#comfort from steve harrington

[dreamsteddie]

Steve and Eddie who kind of flop in life and end up poor, living in a trailer in a different small town living quiet lives of no import.

The kids, Robin, Nancy, and Johnathan all seem to take the small handful of opportunities offered to them by the government in the aftermath of the Upsidedown to take off and make something of their lives. They're off writing headlines, making news, and living their lives to the best of their abilities, but Steve and Eddie find themselves stuck.

Steve stayed in Hawkins until the kids graduated and left for college. By then Nancy, Johnathan, and Robin are all in their second or third years of college. John and Nancy have their own apartment in New York together and don't reach out all that often, only seeing the rest of the Hawkins crew on Holidays and some vacations. Robin is flourishing at an all-women's college in Maine and has a partner and a cat and plans for graduate school brewing. She's always saying Steve can come out and join her whenever he's ready, but when the time comes it feels like he would just be trying to insert himself in the middle of a life he doesn't know how to fit into, so he turns to Eddie instead.

Eddie is permanently disabled in a number of ways following the events of season four. He struggles with chronic pain, has breathing issues due to the loss of part of his right lung, and lost enough muscle mass in his left leg that walking will never be easy or done without the use of a walker or arm bar crutches. The doctors said he recovered as well as he could have. The kids said he would get better with time. Wayne said it didn't matter if he never got better, he could do anything he set his mind to.

Steve is the only person who tells him the truth.

Steve tells him that it sucks. Tells him that it will probably always hurt. Doesn't give him false hope when he's trying to grieve the loss of the life he wanted to live. The goals he wanted to reach. When he falls deeper and deeper into himself, stuck in the muck of depression, Steve is the only person he lets in. The kids try their best but their lives are moving fast, and taking care of someone like Eddie is exhausting, no matter what they try to say. Eventually, everyone but Dustin gives up on reaching out, the younger boy showing up every Sunday to try and get Eddie out of the house. He always leaves disappointed.

When Steve asks him if he wants to use what's left of their partly government payouts and Steve's equally meager Family Video savings to buy a truly shitty trailer in a town an hour and a half south of Hawkins in the fall of 1990, it feels like the first boon he's been given in almost five years. He'll never be who he could have been if he had ignored Chrissy that day in 86', but he's always thought maybe he could be more than a ghost between Wayne's walls if he could just get out of this god-forsaken town full of people who know too much and too little of what's happened to him.

They get the trailer, pack what little they have, let Wayne hug them close, and leave.

Steve has already transferred to their new town's Family Video, moving up to claim the dubious honor of being the opening manager. Mostly he just unlocks the door, signs into the computer, and makes sure nothing catches fire. Eddie hoped that moving would miraculously make him fit to enter back into the world, but he spends most of his days with a blanket on the front porch, watching people pass by. He does, though, finally accept that he needs to apply for disability to help Steve keep the lights on and the water hot. That last little bit of hope that he could be what he used to be dies, but he's learning to be content with what he does have. He starts taking a walk, just ten minutes around the loop of the trailer park saying hi and trading polite nods with his fellow residents. He's not ok, but he's starting to build a new community of people not too different from himself.

The new trailer only has one bedroom. Eddie sleeps on a fold-out mattress in the living room. It had been a major argument when they first moved in with Steve insisting that Eddie needed the bed. Eddie argued that it wasn't fair for him to take the room when Steve was the one working 40 hours a week to keep them afloat. In the end, Eddie was the more stubborn of the two. It helps that Eddie has absolutely no qualms about crawling into bed with Steve on the nights when the couch bed really won't cut it for his aching body. Steve never questions it, just shuffles over a little and lets the other man in.

Steve doesn't question a lot of stuff.

He doesn't question when all their effects are shared between them with no effort to distinguish between yours and mine, Eddie's and Steve's. He doesn't question it four months in when Eddie starts to get his feet under him and decides to take up cooking, always trying his best to have everything done just as Steve walks through the door. He doesn't question when a good chunk of Eddie's first disability check goes to buying Steve a sturdy, if not very fashionable, new watch for his birthday since his old one went bust almost a year ago.

He doesn't question it when Eddie holds his hand for the first time under the stars hanging above their front porch.

He doesn't question it when Eddie introduces him to one of his new neighbor friends with a hand resting comfortably on his lower back

He doesn't question it when Eddie starts sleeping in the bedroom every night.

Or makes him box mix cupcakes for Valentine's Day.

Or kisses him for the first time on the couch that's never a bed unless they want to spend the day binge-watching bargain bin films.

Because really, isn't this how it was always going to go? Wasn't this exactly what Steve was asking for when he asked Eddie to skip town with him?

Isn't this what Eddie was hoping for when he said yes?

[hitlikehammers]

The One Where Wayne Munson KNOWS BETTER Than to Lend Air to IDLE GOSSIP

(and does it anyway on accident and ends up thinking his 💕boy's boy💕 might be ✖️stepping out) ——(1/3)

Wayne Munson’s lived his life mostly free from the hubbub of small town gossip. Some was unavoidable in his tiny holler as a boy; more was part and parcel to the service, and plain keeping half-sane in war—anything for a distraction. After all that though, Wayne’d had more’n his fill of even a teaspoon of hearsay, and compared to where he came from? Hawkins, Indiana was small potatoes for keepin’ his nose clear out of it.

Which is all to say he don’t mean to collect any of the latest scuttlebutt on his way just to town after he gets off his shift with the sun barely a glimmer, just past 5 for Leah’s to be open for a better cup-o-joe than the sludge he gets on the floor. All he wants is a hot nightcap because he knows damn well his boy didn’t pick up more grounds before Melvald’s closed last night, and Wayne doesn’t want to see his bed until he’s had a full mug of fair-to-middling coffee.

And honest: he don’t think that’s more than he’s earned to ask.

But it is more than he bargained for signing’ up to, when he sees the only other people in the diner at this hour on a Saturday.

Because the only other people are a girl he don’t know, though he can’t see her real well from the back, which only really means he sees her coffee date full-on and much too well in exchange because they’re leaned in and they’re being all touchy across the table, voices low but not too low—he don’t think they even noticed him come in, let alone come to wait close enough to hear ‘em while he insists on saving the lovely Leah herself the trip to a table when he can damn well carry his own drink, thanks kindly.

“You’re gonna have a coronary if you keep hiding this.”

The girl sounds…she sounds the way Wayne remembers his Mamaw sounding when she was about to hit his Grampy up the head over some harebrained such-and-such. Exasperated, but all from a deep well of unshakable loving.

Which is what perks up Wayne’s attention, and then churns his insides quick right-next, because—

Well. The boy this young lady’s being all over-fond at for his antics is Steve Harrington.

Who, for all that Wayne understands, is meant to be his boy’s boy.

“No, no,” Steve’s shaking his head, tone bowstring-taut; “I’m gonna tell him.” Kid sounds resolved for all of half-a-second before he’s groaning, running hands over his face: “Or, I mean—”

The thunk of the boy’s head to the tabletop clatters the cutlery, and if Wayne weren’t already clued into their conversation, he’d be wholly absolved for dropping eaves given how the noise echoes through the mostly-empty establishment bar-to-door.

“Dingus,” the girl says, and it drips with concern, with affection, with a deep choler that, again, sings loud of married-couple.

Which twists Wayne’s guts all the more to hear.

Because she’s talking to Wayne’s boy’s boy.

“I’m gonna, I promise,” Steve sounds not unlike a man on his way to the gallows, even more when he sighs deep as anything and traces out his lips with his fingers, hands shaky even out the corner of Wayne’s eye for a distance as he hisses low:

“Fuck.”

And Wayne, see, he don’t like borrowing trouble. He meant it about keeping his nose clean of the gossip and the hearsay. So he makes sure he reminds himself good in his own head that he don’t know the facts here, and jumpin’ to conclusions don’t do no favors to nobody.

It don’t do nothing for the way that what he does know, what he sees and hears with his own god-given senses in the now, don’t add up too kindly for the Harrington boy.

Not least because it seems to be adding up poor indeed for Wayne’s boy.

“Do you think he’ll—”

“Steve,” the girl’s voice goes softer, but also frantic almost, as Wayne sees her reach across the way and gather Steve’s hands with a familiarity to the motion that wouldn’t make sense unless…

Unless they’re something special to each other.

Wayne’s watched Eddie reach out for Steve that way. He’s watch Steve do the same. So it…it just don’t make sense—

“You’re shaking,” the girl says, all kinda pitiful, and Wayne’d seen it before, but now he chances a look again and: oh.

Boy’s a leaf in a cyclone.

“It’s a big deal,” Steve rasps out near under Wayne’s ability to hear it.

But he does hear it.

“You need to just lay it out,” the girl tells him, earnest now and more of that than any irritation, any frustration put-upon or otherwise; “be up front with him.”

And it ain’t fair, yet, even if all the signs are pointing that direction; but Wayne likes Steve. He doesn’t want to think the worst of him. And he doesn’t, really, in his heart, think Steve could do or be the worst, from all he’s learned and seen—Wayne’d had uncharitable thoughts about it he kid, before he knew better, based on hearsay which one more time, he don’t countenance as a rule, and he’d been taught better and quick from the second he saw Steve at his nephew’s bedside, and heard the only thing he’s proud and happy to have dropped in upon uninvited:

You nearly fucking died yourself dragging him out, Steve, what the hell—

That Henderson squirt, scolding Steve something fierce.

So Wayne reminds himself this boy loved his boy enough to risk himself to bring Eddie home. Before they were anything to one another. And Wayne knows damn well they’re both something to each other, now. It don’t make sense that Steve wants to…be up front about a notion with Eddie that could hurt.

But then: care can look a lot of different ways, and can change over time. Ain’t nobody to fault for that. And much as Wayne can’t quite believe the Steve he’s gotten to know these past many-months could swallow hurting his Eddie…

Wayne’s been proven incorrect about people more than enough in his life to know better than to think it’s impossible to be wrong about a man’s heart.

“Oh, I’m sure that’ll go over fucking fantastic,” Steve’s huffing, rolling his eyes—apparently he don’t want to be up front with the person they’re talking about. Wayne tries to remind himself that they’ve not flat out said it’s Eddie yet. Wayne shouldn’t go making assumptions.

“Why not?” the girl’s pressing him. “Be honest, with him,” then her tone does go a little judgemental; “you can’t honestly think he doesn’t suspect—”

“I really don’t think he does,” and it’s a strange thing, because no matter the words themselves, it don’t sound like Steve’s meaning to be deceitful about a thing. Kinda sounds a little like he’s mourning, like he’s just in a kind of pain. “If he did, then at least maybe I’d have some kind of,” he waves his hand in the air, looks frantic, at loose ends all around; “heads-up for where his head’s at.”

And they’re both quiet for a spell, and Wayne looks for Leah in the back, knew she was getting food ready and was happy to wait—for better or worse with the conversation he’s been privy to without permission unspooling at his side—but he’s starting to feel antsy for all that he’s hearing, and the way he can’t quite tamp down associating it all with Eddie, with touchy things Steve might have to tell Eddie—

“Tell him by the end of the weekend.”

And now: think he might have to tell, encouraged so damn strong and single-minded by his lady friend with her hand on his arm.

“That’s fucking tomorrow!”

“End,” she’s narrowing her eyes sharp enough Wayne notices more in the shift of the room than to see it head-on; “of,” and then she’s smacking Steve’s arm to emphasize hard enough it rings out; “the weekend.”

Then Wayne notices how her posture shifts, and she leans closer again, so much affection, and easy with it, and welcome for it, no doubt about it:

“I don’t like seeing you like this,” she says low and earnest; “especially not when the thing you’re like this about is,” and then her tone shifts to something bright, near-on hopeful, even:

“It’s such a good thing, Steve.”

“I mean,” Steve mumbles, kind of miserable really; “of course you think so.”

And Wayne don’t like where his head goes for things the girl who’s watching Steve with such soft eyes might think to be good, might think while she’s touching him so close and —

“He’ll,” and she huffs a touch before going all heartfelt again: “Eddie is going to—”

And the moment his plausible deniability about the subject of the discussion is gone, Wayne gives up waiting for his coffee at the counter and…retreats to the corner by the door, far as he can get from whatever’s said next. He’d leave, honest, but the truth of the matter’s this:

He can’t be expected in good faith to figure out how to bring any of this up with Ed if he don’t have no caffeine in him.

☕ 👀 ☕

✨ part ii >>>

For @thefreakandthehair, who requested 'Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.' at my HOBBIT-STYLE BIRTHDAY MONTH PROMPT FEST—and since this is almost a YEAR LATE, could I possibly offer it as a normal-amounts-of-late birthday gift, more than as an egregiously-and-unforgivably-late prompt fill for you?

✨permanent tag list: OPEN (lmk if you want to be added/removed): @askitwithflours @awkwardgravity1 @bookworm0690 @bumblebeecuttlefishes @captain--low @depressed-freak13 @dragoon-ze-great @dreamercec @dreamwatch @estrellami-1 @finntheehumaneater @goodolefashionedloverboi @grtwdsmwhr @hiei-harringtonmunson @hbyrde36 @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @live-laugh-love-dietrich @mensch-anthropos-human @nerdyglassescheeseychick @notaqueenakhaleesi @pearynice @perseus-notjackson @pretend-theres-a-name-here @pukner @ravenfrog @sadisticaltarts @samsoble @sanctumdemunson @shrimply-a-menace @slashify @stealthysteveharrington @swimmingbirdrunningrock @theheadlessphilosopher @theintrovertedintrovert @themoonagainstmers @theohohmoment @tillystealeaves @tinyloonyteacups @tinyplanet95 @warlordess @wheneverfeasible @wordynerdygurl @wxrmland @yourmom-isgay @1-tehe-1

NOTE: it's important to me that you know that Wayne's accept belongs to nowhere, and is just the voice of someone I knew as a kid, who also sounded like a little of everywhere and then again nowhere. so if you think some turn of phrase doesn't fit what you think you're reading in terms of dialect? it's just that this way of stringing words together is—with intention—its own amalgam of places and times

divider credit here and here

[starrystevie]

"what are you doing," eddie mumbles in confusion, hair fanned out on steve's pillow, the moonlight streaming in giving him a hazy halo.

there's a hand on the side of his face and it's cupping his cheek, thumb stroking over his skin. it's soft, so soft, too soft. another hand is trapping his against the mattress, fingers trailing over his forearm before tangling into his own and squeezing tight. it's gentle, so gentle, too gentle.

eddie isn't soft, eddie isn't gentle. eddie isn't making love in a full size bed with wallpaper that matches the drapes. he isn't fluttering kisses in time with fluttering heartbeats and the fluttering wings of butterflies trapped in his stomach like the most lovely cage.

eddie is fucking at 2am when there's enough intoxication to make him look like he's worth it. he's rough and wild, quick and easy. a means to a barely wanted end because he's there and willing and with long enough hair to let people imagine he's someone else.

he should be caged instead of the damn butterflies. he bares his teeth and thrashes his limbs just to fight and see what he can get away with. he laughs loud and brash in the face of sweetness just to see anger, just to see hurt.

he has half a mind to think he's a feral animal that's hardly been trained, performing in some fucked up circus that charges two bucks to see him snarl and hurl insults at anyone who passes by. he bites at the hands that try to touch, try to feed, proving to the onlookers that he's only worth the pocket change they pay to see him.

but steve. he's holding his face like he wants to, holding his hand like it's the most important thing in the world. he's pressing kisses along eddie's jaw without any hurry, without any rush, kissing just to kiss. feeling just to feel. he's like a ray of goddamn sunshine even in the darkness that midnight provides, warming eddie from the inside out.

eddie wants to run. he wants to scream. he wants to feel like he's allowed steve's soft and gentle but he's-

"is this not okay?" and now steve's looking at him with all of whatever he's trying to give him lacing into his face, his eyes and spit slick lips sparkling in the moonlight like a shiny new toy. "do you not like it?"

concern and care are different sides of the same steve shaped coin and if eddie looks hard enough, he can see them blurring together in his frustratingly beautiful sparkling eyes and those damn butterflies start to come back.

