#putting the HAWK in Hawkins

[pinkkinoko]

Chibi animal mungrove, happy Easter from me and the boys✌🏽🐰🐣

[whichcouldmeanothing]

I’m home now.

FELLOW TRAVELERS 1x02 “Bulletproof”

[judehatesmaths]

Okay but

This is literally them dancing

[arbor-tristis]

When Hawk was asked if he had been in love with a man and his first thought was the image of Tim, fully clothed, looking up at him as he took off his cross.....................

[lovebunnie]

man at the end of the day, tim got a happy ending. he made the decision to finally remove himself from hawk to fully dedicate himself to a cause he felt so strongly about, he found a purpose and made peace with the idea that to love is so much more than getting loved in return. the act of giving is enough. and tim gave everything of himself to everything he did. the world was not fair to him, the people around him may have wanted him dead but at the end of the day, body and soul, he fought.

[timslaughlin]

Also, I'm kind of into the idea that Tim and Hawk came up with code words or phrases to let each other know they're on the phone and they'll be coming by shortly.

[eon-become-instant]

I've seen a few posts criticizing people for not liking Hawk and claiming that people aren't trying to sympathize with him or understand him and his situation.

Here's the thing, though - you can understand a character's motivations and feel sympathy for their circumstances while also not particularly liking them. Those two things are not mutually exclusive.

Hawk is a complex character living with a hell of a lot of fear, and I can appreciate that fact while also thinking he's a bit (or even a lot) of a dick.

He causes so much pain to everyone around him, he throws friends and strangers under the bus to protect himself, he's selfish a lot of the time, and he clearly neglects his family even though he chose them over his own happiness... He's not exactly a likable guy.

Sure, Tim isn't perfect, but the only person who seems to suffer directly from his actions is himself, except for when he is coerced into doing something shitty by Hawk. The only other person he really hurts is Hawk, and only by not being strong enough to refuse temptation and properly move on with his life.

Tim's greatest flaw is his inability to say no to Hawk or to resist temptation. Hawk's greatest flaw is... well there are too many to count really.

Viewers are allowed to have preferences regarding characters, and there are also more reasons to enjoy watching a show beyond a single relationship. "Why do you even watch FT if you don't like one of the main characters?" - I don't know - maybe because I enjoy the other characters, or the history, or the romance (even if it does include a character I don't like), or the performances, or I want to see how things turn out now that I'm invested...there is no shortage of reasons to enjoy this show, I promise you - it is bloody incredible after all.

So please, quit it with the holier-than-thou attitude of "you only dislike Hawk because you don't understand him". I'd bet most people who don't like him are smart enough to at least somewhat comprehend the reality of those time periods, sympathize with these characters, and understand why people behaved the way they did.

[taylorhawkins]

All of Taylor Hawkins’ musical projects: a comprehensive list since Wikipedia is incomplete with links!

• ANYONE

- The Sylvia Sessions (recorded 1993, released 2022)

• SASS JORDAN

- Live in New York Ninety-Four (1994)

• ALANIS MORISSETTE

- Jagged Little Pill, Live (1997)

• FOO FIGHTERS

- There Is Nothing Left to Lose (1999)

- One by One (2002)

- In Your Honor (2005)

- Skin & Bones, Live (2006) [w/ video]

- Echoes, Silence, Patience & Grace (2007)

- Wasting Light (2011)

- Medium Rare (2011)

- Sonic Highways (2014)

- Saint Cecilia (2015)

- Concrete and Gold (2017)

- Dee Gees (2021)

- Medicine at Midnight (2021)

• TAYLOR HAWKINS & THE COATTAIL RIDERS

- Taylor Hawkins & the Coattail Riders (2006)

- Red Light Fever (2010)

- Get the Money (2019)

• COHEED AND CAMBRIA

- Good Apollo, I’m Burning Star IV Vol. II: No World for Tomorrow (2007)

• THE BIRDS [Chevy Metal’s original music]

- Self-titled (2014)

• SOLO

- Kota (2016)

• NIGHTTIME BOOGIE ASSOCIATION [project with Matt Cameron]

- Long in the Tooth/The Path We’re On (2020)

• NHC [project with Dave Navarro + Chris Chaney]

- Feed the Cruel/Better Move On (2021)

- Devil That You Know/Lazy Eyes (2021)

- Intakes and Outtakes EP (2021)

• SESSION APPEARANCES & OTHERS:

- Somewhere Anywhere Everywhere - Globe Surf DVD (2007 I think) [video]

- Help Wanted - Eric Avery [tracks 1, 3, 6-8] (2008)

- Wicked In Rock - Kerry Ellis (and Brian May) [“Defying Gravity”, “I’m Not That Girl” & “No One But You”] (2010)

- Crucify the Dead - Slash & Ozzy Osbourne (2010) [Taylor credited with backing vocals]

- Tie Your Mother Down - Queen ft. Taylor Hawkins and Dave Grohl [Rock & Roll Hall of Fame Compilation] (2011)

- Sound City: Real to Reel - Dave Grohl (2013)

- Rush 2112: 40th Anniversary (2016) (“Overture” with Dave Grohl & Nick Raskulinez)

- I Refuse - Timothy B. Schmidt (2016)

- Butt Call - Derek Smalls [ft. Taylor and Phil X] (2018)

- Holy Man - Dennis Wilson demo, completed alongside Brian May and Roger Taylor (2019) [Taylor sings]

- Too Much For My Own Good - Phil X & The Drills (2019)

- We Could Have It All - P!nk (2019)

- Night Crawling - Miley Cyrus (2020)

- E-Ticket - Elton John (2021) [+ Eddie Vedder!]

- Turn Over the World - Perry Farrell (2021)

- Mend - Perry Farrell (Kind Heaven Orchestra) (2021)

- Party at the Angel Ballroom - Nancy Wilson (2021) [ft. Taylor + Duff McKagan]

- Patient Number 9 - Ozzy Osbourne (2022) [“Parasite”, “Mr. Darkness”, “God Only Knows”]

- Shame On You - Richard Marx (2022)

- Guess I’ll Go Away - Edgar Winter (2022) [Taylor sings and absolutely blows doors]

- Every Loser - Iggy Pop (2023) [Taylor credited with drums and piano on “Comments” + “The Regency”]

- Ian Hunter - Defiance Part I (2023) [Taylor is on “Angel,” “Kiss N’ Make Up,” and “This Is What I’m Here For”]

[before-the-black-pearl]

Faceclaim for Tim Hawk before I make any memes. I just didn’t feel like drawing him lol

[clarii]

Three times

Summary: For more than a year, you’ve had a huge crush on Eddie Munson, but after being rejected three times when you gather the courage to ask him out, you finally decide to stop trying. As you distance yourself, Eddie struggles with his feelings and how to approach the girl he believes is out of his league.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Angst, heartbreak, unrequited feelings (initially), fluff at the end, happy ending. Pretend the song choice came out earlier in this story timeline.

First time

The air was warm and filled with excitement as the school year at Hawkins High wrapped up. You were leaning against your car, trying to calm your racing heart while watching Eddie Munson dig through his messy van. You'd had a crush on him for ages; the way he commanded attention with his loud personality and wild hair was just incredible. But underneath all that chaos, you saw how kind he was, especially with his friends in Hellfire Club.

Gathering your courage, you finally called out to him. “Eddie!”

He looked up, a bright smile appearing on his face. “Hey, sweetheart! What’s up?”

You took a deep breath, fiddling with your backpack strap. “I was wondering if maybe you’d want to hang out sometime? Just the two of us?”

Eddie’s smile faltered slightly, and a silence stretched between you. You felt your stomach drop. Finally, he rubbed the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable. “Uh, I’m a bit busy right now with Hellfire stuff and… you know, campaigns to prep. Maybe another time?”

You forced a smile, nodding quickly. “Yeah, of course. No worries.”

