#Friendship Party

[seventeendeer]

ppl are too quick to point to laios' disability as the reason his friends think he's a freak sometimes. so many instances of laios getting yelled at are, in my eyes, a case of "this guy had to emotionally mature very early in order to be there for his little sister" combined with "much older friends who never had to learn to manage their own emotions to the same degree"

a lot of the time he's right about needing to be more direct/deal with things in a way that may seem scary/needing to put your gut reaction aside. he tries not to make his friends uncomfortable and he puts up with a lot because he's trying to keep the peace, but he also pushes the others out of their comfort zones purposefully to try to get them to think more constructively. everyone else in the party is prone to acting on their gut instincts and avoiding uncomfortable situations even when facing them head-on is very much necessary. part of what makes laios such a great leader is the fact that he knows from experience how to put his own feelings aside to help someone else grow.

yes, he does make a lot of social blunders by accident and he does struggle to connect with others, but not all of his positive influence on others is accidental or "despite" making people uncomfortable. a lot of the time, I think it's clear he knows exactly what he's doing and he's trying to help the people around him process emotions in a healthy way as they all go through some truly harrowing shit. all the main characters support each other as well as they can with their unique emotional skillsets. laios' skillset just happens to be "gently talk child into eating her vegetables"

[sp0o0kylights]

Grass is green, water is wet, and Jonathan Byers does not like Steve Harrington.

These are known facts in the universe.

Computers were going to take over the world, a “mobile” phone was being invented, and Steve Harrington had lost most of his hearing.

These were unknown facts--rumors even, if you will. Eddie had never seen even a grain of truth to support any of them. 

(Well, maybe the computer thing, but only because Grant and Dustin both had made a couple of convincing arguments.) 

So he doesn’t think about it, when his freshman gang up on him. 

Doesn’t even factor the “can’t hear well” thing in, when he was tasked (demanded, whined, bitched and moaned at) with helping them explain to Steve why going to the release party of the new D&D box set, located at a hobby store only a mere 2 hour drive away, was important.

Eddie’s not even sure how the little shits got him to agree to do it until he’s standing in the parking lot in front of the former King himself. 

“The store’s leading up to the release with a handful of one-shots.” He’s explaining, unsure whether to pull out the bored act or play up his court jester persona, and thus mixing and matching on the fly. 

He does not care if Harrington doesn’t know what a one-shot is. 

“They’re releasing the set at midnight. You have to be there to get it though, you can’t have someone else pick it up for you because they only got a certain amount in.” 

Harrington’s frowning (no surprise) but it’s not until Eddie is well into his spiel about how his van is already full with the elder members of Hellfire, and thus has no room for the freshmen, that he realizes Steve isn’t quite looking at him. 

Is in fact, looking over his shoulder.

Eddie stops. Follows Harrington’s gaze.

Parked across from Steve’s Beemer, is Jonathan Byer’s barely working clunker car. 

A handful of steps in front of it, and thus nearly right behind Eddie, is the man himself.

His hands are still moving, mouth shaping words silent as he goes, his gaze locked not on Eddie or the kids--but on Steve. 

Who turns back around as Harrington’s eyes slide right back to him. 

“And this is taking place next Friday?” He says, in that sort of annoyed but resigned way parents aim at their children. “After school?” 

“I’d like to go during  school, but the freshmen insist you wouldn’t let them ditch out.” Eddie tells him. “They had two separate arguments about it.” 

Loud ones, that had interrupted the game and given Eddie a migraine. 

Once again Steve’s eyes slide away from him, to Jonathan. 

“They’re not skipping school.” He says suddenly, a glare forming and Jonathan makes an annoyed noise. 

“They argued about skipping, they’re not going to.” He says aloud, and finally steps up so that he’s next to Eddie instead of behind him. 

“Munson slow down, I can’t sign as fast as you’re talking.” He adds, in the hang-dog grumble he’s notorious for. 

Eddie stares at him. 

“Can he seriously not hear me?” 

“No.” Steve and Jonathan answer together. 

“I can kind of still hear,” Steve adds, gaze returning to Eddie’s face. “But its more loud music or noises. I can lip read, but you’re also talking too fast for that.” 

Without pausing, he turns back to Jonathan and says; “Why can’t you take them?”

“It’s Friday.” Byers deadpans. 

Eddie’s not an expert on sign language, but his hands somehow looked deadpan too. 

He’s not sure how Jonathan did that. 

“So?” Steve snarks back. 

What follows is an argument that Eddie is not, at all involved in, mostly because he’s too busy handling the fact that Jonathan Byers has learned sign language, for Steve Harrington, apparently, and given the tone the argument is taking they still don’t even like each other.  

Eventually the argument ends, Steve throwing his hands in the air and demanding that Jonathan owes him. 

(Eventually Eddie will corner the ever so quiet Will Byers and ask why the hell his brother learned sign language for someone he clearly fucking hates.

“Oh they don’t hate each other.” Baby Byers would say, in that shy, quiet way of his. “I think they’re actually friends now?” 

“You think?”

“Well--you’ve seen them.” Will shrugs. “I think being mean to each other is kinda their thing.” 

‘What the hell.’ Eddie would think, right up until he stumbled across one of the kids sign language books. 

