#human Steve harrington

[blueflamehellfire]

Run

Eddie was leaning back in his seat as he watched the party that was happening. Eddie still hated parties after his 356 years alive. He had never found the appeal in playing nice with a bunch of people who wouldn't think twice about shoving a stake through his heart if need be. He sighed through his nose and rubbed his leg as he caught a glimpse of a person that almost seemed to glide as he walked across the room to the table of treats for them. It was a party to promote the new synthetic blood, Ichor, said to be as nutritious as the real deal and as close to it as possible. Eddie didn't want to try it because he was a picky eater. He was startled from his thoughts as the same person came up to him, "You haven't tried a bag." he says brushing some of his shaggy brown hair out of his eyes.

Eddie looked at him and his eyes widened a bit, "What?" he asks and cringes at how dumb he sounds when a literally God was standing in front of him. The man was tall, tan, and beautiful. He had dark brown hair that he had parted to the side part of it curled around his cheek bone and his hazel eyes crinkled when he smiled. "Ichor. You haven't tried any. I've been waiting on you to try some so I would have a reason to talk to you." He says. "I'm Steve. Steve Harrington of.." "Harrington Enterprises?" Eddie asks with a slight smile, "I figured as much." he says leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. "Why does it matter what I think about the synthetic blood?" He asks, but takes the bag anyway. "Or did you just want to talk to me, pretty boy?" Steve catches his bottom lip between his teeth before he chuckles, "And if I did?" he asks deciding to actually let himself enjoy a conversation for once instead of pushing the product he worked so hard on. "Then I'd say pull up a chair and we can talk while I give your blood a try." he says watching him do just that as he opens the end of the blood bag container and took a slight inhale and drank some of it. He froze when it touched his tongue and looked at Steve in pleasant surprise. It actually tasted like the real thing and, if he was capable of it, he would've blushed at the other man's chuckle. Eddie pulled away from the bag to swallow, "How did you do that?" he asks "I don't want to bore you, but it was a lot of cellular work." Steve says shrugging watching the other eat, "Do you like it?" Eddie nods as he finishes it, "It's amazing. Are there different types like in people?" He asks curious about how it would work to satisfy the majority. "Yes. The one I gave you is Rh-null." He says, "you seem like the type of man that likes rare blood and that is the rarest on earth. Less than 50 people have it." he says proudly. "That's why it's called Golden Blood." Eddie says nodding. and looks at the bag that has a golden label. "It tastes like it could be used at a blood bank." He says and Steve seems to smile more at that. "That's what I was aiming for. It can't be, but I wanted it to taste as close to the real deal as physically possible." He says nodding. "I'm planning on releasing a sweet brand soon." "Well then I volunteer to be the taste tester." he says watching the other man's face as they studied each other. "Seriously though. Why does a human care so much about what us vampires eat?"

"My best friend and her girlfriend are vampires. I just want them to be healthy and they don't like any of the other synthetic stuff so I figured I'd use my science know how to craft a better one." He says shrugging. "My turn to ask a question." He says and Eddie motions for him to go. "You know who I am. So my question is who are you?" "Shit I was swept away by your beauty and forgot to tell you my name. I'm Eddie. Eddie Munson." He says and he watches Steve's eyes widen. "Eddie Munson as in the mysterious singer Eddie Munson?" Steve asks a nervous giggle bubbling up as he watches the other man. "Holy shit. I knew you were hot."

"You know my music, big boy?" He asks his knees brushing Steve's now. He smiles more as the human blushes at him, "What's your favorite song?" "Right now it's Figure You Out, but I also like One For The Money." he says with a nod as he smiles at him. "What's your favorite song?"

"Falling. I absolutely love that song." he says softly as if it's a big secret; which it is because that song is nothing like the rest of his music. It's a ballad instead of a heavy rock song.

"I can see why. It really shows off your vocal range and with the piano being the primary instrument on there it showcases your voice even more." Steve rambles before his cheeks tint pink again. "Sorry. I think that's one of your most impressive songs on the album."

Eddie smiles studying his face for a long moment, "I've never met someone who has actually asked me what my favorite song is." he says softly. "Well that's not my band of course."

"I have an insane question." Steve says softly. "Would you like to get out of here?" he asks looking at him leaning forward to take his hand with a gentle touch. He didn't flinch at the cold skin, but he did smile up at him. Hazel eyes meeting red.

"I thought you'd never ask, Sweetheart." He says and sholds his hand as he stands up. "Lead the way, Big Boy." he says before he follows him through the crowd and out a door.

Neither boy realized that this was the start of forever for them.

[queenie-ofthe-void]

Steve knows the kids are obsessed with the newest up and coming metal band, Corroded Coffin, even though their music is actually terrible. But when Robin of all people begs Steve take them to the band's next gig, he relents.

Everything starts to make a lot more sense when they walk up to the stage and there's an honest to god Siren behind the microphone, a guitar slung low on his hips with magic wafting off him in waves over the crowd.

The singer clocks him immediately and quickly schools the flash of surprise in his eyes into something more flirtatious.

Steve smiles, the cat that caught the canary. He was right. Their music really does suck, and he can't wait until tomorrow when he can rub it in his tiny human friends' faces.

