#dustin is a shithead

[fandoms-in-law]

Muddy Letters - The Conclusion

Authors Note: I have 2 possible summaries for this fic and neither really work for posting it all in one story. Instead both the summary I want to use and the story is in 3 parts: The Re-Beginning, The Beginnging, The Conclusion (you are here)

Contrary to normal expectations, I suggest reading the Re-beginning first.

Summary: It started with a car theft and an apology note. It ended with a fathers anger and discovery. It began again with Dustin helping Steve pack up his room.

Now it ends with an interesting way to prevent Dustin snooping anymore.

/\/\

Dustin was not expecting, nor was he happy to find out, that helping Steve move into his new home was, for him at least, less moving and unpacking boxes and more being given a shovel, taking to the garden and told to dig.

“How is this helping anything? What am I digging anyway? Flowerbeds?” He demanded, trying to give the shovel back and head toward the house.

“It’s helping me fill a decades old promise and helping you avoid snooping and invading my privacy again.” Steve replied, a bitchy smirk on on his face. “Besides, you should be thrilled. You get to dig the start of the Hobbit Hole. You love those books, right?”

He threw the shovel down, “What promise? How do you know about Smiles? You refuse to read them! It can’t be a hobbit hole. There’s no hill to dig into.”

“Make good progress and I might answer some of those questions. If he other shitheads snoop they’ll help you out here, okay?” Steve called, heading back to his new house, but a sharp glance over his shoulder confirmed Dusting wouldn’t be allowed back in unless the weather drastically changed.

~

“Here’s the kids,” Nancy called, “I’m staying too to ensure some unpacking actually gets done.”

Steve hurried out of the house, grinning at the group that had arrived, “We need Eddie and Robin to get the van here to start on that. Come in so I can show you around.”

“Dustin is excited to help you. Where is he?” El asked, looking around, trying to spot him.

“Oh he’s already helping. Insisted I pick him up absurdly early to help, so I gave him a project to work on.” He explained. “After the tour, I’ll show you his project and all you brats can decide how you want to help.”

Mike predictably glared, “We aren’t brats.”

“Says the brattiest of the group.” Steve bitched back, “Come on.”

~

“This doesn’t look like digging, Henderson,” Steve called, leading the group over to him. “Are you planning how to snoop again?”

“Tunnels need supports and structure, Steve.” Dustin countered, tone implying insults he didn’t say. “If you want a hobbit hole it needs planning, not just ‘Start digging and figure it out as you go’.”

Steve laughed, shaking his head. “As if you’ll get far enough to need that today. And it has been planned, a long time ago so I’ve been told. The area marked off needs digging down into first.”

“By who? And why is he digging?” Mike demanded, coming to stand beside Steve.

“A friend and partly because he tried looking at private things when helping me pack, partly because he insisted on helping before any of my stuff is here to be unpacked.” Steve easily explained. “And if you keep that attitude, you can grab a shovel and help him too.”

Lucas looked over the area for a moment before asking, “Can we see the plans or are they private too?”

Steve shrugged, “They aren’t here and I’m not having you brats trying to be project managers. Now,” He clapped, “Who’s helping Dustin and who’s in the house?”

~

Eddie and Robin were clearly unloading boxes for a while before knocking on the door. There were boxes stacked into a wall in front of it with only space for an arm to stick through as it currently was doing.

“Thank you, Thing.” Steve laughed when it waved. “Guessing you got here while I had everyone in the garden.” He leant closer as the arm withdrew, to peer through at Eddie’s equally amused face.

“About ten minutes ago, I’d say. You tell me how the timings match up. Are you dismantling my wall now?” Eddie crooned, smiling when the boxes were soon taken from the top and Steve’s spot peering through was taken by Mike glaring suspiciously.

“Do you know how Steve knows about hobbits?” He asked, as if Steve merely knowing of them was wrong.

He laughed, “Easy, I told him about them. We decided you kids are dwarves and he’s Bilbo.”

“Hey!”

“There are too many of you to be hobbits but only one Steve.”

~

Everything had been given a place and Steve was hopeful they’d have a quiet evening from how worn out they all were, between moving, unpacking and digging a decent trench in his garden. He could feel those hopes flounder when Dustin came through, now in clean clothes and with a determined gleam in his eyes.

“You’ve only known Eddie since Spring Break. How could building a hobbit hole be a decades old promise when he claims to be the one to tell you about hobbits?” He rattled off, trying to figure out his mystery as he spoke.

“We were penpals once. Lost touch and didn’t immediately know each other in the reunion.” Eddie said, swatting the questions from the air.

Dustin’s glare turned on him, “That makes no sense! The only penpal schemes are to other countries or states. And why would Steve promise a hobbit hole to a penpal he couldn’t meet?”

“We met too. Eddie didn’t say it was just letters.” Steve rolled his eyes, crossing his arms to show how done with the conversation he felt. “Can we watch the film now?”

“I want answers to all these secrets.” Dustin insisted, a whine in his voice as he sat deliberately in front of the TV to block everyone’s views of it.

Eddie and Steve exchanged a look and sighs before Eddie jumped up, “Fine. I’ll tell you the tale of how I became the man I am today and how Uncle Wayne is ever a vital clue to know if I was in your past.”

“And how he forgets where places are in a month of not visiting them.” Steve added, smirking.

“Hush!” The rebuttal was easily given, “Now I was just a young thing-”

Steve listened to Eddie’s recounting of their childhood friendship with a smile: They could keep some promises to each other now.

[my-hyperfixations-hell-blog]

Steve and Dustin's dynamic is literally just: This is the shithead I picked up off the side of the road, I'd die for him.

[wheneverfeasible]

Steve’s used to not being loved.

He’d known his parents didn’t love him since he was a young child. He’d known that the girls he casually took on dates and occasionally fucked didn’t love him. He’d known Tommy and Carol didn’t love him like friends were supposed to. They all loved his reputation, sure, but not him. It was easy though because he didn’t love them either.

He’d loved his parents once, a long time ago. Back before they were practically strangers, but that love had been the obligation of biology. He’d thought he loved Tommy and Carol, but it had all been too surface level and focused on popularity.

He had loved Nancy though. He finally found someone he could start to be his true self with and he loved her and he thought she loved him, only…only she didn’t.

He couldn’t blame her. After a while, when the same thing keeps happening, you kind of have to look for the common factor in all those loveless relationships and see what the real issue was. Simply put…

Steve was just unloveable.

Maybe it was his past. Not that he’d actually been a bully or anything, he’d actually shut down a lot of bullying even among his then-friends and teammates, but he had been kind of self-absorbed. Or maybe it was just the fact that he wasn’t as smart as the people he found himself surrounded by. Maybe it was just the fact that he wasn’t anything special, not at the end of the day.

Except he could take a punch.

And slowly, he found people that did love him. The other kids might tolerate him, might like him, but Dustin genuinely loved him, he knew that. Dustin was his original ride-or-die. Dustin might be a little shithead that constantly treated Steve like he was stupid, but he was like his brother. And Dustin also make him feel amazing and wanted and loved.

And then there was Robin. Most amazing of all really was that Robin loved him. His Platonic soulmate. His other ride-or-die. She saw him at his lowest and saw him at his highest, was there for him when he had stuff he didn’t want to drop on a teen boy who should be worrying about pimples and bad hair days, not interdimensional monsters and evil wizards. Robin made him feel loved too, even if she also sometimes teased him a little too sharply.

There was also Max of course. He’d been surprised at receiving a letter from her too, back when Vecna had been after her. He’d read it, back when she’d been in her coma. She hadn’t said she loved him, but it was there in other ways. The big brother she should have had all along.

So yeah, okay, Steve was loved. But it was platonic. It was friends, his new kind of family even, but it wasn’t the love he’d always wanted and never had. He just accepted the fact that people didn’t love him that way.

Which was why, when he realized he was in love with Eddie, he just sighed and accepted it and never changed anything in the way he interacted with the other man. He didn’t bother telling Eddie because he knew there was no point. Besides, Robin called him out on it, said he was being so obvious about his feelings, but Eddie never said anything too.

So okay. Steve was in love with Eddie, but Eddie wasn’t in love with Steve. Eddie also didn’t treat Steve any differently despite knowing that Steve loved him. After all, if Steve was so obvious about it, then Eddie had to know too already, right?

So Steve watched Eddie come out to them, had nodded along when Eddie nervously explained what bisexuality was, having already had his own crisis before though he realized he’d never officially come out either. But then if his feelings for Eddie were so obvious, he figured he didn’t have to, so he didn’t say anything and let Eddie have his moment.

And it didn’t matter that Eddie liked guys. He still couldn’t love Steve, so Steve just accepted it and let it be. He didn’t flinch when Eddie mentioned meeting a guy in the city, was even downright friendly when Eddie eventually brought the guy around to meet everyone.

It hurt, of course, but Steve’s feelings were his own problem; he wasn’t going to let the fact that he was in love with one of his best friends make things awkward. Eddie was nice enough that he never told Steve to knock it off when Steve got a little too touchy with him, though Steve backed off in his own when Eddie seemed a little panicked about it sometimes.

Steve was even there for Eddie when Eddie came over crying because he and guy broke up. He wouldn’t tell Steve why they broke up, not entirely, but eventually Steve learned it was because Eddie had feelings for someone else this entire time.

Steve wondered who it was, but in any case he just hoped Eddie got to be happy with them eventually. He later told Eddie one day when Eddie was over that he was a great guy, obviously, and anyone Eddie liked would be a lucky person. He hoped he didn’t sound judgmental about it, didn’t want Eddie to think he was being petty or whatever, but Eddie just looked sad again and left soon after.

Steve knew he had a problem about being too much sometimes. It had pushed Nancy away, and every girl he’d tried to date afterwards never really liked him enough either. It was still just his reputation and his hair that got him dates, not who he was himself. That was fine. Temporary companionship was better than nothing he supposed.

And life continued, and Steve kept loving Eddie, and he was content that Eddie let him love him, even if there was no hope of it being reciprocated.

And then Steve went on a date with a guy.

It was…okay. The guy was a lot handsier than Steve would like, and kind of boring when compared to Eddie, but Steve just shrugged and figured that at least it’s be someone else’s hand this time. And it was okay. No great spark or anything. More of a glorified one night stand than anything, but it was fine.

He knew he needed to get out dating again. Girls and guys. His love for Eddie wasn’t abating at all, so he couldn’t bring himself to actually date anyone, but he could do hookups.

Which was how Eddie found him one day, mouth around some guy at a bar in Indy because they had forgotten to lock the bathroom door. Oops. It was a little annoying though that Eddie looked as upset as he did. He appreciated the fact that Eddie didn’t call him out for his unwanted feelings, but it wasn’t fair that he thought Steve shouldn’t be able to move on.

They got into a fight.

They never exactly said what they were fighting about with words, but Eddie yelled at him for having unsafe sex, while Steve yelled at him for being a hypocrite, and then Eddie yelled at him for leading the guy on, and Steve said that that was a bit rich coming from him.

And Eddie was yelling and yelling and yelling about who knows what, telling Steve he shouldn’t be having random hookups in bathrooms when he wasn’t even gay, and Steve yelled that bisexual men can have bathroom hookups too, and that seemed to surprise Eddie for some reason.

In any case, it caused him to shut up for long enough for Steve to angrily tell him that just because Steve loved him, it didn’t give him the right to tell Steve what he could or could not do, especially when he knew Eddie didn’t love him back.

And then…

“You…you love me?” Eddie choked out, his eyes wide as he stared across the dark alley outside the bar, where he’d dragged Steve after catching him on his knees.

Steve rolled his eyes, jutting out one hip to place a hand on while the other hand ran aggressively through his hair. It was started to rain while they were in the bar, a light drizzle that was slowly weighing down their hair, not that either of them paid it any mind.

“Jesus, Munson, are you really going to make me listen to the whole spiel again?” He rolled his eyes, throwing his hands up in frustration. “This is bullshit, I’m bullshit, my love is bullshit, yadda yadda yadda. Or are we going the other way? The sad puppy eyes and the fact that you like someone else and it could never be me? I already know all this, Munson.”

Eddie continued gaping at Steve like a fish. It was starting to make him vaguely uncomfortable. Eddie shook his head, long strands of hair whipping wetly around him. “H-how long have you loved me?” Eddie whispered.

Steve’s frown deepened. “I don’t know, man. You probably clocked it before I even did. I just barely realized like a year and half ago.”

Eddie’s eyes bugged further. “You’ve love me for a year and a half?” he asked incredulously, making Steve’s frown turn from annoyance to confusion.

“You already knew this, Eddie.”

“I most certainly did not!”

And…oh. Oof. Okay. Steve grimaced and held his hands up suddenly in a surrender sort of way. “Yikes. Okay, well, this doesn’t have to change anythi—”

“This changes everything!” Eddie exclaimed in what others might cause a shriek.

Steve winced, taking a step back and hitching his shoulders up to his ears. “Eddie…Eddie, please, c’mon,” he tried to reason, feeling dread settling in the pit of his stomach. He was suddenly remembering all the times he’d invaded Eddie’s space, how many times he’d flirted back with Eddie’s fake flirting, thinking it was okay because the other man knew how he felt.

Fuck. Fuck, he’d fucked up again.

“Eddie, I know you don’t love me, okay,” he rushed to say. “I know you can never love me. I get it, okay? I’m not trying to force you to feel any way or anything. Just like with Robin and Nancy, the fact that I like you doesn’t have to change anything.”

“Not…Steve,” Eddie said, reaching up to grip and pull at his own hair as an incredulous laugh escaped him. “Steve, I fucking love you.”

Steve tried not to let that hurt. He knew Eddie probably didn’t get how much him saying that pained Steve since it wasn’t the kind of love he was talking about, so he wasn’t going to get upset at him over that.

“I know,” he sighed, slowly letting himself relax his body posture. “I know you love me in a friend way. And that’s enough for me, really! I love you like a friend too, so the fact that I also—”

“No Steve,” Eddie cut in again, and while he seemed exasperated, a wide smile was also starting to curl over his lips. “Robin was right and you really are a dingus. I mean, yes, I love you as a friend, but I’m also in love with you. Romantic styles.”

“I…” Steve blinked. He tried to understand Eddie’s words but they didn’t make sense. “What?”

Eddie snorted out a laugh, and the smile curled on his lips stretched out into a grin. He took a step closer. “I’m in love with you, Steve Harrington. I have been since…hell, probably since you went all Ozzy on me. But definitely since I woke up in the hospital to you holding my hand.”

Steve’s stomach swooped. “I don’t understand,” he said, and even to his own ears there was a small whine there. “You don’t…people don’t love me,” he pointed out. “They can’t. There’s something about me that just makes it impossible.”

Eddie scoffed, reaching out once he was closer enough to curl his fingers in the sleeves at Steve’s biceps. They were both now well and truly wet from the rain, but neither of them paid any attention to it at all.

“Now that’s bullshit, Harrington. You’re so fucking easy to love. As a friend and as something…more. I love you, Steve.”

Steve wanted to deny it again, wanted to say that that was impossible, because…because he’d never heard those words. Sure, Dustin and Robin told him they loved him, but romantically? Even Nancy had never told him that in those words. Not even in a lie. He couldn’t fully comprehend that he was hearing them now.

“Fuck, Steve,” Eddie breathed, his hands moving to cup Steve’s jaw. “I’m going to spend the rest of my life telling you that. You’re stuck with me now, big boy.”

And then Eddie kissed him.

Eddie was true to his words. He told Steve he loved him every single day, told him with his words and his actions and when it was legal, he told him again in front of all their friends and found family when he made a vow as a his husband.

And Steve? Well, it took a while for him for actually believe it, but nowadays? When Eddie kisses him good morning every day in bed, whispering his devotion, and every night doing the same, telling Steve he’ll see him in his dreams? Well…

Steve’s used to being loved. And he spends every day loving in return.

~

Hi hello I have no idea what this is but I just started typing and then I didn’t stop until this was completed lol

Hostage hotties: @derythcorvinus @katyawriteswhump

[steddie-as-they-come]

Steve's pinning his polaroids up on his wall when his new roommate walks in.

Steve's immediate thought is oh, I'm gonna hate this guy.

Shaggy hair, leather jacket, rings glinting off his fingers, electric guitar slung over his back. Hot as hell, but compared to Steve's polos and perfectly coiffed hair, they could not be more different.

The guy looks like he had the same thought. His shoulders slump as he takes in Steve's appearance.

A man comes in behind his roommate, toting a suitcase full of clothes. "Oh, are you Eddie's roommate?" he says to Steve, who shakes himself out of his thoughts.

"Yes, I am." he says politely. "I'm Steve Harrington."

The man sets down the suitcase. "Wayne Munson." he offers, shaking Steve's hand. "I'm Eddie's uncle."

He nudges Eddie forward, who lets out an almost inaudible groan. "Eddie." he says snippily, shaking Steve's hand.

This'll be a fun year, Steve thinks.

They don't talk. Steve didn't think he was going to be best friends with whoever he got saddled with, but he thought they could at least be civil to each other. Their room is split down the middle. Eddie's half is absolutely covered in posters and music and cutouts of magazines. Steve's is...almost as blank as his room back home.

He misses the shitheads.

No one can ever tell them that. They'll get even more insufferable.

Once or twice, when Steve comes back from a class, he'll catch Eddie peering at Steve's pictures, but he’ll jump away before Steve can call him out on it. It's awful. Steve misses Robin.

It takes him a horribly long amount of time to stop flinching awake at every little sound. He'd stored his nailbat under his bed, out of sight of Eddie, but every time someone yells in the hallway or shouts in the room next door, Steve startles awake, already grabbing his bat. Luckily, Eddie sleeps like the dead, because Steve's not sure he'd be able to explain the weapon without breaking his NDA.

It's three A.M., early November, when there's a knock on their door. Steve isn't asleep yet, so he stands and answers it.

Eight people pile in, talking in hushed whispers. They slam into him, knocking him over.

In the middle of the hug, Steve counts his kids. It's Dustin, nestled against his side, then Lucas, El, and Will under his arm, Max draped over his back, Erica leaning into his shoulder, and Mike on the very outskirts of the group. He pulls them all in tighter, and they all yelp and squawk at him.

"Let us go, Steve!" Erica says, annoyed.

"Nope." Steve says. "You came to find me at three in the morning, you can tolerate a hug."

"Shoo, move." another voice says, and all the kids part like the sea. Robin pushes her way through the group and hugs him tightly. "I don't know how you do it." she says to Steve. "Driving all these nerds around, it's exhausting."

He buries his face in her hair. "Missed you, Robbie." he mumbles.

She leans her head against his. "Missed you too, dingus."

Steve pulls back. "You got your license!"

"I did!" Robin jingles her keys happily.

Eddie sits up, and everyone in the room freezes. "Wha's happenin'?" he slurs sleepily. Then he registers all the people in the room. "Whoa, what the fuck?"

Steve stands up, brushing himself off. "I'm sorry, man, I didn't know they were coming." He shoots a glare at the group, who looks appropriately cowed. Minus Dustin. Steve can now see whose idea this was.

Eddie swings out of bed. "No, it's- wait, are these the kids from your polaroids?"

"Yeah," Steve says. "Dustin, Mike, Lucas, Will, El, Max, Erica, and this is my best friend Robin."

"Awww, you have polaroids of us?" Max teases over his shoulder. "That's sweet."

Steve reaches behind him and tussles her hair, shoving her gently. "Shut up, shithead."

"Your room is cool." Mike says. "Not Steve's side. But this part is cool!"

Steve glares at Mike, but Eddie grins big. "Thanks! I'm Eddie Munson." He shakes Mike's hand.

"Is that a DnD poster?" Will says. "That's amazing!"

"It certainly is!" Eddie says. "I used to DM back in high school. Played a bit too."

The nerdier section of the group reacts appropriately, oohing and ahhing, while Max and Erica just roll their eyes and nudge each other.

Steve hesitates. “I know these guys don’t really do anything on Saturday afternoons, and I think they’ve been wanting to start another campaign. Would you mind if they come up, maybe every weekend, and you can…” he doesn’t know enough about DnD “…run a game for them?”

Eddie looks amused. “You mean DM a campaign?”

“Yeah, that.” It’s an olive branch that Steve’s offering.

Eddie takes it. “Well, how can I turn that down? Sheepies of the Harrington flock, how would you like to join a new campaign?”

“I’ll keep the rest of you occupied,” Steve mutters as the guys (and El) start talking excitedly. “Max, Rob, you guys wanna find the closest arcade and set some new high scores?”

“Only one person will be setting high scores.” Max says, gesturing to herself, but she looks excited at the prospect.

Steve lets Eddie and the kids talk for a couple more minutes, then claps his hands. “Okay, it is three in the morning and I have a nine A.M. class tomorrow SO! I have enough blankets for all of you to sleep on the floor if Eddie doesn’t mind-“ Eddie shrugs. “Or Rob can drive you back home.”

Steve looks around and Robin is already in his bed, cuddled up like the blanket hog she is. “Okay, well, sleepover here it is then.”

He whisks out his ungodly amount of throw blankets (courtesy of Joyce’s knitting spree) and the kids get together in their usual movie-night-at-Steve’s cuddle position.

Will’s got his head on Mike’s shoulder, Lucas next to Mike, Max leaning on Lucas, El’s head in Max’s lap and her legs thrown over Dustin’s lap, and Erica with her back against Dustin’s shoulder. Sometimes Robin and Steve are wedged into the pile somewhere, but just as often they’re tangled up under six different blankets across the room, which is why Steve whispers “Scoot over, dumbass,” as he climbs into bed next to Robin.

Eddie watches them assume their positions with an expression of what could be awe on his face. “When I saw those pictures,” he whispered, “I thought they were like your siblings? Or maybe old pictures of your friends. I didn’t think you were a soccer mom.”

Steve glares at him, but unlike earlier in the year, there’s no heat behind it. “Hope you like coparenting then, because these guys need to be watched 24/7 or they’ll run off and start the apocalypse.”

Eddie laughs like it’s a joke. To him it is. He hops back into bed. “Goodnight, weird little family.”

The kids murmur a collective sleepy goodnight, and Steve shuts his eyes.

It’s the most relaxed he’s felt since he moved in.

part two!

[riality-check]

The eagerly awaited part 2 of the DILF!Steve concert saga is here!! Part 1, in case you missed it.

"You're not going."

"Come on! I haven't thrown up in an hour!"

"The drive to the venue is an hour and a half."

"Steve-"

"And if you throw up in my car-"

"Oh my God-"

"I'll kill you."

Steve doesn't need to see Dustin's eye roll in order to feel the full force of it through the phone.

"I'll just kill you. You'll have a headstone within the week that says Here Lies Dustin Henderson: Rightfully Murdered for Puking in Steve Harrington's Car," he continues as he packs Capri-Suns into the cooler for the car ride.

He doesn't remember ever being that thirsty as a kid, but if Anna wants strawberry kiwi, Anna gets strawberry kiwi. It helps that it's Steve's favorite flavor, too.

"I'd need a big ass headstone to fit all of that," Dustin snaps.

"Your big-ass ego would demand no less, shithead," Steve shoots back.

"Swear jar, Daddy!" Anna calls from her room, across the house because while she doesn't listen to Steve when he's right in front of her, she can hear him break the swear jar rule from halfway across the world.

He zips up the cooler, fishes a quarter out of his pocket, and throws it into the half-full soup can next to the stove.

(A quarter doesn't mean much, but Anna doesn't know that. The day Steve teaches that kid about inflation is the day his pockets become permanently empty.)

"Did she just swear jar you?" Dustin asks from over the phone.

"You baited me into it."

"I did no such thing."

Steve rolls his eyes. "You're not coming, though, are you?"

Dustin sighs, and, for all his teasing, Steve does genuinely feel bad. "I still feel like if I breathe wrong, I'll hurl, so, no. I don't think I'll manage the car ride, nevermind the actual show."

"Sorry dude."

"Don't be. Some dickhead will live stream the whole thing on Instagram, anyway. I'll live vicariously through them."

Steve snorts and picks up the cooler. He got Anna dressed beforehand, so it's just a matter of getting her to stop playing with whatever toy she dug up - Play-Doh has been the fixation of the week - in her room so they can go.

"Besides," Dustin continues, and Steve hates where this is going. "Anna loved the show, and you've got a reason-"

"Nope," Steve says, knocking on Anna's door. "Don't finish that sentence."

"All I'm saying-"

"I know what you're gong to say, which means you know my answer. I don't date."

Anna opens her door. From the little Steve can see inside, there are at least three containers of Play-Doh open and strewn across the floor. He thinks her Barbies are involved in it somehow.

"Time to go," Steve says, and he thinks, Please don't let there be Play-Doh in the Barbie hair.

"Five more minutes," Anna tries.

"Nope. Clean up and roll out."

"Hi, Anna," Dustin says through the phone.

"Uncle Dusty!" Anna shrieks, and she starts jumping up and down. "Are you comin', too?"

Dustin sighs, and Steve can't tell if it's at the nickname or if he's still cursing the universe. "No, but you and your dad have a great time, okay?"

"Can you, can you tell Daddy I should get five more minutes?"

Steve raises his eyebrows at her. Anna, to her credit, ignores him wonderfully.

"If you clean up," Dustin says, because he's actually Steve's favorite person right now, "you get to do more headbanging at the concert."

Anna gasps like Steve didn't already tell her that earlier today, and she gets to work on putting her toys away. Steve helps, of course, and he finds that there is, in fact, Play-Doh in two of her Barbies' hair.

Fun. They're going to turn into Buzzcut Barbies when Anna goes to sleep because he can already tell that they are the furthest thing from salvageable.

But that doesn't matter right now. What matters is getting Anna in the car, deploying the first two of many strawberry kiwi Capri Suns from the cooler, and making the drive to the venue, which Steve does with minimal road rage and accompanied by the Disney radio station.

Success by all metrics, really.

Dinner might as well be now, so Steve shells out a truly disgusting amount of money for overpriced chicken nuggets and fries at the venue. Anna will only eat half her portion but say she's hungry later, but that's what the snacks and water Steve smuggled in via his jacket are for.

