#eddie is having all sorts of complicated feelings about steve here

[afewproblems]

Season 2 Halloween AU Part Four

Part One, Part Two, Part Three

A very big thank you to @strangersteddierthings for chatting with me today and being such a great sounding board for the next update!

Synopsis: What if Eddie had been at Tina's Halloween Party in Season Two? Featuring Steve!Whump, Stancy Breakup, and Eddie just trying to keep up with all these new revelations about who King-Steve actually is...

***

"So…I have to ask," Eddie blurts out, cutting through the awkward silence that has fallen between them, "how were you gonna pick up your car before you ran into me?"

"I don't think it counts as running into you, if you were waiting for me Munson," Steve side steps the question expertly, flashing him a strange smirk that seems out of place. It falls after a second and twists into something pained.

"I was hoping Nance would take me," Steve says eventually, his voice soft, "which was pretty stupid in hindsight, 'specially cuz she was counting on me to drive her this morning, which--"

Steve cuts himself, snapping his mouth shut with a harsh click of teeth, he shakes his head and lifts his hand to run roughly through his hair.

"Doesn't matter anymore".

Eddie holds his breath, feeling the conversation begin to shift. It's as though he's stepped onto a tightrope and any wrong move could potentially send him over the edge.

He settles for nodding once, turning the key in the ignition.

Steve sighs and lets himself fall back into his seat, "I know you know already, the whole fucking school does, Billy saw to that," Steve gestures to his face, "say what you really want to ask". 

Eddie's fingers tighten around the wheel as he turns them out of the parking lot, fighting the immediate urge to say, 'why did Miss Priss throw it all away?' 

"You think I believe the rumours that come out of that shithole?" Eddie lies, keeping his eyes on the road this time.

He can feel Steve's unimpressed stare as they continue down mainstreet.

"Right, so you had no clue I was in detention?"

Eddie chews the inside of his cheek to fight the sly grin that begins to creep over his face, "Alright smart ass".

He hazards another glance at Steve as they begin to hit the residential area, he looks so different from the night before.

His limbs are loose, tension free, if it weren't for the heavy bags under Steve's eyes and the nervous tap of his fingers on the passenger door, Eddie would think he was finally relaxed.

"I knew a fight definitely happened, it's Hargrove," Eddie says slowly, carefully weighing his words, "but I typically prefer to hear the whole sordid story from the source before I pass any judgements, ya know?" 

Steve doesn't say anything as they continue driving through residential  the houses getting progressively bigger as they go.

"Did you," Steve pauses and breathes out slowly before shaking his head and lifting his face to meet Eddie's gaze, "is that offer for something stronger still open?" 

Eddie smiles, "I think that can be arranged". 

***

Eddie pulls over beside Tina Cline's house, wincing as the right front tire rolls over the curb and bounces the van as it lands on the street once more, startling a snort out of Steve. 

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up Harrington," Eddie huffs as Steve shoots him a grin.

"Didn't say a word," Steve hums, unbuckling himself from the seat. Eddie watches as he opens the door and hops out. For a moment Eddie worries Steve will pull the same disappearing act from last night but he simply stops beside his car door and motions for Eddie to roll down his window. 

Eddie cracks his door open instead, "window's broken, what?" 

Steve rolls his eyes, "whatever Munson, you know the way? It's north on 5th and--"

"Then two more rights, yeah man," Eddie says with a laugh in his voice, "I dropped you off remember?" 

"Fuck off," Steve huffs out, he's grinning though.

Steve swings the Beemer’s door open and slides in. He turns on the ignition and flinches at the loud burst of music from the stereo, the volume obviously set from the mood of the previous night. 

'I want to know what love is, I want you to show me--'

Steve slams his hand against the console, cutting off the song with a harsh crack. 

The van is parked just behind the Beemer so Eddie can't see Steve's face, but his head drops down onto the wheel for just the briefest moment before he slowly lifts it, turns on his signal and pulls away from the curb. 

***

Steve beats him to the house.

He's getting out of the car, which is parked on the long driveway as Eddie pulls up to the street. 

Eddie hops out of the van, hiking his backpack higher up on his shoulders, not bothering to lock it. Who would even want his shitty van among the BMWs and Mercedes parked down this street --hell, Eddie could have sworn he saw a Jag three houses down.

Eddie stops short of the lawn. The Harrington house is so different in the light of day, the strange emptiness that seemed to ooze out of the dark windows the night before has disappeared, leaving an ordinary house in its wake. 

"Well?" Steve calls out as he pulls a pair of keys from his back pocket and spins them once on his finger, "you coming or what Munson?" 

Eddie rolls his eyes and jogs to catch up to Steve who turns on his heel to stride up the walk. He stuffs the key into the deadbolt and swings one of the double doors inwards before shucking off his sneakers.

No shoes? Fucking rich people man.

Steve must notice Eddie's expression because he blushes and shrugs, "I know, I know, but my parents will be home for Thanksgiving this year so…may as well…"

He gestures around the sterile foyer with a tight smile, as though it explains everything. 

If anything, Eddie has more questions. 

Steve cuts off the thought by clearing his throat, "we should smoke outside, last thing I need is for you to burn a hole in the couch or something".

Eddie steps over the threshold and has to stop himself from whistling, were the ceilings always this high in this place?

He lifts his foot to unlace his left chuck, snorting at the strange little table in the middle of the foyer. A giant vase sits atop it filled with a mixture of what have to be silk flowers --no way they were real. He pulls the shoe off and tosses it to the side before lifting his right foot. 

Eddie never had the greatest balance so he hops back and forth with his right foot in the air before hopping as close as he can to the wall of the foyer and leaning back against it.

He finally gets the knot in his laces undone and throws the sneaker to the floor, dropping his right foot to the hardwood.

Eddie looks up to find Steve staring with a bemused expression on his face, he ignores the wide hazel eyes and removes the backpack from his shoulders -which can't have been helping the balance issue. 

Eddie unzips the top and yanks out the trusty metal lunchbox, sliding a wicked grin into place.

"You said something about outside?"

***

By the time they've settled, facing one another on a couple of pool loungers, the sun has begun to dip low, painting the patio and empty pool a warm glowing copper. It catches Steve's hair, which shines like gold in the dying sunlight, like some Autumnal Fae King--

Eddie wants to slap himself, suddenly thankful for the November wind that cuts through the backyard, forcing him to chillout.

He picks up the grinder from his lunchbox, unscrewing the cap to open it.

"You good with a joint this evening my good King?" 

He pours a handful of a new strain Rick let him try the other day into the grinder and starts twisting. It's not something he would typically share with anyone other than Jeff, but Steve seemed like he could use something a little more special tonight.

Eddie looks up after a beat of silence, "yo, Major Tom, you with me?" 

Steve's face is pinched, tilted towards the empty pool, "please don't call me that," he says quietly.

"Major Tom?"

Steve raises his eyes to meet Eddie's gaze, his mouth cuts a hard line across his face, the typical easy grin it usually houses is gone. 

"King-Steve," he runs a hand through his hair, letting the fingers linger to grip and pull, "I just, that's not who I am anymore, I don't--"

Steve swallows harshly, "that's all anyone could talk about this morning".

He drops his voice and octave, "oh, King Steve is so pussy whipped he let his girl fuck Jonathan Byers before she dumped him".

"Is that what Hargrove said?" Eddie asks quietly as he pours out a portion of weed onto a paper.

Steve shakes his head, "that was Tommy, but that wasn't why I hit him". 

Eddie nods, and lifts the joint to his mouth to run his tongue along the edge of the paper. Steve watches him from the lounger, his eyes follow the movement before he blinks and continues.

"Tommy and I had been best friends since we were five, he uh, he knows a lot about me," Steve lifts his hand to his mouth and chews the nail of his thumb briefly before dropping it back into his lap.

"Stuff I don't tell anyone, stuff he knows will hurt". 

Eddie nods, twisting the joint closed, he can kind of understand that, although the only person in his life that knew him like that was Wayne.  

And Wayne would never hurt him. 

Did Steve really not have anyone else like that in his life, someone he could tell anything to that wouldn't look at him weird or judge him. Someone safe.

"Anyway, Hargrove started in on me after that, but he's been fucking with me for awhile so," Steve shrugs again, "he saw his big opportunity here".

"Hargrove's been messing with you?" Eddie asks sharply as he pours more weed onto another paper. He lifts it and runs his tongue along the edge of the paper before twisting it into shape. When he looks up, Steve's ears have gone slightly pink and he's sitting strangely, slightly hunched and twisted.

"Yeah," Steve says after a moment, he clears his throat and straightens his back, "yeah, it's just been at practice so far, and I thought it was just because he wanted to one up me for my spot but," he shakes his head, "it's getting worse". 

"You know, I have a bit of a reputation around school," Eddie says slowly, carefully, watching as Steve freezes and looks at Eddie with wide eyes.

"The Hellfire club is more than just the game we're playing, it's also kind of a sanctuary for kids that don't have anyone to lean on, we look after each other," Eddie continues, ignoring the way Steve relaxes slightly, "you wouldn't need to play or anything but if you need somewhere to sit at lunch now…" 

Steve looks at Eddie for a long time, his expression blank, guarded, "really? Just like that?" 

"Yeah man, besides I get to use my 'Mean and Scary Guy' persona on these fuckers so it's a win-win for me".

Steve grins, raising one skeptical eyebrow, "mean and scary?"

Eddie bristles a little bit at the questioning tone in Steve's voice and can't quite swallow the urge to snarl, "yeah I mean you looked plenty scared of the town freak yesterday". 

Steve winces and immediately starts to shake his head, inching forward in his seat so he's even closer to Eddie, their knees are almost touching.

"That's not, I wasn't," he stops and takes a deep breath, "I was upset about Nancy and it was so dark outside, the trees--"

"You afraid of the dark Harrington?" Eddie cuts him off, the lingering irritation still simmers in his voice as he coos. 

Steve just looks at him, there's something strange about the haunted expression on his face that makes the hair on the back of Eddie's arms stand on end. 

"Things happen in the dark, in the woods," Steve says softly, his eyes drift to the empty pool again. 

Eddie opens his mouth to ask Steve what the hell he means by that, when a voice shouts across the yard.

"Steve? STEVE?!" 

The sound of someone running through the grass has them both of their feet, the joints forgotten on the pool loungers. 

"Dustin?" 

A kid, he can't be more than twelve or thirteen, skids into the porchlight that has replaced the last copper rays of evening light, the sun fully set by now. The kid's blue eyes are wide underneath a mop of curly hair and hat, he's breathing hard.

"I need your help".

Tag List: @eriquin @luvinthefreaks @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @goodolefashionedloverboi @ellietheasexylibrarian @bambibiest @sadboislovebeans @howincrediblysapphicofyou @coleys-a-nerd @whycantiuseunderscore @airconditioning123 @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @corrodedbisexual @starman-jpg @ilovecupcakesandtea @yoriposts @clumsiluni @pelinelin @phantomcat94 @lololol-1234 @anaibis @airconditioning123 @steveshairspray @hellfireone @sunswathe @eddielives1986 @tentativeghost @robin-not-batman @estrellami-1 @manda-panda-monium @tinyplanet95 @perseus-notjackson

Part Five

and for some peeps that I think may be interested! @steddierthings @steddie-there @steves-strapcollection @outpastthebrakers @henderdads @stevesbipanic

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

can you see the stars in your dreams (and do they have a lot to say about me) - Part 14

Or: a secret Admirer AU

TW: homophic language used due to internalized homophobia

PART 1 || PART 2 || PART 3 || PART 4 || PART 5 || PART 6 || PART 7 || PART 8 || PART 9 || PART 10 || PART 11 || PART 1 || PART 13

Steve doesn’t know what’s worse, not being able to see the expression on Eddie’s face, or the moment he turns around and he can see it. He looks like Steve just shot his dog. But, wouldn’t Chrissy be the dog in that metaphor? Steve drops it before Robin can somehow sense his train of thought and burst into the room with the sole purpose of punching him.

“So, what?” Eddie asks, voice sharp and angry. “This was all just some joke? Pick on the freak? Make him think a pretty girl actually likes him?”

Any sadness he’d been feeling is wiped off his face now, masked over with a tired sort of rage. It’s tempting to go along with Eddie’s assumptions. Yes, it was all just a joke. Yes, they’d all been laughing behind his back for weeks on end. After all, Eddie doesn’t look hurt, he looks pissed.

But, it’s too late. Steve had already seen the anguish in Eddie’s eyes before he’d banked it.

“No,” Steve murmurs, only noticing that Eddie’s mid-tirade when he stops talking. His head’s buzzing too loud to hear much else. “It wasn’t a joke.”

Eddie scoffs, waiting in pointed silence until Steve raises his head and meets his eyes. “Then how do you explain all this?” He gyrates his hand around the room, encompassing all four of their bodies with jerky movements. “Huh, Harrington?”

Steve swallows. He hopes it’s not as audible to everyone else as it is in his own ears, but by the way Eddie’s gaze snaps down to it before pulling back up to meet his eyes again, that hope is futile.

“I just—” Steve starts, forcing himself to keep looking at Eddie, even as his eyes flay him open. “It wasn’t supposed to get this complicated.”

“What does that mean?” Eddie asks, gritting out every word, body leaning toward Steve like he wants to reach across the distance between them and strangle him.

“I just like you, okay?” Steve snaps. Eddie jerks back like he’d just taken a blow. “I liked you, and I thought this would be a good way to, I don’t know, work through it?”

“You like me?” Eddie asks, almost laughing, just like that day in the cafeteria when he was singling out the jocks, just like he always does when something’s not funny but he’s pretending it is.

It hurts anyway.

“I’m sorry,” Steve mutters, staring down at his own lap, unable to look at anyone in the room. “I didn’t mean to make it your problem.”

“Didn’t mean to—” Eddie snaps, and Steve sees an abrupt enough movement that Steve’s afraid Eddie’s going to hit him. Steve jerks back into the couch, heartbeat rabbiting in his chest, but all Eddie’s done is stand, hands clenched, mouth snarling. “How the hell is tricking me into thinking Chrissy Cunningham liked me not making it my problem?”

“Eddie—“ Jeff cuts in, tone a warning, but Eddie doesn’t even seem to notice.

“You really think that’s ‘not making it my problem?’” Eddie asks, throwing finger quotations around it mockingly as he glares down at Steve. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Steve feels small, wishes he was smaller—he wants to sink into the cracks of the Munson’s ratty couch and never be seen again. This moment is too much for him.

He’s known ever since that moment in the cafeteria when Eddie’d pressed his lips to Chrissy’s hand that they’d end up here. He knew, but he’d kept writing the letters, kept Chrissy embroiled into his mess. Chrissy who’s standing silent and shocked behind Eddie, hand pressed to her mouth as Steve’s mess implodes around him.

“I’m sorry,” Steve replies, voice small. He’s not sure if he’s talking to Eddie, or Chrissy, or hell, even Jeff. He just knows that he really, truly is sorry.

“You’re sorry?” Eddie demands, and he’s pacing now, hands fisted into his own hair. “You’re sorry for what? For derailing my life? For making me think someone might actually like me? For what?”

Steve doesn’t say anything as he watches Eddie’s movements become more frenetic. He’s pulling his hair hard now, and all Steve wants to do is reach out and grab Eddie’s hands, make him stop hurting himself. But, it’s not his place, so he clenches his hands into fists atop his own thighs and looks up at the boy he likes unraveling at the seams. Because of him.

“The first time a girl actually likes me and it’s you.” It lands like venom, leaching through all the sinew and bone of Steve’s body and turning his beating heart into a pulpy mess. “What, you thought just because everyone calls me a freak that I’d be a quee—”

“Eddie!” It’s Chrissy and Jeff, both shouting out at the same time, clearly trying to get Eddie to stop talking before he says something irreversible.

It’s too late: Steve’s already heard him.

He doesn’t know what his own face is doing, but when Eddie finally looks at him, his face goes white, then turns sort of green like he’s going to be sick. When he takes a halting step forward, Steve can’t help the way he presses further into the couch, hands shaking where they’re still clenching in his lap.

He wants to scream, or cry, or die so he doesn’t have to do this anymore. But, Eddie’s right, this is all his fault, so the least he can do is offer up an explanation.

“It’s not Chrissy’s fault,” Steve says, looking down at his own shaking hands, willing them to lie still. “Or Jeff’s. I dragged them into this, so don’t be mad at them, okay?”

“Steve—” Chrissy says, voice choking with emotion.

“I was afraid.” Steve talks right over her, doesn’t even look her way. He can’t, or he’ll break. “But, that’s no excuse for making you have to deal with my bullshit.”

“Steve,” Chrissy tries again.

“I’m sorry.” Steve finally looks up from his lap, meeting Eddie’s fathomless eyes. “I’ll leave you alone now.”

Steve gets up on shaky legs and walks to the trailer’s front door, giving Eddie a wide berth. No one says anything as he makes his way through the small living room, or when he opens the door and steps through.

It’s only as the door’s shutting closed behind him that he hears Eddie say, “Shit Harrington, wait.”

Steve doesn’t. He walks down the Munson’s drive and straight out of the trailer park.

No one follows him.

***

The silence hangs like a noose in the trailer after the click of the door closing quietly behind Harrington’s drooping frame. Eddie stares into nothing, entirely blank.

“That was cruel.” It’s Chrissy who says it. Chrissy, who pretended to like him, who led him on, who…was just trying to protect her friend.

“Not any crueler than he was to me,” Eddie mutters, still staring at the closed door feeling inexplicably like he should run after him.

Instead, he turns his back on the door and tries to forget the slope of Harrington’s shoulders as he’d walked out on him.

His brain’s full of fog, emotions swirling around too quickly for him to catch any of them. He can’t make sense of any of this. Not Chrissy who pretended to like him or Steve Harrington, who actually did, not—

“You—” Eddie starts, eyes focusing as something else takes over his brain as he sets his sights on Jeff. “You knew?”

Jeff grimaces, but straightens his spine and tilts his chin up like Eddie’s the enemy now. “Yeah,” he says, all flippant, as if Eddie’s world isn’t shattering around his feet. “I knew.”

Eddie laughs, can’t help it with the way anger’s pooling in his gut. “And you didn’t tell me?”

“It was Steve’s secret to te—”

“Screw Steve!” Eddie shouts, suddenly enough that Chrissy takes a startled step back. “You’re supposed to be my friend.”

Jeff scoffs, stepping in front of Chrissy. “Your friend?” he demands with an incredulous laugh that makes Eddie want to strangle him. “You didn’t even tell me about the letters in the first fucking place!”

He stomps forward, coming at Eddie like he’s going to do—something, Eddie will never know what because Chrissy wraps her arm around his waist and pulls him back with a chiding, worried, “Jeff.”

Eddie stares at the way her fingers curl proprietarily into the fabric of his t-shirt, the way he steadies under her touch and takes a step back, the way he stands in the cradle of her hold like it’s his birthright.

“Hold—hold on,” Eddie says, holding his hand out like that’ll stop the dots from connecting in his own mind. “Are you two—”

He doesn’t finish the thought, can’t put words to what he’s accusing them of, not right now. But, as he flails his fingers between them, they both look at the floor, in goddamn sync, even with their own guilt. “Are you fucking serious right now?”

Anger’s always been Eddie’s worst enemy; he’s pretty sure it’s an inherited trait from his pa, the way rage makes his blood boil, makes him take things too far, makes him react like verbal words are a physical threat. Just like his pa, no matter how much he doesn’t want to be.

“So, you what?” he asks, whole body shaking with the force of his anger. “Decided to lead me on while fucking my best friend?”

He laughs, sharp and mean when Chrissy jerks like he slapped her. He clenches his fist against the desire to do just that.

“You don’t get to talk to her like that,” Jeff replies quietly, like that’ll make him the reasonable one.

“Fuck o—“

“You don’t own her,” Jeff interrupts him, Eddie screams in his throat, wild with the fire burning through him.

Jeff sighs, low and disappointed, just like Uncle Wayne does if Hop picks Eddie up for some trumped-up charges, or he fails another pop quiz, or he brings in more money he can’t explain to his Uncle. 

The thought of Wayne is what does him in. Even in absentia, that old man brings him back to himself. Eddie shudders, takes a step back and stares at the carpet beneath his toes, trying to bank his anger back beneath his ribs where it can’t hurt anyone else.

“I’m sorry we hurt you,” Jeff continues, voice soft, soft soft. “And I’m sorry I didn’t tell you what was going on. But Eddie?”

It takes a long moment for Eddie to drag gaze away from his own feet and up to Jeff’s face. Jeff waits, silent, until Eddie meets his eyes.

“You need to figure your own shit out, too,” he says gently. “Because if you don’t? You’re going to hurt everyone around you, not just Steve.”

Eddie looks back at the door Harrington—Steve—had walked through, feelings twisting around on themselves until they’re choking him.

“Harrington,” Eddie starts, throat catching on the consonants of his name like it’d been years since he last spoke. “Did he really—?”

He can’t finish this thought either, hopes Jeff or Chrissy will pluck it from his mind and answer it for him.

“Like you?” Jeff asks, waiting for Eddie to nod his assent before answering. “Yeah, man. He does.”

The present tense is what does him in. Does. Steve Harrington, king of the jocks, liar, boy, likes him. Enough to write letters to him. He doesn’t know what to do with this, where to put it in the reality of his life.

“Oh.”

“You can’t tell anyone, Eddie,” Chrissy says, taking a step around Jeff to look up at Eddie with pleading eyes. “They’ll kill him.”

It’s only then, staring at the terror on Chrissy’s face, that the magnitude of the secret he’s just learned sinks in. Harrington, lady-killer, probable prom king, jock extraordinaire, is queer.

The vindictive part of Eddie he tries to keep caged wants to sling this around— Harrington’s just comeuppance for every time he’s made the rest of them feel less than, feel like a freak. But, even with his anger barely banked, Eddie knows the punishment wouldn’t fit the crime.

Harrington had, what? Laughed snidely behind Hagan after standing by while he’d seen a nerd get his books knocked out of his hands? Had been born with a perfect face and perfect hair in a castle of a house, so he’d been idolized for it.

Telling wouldn’t take that all away—it’d leave Harrington dead.

Even Hagan doesn’t deserve that.

So, all Eddie says is, “I won’t,” quietly, hoping she believes him.

She sighs, slumping into Jeff, trusting him to hold her up. Eddie doesn’t want to see it anymore; he can’t be in the same room as those two and not let the fire in his blood bleed through to his words.

He stands, stiff, unsure, and asks, “can you guys just go?”

“Eddie—“

“Jeff, please,” Eddie asks, voice breaking on the last word.

“Okay.”

Jeff ushers Chrissy out of his trailer and, just before the door shuts behind him, Eddie calls out, “Jeff?”

“Yeah, buddy?” Jeff calls back, not turning back around, not closing the door.

“I’ll call you,” he says, hoping it’s loud enough for his friend to hear. “Okay?”

Jeff doesn’t point out the lack of time frame or the way Eddie’s voice shakes. He’s good like that, always has been, no matter how mad they get at each other. “You call, and I’ll pick up.”

Without another word, Jeff lets the door close. Eddie stands there stationary until he hears the sound of a car starting, kicking up gravel all the way out of the trailer park. Only then, does he collapse onto the couch and bury his head in his hands.

It’s a mistake—the pressure of his hand making pain bloom hard and fast on the bruise on his eyes. Eddie groans, tired, in pain, and completely done. He wants Uncle Wayne to brush his hair out of his face, wants Jeff to sit at his side, or Gareth to light a joint for him, or Chrissy to bump their shoulders together. 

He wants—

The bag of frozen peas Harrington had handed him have gone mushy and warm.

The trailer’s quiet, and Eddie’s all alone.

PART 15

[chelseeebe]

still into you

after abruptly leaving hawkins (and you) seven years ago, eddie munson, ex-boyfriend turned rockstar, makes a grand return. how will things pan out when your lives couldn’t be further apart?

this has been in the drafts for god knows how long and you can definitely tell where my writing started to improve as i came back to it.. hope y’all enjoy anyway! this is so long good lord. also includes a bit of bestfriendism with stevie!

18+. mdni. smut. mentions of alcohol. eddie is a dickhead. no use of y/n!

read part two here.

‎♡‧₊˚

‘you know he’s coming back next weekend?’ steve mutters, nodding towards you as you rip the sellotape from the brown box, beginning to stack the cans of soup.

‘is he? oh my god oh my god,’ feigning excitement with a straight face.

you’d already known he was coming back, you’d received the invitation just like everybody else. except, you’d swiftly put the gimmicky piece of paper into the trash and got on with your day. confused why everyone else seemed to be losing their goddamn minds over it.

he huffs quietly, helping you with the heavy tins, ‘are you gonna go?’ steve didn’t actually work in melvalds but came in on his breaks purely to chat and distract you from your work.

‘am i gonna go? hmm, let me think.. no.’

‘he wants to see you.. you should come,’ prodding his elbow into your side, collapsing the box into a flat piece of cardboard.

‘you spoke to him?’ ears perking up. you didn’t care if he’d mentioned you. no, really.

‘yeah.. he called a few weeks ago, y’know when the invitations got sent out,’ picking up the next box to start filling the shelf.

‘oh! it’s nice to know he called you and just hilarious to know i never got a phone call,’ getting frankly quite sick of hearing about eddie fucking munson and his grand return.

once upon a time, eddie had actually been your boyfriend. must’ve been 7 or so years ago by this point.. anyway, that was before he’d got his big break and decided that he was going to completely forget about hawkins.. and about you. you’d still been together after his first tiny tour, excitedly waiting for him to come home when he just.. never did.

he’d had the decency to at least call and tell you that he was breaking up with you.. we’re just in different places right now.. it’s not you.. i don’t want you to ruin your life waiting for me..

it was essentially a whole bunch of bullshit, because the very next month he was spotted with some bottle blonde model looking suspiciously close at some club he’d have absolutely hated the year prior. it was like a punch to the gut, flicking through the pages of the trashy magazine just knowing that you hadn’t been enough for this new lifestyle of his.

from then on, you’d decided to disengage with any and everything about him. turning the tv off when corroded coffin came on one of the morning talk shows, leaving the room at parties when one of his song’s inevitably came on and just completely blanking out of the conversation when his name was brought up. it was easier that way, saved your feelings and the awkward glances you’d get.

at some point things had become slightly more complicated and you’re not sure how exactly it had happened but you had wound up pregnant. and by jason carver no less. maybe it was your shared disdain for eddie that had brought you together. who knows?

but it had happened and now you had to deal with it. and although jason may come in a close second to world’s biggest assholes.. you had gained a beautiful daughter from it all and had become quite content with your single mom life.

people had come and gone, robin jetting off to some fancy college in california.. jonathan and nancy ending up in new york at some hot-shot newspaper.. the kids you’d sort of gathered had all gone off to various colleges, becoming adults themselves. all except for steve.

steve had stayed in hawkins like you, begrudgingly following his father’s footsteps, getting a job at his accounting firm. it was good money and kept his dad happy so he couldn’t fault it really. he’d even got his own place just down the street from your house and at some point you’d just accepted that he was probably your only friend in hawkins.

it had brought the two of you undeniably closer and maybe you’d even call him your best friend now. well, except for right now as he was beginning to piss you off with all this fussing over eddie.

‘you have to come.. it’s not just for him, everyone is going.. it’s a reunion,’ steve continues to pester you despite your efforts to shut him down.

‘steve, i’m not going and that’s that.’

he sighs, staring at you with a blank expression, ‘okay, well.. i’ll tell him it’s a maybe,’ checking his watch before frowning, ‘shit, i’m late.. i’ll see you later,’ throwing the empty cardboard to the floor before dashing off down the aisle, giving you an exaggerated wave as he disappears.

you just knew that he was not going to drop this until you agreed to go. but he could kick and scream as much as he liked, you had absolutely zero desire to go this flimsy reunion and even less desire to see eddie in the flesh.

-

it’s another dull week of stacking shelves and managing a team of absolute morons and before you know it, it’s the day before that fucking reunion and steve is still as incessant as ever that you must go.

‘my mom can look after ella.. please just come,’ he sounded like he was a second away from getting on his knees to actually beg you to go.

you’d started to just ignore him now, getting on with whatever you were doing, choosing to give him the silent treatment. he hated that.

