#Steve has ptsd

[withacapitalp]

How to Rehabilitate a Jock Pt 20

Part Nineteen Part One Link to ao3

A huge thank you to so many people but it's especially @thefreakandthehair for betaing, being the best, and generally encouraging all of my nuttiness. Also a big shout out to Bowie ( don't remember your Tumblr my lovely!!) for doublechecking some sensititvity reading for me. Y'all rock!!!

Jeff had the decency to wait until Frank was safely in his house before he called Eddie out on his shit. 

“What the fuck are you doing, man?” Jeff sighed the second the door closed behind Frank, leaving only the snow, Eddie’s headlights, and two best friends about to have an incredibly awkward conversation. 

“Driving you dicks home?” Eddie tried, hoping that he could fool Jeff into not having the uncomfortable conversation that was already beginning. He kicked the van into reverse, throwing a hand casually over Jeff’s seat as he turned and began to maneuver his way back to the road. 

“Eddie.”

It wasn’t much. It wasn’t anything really. Just his name, nothing more, nothing less, but it was Jeff’s tone. 

That voice, the voice he always used when he was trying to cut through Gareth and Eddie’s bullshit. Corroded Coffin had lasted all these years because of balance. Frank was their rock, steady and sure; Eddie and Gareth were the stream, bouncing and playing and whirling around in a daze; but Jeff was the earth around them. Jeff was everything, and Eddie might be their leader, but Jeff was the one that held everything together. 

And he was the only one who could get Eddie to drop the act with just one word. 

“Honestly, dude? I have no fucking idea what I’m doing,” Eddie sighed, slightly curling in on himself as he focused on the road. The snow was only mildly awful at the moment, but winter in Indiana could turn on a dime and Eddie wasn’t looking to run his van off the road just because Jeff was grilling him about his stupid little completely non-existent crush. 

“Well, what do you want from him?” Jeff asked, dragging the first word slowly out as he thought about what he wanted to say. Sometimes the other members of Hellfire would do things like that— talk slow or choose words carefully, just to try and avoid Eddie’s sparky temper. 

Unfortunately for him, Eddie was already worked up about this particular topic. 

“Great question!” Eddie snapped, going to throw his hands up before choosing to be wise and hold the wheel steady. A small squall was beginning to form around them, and his visibility was starting to cut to next to none.

“Okay, okay,” Jeff said, placating to Eddie’s need to be a bit of an asshat, “So what happened between you and Steve that’s got Gareth so pressed?”

If it was any other person in the car with him, Eddie might have been able to fake it. Even Frank might have fallen for a lie about Gareth’s hatred of jocks and conformity and how Steve was just a representation of that. 

But it was Jeff. Jeff, who was their Earth, who knew that Gareth’s grudge wouldn’t have lasted this long if it wasn’t motivated by protectiveness. That the only reason Gareth wouldn’t have started to warm up even a little bit was his need to make sure his people were safe. 

Few things in life were assured, but death, taxes, and Gareth Winston’s need to protect his own were all a given.  

“Steve probably doesn’t even remember, so it doesn’t matter,” Eddie muttered, evading the question just as he narrowly evaded a pothole that seemed to appear out of thin air on the road in front of them. The storm was picking back up again, and this was not the conversation to be having right at this moment.  

“Well, do you want him to fuck you?” Jeff asked bluntly, cutting through the fat and straight to the juicy meat of the problem. 

“Jeff!” Eddie blurted out, a nervous burst of laughter escaping along with his name. He took the risk of looking away from the road for a few seconds to give the other boy a wild-eyed look, but Jeff seemed unphased, cool as a cucumber as a lion’s smile began to curl on his face. 

“Do you want to fuck him?” 

Unbidden, a dozen images flashed through Eddie’s head. Steve in his bed. Steve shirtless. Steve underneath him with his hair splayed out on the pillows, wrists trapped in gleaming silver cuffs as he begged so pretty for—

No. 

No no no no no no NO. 

“Dude!” Eddie groaned, turning away from the road again to shout at Jeff. 

And then it happened. 

Jeff’s shit-eating grin disappeared, his eyes growing to the size of dinner plates as he shouted a wordless warning cry and Eddie had less than a second to turn back to the road, slamming his foot on the brake and throwing his arm out to protect Jeff from the inevitable crash. 

There was something on the road in front of them. The snow made it impossible to see beyond the shape, but, whatever it was, it was massive. Huge, and hulking, with a dark shadow that sent a chill down Eddie’s spine, and he was sure his van wouldn’t survive the impact. 

But no impact came. 

His tires skidded, the van turned half a quarter, but no collision, no smashing glass, no pain. Just twin panting from him and Jeff, and an empty road all around them. 

“What was that?” Jeff whispered when he was able to form words again. 

“A deer, I guess,” Eddie murmured back, not really feeling all that sure of his answer. He had never seen a deer like that, but he also hadn’t really seen anything. His wild imagination wanted to run with it, but there was no point. Whatever it was, it was gone, and that’s what mattered. 

He leaned back against his seat, his heart still racing as he patted Jeff’s chest twice, slightly assured when he could feel Jeff’s heart pounding through his shirt as well.

“Sorry.” 

“Shouldn’t’ve distracted you,” Jeff mumbled, lacing his fingers together to hide how badly they were shaking. 

“Hey, not your fault,” Eddie said, knowing how Jeff’s anxiety tended to latch to any blame it could when it got tripped like this. Eddie tested the van, carefully pulling back onto the right side of the road. They stayed quiet as Eddie turned them towards Jeff’s house, driving at a turtle’s pace with both hands on the wheel. 

“I want to help him,” Eddie offered into the silence, eyes firm on the road. “If I can.”

When Jeff didn’t immediately respond, Eddie thought that was the end of the conversation, but as they approached Jeff’s neighborhood, the boy next to him spoke up again. 

“Steve needs the help. Something’s really wrong with him, Eds.”

“You’re turning over to Gareth’s side?” Eddie joked, the words thin and frail and instantly disappearing the second he put them in the air. 

“No,” Jeff replied, no veil of humor over his words. “There’s something wrong with him like there’s something wrong with me.” 

“There’s nothing wrong with you,” Eddie said on instinct, hating the bitter scoff Jeff gave. He pulled up to a stop sign and put the van all the way in park, turning in his seat and giving Jeff his full attention 

“Look at me.” Eddie ordered, waiting until Jeff’s dark eyes met his own in the dim light of the streetlamp before speaking again. 

“There’s nothing wrong with you, Jeff. Nothing.” He said, making sure that there was zero wiggle room in his voice. 

Because there wasn’t, and Eddie hated that his best friend thought there was. There was something wrong with Hawkins, with the country they lived in, with the world. There was something wrong with a species that somehow made color a defining factor in a person’s worth, but there was not, and never would be, anything wrong with who Jeff was.

“Fine, then something wrong happened to both of us,” Jeff amended, a ghost of a smile crossing his face at Eddie’s insistence. “Either way, just be careful with him,” 

“Aren’t you supposed to be giving Steve the shovel talk? Not the other way around?” Eddie joked, putting the van back in gear and turning onto Jeff’s street. 

“When you get him, I’ll give him the talk,” Jeff promised, crossing his heart as he did. 

When, not if. Just one word instead of the other, but a flush of warmth flooded Eddie from the top of his head to the tips of his toes. There wasn’t a chance in hell that Jeff was right to use the word ‘when’, because Eddie’s chances were not even ‘if’, but he loved the positivity. 

“Have a good night, man,” Jeff said as they pulled into his driveway, holding out a hand for a quick shake as he unbuckled his seatbelt.  

“Hey,” Eddie called, grabbing the edge of Jeff’s coat as he stepped out of the van. “Us freaks stick together. Always.”

It was a little reminder, just a hint of a conversation they had over a year ago, but judging by the way Jeff’s eyes softened and his shoulders lowered, he knew exactly what Eddie was reminding him of. 

“Always,” Jeff echoed, squeezing Eddie’s wrist once before he hurried towards his darkened house and slipped inside. Eddie waited till the porch light turned off before sighing heavily, resting his head against the steering wheel for a moment before reversing again. 

Back to the lion’s den. 

The house was dark as Eddie quietly let himself back in, but the glow of the pool and the embers of the fire crackling in the fireplace gave just enough light to see the aftermath of the party. It wasn’t half as bad as some of the messes Eddie had seen from Steve’s previous parties, but it was still pretty messy. There would be a lot of cleanup coming tomorrow, and Eddie’s heart ached when he thought about Steve spending Christmas Eve alone cleaning up his house. 

Damn this boy. Eddie didn’t even celebrate Christmas, and here he was worrying over Steve about being alone for it. 

Maybe Wayne wouldn’t mind having one more person over for dinner. Usually it was just the two of them, but Wayne loved his strays almost as much as Eddie did, and Steve was an easy guy to care about. 

Eddie would ask him tomorrow morning. Call before anyone woke up and see what Wayne said. Then he would offer to help clean and ask Steve when it was just the two of them. After all, no one should be alone on the holidays. 

Eddie was so lost in his thoughts, that he almost missed the sound of an angel singing somewhere up above. 

Are you lonesome tonight?

Do you miss me tonight?

Are you sorry we drifted apart?

But no, there was no missing that voice. Eddie was a connoisseur of music, but he already knew that almost any other song was ruined for him. He was the cat caught by the canary instead of the other way around, lost in the sound of a voice he hadn’t heard in years. It was deeper now, fuller, grown almost into a man from the boy he had been the last time Eddie heard him sing.  

Does your memory stray to a bright summer day

When I kissed you and called you sweetheart?

He climbed the stairs slowly, drawn like a moth to a flame, knowing it would burn, but needing to be close anyway. 

Do the chairs in your parlor seem empty and bare?

Do you gaze at your doorstep and picture me there?

Outside the room now, Eddie could see it all while still staying hidden. Steve was sitting on the floor, his head leaned back against the bed that was filled to the bursting with his sleeping children. 

His entire self was on display for Eddie, not just his body, but his soul and his mind, a gift being given without knowing, and Eddie was too selfish not to take it. 

Is your heart filled with pain?

Shall I come back again?

This was the boy Gareth couldn’t see, but the one Eddie couldn’t stop looking for. A boy who knew their first memory together. Without a doubt. Who had never forgotten, no matter how much Eddie tried to convince himself he had. 

There was no other reason to pick this song. 

Tell me dear, are you lonesome tonight?

And without permission Eddie was thrust into a memory.

Despite it only being his sophomore year, Eddie was more than used to getting detention. In the two years since he had moved to Hawkins, Eddie had earned his ‘problem child’ status at least twice over. This particular afternoon, he was stuck sitting at a graffitied desk in the detention room because he dared to argue when his teacher told him that it was valid to not believe in evolution when it went against your religious beliefs. 

Evolution. The base of all humanity. 

She was wrong, but she was the one with all the power, so Eddie was the one in trouble. 

Still it could’ve been worse. Wayne had given him the van for his fifteenth birthday, so he wasn’t stuck waiting on the steps for a ride home after missing the bus. It wasn’t technically legal, but Hopper tended to look the other way as long as Eddie continued to give him discounts on ‘merchandise’. 

All Eddie had to do was wait out the clock. Mr. Whiter had already fallen asleep at the desk up front and at six, Eddie would be free. Maybe he could even stop at Benny’s. The man always gave him extra fries to bring home to Wayne, and Eddie was making good money now that Rick was in the slammer. He was the last dealer left in town, so things were looking up. 

Well things would be looking up, except the kid next to him refused to stop sniffling. 

Eddie muffled an irritated sigh, sliding his eyes over to take stock of the boy sitting across the way. Clearly a freshman, and obviously his first time in detention. He was looking around the room with wide-eyed horror, slightly terrified of every single thing he saw, and obviously trying to brush tears away from his bruised cheek and busted lip. 

Normally, Eddie would just tell him to shut up. That detention was barely anything to have to deal with in the grand scheme of things, but he had seen the fight that landed the kid in detention, and it had been bad enough to warrant some misery. 

One second he and another boy (obviously a friend given how upset the kid was) were laughing by his locker, and the next second they were exchanging blows. It had been bad, taking three teachers to separate them, and somehow this kid had gotten in trouble for the whole thing!