"no, it's-" he let's out a sigh, relaxing his tight muscles and sinking into the bed, sinking into whatever steve is willing to give him. "just different, is all. good different, i think."

steve smiles and eddie shakily mirrors it back, before he's ducking his head again and slotting their lips together, fingers still holding tight to eddie's, still cupping his face like it's something precious.

eddie's come to terms with the taste of the metal bars of his cage, teeth wearing down as he tries to bite his way to freedom. maybe this time he'll let himself get used to the taste of soft and gentle smiles if it means loving steve.

[solarmorrigan]

Hands Where I Can See Them, Part 4

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

The only thing Eddie is dreading as much as Steve’s return for his things is Wayne’s inevitable question about where Steve is at all.

After all, Steve has practically been living with them for weeks – something that Eddie may not have allowed himself to consider the significance of, but which Wayne cannot have failed to notice. Though Steve had (apparently) felt the need to do things around the trailer to stay in Wayne’s good graces, he really didn’t have to worry about it; Wayne likes him, and he’ll be asking sooner or later just where Steve has gone.

‘Sooner’ comes two nights after Eddie royally fucks things over. It’s Wayne’s night off, and there’s really no avoiding him; their new trailer is bigger than the last, but it’s still close quarters, and Eddie gets caught when he passes through the living room to get a drink from the kitchen.

“Noticed Steve isn’t here tonight,” Wayne says, blunt as hell, because he doesn’t see the point in doing things any other way.

“Nope,” Eddie says shortly, grabbing a glass from the cabinet and filling it from the tap.

“Wasn’t here last night, either,” Wayne goes on.

“He was not,” Eddie confirms.

“Wasn’t here when I got in yesterday morning,” Wayne says.

“You are a veritable font of observation tonight,” Eddie says, only a little snarky.

Wayne shrugs. “Hard not to notice when he’s here nine days out of ten, then suddenly up and disappears,” he says. He pauses a moment before adding, “Stuff’s gone from the bathroom, too.”

Eddie occupies himself with slowly swallowing down half his glass of water before he answers. “Yeah.”

“Don’t suppose he’s going on a trip,” Wayne doesn’t quite ask, and Eddie lets out a bitter sort of laugh.

“Loving the optimism from you, but no, not… not so much.”

There are a few beats of silence, and then Wayne lets out a slow sigh. Eddie knows him well enough to understand the sound of it – he’s just decided to get involved.

“You two have a fight?”

“Something like that,” Eddie mutters.

“Well that’s vague as hell, son. You have a fight, or didn’t you?” Wayne prods.

Slowly, Eddie shakes his head. “No, I– I don’t think so. I think it was all me,” he says, finally looking up from his glass and meeting Wayne’s questioning gaze. “I fucked up, Wayne.”

There’s no immediate judgement coming from Wayne, no suspicion or scorn, not even a shake of the head and some variation of “Of course you did.” There’s only a measured sort of curiosity in his stare, the same way it’s been since Eddie was a kid and Wayne was trying to figure him out; it’s sort of comforting in its familiarity, in its neutrality.

“You wanna tell me about it?” Wayne asks.

Eddie knows that if he says no, Wayne will let it go. He might keep sending curious and worried looks Eddie’s way, he might ask a few more prodding questions over the next few days, but he won’t make Eddie say anything he doesn’t want to. And Eddie doesn’t really want to – but he thinks that maybe he needs to.

“If… you had to define mine and Steve’s relationship, what would you say?” Eddie asks after a moment.

Wayne cocks an eyebrow at him. “I’d say that feels like a trick question.”

Eddie lets out a little huff of a laugh. “It’s not, I swear. I’m seriously curious,” he says. “There are no wrong answers – go.”

“Well,” Wayne says, still eyeing Eddie consideringly, “I don’t know if you kids put labels on things these days or what, but from the outside, I’d say you’re dating. I’d say that boy is fully in love with you and that you’re at least halfway to loving him back.”

“Right.” Eddie gives a jerky nod. “Seems like that’s what pretty much everyone thinks.”

“But that’s not what’s going on,” Wayne takes a guess.

“Well, that depends on your perspective,” Eddie says, a little high and tight.

“Well, the only perspectives worth a damn here’re yours’n Steve’s,” Wayne shoots back. “So what would those be?”

Eddie drains the last of his water, turning away to put the glass in the sink. “Steve… shares your perspective. Or, uh– he did. But I… I didn’t realize he was so serious. I thought we were just kind of messing around.”

The silence from behind Eddie is so thick that he can’t help but finally turn around and meet Wayne’s gaze again.

“That’s a hell of a blind spot, Ed,” Wayne says simply, and Eddie folds in on himself a bit, crossing his arms over his chest. His main defense has always been to become larger than life – to make big gestures and even bigger speeches, but everything about this situation makes him feel like nothing so much as small.

“Yeah,” he says quietly.

“So, what, you figured out how serious he was and thought you didn’t want that?” Wayne asks, and Eddie hunches a little further in on himself.

“Nope. No, that– would’ve been better, actually. If that’s what happened. But that’s not what happened, because did I mention I fucked up? Because I seriously fucked up.” Eddie’s rambling is stemmed by an expectant look from Wayne. “It’s just – the other night, when the guys were over, we got to talking about it. The whole… me and Steve thing. As in, they thought me and Steve were a thing. And they asked me about it. While Steve was out of the room. And then he, uh. Hm.” Eddie rubs a hand nervously over his chin. “He walked back in when I was in the middle of telling them that he's just a friend and that we’re just having fun. And that’s… when I found out how serious he was.”

“Eddie…”

“I know. I know!” Eddie doesn’t even have to look at Wayne to catch the disappointment coming off of him, so he doesn’t. He scrubs hands over his face and then just leaves him there, telling the rest of the story to his palms. “He was so fucking upset, Wayne, I think– I think I actually made him cry? And the only reason he hasn’t been here to get the rest of his stuff out of the trailer yet is because he was down with a migraine the next day. Like, I hurt him so badly I made him physically ill. So I didn’t just fuck up, but I’m actually a horrible human being and should probably spend the rest of my days living in isolation so I don’t ruin anyone else’s life.”

Wayne is silent for so long that Eddie is eventually forced to peek out from behind his fingers.

“You’re not gonna tell me how bad I fucked up?” Eddie asks, still a bit muffled.

“Seems like you have that covered already,” Wayne says, then he holds up one arm in offer, nodding towards the empty spot beside him on the couch. “C’mere.”

He doesn’t need to ask Eddie twice. No matter how old he gets, Eddie doesn’t think a genuine hug from his uncle will ever stop being comforting, and regardless of whether or not he thinks he actually deserves it right now, he’s going to take it. He crashes down onto the couch and leans heavily into Wayne’s side, sighing as Wayne wraps his arm around his shoulders.

“You’re not a bad person, Ed. You made a mistake, s’all,” Wayne says, and Eddie scoffs.

“Pretty big fucking mistake,” he mutters.

“Yep, that was a doozy. You hurt someone you care about, and you might not be able to fix it all the way. But that doesn’t make you terrible. Makes you human.” Wayne gives Eddie a comforting squeeze. “And Steve ain’t a bad person, either. He’ll know you mean it when you tell him you’re sorry.”

“Yeah,” Eddie says quietly.

“You think about what you’re gonna do when he does show to get the rest of his stuff?” Wayne asks.

“Besides grovel?” Eddie shoots back.

“I mean, what’re you gonna grovel for?”

Eddie lets out a long breath. “I… I know I might not be able to fix it, but I just – I want the chance to try. I’m hoping he’ll just give me that chance.” Eddie pauses for a moment, choked by the dread of the thought that Steve might not give him that chance. “Things don’t have to go back to the way they were, but I at least want him to know that even if I’m shit at showing it, I do care.”

“Sounds like a decent place to start,” Wayne says.

“Think so?” Eddie asks.

“Mm.”

“Well… I hope Steve thinks so, too.”

Wayne gives his shoulders another squeeze and says nothing more, but he doesn’t really have to. He’s already settled Eddie’s nerves more than he’d thought possible; just this is more than enough.

Now Eddie just has to try to hold onto the feeling long enough to talk to Steve.

-

It turns out, Eddie doesn’t have to hold onto the feeling for very long at all; the very next morning—two days after Robin had read Eddie the riot act and left him to begin tentatively planning—another knock comes at the door.

It’s ten in the morning – not as early as Eddie had expected, but early enough that he’s not long out of bed when he opens the door to find Steve on the other side.

In contrast to Eddie’s sweatpants and t-shirt, Steve looks like he’s trying very hard to look like he’s alright. His polo is clean and tucked in, the collar is straight, his hair is as perfectly styled as ever – but there’s still something off. There are dark circles under his eyes, stark against a paler than normal complexion, and none of the ease or contentment that Eddie has grown used to shines from his face. He feels a little like he wants to mourn its absence.

“Hey,” Steve says, nodding in greeting.

“Hey,” Eddie says back, because for all his thoughts and planning, he hadn’t really considered how to start this encounter.

“I came to get my shit out of your way,” Steve says, and Eddie frowns.

It’s not in my way, he wants to say. You’re not in my way. Leave your stuff. Stay.

“Uh. Yeah, sure,” Eddie says instead, stepping aside to let Steve in.

Steve is carrying a cardboard box, but doesn’t seem to have anything or anyone else in tow. For as spread throughout Eddie’s life as Steve has become, he wonders if all of him will fit into that one box.

“Kinda surprised you didn’t bring Buckley to help pack,” Eddie says, glancing back out the screen door, as if Robin might appear out of nowhere.

“Just dropped her off at work,” Steve says. “I figured she probably already had… words for you when she picked up my meds, and I didn’t think any of us needed an encore.”

“I don’t know,” Eddie says quietly. “The stuff she said got me thinking.”

In the process of grabbing a jacket he’d left behind off one of the hooks by the door, Steve only glances back at Eddie. “I’m sure she had a lot to say,” he says, carefully neutral.

“Yeah. She, uh – definitely did. Can we talk?” Eddie asks.

Steve sighs. “Eddie…”

“Just hear me out, please. Then I’ll get out of your way and let you pack in peace, I promise,” Eddie says.

“We don’t– have to talk about it,” Steve says, turning back to face Eddie. “Look, I’m sorry for putting my weird expectations on you. I was reading into stuff that wasn’t there, and I made assumptions instead of just talking to you, and that’s on me. So I’m gonna just – get out of your hair, and you won’t have to deal with my stupid, delusional bullshit anymore.”

“No, that’s not– Steve–” Eddie reaches out for Steve as he tries to brush past on his way to the bedroom, where most of his belongings are. He gets a hand around Steve’s bicep and, though Steve doesn’t jerk away this time, he goes stiff and still beneath Eddie’s touch, prompting Eddie to let go.

It hurts; even though Eddie’s done it to himself, the reaction still hurts. He’s always reached for Steve in the past, always had his hands on him, and Steve had always welcomed him, even before they’d started sleeping together. Now, Eddie takes a step back, forcing himself to give Steve some space.

“That’s not what I want to say at all,” he says. “I mean – I would’ve liked if we’d talked about it, because then I would’ve known, and I could’ve appreciated what it was – what we were doing.”

Steve turns back to face Eddie, his gaze snapping straight to him with equal suspicion and confusion. “What?”

“Steve, you weren’t reading into things that weren’t there, you’re not– you’re not stupid or delusional, I was just – I was sending you mixed signals,” Eddie says. “I was so wrapped up in thinking that I knew what was going on, that I didn’t look at what I really had, and I’m sorry. But if I knew, if I’d just gotten my head out of my ass, you have to believe that in a heartbeat, I would have–”

“Don’t,” Steve cuts in sharply.

“Steve–”

“I don’t need whatever this is, Eddie,” Steve snaps. “You don’t need to have pity on your pathetic ex-whatever I am to you, okay? It’s okay, just– just let it go.”

“This isn’t pity,” Eddie insists with an incredulous little laugh. “It’s fucking not, I swear! This is me saying that I fucked up and I hurt you and I want to make it up to you. I haven’t done anything to deserve it, but I want the chance to show you how sorry I am and how much you mean to me– in whatever capacity you’ll let me.”

“Whatever capacity?” Steve stares at him, brows furrowed.

“Whatever you’ll be comfortable with. As a friend, or… as more, if that bridge hasn’t burned,” Eddie says.

“What, so now I’m relationship material?” Steve asks, pointed.

Eddie winces. “I shouldn’t have said that. I shouldn’t have said any of that, and if I could go back in time and slap myself upside the head before I let any of that shit out and hurt you with it, I would. I know that… I know I didn’t pay enough attention to you, but I also wasn’t paying very much attention to how I was feeling,” he says. “Because honestly? I’m kind of a moron, Steve. I’ve never had sex with someone I really liked, with someone who was anything like a friend, and when I started wanting to be around you all the time, and always wanting you within reach, and when every little thing started to remind me of you, I just thought… yeah, this is what friends-with-benefits feels like. Y’know, like a fucking idiot.”

Steve doesn’t laugh. “I don’t know if I can trust you on that,” he says softly, and that’s fair.

It hurts, but it’s fair.

“Then let me earn your trust back. Please, Steve, just… give me the chance,” Eddie implores, doesn’t even care that he’s basically begging – Eddie doesn’t beg, but for Steve, he’ll make an exception. For Steve, he thinks he’ll do just about anything.

Pursing his lips, Steve looks at the floor beside Eddie’s feet for a long moment, and Eddie gives him the time to sort his thoughts out.

“I want to say yes. Part of me just wants to accept your apology and pretend that none of this happened. Just keep going the way we were,” he says. “But I can’t keep doing that – ignoring shit. I just… can’t.”

“I’m not asking you to,” Eddie says. “I don’t want things to be like they were before, I want – I want to be better. I want to do better.”

“How?” Steve asks, both challenging and curious.