Tonight, however, he's going to ruffle a pretty boy's feathers.

~~~

Eddie knows his music's horse shit, tailor made for humans- sue him, they needed the money. So he's always a little surprised when another creature finds their way to his concerts. It happens on occasion, and of course they're always welcomed. He's seen all sorts on their tour.

But something as beautifully unholy as a Nephilim?

The man with the auburn hair and hazel eyes surrounded by a gaggle of children glows with a golden aura so soft and warm Eddie's almost left speechless. Almost.

He's caught staring, but he can't take his eyes away. So Eddie does what Sirens do best. He preens, puffs his sleek black feathers just enough for only the man in the crowd to see and sings. A move typically saved for encores, the crowd goes wild with energy and pushes their way towards the stage.

The Nephi laughs, full-bodied with mirth at the antics. A beacon of golden light bursts from him, control of his halo slipping just the slightest.

It's unearthly, it's sinful, and Eddie falls to his knees in worship. The men and women caught in the halo turn to him, smiling and leaning in and touching what is Eddie's--

But the Angel relaxes, the halo draws back, and the peoples' hands fall away even though their eyes linger.

None of that matters when the Angel blows him a kiss. Eddie knows, deep in the hollows of his bones, that when he finds him after the show, he'll stretch his Angel's wings and show him just how bright his halo can glow.

[hawkinsbnbg]

“Can we keep him, Uncle Wayne?”

Wayne didn’t look up from his newspaper, too used to his nephew picking up strays and bringing them home. God blessed the boy’s big young heart, but their trailer didn’t have space for another kitty or pup.

“I told ya before and I told ya it now,” Wayne said gruffly but not unkindly. “We don’t have space for your pet, son.”

“He’s not–”

“Eds, I’ll be fine on my own,” a quiet voice cut in before Eddie could start his usual speech.

That garnered Wayne’s attention immediately. And there standing next to his nephew was Steve Harrington who looked worse for wear—red puffy eyes, split lips, disheveled hair, and rumpled clothes.

“What happened?” Wayne set his newspaper aside and straightened up in his chair. He had a few good guesses already given what he knew of Richard and Amanda, but he still wanted to hear their side of the story first.

“His parents kicked him out,” Eddie hissed, hand clutching Steve’s fiercely in case the other boy tried to get away. He didn’t, just deflated as soon as the words were out of Eddie’s mouth.

“I’m sorry, sir,” Steve mumbled, eyes shining stubbornly as they locked with Wayne’s. “I just need a place to stay until tomorrow and then I’ll be out of your hair soon.”

“Stevie,” Eddie turned to him with an exasperated look. “You can’t believe that I’d let you leave after everything, right?”

“I know you want to help,” Steve rubbed a hand down his face tiredly, like he needed to hide a part of himself, vulnerable and slightly worn-out. “But I don’t wanna intrude.”

“You won’t,” Eddie shook his head rapidly and then looked at Wayne. “Right, Wayne? He’s not bothering you or anything, right?”

Wayne took in the sight of the Harrington boy, scared and lost, and knew his decision had been made for him. It wasn’t his first time taking in a stray anyway.

“Just call me Wayne or Uncle Wayne, kid,” he offered Steve a closed-mouthed smile, his most amiable one. “We don’t have much here, but feel free to ask me anything you need.”

When Steve ducked his head with a shy smile and sniffled a small Thank you, Wayne didn’t regret his choice.

It didn’t hurt that his nephew also beamed at him like Wayne had just saved the world.

And in a sense, to Eddie, it was true.

Because Wayne could see how much the Harrington boy meant to him, see the way they looked at each other without admitting it aloud.

Perhaps, Wayne picked up his newspaper again as Eddie offered the Munson’s new member a mug of warm milk, he was going to have another son soon enough.

[estrellami-1]

Anything

Trigger warning: discussions of death. Not a main character, but it does happen. Lots of angst. Lots of hurt/comfort. I’ll post it in the tags as well.

Steve has a problem.

It’s not a big problem, not really, but his brain won’t let it go and is making it a bigger deal than it really is.

Eddie won’t ride in his car alone.

With the kids, sure; he’ll practically dive into the backseat, noogie Dustin, generally make a nuisance of himself.

But if it’s just the two of them? If Steve insists on driving, Eddie will take his van. There’s no problem if Steve wants to ride with Eddie. But the other way around? Eddie riding with Steve? That doesn’t happen. And Steve has no idea why.

“Talk to him, Dingus,” is Robin’s advice. He’d flip her off, but unfortunately he thinks she’s right: this is something they’re gonna have to talk through.

So Steve pulls on his big-boy pants and marches himself to the Munsons’ trailer, knocking on the door and waiting expectantly.

He doesn’t expect Wayne, but maybe he should’ve, because that’s who answers the door. “Hi, Steve. You’re here for Eddie, I bet, he’ll be in his room.” He moves aside to let Steve in, and Steve thanks him after a second before moving down the hall to Eddie’s room.

He hears him before he sees him; or, more accurately, he hears his guitar. He’s playing the acoustic tonight, instead of his usual sweetheart, so Steve knocks instead of walking in like he’d usually do.

The guitar stops, and Steve hears it being put down, hears a heavy sigh. “Wayne, I’m not really in the- oh.” He opens the door as he speaks and blinks at Steve. After a second, he smiles. “Hey, man, c’mon in.”

Steve blinks. “Uh. Are you okay?” 

Eddie purses his lips. “Define okay. I’m not currently being eaten by bats, y’know? But playing the acoustic always reminds me of my Ma.”

“Ah.” Steve shifts. “Sorry, man. Maybe I should come back later.”

Eddie shrugs. “You’re here now, aren’t you? I can’t be that terrible company.”

Steve snorts. “No, I just… I had a question, but it can wait.”

Eddie tilts his head. “You do that a lot, y’know?” He turns, sits on his bed. Motions Steve into his room.

Steve sits next to him, more comfortable here than in his own room. “Do what?”

“Put yourself last.” He shrugs. “You can ask me. If I don’t wanna answer, I won’t.”

Steve scrunches his nose. “Okay, fine. Why won’t you ride in my car?”

Eddie frowns. “I do, though? Hell, I did what, two days ago? You, me and Dustin went to that comic store in Indy.”

“Okay, let me rephrase. Why won’t you ride passenger in my car, alone? Without any of the kids? And even two days ago you were in the backseat with Dustin.” He shrugs. “It’s not a big deal, I’m just curious.”

Eddie takes a breath. “No, it’s- yeah. You should know.” He clears his throat, grabs the acoustic again. Plays a riff of some sort, fingers dancing over the frets. “I think I feel like I have to save everyone. Or at least be in a position where I can save them, if the need arises.” He swallows, takes another breath. His fingers still. They tremble over the strings. “Did I ever tell you how my ma died?”

Now it’s Steve’s turn to inhale sharply. He shakes his head. “We can stop,” he says. “You don’t have to tell me.”

Eddie smiles ruefully. “I do, though.” He shakes his head. “I was… I was six. It was three days before my seventh birthday. We were driving home from the city. Ma was drivin’, an’ she let me sit in the front seat, since it was almost my birthday. Or- that’s what she said. I think it was so we couldn’t stop her. Couldn’t save her.” He swallows. His eyes are glassy. His accent is thick, the way it gets when he’s thinking about her, or when he’s emotional. His left hand grips the neck of the guitar tightly. Steve worries for his fingers. “We weren’t goin’ that fast, even, but forty’s enough when-” he shakes his head, looks away. Coughs out something that wanted to be a sob. Steve takes the guitar, takes Eddie’s hand. Puts the guitar down. Doesn’t let go of Eddie. “She unbuckled her belt. Dad didn’t see it. I did. Didn’t say anythin’. Maybe I should’ve, I dunno.” He squeezes Steve’s hand. “Then it all happened so fast… she smiled at me, an’ opened her door, an’ next thing I knew-” he wipes at tears on his cheeks. “D’you know what happens to a human head under the wheel of a car at forty miles an hour?”

Steve gasps, grips Eddie’s hand just as tightly. Pulls Eddie in when he begins to shake. “An’ I know why, now,” he whispers. “Dad weren’t good to her. I’unno what he done t’her. I know she did what she could. But I was there. I was right there.” He sniffles, trembles with the effort of keeping his sobs in. Somehow succeeds. “So that’s why. Figure if a kid were to try… I could stop ‘em. Figure if you were to try…”

“You could stop me.” Steve holds him tight. “I won’t,” he whispers. “I swear to you, I won’t.”

“I know,” Eddie whispers back. “But I gotta be able to try.”

“Christ, Eds,” Steve whispers. “I was gonna ask if you’re okay but that’s a stupid question.”

Eddie giggles, still teary-eyed. “Just a little bit.”

Steve pulls away to look him in the eye. “I’m staying tonight, okay? Nightmares are always worse after something like this.”

“Then you should go home,” Eddie argues. “Sleep while you can.”

“Nightmares are always easier with someone else.”

“Damn you, that’s true.” They both laugh a little.

Just then, Wayne comes in with two steaming mugs. “Listen to your boy, son,” he says to Eddie, handing over one of the mugs. He gives Steve the other with a wink. “Lavender tea with a shit ton of honey. Learned it from my ma.”

“Not my boy, Wayne,” Eddie grumbles, but thanks him for the tea anyways.

Steve thanks him too, and he winks again before leaving. Eddie rolls his eyes. “I’d apologize for him, but you’d just defend him.”

“Hey, I like Wayne.”

“I know. Sometimes I think you like him more than you like me.”

Steve chuckles. “Never. You’re my favorite.” He moves so they’re sitting shoulder to shoulder, drinking their tea, leaning against each other. It’s peaceful, and soon enough Eddie’s yawning and dropping his head onto Steve’s shoulder. “Imma pass out soon.”

“Then let’s get you up to brush your teeth before you do.”

Eddie groans like the toddler he secretly is. “I don’t wanna.”

“Yeah, and you don’t wanna go to the dentist to get teeth pulled, either, now do you?”

“Shuddup.”

“Wow. Real master of words here. Really feeling that Dungeon Master power.”

Eddie thumps his arm, but snickers, and really that’s what Steve was going for in the first place, so he just smiles and leads Eddie to the bathroom.

Soon enough they’re in bed, tucked in next to each other, not quite packed like sardines and it’s only because of the heat outside that Steve isn’t more upset not to have more of a reason to touch Eddie. “Night, Eds,” he murmurs, smiling when Eddie rolls over to face him and is temporarily blinded by his own hair. Steve helps move his hair, grabs at Eddie’s hand when he’s done. “Wake me up if the nightmare doesn’t, okay?”

“C’mon, Steve, I can deal with them-”

“I know you can,” Steve answers. “But I want to be up if you are. I want to help if I can. Please, Eddie?”

Eddie sighs after a second. “Damn you,” he says, “I can’t say no to you.” He’s smiling, despite his words, so Steve smiles back.

“Thank you.”

“G’night, Stevie.”

“Night, Eds.”