‘you’re so annoying,’ he scoffs, still helping you unbox the bags of chips, ‘will you just come for five minutes.. you don’t even have to talk to eddie, it’s the first time we’ll all be together again.. puh-leaseee,’ breaking into a weird sort of sing-song tone.

you exhale through your nose, visibly frustrated by the man, ‘i’m going to ban you in a minute,’ raising your eyebrows, taking the same tone you used when ella was being a brat.

‘no you won’t,’ furrowing his brows, ‘what if i promise to stand in between you the whole night? i’ll beat him with a stick if he even tries to talk to you,’ completely serious with what he just said.

you chortle, covering your mouth as one of the elderly customers walks past, slightly bewildered by the noise that just escaped your mouth, ‘couldn’t you just beat him with a stick anyway?’

‘ehh.. not really, he is paying for the whole thing,’ straightening the bags of air he’d just placed on the shelf, ‘i mean, i could if you really want me to.’

you roll your eyes, of course he was. he’d rented the fanciest restaurant just outside of town for your gaggle of pals. any chance to flaunt the fact that he’d made it out of this hell hole and left the rest of you in the dirt.

‘i have a child, steve, i can’t just go out and leave her at home.. some of us aren’t free like you are,’ turning to face him with a stern hand on your hip.

‘i just told you my mom’ll look after her.. she hasn’t seen her in so long and.. and you can stay at mine and i’ll take you to her first thing in the morning,’ his eyes are round, glimmering in the harsh overhead lights.

‘i don’t have anything to wear,’ shrugging, you really didn’t. becoming a mother isn’t quite so glamorous and a lot of clothes you’d once fit into had become a little tight.

‘when d’you finish?’

narrowing your eyes at him, ‘two..’

‘great.. okay well, i’ll take a half-day and we can go shopping.. on me,’ wiggling his eyebrows at you. the thing about steve is that he believes that most problems can be solved by throwing money at it.

he wasn’t wrong, of course.

because you reluctantly agree to go shopping with him on the condition that you weren’t definitely going to this thing. you were just going to try on dresses. that was it.

-

you get a cab to the restaurant, there was no way in hell you were doing this sober nor did you want to subject steve to being sober for your sake. palms clammy as you clamber out of the vehicle, immediately regretting your decision.

no one would care if you didn’t go, right? you could quite easily just get back into the taxi and go home without forcing yourself to endure the night.

steve’s one step ahead of you, grabbing your hand so you can’t run away. throwing him an awful glare but you weren’t really mad, just annoyed that he’d succeeded in persuading you to come.

‘c’mon.. it won’t be so bad once you’re in there,’ smoothing down his fresh shirt as he begins to walk up the winding path, dragging you along behind him.

he’s wrong. it’s so much worse inside. the place was huge, extravagantly decorated and full of people you’d once regarded as your best friends, all too busy in their own conversations to notice you and steve walk in.

it wasn’t like you hadn’t heard from them, it had just been through occasional letters and christmas cards rather than seeing them face to face. robin would call sometimes, fill you in on whatever she had been up to and beg to speak to ella who absolutely loved it. you were sure they were on the same wavelength.

you look to steve with wary eyes, digging your fingertips into his hand, ‘we could just leave right now.. no one would even know,’ tugging gently on his arm.

‘hey,’ he whispers, ‘it’s okay.. look, robin’s coming over, we’ll say hi and see how you feel,’ using his spare hand to wave at the bubbly girl, dropping your hand to give her a hug.

‘oh my god,’ she rushes, ‘how are you? you look so good.. and i don’t mean you,’ pulling away from steve to throw her arms around you, her gentle hands rubbing on your back.

‘hah, it’s nice to see you too,’ steve rolls his eyes, grabbing two of the champagne flutes being ferried around by fancy waiters.

she pulls back, ‘i didn’t think you were coming.. how are you doing? how’s ella?’ the words falling out of her mouth at super speed, it was as if her mouth moved before her brain did.

‘i wasn’t gonna but i wanted to see you guys,’ you nod, taking the glass from steve’s outstretched hand and taking a lengthy sip, ‘i’m okay.. ella’s okay.. you’ll have to come and see her before you leave.’

‘i will i will! i literally landed like two hours ago and had to rush but i’m back until friday,’ her hands flying around as she spoke, ‘come and say hello..’ her arm intertwines with yours as she leans in closer to your ear, ‘he’s staring y’know..’

your eyes roll back on their own, not even wanting to search the room for him, ‘i’m not speaking to him so he can stare all he likes,’ straightening up as you approach the group robin had left.

nancy’s talking to max about something in incredible detail but is quite to stop when you approach, mouth in a small ‘o’ as she hugs you, ‘you came? i thought we were gonna miss you,’ grinning wide when she pulls back.

you give an overdramatic sigh, ‘of course i had to come.. you’d all miss me too much,’ waving to the rest of the group.

there are a lot of small pleasantries swapped, asking about their journey’s here and how they’d been.. standard small talk. but then el asks to see a picture of ella, ecstatic that their names were so similar. you’d come prepared, pulling the creased picture out of your bag.

they all gush and coo over her, it was a picture you’d snapped from her first day of kindergarten, cheesing with her pigtails and pink hair bobbles. passing it around the gathered group, still steadily sipping on the bitter champagne.

‘who’s that?’ eddie asks, you hadn’t noticed him sidle over to the crowd, stood peering over lucas’ shoulder at the photograph.

your eyes meet his, seeing his face for the first time in what felt like centuries. he looked older, obviously, still sporting the same long curls except now it actually looked as if it’d been styled. he’s in a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, forearms now littered with tattoos and a nice looking watch. your heart just about stops beating when you realise you’ll now have to explain exactly who that is.

‘uh.. that’s ella,’ you nod, not quite meeting his eyes, ‘..my daughter,’ taking the photo from lucas’ hand, the atmosphere had quite suddenly shifted and people begin to scatter, starting their own conversations so they don’t have to bare witness to this one.

‘oh.. oh, right.. well, congratulations then,’ the shadow of a smile on his lips, could he feel how fucking awkward this was?

‘thank you,’ giving him a half nod, startled as steve’s hand brushes the small of your back. he’d seen that you were in conversation and had left dustin to fulfil his security guard promise.

‘it’s nice that you two found each other.. you have a beautiful daughter,’ still not fully committed to smiling but he was getting there.

your face contorts, immediately looking to steve before letting out a god awful cackle, ‘oh no.. she’s not steve’s,’ covering your mouth before another taunting laugh comes out.

steve is trying to stifle his grin but fails, reaching his hand out to shake eddie’s hand, ‘ah man, no ella’s not mine but she is beautiful, isn’t she? how are you?’

you’re eternally grateful that he he’s managed to sway the conversation and you aren’t forced to explain why or how you’d had a child with jason fucking carver. turning back to robin as you hear steve ramble on about work and corroded coffin’s new album, something you had absolutely no care about.

‘shall we get another drink?’ robin asks, eyeing the open bar and your empty glass.

‘please.’

the rest of the night is going.. relatively well. it’s kinda unsettling to watch the younger kids drink legally, getting more boisterous and loud as the night progresses. it’s nice, if not a little sad just thinking about how you weren’t really able to enjoy yourself at their age because you had a newborn.

you must’ve been deep in thought as you don’t even notice eddie creep up to the empty table, standing awkwardly besides your chair, ‘can we talk?’

your eyes shoot up to meet his, baffled by his presence, ‘what could we possibly have to talk about?’

he exhales through his nose, ‘uh.. a lot? we don’t have to do it here.. i have a room upstairs or.. outside?’

‘no,’ gripping onto your glass of wine, desperately trying to grab the attention of someone behind eddie to come and save you, ‘i don’t want to speak to you.’

he’s exasperated, clutching onto his beer with strained white knuckles. how were you ever supposed to move past this when you wouldn’t even give him the opportunity to explain himself. but that was exactly it. you didn’t care about any of the silly excuses you’re sure he’d conjured up, he did what he did and that was that.

‘i’m trying here..’ sounding exasperated, ‘how ‘bout dinner? sometime this week, on me,’ his voice is deeper now, raspier. you figure as a result of constant partying and chain smoking while on tour.

‘i have a child and a job.. i don’t have time for dinner with you on top of that,’ swallowing the rest of the sweet white wine, putting the empty glass back on the table with a forceful slam.

you make brief eye contact with will who was passing behind eddie and decide to take the opportunity to pounce, standing from your chair and rushing over the second he nears your table.

‘will.. hey,’ speeding to catch him up, mouthing a small save me, clinging to his arm as you move away from eddie who was stood deflated at the table.

will thankfully catches your drift, steering you towards the bar, ‘you okay? i was just about to leave..’ placing his empty glass onto the bar with a soft sigh.

‘what? no.. if i can’t go then you’re not allowed either,’ talking sternly to the boy even though he now towered above you and just about everybody else in here.

he screws up his face, looking over to the dance floor, ‘it’s just..’ sighing once again, ‘awful, isn’t it?’ following his gaze to an intoxicated mike performing an elaborate air guitar routine in the middle of the floor.

it wasn’t exactly the same, but you could empathise with the difficult situation and that foul feeling in your stomach that you were sure he could feel too. you could imagine that it wasn’t easy to see the man you’d once, or perhaps still loved after so long. in fact, you didn’t really need to imagine at all.

deciding it was better to change the subject, distract him from the unraveling scene on the dance floor, ‘d’you smoke?’

he looks around quickly, watching out for a listening jonathan, you assume before he nods quickly, ‘but no one can know,’ a hint of a smile creeping onto his face.

you return the devilish grin before hooking your arm in his, pulling him towards the door where you could get the hell away from annoying men and their long black hair.

-

it’s gone three by the time you get back to steve’s, genuinely having to coax him from the party and into the cab you’d shared with a belligerent dustin, making sure he had got home safely.

‘i wasn’t too mean, was i?’ snuggled up in steve’s blankets, facing each other in the low light of his room.

‘nooo, no you were on fire,’ he laughs, he was still tipsy and slightly reeking of booze as he lay next to you.

‘really? you’re sure?’ he was definitely just drunk and blabbing on but you’d take it.

‘yes.. it was perfect,’ he hiccups, interrupting his sentence, ‘buuut.. and i’m not the only one who said this so don’t kill me..’ kissing the back of his teeth, ‘you’re not gonna like what i have to say.’

‘what? what is it?’ prodding his shoulder with a quick jab. knowing eddie, he’d probably gone round the party whispering some bullshit about the two of you.

‘well..’ holding his hands in the air, ‘there’s still chemistry there.. y’know i could see it,’ raising his eyebrows, hands collapsing onto the blanket.

‘right, i’m going to sleep.. you’re drunk and just saying stupid shit now,’ rolling your eyes as you settle into the soft pillow, closing your eyes so you no longer had to entertain his idiotic nonsense.

he chortles, hiccuping mid-laugh which makes a horrid choking noise, ‘i’m not that drunk.. robin said it too,’ the lamp clicks off, darkening the room, ‘and dustin..’

‘go to sleep steve,’ unamused and tired.

‘okay okay.. goodnight,’ he calls, you can hear the smile in his voice as he turns to face the other way, taking that as your opportunity to rest your head on his back, nuzzling into the soft cotton t-shirt.

-

monday is particularly awful and you’re reminded exactly why you don’t drink often. two days on and you’re still exhausted, half-heartedly filling the shelves and just trying to make it to two o’clock.

in your tired state, one of the bottles of shampoo you were putting out, falls out of your hand and rolls off somewhere down the aisle. you sigh, a deep, fed-up, exhaustive sigh and get up to go and fetch it when the bottle appears before your face, a tattooed, ring-filled hand latched onto it.

‘carver? really?’ eddie frowns, watching you from above, eyebrows furrowed together.

you place the bottle onto it’s rightful spot on the shelf and choose to ignore him. if he’d come all the way down here just to piss you off about your poor life choices then he could get fucked.

‘when’d that happen?’

blanking him again as you continue to put stuff onto the shelves. this was the easiest way to guarantee that you weren’t going to get yourself fired for being rude to him.

‘you gonna ignore me? i just wanna know,’ still poking and prodding, he clearly wasn’t very good at picking up on context clues.

nothing.

‘fuck, can you just talk to me for five minutes?’ your silence was driving him crazy, aggravating him to no end.

‘i’m at work, so no,’ hurriedly trying to finish the stock you had so you had an excuse to rush out the back and away from him.

he was fortunate that it was a quiet monday, the store full of mostly older ladies who had no idea who he was. you sorta hoped that he’d get mobbed and would have to hurry off and leave you alone.

‘why jason? out of literally everyone else in this shithole you choose jason?’ screwing his face up in disgust.

you slam the box cutter down with a loud clatter, causing a few turned heads and raised eyebrows. fuck ‘em. if you had done what you’d really wanted to do, you’d be locked up forever.

‘i don’t know if you remember this but my boyfriend of like, two years ran away and never came home so yeah.. that kinda fucked with me a little and lucky for me, jason carver was there and also hated my ex’s guts.. so it was perfect, you know?’ staring flatly at him, you were not dealing with his shit today.

eddie scoffs, ‘so you had a kid with him? and now.. what? you play happy families just to spite me? is that it?’

‘yes eddie, i had a whole child just to piss you off.’

he gawps back at you, clearly also did not possess the ability to sense sarcasm.

‘no,’ scowling at him, ‘it was an accident and now he’s.. i dunno, coaching basketball at some school in ohio or some shit.. why don’t you go and bother him?’

‘so you’re not together?’

you can only roll your eyes in response, in sheer disbelief that he’d made such a fuss because he couldn’t just outright ask if you were single.

un-fucking-believable.

you’ve had just about enough of this conversation, pulling your little trolley back towards the swing doors that lead to the warehouse. at least he wasn’t allowed in there.

‘wait! wait..’ he grabs onto the other side of the trolley, stopping you from walking off, ‘have dinner with me tonight or.. tomorrow?’ eyes big and pleading.

‘now why would i do that?’

‘because i want to explain myself.. i need to.’

one of the younger shoppers notices who he is and begins trying to talk to him, coming over to where you two stood rather excitedly. eddie is kind enough to smile and give her a few polite words, eyes still latched onto yours despite the ecstatic woman beside him.

‘okay,’ honestly just wanting to get away from all this commotion, ‘tomorrow.’

his scowl subsides, replaced by a gleaming grin, ‘six o’clock.. pino’s, i’ll sort it, okay?’ already starting to walk away from the crazy woman.

‘right,’ you nod, pulling your trolley away and into the back warehouse, leaning against the concrete wall. the whole exchange was tiring, knocking whatever tiny bit of energy out of you.

were you actually gonna go?

absolutely fucking not.

-

by the time six rolls around the next night, you really had forgotten all about it. rushing to get ella her dinner after swimming lessons, already worrying about paying for yet another field trip she’d sprung on you earlier. you’d begun to wonder if they even taught in the classrooms anymore with the amount of permission slips she brought home.

she’s finally settled into bed, after much protesting and a lot of coaxing. you’re just about to finally relax on the couch when someone hammers on your front door. and if you weren’t already pissed off with ella’s whining, you were most definitely about to be with whichever mindless prick was banging on your door.

‘what do you want?’ you hiss, jerking the door open to reveal a pathetic looking eddie on the other side, face forlorn and dejected.

he’s in that white shirt again. it makes you sick to your stomach to admit that it really does look good on him. his arms now more defined, the cotton sticking to his muscles, briefly showcasing the new tattoos underneath. maybe he’d actually got off of his ass and did something other than smoke weed all day.

‘oh so you are alive, d’you forget about something?’ he’s snarling now, having conjured up some elaborate excuse in his head as to why you hadn’t showed, only to find you at home, seemingly with no care in the world.

‘oops,’ the corners of your mouth twitching into a smile, you hadn’t even actually meant to stand him up, you were just gonna call his hotel and cancel but the thought had just completely slipped your mind.

and even if it shouldn’t, it really did feel good. knowing he was the one sat waiting for you for once.

‘oops? i sat there for an hour waiting for you and then spent the last hour trying to convince dustin to give me your fucking address.. and all you can say is oops?’

you shrug, ‘feels pretty shitty to be forgotten about, doesn’t it?’ tilting your head, watching as his face falls. he’d been got.

‘okay.. okay, i get it, and i’m sorry.. there’s not a day that goes by that i don’t feel like shit for how i treated you,’ his head dips low, looking particularly sorry for himself.

and for a second you do too. not that he deserved it. quickly having to remind yourself exactly what he had done to you, which was not at all helped by the fact that he now had everything he’d ever wanted in life.

and you couldn’t fault your life. truly. but fuck did it sting sometimes, to know that your life had stagnated, stuck in the same shitty town you’d grown up in while he was on the other side of the country, more money than sense and a hoard of doting fans that would do absolutely anything he’d ask of them.

‘good,’ you bark, going to slam the door shut only for it to bang against his black boot wedged in the door, ‘if you don’t move your foot i’ll- i’ll call the police.’

‘no you won’t,’ his hand reaches out to grab onto the other side of the handle, he could’ve easily pushed his way in if he’d really wanted, ‘let’s talk.. like adults,’ begging you now, ‘please.’

you huff, this would end with you either letting him in or being forced to wake ella after you bashed his head into the doorframe. it was easier to just accept the first option and you’d find some bullshit to get him to leave later on.

opening the door wider to let him in, keeping your eyes square on the ground as he walks through, peering around at your home. probably comparing it to his mansion in the hollywood hills the pretentious fuck.

‘nice..’ he nods, leaning in to look at the photo of you and ella a few christmas’ ago, she was tiny then, sporting a miniature santa hat.

‘yeah well, she’s asleep upstairs so.. make it quick,’ you frown, closing the door behind him, watching as his eyes take in the cluttered room, smile fading when he catches sight of the singular picture you have up of jason and ella.

‘i can’t believe you chose to fuck jason of all people.. i mean, i’ve made some shitty decisions in my life but..’ he stops himself from going any further when he sees your face, if looks could kill, he’d be long gone by now.

‘did you come here for a reason? or are you here to talk about my life decisions.. because i really don’t want to hear it from you,’ crossing your arms over your chest, wanting him out of your house.

‘no.. no, shit- i’m sorry,’ he shuffles on his feet, banging his head, ‘i wanna talk.. properly.’

you roll your hand to motion for him to continue, ‘go on..’

he inhales, chewing on the inside of his cheek, trying to psyche himself up to actually say what he wanted to say. it wasn’t that he didn’t know what to say, he just couldn’t string it together to make sense.

‘i’m sorry for the way i treated you.. it wasn’t right and i know that now,’ his hand coming to rub the back of his clammy next, why was your house so fucking hot?

‘okay.. apology accepted, was that everything?’ you say flatly, glancing up the stairs to make sure ella wasn’t awake and out of her room.

his face falls, ‘can you just.. just let me explain,’ his adam apple bobbing as he swallows, ‘why don’t you sit down..’ motioning towards your ratty couch.

you relent your stern stature, hesitantly going to sit on the couch, trying to ensure that he couldn’t possibly sit next to you by sprawling your legs out onto the empty cushion. so he takes the seat furthest away, running his hands down his tight jeans. designer, no less.. the only person you knew stupid enough to spend thousands on designer jeans just to tear holes in them.

‘when i ended things with you, i wasn’t.. well, it was me, but i had my manager screaming in my ear that it’d never work and he could hook me up with some fuckin’ model.. it’d help the band.. so that’s what i did,’ and for once, he looked genuinely remorseful, fiddling with the loose threads on his expensive jeans.

‘so you sold out? that’s your excuse?’

his head shoots up, mouth hung open with absolute disgust all over his face, ‘i am not a sell out.’

which is incredibly refutable, you’d heard a snippet of one of their recent songs on the radio at work and it had sounded exactly like the commercial shit he used to rag on when you were together. not a touch on the corroded coffin you sat and watched practice for hours on end.

‘oh? so you didn’t break up with me to further your career? you just wanted to fuck hot models? which one is it ‘cause i’m a little confused here,’ completely losing it, springing up from your slouched position.

‘okay, yeah.. yeah i did, i broke up with you because i wanted to fuckin’ make something of my life.. and look at where i am and look at-,’

‘-don’t you dare finish that sentence,’ you snap, gritting your teeth together as you near his face, positively shaking with rage.

‘what’re you gonna do? you gonna hit me? do it,’ his chin tilted to match your elevated position, eyes glued to yours.

‘i should.’

his lips twitch into a smirk, ‘you won’t.’

and before your brain has the time to really process your next movements, he balls his fist into your t-shirt, causing your chest to collide into his as his lips smash into yours, knocking the air out of your lungs.

scrambling to find his shoulders for balance, sliding one hand onto his stubbly cheek. it’s all teeth and tongues, he’s ravenous and unrelenting, letting go of his grip on your shirt to place his hands on your hips, ‘move,’ mumbling against your lips as he attempts to manoeuvre you onto his lap while twisting around.

he slides down the couch, keeping a solid hold of your body as you find the right position. your legs are either side of his waist, sliding into the gap between his body and the couch sitting right on his crotch. wasting absolutely zero time in connecting your lips against, honestly not wanting to run the risk of him opening his mouth and ruining this.

his large hands find solace on your ass, creeping up to remove the oversized shirt you’d thrown on. you place your hand above his, restricting him from moving any further. it’s not that you were embarrassed- okay, maybe you were a little. but your body had changed since becoming a mom and eddie had become accustomed to gorgeous models and perfect women that he’d certainly not want to see your boring, frumpy mom body.

he groans in protest, trying again to lift the shirt further only for your fingernails to dig into his hand, ‘no,’ speaking into the filthy kiss.

eddie pulls away from the kiss, fingers coming to gently brush the hair from your face, ‘you can’t be serious? i’ve seen it all before,’ he grumbles, fingers itching to try lift it again.

‘not like this you haven’t.. i just.. want it on, okay?’

‘no- why won’t you let me take this off?’ fingers curling around the hem, already trying his luck with getting it up again.

you sigh, meeting his blown out eyes with your glossy ones, ‘i don’t even know what i’m doing.. fuck,’ attempting to climb off of his lap while the spare hand he has on your ass clamps you down, keeping you pressed to him.

‘hey.. hey, keep it on.. i don’t care,’ already trying to chase your lips, ‘i’m just saying, you don’t need to,’ the denim covering his growing erection starting to rub against your throbbing clit, the sparse material of your pajama shorts were not leaving much to the imagination.

‘jesus christ, just take it off,’ giving up in your protest, it was useless against eddie’s persistence.

you press your lips to his the second your shirt is off, there was no time to judge your body if he couldn’t see it. pulling at his jacket to get it off, the metal buttons digging into your now bare skin.

‘i didn’t.. i didn’t mean.. what i said..’ babbling through the kiss as he shimmies out of the jacket, landing on the floor with a soft thud.

‘shut up,’ you whine, running your hand along the length of his chest until you reach the hem of his black shirt, gripping your fingers around the fabric and lifting it slightly, exposing his midriff, the soft trail of hair ascending the skin.

his head jerks backwards, allowing you to tug the shirt off, finally allowing his eyes to wander to your chest. ‘holy shit,’ he remarks like he’d never seen a pair of tits before. it’s futile for him to pretend that he hadn’t seen some amazing boobs in his time so you scoff, rolling your eyes.

working your hand at his belt buckle, fiddling with the metal until it pops undone. he’s hard already and it makes you groan, brushing your hand over the raised denim. this week seriously must’ve been difficult if he was getting hard so easily over you.

it doesn’t ever occur to you how much of a mistake this was. and even if it did, you didn’t have much time to ponder on it as his hands are grabbing at your breasts, palming them as his lips suck at your jaw and down onto your neck softly. guaranteed to leave a lovely violet mark that the old ladies at work would certainly gasp at.

he’s helping you with his jeans, one hand gripping onto your waist to keep you steady as he lifts his hips from the couch and the other hurriedly yanking them down just enough to reveal his boxers. that’s the next port of call, fingers grabbing at the thin black cotton, pulling them down his thighs as his cock springs into action.

eddie’s lips are still on your neck while you mindlessly wrap your hand around his cock, pumping your fist as you shuffle upwards. his breath hitches in his throat, still peppering sloppy kisses to the sensitive skin.

‘oh god,’ he whines into your collarbone, feeling his eyelashes flutter against your jaw. for a man who had been painted as womaniser in the media, he sure was still just as pathetic as he used to be underneath you.

you’re a little annoyed that it’s you who’s taking control right now. after so many years of disrespect from his end, you think he at least owed it to you to take charge.

your hand grabs onto his shoulder, pulling his face from your neck, ‘be quiet, okay?’ sitting taller to position yourself comfortably, the harsh fabric of the couch grazing your knees.

he nods, sliding his hand up your waist and back to your hip, taking in the sight of you. you wouldn’t ever admit it aloud, but truthfully, you really did miss him sometimes. missed the way his pretty pink lips looked after being glued to yours or the way he gazed at you doing the most mundane tasks.

you cant your hips, sinking down onto his length slowly, biting down onto your bottom lip as his cock fills you to the hilt. his eyelids flicker, fingernails digging into your doughy hips. it’s been a little while since you’d done this so you have to take a second to become accustomed to the slight stretch. it’s good, in the most masochistic way.

your hands cling onto his shoulders, watching his slack jaw, tiny breaths escaping from his mouth as you attempt to move. painstakingly slow at first, knees beginning to shake as you try to remember what you should even be doing. your cheeks flushing, feeling so incredibly embarrassed. the man was fucking models and then you’re here, pitifully trying to ride him. it’s awful, you know it’s awful.

his arm comes to snake around your waist, taking matters into his own hands and flipping the two of you around, your back suddenly pressed into the couch. holy shit. you appreciate the initiative, wrapping your legs around his waist, readjusting your grip on his shoulders.

‘need you a little faster than that darling,’ large hands digging into the couch either side of your head. you’d feel utterly mortified if you weren’t thoroughly enjoying the sight of him looming over you, his hair falling beautifully into your face.

eddie starts slow at first, moving his hips slowly, obviously well versed. your mouth opens but no noise escapes, well aware that you weren’t the only ones in your house. instead you pant softly, desperate for his lips to grace yours again.

it’s not long before he’s quickening his pace, unable to contain himself when you feel so perfect around him. ‘i missed you- fuck, i’ve missed you so much,’ he groans, keeping his voice low despite wanting to start screaming.

you don’t reply, too fucked-out to even think about words. eyes drooping as his cock nudges against the soft spongy spot no one other than him had been able to reach.

the couch creaks beneath you, the old thing unable to keep up with his rutting hips, the top of your head knocking into the arm rest every time his hips collided with yours. your living room had never bore witness to such filth and as quiet as you were trying to be, the sounds are indistinguishable.

having to bite down onto your lip when his thumb meets your clit, legs tightening around his waist with every soft circle he draws around the sensitive bud. eddie was never bad in bed but holy shit, maybe money had done something right for him.

he sits up, soft sighs falling out of his lips as his hand disconnects from your clit, sliding toward your knee and positioning your leg onto his shoulder. your nails press into his forearm, willing yourself to stay quiet even now he’s seemingly trying to kill you.

and through it all, he’s smirking. relishing the way you’re writhing around, trying not to cum when he nudges against that sweet, spongy spot this position allowed.

his thumb finds your clit again, ‘holy shit sweetheart.. you gonna cum?’ grunting softly with every thrust.

you’re positively wrecked beneath him, face pressed into the couch cushion as your stomach flips. panting into the fabric, incoherent ramblings of eddie’s name and a bunch of curse words fill the room.

‘cum for me baby.. shit,’ struggling to keep his own pace as you tighten around him, leg trembling around his neck as your orgasm takes over. pleasure overtaking your limbs as your hips buck instinctively, thankfully muffled by the couch.

‘oh my god,’ you breathe, struggling to see straight when your eyes eventually reopen, gazing up at eddie above, certain he’s about to draw blood from his teeth digging in to his lip.

