#wayne pov

[hairmetal666]

Wayne's used to worrying about Eddie. He should be; he's been doing it since the kid was twelve. First it was Eddie's silence, his permanent frown, the way the bones stood out too prominent on his small wrists. Then it was the kids at school, taunting him and calling him names, the fights and calls from the principal's office. Next came the late nights, the drinking, the dealing, failing his senior year twice. But all of those times, every single one, Wayne had known what to do. Maybe it wasn't perfect, maybe it took a little time, but he'd always figured out exactly what his boy needed.

And now--now Wayne doesn't know if he can help; knows it's not in his power to fix it. 

So, he sits for the second week in a row, watching his nephew--his whole heart--sitting in front of the window, looking out at the forest, nursing the same cup of coffee that he poured six hours ago, and wonders how in the world he can help.

They're cleaning up from dinner, Eddie quiet at his side, when he says, "Gonna need some help with the mugs tomorrow."

After moving to Oregon once Eddie graduated and he retired, he found an affinity for pottery. Never woulda thought it, but he loves it and tourists love his booth at the farmers market.

He can't think of a better way to get his nephew out of the house, but wonders if he doesn't know his boy as well as he thinks after a decade in Los Angeles, that Eddie'll refuse. He just nods, though, goes back to drying the plate in his hands.

And next morning, right at 6:45, Eddie is in the living room in black jeans that are so worn they're nearly grey in places, and the threadbare Metallica tee Wayne thrifted for him nearly a decade back. It's a win. Small, yes--Eddie doesn't even complain once about the country-western station Wayne plays in the truck--but still a step forward.

Wayne wastes no time parking and handing Eddie a box of carefully packed merchandise. He leads the way, trusts that Eddie is right on his heels until he hears Jim Hopper's voice say, "You better keep an eye on those mugs, son. Your uncle will tan your hide."

He turns to see Hopper balancing one end of Eddie's box, Eddie's cheeks flushed pink. "Sorry, I--uh, I've got it now." Hopper lets go and for the briefest instant Eddie's eyes dart to the side and the pink in his cheeks grows deeper.

Wayne tracks the path Eddie's eyes took and finds--he swallows back a chuckle--Steve Harrington just setting one of his Adirondack chairs into place, his t-shirt lifted to show of a stretch of stomach.

Well. Eddie did always like the pretty ones.

They setup the booth in companionable silence, and Hopper pops back over for a proper introduction. Before he departs again, he says to Eddie, "I got some kids who really love that dnd game and your show. They're going to be crazy to meet you. That okay?"

And Eddie, he's a good boy, he smiles and nods but as soon as Hopper is out of earshot, Wayne's saying, "Hop's kids and their friends are big fans and I know you're heartsore about the cancellation, but you better be polite."

Eddie glares. "What do you think, old man, that I'll be mean to children?"

"Well, with how you've been moping around the cabin these last few weeks, hard to know."

He scoffs. "Yeah, well. Netflix putting your hit show on indefinite hiatus without warning or explanation will do that to a guy."

Wayne knows there's nothing he can say to soften this hurt, so he gives Eddie's shoulder a tight squeeze. "I'm proud of you no matter what, son."

His nephew nods, eyes down, but Wayne doesn't miss the small, pleased, lift at the corner of his lips.

The morning passes smoothly and Wayne pretends he doesn't notice every time he finds Eddie's gaze straying to Steve's booth.

The kids come by around noon, Dustin Henderson breaking away from the pack to shriek, "You're Eddie Munson!"

Eddie smiles, stands. "That I am, young adventurer." He bows low, exaggerated and the kids giggle. "Pray tell, what are your names?"

The chatter is fast and easy, Eddie the happiest he's been in weeks, and Wayne relaxes back in his chair, lets out a long, slow breath of relief at the breaking storm. He stretches back in his chair, eyes catching on Steve Harrington across the way. Steve who is watching Eddie and the kids with an expression Wayne can only think of as fond.

Wayne isn't one to play matchmaker, but--he thinks, just maybe, just this once he could nudge.

It happens late in the afternoon, when business has well-slowed, Eddie asking, "Um--that guy over there, who is--what's his deal?"

Wayne thinks he manages to keep all traces of amusement from his face and voice as he answers, "Who? Ohh, Steve Harrington. He's the guidance counselor down at the middle school. Does a bit of carpentry in his free time. Best friends with the woman who owns that little bookstore."

He watches as Eddie processes, as his eyes widen, probably in remembrance of the pride flags and Protect Trans Kids shirts, how the woman in question wore a lesbian flag pin on her apron. "Guidance counselor?" He says eventually. "Kind of a drag."

"You would think, but the kids love him. The ones you met earlier today? He babysat them for years; imprinted on him, Jim and I say."

"Hmm," is the only response he gets, Eddie's attention back on the man in question.

---

The day after the market, Wayne walks into the living room to find Eddie's laptop tucked into the cushions of the window seat. He hasn't seen the thing since Eddie came home, never used to see him without it, and this--well.

He says, "need to run into town for a few things. You up for a trip? You might could stop at that bookstore."

Eddie nods, takes a sip of his coffee--he's actually drinking it-- says, "Yeah. Yeah, I think that'd be cool."

The store isn't busy when they arrive, and Wayne drifts towards the magazines to leave Eddie to his own devices.

Wayne loses himself to quiet browsing, wanting to give Eddie space, to maybe chat with Robin Buckley, strike up the beginnings of a friendship. Enough time passes, though, that Wayne is wondering where his boisterous, noticeable nephew could've disappeared to so silently.

He winds around a shelf and sees Eddie and Steve Harrington in deep conversation. He can't hear it, not really, but they're standing close, with pink in their cheeks. As he watches, Steve says something that makes Eddie laugh and pull a few strands of hair over his mouth.

They're almost inseparable after that. Eddie, Steve, Robin, and all those kids. They play dnd, have movie nights, spend hours at the diner. And Eddie, he's writing, sketching, gets down Wayne's acoustic guitar and plays around for a while.

When he asks how things are with "that Harrington boy," Eddie flushes red and says, "none of your business, old man" before giving Wayne a quick, affectionate squeeze. 

---

Two and a half months after Eddie came to stay, Wayne's walking back from the river, the sky the light navy of new dusk. His fishing rod is draped over one shoulder, tackle box held easily in his fist, the walk home pleasant, a perfect end to a good day.

The light from the front porch seeps through the trees, and he's thinking about a cold beer, a warm pizza, if Eddie's found his way home yet, when figures standing on the porch stop him in his tracks.

It takes a second, longer, for his eyes to adjust from the dark of the woods, and the glow of the bulb, but then he sees--

Eddie and Steve locked in a fierce embrace, desperate and very much private.

He turns right back towards the river, doesn't mind giving the boys some time.

He waits a good half hour, just enjoying the forest, before heading back. Steve's car is gone, the porch vacant, but the cabin is lit up, bright and warm and inviting.

Wayne steps inside, and his nephew is there, laptop open, but he isn't working, just smiling to himself, chin resting on his fist.

"Okay?" Wayne asks.

"Huh? Oh, yeah." Eddie's smile doesn't fall from his face.

He doesn't want to interfere, ask too much, not when he's sure things are still young. Instead, he asks, "What'd you say to ordering a pizza?"

And Eddie, heedless of Wayne's question, says,"you know. I've been thinking about maybe staying here for a little longer."

And Wayne, his smile grows, and he claps a hand on his nephew's shoulder. "You're welcome here for as long as you want. Already consider it your home anyway."

[strangersteddierthings]

Good People

Part One🦇Part Two🦇Final Part

Wayne knows eavesdropping isn't the done thing. He's definitely old enough to know better, and he wasn't going to. He had a plan. He was going to walk directly into the living room, so they'd know he was awake, and after he'd fixed his cup of coffee, he'd plopped into his perfectly worn in recliner and subtly glare at the Harrington boy until he squirmed.

Mostly because it amused Wayne, but also just a little sliver of it was because he wanted the Harrington boy to know Wayne didn't think he was good enough for his boy. But only a little! Lord knows that Wayne couldn't do anything to make Eddie change his mind about Steve Harrington, short of Harrington proving Wayne right. Which he doesn't actually want because he doesn't want Eddie hurt.

He's just... He expects it to happen. That's what boys like Harrington do to boys like Eddie. He's seen it enough times to know that this song and dance leave no room for improvisation. Boys like Harrington play around, get their kicks with the devotion Eddie shows them, and then when they've had their fill, they leave.

Boys like Harrington will never be good enough for Eddie, but they always leave with Eddie feeling like he's not enough. Wayne hates it.

Anyway, his plan wasn't to eavesdrop. It's just that Harrington said his name and Wayne found himself standing still instead of continuing.

"Why doesn't Wayne like me?" Harrington asks.

"This again?" Eddie says dismissively, which has Wayne agreeing. His opinion shouldn't have bearing on their friendship.

A deep sigh from Harrington before, "I just. It's- he means so much to you. And, like, I- nevermind. It's stupid. I'm stupid."

"Hey," Eddie sounds a type of serious that Wayne rarely hears from him, "you're not stupid. And you gotta quit fucking saying that. You say it enough and you'll start to believe it and it's not true."

"Hard to quit feeling stupid when people dismiss my concerns like they are stupid," Harrington snaps back, bitchy as can be. The tone makes Wayne bristle on behalf of Eddie. His boy doesn't reply immediately, though. Doesn't bite back like Wayne's used to hearing. Huh. Maybe he's growing up, just a little.

"You're right, Steve," Eddie says when he finally speaks. "That was dismissive. I'm sorry. Explain it to me. Why does it matter to you whether Wayne likes you or not?"

"Well, because he's your family."

"Yeah," Eddie agrees, "he is. But that doesn't explain why it matters. I don't care if your parents like me or not."

"That's different!"

"How?" Eddie asks, soft but firm.

"Because their opinion doesn't matter. It's not- It's irrelevant. What they think."

"That makes no sense. Wayne's opinion matters because he's my family, but your parents' opinion doesn't even though they're your family?"

"Yes!"

"But why?" Eddie presses.

"Because they're bad people!" Steve bursts, not quite shouting but close. "Because when bad people don't think highly of you, it's not a fault in you. Their disproval is, like, a compliment. They don't like you because you're too different from them. And that's great! You shouldn't want their approval. It's different, because your uncle is a good person. And when a good person doesn't like you, it is your fault. It's something- it's..." Harrington loses steam here, voice dropping low and defeated, "there's something wrong with me. Something in me that- that he just knows. Senses about me or whatever. Something wrong or rotten or-"

"Steve! That's bullshit. Sure, Wayne's been standoffish, but he'll come around. You're not wrong, or rotten, or whatever else you think you are."

"How do you know that? I was an asshole most of life and what if that's just the real me? What if that's who I'll always be deep down. 'Cause I'm trying so damn hard, man. I'm giving it my all trying to be a better person and it's not enough! Everyone still talks about who I was in high school and even you-" Harrington snaps his mouth closed so hard that Wayne hears the clack of his teeth from his position in the hallway. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to- I'm sorry."

"Steve. This is about more than just my uncle's opinion of you, isn't it?"

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said anything."

"I want you, too. I want to know if I've ever done anything to make you feel like you aren't enough."

Wayne really shouldn't be listening. He should back down the hall and into his room. Give them time to talk.

"No, Eddie, you don't make me feel like- that's not what I meant. I just. I'm...."

"Hey, Stevie, you can tell me."

"I'm just so afraid that... That one day everyone will wake up and realize what Wayne already knows. That I'm not good enough for them. For you."

Oh. Wayne really shouldn't be listening.

"I'll admit that Wayne's opinion is important to me, for a lot of things. But not about you. What I feel about you, how I feel about you, isn't dictated by Wayne."

"Sure. I mean, I know that, like, logically or whatever. But it's. I can't convince my brain that you won't just. Hate me one day. And I- fuck, Eddie, I'm already halfway in love with you and-"

"You're in love with me?" Eddie interrupts, sounding awed, starstruck, and Wayne cannot be listening anymore. He backs down the hall silently and back into his room.

