#Stranger Things post S3

[onearmedlegend]

'Cause nobody wants to go it on their own

And everyone wants to know they're not alone

There's somebody else that feels the same somewhere

There's gotta be somebody for me out there

~GOTTA BE SOMEBODY BY NICKELBACK~

Billy was beyond sick and tired of trying to find someone. He had a person back in California, but knowing that it would come tearing down eventually already put a damper in the relationship. It was just a matter of seeing who’d break down first and cut the other loose.

Turns out Neil was the catalyst.

Trey was always a hopeless romantic; he loved giving roses and kisses on the knuckles at first greetings. It was nice to be loved after a long day of being pushed around by his father.

He also loved to write Billy letters. Pages and pages worth of declaring his undying love. Some of them were poems Billy swore could have been made into love songs.

And Billy kept those letters. They were sweet. He’d turn on the light after everyone was asleep and reread them.

One night, he was so tired that he fell asleep reading them. So, he didn’t hide them in time for Neil to come bursting into his room with sweat already falling down his face.

Panic and cold set in before Billy realized Neil was staring at five love letters, from a boy, sprawled along his bed covers.

With a huff, Neil turned around, opened Billy’s door, and stated, “Pack up.”

A week later, they were out of the house and trekking towards Hawkins, Indiana.

It was utter bullshit, and everyone else knew it. Max didn’t say goodbye to her father, Susan didn’t get to have a last meal with her girlfriends, and Billy couldn’t apologize to Trey and give him a goodbye kiss.

He wasn’t ever going to find someone like that again.

Neil pulled Billy aside before the first day of school, grip tight on his shoulder.

“Don’t fuck this up.”

Billy gulped. “Yes, sir.”

He patted him on that same pained shoulder and grinned maliciously. “Good, now go take Maxine to school.”

He tried. He tried, okay? Girls would bat their eyes at him and slap his arm playfully. They’d chew their gum and wink, hoping he’d follow them around. Or they would think he smiled too lovingly at them, and they’d prance behind him.

That stupid Steve Harrington came into Algebra 10 minutes late.

Billy shouldn’t have looked up, because then he wouldn’t have seen that shine in Harrington’s eye or that charm in his smile.

Harrington took his seat in the front. Then he proceeded to spend the entire class time cracking one-liners at the teacher. And this got the rest of the class to giggle at his will.

Billy mentally punched himself.

Max went missing. Neil told him to go find her; she was with Harrington. And three other boys her age. Nope.

He took his fight out on Harrington. If Billy was to feel pain, then he’d give it to the guy that reminded him of what he abandoned back in Cali.

Months went by, and the two didn’t talk. Billy knew when he walked by Steve Harrington in the hallways based on his shiny rich shoes.

They glared and nodded at The Palace parking lot. Turning up his music was the only way to forget Harrington was two spots down.

Billy would drop Max off at the movies instead of going in with her, especially because Harrington was to be their residential babysitter for the night.

Except one night, Neil is out late with Susan. Some dinner with his coworkers.

Billy didn’t hear much.

But Max was out at a movie with those nerds she spends all of her breathing time on. Billy decided to take a nap. He forgot to set an alarm, so when the doorbell rang and woke him up, he ran downstairs and ripped the door open in record time.

Max hit his shoulder as she walked inside. Harrington was with her. Billy choked on his spit when their eyes met.

Steve cleared his throat and pointed his thumb over his shoulder. “Movie was over, and I drove her back.”

“I see that.” Billy could tell he wanted to say something, and he admitted it—so did he. But where do you start with an apology for almost beating someone to death.

“Well, see you.”

“Whatever.”

Billy slammed the door in Harrington’s face.

That was how things usually ran. Next semester started, and they barely saw each other once basketball ended. Billy didn’t mind.

At first.

Billy missed having stare-downs. He missed giving Harrington a nudge when they saw each other around town with the kids. He missed shoving the guy around. He missed the actual half-conversations they’d managed to have.

What the hell is this.

Then Harrington graduated. Then Billy felt like his senior year was going to be boring as fuck.

Billy saw him at Scoops Ahoy, from afar. He never wanted to get too close. He wanted to apologize officially for his actions.

He couldn’t figure out what to say, though. So, he pulled a paper out from the back of his notebook and started writing.

Harrington,

I’m sorry I beat your face in. I was stupid and it was stupid and this is stupid.

Billy groaned and crumpled up the paper. He rubbed his face repeatedly, creating a rough red burn.

What do you say.

Then the summer happened. He was possessed by some creature and killed people. He even tried to kill the thing himself by standing up to it once and for all. Then it would kill him. Then he’d get redemption for himself.

He felt good about seeing that Max lived. Those other stupid kids. And Harrington. Thank God.

Yeah, he felt good about dying then. But he felt sad. He wanted to hang out with his sister and make up for the shit he pulled these last two years. Hell, the whole time they’ve known each other.

“I’m sorry,” he choked out.

Then he died.

Then he woke up.

A monitor was beeping at his side. His vision was blurry, but as he blinked it cleared up. The lights were blinding, Jesus.

What the hell. Where the hell. When the hell.

A nurse walked into the room with a plastered fake smile. But she asked how he was feeling.

Billy thought he said, “Who the fuck are you?”

What he actually said was.

Nothing.

People started coming in. Doctors, nurses, scientists? Everyone wanted to know what he remembered; what he saw, heard, smelt?

They wanted swabs of his spit for testing. He had to piss in a cup for testing, what the hell. After they were done picking and prodding him, an older man walked in.

He had a gravelly voice, good sense of humor, and something of a caring nature.

“Doctor Owens. How are we doing, kid?”

Billy glared.

“Ah, fantastic. Well, William, we’re going to keep you in here for a couple weeks. We good with that?”

Billy glared harder.

Doctor Owens chuckled and left the room.

Max came in a couple days after. Guess word got around. She ran in and hugged him tightly, apologizing for God knows what.

She pulled away, waiting for him to say something. Billy just smiled and waved her off.

“You can’t talk?”