‘where.. where shall i- shit,’ he squeezes out, feeling his hips begin to stutter, eyes rolling to the back of his head. he’s just about quick enough to pull out, thick ropes of cum paint your thighs. narrowly avoiding the couch.

if you had the energy to get annoyed, you would’ve snapped, but in all honesty, your brain was still reeling and anger was the last thing you felt.

eddie reaches over, ever the gentleman and grabs his shirt to clean his mess. didn’t matter to him obviously, he had more than enough money to buy another.

and there it is. the bitterness filling your body again the second he’s no longer on top of you, or inside of you rather. you attempt to bite it down.

‘you wanna talk now?’ he asks, pulling his boxers back up to a more respectable position.

‘i’m tired eddie,’ and you are, on a school night like tonight you’d have been fast asleep by now.

he sighs, shoulders slumping over. even after you’d just had the most mind-altering sex, you couldn’t speak to him. ‘please,’ pleading with you almost, desperate for one more chance.

maybe it’s the exhaustion or maybe the dopamine still pumping through your brain but you concede, pulling your shirt back over your head before motioning for him to speak.

‘i don’t have any excuses, i’m just-,’ he sighs, turning on the couch to face you fully, ‘i’m sorry for hurting you, i was wrong and i know that,’ his eyes are dipped, peering at you from underneath his spindly lashes, ‘why d’you think i’ve avoided this place for so long?’

‘i don’t know? because you’re a pussy? because you’re too scared to face me?’ letting the words rattle off your tongue without much thought.

‘because i’m embarrassed,’ he corrects, without much offence, ‘because i’m ashamed and feel like i owe you more than some dick and a shitty apology.. i just didn’t know how i could ever make it up to you,’ half-moon eyes glossy in the low light.

your heart thumps in your chest, blood echoing through your ears. eddie munson, world renowned rockstar was sat on your couch, apologising for something you should’ve forgotten about a long time ago.

the years of hatred and avoidance come tumbling down in a millisecond. all you’d ever wanted was to hear him say sorry. to admit that he’d fucked you over for a life of fame and now you had it, you weren’t exactly sure what to even do with it.

‘okay.. now what? are you gonna make it up to me? because i want to believe you eddie, i do.. but you can’t just traipse in here and expect me to forgive you like that,’ the tears roll over, sliding down your warm cheeks.

he nods, grabbing onto your hands in a last ditch gesture to show his sincerity, ‘i’m going to.. i-i want to,’ he’s still nodding, bringing his face closer to yours, ‘tell me how, i’ll do anything,’ adam’s apple bobbing with every word.

‘stay here,’ your eyes are trained on him, ignoring the blurred vision, ‘not forever, just for now,’ lips pursed, ready to be broken once more.

you half-expect him to come out with some sorry excuse, tell you he had to get back to his hotel so he couldn’t possible stay here.

but he doesn’t.

eddie takes your hand, tugging it gently and with words you don’t register, babbles something about bed. so you follow him, allowing him to guide you to your room and slide in between the sheets next to you.

everything is so gentle, soft and pure. something you hadn’t felt in a long time.

-

‘hey.. sweetheart,’ eddie’s hand gently shakes your arm, whispering into your ear, ‘you awake?’

you squint in the dim light, feeling his hand descend onto your waist, chest pressed against your back, ‘i am now,’ you grumble, it was early.. early even by ella’s standards.

‘i gotta go.. you got work today?’ he asks, making no effort to actually get up and leave your bed though.

you nod into the pillow, rubbing your sleep heavy eyes. in your sleep hazed state, you shuffle, moving backwards against him.

‘okay.. shit- don’t do that,’ strained as you shift against him, unknowingly brushing against his cock, ‘i’ll be back.. after you..’ he’s losing it a little now, ‘after you finish..’ lips pressed to your ear.

you were moving deliberately now, just ever-so-slightly rocking your hips back and forth, you could feel him growing against your ass.

‘i can’t..’ he groans, grip tightening on your hip,

‘please,’ you breathe, reaching backwards to find his mop of curls, taking a fistful for leverage as his own hip’s thrust into your backside, his low growls only spurring you on.

you had been on your own for so long now, could he really blame you?

eddie doesn’t leave for another hour, creeping out of your house with his head low and a shit eating grin plastered on his face.

-

the key turns in your door as you’re loading the dishwasher. you’d given steve a spare for emergencies but it seemed to get used for anything but.

he slinks into the kitchen where you stand with your back to him, ‘hey,’ already knowing who it was.

‘well hello,’ announcing his presence, something about his tone of voice already seemed off, he sounded short, annoyed almost, ‘how have you been?’

‘i’m good..’ you spin to face him, puzzled by his strange demeanour, ‘how are you?’

he’s holding onto something behind his back but you can’t quite catch a glimpse, ‘actually.. i’m a little pissed off,’ you can tell he’s not completely serious by the hint of a smile on his face.

‘hmm? why’s that?’

he looks around the room expectedly, ‘oh i don’t know.. you don’t have anything to tell me, do you?’ shaking his head, still gripping onto this mystery object.

‘no..’ narrowing your eyes, determining whether he knew what you thought he knew.

he did, he one hundred percent did. holy fuck. he’d figured you out already. eddie had opened his big, stupid mouth and told dustin, who would’ve told steve and god knows who else. fucking moron.

‘no? soo..’ his pulls the magazine from behind his back, flipping it to the page he’d already saved, ‘this isn’t real then?’ shoving the glossy pages into your face, ‘because to me.. this looks an awful lot like eddie.. at this very house,’ he jabs his finger at the pixelated image, ‘and this little blob here.. that’s you, no?’

you’re utterly gobsmacked. mouth hung open in pure shock. because that most definitely was eddie.. and your house.. and you. you hadn’t seen anyone with a camera, hell, you hadn’t seen anyone on the street at all.

‘and correct me if i’m wrong, but is this not our friend eddie leaving your house the next morning?’ showing the next image of him leaving your house the day after, hair unruly and messed up, holding his denim jacket in his arms as he climbs into his car.

your mouth moves but no words come out, croaking as you struggle to meet steve’s eyes. completely speechless, there was no feasible excuse. you had been caught with your pants down. literally.

‘i can explain,’ waving your hands around while steve stands smug against the kitchen counter. ‘..no i can’t,’ shoulders slumped as you blink at your best friend, no you really couldn’t. suppose you could’ve come up with some lie about a look-a-like you’d been seeing but that would’ve made you look particularly strange.

‘were you ever gonna tell me?’ he’s almost hurt that you hadn’t ran to him to tell him immediately. this was true best friend gossip and you’d kept him from it.

‘i was! steve.. i don’t even know what happened- he came over to apologise and then we were arguing and then.. then we had sex and it’s not my fault..’ you’re trying, and failing, to contain your smile, flashing your cheeky grin to your best friend in the hopes he would let this slide.

‘i can’t believe you didn’t tell me!’ jutting his bottom lip out, ‘so, you’re getting back together?’ his eyes sceptical yet sparkling with a sense of hope. you’re grateful that all he seems to care about is the fact you lied. or actually, withheld the truth as you preferred it.

‘no.. well.. no, we had dinner together yesterday and he might’ve stayed over but no..’ shaking your head, ‘he’s leaving again soon and we both know what happened last time..’ you shrug, leaning back against the counter, ‘i guess i don’t hate him now, that’s good isn’t it?’

steve looks perplexed, ‘wait wait wait.. so you’re just.. screwing around? and then he leaves again, that’s it? what’s the point?’ taking a seat at the small kitchen table, fully engrossed in the conversation.

‘i dunno.. i guess that’s it?’ you hadn’t really thought about the fact that he’d be leaving again, in fact, you hadn’t really had time to think much at all about what was happening.

you’d just sort of acknowledged that at some point he’d go back to california and you’d stay here and whatever was happening would.. end? it wasn’t as if you were going to be super upset about it like you once were. lots of people fuck their ex’s.. this was fine.

because that’s what this is, right?

just sex with an ex?

‘that’s it?’ steve reiterates, looking completely flabbergasted that the woman who once left the room whenever eddie munson’s name was mentioned was now being so casual about this.

‘yeah,’ you shrug, not wanting to make a massive deal out of it though you could always rely on steve to be over dramatic on your behalf.

‘no,’ he straightens up in the chair, ‘all of this can’t be for nothing,’ sounding utterly exasperated, ‘you two obviously belong together so why don’t you go for it? i could see you living it up out in la.. big house, big car-,’

you cut him off before he can divulge into his delusions any further, ‘i think you’re getting ahead of yourself steve,’ shaking your head at his ludicrous attitude.

you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about it once or twice but it seemed silly to start imagining this crazy life together after all these years. he’d barely just made it into your good graces again, you were hardly going to run off to california with him. it was utter delusion.

‘okay okay..’ he scoffs, ‘but i still think you need to talk to him. i don’t want you getting hurt again, okay? just make sure that you’re both on the same page,’ nodding as he stands from his seat and begins to rummage through your cupboards for something to eat.

he was probably right and you knew it deep down. you weren’t keen on being the one to bring the conversation up, not after that first night. after you had sobbed in his arms in bed, letting him soothe you to sleep with a bunch of probable empty promises.

-

when eddie lets himself into your house a few hours later, steve’s eyebrows fly up his forehead but he doesn’t say a word. instead, he nods at the man, keeping his opinions to himself.

the pair of you resemble an old married couple, except you’re the grumpy old man with your wife cuddled into your side. your wife being steve that is.

‘oh.. is this uh, something that happens often?’ eddie asks, settling into the empty chair across from you. slightly miffed that steve was nestled into your side.

‘yup,’ you nod, smiling at him your chin resting on steve’s head. he hadn’t a reason to be jealous, you’d really rather poke your eyeballs out with a fork than do anything remotely sexual with steve.

‘right.. yeah okay,’ eddie says, looking perplexed but sitting back in the chair. if he was going to stick around then this would have to be something that he got used to. because you sure as hell weren’t going to stop being so close with steve for the guy that broke your heart at eighteen.

‘you want a drink?’ you ask, realising that you should probably be a good host even if it was only eddie.

‘yeah sure.’

you untangle yourself from steve and trundle off into the kitchen. steve takes this as the perfect opportunity to grill eddie on his intentions, sitting up straight and making sure that you were really gone before beginning his interrogation.

‘so.. you two?’

eddie shrugs, not wanting to get into it with steve after such a long day.

steve sighs, leaning toward eddie, ‘i’m gonna say this once.. but if you hurt her again, i will kill you,’ staring the other man down. contempt in his eyes. he was dead serious too.

‘i’m not- i’m not gonna hurt her,’ eddie sits up, praying that you’d hurry back with this damn drink.

‘i mean it eddie,’ raising his eyebrows, ‘you didn’t see how she was after you left.. i’m not going through that again, i’m not letting her go through that again.’

‘steve-,’ eddie blinks, stopping himself as you re-enter the room. hoping that you hadn’t heard their conversation, he’d only just got you to stop hating him. he wasn’t prepared to go back to that like, ever.

‘what’re you talking about?’ placing the bottle of beer in front of eddie and collapsing back into your spot on the couch.

‘football,’ steve answers quickly, groaning as he pushes himself off of the sofa, ‘i’m gonna head home, got work in the morning but i’ll see you tomorrow,’ he smiles, winking at you from above.

‘okay,’ you utter, sounding more like a question than a statement, watching carefully as he gathers his things without so much as a glance at eddie. you can only imagine what was actually said but that was truly none of your business.

you’d just grill eddie later to make sure steve hasn’t been too much of an asshole.

‘byee,’ you call out behind him, already eyeing a sheepish eddie. this’d probably be it. you’d known it was coming at some point, you just weren’t sure of when.

if steve’s sudden departure was anything to go off, you were probably right.

the door clicks shut and you turn your attention to eddie who was still sat on the solemn chair. oh god. maybe you had got a little used to having him around again and now to know that it’d all be coming to an abrupt end once again.. yeah you felt a tad shit.

‘what’d you say?’ you ask outright, it made zero sense to beat around the bush.

‘me?’ he looks almost offended, ‘i didn’t say shit.. didn’t get the chance to,’ but he’s smiling ever so slightly and your heart relaxes.

christ you were so stupid. letting him back into your life just to let him walk away a second time. perhaps you’d done something horrific in a past life to deserve this same fate twice.

‘so what did he say?’ you press, unsure of if your even wanted the answer.

eddie sighs before coming to collapse on the couch next to you, ‘it wasn’t important.. look, i wanna be honest with you,’ his hand comes to grab yours and you freeze, bracing yourself for what was inevitably going to come next. ‘you mean a lot to me and.. and i don’t want you to think that i don’t care or that i’m just leaving you again,’ his eyes are focussed on yours, full of what you hope is sincerity.

you don’t reply, instead you nod slightly and urge him to continue. this was it. the kicker. 

‘i’ve gotta go back to la next week,’ his grip tightens around your hand, ‘but i’m coming back as soon as i can, okay?’ he’s serious too and you’d like to believe him but if the past was anything to go by, you weren’t eager.

you nod silently. fuck this. once again, you were sat before eddie munson, listening to his plans to jet off to la. it felt like the cruelest case of deja-vu. if anything, you want to kick yourself for even allowing him to wiggle his way back into your heart. most people know better after the first time.

‘it’s three weeks.. maybe a month, but i’m coming back, i promise,’ he pleads, hanging his head low. he knows there’s absolutely nothing he could say to you that would make you believe him but he had to try.

you hum, frowning just a little before finally replying, ‘i’ve heard that before,’ not meaning to sound as snarky as you did, but it was true.

‘i’m serious, i’m not.. not gonna lose you again, i’ve learnt my lesson,’ his eyes are big and pleading and you’re thrown right back to being eighteen, listening to him convince you how going to la would be the best decision.

‘so.. what? you’re gonna come back to hawkins just to see me? i don’t-,’ you sigh, as much as you wanted to believe him, it just wasn’t plausible in your mind, ‘i just don’t understand, are we together or are you just coming back to fuck? you don’t have to, you know? i’ve made peace with it all and i’m fine.. you don’t have to lie to me anymore.’

if anyone was going to fuck this up, it would be you. that’s for certain.

‘what the fuck?’ he exclaims, genuinely flabbergasted, ‘this is me telling you that i’m serious about this.. about you,’ he takes your hand into his properly, scooting around to face you fully, ‘i love being here with you, and ella and there is nothing out in la worth more than this,’ you think he might just start crying, or you might. or perhaps both of you.

you sniff, not wanting to speak in fear of bursting into hysterics. it was all just so confusing and weird. you’d grown accustomed to eddie being on the other side of the country and now suddenly he was back in your life with what seemed like a a declaration of love. it was just too much to handle. and maybe you blame yourself a little, for not truly thinking about the implications of fucking your ex that had abandoned you years prior. but now it all just seemed to be hurtling in the most intense direction.

you were the one that had told him to stay after all. because really, you could’ve kicked him out, refused to ever even acknowledge him again. but you hadn’t.

‘are you telling me the truth?’ is all that you manage to squeak out. baring resemblance to a small child.

you really must’ve looked pathetic, eyes brimming with tears, bottom lip quivering as you hold in the implosion of emotions. it’s always scary being vulnerable with someone, let alone someone that once meant so much to you.

he still did. as much as you’re absolutely petrified to admit it, he’d weaselled his way back into your heart and now here you are, a mess of emotions and perplexing feelings that are too complicated to handle.

‘i promise you,’ he sighs, clearly fed up of your whining, ‘i’m coming back this time.’

and maybe you’re stupid. maybe you’re still hung up on some high school relationship that ended long ago but you can’t help it, you nod.

idiotically believing him because what else can you do after letting him into your home and your heart again.

[aww-canon-no]

Steddie (Deaf Steve) Pt 2

You asked, so I’m here to give you more.  This time from Eddie’s POV.

First kiss, sequel to Shoot Your Shot.

*** 

Soon Enough

Rated: T

Steve/Eddie

Modern AU, first kisses, Deaf Steve, ASL

(Content warnings: mentions of childhood neglect/abuse)

Eddie has never, ever once believed in conformity.  And he’s not about to start now.

(Eddie’s ASL fuck-up is translated in notes at bottom of this fic)

*** 

Eddie Munson’s life has always been…difficult, to say the least.  Born under a bad sign, Wayne liked to call it, but in a kind of affectionate way.  The way where he’s holding small Eddie who can’t stop crying and wondering why all the other kids in his class have really nice parents who buy them things and, you know, feed them.

Wayne stepped in when he could.  He never failed to show up with food and threats against his brother when he heard Eddie’s tiny, broken voice on the other end of the phone because his dad was too drunk or too high to feed him.  Eventually they struck a deal.  Eddie’s parents disappeared after signing some scary looking paperwork, and Eddie got to pack all his things and move to Wayne’s trailer which was small compared to where his classmates all lived, but nice.

So nice.

Like washing machine and running water nice.

He won’t have to be the smelly kid in class anymore.

He just didn’t realize how reputations clung in small towns.

So suffice it to say that Eddie abhors difficult things—including difficult people.  It’s why, when his little lambs started going on and on and fucking ON about their cool, badass older friend Steve who used to date Nancy, Eddie was determined to never meet him.

It wasn’t just the jealousy.

It was that Steve communicated on a whole other level.  Literally.  He was Deaf.  He went to the Deaf school that wasn’t anywhere near Hawkins and he knew no one, but somehow Steve and his perfect fucking hair was still popular amongst people who weren’t freaked out by the whole, he can’t hear shit, thing.

Yeah, it definitely wasn’t jealousy.

It was the fact that Steve was complicated and he used a whole separate language and Eddie just…had no plans to involve himself in that.

Never mind the kids were over the goddamn moon about being able to know ASL.  They communicated with it during campaigns whenever they didn’t want Eddie to know their plans, and—although Eddie actually did look up stuff online about Deaf people (all that stuff about capital D and lowercase d and the community and culture was all very overwhelming) he was pretty sure his little lambs were technically not allowed to make up sign names for all the creatures in their guides.

But they did it anyway and who was Eddie to stop them.

He ended up picking up a few things by osmosis, whether he liked it or not.

But he was determined, damn it.  He existed over here, Steve existed over there, and they all lived happily ever after.

Until the afternoon he walked into Scoops Ahoy.

***

Eddie had actually gone in to bother Robin.  They were sort of outcast friends.  Two freaky little gays at Hawkins High, though she was younger than him and had absolutely no interest in DnD, but they had a shared trauma bond of bullies and bullshit.

He came to a stop when he saw the absurdly good looking guy at the counter who was staring at him in ways no one had ever stared at Eddie.  The way that said he had no idea who Eddie was and it was always great to have a fresh start like that.

Then Eddie fucked up by not reading his badge and realizing exactly who was there.

And like Dustin had once predicted, the second he met Steve’s eyes, he was a gonner.  There was no resisting him.

He was smitten and the hole was too deep for him to claw his way out of.

He went home and looked up a bunch of videos that seemed suspect as fuck, so in the end he called Dustin who showed up at Eddie’s trailer with an arsenal of websites.

“Can’t you just get me, like, a book or something?”  Eddie had asked, feeling intimated and overwhelmed and already kind of tired.

Dustin had given him the bitchiest bitch face that ever bitched.  “You can’t learn ASL from a book, numbnuts.”  Then his hands twisted into the complicated shapes—all fast the way Dustin kept bragging about—and Eddie assumed he was repeating most of what he’d just said.

Eddie damn-well knew that if he actually wanted Steve to say yes to him, he was absolutely going to have to learn because while the kids said Steve could speak, he hated doing it.  And Eddie was the kind of guy who had been rebelling against forced conformity his entire life.

So yeah, he’d rather die than put that choice to Steve.

He learned enough to feel confident going back to the mall.  And Robin was once again playing the long game with Vickie who would literally drag Robin into the cleaning closet and rock her world if Robin only asked—but he knew she wouldn’t.  But it left the perfect opening for Eddie who walked up to the counter, panicked, and immediately forgot everything he’d learned about ASL in the time he’d been away from Steve’s ice cream counter.

In the end, he remembered a little, then tried to backtrack and tell Steve he’d ask him out when he was a little more fluent.

Which made Steve laugh, and Eddie wouldn’t find out until much later that it took at least seven years of immersion to become fluent so…

Yeah it was kind of hilarious.

For Steve.

Mortifying for Eddie.

The blow was softened when Steve touched him—like actually touched him without reservation or hesitation.  And then he told Eddie he didn’t want him to wait.  Eddie was fine as he was—that patience with his language could be a thing and Jesus H Christ Eddie was pretty sure he could die right then.

Except if he died he wouldn’t get the chance to touch Steve back, and kiss him, and make him laugh, and make him make other noises and Jesus H Christ he wanted that so bad he could taste it.  Because he’d been avoiding Steve for what felt like half his new adult life but he was head over heels smitten in two visits to the ice cream shop.

And he didn’t even like ice cream.

He was lactose intolerant for fuck’s sake.

Anyway, he got Steve’s number and he didn’t wait to text.

But the date did.

They planned for the movies and then…

Wayne got hurt at the plant.  He ended up being fine, but it scared the absolute fuck out of Eddie who staying at the hospital until his back hurt from the small chair, and his phone was dead, and he felt like passing out.

The nurses had to kick him out, and Eddie walked out of the room in a fog, and stumbled into the downstairs lobby where he came to an abrupt halt at the sight of a familiar, gorgeous head of hair.  Steve was facing away from him with big headphones on, bobbing his head to…music?

Eddie totally didn’t get it, but he couldn’t help himself from walking over and laying a hand on Steve’s shoulder.  He felt like shit when Steve jumped half a foot off the chair, but then his face broke out into a soft, sympathetic smile.

‘Hi.’  It was a simple enough sign that Eddie didn’t have to try for that one.  ‘You OK?’  He signed slow, mouthing the words.

Eddie swallowed heavily, then shrugged.  His fingers felt a little stiff and he wasn’t sure he had the emotional capacity to take embarrassing himself by getting signs wrong no matter how frantically he’d been practicing since the day at the mall.

Steve’s face fell a little more, and Eddie was pretty sure he’d never seen anyone look so…so soft at him before.  He walked around the benches toward Eddie, then yanked him into a hug.  It was so unexpected that Eddie just…melted.  His head pressed against Steve’s headphones which were blaring with music, and Eddie had about a thousand questions but instead he just lost himself in the way that Steve hugged.

It was…a lot.  

Of course, it was mostly that Eddie just never, ever got hugged and all the touching he did was imitated by himself and almost never returned, but that was a different trauma for a different day.

For now he just let himself have this.  Have Steve.  Have the body pressed to his and voiceless permission to kind of shake apart after holding it together for hours, and hours, and hours.

When he pulled back, Steve gave him a cautious smile and Eddie reached up, tapping Steve’s headphones.

‘Hurt?’ Eddie asked. ‘Loud?’

Steve frowned, then rolled his eyes and pulled out his phone, turning off his music before pulling them back and draping them around his neck.  He shook his head and shrugged.  ‘Can’t…hear?’  Eddie was pretty sure that was the sign for hear.  Not hearing, which was a little finger twirl under the bottom lip.  ‘Not hurt  Feel it.’

Eddie nodded and shoved his hands into his pockets before remembering—oh shit, I need those to like, talk to Steve, and pulled them out again.

Steve laughed—but he was maybe one of the only people in the world who didn’t seem like he was laughing at Eddie, and wow what a goddamn novelty that was.

Steve tapped his arm and Eddie looked up at him as Steve curled his hand into a C-shape and dragged it down his throat.  ‘Hungry-you?’

He was starved.  He mimicked the sign and remembered the lesson he learned online where he had to exaggerate the sign if he wanted to emphasize what he was saying.  So he ran his C-hand over his throat a few times, then added, ‘Eat, before, work.’  He met his left wrist with his right wrist once with heavy force. He knew that wasn’t right but maybe it was close enough?

Except Steve was suddenly all red in the face and making a choking sound.  Eddie took a step back, but Steve reached out and snagged his arm before he could get too far, shaking his head.

Eddie was pretty sure he was supposed to be mortified but right then he was mostly curious and uh…yeah.  Steve was touching him again so that was good.

Steve touched the underside of Eddie’s chin and he made an embarrassing noise which Steve must have felt because his grin twitched a little wider.  Then he shook his head.

‘H U N G R Y,’ he spelled very slowly.  He repeated his sign, then added, ‘S T A R V I N G?’  He made a little question mark motion with his finger.  It was weirdly cute, and Eddie didn’t describe things as cute very often.

He nodded. Yeah.  He’d been trying to say starving.

Steve made a noisy sort of huffing sound with some rumble behind it, then squared his shoulders and nodded before raising his right hand.  His left signed, ‘Watch.’

Eddie nodded.

Steve made an exaggerated face and dragged his C-hand down his throat with more force.  ‘Ok?’

Eddie nodded.  Okay, yeah.  He could do that.

Steve wasn’t done.  ‘W O R K?’

Eddie smiled and nodded his fist.  ‘Yes.’

Steve tapped the inside of his right wrist against the back of his left wrist.  ‘Work,’ he signed.

Eddie repeated the sign, and Steve nodded, giving him an enthusiastic thumb’s up.

‘Now- go-you-me.’ Steve signed—Eddie was...pretty sure? God he needed to practice more.

But he answered Steve with a happy, ‘OK,’ and didn’t mind at all when Steve took his hand.

Until suddenly he did mind because…

He dragged Steve to a halt and cleared his throat, pulling out his phone with his free hand and typing as fast as he could, ‘What did I say? Before?  What did I fuck up?’

Steve’s eyes got wide and he waved him off, but Eddie tugged on him until Steve let out a small groan, snatched the phone, and began to type.  Eddie had not one single qualm about reading over his shoulder, and in about five seconds, he wanted the earth to swallow him whole.

“I signed what?” he demanded aloud, forgetting himself entirely.

Steve looked over his shoulder, his face kind of…different.  Confused?  Full of pity at how fucking pathetic Eddie was?  Embarrassed to know him?

Was he…

Eddie’s thoughts came to a sudden, screeching halt when Steve cradled his face between his hands.  He leaned forward until his lips were practically brushing Eddie’s ear and he whispered aloud, “I’d be happy to fix that problem too.”

Eddie was already pretty sure spontaneous combustion was a thing, and now he was about to be living proof because oh my GOD.  Oh my... god oh my god oh my…

Steve dragged a thumb over Eddie’s lower lip, then raised his brows like he was asking, ‘Is this okay?’

Eddie nodded frantically and Steve began walking him backward until his back suddenly hit…oh.  It was a tree.  The bark was sharp against his bare elbow, but all of that ceased to matter the second Steve’s lips touched his.  It wasn’t a wild, desperate kiss of star-crossed lovers in the books Eddie secretly read.

No, it was soft.  It was gentle.

It was warm and it was fucking needy as hell but it was also the first kiss in a line of what Eddie was determined to have as many, many, many as he could.  As many as Steve would allow.

For the rest of their lives, God help them both.

Steve gently licked into Eddie’s mouth before finally pulling away, and the stress of Wayne being hurt and then him thoroughly embarrassing himself, he wasn’t hard or anything, but there was definitely a sort of humming desire under his skin which were as warm as his hands were because they...

Oh.

He looked down and realized that he’d rucked up Steve’s shirt and was digging his fingers into Steve’s bare hips.  ‘Sorry,’ he signed, dislodging one hand.

Steve laughed—a quiet huff mostly through his nose, and he shook his head before stealing a last kiss.  Eddie wanted to chase it, but he forced himself to keep his back to the tree as Steve dug into his pocket for his phone again.

‘For now,” he wiggled his phone.  ‘Until we can spend more time together and I can teach you more,’ Steve typed out.

Eddie swallowed heavily, then nodded.  ‘Why are you here?’

Steve frowned like he was confused why Eddie would even ask that. ‘Dustin said your uncle was hurt.  I didn’t want you to be alone when they kicked you out.’

Those words, that simple fucking act of kindness, was almost too much.  The emotions overwhelmed him and he wanted to laugh, and cry, and scream, and fucking sing until his throat seized up and he lost his voice.

He stared at the phone screen until Steve dragged a tender touch across the top of his hand, and he looked up.

‘Come home with me tonight.  Sleep,’ Steve typed before shoving his phone back into his pocket without waiting for Eddie’s answer.  He knew he should probably say no because they hadn’t even had their date yet, but then again, Eddie had never been conventional.

Never would be conventional.

He rubbed a flat palm over his chest.  ‘Please.’

