#PROTECTIVE UNCLE STEVE!

[afewproblems]

'Harring' flashes on the caller ID again, illuminated in bright green on the handheld phone in their kitchen.

It's the third time they've called today and Steve is anxious.

He hasn't heard from his parents in the last six years since he cut off all contact with them, so to see their name come up so many times all in the span of an afternoon is...well it's worrisome to say the least.

"Are you going to pick up," Eddie says as he comes up behind Steve, he drapes himself over his lovers back and nuzzles into his ear.

Steve smiles tightly and breathes out, "I don't know".

He turns in Eddie's arms to face him and brings his own arms around Eddie's lower back, holding him loosely.

"It's weird, right?" Steve says softly, "what do they want?" He slides his nose up and down Eddie's own before tipping his face up to his the tip of it.

Eddie hums, "well you won't know unless you answer love," he answers Steve's kiss with one of his own, soft against his lips, "if they call again, maybe pick up?"

Steve nods and flinches as the ringer starts up again behind them.

He breathes in deeply through his nose and out slowly through his mouth, Eddie brings up a hand to cup Steve's jaw and slides his thumb over his cheekbone.

"You got this," Eddie whispers, "if they say something shitty, just hang up, fuck em".

Steve nods and whirls around to snatch the phone off the console, he bites his lip for just a moment before saying a quiet, "Hello?"

"Steven?" A soft voice cracks wetly over the speaker and a sudden chill spreads over Steve's back.

"Mom?"

"Steven, honey," Diane Harrington says softly in a tone he's never heard before, "I need you to come home".

Steve turns around, Eddie is leaning against the opposite wall with his arms crossed, Steve feels his face contort with confusion which Eddie answers with a tilt of his head, "what? Mom, no--"

"Steven honey, this is important--"

"No offense," Steve intejects harshly, he's gripping the phone so hard the plastic creaks under his fingers. Eddie's concerned gaze has him releasing the phone from his death grip in a matter of seconds, but it's hard. He's right back there, nineteen years old again, in a screaming match with his dad in the living room, a red handprint blooms over his jaw as he tells Robert Harrington to, 'go fuck himself,' one last time.

"But, you don't get to do this, it's been years mom so forgive me if--"

"Steven, I'm, I'm sick".

Steve stops, his mouth opens and closes as his mother chokes on a broken sob, it comes through tinny and harsh over the speaker.

She tells him of the diagnosis, some form of leukemia, how it's spread much more rapidly than the doctors anticipated, how she refused treatment.

"I'm not going to spend the rest of my time in a hospital with no hair in one of those godawful hospital beds if I can help it Steven".

They talk for awhile, or really Mrs. Harrington talks for another half hour while Steve stands there silently with the phone in his hands. He nods every now and again but the movements are stiff, Eddie paces around the living room, stopping in front of Steve's eyeline every now and again.

"Okay," Steve finally says, his voice cracks just slightly enough to make Eddie cross the living room towards him.

"Mom...I don't know what you expect me to do?"

"Baby?" Eddie whispers, he stands just off to the side trying to catch Steve's eye.

"No, no--no! Mom, I thought I stopped being a Harrington a long time ago, right?" Steve snarls into the receiver, "you had so many opportunities to tell Dad he was wrong but you just sat there, what else am I supposed to think except that you agree with him?"

"Baby, just hang up--"

"Mom, Ma' you have to stop, I'm not coming back, I'm so-".

His mouth snaps shut and a deep flush begins to rise up his neck and over his cheeks, his eyes glassy.

"I'm sorry you're sick, but I'm not coming back, Goodluck".

Steve removes the phone from his ear, little snippets of words and crying trickle through over the speaker as Steve places the handset back on the dock.

"Baby," Eddie tries again, he reaches out tentatively, slowly letting his hands smooth over Steve's arms at the shoulder.

Steve shakes his head, his jaw clenched as his face crumples, he lets Eddie pull him into his chest and tucks his head into the juncture of Eddie's neck and shoulder.

Steve feels Eddie bring them slowly to the floor as he tries to slow down his breathing.

"I'm so sorry baby," Eddie whispers, pillowing his check onto Steve's head, he nuzzles the fluffy hair just once and squeezes Steve tighter.

"I don't, I just, where was this when she was healthy, it's..." Steve takes a deep breath, "why now, and she's not even sorry --neither of them are," he whispers into Eddies collarbone.

Eddie bites the inside of his cheek, he stays quiet, listening to Steve's breathing stop and start.

"I don't want her to be sick, but I just," he sniffles, "it's not fair, I'm so angry with her, with them both --its like they get a pass for being so shitty for so long--"

"No, no they don't, not if you don't want to," Eddie says, the words are soft but the tone firm, "you don't have to give them anything you don't want to".

"But--"

"Steve," Eddie pulls back just enough for Steve to raise his head, he lifts his hand to cup Steve's cheek, "it doesn't make you a bad person to not want to see her, to see them".

Steve starts to shake his head but Eddie's hand remains steady on his cheek.

"Do you want to see her?" He asks after a beat.

"I, I don't know," Steve pulls his lower lip into his mouth and chews the corner of it until he tastes copper, "I don't..."

Eddie tilts his head and sweeps his thumb across Steve's cheek in encouragement.

"I don't want my mom to die, I want her to want to fucking fight for herself, for me --she's just giving up again, she's just deciding to quit without even trying to be my mom," he chokes out, his voice breaks as tears finally spill down his cheeks.

"I'm not, I'm not explaining it right," Steve bites out, raising his hands to grind harshly into his eyes, "I don't want to forgive her, but I, I think I would if she would just try, I don't know what to do," he trails off as his voice wobbles and wanes, he breathes out harshly and lowers his face back into Eddies neck.

"Okay," Eddie whispers into Steve's hair as he brings Steve closer, bundling him up in his arms, "you don't have to know what to do or how to feel, especially not right now".

Eddie squeezes Steve once more before shifting to his knees to stand. He hoists Steve to his feet and leads him to the kitchen before depositing him in a kitchen table chair.

Eddie busies himself at the stove, moving the half full kettle from the far burner to the largest left coils, he flicks the element on and lowers the whistle back to alert him when the water boils.

"Did I ever tell you how I handled my mom's funeral?" Eddie asks, banishing the quiet from the room and almost startling Steve.

"I yelled at the casket," Eddie says with an air of non-chalance that does not match the words. He grabs two mugs from the cupboard before grabbing a box of tea from the pantry. He leaves the prepped cups on the counter before turning back around to face Steve.

"It was open, shouldn'ta' been," he continues with a shake of his head, "rural town, mortician wasn't used to working on overdoses so, they couldn't quite cover up the purple".

Steve reaches for Eddie's hands as he comes back to the table, in three slow strides. He smiles but a long sigh escapes Eddie as he sits in the chair next to Steve.

"I was thirteen, and I was so, so mad at her for leaving me," Eddie murmurs, "I couldn't help it, Uncle Wayne had to take me home before it was even over".

Eddie raises his head to meet Steve's eyes, "I felt like shit after though, probably cried all night once we got home".

"Im going to tell you what Wayne told me," Eddie says softly, he scoots to the edge of his seat, until his knees are brushing Steve's own.

"When you lose someone that made your life hard, you grieve more than just that person, you also grieve all that lost potential, everything you didn't have with that person," Eddie squeezes Steves hands once more before gently letting them go. He stands up as the kettle begins to squeal from the stove.

"Everything they never gave you and the possibility that they could change, it's like--like that physics guy," Eddie laughs, waving his hands at Steve's confused expression, "you know the one with the cat?"

Steve shakes his head, a small watery smile begins to bloom over his face as Eddie continues to make their tea and explain.

"You'll never know if they could have been better to you because they died, so they both are and aren't a good parent simultaneously," Eddie says, linking his fingers together, "shit, I bet Dustin could explain this better".

He walks their filled mugs over to the table and takes his seat again

"I dunno about that Eds," Steve mumbles as he wipes his eyes, "when did you get so wise?"

"'All Wayne sweetheart," Eddie hums with a soft grin that pulls at the corners of his eyes, he reaches out to wipe a stray tear from Steve's cheek, "don't tell him though, he doesn't need the ego boost".

Steve barks out a laugh, before Eddie pulls him into another tight hug, "so, you don't have to know how you feel right now, okay?"

"Okay".

Steve isn't sure how long they stay like that, but by the time Eddie let's go, their tea has gone cold.

[goggles-mcgee]

Bambino Mio

ST AU where Steve is technically a missing kid in Italy. Richard Harrington had fallen for a women from Italy, Luciana Catalano. Both from well off families, both wanting to see the world before they settled down. It's when they were visiting Luciana's family in Sicily that Luciana was told she couldn't travel and was going to have her baby there. Richard was not happy, to be fair he was not happy before they left to begin with. The two were fighting about anything and everything and her having his son in Italy seemed to make matters worse.

Richard Harrington was not a nice guy and Luciana had learned that a bit too slowly and a bit too late into the relationship. They weren't married, a fact that seemed to make him angry but her oh so happy. She couldn't imagine being tied down to him. He was barely there for her pregnancy and when he was he just made her feel small and inadequate. Then her son was born.

Her beautiful baby Stefano.

Richard was angry enough that his son was born in Sicily and that he would have to do paperwork to make his child have dual citizenship, but then they learned that Luciana was still very weak after the pregnancy and could not travel still. Then it turned out it wasn't just the pregnancy that was making her weak, she was sick. And because she was sick she didn't want to leave her family, plus they were all doing so much to help with Stefano.

Richard just couldn't see that. Or really anything but his own anger and problems. Problems he made for himself. He constantly got mad at her for being sick, for being “weak.” Then there was his desperation, because that was the only word for it, need to take Stefano back to the States to show his parents he had an Heir for the company he told her he didn’t even want. Her family didn't like him but they loved little Stefano who honestly looked so much like her.

They loved having him around and doting on him. He was their precious little Dolcezza! Three years had past and Luciana’s health was slowly getting better, though Richard’s attitude did not help in the slightest. He, of course traveled back to the States from time to time to visit his family, and each time he returned was another time that Luciana questioned what she saw in him. She was fully planning on filing for full-custody as soon as she was back to full health but things changed. 

Richard started acting weird. He didn't pick fights, he started being helpful and Luciana felt stupid to admit she thought maybe just maybe he realized what a blessing her and Stefano were to him. Sure he had to take a lot more business calls, and the calls were very long but she just figured it was a lot of work with him getting more involved in the family business like he said he was doing. Then one day he said he wanted to take Stefano out to the markets for a Father-Son day. Luciana felt stupid about it now but at the time she thought it was nothing more than Richard finally accepting their situation and wanting to integrate himself in her family and Italy more, so she easily agreed. He convinced her he would pack their bags and lunches for the day so she could rest and because he didn’t want to bother any of her family members given the terms they were on at the moment. It made sense to her, maybe if she hadn’t been dosed on so much medication she would have been more clear-headed, but that was the last day she saw her son and Richard. 

Of course she reported it but nothing came of it, he had already fled the country and the biggest shock came when she found out he had lied about his last name their entire relationship. Luciano felt like a fool and fell into a deep depression, but she and the authorities were determined to bring her baby home. 

She had panicked, she had cried, she had raged. Most importantly, she planned.