But Eddie had seen the start, and it was the other twerp that had thrown the first punch. Yet somehow, he was already on the bus home and this schmuck was stuck in detention with the Freak of Hawkins High

The unjustness gnawed at Eddie’s soul, and the longer the kid sat there doing nothing but brush at his already dry cheeks, the harder it was to ignore him. 

Fuck it. There were worse ways to spend an afternoon. 

Eddie grabbed his notebook, slamming it open to a fresh page and dragging his favorite purple pen across the paper, taking a cursory glance at Mr. Whiter’s snoring form before sliding his chair over to the other boy. 

“Hi!” Eddie said, throwing a big smile in the kids direction and hoping that would grease the wheels a little. Eddie knew how intimidating he could look to the rest of the world, and he liked it that way, but it sometimes made it hard to make friends. 

Sure enough, the kid startled the second Eddie spoke, looking at him the way a deer looks at the hunter right before they hear the death shot. He didn’t seem like the type to just outright tell Eddie to fuck off, but he did look massively uncomfortable with Eddie invading his space.  

Oh well, what was the worst that could happen?

“Wanna kill some time?” Eddie offered, holding up his notebook before placing it down on the desk in front of them. A tic tac toe board sat in the middle of the page, and a scorecard was up in the top corner with the word ‘Eddie' on one side and the words ‘Random Kid 'on the other. 

A barely there smile glanced across the kids face as he looked down at the page, and then those big brown eyes were on him. Eddie waited patiently, forcing his body to stay still which was actually a pretty herculean task— not that this kid knew. He had the worm on the hook and the line in the water, and now he was just waiting for the curious fish to bite. 

Whatever the kid was looking for, he must’ve found it because that same soft, shy smile was gifted to Eddie as he leaned down, rooting around in his backpack for his own pen. When he found the one he was looking for, he carefully crossed over Eddie’s purple writing, replacing ‘Random Kid’ with just one word instead. 

“Well, Steve, let’s hope your tic-tac-toe powers are better than your fighting skills,” Eddie joked, pleased when instead of getting mad, Steve’s cheeks darkened in a pretty little blush, and he simply ducked his head with a soft protest and an embarrassed smile. 

They played a few rounds in relative silence, the occasional quiet groan or cheer when one or the other managed to clinch a victory. It was nice, a little boring, but far preferable to what they had been doing before. 

And then Steve’s pen died. 

It was a slow death, long and drawn out with some furious scribbling to try and get one last juice for the squeeze. 

“Here, man, just take mine. I’ve got a spare somewhere,” Eddie offered, not even thinking twice as he gave away his favorite pen, even though he never let anyone borrow that pen. Wayne had gotten it for him on a day trip to Indianapolis for his birthday, just a tiny trinket to commemorate the day, and Eddie loved it to death. 

There was no way Steve could have known that, and yet he was looking at the pen like it was a live snake. 

“Why are you being so nice to me?” Steve asked, his eyes narrowing as he looked down at the clearly treasured object in front of him. 

Eddie looked up at the other boy, furrowing his brow. 

“Why not?” Eddie said with a shrug, going back to his notebook with a plain black pen. He was scratching out another tic-tac-toe board to add to the dozens that were already on the page, but paused when he saw Steve wasn’t picking up his own pen. 

“People aren’t just nice,” Steve insisted, giving Eddie an unexpectedly guarded look. “They always want something…so what do you want from me?” 

“I want to make this afternoon a little less unbearable, I want to fight the system, and I want to make you feel better.” Eddie offered, quirking his head to the side and picking up his favorite purple pen to offer once more to the other boy, “Isn’t that enough?” 

They stared at each other for a long second, until Steve’s face broke into an incredulous smile and he ducked his head down. 

“You’re really weird,” he said with a soft laugh, taking the pen. It was a lovely sound, like birds singing in the morning, or the first soft strum of a guitar as practice began. 

Eddie needed to hear it again.

From there they were off, talking about everything and anything. Eddie shared about all of the  ridiculous reasons he had gotten detention over the years, and Steve explained that the other punk from the fight was Tommy, apparently his best friend for his entire life. They had lived next to each other since Steve had moved to Hawkins as a kid, and had done every single thing together. The reason Tommy had started the fight was Steve had told him he wasn’t sure he wanted to go to basketball try-outs tomorrow. 

“It’s not that I don’t like it, I just want to try some other stuff too you know?” Steve said, looking up from their game to catch Eddie’s eye, “We’re in high school now, so it’s the time to try something new, isn’t it?” 

“Sure it is!” Eddie agreed eagerly, holding himself back from going on a diatribe about the laundry basket devils that ran the school and instead talking about all of the clubs he was in. He couldn’t really see Steve enjoying Marching Band or Creative Writing, but Drama might be a good fit, or maybe Art. 

“You could even join the new club I’m trying to start if you wanted,” Eddie offered, trying to stay casual but practically vibrating at the thought of having someone else to show Higgins that Hellfire was worthy of a place at the table. 

“A new club?” Steve asked. 

“Yea, it’s gonna be great,” Eddie started, taking a deep breath to start his long rant about the joys of dungeons and dragons, “So it’s called—”

“Alright boys,” a nasally voice droned from the front of the room. “Time to pack it up.”

Both boys jumped at Mr. Whiter’s interruption, and Eddie rolled his eyes, frustrated at being stopped right as he had started to get to the good stuff. The geometry teacher either didn’t notice or didn’t care, too eager to get back to his own home to do whatever geometry teachers did when they weren’t at school. 

If Eddie had to guess, it was probably fucking their wives with compasses while reciting geometric formulas as foreplay. That seemed right. 

“And don’t let me catch you in here again, Mr. Harrington. I would hope your parents had taught you better,” Mr. Whiter said as they trudged past him. His blank potato looking face was only showing the barest hints of disappointment, but that was still enough to make Steve cringe away.

“Yes sir,” he whispered, all joy from the last hour they had spent together vanishing in an instant.

“What? No warning for me Mr. Whiter?” Eddie inquired, batting his eyes and trying to take the attention away from Steve. 

“I don’t particularly like wasting my breath on hopeless cases, Mr. Munson,” Whiter droned, half raising one brow, as if shocked that Eddie would even bother to ask for an admonishment. “Try to get your homework done tonight, will you? I’d hate to add another zero to my gradebook,”

Hot shame rushed down Eddie’s spine, replaced quickly by a lightning fury that made his lips loose and his logic take a quick hike. 

“Well, I don’t particularly like making promises I can’t keep, sorry Tighty-Whiteys!” Eddie declared, grabbing Steve’s hand and dragging him away before they could get in any trouble because of Eddie’s big fat mouth. 

“Jesus H Christ, that guys a dick!” Eddie shouted, both boys laughing breathlessly as they burst through the doors of the school. 

“You gonna do the homework?” Steve said through his giggles. 

“Now? Hell no!” Eddie swore, cackling as he did and jumping up onto the low wall next to the school. “Gotta fight the system however you can, Stevie. Trust me. Listen to your elders.”

“Whatever you say,”  Steve said, continuing to laugh at Eddie’s antics. He idly looked around the parking lot, his mood starting to darken as he looked again, searching the parking lot again, but Eddie wasn’t exactly sure what for. 

Then Steve sighed, plopping down on the curb and wrapping his arms around his knees resting his chin on top of them and rapidly blinking. 

“What’re you doin’?” Eddie asked with concern, shocked at Steve’s sudden turn and hopping down from his spot on the wall. 

“My parents aren’t here,” Steve muttered glumly, staring out at the empty lot instead of looking at Eddie as he sat on the curb next to Steve. “The school called after the fight, and they knew when I was getting out, but my dad’s probably going to make me wait ‘till after dinner or something.”

It wasn’t exactly the most damning thing to say in the world, Eddie could think of a dozen things that his dad had done to him that were worse, but the thought of making his own son wait for hours in the cold and dark still made something in his stomach squirm. He could never imagine Wayne doing anything like that to him.

Steve curled up even tighter around himself, completely unaware of Eddie’s internal struggle. 

“God, I bet they’re so pissed.” Steve whispered into his knees. “And now my dad’s going to have to come get me, and he’s going to be even madder about that—”

“Why don’t I give you a ride home?” Eddie offered in an instant, shocking even himself with the boldness of the offer. He had just met the kid only an hour ago, but Steve’s genuine nature touched something in him, and there was a magnetic pull to want to help him that Eddie couldn’t quite explain just yet. “Then at least they won’t be mad at you about needing a ride, right?”

It would make more sense for Steve to say no, to try and play it off, but instead he was giving Eddie a watery smile and a look of gratitude as he nodded, starting to stand. 

Eddie had never really worried about what the van looked like, but as they walked towards where it was, Eddie jogged ahead, trying to throw the multitudes of wrappers and junk into the back where Steve wouldn’t see. Luckily for him, the younger boy seemed enraptured by the simple fact that Eddie had a car at all. 

“I want something cool like a Beemer or a truck, but my mom doesn’t want me to get a car ‘till I’m 18,” Steve said idly, pausing and furrowing his brow as he did, “She’s really weird about me driving for some reason.” 

Hopefully, she wouldn’t feel too weird about a random guy giving her kid a ride home in a kidnapper van. 

“Pick a tape for us to listen to,” Eddie offered as he climbed into the driver's seat, fighting with his seatbelt as Steve perused his choices. Unfortunately, Steve quickly skipped over all of the metal that Eddie had at the front of the pack, but soon familiar notes began to sing, and Eddie’s shoulders relaxed as he recognized the song. 

“Ahhhh, The King. A good choice,” Eddie commented as Elvis’s voice began to croon out into the air between them. 

“Who could hate this song?” Steve asked rhetorically, a wry grin on his face as the tune began to take shape.

“I always loved that nickname,” Steve said off handedly, staring out the window at the rows of corn, “King.” 

“You should steal it then,” Eddie said automatically. Sure, Steve was a kid right now, but Eddie could see it in his eyes. A few years, a couple more inches, and that kid would have the world eating out of his palm. That sweet nature, that funny little humor, ‘King’ wasn’t too hard to imagine when it came to Steve. 

“Maybe,” Steve replied, drawing out the word with a tone that showed that he wasn’t sure about that. He gave Eddie a few more directions, and they got closer and closer to their time being done together. A strange desperation started to make Eddie’s heart race, like he could feel the two of them pulling back into their roles, backing away from whatever they had this afternoon. 

“It’s got a good ring to it. King Steve,” Eddie pushed, pausing and making the turn into Loch Nora before he put his heart on the line. 

“Why don’t you blow off basketball try-outs tomorrow? Come to my club I’m starting instead. You can meet my friends.”

It was a chance, a choice. Steve could make the right one, and be one of them, or he could get sucked into Hawkins and all of it’s hell hole small town bullshit. Eddie was giving him an out. 

“That sounds really fun,” Steve said in a small voice, a secret smile shared between them before it was ruined by a shout from the house in front of them. 

“Steven!”

It was a woman’s voice, and Steve’s entire body stiffened. No more smiles, no more relaxing, Steve was a rod of pure steel, with a blank unaffected face. A man and a woman, Steve’s mother and father presumably, were standing on the porch together, twin faces of disappointed gravity that stole all of the air out of the van. 

“Well, wish me luck,” Steve laughed without humor, his fingers worrying over the straps of his backpack as he started to unbuckle his seatbelt. 

“See you tomorrow?” Eddie asked, already knowing in his stomach that he wouldn’t. 

“Tomorrow,” Steve said, the word so thin and frail now. 

And he was gone. Out of the car, and most definitely out of Eddie’s life. But if he was losing this like he seemed to lose everything, Eddie wanted to at least say a proper goodbye. 

“See you later Alligator!” Eddie shouted through the window. Steve turned back, haloed by the setting sun, looking far too angelic for a gangly fourteen year old. 

“In a while Crocodile,” Steve called back with a slight laugh, just a shadow of his former self, turning and rushing to his waiting parents who gave Eddie one last glare before slamming the door shut. 

Eddie waited a second, staring at the locked door and listening to the song on the radio, wishing that the burning in his eyes would just disappear the way Steve had. 

Do the chairs in your parlor seem empty and care?