They get to their seats, dinner finished up, just as the lights go down for the first opener. Steve looks to his left, half-expecting Eddie and his friends to be there before remembering that they won't be.

He tries not to feel too disappointed. He fails miserably.

The seat next to him, however, isn't empty. There's a note taped to the back of it, one addressed to Steve and Miss Anna, so Steve feels alright taking and opening it.

At the top, there's a messily scrawled phone number. Underneath, it says:

Here's my number. Probably a bad idea to call with all the noise. Texting works, though you should do that after the show. I'll be a little busy until then.

-Eddie

Steve puts the note in his pocket, puts Anna's ear defenders on, puts his own earplugs in, and looks at the stage, where-

Hang on.

He squints at the stage, where four guys have started playing a song that, frankly, sounds too much like literally all the music Steve listened to yesterday for him to care about all that much. The drummer is pretty small, with wild, curly hair. The bassist looks familiar. The lead singer, who is very talented but not to Steve's personal taste, also looks familiar. And the guitarist-

No way. No way in hell.

It's a total coincidence. Lots of guys have long, curly hair and heavy jewelry and big eyes and are wearing formal wear, for some reason, and catch Steve's eye, and-

"Thank you for such a great welcome!" the guitarist says, and his smile totally isn't doing anything to Steve, thanks very much.

Anna stops moving, where she's standing next to Steve, and climbs up into his lap to get a better look at the stage. She looks out, then back at Steve, then out, then back at Steve, making a face as confused as Steve feels.

Some days, he thinks he ended up with a clone, not a kid.

"I'll get off the mic in a second. I only do the talking because Jeff," the guitarist points at the lead singer, who ducks his head, "is really shy."

Jeff. That name is definitely relevant, but Steve is a permanent resident of denial.

"We fought about what song we were going to include next in our set list, so much so that we didn't decide until yesterday and had to consult a tiebreaker."

Okay, maybe Steve is a less permanent resident of denial than he thought.

"So, thank you to Miss Anna, who did great at headbanging for her first time-"

Anna whips around so fast, her forehead nearly collides with Steve's jaw.

"And to Steve, who's a big fan of American Psycho."

At the song name, the crowd loses their minds, and if Anna wasn't sitting right in front of him, Steve would join them.

Because what the fuck is happening right now?

His question isn't answered. In fact, about five more questions pop up in its stead when, during the bridge of the song, Jeff puts on a clear rain jacket and picks up a prop axe.

Please, God, don't let this traumatize my kid, Steve thinks.

Anna, thankfully, doesn't get scared. When Jeff brings the axe down, again and again, Steve's weirdo daughter fucking smiles. And giggles. It's kind of cute, actually.

When the song ends, she turns back to Steve.

"That's Eddie onstage," Steve says, and saying it, somehow, makes it real.

"I thought so!" Anna says, and she turns back to watch the show. Steve puts an arm around her waist so she doesn't fall off his lap when she bangs her head to the music.

The rest of the songs, in Steve's opinion, are better than the opening song. They're more melodic, which Steve can definitely get behind, and each of them has a gimmick onstage, all based off of various horror movies. It's ridiculous, but also really, really cool.

And Eddie, onstage, because it is the same guy who flirted with him and was so sweet to Anna yesterday, is really, really hot.

Steve has never had a thing for guitarists before. He's never had a thing for musicians before. Hell, until a year ago, he didn't realize he had a thing for men.

Eddie is. Uh. Yeah. Really doing it for him.

Steve doesn't know whether it's his enthusiasm, or the way he moves, or seeing his hair tied up, or the fucking dress pants and suspenders, or just his hands, but he does know he has to get himself in check because this is an all ages show and he's here with his daughter.

He already knows he can't add these songs to his grading playlist, not when they're accompanied by visuals of Eddie playing his guitar.

Sweet Jesus.

"Alright, that's our set!" Eddie says. "Thanks, y'all, for sticking around for us, and let's give it up for the next act!"

The crowd, including Anna and Steve, cheer as they exit and the lights go up.

Steve fishes his phone out of his pocket, fully intending to add Eddie's number to his contacts, and is greeted by not one, not two, but sixteen missed calls from Dustin Henderson.

Naturally, Steve calls him back. "Who died?"

"What the fuck?" Dustin yells, and Steve just puts the phone on speaker to save the rest of his hearing. "Did Eddie fucking Munson just personally thank you from the stage?"

"Swear jar, Uncle Dusty!" Anna says.

"Sorry," Dustin says. "But Steve. Answers. Now."

"How do you even-"

"Instagram live. Is Eddie the guy you were telling me about yesterday?"

Steve takes his phone off speaker. Prior experience tells him that this conversation has a less than zero chance of staying PG, nevermind PG-13.

"Yeah," Steve says. "He is."

"The one who flirted with you, and you forgot to ask for his number."

"Well, I have it now."

"What?" Dustin shrieks, and Steve is incredibly thankful that he didn't take his earplugs out.

"He left me his number on the seat."

"Text him."

"I was going to, until I saw that you called me sixteen times."

"Jesus Christ, Eddie Munson was flirting with you."

Steve rolls his eyes and hands a pack of gummy bears to Anna when she taps his arm. "He could have just been nice. I don't even know if he's into guys."

"Have you looked at him?"

"Wow, Dustybuns, I didn't know you were homophobic."

"I think it's the complete opposite of homophobic to try to get you laid."

"Hanging up!" Steve shouts because a part of him will never see Dustin as any older than thirteen, and no thirteen year old should ever say that.

"Text-"

Steve hangs up the call. "Can I have a gummy bear?"

"No," Anna says, mouth full, in her seat, legs swinging.

"I bought them."

She shrugs. "You gave them to me. Mine now."

Steve stares. She stares right back.

He sighs and opens a new pack of gummy bears.

With his mouth full of sweet Haribo corpses, Steve takes out the note and adds Eddie to his contacts. Before he can overthink it, he sends him a message:

I guess I don't have to ask you what you do for a living. Just so we're even on that front, I'm a teacher, and Anna's full time job is preschool.

He tucks his phone back into his pocket and focuses on making this a good experience for Anna, who somehow wormed her way into a conversation with the intimidating-looking couple sitting next to her.

Because it's totally not like a literal rockstar is going to text him back. Right?

Part 3!!

[stevieschrodinger]

Part One Two Three

“Ow, not so hard man.” Eddie seems to be absolutely fascinated with Steve’s leg hair. Which, okay, Steve kind of understands, Eddie has neither legs nor leg hair, so he gets why it would be weird. He kind of wishes Eddie wouldn’t tug quite so hard though.

Eddie’s just demolished a big bowl of green things, and Steve’s sitting on the edge, legs dangling in the water where Eddie’s hovering, touching Steve’s skin with his slightly warmer than pool water temperature fingers. He’s scratching a little too, but it’s only a tiny bit, very gently, so Steve doesn’t mind. Eddie clearly doesn’t intend to harm him, and seems more fascinated with the thin white lines he’s leaving on Steve’s tanned skin.

Eddie gives a particularly vicious tug, Steve jerks, “Ow! Fuck. No, no more. Finished.” He sits up, pulling his legs clear of the water, waving Eddie away.

“Inied?”

“Yeah, finished. Ow. It hurts. You hurt me.”

Eddie tilts his head, swimming closer, “Steeee. Ow.”

Steve sighs, “Yes, ow. I’ll be back later.”

“I’m sure. Steve is the only one who feeds him, right?”

Steve and Robin both nod.

“Right, so, from his point of view, if he interpreted that as Robin trying to like, harm Steve, then his food supply would be jeopardized. He's just, resource guarding or whatever.”

“So...no play fighting within Eddie flopping distance?”

Dustin nods, “pretty much yeah, anything that could be interpreted as risk to Steve, I guess. Or, when Robin is here, she takes Eddie his food. Or anyone really, anytime anyone else is here. That way Eddie will start to see Steve isn’t his only resource.”

“Okay, yeah, that’s probably a good idea anyway,” Steve easily agrees, the now bare patches on his shins are still kind of stinging.

Robin returns with her bowl still full of veg, “he just won’t touch it. There’s still peas floating in the pool from last time.”

Steve sighs, “I really don’t know why he’s being like this.”

“Maybe he’s just pissed at me,” she shoves the bowl at Dustin, “you try.”

They all watch through the window as Dustin heads to the pool. They can tell from how he’s standing that Eddie’s at the end furthest away. Dustin kneels, tries offering things. It’s not long before he quits and comes back.

“How long did it take before he would eat? Maybe we just need to persevere?”

Robin disagrees, “once we figured what he would eat, it was pretty much straight away he was taking stuff from Steve.”

“Okay, so maybe it’s like, a trust thing, so if we stick this out long enough, eventually he will get hungry enough to give in, right?”

“We’re not doing that,” it just immediately strikes Steve as cruel, “he’s not put on enough weight yet for us to be fucking with his food supply.”

“Okay...okay yeah.”

Steve blinks awake. He’s not sure what woke him, but he’s almost certain he just heard something. He lies still straining to listen and yeah, he definitely heard something. Something or someone moving around downstairs. Steve quietly shifts, groping for the nail bat leaning against the wall as he slides out of bed, his heart feels like it's crawling up into his throat. He almost hopes it's a regular old burglary and not, like, monsters.

He creeps downstairs, luckily he was already sleeping in a tank top and shorts. He’s nearly to the bottom of the stairs when he hears it; a clunking noise and then, “Steee.”

He carefully puts the bat down immediately; figures Eddie got into the house somehow. Steve allows himself a moment to calm down, breathe deep and slow for a minute even as, in his head, he's calling Dustin a little shithead and blaming him for leaving the back door unlocked.

At the bottom of the stairs he can peer around the corner to see Eddie sitting in the hall. It’s light enough for Steve to make out that Eddie’s sitting quite tall, his tail curled into an ‘s’ shape underneath him. He has the phone from the hall side table held carefully next to his head, exactly like...well...like a regular person on the phone would, and while Steve is there, he says, “Steee,” uncertainly into the receiver.

For a moment, Steve is tempted to sneak up to the phone in his parents room and lift the receiver so he can answer Eddie, but quickly dismisses it; Eddie’s limited vocabulary makes it kind of pointless, anyway.

“Hey Eddie,” Steve steps off the bottom step.

“Stee!” Eddie turns to Steve, it's almost strange to see him without his sunglasses on now, and his eyes reflect what little light there is in a strange, silvery flash. He seems to remember then that he's holding something, forgotten for a second with the clear excitement of finding Steve, and he replaces the receiver on the cradle with surprising care; Steve wonders vaguely if he was just listening to the dial tone.

Eddie moves through the house, walking on his hands and using a unexpectedly efficient twist of his tail to push him along; he’s much more comfortable on land than Steve would have given him credit for. He stops and looks back, clearly waiting for Steve to follow him. Steve does. Dutifully following Eddie through the house, and it’s not until Steve’s at the door that he realizes it's not Dustin's fault at all – the spare key is in the lock. He doesn’t keep one out front – that’s just asking for trouble – but he keeps one out back. One that is only for absolute emergencies only, and it’s very specifically under the third plant pot along. Eddie must have seen Robin or one of the kids let themselves in and then just...worked it out for himself.

Well, huh, Steve thinks as he follows Eddie out into the yard and across the grass, past the pool and along to the tree line.

Steve wonders vaguely if Eddie actually does this often, getting out of the pool and exploring at night; he doesn’t seem to struggle, and he clearly knows where he’s going, passing through the tree line at the bottom of the yard and then a little further in.

Eddie comes to a stop, and when Steve gets there he sees what Eddie is looking at. It’s a bird. A pigeon probably, like a wood pigeon or something, if Steve’s very limited knowledge of birds is to be believed. It’s lying on the grass, clearly dead.

Steve crouches and watches as Eddie, very gently strokes the fluffy breast feathers of the bird, “Ow. Inied.”

Steve sighs he guesses finished is one way to put it, “yeah, yeah buddy. Uhm. Dead,” Steve pulls Eddie’s hand away, “dead. Don’t touch it. It’s dead.”

“Dead,” Eddie cocks his head.

“Yeah,” Steve yawns, getting sleepy again now the adrenaline’s died down and there’s clearly no danger, “come on, back to bed. Or, you know, the pool.”

Eddie’s reluctant to move at first, but then does when Steve gestures, sliding soundlessly back into the water.

“See you tomorrow buddy.”

“Budidy. Edidie.”

“Yeah, near enough.”

“Do you think he killed the bird?”

“Nah, there wasn’t any obvious like, injury or anything. And you should have seen how gentle he was with it Robs...it was like he felt bad, you know.”

She hums in agreement, “he must have seen someone at the lab use a phone, do you think?”

Steve figured the same, once he’d finished his night’s sleep and actually pondered on it. “Pretty sure he doesn’t know how to actually use it, he was just copying. But the fact that he worked out they were using it to talk to other people, that’s pretty smart, right?”

“Maybe we can teach him to use it?” Robin eats more waffle with her fingers, smearing the broken up bits through the cream. They’re sitting out on the pool chairs for breakfast.

“Dunno, numbers and stuff. A walkie though? I think he might be able to-”

“Steee! Steeee!” Eddie calls him from the water, arms resting on the sides. He’s smiling, looking happy, shades firmly in place today.

“What buddy?”

Eddie points confidently at the sky, “dead!”

Steve looks up; birds. There’s birds flying over.

“Oh no- birds. Eddie those are birds.”

He looks so confused, but Steve suddenly has an idea, “where you going dingus?”

“Be right back a second,” Steve heads into the lounge and runs his fingers along the lowest shelf of books, easily finding the thick children's encyclopedia he got for his birthday one year when he was little. He’s never even opened it, thought it was a shit present, but it’ll do for this.

He opens it on his way back to the pool, finding a page with a big colorful picture of loads of birds on it, sitting by the side of the pool where Eddie can see, “bird.”

“Buurd,” Eddie drags the word out, definitely making it more than a ‘u’ than an ‘i’ sound, but it’s definitely near enough.

“Yeah that’s right,” Steve lays the book out on the edge of the pool, “don’t get it too wet.”

Eddie tilts his head, “et.”

Steve slaps the water, “wet. Uhm.” Tapping the book, Steve says, “finished.”

Eddie looks at his hands, frowning.

“Right, wait,” Steve goes and grabs a towel, left forgotten on a pool chair, and brings it to the edge, “here,” Eddie’s close enough for Steve to take his hands easily, “wet,” after a moment of ruffling Eddie’s hands with the towel, Steve tells him, “dry.” Then he taps the book, “dry. Wet finished.”

He waits to see what Eddie will do, but he holds his hands carefully out of the water before he lifts himself to touch the book.

Steve turns to a page at random, showing Eddie a page with all sorts of big cats on it, lions and tigers and stuff like that, “go on, you do it.”

Steve gestures at Eddie, and, cautiously as he lets his elbows take his weight, Eddie carefully turns the page.

Part five

[lovebugism]

Hiii can i request shy reader whos anxious about different things? I have weird anxiety lol that makes it hard for me to eat in front of people until im comfortable around them. Can i request reader x Steve who have been dating for a while and she tries to avoid eating around him, but she finally gets comfortable and Steve is just so happy, thank you!!

hope you like it angel :D — steve takes care of his anxious gf at a family barbecue (established relationship, hurt/comfort ish, cw for mentions of anxiety and unexplained issues with food | 1.1k)

bug's summer fic fest (⁠ꈍ⁠ᴗ⁠ꈍ⁠)

The picnic table in Steve’s backyard is hardly big enough for all of you. Even when Max and El agree to lay out on a blanket together some feet away — and when Lucas and Erica spontaneously decide to race each other to the pool — it’s still an achingly tight fit. 

You, in particular, are sandwiched between two bodies much larger than yours. Eddie sits to your right, lacking any real concept of personal space, and Steve is off to your left. The latter keeps a strong arm around your back, hugging you closer to his chest every time the wild-haired boy accidentally knocks into you.

“Okay, me and Nance are getting something to eat,” Robin announces, standing suddenly from the table, visibly overstimulated from the constant conversation. Her eyes flit to your cowering form and then to Steve’s protective one. “You guys have fun with… this.”

It takes all of ten seconds for the others to follow behind them. Dustin and Eddie file through the Harrington family barbecue together, filling their decorative paper plates like they’re at an actual buffet. Mike and Will walk on pale, lanky legs around the yard — stopping once to talk to Max and El, then again by the pool with Lucas and Erica.

You and Steve are the only ones still sitting, but he hugs you to him like you aren’t. 

You can feel the early summer breeze on your skin now, without the crowd of teenagers suffocating you. You can hear the whispering wind, and the gentle humming of his pool, and the sounds of quieter conversation in the distance. You can breathe again. Almost. Still slightly strangled by a distant worry that Steve can read from here.

“Are you hungry?” he wonders cautiously, ‘cause he knows how you are about food. You haven’t let him in on the extent of it yet, but he knows it’s there, so he’s obscenely patient with you accordingly.

You glance once over your shoulder — at the tables of grilled meat and food cooked with love. Your stomach rolls with a distant ache, an empty one. You turn back to Steve and shrink under the weight of his honey-eyed stare. “Um… Kinda,” you confess in a mousy voice, shifting on the wooden bench.

His eyes widen in a soft look of surprise. You usually take a little more coaxing than that. 

“Want me to make you a plate?” he offers, squeezing your shoulder with a gentle hand. His pink lips quirk in a sympathetic smile. “We can take it up to my room if you want— get away from all these freaks.”

Your chest warms at his efforts to accommodate you. The way he loves you makes you brave. 

“That’s okay,” you shrug, trying to be cool even though your voice trembles. “We can... We can stay down here.”

Steve’s chest swells with pride. It bubbles up like sunshine until he’s beaming with it. 

It took you months to feel comfortable enough to eat in front of just him. And here you are now, utterly adored and finally brave enough to eat with all the rest of his shithead friends around.

“Yeah?” he hums, still smiling.

“Yeah,” you nod, gaze averted to your hands, which are wringing something fierce in your lap. You force a small laugh. “But it wouldn’t be, like, totally lame if I asked you to come with me, would it?”

Steve scoffs. “Like you even have to. I’m not let you get to the corndogs before me,” he jokes and rises from the creaking bench. “We’ll be lucky if Robin and Henderson don’t eat ‘em all first.”

He gets you laughing so you don’t think twice about meandering across the yard with him — about the eyes that are or are not watching you, or the weird way you are or are not walking. 

And because he keeps you laughing (and largely unthinking), you end up stacking your plate with more food than Steve’s ever seen you eat in public before. He almost mentions it. Almost. But he opts to keep his pride to himself, instead, lest he ruin the moment.

You return to the picnic table with all his friends, noticeably less anxious about being so squished together than before. 

And maybe it’s because Dustin and Eddie can’t eat anything without being sloppy — or maybe it’s because Will’s keeping you distracted with talks of his newest D&D campaign — but you down your food with more ease than Steve’s ever seen from you. Unworried about the crumbs sticking to your fingers and the very corner of your mouth. Completely and utterly comfortable here with him, and with everyone else around you.

The sight makes his heart swell. 

It’s like he’s falling in love with you all over again.

He catches you alone for the first time when you’re tossing empty plates. It’s not exactly the most ideal spot to steal a kiss from you — by the deck, next to the garbage bins — but it’s the first either of you have been out of sight from prying eyes all day. 

So, Steve takes the opportunity and grabs it. Literally. He cradles your wrist in a gentle hand and ushers you closer towards him. Your feet stumble in the tall grass. The tip of his nose brushes the bridge of yours, and you flinch. 

“I taste like cheeseburger,” you laugh.

“I don’t care,” Steve shrugs, face screwed, visibly mourning your mouth. “I taste like barbecue. Who gives a shit?”

He ducks down to kiss you again. And this time, you let him. 

He kisses you harder than you anticipated — a long and languid peck that takes your breath away. He tastes faintly of all the food he’d eaten before, something savory and strawberry sweet. It leaves you dizzy when he pulls away, lips smacking softly as they part.

“What was that for?” you wonder breathlessly a moment later.

Steve bounces his shoulder in a lazy shrug. His kissed lips quirk in a lopsided smile. “Nothin’. I’m just… I’m just proud of you, I guess.”

He doesn’t elaborate any further. He doesn’t have to. You cower at the notion of being perceived and scrunch your nose in disdain. “For being a normal person?” you joke with a cynical scoff. “For once?”

“No. For doing something that was hard for you,” Steve argues, still smiling. His hands rest warm and wide on the outside of your elbows. His thumbs rub softly along the skin there. “And for lookin’ real cute while you were doing it, too.”

You squint, trying hard not to smile at his smiling. 

“Stop flirting with me,” you grouse.

The boy’s pink lips jut in a playful pout. “But why?” he whines. “That’s, like, my favorite pastime.”

[darlingghoulette]

blame the “hitting on your mom as a punishment” tiktok i just saw that literally blew my brain up. established because they’re disgustingly in love and because i say so

Eddie would normally consider himself pretty immune to the roar of arguing teenagers. Chaos surrounds their little Party. They’re not a quiet bunch when all together. It’s all shoving and yelling, giggling and roughhousing. Carpet-burned battle scars from the floor of Steve’s living room.

Lord knows Eddie himself wasn’t an inside-voice kind of person. He was certainly wont to standing on coffee tables and screeching demands for the remote when it was unjustly stolen away by villainous hands.

Eddie loved these people to death, and they were a lot of fucking fun to hang out with, it’s just this...this was an unreal level of noise. A normal sleepover night turned a little too rowdy, the adolescents celebrating the start of Summer with a bang.

Steve had already asked them to keep it down four times this evening. Nothing seemed to calm them. Not requests. Not threats of being sent home. Usually their Dungeon Master threatening their characters’ souls did the trick, but no go. 

Getting teenagers to listen? A feat more impossible than defeating creatures from an alternate universe. 

Dustin and Erica were in a bitching match about the best D&D class. Lucas and Mike had been fighting over movie choices for the last half hour. Eddie’s money was on the VHS player breaking before that, the constant mishandling and shoving of tapes had the poor thing practically smoking.

Will, ever the diplomat, was trying to be an impartial party when asked his movie opinions. Which, of course, caused more yelling. 

Max and El had been the only ones being semi-quiet, but that quickly ended when they followed through on their surprise attack pillow fight, pummeling the boys senseless and causing the already unbearable volume to kick into overdrive. Eddie could practically feel Steve’s migraine building, even from where the dude had retreated to the kitchen. Dinner had been pizza. Quick. Easy. Clean. Or, it would have been if it hadn’t had been for the food fight. Steve was still in there scrubbing cheese out of his parents’ tiled backsplash. Dishes clattered in the distance when the cacophony hit its crescendo. 

It was the proverbial straw. 

“Alright, that’s it! Hey. Come on, guys. Knock it off,”

Nothing. 

“HEY!”

He maybe overdid it that time, but the absolute ear-splitting boom of a yell he let out stopped the ruckus dead. 

Silence rang for a beat.

Huh. Maybe Eddie should try out incorporating that into his music. He honestly hadn’t known he could get to that range. 

The teenagers in the room stared at him, not cowed in the slightest, but curious enough to know what the hell Eddie’s problem was. Max was the first one to quirk an eyebrow at him.  “Geez, need attention much?” 

Eddie folded his arms to show he meant business. “Steve has asked you guys to tone it down. You’re waking the fucking dead. Why don’t you guys, like, actually go be good human beings and help him clean up your mess you all made in the kitchen, huh?” 

Lucas snorted. “Yeah, okay, mom. Why don’t you go help him, you guys will probably just make out in there, anyway.” 

It was a teasing comment. Meant to jokingly rib before getting back to doing whatever the hell they wanted to do.

But, see. That just gave him an idea. 

Never let it be said Eddie couldn’t be creative with his punishments. He was a DM after all. 

“Alllllllright. New plan. Listen up or suffer, ankle biters,” 

He really didn’t appreciate the snickers that brought about when he was trying to be intimidating. Rude. 

“You going to send us to our room or something? I’m real scared,” Erica’s scathing, dry wit was unparalleled, truly. 

“Nope. Better. It’s a new rule: You little shitheads give me attitude and don’t listen, I hit on your babysitter.”

It was silent for a minute, brains audibly computing that statement and coming up ERROR. Will hesitantly spoke up. 

“Uh, Eddie, I really don’t think that’s--”

“Yeah, what the fuck?” Mike interrupted. “Why would you beating up Steve hurt us? I mean, like, I guess it would emotionally, but that’s fucked up, man.” 

Eddie rolled his eyes, still smirking wickedly as his plan solidified.  “Oh, I don’t mean that kind of hitting, young Wheeler. Though, it may yet get physical--Hey, Steve?” He called out. The sink in the kitchen shut off after a second.

“Yeah?” 

“Can you come here?” 

The kids shuffled around on the floor warily as the other man walked into the living room. The energy had obviously shifted, it was probably an odd vibe to walk in to, but Eddie cut Steve off before he could ask any questions.

“You tired?”

“Uh, no. I’m fine--”

“It’s just you just keep on runnin’ through my mind constantly. I figured you’d be exhausted, sweetheart,” Eddie purred, the words cloyingly sweet and full of exaggerated charm. 

There was a countdown, three, two, one...

A collective groan let out. A few uncomfortable laughs.  “Dude, what the hell?” 

“You guys agreed not to be gross in front of us!”

“Oh, my god, can I actually get sick from how cheesy that was?” 

Eddie had to work at keeping in character when his very first line had pulled the intended reaction. He was already reaching forward to curl an arm around Steve, pulling him in in a slow, sultry attempt at being smooth. 

“What? Can’t I be sweet on my guy? You all will understand when you’re in love one day. Right, sugar?” 

Fake gags and retching sounds, too dramatic to be real protests, but still indignant and annoyed. Eddie was pretty sure Dustin slapped a hand over his eyes.

“Uh...yes?” Steve, who had previously looked like a car accident had happened directly in front of him, was catching on to the play. He eyed the disgruntled floor-children with a growing grin and let Eddie snuggle up to him.

God, his baby was so clever. He always knew what Eddie was thinking. 

