#apologies to dustin

[livwritesstuff]

happy valentine's day pallies <3 threw this the office-inspired drabble together for funsies over the last few days and thought today was a good a day as any to finally post

“What the hell is wrong with Dustin?” Eddie asked as he walked through the open door to Robin and Nancy’s apartment, “I passed him in the hall and he’s ranting and raving like a goddamn lunatic. Barely even acknowledged me.”

“You got lucky,” Steve shook his head as the rest of the Party, scattered around the living room, gave a similarly over it-kind of response, “Also – hey. Missed you.”

Eddie dropped down onto the couch next to Steve and planted a kiss on his cheek.

“Ugh,” Robin groaned from the other end of the couch, “Either get a room or be gross later.”

“Missed you more, my love,” Eddie said loudly and pointedly as he settled in, and Steve ignored the way Robin rolled her eyes as Eddie draped an arm over his shoulders, “So…Dustin? What’s his deal?”

“He thinks he’s never gonna find love,” Lucas said from his spot on the rug, mouth full of half-crunched chips.

“Because he hasn’t dated anyone since Suzie,” Will clarified.

Steve watched Eddie’s eyebrows furrow.

“Uh, okay, didn’t they split, like, a month ago?”

“Yep,” Mike nodded.

“And didn’t Dustin just say last week that he’s happily married to his studies?”

“Dude,” Mike replied, “If you hadn’t been thirty minutes late, you would have seen us ask him these exact same questions.”

“Alright, gimme a fuckin’ break, man,” Eddie protested as Robin stuck a foot out and clipped the side of Mike’s head, “Not all of us are in college, asshole, living our most carefree lives. Some of us have jobs we're societally obligated to hold onto, Michael.”

“Anyway,” Steve cut in before Mike and Eddie’s bickering could derail the discussion too badly, “Dustin is apparently so desperate for love or whatever now that he’s trying to crowdsource a relationship.”

“And we’ve all been drafted,” Max said drily, “He wants us to set him up with someone at least once a month.”

“Each,” El added from beside Max in the armchair they're squashed in together.

“Each,” Max repeated with a nod.

“Jesus Christ,” Eddie blinked, “He needs to chill out.”

Eddie got a chorus of agreements in response, plus another snarky comment from Mike about how he could have told Dustin this himself if he hadn’t been late to their weekly movie night hangout, and then from there, the conversation spun into the Party’s usual overlapping pre-movie (waiting for the pizza to be delivered) chatter.

Eddie turned his attention to Steve.

“So who’s the lucky girl you’re siccing our deranged little buddy on?” he asked, voice just loud enough for Steve to hear over the surrounding conversations.

“I dunno,” Steve shrugged, catching Eddie's hand in his and starting to fiddle with the chunky ring on his pointer finger, “I don’t think anyone here is gonna put up with his shit, but…yeah, I dunno, I feel bad. I might try setting him up with Lauren – y’know, Andie’s friend she has over all the time?”

Andie is Steve’s roommate, who took Robin’s spot on the lease after Robin, the woman she is, U-Hauled with Nancy at a spectacular rate (barely a month into her and Steve’s lease). Steve couldn’t exactly blame her – Nancy’s brownstone is leagues (and leagues and leagues and leagues) nicer than the shitty walk-up he and Robin had barely been able to afford at the time. Plus, Robin was all kinds of apologetic about it – paid her half of the rent and everything until she found a suitable subletter.

Enter Andie, a women’s and gender studies major who Robin had met at their school’s SGA during her first semester of undergrad and who leans pretty much as far to the right on the good ol' Kinsey Scale as someone could. Both Steve and Andie had been a little on the fence at first, but as far as living with a half-stranger goes, he can admit that it actually went okay.

Case in point, he and Andie are both a good few years out of college now and neither of them have made any move to, y'know...move.

“Lauren?” Eddie repeated, “You mean, Andie’s straight friend? The one Andie is very actively and overtly trying to woo?”

“It’s not gonna work,” Steve insisted (because this has been a topic of conversation between the two of them for a while), “If she’s straight, she’s straight.”

“Well, yeah,” Eddie acknowledged, “But it’s not her I'd be worried about, Stevie.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“C’mon, Steve – it’s basically a lose-lose for you. If Dustin goes on a date with Andie’s straight friend that she is, once again, very overtly and obviously into, whether or not it goes well – whether or not it even happens, Steve – Andie’s gonna find out that you were the one behind it, and you’re living with her.”

“So?”

“Dude, you’re gonna get booted outta your place.”

“No way,” Steve scoffed at him.

“I’m telling you – hell hath no fury like a lesbian scorned. Have you seen Nancy at the bar when someone is trying to hit on Robin? The big guy in the clouds was cutting from the same cloth when he created these ladies.”

Steve rolled his eyes at his boyfriend's brand of ex-Catholic poetic.

“Well…whatever. It’s just an apartment. If Andie really has an issue…I dunno, I’ll just move.”

Eddie grinned at him.

“Oh really?” he says, “And who do you think’s gonna be taking you in? You’re a crazy neat-freak, you think it’s totally appropriate to watch sports during breakfast – I mean, seriously, I get wanting to watch Sunday Night Football or whatever, but listening to recaps before I've had a cup of coffee is borderline criminal – and you've got basically a thousand houseplants.”

“Yeah,” Steve gave a feigned nod of understanding, “Maybe I’ll just move in with my boyfriend – he could use some order in his life.”

“Okay,” Eddie said, straightening a little in his seat, “I’m in if you are, Stevie-boy.”

Steve felt his face fall just a little. He tried to laugh it off, but even he could hear how awkward it sounded, and he glanced around to make sure the rest of the Party was otherwise occupied.

“I mean...," he said slowly, keeping his eyes on their hands so he didn't have to look at Eddie and his ever-expressive face, "I’m not gonna move in with someone unless we’re getting married.”

He really won’t either.

He’d done that before with his first serious boyfriend a few years ago – it was kind of a U-Haul situation in its own right, and it’s how Steve’s apartment became Andie’s apartment that Steve pretty please asked to move back into four months later when everything went to shit with the boyfriend.

(Their landlord had raised an eyebrow at them when they asked to put Steve back on the lease he’d only just left, but he didn’t ask any questions.

“He probably thinks we’re, like, a total dysfunctional couple or something,” Andie had pointed out.

“If only he knew,” Steve shook his head, “He’s leasing to a pair of idiot queers who can’t get their love lives together.”)

