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patchworkgargoyle · 10 months ago

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🩸 A Steddie Big Bang Fic 🌙

Chapter 1

story by: @patchworkgargoyle || art to come by: @mcdadarts || playlist to come by: @steves-strapcollection Rating: E || Words: 3.9k || CW: graphic depictions of violence, blood drinking || Full tag list on ao3! || Posting: weekly Fic title from Wolf Like Me - TV On The Radio AAAAA HERE WE GO, FOLKS!! Chapters 1 & 2 are here!!

Steve could hear it already, the pop music blasting too loud to be healthy for anyone’s ears, let alone his and Robin’s. He let out a contained sigh.

“Yeah, yeah. C’mon, you grump, you know we should,” Robin said, unbuckling her seatbelt. “Into the fray?” She raised her eyebrows expectantly.

Jaw muscles clenching and relaxing, he rolled his eyes and said, “Fine.”

The Bimmer’s doors shut behind them with finality as they walked up the long driveway of Penny Brady’s house, a group of teens spilling out of the front door and laughing loud enough to make Steve wince. He felt a bit of petty jealousy that Robin could handle it all just fine, the overwhelmed senses. It had been a year since Billy’s attack and he still struggled to tune them out, so this was part of Robin and Dustin’s plan: exposure therapy. Sounded like a shit plan if you asked him, which, of course, they didn’t. Steve was sure it was only going to expose him to a migraine but they wouldn’t relent until he agreed to go to Penny’s Halloween party, so, here they were. At least Robin agreed Dustin couldn’t come. The little twerp would draw too much attention, his pen and notepad out and pestering Steve with questions all night.

Robin led the way into the house, not even pausing, forcing Steve to keep up for appearance’s sake. The music, the people, everything felt like a viscous wall of sound as soon as he passed the threshold, clinging to and muddling his hearing. His shoulders rose as if to block it out. A few people greeted him, only the familiarity of his own name cutting through, and all Steve could manage was a thin smile and a nod, following the bobbing, scraggly white wig Robin wore to complete her Doc Brown costume. Finally she stopped in the kitchen, the door closing behind them and blocking out only some of the racket. Some couples dispersed as they entered, but another group stuck around, chatting to themselves in a corner.

Robin bumped him with her elbow. “You look like you ate a whole lemon.”

“I’d rather do that than be here,” he complained quietly, reaching for a solo cup and grabbing a generous ladle-worth of the spiked punch. He probably would have smelled the vodka even before this, and Steve hoped the strong fumes would distract him from the music at least. When Robin wiggled a cup at him, he filled it for her too.

“It’s not gonna get better unless you get used to it, Steve,” she said, at the same volume, leaning into his space.

“I know,” he grumbled. And he did. She’d gone through all of this already, years ago and way too young, and as much as he hated to admit it, she was right. She was his self-appointed Werewolf Mentor, as much as the title made him roll his eyes. At least he had someone to help him through all this werewolf shit.

Transforming into a wolf-human hybrid for the full moon as well as the day before and after, drastically intensified senses, heightened strength and speed even in human form, an increased diet of meat, and a seemingly endless well of energy; Steve had known all of this from a young age too, younger than Robin, even, but from a different perspective. Being born into one of the longest, most respected, and traditional hunter lineages, Steve Harrington had known all about werewolves and everything else that went bump in the night since he was old enough to read. His parents had trained him to hunt the supernatural, keeping it controlled and away from unknowing civilians. He was the heir to the Harrington line. And as of last year, he was also a werewolf.

It sorta put a kink in the whole hunter thing – though the heightened senses and strength did help – but while Robin taught him her werewolf ways he taught her how to avoid and fight hunters off, and went about hunts with a lot more compassion than he’d had before. Hunter code required them to only “exterminate” targets who were a danger, and Steve was already too soft-hearted by most hunters’ standards, so he stopped giving a fuck and did what he felt right instead. Steve put himself between the humans of Hawkins and its population of supernaturals, trying his best to keep a balance instead of burning and salting the earth.

