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munsonthings86 · 7 months

Text

sunshine

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: a love-struck steve cooks you dinner for the first time

warnings: cursing, alcohol, bit of backstory, oversimplified summary, steve's parents kinda suck (when do they not), best friends to lovers, mutual pining, fluff, soft!steve

an: i think this is my favorite thing i’ve ever written. i'm so in love with these two. i hope you all enjoy this one as much as i do. * don’t copy my work * (also pretend there's a big city near hawkins for the sake of this pls)

wc: 6.0k

“Ow!” Steve hissed, nicking his finger yet again as he made his best effort to dice pesky onions. The knife was razor-sharp as it was fresh out of its packaging, having never been used yet. Frustrated, he squeezed the band-aid he'd spent a solid ten minutes looking for, tighter on his finger, earning a harsh sting.

"Goddamned knife," he whispered, tightlipped, but as soon as the complaint left his lips he wished to yank it back in. It was the chef's knife you'd bought him along with many other thoughtful housewarming gifts to celebrate Steve moving into his first apartment. Steve had insisted that you return some of the gifts, noting that "one gift was more than he could ever ask for".

In spite of his pleas, you didn't return a single gift. Of course, you didn't. You had bought items you knew Steve would need but would ultimately forget to buy for himself. Just to name a few, you'd gotten him a trash bin for his bathroom, a record player, and the best utensil set that the rest of your Family Video paycheck could buy.

Peering at the odd assortment of household objects you'd lugged into his barren apartment with a bright smile pulling at the corners of your lips, an expression of gratitude and bewilderment claimed his face. Steve's round, chestnut-brown eyes ogled yours as you ranted and raved, explaining your thought process behind each purchase.

The record player was for nights like these. Peaceful nights indoors, simply enjoying each other's company without the tense presence of his parents who would shout for him to turn that damn music down if he even thought about letting the needle hit the groove of the record.

"Now we can play music as loud and as much as we want to," he remembered you saying, blushing at your use of the word "we". Though you two were only best friends and have been since grade school, Steve couldn't help but fantasize about a life with you. You, drowning in one of his bigger-than-you t-shirts, prancing around the apartment as you listened to some your favorite records.

He'd begun pondering on how he would rearrange the bit of furniture he had, that'd allow for space for your belongings as well, before you lured him out of his thoughts, defending the bin.

From what he gathered, you bought the garbage bin due to his burning inability to keep his bathroom clean. Steve was someone who took great care of his appearance, always well-kempt and attentive to even the smallest of details.

His bathroom did not reflect this, whatsoever. He had a bad habit of harboring empty cans and bottles of Farrah Fawcett spray that littered the already limited counter space he had in his en suite bathroom.

Steve was such a boy when it came to tidiness.

Everyone knew that about Steve, though. What they didn’t know, however, was how skilled he was in a kitchen. After being left to his lonesome whenever his parents would venture off to one of their many business trips, Steve spent his nights learning to cook after his allowance dwindled and he couldn't afford pizza delivery anymore. The second he'd clock in for his shift at Family Video, he'd make a beeline to where you stood, stocking VHS tapes, and instantly began buzzing and bustling about the new recipe he tried the night before.

You had begged him to let you come over one night to taste one of his home-cooked meals, but his response was always the same. "You can't rush perfection, sweets. But I promise, when I'm ready to grace the world with my master chef skills, you'll be the first to know."

You would roll your eyes dramatically at him but admittedly, you felt a sense of pride wash over you whenever Steve would tell you about his cooking endeavors. It may not seem like a big deal to others, but you knew how much his parents being so negligent, so often, bothered him.

Though they were never the most warm and affectionate, there seemed to be a colder chill and heavier sense of loneliness in the house when they were gone. That's why you never denied Steve whenever he'd call late at night asking if it was okay to spend the night at your house.

He always felt at home there.

Steve learning to cook for himself meant that his parents' absence was finally beginning to help him grow; no longer craving validation and tenderness from his family. He got that when he was with you. That's what the utensil set was for. A silent sign saying that though his parents weren't there, you were.

"Don't get me wrong, sunshine, I love the gift, but why's this knife so funny looking?" Steve asked, squinting his eyes at the sharp object that looked like it was from some alien universe. It had three square-like holes infiltrating the blade, and the tip came to an up-turned point that split in two. The handle was the only average looking part about it.

"That, my friend, is a cheese knife," you answered matter-of-factly, gazing at the box that had all of the included utensils neatly labeled.

"They make knives specifically for cheese?"

"Apparently, yeah," you snorted, tossing the empty box off to the side of the room with the other discarded cardboard that you made a mental note to move to the recycling bin on your way out. Steve never recycled. Bad habit he picked up from his parents, you figured.

"Well, I can't wait to use my weird new knife. Thank you. Seriously," Steve smiled softly as he watched you with those big brown eyes that voiced his gratitude and sentiment louder than his words ever could.

"The best weird chef has to have the best weird equipment. You're welcome," you grinned, toying with the loose thread dangling from your distressed band tee, as your eyes collided with Steve’s.

Looking at Steve was hard.

In the midst of quiet and almost intimate moments like these, the nerves bolting through your body screamed at you to look anywhere else, but the greed of your heart yearned for you to keep drinking in the deep chocolate pools that were Steve Harrington's eyes.

The two of you gazed at each other for another second, though it felt identical to a blissful eternity, until Steve furrowed his eyebrows after registering what you'd just uttered. "Did you just call me weird?" He asked, hand on his hip as if he's offended, though he truthfully isn't because he's positive you're infinitely weirder than he is, and he's more than willing to debate with you for hours on that topic.

"Nooo," you sang, quickly turning away to distract yourself with some unpacking that Steve had called you over to help him with, which you happily agreed to. A little extra time with him was time well spent.

"Yeah, okay," he rolled his eyes. He happily tucked away the flashy silverware he'd poached from his parent's kitchen into the darkest corner of the drawer, leaving the less flashy but much more appreciated utensils you bought him, front and center, ready to be shown off.

"Oh those? My best friend got them for me. Aren't they nice? Did you know they make knives for cheese?" He imagined himself saying, hoping he'd get the opportunity to boast about them to his guests some time soon.

Steve smiled to himself at the memory, angling the cutting board that harbored a pile of diced onions that he'd at last conquered, into a bowl, sliding them off with the blade of a knife that was a lot less odd shaped compared to his trusty cheese knife. It didn't even have to be that specific memory. It could've been any imagery of you being the effortlessly sarcastic, intelligent, breath-taking person that you were, and it would be the warm light to inevitably guide him out of whatever dark mood that dared to plague him.

Steve was so helplessly in love with you.

April 14, 1978, he could never forget the day, was particularly dreary. So dreary it made Steve begin to question why the spring time was thought to be such a radiant, pleasant season when all it ever did was bring rain and provoke people with allergies. Steve slammed his blaring alarm off with a groan, never bothering to pry open his tired eyes.

The sky was dark and dreadful, concealing the golden rays of the sun he yearned to see. As he trudged through the house, reluctantly gearing himself up for yet another torturous day of middle school, Steve silently prayed for some unorthodox happenstance that would call for the canceling of school.

But much to his dismay, that wasn't the case.

When the bell pierced through the classroom speakers, alerting the beginning of Steve's favorite class, P.E., he rushed to the locker room, jumping into his gym uniform, as he was determined to continue his unfaltering streak of dodgeball victories.

Steve was in the zone, taking out his opponents left and right as if it was nothing. If dodgeball was an Olympic sport, there was no doubt in anyone's mind that he could've won multiple gold medals.

Then you came.

Sauntering into sixth grade gym class, adorning a lengthy, bright yellow dress with your hair done up, looking as anxious as can be. It was your first day at Hawkins Middle and you'd just transferred halfway into the semester, all thanks to your parents decision to move to the small town, leaving New York City and all your friends behind.

Everyone turned their curious heads to peer at you, whispering amongst each other, prompting you to clutch your books tighter to your chest as if to shield yourself. Your soft smile as you looked around at your new classmates instantly made Steve's chest and stomach warm and gooey inside, making him want nothing more than to walk up to you and convince you to be his friend. Steve hated how gossipy his classmates were, as it clearly made you uncomfortable, but he couldn't bring himself to look away either.

The way the illuminous medallion hue complimented your skin tone was nothing short of art. To him, you were the sun personified. The sun he was so eager to see.

Due to your lack of sports attire, Coach Daniels had you sit on the bleachers, watching as the other kids resumed their game of dodgeball after mumbling a "warm" welcome to you, per Coach's request.

Steve lost his first game of dodgeball that day. He just couldn't seem to focus when you were perched just a few feet away, thumbing through your withered book, looking like one of the prettiest girls he'd ever laid his adolescent eyes on. Steve, or the boy with the hella good hair as you dubbed him in your diary later on that night, was too enamored with you to be bothered by the taunts coming from his friends. He jogged over to you, offering to keep you company until fourth period began, which you happily accepted.

And ever since then, the two of you have been as thick as thieves.

"Hawkins PD, open up!" Steve recognized your muffled voice, though you deepened it, to imitate a police officer. Your signature three knocks followed, urging butterflies to erupt throughout his stomach, as he longed to see you. It couldn't have been more than twenty-four hours since the two of you had last seen each other, but even one hour without you was an hour way too long for poor Steve.

"It's open", Steve called, tossing a hand towel over his shoulder, setting the stove ablaze, planting a pot over the flame. Right on time, he thought.

"Hey, Harrington," you smiled as you struggled to enter, cradling two bottles of rosé wine and your purse in your arms, pushing the door open with the help of your hip.

"Hey, sunshine. Lemme get those for ya," Steve offered, stowing your bearings on the counter gently, while you kicked your shoes off, mumbling a "thanks".

A warm amber light casted from the ceiling of the kitchen spilled into the shadowy living room a few feet away, like a neglected can of paint. The only thing that remained un-melted by the darkness was the quiet record player, as if the generous light knew you'd be looking for it the minute you walked in.