Steve Harrington seems to think that he's a good person, but he's not feeling like a good person at the moment.

He's got some thinking to do.

[sp0o0kylights]

Part One / Part Two (You are Here) / Part Three 

A03

Hopper had undersold Harrington's condition. 

Wayne hadn't expected anything pretty, but the face that turned to them as they walked through the door almost had him freezing in place. 

Black eye, bruised chin, split lip. 

More and more bruises, some faded and some very new, trailing down the kids neck. 

 The rest was hidden by his preppy little polo shirt, but Wayne didn't doubt that there were more.

Harrington tried to stand when they entered the room and the way he moved--entirely unbalanced, clearly in a lot of pain--made Wayne think the only thing the kid really needed was a hospital. 

Because Steve Harrington hadn't just been beaten. 

He'd been tortured--and very recently strangled. 

(Abruptly, Wayne realized that Hopper had implied the boy had been in the mall fire--just as much as he implied the mall fire was anything but. 

He also hadn't stated how Harrington had escaped the Suites trying to break into his house.) 

"Sit down." Hopper commanded, and Wayne expected Harrington to do anything but listen. 

Say something cocky, or act the part of a demanding little shit maybe, despite the condition he was in.

Instead the kid just sighed in relief and dropped like a stone, right back into the chair. 

Hopper came around his desk, talking all the while. "Steve, this is Wayne. Wayne, Steve."

"Hello Sir." Steve croaked politely. His voice was wrecked, no doubt from the necklace of finger shaped bruises around his neck.

"You're going to stay with him for a while, and you're gonna pay him for the privilege." Hopper informed him, as he began digging around his desk. "Money, chores, whatever Wayne wants." 

Wayne held his gaze as Steve turned to appraise him. 

Would Harrington pitch a fit? 

Would he look at Wayne's work clothes, streaked with dirt and sweat, with the name of the warehouse embroidered in the corner and crinkle up his nose, just like his daddy did? 

Hopper didn't lie, but a part of Wayne wanted to see just how different this Harrington was. If the respectful demeanor was an act done for Hopper. 

Or perhaps, Hopper had mentioned Steve's father for a reason, instead of his mother. Did he adopt her ice-like approach to life? 

Micro managing and long-held grudges were Stella Harrington’s game, and she excelled at it. 

Steve however, did nothing of the sort, instead settling with the situation in a way that reminded Wayne far too strongly of the men and women who'd come home from war.

"Okay." The kid said simply, after a long moment of consideration. He turned back to Hopper. "But we need to tell the rest of the Par--" 

Here he cut a look back to Wayne, correcting himself. "the kids. I don't want them showing up at my house trying to find me and freaking out." 

"They wouldn't--" Jim paused, fingers freezing from the rummaging they'd been doing. "they absolutely would, goddammit." He muttered darkly.  

"I'll tell the kids. The only thing I want you doing right now is laying low. I need to get a hold of Owens, but it's gonna take time to do that, and more time to fix this, so as of right now, Harrington? You're on vacation." He pointed sternly, as if Steve might argue.

The kid looked too tired and messed up to bother trying. 

"I mean it. You're out of the country, where is anybody's guess. No one's seen you and no one better be seeing you, got it?" His voice held firm, and Wayne had to blink because the tone here wasn't one of a police chief warning a teenager--but of a father talking to his son.

He knew, because his own voice did that now. Took on a worried tone that masqueraded as something more like annoyance and seriousness. 

"Yes, Sir." Harrington said, remaining weirdly compliant. "Consider me gone." 

A hand came up to briefly press above one eye, and Wayne wondered if the kid had been looked over, or if they had just crammed him into Hopper's office without offering so much as a tissue box. 

How many painkillers did they have back at the house? Wayne usually kept a good bottle around, but Steve was going to need more than that…

He found himself once again cataloging Steve's wounds, this time comparing them to the medicine cabinet he had at home. 

"I expect you to be a damn good house guest, you hear me?" Hopper continued, trying to cut a menacing figure. He finally found what he was looking for; pulling out a large, padded envelope. 

He handed it over to Harrington, who took it without looking, shoving it into the duffle bag he'd had sitting at his feet. 

There was a smudge of red on the handle of said bag, that matched perfectly up to a shittily done wrap on Steve's right hand. 

Wayne mentally added 'buy more bandages' to his list. 

Steve nodded at Hopper again. "Yes, Sir."

Jim’s eyes narrowed. "Quite that, you know I hate that." 

The briefest glimmer of mischief crossed Harrington's face. "Sorry, Sir. Won't happen again, Sir."

'Ahh.' Wayne thought. 'So there's a teenager in there after all.'

Jim rolled his eyes. "Get out of my office."

"Thanks Hop." Harrington said, finally dropping that odd obedience, a hint of a smile on his battered face. 

He stood, and Wayne had to stop himself from offering an arm out as Steve reached for his bag and limped towards him. 

He paused right before he left Hopper's office, hand on the doorframe.

 "You'll check up on Robin too, right?"  He asked, and for the first time his tone took on something more alive--and filled with worry. "And Dustin? Erica?" 

"Dustin and his mom are finally taking me up on my suggestion to see their family in Florida for a while, and the Sinclairs are taking a sabbatical from Hawkins. I'm working on the Buckley's." Hopper drummed his fingers on the desk. "So far, no one else besides you and El have been targeted, and we're going to keep it that way."

Steve let out a breath, and while Wayne could tell the worry hadn't left him, he could almost physically see Steve force himself to put it away.

Another act that was far beyond the kid's years. 

A different officer popped up as they walked down the hall towards the exit, waving his hand madly. "Harrington! Chief says you forgot this!" He barked.

(Or tried to anyway. Callahan wasn’t the most aggressive of officers and frankly, never would be.)

A slim sports bag was held in his hands, and Steve nearly tripped over his own feet when he tried to turn and claim it.

"I'll get it." Wayne said, knowing his tone sounded gruff.

No use for it. He could either sound gruff or sound sad, and Wayne knew better than to start off the relationship with yet another hurt young man by acting sad.

Pity wasn't gonna win him any favors here. 

He took the bag, slinging it over his shoulder, uncaring of the wince on Harrington's face until something sharp poked at his shoulder. 

Several somethings, in fact. 

"What the hell do you got in this thing?" He asked once they hit the parking lot, voice low as he escorted Steve to his truck. 

"Just a baseball bat, sir." Steve said, in the exact same tone Eddie used every time he thought he was bein’ slick. 

Considering the thing in the bag could have passed for a baseball bat if not for the sharp pokey bits, it wasn’t a bad attempt. Steve just hadn’t accounted for the fact that Wayne lived with Eddie. 

An unfair advantage, really. 

‘Least there can’t be any baby racoons in the damn bag.’ Wayne thought idly. 

Went on to gently put the bat in the backseat, watching as the kid struggled to lift himself into the truck.

"You can drop that, I take too being called Sir about as well as Hop does." He said, keeping his tone nice and calm, hoping to ease into calling Steve out on his lie. 

Fussed with a few dials on the stereo, giving Steve an excuse to take his time before starting the engine and taking the long way home.

Wayne wanted to talk a little-- without the chance of Ed’s interrupting. 

"Son,” He started off. “I was born in the morning, but not this morning. I'm hoping to make the next few weeks as easy as I can for both of us, and I can't do that if you're starting off with a lie." 

Steve blinked, turning to face him in a matter that was too fast for his injuries. He didn't bother hiding the hurt it caused him, but his voice stayed even as he spoke.

 "What do you mean Si--Wayne." 

"Nice catch.”  Wayne said. “We’ll get you there yet.” 

It was a trick he'd learned with Eddie--little tidbits of praise went a long way when it came to gaining trust.

Especially with kids who hadn't ever been given much. 

Harrington seemed smart to it, or perhaps was just hesitant to speak in general because he remained quiet, not offering up any info. No further lies, but nothing towards the truth, neither. 

Which was fine. Wayne didn’t think a little pushing would hurt.

"That bat of yours was digging into my shoulder like a bee swarm." Wayne continued, when it became clear Steve wasn't talking. "I'm more a fan of football than baseball, but last I checked they hadn't changed the design of a bat." 

"What teams?" Steve asked, perking up a touch. "Of football. Which ones are yours?"

Wayne could ignore it of course, or demand Steve give him an answer to the question he asked. 

He did neither. "I’m liking the Colts since they got moved here. You?" 

"Green Bay Packers, though I like the Colts too--that trade in 84’ was crazy." Steve said. After a second he proved that answering instead of pushing was the right move because he added; "What did Hopper tell you? About…" He trailed off, making a gesture Wayne didn't bother trying to interpret. 

"He said some things. I've guessed a few others." Wayne admitted. Cut a little look out of the corner of his eye as he came to a stop sign. "I know the feds are real interested in you after Starcourt." 

Steve took that in, hands tightening on the handle. 

"It really is a baseball bat." He said, a little fast and with the tiniest hint of that challenge Wayne had been looking for. "It just also has nails hammered into one end." 

Wayne took that in with one nice, slow blink. 

"A bat with nails in it." He said, and it made a hell of a lot of sense compared to the sensation he'd felt carrying the case. "You use it against anyone?" 

"Some of the feds." Steve admitted, and even with his eyes on the road Wayne could tell he was being stared at.

Judged.

Not in the way one expected a rich kid to judge, but in the way Eddie had, those first few months he'd lived here. The times when  he'd push, just a little, to see what Wayne's reaction would be. 

Eddie hadn't done it in a damn long time, but Wayne recognized the behavior nonetheless. 

"Anybody else?" He asked. 

"Nobody human." Steve replied. 

"Alright." Wayne said, and made a mental note to drop all questions related to that. 

He didn't need to know, definitely didn't want to know, and had a feeling if he did know he'd find himself being watched by the same spooks after Steve.

"I've got a few deck boxes that lock on my porch. Think you'd be agreeable to leaving the bat in one?" 

Steve paused, hand clenching tighter around the strap of his duffel bag. "If you gave me a key so I could get it in an emergency,  I'd be happy to." 

He tried to sound calm, even a little charming in that sort of upper-class businessman sort of way, but the fear bled through. 

The kid wasn't happy separating from the bat, and given it sounded like it might have saved his life recently, Wayne understood the hesitation. 

With an internal apology to Eddie, he promptly threw his nephew under the proverbial bus.  "I've got my nephew at home and he'd be far too interested in it, is all. Blades and weapons and such tend to attract him, and I don't need to be rushing anyone to the ER." 

All of which were very true facts (one Wayne learned the time he'd allowed Eddie to bring a sword  home, only for him to nearly cut his own nose off winging the thing around) but he figured it might make Steve more amenable to separating from it. 

Sure enough, some of the tenseness bled out of Steve's shoulders. "Yeah that's fair." 

The truck hit a few potholes as they finally turned into the trailer park, and the kid hissed, a quiet sound. 

Judging by the uncomfortable wince, and hands clenched into his jeans something painwise was giving him trouble. 

"When was the last time you took a pain pill?" Wayne asked, doing his best to weave around the other holes that dotted the gravel roads.

Steve blinked. "Uh…" 

"You take any today son?" 

Steve his head. 

"Didn't have time to grab it." He said, offering a sad look to his pack. 

Course he hadn't. 

"Let's get you inside then and get you some." Wayne said with a sigh. Thankfully Eddie's van wasn't here--Wayne was fairly certain he had band practice today but knowing him it could be a million other things.

Just meant he had to acclimate Steve as fast as he could, to try and get the poor guy settled before Ed’s came in. 

He just hoped life and lady luck would work with him, for once. 

[morganski-19]

part 1, part 2

Dustin visits the next day, sitting next to Wayne with the same book he’s had for the past few days. Turning to the page that was dog-eared, reading. Voices and all. Just like Eddie does when he’s practicing for one of those campaigns. Claiming that it’s better to get it down with someone else’s words so he can improvise. So he doesn’t have to memorize some script and can be in the moment. Let his mind do the workings along with the players. 

