#child eddie munson

[junk-and-disorderly]

He Ain’t Heavy - 1984 - 14

1984 - 14

Rain pattered against the window, softened only by the crooning of Marty Robbins and his gunslinger ballads. Had he known he was gonna have a kid in less than twenty four hours, he would have picked better music. Not that it would have made a lick of difference--he had no idea what the youth of today listened to. Besides, who didn’t like ‘Big Iron’?

Wayne drummed his fingers along the steering wheel, focusing on the maw of darkness stretching before them, instead of the heavy gaze coming from the backseat.

“You like Marty Robbins, boy?” He looked in the rear view mirror just in time to see the kid’s gaze drop.

“Marty Robbins is fine, sir.”

Wayne huffed in amusement---sir. Nobody had called him that since his military days. “Uncle Wayne or Wayne will do just fine.”

“Yes sir--I-I mean Wayne. Uncle.”

He turned the mirror to get a better look at the kid. An angry purple welt nearly engulfed his left eye, leaving a sliver of brown to peek out from the swollen skin. He had such large eyes, dark and deep, and so full of fear---just like his mama’s.

A lump formed in his throat. Shoulda been there sooner.

“You still go by Edward?” The question came out gruff, all rough edges. Maybe with time, he could wear those corners down.

Tension bled into the silence as he watched the kid gnaw on his lower lip. The skin was chapped and red--a repeated habit. Then his hands scrubbed through the stubbly buzz cut, his eyes darting back to Wayne, then back to his chewed nails and ragged cuticles.

He tried again, softer this time. “What do you want to be called?”

As expected, the kid responded with a full body flinch before blurting out, “Eddie.” A moment later, softer and quieter, “Can I go by Eddie?”

Right. Edward was his daddy. “Sure, Eddie.”

Wayne sighed. How is it that of all the relatives, extended families, and aunts once and twice removed, Eddie ended up here? Sure, Maybe Wayne wasn’t the worst option-- he had a steady job, lived a quiet albeit isolated life, and paid his taxes-- but that only confirmed that the standard set for guardianship was abysmally low.

Of course, he had to consider who had set the standard in the first place. He didn’t need to ask his nephew who’d given him the black eye and put the fear of God in him.

At least Wayne had enough sense to snap the branches of their family tree. There would be no more fuckups from the Munson family, no-siree. Just himself, a barren limb all on its own.

Well. Alone with the newly grafted sapling currently withering in the backseat. He turned his focus back to the road, watching daylight slowly creep over the horizon through the gloom.

They still had a long drive ahead of them.

+++++++

It was late morning by the time they arrived at the trailer park. The rain had stopped, leaving the air heavy with the promise of a muggy afternoon.

He pulled up to the trailer, throwing the truck in park. He couldn’t imagine what was running through his nephew’s mind. Eddie had bounced from a house (if you could call it that--his brother’s house was borderline condemned), to a foster home (which Wayne had thankfully not visited) to a trailer. It was a nice tin can, nicer than wherever Eddie had laid his head, but still a tin can nonetheless. It would have to do, at least until the kid was eighteen.

In the meantime though, he had no clue what to do, outside meeting basic needs.

That was the main problem; he had no idea what Eddie was actually thinking. Sure, he could read the kid--it didn’t take a genius to see the boy was terrified out of his mind--but that didn’t tell him what Eddie wanted, what he needed, or who he was. The kid had spoken all of four sentences on the way down, only speaking when spoken to.

The thought made his gut clench.

It wasn’t that he minded the quiet--Wayne wasn’t much of a talker himself. Too many people were doing the talking already, so he was more than happy to do the listening. What bothered him more was the fact that the teenager in the backseat was worse than a stranger--he was a ghost. There was no trace of the little boy who doodled in the margins of his mother’s postcards.

Those wide eyes had remained shuttered the drive over and remained closed to observation.

Wayne cleared his throat, watching as Eddie tightened the grip on his seatbelt. “It ain’t much, but it’s home.” He gestured out the window. “Folks typically keep to themselves here, but they’re nice enough. Might even be a few people your age around.” Hopefully something different would be good--for both of them.

They loitered in the cab a moment, waiting each other out. A beat passed before Wayne broke the stalemate. If he wanted the car unloaded sometime in this century, he’d have to make the first move. “C’mon, let me show you to your room.”

There was a tell-tale click of the seatbelt, followed by an even longer pause. “...My room?

He shrugged his shoulders. “Teenagers need their privacy.”

Wayne was already unpacking the other side of the truck, pulling a battered cardboard box from the seat. The rain may have stopped, but wasn’t about to be lulled into a false sense of security. Better to get things squared away and start on the next task at hand: what the hell was he supposed to do with a teenager?

Eddie oozed out of the backseat, hands clenched around the neck of an acoustic guitar like a lifeline. From the moment Wayne came to pick him up, the guitar had been tucked protectively against him by a makeshift strap. Even now, it bobbed unsteadily against his back when he stooped to grab a box.

They walked towards the trailer, Eddie trailing half a step behind. Balancing the box on his hip, Wayne undid the various locks and nudged the door open. They were immediately dumped into the living room, and greeted by the oppressive silence of a house half-lived in.

Wayne set the box down on the threadbare couch with a grunt, flicking on a nearby light. An orange glow illuminated the space, softening the edges of the room. It wasn’t much to look at, but it was tidy, old habits instilled in him from his military days. Once he’d gotten the news of his brother’s incarceration (from a message left on his answering machine, no less), it’d been a mad dash to find his nephew. Ideally he would have had more time to spruce up the place, but he was more focused on meeting with social workers than playing house.