Billy shrugged.

They spent a good, long time being in each other’s presence. A nurse brought in a notebook for him to communicate with everyone. So, Max would ask him how he was. Billy would draw a shit with flies. She would ask him when he gets out, and Billy would draw NEVER.

Max wasn’t pleased. She went home, but she promised she’d be in the next week or so.

The Chief came in. Asked how he was doing. Billy wrote, NOT GOOD. TIRED. The Chief nodded and took off his hat.

“Understandable. Did they tell you what happened?”

Billy shook his head.

The Chief sighed, took a seat, and explained what Billy wanted to be a nightmare.

The Robin girl came in. She had a box in her arms, so she dropped it on the ground. She folded her arms and bit her lip.

“How’s the bod?”

Billy snarled and wrote, FUCK OFF.

“So, it’s awful. Got it. Anyway. Brought you some books.”

She pulled out the Lord of the Rings trilogy, and Billy’s eyes widened. She laughed and placed them beside the bed on the drawer.

“Want me to read them to you?”

Billy ripped a piece of paper, crumpled it, and threw it at her.

She cackled as she waved goodbye.

Mrs. Byers came in. She brought in food. She winked and patted Billy’s hand.

“I was told by a little sibling that you liked lemon bars.”

Billy never loved his sister more. The thought freaked him out, but he was too busy stuffing his face with those dessert pieces.

Mrs. Byers clicked her teeth. “How are you, sweetie?”

Billy sighed, not wanting to answer the question anymore. But he grabbed his notebook and wrote, FINE.

Mrs. Byers definitely knew he wasn’t fine. But she didn’t push it. She just grabbed a lemon bar and held his forearm.

It was comforting.

El came in. She sat beside him, glaring. He glared back.

“You’re not good.”

Billy tried to laugh, but it was wheezy.

He knew he wasn’t a good person.

Not with how he left Trey without another word and came here to the middle of nowhere. He didn’t even send him a letter back.

Not of how much torture he put Max through all these years, especially these last two.

Not of Sinclair when he thought he was bad for Max and caused mayhem. Kid didn’t do anything wrong, Billy knows that.

He didn’t need to be reminded of beating Harrington, almost killing him last year. He wasn’t doing anything, and Billy thought he ruined everything.

Not of all the people of Hawkins when he was possessed and couldn’t fight it. All the confusion when he led them to that drasted place. Their screams when they were tied up.

He didn’t need to be told by a little girl that he almost fed to a large creature. A creature that would have literally eaten her alive.

He wrote, I KNOW. I’M A BAD PERSON.

El looked at his note and shook her head. “No, your body. It’s hurt. You’re tired. Have you rested?”

Billy laughed wheezier, and his coughs could be heard down the hallway.

Max came in that Friday.

Was it Friday. Jesus. What day was it anyway.

She brought in a deck of cards. For Solitaire, Black Ball, Go Fish. Just to keep him occupied in the middle of all the passing doctors to wear him out.

“Have you seen anybody else besides me?”

He nodded and wrote, POLICE CHIEF. ROBIN CHICK. MRS. BYERS. EL GIRL.

Max nodded. “Steve?”

Billy furrowed his brows and shook his head quickly.

“He hasn’t? He’s been wanting to check up on you.”

WHY.

Max shrugged. “He wants to thank you. And between you and me, I think he needs a guy to talk to.”

Harrington came on Saturday.

He looked like a literal kicked puppy; big brown eyes with a swollen purple bruise on the left. Fuck.

He took a chair and scooted it towards Billy. He sat down, stared at the wires hooked up to Billy, and opened his mouth.

Billy glared.

“Okay, I won’t ask you how you’re doing then.”

Billy let out a long, exasperated sigh. He took his notebook.

WHAT HAPPENED TO YOUR EYE.

“Oh, this.” Harrington laughed. “Russians.”

REALLY.

“Really. They got mean right hooks. That, and good poison to puke off of.” He laughed harder. “It was one hell of a high, though.”

Billy nodded and looked at his own hands. He didn’t know what to do with them. He didn’t want to look at Harrington and want him.

Because why would he want Billy?

Harrington bit his lip and tapped his feet on the ground. “Hey, man. I wanted to thank you for saving us.”

Billy looked at the window, away from Harrington. Harrington’s hand squeezed Billy’s arm. Billy ripped his hand off, shook his head, and tried to face away from the guy he knew he’d love if he knew him more.

“Okay, I get it. You don’t think you deserve this.”

Billy felt tears slip from his eyes.

“But I say that you do. The kids say. Your sister. El. Hell, if the whole world knew, they would say, too.”

Billy wrote in his notebook. I WANTED TO DIE. I WAS READY.

Steve sighed. “I know. But—”

Billy glared over his shoulder. Harrington saw how red his eyes were.

“Do you want me to leave you alone?”

NO.

“Okay, good. Because I don’t want to go home.”

WHY.

“It’s too quiet there.”

They turned on the TV and watched it until the sun set. The nurse had come by for the night round and saw Harrington passed out in the chair. She almost tapped him on the shoulder, but stopped once she saw how Billy looked at him.

He didn’t want Harrington to go. He looked at the nurse and shook his head. She nodded and grabbed a blanket from the wardrobe they had set up by the door.

She made sure his medicine was replaced and running, tucked in his feet and poofed his pillows, and bid him goodnight. He waved at her with a gracious smile.

Steve finally looked peaceful when he slept. He looked like Sleeping Beauty, and that made Billy chortle.

He took out his notebook after a long time of staring. He started writing an apology.

Harrington,

I’m sorry for everything I ever put you through. I was an awful person. Hell, I probably still am.

My point is, I took so much of my anger out on you, and that wasn’t fair. I was so angry at how careless you were. Are.

But you care so much about everyone around you. The kids love you. Their parents love you. I think even that Byers dude with your ex loves you, too. That Buckley girl definitely loves you; you’re probably her best friend. I know her in school, she doesn’t have many friends to talk to.

