#background hellcheer

[runraerun]

AO3 • Harringrove & HellCheer • Rating: T • Beta: @dame-zoom-a-lot • Warnings: Angst with a happy ending, Homophobic language, Implied Child Abuse, Neil Hargrove.• Tags: The Fruity Four but it’s Steve, Billy, Chrissy and Eddie. Fuck gender norms. Chrissy and Billy blonde bombshell solidarity, Billy Hargrove Centric, Platonic Steddie, Platonic CaliCheer, but Eddie is so bisexual in this it’s crazy. Lots of fluff but lots of angst. Feminization. SFW.

*Written for @harringrovekinktober 2024!🎃 I spun: Feminization at Steve’s house!✨ (even though this turned into Flufftober. I’m so sorry.)

Summary:

“Do my eyes?” Billy mutters around his cigarette, “What the fuck does that even mean?”

“With make-up.” Chrissy clarifies easily.

And with that, Billy nearly sucks back the cigarette dangling between his lips. He coughs, and coughs, and then coughs some more. Has to fucking lean forward to catch his breath, feeling a lot like he did when he first tried that stolen cigarette from his dad at the tender age of twelve. He uses the back of his hand to wipe away the stray tears that had eked their way out during his fit. “No. Absolutely not. No fucking way.”

Eddie perks up, “Ooh. The gentleman doth protest too much, methinks.”

“What the fuck’d you just call me?” Billy croaks, his voice still a little ragged from his coughing.

Or, Chrissy convinces Billy to let her put makeup on him. 💋

“Has anyone ever told you that you have really pretty eyes, Billy?” Chrissy asks from across the fire pit. She’s tucked up under Eddie’s arm, their fingers threaded together over her shoulder.

Billy snorts, “not recently, no.”

He and Steve aren’t nearly as tangled up as the pair across from them are, even though technically they’ve been together longer than Chrissy and Eddie have—which automatically makes them the superior couple, obviously. But… he and Steve don’t really do the whole PDA thing, even when they’re in ‘safe’ company. A lifetime of having to hide will do that. It’s a tough habit to break.

But he and Steve are sitting side by side, their knees pressed against the other’s, and Billy’s got an arm slung behind Steve, resting along the back of the wicker loveseat they’re squashed onto. Steve’s even got a hand high up on Billy’s thigh, fingers clamping down every so often. Under the security of their shared blanket, of course. And that’s enough for Billy. More than he ever thought he’d get to have, if he’s being honest.

Eddie shoots Steve with a look of disbelief, like he’d caught him red handed at something truly reprehensible. “For shame, Stevie. For shame! You’re a bad boyfriend!”

“What? I—well, listen, I think Billy’s eyes great! I just—” Steve flounders before he turns to look at Billy, red in the cheeks. “I’m sure I’ve said something about your eyes before. Haven’t I?”

“Maybe. I don’t remember.” Billy shrugs, a little embarrassed. In truth, Billy remembers every compliment that Steve’s ever paid him. His chest, his ass, his arms—but never his eyes. Not that it’s a sore point for him or anything, it was just one of the things Steve hasn’t remarked on.

“Shit, does that make me a bad boyfriend?” Steve lets his head fall back against the meat of Billy’s arm and groans. “I’m sorry. Your eyes are great. Really! They work great too. Remember that time you spotted a quarter across the parking lot? Incredible.”

Billy feels his ears heat up. With a roll of his eyes, he growls at Steve, “don’t hurt yourself, Harrington.”

“I’m being serious!” Steve laughs, voice going high with guilt, and it gets everyone else chuckling too.

“Well, I think they’re a really beautiful shade of blue. And your lashes are so dark. Do you tint them?” Chrissy asks, eye’s focused solely on him.

Billy ducks his head, sort of hating this sort of scrutiny. He’s fine with being the center of attention if he’s playing basketball or balancing on top of a keg, but sitting here like this? It’s�� weird. Too intimate. Billy clears his throat, “look, I’m flattered, Chrissy, really, but your boy is literally right fucking next to you.”

“It’s okay, she’s right; you do have really pretty eyes.” Munson winks as he takes another drag from his joint.

“Jesus…” Billy shakes his head and follows suit, though he’s just smoking a cigarette. Such is the fate of being the designated-sober-guy for the night.

“So you don’t tint your lashes?” Chrissy asks again.

“I don’t even fucking know what that means.” He mutters around his cigarette.

But Chrissy seems immune to the very clear ‘fuck off’ signals he’s putting out. She continues, “Well, do you dye your hair?”

“No.” He answers quickly, a reflex.

“Billy.” Steve says in a drawn out type of way and a tilt of his head. He levels Billy with a look. The little shit…

“I don’t!” Billy huffs, defensive as he readjusts himself in his seat.

But Munson smells blood in the water, clearly. “Ooh. Tell us what you know, Stevie boy.”

Only then does Steve have the decency to look apologetic, wincing, “I really shouldn’t.”

“Yeah because there’s nothing to tell.” Billy widens his eyes with each passing word in an attempt at conveying his unspoken threat. Steve’s getting dangerously close to being on the receiving end of a purple-nurple.

Eddie begins to chant, “Tell us! Tell us! Tell u—” before Chrissy reached a hand over and pinches his lips shut.

“Shush.” She tuts.

“Go on, ba–Billy. Who cares?” Steve raises his shoulders, trying to appear innocent. He pulls his knee back only to knock it back against Billy’s, urging him on.

Billy growls out a frustrated sigh. But at this point it was inevitable. And it was true–who the fuck cares? It’s just the four of them. And they have a symbiotic, assured mutual destruction sort of relationship going on between them. Steve trusted them enough to tell them about Billy, so Billy supposes he can tell them about something as stupid as his hair care secrets. “Fine! Jesus... I put a little bit of lemon juice in my hair when it’s sunny. It bleaches it a bit over time. Happy, you pack of vultures?”

“Ecstatic.” Eddie mumbles out from behind Chrissy’s hold on his lips.

“Sorry.” Steve mutters, but he doesn’t sound sorry at all. He’s smiling and on the verge of another fit of giggles for Christ's sake.

“Well it looks great. It makes your eyes pop.” Chrissy leans forward, hands on her knees, as if to get a better look at him in the firelight. Billy feels like a damn bug under a magnifying glass.

“And popping eyes are… good?” Billy cocks a brow. Doesn’t sound good. Sounds weird—like something you’d say about Munson, not him.

“Totally!” She says in that high, sweet voice of hers. Then she gasps, like she’s just remembered something important, “you should let me do your eyes!”

His brows pinch as he takes another pull from his cigarette. “Do my eyes?” Billy exhales a thick cloud of white smoke, “What the fuck does that even mean?”

“Do them up, like with make-up.” She clarifies easily.

And with that, Billy nearly sucks back the cigarette dangling between his lips. He coughs, and coughs, and then coughs some more. Has to fucking lean forward to catch his breath, feeling a lot like he did when he first tried that stolen cigarette from his dad at the tender age of twelve. He uses the back of his hand to wipe away the stray tears that had eked their way out during his fit. “No. Absolutely not. No fucking way.”

Eddie perks up, “Ooh. The gentleman doth protest too much, methinks.”

“What the hell’d you just call me?” Billy croaks, his voice still a little ragged from his coughing.

Chrissy continues, ignoring her boyfriend, “You’d look great! I do Eddie’s make up all the time! I’m going to beauty school, y’know. It’s good practice for me.”

In a way Billy isn’t surprised. Eddie is a freak, after all, and the more time he spends with Chrissy the more he’s starting to realize she’s more or less the same.

“Thanks, but hell no. I’m not… like that.” Billy shakes his head, hoping someone would just change the goddamn conversation already.

“It’s just make-up, dude. It’s not a big deal.” Eddie says casually as he stretches his legs out in front of him, a boot propped up on the edge of the firepit. Apparently not caring if the bottom of it melts.

“You really let her paint your face up, Munson?” Billy asks, still trying to wrap his head around what he’s hearing. Because guys didn’t… do that. Queer or not, you didn’t—unless you were… and Billy wasn’t like that! The wires in his head are crossed, he knows that much, but they’re not totally fried, unless Munson’s apparently were.

“Like the London whore!” Eddie bellows out in a truly terrible British accent. “It’s all very Rocky Horror Picture Show when she’s done with me.”

“Jesus Christ… here I thought me and Steve were the queers.” Billy chuckles dryly.

“Hey!” Steve protests, though Billy’s not sure what about. They are queers. Card carrying, cock-sucking pillow-biters, the pair of ‘em. As fucking insane as that still sounds to admit to himself openly…

“It’s fun!” Chrissy exclaims, voice high, defensive.

“Harmless fun!” Eddie reiterates, voice similarly high.

But there’s no fucking way–

“I don’t like shit getting in my eyes.” Billy grunts out stubbornly.

“Now, that is true. He had to use eye-drops for a few days after he scratched his cornea,” Steve tries to tell his story, but he’s already giggling so damn much that he’s barely fucking intelligible. “I had to sit on his chest and hold his eye open while I put the drops in every single time. I felt like I was wrestling a crocodile.”

“Or maybe he just liked you sitting on him.” Eddie eyebrows jump up and down suggestively which only gets Steve laughing harder, nodding along like he was in on the joke. Christ these two are unbearable when they get together…

“Your lips then.” Chrissy cuts the two knuckleheads off, speaking directly to Billy.

Chrissy’s sweet, but there’s no fucking way Billy’s letting her do that to him. Just the idea of it is… well, not only is it totally bonkers, but it wouldn’t even look good. He’s not… feminine. No part of Billy Hargrove could ever even pass a dainty or whatever. He’s bulky, all hard edges and calluses and scars. He knows he’s hot, sure, but Billy’s not beautiful, even if Steve occasionally whispers it when they’re fucking. But Billy’s not stupid. He knows it’s just something you say. It’s not real. Steve doesn’t actually mean it. “I don’t…”

“You should do it.” Steve says, all smiles. His pupils are blown, eyes gone a little glassy with the high. “Why not?”

Billy narrows his eyes at his boyfriend. “You just want me to look stupid.”

Steve frowns, mouth hanging open in his apparent bewilderment, “Wha-? Why the hell would I want that?”

With a jerky, defensive shrug, Billy answers, “because you get weird when you’re high.”

“Sure, maybe—but I don’t get mean. That’s your thing.” Steve pokes a finger to Billy’s chest.

“I’m just gonna go get my makeup bag!” Chrissy chirps, already up on her feet.

“No–Chrissy, I’m not…” Billy tries to call her back, but she ignores him, disappearing into the bright Harrington house behind them.

“Don’t bother trying to stop her, Hargrove. She’s tiny but she always seems to get her way. It’s like her super power.” Eddie passes on his advice, but Billy just rolls his eyes and grumbles something about not rolling over like a bitch.

When Chrissy comes back, it’s with a fucking suitcase, not a bag. She heaves it up onto one of the glass side tables that creaks and groans under the weight. The boys all watch in fascination as she snaps open the clasp and it unfolds its sides, then unfolds again. It was like a fucking magic trick; the case just keeps getting bigger and bigger.

“There.” She says, hands on her hips, seemingly satisfied. “Okay, Steve, move your tush.”

“Chrissy, I’m not–wait, what are you doing?” Billy’s attention goes from Chrissy to his retreating boyfriend, who’s sliding out from under their shared blanket to stand.

“Moving my tush,” answers Steve, “duh.”

“I was thinking of red at first, but now that I’m looking at you up close, it would overwhelm you. Especially since you won’t let me do your eyes,” Chrissy explains as she plops down where Steve had been, sitting on top of their blanket, effectively sealing Billy in, “so maybe pink.” She holds up several tubes of lipstick to his mouth, humming as she goes.

The corners of his mouth pull down as his brows come together, “Pink?”

Eddie shifts to stand, slapping his thighs as he rises. “Okay, I’m stealing your man, Hargrove.” He threads an arm through Steve’s, “Stevie and I are gonna go see which one of us can hold our breath the longest under the water.”

“For the record, I’m just going to make sure he doesn’t drown.” Steve clarifies as Eddie pulls him towards the pool.

“Come find us when you’re done!” Eddie says in a sing-song voice.

Chrissy just waves a hand over her shoulder in response, more a motion to ‘go away’ as opposed to a farewell wave.

“Those two idiots are going to get themselves killed.” Billy murmurs, stone still as Chrissy holds up yet another tube of lipstick, checking the little color sticker stuck on the bottom.

She giggles, “nah, not when we have Hawkins finest lifeguard here to keep us safe.”

Billy scoffs, gets ready to argue about distractions and inebriated states when pop! Chrissy uncaps a tube of lipstick and the words die in his throat.

“Okay, hold still.” She says, and everything in Billy runs cold. He feels like his heart stops beating in his chest. His lungs solidify. He shuts his eyes so he doesn’t see it coming.

But the expected waxy touch doesn’t reach his lips.

“Billy?” Chrissy asks, in her distinct high, soft voice. It’s strangely soothing. Sort of reminds him of–... Well, another pretty blonde lady who helped him put lipstick on. But that feels like a lifetime ago, back before Billy knew to be ashamed of this sort of thing. Back when he was just playing dress up while the house was empty besides just the two of them. “Billy, if you really don’t want to, I won’t make you. You know that, right?”

And there it is; his out.

The thing he wanted and would have taken a few seconds ago, without hesitation. But… if he’s being honest, he sort of hates that she’s gone ahead and offered it up to him like this. Because now Billy has to make the active choice in this whole humiliating ordeal. How much easier would it have been if she would have just forced him? If it remained out of his hands?

But Chrissy isn’t like that. She isn’t actually pushy. No, she’s… Helpful. Like she could see something in Billy, maybe. The same thing his mom saw. Something Neil had spotted at some point too. Maybe that’s why his dad hates him so much.

Chrissy doesn’t hate him though. Even though he was an asshole in high school, and pretty much everyone hated or was afraid of him back then. But now that they’re out of high school, and Billy’s out out, at least to the handful of people here tonight, he’s surrounded by people that don’t hate him, even though they have every right to. It’s still sort of surreal.

And now Chrissy’s sitting here in front of him on her folded legs, with seemingly endless patience—like she’s got all the time in the world for Billy to work through his impossibly complicated shit. Like how actual friends treat each other, maybe. Billy doesn’t really know. The only real friend he’s ever had turned into his boyfriend, so his frame of reference for this sort of shit is probably fucked up beyond recognition.

But maybe they are friends. And you could trust friends, in theory. He could trust Chrissy, in theory.

“No, it’s okay.” Billy swallows, feels his adam's apple bob in his throat, “I don’t care.” He lies as he flicks what little remained of his cigarette into the crackling fire pit beside them.

She beams, looking like pure sunshine even in this dim, flickering firelight. And fuck, she really is too good for Munson; way out of his fucking league. Just like how Steve is way out of Billy’s. But hey, some people just had shitty taste in men, what’re you gonna do?

“Okay. Well, then pull your lips tight over your teeth–oh, not that tight. Just enough that they’re not–yeah, that’s perfect.” Chrissy instructs him gently, doesn’t laugh, doesn’t make him feel the sharp, hot feeling of shame at any point. Then Billy feels the distantly familiar smooth feeling of lipstick over his mouth. He’s already itching for another smoke, but that may just be his nerves acting out.