“Your room is down the hall.” It was impossible to miss, seeing as it was the only room in the entire trailer, minus the bathroom.

As expected, Eddie wordlessly shuffled down the hall, guitar bouncing with each step. Wayne’s heart leapt to his throat every time the pegs scraped against the wall, threatening more permanent damage to both his home and the instrument.

Jesus, he was not prepared for a kid. When did people stop child proofing the house? He shook his head, leaving the boy to his lonesome to unpack his thoughts. Wayne could unpack the physical shit. There were still a few boxes and a garbage sack to unload--nothing his old bones couldn’t handle.

The caseworkers had warned him--‘Eddie will be a troubled young man, he might be a handful. Are you sure you want to take him on?’.

He couldn’t help but snort. Had he been ready to go to Vietnam? Hell no---but he did that shit anyways. Life wasn’t in the habit of handing out choices; you did what could, and took the lumps that came with it. Besides, Eddie’s welfare was his concern, and the kid had been dealt a shit enough hand.

Wayne was strong enough to carry him--he ain’t heavy.

It took no more than thirty minutes to carry in the wreckage of the kid’s life. He shuffled along the well worn path from the living room to the front door, mumbling a familiar song from his youth. There hadn’t been a peep from his nephew, which while not surprising, signaled he could do with a check-in.

The last box landed with a thud against the floor. “You still alive in there, Eddie?”

No response.

Wayne stretched, popping his back, before walking down the hall. Sure enough, the door to the bedroom was closed. He rapped his knuckles against it and tried again. “Eddie?”

The door swung open, bringing him face to face with the wild-eyed teen. Instinctually, he took a step back; never corner a frightened animal.

“Truck’s unloaded—your stuff is in the living room if you want help.”

Eddie took the opening to wriggle out of his room, snapping the door shut behind him. The guitar was still strapped to his back, and let out a painful discordant twang as it knocked against the door that caused them both to wince.

“You might want to find a spot for your girl in your room. Not sure how many more knocks she can handle.” He motioned to said instrument.

Eddie swallowed, nodding his head, but only tightened his grip on the handle more. She’d certainly seen better days: Multiple strings had been broken, curled around the chipped fretboards. Damaged, but not broken. With time, maybe they could fix her.

They stood there a moment, not making eye contact with one another. They may as well be strangers.

Finally, he let out a sigh, trying to breathe life into the awkward stalemate between them. “Listen, kid. You don’t know me and I don’t know you. But I ain’t your daddy.”

A hand flew up to the guitar strap, knuckles white. That got Eddie’s attention.

“People have told you a lot of bullshit, broken a lot of promises, and caused a lot of hurt. I ain’t dumb enough to think I won’t do the same somewhere down the line.”

The boy’s gaze was jittery, looking everywhere but his face.

“...But I’m going to do right by you, the best I know how.” Despite the wide berth he’d given the boy, he still flinched when Wayne motioned closer to the knob.

“There’s a lock on the door—“ he didn’t miss the way Eddie’s eyes jumped to his face with terror. A pit formed in his stomach, but he pushed through it. “—-you can lock the door from the inside. If you need to lock it to feel safe, you do that. Just don’t lock me out all the time, okay boy?”

Words had never been his strong suit, better at using his hands to do the talking for him, but he hoped it was enough.

He turned back towards the living room, bypassing the boxes and going straight to the kitchen. Boy could probably do with some food.

To his surprise, Eddie was in the living room, hovering over the boxes. Their eyes met over the cutaway in the kitchen, and for the first time, Eddie held his gaze. There was something different to him, eyes wide and searching, studying him.

He must have been satisfied by what he found, because his face split into a small tentative smile. “Want to help me unpack? It’s your only chance to be super nosy.”

God, he was going to absolutely ruin himself for this kid, wasn’t he?

Wayne returned the smile, “Okay, Eddie. Let’s do that.”

[lazylittledragon]

he's nothing if not determined

[morganbritton132]

Eddie, posting to his socials: Pro-tip! If you had a questionable childhood and you’re thinking of throwing out some lore about your past, maybe think twice before describing it as a funny story.

Eddie: Maybe say to yourself, ‘Hmm, would I think this was funny if one of my thirteen year old students told me this? Would this make me immensely sad hearing it from a child?’ before deciding to violently vibe check your husband with the saddest fucking thing I’ve heard in a while.

Steve, off-screen:

Steve: First of all, I agreed with you. Saying it out loud, it’s not a funny story. My bad.

Steve: Second, do not describe my childhood as ‘lore.’ I’m not an elf in your nerd shit.

[solarmorrigan]

Saw someone mention how Steve tends to get defensive when he's anxious and it stuck with me, so here's my take on the "Steve breaks a dish and has a panic attack about it" trope

cw: descriptions of nonstandard panic attack, implied/referenced child abuse

-

The distinct sound of shattering porcelain is followed by a vehemently hissed, “shit,” and then silence.

“Steve?” Eddie calls from the couch into the kitchen. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Steve calls back, but his voice sounds tight in the way it does when something definitely isn’t okay.

Eddie pushes himself up and moves to the doorway, looking in to see what the trouble is. The kitchen of the house he and Wayne had been “gifted” by the government isn’t exactly huge, and he has a straight line of sight to where Steve is standing by the sink, eyes squeezed shut as he pinches the bridge of his nose, and to the red and white shards of porcelain on the floor by his feet.