Every birthday of Stefano’s that passed she cried for her baby boy. She yearned to hold him in her arms and kiss his little nose and just never let him go. Each birthday that past was like a nail in her heart but she and her family did whatever they could based off the information Luciana had of her former lover. They never knew if it was true or not but they did all they could. She got in contact with old friends, who at first refused to talk to her because apparently she was crazy and a stalker and Richard was just oh so scared of what she would do if she found him. ....Yeah. That pissed her off to no end but she stood strong and convinced them of her sanity and credibility, when they found out what Richard had done they were horrified. Each felt betrayed by the man and they made a schedule to message each other on Talkomatic to help Luciana find him and her baby and just to catch up. 

Stefano would have been 10 at that time. Tracking her old friends down took four years, (This was the seventies at the time) then actually getting them to talk to her took three. During that time she was making sure everything was ready for when she traveled back to the States since she knew she would be there for an extended and unknown period of time. 

Stefano was 12 when they found out his father’s name was actually Richard Harrington and not Richard Hartman like he told them all.

He was 12 and a half when they found out Richard Harrington had moved from his family’s home of Indianapolis to the small town of Hawkins. 

It took her no time to fly and settle things so she could stay with a friend that lived in Terre Haute. The move took a lot out of her and unfortunately her health took a small dive again but it was stuff she could manage, but it did take a year before she was up to full health yet again and able to take her case to Hawkins Local Police.

Stefano was 14 when she realized they were doing nothing to help her and had warned Richard and his wife about someone calling to accuse him of child abduction and her sisters Theresa and Chiara joined her. The sisters instead went to the State Police and even sent her case to the FBI just in case she wasn’t treated seriously. Her son turned 15 when she finally got the help she deserved and  he was 17 when the case was solid enough that forces were on the move to track down Richard and Christine Harrington. Luciana and her sisters took that time to buy their own house and apply for their US citizenship because Luciana didn’t want to rip her baby boy from everything he knew despite wanting to take him back to Italy like her heart wanted and her sisters refused to leave them alone. It was a couple months after he turned 17 that everything was set for her to go find her baby boy and explain everything to him. He was practically an adult and that hurt to think about but she was determined to make up the missing years and make it up to him that she and authorities blindsided him with everything.

It was a day in early July that she built up the courage to go find her baby and arrived in Hawkins. She arrived to chaos. She asked what was happening, apparently there was a fire at some mall. Then she asked where she could find Steve Harrington even if the name made her sick, that was not her bambino’s name.

He worked at said mall.

Luciana didn’t even remember stealing that car.

When she arrived it was to the aftermath and she saw many people reuniting with loved ones. Her heart had been in her throat as she barely had even set the car in park before jumping out and running around hoping she would recognize her baby. Then she saw the hair first, just like hers minus the sweat, soot and blood. Oh God blood! She ran and the closer she got she could make out some moles, her Stefano was blessed with many just like his grandfather, but the thing she noticed most was how hurt her son was. He looked awful despite her still thinking he was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen in a long time. There was nothing stopping her tears and her shout of, “Stefano! Mio Bambino!”

He looked at her and she thought she saw him murmur, “Mama?” But she wasn’t sure, she didn’t stop running until she had her son in her arms, she checked him over while stumbling over her words but he just looked at her in awe with his own tears slipping down his face. It was an eventful reunion and she knew she missed a lot of important things but Luciana had her son back and nothing would take him from her. Not again.

In this AU Steve is the same age as Robin, why? because I wanted him to be in school with the kiddos and with Robin and Eddie >3> The length of time was purely for plot reasons, I have no idea how long that would have taken back then. Richard lied about his name because he was awful and at the time had been dating multiple woman and had given each of them a different last name because he didn’t want anything traced back to him, especially kids. (More so if they ended up being girls.) Basically he was a con artist but things with Luciana were somewhat different. He found out she was having a boy and thought he would finally settle down but he found her too “combative” and not at all like a proper wife. His parents, mainly his father was threatening to cut his allowance and cut him out of his inheritance for his “womanizing” ways but when he admitted his latest tryst was having a boy his father was ready to forgive and forget if he brought the boy into the family to be the heir to the family business so they could carry on the Harrington name. 

The hiccup was they absolutely did not want him marrying Luciana since he was already engaged! Yep! An arranged marriage that his father had planned for him ever since he was a teen but he rebelled by traveling and sleeping with any girl he found attractive. His parents helped him with the paperwork and everything to kidnap Steve and falsify his birth certificate with Christine Harrington nee Peters named as his mother. 

Steve knew Christine wasn’t his birth mother but he learned to pretend very quickly. Though he never forgot how his birth mom smelt of honey, spiced apples and garlic. The garlic was never strong in his memories but it was always subtly there. He remembered lullabies sung to him and a soft voice calling him Stefano, but her face had started fading as he grew and it killed him. Every year that past with his father and Christine was another year that little Stefano prayed and hoped and wished his mother would take him away. That she would save him. He stopped wishing at 14. He was 16 when he started to believe he would always be alone. He was 17 when his Mama found him. He thought maybe it was an after effect of the Russian torture but no, she was actually there and for the first time in a long time, Stefano cried. 

[cavinginhisfvce]

billy w two of his boyfriends <3

*why did dj have to choose anyway??? she could've had them both???? (no we're not gonna focus on the fact she chose steve and i made steve h. into eddie. lmao)

[strangerthingscharityzine]

CLOSED!

The first edition of the Stranger Things LGBTQ+ Charity Zine has closed!!! Thank you all! We raised an AMAZING $270 for Transgender Resource, Education, and Enrichment Services!

This idea began as me, a single person, being Big Sad about the mounting legislation states in the USA are passing against LGBTQ+ people. But it is you, all of you, who made this happen. Thank you.

Thank you to everyone who bought a copy of the zine. Thank you to everyone who liked, followed, and reblogged. Thank you to everyone for your patience with me as I failed for several months to actually pull this off. THANK YOU to everyone who contributed art and writing. And thank you to @robthegoodfellow, our graphic designer and the cheerleader who got me in gear and helped this thing get finished.

THANK. YOU.

Please stay tuned! We are super absolutely making a Volume 2.

[luminouslion-spam]

Why is it that I always end up obsessing over the possible relationship between characters that have barely interacted at all?!?

[artiststarme]

Awww, you certainly did my fic justice with this addition. It was amazing and I love how Wayne berates the whole Party in defense of Steve. Thank you for this!

Inspired by the fanfiction link above; kind of an aftermath scenario. I love the idea of Wayne being extra protective of Steve after Steve saved Eddie's life, and getting even more protective of him after he and Eddie start dating. What can I say, I'm a Wayne Munson simp. Also, while I might not have a lot of respect for him anymore, see if you can find the John Mulaney quote I slipped in here! @artiststarme I hope you like it!

Finally Protected

Wayne Munson was a lot of things. A salty grump, a loner, an uncle, a father.

But most of all, he was loyal.

Once someone earned his loyalty, it lasted for life. He would stick with them through thick and thin, and defend them against anyone. And against all odds, Steve Harrington had earned his loyalty.

Anyone with eyes could see that Steve was head over heels in love with Wayne's boy. Which was why he could not comprehend why it was Steve who was on the receiving end of all these goddamn shovel talks.

Found family, my ass, he thought to himself. Even that Buckley girl had given Steve a talk. Were they all stupid? They'd known Steve, really known him, for much longer than Wayne or Eddie had. How could they still think that Steve would hurt anyone, much less Eddie?

The worst thing about it was, Wayne knew that Steve would forgive them. It didn't matter how many times the Party hurt him, Steve would just shrug it off, like his feelings didn't matter. And considering Steve had already earned the loyalty of the Munsons, Wayne had a problem with that.

A big problem.

The day after Eddie apologized and the two boys made up, Wayne dropped by to talk to Steve. Even as he settled on the couch in the living room, he could see the tension in Steve's shoulders.

"You can relax, kiddo," he said. "I'm not mad at ya. Not here to give you another goddamn shovel talk, either."

Steve's eyebrows rose. "Really?"

Wayne nodded. "Eddie's an adult now, and he knows how to take care of himself. No, I'm here to talk about the rest of the Party."

Steve looked confused. "What do you mean?"

Wayne sighed. "Boy, you need to set some boundaries with these people."

"Boundaries?"

"Steve, I know this ain't the first time these folks have hurt you. Lord knows Eddie has gone on many rants about how the kids keep calling you an idiot, or how the Wheeler girl cheated on you after 'she ripped your heart out of your chest and stomped on it.' Eddie's words, by the way."

Steve looked uncomfortable, now. "Well, the kids are just messing around. And I shouldn't have tried to hold on to Nancy the way I did."

"The kids are old enough now to learn how to mess around without being disrespectful. And Nancy should have been honest with you instead of leading you on," Wayne countered.

Steve still looked apprehensive. Wayne sighed (again-he'd been doing that a lot lately).

"Look, Steve, I'm not saying you have to cut them out of your life. I know that'd be devastating for ya. But just letting them hurt you, and not saying a word about it... You deserve better than that."

Steve's eyes misted over. "Yes, I do," he choked out. When Wayne opened his mouth to protest, the kid shook his head rapidly. "You don't understand, Mr. Munson, I was a really bad person in high school. The things I said about people... I'd tear them down without a second thought. I-"

Sensing that Steve was about to go on a self deprecating tangent, Wayne cut him off.

"Did you know that Eddie used to rant about you?"

This seemed to startle the kid. "Um... What?"

Wayne chuckled. "Yeah, I won't go into details, but he was very vocal about how much you bugged him... But then, out of nowhere, in 1984, he stopped. I asked him why, because I was curious. Do you know what he said?"

Steve gulped. "What?"

"He said, and I quote, 'he hasn't actually been an asshole in a while, and now that everyone else is trying to kick him down, I don't want to contribute to that.' You made a change, Steve. Not many people are willing to do that. Hell, most ain't even willing to believe that there's something wrong with em. But you were. I'll keep telling you, as many times as I have to for it to sink in. You don't deserve to be hurt."

The tears Steve had been holding back this whole time finally seemed to overwhelm him. Wayne scooched over to him and wrapped him in a hug.

"You've had to be strong for so long, kid. Let me look after you, yeah? Lord knows you deserve protection just as much as Eddie does."

Steve didn't answer, but he nodded. That was enough for now.

--0--

Wayne had been pacing around Steve's living room for about ten minutes when he finally heard the doorbell ring. It would appear that this group traveled as a pack, because every single member of the party was there.

That is, every member but two.

"Mr. Munson?" Dustin asked confusedly. "What's going on? Where's Steve?"

Wayne grunted. "All of ya just come in. I'll explain once you get settled. And I'm sayin this now, I expect you all to listen."

When everyone was sitting around the living room, Hopper was the first to speak up. "So Wayne, what's going on? Where's the kid?"

Wayne scowled. "If you mean Steve, he's at my trailer with Eddie. If that were big enough, we'd be there instead, but there's too many of you, and I need you all to hear this."

The Buckley girl looked extremely confused. "Why would you want us here if Steve isn't?"

Wayne took a deep breath in an attempt to control his anger. "Because it would seem to me that you lot forget just how much that boy does for all of you."

Joyce furrowed her brow. "Um... What?"