It’s one of the many parts of Eddie that Wayne sees in this kid. The dramatics, the drive. The snobbiness about certain things that don’t really matter to the rest of the world. But it matters to them, so it matters to the people who care about them too. 

If Eddie were awake, he might yell at the kid for turning the corner of a page instead of using a bookmark. Even though all the books he gets are second-hand and already torn and bent in all sorts of ways. But it’s about keeping the art pristine. The author put their heart and soul into this work, it’s not meant to be sullied. Wayne saw Eddie bend the corner of a page a million times over though, he just likes making a big stink about nothing. Just to get a rise out of people, make them laugh. Wayne can imagine that Eddie liked to make Dustin laugh a lot. 

“Have the doctors said anything new?” Dustin asks after finishing the chapter. 

Wayne shakes his head. “Same old, same old. Don’t worry about it too much though, he wouldn’t want you to.”

“He wouldn’t want a lot of the things that happened over the past week. So he’ll have to deal with it.” After a pause, he asks, “How are you doing?”

That makes Wayne laugh. “You don’t have to go worryin’ about me either. You’re just a kid.”

“And you’re just a man waiting for your kid to wake up. The same way I’m waiting for my friend to wake up. At the end of the day, we’re all still people. That sometimes need a break. So, how are you doing?”

It’s scary how much Wayne sees Eddie in this kid. “It’s hard comin’ here to hear the same thing every day.” That’s all Wayne’s willing to say to a kid. 

Hard is definitely a word most people would use to describe his situation. Difficult, disheartening. Maybe even hopeless. But there’s still some hope in this old heart that keeps Wayne coming back day in and day out. Keeps him moving while only getting a few hours of sleep a day. Cause as soon as the night comes around, it’s right back to the plant. Making the money to pay for the care his boy needs to keep living. To pay for the roof over his own head enough so he’ll live to see it happen. 

Truth is, Wayne’s dying here. From the fatigue. From the endless waiting. From the slowly draining pool of hope. Nothing seems to change. Nothing gets better. Six days in a medically induced coma with no hopes of ever waking up. Wayne’s not dumb enough to think that the chances increase the more days pass without him showing any signs of improvement. 

Part of him says that this is the state Eddie will be in for the rest of his life. Wonders if it’s worth all of this just to keep him alive. If he’s really suffering in there and would be better off resting forever. But then the heart monitor keeps beeping and his brain is still active. Wayne’s boy is still in there, he’ll come back soon. 

“Yeah, I bet that’s hard. I still have hope though, I was there when he came in. He looks a lot better now.”

There’s a knock on the door that keeps Wayne from responding. It’s the Harrington boy, in normal clothes this time. Discharged. 

“Sorry to interrupt but your mom said it’s time to go home.”

Dustin dramatically rolls his eyes. “Which one, my actual mother or you?”

“Your actual mother, but I happen to agree with her. Come on, you got school in the morning.” Harrington crosses his arms, looking like he’s ready to start a standoff. 

But instead of fighting Dustin stands. “Have a good night Mr. Munson. I’ll still try to visit as much as I can even though school’s starting back up again.”

“Thanks, kid, I’ll try.”

Harrington ruffles Dustin’s hair as he walks out the doorway. Standing there for a beat before turning back to Wayne. “We’ve never officially met, I’m Steve.”

Steve holds out his hand, waiting for Wayne to shake it. Wayne debates whether that’s a good idea or not. Apparently, it takes too long as Steve returns his hand to his side. 

“I wanted to apologize for the scene I made the other day, you didn’t deserve that. I was just so shocked that they actually cuffed him to the bed. Still have him cuffed to the bed.” Steve looks at Eddie with a guilt that Wayne doesn’t understand. Like he’s the reason Eddie’s strapped to the bed. 

Wayne continues to say nothing, not quite sure what would be appropriate. Tell him that it’s ok, that it didn’t bother him. Or thank him for believing that Wayne knew was true. That his boy was innocent. 

There was more to this story than he knew. Something to do with the kid being there and the rich boy standing in the doorway looking like this is all his fault. When Wayne knows the same scars mark Steve just as much as they do Eddie. Steve made sure that everyone knew that. Using it as proof that Steve was there, and that Eddie was innocent. 

Steve was ready to offer himself up as a witness for a man that the town hates. Wayne should be grateful for that, but it doesn’t seem right. They were part of different worlds. Different status, interests. It didn’t make sense for them to be in the same place at all. Yet here they are supposedly having gone through the same vicious attack. 

“Let me know if you need anything,” Steve continues when Wayne stays silent. “I’m more than happy to help out. Eddie was kind of a new friend and I hate seeing him like this as much as you do.”

“I seriously doubt that,” Wayne snaps. He hates charity, especially from this kid. For some reason he doesn’t really understand why. 

Steve is taken aback. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend.”

“I’m sure you didn’t, but you did. I know my boy and I know how my boy thinks about people like you. So don’t go ‘round gaining sympathy points from the real people who are suffering.”

“I, I wasn’t,” Steve stammers. “I would never.”

“Steve,” Dustin yells. “Get your ass moving, we’re your ride too.”

Steve sighs. “Coming, Jesus. I’m sorry for offending you. I won’t bother you again.”

Wayne shakes his head when Steve leaves, letting out a deep sigh. Maybe he was too harsh, maybe he wasn’t harsh enough. He’s not sure. 

He’s not sure about a lot of things anymore.

part 4

tag list, let me know if you want to be added or removed: @the-they-who-nerded, @insteviewetrust, @croatoan-like-its-hot, @jettestar, @tinyplanet95, @steddie-as-they-go, @slv-333, @littlecelestialmoth, @thatonebadideapanda, @fandomsanddeath, @marismorar, @wonderland-girl143-blog, @glass-bottle03, @gutterflower77, @here4thetrama, @goodolefashionedloverboi, @jaytriesstuff, @cryptid-system, @manda-panda-monium, @resident-gay-bitch, @anaibis, @xxsutherlandxx, @forevermineliv, @mugloversonly, @gregre369, @n0-1-important, @different-tale-student, @spectrum-spectre, @tartarusknight, @devondepresso, @swimmingbirdrunningrock, @cheertain, @anti-ozzie, @autumncrocusandladybug, @greeniebean911, @cr0w-culture, @stillfullofshit, @connected-dots, @daisynotquake, @morgannotlefay, @a-little-unsteddie, @dolphincliffs,

[transmunsons]

Wayne had met Al’s child a couple of times before the kid showed up on his doorstep. The odd Christmas or Easter gathering didn’t give him much of an idea of the kid’s personality since it was still a wee thing.

The young Munson here in front of him stood tall, maybe up to Wayne’s eyebrows, whip-thin and willowy. Big brown eyes stared out at him from a sallow face. The resemblance to Al was uncanny; it would’ve been even more so if not for the kid’s raggedy buzz cut.

She wanted to be called “Eddie”. Sorry, he wanted to be called “Eddie”. Sure, it was something to get used to, but it weren’t the strangest thing Wayne had run into over the years. He’d met some colorful folk during a brief stint in Chicago. He even had a bit of an idea how to help.

He helped Eddie get documents, sorted out school, and—after finding Eddie passed out in the bathroom—started sending letters. He got the contact of an endocrinologist in Indianapolis. Wayne could only afford a consult, gathered information. Enough to place a request with his dealer.

Rick didn’t ask questions. Probably assumed Wayne just wanted some extra virility. Wayne didn’t care what he thought.

200 milligrams every two weeks is what that doctor had said. Eddie’s voice dropped quick as a stone. He worried that he’d start to look just like his dad. Wayne told him he’d look like a Munson and Eddie looked at him real long before saying that might not be so bad.

[stevieschrodinger]

Wayne's been watching this shit show unfold for over a week now. Watching Steve Harrington stroke Eddie's hair back, hold his hand, call him 'sweetheart.'

Rush in with snacks and cups of ice chips and, sometimes, reading to Eddie. He's slow and trips over his words sometimes, but he isn't shy over that and definitely doesn't let it stop him.

He's so committed to the act that, honestly, Wayne would be fooled.

But he isn't fooled. He knows that Eddie's had a crush on that boy for literally years and absolutely nothing has ever come of it. Christ, Wayne once forked over real, cold hard cash, so that Eddie could get a year book one year just to have a picture of Steve. So Wayne knows exactly how bad Eddie had it.

Even if Steve Harrington, up to this point, had been a grade A Asshole.

But.

Wayne has to put a stop to this now. They were talking about discharging Eddie. Speaking practically. He's going to need space. He probably won't be making it up any steps any time soon. He's going to need a practical place to get discharged too, somewhere where there will be someone to keep an eye on him most of the time.

The place they are describing is very much not the trailer.

And Steve had immediately volunteered. No hesitation whatsoever with that boy. His dedication to the lie is...pretty mind-blowing.

So now, now is the moment Wayne has to interfere, because this is a step too far.

He hasn't spoken to Steve much yet, and he hasn't spent any time alone with the kid, but he ups and follows when Wayne nods his head to the doorway and asks for a word. They move off together, finding a quieter bit of hallway.

'Steve, look, this is too much-'

'No, it's fine, honestly, I've got a downstairs room Eddie can use, and the bathroom-'

'I know this whole thing is a lie.'

Steve visibly crumbles for a second before getting back into character, 'Mr. Munson-'

'Wayne-'

'Mr. Wayne Munson-'

Wayne shakes his head, 'Jesus Christ, /just/ Wayne kid.'

'Right, yeah, but Eddie can come and stay with me, it's fine, definitely not a lie-'

'I meant you being his boyfriend. That lie.'

The kid scrambles and Wayne genuinely doesn't know how anyone is falling for this, the kid wears every emotion and thought so openly, 'no,no, we were just keeping it quiet l, it's -'

'Son,' and Wayne hates to be stern about this but he really really needs to, 'I found scraps of paper with Edward Harrington scribbled on them, like Eddie was practicing his signature. I found them /four/ years ago. What is your plan here? What do you think is going to happen when you rip the plaster off? He's going to be devastated. Or worse, what if he remembers on his own and you've been lying to him? To everyone?'

'I-' Steve starts but then clearly has no where to go with that because, as Wayne is fully aware, there is no plan, 'I can't do anything about it if he remembers, just hope that he forgives me. But otherwise, I was just thinking the plaster could just...stay on. There's no reason to remove the plaster-'

'Kid, I hate to tell you this, but you've got a bit of a reputation. Eddie was in a foul mood for nearly a fortnight when you started going steady with that Nancy girl, honestly, he was going through the stages of grief-'

'And that's exactly why we're not going to tell him. Eddie deserves to be happy and I'm...not like that. Anymore.'

Wayne rubs the bridge of his nose, 'I don't even know where to start with this. You- He- I mean. This is such a bad idea.'

Steve nods, fully committed, 'I know. I'm doing it anyway.'

Wayne gives up.

[eyesofshinigami]

Take A Leap (Someone Will Catch You)

Rating: T

CW: None

Tags: Pre-relationship, Wayne POV, fluff, mentions of Eddie's bad parents, mentions of Steve's bad parents, Supportive Wayne Munson

Prompt: From @unclewaynemunson "Love is being terrified but not letting that stop you from taking a leap"

WC: 1742 (this one got away from me a little!)

Written for @steddielovemonth Day 3

Wayne knows his boy is a runner. It may not always look like his feet hitting the pavement, but it’s running just the same. Eddie runs away from his problems with a smirk and a joint, just as much as the sound of his tires squealing against the road. Wayne figures it’s why Eddie doesn’t try in school even though the boy is smart as a whip. It’s probably why he spends so much time noodling around on his guitar, or building the fantasy world that him and those kids get lost in for hours on end.

He doesn’t hold it against him, not one bit. Al Munson was the same, so was Lilah. Al ran from his responsibilities and ended himself up in prison, and Lilah ran away from the trouble Al brought her by curling up in the bottom of a whiskey bottle. It’s all they knew, all they’d been taught. That’s why Wayne didn’t bat an eye when Eddie ran away not long after he showed up on Wayne’s doorstep, small and angry and so full of hurt that Wayne thought he looked too much like an animal backed into a corner.