“Hey,” Eddie says, but Steve doesn’t look up; if anything, his posture only gets tenser. “You’re not cut or anything, are you?”

“No,” Steve says, and his tone is still a little off, but he doesn’t sound like he’s lying.

“What was that, anyway?” Eddie asks.

Finally, Steve takes a deep breath in and opens his eyes, looking down at the mess on the laminate. “Mug.”

As soon as he says it, Eddie recognizes the colors for what the design must have been. “Shit, the Campbell’s one?”

Steve doesn’t say a word, just gives one sharp nod.

Eddie sucks a hiss of breath in through his teeth. “Shit,” he says again. “That was Wayne’s favorite.”

“I know,” Steve says tersely. “I’m sorry.”

His tone is definitely weird. “I mean, I’m sure it was an accident, Steve–” Eddie starts.

“I’m sorry,” Steve says again, almost snapping this time. “I’ll clean it up.”

“O-kay,” Eddie says slowly, watching as Steve jerks into motion and moves over to the corner where they stash the broom and dust pan.

“I’ll apologize to Wayne when he gets home,” Steve says as he starts sweeping up, even though Eddie hasn’t said a word.

“He gets home at, like, six in the morning.”

“I’ll make sure I’m up,” Steve says shortly.

“Steve, you can just tell him what happened later, he’s not going to stand around demanding an explanation. I mean, seriously, you think Wayne is gonna be pissed if you’re not there, immediately scraping at his feet when he comes through the door?” Eddie scoffs, but Steve remains silent. Eddie watches as he finishes sweeping in short, sharp motions, brows pulling together as Steve apparently fails to pick up on the joke. “…he won’t be, y’know.”

Steve shrugs. His expression has gone eerily blank, and he takes the dustpan over to the garbage can to dump it.

“Hey, don’t–” Eddie reaches out, and Steve jerks to a stop just in time. “You don’t have to toss it, man, we might be able to glue it back together.”

Steve sends Eddie a sharp look. “I’m not gonna be able to hide that it was broken, Eddie,” he says slowly, as though this should be painfully obvious.

“I’m not suggesting we hide it, I’m just saying we might still be able to use it,” Eddie answers in the same slow manner. “It’s not junk until you’re sure you can’t fix it.”

“Right,” Steve snaps, dropping the dustpan on the counter so sharply that the shards of porcelain clink against each other. “Can’t even clean up right.”

Eddie frowns, stirrings of defensiveness rising up in his gut at Steve’s continued sour mood. “I didn’t say that. I just said we might be able to fix it.”

“Fine. We’ll try to fix it,” Steve bites out, turning away from Eddie so he can put the broom back in the corner.

Eddie shakes his head, unwilling to engage with whatever snit Steve’s got himself worked into. “What happened, anyway?” he asks instead.

Apparently, this is the wrong tactic.

“What happened is, I’m too stupid to even do the dishes right,” Steve declares as he whirls back around. “Is that what you want to hear?”

“What?” Eddie is baffled, suddenly caught in the middle of an argument he hadn’t even realized was happening. “No! Why would I want to hear that?”

Steve throws his arms up, a demonstration of giving in. “Well I already said I’m sorry, and I am, and I don’t know what else you want from me!”

The heat of Eddie’s own temper is beginning to flare, but he does his best to shake it away because he still doesn’t know what the hell is going on and he doesn’t think getting angry will help. “I don’t want anything else from you! Why are you acting like I’m yelling at you? I’m not, I’m not even upset about the stupid mug, so what the hell is your deal?”

He takes a couple of steps into the kitchen, reaching out for Steve, hoping just to touch some part of him. Physical contact has always been grounding, has always been a comfort for them both; it almost seems like they can communicate better if they can just be in contact somehow. Instead of reaching back, though, Steve tenses up; it’s not exactly a flinch, but it’s as if he’s bracing himself, as if he’s waiting for Eddie to–

Eddie takes in the painfully blank expression on Steve’s pale face, the way his chest is rising and falling in quick, shallow breaths that he can’t quite seem to control, the way he’s angled himself just slightly away from Eddie, and suddenly Eddie feels cold.

It’s as if he’s waiting for Eddie to hit him.

Eddie wonders how the hell he hadn’t realized he was walking through a minefield until he was already standing in the middle of it.

(It still takes him by surprise, sometimes, that Steve’s anxiety, his panic, tends to look more like anger. That he tends to lash out like a wounded animal when he feels backed into a corner, hurt too many times in moments of vulnerability to do otherwise.)

(It takes him by surprise, but he’s learning.)

“Steve,” Eddie says softly, dropping his hand slowly back to his side, “I’m not angry.”

Steve stares at him, almost confused, like Eddie’s not doing it right, like this isn’t what’s supposed to come next. Eddie sort of wants to break something (he thinks, briefly, that he’d like to start with the fingers on Mr. Harrington’s right hand, and then move on to his left).

“It’s just a mug, Steve, it’s okay. No one’s upset about it,” Eddie says. “I’m preemptively speaking for Wayne, because I know he’s not gonna be mad at you. Seriously, getting upset over a broken cup? Does that sound like something Wayne would do?”

Slowly, once he seems to realize that Eddie is waiting for an answer, Steve shakes his head.

“Does that sound like something I would do?” Eddie asks.

Steve shakes his head again, though he’s still watching Eddie with something approaching trepidation.