Do you gaze at your doorstep and picture me there?

Is your heart filled with pain

Shall I come back again?

Tell me dear, are you lonesome tonight?

Eddie opened his eyes again, back in the present, to find Steve already watching him. 

In another world, things worked out differently, but not in this one. 

In reality, Steve didn’t come to Hellfire the next day. Tommy was at his locker bright and early, there to laugh the whole thing off and drag Steve to try-outs come hell or high water. Eddie had seen the whole thing, and he had known then and there Steve wasn’t one of them. Steve’s cheek was still bruised, but there were finger shapes on his wrist that definitely hadn’t been there the day before during detention. He had glanced at Eddie, but quickly glanced away, agreeing loudly that try-outs were going to be awesome. 

When Steve had caught his eye that day, when he had tried to say he was sorry without words, Eddie hadn’t been in a place to listen. He had a thousand chips of his own weighing on his shoulders, and an inability to see anything but his own opinion as right. 

There was no way to be two things at once, not back then. 

But that bruised beat up kid was in front of him again, big hazel eyes begging for forgiveness again. And this time, Eddie finally felt ready to give it to him. 

“Hi Alligator,” Eddie whispered, the words barely able to get out past the lump in his throat. A small smile graced Steve’s lips as his eyes began to shine in the dark. 

“It’s been a while, Crocodile,” Steve whispered back. 

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[steddierecs]

change, at the mention of a conflict by Wolperting

Word count: 48,923 (incomplete) / 15/? Rating: G Trigger and content warnings: drug and alcohol abuse, torture, child neglect and abuse, PTSD, blood and gore

Summary: Steve Harrington had changed a lot. He changed for his parents, for his friends, for his partners.

In 1983 he changed what he thought was set in stone.

or

Stranger Things Daemon AU. Steve Harrington goes through a lot and a Daemon really is a window into someone's soul.

[georgiaspeachy]

direct quote from steve harrington

i am completely fine in an “i have been mentally unwell for years” kinda way

[steddiehasmywholeheart]

Thinking of Steve with PTSD from the torture in Starcourt. (TW: explicit memories physical torture)

Steve, who wakes up feeling hands punch him. Steve, who sometimes gets his fingers caught on knots in his hair, tugs at them accidentally, and suddenly feels the needle against his neck again. Steve, who can't remember the last time it didn't feel like someone was touching him, even when there's no one there.

During the day, it's not so bad. It whispers over his skin, but sometimes it's like it goes completely silent, drowned by the chaos of the kids or Robin's antics. But nights, or any time he's alone in his house, are hard. His skin burns from being slapped, pinched, injected, and the walls waver and morph into the basement of Starcourt for hours.

Obviously, Robin get's it, she was there too, so the pair try to spend as much time as possible together. But on the night's she's working, or her parents force her in and Steve out, he struggles, avoiding his house like the plague.

It's on one of these nights he meets Eddie. Eddie, who's a little skeptical of him, but who saw his fall from grace, and can see the wild fear in Steve's eyes from a mile away. Eddie, who's always ready to adopt a stray sheep. Eddie, who's babbling brings him back to earth, even when he has no idea what he's on about. He learns Eddie's funny, and loud, and brings life to his sickeningly quiet home in a way no-one else can, and Eddie learns he's not a stuck-up bully of a jock, and it quickly becomes a routine for them to meet whenever Robin's busy. Overtime, Eddie learns Steve struggles because of what he went through in Starcourt, but not much else.

One night, he rocked up to Steve's for a movie night, and he can tell instantly it's a bad day. Steve looks haunted, there's no other word for it. He knows he's going to have to pull out the extra Munson Special to be able to get a real smile out of him tonight.

But it doesn't work. In fact, Steve just seems to be getting worse.

He keeps zoning out, knuckles wise where they grip his jeans, the sofa, anything. And not only is he shaking in general, he's also jolting. And... dodging. Like some invisible figure is hitting him.

Eddie's so worried, he actually stops talking, just watches for a little bit and. Steve doesn't notice. He just keeps breathing too fast. Keeps staring at some ghost in his past. Keeps flinching.

Saying Steve's name isn't enough to get his attention, so slowly, carefully, Eddie reaches for him, placing a hand on his arm, just lightly. But it's enough to make Steve reel back.

They're both apologising in seconds, Steve looking distraught as he assures Eddie it's fine, he's just being stupid, and Eddie saying he should have asked, it's no big deal. But Eddie doesn't miss the sheen in Steve's eyes as he nods, or the tremble to his lips.

He takes a deep breath. Asks, "Steve? what's going on?" Watches as Steve tenses impossibly more for one second. Two. Then crumbles.

"I- I can just f-feel- and-and it hurts, and I don't-"

"Okay, okay, what can I do?"

But Steve just whines, because he doesn't know, he just feels pain everywhere and he just needs to make it stop.

Cue Eddie wracking his brains, and asking where it hurts the worst. Cue Eddie asking if Steve trusts him (and of course he does). Cue Eddie talking Steve through what he's about to do. Cue Eddie gently reaching out to touch Steve's neck, rubbing his thumb over it gently, holding his breath as Steve goes rigid underneath his hand, only to let it out when a significant amount of the tension just bleeds out of him a few moments later.

Slowly, Eddie works his way around all the sore spots, murmuring soft assurances, gaining more confidence as Steve trembles less, breathes easier, and melts under his touch.

They end up with Steve's face buried in Eddie's shoulder, Eddie's arms around him firmly, but not tightly. And Steve doesn't have the words to explain why he needed this, what had caused this. But it doesn't matter. Because Eddie's got him.

From then on, Steve's always got someone to help him remember his body is his. Eddie doesn't hesitate to welcome Steve with a hug, run his hands over Steve's wrists, trail fingers over Steve's neck, or just wrap him up in a blanket and snuggle with him and watch a movie. It doesn't matter that Steve's not allowed to explain. He can piece enough together himself (and after Vecna, he learns anyway). It just matters that Steve is sleeping easier, and laughing more brightly. It just matters that Steve is his.

[transmunsons]

Wayne was extra protective of Eddie. He was a type of special that most of Hawkins didn’t even know about. So when Steve Harrington started comin’ around, he made sure to keep an eye on him. Eddie reassured Wayne that he was a good guy, he wouldn’t hurt Eddie or do anything stupid like give him an Eddie Jr.

Still, Wayne watched. He noticed Steve’s odd behavior: watching exits, jumping at noises, always on the edge of his seat. Behaviors that were more suited to an old fart down at the Hideaway rather than a middle-class suburban teenager.

Wayne picked him up once. Found him in the middle of the night on the side of the road, not jogging, not headed anywhere, just… walking. Said he couldn’t sleep. Wayne took him back to the Munson apartment for a hot chocolate.

Eddie joined them as they watched TV. The only time Steve seemed to relax was when he had a thumb on Eddie’s inner wrist, like he was checking for a pulse. Wayne left to shower and rest, but between the bathroom and his bed he caught a glimpse of them dead asleep on the couch, curled around each other.

Wayne had a feeling Steve’s quirks were connected to the twin scars marking both Steve and Eddie’s skin. He didn’t know what went down that week in March, but Steve brought Eddie back to him mostly in one piece.

They both would tell him when they were ready. If they ever were. But for now they had each other and that was more than most would get.

[loveinhawkins]

It’s only once everything is okay that Dustin starts thinking there’s something deeply wrong with him.

They’re out of the danger zone, where hospital visits have almost become normal hangouts rather than something to sit through on tenterhooks. Eddie’s getting the all clear to go home soon, and Dustin feels like he’s finally, finally able to take a deep breath, and blow it all the way out.

Steve must feel it, too, because he starts drifting off halfway through one of their last visits, while Dustin’s telling Eddie how Tews got up on the roof last night.

Dustin’s not offended by Steve falling asleep—for one, Steve already heard the story on the ride to the hospital and, more importantly, Dustin’s pretty positive that he’s barely been sleeping, only just enough so he can safely drive his car.

Dustin pats his knee fondly as he gets up.

Even though he’s steadily swaying towards the end of the couch, Steve tries to rouse himself.

“Mm, Dustin, jus’… jus’ need ten minutes, then… give y’ride home…”

“It’s okay,” Dustin says. He gently pushes Steve’s shoulder, snorts when Steve’s head tips right onto the arm of the couch. “I’m gonna go call my mom.”

He knows Steve really must be exhausted when he doesn’t attempt an argument to counter that, just sighs with a murmured, “Hmm? If tha’s… ‘kay.”

From the bed, Eddie looks on with a smile. “Thanks, Henderson,” he says softly. “Wayne’s gonna come later, he can… give him a ride home.”

He yawns through his words, like just looking at Steve is making him sleepy, too.

They’ve been like that a lot recently, Dustin thinks, like their breathing falls into sync without them even trying.

He slips out of the room quietly. There’s something between Steve and Eddie, he can feel it—and although he can’t quite put a name to it yet, he knows it’s something delicate, like spun glass. He’s not going to be the one to disturb it.

When his mom comes to pick him up, it happens.

“Put your coat on, hon, it’s freezing out.”

Dustin rolls his eyes—it’s hardly that cold—but as he steps outside, the air hits his bare skin and—

He’s in The Upside Down, and the cold is in his throat, in his lungs, he can’t stop shaking with it, and Eddie, he’s—he’s not breathing—

“Dustin? The car’s parked this way, baby.”

Dustin breathes in, short and sharp. For a moment, he can still see it all: the lightning, the blue tint, the particles hanging in the air, and then, like blinking away a camera flash, it’s gone.

His mom frowns, steps closer. “Dusty? Oh, you look pale. Hope you’re not coming down with something. Early night tonight, okay?”

“Yeah,” Dustin says. Blinks. “I’m fine. Just tired.”

-

He tells himself it’s a one-off.

Then it happens again—inside the hospital this time.

Steve opens a window in Eddie’s room before heading to the vending machine—just a crack. Barely anything.

But the cold is so intense that it takes Dustin’s breath away.

He hears the bats. Feels the pain in his foot, burning white-hot as he runs, he has to run. Eddie. Screaming. He has to get to him now or he’ll—he’ll—

Dustin shuts the window with such force that the pane rattles.

Eddie glances over from where he’s standing, right in front of the tiny mirror on the wall; he’s been wringing out his still damp hair with a clean T-shirt that Dustin highly suspects belongs to Steve, unless Eddie’s suddenly taken to owning a Hawkins Phys. Ed uniform.

“Woah, that’s the window shut, I guess,” Eddie says lightly. “You cold?”

“A bit,” Dustin says, hopes it comes out normal.

It must do, because Eddie just shrugs and goes back to the mirror, fiddling with his curls, and Dustin would usually give him so much shit for that, but his chest is tight, and although logically, he knows he’s sitting on the edge of the bed, he can still feel the dampness of the ground, the dirt under his nails, Eddie’s blood…

“Did you just close that?” Steve says, jerking his head towards the window with a bemused look.

“I live to piss you off,” Dustin says.

Eddie laughs.

“Yeah, it’s your special talent,” Steve shoots back, monotone, but he’s grinning as he throws a candy bar at Dustin’s head.

3 Musketeers.

Dustin isn’t hungry, not even for nougat.

But he tears the wrapper anyway, takes a sizeable bite just for the sake of appearances.

Steve is catching Eddie’s eye in the mirror, and Eddie’s smiling, looking at Steve’s reflection; and although Dustin can hardly hear what they’re saying through the thud of his own heartbeat, their joy is obvious without words.

Because it’s over. It’s all over.

Dustin’s not gonna be the one to ruin this for them.

He won’t.

[hainethehero]

The way they took out ALL the scenes that showed Steve's trauma😭😭😭😭😭 God why!

DID YALL KNOW THIS WAS THE ORIGINAL CATWS OPENING SCENE??????

[estrellami-1]

Don’t Let Go

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey, Steve. You doin’ alright?”

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

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

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

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

Eddie hums. “What? Sorry? What for?”

“You havin’a come out here.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“M’kay. Wanna bring Robin?”

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

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

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

“Okay. You ready to go then?”

“Yeah.” He doesn’t move.

“Stevie?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Eddie freezes. “No?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Steve blinks. “What would?”

