#the breakdown with hopper

[lunabug2004]

And if I say Finn's acting in season 2 is one of the best performances in the whole show, what then?

[morganbritton132]

This little idea (or this one) hasn’t left me yet so suffer through more of my ramblings.

Look, Eddie was gonna stay away from Steve.

He watched Steve swipe Billy’s keys off a table at lunch and then chuck them into the woods behind the school last week, and decided that he wants no part of that.

If King Steve is testing out teen rebellion, that’s fine but Eddie is eighteen and he doesn’t have rich boy money to bail him out when shit hits the fan. So…

He keeps his distance. He goes to class. He misses three days of school because he’s got laryngitis again. Now he’s sitting in a booth at the diner, miserably eating ice cream and watching Steve Harrington stroll in.

Steve didn’t have to sit with him. The diner was practically empty because it was 10:30AM on a Tuesday when everybody else is at school. So, no. Steve didn’t have to slide in across from him.

“I’m not driving you anywhere.”

“I wasn’t going to ask,” Steve says like Eddie was weird for thinking he might. “Got my car back. You sound awful, by the way.”

Eddie doesn’t say anything else because his throat is on fire, but Steve talks. He talks largely about nothing but in that way that you do when you haven’t talked to anybody in a long time which makes no sense. Steve is popular.

Eddie kinda spaces out because he doesn’t care about baseball, but his attention snaps back into focus ten minutes later when a hand clamps down on Steve’s shoulder. Steve is too casual, “Hey, Hop.”

“How’d the appointment go?” Hopper asks in a voice that sounds like it’s physically being restrained. “The MRI, right? Everything come back clear?”

“Clear as crystal, Chief,” Steve replies. “Got the uh, the A-Okay. Back to normal.”

“Uh-huh,” Hopper nods and then yanks Steve up by his shirt. “Then why’d Owens say you were a no show?”

Steve sputters. This is the first time Eddie’s ever seen him lost for words, but it doesn’t last as Steve scoffs, “That’s like a health code violation!”

He doesn’t get to say much else because Hopper pulls him out of the building. Eddie watches them argue in the parking lot and then pays his bill.

He’s leaving when Hopper marches back into the building but is luckily spared a glance from the chief. He’s not sure if Hopper even noticed him sitting there and he is fine with that.

What Eddie should do is get in his van and go home, but instead, he finds himself walking towards where Steve is waiting next to Hopper’s truck. As he gets closer, he sees that Steve is less waiting and more handcuffed to the side mirror so he can’t leave.

Steve rolls his eyes about the whole thing when he notices Eddie and then offers him a cig from the pack he stole out of the truck’s open window. Eddie shakes his head so Steve pockets the pack before asking, “You can pick a lock, right? I’ve seen you do it before.”

Eddie almost asks ‘when?’ but just sighs instead because…yes. He can.

Hopper returns to his truck five minutes later with coffee to an open handcuff dangling from his mirror. No kid in sight.

[estrellami-1]

If I Should Stay

Part 1 | . . . | Part 51 | Part 52 | Part 53

“You wish,” Steve teases, then looks wide-eyed at Robin. “What about all the pictures we have?”

“We’ll take new ones,” she assures him, then grins. “And hey, maybe Starcourt will be built, without the Russian base underneath.”

Steve hums. “Maybe then I could avoid one of the concussions from Billy.”

Robin freezes suddenly. “Steve,” she says, “is it a good idea for the party to meet Max? Because of the first concussion from Billy? That wasn’t Upside Down related, was it?”

Steve grimaces. “He’d been Flayed at that point, yeah. Even if he is a racist asshole, I can’t imagine him coming after us like that again.”

Robin hums. “But if he does-”

“Tell me,” Eddie says suddenly, “does he like Mary Jane? Because I can make sure he never sees her again if he goes after Steve.”

Robin blinks at him, then begins to grin. “Sorry, Stevie, Eddie’s my new favorite.”

Eddie laughs and fist-bumps her. “Likewise, Birdie.”

“Hey!” Steve says, faux-affronted. It’s ruined by the grin he can’t hide.

El pokes gently at Steve’s arm, then the waffle iron when he looks at her. “It’s done.”

“Ah,” he says, opening it. “Thank you, Ellie. Mind getting me a plate?” He grins at her. “Without grabbing it?”

El grins. Without moving, she opens a cabinet, floats a plate out to Steve, then shuts the cabinet again. She wipes underneath her nose, then grins at Steve. “No blood!”

“That’s great!” He celebrates with her, offering her a high-five. “You think you’re ready?”

“I’m still scared,” she tells him. “But yes. I do.”

“Y’know something else?” Steve asks. “Vecna needed four more years to be strong enough to do what he did. You needed two more days. I think you’re much stronger than he is right now.”

“Speaking of the big bad,” Eddie interjects, nibbling on a corner of his waffle, “shouldn’t we go over the plan?”

Steve sighs. “Probably,” he agrees.

“I think we should wait for everyone,” Alli says. “Let’s just have as normal a morning as we can for right now.”

Steve smiles at his sister. “Sure, Al,” he says, then rolls his eyes when she pulls him into a hug and ruffles his hair.

“Love you, Bubba,” she murmurs into his ear, and he can’t help but to melt into her hug.

“Love you too, Al,” he murmurs back, then grins at her. “How about grilled cheese when we all make it outta this intact?”

“I think that sounds like an excellent idea,” she nods, then steps away. “I’m gonna call Cass. Come and get me when everyone’s here?”

“Will do,” he nods, and she smiles in response as she walks off.

Eddie pulls his feet up onto the counter he’s sitting on, looping his arms around his knees. “So, Cassidy is Alli’s-?”

“Girlfriend,” Steve nods. He takes another waffle out of the iron and scrapes the last of the batter into it. “It makes me wonder how I would’ve ended up, if I had her the entire time, y’know? Cause I know I was an asshole. And I’m trying not to be anymore.”

“You’re succeeding,” both Robin and Eddie say at the same time, then excitedly point at each other.

Steve laughs and shakes his head. “Thanks. But I wonder, if I’d had her the entire time, would I have ever gotten as bad as I did? Would I have ever worked at Scoops or Family Video and met you, Robin? Would any of his have ever happened in the first place?”

He only notices his hand is shaking when Robin gently takes his fork and puts it down, then grabs both his hands in hers. “Squeeze,” she requests, and he does, letting out a harsh breath and resting their foreheads together.

“Sorry,” he mutters.

“Shuddup,” Robin says. He laughs.

After a few seconds, he pulls away to look at her. “Am I being crazy?”

“I think you’re being exactly as sane as taking this mission in the first place makes either of us, Dingus, I don’t think either of us were all there in the first place.”

Steve giggles. “I think you may be right.”

“Maybe you would’ve been different,” Eddie says. He’s taking the last waffle out of the iron. “Maybe you wouldn’t have. Maybe all of this would’ve happened, and maybe it wouldn’t have. Maybes aren’t gonna change anything that’s currently happening. All we can do is our best to get through it.”

El slips between Steve and Robin and wraps her arms around Steve’s waist. “I can do things you can’t,” she says quietly. “But I can’t see the future. I don’t know what could’ve happened. But I know I’m glad that you’re here now.”

Steve sighs contentedly and wraps her in his arms. “Me too.”

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[supernxvas]

if i had a nickel… for every time an actor appears in Exactly 2 of my favorite medias… i’d have 3 nickels. is that anything?

tom hopper as sir percival (merlin) and billy bones (black sails)

aml ameen as capheus onyango (sense8) and alby (the maze runner)

charlize theron as andromache the scythian (the old guard) and furiosa (mad max: fury road)

[c-is-for-circinate]

I would love to hear more mike wheeler - Steve Harrington masculinity thoughts (also whatever happened to Hopper to make him action guy my beloathed)! Also will we get a mike chapter for and they were married?

Okay yes! I am fascinated by Mike and Steve as narrative contrasts, and I always find myself looking for fic where the two of them meaningfully interact, and I keep meaning to write about them.

(Also: Mike deserves his own chapter of that fic, but he's getting folded into Dustin's. What Mike really deserves is his own fic that takes place in that universe, because I know what his deal is there and it's a doozy, but that is a very different post.)

Anyway! For starters, I don't think that Steve and Mike are intentionally meant to be foils. There's an element of it in the first season, where Steve exists to support Nancy's character, and Nancy and Mike are meant to be foils -- Steve is the Popular Kid, the antithesis of Mike and his friends' little group of nerds, he and Tommy and Carol are written into the same category as Troy but older and less actively murderous, and the fact that Nancy's dating him says things about her -- but they end up occupying oddly similar spaces and cool parallels come out of that anyway.

A core thing about it is that Steve and Mike are both the guy in their respective age group casts on the show. The Guy. The central one, the normal one, the presumed-to-be-straight one -- and yes, this is fandom and we have Opinions about that, but the Duffer brothers think they're both straight, and that matters here. They're white, they're able-bodied, they have money. They are, in a sense, normal.

Narratively, they very often act as central/POV character for scenes they're in, at least once Steve gets past the fistfight in S1 and awakens to the fact that he's a person who can make decisions. And that makes sense, because being The Guy also means they're the closest to the classic TV protagonist archetype, the guy who does the hero shit and gets the girl in the end. Hopper is also The Guy, and always has been: in S1 it's just him and Joyce, but even as we add more adults, the only real challenge to his The Guy status is Bob (which is of course why Bob had to die). Murray is a bizarre conspiracy nut, and queer-coded besides that. Owens is an affable bad guy. Alexei and Dmitri and Yuri are all Russian.