“I promise it’s fine. I’m not angry,” Eddie repeats, and chances a couple of steps closer to Steve.

Steve doesn’t react this time, no tensing, no flinching, no verbally lashing out, and so Eddie lifts a hand again, reaching slowly for Steve’s. Steve lets him.

When he gets his fingers wrapped around Steve’s own, Eddie can feel how cold they’ve gone, can feel the fine tremble of adrenaline working through them, and can’t quite choke down the noise of sympathy in his throat. He tugs on Steve’s hand.

“C’mere,” Eddie says, invites him by lifting his other arm, but leaves it up to Steve.

It only takes a moment for Steve to step in close, and when Eddie lets go of his hand to wrap his arms around Steve’s shoulders, Steve reciprocates by cinching his own arms tight around Eddie’s waist. He takes one sharp breath, and then another, and Eddie can hear the way they shake going in and out.

“There you go,” Eddie says quietly, rubbing Steve’s back.

“I just dropped it,” Steve says, his voice a little hoarse. “It was an accident.”

“I know it was,” Eddie assures him. “It’s okay.”

“It was an accident,” Steve says again, and Eddie wonders how often someone has believed him – how often he’d ever even been given a chance to explain.

“It was an accident,” Eddie agrees. “You’re okay, Steve.”

Steve lets out a little noise, like maybe he’s trying to laugh, but then he pulls in another shuddery breath and rests his chin on Eddie’s shoulder. “Okay.”

In a little bit, Eddie might lead Steve to sit down on the couch, or maybe just take them both up to bed, because fuck doing the dishes after this anyway; he’ll make sure to leave a note for Wayne about the mug (ask him not to bring it up until Steve does, to not even jokingly make a thing about it), but for now, he concentrates on holding Steve close.

He’ll stand with him as long as it takes for the shaking to stop, for his breathing to even out, for him to relax even just a little against Eddie, and he'll promise, as many times as Steve needs to hear it, that it’s okay. Things will be okay.

[Prompt: Embracing your partner]

[absentlurker]

the relief wayne feels when he finds out eddie and that steve boy are dating. not because eddie loves that boy so fuckin’ much and it was a struggle watching him live with the belief it was unrequited.

no.

it was a relief because eddie is 22 years old and wayne’s time to embarrass his boy to his boyfriend has finally come.

the absolute horror in eddie’s eyes when he whipped his head around when he heard the words, “so steve…have i ever told you about the time eddie had an complete meltdown after he brought a opossum in the house…”

[hawkinsbnbg]

Today, Mike had woken up on the wrong side of his bed so he was especially vicious as he ranted about anything he found irritating about Steve.

He hadn't even reached the midpoint when Dustin decided to rip him a new one. Which, yeah, was fair because he didn't usually do Steve that dirty. But his bad mood had taken over and he found himself arguing with Dustin.

"It's not like you don't gripe about him every day," Mike retorted heatedly. "In fact, you are the one making fun of him the most out of everybody here," he gestured widely at the others (Lucas cringed, Will looked guilty, Max and Erica high-fived each other, El nodded calmly, Eddie just gave him a little wave).

"That's because I'm his brother," Dustin said matter-of-factly while adopting Steve's signature mom pose. "But who are you? You're just his ex's brother. Without Nancy, you're just a random kid to him."

(Eddie, Max, and Erica looked at each other with the same smirk. "Oh, that burns."

Lucas just sighed helplessly as Will and El watched on in amusement.)

Mike's nostril flared indignantly. He would never ever admit this, but while he thought Steve was lame and an idiot sometimes, he respected Steve plenty. Not enough to admire, but enough to fight Dustin for him.

"So what? I know him longer than you," Mike fired back. "I have more M&M's and 3 Musketeers from him than you do, I played baseball with him every weekend, and I also watched Star Wars with him."

"You do understand what ex means, right?" Dustin narrowed his eyes at him. "Nancy's his ex-girlfriend, ergo you're his ex-something, ergo you need to stop living in the past. You know why? Because I," Dustin pointed at himself smugly, "am his favorite now. I'm the present and the future. His shotgun, his house, his pool, his snack cupboard will forever be mine, thank you very much."

And just like that, all hell broke loose.

Because not even Will was willing to accept that bullshit. Steve never had a favorite, okay? As their babysitter, he wasn't allowed to.

"What the fuck are you fighting for?" Mike glared at Erica who was (impressively) making Dustin wail like Mew on the floor.

"Steve still owes me a lifetime of free ice cream, duh," she looked at him like he was an idiot. "Stop talking shit and come help me."

A wise man once said: "Enemy's enemies are friends."

So it only took Mike a second to give her a hand.

———

"Why didn't you stop them?" Steve asked in exasperation, thinking about the fistfight that would've taken place in the Wheelers' basement had he not interfered on time.

"'Cause the more they eliminate among themselves," Eddie leaned in closer and whispered conspiratorially, "the less I gotta fight to keep you."

"But I'm their babysitter," Steve pushed him away with a finger on the forehead. "And you're supposed to make it easier for me, not harder."

"Sweetheart," Eddie grabbed his wrist and nuzzled his nose into it, "Just say the word and I'll make something harder for you right now."

"You're incorrigible," Steve rolled his eyes, but his pretty smile had betrayed his mood.

"Yeah, all because of you, baby," Eddie pressed his lips on the back of Steve's hand. "O prithee, my princess, give me the remedy."

"What if I don't have any?" Steve raised his brow.