Byers the Elder, he decides, isn’t the only person who should learn sign language to chew out Harrington properly.

The pay off is immediate. 

Or at least, the pay off of watching Steve’s shocked face the first time Eddie signs something vulgar at him is, anyway.)

[xiewho]

no time to celebrate

[abyssal-ilk]

thinking about sten again. thinking about him calling the warden kadan and never explaining what it means. thinking about him offering to take the warden back with him to par vollen, but it's never actually an option the warden takes, even if you agree. thinking about how sten responds the best to a warden who stands their ground even if he doesn't agree with them. thinking about how he loves sweets and art, and how he plays with kittens. "it's training," he says. but come on. he's playing. thinking about what else he's had to justify to himself for liking.

and he calls alistair kadan! shale as well! do you think it was ever extended to the other party members? just,, agh

[lucabyte]

So does anybody else ever think about how Loop felt the need to demonstrate that the party's deaths wouldn't have any effect on the loops. I know I do but that's besides the point. Anyway I don't think Loop actually needs to bathe, they just like to feel included.

[captainzigo]

[blueandyellow7]

byler shippers who also love el wya????

[loveinhawkins]

Robin’s always had a soft spot for Eddie Munson, but up until recently it had been in a distant kind of way; she appreciated his class clown act, the way it had a domino effect of keeping the heat off the band kids, how he hogged the spotlight for any passing douchebag’s attention.

But then they both literally dive into The Upside Down, and her appreciation reaches a whole new level.

They’re in the Wheeler’s garage, thanking their lucky stars that four bikes exist in 1983 (and yeah, Robin’s sure that if she thinks about the whole time thing for half a second more her brain will promptly melt, so she doesn’t).

Each of them are pushing their chosen bike down the driveway, in a dazed sort of silence—the high of the Lite-Brite worn off in the face of another grim journey through The Upside Down.

Steve is flagging, Robin can hear it: his breathing’s growing laboured as he walks, an occasional unsteadiness to him that’s setting her anxiety off all over again, because what if they were wrong, what if it’s really rabies, and it’s too late, it’s coursing through his veins, and he’s—they’re gonna lose him—

“Hey, Harrington,” Eddie says, swinging a leg over his saddle, “wanna race?”

“… Hmm? Sorry, what?” Steve says.

There’s not even that long of a delay in him speaking, but the pause still has Robin’s heart in her throat.

Eddie’s got one foot on a pedal now, ready to set off. He looks back at them with a shaky grin—like he’s terrified, but he’s still gonna have some fun anyway.

“I’m throwing down the gauntlet, King Steve. Bet I’ll be faster than you.”

Steve scoffs, stands up a little straighter before he mirrors Eddie, balancing on the bike with one foot on the pedal.

“How much are we betting?”

Eddie huffs. “Oh, no money involved,” he says nonchalantly. He raises an eyebrow in challenge. “This is just for the glory.”

And God, there’s that spark back in Steve’s eyes; it’s like Robin can physically see his competitive streak giving him strength.

Eddie Munson, you beautiful soul, she thinks, I could kiss you.

“Faster than me? Yeah, maybe in your dreams, Munson,” Steve says.

But Eddie’s already speeding off with a comical whoop; Steve curses as he hurriedly tries to catch up, yelling, “You dick, that’s cheating!”

“Not in my rulebook!” Eddie says with a cackle.

And for a little while, that’s enough to put Robin’s mind at ease: watching the pair of them taunt each other like kids—hearing Nancy laugh at the spectacle as she bikes alongside her.

But then she falls through the Gate, Eddie close behind her, and they freeze when Steve screams Nancy’s name with such fear.

Robin’s plunged back into a mind-numbing panic; she’s sure that her heart doesn’t even begin to slow until they’ve left the trailer park, until Steve’s control of the RV switches from ‘holy shit, we’re on the run, what have our lives become?’ to something more normal—the reliable, measured driving she’s familiar with, taking her to and from school or work.

Finally, she has time to, um�� take stock. Of… things.

She wobbles her way over to Eddie, grabbing onto his elbow as Steve takes a turning.

Eddie instantly holds her up, a steadying hand around her waist. “Oh, hi. I’ve gotcha—” “Your music isn’t actually shit,” Robin says in one breath. “I know, um, on balance, it’s probably not the worst thing I could’ve said, but the delivery was—but, you know, considering I thought Nance was literally about to die, I’d say it was, like, kinda calm all things considered, but—”

Eddie’s chuckling. “Yeah, on balance,” he echoes teasingly, “you were pretty damn funny, actually. Uh, sorry for. Um. Screaming at you? Basically?”

“Basically,” Robin agrees. “Yeah, you were like impressively loud. Not quite eardrum-rupturing level, but y’know, I don’t actually know anyone who’s really had that happen to them; Amanda Wallis said she ruptured hers at the pep rally ‘cause she was standing too close to us—the band, I mean, but—”

Eddie rolls his eyes. “Oh, that’s bull, there’s no way that’d be loud enough to—”

“—I think she just had a grudge ‘cause David C on mellophone got literally the tiniest bit of spit on her, and he was only—”

“Yeah, well, everyone knows you sit in the splash zone at your own risk.”

“Exactly! She’s had plenty of time to learn marching band protocol.”

“Uh-huh, protocol,” Eddie echoes again, with a giggle.