"How was your day?" Steve smirked as he watched you rush over to the object he swore was the only reason you liked to come over, sifting through the vinyl's searching for your favorite one. What’s Love Got To Do With It by Tina Turner. Steve spotted it before you did. Absentmindedly, you responded, “Not too shabby, ya know? How was yours?”

“Yeah, it was alright.”

You crouched down to the two tier storage table, running a finger across the spines of the records, searching for your beloved song. It quickly became the song you most adored when you'd bought the tape for your Walkman a few years prior. Your days weren't complete unless you played the song at least twice, so much so that Steve found himself quietly humming the song to himself whenever he'd miss you. He even caught himself doing that dumb little finger dance you normally did whenever you listened to a song you really liked. He'd never tell you that, though.

Much to your dismay, you couldn't seem to spy that sneaky record. You dropped your hand disappointedly, faintly fearsome that it'd been misplaced. Steve's apartment wasn't huge, but it wasn't exactly tidy either. “It’s right there, sweets. To your left.” So you diverted your attention to the left. No Tina Turner. “No, your other left.”

“Here?” you pointed. Steve hummed in confirmation.

“Well, that’s not the left, Steve. That’s the right,” was your response that you punctuated with a roll of your tired eyes. Apart from knowing how to get to Skull Rock with his eyes closed, the boy had zero sense of direction. It was something you found both endearing and infuriating. It depended on the day, really.

“Potato, potahto.” Oh, Steve. Melting butter into the burning pan in front of him that he almost completely forgot about, all thanks to your beautiful presence, he began sautéing his diced onions along with some fresh garlic. "Well, speaking of 'potahtoes' you need to be cooking some, 'cause you promised me dinner tonight," you smiled tight-lipped, cocking your head at an angle.

You felt the unpleasant sensation of your stomach growling, cursing you, at the heavenly thought of food as your shift at Family Video earlier today was unforgiving to your non-existent breakfast. You fumbled with the vinyl a bit as the mouthwatering aroma of home cooking stormed your senses and Steve spoke once more. "Feisty today, aren't we?"

"Just a tad," you laughed quietly.

"Well, I hate to disappoint you but tonight we're not having potatoes. I'm making your favorite," he pointed, shuffling the pan to give it a gentle stir. He made sure to turn to face you in time to see your hopefully delighted reaction. "Alfredo?!" you spun around with a glittering grin, almost knocking over Steve's plant. A fake one, of course. A real plant was a bit too much responsibility for him.

At the nod of his head, your cheesy smile soften to a smaller, less toothy one as you watched Steve while he resumed cooking. What you failed to share with your best friend was that the last phrase you'd actually use to describe your day was "not too shabby". Besides waking up almost an entire hour past the start of your shift (Keith made sure to give you an earful about that) and everyone and their mother in town deciding to be at Family Video today, it seemed like your day was never-ending. The only thing keeping your mood from turning stink to sour was the idea of going to see Steve.

Steve was kind of magical in that way. Anger, sadness, anxiety, you name it, it was no match for Steve. Though he was no poet, he had this way with words that would never fail to make you feel so comforted. So safe. Any instance where Steve had to talk you out of whatever mental turmoil you were enduring, it felt you were being endlessly wrapped in a cozy, tight blanket, sheltering you from all the darkness.

How Steve knew you were having a shit day and needed your favorite meal along with your favorite boy? Lord knows. His ability to read you without even needing to be near you was nothing short of wizardry. But like you said. Steve was magical.

"You're the best," you proclaimed, prompting a mumbled sly remark from your chef for the evening, before the music began. Being here, along with the divine sound of Tina's ethereal voice and pasta boiling in water, was more than enough to make you feel like you were right at home, though your true address was miles away. When the time to depart would make its cursed arrival, it was never easy to leave, especially with the way Steve begged for you to stay, using those unfairly adorable puppy dog eyes that paired beautifully with his lengthy lashes, against you.

And it always worked. Well, not always. You had some degree of self-control. But more times than not, you couldn't help but to cave in to his protests. How could you resist? It was Steve.

With a satisfied grin that carved deep smile lines into his blushing cheeks, he'd tuck his sheets snug around your body, repeatedly asking you if you were comfortable enough. His bed was cloud-like, plush and doughy and his pillows smelled like his shampoo and conditioner, a hint of cologne on his comforter. It was like you were trapped in a cocoon of Steve. You wanted to tell him you were beyond comfortable, that there, in his bed, you were in just about your favorite place on Earth but, habitually, you concluded that a simple nod would suffice.

Crawling onto the empty space beside you, he made sure to face you, leaving a soft squeeze on your shoulder before humming "G'night, sunshine," closing his eyes and tucking his hands under his head. And like always, Steve was a perfect gentleman, dead set on never getting under the covers himself when you'd sleep over.

Guilt would disrupt your relaxation at the sight of the brisk night chill building little hills on his freckled arms, though you selfishly loved the way he'd cuddle up to steal some of your body heat. His plump lips would part as he drifted into a peaceful slumber, light snores and chirping crickets being your lullaby.

You hoped to have another night like that soon.

In the midst of times like those, storms of wonder and doubt raged on. Was Steve like this with everyone else? Were you being silly thinking that you and Steve could be more than friends? Being Steve's best friend for nearly a decade, you knew he wasn't exactly a prude. His King Steve era was honestly one of your least favorites. Though he reserved his usual tenderness and affection all for you, you've witnessed a whole slew of girls enter and leave Steve's life, and none of them looked like you.

You wanted nothing more than to be one of the girls he'd have leaned up against his locker, arm resting next to their head, cheeks fanned by his minty breath as he whispered honeyed words. You craved dates at the drive-in theater in Steve's burgundy 1983 BMW only to neglect the movie and end up making out, like he did with other girls.

When Steve would bring his latest lover around, desperately, you did your damnedest to bury your jealousy and and fill its grave with merriment for him, because if anyone deserved to be happy, it was Steve. But the girls at school only wanted to be with Steve because of his status and all the flashy things he could buy them.

The flashy things were dull to you, though.

You wanted to be with Steve because you wanted to hold his hand and press soft kisses to his cheek. To hug him a little tighter and little longer than a best friend normally would. To run your fingers through his fluffy hair whenever he would grow stressed because you knew it calmed him down. To make him breakfast in bed when he was sick and even when he wasn't. To love him your fullest potential.

But you had to settle for this. Calves tucked under your thighs with a blanket draped over your legs as you stared off into space, longing for someone you thought you couldn't have, not knowing he was stealing glances of you wondering what was running through your pretty little head.

Resting your arm against the back of the sofa, holding your head up, your lips were downturned in a pout, eyebrows pulled together as you studied the throw pillow a few inches away from you. A little pillow can't be that interesting, something has to be bothering you, he thought. He was unapologetically curious to know if pressing his lips against your own would make that frown melt into that sweet smirk you usually had.

Steve hated when you were unhappy. It made his mind race. Did someone say something to you? Did someone do something to you? Did you eat today? How was your shift? Why did you lie when you said your day "wasn't too shabby"? Obviously it was shabby. Look at your face. That tired and troubled, cute little face. What can he do to fix it? You were his sunshine, you deserved to be happy, always.

Giving the pot a final stir and turning the flame off, Steve carelessly tossed the grease-stained hand towel flopped over his shoulder, down by the sink, strolling over to where he'd earlier set down the two bottles of wine. White Zinfandel. Neither you or Steve were wine connoisseurs, but when you called Nancy panicking about how extensive the selection at the liquor store was, she swore by it.

Balancing two glasses and a single bottle of the rose-tinted alcohol, Steve took an extra glance at your face, deciding to scoop up the second bottle into his arms. By the looks of it, it was gonna be one of those nights.

You tried to hide your smile as you noticed he was coming over, a slight grin on his face as he set the glasses down. You and him both knew he was only coming to cause trouble. He set the delicate haul down on to the thrifted wooden coffee table in front of you, slipping you one of those comforting 'Steve smiles' he usually did.

Like the forgotten towel, he threw himself down on the couch next to you, warm hand having a much softer landing on the plush of your thigh; a familiar and welcomed touch. Habitually, you curled up closer to him, no longer able to hide your smile.

"Why so glum, chum?" He tilted his chin down, slightly poking his bottom lip out, as he looked at you through batting eyelashes.

Laughing through your nose and subsequently parading a grin that displayed nothing but teeth and hollow happiness, you remarked, "What do you mean? Don't you see me smiling?"

You were fooling absolutely no one. Steve knew you were sad. And, goddamn it, he was gonna get it out of you.

"You know exactly what I mean, you weren't smiling just a few seconds ago until I came over. You're welcome, by the way, I'm flattered that I have such an effect on you," he smirked, placing a hand on his chest in gratitude.

"Okay, now I'm glum again," you roll your eyes at his not-so discreet cockiness. You hid your face in your hands, resting your forehead on Steve's shoulder. It was hard with muscle, but soft with tenderness and safety. "I was smiling at the wine, for your information."

The palm of your hand that pressed against your face muffled your words, but Steve could still understand what you said, it was evident in the way your tone was laced with satire.

"Ah, yes, that makes way more sense" Steve replied, monotone. His thumb began coasting along your skin as he urged you, "Alright, jokes aside. How are you really feeling?"

Hoisting your head up, you almost answered before he continued, "And don't give me that 'not too shabby' crap 'cause that frown you had going on earlier already snitched on ya."

When the hell did he get so observant? Steve was no idiot, but sometimes things needed to be spelled out for him. But come to think of it, you never had to spell things out for Steve whenever it came to you. He just always had a way of knowing.

"I don't know, Steve. Honestly. Some days are just a bit tougher than others. Today was one of those days," you murmured, avoiding the attentive gaze he was burning into your shifty eyes.

He slowly nodded as he processed your words, head falling on top of yours as you again found comfort on his shoulder. His eyes fluttered shut as you began mimicking the affection he was giving you on your thigh, rubbing his arm through the creamy cotton material of his crewneck. You hadn't seen it before. This one was new. So were the jeans he'd paired with it.

"Why're you dressed so nice, Harrington?"

He laughed more to himself than to you. "Well, the food can't be the only thing that looks good, you know? Wanted to look nice too. It's our first dinner together, after all," he mumbled the last bit.