"You do, darlin'," Eddie pulled him close and cradled his face. "My tonic is right here," a kiss on his forehead. "My joys," on his eyelids. "My happiness," on his his nose and then his mouth, "my love."

Later, when they cuddled in bed, sweet and tender after loving each other til midnight, he would tell Eddie there was no need to ask for him in the first place.

Because he had been Eddie's boy since the day the battle vest was draped on him.

It seemed Steve did have a favorite, after all.

Except, it was none of his kids.

Truly a tragedy.

[a-little-unsteddie]

cw: child abuse mentioned, child neglect

Steve, who was never allowed to play in the snow as a child because it was ‘too messy’. Steve, who stared longingly outside as he watched other kids play in the snow. Steve, wanting to build a snowman, or an igloo, or have a snowball fight, but was denied each and every time by his parents. “It’s uncouth, Steven.” “It’s dirty, Steven.” “You’ll just whine that you’re cold, Steven.” “No.” “No.” “No.” Until he stopped asking altogether, even as he stared out his bedroom window at the other kids playing. Steve who loves the snow but was never allowed to play. The one time he snuck out, he was brought inside being dragged by his ear and spanked until he cried.

And then some for crying at all.

Steve goes shopping with his mom and sees a snow globe and all but cries for her to get it for him. If he can’t have the snow outside, he wants to have a snow globe to have it inside. She lets him get it, but not without commenting ‘at least it’s not going outside’.

Thus starts a collection, of sorts. Whenever he sees a new snow globe, he makes his mom buy him it and because he never asks to go outside to play in the snow if she buys one, she keeps buying them for him.

He has around 10 or 15 snow globes by the time he’s a teenager and left alone more than he isn’t. He still doesn’t go out to play in the snow, even if he silently yearns to, because now he’s ‘too old’ to play out in the snow. Tommy doesn’t like being cold, so he never goes out, and Carol won’t do something if Tommy’s not there, so Steve doesn’t bother asking her to go outside.

Steve becomes friends with Dustin and the rest of the party, and he still doesn’t let himself play with them, even when Dustin begs him to. He passes on the same excuses to him as his mom told him, and the words feel like ash in his mouth, but he doesn’t just play in the snow like he’s aching to. It’s too cold, he’ll be wet and miserable later, he doesn’t want to get water all over the house.

Mostly, they’re excuses because he’s kind of worried he doesn’t know how to play in the snow. That somehow he’ll be bad at it.

Eventually, when he and Robin become friends and their first winter together happens, he tells her this secret fear. It’s right after the kids go out to play, and it’s just them, and he whispers to her.

“I don’t think I’ll be any good at it.”

Robin is confused, of course, because how can you be ‘bad’ at playing in the snow? He elaborates to her that he’s never played and she’s less confused but more angry at his parents, which he thinks is an over reaction and she insists he’s having an under reaction, whatever that means, and the moment passes. Steve is relieved to have revealed that much to her. He still doesn’t go outside, and Robin gets cold easily, so she doesn’t want to go outside, so they stay inside together.

He still collects snow globes, when he sees them. He buys one in front of the kids and brushes it off as a white elephant gift for a family thing, but displays it in the unused guest bedroom with the rest of the snow globes. It’s on the other side of the house from where every other guest bed is, so usually no one takes it, and so he knows his collection is safe.

Even if he keeps it secret, and plans to keep it secret forever, until the following winter, after the spring break from hell and after the grueling summer and cool fall brings the snow again and Eddie Munson is a menace in his life. He’s by far the most energetic person that he’s ever been friends with, all touches and open affection, it’s almost too easy to fall for him.

Eddie is nosy as hell and of course it’s him that finds the collection of snow globes.

“What’s this?” Eddie’s voice echoes from down the hall and it takes Steve a few seconds to process where his voice is coming from before he’s rushing down the hall and into the unused guest room.

Along the left wall, there’s a shelf that stretches from wall-to-wall filled with snow globes.

Embarrassment shoots through him, and he shrugs. “…snow globes.” he explains badly, wincing when Eddie turns towards him with an unimpressed look. It quickly morphs into concern because for some reason, Steve’s started tearing up and once the tears start they don’t stop.

“Hey, it’s okay, I’m sorry,” Eddie soothes, wrapping his arms around him tightly. “You don’t have to explain if you don’t want to, sweet thing.”

And the thing is, Steve does want to explain. Suddenly overcome with the urge to spill everything, in fact. So he does. He tells Eddie about his mom and dad refusing to let him play in the snow, the one time he got caught and got spanked for it, the snow globes, the fear of being bad at playing in the snow, still desperately wanting to despite it.

Through it all, Eddie holds him and listens. He hums occasionally to acknowledge what Steve is saying, but never interrupts him, for which Steve is glad because he doesn’t know if he’d be able to continue if he was stopped for any reason.

At the end of it, when Steve’s tears have dried, and they’re curled up in a pile of blankets on the couch, Eddie vows to teach him out to play in the snow. How to make a snow angel, a snowman, an igloo, a snowball — everything. He whispers these promises and plans into his ear, their hands intertwined where they lay on Steve’s lap.

And he follows through. With everything.

And the next time the kids beg him to play, he plays his part and says no, because he’s still anxious he’s going to do it wrong, Eddie throws a snowball at his back while he’s busy arguing with Dustin. And silence falls over everyone, waiting for Steve’s next move. Because he’s never given in, and no one’s ever pushed their luck like that.