“I want to do it right. I want to show you how much I appreciate you, and how much you mean to me. I want to treat you like you deserve to be treated,” Eddie insists. “And if that’s just by being the best friend I can be, then that’s what I’ll do, but I would love—love—if you’d let me romance you.”

That briefly breaks through Steve’s stony façade, and he lets out a huff of a laugh. “Romance me?”

“Shit, yeah. Flowers and chocolates and candle-lit dates – the whole nine yards,” Eddie says with a slow grin. “All the things you’ve given other people but that no one has ever given you.”

“I…” Steve starts, his own humor fading quickly. “I don’t know.”

It’s better than an outright ‘no.’

“That’s okay,” Eddie promises. “You don’t have to know right now. I can wait. I’m a patient kinda guy.”

(That’s an absolute lie, and they both know it, but Eddie will find all the patience in the world if Steve needs time to think.)

Slowly, Steve nods. “I think… Just, give it a couple of weeks, okay? Really think about it, and if this – if I’m something you still want by then, come talk to me again,” he says. “Alright?”

“Yeah.” Eddie nods rapidly. “As much time as you want. I’m not going to up and change my mind. Two weeks, I’ll ask again.”

Steve shrugs, taking a step back towards the bedroom.

“I will,” Eddie promises – not defensive, but certain. He can wait two weeks. He can wait as long as Steve needs him to. Maybe he can take the time to get his shit together.

He does care about Steve. He does pay attention – and he’s going to prove it.

But in the meantime, the only thing Steve has asked for is space, so Eddie gives it to him. He retreats to the kitchen to let Steve pack up in peace, trying hard not to feel bereft at the thought of the gaps Steve will be leaving behind.

If he’s lucky—if he’s very, very lucky—it won’t be forever.

Part 5

-

Tag List (drop me a line if you want on or off the ride): @bushbees @y0urnewstepp4r3nt @gleek4twd @hellfireone @westifer-dead @anne-bennett-cosplayer @starman-jpg @mugloversonly @swimmingbirdrunningrock @alycatavatar @y4r3luv @rhapsodyinalto @vinteraltus @lilpomelito @tillystealeaves @noctxrn-e

I did my best to catch everyone, but there were a few people Tumblr wouldn't let me tag. Sorry if I missed you!

[imfinereallyy]

Steve Harrington hadn’t talked to his dad in a year.

The last thing the two of them had talked had been after the earthquakes, across the room in the den; his dad barely stepped through the front entryway, and Steve’s back pressed against the back door. The house was messy but still standing, unlike Steve, who was broken and barely keeping himself upright. The only thing Richard Harrington had said to Steve was,

“I think it’s time to move on.” Which was his way of telling Steve they were selling the house and he should figure out his own arrangements. Steve hadn’t cared, though. Didn’t even look at him as he spoke. Instead, he stared at the cracks in the ceiling and wondered if it was some kind of metaphor.

He tried not to think too deeply about it.

It had been a year since then. There had been time to move on, as his dad said. There was no more Upside Down. There was no more worrying about the next move. Max and Eddie were healed. Everyone was back in Hawkins. Robin and Steve lived in a little house on Fifth while Robin took community courses. Eddie practically lived there, too, with the strange friendship bond that had grown between the three of them.

Eddie had argued once it was because their couch was comfier than his bed, but Steve liked to think it was because Eddie wanted to be close to them. To be close to him. Sometimes Steve thought about letting him stay in his bed together.

Time had not moved to that yet.

Everything seemed good. Despite Steve’s resentment towards Richard, and his reluctance to admit the man was right, sometimes it was good to let things go, break apart and move on. Though Steve was sure, this wasn’t exactly what Harrington Sr. meant.

Steve hadn’t talked to his father in over a year. And he didn’t really miss him. Sure, there were moments that passed when Steve would yearn for the small happy moments between them. Secret smiles at baseball games, lunch at his office, and him cheering Steve on at the one swim championship he managed to show up to.

But it always got mixed in with bigger, badder moments. Being left alone for months on end. The belittling. The missed graduation. The yelling. The slurs when he grew his hair out too long. The cold way he said to Steve,

“I think it’s time to move on.”

Like he had been breaking up with a high school sweetheart before leaving for college.

So Steve didn’t miss the man, not really. But in moments like these, in the back of the Byers-Hopper’s backyard at the Father’s Day BBQ, where all party members and parents alike gathered, Steve couldn’t help but ache.

Steve ached for something better than Richard Harrington.

It wasn’t because of parents who stuck around that made Steve’s stomach churn in jealousy, but the ones who decided to show up. It was the way Wayne threw his arm around Eddie’s shoulder and the cheers their beers to something probably ridiculous. The way Steve knew that man would crawl to the ends of the earth for someone who wasn’t technically his, but was nothing short of a son.

It was the way El and Hop manned the grill together. Him laughing at something El said, probably something ridiculous, and her smile back that could light up the sun. The way Steve knew that El wasn’t a replacement for the things Hop had lost, but instead an addition to his life he would choose over and over again.

Steve ached to be loved and care for because someone wanted to. Not because of obligation or by accident. Steve wanted to loved deliberately.

Steve sipped his beer instead of bringing down the celebration with his thoughts. Eddie caught Steve’s eye across the yard and gave him a megawatt smile. Steve couldn’t help but smile shyly back.

“Hey, Steve.” A shy voice said beside him, startling him out of his thoughts. Steve turned to find Dustin standing beside him, nearly up to his nose now with his recent growth spurt. Steve couldn’t help but miss when he was small and could throw him over his shoulder.

Steve was a little surprised to find him there. Dustin wasn’t one to speak small or shy. He liked to make his presence known (much like the lovable metal head he was staring down earlier).

“Hey bud, what’s up?”

Dustin looked around the two of them before answering. Everyone else was with their dads, or talking to one of the party members. Even Robin managed to wrangle her dad and Mr. Sinclair into a conversation about WWII. Dustin looked a little relieved everyone was doing their own thing.

“Okay so you know how like, everyone is celebrating their dad today? And mine isn’t here?”

Steve felt his stomach drop. Somehow in the midst of his self-pitying, he had forgotten that Dustin’s dad wasn’t around either. Didn’t even stick around long enough for his first words. “Yea, dude, I’m sorry this must suck for you.”

Dustin looked nervous. He shifted on his feet back and forth, as if he was trying to find a rhythm to calm himself down. “Yea, so that’s what I actually came over to talk to you about.”

“Yea, Dustin. Im here if you need to talk.”

Dustin seemed to finally be at ease and rolled his eyes at Steve. “No, asshole, I don’t need to talk. I haven’t thought about the dick in years, if I’m honest. I just, it’s something else. And you don’t get to be weird about it.”

“I’m confused.”

“That sounds about right.”

“Hey!” Steve laughed despite his protest. A year ago, stuff like that hurt Steve’s feelings. But now Steve knew it was all in good fun, that Dustin was kind of dick to everyone. And he knew that the joke wasn’t about his intelligence. It hadn’t been a long time, since Steve threatened to push him out of a moving vehicle last time. Steve was pretty sure it had to do with a particular conversation involving his feelings for more than women.

Only Dustin and Robin knew. She was overly supportive, and Dustin instantly made a joke. Both made Steve supported and safe.

The dumbasses.

“Not my fault this happens to you often.”

“Is there a point being made or are you here to just be a dick?” Steve questioned, laughing behind the lip of his beer.

Dustin fidgeted again before pulling something out his back pocket. “Just—promise not to laugh.”

Steve crossed his heart with a giggle before he took a folded white piece of paper out of Dustin’s hands.

Suddenly, Steve’s face got serious as he saw what was on the front.

A poorly drawn Steve with a nail baseball bat, with the title “Happy Father’s Day”.

Steve swallowed thickly before placing his beer on the ground and opening the card. There in Dustin’s chicken scratch, was a message.

Dear Steve,

Don’t be weird about this. Okay here it goes.

My dad wasn’t around a lot, big whoop. Big surprise. I honestly don’t care anymore. Don’t give me a look.

I honestly didn’t think I would really care about any of the dad stuff, didn’t feel like I was really missing out. My mom and her annoying love for cats has always been more than enough. But as time went by sometimes I thought maybe I would be better, I would be different if I had a dad. I see it with the rest of the party, how willingly or unwillingly they all reflect their dads. And how I don’t.

Sometimes I don’t feel like my whole self because if it. Thought maybe I would never really be a whole me because of it. That maybe the world was better off anyway because I know I am a lot.

But then I met you asshole.

I didn’t think I would like you, and more importantly I didn’t think you would like me. But suddenly we are battling worlds together, and you’re hanging out with me even outside the end of days, and I have a new best friend.

If I’m being honest I do see you more as a brother. Someone I look up to. But the more I think about it (again don’t be weird), I do see you as a dad some days. Although the hands on hips do scream mother hen, you’ve been a dad to me in the ways the asswipe who made someone as amazing as me hasn’t been.

You are brave, and funny and despite popular belief you are kind. One of the kindest people I know. You make me feel safe and loved, and give me rides despite me never giving you gas money. Some days I look in the mirror and see parts of you in me, and I feel proud.

Some days I look at you and hope that I can see the braveness and kindness in myself too. I don’t yet, but you make it feel possible.

I don’t need a sperm donor (thank you Robin for that one), I have the world’s okayest dad right here.

Love you brother, friend, dad.

Happy Father’s Day, from your fellow nerd,

Dustin <3

Steve was crying. He knew that. He knew he promised not to make it weird, but Steve couldn’t help it. The little shit got him right in the heart.

He couldn’t be blamed for scooping up Dustin in a hug. “I love you too, Dusty Buns.”

Dustin squeezed Steve tight, “You don’t get to call me that.” He grumbled, but Steve could feel his tshirt getting wet.

“As your father it is my right to get to call you embarrassing nick names.” Steve squeezed Dustin even tighter.

Dustin just laughed and pushed him away jokingly. They both wiped their eyes, but the smiles on their faces remained.

Steve thought about Richard at that moment again, about how he ached for someone to care. And maybe Steve would never get it, but he could be that someone for someone else. He could give that care, Dustin.

The little shit.

“Thank you Dustin.”

Dustin shook his head, his crooked smile remained. “Nah man, thank you.”

They both just stared at each other in comfortable silence before they were interrupted by a barking force.

“What are you two saps talking about?” Eddie slung his arms around the both of them, mouth spread wide in a grin. But then he noticed the tear tracks, and suddenly his face dropped.

Eddie took Steve’s face in his hands, “What’s wrong? What happened?”

Steve shook his head fondly, “Nothing—“ He started, preparing to wave it off. But then Steve realized he couldn’t lie to Eddie. “—nothing bad. Happy tears. I promise.”

Eddie looked at Steve for a moment before nodding, giving his face a tight squeeze, and then dropping his hands. “Okay, Stevie, as long as their happy tears.”

“What am I? Chopped liver?” Dusting grumbled.

“Aweee Dusty, I could never forget you!!” Eddie threw himself at Dustin in a horrible attempt at a hug.

Dustin just pushed him off before rolling his eyes. Steve swore they were gonna get stuck one day.

“Whatever, man. Just make sure that you treat my dad right, or I’m going to have to make some tough calls.” Dustin stared down Eddie seriously before laughing evilly and walking away.

Steve wanted to freeze at Dustin’s implication, but Eddie looked adorably confused, so Steve didn’t feel too bad.

“What’s that supposed to mean? Is this new? Him just getting protective about this without explaining?” Eddie asked Steve.

“Don’t worry about it.” Steve looked down at the card again wistfully, before glancing back up at Eddie. Steve took one of Eddie’s hands and started to play with his rings. A blush bloomed across Eddie’s cheeks; Steve wanted to kiss him. Instead, he just said,

“Just think he’s trying to be a little like his dad.”

***

Dad’s are complicated, and family isn’t always blood. I hope you enjoyed my little Father’s Day contribution. I do headcannon Hopper as Steve’s father figure/replacement, and usually write it that way but this seemed like a fun opportunity to show how Steve is his own father figure for others.

He is a good egg.

Now with Father’s Day over, my birthday is in two weeks which is making me feel all sorts of things. So I’m distracting myself with steddie. Either way expect a lot of writing and updates soon.

[livwritesstuff]

Steve closed down his computer after his last therapy session of the day (it was a short day – it’s only three in the afternoon), and swiveled around in his chair to look out the window onto his backyard.

It’s nice out. He could go for a walk around the neighborhood or putter around the yard for a while –  probably one of the last opportunities before the fall weather starts to turn on them.

He knows he isn’t going to do either of those things though. Instead, he’s gonna sit around keeping one eye on his phone because he knows his oldest daughter Moe’s course schedule and he knows she’s about to be heading to her next class which means she’s probably going to be calling him just like she’d done two other times today.

Sure enough, only a few minutes later, Steve’s phone started to ring with a call from Moe.

“Hey,” he said as he answered the call.

“Hi Pop,” she replied, her voice coming through the phone a little crackly, broken up by the sound of wind and city traffic around her.

“You on your way to class?”

“Uh-huh. That chem for engineers course – Pop, you wouldn’t believe the shit that rats get up to in this city. It’s crazy. I literally just saw a massive one dragging a whole bag of those little…you know…the red cheese – well, the cheese isn’t red, it’s just–”

“Babybels,” Steve finishes for her.

“Yeah, those! Pop – an entire bag of Babybel cheese being dragged down the street by a rat," Moe exclaims before immediately heading down another tangent.

Two months into Moe’s freshman year of college, Steve thinks she might be a little bit lonely.

She’s always been independent (sometimes to a scary extent, if he’s honest) and she’d handled most of the transition like a champ, but that kind of independence has its ups and downs, and Moe’s never been all that great at the social stuff. Unlike her sisters, she hadn’t had a big group of friends in high school, just a few good ones that she’d made early on in school and stuck with until graduation.

Now, he thinks she might be having some trouble with the whole making new friends piece of moving to a brand new city (goddamn New York City, because these kids won’t let him see a second of peace, and even though he trusts Moe and knows she can take care of herself, Steve still isn’t really in a place yet where he can sleep easy knowing she’s out there on her own).

He knows that Moe will find her people just like he had done years ago. In the meantime, she's been fulfilling that human need for social interaction through lots of calls with him and Eddie (and he'd once even caught Moe and Robbie on a video call together, which he's pretty sure had never happened before).

Steve’s not gonna complain. He’d pretty much drop anything to talk to his kids.

After a few minutes, the background noise coming from Moe's side of the call fades away.

"Okay, I have to go," Moe says, "I might call you later."

"I'm around," Steve replies, because for her (for all his kids), he'll always be.

"'Kay. Love you Pop."

"I love you too."

He waits a beat for Moe to end the call and when she does, he gets up, sticks his phone in his back pocket so he'll know when it rings again, and goes on with his day.

[sp0o0kylights]

"I feel him." El insists. "Alive." 

She hasn't said his name since Will first raised them all over the walkie, but every person in the room knows who she means. 

Not that Steve can say his name either.

"But we watched him die." Nancy says gently, before Dustin properly loses it from where he sits in the corner. "Owen's even sent someone back through to check." 