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

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

“I do.”

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

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

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

Permanent Taglist:

@justforthedead89 @ilovecupcakesandtea @madigoround @bookbinderbitch @suddenlyinlove

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

[kitchen-spoon]

southern Nights

Pre Season 4 Steddie set Post Season 3:

After the mall fire Robin's parents take her out of Hawkins to go visit family in August so Steve is left to cope without her after spending nearly every day and night with her. So he turns to Eddie who he had been becoming friends with all summer leading up to the fire.

Eddie has to leave Hawkins in August too to go live out in Kentucky with his grandmother (Wayne's mom) at her farm until school starts back up again. He offers for Steve to come with him because he doesn't want to go alone and he knows Robin is leaving and doesn't want Steve to be alone.

Initially Steve being his stubborn self refuses but eventually he relents and agrees to come. They drive out together and once they are there Steve calls Robin Everynight after dinner while Eddie's grandma's cat Bruce sit in his lap and gets attention and pets.

It takes them about a week and a half to start fooling around together after all the tension they had been building at the start of the summer. It Happens for the first time after they smoke weed together on the porch and Eddie teases Steve about hogging the joint because he is spaced out and says "Never learn how to share baby?"

One Night Steve cuts Eddie’s because it was in his face all day and getting in the way and Eddie had been quietly grumbling about it at dinner. He does it at the kitchen table after dinner and its the first time they kiss without having sex. A few days later Eddie gives Steve a small stick & poke star in return.

Steve always insists on sleeping alone in the guest room even after they start fooling around. Eddie hears Steve’s screams when he has nightmares, he always waits until he hears Steve leave his room and go to the porch to check on him and sit with him.

Steve refuses to sleep with Eddie because he sleeps with a little stuffed lamb from his childhood and is embarrassed about it. It helps with his nightmares though. One night Eddie finds it and Steve gets really embarrassed and tries to hide it but Eddie doesn’t let him. They talk and Steve starts sharing a bed with Eddie and bringing the lamb (Cloud) with him. One night Steve falls asleep first and Eddie see’s how Steve rubs its ear against his lips to sleep.

Wayne comes down for the last week of their stay to help move his mom from the farm and back into her home for the winter.

One night Steve has a nightmare and wakes up where it turns into a panic attack. Eddie finds him kneeling on the lawn in front of the porch head in his hands rocking while he mumbles to himself barely breathing. It's when Wayne was coming so he pulls up and sees that and goes to Steve and recognises that it's PTSD. Steve is mumbling about a plan so Wayne plays along with it, assures him it worked and they are safe it's over.

While Wayne is there for the last week they try to be sneaky but he catches on and calls them out when he catches them being all sappy in the kitchen. Steve is cooking dinner and Eddie comes up behind him and wraps his arms around his waist and kisses him. Wayne *ahems* in the door frame and they split a part, Eddie is out to Wayne so he is more embarrassed but Steve is scared. Wayne is like calm down boy, I knew it the night I got here.

[unclewaynemunson]

There is thunder in our hearts

Eddie used to love thunderstorms. He loved it when he could feel the heavy electric tension in the air, when the skies got that dark shade of gray expanding over the horizon; he loved the anticipation of what was about to come. But most of all, he loved it when the clouds burst: the moment the skies broke open and the pouring rain, accompanied by the rolling thunder far away but swiftly coming closer, would sound like the opening chords to his favorite song. He loved running outside, standing in the dirt with his arms spread out wide, the taste of the water on his tongue and the rain washing away everything that didn't matter. He'd see other people sprinting from their cars to their houses and he would quietly laugh at them because they were missing out on the single most magical thing that nature had to offer.

Eddie used to love thunderstorms. Until that one time when the skies went gray and the thunder started roaring and all he could think about were bats crowding the air above him, long tails wrapping around his neck, claws and teeth tearing into his flesh, tears in Dustin's eyes...

He ran outside like he always did, hoping that the feeling would pass, hoping that the rain against his skin would remind him of exactly how alive he was; but no such thing happened. Wayne had to follow him into the storm and carry him back inside. He wrapped him in a blanket and made him a cup of hot cocoa and it took Eddie twenty minutes until he managed to stop crying and almost two days before he felt like himself again.

Ever since that happened, he stopped going outside during thunderstorms. Instead, he curls into himself now, as far away from the windows as possible. He plays his music at the loudest possible volume to not have to hear the thunder and he closes his eyes to not have to see the lightning. Sometimes, Wayne is there with him. He never asks, never pries; he simply keeps him company and hands him a blanket in case he feels the need to hide himself further away. He does what Wayne does best: letting Eddie know that he is safe by merely existing next to him, a quiet and calming presence who tells him stories in an attempt to distract him, his soft voice barely drowning out the sounds of the storm.

But Wayne isn't always there when a storm hits. He's often at the plant, or Eddie himself is at work, or with his friends. And it's fine. It isn't like that first time anymore, when he collapsed in the middle of a big muddy pool in front of the trailer and could see nothing but red skies or hear Dustin's screams ringing through his ears, the scent of decay filling up his nose until Wayne got to him and pulled him back into the present. It's not that intense anymore; he can blink those memories away and focus on the music or the voices around him instead. Even though it may still speed up his heartbeat and make his breathing uneven, he can keep functioning.

Or that's what he thought. Until he's in the car with Steve and a storm takes them by surprise and there's nowhere to hide; no way to get away from the window, to bury himself underneath a blanket under the pretense that he's cold, to do anything to take his attention away from it all. And maybe it's also because Steve is sitting right next to him: Steve, whose arms carried Eddie out of the Upside Down, the same arms that are now folded in front of his chest in the passenger seat of Eddie's van.

It's just heavy rain, at first; Eddie can handle rain, he's not a complete coward. But then he hears the rumbling thunder in the distance and his fists clench around the steering wheel and he almost forgets how to breathe. He starts pushing random buttons on the broken radio in the hope that it'll magically have repaired itself and start blasting Judas Priest to save him. Nothing happens, though. Of course not. And the rain only gets louder.

'Eddie,' says Steve, letting his name dance off his tongue in the last echoes of the thunder. Only a few months earlier, Eddie would've loved the sound of that, would have wanted to record the melody and play it on repeat forever.

'Hm?'

'Are you okay?'

Before Eddie can even start to answer that question, another deep rumble echoes through the skies while the rain starts beating even harder against the roof and the windows of his van.

'Eddie,' Steve repeats, more urgent this time. 'I need you stop driving. Right now.'

And Eddie immediately obeys.

'What's happening?' Steve asks as soon as they're standing still. His soft brown eyes wander over Eddie's face, attentive and worried.

'It's the goddamn storm, man,' Eddie explains in a choked voice.

Understanding dawns over Steve's features right away.

'Want me to drive you home?' he asks without missing a beat.

But Eddie shakes his head. 'I can't - can't get out. Of the car.' His mind takes him back to that moment when he collapsed in the middle of the trailer park - he can't do that again. Not anywhere, but certainly not here. With Steve.

'Okay, well, there's no way we're gonna keep driving like this,' says Steve. 'Let's wait it out, alright?' He doesn't talk to Eddie any differently, still seems practical as ever. Probably what years of experience with the craziest fucking supernatural shit does to a person, Eddie supposes. It's Steve at his core: act first, think later. Make sure everybody is – or feels – as safe as can be, the rest is secondary.

The thunder has come closer and a forked bolt of lightning flashes through the gray expanse of the sky. Eddie can't help but flinch at it.

Steve unbuckles his seatbelt and promptly starts climbing between the two front seats towards the back of the van. If Eddie was in any better mindset, he would probably have appreciated the view he is given much more.

'C'mon,' Steve says when he's sat on the ground, offering a hand through the two front seats. 'This seems like a good place to hide.'

Eddie has no choice but to take it. He ends up right next to Steve in the small space in front of the backseats, crouched down in a slightly uncomfortable position. Steve reaches further to the back to get the ratty old blanket that lies there and wraps it over both of them.

'Does this feel safer?'

Honestly, Eddie doesn't know. 'A little bit, I guess,' he mumbles, because that sort of feels like what the correct answer should be.

'You wanna talk about it?'

'Not really,' he admits.

'That's fine too,' Steve answers with a slight shrug. 'We can just sit here. Or do you want me to distract you?'

'I dunno.' It sounds quiet, with the way the big raindrops keep clattering onto the van. 'Wayne tells me stories, sometimes.'

''Bout what?'

'The olden days.' Eddie tries to use one of his dramatic voices, get things back to normal again, but the delivery doesn't land all too well. 'Shit he and my dad used to do. How my grandpa would get mad at them.' He pauses for a moment. 'Apparently my grandpa was scared of storms, too. And my dad. It runs in the family; that tends to happen when you're a farmer and a whole year worth of income can be destroyed by one single storm.'

'When I was younger,' Steve starts to tell, 'I was scared as shit of storms, too. I'd always make those huge pillow forts in the living room, put as many layers between me and the storm as I could.'

Eddie can picture it clear as day: a little version of the guy sitting next to him, with chubby cheeks and shorter hair, hauling a whole bunch of cushions and blankets around to make himself feel safe. It helps him take his mind off what's happening on the outside of the van.

'Sometimes my dad would crawl in there with me,' Steve continues. 'And he would wrap his arms all around me – like this – one more layer, y'know.' He shuffles to haul Eddie into his arms. They're warm against Eddie's own skin, and it is indeed comforting, so Eddie doesn't complain.

'Try to relax, okay?' Steve says. 'I'm right here, and I'll stay here with you for as long as you need. I won't let anything happen to you.' He tightens his grip and urges Eddie to let himself fall against Steve's chest. Eddie has no choice but to sway the way Steve wants him to and lands with his head right on top of Steve's heart. The fabric of his dark green polo is soft against Eddie's cheek and the sound of his heartbeat gets added to the symphony of the storm. He tries to focus solely on that heartbeat, complemented by Steve's breathing, Steve's voice – it makes it easier to drown out the sounds of the storm.

'I hate that this had to happen,' Eddie quietly admits. 'It used to be one of my favorite things in the world, standing outside in the pouring rain. Made me feel alive more than anything else.'

'It sucks,' Steve agrees. He raises one hand to put it on Eddie's head, softly stroking over his hair like he's a cat. 'After the first time we fought it,' he continues, 'when we, you know, pieced together what must've happened to Barb... I couldn't swim anymore. I was terrified of my own backyard. Nance helped me get through it, told me I should face my fears head on. She went to the library and got a whole bunch of books about phobias and traumas and kept talking to me about “exposure therapy.” I was skeptical about it at first, but it actually helped.'

Eddie chuckles darkly. 'Wanna know what happened when I tried to face this shit head on?'

'What?'

'I fucking lost it, man. Went out into the storm like I always did, and just – it was like I was back there. I lost my goddamned mind and Uncle Wayne had to pick up the pieces.'

Steve hand keeps stroking over Eddie's hair while he wraps the other one around Eddie's nervously fumbling fingers.

'We can try it together,' he says. 'We don't have to do it right now. Just... whenever you're ready. If you want to.'

Eddie nods. He isn't sure if he'll ever be ready, but at least doing it with Steve seems less daunting than doing it alone.

Another thunderclap, louder than any of the previous ones and accompanied by a bright flash of lightning, makes Eddie jump in Steve's arms.

'Try not to pay attention to it,' Steve says. 'It's gonna be over before you know it.' And then he starts humming. He even starts rocking Eddie in his arms. It should make him feel embarrassed, Eddie thinks, like he's a fucking child. But it doesn't. It helps him to let the sounds of the raging storm fade to background noise, finally taken over by the symphony that is Steve.

By the time the storm dies down, Eddie is pretty sure he must have fallen asleep at some point, because somehow he imagines that Steve presses a gentle kiss against his temple.

