#wheelchair user Steve Harrington

[italiansteebie]

As someone who is disabled, I am obsessed with the idea of Steve Harrington in a wheelchair or using mobility aids. Maybe hurt/comfort with Steve feeling stuck? like out in public people will treat him like a baby and dote on him like he cant do anything at all. Also established steddie?? ->

ignore me if u dont like this prompt hshs

excuse you, this was an amazing prompt and I love it.

and I am a sucker for projecting onto Steve, so lets go.

---

Steve was always in pain nowadays.

In fact, it only got worse after the bats, and he figures the exertion after the fact didn't help. Before, he could always push through, hobble along and ice his aching joints when he got home.

Though, he couldn't ignore it after his legs would only stay strong for about ask hour before they collapsed under him. He remembers the first day it happened. He'd been at the grocery store, picking up dinner for his date with Eddie. (It was fairly new, but it was strong). He'd felt a bit weak before leaving, but as always he pushed through, ignoring the dizziness and pain.

It had only gotten worse as he walked through the grocery store, and all of a sudden, he was on the ground, and the grocery store patrons were staring at him, whispering things about the Harrington name and image. The store manager ended up having to call Eddie to come help him.

"Oh, Stevie..." He sighed. He'd been bugging Steve about seeing a doctor for months in fact ever since he was healed himself, he'd been pestering Steve to go to Owens and explain to him what was going on. But he hadn't, and now here they were, Eddie helping Steve into a wheelchair in front of a crowd of Hawkins shoppers.

Steve had been covering his face, and Eddie could almost feel the shame he was experiencing. He wanted to tell their audience off, to go away, to mind their business. But he knew that would only make it worse. So he stayed quiet, and so did Steve.

"Are you okay?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

So they didn't.

And they didn't after Steve saw Owens.

And they didn't after Steve was fitted for a wheelchair.

They just... Didn't.

Until Steve had fallen again.

At Mike's house, with just the kids, who weren't strong enough to help him back into his chair, with no help from his wobbling legs. So they called Eddie, and hid in the basement after Steve had yelled at them to go away, hot tears of embarrassment rolling down his face.

--

They were home now, and again, Steve was quiet. Eddie helped him get situated on the couch, legs still too wobbly to do it unassisted.

"Steve... Lets talk about it,"

Steves head snapped up, eyes shining, "You wanna talk about it? Fine! I'm fucking useless, my legs don't work and I can't fucking do anything by myself anymore! The kids barely look at me, Robs hasn't been able to hang out in weeks, and the rest of Hawkins thinks I'm a fucking charity case! Every time I leave the house it's like I'm a fucking zoo animal. I wish this had never fucking happened! I wish I wasn't-"

"Don't say that, Steve."

"It's true isn't it? Don't you hate having to come help me? God... I just- I'm so..." The sobs crawl their way out of his throat, and he can't stop them once they start.

"Steve..." Eddie rubs a comforting hand up and down Steve's back, pulling him closer to cradle him in his arms. Steve tucked his head into Eddie's neck, letting the tears roll freely down his face. "Steve, you have every right to feel that way but... I hope you know it's not true. The kids... It's just a different dynamic and I'm not supposed to tell you this but Robin has been working on a design of the back of your wheelchair, she wanted it to be a surprise and she was worried she spoil it." He hears Steve sniffle a sort of laugh. "And baby, you cared for me every single day for months while I was healing, what makes you think I hate helping you? I'm so glad I can finally make it up to you."

Steve lifts his head, looking Eddie in the eyes, "Really?"

"Really, Stevie."

He watches Steve smile, for what seemed like the first time since coming home from that doctors appointment. "Also, with all the extra arm work, your biceps look," He pauses to do a chefs kiss, "Fantastico! That's how you guys say it in Italy, right?" He smirks, and Steve bursts into a fit of giggles, tears drying on his cheeks as he shakes his head. "I love you, Eds."

They lean in for a soft kiss, it's slow and sweet, "I love you too, Steve."

[shieldofiron]

Meals on Wheels

(Harringrove, just a flirty little drabble for @disabledbillyandsteveweek day 2 prompt-Family)

Steve thought it was maybe the stupidest thing he’d ever thought of. He and Robin had been having a sleepover and somehow the subject got around to tattoos.

“I would get a pin up girl but that might be tacky,” Robin sighed.

“As far as I’m concerned, the tackier the better,” Steve rolled up to his countertop and poured another glass of wine.

“Oh yeah, what are you getting? A nail bat?”

“Only if it says ‘who wants to get nailed,’” Steve snarled.

“What about a tramp stamp?” Robin took the glass of wine and sipped it. “Eat me.”

Steve thew a saucy look over his shoulder, dripping with king Steve charm, “Please. Look at me. It would say meals on wheels.”

