#kid steve

[fuctacles]

Alternative kidnapping scenario idea aka a de-aged meet-ugly

Eddie's father accidentally steals a car with a kid inside. He thinks it's a great ransom opportinity and while he waits for the parents to get back to him, he orders his son to keep an eye on the boy.

Eddie feels big, feels trusted with an Importand Adult Thing.

So he puffs his chest and looks at the dumb rich kid in front of him, with his dumb fancy hairdo.

"What's your name, kid?"

"Steve," the boy huffs, crossing his arms. "You're a kid too, you know?"

Eddie snorts.

"I know the world better than you, though. I'm Eddie," he introduces himself. "Your guard for the night. Or however long your folks will take to pay us."

Steve winces at the thought. He might as well make himself comfortable in the other boy's tiny room.

[hushbats]

forget everything (and I’m starting with you)

Read on AO3 (6,955 words)

As a kid, Steve Harrington had a wild imagination and a kind heart.

The first time little seven-year-old Steve met the boy in the woods, he was sure he’d found a real-life wolf child, like that kid he saw on an episode of “In Search of …” that had been abandoned in the jungles of India and raised as a pack animal. That kid had looked a lot like the one crouched on top of the big rock in front of him now; long, untamed hair, dirt-streaked face, and old, tattered clothing hanging from his thin frame. He was clearly in dire need of a home-cooked meal or two and a good, long soak in the bath. Steve briefly wondered where his parents were, before his childish imagination took hold. Maybe, if he could befriend the boy, they could become famous and have their own documentary on TV. Maybe, they could make enough money that the boy wouldn’t have to live like an animal in the woods anymore. Maybe, Steve could make a new friend that wouldn’t judge him or call him childish or stupid. Maybe, just maybe, Steve’s parents would be proud of him and his scientific discovery, and decide Steve was worth their time after all.

Much like he remembered the people in the documentary doing, he approached with caution. He slowly lowered his toy bow and arrow he had aimed at the kid from when his sudden appearance had startled him and gently placed it on the ground at his feet. He then proceeded to raise his hands in a placating manner so as not to scare the wild child away. He remembered how the boy in the documentary didn’t speak like most people, only possessing simple words leftover from his previous life and animalistic grunts. And so, Steve began talking to the boy in broken English and exaggerated gestures, just for good measure.

His fantasy of discovering Indiana’s first ever wolf-child and going on adventure around the world with his find was immediately shattered when the boy atop the rock laughed hysterically at Steve’s attempt to communicate, clutching his sides while simultaneously trying, unsuccessfully, to keep his balance. He tumbled to the ground with a thump into a scattering of fall leaves. In the time it took the kid to brush himself off, Steve’s initial shock and disappointment quickly turned to embarrassment at his own idiocy. Here he was, proving his dad right yet again. ‘Head in the clouds and nothing between the ears’, that’s what he always said of Steve.

“Oh my God, what the hell was that?” the kid finally squawked through his giggles, clearly having no trouble communicating. There were still leaves stuck haphazardly in his tangled dark hair.

Steve’s face flushed a further shade of red and he quickly averted his eyes from the other boy to the forest floor. Steve could feel the tell-tale sting of tears behind his eyes. He wasn’t sure if it was just the embarrassment of the situation or the fact that he’d stupidly allowed himself to hope that there was some way to escape his parent’s indifference. The other boy must have sensed his destress because the laughing suddenly ceased. When Steve peeked up tentatively through wet lashes, he saw the boy had edged closer; a look of concern etched behind the dirt of his face.

“Hey? Are you okay? I won’t hurt you, I promise,” the boy cajoled. He was only a step or two away from Steve now so he could make out the boy’s features more clearly. He looked to be about Steve’s age, just a little taller maybe with the most striking big, brown eyes Steve had ever seen now they were no longer crinkled with laughter. Something about them made Steve feel instantly more at ease and ignited a warm sensation in his stomach. He briefly thought the boy might be pretty underneath all the layers of dirt, before his father’s voice in his head began yelling at him that he’s not supposed to think boys are pretty. Steve made that mistake once, and his father made sure he never made it again. He took a deep breath and fought back the remaining tears, reminded that his father wouldn’t like that either. Crying was for girls and pansies, not for tough boys like Steve. So, he pushed it all down, buried it somewhere deep inside, and responded to the boy.

Steve sniffed, “S-sorry, I just thought…you know…you were-”

“Some jungle boy,” the boy interjected with an eyebrow raised, and Steve cringed at the accuracy, “like Mowgli or something?”

The boy was still smiling and didn’t look offended like Steve would have been if their rolls had been reversed. If anything, a twinkle of amusement shone in his eyes.

“I don’t know what a Mowgli is but, yeah, I guess,” Steve shyly admitted. There was no point in hiding it. Steve was a bad liar anyway; it’s why he got beat so often. “Sorry,” he added again.

“It’s fine, I get it,” the boy shrugged it off like it happened often. “I’m Eddie by the way. What’s your name?”

“I’m Steve, and I’m seven and a half,” he replied enthusiastically, forgetting himself now that Eddie had shown him what seemed to be genuine kindness and interest. He relaxed more into the conversation with his potential new friend; all apprehension quickly forgotten. Steve somehow felt like he’d known Eddie his whole life, at least that’s how Eddie looked at Steve, like they were already best friends.

“Wha’cha doing all the way out here by yourself, Stevie?”

Stevie? No one had ever called him Stevie before. It was strictly Steven at home, and Tommy and the others called him Steve for short, but never Stevie. He thought he kind of liked it if the increasing warmness in his stomach was anything to go by.

“Just playing. My house is just over there by the trees,” Steve pointed back over his shoulder to the way he came through. It occurred to Steve suddenly that he hadn’t seen Eddie at school before. Hawkins was a small enough town that it had a single elementary school. The school was big to little Steve but he was sure he would have spotted Eddie a mile away if he was there. He was kind of hard to miss. He looked nothing like the other kids at school. He decided to ask. “Are you in the same grade as me? How come I haven’t seen you in school?”