[sabbathbloodysabbeth]

Just going to repost because it’s one of my favorite works

Desire

Ao3 Link

Tw; Mentions of drug use/addiction, implied child abuse, strong themes of mental issues, mention of vomit (but not in detail)

Words; 6k

Summary; Eddie Munson finds himself under the influence and alone in Steve Harrington's bathroom. Not alone for the first time, but being in Steve Harrington's bathroom was definitely a first. Dabbling in his stash he comes to the realization that he doesn't want to become his father or go down the same path as him. Only eighteen, he's scared of disappointment and failing his uncle who has saved him from himself time after time again. Feeling like he is the only one who seems to not be mentally okay, Steve Harrington decides to stumble into his bathroom proving that there are others out there like him falling apart at the seams and barely keeping it together. He finds himself not only being comforted in his struggles he also finds himself comforting Steve who seems to be dealing with something far worse than Daddy issues.

Eddie doesn't mean to. One second he's in the thick of it, the center of the party as he hands out little baggies of drugs out to anyone who would sneak a crumpled up twenty in his hand. The next he finds himself in the bathroom, the wallpaper so ugly it hurts his eyes to the point he believes that's the reason he's throwing up. Not because of the drugs that were slowly pumping through his veins, causing his head to begin spinning in a bad way as the rush hits him.

He was unsure when he decided it would be a good idea to dabble in his own stash. Before, it had always been his number one rule not to finding any other drug dealer who did foolish. Now he was a hypocrite that craved for more then the drug. The hidden desire to be like the teenagers that had been swarming around him outside of this small bathroom. He wanted to be carefree not having to worry about bills, helping his uncle keep food on the table, or for one of these drug deals to suddenly go wrong and all that his uncle had been working for, for the past decade gone down the drain.

Eddie was still young, eighteen and finally in his senior year. Almost out of this hellhole known as Hawkins. He still had a chance to turn his life around, stop selling drugs or "experimenting" and get a more stable footing. He knows that Wayne would gladly get him a spot to work at in the factory but Eddie didn't want that life. He wanted something bigger. Something out of this world. He wanted to be like Ozzy, Dio, Tommy Lee, and Gene Simmons. Not like his father. Who could barely scrape enough money to keep a roof over their heads, and apart of Eddie understands that Al Munson needed to break the law to survive. Sell stolen cars for food. What Al Munson didn't have to do though was beat the shit out of Eddie whenever anything went wrong.

Drugs.

Drugs were the most stable thing in Eddie's life. Sure, Wayne was consistent but drugs have always been there since Eddie could remember. On the counters, in his pockets as he helped his father smuggle bags across neighborhoods, and even in his own system when things didn't feel right. Feel a bit down, people tell you to smoke weed. Solve all your issues. For a while it did. It helped Eddie float by on his own little cloud up until it didn't.

The longer Eddie listened to those people the more he realized that drugs were becoming the issue. Consuming him in ways that he's only heard from those who came to talk at school. This, this was going to be the last time. Eddie was determined on that. Though he had said that the last couple of times he's been like this. He needed help and he didn't know where to go. There was of course always Wayne, but he didn't want the man to look at him like he did his father. With pity, shame, and a lot of disappointment because Eddie should know better. Especially after what happened to his father.

He should but yet here he was, groaning he lifts his head up from the bowl. His eyes stay closed as he gags a bit more when the smell of toilet water hits his nostrils again. Throwing himself back from the stench, his head hits the wall. A soft thump, loud enough to gather attention if anyone was paying attention. That was unlikely as everyone was pretty drunk right now. Letting his head slack to the side a bit he lets his vision swim around him like a horoscope. He wondered if this was how flies saw the world. If so, he doesn't understand how they weren't constantly throwing up. Then again they did eat literal shit, so tunnel vision was most likely the least of their worries.

Squirming a bit, he fidgets with himself as he tilts his head back to look up at the light. His hair falls past his shoulders as he blinks lucidly, not processing the brightness of the bulb hurting his eyes as he giggles gently feeling the high set in. The warm feeling wraps itself around him like angel wings, protecting him from the darkness that lives inside of him. Numbing him enough for him to forget that he was currently at a party. In the bathroom of Steve Harringtons' house as he blacks in and out of reality. Fighting for control for a few minutes before giving in with a soft sigh. His body going lax as he gives up.

Time was always wonky when he was like this. Five minutes felt like an hour, a minute felt like twelve, and so on and on. So, he could not tell you how long he was in there for. Barely reacting when the door opens, not a surprise as he was too busy trying to hold his vomit in to remember on locking the door behind him. His reactions slow as he blinks startled as he sees an exhausted Steve Harrington walking in. Looking just as alarmed as Eddie felt.

Looking confused Steve hesitates. Not saying anything for a second as he stares at the other dumbly, like a deer in headlights. Before he flees into action, "Parties over, need to get out Munson." he says dully. The bags under his eyes were noticeable to Eddie who frowns as he tries to process what was going on. Moving he fights to stand up, unable to do so as he makes a soft whining noise. Eyes filling with irritation and embarrassment. The first crack in the dam of the great Munson flood. Everything starts to seep out uncontrollably as he tries to hold it in, save it for later. But it's too late as his body gives in to his needs and he's sobbing uncontrollably.

The high was not worth it anymore. It used to make him feel good far longer than this, and now he felt like shit. His hands shaking as he couldn't control his body. His brain streams a spew of anxious thoughts through his head. Wayne was going to kick him out if he found out. Eddies crying, and he doesn't even know the reason why. There had been so many instances when he kept his emotions bottled that he was not sure which one finally made him snap. Made him go crazy enough to cry like a little bitch in front of Steve Harrington.

He doesn't know what's happening and that's making everything seem far scarier than what it really was. He felt the other boy, who was only a year younger than him staring at him intently. Eddie felt like he was really living up to his nickname, a freak. A freak who was currently putting a complete stranger through a very uncomfortable encounter. Eddie was supposed to be an adult, yet here he was breaking down in front of someone that was legally still a child. For some reason that thought only makes him cry more. Eddie was barely a full year older than the other and he has yet to view himself as a child. The reality that his childhood was taken away from him because of drugs setting in as tears started to run down his cheeks. His eyelashes stick to his skin as he struggles to open his eyes from feeling so out of it and from crying so hard.

Time was fucking with him again, In the back of his head he knew that the whole encounter that was happening between him and the other boy was only a few seconds long. But the drugs were telling him it was much longer than that. He's pretty sure he was going through a mid-life crisis or something. He loses himself in his thoughts more as he realizes he's no better than his father. Selling drugs to those who have perfect lives is something that should be cherished but is only going to be destroyed by Eddie's doing. He's having a come to Jesus moment, as with in the next few seconds he makes the decision to no longer sell drugs to high schoolers. It's all going by so fast in his brain that he's not sure he's going to remember his promise in the morning.

Clap!

He blinks confused as two hands slap together in front of his face, a soft buzz clogging his ears from hearing anything but the muffled slap of skin. His eyes begin to regain focus as they stare back at Steve who is still staring at him carefully. As if he was on the verge of calling nine one one at any moment. Oh, God. Why did Eddie have the worst luck that always led him into situations like these. Covered in snot, tears, and possibly puke in front of the most popular boy of Hawkins?

"Hey... hey Munson." The boy's voice seeps through the fog. It barely does but it makes itself through, penetrating Eddie's brain enough for him to finally react to the other. Who looks like he's been trying to gather his attention for a minute now. Steve's eyebrows are furrowed up in concern as his hands stay at a safe distance from the other, but stays in Eddie's personal bubble just in case. In case of what Eddie wasn't sure.

Eddie blinks at the other, barely there as he frowns a bit as he feels his body moving up, almost on its own with Steve's help. Being led to the bathtub as Steve easily moves his legs in one by one. Moving and forcing him to sit down as Steve handles him with such care that he doesn't know what to do with himself.

"What-" He slurs a little bit, blinking as he tries to talk but it felt like peanut butter was in his mouth, preventing him from doing such a task. "What are you doing?" His words come together, creating one but the other seems to understand what he was trying to ask as Steve smiles sadly at him, revealing a crack in his well pieced together image. Revealing his true nature to Eddie who was broken and drowning in his own mess in this tub.

Eddies high. Eddie is plastered, not in reality but he can tell when someone is like him. Broken. Barely holding on with a fake smile that was far different then someone who had it together. Relief hits him as he realizes he's not the only one out there. Then guilt as he felt greedy for feeling relief at the sign of the other man's pain.

"Helping you man, don't want you to die in my bathroom," Steve says bluntly in an attempt to put that image back up that he didn't care about Eddie, but it was to late it had started to shatter a little. A glimpse of something dark seeping through that Eddie caught and wanted to see more of. And he didn't want to see the pieces that Steve has horribly glued together, not the image that has been up for years now. Seemingly destroyed out of nowhere.

Whatever it was that came through those cracks was dark, dark enough to trigger a morbid curiosity in Eddie. What could have possibly happened to Steve Harrington that made him mentally age up so fast? So fast that it gave Eddie whiplash as he could of sworn that just last month the other was looking down at people like him. Shoving teenagers against lockers and calling them queer for just being true to their authentic selfs. Now he was helping out one of those "queers" and it seemed to be a total one eighty personality wise. It just didn't make any sense. Someone didn't just change out of nowhere without something happening and Eddie wanted to know what that something was.

Eddie furrows his eyebrows a bit, confused as he wonders if he was misreading what the other was doing. The other genuinely seemed more worried about him then his bathroom, even if he was trying to make it not seem that way. Was Steve Harrington actually a decent human being? Something that Eddie had deemed unbelievable as his mouth opens trying to say something. Before he can say anything Steve is starting to move into action. Deciding it better to ignore Eddie from now on as his hands move to tug at the vest and leather coat that was wrapped around his body. Not giving the other enough time to protest.

Eddie makes some incomprehensible noise from the back of his throat as he hesitantly starts to let the other slide his clothes off his body. Leaving him in his shorts and his pants as Steve crouches down to his knees. Face scrunched up on a mission as he helps the other to the best of his ability. Only contradicting his goal of making Eddie think he didn't care.

"What are you doing?" Eddie asks, feeling dumb. He felt so out of control, he hated every second of it but another apart of him was enjoying every gentle touch the other gave him. Treating him as something that needed to be protected, not something that needed to be tough-end up like his father had. His body goes limp without his permission under the others hands, secretly blaming it on the drugs as he tilts his head back a little. A dopey smile on his face as he decides to just ride the high of being touched, something that didn't come often. "If you wanted to get me to strip so bad Harrington, just had to ask." He giggles gently under his breath trying to lighten the mood a bit. Blinking a few times as well, eyelids closing a few seconds to long causing him to miss the soft laugh coming from the other boys throat. Who thankfully found him amusing instead of annoying or worst disgusting.

"Well, I didn't think you would want to sleep in your own vomit and my concious would not feel right letting you go to bed like this." Steve admits as he leans over the tub like hes done this countless times. Possibly he has, with Tommy Hagan being his best friend Eddie wouldn't be to surprised. The way Steve handles himself and the vomit covered clothes only proves Eddie's hypothesis that he has done this before. The other barely even reacts to the smell or anything as he throws Eddie's Black Sabbath shirt off to the side. Leaving the metalhead shirtless and slouching forward a bit, looking at Steve with shocked adoration the longer he sits there.

Steves hands don't go any lower then his stomach, head tilting up and to the side to look at Eddie with a soft smile. Still a bit forced but more tired then anything as he asks. "Mind pulling your pants off for me? Don't want to make you feel uncomfortable."

Steves face is now a soft pink as he begins to lean against the side of the tub. Sleep obviously working its way into his body, the sight making Eddie feel bad about keeping him up later then what he had to.

Eddie doesn't argue and forces himself to focus on the task at hand, and lifts his hips up awkwardly and begins to shimmy his pants down. Groaning as he does, revealing his checkered boxers as he tries not to get any vomit on his skin. Holding the bunched up pants together once he's done and looks over at Steve for directions. Letting the other carefully take them from him, setting it on top of his shirt as he moves and stands up again. Moving to the shower and quickly turning it on cold, all of it spraying and soaking Eddie up immediately.

"Son of a Bitch!" Eddie's voice cracks as he yelps out. Hands flying up to shield his face a bit as he feels his curls stick to his skin, along with his boxers. One hand quickly moving down to shield his crotch just in case the cloth was see through. He shakes his head a bit, water going all over as he whines loudly. Struggling to get away from the freezing water. "Harrington! I thought we had something going on here!" He yelps out as he slides around the tub like a fish out of water. Faintly hearing Steve scolding him for getting water all over the place while also laughing a little.