Robin giggled, “Yeah, as long as we’re getting tattoos of wishful thinking I should get one on my hand that says, ‘Pussy destroyer.’”

“‘M just in a dry spell.”

“Yeah, okay,” Robin rolled her eyes, “Would you actually get ‘Meals on Wheels?’”

“Eat fast, eat fresh,” Steve quipped. “I’ll do it if you do, Madam Pussy Destroyer.”

Robin giggled loopily, “You know I did see an article about a tattoo parlor that specializes in sensory safe tattoos.”

“What’cha mean?” Steve wasn’t drunk, but he was a little tipsy on their good fortune in securing a wheelchair accessible apartment this close to the city center. Sure, a lot of rent had to come from their was Starcourt hush money, after Steve been paralyzed and a flayed Jonathan Byers has saved the world, but they he still found it and so Steve was happy to fork over the cash. The location was ideal, even if the city noise sometimes wrecked havoc on Robin’s sensory issues so they’d installed some extra sound proofing. But he wasn’t sure how a tattoo parlor was a part of that.

“It’s super cool, the owner has OCD so he made it so each room is private and soundproofed. They don’t play loud music, and offer headphones if the buzzing is too much, though you can bring your own movies. I’ve always wanted a tattoo, but some of those places are just too loud and busy,” Robin sighed.

“So you’ve always wanted to be a pussy destroyer?”

“No, shut up,” she blushed. “A Lilly, for my grandma.”

“Well maybe tomorrow we can go check it out.

“I wouldn’t want to do it alone.” She bit her lip. “I wouldn’t have the guts.”

Steve shrugged, “ok, you convinced me. It’s tramp stamp time.”

“No, you’re not serious,” Robin giggled.

“You’re my family. If you bleed, I bleed. You tramp stamp, I tramp stamp,” Steve said, only laughing when Robin did.

But then the next morning, his head pounding, he didn’t have too many defenses when Robin had looked at him with those puppy dog eyes and said she’d called and made them an appointment. She’d even brought in his motorized wheelchair and said that she’d buy bagels on the way.

But he was regretting it when they were finally there, and Steve was contemplating actually getting something permanently inked into his skin.

He wasn't sure if he was cool enough for this. He definitely wasn't cool enough for the artist that came in and introduced themselves to Robin. Their name was Eddie and they were practically covered in tattoos, wearing some cool unpronounceable band name t-shirt that they'd sewn to a mini tutu skirt to make a dress. They took Robin back to her room after they went over her sketch, a lilly painted with pale watercolor shades.

Robin squeezed his hand, "You're not gonna chicken out on me, right? I booked the only two person room they have so if you don't show up, I will know."

"I'm not chickening out," Steve laughed, "Though I hope your grandma isn't watching from heaven, because she'll probably see my ass."

Robin snorts, "She definitely saw your ass this morning when I helped you out of the shower. She was a tough old bird, a little of your pale ass won't scare her."

Steve snorted, "I'll see you in a moment."

Steve was starting to feel a little nervous. Honestly after Starcourt, he hadn't been interested in hiding his sexuality at all. Life seemed too short, he might as well unapologetically be himself, bi and disabled and ADHD and slutty and everything that was himself. But maybe the double entendre tramp stamp was a little too out there.

And then... he'd come in.

"Hi, Steve, right?" The guy was stunning, with long blonde curls streaked with blue piled up into a big bun on the top of his head. He offered a large, warm hand and Steve almost melted when they shook.

"Yeah, hi."

"I'm Billy, I'm the owner," Billy smiled, and Steve swore that he could see a cartoon smile, like Billy was an anime prince. An anime prince that had a giant seratonin tattoo that was splattered with that looked like watercolor. "I hope you don't mind that I use some hand sanitizer. I'm working on my handshake thing, but..."

"It's fine, ah... do you mind if I have some too?" Steve held out his hand.

Billy squirted Steve out a little of their fancy hand sanitizer.

"So I have to be honest, I wasn't sure what to expect when we got the call for a wheelchair themed tramp stamp that said meals on wheels," Billy licked along his lower lip, "But now that I'm seeing you it makes more sense."

Steve could feel himself turning red, "It was kind of a joke-"

"I mean," Billy leaned in, "You do look good enough to eat."

Steve shivered, blush spreading up to his hairline.

Billy straightened, "God, sorry. Sorry, that was so inappropriate-"

"It's fine."

"No, really, I can see if Heather is free to take over the appointment, except that-" Billy bit his lip, "I think I'll still have to be the one to help you onto the table. Maybe if Eddie and Heather work together... God, not that you're like... too big or... shit... I'm sorry."

Steve laughed, "Really, it's fine."