Steve felt the skin around your eyes tighten against his shoulder as your eyebrows scrunched together. "We've had dinner together before, though."

"This one's different," he replied, almost instantly. You'd hoped Steve's eyes were still closed so that he wouldn't see the bashfulness you were weathering, plucking the corners of your lips into a soft smile.

A silence fell between the two of you. Not unusual. Not awkward. Never unusual or awkward. There was a mutual cherishment of moments like these. Shamelessly invading each other's personal space on the couch as if it was made to only fit one person, music playing lowly the distance, but preferring to listen to the sound of the other's breathing.

"How can I make you feel better, sunshine?" Steve questioned, voice still hushed. The volume of your voice wasn't much louder as you responded, thoughtlessly, "You don't have to ask me that. You make me feel better without even trying."

"Oh yeah?" He craned his neck so that his head was impossibly closer to yours, awaiting your confirmation. Steve knew that you enjoyed his company, as he did yours, but he was only joking earlier when he gushed about having such an effect on you. It was now his turn to hide his blush, when you hum, nodding your head fervently.

These were the warm moments that confused you so much more than any subject in school ever did. And unbeknownst to you, it messed with Steve's head too. He'd never been this close with anyone before. Especially not with any of his "girlfriends" in the past. Sure, they'd cuddle and talk about their feelings. But it never felt the way it does with you. Steve was in love with you. It was hopeless.

And he had to make it known. Soon. If not, he swore he'd explode.

"Ready to eat?"

"Mhm," you buzzed, untangling yourself from the envelop of Steve. As he pressed his knuckles into the sofa, willing himself up, you reached for the bottle of wine and a glass, but your hand only made it so far until it felt the sting of a petty swipe from the boy next to you. "Ah ah, missy, dinner first. Lord knows how many hours its been since you last ate."

You snorted, "Relax, it hasn't been that long."

"Oh yeah? When was the last time?" He looked at you with raised eyebrows and an expression that said he already knew your answer was going to be ridiculous. And if there was anything you learned tonight, it was that Steve was highly skilled at knowing when you were lying, so instead, you left him with a goofy smile and giggle that told him he was absolutely right in his assumption.

"Yeah, that's what I thought," the spot where he sat went cold as he left to the kitchen, fixing two plates for the both of you. You moved the drinks and glasses over to the dining table, using a nearby lighter to ignite the accompanying lavender and vanilla scented candles. Tina Turner's vinyl was replaced with Tears for Fears' album Songs from The Big Chair instead, as Steve used his elbow to dim the kitchen lights, hands full with heavy plates of pasta.

"Oh my gosh, this looks so good! Good job, Stevie," you cheered, as he set your plate down in front of you, pouring you a much needed glass of wine. Your hands shook with hunger or excitement, or both, as you picked up your fork, ready to dig in. "Yeah, don't get too psyched yet. Let's hope it tastes as good as it looks."

"I'm sure it does."

His knee rests against yours as he sits adjacent to you, gathering food on his fork, though his eyes are peering at you, awaiting your verdict. The mouthwatering smell of garlic, butter, cheese and other heaven-sent elements overwhelm your nose and you feel like you can't eat it soon enough. You pause for a beat and so does his heart, hand over your messy mouth as you chew. Steve's hand twitches as he contemplates wiping the sauce from the corners of your lips and licking his finger clean.

"Steve," you begin, eyes flickering shut. "I'm gonna need you to cook for me every night. This is so fucking good." The tension in his face eases at your palpable delight, mission well accomplished. He was proud of himself. Very proud. Almost as much as you were of him.

You throw your head back, the purest form of satisfaction consuming you. "I'm glad you like it, I've been trying to nail it for weeks," Steve laughs, finally taking a bite for himself.

"Well, you've succeeded," you beam, washing it down with a sip of wine. Everybody Wants to Rule the World begins playing and you smile at Steve, knowing it was his favorite song at the moment. You nod your head along as Steve hums. A truly peaceful pocket in time.

Through the large windows opening the living room to the rest of Hawkins, you had the perfect view of the bright lights and mountainous buildings from the neighboring city. It was like the sky had flipped on its axis and the stars weren't in the sky anymore, they were among the trees and high rise properties.

"Steve, look how pretty," you point towards the window as his gaze shifts from you to raindrop-riddled glass. "I love being able to see the city so close. Sucks that we can't see the stars, though. I've always wanted to go stargazing."

"Yeah, I remember you mentioning that a while ago. We gotta go one of these days," he replied, shoving a forkful of alfredo into his mouth.

"Oh, did you wanna go too?"

He shrugs his shoulders, chewing before speaking, "Eh, I'm not really a big stars guy. Besides, if I wanna see a pretty little light, all I gotta do is look at you," he says inattentively, going right back to eating as if he hadn't just said the sweetest thing anyone's ever said to you.

"Shut up, Harrington," you roll your eyes, letting out a half-hearted laugh as you take your last bite. How could he flirt with you so easily? So carelessly? Couldn't he see that you loved him and that whenever he says things like that it does something to you? Clueless boy.

"I'm serious. Why do you think I always call you sunshine?" He replies, not a hint of irony in his face.

"Steve," you warn, sitting back in your chair. You didn't know where this conversation was going, and you'd be damned if you got your hopes up for what you always got whenever you did: absolutely nothing.

"It's why I love when you wear yellow. Reminds me of the first time I ever saw you," he pressed. He said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Clueless girl.

"Steve," your voice wavered. "What? Why do you keep saying my name like that?" He laughed, dryly.

He grew worried that he was saying too much. Saying things that a person shouldn't say to their best friend. He took a sip of his wine. Then another. Then another. He was considering just downing the whole glass. Maybe he was saying too much.

Screw that, he was in love with you.

"What're you saying to me right now?" You charged, voice a little harsher than what you'd intended, but you demanded an answer. A straightforward one. "I'm saying that I'm done hiding it."

"Hiding what?"

"That I love you."

The revelation yanks your parted lips shut, unsure of what to say next. You had dreamed for what felt like a lifetime for Steve to say those words to you and at last, it was no longer a dream, but instead reality. The rapid pace of your heartbeat could be felt in your chest and ears, and the butterflies in your stomach were more wild and untamed than ever before.

Steve's eyes didn't leave yours, though the stillness from you was killing him. The silence between you two that was once never awkward or unusual, was now painful and nearly unbearable.

Your dilated pupils scanned over his face, relentlessly. The jokey, teasing grin that he often sported when he was messing with you was unaccounted for. Holy shit. The gate to your thoughts opened once more. "You're serious," you whispered.

"How could I not be?" Steve watched you with adoring eyes, the warm light of the candle giving the melted chocolatey pond the sweetest infusion of honey.

"Kiss me."

Forks and butter knives fall to the ground with several, loud unpleasant clanks as Steve leans over the square dining table, hungrily pressing his lips against yours. His lips are garlicky and a little chapped, as yours probably are as well, yet the kiss is nothing short of perfect.

His mouth does a passionate dance against yours as you follow his lead, embracing the plush little pillows with your own. It was both everything you've imagined it'd be and nothing like you'd thought at the same time. You already knew Steve was an amazing kisser. Anyone who went to Hawkins High knew it. But experiencing it for yourself was completely different and new. It was euphoric.

The two of you have to reluctantly pull yourselves off of each other to catch your breaths. This moment was a long time coming.

Steve's hands are still holding onto to either side of your face, unwilling to let you go just yet. Truly savoring every second of the present. His breath fans across your cupid's bow, as he smiles against your lips. "You drive me crazy, you know that?"

Giggling, you wrap your palms and fingers around his wrists, rubbing your nose on his. "Sorry," you shrug, feeling his thumbs caress your warm cheeks.

"Don't be," he shakes his head, engulfing your soft lips into another kiss.

message from jojo: pls comment and reblog if you enjoyed! it means a lot <3

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adamwatchesmovies · 2 years

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Dr. T and the Women (2000)

While I didn't enjoy this film, that doesn't mean you won't. No matter what I say, the people involved in this project did it: they actually made a movie. That's something to be applauded. With that established...

It’s been a long time since I’ve hated a movie as much as I do Dr. T & The Women. The idea of someone liking this film, or even tolerating it brings my blood to a boil. Every second of its unholy 122-minute running time felt like a spool of barbed wire being pulled through one nostril and out the other.

Dr. Sullivan Travis - a.k.a. “Dr. T.” (Richard Gere) - is a gynecologist who treats some of the wealthiest women in Texas with the utmost care. His life begins to crumble when his wife, Kate (Farrah Fawcett) suffers a mental breakdown, his patients’ patience begins to run unnaturally short and his youngest daughter’s wedding draws near all at once.

I’ve done my best to clump together the standout plot points to make it seem as if this motion picture has some kind of thread you can follow. In addition to these, there are subplots about Dr. T’s daughters (Tara Reid and Kate Hudson), another about the romantic tension between the doctor, his staff and a sexy new golf instructor at the course where he plays, another about the Travis home being invaded by Dr. T’s sister-in-law (Laura Dern) and more. It doesn’t matter. Nothing in this plot matters. It’s a half-congealed mess that has no idea what it wants to say, or if it does, the message is dispensed so poorly it's incomprehensible. Not helping are the characters, each of which you come to hate with a burning intensity that threatens to melt whatever screen you’re watching the film on. You’re bored, waiting for some semblance of a conflict to emerge from the banality of a gynecologist who cares and loves women too much. Anything! Some laughs, issues that normal human beings can relate to, a bedhead-knocking love affair or an asteroid that comes down and destroys the entire state would've all been great.

Dr. T and the Women is a footlong sandwich in which all of the ingredients, including the bread, the sauce and the seasonings have been replaced by sandpaper. You don’t even know what to make of it. Is there a joke buried deep in here somewhere? You don’t assemble a cast that includes Richard Gere, Helen Hunt, Farrah Fawcett, Laura Dern, Shelley Long, Kate Hudson, Liv Tyler and Tara Reid unless you’ve got something to say, right? Well whatever it was that director Robert Altman wanted me to know, I don’t get it.