So, yeah, the U-Hauling thing may work for lesbians (or, two very specific lesbians whose couch he's sitting on, at the very least), but it’s not for Steve.

He’s a little too intense for it, contradictory as it sounds. He’s been burned in the past by the notion that someone could be willing to take a step as big as moving in with someone, and yet still see their relationship as “unserious” enough to balk at other big things (things like meeting each other’s friends and family, and what to do if Steve had another seizure). He’s not interested in being burned again, thanks.

Not that he actually thinks Eddie would do anything like that – the opposite actually. Steve knows he won’t.

For as long as he and Eddie were friends, Steve had known it in a kind of way he didn't even think about, and he's known it in another way, in a way he couldn't not think about, ever since he eavesdropped on a conversation between Robin and Eddie.

“Steve’s boyfriend is a fucking asshole and I hate him,” Robin had said, because this was back when Steve was dating (and living with) his ex, who did turn out to be a colossal fucking asshole, but this was the first time Steve had heard that particular opinion voiced by one of his friends.

“Shit, okay," Eddie had replied, "Do I need to go kick someone’s ass?”

Robin had paused for a split second before saying, “No. You’d just finally decide to confess your love for him and make everything even messier than it already is.”

They'd both been quiet for another few moments, and then Eddie let out a frustrated sigh.

"Fuck, man, that blows." Another pause. "I just – I don't understand how anybody could get to have Steve like that and not worship every breath he takes. I'm telling you – if it were me, you'd be able to break me down into fuckin' molecules and still be able to find him there. He's the sun in the fuckin' sky, dude. How are people not getting this?"

Steve hadn't been able take any more than that, not without feeling like something within him would split in two, so he had gone back to getting snacks in the kitchen like Eddie and Robin had thought he was doing, and then he'd spent the rest of the night feeling a little nauseous in a way he couldn't explain.

To this day, Steve is pretty sure that neither Robin nor Eddie know that he'd overheard their conversation, but it's what led to him breaking up with his boyfriend nonetheless.

Nothing had happened between Steve and Eddie at first. Eddie had actually been in his own relationship at the time, despite his and Robin' conversation, though they inexplicably split only a month after Steve’s break-up (Eddie never gave the Party a reason why).

Not too long after that though, Eddie had shown up on Steve’s doorstep (in a goddamn rainstorm, no less, the theatrical bastard) to profess his undying love, and by then Steve had spent enough time reflecting on the last several years of his friendship with Eddie and had firmly landed on the conclusion that he was in love with him too.

And so here they are now.

Steve spared a quick glance at Eddie to see that he was wearing a cute, kind of confused look.

“Wait – Steve, have I not proposed to you yet?”

And Eddie's truly dumbfounded tone, Eddie's way of bringing Steve's attention back up to his face so Steve could see the cheeky grin he's still wearing, had relief flooding through Steve's veins and washing away any doubt or insecurity or fear because, as Steve might have let himself forget, this is Eddie.

“I don’t think so…” Steve replied, then he flipped their clasped hands over to show his unmistakably ringless ring finger, “Nope.”

“Huh. Well…look out, Stevie, ‘cuz that’s coming.”

“Oh really?” Steve asked, and now he’s got a big smile growing on his face too, and he ignored the way his heart was thrumming over what Eddie had just divulged to him, how matter-of-fact, how certain he'd sounded when he said it.

“Uh-huh,” Eddie nodded, and Steve is so in love with him it nearly hurts.

“You mean, like, right now?” Steve continued, still feigning confusion, still keeping up the bit like they weren't having a huge, important, real conversation right now, because they hadn’t been together that long, all things considered, and yet Steve wasn’t surprised to hear any of this because he felt it too.

Eddie rolled his eyes, “Not right now. Have a little faith, darling. Now would be pathetically unromantic.”

“Hmm,” Steve hummed his agreement, though a small part of him could acknowledge that now – happy and surrounded by all their friends – wouldn’t be the worst way to get engaged, but Eddie hadn't lost any of his flair for dramatics over the years, so he's not exactly surprised to hear that Eddie is picturing something more.

“I got it all planned out, don’t you worry," Eddie told him, looking all kinds of proud, “And it’s gonna knock your socks off, Steve Harrington.”

"Alright," Steve said as Eddie leaned away, leaned back into conversation with their friends, a tight squeeze to Steve's hand his only acknowledgement of the sheer magnitude of the conversation they'd just had, "I've been warned."

[morganbritton132]

Part 3 to this

Eddie was completely willing to let bygones be what they were.

He did a shitty thing unintentionally. Steve has been doing shitty things for years with zero consequences. They’re even, right?

It’s not like he’s ever going to see Steve again anyways. He doesn’t throw parties anymore and Eddie doesn’t even have a VCR to warrant going into Family Videos.

So, bygones. As in, bye, gone to the stabbing feeling in his chest when he thinks about what happened for too long.

“Robin Buckley’s being weird.”

Eddie blinks back into the chaotic mess of the art room, “Isn’t she always weird?”

“I mean,” Jeff shrugs. “She been glaring at you the entire class. Did the same thing yesterday, too. I don’t even think she’s blinking.”

Eddie looked over his canvas and, yeah. She’s glaring at him. He turns his frown upside down and gives her a little wave which - “Oh. Oh no.”

“Dude,” Jeff hisses. “She’s coming over here.”

The nervous energy that typically hovers around a Robin is strangely absent when she stops next to his table. It’s a little intimidating. As is her cryptic ass greeting, “It’s been four days. You need to apologize.”

“For what?” He asks and then realizes what this is. “Did Steve Harrington really send his coworker to bully me?”

“I’m more than his coworker,” She scoffs. “And that’s not the point. You need to apologize to him. For-.”

“Apologize for what, not watering my club down to make him comfortable?”

Thats not what happened and Eddie knows it. He knows he crossed a line but he doesn’t understand it and it makes him defensive. He can’t make himself shut up, “You can tell him I’m sorry he can’t take a joke.”

Robin’s eyes narrow and then she turns around, calling across the room, “Mrs Keller, does this paint stain?”

“It’s washable.”

Robin nods once to the teacher and then immediately turns around and flips Eddie’s paint tray into his lap. She grabs the bottle of paint he was using and coats him in blue paint before dropping the bottle on the floor.

Her voice is low and unapologetic even as she grabs a handful of napkins for him, “He doesn’t even want an apology. Do it anyways.”

Eddie is left stunned, as is their deathly quiet class, but Robin just turns to the teacher and declares, “I will accept my detention now.”

