others standing around the parking lot, talking and laughing with their friends, Steve steps up close and wraps his arms around him tightly.

Eddie hugs him back even though he’s confused, tucking his face into Steve’s neck.

“What’s going on?”

Steve can feel the others eyeing them, but he doesn’t care. No one can hear them murmuring to each other.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, honey.”

Steve pulls away after a few moments, standing in front of Eddie and hesitating.

“What happened?” Eddie asks softly, dropping his hands and pushing them into his pockets. Steve bites his lip, gazing at him.

“I’ll tell you later,” he says quietly.

Eddie nods.

Steve hesitates for a second before he leans in, tilting his head, and he kisses Eddie’s cheek lightly, chastely.

Eddie’s face flushes pink, and he suppresses a smile, hearing a soft voice behind them say Did he just…

“You really don’t give a shit, do you?” Eddie asks, amused, and Steve shakes his head.

“I am so tired of caring. ‘M done.”

Eddie tilts his head at him like he’s adorable, and then he reaches out and pulls at Steve’s hand.

“‘S go home.”

Steve keeps his hand on Eddie’s thigh as they drive home, and at red lights, Eddie reaches over to run his fingers over the side of his head, dragging his fingertips over his buzzed hair in the way that always makes him close his eyes and sigh.

Rumours about the kiss spread around the school by the next morning.

Did you hear that Harrington kissed Munson?

What?

Yeah, they made out in the parking lot.

They didn’t make out, Steve kissed his cheek.

I didn’t know he was queer. I mean, I knew Munson was, but Steve Harrington…

Steve ignores the stares he gets in the hallway, the way they’ve intensified. Some are malicious, but there’s a heavy ring on Steve’s index finger that could cause some damage if he had to throw a punch. When he’s asked about it (Are you queer? Are you with Munson?) he just stares at the questioner blankly until they leave. Eddie finds it hilarious every time.

Steve stays at Eddie’s more often than not. Wayne gets used to finding him in the kitchen in the morning, and the first time he ruffles his hair the way he does Eddie’s, Steve almost cries. (He and Steve take their coffee the same way, and they both tease Eddie for how much sugar he takes.)

The first time Steve hugs Wayne, it’s when he comes over to find one of his own paintings hanging on the wall above the sofa. He’d given the painting to Eddie last time he was over.

It’s a colourful, messy painting, the paint smooth and smudgy and almost smokey. He did it on his bedroom floor, kneeling on top of a blue tarp his father used to use to cover his car, his left hand clutching a bundle of paintbrushes, humming along to a mixtape Eddie made for him.

Steve had expected the painting to be in Eddie’s room, maybe resting against his mirror or propped against his windowsill, but it’s the first thing he sees when he walks into the trailer. There’s a hammer and nails still on the table.

“Oh,” he says.

“Is it straight?” Wayne asks, stepping out of the kitchen and setting a mug down on the table, looking at the painting. “I tried to get it straight but I can’t tell if I did it right. Eds is better with handy stuff like that.”

Eddie is at Hellfire. Steve came over anyway just because.

“It looks good,” he says weakly. His voice cracks. Wayne looks at him.

“You alright?” he asks gently. He’s always gentle. Steve sometimes wonders if Eddie’s told him about him, about his parents, the drinking. But part of him also thinks it’s just how Wayne is. Always gentle, kind, slow and patient. He’s always making tea.

“I’ve, uhm.” Steve clears his throat, sniffling. “All my paintings are on the floor in my closet,” he says, because he doesn’t know how else to explain everything he’s feeling.

Wayne just looks at him.

“Well that’s not where they belong, is it?” he says lightly after a moment, looking back at the painting. “You wanna bring any more, I can get Eds to put them up straight on the walls. Bring some colour in here.” He doesn’t see Steve squeeze his eyes shut. “He’ll probably make some joke about putting them up straight, though.”

Steve laughs wetly, nodding. He definitely would.

“You alright?” Wayne asks again as Steve is wiping his face. Steve nods.

And then he can’t stop himself from stepping over and hugging Wayne tightly, squeezing his eyes shut as Wayne hugs him back carefully. He takes a gasping breath, still trying not to cry, but Wayne rubs his back and murmurs a soft, “You’re alright, son.”

And then he’s sobbing. Son. He’s never been called that before. Wayne sways with him in his arms, rubbing his back, whispering to him, waiting until he pulls himself together.