Then, there's the conclusion: a turn so weird I was convinced it was a dream or fantasy sequence – I would’ve bought Dr. T. being sucked up by a tornado and landing in Oz before what we actually get. Then, an epiphany. I get it. There’s nothing to "get"! It’s just a steamy, oozing, sticky, smelly misfire, a bodily discharge of unsatisfying and unresolved threads that add nothing to the overall package. It’s all set to a soundtrack that’s so on-the-nose it's like a trout slapped across your face.

Written by Anne Rapp, this is a shockingly misogynist film. It's so surreal it nearly comes back around and turns into a venomous letter about why men suck. You might be able to approach it from that angle and dissect the film into an interesting thought-piece but that would require the inhumane task of staying interested and awake for the whole thing. I can’t believe a major plot point of this story is that a man loves a woman and takes care of her so well her mind unravels to the point of madness. Every cell in my body pulsates with hatred when I think of Dr. T & The Women. (On VHS, April 4, 2018)

#Dr. T and the Women #movies #films #movie reviews #film reviews #robert altman #Anne Rapp #Richard Gere #Helen Hunt #Farrah Fawcett #Laura Dern #Shelley Long #tara Reid #Kate Hudson #Liv Tyler #2000 movies #2000 films

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steveseddie · 7 months

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love is stored in a can of hairspray

rating: t | cw: none apply | word count: 3,189

tags: eddie munson has a crush on steve harrington, eddie munson is a sweetheart, steve has a bad hair week and eddie comes to the rescue, fluff, soft boys, first kiss, getting together

for the @steddielovemonth prompt “love is going out of your way to do something you know will make them happy” by @forgottenkanji

a/n: i'm a day late for this one but in my defense i had a wedding yesterday and it was a crazy day! enjoy!

click here to read on ao3

***

There’s a reason why Steve Harrington was dubbed “The Hair” of Hawkins.

In all the years Eddie has known Steve or known of Steve, he’s never seen him have a bad hair day.

It doesn’t matter if it’s rainy or sunny, if he’s wearing a Scoops Ahoy sailor hat or if he’s walking down the halls of Hawkins High or if he’s fighting Demobats in the Upside Down after taking a dive in Lover’s Lake, Steve Harrington’s hair always looked great. Eddie doesn’t know how he does it. Well. He kinda does ‘cause Henderson is a blabbermouth who let Steve’s secret about the Farrah Fawcett hairspray slip one time, but Eddie still doesn’t understand how Steve always makes his hair look like that. He thinks there’s got to be magic involved, a deal with the devil so that Steve’s hair never looks bad.

That is until today.

Eddie arrives at the Wheeler residence and announces himself by ringing the bell three times just to be annoying. He waits for someone to come open the door for him, and in the meantime, crouches down to tie his Converse. The door opens while Eddie is still on the floor and the first thing he sees is a pristine pair of white Nikes that he could recognize anywhere.

“Well, well, well,” he says, tightening the laces and springing to his feet. “If it isn’t my favorite guy in all of Hawkins, I didn’t know you’d be- Jesus H. Christ, dude! What happened to your hair?” He blurts out the last part when his eyes land on Steve’s head. Or the thick untidy mass where his perfect hair should be, with strands matted on his forehead above his furrowed brow.

“Fuck you, man,” Steve grumbles and crosses his arms over his chest.

Eddie feels a little bad, but his mouth-to-brain already leaves so much to be desired around Steve on a good day-

Not that Steve looks bad. Eddie is convinced that he couldn’t look bad if he tried, but right now he certainly doesn’t look like The Hair of Hawkins.

“Sorry, it’s just-” He waves vaguely at Steve’s head. “What’s up with that?”

Steve groans loudly. “A bunch of my products are sold out at every fucking store in Hawkins,” he explains for what seems to be not for the first time today. “Been meaning to drive to the next town over to get them, but I’ve been picking up so many extra shifts at Family Video that I haven’t had the time.”

Eddie nods. Steve told him he was trying to save up money to move out of his parents’ house, but it was slow going, so he started working more shifts recently to speed up the process. He’s been seeing less of Steve because of that, which Eddie hates, but he understands the urge to get out of that house.

“That sucks, man.”

Steve pouts, pink bottom lip jutting out. “Tell me about it, I look-” he gestures at his head and trails off with a huff.

“It’s not that bad,” Eddie says, but Steve raises an eyebrow at him.

“Wheeler asked if a hamster died on my head,” he deadpans.

Fucking Wheeler. He’s gonna make him regret it during tonight’s campaign.

“Please, those kids wouldn’t know a good haircut if it bit them in the ass,” Eddie says, and Steve smiles a little. “Sure, it’s- different. Not what we’re all used to, but you still look-” Handsome, hot, beautiful. “You still look good, Harrington.”

Steve’s cheeks pink up slightly. “Thanks, Munson, but I don’t feel good, I don’t know. It’s just hair and it’s stupid, but I feel off.” He groans in frustration. “Whatever, I’ll just have to wait two weeks and then-”

“Two weeks?”

“That’s when I finally get a day off.”

Eddie blows out a puff of air. “Jesus, Steve.”

“Apartments aren’t cheap, man,” Steve says with a shrug. “But I think Keith might make me manager by the end of the month. That would bump up my pay a bit, I just have to, you know, show him I can do it.”

“You got this, Stevie,” Eddie says, patting Steve’s cheek. “No one rewinds and restocks like you do.”

Steve rolls his eyes, but his lips twitch up into a smile.

“If you two are done, we have a campaign to start!” Dustin says, appearing behind Steve and giving them both an exasperated look.

They exchange one themselves at Dustin’s tone, which they agree that he still needs to get in check.

“Yeah, yeah, we’re coming,” Steve says and Eddie tries not to jump in excitement when he realizes Steve is staying instead of just dropping off the kiddos. He’s been hanging around more and more during Hellfire meetings recently, even if he still doesn’t want to play. Eddie can’t complain about the last part, he likes just having him there.

He steps inside and Steve closes the door.

Dustin stares at Steve’s head.

“Quit staring, Henderson!” Steve protests and Dustin holds his hands up in defense.

“Sorry, sorry, it’s just bad, dude.”

These fucking kids.

Eddie whacks Dustin upside the head. “Just for that, I’m making you roll with disadvantage for every attack you make tonight .”

Dustin’s eyes bulge out. “What! That’s not fair!” He protests loudly as they walk towards the basement.

Eddie suspects that Steve doesn’t know necessarily what that means, but he still gives him a grateful smile.

***

Eddie stares at the bag of hair products in his passenger seat.

He’s always been a whatever shampoo Wayne picks up from the store kind of guy, he’s never really spent money on hair products. Until now. And they’re not even for him.

He just spent a stupid amount of money on them, mostly because, even if he remembers how some of the bottles and hairspray cans Steve uses look like from using his bathroom when he stays over, he wasn’t sure which are the ones that Steve needs. So he bought a bunch of them.

In that moment, he wasn’t thinking about the money or how it might look to Steve that he knew what hair products he uses or that he drove to another town to get them. He was only thinking about Steve’s defeated look every time someone stared at his hair or commented on it, how he self-consciously tried to fix it at work every time a customer came in, how when they hung out at his house he would hide his hair under the hood of a sweater.

But now, parked in front of Steve’s house an hour before their movie night, Eddie does think about what he did- and he seriously considers leaving the bag on Steve’s doorstep and fleeing. It’s too much. It’s too ‘I have a big crush on you and I want you to be happy so bad that I drove to another town and raided the Hair and Beauty section at a store just so you can stop walking around looking like a kicked puppy’.

But at the same time, he did this so he could see Steve smile and it would be a shame to miss it. He just hopes that Steve is too distracted by having his beloved hair products that he won’t think too hard about what Eddie did, or what it might mean.

With a short prayer to whoever’s listening so that Steve doesn’t figure out his crush today and rejects him, Eddie grabs the bag and walks up the driveway.

He knocks on the door before he can talk himself out of it, and bounces from foot to foot while he waits, hiding the bag behind him.

Steve opens the door and when he sees Eddie his eyebrows shoot up in his face, disappearing behind the few hairs that hang over his forehead. Over the last week, Steve experimented with other products, and while he managed to make his hair look a little less like something died up there, it’s still not the same. “Eddie?”

“Hey, Stevie.”

He checks his watch. “You’re early. Actually no, you’re always late so being on time is early for you, you’re like, really fucking early.”

Eddie snorts. “First of all, I’m never late, I arrive precisely when I have to.” Steve rolls his eyes. “But today I’m really fucking early, as you so eloquently put it, because I had to do some shopping first and then I drove straight here. In fact, I come bearing gifts,” he says, hands shaking a little with anticipation.

Steve eyes him curiously. “For the kids?”

“For you, my King,” Eddie says, finally allowing Steve to see the bag and presenting it to him in the most dramatic way. Hinging at the waist, holding the bag over his head, the works.

“Eddie, what are you- wait, is that- oh.” Steve goes silent when realization hits and Eddie starts spiraling. He tries to make light of it. “I humbly present to you the magic potions for your characteristic luscious hair, your Majesty.”

But when he glances up at Steve through his lashes, he looks like he’s close to crying. For a moment, he worries that he fucked up- bought all the wrong hairsprays and shampoos and now Steve is mad at him-

But then Steve is grabbing Eddie’s shoulders and yanking him up for a hug where the bag ends up squished between them.

“Christ, Eddie, thank you,” he says against his shoulder, and Eddie feels a sense of accomplishment wash over him, as well as butterflies flying in his stomach from Steve holding him like this.

One of Eddie’s arms wraps around Steve’s waist. “I don’t know if I got all the right ones ‘cause I have shit memory, but I recognized some of the bottles from your bathroom and the lady at the store helped me find your famous Farrah Fawcett spray-”

He trails off when Steve squeezes him tighter. “I can’t believe you’d do this,” he murmurs, almost to himself, but Eddie hears it anyway.