The boy, Eddie, suddenly looked a bit forlorn; the sparkle in his eyes clouded over and his smile dropped a little. He seemed uncomfortable.

“Actually, I just turned nine and I- I don’t go to school here,” he said vaguely before quickly regaining his sunny attitude again to compliment Steve. “I really like your costume. You look rad.”

Steve, a little caught off guard by the sudden change of topic, looked down at himself. That’s right, he was wearing an Indian costume. Recently, Steve had gotten really into watching old Westerns on TV and was delighted to find that when his father discovered his new hobby he was met with encouragement; a ruffle of his hair and a ‘That’s my boy. We’ll make a man out of you yet’, rather than the usual belt across his rear and sneer of distain over Steve’s prior interests. Steve had never been so happy to have his father’s attention like that, to have anything at all in common with him, something to share with him; he was ecstatic. He looked forward to Sunday afternoons when his father was home because there was usually an old John Wayne Western on the local channel that meant his father would watch it in his den, where he’d sit back in his recliner and nurse a brandy or two after a long week of business meetings and trips. When he realized Steve had an interest in Westerns, he began to allow Steve into the den to sit on the floor next to the recliner and watch with him as long as he stayed silent and didn’t touch anything. Those moments to Steve were like Christmas and his birthday all rolled into one, but they were becoming increasingly rare lately. When there weren’t any Westerns on TV, Steve spent his days after school entertaining himself in the woods behind his house by playing what he called ‘Cowboys and Indians’. Of course, his father made it known that he was not pleased when his aunt appeared a few weeks back with a Native American costume in tow for Steve instead of the preferred cowboy one, but he’d yet to take it away from Steve.

“Oh, thanks!” Steve replied, suddenly buzzing with excitement and bending to pick up the discarded bow and arrow and dusting it off. “My aunt Patricia bought it for me. She always brings me presents when she visits. She’s super nice, but she lives all the way in Chicago, you know, so I only see her, like, once a year. I like watching cowboys and Indians on TV with my dad so that’s how she knew I’d like it. Do you like playing ‘Cowboys and Indians’?”

He’d paused in his spiel to catch his breath and to listen for Eddie’s answer when noticed the look of surprise painted across the other boy’s face. You see, Steve was a chatty child by nature. Add to this the fact that he spent most of his time playing alone and staying out of his parent’s way, it made sense that he was easily excitable when someone directed their attention to him. But Steve was old enough to realize that this was exactly the kind of thing that drove his parents and the people around him to shun him, after all ‘Children should be seen and not heard, Steven’, and now he feared he’d lose his new friend because of it too.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” Steve rushed to apologize. He couldn’t help the sound of panic that seeped into his voice. “I know I’m not supposed to talk so much. I won’t do it again. I’ll shut up; I promise.”

The other boy’s eyebrows disappeared further into his messy bangs at Steve’s frantic apology, but it quickly morphed into something Steve couldn’t quite read. All he knew was that Eddie was watching him intently. It kind of felt like he was staring into Steve’s soul or trying to read his mind. Steve waited with baited breath for the strike that inevitably came when he spoke out of turn. It didn’t come.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to say sorry to me. I liked hearing about your aunt. She sounds great,” Eddie beamed at Steve, and it felt like being wrapped in a warm blanket with a hot cocoa on a cold day. “And I do like playing ‘Cowboys and Indians’. It can’t be much fun playing it on your own though. It’s getting kind of dark now, but how about I come back tomorrow and we can play together? I’ll be the cowboy and you can be the Indian.”

Steve’s eyes lit up. He couldn’t believe his luck! The boy still wanted to play with him, even after hearing him ramble excitedly. His friends at school laughed at him when he asked them to play ‘Cowboys and Indians’ with him and called him a baby. But now, finally, Steve had a playmate that was interested in the same things as him, and he was an older boy too! This moment, rivalled the Sunday afternoons spent with his father; fast becoming like Christmas and his birthday and Easter all at once.

“Wow! You have a cowboy costume?!” Steve asked in wonder at the chances.

“No,” he shrugged, turning back to grab a long stick laying against the rock Steve hadn’t noticed before. It was a really nice stick, the kind Steve or any child with an active imagination would have hours of fun with. “But, whatever, I’ll figure something out. See you here tomorrow then?” Eddie asked, swigging the stick over his bony shoulders.

Steve nodded; his smile wide.

“Cool! See ya later, Stevie!” Eddie called out as he walked deeper into the woods.

“See ya, Eddie!”

Steve watched as Eddie battled his way through the undergrowth, beating back the brush with his trusty stick until he disappeared into the evening gloom, and wished like crazy that it was tomorrow already.

***

As soon as school finished the next day, Steve rushed home, not stopping to chat with Tommy or the others when they called out to him. He wasn’t sure what time Eddie wanted to meet him and Steve didn’t want to accidentally miss him. He had a gift to give his new friend after all.

He carried the precious cargo in a box to their meeting place in the woods wearing his full costume with his bow and arrow slung over his shoulder. It wasn’t far to the big rock from his backyard, but it took longer than usual for Steve to maneuver his way through the overgrown path with the box obscuring his view, much to his annoyance.

The niggling part of his brain that had tormented him all day, telling him Eddie wasn’t going to come and hang out with a baby like Steve, was finally silenced when he spotted the boy lying on top of the rock with one arm behind his head and the other playing with something shiny in the other, glinting in the afternoon sun beating down on him through the gaps in the trees. Little Steve thought he looked less like the wolf-child he had mistakenly thought him, and more like a mystical forest fairy this way, almost ethereal in the way the light caught his pale skin. Steve’s heart leaped in his chest and he fumbled with the box, almost dropping it. The rustling grabbed Eddie’s attention. He sat up and peered over down from his perch at a flustered Steve.

“Hey! Stevie!” he greeted loudly, pocketing his shiny toy and quickly jumping from the rock to the ground. “Whaddya think?” he asked, spinning in a circle to show off his ‘cowboy’ outfit.