But inside, it hurt. You had put yourself out there, and he didn’t seem interested.

Second time

A few months later, it was October, and you decided to hang back more after Hellfire meetings, hoping for a moment with Eddie. Tonight, as everyone packed away the game's pieces, you felt a spark of hope again.

“So, Eddie,” you started casually while everyone else filtered out. “There’s a showing of The Thing at Hawk’s Theater this weekend. I thought it’d be cool if we went together?”

Eddie stopped mid-movement, his eyes darting around the room as if looking for an escape. “Ah, man. I’m kinda not… dating right now. Just got a lot on my plate, you know?”

Your heart sank. You nodded quickly. “Yeah, that’s okay. Just thought I’d ask.”

But deep down, you were starting to feel defeated. What was wrong with you? You were just trying to reach him, but it always felt like he was brushing you off.

Third time

The day after one of Eddie's band performances at The Hideout, your friends Steve and Robin convinced you to go. You watched as he poured himself into the music; he was electric on stage. Afterward, as the crowd began to thin, you took a chance and made your way to him, holding a bottle of his favorite cherry cola.

“You were amazing tonight, Eddie!” you said, trying to keep your voice upbeat while passing the drink to him.

Eddie smiled wide, his cheeks flushed as he accepted the drink. “Thanks, sweetheart! I’m glad you came out.”

This was your chance. “I was thinking… maybe we could grab burgers after this? My treat?”

But again, Eddie's face fell. “Oh, um, I’m just not looking for anything complicated right now. Sorry.”

Your heart sank even further. You gave a quick nod, forcing back the disappointment. “Okay. I understand. No problem.”

That was it. Three times, you put yourself out there in hope that he would change his mind. You couldn’t keep trying anymore. You turned away, feeling like you wasted your time on a guy who clearly didn’t want you from the beginning.

————-

You started avoiding him, skipping Hellfire meetings and not going to his gigs. It was easier that way, or so you thought. You tried to fill your time with friends, but the emptiness lingered. But, you still continued to do anything to erase the embarrassment and time that you used on him.

Meanwhile, Eddie felt horrible. In school, he acted cool, lazing back in his chair, but inside, he was a mess. Ever since the first rejection, it was eating him alive to even say an excuse. He could pretend for a while, but without you, he felt incomplete.

———-

One evening, Eddie found himself at home with Wayne, lying on the couch, staring at the ceiling, lost in his thoughts.

“Alright, son. Spill it,” Wayne finally said, breaking the silence.

“What?” Eddie replied, half-heartedly.

“Don’t give me that. I know something’s bugging you,” Wayne pressed.

Eddie sighed, rubbing his face. “It’s this girl, okay? She asked me out a few times, and I said no. Now she’s stopped talking to me, and it hurts.”

Wayne gave him a serious look. “And you’re upset because…?”

“I didn’t want to say no at all. It’s just…. I don’t know….She’s perfect. Funny, smart… and I just… I didn’t want to mess it up. She’s the most perfect girl who could have anyone in this world but I don’t know why she keeps coming back to me .” His voice cracked, frustration bubbling to the surface. “I was scared. Scared that I would ruin the best person to ever enter my life.”

Wayne raised an eyebrow. “Scared? You’re messing it up more by pushing her away. You keep mentioning how she’s perfect but what if in her point of view, she doesn’t see herself like that. What if she sees you as the most perfect person ever and you are ruining your chance at true happiness and love. You said she asked you a few times, right? Then why are you sitting here all sad? When you can do something about it? Be the brave one finally and get her back.”

Those words stuck with Eddie. He left Wayne’s place with a renewed sense of purpose. He had to fix things.

——

A few minutes, Eddie found himself rushing inside Family Video to met up with Steve and Robin. “I need your help,” he said, bouncing up and down in determination .

“Help with what?” Steve asked, grabbing a movie from the floor.

“I…I messed up with Y/N and I need to show her how I feel,” Eddie explained, his confidence building. “I want to ask her out but I want to make it big. She deserves it especially after everything.”

Robin leaned in, her eyes sparkling with ideas. “I have a plan that could work!”

The group spent the hours brainstorming, and after much chatter, they settled on a surprise performance at The Hideout. You’d be there, like before, and this time, Eddie would sing a song just for you.

“I’ll do ‘Can’t Take My Eyes Off You,’” Eddie declared, excitement coursing through him. “It’s her favorite.”

————-

When the night arrived, you were out with Steve and Robin at The Hideout, not suspecting a thing. The atmosphere buzzed with energy. When Eddie walked on stage, you couldn’t take your eyes off him. Naturally, you never could even after he hurt your feelings.

As the first chords of “Can’t Take My Eyes Off You” rang out, your heart raced with a mixture of joy that your favorite song was being played . The way he strummed the guitar and sang softened you. Eddie's voice was raw and emotional, resonating with every word.

As he sang, his eyes locked onto yours, and he filled the room with his sincerity. It was clear he meant every word, and you felt your heart swell with hope.

“I can’t take my eyes off you…” he crooned, glancing at you with a look that was both shy and bold. “You’re just too good to be true…”

As the final notes echoed, your friends cheered, but Eddie was focused just on you as he stepped forward, heart racing. “I know I messed up. I was scared and a total idiot for not giving us a chance. It’s just I couldn’t believe a girl as perfect as you wanted to be with a guy who isn’t. But I want to try now, if you’ll have me. I want to take you to every place you want to go. I don’t care if I have to send a lot of money, I truly don’t have but as long as I got you. Can you please forgive me?”

Your heart soared, and without thinking, you rushed forward, wrapping your arms around him. “Of course, Eddie! I’ve been waiting for you and wouldn’t mind if I have to wait a little longer because you are the perfect one for me!”

As you pulled back, Eddie smiled brightly, relief washing over him. The band continued to play the melody softly in the background, giving you two a moment.

With the excitement and relief bubbling between you, you leaned in and kissed him, finally closing the distance. It felt magical, like everything had fallen into place at last.

As you pulled away, laughter erupted around you, and despite the audience, none of it mattered. It was just you and Eddie, ready to embrace whatever came next together.

The End.

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @steddiebingo and @steddiesongfics.

When I Think About Seventeen

Countdown to Midnight Prompt: Ball | Steddie Song Fics Prompt: New (Springsteen by Eric Church) | Word Count: 2795 | Rating: T | CW: Language, Sexual Innuendo | POV: Eddie | Tags: Baseball, Big Dreams, Canon Divergent Interactions: Childhood, Post-S1, Post-S4, Time Skips, Eddie Munson Lives, Crossing Paths Over The Years, Acquaintances to Friends to Lovers

Also right here on ao3.

I bumped into you by happenstance, You probably wouldn't even know who I am, But if I whispered your name, I bet, Still be a spark, And back when I was gasoline, And this old tattoo had brand new ink - Springsteen, Eric Church

1974

Eddie wiggles his four fingers, calling the pitch from behind the plate. A change-up. Harrington's the only pitcher on their team that even has different pitches. With everyone else, Eddie just needs to try and catch whatever wild throw comes free of their hand as they pretend they did it on purpose. 

Not Steve Harrington, though. Steve can place the ball, and it's no different today when the championship is on the line.

Steve nods, accepting the call Eddie's made.

The final pitch hits Eddie's mitt, a strike, the third out. 

It's over, the Hawkins Hawks are finally done for the summer.

And Eddie's done forever.

The rest of the team is jumping all over Steve Harrington on the mound, Tommy Hagan hanging off him, as they all wait for their little gold trophies, and Eddie waddles back to the dugout. He starts stripping off his catcher's gear. The leg guards, and the chest pad. It's all borrowed, not his own, and never quite fit perfectly, anyway.

He lays it in the corner, up next to the chain link fence near the bats. Coach will take it, get back where it needs to go.

Because he's done.

Eddie promised Wayne he'd make it through the season, and he did that. 

But now he's done.