Unlike the Carvers, whose son just barged into the kitchen. Jason plastered on an obviously fake smile as soon as he caught sight of Steve and Robin huddled together and Steve felt Robin stiffen beside him.

“Hey Harrington. Haven’t seen you around in a while,” Jason said, holding his hand out. Steve shook it once.

“Carver.”

“We were beginning to worry about you, if it weren’t for the stories I’ve heard around town I would’ve thought you’d skipped town.” Crossing his arms, Jason leaned on the counter closest to the door, effectively blocking their exit. Steve stifled an irritated huff. He didn’t miss this stupid posturing. The Carvers weren’t worried about him, he could guarantee that. It was more likely that they wanted the title of the only hunters in Hawkins, since Steve’s parents were gone on consultations all the time.

“Yeah, well, I’m still kicking,” Steve said with practised nonchalance.

“Good to hear!” Jason clapped Steve on the shoulder just this side of too hard, gave Robin an assessing look, and left the kitchen with a, “see you around.”

“‘See you around,’” Robin mocked, and Steve hummed, agreeing. “Was he always this much of a douche?”

“Oh yeah. A total kiss-ass too. Followed me around during hunter and basketball practice begging for attention.” Steve was glad that his fall from Hawkins High royalty had stopped Jason’s off-putting hero worship of him; he'd been tired of it since their parents forced them to socialise as kids.

Robin snorted. “That’s not surprising.”

They stood and drank their pungent drinks, trading gossip idly, until Robin asked, “Ready to brave the living room?”

Instead of answering, Steve downed the last of his punch, braced himself for the noise, and joined the party proper. Waiting in the kitchen while his senses adjusted had made a difference, he only felt like his head was being smashed by a rubber mallet instead of a sledgehammer, so he let Robin push him into the living room where most people mingled and danced.

“Alright. Tip one: distractions,” Robin whispered. “Focus on my voice, not anyone else’s, not the music.” She began to ramble, picking out costumes she recognized, or thought looked bad or lazy, occasionally picking out a girl she thought was cute for Steve to either agree or disagree, drawing him into telling embarrassing stories about the popular kids he used to hang around with. Listening to her voice was simple, easy, and before he realised it the noise faded a little more into the background.

When a guy walked by reeking of body spray Steve dug his nails into his palms to keep from recoiling, nose wrinkling, and he tried to swallow past the affront to his sinuses. Robin also winced. “Tip two: breathe through your mouth. Though I doubt that’ll help much against that.”

“Pretty sure I’d choke. That’s chemical warfare. One spray is enough, for christ’s sake,” he complained, giving the guy a nasty glare.

“We should tell him he’s violating the Geneva Convention.”

They watched from their patch of wall as he stepped up to a group of girls, trying to chat them up with a smarmy grin. When the girls each made similar queasy expressions and dispersed, Steve and Robin snickered a little meanly.

Crossing his arms with a smirk, Steve asked, “Anything else?”

Robin shrugged. “If all else fails, go outside or find a quiet room. Just don’t use it as an excuse to smoke or anything, I’ll know.” She narrowed her eyes at him.

“Yeah, yeah.” He waved an unconcerned hand at her and she glared harder. He held up three fingers and said, flatly, “Scout’s honour.”

“You weren’t a Boy Scout, you ass. Now, go, spread your wolfy wings and fly from the nest like a very strange bird.”

Confused by the bizarre analogy, he let Robin shoo him into the crowd so he could mingle. Mostly, he let people come to him; old classmates, customers, kids whose parents knew his own (exclusively outside of hunter circles), still drawn in by his old reputation. Penny herself came up to talk to Steve at one point, asking how he was and what he’d been up to. Like Robin instructed, he focused on her voice instead of everything else.

The attention was nice. His dry spell had lasted longer than he wanted to admit, and he’d given up trying to pick up customers at Family Video when he struck out every time. She was pretty, he thought, with long, straight dark hair and hazel eyes, wearing some kind of subtle vanilla perfume, and when Robin waggled her eyebrows at him across the room he brushed her off with a smile that was only a little bit smug. Leaning into her space a little, Steve could hear Penny’s heart rate pick up over the bright poppy music, saw the slight pink blush in her cheeks and let himself feel just a bit accomplished. He’s still got it, he thought. But then something crashed upstairs, and Penny had to race off with panicked apologies.

