#tw: period typical homophobia

[welcome-to-ratterrock]

If people at Locke's work found out about his orientation, how would they react? Would they keep it a secret and support him silently or would they turn him over due to the homosexuality laws? ALSO if Pads found out anyone was homophobic to Locke, would he deal with them?

That would depend entirely on the person who found out, Dear Anon. Keep reading the comic and you might find out…

As for Padraic finding out someone was homophobic to Locke, oooooh…

On one hand, serves them right. On the other hand, Padraic’s genius and creativity goes hand in hand with his wickedness. And they go to very, very dark depths indeed, especially for bigots.

[schrijverr]

I Found Myself a Cheerleader 1

Chapter 1 out of 28

Bumped to the lowest step on the social ladder after his fight with Billy, Steve gets roped in with the cheer team. What starts as a favor to help them out when one member breaks her leg in turn for protection from the brunt of the bullying, sets the universe on a different path.

He befriends Chrissy and grows as thick as thieves with her. Over the summer he adds Robin to his friends as well. Meanwhile Eddie seems to have taken an interest in the fallen king, but Steve can’t figure out quite yet why Eddie is talking with him. Flirting with him?

On AO3.

Ships: eventual steddie & buckingham

Warnings: period typical sexism, period typical homophobia, internalized homophobia, child neglect mention, bullying, f-slur

~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 1: The Deal

Steve has quit the basketball team after winter break. Before winter break he was technically still on the team, but not allowed to play due to his concussion. Now he is healed enough to get back on the court, but Billy has turned most of the team against him, which makes playing impossible. Hence the quitting.

However, now he has a slot he needs to fill if he wants to make it into college. He can’t join some braniac team, he’s barely scraping by. Going back to swimming also isn’t an option, since the swim team is practically the same as the basketball team and he doesn’t fancy drowning.

He wishes he could just continue playing basketball. That it wasn’t that bad. That he could man up and make it through. But he can’t, he really can’t. He likes his bones in one piece and the doctor said another concussion might be the end of what his brain can take.

So, he sits longingly alongside the court and watches the team train, aching to just have an activity he is good at again. To not feel like such a failure.

A loud and frustrated sigh pulls him from his thoughts and his eyes are pulled to the cheerleaders that are also practicing in the gym. The captain of the cheer team, Molly, throws up her hands and says: “It isn’t gonna work like this.”

“No need to snap,” Heather, one of the other girls, scowls. “Mary can’t help that she’s sick. She’ll be back after the weekend and then we’ll train the whole thing properly.”

“I know that,” Molly snaps. “But it’s throwing everything off and we need to get this routine straight. We can’t afford to have anyone missing.”

“We know,” Heather rolls her eyes, still posed to fight.

Molly sighs and says: “I just need this competition to go well.”

Heather softens at that and places a hand on Molly’s shoulder and smiles: “We’re gonna kill it. Don’t worry too much, Molls. Lets just run it again, okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” Molly smiles, before loudly clapping her hands and getting everyone back into position to go from the top.

Without realizing Steve has ambled closer to the cheerleaders. He startles a little at the loud clap, before watching at the routine starts up again. He has often watched the cheerleaders, they’re at the sides of big games and the team always stared together.

However, he has never really paid any attention to their training. Right now, though, he watches in awe as they toss each other in the air and keep smiling as they tumble about.

Since he is aware of it, he can clearly see where one of the girls is missing. When some of the girls are lifted some shapes are uneven and a few stay on the ground with an annoyed look. Certain formations are also incomplete. At one point one of the girls nearly falls, because someone who is supposed to be there isn’t.

The routine comes to an end and Steve can clearly see Molly, who is on the cusp of breaking down again. In Steve’s opinion it doesn’t look that difficult, well, what seems to be missing that is. It’s just holding someone up. Not like he has to do a back flip.

He hasn’t consciously realized what he’s doing until he’s tapping Molly on the shoulder. She startles and turns, before getting big eyes and smiling softly as she greets: “Hi, Steve.”

While Steve’s popularity has gone down considerably since Billy showed up, he is still well liked under the female student body. He smiles back at her and says: “Hi, Molly. Uhm- This is really stupid.” He rubs the back of his head, suddenly aware of how much he is not allowed to do what he is about to do. “I-” he lets out a breath and decides to go for it. “I heard you talking earlier, about missing someone. Can I help?”

It’s quiet and Steve immediately regrets even looking in their direction.

A boy doesn’t do cheerleading, it’s a girls sport. Barely even a sport. Just a thing they do to look pretty. He has no business being close to it beyond asking a cheerleader out. He has already plummeted vastly in popularity, the last thing he needs is gay rumors floating around. No matter how true they’d be.

He just wants to be helpful, do something he might be able to for a change. But he didn’t think it through and now he’s done something stupid. Like he always does.

Steve is about to take it back, play it off as a joke or just walk away if nothing comes to mind in the next second, when Molly lights up. “That’s perfect!” she grins. “Mary is a base position, which should be easy to teach. Thank you so much.”

Some of the other girls send him some weird looks, but after Molly’s relieved thanks, he doesn’t have the heart to turn away. So, he awkwardly shrugs: “It’s no problem, not like I have anything better to do.”

He is ignored by Molly, who turns around and addresses the others: “Go over parts you’re struggling with for a little. Lisa, Karen, Susan, come here!”

Three girls come their way as the others devolve into doing their own thing. Molly asks him: “Are you warmed up?”

Steve doesn’t think this will be that much effort, so he nods. It’s honestly his mistake, along with staying in his jeans and shirt.

He is shown the proper way to hold up a flyer. He hadn’t even realized before now that there were multiple positions in cheerleading. However, here he is. He is filling in for a base, so he’s holding Karen, the flyer, along with Lisa, the other base. Meanwhile Susan is the back spotter, she is the first to catch Karen should it go wrong. It’s important to catch the flyer properly or one can risk hurting the flyer quite badly.

Within a few minutes Steve gains so much respect for cheerleading, something he and the other guys have always put aside as some easy girly thing.

As he lifts Karen, he can feel her muscles under his hands as she has to keep everything tense as to not loose her balance on just their hands. Lisa is also a lot stronger than she looks, holding half of Karen’s weight along with Steve. He is already sweating through his polo and he definitely can’t keep smiling as he does this.

After a while he is able to get it. Molly is satisfied with his progress and deems it enough to call everyone together again. She says: “Okay, we can’t go through the routine, because Steve doesn’t know it and he isn’t going to learn this quick. So, we’re just going through the pyramids slowly, alright?”

She gets cheers back and instructs Lisa to make sure Steve knows what to do as everyone moves back to position.

Lisa is his saving grace, because Steve can’t keep up with how easily they all shift between position, creating structures out of just their bodies, before flipping down, tumbling around and doing it again.

He hadn’t realized how much mental space it takes to keep track of everyone’s position. He is very impressed with all the cheerleaders and he is genuinely having fun.

Cheerleading is a physical activity that he’s actually quite good at, throwing Karen around with ease and watching her fly. And for once he isn’t being pushed around.

A part of him knows that he shouldn’t be having fun, that he should have never even offered to do it and play it off as trying to get a date if someone asked. But it’s hard to keep the happiness away or not reply to the high five Lisa offers when they pull off a tricky stunt.

So, it’s not until the basketball team takes a break and he is spotted that the pit in his stomach, that he felt when he first offered, returns. He’s holding one of Karen’s legs when he hears Billy sneer: “Look at that, Harrington’s turned from a king into a princess.”

He can’t risk hurting Karen, so he grits his teeth as he hears the rest of his former team snicker. The stunt still needs to be completed, so Steve tries to tune them out as they bounce so Karen gets the height she needs for a flip.

Once she is safely on the ground, Steve looks at his old teammates, who have all collected to laugh at him. His cheeks burn with shame and he looks to the ground. He just wanted to help, do something nice for a change.

A hand on his arm, makes him look up. Lisa is looking at him with a kind and concerned look. She quietly says: “You don’t have to stick around. We get it. Mary will get better and we’ll pick up training Monday again.”

Steve is quite tempted to take her offer. To just run and be a coward, because a coward is better than being tossed for the tigers. Being a coward is better than being a queer.

However, before he can, Molly is speaking up. She overheard what Lisa said and doesn’t want to stop training. She needs Steve there. She crosses her arms and says: “All of you stop laughing right now, or you’re not getting a date from a cheerleader for the rest of the year. Steve was gentleman enough to offer help when we needed it. Maybe take an example.”

That shuts the boys right up. Steve knows what they talk about in the locker room, almost all the boys there want a date with a cheerleader. A bit of fun at Steve’s expense isn’t worth blowing that chance over.

Billy’s face goes through an amusing journey of emotions. In the end he scoffs and turns away with a: “Let the ballerinas do their thing.”

Molly’s face contorts in a hateful look, before she takes a deep breath and lets it go. Steve honestly admires her ability to do so.

She turns back to Steve and puts on big eyes as she clasps her hands together and says: “Please, Steve, stay for a little. We really appreciate your help. You’re such a gentleman, I mean that, you know. A knight in shining armor. Please, stay a little more, we’d all owe you.”

If he hadn’t grown up around his mother and seen how Molly plastered on the dainty, pleading eyes, he wouldn’t have realized this was a manipulation. She is playing into his masculinity and implying he could score a date if he stays.

Luckily for Molly, Steve is having too much fun to turn down a reason to continue, so he pretends to fall for it. He puts on his best smirk and replies: “I mean, how could I refuse a lady in need of help.”

She brightens up, this time the smile is genuine and Steve feels even better about his decision to fuck what anyone thinks. He has already been kicked to the bottom of the ladder. If he has to be here, he might as well do something fun.

He discovers that cheerleaders train almost more rigorously as the basketball team. He is there for another hour, running through the drills again and again. By the time they go home, he at least knows where to stand to not be in the way, though the arm movements escape him.

As he leaves, Lisa gives him a soft smile. She isn’t the loudest, but Steve quite likes her calm and steady presence. Throwing Karen around together has created a bit of a bond. So, he smiles back and says: “Bye, Lisa.”

“Bye, Steve,” she says. “Thank you for staying. Molly has been really stressed about practice lately.”

“Oh, it was nothing,” he tells her, looking around for a second, before he admits: “It was quite fun actually. You girls are crazy strong. I never realized.”

That makes Lisa let out a laugh and she grins: “We’re full of surprises,” before they truly say goodbye and go their separate ways.

Steve has been avoiding showering at school with the basketball team out to get him, so he gets into his car in sweaty clothes. Today he’s relieved his parents are never home. Explaining why he’s sweaty in his day clothes to his father would likely be the last thing he did.

Another thing he is relieved about, is that it is weekend. He hopes that it either doesn’t go the rounds that badly with no one stuck in one building and that by the time Monday rolls around the excitement will have died down.

He gets radioed by Dustin, asking him to drive him and the rest of the nerd squad to the arcade. He agrees easily, needing the distraction.

Because what Steve hadn’t counted on, is how the cheerleading would get stuck in his head. He had expected it to be a one time thing, something nice that would keep his mind of basketball for a bit, but instead he can’t help but think back on how much fun he’d had.

Cheerleaders have a very different team dynamic from basketball. There is more yelling of good jobs and needing to work together, instead of people trying to steal the spotlight and pushing each other around. It was quite nice.

Plus, it felt great to exercise again. And it felt much more like a team sport with Karen needing to trust him and Lisa to keep her upright and to count on Lisa to do her part, while Steve did his. He can’t deny that a part of him wants to do it again.

So, he drives up to Dustin’s house, then the others and listens to them gush about the campaign Will is running, making the shy boy blush. Then they move on how Max still has the high score, but she’s gonna meet them there and Dustin will observe her strategy, then beat her.

Steve doubts that, Max is a beast in the arcade. However, he lets Dustin live in his world as he watches them go nuts, lending the group quarters when they start to come up short.

He muses that these kids have a hobby they like. He used to have that, but basketball is kind of off limits right now. Even playing just for fun is ruined, since those games are mostly the basketball team or people who are friends with the basketball team. All of whom now hate Steve.

He still shoots some hoops alone in his backyard and swims laps in the pool (albeit with less ease after Barb), but he wants to do something with other people again.

Once more his mind drifts to cheerleading, but he quickly pushes that thought away. Cheerleading is for girls, he already got enough shit as is, he doesn’t need more. Besides, Mary will return and they won’t even need an extra person.

It’s not going to happen, so he should let it go and find something new.

“For the last time, zoomer isn’t a thing,” Mike complains loudly. Lucas jumps to Max’s defense at that, something that isn’t appreciated and the group devolves into squabbling over DnD categories again.

Steve wonders if he should pick up DnD. Dustin has explained it to him a few times, but it sounded hard and the thought of having to face Eddie Munson and his crew made Steve’s stomach churn.

He knows it’s his own fault that such a group will probably not welcome him with open arms, but it still isn’t a great feeling. Now that he is paying attention to others than the basketball team more, he can’t deny that the Hellfire club seems to like each other a lot more. Something that Steve will never get to experience, because he burned those bridges before they could even form.

Maybe he could join band. His parents forced him to learn piano when he was younger, though he doubts piano is part of band. Besides, he has seen the people at the band table. He likely won’t be welcome there either.

Honestly, at this point the only place he might not get shunned is the Hawkins High school newspaper, but that will be because of Nancy and Jonathan, which will only make it all the more mortifying. No thanks.

Contemplating his position, he lets out a deep sigh. Then yelps when a voice next to him suddenly asks: “Are you okay, Steve?”

He looks down to see Will looking up at him with concerned eyes. Steve forces a smile onto his face and assures the kid: “Yeah, baby Byers, I’m okay. You doing good? Need a quarter?”

“No, it’s fine,” Will tells him. “I was just asking, because you look sad. Mom told me to keep an eye on you. She wants to make sure you know you can talk to her about what all happened. You sure nothing’s bothering you?”

Will says it with the ease of a kid, who isn’t fully aware of when they are sharing too much, but the words hit Steve right in the chest.

After the Upside Down bullshit, he hasn’t been sleeping as well and there is no one really to lean on. He is distracting himself with school and driving the kids around. His parents aren’t home to notice anything, yet here Joyce is, showing more care than any adult ever has for Steve.

He has to swallow as to not break down and ruffles Will’s hair as he clears his throat. “That’s sweet, kid, but I’m good. I promise. Just thinking about school.”

At that Will nods with understanding and it hurts that this little kid knows more about what Steve is going through at his age. No one should have to struggle with kids being mean, but Will especially doesn’t deserve it with all he has been through.

To distract from the moment, he holds up a quarter and says: “Wanna bet I can beat Dustin’s Pac-Man high score?”

Will giggles: “He’ll be so mad if you do. It’s his only pride after Max took over everywhere.”

“Lets go boil his blood,” Steve tells Will, even though he isn’t even good at Pac-Man. However, it will make Will laugh and then he can make the kid try, paying for it, because he saw how Will ran out of coins a bit ago.

The weekend passes further until it is Monday and he is parking at the school. He isn’t looking forward to walking in there, not able to predict what he’ll find. He doesn’t like being unprepared in social situations.

As he walks down the hall, he gets a few weird looks, but no one says anything about it. Maybe Molly’s threat about the dates worked and no one is daring. Steve hopes so.

His luck doesn’t hold up, sadly. During first period a note is handed to him with a crude drawing of him in a cheering costume, the word princess written above it. The door to a classroom is opened for him with the comment: “Ladies first.”

Steve honestly finds it more childish and annoying than hurtful, except that it keeps hitting home what he already knew. That he wasn’t supposed to do that and there is something wrong with him, because he actually enjoyed himself, because he even thought of doing it.

Because cheerleading is for girls. It’s not for boys and the fact that Steve did it and enjoyed it means that somewhere in his brain there is something wrong with him. He already knows that there is something wrong with him, but having it spelled out for him?

It’s soul crushing.

By the time lunch period rolls around, he already knows that he doesn’t want to be in the cafeteria right now. It’s still too cold for anyone to sit outside, besides stepping out for a smoke. So, he sets up camp on a wall outside and eats his lunch. Rather cold than a target.

About halfway through lunch, he hears someone approaching. He steels himself for whatever is coming his way. He turns around, surprised to see it’s Molly and Heather, Lisa running after them as if she is trying to stop them.

She doesn’t make it in time, because Molly is already there. She is staring him down and Steve wonders what she has heard to make her look like that. Uncertain, he asks: “Can I help you with something?”

“Emma broke her leg,” Molly says in lieu of an answer.

“Okay?” Steve replies.

“We need someone to take her place in the competition two weeks from now,” Molly explains further and it starts to click what she is asking.

“No,” Steve denies immediately. He wants to say yes, he would love to do more if he were to listen to the little voice in his head, but he can’t. He has already seen what just one time helping out did to the tatters of his reputation, he can’t imagine what everyone will think or say if he took part in a competition.

Frustration creeps into Molly’s face and she protests: “But Lisa said you told her you had fun. You were good at it. Why not?”

“Molly, no.” Lisa is finally there. She looks apologetically at Steve and says: “I didn’t know she would do this when I mentioned it. I’m sorry, Steve.”

She looks genuinely distraught and Steve instantly feels bad for her. They had built up the most camaraderie together. She obviously felt the same and despite the fact that they needed someone, there was already enough solidarity between them after one practice that she would stick up for him against the cheer captain. That never happens in basketball.

“Let her try,” Heather cuts in, backing up the cheer captain. From what Steve had seen, Heather isn’t afraid to stop Molly if she thinks the other goes too far. Right now she apparently agrees with her friend, though.

Lisa sends him another apologetic look that he answers with a reassuring smile.

Molly gets the attention back on herself and says: “Look, I know why you’re saying no. Trust me, I get it. But this competition is the biggest of the season. It’s statewide and there will be college scouts there. You don’t understand, I need this competition to go well.”

She looks at him with intense eyes and Steve knows this so well. Right now she isn’t trying to manipulate him, she is talking to him as a fellow athlete, whose only chance to get into college is a sports scholarship.

And a part of Steve wants to think fuck it and say yes. He is already hanging on the bottom, might as well do whatever he wants. But he can’t be like the party, like those kids who don’t care and just have fun. He can’t be anything but a Harrington.

“It’s just two weeks,” Heather pleads. “The competition is in two weeks. We’ll train every day so you get it down, you do it once and then you can walk away. We won’t ask more than that.”

“I can’t,” Steve says, sounding apologetic. “You know, I can’t. I should have never offered to help Friday. I don’t even know why you would want to associate with me. You’d be better off trying to convince one of your own friends.”

Molly huffs: “All of our friends are already on the cheer squad.”

“And most girls aren’t able to get strong enough to do the lifts in two weeks,” Lisa adds quietly, joining her friends. She obviously also wants him to say yes, even if she feels bad for how his words were being used against him.

Heather agrees too: “And we can’t teach them how to stunt or catch either in that time. We already know you can fill in as a base. Emma is a base too.”

The more they beg, the harder it is for Steve to say no. He doesn’t want to say no, they all know it, but he has to. He will only be here for half a year more, then he’ll be off to college. He’d like to say in one piece until then and this will be counterproductive.

“Think of it as a deal,” Molly tells him.

“A deal?” he repeats.

“Yeah, the cheer squad is big,” Molly explains. “At least one of us is in all of your classes. We can offer you protection, a social barrier and you can pay us back by doing the competition.”

“I don’t need you to protect me,” Steve scoffs, though it is quite obvious to everyone in Hawkins High that Steve is a prime target without backup. Now that he stopped performing King Steve, it’s like everyone can see all that is wrong with him.

Clearly Molly thinks the same, because she raises her brow at him. She says: “I’m serious, Steve. I know it’s nonsense, but we’re the girls the guys want to get with and the other girls want to be. And cheer squad sticks together. When Tommy harassed Karen at a party, we all agreed he wouldn't get a date. And look at him. He’s with Carol now.”