Too busy having a non-verbal conversation with Steve on how to best annoy the kids, Eddie didn’t see Mike turning his attention back to the tv. He did, however, hear him telling the others to “Just ignore them, they’ll get all gushy and leave us alone.” 

Oh, Michael, Michael. Wrong move. 

“How you doing, babygirl?” Steve flushed, deep and red and--huh. Okay. Revisiting that one in the future. “You good? You need anything? Your head hurting, sweet thing? I can kiss it better,”  Eddie ducked forward to kiss Steve’s cheek. It was chaste, a sweet little thing...that Eddie made infinitely worse by the smacking, obnoxious kissy sounds he emulated there. The chorus of groans and protests started up again. He didn’t even pull his face away to call over to them. 

“I’m sorry, is that attitude? Am I hearing more attitude?”

“Dude, Eddie, noooo!” 

“Jesus, it’s like watching your parents make out, oh my god.” 

“You guys, let’s just go already,” 

“Yeah, I’ll take washing dishes over this,” 

The grossed out teenagers whooshed past them. Grumbling and glaring--except Eleven, who smiled up at them sweetly--leaving Steve and Eddie standing in the living room, still wrapped up together. 

It was too tempting then, with the kids safely out of range, for Eddie to resist the temptation to drop his kisses a little lower down Steve’s neck. To let them get a little less chaste. Just a little.

What can he say? He’s a weak man. 

“That was evil,” Steve hummed. His shoulders dropped, though, relaxing into Eddie’s hold, the closest thing they’ve had to quiet all night settling in. 

“Hey, I accomplished two things. Got them to chill out and I get the perk of feeling you up in the middle of sleepover night. It’s a win-win.” 

A crash and a muffled argument broke out in the kitchen before Steve could respond to that. 

The audible scuffling was cut off by Eddie calling out “Your ass looks great in these jeans tonight, Harrington!” 

The fierce whispers and shushing were enough to get both of the older boys cackling loudly. 

[steveseddie]

sweet as pumpkin pie

steddie | rating: t | wc: 3,1 k | cw: none | tags: dustin & steve, dustin & eddie, eddie knows how to bake, steve has a crush, getting together, first kiss, steve pov

for @steddie-spooktober day twenty-four, prompt “pumpkin” 

read on ao3

Pounding at the door has Steve scrambling to his feet and hurtling towards the front door. He glances at Eddie on the couch and is relieved to find he’s still napping soundly, unbothered by the noise. 

Steve doesn’t want him to wake up, not when Eddie showed up an hour earlier looking exhausted after nightmares kept him up all night. The last thing Steve wants is for Eddie to lose any more sleep because whoever is at the door grows impatient and knocks harder. 

So he fumbles with the lock and swings the door open to reveal–

“Dustin?”  

“Steve, we have an emergency!” Henderson shrieks, his loud volume making Steve flinch.

His annoyance is immediately replaced by worry as the kid’s words register. His body tenses up, his fingers itch for his nail bat. “An Upside Down emergency?” 

“Worse!” Dustin says. Steve’s stomach churns and he feels sick. He tries to think what could be worse than an Upside Down emergency– “A baking emergency!” He finishes before Steve can spiral. 

He blinks at him. “A baking–” he starts in incredulity. “Henderson! Jesus fucking Christ, man.” He reaches over and flicks his stupid Thinking Cap. 

“What?” Dustin protests, swatting Steve’s hand away.

“That’s not worse than an Upside Down emergency! Nothing is worse than an Upside Down emergency!”

“Fine, but it’s up there,” Dustin argues stubbornly.

“Whatever,” Steve says, pinching the bridge of his nose. He wishes Eddie was awake so that they could share an exasperated look. “What’s the matter, shithead?”

“You know my mom isn’t home this week, right?”

“Yeah, she’s visiting family or something.” She told Steve as much when she called and asked him to keep an eye on her Dusty. 

“Right, well, the science club is in charge of the baking sale this week and she volunteered to bring something, but she forgot it was this week!” 

Steve blinks at him, failing to see what the problem is. “So? She left you money, right? Just buy some cupcakes at Melvald’s and bring those.”

Dustin gasps, affronted. “Steve, it’s a bake sale! Not a store-bought sale!”

“Things at stores were baked at some point too, butthead,” Steve argues, but Dustin keeps looking at him like he’s being stupid. “Geez, fine, what do you want me to do about it anyway?”

“I need you to bake me something, duh.”

Steve snorts. “Sure, yeah, I’d love to, except I don’t know how to bake.”

Dustin frowns. “Bullshit! You cook for us all the time!”

“Yeah, cook like actual food, not pies and shit,” he says, crossing his arms and leaning against the door.

“It’s the same thing!”

Steve thinks back on the time he tried to bake brownies for Nancy and how he almost burned his house down in the process. “It’s so not,” he says in a bitchy tone. 

Dustin groans, scrubbing his hands down his face. “But Steve, I need a pie!”

“Sorry, kid, you’re gonna have to ask someone else. Maybe Mrs. Wheeler or–”

“I can do it.”

Both of their heads snap towards the living room entrance where Eddie stands, rubbing his eyes sleepily. 

Christ, he’s cute, Steve thinks, and immediately feels his cheeks heat up. He hopes Eddie is still too groggy from sleep to notice. “Do what, Eds?” 

“Make Henderson a pie,” Eddie says, waving his hand at the kid. 

Dustin blinks at him with wide eyes. “You know how to bake a pie?” 

“Yup.”

Steve finds himself asking, “How?” 

Eddie snorts amusedly. “We have ovens in the trailer park too, rich boy,” he snarks but his words lack any heat. “Though I might have to borrow yours for this, ours hasn’t worked since the turkey incident of ‘84.”

Dustin and Steve exchange a look, equally shocked by what they’re hearing. 

“So,” Eddie goes on, clapping his hands together. “What kind of pie do you need, Henderson?” He asks as slides his Reeboks on, which he left by Steve’s door when he showed up. “Cherry, pumpkin, apple?”

“Uh, pumpkin?”

Eddie flashes him a dimpled grin. “My favorite,” he says, grabbing his car keys from the table at the entrance. “Let’s go then, shrimp.”

“I thought you were gonna make it here,” Steve says, confused by Eddie leaving.

“Gotta go shopping first, Stevie,” Eddie explains, van keys spinning around his finger. “And I gotta dust off the old recipe, it’s been a while since I used it.”

“Ugh, but I hate grocery shopping!” Dustin whines, earning a smack on the back of his head from Eddie.

“It’s your pie, Henderson. Suck it up.” 

Dustin scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest. 

Eddie turns to Steve, batting his long eyelashes at him. “You mind cleaning the oven for me in the meantime, sweetheart?”

Steve should protest that he didn’t agree to help, but with Eddie’s big doe eyes staring at him like that and him calling him sweetheart, all he can muster is a weak, “Yeah, okay.”

Eddie grins, throwing a wink over his shoulder as he grabs the back of Dustin’s neck and pushes him towards his van. “Be back in a few, honey!” He calls back to Steve. “And then we’re baking a pie!”

Steve watches them go and closes the door once the pair gets in the van. 

He’s in the kitchen, ready to clean his oven for Eddie when his words register in Steve’s brain.

“Wait– we?”

***

Eddie and Dustin come back an hour later, carrying everything they need. 

Dustin dumps his bags on the counter and immediately tries to retreat to the living room but Eddie moves faster. He grabs onto the handle of his backpack, pulling him to an abrupt stop, Dustin’s limbs flailing like a puppet on strings. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” He asks, tugging Henderson back into the kitchen. “I told you, it’s your pie so you’re helping.”

“But my mom never forces me to help!” He protests, trying to shrug off his backpack to escape. 

Eddie wraps an arm around his neck instead. 

“Yeah, well. Your mom is a saint, I’m not,” he says, letting him go once Dustin stops struggling and handing him a whisk and a list of ingredients for him to mix. 

Begrudgingly, Dustin accepts them and sets off to work on making the filling while Eddie and Steve work on the crust. 

Steve has to focus really hard on following Eddie’s instructions correctly. Not because the instructions are particularly complicated or anything, mostly it’s just ‘add this’ or ‘measure that’ or ‘hand me those’. It’s because Eddie is very distracting like this– with his hair tied in a messy bun, the sleeves of his flannel rolled over his forearms, flour smeared on his face.

And then there’s the familiarity with which he moves around Steve’s kitchen after spending so much time here, helping Steve cook or just keeping him company. And the confidence with which he measures, mixes, and adds ingredients, or tells Steve to do it. 

Steve always had a thing for competence. It’s why he was so attracted to Nancy, whether she was getting all of her chemistry flashcard questions right or shooting monsters in the face. It’s why he started crushing on Robin after she cracked that Russian code. Steve knows that if he had been there when Eddie played the most metal concert ever, and he had seen him shredding his guitar the way Dustin describes it, he would’ve been too busy drooling over him to fight Vecna. 

Eddie knowing how to make a pumpkin pie from scratch is no different– and if it weren’t for Dustin, Steve probably would’ve already pinned Eddie against the kitchen counter to sloppily make out with him. 

For now, Steve tries his best to pay attention to what Eddie asks him to do and not get distracted by thoughts of kissing him or dragging him upstairs or–

He realizes he fails when Eddie has to smear flour on his nose to get his attention. 

“Hey,” Steve protests weakly, going cross-eyed trying to stare at the white powder on his nose.

Eddie chuckles. “There you are, I’ve been talking to you for like, five minutes.” 

“Oh.” Steve must’ve gotten distracted staring at Eddie’s arms as he expertly kneaded the dough and rolled it into balls. He glances down at the counter and realizes he’s done already. Then he glances around the kitchen and notices it’s just the two of them. 

“Where’s Henderson?”

“Well, the filling is ready and we have to leave these babies in the fridge for two hours,” he says, holding up one of the dough balls. “So I sent him to pick a movie for us to watch in the meantime.”

“Oh, okay,” Steve says, wondering how he could’ve been so deep in thought that he missed all of that happening. He grabs one of the dough balls while Eddie grabs the other one, following him to the fridge. “Do we need this much pie crust?” He asks as Eddie opens the door. 

“I thought we could make two pies so I doubled the recipe. Henderson can take one and we can have the other,” Eddie says, sticking the dough in the fridge. “That way you can try it and I can take some back to Wayne. I don’t think we’ve had any homemade pumpkin pie since my mom died.”

Steve hums. “Is this her recipe?”

The smile Eddie gives Steve over his shoulder is a little sad. “Yeah, she taught me how to make it years ago.”

“I can’t wait to try it,” Steve says softly, knocking their shoulders together. 

Eddie spins on his heels, leaning back against the fridge. “I just hope I didn’t fuck it up, it’s been a while,” he chuckles, hanging a hand from his neck. 

Steve shrugs. “You can always blame me. Or Dustin.”

Eddie throws his head back, laughing. There’s a streak of flour on his neck and Steve has to fight the urge to clean it up with his tongue. “Nah, Stevie, you two are doing a great job,” Eddie says with a dimpled grin, “even the kid with his fucking attitude.”

Steve huffs, rolling his eyes. “Right? You’d think he’s doing us a favor.”

“Entitled little shit,” Eddie mutters, but the corners of his mouth tick up.

From the living room, Dustin yells at them, his voice dripping with annoyance. “You guys are gonna watch the movie or what?” 

Steve and Eddie share a look and start laughing. 

***

Two hours later the two of them are back in the kitchen, rolling out the pie crust. 

Or at least, Eddie is. Steve keeps messing it up. 

“Fuck,” he mutters as he screws it up again. “You know what? You do it.”

“Come on, Stevie, it’s not that hard,” Eddie says, knocking his bony hip against Steve’s. 

Whatever protest Steve is about to make dies in his throat when Eddie leaves his perfectly rolled-out pie crust and moves to stand behind him, pressing his body against Steve and Steve’s body against the counter, his arms wrapping around him so he can guide his hands on the rolling pin. 

“You gotta start at the center and work outwards,” Eddie says, speaking into Steve’s ear as he shows him how to do it. Steve can barely focus on anything that isn’t the entire length of Eddie’s body pressed against him. “Yeah, just like that.”

“Christ,” Steve mutters. Eddie’s words whispered lowly into his ear are making Steve’s head swim with all kinds of ideas. It’s a good thing that Eddie seems oblivious to it. 

“Now you do it,” Eddie says, letting go of Steve’s hands and holding Steve’s waist instead. 

Steve’s movements are a little jerky, but he manages to finish rolling out the pie crust successfully, even with Eddie standing behind him the entire time. 

“Great job, Stevie,” Eddie says, hooking his chin on Steve’s shoulder to look down at the counter. 

Steve makes the mistake of turning his head, leaving their faces only a few inches away from each other. Steve’s breath hitches and his heart starts jackhammering against his ribcage. It feels like it might explode out of his chest when he notices Eddie’s eyes unmistakably flicker down to his lips. 

And of course, that’s when Dustin comes barreling into the kitchen. 

“Are you guys done?” He asks, his arms crossed over his chest, his foot tapping on the floor impatiently. 

Steve drops the rolling pin and Eddie jumps back a few steps. Dustin’s eyes dart curiously between the two. 

Eddie clears his throat. “We’d be done sooner if you helped us,” he says, his voice coming out a little strangled. 

Dustin gives them an innocent look, eyes wide like he’s never done anything wrong in his life. “But you're doing such a great job, Eddie.” 

Eddie doesn’t fall for it. He snorts, throwing a kitchen cloth at his face. “Shoo, you gremlin!”

He doesn’t wait for Eddie to tell him twice, hurtling towards the living room. Steve watches in silence as Eddie carefully places the pie crust on the pan and pours the filling Dustin made.

“Now we wait?” Steve asks once both pies are inside the preheated oven. 

“Now we wait,” Eddie says, smiling at Steve. His eyes catch on something and then he reaches out to wipe flour from Steve’s cheek, his thumb lingering on his cheekbone for a second too long. 

His eyes flicker to Steve’s lips one last time before he goes to join Dustin in the living room. 

***

“I present to you," Eddie starts, spinning around on his heels, holding the pie in his hands, “your pumpkin pie, my good sir.”

Dustin grins, letting out something between a laugh and a snort. “Dude, it looks so good!”

“I told you I could bake,” Eddie says, grinning smugly. 

“Hey, we helped,” Steve says with a pout, crossing his arms over his chest. 

Eddie sets the pie down on the counter so he can crowd Steve against it. “Oh, I know, baby, I could never have done it without you.”

Heat builds up in Steve’s cheeks. It’s a good thing that Eddie gets distracted by Dustin rounding the counter and wrapping his arms around his middle in an unexpected hug. “Thank you, Eddie.”

Eddie ruffles Dustin’s curls. “You’re welcome, kid.”

Before Steve can protest once again that he helped, thank you very much, Dustin lets go of Eddie and hugs Steve too. “Thanks, Steve.”

“Of course, buddy.”

“I’ll tell Mom to have you both over for dinner when she comes back,” he says, adjusting his Thinking Cap. 

“Hell yeah,” Eddie says, licking his lips like he’s already tasting Mrs. Henderson’s cooking. “You just earned yourself a drive home, mister.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, no way I’m letting you ruin my–” Steve clears his throat, “ our pie by taking it home on your bike.” He grabs Dustin’s shoulders, and once the kid grabs the pie, he steers him in the direction of the front door. “I’ll come back to help you clean up,” he tells Steve over his shoulder. 

“You better.”

With a wink, they disappear through the kitchen archway, leaving Steve alone with his thoughts. 

And he can’t help but think about Eddie– his eyes on Steve’s lips, his thumb softly brushing over Steve’s cheekbone, his chest pressed against Steve’s back. 

He forces himself to start cleaning up, just so he can stay busy and not drive himself crazy thinking about what might happen when Eddie comes back, now that Dustin won’t be here. 

He’s elbow-deep in rinsing water when he hears the front door open, followed by Eddie’s whistling as he makes his way to the kitchen. 

“Stevie, Stevie, Stevie,” he says, waltzing in, “I told you I’d help!” 

Without turning around, Steve shrugs. “Grab a cloth, you can help me dry.”

He hears a cabinet open and close as Eddie presumably looks for a clean kitchen cloth but when he appears next to Steve, he’s got a plate with a slice of pumpkin pie on it. 

Steve purses his lips. “That’s not a kitchen towel,” he says matter-of-factly. 

“Nope, but I couldn’t wait to try it,” he says, leaning back on the counter, facing Steve. 

Steve gives the slice of pie a pointed look. “Well?”

Eddie grabs a forkful of pie and shoves it into his mouth while Steve stares expectantly at him, waiting for his reaction. It comes in the way of a sinful moan that makes Steve want to shove his head into the water to stop the heat from creeping up his cheeks. 

“I- uh,” he clears his throat, “I take it we didn’t fuck it up?”

Eddie licks his lips, and Steve’s hands tighten around the bowl he was rinsing. “Nop, it’s perfect. Just like my mama used to make it.”

Steve smiles at Eddie’s smug little tilt of his head as he shoves another forkful into his mouth. 

“Hey, I wanna try it too,” he says, nudging Eddie’s side with his elbow. 

He expects Eddie to feed him some pie since his hands are still under the rinsing water and it’s probably what Eddie intends to do, he scoops some pie up with his fork–

But then he hesitates.

His eyes dart over Stece’s face, searching for something. He either finds it or gives up, dropping the fork back onto the plate and placing it on the counter next to him. 

Steve cocks his head, puppy-like, but before he can get a word out, Eddie grabs his cheeks and kisses Steve square on the lips. 

He instinctively kisses back– or does his best to do so considering his hands are still in the water. He moves his lips against Eddie’s and when Eddie laps at his bottom lip, Steve opens his mouth, letting Eddie’s tongue slide inside. 

He tastes like pumpkin pie, is Steve’s first coherent thought, followed by– holy shit, I’m kissing Eddie.

It’s that realization that makes Steve retrieve his hands from the sink, dripping water all over the floor, to wrap his arms around Eddie’s shoulders. He kisses him more deeply, chasing after that taste of pumpkin pie, and smoke, and cinnamon, and Eddie. 

They pull back when they finally need to come up for air but stay wrapped up in each other. 

Steve’s eyes dip down to Eddie’s lips, red and slick with spit. He hears them moving but realizes he didn’t hear whatever Eddie said from the blood still rushing through his ears. 

“Sorry, what?” 

Eddie chuckles a little breathlessly. “I said, what did you think of the pie?” 

“Oh, um. Good, it’s–” Steve licks his lips. “It’s good.” 

Eddie’s mouth twitches with a hint of a smirk. “Yeah?” 

“Mhm but, uh, I think I need– I need to give it another try, you know?” Steve stammers out, watching as Eddie’s eyes go a little dark at that. He licks his lips and Steve does his best not to let out a whine. 

“Come here then, pumpkin,” Eddie says, pulling Steve forward, mashing their lips together. 

Neither of them points out it would be easier for Steve to grab a forkful of pie– they’re too busy chasing after the taste of it on each other’s mouths to even try. 

[havecourage-darling]

I've always been yours // Eddie Munson

Prompt: "I think... I'm in love with him.” "Congrats on being the last one to find out" + the 5 ways to say I love you without saying I love you.

wc: 14K (I'm learning what brevity means y'all)

warnings: female reader, some implied sexual stuff towards the end but not really ish, friends-to-lovers, oblivious idiots in love, the beginnings of rockstar eddie.

Masterlist || AO3

1. Covering sharp edges with their hands, so you don’t get hurt.

You were going to get Max’s birthday cake absolutely perfect even if it fucking killed you, you thought to yourself as your arm ached the harder you mixed the batter.

“Are you sure you don’t need any help Nov?” Eddie asked again.

Pushing the hair out of your eyes with the back of your wrist, you huffed. “I’m okay. I think I adjusted the recipe perfectly this time. I just need to make sure there’s no lumps or the chocolate won’t-”

“I’M GOING TO FUCKING KILL YOU WHEELER!” You heard Dustin yell from the basement.

Eddie snorted. “Ten bucks on Mike,” he said from his place on the counter.

“I’m telling Dustin you said that,” you said, turning from your batter and shooting him a playful look over your shoulder.

He clasped his imaginary pearls dramatically. “Fair maiden, you dare betray our sacred friendship?”

Not able to keep your laugh down, you shook your head. Loud stomping alerted you to the shift of location of whatever fight was happening.

“Do not come into the kitchen with your shit!” You shouted.

Dustin’s voice floated in from the living room. “But Mike-”

“But Mike nothing!” You shouted. “You two shitheads work it out!”

“I didn’t do it on purpose!” Mike shouted, grunting right after. “Ow! Dustin!”

Eddie immediately huffed out laughter. “I’d listen to her, she’s on her fifth batch. Her face is getting whiter and whiter with each cake.”

Your hand flew up to your face, fingers coming back dusted in flour. Turning your glare to his grinning face, you rolled your eyes. “You couldn’t have told me?”

“And ruin how cute you look with all that flour on your face?” Eddie said, nonchalantly going back to the book in his hands. Doing your best to ignore the flustered expression you knew was growing on your face, you turned back to the batter. Eddie always managed to draw out reactions from you, you were sure that was the main reason why he kept doing it.

I like unnerving you he’d said. Asshole, you thought fondly, glancing at him. A good chunk of flour dusted down towards your hands at the motion. Christ, how much flour was on your face?

“I’m going to slap you the second I put this into a pan,” you threatened, trying to get it all off.

Eddie’s grin morphed into something more. “Promises, promises,” he winked.

And there went the butterflies in your stomach.

You opened your mouth to say something else when a blur of curly hair, black shirts, and a flying white shoe flung the kitchen door open.

“Guys,” Eddie warned, placing his book down.

“For fuck’s sake, what’s wrong now?” You said, putting the bowl down onto the kitchen island and stepping towards them with your hands on your hips.

Dustin was the quickest to speak up. “He borrowed the comic that I just managed to get and got it wet!”

“It wasn’t on purpose!” Mike shouted back. “I swear, Holly was eating at the table and spilled her soda!”

“Likely story!” Dustin snapped, eyes narrowing. “You’re doing it because I accidentally broke your figurines last week. I didn’t want to hit that pothole and go flying!”

“For the love of- it wasn’t on purpose!”

Dustin’s arms swung out and Mike darted left to avoid being hit. Before they could even crash together, you knew exactly what was going to happen.

As if in slow motion, you watched as Dustin shoved Mike’s arm into the mixing bowl. Without much prompting, your perfect batter, went tumbling off the island and flew with a vengeance in a million different directions. The opened bag of flour next to it, toppled right after it.

The silence as the bowl wobbled to a stop was painful. You blinked, shocked for a few seconds and nodded dumbly.

Well, that hurt more than the demobats clawing at your neck in the Upside Down.

“I’m going to rip your spines out and play jump rope with it,” you said calmly, eye twitching, at Mike and Dustin. The flour was splattered everywhere, including your new vans and the crevices no one was ever able to clean in the cracks of the linoleum.  

The two idiots shuffled closer to the door. At least they had the decency to look somewhat mortified. Before you could go through with your threat, Eddie’s hands came down to their necks and they both winced.

“Dudes, not cool,” he said, voice uncharacteristically serious. “She said don’t come into the kitchen for a reason. Now she’s gotta wait until you two assholes clean this all up before starting again.”

“Wha-” “But!”

Their protests quickly died down when he smacked them in the back of their heads.

“You break it, you fix it,” he said.

Hiding a smile, you rounded the island towards the rag by the sink and sighed. “Try to hurry, I want to get this decorated before midnight,” you said to the two apologetic teens who were already moving towards the mess.

Pushing the door out into the dining room you tried your best not to trek batter anywhere. Swiping the rag down your face and hair to get rid of any remaining flour you leaned down to help save your vans.

A sudden hand flying out towards your face made you flinch back. Falling onto your butt, you groaned as your hip smacked into the leg of the table.

Eddie shook his head, a soft expression on his face. Your eyes trailed down to where his hand was curled around the corner of the dining table. “Did I almost go face first into that?” You asked from where you were sprawled.

“Yeah, Nova, you almost cracked your skull,” he said, huffing a laugh. “I’d tell you to be more careful but it’d be a waste of breath.” Eddie tugged the rag out your hand and sat down by your feet.

“I-I am insulted.” The indignation cancelled out by the stammering. Eddie had picked up one of your, now dirty, sneakers and plopped it into his lap. He went about meticulously cleaning the chocolate off. “I can do that. You don’t have to-”

His brown eyes darted up to yours, silencing you. “I know I don’t have to; I want to.”

Mildly surprised, and a little flustered by his earnest tone, you nodded dumbly. By the time he was done, there was a pink tinge to his cheeks that you found stupidly endearing.

“There you go fair maiden. Good as new.” He bowed, dropping the rag onto the table. He offered his hand and pulled you up with a firm grip.

Warmth bloomed in your chest at the sight of his wide smile and soft gaze. “Thanks Eddie,” you said, smiling up at him.

He tossed an arm around your shoulders and pulled you towards the kitchen. “Come on, let’s go give them a little more hell,” he whispered, his breath tickling your ear.

Not one to resist, you beamed up at him and nodded. “Dibs on Mike,” you said, laughing when he did.

2. Covering you with a blanket when you look cold.

You met Eddie when you were in middle school but, you hadn’t really become friends until freshman year of high school. You were a cheerleader, one of the few freshmen on the team, and you’d caught Tommy Hagan cornering Eddie in a hallway.

You hadn’t hesitated at the sight of the stupid bully and had thrown your pompoms at his head. With a promise of a Herkie to the face, Tommy and his entourage had left you alone.

“Are you okay?” You asked him, bending over to pick up your tossed pompoms.

Eddie, however, hadn’t looked like he was two seconds away from being shoved into a locker. He was beaming. At you.

“What?” You asked, looking around at the empty hallway. “Do I have something on my face?”

“No, I just…didn’t ever think that my knight in shining armor would be a cheerleader,” he said, tone teasing.

Biting back a smile, you crossed your arms. “Why? Because we’re vapid and only care about our hair?” You cocked your hip.