"You folks got a lot of nerve, acting like Steve is the one who's gonna hurt Eddie. He ain't a ticking time bomb, and you gotta stop treating him like it. After everything he's done for you lot, it astounds me how you can still treat him like crap. Found family, my ass."

Nancy Wheeler opened her mouth with an angry expression, but Wayne cut her off. "Don't go acting so high and mighty, Wheeler. Did you even realize that Steve still flinches when anyone uses the word bullshit? You tore his heart out of his chest and stomped on it, and then slept with another guy before you even broke up with Steve properly."

That seemed to shut her up. Good.

"And as for you kids, how many times has Steve taken a beating for you? The only ones that I've seen being respectful to him are Will and El. The rest of you... You've all been the victims of bullies, according to Steve. So explain to me, how in the hell can you justify the way you all treat him on a daily basis? Insulting his intelligence, bossing him around, disregarding the work he's done to change, all of that has to stop."

The kids tried to protest, but Wayne was on a roll. He rounded on Joyce, Hopper, and Robin. "Hopper, Joyce, Eddie is my kid. He ain't your responsibility. You had no right to give Steve that goddamn shovel talk as if he were still the guy he was in high school. And you, Miss Buckley? You call yourself Steve's best friend. You might wanna try acting like it.

"Now, I know that Steve sees you all as family. That's the only reason I ain't told him to cut you folks out of his life. But Steve has got no standard for how he should be treated as a human being. Whether you lot realize it or not, you've all taken advantage of that. He thinks that he deserves it, but I've seen the effort he makes every day to be better than he was. Most won't even accept that they need to be better, and it would seem that you folks are a part of that majority. I know that he deserves better, and I ain't even known him a whole year. That says something about you, don't it?

"Now, you are going to give Steve as much space as he needs. You won't ask him to babysit, you won't ask him to chauffeur you around, you won't ask him for money. You'll take some time to think about how you've treated him. And when you feel you're ready to apologize-not because of guilt or obligation, but because you mean it-you tell me. I'll let Steve know. But only when Steve is ready to see you all again, and not a second more, will I let you talk to him."

Wayne shared a vicious smile with El and Will, and then looked at the rest of them with a raised eyebrow.

"Now get the hell out of my future son-in-law's house."

Fin

[lizard-ratt]

This idea got stuck in my head, not to be taken too seriously. If you find any typos, no you didn't <3

Other than that, I hope you enjoy!

--------------------------------------

Steve Harrington knew how to haggle. Raised by the most cutthroat business man in all of the state of Indiana, if not the United States as a whole, he knew the ins and outs of getting the best deal possible. He used this to his advantage a lot more than anyone knew.

The first time he brought out Steven Elias Harrington, son of Richard Jay Harrington was when he first got forced to sign NDAs to keep quiet about everything going on in Hawkins, Indiana. Despite only having shown up at the end, he still had a fat stack of papers to work through.

And he worked through the entire thing, taking his sweet precious time to read the entire thing, word for word. He signed nothing that day, letting the government employees watch as he took notes on every little detail, humming to himself, scoffing, and overall being as annoying about it as possible.

"These are terrible. Do better." He didn't say that exactly, but it was the general consensus as he gave them a verbal dressing down that would make his father proud (and his father was never proud). He made demands for money, for protections, for anything that he could think of. By the end, the government had agreed to provide him with a heaping helping of cash (enough to buy a house and help him live a comfortable life for the next twenty-or-so odd years), government provided medical insurance (complete coverage for the rest of his life), and a full ride scholarship for any college he wanted to go to.

Suffice to say he had rung that towel dry of anything he could ask of it. He knew that those government employees wished nothing but the worst for him, but he was satisfied with what he got, and he happily signed the fifth NDA they provided him with, flourishing his signature with relish.

Then, he became even more wrapped up in the whole thing when Dustin Henderson decided to raise a baby Demogorgon in his basement. A lot happened in those forty-eight hours, but the main one was that he got attached to the little shits, so he told them in no uncertain terms that they were not to sign anything before he looked the paperwork over.

They scoffed, rolled their eyes, but ultimately agreed. It was a very amusing few days, to say the least. The government agents (the same ones as last time) showed up with their giant stacks of paper, and came face to face with Steven Elias Harrington, and he could just see them die a little bit inside. He could practically hear what remained of their souls wither to dust.

And again, he forced them to sit as he read through every NDA, taking notes, scoffing, humming, and overall being a nuisance to them and their time. Then, he got the kids' attentions (as their eyes started to glaze over after minute thirty) and began his process.

The looks of pure awe, too, would be treasured for a very long time as he got their college tuitions paid for, government-provided medical insurance for the rest of their lives, and of course a big fat pile of cash ready for when they would turn seventeen years old. Each of them had enough money lined up for them that they wouldn't have to worry about anything until maybe their late fifties to early sixties if they were bad with their money.

And of course, he got himself another big pile of cash and access to the best lawyers in the United States if he would ever have need of it.

After that, he shouldn't have been surprised when everyone came to him for help post-Battle of Starcourt (dubbed by Dustin, of course). This time, he took two solid weeks pushing and pulling Uncle Sam in this direction and that to make sure everyone got what they needed. (Another fat stack of cash for everyone, legal protection for whatever they'd need it for, and a cover story that made everyone look the best that they possibly could. He also got college payment for Robin, since she wasn't there the first time, as well as the same medical insurance he got everyone else). Those government employees looked at Steve like he was the devil himself.

"You kinda are," Robin told him one day, after Steve recounted the specifics. "I mean, you are bleeding the government dry."

He gave her a grin. "Absolutely, I am."

Then, he and his merry band of misfits saved the world, stopping the Upside Down for good. The same government goons showed up, and instead of doing what they tried to do the previous time, they just came to Steve with all of the NDAs, and asked in the most sarcastically professional voice imaginable, "Are these up to your standers, Mr. Harrington?"

He gave his charming, King Steve smile and told them that he'd read it over. In the hospital room that held Max and Eddie, Steve pulled up a table and allowed everyone to watch as he flipped page after page, noting down the loophole phrases and weak protections, and every single trap meant to put them into a worse-off position and he threw it in the government's faces.

In return, he forced everything his heart could imagine out of them.

Another giant hunk of change for each of them.

Eddie Munson free of all charges, effective immediately

Government-provided medical insurance for Eddie Munson for the rest of his long, long life

A cover story so beautiful, so concrete that it got even the most closed minded to look at Steve's People and call them heroes.

A house for Eddie and his Uncle Wayne

"I hope I never see your face ever again," the man told Steve, forgoing all niceties at that point. "You're going to burn in hell."

"I'll save you both a seat," he told him with his sweetest, most charming smile.

The government agents left, and in their wake, Eddie Munson looked at him like he hung the sun, moon, and stars in the sky.

"Wow," was all the metalhead was able to get out for a while. "Just wow."

Robin glanced between Steve and Eddie, leaned into his side and quietly sang, "The lovers, the dreamers, and me."

Now on AO3

[steddielations]

just thinking about eddie. he's sooo loud and opinionated and obnoxious and an asshole sometimes and he was pissed off that a national magazine was demonizing him and his friends for playing DND, so he went on a whole hater rant about it. thinking about how he's also confident and charismatic and protective and secretly sweet, and according to dustin, he was the only one that was nice to them when they started high school, and eddie's band is also outcasts that he took in and gave them all a place to belong and he was happy when hellfire club beat his campaign. and when erica stood up to him, he shook her hand and had no problem giving her props and bowing to her. he wasn't even friends with chrissy but he let her see through the 'mean and scary' image and goofed off to make her feel better and did everything just to try and help her.

when he was scared out of his mind, he pushed steve against a wall but couldn't actually hurt him and admitted his assumptions about steve were wrong and took the time to tell him he's a good dude. in the field when they're all preparing for impending doom, eddie played around with dustin and told him never to change and gave him a subtle little goodbye and a nice last moment because he knew he wasn't running away this time. he cut the rope to try and keep dustin out of harm's way while he sacrificed himself for a town full of people that wanted him dead, but he died in dustin's arms anyway and used his last words to tell him he loved him. and eddie, who didn't want to be like his dad, whose uncle loved him and knew that violence wasn't in his nature, is only going to be remembered for doing things that he was never capable of. just thinking.

[dynamic-power]

The four of them are sitting in Robin's living room watching a movie when Robin's mom pops her head in and says that the pizza had arrived. Steve and Robin stand from the couch immediately, pushing and shoving at each other to get to the kitchen first. Nancy and Eddie stay behind, heads tilted together as they talk and giggle in hushed tones.

By the time Nance and Ed have made it to the kitchen, Robin and Steve have made it back to the couch. Robin's mom joins them after a moment, sitting in one of the chairs they've pulled in from the dining table to seat all five of them.

As Robin reaches over to try and pluck a piece of pepperoni from Steve's pizza, Steve catches Robin's mom watching them with a fond smile and twinkling eyes.

Steve knows that look. That's the look of a mother who thinks Steve is the perfect boyfriend to their daughter.

He spots a flash of curls before the couch sinks down beside him. He can divert Robin's mom's attention and show her that he and Robin really are just friends. Nancy won't mind. She'll understand and play along, so he lets his hand drift out to grip her thigh. "Hey, baby, do you think -"

Only his palm doesn't land on the cotton of Nancy's skirt. It touches rough denim instead.

He should snatch his hand back, should apologize and explain, but as his eyes meet the wide, startled gaze of Eddie, he freezes.

Eddie's eyes flash up to Robin, then to her mom, and Steve realizes that Eddie has understood. A warm palm slides onto his and dexterous fingers flip his hand over and twine with his own. "Think what, sweetheart?"

Gooseflesh rushes up his arm as Eddie's rough thumb begins to stroke his hand, and he swallows down a potentially embarrassing noise. "Um. Do you think your uncle would mind if you stayed with me tonight?"

Eddie smiles at him, wide and bright and disarming. "No, I don't think he'd mind. Parents out of town again?"

Robin's mom has diverted her gaze back to the TV, but Robin and Nancy are now staring at them with wide eyes. He ignores them. "Yeah."

"Big, spooky house too much for you?" Before Steve can reply, Eddie shifts closer to him and settles against Steve's side. "I'll protect you, sweetheart."

They watch the rest of the movie that way. Steve finds it a little odd to finish eating using his wrong hand, but for some reason, he can't bring himself to let go of Eddie.

[sidekick-hero]

(steddie | 483 words | teen | tags: childhood friends | @steddiemicrofic prompt "stuff")

Steve is seven when he runs away from home.

It's the end of his first year at Hawkins Elementary. His report card says his reading is below grade level and that he needs to improve over the summer. Steve doesn't mind practicing reading, but he's afraid his parents will be angry.

So he packs his little backpack and leaves. His little legs carry him through the woods behind the Harrington estate. The sun is still warm and bright, but soon it gets dark in the dense woods and Steve starts to feel scared. What if there are bears? He saw some on the Nature Channel; they could eat him in one giant bite.

Or worse, what if there are monsters?

Whimpering, his legs speed up until he almost runs.

He barrels into a boy playing at the edge of the woods, both of them falling to the ground with a loud oomph.

"What did you do that for?" the boy demands, looking at Steve with big brown eyes.