Being The Guy comes with a certain amount of baggage. All three of them have to be romantic leads, and have to be crossed in love about it. All three of them are protectors in one way or another. And all three of them are on occasion assholes who have one hell of a time with sincerity and affection.

And this is where we get into Toxic Masculinity, because again, while I don't think the Duffers intended a pile of parallels between these three guys, well. Firstly, The Guy as an archetype is built on a pile of toxic masculine stereotypes, so that's often there to begin with. Secondly, it's the same writers, so certain themes rhyme whether they're intended to or not.

In particular, one of the core tenets of toxic masculinity, not just in ST but as a thing in the world, is when and where it's acceptable to experience soft emotions of affection, care, and vulnerability. The first rule of toxic masculinity is don't. The second rule, the caveat rule, is a little asterisk saying 'except, occasionally, with a female romantic partner, if you absolutely must.'

And so we actually see a lot of unfolding of this in Steve! One thing we know about Steve, without precisely being told, is that he's deeply lonely -- for a popular kid he sure seems to only have two Actual Friends when the show starts and they hardly seem to even like each other. He has a new Favorite Person every season, and he clings to them with the joy of a devoted golden retriever. His mental image of happily-ever-after is a house full of kids with enough siblings to never get lonely, family vacations about close quarters and spending time together. We never see his parents. For all a lot of the 'horrible abuse' fanon is very much fanon, Steve is inarguably a lonely kid. And where do we see him reaching out for affection?

It's not Tommy and Carol, although until they break up he's constantly in their company unless he's alone with Nancy. They hardly even seem to like each other very much, and yet they've stayed at his empty house enough for Tommy to know about his mother's fireplace and Steve to insist he do laundry while he's here. No, the person who Steve is allowed to feel things with and for is Nancy, because she's the caveat, she's the exception. This is why Steve is consistently focused on getting Nancy back, getting a new girlfriend, getting a date. That's the rule!!!

The really fabulous thing about Steve's arc across the first three seasons, and even into S4, is that this quest for romantic affection and vulnerability is both thwarted and rewarded again and again. He tries to apologize to Nancy, to win her back: by the time he sees her again, Nancy's got a new boyfriend, but Steve has a new brother. Dustin is Steve's favorite person by the start of S3; he gets Steve's haircare secrets, he gets Steve's loyalty, he gets Steve's joy. In S3, Steve tries to pour his whole heart into a different girlfriend, and Robin turns him down flat while also simultaneously opening herself up with such vulnerability that they instantly become best friends. Robin is S4's Favorite Person, but the great thing about these relationships being platonic is that Steve gets to have more than one! He gets to have both Dustin and Robin in his life! He gets the other kids as part of the package! Bit by bit, instead of a girlfriend who Steve is "allowed" to be soft with, Steve gains actual friends who he gets to be real with whether it's allowed or not.

And the really tragic thing about Mike Wheeler is that he's doing the opposite. Mike starts out with three friends, three best friends, absolutely devoted to one another. As kids, they're young enough to be free of most of the stranglehold of toxic masculinity yet, although of course it's starting. And then there's El.

Mike charts a really interesting course over four seasons, and the shape of it is not a straight trajectory from 'Mike adores and is BFF with Will' to 'Mike thinks only about El.' Hell, from what we see of S1, the Party are all best friends pretty equally before Will goes missing -- Lucas is the one ready to break into a government lab for him, not Mike. Mike's trajectory is far more 'I derive the bulk of my personal self-worth from protecting other people, and as soon as somebody needs to be saved I go fully into Paladin Mode, making me feel worthwhile and important." It just so happens that the two people in Mike's field of vision who most generally need protection and saving are Will and El. Which leads to Mike's intense Will-focused devotion in S2 (El is gone but Will is also in really significant need, and Mike just straight-up activates, jumping immediately into solicitously taking care of his friend because Something Needs Doing And I Can Do It). And Mike's intense El-focused devotion in S4, where El needs a literal quest to come and rescue her. And just a lot of Mike in general.

The problem with all of that is the part where, unlike Steve who keeps forging new platonic relationships, Mike keeps neglecting his more and more. The S3 Will fight is so good at illustrating that, because look -- we all know Will has a crush on Mike, but at no point during that fight does Will ask, even subtextually, for romantic attention. He's asking for platonic attention, which Mike is absolutely failing to give. "Where's Dustin right now? You don't know, and you don't even care." But as Mike says, they're not kids any more -- and this is how growing up is supposed to work!

(Note: I don't want to say that it's toxic for Mike to be in love with El, or really caught up in that relationship -- he's fourteen! she's his first girlfriend! he thought she was dead! But Mike's an asshole in S3 because he's caught up enough to not notice his friend's feelings until they explode at him, and yeah, I do think part of that is because he knows he's Not Supposed To.)

S4 is a lot, because here's where we're really seeing the culmination of a lot of what Mike's been unfortunately moving towards. We've hit a point where those vulnerable feelings that Mike's allowed to share, at most, with his girlfriend, feel like too much to even share with his girlfriend. He can't say 'I love you'. He can't even talk to Will. The conversation he does have with Will is honestly mostly about Mike and his feelings of inadequacy, of not measuring up, not being special, but it has to be couched in the context of El. If there's a reverse-Bechdel test to be done on S4, past the very first episode I'm pretty sure Mike fails it -- I don't think he has a single conversation that isn't about his girlfriend in one capacity or another.

In contrast, S4 Steve is, yes, pretty focused on girls-in-general and Nancy-in-specific, and yeah, there's a little bit of backsliding going on there. But he's also having conversations with Robin about her fears and longings, having weird little interludes where Eddie's the one bringing up Nancy rather than Steve himself. He's hurt at the end when Nancy is clearly still with Jonathan, but he's able to move on, to go fold clothes and care about Robin's love life instead of his own -- his optimistic happy ending in S4 is that his best friend is going to get the girl, not him.

I think there's a lot more to say, which I only brushed on briefly here, about other aspects of Mike and Steve that work in parallel or contrast -- their protector thing, which feels very intrinsic but shows up very differently in both of them, the way Steve says 'I love you' so easily and Mike has trouble saying it at all, the way they are both very much extremely normal guys, at least on paper. There's so much to say. I think that has to be a different post.

I will say, in terms of Hopper: Jim Hopper is what it looks like when those pent-up feelings that you aren't allowed to express to anybody other than a romantic partner sit and fester for decades. Fuck, there were things about Vietnam he didn't even tell his wife, that sat like poison both emotional and biological between them. When we meet him in S1, he's processing grief with drugs and drinking and processing fear with rage. He has spent so much of the past four seasons processing fear as rage.

Of course Joyce is the one person he's allowed to, sometimes, on occasion, be soft with. Of course nearly his every interaction with Mike is macho dominance posturing. Of course the entire trajectory of his relationship with El is a push-pull of Hopper retreating into authoritarianism and anger instead of the terror of honesty, and then getting to see the consequences of that when his daughter pulls away. Every season has broken him down a little more that way, but then the yo-yo pulls back (Season 3 whyyyyyyyyy). By Season 4, he's been beaten and starved and frozen and shattered enough that we get maybe the most honest monologue of his life, to a Russian prison guard, because they're about to die so what do the rules matter any more. It's a clear window into an endless pit of self-loathing, because for twenty or thirty years Hopper's been letting those feelings eat in instead of out, and bit by bit they've been devouring him.

El is hope, for him, and Joyce is hope, and the cracks that broke open in Kamchatka to maybe let in a little more air that might not seal right back up again are hope. But it's hard. It's hard! It makes him an absolute asshole, including and especially towards the people he wants most to protect. (And there's that protector thing again.)

Anyway, I am on the record as liking Steve a lot and having very little patience for Mike and Hopper, but like. They're not that different, at their core. They just put the pieces together in a different order.

[eeriesilkworm]

There's a real possibility we get a Will Byers centric love triangle in ST5

We know the Duffers love a good love triangle.

So much so, they've given us one (or several) in every season of Stranger Things thus far—and I don’t think they’ll break that streak in Season 5.

One thing I’ve noticed is that while some love triangles stretch across multiple seasons (like Steve/Nancy/Jonathan), the writers also introduce at least one new triangle each season.

Here’s a quick breakdown:

S1: Steve / Nancy / Jonathan S2: Steve / Nancy / Jonathan + Joyce / Hopper / Bob + Lucas / Dustin / Max S3: Robin / Steve / Tammy + Joyce / Hopper / Alexei + Joyce / Hopper / Mr Clarke S4: Steve / Nancy / Jonathan + Mike / El / Will + Robin / Vickie / Vickie's ex-boyfriend S5: Steve / Nancy / Jonathan (likely resolved) + Mike / El / Will (will come to a head) + ???

Sometimes they’re played straight, but the writers also love to openly mock the love triangle trope, too—especially in Season 3:

For example, Hopper gets irrationally jealous over Joyce talking to Mr Clarke and even Alexei—prompting Joyce’s sarcastic line about how every man she talks to must be her boyfriend. And of course, there's Steve wrongly assuming Robin has a crush on him, then confessing to her, only to find out she actually liked Tammy Thompson.

Basically, there’s no one way the writers use this trope. They clearly enjoy it—but more importantly, they enjoy subverting it.

So, call me delusional but I think it's likely that we could be getting another Will Byers love triangle in Season 5:

He's the main character of the season and his arc will (partially), revolve around his "coming of age" and acceptance of his sexuality, after all.

Will has consistently been portrayed as someone who is considered attractive or desirable in-universe. In every season except Season 3, a girl shows interest in him despite his nerdiness and perceived queerness.