Anyway, I appreciate all of what you’ve done with Max. You’re her second older brother. You’re doing what it’s hard for me to do. I’ll get there, I promise. Once I get out of that house.

Trey was my first love. He was amazing, funny, and charming. I loved him, I think. But I left him behind and I regret it.

Billy sighed. The pencil danced above the paper for a second. Then, he wrote the most heartfelt, honest words he’s said in years.

I’m not a good person. I know that. I want to be better, and I’m going to try. For the kids, for Max, and for you. Especially for you.

Because I want to love you. I want to take you out and dance with you. I want to kiss you on your doorstep and hope that you’ll kiss me back.

I understand that it will take time, and I want you to know that I want to wait. I can wait.

And I promise that I will love you.

Billy’s hands shook as he finished the letter. He looked at it once over before folding it and placing it on top of the Lord of the Rings.

He’ll give it to him tomorrow.

[sp0o0kylights]

Wayne takes in a Beat to Shit Steve Harrington after Starcourt as n Owed Favor to Hopper Part 4

Part Three: link

First Chapter (parts 1-3 on tumblr) on A03: Link

The kid was madder than a wet hen.

Just as slippery as one too, when he got like this--music pulsing like a living thing to signal all his rage and upset. 

Not like Wayne hadn’t expected it. 

He just wished it wasn’t quite so damn loud. 

The music had started up almost immediately after Eddie had stormed to his room, startling Steve awake and nearly making Wayne curse for it.

Normally it was a good thing--music meant Eds was willing to listen instead of heading for the hills.  

Normally, they didn't have a house guest who looked like he'd gone ten rounds with a bear.

They had a routine for this, was the thing and the music was a key part of it. It worked all the edges off for Wayne, and he'd long figured out that about thirty minutes was a the perfect length of time for Eddie to stew before he could actually talk things through.

Given the hand Harrington put to his forehead, Wayne wasn't eager to give him that thirty minutes.

Not when Steve deserved little peace he could have.

Unfortunately, so did Eds. 

Still.

 Strutting through the door and demanding to talk right now was a bad move and so, with a sympathetic look given to Steve, Wayne did what he did best

Gave space.

Let Eddie rage, as Wayne got up and shuffled about the kitchen.

Pulled out the soft earplugs he pretended weren’t there for Eds to steal (playing that damn loud guitar all the time could not be good for his ears) and offered them to Steve, before making two cups of what Wayne privately thought was the Munson “chitchat” drink. 

One cup of hot water, one packet swiss miss, a small amount of maple syrup drizzled in, topped with little marshmallows they reserved for these types of situations. 

Wayne took his time with it, thinking through what he wanted to say. 

‘I understand that this is a screen door on a submarine kind of situation...’ 

Nope. 

‘Son I know you hate listening to anyone for anything but this is serious...’ 

Absolutely not--that would end up with the boy bolting for sure. 

‘Ed’s, I love you but could we please turn Ozzy off while we talk? That man wails louder than any damn cat I have ever met.’

That one was purely self indulgent, mostly because the wall was starting to shake. 

Wayne put the finishing touches on the cocoa before staring at both of them. 

Perhaps if he stared the Garfield mug in its eyes hard enough, the right words would come through. 

They did not.

He kept trying, standing there long enough for the cocoa to reasonably have cooled and for Eddie’s song to flip over to something with more screaming in it than singing. 

Wayne supposed that this was the hardest part of being a parent. You just didn’t get to have the magical one liner. The right thing to say at just the right time.  

The joke that would ease all the tension and let things progress forward nice and easy.

Instead, you got to fumble your way through the dark with a flashlight up your ass and hope you were going in the right-ish direction. Ideally without making things worse. 

Wayne was here though, and that had to count for something. 

(Knew it counted for something--because Eddie was still here. 

They had cleared hurdles far higher than this when it came to trust. They’d get through this too, come what may. 

Steve too.)

“Can I just ask,” Eddie started, aggressive as always when Wayne finally gave in and entered his room, feeling all sorts of awful for the migraine Steve had to have, “what the absolute fuck is happening?” 

Sure as fire he was sitting on his bed, leg bouncing a mile a minute.

An unlit cigarette hung between two fingers, looking a little chewed on, but otherwise undisturbed--as it should be, because one of Wayne’s few rules was that smoke stayed outside the house. 

“You could.” Wayne said loudly but agreeably, as he turned himself around and dropped down next to his kid.  

Held out the Garfield mug, and was happy when it was taken from him. 

“Figured you might have other things to say, though.” 

Likely a lot of things. 

It was as good an opening as any, and his kid didn’t disappoint, launching right to it. 

“Why is he here and not at a hospital?”

 ‘Here’ was punctuated by Ed’s hand winging towards the door, and while it wasn’t the righteous fury Wayne expected, it was at least, an easy answer to give. 

“Steve has some people looking for him. Bad people. Hospital makes him an easy target.” 

Wayne was still talking loud. Could only hear Eddie himself because he was looking at the kid’s lips more than he was actually hearing his voice. 

Eddie took that in, swallowing it about as well as he’d swallowed anything he hadn’t liked. 

And thank the stars above, he finally reached a hand out and turned the music down. Not a lot--Steve wouldn’t be able to hear them over all this--but enough that Wayne didn’t have to struggle. 

“We’re hiding him from the cops now?!” Ed’s spat. 

“Cops know he’s here. Hopper’s the one who asked me to take him.” Wayne reminded him, because it was the truth. 

Not the full truth, but given how Ed’s pissed off half the local PD on a good day, Wayne absolutely did not want to see his nephew take on Federal Agents.

(Particularly not the kind who were going ‘round killing kids.) 

“So--what?” Eddie yanked hard on his hair, a gesture that looked less intentional and more like he was trying to fight his own anger down. “Hopper just called you up and said ‘Hey, we had a whoopsie with the rich kid, the hospital’s not safe anymore. Can we stash him with you for a few days?” 

Wayne nodded once, slow-like. 

Always remembered how too fast movements had made Eddie flinch and jerk back when was littler, and given the way Steve was looking, figured it was a good time to be cautious again. 