"I didn't mean to. I was running from the monsters."

"Monsters?" the boy asks in alarm. "Where?"

Steve points behind him. "In the woods. They would have eaten me!"

They both scramble to their feet and look to where Steve came from.

There are no monsters, but they agree that this doesn't mean anything. Monsters are sneaky.

"Wanna go to my place and play?" The boy suddenly asks Steve. "There are no monsters, just Wayne. He's, like, super nice."

Steve looks at the boy's dark, unruly curls that would make his mother huff, and thinks he likes how wild they look.

"Yeah," he agrees, and then, remembering his manners, holds out his hand. "I'm Steve."

Eddie looks doubtful, but takes it. "I'm Eddie," he says, pumping Steve's hand exaggeratedly, which makes Steve giggle.

They play for hours until Eddie's uncle, who is super nice, asks him when his parents are picking him up. It doesn't take much nudging to get Steve to spill the beans. Wayne assures him his parents won't be mad and that they are probably worried sick.

When he leaves Eddie's room to call them, Steve looks at his new friend with sad eyes.

"I don't wanna go. What if the monsters catch me?"

Eddie looks back at him with equally sad eyes but then straightens his little shoulders and picks up a stuffed dragon.

"You can have Sir Lancelot. He protects me from bad dreams; he can protect you from monsters."

They hug for a long time as Steve's parents arrive to take him home, Sir Lancelot safely in Steve's arms.

Years later, Eddie wakes up in a hospital bed to find Sir Lancelot lying on his chest, watching over him, while Steve sleeps in a chair next to him.

Protected by his dragon and his knight in shining armor, he closes his eyes and lets sleep take over once more.

[afewproblems]

and there you go hurtin' me so good again with the continuation of your cheating!Eddie steddie fic.. thank you! <3

Based on Part One, and this Ask here,

I was chatting with @samcoxramblings yesterday about this and I think maybe there should be some Steve POV, as a treat.

If Steve thought about the last few weeks of his life alongside every other instant of sorrow and pain he'd experienced, his relationship with Nancy, the Upside Down, the death of Barb, his parents, he'd say he should be used to this sort of thing by now.

But perhaps he'd been spoiled.

He'd had more than twenty years of happiness, contentedness, with Eddie and their life together. He'd relaxed too much, and here was the other shoe crashing down.

The home phone line in their apartment has been ringing off the hook, reporters have been trying to get ahold of him to see his side of things, leaving messages and one bold enough to come to their apartment leaves a letter taped to their door.

Steve disconnectes the phone and installs another lock after that.

And speaking of letters, there have been a mix delivered to their shared PO Box, some in support of Steve, sympathetic to the situation, others are ecstatic --seeing it as their chance to wedge their way into his marriage just like the last person, that they've always hated Steve and can't wait to see him gone.

He only reads a few letters before letting them pile up on the side table by the door.

All because of that stupid photo.

There was no discernable face in the photo, or photos, that ended up online.

Just Eddie talking animatedly to someone facing away from the camera view. It pieces together the evening, a meet cute, a conversation, walking out of the bar together, and a passionate kiss before getting into a taxi.

Eddie confirms it, and it's like his heart breaks in two.

There are a million questions rattling around in his head.

How many times has this happened? How long has Eddie been lying to him, was this a one time thing or have they been secretly meeting one another for multiple tours? Does the band know? Have they been lying to his face as well?

Steve feels as though he's been on autopilot, walking around in a fog while at home, and mechanically moving through his lesson plans while at school.

To make matters worse, his principal calls him at home after the news breaks.

"Steve, how are you doing? I'm so sorry to hear," she tells him solemnly over the line, "if there is anything we can do please let us know".

"Thank you Liz, I, I really appreciate it," Steve hums, his voice much more level than it has been in awhile, "I'll take Spring break to finish up my marking and get my head on straight before we're back--"

"Steve, I'm sorry, I think," she hesitates, Steve can hear her pace around her office, her signature kitten heels click against the tiled floor, "I think it would be best if you take a little longer than Spring Break".

He feels his stomach drop into his shoes, no, no, they can't...

"What, what are you talking about, are you--"

"No, no, of course not," her voice shrill, panicked and tinny, over the line as she backpeddles, "no, we just think it would be better for you and the kids if you took some time away. We have a sub lined up and this wouldn't be permanent, just until it dies down".

"You can't be serious Liz, come on, their finals are coming up at the end of the month and I've never let my personal life affect my job before and I'm not about to start now, I don't need a leave of absence, I'm fine," he lies.

It has been difficult to get through class, to ignore the whispers from the kids during break or while they work in groups. He can feel curious eyes follow him in between the desks as he walks around for questions.

Liz sighs into the line and all at once knows the conversation is over, that it was never a conversation to begin with.

"Look, you're the best department head we've had in a long time Steve, and I want you back, fresh, for the kids. I can't imagine how you're feeling right now and I know this isn't what you wanted but I think it will be for the best".

"How long?" Steve manages to say, so softly that Liz asks him to repeat himself.

"Excluding the break, I'll say three weeks, so you can be back to see them through their exams," she sighs again, "the school year isn't over yet Steve, you'll still have lots of time with them".

Steve raises a shaking hand to his hair, running his fingers through it from root to tip. It could be good to take that time, Robin had asked him if he would when they initially spoke. It could give him a chance to think about what to do.

But, at this point, he worries if he stops moving, if he slows down, he won't be able to stop the grief he can feel, knocking at his window.

"Okay, okay, Liz, I'll take some time".

***

Steve finishes his marking in record time, but perhaps it's easy when one doesn't sleep.

He reorganizes the pantry twice, deep cleans all the storage closets, he throws every piece of clothing in the house into the laundry, including Eddie's, drops off the dry cleaning, and washes the walls.

He moves the furniture around and finds himself looking at rentable scaffolding to see about finally starting that painting project he's been thinking about.

It's only Wednesday.

One by one his family begin to reach out as the news begins to circulate more prominently in the regular entertainment news outlets. Hopper and Joyce call, Joyce asks Steve if he wants to come back to Hawkins for a bit, that their door is always open for him, just as it was when he was in his twenties. Hopper tells him all Steve needs to do is give him the word and he'll be in Chicago with a shovel, no questions asked.

Steve thanks Joyce and gives Hopper an emphatic, 'NO,' but he appreciates them all the same.

Dustin innocently brings up that he'll be in Chicago for a few days the following week, that Robin offered Steve's guest room to him, and Steve finds himself smiling while shaking his head at the co-conspirators.

All of the kids call at least once, but they are busy themselves, none of them are on a leave of absence after all, he thinks bitterly to himself.

Thursday afternoon there's a knock at his door, Steve is in the middle of changing out the old washer from the kitchen sink -finally getting around to fixing the small leak, he freezes at the sound.

He's not expecting anyone and even though he and Robin are nearly joined at the hip she still has the decency to call before showing up at his door.

Steve climbs out from under the sink and wipes his hands on the nearest towel before slowly walking towards the door. All the locks are still bolted from the night before, so he feels safer leaning in to peer through the peephole.

It's Wayne?

Steve feels his heart begin to race, what on earth was Wayne doing here? Was Eddie with him? Corroded Coffin was still on tour, he couldn't be.

He hazards another glance through the peephole but he can't tell if there is anyone else in the hall.

Wayne knocks again making Steve jump at the sudden noise.

Steve breathes in deeply through his nose and out through his mouth once, twice, before he unlocks both bolts and the chain with shaking hands, he opens the door a fraction.

"Wayne? What are you doing here?" Steve says softly, he steps aside to let the man through.

"I came to check on you," Wayne says after a beat, he wipes his feet on the second mat inside and shrugs off his red windbreaker. Steve tries to take the jacket to hang it up but raises his hands in surrender as Wayne waves him off and opens the closet to hang it up himself.

Steve takes him into the kitchen and puts on a pot of coffee, they never did invest in one of those single serve coffee machines, Eddie drank so much coffee when he was home that it made no sense and, 'brewed coffee just tates better Stevie'.

Steve shakes the memory away and grabs two mugs from the cupboard, "Just sugar right?"

He reaches for the empty sugar bowl as Wayne nods, he hovers awkwardly as Steve flits around the kitchen.

Steve grabs the sugar from their pantry and fills up the bowl before placing it on the table with a spoon.

"So," Steve sighs as he leans against the counter next to the coffee maker, it hisses and bubbles filling the air with the smell of brewing coffee, "Eddie put you up to this, huh?"

Wayne frowns but nods, "Call it the first good decision that dumb-ass has made in the last few weeks," he scratches the graying scruff on his cheeks and steps closer, "how are you doing son?

Steve wants to tell him about how he hasn't let himself even think about the future. How he told Eddie he couldn't come home yet, how he's so achingly lonely despite the number of people that have reached out. How he doesn't want to think about a life without Eddie, but that he also can't imagine being in the same room as him for more that a minute without wanting to just scream at him.

How, Steve firmly believed that he would lose the man standing in his doorway, how his friendship with Gareth and Chrissy would inevitably fracture over Eddie, and once again Steve would be alone, picking up the pieces of his life to start again.

Instead, he manages to say, "I'm so glad you're here," before stepping into Wayne's arms, and allowing himself to be held as he finally, finally cries.

Wayne's arms come around him firmly, he reaches one hand up to cradle Steve's head while the other rubs his back, "its okay son, I gotcha," he whispers as Steves shoulders shake and his chest stutters.

"I gotcha".

[stevesbipanic]

@steddieangstyaugust Day 15: Childhood

"Hi!"

A voice squeaks beside Eddie who's spent the last hour constructing the best sandcastle ever. He glances to the side and sees another boy, windswept brown hair and sunburnt cheeks.

"Hello?"

"Do you want to play mermaids with me?" The small boy asked, his smile gummy with lost teeth.

"No, I'm building a sandcastle for my knights," Eddie replies pointing to the collection of sticks he'd stuck in the ground.

"Oh," the boy looked sad and started to turn away.

"But we could use a mermaid to protect us, do you have any powers?"

The boy's eyes lit up again, "Yes! I can control water cause my tail is bright blue and I can also transform so I can sometimes have legs." Eddie giggled at the boy's ramblings.

"Well welcome..."

"Steve!"

"Welcome Stevie to Castle Eddie."

The boy's played by the crashing waves until sundown. "Will you be here tomorrow?" Steve asked. Eddie shook his head, "Dad says we gotta keep moving tomorrow."

"Here, have this then so you won't forget me." Steve pulls a thread out from his shirt, a dark red guitar pick was attached. "My uncle gave it to me but I don't really like playing guitar, I like piano better."

"Dude this is so cool, thank you, I'll never forget you, Stevie."

Eddie looked so pale in the hospital bed, a steady beep from the monitor beside him. Steve fiddled with the guitar pick on his neck, gently holding his hand.

"Come back to me, Eds, it took me so long to find you don't leave me alone again." Steve took a shaky breath, "I want to see you play guitar, and take you to the beach again, we can build sandcastles and swim like mermaids just please don't leave me."

The fingers in his hand twitched.

"I want my tail to be red and black."