“Sorry,” Steve says weakly as he starts to pull away, but Wayne tsks at him, shaking his head and wiping his tears away with his warm, rough, callused hands.

“You don’t gotta apologise, Steve,” Wayne says gently. “‘S alright to cry.”

When Eddie comes home, Wayne and Steve are both on the sofa watching a baseball game. Steve is wearing Eddie’s clothes, some black sweatpants and a heavy sweater that used to be Wayne’s, and Eddie pauses in the doorway just to look at them.

Steve drifts off as he’s listening to Eddie’s heartbeat. His eyes are closed, the baseball game turning into quiet white noise behind him, and as he’s starting to drift he hears Eddie say quietly, “We’re gonna run away together someday.”

“Are you?” Wayne says. Steve can hear his smile in his voice. Eddie’s fingers run across his shaved hair.

“Mhmm.”

“Where to?”

“Steve says maybe San Francisco,” Eddie says, smiling. His voice is rumbling in his chest. “We’ll see.”

“Send me a postcard, will you?”

“‘Course. We’ll send you some of Stevie’s art.”

“That’a be nice,” Wayne says. “Was talking to Steve about his painting. Said he can bring us more if he wants. Get some colour in here.”

“All your damn mugs aren’t enough colour for you?” Eddie teases.

“Steve likes the mugs.”

“‘S true.”

Eddie is still playing with Steve’s hair, his fingertips so gentle it’s like a lullaby. That with his heartbeat against Steve’s cheek.

“I really love him, Uncle Wayne.”

“I can tell, Eds.” Wayne is quiet for a moment. “I love him, too.”

Eddie shifts, falling to the side a little bit, and Steve falls with him, nuzzling into his chest as he settles, his hands tucked under his chin, legs drawn up across Eddie’s lap. He knows without looking that Eddie is leaning against Wayne.

Steve sighs. Eddie kisses the top of his head, and when he speaks again, Steve is too tired to understand him. He doesn’t try to, instead listening to the rumble of his voice, of Wayne’s voice when he responds. If he was awake enough, he would say it back. If he was awake enough, he would probably cry again. But Eddie’s fingertips are dragging through his hair, and his voice is smooth and low, and his heartbeat is steady, right against Steve’s face.

Steve falls asleep.

epilogue read the whole thing on ao3 tagging: @thehumblefigtree @cr0w-culture @goodolefashionedloverboi @newtstabber @bestwifehaver <3 comment to be tagged in the epilogue :)

[munsonfamilyband]

So I’ve been diagnosed with ADHD since I was a toddler but my dad grew up in the 70s and 80s and didn’t get diagnosed until he was almost 50, let alone taking medication for it. Can you imagine the pure relief Eddie would feel the first time he took ADHD medication? For people who don’t have it/have never experienced it, it truly is an insane feeling to suddenly have the ability to focus on things and finish thoughts coherently.

Imagine Eddie in his late 20s, maybe early 30s, it’s the 90s and Robin just got diagnosed and told him he should get tested. He gets tested, diagnosed and he starts trying out meds. He and Steve suffer through the process of finding the right medication and dosage but the moment it clicks? Eddie cleans the apartment and get’s caught up on all the paperwork he needed to do for weeks but kept pushing off. He found things he had misplaced months ago and set up a plan for the next day to keep being productive. Steve is at a loss for words and Eddie almost cries when he sees what he did, both because he finally has something that helps him do things, but also because he should have been able to get this as a kid. He starts advocating for testing your kids because he would have done so much better in school if he had someone or something to help his brain chemistry even out and function like a regular brain.

[pubbydreams]

steddie coded

[tinytalkingtina]

Logical imperfection - Chapter 3 (Steddie Star Trek AU)

Chapter 3 is now live! In which Eddie is leading his first away mission, and we get to hint at S'tevan's Tragic BackstoryTM.

Eddie continued to fuss with the machine for several minutes before his anxiety and anger finally boiled over. “Stupid hunk of junk!” He growled, kicking it in frustration. In response, the water purifier sputtered to life and kicked out a cloud of sand directly into Eddie’s face. Coughing, half blind, he flailed around wildly before losing his balance and falling flat on his ass. Truly the picture of a calm and collected senior officer. “I see your decade of experience in engineering has well prepared you for desert survival tactics.” S’tevan commented dryly, leaning against some rocks a distance away. Eddie glared at his pointy-eared rival. Some security officer he was, letting his crewmates injure their bodies (and egos). But after months of jabs about how planetary missions were the only real work in Starfleet, Eddie didn’t want to give S’tevan the satisfaction.