Eddie still wore his ripped and dirt-streaked black jeans from the day before with a toy gun shoved into his right front pocket, but up top he wore a white button-up shirt and what looked to be a black vest from a three-piece suit like the ones his father often wore, both of which were a number of sizes too big for Eddie’s scrawny frame. Steve also noticed that Eddie had at least attempted to clean up a bit since they last met. His face and hands were mostly free of dirt, but his clothes and hair remained largely in disarray. Steve still thought he looked great, like the real rugged cowboys he’d seen in the movies, all he was missing was the hat; which reminded Steve.

“Oh, you need a hat! All cowboys have to have a hat. Close your eyes and no peeking,” Steve instructed, setting the box down at his feet. Eddie hesitated a moment, eyes darting around the clearing before grimacing slightly and squeezing his eyes shut which Steve briefly thought was odd but was too caught up in excitement to really take notice.

Steve didn’t have a cowboy hat, but he remembered last night that his father had a big, black-rimmed hat that Steve had seen him wear once when his father and mother went to a formal ball for some big charity event. His father had never worn it again and it sat in a hat box in his parent’s closet gathering dust. Steve figured his father wouldn’t miss it, and with Steve’s boyish imagination, he could easily pretend it was a real cowboy hat. He moved towards Eddie and rose on his tippy-toes to place it on his new friend’s wild, dark curls. Eddie flinched slightly but didn’t open his eyes.

“Okay, you can look now,” Steve announced.

The other boy opened his eyes and felt for the object placed on his head, laughing when he realized it wasn’t a typical cowboy hat. Steve’s self-consciousness returned at hearing his new friend laugh at his childishness, prompting him to begin again with the apologies.

“I’m sorry. I know it’s stupid. I just thought we could pretend or something … I dunno,” he mumbled, knowing there was little point in explaining it to Eddie. It had never stopped his father or his friends from ridiculing him before; in fact, it often made it worse. “Sorry.”

“It’s perfect, Stevie. Thanks!” Eddie said, patting him on the shoulder lightly, surprising Steve with his kindness. Eddie was always surprising Steve with his reactions.

“So, you ready to play?”

***

Eddie was everything little Steve could have wished for in a friend, and then some. He never laughed at Steve, only with him; no matter how stupid Steve felt for not understanding something Eddie was passionately discussing with him and asking endless questions. Steve worried that Eddie would become quickly annoyed by him like everyone else in his life, but in fact the opposite was true. Eddie seemed to be delighted by it and enthusiastically explained it in more detail, his face lighting up and arms flailing in broad gestures as he did so, making Steve’s cheeks hurt from smiling. Thanks to Eddie, Steve learned more in his short friendship with him than the boy ever had from his parents or school friends, and now he had a pretty in-depth knowledge about all kinds of cool things. Eddie knew everything! He learned how to skip rocks so that they bounced more than twice. He learned the best way to catch frogs and bugs at the pond. He also learned the names of plants and animals from Eddie as he pointed them out. He even learned how to identify and avoid poison ivy and some other dangerous plants after Eddie saved him from walking straight through a thick patch of it. He learned how to find himself a cool stick to use as a sword or a staff while off on one of their adventures after he complimented Eddie on his; the older boy helping him choose one and whittle away the unwanted twigs with a small pocket knife. Steve always wished he could repay Eddie in some way, but Eddie was a big boy and there wasn’t anything Steve could teach him that Eddie wouldn’t already know.

They quickly became an inseparable duo; a team. Steve really looked-up to Eddie, until he wasn’t just Steve’s friend; he was his hero.

Never once, in the entire time he knew him, did Steve feel anything but welcome and cared for in Eddie’s presence. He felt like what Steve imagined a real home to feel like, a real family who were always looking out for one another, and he was addicted to it. He sought out Eddie every day after school, and hung around by the big rock from early morning on the weekends hoping that Eddie would show up. Sometimes he didn’t. On those days, Steve was left to play alone in the woods behind his house, afraid to go any deeper without Eddie there. Usually, he’d be back by the next day in his waist-coat and top hat ready to play ‘Cowboys and Indians’ with Steve again, but sometimes he was gone for a while and when he came back, he came back different; subdued and very un-Eddie-like. Sometimes, not often but sometimes, there were physical differences too; faded marks or bruises on his arms and face that looked suspiciously like the marks Steve was often left with a few days after his father gave him the belt. Whenever Steve asked if he was okay, Eddie blamed his lack of coordination and spatial awareness, dismissing it as a fall down the stairs or walking into a door. And Steve had no reason not to believe him. On days like that, the boys didn’t stray far from the big rock or play games really. Eddie usually sat there in silence while Steve saddled up right next to him and tried to fill it with jokes and stories from school. Eddie was the best story-teller ever, and nothing Steve told could compare, but he always tried his best to cheer Eddie up. It was a huge achievement for Steve anytime he manged to get him to crack a smile.

One afternoon, a couple of months into their friendship, Steve finally gathered the courage to ask Eddie outright about it after he came back after a particular long stint away sporting a couple of small, angry-looking, circular red marks on his right arm. Usually, whenever the topic of conversation came around to Eddie and his life in general, the boy would flip the conversation back on Steve. And Steve, who loved nothing more than to talk, was easily distracted. And so, Steve honestly knew very little about Eddie, whereas Eddie pretty much knew all there was to know about Steve. Now that Steve was on to Eddie’s tactics, he was determined to get to the bottom of it this time because if Eddie was hurt and sad, Steve was hurt and sad. Eddie always looked after Steve, and Steve really wanted to show Eddie the same kindness.

“Where were you? It’s been a whole week of school. You’ve never been gone that long before,” Steve commented, careful to keep his voice light. “Is everything okay?”

Eddie’s hand stilled where it was doodling with a twig in the dirt. His whole body tensed.

“Yeah, everything’s fine. Just a- a family trip out of town is all,” Eddie answered, not meeting Steve’s eye. “Sorry I didn’t give you a heads up. It was kind of a last-minute thing.”

“What happened to your arm? It looks sore. Did your parents take you to get it checked?”

Eddie looked down at his arm where Steve was gesturing, brows drawn and mouth opening and closing in false starts. He seemed to be struggling to come up with a valid excuse and running out of time to make it sound natural, and so Eddie tried to laugh it off instead, though it sounded a little shakily to Steve’s ears.