"You're not too big, you're like... perfect," Billy ran a hand down his face, "Sorry. I'm sorry. Chrissy should know she can't give me the pretty guys, I clearly can't handle it."

Steve glanced up, giving him that King Steve sparkle right back, and seeing the way it made Billy's eyes go wide and nervous.

Steve pressed on the joystick to his chair with one finger, running a hand along the tip flirtatiously.

Billy's eyes darted to his hand, and then back to his face.

"I think you can handle me," Steve said smugly, "Don't you wanna try?”

Steve left that day with a bit of a sore ass, though the sensation was soothed a lot by the business card that had Billy's personal number scrawled on the back.

"I can't believe the meals on wheels tattoo got you a date," Robin rolled her eyes as she attached Steve's chair to the floor of his van, tightening the straps down with a shake of her head.

"What can I say," Steve shrugged, "Billy looks like a hungry boy to me."

Robin gagged, "You are my family. But never, ever, say that again."

@intothedysphoria thanks for answering my question on this one.

[kas-eddie-munson]

whelp, there's a part two now

Part 1

~~~

Eddie always loved Halloween.  He liked dressing up and putting on a persona, pretending to be someone else for a while.

He wasn’t expecting to have fun this year, but there was that twinge of hope again.  Henderson and his friends decided they were too old to trick-or-treat, so them and some of the older teens were meeting up at Steve’s house for a party.

Honestly anything to get him out of the house had to be better than nothing, right?

Steve told Eddie he’d pick him up at 6:30, which he did.  He explained in the car that the kids might get there early, and that Robin was guarding the snacks so they wouldn’t all get devoured before half the guests arrived.

Eddie watched Steve as he drove.  Tried to get a read on him.  Tapped his knuckles against the window, a habit he’d been told by multiple people was irritating over the years.  No response.  Bounced his leg a bit so his boot would tap against the floor.

Steve glanced over at a stop sign.

“You okay?”

Eddie stopped moving his leg and told him he was fine.

Eddie wondered whether he heard or saw him moving.  Noted the way Steve looked directly at him while he spoke.

He wasn’t sure why Steve didn’t say anything about it.  He didn’t have a lot of time to inspect Steve’s appointment summary the other day.  Didn’t spot a date.  It had to be pretty recent, though.  He supposed it’s not like they were super close.

Parked outside his house, Steve got out and brought Eddie his chair, leading the way down a sidewalk to his back patio.  The sliding back door was nearly level with the ground, though Eddie still had to move his chair over the bump backwards.

Once inside it was clear the party had already started.  Loud music blasted and all the kids talked over each other.  Dustin called out for him from across the room and soon Eddie was surrounded by the kids, telling him they were glad he made it to the party.  If he was alone he might have cried.

It took a minute for the kids to realize he was trying to move further into the house, but eventually they moved over, and he found the table with food on it.

On the way back he lingered in the doorway as Steve stood off to the side, eyebrows furrowed.  He asked a couple questions about the conversation that were lost to the teens talking over each other, if someone could repeat that or if he heard a word correctly.  His hand clenched around his drink.

Maybe Eddie wasn’t the only one who felt alone in a room full of people.

Part 3 ~ Part 4 ~ Part 5 ~ Part 6

[yxlenas]

So I’m in a wheelchair and Steve Harrington is so cool that I decided he needs one too. Steve gets hurt during the last upside down run and is confined to a wheelchair, that fine and he even remodels his car and makes sure it fits for his wheelchair and is accustomed so he doesn’t have to use his legs for the pedals. He’s so excited to drive around again but…

When Steve is out doing errands with Eddie, someone sees Steve’s car in the handicapped spot and they get mad because they think Steve is faking or something bcuz they just see the car, not Steve in a literal wheelchair?

Maybe they slash Steve’s tries or egg his car? Like a little hurt/comfort? (Also maybe that someone was Eddie’s friends, CC?)

Ignore me if you don’t like this prompt 🫶

So I would love to hear more about Steve as a wheelchair user! However, as a person with a dynamic disability, one of my biggest fears when I have a handicap placard is being screamed at for using it, so I won't be writing this.

[superstarlightt]

⋆ stranger things universe masterlist ⋆

^ - fluff, * - smut, () - angst

steve harrington - coming soon

eddie munson

^monster cuddles - pre-season 4!eddie munson x gn!wheelchair-user!reader

jonathan byers - coming soon

dustin henderson - coming soon

lucas sinclair - coming soon

mike wheeler - coming soon

will byers - coming soon

jim hopper - coming soon

jane 'eleven' hopper - coming soon

robin buckley - coming soon

nancy wheeler - coming soon

max mayfield - coming soon

[kas-eddie-munson]

cw: ableism, depression

~~~

Eddie always tried not to dream too big.  He grew up poor, with shitty parents, so he learned pretty early on to prepare for disappointment if he ever asked for or wanted something, even non material wants, like love.