Steve remembers the cheer squad turning against Tommy, neither of them had ever figured out why until now. Carol has always considered herself too cool for the cheer squad and Steve wonders if her dating Tommy is a rebellion against them.

“If you say yes, Billy won’t have another date with a cheerleader ever. You’ll sit at the cheer table surrounded by girls. If one of the basketball boys wants a date, they have to be nice to you,” Molly lays it out again. “Just think about it for a second.”

Molly is terrifying, Steve decides. If she ever decides to go into business, she’ll be unstoppable. It’s hard to find reasons to say no. He likes it and his father isn’t even home to be mad about it. His parents will be back next month, by that time everyone will have forgotten about this. They’ll never even have to know.

“Does the deal still stand after the competition?” Steve asks. He is also the son of a business man, he might not like it, but he knows the trade well.

“It sticks till the end of the year and if I make it into college and you have to repeat a year, it extends to next year too,” Molly promises. “Lisa will ensure it.”

“I don’t think that will happen,” Steve protests, but he feels quite relieved. He holds out his hand and smiles: “You got yourself a deal.”

“Yes,” she cheers, shaking his hand, before using the movement to pull him from the wall. “Come on,” she tells him. “No more moping outside. It’s way too cold.”

The four of them make their way inside. Steve is a big believer in seeing is believing, so he still braces himself when they enter the cafeteria. However, no one is willing to risk a cheerleader getting caught in the cross fire.

He gets many glares, but he has long since learned to keep his head up and ignore it as he follows the girls to their table. When he gets there, multiple faces erupt in smiles and Karen excitedly asks: “Did you agree?”

Steve is taken aback by how happy they all are with the news. All of them practically cheer when he nods and they pull him in their midst as they start explaining the competition to him. It’s overwhelming in a good way. Their excitement is infectious and it’s the best lunch period he’s had since before Halloween.

When lunch period is over, Heather hooks her arm around his and smiles: “We have History right now, right?”

“Yeah,” Steve agrees, a bit stunned how seriously she takes it without making a big deal out it. He should probably be embarrassed that he is being protected by a group of girls, but he can’t bring himself to care much when Heather rips up the note before it reaches him and he isn’t tripped up again in the hallways.

He has an escort for the entire day and after the last bell has rung, Susan walks with him to cheerleading practicing, because that is what he has agreed to.

This time, he knows better than to try and do this in his normal clothes, so he changes in a toilet stall, feeling a sense of solidarity with all the less sporty kids he’s seen doing that throughout the years.

They start with a warm up, which Steve takes very seriously after how sore he’d been all weekend, as he ignores the looks of the basketball team when they see him stretching with the cheerleaders in his gym clothes.

Those fucker probably thought he would be running far away from them and not dare to do anything they would dislike ever again. Steve feels a smug sense of defiance as he moves to touch his toes.

The others easily slide into splits and Steve honestly has no clue how they do it. Lisa makes eye contact with him from where she is relaxing in a split and quirks a brow at his confused expression, like she can’t understand what is weird about the situation.

“How do you do that?” Steve asks as an explanation. “How are your legs not killing you right now? That’s so fucking impressive.”

Understanding dawns on her face and she softly laughs: “Practice and patience. I’ve been doing cheer since middle school.”

“Wish I could do that,” Steve comments.

“Don’t let coach hear that or she’ll make it her mission to get you there and let me tell you, she is a hardass,” Lisa informs him.

Steve honestly hadn’t considered the fact that the cheer team would also have a coach and anxiety creeps up at the idea of having to face her. Before he can bolt, they’re interrupted by Ms. Miller, who teaches geography. “Everyone gather around,” she calls.

Reluctantly Steve follows after the girls, trying to stay out of sight of Ms. Miller. However, it’s for naught, because Ms. Miller asks: “Molly, have you found someone to replace Emma?”

“Yes, coach,” Molly says. “Steve is helping out.”

Ms. Miller frowns and Steve feels the heat gathering in his cheeks as everyone parts so she can see Steve. Awkwardly he smiles at her and waves. “Uhm, hi, Ms. Miller.”

“It’s coach Miller here,” she tells him. “I expect you to take this seriously. Are you able to do that, Steve?”

“Yes, coach,” the answer comes naturally.

Coach Miller smiles: “Good to hear. Do you have any clue what we’re doing?”

“Uhm, I subbed for Mary Friday, but other than that, no clue,” Steve answers honestly. “Except that it’s for a competition.”

Surprise flashes over coach Miller’s face at the confession, but it is quickly replaced by glee. She claps her hands together and blows her whistle: “Alright everyone, we’re going through the whole thing from the top. Slowly. Make sure Steve knows what’s happening next.”

Everyone immediately starts moving. For a second Steve stands there unsure of what to do, then Heather comes up to him and smiles: “You’re in my group. Come on.”

He easily follows her as she walks towards two other girls. She introduces them both. First she points to a Latina girl with a high ponytail. “This is Sofia, she’s the other base. Look to her for clues.”

Steve nods and shakes Sofia’s hand. He doesn’t have any classes with her, because he thinks she’s a junior. But he has seen her around in Nancy’s AP Honor courses when they were still dating.

“And this is Chrissy, our flyer,” Heather introduces a red hair shy looking girl.

“Hi,” she greets.

“Hello,” Steve replies with a smile he hopes is reassuring. He’s pretty sure the girl is a sophomore, who knows him only by reputation. He doesn’t want to scare her.

After the introductions, Steve is positioned into the starting position. They go through the entire routine at a snail’s pace to ensure Steve can follow along. Today they’re just focusing on being at the right place, tomorrow they’re primarily running through stunts and he’s told that the arm movements will come later.

Like Friday, Steve is having a blast. Sofia is super smart and hilarious. She makes all sorts of jokes under her breath that have all of them struggling not to crack up under the harsh gaze of coach Miller.

Chrissy is also nice and very caring and enthusiastic when she gets out of her shell a little. The only thing is how tiny she is. Steve feels like he’ll break her ankle if he holds her too tightly.

The atmosphere is also so much more fun. Coach Miller is strict much like the basketball coach is, but she still yells out encouragements too. And between the cheerleaders themselves, they’re constantly calling out: “Well done!” or “Oh my god, that was so good!”

If anyone in the basketball team were to do that, they would’ve gotten weird looks and called a fag or something. Steve doesn’t miss it, but he’s sad that all of them are told not to even encourage each other. The most they are allowed is a slap on the back. It doesn’t seem fair.

But he alone can’t change anything about that, so he finds himself in the limbo of smiling when he gets a compliment, but being too awkward to say anything himself as practice goes on.

At they end they all do their cooling down together. Molly takes a place close to Steve and grills him the entire time about how confident he is he can get it before the competition. Steve assures her that he will, though he adds that he doesn’t know if he can keep smiling. “I don’t even know how you all do that,” he tells her.

Molly laughs at that and answers: “Oh, Steve, you are such a guy, you know.”

“What?” he asks, a bit confused and unsure what could have gotten that response.

“Come back to me when you walked a day in heels,” she says instead of answering. “We’re used to smiling through the pain.”

Steve privately thinks that doesn’t sound very healthy, but he keeps his mouth shut, unsure he wants to have this discussion.

They disperse to the changing rooms. Steve contemplates going home sweaty again, but he’s in just his shorts now and it’s still way too cold outside for that. Plus, the basketball team is still going, so he hurries through his shower, hoping he’ll be done, before they get there.

However, they’re done quicker with their punishment laps than Steve expected. So, he’s in the middle of pulling his shirt on when they flood into the changing room.

For a second both Steve and the team freeze, staring at each other in some sort of stand off. Then play is pressed again and Steve is suddenly face to face with Billy, who spits: “What, hanging out with the freaks and little girls wasn’t enough for you, Harrington?”

Steve takes a deep breath, trying not to let it get to him. He replies: “I’m just helping out, Hargrove, you know, doing something nice? Ever heard of the word nice? Or did you skip that lesson in kindergarten?”

Billy bristles and steps forwards, pushing Steve back onto the bench. He gets right up into Steve’s face, who is hit in the face with the stench of teenage boy sweat. He wrinkles his nose, which is the wrong thing to do, because he is grabbed by the front of his shirt and Billy spits: “Those girls can’t help you here. I’m not done with you.”

“Well, I am done with you,” Steve answers coolly, reaching for his bag. He has tried fighting Billy before, that didn’t work out. Now he just hopes he can flee. Let him be a coward, it’s not like anyone here still respects him.

Anger flares up in Billy’s face again and he reels back, probably to hit Steve. However, he is still holding Steve’s shirt, but Steve never managed to put it on properly. So, before the hit lands, he slithers out of it and onto the floor, rolling away and snatching bag as he shoulders his way through the rest of the team, who are luckily too stunned to stop him as he breaks free.

In the hallway, he runs into Lisa, who looks at him in surprise. He looks downs, realizing he’s shirtless and gives her an awkward smile. “Uh, this is intentional?” he says.

“Harrington!” they hear Billy bellow from the changing room and Steve starts power walking away from the changing room, pulling Lisa with him and putting his sweaty shirt on again.

“Are you okay?” Lisa asks with concern.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Steve smiles at her. “Just going to change at home next time.”

“For what it’s worth, I think it really sucks that they’re treating you like that over this,” Lisa tells him genuinely.

“I get it,” Steve shrugs. “I mean, it’s not exactly conventional, you know. Everyone probably thinks it’s a little weird. Hell, I don’t even know why I offered Friday.”

“Still, you’re just doing something nice,” Lisa argues, a small frown on her forehead. She isn’t the fighting type, but she does get frustrated.

“Don’t think they care,” Steve laughs. “They already didn’t like me before this either. They just have something else to hold against me now.”

Lisa’s frown deepens, but she doesn’t say anything.

Steve honestly doesn’t feel like talking about it, so he changes the subject by asking: “You have a car, or want a ride home?”

“I mean, if you’re sure,” Lisa says.

“Of course,” Steve says. “It’s no trouble. And you can tell me more about the terms on the way. I have no clue what coach Miller is telling us 90% of the time.”

That makes Lisa laugh and they set off towards the parking lot together. Luckily, Billy doesn’t try anything with Lisa nearby. Steve tries not to question it too much. He’s tired of trying to figure out what Billy is thinking.

[classic-toxic-medicine]

He's thinking about maybe dating again, but he isn't sure. For him it's been over 10 years since his last boyfriend, the love of his life, died horribly... But he's very romantically lonely...still, the thought of finding someone made him nervous, especially with what he'd had drilled into him since he was a boy that his "preference" was immoral and disgusting.

He had no idea where to look or how to start since it had been so difficult for people like him to find others in his experience.

[sp0o0kylights]

Steve’s mother was the black sheep of her family.

Stella hated the snow, and the isolation of the small town she grew up in. Hated the bright colors, and sheer friendliness of the neighbors. How everyone was always involved in each other’s business, at all times--and how getting involved meant sharing.

Giving up your time for the greater good.

‘We’re one big family!’ Her father had told her, and hadn’t understood why she found the concept utterly revolting.

Just like she couldn’t understand why they never agreed with her ideas. Things would run so much more smoothly with more rules, better regulations. They didn’t need to rely on magic when they had spreadsheets.

Who cared if some people were upset? If some of the workers where put out of jobs, or “hurt” by her changes?

That was how evolution worked.

The strongest survived, and the business world demanded only the strongest of leaders.

She didn’t regret leaving.

Didn’t look behind her for a second, all too happy to go to college and find herself a rich man to make miserable.

Even had a child, though they were never her favorite things. Her Steven of course, would be so much different from the children she’d grown up among or the ones she helped oversee for her father's work.

He wouldn’t cry. He wouldn’t shriek or scream or make demands of busy adults. Steven would know his place, and he would stay in it until he had grown into a reasonable adult.

No unrealistic expectations, not from her son.

And absolutely, 100%, no magic.

(Unfortunately for Stella Harrington and her relationship with her son, magic does not obey the whims of one person.

Particularly not that kind of magic, one far older than Stella could comprehend.)

See: Steve knew where he came from. Would never say it of course, outright refused to put a name to it.

Knew better, even when he was young, than to speak it aloud.

Though his mother had long abandoned any powers given to her, Steve was still born with his. When lonely, he often found he could wander into a different kind of woods. 

One absolutely covered in snow.

Steve should have been cold in those woods, but he never was, not even the first time he stumbled into them at the tender age of seven.

These trees never scared him. Not like the ones in his backyard sometimes did.

The whole place felt rather welcoming in a way his own house had never been, and as Steve had stumbled along following the faint glow of lights, he found himself feeling more relaxed.

Happy.

Even at seven, Steve was smart enough to know he needed to turn back, after a while. That his mother would be furious with him if he caused her to miss the meeting she needed to go to.

That he had a responsibility to be where she put him.

He hadn’t crested the hill yet. Hadn’t quite figured out where the glow was coming from, when he realized he needed to go home--but his trip wasn’t wasted.

A baby reindeer distracted him.

It peeked around a tree, and upon seeing him, came dashing his way.

Steve should be scared, would have been scared, but something in him told him this creature was his friend. He held out his hands and greeted it as such.

He was right.

A few more little reindeer came up over the hill, running around him, and together he played what felt like a game as he walked back in the direction he thought his house lay.

Said his goodbyes when the snow started to wane and made promises to return.

Found, sadly, that he wouldn’t get another chance too for almost a full year. He was too busy, signed up for multiple sports, handed over to tutors and taught life skills by a parade of nannies, none of whom ever stayed for long.

He dreamed of the snow.

The gentle way the woods felt.

It was what made him tell the lie that let him go back.

Steve was eight by then, and smart to how his parents and nannies worked. That some of them overlapped their stays when his parents went away.

So it was easy to tell Mary that she could go.

That it was okay, really. Carla had just called, she was on her way.

Just like it was easy to tell Carla that his parents' plans had changed. Let her know she wasn’t needed after all.

What harm would it do if he was alone for a night? His father kept telling him he was a big boy. Soon he’d be on his own anyway.

The snow found him faster this time, when he went for his walk in the woods.

Delighted, Steve kept an eye out for the reindeer, fingers skittering across tree bark as he looked around, once again tracking the soft glow that came up over the hill.

It was a long walk to that light, but Steve didn’t mind.

Not until he heard the crying.

“Hello?” Steve called, voice prim and proper as always. It was a little high--Tommy teased him endlessly about it, but he had been assured it would deepen.

The crying didn’t stop, but things got quiet for a moment, in the way that happens when someone was trying hard not to be found.

(Steve knew exactly how that felt, not wanting to be found. Wanting to cry for a moment, without someone telling you to toughen up, be a man, ‘God Steven you’re too old for all this--’)

���It’s okay!” Steve rushed out, trying to locate where the muffled sounds were coming from before they ran away. “I won’t tell anyone, I promise!”

Which is right about when he almost tripped over the other kid.

He was hunched against a tree, knees drawn into his chest with brown hair hanging into his eyes. His clothes were a odd--a little like how his teacher had made Steve dress when they’d done a play about the middle ages.

“Who’re you?” The boy asked defensively, wiping his nose with his sleeve.

“I’m Steve.” He said, before kneeling down himself. “Did you get hurt?”

“No.” The boy sniffled. After a moment he added; “M’ Eddie.”

His eyes were large, and reminded Steve of a puppy he once saw. All cute and round and shiny.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you before.” The boy said and it wasn’t an accusation, but it wasn’t friendly.

“I’m not from around here.” Steve told him. “At least, I don’t think I am.”

It was kind of hard to know, given Steve wasn’t sure where here was, exactly--and absolutely knew better than to ask his parents.

“Well then you should go home.” The boy sniffled again.

Steve wasn't put off by it. Tommy had been a lot meaner than this after all, when they'd first met. 

Given their parents made them play together anyways, Steve felt he he could get this kid to like him too. 

"I'm gonna, later. I'm looking for something right now though--you wanna come?" 

Which he felt was a pretty nice offer. Might distract Eddie from whatever was bothering him.

(Steve liked distractions, when he was upset. It made it a lot easier to swallow down the bad feelings.) 

“You shouldn’t hang around me.” Eddie said suddenly. His nose was as red as his eyes, and he refused to look Steve in the eye as he hunched further into himself. “I’m bad.”

“You’re not bad.” Steve told him. 

He got a glare for it.

“How would you know?”

“I dunno.” Steve stopped, brows furrowing in thought. “I just--kinda do. I always have.”

Which was true. Steve was awfully good at identifying who was good and who was bad, from adults to his fellow classmates. It had gotten him in trouble before his mother had sat him down, and told him he just had a good business sense.

That he needed to keep to himself who was good and who was bad, especially the adults, because it wasn’t his place to say such things.

(‘But it’ll serve you well in the future.’ His mother told him, tucking an errant strand of hair back behind his ear. ‘Particularly for business deals.’)

“Well you’re wrong then, because I was born bad.” Eddie scoffed, arms crossing over his chest. “Everyone says so!”

It was dramatic as hell, and Steve couldn’t help the giggle that escaped him.

“I’m sorry!” He said immediately, when Eddie’s face flushed angrily. “I’m sorry it’s just--you look kinda silly.”

He mimed Eddie’s stance for a moment, including a dramatic little huff of breath. It unbalanced him, and Steve ended up dropping on his butt, which made him to laugh even louder.

“No one who does that can be bad.” He said finally, through the giggles. 

“That’s--stupid. You’re stupid.” Eddie said, except he was clearly trying to hide his own laugh at Steve’s antics.

“I’m not stupid--and you’re not bad. I promise.” Steve said, before reaching out a hand, one pinkie extended. “I’ll swear on it.”

“What’re you doing?” Eddie asked him, but he didn’t sound sad now. More curious. 

Curious Steve knew, was a lot better than sad. 

“You wrap your pinkie finger with mine. Then it’s a pinkie swear, which is like--unbreakable!”

That’s what Carol had told him at least, and so far it had held true. Steve figured it must work doubly so, in a place like this.

Cautiously, Eddie reached out, entwining his pinkie with Steve’s. Like any minute Steve would snatch his hand back, and tell him it was all a joke.

Instead, Steve bobbed their hands up and down once, before letting go and asking; “Do you wanna go find that light with me? I wanna see what it is.”

He pointed up the hill, toward the glow that had haunted his dreams.”

“Oh that’s boring.“ Eddie told him, but he had a grin on his face that felt infectious. “It’s just the town. I’ll show you something way better!”

“Yeah?” Steve asked, and let Eddie snatch his wrist, launching to his feet and bringing Steve with him.

In doing so his hair blew, revealing that he had pointed ears.

Steve stared at them in awe as Eddie tugged him further into the trees, until they burst into a clearing filled with gingerbread houses. They ranged from teeny tiny, to large enough that Steve and Eddie could walk in them, and it wasn’t long before the two started a game of tag, broken only by laughter. 

In retrospect, this was his downfall.

Because the little gingerbread houses were really cool, and Eddie was a lot of fun. It was easy to play with him--like the two of them had been made for each other.

Steve had never connected like this with a person before. Never had so much fun with someone before.

Not even with Tommy and Carol, his very best friends.

Eddie seemed to feel the same way, and not even an hour into meeting him, Steve knew he would remember this for the rest of his life.

Remember Eddie.

Steve ended up losing track of time. Stayed so long that his lie was discovered.

The person who came looking for him wasn’t his parents, but looked weirdly like his mom--if his mom were a boy.

He introduced himself as Steve’s Uncle Nick after he called the two boys to him, hands on his hips in a way Steve kind of wanted to mimic.

Steve knew it to be true, in the same way he knew how to find the forest, and if someone was good or bad. A feeling inside him he could tap into, warm and fuzzy in a way that, should he ever be pressed, he might admit to feeling like magic.

“Now how did you get here?” Uncle Nick asked him, like Steve's presence was a surprising little puzzle.

Knowing better than to lie, sensing that his Uncle would be able to tell if he did anyways, Steve told him the truth.