“No,” Eddie said, straightening, “I swear, that’s not what I-”

Not able to help it, you burst out into laughter. “I’m fucking with you,” you said, hiding your laugh behind your hand. “I know Tommy’s little sister and she basically rules his household. He knows not to mess with her.”

Eddie smiled and you’d realized that he had a really nice smile. With a flourish, he bowed. “Well, I’m in your debt knight.”

Scrunching your nose, you shook your head. “Not a fan of the nickname?” He asked, starting towards the exit doors. Walking backwards, he drifted closer to you. “What about Nova?”

“What?” You laughed, surprised. “How’d you go from Knight to Nova?”

“Well, you’re my knight in shining armor – what’s brighter than a supernova?”

Throwing your head back, your laugh echoed down the hallway. You’d quickly become friends.

“Novaaaa, come on,” Eddie groaned, flopping down onto the sofa, “just pick a movie.” Clearly, almost a decade later, the nickname had stuck.

“Don’t rush me!” You told him, eyeing the three tapes in front of you. “Which one do you want to watch?”

Eddie’s head lolled back around to you and he smiled. “It’s your turn to pick,” he reminded you.

“I know, but-”

“Just put on Grease,” Eddie said, voice muffled by the pillow. You were about to protest, what an absolutely rude assumption, when a knock echoed from Eddie’s front door. “Pizza’s here. Pick a movie!”

Sighing, knowing that he’d had a bad week, you pushed Indiana Jones into the VCR. The smell of hot pizza wafted over to you and your stomach immediately roared – reminding you that you hadn’t had enough time to eat before your shift.

“Alright, alright, I heard you,” Eddie said, motioning to your stomach. He brought the box over, handing you some water and frowned at the television. “What’s this?”

“Indianamph Jonesah,” you said, around a mouthful of steaming pizza. You were going to miss your tastebuds but goddamn if it wasn’t a great mouthful.

Eddie rolled his eyes, pulled the tape out and shoved Grease in. Dodging your flailing arm, he dropped to the floor by the coffee table, his shoulder brushing your knee.

The opening music started and you found your eyes drawn to the screen. “What the hell?”

“I got that because I know you like to watch one of the same five movies after a long shift,” he said, picking up his own slice.

“But-”

He bumped your leg with his shoulder. “It was your turn to pick, I promise – I don’t mind. Besides, it’s starting to grow on me. It’s definitely better than Overboard.”

“Hey, that’s a good movie!”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “Right, and I’m Ozzy Osbourne.”

“Well,” you said with a smile growing, “you had the chance to bite off a bat’s head but you wasted that opportunity.”

Choking on his mouthful of pizza, Eddie laughed and shot you a soft look. “I’m glad my brush with death is something you can laugh about now.”

“Yeah, well, it’s been almost a year. Thought it was about time we all started joking about almost dying,” you said, “besides, Max started it.”

“I’ve never met another person with such morbid humor,” Eddie said, eyes following Danny and Sandy as they kissed on the beach. A flash of something shot through you but you ignored it.

You shrugged despite the fact that you knew he couldn’t see it. “I’m kinda proud of her for having it,” you said, bopping your head to the music you knew by heart.

I solve my problems and I see the light

We gotta loving thing, we gotta feed it right

Eddie turned to you suddenly, his eyes shifting. “Yeah, I’m proud of all of us.”

You grinned at him, dropping your plate onto the table and getting comfortable on Eddie’s couch. It was one of his better purchases – Wayne had chosen to accept the new trailer the state had bought him while Eddie had moved into a small one bedroom downtown. It made more sese considering it was close to the music store you both worked at.

“I’m not pausing the movie if you knock out,” he warned as you fluffed the pillow behind your head.

“I’m not going to fall asleep, when am I ever the one who knocks out first?”

Eddie shot you a look. “Did you want me to bring out a list or?”

Smacking the back of his head, he ducked and laughed when you half missed your target. “Alright, alright, I’m missing the good stuff.”

“I knew you liked this movie,” you said, nudging him with your knee. Eddie shot you a withering glare, or he tried to, because you laughed at his attempt. Amused, his eyes drifted to over your head and you were about to turn when something dropped into your lap.

Eddie pulled the crocheted blanket over your legs and let it pool around your waist. The black and white blanket had been gifted to Eddie by Robin. She’d decided she was going to learn to crochet last year and spent the entire months leading up to Christmas lost in her projects. Your green scarf was hanging with your jacket by the door. You loved this blanket and you knew Eddie did too – it was always draped across the sofa for easy access.

 “My place gets cold at night,” he said at your questioning look, “you know that. Besides, you’ll make it an hour before knocking out.”

The sweet gesture was overshadowed by his smug look and your hand jutted out to hit any part of him you could reach. “I’m not going to fall asleep.”

Both of you went back and forth, poking fun, and as you watched Danny ignore Sandy for Cha-Cha, you heard Eddie snort.

“What?” You asked, tapping your fingers along to the beat.

“I just always thought it was funny how he leaves her behind, he just goes with it,” he said.

You pointed to the cameras. “They’re on live television,” you explained sleepily.

“So?” Eddie raised his brow. “Are you defending him?”

“Of course not!” Why was this couch so comfortable? The blanket moved around you, warm hands tucking it over your shoulders and sighing when you snuggled into it.

Eddie’s knowing smile went a little fuzzy around the edges as your eyes felt harder and harder to keep open. Before you could formulate a comeback, the exhaustion of the day pulled you under. As you were entirely lost to the world, you heard Eddie murmur, “I would never leave you behind.”

3. Holding your hand when you’re falling apart.

Four years of cheerleading practice had not prepared you for what it truly meant to run for your life. Not really.

It stood to reason that you’d really never had to run from an interdimensional monster before – up until your employment at The Gap. Honestly, it was The Gap’s fault.

You’d met Robin at the first Hawkins Middle School band practice as small seventh graders. Her mom had told her she needed to get a job for the summer and she’d dragged you along with her. She had gotten hired at Scoops Ahoy and, in your defense, who was going to say no to a daily free ice cream? So, if you really thought about it – it was Scoop’s fault. And Robin’s.

The moment you saw Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington behind the counter, you should’ve turned the other way. But no, Robin was absolutely sure he’d changed. You snorted. Sure, he’d changed. Having all your friends drop you towards the end of your senior year would humble anyone. You’d been close enough to the source when the downfall of The Hair happened. It hadn’t been pretty. Especially after Nancy Wheeler decided to stick by Jonathan.

While he hadn’t been one of the few who liked to remind you of your low spot on the totem pole, he definitely wasn’t Mother Theresa. You’d seen how his friends treated Eddie’s friends – people who they deemed outcasts. Eddie had only been mostly spared because you two were practically fused at the hip. Besides, he knew that Nancy liked you – the two of you had hung out before considering you’d both been close friends with Barb. While you and her weren’t best friends, you knew he didn’t want to mess with anyone Nancy liked. Which, really, made him a selfish, self-centered asshole. And anyway, you’d seen what he’d spray painted onto the theater header.

It wasn’t until you saw him with Dustin, one of your favorite neighbors, that you’d conceded. How could someone who clearly held a middle schooler up to such high standards be that bad? Besides, Dustin was a kid – but you trusted him. Robin, of course, still held that against you to this day.

To be fair, Steve himself hadn’t won you over until he’d taken hit after hit to keep you and Robin as safe as possible. Russians in a secret lab under Starcourt injecting you with truth serum was not something you’d had on your 1985 bingo card.

You still remembered how Steve had grabbed each of your wrists so tightly that it’d taken weeks for the bruises to fade. He’d practically tossed you both under a massive table when the Mind Flayer had landed mid-food court. Robin clutched at your shoulders, Steve a steadying presence behind you.

He’d waited, for hours, as the EMTs cleared all of you outside the burning mall. And while you’d hoped that this was the last time any of your friends, new or old, had tried to save you – clearly that had been wishful thinking.

The muscles in your arms burned as you hauled yourself through the gate. Breath knocked out of you as you landed on your back, you glanced up to see Eddie’s hands stilling on the makeshift rope.

“Come on!” Dustin screamed. “Eddie come on!”

A flash of something crossed his expression and you knew. You knew he was going to do something stupid.

“Eddie!” You screamed, voice cracking in your desperation. His wide eyes struck yours and you knew the moment he’d decided. “Don’t you fucking dare! Edward Munson, you listen to me right now. Climb this fucking rope.”

“I’m sorry Nov,” he said, staring up at you with a sad smile. Without thinking, you scrambled to throw yourself down the gate but the rope dropped by your feet, cut from the source. “I love you. Take care of Dustin,” he said, eyes sincere and apologetic.

“Eddie!” You both screamed, voices hoarse.

Panic clawed at your chest. You couldn’t breathe – he was…he was going to get himself fucking killed. Spurring into action, Dustin pushed you aside as he grunted from the effort of pushing the dining table towards the middle of the room. “Come on! Those things will kill him, we gotta get back!”

Not one to be told twice, you shoved a few pieces of furniture on top of the table for good measure. You climbed up to the gate, barely able to touch the edges. Adrenaline rushed through you as you looked down to Dustin. “Give me a boost, I can almost reach it!”

Without hesitating, Dustin kneeled, hands on your calves and you used his knee to hoist yourself up. You didn’t have much time to adjust yourself but you channeled every tumbling move you’d ever done and tried to tuck and roll. Mostly successful, you only winced as your shoulder collided painfully with the metal chair.

“Okay, I’ll be right back!”

“You can’t just fucking leave me here!” Dustin shouted. You pointed up at him with all the authority you could muster.

“Try to tie more sheets together, the others will need help climbing through when they come back,” you glared at him, “don’t do anything stupid Henderson.”

Not waiting for a response, you kicked the trailer door open and scanned the field. A tornado of bats and a loud, heartbreaking, scream cut through you.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, you fucking idiot,” you said, panicking as you ran. You watched as the bats took turns diving for him, his spear barely keeping them back.

“Come on!” He screamed into the eye of the storm. Because of course he did. The idiot. You willed your legs to run faster, to just get you there so you could help. Then, they struck. Eddie’s hands whipped up to his throat and you watched him slam into the floor.

“Eddie!” You screamed, throat raw, but it was drowned out by the screeching bats. A flash of Billy being impaled, lifted into the air, and thrown like a ragdoll bubbled up to your consciousness. No, please, you begged, not Eddie, not him.

Slowing as you neared, you pulled the gun from around your shoulders and squared them like Hopper had taught you. The shots echoed despite the chaos, your blood rushing through your body. “Get away from him!” You shrieked, fighting your way through the opening you’d created.

You slipped on the unmoving body of the ones you’d shot down and slid directly into an motionless Eddie. Covering his body with your own, you raised your gun as they swooped down. Almost out of bullets, you’d just hit another when one managed to swipe you from the side – claws digging into your skin. Screaming, you waved the gun like Steve’s bat and swatted as many as you could out the air.

Shit, you couldn’t keep this up. There were too many.

Then, as if puppets that were cut, they all dropped to the floor. One slammed into your bad shoulder painfully and you cried out.

“Nov?”

The weak voice was like beacon and you quickly slid to the ground. You weren’t going to question your good luck. Pulling the leather jacket off his chest your heart dropped down next to the dead demobats and you immediately started to cry.

“That bad huh?” He joked, voice wet as blood poured out his mouth.

“You absolute fucking asshole. You dickhead,” you berated him as you tied your own cargo jacket around the gash in his stomach. Rising to your knees, you quickly pulled your belt off your waist and made a tourniquet around his upper thigh. Your hands were drenched in blood and you forced the bile down. Focus, you need to stop the bleeding. You needed to get him back to the trailer, you yelled at yourself.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Eddie’s weak hand came up to your forearm and your heart creaked as the cracks deepened. “It’ll be okay.”

“No it won’t you fucking moron, you’re my best friend – I – can’t watch you die. I won’t,” you said, hauling him onto your lap. You tried to stand but your shoulder immediately gave and you both crashed to the ground.

A sob wrenched it’s way out your throat, helpless and willing your shoulder to work. Just this time, please, please, you begged.

“Nova,” Eddie’s voice trailed off, weaker than before.

Cradling his stupid face, your hands left streaks of blood on his pale skin. Shaking, your fingers caressed his jaw. The brown eyes, more familiar to you than your own, slowly started to fade.

“Eddie, stay with me, someone’s coming okay – it’s going to be okay,” you said, entire body clinging to his.

“I-I told you this was my year,” he said, blood tricking down. His unseeing eyes searched for you, like they always did, and you realized that you wouldn’t survive this. Eddie was going to fade from existence, the entire town thinking him a murderer, and this would finally be the storm that broke you.

“I can’t live without you,” you stammered, words bubbling up in rapid succession, you had things you needed to say – stuff you needed to do with him still. You were supposed to have time – it wasn’t supposed to end this way. Jaw aching as you bit down your anguish, you pressed a kiss to his forehead and he sighed. “Eddie, please,” you begged, unashamed and desperate.

Take me, you begged the dark skies that mocked you, anyone but him.

“I l-love-” he gagged, choking on his own blood and you pressed your forehead against his.

“Sh, sh, it’s okay, I’m here Eddie. I’m here. I know. Me too,” you said, tongue sticking to the roof of your mouth. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

Sorry you weren’t fast enough, sorry you couldn’t save him, sorry for having to be the one to watch him die. Eddie’s hand came up to your wrist, squeezing once before dropping limp.

The silence around you was deafening. No, no, no, no.

You screamed, anguished, and the pain unbearable. Anger coursed through you, mixing with your overwhelming grief. It crashed into you from all angles, its hands grabbing onto you and pulling you under. Your throat hurt but you couldn’t stop screaming, all of you couldn’t stop screaming in the unfairness of it all.

“Eddie?” A voice shouted through the darkness. You whipped your head up, searching through the night for the voice.

“Steve?” You called out tentatively, hand reaching for your discarded gun. Was this a trick? You scanned your surroundings, vision blurry. No, you steeled yourself, this place had already taken everything from you – they couldn’t have his body too.

Swinging the gun towards the quick footsteps, you ignored your trembling arms.

“Hey, hey! Wait, it’s me,” Steve said, hands up. He stepped in front of Robin, his eyes on the still body behind you.

Eyes wild, you blinked away your constant tears, and loosened the hold on your gun. “Stevie?”

“It’s me, it’s me – I promise,” he said, hand coming out to take your shotgun. Handing it to Nancy, he pulled you into his arms. “What happened?” He winced when he saw your skin bleeding sluggishly.

“Eddie?” Robin whispered, dropping to her knees beside him.

Willing yourself to keep it together you nodded towards the house. “What happened?”

“He’s dead, we got him – Nance got him. It’s over.”

Feeling weak, you leaned on Nancy’s outstretched arm and watched as Steve dropped to examine him.

“He’s – he – cut the rope – I tried, my shoulder – it, oh God,” you said, scrambling towards the nearest wall and throwing up everything in your stomach. A warm hand came up to your back, rubbing it back and forth until your heaving stopped.

“I got you,” Nancy said, “I’m here, it’s okay. I’m here for you.”

He was dead. Eddie was gone. Nothing would ever be okay again.Your blood-soaked hands reached out and she clasped them. Eyes on yours, strong and steady, she nodded. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

“Nance,” your voice sounded warped. “I tried.”

She shushed you, bringing your arm over her shoulders and taking most of your weight as you crumbled. You watched as Robin and Steve grabbed him, moving quickly towards the trailer.

“What? Where are you going?” Nancy shouted.

Robin grunted under the weight as she climbed the steps. “He’s got a pulse! The tourniquets are holding! We gotta move fast!”

.

Coincidentally, the nearest hospital to Forest Park was at the town line one over. Robin had assured you that since it wasn’t Hawkins, they weren’t likely to recognize him instantly. Worry for Max joined your overwhelming weight as you glanced at the destruction the earthquake had wreaked. “Do you think he got her?” You asked, voice barely audible.

“I killed him as the clock was chiming,” Nancy said, “it only rang three times. I’ll call when we get to the hospital – they’ll be okay. We’re all okay. We have to be.”

After admitting Eddie, a concerned nurse offered you a pair of scrubs to change into. Glancing down at your clothes, you realized you were covered in blood. Eddie’s blood.

Tearing up, her eyes had softened incredibly and she helped you wash it off. “It’ll all work out honey, you’ll see,” she whispered as the blood dribbled down the drain. You’d barely felt the needle as she stitched the claw marks on your chest and neck.

It’d taken an hour of arguing but you promised the others you could keep it together for the night as they drove back to Hawkins to figure out what was going on. Robin had kissed the top of your now clean hair, and clasped her hands with yours. “I will be back as soon as I can, okay? As fast as I can.” The fierceness in her tone had your eyes tearing up again and she hugged you tightly.

Five hours after being admitted, with no news, you received the second shock of the night.

“Hopper?” You sputtered, almost bowled over to see the ghost of your old Chief of police.

Head shaved, a few pounds lighter, but the smile that came from hearing your voice was just the same. “Hey kid,” he said, bringing you into a tight hug.

It took another hour, and the arrival of just about everyone you knew, for a nurse to let you know that Eddie had stabilized. They’d needed to operate to stop the internal bleeding, he’d needed a few blood transfusions and was placed into a medically induced coma, but he’d be alright.

“He’s…he’ll be okay?” You asked, not willing to cling onto any false hope.

The nurse from earlier stepped forward, her kind eyes wrinkled as she smiled. “Yeah, honey, he’ll be okay.”

Swallowing back your tears, you pulled her into a hug. “Thank you.”

Two hours later, while you sat glued to his side, Hopper let you know that Eddie was cleared of all charges.

“Do you want to know?” He asked.

Shaking your head, you smiled up at him for the first time in the last twelve hours. The sun peaked out from the horizon, drenching Eddie’s dark room in a warm orange light. “I don’t care how. Just – thank you.”

Hopper ruffled your hair and you leaned into his touch like cat arching for more affection. “They’ll want your statement but not until a few days from now. As far as you know, you were over Robin’s with Steve for the entire night. Her neighbor, Mrs. Matthews has already said she could corroborate your alibi.”

Smiling, you nodded. “I don’t even want to know what the U.S. government had on her.”

“You don’t,” he agreed.

It took Eddie another day to wake up. Wayne had finally convinced you to go get something to eat, I won’t leave his side sweetheart, I promise.

You balanced the two coffees in your hand as you pushed open the door to Eddie’s room. Surprised to see the entire party surrounded by the bed, you blinked, a little taken aback.

Dustin was the first to catch your eye, his grin so wide it almost split his face in two. “Eddie’s awake!” Your eyes darted to the bed, the man in it grinning up at a tearful Wayne.

“You absolute asshole,” you hissed, not able to keep it down.

The party laughed, Steve shaking his head. “Hi Nova,” Eddie said, voice hoarse, and you felt your stomach swoop as those eyes met yours. “I’m sorry.”

“You better be,” you said, handing Wayne his coffee. He promised to be back, wanting to speak to the doctor. The moment the door closed; chaos reigned. Everyone talked over each other and you watched, amused. Sipping your coffee, you smacked Lucas’ shoulder as he made fun of something Mike said.

Steve’s whistle was loud enough to pierce several eardrums and you winced. “One at time! The man just woke up from a coma.”

“Medically induced coma,” Mike clarified.

You fought the urge to smack him too.

Despite the severity of what brought Eddie to the hospital, after a week – he was given the all clear. The party was at Eddie’s new trailer, decorating the larger space for his homecoming. You’d been tasked to watch over the patient. You’d arrived early, still not entirely able to have him out of your sights for too long. As you popped your head in, you realized he was asleep.

Dropping into the comfortable chair next to his bed, you set yourself up for waiting. In the past week and a half, you hadn’t managed to find a moment alone with Eddie. There was always a party member at his bedside at all times. Or a band member. Or a parent.

Eddie’s room had quickly become well known for the noise and chattering that spilled out into the hallways. At its absence, you realized you didn’t know what to do.

Smacking his lips, Eddie’s head moved towards the door, eyes still closed. As he shifted, you caught sight of the large bandage by his neck. The purple bruising on his arms looked painful and your chest clenched at the sight of them.

It seemed that before you could decide for yourself, the silence swallowed you whole. Bringing you hand up to your lips, you tried to silence your sobs. Chest heaving with the effort, you buried your face into your hands and cried. The last week of pushing everything down and resolving to deal with it later had finally caught up to you.

Everyone has their reckoning, you were reminded. This was yours.

A warm hand came up to your shoulder, the bandaged one, and softly caressed where the tape adhered to your skin. “Hey you,” he said, sleep clinging to the corner of his knowing gaze.

“I’m sorry,” you sputtered, trying to push it back down but there was no use. Pandora’s box had been opened. Turning from him, you caught sight of his frown. His pained grunt made you whip back to him and you almost tripped over your own feet as you rushed to help. Eddie’s expression was twisted as he sat up, sweat beading at his temples.

“Lie down, you psychopath,” you said once the lump in your throat let you speak. “The bed will move for you! You just had surgery on your side for fuck’s sake.” You ducked your head, trying to avoid his eyes as you adjusted the bed to his liking.

Stubborn as always, Eddie tapped your forearm. “Don’t hide from me, not you,” he said softly, his eyes searching for yours. Giving in, you let your blurry sight find his and he sighed. “Nova, you should’ve told me.”

“Told you what?” You said through desperate inhales.

“That you’d been bottling it up – come here,” he said. You wished you could climb into the bed with him but you couldn’t, his incision still very off limits to movement. You were trying to decide where to touch, when he decided for you. His right hand opened, fingers wiggling towards you. “Come on.”

Interlocking your fingers with his, relishing in the touch, you pressed the back of his hand to your cheek. His pulse beat against yours, alive – wondrously and beautifully alive. This, this was what you needed. A moment to lose it before rearranging the bricks of your mental foundation back in place. The image of him, eyes unseeing, bubbled to the surface and despair twisted it’s venomous grip around your lungs.

Choking, you let the sob come out unbidden. Not sure you could stop it if you wanted to, you let the tears drown you. Weeping, you whimpered as you accepted what could’ve been. What you would’ve had to watch. The fact that you would’ve had something so important ripped from your grasp.

He's okay, you thought, he’s alive.

“I’m here,” he said, his voice a quiet echo of Nancy’s lost words. “I’m here. I got you.” After a few minutes, your chest stopped heaving and you could take a deep breath.

“I’m sorry,” you told him, a little embarrassed. “Thank you.”

“No, I’m sorry,” he said, pulling your hand from your face and towards his own. He pressed a kiss to your knuckles and you blinked at him.

“Why are you sorry?” Christ, you were a mess. He’d been in a coma for two days and he was comforting you. He’d almost died and you were too weak to be strong for your friend.

“I’m sorry for leaving you,” he said, “I’m sorry that you had to be the one I left behind. I’m sorry for scaring you. I’m sorry that you had to see me like that. I’m sorry for hurting you even if I’d do it again if it meant you were safe. It was scary and I’m sorry for doing that to you, no matter how important it was that I did it.”

His thumb caressed your hand and you bit back the tears that wanted to wail out to the world that you’d almost lost something that couldn’t be replaced. But the silence that fell was comforting, a soft and easy kind. One that didn’t need to be filled and his pulse was a balm soothing your raw panic.

And yet -

“Don’t leave me here alone. It’s your Sam calling,” you said, eyes on his. A small real, smile broke out on his face and he squeezed your hand.

Despite the bandages across his jaw, and the wince of pain as he shifted, you hadn’t seen someone look so beautiful.

“Don’t go where I can’t follow, wake up Mr. Frodo,” Eddie whispered and you beamed at him.

4. Telling you to call them so they know you got home safe.

“For fuck’s sake,” you hissed, rubbing your temples as you watched Robin hop on top of a bar table to dance.

Eddie’s laughter hit your ear and you shivered at the warmth. “Come on Nov, she looks like she’s having fun,” he said, chest pressed against your back. Tucking his chin over your shoulder, you finally waved down the bartender.

“Can I have another club soda please?” You asked, handing her the money. She nodded, eyes drifting to Eddie and smiling.

“You two are a really cute couple,” she said, sliding the glass towards you.

Opening your mouth to correct her, Eddie beat you to it. “Thank you!” At your glance, he shrugged. “It’s easier to go along with.”

Something in your chest tightened at the thought but you shrugged. “Jesus, Eddie, can you bring her down? She’s going to end up falling and cracking her neck.”

Eddie sighed, his warm hand coming up to squeeze your waist. “We really need to stop promising to be the babysitters,” he said, lips brushing against your temple before leaving to drag a protesting Robin off the sticky table.

“Hey,” a guy to your left said, his hair long and pin straight.

You turned to him, not wanting to be rude but also not wanting to make it look like you were welcoming any type of flirting. Eddie already had to shove a creep with a persistent attitude off of Nancy. “Hi,” you said, taking a sip of your drink.

“Sorry to bother you,” he said, a little too quiet for the noise level inside, “but is that the lead singer of Corroded Coffin?”

Relief flooded through you and your shoulders dropped. “Yeah, that’s him.”

“Holy shit, I saw his band last month when he was the opening act for Riot Act. I’m a big fan! They’ve got a great sound,” he said awed. “Sorry! I’m Jack.”

“Hey, I’m-”

“-here with someone,” Eddie’s voice floated over your shoulder and towards the straightening man on the stool.

A little surprised by Eddie’s furrowed expression, and practically thrown by the small ember of something in your spine at his serious tone, you placed a hand on his and smiled up at him. “This is Jack, he’s a fan of Corroded Coffin’s.”

Eddie’s expression completely transformed, a wide smile overtaking the sharp look in his eyes. “Oh man, thanks! Sorry, you know how these bars can get.”

“Yeah,” Jack said, brightening, “totally! Are you guys going to be playing somewhere else soon? I heard a few people say you might be going to Sold Out in Indianapolis!”

Eddie rubbed the back of his neck and you could tell he was flustered by the pink tinge to his neck. “We are! We’re going to be there for a few weekends for the next couple months. We start sometime in the summer. Still ironing out a few details.”

“That’s great! I’m sorry for asking but, do you mind signing something for me?” Jack asked, excitement growing his eyes.