Steve’s eyes darkened, just for a second.  Eddie panicked before he realized that no, he’d gotten the sign just right.  Steve was just maybe thinking of other ways Eddie might use that sign and…yeah.

Shit yeah.

Maybe not now.  Not tonight.  Not even very soon.

But soon enough.

Steve linked their fingers together and tugged…

And Eddie followed.

*** 

(Eddie’s ASL fuck-up.  Common mistake in ASL- Hungry=Horny.  Work=Fuck.  Steve is kind of okay with that idea too lol)

[strangersteddierthings]

The Response

Part Two of The Interview [Part One] [Ao3]

With no exact time given by Robin, Eddie's left to kill time. He drags himself from the YouTube spiral to try and track down Steve on social media. After two hours, he concludes that either Steve has his (and official Corroded Coffin's) socials blocked, or Steve just doesn't have any. He's a bit baffled that people can even find Steve to send hate mail to him.

He shoots a text to Gareth. Can you find Steve on any socials?

He gets an instant reply.

DO NOT CONTACT!!!

WAIT FOR RESPONSE

DONOT MAKE THISS WORSE MUNSON

Eddie frowns down at his phone but doesn't argue. He probably would make it worse. He sends back 'k' and looks back to the laptop. Watches it auto-refresh but Robin's feed hasn't changed.

God, what will Steve have to say?

It's mostly true, that Eddie hasn't thought about Steve in years. That's been deliberate. Eddie was so furious back then. Robin wasn't wrong about him venting his feelings into a song, but how was he supposed to know Hey Steve would be the song the catch the ear of the people? And yeah, the lyrics are very unflattering.

A lot of their first songs were filled with rage. The whole first album is just their collective high school experiences. Songs about growing up in Hawkins and how shit that was for them, a song about Eddie's complicated feelings towards his dad, songs about dungeons and dragons disguised as fantasy ballads, things like that. And, of course, Hey Steve.

He can admit that years ago he reevaluated the lyrics and found it to be more harsh than was warranted. But he figured there was no point worrying about that. People exaggerate in songs all the time. The song is out, people still plead for it to be played during encore performances. Eddie hadn't thought it was hurting anyone to play it.

Hey Steve had taken Eddie less than two days to write. He did almost nothing for those two days except write. Fuck. He was still just a dumb kid when he wrote it, barely graduated high school. And the reason for writing it...

Eddie had know Steve wasn't out to his parents when he'd asked Steve to essentially runaway with him. Steve had worried about things like money, and living situations, and getting food. It had all sounded like excuses to Eddie back then. Like Steve was picking the safety of Hawkins and his parents' house over going out into the world to be with Eddie freely.

They'd fought about it. The worst fight they'd ever had. Yet, here Eddie is, a decade later and unable to recall anything that was actually said. Just a summary of that conversation exists in his mind, now. Steve wanting to wait. To save more money now that his hours at the grocery store would be changing from part time to full with him no longer being in school and able to work the morning shifts. Wait to get his car fully transferred to his name from his parents.

All things that adult Eddie can now see as reasonable. Jesus Fucking Christ. He remembers he'd given Steve some sort of ultimatum. He was leaving on the last Grey Hound from Hawkins to Indy. Steve could meet him at the bus stop or stay, but Eddie was going, with or without him.

Steve had shouted back. He knows they just got louder and nastier until Steve finally told him that he would be going without him, then, because they were over. Even as angry as Eddie had been, he'd held out hope. But that last bus left Hawkins with Eddie on it and no sign of Steve in sight.

So Eddie did what he did best. Channeled that hurt into anger and wrote a song. Never in a million years did he think that, in the very first bar they played at in Indy, they'd meet a man who wanted to take a chance with them and get them a demo. All they needed to do was get from Indy to LA. Eddie had a van and the motivation. The next year of his life was too busy for him to even think, much less worry about Steve and his breakup.

Well, that was a lie. He thought about it constantly and shoved the thoughts aside as quickly as they came. Easier to do when he had no way to check up on Steve. He left Hawkins with no laptop and a pay-per-text flip phone he'd bought at a gas station. Wayne tried his best to provide for Eddie, and that meant they'd had one cell phone between the two, and Eddie had insisted that Wayne keep it.

By the time he got a laptop and internet, Steve had blocked him on Facebook and Twitter. That was the conclusion Eddie had come to when he finally worked up the nerve to swallow his pride and apologize and couldn't find Steve on either platform. Another thing that had filled Eddie with anger and hurt. Steve had broken up with him and then made sure Eddie couldn't reach back out.

Now he wonders, did Steve block him, or did Steve delete his socials to stop the hate mail?

Eddie feels nauseous.

Fuck!

What's worse is that, before the fight, Eddie had been so sure he was in love with Steve. But how can he say that with how quickly he dropped him? With how he's acted ever since? He could justify it to himself when he was still freshly broken up with and hurting but that faded away as fame took over.

Hard to be sad about not having a boyfriend when there were plenty of people lining up to be with him.

He pulls himself from his head to look at the laptop. A new tweet shows on Robin's screen and he scrambled to turn off the auto-refresher.

It's a short tweet, and Eddie sees she's changed her name as well.

Clicking the link takes him to a YouTube video.

It starts with the camera slightly jiggling, presumably from someone hitting record. It's been set up in a recording studio. A stool in front of a mic that's suspended from the ceiling is the only thing in the frame.

"Alright, dingus, last chance to change your mind about this," Robin's voice is picked up from off screen.

"You can't talk me out of this," says a male voice, and without any thought about it, Eddie's hand flings out and slaps the space bar, pausing the video. His heart is pounding, and he has to take a few deep breaths. That was Steve's voice. Of course, it was Steve's voice, it's his statement video, but hearing it again. Hearing it spoken softly but determined.

Swallowing feels difficult. Eddie's last memory of Steve's voice was screaming. This is... this is the Steve he never thought he'd hear again, and hasn't realized how much he desperately wanted to. With shaking hands, he presses play again.

Steve steps into frame, takes a seat on the stool. He looks in the direction of the camera, and Eddie has to pause again, to take him in. His hair is longer than it was in high school, the ends of it touching his shoulders. He's got it pulled up in a half updo, keeping the hair out of his face. His face is familiar and yet so different. He certainly looks older but not in a bad way. The biggest difference is his nose; it's not as straight as it once was, like it's been broken and healed wrong. His strong, square face is as handsome as it ever was, perhaps more so now. Eddie's eyes are drawn to the two moles on his cheek; his eyes have always been drawn there. It was his favorite place to kiss Steve.

He's wearing light wash jeans and a deep blue Henley. And fuck if it doesn't make him look good.

Eddie unpauses again, and waits to hear the retribution he deserves.

"This good, Robin?"

"Yeah, you're perfectly in frame."

"Good. Uhh, hi. I'm Steve. Robin told me that there was a lot of fuss regarding a certain Corroded Coffin song, and that people wanted to hear from me. Which is wild 'cause like, I'm just some guy and I don't really have much to say-" Steve is saying, with a shrug of his shoulders.

"Steve!" Robin interrupts him, "I just had to help you move because someone threw a brick through your window! What do-"

"Okay! I get it! But that's not Corroded Coffin's fault. They do that whole anti-bullying thing! It's not like they don't address harassment and bullying. I-" Steve cuts off, seeming to remember he's on camera. His face turns pink. "We can argue this later. Uhh, anyway. There is something I want to say to Eddie Munson, so I hope he's watching."

He makes a 'give it to me' gesture and Robin enters frame, handing him an acoustic guitar. "I thought I'd answer using the one thing Eddie understands best. Music. So, uh, I wrote this song with Robin's help. Lyrics are mine but the melody is Robin. The song doesn't have a title but, uh, okay. Here it goes."

And then, Steve starts to sing, looking down at the guitar for correct finger placement more than singing into the mic but it picks him up well regardless.

"Do you think I'd give up? That this might've shook the love from me? Or that I was on the brink? How could you think, darling, I'd scare so easily? Now that it's done There's not one thing that I would change My life was a storm, since I was born. How could I fear any hurricane? If someone asked me at the end I'll tell them put me back in it-" Eddie is sitting down, and still he feels the floor fall out from under him.

"-Darling, I would do it again, ah, ah If I could hold you for a minute Darling, I'd go through it again, ah, ah."

Eddie doesn't hear the rest of the song because of the blood pounding in his ears. This can't be- it doesn't mean- after all this time? After everything that's happened, everything Eddie let happen, unintentionally or not.

His phone buzzes against his leg. He ignores it in favor of restarting the video and listening to the video from the start. He listens to the whole song and it ends without anything else. Once Steve's strummed the last chord, he just stands up, walks to the camera and the video ends.

He restarts the video again, and again, and again. Hears Steve sing How could you think I'd scare so easily and I would do it again if I could hold you for a minute and though I know my heart would break I'd tell them put me back in it.

It's through the tenth, or eleventh, playback that his phone buzzes again and he fumbles to answer blindly, unable to pull his eyes away from Steve on the screen of his laptop.

"Gare- It's not- what did I do Gare? Everything I thought Steve would have to say never came close to what he just sang. I can't- I don't know what to do," Eddie sobs into the phone.

There's a pause of silence before what is very much not Gareth's voice says, "Well, dammit Munson. I was calling to rip you a new one but you're already crying."

It takes Eddie a moment to place the voice, "Robin?"

"Unfortunately, yes," Robin says. "I think Steve's let you off easily, but I also know I kick a hornet's nest with my interview so I think we should work on getting this cleared up, both publicly and privately."

"How did you get my num-"

"Gareth. Keep up, Munson. I'd like us to be able to call off each other's fans. Your PR team and whoever you employee to do that anti-bullying campaign have done a pretty good job so far in telling people to back off, politely. Helps that Jeff has been on top of this from the beginning. Honestly, I think the best decision you've ever made in your life was making Jeff the front man of your band and not yourself. He's much more pleasant to talk to, and so good with people."

"Robin!" Eddie has to shout because Robin keeps saying words and they don't make sense. "What?"

He hears a sign from the other end of the phone. "You are annoying. You know that, Munson? I'll work with Gareth to get this done. I think we should be seen together, publicly. Maybe getting a coffee. So everyone knows we've made up, or whatever it is Gareth and I decide is happening. We should also meet up privately. There's a lot to talk about."

"I'm so confused."

"Nothing new. Now, when are you free to get on a plane to Pendleton, Oregon?"

"Pendleton?"

"Munson!" Robin snaps, "we just established that you live in a perpetual state of confusion. Instead of questioning me, how about you answer my questions. Now, when are you free?"

"Anytime."

"Smart answer. Get your ass to Pendleton by the morning of the twenty-third. I'll work with Gareth for all the other concerns. He's easier to deal with."

"Can I ask one follow up question at least!?"

"You just did but I'll allow one more before I hang up."

"Why Pendleton?"

"It's the nearest airport to our destination. I am not having a private conversation with you in California. I don't want to be caught speaking to you until Gareth and I have a chance to work out the details."

And then Robin hangs up.

Eddie leans forward and restarts the video on his laptop before looking up plane tickets. Fixing things with Robin might be the first step in ever getting try and, he doesn't know, apologize to Steve? Maybe even have a conversation one day.

He doesn't deserve that chance, he thinks, but he's a bad enough person to want it anyway.

[libraryofgage]

Addams Family Steddie Part 5

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four

The fact that we're on part five is wild to me

Anyway, here's the wedding! It's probably the longest part so far lol

As always, if you see any typos, no you didn't ;)

Wedding planning was, unsurprisingly, a stressful process. Planning for a wedding only two weeks before the event was even more stressful. Thankfully, Steve wasn't planning alone; he was in charge of finalizing the guest list, sending invitations, and catering while Eddie was in charge of floral arrangements, music, and decorations for the ceremony.

Steve had felt the division of labor wasn't fair, but Eddie insisted he'd be able to do everything himself.

And Eddie had been right. He'd kept the cemetery just creepy enough to still feel right while decorating it with flowers and ribbons and surprisingly comfortable chairs considering they look like they're made of bones. Everything leads up to an altar right on their shared cemetery plot, where Eddie's Cousin Itt is standing in front of their tombstone to officiate the wedding.

It's all very nice, and Eddie did a wonderful job of setting everything up, but Steve can hardly appreciate it right now. He's too nervous. Not about marrying Eddie; no, he's excited and over the moon for that. He's nervous about meeting Eddie's family, his stomach upheaving over the idea that one of them may not like him.

"You're worrying over nothing," Eddie whispers, his lips brushing against Steve's earlobe before playfully tugging on it with his teeth. He wraps an arm around Steve's waist, the reassuring weight helping him feel grounded. "They're gonna love you."

"Your cousin has been glaring at me since she saw me," Steve whispers back, turning to look at Eddie and letting their noses brush.

"That's just Wednesday. She glares at everyone."

"Does she always glare at people like she's planning five ways to cook them for dinner?"

"Only the ones she likes."

Steve snorts, taking a deep breath and letting his head drop onto Eddie's shoulder. "What would she do if she didn't like me?" he asks, glancing down at the bouquet in his hands. The rose stems have been clipped of their flowers, leaving only the thorns and white lilies.

"She'd kill you," Eddie says bluntly.

"What, no torture?"

"She only tortures the people she loves."

"Oh," Steve says, glancing at the pale man next to Wednesday, "that's why her partner looks like that."

Before Eddie can start cracking up, the sun begins to set and El begins playing the piano, a low and haunting version of the wedding march. "You ready, sweetheart?" Eddie asks, his smile matching Steve's in love and joy and sheer excitement.

"Of course," Steve replies, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek before letting Eddie lead him down the aisle. The left side of the aisle is filled with people who give off the exact same vibe as Eddie: mysterious, kooky, and altogether ooky. Wayne is standing on Eddie's side of the altar, looking two seconds away from tears of joy. On the right side of the aisle, Dustin (a black velvet pillow holding two rings in his lap) and his friends are filling the seats, along with Jonathan (an old friend from high school, sort of; it's complicated), his partner Argyle, and Nancy (Steve's ex-girlfriend from high school, part of the reason his friendship with Jonathan is complicated, and now making eyes at Robin). Robin is standing on Steve's side of the altar, practically buzzing in her dark green pantsuit.

When they get to the altar, standing almost perfectly centered on their plot, Eddie can barely put any distance between them. Steve is the one who has to smile at him reassuringly while taking a small step back, keeping a tight hold on Eddie's hand. Eddie squeezes tightly enough that Steve is almost worried about bone fractures, but Eddie wouldn't do anything so fun in front of others.

Steve glances at Cousin Itt when he starts speaking, his words unintelligible, high-pitched noises that Steve is somehow able to follow. They're the general officiant stuff: dearly beloved, marrying two men, joining them in unholy and downright sacrilegious matrimony. Honestly, Steve ends up blocking it out at some point, too busy getting lost in Eddie's eyes.

He looks handsome in his black suit with blood-red accents, his fingers uncharacteristically devoid of all rings except the engaged-to-be-engaged ring from Steve. When Steve had asked, Eddie grinned at him and said he didn't want anything to distract him from the ring Steve was about to give him. His hair is pushed out of his face, too, just barely tamed into something the humidity will destroy after about two more minutes. Strands are already falling back into his eyes. Steve likes it, though, and he reaches up to gently tuck one of the strands behind Eddie's ear.

Eddie catches his hand, bringing Steve's palm to his lips and playfully biting. "Stevie," he says, and Steve suddenly realizes they've somehow gotten to the vows when he wasn't paying attention, "I would kill for you. I would die for you. I would live for you. You haunt my dreams and bless my nightmares. Your voice is music to my ears, a symphony of love and passion to which my heart beats. Sweetheart, you will have my undying love for the rest of eternity and whatever may come after. Ask anything of me, and I will do it without question. I would wear pastels for you. I would dive into a rainbow ball pit. Darling, I would drive kids to scout meetings in a minivan for you. There is no truer happiness to me so long as you smile and say you love me."

Somehow, Eddie manages to go the entire time without a single tear shedding, but Steve isn't nearly as lucky. His eyes watered from the moment Eddie called him Stevie, and tears would be staining his collar if Eddie weren't wiping them away with his thumbs before they could fall. "You're so romantic," he mumbles, unable to help a short laugh at himself.

"What can I say? You're inspiring," Eddie replies, winking playfully.

Cousin Itt says something more and then looks up at Steve, bending forward slightly to indicate that it's his turn to recite vows. Steve takes a deep breath, steadying himself and gathering his thoughts. "When you first knocked on my door, I wasn't sure what to think of you, Eddie Munson," Steve says, reaching up and placing his hand over the one Eddie has on his cheek. "But you romanced me, completely swept me off my feet, and helped me feel more comfortable showing love in a way that feels right. Every time I look into your eyes, I fall in love all over again. When we're together, the entire world fades away. My love for you is as unwavering as the tides, as all-consuming as a black hole that would swallow the universe."

From the crowd, Steve can just barely hear a man's voice saying, "Tish, they're almost as romantic as us."

"Oh, Gomez, you always do love competition," a woman responds.

Steve has to keep himself from laughing, suddenly looking forward to meeting Gomez and Morticia.

Eddie notices his barely contained smile and nearly buzzes with the want to kiss it. He glances at Cousin Itt, jerking his head in Dustin's direction and raising his eyebrows. Cousin Itt garbles a response, something that sounds like a scolding but is quickly followed by a slight bow toward Dustin nonetheless.

Dustin jumps up and walks over to them, holding up the pillow. As Cousin Itt starts his version of exchanging the rings, Eddie picks one up. The band is an inky black with tiny, multi-colored gems scattered across the top like stars. Inside the band, Eddie's name is engraved in red. "Now, you'll always have me with you," Eddie says, grinning at Steve as he slips the ring onto his finger, nestling it against the engagement ring.

It's a snug fit, just tight enough for Steve to know it's there and wonder if it's impossible to take off. It's perfect.

Steve picks up the identical ring with his own name engraved on the inner band. "And you'll always have me with you, too," Steve replies, sliding the ring to rest against his engaged-to-be-engaged ring.

What follows is Dustin quickly retreating and Robin yanking away his bouquet while Cousin Itt bows slightly to the both of them and happily squeaks out one last sentence. Steve barely braces himself for Eddie pulling him close, spinning him into a dip, and kissing him breathless. Steve can't help laughing into the kiss as he wraps his arms around Eddie's neck, brushing his tongue along Eddie's lips and tasting cyanide punch still lingering behind his teeth.

Wolf whistles (Robin and a few of Eddie's cousins), cheers (Wayne and the rest of Eddie's family), and exaggerated exclamations of disgust (Dustin and his friends) surround them as Eddie bites his bottom lip before breaking the kiss. Steve grins at him, playfully tugging on a lock of Eddie's hair as he asks, "You gonna let me up, handsome?"

"You could poison me and I'd only hold you tighter, sweetheart," Eddie tells him.

"Promise?"

Eddie grins and pulls Steve out of the dip, keeping him close as he turns to the crowd with a happy smile. "Okay, everyone," he says, his hand dropping down to Steve's lower back, "the reception is over by the Sheffield Mausoleum. Stevie and I will be joining you shortly."

Steve reaches out for Eddie's left hand as the crowd rises and disperses towards a mausoleum behind the altar. The wedding ring pairs nicely with the engaged-to-be-engaged ring, and the gems on both reflect the last, soft rays of the setting sun and the lamps hung all around them so guests can still see in the dark.

The only one who hangs back is Dustin, bouncing on the balls of his feet. Eddie notices him and gently pulls his hand from Steve's so he can hold an arm out. Dustin lights up and barrels straight into them. "You're, like, my brother now!" Dustin says, looking up at Eddie with stars in his eyes.

"Gee, was I not doing a good enough job?" Steve asks.

Dustin snorts, poking Steve's ribs as he pulls away. "Sorry, man, you're just not as cool as Eddie."

"Woah, woah," Eddie says, maliciously ruffling Dustin's hair, "that's my husband you're talking about. I won't tolerate a single bad word about him."

"Oh, gross, you're gonna be even worse now," Dustin whines, slapping Eddie's hand away.

Steve can't help laughing, about to make a similar joke about brutalizing his husband only to be interrupted by a familiar and dreadful voice coming from his left.

"Steven?"

Every muscle in Steve stiffens, his entire body becoming straight as a board against his will, and he sees the exact same thing happen to Dustin. He doesn't want to, but Steve still forces himself to lean forward so he can see around Eddie.

There are two people standing right on the border between the green grass with clean tombstones and the stubborn weeds and vines climbing up worn stone. Both are middle-aged; the woman has blonde hair perfectly curled to frame her face and brown eyes, and the man has dark brown hair carefully styled with just barely too much gel and dull green eyes.

Steve feels his palms grow clammy as a spike of white-hot anxiety shoots up his spine. He glances at Dustin, reassuringly pats his shoulder, and pushes him closer to Eddie. His husband (he should be feeling much happier when referring to Eddie as such, and the fact that he doesn't fills him with anger and frustration equal to the anxiety caused by the man and woman) clearly has questions but doesn't say anything. Eddie just places a hand on Dustin's shoulder, the same spot Steve patted.

Steve takes a deep breath and turns, plastering on a smile so fake that it makes his stomach churn. "Mom, Dad, what are you doing here?" he asks, walking over to the two but staying on the brown and ancient side of the grass.

His mother raises a single, perfect eyebrow at him. "We received news of the wedding from our secretary," she says.

"Honestly, Steven, what else are we supposed to do when our eldest son gets married?" his father asks. And for a brief moment, Steve thinks they'll be supportive. Maybe they'll pull out a small but thoughtful wedding gift and mingle with the rest of the guests. He's wrong, of course, but it was a nice delusion while it lasted. "Of course, we had to come and stop you from getting married to this Munson character."

His mother huffs softly, her fingers twitching like she's about to reach for a cigarette even though she claimed to stop smoking years ago. "It seems we're a little too late for that, though. No matter. We're friends with a judge, so come along, Steven, we'll get this marriage voided before morning."

Honestly, Steve is surprised Eddie managed to go so long without inserting himself. The moment his mother threatened to void the marriage, however, Eddie definitely isn't able to hold himself back any longer. He steps forward, wraps an arm around Steve's waist, and asks, "So sorry, but who are you, and why are you intruding on our wedding?"

The sheer offense on their faces almost makes Steve feel better as he places a hand on Eddie's chest right over his heart. And he says almost because the offense is quickly followed by his mother saying, "We are Steven's parents, and you are about two seconds from legal action."

Eddie actually laughs in her face, and Steve feels the tension drain from him at the sound. "Please, go ahead. We Munsons love a good court battle. They've yet to make any charges stick, you know," Eddie says, his grin nearly feral and sending a thrill from Steve's scalp down to his toes.

He grips Eddie's shirt, gaining his attention and flashing a suggestive smile. "Eds," Steve whispers, briefly forgetting about his parents and the rest of the world, "what charges?"

That feral grin somehow widens, bringing Steve's attention to the too-sharp canines that he wants to drag his tongue against until it bleeds. "Would you like the list in chronological or alphabetical order, sweetheart?" Eddie asks, leaning close until their lips are just barely touching.

Steve licks his lips, tongue brushing against Eddie's teasingly, and watches as Eddie's eyes darken into something hungry and insatiable and terrifying and thrilling.

"Oh, gross, seriously?!" Dustin cries from behind them, throwing his hands in the air. "Save it for the honeymoon."

That seems to break Steve's parents out of whatever stupor had overtaken them. "Steven!" his father warns, voice low and threatening and utterly laughable. "Step away from him this instant. Is this the kind of example you've been setting for Dustin? We promised his parents to raise him properly when we took him in."

Oh. That's the card they're going to pull now. Steve sighs, whispers, "Later," to Eddie, and turns to look at his parents. Eddie buries his head in Steve's neck, teeth playfully brushing against his skin despite the audience. "One, he's my husband," Steve says, raising a finger for each item that follows the first, "Two, any example I set will be far better than the one set by your absence. Three, I suggest you leave before you find yourself stuck in this cemetery indefinitely."

Eddie huffs softly against his neck, and Dustin moves closer to Steve's side, grabbing his sleeve tightly. "You haven't raised me at all," Dustin tells them, his voice prickly and indicative of the hackles that would be raised if he had any.

"That is enough," Steve's mother snaps, effectively shutting up her own husband as she takes a single step forward. It's the first one she's taken since they started speaking, but she still avoids stepping over the line made by the grass. "Steven, if you insist on this...mistake, we'll simply have no choice but to cut you off. We'll also have to take Dustin since you clearly aren't the good influence you promised to be."

Steve should probably be angry. In fact, he is, but that anger is overshadowed by the undeniable urge to laugh in her face. Which he does. Loudly. "I haven't used your money for myself in ages," Steve tells her, gesturing vaguely in the direction of the house, "In fact, it's all gone toward house payments and bills. So, sure, take the house. Eddie and I will get a new place with an even bigger room for Dustin who, by the way, is going fucking nowhere."

"Oh, I love it when you curse," Eddie murmurs, kissing a line up Steve's neck to just below his earlobe.

Despite himself, Steve grins a little. And then Dustin tugs on his sleeve, gaining his attention before saying, "I really don't want to go with them."

"You won't," Steve promises, continuing before either of his parents can say anything, "because you're sixteen. I'll make sure the custody case drags itself long enough for you to turn eighteen, and then they won't have any say over you."

"That would be very expensive, Steven," his father says, taking on a gentler tone like he's suddenly trying to play the good cop to his wife's bad cop. "I don't think you realize that supporting yourself won't be easy."

This, apparently, is what truly offends Eddie. He finally pulls away from Steve's neck, narrowing his eyes as a cold wind suddenly picks up. "Stevie won't have to support himself because I'll support him. You missed the beautiful and hauntingly romantic vows we just spoke, but Stevie won't be wanting for anything as long as I'm around. And that extends to the people he considers family."

As he speaks, the lamps around them seem to change, casting ghostly shadows over the cemetery. Something whispers in the wind, voice drawling and unintelligible but still threatening. An overbearing pressure begins to cast itself over the area, sparing Steve and Dustin but pressing down relentlessly on their parents. "Now," Eddie says, "unless you've suddenly become interested in the local real estate, I suggest you leave."

"Are you threatening us?" Steve's mother asks.

"Not at all," Eddie replies, his voice low and dark and that honeymoon can't start soon enough, actually. "I'm making a promise."

The wind shifts and howls, kicking up loose dirt and weeds and swirling around Steve's parents. Their faces drain, becoming increasingly pale, and Steve's mother looks ready to try speaking again only for his father to place a hand on her shoulder. At least he's smart enough to know when they've lost.

Steve watches them retreat, the wind following them until they've left the cemetery, and then turns to Eddie. "You look so beautiful when you threaten people," he says, grabbing Eddie's collar and yanking him down into a searing kiss that his husband happily returns.

It doesn't last long before Dustin interrupts, literally shoving himself between the two. "They won't come back, right?" he asks.

"Well, they might," Steve says, reassuringly messing up Dustin's hair, "but they won't be taking you anywhere."

"Yep, you're stuck with us," Eddie adds, picking up Dustin and throwing him over his left shoulder. He grins as Dustin squeaks. "Now, let's go party."

Steve snorts and grabs Eddie's right hand, leaving his left free to hold Dustin, as they walk towards the reception. Now that he's paying attention, he can hear the band playing and laughter-filled conversations filling the silence of the cemetery. He can also smell a whiff of something delicious, his stomach suddenly growling as he realizes how hungry he is.

Thankfully, a plate is shoved into his hand the moment they reach the outskirts of the crowd by a short man with greased-back hair, a wild glint in his eyes, and a cigar hanging from his lips. Next to him, a hand on his shoulder, is a tall and pale woman with blood-red lips and a knowing smile. "There you two are," the man says, removing the cigar as Eddie drops Dustin to the ground and shoves him towards the crowd. "Took you long enough."

Dustin sticks his tongue out at Eddie before running off, leaving them in the dust to join his friends. Steve shakes his head at the kid as Eddie smiles brightly at the two. "There was some trash to take care of," Eddie says, shrugging as he steals a roll from the plate in Steve's hand.

"I assume it's been properly disposed of?" the woman asks, an eyebrow rising slowly.

Eddie shrugs, holding the roll up to Steve's lips so he can take a bite. "For now. Might need to make good on a few promises, though," he says, biting off a piece after Steve.