[lavenderstobins]

thinking abt steve having this shift from loving people so much that he’d die for them to loving people so much that he’d live for them. he makes robin laughs and he thinks that he wants to hear her laugh forever. dustin grins at him and he realises he never wants to see him sad

[unknowns-musical]

You know what, I'm gonna say this and you guys might hate me for it... But Flattop and Dustin are the Timon and Pumba of the show. They both fit the trope of the big sweet heart and smaller chaotic friend duo. But also Timon and Pumba like insects, Flattop and Dustin have interest in building materials.

[lunabug2004]

I'm so sorry, I love El and I love Max to death, they're my girls...

but I will never ever feel comfortable with them spying on the boys. It makes me so unbelievably uncomfortable. Literally makes my skin crawl, I hate it so so much. Easily my least favorite plotpoint (if you can even call it that?) of the season.

[formosusiniquis]

intrada (sugar plum holly and her cavalier)

Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson; Steve Harrington & Holly Wheeler; Past Steve Harrington/Nancy Wheeler WC: 5708 | G | Tags/Themes: ballet, references to The Nutcracker, pre-relationship steddie, good babysitter Steve Harrington AO3

It was supposed to be a date that would merge their interests, something that had seemed classy enough for Nancy and athletic enough that Steve thought it would keep his interest. Supposed to be, in that when Steve had gotten the tickets -- begged his mom first for her and his dad’s season ticket seats and then for help finding a good seat when she said she wasn’t about to waste a sixty dollar ticket on a date -- he wasn’t even sure if it was the kind of thing Nancy would like. A year and a half into their relationship and he was only just realizing how surface level their conversations were, either talking about work or treating every conversation like an interview and parceling out information like they were afraid to reveal too much about themselves. So he was really working off of a jewelry box he vaguely remembered from her bedroom when he bought tickets for a ballet that wouldn’t even happen for another five months.

He wanted to have them when she got to Indianapolis, something to look forward to for their first Christmas together in the city. The Nutcracker, a classic supposedly but if anyone would know its cultural significance he figured it would be Nance.

And Steve isn’t an idiot, okay. He knows that Nancy isn’t exactly thrilled to be in Indianapolis, knows that she’s not happy to be at her safety school and not Emerson. Imagines having to wait to see if she made it up the waitlist all summer wasn’t the greatest experience; and he has to imagine because any time he wanted to talk to her about it she blew him off to focus on alternatives and next steps.

That’s why he does it. Hopes that having something to look forward to at the end of her first semester will help. Hopes that this is the first of many Christmases together, maybe a tradition that they can keep up. Going to the ballet together every year until eventually they’re bringing their daughter along with them. Maybe it’s too early to think about kids, but this is the kind of future he prefers to imagine over future careers and what he’s going to do with the degree he’s stumbling his way through. So he thinks about Nancy with pinned back curls in a nice dress humming along to songs they hear every year.

It was supposed to be that. Until it turns out that their relationship really couldn’t withstand being in the same city as one another. Until he’s forced to confront the hindsight that they never really talked about anything significant in the year they were doing long distance. Until Nancy tells him that she’s transferring next semester, and she isn’t interested in doing long distance; that she isn’t interested in continuing their relationship at all.

So Steve resigns himself to just being out the money for the two tickets. It’s not like he’s going to go to a ballet by himself, and it seems shitty to bring another girl to something that he imagined becoming a staple of his romantic future with Nancy. It’s not the first time Steve has cut his losses. (But he’ll die before he tells his mom she was right about not giving him her good seats.)

He honestly kind of forgets about the whole thing. Finals week has just ended. He’s pretty sure he flunked the one actual business course he took this semester to keep his dad happy, and he’s trying to figure out if he can change his major without screwing his whole life up. He’s ready to have a few weeks off. 

Then Karen Wheeler calls.

Karen is a nice lady, though if he’s honest he’s not that upset that she isn’t going to be his future mother-in-law. She’s a little… flighty, as his mother would say with a backhanded smile. He privately thinks she sometimes forgets that she has three kids, losing track of one or the other at any given time. So maybe he shouldn’t be too surprised when she calls him two months after her daughter broke his heart begging him to take Holly to the ballet.

“Nancy mentioned it off hand months ago, and Holly hasn’t stopped talking about it since. I know it’s a big ask,” she had said in a tone that made it very clear she didn’t entirely care and would think poorly of him if he answered the wrong way, “but if you still have those tickets it would mean the world if you could take Holly.” He hadn’t missed the emphasis on the you either. Clearly Karen had no interest in making the trip to Indianapolis and he hadn’t needed to ask about Ted.

He didn't think of himself as a pushover, but he did think of little, blonde, six year old Holly: too quiet and too shy for her age. Fighting to be seen by a negligent dad and a mom who loves her children, but cares about appearances just enough to be blind. And he finds himself saying, “It’s no trouble, Mrs. Wheeler, but could you meet me somewhere halfway?”

It’s not until they’re settled into their seats -- on the floor but in the back, a booth behind them occupied by a pretty boy in a headset that Steve refuses to look at for too long -- that he realizes that he has no idea what this show is even about. Holly has been quiet since he picked her up, the least surprising thing about this trip right above Mike glaring at him from the passenger seat of Karen’s car as he moved Holly’s booster seat, but she’s studiously flipping through the little booklet the usher handed them on their way to their seats.

“Thank you for bringing me, Steve. I’m sorry Nancy didn’t want to come.” It is somehow simultaneously the longest and worst thing Holly has ever said to him.

“I’d rather see it with you, Holly Jolly.”

He’s saved from having to find anything else to say by the lights around them dimming, a prerecorded voice letting them know that any photography is forbidden and to expect a fifteen minute intermission, a bright and bouncing song picks up once the talking stops. He relaxes in his seat a little, relieved to get a few minutes before he’s expected to entertain a six year old that he’s spent more time with today than he had the entire time he and Nancy had dated.

Now Steve, contrary to what he very much knows is the popular opinion, isn’t just a jock. He knows there’s no talking in ballet. He’s even been to one before this, when he was still a cute novelty in his suit and bowtie accompanying his parents to the theater. What he is, according to his old nanny, every teacher he’s ever had, and about half of his exes, is a selective listener. 

It’s not his fault though that his brain instinctively cues into different sounds. The buzz of the light above him louder -- and more interesting -- than a lesson on factorials. The sound of someone’s relationship imploding hard to tune out no matter how interested he is in his own conversation. So of course the sound of someone talking cuts straight through classical music.