It didn’t always work, though.  His teachers always said he had his head in the clouds.  He dreamed of becoming a rockstar, getting married with kids afterwards.  Moving into a big house with a dog and a yard.

And he knew, really, it was silly.  But he thought maybe he could get bits and pieces of that if not the whole thing.  Maybe he would never have his dream job, but he could do something similar.  Play his guitar at bars on the weekend, teach kids music lessons, or work at a record shop.

Maybe he would never find someone who could put up with all his dramatics and energy full time, but he’d have a girlfriend, eventually, for a while.

And here he was.  Couldn’t even sell weed anymore, couldn’t get out of bed without help sometimes, could barely get out of the house without help, certainly couldn’t drive.  The new trailer didn’t even have steps, it had ONE step.  And that was enough to stop him from moving up and down with a wheelchair.

ONE step.

The bathroom door was too narrow to fit through with it.  He had to hold his piss sometimes when he didn’t have the energy to get all the way there without his chair.

He knew he was a financial burden on Wayne.  The government paid off most of his medical bills, and for their new home, but that wasn’t gonna cut it forever.  Especially if Wayne kept insisting on him continuing physical therapy.

He wondered what they told him.  If Wayne really thought he could ever walk again, more than across a room or from the door to the car.

Eddie did, at first.  Again, dreaming too big.

The doctors were honest with him, even if his heart wasn’t.  He’d be in pain probably the rest of his life.  Things would get better, but he’d probably always need his chair, at least sometimes.

Things were awkward, with his friends.  They didn’t get it.  He didn’t expect them to, and it’s not like they ever talked about feelings and shit anyway.  They didn’t think he killed Chrissy, he was pretty sure, and they weren’t super weird about how he got jumpy sometimes, but they’d get so awkward.  He’d move past them in his chair, and they’d cast their eyes to the floor, trying not to look at it.  Stopped inviting him places when half the time they’d show up and there’d be no ramp, or the ramp would be too steep, or too narrow to actually get up it.  Or they’d have to talk to five different employees to find the one who knew how to work the automatic door in the back of the building by the dumpster.

Not to mention how he often needed help just getting out of the car.  And how he ALWAYS needed a ride.

So they stopped talking to him, more or less.  The Party did still, kind of.  Dustin was always going on about Eddie’s exercises, and telling him how he can still do anything if he sets his mind to it, that that’s what they always said at science camp.

He means well, but Eddie doesn’t know how to tell him he’s already trying so, so hard.  That this is him at a hundred and ten percent.  That not every problem is something you can fix.

So, Eddie spends a lot of time alone, in his room, exhausted, too tired to even write music or work on campaigns - stuff you can do lying down - half the time.

Except on Thursdays.  Thursdays, Steve drove him to his physical therapy appointments.  It honestly felt kind of pathetic how much he looked forward to sitting in a car mostly in silence for thirty minutes a week.  He tried putting on music sometimes, but Steve always turned it off, and Eddie?  He’s too tired to fight over stuff like that anymore.

And Steve didn’t want to talk, it seemed.  People didn’t usually ignore him when he spoke these days, but Steve almost always did.  And Eddie didn’t care, really.  Again, lowering his expectations.

That was until this Thursday, anyway.  Sitting in silence, Eddie noticed a plastic bag by his feet in Steve’s normally pristine car, and Steve snatched it out of his hands when he tried to pick it up.

“Sorry, I uh, forgot to clean that up,” he said, and stuffed it in the center console.

Parked at the physical therapy place, Steve got out of the car to get Eddie’s chair out, and one of the older women who went here sucked him into a conversation Eddie was half listening to through the closed doors.  He glanced in the rear view mirror, and noted that Steve was facing away from the car.

Eddie looked at the center console, considering.  He popped it open and inspected the bag.  Inside was a stapled sheet of printer paper and a brochure.  Eddie frowned, and stuffed everything back in the bin as the woman left and Steve popped the trunk.

The brochure was information about hearing loss.

Steve helped him out of the car, and held the door for him into the building as usual.  Eddie noted how, despite being unusually quiet, Steve still treated him pretty normally, compared to some of their other friends.