When the water is finally shut off Eddie feels like he has more control over himself. Still not completely as he squirms around shivering, arms crossing over his chest as he tries to curl up in himself to regain some body heat. Melting when he feels Steves much warmer hand land on his shoulder, gathering his attention as he looks up with loose tears slipping from his eyes. Making his eyes seem bigger then what they were as he looks up seeing Steve standing above him holding a glass of water that seemed to be pulled out of thin air.

No words are said as Eddies hands shakily reach out and takes the glass from him. He carefully drinks half the glass before his wet hands slip and dumps the rest all over his chest. The more sober he becomes, the more embarrassed he feels as more tears form in his eyes. Close to crying again, only refraining when he feels Steves looming presence over his shoulders. One hand carefully holding his back as the other moves down and takes the glass from him before he can hurt himself anymore. Then proceeding to set the glass down on the edge of the tub, eyes never moving from Eddie.

"I'm going to go get you some warmer clothes to wear okay?" Steve says gently, moving and pulling a fuzzy blue towel off from a rack and moves to gently wrap it around Eddie like a blanket. Eddie nods dumbly as he relaxes back into the tub. Feeling the lasting effects of whatever he has in his system dwindling and exhaustion start to take over. Causing him to melt impossibly more into the tub. Waiting as minutes slowly start to feel like minutes again as he hears shuffling coming from the other room.

His head stays tilted to the side as he smiles gently when Steve stumbles in with a pile of clothes in his arms. Who was unable to choose something for Eddie. Sweaters, shirts, boxers and sweatpants in his arms as he quickly drops to his knees with a soft thud. Looking over at Eddie with wide hazel eyes that were full of anxiety. Like he was afraid of doing something wrong.

Eddie sniffles a little as he smiles brightly, "Give me the Harrington special." He says without much thought. "Whats the most comfortable thing to wear in that jock mess of yours?" He teases as he moves struggling to sit up. Wanting to catch what the other has chosen to bring him he notices a blue striped polo along with pair of normal grey sweatpants hidden in the mess of dark colors. He could see other comfy looking sweaters and pants but the polo and grey sweats stuck out to him the most.

Steve sets the other clothes off to the side, far as possible from the vomit covered ones as he gets the new ones situated on the toilet cover. As he moves them Eddie can see a brand new pair of boxers that still had the size sticker on them.

Steve then continues and moves forward to offer Eddie a hand, who takes it happily and pulls himself up a bit wobbly. Eddie felt frozen as small little cold chills race through him, forcing his body to shake even more.

There's a brief pause as they both hold each others hand, Steve wanting to make sure Eddie doesn't fall on his face. Who then pulls his hand from Steves to move it under his armpit. Crossing his arms as he begins to feel a bit self conscious about everything. About this situation that he's forced Steve to be in to the fact that he was currently shirtless in one of the most jacked athletes in Hawkins.

His eyes begins to go hazy, drifting away from reality for a moment. Regaining focus after a moment, coming back to to see that he was staring a hole into the others floor. After a moment of breathing, questions start to fill his brain again. Trying to understand what the others goal was here.

"Why... why are you helping me?" He asks again. Still bewildered as he lets his eyes move to look back up at the other with confusion. This time Steve's eyes aren't meeting his and Eddie feels like there was more going on here. Never moving his eyes away from the others short movements, not missing the way the other seemed to be forcing himself to do everything. Like he didn't even want to be moving at all. Joints seemingly stiff as his limbs move, and if Eddie would have to guess they were probably like that from exhaustion. The bags under the others eyes a strong give away to Eddie's deductive reasoning.

"Like I said, I don't want you to die in my bathroom." Steve answers a bit shakily. Now holding onto another towel as he puts on a fake smile for Eddie, who frowns more. Not believing the other, well he did. He didn't think the other actually wanted him to die but there was some other hidden reason in there as well. One that Steve seemed desperate to not share.

Now realizing that the towel he recieved before was now crumpled up at the bottom of the tub Eddie takes the towel from the other. Beginning to dry his hair first before slowly rubbing at his skin, careful to not agitate his skin like the towels at home did.

"Don't do that." Eddie bitterly snips at the other as he casually bends over a bit to dry his legs. He doesn't mean to, but he was currently at his lowest and he doesn't want Steve to pretend to be any better then Eddie mentally. Strangely that hurt more then when  the other acted better then him just because he was a jock and had more money. It was obvious to him that the other was not okay.

"What?" Steve asks confused, eyebrows knitting together to express a simple emotion that seemed to have so much effort on his part. Mouth falling open a bit as he squints at the other as if he was struggling to see and for all Eddie knew he was. Something he quickly takes note of, for what he was unsure.

"Pretend... pretending to be doing better then me. You look like you are also on your last thread and I think its bullshit. Bullshit, that youre trying to act like this whole situation is normal when it isn't. Its painfully obvious that I'm not okay and just looking at you it seems like you aren't either so stop. Stop pretending man," Eddies eyes are filling with tears again as his words slur together. Hands moving out a bit and aimlessly pointing at the other. Never poking him in the chest as he sways on his feet a little. Shaky breathes falling from his mouth as he finds that the longer he stands there the harder it was to keep his eyes open.

Steve's reaction is unreadable as he silently hands Eddie the blue polo once he seems to be done drying himself. Eddie takes the shirt and pulls it over his head. Looking down at his wet briefs and back up at Steve who was now looking away not saying a word, holding a dry pair of boxers in his left hand. Dangling between his fingers waiting for Eddie to take them.

His silence could easily be mistaken as him being pissed at Eddie, thats what Eddie thinks at first before he realizes this was who the other was when he wasn't pretending. Shoulders sagged, head hanging to look down at the floor as he no longer puts any effort in his movement. Like he was now floating, in a similar way Eddie was. No longer fighting to stay grounded where he was as Eddie gets changed. No more words are exchanged as Eddie steps out of the tub to slip the sweat pants chosen on. Nearly stumbling and falling on his face from the lack of control over his limbs.

Smiling a bit tense as Steve is quick to catch him. Well Eddie wouldn't describe it as catching, the other wasn't putting much effort into holding him. Just allowing him to lean against him as both stay impossibly close. The contact making both of them stiffen up and back up away from each other a little. Both of them stumbling over their own feet as their eyes lift up and hesitantly meet. A conversation beginning with no words. Both of them to exhausted to speak. A different exhaustion then being physically tired.

Steve moves his head a bit, slides his feet out of the bathroom once he opens the door. Eddie follows along, no longer looking at the other for guidance. Instead he floats along with the other as they both silently walk down the dark halls of the now very silent house. Eddie was unable to see Steve that well anymore so he wasn't able to see him react to the silence or the mess that seemed to explode all over the house. Not just downstairs.

He tags along as Steve enters a room, looking over at his shoulder at Eddie who moves in with him. Confusion written all over his face as he realizes that this ugly room was Steve's. Turning his head he looks over at Steve with questions behind his eyes. Questions that couldn't be answered nonverbally as Steve begins to stutter out words. The effort of talking seemed to make him more uncomfortable then the idea of having a complete stranger share a room with him.

"I- I thought it would be better if you sleep in here with me. I don't want you falling down the stairs because I put you in the guest room that's next to the stairs and you try going to the bathroom and whoops, you've broken your neck." Steve's starting to ramble anxiously now. "and the two other guest rooms are a mess. I haven't gotten a chance to clean them so theres stuff on the floors in there and I don't want you tripping when you are like this. Plus I don't want to leave you alone when you are not sober just in case you accidentally overdose or something."

The words are pooling out and swimming around Eddies head. None of the very obvious excuses sticking as Eddie simply nods deciding not to question the other anymore or else he was going to get a headache. Lets the other live behind another image as he moves and flops himself down on the bed. Letting the silence fall over them again as he accepts his fate of sharing a bed with Steve Harrington, who seems eager to have someone else with him.

Eddie turns his head a bit and watches the other curiously, the other starting his bed time routine when he realizes that Eddie was no longer going to question him. Steves shoulders have grown tense as he pins his curtains up against the wall allowing the moonlight to fall in and brighten the room up. Casting more shadows along the room that the other seemed to hate a lot as he turns a light on to see better. Moving and taking what seems to be a starwars night light and plugging it in. If it hadn't seem to be to much effort, Eddie might have laughed. But as he looks at the other more, really looks at him he decides that if he could laugh he wouldn't.

There was something very wrong with the boy and Eddie couldn't place what. His first guess was that the other was afraid of the dark. Watching intently as Steve moves around the room, avoiding any dark area that the light didn't meet. Now closer to his closet as his hands move and shut the doors, right before he is running a hand through his hair. A nervous fidget possibly. Now if Eddie wasn't high, and thinking logically he probably wouldn't want to share a room with the other. Actually he would be home right now.

Though apart of him was happy he was here as he notices that Steve seems to have grown frozen. Body stiff as he stares down at the floor, eyes glazed over again. He doesn't look like he's here in reality anymore and he was the sober one. Which now that Eddie thinks about it, is a smidge weird considering the fact the other had been the host of the party.

Eddie doesn't say anything, let's the other be until his concern starts to grow. The other could possibly be having a seizure, he has seen someone have one similar to this. Just staring off with out realizing it. Eddie wouldn't be shocked if the other had them, after being hit in the head so many times between sports, Jonathan Byers and Billy Hargroves fists.

Eddie forces his body up off the bed, hearing the loud creak of the bed that seems to trigger Steve back into the real world leading to a very understandable anxiety attack. Steve's body shakes, hands squeezed into pale fists and chest heaving forward and back as he struggles to breathe. Head tilted and looking over at Eddie like he wasn't real. Stepping back as his back hits the wall. He doesn't seem like hes fully there as Eddie moves closer.

Steves hands fly up in the air as he starts to plead something. Eddies gut drops as this wasn't normal for a seventeen year old to be doing. There was something terribly wrong and Eddie doesn't know if he can help.

"Steve, Steve!" He yells trying to get him to come back to him. The others tears were overwhelming Eddie and it was making Eddie uncomfortable. Watching someone who has been perfect his entire highschool career seemingly snapping. "Its me, Its Munson. We are in your room about to go to bed man." Eddie is trying his hardest not to yell again. Not enjoying the way the other flinches back. Reminding him of himself when he first moved in with Wayne.

Something was off and Eddie wasn't sure if he wanted to know what if it made the other look like that.

So afraid and lost.

Eddie doesn't move much closer to the other, staying in the spot he stood to afraid to trigger the other more. Steves body is spasming awkwardly as his eyes stay glossed over, the bags underr them growing bigger right under Eddies concerned watch. The other was shaking, breathing coming in gasps before Eddie says fuck it and stumbles forward. Regretting his decision of getting high. But if he hadn't he wouldn't be here right now. Moving and pulling the other into a hug.

They were both two complete strangers, gripping onto each other once they realized that this was something they both needed. Steves still shaking as he hides his face in Eddies shoulder. Eddie is melting and not trying to put armor up to toughen up for the other. Instead he melts, and gives in as they become a puddle of tears. Both not okay as they stay like that for who knows how long.

Steve pulling back as his eyes grow wide, he seems to be there more then what he had been. "I am so sorry." He stutters out.

Eddie smiles tightly at the other, trying to act cool. Trying to be the rock of whatever fucked up situation they were in. But after a moment of trying he decides to follow his advice from earlier and not pretend as his smile quickly drops. "No don't me." He says gently. On his knees now as his eyes look at the other with curiosity.

He was watching in real time as the other starts to rebuild his walls. Starts to pull back from Eddie, literally and figuratively as he stands. Looking anywhere but Eddie as he sniffles, rubbing his eyes a bit. Eddie's mouth opens to ask the other questions, a light noise leaving his throat before he snaps his mouth back shut when his eyes meet the others cold, dull eyes. If this wasn't a messed up situation Eddie possibly would have made a joke about being on his knees in front of Steve. But instead he forces himself up, letting the other drag him along whatever cloud that he has been living on all by himself. Blinking and one second he's standing at the closet, the next he is laying back in the others bed.