Steve wakes up to Eddie crying out in his sleep. Even with his eyes closed, he’s got tears streaming down his cheeks. Steve sits up, turns on the lamp, and puts a hand on Eddie’s shoulder. “Eddie?”

He rolls over, away from Steve, and continues sobbing. “Eds? Are you awake?” No answer, so Steve puts his hand back on Eddie’s shoulder and shakes a little. “Eddie, wake up!”

He’s up with an aborted yell and a flail of limbs, sitting up and staring into the darkness of his room, trembling. He sniffs and turns to face Steve, finally realizing he’s there, and Steve opens his arms for a hug.

He collapses into Steve’s arms, face mashed into the side of Steve’s neck, arms snaking around Steve’s torso to give an ineffectual tug. Steve takes the hint and inches closer until they’re practically hip-to-hip. “Y’wanna talk about it?” He asks. Eddie sniffs and shakes his head. “Y’want me to talk? To distract you?” Eddie nods. “Okay. Uh… I may have bitten myself in the butt with this one, ‘cause I’m not a great storyteller, not like you are, but did you know we actually met in middle school?”

No answer. “We did. Hawkins Middle was putting on its annual talent show. Now, back then, I was nobody. No one knew me, my name, my parents… nothing. I had one friend named Tommy, who I’d grown up with. Of course, you know him, and you know what happened between us, but he was my only friend back then. I didn’t tell anyone, but I signed up for the talent show. I didn’t even know what I wanted to do, I just knew I wanted to do something. I’ve always had a pretty decent voice, so I figured I could just sing, if I couldn’t figure out anything else to do. Knew I’d at least beat out Tammy Thompson.” He shifts so Eddie’s hair is no longer a choking hazard and pets his hand over Eddie’s head, doing his best to tame the wild curls. “So it’s the night of the talent show, right? And it feels like the whole school is there. I’m sitting backstage, peeking through the curtains, and am about to have my very first panic attack. Someone bumps into me and knocks me over. They tell me to watch where I’m going, even though I wasn’t moving. So now I’m on the ground, thinking about the crowd, and the noise is getting to be too much, and someone grabs my hand and it all… stops. Just like that. It’s silent, other than, like, a ringing sound in my ears. And this boy, the one who grabbed my hand, kneels in front of me, puts my hand on his chest-” Steve demonstrates, moving so he can grab Eddie’s hand and put it on his chest, just over his heart. “-and tells me to breathe with him. In, out. In, out. He raised his hand when we breathed in, and lowered it when we breathed out. In, out. In, out. And when my breathing’s calmed down, he tells me to name five things I can see. And you know what I said first?”

Eddie furrows his brows. “My… my hair?”

“Yup,” Steve nods. “But you’d just had it shaved off, so d’you know what I really saw first?”

“What?”

Steve giggles. “Your ears.”

Eddie groans and ducks his head, pressing his forehead into Steve’s chest. “Hated my ears.”

“I’m gonna say something that’s gonna sound mean, but is actually a compliment,” Steve warns him. “Your ears reminded me of Dumbo. I always loved that movie, the reminder that we don’t have to change who we are in order to be loved. That sometimes the things we hate most about ourselves, the things people tease us about the most, are actually the things that help us most, in the end.” He guides Eddie to lay down. “And I’m not saying your ears are what saved you. But I am saying they reminded me that everything, maybe, isn’t entirely hopeless.” He smiles, tucks Eddie’s hair behind his ear. Says, “I like your ears.”

Said ear burns red. “You’d be one of the few.”

“That’s okay.”

“What’s your thing? Your… ears?”

Steve hums. “Did you know I cried a lot as a kid? I was very emotional, very easily moved. My dad always hated it, so I learned to cover it up. But I think it’s what got me here in the end. I could’ve told Dustin I didn’t have time to help him, but I didn’t. I got roped into this whole mess, but it’s how I got to know him and the kids. It’s how I got to know Robin and you.”

Eddie smiles. “I’m glad you cried as a kid.”

Steve laughs. “Yeah. Me too.” He shifts, a little closer, a little more down the bed so their eyes are level. “D’you wanna talk about it?”

“There’s nothing I want less.”

“D’you think you can sleep?”

Eddie takes a breath. Steve feels the exhale over his cheek. “Maybe.”

“M’kay. Lemme know if you can’t.”

“Okay. I won’t.”

“Eddie.”

He giggles. “I’m kidding. I’ll let you know. I just… won’t stop talking at you until you answer.”

Steve hums, lets his eyes slip shut. “I’ll always answer.”

“Yeah,” Eddie says, so soft. It makes something warm unfurl in Steve’s chest. “I know you will.”

Steve reaches out, squeezes Eddie’s hand in answer. Lets sleep drag him down the way it’s wanted to since he lay back down.

He doesn’t think about the fact that their hands are still clasped.

He’s the first one up in the morning, and he’s a little annoyed by it because they’d shifted during the night, so Steve is no longer facing Eddie.

His annoyance lasts for all of two seconds before he realizes there’s a warm weight behind him and over his hip, and he figures out it’s because Eddie is behind him, arm over Steve’s hip, fingers curled against the little bit of skin visible from Steve’s shirt riding up during the night.

Steve smiles, sighs, and lets his eyes sink shut again.

He doesn’t sleep, just kind of drifts, so he feels it when Eddie wakes up. He feels him tense in a stretch, feels his forehead press against Steve’s spine, feels his fingers curl farther into Steve’s stomach.

He feels Eddie wake up fully and realize the position he’s in. Feels him hum, then stiffen, slowly pulling away. Steve aches about it, but doesn’t move until he’s out of bed completely, taking the time then to roll over as if he’d just woken up. “M’rn’n,” he mumbles, not exaggerating the sleep-rough in his voice at all.

“Mornin’,” Eddie yawns. “How’d you sleep?”

Steve hums, stretches, sits up. “Think I should be asking you that.”

Eddie smiles. “I slept fine. Now how about you?”

“No more nightmares?”

“Not at all. Think you chased ‘em all away.”

“Good.”

“Steve.”

“What?”

“How did you sleep?”

“Oh. Fine. Great.”

Eddie hums, but takes his word for it, offers his hand to help Steve up, which he accepts.

“Can I ask you something that I’m pretty sure you’re not gonna want to answer?”

Eddie grins crookedly. “You can ask me anything, Stevie. If I don’t wanna answer, I won’t.” He sits back on the bed, next to Steve. “What is it?”

“What was your dad like?”

Eddie blows out a breath, looks away. “Jesus, first thing in the morning, too. Uh… y’know how you said your dad is a grade-A asshole?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah. Last I heard, he’s in the state prison for the next… five? Ten? Years. I dunno, don’t really keep track. Was just little things at first, petty theft, then he got an ego and started stealing cars, met a guy who could clean ‘em, and he just…” he shakes his head. “Wayne says he got too big for his britches. I say he got what was coming to him. He tried to rob someone and it… didn’t go well. He got caught, the owner tried to scare him off, swung first, but it doesn’t matter who swung first when he’s dead and my dad was trespassing, right? Tried to say it was self-defense, but…”

“But he was trespassing,” Steve nods.

“Exactly. He got twenty-five for that, and it’s been… twelve years? So I guess he’s got… thirteen left. Not five or ten. Guess it feels like he’s been gone that long.” He sighs. “I went to live with Wayne before that, though… I had a friend, he was my best friend, and my dad… really didn’t like how close we were. Spit out a couple’a slurs, said something about sending me to a camp.” Steve’s breath catches. “I called Wayne that night. Poor guy drove that night, was there by… one in the morning? Picked me up and I’ve never looked back.” He shrugs, picks at his comforter. “Turns out Dad was right about me, but Wayne’s never had an issue, so.” He shrugs. His fingers belie his nerves.

“I think, if I were to ever tell my dad,” Steve says quietly, “a camp would be the least of my issues.”

Eddie’s fingers still for a second before continuing, not fidgeting quite as quickly as before. “Yeah?”

“Mhm.”

“Then it’s a good thing you don’t have to tell him.”

“I think I do, though.”

“How so?”

“He’s got this… way. Of just proving himself right, every time. It’s why I haven’t left yet. He always finds a way to twist it around and show me I can’t make it on my own. Not on my Family Video salary.”

Eddie hums. “Maybe not on your own,” he admits. “But with a person or two? There’s Family Videos in other cities. Ask to transfer. Robin’s been making noise about heading to Indy, right?”

“I think she just wants out of Hawkins, and Indy is the only feasible place to her.”

“Very understandable. Where would you go, Steve? If you could go anywhere?”

Steve sighs. “That’s the problem, though. I can’t leave the kids.”

Eddie chuckles. “I should’ve known. Then why not find a place in between? Maybe on the edge of town?”

“We’re still both on a Family Video salary. I don’t think even combined we could afford anything.” Steve tilts his head. “You said a person or two. Who’s the other person?”

“Ah,” Eddie says. “Well, not to come between the platonic soulmates, but I’m sure Wayne would love to have his life back.”

Steve snorts. “Robin loves you almost as much as I do, Eds, of course you’re welcome.”

Eddie ignores that, for the sake of his own sanity. “Well,” he says instead. “Maybe it’s time to take a crack at those newspapers Wayne’s been hoarding.”

“Maybe it is,” Steve says, a strange sort of smile playing across his lips. “And I can ask people. You’d be surprised at the amount of gossip I hear at work.”

“Oh, I believe it, trust me. Or are you forgetting I use to hang around Sam Goody?”

“Oh, god,” Steve laughs, “I had forgotten that, yeah.” He sighs. “D’you think we would’ve been friends back then? If we’d known each other?”

“I don’t think so.” Eddie chews at his bottom lip. “Not because of you, but because of me. I was still stuck in that high school hierarchal shit, y’know? I would’ve seen you as an asshole jock even though you weren’t anymore.”

“I think I’m still working on it.”

“I think we’re all working on being who we want to be.” He stands and offers Steve a hand up with a grin. “And y’know what helps with that?”

Steve chuckles, places his hand in Eddie’s. “What’s that?”

“Pancakes,” he says decisively. “C’mon, let’s go bully Wayne into making us some.”

“And by bully, you mean ask once.”

Eddie hums. “Same difference.”

He waltzes into the living room, arms spread wide. “Sir Wayne! Our visiting prince has requested pancakes this fine morn.”

Wayne squints at him. “I’m your king, dipshit,” he says, lip quirked up in a smile as he winks at Steve. “Make your own damn pancakes.”

“Wayne!” Eddie cries. “Betrayal! Betrayal of the highest order!”

“You’ll live,” Wayne deadpans. Steve giggles.

Eddie narrows his eyes at Wayne. “Fine,” he says. “We will make our own. But there shall be no extra for you, sir!”

Following him to the kitchen, Steve says, “We’ll make extra.”

“Don’t hurt yourself,” Wayne returns, “but I’d ‘preciate it.”

In the kitchen, Eddie sighs with his head halfway in a cabinet. “Okay, so we don’t have mix.”

“That’s okay,” Steve says. “I can make them from scratch.”

“Or,” Eddie says, turning to Steve with a grin. “We can go out.”