“I had some shopping to do,” Eddie says casually, but it’s like Steve is squeezing the words out of him with his arms because he keeps talking. “And you’ve been walking around with your head low and those sad puppy eyes all week, and I couldn’t take it anymore.”

Steve pulls back and Eddie braces himself for Steve calling him out for overstepping or something, but instead he looks shyly at Eddie.

“I know it’s stupid like, it’s just hair and it shouldn’t matter that much, but it’s just- it’s important to me. I might not like “the Hair” thing but I am like, proud of my hair and this week I just haven’t felt like myself and people keep making comments and-” He shakes his head, a few rebellious strands falling on his forehead. “Anyway just, this means a lot, Eds, thank you.”

“Of course, Steve,” Eddie says with a smile. They stare at each other for a little too long, and Eddie starts fidgeting. “Now aren’t you happy that I got here so early? Gives you just enough time to get through your hair routine before everyone else gets here.”

Steve chuckles. “You don’t mind waiting while I fix this?” He gestures at his head, and Eddie shakes his.

“I can entertain myself just fine,” Eddie says, stepping inside when Steve sweeps his arm over the entrance.

“Okay, I’ll be back soon.”

Eddie grins. “Yeah, go doll up for me, sweetheart,” he teases and hears the way Steve’s breath catches, his eyes widening slightly and his cheeks tinting pink.

Then Steve moves in and places a quick kiss on Eddie’s cheek. “Thanks again, Eds,” he says and then he’s running upstairs.

Eddie stands there for at least ten minutes, red in the face, before he can make himself move.

***

Steve still hasn’t come downstairs by the time the doorbell rings so Eddie answers it.

Dustin is at the head of the arriving party and he raises an eyebrow at him when he sees him. “You’re on time,” he says, perplexed.

“And you’re a butthead,” Eddie replies and the other kids snigger behind Dustin. “Are you gonna come in or what?”

With an eye roll that is pure Steve, Dustin walks in followed by Wheeler, Sinclair and Max, and finally Robin and Nancy, who drove them all there.

Buckley narrows his eyes at him as she walks in. “Why are you on time?” She asks. “Unless you got here early so you and Steve could hang out alooone?” The way she says “alone” makes Eddie flush, which doesn’t help deny what she’s implying, even if it isn’t true.

Luckily, at that moment, Steve comes down the stairs and everyone’s attention turns to him.

“Dude, you got rid of the dead hamster finally!” Mike says and Max flicks him in the ear. Eddie smirks, that’s why she’s his favorite.

“He’s back!” Dustin cheers as soon as Steve’s hair is visible. Eddie smiles at the familiar look, but mostly at the way Steve smiles and holds himself, the slouch and the sad puppy eyes gone.

“There’s my handsome best friend,” Robin hoots and Nancy puts her thumb and index finger in her mouth and lets out an impressive whistle.

“Okay, okay,” Steve says, waving off their compliments and reactions as he reaches the ground floor. “Yes, the hair is back, we can move on now. There are movies to watch.”

He starts to usher them in the direction of the living room to get their movie night started now that they’re all here.

“Dude, I thought it would be two weeks before you could buy your hair things,” Lucas says, looking at Steve over his shoulder.

Steve freezes, his eyes darting to Eddie before he just shrugs at Sinclair, who probably doesn’t care that much about it because he just accepts that as a reasonable answer and follows the others to the couch.

The same can’t be said about Buckley.

“How did you get your hair products, Steve? ‘Cause I know you didn’t have them yesterday and you were working all day today.”

Their eyes meet again and Eddie gives a small shrug. They both know Buckley won’t drop it until she knows the truth.

“Eddie got them for me,” Steve says, mouth curling up in a smile that he directs at Eddie.

Buckley’s head snaps in his direction too, but she’s smirking, her eyes sparkling. “Oh did he?”

“Uh, yeah, I did.”

“You drove to another town, spent time and money on gas, and then spent more money just to get Steve his hair products?”

“Yup,” he says, popping the ‘p’, trying to be casual, but he can feel the heat on his cheeks.

“How generous of you,” she says but it sounds a lot like, ‘I see you and your big gay crush on my best friend’.

Eddie’s eyes dart to Steve. With their platonic bond it sometimes feels like they can read each other’s minds and Eddie wonders if Steve can see what she sees. He flushes brighter at the thought.

“Come on, Nance, let’s get started with the popcorn,” she says, hooking her arm with Nancy’s and dragging her away, leaving Steve and Eddie alone in the hallway.

“I’m sorry about her,” Steve says with a light chuckle. “And listen I can pay you- for the gas and for the products.”

Eddie shakes his head. “You don’t have to, I told you, they’re gifts.”

Steve ducks his head shyly and a strand of hair falls on his forehead with the movement. On impulse, Eddie reaches out to tuck it back into place. There, now Steve’s hair is perfectly styled again. He smiles. “Besides, it was worth it.”

“Oh.” Steve licks his lips a little nervously and Eddie can’t help but track the movement with his eyes. “You- you must really like my hair,” he whispers, eyes wide and expectant.

Eddie considers taking the out, making some joke about having always admired “the Hair” or something like that, but he finds that he doesn’t want to. Not with Steve looking at him like he would like hearing the truth.

So, Eddie takes a deep breath and hopes that he’s reading this right.

“I do, I really like it, but it’s not just that. You could walk around with a hamster on your head or get a buzz cut like El, and I’d still like it. I just. I like you.”

A slow grin appears on Steve’s face. “You really think I would look good with a buzz cut?”

A nervous laugh tumbles over Eddie’s lips. “Out of everything I said that’s what you-”

Steve shakes his head, cupping Eddie’s jaw with one hand and effectively shutting him up. “No, I- I like you too, Eddie.”

He sighs in relief. “Oh, thank God.”

And then, he grabs a handful of Steve’s shirt and pulls him towards him, crashing their lips together.

The moment they touch, Eddie lets out a low whine before he remembers that the kiddos are in the next room and Buckley and Wheeler could walk out of the kitchen any minute. So he tries to keep it down as he licks into Steve’s mouth, even if Steve kissing back just as passionately should be enough to drag more noises out of him.

It’s not until Eddie’s hands start moving from his shoulder to his neck on the way to his hair that Steve stops him, his fingers grabbing a hold of Eddie’s wrist and pulling away just enough to speak against Eddie’s lips.

Eddie chases after Steve’s mouth with another whine.

“Jesus,” Steve gasps. “We probably should- If this week proved anything is that out friends are overly invested in my hair so they’ll notice if you mess it up with your hands.” Eddie makes a disgruntled sound. Steve’s fingers catch one of Eddie’s curls, twirling it around it. “But if you want, after everyone leaves you can stay and I can, you know, pay you back for this.” He gestures at his hair.

Eddie’s brain must be melting out of his ears from kissing Steve because he dumbly says, “I told you that you don’t have to-” before he understands the meaning behind the words when he sees Steve’s smirk. “Oh. Yeah. I can think of a few ways you can do that.”

The way he waggles his eyebrows makes Steve giggle adorably, but before Eddie can kiss him about it, Robin pops her head out of the kitchen, making them jump.

“If you two are done giggling like teenagers, come help with the popcorn before the actual teenagers start a riot.”

“Aye, Captain Buckley,” Eddie says with a two-fingered salute. This time Steve muffles his giggle behind his hand.

With the other, he grabs hold of Eddie’s and starts dragging him to the kitchen. The whole time, Eddie feels like he’s floating.

He’s happy he made the trip, he’s happy he got Steve his hair products, he’s happy his hair are back to normal.

And he’s even more happy that he gets to mess it up later when he kisses Steve again after everyone leaves.

#steddielovemonth #day 29 #i wasn't planning on writing more of these prompts but this idea came to me yesterday and i ended up loving it!#steddie #stranger things #stranger things fic #eddie munson #steve harrington #monse writes

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sadly-never-after · 20 days

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God this escalated but I had so much fun with it

Some headcanons about duchess relationships

Canon (kind of) Friends

Sparrow Hood

Sparrow gave her the earrings she wears with her main outfit.

They were friends since they were kids but they started drifting apart on their first two years of high school because of the royal vs. Rebel conflict and Duchess growing bitterness over her destiny. Their first real and biggest fight was on True Heart’s Day and they later had another falling out because of NTV. However shortly after they started reconciling and by the time the Spring Unsprung Festival came they were back to normal.

One time during one of their quarrels, Duchess transformed into a swan and left angry. Later he found her and tried talking to her. They had to do some throne work together and eh was too tired to keep being angry. He tried to talk with her but she wouldn’t transform back so he took her in his arms and carried her to their classes. She still refused to transform back and he was getting annoyed because she pecked and batter her wings at him the entire time. The teachers asked him why he brought that bird to class and he was just like “It’s Duchess. She is just honked off” He basically dragged her to lunch and sat them down with Kitty & Faybelle. He explained and they smiled. Faybelle said “I hope she gives you hell” and Kitty giggled to his annoyance. After classes were almost finished he saw her eat a bug and he started getting worried. He thought for some reason her curse had taken hold of her and was terrified. He asked Cupid which Princes at school had just gotten in a relationship because maybe if he broke them up Duchess would go back to being normal. Among other people, when he was borderline desperate, he realised Dexter (epitome of a “failing” prince) had finally gotten together with Raven. He tried to break them up because maybe Dexter was meant to be Duchess’s prince. When that didn’t work the two tried talking to him. He explained and Raven agreed to help him break Duchess spell. They want to pick Duchess, whom Sparrow had left in his Treehouse. Her magic didn’t work, probably because it was a benign spell and Sparrow almost broke down, they then headed to the students lounge to get Farrah. As soon as they entered they saw Lizzie, Kitty, Faybelle & Duchess playing cards together. His first emotion was immense relief and he gave her a hug so hard he ended up lifting her in the air. He was so happy he didn’t care when she called him bird bray and yelled for him to let her go. Then he realised he had been carrying some random bird around school the entire day and that people had seen him cry because of Duchess. He was less relieved. Embarrassed…slightly confused over how much the entire thing seemed to affect him.