Both of you thrown, you felt your own giddiness build in your chest. “He’d love to,” you answered for a stunned Eddie. “In fact, the entire band is here tonight. You’ll have to excuse everyone else – we’re the designated drivers. They might be a little drunk.”

At the promise of more autographs, Jack straightened. “Holy shit, yeah that’d be amazing. Thank you so much,” he stammered, grabbing a clear napkin from behind the bar and pulling a pen from his coat. “My friends are going to shit themselves.”

You squeezed Eddie’s hand when you saw it trembling as he signed with a flourish. Shooting you a grateful look, he walked Jack over to where Jeff and Gareth were chanting chug, chug, chug! at a teetering Liam.

Jesus, you sighed, rolling your eyes when Jeff’s excited hand swatted too close to Liam and he started coughing up the beer.

Turning back to your drink, you didn’t wait long before you felt Eddie’s palm at your lower back. “Well, that happened.”

Not missing a beat, you turned with a crumpled napkin and wide eyes. “Oh my God, sir, would you autograph my napkin too?”

Eddie laughed, shaking his head, and he shoved your shoulder. “Shut up,” he grumbled, motioning to the bartender for his own club soda. “You brat.”

Grinning, you bumped his shoulder with your own. “I’m glad I’ll be able to say I knew you when you were a nerdy freshman.”

“I’m still that nerdy freshman,” he huffed, “people just actually like my singing now.”

The band on stage switched to a fast paced song and the bar emptied a little as people flew to the dance floor. You couldn’t take your eyes off of him. They really deserved this. You crossed your fingers beneath the bar and hoped it was just the beginning.

“To be fair, I always liked your singing,” you told him, poking his chest. Eddie’s eyes shifted and you felt the same tightening again.

His eyes dropped back to yours, something new swimming in them, and your breath stuttered in your lungs. “I know you have,” he said, gaze darting across your face. “You’ve always been there for me.”

Not able to take the pressure in your sternum, you huffed. “And don’t forget that when you’re rich and famous, okay? I want a fancy BMW so I can taunt Steve with it.”

Eddie threw his head back and laughed. Instead of breaking the spell, your eyes drifted to his neck and you briefly thought about how appealing the muscles there were. Straightening so quickly that your spine audible snapped, you swallowed nervously.

What the fuck was that?

The look Eddie shot your way let you know that he’d caught whatever that was. Your mind raced in a thousand different directions but before you could choose a route to go down, a body pressed itself into your side.

“You guys, Jonathan puked,” Gareth said, matter of fact. “It was funny but then Steve started gagging.”

Liam joined in next, his eyes glazed. “Steve said he’s a sy-symp- sympat-” his face scrunched together when he realized he wasn’t getting the word out.

“He’s a sympathy puker?” You guessed, already knowing Steve wasn’t the best around puke. He was always the first domino to fall during hangover mornings.

“Ugh, you’re so smart,” Jeff complimented.

Brows rising, you elbowed Eddie. “Time to corral?” Sighing, Eddie nodded.

“Grab as many as you can and shove them into the right car,” he said, hands coming out to grab his bandmates before they could drift off. “Meet outside in ten?”

“Minutes?” You asked incredulously. “It’s going to take at least that long to get Steve to stop gagging.”

“Bet you five I can get them out in fifteen.”

Rolling your eyes, you slapped his outstretched hand. “That’s an easy win.”

And sure enough, you leaned against Steve’s car with an amused expression as Eddie tried for the fourth time to load Jeff into his van. You glanced at Robin, who was talking animatedly with Gareth about what sounded like cheese fries. A blur in the corner of your eye caught your attention and you watched Liam open the passenger door and pass Jonathan his joint.

“Jesus,” Eddie groaned, “okay you win, please, just-” he waved his hand towards your friends.

“Robin get in the car we have to go now,” you said firmly, knowing she was the hardest to convince but the one everyone would follow once she was.

Her expression morphed into indignation. “Gareth thinks bacon on fries is better than cheese! That’s – that’s treason.”

“Because it is better!” He said, clutching his head.

“Alright you two, you’re both right, how about that?” You turned to Gareth and glared until he simpered off towards Eddie without a backwards glance. “And you, into the car.”

“But-”

“I’ll tell everyone what you’re hiding in the box at the back of your closet,” you threatened. She paled and tripped in her hurry to the car. She knocked into a sleeping Nancy, who grunted when she landed in the middle seat with a loud thump.

“Byers, get your ass in gear or I’m telling Joyce!”

A sheepish Jonathan crawled into the car, jostling Robin who cried out and accidentally smacked a snoring Steve in the passenger seat. You quickly shut the door and locked them in. With a flourish, you took your bow and Eddie clapped. “I admit defeat o’great knight.”

“Knight in shining armor, please,” you clarified.

“Of course, of course.”

“You okay with your lot?” You asked, nodding to where Liam was starting to look a little green.

Eddie snorted. “Yeah, they’ll be fine. What about you?”

“Jonathan and Nancy live nearby, the rest of us are crashing at Steve’s. Like the good ol’ days,” you joked, shivering when a sudden cold gust of air blew your hair into your eyes.

A pair of hands came up to your arms, rubbing some warmth into them and you smiled. “Lucky, Gareth and Liam live in completely different directions,” he said with a roll of his eyes. You pointed to car behind him.

“You should lock them in before one makes a break for it,” you said, yawning and checking the time. Without giving you time to think, Eddie pulled you into a tight hug. Never needing a reason, you wrapped your arms around his waist and squeezed just as tightly back. His cold nose nudged your temple, inhaling deeply and you lean your face against his chest. His heartbeat fast and yours quickly matched its pace. With a soft sigh, Eddie let you go.

“Hey, but seriously, I’m so happy everyone else is finally seeing what I always did,” you told him, pinching one of his cheeks for levity.

Instead, he smiled at you softly. A small, little shy smile that made your heart flip. “Yeah?” His eyes softened, the brown deepening with his gaze. You felt your chest tighten painfully this time. Turning back to hop into your car, you rolled the window down and Eddie leaned into your space.

“Don’t let it get to your big head.” Eddie smiled at your barb but his eyes trailed down your face, the look in his gaze different. You leaned back to examine it but you couldn’t put your finger on it. “What?” His eyes darted back up to yours and it clicked. It looked like he knew something you didn’t.

A little surprised at what he saw there, he shook his head. “Nothing, nothing, see you tomorrow at work?” That sounded like a diversion. You had a full shift tomorrow but he was on towards the end at closing.

“Yeah,” you said, not sure you wanted to let go of this. As if sensing it, he surged forward to press a kiss to your cheek and you blinked, surprised.

“Drive home safe, call me when you get there, okay?” He said. “Leave a message if I’m not home yet. I won’t be able to sleep if I think you’re dead in a ditch somewhere.”

That, in the end, got a smile out of you. “Who would’ve thought you and Harrington would turn into the mothers of this ragtag group?”

“Hey,” he said, hands on his hips in a clear imitation of Steve, “you love it.”

“Yeah,” you said, starting your car and rolling up your window, “I do!”

5. Bringing you something just because it reminded them of you.

“Fuuuck,” you squawked, feet sliding out from under you. Bracing for the impact, your eyes flew open when Eddie’s hands slide through your underarms and steadied you. He pulled you up, your knees aching, and you both stilled.

“That…would’ve been bad,” you said quietly, looking down at the wet pavement outside the Wheeler’s house. Eddie’s eyes were wide, his gaze on the puddles.

“Note to self, slippery driveways might take down the mighty Nova but demobats are a walk in the park,” Eddie said, grinning when you whacked him.

“Ugh, they’re still outside,” Dustin shouted from the doorway, “come on, we’re taking a vote on which movie to watch first.”

Despite his teasing, you felt Eddie’s hand on your back – steady – as you followed Dustin towards the basement. Everyone was scattered, a few conversations going on at once. The party was back for the summer from college and, as tradition stated, a movie night was set on the first weekend.

El jumped up, grinning, and threw her arms around you. “Oh, hello,” you said, squeezing her tightly, “I’ve missed you.”

“Missed you,” she said into your shoulder, words muffled. You glanced up to see Max tucked into Eddie’s embrace. He smiled when they swapped and Max’s grip bruised you. Kissing her temple, you watched them tumble back onto the first couch – Mike and Lucas waving at you both.

You made to step towards a beaming Will when a hand on your elbow stopped you. “Hey, I forgot to give this to you yesterday at work,” Eddie said, hand ruffling around in bag. He grinned after a moment, pulling it out triumphantly. A small drawstring bag swung wildly for a moment before coming to a stop. The black suede looked soft and lumpy.

“We just started that gig out at Sold Out last week and we were looking for something to eat before we drove back. I saw this in the window of a store and thought of you,” Eddie said, making your heart flip. You reached for the bag, a gold necklace spilling out the mouth.

“It’s a sunflower,” you said, voice faint, thumb tracing the small blooming flower.

Eddie nodded, already rooting in his bag for something else. “You said that was Barb’s favorite flower, right?” Suddenly, it felt like the entire room had gone quiet.

“It was,” Nancy said, leaning over your shoulder to look at the pendant. “She loved them, her room was covered.” An old memory flashed through your mind.

You’d met Barb when you were six, in kindergarten. She’d shared her chocolate with you and picked you as a partner for nap time. She had a sweet smile and gave great hugs. She was good and kind, and you’d been angry at the world for taking her. For a lot of things.

“Sunflowers symbolize friendship. But really, they just make me smile.”

For a moment, just a brief second, you could hear her light laughter echo within your memory. Nancy’s soft smile let you know that you weren’t alone.

“I thought you’d like it,” he said with a smile and you knew he was thinking of the tulips you’d both left at Chrissy’s grave last week. “This way you can have her close by.”

Nancy helped you clasp it around your neck and smiled down at you. Sound filtered back in as she grunted and turned to the boys. “Don’t throw the remote!”

You scrambled to stand before Eddie could find a seat, your had grabbing his. He stilled, looking back at you – the unasked question on his lips. Taking a step forward for a hug, for a second time within a span of five minutes, you tripped on a forgotten figurine. Eddie cradled you to him, staggered, but steady.

“Okay, I stand corrected. Rainy driveways and dnd figurines,” he joked, the smile from his gaze fading when he realized how close you’d landed.

The world moved around you both in a blur. This moment, you in his arms, had happened hundreds of times. You’d known Eddie for years, both of you were affectionate people. But this…was different. Time slowed and you felt Eddie’s pulse ricochet within your own, his lips parting in surprise. You eyes darted down to the movement, his lips chapped and in this bubble you’d created – a thought crossed your mind.

You wanted to press yours to his. You wanted to press every part of you against his.

Then, quickly, a second thought rose from your subconscious.

This wasn’t the first time you’d wanted to kiss him. It wasn’t the first time that your heart felt like it would burst at the sight of him. You liked the way your skin felt electrified at his touch. The way he always seemed to focus on you. The way you both always gravitated towards each other, like sunflowers bending towards the sun. Your eyes dipped lower and you felt a lump form in your throat. The way…you were dying to bite into that tattoo on his neck. The way you wondered if he’d squirm against you. If he’d push you into the-

Holy fucking shit, you loved Eddie. You were in love with Eddie. Your best friend. How the fuck had you been so blind?

Stumbling, you staggered back from his touch – not able to think clearly with him so close. You ripped your arms away from him and greedily sucked in air.

“What’s wrong?” Eleven asked you, realizing you were all but hyperventilating.

Pulse roaring in your ears, you didn’t know what to say. Dumbstruck, your limbs went numb as you finally met Eddie’s worried eyes. He stilled at the sight of your expression and suddenly the rug was pulled completely out from under you because he knew. The look in his eyes was one of complete and total understanding.

And you knew that he knew - and he knew that you knew that he knew.

Your mind flashed back to the moment outside the bar a few months ago. That look in his eyes. The way he’d been acting strange recently. He looked at you like he knew something you didn’t. Struck, you’d honestly be less shocked if the ground opened up and Vecna swallowed you whole.

His own panic flooding his face, he took a step forward.

“No!” You shouted, a touch too loud, your soul flying out your body and staring down at the situation with terror.

“Wait, just wait,” Eddie stammered, hands raised like he was approaching a scared animal. “Let’s talk about it.”

“Oh shit,” you heard Dustin mutter. The rest of room went silent.

Robin groaned, a soft thump following. “Oh no, this isn’t good.”

“Right now?” Steve hissed. “What the hell changed?”

“What the hell is happening?” Lucas grumbled.

Max sighed. “She just realized she’s in love with him.”

Eleven’s eyes widened and Lucas frowned. “Congratulations on being the last one to find out,” he said and somehow that made it worse. Your face crumpled and everyone’s glare turned towards him.

“Jesus Sinclair, have you heard of tact?”

Were you the absolute last person to know?

He was your best friend – you couldn’t, this would ruin everything. Oh God, what if he’d known and he never said anything because he didn’t feel the same? What if he did? You honestly didn’t know which was scarier.

As your friends descended into chaos, you glanced back at Eddie and found him frozen too. Overwhelmed and feeling like you’d been knocked around the ring a few times, you let your flight instinct take over. Taking the stairs two at a time, you were at the basement door in seconds.

Chaos erupted behind you.

You were at the door and fucking Christ, you couldn’t breathe. Why couldn’t you breathe? Was the ground shaking?

“Stay here,” you heard Eddie bark at everyone, his had tone not leaving any room for argument. Despite it all, you felt the zing of something travel down your spine at the sound of it. Before you could even analyze it for what it was, it triggered another fresh wave of panic.

You knew he’d be close behind, but you were used to running for your life at this point. Practically racing down the driveway, you scrambled into your car and slammed the door shut. Your first mistake was trying to still your shaking hand to get it into the ignition.

A body half-slammed into your passenger door and you screamed, terror taking over your rational side for a moment.

“Sorry! I’m sorry! The fucking grass is wet and I slipped,” Eddie said, backing up with his palms up. “Nova, please, don’t go. Not like this. I-”

“Nope!” You said, feeling like a stupid child but you weren’t able to process right now. You’d known Eddie since you were fourteen. That was a decade. How the fuck had you been so blind? “I can’t – Eddie, I can’t! Just give me a second, okay? I need – I need to process. Alone.”

The world felt like it was crumbling. Like you were back in the hell hole, clinging to Steve and Eddie for balance as the ground shook beneath you. Oh God, this was going change everything.

Your second mistake was turning to look at him. The knot in your chest tightened beyond belief at the sight of the heartbreak in his eyes. A flash of movement brought your attention to the several heads peeking out from the windows. Eddie’s head whipped around and you could feel his glare from where you sat. “Jesus Christ, does anyone know what privacy means?” You knew it was bad when you couldn’t even muster up a smile.

“Nov…”

Like a cornered animal, you felt tears well up. “Please. I’m sorry. Please Eddie, please.” Panic clawed up your throat, threatening to pull you under. Black dots danced across your vision.

He smiled and your heart broke at the emptiness in it. “Yeah, Nov, it’s okay. I’ll go back inside, just- take a few deep breaths before you go. Okay? Don’t drive like this. Just, deep breathing, remember?”

You slammed your eyes shut; you didn’t have the strength to look at him anymore. You nodded, taking an unsteady deep inhale. How was it possible that you were the one running and he was still thinking of you?

Not sure how long you sat there but by the time you opened your eyes, your tremor had settled and Eddie was gone. Taking a deep breath, you turned your car on and peeled away from the Wheeler house.

It took Robin and Steve exactly ten hours before they showed up on your doorstep.

“I know you’re in there asshole, open up!” Robin screamed.

Jesus. You flung the door open and glared. “I have neighbors.”

“You look like shit,” Robin said, matter a fact, with a small smile on her face. You groaned, dropping your face into your palms and Steve sighed.

“For fuck’s sake Robin, it hasn’t even been a day,” he said, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and guiding you to the couch.

Not one to ever be excluded, Robin smushed herself next to you. Her thigh pressed against yours and you found yourself stuck between your two friends – friends you hadn’t ever been good at lying to.

“I know why you’re here,” you started.

Robin snorted. “Well duh, what’d you think? That we got up at nine in the morning to come wish you a good morning? Even Dingus knows better than that.”

Biting back a laugh at her quick retort, you caught Steve’s exasperated glance and nearly broke. “Do not enable the behavior,” he hissed. “How do you feel?”

What a loaded question.

“I feel a little numb. Sort of, like, if I don’t acknowledge this is happening then it isn’t,” you said, pinching the bridge of your nose, “which, I guess, is what got us both into this mess in the first place.”

Robin’s expression softened and you sighed. “I’m just…I feel embarrassed mostly. I didn’t mean to be so dramatic – I just…I was so overwhelmed and it felt like I was drowning. You were all staring at us and I couldn’t think – I couldn’t breathe.”

“Hey, give yourself some credit,” Robin said, “you needed space and time and you asked for it. Everyone needs to understand that boundary.”

“Except for you two,” you joked weakly.

Robin huffed, waving a hand in the air. “We don’t have boundaries-”

“-we should though-” Steve muttered.

“-once you’re tortured by Russians together, you’re bonded for life,” Robin continued, ignoring Steve’s scrunched expression.

They started to bicker good-naturedly and your mind drifted to Eddie. You felt horrible but it didn’t override your need to crawl under the covers and hide yourself from the world. The one question on your mind refused to be put to rest.

“How could I have been so blind?” You wondered, not realizing you’d said it out loud until Robin leaned some of her weight onto you.

Steve pulled himself closed to the edge so he could turn to look at you. His gaze was gentle, eyes on you. “I mean this genuinely with no judgement, but how could you not have noticed?”

You threw your hands out, Robin dodging your left one expertly. “I don’t know! I think I knew on some level and just ignored it? Its…scary, feelings this big for someone who’s your best friend. I’m so scared, I don’t want to lose him,” you admitted quietly. Steve sighed and you glanced at him. “When did you guys know?”

Steve frowned but Robin spoke first. “To be fair, I don’t think Eddie knew right away either. At least not that I could see and we’ve known each other for a while now too. I realized sophomore year,” she said. “You always had those damn starbursts around. I know your favorites are the red ones because Dustin tried to take one from your stash and you almost chewed his hand off.”

A pile of starbursts were tossed onto your kitchen counter now. “So?” You asked, confused at the connection.

“They’re Eddie’s favorites too and you always let him grab them. I don’t think he even knows you do that, to this day. Let’s not forget how any time either of you ever went on a date or, God forbid, had a relationship, the other was always in a constant mood.”

Before that could sink in, Steve stirred. “I realized when he’d come to visit you at Scoops. Remember when I’d smushed that sundae into you. We were waiting on Robin to come back, worried about the Russians and you’d insisted on staying to help us. You had finally decided I was worthy and we were laughing about something stupid Dustin had said.”

You knew what moment he was talking about – you’d forgotten to call Eddie and tell him you didn’t need a ride home anymore. He’d arrived, on time as always, and walked in on you and Steve wrestling over some spilled ice cream.

“I turned with your ice cream too fast and hit your chin. I was trying to clean it off but you’d taken a handful and shoved it down my uniform. Dustin was practically on the floor laughing and I was chasing you with the bowl. Eddie walked in and instantly hated me. I knew he thought I was flirting with you, which I wasn’t. It was something in the way he looked at me. He wasn’t mad that he thought I liked you, he was mad because he thought I wasn’t worth your time – you know? He wasn’t even jealous, just protective,” he said with a shrug. “With you, it took a while, I think. I wasn’t sure if you felt the same for some time. Not until I knew you better.”

“Oh,” you said, throat dry. “Did everyone know but me?”

Steve bumped your shoulder amicably. “Maybe. It’s obvious to everyone now but it’s because it’s like you’re two magnets. The second the other is in the vicinity, your gravitate together. It’s…natural, almost. Something you’d expect,” he nodded, blinking down at you. “Does that make sense?”

“No,” you said petulantly at the same time Robin nodded.

Rolling her eyes, she grasped your hands and squeezed them. It was reminiscent of that moment in the emergency room, her eyes wide but determined.

“What do you want to do about it?”

You shook your head. “Too big a question.”

Steve took over. “Okay…how do you feel? You can love him as your friend, or be in love with him as a person, but if you don’t want to risk that – it’s up to you. We can have our own opinions-”

“-that you two need to get your heads out of your asses-” Robin said, expression furrowing.

“-but,” he said, shooting her a look, “it’s your choice.”

Feeling like your chest would explode with it, you abruptly stood, needing the space to pace a hole in your carpet. Chewing on your nail, you flung another hand in the air and frowned. “Of course I love him, how could I not? He’s…he’s Eddie. He’s my Eddie. Sometimes, at night, before going to bed I think about it you know. I think about how we were too close to be just best friends. We did things that went far past platonic and it was addicting. I – fuck. I love him. I love him.”

Shoving Steve’s hand off her shoulder, Robin stood, her arms coming down to your shoulders and shaking you. “So, I ask again, what do you want to do about it?”

You started to shake your head but she shut it down. “No, enough with this. You’re the bravest of us all. What do you want to do about it?”

“Robin-”

She waved a hand in Steve’s direction, her blue eyes turning sharp. “Say it.”

The knot in your chest choked you as you swallowed nervously. You wrung your hands together but you knew. You didn’t feel unsettled and panicked because you didn’t want him – you felt off kilter because he wasn’t here. You’d run away when you really wanted to just be with him. You’d hurt the one person you never wanted to hurt.

“I want – I want to tell him. I need to tell him!” You said, spine straightening.

Robin smiled. “There she is.”

“Oh my God,” you said, hands coming up to your face. “I just ran away; he must be freaking out.”

Steve stood, grabbing a yellow starburst. “He was a little…freaked out.”

Guilt flooded you as Robin glared at him.

“Shit, I need to talk to him. Right now. Where’re my shoes? I need to go!” You ran around your living room, frantically looking for your converse.

How the fuck could you have just left him behind? Without telling him – without saying the words. Suddenly, you remembered.

“Fuck! He’s in Indianapolis,” you said, slumping into a nearby chair, “he won’t be back until Sunday night.”

Steve frowned, his hands inching towards a red starburst and you shot him a glare.

“I’m distressed but not dead, get your hands off the red ones,” you snapped.

Robin laughed, knowing glint in her eyes and she grabbed a set of keys from your front table. “You have a fucking car and Indianapolis is three hours away, not across the country. Get what you need and let’s go.”

.

“Get off, you’re squishing me!” Max hissed at Lucas.

“Where do you want me to go? It’s a small car!”

“Will you two shut up?” Dustin snapped.

Robin sighed from the passenger seat and you took the same left as Steve did ahead of you. “You know, I don’t know why you all thought it’d be fun to make this into a group road trip,” she sighed, “you really don’t know how to mind your business!”

You snorted at the hypocrisy of the situation and she shot you a look. Shutting up, you made sure to stay behind the maroon BMW.

“We can’t miss this,” Dustin stressed, “he’s been in love with her for the entire time I’ve known him. I can’t deal with all the pining anymore. I get to see this through!”

You glared at him through the mirror. “We are not a soap opera to entertain yourself with,” you snapped.

By the time you’d made it out to your car, the rest of the party had managed to bike to your apartment with their own nosy agendas. Once they’d found out you were going to drive down to Eddie’s gig, they climbed into your cars – not leaving room for arguing. Because God forbid any of you do something without the entire party knowing.

“You probably won’t even be let in, this is a twenty one or older bar. As in, where they serve alcohol.”

“So?”

Robin shifted around to glare at them. “As in, you’re all not twenty-one yet?”

“Robin, please, what do you take us for? Rookies?” Dustin asked, his brow quirking. “I’m basically Corroded Coffin’s manager-”

“-you’re really not,” you said, thinking of Charlie, Gareth’s cousin who handled all the gigs and scheduling.

“-and I’ve got passes to all their gigs, it’ll be easy.”

Sharing a look with Robin, she shrugged. “Whatever, don’t whine about it to me when you’ve got to stay in the car the whole time.”

Not twenty minutes later, you both rolled your eyes at Dustin’s smug look as the bouncer let them all through with bright green bands indicating they couldn’t be served alcohol.

“Shut up,” Robin hissed.

“What time is it?” You asked, grabbing Steve’s wrist. “Shit, they go on soon – I think I can still catch them backstage.”

“Go, go!” Robin urged, shoving you forward.

Shouldering your way through the crowd, you were astounded at how packed the bar was. Determined, you kept slipping through the restless horde of people. You’d gotten halfway through when a loud strum stopped you. The crowd came alive, cheering and screaming as Eddie sauntered on stage.

Your heart dropped at the sight of the bags under his eyes. “Hello Indianapolis! How are you all tonight?”

The crowd went wild and you were jostled forward, right towards the front. Eddie was a few feet away and you sighed. Of course.

The band went through with introducing themselves, like they always did before starting, and you resigned yourself to catching him after their set. You watched Eddie swing his guitar over his shoulder, adjusting the strap. You don’t know how, in the sheer amount of people in the crowd, but as his eyes swept across the front row – they zeroed in on you.

Surprised, you blinked up at him. His answering grin was so wide, it cracked your heart further. Your breath rushed right out your lungs. Frozen, you stared up at him, and wondered how you could have ever been so blind as to not notice the way your heart always leapt around him. It rattled around in your ribcage, like a police siren. Him, we want him, it shouted at you, grinning up at you when you tried to knock it back into place.

I know, I know we do, you told it.

Of course you loved him, it was Eddie. How could you ever have thought otherwise? You wanted his friendship, because that was the most important part, but you wanted more. You’d always wanted more and you weren’t going to let fear keep you from reaching for it.

Eyes not leaving yours, he grabbed the mic again. “So, I have someone important in the audience today – someone who means a lot to me. She hasn’t heard our newest cover yet but, it’s one of her favorite songs. I’ll admit, it’s never been one of mine but I changed it around a little for her and hope you all like it too.”

Raising your brows at the first few notes, you couldn’t keep your delirious laugh in when you heard him start singing.

“Ooh, baby, do you know what that's worth?

Ooh, Heaven is a place on Earth.”

Eddie’s voice lowered as he rasped out the vowels, the drums transforming the song entirely.