Steve turns towards Eddie, narrowing his eyes at him.

“Oh, it’s on, Munson.”

The kids cheer and then it’s chaos of snowballs being lobbed at one another.

Later, when everyone is warming up with hot cocoa, and Steve is curled into Eddie’s side with a blanket tossed over their laps, Steve knows he’s never been happier to have met Eddie, who taught him how to play in the snow.

“Thank you,” Steve whispers to Eddie, who hums curiously, lazily looking at him from the corner of his eye. “For teaching me how to play in the snow.”

“Always, Stevie. I’ll always help you.”

And it sounds like a promise.

[steviesbicrisis]

Eddie, at the hospital post Upside Down, is out of it because of meds and keeps blabbering nonsense. Dustin visits him with Steve and Eddie keeps referring to him as his son.

Dustin replies jokingly with "Yeah and this is your husband, Steve" and rolls his eyes.

And if Eddie has some memory of parenting Dustin, he doesn't recall ever being in a relationship with Steve, which makes him come to the conclusion that he must've lost his memory.

Dustin feels immensely guilty as Eddie keeps apologizing to Steve in tears, for forgetting such a "wonderful and beautiful husband".

It goes on for a few days and surprisingly, Steve gets quickly adjusted to being Eddie's husband.

When Eddie is finally better and doesn't need that many painkillers, he still remembers how he acted around Dustin and Steve.

He's too embarrassed to face them again so he asks his uncle to keep them away if they ever come to visit again. And they do.

Steve barges into the hospital room "What the hell is going on?"

Eddie can't blabber anything coherent so Steve presses "Do you want to divorce me? is that it?"

To which, for some unknown reason, Eddie takes offense to "What the fuck, Harrington?"

"Oh, I'm 'Harrington' now? great" he replies, clearly pissed "No, fantastic! You'll have a word with my lawyer."

"Lawyer??"

"I'm taking Dustin and you'll have to pay for child support!"

"You can't take Dustin! He's my kid too!"

Wayne and Dustin observe their whole discussion from the entrance door, too scared to come into the room.

"Does Steve really have a lawyer?" Wayne muses.

Dustin turns to him, scandalized "They aren't married! I'm not their child!"

[mothofmyth]

Steve getting kicked out with nothing but the money he had on him and the clothes on his back...

He goes to the thrift store to get some more clothes and days later Eddie's heart stops when he sees Steve Harrington walking around in a Corroded Coffin T-Shirt...

[rogueddie]

Runner / End Of Beginning

Steve has never seen his father as upset, as furious, as he was when he got home with his final exam results. He'd known- suspected- that his father would flip when his results came in...

His father got angry at small things. Hearing that he'd had a party while they were away, that a girl went missing at that party, had been the closest Steve thought he'd ever get to recieving a beating.

But when he came home with his grades... when his father realized that his son, his supposed prodigy, barely passed...

Steve has never ran as fast as he currently is.

As soon as he'd seen an openning, a clear line to the door, he'd stumbled to his feet and bolted. He'd picked a random direction and ran. He isn't going to stop running until he physically has to stop, knowing that his father is most likely in his car, trying to find him.

He can't stop. He has to keep running.

Eventually, he has to pause. He has to catch his breath.

He leans against a trailer, panting. He prays that no one thinks to look outside and spot him. He prays that no one will-

"Harrington?"

"Fuck." He hisses, squinting up at- "Munson?"

"What the fuck happened to you?" He says, eyes widenning when he finally gets a look at his face. "Second round with Hargrove, or what?"

"Nothing happened, I'm fine."

Munson eyes him for a moment, frowning. "Is someone after you?"

"What do you care?" Steve heaves a deep breath, forcing himself to stand up straight. He brings his knees up in a few knee highs, gearing up for another sprint.

"Ugh. Just- you can come into my trailer," Munson says, sounding as though Steve is forcing him to make the suggestion. "No one would think to look for you there. You can, like... I don't know. Drink some water? You jocks do that, right?"

"Wh- I don't need your help!"

"I'm not waiting for you all day, come on, let's go!" He makes a wide, exaggerated gesture for Steve to follow.

"You just assume I'm gonna follow?"

"Yeah."

He sounds so confident, so sure, that Steve can't think to do anything other thank blink and say, "fuck it, yeah, alright."

Steve is a little surprised at how much space Eddies trailer has. It's cramped, but in a nice way- the way a home gets when people actually live in it. When the people inside are actually happy and chase those joys.

Munson does get him a glass of water, mumbling at him to "sit anywhere", before flopping onto the sofa himself. He turns the TV on, focusing on that.

"Thanks," Steve eventually mutters, awkwardly sitting down.

"Wanna talk about it?"

"Nothing to talk about."

"Sure."

"There isn't," he insists, despite how casual and accepting Munson is acting. "It's my fault, anyway. I deserved it."

"Did you?" Munson turns to him, eyebrow raised. "All us freaks and losers can talk about these days is your change of heart. King of Hawkins High turned lame boytoy."

"Thanks, that makes me feel so much better," Steve sneers.

"Even Jeff thinks you're alright now," he barrels on. "Said he bumped into you, pretty hard, knocked all your shit down, and you apologized. Said his coffee ended up on an essay, or something. Thought he was about to get his ass kicked and you just..."

He waves his hand at him, as though that's explination enough.

Steve doesn't know a Jeff, but he's pretty sure he knows who Munson is talking about, and; "I wasn't looking where I was going. If anything, we were both at fault."