“Oh, this? It’s nothing, really. I don’t even remember how I got it.”

That was probably the most blatant lie Eddie had ever told him in their short friendship. If Steve had an injury as raised and angry looking as that, he would absolutely remember how he got it. It would be seared into his brain, not just his arm. Steve thought this situation seemed awfully familiar. It wasn’t much different to how Steve acted at school that one time his teachers asked him about his sudden limp the next day after getting a note home about being disruptive in class. Eddie appeared to be afraid of something, or more likely, someone. Steve trusted Eddie with his life, and he wanted Eddie to trust him in return.

“You know, sometimes my dad gets really mad at me when I don’t do things exactly the way he wants me to or talk too much about things I like.”

Eddie’s eyes widen at Steve’s confession.

“Sometimes he just grabs me real hard and yells at me, but when I’ve been really bad, he takes off his belt,” Steve continued, his voice barely above a whisper. “You know you can tell me anything, Eddie. I promise I won’t tell anyone.”

Eddie remained silent for a moment and swallowed hard.

“I’m sorry, Stevie,” he said, pulling Steve to his side in a one-armed hug. Steve snuggled into the older boy’s side, always relishing in the affection Eddie gave so freely. “Your dad’s a piece of shit for doing that. I guess, both our dads are,” he chuckled humorlessly.

“Is he the one that did that to you?”

Eddie nodded solemnly, his expression slowly hardening. Steve had never seen Eddie angry before. It kind of scared him.

“Fuck!’ he yelled, releasing his hold on Steve. “I can’t fucking wait ‘til I’m bigger, ‘cause when I am, I’m going to make him wish he was- he was- ugh!” Eddie threw the stick he was holding and let out a sigh of frustration. “I didn’t do anything! It’s not fair. It’s just not fair!”

Steve always thought he’d deserved it when his father got angry. If he just behaved normally and kept his mouth shut it wouldn’t happen. ‘Why can’t you be more like the Hagans’ boy, huh? You’re an embarrassment, you know that?’ But maybe Eddie was on to something. Hurting people was bad. At least, that’s what his teachers always said, and the thought of hurting any of his classmates made Steve feel sick. Could his father have been wrong all along? Did Steve not deserve to be hit after all for sharing his thoughts and having the interests he had? Eddie definitely didn’t seem to think so, and Eddie is always right. Eddie always looked after Steve, and never laid a finger on him, even when he said something that would send his father into a rage. He felt safe with him, and would stay with Eddie forever if he could.

That gave him an idea.

“Maybe we could run away!” Steve said suddenly, his face lighting up in hope. “We could live out here in the woods and no one would ever find us! You know a lot about plants and fishing and stuff; I bet we could do it! We would be outlaws like real cowboys!”

Eddie chuckled fondly at Steve, but Steve’s optimism and excitement was absent in Eddie.

“Sounds great, Stevie. Maybe someday. After all, us outlaws gotta stick together, right?”

Deep down Steve knew it wasn’t really an option for them, but it didn’t stop them fantasizing and talking about it from that day on. On particularly difficult, lonely days, it was all that kept Steve going; that there would eventually come a time that he could escape the pressures inflicted on him by his father, and that Eddie would be there with him every step of the way.

Gradually, since that faithful conversation by the rock, Eddie opened up to Steve about his homelife, but only when outright asked and under the pretense that Steve promised never to tell a soul about anything Eddie said. Over time, he learned that Eddie was raised by his grandpa, his mama’s daddy, for the first few years of his life. His parents came and went during this time, and his grandpa was his best friend. It was from his grandpa that Eddie learned all the cool things he knew and passed on to Steve. It was also from his grandpa that Eddie received his most prized possession; a gold pocket watch that Steve had only caught glimpses of before then. He learned that after his grandpa died when Eddie was seven, his whole life came crashing down. His parents sold his grandpa’s house, pulled him from school and all his friends, and moved him to Hawkins to his father’s long abandoned family cabin in the woods.

His responses were still a little vague at times. At first, Steve was worried that Eddie didn’t trust him, but started to think that maybe there was something else going on, stuff happening that Eddie didn’t even understand himself to be able to tell Steve. He learned that Eddie’s parents were often sick, and when they were sick, they forgot Eddie existed, leaving him to fend for himself. When his father was well, he would take Eddie on trips out of town, usually to the city, and make Eddie do what Eddie called ‘bad things’ and beat him if he refused to do it. His parents usually became sick again after this, and Eddie would do his best to look after them and himself with the little resources they had. Steve was surprised to learn Eddie didn’t have hot water, or heating, or much food, or warm clothes. Steve couldn’t imagine a life like that, and his heart broke knowing that that was Eddie’s life; his bestest friend in the whole world Eddie.

As winter set in, and the first flurries of snow began to fall in Hawkins, Steve made it his mission to share with Eddie some of the things he took for granted. There wasn’t much little Steve could do about the lack of hot water and heating, but his house had an overabundance of food that his parents wouldn’t notice was missing, and Steve had an old winter coat that didn’t really fit him anymore that Eddie could use. Eddie had straight up refused to accept any food at first, but he gratefully took the coat that offered much better protection against the cold than a ratty t-shirt or thread-bare sweater; even if it was far too short in the arms for Eddie’s gangly limbs, it zipped up just fine. It meant they could play for longer, too. Steve tried a few times in vain to get Eddie to take food home with him; nothing fancy, just a few tin cans that were lying around the pantry within Steve’s reach and some bread or cereal, but he continued hard-headedly to refuse. So instead, Steve took to packing snacks and drinks in his bag for them to share while they played. Eddie seemed much more receptive to that, though he didn’t take much. As the weather turned colder, Steve became brave; spurred by the knowledge that he found a way to look after Eddie like Eddie did for him. He’d sometimes ask his mother to make him some sandwiches and hot cocoa to take with him for the afternoon. At first, she’d been suspicious about his request of two sandwiches and two cups, but Steve sadly knew the best way to appease his mother was to disappear, and so, he’d told her he would be outside playing longer so he needed an extra sandwich. It was enough of an incentive for her to drop the questions. It didn’t hurt as much as it used to now that he had Eddie, but it still made him a little misty-eyed. He wished his mother would dote on him like his classmate’s mothers did when they picked their kids up from school; ruffling their hair and asking how their day at school went. Some even went as far as to hug their kids at the school gate. Heck, Steve just wished his mother would look at him with a warm smile rather than the look of pure distain that seemed permanently etched on her pretty face anytime she was reminded of Steve’s existence.