Wayne just had to show Eddie he wasn’t going to run. Eddie was his boy, the kid he never thought he’d had but he sure was glad he does now.

--

Wayne nearly fell out of his boots when he heard the story of what happened to Eddie, about how his boy stood up between the devil and his friends and he didn’t run. Not because he thought Eddie wasn’t capable of something like that, god knows the kid has heart too big for his chest, but Wayne’s still trying to wrap his head around the fact that it’s the Harrington kid telling him this story. The boy’s looking at Wayne with stars and pain in his eyes in equal parts as he tells Wayne exactly why Eddie’s lying in a hospital bed, looking like he was chewed up one side and down the other.

“Eddie’s the bravest guy I know, Mr. Munson. He didn’t deserve what happened to him, but don’t worry. Hopper and Dr Owens are going to take care of it all. You don’t have to worry about any of it.”

Harrington doesn’t look much better, the angry scar around his neck and the bandages wrapped around his torso where his scrub top creeps up. It makes Wayne angry, because as much as he’s not fond of Harrington Senior, there’s no reason this kid should look like this. Not to mention, his parents are notably absent and Harrington is just… hanging around in Eddie’s room.

It would make him wary, except he doesn’t miss the look in Harrington’s eye ever time he glances over at Eddie in the bed. There’s something there, but he can’t put his finger on it. It’ll come to him, he’s sure.

--

Eddie wakes up two days later, with Steve holding one hand and Wayne holding the other, and he looks like he’s confused. “Where the fuck am I?” he whispers, voice harsh and gritty.

“The hospital. I dragged your sorry ass out of the Upside Down. I told you not to be a hero, Munson,” Steve complains, but there’s no heat behind it. His fingers are curled around Eddie’s and Wayne can see the way the boy is shaking.

Eddie scoffs, but tucks his face into his shoulder. “Just taking a page out of your book, big boy. What can I say, I was inspired.”

Oh. Oh. Wayne knows that look. He’s seen Eddie lovesick before, even if his boy buried it under half-baked lyrics and hid it in those stories he writes. He doesn’t miss the way his cheeks pink and he bites his lip.

He’d almost worry, but he hasn’t missed the way Steve has sat by Eddie’s bedside, how he’s taken the time to talk Wayne through the mess of Hawkins and how Eddie got caught up in it. He’s seen the soft look on Steve’s face, the way his thumb traced over the skin of Eddie’s fingers as he held his hand tight.

“You’re an idiot.” Steve sounds so fond, it makes Wayne smile. He sees the moment their eyes meet, can practically see the hearts twirling around their heads like some kind of Looney Tunes cartoon.

But, he knows his boy. It’s why he’s not surprised when Eddie pulls back, starts to tuck into himself like a pill bug. He knows this look too, the one right before Eddie’s sprinting in the other direction. Steve must know it too, judging by the way his face falls and he starts to frown as he gets to his feet.

“I’m glad you’re awake, Eddie. I’m going to go check on Max, give you two some time to catch up.”  And with that, Steve’s out the door and Wayne sees the way Eddie’s face twists into something like a frown, like he’s in pain.

Wayne gives him all of one minute before he says, “Boy, I thought you were smarter than that.”

Eddie jolts. “What?”

Wayne lets out a sigh. “You heard me, boy. You’re gonna tell me that you stood between the devil and your friends and now you’re gonna lose that spine?” It’s none of his business, he’s sure, but Wayne sees it. He’s talked with Steve enough to know that some kind of seed between them has been planted, and he’s not going to let Eddie yank it up by the roots because of whatever idea he’s got in his head. It’s some kind of Munson curse, thinking that they don’t deserve the things they have so they find a way to run away from it. Eddie’s better than most, but Wayne’s not having it.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Eddie grumps, but the red in his cheeks gives him away. They stare at each other for a long moment until Eddie deflates. “It’s not like that, Wayne. He’s… not like that.” Not like me. “It could be something good, what we have. I don’t want to fuck it up by making it into something it’s not.”

Maybe, maybe not, but Wayne’s no fool. He’s seen the way Steve looks at Eddie, the tender way he touched him while he slept. The way that Steve slept hunched over Eddie’s bedside like some kind of sentinel, only leaving when Wayne told him to take a breather. Wayne’s never been a gambling man, but he’d put good money down on the fact that it appears mighty close to being like that.

“Boy, let me tell you something. Love is scary. Love is being so goddamn terrified but not letting that stop you from loving someone enough to take a leap. You love that racket you listen to even though no one else does. You love that game and those kids you play with even when you know it can make the roof crash down on your head. And it did.” Wayne pauses to give him a look. He wouldn’t push if he thought he was wrong. But he’s loved this kid since he showed on his doorstep, full of piss and vinegar, and he was terrified that he was going to fuck him up more than his daddy did because Wayne didn’t know anything about raising a kid. “And I’m telling you, I’d bet my last dollar bill that Harrington feels the same way you do right now, scared he was going to lose you and scared you don’t feel the way he does.” Steve had said as much, in not so many words, when he thought Wayne was sleeping one night. “You didn’t run from hell, kid. Don’t run from this either.”

He watches Eddie stare at him in shock. He almost feels like he needs to make sure he was speaking English, or whatever happened to Eddie hadn’t affected his brain at all. “He said that?” is what Eddie manages to say.

Wayne rolls his eyes. “He’s been here since before I got here. He hasn’t left your side but maybe a couple of times to go check on that Max girl from next door. If it ain’t love, kid, I don’t know what it is.”

Eddie looks like he wants to argue, but he chews on his lip instead. Good. Give the kid something to think about. “And if you’re worried about what I’m gonna think because you’re both boys, you can stop right here. Doesn’t matter to me what pieces and parts you have, as long as you’re good to each other.”

Eddie’s eyes fill with tears and he reaches up to pull his hair over his face, the way he’s done since he was eleven years old and overwhelmed with what Wayne tried to offer him. “Thanks, Wayne. I’ll… I’ll think about it.”

“See that you do. Now, tell me all about this guitar solo of yours. Steve couldn’t shut up about it.”

--

Wayne had stepped out for a smoke, taking a moment outside to breathe so he stopped feeling so trapped by the white walls of his boy’s hospital room. It’s a nice evening, the moon shining full. Steve had stopped by with some sort of casserole, courtesy of Dustin’s mama, and Eddie had squawked in pleasure and made grabby hands at the dish. Wayne took that as his cue to step out.

He crushes the butt beneath his boot and tucks it back into his pack of cigarettes. He lets out a sigh and starts heading back up the stairs towards Eddie’s room.

It’s quiet when he opens the door, starting when he realizes what he’s seeing. Both boys are fast asleep, curled around each other as much as they can with Eddie’s wires and cords still attached to his hand. Eddie’s tucked into Steve’s chest and Steve’s hair is wrapped tight into Eddie’s curls, still tucked between Eddie and the door like he’s a barrier so the world can’t get him. Their lips are both a bit pink and swollen, and Wayne would be a right fool if he couldn’t put two and two together. It makes him smile, knowing he was right. All they needed to do was take that leap.

He closes the door with a quiet click. He can come back in the morning. Steve’s got Eddie, and Eddie’s got Steve. And he hopes it’s for a long, long time.

[redlegumes]

Dec 8th: Dead Give Away, Innit?

Written for @steddieholidaydrabbles

prompt: Idiots to Lovers | AO3: link | wc: 861 | rating: G | cw: none | tags: Wayne POV, first kiss, oblivious

Summary: Wayne is tired of Steve and Eddie, beating around the bush. It's obvious that when their 'kids' ask them to host a holiday party together they're ready for these two to get together too.

❆˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗❆

Wayne ducked his head out of the kitchen to see Eddie struggling, arms full ,trying to get through their small home’s door. He was about to help when he saw a familiar tan hand and scarred wrist help his nephew. Steve Harrington, back again.

Wayne waited a beat and then headed out after them. Eavesdropping was something he rarely did around Eddie, the boy deserved his privacy, but… he was curious what the two were up to this time. He hung back a little, listening to the young men while standing just inside the front door.

continues after the cut

He didn’t quite hear what Eddie said but he caught Steve’s reply.

“No, this time Max called.”

“What?”

“Yeah, she wanted to make sure we weren’t just ‘throwing it together’ last minute.”

“What a little ingrate,” Eddie exclaimed.

Wayne cracked the door open and watched as Steve leaned in toward Eddie, startling him into a low chuckle. “You love her.”

“You… no, you ‘Mama’ Harrington,” Eddie said, poking Steve in the chest, inches away from his face now. “You know, that’s what they call you.”

Wayne held his breath. Is this it?

Steve stepped back. “I guess I’ve got a reputation to uphold. So you better be bringing your ‘a’ game Eddie.”

“Sports ref-”

Wayne exhaled and stepped outside into the chill, Indiana winter air. Idiots. “-what’s all this now boys?”

Steve waved, and Eddie grinned before picking his gear back up. “The kids insisted we host a holiday party for them,” he huffed, loading an amp and his guitar into the back of the van.

“Yeah, very specific that we head it up,” Steve added, grimacing. “I don’t know why. I mean I’ve thrown some parties but-”

“Oh, really Stevie?”

Wayne folded his arms over his chest as he watched his boy hip check the always well groomed Harrington, slightly throwing him off balance. He also watched as the blush covered the young man’s face, and groaned lightly. The two had been fawning over each other, teasing, and then pulling back every time it looked like they might be finally getting somewhere. It’d been like that since April, and Wayne had just about had his fill.

Steve had already won him over. Harrington wasn’t given a free pass just for saving his nephew’s life, but in the following months he’d proven to be no fair weather friend to the Munsons. He shepherded those kids Eddie cared about too back and forth to physical therapy and just about anywhere else they begged him to. Steve would put on a show, all put upon, but Wayne saw the protective glint in his eye and the smile he hid every time he was ‘pressed’ to help them out. Steve was good people. But tripping over his tongue in front of Eddie was getting a little old.

Wayne suspected their extended friend group felt the same way if Steve and Eddie had been pushed to plan a holiday celebration together.

“The ‘Hair’ and his masterful party skills squandered on a lil event for a group of sophomores,” Eddie wheedled.

“Hey,” Steve protested. “And us, and Robin, she’s bringing Vickie. Jonathan and Nancy will be back in town, your DnD guys-”

“-my bandmates-”

“-both.” Steve tugged on one of Eddie’s curls. “It’s not just the kids.”

Wayne shifted his weight, fighting the urge to light up a cigarette. This has gone on long enough. “So, it sounds like you two are planning. Are the other older teens bringing anything to help out? You know, the couples other than you two. Decorations? Food?”

Steve blinked slowly. “Um, Everyone is bringing white elephant gifts. I recommended they bring snacks and drinks, but I don’t expect anyone to so I make sure to have plenty.”

“Who all is dating who now,” Wayne asked as casually as possible. If these two knuckleheads are going to keep being dense I might as well act oblivious. “I know the redhead is with Sinclair. But I never seem to know who Hopper’s kid is or isn’t seeing. And your Robin is seeing the Carmichael girl.” Steve was mouthing words without sound. Eddie had frozen where he stood. “But I suppose they wanted you two to host since you're the ones who have been together the longest and are still in town.”

Eddie’s face steadily turned bright scarlet. “What would, Wayne, what… Steve and me?”

“Aw, don’t worry none boy.” Eddie’s jaw dropped. “What,” Wayne chuckled, “was it supposed to be a secret? Jeez, you both doing this holiday get together is a bit of a dead give away innit?”

Steve’s voice was barely above a whisper. “Dustin, it was Dustin’s suggestion, and then everyone said we should…”

“Hmmm?” Wayne chose not to catch what he was saying. “Well, my two cents, if you care, is don’t get too worried about making it all perfect. Make sure you both have a good time too.” Wayne turned back to the house to hide his smile. “And don’t forget the mistletoe.”

…

Wayne parted the blinds a few minutes later to catch a quick glimpse of Steve and Eddie wrapped up in each other, kissing as flurries began to fall.