And now, it looks like the Duffer Brothers are visually rebranding him as a romantic lead:

His new hair and costume design feels both heroic and boyish. The flannel—once a staple of his wardrobe and a symbol of his innocence—is slowly being phased out, suggesting a gradual loss of that innocence. However, he’s still buttoned up. That tells me Will is stepping into his manhood (and by extension, his sexuality), but he's still holding something back. He's going to need to be pushed out of his comfort zone; both physically and emotionally.

Even narratively, there are established links which hint at a possible non-Mike love interest:

When we look back at Will’s comment about not falling in love, we often read it as foreshadowing his feelings for Mike—or hinting that he already is in love with him. But I also interpret it as something more: Will doesn’t believe he will ever inspire love (or romantic attraction). He sees himself as undesirable.

Think about the four original members of the Party. Yes, they’re all considered uncool nerds to some degree—yet three of them are affirmed through romantic connection: Lucas has Max. Dustin has Suzie. Mike has El. They each receive validation and the feeling of being wanted.

Will does not.

And yet, the writers have made a consistent effort to show us that Will is considered attractive—despite his belief that he isn’t, and despite the lack of romantic validation he receives. That creates a real disconnect. A kind of cognitive dissonance.

Having Will repeatedly receive attention from girls—only to reject them or appear disinterested—was an effective way to subtly hint at his queerness. But it’s happened so many times now, that there needs to be a payoff.

What is the long-term point of making the canonically gay kid, who already believes he’s undesirable, only receive interest from women?

Er, there isn’t one.

It makes sense, then, to give Will the opportunity to experience mutual same-sex attraction with someone who isn't Mike.

Because Will's arc about accepting his sexuality doesn't just have to culminate in the realization that Mike loves him too (as sweet as that is).

It should culminate with the knowledge that queerness is valid, that he is considered desirable and worthy of romantic interest, and that he isn't alone in experiencing queerness.

Additionally, as mentioned above, Will is already perceived as queer—he’s been bullied for it his entire life, despite never explicitly coming out. Hawkins is a small town where word travels fast. So if there is another young gay guy in town, chances are… they’ve already heard of “Zombie Boy” Will Byers.

He'd certainly be on their radar: he’s good-looking, he’s mysterious, and he’s still closeted, which means he’d likely be discreet.

And let’s not forget where Will was emotionally at the end of Season 4, especially regarding his feelings for Mike:

He’s starting from ground zero in Season 5. He has zero hope that Mike feels the same way, and he’s likely going to be making zero moves.

In fact, most Byler theorists agree—it makes sense that Mike will have to be the initiator in Season 5. Will is just too emotionally shut down to make the first move.

But… wait a minute.

If this season is supposed to be about Will coming into his own as a young gay man—about self-acceptance, confidence, and owning his identity—how does that make sense if Mike is the one initiating everything?!

Well… maybe Mike needs to make the first move when it comes to Byler. But that doesn’t mean Will has to stay passive the whole season.

It’s possible that Will could gain some much-needed confidence—maybe even a bit of romantic “practice”—by taking a more active role with someone else first.

Giving Will a (temporary) new love interest would also level-out the playing field between himself and Mike:

There's a real sense of karmic justice and ironic foreshadowing in Stranger Things.

Will's jealousy of Mike and El's relationship has been hinted at for two seasons now—and he even complained that Mike only called a couple times while El had a "book of letters" from him.

What’s interesting is that even after Mike takes accountability for their argument and they make up, that specific comment—about the phone calls and letters—is never addressed. It lingers.

That’s why I think we could see a similar conversation (or even a full-blown argument) between Mike and Will in Season 5. But this time, Will might be the one receiving phone calls or letters—from someone else.

And let’s not forget: it’s possible that the Byers are temporarily staying with the Wheelers in Season 5. If Will has a secret admirer, and he’s trying to keep it quiet, Mike is going to find out. (Excellent way to manufacture drama).

I also feel compelled to reiterate that the Duffers have shown time and time again: they can handle love triangles in many different ways.

They can play it for comedy. They can make it completely one-sided or delusional—like Mike projecting his own jealousy, much like Hopper did with Joyce in Season 3. A love triangle doesn’t have to be serious or long-lasting. It could span multiple episodes, or just one. It could involve a kiss—or zero physical contact at all.

And it doesn’t have to disrupt a Byler endgame—in fact, quite the opposite:

Seeing Will Byers receive romantic attention from another male character would serve as a reminder to the audience that Will is desirable and that he has options—this increases the stakes for Mike.

The GA will start wondering if this is really Will's endgame, and if he is truly ready to get over Mike. The GA, especially those who never shipped Byler before, may find themselves unexpectedly invested. They might even feel disappointed or sad at the thought of Will "moving on."

It also creates space for the writers to show us jealous Mike. Just as we've seen jealous, longing Will, a temporary love triangle allows us to explore Mike’s feelings through that same lens of romantic insecurity.

This brings the possibility of Byler to the forefront of the GA's subconscious. At the same time, it invites them to root for Mike, and therefore Byler.

[stevie-petey]

NOW YOU’RE A STRANGER (AND I’M STILL JULY)

season three of "come home"

a lot can change in a year, and when summer comes to hawkins, you think you're finally okay with this idea. you've settled things with jonathan, nancy is now your friend, and steve harrington calls you angel. then dustin intercepts a secret russian code and your grand plans of you and robin teasing steve all summer, and maybe even falling in love, all come crashing down. (meanwhile all steve wants to do is ask you out). (but the russians complicate things). (as usual).

episode one: suzie, do you copy?

you help nancy sneak through jonathans window, the party uses you for your "in" with steve, and you sorta become the reason dustin almost blinds lucas. meanwhile, steve tries, and fails, to make you his girlfriend (this will happen all summer), but have no fear ! dustin intercepts a russian code and makes everything even harder for everyone. what a sweet brother <3

episode two: the mall rats

dreams are weird, billy is a hitchhiker, and hopper flirts with joyce in front of you (youre not sure which is scarier), somehow robin knows russian and has genius ears, you get caught in an awkward breakup showdown, and you shamefully are shocked when you discover that hawkins is anything but normal. you would think youd be a pro at this already, but at least steve is hot and really good at sneaking through windows.

episode three: the case of the missing lifeguard

dustin blackmails you for $5 and then dubs steve as boyfriend material for you, robin cracks yet another russian code, you all almost waterboard yourselves after sneaking onto the mall's roof, you have a sexy nervous breakdown, and jonathan takes you for a drive in his sick car.

episode four: the sauna test

dustin has some brotherly concern for you (dont tell anyone though), steve is offended you dont think he can fight, nancy gets upset during therapy hour, robin encourages child endangerment, erica becomes your hero, and you lose your lunch on hawkins makeshift tower of terror (aka sketchy russian elevators).

episode five: the flayed

you have the worst birthday of your life, you almost strangle steve with your bare hands and then later get snot all over him, erica is your savior, dustin is doing his best, robin starts to suspect things, and the russians have opened a gate to the upside down. its all pretty miserable tbh. but hey ! at least steve won a fight !

episode six: e pluribus unum

things get hot and heavy in the face of death, mean russians kidnap your hot almost-boyfriend, you have a philosophical discussion about nerdiness with the kids, acid becomes your new favorite weapon, and steve and robin try drugs together. yippee !

episode seven: the bite

steve and robin are your nightmare blunt rotation, you manage to escape a russian lair: mario cart style, you learn that therapy sessions are fun in public bathrooms, steve places your brother on the russian fbi most wanted list, el probably just killed a bunch of people (deserved), and reunions with jonathan are always special when one of you is gravely injured.

episode eight: the battle of starcourt

jonathan becomes a certified surgeon, hopper returns and is oddly sentimental (wonder what that could mean !), you and dustin show off your musical theater talents, the mind flayer becomes a track star, fireworks become weapons, and really a lot just happens so suddenly it gives you whiplash. dont worry though, the rest of your summer involves painful goodbyes and the scary realization that youre growing up. absolutely disgusting. but at least steve gets to kiss you whenever now, so hooray for that ! side note: you keep making promises to people, surely there wont be narrative foreshadowing as a result !

SET BETWEEN SEASONS 3 AND 4

episode nine: the good

the party battles the horrors of high school and leave you stranded, tw: applying for college is harder than fighting literal demons (you would know, youve done it), jonathan joins your nightmare blunt rotation, max worries you, and steve solidifies his position of Best Boyfriend in the World as you slowly fall apart (though is anyone really surprised ??).

STATUS: complete

season three title based on this song x

blurbs set within the "come home" universe can be found here x

“COME HOME” SERIES MASTERLIST

this is a part of my stranger things rewrite, “come home”, and other seasons can be found linked above :)

[fandom-rants-here]

The fact of the matter is that we only see Jim Hopper and Karen Wheeler comfort Mike.

Karen has no idea the full extent of what's going on and the only time we see Mike cry in front of\with her is in season 1.

Hopper comforts him exactly one time in season 2 as Mike is screaming, punching, and crying. He is the only person to see Mike like this. Afterwards, this interaction dissolves into nothing and the potential ends.

Mike Wheeler saw his best friend's supposed body, jumped off a cliff watched his best friend get fucking possessed, saw the aftermath of a man's death, dealt with demodogs at the ripe age of 13, had his best friend of 9 years move thousands of miles away, felt that him dating Jane was the only way to save the world, will learn of everything that happened while he was gone, and still has yet to break down besides that one fucking time in season 2. Nobody has thought "Hmmm... Mike has been through and has seen a to. I think maybe somebody needs to talk to him."

Season 5 breakdown will be messy and sad. I am so fucking here for it.