A few months later, in early spring, Steve learned to view his mother’s indifference as a blessing rather than a curse. His father had returned to Hawkins for a week after a prolonged absence. His father was promoted yet again not too long ago and he had been transferred to the company’s main office in Chicago, meaning he spent the majority of his time there in a rented apartment and only returned for a few days every couple of months at his mother’s insistence. Steve hadn’t seen him since Christmas. Steve’s frequent ventures out into the woods immediately caught his father’s attention. His father only asked him once.

“Where do you keep running off to after school?”

“Nowhere. Just playing in the woods, sir,” Steve answered innocently, hoping his father would appreciate that he didn’t forget to be respectful, and decide to leave it at that. But unfortunately, that wasn’t the case.

“With who?”

The answer to this was what his father was most concerned with. He had always taken a keen interest in the type of people young Steve surrounded himself with. If they were not to the Harrington’s ridiculously high social standards, then they were quickly ousted from Steve’s friend group. Steve wasn’t sure what his father said or did to achieve this; all he knew was that his friend would suddenly start fearfully avoiding Steve at school. The friend group he had now was small and carefully selected by his father, and Steve found it difficult to connect with them. If his father knew of Eddie, then Steve knew their friendship would be over and Steve would lose the best friend he’d ever had; the only friend he had that was his.

“No one, sir.”

“Is that so?” his father replied dangerously. “Then who is this Eddie I’ve been hearing about, hm?”

Steve’s heart sank like a stone into the pit of his stomach, and his blood ran cold. How could he possibly know? Steve thought he was being so careful. He was panicking now.

“No, sir, I swear, I just play out there by myself.”

“Funny. I was over at the Hagan’s place the other day and little Tommy had a lot to say about your mysterious new friend. He said you don’t play with him much anymore after school.”

“No, there is no new friend. I- He-”

“Are you calling Tommy a liar?” his father cut in, a warning in his voice for Steve to tread carefully. “Are you calling me a liar? Because I saw you with my own two eyes, boy, out there fraternizing with the scum of Hawkins!” his father yelled, nostrils flared and a wild anger in his eyes. It was over. His father saw them together.

Steve knew it would make it worse but he couldn’t help the wracked sobs that escaped him, snot and tears trailing down his face.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Please,” Steve begged though his sobs. The ‘please don’t beat me’, and more importantly, ‘please don’t take Eddie away from me’, went unsaid.

A knock on the door saved Steve from being berated for crying.

“That’ll be the police. Steven, go to your room,” his father commanded as he went to answer the door.

The police!? A fresh wave of panic overtook Steve. He promised Eddie not to tell anyone about him and now the police were involved. On top of losing his friend, Eddie was going to be in big trouble, and it was all Steve’s fault.

“Officer Jim Hopper, Hawkins Police Department. What seems to be the problem, Mr. Harrington?”

His father moved away from the door to allow a burly man with a thick moustache enter their home.

“Yes. My son is being harassed by a no-good brat and I want you to tell that delinquent to leave my son alone.”

“Okay,” the officer replied carefully, his eyes quickly taking in the scene and lingering a moment longer on Steve, “and what is the nature of this harassment?”

“No, sir, please. He’s my friend-” Steve begged through his tears, stepping forward and pulling on his father’s suit jacket.

“Quiet, boy,” his father admonished sharply, swatting him away and turning back to the officer. “This delinquent is an older boy that has been hanging around my son and being a bad influence on him, perpetuating bad behavior at home. I want him away from my son.”

“That’s not true, sir, please. It’s not true. Eddie is my friend.” Steve was almost hysterical now and struggling to articulate himself clearly so his father and the officer won’t take Eddie away from him.

“Olivia, get your son upstairs and to his room,” his father barked.

His mother hurriedly snapped into action from her spot at the dining room door and grabbed Steve roughly around the arm.

“Come along, Steven,” she said with faux concern, dragging Steve toward the stairs as he struggled against her. Her long, manicured nails digging hard into his arm leaving blood-red marks in their wake.

“Mr. Harrington, I understand your concerns but it doesn’t sound like any crime was committed to me. Have you spoken to the parents of the child in question and tried coming to some agreement?” the officer sighed, sounding done with the conversation despite parroting the polite formalities required of his profession.

Steve struggled against his mother’s hold on the stairs, his free arm gripping the banister of as tightly as he could, and ignored her quiet coaxing. He was thankful in that moment that her fear of making a scene prevented her from yanking him too hard and yelling at him in front of the police. He tried his hardest to stifle his sobs so he could hear what was happening. Maybe he could somehow warn Eddie in time. Or maybe they could run away for real like they always talked about before Eddie could get in trouble.

“Look here, Officer Whatever-your-name-is. I don’t care what it sounds like to you. I pay my fair share of taxes just like any good law-abiding citizen. Those taxes keep you in donuts to protect us from trash like them,” his father spat, by now enraged. “So, you go over there this instant and tell those low-life Munson’s to keep their no-good spawn away from my impressionable son!”

The officer’s impassive face at his father’s rant suddenly morphed into confusion.

“Wait, wait, back up. Did you say Munson? The Munson’s have a kid?!”

“I followed that little shit back through the woods to the old Munson cabin last night. It doesn’t surprise me one bit that that filthy brat is one of them. Despicable, the lot of them.”

The officer’s face noticeably paled.

“Thank you, Mr. Harrington,” the officer said, schooling his expression and picking the formalities back up. “We’ll follow up your claim with the Munsons and ask them to keep their son away from yours. Have a good evening.”

The officer tipped his hat and left, speaking hurriedly into a radio on his shoulder as he briskly walked back to the patrol car.