Finally.

2023 RedLegumes Steddiemas 1 2 3 4 5 6 10 SteddieHolidayDrabbles 1 2 3 4 6 8 9 10

[pearlypairings]

It's a Christmas miracle!

Just posted a new hellcheer ficlet told from a very special pov...Uncle Wayne <3

special thanks to @erythromanc3r & @1lostsoul0fishbowl for the inspo and help with creating this fic!

[medusapelagia]

An imaginary friend

Ok... what was supposed to be a small drabble became a 3k words fic from Wayne POV.

AO3 link

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Stranger Things (TV 2016) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: mention of underage Relationships: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson Characters: Steve Harrington, Wayne Munson, Eddie Munson Additional Tags: mention of underage, Steve Harrington Has Bad Parents, Childhood Friends, Wayne POV

Wayne shouldn’t be surprised that Eddie has some imaginary friends. He is eleven years old, fresh out from foster care and he is living with an uncle that he has never seen before in a trailer in the suburbs of a small town in Indiana. He doesn’t go to school, they are still waiting for the papers, so he has a lot of time to wander in the woods and play with his friends. A few days ago he was a wizard, searching for the philosopher's stone, the week before he was searching for some magical mushrooms that would have made him bigger and stronger. They are just innocent games that he plays while Wayne sleeps a few hours after a shift. What is strange is that in the last few days, Eddie keeps talking about the same imaginary friend: Steve. He is a boy a little younger than him. He has nice clothes but they are always broken or dirty, and he speaks only with Eddie. It’s a very specific description for an imaginary friend, or maybe it’s normal for a kid with such imagination as Eddie, Wayne wouldn’t know, he never had to deal with kids before.

[strangersteddierthings]

Sequel to Good People - The fic in wherein Wayne doesn't like Steve and overheard a conversation he shouldn't have. Here's the aftermath of that :3

Part One🦇Part Two🦇Final Part

-

Wayne had stayed in his bedroom long after he heard the boys leave. Eddie had knocked on his door to let him know he'd be staying at Steve's and to not expect him back until late tomorrow, a courtesy he'd never shown until after he'd been the victim of a manhunt back in spring. Wayne never asked him to do that but he thinks Eddie picked up on how worried Wayne would get if he were gone for any amount of time.

Eddie's always been good at reading people when he bothers to pay attention to them. Maybe that should have been enough reason for him to give pause to his dislike of the Harrington boy, instead of needing to overhear the boy crying about how he thinks there's something rotten deep within him that only Wayne can sense.

He'd been so sure he knew what kind of person Steve Harrington was. Eddie had been hung up on boys just like him pert-near his whole life, Wayne thinks, and it's never ended differently.

It's a Tuesday night and his friends usually gather at the bar on Friday nights, but Wayne needs to get out of the trailer to think. A beer might help. So, he grabs his keys and heads out.

He's been a regular at this bar since before he was even old enough to drink. Used to come with his pa, may he rest in peace, just to get out of the house. He's been a patron longer than any of the staff have worked there, he realizes.

"Hello Linda," Wayne greets as he takes a seat at the bar instead of at his usual table. He'd done a cursory glace when he came in and confirmed none of his drinking buddies were in before choosing the bar.

"This isn't your usual day," Linda says, leaning a hip on the counter, "but it's always a pleasure to see you."

"I got some thinkin' to do," Wayne replies and Linda nods and moves away, returning soon with a bottle of his usual beer. She picks up the bottle open and removes the cap before setting the drink down in front of him.

"Need a sounding board, hun?" She asks.

Wayne does a quick survey of the bar again but it's pretty quiet so he returns his gave to Linda and says, "if you wouldn't mind too much hearin' about how an old man might have messed up."

Linda laughs. "You aren't even half a decade older than me, so you best not be sprouting that 'old man' nonsense around me, 'cause I am not some old lady."

"Terribly sorry, Linda. I'm just really feelin' like an old fool."

A small frown comes to Linda's face then. "Now what could you have possibly done?"

"Well, I guess I'm tryin' to figure out if I did mess up. Eddie's got a friend and I don't trust 'im. Thought I had good reason not to, but, well, I overheard somethin' I wasn't supposed ta and now I'm not sure."

Linda hums, "hmm, that doesn't sound like you, judging someone unrightly. You are usually a good read about people."

"I'll admit, I haven't bothered to spend enough time with the boy to, uhh, judge him."

"Wayne Munson," Linda scolds, "you best not be telling me you judged that boy because of other people."

Judging by Linda's raising brow line, he thinks his guilt must be clear on his face. "You know Eddie, and how people have treated him. And with what he just went through- I just want 'im safe. Sure, his new friend graduated last year, but he was on the basketball team his whole career. And I'm jus' supposed ta believe this one boy didn't side with the group who started the manhunt?"

"Unless you've got evidence otherwise, yes," Linda says, brows furrowed.

Wayne sighs. "I ain't got proof. I got a lot of people sayin' he's good, actually. But it's the Harrington boy. The same boy Eddie would come home and complain 'bout. Harrington, Hagan, Hargrove, though I shouldn't speak ill of the dead. All them boys treatin' Eddie like he wasn't worth nothin' until they wanted somethin' form him."

Linda's mouth is almost a perfectly straight line with how much she's pursed her lips the more he talks, but she doesn't interrupt and no customer calls for her, so he continues.

"And you know what Richard Harrington was like. I know y'all only shared one school year together, but Janice wasn't any better, and she was your year, wasn't she?" Linda gives him one nod in response. "That boy's a product of them. I- You can't fault me for thinkin' differently."

"So, when do you expect Eddie to end up in prison?"

The question throws Wayne and fills him with anger at the same time. "Now, Linda, I ain't likin' what you are implyin'."

"I ain't implyin' nothing," she says, using the same tone with him that he did with her. "I'm applying your logic. Eddie's a product of his parents, ain't he? Al's in prison, and his mama's long gone, bless her soul. And since Eddie ain't sick, last I heard, he must be following after his daddy."

The anger leaves him then, and all he's left with is shame. "Point made. And if I'm bein' fully honest with ya, I don't even need ya to defend that boy. That thing I overheard. That what's eatin' at me. He called me good people."

Linda softens, shoulders dropping, "you are good people, hun."

"That boy told my Eddie that I'm 'good people', and that his parents are bad ones, and I. I don't know what to do about that."

"He thinks his own parents are bad?"

Wayne nods, "is what he said. Thinks I can somehow sense he's also rotten just by association."

"There's nothing to it, then," Linda says, like they've already talked out the tangled mess that is Wayne's thoughts on Steve Harrington and have reached a conclusion. Well, perhaps Linda already has. She's always been bright, and she's usually right. "You, Wayne Robert Munson, need to apologize to that boy. The guilt and shame's gonna put you into your cups otherwise."

Wayne nods slowly, though he isn't even sure if he agrees or is just acknowledging what she said before he takes a long pull from his bottle before lowering both his arms to rest on the counter as he replies, "You're right as usual, Linda my dear. I just gotta let go of the fact he's Richard Harrington's son and try and see just Steve."

"Damn right. Eddie might be Al's by birth, but you raised him and he turned out alright. Maybe Steve got the same treatment. Had his own Wayne around to raise him right."

There might be a bit of truth to that. He's heard enough talk about Steve Harrington over the years to think that. One of his drinking buddies used to be Jim Hopper. He's heard about the amount of parties he'd had to go shut down at the Harrington's house, with no parents to be seen. (Always Jim's biggest gripe back then. "Where's this kids goddamn parents!?) Wayne always assumed their kid just took advantage every time his parents were gone, but maybe it's the opposite. Maybe they were always gone, and Steve had parties to not be alone in his house.

Linda's right. There is nothing to it. He needs to talk to Steve, properly apologize, and go from there.

"It ain't an easy thing, admittin' you might be wrong," Wayne sighs.

Linda reaches across the counter and places a hand on Wayne's arm just below his wrist. Wayne looks up from where he'd ended up staring at his bottle, making eye contact with her. "If your boy is friends with this boy, it's for a reason. Just give him a chance. You are one of the good ones, but even we can have a lapse in judgment now and then. Doesn't make you bad, makes you human."

"Ain't no one perfect but the good Lord," Wayne says and Linda nods in agreement.

"Alright. I'll leave you to your beer and your thoughts for now, but you best keep me updated on your situation. I wanna know how it goes," Linda retracts her hand and heads down the counter to check on the few other people sitting about nursing drinks.

Wayne sits in his thoughts more than he drinks, so by the time he's done with the beer it's warm but that's fine. He will talk to the Harrington kid, but he wants to talk to Eddie first. He owes his nephew that much, and he does recall Eddie saying something to the effect of 'he'll come around' to Steve, and Wayne wants to tell Eddie he'll try.

Also he doesn't want to just corner the boy after he's been somewhat intimidating intentionally. He's going to get Eddie to ask if Steve'll talk to him.

True to his word, Eddie returns home late the next day. The clock says it's almost 6 when Eddie finally comes through the front door. If he's surprised to see Wayne awake, he doesn't show it. He does work the graveyard shift, and he's got a shift at 10 tonight, usually wakes up two hours before his shift. He'd wanted to make sure he caught Eddie, though, so he's been up since three.

"Eddie, you got a minute?" Wayne says.

"Sure. What's up?" Eddie says as he pulls off his jacket, depositing it on the nearest surface before plopping sideways on the couch so he's facing Wayne.

"I gotta come clean. I overheard some of what you and Steve were talkin' about," Wayne says, because he's a man of his word and he's always been good at doing the hard thing if it also turns out to be the right thing. He's got to be honest with Eddie, so he can be honest with himself. "Heard Harr- Steve talkin' 'bout how he thinks I'm a good person, and his parents aren't."

Eddie's quiet for a moment, blinking owlishly back at him while he thinks. "Oh. Umm. Sorry. I just- I think this is the first time I've heard you say Steve's name."

"Not the part I thought you'd focus on," Wayne huffs a laugh, "but I owe your boy an apology and I was hopin' you could help me make it happen."

"My boy- what is happening," Eddie drops his voice to whisper the question to himself.

"What's happening is I'm doin' the thing I always told you ta do. Taking accountability and fixin' my mistake."

"Oh. Oh!" Eddie narrows his eyes at Wayne, "you've made an ass out of me. All those times I assured Steve you were just being standoffish and you were- what were you doing?"

"Intentionally keepin' the boy at a distance 'cause I thought he was gonna hurt you. I sure as hell ain't been friendly. I been judging him because I knew his parents, thinkin' about how an apple don't fall far from the tree," Wayne stops, giving pause to see if Eddie will speak but he isn't. He's just staring at Wayne like he's a puzzle. "It was brought to my attention that it's mighty unfair to judge someone 'cause of how their parents act."

Eddie's brow furrows and his lips purse. It makes him think of Linda. She'd made the exact same face. "I- Jesus fuck this is weird, but I. I think I'm mad at you. Disappointed."

Eddie doesn't say it with an angry tone, and his face still looks more puzzled than mad, but the sentence feels like a kick to the chest anyway. Eddie and he have never been mad at each other, not in the eight years Eddie's lived here with him. They've been worried and scared for each other that, or mad at someone or something else that they take out on each other, but never mad at each other.

"You've every right to be."

Eddie stands from the couch, paces down the hallway, and Wayne thinks this might be the end of any conversation tonight, but instead Eddie comes storming back up the hall. "So, what, did you take me in expecting me to be my dad!?"

"No. He mighta contributed to your birth, but we both know that man ain't nurtured you a day in his life."

"Yeah, well, Steve's parents didn't raise him either, so all this has been bullshit! You made Steve think he's, he's broken and a bad person! And," Eddie's eyes are wet and he's angry but also about to cry. Wayne hasn't seen him like this in a long time. Not since the day they learned Al was in prison, fifteen years with a chance for parole if he's on his best behavior. Eddie had been so angry, and sad, and hurt by the news. Eddie's like that now, worked up so much he's repeating himself as he hiccups his words out around the lump in this throat, "And, and you made me help him feel that way! Because I didn't take him serious when he said, said you didn't like him! I thought you were being, being a dad, all fake gruff to intimidate the guy I like but it's- you were- FUCK!"