“We could,” Steve allows. “But then Wayne wouldn’t get any.”

Eddie hops backwards onto the counter and leans forward, resting his forearms on his knees. “Y’know how I said we wouldn’t have been friends if we’d met earlier?”

“Yeah.”

“It really would’ve been entirely my fault.” He sighs. “You’re just… so nice. And it would’ve been unbelievable, for me, because the Munson Doctrine dictates that all jocks are assholes and stay jockish assholes. I think what happened… had to happen, if we were gonna be friends.”

Steve worries his lip. “Then… is it bad if I say I’m glad it happened? If only for that reason?”

“Only if I’m also glad it happened, for that reason,” Eddie responds quietly. “Y’know the only other person I’ve told about my ma is Jeff?”

“I’m…” he pauses, scrunching his nose. “I wanna say I’m honored, but that sounds weird.”

Eddie chuckles. “I know what you mean, Stevie.”

Steve nods, and they stay there for a minute, looking at each other, until Steve looks away with a sigh. “Alright,” he says, pancakes?”

Eddie gusts out a sigh. “Please.”

Steve chuckles and shoves the flour towards Eddie. “Here. Two cups.”

Eddie frowns. “Only?”

“For now. We can always make more later if we need to.”

Eddie shrugs, but nods at Steve, as if deferring to his expertise. “D’you have eggs?”

“Uh.” Eddie checks the fridge, then the cabinet. “No, but we’ve got Spam?”

Steve snorts. “That works. Wanna cut up a can and fry it?”

“Works for me.”

And so they work, side by side, until breakfast is ready and they’re all three eating side by side.

After, Wayne stretches in his seat, glances at the clock, and mutters something underneath his breath as he gets up. “Thanks for breakfast, boys. Steve, you gonna be here for dinner?”

“Uh,” Steve says, glancing at Eddie. “Unless Ed kicks me out.”

“Never,” Eddie swears. 

“I’ll pick up burgers on my way back,” Wayne decides. “That work for you two?”

“Definitely,” Eddie nods.

“Sure. Thank you, Wayne.”

“Son,” Wayne starts, then shakes his head. 

Steve gets the message: he belongs here. His cheeks burn. “Thanks, Wayne,” he murmurs.

Wayne ruffles his hair as he passes.

“So,” Eddie asks, once it’s just the two of them. “Any plans for the day?”

Steve makes a face. “I gotta work at two, but I’m free till then.”

Eddie snorts. “Lemme guess, you’re working alone?”

“Yeah.”

“Well not today!” Eddie says brightly. “Why don’t I come with?”

Steve blinks. “Because… why would you?”

“Cause you’re my friend, Stevie. I wanna hang out with you but I can’t do that if you’re at work and I’m here.”

Steve snickers. “I guess we can talk about moving in together. Tuesdays are always the slowest day of the week.”

“Yeah! Wayne’s got the papers around here somewhere.” He trails off, looking around, then bounds over to the TV with a triumphant, “Ha!” He reaches into the crate the TV’s sitting on and pulls out a stack of newspapers. “Okay, we don’t want anything from last year… beginning of this year might be too old…” he hesitates, looking at Steve. “Maybe since Spring Break? A lot of people moved out.”

Steve hums, moves closer. “Good point. There’s bound to be something on the edge of town.” He sighs as he sits next to Eddie. “The only problem is Robin doesn’t have a car, or even her license. And if I’m working here, and she’s trying to work in Indy, how’s she gonna get there?”

“Well,” Eddie begins, “who says you have to stay at Family Video? Why not stretch your wings out? Try something else? Indy’s a big city with lots of opportunity. How about this.” He shifts so he’s facing Steve. “If you could do anything in the world, work anywhere, what would you do? Where would you work?”

Steve fidgets with his pant leg as he thinks. “A bakery,” he decides softly.

Eddie stills for a moment. “I feel like I should’ve seen that coming. You’d be a great baker, Steve. Or if you want to just sell the baked goods, you’d be great at that, too. Hawkins is small enough we don’t have need for a bakery. Not when you can get everything you need at Melvald’s. But Indy’s big. I pass by two bakeries every time I head into the city.” He puts a hand on Steve’s knee. “Stay at Family Video for now. But when we move, you can apply to those places. Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Steve nods. He can feel his cheeks heating up, feel the excitement coursing through his body. “You really think I could?”

“Steve.” Eddie sighs. “I think you are so much better than you see. I think you can do anything.”

“I dunno about anything.” Steve ducks his head as he blushes. “But, uh. Thank you.”

Eddie smiles. “For?”

Steve looks up at him. His breath catches, for a second, at the look in Eddie’s eyes. He looks away with a shrug even as his cheeks heat up. “Believing in me, I guess.”

“Anything,” Eddie promises again.

Steve looks at him again. Really looks, even as his cheeks heat uncomfortably warm. “…Anything?”

Without looking away, Eddie grabs his hand. Rubs his thumb over Steve’s knuckles. Whispers it again.

Steve leans in and kisses him.

Eddie kisses back.

[avalonlights]

this is literally saved on my computer as imsorrydacre.jpg 🤣

[runraerun]

May God forgive me but a Hot Frosty!Steddie AU where Eddie (being a freak) ((and also a little high)) kisses a snowman and unknowingly brings it to life. ☃️ *dodges rotten tomato*

Hey, if you didn’t want Eddie to make out sloppy style with your snowman then why did you make him so hot, huh??? Why did you carve abs into him? Why’d you give him bedroom eyes?! 😒Anyway… as I was saying…

Eddie leaves, accidentally leaving behind his battle vest on the snowman, heading home to Forest Hills trailer park. Dude’s totally oblivious to the fact that he just performed a freaking miracle, shattering almost every law in the known universe, all because he thought a snowman was fine as hell.

Hot Frosty (aka our boy Steve), can’t do anything but think of Eddie. It’s his first fully formed thought he has as his snowy skin melts and gives way to human flesh. When he sucks in his first breath of cold, winter art, he exhales with Eddie’s name on his tongue. His fingers reach up and gently touch his freshly kissed lips. The kiss that brought him to life; the first and only touch of warmth he’s ever received.

Steve’s not wearing anything besides a very worn denim vest, covered in colorful patches—the one Eddie so thoughtfully gave him. Otherwise, he’s naked as a jay bird. Thankfully, being a snowman, he doesn’t mind the cold. :)

He walks around town, approaching the various townsfolk, asking if they know where Eddie is. He’s looking for Eddie. Do you know Eddie? Y’know, Eddie, the one who loves me. The one who kissed me tonight. He needs to find Eddie. Eddie will be looking for him too, no doubt.

Eventually though, someone calls the fuzz on this very attractive, very confused young man who’s walking around the snow bare-assed and bare-footed. Hopper immediately recognizes the battle vest—he’s busted Munson enough times, and he’s always wearing that beat up thing. So he calls up the Munson residence, but there’s no answer. He leaves a voicemail instead, growling at him to come pick up his clearly distressed boyfriend before Hopper presses public indecency charges.

How will Eddie react when he hears the message?! Will Eddie believe hot frosty!Steve’s far-fetched tale?! WILL THEY FUCK?! (answers: Very confused, not at first, & HELL YEAH THEY DO)

[stevieschrodinger]

TW for Eddie getting hurt (but he's okay). And Human Trafficking.

Link to Part One

Link to Part Three

“Again? Seriously?”

Eddie knows he should keep his mouth shut. He knows he should. He just...doesn’t seem to be able to.

It probably doesn’t help that Eddie is one hundred percent done with this. This isn’t a life. A gilded cage is still just a cage, and Eddie’s getting to the point where antagonizing the guards is a hobby.

“Wear it, or I’ll make you wear it,” the lackey snarls, shoving the flimsy white fabric against Eddie’s chest.

“You fucking wear it!”

And that’s it. The guys an Alpha, he’s like, literally twice the size of Eddie, and it all happens so fast Eddie’s winded by the floor before he knows what hit him. And then it comes, the whistling noise of the cane singing through the air. Eddie is intimately familiar with the noise.

And just like usual, Eddie can’t keep his noises in, he curses, he calls the guard every name under the sun, he screams and starts to cry but in the end is reduced to a compliant heap, the same as every other time.

They strip him naked and splash freezing water on his face, gets rid of the snot and tears and no doubt the flush he has on his cheeks. His feet are burning, throbbing, and Eddie wants to collapse back to the floor to take the pressure off.

He’s shoved into the white dress, “you so much as blink wrong out there and you won’t be standing for a fortnight.”

Eddie dips his head; he knows it’s true. They’ve done it before. So he gives in. They’re breaking him more and more easily. Eddie doesn’t want to give up; he just doesn’t feel like he has the energy any more.

He’s been here the longest, he’s the only one that’s never sold. It’s only a matter of time before his body ends up in a shallow grave out on the ranch somewhere.

He limps into the dining room, freshly sprayed with heavy duty scent blockers. Eddie’s vaguely aware they’re eating lunch, and if his feet weren’t fucking stinging the way they are, he has no doubt his stomach would growl at the smells.

Eddie doesn’t make it that far before he catches Hagan waving a hand at him, “get him out of here, he's bleeding on the rug.” Eddie does his best to oblige, but he can only move so fast with the injuries on his feet.

Hagan, out of everyone here, is not someone you want to piss off. Eddie learned that too, very early on.

"Him," someone says behind Eddie, "I want him."

Eddie turns back again, despite the fact that it can’t possibly be him the Alpha is referring too, there are other male omega here, after all. But no. The Alpha is standing now, and he’s looking right at Eddie.

Well, fuck.

Because as much as Eddie has dreamed of this day, of getting the fuck out of here...that Alpha could be worse. The possibility is always there. This could be a frying pan into fire type situation, and there’s fuck all Eddie can do about that.

Hagan makes a noise, scoffs, "Steve, come on, have a proper look. Don't pick that one. Get a pretty one."

The Alpha is irritatingly good looking at first glance, and he becomes even more so in Eddie’s eyes when he flashes a look of irritated disgust at Hagan, "no, he'll do."

Oh, Eddie ‘will do’ will he? Okay, maybe the Alpha isn’t that good looking, after all.

"Oh," Hagan laughs, "I get it, just gonna' wreck him anyway, right? That's fair, can always get another," and he's laughing again and suddenly Eddie is ice cold with fear. Hagan called this guy Steve; clearly they know each other. Is that the type of Alpha this Steve guy is?

Everyone else is shooed out of the room, and Eddie stands there on his throbbing feet, hearing, to the dollar, how much he’s worth.

More than he thought, if he’s being honest.

Alpha Steve doesn’t even flinch at the price.

Eddie’s certain Steve must be doing fifteen over the limit, which, honestly, he doesn’t care. It means Eddie’s traveling fifteen over the limit away from a place he never wants to see ever again, so it works for him.

"Look, uh, hey, you have a name?"

"Eddie," he answers, but only because he genuinely doesn't want to antagonize this guy right out of the gate.