It was over. There was nothing Steve could do as tears silently streaked down his face. The police would get Eddie before Steve could even try to escape. His mind began to spiral at all the possibility that he’d never see Eddie again.

His father stood affronted momentarily at the officer’s clipped tone and hasty departure. He slammed the door shut, shocking Steve back into his body. A loud, hiccupping sob escaped Steve and he started crying again.

“I thought I told you to take him upstairs,” his father snapped at his mother. “Put him to bed. I’ll be in the den.” And with that, his father walked away.

Steve allowed himself to be pulled harshly into his room and deposited on the bed where he was left to cry himself into a restless sleep plagued by nightmares of Eddie being taken away from him.

***

In the days and weeks following that night, Steve snuck out of the Harrington house and into the woods as often as he could. He waited by their rock for hours each time, hoping Eddie would appear with his boisterous laughter and wild hair, but he never did. And with each failed attempt at meeting, Steve silently cried himself to sleep - worrying about him; missing him. It hurt so much – too much; more than anything he’d felt in his seven years of life. More than that time he fell off his bike and broke his arm, and more than the beating he got from his father the day after his father confronted him about Eddie. He’d take any number of beatings if it meant he could see Eddie again and know he was alright.

As the weeks rolled into months, the hurt and hopelessness became too much to bear for little Steve. His memories of Eddie and the time he spent with him gradually became foggy. So much so, that Steve was having a hard time determining whether it was real or if Eddie had been a figment of Steve’s imagination – an imaginary friend he was growing out of. When he’d asked his mother for confirmation, she denied Steve ever knowing anyone called Eddie. He was too afraid to ask his father. He didn’t even have anything to remember Eddie by, so how could he possibly know for sure.

His father made sure to keep a closer eye on Steve and bullied his indifferent mother into doing the same, much to her reluctance. He was always under someone’s gaze; be it his parents, his teachers, his friends, or even his friend’s parents – every little thing Steve did was noted and reported on and if his father heard something he didn’t like when he was next in town, Steve would be punished, harshly. Any fight Steve had left in him to continue being himself was steadily being beaten out of him, both mentally and physically. He grew colder and uncaring – both about himself and others. Eventually, he sometimes joined in with Tommy when he started wailing on other kids in the playground after school. He started insidious rumors about his more quiet and vulnerable classmates, and slapped books from the hands of kids in the hallways as they walked to their classes if they happened to remind him too much of himself before he stopped caring. The friends pre-approved of by his father encouraged him, egging him on, giving him a celebratory thump on the back and a “nice one, Harrington”. Gradually, Steve began to fit in with those around him and all it took was for him to stop fighting, to stop caring – to adopt the same indifference his mother exuded when he was in the room with her.

In time, Steve forgot Eddie completely. He forgot the things he’d learned from him. He forgot imagination and warmth and happiness and kindness – everything Steve was.

He forgot himself.

And in the wake of losing himself, King Steve was born.

[chloesimaginationthings]

The real reason why FNAF movie Vanessa got her job,,

[runraerun]

[lovelylittlegrim]

Steve Harrington who has been trying for weeks (maybe even months) to woo Eddie and keeps failing UNTIL he makes an offhand comment correctly referencing one of the groups nerd books. Weeks and weeks of using smooth lines that have never failed him until Eddie, and this is what gets him the guy? Nerd lingo he’s learned purely through osmosis.

Steve who is just standing there like “really? That’s what did it for you? Jesus Christ I can’t believe I’m going to kiss you.”

Eddie, completely shocked by this turn of events: “you want to kiss me?????”

And the whole party is in the background like: “he has for a while thank you for finally catching up before we took drastic measures”

[that1nerd-20]

When a fanfic writer puts a nickname you think Is icky in their smut fic

[sp0o0kylights]

“Dustin isn’t coming.”

“What?” Eddie says, all frantic and jovial movements freezing instantly.

His eyes narrow on Lucas--the bearer of bad news. “Why?” 

“Family emergency.” 

Mike makes a face. “I saw his mom yesterday and she was fine, so is this a…?” 

He makes a gesture that is entirely incomprehensible to anyone who isn’t Sinclair and his terrifying girlfriend.

(At least, Eddie thinks Max is Lucas’s girlfriend this week. It got a little hard to keep up after the third break-up-make-up marathon, and he frankly, stopped bothering to try.

It helped that she barely spoke--The only time notable being when Eddie had mockingly asked Sinclair if he needed a cheerleader when she’d first sat in, upon which she’d asked Eddie if he needed new kneecaps with a look in her eye that said she was serious.)

Wheeler Jr.’s gesture however, made her put her book down.

“You think he’s having migraines again?” She not so much asked as demanded, which had Mike shrugging. 

“Dunno." Lucas says. "Dustin didn’t say.” 

“Gotta be, if he called Dustin.” Mike mutters, Lucas shuffling his papers about as he begins to set up for Hellfire. He was the last in the room, practically late, which Eddie had planned on harassing him for had he not announced Henderson’s absence. 

(Fucking freshmen. They just weren’t terrified of Eddie like they used to be.) 

 “Robin must be sick or something, otherwise he’d call her.”  Lucas finishes as he finally sits down. 

“Didn’t the Marching Band go on some trip?” Mike turns to address the rest of the table, and gets nods from Jeff and Gareth both. 

“Yeah they’re marching in some parade in Indianapolis.” Jeff confirms. 

“So his last resort was Dustin?” Max is getting that tone in her voice, the one that makes everyone at Hellfire very uncomfortable. “Typical.” 

She pushes away from the table, making a show of gathering up her things before rising easily to her feet.

Eddie trades looks with the elder Hellfire members as she makes her exit--the kind that says they’re all going to be talking about this later. 

They knew their freshmen had some weird obsession with the former King, of course, but Mayfield too?

What the hell was up with that guy?

At least Eddie thinks, right before things are once again shot to shit, they can go back to playing the game.

He can make it work this early into things, and if Henderson isn't’ a fan of what he’s about to do to the kid’s character in his absence, well. 

Maybe he shouldn’t be fucking absent then. 