“Someone remind David he needs to smile at his partner, he looks like he’s dreaming of a murder suicide.”

And it wasn’t hard to find exactly who the voice behind him was talking about. The only frowning face at this Victorian party who was glaring daggers at the magician who was bringing in new dancers.

“Well he should know better than to sleep around the cast shouldn’t he, Birdie?”

A practiced reader of body language, Steve could almost see, underneath the choreography, the traces of impropriety. David’s undisguised glare. The wistful way the woman in blue tracked him around the stage. The woman in pink who mooned at the woman in blue. It made him wonder what kind of things were going on backstage.

He expects that to be in. He doesn’t really do theater much, too many memories of pinched arms and snarling trips home, but he does remember the one rule is no talking. But it doesn’t stop, barely slows.

“If Mark sets himself on fire doing this stupid firepaper magic shit do we get to go home early?

“Sure, Robbie Bobby, I’ll swap out for the Rat King last show of the run. Jay can do my job and I’ll do his.

“Five bucks someone slips on the snow as they exit.”

He wants to know if that stranger wins the bet but the curtain closes and Holly is shy and asking Steve where the bathroom is. So instead of working up the nerve to turn and talk to the man behind him, he’s smiling his best mom-charming smile and asking the first woman with kids he finds to take his guest into the girl’s room.

By the time she’s out of line, and Steve buys her the doll and the novelty sucker she’d been pretending she wasn’t looking at, they slip back into their seats as the lights dim again. No chance to make his own witty jokes or observations, break the ice and show off some of the Harrington charm.

The first dance goes by with little fanfare and Steve’s almost disappointed. Holly is wiggling excitedly in her seat next to him, clutching her own little nutcracker, and he’s not even paying attention to the stupid show that’s got her so excited because he’s too focused on a snarky stranger he’d only even looked at once.

“Jeezus christ, is Tom stuffing his dance belt? That’s some Bowie level shit happening up there.”

He had almost given up, so it figures the guy decides to speak up once Steve’s attention started to shift back to the stage. He nearly chokes on his own tongue, eyes darting straight down to the issue in question. Holly, the sweetest kid he’s ever met, pats his back softly, hesitantly, like she’s only seen the gesture before. “There’s a water fountain by the bathroom,” she tells him in a library whisper, “I can stay here and not move.”

“I’m okay Hols,” he lies, ignoring the itchy, squeezing feeling at the back of his throat and forcing the cough away.

It’s easy to do when there's something else to focus on, “No, Lizzie, I’m not going to shut up. No one cares if I’m occupying the channel.” The stranger seems to be gearing himself up for a monologue, “I’m not going to miss my cue, I am the cue. Robin’s not going to miss her cue  because it’s to music. Her cue doesn’t exist without me and she knows all of these songs and what note her cue goes with because it’s the eighth fucking time we’ve done it this week. If you or props have something you’ve got to say clearly you can get a word in edgewise.”

A few numbers go by after that, quiet except for the occasional professional, “Light cue, go.”

And then a song he actually sort of recognizes starts. A pretty strawberry blonde with a dainty smile tip toes and spins across the stage to plucked strings. Holly is enchanted, perched at the edge of her seat she reaches a hand over to clutch at Steve’s sleeve. A ‘tell me someone in the world is experiencing this moment with me’ sort of gesture. Awestruck and world rocked, stars in her eyes. Any resentment, any hard feelings that might have still lingered at babysitting evaporated. He got to be the person that let Holly experience this. A moment just for her, no family to take second place for.

The dancer on stage spins, clearing the floor in a series of tight, controlled rotations. Her arms guiding each step, swinging out and pulling her in, the driving force of her momentum. She’s moving fast, it’s an impressive display. Something shoots off in the opposite direction of that controlled turn, almost distracting in its break from that clean motion.

“Tell Props Chris just lost an earring.

“Fine, tell Wardrobe then.

“I’m not being a creep, I know she’s your girlfriend, Birdie. I merely observed her earring launching across the stage like an arrow from an elven bow.”

It’s like catching half of an Abbott and Costello act, like who’s on first being done through a telephone. It’s a strange sort of connection, listening in on a conversation that isn’t meant for him. He thinks for a sad second that he hasn’t ever had a friendship like this.

The show is wrapping up, dancers from scenes past making their way through for quick appearances. Holly is vibrating in her seat. Dancers in intricate costumes glide across the stage to bow toward the petite dancer in the nightgown and the strawberry blonde, Chris, beside her. A few moments later it's finished, the lights rising up around them and he shifts his primary focus back to Holly. 

In the middle of the room, they had the best view of the stage and the longest wait to leave. Steve tries to be subtle as he shifts Holly in front of him, afraid of losing her if she's out of his eyeline. He doesn't want to baby her by making her hold his hand. She's wiggling in place, but she keeps herself small. Careful not to bump into the people slowly moving out of the aisle in front of them. 

“Hols,” he starts to whisper, not wanting to embarrass her before he asks if she needs to hit the bathroom again.

But she grabs his sleeve in a child's iron grip,  "Steve, I want to meet the princess."

It turns out, it's hard to find a way to tell an excited kid that there aren't meet and greets after a show like this. Pleading blue eyes and a nervous smile looking up at him, desperate but scared to ask for too much. The least he can do is try.

The guy behind them is still there. 

The back of their line, Steve isn't holding anyone up by taking a minute to look. He's lithe, all in black. Hair pulled up in a half-assed bun, a headset tangled in the curls. He's wrapping up a thick cord, Steve couldn't guess why, but it draws focus to a toned arm that he's curling it around.

“Hey man,” the booth is a little bit above them, forcing Steve to rise up on the tips of his own toes to make sure he's visible, “I know you're working but I wanted to ask. The girl at the end- I, uh, I overheard you say she's your friend's girlfriend is there anyway you could convince her to come meet us.”

The guy startled a bit, probably surprised at being addressed. If he’s embarrassed at being overheard it barely shows a soft flush that could be from the warmth of the room. "The girl at the end?”

"The princess,” Holly shouts, bouncing up and down to try to see over the lip that blocks her view of the booth.

A change falls over the guy, his smile softens and eyes widen. He carefully drapes himself across the board of buttons and sliders to look Holly in the eyes. "Oh she's even better than a princess, she's a fairy. The sugar plum fairy. Is this your first time seeing the show with your dad?”