It got him exactly what he expected, which was an upset adult.

Unlike his mom or dad however, his Uncle didn’t yell at him, or grab Steve’s hand in a punishing grip. No nails dug into his skin, no harsh words were hissed. Uncle Nick simply pinched the tip of his nose, before giving a sigh that shook his massive frame.

“Your mom is going to be very upset.” He said finally.

Like Steve didn't know. 

“I just wanted to see the lights.”

“The lights--oh.” Uncle Nick glanced over his shoulder. “Could you see them from your house?”

Steve shook his head.

“No but I could feel them.”

Like a pulse in his chest. A compass, or--a guide.

“He says he can tell who's naughty or nice.” Eddie chimed in, oddly quiet for how loud he had been. “He says I’m good.”

This was said as a challenge, and Steve eyed his new friend out of the corner of his eye. He’d never dared speak to an adult like that, and was both a little in awe of Eddie doing it, and afraid for him.

Something his Uncle seemed to sense.

“Edward, go home.” He said, firm but kind.  Not like how Steve's mom was when she was mad, or his dad when he had a bad day at work.“I’ll come talk to you later. Come on Steve, let me walk you back. I best explain this in person.”

Then he took Steve’s hand in his, while Steve called out a goodbye to Eddie over his shoulder.

“You’ll come back and visit, right!?” Eddie yelled back. 

Steve shouted an affirmative, even knowing it wasn’t likely he’d be allowed.

(Wished with all his heart, that he'd be allowed.) 

“Eddie is really good, you know.” Steve said once he no longer could see his new friend, because it felt important to tell his Uncle that. Necessary, for some reason.

“I know.” Uncle Nick replied gently. “But let’s not worry about him right now, okay?”

“Okay.”

Then they were back in Steve’s woods, the ones that were sometimes unfriendly. In his backyard, and up to the door, and even from here Steve could hear his mother and father screaming at each other, in a tone that made his stomach curl.

“Come on kiddo. Time to face the music.” Uncle Nick told him, and Steve found he really didn’t want to let go of his Uncle’s hand.

He did though.

He was a big boy, and well trained. He didn’t flinch from his parents. Didn’t disobey when his mother demanded he tell her exactly how he got to the fun place, with all the snow--and listened further still when she demanded Uncle Nick take it out of him.

Take what Steve didn’t know--not until his Uncle lost the argument.

Reached into Steve’s chest and did something to him, something that killed that warm and fuzzy thing that had always lived inside Steve.

He cried harder than he ever had before that night. Cried and begged for Uncle Nick to put it back, that he was sorry and he wouldn’t ever use it again if they just let him keep it.

(He promised, he promised, he promised-!)

Sank to his knees and told his parents that it hurt.

They didn't listen, and they didn't put it back.

His father told him to get up off the floor, and then pulled him up when Steve found he couldn’t.

Hauled him to his room, even as his Uncle warned his mother that he couldn’t get rid of it. That he could only suppress it, the same way she suppressed hers, but those words didn’t really matter to Steve just then.

Not when he was hurting, and tired, and found himself wishing for his new friend.

(His mother told him he’d feel better in time.

Steve never did.)

xXx

The hole in Steve’s chest had never filled.

It kept him up at night. The yearning for something just out of reach, tormenting him with a feeling of being hollow.

He didn’t know how his mother could stand it.

Steve stopped fussing about it though--or rather, he stopped the first time his father had slapped him over his complaining.

“Enough, Steven! You’re perfectly fine. Now start acting like it, for fucks sake!” He’d roared, and shocked as he was, Steve had still done what he’d been taught to do.

Toughed it out. Sucked it up. Got over it.

Dumped his entire life into basketball and swimming and other parent-approved activities, even if he felt empty.

He was eight, then ten, then fourteen and soon Steve wasn’t healed, but he'd adjusted. 

Got aloof to the pain as his popularity skyrocketed, and his parents left him on his own while they chased the almighty dollar.

(Secretly, Steve tried to fill the void in his heart with parties and people, alcohol and even the occasional drug, though most just left him feeling worse than before.

It was perhaps how he ended up acting as he did.

Turning from the sweet boy who was always helping others, to someone who was fast with their insults. Popularity was a sharks game, and though he refused to participate in the bullying his friends enjoyed, he made sure everyone knew who the biggest fish in the pond was.

Because the hole was always there, in the back of his mind. The thing inside him that was missing, that made him crave the snow, and the lights, and the boy with pointy ears. 

He might be able to force himself to forget about all of that, if only the hole in his heart would allow him.)

xXx

Five days before his fifteenth birthday, some random guy showed up in Steve’s yard.

This wasn’t unusual--Steve invited a lot of people over.

Tommy and Carol both had a standing invitation to use his pool and Steve often used it to curry favor with the upperclassmen--but even underwater, Steve didn’t recognize the teenager leaning over to watch him swim.

Plus it was a little weird for someone to pop up on a Sunday.

Refusing to be intimidated, Steve surfaced right under the guy, head whipping up to make sure he splashed him in the face.

Laughed as the other guy sputtered.

“Can I help you man?” Steve drawled, hooking his arms on the lip of the pool.

“I’m looking for someone. Steve Harrington?” The guy told him, glaring as he wiped water off his face.

His hair just touched his shoulders, in that awkward stage of growing out that made him look like a pageboy.

Steve tucked that little observation away for later, in case he needed it.

“Congratulations, you found me.” He said, eyeing him over.

Black jeans with holes in the knees, wallet chain and a black shirt with a faded logo of some band Steve had never heard of proudly displayed. A checkered plaid shirt topped the whole outfit, with a red guitar pick dangling around his neck from a chain.

Like the guy thought he was some kind of rockstar, and not in bumfuck Indiana.

Steve raised an eyebrow.

“Though I think you’re in the wrong place. The audition for the new town jester is being held at the high school.”

He got a frown, like the guy knew he was being insulted but didn’t quite want to believe it. “I’m not here for an audition.”

“You sure? Cause you’re definitely dressed the part.”

“Okay, you are definitely not Steve.” He said, arms crossing his chest. He had a ring on each hand, catching the light as he clutched at his arms. “Steve wasn’t this much of a dick.”

Which wasn’t the first time Steve had been called out for his behavior--but it had never been by the people he was supposed to care about.

Those people, the people his parents liked?

They loved it.

“Times change.” Steve told the stranger. Kept his tone light and playful, the way that always made girls giggle at him and guy’s listen.

Well the ones he wasn’t making fun of, anyways.

“People do too.”

He rearranged himself, planting both palms flat against the concrete, bouncing once to build energy before rocketing out of the water.

Stood, and watched with interest as the new guy’s eyes raked over his naked torso, before his whole face flushed red.

How he looked away, like he suddenly couldn’t bare to look at Steve.

“You shouldn't have changed that much.” He muttered, but Steve already had his number.

"Why were you looking for me anyway?” Steve asked as he went and grabbed a towel. Wrapped it around his waist, but kept his upper body shirtless.

Idly scratched at his hip and watched as the guy acted like Steve had practically stripped naked in front of him.

Weirdly enjoyed the little spark it gave him, to watch this guy appear so affected by his bare chest.

Defensive, the stranger bit out; “We were friends. I haven’t seen him in a long time, I was just checking up on him.”

That made Steve pause.

Really look over the guy standing before him.

The fidgeting, the blushing, the way he avoided Steve’s gaze.

He opened his mouth, an odd urge to draw this out guiding him when the hole in his chest pulsed.

Like a convulsion, a miniature seizure that took Steve entirely by surprise.

It had been a long time since it had done that, long enough to throw Steve off his game.

Make him feel unsafe, unmoored.

Abandoned.

“Yeah?” He wheezed, before covering himself and the flood of wrong/want/need with a harsh cough. “Well now I know you’re definitely barking up the wrong tree. I’d never be friends with a fucking queer.”

At that, the guy’s mouth dropped open, head whipping around to stare at Steve in shock.

"Don’t deny it, I can tell. You’re practically drooling over there.” Steve smiled with all his teeth, even as he struggled to keep his breath even. “It’s disgusting.”

“You know what, fuck you. I thought you were different and you’re not.” The stranger spat, with far more venom than Steve was prepared for. “You’re the same as all the rest.”

He scoffed, before whirling on his heel, middle finger high in the air as he stormed off into the woods.

“Have fun with your sad, beige fucking life!” He yelled, voice a little choked up.

“I will!” Steve yelled back at him, oddly heated.

Rubbed his chest when he was gone, before sitting down to try and figure out what the hell just happened--and why the hell his chest hurt so much.

xXx

Steve’s life remained completely and painfully normal--until Nancy Wheeler.

Nancy and her smile, Nancy and her reminder of what it felt like to be loved. 

She didn’t fill the void inside him, but what she did came close.

Felt similar.

Steve found he’d do anything for her, looking at life once again through the lens he had back when he was seven.

It was great.

Better than great--it was the best he’d ever been.

Then Barb went missing.

Shit hit the fan so fast that in retrospect, Steve still doesn’t understand it. There was Jonathan and his camera, with the background of his missing little brother. Tommy and his insults, grabbing Steve up by the collar. Nancy being weird, Nancy ducking him to hang out with the guy who took photographs of them having sex.

Steve's brain tracks it all in little snapshots. The way he realized that maybe Nancy was right--he was way more of an asshole than he thought. How he decided to clean the theater, and then apologize to Jonathan.

(Creepy shit or not, Jonathan’s brother was gone. Steve had never had a brother, but he understood how it felt when something important was taken from you.

How it made you act after.)

There was a shift inside him. Not coming from the void, but from how Steve dealt with it.

And then there was a fucking monster coming out of the ceiling.

This is how Steve learns the magic he once had wasn’t special. That it’s not the only supernatural thing that exists in the world.

Only unlike the snow and gingerbread house and boy with pointed ears and an Uncle that looked a hell of a lot like Santa Clause, this version came with evil government laboratories, the Upside Down and his girlfriend holding a gun.

It was kind of a lot, really.

Particularly because his parents weren’t home.

(They still came home of course, but it wasn’t with the same frequency as it used to be.

The business trips went from once a month, to every other week, to long stretches of away periods. Long enough that Steve spoke to them over the phone more than he did in person, and knew more about business mergers than he ever cared too.

Also his fathers love life, courtesy of his drunk mother.)

Steve didn’t exactly handle it well.

Doesn’t think any of them handled it well, really, even if Nancy blamed him for trying to pretend he was okay. But right as their relationship blew up in Steve’s face, shit started happening again.

Flickering lights and freaky monsters. A group of kids Steve found himself in charge of, who were doing their level best to commit suicide.

(“We’re helping El and Will, idiot!” Mike Wheeler protested in the back of Billy Hargrove’s Camaro when Steve brought up that this was not what being benched meant, and Steve let him have that one given the way the world was spinning.

God that asshole hit like a train.)

Another snapshot, full of fear and fury, and things were over once again. 

Steve was telling Nancy it was okay. She could go with Jonathan, that he could tell it was what she wanted.

It hurt him to do it, but he wasn’t going to be like his own parents.

Realized with a weird amount of clarity, that he wanted to be the very opposite of his parents.

Late in the night, feeling every ache and pain in his body but knowing everyone was safe, Steve finally started the long trek home. 

He didn’t have his car (he hoped that was still at the Byers place) and he didn’t have his keys (no clue where those went but he was praying it wasn’t in the freaky tunnels) and was well into the middle of his walk when his chest started acting weird. Really weird. 

Steve ignored it.

He kept ignoring it, focused on getting back to his bed, and his bed alone.

(Maybe he had been thinking more than that. About how the last time he had truly been happy wasn’t with Nancy, but with Eddie. That he’d give anything to go play in the gingerbread houses again.

Maybe he was even thinking of how warm his Uncle had been, the way he was so gentle when he held Steve’s hand.

How he’d argued against Steve’s parents, when no one else ever did.

It was probably just the head injury.)

Unfortunately--or fortunately, depending on who you asked later--the weird feeling didn't stop.

It grew and grew, until it felt like something was breaking out of him.

Like a cough you’d long suppressed that crawled forcefully up and out of your throat, it both hurt and felt amazing, a pang echoing out through his very core--

Then suddenly there was snow on the trees and Steve was stumbling into a teenager with fluffy hair.

“Sorry.” He muttered, right before he went down on his knees.

“What the hell---” Fluffy haired guy said, spinning around and looking at Steve like he was a ghost. “Oh shit, are you okay!?”

“I’m fine.” Steve lied, even as he gave in and laid down.

Man, this snow was nice.

Comfy and soft, and cold on his face.

There was a string of curses coming from above him, and Steve made the effort to twist his head so he could watch fluffy hair kneel frantically next to him.

“ What happened!? How did you get here!?”

“S’long story man.” Steve slurred, feeling bad and looking worse. His head fucking hurt.

“Don’t suppose there’s a guy named Eddie around? He has uh,” Steve fumbled, hands trying to point to his ears. “Pointed. You know.”

He gestured to his own ear again.

(Figured he might as well ask, given all the snow.)

The Fluffy Hair pulled said hair back at that, revealing his very own pointy ear. “Dude you’re in the North Pole, all us elves have pointy ears.”

The North Pole.

The words Steve had only ever dared to think, and never said out loud.

“Cool.” He said instead, not really feeling like he was inside his own body.

“Just--stay there, okay? My name's Gareth I’m gonna go get someone.” Gareth the elf (an elf, wasn’t that a trip. Did that mean Eddie was also an elf?) said, hands hovering awkwardly in the air, before he darted off, out of Steve’s sight.

“Can you get Eddie?” The question came out in a whine, the hurt in Steve’s chest overtaken by the pain in his head.

He didn’t get an answer.

Which was okay, he thought.

He didn’t really need one.

He had the snow, and the woods that weren’t straight out of a fucking nightmare, and, he could just sleep right here…

“Steve!”

He blinked, and found he must have passed out.

“There you are. Stay with me.” A blurry face was saying. A couple more blinks brought it into focus, and Steve knew this person, even if he couldn't put a name to a face.

The hair was longer, and there were more rings on his fingers, ones Steve could both see and feel as a hand ran along the back of his head.

Worried doe eyes met Steve's own, and just through the curtain of curls, he caught the outline of a pointed ear.

“Ed--ie?” He croaked, unsure.

“Yeah Stevie, it's me. You're okay, we brought you back to my place. Gareth is getting help.”

He was trying to sound reassuring but he mostly just sounded worried.

Not that Steve cared, because he finally figured out why older Eddie was familiar.

“Oh.” He managed, the words feeling like he had to push out. “It was you. By the--pool.”

“What?”

It felt like eons ago. The weird guy, asking after him. Back when Steve had been doing anything he could to fill the void his magic had left behind, and turned into a raging shithead as a result.

“M sorry.” Steve slurred, voice cracking in its honesty. “I was--asshole. M'sorry.”

The look Eddie gave him was wild. Like he couldn’t believe Steve was here, and definitely couldn’t believe Steve was apologizing.

Which was fair. Until last year Steve wouldn’t have ever apologized, to anyone, ever. 

“Yeah you were, but we can talk about it later. Right now I just need you to stay awake.” Eddie said instead. It was gentle, a lot more gentle than Steve felt he deserved.

It made him want to explain, more than anything, what had happened.

“I was tryin to fix…the hole. Inside.” Steve needed Eddie to understand. Needed it more than breathing, just then.

“I know, big boy.” Eddie soothed, and his hands were back in Steve’s hair.

It felt nice.

“S’not an excuse, promise it's not. I was hurt--hurting, and--I was mean.” Steve continued. It was getting harder to think, the world swimming in and out of focus, but this was important.

Perhaps the most important thing he’d done in a long time, sans saving the kids from the demodogs.

“It’s okay, Stevie. I didn’t get it back then but I understand better now and…”

He might have said something more. Steve thinks he was, but then Eddie was shaking him harshly, and Steve realized he might have tried to pass back out.

“Come on Stevie, sweetheart, you can’t sleep right now. You have to stay awake for me, okay? Steve?”

Steve tried to shake his head and hissed when he found out how much that hurt. Breathed in and out through the pain, before his brain connected back to what he’d been trying to say.

“Not jus’ to you.” He panted. “Wasn’t mean just to you.”

That was important too. That Eddie knew he hadn't been targeted. That Steve was a dick to pretty much anyone he came across.

“I know. I've uh, been watching you, from here."

“Yeah?”

“We have this giant globe. Like a crystal ball, but it’s set deep into the floor so you can only really see half of it. It can also connect to snow globes, and it can let you see places. Watch people.”

Eddie’s voice was soothing, the deep timber of it echoing through Steve’s chest. Belatedly he realized his head was in Eddie’s lap.

That felt nice too.

“I was real mad at you but the Bossman--uh, your Uncle, he kinda showed me you once or twice and then I started watching you myself. Sorry I know that’s weird--”

“Least you didn’t take pictures.” Steve wheezed and then tried to grin because that was very much supposed to be a joke.

(He definitely had felt more put together when he dropped the kids off in Billy's Camaro--so what the hell was happening? Had the shock worn off? Adrenaline?

Fuck maybe he should have just driven Billy’s stupid car back to his house, instead of leaving it at Max's house.

Asshole deserved to not know where his car was anyway.)

Then suddenly there was a lot of noise and light and fuck did that all make his head hurt. Hands went all over him, people barking orders, and a girl Steve was pretty sure was his age was peering at him.

“Steve?” She asked, but it sounded distant. Echoey and unclear.

“I can’t keep him awake!”

That from Eddie, who sounded much clearer, if not utterly panicked. 

“It’s okay, I’ve got him.” The girl said, tight but professional in a way that typically belonged to someone used to medical emergencies. “You can let him go now.”

“Are you kidding me, Buckley you’re an apprentice medmage-!”

Steve frowned at that, but found something was drifting over him. A weight, like an invisible blanket pressed down gently, and he had a second to recognize that this too, was some kind of magic before sleep tried to take him.

He fought it for a moment as a thought occurred.

One last thing he needed to say.

“You’re still good. Eddie. You’ve always been--”

The magic took him away.

xXx

It smelled like cinnamon.

Cinnamon and sharp hints of peppermint, the kind that tickled at Steve’s nose as he slowly rose back into consciousness.

Steve winced as he sat up, head itching like ants were crawling all over it. Idly he tried to scratch at his forehead and found himself touching a thick bandage, at about the same time his body seemed to catch on that he was awake.

It reminded him that he had had a hell of a night in the form of an onslaught of aches and pains.

His fingers traced the edge of the bandage as he took in the cheerful red walls surrounding him. The room was the exact kind of kitschy his mom hated, little twirls of white here and there making the place look like the inside of a candy cane.

The center piece was the full size window, taller than Steve was and twice as wide. Fat, fluffy flakes of snow drifted lazily outside it, some sticking to the window panes as they floated on by.

It was a little like being knocked out and waking up in the Wonka factory, but given all the shit that he had been through the past twenty four hours, Steve didn’t mind it.

Snow was infinitely preferable to the weird ash that came out of the Upside Down.

As if sensing he was awake, the door opposite the window swung open. A tray came through, positively stacked with a stupid amount of pancakes and oozing with maple syrup, the type Steve could smell.

“I,” Eddie announced, head just visible above the good, “had a very embarrassing meltdown when they tried to take you away from me. So suck it up Harrington, because you’re stuck with me now.”

Steve stared at him, mildly concerned he was a hallucination.

“I brought you pancakes.” Eddie added, pausing as he approached the bed like he hadn’t actually thought through to this point.

“I see that.” Steve said, just to fill the sudden, awkward silence. “There’s…kinda a lot there, man.”

So much so it was threatening to escape the confines of the tray and drip down onto the carpet.

“You play sports things don’t you?” Eddie defended, making the executive decision to put the tray down on the bed. “Kinda thought you’d need like, a lot, especially if you're healing." 