“Oh yeah, pink is definitely your color. Eddie looks completely washed out in this shade, but you have those nice warm undertones.” She says, pulling the lipstick along his bottom lip now, taking her time around the edges. It feels like she’s going over his lip line, but he doesn’t comment. Doesn’t risk moving his mouth and throwing Chrissy off. She seems to be completely in her zone. “Dollface looks perfect on you.”

“Doll face?” He frowns. Coming out of his mouth it almost sounds like a slur.

“The shade. It’s called Dollface.” She explains as she pulls back a little, and Billy tries very hard not to immediately wipe all of her hard work off on the sleeve of his shirt. “Can I put blush on you too? I have the perfect shade that would match it.”

“I don’t–... I don’t want to look like a clown or anything.” He mutters, hyper conscious of how different his lips feel when he speaks now.

“It’ll be subtle, I promise. Like mine.” She motions towards her own face and Billy has to squint to see what the fuck she’s talking about. But there is a slight peachy tone to the apples of her cheeks, now that he’s looking for it. “I wouldn’t want to cover any of your freckles up, after all. They’re so cute.”

Jesus… He’s never had this many compliments paid to him so fucking quickly, and all on things that no one ever fucking mentioned. Sure, he gets lots of remarks on his ass and his chest, but those were things he worked tirelessly on, spent hours doing squats and pumping iron. But his eyelashes? His freckles? The blue of his eyes? Those weren’t things he earned. They were just… him. Base model, nothing special, piece of shit with anger issues, Billy Hargrove.

But he nods nonetheless. “Okay.”

“Okay.” She repeats with a smile. She leans back towards her magic make-up bag and fishes out a plastic compact that opens up like a clamshell, along with a big fluffy brush. She swishes it around the pigment for a second before tapping off the excess in a colorful cloud. Billy watches her with an enraptured sort of fascination. She grabs a napkin, and a few other sticks of something before she settles back around in front of him again.

“The trick is to suck in your cheeks, like a little fishy.” She says before she demonstrates it.

And even though it feels stupid and embarrassing, he does the ‘little fishy face’ right along with her.

She hums her approval as she swipes the soft bristles against his cheeks. They catch a little on his stubble. He hopes it doesn’t wreck her brush.

“Perfect,” she coos, soft as a dove. Chrissy snaps the clamshell of pink blush shut and puts it aside before she picks up some of her dark pencils. “Now, I know you said you didn’t want anything in your eyes, but I thought maybe we could try just a water line? You don’t need to, but I promise it won’t go anywhere near your actual eyeball, just your lower lash line. It would really pull the whole look together.”

Billy frowns. Hasn’t he given enough?

Sensing his hesitation, Chrissy continues to plead her case, “it might just tickle, a teeny tiny bit. And if you don’t like it, I’ll stop right away. Deal?”

He hesitates, running his tongue along his teeth as he mulls it over. “It won’t touch my eye at all?”

“Nope. I’ll hug the outside of your lid, I promise. You just gotta stay super still for me, okay? And it washes right off. One lap around the pool and it’ll probably be all gone once you get out.”

Oh, right. Billy had forgotten about how he was going to get this gunk off. He had work tomorrow, and he couldn’t exactly show up at the pool looking like… well. Whatever he looked like now. Billy wasn’t exactly sure. It made his insides squirm.

“Fine. As long as it’s quick.” Billy huffs, readjusting his legs so that they didn’t fall asleep on him.

“Quick as a bunny!” She uncaps the pencil and leans forward.

Her hands are back on his face–only this time she’s pulling down at the skin where his eye bags usually form if he doesn't get enough sleep. Billy expects it to hurt, or maybe to burn a little, but she’s right; it just tickles. He flinches when the cool tip of the pencil initially hits the sensitive skin of his lower lid, but Chrissy remains as patient as a saint, and just waits for him to stop blinking before she tries again. And this time Billy knows what to expect, so Chrissy’s able to do a full swipe, left to right, focusing a little on the outer edge, before she moves onto the next eye and does the same.

“Now,” She murmurs as she retrieves the napkin, “kiss this.”

He screws his face up, “what?”

“To get the excess off. And it makes the lipstick last longer.” She waves the bit of tissue in his face. “Trust me, I’m almost an expert.”

Billy sincerely has his doubts, but he kisses the tissue, blotting his lipstick. It still feels like a lot is left on his mouth, but it doesn’t feel as… heavy. Sort of feels nice, actually. And when he pulls the napkin away it’s marked the perfect imprint of his pink kiss. If he didn’t just finish making it himself he wouldn’t have thought his lips were even capable…

“Do you want gloss?” Chrissy asks, pulling him from his fog.

“Won’t that ruin the—“ Billy points towards his mouth, “this layer?”

She shakes her head, sending her blonde ponytail into motion behind her, “No, it sort of just seals it. And bonus, it tastes like bubblegum.”

Steve likes bubblegum.

“Alright.” He says quickly, with a jerky sort of shrug. He’s already made it this far, he might as well see it through all the way. And it’s not like he’s going to do this again or anything… may as well go full hog.

So she pulls out a wand coated in the clear looking gel and does a final swipe over the top of his lips with it. It feels sort of sticky. And now that it’s sitting under his nose, he really can smell the bubblegum.

“Done!” Chrissy exclaims as she pulls her hands away. She holds them up and away from Billy, as if to reassure him that she’s finished with her torture. “Smile for me so I know I didn’t get anything on your teeth.”

And there’s no way he can give Chrissy anything remotely genuine at the moment, so Billy simply bares his teeth for her to inspect.

“No lipstick on your teeth. And I think I did a pretty good job, if I do say so myself.” Chrissy says, admiring her handiwork.

“Yeah?” Billy clears his throat, not knowing where to look. Eddie and Steve are still busy splashing and shoving each other in the pool, so at least he doesn’t need to worry about them. “I don’t look too stupid?”

She smacks his arm with the back of her hand, “You don’t look stupid at all, silly. You look great!” She then starts tidying up her makeup, putting everything back in its proper place. Billy watches her with the same fascination as he did while she was taking it out.

“Your mom teach you this shit?” Billy asks.

She frowns, just a little. “Some of it.”

He nods. His leg bounces. Resists the urge to rub at his eyes. The hard shells of Chrissy’s makeup containers clack together as she rearranges them.

“My mom used to—“ Billy mumbles, quiet enough that he very much doubts Chrissy had even heard him, but when he looks up, she’s stopped putting her things away, and her eyes are on him. Waiting for him to go on.

He clears his throat, doesn’t even know why he’s confessing this to her, but a strange compulsion seems to have taken over him. He feels the words right at the tip of his tongue before he can think to bury them back down, back to somewhere deep within himself. “My mom used to do this for me sometimes. When I was really little.”

It’s something that should be embarrassing. Something to laugh at, like the punchline of a joke. But Chrissy doesn’t laugh. She smiles gently. “Those sound like happy memories.”

Billy frowns—he’d never thought of them as happy, per se. More embarrassing than anything else. Something he can’t look in the eye. Billy ducks his head, feels his eyes sting. He should stop, he knows. Just shut the hell up. Because why the hell is he getting himself worked up over a dumb childhood memory in front of some chick he barely knows? It’s stupid.

And yet, the idea of not saying more seems even more unbearable than eating his words.

“I’d ask her to, when she was in the mirror getting ready or whatever.” Billy explains, daring to meet her eye before retreating to somewhere off in the distance. “This was before I knew it was, y’know… not something boys did. My dad made sure I knew it though, after he caught us. I didn’t ask after that.”

The truth of it is, maybe those memories could have been happy if they didn’t exist exclusively under the shadow of Neil. He can’t picture his mom’s smiling face without also picturing Neil’s disgusted one. Can’t remember how it felt having the make up on his face when the bruises lasted so much longer. He can’t hear the soft words his mom had whispered to him over the roar of the awful names Neil called him afterwards—the ones he never stopped calling him. It’s no wonder Billy’s so goddamn fucked in the head.

Then, there’s a hand slipping overtop of his, small and soft, squeezing against his rough, calloused ones. “I’m sorry.”

Billy feels a rush of emotions, but he’s not entirely sure which direction they’re flowing. Hot or cold.

Part of him wants to stand up and scream at Chrissy that he doesn’t need her fucking pity—that Billy Hargrove doesn’t want anyone feeling sorry for him, that sympathy is for the weak—and Billy isn’t weak.

Some shit Neil would do.

But in the moment, Billy can’t find the strength to do any of it. He just sits there and squeezes her hand back. So maybe he is weak after all.

“My parents were tough on me too,” Chrissy explains, keeping her voice low. “I sort of always felt like a disappointment to them.”

”You?” Billy scoffs, his voice frustratingly shakey, “you’re like, perfect.”

“Yeah, well, some parents are dummies. They get all upset when their kid turns out differently than how they expected.” Chrissy says with a tilt of her head. And Billy knows she isn’t just talking about her own mom and dad. “Dumb, right?”

Billy nods as he sniffs back any congestion that dared try and accumulate in his nose, along with the tears he doesn’t let fall. He blinks a few times, letting the air take them. “Yeah, real fuckin’ dumb.”

Chrissy smiles, and it’s like she’s beaming. Too fucking good for Munson, Billy thinks again as she stands, bringing him along with her by way of their clasped hands. “You ready to show the boys?”

A new wave of uncertainty hits Billy straight in the gut, but he keeps pace with her. ”You sure I don’t look stupid?”

“I’m positive. You should trust me, Billy. I’m like, really smart.” Chrissy insists, a playful giggle on the edge of her words.

Billy scoffs in response, but he doesn’t bother arguing. She is smart. Smarter than the rest of them combined, most likely.

When they approach the pool, Steve and Eddie are so preoccupied with staying underwater they don’t even notice Chrissy and him. Which suits Billy just fine; he doesn’t want to draw any more attention to his painted face than it was already inevitably going to get. They just slip into the shallow end and wait for the other two to come up for air. Or drown.

It’s Eddie that breaks the surface first in a flurry of splashing and gasping breaths. He’d probably catch his breath faster if he stopped cursing for a second, but Eddie’s got one of those mouths that never fucking stops.

Steve is the second to rise out of the water. While Eddie looks like a drowned fucking rat, Steve looks like he’s materialized out of a copy of Sports Illustrated as usual. His hair’s slicked back, but he gives it a good shake and briefly runs his fingers through the strands, somehow making it look just as good as always. God’s fucking favourite, that one.

Billy’s gotta look away because sometimes it’s even too much for him to take in.

“You cheated.” Eddie accuses Steve.

“Yeah, I cheated by not smoking a pack a day for the past four years like you have.” Steve snorts as he backstrokes to the shallow end, followed by Eddie’s doggy paddle.

“So he admits to cheating. I want that on record.” Eddie calls over to Chrissy and Billy, who’ve propped themselves up on the stone steps leading into the pool, patiently (or, impatiently if Billy’s being honest) waiting.

Steve flips around when his feet can touch, and immediately locks eyes on Billy. And then he just. Stares.

God, Billy really wishes he weren’t sober for this. That was sort of an oversight on his part. Hell, he hadn’t even grabbed a cigarette on his way over so he’s got nothing to do with his hands besides letting them hang by his side, his elbows propping him up behind him.

“Holy shit…” Steve mutters, coming towards him like he’s locked in some kind of weird tractor beam.

“Looking good, Hargrove.” Munson says as he crowds Chrissy, who doesn’t seem put off by the attention. In fact, she sort of lights up under it. So weird. “I almost couldn’t tell you two sexy blondes apart.” He winks.

Billy rolls his eyes, grimacing at the remark. He makes a mental note to give Munson a Charlie horse the next time he’s within arms reach. But when his eyes return to Steve’s, he’s… like, struck stupid or something.

“You kill off one too many of your brain cells under the water, pretty boy?” Billy quirks a brow, trying to give what he hopes is a sharp grin, even from behind his pink lips. “You and I both know you can’t afford to lose anym—“

Then Steve’s kissing him.

Actually kissing him.

In front of people.

…They’ve never done that before. Not ever. Not that they’d ever talked about it, but they didn’t need to. Because Steve and Billy didn’t do PDA. It just isn’t in the cards for them. And yet—

Steve seems to hear Billy’s internal struggle and pulls away, taking some of Billy’s bubblegum lip gloss with him, looking a little sheepish as he licks his lips. “Sorry. I couldn’t really control myself there for a second.”

“You’re hanging around with Eddie too much.” Chrissy laughs, and is rewarded by a playful bite to the cheek from Munson, as if to prove her point of his impulsivity.

“You just look so… good.” Steve admits, and Billy’s stomach doesn’t do an entire flip inside of him. It doesn’t. He’s fine. “You look beau—”

“Don’t.” Billy cuts in. He’s already exposed enough, he doesn’t need Steve to wax poetically about his fucking beauty in front of an audience. Even if it is just Chrissy and Eddie.

“But you do!” Steve insists, smiling, going all syrupy on him. Must still be feeling the effect of that joint from earlier.

”I swear to god, Harrington, I will drown you.” Billy gets his hands on Steve’s biceps and keeps him at bay. Steve pouts and whines.

Yep, definitely still high.

“Good luck, he can stay under for like four whole minutes.” Eddie mutters, still sulking about his defeat. Steve throws him a long suffering roll of his eyes.

“C’mon, let’s see if you can win back your dignity with a game of chicken.” Chrissy all but shoves Eddie off. He’s like a fucking leech. Though Steve isn’t too far off at the moment.

“You know I’ll never say no to having your legs wrapped around my head, sweetheart.” Eddie swoons and even Steve has the decency to balk at the audacity.

“Alright, you take shoulders.” Billy sighs as he pushes off the hard steps. He’s a way sturdier bottom than Steve could ever hope to be.

When Steve doesn’t answer, Billy claps his hands on either side of the column of Steve’s neck, hoping the hit’ll knock a little sense into Steve’s oxygen deprived brain. “Hey, you with me, amigo?”

“Yeah, yeah, of course,” Steve finally sputters out, still unable to break eye contact, “Always, baby.”

Billy ignores the way it makes every inch of him feel warm, and fucking. Cherished. God damn. Harrington really is going to be the death of him.

By the time their game of water chicken has wrapped, Billy’s been thoroughly soaked so there’s not much makeup left on his face, save for a slight pink residue on the lines of his lips. It’s for the best, he thinks. It didn’t look right on him anyway…

But when Chrissy’s hugging him goodbye, she not-so-subtly slips Dollface into his pocket and pulls away with a cheeky, knowing sort of grin. He almost cracks a smile before Eddie is glomming onto him, insisting he also is in dire need of a goodbye hug.

Billy shoves him off before he gets too comfortable, and Eddie folds with a manic, downright deranged laugh that somehow, against all odds, seems to be growing on Billy. Will wonders never fucking cease?

Later that night, before going to sleep next to Steve, he puts the tube of lipstick into the top drawer in Steve’s bathroom. Knows it’ll be safe there, like every other god forsaken thing Billy’s given him—including his busted up, worn down, hardened heart—Steve always keeps whatever Billy gives him safe.

[justhere4thevibez]

Gonna Watch You Shine ch 3

“Alright, who wants to tell me what the hell’s going on here?” he asked.

Immediately, all of the boys jumped in with their varying accounts of the fight that had transpired, but Hopper was mostly focused on Chrissy, who looked almost green and seemed to be trying to become one with the wallpaper.

“Hold it,” he said, raising his hand to stop them. “Chrissy, it seems like quite a bit of this disagreement centers around you. You want to go first?”

Miserably, she shook her head. “No, sir.”