The man laughs, clapping a hand on Eddie's shoulder. "Just let us know if you need any help, old man," he says, his grin wide and his eyes excited, "I always did love a good hunt."

Steve swallows the bread in his mouth and smiles at the two, finally getting an idea of who they are. "Gomez and Morticia, right?" he asks, his guess confirmed by Gomez's widening grin and Morticia's approving nod. "I've heard a lot about you. Thanks for the cutting from Cleopatra, by the way. Nix has been a great addition to the family."

Morticia straightens slightly (Steve didn't even realize that was possible). "You've named her Nix," she says, nodding once, "Fitting. How's her health?"

"She's gotten big enough to need three pounds of meat per week."

"How wonderful. She's almost matured. You've been taking very good care of her, then."

"Tish does love her plants," Gomez says, placing an arm around her waist and pulling her close in a familiar gesture. Maybe it runs in the family. "She grows the thorniest rose stems, you know."

Steve is about to respond when Eddie lights up, clearly seeing something that Steve doesn't. "Well, Stevie is haunting on the piano, not to mention how well he can swing a bat," he says, his chest puffing out slightly.

"Impressive! Tish is a killer at knitting and keeps her needles incredibly sharp."

"I remember she knit Pubert's onesies," Eddie says, and Steve swears he can hear a young man groan in the distance. "Stevie makes wonderful traps. I never see them coming until I'm hanging from the air and losing my breath."

Ah. Steve suddenly gets it. He looks at Morticia, silently asking if this is common, and her amused smile says it is. "Steve, walk with me while our husbands play together," she says, holding out her hand.

Steve nods and presses a quick kiss to Eddie's cheek before pulling away and offering Morticia his arm. She leads him around the crowd, staying on the outskirts. "I'd like to officially welcome you to the family," she says, his voice steady and reassuring and lingering. "You seem to fit in quite well."

"Oh, uh, thanks," Steve says, feeling that anxiety from before starting to churn in his stomach again. At least it distracts his stomach from the hunger. "This isn't, like, a threatening thing, right?"

"Would you like it to be?"

"Not particularly."

"Then, no. Not for now, at least. I don't see you requiring any threats, though. Everything I've heard about you tells me that you'll have no trouble adjusting to the Munson family and its Addams relatives. Just know that we watch out for our own, dear, and we gladly feast on those who would subdue us for we are always hungry."

Steve nods, finding that this aligns well with everything he's seen from Eddie, Wayne, and El. "I've always wanted a big family," he admits.

Morticia smiles at him, and it feels warm despite her initially cold demeanor. "And now you have one," she says, looking up and waving to someone in the crowd. "Speaking of, I'd like you to meet my children."

Three young adults slip out from the crowd, two boys and one girl. Steve already knows them, and he smiles, the expression only returned by the boys. "Wednesday, Pugsley, and Pubert, right? It's nice to meet you."

"We'll see about that," Wednesday replies, her voice dry and devoid of any inflection.

Pugsley, meanwhile, smiles brightly and claps Steve's shoulder. "Nice to meet you, Steve! Welcome to the family. How do you feel about explosives?"

"Good for some jobs, but lacking subtlety for others."

"I told you," Pubert says, shoving Pugsley aside to stand in front of Steve instead. "What about daggers?"

"Easy to hide but too subtle for some messages."

Pubert frowns slightly at this response but doesn't argue. Wednesday, meanwhile, stares at Steve for a few intense seconds before saying, "What are you afraid of?"

"Eddie being out of sight," Steve replies, not even needing to think of an answer. He glances over to where they left Eddie and Gomez, happy to see his husband is still there. Though, the two seem to have engaged in a sword fight at some point.

"How sickening," Wednesday says.

Steve looks back at her and grins. "Don't be jealous, Wednesday. I'm sure your partner feels the same," he says playfully.

She tenses slightly, seemingly unused to this kind of backtalk, but quickly relaxes. "You're interesting. I'll be keeping in touch." And with that, she turns on her heel and walks back into the crowd.

"Aw, man, she still has my kidney," Pubert says, quickly chasing after her. Pugsley shrugs, looking like he'd rather not be left out, and quickly follows Pubert after waving goodbye to Steve and Morticia.

"They like you," Morticia says, sounding pleased. "You should come visit us after your honeymoon. Where are you planning to go?"

"Paris and Rome. I want to see the catacombs in Paris, and Eddie wants to visit this museum in Rome where all the decorations are made with the bones of monks."

"Oh, how romantic," Morticia says, glancing to the side as the sound of swords crossing grows louder. She waits a few more seconds before saying, her voice staying the same volume as always, "Gomez."

The fight immediately stops, and Gomez seemingly materializes next to Morticia. He takes her hand, pressing kisses along her knuckles and up her arm. "Yes, cara mia?" he asks.

"How long has it been since we danced?"

"Hours," Gomez replies, grinning brightly as he pulls Morticia away and to the dancefloor.

Eddie appears next, wrapping his arms around Steve's waist from behind. "Stevie," he whispers, breath tickling the back of Steve's neck. "We haven't danced, either."

Steve snorts, places his plate on the nearest chair, and turns in Eddie's arms. "Well, lead the way."

With an excited glint in his eyes, Eddie drags Steve to the dancefloor as the band begins to play the waltz. A few other couples have begun dancing together, but they all make room as Eddie leads Steve to the very middle of the floor. He pulls Steve close, one hand on the small of his back and the other holding one of Steve's hands. Their fingers interlock, and Steve lets Eddie lead him around the dancefloor in graceful spins and flourishes.

"So," Eddie says, his voice quiet but immensely clear to Steve as the rest of the world fades away, "other than that brief interruption, how did you like the ceremony?"

"It was beautiful," Steve replies, sliding the hand on Eddie's shoulder to wrap around his neck and playfully tug on a lock of hair. "We should get married again."

"How does next month sound?"

"I was thinking of a wedding in Paris and one in Rome. Just for us, nobody else, with ancient bones as our witness."

"You say the most romantic things," Eddie says, his voice slightly dreamy. "I love you."

The waltz comes to an end as he says this, and Eddie leans down to kiss Steve as they continue dancing through the break in music. Steve smiles, letting his eyes slip shut and trusting Eddie to make sure he won't fall or trip on anything, and pushes his tongue past Eddie's lips.

"I love you, too," Steve whispers when the kiss breaks long enough to allow words. He's barely finished speaking when Eddie pulls him back in, drowning Steve in love and passion and promises of later.

Steve finds he doesn't mind the idea of never surfacing again so long as Eddie's lips never leave his own.

---

Tag List

(Tumblr has a limit, so I couldn't get everyone who's requested a tag, but I did try to get as many as I could)

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[forestmossling]

the last few days have been full of absolutely stunning works i’m still gearing up to share with you guys, but i’m gonna start here.

i love this so so much. first of all - LET STEVE AND EDDIE GROW OLD TOGETHER AGENDA!!! i was just incredibly happy to see them in their thirties, more or less settled in their lives, matured and distanced from the adrenaline rush of the upside down. and i really love how they finally meet each other, where they work, all of it.

i love how the relationships in this fic (even besides steddie) are so deep and caring while simultaneously being somewhat awkward and complicated at times. i love how steve and robin interact, i love how steve and dustin interact: obviously loving each other to bits, but with some rough stumbling to it sometimes, the way they relationships morphed and adjusted with them not living in each others’ back pockets anymore, but, fundamentally, stayed the same. i, unfortunately, struggle to write relationships this way: i use writing (and reading, duh) primarily for escapism, so i always want to give my characters the easy and perfect relationship i myself crave, because god knows i have a lot of deeply meaningful but messy and complicated stuff going on in my own life. but boy do i love to see authors who can pull it off so well.

and this was pulled off exceptionally well in case of steddie here. i adore everything about the way steddie’s relationship started and progressed here. i love the mundanity of it all, the way they found each other and connected in this little snippets of everyday routine before anything else came along. i love the way it seems like they really were destined to end up together, with their matching scars and past, with always searching for things in past partners that only they could give to each other, but that doesn’t mean it has to be some grandiose out-of-this-world thing to be meaningful and special.

i also really love both steve’s and eddie’s characterizations in this fic, their past experiences growing up, their outlook on relationships, themselves and each other, their priorities and grievances and feelings. i can so easily imagine them growing up to fit into this picture the author created and it makes me feel all sorts of things.

i would like to express my deepest gratitude to @emryses for creating this beautiful story, it tied me up in all sorts of knots but then untied me out of them better and more settled than before. i REALLY loved this and i think y’all would love it too, so am recommending, 983624538449576675829126599479/10.

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

There's Such a Sad Love (Deep in Your Eyes) - Chap 3

<- prev | start at the beginning | next -> | AO3

Eddie’s gonna kill him.

Not even exaggerating, he’s gonna kill Steve dead.

How hard is it to wake the fuck up? His dumb flat phone has been ringing for the last three hours!

…Okay, fine.. Eddie doesn’t know exactly how long it’s been ringing, but when you’re used to head-achingly constant quiet, any interruption becomes a nuisance immediately.

“Hello?”

“Fucking finally.” Eddie grumbles when Steve finally stirs enough to answer the phone.

“I’m sorry?” Steve says to the person on the other end of the line.

“I forgive you.” he grouses.

“No, no, I got that, but you were supposed to be here tomorrow, not today!” he struggles off the sagging air mattress and into his jeans, not even bothering to button them.

“Shit, shit, okay, yep, I’ll be here, I’ll—” His voice gets louder “Yes! Deliver! I’ll be here! Alright, bye.” 

He tosses the phone onto the sagging mattress and scrubs his face with his palms, mumbling “Stupid fucking phone signal..”

Eddie follows Steve out the bedroom door and down the stairs into the kitchen.

He smiles to himself when Steve stops in the doorway; He’d worked all night to get the damn cabinets open again.

“Good morning, Mr. Ghost… Ms. Ghost? Ghost Friend.” is what he finally lands on, unfreezing from the doorway and grabbing a can of something from the fridge.

Eddie breezes past him a bit too close, just barely brushing against him. Steve shudders against the chill. “I’m not sure if that’s a ‘Hello’ or a ‘Get the fuck out of here’.”

In response, Eddie pushes the sleep-mussed fringe of his bangs back off his forehead.

Steve smiles. “Hello...” Then he seems to remember something, “Oh, hey, the delivery guys are coming with my stuff soon.” He pauses a moment, “I’m guessing you’re gonna try something, but can you please not cause any injuries at least? I don’t want any more ghost-y roommates.”

“Aw man, but I do!” Eddie groans.

Steve tilts his head to listen to the quiet of the house for a few seconds, then calls out again. “Can you make some sort of noise so I know you aren’t gonna kill anyone?”

Eddie rolls his nonexistent eyes, “Sure, handsome, anything for you,” and knocks his knuckles on the open cabinet door beside Steve’s head.

Steve startles at the noise, “Jesus fuck! I’d also like to not die today, thanks.” he says, adding on a grumbled “Give me a damn heart attack, why don’tcha..” as he starts back toward the front of the house.

A laugh escapes him and Steve falters, stopping a couple steps away and turning back toward the kitchen.

If his word meant anything, he’d swear that Steve looks right at him.

His laughter stutters to a stop, and Steve shakes his head minutely as if to shake off a thought.

‘Did he hear me laughing?’

“....No, he couldn’t have, it’s way too early..” Eddie answers himself.

He watches until Steve’s out of sight, then floats through the hallway wall and into the closet under the stairs.

It’s one of Eddie’s favorite places in the house; small and quiet, and the place he feels most..solid (the most real?)..no matter what time of year it is. It gives him time to breathe, ironically, and no matter how untethered he might feel after Halloween, he feels like himself again here.

He’s done some long, complicated ciphering about why over the years, and he thinks the stairs and closet are positioned right over where his bedroom used to be in his and Wayne's trailer. He can get his thoughts together here, can think the clearest.

There's some commotion from outside his closet, so Eddie pops his head through the door to watch Steve and the moving company travel back and forth between the front door and the rest of the house.

Looks like he was in the closet longer than he thought (There’s definitely a gay joke here somewhere, Eddie thinks to himself), the hired team of movers are here and already carting in boxes and pieces of furniture.

Steve is helping the movers for some reason, carrying boxes further into the house, and Eddie finds his way back to the man’s side without even thinking about it.

Suddenly, Steve yells, “Nope! I have to do some work on the place, so everything but the bedframe and mattress can go in here!” in response to some question Eddie hadn’t heard. “The master is up the stairs, last door on the right. That one big dresser with the mirror can go there, too.”

“Hope you have some help lined up after they leave, pretty boy. You know I can’t help you.”

“I think I do, actually. Some kids already asked to help with the house anyway, so.”

“...What?”

“What?” one of the movers echoes.

Steve sets down the box he was carrying (‘clothes’ according to the large marker letters on one side) and turns back to the mover, confused. “I’ll have help to move it all again after I’m done with the remodels.”

“That’s..great man, good for you.” he says, equally confused.

Eddie’s frozen. “Okay, what the fuck.”

Steve can’t help but help the movers; he carries in some of the unimportant boxes, and grabs up the important ones he’d labeled when he packed up everything. Which was also something he couldn’t help but do even though the company he hired would pack and unpack his things as part of the cost anyway.

One of the five man team asks him about putting his furniture in their respective rooms, at least.

“Nope! I have to do some work on the place, so everything but the bedframe and mattress can go in here!” he calls back, carrying the couple of boxes of clothes in his arms into the foyer to the right of the front door, “The master is up the stairs, last door on the right. That one big dresser with the mirror can go there, too.” he calls over his shoulder

“Hope you have some help lined up after they leave, pretty boy. You know I can’t hel...”

Steve huffs in irritation, why are they trying to talk to him while walking away? “I think I do, actually. Some kids already asked to help with the house anyway, so.” he calls back to where the voice seemed to be retreating to.

“What?” the mover asks, sounding closer again.

Steve sets down the box of clothes he carried in, and turns back to the man who’s looking at him like he’s grown another head. “I’ll have help to move it all again after I’m done with the remodels.”

“That’s..great man, good for you.”

“You’re the one who asked..” Steve grumbles to himself when the guy walks back out to the truck.

There’s not much in the moving truck, so while the team is bringing in the larger pieces, he borrows one of them to help him empty his little trailer so he can take it back that afternoon.

The crew is done within the hour, and Steve sees them off, following them down the drive and turning to head into town. He stops in at the deli across from Melvald’s for lunch, and heads into the one internet provider’s office in town to set up his services (which was as easy as flipping the proverbial switch to turn them on, very nice), then heads to the hardware store because of course there wasn’t already a washer and dryer in the house.

Getting delivery scheduled for his new washer and dryer ends up taking forever, and it’s already late afternoon by time he’s done, so Steve heads back out to the big box store for groceries, heads home to eat Joyce's leftovers, showers, puts some sheets on his bed, then (finally) calls Robin..

“Finally got interwebs hooked up?” her forehead says in lieu of a ‘Hello?’ (that’s the only thing he can see on his screen at the moment).

“Yep, didn’t take too long, luckily, and good news for me: apparently the people who built this place decided to put in fiber cords? Which is really good I guess?” he says, flopping down onto his mattress on his stomach.

“Uh, yeah, that’s real good Dingus; Fiber is still one of the better things for internet connections, so congrats! You lucked out.”

“Then the guy at the hardware store took forever to schedule my laundry shit to be delivered, so I’m out a washer and dryer until next week. Yay.” he deadpans to her forehead (still the only thing he can see).

“But you’re settled in better now, right? At least now you can get started on that DIY board you’ve been hoarding onto since you first saw the place.”

“That's true, that’s true,” he concedes, swapping his video call app out for the one that holds all his inspiration boards, “This place is going to be amazing once I’m done with it.”

“I thought you already thought it was amazing.”

“No, no, it is..it’s just..” he pauses, scrolling down the hundreds of ideas he’d saved for just this moment…all of them not quite right. Even the simplest color palettes he’d liked look drab and boring when he thinks about actually using any of them on the house.

“None of it fits anymore, does it.”

Steve snorts out a laugh, “None! How is that even possible? What the hell am I supposed to do now?”

“What indeed..how in the world are you supposed to start changing things if you don’t even know what color paint your ghost roomie likes? What if they start haunting you even more after you paint the dining room sage instead of mustard??”

“Right?! He likes metal music for fucks sake, I can’t paint my whole house red and black or whatever just so he doesn’t haunt the fuck outta me!”

Robin’s silent for a moment, then “Wait, backup. One, how do you know he likes metal music, and two, ‘he’? How do you know it’s a ‘he’?”

“Oh my god! So much has happened, listen,” Steve explains everything to her, shifting onto his back as he does.

He tells her about the kids (“You better take them up on the offer, Dingus, that’s a lot of help.”), the girl Max who said “He likes metal music.”, the way his speaker turned down on its own when he asked ‘Jeeves’ to, the damn acknowledging knock he’d heard when Steve asked the entity not to hurt any of the movers as they brought in all his stuff.. All of it.

“I even heard a laugh, Robin. A goddamn laugh! It’s definitely a ghost.”

“Okay. Yep. That’s it, I’m never coming to visit. Mm-mph. Nope. No way.”

“Oh yeah, and the Hawkins Chief of Police said it might be a murderer!”

“Ah! What?! Steve. Steven. Steeb. You need to move. Pack up all your shit and get the fuck back here.”

He only partially heard her; Now he’s focusing on trying to look up any murders here in Hawkins over the years.

“Are you listening to me, Dingus?”

“Huh–yeah, yeah of course I am.”

“No you’re not, I can see you thinking.” Steve hears her type something into her phone. “The Creel murders, a death by rabid dog, death to cancer…”

“Are you reading the same things I am?”

“...No?”

“Uh huh, sure–ah ha! Listen, listen, listen,” Steve exclaims, sitting up and crossing his legs in the middle of his bed. “‘Hawkins High cheerleader, 18, found deceased at Forest Hills trailer park. Authorities say she was found by a resident of the park along with another body late on the night of the 31st. There is no further information at this time.’.”

“....Holy shit..holy shit..Ah! Okay, I found some more, Halloween, 1986... Uh….” she trails off, mumbling along as she reads. “This one says it’s called the ‘Forest Hills Murder’, and that there was, quote, ‘one suspect, two bodies, and conviction for one count of second degree murder.’.”

“Second degree?”

“Means that it wasn’t planned beforehand.”

Steve hums in understanding, continuing to scroll. “Why are there no names! I want to know who my ghost is, dammit!”

“Maybe…you should go to the library? Does Hawkins have a library? Maybe they’ll have old papers or something.”

“Yeah, it’s basically smack dab in the center of town....Do you think I should go to the library?”

“I think you should go to the library.”

That night, Steve once again dreams of that vast black place. He opens his eyes to it, and instead of being scared like last time, he’s somehow…comforted by it. 

The loud splash of water that comes from his right, however, makes him jump.

“Hi!” the girl with the ponytail says, bouncing to a stop in front of him.

“Uh, hi? I saw you last time, I think…Who are you?”

“I’m Chrissy!” she grins, her smile bright yet slightly crooked.

“Hi Chrissy, I’m Steve, uhm…what the hell is going on? Why are you in my dream?”

“I assume it’s because I died at Forest Hills.” She shrugs, as if it was the most benign news in the world.

Steve blinks at her in the darkness, takes in her uniform– “Oh my god, you’re the cheerleader who died! Are you–are you my ghost?” It’d be a surprise if Chrissy was a metal fan, but who’s he to judge? Maybe Max got the ghosts’ pronouns wrong? 

Chrissy waves him off with a laugh, “Oh, no, I’m not,”

“Wait, are they the one who killed you? I better not be living with a murderer ghost..”

She looks appalled at that, “Absolutely not! Where on earth did you even get that idea?”

“I’ve only read a little bit about the–your case so far, and all it said was that there were two bodies.” Steve scratches at the back of his neck nervously. What kind of protocol is there for talking to a dead girl about her death? “Rumor has it that the second one was the person who killed you. That your boyfriend killed him right after…?”

The cheerleader is silent, gazing at him sadly. 

“His name is Eddie.”

There’s a pull in Steve’s gut at the name. 

“Who’s name, your murderer? Your boyfriend?” She’s fading into the darkness that surrounds them, and Steve knows he must be waking up. “Please, tell me!”

Chrissy’s mouth moves, but Steve’s already falling out of his dream.

Groggily, he reaches for his phone, 6:04am. 

He huffs as he flops back against his pillows, but freezes in the next moment.

Out the door to his bedroom from where he’s laying, he can see part way down the hall and the last half of the staircase where it comes up to the second floor.

And what he sees glide up the steps onto the landing out of sight is what freezes him to his spot.

It was barely there, but there nonetheless. A shadow, just dark enough to be seen in the low light of the morning, the dark of it standing out against the pale cream of the wall next to the steps.

His heart hammers in his chest, his brain screaming ‘Holy shit, holy shit, he IS real, oh my god there’s a real life ghost in my house.’ at him (Wait, duh. You already knew this?? You heard the speaker lower on its own, you felt that cold breeze, heard that laugh?? He thinks, his thoughts rambling on without him.) when the shadow reappears, drifting into view in his doorway and it itself freezing under Steve’s gaze.

The shadow is still only just barely visible; not freakishly tall, Steve figures it’s about his own height, actually, and the edges of it flicker and move.

Heart still pounding, Steve speaks, his voice coming out in barely a whisper. “Eddie?”

As soon as the name is out of his mouth, the shadow disappears, looking both like it was swept away by an invisible breeze, and as if it dropped straight into the floor.

“Holy shit!”

After throwing together a whole two pieces of toast for breakfast, and leaving the strips of color he thought to pick up while at the hardware store out for his roommate with a note, Steve takes himself and the name Eddie with him to Hawkins Public Library.

His hopes of scouring old newspapers and records seem at least ten times more likely when he steps over the threshold and immediately feels like sneezing at the smell of the dusty old books around him.

He steps up to the front counter, “Good morning Mrs….” Steve leans in closer to read her name tag; ‘Claudia Henderson - she/her!’ is printed onto the plastic tag in permanent marker and punctuated with a fading yellow smiley face sticker “…Henderson—Henderson? Why does that sound familiar?”

“I’m not sure, hon–”

“HEY MOM!”

They both startle at the sudden yell, turning towards the noise; Dustin, that kid with the cap that had harassed him on his driveway yesterday, is running towards the front counter. 

‘Ah. Henderson.’

Mrs. Henderson tsks at her son, “Dustybuns, this is a library! Use your inside voice.” 

“Where’s th–Steve!”

Steve smiles at the kid, “Hey bud,”

“What’re you doing here?” he questions, then his face brightens exponentially. “Are you looking for stuff about ghosts?”

“Dusty, you know better than to ask that,” she chides, “What people are looking for at the library is no one’s business but their own.”

Dustin, however, chooses to ignore this. “It’s ghosts, isn’t it? Hang on, I know of a couple books that might help you!” 

Both Steve and Claudia attempt to stop him, “Dusty, wait—!”, “No, I’m oka—”, but Dustin’s already disappearing between two tall shelves.

“Damn, he’s quick.”

Claudia sighs, “I’m sorry about him, hon, he just gets super excited about whatever thing he’s fixated on at the moment.”

“It’s alright, Ms. Henderson, I know he means well.” Steve says with a smile.

“Well, let’s get you settled then, you need a library card, I assume?”

“Yes ma’am.”

She gets him set up with a card (‘Harrington? Oh, you must be Patty’s grandson! Oh, I’ve heard so much about you; your gran and I were in the same knitting club, you know.”), then points out an empty table by one of the front windows he can use if he’d like. Where each section is, what their return policy is and about the book reserve program, then finishes with a warm “Let me know if you need any help, Steve dear.”

“Actually, can you tell me where you keep your newspapers?”

She hmms thoughtfully for a moment, “Well, that depends on if you want the actual papers, or if you would like to scroll through them on the microfilm…what are you looking for, exactly?”

“I’m looking for information on the house I just bought? I’ve been told there was a death on the property previously and I wanted to look into it if I could. Library seemed like the best bet.”

“Oh, that’s just terrible! Sure, hon, let's get you set up at one of our machines and you can scroll through whatever year you’re looking for,” she beckons him to follow to another long row of desks. There are a couple other people with name tags like Claudia’s sitting at the computers behind it. “Do you have a timeframe?”

“Mid-80s I think?”

“Let me see what I can find for you,” Claudia nods, sitting down at a large white machine.

She shows him how to operate the clunky device, then disappears through a ‘Staff Only’ door.

Steve’s alone at the machine for five whole seconds before Dustin finds him.

“There you are! Okay, here, these are my favorites on the subject,” he hands him a small stack of books with mostly dark covers, one even has a lenticular image of a fanged skull, “These are a couple that are more fanatical,” two more are added to the pile, “and these two are more scientific in nature.”

He keeps ahold of the last two, stepping to the side to reach for and slide a chair from another machine next to Steve’s. “Are they a poltergeist too?  Are you trying to get rid of them? If so, I’ll need to pull some material on exorcisms too. Do you know why they would be sticking around? We need to figure out what their unfinished business might b—”

“Dustin! Dude!” Steve cuts him off with a laugh, “What happened to “Hey Steve.”, “Didja get unpacked already?”, “How’re your projects coming along, Steve?”...I just got here, my guy, lemme breathe for a second.”

Dustin rolls his eyes, “Did you figure out what colors your ghost likes?”

Steve rolls his eyes, “No, not yet. I put some out for him, so we’ll see if he decides to get rid of any.”

Claudia returns then, “Okay, here you are, sweetheart—Dusty! What’d I tell you about bothering Steve!”

“I’m not bothering him!” Dustin complains at the same time Steve says, “It’s been non-stop.”

The kid shoves at Steve’s shoulder, “Dude, shut up!”

He mimes nearly falling off his chair, “Do you see this, Ms. Henderson? I am being harassed in a public library.” he manages to say before breaking out into a grin.

“Shut up, asshole!” Dustin laughs.

“You shut up, buttface.”

“Okay, okay, settle down you two, Now Steve, do you have anywhere we can start? A date?” Claudia asks, loading up the first film in her small stack.

“I have one,” Steve nods, giving Dustin a final playful shove and reaching into his back pocket. “This article I found about the trailer park that used to be there?” He shows her his phone, open to the article from last night.

She scans it, then nods, scrolling on through the first film. “I say we check obituaries first, see if anyone sticks out? Then we can try birth announcements.”

“Would they have had an announcement printed if he was a murderer though?”

She looks at her son curiously.

“What?”

“Dustin is convinced there is a ghost on the property from the death there,” Steve explains as if he doesn’t already believe it himself, “And apparently the stories of the place include a possible murderer.”

“That’s why we need to figure out who it was so we can get him outta Steve’s house!”

“Well…” she gives them both another odd look, “Everybody has someone; this person’s someone may have had them printed as well.”

The first film ends up being the one they needed, for Chrissy at least.

“Here’s your cheerleader, Steve.” Claudia gestures to the machine’s screen. Half the front page of the Hawkins Post from November 1st, 1986 is dedicated to her. 

The crooked smile, the bangs, the ponytail. “That’s her alright. It’s gotta be.”

Dustin squished in from Steve’s left to read the tiny text. “‘Chrissy Cunningham, 18, was found dead early this morning by local 440 chapter president Wayne Munson at his home in the Forest Hills mobile home park.”

“‘Wayne Munson.’, Who’s Wayne Munson?”

“Not sure, but he’s involved somehow. Write that down.”

“‘Police say they have one of two suspects in custody, the other was found dead alongside Ms. Cunningham.’.”

“That’s gotta be the ones, remember? She died and the boyfriend found the guy right after!”

From there, it’s easy to find the information for one Jason Carver.

“Is he the guy?” Dustin squints closer at the small yearbook picture. “Wait, if he’s the boyfriend, then he’s the murderer! Then who’s this other guy…?”

“What about Eddie, is there anything about anyone with that name?” Both Hendersons give Steve curious looks, “I was given that name from…a reliable source.” Very reliable. 

“Why don’t we go back to that Wayne fella,” Claudia says, standing from the machine to move behind a computer nearby. “If it was his trailer she was found in, maybe the other person has something to do with him?”