Damn. He stood in the room by himself for a moment and watched, hands in his pockets, until he caught Robin’s eye and jerked his head towards the back door. When she waved him off he waded through the thinning crowd and escaped into the much calmer backyard. Skunky smoke wafted through the air, but that was something Steve could handle. He dug out his secret stash of cigarettes and lit up as he leaned over the railing of the small deck, exhaling with a heavy sigh.

The small backyard was enclosed by the forest of thin trees that surrounded half of Hawkins. Most had lost their leaves by now, littering the ground instead, and the lawn was meticulously cleared of them. A shed sat closer to the house, and a small fire pit burned a few feet away, crackling and watched over by drunken teens.

By the shed, though, two figures caught Steve's eye. A girl with a high, bouncy, blonde ponytail and Carver's letterman – Chrissy Cunningham. He often wondered why such a sweet girl was with Jason, she was always friendly with the basketball team and managed Jason's mood swings with ease, not that she should've had to. But beside her, half hidden in shadow, stood her total opposite.

Eddie Munson flicked the ash from his joint and laughed at something Chrissy said while he leaned against the metal shed with her. The distant fire caught, just barely, on the shine of his dark eyes and the curls of his hair. Steve wondered how he wasn't cold. Chrissy clutched her jacket close while Eddie's leather jacket and denim vest fell open to the cold autumn air, revealing some tee for a band Steve didn't know. He hadn't seen Eddie around since midway through his own senior year, Eddie's second attempt. But he hadn't come back to school after winter break.

The rumour mill churned out every kind of story about it – that he'd dropped out or gotten sick, or he'd died, or he stole a car and ran to the coast (whichever one seemed more dramatic). Seeing him here at Penny's party was surprising, either way. Must be back to dealing.

Steve's gaze lingered. He looked pale, but… good, smiling fondly at Chrissy as she kept speaking, something about the newest cheerleader. He had a dimple in his left cheek when he grinned, just above some intense scarring on his jaw Steve didn’t remember from school, but there was something with his teeth–

Eddie's eyes flicked up, and met Steve's instantly. Something swooped low in his gut, he couldn't name it but it made his heart kick up a couple beats faster. Adrenaline? No. All the warmth in Eddie's face faded as soon as he saw Steve staring, chased away by a hard, emotionless expression. Catching on quickly, Chrissy glanced back at Steve, then to Eddie again, leaning in to whisper. Eddie kept staring back at Steve, who couldn't look away. He felt pinned, his cigarette turning to ash, and Steve thought that maybe he shouldn't look away, like this was some kind of battle of wills. Robin would mock him for trying to be macho, but he couldn't help it. Didn't want to.

Maybe it had something to do with his heart beating faster, tricking his body into fight or flight, but Steve could feel his senses honing in on the pair. The music from the house was still too loud to hear what Chrissy was saying, but Steve could still smell something. Beyond the weed, fire, and cigarettes, the beer and sweat, cologne and perfume, there was a familiar warm, metallic tang. It was subtle, woven between and underneath the rest, and Steve had to resist sniffing at the air like a bloodhound to suss it out. Before he could place it, though, Chrissy took Eddie’s ringed hand and began to pull him away.

The muscles in Eddie's jaw jumped and his chest rose and fell with a slow, deliberate breath before, finally, he tore his magnetic gaze away and released Steve from whatever that was. Steve swallowed. He tracked Eddie and Chrissy while they walked to the side of the house. Chrissy cast one last look at Steve, giving him a small, hesitant smile before following Eddie's dark figure out of sight. Refusing to parse out whether he was disappointed or relieved, Steve stubbed out the cigarette butt and tossed it into the short bushes that bordered the deck with a quick mental apology to Penny’s parents.