Ignoring the way the others body shake and it wasn't from being cold. The room was hotter then Texas's balls, Eddie could barely have the others sheets wrapped around him because of it. The lights now all off, with the exception of the night light. But by the others actions Eddie wouldn't be to surprised if the other didn't leave his lamp light on also most nights. From the way he was taking shaky breathes to the way he squirmed around uncomfortably Steve Harrington was afraid. Of what, was the unknown part to Eddie. A mystery.

Eddie was high trailer trash who couldn't even help his father when he needed him most, or himself as he drowns in emotions. How was he supposed to help Steve Harrington? He's lost in his thoughts for what seems like forever. He could slowly feel the effects of what he took dwindling, eyes growing heavy. He knew the other was still awake, his body was still shaking and he tapping his fingers against the sheets like the rhythm calmed him.

Eddie would blame it on the drugs in the morning when they wake up tangled together. But for now he doesn't care as he carefully shifts over to the left side of the bed. Feeling pity for the other and wanting to stop the bed from shaking so much. He gently wraps his arms around the other, moving before any reasonable thought could stop him and hides his face in the back of the others neck.

Steve doesn't say anything. He's seemed to be nonverbal again, but his body does stop shaking after a minute. Barely two as soft snores start to fall from the back of his throat. And apart of Eddie is relieved that he could help the other the way he helped him in the bathroom. Taking the moment to ground himself once more as he takes in the smell of cedar and smoke. Probably the others cologne.

Eddie feels like he's walking on thin ice as he moves his legs forward a bit. Letting himself relax knowing the other wasn't going to push him away. Wrapping his leg around his hip as he melts into the other more. Even though it was to hot for cuddling. In the back of his head he couldn't help but wonder what scared Steve Harrington so much he couldn't go to bed without shaking? Wondered if the boys kindness from earlier was a one hit wonder?

So many questions and concerns. Along with the anxious thoughts about telling Wayne about his not so little drug problem he begins to doze off. Breathing in and out as he passes out. Having the best night's sleep that he has had in a long time.

Authors Note; I am not going to lie this one shot took a lot out of me to write and is probably one of my proudest works. I purposely try not to write a whole lot about drugs because of personal issues but this one shot seemed like something I needed to write. And even though this isn't the most angstiest one shot that I could have written it was personally draining as I have felt a lot of what Eddie has in this oneshot. Apart of me wants to write more for this au but another part of me doesn't so I'm going to leave this up to the response I get from you guys :)

[withacapitalp]

How to Rehabilitate a Jock Part 19

Part One Link to ao3 Part 18.

Part Twenty

As always thank you to @stevethehairington and @thefreakandthehair for generally keeping my head on my shoulders and betaing everything I always throw at you guys ily ily ily

Step Nineteen: Sing a Song

“Are you sure about this Steve?” Claudia asked for the millionth time as Steve opened her coat and held it out in front of him with a patient smile. 

“I’m sure. Honest, Mrs. Henderson.” Steve said. He had gone through this exact song and dance with every parent except for Joyce and Hop, and Claudia was the final hold out. Truthfully he had expected Karen Wheeler or the Sinclairs to be the most unsure about leaving their sons at his house overnight, but a few small platitudes had been enough to get them to let go and go home. 

Well, a few platitudes and a bottle of wine to hit the road with. 

“Steven,” She immediately replied, a faux warning tone coloring her voice as she wagged her finger at him with a grumpy look in her eye. 

“Claudia,” Steve amended, still feeling that little awkwardness that he always had when he addressed any adult by their first name. He could practically hear his mother’s voice in his ear telling him off for being impolite. “It’s not a problem, and besides, they’re just going to sleep. Super easy.”

Steve wasn’t exactly sure if that was true, but he had hope. All six of his brats had been letting out big yawns as he had ushered them up the stairs a little while ago, and he hadn’t heard any shouting coming from upstairs yet. There was no way of knowing if the excitement of a sleepover would give them a second wind of some form, but even that would be short lived. 

Besides, Eddie had just left to drop off his friends with the promise of coming back soon, so the quicker he got the kids in bed, the better. 

“It’s not that I don’t trust you, dear, you know how grateful I am for everything you’ve done for Dusty and the others,” Claudia said, finally allowing Steve to help her into her coat, “I just can’t believe you don't get tired of having them all here so often. I mean, doesn't it exhaust you? I can barely handle the occasional playdate they have at my house!” 

“It does exhaust me,” Steve joked with a soft laugh, “but it’s also nice? A bit hard to explain, I guess.” 

“You’re starting to sound like a father,” Claudia teased, buttoning up her extremely bright pink coat., “You’ll make some girl very happy someday.” 

Steve laughed along because that was what was appropriate, but he couldn’t deny the weird pit in his stomach that was beginning to grow. A month ago he would have thought it was because of his breakup with Nancy and the prospect that he might never find someone he loved like her ever again. 

That made sense. 

But Steve could say with almost one hundred percent certainty that Nancy was nothing but a friend now. Someone important to him, but wholly platonic. He could also say that he still very much wanted to be a father. It was one of the things he wanted most in life.

So why was Claudia’s joke making him so uncomfortable? 

It made zero sense. There wasn’t any reason. Something just felt… wrong. 

Luckily their conversation appeared to be over. There were still the normal polite farewells and long goodbyes in the doorway, but that was all perfunctory. Steve could go through those motions without much thought, and before he knew it the front door shut and he was finally alone in his house once more. 

Thump. 

Mostly alone. 

“You shitheads better have your pajamas on and teeth brushed by the time I reach the top of these steps!” Steve called up from the bottom, standing still and relishing in the sudden flurry of activity that was coming from his bedroom. 

The kids weren’t even a bit frightened of him, but they still listened to him when they felt like it, and especially if he was doing something big like letting them all stay overnight so they could spend more time with El. It was almost novel, knowing they were going to actually do what he said with only minimal complaining. 

Steve waited one second longer before starting to climb the stairs, purposefully making his steps just a touch louder so he knew the kids could hear him approaching. He even made a show of slowly opening the door to his bedroom, only to be greeted by a truly miraculous sight. 

All six of them tucked tight into his bed, quiet and calm. Max, Lucas, and Will were even pretending to be asleep, just to really sell the bit. Max and Lucas weren’t doing too good, but Steve might’ve actually believed Will’s act if he didn’t know that Will always slept on his left, and not his right. 

“Look at that, turns out you can do as you’re told,” He said, putting his hands on his hips and biting his lip to avoid directly laughing at how good they were pretending to be. The ‘sleepers’ opened their eyes, and the others all relaxed at the easy going tone their babysitter was using. 

“Fuck you, Steve,” Mike grumbled, ever the contrarian. 

“I can still call your mom and dad to pick you up, Wheeler,” Steve threatened lightly, both of them knowing he would do no such thing. 

Still, it was enough to get Mike to back down, grumbling as he snuggled in tighter between Dustin and El. 

“How’d the plan go?” Dustin asked eagerly, leaning over his grumpy friend and jamming his elbow’s into Mike’s ribs, causing the other boy to snarl and try to push him off without success. 

“Pretty much perfect,” Steve sighed walking over and sitting on the edge of the bed, pulling at one of Max’s braids idly just to rile her up a little bit. “El should have no problem going to school next year.”

The kids immediately began to cheer and whoop, already excitedly planning all the things they would get to do together next year.

All except one. 

“What’s wrong Supergirl?” Steve asked softly, furrowing his brow at El’s stormy expression. “I thought this would make you happy.” 

That was the whole reason he had come up with this insane plan- he had wanted to make El happy. And yet, here she was, practically miserable. 

El sucked in one cheek, chewing on it in a move that was so reminiscent of Hopper it almost made Steve laugh. She looked just like her dad when he was deep in thought. 

“I am happy about being allowed to go to school,” El finally began, her words slow as she thought through the exact words she wanted to use. Steve waited patiently, knowing she would come to the words when she had them, or would ask for one that might help explain better. 

“I am… uncomfortable with lying. Friends don’t lie.”

Friends don’t lie. 

Steve wasn’t exactly sure who had taught that to these kids, but if he ever found out, he would not be responsible for what he did. 

Don’t lie. What a stupid thing to teach kids. In Steve’s opinion- honesty was overrated. There was nothing wrong with a white lie, or a big fat one, as long as it was for a good reason. What was the point in telling his mother that his dad was out with his secretary again? What sense was there in being truthful when Carol asked if the other girls thought she was mean? Saying those things just hurt everyone, Steve included. 

It was better to be smart, to be strategic with the truth, and hope for the best. He would lie to everyone around him, as long as it was what would keep them happiest. What they didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them, and actually, knowing would hurt more. 

Still, he couldn’t say that to them. Especially not to El of all people. The other kids barely understood; her black and white way of thinking wouldn’t be able to get it. Not yet. 

But then again, maybe it would be better if she never did.   

“Friends don’t lie, but friends do keep secrets,” Steve decided, hoping that would be enough. “We’re going to keep your secrets, so you can stay safe. Does that make sense?”

“Yes,” El said almost immediately, knowing how important her safety was to Steve. She paused, and Steve could practically see the wheels turning in her brain as she let his words truly sink in. 

Once she did she took a deep breath and turned back to him, making sure Steve was looking at her as she spoke. 

“But I still don’t like it? Does that make sense?” El asked hesitantly. 

“I don’t like it either,” Mike said, and this time Steve could tell he wasn’t just agreeing because it was El. Mike’s little glower had turned into a full blown scowl, and his arms flew around as his voice began to raise, “El saved the world. Twice. She’s a hero, not a monster!” 

No, she wasn’t a monster, and Steve would never want her to think of herself as one, but the world wasn’t so kind. Before he could even begin to try explaining that, the kids kept going. 

“It does kind of suck that I can’t tell my mom anything,” Max admitted, uncharacteristically quiet as she kept her eyes firmly on the blanket covering her legs. “I don’t care about telling Billy or Neil or anything, but my mom asks me about my nightmares, and I can’t tell her why I have them. I’ve never been good at keeping secrets from her.”

“My mom’s still bummed about Mews,” Dustin muttered. 

“My mom knows and it’s still hard to talk to her,” Will added on, looking far too old for just being twelve. 

They all looked old. It was like Steve could almost see the adults they would be someday far down the line. Adults with secrets to bear, and lies to tell, and too many things they would never be able to explain to the world around him. Things that their mothers would never be able to help them with.

Was that what he was now?

Steve had never even considered talking to his mother about everything they had been through. The thought hadn’t crossed his mind once. And now that he was thinking about it, he still couldn’t imagine a world where he would ever talk to his mom about any of this. 

… It was hard to recall the last time he had talked to his mom about anything real. 

“I know it sucks, but it’s not safe guys,” He said, focusing on the thing he could worry about and ignoring the panging ache in his heart. This wasn’t a time to think about his mommy issues. This was about the kids. 

“Yeah, being put in cuffs once was enough for me,” Lucas said, unconsciously rubbing at his wrists. “Not fun.”

“I do not want to go back to the lab. Secret’s are necessary,” El agreed, reaching over and tangling her fingers in Lucas’s, “but they suck.”

“Secrets suck a big fat one,” Dustin declared. 

El leaned back, quirking her head to the side. 

“A big fat what?” She asked, the absolute picture of innocence she was. 

There was a beat of quiet as they all registered exactly what she had just said, and then as a group they all began to laugh. Steve tried in vain to stifle his giggles, not wanting El to feel like she was being laughed at, but she was smiling too, pleased as punch to get her friends feeling happy again instead of sad. 

“I’ll explain it some other time, Elliegirl,” Steve promised, tugging the covers more securely around the brats as he did. “And you guys can always talk to me, you know that right? I’m not the same as your parents, but I’m here.” 

Some sleepy nods and yawns answered him, and Steve figured the conversation had reached its natural conclusion. But, just as he reached over to grab the lights, a quiet little voice broke through the silence. 

“... Who do you talk to?” 

Steve paused, his fingers still curled around the knob on his bedside lamp as he turned to give Will a curious look. 

“What?” 

“You said we can talk to you, but who do you talk to?” Will explained, a little nervous like always, but not backing down. 

No one. 

“Plenty of people. I’ve got my friends, and Nancy and Jonathan,” Steve replied, a little too cheerfully, trying to ignore the immediate response that had come to mind. 