She clicks into her computer and starts to type at an alarming rate.

Steve glances over to Dustin, who’s wearing a bewildered look. He turns around in his chair, “Thanks for helping with this, Ms. Henderson.”

“Yeah mom, I didn’t know you would be this interested in something like this.”

“Oh pshh,” she scoffs, “Who doesn’t love a good mystery? Now, read off that last name again?”

“Munson, M-U-N-S-O-N.”

“Let’s see…says here that Wayne was President of our Local 440 branch until…oh, 1986.”

“What’s that?” Steve and Dustin ask in tandem.

“The 440 is the local union! Some of those guys come through here twice a month for their book club.”

Steve takes the name to his phone, typing in ‘wayne munson + indiana’. “‘New UA President Elected!’, obituary, oh! There’s a birth here…and it has a paywall.”

Claudia rolls her eyes and mutters a low “Of course,” then louder, “Let's find it here then, what’s the date?”

He gives her the date, a Friday in mid June 1966, and she sets up the corresponding microfilm roll, scrolling into the birth announcements.

“Ah, here it is: ‘Beloved former Miss Indiana and Hawkins native Elizabeth Munson (ne’ Johnson) and husband Albert Munson welcomed a bouncing baby boy to the world this past Saturday. ‘I am just plumb overjoyed,’ Wayne Munson, Al’s older brother and well-known face of Hawkins’ local branch of UA 440 said Saturday evening. Both mother and little Theodore Munson are happy and healthy after their short hospital stay.’. That’s just lovely, I didn’t know Hawkins had a Miss Indiana!” 

“But that’s Theodore though, not Eddie. Did she have any other kids?”

“Uhhh..” Steve draws out, typing ‘elizabeth munson miss indiana’ into his phone. “No, just the one son apparently..” He reads further, “Says she died in 1974 due to ovarian cancer.”

“Damn.”

“Poor Teddy..”

“Teddy?”

“Well sure, short for Theodore?” Claudia tsks sympathetically, “He was so young when she died..”

“Poor kid, I can’t imagine.”

“Wait! Teddy, Eddie!”

“Huh?”

“I dunno, maybe that’s your connection? Theodore to Teddy to Eddie. Maybe Wayne’s nephew is your Eddie?”

It took some more searching, but Dustin was right on the money; Steve finds the first mention of both names in a 1982 Hawkins High yearbook under a black and white picture of five teens in the book’s club section.

“‘Theodore “Eddie” Munson (far left), leader of Hawkins High’s newest club, Hellfire, with fellow sophomores Ronnie Ecker, Jeff Monroe, Frank Zuiwiski, and freshman Gareth Emerson.’.” Steve reads off. “‘The tabletop, pen-and-paper game Dungeons and Dragons (“D&D?” Dustin yells, attempting to pull the book from his hands, making Steve twist around in his chair to avoid him.) is the club’s main focus and is largely math based.’.”

Dustin pulls the yearbook from Steve’s hands as soon as he’s finished reading. “How did I not know Hawkins had a D&D club?!”

“Oh my god, my ghost is a nerd.”

“What the fuck?? What the fuck??”

Eddie had not expected Steve to be awake when he drifted upstairs that morning. Nor did he have any inkling that the man would whisper out a trembling “Eddie?” when he arrived at his door.

It’s only March, how in the hell can Steve even see him?

He sounded so scared too… damn it!  He only just got here and now Eddie’s gone and ruined everything.

Instead of bright sparkling happiness or burning hot rage, a deadening, sinking, cold melancholy seeps into his core. The dreadful feeling sinks him further down into the house, all the way to, and into, the floor of his closet under the stairs.

Eddie stays hidden away while Steve shuffles around that morning and for two mornings after that. He’s aware of the living man’s movements through the creaks of the floorboards and hinges as he goes about his day each day, unpacking boxes and accidentally cutting his finger, shocking himself when he sets up his fancy-ass TV in the master bedroom, listens when he sings along to the Spoofy he’s been playing for Eddie and some of his own modern-sounding songs.

But Eddie doesn't make an appearance.

For three days, he wallows, alone.

Late into the night of the second day, well, early in the morning on the third, technically, the Moon reaches to him, asks him what is wrong.

It’s still dark outside, the sky just beginning to lighten, when he leaves his confines and breezes out onto the back balcony.

He notices belatedly that were are boxes and dropcloths littered around the great room as he passed through it; seems like Steve had been busy.

Again, the moon reaches softly to him, What are you afraid of? her soft hold on him asks, the encouragement bleeding through her glow over him evident.

“My heart may be dead and gone, but that doesn’t mean I want it broken.”

He regrets his words immediately, her amusement at his slip up skitters all along the planks of Steve’s balcony.

“Nononono no, not like that, he doesn’t–I don’t–He just…” why is he trying to lie to her? “Okay, so what if I have a big fat crush on him? ‘Ooh everyone look the lovesick dead guy’,” he mocks. “It’s not like jack shit can happen, so what if I do? It’s only a stupid crush anyway.”

Eddie listens to the sounds of the night as the sky lightens a couple shades more, the Moon’s continued amusement apparent to none but him.

Her jovial mood dies off after a shade or so more, then turns questioning once again, though tired, apparent from her low seat in the sky.

Eddie’s gut twists, “He could see me…Why can he see me already?”

The confusion persists, a new drop of encouragement comes and goes.

“I’m sure I scared him with the…” he gestures to the wispy all of him, “I don’t want to freak him out more…”

She grows exasperated with him; Eddie can picture his late Uncle’s good-natured eye roll and practically hear the fond tongue-click behind her new irritation.

“What? What’d I say?”

The Moon all but bowls him over with one more blast of encouragement before she disappears behind the trees and under her sister’s glow.

Eddie huffs out a sigh. Message received…

Eventually, later in the morning, the stairs above him creak with Steve’s weight, and Eddie listens to him hum as he passes outside his door toward the kitchen.

He’s there for a little bit, probably eating something? Then the sound of Dio filters down the hall to him. 

Steve started the Spoofy for him again.

Soon after, the door into the garage opens and closes, and only after the garage door itself shudders to a stop, does Eddie leave his spot.

He wanders the house, taking in everything Steve had moved, or even torn off in his absence (“That wallpaper really was horrible, good on ya Steve.”), but eventually ends up back in the kitchen, thinking this time he’ll open a couple drawers for Steve instead of his usual cupboard fuckery, show him he’s back in action in a “Didja miss me?” type way, but stops short when he notices something laid out on the counter beside the speaker.

Color swatches. 

There’s a couple shades of green, some blues, a deep red, and even a bright sunshine yellow laid out with a slip of lined paper.

Eddie eases forward, clipping into the countertop as he does, to read the note.

He stares dumbly at it for what feels like weeks.

Steve wants to know what he thinks? What Eddie would pick? Why? This is Steve’s house, why does his opinion matter?

‘It’s because he likes you.’ his not-actually-there brain tells him

“No the fuck he doesn’t, I’m dead. A ghost. I’m a nuisance at best.”

‘He knew your name.’

That happy sparking feeling returns, shooting through where his heart would be.

“He knew my name.”

Bright yellow flashes in his chest briefly. 

How did Steve figure that one out?

‘He said your name.’ he thinks to himself, then the sound of Steve saying his name starts to cycle across his thoughts.

“Eddie?”, “Eddie?”, “Eddie?”, “Eddie?”....over and over again until it stops sounding like a real word.

“Eddie.” Steve says, his tone no longer questioning, but welcoming.

“Eddie.” Steve’s smiling this time.

“Eddie..” Steve’s happy to see him.

It takes him a handful of minutes each time, but he manages to flip over about half of the colors Steve had laid out.

“I must be outta my mind,” Eddie grumbles, glowing bright in the middle of the kitchen.

It took three days for Eddie to tell Steve what colors he doesn’t like. 

He left the swatches alone until something was done to them but eventually, on the morning of the third day since he’d put them out (after more decisions about where he’d use each if they weren’t vetoed, deciding which room he’d tackle first (the kitchen), and getting the rest of his furniture and TV situated in his room), Steve comes downstairs to find three of the blue shades and one each of the green, red, and grays flipped over on the countertop.

He smiles down at them as he eats his bowl of cereal; he’s not sure where his ghostly roommate is right now, so he sets down his bowl, fishes a pen out of his junk drawer, and adds a line to his note

<- prev | next ->

i can't believe i didn't do this on the first part, but tagging everyone who was interested in reading the whole fic from my first post w this concept!! (i think some of you already found pt 1 though!!): @gothwifehotchner @puppy-steve @babydollbaron @a-bun-danceoflove @after-the-end-times @mightbeasleep @shapeofaperson @val-from-lawrence @madigoround @steviebats @nburkhardt @scoops-stevie @kas-eddie-munson @i-less-than-threee-you @milf-harrington @khalesprix @matchingbatbites

and also tagging those interested on the last part <3: @little-birch-boy

[stevieharringtonwifeguy]

Transfem Stevie who figures it out when she goes to a gay bar with Robin (post s3?) and meets another transwoman and has a Huh, you can do that? moment.

i sort of Went Off on this one lmaoo. bc im incapable of not steddifying everything this is now T4T Steddie 2: This Time They're Lesbians- with trans girl eddie cracking stevie's egg

PLEASE NOTE: this is set in the 80s, so they use kind of outdated terminology for trans people. also there's a d slur used in a positive, self-ID way. overall the vibes are good but the language is questionable. do with that what you will lol

When Robin asks Steve to be her ‘emotional support heterosexual’ (her words) for her first visit to an Indianapolis gay club, Steve prepares himself for a night of ‘hey, have you met my friend Robin’, pointedly not hitting on any girls, and politely declining offers of drinks and dances from guys until he’s buzzed enough to admit he’s curious. And so far, that’s exactly what he’s been doing. Robin’s off dancing with a girl after Steve assured her about ten times that he’d be fine on his own. He’s just debating whether or not his inhibitions are lowered enough to go dancing when his thoughts are interrupted by a voice to his right.

“Steeeeeeeve Harrington.”

Steve turns, already cringing. Anyone who says his name with a tone like that is someone who is not going to be thrilled with seeing him in a gay club. The thing is, Steve has no idea who this person is. Can’t even really tell if they’re a guy or a girl. Their features are fairly masculine, all lean muscles and square chin, but they’ve got long, wild hair and heavy eye makeup. The cropped muscle tank with ‘Massive Dyke’ printed in lurid red muddies the waters even further.

“Oh, hey… uh…” Yeah, Steve’s pulling a complete blank. They look kind of familiar? He’s definitely seen them around. Somewhere. 

They roll their eyes. “Not surprised King Steve doesn’t recognise me. Especially looking like this. What are you doing here?”

Steve sighs a little. “I’m here with a friend. She was nervous to come alone so I’m here for moral support and wingmanning.”

“Yeah, sure,” they scoff, and Steve frowns even more.

“Look, I know I was a dick in high school. And I’m genuinely sorry if I was a dick to you. But that was four years ago. I’ve grown up, and I’m here to be a good friend. Can you let me do that?”

The person blinks, and then looks a little sheepish. “Okay, yeah, that’s fair,” they say, before extending a hand. “And it’s Eddie. Eddie Munson.”

Steve smiles and shakes the offered hand. “Oh, yeah! You ran that club my kids went to- dungeons and dragons, right? Cool to see you again, dude!”

Eddie’s face does a complicated little wiggle before- “Uh, not a dude, man.”

“Wait, what?”

“I’m a girl, now. Still Eddie, though, it’s just short for Edith now. Have you heard of transsexuals?”

Steve shakes his head. “I’m pretty new to this. I know, like. Five words.”

“Well, easiest way to put it is that I was born a guy, but I feel more like a girl, so now I’m, like, switching.”

“Switching…” Steve says, trying his best to look genuinely interested and confused. He generally doesn’t struggle too hard to look confused, but he’s a little worried Eddie will think he’s being a dick about it. “You can do that?”

Eddie snorts, gesturing down to herself. “Clearly.”

“Huh,” Steve says. Frankly, this is blowing his mind. “Why doesn’t everyone do that, then? Like, no one likes being a guy.”

“Ye- wait, what?”

“Like, the sexism of being a girl would suck, obviously. But everything else sounds great! Like, you get prettier clothes and you can wear makeup- and girls are so nice to other girls, I've always been kind of jealous of that.”

Eddie looks shocked, but Steve's on a roll now, almost forgetting she's there as he continues thinking aloud. “And like. Girls’ bodies are just. Better, y'know? Like what do guys have, muscles? Girls can have muscles too, but girls are just so… like, everyone wants boobs, right?”

Eddie has a strange look on her face. “I mean, I do. Because I’m transsexual.”

“When you’re transsexual, do you get boobs? Like, do you- wait, is that rude? I feel like I wouldn’t ask another girl about her boobs.”

Eddie’s silent for a moment, looking at Steve in bewilderment, before she seems to collect herself. She takes a swig of her beer and then smiles at him. It looks both welcoming and like she’s in on a secret, and puts Steve at ease. He can see why the kids were so obsessed with her in high school.

“You know what, ordinarily it would be kind of rude, but I have a feeling this conversation is… not what I thought it was gonna be,” she says, and Steve tilts his head a bit in confusion. “So yeah, I do have boobs. You can take estrogen as a little pill, and it basically does puberty for you again. You get boobs, a little extra fat on your hips and thighs, and your skin gets softer. Here, feel.”

And then Eddie takes Steve’s hand and slides it up her shirt. His brain immediately turns off. And yeah, there’s definitely a gentle swell there. They’re small, but Steve can feel the squish of them. Her nipples are pierced. Steve thinks he might die.

“Wow,” he squeaks, about five embarrassing octaves higher than his normal tone. “Cool!”

Eddie grins as she removes his hand from her tit. “Yeah, cool. I’d let you fondle them a little more, sweetheart, but they’re still growing. Kind of sore.”

Steve blushes, rubbing his hand on his thigh and desperately trying to will his boner down. “Man, I wish I could grow boobs,” he sighs, a little wistfully.

“You can, y’know,” Eddie says, with a little chuckle and a soft smile. “What’s stopping you?”

That. Steve hasn’t considered that. A hundred things come to his lips- he’s not like that, he’s not one of those- a hundred things that he knows are absolutely terrible reasons. If Robin were here she’d either be whacking him upside the head or giving him that really sad look she does whenever he’s mean to himself.

“Hey,” Eddie says, speaking softly and laying a gentle hand on Steve’s knee. It shocks him out of his spiral as he looks up into her big brown eyes. “Y’know, I’ve got some makeup in my van. If you wanted to try some things out. No one here will judge you.”

“I- yeah,” Steve is breathless. “I’d like that. Uh- my friend-”

“Oh, is she real? I’ll be honest, I kinda thought you were doing the ‘oh I’m not gay I’m just here for a friend’ thing.”

Laughing, Steve looks out over the crowd. “No, she’s real. Let me just let her know I’ll be gone for a moment- honestly she’s probably halfway to third base with some girl anyway-”

And sure enough, Robin is more than ready to let Steve wander off once he peels her off a pretty girl on the opposite side of the club. He rejoins Eddie, who leads him down the street towards her van and helps him into the back. She takes out her makeup bag, cracking jokes about their wildly different styles while she delicately brushes powder over his face. She generously refrains from threatening to take his eye out with the eyeliner pencil (more than once at least), and apologises for not having anything more ‘babygirl’ than her bright red lipstick. Steve can definitely say this is the most fun he’s ever had in the back of a van.

Finally, masterpiece done, Eddie rummages in her bag for a little compact, presenting it to Steve with a dumb little bow. Steve takes it with a roll of his eyes, and prepares himself with a deep breath.

The person in the mirror is beautiful. Glowing skin, huge doe eyes lined with smokey eyeliner and lashes a mile long, practically sinful lips. Steve almost doesn’t recognise himself, except that he does. He really, really does, in a way he now realises he never really has before. It’s the first time he’s ever looked at his face in the mirror and not wanted to change anything.

“You’re a really pretty girl, Stevie,” Eddie says with a gentle smile.

Steve can’t look away from the mirror. “Yeah,” she says, a red-lipped grin stretching across her face. “I really am.”

[loserharrington]

i’d like to preface this by saying i am not an expert on religion (or non-religion) this is simply information i’ve learned over the years of research and talking to those who do practice satanism. if i’ve got anything wrong feel free to correct me

with that being said, i’ve always had this idea that The Munson Doctrine followed the rules of the church of satan. be it the 9 satanic statements or the eleven satanic rules

eddie has a laveyan cross patch on his vest so he must practice satanism to some extent. Especially since it’s a pretty large patch in an obvious place.

it’s sort of complicated because it’s not really a religion but it’s still a practice. (one of personal freedom and rationalism.) it’s basically things he lives by to better himself and the way he interacts with others. the “rules” don’t need the approval of any deity because satanism rejects the idea of all gods. (it goes hand in hand with atheism) it simply encourages individuality, skepticism and living your life the way you want to no matter how “sinful” it may seem to others.

i think it’s safe to say eddie resonates with this. he’s seen blatantly rejecting and criticizing societal norms and questioning why he and his friends are seen as freaks and targeted because of their interests

now here’s where i start inferring things about how he practices

i’m sure he’s added to these rules (hence the name Munson Doctrine instead of a direct reference to the rules of the church of satan) but i think it still loosely follows those rules. eddie just seems like the sort of person who’d take something like this and make it his own, which is essentially what satanism is. (again, it’s not a religion so it doesn’t require specific rituals to be done)

or, he misunderstood or interpreted some of the rules given to him differently than others might’ve, which lead to the quote that started this whole rabbit hole i’ve fallen down.

Quote: “I just couldn’t accept the fact that Steve Harrington was actually a good dude. … No way man, NO WAY, that like, flies in the face of the laws of the universe, and my own personal Munson Doctrine.”

i’m leaning toward the idea that he added his own rules and beliefs to the list because satanism encourages freedom and self expression, so he can essentially do whatever he’d like with his practice as long as he’s not infringing on the rights of others. (again, this would explain the name Munson Doctrine)

he might have added things (such as bullies/bystanders never changing. i.e: steve harrington now being a good dude when, in eddie’s eyes, he wasn’t before) because of his own experiences with people like that. [read here for more on that]

regardless of what he might’ve added or why, i do think that the Munson Doctrine is something he actively lives by. (ignoring the fact it could have just been a joke he threw in there to express his shock on how much his perception of steve had changed)

now here’s the fun part. my head canon i built off of this head canon.

i like to think that eddie didn’t come up with the munson doctrine on his own. his mother might’ve been a big influence in why he practices laveyan satanism.

now here’s why i think that:

1. it’s obvious eddie has some sort of ill feelings about his father, going as far as to say he told himself he didn’t want to “wind up like he did”.

this could just be him referencing the fact his father has been incarcerated for various crimes or it could be him referring to his character as a whole including his religion

this ties into fact that we see Wayne (who we assume is Eddie’s father’s brother due to their last names) is actively religious — at least enough to have religious decor around the trailer so it’s safe to say the munson brothers grew up religious

2. we know absolutely nothing about eddie’s mother which means i can make it all up !

eddie referring to his personal beliefs as his “Munson Doctrine” could imply that he’s not the only munson who follows these rules. he does say it’s his “personal” doctrine so i will choose to believe that is in reference to the new things he’s added as he’s grown up and experienced more things in his life

but before then, his mother could have instilled rules into him that he still follows to this day. rules such as these:

i just love the idea that eddie still has some connection to his mother and this is just one of the ways he honors her, but the idea of eddie finding comfort in satanism later in his life due to feeling alienated by the people of Hawkins because he’s different is just as good

in conclusion:

i choose to believe the munson doctrine wasn’t just a silly throw away line, and it ties into the religion he seems to practice

[munsonsreputation]

congrats on 500! can I get 🧣? I’m feeling eddie and sweet nothing 🥹

hi jillian!!!! i think sweet nothing is one of the most underrated songs on midnights!!! i think it's so sweet and sappy and just a bunch of love!!! i absolutely loved writing this (eddie is such a soft boi) and i hope i did it justice!!! if you want to check out the sweet nothing fic i did for steve then you can find it here &lt;3

again, thank you so much for you request and your support...it means the world to me!!!! 💘💫🧸

Love.

A simply complicated four letter word.

Something that holds so much weight with its spoken message.

Eddie Munson always thought he wasn’t destined for love, at least romantically. He was always flawed in some way or the other, or at least that was just how it seemed.

In hindsight, he always thought it was some sort of blessing that he didn’t have any romantic partners. He didn’t have to worry about lavish dates. Impressing someone’s parents. Worry about someone else’s safety other than his own. Buying expensive gifts for stupid anniversaries. Get mad at someone for stealing all the blankets.

All of those ridiculous things that people had to put up with—something that he couldn’t imagine himself going through, but that was until he met you.

Weirdly enough, the second he met you, it felt like all of the stars in the universe aligned in some magical and creepy way. He knew that there was no one in the world that he wanted to do all that relationship shit with except with you.

And so now, even three years later, it still seems so surreal to him to walk up the front porch steps of your shared apartment, unlocking it and seeing you dancing in the middle of the kitchen as he watched in the doorway.

You were always dressed in the comfiest clothing—his to be exact. An oversized and faded Metallica tee paired with his boxers that you rolled up to fit snug over your hips. Your hair was either always clipped back or pulled into a messy bun and most times you wouldn’t even hear him come through the door because the music was so loud.

Every day at seven-thirty p.m. this would be his scene back at home. His favorite of all time. The one he would never get tired of coming home to. Even when he was covered in grease and sweat after a long day of work, all of that exhaustion just seemed to seep out of him the moment he saw you.

He smiled, chucking to himself as he watched you bring the end of the wooden spoon closer to your lips, belting out the lyrics to the Madonna song that ringing out through his record player in the center of the living room.

“Hey popstar!” He whistled, locking the front door as he undid the laces of his work-boots.

You jumped, startled at first, something you always did no matter if you knew it was Eddie, “You could at least knock, Eds!” you joked, putting down the spoon onto a plate and turning down the heat of the stove before skipping over to him.

“It’s our place baby, I’m sure I don’t need to knock.” He laughed, making you roll your eyes as you embraced him the moment he got his shoes off and placed them on the little rack near the front door.

He groaned, pushing his brows together while he wiggled in your hold. “m’all sweaty and dirty, babe.”

You shrugged, refusing to let go as held him tighter, “I don’t care. I missed you all day.”

He missed you more.

Not waiting another second, he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you in close as he could feel the warmth of your bodies tangling together after a long day apart. “I missed you too.”

“Not so bad, right?” You couldn’t help but smile up at him with your doey eyes, getting your way once again, but Eddie loved it like that.

His eyes crinkled at the corners as he grinned, nodding his head before lowering his head to meet your lips with a soft kiss, “The best. But now you’re gonna be all greasy.”

He scrunched his face, looking down to see the deep oil stains in his overalls, hoping they didn’t get onto you.

“S’ok, we can just shower after dinner.” You ran your fingers over his sides, up and down in comforting motions.

Eddie raised an eyebrow. “You’re the one always running up the water bill with your long ass showers,” he quipped.

You snorted, swatting him playfully on the arm. “How about tonight we kill two birds with one stone and shower together,” you suggested, grinning mischievously, “Save some money and the planet.”

His eyes widened only for a second before a sly grin came over his features. “I might need to hug you after work every day if this is gonna keep happening.”

You both laughed before Eddie leaned in to give you another kiss. You melted into him, feeling grateful that this is the man that came home to you every day.

“Come on chef, I think our dinner might be burning.” He wrapped his arms around your body, trapping you in his cages, while walked the both of you into the kitchen.

Thankfully, it wasn’t burning, just coming to a little simmer with a bit too much steam. He rested his chin on your shoulder, watching as you stirred the pasta and the sauce together.

“You know, you’re pretty cute when you dance while cooking.” Eddie announced, a playful grin on his face that you could feel in his voice.

“Oh, stop it,” you replied, but the smile on your face betrayed your attempt at seriousness.

You cut the heat, removing the pan from the burner and placing it off the side while you reached up slightly to grab two plates for you and Eddie.

He kept his arms around you, only loosening them enough to let you move freely as you plated the meal. “I mean it,” he mumbled. “I love watching you move. It’s like everything just falls into place when you’re in the kitchen.”

You leaned back into his embrace, feeling sappy and loved. “You know,” you said, “I never thought I’d find someone who appreciates my cooking and my dancing in the kitchen.”

Eddie chuckled, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Well, you found him,” he said. “And you’re also a killer singer… you should ask Madonna to take you with her on tour!”

You laughed, placing down the plates, as you finally turned around and faced him once more, “I think I’ll stick to staying here with you.”

“Well, I feel lucky to be your only audience then,” he said, smiling at you, sharing the third of many kisses tonight.

Eddie took the plates from you and set them on the table, while you quickly turned down the music so that you and Eddie could talk about each of your days over dinner.

“So, how was work today?” you asked, taking a bite of your food.

Eddie sighed, pushing his food around with his fork, “It was a long day, bunch of bullshit at work that’s throwing the whole team off.”

“What kinds of bullshit?”

He grunted, finally telling you all the details about the stupidity going on at the goddamn auto-shop of all places.

“One of the guys are hogging customers and it’s throwing all of us under the bus. We had a meeting today, so I’m crossing my fingers that whatever bullshit he’s pulling is done and we can all just focus on getting our money.”

You were great at listening to him. Hearing him out and trying to access the situation and give him the best advice you could. A trait that Eddie was more than grateful for, someone who not only validated his feelings but wanted to find ways to make him feel better.

When everyone on the outside was up to some crap, he knew he could come to you, the person who was his home and find the comfort that he needed. That everything was going to be ok as long as you were around.

You reached out and took his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I’m sorry that’s happening, baby,” you said sincerely. “But I’m sure everything will get figured out and if not, then your boss should fire him. You and the rest of the workers deserve better than to put up with that crap.”

Eddie’s tense hand relaxed under your hold as you spoke. “Thanks for that sweets,” he said, his voice filled with gratitude. “You’re my rock, y’know that?”

Your heart swelled with joy and pride because he was all you ever wanted. You didn’t care about what people thought about him and the way he was viewed by everyone else. The only thing that mattered to you was that he had a good heart and an even kinder one when it came to you.

“You’re my rock too.” You whispered, patting the top of his hands before he turned yours over and intertwined your fingers together.

It was moments like these that made the two of you appreciate each other a little more. To know that you two had each other no matter. That sure, even if the outside world was filled with the cruelest and harshest of circumstances and people, that you two would always be able to fall back into each other.

“I love you.” He smiled, watching as you got out of your chair and walked over to him.

His arms already held out as you sat in his lap and cuddled into his embrace, “I love you more.”

This was everything.

Your silly banter.

Your teasing smiles.

Your warm hugs.

Your soft kisses.

You and him.

All the sweet nothings that life could offer the two of you.

This was true love.

I hope you liked this jillian!!! from one swiftie to another, I LOVE YOU!!!

reblogs, comments, and likes are greatly appreciated!!!

(comment if you would like to be added!) taglist: @translatemunson @kennedy-brooke @manda-panda-monium @tvserie-s-world @givemeth @steveharringtonswife @fckthtgetmoney @loving-and-dreaming

[afewproblems]

Season 2 Halloween Party AU Part Two

You can read part one here!

***

Eddie can't help but steal glances at his passenger as he starts the engine while Steve buckles himself in. 

A streetlight flickers overhead bathing the front seat in strobing gold light; it's so distracting Eddie nearly misses the way Steve's hands tighten around the seatbelt, a slight tremor running through them.

The other man looks exhausted but incredibly on edge, his back straight and shoulders stiff. Eddie has to stop himself from rolling his eyes as Steve scans the dark street ahead of them. 

If he's so embarrassed to be seen with the town freak, he can just get out and walk home.

Eddie almost says as much, but shakes the words off and flicks the small Snoopy bobblehead on the dash, before reaching for the edge of the passenger seat.

He feels Steve flinch at the sudden movement as Eddie braces himself on the seat to look out the rearview window. 

Eddie tamps down the flicker of irritation that burns in his chest, he hadnt taken Harrington for a Bible thumping asshole that would believe the rumours circling Eddie, but then again, Eddie didn't really know Steve. 