He doesn't like these boys, or this sport, not anymore. And he's not going to force himself to play next year.

Or ever again, for that matter.

He exits the dugout, not sticking around for the trophy presentation or the group picture. 

Wayne doesn't try to make him, just puts an arm around his shoulders as they walk towards his truck. 

"Proud of you, kid. You did it," Wayne says.

Eddie did do it, and now he'll never have to do it again.

1984

Someone is playing Springsteen. Loudly. Eddie doesn't recognize the songs, but the voice, definitely. School's out for summer. Eddie should be done for good, but he failed his senior year and now he's moping about it. 

There shouldn't be anybody at the school right now. He's only here because he had a meeting at the picnic table earlier, and just stayed to draw some. But now Eddie stands near the edge of the woods, and watches Steve Harrington practicing all by himself. He's pitching into a net, and then having to collect all the baseballs himself before starting the whole process over again.

This goes on for several rounds, until Eddie finally can't take it. He's too nosey. 

"What are you doing?" Eddie hollers, and Steve jumps, clearly having no idea he wasn't all alone on the field. His head whips around, looking for the voice that startled him.

"Goddamn, you scared me, Munson," Steve says, when he lays eyes on him, finally.

Eddie chuckles, walking across the field towards him, "Isn't baseball over?"

Steve nods his head, "Yeah. I just…"

"What?" Eddie prods. There's no way Steve Harrington is worried about his starting position for next year. It's summer. He should be playing Babe Ruth, and enjoying his last summer league season before he ages out. Even with whatever weird vibes he's got with Tommy Hagan and the rest of the asshole jocks these days. Eddie has eyes. He knows something is up with all of them.

Eddie doesn't give a shit about sports, the jocks and their problems, but even he knows that Steve Harrington is captain of the swim team, a basketball starter, and has been the starting pitcher since before Eddie got dumped in town.

This is all non-negotiable.

"They're having exhibition baseball at the Olympics this summer."

Eddie laughs, "And you thought, what? As a high school pitcher from Hawkins High, you'd be a shoe-in?"

Steve laughs at that, "No. Not at all. I just, well, what if it isn't an exhibition in 1988? Or 1992?"

Eddie can't argue with that. It's a lofty dream, but shit, Eddie's got some pretty absurd dreams himself. But as far as Eddie knows, Steve isn't even being recruited for college baseball, or anything else for that matter, so the Olympics seem a little far-fetched.

"Well, good luck, I guess?" Eddie says, and turns to head back towards his office in the woods.

"Hey, wait. Would you want to catch a few pitches?"

Eddie thinks Steve must have lost his mind. 

"I don't know anything about baseball, Harrington."

Steve cocks his head to the side, looking more like a confused dog than anything else, "You didn't catch for me?"

Eddie nearly chokes. He'd catch for him, all right, and all the filthy jokes rattle through his brain, like a rapidly fluttering Rolodex, where he can't decide which one to choose. Which one would make Harrington stumble over his words and blush and–

"In Little League. When we were kids? That a different Eddie Munson?" 

Instead of any of those witty comebacks, what comes out is, "You remember that?"

Steve laughs, and offers up a grin, "Was I not supposed to? You were the scrappiest catcher I've ever played with. Nothing snuck between your legs."

Well, that's an image.

Eddie thinks he might be the one blushing. Sports weren't for him. But it's true, balls rarely hit the dirt with him behind the plate. He gave it up because he hated the team aspect. Hated the other boys, and never really felt like he belonged with any of them. Not after losing his mom. Not after moving to this shitty town where the only bright spot has been Uncle Wayne.

But he was good behind home plate.

His own island. Them, all facing one way, and him facing the other.

Seems apt, maybe even more so today.

"I'm sure I'm rusty," Eddie answers, because, you know, it might be fun to see if he's still got it. Just for a minute. What could it hurt, besides his ego and pride? He just failed high school. Those things have already been trampled into the dirt.

"Rusty's fine. You gotta be better than the net," Steve teases, and digs through his baseball bag until he finds a catcher's mitt, tossing it to Eddie.

Eddie squats down, getting into the stance he hasn't been in, in a long time. He pounds his fist into his glove and really hopes he doesn't take one square between the eyes.

Or in the shin. That fucking hurts.

Or, god forbid, his nuts.

He doesn't.

It's like riding a bike. Steve throws strike after strike, dead-on, and Eddie catches them. Steve's better now. Can throw faster. Harder. But Eddie still keeps up. It's muscle memory, even if those muscles haven't been used in a very long time.

"What is this?" Eddie hollers, as Springsteen shouts about baseball and glory days. It's all very on the nose. 

"Springsteen," Steve hollers back.

"No shit, Harrington. What album?"

"Oh," Steve says, "I stopped by Klein's today and bought it."

Steve reaches down and grabs the tape case and brings it over to Eddie. It's Springsteen's ass in blue jeans, a hat shoved in his back pocket. Eddie's pretty up to date on music, all music, and he's never seen this in his life.

"Is it new?"

"Yeah, out today," Steve says, taking it back.

They reset, Steve throws him another fastball, and Eddie throws the ball back again. It hurts a little, he'd just gotten a new tattoo over the weekend. Black bats, stark against his skin, on this throwing arm. He ignores it.

Then, Eddie calls pitches. Sometimes Steve will agree, and sometimes he'll argue silently. Holding up his glove, waving it to indicate what he wants to throw. Eddie lets him. This is his rodeo. Eddie's just along for the ride.

They play, and Eddie feels ten years old. It's actually kind of fun. He's not into sports, not anymore, but there's no pressure here. Just the two of them. Batterymen.

It all ends when it finally gets too dark to see. 

"I know it's a pipe dream," Steve says, soft and low as they pack up the equipment, "I just need out of this town."

Eddie glances over at him, "Me too, Harrington. Me, too."

They part ways, and Eddie doesn't really think about Steve Harrington again until two years later, when he's in a boathouse, running for his life, a broken bottle pressed to Steve's neck.

He lives, they all live, and then part ways.

Such is life, he supposes.

1996

Another bar, another gig on this never ending van tour they've been on for years. It's not good money, but they can make a living playing music, and not everyone can say that. They've been making it work for several years, and they'll keep at it until the wheels fall off.

They aren't famous, will never be famous. But that's okay. They get to do what they love.

Eddie looks up at the television mounted on the wall behind the bar, and it's the Olympics. Baseball.

He smiles, because it suddenly makes him think of Steve Harrington. Makes him think of him at seventeen, at nine, at nineteen. He wonders if he made it. Wonders if he's doing what he loves. Wonders if he'd even remember Eddie if they ran into each other. It's been ten years.

"Hey, it's baseball," Eddie says, and the guy behind the bar chuckles.

"It is."

"Is there, like, a lineup? Who's pitching for the US?"

The guy next to him turns, like he's been waiting for this his entire life. He starts listing off players, and where they're from, what colleges, giving far more information than Eddie wants, but Eddie quickly realizes they're all about twenty-one. College kids, headed for the draft, maybe. 

Steve's nearly as old as him.

There are definitely no thirty-year-old former high school pitchers on Team USA.

Eddie's a little disappointed, and he doesn't know why. It wasn't his dream. He's living his dream. He just thinks Steve should have gotten to live his, too. That's all.

He sits down on the open stool, then gets right back up again, heading to the payphone stuck in the back corner of the bar. He calls Henderson.

"You got a number for Harrington?" Eddie asks, not giving the kid a chance to get wound up about the fact that he hasn't heard from him in a while.

Henderson harasses him, of course he does, but he still coughs up the digits and Eddie drops more change into the slot, then dials.

Steve answers, and Eddie doesn't even greet him, just asks, "What are you watching?"

"Baseball. The Olympics. The United States is trouncing Japan." 

Steve doesn't ask who Eddie is, but Eddie knows he already knows.

"Well, that's funny. Me too. And I wondered if Steve Harrington was their pitcher."