[steddieasitgoes]

Eddie, who, as a child, struggled with making decisions, so Wayne gifted him a Magic 8 ball that he could turn to for guidance. Eddie spends most of his childhood carrying around the Magic 8 Ball, using it to decide between mac and cheese (ask again later) or chicken strips (signs point to yes) at lunch or whether he should go talk to the new kid Gareth (without a doubt). 

Eddie slowly starts to make his own decisions but keeps onto the Magic 8 Ball for important, life-changing questions. He asks if he should drop out of school after failing his first senior year (my reply is no) and then again if he should repeat said senior year (it is decidedly so). He even asks if he should start working for Reefer Rick (reply hazy, try again) -- it’s the one time he chose to ignore the ball’s advice. 

Unfortunately, Eddie doesn’t have his Magic 8 Ball on him when the witch hunt starts. He wishes he could ask it if all this hiding and running is going to be worth it. But for once, Eddie has to rely on his own decisions. So he keeps going. Lets Dustin and his friends take him under their wing and protect him. Has to trust that Nancy’s plan is going to work and that Steve is going to make Vecna pay when he nods his head at his request. 

It’s hard trusting other people without having something to double check the universe’s whims on, but he has no choice. 

When he survives and gets sent to the hospital, the Magic 8 Ball is one of the first thing he asks Uncle Wayne to bring him from home. The first question he asks: was any of it real (without a doubt). Oh, how he wishes it was all a dream.

The second question he asks later when he’s all alone: will I get over my crush on Steve (very doubtful). Not pleased with the answer, Eddie pushes the Magic 8 Ball aside and rolls his eyes. What does it know anyway? 

As his recovery continues, Eddie comes to rely on his Magic 8 Ball less and less because he has a group of friends around him who are there to offer their guidance. The Magic 8 ball stays perched on the small hospital table though, always in reach if he needs it. 

He nearly tells Wayne to take it home one night, but he’s glad he doesn’t because in the morning he wakes to find Steve shaking the ball in his hands. 

“Didn’t strike you as a Magic 8 ball kind of guy, Harrington,” Eddie teases, voice thick with sleep and whatever drugs are still coursing through his body. 

“M’not usually, but I needed a little guidance with this question.” 

“Oh yeah? And what does the magic ball say?” 

“It just says yes.”

"Ah, the most definitive of Magic 8 Ball answers.” 

“So I should trust it then?” 

“That depends,” Eddie says, stretching out on the uncomfortable hospital bed. “What did you ask it?”

"I asked it if I could kiss you.” 

Without thinking, Eddie sits up and snatches the Magic 8 Ball from Steve’s hands. He ducks his head, closes his eyes, and mouths his question before violently shaking the Magic 8 Ball. 

It is certain.

“What did you ask it?” Steve asks, stepping closer to Eddie’s hospital bed.

“If you were being serious.” 

“And? What did it say?” 

Eddie turns the Magic 8 Ball so Steve can see the little triangle floating. When he looks up, he sees Steve barely containing the smile breaking out on his face. 

“Guess you better kiss me, Harrington,” Eddie teases. “Don’t want to upset the Magic 8 Ball gods.”

[deliciousangelfestival]

The Imperfect Couple - 15

Character: politician!Bucky x ex-wife!reader

Summary: A separated couple must pretend to be happily married while the husband runs for Vice President, dealing with old issues and political pressures during his election campaign.

Warning: The couple's arguments could be triggering.

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist || If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee on Ko-fi 🙏🏻

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

“Seems like you're declaring war on me,” Bucky said, his voice steady but his eyes narrowing slightly.

“Does it sound like that? Forgive me.” Steve set the golf club down, a smirk playing on his lips. “What I meant is, we have to be aware of everything. We're this close to winning.”

“I agree.” Bucky replied, his expression calm, though his mind churned with unspoken thoughts.

“This is why I trust you.” Steve clapped him on the shoulder. “Remember, we're playing in the highest league now.”

Steve paused before adding casually, “By the way, my son wants to visit Nate. Is that okay with you?”

“I'll let my wife and Nate know,” Bucky responded, his voice neutral, though he felt a flicker of unease.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

When Bucky got home, he saw you sitting cross-legged on the floor with Nate, working on a puzzle together. You both seemed relaxed, unaware of the weight he carried from the conversation with Steve. He walked over, his movements deliberate, and knelt beside Nate.

“Nate, buddy, can you go to your room for a bit? I need to talk to your aunt,” Bucky said gently, placing a hand on Nate’s shoulder.

Nate, always obedient, nodded. “Okay, Uncle Bucky,” he said before scooping up a few puzzle pieces and heading inside.

Once it was just the two of you, you glanced at Bucky and noticed his exhausted expression. He looked like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.

“What? Did something worse just hit you?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

Bucky took a breath, his jaw tightening. “Did you just involve Ian?” His tone was calm, but his eyes betrayed his frustration.

You widened your eyes, momentarily caught off guard by the question. That single look was enough for him to sigh deeply, running a hand through his hair. “I…” His hands clenched into fists momentarily. He wanted to be angry, knowing full well this would put you on Steve’s radar.

“Just… tell Ian to slow down,” Bucky muttered, clearly uneasy.

“I can’t,” you said softly but firmly. “The way Ian works is far more efficient than anything I could do.”

Bucky rubbed his temples, his frustration mounting. “Then I hope God protects him.”

“Bucky…” you stepped closer, your voice serious. “Be honest with me. Is he in danger?”

Bucky looked down, his hands braced on the counter, his shoulders tense. “Steve just gave me a warning. It won’t matter to him if there’s blood on his hands.”

Your heart dropped. ‘Fuck,’ you thought as panic began to bubble inside. You immediately grabbed your phone and dialed Ian, but there was no answer. Frustration and fear mingled in your chest as you quickly texted him instead: Be careful. Eyes and ears everywhere.

You glanced at Bucky, your stomach twisting. “By the way, the Rogers twins want to come here to play with Nate,” Bucky added as if it were a casual comment, though his voice carried an edge.

“You allowed that?” you asked, the disbelief evident in your tone.

The mention of the twins unsettled you. Your mind flashed back to watching The Shining in secret with Tim, and how the twins in that movie had always given you the creeps. That eerie feeling wasn’t just from the film anymore—it was rooted in real life. You had learned the truth: William and Charles, Steve's sons, had a reputation for bullying other students. The thought of them around Nate made your skin crawl.

Would they be a good influence on Nate? You highly doubted it.

Bucky gave a tired shrug. “I can’t say no to the future president, right?”

You pressed your lips into a thin line, knowing there was little you could do to stop it. But one thing was clear—you would be keeping a very close eye on them when they came to visit.

🌸🌸🌸🌸

The twins arrived at the house, their faces lit up with matching grins, excitement practically radiating off them. Nate, catching sight of them, bolted to the door, his small body bouncing with joy.

"William! Charles!" Nate called out, bouncing on his toes as he welcomed them in. His innocent joy was palpable—he was simply happy to have people he knew coming to play with him.

"Hey, buddy," William said, ruffling Nate’s hair as they walked inside.

After a brief exchange, they settled in front of the game console, and soon, the twins had chosen a violent shooter game. The screen flickered with gunfire and explosions, the sound effects jarring in the otherwise quiet room. Nate, seated between them, initially watched in awe but quickly became uncomfortable.

His tiny hands shot up to cover his eyes, and he flinched with every loud noise, his body tense as he pressed himself into the couch. He covered his ears, trying to block out the unsettling sounds, but he didn’t say a word, not wanting to ruin the moment.

You watched from a distance, trying not to be the nosy adult. You wanted to give them space, but seeing Nate’s frightened reaction twisted something in your gut. Likewise, you couldn’t stand by anymore. Walking over to the boys, you kept your tone polite, but firm.

“Guys,” you said, your voice cutting through the sounds of the game, “is there another game that’s not as scary? Look, Nate’s getting scared.”

William glanced down at Nate, who was huddled close to him. “Oh, why didn’t you say something, buddy?” he said, patting Nate’s shoulder as if that would fix everything.

Charles sighed and turned off the violent game, switching to something more child-friendly. "Here, we’ve got a game for you, Nate." He scrolled through the options and selected a bright, colorful one with cartoon rabbits running a restaurant.

The second the screen changed, Nate’s face lit up. “Wow!” he exclaimed, his fear dissolving as he leaned forward, eager to play. The teenage boys, now seemingly patient, guided him through the simple controls, explaining how to serve food to the cartoon animals. You felt a wave of relief. Maybe—just maybe—the twins weren’t as bad as you had feared.

Later, the boys decided to go swimming. You sat on a poolside chair, keeping a close eye on Nate. He was wearing a floatie around his small frame, happily splashing in the shallow end while William and Charles horsed around further away.

Suddenly, your phone buzzed. It was Ian. "H...ell...o"

You stood up, checking the signal, which was terrible. Frowning, you moved toward the balcony. The pool was indoors, so you stepped outside, hoping for better reception.

“I just got your text,” Ian said when the call finally connected. His voice was rough, but you could hear his smirk through the line. “You know this isn’t going to stop me.”

“I’m serious, Ian,” you replied, leaning against the balcony rail. “Bucky told me directly. You’re in danger.”

A pause, and then Ian’s voice, low and almost teasing, came through. “Hmm… Guess where I am right now?”

You sighed, trying to play along. “London? Since you went home, right?”

“Nope. Paris. And I’ve found something—something lethal enough to kill Steve,” Ian said, his tone dark with implication.

Paris? You froze. Was this related to Hazel? Your heart pounded with a new surge of anxiety. “Ian, don’t—”

But before you could finish, you heard it. A splash—loud, frantic. You turned around, the blood draining from your face. In the water, you saw a small hand desperately reaching out, the floatie floating uselessly nearby. It was Nate.

Panic gripped you like a vice. “Nate!” you screamed, dropping your phone as you sprinted back inside.

Without hesitation, you dove into the pool, your body hitting the cold water like a shock to your system. Your hands reached for him, pulling Nate’s tiny, trembling body to the surface. His arms latched around your neck in a vice grip, coughing and sputtering as you lifted him from the water.

He gasped, burying his face against your shoulder, his small body shaking as he clung to you. “He…he can’t swim!” you snapped at the twins, your voice filled with raw anger.

William and Charles stood there on the edge of the pool, unfazed. “That’s why we were teaching him,” they answered in unison, their tone almost dismissive.

Nate let out a pained cough, his voice weak. “My nose hurts…” he whimpered, rubbing his face against your neck.

Your heart ached at the sight of him, vulnerable and hurt. Anger surged through you like a tidal wave, and you glared at the twins. You remembered that they both just watched while Nate was drowning. Without raising your voice, you pointed to the door, your finger shaking with fury. “Get out. Now.”

The command echoed in the room, sharp and unforgiving. William and Charles flinched, startled by the intensity in your voice. Without a word, they quickly grabbed their things, shooting one last glance at each other before rushing out the door.

You stayed in the pool, holding Nate close, your teeth gritted in anger and your heart still pounding. You knew then—those boys were never going to be allowed near Nate again. Not after this.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

The twins walked into the Roger household, their shoulders slumped, clearly sensing the storm waiting for them. Behind them, Peggy followed with a stern but composed expression. As they stepped further into the room, the tension was palpable—Steve stood there, arms crossed, his face hard as stone. He had heard everything from you, and his sons could feel his fury even before he said a word.