She was so quiet he saw her mouth form the words more than he heard her speak them, but her body language was all too clear. More interestingly, though, the Munson kid took a step toward her, as if he wanted to shield her from everyone’s stares. Hopper would have to keep an eye on that.

[1lostsoul0fishbowl]

Next Time I Fall, chapter 21 posted!

Eddie helps Gareth deal with the aftermath of yet another freaky spring break, and El (with a little help from Chrissy) manages at last to lay all his fears to rest.

Read it here on Ao3!

[empress-of-snark]

but I’m in so deep

you know, I’m such a fool for you

you’ve got me wrapped around your finger

do you have to let it linger?

stranger things rarepair collection

[heavencasteel420]

My desire to write a failed St4ncy revival in a fic isn’t about spite, by the way. I am genuinely fascinated by the idea of what happens when that relationship encounters any kind of sustained non-monster-fighting reality.

[nburkhardt]

🔀 Buckingham

I think you’ll enjoy this!!

If It’s Love - Train + Buckingham + College AU =

🫶🩷🌷☀️

After everything, not only did Robin make it out but so did Chrissy. They decide to go to college together with their best friends. They’re blurring the line of friendship to lovers.

Chrissy decides Robin is it for her even with everything else trying to work against her. Her parents, the past, the world. It’s love for her and she’ll be damn to let Robin go.

They’re in love and it’s everything for them.

(We’re going with Chrissy lives au btw. Don’t ask me how. I went with a simple way on this one lol. Anyone can use!)

send me a 🔀 and a pairing, and i’ll shuffle my playlist and make an au based on the first song that comes up

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @steddieholidaydrabbles.

Gossip Is Currency

Prompt Day 21: Formal | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: T | CW: Language, Canon Background Stancy | Tags: Missing Scene from S2's The Pollywog, Post-Halloween "Bullshit" Scene, Pre-Steddie, Platonic Hellcheer, School Sucks, Eddie Knows

This is cruel and unusual punishment. 

Eddie sits on the stupid folding chair, behind the stupid folding table, with a stack of tickets to sell to the winter formal. It was this or another suspension, and it was only because he was sure Wayne would not appreciate not having to talk to the principal again anytime soon, that Eddie chose this option.

They've got bubbly cheerleader Chrissy Cunningham sitting next to him controlling the money box that they definitely didn't trust him to be anywhere near, as they try to sell tickets to the kids still roaming around during extracurriculars.

Chrissy hasn't said anything to him after greeting him, and he hasn't said anything in return. They hung out once before, during a middle school talent show, but he doesn't expect that she remembers that.

Another shitty jock walks up.

"Two?" Chrissy asks.

"Yeah," the kid answers, and she takes the money, makes the change, and all Eddie has to do is hand over the two ticket stubs.

He resents it. 

It's stupid, it's–

"It's bullshit," he hears from down the hall.

Yeah, it's exactly that.

And hell's frozen over, if he agrees with King Steve.

Harrington's in some sort of heated debate with Wheeler as they stomp down the hallway, bickering back and forth. She's a fucking firebrand, that one. Everyone thinks she's a priss, but oh no, Eddie's studied this whole school long enough to know that's not even remotely true.

Harrington's gonna get knocked down a peg or two under her, and deservedly so.

Seeing them coming in his direction is at least interesting. Eddie tears off the two tickets and hands them over to Tweedle Dumb, and keeps watching the free show heading his way.

"Winter formal tickets?" Chrissy asks Harrington, and Jesus H. Christ, does she have no observation skills? Now is not the time. This is the time to blend into the wall so they can get the dirty fucking details on this fight. Gossip is currency.

Harrington turns to look at them, and shakes his head no. He looks more sad than mad, and that isn't near as fun. 

"Steve," Wheeler says, and she looks annoyed.

Harrington runs his hands through his hair, tugging at the ends, and then they're gone. 

Well, that was uneventful in the end. He didn't learn anything worth repeating.

Eddie had heard rumors of a Halloween night blow-up, but wasn't there to see it with his own eyes. Apparently they're still in a tiff today.

He can still hear the echo of them around the corner and down the hall, and well, he's nosey. It pays to know everything that's going on in this school.

"Be right back," Eddie says, and follows them down the hall, with the excuse that he's heading to the pop machine.

He digs four quarters out of his pocket, and pretends it's hard to make a decision, before hitting the Mellow Yellow button. The machine whirrs to life, and the can drops down. He feeds the other two quarters in, still trying to listen to Harrington and Wheeler fussing by the double-doors.

Eddie can't really decipher much besides hissing mumbles. Damn.

He presses another button without even really paying attention.

Welch's Grape Soda.

He might actually pick that over the Mellow Yellow he thought he originally wanted.

Harrington and Wheeler leave, so Eddie takes both cans back towards the table, holding them up, an offer, "You want?"

Chrissy smiles, "Really?"

Eddie nods, "You choose," he says, and she falters, just a bit, looking up at him like there might be a wrong answer.

There's no wrong answer here. No trick. He puts them both down on the table, "Totally fine either way."

She reaches for the grape, and is still looking his way. He nods, "Excellent choice," as he picks up the Mellow Yellow, and cracks open the can.

"Thanks, Eddie," she says, like he's given her something more than a can of pop. Carver's a bigger dick than he'd realized, apparently. 

They sit in silence, waiting for more kids to finish up with their stupid clubs and practices. 

The door clangs closed on the other end of the school, and they wait. It's Harrington again. He crosses the hall intersection in his little shorts, and Eddie can see that he's pinching his nose as he darts out of their line of sight as quickly as he entered.

Then it's just them, alone in the hallway again.

"She called him bullshit," Chrissy whispers.

Eddie turns and looks at her, waiting for her to elaborate.

She does.

"On Halloween. At Tina's party. She called him and his love bullshit. I heard it myself, waiting for the bathroom. She was drunk, not making sense about Barb Holland. It was pretty mean."

"No shit?" he asks, leaning closer. 

She nods, giving him a rundown of the whole party. She's got all the good gossip, not just about Harrington and Wheeler's dust up. Eddie feels a twinge of something. 

He's well acquainted with being shit on publicly.

Nobody's around this school, and Eddie gets up to go take a piss. He can't sit still. Hates it. And doing it for this is a special version of hell.

He walks down the hall, to the bathroom. He stands in front of the urinal, unzips and is pissing when he hears the stifled cough from behind him.

Eddie turns to look and sees familiar shoes under the stall door.

Tucking himself back in, re-zipping, he reaches over and flushes the urinal.

"Harrington," Eddie says. 

He waits and there's no response. 

"Harrington," he tries again.

"Go away, Munson," Harrington says, and then mumbles under his breath, "It's bullshit. I'm bullshit."

Eddie takes three steps towards the door, then impulsively turns back.

"She's wrong, you know? You're not bullshit."

And then Eddie waits a beat before adding, "You're just an asshole."

Steve chuckles, and Eddie smiles to himself as he turns and heads out the door.

Timing is everything. 

Mission accomplished.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddieholidaydrabbles and follow along with the fun!

[hotluncheddie]

For the lovely @sidekick-hero as part of @steddiesummerexchange

Using the prompt 'meet ugly' which was so fun and pushed me to do some new stuff! so thank you! i hope you enjoy!! 🫂

Ao3 | wc: 6.2k | rated: M | cw: panic attacks | tags: 90's AU, No Upside down, Meet-ugly, Platonic Hellcheer, Background Buckingham, Rockstar Eddie Munson, Yoga Instructor Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson needs a hug

₊✩‧₊

‘Munson, this, there’s nothing here man.’ His manager sighs, looking over Eddie’s scribbled notes. 

Eddie sucks another lungful of his cigarette. arms and legs crossed on the too soft office sofa, foot tapping. 

He knows. 

Of course he knows. 

It’s shit. 

All of it. 

Disjointed song ideas and cord progressions that don’t work outside of a shitty blue grass wannabe and the weird none metal bullshit that somehow got him here; that people keep insisting is grunge.

‘You have till mid June, ready for Lollapalooza in July. Label said so.’ And Jake is a good guy, a good manager, but Eddie wants to rip his skin off and never see this ugly fucking Chicago office building or anyone in it. Ever. Again. 

He wants to write. He wants to create, and perform. 

But he can’t. 

It all shit. There’s nothing here. 

-

He speeds down the interstate. Foot pressing on the accelerator, pressing steadily harder and harder. The speedometer ticking up 10mph, more, 20, more. 

‘Shit, fuck.’ Eddie curses, trying to light the cigarette at his lips. Lighter sparking but no quick catching flame, just the click and fizz, dead. ‘Stupid. Fucking.’ He sniffs, scrubbing at his eyes, tears leaving sticky tracks across his cheeks. 

‘FUCKER!’ He shouts, throwing the shitty bic lighter out of the passenger window, into the inky blackness, scrubbing at his eyes again. 

He can’t fucking see. He needs a fucking cigarette. 

He’s running out of gas, fast. Rain starting to fall, heavy and sleeting. His hissy fit can’t last forever, but the itch is still under his skin. Mind blank to anything that could be remotely useful. He’s so creatively drained it’s a joke. A mean fucking joke handed out by god himself. 

Because Eddie had his whole life to write that album. To pour his brain out and stick it together into a mangled beautiful little thing. 

And now he’s expected to do the same thing. In months. 

And he knows. He knows, it’s possible, and it’s been done, and he has thoughts and feeling and music left inside him. 

But it’s hard. And he’s scared. 

Eddie doesn’t think he’ll ever write another song again. Dry to the bone. Like his Dad always expected. Always knew. Knew he had nothing in him. Good for nothin’. 

Snot drips onto his top lip. He, he can’t see. ‘Fuck.’ He whispers - he. 

The lights of a gas station shine up ahead. 

Tiredness dripping down into his bones, suddenly. 

Eddie pulls off, parks off at the side. 

Punches the steering wheel till his knuckles go bloody. 

‘W-wayne ‘m sorry, I, I just can’t Wayne.’ Eddie stutters into the receiver. The distance between then crackling. Cold wind rattles the glass walls of the little gas station payphone. 

‘Ed’s? I need ya to take a breath for me kid.’ Wayne’s voice sounds deeper through the phone, more smoky. 

Eddie’s hands are shaking so hard he shoves one up under his armpit, can barely feel his fingers, tucking his elbow in close and squeezing. Stomping his feet, trying to ground himself into this time and space. He breaths in through his mouth and nose, shuddering as he tries to get as much air as possible into his frame. Blood pumping loud in his ears, and he still can’t fucking see. 

‘That’s it son, and again for me.’ Wayne says, in the same tone he says most things; calm and plain, for as long as Eddie can remember. 

He only heard his uncle raise his voice a couple of times, and never once over Eddie. It was always the disappointed looks that would get under his skin, keep him on the straight and narrow (or, not straight, and mostly narrow), kept him safe.

The main one that Eddie remembers, was when his dad came. 

His dad came to try and get him, take him home, wherever that was, whatever that meant. Wayne lost his shit, as much as Wayne can. Held his hunting gun too close to his dads heart and told him brother-in-law to ‘Get! Out!’ 

Eddie had hidden behind the arm of the sofa, crouched and only daring to peak over when he heard his dad huff, punching the doorframe once and stepping back to leave. ‘Fine, fine!’ He’d spat. ‘Don’t want the kid anyway.’ He glanced at Eddie then, a dark sort of indifference in his eyes. ‘Fucking useless.’

That darkness fills Eddie now, coating his lungs and stopping the air flowing through. His Dad’s right, he can’t be anything, not really. Doesn’t have it in him. 

Part of him is still there, cowering behind the couch. A coward, still now. Maybe always. 

‘You stop that right now Eddie y’hear? You might be yer Daddy’s son but you’re in no way him. Ain’t no way.’ Wayne says, stern. 

Eddie sobs, palm pressed across his eyes, fingers digging into his temple. ‘Fuck.’ He fucking, he just can’t. 

‘M’sorry Wayne. M’sorry. It’s so stupid but I nearly fucking killed him Wayne, if I wasn’t there he woulda’ got away, woulda’ got away fine.’ 

‘If you make one more excuse for that sack of shit Eddie I’m coming up there myself to talk it outa’ you.’ Wayne says. ‘You were a kid Ed, didn’t do nothin’ wrong other than trustin’ your own Daddy.’ Wayne’s voice softens, making sure Eddie’s still listening. ‘What happened wasn’t your fault kid.’ He says, like it’s final. 

‘Okay.’ Eddie takes a wet breath, shivering. ‘Yeah, okay Wayne, I hear ya.’ Closing his eyes, squeezing the receiver and rolling his forehead across the cool glass of the booth. 

‘You ring Chris for me now Ed, tell her you’ll be home soon. And I’ll ring tomorrow once ‘m off, leave you a message if you’re not in.’ Eddie sniffs again, a few more tears slipping down his cheeks. 

‘Ok Wayne.’ He agrees, it’s easier. He’s so tired. ‘Night.’ 

Eddie sneaks through the door, not sure if he wants a whole pity party right now. He kind of just wants to go to bed. 

Chrissys head pops up over the couch, looking at him with wide, wet eyes. 

Maybe he does want a little party, actually. He feels tears well in his lashes again. 

‘Hey Chris. I um, sorry for leaving. It uh, it’s bad again.’ He admits, voice cracking. 

‘Eddie.’ She soothes, coming around to him by the door and wrapping him in a hug. Holding him so tightly in her skinny arms. Too good for him. ‘I’m sitting with you while you ring the doctor tomorrow okay? And you’re coming to yoga with me Thursday.’ She says, wiping Eddie’s tears with her sleeve. ‘And I don’t want any buts mister.’ She mumbles darkly, squeezing his waist when Eddie snorts. 

‘Fine. I, fucking, anything to not feel like this anymore Chris.’ He sighs, he’s so tired. ‘Even fuckin’ yoga.’ And he knows she can hear his eyes roll but she just squeezes him again, humming. 

He buries his face in her neck. Taking deep breaths, till the shuddering goes away. 

-

They’re in the coffee shop below the yoga studio. Eddie’s anxious, already itching for another cigarette even though he finished his last one right before entering the cafe, not five minutes ago, shivering against the cold wind. He didn’t sleep last night, or get any words out, he just watched the shopping channel all curled up on the couch, biting his nails and wishing for something to come change him. 

But he’s here, as much as he doesn’t want to be. He trusts Chrissy, and the last call with the label about the very none negotiable schedule for a new song release in conjuncture with the tour has him ready to try anything. 

Even fucking yoga. 

‘I just don’t see how this is going he help Chrissy, it’s just breathing and shit.’ Eddie says loudly, stress making him obnoxious, the bell above the cafe door tinkling. ‘It’s not gonna help me get stronger. Plus it’s wrapped up in all that pseudoscience bullshit. Just trying to make money off unhappy people and their shit.’ He’s staring down and the flyer in his hand. They were on the counter and Chrissy had shoved it at his chest as she ordered. Probably a queue for him to shut up. 

‘Who the hell even is Stevie anyway?’ Eddie asks, flapping the paper around. It’s pink, with bold black writing and the outline of a striped flag in the corner. Hm. 

But no, gay yoga is still yoga, Eddie won’t be converted that easily. 

‘Chrissy, hey!’ Comes a deep voice from behind him, making Eddie jump. When he turns his arms fall limp at his sides. 

Golden skin and soft brown eyes. Hair that curls around his ears and sits on his head in a highlighted swoop; kinda messy, like he runs his fingers through it. Little gold hoop in his ear, neck covered in moles. Beautiful. 