You watched Eddie transform, he always put his entire being into the performance and you loved watching him relish in it. Bobbing your head to the song, you danced alongside the three girls to your left.

Catching his eyes towards the end, he grinned as he inhaled.

“In this world, we're just beginnin'

To understand the miracle of livin'

Baby, I was afraid before

But I'm not afraid anymore.”

A smile made it’s way onto your face as you shook your head and you knew he’d caught it by his laugh. Staying right in the middle, with the crowd’s energy pulsing around you, you sat through the entire set.

As Metallica rung through the speakers, you knew it was their closing song. Eddie nodded towards the side door and you started to make your way there.

The guard at the door stood at your approach but the door behind him opened in time for you to catch Charlie’s smile. “She’s good,” she told him, “whenever you see her around this summer, let her through. She’s with Munson.”

The burly guard smiled then. “Oh, you’re his girl? Don’t worry, I never forget a face.” He waved you through and you knew she could read the mild embarrassment in your eyes.

“Don’t worry, I won’t pry,” she said, elbowing you, “but I’m happy for you two. Anyone with eyes can tell you’re gone on each other.”

Right.

“I’ve got to help them pack but you’ve been to the green room in the back – he’ll come by when they’re done.”

Thanking her, you stumbled your way there – nerves finally taking over you. You should’ve thought about what to say – how to say it. God, why did you feel so awkward? You’d fought monsters from another dimension but you couldn’t tell your best friend that you loved him?

The door suddenly burst open and Eddie came in, guitar still in hand and hair stuck to his skin. “Hey you,” you said, standing from the velvet couch. “You were amazing.”

“Yeah?” Eddie said hopefully, putting the familiar guitar down and turning his full attention to you. “I thought you weren’t going to come.”

“There was a full house, I – I’m so happy for you guys. Are you booked full for tomorrow night too?” You asked despite knowing the answer. You needed a moment, just a brief moment of normalcy before you flung yourself off the metaphorical cliff.

Eddie nodded, a ghost of a smile flashing across his face. He knew. He knew that you knew that he knew. Because of course he did. But he was letting you take this at your pace, because Eddie never did anything you didn’t want to. He always let you lead.

He opened his mouth, no doubt ready to let you distract yourself, but you were done with the pretenses.

“Fuck it,” you said, surging forward. A flash of surprise was the last thing you saw before you slammed Eddie into the wall and pressed your lips to his.

Finally! Your heart sang, finally, we’re home.

Eddie took a second but after a beat he met you just as fiercely. His grip was bruising on your waist, his other hand coming up to the back of your neck. Not giving him a chance to take the lead from you, you ran your fingers through his hair and pulled his head back. He moaned and the sound shot straight to your stomach. Butterflies in full force, you leaned back, out of breath and saw the dazed look in his eyes.

“Nova,” he begged, unseeing eyes darting around your face. “Nova.”

“I know,” you said, right before you dove back in and pressed open mouth kisses to his neck. And then, after all these years, you finally sunk your teeth into the meaty part of his neck. Right at the base of the skull tattoo. Eddie jerked, as if electrocuted, and shoved you back. Stumbling, you let him cradle your jaw, the other lowering you onto the couch.

Needing more, you whimpered and Eddie grinned. His knee pushed up between your legs and the pressure was amazing. Your hips stuttered, bumping into his and you both hissed. His teeth worried the sensitive skin of your neck and you whined as he lapped at the bruise he left.

“Eddie,” you gasped, “Eddie, please.”

His forehead came down to your shoulder, his chest heaving like he’d run a marathon, and you both just breathed the other in. At your nudging, he dropped his weight onto you and you jerked at the hardness you felt by your hip.

“Sorry,” he said, not sounding at all sorry. “The amount of adrenaline going through me right now-”

“It’s okay,” you assured him, hand drifting down his side but Eddie caught it. “I can help,” you offered. Jesus, you wanted to help if the pressure between your legs was any indication. Eddie’s face softened, his eyes drifting down your face and he groaned.

“I want that too but, maybe we should talk first? Before going past the no return point?”

You blinked. “Munson, I’m past the no return point,” you said, matter of fact. And it was true. There was no going back now.

His answering smile blinded you and you heart threatened to burst at the happiness you found there. “Yeah?” He asked, tone a little uneven.

You nodded, fingers trailing down his face. Eddie lifted himself off you, sitting on the couch and pulling you into his lap. “Yeah, me too.”

“When did you realize? And why didn’t you tell me?” You asked, ripping the band aid off.

“Because I was scared,” he admitted, “I...think I’ve always loved you. From that moment in the hallway when you chased away Tommy and his gang of assholes. You took one look at me and I think I was yours. I didn’t want to ruin what we had but there were times where I’d catch us in moments and I thought yeah, this could work. I wanted it so badly but I didn’t want to lose you. Then, years later, I realized you felt it too. I just, wanted you to get there on your own. I never wanted you to feel like you had no choice or no out. You’ll always have me, in any form you want me.”

Your heart melted. “You’re killing me,” you groaned, dropping your forehead to his shoulder.

Eddie laughed, his chest rumbling with it. “I’m sorry but, it’s the truth.”

“I know I’ve said it before but, I love you Eddie. How could I not?” You said, cradling his jaw in your hand.

Eddie pressed his lips to yours, eyes suspiciously red, and you decided to be mature enough and not tease him.

“Hey, you didn’t answer the first question. When did you really realize?”

“To be fair, it took me a while. Everyone knew I hated Mason,” he said and you thought back to your first boyfriend who’d moved to Texas your junior year, “which made the guys tease the shit out of me but I think I fully realized it for our senior prom. I was so bummed that you were going off to college and I was stuck in Hawkins. Then, you managed to blackmail Higgins into letting me go-”

“I didn’t blackmail him, I just asked,” you laughed.

“-I knew you knew I was upset and I could tell you wanted to cheer me up. But then you did that stupid promposal-”

“Hey!”

“And you had that big bouquet of daisies. And it hit me like a fucking truck, I’m not going to lie. That’s why – I don’t blame you. It was a lot,” he said, his fingers trailing down your cheek. “We’d been friends for years at that point. It was both shocking and stupidly obvious. How could I not have realized? It took you, standing in that meadow behind my old trailer, that massive glitter poster and those flowers. It was like…lightning. One moment I was totally oblivious and then the next, I just knew.”

“Is that why you never dated anyone after that? I thought you were hung up on Joan,” you said, thinking back on the girl he dated through high school.

He smiled, looking down at you. “No, I’ve always been yours. You’re branded on my soul, Supernova. From that first moment in that old gross hallway.”

“How did you know that I felt the same? I didn’t even know.”

Your heart sung, breath completely stolen at the look he gave you. “I mean, I didn’t know-” You leaned back to shoot him a look and he snorted. “There wasn’t an exact moment! After you went to Indie State and we’d hang out there were just small moments, I promise. Like, how you’d wait up for my call when I got home after visiting you. Or, how you stayed up all night to help me study for my finals – like two years in a row. Or that time that I caught the flu and you hit every pharmacy in Indiana getting me what I needed. Or the way Wayne just downright loves you – there’s no competition. You’re his favorite.”

“Because I bring him baked goods,” you said, laughing.

Eddie smiled. “Yeah, but he’s always loved you because you care. You just – you do all these little things and I didn’t notice until I did. I don’t know.”

You mulled that over and realized he was right. The way Eddie would steer you away from sharp corners, or always made sure you walked on the opposite side of the curb. How he always knew your order or how you liked you take your coffee. You flashed back to his broken body and how you’d snapped and lost it. How he’d only thought of making sure you were okay when he woke up.

In hindsight, you realized, he was right. It wasn’t one big moment. It was a lot of little ones.

“I’m sorry it took me so long to get there,” you whispered, thumb tracing his bottom lip, “I’m sorry for leaving you at the Wheeler’s house. I should’ve been braver.”

“You are brave,” he whispered back, “I knew you just needed time. Besides, I was going to give you a week before I hunted you down.”

Laughing, you wrapped your arm around his shoulder, the other played with his necklace. “Yeah?” You felt suddenly shy.

“Yeah. Even if I was wrong and you didn’t feel the same way,” he shrugged, “I wasn’t scared enough to let you go. Romantic or platonic, Nova, we’re for life. Between Vecna and surviving ninth grade gym class together, we’re practically trauma bonded at this point.”

You laughed realizing you’d already had a lifetime of experiences with him. Eyes trailing down his content expression, you kissed the corner of his mouth. But a lifetime wasn’t enough. You wanted more. And you’d have more – you had all the time in the world.

“Yeah, Munson, we’re for life,” you agreed and leaned back down to kiss him.

Because hey, even he was right sometimes.

A/N: thank you all so much for the comments on my other fic, you cannot imagine what it means to me! This is the cover I was thinking of if anyone's interested.

[domsaysstuff]

Okay so this idea has been rocking around my empty skull for some time now just we know that Eddie can be a pretty mean DM and a shithead and I've been thinking abt romances in D&D and how it would work in Hellfire

And I had this thought that Eddie would like be "no romances!!" to the Corroded Coffin group (before the kids joined) and they're like why? and Eddie just to tease them says that he doesn't want to pretend to fall for their smelly ugly faces

Which just motivates them to try and seduce like every character that Eddie introduces for a fucking month and it leads to the creation of the rule: Every romance/seduction directed roll must be rolled above 15 to succeed AND if Eddie decides that the attempt is particularly bad the roll is with disadvantage

The Corroed Coffin boys are obviously teasingly like ohhh so we get an advantage if it's good?

"Doubt that would happen boys, but sure, if you make me, Eddie fucking Munson, to blush like a fair maiden then you'll get the advantage on the roll"

They try, they really do, but all the CC boys succeed in doing is killing off all of their party in three sessions and Gareth who is a little shit is actually rolling his third character (because the consequences of a failure are fucking brutal) by the time Jeff and [unnamed freak] give up

After that they know better (except Gareth who still sometimes does that just to annoy Eddie and be a little shit) to try and then the kids join Hellfire and Eddie has even less of an desire to flirt with fucking Wheeler, Henderson and Sinclair (they're baby children!!)

But the kids are a little shits too and they see Gareth being a little shit so they copy

It ends badly for them, they gripe about Eddie being unfair because like "all three of us have girlfriends Eddie and you don't so we clearly know more about romance then you do" Dustin not only gets a flick on the head for that but his character might have ended up being put into situations™ throughout the session that are "totally unfair!"

But fair to say all of Hellfire knows the rules and all of hellfire knows that no matter how well they try and how smooth they are (they really aren't ever smooth) Eddie will not blush or even consider they attempts as "good", the best they got was "tolerable" (Lucas got it and he's still very proud of it, as he deserves okay?), Eddie is impossible to fluster and so it's just is this fun thing they sometimes do when they feel particularly like little shits

And that's it about it

Until Vecna and all the upside down shit and the surprising friendship of Eddie and Steve happens

And suddenly Steve Harrington is not only sitting but playing D&D

Everything is going actually pretty good and Dustin practically vibrates out of his chair at how proud he is of Steve for how well he is doing so far and then

And then Steve tries to flirt with a pretty bard

Dustin deflates, he is ready for the absolute disaster that is going to fall upon Steve, he makes eye contact with Lucas - both of them ready with "it was actually a pretty good line tho!" at the tip of their tongues to defend Steve's decisions, he doesn't know Eddie's special rules after all and it would be funny to see Steve fail, sure, but it's Steve's first game and the kids wanted it to be good for Steve so convincing him to play again would be easier

But now Eddie is going to absolutely rip into him and Steve will never want to play again and-

"Roll with advantage" Dustin gasps, audibly, loudly, the room is silent, except for Steve who's very unaware of the chaos he just created and just rolls the dices, his usual confidence in place

And if someone looked closely - and all of the hellfire is fucking looking - Eddie Munson has indeed a light blush on his face

[fandoms-in-law]

Muddy Letters - The Re-Beginning

Authors Note: I have 2 possible summaries for this fic and neither really work for posting it all in one story. Instead both the summary I want to use and the story is in 3 parts: The Re-Beginning (you are here), The Beginnging, The Conclusion

Contrary to normal expectations, I suggest reading the Re-beginning first.

Summary: It begins again with Dustin helping Steve pack up his room.

/\/\

Dustin hadn’t been snooping. He Hadn’t! He’d been helping Steve pack his room up, going through the drawers just like he’d been asked to, barely even looking at the bank statement, photo albums, love letters never given to Nancy and, okay, maybe he was using helping as an excuse to snoop.

This discovery was one he wouldn’t have been able to ignore even if he wasn’t snooping.

Why would Steve keep a bundle of muddy envelopes? Also why would he have wrapped it in a velvet black ribbon?

Just the appearance of the bundle had Dustin confounded and curious.

He was going to read whatever letters were in the envelopes and had already undone the ribbon when Steve returned with cookies and drinks for them. “Where’d you find those? I’ve been looking for them.” He asked, immediately taking the letters away, almost before the tray was set down.

“Middle drawer. What are they?” He asked, trying to take one back.

Steve glared, pulling them further away. “Private. And letters from a childhood friend.”

“Come on, you can trust me.” Dustin tried to coax only to freeze when the glare deepened.

“Not with secrets that aren’t mine to share.” The words were final and hung in the air for a moment until Steve handed one of the cookies to Dustin and stood, taking the letters out of the room with him.

~

The muddy letters stayed on Dustin’s mind as he finished packing the drawers and helped Steve pack his clothes into 3 suitcases and a charity donations bag. By the time they paused for lunch, he wanted to know more again.

“Does Robin know about the letters?” He asked, certain she was the only person possible closer to Steve than he was.

“No, but she’d agree with me keeping the secrets in them.” The reply was barely thought about as a knock came on the door.

Letting himself in, Eddie greeted them, leaning close to Steve, “You look tense, Stevie. Has Dustin been that annoying?”

With a heavy breath, Steve relaxed, “Not really, just found something I thought I’d lost.”

“Sounds mysterious. Can I know what?” Dustin perked up at the questions, hoping he’d also get answers over the letters now.

Instead Steve stood, “I’ll show you. Just don’t take them from me?” He asked, glancing over sharply when Dustin moved to follow them. “Dustin, stay here and eat your lunch or I’ll take you home right now.”

He groaned, sitting down again. “It’s not fair to leave me out of this.” He called after them before focusing on hearing everything he could without leaving the kitchen.

There wasn’t much he could hear at first, indistinct voices as they chatted until Eddie exclaimed “That was you?”

Silence fell then and if Dustin had been less concerned over Steve’s unexpected strictness, he’d have gone to find them, ask what was Steve and if it explained anything about the muddy bundle.

~

It felt like forever before Steve and Eddie returned and he was glaring as soon as he could hear their footsteps. “So I can’t see them, but you immediately tell Eddie what they are?”

“Didn’t need to. All I told him was that I have them.” Steve countered, “And you don’t know, or need to know, everything about my life.”

Dustin frowned, slouching in his seat, “Can you at least tell me why they’re covered in mud?”

“I was an outdoorsy kid.” The sentence didn’t explain anything so far as Dustin was concerned and he was set on reading those letters now.

“Eurgh, why are you being so secretive.” He complained, hoping that would get Steve to realise this was a jerk move.

Eddie laughed, expression clearly seeing what he was trying and knowing it would fail when Dustin looked over at him, recognising a moment after that it had been the condescending laugh he used for royal NPCs. “King’s can have their secrets courtiers aren’t informed of, Dusty. Drop the interrogation before it stops being amusing.”

“Fine,” He pouted before brightening as an idea came to mind, “You’re going to need help unpacking in your new place, right Steve?”

Even as Steve and Eddie focused on discussing this move, Dustin was thinking about the letters and how he’d find a way to read them.

~

“Did you know Steve and Eddie have secrets, Robin?” Dustin asked, hurrying over as soon as he entered Family Video and didn’t see Steve anywhere.

She looked over at him, uninterested, “Yeah. They’ve mentioned it.”

“And you aren’t asking more?” He exclaimed, astounded by her lack of interest.

“Nope.” She straightened only to shrug. “They’ve told me enough and invoked Scoops. I’m not pushing for those secrets.”

Dustin frowned. If it was Erica invoking Scoops meant ice cream. If he did it to Steve, it was usually either wanting back up or to remind Steve he’s important. He’d never considered what invoking Scoops meant between Steve and Robin because it hadn’t happened before. It wasn’t nice to discover that it meant secrets stay secret.

“I’m going to find out what they’re hiding.” He resolved and left without the film he’d meant to rent.

[stevie-petey]

stug stug stug pleaseee i would LOVE to see something where bug is comforting steve maybe he had a fight w his dad or j in general. i’m so excited for season 4! but obvi take your time j know that we’re all very excited bc we just know that you will blow us away with your writing!!

really missin happy steve and bug so im writin this <33

enjoy !

"i dont think it looks that bad."

"youre a terrible liar, y/n."

"im not lying!" but the way your voice pitches gives it all away, and steve knows it.

"im ruined." he drops his head into your lap, burying his face in the flesh of your thigh. partially because hes mourning the loss of his hair, but mostly because he adores your thighs and revels in them whenever he can.

steve is in mourning. he can be as selfish as he wants when it comes to your thighs. its his god given right as your boyfriend.

knowing what hes doing, you shove steves face away from your thighs, though not unkindly. youre still shy around him, his touch against your bare skin foreign after only a month of dating. steve is gentle and patient with you, he understands that youve never really been in a relationship before, so he takes his time with you.

secretly, you adore how gentle he is. how cautiously he skims his fingers over your waist or how softly he breathes against your neck. it makes everything easier, lighter, for you. to be loved so tenderly without any falsehood behind it.

lost in your honey warmth of love for steve, your fingers tangle through his hair. that is, whats left of it. steves chest faces you, the hem of his shirt has lifted slightly during his complaining. soft skin spills out from underneath, revealing a plush tummy. with a mind of their own, your eyes draw down the lines of his abdomen. a low hum stirs in your own stomach.

"are you seriously checking me out right now?" steve taps your nose with his finger, snapping you out of your daze. "i mean, here i am, the love of your life, mourning the loss of beautiful hair that was taken from us too soon, and youre drooling over me."

you flick his forehead, he scrunches his face, and its familiar and lovely. "i wasnt drooling, i just wasnt listening to your dramatic despair."

steve gasps, hand over his chest. "my hair was murdered!"

"honey, only like, two inches were cut off."

well, more like three, but you wont tell him that.

somehow one of the kids, almost certainly mike, left their chewed up gum on the counter top of family video when they visited earlier today. they came in like a storm, turning the place upside down before you, robin, or steve could even stop them. apparently dustin had wanted a new movie, will was bored, lucas wanted max to go outside, and el forced mike to join because shes never seen a movie store before.

the wreckage they left behind for such simple reasons for even entering the store in the first place had astounded you.

then, because steve is always perpetually suffering the consequences of the partys actions the most, had dropped his head down onto the counter top in exhaustion as soon as they left.

right in the same spot the gum had been left.

never before have you ever seen steve crumble to the floor quite so suddenly. it was comical, really. the way he shrieked in horror while you and robin watched, neither having any idea what had just happened.

which leads you to now: consoling steve as you comb through his newly cut hair.

"what, are you implying two inches isnt a huge amount of length?" steve raises an eyebrow at you, teasing, and you blush furiously. sparing you, he doesnt point it out and instead changes the topic. "i hate those little heathens, i really do."

"how do we know one of them is the gum culprit?"

"because theyre cursed little shitheads who always mar my appearance one way or another." then, as an afterthought, steve adds, "plus that wheeler kid has a weird obsession with watermelon gum."

again you try to defend the kids, even though you know it was most definitely mike. sure, he shouldnt have left his gum on the counter, but it was funny. "and how do we know it was watermelon gum?"

"i could smell it when robin was cutting all my hair off, angel."

"and yet youre as handsome as ever!" you press a purposely messy kiss atop of steves head, blowing slightly into his face and making a dramatic kissing sound when you pull away. anything to distract him from realizing it was all mikes fault.

gotta protect the little shithead somehow.

steve shrieks, reminiscent of the shriek from earlier, and shoves you away as he wipes at his face. "ew!"

"how dare you wipe my kiss away, steve harrington."

"you spit on me!"

"lovingly."

steve rolls onto his stomach and throws himself onto you. now its your turn to shriek as he throws his weight on top of you, tackling you onto his bed. luckily his parents arent home, otherwise theyd have some very horrified questions.

"steve!" you land with a soft thud on his pillows, and he smiles up from above you. hes all proud, his cheeks flushed a pretty pink, and his eyes shine with adoration for you.

hes beautiful. you cant believe hes yours.

"youre supposed to be comforting me, angel!" steve presses himself down even more, rendering you unable to move and wiggle away from him. you squeal when his hands find your sides, fingers digging into your skin as he tickles you. "i mean, im wounded here!"

you squeal with laughter as his hands attack you, mercilessly, yet gentle nonetheless. "s-steve! stop!"

"not until you apologize to my hair."

"your hair?" more laughter rips from your chest, ribs aching.

"mhm, tell my hair that its still handsome. his feelings are hurt." steve buries his nose into your neck, causing you to giggle even more, and the sound encases his body and reminds him of everything good and lovely.

you try to pull away, but steve has you pinned. "youre-ah! youre such an-an idiot!"

"that doesnt sound like an apology, y/n."

finally giving up, you force out an apology in between breaths of laughter. "i-im sorry! your-your hair is handsome!"

steves fingers leave your sides, but he pulls you deep into his chest and collapses upon you. he nuzzles into your neck, wraps his hands around you, tries to meld the two of you into one. "much better," he mumbles into your skin.

"your hair really is handsome, you know." you draw circles into steves back, breath slowly returning to normal. fingers finding his hair once more, you play with the strands and massage his head with your nails. "youre handsome. two inches lost or not.”

"really?" steve lifts his face, looks down at you, preening at your words with an unusual shyness.

you bring your hands to his face, holding it with all the love you have for him. "the handsomest."

lips find lips, and soon the two of you get lost in each other as you inevitably always do.

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

Second Part to Sleepwalking Eddie

Eddie still had his doubts when it came to him sleepwalking. So, Steve did what anyone else would do in his situation. He bought a video camera. Of course, it was right after he bought it that the sleepwalking seemed to stop for a while. Was Eddie fucking with him or was it his kind of luck that this had happened?

Because of the whole sleepwalking naked incident, Steve made sure word got around for everyone to call first before coming over. Eddie had a tendency to take naps after he ate lunch, and it was one of those days. It was also the day when Dustin decided that Steve was just bullshitting them and popped in unannounced. Steve had groaned when he opened his front door to find a grinning Dustin.

"No! You can't come in," Steve hissed. "Eddie is napping."

"So? I promise not to wake him," Dustin said and made his way through the door. "Unless. . .is he really napping, or did you get so annoyed by his presence that you finally killed him? After everything we did to save him. Damn, Steve."

"No, you shithead. I did not kill your precious dungeon master," Steve said, rolling his eyes and closing the door. "I'm gonna call Hop and tell him you broke into my house, though . . . And I actually like having Eddie around, for your information."

"See, I told you that you two would be great friends," Dustin said with his back to him.

Steve rolled his eyes as he mouthed the words with Dustin. He knew he would say something like that. He followed Dustin into the living room and watched him as he flopped onto the couch, propping up his feet onto the coffee table.

"Hey! Feet off the table! God. Were you born in a barn?" Steve asked.

"Boy, wouldn't that just embarrass the hell out of you if that were true?" Dustin asked.

Suddenly, Eddie walked into the room, his eyes closed slightly as he wore nothing but his boxers and one sock.

"Shit," Steve cursed and grabbed Dustin before he went to greet him. "Don't wake him."

"Why?" Dustin asked with wide eyes. "Oh my God! He's cursed, isn't he?"

"What? No. No! Wayne told me you're not supposed to wake a sleepwalker," Steve said.

"Why?"

"I don't know."

Eddie grabbed the blanket and wrapped it completely around Dustin. He pulled him to the couch and sat down. He laid Dustin down in his his arms and began to rock him.

"Steve? Steve?! What is he doing?" Dustin asked.

"I think he's rocking you to sleep, man," Steve replied.

"Baby sleepy, shh," Eddie mumbled.

"No, baby is NOT sleepy," Dustin said and then muttered, "Baby just had a nap. . . Steve! Don't just stand there! Do something!"

"Hold on!" Steve exclaimed and ran off.

When he came back, he had something black and rectangular in his arms.

"What is - Steve, is that - is that a GODDAMN camera?" Dustin asked.

"Eddie doesn't believe that he sleepwalks. I need proof," Steve said. "Can you just give it a few more minutes?"

"Fine," Dustin grumbled. "But you should know this is absolutely humiliating."

"You owe me. One, for showing up without calling and two, for walking in here like you own the place. All without an apology," Steve said.

"Don't use logic against me, Steve," Dustin replied. "Why does he have a country accent? Maybe this is his real accent, and he hides it."

"Maybe," Steve said as he adjusted the camera on his shoulder.

"Baby hungry?!" Eddie asked.

"Steve? STEVE?!"

"Shit!"

Steve stopped him before he could press Dustin against his chest.

"Baby's been fed, remember?" Steve asked Eddie.

"By bats?!" Eddie asked.

"Uh, yeah, he's been fed by bats," Steve replied. "He's also had a nap. Can I hold him?"

Eddie grumbled before pushing Dustin away from him and walking out of the room. Dustin unwrapped himself from the swaddle.

"Well, that was strange," Dustin said.

"Dustin, if you tell anyone about his sleepwalking or joke about us being your parents ever again, I'll show the tape to Max," Steve said.

"You wouldn't!"

"I would."

"Fine."

"Steve?! Why the fuck am I in the kitchen and why do I have partially eaten block of cheese in my hands? I'm lactose!" Eddie called. "And don't say I was sleepwalking again!"

"Magic! It was magic, okay?!" Steve yelled back, rolling his eyes.

"I fucking knew it!"

[sanguineterrain]

i'll put us back together at heart - s.h.

Summary: It's 1987. You haven't spoken to Steve Harrington in nearly five years. Then Dustin Henderson tells you about a sweet deal he has at Family Video, where he can rent any movie he wants.