That was… weird, right? He thought about what had happened, still hunched over the railing, absently digging his thumbnail into the wood grain. It was also a little strange to see Chrissy with Eddie, since he and Jason had been at each other's throats in school more often than not, and as far as Steve knew he and Chrissy were still an item. Sure looked it, since she wore his members only jacket.

Robin found him still standing there some time later, staring into the middle distance until she kicked his calf. “Ow, what the hell?” he said, glaring.

“That’s what you get for hiding out here.” She scowled. “Also you stink of smoke. I told you not to, I thought you’d quit anyway.”

“You know I didn’t.” He tried. It didn’t last, clearly.

“Yeah, well, I was waiting for you to admit that, you coward.”

Steve scoffed. “You can smell it, Rob. Figured that was enough to clue you in.”

“Still a coward,” she said loftily. “Anyway, I’m bored, drive me home.”

“Right away, your majesty.” Rolling his eyes and stifling a smile, Steve pushed off from the railing and followed Robin back through the house, only a little disappointed that he didn’t see Penny again before getting to the door. Steve did, however, fill Robin in on who he’d spotted in the backyard once they stepped outside.

“Oh wow, Jason must hate that friendship,” Robin said.

“Right?” he replied with some satisfaction, “I’m no fan of Munson’s but I’ll get behind anything that ticks Carver off.”

Robin looked thoughtful for a moment as they walked down the dark street. The Bimmer sat parked under a streetlight, burgundy paint faintly sparkling. Somehow, after all the hunts and mishaps Steve had taken her on, she was still pristine. Eventually, Robin said, “As long as he doesn’t get the shit kicked out of him, though.”

Steve shrugged at first, but an image of Eddie’s face covered in blood and bruises similar to the ones Jonathan and Billy had given him flashed through his mind’s eye and he winced internally. Yeah, he wouldn’t really wish that on someone who didn’t deserve it. “He’s survived this long, he’ll probably be fine,” he said instead.

“Maybe, but-” she cut herself off, head tilting towards the car. “Steve? You hear that?”

He did. A faint voice, crackling over the walkie Dustin gave him that he’d stuffed under the passenger seat. “Shit.”

They jogged to the car, Steve fumbling with his keys and whipping the door open, diving for the walkie under the seat as he heard Dustin loudly announcing, “Code red! Steve, goddamnit, where are you!? Code red!”

“Dustin! What’s wrong?”

“Werewolf! In the woods! It’s dead, over!”

Steve met Robin’s shocked expression, her blue eyes wide with worry. “Where are you?”

“We’re behind Forest Hills. And you have to say over, Steve! Over!”

Groaning, Steve resisted the urge to smack his head against the car door. Instead, he reached over to unlock Robin’s door so she could get in. “Why the fuck are you in the woods at night, Dustin? Over.” He emphasised the last word with every bit of frustration he felt at the moment.

“Just. Get. Here. Over!”

“Fine! Jesus christ, over and out,” Steve snapped, slammed his door shut and started the car, peeling away from the curb.

They got to the trailer park in record time, despite Steve ranting at Robin about how the brats shouldn’t even be out this late at night while Robin kept reminding him to please concentrate on the road and save the chewing-out for the kids themselves. He parked at the end of the road, which was barely more than cracked asphalt and a toppled over concrete divider, the Street Ends sign long since stolen. The dark trees loomed tall and slender, a sparse barrier at the end of the small field that was only half lit by a flickering yellow street light, but Steve could already tell that’s where the kids had gone. He could smell them in the air and saw the trampled spots where they’d walked their bikes through the tall grass. A dog barked in the distance, agitated. He nodded at their trail and looked at Robin, said, “Let’s go,” and took off.

Robin kept pace with him easily as they loped through the trees. Even with the moon almost new they could see their way without difficulty, lacking most colour but seeing every detail; each scuff in the dirt from a tire and their muddy footprints standing out in the quiet forest. Their scents grew stronger too, and alongside it, something else. Something Steve had smelled earlier. He ran faster.

Voices began to filter through the woods. The kids were, unsurprisingly, arguing. By the time Steve and Robin crashed through the underbrush and ran into the Party, who screamed.