“So what, Max, you're gonna go over there and make it worse?” Mike snorts. 

Fatal mistake.

Eddie almost strangles him for it, if only because it prolongs this entire unnecessary conversation. 

Max performs a military perfect heel turn, coming straight back for Wheeler Jr., which makes him right about fall out of his seat in panic. 

“What was that, Wheeler?” 

“I’m just saying--!” 

“We don’t know Steve’s having migraines.” Lucas reiterates, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Maybe it’s something else.” 

“Does Steve get migraines a lot?” Grant asks, because despite all appearances he’s a terrible gossip and gets sucked in far too easily.

Eddie throws a pencil at him for it. 

“Hel-looo, we have a game!?” He thunders, but unfortunately for him, precious Stevie-Weavies headache now has everyone’s attention. 

“Yeah, though he’s really good at pretending he doesn’t.” Lucas answers with a put upon sigh. 

“There’s a whole pattern--he ignores it until it gets super bad, then he has to call Robin or Dustin to come get him when he inevitably gets stranded at work or the like, grocery store.” 

“Well who else do you think he’d call?” Mike scoffs again. He does a lot of that, when discussing Harrington. “It’s not like his parents are--Ow, Max!” 

“Close your mouth before I close it for you.” She hisses and Mike, shockingly, does just that. 

To Eddie, she says; 

“Your ass isn’t any better, or did you forget I live across from you?” 

Eddie--who had an insult primed and ready--promptly shuts his mouth.

(Fucking! Asshole! Freshmen!) 

“Maybe I should go too.” Lucas says, hedging a look between his girlfriend and his DM. 

“No.” She snaps, pointing a finger at him.

 “If you go, then this idiot,” she flicks her finger to  Mike, “will go and then we really will make it worse. Stay here before your bichon frise has a fit about all his sheep abandoning him.”

Then she’s turning on her heel again, storming out. 

“What the hell’s a bichon frisé?” Gareth asks in the aftermath, frowning. 

“It’s a type of ahhhh--” Jeff clearly thinks better of the explanation, eyes sliding to Eddie.

Who’s scowling.

“I know what a bichon frisé is, Jeff.” He snaps. 

“I don’t.” Grant loudly complains. 

Jeff attempts to both calm Eddie and explain while Mike and Lucas spend far too many minutes looking after Max. 

“Enough!” Eddie howls, temper finally getting the best of him. “Are we playing or do you also need to go sit by the King’s bedside?”  

“Thank you,” Mike says, like he wasn’t a third of the entire problem. “Let’s play!”

They make it about ten entire minutes before getting knocked off track again. 

In fairness, not that Eddie would ever admit it--the second meltdown is his own fault.

xXx

Hellfire is Eddie’s domain. 

It’s one of the few places where he could relax without getting harassed or hounded, and having his freshmen--his!--abandon him for King Fucking Steve had set him off. 

So he’d made a few comments about it.

Maybe introduced an NPC who sounded suspiciously similar to Harrington, only to instantly kill him off. 

Made another couple of nasty comments. 

Who cares? It worked him through his snit rather nicely, and his boys all knew to leave him be.

Except, apparently, for Lucas. 

“Dude, would you lay off?”  The kid finally snaps, pencil slamming down on the table. 

Which is the most backbone-like thing anyone has ever heard Sinclair say, and he gets far more whistles for it than he should.

Eddie pins him in place with a glare. 

“What was that Sinclair?” He snarls, voice as menacing as he can make it.

(It’s pretty terrifying, he’s practiced quite a bit with it.) 

Sinclair flinches, but doesn’t back down. 

“I said lay off. Steve has migraines because of--” He stops, before seeming to come to a decision. “Because of me. He took a hit for me, and I owe him a life debt for it.” 

To Eddie, he says; “You get what those are, right?” 

Mike rolls his eyes. “It wasn’t just for you--”

“That time with Billy was!” Lucas is quick to snarl. “But you know what Mike, you’re right. It wasn’t just for me. He T-boned a car for all of us!” 

Sinclaire is on his feet now, which is the unfortunate moment that Eddie realizes he has once again lost control of the room. 

A situation he firmly blames on Steve Harrington, because he’s petty. 

“Or did you forget that part? That’s you, me, Will, Nancy and Jonathan right there! Nevermind the tunnel. Or the junkyard! 

“We had the junkyard handled--”

Lucas scoffs. 

“We absolutely did not.” 

“I don’t get why you’re all making such a big deal out of this. He’s the fighter. That’s what he does. That’s why we brought him to the tunnel.”

“You recall what happened at Starcourt, right?” Lucas challenges, furious. “You did see him after, right?” 

This, finally, seems to shut Mike up. 

“Shouldn’t you be mad at him for that?” He says after a moment, and the rest of Hellfire has completely put aside all actual gaming to watch this play out with a morbid sort of fascination. 

Eddie allows it, only because he’s trying to breathe the way Wayne taught him to before he loses it entirely and throws both of the idiot kids out of the drama room. 

“He pulled your sister into it.”

“Have you met Erica!? You can’t pull her into shit!” Lucas spits furiously. “That wasn’t D&D, Mike. It was the Upsi--real life.” 

Lucas is quick to correct himself, even in the heat of the moment--as all the kids are, like the entire school hasn’t clocked that they have some weird ass secret they’re terrible at hiding.

“And if we’re playing those games, then who pulled him into the tunnels? Who made him come to the junkyard?”

“Dustin.” Mike says snidely. 

“You don’t get to blame Dustin when Steve was the only person around.” 

“There were people around! They just weren’t people who--weren’t--who couldn’t--”

“Finish that sentence.” Lucas demands 

“Be trusted.” Mike spits out, like it hurts him. 

“Exactly.” 

“El went through way more than Steve ever has! El--”

“El was using her po--doing mage things! And also, she shouldn’t have had to go through all this shit either! We can’t rely on her to save the day every single time, Mike--and look at how hurt she gets!”

“She--”

“She hides it from you, you know. How bad she hurts. Cause she wants to put your feelings first.” 