Steve laughs, "Definitely not. I can't believe you even remembered that. That was dumb."

It wasn't dumb, and of course Eddie remembered. He's never forgotten anything about Steve Harrington, especially not after that spring break. He saved his fucking life, and then waved it off like it was nothing.

It wasn't nothing. It was everything.

"You still play?" Eddie asks.

"Baseball? Well, I'm on a co-ed slow pitch softball team with Robin. She's still so uncoordinated, it's ridiculous. Nothing's changed there. But it's fun."

Eddie laughs, "Oh, that hurts my knees to think about."

Steve Harrington giggles in his ear, and Eddie's glad he called. Glad he saw that baseball game and thought of him.

They lull into a bit of silence, and Eddie wonders if this is wrapping up. If it's gonna be over as soon as it started.

"Well, if you're ever in town, come play catch with me. We'll catch up."

Eddie laughs, but mocks his bad pun, "That was awful."

Steve doesn't care. Just laughs like he's absolutely delighted that Eddie called.

Eddie decides he wants to cover Glory Days during their set, and the band goes along with his whim without asking questions. He sings about his friend that was a baseball player in high school, and the band has to know what this is about. 

When he transitions into I'm on Fire, he knows he'll get shit, but he doesn't care. He's gonna sit in this nostalgia for a minute. He's got a bad desire.

A couple months later, fall is cooling everything down, and the band finally have a long enough break to justify venturing away from each other, and he finds Steve in another small town, not all that different from Hawkins. Except, the bad memories aren't tainting it. It's nice. The town, his house.

Eddie climbs the steps to the porch, and knocks. Steve's not expecting him. He might not even be home. But the door opens, and Eddie just holds up his mitt.

The smile that crosses Steve's face is blinding, and Eddie has butterflies. It's unexpected, but not really. Steve swings open the screen door, letting it snap closed behind him, as he yanks Eddie into a hug, like this is something they do.

Maybe it is.

Eddie hugs back. Steve Harrington is an old friend of his, somehow. Ten-year-old Eddie, who hated everything about that damn baseball team, wouldn't believe this turn of events.

Steve ushers him inside, and digs his glove and a ball out of his hall closet.

In his nice, fenced-in yard, Eddie's knees crack when he gets into his stance, and he laughs. He's a rough thirty-one. He knows that. Muscles gnawed away at by bats doesn't leave you exactly the same, Steve knows that, too, but Eddie thinks he's still capable. Maybe. But when that first pitch hits Eddie's hand through leather, Eddie feels at home in a way he didn't even know he could. Not anymore.

Eddie tries to call a pitch, and Steve keeps shaking his head. Fine.

Steve winds up, and the ball seems to float, doing unpredictable shit, before Eddie's able to snag it at the last second.

"Was that a fucking knuckleball?!" Eddie yells. Steve didn't have a knuckleball at nine, that's for damn sure. And he didn't have one at seventeen either, at least not that he showed Eddie during that one, weird afternoon.

"Maybe," Steve teases, coyly. 

"You're trying to trip me up with a passed ball, ruin my stats, is that it?" Eddie accuses, but he's grinning. "Not on my watch, asshole."

Steve just grins, "Well, don't worry. You still got it, old man. We were always a pretty good battery. You and me."

They were. Eddie smiles, and throws the ball back. 

Maybe they've both still got it. Together.

Eddie catches a few more, then stands up, "You got a boombox?"

Steve nods, and they lay down their mitts and go inside. Eddie squats in front of Steve's rack of CDs. Not tapes, not now. Times have changed.

"What are you looking for?" Steve asks.

"Mind your own business, Harrington," he quips and Steve shakes his head.

"Fine, I'll take this out. If you find something acceptable, you bring it on out."

They aren't in any order that Eddie can discern, but finally finds what he's looking for. He knew he'd have it. At least, he hoped he would.

Outside, Eddie shoves it into the top of the boombox. Then he advances through until he gets to track ten. Steve just looks amused, and then he laughs when The Boss's voice fills the air.

"Seems fitting. I, too, had a high school friend that played baseball."

Eddie squats, and his knees don't betray him this time, but Steve's just standing there, looking at him. Not throwing the ball.

Eddie pats his glove. Only short of offering him an engraved invitation to throw the ball.

Steve just looks at him.

"What?" Eddie asks. But he knows what. That look on his face. Eddie understands that look. A hungry heart.

Oh shit.

Eddie swallows.

Steve throws his glove to the ground, and stalks towards him. It should look intimidating, but it doesn't. Eddie knows what's about to happen, and falls back onto his ass in the grass.

Steve sinks to his knees, and then crawls forward, leaning in, and he's gonna kiss him. He's gonna do it. Eddie reaches up, sliding his hand into Steve's hair, inviting him to please do.

And then he's kissing Steve Harrington, lips, tongues as Steve presses him back into the grass, covering Eddie's body with his own. Eddie lets his thighs fall open, letting Steve slot in between his legs, and goddamn.

He didn't.

He hoped.

But he didn't actually expect this. 

Eddie can't believe it is happening. Him and Steve Harrington. Though, it seems kind of fitting that The Boss is currently growling out of the speakers that you can't start a fire without a spark.

And what a spark this is.

If you want to sign up for a future bingo event or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddiebingo and @steddiesongfics and follow along with the fun! ⚾

Notes: If you aren't an Olympic junkie, baseball has always came and went. And in 1984 it was back, after a twenty year hiatus. So, the first time in Steve's lifetime. At first I was like...maybe? Pros still couldn't play in 1996, but then I really looked at that 1996 roster. They really were all about 21 years old, born between 1974-1976. The oldest, the catcher, was born in 1973. So, Steve was just too old. I was like, could he coach?? And even that seemed far-fetched, so I went this way, which I think turned out far more realistic, anyway.

Lots of Springsteen references abound in this one, lol. Born in the U.S.A. came out June 4th, 1984. It had the song of the same name, Glory Days and Dancing in the Dark, on it.

[pinkkinoko]

So happy I could finally make a physical representation of the idea that has been haunting me since I first made Eddie call Billy “tiger”🐯

[hellfirenacht]

Crit Happens: Session 0

Fic Summary: You are who’s Dustin’s favorite cousin from out of town who is staying with him for the summer. Eddie finds himself jealous as he's suddenly been pushed aside as Dustin’s favorite dungeon master. When Dustin insists that Eddie join the campaign, you and Eddie quickly butt heads about how Dungeons and Dragons should be played.

Master List

2.2k words

May, 1986

Session 0

The air in the drama room was hot and stagnant as the members of Hellfire held their breath. One Erica Sinclair held the D20 between her palms, shaking her cupped hands together, while everyone stared at her in anticipation of the drop that would tell them if the campaign that they had been working through all semester had been for naught. 

Eddie’s eyes narrowed and he found himself standing taller to look over his DM screen as the die fell from her grasp, tumbling and rolling to decide the fate of the party. Two weeks ago, he had damn near thrown a fit over the idea of pushing back the finale of The Cult of Vecna out by a week, but he was no longer regretting that decision after spending his spring break working and reworking his notes until he was ready to kill Vecna himself from the frustration. 

The older Sinclair stood behind his sister, gripping her shoulders tightly, while Dustin and Will held Lucas’s. Actually, if Eddie hadn’t been staring so hard at the die as it clacked along the squares of his map, he would have seen all of Hellfire cleaning to each other, and he would have absolutely made fun of them. 

Not now though. 

The die hit the small podium that Eddie had spent an afternoon putting together to set Vecna on top of. The mini-fig shifted just slightly under Eddie’s hawk-like gaze before toppling over. A fitting end as the die settled on the magic number. 

“Nat 20!” Erica yelled, smiling wide with an excitement for the game that made Eddie nostalgic for his days as a player. Immediately, the room erupted in cheers and jumping as the members of Hellfire celebrated. 