Steve snorted, but didn’t bother to hide the smile that crept onto his face.

Even if it hurt.

Dragged his gaze from the pile of pancakes now laid before him, to the man fidgeting awkwardly by his bedside.

Realized belatedly, that Eddie hadn’t changed much.

Not since Steve had last seen him, though he never in his life would have thought one of Santa’s elves would wear so much black.

(Frankly Eddie looked just like every other teenage metalhead Steve had ever met, sans the pointed ears. One of which was now pierced and had little metal hoops threaded through it.)

Eddie realized Steve was looking, and bashfully twist a strand of his hair in front of his face.

It was cute.

It made him look cute.

“You might as well sit and help me with this, it’s way too much.” Steve told him.

Which was the truth--Eddie had brought him a shit load of pancakes and Steve wasn’t exactly sure he could chew all that well right now, considering his left cheek was so puffed out it felt like a chipmunks.

Didn’t want to turn down a gift though--or rather, turn down a gift from Eddie.

Who he absolutely still needed to apologize properly too.

“I guess I should start off with a thank you.” Steve began, as Eddie dropped onto the bed. “I think you might have saved my life, though I swear I wasn’t doing that bad off before I got here.”

“Robin said the shock wore off.” Eddie told him. He didn’t wait for Steve to dig in, grabbing a pancake and rolling it up like a sausage before stabbing one end in syrup. “She also said you had a hell of a concussion, two cracked ribs and a literal boatload of scratches,”

Which sounded about right, considering.

“Still though.” Steve frowned, looking at his hands. “I mostly just fought off Billy, the demodogs never got me.”

Something he was incredibly thankful for, given the sheer amount of teeth.

“I think you’re downplaying your injuries here, handsome, you gave Robin a hell of a fright. She cursed in four languages." Eddie talked fast, just like the little boy Steve remembered him as.

It made him grin. 

“Handsome, huh?” Steve teased, and regretted it the second it slipped out of his mouth.

He hadn’t meant to call attention to it. Not just yet anyway. Wanted to work his way up to his apology and then the things he had kind of realized on his walk home (and possibly before that, though he thinks he might have…repressed it.)

Given the way Eddie froze, Steve figures he’s got about two seconds to talk himself out of it, before Eddie rightfully shut him out.

“I like it. The nicknames.” He said, which is also not what he intended to come out of his mouth and God he was really blowing this, wasn’t he?

“Steve,” Eddie started, sounding a little strangled and nope, no, he was going to fix this dammit!

“I’m sorry.” He said honestly. “I know I was an ass when you came to check up on me, and I know I said some terrible things to you. I regret it. I regret it a lot, and I shouldn’t have treated you like that.”

“You weren't wrong.” Eddie cut in, twirling a ring on his finger, eyes firmly on it. “I am gay. I am flamingly gay. And I understand if after today, you don't want me here.”

Which apparently answered the question about whether or not elves gave a shit about such things.

(Or maybe they did, and it was humans who cared, and Eddie was giving him an out for it.

Steve figured he’d ask later.

After he had finished groveling.)

“I want you here.” He said, as seriously as he’d ever said anything. “I think the real question is why you would want to help me?”

It was the one thing that didn’t add up. Why Eddie had been so nice, when he’d shown up.

Sure it was one thing to be a good citizen or whatever, help out a guy who was passed out on the ground, but Eddie hadn’t just gotten help.

He’d stroked Steve’s hair. He’d kept him awake.

Hell he called Steve sweetheart.

And now he was here again, right by Steve's bedside, checking up on him.

You didn’t do that for the guy who was a downright douchebag too you, even if it had been a few years.

Eddie bit his lip, before he chanced a look back at Steve, up through his bangs. “Because you said I was good Steve. You were the first person who ever said I was good.”

Quieter he added “And because we were friends once.”

“I'd like to still be friends.”

“Even if I'm gay?”

Steve took a deep breath, and let out a truth that he’d maybe been ignoring for almost as long as he’d tried to forget about the hole in his heart.

“Cards on the table Eddie, I’m not sure I’m not gay Or whatever both is." 

He'd heard the word once from Chrissy, but hadn't cared to remember it.

(Regretted that a little bit.) 

He got a mighty frown in response.

“Don’t do that. Don’t--joke, like that.”

“It’s not a joke.” Steve said slowly, feeling the words as he spoke them. “I think this is part of the stuff I always just--ignored. Didn’t want to deal with it, because my--”

Steve couldn’t bring himself to say magic, and so, aborted the sentence entirely. “I couldn’t deal. So everything connected to this place, to the rest of my family, to you, I just pushed aside. Pretended it didn’t exist.”

Pretended that he was normal.

Just like his parents wanted.

Then he’d met Nancy.

Realized what he felt about her, he’d always felt about Eddie. That the way she looked at Jonathan wasn’t the way she looked at him--and even then, in the love he had for her, Steve hadn’t looked at her like that either.

Steve had been attracted to her for her yes--but initially, maybe, because she’d looked a little like someone else.

Admitted to himself that he the reason he could clock Eddie so fast back when he was fourteen, wasn't because he was that good at reading people, but because he recognized what it looked like to get caught checking out a guy.

“But I could never forget about you.” Steve added because well. “I’ve never been able to forget about you.”

He’d already said cards on the table, hadn’t he?

Might as well reveal his whole hand.

“You were the last thing I thought of, when I was trying to get home. I wasn’t thinking about my house, or my parents. I was thinking about you. I’ve never been able to come back here, not after Uncle Nick,” He cut himself off again, frustrated that he couldn’t just fucking it, but made himself take a breath.

Continue.

“--but I could, last night. I could get to you.”

Technically he’d gotten to Gareth, who Steve probably also owed a thank you too, but hey, beggars can’t be choosers.

Gareth had found Eddie anyway, in the end.

“I absolutely get if you want nothing to do with that, considering I think I’m just now accepting this about myself but. I wanted you to know. You’re important to me, Eddie. You always have been.”

It was weird--Steve should have felt laid bare. Vulnerable now that he’d laid out all these things he’d suppressed, that he thought taken away alongside his magic.

Instead he felt lighter than air.

Like the weight had finally been lifted and he could breathe deep once again.

For a long moment no one said anything and Steve figured this was it, he’d gone too far, when Eddie darted in, pressing a quick kiss to Steve’s cheek.

He pulled away just as fast. Wide eyes searched Steve’s face, as though expecting Steve to change his mind. 

If anything, it just solidified it.

Steve reached out slowly, gently grabbing on of Eddie’s hands. Brought it up to his mouth and kissed the back of it, while maintaining eye contact.

Enjoyed the way Eddie’s face went bright red.

“You’re important to me too.” He managed, voice awed. “You’ve always been important to me. Stevie.”

Finally feeling like he knew where he belonged, Steve grinned back. 

xXx

Bonus

“When I said let him sleep Munson, I didn’t mean with you!” Someone screeched a few hours later, jolting Steve awake.

“He was awake when I came in!” Eddie protested, shoving himself up onto his elbows when the women from yesterday--Robin, Steve thought her name was--stormed in. “We fell asleep together after Robbie, I swear!”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Hi.” Steve said with a little wave, before the two of them could screech some more. “I’m Steve.”

“I know, Dingus.” Robin told him, eyes narrowed in fury. “You’re a member of the Clause family, everyone knows who you are.”

“Oh.” Steve said, though it felt less cool and more weird that someone had finally said it out loud.

That he, Steven Harrington, had an Uncle, and that Uncle was Santa Clause.

‘Dustin is gonna freak.’

“I’m sure Mega-Idiotson here hasn’t told you, but I’m the medmage that saw you last night. Or kinda--see I’m an apprentice medmage, but my teacher was kinda out with the Boss seeing someone a town over and time was tight and we couldn’t exactly wait--”

“Breath, Buckley. In,” Eddie teased, before demonstrating a deep breath on himself, hand sweeping into his chest before he loudly exhaled. “and out.”

“Shut up, Eddie, I’m working up to something here!”

“What is it?” Steve said, feeling like if he didn’t interject Robin would take a while to get to the point.

“I might have accidentally undid whatever was on your magic?” Robin rushed out, so fast Steve nearly didn’t catch it. “Like I can tell that’s the Boss’s magic, and that he did--whatever that was, but I couldn't figure out how to heal you with it there and it was kinda already leaking out so I just--took it off?”

Steve gaped at her.

“You fixed me?” He managed after a moment, hand darting out to squeeze at one of Eddie’s.

“Um. Yes?” Robin cautioned, like she wasn’t exactly sure that’s what she did.

“Oh my god. Oh my god!” Steve laughed, then felt absolutely stupid for not checking in with himself.

Because Robin was right.

The hole was gone--and his magic was back.

How had he not noticed that his magic was back!?

“Eddie, Eddie she’s right--I have it back!”

He turned in bed, dropping Eddie’s hand so he could cup his face and kiss him instead.

“Okay, I don’t need to see this--” Robin complained, but Steve didn’t care.

Could only laugh delighted into Eddie’s mouth, before Eddie deepened the kiss.

(“Guys seriously I am still right here! Can’t you at least wait until I’m gone!?”

“No. Now get out Robin, you’re ruining my moment!”

“It’s okay, Eds. I’ll give you as many moments as you want.”

“Ew, ew, ew-!” )

This whole ass thing on A03 if you'd rather read it there!

[pyrohonk]

Steve being a supportive figure to Will is underutilized content I need more of, this post shows that when he ripped the party a new one

tw// period typical homophobia

will had come out.

the party took it badly.

but steve and robin. well. they didn't. robin held him as he cried and steve went to talk to the stupid little shits will called his friends.

"what, steve?" mike sneered as he opened the door.

"move it wheeler," he pushed past him, "lucas, dustin, max, front and center." el had stayed back with will and robin. she didnt understand why the others were so mad. two boys could love each other, surely that wasn't worse than the mindflayer. right?

the group faced steve, staring at him defiantly. "well," dusting asked expectantly. "shut it, henderson. let me speak. i don't appreciate the way you reacted to will. he has been through many MANY things and supported you through them ALL. Mike, you blew him off for El, Lucas you blew him off for Max, Dustin you blew him off for Suzie-"

"wait-"

"quiet mayfield im not done. you're not innocent in this either. you should have been there for will. especially from what you told me about billy before he died." steve snapped, maxs head dropping low. "you're right, steve. sorry."

steve scoffs. "don't say sorry to me. and the rest of you, really? this is what scares you? two boys in love? i can't believe this. i thought you were better than that. you of ALL people know what it's like to be ridiculed and cast out for who you are."

"but- what- what about AIDs?" mike spluttered. the two others nodding hesitantly in agreement.

"seriously? you have faced interdemensional terrors and you're worried about... AIDs? something that can affect ANYONE? god. dustin i thought you were smarter than to fall for that. and lucas, i just. never took you to stoop to mikes level." steve sighs and shakes his head disappointedly.

he can see the regret on their faces. "whatever, i'm leaving."

"wait, can we come?" mike shouts desperately.

steve scoffs again, harsh, "no. stay here and think about what you did. and how you hurt will because you're too stupid to think. max, let's go."

"what? why does she get to go?" dustin asks, a hand out in her direction.

"because, max was coerced, and she never said that shit you guys did. im going to talk to her too on the ride home, and then she is going to apologize to will." he said in finality.

"why do you even care about this steve?" it was lucas who spoke, and it was... sincere. steve sighed and faced him. "because it effects me too. some of the best people i know are gay. including myself. i just... i never thought YOU guys of all people would react like this." he shook his head sadly. "do your research like you like to do henderson. maybe then you'll figure out why i'm not going to talk to you anymore." and with that he left, not looking back to catch the devestated look on dustin's face.

"cmon max." he shouted over his shoulder, only waiting for her to get in the car and buckle her seat belt.

he drove away with the hope those idiots would get their heads out of their asses.

[noble-atomics-railway]

1. The New Fireman

It would be nice, for a change, to have someone experienced working on his engine with him rather than someone he had to watch like a hawk. 

He met his new fireman early one morning as he checked over his engine. A quiet “hello” dragged him from his fixation on his task. 

“Henry Stanier.” Henry held out his hand, smiling. 

“Gordon Gresley.” Gordon shook it, turning away from his engine.

Henry laughed softly. “Like my name, no relation?” Slowly, Henry's eyes roamed over the engine, taking in every detail. “It's a lovely Gresley you have, though not like one I've ever seen before.”

“He's one of a kind,” Gordon said proudly. “He's a 1920's model, sold off cheap to this railway due to being a prototype. It's the only rails he's ever known.”

Next >  

The tags on this story make it look strange, but it'll be worth it, I swear. My summery of this fic is 'imagine a BBC period drama, but it takes place on Sodor, and is overlaid with TTTE characters.

This story started out as 'if I was going to do a human AU, I'd set it on the railroad' and quickly escalated into a full blown story about blackmail and how it feels to never be accepted for what you are. Henry feels too much for a man of his era, and it's a story about how hard it is to fit in when you are, to borrow a phrase from Steam Powered Giraffe 'wired wrong'.

Of course, some of these attitudes about what it means to be a man are still ingrained in today's society, and Gordon in this story is the embodyment of them. Proud, and letting no one see him cry.

I could find very little information about how people got treated for being gay in the 1930's-1960's so I went off the attitudes of grandparents towards these demographics, and the way they speak about them. It's why it has so many period typical warnings because I didn't want to tart it up too much, as much as I have tried to keep it as PG as possible.

It's a story of tearing down walls, and accepting, and being loved. It's a story of how far people will go to protect what they love. It's a story I have enjoyed writing, and hope people will enjoy reading.

[estrellami-1]

If I Should Stay

Trigger warning: period-typical homophobia and associated slurs

Part 1 | . . . | Part 37 | Part 38 | Part 39

Allison smiles at Eddie as they listen to Steve bicker with Dustin. Eddie glances at her, sees her smiling, and looks… disgusted. “God,” he says with a sneer, “you thought we were serious? That we’re some fags? You thought you could have your picture-perfect little dream life, didn’t you?”

Allison feels fear tingle down her spine. She gets off the counter and makes her way around the island, angling it between her and Eddie, letting her get close to the sliding doors that lead to the backyard.

Just then Steve comes back in, and Allison pleads with her eyes. “Steve? Bubba?”

“Sorry, Allison,” he says, though he doesn’t sound sorry. “You thought we’d accept you being a dyke?”

He and Eddie begin to laugh, and as tears prick at her eyelids, she feels behind herself for the door, throws it open, and steps outside.

Except she’s not outside. She can feel herself calming down slightly as she recognizes the hallway: it’s the one on the way to Cassidy’s room. “Cass?” She calls timidly, wiping her eyes. “Cassie?” She opens the oh-so-familiar door and freezes in the entryway. It’s not Cassidy’s room; it’s a room she’s never seen before. It looks like a meeting room. Her father is at one end of a long table, her mother just to his right. Steve’s to his left, with Eddie to his left, and Cassidy is on her mother’s right. The rest of the table is filled with friends and acquaintances from school, all staring at her, judging her.

She takes a step back. “Daddy?” She asks, like she’s five years old again.

Richard Harrington sighs. “Honestly, Allison, I thought we raised you better than this. Your mother and I didn’t raise you to throw your life away like a prostitute.”

“Dad, I love her,” she pleads.

Cassidy scoffs. “Do you? When you forgot my birthday? When you got me earrings for our anniversary? When you keep dragging your feet about everything?”

Allison gapes. “I- I didn’t- we celebrated later,” she tries weakly. “You said you loved the earrings. And I’m- I’m not trying to drag my feet-”

“Allison,��� Cynthia Harrington says, spreading her hands. “We just want what’s best for you, darling. Come with us.”

The rest of the table starts murmuring, with us, come, come with us, and Allison’s heart kickstarts in her chest before she runs out of the room.

She ends up on a cursed-looking landscape, with dead earth and red sky, sticky vines and prehistoric-looking beasts.

She sees a clump of dead trees and sprints towards them, hiding in between them as best she can.

“Allison?” She hears, and her heart thumps in her chest, but how can she be sure?

“Alli? Baby?”

She turns around to see Cassidy trapped under a fallen tree, and she gasps. “How’d you get here?”

“Please,” Cassidy groans, tears tracing down her cheeks. “Please help me, baby, it’s on my ankle, I think it’s broken-”

“Cassie,” Alli sobs, falling to her knees next to her. “I’ve got you, okay? I’ve got you.” She does her best to lift one end of the log off of Cassidy, enough so Cassidy can wiggle out. When she’s out, Allison drops the log and wraps Cassidy in a hug. “Baby,” she whispers. “Baby, I’m so scared.”

“I know you are, sweetheart,” Cassidy says, but it’s not Cassidy, and Allison steps back and looks up with a gasp.

“W-what- who- who are you?”

His face contorts into a sickly grin. “I have many names,” he says, raising his arms as if to embrace her again. She eyes him distrustfully. “None of them will make any difference to you, though, since you’ll be dead before you can use them.”

She pivots on her heel and runs, ignores everything she can that isn’t her feet pounding on the dead earth. She suddenly hears a bit of music, which is so unlike anything she’d experienced in this place that she instinctively turns to it. It sounds almost like Steve.

“Darling, you got to let me know,” the voice sings, “should I stay or should I go? If you say that you are mine, I’ll be here till the end of time. So you got to let me know, should I stay or should I go?” Then the voice starts speaking. “C’mon, Al,” it murmurs. “You gotta fight, please. I just got you back, c’mon, I can’t lose you again. Not this soon. I won’t let him have you, Al, but you’ve gotta fight too.”

He starts the next line, and she suddenly sees something like a portal in front of her. As she gets closer, she can see herself, floating off the ground, eyes rolled back in her head. Steve’s standing on the counter, trying to reach her ear to speak. “Bubba,” she murmurs, running as fast as she can. Something tells her to look behind her, but she knows it’ll cost her speed, so she doesn’t, just runs to the portal and jumps through, back into her body.

Permanent Taglist: @justforthedead89 @ilovecupcakesandtea @madigoround @bookbinderbitch @suddenlyinlove @nburkhardt @artiststarme @paintsplatteredandimperfect @i-less-than-three-you @alyelf @quarble @messrs-weasley @littlewildflowerkitten @vankaar @starman-jpg @bornonthesavage @steddie-there @goodolefashionedloverboi @andienotannie @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @platinum-sunset @just-ladyme @steddiestains @swimmingbirdrunningrock @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @martinskis-lydias @notaqueenakhaleesi @sleepyboosstuff @bestwifehaver @m-owo-n @thatonebadideapanda @finalmoondragon @velocitytimes2 @callmeanythjing @ajeff855 @ilikeititspretty @knitsforthetrail @sillysparrow @that-one-corvid @ace-is-bored @muricel @harpymoth @weirdandabsurd42

Fic Taglist: @blondlanfear @do-you-want-something-more @str4wb3rry-guy @paperbackribs @ninjapirateunicorns @bisexualdisastersworld @hiscrimsonangel @lolawonsstuff @xo-r4e @thedragonsaunt @l0st-strawberry

[hiisheart]

┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ♥︎ . *. ⋆ HE KNEW THAT IT WAS RISKY TO DO THAT. it didn't really matter if they were in private ; he knew how people like the two of them were treated in society nowadays. they were often ridiculed , shunned , told they were going to hell , called names that didn't reflect who they really were. while mike had an inkling that will wasn't INTERESTED in girls for some time , there was still an underlying fear that had gripped his chest when he had leaned in to kiss the other. how would he react? would he be surprised? curious? even horrified?

even when the look the other portrayed wasn't of any of those emotions ( maybe minus surprise ) he still felt AN AIR OF UNEASE wash over him at the other's words. he wasn't wrong ; the two of them should definitely be careful.

especially if they became ... more than friends. decided that their lives were suited to taking that route. if mike was being honest with himself , the thought of that kind of life ... it excited him. obviously , it was far too late to deny his feelings for will. but what would happen if they had to hide forever? what would they do if they NEVER CAME AROUND to telling their families and their friends? what if after all this time , they only ended up having each other?

but he couldn't worry about that , not yet. they still had plenty of time to work things out.