“Steve's not my dad.” She tells him with a little giggle, no doubt comparing Steve and Ted in her brain.

“Holly is my ex-girlfriend’s little sister.” He places his emphasis carefully.

“There’s a lot happening in that sentence.”

“Yeah.”

“Well, my Lady Holly, I bet I could convince Chrissy to meet a fan.” He promises with a flourish, “As long as your companion doesn't care that her faithful company will definitely be there the whole time.”

“Are you part of the group?” Steve asks, confident enough in his read of the situation to lay on a bit of charm. Letting his eyes trail down the sprawl of the guy's back. A thrill of victory at the little nod he gets back. “Then I won't mind at all.”

“Rockin’ Robin, tell me you still have your headset on?” He directs into his headset, “Great, remember that favor you and Chris owe me? I've got a fair princess who would like to meet our dear Sugar Plum Fairy.”

There's a lengthy pause. Even without the music playing the response is too quiet to be made out through his headset. “I don't see how that's relevant.” He hisses, “and she didn't ask to see an awful hag so you don't really even need to be there.”

His face clears after a second, looking to Steve like he wants them both to pretend that the earlier conversation hadn't been overheard. “Go through that door at the end of the front row right beside the stage.” The auditorium has cleared out enough he's got a clear view of the door the guy points to. “You'll end up in a hallway with a locked door at the end, wait there.”

“And if someone asks us why we're waiting there?” Steve asks, “I can tell them..?”

“Eddie, I'm- I Eddie Munson told you to wait there, if someone stops you before I get there.”

It's hard not to grin now that he has a name, Eddie, so he doesn’t bother. He puts on his best smile, the boyish and winsome one that always flusters whoever it's directed at, at least a little. Eddie is no exception looking back down at his work quickly. Steve takes a little pity, turning his attention back down to Holly.

She's twisting in place, hands clasped in front of her, as she stares off into space. He feels bad immediately, too familiar with what it's like to be a kid forced to entertain yourself while adults talk above your head.“C’mon, Holly Jolly, let's go wait for your fairy.” 

She takes his hand the second it's offered, swinging it back and forth, humming one of the songs from the show. “Steve, do you think she's a fairy like Tinkerbell or a fairy princess like Barbie?”

“I don't know Hols, what do you think?”

“Tinkerbell is kinda mean to Wendy, but she can do magic and fly. But Barbie is really nice so if she were a fairy she'd be a fairy princess and have a crown and help people.”

“Oh really?”

“Yes! And this fairy looked nice when she was dancing, but it didn't look like she had a crown. Can you be a fairy princess without a crown?”

Holly was buzzing, bouncing in place, clearly over whatever earlier nerves she'd had about talking to him. With her back to the door that they were told to wait by, she’s started listing all the different jobs Barbie has had and why they should make a fairy princess doll -- Karen’s homemade Barbie clothes, he learns, are not as well made as the hand me downs from Erica and Mrs. Sinclair, so she needs the real thing. Holly misses the way the door creaks open, the woman from onstage inching her way out of the half opened exit. 

Chrissy presses a finger to her lips, happy to help her surprise Holly, Steve keeps listening to her talk about why there should be a Barbie movie. He only nearly ruins the surprise when the dancer pushes down on the front of her saucer like skirt and it smacks her in the back as it flies up, letting her exit the back room.

Focused on her story, Holly doesn’t notice as the woman crouches down beside her. Not until she says, “This must be the princess I was told about.”

The screech she lets out is so joyful he almost doesn’t mind that his ears are ringing. Steve finds his smile mirrored on a freckle-faced girl dressed in the same all black as Eddie who is sliding out the door now as well. She sidles up to Steve, letting Holly have her moment with the fairy uninterrupted. “And you must be the prince charming.”

“Shut up, shut up,” Eddie pants, coming to a bent over rest beside Steve, “whatever she’s saying ignore it. Fuck.”

“You jogged like twenty feet,” the girl says, clearly unimpressed.

“Sorry Nancy Reagan, I say yes every time.”

“There are children present, have some class, Munson.”

The child in question could be on another planet, that’s how much she’s aware of their existence, Steve thinks.

“I have class every Monday, Wednesday, Friday; Saturdays are fair game.”

“Oh! That’s why you look so familiar,” the girl says, she’s looking at Steve now but he’s not really sure why. “We were in the same Communications and Public Speaking class, Prince Charming. Steve, right?”

He did have that class last semester, the only one technically tied to the business major his dad wanted him to have that he actually passed. “I, yes- sorry I don’t. I spent most of that class zoned out waiting for my turn to speak.”

“No, yeah, I figured. You sat a row in front of me and always looked shocked when you got called on, then you’d brush your bagel crumbs all over the floor when you’d go to speak.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, not really sure what to say to that especially not when it’s being said right in front of a guy he was kind of into.

“Birdie holds the strangest grudges in the history of the world, take it as a sign of respect, Big Boy. She hated me for half of our music theory class because my handwriting didn’t look like it matched my general demeanor.”

“No, I hated you because you always smell like weed and never do the homework but somehow are still the professor’s favorite. And I still hate you for all of those things, but your unfortunate personality grew like mold on my girl- I mean grew on,” her face takes on a look of panic as she pivots her word choice. It’s confusing, at first, until he realizes he’s the source of panic. A familiar joke made with a friend, forgetting the new, possibly untrustworthy stranger until too late.

The siren song of new friends and a possible date is alluring, but with Holly in the room he does have to be careful of what gets back to her parents. He remembers Ted’s political alignments and gossip tends to reach his parents faster than he can. So he does his best at assurance, “Chrissy, right, she seems cool. It was nice of you guys to do this, Holly is probably only a little bit more into fairies than I am.”

Eddie sputters beside him, hard to tell if it’s a good sign or if Steve has just royally fucked up his chances at anything; but if it means easing Robin’s fears of queerbashing he’ll ruin his chance for a date every time.

“Into fairies,” Robin asks, nodding over to Chrissy, who’s showing Holly how she balances on the tips of her toes, “or…”

“I’m light in my loafers, or half, light in one-”

“Ex-girlfriend,” Eddie supplies.

“Right.”

“Worst way anyone has ever described being bisexual,” Robin says. 

“Sounds like a challenge,” Eddie says.

“It was not.”

“I really appreciate this,” Steve says again to avoid the argument. Chrissy is helping Holly spin around on the toes of her patent leather mary janes, she’s giggling as Chrissy holds her pointed finger helping her twirl and twirl. “How’d you all get involved in all this? You’re still in school.”