[stonewall2023]

Will's Queerness is the Emotional Heart of Stranger Things

I heard a bunch of people claim that Will's character was only made gay because of public pressure or because Noah came out. What show are these people watching? Let's look at the themes of each season and Will's place in them.

In Season One, Joyce tells Hopper that Lonney used to call Will a queer and a fag. His bullies called him a fairy. He spends the season "hiding" in the "upside down" and is "pulled out" due to the love of his friends and family. The rest of his friends are also a bunch of misfits from different marginalized groups who get bullied. One of the show's main themes is clearly tolerance for difference and finding safe spaces (castle byers as a metaphor) where you can be yourself with the people you love. Will's queerness here is mainly subtext but that is going to gradually change over the course of the show.

In season two, Will gets "violated" and "penetrated" by an "other worldly creature" outside of his control. It happens near the anniversary of the trauma caused by the previous season. It causes him to become isolated and depressed to the point where it nearly takes him over. Metaphorically speaking, many gay kids go through trauma and develop depression as a result. To break him out of his trance, Will's mother tells him a story about how his drawing of a rainbow ship (not so subtle Duffers) makes her proud, and his best friend, who Will shares numerous intimate moments with throughout the season, tells Will that asking him to be his friend is the best thing he has ever done. This is what snaps him out of the trance. Clearly, this is a metaphor for how many queer individuals suffer from trauma due to their past history of being abused, and how, once again, through the love of family and friends, they can escape the throughs of depression....Also, Will hesitates at the end of the season when a girl asks him to dance, so if you are looking for something that isn't subtext, there you go.

In season three, the theme is the terror and shame experienced when going through puberty, and for Will, he experiences it as a gay kid in the closet. All his friends get a girlfriend, and he doesn't due to his sexuality, which is clearly making him depressed. His friends are spending more time on girls and less time with himself. He retreats into DnD in the desperate hopes of keeping his friend group intact. More specifically, he doesn't want to lose the person he loves: Mike. This leads to a confrontation with his best friend who tells him "it's not my fault you don't like girls", which sends Will into a nervous breakdown as he destroys Castle Byers, aka, his "safe space". Once him and his friends sense the danger of this oncoming monster though--the monster here also being a metaphor for puberty--and what it can do their friendship, they band together to destroy it. Will and Mike make up with each other at the end of the season as Will tells him it was never about the DnD but it was really about spending time with Mike. Mike smiles back. The theme: don't let puberty, societal expectations, and relationships destroy relationships with the people you love...And if we are looking for something that isn't subtext related, Will spends the entire season in the gayest pair of shorts known to mankind and is disgusted by the idea of getting a girlfriend, which he refers to as "gross".

In season four, Will's experience as a queer kid continues its journey out of subtext and moves more closely to text. Will does a project on Alan Turing, a gay computer scientist that was forcibly castrated and committed suicide. Will makes a painting for Mike, his best friend for who he loves, by drawing him as a hero with a heart on his shield. He becomes devastated when Mike doesn't hug him at the airport or pay attention to him, and they get into a fight over it. They then have several heart-to-heart talks where they make up. It is clear in these conversations that Will is head over heels in love with Mike Wheeler. Towards the end of the season, Will gives his painting to Mike in veiled love confession where he clearly uses El, Mike's girlfriend and his sister who are dating, as a cover for his own feelings. Will is clearly heart broken. His brother tells him later in the season, without directly saying it, that he knows he is gay and will always be loved. Will's depression stems from his inability to live as his true self. As Eddie said earlier in the season "Conformity is what is killing the kids". Since Season Four is really only half a season despite its extensive length, we will have to see how these themes play out in season five, but I have to imagine it is going to end up, at the very least, with Will coming out, his friends and family accepting him with love, and maybe even reciprocity from his love interest.

Sixth months after Season 4 came out, Noah Schnapp came out. Oddly enough, Noah Schnapp did so, in part, because it was Stranger Things that inspired him to do so. It was not the other way around. He was inspired by Will's story.

How people can miss these plot points or the major themes of Stranger Things blows my mind. This is queer story about love and acceptance masquerading as a horror and science fiction story.

[acowardinmordor]

You Left Me - You Miss Me - Six

Sup, I finally wrote the next part. Mostly because of someone trying to find it via the fic finder blog, which gave me a big ol spike in anxiety about the lack of update.

Part One .... Part Four - Part Five

---

“Rob, no.”

“Don’t you tell me ‘no,’ Steven Dingus Harrington!”

“You can’t drive to Hawkins and kill the guy.”

“Oh yes I can! I'll take your bat with me!”

“Babe, you still don’t know how to drive, and I have work in the morning so I can’t take you.” 

“I’ll figure it out on the way!”

She wouldn’t. She wasn't going to drive to Hawkins. She would definitely, absolutely, one hundred percent kill Munson if she had the chance and Steve didn’t talk her out of it, but Robin wasn’t going to leave him alone when he’d had a breakdown an hour earlier. She wouldn’t let him sleep alone for the next few days, and she would go to work with him in the morning, and she’d probably skip her Stats class so she could stick by him after work too. 

It took Robin about thirty seconds to realize something had happened. 

That was the gap between her opening the car door, and Steve speaking. All he said was “hey, Robs” and she cut off her ramble about chlorofluorocarbons. The same way he could tell by the sound of her stirring soup, or which color eye shadow she wore, she knew immediately something had happened. 

She touched his arm.

And he had a breakdown in the college parking lot. 

Steve updated the tag on the side of the box and put it back on the shelf. He was,technically, working. Robin was ranting and using a tie-dye shirt as a prop. 

“You don’t need to crash our car trying to go kill a guy I’m not even mad at.”

“Ugh,” she flapped the shirt at him and slouched against the edge of the shelving unit. “Why not? Why are you not mad at him? How? I’m mad at him! He took the kids away from you! They’re annoying little shitheads but you loved them and he jus---”

“Rob,” he interrupted softly. He couldn’t get into that side of it right now. 

“Sorry. Sorry. But you’re not this nice, Stevie. You’re wonderfully bitchy and petty and it’s one of my favorite things about you, and I don’t get this. He sucks! This was super shitty! Why aren’t you mad at him for being an asshole?”

“It’s not his fault.”

“He said it was his fault!”

Eddie blamed himself, and maybe it was his fault, but it didn’t matter. Not in comparison.

“Are you going to inventory anything tonight, or is this just going to be me?”

“No! And why are you working?”

Because if he stopped, if he let himself turn his full attention towards it, he was going to fall apart again, and stupid as it was, checking inventory used up just enough of his focus that he couldn’t drown. Steve flicked through the stack of size smalls, and wrote it down on the list. “Uh, because we’re at work?”

“We both work tomorrow tonight and there is no way that Mary or Nick have ever looked at the stock sheets in their life, they aren’t going to look tomorrow either. No one will know.”

“I’ll know.” He glanced up to make eye contact for a second, and she caved with a groan. 

“If you were anyone but my soulmate, buddy…” She folded the shirt terribly, shoved it into the gap between the cardboard and the other shirts, and finally closed the box. 

Letting the silence settle gave Steve a minute to breathe, and reset himself without the rising tension. She knew that, and waited until, unspoken, she knew he was ready to keep going. 

“Steve.”

“I am mad, Robs. I am. You know that it’s.. At the kids, and at Hopper, and at myself for agreeing to this stupid idea, but I’m not mad at him.” 

“Why does he get special treatment?”

Hearing how that sounded, he tried again, “No, uh. I’m mad at him, but, like, the same way you get mad when the grandma in the crosswalk is going really slow and then drops something and goes back, and you end up stuck waiting again even though you should have made it through the light before. Yeah, it sucks, but it’s not like grandma was doing it specifically to fuck with you. She’s just, you know, shopping or whatever. 

“It wasn’t like there was a friendship there that he betrayed. He did something for his own life and it was sorta sucky, and it sucks for me, but he feels really shitty about it, so I don’t think he meant for them to, you know, vanish.”

Robin thumbed down the stack of Levis, whispering the count as she went. Three more sizes got counted before she responded. 

“You carried him out of there. You saved his life.”

Steve hummed absently. “He wasn’t bleeding that bad. His trash lid kept most of them off. I panicked when I saw blood and picked him up.”

“And that doesn’t make you friends?”

“It’s not like I only saved him because it was him. Not like I stopped and thought about whether I should get the bleeding guy to the hospital. Lifeguard, remember?” 

The other half of the thought, he bit back. He’d had nightmares about Billy after Starcourt. Dreams where he could have saved him, and didn’t. Where he could have saved Max from having to see that, having to recover from that. He saw Eddie bleeding, he saw one of his kids screaming, and there wasn’t a thought in his head. Just the need not to let it happen again. Not again. Not Dustin too. 

He kept his eyes on the inventory form so she didn’t see that part. 

“Still think it should have mattered more. Life saving creates friendships.”

“He was unconscious. I know you don’t know much about how guys act with each other, but generally both dudes are awake when they become friends.”

She snorted at his weak joke, throwing her pencil at him. It wasn’t anywhere near her. 

“New record, champ,  that one wasn’t even close enough for me to pretend to dodge it.”

“Ugh, I hate you.”

“Love you too, Robs.”

He got through a full set of kids dress shirts in peace, counted and listed. Then he pulled down the crate of kid’s dresses, next on the list to check. 

The whole can of worms would tear open when, if, when Eddie showed up with something from the kids. There was no version of that day that wouldn’t end with him falling apart. If he skimmed them, if he burned them, if he read them, if he wrote back, if he refused to take them at all, it didn’t matter. He was going to fall to pieces. 