"Yes." El agrees, but it's clear she's frustrated. "He died here. But he's not alive here, he's alive over there." 

"In the Upside Down?" Steve asks, and pretends his voice isn't cracking with desperation and barely concealed hope.

"No!" El snaps, before taking a deep breath and collecting herself to try again. "Through the other gate." 

"Okay." Hopper cuts in, hands waving in some kind of "stay calm" gesture. "El, honey, I think we're all still hung up about the other gate." He pauses, before adding. "And how Creel dying opened it." 

El gives him a thousand yard stare. 

"I'm getting the crayons." Joyce sighs as she stands up. In a mutter she continues, "Should have gotten them to begin with." 

Silently, Steve agrees. 

xXx Eddie xXx

It goes like this.

A bat breaks through the side of the trailer. It swoops low, teeth rattling, but it doesn't attack. 

It emits an odd, echoing screech, before  flying through the gate, to the Rightside-Up. 

"Shit." Dustin curses wildly. "Shit, they're gonna try and invade!" 

"I thought they were guarding the gate!" Eddie protests, as that echoing scream returns tenfold, coming from the mouths of too many demobats. “If they wanted to invade wouldn’t they have done that already!?” 

"No, because Vecna was focused on opening more gates! This must be his plan--to open enough gates to push an army through. We have to lead them away!"

"Dustin-!" Eddie calls out desperately, but finds himself overwhelmed by bats as more and more break through. 

He fights through them, trying to get to Dustin, trying to listen to what the kid’s screaming.

He can’t hear him.

Not over all the screeching, the beating bat wings and the thudding noises as they smack at his head. Their teeth snap, tearing into every piece of him they can reach.

Eddie doesn’t know how long he’s been surrounded, but he hears the trailer door bang open--and shut.

"Dustin!" He screams this time, voice as loud as he can make it.

The kid’s faster than he is.

He’d planned this--or at least, had thought about it long enough to get himself a solid head start, leaving Eddie scrambling after. 

Fighting through the torrents of bats. Abandoning the gate because Hawkins can burn for all he cares--but there are people who don't deserve to go down with it.

People like Henderson, who have bright futures ahead of them.

Eddie tears his way towards Dustin, unthinking, just running.

‘Stupid, stupid, stupid-!’ He thinks, but not at Dustin. 

At himself, because he knows the kid. Knows what to expect from how he acts in games. 

Steve even called it--and Eddie’s not stupid enough to think he was talking to both of them when he warned them about not being a hero. He was included purely because Dustin would fuss otherwise and they were short on time.

Dustin’s on the ground when Eddie finds him, and he whips his spear at the few dozen bats that attack him, their bodies circling, teeth biting. 

He gets in two good hits before shit hits the fan. 

To his right something explodes, flames high and reaching, a thunderous boom whipping out so loud that Eddie's ears ring. 

A shockwave nearly takes him off his feet, bandana pulled from his head and freeing his hair. 

Eddie crashes on the ground next to Dustin.

 Sees all the blood and doesn't know what to do. 

"Come on man." Eddie pleads. "Come on!" 

He doesn't get an answer. 

It goes like this.

Vecna’s dead. 

The blast that killed him was from some kind of explosion that took out all of Creel House. 

It fireballed skyward, and the Upside Down rapidly began doing….something, seconds after. 

Returning, Eddie decides, to whatever it was before the asshole got thrown in here. 

Or dying, maybe.

(This is easier to think about than the fact that no one could have survived that blast. That there's a black hole Eddie can see, and it has to wrap miles and miles around the Creel House because he's still near his trailer.

It the trees down the stupid hill didn't make it then Robin, and Nancy, and Steve--

He stops. Shakes his head.

If Eddie thinks about it, it will make it real. 

He can't let it be real.),

The monsters all fall as one, dropping to the ground like puppets with cut strings. 

Eddie had been pummeled by a few demobat bodies before he could get clear, though given how some still occasionally twitch and hop around weakly after, Vecna's death doesn't necessarily equal their own.

Madly, he crushes a few beneath his boots. 

Knows that won't bring his friends back. 

Stomps on a few more because he can't do anything about that, and he can't cry any harder.

It goes like this.

Eddie gets back topside to find Vecna's revenge in action.

 It's an act worthy of a mad god, not that Eddie would ever give him such a title. 

Hawkins wasn't split. It was consumed, with large portions falling deep into the earth that opened under it. Smoke chokes half the town from an outburst of fires, while downed trees and electrical lines make walking a chore. 

The road is a cracked and pitted mess, littered with holes large enough to swallow entire cars. 

Passage is nigh impossible by car, and downright dangerous by foot.

It makes Eddie want to sink to his knees in despair.

There were still people around, that first day. 

There were still people around the second and fifth days too. 

But then the monsters appear. 

They're not the demobats, or demodogs or even the demogorgons that Eddie was told of. 

They're something--else.

Mutated and mutating, taking on appearances that reflect both the Upside Down and the Right-Side Up (a term coined by one of the freshmen--Eddie can't recall which.) 

Actual flowers, great purple and orange looking blooms sprout teeth and attack. Vines stick out of arcade cabinets, carting them around like a hermit crabs shell. 

Some people breathe the falling little pieces of ash and suddenly aren't people anymore.

(It was Erica, who had coined the term. The Right-Side Up. 

Erica who was also deceased, because the fucking explosion didn't just take out the Upside Down version of the Creel house, but the real one too. 

Which meant Max and Lucas and Erica…

But Eddie's not thinking about that.)  

It goes like this.

Wayne's gone.

He'd been at the plant when the Earth had swallowed it, his first day back to work because he'd used all his PTO trying to find Eddie.

The coworker who watched it happen makes sure to tell Eddie his uncle insisted he was innocent. That the old man never stopped looking.

Likewise, the trailer is gone. 

It fell barely a day after Eddie had climbed out of it, one half eaten while the other teetered dangerously on the edge.

There's cops at the borders of the city. 

They’re been commandeered by the military and the feds both, and people in heavy gear prowl around like guard dogs just waiting to be let off leash.

Helicopters fill the air, always circling and searching. Units of men and women begin parading around with guns as they escort tanks and other battle equipment through the streets. 

They're looking for something besides the monsters, and they're happy to cut the phone lines and police the survivors to find it.

No one's allowed in--or out. 

Eddie tries to escape the first few days, after he realizes everyone who knew the truth is gone. 

Thinks maybe he can get to the Byers, and that super powered girl out in California, but keeps getting cut off.

Twice they've nearly caught him, which means twice Eddie has been forced to come to terms with the fact that he's one of the things they're after.

They know him by name.

They know he was involved in Creel's takedown.

Eddie"s not just being hunted by the town now. 

He’s being hunted by the United States as a whole. 

It goes like this.

Eddie doesn't want to die. 

Can't bring himself to take his own life, forever too much of a coward. 

So he berates himself while he hides.

Wonders what the fuck his plan is here. 

Focuses on surviving, stealing food, sleeping in people he loves houses and hoping maybe some of them made it out.

(Given how Gareth's and Jeff's places are both untouched, he doesn't think they did.) 

He’s never prayed before but now he’s praying to every deity he can think of. Hoping, wishing, that if he can’t get out alive, he at least goes down quickly. 

It goes like this.

Steve Harrington walks out of the woods with a nailbat in his hands, like a blood soaked fever dream. 

Eddie doesn't care. 

He hugs him so hard his own ribs hurt and the crazy thing is Steve hugs him back even harder. 

"You're alive." Eddie sobs, face buried in Steve's shoulder.,"You're alive, you're alive…" 

Steve grips him for a moment before whispering back; "And so are you." 

He pulls away and Eddie struggles against him, not ready to let go, fingers grasping at his shirt. 

Steve strokes his hair, his stupid tangled, gross hair and Eddie looks at him, desperately needing the contact to prove that Steve is real. 

That he’s here. 

 "I need you to listen--I'm not your Steve." Steve says, and Eddie’s so desperate for contact that the words don’t register for a moment. 

Not that they make sense when they do. 

"What?" Eddie asks. 

"There’s a--okay.” Steve sighs, before saying; “I am going to absolutely blow the explanation, but I need you to trust me.”

“I do.” Eddie says, even as Steve fulfills his own prophecy, and gives a completely nonsensical explanation.

At the end of it, Eddie can’t bring himself to care. 

As long as he has Steve back--even if it’s not technically his Steve, Eddie will follow him wherever he goes.

[queenie-ofthe-void]

The Babysitter Chronicles - Byers

Steve POV 5+1 (immediately follows s2) || wc: 3.9k || cws: check tags || full fic ao3

Henderson || Mayfield pt 1 / Mayfield pt 2 || Sinclair || Wheeler || Byers || +1 Hopper