Read the full chapter on Ao3!

[hellcheerficdatabase]

His Dungeon Master Throne

Author: LittlePine

Rating/Warning: Explicit

Chapter Count: 1/1

Description:

Searching for Dustin's lost wallet in the Drama room AKA Hellfire club room, Steve accidentally stumbles upon an unlikely couple as things get steamy. He can't do a lot but watch.

Uh oh.

Tags: Alternate Universe- no vecna, accidental voyeurism, smut, Steve is conflicted, it's so hot, but tender, Steve having an awakening? Maybe so, outside POV, one-shot, status: completed

[sundaynightlive]

Fools (Steddie)

First Part | Last Part | Next Part

Steve’s losing his mind. Not losing it, actually—it’s actively being stolen from him every second he spends with Eddie Munson.

At first, he considered it just… fooling around. Or a school girl’s crush. It had been easier, then, to talk himself out of saying stupid things, doing stupid things—being altogether that mushy, maudlin guy he starts being when he actually likes somebody. 

It’s getting harder and harder by the day. Maybe even by the hour.

“Dude, that’s the third time you’ve tried to hand me back a tape without tagging it,” Robin says, incredulously, “Where’s your head at?”

Where’s his head at? 

Swimming pools, living rooms, a little house on the hill, and children’s names. That’s where his head’s at—creating asinine fantasies of the life he and Eddie might live someday in a world which does not even exist for them. He doesn’t usually fall so quickly—he and Eddie aren’t even really together. Hell, they’ve barely been fooling around two-weeks and he’s obsessing over a life with the guy.

Maybe Eddie doesn’t even want that, but they haven’t talked. They don’t talk. Suddenly, something they used to do so easily has been replaced by constant, mind-numbing affection. Steve isn’t complaining, but he aches to just talk about it.

Talk about the fact they spend every moment of free time together.

Talk about the fact it feels like fucking magic.

Talk about the fact Steve’s never liked someone this much, ever.

Talk about what the hell is going on.

But no, Steve is stuck in “will they won’t they” limbo, wishing the guy who used to never shut up would just fucking say something. 

“Steve?”

He snaps his attention back to Robin. He bites his lip, opens his mouth to say it, and closes it again. She stares at him expectantly, arms crossed over her chest.

“Can… you keep a secret?”

[strangersatellites]

so I had this idea about Eddie being one of those people who sells spells on Etsy. he’s not a con artist and he doesn’t overprice his spells and he doesn’t offer anything he can’t deliver, it’s mostly cleansing spells, spells for confidence, etc. he sends his clients a kit with simple instructions if they live faraway or for more complicated spells he will meet people in person. he offers anti-love spells too, but they have to be done in person.

Enter Steve, who has recently gone through a rough breakup with Nancy, and who in his desperation finds Eddie’s Etsy shop and contacts him for an anti-love spell to make himself fall out of love with her.

your post about witch Eddie made me think of this 🤭

oh OH!!! this is doing WONDERS for my witch eddie brainrot brandi this is serious

steve contracts eddie for a spell but he’s not confident in his ability to perform it himself even with the kit. luckily, he notices eddie is based out of the same town as him so he asks if they can meet. eddie agrees, of course, and they meet up somewhere in town.

unfortunately for eddie, he gets a bit distracted by the pretty boy with pretty eyes and pretty hair and a pretty pretty smile. he doesn’t notice until it’s too late that he messed up the spell. nothing seems immediately wrong though so he thinks he’s gotten off scott-free.

afterwards, he and steve hit it off and make plans to hang out soon. numbers are exchanged and they quickly become inseparable.

it’s only once eddie realizes he’s in love with him that he wakes up in a cold sweat and realizes his mistake.

in his distracted mindset casting steve’s anti-love spell, he accidentally cast the spell that didn’t dull steve’s affection for nancy, but shift it. to him.

[valiticsonline]

If you want to write smut then go for it. You don’t have to include a seven paragraph “plot” before it either. just saying

[districtsof-treason]

support group for adult women who choose to be celibate but are apeshit feral for fictional characters

my inner whore is sobbing