❝ i know , i know ... it was a risk. but i ... i had to take it. it's who i am , and you know that. but ... if it makes you feel better ... we'll just keep it between the two of us. we won't tell a SINGLE SOUL if that's what'll make you most comfortable. and we ... we don't even have to decide what to do right now , right? i mean ... there's still so much to discuss. ❞ easy mike , you're rambling.

Will was trying to calm himself because he had just unloaded alot onto Mike, and now he needed to be there for whatever Mike was going to say next, just like Mike had been there for him.

There was also the fact that all this was out there, and moving on was something that had to happen now. Will took a deep breath, like he was gearing himself up for disappointment. He was gearing himself up to see Mike happy alongside someone who wasn't him because even now with the potential--- Will still did not feel he was good enough for Mike.

He had never expected a kiss, and despite the hesitance at first, he selfishly leaned in and selfishly enjoyed it. He still hadn't figured out what Mike was trying to imply. Will was smart, but everything Mike seemed to make him stupid. He also wasn't great at picking up cues people gave, then again sometimes he ignored them willingly. But that second one was rarer.

He had not been expecting to be kissed. That was so far from his mind that he may have acted like a bit weird in that he froze up, before he leaned into it. He wouldn't call it perfect, but he also had nothing to compare it to. It was his first kiss, and his only kiss. He wouldn't lie and say he thought he was very lucky that his first kiss was from someone he loved deeply. Will wasn't lucky often. Today he was.

He seemed to loose all ability to function because it was Mike, he felt like the air was out of his lungs in a good way. He also needed his thoughts to catch up with him because he felt like he just stood their speechless forever. It was likely just a few seconds, "Compelled?" he asked after he felt like he could think again. He nearly asked if Mike would be compelled to do it again to make sure it wasn't a fluke. But he stopped himself, instead he asked, "If you do it again, you have to be careful." He absolutely knew the risks, he could put those clues together of things that were not only said about him, but also his disappearance. He knew the risks Mike was taking not only with kissing Will, but also kissing a man, he didn't want Mike thinking he was presumptuous that Will assumed he'd be the object of his friends affections again.

[ciceroprofacto]

Well-Played Instruments

Fable, Castling, Counseling, Exercises, Moving out of Mulligans, Ring of Gyges, Built the Fire //  The Offer (next)

Whitehall Slip, October 1775

“Do you have any idea where you are?”

Hamilton’s head was a flashpan of pain. Too abruptly conscious for comfort.

It was Troup’s voice, coming from somewhere behind him like the proverbial angel on his shoulder. Though, when Alex turned his head to look at him, the daylight brought on a wave of inescapable nausea that had him flopping back over the edge of the retaining wall to vomit into the murky harbor. So, perhaps he was the devil instead.

Contact with the planks under his shredded palms and Troup’s steadying hands over tender bruises brought on the memory of Dawson’s fists. The night returned in the physical feeling- the fight, the flight, the beating on both ends.

That had been the point, he supposed.

“It’s nearly noon," Rob said. "We have drill today, and you’re a fucking mess.” He was dragging Alex up by the elbows as soon as the retching ceased. “What the hell were you thinking?”

There was no thinking beyond the fleeting anticipations of blows. Blocking a punch over his forearm, dipping beneath the next swing, side-stepping a kick- straight into the next fist. Dawson’s knuckles cracked through Alex’s cheek, rattling his teeth and sending him sprawling into the containment wall and the arms of the crowd. 

Laughing and jeering over jaunty fiddle music and the stomping of the crowd upstairs, they were raucous. Sailors, smiths, guilders, merchants, the occasional gentlemen looking only somewhat out of place. Fighting Cocks wasn’t precisely respectable, even in its front-facing cockfighting business. 

But betting on birds was far more-respectable than the show that took place below ground, so it was a general understanding between the men that came to watch the daily fights that no one should speak of this ring. Newcomers were rare which meant the audience was familiar with him, was rooting for him- at least at first.

Alex had been doing quite well in the dailies’ bracket. Now, he was paying dearly for an early slip in this match, and from the fall in the crowd’s tone, they knew it. He was losing. Half his remaining earnings off ‘The Farmer Refuted’ riding on a single pot and he couldn’t imagine anyone worse to lose to…

“I squared you from the first step you took in here,” Dawson was bobbing on his toes and disparaging while Alex regained his footing. “Snooty schoolboy blowing his allowance on the punishment he needs cause his papa doesn’t give it to’em. Don’t worry, I’ve got’chu.”

Alex raised his fists back up to his face. His vision was swimming, the crowd roiling like a sea of fabric and faces and limbs. He was getting distracted with unfocused eyes. They locked on a mop of curly blond hair- hair that was familiar, but out of place here. The figment was hunched over the fiddle as the tune he was hearing took on a complicated trill, it couldn’t be, so- Alex dismissed it as his imagination, focused on Dawson, narrowly dodged another swing, then-

“Quit dancing with me!”

He had no desire to do that. These were probably the only dancing lessons he’d ever afford. Another dodge, another miss.

“Face me like a man!”

“Then hit me like one!” The taunting was unnecessary in a fight that was practically decided, but it got the crowd riled on Alex’s behalf. There was nothing men loved more than watching brutality, particularly when it was well-earned, begged-for, something they could comfortably laugh at.

Dawson took another swing and missed again, but this time, Alex took the chance to land some taunting little slaps to the back of his neck as he twisted around his guard. “Fucking fairy!” A growl of frustration, “Fighting cocks- more like taking them,” he spat.

Alex’s step stumbled at that. It was enough for an elbow to crack into his cheek and Dawson was spinning on him while he was stunned. A fist like a brick landed against his ribs and his feet buckled. A leg swept them out from under him.

He rolled to his knees, but before he could get up, fingers were tearing his head up by the hair.

“Y’should’a gone to St. Paul’s- I hear they’ll fuck you when you lose.”

Alex didn’t know he could tackle a man to the ground without a conscious thought.

He didn’t feel himself do it.

But, he found himself there, knees digging into Dawson’s ribcage, scalp stinging from tearing his head away, throwing punch after punch, crunching the brute’s nose in, boxing his ears viciously, the temple, the eyes, striking again with knuckles that came away wet and bloody, numb to pain- inflicting as much as possible. Dawson bucked wildly and tried to elbow his thighs or roll him off. Alex’s fists squished in the eyes, cracked on temples, sliced on teeth and jagged edges of a broken nose. He was aiming to mangle and break and hurt-

Arms were grabbing him from above, tearing him away, kicking and flailing to the tune of the violin’s crescendo in third position, notes high and flying in a solo that no wharf-working fiddler would know. Just as urgent and wild as it was a distinguished display of technical prowess. Something that belonged in the gilded halls of Liberty Hall. Something Kitty or Brockholst might spend a few hours on each day with their tutors and never truly learn like this.

He should’ve been more concerned about being dragged from the tavern than about the identity of the fiddler for the night, but for a moment there, he had thought- and the song- he was sure…

Rob’s arms really were unfairly strong. Like a plank of lumber or a stone column, solid and stable as they hauled him down Broad Street. All their drills and training had only enhanced them. Given his response to their previous flirtations, Alex was pretty sure squeezing and admiring would not be well-received.

Rob was angry.

Alex could feel it, like a scab he couldn’t help but scratch. “Mulligan could’ve come got me himself if he was worried,” he said.

“You think Mulligan sent me?”

A listless shrug, “He knew about the match- makes sense he’d send someone.”

“I sent myself,” Rob hiked him higher over his arm to fix Alex’s position and earn a hiss of pain. “Nick, Sam, Henry, and I have all been out looking for you since dawn after you didn’t come home last night. Nick’s been beside himself.”

It suddenly felt terrible, leaning on Rob, so Alex put his feet under himself and picked up his weight as well as he could. Something in his hip felt wrong, maybe broken. “I was fine.”

“You were drowning in a puddle of your own vomit.”

There was nothing to say to that.

“I know you’ve been under a great deal of pressure. I know that my actions did nothing to alleviate that,” Rob said. “But, there’s no excuse for this. You want to be an officer- to assume control of men- make their orders and have their lives depend on you. You want to lead them into battle, yet right now, you’re failing to control even yourself.”

At a bar, two blocks south, Alexander nursed a glass of whiskey and pressed the most over-charged block of ice he’d ever held, wrapped up in a cloth against his cheek.

“Between us, there really are men at St. Paul’s that would fuck you.”

Hamilton knew the voice that came from his left, but he didn’t move the ice to look. He could feel eyes appraising him. Perhaps a mockery of flirtation. Perhaps not. The point was to make him question whether he was being seen too clearly. To intimidate. He hadn’t been able to look for Cleary before being dragged from the Fighting Cocks, so he hadn’t been able to confirm that it had actually been him that he’d seen during the fight- much less heard playing violin.

But, he knew this was a cat-and-mouse game they were engaged in, so the visit only mildly-surprised him. He didn’t want any surprise to show, so he waved down the barmaid for another cup of whiskey. She brought one over and glanced between the two of them. Alex paid for it and slid it to his side, still without looking. Cleary made sure to brush their fingers together as he took it.

“I knew that was you playing Vivaldi,” Alex said. "Winter, right? Little early for that."

“It's my favorite of his seasons. You showed me your passion tonight, I thought I’d show you one of mine.”

“How genteel.” There were questions that Alexander needed to ask, but he knew better than to take this friendly exchange as it was offered. Such things were never actually on offer with people like them.

“A good fight, though you had me worried in the middle.”

It was not a good fight.

A display of poor sportsmanship that left Dawson’s face swollen, black and purple, one of his eyes half-blind, Alex would be barred from the ring and remanded. Back to balancing bets at best- if he could manage to stay on at all.

But, there was a more-important issue at hand.“You’re a regular to Fighting Cocks, but the dailies are invite only,” Alex said. “Should I be flattered that you worked so hard to get in or worried that you already had a connection?”

“I think you’ll worry whether I tell you to or not,” Cleary said knowingly. “But, I hope you’ll believe it’s my intention to flatter you.”

An unsurprising answer, given the agent’s modus operandi thus far.

It was only two nights ago that Cleary had caught Alexander trailing him and Alex had given the flimsiest possible alias. It had earned a laugh and two slender fingertips dragging under his jaw to tilt his face up in a move that was both irritating and oddly-arousing- then even more irritating because of it. Cleary had smiled at him with brilliant long teeth and said, ‘good luck then, Cope,’ before disappearing.

So the game began, and Alexander was usually a contender at this game, but in this case- with this agent, he had been unable to dig up anything of use- where he was from, how he got to New York, why the Sons of Liberty still tended to trust his information when every lead he had provided ended up wasting time and resources. Weapons caches that were ruined upon capture, spoilt powder, emptied coffers, absconded traitors. Regardless of his obviously-intentional futility, every source Alexander had interviewed about Cleary were positively charmed with the boy, half of them were more than charmed- obviously itching to fuck him given the chance.

So, it was easy to see that this flirtation was not special to him, and that made it less concerning. What was concerning was his greeting. Half-drunk and sore-headed, Alex forgave himself for the slow realization: if he’d been the fiddler, there was no way Cleary could have heard what Dawson said to him in the ring.

Either he had gotten the story off someone else who had been at Fighting Cocks tonight or- “You told Dawson to say that?”

The question earned an impressed chuckle, and Alexander almost wished he hadn’t said it. Cleary’s fingers were touching the back of his hand over the cloth, gentling the ice away from his cheek. Rivulets of cool water trickled down his neck until he dabbed them away gently, trailing the ice to his exposed collar then up to the back of his flushed neck. Alexander hadn’t felt particularly underdressed for the purposes of visiting the docks. Between the dailies and the warmth inside the public houses here, there was little need for the overcoat and hat of a gentleman. But, he felt abruptly naked and intimately informal.

“I figured I’d show you what I can do with an instrument,” Cleary said loudly enough to hear over the din of the bar, but no louder. “Considering how intent you are to fashion yourself into one.”

“An instrument.”

One edge of his clever-bowed lips curled, “Violin specifically is my specialty,” he said. “Requires excellent dexterity in the fingers, don’t you agree?”

Those same fingers were massaging a bruise in Alex’s jaw. Too soon to be soothing, and instead causing a pleasant ache. Alex grabbed his wrist tightly, “We’re not talking about your violin.”

“Aren’t we?” Cleary said, leaning much closer now. “I assure you, Cope, I could play you just as well.”

“I’m not a violin.”

“No, I know. You’re a Pen. Maybe someday a Sword…”

Somehow, that was worse than if he’d called Alexander by his real name. The idea that this stranger might know so much about him. Between this and his flirtations, it was too much to take. “We were talking about Dawson- you told him to insult me in the ring- to accuse me of being a sodomite. For what- my attention? You already had it and you knew that. So, what purpose did he serve you?”

“Serve me?” Cleary’s brows were pinched in the first genuine reaction he’d worn.

Alexander quickly cataloged the expression and released his grip on his wrist.

“I’d hardly think of a person that way. Call him my instrument if you must, at least I can make music with an instrument. But, people are not tools. Unless, like you, they think it of themselves first.”

“Like me.”

“Oh, dear boy, I mean no offense by it,” Cleary dabbed the wet cloth to his temples and then brushed the loose hairs behind his ears in a motion that was far too familiar.

Alex gave in to the impulse to jerk his head away- finally.

Cleary kept his face steadily neutral. “It’s a virtue to be useful, if that’s what you choose.”

It was. Years ago- perhaps decades. Alexander had decided on this path for himself, to give himself over to his causes and make himself useful to the people of his country. He had to believe that he had chosen this because the alternative was intolerable. “So, showing me what you can do with a violin was meant to do what?”

“Demonstrate my fingering mostly.” Cleary grinned and let his eyes trail down Alexander’s exposed collar like a lascivious touch. “Show my appreciation for a beautiful instrument...make it sing for you.”

Alex knew that acknowledging this tactic was exactly what Cleary wanted, but he couldn’t just take this quietly. “You think you can seduce me into being useful to you?”

“No, you’re quite spoken for, I suppose.” The agent rose from his seat and set the ice cloth on the bar top in front of him. He picked up his glass, poured the remainder of the whiskey in Alex’s cup, patted him between the shoulders and said, “A shame though. Good night, Cope.”

Alex didn’t know when he’d stopped drinking, but he doubted that he had. He didn’t know when or how he’d made his way to the waterfront to pass out in the street, but it was a miracle he hadn’t fallen into the harbor or been carried onto a ship and taken out to sea for his labor.

His pockets were empty and he was definitely still drunk. It was the only thing that kept him from arguing against Troup’s earnest assessment.

“I can’t take you to drill like this.”

If Alex tried to respond, he’d probably vomit again, so he leaned his forehead against the side of Troup’s head gratefully and let his most loyal friend carry him home.

[welcome-to-ratterrock]

We've gotten some info on Pad's relationship with his sexuality, how does Sage feel about his orientation?

First and foremost, given the fact that the government he works with has decreed laws against homosexuality…Locke has a very good reason for not being as open as Regal is with his interests. And even if that wasn’t the case…

Locke tries not to feel much in general. It’s one of the reasons he’s in his line of work, the nature of it demands facts. Facts are comforting, solid and stable.

Feelings…they muddy things, hide the facts that he needs for his work.

Feelings lead to wants. And Locke has experienced just how dangerous and destructive the consequences pursuing his wants are.

[schrijverr]

I Found Myself a Cheerleader 7

Chapter 7 out of 28

Bumped to the lowest step on the social ladder after his fight with Billy, Steve gets roped in with the cheer team. What starts as a favor to help them out when one member breaks her leg in turn for protection from the brunt of the bullying, sets the universe on a different path.

In this chapter, Steve gets a job at the mall, while he attempts to get his life back under control. There he meets his new coworker, Robin, who seems to have an issue with him for no reason. Tentatively and rockily, they try to become cordial with each other, maybe even friends. However, trying to front a sense of normality isn’t easy and can hurt those around you.

On AO3.