Eddie didn’t get much done during his appointment.

~~~

Edit: Now has a part two; part three; part four; part five; part six (final!)

[kas-eddie-munson]

final part of my disabled steddie AU~

Note that this part has implied child abuse/neglect

i also posted the completed story on AO3

Part 1 ~ Part 2 ~ Part 3 ~ Part 4 ~ Part 5 ~~~

Christmas came and went.  New Years.

Max was released from the hospital.

Eddie was worried about her.  Her mom still lived nearby.  He never saw either of them around, at the store, in the neighborhood, hanging out with the other kids.

Until he overheard her mom on his porch one night with Wayne and another neighbor, having a conversation he wasn’t supposed to hear.

Eddie told Steve, who told Hopper.

Max stayed with the Byers family, after that.

Eddie visited her, sometimes.  She was pale, hair cut short, almost like El’s used to be.  She had a power chair, but it was harder for her to get in and out than it was for Eddie with his, so she stayed in bed most of the time.  She acted different, moreso than she did in the hospital.

She was silent.  Eyes sunken, vacant.

Jocye’s eyes were big, frantic, round the clock.  Her other kids were withdrawn.  He wondered if things didn’t work out, where else Max would go.  Did she have any other family?

Would that family be worse?

Eddie thought about about that conversation on the porch a lot.  It flashed through his head without permission.

What Wayne said.  Or more accurately, what he didn’t say.  What he didn’t do.  Wayne’s house had been a refuge for Eddie his whole life.  It was starting to feel more like a cell.

He supposed he was lucky to have a cell at all.

~~~

Eddie called Steve late one night.  Asked if they could drive somewhere together.  It took a while to get the words clear enough through the static of the phone, but Eddie was more patient than he used to be, these days.

Eddie gave instructions and Steve drove, landing them in a mostly empty parking lot on the outskirts of town.  It was a post office, he was pretty sure.  Closed.  It was quiet out here.

Steve helped Eddie into his chair, and Eddie lead the two of them to the edge of the road, bending over carefully and grabbing a handful of chunky gravel.

“Wayne taught me to drive here, years ago now.”

Eddie threw a small rock from his pile down against the pavement.  Steve picked some up and did the same.

He told Steve about Max, in more detail than before.  What her mom said about her.  How their neighbor consoled her through it, told her she was a good mother, that it was ‘complicated.’

It was okay to just let Max wither away, he supposed.  Because it was complicated.  Because it was harder, now.

As though Max wanted to be stuck like this.  Unable to take care of herself even though she knew how.  Even though she’d probably been taking care of herself longer than kids her age should.

How he was still worried.  How the Byers couldn’t seem to keep up with her care, either.  How unfair it was that she was stuck like this.  He threw one rock so hard against the ground that it shattered.

Steve told him he was worried too.

He took Eddie’s hand and squeezed it.

~~~

Steve made some phone calls, with Robin’s help.  Finally got ahold of Owens.

Max had a nurse visiting her most days, now.

~~~

Max opened up slowly.

January bled into February bled into March.

She told him more about what happened with her mom.

He told her it wasn’t her fault.

The Byers house was easier to navigate, now.  The result of more phone calls.  Sometimes, El told him, Max asked to play cards with her.

~~~

In April, Steve told Eddie how tired he was.  How his hearing aids didn’t help, much.  How it still sounded different, now.  How much effort it takes to hear.

Eddie held his hand this time.

~~~

On the Fourth of July, Steve took Eddie back to that parking lot.  He set up a picnic blanket and a lawnchair, and Eddie sat next to him while they ate watermelon.  Sometimes they’d spot fireworks in the distance.

Eddie kissed him, and he tasted like something he could trust.

~~~

Max asked Eddie, one day, in almost a whisper, “How do you live like this?”

It didn’t hurt the way it did when strangers asked, when they told him they wouldn’t bother to keep going in his place.  He knew it was different, with Max.  He knew when she said ‘you,’ she didn’t mean Eddie.

He thought about it.  Eddie didn’t want to lie to her.  Tell her that it was easy, or that it would all work out when he didn’t know that it would.  Eddie still couldn’t go out in public most places. Sometimes it took him a week to recover from a good day.  Sometimes he felt so separate from the rest of the world he ached with it.

He decided on, “sometimes, people help you.  Sometimes, they stay.”

[kas-eddie-munson]

more disabled steddie~ same CWs as earlier parts.

Part 1 ~ Part 2

~~~

After the party, Eddie was out of commission for a few days, exhausted.  But he had a mission now, so by the time the next weekend rolled around, he dragged the phonebook out of the kitchen drawer and scanned the B’s for Buckley.

Her mom picked up, because that was just his luck, and he made something up about being a friend from band til he got Robin on the line.

“Hey!  Buckley!  You watch a lot of like, foreign films, right?  Like in French or something?”

“Uh, yeah?  Eddie?  Who is this?”

“Yeah it’s Eddie.  Listen, does Steve like those?”

“Steve?  I mean I’ve forced him to watch them with me, but no, not really.  Are you alright?  I don’t think you’ve ever called me before.”

Eddie explained that he wanted to invite the two of them over to watch a movie, and Robin got excited, listing off movies she thought they’d all like.

The next day, Eddie opened the door to an enthusiastic Robin, Steve getting out of his car behind her.