He’s got a nice kind of laugh, Robin thinks: one where she’s never in doubt that he’s laughing with her rather than at her.

“That stuff you do’s pretty cool,” he says; with his free hand, he actually imitates her mime of playing a trumpet. “You must have good, uh…” She can see the exact moment that he’s having second thoughts about saying it, but he forges ahead anyway, with a hilariously uncertain, “Good… lungs?”

“Fascinating attempt at a compliment,” Robin says. “Luckily for you, I accept insults as, like, equal tokens of friendship.”

Eddie does a double take. He doesn’t go so far as letting out a questioning, “We’re friends?”, but he might as well have said it anyway: his eyes widen for a moment, like someone who’s just been unexpectedly asked out to prom.

Steve takes another turning; he does it smoothly enough, but even he can’t stop the RV from moving with it, and Robin stumbles again, very nearly ends up repeating how she toppled right onto Eddie in The Upside Down.

“Woah there, you’re good,” Eddie says, “just gotta find your, uh, what’s it called? Your equilibrium.”

“I don’t have any,” Robin says, all theatrical devastation, and Eddie snorts.

“Sure you do, Buckley. Look, just take my—yeah, that’s it, then just kinda straighten up… yeah, you’ve got it.”

And yes, after a minute or so, Robin’s footing does feel more certain, but she still keeps a stubborn grip on Eddie’s elbow, just in case.

“God, d’you know what I’m gonna do when all this is over?” Eddie says.

“Pray tell.”

“I’m gonna make a list. What was it you said, Madonna, Blondie…? Whatever, I’m getting all of them, m’never getting caught out like that again.”

“I’m hoping that needing music to evade the clutches of a serial killer from an alternate dimension is, um, strictly a one-time thing.”

“Don’t care,” Eddie says. “Still buying those tapes. Just in case.”

And yeah, it’s said partly in jest, but Robin can hear that he means it. Still, it’s the most optimistic that she’s heard him be so far: making plans for after, like he can really see a way through this. Like maybe he finally knows that they’ll help him get there.

“Need a list of tapes from you too, Buckley. You and Harrington.”

Robin smiles. Her first thought is of singing Total Eclipse of the Heart from the dirt-ridden floor of a mall bathroom, but then she thinks of every car ride with Steve, every time they’ve turned up the radio to belt along, and she knows that there are way too many songs to count.

“Forget a list,” Robin says, “I could fill a book. Same for big boy over there.”

Eddie blinks, like he’s suddenly taking stock, too. “Oh yeah,” he says, laughing lightly, “I did say that, huh?”

“Sure did. I was doubting my ears, too.”

Robin had been hoping they’d long since reached the point of being able to joke around with one another. But while Eddie does laugh again, he also starts biting at his thumbnail, glancing over at Steve in the driver’s seat.

“Um, hey.” Robin manages to keep her balance, briefly pressing her knee against his leg. “I didn’t mean anything by it, Eddie.”

“No, I know.” Eddie huffs self-effacingly. “I’ve kinda got permanent foot-in-mouth disease, my report cards would tell you that.”

Well, if he wants to pass it off as sometimes I just say the darnedest things, Robin would be a hypocrite to deny him.

It fascinates her in a sad sort of way though, how he veers between joking and nervousness—like he’s worried he’s intruding on their group, of overstepping somehow.

She wants to tell him: Look, we all got dragged into this, but we chose to stick around, and you’re no different.

But she no longer has the aftermath of Russian drugs to help bypass her own nerves, to kickstart her sincerity.

“Hey, you’re awfully quiet back there,” Steve calls, and Eddie startles.

Robin shakes her head. “Not us, that’s his—”

“Hello? Henderson, I’m talking to you.”

“We’re not even doing anything!” Dustin shouts back in exaggerated affront.

He’s sat on the backseat of the RV, peering out the window along with Lucas, Erica and Max. Robin stifles a chuckle at the sight; they look like they’re on a field trip—the cool kids at the back of the bus.

“Yeah, well, just checking,” Steve says, amused. “For all I know, you coulda been building a gigantic radio again on, like, the roof of this thing.”

“Cerebro,” Dustin says, just as Eddie lets out a baffled, “Uh, again?”

But then they’re pulling into The War Zone’s parking lot, and any chatter abruptly dies.

Afterwards, Steve gets off the road to park in a reassuringly deserted field. They don’t head outside right away (Robin’s not exactly looking forward to prepping Molotov cocktails), instead staying in the RV to eat junk food they’d grabbed beforehand.

Robin discovers that Dustin’s somehow bought five more cans of Pringles and snorts, declaring, “You’ve got a problem.”

At some point, Steve tries to sneak off to the bathroom so he can change his dressings—“And use actual proper bandages!” Robin calls to him; no offence to Nancy’s resourcefulness, but the torn shirt strips only do so much good.

It becomes a more comical than horrifying event, although she’s sure that’s down to Steve deliberately making it so, like a sleight of hand trick: playing it down as he keeps talking to the kids throughout, never wincing even once.

He ends up having to keep the bathroom door open to continue an argument with Erica over which Scoops Ahoy sundae was the best of all time—then figures that he might as well just step out into the open anyway.

At least the wounds have stopped bleeding—although the sight of Steve cleaning around them with bottled water is one that Robin could personally do without.