"Right. Eddie. So. This is...well it's going to sound a bit wild but...I'm kind of here for the FBI. I mean. I don't work for them, or anything, but...I was...asked, I guess, to get evidence. So don't worry about everyone else, they're getting rescued later so. That's. A thing, I guess?"

Eddie just sort of sits there for a moment, feeling stupid. FBI. Rescue??? Maybe he hit his head or he's dreaming or something but...no, his feet are stinging like a bitch and he can very clearly remember how the whole day has gone so far. He’s awake, and this is real.

"Yea. Yeah, I guess that's a lot to take in. But we can talk about it...later? Do you have family? Like, shit, do you have somewhere to go? I'm pretty sure I wasn't supposed to actually like...buy, a person. Couldn't leave you there though."

The Alpha’s...rambling. Which, Eddie kind of figures now that this guy wasn’t joking when he said he doesn’t work for the FBI. He looks nervous, actually, white knuckling the steering wheel. In Eddie’s experience, if something seems to good to be true, then it almost definitely is. This guy is giving off no scent, and there's no scent in the car anyway. Either it's a rental or something, or this guy wears blockers most of the time. There's even one of those fancy scent diffuser things plugged into the dash. So other than being visibly unsettled Eddie’s got nothing to go off of.

But then, why would he lie? He’s bought Eddie fair and square, and like most Alphas, he’s probably carrying double Eddie’s body weight, plus he knows Eddie's already injured. Eddie could be going from one prison to a...worse prison. But...again, this guy has no reason to lie, right?

"I've...I've got an uncle. Haven't seen him for years. I don't...know,” it’s pretty true, without giving too much away. The possibility that this guy could be serious is...it feels to big of an idea to absorb. Eddie might be free? He'll maybe see uncle Wayne again? This guy is going to just...let Eddie go? Eddie's known, for literal years, that he had two ways out of the ranch, out front, bought and paid for, or out back, in a body bag. The sudden possibility of a third option is so out of left field Eddie doesn't know what to do with it.

"Right, right okay. We can talk to Hopper about it," Steve spots a drive through, "you hungry?"

Eddie has absolutely no fucking clue what a ‘Hopper’ is, but at the sight of the beautiful golden arches, his priorities shift drastically, "oh fuck me yes," Eddie says it with such vehemence that Steve laughs, he’s got a nice laugh, this Alpha. And unless he’s playing the long con...why the fuck would he even worry if Eddie’s hungry? "I haven't left the ranch for two years, and they never let us eat anything like that, it's bad for our skin. Plus, we have to stay thin and pretty."

Steve’s expression changes in an instant, he looks genuinely horrified by what Eddie’s just revealed, “you can have absolutely anything you want.”

Eddie takes him at his word and orders half the damn menu.

Well, Eddie figures, the FBI thing is true, and this is a Hopper, and man he looks like he’s had enough, "you were not supposed to buy a human being," he very clearly tells Steve. Eddie’s feet are stinging a little on the asphalt, but as long as he doesn’t move too much, it’s bearable. And even though he’s still wearing the fucking nightdress, like hell was he missing this conversation.

"I know but-" Steve starts to protest, which Eddie thinks is kind of brave, because if Steve is twice Eddie’s weight, Hopper is basically a giant. Hopper stops him dead with a glare, and Steve hands over his phone and strips off his suit jacket and hands that over too, leaving him in a pristine white shirt.

Hopper waves him off, "you did good."

Hopper does something to the back of Steve's phone, peeling something away from it, before giving it back and then turning his attention to Eddie, "somewhere I can take you kid? Any family?"

"I only have an uncle, but I don't...it's been years, I haven't seen him since I was little."

Hopper rubs is hand over his face, the rasp of stubble loud, before he lights another cigarette, "I'll have to find you a motel somewhere while we figure this out." And that sparks a twinge of...fear. Eddie has lived with a group of Omega for years, and the ranch was a lot of things but...they had meals provided, they didn't have to think about money, or clothes, or anything mundane like that. The prospect of suddenly being completely alone...completely alone and potentially vulnerable, is not in any way appealing.

"He can stay with me." Steve suggests out of fucking no where, "I've got...a lot of space," he trails off, looking kind of sheepish that he even suggested it. At some point, somewhere between the rescue, the McDonalds, and right this moment, Eddie kind of decides, tentatively, at least, that Alpha Steve might just be an alright guy.

Hopper raises an eyebrow at Eddie, Eddie shrugs, playing down his relief, "not like I've had any better offers lately."

Hopper snorts, but he hands over a business card to Steve, "this is highly unorthodox, but...I don't care. I've got bigger things to worry about. Text me any details the kid can give you on the uncle. I'll be in touch."

And then Hopper just...drives away. Steve fiddles with the card Hopper just gave him, and Eddie can see it says FBI and all that good stuff on it. This is feeling more and more real as time stretches on.

"So is there anything you...want? Need?" Steve asks him.

Eddie feels kind of bad about the sheer amount of money he’s already cost Steve today, "I mean, I don't have any cash, obviously, and I heard how much money you shelled out- I mean, do you think you can comp me from the FBI? Man, you didn't even get a receipt for me."

And that...makes Steve laugh, like really, makes him laugh. And Eddie joins in, not that he thinks he’s funny particularly, but because Steve is just so...well. Maybe it’s a relief too, that Eddie is finally out of that place, and the truth of that is finally sinking in. He’s free. Feels a little delirious with the possibility of freedom.

And there’s only one way to celebrate something like that, “can we get milkshakes?”

@stylelovechild @steddieonthen @marklee-blackmore @sticknpokelightningbolt @resident-gay-bitch @somegirlsomewhere @mugloversonly @cryptid-system @weekend-dreamer7

[inkstainedheartbeats]

Steve rams against the invisible barrier of the cage he’s been put in. His shoulder hurts and around him other mers tell him to stop. But they don’t understand. Those two legged bastards stole his kids. They’re his and he had made promises. SNAP! He ignores the pain. Ignores the scent of blood that is his wounds reopening. They took his fry. His babies. They took them. He pounds on the barrier, wailing warbles coming from his mouth. Two legged beings gather. They point and their odd language is muffled. He just wants his fry. Please. Please he can’t lose anymore pod members. He can’t be alone.

\\=\\=\\

Eddie watches as the newest “rescue” beats himself against the glass. Listens to his wailing. Flinching at each thud. No on goes up to the Alpha and it’s not just because he’s an Alpha. He’s a Lionfish. Sharp barbs fanned out and dangerous. His tan skin, what isn’t covered in bandages tell a story of pain. Eddie was born in this tank, one of the few fins folded in such a way that if he were released like his father was he’d be dead. Wayne had fought like hell- oh shit.

Hesitantly, slowly, he approaches. A raging Alpha doesn’t typically like it when another one approaches. Especially if the other Alpha is a shark.

“Please. Please, I can’t lose them too. Please.”

Eddie hadn’t seen his arrival. Adult mers were dumped into the enclosure, wounds and temperament be damned, pups usually went to the smaller pool up front until the humans were comfortable they wouldn’t be eaten alive.

“If you keep doing that the humans are going to think you’re dangerous,” he says softly.

The mer turns, teeth flashing in threat, head held high like Poseidon before his court.

“I am.”

“If you’re dangerous they won’t introduce any pups.”

The Alpha shrinks on himself. Like he’s approaching one of the actual sharks in the tank, ones he can see hovering held back by other mers, Eddie reaches out. Places a hand on the other Alpha’s shoulder. Draws him in for a hug.

“If they aren’t returned to you by tomorrow, I’ll bug my favorite human.”

He doesn’t know this mers name. Just knows that he smells of the ocean, of salt and freedom and things Eddie has only dreamed of. He knows that despite being dangerous and deadly he curls up in Eddie’s embrace. Mate. Eddie’s never been good at this. Tends to run when he can, not that he’s fast. Amphitrite don’t let him mess this up.

[jadewritesficshere]

Werewolf!Steve snoozing on a dog bed (the kids got it for him and he couldn't tell if it was a joke but then when El and Dustin looked sad he couldn't NOT use it). Robin and Eddie are watching some long boring film and he fell asleep to them discussing the merits of the film.

Robin and Eddie are having an argument discussion when they hear Steve's snores. Which Eddie is immediately like well that's adorable and Robin is like shut up dingus. And they are half watching the movie when suddenly Steve's legs start to twitch, his claws scraping against the floor.

Steve bolts up out of bed and into a dead run, body moving before his mind has woken up. He runs straight into the wall.

[ghost-proofbaby]

it's a crime that i have to go to work on this rainy day because all i can think about is waking up to the rain with steve in bed.

the smell of petrichor slinking it's way in through the open window as the soft patter of the rain hits the glass, everything mixing with steve's clean cologne as you cuddle up closer to him to fight the chill in the air. the slow stretch of his body as he wakes up with you, face scrunched through a yawn as he instinctively wraps his arms around you. the entanglement of legs and tousled hair, the tuck of his face to press against the crook of your neck when you claim you should get up, offering to start making coffee for the two of you. the scratch of his morning tone, the croak of a whine, insisting on "just five more minutes, baby. it can wait."

going limp in his arms because he's right. the world could wait five more minutes, maybe an hour, maybe forever.

right now, it's just you, your boy, and the rain.

[flowercrowngods]

something so monstrous pt.2

(in which kas feeds from steve and triggers a bad migraine pt.2)

🤍🌷 read part 1 here this part gets really intense on the migraine. descriptions of immense pain, fever dreams, and vomiting, some body horror imagery bc pain can be fun like that

Time and space lose all meaning as Steve remains on the precipice of something that is too violent to be called sleep, but not harsh enough yet to be unconsciousness. Real sensations evade him as everything turns into pain immediately. Even the twitch of his finger becomes a thundering blaze of blinding pain shooting through his body and settling behind his eye until he is sure he will wake up blind. 

The fear of that is everpresent, the blind spots too real to ignore every time it goes like this, and he imagines how they will grow. He imagines how they get worse every time until one day the pain inside his skull will be so immense it will take his eyesight in exchange for alleviation.