Ships: eventual steddie & buckingham

Warnings: internalized homophobia, f-slur, period typical homophobia, child abuse mention

~~~~~~~~

Chapter 7: The Summer Job

Finding a job proves to be easier than Steve had expected. The mall has opened and is desperate for workers who’ll accept shit wages for the amount of work they have to do. Steve fits right in with the rest.

He’s hired the day after graduation when he is given a uniform and told to show up the next day. All his stuff is still in his car and Steve contemplates not going back to the Byers house, but it feels wrong to leave without a word after all the kindness Joyce showed him. And he’s sure that he can’t hide in a town as small as Hawkins.

Still, he doesn’t want to face any of the party right now. So, he drives out the quarry again. A part of him hopes Eddie will be there like he was yesterday, an angel in the midst of turmoil, but the hours he is there are spend alone.

When it gets late, he knows he has to get back. He can’t keep ignoring the world forever, so he’s going to have to face Jonathan and Will at some point. Plus, if he’s going to act like everything is fine, he should just do that, not hide away.

Steve can recognize that a part of him knows he is reluctant to go back, because he knows he’ll have to break Will’s heart. But he can’t be there for him right now. He can’t pretend like he’s okay with being gay, can’t pretend he’s fine after getting kicked out.

He just hopes the kid can forgive him.

With great reluctance he climbs back into the car and drives the same route to the Byers that he drove last night. He ignores how Joyce seems to be waiting by the kitchen window when he gets there. Tries not to think of how he nearly stayed away.

He walks up to the door and is let in by Will, who has clearly also been waiting for Steve. He tries not to think about that too much either, nor about the bruise on his face. It’s not the worst one he could have gotten, but it is one he had to explain in his interview earlier. He told the man hiring him it’s a basketball injury. One hit him in the face.

It’s obvious that Will is dying to ask something about it, however instructions from his mom and general politeness are stopping him. Steve decides he isn’t going to put him out of his misery and just says: “Hey, Will, good day?”

Will shrugs, looking a bit sad, though Steve doesn’t know why, and answers: “It was okay. Dustin is leaving for camp soon. He’s sad he didn’t catch you at home today.”

A stab of guilt goes through Steve. He’s been so wrapped up in his own bullshit that he forgot his favorite little guy. He loves all the kids of course, but Dustin is the one that keeps coming back, keeps smiling, keeps being happy to see him. He even convinced Steve to watch those nerd movies with him once and make a silly handshake that Steve loves more than he is willing to admit.

“I’ll radio him to say goodbye,” he tells Will with a smile.

“Alright,” Will shrugs again. Steve wants to ask what’s bothering him, but he doesn’t want to start a conversation he isn’t willing to have. So they stand at the door awkwardly until Joyce calls them for dinner.

Dinner is also quite awkward. Jonathan is there for once, he doesn’t say much, but eyes Steve with those knowing gray eyes. Even without the camera, he can make Steve feel watched.

Joyce meanwhile is trying to ignore the elephant in the room as she puts food on everyone’s plate and asks after Jonathan’s first day. Jonathan isn’t the most talkative, so that conversation dies out quite fast. She asks Will, who also isn’t in a mood to talk.

Now Joyce finds herself in the position where not asking Steve would be weird, even though she is trying not to ask and give him space. So, she gives a tight lipped smile and asks: “And you, Steve? Have a good day?”

“Got a job at the mall,” Steve answers to help her out. “Ice cream parlor. I start tomorrow, so I’ll be out of your hair for most of the day.”

“That’s nice,” Joyce says, relieved that he had an answer that wouldn't make it awkward.

“How was your day, mom?” Jonathan asks, when a silence falls again afterwards.

Joyce fills the rest of dinner with useless chatter about customers, while the rest of them eat in silence.

Steve feels bad about taking advantage of their hospitality. Upon reflection, it’s clear that Joyce feels like she owes him something for what he did. This is her trying to pay that back, but that isn’t necessary.

So, once dinner is done, he insists on doing the dishes, already trying to figure out how he can convince Joyce to take some of his paycheck.

He still needs the money if he ever wants to get his own place, but he can miss some of it to help the people who let him stay in their house while he gets back on his feet. Besides, if it all goes to plan, he can go back to his old house at some point and he won’t even need the money.

That evening Steve ensures them that he’s fine taking the couch. Joyce protests: “You can’t keep sleeping on the couch forever.”

“It won’t be forever,” Steve promises, hoping that he is right. “It’ll blow over. I’ll probably be out of here in a little bit.”

Joyce doesn’t look like she believes him, something he tries not to take to heart, since she relents and lets him sleep on the couch.

The next morning, Steve gets up early and makes breakfast, leaving it as he drives to work, so he can change at the mall, not yet wanting to face the Byers in the stupid work uniform. He picks up some foundation and applies it in the bathroom. His face looks practically acceptable now. Barely noticeable.

If he could tell himself at the start of junior year what his post-senior summer break looked like, he’s sure he would have fainted.

He feels like a fucking idiot as he makes his way to the ice cream parlor, but he also doesn’t care anymore. He’s been humiliated so much, that this barely matters anymore.

Still, he notices how he shrinks under the curious gaze of the girl behind the counter in the same uniform as him. Her eyebrows scrunch up and incredulously she exclaims: “You’re the new hire?” in a tone that gives away that she knows exactly who he is.

“Yeah,” he replies, deciding to be a bit cautious, since has no clue who she is.

“But you’re, like, loaded,” she says.

Oh- Oh, she doesn’t know he got kicked out. No one really does. This is his moment to start a new narrative. “I couldn’t get into college, my douchebag dad is making me work to teach me a lesson about hard work,” he shrugs.

“That sounds stupid,” the girl says.

“It is,” Steve agrees, because if that was the truth, he would feel like it was stupid. He walks up to the counter, glad the girl, Robin, is wearing a name tag so he can ask: “So, Robin, show me the ropes?”

Robin laughs: “Nothing difficult about slinging ice cream, Harrington. But I’ll show you how the work the till real quick.”

She goes to show him how it works, but it is not quick, nor easy. Steve doesn’t know whether he is dumb for not following her or if Robin is terrible at explaining. She continuously gets sidetracked and there is no clear order to what she says. However, as her hands fly over the machine it does exactly what she said it would.

In the end Steve tells her he’ll just scoop and she can man the till, until he figures it out. She sends him a look that tells him she thinks he’s a bit thick for not getting it, but she easily lets him take over the scooping.

The first day of working together is awful and awkward. Neither of them know what to say to each other and Steve can sense that Robin doesn’t like him much. He can’t blame her for that part, but he also doesn’t know what to do about it. She is either homophobic and thinks he’s a filthy fag or she’s a nerd, who thinks he’s asshole King Steve. Until he figures out which one, it’s not like he can say something. But he’ll have to grit his teeth, because they’re always assigned together.

However, the work itself isn’t so bad. It’s a bit of a strain on the arms, but after months of lifting girls up into the air, he is more than fine.

He also finds that his job is the perfect place to get the new Steve into the world. He’s never going back to his asshole ways, but if he can just get his reputation as womanizer back, then that will save him a bunch of trouble. And at work there are enough girls that come by.

With Robin behind the till, he has a harder time starting a conversation, but he tries as much as he can when they give him the flavor he wants.

His efforts mostly earn him confused looks by those who have heard the rumors, but he doesn’t pay them any mind. He is going to carry on and erase them. Some girls even giggle at his efforts, which feels like a massive win after the terrible week he’s had.

The next day passes much the same. Robin keeps sending him glances every time he flirts with a girl and radiates with a confused energy that has Steve on edge and not very keen to interact with her beyond what’s necessary.

On the third day, Robin breaks. She has her break, but instead of spending it in the break room, she is sitting on the little bar where the dividing window also is. She’s kicking her feet and commenting on Steve’s tilling skills. It’s a calmer moment and no one is demanding their services.

“So, why did you do cheerleading?” she asks.

Steve tenses up at the question, unsure of why she wants to know. She doesn’t sound judgmental, more curious and confused, but Steve just can’t be sure. He reminds himself of the story he’s here to tell and turns around with a shrug. “I wanted to get into their pants.”

If he wants to fool himself, he could think that Robin’s face falls a bit at his answer. But he can’t think of why that would be, so he disregards it.

“Did it work?” she asks, after a beat that lasts a second too long.

“Not really,” Steve tells her honestly, not wanting to spread any rumors about his friends. The question, however, reminds him that he still has to call Chrissy. He keeps forgetting, because he doesn’t want to rack up the Byers’ phone bill.

“Oh,” Robin says, nodding, another awkward silence filling the air.

It is broken by Erica Sinclair and her posse coming in. At this point Steve sees it as a welcome distraction, instead of watching her arrival with horror. Robin, who has been working there longer, knows to take her break to the fullest and hides when they get there, leaving Steve to fend for himself.

Still, it seems that with the question she’s been burning to ask answered, some of the tension hanging in the air dissipated. Steve doesn’t know how to describe it. It feels like Robin has stopped expecting something from him and just turned up the snark towards him. Steve can’t phantom what she might want from him, but he can appreciate her cutting words in some weird way.

When her words are directed at him, it’s more at the old idea of him, who Steve also doesn’t care for much. So, he can ignore that. Besides, her comments are funny. Her words aren’t always directed at him either.

“God, who does that,” she breathes when a customer walks away with a horrid combination of flavors on his cone.

“I know, it’s a crime, like those socks in his sandals,” Steve adds, looking over the counter with some judgment as the man leaves the store.

Robin sends him a look that is part delight, part surprise. It morphs into a grin and she says: “I should have known you had it in you.”

Steve doesn’t really know what she means by that, but smiles anyway. It feels a bit like acceptance and that is all he has been yearning for.

The interaction is basically an invitation to comment on all customers, who they don’t agree with on some level. If Steve is honest, it is most of their customers. Especially the ones that complain about everything or are just rude straight to their faces. Even doing this only three days has Steve hardened to the way people treat him and Robin.

By the end of the day, there is a tentative solidarity and working rhythm between them. Finally something positive in Steve’s life.

As they close up, they pass a pay phone and Steve stops. Robin also stops, raising a confused brow at him. He asks: “Can I ask you a favor?”

Her eyes narrow suspiciously and Steve fears he just undid the day of progress between them. “That depends. What do you want?”

“Can you call Chrissy’s house and get her mom to hand Chrissy the phone so I can talk to her?” Steve asks.

“You want me to call your girlfriend?” Robin asks, affronted. “I’m not getting involved in your nonsense, Harrington.”

“No, no, it’s not that,” Steve immediately says, a bit frantic. “She’s a sophomore, are you for real? I am not that gross, Robin.” He wishes he knew her last name, so he could do that back. “She’s my friend. And her mom is really strict. She doesn’t even know we’re friends. I promised to tell her when I got a job. I had a fight with my father, she knew about it. I just want to make her not worry.”

Robin still doesn’t look convinced, but she at least looks like she is considering it. Steve holds his breath and gives her space.

“Okay,” Robin agrees. “But I am a nervous rambler, so you have to be right there to tell me what to say and you can’t get mad at me when it blows up in our faces.”

“Thank you,” Steve smiles, glad that she at least doesn’t hate him too much to deny him this. “Just tell her that you’re Stevie and you want to speak to Chrissy, because you are planning to hang out soon.”

“Stevie?” Robin repeats with a laugh.

Steve blushes and looks away. “Yeah. It’s the only way we could even hang out together. I know her from cheer squad.”

“Sure, I’ve always wanted to be a spy,” Robin grins and goes to pick up the phone. “You pay,” she demands.

The phone rings and Steve stands next to her anxiously to listen in. After a few rings, Mrs. Cunningham picks up: “This is the Cunningham household, to whom am I speaking?”

Robin is quiet and Steve prods her, which sends her into motion. “Hi,” she squeaks. “I’m Stevie, Chrissy’s friend from cheer squad?”

“Oh, Stevie,” Mrs. Cunningham says, sounding more positive than Steve has ever heard her. “My Chrissy has told me so much about you.”

“Only good things I hope,” Robin replies. “Wouldn't want her to lie about me, because there are only good things to be heard about me. Not that Chrissy would ever lie, of course-” Again Steve prods her and Robin shuts up.

“Sorry,” she says sheepishly and Steve isn’t sure, who she’s talking to. “I was calling to speak to Chrissy. We were planning to hang out.”

“Of course, I’ll get her,” Mrs. Cunningham tells her, sounding less enthusiastic than when Robin first introduced herself as Stevie.

As Mrs. Cunningham leaves, Steve takes the phone. While he does, he hisses: “What the hell, that was terrible.”

“I already told you,” Robin exclaims. “I don’t do well under social pressure. You promised not to be mad.”

Steve isn’t sure if he is mad, it was good enough for Mrs. Cunningham to let him speak to Chrissy and that’s all he cares about. He’s just a bit surprised at the word vomit that just happened. “It’s okay,” he says.

Robin smiles at that, then leans in, wanting to listen in. Part of Steve wants to push her away, another part guesses he owes her that much.

“Stevie?” Chrissy greets.

“Hey, Chris,” Steve smiles.

“Hi,” Chrissy says, sounding brighter. “How did you get my mom to patch you through?”

“I had Robin call for me,” Steve explains.

“Robin?” Chrissy asks

“My coworker,” Steve says.

“Hi, Chrissy,” Robin yells a bit too loudly into the speaker, making Steve wince.

“Uhm, hi,” Chrissy replies.

“We work at Scoops Ahoy together,” Steve cuts in before it can get weird. “It’s the ice cream parlor at Starcourt. I work full time right now, so you can come by whenever. I’ll hook you up with free ice cream.”

“Oehh, I’m not saying no to that,” Chrissy says. “I’ll be by tomorrow, that okay? I missed your face.”

“Sounds great, me too,” Steve tells her, feeling freer than he has in a few days.

It’s quiet for a beat, then Chrissy asks: “You still staying with that friend?”

Next to him Robin makes a curious noise as he just tries not to physically recoil. He probably can’t keep up the lie for the rest of the summer, but he doesn’t want to admit it with Robin listening in and the fight at graduation fresh in Chrissy’s mind.

So, he plasters on a grin and shakes his head. “Nah, they left town on business, so I’m back home again. Don’t worry about me, Chris.”

Chrissy sighs. “I don’t think I can, Stevie. It was really scary.”

“Not that scary, promise,” Steve tries to distract as he lies. “And I was in the thick of it. It looked worse than it was.”

“You can always come here if it’s bad again,” Chrissy says.

“We both know your mom would kill me,” Steve jokes and Chrissy laughs: “Yeah.”

“I’m fine, no need for that,” Steve assures her. “Goodnight, Chris. I’ll see you tomorrow again. You can see for yourself that I’m okay.”

“Okay, yeah, ‘till tomorrow, Stevie,” Chrissy says. “Goodnight.”

They hang up and Steve faces Robin again, who is staring at him with thoughtful eyes that make Steve’s hair stand on edge. A bit harshly he asks: “What?”

Robin blinks slowly, then softly says: “That sounded serious.”

“And it’s none of your business,” Steve grouches and starts to walk away.

“I kind of feel like you made it my business, Stevie,” Robin calls after him.

He turns around and snaps: “Don’t call me that.”

Robin runs a bit to catch up and says: “Alright, alright, touchy. Just curious what happened that got her like that.”

“Got into a fight with my father,” Steve shrugs, not facing her. “It happened at graduation. She saw it. It looked more dramatic than it was, okay. That’s all.”

“…Okay,” Robin says after a silence. She doesn’t really sound like she believes him, but Steve doesn’t care if she believes him or not, he just wants her to shut up about it.

They don’t say goodbye that day and Steve goes home in a bad mood. The mood isn’t helped by Will, who has been trying to talk to him for the past three days. Steve has been managing to distract, but that is bound to run out at some point.

Will is waiting on the couch – Steve’s space in the Byers house – when he gets back. Steve isn’t in the mood, so he goes to the bathroom and takes a shower, changing into day clothes, before going into the kitchen, skipping the couch.

He’s the first one back, so he starts up dinner. It’s his way to pay back Joyce and her kindness for taking him in.

The action isn’t deterring Will, who comes and sit with him in the kitchen, watching as he cooks dinner. Those wide eyes following his every action. It’s clear there is something on his mind, but Steve isn’t in the mood to ask. Far from it, in fact. So, he says nothing.

After a few minutes, however, Will breaks the silence. In that timid, sweet voice of him, he asks: “Is it the reason your dad threw you out?”

Steve halts – it is only for a second then he goes on, but he knows Will noticed it – and grits his teeth. He wants to snap, take out his emotions on Will, be mad at him like he wanted to rage at Robin and her curiosity, or at Chrissy for being worried, both of them reminding him of what he is trying to ignore. But he know he can’t. Will doesn’t deserve that.

Will can’t help that Steve hates himself, hates his father, yet also wants his approval, how he hates that he can’t be normal. And Will definitely doesn’t deserve that self hatred when that is also hatred against him.

But Steve also can’t confirm it. He can’t bring himself to make it real, to speak it into the world like he had with Eddie. Eddie, who made it easy to admit, to feel it, to talk about it. He misses how he feels with Eddie around. Because right now, he doesn’t feel like that. Right now he feels cornered and afraid.

“I don’t know what you mean,” is what he settles on. It’s not a denial, not the hurtful truth, but a dismissal.

They’ve never confirmed and always talked indirectly, both of them understanding what they’re talking about. Today, however, Steve is playing dumb. He is good at playing dumb. And right now, he hopes that Will is as conflicted as he is, too conflicted to actually say it. To ask it again this time with explicit words.

It’s the coward’s way out and Steve knows it. He can’t bring himself to look Will in the eye.

“Oh, okay. Nevermind,” Will says and Steve can hear the hurt that hides under the surface, as well as the confusion, but, most importantly, the defeat. Like he believes Steve truly doesn’t know what he means and he’s all alone again, but he knows he shouldn’t have expected anything else.

That tone breaks Steve’s heart and he wants to reach out. Wants to spin some tale about how it will all work out and he just got to hold on and it will all get better.

But Steve can’t.

He wants to, truly he does. But he can’t lie to Will, because Steve doesn’t like himself, he doesn’t like that he can’t bring himself to change. And he doesn’t believe that it will get better. He might have two weeks ago, but not now.

So, he keeps cooking and doesn’t look as he hears Will walk off, before a chair scrapes at the kitchen table and he sounds of crayons starts up.

They do their own thing like that until Joyce comes home. She asks Will about his day and gets him to talk about how Lucas and Max broke up again and how Mike couldn't come, because he was off with El, as Joyce tries to bud in with dinner, but Steve doesn’t let her. He’s content to stay in the background as Joyce fusses over Will, he’s sure the kid can use it after their conversation.

Dinner is as stilted as always. Steve can’t bring himself to lean into the care Joyce is offering him out of guilt or sense of owing, but Joyce keeps trying. This night Jonathan is off to eat at Nancy’s house and Will is quieter than normal.

Steve gladly turns in early, pretending to sleep for a long time in the hope he’ll be left alone by the two Byers in the house. At this point it’s a miracle he hasn’t woken up screaming yet. Though the Byers would at least know why and likely leave him be if he asked. He has graciously ignored Will and Joyce drinking hot chocolate in the middle of the night by pretending to sleep.

The next day, he takes care in covering the bruise. It is already starting to turn yellow, which helps in hiding it. He isn’t looking forwards to seeing Robin again, but he’s excited about Chrissy coming by, even if he’s wearing the stupid uniform.

When he gets there Robin isn’t there yet and he sets up in peace. A peace that is interrupted about five minutes in when it is broken by the arrival of Robin. She greets him like nothing happened yesterday and maybe in her mind it didn’t.

“Hi,” Steve decides to greet back. It’s civil enough and if he gives himself a second, he’s sure he can pretend as well. It wasn’t that bad anyway, Robin doesn’t know why he’s on edge about being questioned like that.

They settle back into their work rhythm and when Robin doesn’t bring it up again, he manages to relax and bitch with her again.

Around noon is when Chrissy walks into the parlor. She’s in a light green summer dress and looks absolutely stunning. It’s Robin, who spots her first. She trips over air and loudly bangs into the counter, causing Steve to look around. He light up and calls out: “Chris!”

“Stevie,” Chrissy grins, skipping up to the counter. Robin is there, staring at her as Steve hustles her to the side, frowning at her a little.

“Ahoy,” he says, dorkily tipping his stupid hat.

As expected it makes her giggle and she exclaims: “I can’t believe that’s the uniform. Sorry, but you look ridiculous.”

“I know,” Steve rolls his eyes fondly. “How are you doing, Chris? What flavor can I get you? On me, promise.”

“Again, not saying not to that,” Chrissy smiles, reading the signs, before picking strawberry. “Is your job fun?” she asks as Steve scoops. The question feels a bit like one you’d ask an acquaintance, the past few days hanging like an invisible barrier between them.

“Could be worse,” Steve shrugs, handing her the cone. “Some people are shit.”

“Tell me about it,” Chrissy says. “My mom can get so mad. It’s embarrassing to be seen with her when she does that.”

Steve barks out a laugh, the tension seeping away from them. He leans over the counter and says: “I somehow can imagine that very well. No offense to your mom.”

“Oh, full offense to her,” Chrissy laughs as well.

It isn’t busy and Steve clings to that calm as he takes as much time as he can get away with just chatting with Chrissy. Talking with her makes him feel normal again. They discuss what the cheer squad will look like next year, how Chrissy will have to get used to two bases again, and the rumor that coach Miller has a boyfriend now.