Eddie jumped up, and clapped his hands, hardly able to believe what he was seeing.

Two weeks ago, Lucas begged him to postpone Hellfire. Two weeks ago Lucas had told Eddie that he could guarantee a passing grade for O’Donnels if he would postpone this one time. Lucas swore that he could get Eddie the best math tutor in Hawkins. 

Now, said tutor had just rolled a Nat 20 and was being hailed as a hero amongst the party that Eddie had been guiding for the past school year. 

It could have brought a tear to his eye, knowing that Hellfire had beaten his campaign, and now he was set to walk the stage in a week to graduate. 

“That’s why we play!” Eddie declared, dramatically bowing to Erica, who stood proud as the rest of the group high-fived and jumped around. 

“Erica, you’re joining Hellfire officially when you get to high school, right?” Will asked. 

“We’ll see if I want to join this nerd club in a year.” Erica said, as if that hadn’t been part of the deal with Eddie postponing Hellfire for Lucas’s game. 

The night wound down, as members reluctantly were picked up by their parents. Eddie himself was stalling as he cleaned up the board for the last time. He had always known that this day would come, that there would be a last Hellfire meeting, a final campaign, one last adventure. He knew that, but never really believed that it would happen until he was folding up his DM screen and sliding it into his beat up backpack. 

Eddie already promised himself that he wouldn’t ever enter the grounds of Hawkins High again once that diploma was in his hands. There had been talk amongst his band-mates about setting up a game for just Corroded Coffin, but nothing set in stone yet. 

He watched as most of the group headed up the stairs and towards the door, until it was just the freshmen huddled in a corner and whispering to each other in a hushed and excited tone. 

Curiosity got the better of Eddie, it always did. He walked over to the little sheep and crossed his arms. “And what’s the big secret?” he asked. 

The boys jumped slightly, and they all looked like they were stuffing something in their pockets or subtly trying to hide something, which only made Eddie more curious. 

“We were just deciding who was going to be the dungeon master next semester!” Mike said, a little too fast, but it was a good alibi for now. The older members of the band had never shown too much of an interest in running the game, but Eddie knew that Mike and Will had swapped around being the DM long before joining Hellfire. 

This did interest Eddie though, and he was willing to ignore whatever secret that the children were holding for the moment. He knew this was an important decision for the fate of the club. “And who among you thinks they are worthy of being my successor?” He asked, crossing his arms over his chest. 

Dustin took a step forward. “I do.” he said.

Eddie’s lips stretched into a grin as he looked down at his favorite freshman (though he’d never admit it out loud). Had it been up to Eddie, he would have picked Henderson himself. Maybe Will was a close second, with his passion for the game above all else. 

“So, Dustin the Bard thinks that he is good enough to tell the tale of Hellfire for the future generations?” Eddie asked. 

“I know I’m good enough.” Dustin replied. “I learned from the best.” 

Eddie hadn’t expected such a sentiment from the kid, and for a second his expression softened. For the past year, Dustin had constantly talked about how great and amazing Steve Harrington was, practically worshiped the jock much to Eddie’s confusion. But knowing that Dustin really did think highly of him as well, melted a part of Eddie’ cynical old heart. 

“When is she coming in anyway?” Will asked, looking at Dustin. 

...Who?

Dustin’s head snapped over at Will with a glare, the Byers kid had a shit eating grin. 

“She’ll be coming in next week.” Dustin said through his teeth. “But that’s not important right now.”

Eddie didn’t consider himself a nosy person, but he was. He was about to leave Hawkins High and Hellfire forever, and these children were being cryptic and weirder than usual. 

Dustin turned back to Eddie. “I’ll be running the next campaign.” he tried again. “I already have a lot of ideas.”

“Well, Henderson, you’re in luck.” Eddie said. “I’ll have some free time on my hands this summer, I think if you’re going to live up to my legacy then you should at least get the proper training.” 

Eddie’s mouth was going faster than his brain with the idea. It’s not something that he would have offered to anyone else, and truth be told he didn’t know why he was suddenly feeling the need to hang out with anyone other than his band over the summer.  

It didn’t have anything to do with the fact that after he had that diploma in hand he would be even more lost than he was within the walls of this prison of a school. Nothing to do with Wayne talking about getting him a job at the plant after graduation or the fact that suddenly Grant, Gareth, and Jeff had summer plans with their families which would cut into Corroded Coffin’s rehearsal and stage time. 

No, it had nothing to do with any of that. It was out of the kindness of Eddie’s heart that he was willing to guide his sheep into one last adventure to prepare them for the new year and new challenges that they would have to face without the mean and scary freak of Hawkins High protecting them. This was all only for the future of Hellfire. 

Dustin looked confused, looking to Mike and Lucas for support but they looked like they were holding back laughter. 

Were they laughing at Eddie? After all he’d done for them over the past year? Keeping them relatively safe from bullies, letting them join Hellfire?

Lucas slapped Dustin on the shoulder with a smirk. “See you later. Good luck.” he said before him, Mike, and Will practically bolted up the stairs and out the door. 

This kept getting weirder and weirder. 

“So you want to train me...?” Dustin asked, turning his attention to Eddie after nearly setting the staircase on fire with his glare. 

“Think of it like ‘Dungeon Master Boot Camp’.” Eddie said, though he sounded more confident than he felt after that weird exchange. 

He couldn’t fully blame the freshmen either, it’s not like he had ever asked to hang out with them outside of school or Hellfire. The closest had been Grant’s birthday party, and the two times they had all gone to the arcade together as a club. 

“About that I- uh.” Dustin was holding onto a piece of paper in his hands, fiddling with it. “I’ll actually be living with the person who taught us D&D this summer and they said that they’d help me- but you can help,too!” 

Eddie’s face must have betrayed some form of emotion with how quickly Dustin had added in that last part. He tried to brush off that odd feeling of disappointment, it didn’t matter anyway. This was just something Eddie was offering to kill time during the summer due to boredom. No other reason.

“And who exactly taught you to play?” Eddie asked, crossing his arms. It was no secret that the kids knew how to play before joining Hellfire, but he had always assumed that they had learned the same way he had; by sneaking into bookstores and libraries and writing down as much of the rules as he could until he could finally put together enough money to buy his own copy of the players handbook. It hadn’t occurred to him that someone would have taught anyone in that group. 

“My cousin.” Dustin said. “She doesn’t live here, but she used to come up for summer break before going to college. My cousin was the one to bring me the books and got me into the game and then we just played a campaign every time they visited.” 

There was something about the way Dustin was talking that made Eddie feel like he was trying to hide something from him. 

“And so this cousin of yours is coming back to visit for the summer and will be, what, teaching you how to play again?” Eddie raised an eyebrow. 

“No! No, she’s just gonna run a campaign for us!” Dustin said, incredulously before sighing and showing Eddie the piece of paper that everyone had been poorly trying to hide. He snatched the paper out of Dustin’s hand and looked it over. 

It was about the size of a chocolate bar, with ADMIT ONE TO THE CARNIVAL OF LOST SOULS on the front. When flipped over, it looked like an invitation to some sort of demented carnival, with doodles of ghosts and gross clowns and rancid looking carnival food. Dustin's’ address was scrawled in a drippy red ink across the back as well as a date and time. 

Eddie was both impressed and confused. 

“What is this?” 

“That’s the invitation we all got to be part of the campaign.” Dustin said. “My cousin really gets into theme.” 

Eddie kept looking at the ticket. It glowed just slightly in the dim light of the drama room. Was that glow paint? 

Yes. Yes it was. 

“Carnival of Lost Souls.” Eddie read slowly. Was that a new module? 

“It’s an adventure they made up. I don’t think they even use any module or even Faerune for the campaigns.” 

What kind of blasphemy was this?

“And you want this person to train you to be the dungeon master for Hellfire?” Eddie was unimpressed. 