“He did.”

“And you just--agreed? Just like that!?” 

“I did.” 

He pretended not to see Eddie boggle at him at the simple admission, so furious that he seemed to struggle for words when he normally had too many to say. 

Wayne took advantage. 

“We did talk a bit more than that, I’ll admit.”

Ed’s scoffed. “About the weather I’m sure.” 

“‘Bout trust.” 

Eddie blinked at that. 

“Trust.” He echoed flatly. 

“What have I always told you? People like to ask you to trust them, but you they don’t get to have it until--” 

“They provide proof or a reason.” Eddie finished with an eyeroll. “So which did Hopper provide then?”

Wayne took a noisy sip of his coca. Smacked his lips a little before saying: “Both.” 

Didn’t bother to say anything else, because he knew Eddie would finish the thought for him. 

“One of them was me, wasn’t it.” 

Eds didn’t say it like a question, but Wayne hummed in agreement anyway. 

He wasn’t gonna shame his boy, but he wasn’t gonna sugar coat Eddie’s involvement in this either. Not when he’d already admitted that was half the reason Hopper had gone to Wayne to begin with. 

“No one is expecting Steve to be here.” He said, seeing the chance to hammer home the most important part of this entire shitshow. “So long as no one finds out he’s here, he’ll be safe. Everyone will be safe.” 

Steve from the Feds who were hunting him for while he was busy being involved in shit he couldn’t control and Eddie because he had a mouth that most people didn’t like. 

Not small town people anyway, and absolutely not authority figures with guns. 

“Who’s even after him?” Eddie was theatrical as always, hands waving away as he talked. “Did he make a deal with the mob? Piss off some other rich guy? I know it’s not anything drug related, I’d have heard about it by now.” 

After years of experience, Wayne knew exactly how far to lean away to stay out of range, too used to his nephew talking with his entire body.

“That’s his story to tell ya, Ed’s. It ain’t mine. Same way it ain’t my place to tell him your story.” 

That at least got the boy to think for a minute. Put down that frustration he carried with him all the time, and use the brain they both knew he had. 

“How long is he staying here?”

Wayne shrugged. “Don’t know.” 

Eddie sighed and mockingly mimicked Wayne, taking an obnoxious slurp of his cocoa. “The neighbors are going to notice if he’s here more than a few days. The trailer park isn’t exactly big.” 

“They didn’t notice that time you decided to make fireballs with the cooking spray and about blew up half the driveway. Don’t think they’re gonna notice someone being quiet in the house.” 

Eddie snorted, and probably rolled his eyes again, not that Wayne could see it given the kid was looking into his own mug as he thought it all through. 

Wayne sat with him as he processed. 

Eds worked at his own pace with things, and while life at large might be against that, Wayne was happy to let him do it. Found it easier that way, then trying to poke and prod and force him like so many father figures did. 

Wayne’s patience was rewarded not even a full minute later, when Eddie turned to him and asked; 

“What if he finds out?”  

This in a quieter voice. An unsure one--words and body hunching in a way unlike the Eddie the world outside knew, but very much like the little boy Wayne had brought inside his home. 

It took Wayne  a moment to connect the dots--he’d been speaking out of the place parents and authority figures often do, and in doing so hadn’t thought much of the fact his nephew had a real secret. 

The kind small town minds didn’t like--and would kill him over. 

This all wasn’t about Wayne taking in Steve, he realized abruptly.  It was that Steve being here meant Eddie couldn’t be himself. 

Could not relax in a place he was accepted for who he was, because Wayne knew and made sure Eddie understood he was wanted here, had a place here, regardless of who he loved. 

Now, Wayne had gone and removed it.

‘Shit.’ 

“He won’t.” Wayne said. 

Knew that wasn’t enough, and so, promised: “But if he does, I’ll make sure he understands his safety here relies on your own.” 

Ed’s chin jerked in a nod, the two of them sitting in silence for a moment before the boy did as he often did when he wanted a hug but felt too awkward to ask for one, and tipped himself into Wayne’s side. 

“Thanks old man.” Eddie whispered into his shoulder and not for the first time, Wayne wished things were easier for the poor kid as he put his mug in one hand and hugged his kid with the other. 

Hoped that in the future, it would be.

Even if he had to force everyone and everything coming after him--and now Steve--to do it.

(Wondered vaguely, how bad it was that he was already getting as protective as Steve as he was of his own kid.

Probably very, given his kid clearly hated Harrington.)

xXx

Wayne took the first night of Steve’s stay off.

He wasn’t the type to use his PTO lightly. Was used to rationing it for any possible thing Eddie might need him for.

A night up sick when he was younger, to a night spent chasing him down during some of their bad spots--but the last year or so Wayne had slowly realized he hadn’t had to use it much.

He was still careful with it though, precious as it was, and was thankful for it now as it ensured his nephew didn’t murder their house guest. 

Or at the very least, didn't sit there pecking at him.

The kid might've failed English a few times, but he had a real gift with words and an even better one with insults.

(Wayne wasn't quite clear on what all the "King" jabs were about, and absolutely did not get why Steve looked far more hurt at the comment about his "sad ass floppy hair" but given the increasingly flat look Steve was throwing Eddie's way, Wayne figured it couldn't be anything good.)

Thankfully a pointed reminder about Steve's injuries had finally gotten them all some peace, enough for Harrington to drop back to sleep--and for Wayne to realize he looked a little too dead while he did it to be comfortable getting any sleep himself.

The kids chest barely moved, and that it ate at Wayne’s until he got up and shoved a hand under his nose. 

Felt his breath, and told himself the poor sod was fine. 

Hurt, absolutely, but alive. 

Over and over again, until the sun had made its rotation in the sky, bringing the morning with it.

‘Better than nightmares, I suppose.’ Wayne figured, as exhaustion scraped at his eyelids.

Those Wayne knew, would come later. When Steve’s brain caught up to the rest of him, and stopping dumping survival chemicals through his battered body. 