Wayne lets him yell. He deserves it, and Eddie needs it. Eddie's not saying anything untrue. He takes in what Eddie is yelling at him; Steve's parents didn't raise him, and how Wayne's cold shoulder must have added to whatever else Steve has going on in his life.

"I, I h-held him while he b-bawled into my shirt last night! He, he thinks- and you, you didn't even trust me! T-trust my own j-judgment of, of Steve! I, I need- I can't-" Eddie doesn't finish the sentence. He turns on his heel and storms back down the hall, the slamming of his door finalizing this conversation.

To say that Wayne feels terrible is inadequate. He's hurt his boy, and he's hurt his boy's boy, and he's got no one to blame but himself.

Now he's got two apologies to make.

I tried to tag as many people as I could remember that expressed interest in a follow up fic. I am SO sorry if I missed you. Please let me know if you want to be tagged in the final part. I will only be tagging people who ask to be tagged going forward 'cause it's a lot of people to remember and my memory is garbage.

@i-less-than-three-you @nburkhardt @afewproblems @skepsiss @unclewaynemunson @itsthestrangestthings @emofratboy @devondespresso @finntheehumaneater @loopholesinmydreams @yourmom-isgay @wrenisflying @emsgoodthinkin @messrs-weasley @madigoround @jackiemonroe5512 @gutterflower77 @zerokrox-blog @eriquin @samyuck @lunarmaruna @mugloversonly @kaij-basil-lionelli88

[hellcheerficdatabase]

The other shoe

Author: F0xface3

Rating/Warning: General

Chapter Count: 3/3

Description: Chrissy meets Wayne for the first time.

Tags: Alternate Universe- canon divergence, first meeting, angst, v angst, Wayne is PROTECTIVE, he said fuck around and find out, Chrissy POV, Wayne POV, multiple chapters, Status: completed

[sp0o0kylights]

Wayne takes in a Beat to Shit Steve Harrington after Starcourt as n Owed Favor to Hopper Part 4

Part Three: link

First Chapter (parts 1-3 on tumblr) on A03: Link

The kid was madder than a wet hen.

Just as slippery as one too, when he got like this--music pulsing like a living thing to signal all his rage and upset. 

Not like Wayne hadn’t expected it. 

He just wished it wasn’t quite so damn loud. 

The music had started up almost immediately after Eddie had stormed to his room, startling Steve awake and nearly making Wayne curse for it.

Normally it was a good thing--music meant Eds was willing to listen instead of heading for the hills.  

Normally, they didn't have a house guest who looked like he'd gone ten rounds with a bear.

They had a routine for this, was the thing and the music was a key part of it. It worked all the edges off for Wayne, and he'd long figured out that about thirty minutes was a the perfect length of time for Eddie to stew before he could actually talk things through.

Given the hand Harrington put to his forehead, Wayne wasn't eager to give him that thirty minutes.

Not when Steve deserved little peace he could have.

Unfortunately, so did Eds. 

Still.

 Strutting through the door and demanding to talk right now was a bad move and so, with a sympathetic look given to Steve, Wayne did what he did best

Gave space.

Let Eddie rage, as Wayne got up and shuffled about the kitchen.

Pulled out the soft earplugs he pretended weren’t there for Eds to steal (playing that damn loud guitar all the time could not be good for his ears) and offered them to Steve, before making two cups of what Wayne privately thought was the Munson “chitchat” drink. 

One cup of hot water, one packet swiss miss, a small amount of maple syrup drizzled in, topped with little marshmallows they reserved for these types of situations. 

Wayne took his time with it, thinking through what he wanted to say. 

‘I understand that this is a screen door on a submarine kind of situation...’ 

Nope. 

‘Son I know you hate listening to anyone for anything but this is serious...’ 

Absolutely not--that would end up with the boy bolting for sure. 

‘Ed’s, I love you but could we please turn Ozzy off while we talk? That man wails louder than any damn cat I have ever met.’

That one was purely self indulgent, mostly because the wall was starting to shake. 

Wayne put the finishing touches on the cocoa before staring at both of them. 

Perhaps if he stared the Garfield mug in its eyes hard enough, the right words would come through. 

They did not.

He kept trying, standing there long enough for the cocoa to reasonably have cooled and for Eddie’s song to flip over to something with more screaming in it than singing. 

Wayne supposed that this was the hardest part of being a parent. You just didn’t get to have the magical one liner. The right thing to say at just the right time.  

The joke that would ease all the tension and let things progress forward nice and easy.

Instead, you got to fumble your way through the dark with a flashlight up your ass and hope you were going in the right-ish direction. Ideally without making things worse. 

Wayne was here though, and that had to count for something. 

(Knew it counted for something--because Eddie was still here. 

They had cleared hurdles far higher than this when it came to trust. They’d get through this too, come what may. 

Steve too.)

“Can I just ask,” Eddie started, aggressive as always when Wayne finally gave in and entered his room, feeling all sorts of awful for the migraine Steve had to have, “what the absolute fuck is happening?” 

Sure as fire he was sitting on his bed, leg bouncing a mile a minute.

An unlit cigarette hung between two fingers, looking a little chewed on, but otherwise undisturbed--as it should be, because one of Wayne’s few rules was that smoke stayed outside the house. 

“You could.” Wayne said loudly but agreeably, as he turned himself around and dropped down next to his kid.  

Held out the Garfield mug, and was happy when it was taken from him. 

“Figured you might have other things to say, though.” 

Likely a lot of things. 

It was as good an opening as any, and his kid didn’t disappoint, launching right to it. 

“Why is he here and not at a hospital?”

 ‘Here’ was punctuated by Ed’s hand winging towards the door, and while it wasn’t the righteous fury Wayne expected, it was at least, an easy answer to give. 

“Steve has some people looking for him. Bad people. Hospital makes him an easy target.” 

Wayne was still talking loud. Could only hear Eddie himself because he was looking at the kid’s lips more than he was actually hearing his voice. 

Eddie took that in, swallowing it about as well as he’d swallowed anything he hadn’t liked. 

And thank the stars above, he finally reached a hand out and turned the music down. Not a lot--Steve wouldn’t be able to hear them over all this--but enough that Wayne didn’t have to struggle. 

“We’re hiding him from the cops now?!” Ed’s spat. 

“Cops know he’s here. Hopper’s the one who asked me to take him.” Wayne reminded him, because it was the truth. 

Not the full truth, but given how Ed’s pissed off half the local PD on a good day, Wayne absolutely did not want to see his nephew take on Federal Agents.

(Particularly not the kind who were going ‘round killing kids.) 

“So--what?” Eddie yanked hard on his hair, a gesture that looked less intentional and more like he was trying to fight his own anger down. “Hopper just called you up and said ‘Hey, we had a whoopsie with the rich kid, the hospital’s not safe anymore. Can we stash him with you for a few days?” 

Wayne nodded once, slow-like. 

Always remembered how too fast movements had made Eddie flinch and jerk back when was littler, and given the way Steve was looking, figured it was a good time to be cautious again. 

“He did.”

“And you just--agreed? Just like that!?” 

“I did.” 

He pretended not to see Eddie boggle at him at the simple admission, so furious that he seemed to struggle for words when he normally had too many to say. 

Wayne took advantage. 

“We did talk a bit more than that, I’ll admit.”

Ed’s scoffed. “About the weather I’m sure.” 

“‘Bout trust.” 

Eddie blinked at that. 

“Trust.” He echoed flatly. 

“What have I always told you? People like to ask you to trust them, but you they don’t get to have it until--” 

“They provide proof or a reason.” Eddie finished with an eyeroll. “So which did Hopper provide then?”

Wayne took a noisy sip of his coca. Smacked his lips a little before saying: “Both.” 

Didn’t bother to say anything else, because he knew Eddie would finish the thought for him. 

“One of them was me, wasn’t it.” 

Eds didn’t say it like a question, but Wayne hummed in agreement anyway. 

He wasn’t gonna shame his boy, but he wasn’t gonna sugar coat Eddie’s involvement in this either. Not when he’d already admitted that was half the reason Hopper had gone to Wayne to begin with. 

“No one is expecting Steve to be here.” He said, seeing the chance to hammer home the most important part of this entire shitshow. “So long as no one finds out he’s here, he’ll be safe. Everyone will be safe.” 

Steve from the Feds who were hunting him for while he was busy being involved in shit he couldn’t control and Eddie because he had a mouth that most people didn’t like. 

Not small town people anyway, and absolutely not authority figures with guns. 

“Who’s even after him?” Eddie was theatrical as always, hands waving away as he talked. “Did he make a deal with the mob? Piss off some other rich guy? I know it’s not anything drug related, I’d have heard about it by now.” 

After years of experience, Wayne knew exactly how far to lean away to stay out of range, too used to his nephew talking with his entire body.

“That’s his story to tell ya, Ed’s. It ain’t mine. Same way it ain’t my place to tell him your story.” 

That at least got the boy to think for a minute. Put down that frustration he carried with him all the time, and use the brain they both knew he had. 

“How long is he staying here?”

Wayne shrugged. “Don’t know.” 

Eddie sighed and mockingly mimicked Wayne, taking an obnoxious slurp of his cocoa. “The neighbors are going to notice if he’s here more than a few days. The trailer park isn’t exactly big.” 

“They didn’t notice that time you decided to make fireballs with the cooking spray and about blew up half the driveway. Don’t think they’re gonna notice someone being quiet in the house.” 

Eddie snorted, and probably rolled his eyes again, not that Wayne could see it given the kid was looking into his own mug as he thought it all through. 

Wayne sat with him as he processed. 

Eds worked at his own pace with things, and while life at large might be against that, Wayne was happy to let him do it. Found it easier that way, then trying to poke and prod and force him like so many father figures did. 

Wayne’s patience was rewarded not even a full minute later, when Eddie turned to him and asked; 

“What if he finds out?”  

This in a quieter voice. An unsure one--words and body hunching in a way unlike the Eddie the world outside knew, but very much like the little boy Wayne had brought inside his home. 

It took Wayne  a moment to connect the dots--he’d been speaking out of the place parents and authority figures often do, and in doing so hadn’t thought much of the fact his nephew had a real secret. 

The kind small town minds didn’t like--and would kill him over. 

This all wasn’t about Wayne taking in Steve, he realized abruptly.  It was that Steve being here meant Eddie couldn’t be himself. 

Could not relax in a place he was accepted for who he was, because Wayne knew and made sure Eddie understood he was wanted here, had a place here, regardless of who he loved. 

Now, Wayne had gone and removed it.

‘Shit.’ 

“He won’t.” Wayne said. 

Knew that wasn’t enough, and so, promised: “But if he does, I’ll make sure he understands his safety here relies on your own.” 

Ed’s chin jerked in a nod, the two of them sitting in silence for a moment before the boy did as he often did when he wanted a hug but felt too awkward to ask for one, and tipped himself into Wayne’s side. 

“Thanks old man.” Eddie whispered into his shoulder and not for the first time, Wayne wished things were easier for the poor kid as he put his mug in one hand and hugged his kid with the other. 

Hoped that in the future, it would be.

Even if he had to force everyone and everything coming after him--and now Steve--to do it.

(Wondered vaguely, how bad it was that he was already getting as protective as Steve as he was of his own kid.

Probably very, given his kid clearly hated Harrington.)

xXx

Wayne took the first night of Steve’s stay off.

He wasn’t the type to use his PTO lightly. Was used to rationing it for any possible thing Eddie might need him for.

A night up sick when he was younger, to a night spent chasing him down during some of their bad spots--but the last year or so Wayne had slowly realized he hadn’t had to use it much.

He was still careful with it though, precious as it was, and was thankful for it now as it ensured his nephew didn’t murder their house guest. 

Or at the very least, didn't sit there pecking at him.

The kid might've failed English a few times, but he had a real gift with words and an even better one with insults.