If they wrote and it was real, if it was petty, if it was anger, if it was grief, if it was gloating he was gone, if it was begging him to come back, if it was proof that it was always fake, always a temporary placeholder until they found someone they actually like. The imminent breakdown was going to be bad no matter what. 

Like those safety videos in school about seat belts. 

Like knowing the car crash was coming, knowing it couldn’t be stopped, and knowing that nothing he did was going to make it any easier to bear. Slow motion, watching a car come -- a beat up old van come towards him. No time to put on a seat belt, no way to brace for it, just accept that it was going to happen and hope you survived.  

Robin cleared her throat to get his attention, and Steve blinked back to himself. 

“Did, uh, did you say something?”

Robin watched him for a minute. He let her this time. It was easier to let her see what he was feeling than try to turn it into words, and he needed her to let it go for now.. 

“I’m going to skip my bio lecture on Friday afternoon.”

“Birdie, you don’t--” 

“You are going to call in sick at the skate rink. We are going to make snickerdoodles and brownies and the cracker bark thing, and order pizza, and we’re going to make ourselves sick eating too much, and we’re going to watch some random movie on mute and make up our own story and dialogue. Got it?”

“Got it,” he smiled.

And it wasn’t going to make it all better. Eating two pounds of butter in a day wasn’t going to make it easier when Eddie showed up, but it was like hitting pause on that video. Car crash was still coming, but he could look away for a while. 

***

Steve clung to the pass shelf from the kitchen as the expected car crash hit him on Monday. John, always eager for the chance to throw someone out of the diner, looked over Steve’s shoulder. It was a nice moment. A nice little thought before he had to face what he’d agreed to. If he asked, John would throw Eddie out. Literally. Nice image, but not the one he got to see.

Instead, he declined the offer, and grabbed the plates. 

“Gimme a minute,” he mumbled to Eddie, heading to the sweet elderly couple celebrating the birth of their second granddaughter with a leisurely breakfast. If he spent an extra minute talking to them, complimenting the polaroid of what seemed to be some kind of mashed potato swaddled in white and pink, it was to get a good tip, not because he was stalling. 

Eddie hadn’t moved when he got back. He was a step back from the counter, stiff, holding a paper grocery bag under one arm, eyes trained on the ugly teal of the stool’s seat.

“Well?” Steve asked bitchily, “Did you bring milk and eggs and bread, honey?”

He put it on the counter, clutching the folded top hard, like he was making sure it stayed shut. 

Like it was full of spiders or something. Mutual sentiment.

Steve grabbed it, tossing it onto the shelf where they kept personal belongings and the leftovers they’d called dibs on. He hadn’t expected Eddie Munson to be up to Franklin at eight am on a Monday. Eddie wasn’t a morning person. Steve thought he’d have a few more hours to brace. Now he had to deal with customers while that bag burned a hole in the back of his head. 

Luckily, Rebecca was serious when she said he could get mean with guests if he wanted to. Today wasn’t a want. It was going to be a necessity. 

Eddie was still standing there. 

“You can tell them I got it, or whatever,” he tried to dismiss him.

Something that looked like the tortured remains of a smile flickered on Eddie’s face. He gave up after a second and nodded too many times. “Thanks. Thank you. Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, right?”

It took a minute for Steve to catch up to the question. 

“I haven’t said I’m going to answer them. Or open them. Or keep them.”

Eddie was quiet for a minute, still not looking up, and Steve’s Travel-Size-Robin was vibrating with the need to make him so they could guess what the hell he was thinking. 

“Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday mornings?” he repeated. 

“Yeah. Sure, yeah,” Steve gave up. 

Eddie left, and Steve did the entire day’s front of house prep before Susan got in, trying to keep his head away from that damn bag. 

***

Steve didn’t open it. 

He fell asleep in Robin’s bed, grateful he didn’t have other work that evening, and doubly grateful when she made him eat some crackers and drink some water before they passed out for the night. 

If he was waiting for the impact the day before, seeing Eddie again the next day was so unexpected that the crash whooshed past him without an impact. He didn’t sit down, and he looked a little rough, probably from driving to Franklin in the early morning twice in two days. 

“Do you have…?”

“No? No,” Steve boggled at him, “How could I have anything for you to even -- No. Man, no.” 

Eddie nodded. 

Eddie left. 

***

Steve stared at the bag instead of taking a nap before their shift in the stockroom. Didn’t open it, that was way, way beyond him, but he did manage to look directly at it, and it was only a few saltines, but he did successfully eat. 

Robin, angel, light of his life, soulmate and perfect person got in the car after class, handed him a kinda gross protein bar that she stole from an athlete in her class who she didn’t like, and made him eat it. 

She didn’t make him talk about the bag shaped elephant in their apartment, and she spent the entire shift explaining the way Ann Carson’s translations of Greek plays had totally shifted how people read them, making them more accessible, and how the push to do the same with Shakespeare was incredible. 

When he went to crawl into his own bed that night, she grumbled, brought her favorite pillow, and climbed in after him. 

***

Eddie walked in at quarter to seven, right after three four tops seated.

“No.”

“Okay. Yeah.” Eddie looked small, probably because he was speaking at a normal volume, sounding like a normal human, which ran opposite to how Eddie was in Hawkins. He also looked like crap. 

“Why are you here, dude? You hate mornings. You don’t have to leave that early, I work until one.”

Eddie scrunched his face, but didn’t answer that. 

“No?” he asked instead.

Someone at table six shouted ‘waiter!’ 

“I’ll bring your coffee in a damn minute!” Steve yelled back, half turning with the carafe in his hand.

“Steve?”

“Look, I don’t have anything for you. Nothing. You don’t need to waste your time. I haven’t opened it.”

“There’s more than one -- oh,” Eddie scrubbed over his face. “Okay. Yeah. Okay. Do-- Are you going to? Open it.”

Thinking about opening it made him want to run away to Canada. 

Thinking about never knowing made him want to puke. 

Whatever weird face Steve made was something Eddie could translate. He only raised his head for a moment, just long enough to look. But then he covered his face with both hands, taking a deep breath that shuddered on the exhale. 

“See you Monday,” he said as a goodbye.

“Where’s my coffee?” the same guy yelled. Steve didn’t have the energy to deal with customers and whatever the fuck was going on with Eddie’s early morning emotional mess. 

“Wait a second,” he complained to both of them at once. Steve grabbed one of the big mugs, the ones they used for the expensive hot chocolate, filled it with coffee, and set the pour jar of sugar next to it. He looked from Eddie to the cup, pointedly. “Don’t crash. Bring the cup back with you.”

The asshole yelled for him again, and Steve turned on the terrifyingly polite smile that Robin had helped him hone. Then he deployed it on the asshole at table six. 

---------------

We are headed towards Steddie, on a path that will, hopefully, not feel like I brushed off all this to get there. However. Wow, they're hurting right now. You can't have Eddie's pov yet, it would spoil things, but. just. trust me. ow.

Still don't do tag lists. Once I know how many parts it'll be, this will go to Ao3, promise.

[lunabug2004]

I love s2 so much but I will always get a little upset at all the adults in the lab practically ignoring Mike the whole time. Like if they are freaked out and scared about the situation, imagine how the only other kid in the room feels?

I know that it could be possible that he received some comfort and we just didn't see it, especially because of the way Mike starts being hidden from us in season 2, but if that was the case I have a feeling his breakdown with Hopper wouldn't have been nearly as loaded as it was.

Maybe it's just the way I operate but if there are kids around me during a stressful situation (even when I was a kid myself), I always make sure they are as far away and as calm as possible. I make sure to explain to them in the best way I can what is going on so that they at least have an idea of how to handle their emotions.

I know Mike wasn't freaking out or anything, but of what we know about his character ("even Mike, who likes to act tough" - LOTL), he wouldn't say anything no matter what awful emotions he was feeling. But I don't care. The adults in the situation should know better.

He's literally watching his best friend be taken over by a monster (which he basically swore to protect him from), be tortured by scientists, and then be forced to kill people, which Mike also tries to stop because he catches onto the trap (just a bit too late). He then has to run through a lab of dead people while being chased by the monsters who killed said people until he gets trapped in a room with no way to help and just has to hope that they all get out alive, which they don't, he learns as he holds Will's limp body then has to comfort Joyce as he coerces her to keep going. Oh yeah, I didn't mention that he also had to convince the adults to put his best friend to sleep or else he could also kill them and has to listen to his screams as they put him under.

I will never stop believing that season 2 is absolutely devastating for Mike and that the trauma he gained from it is almost impossible to fathom.

Now, I'm not saying that he wouldn't have been traumatized if he received comfort, but I at least don't think it would be as bad as it is. I mentioned in a post before that he might've lost even more trust in the adults (I specifically named Hopper) around him because of this. We know he's had a problem with authority since the beginning, but it gets worse in season 3, and I think this might be part of the reason why.

Anyways, I'll stop rambling now. Season 2 is my favorite season, but man (I've said it a million times and I'll keep saying it) Mike in season 2 literally breaks my heart into a trillion pieces.