He'd given up on sleep entirely sometime around 1 am, and now he sat at his small kitchen table, writing out a medication schedule for Harrington so he and the kid both knew when he could have his next Tylenol. 

Wasn’t even halfway through it before Eddie made his typically late appearance and blew through his door. 

Had his back up from the moment he’d stepped a foot in the kitchen and it didn’t take a genius to see he’d worked himself into a snit again.

Unfortunately for him, whatever scenario that imaginative brain of his had cooked up fell flat to the reality that was the poor kid on the couch. 

Steve Harrington was one a hell of a sight.

Didn’t help that he was doing his level best to make himself as small as possible, curled deep into Wayne's ancient couch.

The blankets covered the ribs and hid away most of the damage, but there wasn’t much Steve could do to hide the shiners on his face--or the marks around his neck.  

Not when they’d grown worse overnight, practically inviting questions.

It was almost laughable how quickly Eddie ate whatever words he’d prepared, mouth awkwardly chewing around them as if they were tangible. 

The less-than-sneaky looks he threw at the younger teen were equally amusing, and if Wayne wasn’t trying to peace keep, he’d have given in and chuckled when Eds split attention caused him to pour half his coffee into the sink rather than a cup. 

Looked utterly lost when, after finishing putting his coffee together and grabbing some junk food thing that absolutely was not a breakfast item, he came to stand awkwardly at Wayne's shoulder, openly staring as Steve blatantly ignored him.

Eds didn’t know what to do, and Wayne couldn't blame him. 

Seemed to keep thinking he was going to encounter a boy that likely no longer existed, and whose blood tinged specter just made things sad.

Shit like this, Wayne knew, took a man’s ego and warped it, shaping it to something else entirely. 

At least for Steve, it seemed that getting wrapped up in whatever mess he had had shaped him for the better, instead of pretzeling him into something worse. That, Wayne thought, spoke to the boy's character more than anything he’d done prior. 

(It helped to know what Hopper tolerated and what he didn’t. That he’d vouched for Steve in the same way Wayne knew he’d vouched for Eddie, even if Eddie didn’t yet realize the cop he antagonized so much would do that for him.) 

That didn't erase the history his kid had with Harrington, though.

Wouldn't stop him from seeing the old Steve, first.

‘Don’t you got school?” Wayne asked when he decided Ed had stared enough. 

“Yeah, yeah.” Eddie waved him off, trotting out the door. “Bye old man, house parasite!” 

It was clearly a jab, meant to nettle, but Steve barely acted like he heard it. 

Wayne rolled his eyes. 

“Goodbye, Eds.” He said firmly, much of a warning as he ever gave, and fondly watched his nephew scuttle out the door. 

Turned to see how Steve was taking things, and was once again given a reminder that Steve wasn’t doing a hell of a lot other than feeling his injuries. 

“I think I promised you a game, son.”  Wayne said gently, startling Steve out of the distant, dim look he had trained on the wall. 

It wasn’t a lot to offer in terms of a distraction, but it would have to do.

[demadogs]

When a typical virus attaches itself to its host, it duplicates, right? It spreads, essentially hijacking the host… What is so unusual here is that this virus, the infected hosts seem to be communicating.

Stranger Things season two (2017)

[steddiehyperfixation]

accidental eavesdropping (steddie ficlet)

based on this post by @imjust-that-shy. i hope i did this vision justice <3

The doors to the bathroom burst open, and - on some pure, inexplicable instinct and with nearly inhuman speed - Eddie darts back into the stall he'd just been about to come out of and leaps to perch on top of the toilet seat, crouched there like some sort of creature. 

He hears the sound of retching and the stench of vomit fills the air. He holds his breath, wrinkling his nose and trying to imagine what possible context could be behind Steve Harrington and Robin Buckley bursting in here together to puke their guts out. Eddie knows the two of them work together, he’s seen them sharing shifts at Scoops Ahoy when he's walked by. (Not that he often intentionally passes by the ice cream parlor and slows down just to catch a glimpse of Steve or anything… Although who could really blame him if he did? Like, come on, Steve in that uniform? Hello, sailor.) His mind is busy spinning stories of possible explanations, ranging from spoiled ice cream to sneaking alcohol and getting too drunk during their break. 

Eddie's leaning towards the 'drinking on the job' explanation, especially when the retching finally ceases and Robin says something about the room no longer spinning. Those little rebels, Eddie thinks approvingly.

“When’s the last time you, uh…peed your pants,” Steve is asking Robin now, in response to her telling him in a Russian accent to interrogate her. 

Eddie curls over his knees, tilting his head to try to peer through the gap between the stalls and the floor to put an image to his eavesdropping. Might as well, he’s kind of stuck here and there’s really not much else he can do right now. He can see Steve’s legs, one bent and the other stretched out in front of him, and Robin in the stall past him laying on the floor with her legs up against the stall wall as she answers, “Today…” 

“What?” Steve questions.

“When the Russian doctor took out the bone saw!” Robin says. 

Okay…what? Russian doctors and bone saws? Eddie’s now thoroughly intrigued, if a little (okay, a lot) confused. Maybe they’re talking about a movie they watched or something.

Steve’s legs shake with his laughter. “Oh my god.” 

“It was just a little bit, though.” Robin pinches her fingers together as she twists her body in Steve’s direction while he laughs again and mutters that whatever it is they took is still in her system. She pushes her feet off the stall and slides to sit against the opposite wall. Eddie can only see her legs now. “Okay, my turn. Have you…ever been in love?” 

Steve answers that he has, with Nancy, and makes a sound mimicking an explosion. Eddie remembers that, remembers seeing Steve and Nancy being all touchy and cute in the hallways at school while he was trying his damndest to convince himself that he absolutely definitely did not wish he was in Nancy’s place. It didn’t work very well. And it’s not working very well now either as Steve starts to go on about some new girl he likes now instead - some girl who’s funny and smart and can crack secret Russian codes (okay, seriously, what is it with these two and Russians?) and oh shit, he’s talking about Robin. 