“Yes- I mean no- I-”

Eddie was finding joy in the way Dustin was floundering. The kid was usually quick on his feet and sharp witted, fitting for a bard, but now he seemed backed into a corner. 

“Join the campaign.” Dustin finally blurted out. “You don’t get to ever play, right? Come join the campaign and then I can learn from both of you!”

That was a tempting offer. Eddie had been trying to get Corroded Coffin to schedule weekly D&D during the summer, but as it stood they’d be lucky to even meet up for rehearsals. 

Eddie looked down again at the ticket. Henderson seemed to really have faith in this person, and when was the last time Eddie got to play outside of the occasional one shot? Very rarely. 

“Keep the ticket.” Dustin said. “Just bring that with you and I’ll make sure you get in.” 

“Is this a secret club, or something?” Eddie shoved the ticket in his lunch box. 

Dustin shrugged “My cousin always likes to go all out.” 

“Dustin, you’re mom’s looking for you!” Will called down the stairs. 

“Shit. Coming!” Dustin called back up. “Eddie, come join us if you want. I can show you what I’m working on for next year and you can actually play for once.”

Eddie wasn’t given a chance to answer as Dustin ran up the stairs, leaving him alone in the drama room. 

He watched the door close and looked around the room that had been a safe-haven for the past few years. It was a bittersweet feeling, Eddie had always hid inside of the game and his band, being given a few precious hours a week to be more than what this school and town thought of him. Here, he could be a hero, a rock star, a somebody. When he finally got that diploma in the next two weeks and ran off that stage, what was Eddie running to? 

---

Welcome to my new series! I'm doing a lot of research on D&D and the satanic panic for this, so I hope you all enjoy <3

[lovebillyhargrove]

I made it longer

***

Steve likes throwing a bone to that loud, obnoxious, attention-guzzling motherfucker.

Who – right on the threshold of Hawkins High – impudently crossed swords with its king himself.

The fucking impostor.

The nerve he possesses. Huh.

Too cocksure.

We'll see.

And it absolutely doesn't matter that Steve gave up the throne on his own volition, and has taken on the role of honourable knight protecting the innocent inhabitants of his quiet town from one horrific death-spewing dragon.

Blood is a complex thing, you can't change the structure, you can't dilute the essence, can't rewrite the biochemistry.

Steve was born

King.

Hargrove? .. The buffoon takes too much upon himself. Trying to bite off more than he can swallow.

That's why Steve isn't above having a little fun, cause Billy just looks like a tirelessly-jumping-around cheeky fleabag that's lost its home. And direction.

A few bones – and the dog, whining and obediently wagging its tail, is going to willingly put itself on a chain.

Watch and learn, kiddos, commoners and the such.

A subtle look, thrown at the best basketball player Hawkins High school gym has seen so far, when they are rubbing at their own armpits after another game of push-and-push on the basketball court,

Catching a glimpse of tiny streams flowing over that smooth Californian-sun-kissed, salt polished skin so mesmerisingly gently, while at it. It's spellbinding, a slightly magical ritual.

Witching.

However, the shower is over-crowded and guys – Tommy, Andy, Bryan, whothefuckever – immediately break this exchange of attraction, disperse the accumulation of colliding particles with a wild guffaw or a dumb joke, or just a loud discussion of the game or the latest/upcoming party.

Harrington doesn't mind.

The look has reached its target, because Hargrove is staring back, for a very long time, Steve's skin feels his starving eyes, they scratch, they claw at it.

Gosh. Let Billy, as best he can, hide his hunger, masking it under insolence or curtaining it with luxurious eyelashes –

Steve is not an ignorant fool.

He is able to read the situation perfectly well.

At times Steve can shamelessly ogle Billy's cranberry lips that promise the imminent arrival of summer and its pleasures,

And generously allow Hargrove to see that he is staring.

For a whole few seconds.

Steve's keeping his eyes on the lips, but not too much, the game must come in moderation, because having just raised a foot over the line, there is always enough common sense to put it back – on solid ground,

And Steve looks away, still having noticed Hargrove's blown out pupils.

His sparkling gaze, bursting in wild fountains,

Scattering like fireworks, falling on Harrington's naked skin, sending a rush of tickling goosebumps, having him on pins and needles.

They burn like laser, these cold-blue eyes.

And it's even a bit tinglingly pleasant, feverishly exciting.

It's there, Steve's not gonna deny it. But.

He doesn't care about the new guy, doesn't want or need anything from him. Billy could disappear the next second, and Steve wouldn't notice.

He's not interested in Hargrove. Nah. The guy just bugs him, that's all. A show off, who should be put back in his place, that's right, at the doghouse.

However, throwing a bone is fun. Why not yield to harmless temptation?

It's never a bad idea to casually slide his tongue over the lower lip when Harrington feels the fiery ice of Billy's eyes on him.

Slightly biting his lip or thoughtfully running his finger over it, reading a textbook or looking at the blackboard in class.

Steve absent-mindedly strokes his shiny, expertly styled hair, casually throwing strands behind his ears.

Smiling at Nicole, flirt levels soaring, raising his eyebrows with interest in response to what the girl, who is simply swooning from talking to him, is saying.

Steve knows that Hargrove is watching them like a hawk, and is scraping the iron of the locker with his claws in helpless anger.

He knows, and smirks to himself, cause the guy is so obvious, it's pathetic.

Then Harrington slightly caresses his chin. Let Billy appreciate – once again – how perfect the cut is, how finely honed his jaw is,

How he, Steve Harrington, is wholly handsome, impeccable. Superb.

He knows all the tricks by heart, has learnt this particular chapter in the textbook word for word. However, most likely, he has a god-given gift, it's not from hard work at all, oh no.

It comes naturally.

An innate talent.

And now is the time to apply these skills to practice. Lately, Steve has become somehow .. discontented with life. He and Nancy broke up, now and then his buried passion tortures him with the sadness of unfulfilled dreams, a new girlfriend is not in sight.

Of course, he communicates with all the prime ladies of Hawkins High, but no one attracts him so .. Well, no-one has been able to send a light electric shock at his frequency yet.

Steve is feeling kinda low, his parents are either absent from home, or they are tirelessly pestering him about future matters, there is no third option.

The Upside Down seems to have fallen inactive for the time being, and the whole city is covered with a cold blanket of snow, everything, including all sounds, has become quieter, more muffled.

Except for Hargrove who never shuts up, always broadcasting some shit in the gym with his loud, thunderous voice,

The dude really gets on Steve's nerves, constantly running his mouth,

Driving his predatory-looking car like he stole it, tires squealing on ice in the school parking lot, breaking the usual, measured silence.

Harrington involuntarily responds to the volume, chooses flashy colors to wear, not too bright, of course, vulgar taste and Steve Harrington are two absolutely incompatible notions.

He wears clothes that make him stand out, make him feel even more confident,

And today a thin jumper of noble red color, which clings to his lean body just right, achieves the goal.

Harrington looks incredibly good.

Day after day, effortlessly, in a breeze.

Red captures attention, Steve knows from his own experience, remembers how Billy's half-unbuttoned dark crimson shirt caught his eye –

That late evening, when he and the team of teenage monster-hunters were freezing the demodog in Joyce's fridge.

He shouldn't have behaved like that at the Byers'. And he's not even talking about outright lies now,

He shouldn't have .. oh god, Harrington could make a whole list of those things.

He shouldn't have playfully put his hand on his hip, with a very strange accompanying line

"Don't cream your pants."

A very unambiguous phrase, why on earth, where from, how did it even escape his mouth ..?

There's nothing but ambiguity between them.

He shouldn't have kept his gaze on Hargrove's lips for so long

Damn, too long. Anyone would have thought that something extremely fishy was going on there.

Oh, and at the same time talk crap of the highest quality.

There was no need for Steve to poke Hargrove's firm chest with his fingers, and do it .. so slowly, so ..

Lustily, with an unidentified current to the gesture,

Spelling it out for the guy

"Get. Out."