“- and we ended up going with Star Wars which I’m sure you’ve seen already but like it’s a classic?  And it’s Steve’s favorite, so we can do a mini marathon!”

Eddie pulled up next to the sofa and locked his wheels, scooching over onto the sofa and getting himself comfy.  Robin stood staring at him.

“Um, do you need help?  Or,”

She made a pained expression and Eddie told her he was fine, which he was.  She sat down in Wayne’s recliner, as far away as she could be from where Eddie was sitting.

They got the movie set up and Steve made popcorn while Robin skipped through the ads.  Steve brought over the food, and she navigated the menu, turning on closed captions.  Eddie said nothing, but Steve scowled at her.

“Eds, did Robin tell you I’ve seen Star Wars before?  Multiple times?”  Steve made eye contact with her as he spoke.

He and Robin had a silent conversation.  She pressed play without looking at the remote, and Steve heaved a sigh, head flopping back onto the sofa.

Eddie nudged Steve as they watched, making little comments after he got his attention.  He didn’t ask about the elephant in the room.  By the time the first movie ended they were barely paying attention to it, conversation drifting between all sorts of unrelated topics.

The next day was rough.  Everything hurt, despite not doing much the day before.  Too much to even sleep it off.  He didn’t have weed, since he wasn’t selling anymore and couldn’t exactly ask Wayne to run him up to Rick’s place.  He just laid in bed, half awake most of the day.

Wednesday, Eddie woke up feeling alright.  Wayne helped him down off the porch to the car, and then packed his chair in the trunk.

Wayne took Eddie to the grocery store sometimes, like he was a dog that needed a walk.  It was one of the few places in town with automatic doors and ramps onto the sidewalk, presumably for the shopping carts.  He’d rip their shopping list in half, and hand half to Eddie, who would grab what he could carry in his lap and return so Wayne could get the rest of their food.  Eddie was sure it took longer this way but didn’t complain.

He overheard him talking to Mrs. Henderson near the checkout lanes.  She called Wayne “an angel.”  Wayne Munson, who watches baseball in his underwear and smokes a pack a day.  Eddie doesn’t think Wayne’s been called an angel in his life.

But he was an angel now apparently, because he has the gargantuan burden of babysitting twenty-one-year-old Eddie Munson.  Indefinitely.

Eddie pretended he hadn’t heard the conversation in the car, just fiddled with the radio.  Wayne didn’t mention talking to her either.  They drove home in silence.

Part 4 ~ Part 5 ~ Part 6

[kas-eddie-munson]

Part 1 ~ Part 2 ~ Part 3 ~ Part 4

more disabled steddie. (readmore is just because it's a longer section. no new content warnings.)

~~~

The Thursday after Thanksgiving, Steve helped Eddie back into his house after his appointment, as usual.  He lingered at the door afterwards and scratched his neck.

“Hey, uh, this weekend, if you’re feeling up for it, I was maybe wondering if you wanted to come with me and Robin to a bar in Indy?”

Eddie wasn’t sure what he was expecting Steve to say but it wasn’t that.

“We’ve been there before!  No steps, doors are pretty wide.  It’s usually busy and I don’t know if it’s… really your scene but, she said I should ask you, so.”

Eddie wasn’t sure why exactly, but he said yes.

~~~

Usually Eddie spent ages deciding what to wear for stuff like this, but it was a lot harder to take clothes on and off these days, so he quickly pivoted to messing with his hair for half an hour to expel the nervous energy.

Steve’s car pulled up and he knocked at the door.  Robin watched from the passenger seat, wide eyed, as Steve helped him to the car.

It was a longer drive than most he took these days, and he was thankful for Steve and Robin bickering almost the whole way there.  For best friends they sure did argue a lot.  He could relate to that.  He used to tease his friends at school all the time.

It took Steve a while to find a parking spot that wasn’t super far away from the bar.  Eventually he turned around in his seat and talked to Eddie about pushing him down the sidewalk instead of circling the place like vultures until someone close to the building left, and Eddie agreed to that.

It was immediately clear that this was a gay bar, drag queens and all.  Eddie wasn’t shocked per say, but he was surprised.  He wondered which of his two friends found this place and when.

It also, like Steve told him earlier, was packed.  Steve still pushed his chair, and even though he was maneuvering carefully, nobody else in the room was looking down.  Several people bumped into him, or pushed a chair back into Steve, jumping away if they noticed why there was traffic.  Two men stood close together at the bar leaned closer and whispered to each other as Eddie and his friends passed, giggling and taking what they probably thought were very subtle glances in Eddie's direction.  Eddie overheard something about whether or not his dick worked and the two laughed.

Eddie never considered himself a shy person, or one to back down from someone being an asshole, but he shrank, not sure if his face was more red from anger or embarrassment.