“I--”

“Will does too.”  Is Lucas’s parting shot. His backpack is in his hands in a blink, papers and character figure shoved wildly into it, before he’s storming out the door in a poor mimicry of Mayfield.

“Harrington T-Boned a car?” Grant says, in the resounding silence. 

“That BMW of his hasn’t had a scratch on it--” Jeff says, with an inquisitive tilt to his head. 

“He didn’t use the Beamer.” Mike interrupts, angry and sulking. “Are we playing or not?”

“I’m gonna say not, given we are down two players.’ Eddie tells him through clenched teeth. 

“I’m going to be so mad if Steve doesn’t have a migraine.” Mike grumbles, as he begins packing up his stuff. 

The rest of Hellfire follow his lead, after one look at Eddie’s face convince the lot of them that it’s best to flee now, before Eddie unleashes all his pent up rage. 

“Not as mad as I’ll be, Wheeler.” Eddie promises darkly.

And it is a promise--because now, he’s going to follow all his stupid (sans Mike, who isn’t in his good graces either but at least stayed) freshmen--and go visit one fallen King.

If Harrington doesn’t have a headache now, he will when Eddie’s done with him.

[morganbritton132]

Eddie, posting to Tiktok at three in the morning: I think it’s perfectly okay if you’re a restless sleeper or you sleepwalk. That’s fine. I just think you should have goals…that’s not leaving my house.

Eddie: That makes it sound like I kidnapped someone. I didn’t. It’s just… My husband has been walking around in a circle for the last fifteen minutes

Eddie: And I want to go to bed but I can’t until he does because he has this bad habit of escaping and ending up at a hospital…or the woods.

Eddie: And yeah, I’m glad he’s not trying to break my ribs or- *flinches in surprise when a hand is suddenly shoved in front of his face*

Eddie, eyes flickering off screen: …yes?

Steve, after a long pause: Six dollar

Eddie, who adores sleeptalking Steve: For what?

Steve: Book fair

Eddie: …I have never wanted to live in your brain more than I do right now.

[lazylittledragon]

mombin pt 9!! it's been too long i'm sorry

(1)(2)(3)(4)(5)(6)(7)(8)

[kaontic]

He’s talking about the Combaticons.

[batbitten86]

elementary school teacher steve harrington who is married to rockstar eddie munson that is completely taken care of, he doesn’t need to have a job but loves teaching kids so much. he just wants to make sure these kids have a safe space because school was always his place to get away from his parents and eventually the empty house, so he uses all of the salary he gets from teaching and just puts it back into his classroom and the kids he teaches he just wants to make sure everyone feels special in his classroom. (and the kids think it’s a magic trick he’s able to get a real life ROCKSTAR to show up to his classroom to bring him flowers or lunch)

[erod-doi]

You only gotta worry about one thing.

[missjashin]

The kids think they’re pulling a funny prank on Eddie and Steve by taking the other end of the chain hanging from Eddie’s jeans and clasping it on one of Steve’s belt loops. It does backfire a little tho because it takes them waaaay too long to even notice because they’re quite literally attached at the hip.

[chloesimaginationthings]

FNAF movie Vanessa and Michael Afton fight their Dads

[steddie-as-they-come]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This'll be a fun year, Steve thinks.

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

He misses the shitheads.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Steve pulls back. "You got your license!"

"I did!" Robin jingles her keys happily.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

part two!

[shushmal]

tw: for implied past emotional abuse, im in my feels today

"What the fuck were you thinking?" Hopper growls. He's not quite shouting, but he's still loud, raised voice echoing through the living room. "She's not ready to drive yet, I forbade it, and what? You two decided that you knew better?"

Eddie rolls his eyes, but gamely keeps quiet. He knows Hopper's less upset with Ellie taking a spin through the parking lot and more upset about the property damage. Eddie's on her side though, that phone pole came out of nowhere. Must have been pretty rotted out too, to fall over that easily after a little love tap.

Ellie had done a damn good job fixing the huge dent in the bumper.

But if Hopper wants to be dramatic and chew everyone involved out, Eddie's not going to stop him. Whatever gets the guy's blood pressure back down.

"You're supposed to be responsible adults! Especially you, Steve!"

Rolling his eyes again, Eddie glances over, hoping to share a commiserating look with Steve.

Except Steve isn't looking anywhere but down, shoulders and spine ruler straight. Eddie stalls there, stuck on the way Steve's standing, tense from jaw down to his ankles, his hands balled into tight fists flat at his side, knuckles white. Hopper keeps ranting, pacing a wide circle in front of them, but Steve doesn't flinch, doesn't look up, doesn't react. It's like all the color has washed from him.

"Are you even listening?!"

"Yes, sir," Steve says tightly. He doesn't look up. Hopper keeps going.

Eddie watches as Steve's throat works to swallow, like he's choking. Like he can't breathe.

"Hopper," Eddie snaps. "Shut the fuck up."

Hopper whirls on him, livid, but Eddie's not looking at him, fixed on Steve as he reaches out. Tries to take Steve's hand, just holds his wrist when Steve can't unclench his fist, gentle as he touches him. Steve is tightly wound and trembling under his fingers.

When he looks, Eddie finds Hopper with deep regret on his face, struck silent. He doesn't say anything when Eddie leads Steve away, back out onto the porch. They sit on the swing, Eddie's arm around Steve's shoulders, rocking back and forth until the muscles loosen and Steve slumps, strings cut, into Eddie's side. They'll sit like that for a while more, watching the woods as the sun sets and listening to the dusk settle, crickets and cicadas and chats calling the moon up, filling their silence with nighttime music.

Later, Hopper will come out, temper cooled, and sit on Steve's other side. Will ruffle Steve's hair when Steve starts to stiffen. Will apologize when Steve eyes him warily.

Later, Eddie will scowl and glare, but ultimately keep quiet, unwilling to make the whole thing worse for Steve, another fight, another shouting match. Will stiltedly tell Hopper good night and take Steve home, wait patiently until Steve finally speaks, when he finally tells Eddie a little more and a little more, until Eddie's holding him tight.

That's later though. For now, he digs his heel into the porch, rocking them back and forth, and waits for Steve to breathe.