Steve notices Robin hovering in the background. She is oddly quiet, letting Chrissy and Steve catch up without blabbering on. Steve is grateful to her for that.

However, the calm doesn’t last forever and when more people come in than Robin can handle alone he gives her an apologetic smile. “You’re more than welcome to hang around, but I get off late, so it’s not really worth it.”

“I’ll go look around the mall,” Chrissy says brightly. “I probably won’t stay until the end of your shift, but I’ll come by before I leave.”

“Have fun,” Steve calls after her as they wave each other goodbye.

After she has left, they’re up to their neck in people wanting ice cream to flee from the growing early June heat. However, once the hustle has died down again, Robin turns to Steve and asks: “That’s Chrissy?”

“Yeah, who did you think Chrissy was?” Steve replies, a bit confused. He doesn’t think Chrissy looks that intimidating or weird, she looks like every girl out there. Is there something he’s missing that Robin sees? Is it a girl thing?

“Well, I mean- I guess- I don’t know,” Robin splutters. “I’m not involved with the cheer team. I do band. Guess, my image of cheerleaders is different than Chrissy.”

“No need to be so defensive,” Steve frowns. “She’s nice.”

“I believe you,” Robin squeaks.

Steve studies her closely, looking more confused. He doesn’t know what is up with her and why she’s weird about Chrissy. He already noticed she was a little bit quieter today and she seemed surprised by Chrissy. Maybe it’s because she does band and has a weird idea about more popular kids? Yeah, that must be it.

“Just because she’s a cheerleader, doesn’t mean she’s a bitch,” he tells her. “I’ll introduce you when she comes by again. You’ll see.”

At that Robin makes a weird noise, but nods, which is enough for Steve. He doesn’t care that much about Robin’s opinion of most popular kids, but he does care about Chrissy and he wants her to be liked.

It’s soon after that Chrissy come by again. She’s smiling brightly and holding a few bags. She sheepishly says: “I might have explored the mall too thoroughly.”

“Did you at least buy stuff you actually want?” Steve laughs at her.

“Yeah,” she lights up and shows him a few skirts and shirts that she bought as well as a new outfit for cheer practice. “I know it’s not going to be the same without you there, so this is to cheer me up,” she informs him. “And I can wear it if we practice together. If- if you still want to do that, of course.”

Steve wants to shut that down. He is building a new image here and cheerleading isn’t part of that, however he isn’t ready to let go of that. Cheerleading has been his happy place throughout some of the worst months of his life and he doesn’t want to give that up. Doesn’t want to let go of this friendship he has with Chrissy. So, he smiles: “Of course I want to, Chris. Don’t be stupid.”

“Yay,” she says with a bit smile. Actually saying the word yay out loud.

Behind Steve Robin makes a noise that might be laughter or her choking to death. Steve isn’t sure and turns around to see her looking a bit red. Probably choking, he guesses. But it also reminds him of going to introduce Robin.

“Oh, Chris, this is Robin, the one that called your mom for me,” he says, pointing at Robin, who gives Chrissy to most awkward smile and wave combo Steve has ever seen in his life. He has already noticed how clumsy she is, but she truly elevates it to a new level.

“Hi, nice to meet you,” Chrissy greets, turning her smile onto Robin, who just nods again.

Steve frowns at her, then says to Chrissy: “She’s usually harder to shut up, but I think her lunch fell funny.”

That’s enough to earn him a squawk and a push from Robin, who tells Chrissy. “Don’t listen to him, me and my lunch are perfectly happy together.” A statement that gets a giggle out of Chrissy as Robin stares at her with wide eyes.

She’s an odd girl, Steve decides, before inserting himself into the conversation again.

With the ice broken between them conversation comes easier. Steve knows Robin isn’t being as bitchy as she usually is and even Chrissy is toning down her rough edges, but he can see the two getting along.

He, himself, is starting to warm up to Robin too, as long as she stops her prodding, which she might. He hopes so at least. Anyway, the point is, it would be nice to have more friends and actually get along with the girl, whom he’s going to be stuck with for the rest of the summer. And if that girl and his admittedly best friend could get along too, that would be extra lovely. As he’d seen on the cheer squad, girls fighting could get mean.

But he doesn’t have to worry about that, they’re getting along, even teaming up against Steve at some point. Which is rude, honestly.

Chrissy does have to go home after a while. Robin is distracted by Erica Sinclair and her gang, when Chrissy decides to go, giving the other girl a quick goodbye. Then she turns to Steve and asks: “Can we have a sleep over together soon? We can order pizza and watch stupid movies and I can annoy you with my crushes.”

Steve aches to agree. He knows how she has been stuck with her mother while Steve sorted himself out and he wants to help out. The sleepovers have been a haven for both of them. However, Steve can’t even get into his own house and he’s lying to Chrissy that he can.

“I don’t know if I can manage soon, but I’ll tell you the moment I can,” he settles her, trying not to let the way her face falls slightly get to him. “But you can hang out here every day. I’ll even buy you lunch on my breaks, promise.”

That cheers her up a bit and she says: “I’m holding you to that, Stevie. See you tomorrow.”

“See you,” Steve says as he watches her leave.

Soon, he and Robin are closing up Scoops Ahoy, both of the seem to be lost in thought and Steve is grateful for it. He doesn’t need another interrogation from Robin.

Instead of driving straight to the Byers house, he makes his way to Loch Nora, hands tight on the wheel as his old house comes into focus.

He hasn’t been here since he got kicked out and a part of him thought his parents might still be around. Might want to stay with Steve out of their way. But it seems not, because the house looms over him as empty and dark as it has always had.

His body isn’t doing as told, so he climbs out of the car with jerky movements, having to fumble with the keys. He still hasn’t gotten around to trading his car, but so far it’s still unharmed. It must be hard to find among the masses at the mall, he muses.

Thinking about his car isn’t as big a distraction as he hoped it would be. He’s still standing in front of a familiar door, the keys jangling with how much his hand is shaking. Steve isn’t sure what will be worse, the door opening or it staying closed. The fact that his parents didn’t care enough to even bother fulfilling their threats or if the only time they cared was to fulfill them.

Slowly, he brings the key to the door. It goes in for a bit and Steve’s breath catches. Then the key stops moving and no pressure Steve dares to put on it can get it further.

They changed the locks.

His parents, who have never been home for more than a few days in years, cared to changed the locks, just to keep him out. Their hatred for who he is, is bigger than the indifference they have always had towards him as he tried his hardest to make them proud. All he had to do to get their attention was disappointing them too much to ignore.

Tears make his vision blurry and not for the first time does he wish that he can change, that he can stare at a girl and feel what all his friends always seemed to feel. That he could like Nancy the way he fooled himself into thinking he did. That he could be what his father wanted.

The last thought sends a wave of anger through him. He has tried so fucking hard, he’s still fucking trying and it’s not going to be enough. It never is.

So, he pushes away the tears, not willing to cry. He’s still going to try and find a girlfriend just to get rid of the target on his back, but he is refusing to cry over his parents changing the locks. He isn’t going to give them that.

Steve turns around pointedly and stalks back to his car, before driving to the Byers house where Joyce is already cooking. He greets her and Will, who is drawing at the table, only Joyce greets him back and he tries not to let that get to him either.

He takes a quick shower and changes into his normal clothes. His insides are still all messed up, but he is determined not to make dinner awkward again. He is still a Harrington (at least, he thinks so) and Harringtons play their part. He can use that bit of upbringing to make the Byers happy in their own home while he stays there.

When he gets back to the kitchen, Will has retreated into his room. It hurts more than Steve is willing to admit.

That evening passes as so many others have done. Though Steve is making more of an effort to talk, which is appreciated by Joyce, who is more fun to talk to than Steve had realized before today. He still doesn’t believe she cares that much about him, but he likes talking to her anyway.

The next morning, he rolls off the couch and into his uniform, covering his bruise once more, before driving to the mall. He’s going to see that mall more often than he would like this summer, he thinks as he sighs.

~~

A/N:

I love Steve as a queer mentor for Will, trust me I do and I’m gonna try and make it happen later, but you gotta be in the Right Place to be that for someone and Steve definitely isn’t right now. And yeah that hurts Will, but it hurts Steve too and it isn’t his fault that he isn’t ready. Queer reality is messy and I wanted to show that <3

Also, I am dying about Robin and Steve before they became besties, it’s so weird to writeeee ahhhhh

[shmowder]

Slow dancing with Yulia in some dimly lit bar, soft music in the background, and the chatter of patrons in-between nursing their drinks. You smell her cologne the closer she leans into you. Her lips glisten red, stained courtesy of the wine—the glass long forgotten on the abandoned table.

You lead, her leg resting its weight atop yours to prevent any discomfort movement would cause her. You're barely phased by her foot weighting on your shoe, carrying her through the restricted space with grace.

She smells of smoke, holding you tight, lips pressed thin, for she can't trust herself not to drown in yours. While a show of sodomy in broad daylight would be frowned upon—even in a peculiar town such as this—but no one would bat an eye at the two women kissing in a basement bar, chalking it up to alcohol and the fragile easily-impressionable feminine mind. This one bubble of absolute freedom the architect fashioned for all those who seek another bite of the apple still.

But Yulia bites her tongue into place instead. She cannot, words echo in her mind.

Not out of reverence for some higher power, neither heaven nor hell ever held an appeal for her. The equations on the chalkboard spoke of fate and only fate, no sin or virtue. for Sapphos eros for her lovers wasn't sinful, yet the desire Yulia held for you was anything but. It transcends all decency, threatens to steal the thin veil of civility she drapes over herself, and rip it to shreds.

Just for a taste of your lips.

So she lets you carry her, overindulge in the feel of your arms enclosed around her waist. No need to ache your heart with her perverseness; she'll take her fantasies with her to the grave.

As for now, as you sway her around, she can only dream.

[ask-emo-raiden]

U should totally, like, talk to those cool college kids!!!! I heardz one of them mite b related to u O_o zomg freakyzzzz

(e_e) that would b rly weird if that was true...

don't think any of them are though, they don't look the type

they're all too cool to be related to my family LOL

one of guys even has silver hair which is rly cool, and then there's a girl who has red hair, and then another guy with a totally buzzed head and sometimes at the right angle when the sun is going down it hits his dome and gets me in the eye (>A<)

i've been seeing this new guy hang around with them tho, he looks younger a bit so maybe he's from a different school or something, and he's got super long dark brown hair that he keeps in a ponytail which is kinda gay but it looks fine on him i guess

maybe i'll try talking to them once i get to senior year...

[ronmanmob]

5. The sender extends a hand to the receiver, a gesture of trust in the face of danger.

Hand-Related Starters Meme

Though he tried to keep the legal and illegal spheres of his life firmly separate, an inevitable crossing of streams occurred one evening in Soho. Out for drinks and a live show at a jazz club Ron frequented, he and Victor were happened upon by two lags out a Richardson bent. The pair stared, lingered, then approached with the kind of assurance only new, youngling gangbangers had about 'em in face of one of the Big Dogs of the East End. Instinctively Victor'd reached a hand for Ron's as the gobshites neared them, unused to their sort as he was.

"Seen this, Tel?" one barked to the other.

"Faggots, yeah?" Tel replied, shoulder to shoulder with his nameless mate. "Y'know wha' we's do t'th likes'a yous rahnd this mannah?"

It was all Ron could do not to laugh. Po-faced instead, incensed by their language, their attitude, he reached a hand out so he could cross it over Victor's. In it he held a loaded gun.

"Go'orn then" he prompted as Tel plus one jolted where they stood, shocked by the sight of a real, not for show, not for kicks-held weapon. "Tell us wha' it is y'do t'faggots, lad. 'N make it fast, yeah? Else y'll find aht wha' this'n plans t'do t'you."

To say the chancers parted Ron and Victor's company swiftly after that would've been as big an exercise in understatement as saying the sea was a little wet. With a roll of black eyes Ron tucked his Luger away and returned his attention to his beau.

"Y'alrigh' there, darlin'?" he asked quietly.

[professor-nikolai-frost]

8. Have they had struggles with their identity, be it due to internal or external reasons?

IC and OOC?

I do not feel that there is much to struggle with in my identity. Of course, I have had times of wondering if I was pursuing the proper path in the area of academics or career goals, but I am satisfied with who I am currently.

OOC Answer: A little? I think he's currently struggling the most he ever has since the last time he really came out was back when he was a child and spoke to his aunt without really being old enough to realize the stigma, his aunt being the one to take care to gently help him as well as set up the current lavender marriage that he is in. Because of her help and her understanding, he was able to evade struggling too much. Now that he is away from home and is now being faced with questioning his gender identity, he would likely feel almost guilty to bring it up to his aunt because he would feel as though she had spent so much time helping him before and that this may invalidate all her hard work.

[schrijverr]

I Found Myself a Cheerleader 8

Chapter 8 out of 28

Bumped to the lowest step on the social ladder after his fight with Billy, Steve gets roped in with the cheer team. What starts as a favor to help them out when one member breaks her leg in turn for protection from the brunt of the bullying, sets the universe on a different path.

In this chapter, Steve gets used to working at Scoops Ahoy and time passes by until Dustin returns back to town, pulling Steve back into the bullshit that hides in Hawkins. When he and Robin get taken by Russians, their tentative friendship turns into a bond that will never be broken.

On AO3.

Ships: eventual steddie & buckingham

Warnings: period typical homophobia, torture, f-slur, child abuse mention, internalized homophobia mention

~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 8: The Mall

June is steadily passing. Steve is still working with Robin, whom he’s cautiously friends with now. She still sometimes looks at him like she expects him to punch her or like he’s going to explode, but that’s rarely.

Chrissy comes by often too and Robin is starting to be normal around her too. Less anxious rambling and more laughing about stupid shit.

Things with Chrissy have been a bit odd. They’re still friends and she hangs around Scoops Ahoy more often than not, but Steve has to deflect to stop her from finding out he’s still staying at the Byers house.

Still, he maintains that their camping sleep over they had at the lakes was great. They even got to stunt without a back spotter, because they were doing it in the water.

However, Chrissy has been send off to bible camp for a few weeks, which has given Steve a reprieve from keeping up the lie. Hopefully when she gets back Steve will have his own place and he can play it off. If Steve had known then what would happen between now and her getting back, he might not have thought that, but still.

Will has also warmed back up to him, which he is more grateful for than he wants to admit. There is less connection between them than there had been in his kitchen that morning when he came by with Dustin, but still. He’s no longer overtly hurt by Steve not admitting he’s gay.

The kids are annoying him quite regularly at work ever since Will figured out over dinner that Steve can sneak them into the movies with his job. Steve doesn’t mind, though he pretends he does, those little shits make him happier than he’ll ever tell them.

All this to say that he’s been settling in okay at Scoops Ahoy. It’s become a familiar place where he found his groove and though his flirting has gotten him nowhere, something Robin delights in for some reason, he isn’t getting confused looks anymore.

Besides, he doesn’t care that much that the girls don’t take him up on his offer for a date. He can’t really spare the money for it and despite fooling himself that he liked girls for many years, now that he’s aware, he can’t really see the appeal that much. They just don’t do it for him.

Still, he has pick up lines that he can pull out and he knows his hair is well liked, though the latter is covered by his stupid uniform.

He’s getting off topic, the point is that he’s gotten comfortable at Scoops Ahoy, which means he doesn’t expect Eddie Munson to walk into the place, looking like a walking wet dream. The man is still jeans, but he has dropped the leather jacket in favor of just wearing his battle jacket and a cutoff band shirt, which show off his arms in ways that should be illegal. Like, since when does Eddie have tattoos?

Steve shakes himself out of it, trying to be casual, as Eddie rolls up to the register with a: “Stevie, hey, man.”

“Ahoy, are you ready to set sail on an ocean of flavors with me? I’ll be your captain,” Steve finds himself greeting back. His cheeks light up at his own words and he ignores how this is a line he used on some of the girls, because it was honestly instinct and not something he wants to say to Eddie.

Fuck, he wants Eddie to think he’s cool, or at least not a massive looser that got kicked out. So, he aims to make it goofy halfway through. To play it off as a joke, because part of him knows the greeting might make Eddie laugh.

He’s right in that regard and is rewarded by one of Eddie’s deep laughs that make his insides curl up in the best way. “Wow, that is truly something,” Eddie grins. “I can’t believe you’re an ice cream slinging sailor.”

“Shut up, dude,” Steve huffs, the annoyance not landing as anything he means.

“Not judging, not judging,” Eddie assures him. “It’s not like I have the best ways of obtaining some money.”

Steve shrugs in a way that says ‘that’s fair’ because drug dealer indeed isn’t the best occupation to have. He moves on. “So, I’m guessing you came here for ice cream and not to laugh at me? What flavor do you want?”

“Uuuhm,” Eddie replies, tapping his plush lips with one of his long fingers in a way that has Steve fighting not to stare. Then he gets hit by Eddie’s big eyes, now a tad apologetic. “I’m gonna be honest, don’t know, man. I just want to cool down. The heat is killer.”

“We offer samples,” Steve tells him, because he wants Eddie to have a nice treat. It’s clear he doesn’t go out often and Steve want his experience with Steve to be nice. He’s aware that’s slightly pathetic, but he doesn’t care.

Eddie lights up at the offer, which makes it worth it, and asks: “Really? That’s cool, dude. What do you recommend?”

“I don’t know, what do you like?” Steve shoots back.

“Chocolate?” Eddie offers.

“We have peanut butter chocolate swirl,” Steve says, remembering the flavor because it just came in and Robin forced him to carry the heavy tub.

“That’s sounds nice,” Eddie says, eyes lighting up at the name.

A sense of pride and satisfaction rises up at the reaction that Steve attempts to push down as he scoops up a sample for Eddie. He hands it to him with a: “Here you go.”

“Why thank you,” Eddie replies, taking it with a courtesy, which makes Steve roll his eyes, though any snarky response to it dies in his throat as Eddie licks off the ice cream. Steve’s eyes tracking his tongue and his insides lighting up at the small moan Eddie lets out. “This is fucking good.”

“Glad you like it,” Steve squeaks. “Want a whole scoop?”

“Fuck yeah,” Eddie grins. “In a cup, please.”

“So polite,” Steve manages to joke, re-finding his post-puberty voice. He busies himself with scooping Eddie some ice cream, missing how Eddie’s eyes are glued to his arms, as he asks: “So, what brought you to the mall?”

“I have refused here to come on principle. Malls are a capitalistic hellscape that are here to create a monopoly and run local people out of business,” Eddie informs him, like that is a casual thing to say and, for Eddie, it kind of is. “However, even I can’t resist the siren song of a record shop that carries more metal. So alas, I have crumbled under the pressure of The Man. But don’t think I’ll be back here again!” he exclaims at the end.

The statement makes Steve sadder than he wants to be. He reminds himself that keeping his distance for Eddie is smarter, that it is good that Eddie isn’t going to come by every day and lick ice cream obscenely in front of Steve’s face. But that doesn’t squash the disappointment in his chest completely.

“Well, the enjoy ice cream on the house for your hardship,” he says, offering Eddie his cup with a charming smile. Eddie blushes a bit, Steve is almost sure, but he pushes the observation down as far as it will go.

Eddie ignores it too, taking the cup with a dramatic gesture as he proclaims: “My many thanks, kind shop keeper! Your generosity shall not be forgotten.”

“Yeah, yeah, stop making a scene,” Steve laughs. “Just take your ice cream and enjoy it.” Preferably somewhere I can’t see you lick it or I’ll combust, he adds mentally.

“I will. Thank you, Stevie,” Eddie says as he takes a bite from his ice cream using the sample spoon still in his hands. He hums happily, before waving at Steve and skipping out of the store, leaving Steve to stare at the place he occupied earlier.

“Your turn to take a break,” Robin snaps him out of his staring as she comes out of the backroom and Steve is grateful that he has a chance to gather himself, before getting back to work.

A few days later and he is coming out of that same backroom with excitement. Dustin is back in town and he has missed the squirt. He’s missed him so much. Dustin, who hasn’t heard what’s going on, who will never see the bruise that has already faded, who comes with grant tales of his adventures and who still treats Steve like the cooler older brother.

If Steve is honest, he doesn’t believe much of the Russian message story, but it’s a distraction.

Dustin’s excitement is infectious, despite all that has happened to the kid, he hasn’t let that dull his excitement about adventure. Steve doesn’t share much of the sentiment, but goes along with it. This way he can also keep Dustin safe, should it go wrong.

Helping Dustin with his project also means he isn’t out there serving ice cream. It says a lot about how far he and Robin have come from those first awkward days that she lets him bail on her like that to spend time with Dustin.

It also gives him a break from flirting with girls he doesn’t like, which is nice. He’s lost motivation for it pretty quickly, especially after finding out about the changed lock. He still feels the need to do it to protect himself, unable to stop himself from noticing how the targeting has gone down ever since he started flirting with girls again. But he doesn’t want to find a wife just to get back in his father’s good graces again. He’s happy to never see him, if he’s honest.