Steve brought the three of them up to a table and let go of Eddie.  He asked what the two of them wanted to drink and headed to the counter.  Robin sat down across from him, clearly uncomfortable.  He wasn’t sure if it was because of him or on his behalf.  Someone moved his chair by the handles to get between two tables and he swatted their hands away, locking his wheels, but they had already disappeared into the crowd.

A guy came up to him from the right.  He was tall and hairy, and he asked if he could join them or if Robin was his date and he was totally lost.  Eddie didn’t get to respond before the guy sat down.

“Hi there!  That’s a pretty neat jacket,” he said with a wide smile.

Eddie didn’t get out of Hawkins much even before the Upside Down.  But when he did, people in bars usually avoided him.  Found him intimidating.  Or if they approached, they hit on him.  He wasn’t sure why this guy was talking to him like they were acquaintances catching up at the grocery store when they were in the middle of a gay bar.

“So, what are you doing here tonight?  What’s this all about?”  He motioned to Eddie’s wheelchair.  “Looks really intense.”

This was why Eddie always used to talk so loud, dress louder.  Nobody ever used to talk to him like this, like he owed them something, minus maybe Mrs. Click.  He tried to muster that volume, that anger, aim it like a weapon, but there was just too much embarrassment on top of it all.

Robin butted in, said something about their friend sitting there, actually, and it was then that Steve finally came back, looking more pissed than he’d probably ever seen him before.  And there was no way in hell he even heard what that guy was saying all the way across the room over the music, not even taking his hearing loss into account.

The guy apologized and scrammed when Steve set their drinks down.

“Who the hell was that?”

Eddie realized he didn’t even say his name.

Robin pulled a mini notebook out of her purse and began furiously scribbling in it.  She showed it to Steve who frowned deeper.

A woman with a pixie cut came up to their table and greeted Robin, who froze.  Her mouth dropped open and she stuttered through the conversation, eventually looking to Steve for something, who shook his head.  He turned to the girl, and said, “She’d love to!  Go have fun!”

Robin still looked nervous, and maybe a bit mad at Steve, but her face was also beet red as the stranger took her hand and led her to the dance floor.  Steve watched with a smile.

Eddie reached for the notebook still sitting on the table, and scribbled down a quick good for her.

Steve smiled at him warmly, then frowned, staring at the notebook..

“I, uh.  Did… Did Robin tell you?” Steve said, sheepish.

Eddie wasn’t sure what he meant.

“My hearing.  It’s… it’s not what it used to be.  It’s not a big deal.  Like, I manage, right?  It sucks, but.  She’s making this big deal out of it.”

Is she treating you different? Eddie wrote in the notebook.

Steve’s brows furrowed.  “No,” he said after a pause.  “Well I mean, there’s this whole thing,” he gestured to the notebook.  “But, that’s fine I guess.  It’s just, I feel like it’s silly, right?  To need that.”

Eddie thought for a moment.

Does it help?

Steve’s brows furrowed again.  He nodded.

“Like I can hear.  I hear stuff all the time.  I thought I was just going crazy at first.  I would just miss these little things.  Maybe half a sentence.  I can work with that.  But then there’s times like this,” Steve said, motioning to the bar around them, “and I get.  I just get nothing.  I just had to like, cross my fingers the bartender heard me right when he repeated my order.  Or at least, I think that’s what he was saying.”  He mumbled the last part, almost to himself.

Steve changed the subject then, but the two of them talked like that for another hour or two.  Steve had this beautiful smile when he laughed, and Eddie realized he was kind of fucked.

~~~

A couple days after the trip to Indy, a pickup truck pulled up outside his house that he didn’t recognize.  It lurched and creeped the whole way up the hill, and Eddie watched out his front window as Steve clung onto the passenger side door for dear life, face pale, Robin smiling wide in the driver’s seat.

Eddie opened the door and was surprised by the breeze, warm for November air.  Steve and Robin got out wearing light jackets, and started hauling lumber and power tools from the trunk.

Steve approached him, and explained that Robin wanted to build a ramp for Eddie’s front porch.  He joked that he was surprised they made it there alive.  Eddie wasn’t sure what to say.

“Is that okay?”  Steve made a pained expression, “I told her we should ask first, but the tools are all rented so it wouldn’t be a big deal to just,” he pointed over his shoulder with his thumb.

Eddie thought about it.  Looked at the step down from his house.  He felt a mix of hope and warmth and guilt.

“Could be worth a shot.”

Eddie tamped down his feelings and grabbed them a couple glasses of water while they worked, eager for something to do besides just sit there and watch.  He told Robin he was surprised she knew how to work with this stuff, and she went on a rant about women being just as capable of building stuff as anyone else, and then berated him for forgetting her three years working stage crew, Munson.

The ramp was… not perfect.  It didn’t look great.  It was still difficult to get out the front door.  But it wasn’t too steep, it was wide enough, and they put a railing next to it for leverage.

It was better.

Part 6

[kazistired]

Everyone I know should read this and I wanna be here for part 5 when it comes out

cw: ableism, depression

~~~

Eddie always tried not to dream too big.  He grew up poor, with shitty parents, so he learned pretty early on to prepare for disappointment if he ever asked for or wanted something, even non material wants, like love.