Can be read as a standalone

~~~

Steve’s filled with dread, standing in front of the Byers’ front door at 6:30am on a Saturday morning. Out of all the kids’ parents, he’s pushed Joyce off as long as he could manage. But he’d promised Mike he’d try, and according to Jonathan, this is the best time to catch her.

That doesn’t change the fact it’s not even light out, and a boy she probably hates is about to knock on her door. Hell of a way to start the day.

He knocks anyway.

Joyce opens the door in a soft grey t-shirt and baggy black sweats. Her hair is brushed through, mascara coats her long lashes, and the smell of fresh coffee wafts through the open door. At least he can find small consolation in the fact she’s been up for a while.

“Hi Joyce, I mean Ms. Byers,” he stumbles, off to a great start. “Sorry to catch you so early but–” 

“No,” Joyce interrupts, voice firm. 

Steve stands there, mouth hanging open around an unfinished sentence. He watches as her eyes harden. She squares her shoulders and stands straight-backed and tall, only reaching about Steve’s shoulder. Joyce Byers in all her fury still makes him feel small, like maybe this was a bad idea.

“I’m sorry, Steve,” Joyce says. “But I know why you’re here. And the answer is no.”

“Oh,” he responds lamely, deflating even further. 

Her voice is soft, but she’s unyielding. “The kids like you, and I know their parents are ok with you watching them. Which is fine, for their kids.”

She pauses, and Steve knows what’s coming. Mentally prepared himself for the worst-case scenario. All of Dustin’s logical arguments and Lucas’ hype talks couldn’t prepare him for how thoroughly Joyce flays him open.

“But, Steve, I would never trust you with my kids.”

Even though he's desperate to run, he plants himself like a tree on her front stoop. He's trying not to be that guy. The kids deserve the best version of him, and on some level, he knows cutting out the bad parts of himself includes letting Joyce Byers drag him through the mud.

He tries to hold her gaze, really he does. Her dark eyes are filled with conviction, but he can see the gentleness to them as well. Almost sad, like he’s making her do this to him. 

Joyce grips the door, knuckles white with tension. She takes a step out onto the front stoop, forcing Steve to take a measured step back. The door stays cracked and the smell of burning toast reaches his nose. Nausea rises in his throat.

“They shouldn’t have even been in those tunnels in the first place,” she says, voice growing louder as she gains momentum. “We asked you to watch them, we trusted you with them, and they still almost got killed! And I know, I know, you helped Jonathan and Nancy last year– saved them from that, that thing crawling out of our walls.”

Her eyes flicker over her shoulder, like the demogorgon’s still haunting her house. He follows her gaze, like Billy could still be standing in her living room with a blood-stained, toothy smile.

She sighs, exasperated. At her wits end for being pushed into a conversation she’s probably been dreading for weeks, since it seems she knew what he wanted. “But you’d be with my baby, my Will, everyday. He’s had bullies since kindergarten, and it’s only gotten worse since everything.

“He doesn’t deserve more bullies. And from what I’ve heard, you’re no different. Just like your father.”

Steve flinches– can’t help himself– the sentence ringing through his head.

Just like your father.

“No, no I’m not, I swear,” he chokes on the words as she steam rolls his pathetic lamentations.

“You’ve pushed my boys– and kids just like them– around your whole life, making them feel small for having less money, less friends, less stuff. Every time Jonathan came home with a new bruise or bloodied knees, how do I know that wasn’t you?”

Steve’s watering eyes are fixated on the small, furious woman before him, flushed with a rage familiar to any decent mother protecting her kids. He’s trying so hard to hear her, but his head is filled with static and his mouth feels stuffed with cotton. Steve wipes his hands down the front of his pants, then shoves them in his pockets.

“You called my boy queer! Something I’m sure you heard from your father. I saved for months to get him that camera for his birthday and you just smashed it, like it was nothing. Like we’re nothing.”

Neither of them notice the pair of shadows moving beyond the door frame in the living room. 

“I cannot allow someone like you around my boys,” she hammers home. This is what Nance meant by a thesis statement he thinks deliriously. “Sue and Karen might be alright with it, but my answer is no.”

Steve sniffles and nods stiffly as turns to leave, hoping to at least make it to his car before the tears start. He knows he deserves what she’s said, knows the truth of it in his gut, but he’s stood here long enough. Now it’s time to run and hide, like his mind’s been screaming to since she set her sights on him.

“Mom,” Jonathan says, out of breath like he ran here from his bedroom. He’s appeared over Ms. Byers’ shoulder like a ghost, or a ninja– silent and on the attack. “What’s going on?”

He’s a sleep-rumpled version of his mom, wearing a plain, soft t-shirt, and grey sweatpants scattered with light bleach stains. Steve notices he still has pillow creases on his left cheek. His gaze follows the red indent down to Jonathan’s jawline where a small, purpling bruise is haloed by faded red lipstick.

All of the air in Steve’s lungs is punched out of him, hard and fast. A feeling he should be used to from Jonathan Byers. 

Steve thinks he sees a flash of pastels in his periphery, dashing through the trees to the road. Or maybe it’s his imagination. It doesn’t matter, because he can’t look away from the uncomfortably familiar mark on Jonathan’s neck.

Jonathan must notice. His hand flies up to his neck, wiping the mark and finding a smear of red on his fingers. The spell holding Steve breaks, and he can breathe again. 

Their eyes meet, and Jonathan’s cheeks now match the stain on his fingers. It’s awkward and Steve doesn’t know how to fix it or how to make this easier. Because Steve never knows how to fix things, only how to break them. Something Joyce seems well aware of.

Distracted, Steve’s just now noticing the small shadow creeping up behind Jonathan. He sees the young boy poke his head out from behind his brother’s back as he takes a small step towards the commotion.

“Steve was just leaving, sweetie,” Joyce answers, voice soft and sweet as she turns away from him to go back inside.

“Wait, no that’s not what I meant,” Jonathan continues. He shakes his head and roughly pushes his unruly bangs from his eyes. “Steve, why are you here?”

Jonathan’s looking at him like he knows the answer. And he should really, considering the only reason Mike agreed to have Steve as his babysitter was because Jonathan promised he’d talk to Will about it, and then they’d talk to Joyce. 

A long train of telephone Steve was relying on to get a head start at Joyce’s good will. Which, apparently, never happened.

Steve plays along into Jonathan’s prompting. She’s already said no, so what’s one more try with a little back-up.

“I was asking if I could babysit Will, since I watch the rest of the gang too. Can’t leave any party members behind,” Steve says, parroting Dustin.

“And I was just telling him–” Joyce starts, before she’s interrupted.

“I think Steve would be a great babysitter,” Will says. His hair’s a mess, and he’s straightening out his matching Star Wars pajama set as he steps further into view.

Joyce rushes over to him, squatting down to meet his eyes. “Will, honey, you don’t need a new babysitter. You can still spend time with your friends at their houses, when their parents are home.” Jonathan takes the distraction to wave Steve into the house, silently closing the door behind them.

“But the other parents don’t know about– you know,” Will hesitates, before mustering up the courage to say “about what actually happened to me.”

“Baby,” she says, gently running her hands up and down his small arms. “You know we can’t tell them. We went over this.”

“It’s not about them knowing the truth,” Will says. Steve watches as the boy tries to make himself bigger, taller, even with the slight shake in his voice. “They just look at me like I’m broken. They’re sad when I’m around and they just think I was kidnapped or lost or– whatever the story is. That I was sick or something.”

Steve can’t help but imagine Will Byers, always the shy, quiet kid in the Party, having to constantly withstand the severely misguided pitying glances from adults who aren’t read-in on vast government conspiracies and alternate dimensions. Steve’s almost nineteen and can barely manage alone.

Her brows are knitted tight and her lips downturned the more Will confesses. “Well, Jonathan can–”

“I don’t want Jonathan to watch me anymore.”

Joyce’s eyes widen, confusion painted across her face as her mouth drops open. Steve turns to glance at Jonathan to find that, unlike his mother, he’s not surprised at all. In fact, there’s a light shining in his eyes and a small uptick to the corner of his mouth.

The tension is thick but familial, leaving Steve unwelcome and gawking at a private conversation. Which he supposes he is: both unwelcome and gawking.

“Go on, Will, it’s ok,” Jonathan encourages. He shines with a proud smile, like he’s watching his little brother walk for the first time. 

Will’s hesitant, his eyes downcast as he shuffles side-to-side. Waiting for him to continue, Joyce stays quiet. Steve can’t help but feel envious of Will and Jonathan at having a mom patient enough to hear her son outright, even when she doesn’t agree with him. She saved him from an alternate dimension, but sometimes the little things are just as important.

“When Jonathan dropped me off at Steve’s for DnD last week, it was fine… at first.”

“You both told me that was at Mike’s,” Joyce interrupts, turning a motherly glare at Jonathan who sheepishly avoids eye contact. She rounds on Steve again, closing the distance between them in three long strides to get in his face. “This is exactly what I’m talking about, Steve. What if something had happened and I didn’t know where to find him because of you?”

“Mom,” Jonathan interrupts, irritated. “That’s not fair. We are the ones who said it was at Mike’s– Will and I. I knew you wouldn’t let him go if you knew it was at Harrington’s place, so I told Will to lie.”

“You’re damn right I wouldn’t have let him go,” Joyce argues, turning back to Jonathan. “He’s not safe there! I know Steve Harrington and I know his parents. What if they had been home?”

“They haven’t been home in weeks,” Steve mumbles. He doesn’t mean to say it out loud, catching himself off guard. Years of practicing the lie, and he slips in front of the last three people on earth he’d want to know about his home life. He’d never complain, not to them. 

She shoots him a confused glance, an emotion behind her eyes Steve refuses to consider. But it seems she’s the only one whose noticed he said anything at all as Jonathan speaks up again. Shaking her head, she shifts her attention back to her son. In the midst of the chaos, Steve breathes a small sigh of relief.

“Mom, it was fine– everything was fine. Just–” Jonathan stops. He gestures to Will to keep going.

Will puffs his chest up, holding his mom’s gaze as he barrels on. “I liked having it at Steve’s. It smells nice, like candles, not like farts and laundry detergent like Mike’s basement. He had all the snacks we like, and he’s got a huge table that can fit all our stuff.”

The kid’s smiling now, and goddamn if it doesn’t melt his heart. Steve’ll be disappointed if Joyce says no, but at least he knows for a fact Will felt comfortable around Steve and liked being at his house.

“But after Jonathan picked me up, Lucas said they stayed up and watched movies all night. That Steve even made an ice cream sundae bar and there were a million toppings.” Will’s arguing is starting to sound like a petulant child, a slight whine to his tone, and Steve can tell Joyce is losing her patience.

“Will, that’s something you and Jonathan can do. We’d love to do sleepover nights with your friends.”

“No, Mom,” Jonathan states, strong in a way Steve’s never seen from him before. His only tell is the waver behind his voice. Steve’s willing to bet Jonathan would rather face down another demogorgon than take on his own mother. Yet here he is, sticking his neck on the line for Will.

“What do you mean, no?” It’s barely a question.

“I don’t want to babysit Will anymore.” He quickly closes his eyes and shakes his head, like an etch-a-sketch. “No, wait– I’m not babysitting Will anymore.”

The room falls deadly silent. Joyce’s lips flatten into a thin, white line, matching the color of her knuckles. She looks ready to explode, like how his father used to look before the first blow. 

Steve flinches when she takes a step towards Jonathan, and she clocks his reaction just like before, but ignores him to glare at her oldest son.

“I want to spend more time with Nancy.” Jonathan’s eyes are wide, like he forgot Steve was there, and he can see an embarrassed flush painting his ears. Steve just shrugs. It is what it is, he’ll get over it like he always does. Jonathan relaxes a bit. “I want to get a job so I can take her on dates that are more than just driving out to the quarry.” 

“Jonathan,” Joyce jumps in, “you can’t get a job. You’re grades are slipping as it is and you don’t have time–”

“Exactly! I don’t have time for a job right now. But if Steve starts watching Will after school and some weekends, I can get a job and keep my grades up and spend time with Nancy.”

She’s shaking her head, but Jonathan plows on before she can jump back into the fray.

“Billy Hargrove is a goddamn monster, Mom. He almost killed Steve! And we all know the kids would’ve found a way to get to the tunnels no matter what. Steve was beat to hell and still went with them.” Jonathan points at Steve’s face in emphasis, like a fucked up version of a pretty model showboating a new car. Except the model is the guy who stole his girlfriend, and the car is a has-been with a fucked up brain and no future.

“And last year,” Jonathan continues, “Nancy and I would be dead if he didn’t come back for us. After everything that happened between us, he had no reason to turn around. Hell, I’m not sure I would’ve.”

He doesn’t know Jonathan Byers well, but Steve knows for a fact Jonathan would’ve faced death to save him– to save anyone. It’s not even a question.

Joyce still doesn’t seem convinced. “Everything that happened last year is exactly what I’m worried about, Jonathan.”

“It’s my fault, not his!” Jonathan shouts. “It’s my fault he got sucked into this mess, it’s my fault Nancy left him, and it’s my fault he broke the camera!” Color drains from his face. Steve freezes, staring at him. 

Steve still hasn’t told anyone why he broke the camera– none of them have talked about it, and he never planned to bring it up. Ultimately he’s thankful that the pictures exist, since it provided the only clue to Barb’s death and the Upside-Down. 

But he doesn’t understand why Jonathan took the pictures. And it doesn’t change the fact Steve closes his blinds every night.

“What do you mean, your fault?” Joyce asks, out of sorts. 

He stammers a bit, looking to Steve for help. Steve doesn’t want to have this conversation at all, let alone in front of Jonathan’s entire family. He glares back at Jonathan, tersely shaking his head once.

Lie.

He gets the gist, relief stark on Jonathan’s face. 

“Steve caught Nancy and I sneaking around when we were looking for Barb and Will,” Jonathan quickly recovers. “We didn’t want him poking around, so we let him think we were flirting. But some pictures I had taken of Nancy fell out of my bag, and Steve saw them. That’s why he broke my camera.

“We ran into him and his friends later while they were spraying up The Hawk. I didn’t know it was all Tommy Hagen’s idea, so I got in Steve’s face and I hit him first. He called me queer, and that’s shitty. But he apologized, saved our lives, and bought me a new camera. So–”

Jonathan turns to him and holds out his hand. It reminds Steve of his father, but also of Hopper, which he decides is a more apt comparison.

He reaches out and Jonathan grasps his hand firmly, shaking it up and down just once, yet continues to hold on. Forging a new pact for the future.

“Steve, I’m sorry about everything.” He seems genuine– eyes wet, shoulders set, and back straight. Steve tries to match his posture. He might not be as good with words as Jonathan, but he can at least show this moment is just as important to him. “But you helped protect the kids so we could save Will. And you saved Nancy and me. So– I trust you.”

Steve can’t handle this. It’s too early in the morning for heavy emotions and deep confessions, but Jonathan’s searching for forgiveness in the face of a former bully. Steve steps up to the plate and meets him halfway.

“I shouldn’t have broken your camera, I know how expensive they are and how much it meant to you. I was angry and I wasn’t thinking. And I, I umm–” 

Steve realizes he’s never really had to apologize to someone before. Sure he’s apologized to Nancy, but it seemed like a normal thing for guys to always apologize to their girlfriends. He’s apologized to Dustin, but that’s more like placating a rowdy toddler. 

This feels different, somehow bigger. Maybe it’s because Jonathan’s his own age, or someone his parents have programmed him to think is lesser than himself. Maybe it’s the deep regret that’s made itself a home in Steve’s stomach, rotting away at the memory of a vicious word spat haphazardly at a stranger.

“I’m sorry I called you queer. That’s fuc– I mean messed– up, and I’m sorry.” Steve sighs, running a nervous hand through his hair, less painful with the stitches removed. He almost misses the stinging sensation. “It’s something my dad says all the time and it was the first thing I thought of, and I hate that. I’m not my dad, I never want to be like him.”

Jonathan nods and pulls Steve forward into a hug, and when they separate Steve feels lighter. A heavy weight he hadn’t known about, removed from his shoulders with Jonathan’s help. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think Jonathan felt the same way by the smile on his face.

“Yeah!” Will shouts, unprompted and overly excited for the tone of this entire conversation. There’s a wide grin on his face when he holds up his hand to high-five Steve and cheers “welcome to the Bad Dads Club!”

Steve scoffs, shocked but completely delighted and confused at Will’s eager declaration. Joyce smacks her hand to her forehead and mutters something like jesus christ under her breath, while Jonathan barks out a laugh. 

He grabs his little brother by the shoulder and shakes him like a rag doll until Will breaks out into giggles. “Will,” Jonathan says, failing to keep a straight face, “remember when I explained the difference between family jokes and not-family jokes?”

Will’s smile fades slightly, red embarrassment splashing his cheeks as he quickly glances between Jonathan and Steve, realizing his social blunder. Jonathan squeezes his shoulder and gives him a sad, reassuring smile. But Steve won’t be the reason for the small frown tugging on Will’s lower lip.

Steve holds out his hand, palm up. He smiles at the kid, eyes alight with mischief. “Bad Dad’s Club,” Steve says, like it’s more than just a fucked up childhood and is instead forging a pact, binding them through one shitty commonality. 

Will returns his smile and high fives him, who then turns to his brother. Jonathan laughs again when he pulls Will in for a hug instead, shrugging at Steve.

Joyce’s gaze travels between the three boys standing in front of her, and Steve can see the moment she cracks.

Her stance has softened. Her lips are still pursed, her eyebrows only slightly furrowed, but her arms hang relaxed at her sides and she’s looking at Steve less like she wants to throw him out and more like she doesn’t know what to do with him.

“You get one week,” Joyce says sternly, pointing a finger in Steve’s face. He goes cross-eyed looking at it, but he can still see Will and Jonathan high-five. “One week of picking him up after school. I get done at Melvald’s at six, so you can bring him home at six-thirty.”

Before Steve can wholeheartedly agree, she rounds on Will and Jonathan next, who stand at attention, trying to stay serious through their own excitement. 

“You,” she points at Jonathan, “better keep your grades up if you’re getting a job.”

“And you,” she gestures to Will, “better have all of your homework done when you get home. If you can’t get it done at Steve’s house, then you don’t get to go.”

She backs away from them, taking a deep breath in and exhaling loudly. “Is all of that clear?”

Waves of yes’s pour from their mouths. Will wraps his arms around his mom’s waist and Jonathan lightly punches Steve’s shoulder. 

“Thank you, Ms. Byers,” Steve says as he turns to leave, “I’ll make sure you don’t regret this. Any of you.”

She sighs, a small sad smile on her face. “I really hope that’s true, Steve.”

On the drive home, he realizes she never mentioned the slip-up about his parents’ absence. He’s grateful for it. Talking with adults has never been his strong suit, and his conversations with each of the kids’ parents are starting to weigh on him. 

The Byers’ might not have as much money or means as the Harrington’s, but that doesn’t stop Joyce Byers from being a damn great mom. So he’s not surprised she took note of his own small mishaps. Maybe she’ll bring it up one day, maybe she won’t. All Steve cares about is that he finally has the opportunity to earn the trust of the fiercest parent he knows.

~~~

[bigdumbbambieyes]

winter break my @harringroveholidayexchange gift for @alicetallula 🤍 explicit, 6.2k, complete

--

They lay like that for a moment, soaking it in. Breathing together slowly, trying not to fall back to sleep, listening to the sound of Mr. and Mrs. Harrington moving around on the other side of the cabin.

“I’ve never skied before,” Billy admits in a whisper.

Steve hums in response, mumbles, “I’ll teach you. I promise.”

“With your level of balance and coordination?” Billy snorts in amusement, earning him a pinch in retaliation, which only makes him laugh harder.

Read on AO3

[theshippirate22]

Eddie had seen some weird shit before.

I mean, he’d almost gotten eaten by rabid demon bats, and he’d watched Nancy Wheeler-resident priss- go ballistic with a sawed off shotgun, and he’d watched Chrissy crumple up and float into the air via the power of some eldritch horror.

Yeah, he’d seen some Weird Shit™️

However, nothing he’d seen in his 19 years of life as weird as this. Not demobats, or a gun obsessed honors student, or a literal magic murder. This was the weirdest thing he’d ever seen, no contest.

Steve fucking Harrington- you know, the most popular guy at Hawkins High, Hawkins’ most eligible bachelor, teenage heartthrob Steve Harrington- was sprawled on his stomach on the coffee table. His knees were on the couch behind him, feet kicked up to rest against the back of it, and his face was on the floor.

Well, that wasn’t true. His face was buried in Andrea Wheeler’s stomach and he was saying “Nom nom nom,” over and over again into her onesie, tickling at her sides to make her squirm.

Andrea saw nothing wrong with this, giggling incessantly with her pudgy baby fingers fisted around the longer parts of his hair.

The laugh that burst out of Eddie couldn’t have been stopped; that was a fact. It didn’t help that when Steve heard him, he instantly shouted “Ah shit!” and tried to lift his head, but Andrea refused to loosen her grip and yanked on his hair, which was immediately followed by “Ow! Shit!”

Eddie had to lean against the doorway to support himself. His sides ached from laughing so hard and he was gasping for breath not managing any words except “What are you doing?”