They’re around the same height but this guy is broader, thick and sturdy with a layer of squish over his muscle, a layer of chest hair over his pecs, peaking out of his tank. He could suffocate Eddie with those thighs. Eddie could take great pride in holding all that bulk down, making him scre- 

‘Stevie! Hey!’ she beams. ‘Eddie meet Steve Harrington. And Stevie, this is Eddie Munson, my best friend.’ Chrissy say, introducing them and pulling the stranger into a side hug. 

Eddie can’t think straight. 

This, is Stevie?

The barista calls his name, Eddie coming back to himself to turn and grab his order. Plaster some kind of smile on his face in leu of an actual human greeting. 

Chrissys looking at him, smiling like she knows something. Knows more than Eddie does. 

He sips his tea. Doesn’t look at her. 

‘…Well nice to meet you man, I’ll see you both in there.’ Steve says, pointing his thumb towards the door. ‘just wanted to say hi. Gotta go prep some more pseudoscience bull before it all starts.’ He says, clapping. Smiling at Eddie like a fucking Stepford wife. Eddie gapes at him. Steve winks. 

Eddie’s mouth snaps shut. 

Slimy fucking guy. Eddie seethes, sipping his tea, watching Stevie leave. He looks like he could be the son of any of the record execs that’ve tried to fuck over Eddie’s music. Breathing down his neck to get another hit album, like Eddie has any control over that, can get himself to write anything like that again. Like he can handle the plans for a tour next spring, into the summer for festivals, said they want new songs to keep the fans interested. Fucking Steve looking at him like that, all spotless and put together and prefect and Eddie cannot fucking let this guy beat him. Not today. 

‘What does that look mean?’ Chrissy asks, amused. 

‘Means that I’m about to have the best fucking yoga session that guy has ever seen.’ Eddie says, still glaring at where Steve had just been. He hooks his arm through Chrissy’s and heads for the door. 

The studio is a renovated townhouse with hardwood floors and long windows. There’s a wall of mirrors and a bar across one wall, aerobics equipment stacked in the corner.

Eddie finds a spot with Chrissy nearer the back, but the rooms really not that big, he can see Steve’s set up at the front just fine. 

Chrissy leave his side to go pay, and apparently flirt with the tall freckled girl who’s taking said payments. Standing in the corner with a clipboard and a laugh that ends in a snort. That must be Robin, Chrissys long time yoga crush, and by the way Robin playful taps Chrissy on the head with her pen, she’s not doing too badly. 

Looking around Eddie’s surprised that there’s other people like him, with tattoos and some more visible piercings. 

Older ladies with pink in their hair. A younger guy with a cane and a Prince shirt on. People of different sizes, colours, shapes.  

Steve is making his way around the room, talking to people, he knows most of them by name. 

It’s. It’s almost nice. 

But when Eddie looks at Steve all he sees are the jocks who spat on him in high-school. The rich kids who said they couldn’t be friends because their parents found out he lives in a trailer. People who look at him with awkward, dead eyed pity when he mentions his uncle but not his parents. 

Steve walks over, snapping Eddie out of his head. ‘Hey, so Chrissy knows how it goes. But Eddie, I want you to take it easy tonight, okay? First session means you should be careful.’ 

Eddie leans back on his palms, festered. ‘Don’t think I can handle it Steven?’ 

Steve doesn’t take the bate, neutral face barely twitching. ‘Have you done yoga before?’ 

‘No’ 

Steve crosses his arms. ’Then no, I don’t think you can handle it actually. Last thing I want is you disturbing my class because you pulled a muscle being dumb, kay?’ 

Eddie just grunts, smiling at him in a little closed lipped sneer. Jerking his head and clenching his jaw. 

Stevie just rolls his eyes, walks away. 

Eddie hates him. 

Fucking yoga. How hard could it fucking be…

Eddie muscles are burning. He takes it back he takes it back. 

But he can’t let Steve know. Can’t bare to see that smug little smirk on his face again. 

‘Stay here if you're comfortable. But, if you want a little push tonight’ Steve says to the room, eyes flashing to Eddie in warning. ‘Move with me.’ And he bends down to touch the floor, hands then coming away, held in place by his core. 

‘Fuck’ Eddie grunts, tries releasing his hands but he comes too close to toppling over. His palms are sweating and his hair is sticking to his neck. Fucking yoga… 

‘Just breathing and shit right Munson?’ Steve says as Eddie spaces out on his mat, session over. Eddie can see more thigh at the angle, up the stupid fucking shorts Steve’s wearing. A little patch of sweat on his tank, sticking to his chest hair. 

‘Whatever Harrington.’ He grunts, forcing himself to sit up. Not looking Steve in the eye. 

Everything hurts. Even his fucking brain hurts from trying to imagine the smooth lake that Steve talked about during the ending meditation. Eddie couldn’t seem to imagine his without a ghostly pirate ship bobbing in the middle of the water. 

Fucking yoga. 

-

‘I hate him.’ 

‘Yeah sure, next thing you’ll be pulling his pigtails’ Chrissy rolls her eyes. ‘You don’t even know him, and I heard how well you slept after the session, your snoring woke me up Ed’s. Don’t give up just because the teacher is hot.’

‘He is not hot!’ Eddie seethes. 

He is so hot. So, so incredibly hot. 

Chrissy raises one eyebrow. 

‘Fine. I’ll keep going. but I hate him. ‘ 

-

One session, a few weeks in, Eddie feels it.

He dips down, back bending, coming out of downwards dog. Flowing onto his palms and toes. He breaths, feels his blood flow in his veins and his lungs fill. Rising back up and feeling the stretch in his feet, in his shoulders and hips. He breaths through it, moving with himself, connected to himself. 

Mind blank, room gone, just him and his breath. The smooth voice of Steve telling them to repeat. Eddie does. His eyes close and his mind smooths out. He flows. 

He doesn’t look at Steve again. Misses the glint in his eye, noticing the space Eddie holds on his mat, the tensions that’s been released. Misses Steve’s smile. 

Eddie breathes in. A chord progression plays in his mind. 

He breaths out. It plays again. 

It works perfectly with that scribbled line he re read this afternoon. 

Eddie breaths in. 

He goes home and writes. 

-

Winter eventually thaws and Spring begins slowly, slush still gripping to the sidewalks as the sun peaks through thick clouds. 

Eddie continues to work on demos, that don’t quite hurt so much to look at anymore, and goes to yoga once a week.

Twice a week for a couple weeks now, while Chrissy is away visiting family. Eddie doesn’t want to disturb her too much by phoning. But he misses her, the apartment too quiet, and empty. 

He gets to class early. Kind of exited to feel the stretch in his muscles tonight, see if he can hit the lower warrior stance he’s been working on. Any excitement sifts into annoyance though, once he sees Steve, mingling, in a bright pink shirt and shorts that sit way too high up on his thighs. Eddie’s not a prude, but, does he really need to see so much leg hair and smooth inner thigh when he’s trying to work out? Trying to relax?

‘Ready to feel the burn Munson?’ Steve asks as he saunters past him, clicking on the boombox as he goes

‘Bite me Harrington, ‘m not in the mood.’ Eddie says. annoyed. Always annoyed that Steve is still as fucking handsome as last time. Always so annoyingly handsome. 

He misses Chrissy. 

He’s annoyed

Steve’s shorts are too fucking short… 

Steve’s smug smile does not go unnoticed when Eddie actually falls asleep during the wind down meditation. Steve had skipped the ending applause and instead ushered everyone out quietly, leaving Eddie to sleep for a solid 20 minutes while he packed up. 

Eddie has glared, not able to extend any gratitude to that being the best sleep he’s had all week, his cheeks bright red at being caught. But Steve’s smugness seemed to be thawing with the ice. A softness to his eyes as he bid Eddie goodnight; once Eddie had wrapped himself back up in his winter coat for the walk home. 

Eddie couldn’t help but say goodnight back. ‘See you next week Harrington’ Didn’t seem to sound so bitter anymore. 

-

Eddie watches Chrissy try and show Robin an old cheer move, somehow moving topics once Chrissy had added her money to the pot. Robin’s arms don’t seem to stay straight for long enough, too distracted so she looses form. Chrissy giggling and reaching over to grab her wrist and squeeze. 

‘You two been dating long?’ Steve asks, suddenly next to Eddie and joining him in watching the two girls dance around each other. Eddie gives him such a look of confusion and judgment that Steve puts his hands up in defence. 

‘I’m joking dude, Rob’s been crazy about her for months. Too bad she’s too chicken shit to ask her out.’ 

‘I know, I’m honestly just glad she’s real, Chris wouldn’t shut up about her.’ 

‘Tell her to make it obvious, would you? More obvious that she would expect, Robbie needs that.’ And Steve is smiling, eyes sparking as he looks at them. 

Eddie nods, and he doesn’t know why he feels the need to say what’s he’s going to, why he needs to explain. Why he feels like Steve needs to know, but.: ‘We uh, both swing away from each other on the ol’ spectrum, just so, so that we’re clear.’ 

And Steve is looking at him. At the side of Eddie’s head, because he refuses to see what kind of face Steve is making. 

‘That right?’ Steve says quietly. ‘Well, good to know.’ 

Eddie.. he. ‘Good?’ 

‘Yeah good.’ And Steve’s voice is soft. And Eddie still doesn’t know why but, he blushes. 

And Steve’s moving away and calling Robin to start the session. 

Eddie doesn’t look up from his mat. 

-

He can’t be in the apartment anymore. Going stir crazy, buzzing, trapped in his own head. Its too early, class doesn’t start yet. But Eddie needs out. 

Chrissy isn’t going tonight, working late. The weatherman said there might be a thunder storm in the early hours. the rain already started, pelting his windows and sending a deep swirling ache dripping through Eddie’s nervous system. 

It’s raining so hard he can barely see in front of him but he manages to slop to the studio in one piece, waterproof and face dripping all over the floor. 

It’s warm, once he’s through the doors, the now familiar soft yellow lighting and smell of hardwood greeting him. 

He can hear laughing from the usual room. Moving closer can hear Robin and Steve giggling about something. 

Eddie slips through the door, not really sure what to do but he’s almost ready to admit that he craves the soft light of the familiar yoga room. 

He slips through the door and the first crack of lightning snaps in the distance. 

Steve is in a head stand, giggling and telling robin to knock it off, whatever she’s said making him almost loose his balance. 

Upside down Eddie can see Steve’s back, his T-shirt up around his shoulders. 

There’s old raised lines of jagged scars all along the planes of skin and muscle. Sewn back together and healed all wonky. 

Eddie’s mouth is dry as he stares at them. The muscles moving under Steve’s skin, the softness at his hips. Eddie gulps. 

His dad setting the stupid boat house on fire, once he’d heard the sirens, not leaving enough room between himself and the gasoline. Throwing the lighter while he was off balance. The flames licking his arms and face. He told Eddie to run. Eddie did. 

Eddies mat slips from his fingers and smacks against the floor. Steve coming down from his position and turning around, shirt falling back and covering him. ‘Sorry, sorry.’ Eddie stammers, not sure what about. His hands are sweating. Steve, with skin like that. He’s not his Dad, he’s not. 

Eddie doesn’t even know if his Dad is out of prison. The lightning cracks again, closer. It was raining the day of the verdict, the courthouses grey brick so waterlogged it looked black. 

Eddie can barely look at him. Who even is this guy? 

‘Hey man, you okay?’ Steve asks, voice soft and Eddie needs to leave. He needs to leave. 

‘Water.’ Eddie slips back out of the room, into the hallway and he speed walks down the corridor to the water cooler. Thudding his shoulder into the wall next to it and sliding down into a crouch. Thunder claps and rattles its deep booming cry. 

His breath is shaky, a little too fast. When he closes his eyes he sees the black smoke and orange flames licking the forest skyline as he ran. Feet pumping and sweat dripping into his eyes. His dad told him to run. So he had. Leaving him there. 

Eddie can barely breathe. He’s already run for so long, the sirens faint and distant. His dad’s cold eyes on him in the hospital; burns unit. In court. Wayne dragging Eddie home in tears. Soaking wet. 

His head jerks and smacks the wall behind him. Pulling him back to the present. The wet slap of his hair against his cheek. Eddie can’t breath, his hands are shaking and, and. 

Steve is crouched in front of him, lips moving but Eddie can’t hear him over the blood rushing in his ears. 

Steve counts on his fingers; one, two, three. Holding them up for Eddie to see. Then his other hand reaches forward and pokes Eddie in the sternum over his slimy waterproof. Steve breaths in, fingers counting again. Steve hold it, fingers. He breaths out, fingers. 

For the next round Eddie follows, hands shaking and cupping over his ears. He breaths in, unable to hold it but he breaths everything in his lungs out. Does it again. Following the count of Steve’s fingers. He has a plaster over his thumb. Eddie wonders what happened. Eddie’s breaths in, holds it for three, breaths out. 

Eventually Eddie can breathe on his own, still shaky, but consistent. The thunder and lightning having moved off into the distance. 

Steve gets him a cup of water from the cooler, handing it over slowly and Eddie grips it in both hands. ‘You scared me there Munson.’ He says without heat. 

‘Yeah I, sorry.’ Eddie cheeks burn, it’s been, a long time since he’s had one like that. 

‘S’okay. I know these are pretty scary.’ Steve motions to his back, shifting to sit against the wall next to Eddie. Sad sort of smile pulling on his lips. 

Eddie panics. ‘No, no that. They’re, they’re not.’ Because they really aren’t. He just, he wasn’t expecting it. 

‘I’m kidding Eddie, you’re good.’ Steve says, smiling for real now, small wrinkles at the corners of his eyes. Those will look pretty as he ages, Eddie’s thinks. He nods. 

Steve nods back, eyes Eddie, flicking over his face. ‘You wanna do class tonight? I can take you home?’ 

‘Oh uh no.’ Eddie drains his water. ‘I mean no, I want to do class. It um, it helps.’ He stares into the little plastic water cup. 

But in his peripheral, Steve is smirking, smug as shit and Eddie tries to scowl. But he just ends up hiding his grin behind his hair. 

‘Let me give you a lift home after though, yeah?’ Steve asks, bumping their shoulders together. ‘Storm isn’t due to let up until tomorrow and I can’t have one of my best students getting sick.’ Steve says, standing up from the floor with an ease that Eddie still envy's. Holding his big hands out to haul Eddie up. 

It takes a second to reorient himself, Steve is, Steve is pretty strong. ‘Uh, thanks. Thank you, Steve.’ He manages, squeezing Steve’s fingers once. 

‘Don’t mention it.’ And Steve’s eyes are soft and kind and endless. 

Eddie pulls away. Slips down the corridor and back into the studio. 

Steve’s car is nice. A beemer that’s a few years out but it looks like he takes care of it. The interior cream and the leather soft, it’s tidy, and there’s an air freshener hanging from the mirror, a pinup of a sailor. Eddie flicks it, smirking. 

‘Gift from Robin. We used to uh, work at a sailor themed ice cream shop. The uniforms were, really somethin’.’ Steve says with a pained sigh, pulling into the street. 

Eddie smiles, aggressively forcing his mind away from Steve in any kind of sailor uniform, steering towards safer territory. 

‘Can I?’ He asks, motioning to Steve’s little box of tapes at his feet. 

‘Have at it man.’ Steve says, squinting slightly and turning up the speed on his wipers. 

Eddie picks the new Queen tape, Steve has a decent collection, a lot of pop and some 70s rock. Eddie nodding his head slightly to “innuendo”. 