The kids are entirely unfazed. They flock to Steve, peering at the glimpses he lets them see like he’s just got a cool tattoo. Robin supposes that after El and whatever nightmare wormy thing was in her leg, they’ve seen everything.

Eddie, however, is another matter. He keeps quiet about it, not obvious at all, but Robin watches his face grow paler and paler before Steve wraps the new bandages around his stomach.

Dustin, bless his precocious little heart, must also notice, because he quickly starts up a seemingly impromptu game of charades, meaning that Eddie is soon distracted by his ridiculously over the top gestures.

“No, Steve, how are you not getting this?”

“I thought the whole appeal of this game was that you’re not meant to talk, Henderson. Dude, watch it, you nearly took Max’s eye out with… whatever the hell that was.”

“Oh my god, it’s Back to the Future, obviously! Ow, Max, I didn’t mean to—uh, yeah, the mime needs to be that big, how else am I gonna project what—”

“Dustin, I swear to god, I’m about to project you out the window,” Steve drawls.

Eddie laughs, hides it behind his hand.

But Steve must catch it, because he glances over at Eddie and winks before he’s dragged back into guessing another movie title.

And Robin’s obviously seen Steve wink before—he does it all the time, so much so that she’s become quite adept at reading when it’s a friendly one for her, or if he’s sharing some kind of in-joke with one of the kids.

She’s also seen his attempts at a ‘smooth’ wink towards some girls at work—and look, he’s Steve Harrington, it’s not like he’s going to be bad at it.

But if you ask Robin, it’s never looked quite right, like he’s always performing to an audience he’s unsure of.

But this wink doesn’t look like it belongs to either of those categories. Well, it’s got something in common with the first: that it looks entirely natural, as if he’s doing it almost without thinking. Like it just feels right.

They go through some more rounds of charades—Dustin’s gestures, if possible, getting even more dramatic—and Eddie gradually goes from contributing a few guesses to none at all, curling up on the backseat. He looks utterly wiped out.

Robin tries to catch Nancy’s eye, and after a few attempts, she gets the message, stands up with a nod.

“Okay, let’s take this outside, guys.”

“Spoken like a true camp counsellor,” Max says.

Nancy acts like she’s offended, but her lips keep twitching into a smile. “Max, never say that to me again.”

“There’s more space outside,” Erica says, “so we can duck out the way of Dustin’s windmilling arms.”

“Hey!”

“I’m bored of charades,” Lucas says. “We could do another competition? Like, I dunno, cartwheels or handstands or something?”

“Oh sure, so I can show you up?” Max returns, grinning.

Steve scoffs. “Uh, if you’re doing a cartwheel competition, I would win.”

“Since when?” Dustin says, an obvious taunt that Steve predictably rises to, flipping him off.

“Save your athletics for Vecna, please,” Nancy cuts in dryly.

“It wouldn’t be a fair fight.” Lucas gestures to Steve’s stomach, a little uncertainly. “You know, considering…”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Whatever. Under normal circumstances, I would kick all your asses.”

“Sure,” Robin says brightly, “but Steve, if you do literally anything more strenuous than sitting down right now, I’m gonna—”

“Uh, Steve would kick your asses, actually,” Eddie says slowly. His voice is muffled from the way his hand’s holding up his chin, partly covering his mouth. “He did gymnastics.”

Robin, surprised, looks to Steve; he’s doing that thing where he scratches at his cheek unconsciously, seems to be a mixture of embarrassed and pleased.

“How’d you know that?” he asks.

Eddie shrugs. “We didn’t have a cover for gym one time, remember? There was a whole group of us slacking off but you just kept doing, y’know,” he twirls his fingers, “tricks on that box thingy.”

“Vaulting box,” Steve corrects like he can’t stop himself. He’s sporting an almost abashed little smile that Robin’s never seen before.

Eddie shrugs again. “S’all Greek to me,” he says, interrupts himself halfway through with a deep yawn.

Steve’s eyes soften. And then he’s ushering the kids outside, “C’mon, you can do whatever competition you want for thirty minutes before we get to work.”

“Got it, coach.”

“Shut up, Mayfield.”

“I’ll be your stopwatch if you’re doing handstands,” Nancy chips in, bringing up the rear—she catches Robin’s eye again, subtly tilts her head in Eddie’s direction and mouths Stay?

Robin nods.

“Uh, that won’t be accurate at all,” comes Dustin’s rebuttal—he’s outside now, but his voice still carries. “Unless you can like accurately keep time in your head down to the second—”

“Oh my god, Dustin, you’re such a shithead.”

“Nancy Wheeler, I’m heartbroken.”

Steve’s chuckle floats through the open door. “She said it, dude, not me.”

“You say it all the goddamn time!”

And then the voices fade away until all Robin can hear is distant laughs and joyful screams. It’s relaxing, in its own way.

“No gymnastics for you, Buckley?” Eddie says.

“Nope, not since 7th grade. Managed two cartwheels before I broke my wrist.”

Eddie winces in sympathy. He’s slumping a bit more; Robin makes herself comfy in the opposite corner of the backseat, gives him the most space.

She feels a weird lump at her back, behind one of the cushions. A quick investigation reveals an issue of TV Guide Magazine.