[lune-moon-nuit]

Hello! I apologize in advance if there are any mistakes, as English is my native language. I have seen many breakdowns and analyses of music, cinematography, and parallels supporting the Byler canon. However, I haven't come across much analysis of scene sequences. For example, I noticed that in episode 4x04, there’s a scene with Hopper and Enzo discussing Joyce. Hopper says Joyce isn’t his woman, and Enzo responds with something like, "Of course. She saved your life as a friend." Immediately after this scene, there's a conversation between Mike and Will. They first talk about Eleven and their last fight, then Will recalls being saved from the MindFlayer. He says the line: "It's you're saved me, guys. It was YOU." And he looks at Mike. This scene is quite ambiguous if we remember the earlier one about "the woman who saved Hopper as a friend," transitioning into a scene where Will talks to his "friend" Mike and recalls being saved at the end of season 2.Additionally, I remembered that in episode 4x02, right after the awkward hug between Mike and Will at the airport and Mike's strange behavior, there’s a scene where Robin tells Steve how she can't bring herself to talk to Vickie because she starts babbling nonsense in her presence—words flying out faster than she can process them. This sequence might also be important; it connects these scenes because the creators want the audience to draw parallels between Mike and Robin, who act awkwardly around the person they’re in love with

I had never realized the order of the scenes with key lines that highlight the characters, but you do make a point — it’s too many signs for it to be a coincidence !

[eternal-sunflowers]

Too Muchson

now on ao3 :) wc: 12.8k relationships/characters: established steve harrington/eddie munson, mentions of the whole party (that includes argyle), wayne munson, jim hopper, joyce byers, benny cw: health/medical talk, mentions of POTS and fibromyalgia and related symptoms, breakdowns, brief mentions/allusions to child abuse, self-hatred on eddie's part, victim blaming (eddie to himself), panic attack, self-deprecation (again, eddie)

summary: three years after the events of the battles with vecna, eddie faces a multitude of growing health issues, namely (currently) POTS and fibromyalgia. the government offers free medical care at the trade off of being able to test treatments on eddie (this is alluded to but not fully discussed). eddie struggles with his health issues, feeling helpess in his own body, which brings up the trauma of growing up as al munson's kid. steve is the best boyfriend and is there to work eddie through his multiple breakdowns after a short grocery shopping trip.

there is lots of angst, but also much comfort. happy endings only in this household. <3 see the end for more notes. enjoy! this is my first fic, pls be nice :)

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Eddie feels so much guilt. So much guilt constantly. Over how Steve cares for him, without fail, every second of every day. Steve never complains. Never bats an eye. Never shows any frustration. Any sort of anger towards Eddie. Partly, it drives Eddie insane.

Mostly, it makes Eddie fall more horrendously in love with him.

Eddie’s feeling that guilt today as he slumps into the passenger seat of their car, tossing his head back with a small groan, waiting for Steve to finish returning their cart. His heart pounds against his tightening chest, sending his breathing ragged. He rubs his hands down his face, scrubbing at his bangs stuck with sweat to his forehead, letting out a frustrated growl, before he slowly breathes, in 2 3 4 5, hold, out 2 3 4 5, like his doctors never failed to fucking remind him. One of these days, they'll be able to go to the grocery store without it making Eddie feel like he was going to have a fucking heart attack. Somehow pushing a cart through Melvald’s or Walmart was the most strenuous activity his body could imagine, which is funny considering how he spent most of ‘86. 

He's grumbling to himself about ‘weak’ and ‘can’t even push a cart’ and ‘should’ve left me’ when Steve slides into the driver's seat, his warm hand reaching over to one of Eddie's own, pulling it gently away from his face, rubbing smooth circles against the top of his palm. Eddie merely grunts in response, vaguely registering the sound of the engine turning over, of the AC kicking on and the vents being clicked toward him, of their car slowly reversing before he peeks out from the hand still resting across his eyes to wearily gauge Steve's face. 

Eddie was always scared that he'd open his eyes to find Steve's face finally giving up on him.

To see exhaustion prickling Steve’s eyes and his easy smile contorted awkwardly and angrily in a way Eddie'd only seen it in alternate dimensions or when Steve had a particularly bad migraine. At the very least, Eddie expected the annoyed scrunch of brows and slight frown that was reserved for Dustin when the kid wouldn't shut the hell up. But none of those faces were ever directed at Eddie. Not even when they had their minor arguments. The most Steve's face ever cracked to give him was an eye roll and a disapproving glare when Eddie's hand was elbow deep in a bag of chips while Steve was cooking them dinner. 

Still, Eddie always braced for it. He was used to seeing the faces of those he loved or who were meant to love him just giving up. Downturned lips and squinted eyes and tight jaws and everything but the easy joy with which Steve always looked at him. 

Really, he just expected Steve to give up on him any day now. Everyone else in his life had, save for Wayne, but the old man really didn’t count in that regard. Wayne was somethin’ else. Obligated to love him, sure, but determined as hell to make up for the shitstorm Al had left behind. As a kid, Eddie was convinced Wayne was some kind of superhero, something that still hadn’t lost its luster, even after meeting El. Some things, only his Wayne could do, after all.

Well. And now Steve, too, since Wayne apparently started giving him lessons in how to care for Eddie’s miserable ass. God, what did he do to deserve these fucking angels in his life? Eddie couldn’t even go to the goddamn grocery store without his body replaying its best rendition of a few miles around the Hawkins High track, let alone offer Wayne and Steve anything good in return for the many ways they continued to save his fucking life. 

In the midst of his internal storm, Steve's hand slides down to turn Eddie's wrist up, two fingers pressed to his pulse – a position Steve had taken easily to over the last couple of years. He faintly hears Steve counting out beats under his breath, his other hand tapping on the wheel, eyes scanning the lot as he works toward the exit. After a few seconds, Steve's easy smile droops slightly, a tick down at the corners, his hand slipping down the wheel to hit his turning signal. Eddie's stomach lurches at the change in Steve's expression. 

Here it comes.

Steve is finally giving up on him. 

Just a few more notches downward to the expression Eddie had braced for from everyone since he was 5 years old.

Just a few more ticks of his expression to reflect Eddie's biggest fear. 

His biggest fear used to be dying in this small ass town with nothing to show for it, but after facing the end of the world multiple times, his fears of his own mortality seemed to not be as important as his fears of losing the people he loved -- more specifically, now, losing Steve. He bites his lip, too scared to break the silence, and too weak to fight. 

"I can practically hear you catastrophizing over there, babe. I promise we're fine." Steve soothes, keeping his fingers on Eddie's pulse, gently squeezing and throwing a sidelong smile as he turns out on the road....in the opposite direction of their apartment. 

Yeah.

Fine.

Eddie coughs, leaning against the window, smushing the side of his face into the palm Steve wasn’t branded to to keep his face half-hidden. "We uh....why aren't we....um…” Another cough. “Why are we, um, we…” A sharp intake of breath.

Followed by another, and another, as Eddie’s mind reels.

As he starts replaying the grocery trip to pinpoint every misstep and everything he fucked up.

As he thinks about every joke he made and every look Steve gave him in the store, twisting them to show disgust rather than love.

As he starts thinking of all the ways that Steve is surely, finally, about to break up with him. 

Because surely that’s what’s happening. What other reason would Steve have to not be heading back to their apartment right after getting groceries? The only thing of any import this way is Wayne’s, and Eddie knows what that means.

Eddie knows that means his ass is hitting the dirt walkway up to Wayne’s door while Steve drives out of his life forever.

Eddie spirals, thinking of all the ways that he was finally too much for perfect Steve Harrington. Of how Steve is going to kick his ass out in Wayne’s yard with so little as a “good riddance” because Eddie couldn’t be assed to get his fucking health in order for a 20 minute grocery trip that he swore to Steve he felt okay enough to go on. 

And really, he did. He felt great before they left – well, as great as he could feel now. But still, he promised. He swore he was fine because he was. And then, a half hour later, he’s practically passed out in the passenger seat, trying to will his heart to chill the fuck out and stop being such a dramatic bitch. To tell the rest of his nervous system that they’re fine, that they just went to buy some goddamn eggs and milk, not off to fight Vecna 3.0, so could you please chill the fuck out and drop back to a respectable heart rate and nervous system response?

If he couldn’t be expected to say he was fine and then stay fine, how could Steve expect him to ever be reliable? 

How could Steve expect him to keep any promise ever?

How could Steve expect Eddie to mean it when he says he’ll love him for the rest of their cursed lives?

He knows he’s working himself up. He gets that, logically. But brains are nothing if not illogical, especially when all his blood is decidedly fucked off elsewhere in his body, seemingly leaving his brain to fend for itself with nothing but toppled milk crates and spilled papers and a dozen different Eddie’s in various states of disarray to take the reins. 

“Eddie? What’s wrong, babe?” Steve shoots a concerned look over, his fingers soothing over Eddie’s pulse. “Hurtin’?”

Eddie nods jerkily in response, his chest still heaving with fear, but Steve doesn’t have to know that.

“C’mon, baby, breathe for me, okay? Your breathing exercises. It’ll help.”

Eddie shakes his head. “‘S too hard.” He squeaks out between shaking breaths. “Too…too many steps.”

Steve hits his blinker and pulls over onto the shoulder of the road. He shifts the car into park, leaving his lights flashing, before turning toward Eddie. “Lemme work you through it, sweetheart. I can count ‘em out for you.”

Eddie vigorously shakes his head, quickly shooting out his free hand to grip the door handle, squinting his eyes shut, cursing under his breath as his head starts spinning. 

“Hey hey hey, take it easy, baby. Pull your legs up under you and keep your head still. Movin’ ‘ll only make the spinning worse.” Steve soothes, reaching his hand not wrapped around Eddie’s wrist to rest at the nape of Eddie’s neck, gripping firmly, pressing his thumb and forefinger into the skin there to help ground Eddie’s swimming head. 

“‘M sorry.” Eddie whines, feeling more like the failure he knows he is as he pulls his legs up into his seat, leaning his forehead against his knees, wrapping his free arm tightly around them.