Eddie very suddenly feels like he should not be here listening to this, eavesdropping on Steve confessing his feelings for someone. Not only is that, like, a private and personal thing, but also what if Robin likes him back and they start kissing or something right here in this bathroom where Eddie has to sit here and listen to it and that would just be horrible for him for so many reasons and- Eddie’s getting ahead of himself. Robin hasn’t even said anything yet, and her knees are pulled up to her chest and her voice shakes when she confirms she’s still alive after Steve asks if she’s OD’d there in the silence and she uncurls with a deep sigh. All signs that she doesn’t actually like Steve back. 

Eddie watches as Steve shifts and slides under the stall into Robin’s, and catches sight of the nasty bruise marring nearly half of Steve’s otherwise beautiful face as he does so. Now concern has been added to the list of emotions this eavesdropping experience has rollercoastered him through so far. The bruise looks fairly fresh and Eddie can’t help but wonder what the hell gave Steve a black eye like that and if he’s okay. 

After a brief spiral of concern for Steve’s face, Eddie tunes back into reality to find himself staring at Steve’s ass as Steve now sits with his back against the stall wall opposite Robin. Eddie blinks, expands his tunnel vision to include Steve’s lower back and Robin’s legs which are also visible beneath the gap in the stalls. 

“It’s not because I had a crush on you,” Robin is saying. “It’s because…she wouldn’t stop staring at you.”

“Mrs. Click?” Steve sounds confused.

“Tammy Thompson,” Robin clarifies. “I wanted her to look at me.”

Oh. Eddie should really not be listening to this. Robin is trying to come out to Steve, trying to share something deeply personal and vulnerable with him and only him, not knowing that she’s outing herself to an eavesdropping near-stranger as well. Eddie feels violating and intruding. He can’t imagine how he would feel if he found out someone he barely knew had been secretly listening in on him coming out - probably not great, probably terrified. This is something he shouldn’t know, not like this. 

“But Tammy Thompson’s a girl,” Steve says, his tone unreadable, and Eddie’s heart nearly stops, sure his own anticipatory anxiety is likely only just a fraction of what Robin must be feeling right now. 

“Steve…” 

“Yeah?” A pause. “Oh,” Steve’s voice goes soft. “Oh… Holy shit.” 

“Yeah,” Robin sighs. Eddie can see her hands nervously rubbing at her shins. “Holy shit.” 

Steve is silent for a few painfully long moments. Eddie’s hands curl nervously around his own shins. Is Steve going to be homophobic? Should Eddie be worried for Robin now? 

“Steve, did you OD over there?” Robin asks, trying to be light but Eddie can hear the anxiety in her voice. 

“No, I just, uh- just thinking,” Steve responds. 

“Okay…” Robin’s voice is barely audible. Eddie is holding his breath.

“I mean, yeah,” Steve says finally, “Tammy Thompson’s cute and all, but the only reason I never gave her the time of day was because I was too busy staring at Eddie Munson.” 

The aforementioned Eddie Munson releases the breath he’d been holding with an involuntary squeak and claps a hand over his mouth. Thankfully, neither of them heard him over the sound of Robin shouting. “What?! Eddie Munson?! You liked Eddie Munson?” she squawks, voicing Eddie’s own stunned thoughts perfectly.

“Yeah,” Steve confirms casually, completely unaware that he's throwing an eavesdropping Eddie into an absolute crisis right now. There's a soft thudding sound like Steve's hitting the back of his head against the stall wall. His voice gets kind of wistful, almost dreamy, as he says, “His rings, man. Rings and tattoos…and that long hair and those chains he'd wear… Honestly just his whole punk aesthetic thing had me mesmerized.” 

“Pretty sure he's metal, not punk,” Robin corrects him. 

Thanks, Robin. Also, what the fuck is happening right now? 

“Whatever. Still hot as hell,” Steve says. 

Eddie squeaks again and practically shoves his whole fist in his mouth to keep himself from making any more noise, his teeth knocking against his rings. The rings Steve likes, apparently. He feels like he's going to pass out, his heart beating so erratically it's making him lightheaded. King Steve - the popular, preppy, stupid, gorgeous, dumb jock Eddie's been crushing on since forever - just called him hot????  

“Did you hear that?” Robin asks suddenly, voice low and cautious. 

Shit. 

“Is anyone else in here?” Steve calls out. 

Fuck. 

Eddie bites down hard on his knuckles and holds his breath, going impossibly still. If they get up and search the bathroom, then he’s about to be caught red handed, crouched on top of a toilet seat with his fist in his mouth and his face flushed scarlet, eavesdropping on their private conversation about secret Russians and gay crushes. Eddie contemplates falling into the toilet and attempting to flush himself down it. Every god imaginable is receiving a silent prayer from him right now as he watches apprehensively through the gaps in the stall. One of those gods must've heard and taken pity on this poor gay disaster of a man crouched like a goblin in a bathroom stall, because after a few horrible seconds of silence, all Steve does is lean down to peer beneath the stalls for a moment before sitting back up and saying, “Looks empty. I think the drugs are making us hear things.” 

“Yeah, probably,” Robin says. Then she giggles, knocking her leg against Steve’s. “I still can’t believe you were into Eddie.” 

Steve flicks Robin’s knee. “I can’t believe you were into Tammy.”

“What’s wrong with Tammy?!” Robin protests.

“What’s wrong with Eddie?” Steve counters. “At least he’s actually got talent. Tammy’s a total dud - she wants to be a singer and shit but she can’t even hold a tune.” 

Eddie is going to die. He is actually going to die right here, right now, because Steve Harrington thinks he’s hot and talented. And then Steve starts mimicking Tammy, singing Total Eclipse of the Heart in a ridiculously goofy voice, and now Eddie is going to die because he finds that so stupidly endearing and adorable. Maybe he should just flush himself down the toilet, save himself from this hopelessly pathetic crush of his. Instead, he’s saved by the bathroom doors bursting open again and a new voice shouting at them, “Okay. What the hell?!” 