"See?" Munson waves his hand at him again, a little more pointed. "Don't doubt you've got a long way to go, but you're not half-bad. You didn't deserve whatever the fuck happened to your face."

"Whatever."

They fall quiet, both pretending to watch whatever is on the TV. Steve is so zoned out that, when someone clears their throat, he flinchs.

"Sorry to startle you boys," the man chuckles. But the humor quickly teeters out, once he gets a good look at Steve. "You alright, kid?"

"I'm fine."

"He's not," Munson grins wide when Steve glares at him.

"Staying the night?" The man continues, only looking at Eddie now.

"If I can convince him," Munson shrugs.

"I can't stay the night," Steve tries.

"Good," the man nods, as though Steve hadn't said anything. "I'll start making us all some dinner." He finally looks to Steve. "You got any allergies?"

"I can't stay," Steve tries again, insisting.

"No," Munson answers for him. "No problems with meat either."

The man gives Munson a thumbs up, heading through to the kitchen.

"I can't stay," Steve repeats, turning to Munson. "Really. I have to go back or... I have to go back."

"What will happen if you don't go back?"

Steve grimaces. "Nothing. Just- I can't stay here."

"Why not? They gonna hit me too?"

"You know what, Munson? Yeah, probably. And your- your dad?"

"Uncle," Munson snorts, standing, stretching. "No one messes with us though. We're too scary." He wiggles his fingers in Steves face as he passes by. "And call me Eddie."

"Why?"

"It's my name."

Steve awkwardly follows him to the kitchen, hovering a good distance from the two of them, watch how they move around each other with so much comfort and ease. It makes something in Steves chest ache.

"Oh, hey, you like football right?" Eddie asks, pointing to him.

"Uh, yeah, kinda. Not enough to have, like, a team." Steve shrugs.

Wayne turns around slowly, eyebrows raised. "You don't got a team?"

Talking football with Wayne is so easy that, until he's halfway through the dinner he cooked, Steve doesn't notice how fast the time is going. He can't bring himself to be bothered though. It's too nice.

Plus, Eddie is almost bouncing with joy at how well Steve and Wayne are getting along.

Someone starts banging on the door, loud and aggressive, as they make their way to the kitchen.

"Alright!" Wayne calls, rolling his eyes. "Hold your horses."

Steves stomach drops when the door opens and his father is on the other side. He smiles at Steve, sickly sweet and dangerously calm.

"Oh, thank God," he sighs. "Steve, your mother and I have been looking all over for you. When you didn't get home-"

Wayne blocks his way when he tries to step inside. "Who are you?"

"Robert Harrington," Steves dad sniffs, leaning back so he can physically look down at Wayne. "I'm here for my son."

"He ain't here."

Robert Harrington splutters, face tinting red with anger and frustration. He points to Steve, voice raising as he says, "he's right there! And he's coming with me."

Wayne turns, slow and casual. "Huh. That's odd. Don't see him."

"Steve," he snaps his fingers at Steve, like he's a dog. "Come on. We're going home."

Eddie shifts so he's standing slightly in front of him.

It's enough reassurance for him to finally snap back; "I'm not going anywhere with you."

"Steven-"

"Get off my property," Wayne snaps.

His father glares at them, waiting, as though he expects them to back down. When he doesn't, he snarls; "this is kidnapping."

"He's 18," Eddie drawls.

Grumbling, he stomps off.

"Asshole," Wayne mutters. He shuts and locks the door, sliding on the chain too.

Steve has to sit down, with how much his legs are shaking.

"You alright?" Eddie asks, hesitantly sitting beside him.

"Yeah," Steve says. He's surprised to find he means it. "Yeah, I'm good."

"You can stay here, long as you need," Wayne offers. "You'll have to bunk with Eds though. Not a lot of room."

"Why can't he use the sofa when you're-"

"Nope," Wayne cuts him off. There's a glint of mischief in his eyes that has Steve squinting in suspicion. "And you'll need those cuts looking at. Eddie, why don't you go with him. Medkits in the bathroom."

Steve goes ahead when Eddie points the way to the bathroom.

Eddie tries to give Wayne a warning look but he's unbothered and, with Steves back turned, he gives Eddie an encouraging wink.

[humanityinahandbag]

Eddie's April Fools joke would be him bringing Steve a baby that he's watching while he volunteers at the foster center (because kids aren't as judgemental as adults and he can actually do some good without getting nasty looks or whispers about satanism and murder behind his back).

He'd show up at Steve's door and hold out a wide eyed, rosy cheeked, somewhat confused baby like, "Steven, I know it's been a few months since our night of passion, but she's yours. I'm taking you for all you're worth!"

And it's such an obvious joke. Such an obvious prank. He'd just been taking this kid out for a walk and getting some fresh air.

But jokes on Eddie, because Steve wouldn't even think before lighting up, reaching out, and snatching the baby to his chest like oh aren't you so sweet, do you want to come inside? Yes you do!

Eddie tries to explain that it's a joke, but Steve just grabs his hand and squeezes it tight and the words die on his tongue.

"Bah phhhfp," said the baby, giving Eddie a look like, dude, you've got it bad.

Steve didn't drop his hand. His fingers were warm and strong against Eddie's. "Where'd you find her?"

"... foster?" Says Eddie. "I'm uh. I'm watching her?"

"And you brought her here?" Steve's eyes crinkled at the corners. His smile was sunshine.