Billy was only looking for his underage step-sister that night.

Harrington arranged an all-inclusive ride of hospitality and friendliness for him, right on the spot – a white-threaded lie, so fucking easy to see through, confusing remarks, humiliation, a passionate fight.

After all the fun ended, Steve's head ached for a week.

Fucking asshole with fists that weigh a ton each.

Harrington knows perfectly well that he will not get an apology, and he himself is not going to offer one.

What for?

There is no need for this, cause instead of a dialogue he can

Pull Hargrove, like a taut string,

He's so responsive to Harrington's little manipulations,

Catches fire in a twinkle.

A bit more – and the guy will definitely snap.

Steve is eager to help. He can sprawl on a chair in the classroom, leisurely spreading his legs,

For some reason, Billy fidgets throughout the entire class, drops pencils and notebooks and spends a suspiciously large amount of time under the desk.

No one keeps Harrington from touching his own wrists, pensively twisting the strap of his watch. On the wrists – there is soft skin with blue veins, an erogenous zone, revealing this part of the body, Steve himself gets a bit high and aroused.

His watchful eyes never miss how Hargrove often stares at his neck. Like a vampire. The dude's apparently drawn to tender places.

If Steve is all attention in conversations with the girls, he shows zero interest in Billy, why grace an empty space, that only barks and annoys, with it.

He passes Hargrove in the lunch hall, focused on the contents of his tray, but it is too crowded here,

And no one will notice an accidental light touch

Shoulder to shoulder,

No one – except for the two of them.

It can go two ways – Billy can either push back and snarl something in return, or

Relish.

Sometimes Harrington is not averse to tempting Hargrove with a milk-bone, a too transparent hint – touching his own body so that the guy imagines that he is the one actually doing it –

In the school showers under the pouring water, Steve runs his palm over his chest, deliberately teasingly sliding his fingers over the nipples, the wet skin, collecting droplets,

Billy notices all the little things, reads the signals,

Lingers there, waiting, turning to ash, black with desire.

He is so greedy. So easy. It's fun to see him choke on the tiniest crumb.

A slight alluring smile curving at the corners of Steve's mouth, like a snake, has the power of sending the boy into a fit.

Harrington does hear

A loud growl,

A fist hitting the iron of the locker,

A rude

"Get lost, Hagan! Not fucking now, I'm fucking busy!"

Steve's ears clearly catch

The powerless grinding of the guy's pearly-white teeth.

The sound of him ferociously digging ground with his paws.

When there's an inevitable, but a small confrontation, Harrington is not above playing dirty. Not throwing a bone, but stepping on Hargrove's bones instead, and listening to them crack – just like the guy's thin patience – anticipating the break. The seams are gonna rip, and it will be

Entertaining to watch.

Steve has put Hargrove on survival mode and is indifferently waiting for the moment when Billy can no longer stand it, breaks down, snaps and

Starts to sort things out.

However, not with blind rage, no.

And not by butting heads on the basketball court.

In a different way.

And then, jokingly and not thinking too much about it, Steve will break him over his knee, like a dry branch, throw the useless thing aside.

He will put an end to such a captivating game, and forever forget about it.

***

Only, after everything happens in Starcourt, Steve suddenly can't seem to be quite good at forgetting,

Losing sleep, turning everything in his head, over and over, driving himself insane and

Waiting ..?

For it to be a fairy-tale with a happy ending. The ending he would've written.

[formosusiniquis]

Earlier this/last week @thefreakandthehair did some possible s5 scene speculation based on some leaked pics that circulated. The scene and it's kas!eddie/pre-steddie implications stuck with me and now I present you all with this

---

Maybe he should feel worse about it, but the first thing Steve thinks when he hears the voices cresting up the hill, angry in a way that sounds drunk, is he's glad.

It's not that he wants the kid's mourning time interrupted, Steve is just glad for something to do. Something that isn't standing off to the side doing his own mental math. How long do you have to know someone to feel this anguish looking at their headstone? How long to make it okay that you've added their grave to your city patrol, checking a couple times a week for new graffiti and especially two hours before picking up Dustin to bring him here. At least his time on the ladder outside The Hawk was well spent, paint remover and rags in his trunk beside a bat that only leaves to join him in places like this.

They put Eddie's grave near the back but it's still surrounded. The Hawkins Cemetery taking on dozens of new residents, tall dirt mounds marking their new homes. He tries not to think too much about the details. Was this the plot Mr. Munson had bought for himself? Did the government provide it? The least they could do for the hero they're generously allowing to take the role of villain, a free plot for an empty grave.

He's five back and four to the right of another empty grave, Steve needs to remember flowers next time he comes. Anniversaries have always stuck in his mind. Four years maybe geraniums.

Ball caps crest over the hill before faces, and he already knows this won't be good. Tiger green has become his least favorite color. He pats Dustin on the shoulder, letting the kid know he's stepping back and away. Let it look like privacy, not that he’s done more than stare. Edward Munson Now with God.

Meandering over to where the problem is headed his way, Steve wonders if that was deliberate. A preventative measure, to keep people away. Or is Mr. Munson a devout believer, hoping this inscribed plea will help the universe do right by his boy?

He tries not to think too hard about it.

There are other things to worry about. Five important things in ballcaps and letterman jackets, stalking up faster like the closer they get the better they can smell the blood in the water. He hadn’t moved fast enough. They’re too close. To him, to Dustin. Andrews and Miller and Jackson and Thompson and one other, three seniors, a junior, and a reedy kid that must be a sophomore like Dustin. Faces he recognizes in the vague sense of athletic camaraderie. Guys he’s played pickup with on nice days.

“What’re you doing here, Harrington?” It doesn’t matter who actually says it, it’s the voice of the mob. There’s a blankness in all of their eyes, maybe he was wrong about them not being drunk. Mob justice, the spirit of the night.

“Feels like I should be asking you fellas that.”

“Kid up there’s been running his mouth, he’s gotta learn what happens to freaks around here.”

They’re way too close. Steve can tell Dustin heard that the same way he can tell when the kid is ignoring him on purpose. There’s a second that he thinks about playing along, five on one, if he could play the jock card and get away with it things could be easier. But Dustin is pointedly not listening now, picking at the grass that’s barely started growing over the dirt they covered Eddie’s grave in.

“That’s not gonna happen, not while I’m standing here.”

Five against one.

He’s still not very good in a fight with people. Maybe it’s the fucking yips.

The bat has worked as a deterrent. When people with anger and bile in their eyes looked at him cleaning up red painted words across grey granite. Nails pointedly facing the sky, keeping their sneers at a distance.

Held at his side, they all know he doesn’t want to hit anyone with it. He swings low, he pulls them shy.

It isn’t long before it’s wrestled away. Tossed to the side and he’s left with only fists to swing.

When the first hand closes around his collar, the seams on his sleeve popping, the adrenaline presents him a pointless gift. The collar on Dustin’s shirt didn’t get torn by the agitator in their washing machine. Of all the things to lie about, of course he lied about this.

The telltale throb of his pulse in his face and his fists point to the fight going rapidly down hill. He’s put one down. Four against one.

“Hey assholes!” And of course Dustin can’t help but get involved.

“Get out of here,” Steve tries to urge him away. Can’t make the gesture with his hands, every time he moves another person grabs his shoulder or his arm. Pulling him deeper into the fight. Like he’s that horse in the swamp in that movie. 

But Dustin doesn’t listen. Of course he doesn’t listen. Dustin is swinging the bat wildly like it’s a club and he’s BamBam, he’s going to hurt himself before he hurts someone else.

Andrews or Miller or Jackson, they're all the same in this mob, pull away from him. Moving toward Dustin.

“Get away from him! Get away from him,” Steve struggles, shouting even as his voice cracks. He can't get away, can't move. Two people have his arms held. The sleeve of his shirt rips. The third hits him again.