Steve and Robin collapse into a fit of giggles before being dragged to their feet by the newcomers and led out of the bathroom, leaving Eddie alone and reeling and struggling to process literally everything he’s just overheard. He finally hops down from his toilet perch and exits the stall like he’s in a daze. He’s not sure how long he had been camped out in there - probably only about ten minutes - but it felt like hours, so long that the world outside of that single bathroom stall almost feels foreign and unfamiliar now. 

Eddie grips the bathroom sink and stares at his flustered reflection in the mirror and whispers to himself, “What the actual fuck?” 

---

Later, years later, only after he and Steve are already dating, Eddie tells him all about this experience, and Steve laughs so hard he nearly cries.

(ao3 link)

[ikarakie]

one of the known, undisputed rules of riding in steve harrington's car: passenger seat gets music privileges.

if you brought your own tape, and won the usually vicious battle for shotgun, there was a 100% chance that the drive would be backed with music of your choice. hell, there was even a small collection growing in steve's glove box of music that wasn’t his, because people left them behind either on accident or on purpose. no one really knew what steve liked to listen to- maybe minus robin- but he always seemed happy with whatever the passenger put in.

until one day, when dustin and lucas and mike climbed into his car. dustin had won passenger seat privileges, after a rather tense game of rock, paper, scissors, and instantly reached for the tape player.

steve smacked his hand down. "paws off, henderson." he scolded, not unkindly. all three kids stared at him like he'd grown a third limb as he pulled out of the wheeler's driveway. electric guitar played at a semi-low volume.

"what the hell?!" dustin squawked. "why can't i change the tape?" steve rolled his eyes, fingers tapping along to the rhythm of the beat on the wheel. none of the kids recognised the song, and it certainly didn't seem the kind of thing steve harrington would willingly listen to.

"is it so surprising i want to listen to my own tape in my car?" steve asks. dustin shouts an affronted, 'YES!' to which steve just shakes his head and continues driving.

the man on the track sings over heavy drums and guitar, talking about how he needed someone to 'show me the things that make true happiness' and 'he must be blind.' then, there's a guitar solo that steve smiles at.

"who are you?" mike asked, suspicious. "what did you do with our steve?"

"oh, shut up, wheeler." steve meets his eye in the rearview mirror. "next one to complain loses tape privileges for their next three turns."

that does shut them up. they make idle conversation over a couple more songs before they pull up to their destination. mostly threatening each other over high scores and making bets. steve waves them off with the usual 'don't be stupid' lecture and pulls out of the arcade parking lot, the bass of whatever the next track had been audible even through his closed doors and windows.

after that, steve retains ownership of his stereo every now and then, always playing some form of heavy metal. it just becomes the norm, though never fails to confound whoever's in the car. (because, seriously? polo shirt wearing steve harrington and heavy metal?)

they only ever hear anyone else listen to it after they join hellfire. eddie invites them to his trailer to create their characters together, and when they walk in one of the songs from that dumb tape is playing from a record in the corner.

"woah! you like this music too?" lucas asks. eddie nods excitedly.

"yeah, man! you a fan?" his smile dims a little when lucas shakes his head, but dustin is quick to jump in.

"our friend steve is always listening to a dumb mixtape with this sorta stuff on it." he explains, missing how eddie's eyes light up and his smile turns a little bashful. "he used to let us play whatever we want, but ever since he got that tape he makes us listen to it sometimes when he drives us around."

"well," eddie sighs, fiddling with one of his chunky silver rings. "seems this steve knows someone with very good taste in music." there's a warm look in his eyes before he claps his hands and diverts their attention to the character sheets he printed out.

later that night, steve gets a call.

"you told me you only listened to that tape once." the voice on the other end drawls. it's low and teasing, but it's undercut with obvious wonder and fondness. steve doesn't even bother pretending to be confused.

"well, it's good." (it makes me think of you) he replies, like it pains him. eddie giggles, and steve eyes the tape in question. sat on his bedside table, 'for my stevie' scrawled across it in eddie's neatest handwriting. shitty little hearts drawn around his name and an even shittier skull at the end. "how'd you know?"

"recognised my mötörhead record." eddie coos, "told me how you revoke their music privileges to listen to it." a pause. "you're so fucking cute."

steve can't help the dorky smile that spreads over his face. the way he twirls the phone cord like a fucking lovesick loser. he cracks a joke about making eddie a mixtape featuring the likes of duran duran and tears for fears, which makes him fake retch. they chat for a little while longer, whispering 'i love you's through the phones like it was their first time saying it.

the tape stays firmly in the bmw's music rotation.

[swanparties]

the fictional couple on my computer hurt me so bad i had to reconnect with nature

[unfinishedslurs]

party king (steddie)

“You want me to what?”

“Go to a party with me,” Eddie says, looking at Steve like he’s the weirdo here. “What’s the big deal, King Steve? You’ve been to plenty of parties.”

“You know, no one actually called me that,” Steve tells him, abandoning his tapes to put his hands on his hips. “Billy started it. I think he just wanted people to call him a king.”

Eddie visibly considers this before nodding, like it makes sense. Which it does. Billy was, in Steve’s private thoughts, an egotistical maniac who needed to calm down.

May he rest in peace.

“But you’ll come to the party with me, right?”

“Give it up, Eddie,” Robin calls from where she’s rewinding tapes. “Steve hasn’t been to a party in forever. He’s basically a grandpa now.”

“Hey!” Steve objects. That’s rich, coming from her. Going to bed at nine some nights so he gets a few more hours of sleep before waking up in a cold sweat does not make him a grandpa. It just makes him traumatized  

“Steeeeeeeve,” Eddie whines, widening his eyes until it looks like they’re going to pop out of his sockets. His exaggerated pout isn't going to do him any favors either. No matter what the kids say behind his back (looking at you, Henderson) he isn't a pushover.

“Why would I want to go to a high school party?” He crosses his arms, leaning against the counter. “I graduated. I have better things to do with my time.”

“Like lose arcade games to freshmen?” Robin asks. He flips her the bird.

“Please, Steve?” Eddie asks. “Pretty please? Pretty pretty please, with cherries and whipped cream and six little nuggets on top?”