And even though it is unbearable, he opens his eyes whenever he can, just to make sure he can see still. It’s an added veil of terror that covers him whole and consumes him slowly but continually. 

At some point he notices something cold and wet being placed over his eyes, adding another layer of darkness that is welcome, even if it leaves an imprint of pressure and sensation on his forehead that makes his skin tear around it, his skull cracking and caving in beneath the touch. 

And still it helps a little, pulling him further toward consciousness but not further toward the pain itself. But Steve can only whimper weakly in response, six feet under a thick cloud of cotton-filled smog that even turns breathing into a chore, polluting his lungs with fear and horror and agony without compare.

He does fall into a fitful sleep at some point, grateful for the short reprieve, but it does nothing to alleviate his exhaustion. 

It feels like his eyeballs are being pushed into his skull for what must be hours upon hours, and the pain is so unbearable, so horrible, that he's not at all surprised when nausea rises in his chest, his body responding to its current state with confusion and a hard-reset. 

Steve keens, trying to roll onto his side, groaning at the flares of pain shooting up into his skull and down into his limbs. They only worsen the nausea and it's pure instinct that gives him the strength to sit up. 

"Kas?” he whispers, swallowing thickly against another wave. "Bathroom?” 

Instead of giving him directions or pulling him up to drag him there, Kas wastes no time. He gets up off the floor, approaching him with shuffling steps once more, and gently but quickly lifts Steve off the bed in a hold — firm, yet gentle — that brings another sting of tears to Steve's eyes. Pain and vulnerability and the need for everything to be over. That’s what makes him cry.

Still he manages to hold on, his head rolling onto Kas's shoulder, the skin of his neck blissfully cool against Steve’s overheated forehead pressing into him. 

Make it stop, he thinks. Longs. Aches. It’s supposed to be over. It’s all supposed to be over now. 

He whimpers again, and imagines that Kas is the one to softly shush him this time.

The coolness of Kas's neck is gone all too soon as the vampire sets Steve on the hard, uncomfortable bathroom floor. He doesn't go far, though, crouching down beside him and holding him up over the toilet. Steve can't see anything, but still he’s grateful that Kas left the lights off, the bathroom tinged in the same darkness as his bedroom. 

Pathetically, Steve rests his forehead on the toilet seat, chasing the coldness of it as pain and nausea reach their peak. It’s disgusting, but be’s not strong enough to care. A whine breaks from him, and he wishes Kas would leave. Even though the cold hand on his neck feels good, and even though he knows he wouldn't be able to hold himself up right now. 

I'm not weak, he wants to say. And maybe he does. But he can't recognise his own voice right now. 

"Not weak, maybe, but pathetic." 

No. 

"You know you are." 

Shut up. Go away. 

It doesn't make sense for Mr Munson to suddenly be here with them, to stand in the doorway and watch his nephew, who is more monster than human these days, holding up the pathetic form of Steve, who is more pain than human. More smoke than human. More vulnerable weakness than remotely human.

Go away. Eddie? I want him to go away. Tell— Go ‘way. 

The hand wanders, pulling Steve against cool skin again so his forehead rests against the toilet no longer, basking in the cold touch and the warmth of a body to hold him. 

"Safe," Kas says, and Steve wants to badly to believe him. Wants Wayne to leave, wants everyone to leave and just let him suffer in silence and solitude like always. 

Wayne starts talking again, but Steve can't hear him this time as he suddenly heaves and retches, throwing up what little he had to eat today. Over and over and over.

It goes like this for a long time. He has no idea how long. Has no idea where he even is anymore. 

The world tilts a few times when he loses his grip, his arms buckling, his hands spasming and giving out, and still he never falls. Only ever feels the cold, damp skin of Kas’s neck. 

Kas has to carry him to bed when he's done and on the brink of passing out again, and Steve doesn’t mind this time. Kas also hands him a glass of water or two before pushing him back to lie down again. That’s nice. 

The wet cloth returns, and Steve isn't aware of his surroundings for much more after that.

—— 

The next time Steve comes to, he feels like he was freshly dragged through Lover’s Lake until his lungs gave out. His head is pulsing violently, his senses are sluggish and everything feels foggy. He has no idea where he is, the room pitch black around him as he lifts a lukewarm damp cloth from his eyes. 

A soft groan falls from his lips as he stretches his aching, cramped limbs, rubbing his hands over his face and regaining the feeling in his body. Little pinpricks of phantom pain shoot through him, his mouth tastes like ash and his head protests rather violently against his pathetic attempt at sitting up. 

He is disoriented and something about his vision is still messed up, something in the depths of the room not quite right and leaving him with a dizziness he can’t quite shake, followed by a wave of anxiety that something’s wrong with his eyes. 

He blinks. Blinks again, finding more things in the strange room as he does, his sluggish brain slowly catching up and filling in the blanks.

It all comes back to him like a tidal wave when he suddenly finds himself blinking at a pair of red eyes, softly glowing and wide open. 

“Kas,” he croaks, his throat absolutely parched. 

One second he’s wincing at that, the next he finds a cool glass of water pressed into his hands before the eyes and the shadowy form they belong to retreat to the foot of the bed again. 

 “Thanks,” he murmurs, stalling as he takes a sip. Embarrassment rises in him, but he doesn’t want to apologise. The thought of that somehow makes the vulnerability that much worse, so he tries to ignore it. It’ll all be fine if they simply not acknowledge it. 

He wants to ask for the time instead, wants to know how much the migraine took from him this time, but he knows Kas doesn’t really understand the concept of it all, let alone know the numbers. 

A silence settles between them and it’s somewhere between welcome and uncomfortable. Just like everything that happens in Hawkins. It makes Steve feel like a ghost again, but this time he’s a ghost in the room, not just in his own head. He’s the one who’s out of place.

With a little sigh, he places the glass on the makeshift nightstand again and falls over onto his side. His head is mad at him for it, still feeling too fragile for sudden movements, but lying down feels better than sitting.

There’s a huff from Kas that sounds more amused than derisive, so Steve looks at him. Looks at the shimmer in those eyes before closing his own again, not wanting to be looked at right now. Not wanting to face it.

“You,” Kas says then, his voice quiet and without the edge of that animalistic growl. The sound of someone who’s not meant to speak at all. The souvenir of someone who was human once before Evil grabbed him and modified him to His liking. 

“Me,” Steve says, an automatic response, just as quiet. He’s listening. 

“How… How are…” Kas struggles, huffing in frustration at the words that refuse to come, but still it’s the most coherent Steve has ever heard him. It makes him sit up half way again; leaning his weight on one arm to focus all his foggy and cloudy attention on the vampire trying to ask him how he is feeling. 

No more words come, though, the question half finished in the air between them. But somehow it makes Steve smile. Just a little bit. This feels important. And huge.

“My head hurts,” he answers truthfully, amused when Kas’s eyes snap back to his. To search them. To communicate something.

“Hurts?” 

“Yeah. It will, for a while. Always does. Nothing to do about it, really.” He wishes he felt as indifferent to it as he sounds, but that’s just the tiredness clouding his tone. It’s fast approaching now that he knows he’s relatively safe. Now that he knows he can rest. His arm gives out and he slides, slowly this time, back to lie on the pillow. “But it’s not as bad. And the other pain is gone, so…” 

So. He could go home now. He should, probably. Ignoring the weakness in his bones and the exhaustion in his every fiber. If he closed his eyes again right now, he could fall asleep. Still, maybe he should—

“Stay,” Kas says again, and Steve really should have figured. He’s not quite well enough to really fight him on that, though, so he shrugs. 

“Fine,” he mumbles into the pillow, halfway back to slumberland already. 

There’s movement on the foot of the bed, and before he knows it Kas has tucked him in again, draped across the pillows as he is. It’s still unreal, that, but Steve won’t complain. What’s even more unreal, though, is the image Steve gets of Kas curling up by the foot of the bed in a similar position. As if he still means to keep watch. 

It’s ridiculous. A little weird. And sort of endearing.

——

The next time Steve wakes, everything around him is a little brighter, daylight fighting weakly to fill the room, but it stands no chance against the large wooden planks and thick curtains meant to block it out permanently. 

He blinks away the heaviness, taking stock of his body. There is a crick in his neck and burgeoning cramps in his side and hip from the position he’s still in, and this head still is a pulsing, aching mess — but no more than usual. 

He taps the pads of his fingers to his thumb before flexing his hands. Only then does he stretch the rest of his body and announce his wakefulness. 

Opposite him, at the foot of the bed, Kas is already awake and still in the same position that Steve saw him last. Did he even sleep? Does he need that? Or has he just been staring at Steve, watching him, ready to carry him to the bathroom again for round two. 

The thought of that makes his skin crawl.

“Hi,” he says to fill the silence that is all too inviting for his spiralling mind.

Kas grunts, but it sounds more like a hum. Sort of gentle around the edges. He doesn’t move, doesn’t seem at all fazed that they’re just kind of staring at each other. Steve swallows, not really sure how to go from here.

He fists the blanket and rubs the linen bedding between his fingers, feels the rough fabric catching on the callouses along his hands as uncomfortable seconds tick by. Still Kas doesn’t move. 

“Listen, man,” Steve says at last, thinking back to yesterday’s events and the vampire’s sudden care. “Thanks, alright? What you did, that was, uh. That was nice. You didn’t have to do any of that.” 

Another hum, and it occurs to Steve that Kas is back in his normal state, retreated back into his mind, hiding from the world himself now that it no longer needs him. It’s a strange thought, that Steve being hurt would be what brings him back. If at all. Maybe he’s reading it all wrong. Maybe it as just a coincidence, or maybe Kas tasted something in his blood that made him want to improve Steve’s physical state for selfish purposes. That’s probably more likely.