He sneaks glances at Steve as he drives. His hand big and veined where it rests on the gear shift. There are raindrops stuck in his arm hairs and the bomber he slipped on is dark across the shoulders. He doesn’t really look anything like those record execs, or their sons, probably. His socks are mismatched and there’s a spot of stubble on his upper lip that he must’ve missed this morning. He runs a yoga studio and is aggressively accommodating when he teaches. He always learns clients names before the end of their first session and he loves his best friend. 

Eddie feels his fringe sticking to his forehead, half sweat half rain. The car windows are slightly misted and he blinks a few times to clear his eyes. ‘Thanks, uh, thank you. For the lift man. You really didn’t have to.’ 

Steve smiles at him, glancing away from the road. Some of his hair has tucked itself into the his little hoop earring, something in Eddie’s chest softening. ‘Do you want to talk about it? Earlier?’

Eddie, he doesn’t. Not really. 

‘It was raining the day my dad got sent to prison. Thunder and lightning by the time my uncle could got me home.’ Eddie settles on, voice thick.

‘Fuck, Eddie. I’m so sorry.’ 

‘’S fine. I’m, he wasn’t that great of a dad.’ Eddie huffs, he really doesn’t want to get into that. 

Steve glances at him, smile sad. ‘I’ll cheers to that man. But yeah, still.’ He shrugs. 

‘Thanks. Um, if you take a left here my place is just at the end.’ Eddie says, quietly, tired. 

They arrive at the base of his apartment, the rain hammering on the roof and blurring the glow of the yellow streetlight. Eddie moves for the door, hand on the mat between his knees. 

‘Oh hey, wait, uh.’ Steve says, moving in a little closer. 

He reaches out, fingertips brushing the soft skin below Eddie’s eye. ‘Eyelash.’ He murmurs, holding the little hair up for Eddie to see. ‘Make a wish.’ 

Eddie swallows, feels the ghost of tear tracks still crusted over his cheeks. A boy just touched his cheek. He sniffs.

When he was a kid and his dad remembered his birthday he’d get Eddie a slice of pie from the diner. Linda who worked there always managed to find a candle out back for him; squeezing his shoulder and giving Eddie a smile that only read a little bit like pity. His dad would tell him to make a wish and ask for money, or fame, or for Al to one day own a new Mustang. 

Eddie always wished for the same thing.

For something to change. 

Figured something had to give. 

Now Eddie thinks about it, again, and maybe evrything has changed. Maybe everything is exactly what it looks like, and he’s here, in the centre of it. And there are parts, parts that are quite beautiful. 

He breathes in, opening his eyes and watching the eyelash flutter away on his breath. Eddie wishes to be able to see it.

-

‘Mind if I touch you?’ Steve asks from behind Eddie. ‘You almost have it.’ 

Eddie starts, muscles shaking a little. ’Sure, sure Stevie.’ He whispers. 

Steve’s warm finger press gently under Eddie’s arm so he lifts it slightly. Then on his shoulders so they dip minutely lower. Finally his palms wrap around Eddie’s waist, twisting him so he’s facing forward more fully. 

Eddie breaths out the air he’d been holding, long and slow, sinking into the pose. 

‘That’s it. Perfect.’ Steve soothes and moves on to the next person. 

Eddie falls asleep that night with the phantom press of palms on his waist. 

-

It’s raining again, but, no thunder. On a Tuesday, the session that Chrissy and Robin can’t make. The session that only Eddie attends in his now comfortable bi-weekly yoga routine. 

The night that it’s also routine for Steve to drive Eddie home. 

Tonight Steve wore a long sleeve and track pants to class. It’s not that unusual but, it’s warmer out now. So, a little unusual for Steve really, who’s usually sweaty during class even with ice clinging to the windows. 

He’s quiet too, doesn’t roll his eyes at Eddie playing one of the handful of tapes that he’d squirrelled into the car for these short rides. Doesn’t bat Eddie’s hand away from the temperature dials, telling Eddie to zip his coat up if he’s so frail. 

Tonight Steve is just quiet, moving the class into child’s pose three times. Leaving the ending meditation in silence. His breath wavering on the classes final group goodnight. 

‘…Steve? Are you okay?’ Eddie finally asks, the quiet too suffocating, the downward pinch of Steve’s mouth making Eddie’s heart feel heavy and rotted. 

‘Hm? Yeah, I’m just. Bad day, scars itch.’ And Steve smiles but it doesn’t reach his eyes. He looks almost sadder. 

‘Can, uh. How did? I mean, you don’t. But.’ Eddie stammers, he’s never been much good at comforting but if Steve needs someone to listen, he can do that. Wants to. 

Steve sighs, pulling up next to the sidewalk, Eddie’s apartment just at the end of the street, cutting the ignition so it’s just the two of them, and the rain. 

‘They’re from a car accident. When I was 18. I, shouldn’t have been driving, it was so stupid. I wasn’t drunk or anything just, upset. Had a fight with my Dad, bad one. This other car was driving, pulling up along side me. It was this asshole from my high-school asking to race. I said yes like an idiot. But I was so, so angry. At everything. I thought, winning maybe, winning and wiping that smug fucking look from his face. Would like, help?’ 

Eddie doesn’t really know what to say, or do. Steve is picking at the skin on his knuckles, the joints going red and raw. So Eddie takes his hand, holding his finger between both of his own; smoothing his thumb over its ridges. 

Steve sniffs, corner of his mouth tucking up, bottom lip wobbling. ‘Anyway, we’re driving way too fucking fast and then there are these kids, suddenly, biking on the road. And, and this asshole, he speeds up. Planned on running straight into them, I could see it in his, cold fucking eyes. And I just, I swerved. Went right into him. Better me than those kids u know?’ Steve runs his free hand through his hair, laughing in a way though could just as easily be a sob. ‘He got off without much of a scratch, but uh, my door crumpled against a tree and like, fucked up my back a load, got these scars and aches and stuff now. Didn’t get charged with anything, luckily. Those kids actually vouched for me, babysat them here and there and, now we’re actually friends, as much as they annoy the shit outa me.’ And Steve’s cheeks are red, wetness glistening in his lash line, threatening to spill. He sniffs again, scoffing and turning his head away. 

Eddie pulls their joined hands into his lap, so Steve turns back towards him again. He’s hunched; looks young, and scared, and tired. 

‘But, yeah. I dunno why I told you all that honestly but. I guess. Anger only gets you so far, usually somewhere stupid. That’s my, uh, my pro tip I guess. Harder to forgive but way better for you.’ 

The silence stretches again, more comfortable this times. Eddie runs his thumb over the downy hairs on Steve fingers, over the scar by his thumb. Massages his palms, digging fingers into sinew. 

‘You know, I hated you that first session.’ Eddie says, tired of the ache that Steve’s tears are causing in his ribs. Tired of being angry, tired of being scared. 

‘Yeah.’ Steve scoffs, rolling his eyes, grin stretching slow and sweet. Like it’s a good memory, a memory to savour. 

‘Yeah. Too fucking handsome for his own good this guy. And charming, and rightfully cocky; you’re good at your job Stevie. Really good, and it pissed me the fuck off.’ Eddie says, his own smile stretching.

And Steve laughs, a honking snoring ugly little thing and it makes Eddie heart swell, his cheeks flush and his cheeks hurt from smiling so big. 

Steve is looking at him, tears gone. 

‘You wanna go get something to eat? The diner around the corner does really good cheeseburgers? My treat?’ 

‘Yeah Eddie, I’d, um, I’d really like that.’ Steve says.

-

‘We’re going to get coffee, don’t wait up.’ Chrissy shouts at them, linking arms with Robin and pulling her down the street. 

Robin sends Steve one wild grin, honking a delighted snort of laughter and following Chrissy. 

‘Well.’ Eddie says at Steve who’s grinning like a loon. 

‘Home?’ Steve asks, twirling his keys on his finger. 

Eddie nods and get in, so used to the smell and the feel of the car now. The way Steve drives with one hand on the wheel, the other tapping on the window ledge or fiddling with the temperature or gesticulating as he talks. Eddie comfortable in the passenger, curled up in his sweater and squeezing the mat between his knees. Some rides home he realises he didn’t even take a glance out of the window, eyes set on Steve the whole time. 

‘Hey, do you want to come up?’ Eddie ask. 

‘Come up and do what?’ And Steve’s smiling at him, cocky and confident and sweet and Steve. 

Eddie leans forward, kissing the corner of Steve’s mouth, which is a little stubbly from his moustache coming in. Where he smirks and licks his lips before a difficult pose. He’s Steve Harrington, and Eddie kissed him. 

-

‘Hey Wayne.’ Eddie smiles, squeezing the receiver. 

‘Hey kid, you all packed.’ Wayne sounds tired but relaxed and Eddie nudges the box by his foot, full of merch ready to load in the van come morning. 

‘Yeah, just a few more bits, Steve just left so, got distracted.. you remember Steve, he my, the uh, the yoga instructor?’ Eddie asks, cheeks flushing. 

 ‘Mmm I ‘member Steve. You sweet on him boy?’ 

‘Yes Wayne, he is!’ Chrissy shouts as she walks past. 

Eddie jumps and almost hisses at her like a cat. She, where did she even come from?

Wayne’s smoky laughter draws Eddie back to the phone. ‘I. God Wayne are you 12?’ But that just makes him laugh more. 

‘I’m going okay? Love you old man, I’ll call when I can.’ 

‘Love ya too ed, be safe. I’ll come visit once you’re back. Wanna meet this Steve everyone keeps going on about.’ 

Eddie huffs but he can’t help smiling, imagining Steve and Wayne together. 

‘You deserve someone good Ed, ye understand?’ 

Eddie blinks, blinks back tears. The things he has around him now, the people, the tools, his music. What he’s been given. What he always wished for. 

‘Yeah, yeah Wayne, I think I do.’ 

₊✩‧₊

Tag list: @pearynice @scoops-aboy86 @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @cheesedoctor @chickensinrainboots

@marvel-ous-m @tangerinesteve

title form 'Today' but The Smashing Pumpkins

[fuctacles]

@steddiesummerexchange for @chaosgremlinmunson | part 2/3 | beta @stevesjockstrap 💚

T | 10858 | Steddie, Buckingham, platonic Stobin and Hellcheer, Wayne&Eddie | Soulmate AU, unconventional soulmates, misunderstandings, idiot4idiot, fluff | divider & meme doodle by me | Part 1 | Part 3 | Ao3

Eddie doesn't have to wait long for Robin to call him. He's chilling on his bed, plunking on the guitar and ignoring homework, when he hears a knock on his door.

"Son? There's a call for you," his uncle says through the closed door. (He'll say it's because he values his nephew's privacy, but they both know it's for plausible deniability.) Eddie is confused at first but then remembers he did give away his number that day, for a very important cause. He puts the guitar to the side and jumps up from the bed. 

"Who is it?" he asks upon opening his door, startling his uncle. The man raises his eyebrows at him.

"A girl that's not Chrissy," he says, voice carefully blank and yet calculatingly implying. "Robin from the sex store?"

If she has introduced herself like that, to a random dude's parental figure, he knows she and Chrissy would get along great. 

"It's not like that!" He rolls his eyes, before running toward the phone.

"Should I leave?" his uncle yells back.

"No, please, stay so you know it's a civilized conversation between a tutor and her student," he answers with a glare and picks up the receiver. "Hello?"

"Bold of you to assume we're a tutor and student already," comes the snark comment from the other end of the line. 

Eddie admits to himself, and only himself, that he might have jumped a bit on this one. 

"Sorry, I just had to say something normal to my uncle about the girl from the sex shop," he says pointedly and to her credit, the sex shop girl has the decency to make an apologetic hiss. 

"Yeah, sorry about that. Blurting shit out without thinking is my cardinal sin."

He barks out a laugh. Fuck, she is perfect.

"No worries, I'm sure my uncle has heard worse."

"I have," Wayne mutters under his breath while sorting through their laundry nearby. Well, in the cramped trailer space, everything was nearby. Eddie grins at him and his uncle fips him the bird without even looking up. Eddie flips one back.

"I'm assuming your friend passed my message?" he asks, focusing back on the conversation with his soulmate's crush.

"Yeah, he did. But before I agree to anything, I must ask you something."

"Shoot."

"Are you hitting on me?" 

Eddie chokes on his tongue. 

"No?!" he reacts immediately. He hears her scoff into his ear so he tries to save it. "Not that you're not like, good looking or anything, you're just not my type and I actually really need the tutoring," he says the truth, even if it was just an afterthought in his plan to get closer to her for the wingmaning purposes. "Besides," he pauses, not sure if he should say anything. But something in the way Robin has been communicating so far makes him want to run his mouth without shame as well.

"Besides?" she prompts, slightly annoyed. It's her tone that helps him make up his mind in the end.

"I wouldn't do that to my friend," he says.

The line goes silent. Unnervingly so. Eddie gives her time to gather her thoughts and wonders if it was the wrong thing to say after all. If it was a confession too close to revealing his ulterior motives. 

"Hey—"

"Which one?" she asks abruptly, cutting him off.

"Huh?"

"I'm not into your DnD nerds."

Oh, so she did a background check on him. Well, not that there were many metalhead Eddies in Hawkins High. He presses the receiver between his shoulder and ear so he can pop his knuckles. His hands are itching for stimulation; guitar strings, a pen, a joint, anything. 

"What about nerdettes?" 

His uncle snorts somewhere in the background but Eddie is great and making up words, thank you very much and fuck you, Uncle Wayne, you're uncultured. 

"Yeah, that's..." Robin takes a loud, steadying breath. "That's more up my speed."

Eddie is not a quiet person. He finds it difficult not to voice his opinions and his favorite music has been described by some as "angry yelling". So he's very proud of himself for managing a silent little happy dance, even if he almost drops the phone in the process. He can feel his uncle's judgemental eyes on him but completely ignores them. 

"Great! I'll pass on the good news to her then." He smiles cockily against the receiver. 

"Yeah, uh, you do that." She coughs softly. "So um, am I safe to assume you are scheming to land your friend a date with me?"

"Well..."

"And the fact that I can tutor you, a super senior, while doing it, is just a cherry on top?" 

"Super super senior," Eddie corrects her. "But, uh, yeah, you'd be right." Eddie has a feeling they'll get along smoothly. Maybe there was another universe where they were platonic soulmates as well. 

"Does tomorrow work for you?"

"Uh, yeah," he says, almost forgetting what the call was supposed to be about. 

"Please do not bring your friend," she adds, a slight panic in her voice, 

"No of course." He nods furiously, even though she can't see it. "You haven't passed the soulmate's approval yet." 

"You guys are soulmates?" she asks, a bit too loud in his ear.

"Uh yeah?"

"Oh my god! Just like Steve and me!"

He blinks into the ether with a frown.

"You guys are soulmates?" 

"Duh! I've never met other platonic soulmates before. Do you think we could hang out, the four of us?"

"Uh, yeah, I guess?" He's a little bit lost, a ton ecstatic, but most of all, he wasn't prepared for all of this so he's scrambling for words to find. "I think it would be nice," he offers.

"Great. We can talk it out tomorrow, after school?" she offers and it takes him a moment to understand.

"Oh, yeah," he catches up finally, "The library?"

"Yeah, works for me. See you tomorrow?"

"Yeah, see you tomorrow," he parrots. He listens to her drop one last goodnight before the line goes dead.