(Wayne wasn't quite clear on what all the "King" jabs were about, and absolutely did not get why Steve looked far more hurt at the comment about his "sad ass floppy hair" but given the increasingly flat look Steve was throwing Eddie's way, Wayne figured it couldn't be anything good.)

Thankfully a pointed reminder about Steve's injuries had finally gotten them all some peace, enough for Harrington to drop back to sleep--and for Wayne to realize he looked a little too dead while he did it to be comfortable getting any sleep himself.

The kids chest barely moved, and that it ate at Wayne’s until he got up and shoved a hand under his nose. 

Felt his breath, and told himself the poor sod was fine. 

Hurt, absolutely, but alive. 

Over and over again, until the sun had made its rotation in the sky, bringing the morning with it.

‘Better than nightmares, I suppose.’ Wayne figured, as exhaustion scraped at his eyelids.

Those Wayne knew, would come later. When Steve’s brain caught up to the rest of him, and stopping dumping survival chemicals through his battered body. 

He'd given up on sleep entirely sometime around 1 am, and now he sat at his small kitchen table, writing out a medication schedule for Harrington so he and the kid both knew when he could have his next Tylenol. 

Wasn’t even halfway through it before Eddie made his typically late appearance and blew through his door. 

Had his back up from the moment he’d stepped a foot in the kitchen and it didn’t take a genius to see he’d worked himself into a snit again.

Unfortunately for him, whatever scenario that imaginative brain of his had cooked up fell flat to the reality that was the poor kid on the couch. 

Steve Harrington was one a hell of a sight.

Didn’t help that he was doing his level best to make himself as small as possible, curled deep into Wayne's ancient couch.

The blankets covered the ribs and hid away most of the damage, but there wasn’t much Steve could do to hide the shiners on his face--or the marks around his neck.  

Not when they’d grown worse overnight, practically inviting questions.

It was almost laughable how quickly Eddie ate whatever words he’d prepared, mouth awkwardly chewing around them as if they were tangible. 

The less-than-sneaky looks he threw at the younger teen were equally amusing, and if Wayne wasn’t trying to peace keep, he’d have given in and chuckled when Eds split attention caused him to pour half his coffee into the sink rather than a cup. 

Looked utterly lost when, after finishing putting his coffee together and grabbing some junk food thing that absolutely was not a breakfast item, he came to stand awkwardly at Wayne's shoulder, openly staring as Steve blatantly ignored him.

Eds didn’t know what to do, and Wayne couldn't blame him. 

Seemed to keep thinking he was going to encounter a boy that likely no longer existed, and whose blood tinged specter just made things sad.

Shit like this, Wayne knew, took a man’s ego and warped it, shaping it to something else entirely. 

At least for Steve, it seemed that getting wrapped up in whatever mess he had had shaped him for the better, instead of pretzeling him into something worse. That, Wayne thought, spoke to the boy's character more than anything he’d done prior. 

(It helped to know what Hopper tolerated and what he didn’t. That he’d vouched for Steve in the same way Wayne knew he’d vouched for Eddie, even if Eddie didn’t yet realize the cop he antagonized so much would do that for him.) 

That didn't erase the history his kid had with Harrington, though.

Wouldn't stop him from seeing the old Steve, first.

‘Don’t you got school?” Wayne asked when he decided Ed had stared enough. 

“Yeah, yeah.” Eddie waved him off, trotting out the door. “Bye old man, house parasite!” 

It was clearly a jab, meant to nettle, but Steve barely acted like he heard it. 

Wayne rolled his eyes. 

“Goodbye, Eds.” He said firmly, much of a warning as he ever gave, and fondly watched his nephew scuttle out the door. 

Turned to see how Steve was taking things, and was once again given a reminder that Steve wasn’t doing a hell of a lot other than feeling his injuries. 

“I think I promised you a game, son.”  Wayne said gently, startling Steve out of the distant, dim look he had trained on the wall. 

It wasn’t a lot to offer in terms of a distraction, but it would have to do.

[morganski-19]

Chills Right to the Marrow Part 11

part 1, prev part

As fast as Eddie opens his eyes, he shuts them again. Falling back into the slow, deep breaths and constant heartbeats.

Something changed.

Wayne calls the nurse. They check off things on their charts, try to ask Eddie some questions. Like if he can move his hand, try to open his eyes again. Nothing happens. They say something about checking back every few hours.

He’s convinced that they don’t believe him. That they think he fabricated it all out of some hope filled delusion. Not like he’s been waiting here for days. Praying for his boy to wake up. Wishing in some miracle that he’d be able to smile again. All for it to be answered and taken away from him in a blink of his eyes.

But the nurse assures him that they believe him. Explain how most coma patients start to wake up with opening their eyes, moving their hands. How if he shows more movement while Wayne’s here, they’d like to know about it. Will be checking up on him more frequently, and in longer increments to try and document them.

It all sounds too good to be true. Like the last string of hope holding on to dear life. The only thing holding Wayne together. Tying him down so he doesn’t fall down and break.

He needs to get out of here for a while. Take a night for himself.

He drives around, burning gas traveling to an unknown location. Mindlessly following the paths he knows well. Drives past the trailer park three times, almost turning in. Only stopped by the construction signs blocking his path. Ends at the bar he would frequent on his nights off. Would get a beer to cool off after work. Try to forget about life for a while.

Forgetting sounds nice. Loosening the stress that knots in his shoulders. Be able to sleep restfully for a night. Refresh enough to walk back into that hospital room with a full basket of hope. All for it to slowly drain again.

It can’t drain this time.

Instead, Wayne brings himself to a gas station and counts the stray dollars and quarters in his glove box. Has just enough to buy himself a case of beer. Giving himself a limit so he doesn’t spend, or drink more than he can afford.

Sees Harrington and his brown-haired friend walk out of the video store they work at. Closing it up and heading to the diner down the road. Perfectly fine.

No matter how hard Wayne tries, the anger still points in Steve’s direction. For reasons he doesn’t even know anymore. More because it’s easy. They went through the same attack. Steve knows enough about Eddie from that week to have the answer Wayne craved.

But no one tells him anything. Continuously keeps secrets from him without good explanations. Makes this so much harder than it should be. Makes him down beer after beer, wanting to just make any of this easier.

Wayne wakes up the next morning with empty beer cans pressed into his side and a crick in his neck that won’t quit. Cracks his back in a way that just makes it worse. Cleans himself up, tries to wipe away the bags under his eyes. Scrub off the hospital and beer in the shower. Change into slightly cleaner clothes. Cursing himself for using his quarters for beer instead of the laundromat.

He makes his way to the hospital. Eating a shitty stale toaster pastry and hoping it’ll be enough. Knowing his upcoming paycheck will be mostly eaten up by all the other things before him. Walks into the room a little after eleven. A nurse asking Eddie question after question.

Eddie responding to almost every one of them. Opens his eyes when asked, then closes them again. Squeezes the nurse’s hand gently. Turns his head just slightly toward the light.

The hope basket overfills this time.

Dustin comes in the room a little after three. Bookbag thrown over his shoulder, ruffling through to find the book. Shocked still when he sees Eddie opening his eyes.

“He’s awake,” he says in disbelief. Tears starting to form in his eyes.

“Not quite.” Wayne gently corrects. “He still has a long way to go before he can respond, or even register what’s happenin’ around him. His body and mind are racing to get back in sync with each other.”

That’s what the nurses told him earlier. How he’s slowly getting there but isn’t all the way awake again. He’s there, and awake, but not all the way yet. It just all takes time.

“Can he hear me?”

Wayne looks at his boy, watching as his head turns ever so gently toward the two of them. “I think he might, yeah.”

Dustin leans forward, placing his hand over Eddie’s. Watched as his hand tenses at the touch. “Eddie,” his voice breaks. “It’s Dustin. You know, Henderson. I just wanted to say that you’re doing a great job. I hope you get better really soon. I’ve really missed you. And I’m sorry. You should have never been apart of this, I should have never dragged you into it the way I did. I wouldn’t have if I knew you would end up here.”

Wayne wants to know what this all means. What Eddie was dragged into. How this poor kid knew about it enough to drag anyone into anything. How dangerous this all really was.

But it isn’t the right time for these questions. Not for this kid to answer right now. He just sits back and listens to the next chapter of the book. Watches as Eddie responds to it. Is almost brought to tears with each time he opens his eyes to a part he likes. As Dustin stops just to make sure it’s true.

He follows Dustin out when he goes to leave. Sees how he runs up to Steve in the waiting room. Eyes closed and head resting on the wall.

“Steve, Eddie’s starting to wake up,” Dustin shares excitedly.

Steve picks his head off the wall enough for the visible relieved breath to show. “That’s-that’s really good, Dustin.”

He takes a pair of sunglasses out of his jacket pocket and slides them on. His head thunks back on the wall. Almost like he’s hungover. Face lost some color, voice sounding breathless.

“Are you ok?” Dustin asks.

Steve shakes his head gently. “Call your mom, can’t drive home.”

“Shit ok.” Dustin runs off to the nearest payphone. Pulling a few quarters out of his bag and dialing a number.

The brown-haired girl that Wayne should really know the name of comes down the hallway. Immediately knowing that something’s wrong with Steve and rushing over with a bottle of water. Asking him something before scolding about how he’s going to put himself back into a hospital bed.

Wayne’s not so sure this is just a hangover.

“How bad’s the pain?” The girls asks, pouring some of the water onto a tissue and pressing it against Steve’s head.

“Eight,” Steve exhales. Fighting like he’s about to puke.

The girl must realize this too, as she slings one of his arms over her shoulders and basically drags him to the bathrooms.

Wayne’s starting to realize that there’s a lot he doesn’t know. Made harsh judgements that might have not been deserved. He’s starting to realize that he wants to know what happened. To all of them. About all of them. Why this group of people know each other and how it all connects to Eddie.

He just has to start asking the questions.

Next part

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[kirensbird]

His Heart in my Hands

Chapter 4: Nothing But Howls

Ulit-ulitin man, nais kong malaman mong

Iyo ako palagi, palagi

“What are you singing mom?”  I come down from my room as my mom is cooking dinner.

“Oh, it’s just a song someone very special sang to me once.” My mom looked happy. I don’t know why but it feels like the first time in a long time.

“What do the lyrics mean?”

“Over and over again, I want you to know

That I am yours, Always”

“Was it dad who sang it to you?”

She didn’t answer.

…

“I’ll let you two catch up. I forgot to get our lunch. Your bag is the yellow one right? Ok, be right back.” Mark said quickly before closing the door to the rooftop.

It was just me and Ethan now.

An Alpha and an Omega.

“Hey-” I try to speak before I’m pulled into him.

His arms wrap around my body as if he’s holding on for dear life. His head in my neck as he tries to get my scent. He smells like storms.

We stayed like that for what felt like the 2 years I hadn't seen him before he finally pulled away.

“Nice to see you too Ethan.” I say with some blush on my face.

He pets my head. “Good to see you too, Wayne.”

“Sorry, I’m so late.”

“I would have waited a million years for you, pup.” He winks at me.

My face glows red. “P-Please don’t say that.”

“Which part?”

“Both.”

“Nah.”

“Fuck you.”

“Language.”

“You taught me it!”

“Pretty sure that was Mark.”

We laughed. We laughed.

…

“Good to see you again Edgar.” A wolf greets my dad at the front door.

“Good to see you too Alpha. Please come in.” My dad invites the alpha into our home. The alpha is followed by who I assume to be his wife and a familiar storm. Ethan notices my head peeking from the staircase, because of course he does.

Our new pack alpha and his family will be coming over for dinner before the pack meeting, so you’ll be on your best behavior if you know what’s good for you. The words of my father echo through my mind. I fell into just hiding until I’m needed. 

“So, you must be Wayne.” The alpha calls out to me. Stupid alphas and their enhanced noses. I walk out of my hiding spot. My dad’s eyes glare daggers at me, telling me to not mess up. “Ethan talks a lot about you. To be honest, he’s the one who convinced me to even let your family join our pack.” He says to me, but sounds more like an attack on my dad. He doesn’t flinch. Because he knows why. I know why. Omega. I practically hear the alpha seethe between each word.