Pain and adrenaline, there's a ringing in his ears that drowns out whatever Dustin is saying. Mouth moving in a babble that Steve can't make heads or tails of with his blurred out vision.

But he sees the swing. Dustin unused to the weight of the bat, the hit lands too close to the handle.

He only gets the one. Then it’s ripped from his hands and tossed back toward Eddies grave.

Then he sees the swing. A fist that lands exactly where it's meant to. Dustin staggers back but stays standing. Staggers closer to the grave.

Where rivulets of red are spreading across the ground the same way they're pouring from his face.

Steve struggles harder, pain tolerance fucked he can barely even feel the hits that have been landing. He has to get to Dustin.

Long black claws, a hand with greyed flesh. It digs itself into the ground ready to pull itself up.

“Dustin, Dustin, you have to run. Go!”

“I'm not fucking leaving.”

Another hit. It takes Dustin down this time. One eye blinks as the other already begins to swell. Steve can taste blood in his mouth.

A dark streak launches itself into the air. Moving too fast to make out anything but big, it vanishes into the dusky fall sky. Steve tries to track it. Tries to keep his eye on it and Dustin and the guys.

Another swing, on Steve this time. Attention drawn too many places he doesn't see it coming. Hard across the temple, one of these assholes is still wearing his class ring. 

Vision greying out, when Steve can see again there's one more missing. The hold on his arms is slack. Steve pulls loose, running straight for Dustin, trying to pull him up from the ground.

“We've got to go. C'mon, Dust, we've got to get back to the car. Make the call.”

He's tugging but Dustin isn't moving. The sound of a scream takes the air. Steve doesn't know if he can pick him up. Isn't sure he ever healed right after the bats.

Another scream. Another. Dustin is moving now. Barely. Feet stumbling over themselves. Two hard hits to the head, could be a concussion.

It's following them. Moving faster through the air than they have any hope of on their feet. Prey. They're running, they have to try.

Swooping low, the thing passes overhead. That throaty clicking that haunts his nightmares fills the air. It lands on two legs. Tall and human. Long, leathery wings extend from its back. Steve's bat clutched in its hands. It walks closer. Stalking.

Steve tries to shove Dustin farther behind him. Tries. Tries. But the thing walking toward them, it's Eddie.

He struggles against Steve's hold. “Let go. Let me go! It's Eddie, he's alive.”

“Dustin. Don't. Dustin,” he isn't sure what he's trying to stop. He isn't sure he can anymore.

Back wheels skidding on a wet road. There's a helplessness every time he realizes that things are starting again. When he knows for sure that the wreck is going to happen, fishtailing out of his control.

It's November and it's back.

It's back and it's wearing Eddie's face.

At least when he comes to the end of his borrowed time, the thing that will kill him will be beautiful. Even with the milky film covering those big brown eyes. Even though he looks pale as a corpse. 

Predator. Eddie moves with a fluid grace. Closer. Closer.

Anything is better than the demogorgon. He supposes. But he probably shouldn't be thinking that either. 

Will Dustin run when he goes down?

Steve thinks they're about to find out. Eddie starts to fold, a sprinter getting into position, a cat about to pounce.

Only he keeps going, collapsing until he's down on one knee. Far enough away that if they had to, Steve thinks they could get away before he's chasing them again. Close enough that he can make out the humor that's spread across a smile with too many new teeth. A seriousness in his eyes. He holds the bat flat across both hands, offering it out to Steve. Urging him to step forward and take it. Proposing.

“Your scepter, my king, you're going to need it. Vecna is coming but I have a plan.”

[jbaileyfansite]

The Awardist Interview with Matt Bomer and Jonathan Bailey (2024)

Yes, Matt Bomer and Jonathan Bailey's sex scenes in Fellow Travelers consumed social media for a couple months during the limited series' run on Showtime. But the power dynamic on display wasn't just for sensationalism; it served a bigger purpose in the journey of the two closeted men.

They are also scenes that would've been difficult to put on screen just a decade ago, and the characters — Bomer's State Department official Hawk Fuller and Bailey's congressional staffer Tim Laughlin — very likely would've been played by straight men.

"I don't even know if I would have seen the script for it 10 years ago," Bomer says, laughing while seated next to his costar during a chat with EW's Awardist podcast. But the job was made easier, and "so much of my cynicism was obliterated," he says, thanks to the support of the network as well as production company Fremantle. "From the beginning, [they] were giving us notes that weren't constricting at all. They were actually really liberating," the Emmy nominee explains. "They were saying, 'No, go farther. Embarrass yourself. Go too far. Try to scare us. Try to see how far you can push it.' And that kind of permission, I felt, even bled into the acting work on set because it came from the people who were in power who could make those decisions."

Bailey, also Emmy-nominated for his work in the series, is quick to express his gratitude for the "brilliant gay stories" starring straight actors that have come before — "I would never for a second wish that I hadn't seen Brokeback Mountain or Gus Van Sant's Milk and Cate Blanchett playing Carol," he says — as well as even having the opportunity to star in Fellow Travelers.

"Had this been made five, 10 years ago, I completely believe that I would have been able to play a straight lead before I would have been able to play gay. And that's kind of wild," acknowledging the changing tides in the industry. But he also notes, "The majority of awards go to straight actors playing gay because there's this sense that that means that they're somehow brave or that they're mixing it up. And there is a bruise that, looking back now, there's a very real — and has been — sense that there aren't out gay men playing their experience," he says. "These characters, of course they're rich, of course they're complicated, of course they're exactly the sort of stories that you'd want to tell because it's so complicated, so much pain, and there's so much suffering, there's much resilience and there's much spirit in it."

That pain is on display throughout much of the series' eight episodes as they contend with McCarthyism and restrictive laws against homosexuality. But in particular for Bomer, it was episode 7, "White Nights," that he admits he was dreading the most. After a family tragedy leaves Hawk devastated, he flees to Fire Island, where his abuse of alcohol and drugs rightfully worries Tim, who travels there to find and hopefully help him.

Bomer says his nerves were routed in the big emotion switch Hawk makes during a sexual escape. "I was gonna have to go from a really drug-fueled kind of bacchanalian love scene that's really dark into the turning point for the character," he explains. "He has this tragic secret that he's trying to bury that is suddenly exposed in front of his face. And as Hawkins is want to do, when it's exposed, he attacks. And then to go from that to being able to rely on my scene partner and fall into the complete vulnerability of the character for the first time — and we didn't film those things separately, it was all one take — I knew that was going to be a scary day."

For everything Bailey experienced in the film, including the fear he had "of playing the last scenes" as Tim dies from complications of AIDS, it was a real-life scenario that reminded the actor of the horrors that queer people still experience. While in Washington D.C. for a Human Rights Campaign event in October 2023 prior to the launch of the series, Bailey, who was wearing an HRC hat, says a man in a coffee shop removed it from his head and threw it to the ground, physically threatening him before leaving when a woman started filming with her cellphone.

"It was really overwhelming and upsetting," Bailey recalls, noting the contrast between the "electric fervor" of the previous night's celebratory event. "I woke up the next day and I honestly felt like I was in a sort of montage of a B-movie because I was like, the sun was out and I was like, this is it, this is it, I get it, I get what this is about, I can see what my platform is and I can see how I can use this. [And I] went into a coffee shop and then someone threatens you and says, 'Get out of my country, you f---ing queer. If you don't do that, I'll shoot you.'"

Within a week, he called Jonathan Anderson, creative director of luxury brand Loewe, to create the Drink Your Milk t-shirt — a line from Fellow Travelers — to raise money for oppressed LGBTQ+ people around the world via Bailey's new foundation, the Shameless Fund.

"It was the most activating thing that possibly could have happened," Bailey says now, as Bomer wipes tears starting to well in his eyes. "There's a love letter I should write to the man from Pennsylvania."

Listen to Bomer and Bailey's full interview in the episode of The Awardist, here.

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