Wayne gives him a moment to contemplate on stuff, before walking up to him. He takes the phone from his loose grip and puts it back on the cradles.

"Wanna catch me up?" he asks. It's not demanding, it never is, the way he's heard some parents talk to their kids. It's a genuine offer to get involved in his nephew's life. Eddie's eyes finally focus on him.

"Can I get a beer?"

"Can I get a joint?" Wayne shoots back, making Eddie smile.

"Deal."

They sit around their tiny coffee table, sharing a joint while Eddie catches him up on the events since he and Chris stepped into a random sex shop in the middle of a storm. When he's finished, Wayne hoards the joint with a look of concern in his eyes, despite Eddie reaching out for his turn on the weed.

"Son." His voice turns stern, letting him know it's important and he should listen.

"What?" Eddie whines instead, making one more pathetic flail for the reefer. 

"So you meet this guy twice on sheer accident, your soulmates seem to be interested in each other and he has a DnD tattoo, which is something you are very interested in."

"Yeah?" Eddie frowns, completely oblivious to where his uncle is going. He reached out again but the joint was just flying further out of his reach. 

"Son. Don't you think the DnD soulmate he's looking for, might be you?" his uncle says bluntly, clearly the weed speaking through him properly.

Eddie shakes his head.

"I don't have the tattoo to match."

"Kid, I will smack you into a different state," Wayne says flatly and seems about ready to act on his threat. "Do they teach you nothing at school?"

"I don't know, I'm not learning anything."

Wayne glares at him while Eddie gives him an innocent smile. 

"I knew a guy," he says, the patience for his nephew thin yet endless. "Whose mark complimented his wives. He had a fork and she had a knife."

"You're joking," Eddie says with a delighted smile.

"No," Wayne smiles at him. "They opened a very successful bistro. I also knew a couple who got matching marks after they met."

"That's stupid." Eddie frowns. "How is that supposed to make finding your soulmate easier?"

Wayne shrugs.

"Since when anything in life is easy? Or smart? Or making sense?" 

His uncle stares at the wall with that ancient philosopher's gaze and Eddie finally manages to pluck the joint out of his hand.

"Okay, old man, I think that's enough weed for you today."

He doesn't protest and turns to his nephew instead.

"Every relationship is unique, you know? And so are the soulmate bonds."

Eddie knows it's true, but his mind doesn't want to wrap around the possibility suggested here. 

"You know what is very unique? A teenager and his uncle indulging in illegal substances on a random afternoon."

Wayne smiles at him, gathering him into a sideways hug.

"Ain't no other family like ours," he agrees. And then promptly breaks the moment by tightening his grip to give Eddie a noogie.

"Ow, no, Wayne! My hair!"

"I didn't know I booked a double lesson." Eddie raises his eyebrows when he spots not one but two people waiting at the library entrance. 

The shrimp in a hat next to Robin snorts.

"Please," he lisps. "I don't need tutoring."

Eddie frowns at the tone of the literal freshman in front of him and watches Robin cross her arms.

"I don't know, kid, your Latin could use some work."

The kid bristles, his hackles rising like an angry cat. It looks very amusing and forces Eddie to bite his lip not to smile.

"I am working on it! Thank you very much!"

"So," Eddie reminds them of his presence. "What is the nerd doing here?" he rephrases his question.

"The nerd," the kid repeats, his tone not offended, but proud, which Eddie can totally fuck with. "Heard you're a Dungeon Master?" 

Under all his cockiness and self-confidence, he couldn't hide the excitement and hope. Eddie smiled against himself and gave a small bow.

"Indeed I am. Eddie the Banished, Son of the Moon. At your service."

"Oh my god," Robin groans, while the kid seems about ready to pee his pants from excitement. "Let's go, you nerds, you can talk on the way." She rolls her eyes and turns without looking back. Eddie follows her in the direction of study rooms and the kid trots along next to him.

"I'm Dustin, by the way. A dwarven bard," he introduces himself.

"Dustin?" It rings a bell... "Wait, Steve's freshman friend?"

The kid grins with delight.

"He said we're friends?"

Uh-oh.

"I don't remember what he said exactly," he covers up quickly. "But I do remember he mentioned a party looking for a DM. Are you guys new to DnD?"

The smile he got for that question made him lowkey want to smack the kid and highkey excited to have players he won't have to spend a whole campaign explaining the rules to. He would, if needed, but having seasoned players with their own playing styles he doesn't know yet? That's trouble at the table that he couldn't wait to witness.

Robin refuses to let Dustin pass through the door professionally labeled (with a black marker on a piece of paper) as a 'student tutoring' room. She puts a hand against his chest when he tries to follow them.

"Listen, Henderson. I promised Steve I'd give this guy a chance..."

Eddie raises his eyebrow at that piece of information.

"And you're going to ruin it if you keep bothering us. Do you want Steve to be disappointed?"

Dustin frowns at her and the arm holding him back. He swats it away but doesn't pass the threshold. 

"That's blackmail," he huffs, crossing his arms.

"That's facts," Robin corrects him. "Go bother someone else. Eddie already agreed to play with you."

"But there's so much to discuss beforehand!" the boy protests. Eddie decides to throw him a bone. Mostly because he really needs to bring that wingmanning to a satisfying end.

"Can you come to our table tomorrow? I'll introduce you to Hellfire guys and we can talk out some details then."

Dustin immediately lights up.

"Can my friends come too?"

"Of course, man. Gotta test your vibe."

"Okay! Tomorrow at lunch!" He jumps up on the balls of his feet, slowly retracing backward. 

"Yeah, bud. See you then."

"See you! I'll show you the characters I've been working on!"

"You really don't have to—"

But he was already gone. Eddie sighs as Robin slams the door shut and falls against them with a groan.

"He's so exhausting," she complains. "Smart as hell, a great kid, but so exhausting."

Eddie chuckles. 

"Yeah, I can see that. How are you guys even friends?" he asks curiously. But Robin shakes her head, pushing herself away from the door. 

"Nuh-uh. You're not getting the backstory yet. Spanish first, chit-chat later."

Right. Studying. The bane of Eddie's existence.

Robin manages only half an hour of his stupidity (foreign-language-rejecting brain, she called it, but he'll keep calling it stupidity) before announcing a break.

She rests her head against her arms, blocking out the light, while Eddie runs through the million topics on his mind that he could start. Apparently, he stares at her hair long enough for her to notice it.

"Just say what's on your mind, man," she mumbles against the textbook.

"Did Steve really ask you to help me out?" This was not what he intended to ask, and certainly not what he was there for, but it was already out.

Robin lifts her head slightly.

"Yeah. He seems weirdly fond of you," she answers with her eyes narrowed like it was somehow his fault her friend was acting weird. 

Eddie shrugs, thinking of a reasonable explanation.

"Maybe he's hoping to find his soulmate if he keeps befriending DnD nerds," he offers. 

She snorts. It feels like she's laughing at him, though. He frowns. 

"Yeah. Speaking of soulmates, though..." She straightens up, suddenly nervous. "I think. And I might be wrong. But it felt similar with Steve, so I'm like, eighty percent sure..."

"Dude, just spill it."

Robin scrunched her nose.

"I have a feeling about Chrissy."

"Okay?" Eddie frowns. "I mean, that's why I'm here, right? To help you guys out?"

She shakes her head.

"No, like... A soulmate feeling."

Eddie's eyes go wide. 

"For real?"

She nods.

"I mean, at least I think so." 

"Well, you have something to compare it to, so I will trust your judgment," he reassures her. Only then do the meaning of her words hit him, and his eyes go wide. "Holy shit! You're Chrissy's soulmate!"

"Probably," Robin rushes in to add. "She didn't say anything about it, did she?" She's adamant about not getting her hopes up. If she was the only one who felt it, maybe it was a false alarm. Maybe she had eaten something bad earlier that day.

"No," Eddie admits with a twist of his mouth. "But she's not good at picking up this stuff. We had been friends for a month before we realized we were bonded."

That does make her feel better. She was the first to pick up on her bond with Steve as well, so maybe it was simply a Robin thing.

"But she's uh, she's interested, right?" she asks to clarify. It feels awkward but still a little less intimidating to have the buffer of her crush's best friend than talking to her directly. 

"She literally wouldn't shut up about you." Eddie grins at her. "Yesterday she dragged me to your store and was very disappointed not to find you there." Which, thinking of, reminds him of Steve. He frowns. "Did you tell Steve? Because I was positive for awhile, that he was hitting on Chris."

"No, I—"

Eddie slams his hand on the table, interrupting her.

"You sent him to spy!" He points at her accusingly. "He was asking about Chrissy for you!"

She shrugs, crossing her arms to give him a deadpan stare despite her fiercely red cheeks. 

"Yeah. And what are you doing right now?"

Eddie grins. Oh, he likes her. 

"Touche," he nods his head. "So, about that date..."

They agree on a date next weekend, and in the meantime, Eddie dusts off an old campaign of his. A one-shot to make sure he'll even want to play with a bunch of kids. Betwee them and the Hellfire guys there's more than enough players, but Dustin asks if he can invite Steve too.

"I don't invite an audience into game sessions," Eddie tells him with a frown. He's gathering their character sheets to know what he'll be dealing with.

"As a player!" Dustin corrects him. "I've been trying to get him to play with us forever and since it's a one-shot maybe he'll finally cave."

Eddie makes a face.

"I'm not taking in a newbie with all seasoned players," he protests.

"But he knows everything about the game! Because of his soulmate?" Dustin reminds him like he's stupid. And he kind of is, because it should be hard to forget trivia. 

"Uh, right." He scratches his cheeks. "Fine, I guess. But I want his character sheet pronto." 

At that, Dustin digs deeper into his bag to retrieve another sheet of paper from between the pages of his math textbook. Eddie groans.

"Are you kidding me? You little shit." But he takes Steve's character sheet from him. Dustin grins widely, satisfied with himself.

"Just this once," he assures. "Well, unless he likes it."

Eddie huffs, offended. 

"He's gonna love it. I'm a great DM."

"I'm sure you are and I'm sure he will. This Friday?"

"3 PM sharp." Eddie points at him.

"Aye aye," Dustin salutes, backing away towards the school crowd and inevitably running into some kid. Not for the first time, and probably not the last one either, Eddie wonders how someone like Henderson got himself involved with Steve Harrington.

Friday comes fast and Eddie is excited to have new players at his table again. Some idiots have been spreading shitty rumors about the game lately, so the interest has been scarce. And now he has three innocent freshmen at his table. And Steve Harrington.

He looks out of place between nerdy freshmen and metalheads. In Eddie's personal opinion, he even smells too well to be there. But he won't deny someone who wants to play. So he sets the scene and lets the dice roll. 

It started in a tavern but with a twist. The party heard a couple of leads and depending on which one they chose, it would lead to the proper adventure or immediate trouble. To everyone's surprise, when one of the NPCs stops talking, Steve is the one to speak up.

"He's lying. It's a trap."

"How do you know?" Mike, one of the freshmen, bristles. 

Everyone raises their eyebrows at Steve, who shrinks in his seat. 

"Uh, a hunch?"

It's a very spot-on hunch and the party is right to listen to him. 

The game proceeds and Eddie is enjoying himself, much like everyone else around the table. Well, maybe except for Steve. The further they went into the game, the quieter he got.

"Pee break!" Eddie announces around the halfway point and everyone scatters to use the bathroom, refill on snacks, or smoke. He's about to stop Harrington from leaving, but he sees him saying something to Dustin with a smile, his ass firm on the chair. And soon, there's only two of them left.

"You okay, man?" he asks without preamble. "If you don't like it I can kill off your character and you can go home," he offers. Usually, he would be meaner about it, but he's seen how much the guy means to Dustin. And to Robin. And Robin means a lot to Chrissy and Chrissy means a lot to him, and so the circle closes. He's not going to be mean to Steve Harrington. He doesn't even want to.

Instead of taking the out, Steve asks him a question.

"Is Bernard the traitor?"

Eddie smirks. Maybe Steve was more invested than he seemed. 

"I'm not answering questions like that, man. It's DM confidential."

Bernard was, in fact, a traitor. 

"He's leading them to the monster as an offering, isn't he?"

"What?" Eddie frowns. Did he read his notes somehow?

"He's killed his father that way too."

That... That wasn't in the notes. Eddie didn't write it down, it was an irrelevant backstory only for him to know.

"Did you write the story?" Steve asks, his brown eyes piercing. 

Eddie licks his lips and nods stiffly. He looks at Steve's hand instinctively, having a hunch of his own on how this story unfolds. 

Steve stands up and Eddie's eyes follow, for the first time studying him properly, how he deserves. His stupid preppy polo, his perfect hair, and the moles on his cheek. He raises his hand, the D20 tattoo on display.

"Shake my hand?"

Eddie sighs.

"Wayne's gonna beat up my ass," he murmurs before grabbing the offered hand. 

He lets out an undignified yelp and Steve lets go immediately, shock on his face. It was just a millisecond sting, nothing else, followed by an electric sensation across his body. He looks at his palm, at the point where their bodies just touched.

There is a matching dice tattoo on his skin. 

He shakes the dice experimentally. It rolls and lands on fourteen. Then ten. He looks up to find Steve's eyes on him, sparkling.

"What happened?!" Lucas suddenly bursts in, probably alerted by Eddie's yell. Dustin crowds in behind him, pushing in, and Jeff peeks curiously over their heads. But before Eddie can even start to explain anything, Dustin starts screeching.

"Oh my god! Are you guys soulmates?! You're soulmates! Oh my god, that's so cool! Holy shit Steve! I knew you'd get along!"

"Dude," Steve scolds him softly. Dustin deflates just a bit but he's still jumping.

"Guys," Eddie speaks up, surprised to even find his voice. "Five more minutes?" He looks up for support from Jeff, who gives him a nod and pulls the rowdy freshmen out of the room. The door closes and he has to pay attention to Steve again. He looks back at him and finds his face carefully blank.

"Disappointed?" he asks, making Steve recoil.

"What? Why would I... What?"

Eddie shrugs. 

"It's fine if I'm not what you expected. You're not what I imagined either."

Chrissy was a surprise, so he assumed if there was another soulmate out there for him, they would be more like him. He usually pictured another metalhead, maybe a hot guitarist, a fantasy writer, or a hot groupie obsessed with his music. A preppy guy living a quiet life in Hawkins? Not in a million years. 

Steve shrugs back.

"Robin isn't what I imagined either, but we work. I don't even know you, so how can I be disappointed?"

"Touche." Eddie grimaces. "Let's hang out sometime so we can speed up the process." 

Steve rolls his eyes but takes a small step towards him. Eddie lets him grab his hand and compare the matching tattoos on their palms. They were nearly identical, but with closer scrutiny, he could see the lines on Steve's were softer than on his. 

"We could make this weekend a double date if the girls agree."

"Uh, I don't know..."

But before he can elaborate, Steve's eyes widen, and his grasp on Eddie's hand tightens minutely.

"Shit, I just assumed you're into guys. I did that with Robin too, I'm so sorry." He's pulling his hand away, face red with embarrassment, but Eddie catches his fingers.

"Uh, no, I am. Both girls and dudes. You just... you know."

"Don't look the type?" Steve raises his eyebrow with amusement. 

"Not exactly," Eddie admits sheepishly. "Okay." He exhales. "Double date, huh? Yeah, I can do that." He nods mostly to reassure himself. Steve smiles and squeezes his hand gently before easing away from his grip. The noise behind the door was getting louder, meaning everyone was back from the bathroom break and seconds away from stomping in.