But it makes him feel even more wrong-footed than before, and it leaves him hyper-aware of the situation. Of their dynamic. Indifference and annoyance and… He doesn’t want it to change, doesn’t want some kind of debt between himself and Kas — especially not when Kas has no means to really settle it. But he also can’t feign some kind of gratitude when what he feels the most is mortification and embarrassment; and he sure as hell doesn’t want Kas to know that either. 

So he throws back the blanket and gets out of the bed, a little dizzy at first, but he doesn’t care as he slips into his shoes and hurries out of the room. 

He just wants to leave. Get out of here and go home, go back to bed and get over the mortification of having been seen like this. Of having been taken care of. By someone who doesn’t even like him. By someone who hissed and snapped at him one moment and then carried him to the bathroom the next. 

“It looks like there’s nothing human left in him, but we do have data that suggest otherwise.” Owens’s words echo through his mind as he crosses the living room. “It seems to be in hiding, the Munson part of him; that’s our hope at least. That you can get him back out one day, make him win over the vampire part. It could be like a self defence mechanism, I guess. We hope he can still be coaxed back into the land of the living. How, though, we don’t know.”

Was this what happened? Has Steve’s weakness triggered the human part of Kas’s tortured brain to take over? No, that can’t be. 

It seems unreal. Unlikely. Wayne telling him stories or Dustin talking about their campaign, that should have helped. Even Mike playing the guitar, or Robin rambling about something or other; all of that was much more close to who Munson was. Or used to be. Eddie Munson never struck Steve as someone who took care of people naturally. Someone who stepped in. He stepped up, sure, but only ever for the wrong reasons. 

It makes no sense. So it must be wrong; just Steve’s exhausted brain grasping at straws. It usually does that, anyway. Nobody knows if Eddie is even still in there. Part of Steve hopes he’s not. 

Just as he reaches for the front door, ready to just get out of here and pretend like nothing happened, he feels a presence behind him. Kas followed him out of the bedroom, standing in the doorway now with an unreadable expression. It's the blank one he usually takes on, but where before it was normal, it throws Steve off now. Maybe because he saw how Kas can look at him. How expressive his eyes can get.

He holds them, the red shimmer a little dimmer out here in the brighter living room. 

And maybe it's the blankness in those eyes, or the lack of judgment in Kas's every action, but whatever it is, it makes Steve let go of the door and turn to face Kas properly. 

"Why'd you do it?"

The vampire inclines his head. Listening. Always listening. Steve doesn't know how he never noticed that. It seemed so primitive before. Like how a dog will react to its owner speaking, but never process the words. Kas processes, though. So Steve keeps going.

"Why'd you... You kept saying that word. Safe. Do you, uh. Do you know what it means?" 

Slowly, his eyes growing a little less blank, Kas nods. 

Steve looks around the cabin, swallowing thickly, still feeling so out of place in here, still feeling the need to run and leave it far behind. But something makes him stay. Makes him want to understand. 

"You wanted me to feel safe?" Again, Kas nods. "Why?" 

There is hesitation there, and Steve wonders if it's because he doesn't want to tell him, if he doesn't know the answer, or if he doesn't know how to answer. It's a loaded question, maybe. 

"Pain," he says at last, his voice barely discernible from a growl, but somehow Steve seems attuned to it now. Maybe because he listens now. Because he wants to know. To understand. 

He waits, watching as Kas struggles for more words once more. Just like last night. 

"Know... Know... pain. Know.” He taps his temple with a clawed hand, and Steve's heart falls, his chest aching with realisation. 

Right. He would. He would know pain like that. If what the doc says is right, if what Vecna taunted them with is right, if every working theory the kids have is right, then… yeah. Kas would know. He’s know something about pain. More than any of them. Pain so intense it splits you apart from yourself. 

"Shit," Steve whispers more to himself than to the room, crossing his arms in front of his chest to hug himself and keep from digging deeper, keep his heart from falling further, and keep the horror at bay. 

He doesn't want to imagine the kind of torture Kas went through. Is still going through, if what the doctors say has even more truth to it. If Munson is still in there, still suffering because human minds have a way of holding on to pain — Steve knows soemthing about that, too. 

"I'm sorry," he offers. It's all he can offer. In the end, it’s all that’s left.

And still it's so lame. It's not enough. 

But Kas just nods again, a pained shadow of a smile appearing on his face. Something transpires between them in that moment, Steve can feel it, but he can't really define it. Maybe some kind of understanding. Some kind of safety. 

"I gotta..." he starts, motioning to the door behind him. "I gotta go. Will you be fine? Did you have enough, y'know, to drink?" 

Another nod, and the smile widens a little. Looks a little less pained this time. 

"Good," Steve says, stuffing his hands into his pockets, lifting his shoulders to his ears, trying and failing to seem casual in the face of those glowing eyes. "I’ll– I'll see you around, yeah?" 

And then he's out the door, his head spinning and aching, his steps heavy with the weight of whatever has changed between him and Kas in the past twenty-four hours. 

... sooo. part 3 anyone?

🤍 permanent tag list gang: @skiddit @inklessletter @aringofsalt @hellion-child @stobin-cryptid @hotluncheddie @gutterflower77 @auroraplume @steddieonbigboy @n0-1-important @stevesjockstrap @brainvines @puppy-steve @izzy2210 @itsall-taken @mangoinacan13 @madigoround @pukner @i-amthepizzaman @swimmingbirdrunningrock @hammity-hammer @stevesbipanic @bitchysunflower @estrellami-1 @finntheehumaneater @goodolefashionedloverboi (lmk if you want on or off, for this story or permanently) 🤍 tagging for this work only: @forestnymph-666 @little-trash-ghost @jupitersgonemissing

[sabbathbloodysabbeth]

Stealth Sea monster Steve Harrington who is being hidden by his parents from the rest of Hawkins, who meets fellow sea monster Robin Buckley and somehow the both of them land themselves on an adventure. One in which lands Steve and Robin holding Eddie Munson hostage in a boat house to make sure he doesn’t snitch on them to the rest of the world.

I’m tempted to write an entire one shot of just Eddie being tied up while Steve and Robin are frantically freaking out about what to do.

[sidekick-hero]

The road to hell

(steddie | teen | wc: 2.8k | tags: demon!steve, exes, reconcilation, accidental demon summoning | AO3)

I have no idea what happened, but this prompt wouldn't leave me alone so have a short, self-indulgent demon!Steve crack fic.

Eddie was not wallowing. He was not.

He’s simply spending his Saturday evening home alone, sitting on his couch and drinking expensive whiskey straight from the bottle with The Cranberries crooning in the background. No biggie.

Steve hated it when he drank hard liquor from the bottle. He always insisted on using the crystal tumblers he'd owned even before he and Eddie had gotten together. Most of their stuff had been Steve’s because Eddie had been living in a one-bedroom apartment the size of a shoebox before they moved in together, while Steve owned an honest-to-god mansion.

Eddie should’ve known they’d never make it.

Their differences had been thrilling at first, sure, but it was never meant to last. He knows that now.

If he’d only known five years ago when the officiator had asked, “And do you want to take Steven Baron Harrington to be your lawfully wedded husband?” he could’ve said no if he’d known that only three years later, Steve would smash his heart into pieces.

The worst part though? Eddie knows that even knowing what would come, he wouldn’t want to give up the three years of blissful happiness before that.

Because Steve and he? They had been happy. He knows they had been. Eddie had been the happiest man on earth until the day Steve said they needed to talk. They hadn’t really talked, after all, because there hadn’t been much for Eddie to say.

What do you say when the man you believe is the love of your life tells you that he can’t do this anymore, that he thought he could be happy with Eddie but it wasn’t working? Apparently, it wasn’t Eddie’s fault, but Steve’s.

Yeah, right.

It’s definitely Steve’s fault Eddie is drinking himself stupid on what is supposed to be his fifth wedding anniversary, if not for the divorce papers he got this morning with his mail. Ready to be signed by him, Steve’s flourished signature taunting him.

What kind of asshole sends his soon-to-be ex-spouse divorce papers on their wedding anniversary?

Eddie’s not wallowing in self-pity because Eddie is livid. He’s so goddamn pissed that Steve would do that to him after promising to cherish him, to love him. How could he have been so stupid and believed all the promises Steve had made? Promises of forever, of growing old and wrinkly together, of sharing the good and the bad times with each other.

Apparently, that has all been bullshit because Eddie’s in the middle of some horrible times and Steve’s nowhere to be seen.

Taking another big swig from the rapidly emptying bottle, Eddie stares at the photo album in his lap. It’s the album with their wedding photos and one of the very few things he had taken from their shared home before he left.

He sets the album aside and reaches for another item, something he'd grabbed by accident during the chaos of moving out. It’s a book with an ornate, leather-bound cover that had always been on Steve's bookshelf, untouched and gathering dust.

Eddie flips it open, curiosity piqued by the strange symbols and archaic script. The words look like nothing he’s ever seen, some ancient language or elaborate code. He squints at the pages, the whiskey making the characters dance.

"What the hell did you collect, Steve?" he mumbles, running his finger along the odd script. He starts murmuring the strange words aloud, half in jest, half in drunken curiosity.

As he clumsily flips through the pages, one of them gives him a paper cut. "Shit," he curses, watching a drop of blood swell on his fingertip and drip onto the book. The blood seeps into the page, the crimson drop spreading and absorbing into the parchment.

The room suddenly grows colder, the air thick with an oppressive energy. Eddie looks around, a chill running down his spine. “What the…”

Before he can finish the thought, the book begins to glow, the symbols pulsing with a dark, eerie light. The room vibrates with a low hum, and Eddie stumbles back, eyes wide with horror and disbelief.

The light intensifies, and with a sudden burst, a figure emerges from the book, surrounded by a swirling vortex of shadows. Eddie’s heart pounds in his chest as the figure materializes, taking on a familiar shape.

“Steve?” Eddie gasps, his voice a mix of shock and terror.

The figure steps forward, solidifying into a very real, very present Steve. Except… not quite. His eyes glow with an unearthly light, and dark, swirling tattoos snake up his arms and neck.

“Hello, Eddie,” Steve—or the demon that looks like him—says, a smirk playing on his lips. “Miss me?”