Eddie backs out of the space slowly, no need to wreck the paint even more by hitting some suburban moms stationwagon after all. He shifts into drive and pulls away from the street and the flashing lights of Tina's party behind them.

Steve is quiet as they drive, and as the sound of the dull throbbing bass and party goers begins to fade into the background, Steve slowly begins to curls inwards, tugging his arms around himself.

Eddie's eyes flick between Steve and the road, he's still not looking at Eddie, just out the window with a blank expression. It's the most quiet he's ever seen King-Steve, it's unsettling.

But, the more Eddie thinks about it, that really isn't true.

King-Steve hasn't been King of anything for awhile now, Tommy Hagan has seen to that. 

Steve has been keeping to himself more and more, preferring to hang out with Wheeler and,  surprisingly, Byers of all people. 

Eddie isn't sure he'd ever be able to comfortably sit at a cafeteria table with someone who cleaned his clock, but Steve makes it look easy.

Eddie sneaks another glance and startles to find that Steve is already looking at him. He's chewing his lip, his eyebrows pinched and Eddie can't help but feel as though he's being evaluated somehow.

Great.

"Actually, you know what," Steve says after they've turned down yet another subdivision, just one street shy before the main road, "you can just drop me off up here, my house is close".

"You sure?" Eddie asks, ignoring the frustration that rises in his chest once more, "I can drive you the rest of the way, it's not like we don't all know where the King's Domaine is".

Eddie watches as Steve's expression turns stony for the barest of moments before it shutters.

"Okay". 

Eddie nods with a grimace. He isn't even sure what he wanted to happen tonight, but it wasn’t this. 

Eddie makes a left and another right before pulling into the long drive of the Harrington house.

It used to make him scoff whenever he dealt here. The huge house, the lavish furnishings and fixtures. For fucks sake, the master bath had two sinks and the closet was almost as big as his own bedroom. 

But now as the engine dies and a strange silence falls on the pair, Eddie can't help but notice just how dark the house is. 

"Your parents here?" Eddie says, craning his neck to see the upstairs windows, he doesn't even notice Steve has unclicked himself from the passenger seat until the door is open and he's halfway out of the van. 

"Woah--"

"Thanks for the ride," Steve calls over his shoulder, "see you around Munson".

Eddie barely has time to open his mouth in protest before Steve is unlocking his door and slamming it behind him, leaving Eddie in the van alone. 

He sits for a second before sighing and turning the key once more, coaxing the engine back to life. Eddie turns again, bracing his hand on the passenger seat, debating if he should head back to the party, before he spots something on the floor shining in the glow of the streetlights.

A pair of large black sunglasses, and there's no doubt who they belong to.

"Well shit," Eddie hums thoughtfully as he bends forward to grab the glasses from the floor, "guess I'll be seeing you sooner than we thought".

***

The first bell rings as Eddie closes his locker, he looks out across the sea of teenagers making their way to homeroom before the second bell and smirks. 

Eddie should also be hurrying, considering how far his locker is from his first period class, but there's something about the way the teachers glare as he saunters in late that just fuels him.

Eddie smirks as he swings his backpack over his shoulder, the metal lunchbox inside clangs against something and Eddie winces at the sound. Shit.

He moves the pack off his shoulder and unzips the top, reaching inside to grab the sunglasses from where they've become trapped beneath his lunchbox. 

They aren't broken thankfully, Eddie's sure that Harrington wouldn't appreciate his gesture nearly as much if they came back cracked or bent. 

The thought makes Eddie stop for just a moment before he opens his locker again to place the sunglasses on the top shelf. Why is he even doing this? It's not as though King-Steve would appreciate this, he probably doesn't even know the glasses are missing. 

What does Eddie care about some asshole jock? 

An image of Steve with his head in his hands, his hazel eyes wet and wide as he looks up at Eddie has him slamming his locker shut, mortified by the unbidden thought. 

It's a complete betrayal of his own God damned doctrine, and worse, Steve is straight. All Eddie is doing is hurting himself in the long run with all his pointless pining.

Especially over someone that didn't want to be seen getting into his van last night. 

Eddie leans his head onto his locker and knocks it harshly against the metal, stupid.

The second bell rings and the last of the stragglers leave him alone in the hallway. Eddie taps his fingers on the locker and pushes himself away as he makes his way to the main door, throwing his backpack over his shoulder once more. 

He needs a smoke, and definitely doesn't need Mrs. McBrayden telling him off for not handing in yet another essay today. 

Whatever, it isn't as though Eddie hasn't read Macbeth, he knows that stupid play backwards and forwards --the witches speech is absolutely full of kickass creepy language and was perfect for this one campaign he ran a few years ago. 

Eddie could tell you all the major themes and conflicts no problem, it was writing it in such a way that his teacher would believe he actually wrote it that was the issue.

The last time Eddie actually tried on one of his assignments, he had been immediately accused of plagiarizing someone else's work. 

So, why bother. 

Eddie's already got a cigarette between his lips as he pushes the door open and makes his way to his favorite picnic table by the treeline when he hears a familiar voice behind the gym.

"Tell me--"

"Tell you what?" another voice scoffs, a woman's this time.

Eddie pokes his head tentatively around the corner, spotting the man he had driven home just the night before and his girlfriend alone, clearly fighting.

"Tell me," Steve says firmly, even as his voice waivers, "you love me".

Wheeler stands there, her arms wrapped tightly around her books, "really?"

The word comes out, wrapped in a smile, like it's a joke. 

Steve doesn't move, he doesn't laugh, he doesn't make a sound. 

Nancy's mouth opens and closes as her blue eyes search Steve's face for a long time. She tries for a laugh again, but her smile cracks as Steve continues to stand there expectantly.

Eddie can't see Steve's face from where he's standing but he does hear the low curse he lets out eventually before turning abruptly, swinging a towel over his shoulder as he jogs back to the field to join the rest of the class.

Well shit.

Eddie watches Nancy as she remains rooted to the spot, her face tipped down to the gravel. She breathes out a long sigh and raises one hand to brush through her hair before it drops heavily at her side. 

Eddie can't help but feel a twinge of sympathy as he slowly turns away, shaking his head as he continues to the picnic table. 

He lights the cigarette as he takes a seat facing the school, letting the edge of the table dig into his back. He pulls a long drag from the cigarette and breathes out, watching as the smoke billows away in the cool November air.

If it wasn't officially over last night, it definitely was now. The priss and the jock were no more, and knowing Hawkins?

It would be all over the school by lunch.

Part Three up!

Tag List: @eriquin @luvinthefreaks @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @goodolefashionedloverboi @ellietheasexylibrarian @bambibiest @sadboislovebeans @howincrediblysapphicofyou @coleys-a-nerd @whycantiuseunderscore @airconditioning123

and for some peeps that I think may be interested! @strangersteddierthings @steddierthings @steddie-there @steves-strapcollection @outpastthebrakers @henderdads

[duck-in-a-thrift-store]

Room/character closeup #2 (going in order from most to least popular based on the poll)

~Eddie & Steve's room~

Edit bc I accidentally posted this before I meant to: spoilers ahead for my full house au, as can be expected

Did you notice the pattern on the rug bc it's important to me that you notice the pattern on the rug I spent a good bit of time searching for this one specific rug guys I'm serious about this. Is it incredibly dark humor? Yes. But it is humor nonetheless

Anyway

One of my first priorities/things I took into consideration when working on this room was that I didn't want it to be too bright or have any sort of potentially eyestrain-y patterns. Steve has suffered repeated head trauma and I wanted his room to be a safe space where he doesn't have to worry about triggering a migraine or fucking with his vision or getting dizzy just from his surroundings. Hence why they have a darker, more subdued palette than most of the other rooms (which I guess you don't know yet since this is only the second one I've shown you but just trust me on this)

Beyond that, I admittedly had a pretty difficult time trying to figure out what I could do that I felt like both Steve and Eddie would vibe with decor-wise while still being a cohesive theme

Didn't want it to lean too far either way into metalhead freak or preppy golden boy territory, and besides I do think Steve's whole aesthetic isn't entirely his own and is at least partly influenced by the expectations placed on him, so I tried to go for a fairly neutral sort of vibe here

For some reason I settled on some blue jean lookin ass wallpaper, a rug patterned with the our-dimension-version of the critters that very nearly took their lives, and a few choice items to put on the walls

First off, the ship painting

This was sort of an unexpected last minute addition, partially bc I thought it looked nice with the rest of the room and partially as a character reflection

I wholeheartedly believe that Eddie Munson would fucking love anything pirate related, he probably was a pirate for Halloween at least once growing up, and he just thinks sailing ships are super cool. Plus the painting just felt like it would appeal to a fantasy nerd lol (it reminded me of the chronicles of Narnia actually but that's not really important)

And as for Steve, at least in this au but I know I'm not the only one who thinks so, he really likes water. Being in it, on it, around it- he likes swimming (refer back to his noted complicated feelings about the pool from my basement post), he likes the beach, he likes the ocean, and he likes sailing. He hasn't been many times but I'd totally buy the Harringtons having been on a yacht or some shit at one point or another. This character note may or may not be related to both his job at scoops ahoy* and him being on the swim team in high school, which is one of those things that at this point I honestly don't know if it was at all canon or if it's just one of those headcanons that become so popular in fandom that it feels that way, and at this point I can't be bothered to fact check it

*I think either he had a prior interest in sailing-related stuff and that was part of what initially drew him to that job specifically, or that working there sparked an interest which only grew with time, like maybe some of the silly slogans and terms used in ice cream flavors and maybe even the uniform stirred his curiosity/memories of going out on the water with his folks during the summers before they decided he was old enough to be left home alone for weeks at a time, and he started looking into actual sailing and found out he really liked it. (He can't stand the uniforms now though bc they trigger traumatic flashbacks, for both him and Robin)

Next, the bass/electric guitar on the wall, which I feel is pretty self explanatory honestly. It's Eddie's (although he does offer to teach Steve how to play- haven't decided yet whether Steve takes him up on that)

And then there's the horses (photo? painting?)

This is where the whole "horse girl eddie munson" thing came from; the whole idea was initially born of me trying to decide what I could put on their wall, liking this poster and asking myself if Steve and Eddie struck me as people who were into horses. As it turns out the answer was "hell yeah" and it spiraled into an entire fic idea of its own, which can be found here. As for this au, the background of them both having a "horse girl" phase/being into the idea of cowboys is still a thing, but obviously it doesn't progress the same way as that did (steddie cowboys my beloved but these particular multiverse variants are stuck playing house with their traumatized found family and slowly realizing that they actually enjoy co-parenting >:3 and this way everyone gets to stay together)

Also, speaking of the steddie cowboys thing this inspired, Eddie is trans in the full house au but Steve is a cis man (unlike in the other au). However Steve does have some gender moments here and there, like the kids "jokingly" calling him mom and him lowkey vibing with it (oh no I'm already doubting my ability to stick to the Steve being cis plan- bigender Steve agenda where did you come from??)

But yeah basically both of them are secretly horse nerds lol and that's something they discover while they're arguing over how to decorate (aka when they agree on this poster) and end up bonding over

And now for a note about their placement in the house (specifically who they share a floor with)

I've already explained that/why I wanted them on the same floor as Dustin Lucas & Erica, although I don't think I mentioned that Lucas and Steve are really close in this au* and it goes without saying that Dustin is super close with both of them

*it just feels right to me; also Steve was the only one of his friends to come watch his basketball game and Steve did chew Eddie out about that whole situation at some point but by now everyone is pretty much on good terms

Sometimes when any of the kids- but especially any of those three- have bad nightmares or can't sleep, they bunker down in Eddie & Steve's room,* the door of which is always open (metaphorically that is, but once they start dating... well let's just say the kids better knock or they're going to have yet another reason to be scarred for life lmao)

*some may think they're too old for stuff like this but I say- fuck that. A major theme of this au is acknowledgement of how these guys have had a large portion of their childhood stolen from them and the people around them are working to help them get it back, to let them just be kids and to make them feel safer than they have in a long time, so they're allowed to be "childish" and that's going to play a part in many of the events and details of this au. The same goes for the older guys too btw; like with this example specifically if Robin or Steve is the one waking up from a nightmare they find the other and both crash on the couch together for the night. You're never too old to seek comfort from your loved ones

[chelseeebe]

do you think i have forgotten (about you)

a part two to come pick me up.

summary: eddie finds himself out of jail and right back on your doorstep. running from his past while trying desperately to fix the mess he had left you in only leads to complicated situations.

a/n: so this is actually not what i had expected to post lmfao but similar to part one i reread this in my drafts and literally fell in love.. like it needed to be posted.

18+. smut, smoking, drug and alcohol use. mentions of jail and creepy therapists. angst.. sweet sweet angst. as before, this is stevexreader however this part is way more about eddie and r.

you can’t lie. the last few months had been pretty tough, on both you and steve. through no fault of his own though.

you were just.. unwell. perhaps you always had been and the process of seeing someone you regarded as your best friend beat the shit out of someone and subsequently be jailed for it had brought all those feelings up.

‎♡‧₊˚

not to mention the emotional toll of him dipping in and out of your life and the countless other reckless shit he’d pulled you into before.

currently things were stable, yours and steve’s relationship was good, you were going to work and succeeding in being mostly sober. a little help from a short stay in a psychiatric ward and some nice new pills had you feeling semi-okay again.

it had started not long after eddie was sentenced, you’d sat in the docks of the courtroom and watched the judge bang the gavel down as he was sentenced to twenty four months. it stung knowing that he’d gotten himself in this position because you’d dared to kiss your boyfriend in front of him.

nevertheless, a few short weeks after the horrid court date you’d suffered a complete breakdown at a party. throwing anything you could get your hands on, sobbing hysterically as steve tried his best to calm you. right in front of everybody, their gawping eyes prying as you were escorted out by the police who had then issued a caution and had recommended to the judge that you needed some sort of mental health intervention.

at the time it was humiliating. the worst part being that it felt like everyone around you was walking on eggshells, trying to coddle you and tell you that it was all okay. you’d known it wasn’t. maybe it could be, but for right then, no.

coming back into the apartment and the real world had been quite frankly, awful. missing the safety of the ward, you couldn’t hurt anyone in there.

steve had been your saviour through it all. making sure he was there for every visit with a great big smile on his. he was gentle, giving you your meds, making sure you were eating and he’d even found you a job, helping you apply, christ he’d even ran through a mock interview with you, putting on a deep voice and asking you silly questions.

and do you know what?

eventually things got back to some sense of normality. braving your first gathering, trembling as you walked through the door, terrified that everyone would hate you only to find that all anyone had really cared about was making sure you were well again.

and that lands us here, finally finishing a dragging shift and traipsing home to collapse into bed to wait for steve to get home.

except, nearing the front door you notice it’s cracked open slightly. the door handle looks busted and you’re ninety percent sure that either someone was currently in your apartment or had been in and ransacked it.

you push the door open with one finger, it freaks loudly as it opens slowly, startling the intruder who curses and drops whatever they were holding.

‘you have five seconds to get the fuck out,’ you warn, creeping from behind the door frame nervously.

there’s a figure stood in the middle of the room, back turned to you who very slowly puts his hands in the air, surrendering.

he turns to face you, a shit-eating grin on his face and you finally recognise the cocky face staring back at you.

‘eddie?!’

he breathes a sigh of relief, ‘holy shit i was startin’ to think you’d moved out and i’d just broken into some strangers apartment,’ cackling as his arms outstretch to hug you.

‘what the fuck- what are you doing here? you’re supposed to be in jail!’ in utter disbelief that he was stood before you, debating whether pinching yourself would wake you up from this strange dream.

‘i got out! duh,’ he grins, making his way towards you, arms still outstretched.

‘you.. you got out? what? you’re not supposed to be out for like another year.. i don’t- i’m not understanding,’ carefully wrapping your arms around his shoulders as he pulls you into a hug.

he felt stronger, sturdy as his arms wrap around your waist. the hug lasts for what feels like an eternity until you back to properly examine his face and to once again check that you weren’t hallucinating.

‘i can’t believe you’re actually here.. how are you? i’m sorry i’ve been.. busy,’ trying to recover over the last few months had meant that you’d sorta neglected eddie, his last letter still in the clutter on your desk somewhere.. unanswered.

unfortunately for him, you’d had a few more important things to focus on. like trying not to break down and keep your relationship with steve afloat.

‘i’m good, i’m always good.. what’ve you been up to? i missed your letters,’ it was a simple statement but you’d never truly comprehend just how much receiving anything from you had meant to him, how much it kept him going.

you let go of him fully, motioning for him to take a seat, ‘it’s a super long story..’ sighing as you jam the bursted door shut, steve would have to look at it on his day off.

‘well it’s a good thing i’ve got time,’ collapsing into the cushions, making himself right at home.

-

you and eddie are sat on the couch smoking when the key turns in the door and steve walks in, looking just as exhausted as he did when he left this morning. the tiny shadow of a smile that was on his face is dropped the second he see’s eddie, replaced with a state of pure confusion.

‘what the fuck?’ he exclaims, dropping his bag onto the floor as eddie clambers off of the sofa to greet him.

steve’s face is a picture, eyebrows knitted together as eddie’s hand claps his back, ‘you’re supposed to be in prison?’

eddie pulls back, holding onto steves shoulder’s, ‘and you’re supposed to be happy to see me,’ faux-offended by steve’s confused stature.

‘no.. i am, what? why are you out?’

eddie shrugs him off, coming back to the couch, ‘ehh it’s a long story.. come.. sit, how was work, big boy?’ taking the spliff from your outstretched hand to offer to steve.

steve plonks himself down next to you, placing your legs over his thighs instead of the couch, ‘yeah.. it was alright, i’m sorry- why the fuck are you in my living room and not in federal prison?’ taking the burning joint from eddie’s fingers.

‘i got out,’ eddie offers back, the exact same thing he’d said to you. you had come to the conclusion that his departure from jail had perhaps not been entirely legal but it was way easier to brush it off rather than trying to probe him.

steve narrows his eye’s, obviously also not buying his bullshit but decides instead to smoke whatever had been handed to him, humming as he exhales a thick cloud of smoke.

‘i said that he could stay here.. just for a few days, if that’s okay?’ you ask, looking up at your boyfriend with hopeful eyes.

he pauses, contemplating if harbouring a, presumed, escaped convict was really a great idea, ‘uhh.. yeah i’m sure a few days is fine..’ he didn’t sound so sure himself.

‘thanks man,’ eddie nods, eyeing the door to his old bedroom.

the thing is, when eddie was convicted, his uncle had come to collect most of his stuff, taking it back to hawkins in his van. you’d thought he’d be locked up for at least two years so sending his things back to hawkins was the smartest idea. that meant when you guys moved out, you weren’t left to deal with his mountains of crap.

you catch him looking, feeling a tad guilty that he’d come back to nothing, ‘the bed’s still in there but.. it’s mostly storage now,’ scrunching your nose as you grimace.

‘that’s alright.. anything’s better than prison,’ he jokes, offering a saddened chuckle.

‘yeah.. exactly,’ not that you had much idea what prison was like, but from what eddie had told you, your living room floor would be an improvement.

the three of you spend a few hours right there on the couch, listening to eddie’s tales from jail, entangled with your stories of all the thing he’d missed. steve nudges you at some point, muttering something about bed which you agree with, rushing around to find eddie a spare blanket.

‘you’ll be okay in here?’ you ask, poised in the doorway.

‘yeah it’s great.. thank you,’ he smiles, sitting down on the edge of his old bed, peering around the now mostly empty room.

it felt a little suffocating if he was honest, the sheer amount of memories these blank four walls held. he swore he could hear echoes of your laugh from the times before, remembering the nights where you’d stumble back here and subsequently pass out in a heap on his bed. he shakes his head slightly, ridding himself of the thought before it got too deep.

‘okay, well.. goodnight,’ flashing him a tight-lipped smile before closing the door and making your way to your own room.

steve is stood facing the window, already stripped out of his clothes, ready for bed. he spins when he hears the door click shut, walking over to where you stood undressing with a grin, hands finding their place on your waist.

you hum at the feeling of his palms on your skin, ‘what’re you doing?’ shimmying out of your horrendous grey work trousers.

his lips softly press against the back of your neck and maybe it’s the weed or maybe it’s spite but he can’t help himself, fingers coming down to mess with the waistband of your panties. placing your hand over his to stop him from going any further.

‘we can’t,’ you hush, acutely aware that eddie was just a few doors down and would most certainly hear.

‘we can.. you’ll just have to be quiet,’ murmuring against the back of your neck, your hand doing absolutely nothing to really try and stop him. ‘can you do that for me?’

he travels further down, past the flimsy waistband, feeling his smirk widen against your skin as you sigh softly, sliding your hand onto his forearm, using it for leverage while his middle finger begins to circle your already sensitive clit.

your sex life hadn’t been what it was in the beginning, both of you busy with work and mental health crises that it was now more of a rarity to find the time. it’s not really lost on you as to why steve is so eager for it tonight but you couldn’t help but to feel at least a little turned on by this sudden bout of possessiveness.

your eyes flutter closed as he adds another finger to the equation, letting your body lean back against his bare chest, ‘my god,’ you moan softly, leaving crescent moon shapes indented in his skin.

‘hmm? is that good, baby?’ his plump, pink lips pressing gentle kisses to you neck and shoulders, teeth grazing the agile skin. he’s unforgiving and really not trying to be quiet at all.

it was definitely spite.

you can feel his erect cock against your ass, unknowingly writhing around, brushing up against him. his fingers hastily leave the safety of your now sodden underwear, manoeuvring your body to face him.

‘you’re such an asshole,’ you hush, gripping onto his arms for balance, walked backwards towards the bed.

a menacing smirk plastered on his face as he falls on top of you, knowing full well that eddie could definitely hear your soft pants and the way your lips echoed his name. stevestevesteve.

his fingers are brushing the hair from your face, making sure you were looking at him. it’s disgusting how attractive you find this. steve wasn’t usually one for such outward jealousy but you couldn’t say you hated it. legs wrapping around his torso after he had slipped your underwear off.

you don’t even attempt to conceal the whimper that ripples through your throat when he slides into your cunt. gripping onto his shoulders as the bed begins to creak, headboard knocking into the dry wall, unapologetic with his movements.

completely unashamed.

-

you’re eternally grateful that eddie doesn’t mention anything the next morning though he avoids steve’s eye and keeps his head low until he leaves for work. breathing an almost undetected sigh of relief when the door clicks shut.

the pair of spend most of the day lounging on the couch in front of the television, watching the overdue videos steve had neglected to return. the darkness eventually creeps up on you. the moon shining through the windows.

‘c’mon.. let’s go out,’ eddie nudges your knee with his, a devilish grin plastered across his face. he’d been bored shitless all day, as much as he enjoyed the mundane with you.. he wanted to go out. feel that rush through his veins as you got into something you shouldn’t.

‘i shouldn’t.. i’ve been doing good lately, it’s.. i can’t,’ sinking further into the sofa. you wanted to go out, really. but you and eddie going out alone together was a recipe for disaster.

‘and that’s why you deserve a treat.. c’mon, i know you want to,’ egging you on, now poking your knee with his finger, his other hand gripping onto the warm beer can.

you ponder for a second, pursing your lips as you weigh up the pros and cons. you don’t have to get wasted.. you could go out with eddie and be back before steve got home from work. yeah. you could do that.

‘where?’

eddie’s smile widens, he’d anticipate a hell of a lot more nagging and pleading than this, ‘fucking.. anywhere, the night is young and so are we.’

‘okay.. but, we’re having a normal night.. nothing crazy and i wanna be back here before steve is, got it?’ raising your eyebrows as you down the last sliver of wine.

‘absolutely.. whatever you want,’ eddie chuckles, slapping his knees as he stands from the couch, ‘c’mon.. get dressed.’

you stare up at him for a moment before getting up from the couch and slinking into yours and steve’s room. he wouldn’t be happy about this but if you were home and in bed before he was, he wouldn’t have much to complain about and if he did, he’d get over it.

and hey, maybe you could prove to him that you were okay now. that you were ready and able to handle things on your own.

-

everyone goes absolutely crazy when eddie walks in, almost as if he’d been locked up for a year. there are a few unhappy murmurs, worried onlookers who had been there that night.

but he doesn’t seem to care, shaking hands and chatting to everyone that came up to him. people handing him cups of mystery liquor which eventually got passed onto you.

you’re perched next to him on the couch, drinking the vile tasting liquid without a second thought. the odd person still coming up to him in shock, asking all sorts about what life was like on the inside.

and he just laughs and tell them the same generic story about earning his way and how eventually people listened to him. you doubt much of it is actually true but let him continue nonetheless. what did you know about prison?

bedsides, you’d seen the scars that now littered his knuckles and forearms. how his muscles had grown and the way his nose now bent slightly to the left. he must’ve done something to earn them.

your head is pretty fuzzy the first time the plate full of mystery white powder is passed around. respectfully declining and mumbling about sticking to drink.

but by the second time it comes your way, you’re glancing down at the porcelain with eager eyes. one tiny line couldn’t hurt, right? you still had plenty of time to sober up and get home before steve.

so you pick up the rolled up note, eddie’s eyes watching like a hawk, ‘hey.. you sure?’ his own jaw clenching from his previous line.

‘it’s fine,’ you nod reassuringly, holding one nostril and sniffing the pre-cut line, sniffing harshly. you’d forgotten how much it stung, making your eyes water as you pass the plate onwards.

you sit back into the couch, watching as the conversation roars around you. waiting for that sweet, sweet feeling when it finally hit.

and oh boy, does it.

one second you’re sat on the couch and the next you’re pulling eddie up onto his feet, trying to make him dance along to the pounding music with you. it all sounded so good. your body warm and loose. heart pounding in your chest as the beat vibrates through your limbs.

you’re not sure how long you’re dancing for, keeping your eyes closed while other people start getting up to join you.

not even questioning the second line when it re-emerges. still slowly sipping on what was now a dark liquor, bitter in taste, burning your throat on the way down.

eddie’s hand gingerly touches your waist causing you to pull your eyes to him. he’s dancing too, clutching onto the beer bottle, pupils dilated as they cling to you. cling to your body. moving in time with his.

everything’s a little blurry but you keep your eyes steady on eddie, smiling as the music distorts in your ears. it sounded robotic and weird but still had you wiggling your hips in time with the odd beat.

his other hand meets your waist, more confidently this time, pulling your body towards his. you think nothing of it, focussed on moving in time to the music.

eddie’s hand moves up to cup your cheek, the party bleating on around you as he tips your chin up towards his. a soft smile on his face as your eyes meet his fully.

the next few seconds happen so quickly that you’re not even sure if it actually happened.

his lips crash against yours, pressing himself to your chest, hand clinging to your cheek. he’s desperate with it, hungry and insatiable.

the magic dust you’d just inhaled must have softened your inhibitions because you’re kissing him back. palm pressed against his chest, fingers curling into his t-shirt.

until you finally realise exactly what you’re doing.

pulling yourself away from him, stumbling backwards as you blink up at him. had you actually just kissed him? no, why the fuck had he kissed you?

‘what the fuck are you doing?’ you exclaim, mind still hazy under the influence of whatever narcotics they were passing around.

your stomach twists. steve was probably sat at home waiting for you to get back, worried sick about where you’d gone. all the while you’re kissing his best friend at a party he had no idea was happening. it makes your stomach twist, guilt coursing through your chest.

you back away from eddie, tripping over another party goers outstretched legs as you go. head pounding, hands tingling. everything surrounding you had become a massive blur of flashing lights and distorted faces.

‘fuck.. wait!’ eddie calls out from the living room but you’re already gone, pushing past the gaggle of people in the hallway as you fumble for the doorknob.

the cold air hitting you the second the door is open, you hadn’t brought a jacket. or had you? you can’t really remember.

there are people strewn across the front yard, watching as you stumble down the path, fumbling for your phone in you pocket. the letters all jumble into one as you click through searching for steve's contact. slamming the green button the second you recognise the slight curve of the s.

he answers on the first ring, ‘hello? where are you?’ you’d missed the tens of missed calls from his number.