“Ooh, we can find out what we missed while on the run,” she says, waggling it in front of Eddie.

He smiles with a small huff. “Doubt it. Says 1981 on the front.”

“What’s a little more time travel?”

Robin flicks through to the crossword. She’s all too aware that Eddie’s still sat more stiffly than anything else. With Steve, it would be so easy; she could prod him in the thigh with her toe, light touches until he took the hint and relaxed.

But even before they’d really become friends, they were tactile: a tap on the shoulder to grab attention, bumping hips to move each other out of the way whenever they were scooping ice-cream at the same time. It’d been done so unconsciously, like they were already learning to read each other’s minds.

With Eddie, it’s clear that a different approach is needed.

Robin had caught onto that after her misstep at the boathouse, a pit in her stomach at the sight of Eddie’s hands shaking.

But her instinct to reach out, to soothe, made her unthinkingly try again; as they walked in the woods, she’d heard his breathing quicken, and her hand lightly brushed his back. She drew back as he instantly flinched at her touch.

“Sorry, sorry,” she said hurriedly. “Just—just checking you were okay. Sorry.”

Eddie just stared at her before nodding hesitantly.

And Robin wanted to tell him that it wasn’t by chance, that he had people who cared about him; that she did, and it wasn’t a fluke or an accident—she was choosing it.

She keeps her eyes on the magazine, jots down a few crossword answers. It reminds her of summer days spent reading on her grandparents’ porch, not wanting to startle a cat her grandpa had rescued as it approached her. It was always so spooked.

“You’ve just gotta let him come to you, sweet pea,” her grandma would say.

After a couple minutes, she hears Eddie breathe out, the creak of the seat as he lies down. He rests his head right next to her thigh.

“S’good?” he asks, pointing at the magazine.

“It’s pretty easy.” One of the crossword clues is ‘The Lion, the Witch, and the?’ which isn’t exactly taxing. “I’m used to doing the cryptic ones.”

Eddie laughs. He kinda sounds fond. “Of course you are.”

“They’re not that hard, once you know how to read ‘em.”

“Hmm, I doubt that. Lay one on me, Buckley.”

She purses her lips in thought. “Oh, I got this one last week. Condition of Wyoming, five letters.”

Eddie lifts his head ever so slightly to give her a blank look. “Not a fucking clue.”

“State. Get it? ‘Cause ‘condition’ is the definition, and Wyoming is literally—”

“God, I’m surrounded by geniuses.”

“Well, I’ve got the advantage of a summer of code-breaking.”

Robin slowly raises her hand as she speaks—makes sure to do it in Eddie’s line of vision, spots that he doesn’t pull back, that he even gives the tiniest half-nod. She pats his head twice.

Eddie scrunches up his nose. “Sorry, my hair’s gross.”

“It’s not that bad,” Robin says honestly. “Y’know for being on the run, it’s holding up pretty well. I’m getting whatever shampoo you use.”

Eddie smiles. “Sure.”

“Yours is looking way better than mine did after, like, one day getting wrapped up in all this.” Again, without really thinking, Robin adds, “I had all this sweat and blood and puke in it.”

Eddie’s eyes are closed now. He makes an unhappy sound, prods gently at her knee. “You’ve all gotta work on telling me horrific shit. That should not be casual for you, Buckley.”

He sounds emphatic—protective, even. Robin feels unexpectedly emotional.

“Yeah, sorry. Bad habit.”

Silence falls, and by the time Steve enters the RV, Robin has filled in the whole crossword, Eddie dozing by her side.

Steve’s getting another bottle of water—actually drinking it this time. He’s got grass stains on his knees, and he’s sweating slightly, like the ‘stay still’ advice hasn’t once been taken.

His eyes soften again when he sees Eddie sleeping—he doesn’t need to linger, but he does.

Robin watches.

We need more time, Steve, she thinks suddenly. For you to keep looking at him like that—for him to be awake to see it.

Steve tears his eyes away. Lands on her.

She smiles, mouthing What?

Steve rolls his eyes. He imitates her ‘what?’ mockingly, but then he smiles back and taps at his wrist, mimes winding a watch on. It’s what they do whenever they’re slammed at work, wanting to talk, but only able to briefly catch each other’s eyes in the rush. Later.

She taps her wrist. Later, she promises.

He gives her a double thumbs up—what a dork—before heading back outside.

Robin quietly puts the magazine away. Ever so carefully, she lightly strokes Eddie’s hair, feels her heart swell and break at the same time when he sighs contentedly in his sleep.

You’d better look after yourself, Eddie Munson, she thinks. You’ve got people here. People who really want you to stick around.

[mermaids-ate-my-dinner]

Hot Take

Heros of Olympus would be so much better if everybody was single.

[n4391]

Taking a break at Lambad’s Tavern!

[confetkitti]

party person to party pony communication

[arainywriter]

new fav brennan and ally pic dropped

[imfinereallyy]

Steve Harrington hadn’t talked to his dad in a year.

The last thing the two of them had talked had been after the earthquakes, across the room in the den; his dad barely stepped through the front entryway, and Steve’s back pressed against the back door. The house was messy but still standing, unlike Steve, who was broken and barely keeping himself upright. The only thing Richard Harrington had said to Steve was,

“I think it’s time to move on.” Which was his way of telling Steve they were selling the house and he should figure out his own arrangements. Steve hadn’t cared, though. Didn’t even look at him as he spoke. Instead, he stared at the cracks in the ceiling and wondered if it was some kind of metaphor.