Eddie’s bottle slips from his hand, shattering on the floor as he scrambles away, fear etched on his face. Seeing Eddie’s reaction, Steve’s smirk fades, replaced by a look of hurt and sadness.

“What the heck is going on, Steve?” Eddie demands, his voice shaking, eyes wide with a mix of anger and confusion. “If this is some kind of…of prank then it’s not funny at all.”

Steve looks apologetic. “It’s not a prank, Eddie. God, I wish it were. This,” he says as he stretches out his arm, the palm of his hand facing upwards, “is real.”

A flame appears atop Steve’s hand, casting shadows over his not-quite-human face.

Most of Eddie was fucking terrified, but he would be lying if he said there wasn’t also a part that thought Steve looked even more beautiful like that.

“So you’re saying… What? That you’re -” He can’t bring himself to say it. It sounds insane, even in his head. Speaking it out loud would mean risking his sanity, he knows it.

“A demon? A spawn of hell? A monster? An abomination? You can choose one of these, I’ve been called worse.”

Steve says it nonchalant, giving Eddie a shrug of his shoulder and a wary twist of his mouth, but Eddie knows him. Knows his tells. His heart twinges in his chest at the sight, fingers itching to reach out and pull Steve in his arms and sooth his self-doubt and insecurities.

But then he remembers that he’s a demon, a fact he conveniently forget to tell Eddie because… Because what? Because Eddie was just a mere human, vulnerable, weak, helpless? Did Steve think he couldn’t handle the truth? Or was he embarrassed what all the other demons would think if they’d knew he was married to a mortal?

“And you kept this from me because I'm just a weak, pathetic human? Is that it? Were you embarrassed of stupid little Eddie, who has to use a lighter to get some fire?”

Steve laughs brokenly, the sound raw and bitter and Eddie’s heart tightens as Steve's laughter echoes hollowly in the room. He waits for Steve's response, his eyes searching for some semblance of truth in the demon's gaze.

"No, Eddie, it’s not that," Steve finally replies, his voice carrying a weight of regret. "I ended things because I’m a demon. We don’t belong here. I’m only allowed on Earth for as long as a deal I have with a mortal lasts. My last one was a ten-year deal, and it ended a few days after I broke things off with you."

Eddie’s eyes widen, hurt mingling with confusion. "So, you broke up with me because your deal ended?"

"Yes," Steve admits, his voice softening, his eyes filled with a mix of regret and longing. "It was stupid to fall for a human in the first place. I didn’t plan on it, I swear, but I couldn’t help myself. Your clumsy ass was just too irresistible."

"Shut up, you love my ass," Eddie retorts without thinking, falling back into their old banter as easy as breathing.

Steve doesn’t laugh, just looks at Eddie with liquid hazel eyes that shine with a red hue if Eddie tilts his head just so. “I do. That’s why I ended things in the worst possible way. I loved you too much to drag you into my mess so I had to let you go. I hoped that it would be easier if you could just hate me.”

Eddie’s breath catches, tears welling up. “But why didn’t you just tell me?” he whispers, the pain in his voice palpable.

"I couldn’t," Steve says, stepping closer, his eyes pleading, glistening with unshed tears. “I didn’t want to hurt you more than necessary. So, I went back to Hell.”

Eddie shakes his head, trying to process everything. “Let me get this straight. You loved me… but you left. You didn’t want to hurt me… but you decided to just tell me it’s over one day, no explanation, letting me think it was my fault. That I wasn’t good enough.”

“I had to,” Steve insists, his voice breaking. “I thought it was the only way to protect you.”

Eddie looks at him, a mixture of anger and longing in his eyes. “So, what now?”

Steve sighs, looking more human than ever despite the demonic aura. “I don’t know, Eddie. I don’t know.”

Eddie’s chest tightens, too many conflicting emotions swirling inside him. “Why, Steve? Why let me fall in love with you if this was how it was going to end?”

Steve steps closer, reaching out but stopping short of touching Eddie. “Because I’m a demon, Eddie. I’m selfish, and cruel. Loving you, having you love me back, it was the best part of my existence. Even if it had to end, those years with you were worth everything. Even if I knew it would hurt in the end, I couldn’t stop myself.”

Eddie’s tears finally spill over, and he chokes out, “You left me broken, Steve. You made me love you and then you discarded me like a broken toy, leaving me wondering what it was that I did wrong, why you stopped loving me. I don’t know if I can ever forgive you for that.”

Steve’s own eyes glisten with unshed tears. “I know. I’m so sorry, Eddie. I thought I was doing the right thing not telling you. I thought… I thought it would be better for you. That you could hate me and move on.”

“Have you?” Eddie scoffs, wiping at his tears angrily.

“Have I what?”

“Moved on,” Eddie clarifies, chastising himself for the tentative hope blooming in his chest.

Steve looks down, his expression one of deep regret. “No,” he admits, “I haven’t. Not sure I’ll ever will but that was supposed to be my problem. At least before you managed to summon me with a grimoire you apparently stole from me. How did you even do that?”

“I just… took it?” Eddie has the good grace to look a bit sheepish.

With a fond chuckle, Steve’s usual reaction when Eddie was saying something silly, Steve shakes his head. “No, dummy. How the hell - pun totally intended - did you summon me from hell? That’s some serious blood magic.”

Steve looks impressed and Eddie wants to preen under it, but he also knows that it hadn’t been his magical proficiency exactly that had summoned Steve.

“It was an accident,” he mumbles, avoiding Steve’s gaze. It figured that the one time Eddie did something truly impressive, apparently, it was a drunken accident. And of course Steve couldn’t let it go, either.

“Come again? This almost sounded like…”

Burying his face in his hands, Eddie groans deep in his chest. Then he raises his arms in an exasperated gesture. “It was an accident, okay? I cut my finger on the paper. Happy now?” He adds petulantly.

Steve laughs at that. “Only you, Eddie, only you…” The way Steve looks at him with so much fondness, face soft and almost yearning, tugs at Eddie’s heart. “Actually, yeah, I’m happy your drunken ass managed something most people who tried failed at, because it means I got to see you again. I… I really missed you, Bambi.”

Eddie takes a shaky breath, trying to steady himself. “So, what happens now, Steve? Do you go back to Hell?”

Steve looks up, his eyes filled with sorrow. “Not if I can help it. I want to find a way to be with you, Eddie. For real, this time. But I don’t know how.”

Eddie’s heart aches at the sincerity in Steve’s voice, but the hurt and betrayal still linger. “I don’t know if I can trust you again, Steve. Not after everything.”

Steve nods, understanding. “I know it won’t be easy. But I’m willing to do whatever it takes to earn your trust back. To prove that I love you, no matter what.”

Eddie looks at Steve, the love and pain in his heart warring with each other. “We’ll see, Steve. We’ll see.”

With his head in his hands, Eddie’s sat on the couch, still processing the whirlwind of revelations and emotions. Steve was back, a demon, but still the man he loved. And now, Steve wants to find a way to be with him for real. The absurdity of the situation makes Eddie’s head spin. He reaches for the whiskey bottle again, but Steve gently takes it from his hand before he can take another sip.

“Hey, I think you’ve had enough of that,” Steve says, a hint of humor in his voice. “Besides, we need you sober if we’re going to figure this out.”

Eddie blinks at him, then bursts into a half-sob, half-laugh. “This is so messed up, Steve. My ex-husband is a demon, and I summoned him by accident, and now he won’t even let me drink to deal with it because he wants me to help him find a way to stay topside. What is my life?”

Steve chuckles softly, the sound carrying a mixture of amusement and affection. “It’s certainly not what you expected, I bet.”

Eddie lets out a shaky breath, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips despite the chaos of emotions swirling within him. “No, definitely not what I expected.”

As the tension begins to ease between them, Eddie gestures towards the broken whiskey bottle on the floor. “Guess you owe me a drink for cleaning up your mess,” he quips, attempting to lighten the heavy atmosphere.

Steve’s chuckle grows into a genuine laugh, the sound echoing warmly through the room. “You can hold me to that. But first, let’s figure out how to fix this.”

Eddie sighs, rubbing his temples. “Alright, demon ex-husband. What’s the plan?”

Steve looks thoughtful for a moment, then grins. "First, we need some coffee. Strong coffee. And then maybe I'll give you a crash course in demonology? See if that magical brain of yours can come up with an idea. You've always been good at thinking outside the box, and that's exactly what we're going to need."

Eddie groans, but can't help the small smile on his lips. "Fine. But if you think I'm going to let you stay here without doing the dishes, you've got another thing coming."

Steve laughs, a genuine, joyful sound that makes Eddie's heart ache with nostalgia. "Deal. Any other terms, oh, husband of mine?"

"Ex-husband. Someone decided to send divorce papers on our anniversary. I should have known you were a demon with a move like that."

All the color drains from Steve's face, his eyes widen comically. He looks so completely human now, if not for the tattoos still swirling on his skin. "Oh fuck. It's the first of May? Shit, shit, shit, Eddie, I'm so sorry! I told Vince to get the papers to you as soon as possible before I went back to hell, I had no idea he'd wait until today."

The thing is, Steve really looks devastated at the thought, his eyes begging Eddie to believe him. He knows Steve - at least he thought he did - and the man he knew wouldn't hurt him like that. Not knowingly. But he also thought that the man he knew wouldn't lie to him for years and break his heart, so what does Eddie really know? He shouldn't be trusted with life decisions, not even his own.

Suddenly he is tired of being angry at Steve. Part of him thinks this is all a dream anyway, and tomorrow when he wakes up he can go back to being angry at him and blaming him for the massive hangover he's got.

Tonight he wants to live in a world where Steve had to leave him because he's a demon and now he accidentally summoned him and is trying to help him stay here for good.

"It's okay, Steve. How about that coffee and demonology crash curse? By the way, I can't believe you never wanted to play DnD with us. You would have crushed it."

Steve gives him a grateful smile and follows Eddie into the kitchen.

"We can treat this like one of your adventures. But don't use your DM voice or whatever on me or we won't get anything done tonight."

The heat in Steve's eyes is probably hellfire, Eddie thinks as he audibly swallows. The road to hell is paved with good intentions.

Or, in Eddie's case, with drunken accidental summonings.

[dandelionxbby]

how I feel whenever someone reblogs my post and leaves rant tags

[thestobingirlie]

steve pt. 10 <3