Pairing: ex-best friend!Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Word count: 8.8k

Warnings/tags: friends to strangers to lovers. the reader is twenty in 1987 and i technically made steve twenty-one/about to turn twenty-one. s4 happened but eddie's alive and vecna's dead. no earthquakes or anything like that; reader has no idea about what really happened. lots of angst, mentions of billy hargrove (yuck) and steve's s1 asshole friends.

A/N: oh my lord. i don't know where this eighteen-wheeler of a fic came from but here it is. there is a happy ending, not to worry. i'd never do that to y'all &lt;3 feedback and reblogs are always always appreciated!

divider by firefly-graphics

August 1981

"I wish we could stay eighth graders forever."

You lift your head from your orange pool floaty. Steve drifts on the surface of the water. His hair is longer, way longer than you've seen it in the three years you've been friends. He says it's better for styling that way; he's even bought a gel and cream for his hair. You don't understand why he wants to change something that doesn't need changing. 

"Why?" you ask. "I thought you were excited for high school."

He hums. The sound echoes in his backyard. 

"It's bigger than middle school. More kids, more teachers, more work. I like eighth grade."

"I'll help you with your work," you say. 

Steve turns his head and smiles at you. Part of his face is in the water, the image distorted. 

"You'll do great," he replies. "You're so smart."

Steve doesn't say those things to get you to help him like other kids do. Steve means it. 

"You'll do great too," you say. "You're funny and nice and my best friend. People will like you."

"You think?" 

You nod. Steve turns his head and closes his eyes again. 

"We'll stay friends, right?" he asks. 

The floaty squeaks as you move to sit up. You paddle to Steve so you can look at his face. 

"Why wouldn't we?"

"I dunno." His eyes are still closed. "You might make super smart friends. And I'll just be a dumbass holding you back."

You shove Steve's shoulder lightly. 

"You are not dumb, Steve."

One muggy June night had had Steve admit he wasn't thirteen, like you and all the kids in your class, but fourteen. He had been held back in third grade after his parents moved from Illinois. It's why my brain's mush, he'd said. I was born dumb.

He had made you swear not to tell anyone. 

"You're not dumb," you say again. "Say it, Steve. Say you're not dumb."

His frown deepens, but he still won't look at you. 

"Tommy says I am."

"Tommy Hagan is a shithead," you shoot back with so much venom, Steve's eyes fly open. "It's not true, whatever he tells you."

You hate that they've been hanging out more this summer. You can't tell Steve that, because it's not like you own him. He can be friends with whoever he wants. But you can't help that your skin crawls when Tommy and his stupid girlfriend, Carol, drops by and pulls Steve away from you. 

“Promise?” he asks.

“Yes, Steve. I promise.”

“‘Kay.” Steve smiles a little. “Thanks.” 

You nod and lay back on the floaty. 

“Wanna get ice cream after this?” he asks. 

“Just us?” 

“Just us.”

Now. (January, 1987)

You slam the phone back onto the receiver. A girl playing Pac-Man carefully glances at you. 

Whoops. Right. You're still at work. 

You smile and give a thumbs-up. She turns around. You return to your wallowing. 

You’ve called three different video rentals. Jewel Films, which is about to go out of business; More Movies, whose attendant hung up on you before you could say Molly Ringwald; and finally, Blockbuster, which is thirty minutes outside of Hawkins. None of them have a copy of Pretty in Pink. 

And okay. You could just watch another movie. You don't need that specific one. But this year has been shit. You'd thought after starting college, you'd finally break out of the Hawkins forcefield that had limited your social life. You'd thought you'd make friends and not be so terribly lonely. Life is supposed to get better after high school, isn’t it? 

Obviously, whoever said that is a big, fat liar. 

“Dude!” you hear a familiar voice exclaim. “Stop hogging the game!”

Tawny curls peek from under a green and yellow hat. The hat hovers over an older boy who’s glued to the Tempest booth. You go to them. Dustin Henderson lights up when he sees you. You can read his hat now; it says Camp Know Where ‘85.

“Hey, Y/N!” he greets brightly. “This guy has been here for a half hour. I left to get nachos and when I came back, he was still here.”

“I’m this close to beating my score!” the kid insists.

“Come on, guy," you say, one arm on the machine. "You gotta give other people a turn."

The kid, evidently demon incarnate, sneers at you.

“Who’s gonna make me? You?” 

You lean against the side of the game, considering.

“How old are you?”

“Sixteen,” he says.

You snort. 

“Sixteen? And you’re still on Tempest?”

He glances at you. 

“So?”

“Everybody your age is playing Rampage, that’s all.” 

You wink at Dustin. He beams.

“And, uh, I saw a couple girls hanging around Rampage,” you add. 

The kid turns to you. You tilt your head innocently. 

“Seriously?” he asks.

“Seriously. People always flock to the new games.”

Which is true. The girls part is not, but he doesn’t need to know that. With that attitude, he won't be getting many phone numbers anyway. 

You drum your fingers on the game like you have all the time in the world. And sure enough, the kid takes his quarters and heads towards Rampage. Dustin jumps in delight. 

“You’re awesome, Y/N!" 

You grin. “I try. Where are the others?”

Dustin sours.

“They ditched me. To hang out with their girlfriends! Can you believe that shit?” 

“No way!"

He shakes his head.

“I know, right? My friend told me that that’s what happens in high school. People change, y’know? And he’d know, I guess. He’s old like you.”

You scoff. “You make me sound like some kind of ancient. I’m not that old, Henderson.”

“It’s okay, Y/N.” He pats your arm. “In many cultures, the elderly are wise. Now in my experience, this hasn’t been the case. But I think you’re wise.”

“Gee, thanks.”

Dustin smiles like the little shit he is and puts his change in the slot. 

“Well, contrary to what this other friend says, I’m sure it’ll pass,” you say. “You guys will hang out again." 

You swallow your acidic truth. Dustin's a good kid, and so are his friends. You don't want him to turn cynical like you have. He's too young. 

Dustin shrugs, starting the game.

“I guess so. I got a copy of The Lost Boys for us to watch on Friday. They said they’ll be there.”

“Whoa, seriously? That one just came out, how’d you get a copy?”

“My friend,” he says. “The one I mentioned. He works at Family Video and reserves stuff for me.”

“Huh. I thought Family Video was closed."

You'd applied to work there last year and never got a call back. You'd gone by once and it had looked abandoned. Hence why you now work at the arcade across town. 

"It almost did, but Keith took over so now it's barely scraping by."

"Ah. Sweet deal on the movies."

“Yeah,” Dustin agrees, eyes crinkling. “My friend's pretty cool. You'd like him."

"Would I now?"

"Absolutely," he gushes. "He's a total badass too. He won his first fight last year. He used to be a jock but he's recovered." 

"Wow. Impressive."

"Mmhm. I could ask him to hold stuff for you too, if you wanted.”

“You would?”

The game makes a sad game over noise. Dustin sighs and takes a gulp of his slushie.

“Yeah, totally,” he says through a mouthful of blue raspberry ice. “Which one do you want?”

“Pretty in Pink? I missed it in theaters."

“Sure. I’ll tell him to hold it tonight and tomorrow you can pick it up.”

“Cool. Thanks, Dustin.”

Dustin gives you an apple-cheeked grin.

“Gotta stay in good graces with the arcade attendant who lets me play Tempest as long as I want.”

"I don't know what you're talking about," you say, walking away. "Don't get slushie on the game."

"'Kay!"

Dustin only gets a little bit of slushie on the game, but he cleans it up with about a million of the cheap snack bar napkins. When he leaves, he tells you to mention his name at Family. 

"Who do I ask for?" 

"You can talk to either of them," Dustin says. "Doesn't matter. Except Keith. You know Keith, right?"

"Unfortunately.” Keith used to terrorize the arcade before he blessedly moved on. “He works there?"

"Barely." Dustin scoffs. "He's almost never there, so don't worry. And feel free to ask for more movies. They owe me one."

Your sole interactions are with professors and a gaggle of high school freshmen. But now you get to watch any movie you want. Maybe this year won't totally suck. 

The bell rings pleasantly as you step inside. There's a few people on line, so you take your time walking in. There's a movie display with about thirty copies of RoboCop. A cardboard cutout of RoboCop stares back behind his red helmet.

"Can I help who's next?"

You go to the counter. A girl about your age with a choppy haircut smiles at you but it's sort of strained. She has a pin on her green work vest that says Ask me!

"Please don't ask for Adventures in Babysitting," she says. 

"Oh. No, I'm, uh, Dustin's friend?" 

You can't believe you're name-dropping a high schooler. 

She nods in realization. 

"Oh, yeah. God, I keep telling that dweeb not to promise holds."

You wince. 

"Sorry. If it's going to get you in trouble…"

Her brows raise. She smiles a bit. 

"No, it's okay. Usually my coworker deals with it but, well. He's taking an extra long break today. So, what movie was it?"

"Pretty in Pink," you say. 

"Classic," she replies. "John Hughes fan?"

"Somewhat. I didn't get to see it in theaters. I like Molly Ringwald."

She grins.

"Me too. She's pretty."

"Super pretty," you agree. 

The girl considers you, then sticks out her hand. 

"I'm Robin," she says. "Nice to meet you."

You take her hand. "Y/N.”

"Did you go to Hawkins High?"

"I did. Graduated last year."

"Oh, cool. Are you in college?"

You nod. 

"Hawkins State. Twenty minutes from here."

"Sweet! I'm taking a gap year, but afterwards, I’m gonna apply there. It's cheap. College is college, right?"

"College is college," you agree. "But I wish I'd gone away for school."

You don't know why you're telling her this. You've known Robin for all of two minutes. But she seems friendly. And her sense of style is cool. She wears a blue blazer and tie underneath her vest. 

"How come?" she asks. 

"Everybody from Hawkins is there," you say. "And I… I just want a new start."

Robin smiles sympathetically. 

"They're jerks," she says. 

You huff. "Yeah."

You'd turned yourself into a social recluse a million years ago. It's your own damn fault you can't befriend anybody in this town. At least, not anymore. 

Robin types into the computer, then smacks the monitor. She groans. 

"Ugh. Gimme a second," she says. "Stupid technology."

"No problem," you say, smiling. You like her. Maybe you can integrate Family Video into your regular routine, become friends. You can see Robin becoming a good friend. One you wouldn't grow apart from. 

She disappears into the back room. You browse the old releases and stop at Die Hard. This one you saw in theaters. John McClane is a badass. 

You think of Dustin, and his supposedly badass new friend. It's too bad you didn't meet today. Dustin has a good sense about people. If he says so, it's possible you and this friend really would get on. 

The bell rings again. You're slow to look up. The entrance is empty when you do. You keep reading about John McClane's adventures. 

"Have you been waiting long?"

You turn at the new voice. The video slips out of your hand and clatters onto the counter. 

Steve’s hair has grown since you last saw it. He looks different too, though he has yet to break out of his signature church boy polos. There's a smattering of stubble on his jaw. His arms are lean with muscle. He wears a matching work vest like Robin's, name tag printed Steve in blocky font. 

He looks at where you've dropped Die Hard and smiles. 

"This is a good one," he says. "John McClane is a total badass."

You blink.

"Did you want to rent that one?" he continues, meeting your eye. 

"No," you manage. 

"Okay, no problem. Just browsing?" 

He doesn't remember you. 

You stare and stare. Steve leans in, concerned. He's changed, but he hasn't. He's still handsome with his swoopy hair and big, dark eyes, but the Steve you knew wouldn't have been caught dead working at a video store.

And he doesn't remember you. 

"Are you okay?" he asks, sounding genuine.

You take a step back from the counter. The blood roars in your ears. Robin comes back in, Pretty in Pink in hand. She looks at you, then at Steve. 

"Got it!" she tells you. "Computer should work now."

"I have to go," you say. 

You don't look at Steve again, instead focusing on Robin. 

Her brows rise. 

"Oh. Is everything—"

"I forgot my wallet," you blurt. "I can't pay for the movie. Sorry."

"That's okay, we can just—"

You run. The bell chimes over her words. You keep running until you get to the bus stop, three blocks away. 

Only there do you stop to catch your breath. 

And then you cry. 

February 1982

"What do you think about Marie?" 

You look up from your textbook. Steve is doodling in the margins of his notes. You gently prod his arm. He returns to reading but his leg starts to bounce under the table. 

"Marie Iverson?" you ask.

"Yeah." 

Steve glances at you. He pushes his hair back. It had taken him freshman year to get his bearings with all the gels and creams, but now, his hair is a point of pride, always perfectly coiffed. Seniors call him "The Hair" and high-five him in the hallway. You hate it. 

"I don't know. I don't know her that well."

"She's cute." 

"I guess so," you say. 

It's harder to get Steve to focus on homework these days. Last year, he happily made flashcards with you and even bought fancy gel pens to share for your notes. Now, he prefers to talk about girls or—

"I was thinking of asking her out."

The tip of your pencil breaks. You really ought to start using pens, but you don't like being unable to erase. 

"Shit, here. Take mine." 

Steve offers his still perfectly sharpened pencil. You stare at it. 

"Y/N?" 

"Yeah." You take the pencil. "Thanks."

"Sure. So what do you think?" 

"I don't know, Steve. I thought you talked about this stuff with Tommy."

"I would, it's just…" Steve shifts uncomfortably. "He can be rude about it sometimes. He doesn't even get why we're friends, y'know? Doesn't understand why I don't just date you."

Tommy is a moron, but you've said that since last year, and Steve's never listened before. 

"Some people don't get it," you say mildly, because you have an upcoming French test and there's no use in getting upset over Tommy Hagan right now. 

"But you do. And you know about this stuff better than me. Girls and all."

"Just because I'm a girl doesn't mean I know what girls are best for you to date, Steve. It's weird to talk about."

Steve deflates. 

"Oh. Yeah, I guess so. Sorry."

You sigh and rub your temple. 

"I thought you knew all about that," you say, extending an olive branch. "Asking girls out and stuff."

"Well, I mean, I've kissed girls but I've never… you're, like, the only girl I really know."

Something like pride swells in your chest. Selfishly, you want to keep Steve. You don't want to help him if it means losing him. Oh, you're so greedy, aren't you? You watch Steve run off with Tommy and Carol and nameless seniors and seethe, because Steve was yours first. Steve is yours.

"Y/N?"

"Yeah." You give him back his pencil and fish for another one in your bag. "Did you ever think about writing how you feel?" 

"Writing?"

"Yeah, like a poem or a letter."

"I'm terrible at writing," Steve laments. "The letters get all jumbled and I never spell a damn thing right."

He'd told his mom once how letters melt into each other, how b's become d's. She'd taken him to get his eyes checked, and when the doctor said Steve was fine, Deborah Harrington had told her son to stop begging for attention. 

"Someone who really likes you won't care about spelling mistakes, Steve," you tell him. "As long as you write from the heart. Don't do that cheesy shit and quote Romeo and Juliet. They're young, impulsive, and they die at the end, and that's not romantic."

Steve laughs, nose scrunched. 

"What!" you demand. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing, 's just—of course you'd have something to say about quoting Shakespeare."

"It's overdone," you say, crinkling your nose. "And girls would much rather read your own words." 

"So you think I should write Marie a letter?"

"If you really like her," you say. "Only write letters for girls you really like. Otherwise they lose their meaning."

Steve frowns. "I don't know if I should write her a letter, then."

Don't, you want to say. Don't write any of them letters.

You shuffle your papers into a stack. 

"Can we study now?" you ask.

"Oh, sure, yes. Sorry."

"You don't have to keep apologizing, Steve."

He shifts closer to you. His leg has stopped bouncing.

"Lemme take you out," he says. 

You nearly swallow your tongue. 

"Wh–what?"

"For ice cream," Steve clarifies. "Like we used to. Dairy Queen."

"Oh. Okay, sure. But after we study."

Steve beams. "I'll drive you."

Steve's dad had bought him the BMW as a birthday present this year—not that Richard Harrington actually knows when his own son's birthday is, considering the gift was three months early. Still, it's another point of pride for Steve and about all anybody talks about whenever his name comes up. Steve is the only person in your grade with a car. Junior girls hit him up for rides. You make yourself scarce when they do. 

You don't care. You liked Steve before the car. And the clothes. And the hair. 

Your throat feels tight. You want your best friend back. 

"Just us?" you check. 

You can't tell these days. Steve seems to hang out with everybody but you. You're shocked he'd even asked to study together. 

"Oh, sure," Steve says. "I just have to drop off Tommy and Carol first, okay?" 

You check your watch and close your book. 

"I have class," you lie. "I'll see you later." 

Steve catches your wrist. He looks at you and you're struck by how sweet his face is. It's not like you didn't understand why girls want him but it's Steve. Your Steve, who still sleeps with a nightlight and who framed a picture of a sports car he cut out from a magazine because he'd thought it would make him cooler (it didn't. You still tease him about it.) 

"Please," he says. "For helping me."

Your eyes slit. "I didn't help you to get stuff, Steve. I helped you because you're my friend."

Steve blinks like he's forgotten what it's like to be friends with someone just for the sake of being friends. 

"You're right," he agrees. "You're not like that. I'll tell Tommy and Carol to find another ride. It'll be just us. I promise."

You perk up at that. "Really?"

"Really. You can sit in the front with me and we'll play Bruce Springsteen, like we used to. Please?" 

"Okay, Steve." You ache. You’ve never been very good at telling him no. "I'll meet you in the parking lot."

And maybe… maybe your best friend is still in there after all.

Now

You ask your shift manager if you can work at the snack bar today. It's in the back and you won't have to deal with any game hogs. 

"You didn't put enough syrup in my slushie."

You might have overshot the perks, though. 

Slushie Girl's hair is bleach blonde and hairsprayed to God. You want to tell her that all that hairspray doesn't keep friends. Or brain synapses. 

"I don't make the slushie," you say for the third time. "That's how it comes out of the machine."

She shoots you a mean look. 

"I'm complaining to the manager."

You paste on a smile. 

"You do that. Have a nice day."

She finally walks away, probably on the hunt for your manager, who's definitely smoking a joint outside to avoid this exact situation. 

Dustin comes around the corner and this time, he's with the rest of his party. You smile. 

"Hey, Y/N!" Dustin greets.

Lucas waves at you. Max and Mike are arguing and therefore are in their own world. And there's their newest addition, El, whose story you're still not clear on, as well as Will, quiet as always. 

You lean your elbows on the countertop. 

"What'll it be, gang?"

"Six nachos and six slushies, please. One blue raspberry, three cherry, and two Coke."

You fill up the slushies first. Dustin dances on his toes. 

"So did you pick up the movie?" he asks.

"Oh." You try to smile. "I went there but I couldn't. I forgot my money. Pretty dumb of me."

Dustin accepts this with no argument. 

"Well, you can go back. They'll hold it for a few days."

You're never setting foot in there again, but you don't tell Dustin that. 

He takes his slushie and immediately starts drinking. 

"Slow down, dude. You'll get a brain freeze," you say. 

"You sound like Steve," Dustin informs you. "Doesn't Y/N sound like Steve?" 

Lucas nods. 

"Yup. They're both parents."

You feel queasy. You focus on making the nachos, the cheese pouring out thick and gooey. 

"Did you meet Steve?" Dustin asks. "You probably know him from high school, but he's different now."

"Yes," you say quietly. "I knew him."

"I promise he's different. Even Mike likes him, and Mike hated his guts. Right, Mike?"

Mike pauses in his animated discussion with Max and looks at you. 

"What?"

"I'm telling Y/N about how Steve is cool now," Dustin explains. 

"Oh." Mike shrugs. "He's fine. Much better now that he's not dating my sister."

"He's not?" you ask. "But they were in love. I–I mean, that's what I heard, at least."

"She dumped his ass," El says, and it sounds a little ridiculous in her soft monotone. 

Max scoffs, taking her Coke slushie. 

"Did you live under a rock? It was a huge thing."

"Now Steve is lame," Mike says with a snort. 

"Getting dumped doesn't make somebody lame," you say with an old ferocity you'd thought had disappeared. 

"Okay, jeez." Mike holds up his hands. "Steve's alright. He's different, that's for sure."

"He's our paladin," Lucas says. "A protector." 

Dustin nods eagerly.

You blink. "He protects you guys?"

Max elbows Lucas. You have no idea what that's about. El steps forward and smiles softly. 

"Yes," she says. "He's our babysitter."

"Aren't you guys freshmen? I thought you were too old for babysitters."

"Oh no, Steve doesn't get paid for it or anything," says Mike. "He just does it 'cause he has nothing else to do."

"That's not true!" Dustin argues. Then he shrugs. "Well, it's a little true. But he does like us. He's a good guy. He cares about his friends."

You bite your tongue, not wanting to reply to that. 

"That's great, guys. The girl, Robin? She seems pretty cool too."

"That's Steve's best friend," says Dustin. "She's great."

"Oh." You wince. "Best friend?" 

Dustin huffs. “Yeah. They don’t date. He won’t say why."

"Platonic with a capital P," Max confirms. “It’s obviously because he’s in love with somebody else.”

“Not Nancy!” Lucas protests.

“There are other girls besides Nancy, Sinclair.”

You busy yourself with serving the last set of nachos. The kids pull out crumpled bills and coins in return. You count the money and stack it directly into the register; you know there won't be any change. 

When you turn, they're still there. Dustin has his signature grin on, eyes squinty. 

"Yeees," you drag out. "Can I help you?"

"We need a favor," Lucas says. "Please."

"Hmm." You lean over the counter. "What's up?"

"They're showing Prince of Darkness on Friday," Dustin explains. "But it's rated R."

"So just sneak in. Isn't that what you guys did at Starcourt?" you ask.

"We had an inside man then. They're a lot stricter at the new one," Lucas frowns. "They ask for IDs 'cause some mom complained after her kid snuck in to watch Risky Business." 

"And why can't your babysitter take you?"

You sneer at the thought. Steve spending his Friday nights herding a bunch of adolescent teens into a movie theater. There's a reason you consider Dustin affectionately delusional. 

"He has a stupid date," Dustin groans. "He's a serial dater, Y/N. It's terrible. He gets lucky once and totally ditches us."

Now that sounds like the Steve you knew. 

"I see. I don't really like horror stuff."

"You don't have to stay!" Dustin insists. "You can watch whatever you want after we’re in. I'll pay you back for the ticket."

“This would be so much easier if Steve still worked at Scoops,” Mike grumbles.

You blank for a moment, the image of Steve in a sailor’s hat and those ridiculous shorts whiting your brain.

“Um,” you begin. “You know I don’t have a fancy BMW to cart you guys around in, right?”

“It’s cool. We’ll get there,” Max says.

“So?” Dustin bounces on his toes. “Sooo?”

You sigh. It’d been nice of Dustin to get you the movie, even though you’d chickened out and ran. And it’s not like you have anything better to do.

“Okay,” you say. “I’ll get you guys in.”

Dustin pumps his fist. “Thanks, Y/N! You’re my favorite old person.”

You roll your eyes. “Funny. Any funnier, and I might rescind my help, Henderson.”

“Byeeee!”

They all disperse to the arcade. You wonder how on earth Steve got involved with them.

March 1983

“Okay, but if you had to choose.”

“Pass. I would literally rather swallow pennies than kiss Principal Coleman’s bald-ass head, Steve.”

Steve takes a triumphant swig of beer. “So you’re saying you’ve got the hots for Benny the janitor.”

“No!” you insist through giggles. “I don’t. God, you’re gross. Can’t believe I’m being treated like this on your birthday.”

“Exactly! My birthday.”

He rolls onto his side in his deck chair and nearly faceplants on the cement. You reach out, reaction time delayed.

“Steve!” you yell. “Careful.”

“I am, I am,” he mumbles, and rights himself on the chair. “Jus’ wanna see you better.”

“I keep telling you you need glasses.”

“I do not,” he whines. “My vision’s ten outta ten. Could a guy who needs glasses do this?”

He crumples up a Twinkies wrapper and throws it towards the garbage. The wind picks up and sends the wrapped into the pool. 

“Shit,” he says.

You belly laugh in delight.

“Wait, wait, redo. Go fish it outta there.”

“Oh, as if. I’m not going in there. I told you you need glasses. Even Mother Nature agrees.”

"She does not. Mother Nature thinks I'm a doll."

You hum and close your eyes. Alcohol always makes you sleepy. 

The chair scrapes against the concrete. You hear a crinkle of a chip bag. Those are your only warning before you’re crushed by two hundred pounds of drunk boy. 

“Steve!” You wheeze, squirming as his hair tickles your face. “Get off!”

"’M sleepy,” he mumbles.

“Well, don't sleep on me, weirdo.”

“‘S cold.”

“You run, like, a hundred degrees, don’t lie.”

He lifts his head. “So you’re saying I’m hot?”

“I’m saying all that booze cooked your brain,” you reply sweetly.

“I’ve been wounded,” he moans and plops onto your shoulder.

“Ugh.” You resign to your fate and lean back. Steve’s not actually that heavy; even drunk, he has a lot of control over his weight and he’s situated himself so he isn’t crushing anything important. No, you squirm underneath him for a very different reason. 

“Steeeeve,” you whine. “You’re gonna squish me into a pancake.”

“Can’t believe no one else came.”

You still. Steve’s face remains buried in your shoulder. His body is beside yours, and he has an arm slung over your belly.

“I didn’t—didn’t want a party,” he continues. “I always throw parties. I thought I’d do somethin’ different. An’ none of them even wished me a happy birthday. ‘Cept you.”

You rest your hand on the back of his hair. It’s wind-blown and messy from the drinks, free of his heady hair gel. You’ve never loved it more.

“Did you tell them your birthday is today?” you ask gently, even though you know he did.

“Yeah,” he says. “Told all of ‘em. Guess they weren’t listening.”

“I listen.”

Steve looks up at you. His eyes are glassy.

“God, I miss you,” he says.

You feel the wall you’ve built this year crumble, just a little. 

“I’m right here, Steve.”

“I know but—been a jerk lately. I know I have. You’re my best friend, okay? Nothing’ll change that. I–I love you so much.”