Duchess has only taken two people to see her mother. When she took Sparrow, she didn’t tell him about her mother, she just took him to the lake. He got bored really fast because of how quiet she got and because she told him not to make any noise. Then he started commenting on the swans and was like “what’’s up with that one?” when he saw one that was further away from the others and hissed at nothing. Duchess didn’t answer and just kept feeding the other swans. Then she started crying “Man someone should put that thing out of its misery.” and she responded with angry tears on her eyes, “That’s my mother.” He didn’t say much for the rest of the day. They just stayed there and he put a hand on Duchess shoulder when she started crying, he sat next to her, played some of her favourite songs and after a while she rested her head on his shoulder. Later they walked back together and they haven’t spoken about it ever since.

After that happened, he started feeling a bit weird around Duchess and then after some soul-searching he realised he was a bit in love with her. Not a crush, didn’t feel as passionate as a crush, but maybe equally intense. He decided not to act on it though because he is not that stupid and knows it would be really destructive and unhealthy. He told Tucker about it and told him he and the band always suspected it but they didn’t want it to be true.

Duchess’s grandmother dislikes him a lot. She is always relieved when they get into a fight and always disappointed once the two start hanging out again. However, since this has never negatively affected Duchess’s academic performance she lets it pass. As strange as it is, he does find it weirdly touching that she defends him.

They usually spend parents weekend together. Maid Mariam is busy as she is part of the teaching staff and Sparrow’s dad is dead. The two just hang out together and judge (secretly envy) every student who is having a sweet time with their parents.

It annoys her a lot but she has never missed a single one of his concerts. At first she would claim she just happened to be around and din’t know they were going to play. Later when he started playing for the school she excused herself saying it was because she couldn’t just avoid it. As of now she usually claims that she has nothing better to do but no one believes her.

However, she always does his makeup for the stage. She knows about that stuff, being a ballerina, and she claims she doesn’t want him to look ridiculous because it will affect her reputation (pls take that hat off). At first Sparrow hated it because he thought it was girly but there was something relaxing and cozy about closing his eyes and letting her use brushes on his face. By now he actually likes it a lot and even wears eyeliner with most of his outfits.

He got Duchess into listening some of his favourite bands and recurrently makes her mixtapes that consist mostly of rock versions of classical music, some of his newest songs. They have spats about infamous female punk rock Idol, Courtly Love. Duchess defends all of her actions.

Faybelle Thorn

They met at spellementary school and became fast friends by neither of them being intimidated by the other. It was a welcomed challenge that developed into genuine friendship over the years. Initially, Duchess’s grandmother wasn’t very approving of their friendship and was even rather unnerved by Duchess’s two main friends being the lazy son of a known criminal and the very competitive daughter of a known evil-doer. She isn’t overly fond of Faybelle but has seen how happy this friendship has made Duchess and became a lot more supportive of the two when she realised how their competitive side got them to be on top of their classes.

They have quarrels about the differences between being a cheer hexer and a ballerina. Faybelle tried to convince her to get into cheer hexing but after thinking about it more deeply she realised that could be detrimental to their friendship since they would get overly competitive

Their second year at school distanced them a little because they have very few classes together and each of them is also giving their 100% on throne work and extracurriculars so they made a promise to try to have a sleepover/friendly date every Sunday and pick each other as partners for class assignments as often as possible. Once Bunny was assigned as Fay's roommate it, Duchess & Bunny just switched dorms so the wondelrandians could have sleepovers at Duchess & Lizzie's dorm.

They are the sort of friends who can spend months without talking but still refer to the other as "my best friend forever after" when talking to other people.

Mutually judge each other over Briar/Sparrow.

They borrow each others jewellery all the time to the point sometimes they don't know who it actually belongs to.

Fay has a tendency to do cheers for Duchess after she's done with a performance. Duchess is usually embarrassed by how inappropriate they are for a ballet function but she always gives her a hug and thanks her for it.

Faybelle is the friend with whom she is never sad when she is around. She knows how to cheer her up, how to be so mean that Duchess can take it as motivation. She knows how to provoke her into action

Duchess has only taken two people to see her mother. Sparrow is one, as already mentioned, and Faybelle is the other. Unlike with Sparrow, Duchess told her that she wanted to take her to meet her mother. Faybelle immediately knew which swan was Duchess's mom. How could she now? Looking all scared and aggressive? With all that bare skin from plucking its own feathers? Something was obviously wrong with that animal. It was a really difficult thing to see and they didn't say a word while Duchess threw bread crumbs and fruits at the swans but Faybelle thinks of it as "The moment she knew she would never forsake Duchess". She hugged her mother extra tight the next time she saw her.

Duchess told Faybelle about the entire deal of her ending up in General Villainy class and of the possibility of her becoming the evil queen and Faybelle was charmed. She knows that’s not Duchess’s ideal ending but come on!!! We could rule the world together! She isn’t pressuring her or anything but man she would love it if Duchess embraced a destiny of villainy instead one of punished selflessness.

Lizzie Hearts

First they both thought that the other was too loud and talked too much. Now they send each other “the yapper-the listener” memes but both of them are convinced of being the listener and think of each other as the yapper.

They started warming up to each other as the months passed by. Lizzie felt more at home with Duchess brutal honesty and sarcasm than with the other princess and Duchess started spending a lot of time with her and Kitty. It was really nice for her to finally have a fellow princess to bond with.

They had a massive fall out due to Next Top Villain. Even after Duchess saved Lizzie, it was still a bit awkward around them. Just when things were getting almost back to normal…the thing with Daring happened. It distanced them even more and brought a lot of conflicting feelings for the two of them. It took a lot of time for the two of them to mend their friendship again.

After they got over the entire fiasco with Daring , they decided that from then on they would take each other on a date to the cinema once or twice a month. They loved “Lost in Riddlish”.

Only four people know about what happened with Lizzie, Daring & Duchess at the cinema; Kitty, Lizzie, Daring & Duchess. The two of them have talked about it quite often to the point where Duchess thinks Lizzie was maybe flat out in love with Daring. One time she asked her, months after it had happened and Lizzie started crying and didn’t answer.

Duchess knew they were back to being friends, perhaps even better friends than they had ever been, and that she had been truly forgiven, when Lizzie gave her a present. It was her Birthday Ball dress, sewn by Lizzie herself.

If Faybelle is the friend with whom she is never sad when she is around, then Lizzie is the friend with whom she can allow herself to be sad. Their history has been turbulent and perhaps because of it, there’s an air of melancholy but coziness when they are alone. Sometimes they just lay on the carpet and talk until the late hours of the night. Lizzie doesn’t necessarily feel understood when she tries telling her about her issues with having to flee Wonderland, but she feels seen and acknowledged.

They know each others orders both for Hocus Latte and Wonderland Haberdashery & Tea Shoppe. Sometimes when they know the other is stressed out because of hexams they will pick up something for them without asking. It’s a small detail they cherish in their friendship.

During their summer vacations after their second year, Duchess invited Lizzie to her Grandmother’s home and they spent the holidays together. Out of Duchess’s few friends, Lizzie is by far her Grandmother’s favourite. The two spent a lot of time swimming around the lakes, Lizzie taught Duchess how to play croquet (with custom swan looking mallets), and she also found a lot of fashion inspiration in the scenery. It was Lizzie’s favourite trip since she left Wonderland. (She sent her mother pictures)

Lizzie is now teaching her how to speak riddlish because she would eventually like to take her to Wonderland one day too.

Family

⛸️･:*:｡Duchess’s Grandmother

She is her paternal grandmother. Her father is currently spending the rest of her life happily married to his Odile and him and Duchess have never been allowed to contact each other. She isn’t affected by it as hardly as she should be. It has been like this for generations, so she doesn’t question it much. Duchess’s Grandmother doesn’t talk about her son, she had to break contact with him as well the day she started caring for Duchess. The fact that the Book of Legends chose him as the next Prince Siegfried is proof that he wasn’t an appropriate Prince Charming and she takes this as her own failure in raising a proper prince. This is why she is strict in regards to Duchess being the best possible student she can be. She is quite proud of Duchess following her advice and being a top student. She still misses her son.

One of the few things she truly dislikes about Duchess are her friends. She would have much rather liked it if Duchess had been more amiable and well-mannered, maybe spending time with Apple White or Darling Charming; princesses of good families with actual respect for tradition and propriety. Instead she gets a common thief with no taste for the arts, a mediocre gymnast (she considers cheer-hexing a bastardised and clearly inferior version of ballet) and a homeless princess with anger issues.

She deeply loves Duchess, even if she’s sometimes a bit cold towards her, she considers her the daughter she could never have and deeply fears the day her fairytale begins because she doesn’t know how she could bare having to lose another child. Sadly, Duchess’s rebelling wouldn’t solve any of this. She would be too ashamed of both of the children she raised being “failures”.

She heavily discourages Duchess from dating, not wanting her to get attached to anyone knowing what awaits her at the end. She knows of her crush on Daring and doesn’t mind letting her daydream because she knows a son of the Charming Family will never pay attention to her, so it’s not like she’ll have any false hopes.

They love ice-skating together. It was Duchess’s Grandmother who taught her and it’s their favourite winter activity. .

She used to attend every single one of her ballet performances and was on the first row smiling reassuringly. Her health started declining once Duchess started her time at EAH but whenever she can’t be there, she sends her a bouquet with a letter and has the school film the act for her.

Duchess gets her snark, sarcastic and mean side from her and both of them love that. They like to judge other people’s outfits together and always share gossip with each other.

‎♡₊˚ 🦢・₊✧ Odette (Duchess’s mother (I want to call her Bella Swan. Stop me.))

She started writing a series of letters for Duchess after signing the storybook of legends, knowing that her end was near. She asked Milton Grimm to give them to her once Duchess started attending EAH but once students started to rebel against their destiny he felt that it could mislead Duchess into trying to rebel so he decided to burn them.

During the first months of Duchess’s life, the first months of Odette’s transformation, she was still conscious of her life and of being a woman trapped in the body of a swan. She would fly up to Duchess room and would settle next to her sleeping body, letting her baby hug her neck.

Sometimes Duchess’s grandmother brought Duchess to her mother’s lake and would watch as Odette & Duchess splashed around the water.