Steve managed to extract her fists and look up, flushed pink in shame all the way to the tips of his ears. He scrambled off the coffee table and the second he was out of her sight, Andrea started to cry.

“I was just playing with her…” Steve mumbled, sweeping her off the floor and slipping his knuckle in her mouth for her to chew on. “I didn’t know you were coming over.”

“I didn’t know you were on babysitting duty again.” Eddie wiped a few of his tears away, managing to keep his face straight. “I get why you’re her favorite now, though. You are committed to the bit.”

Steve rolled his eyes, pink flooding back into his face. He wouldn’t even look him in the eye. “Yeah… what can I help you with, dude?”

“Oh, come on. Don’t get shy. It’s cute, you know?”

“Oh, gee, thanks.” He pushed into the kitchen, setting Andrea in the high-chair-esque thing strapped to the counter. She instantly started to cry again so he handed her a wooden spoon She fumbled with it for a minute before sticking it in her mouth.

“I’m not shitting you, I’m serious. She’s gonna turn out a lot better than any of us did.”

“God, I hope so.” He pulled the box of baby oatmeal from the pantry and set it on the counter. Andrea threw the spoon and reached for him, starting to cry again.

Eddie picked up the spoon and set it on the counter in her reach, but he didn’t look away from Steve. Andrea did not accept the reoffered toy, and threw her head back to scream.

Eddie winced- God, this kid had a set of lungs on her- but he didn’t miss the way Steve’s shoulders slumped a bit and his eyes drooped heavily. But he sighed deeply, and gave Andrea his hand. She took hold of his thumb and pinky in each hand respectively and gnawed on the fingertips of the other three. “Will you grab her bottle?”

He crossed over and opened the fridge. There were three bottles- again with the Weird Shit; most twenty-something men didn’t have containers (plural) of their ex’s breastmilk in their fridge, but what did he know- all of which were labeled with a sticky note bearing a day of the week. “Which…?”

“There’s one from Tuesday, I think. Whichever is oldest.”

Eddie retrieved it, realized it was just about empty and grabbed the Thursday one too just in case. “What’s gonna happen when your parents come home and find all this stuff?”

“They won’t.” He poured some of the powdered oatmeal into a bowl, dumped in the Tuesday milk, stirred it, contemplated, then added some of Thursday. “Come home, that is.”

“Why not?”

“They don’t live here anymore. Like they own it and everything, but they bought a house in Miami, and they’d rather be there, so that’s where they live.”

He sat at the barstool across the counter from him. “And are we happy about that…?”

Steve shrugged. “I don’t know anything different. They’ve always been gone.”

Eddie wanted to say something, to take this away from him, but he was afraid anything he said would be interpreted as pity and it wasn’t, and Steve didn’t want that anyway.

Besides, Andrea had started to make a game out of biting the spoon every time Steve put it in her mouth, and he was starting to get frustrated again very quickly.

“Hey, can I have a turn?”

Steve stared at him. It was certainly no secret Eddie had no interest in the baby; the first time he’d been handed her, he looked positively horrified and Steve had laughed and taken her back.

“I don’t ever get to feed her,” He added quickly. “I only ever see her when Nancy’s around, and… well, you know.”

Steve wiped Andrea’s mouth with the spoon, set it back in the bowl, and pushed it across the counter to him.

Eddie had never fed a baby; there wasn’t anyone younger than, like, 13 in his life besides Andrea. He’d watched Steve do it long enough to figure it out though.

She regarded him with some suspicion for the first couple spoonfuls, but eventually, she warmed up to the fact that he had the food now.

Steve leaned back against the counter behind him, tipping his head against the cabinets and closing his eyes.

Eddie cocked an eyebrow. “Steve?”

“Hmm?” He mumbled, not opening his eyes.

“You do know you can tell Nancy no, right? You don’t have to babysit every time she asks.”

“I offered.” He yawned. “She doesn’t like asking me, but I know how important it is for her to finish her dissertation, so I don’t mind.”

“You know, she could send her to daycare.”

“Absolutely not. Books said no.”

It had been a while since Steve had referenced The Books. They weren’t a necessary now that she wasn’t a newborn, but what The Books said, goes. It had been weird enough watching Steve spend so much time reading while Nancy was pregnant and after Andrea was born, but it was equally weird hearing how much he’d learned and how much he talked about them. He’d never get used to that.

“Look, it’s not a big deal.” Steve added. “It’s like three times a week, is all. She needs the time. She’s got to write the dissertation.”

Eddie set the spoon down to look at him. “I don’t know, maybe she should’ve thought of that before she got knocked up on a one-night stand.”

“Eddie!” Steve snapped, staring him down with the bitchiest face he’d ever seen.

“Sorry, sorry. I’m just saying.”

“She’s our friend. The least we can do is help her. It doesn’t matter what happened, Andrea is here and someone has to watch her. I can do it, so I should. It’s what friends do.”

Eddie nodded haphazardly. He’d heard the whole spiel before. “Well, you’re my friend. And I’m worried about you.”

“What- Why- I’m fine!” He spluttered indignantly.

“Yeah? Alright. Go take a shower.”

“Why…? Do I need it?” He lifted his shirt to sniff-test and grimaced. “Okay, yeah, I do. What’s your point?”

Andrea started to fuss because the oatmeal was gone. Steve and Eddie lunged to grab the box at the same time. Steve got it first, just because his arms were longer, but Eddie yanked it from his hand and started to pour some more.

“That’s what we’re talking about.”

“We? Who’s ‘we?’ What are you talking about?”

Eddie sighed, stirring in more of the Thursday milk to get the consistency right and offered it to Andrea. “What do you think I’m doing here?”

“I don’t know, man. I thought you needed something.”

“Buckley sent me. So did Wheeler, actually. This is your intervention.”

Steve rolled his eyes, propping his hands on his hips. “I don’t need an intervention.”

Eddie raised his eyebrow suspiciously. Eyed the sink full of dishes- Steve hated dishes in the sink- the stack of mail overtaking the kitchen table, the dirty towels in a wad on the floor in front of the laundry room like a free throw that didn’t quite make it.

“What?! Okay, so it’s harder to do stuff when I’ve got the baby. Whatever. I’m the only person that lives here.”

“Steve.”

“It doesn’t really matter anyway. What if I went to your house and started nitpicking the state of your room? Because, I guarantee it’s worse than this.”

“Steve.”

“I don’t need an intervention. Nothing’s wrong. You’re all delusional because you think I’m completely incapable of everything, even though I’ve been-“

“Steve.”

“What?!”

He hadn’t realized until now that Eddie had stood up and crossed around the island to stand right by him. “You do know Nancy finished the dissertation two weeks ago, right?”

“How do you know that?” He swallowed hard, obviously irritated at being caught in his lie.

“Because she told me. Right after she told me that you’ve called almost every day for the last month to offer to babysit. You never go out with Robin anymore, you don’t want to come get high with me anymore, you don’t even take the kids to the arcade anymore. We’re worried.”

Steve rolled his eyes again, starting to turn around like he could walk out of the conversation because it was so unbearably ridiculous, but Eddie grabbed his shoulders and steeled him where he stood.

“Steve.”

“What.” It wasn’t a question; it was an ultimatum.

“Do you have postpartum depression?”

Steve gave him the dirtiest look that could’ve been possible. “Har har, you’re hilarious.”

“I’m not fucking with you, I swear. Do you?”

“Oh, yeah, I’ve got a mental illness that only new moms get because of a newborn over a baby I’m not even the father of SIX MONTHS after she was born! That’s definitely what-“

Eddie wasn’t here to argue. He roped his arms around Steve’s neck and pulled him down against his shoulder in a kind of violent affection that reinforced that Steve was being a moron, but Eddie was here. He wasn’t going anywhere.

Steve tried to push away at first, but Eddie didn’t let go, if anything pulling him closer, and eventually, his hands fell away from Eddie’s chest and wrapped around his waist. His shoulders relaxed, his face buried into Eddie’s neck.

“She needs me.” He mumbled. “She needs me. She needs me.”

“Who does?”

“Andrea.”

“Yeah, but she’s gotta be with her mom sometimes too. She needs her too. Nance said she’s with you more than her.”

“She needs me.”

Eddie swallowed, running a hand lightly through Steve’s hair. “This is about Mike, isn’t it?”

And Eddie’s stomach started to ache when he felt Steve’s silent sob vibrate through him. “They never call me anymore. They’re at the arcade right now, and they never even asked.”

“Yeah, yeah I know.” He mumbled, hating how his voice cracked uncomfortably. “They’re shitheads. It’s not your fault.”

“I’m not ready. I can’t do it yet. I’m not ready.”

Eddie didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t fix this. So, he rubbed Steve’s head and murmured reassuring nonsense while he thought of something better.

Robin thought this would happen. “Eddie,” she’d said to him. “What do you think will happen when the kids learn to drive?”

Eddie had given her the weirdest look. He hadn’t gotten it then. But Claudia had asked Steve to teach Dustin and he was so strange about it, always claiming he was too busy to give Dustin a lesson. Too busy for Dustin.

Karen had taught Mike. He was the oldest anyway; it made sense for him to get his license first.

“Why would it matter?” Eddie had asked.

She just shrugged, looking far off. “They won’t need rides anymore.”

“Yep, that’s how that works.”

She must’ve known he wasn’t quite getting it, but she just shook her head dismissively and murmured, “He’ll think they don’t need him anymore.”

“Who will?”

But she’d left it at that. That was the end of it.

He felt stupid now, with Steve pressed weakly against him and tears dripping down his neck. He should’ve known exactly what she meant, he should’ve stopped this.

Instead, he mumbled, “You’re gonna be okay,” another time.

Andrea fussed again, reaching pudgy, flexing fingers in Steve’s direction. Up! She demanded. Don’t forget about me!

Steve pulled himself away quickly, swatting at this eyes with his sleeve to try and wipe all of it away and lifted Andrea up onto his hip. “Sorry. That was weird. I couldn’t, uh… I’m just… You don’t have to… Don’t…” He stammered, looking anywhere but at Eddie and finishing unconvincingly with, “I’m fine.”

Oh hell no.

“Absolutely not.” He reached for her, despite Steve’s protests and her grip on his sweater but took her anyway and let Andrea lock her fists around the collar of his vests. “Go take a shower. I got it. Take a break, Stevie, I’m on top of it.”

Steve looked drained-the redness in his eyes didn’t hide the darkness underneath them, and no amount of masking could hide the slump in his posture- which is probably why he didn’t try to argue much, especially after Eddie added, “Go! Don’t think about it! Just let me take care of you.”

Steve closed his eyes, running his hands down his face and mumbled out a soft, “Okay.”

He started towards the stairs, pausing to grab the laundry on the floor Eddie had pointed out earlier, and was promptly told to leave it, which he did but he seemed more annoyed about that than the commandeering of his baby.

Andrea let go of his jacket for just long enough to take hold of a piece his hair and babbled something, following it with a deep sigh.

Eddie nodded. “You’re right. What are we going to do with him, huh?”

part 2? more of the comfort part of hurt/comfort? let me know!

[helpimstuckposting]

I’m a ghost and you are a shadow

Part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | part six | part seven | part eight | part nine | part ten | part eleven

—

When the doorbell rang at 8am, Steve realized that he, Eddie, and Robin had been talking for four straight hours - laughing, shrieking, goofing around - and Linda Harrington had still not descended the staircase. He was kind of glad for it, still didn't know how to react despite the tears and hugs they shared yesterday. He wondered if she was deliberately giving them space to make him feel better, or if she was doing what he'd known his own mother to do and just staying away. He knew he'd see her again, had to face her the same way he faced everyone in the party, but he tucked that away in the 'For Later' box as well.

This time he was the one to open the door — Dustin and Lucas rushing through the archway. Will tossed him a hesitant smile, walking past more gently, and Mike stayed on the steps, taking Steve in with a scrunched up face still full of disbelief.

“So weird,” he muttered as he shoved past, following the other kids into the house.

Steve scoffed and rolled his eyes, glancing to the driveway to see if anyone else had arrived yet.

“Good morning to you, too, Mike,” he called after the teen, shutting the door and following them to the living room.

The hours he spent with Eddie and Robin in the dark dredges of early morning light had passed. As the first handful of the party took their places on the warn white couches in the living room, Steve glanced over at them. New mugs steaming with a fresh brew of coffee held tightly in their hands and Robin’s lips were pursed in a look she’d definitely stolen from Nancy. Steve shouldn’t be looking forward to the kids leaving, shouldn’t be looking forward to an empty house that he’d always dreamed would be full to the brim, but he was already wishing to go back into the dimly lit kitchen with Robin chasing Eddie around the counter.

A bit ashamed of his thoughts, and in need of distraction, Steve trudged back to the kitchen, pulling ingredients to make the group breakfast. He wasn’t sure if they’d eaten already, but knowing how teenage boys were, he was sure they wouldn’t mind more. Really, he just needed to stall. Stall the incoming talk about what they were going to do, how they were going to fix this, how they were going to send Steve back into the wasteland of his own Hawkins. He wanted to bask in the easy laughter of the early sunrise again, pretend that his two favorite people were there to stay, that they’d never left.

But Steve’s always learned quickly that happy moments were fleeting, that even happy memories could squeeze his chest and fill his lungs with a bitter sadness at the realization that he can’t go back. It’s just forward, always forward, into a dark abyss that sometimes contained more happy memories he’d never be able to go back to. Forward, forward, forward into the unknown, away from where it’s safe, away from where it’s warm and gentle and nice.

Steve put a pan of eggs on the stove, lighting the gas to scramble up a large plate. If it were just him, he’d add some other ingredients to the mix but Will didn’t like onions, Mike didn’t like tomatoes, Dustin wasn’t a fan of peppers, and Robin was lactose intolerant so he couldn’t put cheese in it. He knew she’d eat it anyway, but she shouldn’t, even though she never listened to him.

Instead, he left them alone to cook on low and started chopping the veggies to plate on the side. He could hear the group talking over each other in the living room, arguing about what to put on the TV while they waited for the rest to arrive, and Steve let their voices wash over the silence he’d hid himself in, flooding the room with a comfortable static.

The tap of a knuckle knocking against the countertop behind him broke through the hum of their voices. Steve turned to find Dustin awkwardly leaning against the kitchen island, arms crossed against his chest, watching Steve prepare a full breakfast that no one had asked for but Steve had felt compelled to make anyway. He glanced back toward the hallway, slightly bouncing in place like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to be there.

“Hey, kid,” Steve greeted, turning back to the eggs once the veggies were cut.

“Do you… do you need help?” Dustin asked. Steve didn’t really, but one look at the lost expression on Dustin’s face told him he shouldn’t say no.

“Yeah, could you start plating everything for me while I cook the bacon?” he asked lightly, putting the large pan of eggs next to the veggies so Dustin had easy access. The boy nodded silently, unwrapping his arms from around himself and heading straight for the cabinet that held the serving dishes. Steve tried not to think about the Dustin in his world who’d never been around long enough to know Steve’s house like his own.