Eddie opened his mouth. Closed it. Nodded. And then nearly fell backwards when Steve brought the hand to his mouth and pressed a kiss to his knuckles.

"Glooof," said the baby, staring at Eddie. You're an idiot if you don't make a move right now.

Thankfully, he didn't have to. Not when Steve was giving him a tug over the threshold.

"C'mon. Let's get you both inside. I think she needs to be changed. You got a diaper bag hiding somewhere under all that leather?"

It was meant to be a joke. It doesn't land as one. Because somewhere in Steve's head, the paternal switch is cheering, lit up so brightly. Free baby? And the person he liked brought him the baby?

Well. Then there's only one real solution to the problem.

(For Eddie, that solution hits him just as quickly. Especially when the guy he's been in love with since the sixth grade is holding a baby to his chest, shirt speckled in spitup and drool, making coffee the next morning, smiling across the kitchen at Eddie so softly and sweetly. Well. He was done for long ago. Might as well fall all the way.)

Ten years later, Eddie and Steve are sitting on a park bench watching their daughter April try to sacrifice her stuffed bunny on top of the jungle gym.

"You do realize that she was supposed to be a joke, right?" He'd say to Steve, a little teary eyed and so unbelievably happy.

"Jokes on you," Steve would reply easily. "Because I kept you both."

Jokes on him indeed.

[lazylittledragon]

psspsps come get your alt dads

[morganbritton132]

Even more Steve Has Older Siblings AU add-ons:

1. Steve wanted to be a ninja so bad when he was little but Hawkins didn’t have any martial arts classes he could take. Jason offered to ‘teach’ him. This was just an excuse to throw him around a bit but they had to stop when he accidentally dislocated Steve’s elbow two weeks before basketball tryouts.

2. Anytime his dad decided to be a good father, he’d send Steve to his grandparents for the weekend that the other kids were at their house and then do activities with them. Steve didn’t mind this at the time because Grandpa Otis told him cool stories about the war, but when he got older he realized that it was a really fucked up thing to do.

3. Steve thinks that Richie is spearheading fixing their relationship because his own kids live in a different state now, but it’s actually because Will Byers went missing. He called the house six times in between Will going missing and being found, and no one picked up the phone once. It genuinely scared him, especially because he heard their dad bitch about Barb going missing at their house. Steve was mainly screening the calls but for one of them, he was fighting a monster.

4. Carol fucking hates Steve’s siblings so much. She used to cut tiny holes in their bedsheets with fingernail clippers when she’d come over on the weeks that they weren’t there. Later when she worked the summer at the movie theater, she’d spit in their drinks.

5. The first time Steve’s siblings meet Eddie Munson (sans Richie) is after the murder charges are dropped. It’s also in the middle of a forced family dinner. They’re all sitting there awkwardly and then heard the door fling open, and Eddie shout out as he moved through the house, “Harrrrrington, let’s go! I’ve got beer in the cooler and a lunchbox full of - bibles. Hi!” Steve’s out of his chair and dragging Eddie back out the house like, “Sorry, gotta go. To church. Bye mama, love you. Bye.” Eddie is crackling the entire time and Steve comes home the next morning smelling like weed and a good time, and is promptly handed a cup to go piss in. Jason takes the drug test for him. Fails it.

[livwritesstuff]

another episode of robbie being exactly like eddie and it being steve’s problem

Steve is in the car one day with his three-year-old daughter Robbie when she pipes up from the backseat, “Papa, we gotta go to the store.’

“We do?” he asks, and he glances in the rearview to see that she’s looking idly out the window.

He allows himself a moment to ponder if they might actually need to stop for something that he’s forgotten about – it wouldn’t be the first time his kids’ memories had out-performed his own. He’s pretty positive they don’t need to stop for anything though.

“Yup,” Robbie replies.

“Why do we need to go to the store?”

She goes quiet long enough for Steve to wonder if maybe she got distracted looking at something out the car window and forgot she’d been asked a question, but then she says, “I wanna buy something.”

Steve pauses because – for one – her little toddler voice turns something into som-ping, which is so stinking cute, but also because it’s yet another reason this kid is exactly like Eddie.

To a damn T.

He sighs.

“What do you want to buy?”

“Ummm…” Another long pause, “I wanna buy something for…for…I wanna buy something but I don’t remember anymore.”

“Hm,” Steve hums, “Wonder where you got that one from.”

Eddie.

She got it from Eddie and all the times he comes back from Walmart with a receipt longer than their daughter is tall saying, “Shit, totally forgot what I was there for.”

“I just wanna buy something,” Robbie continues.

Steve lets out another sigh, pretending as he does that he doesn't adore the way that Robbie is turning out to be just like Eddie (because he loves Eddie, even if his relationship with money is a little questionable).

“Okay, you and Daddy are not allowed to go shopping together,” Steve tells her, “Ever.”

[gayphob1a]

Hear me out. what if Mrs. Henderson decided to move out of Hawkins so Steve convinces her to let Dustin stay at his house and instead of telling Dustin they’re in a relationship, Eddie just comes downstairs for breakfast in his boxers and Steve’s hoodie one day.

Dustin: Wait wtf is Eddie doing here?

Eddie with a big ass hickey: Breakfast.

Dustin: where the fuck are your pants?

Steve, trying not to laugh:

Dustin:

Eddie:

Dustin: OH MY GOD WHILE I WAS IN THE HOUSE?

[rambamthxman]

Eddie.

You're thinking out loud, Eddie.

Eddie.

Eddie please💀

-Robin