William and Charles instinctively moved closer to Peggy, seeking the safety of her presence as if she could shield them from the inevitable.

Peggy, sensing the mounting tension, stepped forward slightly, her voice calm but firm. “Steve, calm down. I will talk to them.”

Steve let out a frustrated sigh, his clenched jaw releasing only slightly. “I’m not going to yell,” he said through gritted teeth. “But I need to say something.”

He fixed his cold gaze on his sons. “Both of you will be homeschooled from now on.”

The twins’ faces fell in disbelief. “Dad, no!” William blurted, and Charles’ mouth hung open, too stunned to speak.

“I know,” Steve said, his voice quieter now, but there was no softness in it. “I know the main reason for your behavior is because your mother and I have been too busy for you. We never spent time together as a family.” His arms unfolded, and to their surprise, he pulled them into a hug. “So, homeschooling is the best option, isn’t it?” His tone sounded almost tender, but underneath it lay a cold warning.

William and Charles glanced at each other, then back at Peggy, silently pleading for her to intervene. But she didn’t. She stood still, her lips pressed tightly together, offering no rescue.

“Good children don’t question their parents,” Steve said, his voice dropping low. “You just say, ‘Yes, father.’”

The twins swallowed hard, a sinking feeling settling in their chests. “Yes, father,” they muttered in unison, their voices barely above a whisper. It felt as though their every move would now be monitored.

Steve’s lips curled into a smile, but it wasn’t warm—it was the smile of a man in control. “Good. Now, go back to your rooms.”

The boys moved quietly, retreating upstairs, the weight of Steve’s words heavy on their shoulders.

Once they were out of sight, Steve’s smile faded. He turned toward Peggy, his tone biting. “This is why I never wanted to send them to boarding school in the first place. They needed parental guidance, not strict school rules.”

Peggy’s eyes narrowed, a tired look crossing her face. “Don’t start again, Steve. That decision was made by my father.”

Steve’s expression darkened at the mention of her father. His voice dripped with bitterness. “Oh yeah, him. I almost forgot. I’m glad he’s dead.”

Peggy’s face tensed, a flare of anger sparking in her eyes. “When will you stop badmouthing my father?”

Steve’s cold stare met hers. “Never.”

Steve had lived a life bound by duty, his role in the military shaping every part of him. He was a good soldier—respected, disciplined, and obedient. But despite his loyalty, promotions came slowly. His lack of a powerful family background meant he was always overlooked by those with better connections. Essentially, Steve was an orphan—without anyone to vouch for him, he was left behind.

He knew how the system worked. If you didn’t have the right name, the right family, there was always a price to pay. And Steve had paid it, doing the dirty work of his superiors without question, sacrificing his principles just to keep his place. The worst part of it all was that his commanding officer, General Carter, was his father-in-law.

Every step of his career, Steve had been a puppet for the man who held both his professional and personal life in his hands. The weight of it bore down on him every day.

“Good soldiers don’t ask why,” General Carter always said this to him. “They just say, ‘Yes, sir.’”

"Yes, sir." Steve answer it like he's a robot.

At some point, Steve had everything he’d ever thought he wanted—marriage, a steady career, money, and status. On paper, he should have been happy. But he wasn’t. His life felt dull, empty, like the spark had been drained from it.

The day he realized the truth hit him like a punch in the gut. He wasn’t his own man—he was nothing more than a tool for his father-in-law, a puppet dancing to someone else’s tune.

That was the moment he had enough. The frustration, the years of silently obeying, simmered into anger. He wanted to be the one in control. He was tired of taking orders—he wanted to be the one giving them.

Steve’s life had been dull for years, a constant routine of military duties, politics, and the weight of expectations. Until the day he met Hazel. She was much younger than him—vibrant, full of life—and he was supposed to give her advice, to help steer her back home. Julius and Caroline had asked him to help their daughter stop running away. But when Steve sat with Hazel and listened to her story, something shifted. Her reasons for running, the pressures she felt—her life mirrored his own struggles. For the first time in years, he felt empathy.

He told her, quietly, “If you ever need someone to talk to, you can find me.”

And from there, things changed. They grew closer, and eventually, more intimate. He knew it was wrong—cheating on his family, betraying his friends—but for the first time, Steve felt alive again. The numbness of his life vanished in her presence, replaced by something that burned, something real. And then came Nate, the baby born out of that connection, out of a love he hadn’t felt in years.

Steve’s thoughts snapped back to the present. His jaw clenched tightly as he faced Peggy. “Did you tell them to hurt Nate?”

Peggy stood her ground, her face a mix of frustration and cold calculation. “No,” she said flatly. “But they’re smart enough to figure out why their father cares so much about that kid, and why he’s always…” She hesitated, her lips curling into a thin smile. “Spending time with his little girlfriend. Maybe they’re just releasing their anger.”

Steve’s fists tightened until his knuckles turned white. “When I get into the White House, you won’t be coming with me.”

Peggy’s eyes narrowed, but she didn’t flinch. “And what then?” she said with a mocking tilt to her voice. “You think you’re going to put that girl in my place? Have you forgotten who you are? You were a beggar, crawling to my father for help.”

Steve’s eyes darkened, a dangerous calm settling over him. “And this beggar has crawled his way to victory,” he said slowly, his voice low but filled with menace. “You can act high and mighty because of me. Don’t forget that I can take it all away from you.” He stepped closer, his words laced with venom. “Remember how your family got their business permits? How they were saved from corruption charges and tax evasion? That was because of me.”

Peggy let out a scoff, her eyes filled with disdain. “You think you’re a king now?” She crossed her arms, shaking her head. “I actually pity her, you know. Because one day, she’ll feel exactly what I felt. You’ll never be satisfied, Steve. You’ll never have enough.”

She turned to leave, her hand on the door. Before stepping out, Peggy glanced back at him, her eyes filled with cold certainty. “Never.”

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

You sat beside Nate, your heart heavy as you watched his small chest rise and fall, his face flushed with fever. The doctor had just left, handing you a bottle of medicine. "Make sure he drinks this, and let him rest completely," he’d said before exchanging a few quiet words with Bucky and leaving the apartment.

Nate’s red, feverish face made your heart ache. He had been through so much in just a few hours. You gently wiped a damp cloth over his forehead as Bucky sat beside you, silent and tense.

"Never, ever let Nate be alone with them again," you said, your voice firm.

Bucky nodded, his expression serious. "I agree. And I’m sorry. I never thought they’d pull something like that."

“Don’t underestimate underage kids,” you warned, your voice sharp. “There are so many cases where perpetrators can’t be jailed because they’re underage.”

Bucky’s jaw tightened. "Noted. I won’t forget that."

A brief silence passed, then you asked, “Have you called Hazel?”

“I tried, but I couldn’t reach her. I called her assistant, though.”

You nodded, your mind still spinning. The memory of Nate sinking beneath the water haunted you, but there was something else gnawing at you—you hadn’t finished your conversation with Ian.

Excusing yourself, you left the room and grabbed your phone, your stomach dropping when you noticed the cracked screen from when you’d dropped it before diving into the pool.

You dialed Ian’s number, your fingers trembling as you pressed it to your ear. The first ring echoed, unanswered. Your heart pounded faster. The second ring—nothing. A cold sense of unease crept into your chest. Why wasn’t he answering?

On the third try, the ringing stopped abruptly, and you exhaled in relief. “Hello? Ian?” you asked quickly, your voice tight with worry.

There was a pause on the other end, then a voice you didn’t expect—familiar, but not Ian’s.

“Y/N?”

You froze, confusion flooding your mind. “Hazel? Why are you answering Ian’s phone?” Panic started to rise inside you, the pieces beginning to fall into place. Ian had gone to Paris. He had found something—something connected to Hazel and Steve.

“He… he can’t answer it,” Hazel whispered, her voice breaking.

Your breath caught in your throat, a chill racing down your spine. “Why?” The word came out in a shaky breath.

There was a long silence before Hazel finally spoke, her words hitting you like a sledgehammer.

“Because he’s dead.”

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[mars-the-witch]

I am in tears

this love came back to me

polaroids over the years 🎸

Bonus: About You's cover art.

[flowercrowngods]

who did this to you. part 3

🤍🌷 read part 1 here | read part 2 here pre-s4, steve whump, protective (but scared) eddie. now with robin!

The number rings in his head, echoing off the inside of his skull and sinking lower and lower until his heart strings join the symphony that leaves him shaking as the memory of Harrington’s slurred voice is drowned out by the dial tone that feels harrowingly like a flatline right now. 

Said I’ll go blind. Or deaf. Or just… die.

Eddie doesn’t really feel like his body belongs to him anymore, or like there’s anything left inside him other than panic and fear and that stupid, stupid shaking that he can’t suppress even as he bites his knuckles. Hard. 

The pain helps a little not to startle too much when the dial tone stops and a female voice begins speaking to him. Still he almost drops the phone, cursing under his breath as he pulls his hair to collect himself and get his voice to work. 

“H— Hi, hello, Mrs Buckley? This is, uh. I. I’m. A friend of Robin’s, could you, uh—“ 

“Oh, of course, dear,” the woman says, and Eddie feels his eyes beginning to prick with how nice she sounds even through the phone. 

Does she know Steve, too? Would she worry if she knew? Would she curse Eddie for not taking him to the hospital right away? Would she blame him if anything happened? 

“I’m sorry? What did you say your name was?” she asks, repeating herself by the sound of it. 

He blanks, for a whole five seconds, before he spots a note stuck to the fridge saying Don’t forget to eat, Eddie :-)

“Eddie,” he croaks. “Uh, Eddie Munson.”

“Alright, Eddie Munson, I’ll see if I can grab Robin for you. You have a good day, dear, yes?” 

No. “Thanks.” 

The hand clenched in his hair pulls tighter and tighter until the tears fall and he can pretend it’s from pain and not from— whatever the fuck is happening. 

He waits, phone pressed to his ear with a kind of desperation he’s never really felt, and never wants to feel again. He doesn’t even know what to tell Robin; what to say. It’s not like they ever hang out or have anything to say to each other, so why would she— 

“Munson?” Robin’s voice appears on the other end, a little too loud for Eddie’s certain state, and he does drop the phone this time, scrambling to catch it and only making the situation worse as it dangles by his knees. 

He drops to the floor, pulling his knees to his chest and reaching for the phone again. 

“Hi.” 

“What do you want? How’d you even get this number? I swear, if you—“ 

“It’s Blue. I mean, Steve. Harrington.” 

That shuts her right up, and Eddie clenches his eyes shut for a moment, hoping to keep the tremor out of his voice if only he takes a moment to breathe. 

The moment stretches. And Robin’s voice is wary and quiet when she speaks again. 

“What about Steve.” 

Eddie rubs his face, leaving more dirt and grime to fill the tear tracks, and clenches his fist before his mouth. 

“Eddie,” Robin demands, dangerous now. Nothing left of the rambling, bubbling mess he knows her to be on the school hallways. “What. About. Steve.” 

“He… He’s hurt.” 

There’s a bit of a commotion on the other end, before Robin declares, “I’m coming over. You tell me everything.” 

“You— I mean, he’s in the hospital with my uncle, so—“ 

“I am. Coming. Over,” she says, enunciating every word as though she were making a threat. Maybe she is. But the certainty in her voice helps a little, anchors him the same way that Wayne’s calmness did. “And you tell me everything.” 