When Duchess was four she once ran toward her and Odette instinctively batted her wings at her and hit her hard enough for Duchess to fall into the water. She didn’t know why she did. It just felt natural to her. When she tried to soothe her by rubbing her peak next to her daughters face her daughter backed away and for some reason Odette hissed and raised her wings as a warning once again. That very same day she realised how strange her feathers felt. They itched and she started plucking them away with her beak but the skin was still left raw, burning.

When Duchess was five she still went to the lake as often as she could but Odette no longer truly recognised her. She felt some sense of affection for the kid but didn’t know who those people were to her. Whenever she saw her or the Grandmother she started plucking her feathers, completely confused and irritated by something she couldn’t quite identify.

When Duchess was six the swan didn’t approach her anymore, not at all. It wouldn’t get near her or her grandmother when they started throwing crumbs at the lake and she would hiss if they tried to approach it. It seemed to avoid the other swans as well and it’s skin was bare, a little bloody.

Duchess’s grandmother stopped taking her to that lake after that. Duchess goes once or twice a year on her own now but most of the time she avoids it.

Not friends but honorary friends/people she treats better than she treats most people

Courtly Jester

Ok, hear me out, Courtly considers Duchess her friend, even her bffa. Duchess DOES NOT consider Courtly her friend, they don't know each other that well on her opinion, but Duchess undoubtedly admires Courtly even if she knows she shouldn't.

This is the girl who had the guts to do what Duchess has been dreaming of doing. Take the destiny you think you deserve! To hell with those who are given that which you are denied! Even if by doing so you endanger the friend I deeply care about and whom I have already fucked up with badly! Twice!

With this in mind, obviously Duchess was a bit more open to Courtly when she enrols at EAH. Not overly friendly but more of "the one not straight up mean kid". She was concerned because of her fragile friendship with Lizzie and how this could affect it. Courtly kind of attaches herself to Duchess due to this minimal act of kindness.

Nevertheless, Duchess will admit that she likes it when Courtly sits next to her at class. 1. Because that means all of Courtly's fucking bells won't be in the way of her seeing the board and 2. Because she will make nonsensical and funny remarks about the other students and it will make her giggle. She finds it a bit sweet to realise most of the people she draws in are like this (Faybelle, Sparrow).

Kitty Cheshire

They barely interacted until Duchess & Lizzie became roommates. Kitty was amiable at first since Lizzie didn't talk too badly about her and they even became fast friends, going for tea dates at the Wonderland Haberdashery & Tea Shoppe, hanging out at the lake together and overall just hanging out together. Lizzie was their union most of them time but they liked each other.

....Then Duchess publicly humiliated and betrayed Lizzie because of the next top villain assignment...Kitty couldn't stand her anymore and would have made her life impossible had it not been for Lizzie. When Lizzie & Duchess reconciled Kitty kept being cold but wasn't on attack mode.

....And then the thing with Daring happened... and even if Lizzie knew it wasn't Duchess fault and it didn't fully strain their friendship, it did affect Kitty & Duchess's slowly recovering friendship... And then just when things were getting better between them and they were back to sitting together at the casstleria...Courtly called Duchess her BFFA... Kitty is now hostile, even if it's one-sided and even if she and Courtly get along pretty well. Duchess & Kitty can be in the next room and spend time together with Lizzie, but Kitty will not answer any of Duchess comments unless it's with malice. You don't find them alone anymore.

Duchess actually really misses her. Sometimes she talks to Lizzie about it in their shared moments of nostalgia and Lizzie doesn't reassure her. Duchess still misses her.

Nathan Nutcracker

Had to partner once because Duchess was sick the day the partners were assigned and her teacher “forgot” about her. It was a catastrophe. She was already frustrated and when he almost dropped her, she took it out on him and treated him badly. Later, after prompted by Lizzie, seeing how sad he was + the fact that they still needed to work together for a dance she ended up apologising. Nathan then convinced her of exchanging their roles and costumes! Although Duchess was initially very reluctant they did and it was a success.

After that, they were short guy in ballet/tall girl in ballet solidarity.

They have very sassy pretend-mean debates on classic ballet vs modern ballet, and on whether ballets is an art and sport or only an art. Nathan is a defender of modern ballet and considers it to be also a sport.

They tease each other about their love lives; Duchess teases him about Briar & Cedar (he denies both of them but blushes and stutters) and Nathan teases her about Daring & Sparrow (She openly admits Daring and vehemently denies being into Sparrow but seems a lot more passionate when talking about Sparrow for some reason. )

Maid Marian

When Duchess & Sparrow were kids it was Mariam who encouraged them to befriend each other. She knew Duchess mom and felt sad upon seeing this lonely girl. This backfired somewhat because they became menaces together and started bullying Raven.

She loves how responsible she is (and how Sparrow becomes a bit more responsible when they are on good terms) and is one of the few teachers who treats her justly, often involving her in the class and sometimes even showing some slight favouritism (although Darling is her actual favourite) by making snarky side comments.

Suspects Sparrow might be into her but has never said anything about it because she doesn’t want to get in the way of their relationship regardless of how it develops.

Is rooting so hard for her to rebel. She has thought about it so much, is daydreaming of plans and subtly tries to inspire her to do so by telling her about how she got her happy ending by going off page. She even sets her up with Darling in partner assignments to try to influence her (this is what Duchess lets down her hair should have been about).

Melody Piper

Had a warm but not particular relationship. The two of them regarded each other as "that other girl who hangs out with Sparrow sometimes".

But! after Melody asked her dad to help her mix some of his classic music with her beats, Duchess became one of her biggest fans. The two would hang out together to plan choreographies for Duchess to dance so Blondie could advertise Melody's newest album on her MirrorCast. Melody still considers her to be too dramatic and high maintenance for them to become friends but it was a cool thing both of them experience and it made them think more fond of each other. It established a type of warmth.

After that they became two snarky menaces for Sparrow to suffer. They annoy the hell out of him and usually they even get the support of the merry men...sometimes even his mom's.

(She lowkey likes Melody's music more than Sparrow's but she won't hurt him that bad.)

Humphrey Dumpty

After Humphrey helped her on Muse-Ic class, he decided to follow her on MyChapter. To everyone’s surprise, she followed him back. Sometimes she even comments or likes his posts.

They share tips on how to help with each others chronic pain and complain about it together. Duchess gave him a pass through her spa membership and he recommended her a good physiotherapist.

Duchess sometimes asks him to film her practicing when she is trying to improve on something or when she realises that she’s making certain mistakes on her steps. He’s been teaching her how to work with a camera because of it.

He wrote a rap for Meeshell and decided to perform it for Duchess since she was a girl and he wanted to know what she thought of it. She didn’t have the heart to tell him the truth because of this being one of the first times someone who isn’t Sparrow, Faybelle or Lizzie cares for her opinion, and also because she figured Meeshell would probably like it regardless.

Littlest billy goat gruff

He is her abhorrent admirer, alright, but she knows what that’s like and quite honestly it’s just nice to feel like someone likes her a bit. She feels weird around him because he is one of the few people she doesn’t want to be rude to but she also doesn’t want to date him.

Sometimes she sees him eating grass and flowers around the lake and it makes her chuckle a bit because it reminds her of how she would eats water plants and insects when she was a kid. One time she eats a lily flower in front of him and he is so astonished his mouth hangs open. Then the two laugh.

Protective over the little guy.

One time he heard about Sparrow inviting her to one of his concerts and he asked if he could go too. It was a lot more fun than anyone expected.

Tucker

Ok listen it’s not that Tucker hates her or anything but he’s so tired of all the unnecessary drama surrounding her and Sparrow’s friendship/love life/situationship/whatever the fuck is going on between them.

However when the two are co-existing alone they can be pretty amiable with each other.

He actually really likes working with her as a partner in muse-ic class. Since she is pretty bad at it she allows him to take the lead on the creative aspects while she acts more responsible about the theoretical and more objective parts of the assignment. And it’s refreshing to play “the face of the band” for a short bit even when he usually prefers to stay in the shadows as the second guitar.

When Duchess gave him a mood rose after they were shot with cupids arrows on “Heart Stuck” it turned yellow and although they’ve never talked about it, he was kind of touched by it.

The Dark Fairy

They Have a good bond over both of them loving Faybelle.

Although Duchess’s Grandmother is irreplaceable, Duchess sometimes thinks that, had she gotten to meet her mother as a person, she would have liked her to be like The Dark Fairy.

The two planned a party once and didn’t invite Faybelle. When Faybelle discovered it and irrupted in an overly dramatic way she found out it was her birthday party. It was the only reason she didn’t curse Duchess and instead gave her a really hard hug and The Dark Fairy was extremely proud of her daughter.

Dark Fairy has sometimes wondered if perhaps she can break or at least twist Duchess future curse after all the necessary parts of her destiny have been acted out.

Meeshell Mermaid

Was very weary on the new kid but once she found out about her destiny, Duchess became more soft-hearted around her because of how both of them are so very doomed by the narrative and a prince who chooses another girl

She once went to her lake to dance and found Meeshell already there, swimming and singing gleefully. Meeshell wanted to leaves, she was embarrassed and a bit afraid since she had heard of (and witnessed) Duchess's cruel reputation. Duchess however, very surprisingly told her she could stay if she wanted and the two just ignored the other as each indulged in their respective passion.

The more time passed the more the two started warming of to each other even if they didn't talk much.

One day Meeshell was oddly happy and excited and Duchess commented on it, which lead her to tell Duchess about her Date with Humphrey. The two had an oddly intimate and long conversation that day about what it means to have a future in which you are meant to be unloved and how this influences them to become unloveable while deeply starving for validation. They didn't become immediate friends but it was one of those things that neither of them forget about and ever since there is a sense of mutual understanding between the two

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loveinhawkins · 2 years

Text

Part 1

The walk passes slowly, as if the length of the tracks has more than doubled since the last time he was here. It seems longer than a couple of years ago, when Steve had strolled alongside him, talking about Farrah Fawcett spray.