‘i’m.. i don’t know,’ sobbing into the receiver as one of the onlookers from the party approaches you, ‘where are we?’

from what you can make out, it’s a young girl, she looks worried as she takes the phone from your hand and places it to her ear, telling steve whatever street you were on. her spare hand reaches out to rub your back, keeping you close to her body as steve fucking sprints from your apartment to the address.

eddie makes absolutely zero attempts to try and find you, assuming that you’d already run off home. fuck it, he was out now. might as well prolong the inevitable argument with steve for as long as possible.

when steve arrives, he’s practically frantic, taking you from the kind girl as he leads you off home. his arm keeping your body held upright as you wail the entire way home.

‘steve..’ you sniffle, being guided into the empty apartment, ‘we kissed- eddie kissed me.. i didn’t mean to, i promise,’ clinging onto his neck as you’re lead into your bedroom.

he’s weirdly silent, placing you gently onto the bed, taking off your shoes before sitting down on the edge of the mattress.

‘have you taken anything?’ he questions, choosing to ignore your confession, for his own sanity mostly.

you nod into the pillow, sprawled out on the mattress as the room spins around you. it’s dizzying, and not just the room spinning but the fact that steve was still so gentle even after your admission.

‘what? what d’you take?’

‘i don’t know.. coke i think.’

he nods, swallowing the growing fury in his throat, ‘i’ll get you some water, try and sleep yeah?’

he goes to get up but you’re already grabbing onto his forearm, keeping him firmly on the bed, ‘don’t go.. please,’ your voice hoarse from the party.

god, you thought. you sound utterly pitiful, ashamed that even after all he had done for you, you couldn’t hold your shit together on your own and were still relying on steve.

‘okay,’ he whispers, kicking his shoes off and swinging his legs over and onto the bed, sitting up on the pillows rather than joining you properly.

his arm snakes around your back, lifting your body ever so slightly to slide his arm under, pulling you onto his warm chest. stubbly chin coming to rest atop of your head.

you nestle your head into his cotton shirt, ‘i love you,’ head rising with every breath he took, closing your eyes and attempting to fall asleep despite the fact it felt like there was something stabbing into the side of your brain.

-

steve’s sat, deadpanned on the couch when eddie attempts to creep back in. startled by his presence in the darkened room. by this time, the birds had begun to chirp as the first rays of sunlight crept through the blinds.

‘shit man..’ eddie clutches his chest, ‘you scared me,’ he fumbles his way through the room, still pretty intoxicated, lips sore from chewing on them all night.

steve blinks, scrunching up his face as the other boy takes a seat next to him. eddie’s sure he knows. you had definitely told him. jesus christ, why wouldn’t you? he fucked up. again.

‘you can’t stay here anymore,’ steve states, stoic.

he wasn’t letting much on here. eddie almost wishes he’d just beat his ass and get it over with at least it’d be better than this creepy shit he had going on.

‘bro.. i’m sorry, i was fucked up.. i don’t know what the hell i was doing,’ he’s staring wide-eyed at steve who’s staring straight ahead, jaw tense, ‘shit, punch me if you want.. god knows i’d deserve it.’

‘i don’t care,’ steve presses his tongue to the back of his teeth, ‘you come back and you fuck everything up.. do you know how hard i’ve tried to help her.. all these meds and doctors appointments,’ steve’s shoulder’s slump, ‘fuck man, i even had to take her to this creepy ass therapist and try not to beat the shit out of him every time i dropped her off.. d’you know how hard that was?’ he sounds desperate now, dropping the weird, unsettling facade, turning to eddie with a genuine look of hurt upon his face.

eddie’s mouth opens to reply, but he has nothing to say. hasn’t a clue how to answer that because he didn’t know. yeah, you’d told him about it and how steve hadn’t left your side throughout it all but he had no idea that this was how steve had felt.

‘no,’ steve scoffs, ‘no you don’t know.. because you weren’t there,’ he sighs before continuing, ‘you didn’t have to watch the love of your life be dragged away because some judge had deemed her crazy. you weren’t there week in, week out in that hospital.. helpless.’

steve wouldn’t ever think of you as a burden but fuck, he needed to tell literally anyone the shit he had bottled up and eddie was now the (un)willing participant to catch the brunt of his frustration.

eddie swallows, staring out into the dark room, ‘i didn’t know.. i’m sorry,’ he’s scrambling now, trying to think of something, anything to say that could help, but he can’t. in steve’s eyes, he’s the one who continually seems to ruin shit for you. ruin you.

‘so no, i don’t want to hit you because you kissed my girlfriend but i do want to fucking kill you for coming in here and messing her up all over again,’ steve spits, his words like venom as they hit eddie square in the face.

any traces of intoxication had been pummelled from his body, head beginning to pound from the impending hangover, chest heavy under the weight of steve’s words.

his eyes squeeze shut. he was a fuck up and he knew it. he wasn’t sure why he’d even done it. you just looked so pretty and blissful and.. and you’d smiled at him the way you used to and he’d thought that maybe that had meant something. the few seconds that you’d kissed him back had felt like euphoria, for the first time in so long everything felt right again.

steve interrupts his train of self-pitying thought by standing from the couch, turning to walk away but pauses, ‘i’ll help you find somewhere tomorrow.. maybe nance n’ all will let you stay,’ and even through all of this steve couldn’t help but be kind to the man.

that’s what hit eddie the hardest, that even though he had hurt his best friend.. he was still stood in front of him throwing him a line and offering a sense of patience and understanding that eddie hadn’t felt in far too long.

he watches in silence as steve slinks off to your shared bedroom, head hanging low in utter shame. he’d never admit aloud, and especially not to steve, but the thought of you was the one thing getting him through his sentence.

the first few months were pretty rocky, having to prove himself time and time again, resulting in a multitude of different injuries but at the end of the day, he’d climb into his bunk and re-read the letters you’d sent. thumbing the pages until they were yellowed and worn. the mere thought of you still thinking about him was enough to make him get out of bed each morning.

he peers down at his scarred hands, tracing over the glistening white indentations. they all told their own individual story, the big one that ran across the large part of his hand was the worst after being slashed with a makeshift shiv during a fight. he was quite lucky really, his hand had taken the majority of the damage and had meant he wasn’t left to bleed out on the floor.

so he’d gotten stitches, kept his mouth shut and things had started to change. and yet still, every night he’d go to bed thinking of your face, telling himself that it wasn’t long to go.

you were his saving grace. the only thing that had stopped him slipping into darkness. he’d thought about it plenty, hurting himself or one of the douchebag inmates he shared the small space with. at least that way he’d get moved into solitary, maybe he’d even prove himself to the other guys.

-

you keep quiet when steve comes into your bedroom, unsure of whether to let him know you had practically heard their entire conversation. the mattress dips when he gets into bed, exhaling softly and making sure the blanket is covering both of you.

he sits in silence for a moment, you can feel his eyes burning into your face before he eventually settles in and lies back on the pillow.

‘are you mad at me?’ you squeak, gazing at him from tired eyes.

your voice startles him, so sure that you were still asleep but he answers quickly, ‘no, never,’ turning on his side to face you, inches from your face. it felt so intimate like this, vulnerable.

‘i heard what you said.. i’m sorry for..’ your bottom lip wobbles and you try hard to blink away the brimming tears, ‘for putting you through that.’

he’s immediately comforting you, placing a warm hand on your sodden cheek, ‘you’re okay.. it’s okay, you didn’t do anything,’ steve’s gut twisted, he hadn’t meant for you to hear any of it and the thought of you feeling guilty for eddie’s sake pricked at his heart.

you nod, not completely believing his words but for the sake of not causing a problem so early in the morning, deciding to just accept it. no matter how much it had been parroted to you, there was no accepting that none of this was your fault.

‘it’s just the way your brain is wired,’ dr. foster had said during one of your sessions, ‘but i’m here to make it all better,’ his eyes were narrowed, carefully watching you from his leather chair.

the memory alone makes you shudder, he’d been all for this authentic, organic approach.. hosting the sessions in his home and perhaps at times, becoming a little too familiar. his hand patting your knee as you spoke, asking creepy questions about your relationship with steve and overstepping a shit ton of boundaries. he had these icy blue eyes that lingered on yours for too long, there was something deeply unsettling about the way they narrowed when steve was mentioned. the utter anger they held when you brought up eddie. oh no, he really didn’t like eddie.

he’d been the one to suggest that you slow down with the letters to eddie, telling you that focusing on recovery was more important. it had worked in his favour anyway, the letters becoming the least of your concerns as you navigated recovery.

nonetheless, he didn’t last long. you were still in that mellow adjustment period, getting used to the meds when steve had informed you that dr. foster was no longer going to be your therapist. something about a conflict of schedules but you weren’t sure how true that really was.

-

it had been a few weeks since you’d last seen eddie, unsure of where he was or what trouble he’d gotten himself into. maybe even a minuscule part of you was hoping that he’d got himself arrested, at least that way you’d know he was safe inside and not wrecked in a ditch somewhere.

for the most part, you’d managed to put him to the back of your mind. it was only when things got quiet did you worry about him. deep down, you knew it was for the best. you couldn’t be around him without that niggling voice in the back of your head creeping back up. there was too much history there.

and steve had been so wonderful. you’re not sure you’d ever felt love like this. so transparent and pure, so void of expectations that he could see you at your worst and still be just as content to love you.

it all makes your heart ache, were you enough for steve even when you were like this? he had bore witness to the most horrific times of your life and yet, he’d be there everyday with a smile on his face and an open heart prepared for whatever that day may bring.

he’d taken the day off of work to purely spend it with you. granted, you’d only wanted to sit on the couch and watch a bunch of terrible movies with him but it was good enough. you’re not sure how long you’ve now been on this couch, but you knew it was late as the street lights glimmer that harsh orange through the blinds.

this film has you falling asleep, steve’s pick, obviously. you’d slid down the couch to rest your head on his lap, eyelids weighing heavy as sleep threatens to take over.

until you’re both startled by the incessant banging on the door, fist pummelling into the already brittle wood. your head snaps upward towards steve, pouting at the rude awakening. who on earth could find the need to pound the door at this time?

‘you expectin’ anyone?’ steve asks curiously, sliding your head from his thigh, very cautiously getting off of the couch to answer the door.

‘no? robin, maybe?’ unless robin had turned into a rabid zombie, you were sure it probably wasn’t her on the other side.

steve peers through the peep hole, seemingly taken aback but what or whoever he sees on the other side, ‘shit..’ cursing under his breath as he slides the chain from the door, opening it just slightly.

‘what?’ petrified by his reaction, sitting up on the couch to prepare for the impending insanity on the other side.

‘jesus man.. what are you doing here?’ he’s pushed aside as what looks like one eddie munson barges through the door, gasping for air and looking worse for wear.

he’s clutching his knees, doubled over as he tries to catch his breath, ‘i fucking.. ran the whole way here..’

if you’re being honest, he looks terrible. hair limp as it hangs around his face, clothes dirtied and you can’t see his face properly but you’re sure there’s a shiner of a bruise on his cheek.

‘what are you doing? what’s wrong?’ you fret, swinging your legs over the side of the couch as steve closes the door, bolting it up again in hopes that whatever eddie was running from was not following him.

he exhales before standing up straight, wiping the sweat from his forehead, ‘i need your help.. both of you,’ looking to steve who was stood with his hand on his hip, concerned about the inevitable mess eddie had just welcomed back into your lives.

‘why? where have you been?’

the last you’d heard from him, nancy had, very reluctantly, agreed to let him stay in their couch for a few days until he got himself sorted. but they’d woken up the next morning to find that he was no longer on said couch, not a trace of him left behind. he was completely unreachable, no phone, no idea where he had escaped off to and absolutely no one had seen or heard from him.

initially it had been a frenzy to try and find him until you collectively realised that he didn’t want to be found this time. and you had to mourn him all over again.

‘steve, d’you still know how to make fakes?’ completely ignoring your question, blinking at a puzzled steve.

your eyes flit to steve, unaware that he apparently had a history in counterfeit goods. perhaps a crucial bit of information he’d glossed over there.

‘not anymore.. what the fuck do you need that for?’

‘you know anyone that does? i’m desperate man.. i- i’ll pay,’ eddie pants, ‘name your price,’ chest heaving as he stands in the middle of your living room. he felt out of place here now, stuck out like a sore thumb.

steve ponders for a second, ‘uhh.. i dunno, maybe.. what’ve you done?’ sighing softly.

‘i need to leave the country.. i fucked up.. big time,’ eyes flitting to you with a certain sadness. even now, he didn’t want to disappoint you yet it seemed to be all he could do.

‘what’ve you done?’ you press, chewing on the inside of your cheek. mind running to the worst possibly conclusion. murder wasn’t out of the equation if you were honest.

eddie runs a dirtied, ringed hand over his face, ‘you know how i’m kinda s’posed to be in jail right now?’ it was already glaringly obvious that he hadn’t been released early.

‘yeah..’

‘well, i uh- i paid some guys off, they said they could get me out.. get me away from here,’ only now is he realising how fucking stupid that sounded.

‘eddie.. what?’ you exclaim, astonished by the sheer stupidity he constantly displayed. you’d thought that maybe he’d have learnt something from jail, that was the point of it, wasn’t it? learn from your mistakes and better yourself.

‘look, it doesn’t matter.. they’re asking for more money and i don’t have it,’ he says exasperated, ‘i need to disappear.. just for a little while, til they forget about it,’ eyes steady on you, as if to seek your approval.

you blink, where was he even planning to go? were you just never going to see him again?

‘i can’t get you outta the country but.. i might have a friend that can help,’ steve’s voice pipes up, tearing your eyes from eddie to look at him.

‘how?’ you exclaim, wondering what other things he had kept secret from you.

‘my friend’s out in california.. i think he’d put you up there,’ nodding at eddie, he probably didn’t deserve this kindness but steve couldn’t just leave him stranded. there was too much history to ever turn his back on his friend, even now, after everything, he was still holding his hand out for eddie.

‘that’d be.. fuck, that’d be.. good,’ eddie nods along, appreciative of anything you could do for him. turning to meet your gaze once more.

he knows this is it.

there wasn’t any coming back from this. no next time. it was california or it was death. and he sure as shit wasn’t a fan of the second option.

you think, deep down, that you know it too.

the likelihood of seeing him again is next to nothing. if he didn’t get himself killed, he’d certainly never be coming back here. this wasn’t for him, never had been really. well, maybe once upon a time when you looked at him without that sadness in your eye it had been.

when he thought back to it, he was sure the he knew you’d never loved him, he’d just been pretending for so long that his mind had played tricks on him, made him believe it. that’s why he’d lashed out that night, he’d convinced himself that you were in love with him. but you weren’t, and his heart had realised that fact quicker than his head had.

steve disappears into your bedroom in search of his phone, leaving you two alone in the living room. everything you want to say stays unsaid. heavy as it lingers between you. there’s not really much you can say in this moment that wouldn’t make things worse.

instead, you just nod.

as if to say that he could go. he could let you go.

eddie understands. but he’s not sure he ever will.

[berenwrites]

Beyond the Battle - Chapter 18 - Stranger Things - Steddie

Beyond the Battle­: Action & Consequence

Click here for All Posted Chapters

Summary: Steve hits things with a bat or gets hit depending on who you ask. He definitely does not have anything to do with the psychic stuff. That is El’s domain. However, as Vecna is defeated, the rules change.

Pairing: steddie (Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson)

Other Relationships: Steve & Robin, Steve & Dustin, Eddie & Dustin

Rating: Teen

A/N: Multi-chapter story, updated regularly. Honestly not sure how many chapters it will have yet because it's still a bit hand wavy in the middle, but definitely more than 12. Thank you to my beta for find my mistakes and to all those who read/like/reblog.💖 Follow #st:beyond-the-battle for updates.

Also on AO3

Chapter 18.    Making Plans

Wayne was coming over to visit Eddie again after lunch and, since Wayne was not in the know and it would be unwise for Eddie to be seen anywhere in Hawkins yet, it was agreed the party would meet at the Hopper/Byers house to talk strategy. Steve had promised to fill Eddie in on everything that happened once Wayne was safely off to work.

With that sorted, Steve was not expecting the phone to ring again.

“Hello, Harrington residence,” he answered, because he had been trained well.

At first all he heard was crackling.

“St … Steve,” he finally made out.

“Mom?” he replied, because he thought it was his mother, but the line was so bad he could barely make it out.

Whatever damage the almost-end-of-the-world had done to the phones was still being repaired. Local calls were almost perfect now, but the wider world was still not really happening.

“I can’t hear you,” he said, as slowly and clearly as he could, hoping that maybe his mother could hear better than he could. “The line is no good.”

“… okay?”

“We’re all fine here,” he guessed at the question, “and the house wasn’t touched.”

“… damage …. safe … evac…”

“I’m sorry, Mom,” he said, “I don’t know what you’re saying.”

The hissing and crackling was getting worse.

“Ste…”

The line cut off and a dial tone replaced it.

“Dammit,” he said.

He really didn’t want his parents worrying.

“Problem?” Eddie asked, coming down the stairs from where he had been taking a shower.

“That was my mom, but the line was so bad I could barely make anything out,” he revealed. “I just hope she could hear better than I could, because if they decide to come back, it will make things way more complicated.”

“They don’t know about the Upside Down then?” Eddie said.

“No, not a thing,” he said with a shake of his head. “Might be simpler if they did, but that ship sailed years ago and it would put them in danger, so … yeah.”

“It really is part of your core personality, isn’t it?” Eddie said, wandering over and taking his hand.

“Um, what?” he asked, because he didn’t follow.

“Keeping people safe,” Eddie said, leaning in and kissing him on the cheek.

He decided he really was blushing far too easily today as his face heated up.

~*~

Owens had pulled a house out of his little black book with literally no notice, so the Hopper/Byers residence was not a cabin in the woods. It was a decent sized house for the large, blended family. Steve pulled up outside it and was impressed, since it was the first time he had been there. He gave the place a good once over as he climbed out of the car, Dustin dashed from the backseat, and Robin all but fell out of the passenger side.

“You look like a realtor surveying a property,” Robin said, coming up beside him.

“Just getting a feel for the place,” he replied. “It’s nice.”

“Do you think the government could magic me a house too?” Robin asked with a laugh. “Then you wouldn’t have to sneak in my window when we have a sleepover.”

“Not sure even Owens would think that was a valid enough reason, Robs,” he said and linked his arm through hers. “And you’ve got to admit I’ve gotten better at it.”

“You couldn’t have been worse,” she shot back. “The first time you woke my dad and I had to pretend a bird flew into my window while you hid in the closet.”

“Kind of appropriate,” he said with a snort of a laugh.

“What? Oh yeah,” she agreed, also laughing.

Dustin had already been welcomed into the house by the time they made it to the door. What Steve really was not expecting was for Joyce to come straight up to him the moment he stepped inside and hug him. For a second, he froze, before eventually returning the hug in what he hoped wasn’t as awkward a manner as it felt.

“Thank you,” Joyce said quietly when she finally drew back.

“You’re welcome,” he said automatically even as the sincerity in her eyes made him want to duck away.

“Come on through,” she said, smiling at him and Robin, “everyone is in the den.”

At least that answered the question on whether Joyce knew about Hopper. As far as Steve knew, everyone else just thought they were here to talk about visiting Max in an orderly fashion.

As they walked in, the kids were already sprawled all over the furniture and the floor, along with Jonathan, Argyle and Nancy. There was one space left on the soft-looking couch next to Nancy, so Steve headed over to the corner out of the way and let Robin take the seat. Joyce walked over to where Hopper was standing off to one side.

“Okay, okay, enough,” Hopper called out, effectively stopping the loud conversation Mike and Dustin were having about something that Steve was pretty sure had nothing to do with why they were here.

“So, we’ve spoken some more with Max’s mom,” Joyce said into the relative quiet, “and only two people are allowed to visit at a time. Doctor’s orders. Max is still very weak after being in a coma for so long.”

“Then Lucas and El should go first,” Dustin said almost instantly.

Steve’s heart warmed at the kid’s definite tone. There was no selfishness in there, just Dustin’s knowledge of his friends.

“And under normal circumstances we would agree,” Joyce said with a nod. “We know Lucas was with her all the way up until the evacuation. But we think it should be El and Steve who go to see her first.”

Most of the eyes in the room swung round to look at him while Steve did his best not to react. El fixed him with one of her particularly contemplative stares.

“You think you can help her,” El said, and it wasn’t a question.

“I know I can,” he replied.

“How, Steve?” Dustin asked. “How can you be sure?”

“Because like a good scientist I’ve already run the experiment, just like you’re always telling me,” he replied.

“My dude,” Argyle said nodding, as if impressed.

“Who?” Nancy asked, as direct as always.

“Me,” Hopper said, and Steve found himself with a little breathing room as heads swivelled to look at the older man.

“You didn’t go to see Powell last night,” Jonathan said as the penny dropped.

“No, he didn’t,” Joyce said and there was just a note of pissed off in her voice that had Steve very glad she was clearly placing all the blame on Hopper.

“What was wrong with you?” Mike asked, voice holding an edge of challenge.

“Wheeler, do not ask questions you do not want the answers to,” Hopper replied. “Just accept what Steve healed in me is in the same ballpark as Max.”

“If Steve healed you by himself, why El and Steve, not me and Steve?” Lucas asked, and Steve couldn’t blame him.

If it had been Eddie or Robin in the hospital, he would have wanted to be in there first too.

“Because no one outside our group knows about Steve and me,” Will offered the obvious answer. “I guess we’re going to pretend El is the one helping Max.”

“That is the plan,” Joyce confirmed.

“I can do that,” El said with a nod. “It is better to keep Will and Steve a secret until we are sure there is no more danger.”

“Can you heal her all at once?” Lucas asked, turning back to Steve hopefully.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “The bone breaks, yes, that’s,” he searched for the right word, “natural healing. Her sight, maybe, it depends what exactly is wrong. I can fix it, but it might take more than one time.”

“Why?” came from Erica and she seemed genuinely interested rather than just trying to be difficult.

Sometimes it was hard to tell with Erica, but Steve was pretty good at reading her these days.

“There’s a point where I need to eat to refuel,” he replied.

“Like a car?” Dustin asked.

“Kind of,” he said as he thought of it, “but more like a generator recharging a battery. I’m beginning to get why El loves Eggos.”

“They are a good boost,” El confirmed with a smile.

“I prefer chocolate,” Will added.

“What happens if you don’t stop?” Dustin asked, ever the enquiring mind.

“We are not asking that,” Robin said pointedly. “We are making sure Steve listens to the little voice in his head and doesn’t do anything stupid like pushing it too far.”

“I didn’t mean he should do it,” Dustin protested. “I was just wondering if he knew what the consequences would be. That way we could prepare just in case he needed it.”

“He is right here,” Steve butted in, “and he doesn’t know.”

“Okay, jeez,” Dustin responded. “I was just asking.”

“I think we can agree finding out would not be sensible,” Joyce concluded for them.

“How long will it take?” Nancy asked.

Steve couldn’t do anything except shrug.

“It took me three days with Eddie, but there was the Upside Down involved and I don’t really remember how long each time took,” he admitted. “With Robin and Dustin, I wasn’t even aware I was doing anything, and with Hop it took somewhere around two and a quarter hours, but it’s not quite done.”

“So, you couldn’t just go back in once you’d eaten?” Jonathan asked, clearly intrigued.

“I could have,” he replied, “but I was too tired for it to be a good idea.”

“You were dead on your feet, Steve,” Hopper added.

“I know this,” El contributed her opinion. “The power is there, but the body does not have enough energy to use it. Only extreme need or emotion can overcome it.”

It was nice to have some backup about that at least. Steve shared a look with El and gave her a smile of thanks.

“So, it’s a suck it and see situation,” Lucas concluded.

“Pretty much,” Steve agreed.

“Can you choose what to heal first?” was Lucas’ next question.

“Not yet,” he replied.

“So you should be able to?” came from Mike’s direction.

One day the kid would drop the vendetta he seemed to have, but today was not that day.

“I’m mostly running on instinct,” Steve replied, crossing his arms. “I feel like I should be able to, but I don’t know how. It’s not like this comes with an instruction manual.”

“I thought it was against the guy code to read those anyway,” Robin said, which made everyone laugh.

He sent her a grateful look.

“How do we make sure Steve has enough time to do his thing?” Erica asked in her usual perfunctory manner.

“Yeah, two hours is a long time,” Lucas agreed. “Max’s mom is bound to come back in that amount of time.”

“Dammit,” Dustin said, “that could be a problem.”

“Joyce can take her to lunch,” Nancy piped up.

“Me?” Joyce asked.

“Yes, Mom, it’ll be perfect,” Will spoke up. “The whole town knows what you went through with me, it could be one mother to another. Max’s mom has been dealing with this all by herself since the evacuation. I’m sure she’d jump at it.”

Joyce looked a little unsure.

“And Hop’s a bit too big and intimidating to be a relaxing lunch date,” Jonathan added, and even Steve managed to dredge up a laugh at that.

“Thanks, Jon,” Hopper said in his driest tone.

“Oh, I suppose, yes, that could work then,” Joyce agreed.

“What about nurses and doctors?” Lucas asked. “When I would read to Max, they’d come in and out at odd times.”

“Ooh, ooh, I know,” Robin piped up. “Prayer circle.”

Steve didn’t immediately follow.

“That is perfect in this town,” Nancy agreed.

“I do not understand,” El spoke up.

“From the way Eddie described what he saw when Steve healed Hopper,” Robin explained, waving her arms around as she explained, “it looks a bit like meditating. So keep Steve’s back to the door, because a nosebleed is gonna rouse suspicion and if anyone comes in, El can start praying out loud. With the religious nutjobs in this town, that will get anyone backing off asap.”

“I am not sure I know how to pray,” El said, looking conflicted.

“Don’t worry, Kid,” Hopper said, giving her a smile, “I’ll teach you how to sound just like one of those hypocritical asses.”

“And the rest of us can pretend to be waiting our turn,” Dustin added. “That way we can give El a heads up if anyone is coming.” Steve felt himself relaxing a little. They had a plan, now all they had to do was execute it.

End of Chapter 18

Chapter 19

[toburnup]

Oh no ‘Because even if Steve came out here for him, it doesn't mean it was worth it.’ How heartbreaking to think! What a hard thought it is to have with no way to truly question it. Asking could result in a dishonest answer and he’d never truly know his worth.

It was a real clenched jaw chapter, seeing inside the mind of Eddie when he’s so confused, when he knows what he wants but doesn’t want it at the same time, not knowing what feeling is real.

I do have a question though, does Eddie look up to Steve? I could be reading it all completely wrong but he seems to have that “I need to be better” attitude that you tend to have when you talk to a parent or a teacher or someone you look up to who you’d like to live up to. I just wondered if maybe he looks up to Steve, desires him in a more complicated ‘I wish I could be like you’ sort of way. Even when he seems annoyed with Steve, thinks Steve is dumb there’s always something that makes me think he’s thinking ‘don’t do that, I know you’re better than that.’ Sort of a ‘don’t dumb yourself down’ move. (I hope this makes some sense!)

I do need to say, I fear you write these emotions better then I will ever truly feel them. How nice it is to feel things without it being a direct effect on my own life. Much love!

hmm. i had to think about this one a bit! the attitude you're pointing out - where eddie devalues himself - is part of how his own insecurities appear. and it's quite different than steve's. your interpretation makes sense to me - i think it's slightly different than how i approach it, but this side of eddie is also something that feels pretty distant from myself tbh so i could be way off.

iylo meta continuing below

while eddie thinks steve is ultimately a good person, the language like 'i need to better / be more' is like... eddie projecting his own idea of self-worth.

there's also this exchange in ch. 3:

Steve: "Do you think you're a good person?" Eddie: "Good in whose opinion?" Steve: "I don't know. Does it matter?" Eddie: "Yeah. Like I'd be pretty damn disappointed if Wayne or whoever thought I was a bad person."

eddie doesn't want to be a disappointment to the people he cares about. at that point, steve wouldn't have fallen under that category, but now he does. so maybe eddie wants to be better because steve's opinion of him matters now. it's a testament to their closeness, because i'd say eddie has to trust someone quite a bit to give a fuck what they think of him. he's not quite at that point with his roommates but he's close.

steve, on the other hand, cares a great deal about how strangers perceive him. his biggest barrier to happiness imo.