Eddie finds himself nodding along, knowing intuitively that there is nothing that could stop her now. Knowing that he doesn’t want to stop her. 

“‘Kay.” It’s a pathetic little sound, all choked up and tiny. She doesn’t comment on it. 

One second he hears her determined exhale, the next she’s hung up on him and Eddie is greeted by the flatline again. He lets out a shuddering breath and leans his head back against the wall. 

Breathing is hard again, but it’s all he has to do now, all that’s left to do, so he focuses. Inhale. Hold. Exhale. Hold. His lungs are burning and there’s something wrong about the way he pulls in air and keeps it there, desperately latching onto it until the very last second, his exhales more of a gasping cough than calm and controlled. 

It takes a while. Longer than it should. But with Harrington’s blood still on his hands, with his heartbeat in his ears so loud he can’t even hear the words Wayne used to say about breathing in through the mouth or the nose or… or something, he— 

He’s fine. He’s home. Wayne’s got Blue, and Buckley is on her way, and… He’s fine. 

People don’t just die. 

They don’t. 

He’s fine. 

Eventually, Eddie manages to breathe steadily, the air no longer shuddering and his hands no longer shaking. It’s stupid, really, being so worked up over someone he doesn’t even really know. Sure, everyone knows Steve fucking Harrington, and everyone sees Steve fucking Harrington — whether they want it or not. He has a way of drawing eyes toward him even if all he does is walk the halls with his dorky smile and that stupidly charming swagger he’s got going on. Always matching his shoes to his outfit.

Eddie can relate.

Always reaching out to touch the person he’s talking to; clapping their back or shoulder, lightly shoving them in jest, ruffling their hair or chasing them through the halls, moving and holding himself like teenage angst can’t reach him. Like he belongs wherever he goes. Like he’s so, so comfortable in his own skin. Like the clothes he wears aren’t armour but just a part of him; a means of self-expression. 

Again, Eddie can relate. He can relate to all of this. 

It’s almost like the two of them aren’t so different after all. Just going about it differently. 

And now he’s… Bleeding. Slurring his speech. Wheezing his breath. And Eddie feels protective. Eddie feels responsible. Like he should be there, like he should get to know more about him. About Steve. About Blue. 

But he can’t. And he won’t. So he gets up with a groan that expresses his frustration and the need to make a sound, to fight the oppressive silence that only encourages his thoughts to run in obsessive little circles, and he hangs up the phone that’s been dangling beside him all this time. 

He needs a smoke. 

He needs a smoke and a blunt and a drink and for this day to be over and for time to revert and to leave him out of whatever business he stumbled into by opening the door to the boathouse and, apparently, Steve Harrington’s life. 

But unfortunately, the universe doesn’t seem to care about what he needs, because just as he steps outside and goes to light his cig, he catches sight of a harried looking Robin Buckley, standing on the pedals of her bike as she kicks them, her hair blowing in the wind to reveal a frown between her brows. A wave of unease overcomes Eddie, an unease he can’t really place. Maybe it’s the set of her jaw, or the tension in her shoulders, or maybe it’s the worry and anger she exudes. 

It never occurred to him before that Robin Buckley might not be a person you’d want to set off. And not because of her uncontrollable rambles. 

“Munson!” she calls over, carelessly dropping her bike in the driveway and stalking toward him. 

Almost as if summoning a shield, Eddie does light the cigarette. Pretends like the smoke can protect him. 

She doesn’t stop at the foot of the steps, though, climbs them in two leaps and gets all up in his space with that unwavering look of determination — so unwavering, in fact, that it almost looks like wrath. Cold. Eddie wants to shrink away from it, not at all daring to wonder what could make her look like that upon hearing that Steve’s hurt. 

I don’t wanna die, Munson. I never… I didn’t. With the monsters or the torture.

But those are the words of a semi-conscious teenage boy beat to a pulp, they can’t— There’s no way. Eddie misheard him, or Steve was talking about some kind of inside joke, using the wrong terminology with the wrong guy. It happens. It happens when you’re out of it, really! The shit he’s said when he was shot up, canned up, all strung out and high as a kite… He’d be talking of monsters, too, and mean some benign shit. 

But the way Harrington looked, none of that was benign. The bruising all over his face, the blood still dripping from the wound by his temple or his nose, the way he held himself, breath rattling in his lungs, or— 

“Hey!” Buckley demands his attention, giving him a light shove; just enough to catch his attention, really, and just what he needed to snap out of it. Still the smoke hits his lungs wrong and he coughs up a lung, further cementing his role of the pathetic little guy today. 

“Hey,” he says lamely, his voice still croaking as he crushes the half-smoked cigarette under his boot. “Sorry.” He doesn’t know for what. But it feels appropriate. 

She shakes her head, rolling her eyes at him as she crosses her arms in front of her chest. 

“Tell me,” she says at last, and even though there is a tremor in her voice, she sounds nothing short of demanding. “I want the whole story, and I want it now.” 

And so he does. He tells her everything, bidding her inside because he needs the relative safety of the trailer even though the air in here is stuffy and still faintly smells blue. He pours them both some coffee and some tea, because asking what she wants doesn’t feel right in the middle of telling her how he found her supposed best friend beat to shit in the boathouse he went to to forget about the world for a while. 

She stills as she listens to him, staring ahead into the middle distance somewhere beneath the floor and the walls, her hands wrapped around the steaming mug of coffee. Eddie stumbles over his words a lot, unsettled by her stillness, her lack of reaction. She doesn’t even react to his fuck-ups. People usually do.

He wants to ask. Where are you right now? What have you seen? What’s on your mind? What the fuck is happening?

But he doesn’t ask, instead he tells her more about Steve. About how he seemed to forget where he was. About the pain he was in. About the smiles nonetheless. The way he reassured Eddie. 

That one finally gets a choked little huff from her, somewhere between a sob and a laugh. 

“Yeah, that sounds like him alright. He’s such a dingus.” 

There is so much affection in her voice as she says it that Eddie can’t help but smile into his mug. 

“Dingus?” he asks, hoping for some lightness, hoping to keep it. 

But the light fades, and her eyes get distant again. Eddie wants to kick himself. 

“Just a stupid little nickname. An insult, really.”

“Oh.” He doesn’t know what to do with that. If he should ask more or if he should say that he has a feeling Steve might appreciate stupid little nicknames. Especially if they’re unique. Especially if they’re for him. But what right does he have to say that now? What knowledge does he have about Steve Harrington that Robin doesn’t? 

So he bites his tongue and drinks his coffee, cursing the silence that falls over them as Robin mirrors him, albeit slow and stilted, like she doesn’t know what to do either. Or where to put her limbs. 

“Wayne’s got him now. I took him here, after the boathouse, because I didn’t know what to do. He said he didn’t want the hospital, said there’s…” He trails off. 

Robin looks at him, her eyes wary but alert. “Said there’s what?” 

It’s stupid. Don’t say it. 

“Eddie?” 

With a sigh, he puts his mug on the counter and stuffs his hands into his pockets. “He said there’s monsters. In the hospital, I mean. He said that.”

Instead of scoffing or at least frowning, Robin clenches her jaw and nods imperceptibly, her eyes going distant again. Eddie blinks, the urge to just fucking ask overcoming him again, but with every passing second he realises that he doesn’t actually want to ask. He doesn’t want to know, let alone find out. 

He just… He just wants to go to bed. Forget any of this ever happened. But he can’t do that, so he continues. 

“Brought him here and Wayne took one look at him and convinced him he needed a doctor. And, Jesus H Christ, he was right. I’ve never… I mean, those things don’t happen,” he urges, balling his hands into fists even in the confined space of his pockets. “Right? I mean… Shit, man.” He bumps his shoe into the kitchen counter; gently, so as not to startle Buckley out of her fugue like state. 

“You’d be surprised,” she rasps, staring into the middle distance again and slowly sinking to the floor. There is a tremor in her shoulders now, barely noticeable, but Eddie knows where to look. Without really thinking about it, he grabs two of his hoodies he’d haphazardly thrown over the kitchen chairs this morning while deciding on his outfit and realising that it was altogether too warm for long sleeves today. But now, right here in this kitchen, the air tinged with blue, they’re both freezing. 

Because fear and worry will take all the warmth right from inside of you and leave you freezing even on the hottest day of the year. 

She barely looks at him when he holds out his all-black Iron Maiden hoodie to her, freshly washed and all that, but she takes it nonetheless, immediately pulling it on. It’s way too large on her, her hands not showing through the sleeves, her balled fists safe and warm inside the fabric. It would make him smile if only it didn’t highlight her stillness, her faraway stare, and the years he has on her. She’s, what, two years younger than him? Three? 

It seems surreal. Everything, everything does. 

Robin Buckley in his home, sitting on his kitchen floor, swallowed by a hoodie that is a size too large even for him, but it was the last one they had in the store and he doesn’t mind oversized clothes, can just cut them shorter when the need arises or layer them or declare them comfort sweaters for when he wants to just have his hands not slip through the sleeves on some days. And now Robin is wearing his comfort hoodie because her best friend was bleeding in his car earlier and then on his couch and now in his uncle’s car, and they never even talk, but he knows that Robin’s favourite colour is blue, but not morning hour blue because that makes her sad; only deep, dark blues. 

Her favourite colour. Her favourite person. 

It’s so fucking surreal. 

He drops down beside her, leaving enough space between them so neither of them feels caged, and mirrors her position: knees to his chest, chin on his forearms. Staring ahead. 

And silence reigns. 

“Your uncle,” she says at last, finally breaking the silence that’s been grating on Eddie’s nerves and looking at him, really looking as she rests her cheek on her forearms crossed over her knees. “Tell me about him.” 

There is a gentleness to her voice now despite how hoarse it is. Maybe she’s just tired, too. And scared. At least the shivering has stopped. 

Still Eddie frowns, confused as to why she should be breaking the silence to ask about Wayne when everything today has been about Harrington. About Steve. About deep and dark blues. 

“Uncle Wayne?” he asks. “Why?”

“Because,” she begins, and sighs deeply, works to get the air back in her lungs. Eddie wants to reach out, but instead he just clenches his fingers a little deeper into the fabric of his hoodie. “My best friend is hurt very badly and the only person with him is your uncle, and I need to know that he’s in good hands. Or I swear to whatever god you may or may not believe in, and granted, it’s probably the latter, but still I swear I’ll give into my arsonist tendencies and burn down this city, starting with your trailer if you don’t tell me that your uncle is a good man who will do anything in his power to make sure that boy gets the help and care he needs. And deserves.” 

Her jaw is set and her bottom lip trembles, but it doesn’t take away from the absolute sincerity in her threat. 

“So, please,” she continues, her voice breaking just a little bit. “Tell me. Tell me about your uncle.” 

Tell me about your favourite person. 

Eddie swallows, and mirrors her position once more, so she can see his eyes and know he’s sincere. Because he’s learned something about eyes today, about how much in the world can change if only you have a pair of eyes to look into. 

And he nods, looking for somewhere to start. “He’s the best man I know. He’s the best man you’ll ever meet.”

She clings to his eyes. Searches them for the truth, beseeching them not to lie. He lets her. 