“They always need a little help around the holidays, normally the theater kids get first dibs but there’s only like five tech kids and they’re all working the school show so the music department gets next go.” Robin explains.

“Chis is a prodigy so she put in a word for us specifically,” Eddie adds. Before he leers and leans deep into Steve’s space, it’s not an unwelcome move. “Unless that was you fishing for friends, Big Boy. Trying to figure out if you’ll see us on campus?”

“Oh,” Robin exclaims, like the thought had never occurred to her. “Are you finished with your gen eds? Wait, what's your major? Eddie, show off your party trick.”

He isn’t a total loser, so he doesn’t fidget or blush as Eddie runs his heady brown eyes up and down the length of him, taking him in. “Business and Marketing,” he declares after a second, but he doesn’t sound sold on it.

“I’ve been thinking about changing it,” Steve isn’t sure if he’s admitting Eddie’s right or just trying out what it sounds like to admit that he’s sick of being everything he’s supposed to be instead of what he likes. “I took Children’s Psychology for the whatever requirement and it was a million times more interesting than Intro to Econ.”

It feels like it’s going well. When Nancy broke things off Steve had resigned himself to finishing out college without any real friends, dating around and hoping for something that stuck. Here with these people, he can feel something starting. He wants to take that feeling and capitalize on it, follow through on something so another good thing doesn’t slip away from him.

That’s not the kind of luck that he has though. 

“Steve,” Holly buzzes, grabbing his hand with no hesitation, “Fairy Chrissy said that I can be a dancer too! Can Santa bring me shoes like hers?”

Christmas is a week away, if Stever were guessing, he’d say the Wheelers have had Holly’s presents picked out and put away for most of the month. “I don’t know, Hols, Christmas is pretty close and the North Pole is pretty far. Do you think the mailman would have time to get all the way up there?”

Her shoulders slump, making Steve immediately feel like the worst person in the universe for crushing her dreams. “He's watching though, so I bet he saw you ask right now,” he does his best to smile, hoping it's comforting since it feels tight-lipped and desperate.

“Yeah!” She brightens, starts to hum along to the song just a little off pitch, getting more excited as she goes until she's murmuring, “Knows if you've been bad or good.”

“Hey Holly Jolly, why don't you tell Fairy Chrissy bye and thank you. We don't wanna be late to meet your mom.”

She's still singing but she nods, turning and shuffling back to Chrissy, still a few steps away.

“Would she know where to get those, Chrissy, the shoes that Holly would need?” He asks Eddie and Robin in a whisper, hoping Holly is distracted enough by her goodbyes that she won't hear.

“Are you..?” Eddie asks, a blush staining the tops of his exposed ears. “Ex-girlfriend?” 

The emphasis catches his attention and, yeah, he can see how that looks. “Her parents aren't going to drive up to the city before Christmas, but the town over does lessons.” Barriers to entry, that's what his marketing classes called it, maybe he did learn something. He wants to make it as easy as possible for Holly to get what she wants. “She's a good kid, she should get what she wants for Christmas.”

That blush spreads, bleeding down from his ears across his cheeks. “You're a good dude.”

“Steve, I said bye. Do we have to leave now?” Holly asks.

“Let me say bye too, Hols, and we'll grab a treat before we meet your Mom.”

There's a pen tucked behind Robin's ear that he snags before he can second guess what he's about to do. Grabbing her arm first, he scrawls his number across it. “I've got a place off campus, no roommates if you ever want someplace to hangout or to study,” he tells her. 

He grabs Eddie's hand next, rubbing his thumb along the palm and slowly writing the same number on his arm too. Keeping a hold of his hand for as long as he can. “I've got a place off campus, no roommates, if you ever want to come by and do something, have dinner?” He'll start there, let his interest be noted, and hope that Eddie is the type to like guys who dive in head first heedless of the water below. 

Steve can already imagine a future where he's sneaking into the booth with Eddie. Watching shows he's never heard of before with a warm commentary murmured into his ear. Gossip and behind the scenes rumor, distracting him from a plot that's less important than the company. Maybe next year, after double dates and a growing closeness, he'll be able to sneak Holly backstage and she can meet other dancers too.

Maybe next year, he'll be convincing Eddie, and the girls he hopes will be his new friends, to drive down to Hawkins with him to watch Holly do jumps and spins of her own in their small town showcase. Eddie was good with Holly, Steve hopes it isn't a fluke, he's always wanted kids.

He's probably getting ahead of himself. Falling into the same trap he'd built with Nancy that had gotten him here in the first place. The romantic in him wants to spin this all as fate, it could be true after all. 

Steve takes Holly's hand, they both wave goodbye, and leave the empty arts center. The winter sky is lit up by a full moon, fat snowflakes slowly float down to the ground beside them as they head back to his car, and for the first time since Nancy broke up with him he feels good about the future.

It's a long drive back to the McDonalds where he's meeting Karen, with Holly already dozing in the back seat, it's time that he can sit and be happy. Regardless of whether there's a message blinking on his machine to welcome him back home or not; what was supposed to be a relationship compromise ended up being the most fun he's had in weeks. So maybe Chrissy will tell him where to get Holly's shoes, maybe Robin will invite him for coffee or swing by to compare classes, and -- if he's really lucky -- maybe Eddie will invite himself over for dinner.

But, as he hums along to the waltz whose melody lingers in the back of his mind, the possibilities are something to look forward to.

[flatdustmaxxing]

Make sure to give your Flopt lots of hugs today 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

[wwfsummerscans]

Goldust and his lust for his Oscar

[okartichoke]

How'd dustin prince manage to die in the bird retelling??

dustin princes lives au

happy early dustin prince birthday 🎉🎉 (sept 6)

Funnily enough, I've thought about how so many cases would change to work with wings, but somehow forgot (fitting for 2-1) about one where the cause of death is falling

so the biggest different is wellington originally plans to cause brain damage/memory loss/kill with a hit to the head. fire extinguisher can be switched for any heavy item if you so please

so ummmmmm here’s what happened

(eventually ends up being pushed over the railing, just like as in canon, and is unable to slow the fall enough with just the one wing)

richard wellington is my favorite not-very-smart one trick pony 💙💙💙 (i’m sorry my king, dustin prince, for making your death so comical 🤎🤎).

TLDR: Murder goes the same as canon, but wellington breaks prince’s wing before pushing him.

thank you for the ask lol !