Dustin kind of feels like he’s following a breadcrumb trail that he can’t see—like his body already knows where to go before his mind does.

He finds that the junkyard isn’t all that different; the only discernible difference is that the bus they once took refuge in is no longer there. It means that there’s more empty space, his eyes darting around until he lands on Steve, who’s sat with his back pressed up against the wheel of a rusty, broken down car—clearly not bothering to take shelter from the rain.

The relief at the sight of Steve is short-lived; as he nears the car, Dustin starts to get a sinking feeling, like when he reads a detective story and the mystery is solved too soon—there’s too many pages left.

So he doesn’t rush over, moves slow and steady, one step at a time. And he starts to notice…

Steve is dressed in a threadbare T-shirt, and his sweatpants look old and worn, a few inches too short around the ankles. As Dustin gets within touching distance, he realises that Steve must be wearing what he’d gone to sleep in last night.

“Steve?” Dustin says hesitantly.

Steve doesn’t respond, but his eyebrows furrow in a vague way, as if he’s heard Dustin, albeit distantly. His hair is damp from the mist and rain, his sneakers mud-stained. He doesn’t have socks on.

Dustin wonders how long he’s been out here.

“Hey,” he tries, crouches down in front of him. Slow and steady, he repeats inside his head. Like he’d been with Eddie in the boathouse.

He’s never seen Steve like this, but he knows that people can get stuck in places, like El in the lab and Will in The Upside Down—stuck in their head long after they’d physically left.

Dustin doesn’t know where Steve is stuck, exactly. Just knows he needs to bring him back.

He clears his throat.

Steve’s eyes land on Dustin’s face—obliquely, but it’s enough to spur Dustin on.

“Remember the last time we were here?”

A pause. There’s a flicker of Steve in the slightest of wry smiles tugging at his mouth. “Your poor cat, dude.”

His voice is brittle, like each word is an effort.

Dustin smiles back. He thinks for a moment, then mimes swinging a bat, relieved when Steve’s eyes actually follow the movement.

“You were awesome.”

And it surprises him—not the sincerity, that’s a given, but the fact that he’s not said such a thing out loud for a while. Well, he reasons, at least not to Steve himself.

Pre-Vecna Eddie would roll his eyes any time the conversation circled back round to Dustin raving about Steve—but in the RV, as Steve swung them onto the open road, Eddie had turned to Dustin with the widest of grins. He furtively nodded towards Steve in the driver’s seat, then said with a breathless laugh, “You were right, man. Incredible.”

Steve makes a small sound that’s more of a gasp than a laugh. Shakes his head. “Yeah, I’m—” He swallows. “Don’t think I’m that guy anymore.”

What do you mean? Dustin thinks. I’m looking right at him.

But he doesn’t say it.

He doesn’t say it, because now he can see why each word Steve speaks seems to come at a cost. His chest is rising and falling erratically, his breathing quick and shallow.

And he’s shaking.

His hands are clenched into fists, knuckles turning white—like he’s focused so much on trying to keep still that it’s making him tremble anyway.

Slowly, slowly, Dustin moves the tiniest bit closer. His hand barely touches Steve’s before he draws back sharply, hitting his head against the body of the car.

“Sorry,” Dustin says quietly, raising his hands just a little, hopefully just enough for him to register as not being a threat.

He remembers Eddie in the boathouse again, when he’d sank down to the floor, the fight gone clean out of him—the danger of him hurting Steve having passed, but Dustin still being afraid that Eddie would accidentally cut himself with the glass bottle, his hands were shaking so much.

“No, I’m—” Steve sighs, tips his head up with a shaky exhale. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s…” He looks at Dustin, finally meets his gaze properly. “I—I think.” Another sharp breath. “Dustin, I—I think there’s something wrong with me.”

“What? No, there’s—”

But Steve continues like he hasn’t even heard him. “No, no, there’s—like, something’s gone wrong, dude, really wrong. I-inside me. I’m fucked in the head.”

He grits his teeth.

And as Dustin scrambles for a response, Steve covers his face with his hands. His breathing shudders.

It takes a few seconds for Dustin to realise that Steve is crying—crying and trying to hide it, pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes so fiercely that it must hurt, like he can somehow will away the tears.

“Steve,” Dustin says, and for a long moment feels completely useless. He’s never seen… he doesn’t know how the hell to approach this.

He’s used to Steve’s spiky brand of kindness, used to the eye rolls, the exasperated, “Dude, how many times, not on the inside,” when Dustin wipes his feet in his car, all the while insisting that he drive Dustin home whenever it rains.

But he doesn’t know what Steve needs from him.

Then Steve’s breathing starts to hitch, more than just the uneven rhythm of sobs; his hands fall away, and Dustin catches a flare of panic in his eyes.

It’s familiar. Makes him think of Will, how his eyes go wide sometimes, how Joyce will murmur, “Breathe with me, hon, it’ll pass. You’re okay.”

This time, when Dustin reaches for Steve’s hand, he doesn’t flinch. Instead Steve clings on, almost like it’s a reflex—like he’s at the edge of a cliff, and Dustin is pulling him back.

“Just breathe with me,” Dustin says. He over-exaggerates his breathing, takes Steve’s hand and places it over his chest so it can be felt.

“C-can’t,” Steve says.

This, at least, Dustin can work with.

“Okay, I know right now it feels like you can’t, but you totally can. Come on, would I lie to you?”

Steve shakes his head, manages a faint smile even as he wheezes—and Dustin is glad to know that even through Steve’s fear, their trust in one another remains a mutually understood thing.

“Look at my track record,” Dustin adds, “I’m always right.”

Steve catches his breath enough to chuckle, just for a split second. “Smart… ass.”

Dustin tsks. “Delirious. You don’t know what you’re saying.”

But what he means is I’m gonna sit with you for as long as you need.

He doesn’t know how long it takes, realises too late that he’d forgotten to check his watch when he’d started walking. He hopes Eddie is only mildly freaking out.

Steve moves his hand away, uses it to push back his hair, sticking to his forehead from a combination of rain and sweat. But it’s only when Dustin fails to suppress an involuntary shiver that Steve startles, snaps back into action. Wipes roughly at his face, then nods to himself as if to say Enough now.

“We should go.”

And he stands with only a little jerkiness, takes barely a second to lean against the car before he’s setting off. He looks behind his shoulder expectantly, and Dustin follows.

He doesn’t know how to feel. Relieved, maybe, that Steve feels secure enough to lead the way. Concerned—because the sudden return to ‘normality’ is happening too soon; he can feel it.

As they get off the railroad tracks, begin to approach the edge of the woods, Dustin hears Eddie before he sees him—the clatter and rustle of him repeatedly dropping the flashlight, his muffled curses.

Steve doesn’t seem to notice, has drifted back into silence, blinking down at the forest floor.

Eddie comes into view, and when he sees them, he just. Stops.

“You can’t keep track of time for shit,” he tells Dustin, and his voice shakes a bit in the middle.

Steve’s head raises at that. He blinks slowly. “Eddie?”

“The one and only,” Eddie says as he steps forward, comes to a halt right in front of Steve.

And Dustin doesn’t even take a crack at how incredibly uncool that reply was, because Eddie’s eyes are flickering across Steve’s face, his clothes, like he’s putting a few more puzzle pieces together, ones that Dustin can’t see.

Eddie’s hand lightly touches Steve’s shoulder, no doubt feeling that the thin T-shirt is practically soaked through by now.

“Oh, you’re freezing,” Eddie says softly. “C’mon.”

And Eddie leads the way back to the roadside. He doesn’t touch Steve again, but his hand hovers occasionally, like he can sense that Steve might need someone to lean on.

But Steve never does.

They don’t talk, not until they reach Eddie’s van. And Steve’s car.

“The… the keys,” Steve says. It sounds flat, but only in the sense that he might not have the energy to sound panicked, even when he is.

“Right here,” Eddie says quickly. He takes them out of his jeans pocket. “Safe and sound.”

He offers them, palm open. But Steve doesn’t move. Dustin sees his jaw work a few times.

Then Steve stretches out his hand—he doesn’t take the keys, just leaves it hanging in the air. He’s shaking again.

“Eddie, I don’t think I can-” He cuts himself off, exhales. Drops his hand back down to his side. “Don’t think I can drive.”

He’s talking out the side of his mouth. It almost sounds like he’s embarrassed over Dustin potentially hearing.

Like Dustin would ever think of him differently.

Dustin kind of wants to yell at him, kind of doesn’t. Wants to hug him.

Above all, wants to make Steve understand that he doesn’t ever have to drive people around again. It doesn’t matter, none of it does, because Dustin will love him regardless.

“Okay,” Eddie says. He gestures to Steve’s car. “You trust me with—?”

“Yeah,” Steve says before Eddie has finished speaking, as if he’s answering another question.

“Okay,” Eddie repeats. “How about… you two watch over my van? And I’ll drive the car to yours.”

“How’re you gonna get back here?” Dustin asks.

Eddie shrugs. “Walk?” Then he laughs slightly. “Nah, just kidding. I’ll hitch a ride.”

“Eddie,” Steve says warningly, and honestly Dustin gets it: the town might’ve largely cooled off, sure, but that doesn’t mean most people would tolerate giving Eddie a lift anywhere.

But Eddie just tuts, ushering them over to the van and flinging the door open. Steve seems to follow on automatic pilot, heads inside and sits with his back pressed against the interior, posture like it was in the junkyard. Rigid.

Eddie watches Steve’s movements, and Dustin catches him biting his lip. But he stops as soon as Steve looks his way, gives a gentle kind of smile.

“I’ll be fine, there and back,” Eddie says. “Honestly, Harrington, haven’t you heard? I’m very charming.”

And Eddie steps away, Steve’s keys in hand—but not before giving Dustin a look that he knows means that instead of watching over the van, his instructions are to watch over Steve.

#okay this’ll most likely be 3 parts now. um i think #steve and dustin #dustin henderson fic #steddie with dustin’s pov #steve harrington #dustin henderson #eddie and dustin #eddie munson #steddie ficlet #steddie fic #steddie #steve x eddie #henderfam

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