"Great. I always thought your eyes are beautiful," Steve says just before the party reenters the room. 

It's a lot of yelling and explaining before they can resume the game. It becomes the most unhinged playthrough Eddie has ever witnessed due to everyone making the most outrageous decisions to throw off Steve's omnipotence and make Eddie come up with lore and plot on the spot. 

When they are gathering their stuff a couple of hours later, he's exhausted in the best way.

Steve lingers, almost kicking Dustin out of the door. He even throws him the keys to the car, something he never does, but Eddie doesn't know that. He helps him gather his notes and figurines, which he doesn't protest like he would with others. They would snoop but what's the point in snooping when you already know the whole plot?

"That was fun," Steve admits as he hands Eddie the character sheets. "It's a boomer I can't enjoy the story since I already know everything."

Eddie lets out a soft hum while arranging the papers in his bag in a way they won't get damaged. 

"Gareth's been wanting to DM for a while. It would be nice to take a break once for a change and you could play without getting the plot spoilered," he offers. 

"I'd like that." Steve smiles. Eddie grins at him.

"Okay! I think that's all," he says, looking around for any misplaced dice. "Thanks for helping me out. These bastards always make a run for it as soon as we're done."

"You just don't want them touching your stuff," Steve points out, following him to the door as he fishes out the keys to close behind them.

"That's true, yeah."

Steve hovers behind him while he closes up and Eddie decides to spare him the awkwardness.

"You can go, I still have to give these back to the janitor. I'm sure Henderson is itching to take your car for a spin in the parking lot."

Steve straightens up at the reminder.

"Shit, yeah. I better go to him." He runs his hand through his hair, hesitating for one last moment. "See you tomorrow?"

Eddie almost forgot their double date is this Saturday, but he nods at him. 

"Yeah, see you." He's about to turn around and go their separate ways when Steve leans in.

It's just a soft brush of his lips on his cheek, but Eddie's body immediately sets on fire. 

"See you," throws Steve softly before leaving.

Eddie tightens his grip on the strap of his bag. The keys are digging into the meat of his palm, into the new tattoo there. 

"Oh my god."

[Steve, relating the news.]

[1lostsoul0fishbowl]

Next Time I Fall, Chapter 16 posted!

El: so basically I’m a monster, right?

Gareth: ✨ h e a r t 😍 e y e s ✨

Read it here on Ao3!

[steddieunderdogfics]

The next CHALLENGE MONDAY assignment is:

FICS WITH CHRISSY CUNNINGHAM

These fics should feature Chrissy Cunningham in the story! This could be platonic hellcheer or a background ship.

When you submit your fic recommendations, make you sure you add a note saying it's for Challenge Monday!

Monday's recs will only be for the challenge! Any that are not used will be recommended as per usual.

--

Know a fic that deserves extra love? Submit through our asks! Suggest challenges, nominate an author for the writer's spotlight, and vote on our next theme here.

[strangerthingsfanworkrecs]

With a Little Help From My Friends by 1lostsoul0fishbowl

@1lostsoul0fishbowl

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

207,202 words, 84/84 chapters

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Vecna is Defeated (Stranger Things), Found Family, Slice of Life, Fluff, Family Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Good Parent Wayne Munson, hellcheer - Freeform, El is an empath because why the hell not, Will and Chrissy are kicking asses and taking names, everyone gets the support they need in this universe, Eddie and Max as siblings is my entire world, Erica is the official queen of Hellfire, Not Jason Carver Friendly, Steve and Robin are the ultimate dynamic duo, Wayne and Claudia are A Thing now and I love it, We ship El and Gareth in this universe, Steve Harrington Needs a Hug, Eddie Munson is a Mess, Mama Bear Stevie is Steve’s official title now, Maxine "Max" Mayfield Needs a Hug, Max actually needs ALL the hugs, The Munson-Mayfield Sibling Doctrine and the Harrington-Henderson Father/Son Doctrine are merging, it’s just one big Family Doctrine now, final chapter is HELLCHEER WEDDING

Summary:

A glimpse into post-Vecna life for the whole s4 gang… Covering two years after spring break ‘86, this collection of stories intertwines into a tale of found family, love, support, overcoming challenges, forgiveness, and the power of friendship. An assortment of “slice of life” one-shots, a little angst here and there, but mostly fluff and always a happy ending. Fairly Eddie-centric but everyone in the entire crew shows up at some point or another. Most ships are background!!! (This is much more of a found-family fic than a shippy one.) Each chapter a different POV. Enjoy the wholesomeness.

This rec is for our Artist Highlights. Our featured artist this week is 1lostsoul0fishbowl

Know a stranger things artist that deserves extra love? Submit through our asks!

[a-strange-inkling]

🖤 hellcheer

🖤 kissing while crying

(Some post tour angst)

They’re all tucked in the wide hotel bed, the television softly playing Beauty and the Beast in the background as Eddie holds his little family close to him, stroking Maggie’s curls as she sleeps on his chest. Her golden hair has gotten longer, dropping in ringlets down her face. She’s grown so much over the summer that it breaks his heart. All the things he’s missed. He’s felt so lost and lonely for these past fifty-three nights, sleeping alone, homesick without them. He kisses her forehead before glancing down at Livvy in the crook of his elbow who’s got a mini death grip on his shirt, even as she sleeps, her face nestled into his ribs. Three-years-old today. His eyes mist over as he presses his lips gently to the birthday girl's round little cheek, flushed with exhaustion, remembering how she ran to him on stage with happy tears streaming down her little face.

“They’re conked out,” he whispers lovingly, smiling as he turns to Chrissy snuggled under his right arm, her hand gently rubbing Maggie’s back across her yellow fuzzy pajamas. His smile fades when he finds her staring up at him from where she’s resting her head against his shoulder, sparkling tears welling up in her big, woeful eyes as she watches him.

“Baby,” he breathes quietly, pulling her all the tighter to him. The sight is enough to tear his warm heart out of his chest. She looks so weary, so vulnerable. She’s been so strong through all of this, taking care of everything on her own. For him.

“I just… missed you so much,” she confesses softly, stars and oceans behind her eyes. “So much.”

He feels his own tears spilling as he leans down and closes his mouth over hers tenderly, the last few months of separation still a dull throbbing ache, taking its toll on them. She holds onto his neck, her body trembling as he kisses her through their shared tears.

“We’re never doing this again,” he promises throatily when they eventually part.

“But, I can do it,” she sniffles. “I can.”

“I know you can,” he tells her solemnly as they settle in cozily with their daughters, gazing over them before returning his eyes to her. “But I can’t.”

[every-aj-needs-an-angel]

Part 4 of the Steddie Vegas AU! With a very special thanks to @estrellami-1 for fixing all my mistakes ❤️

Part 1 -- Part 2 -- Part 3

The concert was incredible! Steve didn't appreciate the band in the way his three companions did, but Metallica had put on a great show. The fans were having a ball! Even when they started what Eddie had called a mosh pit, which he'd been sceptical of at first until Eddie invited Steve to join him in it and he realised he'd never felt exhilaration like it, not with both feet on the ground anyway.

Overall, he'd had a fantastic time, a better time than he thought he'd have when they were standing in line for the venue. The fans surrounding them were dressed the same as they were, but it was almost like they could sense he didn't belong, like they could smell it on him. It wasn't like they were hostile or anything, everyone he met was super friendly, he supposed he just wasn't used to being a newbie or the odd one out.

And although very loud music really wasn't his favourite thing, he'd enjoyed being there, he'd delighted in the way Eddie lit up from the inside as soon as the first beat kicked in like all his dreams were coming true. Savoured the feeling of Eddie's hand in his, or his arm around his waist, or his legs around his neck from when a particularly tall guy had temporarily stood in front of them and Eddie was standing on his tiptoes desperately trying to see the stage, to Steve it just felt like the obvious solution! The finger to the eyeball wasn't all that fun and Eddie didn't seem too keen on being nine feet tall, but the song ended and the guy moved, and Eddie was happy enough back on the ground at Steve’s side, grinning ear-to-ear at him. Steve relished the smile Eddie sent him whenever he would recognise a song from one of Robin's many mixtapes, the first one he knew so well he was even able to sing along.

And Chris and Robin were nothing short of adorable! They spent the whole night wrapped around each other, singing together into an imaginary microphone like kids at a sleepover, dancing and screaming and jumping up and down. Stumbling home together, hand in hand, Robin so obviously falling more and more in love with every passing moment.

Honestly, it was one of the best nights of his life, revelling in the giddiness his three companions were exuding, stopping for delicious street food and heading back to Eddie and Chris' suite for the night, it was just... perfect.

Eddie's hair up his nose was the only thing that'd disturbed him from his blissful slumber. It'd been a while since he'd been the big spoon and he'd forgotten where he was supposed to put his face, and by the time he'd finally found a comfortable position, he and his stomach were wide awake.

Eddie was still sleeping peacefully, not that Steve was surprised; they hadn't exactly made sleep a priority, but it did make extracting himself from the bed all the more tricky. Not that Eddie cared, he slept like the dead. He didn't even stir as Steve wiggled his arm free from underneath him, he just kept snoring softly, still all snuggled up to the pillow he was hugging, a content smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

He knew the kitchenette was filled with goodies, he'd seen it all himself that night when Eddie had been snackish, but he was so hungry at this point he couldn't work out what he wanted and was now wishing he'd had something when Eddie had offered. He was rummaging through the cabinets when Chrissy came bounding through the front door dressed in her gym gear.

"Morning, hon!" she greeted cheerily, "Surprised you're up," she teased with a wink, making Steve grin. "Is His Royal Highness awake?" she asked, gesturing towards their bedroom door.

Steve couldn't keep the endeared smile off of his face as he thought about Eddie's face, all happy and relaxed, fast asleep and snuggled up. "Nah, still sleeping like a log," he muttered affectionately, absentmindedly rummaging through the cabinets.

Chrissy giggled, rolling her eyes with faux exasperation, "Make pancakes," she advised. "The smell of pancakes is the only thing that'll get him outta bed before noon," she informed him fondly, walking over and pulling the box out of the only cabinet Steve hadn't searched yet.

Pulling out the necessary implements and ingredients to tackle the task, he gave Chrissy a soft smile, "Thanks for the tip, the only thing I've found that works on Robin is the promise of waffles." Their new partner's similarities made them both giggle, "Speaking of, I said I'd take her to Rachel today, if you wanna join us?"

Chrissy's eyes lit up, "Really?" she asked disbelievingly, like maybe Steve was joking. Steve tried not to let his brows furrow, just smiled and nodded enthusiastically. She bounced excitedly on her toes, "That sounds so awesome! Thank you, Steve, you're so sweet!" she said, giving him a hug before heading towards her and Robin's room, her ponytail swinging wildly,"I'll just go take a shower and then I'll try to wake her."

"Good luck," Steve joked with a wave as she disappeared behind her bedroom door. God! That girl!

Being left alone in someone else's place should feel awkward, getting caught searching through their cabinets should too, but it just didn't. The four of them got along so well, it felt like they'd known each other forever. Even if in reality it'd been a little over a day, they each had easy smiles and deep affection for one another, and Steve so easily could see this life for the four of them. Sharing a space, he and Chrissy waking up early and maybe exercising together, making breakfast for the four of them, or maybe brunch if Eddie and Chrissy were going to be working late. Going to work with Robin, coming home to spend evenings together, watching movies and eating pizza, going to watch Eddie perform, going dancing together, maybe even…

He was dragged out of his musings by Eddie shuffling out of the bedroom, hooking his leg around Steve's hips and hoisting himself up to attach himself koala-style to Steve's back, "Good morning, Sunshine," Steve greeted cheerily, rebalancing himself.

"Hmmnph," came Eddie’s muffled response, huffing hot air all over the side of Steve's neck. It tickled, sending tingles down his body and making him feel giddy.

"I'll take that as good morning," Steve teased, kissing Eddie's forearm where it rested around his shoulder.

Eddie raised his chin to kiss Steve's neck, "Mornin'. Pancakes?" he asked, groggy and sleep-gruff.

Steve tried to dampen the grin on his face, but he just couldn't. Eddie was fucking adorable, all sleep rumpled and affectionate. Not that he wasn't affectionate when he was awake, it just felt amazing to have someone who was subconsciously affectionate towards him. "Yep, pancakes, especially for you," Steve declared, and when his stomach rumbled loudly, added, "And for me, 'cause I'm hungry," he admitted with a chuckle.

Eddie hummed fondly. Steve could feel Eddie's smile being pressed into the back of his neck and couldn't repress his own, nor the butterflies fluttering around in his stomach.

Steve wasn't usually one for it, spluttering words was usually Robin's forte, but he found in that moment the words just started spilling out of his mouth without really bypassing his brain, "I'm taking the girls to Rachel today, maybe you could come too? If you felt like it, you don't have to. It'd be amazing to spend the day with you, but this is your holiday. I get it if you don't wanna come-"

"Sweetheart," Eddie interrupted, gently turning Steve's head to face him, "Stop talking. I'd love to," he added, smiling so tenderly it made Steve want to burst.

"Okay," Steve murmured, blushing under Eddie's intense gaze and turning back to the pancakes as an excuse to hide it.

Eddie settled back against him, just watching him as he added the batter to the pan, flipped the pancake and slid it out onto the steadily growing pile. And although the monotony of the task was relaxing, feeling Eddie's intense gaze and his heartbeat thrumming against his back was so intimate, it thrilled Steve. He snuck a sneaky glance out of his peripheral, trying desperately not to think about what had Eddie so deep in thought.

He was losing his battle with just outright asking when the moment was abruptly interrupted by Robin barging into the living space, "There better be pancakes for me, Dingus," she yelled unnecessarily, flopping herself down on one of the sofas.

"Always," Steve called back. "Rachel today!" he reminded her, kind of excited to do something solely for his best friend for once. They did lots of things together, things they both enjoyed, but this was something just for her, something she'd wanted to do for a long time, and he was going to get to witness her in her full element. It was going to be like taking a kid to Disneyland for the first time, and honestly, he couldn't wait.

Eddie dismounted with a kiss to Steve's shoulder as Steve turned off the heat, collected the stack of pancakes and the empty plates, and headed over to the coffee table. It shocked Steve when he turned around to go back and found Eddie had Eddie grabbed the cutlery and the plate of fruits and syrups, so Steve wouldn't have to go back for them. Other than Robin, he'd never had someone who just did things like that. El and Dustin would do things when asked, Hop was the free-for-all type, everything you could possibly need already lived on the dining table and Claudia never let anyone help her do anything, mainly because her ex said some pretty nasty and uncalled for bullshit when he left. But Eddie had just helped, just like that. Steve had stood there gawking so long, Eddie just pecked him on the cheek and passed him to put the stuff down on the coffee table.

Robin was excitedly bouncing around the sofas, so much so both boys had to dodge her as they found a comfy spot around the table. Not that either of them minded, they both had affectionate grins for her childlike excitement. 

"Yes! Oh my god, I can't wait! Eddie, did you know..." she started, and Steve had to admit he kinda tuned her out a bit, he knew it wouldn't be anything he hadn't heard before, and honestly, watching the two of them interact was far more fascinating than facts about a small town.

They were amazing together, Eddie listened to Robin with rapt attention, nodding in all the appropriate places, asking questions that sent Robin deeper into a tangent instead of desperately trying to get her back on topic like some people did with her. Eddie only ever seemed to shift his attention away from her for long enough to put more pancake in his mouth or to beam softly back at Steve when he'd catch him staring.