He tried not to think too deeply about it.

It had been a year since then. There had been time to move on, as his dad said. There was no more Upside Down. There was no more worrying about the next move. Max and Eddie were healed. Everyone was back in Hawkins. Robin and Steve lived in a little house on Fifth while Robin took community courses. Eddie practically lived there, too, with the strange friendship bond that had grown between the three of them.

Eddie had argued once it was because their couch was comfier than his bed, but Steve liked to think it was because Eddie wanted to be close to them. To be close to him. Sometimes Steve thought about letting him stay in his bed together.

Time had not moved to that yet.

Everything seemed good. Despite Steve’s resentment towards Richard, and his reluctance to admit the man was right, sometimes it was good to let things go, break apart and move on. Though Steve was sure, this wasn’t exactly what Harrington Sr. meant.

Steve hadn’t talked to his father in over a year. And he didn’t really miss him. Sure, there were moments that passed when Steve would yearn for the small happy moments between them. Secret smiles at baseball games, lunch at his office, and him cheering Steve on at the one swim championship he managed to show up to.

But it always got mixed in with bigger, badder moments. Being left alone for months on end. The belittling. The missed graduation. The yelling. The slurs when he grew his hair out too long. The cold way he said to Steve,

“I think it’s time to move on.”

Like he had been breaking up with a high school sweetheart before leaving for college.

So Steve didn’t miss the man, not really. But in moments like these, in the back of the Byers-Hopper’s backyard at the Father’s Day BBQ, where all party members and parents alike gathered, Steve couldn’t help but ache.

Steve ached for something better than Richard Harrington.

It wasn’t because of parents who stuck around that made Steve’s stomach churn in jealousy, but the ones who decided to show up. It was the way Wayne threw his arm around Eddie’s shoulder and the cheers their beers to something probably ridiculous. The way Steve knew that man would crawl to the ends of the earth for someone who wasn’t technically his, but was nothing short of a son.

It was the way El and Hop manned the grill together. Him laughing at something El said, probably something ridiculous, and her smile back that could light up the sun. The way Steve knew that El wasn’t a replacement for the things Hop had lost, but instead an addition to his life he would choose over and over again.

Steve ached to be loved and care for because someone wanted to. Not because of obligation or by accident. Steve wanted to loved deliberately.

Steve sipped his beer instead of bringing down the celebration with his thoughts. Eddie caught Steve’s eye across the yard and gave him a megawatt smile. Steve couldn’t help but smile shyly back.

“Hey, Steve.” A shy voice said beside him, startling him out of his thoughts. Steve turned to find Dustin standing beside him, nearly up to his nose now with his recent growth spurt. Steve couldn’t help but miss when he was small and could throw him over his shoulder.

Steve was a little surprised to find him there. Dustin wasn’t one to speak small or shy. He liked to make his presence known (much like the lovable metal head he was staring down earlier).

“Hey bud, what’s up?”

Dustin looked around the two of them before answering. Everyone else was with their dads, or talking to one of the party members. Even Robin managed to wrangle her dad and Mr. Sinclair into a conversation about WWII. Dustin looked a little relieved everyone was doing their own thing.

“Okay so you know how like, everyone is celebrating their dad today? And mine isn’t here?”

Steve felt his stomach drop. Somehow in the midst of his self-pitying, he had forgotten that Dustin’s dad wasn’t around either. Didn’t even stick around long enough for his first words. “Yea, dude, I’m sorry this must suck for you.”

Dustin looked nervous. He shifted on his feet back and forth, as if he was trying to find a rhythm to calm himself down. “Yea, so that’s what I actually came over to talk to you about.”

“Yea, Dustin. Im here if you need to talk.”

Dustin seemed to finally be at ease and rolled his eyes at Steve. “No, asshole, I don’t need to talk. I haven’t thought about the dick in years, if I’m honest. I just, it’s something else. And you don’t get to be weird about it.”

“I’m confused.”

“That sounds about right.”

“Hey!” Steve laughed despite his protest. A year ago, stuff like that hurt Steve’s feelings. But now Steve knew it was all in good fun, that Dustin was kind of dick to everyone. And he knew that the joke wasn’t about his intelligence. It hadn’t been a long time, since Steve threatened to push him out of a moving vehicle last time. Steve was pretty sure it had to do with a particular conversation involving his feelings for more than women.

Only Dustin and Robin knew. She was overly supportive, and Dustin instantly made a joke. Both made Steve supported and safe.

The dumbasses.

“Not my fault this happens to you often.”

“Is there a point being made or are you here to just be a dick?” Steve questioned, laughing behind the lip of his beer.

Dustin fidgeted again before pulling something out his back pocket. “Just—promise not to laugh.”

Steve crossed his heart with a giggle before he took a folded white piece of paper out of Dustin’s hands.

Suddenly, Steve’s face got serious as he saw what was on the front.

A poorly drawn Steve with a nail baseball bat, with the title “Happy Father’s Day”.

Steve swallowed thickly before placing his beer on the ground and opening the card. There in Dustin’s chicken scratch, was a message.