“Holy shi– be quiet! It’s us!” Steve shouted. While the kids did shut up – thank god – they all glared at him.

“What did you think would happen, Steve?” Dustin yelled back, arms flailing, “Warn us next time! That’s what the walkie is for!”

“I forgot it in the car since you idiots told me you were in the woods with a dead werewolf. How do you even know they’re a werewolf anyway, they–” Words caught in his throat as Robin choked back a scream. Finally, Steve turned his attention to the body on the ground behind the row of kids. “They’re human when they’re dead.”

They were supposed to be, at least. Steve hadn’t killed a werewolf before, hadn’t had to. Even when Billy went feral he refused to do it. They were still people and it was the one line Steve refused to cross as a hunter. He knew, though, that when a werewolf is killed in wolf form, they shift back into a human. So why was this one still a werewolf?

The body looked like every other werewolf Steve had seen when shifted: elongated limbs tipped in blunted claws, distinctive feet, brown fur everywhere, a clear mix of human and wolf. A ripped white shirt and torn blue jeans still clung to the body in spots, like they didn’t have time to get them off before they shifted. The only difference was the head. Or lack of one.

Steve shoved the nearest kid behind him – Lucas, who he could feel was shaking slightly – and stepped forward, unable to take his eyes off the stump of a neck. Dark blood, almost dried to blackish-brown, spilled down the werewolf’s chest, worsened by gashes left by, Steve guessed, the werewolf’s own claws, which were bloodied too. The cut was disturbingly clean. Level. Whatever weapon had done this was sharp. Bile rose in Steve’s throat.

“Turn around,” he said, somehow managing to not sound sick, looking back at the Party. Lucas and Will already had, the latter standing with his arms wrapped tight around his chest, but Mike was still half-turned, like he couldn’t take his eyes off it, and Dustin stared at the body with an analytical gleam that would unsettle Steve if he didn’t already know what these kids had gone through. Still. “Dustin, turn around.”

“We’ve been looking at it for ten minutes, Steve, it’s fine,” Dustin retorted, but Steve grabbed him by the shoulders and forced him to face a very pale Robin, who still had her hands over her mouth.

“You shouldn’t have seen it in the first place! What the hell were you thinking, coming out here at night?”

Mike spoke up this time, sounding like he’d swallowed something disgusting. “We were patrolling.”

With a sigh that felt much too heavy for his age, Steve dragged a hand down his face. “You’re children. You don’t patrol.”

“We’re fifteen! You were partying! We couldn’t leave the town unprotected–”

“I was at a party because you told me to go to,” he interrupted Dustin sharply, “and I told you to stay home.” These kids were going to drive him into an early grave through stress alone. When Dustin opened his mouth again to argue back, Steve hissed, “Zip it! You’re in the wrong here.” The kid crossed his arms and scowled at Steve, but gave in.

Now that they were silent, Steve cast his gaze around the scene. He couldn’t see any sign of the missing head. There were signs of a struggle, though. Claw marks scored into tree bark to the left, large paw prints and faint shoe treads that could have looked like a dance. Next to the body, though, Steve saw scraps of fabric and bent down.

They were soft and black. Nothing like what the werewolf wore. A flash of a logo, some kind of yellow-and-red lettering, stood out on the corner of a larger scrap. Steve heard Dustin whisper, “Shit.”

Steve's head whipped around. “What?”

“Nothing!” He answered too quickly, too high-pitched. Steve could hear the skip in his heart, and though that wasn’t a reliable tell it wasn’t nothing.

“Dustin, you have to tell him,” Lucas said.

“Tell me what?”

The Party didn’t speak. Eyes flitting between them, Steve caught sight of Dustin’s clenched fist stuck deep into his pocket. He raised an expectant eyebrow.

“It’s Eddie’s. Eddie’s shirt.” Will’s voice was quiet and empty.

That’s when it hit Steve. The smell. He’d known it was blood when he and Robin had run into the kids, saw the corpse. But now he knew he’d smelled it earlier – at the party. From Eddie and Chrissy.

Read chapter 2 now on ao3!!

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