Steve’s brows furrow slightly. “Shh, no sorries needed, but you gotta breathe for me.”

Eddie tenses under Steve’s hand, barely restraining from shaking his head again. He grits his teeth instead, the shaky breaths continuing to rasp too quickly through his lungs. “No – no counts.” He swallows thickly. “‘S too much. Please.”

“Okay, baby.” Steve adjusts with insurmountable ease, a well-decorated soldier in the war on Eddie’s body against itself. “Just follow the taps of my fingers if my voice is too hard to follow. We don’t gotta talk while we do it, just please, lemme count your breaths for you, yeah?” Steve doesn’t wait for a response – just starts tapping and pressing out the counts into Eddie’s wrist, in 2 3 4 5, a long press to hold, then out 2 3 4 5, hold. 

After a few moments, Eddie begrudgingly follows Steve’s count, working to slow his staccato breaths to match the metered pace Steve sets. A few minutes tick by. He turns, watches Steve’s lips silently count out the breaths for him, watches how easily Steve just takes control to let Eddie relinquish the stress of figuring out what to do. He lets himself be grateful for it here in this moment – a rare bout of indulgence. 

Eddie thinks of all the times Steve’s been in a similar position, helping keep Eddie’s head screwed on and his body taped together with an ease that was honestly a bit frightening. It was like Steve was crafted perfectly to cater to every single need and issue and want that Eddie had, and Eddie doesn’t feel like he’s gotten any better at hiding his awe at that, or at even really accepting that, over the last few years. 

Eddie is nothing if not stubborn, after all. 

“There you go, sweetheart. Doing so good.” Steve croons, locks his concerned, but loving eyes with Eddie’s tired, panicked ones. His thumb soothes against Eddie’s neck. He smiles sweetly, bringing Eddie’s wrist to his lips for a gentle kiss to his pulse point. “Feelin’ any better?”

Eddie hums, blinks a few times. Steve stares expectantly, his eyebrows raising slightly. Eddie rolls his eyes, knows Steve’s obsession with vocal confirmations – and understands it, really, after all the shit they’d endured, because Eddie was just as insistent on them when the roles were reversed. He goes to speak, his voice cracking hoarsely in his suddenly too-dry throat, leading him to a few sputtering coughs. He feels the warm pressure on his neck release at that, an action that causes him to lean back toward where it retreated, to whine before he can bite his lips to stop it. Steve chuckles softly, squeezes his wrist, and murmurs a quiet “‘M still here, baby” to soothe him while he leans into the backseat, rustling around in the bags there.

A moment later, a cool bottle is being pressed gently against his knees, an expectant look on Steve’s face when Eddie doesn’t grab it immediately. “Drink up.”

Eddie groans, squeezing his eyes shut, tossing his head back dramatically, the sound of his voice crackling slightly at the dryness of his throat. “Don’wannaaaa.” He manages to croak out in what sounds like nothing more than a blob of unrecognizable noises, but Steve is well-versed in Eddie at this point. 

“I know, but it’ll help.” Steve presses it more firmly into Eddie’s knees.

Eddie keeps his head back, leaning his body back against the seat. “Noooo.” 

Steve scoffs. “Whiny little bastard.” 

Eddie smirks at that, revelling in the easy banter, in the mirth in Steve’s voice. He glances over to find Steve’s eyebrows canted up behind his bangs, a slight smirk to his lips, a little more life and joy to his eyes to replace the concern from before. Eddie feels the edges of a soft smile pull at his lips in response. He’d do anything to keep Steve happy, to keep him from being concerned about anything ever.

“Fine then.” Steve drops Eddie’s wrist to the seat gently, but not before placing a gentle kiss to his pulse point once more, much to Eddie’s delight. Then, Steve brings his hands together to crack open the Lemon Lime Gatorade slowly beading condensation. He brings it up to Eddie's lips, locks their eyes again, his smirk deepening as he lets a deep, commanding “Drink.” slip into the air between them. 

Eddie feels something tight within him relax. He lets his lips fall open, nodding slightly for Steve to slowly tip the drink into his mouth. The cool liquid rushes in, coating his dry throat as he swallows a few tiny gulps. He closes his eyes, a tiny moan escaping his lips from the pure relief the drink gives him – one he wasn’t even aware he needed. 

“That’s my good boy.” Steve praises, just as commanding as before. 

Eddie shivers in response, tilting his chin against the bottle to signal Steve to take it away, which he does immediately, capping the bottle and setting it in the cup holder with a soft thunk. 

The two had developed such an easy, unspoken language between them that might honestly be rivaling the one Steve shared with Robin – much to Robin’s (mostly) fake chagrin. She lamented endlessly that it wasn’t fair, that only she got to share that connection with Steve, always tracing it back to the summer of Scoops and Russian torture. “I’m just saying, we really broke some boundaries there bleeding out together in the bunker.” 

Steve always replying, “Oh my god, Robin, you were never bleeding out, stop lying to Eddie to make him feel bad!” before smacking her with a pillow. 

Eddie laughing, “Yeah, Buckley, if anything that means that I have a stronger claim to the mind meld than you do, lest we forget my stint in the ol’ Upside Down as a bit of roadkill.”

“Oh, don’t you start!” Steve yelling in response before launching a pillow at Eddie’s face. “Can’t you two just agree to share me equally so we don’t have to keep reliving the trauma of our pasts every time one of you gets slightly jealous of the other.”

“Long as I get the dick part of you, sweetheart.” Eddie would grin, eliciting several “ew, ew, ew, ew, ew”s from Robin, before they all dissolved into a pile of laughing, clingy limbs, the hauntings of their pasts forever melting them together as one.

Steve’s hand reaches up and rests against Eddie’s cheek. “Better?” 

“Yeah, much.” Eddie lolls his head to the side, opening his eyes to gaze softly at his boyfriend. “Thanks, Stevie.”

“Anytime, sweetheart.” Steve’s eyes soften as leans forward to press a feather-light kiss to Eddie’s lips. Eddie hums eagerly beneath him, chasing Steve’s lips as he pulls away, eliciting a small chuckle from Steve. “More time for that when you’re not feelin’ like shit. You wanna tell me what’s wrong, now?”

Eddie feels a handful of answers boil up his throat, most of them too honest, so he swallows them down, lands on a, “Jus’ a flare, I think.”

Steve furrows his brows. “A flare…”

“Yeah, jus’, the heat and all got to me I think, but I’m okay.”

Steve chews his lip, brows still furrowed as he takes in Eddie’s words. Eddie holds his breath, tells his brain to chill the fuck out so he doesn’t break down over the same fucking bullshit again, leaving Steve to pick up the pieces. Again.

Steve lets out a soft sigh, his face going lax, all the furrows gone without a trace. “Sweetheart, are you sure?” Steve leans forward, cards his free hand through Eddie’s hair, tangling in the curls. “You know you can talk to me about anything.”

“I know, Stevie. I’m okay. Jus’ wanna get home and spend the night with you and Robin.” Eddie smiles, presses his tongue to the roof of his mouth to try to stop the sob from jumping out of his throat into the space between them.

“God, I bet she picked out another horrendous film one of her campus buddies made, didn’t she?” Steve crinkles his nose at that, his mouth pressed in a thin line.

Eddie chuckles, the sob slipping back down into the cavern in his chest. He slips his tongue out, wets his lips. “Yeah, I’m honestly a bit stoked to figure out why she picked it. I could use a winning week.”

Steve leans back, surreptitiously slipping the half-drunk Gatorade into Eddie’s hands. “Finish this for me.”

Eddie looks down, momentarily perplexed at the shift, before throwing his head back with a groan. “Ugh, do I have to?” He slips his legs back into the footwell, uncapping the drink and holding it against his cheek, the condensation cool against his heated skin.

Steve turns forward in his seat again, shifting the car into drive and adjusting their lights back to normal before merging back onto the road. He reaches over to grasp Eddie’s free hand loosely. “It’ll help. And, we’re almost there, too, so you’ll be feelin’ even better in no time.”

Right. Eddie shoots back into his body, Gatorade half-raised to his still-parched lips, aware again of how they’re not going in the direction of their apartment – how they’re not heading toward the place they call home where Robin is waiting with another trashy film for their regular routine movie night. 

No, they’re driving away from it. 

So, logically, the only other place they could be “almost there” to is Wayne’s. But, they didn’t have any plans, and they have groceries in the back, so, again, logically, the only thing this means is Steve’s hit his limit and Eddie is being kicked into Wayne’s yard. 

Again.

Eddie cringes as the thought hits him full force again, wants to jerk his hand free of Steve's calming grasp, his lungs tightening in response. He pulls the Gatorade away from his lips, grip tight on the bottle as he plunks it in the cup holder, yellow liquid sloshing up the sides vigorously. His stomach sours, replaying the last 10 minutes where Steve doted over him, nothing but love in his eyes, but now he was carting Eddie away just as easily as everyone else ever had. 

If this is it, if this is the end, Eddie doesn't think he could bear any final touches that masqueraded as care. It makes it that much harder when the person pretends to care as they throw Eddie into Wayne's yard with disgust. That had already happened one too many times for Eddie's liking, so he just stopped letting people get close. Much easier that way.  

That was, until spring break of ‘86. Kind of hard to shut everyone out who’s trying to show they care when the whole rest of the town is hunting him with literal pitchforks and torches like they were in some off-brand horror film. 

Though, with the alternate dimension spewing out flesh monsters and viscera, he supposes it was technically a higher budget horror film, the kind that went for the practical effects, but whatever. 