“What the hell are you even saying anymore?”

“You want him to eat his babies?” Robin shrieks. “Like Kronos? Is one of them going to cut off his head and free the rest?”

Eddie’s eyes light up, and Steve slaps a hand over his mouth. He doesn’t know who that guy is, and he doesn’t want to deal with the two of them chattering over whatever movie villain he’s assuming is in their weird cult classic films when he still doesn’t know why Eddie is asking him to this party.

He doesn’t even flinch when Eddie licks his hand.

“I’ve been slobbered on by actual monsters,” he says flatly. “Your spit has zero effect on me.”

Eddie bats his eyes and gives his palm a kiss, right where he’d laved his tongue. Steve rolls his eyes and wipes his hand on the side of Eddie’s face.

“Hey!”

“Don’t dish what you can’t take,” Steve says. “Now, why exactly am I getting asked to go to a high school party?”

“Jessica Roberts needs some kush, and she asked me to sell there.”

“Okay? Still not answering my question.”

“There’s gonna be jocks at the party,” Eddie finally confesses, “and I don’t know if they’ll try shit. But given my track record lately…”

“So you need a bodyguard?”

“Hey!” Steve shouts, and is summarily ignored by everyone. So he does what any normal person would do, and slams an abandoned beer bottle against the edge of the counter so it shatters. 

The jocks turn and look at him after that.

Steve glances down at the jagged edges of the bottle in his hands, flipping it like it’s his old ice cream scoop. Yeah, this should work. 

“Leave him alone,” he says, steely inflection to his voice. 

“Or what, Harrington?” One of them asks. “Heard you just been sittin’ in this room all night. What, you hanging around the queers now? Didn’t take you for a f-”

He stops talking when Steve grabs him by the hair and presses the broken bottle against his throat.

“Here’s what's gonna happen,” he says quietly, taking a look at his buddy. He’s let go of Eddie, a lot more spooked now that his friend is shaking in his Nike’s. “You’re going to leave this room. You’re going to leave Munson here alone. You’re not going to bother him, or anyone else in his dragon club ever again. If I hear that you or your little friends are fucking with him, I have a very nice nail-studded baseball bat in my trunk I’d be more than happy to introduce you to. Capisce?”

“Woah, woah, woah,” the guy that was holding Eddie says. “What the hell, Harrington?”

Steve doesn’t break eye contact with the guy he’s threatening. “Capisce?” He asks again, putting a little more force into the word.

“C-capisce.”

“Good,” he says, shoving him away. “Now get outta here.”

They scramble away. Steve walks over to the trash can and throws away the remains of the bottle, running a hand through his hair. He finally turns around to see Eddie staring at him with wide eyes, frozen.

“Sorry-”

“Fuck me.”

“What?”

Eddie’s entire face flushes, like he didn’t mean to say that. “Uh.”

Steve looks at him, and then around the kitchen they’re in. Glass and beer on the floor, music blasting loud enough to set him on edge, a crowd of people that look at him like a zoo exhibit. Fuck, his head hurts. 

“Yeah, okay,” he decides. “We’re going to mine, though.”

“Wh-what?” Eddie looks like a deer in headlights, even though Steve’s offering exactly what he asked. 

“I…have no idea what I’m doing,” Eddie confesses. 

“Oh, are you not…” He trails off, gesturing towards Eddie’s back pocket. “I assumed…”

Eddie laughs abruptly, slapping a hand over his mouth like he startled himself with it. “You know hanky code, Harrington?”

“Can you call me Steve when you’re in my bed?” He’s already got his shirt off, for God’s sake. “Listen, man, if you don’t want this, it’s no biggie.” He starts to get off, and Eddie’s hand clamps over his thigh. 

“No, no, no, don’t you dare. Just gimme a minute, I’m processing.”

“Processing,” he repeats flatly. 

“Yes, processing. I’ve got the guy of my extremely virginal wet dreams shirtless on top of me. I did not think this would ever happen. I didn’t even know you were queer until tonight.”

Steve’s mouth shapes into an “o” of understanding. “You’re a virgin?”

“Jesus, could you focus on anything else I said?”

“You dream about me?”

“Let’s go back to the virgin part.” His fingers start nervously tapping against Steve’s leg. 

“You’re not subtle,” Steve says flatly. “I know when you stare at my ass.”

Eddie colors in a flood of bright red. “What if I wasn’t? What if I was…uh, jealous or something?”

“I guess that’d make sense, since you’re flat as a board.”

“Wh—hey!”

[thranduel]

[lumaxramblings]

[jonathanbyersphd]

Overthinking about this prolonged shot of the phone on the empty wall after Will and Mike have their “join another party” scene 

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

I'm just bringing up the fact that Steve didn't just connect the fact that the music on the tape sounded just like the music from the little horsey machine in the mall. . .he made the connection that there were Russians there in Hawkins. Robin and Dustin were both dismissive of that. (I love both Dustin and Robin. Don't get me wrong.) While Dustin found the code, Robin helped translate it. It was Steve Harrington who connected them all together. They might not have ever realized that the Russians were there, or it might have taken them longer. Man, it might take him a while, but after his relationship with Nancy, I think Steve started to learn to pick up on the small stuff. He's always done that, but I think he tries harder. Fuck anyone who says he's just a pretty face who brings nothing to the table other than being a shield. I didn't really think about it, but there's a parallel of Joyce picking up on the magnets and not being taken seriously, either. I could see Joyce and Steve bonding over that.

[aggressiveviking]

scars

[weyddikor]

CUTIE PATOOTIE JOYREN TEENS FOREVER

they have matching strands of hair, necklace that have karen is the same color as eye color joyce!

[chirpsythismorning]

S5 opener REAL

[milk-or-vodka]

I loved my friend.

-Langston Hughes

[rhaenyyras]

another thing i really love about steddie is how similar they are like!! tell me why all these scenes have the exact same energy ✨ also s3 steve raging in the elevator (in those shorts!!!) is everythingggg