Your breath hitches. Steve barrels on, not noticing.

“And I’ll be better. We’ll hang out more. Not–not here, drunk. But for real. We’ll go to the movies. Y’wanna see a movie?”

“Yeah,” you whisper. “I wanna see a movie.”

“‘Kay, what movie? Anything you want. We’ll get popcorn and Raisinets.”

“You hate Raisinets,” you choke through a watery laugh.

“I’d eat Raisinets anytime with you.”

You lay there, in the dark, the only sound being the pool filter.

“Let’s watch the new James Bond.”

“Hmm, okay. But you’ll have to say the name eventually.”

Your nose crinkles. “I am not calling it by its name.”

His laugh is warm in your neck. 

You don’t tell Steve to get up again. He snuggles into you, leg over yours. You fall asleep like that, curled underneath him.

Now

“Wait.” Max stops. “Shouldn’t we have, like, a game plan?”

“Game plan?” El asks quietly.

“Yeah. Some of us aren’t so great at playing it cool.”

She stares at Lucas.

“I play it cool!” he squawks. “I am so cool!”

“Right.”

“Just let Y/N do the talking,” Will says. “She’s technically the adult so she should act like this is a conscious choice.”

You shrug. “Makes sense to me.”

Dustin beams. “This is gonna be great!”

“Or a total disaster,” Max says.

You go to the counter, the kids trailing behind like ducklings.

“Six tickets for Prince of Darkness, please,” you say. “And uh, one for Dirty Dancing.”

The attendant looks at you, then at the kids.

“Don’t you mean seven tickets for Prince of Darkness?” she asks. “It’s rated R.”

Shit. “Right, yes. Sorry. Seven tickets. And one for Dirty Dancing. We have another friend who’s late.”

“Uh-huh.” 

The attendant, whose bored expression you’ve recognized on your own face after long days in the arcade, hands you your tickets without any questioning. 

“I think we’re in the clear,” Lucas whispers when you enter the concession area. 

You wait for them to buy their snacks. Max persuades Lucas to let her mix M&Ms into their bucket of popcorn. He agrees and shuffles closer so they’re pressed shoulder to shoulder while they share. 

“Okay, last stretch,” Mike says, shoveling a frighteningly large handful of sour worms into his mouth. “We just have to get past the ticket guy.”

Said ticket guy is a kid who can’t be much older than you. You think you might’ve gone to school together, but you’ve made it a point to eviscerate everything about high school from your mind.

“Hey,” you say, trying to act cool. Maybe you’re the one Max should’ve been worried about, instead of Lucas. “Uh, here are our tickets.”

He takes the tickets, then looks behind you.

“Prince of Darkness is only for people seventeen and older,” he says.

“I’m an adult, so I’m with them,” you explain. “I’m, like, their guardian?”

“Yeah, uh—” He hands you your tickets. “No can do. There needs to be an adult for each person under seventeen.”

“Come on,” you cajole. “They’re high schoolers. It’s not like they’re gonna be scarred for life watching some zombies, or whatever.”

He shrugs. “Rules are rules.”

“She’s an adult!” Dustin argues.

“Look, if you’re gonna hold up the line, I’m gonna have to—”

“Yo, Gillespie! That you?”

Dustin turns and lights up. The seven of you part for Steve Harrington and his date, a pretty strawberry blonde you think you had biology with.

“Harrington, man, what’s up!” 

Ticket Prick gets up to slam Steve into a bear hug. You barely resist an eye roll.

“Shit, I haven’t seen you in a year! Where’ve you been all this time? Hey, did you hear about that shit with Munson?”

Steve flinches. It’s a tiny movement, indiscernible to the trained eye. But it’s there all the same.

“Gillespie, c’mon. Don’t bring the party down with that,” Steve says, all sweet charm. 

“Sorry, sorry. Daisy,” he greets the girl attached to Steve’s arm.

“Gil,” she replies with a giggle. “You smell like popcorn butter.”

America’s future taxpayers. Terrifying. 

“Are you gonna let us in or not?” Max interrupts, arms folded. 

You feel a burst of pride.

Gil shoots her a dirty glare and puffs up, ready to fight a fourteen year old. Steve cuts in smoothly.

“Gillespie, listen. I know her.” He points to you. You bristle. “I can personally vouch that she’s just trying to do right by these kids. They wanted to see Prince of Darkness, y’know? Get away from the parents.”

“It’s a sick film,” Gil agrees. “You seen it?”

No, of course Steve hadn’t seen it. He hates horror. 

“Planning on it,” Steve says, the ultimate image of playing it cool. “Look, you remember sneaking into the movies. Fast Times? Ring any bells?”

Max rolls her eyes. You’re inclined to do the same.

Gil laughs dopily, and nudges Steve. “Hell yeah, I do. That was a crazy night, Harrington.”

Steve smiles thinly. “Sure was. So whaddya say? For old times’ sake?”

Gil considers your little troupe. Then he shrugs.

“Why not. Manager’s not here anyway.”

He takes the tickets and tears them to stubs, then gives them back.

“Theater six. On your left. Enjoy.”

The kids stampede into the left theater wing. You hang back with your own ticket. 

“Appreciate it, man,” Steve says, all smiles. “Take care, alright?”

“Hey, you too, Harrington! We gotta catch up!”

Steve and Daisy go in. You expect them to walk right past you, and Daisy does, predictably. But Steve stops.

“I’ll catch up, okay?” he tells her. “Find us some good seats?”

She paws at him a little, then goes, sodas in hand. You stiffen as Steve walks and stops three feet away from you. 

“Hey,” he says. “Sorry about that. Gil’s an asshole.”

“I know. He yawned during my poetry reading sophomore year. And then you guys went to the movies together.”

Steve shrinks. “Your poems were great.”

You’re suddenly exhausted.

“What do you want, Steve?”

“I just… I wanted to see you. Say hi.”

“Okay.” You cross your arms. “Hi.”

“You forgot your movie,” he says. “The other day.”

“I didn’t want it that much.”

“Dustin said you looked everywhere for it.”

“Well, in the end, it didn’t really matter,” you say. “Not enough to stay.”

“Y/N—”

“I think your date’s waiting for you,” you interrupt. “Better get back to her. Wouldn’t want to taint your reputation.”

Steve makes a noise like he’s been wounded. You turn on your heel before you can think better of it. 

“Wait.” He catches your wrist. Steve’s grip is light, like you’re something precious to hold. You wrench your arm away. “Y/N, I want to apologize. I’m sorry.”

“For what?” you ask. “For forgetting me? I didn’t expect you to remember, Steve.”

“I didn’t forget you,” he insists. “I could never forget you. I wasn’t—please, can I just explain?”

“I don’t need your explanations,” you snap. The hurt corrodes your tongue like acid. “I know what happened. We were both there. You left.”

Steve’s eyes are huge and dark. He looks like you just stabbed him in the heart, and that makes you feel worse. You’d thought telling him how much it hurts would put you back together, but all it did was break you more.

So you run. Again. 

You slam through a back exit and rip your ticket into a million pieces. The wind is cold and unforgiving. Your eyes sting. 

You call out sick for two days in a row. You kind of expect to get fired, but then again, people have been leaving Hawkins and if you’re not here to serve the masses their slushies, who will be?

So, after lying in bed not thinking about movies and strawberry blonde girls and how sick you are of this town, you get up and put on your arcade vest.

Now it is two in the afternoon. You’d heard it was supposed to snow today.

Robin eyes the snack counter like it holds the next plague outbreak. You don't blame her; you make it a point to wash up to your elbows after work.

"Slushie?"

She looks at you like she’d forgotten you were there. "What?"

You point a thumb at the machine. "Are you here for a slushie?"

"Oh. No, sorry. Red dye makes me insane in the brain. Steve actually—"

Robin stops, grimaces. So he's told her. Probably everything, if the kids had been telling the truth. 

You're honestly surprised she's here. Unless it’s to, like, swirlie you in the vat of artificial cheese. 

"Are you here to drown me in nacho cheese?" you ask.

Robin's eyes go wide as dinner plates. "What? No!"

"Just checking." You lean against the counter. "What can I do for you, Robin?" 

Robin suddenly looks like she's never interacted with a human being before. You like her a lot. Steve probably does too. 

"I came to drop off your movie." She holds the tape over the counter like it's a pool of lava. 

"But I didn't pay for it." You shove your hand in your jean pocket; you only have a couple dollars on you. "I guess I can get you the money tom—"

"It's on the house. For a fellow Molly fan."

Robin wiggles the tape with two fingers. You take it and wait for a catch. There is none. 

"Thank you," you say. "You didn't have to do that."

"Actually, it wasn't me," she confesses. "I'm just the mailman."

You prepare to hand it back but Robin shakes her head. 

"He's not going to pop out of the slushie machine, okay? He's just trying to make it up to you."

"He doesn't need to make it up to me," you bite, except those aren’t the words you mean. "Why does he even care? We're not in high school anymore."

Robin smiles a sad smile. 

"I know," she says. "We’re not. I know he should've known to fix things earlier. He's received a lot of blows to the head, though, so he's still catching up."

The thought turns your stomach. More? More you weren’t there to protect him from?

"He doesn't owe me anything," you say and wave the tape again. "You can take it back and leave it for somebody else."

"Y/N, I know we don't know each other, like, at all. But it's important to me you know that Steve cares about you, because you’re important to him. And you knew him way before I did, and you probably know a lot of stuff I don't, and that's good because he has a friend like me, but he should also have a friend like you too, Y/N."

"I don't want to be his friend," you mumble. 

"Yeah," Robin says. "I figured. But I don't think that's a confession he should hear secondhand."

You look at her, stunned. She's such a clever girl. You hope she treats Steve well.

"If you two are—"

"We're not," she says, like this is a regular explanation she goes through. "Steve and I are friends. Steve has crashed and burned with every single date since his fall from regency. Steve is the best person I've ever met." 

"Yeah, I’ve heard. You and Dustin are his biggest fans."

Robin snorts. "Trust me, I'm not proud of it."

You shake your head. Your eyes feel hot. 

"This town is so shit," you say. 

"Yeah," Robin agrees. "It really fucking is. But I'm not asking you to give this town a second chance. Just him."

"Why are you trying so much?" you ask. "You don't even know me."

Robin shrugs. "No, but you're the one person Steve used to be friends with who's not an asshole, and I think us non-assholes need to band together."

"I can sometimes be an asshole."

"Me too. So are those little dweebs. How about calling ourselves the Semi-Assholes Club?" 

You laugh. "We'll get jackets."

"With partially drawn butts on the backs," Robin says with a giggle. 

You look at the tape in your hand. 

"Does Steve like John Hughes?" 

"He does. He's a total sap for those. He thinks he's in his own coming-of-age movie because he's delusional."

He sounds perfect. He sounds like the friend you loved. 

"I did want to watch this one," you say. 

"It won't hurt you to," Robin promises. 

You suppose not.

December 1984

You don't believe the whispers. All week, the rumor mill spins tales of Billy Hargrove finally pushing the King off his throne. There's no way he'll show his face, a girl at the adjacent lunch table astutes. I sure as fuck wouldn't.

Steve Harrington is a loser. Steve Harrington got dumped for Jonathan Byers. Steve Harrington may as well be dead, and on and on. 

Every line gets you angrier. A boy who sits behind you in chemistry taps his pencil like he always does. Tap, tap, tap. 

Halfway through class, you snap at him to quit it. He does, but not without a tinge of embarrassment. You’re so angry this year. Angry at your loneliness, angry at the unfairness of said loneliness. You might’ve done this to yourself, and that fact only gets you angrier.

You see Nancy Wheeler in the hallways with Jonathan Byers, and the confirmation of that rumor should make you happy. It doesn't. 

A week later, most of the excitement has died down. Everybody’s moved onto the next big thing, which is to deduce who fucked in Vice Principal White's office. One look at V.P. White, and it had been decided that it can't have been White himself. 

You can't care less. Once upon a time you might’ve laughed about it with a friend, but you don't have any more of those, and high school is bullshit with or without them. So.

Steve walks in twenty five minutes into the period. Mrs. Kaplan gives him a downright beastly glare and demands to know where he had been. 

"I'm sorry," is all he says. "If you give me detention, I understand."

There are a few snickers that rub at an old hurt, one that had flared up whenever somebody dared to make fun of your best friend. It doesn't bother me, he'd said, and you'd known it was a lie. 

It bothers me, you’d replied, and Steve had hugged you tight.

Mrs. Kaplan seems more stunned Steve hadn't swaggered past her like a peacock escaped from the zoo and lets him go sit down without a fight. He takes the only empty desk, two rows across from you. You stare. You can't not. 

Half of his face looks like it was mashed in a garbage disposal. It's purple and a sickly yellow. His eye and lip are still swollen. You stare and stare. You feel queasy. 

Billy had done that. You're so angry. You think you might never get past this grief, this loss of a once permanent fixture in your life. 

No one wished Steve a happy birthday this year, you realize out of nowhere.

You stare and stare and stare until Steve looks right back. You're blindsided by thick guilt, like blinking through a milkshake. And then the familiar curl of anger returns because why the fuck should you feel guilty? You aren't the one who fucked everything up, who mascerated this good thing. Steve did this to himself. Steve deserves to walk the halls alone. It's Steve's fault. 

But when you look at him, at his raw wounds, at his bruised knuckles, you know that he already believes he deserves every punch Billy Hargrove gave him. 

You hate Steve Harrington. But you really wish you'd been there to drive him to the hospital. 

Now (And Forever)

The tape sits buried in your drawer for three days. You don’t know what Family Video’s return policy is, but you hope you’re not racking up late fees. You doubt name dropping Dustin will work again.

It’s Saturday when you decide to watch Pretty in Pink. You remove the video from its sleeve. An envelope falls out.

The front has your name printed in squished, loopy script. You remember January at Steve’s house, a stack of thank-you cards courtesy of his mother awaiting the Harringtons’ sign-off. Steve’s hand would cramp and you’d take over while he made grilled cheese for the both of you. Love, The Harringtons, and there was no love in that house, but you think maybe Steve loved enough to make up for it. 

Hi, the letter begins. I hope you’re good. Robin told me you’re going to Hawkins State.

That’s fucking amazing. I’m so proud of you. Are you still writing poetry? I liked that one you wrote about the birds who shared a branch and kept each other warm. I still have it in my notebook in my room.

I’m sorry for the other night. I’m sorry for every night since freshman year, honestly. I’m kind of a dumbass, but you know that, so it doesn’t really excuse anything. I think I’ve actually lost brain cells since we drifted apart.

You crumple the corner, suddenly hot with anger. Who keeps telling him he’s dumb? You want names.

I didn’t forget you, you know. I got scared and I thought maybe I could ease into it, but then you recognized me and… well. I don’t blame you for running.

Anyway. I’m talking too much about myself, when there’s nothing to say. I’m really sorry about what I did, or, actually, what I didn’t do. Somebody told me I was living on autopilot, and that it wasn’t really living at all. I think it was you. 

I’m not living on autopilot anymore. I woke up. And I realized that you’re the best fucking thing that’s ever happened to me. I love Robin and the kids and this little family that has apparently invayd invaded your life too. Sorry about that. They never leave and they eat all your food. Good luck. 

But I miss you. I always have.

Shit happened these last few years that I’ll tell you about one day, if you want. I’d rather not, though, because you’ve always been the paranoiac (like that one? Robin said it’s an SAT word) of the two of us and I feel like this would just make you even more of one. But I will tell you, if you want to hear it. I want to tell you everything. I want you to tell me everything too. Like we used to.

I want you to tell me how college is going. Who the annoying jerks in your classes are so I can go beat them up (kidding). I want you to stop by to rent movies so I can lend them for free and you’ll yell at me about taking advantage of fre friendships. 

Fuck, I miss you. It’s always been there, bubbling below the surface. I never stopped missing you. I never stopped loving you. I’m sorry I didn’t write this sooner. I know you said writing is how we express things we can’t say. You were right. You always are. Can’t believe I forgot that. 

It’s okay if you don’t want to be friends. I mean, it hurts, but I respect it. I understand. Most days, I can’t believe people can bear to be around me. But then I hear your voice in my head, telling me that most people are shitheads and that I’m golden and. Well, I don’t know if I believe that, but you were right that most of the people I surrounded myself with were shitheads. Except you, of course. And then I went ahead and fucked that up.

I’ve been working on finding the non-shitheads of the world. I think I’m doing pretty well. And I wrote this because I realized that while I will probably end up buried in this fucking town, you’re going to do something incredible. And nothing incredible ever happens in Hawkins, so I figure you’ll be far away when you do it. 

I didn’t want to miss this chance to write things I never said. So here they are. And you can do whatever you want with them. You’ve always been the best of the two of us. I trust you.

You should watch Dirty Dancing. You’ll like it. I did. I’ll see it again if you want. I’ll watch anything with you.

Did you know there’s another Bond movie coming out in the summer? We could watch that one together too. If you wanted more time to decide.

Sincer

Lo

Your friend,

Steve

You don’t bother ejecting the tape. You run all the way to the bus stop, Steve’s letter in hand. 

You have to see him. No other thoughts register except that one. You have to know if Steve wrote these words because he can’t say them or because you won’t listen.

It isn’t too late when you get to Loch Nora. The neighborhood is dead, which is weird. Steve’s house looks frozen in time: his parents’ car isn’t in the driveway. You wonder if they’ve ever come back since you’ve been gone. You wouldn't be surprised if the answer is no.

There’s a tarp over the pool. The gate is locked with a chain. You can’t sneak in through the fence like you used to. Not that you would. You don’t think strangers can sneak through pool gates.

You knock on the door three times. And wait.

Steve’s car is in the driveway, a duller burgundy than when he first got it. There are a few scratches in the paint. No longer a prized possession. Maybe well-loved instead.

The door swings open. 

Steve says your name like a prayer. You swallow and steel your spine. 

“I got your letter,” you say.

“Oh.” He rubs the back of his neck. His hair is damp like he’s just showered. It curls around his ears. Waves of want hit you. 

“I don’t want to be friends,” you continue before he can speak. “I don’t—I can’t do that again.”

Steve’s mouth draws into the saddest frown you’ve ever seen.

“Okay,” he says softly. “Thank you for telling me.”

“No.” You shake your head. “No, that’s not—I don’t mean it like that.”

His brows knit. “What?”

“I…” You pull out the letter and wave it. “Did you mean it? Do you love me?”

“Yes,” Steve whispers. It’s like a shout in the quiet street. “I meant it.”

“Like a friend?”

“If that’s what you want.”

“Will you love me like a friend forever?” you ask. 

“Always.” 

You squeeze your eyes shut.

“I love you as something more,” you blurt, watery. “I have for a long time.”

You hear the door shut. This is it: your heart on the line, all for nothing—

“Then I’ll love you as something more back,” Steve says. “I’ll love you any way you want me to.”

And he holds you the way you’d held him so many times. You inhale and wrap your arms around his neck. You’ve got an iron grip around the letter. Tears slip down your cheeks.

“I missed you,” you confess.

Steve nods against your shoulder.

“Yeah,” he says, and it sounds a little wet. “I missed you too.”

“You were wrong,” you say into his neck.

“Hmm?”

You pull back to look at Steve.

“Incredible things do happen in Hawkins.”

“Oh, yeah?” Steve smiles, cheeks blotchy. “Like what?”

“We found each other again.”

[steddie-island]

Champagne kisses

@softsteddieseptember week 3: Anniversary Rating: G | WC: 1,406 | Tags: Getting together, first kiss, Eddie Munson lives Find full list of tags on ao3 | Divider credit

Eddie woke to the sound of pebbles hitting his window. He looked around for his watch to check the time, then carefully climbed out of bed.

He'd expected to see Dustin, or Mike, or even Max, one of the shitheads. He hadn't expected Steve on the other side, with a palmful of gravel— a piece of which narrowly missed hitting Eddie as he opened the window.

"Steve, what the fuck?" Eddie's nose wrinkled and he looked at the other boy with one eye cracked open. "You have a key, you couldn't just let yourself in?"

"I was hoping you'd come out, actually." Steve bounced his hand, letting the rocks drop back to the ground around his feet. "I've got a surprise for you."

"A surprise, huh? And it couldn't wait until tomorrow?" Eddie heaved a put-upon sigh, his head tipping back and his gaze catching the swirls of paint on his ceiling. "All right. Let me grab my shoes."

Steve grinned and watched as Eddie disappeared back into the darkness of his bedroom.

Eddie climbed out the window and dropped carefully to his feet. It pulled his scars, made his joints complain, made Steve curse and step forward to help him. He held his hands out with both thumbs up to show he was okay before tugging his leather jacket on. "This better be good, Harrington."

Steve just grinned and jogged to his car to grab a black totebag. "It will be. I hope you brought your keys, Munson."

Eddie was dying to know what was in the bag, what couldn't have waited, but found that he was willing to be a little patient if Steve kept smiling the way he was. He followed after Steve to unlock the van, and a few moments later they were bumping their way down the road in Eddie's new used van.

The quarry stretched out before them. Eddie smoked a cigarette while he watched the place where the stars and the ground met. Even if he hadn't been threatened with loss of life and limb if he'd tried to watch what Steve was doing with the black bag behind him, the horizon was where his eyes would've strayed to anyway.

There were a million possibilities in that horizon. He could point the van and just drive until he ran out of gas, start over as whoever and whatever he wanted to be. It made him feel small, insignificant, but not in a way that made him feel bad. It was comforting, knowing that there were stil places he could go where people wouldn't think of dead teenagers as soon as they heard his name. He just had to get up and do it.

And he would. Someday. Eventually.

Still, as beautiful and comforting as the horizon was, the sound of paper, of a tape dispenser, the crinkling of plastic, it was definitely harder than usual to keep his eyes locked there and not behind him.

"C'mon, Harrington. How much longer is this gonna take?"

"I'm almost finished— Eddie I told you, do not turn around!" Steve said. "I tried to do this before I woke you up but your van was locked. Now just— be patient."

Eddie rolled his eyes, but he was smiling as he tossed the cigarette butt to the ground and stubbed it out with the toe of his sneaker.

There was the flicking of a lighter that washed the van in Eddie's peripheral vision a soft orange color. "Okay, look."

Eddie turned around with a smartass remark ready, but it died on his tongue.

There were streamers taped to the walls of the van, and there were plastic champagne flutes sitting next to a cake that had something nearly illeligable written on it. And there was Steve, smiling almost shyly as he picked the cake up, showing the candles he'd lit around one edge of the cake. Candlelight flickered over his face, danced in his eyes, and Eddie felt his breath catch in his chest.

"Happy… what?" he asked, when he managed to talk again.

"Anniversary," Steve said, flushing. "Sorry, it said happy birthday and I had to wipe that off, but then I had a hard time trying to write over it. But— you should blow the candles out before your cake gets coated in wax."

Eddie leaned in and blew the candles out, turning the van dark again. "Hold on." He dug in the crate he'd learned to keep full of shit that would come in handy in an emergency and came away with an "A-ha!" before turning the little lantern on. It filled the van with gentle orange light again. It didn't dance the way the candlelight had, but Eddie was still struck once more by how beautiful Steve was.

It didn't last for long, because it occurred to him that he wasn't sure what exactly they were celebrating.

"So… what… anniversary is this?" he asked.

Steve huffed out a laugh and passed over a plastic fork. "You don't remember?"

"Shit, no. I'm not good with— any of those things." Eddie ran a hand over the back of his neck. "I'm sorry, man, it's— I'll try to remember next time."

"Eddie, it's okay. It's… it's your anniversary." Steve picked wax drips off of the cake, avoiding Eddie's eyes. "You woke up a year ago today."

Eddie was quiet for a long moment. He could only watch Steve, until he noticed more pink flood into Steve's cheeks as the other boy looked up at him again. "I did?" he asked finally. "You… you remember?"

"They thought you might never wake up," Steve said, shaking his head. "Jesus, man. I spent so long at your bedside. We— we all did, just… begging you to wake up. Then… you did." He flicked a piece of wax onto the store bag he'd pulled the cake out of. "Of course I remember." He shrugged one shoulder, and Eddie all but heard the, "how could I not?" that he didn't say out loud.

Of course Steve had remembered. Steve, who had spent so many hours, so many days sitting beside Eddie's bed. Eddie didn't remember any of it, but he did remember the first face he saw when he woke up. He remembered Steve, slumped down in the uncomfortable hospital chair, his legs hanging over the arm of it. He'd been dozing lightly, at at the smallest movement from Eddie he'd been up and beside Eddie's bed, grabbing his hand and ringing for the nurses.

Steve's relief had been palpable. He'd looked the way Eddie had felt. He still looked that way sometimes, when Eddie caught him not watching whatever movie they had on. It was like Steve could hardly believe that Eddie was there, like he might've been lost if Eddie hadn't survived.

Eddie watched the way the lamplight played on Steve's face, casting part of it in shadow. Somehow he hadn't just survived, but he'd found this beautiful boy who liked spending time with him, who listened to him talk about D&D and music. Steve remembered, too— or tried to. After all of the thumps to the head, some of the details slipped away sometimes. But Eddie could see how hard he tried.

Steve made Eddie want to try, too. Made Eddie want to learn about sports even after all the shit he'd said about them in high school, just so he could chime in when Steve and Wayne were watching the game together. He liked the way Steve smiled when he noticed Eddie listening to him, too. He wanted Steve to always smile like that.

He wanted to be the one to make Steve smile like that.

Not for the first time, Eddie found himself wanting to kiss Steve Harrington.

Only this time, for the first time, he actually did.

Their first kiss tasted like chocolate cake and champagne and Eddie never wanted it to end. Even so, it didn't last long.

When Steve pulled back he looked surprised, but he was smiling. "What was that for?"

"Something else for us to remember when this rolls around again next year," Eddie said.

Steve's smile softened, and Eddie felt his heart skip a beat in his chest. "I like the sound of that," he said. "Maybe we should keep practicing, to have something even better to remember next year."

Eddie laughed, but when Steve leaned in again, he was happy to meet in the middle.