It didn’t always work, though.  His teachers always said he had his head in the clouds.  He dreamed of becoming a rockstar, getting married with kids afterwards.  Moving into a big house with a dog and a yard.

And he knew, really, it was silly.  But he thought maybe he could get bits and pieces of that if not the whole thing.  Maybe he would never have his dream job, but he could do something similar.  Play his guitar at bars on the weekend, teach kids music lessons, or work at a record shop.

Maybe he would never find someone who could put up with all his dramatics and energy full time, but he’d have a girlfriend, eventually, for a while.

And here he was.  Couldn’t even sell weed anymore, couldn’t get out of bed without help sometimes, could barely get out of the house without help, certainly couldn’t drive.  The new trailer didn’t even have steps, it had ONE step.  And that was enough to stop him from moving up and down with a wheelchair.

ONE step.

The bathroom door was too narrow to fit through with it.  He had to hold his piss sometimes when he didn’t have the energy to get all the way there without his chair.

He knew he was a financial burden on Wayne.  The government paid off most of his medical bills, and for their new home, but that wasn’t gonna cut it forever.  Especially if Wayne kept insisting on him continuing physical therapy.

He wondered what they told him.  If Wayne really thought he could ever walk again, more than across a room or from the door to the car.

Eddie did, at first.  Again, dreaming too big.

The doctors were honest with him, even if his heart wasn’t.  He’d be in pain probably the rest of his life.  Things would get better, but he’d probably always need his chair, at least sometimes.

Things were awkward, with his friends.  They didn’t get it.  He didn’t expect them to, and it’s not like they ever talked about feelings and shit anyway.  They didn’t think he killed Chrissy, he was pretty sure, and they weren’t super weird about how he got jumpy sometimes, but they’d get so awkward.  He’d move past them in his chair, and they’d cast their eyes to the floor, trying not to look at it.  Stopped inviting him places when half the time they’d show up and there’d be no ramp, or the ramp would be too steep, or too narrow to actually get up it.  Or they’d have to talk to five different employees to find the one who knew how to work the automatic door in the back of the building by the dumpster.

Not to mention how he often needed help just getting out of the car.  And how he ALWAYS needed a ride.

So they stopped talking to him, more or less.  The Party did still, kind of.  Dustin was always going on about Eddie’s exercises, and telling him how he can still do anything if he sets his mind to it, that that’s what they always said at science camp.

He means well, but Eddie doesn’t know how to tell him he’s already trying so, so hard.  That this is him at a hundred and ten percent.  That not every problem is something you can fix.

So, Eddie spends a lot of time alone, in his room, exhausted, too tired to even write music or work on campaigns - stuff you can do lying down - half the time.

Except on Thursdays.  Thursdays, Steve drove him to his physical therapy appointments.  It honestly felt kind of pathetic how much he looked forward to sitting in a car mostly in silence for thirty minutes a week.  He tried putting on music sometimes, but Steve always turned it off, and Eddie?  He’s too tired to fight over stuff like that anymore.

And Steve didn’t want to talk, it seemed.  People didn’t usually ignore him when he spoke these days, but Steve almost always did.  And Eddie didn’t care, really.  Again, lowering his expectations.

That was until this Thursday, anyway.  Sitting in silence, Eddie noticed a plastic bag by his feet in Steve’s normally pristine car, and Steve snatched it out of his hands when he tried to pick it up.

“Sorry, I uh, forgot to clean that up,” he said, and stuffed it in the center console.

Parked at the physical therapy place, Steve got out of the car to get Eddie’s chair out, and one of the older women who went here sucked him into a conversation Eddie was half listening to through the closed doors.  He glanced in the rear view mirror, and noted that Steve was facing away from the car.

Eddie looked at the center console, considering.  He popped it open and inspected the bag.  Inside was a stapled sheet of printer paper and a brochure.  Eddie frowned, and stuffed everything back in the bin as the woman left and Steve popped the trunk.

The brochure was information about hearing loss.

Steve helped him out of the car, and held the door for him into the building as usual.  Eddie noted how, despite being unusually quiet, Steve still treated him pretty normally, compared to some of their other friends.

Eddie didn’t get much done during his appointment.

~~~

Edit: Now had a part two; part three; part four