Btw, Prince is a house sparrow, and Wellington is a common blackbird. He bleaches a stripe in his wings just like his bangs. both are just common birds (much to wellingtons chagrin)

link to masterpost

[rangerstrings]

Do you guys ever just envision the characters somehow getting access to modern technology and losing their shit over an 80” 4k UHD Smart TV or something like that I think it would be funny

[xirayn]

A continuation of the merEddie AU based on the amazing art done by @maikaartwork. The ficlet for the kiss they drew is coming, Steve just needs to get some help first.

This is the first year Dustin is old enough to be a summer intern at Hawkins Aquarium and Institute of Marine Research. He spends his days educating guests on the animals and conservation efforts with weekly professional development and environmental advocacy courses. The position is also paid, which is nice, and he gets the aquarium practically to himself as he waits for Steve to finish up and give him a ride home.

He's watching the eastern rat snake climb her fake branch in search of a resting spot when Steve finds him an hour before he is usually done.

"I need to get into the restricted area of the aquarium," Steve states much to Dustin's surprise.

"Why?"

"The voice in my head needs help."

Dustin's eyes narrow. "Have you been talking to the lampreys again?"

"Yes, but they have nothing to do with this," Steve responds with an annoyed huff. Dustin is unconvinced.

"I think they might," he states plainly. "When was the last time you went on a date or talked with, I don't know, an actual human rather than a bunch of fish?"

"I talk to Robin all the time."

"Yet you won't date her."

"Boys and girls can be friends without -" Steve cuts himself off mid sentence. He sets his hands sternly on his hips. "You know what, this is getting us off-topic. Restricted area. Voice in my head. Plan. Go."

Dustin rolls his eyes. "That voice is called conscious thought, Steve."

"Ha ha. No. This was... something else. There is something - someone - who is hurt and alone, and I need to get them out."

"So we aren't just getting into the restricted area," Dustin observes, "we are getting whatever creature you think is calling you out?"

Steve hesitates for only a moment. That does sound pretty outlandish, but the call for help is still echoing in his mind. "Essentially. Yeah."

Dustin tilts his head in consideration. "How big is it?"

"What?"

"The creature," Dustin clarifies, "how big is it?"

"I don't know."

"Is it a siren trying to lure you onto the rocks or eat you?" An obvious question to Dustin, but a new one to Steve based on his look of surprise.

"A what? No. It doesn't want to eat me."

Sirens don't exist, for one. Except they might since there is something psychically communicating with Steve and they've run into things that supposedly didn't exist before.

"How do you know?" Dustin asks because if sirens do exist, it is a perfectly valid question.

"Because I felt it!" Steve throws his hands up. The snakes and other reptiles in the exhibits around them are as indifferent to the gesture as Dustin is. "It just needs help."

"Angler fish lure their prey in with a light on their-"

"I'm not prey!" Steve insists.

"Prey doesn't always know it's prey," Dustin counters.

"Then I get eaten, I guess, but I can't just ignore this. What they shared with me…" The mounting irritation drains from Steve's shoulder. Sorrow replaces it as he remembers the pain of captivity he was shown and the longing for home. "They just want to be free."

Dustin folds his arms across his chest. "That could, arguably, be a really bad idea."

Freeing non-native creatures was never a good idea. There was a whole workshop on invasive species that included how animals in captivity might suffer if released without the proper skills to survive. Media was also full of good intentions leading to the release of monsters.

"Which is why I came to the king of bad ideas," Steve says far too casually.

"Are you insulting me?" Dustin scoffs. "You're asking for my help and then insulting me. Seriously?"

"Do I need to bring up the coyote with mange you trapped in your cellar because you thought it was a chupacabra?"

Dustin frowns. "Considering you just brought it up- no."

"Voice in my head," Steve states to get them back on track. "Restricted area. Plan. Go.

Dustin sighs. "Fine. Do you think I can fit through the vents?"

Steve shakes his head. "They had to put grates in those because the octopus kept using them for midnight snack runs."

"Really?" Dustin feels like he should have heard about that, but he's only been an intern for a little over a month now.

"Yeah," Steve says dismissively, "It was a thing. Robin is a bit obsessed with her now."

"Like you're obsessed with the lampreys?"

Steve is clearly insulted by the accusation. He takes a moment to gape. "I am not obsessed with the lampreys. I am the opposite of obsessed."

"Sure." The one syllable is pure sarcasm. "Okay, so the other plan is we steal the badge of someone who has access."

"What do you mean we?"

"You aren't doing this alone."

"It's too dangerous." Steve's hands are back on his hips, but Dustin doesn't back down.

"If you get eaten, I get eaten," he states firmly. They have a silent standoff that Dustin eventually wins.

"Okay," Steve relents. He's learned in the few years he has known Dustin to not fight his loyalty. It was either agree now or be surprised when Dustin tailed him later. "Any idea who's badge we are going to steal?"

Dustin presses his lips together as he thinks. "There has to be people who do maintenance -"

"Maybe like the head aquarist?"

They both swing around to see Robin standing with a lanyard hanging from her finger. At the end is the badge of someone Steve doesn't recognize. He wonders how long she has been there and how much she heard.

"He left it in the food prep room," she explains as she holds it out to Steve.

He takes it, not bothering to ask questions even if there are quite a few that came to mind. The picture is of an older man with a receding hairline and white goatee. The text underneath reads: Wayne Munson.

New memories are sent to him. The sound of a kind drawl. Sweet and salty and tangy flavors masking the taste of decayed fish. Different textures. Something to look forward to.

Hope.

Steve looks at Robin. He smiles. She smiles back.

"Commence operation we're all getting fired."

[honey-dont]

snowy dustin for @actual-dunwich-horror!!

[morganbritton132]

Part 2 of this post:

Steve probably could’ve handled it.

He wouldn’t have liked it and he’d bitch the whole time about the handcuffs, but annoyance did a lot to starve off panic. He could’ve been fine.

Let Eddie get his joke in and then disappear into the background. It’s not like he didn’t deserve to be the butt of a joke or two.

He could’ve done that but then Eddie touched his face.

He put his hand on his cheek and pressed his thumb against his chin, and Steve’s vision fizzled out into punch, punch, punch, questions and no answers, pliers and fingernails, needles and Robin. Fear.