They worked in tandem silence for a few minutes, Steve making sure to cook the bacon with at least three levels of done-ness, because Max liked her bacon cooked in the fires of Hell itself, but El preferred it less crunchy. He listened to Dustin shuffling around behind him, the clanking of ceramic on granite and scrape of utensils blended again into the din of conversation leaking in through the living room.

Steve was just about to scoop the last of the bacon out of the pan when he felt arms wrap tightly around his waist. The movement startled him, and he almost dropped the spatula into the grease-filled pan before he righted himself and set it down. He glanced under his arm to find Dustin clinging to him with his eyes shut firmly tight, the weight of his arms constricting like a snake squeezing the breath from his lungs. The tightness settled into his bones in the same way his conversations with Eddie and Robin had the day before, like he needed them, like spider veins of gold piecing all of his cracks back together.

“What’s up, kid?” he asked, voice barely a whisper.

“I know you’re a different Steve, but I’m still glad you’re here. I missed you. I didn’t say it yesterday,” Dustin whispered back, just as softly, like a noise too loud would break the moment and shatter the bubble they’d made for themselves. "I just... I just wanted to tell you, just in case..." he trailed off.

Steve’s eyes pricked with emotion once again, and he brought a hand up to scratch at the bridge of his nose. He didn’t need to cry again, it was ridiculous at that point, but he wasn't the only one who thought this was all a dream and that made something squeeze in his chest. It seemed like that would happen a lot while he was here.

“I missed you, too, Dusty-Buns.” Dustin huffed at the nickname, his warm breath seeping through the back of Steve’s shirt, but he didn’t give a retort.

Once he let go they bled back into silence, putting the last of the bacon onto a serving platter, and carried all the food out into the dining room. Mike, Will, and Lukas were arguing on the couch while Eddie and Robin whispered their own argument to each other off to the side. Eddie cut himself off when he met Steve’s curious eye, a thin smile drifting over his face that didn’t quite meet his eyes.

Before Steve could toss over a questioning look, Eddie turned away with a flourish to entertain the teenagers. He didn’t finish his conversation with Robin, but a glance to her didn’t give Steve any idea what they’d been talking about. She looked annoyed. With a roll of her eyes, she walked over to Steve and Dustin to help set food on the table.

They’d just placed the last dish down when a dull thud of a car door eased through the house. A few more followed, and then the door opened, the gentle voices of Jonathan and Nancy leaking through to the living room.

Max and El came barreling through the foyer, taking Steve by surprise as they wrapped their arms around him. He’d expected them to treat him the same as yesterday afternoon, the way the boys had when they’d entered the house earlier. The attention from them and from Dustin just a few minutes prior were gnawing their way under his skin.

“Careful, Mayfield, I’m gonna start thinking you’re glad to see me,” Steve said, the humor in his voice a desperate attempt to cut through the sentimentality like a knife.

“Yeah, yeah, don’t let it go to your head,” she mumbled, extracting herself from the hug and snatching a strip of bacon from the tray with her bare hands before even sitting down.

“I’m glad to see you,” El said, smiling up at him. She gave him one more squeeze tight before letting go, finding herself a spot at the table to load up a plate of food.

He shook himself from the stupor that held him since he wandered into the kitchen. He shouldn't be avoiding anyone while he had them, while they were right there in front of him. Steve clapped is hands to grab everyones attention, gesturing down to the food filled table.

"Breakfast is ready for whoever wants it!" he called, watching amusedly as the boys scrambled over themselves to find a dish before he even finished his sentence. As he watched over all the teens yelling and fighting over utensils, he couldn't help but notice the feeling bubbling around in his chest. It felt carbonated, like the bubbles could fiz up past his throat in a scream, or bubble up enough to carry him away, right off his feet. He'd been trying to dampen his emotions and drown them all out for so long that it took him a while to realize it was contentment, happiness.

Steve cleared his throat looking over the party, trying discreetly to cough all the bubbles out of his system like he could shake a soda until it was flat. This was dangerous, getting attached was dangerous, and right after breakfast they were all going to make plans to send Steve back, he couldn't be feeling happy right now because he'd just feel worse later — later when he has to march through whichever gate spat him out here, later when he has to look at everyones face as it closed forever and he never saw them again. It would be much worse later if he let himself bleed into these feelings and let them wash over him like he desperately wanted to. Instead, he fit a mask over his face he'd spent so long crafting and tried to let the conversations at the table wash over him instead.

He caught Eddie's eye for a moment, the man still seated on the couch, and looked away before he could read past the mask. The Steve Harrington of this world didn't seem to have one, maybe Eddie wouldn't be able to tell. There was a tap at his shoulder, and Robin stepped up beside him with a small plate of food.

"I know you didn't eat anything," she whispered, like it was a secret. She nudged the plate into his arm, urging him to take it. He was fizzing again, but only let it go so far as to bubble up into a soft smile, taking the plate and smothering the feeling with food.

They all sat and ate, Eddie wandering over once the kids seemed full. It didn't escape Steve that he was left with the scraps, whatever bits and pieces were scattered around the table. He wondered if that was a piece of Wayne, just like Steve couldn't hide the pieces of him he'd unwillingly stolen from his own parents. Sitting at the table, the morning bled easily into the afternoon, just as the pre-dawn light had bled unforgivingly into the chaos of the morning.

The kids were always bickering or chattering or throwing things around, it was easy to let it all fill the house and fill any stray thoughts Steve didn't want to take hold. That was, however, until Nancy cleared her throat and reminded everyone they were here for a reason.

The din was gone, the cacophony thoroughly stifled. Everyone in the room seemed to look at him, like he knew what was going on. Steve was never the plan guy, had always been the 'just stay here and watch the kids' guy, though he could never even do that.

"So, first we should check and see if any of the gates are open and then, if there aren't, see if any new ones have popped up," Dustin started, thankfully taking the attention away from Steve.

"I mean, obviously it would be one of the gates around here. It's probably either the gate near the pool, or the gate in the woods the demogorgon opened to get to Steve's house," Mike said, leaning back in his seat. He looked earnest, though his voice had a thorough overtone of 'duh' to it, as if any of this had a precedence.

"Well, okay, first, we don't even know if it's a previous gate to begin with! I just babbled a little about scars and like, what kind of metaphor even is that, really. We don't know if that's how the gates actually work!" Robin butted in. She looked a little panicked, like reality was setting in and she was getting nervous. Steve selfishly hoped she was nervous to lose him, like he was to lose her.

"It's a good theory," Nancy said firmly, daring Robin to contradict her. "Do we really know how this works? No, but we do know that Steve wandered in from the woods. Mike is probably right, and that means you are too. We should check the woods first."

They continued for a while, Dustin suggesting they check out the other gate locations around town just to make sure there aren't multiple open. Steve obviously couldn't join any team wandering around town, what with wearing a dead man's face and all. It looked like he wouldn't be on babysitting duty anymore, though obviously the only kid at this point was Erica, and she wasn't there. Steve wanted to keep it that way. The least amount of people they could tell before he left, the better. He hoped Hopper and Joyce wouldn't find out either. Not until after. He wasn't sure he'd be able to look them in the eye after what happened in his world.

They ended up agreeing on three groups. Jonathan, Will, and Mike would start at one end of the town; Dustin, Lucas, Nancy, and Max starting on the other. They would take compasses to see if it reacted to any of the previous gate locations, and meet somewhere in the middle. Steve, Robin, Eddie, and El would take the woods, since that was where they expected the gate to be and El would be able to check it in person. If no one found a gate, they would walkie and figure it out from there, El could try her void mind trick and surf the TV static or whatever it was that she did. If someone did find a gate... they would walkie and figure it out from there.

They still needed to know if it was safe, if it really was connected to Steve's world, if it was possible to pass through again or if it was even possible to close.

Steve let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. At least, it seemed, that it would take a while to fix the problem no matter what happened. Maybe he'd be able to stall more. Maybe he'd have more time. He hoped he would have more time.

—

Thank you thank you thank you to those still reading! I know we're kind of pattering out here, but I am still having so much fun writing this even though I've slowed down a bit lol I know how I want to end this now, which is exciting! I'm buzzing to get there

@devondespresso @weirdandabsurd42 @sirsnacksalot @space-invading-pigeon @aliea82 @goodolefashionedloverboi @emly03 @bestwifehaver @mentallyundone @13catastrophic-blues @estrellami-1 @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @likelylad @aellafreya @wxrmland @shunna @fangirltofangod @howincrediblysapphicofyou

[lazer-meme]

having omegaverse steddie thoughts,,, like omega steve unconsciously purring while eddie dresses his wounds

[michael-the-rouge]

Thinking about Steddie au 1985 by Bowling for Soup. I can't decide if it's in Steve's POV or Eddie's. Some of the references in the song does fit Steve, but the song as a whole fits Eddie. Let's do from Eddie because it fits a little more in my opinion.

Eddie, who did make some attempt at being a Rockstar but loved Steve. Eddie, who couldn't imagine a life without Steve, decided to stay to be with Steve because Eddie values him more than any other dream. Several years down the road, Steddie has several children. The younger ones still obviously adore Eddie's wild antics, but the older ones going through puberty are pulling away. Eddie, who had a horrible moment when one of the older kids was listening to Ozzy Osborne, told him that "he wouldn't get it since he is a dad." What do they mean, I wouldn't get it? Steve, I should be the first in like who gets it. Steve, I'm still Rockstar cool, right? Steve tries his best to comfort his partner. (They have been together for so long. Gay marriage is freshly legal but they haven't talked about an official wedding yet.) Unfortunately, Steve attempting to comfort Eddie actually turned into an argument where some how Eddie let's slip that he wished he did leave back then and become the Rockstar he always had wanted to be. How Eddie feels he missed out on the rush of being on stage, meeting other artists, maybe by now he could have been on tv if he did leave after high school! Steve knows that Eddie doesn't actually regret staying with him, going to school, becoming a literary and drama teacher, and them having kids. Steve knows that, but it still hurts, and Steve decides to go hang out with Robin for the evening, canceling their date night.

At first, Eddie doesn't get why. Steve knew Eddie always had this dream. He had accepted that it wouldn't happen, but he could still want it, right? Just because he wished he went to Chicago to try and become a famous musician doesn't mean that he doesn't love his life now. Eddie, who starts to think about what would be different. Steve and him would have officially settled much later in life. Even when they officially settle, Eddie would still be going on the road, Steve, at home with the kids. But, if they went that route, who knows if they would even still have their kids. Eddie remembered something Steve said long ago how much it pained him for his parents to leave him behind and would never want that for their kids. That must be why Steve is upset. The fear of their kids feeling abandoned and Eddie wanted to kick himself. Eddie did actually get up and kicked himself before going to each of the kids rooms to check that they were going to bed. The very last one, the child who said he doesn't understand and is uncool, is laying in bed with their head phones on. Eddie gets their attention and let's them know that they should take the headphones off soon so they don't damage it in their sleep and that he loves them. As he is leaving their room, his kid tells him that they're sorry and that they do still think Eddie is cool and if he knew any of the songs on the album they're listening to. Eddie was elated and for the next half hour, they sat on their bed talking about music and artists.

It wasn't until almost an hour later that they heard a cough and knock that the two realized how late it was. Steve was standing at the door smiling and reminded them that it was time for bed. Eddie and their kid groaned but agreed, wishing each other a good night and would pick the conversation back up on the weekend.

When back in the bedroom, Eddie apologized, telling Steve that he didn't mean to imply that he would prefer to be a parent that is hardly around. Eddie loves their kids and does want to be here for every moment. Sure, he would love to tour, but IF that life was possible, it would have been scheduled around the kids. Steve gave him a confused look, then smiled and laughed a little. Steve confesses that when Eddie had said he wished he had gone to Chicago, Steve had taken it that he wished he hadn't stayed to be with him. "You could be out meeting so many amazing people who would have dreams similar to yours. Instead, you stayed and became a dad and a partner."

"Wait, so you thought I would have just left you? "

"Eddie, at the time, Dustin and the others were still in high school. I couldn't just leave."

"Yeah, I know why we stayed. But I think we are miscommunication. I would never ever leave you behind. I didn't leave because I love you more than being famous and playing music across the country. I would never love anything more than I love you. That dream would have only existed if you came with me. Instead, we stayed here to be closer to Dustin and the others. While staying here, we both found enjoyment in careers. By the time they had graduated, we were halfway to being able to afford a home. You wanted to be married and have kids, and all I truly wanted was to be with you."

Steve started to cry, which made Eddie cry. They laid in bed that night going over their own personal wants and desires that didn't include the other or their kids and started to make a plan on how to fulfill their own small selfish dreams.

That might have led to the fact that Eddie got corroded coffin back together for a night so that they could perform at Steve and Eddie's wedding party.

[solarmorrigan]

For the angst prompt thing: Steddie and "Don't fucking touch me."

Hello! Thank you very much for sending a prompt, I'm sorry it took me so long to post, but I do think this one is my favorite out of all the fills I've done for this prompt list <3

[No warnings; Unnamed Freak (who apparently got a name in the most recent novel, but I didn't know that at the time) is named Oliver]

Angsty-ish Prompt List

-

“I’m gonna step outside for a minute,” Steve leans in to murmur in Eddie’s ear, even though the music isn’t that loud.

“Yeah, sounds good.” Eddie nods, and only just keeps himself from turning to catch Steve’s mouth in a kiss when he feels the brush of his lips against his ear; it’s not his fault he’s developed some kind of Pavlovian association between having Steve’s mouth anywhere near his skin and receiving kisses – but they do have company.

Said company is just Gareth, Jeff, and Oliver, but still. Eddie has some decorum.

Steve stands from the couch and the arm he’d had slung around Eddie’s shoulders slides away slowly, his hand brushing warm and heavy over the back of Eddie’s neck, thumb stroking once, familiarly, along the side of his throat before disappearing entirely as Steve moves towards the front door. He doesn’t do so great with groups of people in small spaces anymore; the noise gets to him, and the heat generated by so many bodies in close proximity tends to give him a headache, so he takes breaks now and then, just to give his brain a few minutes to unbend.

The door swings open on silent hinges (Steve had attacked it with a can of WD-40 and a look of determination earlier today, insisting he couldn’t stand the squeaking anymore; he’s always doing things like that around the house – little repairs, organizing, picking things up, even though Eddie insists he doesn’t have to. He says he wants to, the endearing little weirdo) and Steve steps out into the cool evening, leaving Eddie and the boys behind in the warm light of the trailer’s main room.

“So,” Jeff says, looking up from his spot on the floor and gesturing vaguely at Eddie with his beer can, “how’s that going for you guys?”

Eddie blinks at him. “How’s what going?”

“The whole thing between you two,” Jeff clarifies, and Eddie raises a skeptical brow at him.

“You wanna talk about me and Steve having sex?” Eddie asks.

Jeff’s nose scrunches in distaste. “What? No.”

“Not ever,” Gareth jumps in.

“I mean…” Oliver says with a shrug, flinching when Gareth pelts him with a balled-up napkin.