“Took me in when I was ten, because my dad’s a fuck-up and my mom’s a goner. Took me in again when I was twelve after I ran away. Makes me breakfast and I pretends the dinner I make him is more than edible.” He smiles a little, because how could he not? “He’s my uncle, but still he’s the best parent anyone could wish for. Writes those little notes that he sticks to the fridge, y’know, the one with the smiley face? Tells me to eat, because I forget sometimes. I tell him to drink water, because he forgets. First few years, he’d read to me. And the man’s a shit reader, has some kind of disability I think, and at some point I learned that he wasn’t reading at all. He was telling me stories all the time, conning me into thinking that the books were magic, and that every time I’d try to read the book for myself, the story would change.” 

There’s a lump in his throat now, and his eyes sting again. But Robin doesn’t seem to fare any better than him if her wavering smile is any indication. 

“There’s no one,” Eddie continues, “who will make you believe in magic quite like uncle Wayne. Or in good things. And d’you wanna know what he told Blue when he said he was scared of going to the hospital?” 

Sniffling, Robin shakes her head. 

“He said, Okay. Then we do it scared. And all of that after he just… with that patience he has, told him everything that was gonna happen. And that he’d be there with him through it all. That he knew the doc and wouldn’t let anyone else near him, and that there’s no need to be scared at all.” 

He sighs, breathes, stills. Swallows, before looking back at Robin. 

“So, if there’s one person who’ll make sure that boy gets the help and care he needs and deserves…” 

“It’s uncle Wayne,” Robin finishes his sentence, her voice still hoarse, but Eddie likes to think it’s for a different reason now. 

“It’s uncle Wayne,” Eddie says, nodding along as he does. 

There is something like understanding in Robin’s eyes now, and Eddie hopes it’s enough. Enough to calm the spiking of her nerves, enough to settle the coil of freezing nausea that must reside in the pit of her stomach, enough to let the next breath she takes feel a little more like it’s supposed to be there. 

He wants to say something more, wants to reach out and reassure her that everything will be okay, but he can’t know that. He doesn’t feel like it’s entirely true, let alone appropriate right now. 

There’s something in Robin’s eyes, in the way she holds herself, like she’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. Like she accepts his words at face value but doesn’t really believe them. Like she’ll only rest when she’s got her best friend back in her arms and hears the story — the whole story — from him. 

And Eddie doesn’t fault her, because the thing is, he doesn’t know what happened. Steve said that Hagan came at him, but that’s really all he got out of him before he started talking about death and shit, and Eddie really didn’t want to ask any more questions then. 

So they sit there for a while, the silence oppressive and unwelcome, clumsy and awkward; Robin’s mouth opening and closing a lot, like she wants to ask questions but doesn’t dare to ask them — and Eddie doesn’t know if he’s glad about it or not. Doesn’t know if he wants to hear the kind of questions asked with that kind of stare. 

It is only after a long while, when Robin’s shoulders start shaking again and she buries deeper into the hoodie and her own spiralling thoughts, that Eddie breaks the silence again, replaying in his head the last moment between him and Steve. 

“He’s not gonna break,” he tells her, aiming for gentle and reassuring. 

What he doesn’t expect is the minute flinch, the jolt shooting through her body and the pained expression it leaves her with. What he doesn’t expect is what she says next. 

“You know,” she begins, her voice as far away as her eyes, and it’s like she doesn’t even know she’s speaking. “Sometimes I wish he would.” 

What?

Eddie blinks, swallowing hard.

“Just for, just for a break. Just so he can rest. Let the rest take over for a while.” 

That… He doesn’t— What the hell does that even mean? 

“Like maybe then the world would… snap back.” She snaps her fingers, just once. This time it’s Eddie who flinches. “And everything bad would disappear. But it won’t. And he won’t.” She swallows. Then quietly, almost inaudible, “He won’t break.” 

And the way she says it… It was reassuring before. And now it feels like a burden. A curse. 

Who the fuck are you, Steve Harrington? And you, Robin Buckley. 

Eddie shudders, knowing he doesn’t want the answer to that anymore. He doesn’t want the questions either. So he buries his face in his hands, closes his eyes, and breathes. The adrenaline has worn off by now, the repeated panicking that added fuse to the fire has ceased now, leaving him worn out and strung out, tired and exhausted. He pulls up the hood, burrowing into the warmth. 

And then he stills. His usually twitching, fumbling, fiddling body falling entirely still beside Buckley. 

It’s like time stops for a while there, even though Eddie knows that it’s dragging ever on and on. He’s inclined to let it, though. He’s too tired, too exhausted to really care about what time may or may not be doing. 

“Why’d you call me?” 

It takes a while for Eddie to realise that Robin’s spoken again, asked him a question out loud, the cadence of it different to the endless circles of questions Eddie’s got stuck in his head since the early afternoon tinged in blue against crimson. 

He lifts his head, tucking his hands underneath his chin, and looks over at Buckley. Her hair is dishevelled now, her mascara smudged and crusty. Her lipstick is almost all gone, with the way he sees her biting and chewing on her lips. 

“I… It seemed like the right thing to do, y’know? He kept repeating your number. In the car, it was like… Sounds dramatic, but it was like his lifeline, almost. Repeated it so often it kinda got stuck.” He shrugs. “Seemed important, too.”

Robin frowns; a careful little thing. “How’d you know it was me?”

“Well, he just talked about you. Y’know. Tell me about your favourite person, I told him, because that’s the thing you gotta do to keep people, like, talking to you. Not shit about what day it is, or what. Just, y’know. Let them talk about things they like. Things they’ll wanna tell you about. ’N’ he talked about you.” 

She’s quiet for a while, letting his words sink in. And Eddie wonders if she knew. That she’s his favourite person. If he ever told her. If maybe he took that from him now. It’s a stupid thing to worry about, really; the boy was bloodied and bruised on his couch just an hour ago, there are worse things at hand for Eddie to worry about. But now he wonders if he just spilled some sort of secret. Some sort of love confession. 

“Did you, I mean… Are you guys, like, dating? Did I just steal his moment?” 

Robin huffs, but it’s more like a smile that needs a little more space in the room, a little more air to really bloom. It’s fond. She shakes her head, her eyes far away again, but closer somehow. 

“Nah,” she says, and the smile is in her voice, too. Eddie kind of likes her voice like that. “We’re platonic. Which is something I’d never thought I’d say. Not about Steve Harrington, y’know?” 

And the way she drags out his name… Eddie can relate. Like it means something, but like what it means is nowhere close to reality. Nowhere close to what it really means. Nowhere close to Blue. 

Robin sighs, the sound more gentle than it should be, and leans her head against the cabinet behind her. “We worked together over summer break. Scoops Ahoy.” Her voice does a funny thing, and her eyes glaze over as she pauses. Eddie waits, his lips tipped up into a little smile, too; to match hers. 

“What, the ice cream parlour?” 

Robin hums, her smile widening at what Eddie guesses must be memories of chaos and ridiculousness. “I wanted to hate him,” she continues. “But try as I might, he wouldn’t let me. Or, he did. He did let me. Just, it turns out, there’s no use hating Steve Harrington, not when he’s so… So endlessly genuine. There’s nothing to hate, y’know? And then he…” 

She stops, her mouth clicking shut as her eyes tear up a little. The Starcourt fire. Eddie remembers the news, remembers the self-satisfied smirk when he’d heard about it, remembers sticking it to the Man and to capitalism and to the idea of malls over supporting your friendly neighbourhood businesses. 

Guilt and shame overcome him as he realises that they must have been in there when it happened. 

“He saved your life?” 

Robin’s eyes snap toward him, wide and caught, and Eddie raises his hands in placation. 

“In the fire? Were you there?” 

“Y—yeah.” She swallows hard, avoiding his eyes. “The fire. He saved me. Yeah.” 

Eddie nods, deciding to drop that topic right there; to lay it on the ground as gently as he can and cover it with bright red colours so he never steps on it ever again. 

“He must be your favourite person, too, then, hm?” he steers the conversation back away into safer waters. 

“He is,” she says, sure and genuine and true. “It’s just. I don’t think I’ve ever been anyone’s favourite. He has a lot of people who care about him, you know? A lot of people he cares about. Even more numbers memorised in that stupidly smart head of his.” She huffs again, burrowing deeper into Eddie’s hoodie, pulling the sleeves over her hands some more. “It’s stupid, to be so hung up on this. Is it stupid?” 

“I don’t think it is,” Eddie says, scooting a little closer to Robin. “Like, I don’t even know that boy, right? But even I know that he’s got some ways to shift your focus or something. Give you a silver lining, or something to take the pain away even when he’s the one who… I don’t know, that’s probably stupid, too.” 

“Nah,” Robin says, scooting closer to him, too, until their sides are pressed together and she can lay her head on his shoulder. “It’s not stupid. You’re right; that’s Steve for you. ’S just who he is.” 

It is, isn’t it? 

You’re so blue, Stevie. 

She’ll say something corny when, when you ask her, jus’ to fuck with you. Sunset gold or rose, jus’ to mess with… But is blue.

Blue. ‘S nice. 

Yeah. Yeah, he is. 

Eddie lets his thoughts roam the endless possibilities and realities that is Steve Harrington, the depths he hides — or won’t hide, maybe, if you know how to ask. Where to look. 

Maybe he’ll find out, one of these days. Not about the terrible things that leave him scared of the hospital, not about the horrible things that have him speaking of death and dying like he’s accepted them as a possibility a long time ago. 

He swallows hard and shakes off these thoughts, because things like that just. They don’t happen. They don’t happen to blue-smiled boys who trust you to be kind even when they’re beaten straight to hell. And they sure as hell don’t happen when uncle Wayne’s around. 

Nothing bad has ever happened when uncle Wayne was around. 

And he wants to tell Robin, wants to make that promise. But part of him can’t bear the thought of being wrong. So he keeps his mouth shut and just sits with her, their heads as heavy as their hearts as they wait. 

The sun is long gone when the phone above him rings again, spooking and startling them out of their timeless existence. 

“Yeah?” he answers, his heart hammering in his chest. “Wayne?” 

“Hey, Ed,” Wayne’s voice comes through the phone like a melody. Calm and steady. Robin is scooting closer, and Eddie shifts the phone to accommodate her so they can both listen. Somehow, they ended up holding hands — and holding on hard. “We’re coming home now.” 

🤍🌷 tagging:

@theshippirate22 @mentallyundone @ledleaf @imfinereallyy @itsall-taken @simply-shin @romanticdestruction @temptingfatetakingnames @stevesbipanic @steddie-island @estrellami-1 @jackiemonroe5512 @emofratboy @writing-kiki @steviesummer @devondespresso @swimmingbirdrunningrock @dodger-chan @tellatoast @inkjette @weirdandabsurd42 @annabanannabeth @deany-baby @mc-i-r @mugloversonly @viridianphtalo @nightmareglitter @jamieweasley13 @copingmechanizm @marklee-blackmore @sirsnacksalot @justrandomfandomstm @hairdryerducks @silenzioperso @newtstabber @fantrash @zaddipax @cometsandstardust @rowanshadow26 @limpingpenguin @finntheehumaneater @extra-transitional (sorry if i missed anyone! lmk if you don't wanna be tagged for part 4 🫶)