All he could hear was his own ringing ears echoing around his skull like an empty house. It takes his a second to realize that someone is talking and another second to realize that it’s him. Words pressed together, breathing short, “I work at Scoops Ahoy, I work at Scoops Ahoy, I work-“

Awareness floods back like a tidal wave - all at once - and everybody is yelling. Telling Eddie to hurry up. Steve only connects the urgency to the handcuffs once they’re off and a hand is clasped over his wrist when the metal cut in.

He must’ve struggled. He struggled last time too.

Steve looks around, wide eyes on a lot of faces but not - “Where’s…?”

“At home,” Dustin said readily. “Robin is at home. And she is safe, and - and alive.”

Steve nods and then the numbness breaks, embarrassment floods him. This isn’t the first time Dustin has caught him in the middle of a panic attack but it’s the first time anyone else has and, yeah.

“I have to go,” He says standing up abruptly, shaking off Eddie’s hand. The cuts not so bad but the skin will probably bruise. “You can get a ride with-“

“I got him,” Eddie finally speaks. “Harrington, I’m-“

But Steve is gone and Dustin follows. Neither comes back.

When Eddie asks what the hell just happened, Mike gives him a bitch look and says, “Dude, he was in the mall fire.”

That answers nothing.

[lighthouseas]

okay no one asked but here is what the party is doing in bath & body works (i am u.s. american and have no idea if they have this overseas, so uh. if they don't and u are confused: it is basically a store where you can buy scented candles and lotions and stuff and it gives you a headache when you walk in because of all the smells. basically all u need to know)

ok. anyway.

el: goes in. smells every candle in the store. tries every "try me!!" lotion and body spray. leaves with a bottle of hand sanitizer or something. almost accidentally signs up for spam emails at the register before max stops her

max: goes in to buy the same lotion/body butter/shower gel/whatever else scent every time. she sticks to what she knows. HOWEVER she is not immune to smelling all of the new scents on the shelves and gagging when they are all unequivocally terrible compared to hers (the best one, obviously) (she's so me)

lucas: smells all of the candles with el. jokingly shoves all of the shitty scents in mike's face to make him gag (mike does the same back ofc). ends up buying like 5 candles because they're on sale or something

mike: hates the store because it gives him a headache. goes in and buys something anyway because it's there. probably shower gel or something. maybe body spray if he thinks will will like it (he totally does not watch will to see what scents he likes and then buys them immediately after. why would he do that. he has Never done that.)

will: buys three different lotions because they're on sale and he can't pick which one he likes the most. engages in candle sniffing with el and lucas. also engages in spraying body spray onto the little testing strips with max and gagging because most of them smell terrible

dustin: yk those scent things that you plug into the wall and they stink up your house. yeah. he buys like 10 of those and everyone is terrified of going in his house because it's like walking into a bottle of perfume. he claims the scents calm him even though everyone else is about to pass out from the fumes

[thegrimreepurr]

guys im normal listen im ssripusly eo normal i swear you gotta bieve me im soekahng truth trust me im such a believeabke person i would never eb anytjing other tajn normal cmon im being so fr rn im normal i sw

[sp0o0kylights]

Steve Harrington, who has a very “in name only” relationship with his parents, the people who claim they love him lots but have simply given him cash for his last six birthdays without bothering to send a card. 

Steven Harrington, who lost his connection to the only adults in his life who actually parented him when he had his final fight with Tommy and Carol-- not that they ever really did that much. Having an adult put a bandaid on his knee and complimenting him for being tough was plenty enough. 

Steve Harrington, who drove Dustin and co. to the Byers house that one Christmas and was told by Hopper not to come in; that Joyce was still mad at him about the ‘demodog in the fridge’ and figured his exclusion was fair--it wasn’t like Hopper actually liked him. Joyce certainly had no reason to. It wasn’t like he was doing anything for Christmas anyways. 

Steve Harrington, who is fairly certain Robin’s parents have clocked her as queer but who still treats him in that careful way many parents do when he’s hanging around their daughter. There’s a barrier there, in the way of firm handshakes and “get her back safe”’s that keep things formal. (It’s never bothered him before, and he swears it doesn’t bother him now.) 

Steve Harrington, whose relationships with adults are defined by words like “networking”, “proper connections”, “favors”, and “finances”, who has at best been treated like a miniature version of his father and at worst as a spoilt moron, who encounters Wayne Munson and has no idea what to do with the man. 

Wayne Munson, who asks him actual questions about his life. Who asks him to watch the game with him. Who calls him “boy” and “son” in ways that sound affectionate and not frustrated. Wayne, who shoos him away from the dishes and compliments his cooking, who has invited Steve over when Eddie isn’t even home.

Steve Harrington, who keeps apologizing to Eddie because “I’m not trying to steal your Uncle man, I promise.” and doesn’t believe Eddie when the latter just laughs at him.

(“You can’t steal Wayne, Steve.” Eddie says with a snicker, when he finally figures out what Steve is apologizing for.  The guy apologizes a lot for things that make no sense, it’s a bad habit Eddie’s working on him with. “Though I do believe he has been trying to steal you.” 

“Oh.” This does not relieve Steve. In fact, this seems to make him more nervous looking, which Eddie does not want. 

“I uh. I don’t want to come between you guys so I guess we can just hang at my house…?” The voice he trails off with is downright painful for Eddie to hear, and he’s already slashing his hand in the air in a wild ‘No’ before Steve can even finish speaking.

“Dude you’re fine. I’m glad you guys are getting along! Wayne needs someone to talk sportsball with and clearly so do you because you keep trying to talk about it to anyone who will listen.”

“I guess if you’re alright with it…”) 

Steve Harrington, who allows himself to be adopted by the Munsons much in the way a feral cat lets itself become domesticated, and who starts looking at Wayne like the man hung the moon. 

Wayne Munson, who is referred to by Steve as “Dad” exactly once, and feels so fucking happy about it he misses the panic attack Eddie has to talk Steve through. 

He also misses that that is the moment when Steve accidentally confesses his feelings to Eddie in the Munson’s (new) cramped bathroom, on grounds that “I can’t date you and also call Wayne dad like that, that’s weird! Isn’t that weird!? It feels weird!” 

(“Sweetheart,” Eddie says, trying not to smile and failing entirely. “I get what you’re saying, but I think in your panic you missed something kinda key, there.”) 

Steve Harrington, who gets himself an entire family in the end (and gets to both call Wayne “dad” and Eddie as his boyfriend, without issue, because “we’re not related babe, you can call your inlaw whatever you want.” 

“Now who's skipping steps? When did we get married?”

“The very second it’s legal, that’s when.”) 

--and has never been happier in his life.