Dear Steve,

Don’t be weird about this. Okay here it goes.

My dad wasn’t around a lot, big whoop. Big surprise. I honestly don’t care anymore. Don’t give me a look.

I honestly didn’t think I would really care about any of the dad stuff, didn’t feel like I was really missing out. My mom and her annoying love for cats has always been more than enough. But as time went by sometimes I thought maybe I would be better, I would be different if I had a dad. I see it with the rest of the party, how willingly or unwillingly they all reflect their dads. And how I don’t.

Sometimes I don’t feel like my whole self because if it. Thought maybe I would never really be a whole me because of it. That maybe the world was better off anyway because I know I am a lot.

But then I met you asshole.

I didn’t think I would like you, and more importantly I didn’t think you would like me. But suddenly we are battling worlds together, and you’re hanging out with me even outside the end of days, and I have a new best friend.

If I’m being honest I do see you more as a brother. Someone I look up to. But the more I think about it (again don’t be weird), I do see you as a dad some days. Although the hands on hips do scream mother hen, you’ve been a dad to me in the ways the asswipe who made someone as amazing as me hasn’t been.

You are brave, and funny and despite popular belief you are kind. One of the kindest people I know. You make me feel safe and loved, and give me rides despite me never giving you gas money. Some days I look in the mirror and see parts of you in me, and I feel proud.

Some days I look at you and hope that I can see the braveness and kindness in myself too. I don’t yet, but you make it feel possible.

I don’t need a sperm donor (thank you Robin for that one), I have the world’s okayest dad right here.

Love you brother, friend, dad.

Happy Father’s Day, from your fellow nerd,

Dustin <3

Steve was crying. He knew that. He knew he promised not to make it weird, but Steve couldn’t help it. The little shit got him right in the heart.

He couldn’t be blamed for scooping up Dustin in a hug. “I love you too, Dusty Buns.”

Dustin squeezed Steve tight, “You don’t get to call me that.” He grumbled, but Steve could feel his tshirt getting wet.

“As your father it is my right to get to call you embarrassing nick names.” Steve squeezed Dustin even tighter.

Dustin just laughed and pushed him away jokingly. They both wiped their eyes, but the smiles on their faces remained.

Steve thought about Richard at that moment again, about how he ached for someone to care. And maybe Steve would never get it, but he could be that someone for someone else. He could give that care, Dustin.

The little shit.

“Thank you Dustin.”

Dustin shook his head, his crooked smile remained. “Nah man, thank you.”

They both just stared at each other in comfortable silence before they were interrupted by a barking force.

“What are you two saps talking about?” Eddie slung his arms around the both of them, mouth spread wide in a grin. But then he noticed the tear tracks, and suddenly his face dropped.

Eddie took Steve’s face in his hands, “What’s wrong? What happened?”

Steve shook his head fondly, “Nothing—“ He started, preparing to wave it off. But then Steve realized he couldn’t lie to Eddie. “—nothing bad. Happy tears. I promise.”

Eddie looked at Steve for a moment before nodding, giving his face a tight squeeze, and then dropping his hands. “Okay, Stevie, as long as their happy tears.”

“What am I? Chopped liver?” Dusting grumbled.

“Aweee Dusty, I could never forget you!!” Eddie threw himself at Dustin in a horrible attempt at a hug.

Dustin just pushed him off before rolling his eyes. Steve swore they were gonna get stuck one day.

“Whatever, man. Just make sure that you treat my dad right, or I’m going to have to make some tough calls.” Dustin stared down Eddie seriously before laughing evilly and walking away.

Steve wanted to freeze at Dustin’s implication, but Eddie looked adorably confused, so Steve didn’t feel too bad.

“What’s that supposed to mean? Is this new? Him just getting protective about this without explaining?” Eddie asked Steve.

“Don’t worry about it.” Steve looked down at the card again wistfully, before glancing back up at Eddie. Steve took one of Eddie’s hands and started to play with his rings. A blush bloomed across Eddie’s cheeks; Steve wanted to kiss him. Instead, he just said,

“Just think he’s trying to be a little like his dad.”

***

Dad’s are complicated, and family isn’t always blood. I hope you enjoyed my little Father’s Day contribution. I do headcannon Hopper as Steve’s father figure/replacement, and usually write it that way but this seemed like a fun opportunity to show how Steve is his own father figure for others.

He is a good egg.

Now with Father’s Day over, my birthday is in two weeks which is making me feel all sorts of things. So I’m distracting myself with steddie. Either way expect a lot of writing and updates soon.

[hairmetal666]

What if, after Vecna is defeated, Eddie lives and is recovering in the hospital and one day he's just gone. Like, Steve and the kids come to visit and his hospital room doesn't even exist anymore. It's just a blank stretch of wall. The nurses, nurses they know worked with Eddie, say they've never heard of Eddie Munson and there's never been a room where the kids insist there was the day before. Anyone else they ask says they've never heard the name, even though it was only weeks ago that the entire town formed a mob to hunt him down. Hopper and Murray look into it and there's no record of an Edward Munson in any database anywhere. His previous arrests are gone, his fingerprints, record of Wayne becoming his legal guardian, his social security number, his birth certificate. Even his Uncle Wayne, gone without a trace. Like neither man ever existed.