“No,” Gareth reiterates.

“I refuse to apologize for simple curiosity,” Oliver sniffs, and Eddie, seated next to him on the couch, gives him a shove.

He’s glad his friends are accepting – supportive, even (he’d like to say he wouldn’t hang out with them if they weren’t, but let’s be real: nerds could be hard to come by in their neck of the woods, and as long as they were the quiet type of homophobic, Eddie would probably still play D&D with them. But he’s glad they’re not), but he does have some boundaries.

Like, one or two, maybe.

“I just meant the whole… dating thing,” Jeff says, taking a sip from his beer. “Because I’ll be honest, I really didn’t see it at first, but it actually seems to be working out.”

“Dating?” Eddie parrots blankly.

“Yeah. You guys are in, like, some kind of never-ending honeymoon phase or some shit,” Gareth says. “Hasn’t it been over two months?”

“Uhhh, no, I think you gentlemen are confused,” Eddie drawls. “Steve and I are not dating.”

This declaration is met with a moment of silence.

“Seriously?” Oliver finally says.

“Yep,” Eddie replies easily. “No relationship shit here. Strictly a friends-with-benefits-type deal.”

“Seriously,” Olver says again, flatly this time.

“Yes, Oliver, seriously,” Eddie huffs, reaching over to give him another shove, only to have his hand pushed away.

“Eddie, he was practically sitting in your lap just now,” Jeff says. “You two are all over each other.”

“Constantly,” Gareth adds.

Eddie shrugs. “It’s not like this is a big couch; we gotta squish. Anyway, Steve’s just a touchy kind of guy.”

“He doesn’t sit like that with any of us,” Gareth points out.

“Yeah, well, you guys aren’t the ones receiving benefits,” Eddie says. “You want him to sit on your lap? You could ask.”

Gareth lets his head hang back with a noise of frustration. “That’s not the point, and you know it.”

“Don’t you two go on dates?” Jeff asks. “I’ve seen you at the movies. You talk about going out to eat, doing other shit…”

“Yeah, see, that’s the friends part of friends with benefits,” Eddie snarks. “Friends hang out sometimes, I’ve been told. We are all, in fact, hanging out right now, but that doesn’t mean I’m dating any of you.”

“You don’t see the way he looks at you?” Oliver asks, and Eddie can’t help but scoff.

He appreciates the fact that Oliver is passionate about pretty much anything he does, but it also means he’s given to romanticizing. He doesn’t usually manage to drag Jeff or Gareth in with him, though.

“Pretty sure he looks at me like a friend, because that’s what we are.” Eddie rolls his eyes before offering a smarmy little grin. “I mean, I’m sure he looks at me as an exceptionally attractive friend, but that’s it.”

“Genuinely can’t tell if you’re fucking with us, man,” Jeff says, rolling his eyes.

“Genuinely, I am not,” Eddie promises, taking the last viable swallow from his beer before getting up and heading for the kitchen, wiggling his empty can at the others with a raised eyebrow in question. Gareth raises his own near-empty can with a shrug and Eddie nods. “Look,” he says as he ducks towards the fridge, “Steve isn’t the kinda guy you have a relationship with, anyway, you know?”

Eddie doesn’t mean this in a negative way, just as a matter of fact. Steve just doesn’t seem to be a relationship kind of guy. Nancy had been something of an outlier, in how long she and Steve had lasted, and it had become clear after the dust from the Upside Down had settled that he really doesn’t have any interest in pursuing her further. Just the other day, he’d mentioned to Eddie how difficult relationships can be, and about how glad he is they have their thing together instead.

“Being with you is just… easy,” Steve had said; he hadn’t been looking at Eddie at the time, his face instead pillowed on Eddie’s chest, hair sticking to his naked skin where the sweat was still cooling from their last round, but Eddie could see the edge of a smile on his lips.

And Eddie doesn’t have much experience with relationships himself, but he knows that being friends with Steve is easy and that the sex feels equally easy and that the way he’d agreed with Steve and carded his fingers through his hair had sent Steve right to sleep with that same smile still in place.

Easy.

Now, Eddie shoves his head into the fridge and reaches for the beers that have somehow gotten pushed to the back. “It’s nothing major, okay?” he calls back towards the living room.

“Eddie…” Gareth calls back, an edge to his voice.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m on it.” Eddie waves vaguely, making sure to grab a second beer. “Anyway, Steve’s a good friend, and he’s really hot, and we’re just having fun.”

The bang of the front door against the frame startles Eddie so badly he nearly smacks his head on the underside of the freezer as he stands, a beer clutched in each hand like he might be able to use them as projectiles.

There is no threat, though – just Steve, who had apparently failed to catch the screen door before it had shut too quickly behind him. He doesn’t seem to have noticed; he’s just standing there, staring at Eddie, color rising high in his cheeks, eyes wide and shocked, like he’s just been slapped.

Concern wells up from Eddie’s gut, and he opens to his mouth to ask what’s wrong when Steve finally speaks.

“Yeah,” he croaks, “I’m not having fun.”

Eddie’s brows furrow in confusion, the beginnings of cold dread trickling into his veins well ahead of any conscious thought.

“I think I– I think I should go,” Steve says.

He grabs his keys from the side table by the door, where they’ve lived next to Eddie’s and Wayne’s for the last few months whenever he’s been at the house, and then he’s gone again, the screen door banging shut once more behind him.

And Eddie has no idea what just happened, but he knows it wasn’t good. He drops the beers on the counter and bolts out the door after Steve.

Steve is nearly to his car by the time Eddie scrambles down the front steps, and he’s paying absolutely no attention when Eddie calls after him.

“Steve,” Eddie tries again, stumbling to a stop right behind him as he jams his keys into the driver’s side lock. “Steve, for fuck’s sake, what–” he reaches out, wrapping one hand around Steve’s bicep, and Steve jerks out of his grip.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” Steve snaps.

Eddie pulls his hand back, but doesn’t step away, entirely baffled by the sudden turn the evening has taken. “What the hell happened back there?”

Steve goes still, grip going lax on his keys. “I heard what you said, Eddie.”

“About – about what? Are you mad I was talking to them about us sleeping together? Because, Steve, they already knew,” Eddie insists, a little incredulous. “You said you were fine with them knowing! You were practically feeling me up in front of them!”

“I don’t give a shit if they know we’re having sex!” Steve hisses, finally whirling around to look at Eddie. “I meant the rest. About how I’m not the kind of guy you have a relationship with.”

Eddie’s stomach sinks. He hadn’t realized that was such a sensitive subject. “I – shit, I wasn’t trying to hurt your feelings, I just didn’t think you wanted–”

“About how we’re just having fun,” Steve cuts in, and if he’d sounded raw before, his voice is practically ground down to nothing now.

That brings Eddie up short. “…aren’t we?” he asks after a moment.

Steve says nothing.

“I mean, shit, Steve, it’s not like we’re in a relationship,” Eddie says, offering a little laugh, because even Steve would have to admit that the idea is a little silly.

Except.

Except Steve just glances away, staring at the ground beside Eddie’s feet, and – oh, shit.

“Oh, shit.”

Steve is still unnervingly silent, one arm curled around his middle while the other hand comes up to pinch briefly at the bridge of his nose. He still won’t look at Eddie.

“You… you thought we were,” Eddie says dumbly, and Steve shrugs.

“Can you blame me? We spend all our time together, Eddie. I’m here more than I’m at my own house, I think I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve slept in my own bed in the last month. We go out and do things together, I try to keep things nice around the house because I want Wayne to like me, we have, like, a lot of sex, and– we… I mean, we kiss and touch and just – do shit like that even when it doesn’t lead anywhere.” Steve shrugs helplessly, finally looking up. “I mean, Christ, Eddie, what did you think we were doing?”

“I thought we were friends!” Eddie insists. Steve throws him an incredulous look and Eddie amends, “With benefits!”

“Right.” Steve’s expression flattens back out, going cold and hard and unlike anything Eddie’s become used to from him. “Because I’m not the kind of guy you’d want to have a relationship with.”

“I said that because I thought you didn’t want to be in a relationship!” Eddie snaps. “It’s not like you stay with anyone for very long, so I just assumed you didn’t want to be with anyone.”

Some of the ice retreats from Steve’s face, leaving a watering kind of hurt in its stead. “Do you listen to me at all when I talk?”

“What? Of course I do!” Eddie might have gotten turned around in certain respects, but he will not have his merits as a friend called into question; of course he listens to Steve.

“Are you sure? Because I talk about you an awful lot. I talk about doing things with you, about doing things in the future with you,” Steve says pointedly, “about how I want to stay with you.”

And Eddie had wanted Steve to stay with him, too. He’s just been thinking – well, he’d thought it was because they get along so well, that Steve had wanted to stick around. That it had only made sense.

“We never talked about… being anything else,” Eddie says, the protest a little weak even to his own ears. “I’m pretty sure I’d remember that.”

Steve pulls a sharp breath in, pinching at the bridge of his nose again; he leaves his hand there this time, eyes scrunched shut. “Just a few days ago, I told you how much I liked being with you. How good and how easy it felt compared to anyone else I’ve ever been with,” he says, barely more than a rough whisper. “And you said…”

I like being with you, too.

Eddie had said that.

He’d meant that he likes being around Steve, likes being his friend, definitely likes having sex with him, but he’d said it while combing his fingers through Steve’s hair, while cuddled up with him in bed, and – okay, yes, he can see the mixed signals there. He can see where Steve might have gotten the idea that they didn’t have an arrangement, that they were just together.

“I– I didn’t mean–”

“Obviously,” Steve snaps, dropping his hand from his face and turning back towards his car.

Eddie tsks, frustrated, and reaches out to grab Steve’s wrist – not pulling, just trying to keep his attention.

“Don’t,” Steve warns him, pulling back from his grasp for a second time.

“I didn’t mean to lead you on,” Eddie tries desperately. “I really… I really didn’t.”

“Yeah. I can see that. But Eddie…” Steve is quiet for a moment, posture so tense and still that Eddie suspects he’s not even breathing. “I’m probably the best-qualified asshole around to tell you that you really have to fucking think about how what you’re doing affects the people around you.”

Somehow, that stings more than any screamed insult Steve could have thrown at him.

“Steve…”

“I’ll come get my shit out of your place tomorrow,” Steve says, low and sharp, before getting into his car and slamming the door behind him.

After that, Eddie has no choice but to step back or get run over, and he watches until Steve’s taillights are no longer visible.

He can hear the hissing of some whispered conversation just beyond the door as he trudges back up the front steps, but his friends fall conspicuously quiet the moment he steps inside.

“…hey,” Gareth finally ventures after several seconds of awkward, sticky silence.

“Hey,” Eddie says flatly.

“Do you… want us to stay?” Jeff asks.

Slowly, Eddie shakes his head. “I think I should… I need to– think about shit.”

The boys all nod, throwing him variously sympathetic glances and clapping him on the shoulder on their way out. Oliver pauses, as if he’s going to say something, but Gareth gives him a shove and gets him out the door before he has the chance. Probably for the best.

Eddie feels numb as he trudges back towards his room, trying to figure out what the hell had just happened.

He flops down on his bed, face landing in a pillow that smells entirely too much like Steve’s shampoo. Probably because it’s on the side of the bed that Steve always takes. Next to the nightstand with the small stack of sports magazines that definitely aren’t Eddie’s. And the spare pair of glasses that also isn’t Eddie’s.

With a low tug in his gut, Eddie realizes how much of Steve’s stuff has crept into his room, into the trailer, into his life – how much Steve has become a part of his life, how much of Eddie’s day has been built around him, how much he’s come to lean on his presence, has come to want him there.

And Steve is going to take it all back sometime soon. Take all of his things away before he removes himself from Eddie’s life, too, because Eddie hadn’t been thinking and he hadn’t been careful and he hadn’t realized–

Eddie’s pretty sure he just broke up with Steve.

He’s also pretty sure he hadn’t wanted to.

His main consolation, as he curls up on his side, nose still buried in Steve’s pillow, is that as soon as Robin hears what happened (and she will hear, he has no doubt), she’ll probably come murder him.

At least he won’t have to wallow for long.

Part 2

[snowangeldotmp3]

tw; depression

“It’s just—do you ever feel like—what am I saying? You used to be King Steve, of course you don’t know.”

“Rob…”

She screws her eyes shut, and tries again. “Do you ever feel like you don’t belong?”

“What?”

“Like it’s fine most of the time, it doesn’t even really bother you, but there are moments where you realize that you don’t fit like you should and you just—you know it. I can’t explain it. I get it, I wasn’t here for a lot of the shit that went down with all of you but, I don’t see how I fit into the equation anymore.”

What if there’s something about me that drives people away?

She sniffles, silently cursing herself for doing so. “Or it’s like, I know it can’t last forever. I can feel the expiration date creeping up on me. I’m the odd one out, I’ve been here the least amount of time and I don’t even add anything important to the group. You all have something, I’m just the girl who speaks different languages and rambles too much for her own good,” she pauses, taking a deep breath to stop the burning in her lungs. “I don’t wanna lose you guys because you guys are all great and you’re my best friend in the world but it’s—it’s a feeling I can’t shake. Like I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop and this has been one big joke or—do you remember last summer? What I said right before we got truth serumed?”

She wouldn’t blame him if he didn’t remember, getting drugged and then the…everything else after that, but she can see his brows thread together, trying to sift through his own memories of last summer—tied together in chairs thinking they were both going to die in that stupid, stupid mall. He shakes his head. The familiar numbness takes over Robin; a detachment. Hollow. She plays with her rings.

“My whole life feels like one big error,” she repeats, in the same intonation as she had that night. She laughs, wryly, ignoring the burn of tears behind her eyes. Steve’s face drops, eyes softening. Robin can’t look at him.

“Rob,” he says, placing his hands over hers. His voice is wet when he speaks. “You aren’t an error, Robin.”

“It just feels like—”

“No, Robin,” Steve says firmly. “You’re right, I don’t really know how you feel. I don’t know what that’s like. But I know that you aren’t an error. You aren’t the odd one out."

[smolsaltypan]

Elder Steve Harrington in a nursing home, who has increasingly been talking about a man named Eddie. He's never brought this mysterious man up before but the way their grandpa's eyes light up when this person comes up, well, they don't have the heart to tell pappy that they don't think Eddie is a real person. Only, they get their hands on an old box of photos. Scattered about in there are Gruncle Dustin and the ragtag gang of kids Steve adopted. And then. This scrawny kid with a buzz cut, labeled 7th year. Steve's grandkids watch this secret relationship progress, until suddenly they come across a ripped out journal page stuffed in the chest pocket of a grimy denim vest that almost gets thrown out immediately on principle if Little Stevie wasn't into vintage punk and determined to salvage it. The page has got grease stains and smudged ink writing just like pappy's, peppered with far more subtle blotted stains. They learn why soon enough. Grandpa loved this boy, when they were boys, but there had to be a reason this man suddenly disappeared, and why it looked like Pappy spent years crying over this short little love note.