“But you can’t talk to Eddie or the others about the upside down stuff, and you barely talk to Nancy and Jon,” Max argued, joining Will in staring Steve down now that he had considered the question, “so, who do you get to talk to about this, Steve?”

“Where’s all this coming from?” Steve asked, expertly maneuvering around the situation. He ruffled Dustin’s curls, finally free of his hat, poking him in between the eyes to add an extra annoyance. “I’m the one that worries about you brats, not the other way around.” 

“We are friends, Steve. Aren’t friends supposed to watch over each other?” El insisted. 

Steve opened his mouth but quickly shut it before he said something stupid like they weren’t friends or it didn’t work that way. 

But wasn’t that the truth?

The kids were friends with each other, Nancy was Mike’s sister, Jonathan was Will’s brother, Hopper and Joyce were the parents. Where did Steve fit in that equation? ‘Babysitter’ had been an easy thing to use as a placeholder, but how much longer could he say that? What place was Steve supposed to be in for them as they got older? He wasn’t their brother, but he couldn’t see a world where he fit as one of their friends. 

“You’re wrong,” Dustin grumbled, pulling Steve out of his head and back into the moment. 

“Excuse me?” Steve said, more than a little shocked. As far as he knew, El was the only one who could read minds, and he hadn’t said a word. 

And yet, they were all glaring at him, unhappy with whatever they had seen on his face. 

“How many times do we have to say you’re in the party?” Mike muttered, a heavy red blush on his cheeks as he burrowed deeper into the pillows to avoid looking at anyone. 

“Dumbass,” Max added, just to even things back out. 

A hot heavy warmth spread through Steve’s chest and he bit down the stupid smile that was 

threatening to break onto his face. Whatever he was, it didn’t matter. They cared, and that was what mattered. 

“If I need to, I’ll talk with you guys,” Steve offered, knowing deep in his bones that he would never do such a thing. 

“Promise?” Lucas murmured.

“Promise,” Steve lied with a soft, honey sweet voice, shutting off the light and letting the hallway lamp and the glow of the pool illuminate the room in a gentle cool tone. “Now it’s really time for bed.”

“What about Story and Song?” El asked. 

Steve raised his brows in surprise, reminded with a jolt that despite looking just the same, El wasn’t like the other kids. 

Story and Song was a little tradition Steve had started for the nights that Hopper had to work late, an easy way to get her to go to bed in an unfamiliar house without the comforting presence of her dad. He would read one of the short stories from his big book of Disney stories, sing her a song, and she would sleep until Hopper came to pick her up. It was sweet, but none of the other kids would have ever dared to ask for such a childish thing. They would want to act more grown up, more mature, always in a rush to grow up. 

El had no such qualms. 

A familiar storybook was being floated into his lap, and none of them, not even the boys, were protesting. In the blink of an eye, they weren’t old anymore, just kids who wanted to hear a story they already knew to help them fall asleep. 

“Which one do you guys want?” Steve asked, ignoring the lump that was starting to grow in his throat, flipping through the Disney storybook and feeling the worn edges against his fingertips. 

“Lady and the Tramp?” Dustin offered, seeing that Steve was already thumbing through that page. He turned to the beginning and rolled his neck getting into the mood to read, using the light from the pool outside as his guide. 

“Lady was a happy little dog. She lived in a big house with Jim Dear and Darling.”

By the time Steve’s index finger glossed along the last sentences of the story, most of the kids had dropped off. Will had fallen asleep almost immediately, with Dustin and Lucas tripping after him before too long. El had made a valiant attempt to stay up, but she was gone by the time Lady met the other dogs at the pound. 

Steve had just two hold outs left.

“G’night guys,” He said quietly, slowly sliding off of the bed and putting the book on the floor next to his bed. Mike turned over and ignored him, but Max sat up with a little glare. 

“You said we would get a song too,” Max said sleepily, rubbing at her eyes with both palms. 

“That’s being cheap, Harrington.”

Cheap? Was she actually serious?  

“You two… want me… to sing you a lullaby?” Steve asked in complete disbelief. El, he understood. She had no frame of reference, no way of knowing that she might be a little bit too old for things like this, but Max? 

Mike? 

“We just don’t think you can actually sing,” Mike said, his words punctuated by a ridiculously big yawn. 

“You gotta close your eyes then, and just listen,” Steve sighed, unwilling to argue this late at night. 

“Deal,” Max said, snuggling down into the bed.

Steve let his eyes fall shut, taking a long deep breath as he slowly lowered himself to the ground, putting his back against the bed and conveniently facing away from the kids. It wasn’t like he was embarrassed to sing, it would just be easier not to have to see them while he did it. 

But what should he sing? 

It had to be something soft, something easy. Something anyone would want to hear. 

The memory hit him like a ton of bricks. 

“Who could hate this song?” 

Steve had the answer. 

“Love of my life, you’ve hurt me…”

Tag List: Taglist: @paopaupaus @zerokrox-blog @surferboyzaza @whatever-is-a-good-name@minjintea @addelyin @5ammi90 @hagbaby420 @shinekocreator @bornonthesavage @starxlark @electrick-marionnett @resident-gay-bitch @ash-a-confused-enby @classicdinosaurdeathpose @valon-whomsttf @rotten-lil-goblin @thereindeerlady @love-ya-kash @kerlypride @sparkle-fiend @thefreakandthehair @flowercrowngods @milf-harrington @sadcanadianwinter @gothbat99 @hotcocoaharrington @henderdads @lightwoodbanethings @colorful565 @h0n3y-dw @craterbbox @sourw0lfs @lesliiieeeee @bidisastersworld @tinynebula @ravnlinn @bonescaro @mexmatch @cottagecoredreams @joruni @hellykelly @maegan1116 @farewell-wanderlvst @desertfern @due-to-the-fact-that-im-a-slut @anythingforourmoonyedits @eerielake @fandemonium-takes-its-toll @sidekick-hero

[steddierecs]

Disposable Heroes by mc_i_r

Word count: 37,902 (incomplete) / 3/4 Rating: M Trigger and content warnings: PTSD, drug use, suicidal thoughts, homophobia

Summary: When everything is said and done, when the world is slowly healing from fissures and creatures from hell clawing at its surface, there is an after. After, is when everyone tries to go back to normal, or find a new normal to get used to. After, is when there are new nightmares and new fears to deal with, to work through.

After, is when Steve Harrington realizes he is alone.

Or, a Steve Harrington character study about his trauma, sexuality, and the people that helped him through it.

[milf-harrington]

the overwhelming feeling of being watched in the dark

steddie | 2.3K | read on ao3

---

There was something under Steve Harrington’s bed. 

It hadn’t always been there– once upon a time, there’d been nothing but empty space between the bed-frame and the dark blue carpet lining his bedroom floor. Once upon a time, he’d sleep sprawled across his bed like it was bigger than it was, arms and legs dangling over the sides carelessly, no thoughts spared towards monsters that could be watching through the gap in the closet door. 

No thoughts spared towards monsters at all.

Until three years ago, when he found out one had apparently been running around in the woods behind his house. Of course, he found out about that little tidbit of information after he’d fought the thing off with a baseball bat that Jonathan Byers had stuck nails in. 

Curiously, in November of 1983, Steve developed a troublesome fear of lights.

After the shitshow at the Byers house, he couldn’t stand the quiet buzzing of the bulbs or the way adrenaline gripped his throat every time too many appliances made the lights pulse. Lights flipped on, or off , without warning threw him into fight or flight mode, one hand reaching for a weapon that wasn’t there. 

So instead he kept the lights off as often as he could, relearning the shape of his house in the dark, right up until Halloween of 1984. 

1984 brought junkyards, traversing an underground maze while concussed, and the chittering screech of dogs-that-weren’t-dogs. His hallway at night became a winding tunnel with the potential to fill with writhing, faceless, bodies whose heads peeled open like some sort of fucked up banana, and suddenly lights didn’t seem so bad. 

And then, like the universe just couldn’t help itself, 1985 left him with blood in his eyes and drugs in his blood and the chilling understanding that some very bad people had some very sensitive information about him and his friends. 

By his 4th brush with death-by-alternate-dimension, his new fear of the dark had become a downright hassle. Embarrassing and impossible to logic his way out of.

Steve was frozen in the doorway of his bedroom, watching Eddie take his rings off. He did this thing where he'd poke his top lip with the tip of his tongue, concentrating hard on twisting each bit of jewellery off before reaching forward to drop it onto Steve's fancy writing desk. They clattered against the wood, ringing sharply when they skimmed each other, and Steve was trying very hard to focus on all of that and not the sight of Eddie’s ankles exposed to the underside of his bed. 

A grown man could fit under there and Steve knew that because sometimes he hid under his bed when the world was too much. 

Eddie looked over his shoulders, eyebrow cocked somewhat playfully. He was always some level of playful, like he didn't know how to exist in the world without turning it into a game. “You planning on standing there all night?”

Steve’s eyes dropped from his face to the space between the carpet and the bed-frame. A man could fit under there. Someone who knew his name and had his keys because his pockets had been emptied when he and Robin had been captured. 

He swallowed, trying to ignore it, and looked back to find that Eddie’s expression had softened into something else. Something concerned. “Stevie?”

There’s someone under the bed , he wanted to say. Even if the logic wasn’t foolproof, the connection had already been made in his head and there was no thinking his way out of it. Someone could fit under there, so someone had fit under there and now if Steve turned off the light they were both going to die. 

He glanced at the light switch, sitting innocently by his shoulder, and a cold panic coiled tight in his stomach. 

“You can keep the light on.” Eddie offered, gently, fiddling with his hair. “I’m not going to judge you man, I’ve needed the bathroom light on since I was a kid. And after the shit you’ve seen?” He blew air through his lips, cutting a hand through the air. 

And Steve knew that, had been there on some of those nights. The ones where Eddie kept his bedroom door open because sometimes the kid that still existed in his brain got scared of things that hadn’t happened in over a decade. 

But it didn’t work the same for Steve. After so many years of not being afraid, of having no reason to be, he still found it almost impossible to sleep without total darkness. Like the damaged part of his brain was ringing alarm bells, but the older bits still recognised the safety in the shadows.

“It’s not that.” Steve admitted, crossing his arms over his chest and feeling childish. There’s someone under the bed, he wanted to say. Could feel the words squeezing his throat like tails and vines and the hands trying to hurt. If I turn the lights off I don’t know what will happen.

God, his bat was under there– the one with the nails driven through it, crooked and rusted with old blood. Whoever was under there probably already had their hands wrapped around it, waiting for the cover of dark to use it.

There were lots of things under Steve’s bed. They weren’t always there at the same time, but the possibility of them was burned into the wooden slats holding his mattress up.

The Soviets had known his full name. 

There was a lot you could find out just by knowing something like that, especially with a name like Harrington in a town like Hawkins. And yeah, Starcourt had burned down, half the base blown up, but there had been survivors because some of them had dragged Hopper off to Russia. 

Which means there were still people out there who might know his name.

Most of Steve’s nightmares were set in that base. 

Eddie was looking more worried the longer Steve went without saying anything, just standing next to the light switch and not doing anything. He bit the inside of his cheek, cracking the knuckles on one hand to assure his friend that he wasn’t being Vecna’d or anything.

He should check.

He’d probably look like a fucking weirdo but there was something under the fucking bed and there would be until he could make sure there wasn’t. It was a reckless sort of certainty that burned through his stomach, tight and cold around his throat. 

---

read the rest on ao3 'cause i didn't wanna post the full thing on here

[rainbowsuitcase]

Consider Steve Rogers who's always cold. Who wears layers upon layers of long sleeves and hoodies and sweaters, but it doesn't help.

Who washes under scalding hot water and his skin is red, itchy, and still he shivers.

Who sleeps under several blankets even in the summer heat and wakes up sweaty but freezing.

Consider Steve Rogers who can't get warm, because the cold he feels isn't physical.

Consider Steve Rogers who spent almost seventy years in the ice, who feels that his bones are still frozen and that's why he'll never feel warm again. Because the ice is a part of him now, a part of his body, a part of his soul.

[16woodsequ]

Please enjoy these memes I made