They search for years, always hoping for word, or a return, or anything. But Eddie was there one day and gone the next. Apparently forever.

They mourn, all of them. He was part of the group, part of the family, and then he was gone with no fanfare or goodbye. Then he was gone and every force in the world pretended like he'd never been there in the first place.

Steve, quietly, takes it hard. He spends weeks crying himself to sleep, clutching the ruined battle vest to his chest. It's just unfair, is all, Steve thinks. '86 was supposed to be Eddie's year.

Time passes and they all grow up, all move away from Hawkins. Steve and Robin move to Indy; she starts college and Steve gets a job at a little bakery because he's a regular already and they're hiring.

He loves baking, finds it calming in a way very few things are for him anymore. After a few good years, the store becomes his, and he didn't know he could be this happy or satisfied with his life, after everything.

He never stops thinking of Eddie.

Close to Steve's 30th birthday, a little bookstore opens up in the vacant building across the way. Steve sees the owner sometimes, dark hair pulled into a sloppy bun, pale skin, the occasional hint of black ink under his dark clothes. Beautiful. They wave at each other almost every morning and Steve ignores the reminders of Eddie. They're commonplace now. Any man with long dark hair, tattoos, and black clothing stirs a spark of recognition in Steve's gut, and the disappointment still hurts even after a decade.

Weeks pass and Steve notices a new display in the window of the bookstore; those dnd guides all the boys have, the dice with too many sides, the little plastic figures and pots of paints and delicate brushes. He vows, the next time the kids are in town, they'll go over and he'll finally introduce himself to that probably nice man whose only sin was a slight resemblance to a boy from Steve's past.

The kids come for a visit only a few weeks later, and are just as enthusiastic about going to the bookstore as he is to take them. He has them help bake his secret-recipe sugar cookies, decorate them in a dnd theme (Erica and Max say they're dorky, and he agrees, despite being pleased with the results).

Steve heads to the bookstore first, to warn the guy about the veritable horde of feral young adults about to descend on his quiet store.

He walks in to the sound of a gently ringing bell and Metallica playing at low volume on the store's speakers. Steve has to ignore it or he'll walk out.

"Be right with you," a muffled voice calls out.

"Take your time," he responds. He browses with the container of cookies in his arms, taking in all the dnd stuff, the signs about dnd club meetings, the stacks of new release books and a couple cds.

"Sorry to keep you waiting," a soft, husky voice says back at the front of the store. It breaks Steve out in goosebumps.

"Don't worry about it. I'm from the bakery across the street, wanted to finally introduce myself. I brought goodies," he adds, sort of blushing.

He steps back up to the cash register, eyes finally settling on the owner he's only seen from afar and all the breath leaves his body. It leaves him lightheaded, dizzy.

Eddie Munson. Eddie. Munson. Stands behind the counter, hair in a bun with messy tendrils around his face. He looks the exact same. Maybe a few more lines around his mouth and eyes. But the same.

"Ed--Eddie?" Steve's voice croaks out. He barely manages to drop the cookies onto the counter and not the floor.

Eddie's deep brown eyes flood with tears, a hand--every finger with a ring--covers his mouth. "Steve," the other man sobs.

There's no hesitation as Steve flings himself into Eddie's arms, the other man catching him and holding him tight.

Eddie squeezes him, crying against Steve's shoulder. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," he repeats.

"I can't believe you're real," Steve murmurs between soft sobs, pressing his face against Eddie's neck.

"I'm real. I'm here," Eddie agrees. "I'm right here, sweetheart."

Steve pulls out of the embrace a little, just to look at Eddie's face. To see after all these years. He presses trembling fingers against the line of Eddie's jaw, and the other man leans into the touch, lets Steve trace the contours of his cheeks, his mouth.

"You're here," Steve agrees.

Their eyes lock, drink each other in, ten years of longing dancing at the knobs of Steve's spine.

"They took me away," Eddie says, deep brown of his eyes serious and pleading. "The government. They snuck me out in the middle of the night and forced me and Wayne to adopt new identities, sent us to New Mexico. Monitored us so I couldn't contact any of you. It killed me, Stevie. To be away from you. From Robin. The kids."

That snaps Steve out of his daze. "Oh, shit. The kids."

It's too late, though. The bell at the door jingles, the usual cacophony that accompanies the seven of them filling the little store in an instant.

Dustin's voice rings out, above the others, "this store is so fucking cool."

"Language," Eddie scolds on auto-pilot. When he realizes what he said and why, his eyes wash with new tears.

The kids turn, as one, to the man they never thought they'd see again.

Steve's fingers dance down Eddie's arm, finding his hand, twining their fingers together. Eddie tightens his grip. Steve's never letting go of this man ever again, and he knows with some deep, element certainty that Eddie feels the same.

"Eddie?" Dustin exclaims.

"Hiya, kid." Eddie smiles a little, ducks his head.

"What the fuck," Max says.

"Anyone have time for a story?" Eddie asks. He dashes away the few tears that track down his cheeks.

"We have all the time in the world," Steve agrees. Doesn't think before he lifts Eddie's hand and presses a kiss just below his knuckles.

[sockiepuppetry]

it's not a phase

It's genetic

[dailyloopdeloop]

DAY 71: shy