So, he’s happy to hide in the backroom and even happier to wipe away the fail board Robin made for him. He wants to tell her that he’s failing on purpose, but he can’t so it stands there as a reminder.

The two of them are not really getting anywhere with the translation. Steve honestly isn’t sure why Dustin even asked him, both know he’s not the smartest. But then again, he told Steve something about the others ditching him and Will also mentioned something about everyone getting more distant, busy with their girlfriends. Ahh, shitty old puberty.

Not that Dustin isn’t terrible with how he keeps bringing up Suzie, how amazing she is, how Steve should also find his Suzie. But he manages to ignore that for now.

Steve is sure that when the shine wears off, they’ll all return to how they were before. With what they have shared, it’s impossible not to. So, he just basks in getting to spend time with Dustin and tries not to worry about the kids too much.

However, Robin’s good graces run out at some point and she demands Steve do his job again and let her have a crack at the code. They obviously haven’t been hiding it as well as they thought they were, yet Steve feels the need to deny it and not let her get involved.

They’re not dealing with the Upside Down, just a Russian transmission. It’s not like they’re going to run into trouble in Hawkins over this, but still… Robin is nice. Well, she can be a bitch, but in the best way and Steve doesn’t want to see her get hurt over another one of Dustin’s projects.

But Robin is also stubborn and by the looks of her, he isn’t going to get her to back off. She’s also crazy smart on top of that, so if they actually want to succeed, they need her help.

So, he folds, like he so often does and goes to scoop ice cream again as Robin helps Dustin translate his coded Russian message.

As he scoops, he can’t help but perk up at every head of curly brown hair that walks in. He knows what Eddie told him about not coming back and he also knows he promised himself to keep his distance from Eddie, but still… He can’t help but look. Hope that Eddie will come back and he’ll get to hear more of that banter and watch him eat another scoop of ice cream.

Instead, however, he is stuck with the masses, who are indulging themselves on their outing to the mall or just because the weather is so hot. The most thrilling thing that happens is Robin popping in with the first sentence, which isn’t thrilling at all.

It’s only that evening that things take a turn for the weird. Well, weirder, this is Hawkins after all, it is never truly normal here.

But, things always manage to get weirder and while Steve hasn’t been much help in translating, the music that played still bugs him. And it is not until they’re walking through the mall after closing the shop that he realizes why.

He is naturally teased by both Dustin and Robin as he suddenly stops at the horse and asks for a quarter, however he shuts them up when the music starts playing and they all recognize it. The same music as from the intercepted message.

The Russians aren’t in Russia at all, they’re in Hawkins.

Mentally Steve rearranges what this means. Russians in Hawkins. They probably don’t have an army here, people would notice that, so it’s a small spying operation at best. They can take a small spying operation, right? Can’t be much worse than the demodogs or demogorgon.

For a second, Steve wonders why he ever let himself caught up in this all. He knows he’s going to go along with it again, he can’t bear to let Dustin do this alone, or with Robin, who seems equally excited about the prospect. Though he can forgive Robin, because she hasn’t been nearly gnawed to death a few months prior. Dustin has no excuse though.

They all agree to go on a spy mission tomorrow, assigning tasks to everyone and agreeing on times to meet up. Then Steve drops Dustin off at home, waving at Mrs. Henderson, who has always been nice to him, albeit a little confused, before driving to the Byers House.

When he gets there, it’s already late. And he feels bad about not calling when he sees how relieved Joyce looks that he’s alright. He isn’t used to anyone wondering where he is.

“I saved you some dinner,” Joyce tells him, not mentioning that she worried and Steve doesn’t either.

“Thanks,” he says, then, because he feels the need to apologize, he add: “Sorry, for missing it and not saying.”

“It’s okay,” Joyce immediately assures him. “But it should be criminal they keep you this late.”

“Oh, no, I stayed late, because-” Steve hesitates, not sure if he wants to involve Joyce in this nonsense again. He knows it’s different, it’s not the Upside Down and her boys aren’t involved, with all she’s been through, she probably doesn’t feel the need to go investigating again. Best to leave her be. “Because I was still chatting with Robin,” he decides on.

“You went on a date!” Will suddenly speaks up from his place at the table, managing to sound surprised and betrayed.

“What, I-” Steve reacts, before he can think about it, stopping himself in his tracks. He doesn’t want to confirm anything. He definitely doesn’t want to put Robin in a spot where she has to lie for him or himself in a spot where he has to explain why. But it’s also a good way to continue building his safety net.

So, he stays quiet and blushes when Joyce smiles teasingly and chides Will: “Leave the man be, Will. He can go out if he likes. No need for the yelling.”

Will obviously disagrees with that statement and turns back to his notes, probably a campaign, with a huff.

Great.

Fucked that up again.

Morosely Steve eats his cold dinner as he looks at Will scribbling away. He wants to ask about what he’s doing, but he’s not in the mood for the inevitable attitude. So, he finishes his dinner and gets ready for bed, he has a weird day tomorrow.

The next day, he finds himself hiding behind the potted plants in his stupid uniform with some binoculars and Dustin by his side. He takes back all he’s thought about wanting Eddie to come back, he would probably die with humiliation if Eddie saw him like this.

Still, Dustin seems to be enjoying himself, which is good. However, Steve doesn’t want him to get too caught up in the whole thing when it might end up in disappointment. So he pretends to be annoyed a guy is talking to some girl, which sets Dustin off on a tangent.

He starts regretting it when Dustin starts up about Robin again. It’s a little on him. He should have known that for a straight guy a coworker would have been an obvious person to try and date, but he never even thought about it.

“No, man, she’s not my type,” he says to try and curb the conversation, trying to balance shelving the topic and not saying anything incriminating. “She’s not even in the ballpark of what my type is, all right?”

His plea for Dustin to drop it is not heard as he moves on to constructs of popularity and high school ecosystems.

It reminds Steve of the fact that Dustin has no clue how far he fell and what he faced at school when he became a cheerleader. And that Dustin has no clue how high school works if he thinks Steve didn’t face massive amounts of shit for that. Fuck, he hopes Dustin finds a place next year.

Before he can spiral or Dustin’s rant can get further out of hand, they’re distracted by a possible Russian spy, who turns out to be a jazz aerobics instructor. A very hot jazz aerobics instructor, though Steve is denying that to anyone who asks.

When they get back, Robin has cracked the code. Steve watches her mouth move as fast as her brain as she stands there, explaining her findings.

Starcourt mall is a drop off point for the spy operation they have going on here. They’re going to drop shit off here and then a Russian spy will come in and get it. It takes Steve only one glimpse at Dustin for him to realize that the kid is planning to get to that drop off first.

By now, they’re all too far in for them to stop looking now, besides Steve hasn’t seen any Russians all day. Whatever spy is in Hawkins, it can’t be a dangerous one, or a very big group.

From there it snowballs and it snowballs fast.

They get maps, they plan, they bribe Erica Sinclair to help and get the equipment. Before Steve knows it, he is in the bowels of the earth surrounded by way more Russians than should be there with the possibility of the Upside Down being back.

Panic is beating in his chest as he tries to lead Dustin, Erica and Robin to safety. In his mind all he can think of is how stupid he’s been to go along with Dustin, to underestimate the threat, to let Robin get involved, fuck, to get Erica involved. She’s only ten. Fuck.

He is also starting to realize that they’re not making it out. Not this time. He has to do something if he doesn’t want anyone to die on his watch.

They’re coming up at a door. It’s a room. A dead end. Steve makes the split second decision to throw himself against it, yelling to the others to hide and get out. Behind him, Dustin and Erica go look for an exit, while Robin throws herself against the door as well.

The action surprises Steve, he’s sure she would have run out of here as fast as she can, but instead she helps him. Despite the fact that Robin is less strong than him, her presence helps and Steve is grateful for her and the fact that he’s been spending half a year lifting girls up in the air, which helped with his muscle mass.

Russians are now fully banging against the door. Steve mentally goes through everyone, the number one priority are Dustin and Erica, they’re both children and Dustin knows what adult to go to about this to get help.

So, he and Robin hold the door, watch them go, listen to Dustin promise he won’t forget him. And the only thing Steve can feel is despair, because he knows he isn’t going to make it out.

Once the kids are far enough away that he doesn’t think they’ll get caught, he turns to Robin and says: “You get out now.” He gives her a grin neither of them believe in as the door continues to rattle. “I’ll hold them off.”

Steve expects her to back off, to leave, to maybe look back with an anguished look, or repeat what Dustin told him earlier. He expects her to run.

What he never would have seen coming is for her to shake her head, to try to smile even if she looks as scared as he feels, to square her shoulders and say: “I’m not leaving you, dingus. You can’t keep this door closed without me.”

And Steve laughs a little, because otherwise he’ll cry.

Both of them know, they’re not keeping door closed together either, but it doesn’t matter. They are going to try and then they’re going to fail and then they’re going to die, but they aren’t going to die alone.

Steve never realized how badly he wants someone to be there when the Upside Down nonsense finally takes them out. How badly he wants to be witnessed, even if it is only for his final moment. How glad he is to not be alone right now.

He grabs her hand, like they had on the rooftop and squeezes, giving her a small smile he hopes is reassuring. She squeezes back, managing a watery smile of her own, before silent tears start to slide down her face.

The door swings open, flinging them backwards. Men stream into the tiny room and Steve gets roughly dragged away. He feels Robin’s fingers slip from his own and lets out a loud yell as he struggles, but it isn’t enough.

They get separated.

He’s alone.

Well, not really alone. A man in an intimidating uniform with an equally intimidating entourage is in the room with him and he can only hope Robin doesn’t have the same company he does, especially when they start to lay into him.

The man asks him questions about why he’s here and who he works for. Steve assumes the man is expecting him to confess to being a spy, to infiltrating their base on purpose, ready to face what is happening right now.

But Steve isn’t ready to face this right now. He is scared, alone and cold. His head is racing and all he can manage is the truth.

It quickly becomes clear that the truth isn’t good enough.

They lay into him, heavy hands meeting his head and his ribs. It hurts more than Billy last fall, more than his father laying into him, more than anything Steve has experienced before. Whoever this Russian is, he is a professional and he is good at his job.

Steve is crying, unable to keep a facade of unbothered masculinity. He doesn’t want to pretend right now, he just wants to disappear. It hurts so so bad, his head is swimming and they just keep yelling at him.

In front of his eyes, flashes Eddie when he came into Scoops Ahoy. How he looked in that outfit, his arms that bulged as he moved, his tongue over the sample spoon and the little moan he let out when he tasted the ice cream.

Now Steve wishes that he hadn’t turned his line into a joke. That he’d flirted for real, maybe even made Eddie blush instead of laugh. How he could maybe have scored a date with the guy he’s been crushing on for a while now.

Fuck, he doesn’t want to die scared.

He doesn’t want to die without having kissed a boy.

He doesn’t want to die pretending to be someone he’s not.

He doesn’t want to die in another mask.

At this point Steve is screwing his eyes closed, as if he’s five, playing hide and seek with his mother, who isn’t even searching for him. How he hid behind a plant that couldn't conceal him, but because he closed his own eyes and couldn't see his mother, he was convinced she couldn't see him either. In a way that had been true.

He just hopes they haven’t hurt Robin too. He likes Robin. She’s become a friend in their time working together and he is the reason she’s down here, stuck in a base, likely dying unless Dustin gets back with backup in time.

His ears are already ringing, the hurt a part of his being, so he snaps into focus when after a particularly bad hit, the ringing suddenly stops. Surprised he looks up, then the world spins and he blacks out.

When he comes to, there is still a feint ringing and his skull is pounding, but there are no more screaming men and at his back is a warm presence, an oddly soothing smell of artificial strawberry fills his nose. His peace, however, is broken by Robin, who yells: “Help! Help!”

“Ugh, would you stop yelling,” he murmurs.

Immediately Robin moves behind him and there is relief in her voice that he doesn’t have the brain capacity to tie to his own awaking. She exclaims: “Steve! Oh my god! Steve, are- are you okay?”

With more consciousness also comes the awareness of his own body. Steve takes stock of how he’s feeling, which is pretty terrible, but he doesn’t want to worry Robin more. They’re tied back to back, so it’s not like she can check. He jokes: “My ears are ringing, and I can't really breathe, my eye feels like it's about to pop out of my skull, but, you know, apart from that, I'm doing pretty good.”

“Well, the good news is that they're calling you a doctor,” Robin laughs, sounding on the border of panic and hysteria. Maybe not the best joke.

“Is this his place of work?” Steve asks, trying again to keep her mind of it by turning up the bitchiness. “I love the vibe. Charming.”

This time her chuckle is more normal and her rib cage is no longer going haywire against his own, which had hurt. She seems more level headed and ready to think. In fact, she even thinks of a way they could maybe escape.

Their situation feels pretty hopeless, but Steve is willing to try anything. It’s not like it can get any worse.

So, the two of them hop on their chairs together. The first hop goes good, the second one also works. A bubble of hope starts to build in Steve’s chest that is immediately crushed as they crash to the ground together, more pain shooting through him.

It takes a second before he reorients himself again. Then he becomes aware of the choked noises from behind and how Robin’s shoulders are shaking. His heart hurts for her, how she’s stuck here with him and he tries to soothe her. “It’s okay, it’s okay. Don’t cry. Robin.”

Then he hears her giggle. Giggle. She’s not crying at all. Confusion and worry for her sanity go through him as he asks: “Are you laughing?” in an incredulous voice.

“Yeah,” Robin gasps.

“Jesus,” Steve sighs.

“I’m sorry!” Robin exclaims. “I’m so sorry. It’s just- I can’t believe I’m gonna die in a secret Russian base with Steve “The Hair” Harrington. It’s just too trippy, man.”

Steve ignores the call to his earlier persona. His straight persona he realizes now, his shield against eyes that could know something about him. Instead he focuses on Robin thinking she’s going to die down here. He agrees of course, but he’s going to do everything in his power to get her out of here alive, even if that means dying himself.

“We’re not going to die,” he tells her. “We’re gonna get out of here, okay? Just- You gotta let me just think for a second.”

He has never been the guy that made the plan and the whole situation looks hopeless. Still, he wracks his pounding brain for anything they can do.

A few seconds later and Robin is breaking their thinking silence again, asking: “Do you remember, uhm, Mrs. Click’s sophomore history class?”

“What?” Steve asks in turn, not sure if she genuinely asked that or if he’s starting to hallucinate her asking about school right now.

“Mrs. Clickity-Clackity. That’s what us band dweebs called her,” Robin goes on as if he never said anything at all. “It was first period, Tuesdays and Thursdays, so you were always late. And you always had the same breakfast. Bacon, egg, and cheese on a sesame bagel.”

Steve remembers none of this and he listens to Robin talk about him, her voice becoming more bitter as she goes on: “I sat behind you two days a week for a year. Mister Funny. Mister Cool. The King of Hawkins High himself.”

At her words Steve hearts starts to plummet and it breaks when she asks: “Do you even remember me from that class?”

She is quiet for a second, waiting for an answer, but Steve can’t bring his mouth to shape any words, doesn’t have any that would communicate how he feels. He can’t tell her how much he hates the guy he used to be, can’t excuse what he did, can’t make it right.

So he sits there, silent, as Robin sighs: “Of course you don’t. You were a real asshole, you know that?”

And all Steve can do is say: “Yeah, I know,” because he does.

After a second, Robin goes on, apparently not done yet. “But it didn’t even matter. It didn’t matter that you were an ass. Even though all of us losers pretend to be above it all, we still just wanna be popular, accepted, normal.”

Steve thinks back on all the nights he spend alone, wishing he was different, wishing he was normal, wishing his parents would love him, wishing he could be what his father wants him to be, and he gets it. Gets her.

He wants to reach out to her, tell her he understands, connect with her. He wants to tell her about Eddie and what he realized as he was getting his face beat in. But he can’t tell her that yet, they still have to try and make it out of here and he can’t have her be disgusted by him. Or heartbroken and unwilling to listen.

Yeah, Steve isn’t that stupid. Robin used to be obsessed with him, he knows what that means, and it hurts, because she might be one of his best friends now and he doesn’t want to loose her just because she has a crush on him.

Maybe he’ll tell her when they get out of here.

For now, he just says: “If it makes you feel any better, having those things isn’t all that great. Seriously. Everything that people tell you is important, everything that people say you should care about, it’s all just… bullshit. Besides, they turn on you just as easily.”

“Like when you did cheerleading?” Robin asks him softly. It’s the first time she mentioned it ever since she first asked.

“Yeah,” he replies equally soft, suddenly feeling vulnerable.

“I thought it was cool you did that,” she tells him. “It really sucked what they did to you, but you never seemed bother my it. Mister Unflappable, you were. For a second, I thought-” Robin cuts herself off. “Doesn’t matter. It was just really messed up.”

“It kind of was,” Steve agrees, then to lighten the mood, he says: “At least it can’t get any more messed up than this.”

Both of them laugh at that, Steve’s ribs hurting at the movement, but neither of them care, because they need to laugh at something at this point.

Once the laughter has died down again, Steve says: “You know, I wish I’d known you in Click’s class.”

“Yeah?” Robin replies, like she doesn’t believe it.

“Really, I do,” he assures her, because he needs her to know how glad he is he knows her. She can be a massive bitch and it wasn’t easy to get along with her at first, but she’s never been fake-nice like so many of the old people he hung around with, or cruel. She means what she says, it just comes out wrong sometimes. She is so weird and he loves her.

The mood is going down again and Steve hates that. The floor is already cold enough and any hope of getting away seems further and further away, they don’t need to be morose on top of that.

“Maybe you could’ve helped me pass the class,” he jokes. “Maybe instead of being here, I’d be on my way to college right now.”

“And I would have no idea that there were evil Russians beneath our feet, and I would be happily slinging ice cream with some other schmuck,” Robin adds.

It sounds crazy to think about. To not be here with Robin. To not have fed Chrissy ice cream every day for weeks. To not have waived Eddie’s ice cream costs, because he had already been through enough having to face the mall for his music. To not have been there when Dustin intercepted the message.

God, he can’t imagine Dustin being here alone, or with one of the other idiots he calls friends. He can’t really picture it. Having to hear how they got hurt, how they might have died, while he wasn’t here to protect them.

But maybe if he had made it into college, his father wouldn’t have been so mad. Maybe Steve would still be living in his old house. Maybe his father wouldn't have cared about the cheerleading and instead would have been proud of Steve.

He tries to imagine that. Tries to picture how his father would have looked, but he can’t. Holy shit, he can’t even imagine how his father would look when proud.

A big part of Steve knows that it wouldn’t have mattered if he got into college. Richard Harrington would never be proud of his son, of Steve. Especially not when Steve joined the cheer squad. When he is thought to be a queer.

Nothing can be good enough to erase the fact that he’s a fag.

And Steve wonders why he can’t let it go like he told Chrissy to do. Why he still keeps looking back and wondering, even if he stopped trying to gain his father’s approval. Why it has to come back in this dark, cold Russian bunker.

His parents might not even hear he’s died here, even if he dies as a hero. They’re not even here and Steve doubts they’ll come back.

He is so tired of trying for them.

He wants to stop.

He knows what he is. He is a fag and he’s proud of it, screw them. He’s gotten too close to death too many times for him to want to die like this. He doesn’t want to work in an office with his father, wearing stuffy suits for the rest of his life.

No, Steve wants to bitch with Robin as they sling ice cream at Scoops Ahoy, wants make Chrissy fly, because she smiles so widely that it must hurt when he does, wants to listen to Dustin talk about Suzie or complain about his friends, unable to hide his fondness under the annoyance.

Fuck, he wants to talk to Will, tell him how queer he is, how scared he is, how it is the reason and that he’s sorry he lied. Wants to see if Joyce’s promise that it was okay still holds. Wants to know what it would be like to kiss a boy.

Wants to know what it would be like to kiss Eddie specifically.

However, instead of saying any of that, he says: “Gotta say, though, I liked being your schmuck. It was fun while it lasted.”

Because he can’t verbalize all the other things. Their fate seems hopeless now and all he wants is for Robin to know that he doesn’t care how fucked up it has all been, he still liked working with her and he wouldn’t want to be here with anyone else.

And when Robin says: “It was,” Steve knows she understands and she means the same.

~~

A/N:

My lesbian ass might have underestimated my ability to write a gay man, but I stay strong and I try xp (also pls don’t be mad if I mess up, I’m sensitive)

Also not Steve thinking Joyce wouldn't want to know he’s getting caught up into something again, im weeping, this lady has no chill, Stevie, and she caresssss. Let Her Care! Let Her Solve The Mystery! Let Her Help!

By the way, can you imagine how terrifying those last moments at the door were? How scary it must have been to be taken? I am so emotional about them <3