I laugh. I laughed.

Dinner was awkward.

…

I offered Ethan to transform in my room if he wanted to. I would go to the washroom. I don’t know how, but he kicked himself out of my room to change in the washroom.

“Ethan? You ready?” I knock on the washroom door.

He growled. Looks like he is.

I opened the door to be greeted by a large orange wolf. My dad and mom were bigger, but we were young. Still he was much bigger than any wolf my age. He walks by me to exit the washroom, but not before briefly putting his snout in my palm. I pick up his neat pile of clothes and bring them to my bed.

We've only seen each other's wolf once at summer camp. It was a necessity. There were 2 other werewolves at summer camp with us. As the alpha among us, he took charge and he organized a meeting so we could safely shift on the full moon without being caught. 

I was gonna start stripping when I realized the wolf followed me into my room.

“Ethan, I can’t transform with you watching me.”

“...”

“I’m not gonna take off my clothes with you here.”

“...”

“Ethan!”

The wolf rolled his eyes and turned his back to me. I swear, I’ve never met a more overprotective wolf.

After putting my own clothes in a pile next to Ethan’s, I start groaning and growling as I shift. I think he noticed my loud heartbeat, because the orange wolf turned around towards me. He pressed his forehead against mine. Storms.

“You good?” I hear his voice echo in my head.

“Ya. I’m still not used to it yet.” I reply in his mind.

“You’ll get used to it eventually.” He licks my snout. Forgot how gross that feels. “I missed you.”

“It hasn’t even been a day.” I use my paw to swat him.

“I was talking about your wolf.”

“I don’t look much different.”

“You smell different.”

“I do?”

“Just kidding.”

“I’m tuning you out.” I would never.

He faked whining.

…

“First, order of business. I would like everyone to welcome Edgar and his family to the pack.” The alpha’s wolf looked just like Ethan’s, but way bigger. The difference was obvious especially considering he was standing right now to his dad. Yellow eyes.

The wolves howled, welcoming my dad and mom. The pack was much smaller than my old one. A little more than 20 wolves, I’m pretty sure. To be fair, everyone in town was part of the pack. It didn’t help that we lived past the human border. Or alliance border or something. I probably should pay attention in geography and history class.

Welcome. Greetings. Pack.

Omega.

Weak.

That’s all I’ve ever known. That’s all I ever hear. I hated packs.

“Welcome to the pack. Now, next on the list is…” I don’t care.

They continue on with their meeting. Updates on territory. Meetings with other packs. Assigning jobs and tasks. Upcoming full moon. Elders from the council visiting soon. And some other stuff I couldn’t give a shit about.

“And- where’s Dalmund?” The alpha looks around the pack.

Witch? Magic? Pack?

The alpha howled when he couldn’t be found.

“THE FUCK ARE YOU WITCH!?” He sounded like my dad.

“I’m here, I'm here. Quit your howling. I can’t even understand you yet.” I watch as this man comes out of the woods with a pack of crows behind him in the trees. He was human. So human. But so much more. He was filled with magic. Almost blinding. He was a witch. I thought Arlo was a witch. But he didn’t have this much. Is this normal? Did this man just have a lot? Or does Arlo just not have any. But he reminded me of Arlo. I wonder what he smells like. No. Bad Wayne.

He comes to the alpha’s side before briefly patting his head. The alpha didn’t growl like I expected him to. “Sorry, I was late. I had to get some stuff. Y’know, witch business.” He says with a smirk and shows off a plastic bag.

“So, any update on your son?” The alpha asked the man.

His heart beats.

“He doesn’t seem to be improving.”

“We need you to have an heir.”

“I know.”

“The elders won’t be happy. Wolves and witches.”

“I’ll figure it out. I’ve been teaching him potion brewing so he could still help out.”

“That won’t be good enough.”

“That's all we got.”

The alpha scoffed. The ever stoic orange wolf next to him frowns. First emotion he showed this whole time.

They continue on with they’re meeting.

…

Most of the pack has left to go do their tasks or home to rest. My mom and dad went to do border patrol. The alpha and his wife were speaking with Dalmund. He touched her head briefly too.

“I worry for Arlo.” Ethan comes to my side and speaks to me.

“Arlo? What does he have anything to do with this?”

“He’s our witch's son. He was supposed to become our witch too. But you saw him didn’t you?”

“Saw what?”

“His magic. Or lack thereof.”

“He has magic.”

“Not enough.”

I hated this.

“Well sorry he wasn’t born extraordinarily powerful like Dalmund.”

“Dalmund isn’t the exception. Arlo is.”

I hated everything.

The sound of footsteps alert our attention as we turn to the devil.

“Evening, little Alpha.” Dalmund greets the orange before ruffling this head. “And evening to you too, little wolf.” He reached out to me. I growled and backed away. I don’t like being petted by humans. Well, except for…

“Wayne! Don’t be rude.” The orange wolf growled at me.

“It’s alright Ethan. I’m a stranger, he doesn’t trust me yet.” He calmed the young alpha down.

The man kneeled down in front of me. “It’s alright. I won’t hurt you. You’re Wayne right?” He reaches into the plastic bag and pulls out a flower. It’s white like snow. He puts it behind my ear and then gently pets me. “Sorry, if the flower’s not to your liking. Arlo was the one who suggested it.”

When he touched me it felt like a pathway was revealed to his mind. Can I mindlink to him? What should I say? I feel like there’s a million thoughts right now in my head. It’s overwhelming. I need to relax.

“Arlo’s amazing.” I tell his father.

The man standing there in front of me was shocked. His eyes widened, not expecting me to say that. Hell, even I wasn’t. I don’t know what came over me. But I meant it.

“He is.” He answers. Smiling.

…

“The spell I used required the user to make contact so you can mindlink to me. Non-werewolves normally can’t be mind linked to.” Dalmund explained.

“That explains why when you petted me I felt connected to your mind.” I conclude.

Ethan yawned.

We were walking in the forest. With my mind more clear, me and Dalmund start talking about all sorts of things. He's the first witch I've been able to talk about witch stuff about, so he had to deal with my curiosity. But he never seemed bothered by it. The orange wolf followed us of course, not having much to do anyways. It reminded me of back when us and Mark hung out. Me and Mark would talk about all sorts of things while Ethan just listened. Of course, we wouldn't just let him so we would bother him too.

“Where does magic come from anyway?” I asked.

“From the heart.” He says with a very heroic look. I just blankly stare at him, unamused. “I’m serious. Witches are born with magic inside of them. You can think of it as from their soul. We use this magic to create simple spells. But to use more complex spells we need to use the magic in the earth. Thankfully, this magic is naturally attracted to witches' magic. Of course witches still need practice to do these spells.” He exposition. “Think of it as the soul’s magic as the script and the earth’s magic as the program.”

“Wow.” I look at him in awe.

“You have no idea what he’s talking about do you?” Ethan tease.

“Ya huh!”

“I probably should have used an example you kids would understand.” He admits.

“Probably, but it’s ok I understood how you explained it.”

“Sure you did kid- OW!” Ethan tried teasing again before I bit his leg. “Oh that’s it! Come here!” He tackles me into the ground.

We wrestle and bite each other in the dirt. He was stronger and bigger. But I was faster and smaller. I ran circles around him.

“I seriously can never tell if you wolves are playing or fighting.” Dalmund watches on.

“We’re just playing.” Ethan says.

“Speak for yourself! I’m going for blood!” I exclaim as I chomp on his maw.

He yelps. I snicker.

“Ethan!” A bark comes from the woods. We all knew who it was. I let him go and he got off me.

The larger wolf looks over us in disappointment before speaking. “Ethan, I need to speak to you. In private.”

Ethan lowered his head.

“Sounds like our cue to head back. I’ll walk you back pup.” Dalmund offered.

I don’t fight it.

…

The walk back was quiet. I would love to continue asking him about magic, but I just wasn’t in the mood anymore.

We arrived at the backdoor. Almost out of habit I was going to shift back to open the door, but that’s when I remembered Dalmund was here. I turn to him to see he’s already turned around, as if he was used to this already, which he probably was hanging around with a bunch of werewolves. Still I don’t exactly feel comfortable.

I go up to him and nudge his hand.

“Hmm, what’s up buddy? Don’t worry I don’t plan on peeking, just do what you gotta do.” He reassures me. I feel a bit assured, but not enough.

I nudge his hand again to follow me. I go up to a rock and flip it over revealing the spare key. At this point he seemed to understand and reached for it to open the backdoor. I go in first with him following me closely behind. I just wanted to quickly put on some clothes so I ran upstairs on all fours. The man stays in the dining room looking at an empty vase on the table.

I closed the door behind me and shifted quickly putting on my clothes not really paying attention. Now clothed, I head down to see Dalmund putting a bouquet of the same white flower behind my ear, which I just remembered was still there, into the vase.

“Looks good?” He asked me.

“Pretty.” I look at the field of flowers.

“Good,” He walks over to me and looks me over, thinking. He gets on one knee to meet me at eye level and picks the flower from behind my ear. I was a bit sad he was taking it away, but was too nervous to do anything. He must have noticed my worry. “Don’t worry, you’ll get it back eventually.” He walks away towards the backdoor. “It was nice to meet you, Wayne. And thanks for being Arlo’s friend.” He says before waving and closing the door.

What a weird guy.

Friend.

…

My parents were still out, so I decided to do some writing in my journal, when I heard something hitting my window. I get up from my desk to investigate when I see a small pebble hit the window. I open it and look to see a naked Ethan down below. My face instantly flushed and I backed away from the window.

“Ethan! What the fuck are you doing?” I yell out.

“You have my clothes, idiot.” He yelled back.

Not even caring, I went over to the pile of clothes on my bed and threw them out the window. I didn’t hear anything for a while.

“Wayne, your clothes won’t fit me.” With me still flustered and rushing earlier I realized I had accidentally put on Ethan’s clothes. Dumbass.

The clothes I sent out came flying back through the window. Confused, I was going to check on Ethan before an orange wolf tackled me. I was underneath the wolf which embarrassed me a bit. He of course didn’t care and quickly licked my face before getting off.

I get up and pick up my clothes. “I’ll be right back.” and left for the washroom to change. I returned to my room and let him know I left his clothes in there.

I sat on the edge of my bed waiting for him to return.

“If you wanted my clothes you could have just asked.” He says walking in. “I wouldn't mind, but I kinda need them to go home.”

“Shut up, and go already.” I say bashfully.

He smirks and ruffles my hair. “I’ll see you later.” He waved before closing my door.

Stupid alpha

---

Note: https://open.spotify.com/track/4WgViu9gw3qYOr3iF9OuLG?si=2e5de3476e4948fe heres the song where the lyrics at the start came from

dude wayne and ethan are so cute. i cant say much about them tho or anything really so ill just shut up now lol. anyways yes dalmund is wayne's new father figure uwu. also ill explain mindlinking and stuff in a future chapter dw. i dont think i have much else to share besides i hope you enjoyed lovelies <3

[frownyalfred]

thinking about the expert masseuse Alfred hired for the family that is paid a small fortune annually to provide massage services and ignore so, so many things. No questions, no remarks, just quality service and an ironclad NDA that, if broken, would probably topple said masseuse’s entire family line.

Things Alfred is paying them to ignore, in no specific order:

Bruce’s spinal hardware courtesy of Bane :)

weird amounts of muscle on everyone, even the kids (despite them allegedly not working physical jobs)

scars

FRESH scars

the fact that every joint in Bruce’s body clicks when moved/manipulated at the tender age of 42

Olympic athlete level physiques

rotator cuff injuries across the whole family

scars that are definitely from bullets and/or acid splashes

old signs of what looks like torture (Bruce)

Dick’s entire left arm is basically screws and plates (he “fell really bad” once)

every single family member takes deep tissue massage with max pressure with 0 complaints

calluses

no really, the weirdest fucking calluses