And Robin seemed to genuinely enjoy spending time with Eddie. At the concert, he and Chrissy had gone off to the bathroom together, only to come back to Eddie and Robin dancing! He'd never seen her dance with another guy before, hell Robin would barely even dance with him, but somehow Eddie seemed to have cast a spell over her, it wasn't even forced dancing either, if anything he was pretty sure she was the one dancing with Eddie, and she was actually having fun doing it!

Steve had seen her fake her way through a friendship with the odd few people Steve had contemplated dating since Billy, but Robin, for all her wonderful qualities wasn't that good of an actor, and her friendship was far too important to fuck up. For all her eccentricities, he trusted her instincts. But she smiled genuine smiles and got into deep conversations and laughed raucously with Eddie. He'd probably be jealous if he didn't know beyond a doubt she was his soulmate and if he wasn't so smitten with Eddie himself.

Chrissy had arrived a short time after Robin began chatting away, wrapped in a fluffy dressing gown and a hair towel, but other than eating, she was similarly lost in the same world as he was. Steve liked that about her, that she was just as beguiled with his best friend as he was with hers. Because Robin deserved nothing but the best, and somehow he just knew that Chrissy was the kind of person who’d give her nothing less.

And as weird as it seemed, she felt like someone he knew. It felt almost like looking in a mirror when he looked at her, like when he watched her watching Robin, he just knew that she felt the same way about Robin as he felt about Eddie, like he could physically see her emotions flowing across the room.

Watching the three of them, he finally understood what it meant to feel content. He could've sat in his warm spot by the window watching them chatting and smiling and laughing all day. He wished he could take a picture to be able to remember it forever, but he didn't have a camera and unfortunately needed clean clothes and to pack a bag of essentials for a trip to the desert. So when all the pancakes were gone and the plates were finally empty, Steve gathered them and took them over to the kitchen sink, Chrissy following him, immediately taking the task of washing up off of his hands, and shooing him away the same way Claudia would, stating she’d already showered and Eddie and Robin were still deep in conversation, and she was happy to do it.

"Are you sure?" he asked her quietly. She just nodded, keeping one ear tilted toward the conversation going off in the lounge. Steve smiled gratefully and thanked her, disappearing off into the bedroom to steal the other ridiculously fluffy dressing gown from the back of the bathroom door. Wrapping it firmly around himself and checking he had his room key, he tried to wait for a lull in their conversation, but they were deep down a rabbit hole, so he gave up calling to the other two, "I'm gonna go take a shower and to get some clean clothes, meet back here in an hour?"

The conversation skidded to a halt as Eddie screeched, "An hour! What'll take an hour?" looking bewildered that anyone had even moved without his notice.

Steve was about to reply when Robin tutted and rolled her eyes, "His hair," she grumbled. She'd always hated how long he spent on haircare, her eyes had nearly bugged out when she'd been with him when he'd first bought new products. It didn't faze him, though, even now with all three of them giving him the same bemused look.

Steve headed for the door, shrugging, "Some of us aren't blessed with naturally perfect locks, sue me," he yelled as he left, letting the door fall shut behind him, heading downstairs to his room for a shower, taking the stairs for the same reason he’d borrowed the dressing gown instead of getting dressed: he didn't want anyone to think he was doing the walk of shame. People strolled around the hotel in the fluffy white robes, heading to the pool or the spa or even to breakfast, but wandering around in nighttime clothes with last night's eyeliner still smudged under your eyes said things about his night he didn't want anyone to think.

Luckily, he made it all the way to his room without bumping into anyone, sliding the key into the lock and shutting himself inside with a sigh. The light on the answering machine was flashing again, he knew it wouldn’t be his parents, but he wouldn’t be surprised if it was a lawyer. Steve pushed himself off the door and wandered over to hit the button. Thankfully it was just El. “Stevie! Dad’s trying to book a flight, so unless you want him crashing your sex holiday, I suggest you call. him. back! Love you!” Beep. Shit! He sat on the edge of the bed and called the cabin, it rang and rang but no one answered, he tried the station, but Flo just told him Hop wasn't on shift, but she’d let him know he called when she saw him. Steve just kept hoping he wasn’t too late! Claud! She’ll know how to get a hold of him! The phone rang a few times before Dustin picked up, “Hullo!”

“Dustin! It’s me.”

“Steve-o! Got my book?”

“What? No, not yet!” Steve snapped, “Your mom home?”

“Nope! She’s buying supplies for our epic tournament! Why?”

“Need to know where Hop is. Can you get El on the walkie?”

“Nope!”

“Why not?”

“Why haven’t you got my book yet?”

“I will, alright! I just haven’t had time to go shopping!”

“Like brother, like sister,” Dustin muttered and Steve could hear him shaking his head against the phone.

“Huh?”

“The reason I can’t get El on the walkie is because she’s too busy sucking face with Max! Which I’m assuming, and please don’t actually confirm, is the so-called reason you’re too busy to get my book!” Dustin grumbled.

“You’d be sucking face too if your girlfriend didn’t live a couple thousand miles away!” Steve points out.

“Touché! Hang on!” Steve heard Dustin put the phone on the counter, then the rustling sounds of him moving around and the static of the walkie as he picks the phone back up, “Max! Code red. Pick up!”

There was a pause and then Steve could just about hear Max shouting, “I swear to God, Henderson, this better be important! I’m talking life or death! Or you will. be. sorry!” 

Steve couldn't help chuckling to himself, no-one liked to be interrupted mid-make-out, but Max always had to take it to the next level. 

Dustin swallowed audibly before squeaking out, “Steve needs to know where Hop is!”

There was a pause and then El had the walkie, “Are you talking to Steve?”

“Yeah, he’s on the phone, where’s Hop?” Dustin enquired.

“He’s at Joyce’s, tell him dad’s flipping his shit!”

“I know!” Steve answered, even though chances are El can’t hear him.

“He says he knows!” Dustin repeated for him, because although he’s a little shit, he’s a good kid really.

“Okay, tell him I love him!” El yelled into the walkie.

“I’m not saying that!” Dustin huffed.

“Tell her I love her too!” Steve returned with a grin, because he does, but knowing it has the added bonus of annoying Dustin too makes it all the sweeter to say.

“I’m not saying that either!” Dustin squawked indignantly.

“You’re not saying what?” El asked at the same time as Steve adds, “Okay, shitheads, I love you all, I’m going to talk to Hop.” And just before hanging up, he hears Dustin mumble into the walkie, “He said he loves us!” making Steve grin wildly.

Luckily he still remembers the Byers’ number from his babysitting days. He punches in the code and then the number and swings his feet by the bed while it rings.

“What?” Hop snapped. Apparently, Max and El aren’t the only ones I interrupted!

“Hop, it’s Steve.”

“Fucking hell, kid! Where’ve you been?” Hop grumbled, but it had relief in it.

“Sorry. Vegas is wild!” Steve replied, as an excuse and an explanation.

“Too damn right! Did you really get married?” he asked, sounding kind of disappointed.

“Yep. I was too drunk to even remember doing it,” Steve admitted, sounding kind of disappointed himself, not that he did it, just that he doesn't really remember doing it.

“Joining the lonely and divorced club, then?” Hop only half joked. Steve vaguely remembers yelling that at Hop once upon a time after he’d broken up one of Steve’s parties, sending everyone home and leaving him in the silence of that massive empty house. He hadn’t meant it, doesn’t mean Hop hadn’t felt it, definitely gave him the right to tease Steve with it.

“No!” Steve asserted quickly, “Not if I can help it, no,” he confides because if anyone would understand it’d be Hop. And he did.

“Must be special,” Hop wondered aloud.

“So special! I could talk about him all day, but I’m taking Bobbie to Rachel today, I have to go,” Steve whined, because he really does want to stay on the phone with his dad and gush about his husband!

“Okay, okay, I’ll let you go. Just be careful, okay, kid?” Hop muttered affectionately.

“I will,” Steve assured him, “Love you!” he added, because he did.

“Love you, too” Hop replied before hanging up.

---------

Steve sighed heavily as he put the phone down, the silence of the room ringing loudly in his ears. He hated it, got up to turn the shower on, to warm the water and to fill the emptiness he felt now he’s finally well and truly alone. He absentmindedly twisted his ring around his finger, thinking about that one part of their wedding he could remember, wondering if maybe, just maybe, Eddie would like to do it again. Sober this time, with some friends and some family, I wonder if El’s too old to be a flower girl? The woods around the cabin would be nice! We could hang fairy lights! Steve stepped under the warm spray and let his mind run away with him, hoping that maybe, just maybe, this little daydream would come true.

Part 5

Tag list @gregre369 @adhdsummer @newtstabber @nerdfighteratheart @anaibis @hbyrde36 @dolphincliffs @marinarasarah just lmk if you want removing 💖

[ghostlynimbus]

WIP Weekend

(I was not tagged in this but I saw other people doing it and thought it'd be fun to join in)

send me an emoji and i’ll write and share ~ 3 sentences of that WIP

(you can send more than one if you want! also alternatively please feel free to ask a question about the fic!)

-

🔠 - ABC's of Kink - A ( stranger things - harringrove / open to ship and kink requests for other letters )

💕 - A Little Valentine's Magic - ( stranger things - harringrove )

🐺 - A Place To Belong ( stranger things - harringrove / planned eventual side fic ft hellcheer )

🛏️ - B&B AU ( stranger things - harringrove )

🌞 - California Sunrise ( stranger things - harringrove / planned eventual sequel fics ft hellcheer buckleway and jargyle )

☕ - Cinnamon Spice ( stranger things - harringrove / planned eventual sequel fic ft hellcheer )

❤️‍🩹 - Command Me To Be Well ( stranger things - hellcheer / background harringrove )

🏥 - Danger Prone ( stranger things - harringrove )

🐶 - Discount Dog ( stranger things - harringrove )

🐉 - Dragon Draco AU ( harry potter - drarry )

🦇 - From Ashes ( stranger things - harringrove / planned eventual sequel fic featuring hellcheer )

🌸 - Godsverse AU ( stranger things - hrringrove / planned eventual side fic ft hellcheer )

🥀 - Hawkins Hospice House ( stranger things - harringrove / background hellcheer buckleway and jargyle )

🌳 - Hawthorn & Amaryllis ( harry potter - drarry )

🎄 - Holiday at the Harrington's ( stranger things - harringrove )

🧭 It's Not The Sky I'm Asking For ( stranger things - harringrove / planned eventual sequel fic ft hellcheer )

🕯️- Love Spells & Other Bad Ideas ( stranger things - harringrove )

💍 - Matchmaker Omegaverse ( harry potter - drarry )

✒️ - Permanent Ink ( stranger things - harringrove )

🫴 - Solitary Soul ( stranger things - harringrove )

🐟 - Son of the Sea ( stranger things - harringrove )

💭 - Stray Thoughts ( stranger things - hellcheer )

🦸 - Superhero AU ( stranger things - harringrove )

🪦 - The Disadvantages of Being Dead ( stranger things - harringrove )

⚔️ - The Prince & His Knight ( stranger things - harringrove / planned eventual sequel fic ft hellcheer buckleway lumax and jopper )

🍼 - There's A Rumor Going 'Round (About Me & You) ( stranger things - hellcheer )

🐣 - There's A Rumor / Harringrove ( stranger things - harringrove )

⁉️ - What The Fuck Is An Omega? ( It - reddie )

🪽 - Wings AU ( stranger things - harringrove / planned eventual side fic ft hellcheer )

🩹 - Your History On My Skin ( stranger things - harringrove )

Tagging people in this sort of thing still makes me too anxious, but if you would like to do this please consider yourself tagged!

[cyraclove]

Happy Sunday, have a little hellcheer thing that I needed to evict from my brain:

Eddie is ten years old. He wakes up around the same time he usually does on Saturday mornings and shuffles into the bathroom, bleary-eyed and barefooted.

It’s quiet this morning. There’s no coffee maker gurgling, no newspaper rustling. He doesn’t hear the muffled sound of a newscaster droning on about the weather. That’s weird.

As he runs his toothbrush under the faucet, Eddie thinks back to the night before. His dad had come home late, tearing through the house looking for something. His words were slushy as he stumbled around, muttering something about a suitcase.

Eddie had watched him for a while until he tired himself out and slumped into his armchair like he usually did. He’d still be there in the morning, wearing the same clothes as the night before.

He isn’t, though. Not this morning.

Furrowing his brow, Eddie pokes his head into his father’s room. The bed’s empty, still made.

“Dad?”

There’s no answer, just the soft clink and whir of the ceiling fan above him.

Eddie walks out and into the kitchen, a strange tightness in his chest. Sunlight streams in through the window above the kitchen sink, but there’s not a single light on. Nearly all of the cabinet doors have been left open.

A rusted, red Folgers coffee can lays toppled over on the counter. There are two quarters on the floor right beneath it. Fifty cents, Eddie thinks to himself. Two more and he’d have a whole dollar.

The front door creaks open and Eddie startles, whipping his head toward the sound.

“Dad?”

It’s not his dad. A tall, graying man with a sad, weary smile stands in the doorway. Eddie recognizes him from pictures and a couple of Christmases. He looks older than the last time he’d seen him.

“Uncle Wayne?”

Wayne sighs as he crosses the room toward Eddie. His eyes are wet as he looks down at him. “Hey, kiddo,” he says softly. “Still in your jammies, huh?”

Something icky gurgles in the pit of Eddie’s stomach, the same feeling he gets when he knows he’s done something to make his father mad. This isn’t right.

“Where’s dad?”

Eddie sees Wayne wince, swallowing hard. He pauses, like he’s not sure what to say. “Listen, Ed—“

Before Wayne can finish, Eddie darts past him and all but crashes into the screen door, running out onto the deck. The wood is gritty and wet from the rain the night before. His father’s truck is gone.

Eddie’s face is hot and his eyes sting as he looks around. There’s no one outside but him.

“Dad?”

The wind whines through the trees.

“Dad?”

A dog barks from behind the fence next door.

“Dad?”

Eddie swivels toward the unfamiliar voice, gentle and kind. Machines beep and hum in the background as he stands next to a hospital bed, his clammy hand wrapped tightly around the plastic bedrail.

A nurse in a papery yellow gown smiles up at him as she cradles a snugly swaddled, ruddy-faced newborn.

Eddie’s throat is thick. His voice sounds all croaky when he speaks. “Me?”

“Yes, you,” the nurse chuckles. “You ready to meet your boy?”

The air leaves Eddie’s lungs when the baby is placed gently in his arms, a wiggly, fussy little thing that can’t possibly weigh any more than a dictionary. He’s soft and warm and staring right up at Eddie with big, pale blue eyes.

Eddie turns to Chrissy, laying in the hospital bed looking breathless and beautiful. She’s sweaty and starlit and beaming at him, her lashes glittery and damp.

“A boy?” he asks her. They’d waited to find out. “Did she say boy?”

Chrissy nods, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand. Yesterday’s mascara smears her cheek as she gives him a sniffly smile.

The mattress dips as Eddie gingerly sits on the edge of the bed next to Chrissy, her hand resting on his thigh. She’s all wires and medical tape and hospital bracelets. She’s amazing.

He stares down at the little boy nestled into the crook of his arm, at their son. Chrissy leans her head on his shoulder and his heart feels too big for his ribcage.

“Hey, kiddo,” he murmurs. “Happy birthday.”