He couldn't really keep everyone out when a gaggle of freshmen showed up to save his ass with Buckley and Harrington and Wheeler in their posse. Buckley, sure, he guesses he could see her helping – nerds and geeks stick together. Wheeler? Maybe, on a good day, but only because Mike was one of his new freshmen sheepies, so he supposes he was in Nancy’s good graces for saving her brother from the hell of high school social networking. But, Harrington? The King himself? Yeah, right. That one he couldn’t rationalize, which is why The King ended up pressed against a wall with a bottle against his throat, blood thrumming in Eddie’s ears, pure panic and hatred and fear plastered on his face, before Dustin of all people talked him down, swearing Steve was here to help, that he was a good guy. Eddie only let him go after meeting Dustin’s eyes, after seeing the pure honesty on the kid’s face, throwing him back to every interaction over the last, like, 7 months with the kid talking his ear off about how “cool” and “great” and “badass” Steve Harrington was now.

None of the group crowding the boathouse made any sense together, none of the whole situation made any fucking sense, but nothing had made sense since that first morning before he left for school, before Chrissy fucking Cunningham seeking him out for help of all people, before his trailer became a certified crime scene. In that moment there later on in Rick’s boathouse, Harrington and his gaggle of misfits coming to his aid was only the second most unbelievable thing he’d experienced in Hawkins, the first only happening some hours prior, so he had supposed he wasn't exactly in a position to choose his saviors at that moment. 

3 years later, and that same gaggle of misfits had fully absorbed him, barreling through his walls and holding him up and fighting for him to be a free man. 

3 years later, and Steve Harrington himself had persistently chiseled even deeper through his defenses, pouring his molten honey love in to fill in the cracks of Eddie’s soul, some of the cracks much much older and deeper than what the Upside Down had left on him.

Some of them still gaping in his chest, prickling his insides like nettle, telling him that Steve Harrington would always be too good for him. 

That Eddie would always be Too Much. 

And that thought finally sends him over the edge, because it always boils back down to here, doesn’t it?

“AreyoudumpingmeoffatWayne’s?” Eddie finally gets out in one big breath. He heaves with it, the feel of it dragging sharply against his vocal chords. His throat feels like it’s on fire, his body aching all over from effort. The panicked breaths start to scratch their way up again, tearing at the calmness Steve had instilled in him only some short minutes prior.

"What?" Steve whips his head round, eyes wide in confusion. "Why would I--?"  Steve’s eyes linger on the crease in Eddie's brow, the shiftiness of his eyes, the way his teeth worry against his perpetually chapped lips. Steve sighs, gripping Eddie's hand tighter, ping ponging his gaze from the road to his sulking boyfriend. His voice slips, a touch of shock and sadness? "I'm never going to just drop you off at Wayne's like that, babe.” He clears his throat, lowers his voice, still strong and sure, but softer, less pitched and full of determination and love. “Not unless you want to, and even then, my ass would be sitting there, talking to Wayne to find a way to help. I’d stay my ass on his porch all day and night trying to help. He wouldn’t be able to get rid of me.” Steve squeezes Eddie’s hand. “But otherwise, you're always coming back home. To our home. With me." He looks over, softness taking his features. “I’m not giving up on you, Eds.”

A few silent beats pass, the only noise the hum of the AC, of the tires on the asphalt, carrying them further and further away from their apartment, from their home. Eddie's knee vibrates with every passing second, his foot kicking at the dust in the footwell, his gaze stoically locked out the window, his thumbnail shredding between his teeth, the memories of every time his ass hit the ground leading up to Wayne’s trailer clouding his brain, flimsily shielding him from Steve’s promises.

"You know that, right, babe? You know I’d never leave you, right?" Steve whispers. “That you’ll always be coming home with me?” He squeezes Eddie's hand softly, rubbing his thumb in slow circles. Eddie's hand twitches in response, betraying his own anxieties, aching to curl tighter around Steve’s. Aching to feel the warmth seep deep into his bones and blanket the fire burning beneath his skin. “Talk to me?”

The tightness in Eddie’s shoulders drops slightly, a slight breath falling from his lips, the shield fracturing. “I’d hardly call our 2nd floor walkup a home, Stevie.” Eddie chuckles mirthlessly. “You kind of have to have the whole picket fence, driveway, multiple bedrooms and bath–”

“Eddie.” 

“--rooms, a yard to corral the inevitable horde of pets, a grill set out to be Mr. All-American every weekend with the kids, perfectly manic–”

“Eddie.”

“--ured lawn, obviously, because god forbid you let the Wheeler’s outperform you in the realm of lawncare. I don’t think Mike’d ever let ya live that one down. Then again, he might not care as much–”

“Eddie.” Firmer this time, with a squeeze of the hand to match, as much of a pointed look as Steve could muster while still driving.

A beat passes, then another, before Eddie sighs, the shield crumbling away, letting Steve’s words crawl into the cavern in his chest, radiating warmth in the void. He quietly breathes out, "Yeah.....yeah, I know." His hand not tangled in the strong, warm fingers of his boyfriend finally drags down his face to settle across his lap. “I know.”

"I promise, sweetheart. You're not getting rid of me." Steve pulls their hands up to his mouth and brushes his lips delicately over the taut skin of Eddie’s knuckles. "Gonna take care of you forever."

Eddie scoffs. “Forever, huh? You sure ‘bout that, Harrington?”

“Most sure I’ve been about anything in my life.” Steve responds immediately, his voice holding that strong, steady baritone Eddie’d come to love.

“Damn, quick to draw there. Don’t be making promises you can’t keep.”

“You know I don’t.”

Silence takes the car after that. Eddie festers in it, keeps his gaze down, his free hand fiddling with the loose threads at the hem of his shirt, his other staunchly locked in Steve’s, sending red hot shockwaves through his body. They’d had this conversation, or some variation of it, countless times. Eddie knows Steve means it. He knows Steve holds to his word. 

He knows Steve loves him. 

Yet still, Eddie continues to retreat to this any time he feels frustrated or defenseless in his own body – the way his health issues and trauma make him feel constantly. Though, he knows that with Steve, he couldn’t ever push it as far as the gaping holes in his chest screamed for. He couldn’t bear to hurt Steve intentionally. He’d rather die.

He’d always found it easier, even before all the Upside Down shit happened, to push against the barriers of his relationships to see where he could form cracks. Everyone always had a weak point that he could leverage, that he could stick a chisel into and start hammering. A way he could build an escape route. 

If Al taught him anything, it was to always go into a place knowing where the exits were, and to never let yourself be somewhere that didn’t have at least two ways out of it. 

That was one of the things that scared him most about loving Steve Harrington. There was only one way out of it – a way that Eddie couldn’t bring himself to fully commit to anymore, a devastating way he hadn’t ever really entertained past the first few weeks of disbelief that this relationship wasn’t some cruel prank. A way he honestly couldn’t even see at this point, so far out of the realm of possibility that it didn’t even ping on his radar. 

But always a way he expected Steve to take against him someday – though Eddie’d never hold it against him – because loving Eddie was harder than fighting all the extra-dimensional terrors they’d faced together, so he always made sure there were plenty of exits for Steve to leave him.

It was easier to try at the start, to try to push Steve away, to show him all the ugly parts of himself. There was plenty in his past to make anyone take one look and deem him Way Too Much to handle – a fact that had gotten him called “Too Muchson” or some variation of it on so many occasions growing up that Eddie damn near forgot it wasn’t his actual name. 

Then, with ‘86 came even more shit to pile on his already “Too Muchson” pile, so he thought it’d be easy enough to scare Steve off. Easy to scare Steve off with all his injuries laying him out for months in bed. With all the doctor’s visits and diagnoses being thrown his way as ‘86 wrapped. Easy to prove to Steve that even a friendship with Eddie wasn’t worth the cost, so why even bother with anything more? 

Steve never bought it for a second – instead, he started driving Eddie to his appointments, no matter how far away they were (and god knows the government made him fucking drive for them, the bastards). 

Started holding his hand on the drives and filling the car with easy conversation and updates about the kids when Eddie was too anxious to talk. 

Started popping by Wayne’s more to help around the house, surprising Eddie when Wayne didn’t grumble about it, but rather handed Steve a key over breakfast one morning after the 5th or 8th visit and told him to come on in whenever, as long as he planned to stay, which Steve promised to do. 

Started bringing Robin over every weekend to have movie night since he knew Eddie struggled leaving the house at that time, enlisting her to start a trend of chaotic movie choices, forcing the boys to guess the reason she picked the movies, with whoever chose correctly by the end of the night winning music and lunch choices for the next week. 

Started pouring every ounce of his love and kindness into Eddie with no expectation of anything in return, apart from Eddie continuing to get up and keep trying day after day, to not give up. 

If Eddie’s being honest, he has no clue where or when or why Steve decided he was worth loving in any capacity. He knows that he was a fucking mess, especially at the beginning, what with all the doctor’s visits, and the way he could barely leave bed for close to a year due to the pain. Still, Steve never made him feel worse for it, never made him feel like a freak for the things wrong with him that he didn’t yet have the diagnoses and definitions for. 

No, Steve showed up during those moments and cared for him so easily that Eddie couldn’t help but fall in love with him. 

Eddie comes back to the present with Steve’s thumb clumsily wiping at Eddie’s cheek through the tangle of their fingers, smearing damp across it. Eddie jumps, letting out a quiet yelp, pawing at his cheeks to find tears streaming down them. "Shit, sorry, I’m fine, I just--"

"Shhh, don't apologize.” Steve grips his hand tighter, shooting a tiny glare out the corner of his eye, pointedly raising their hands higher, flicking his pointer finger out to press against Eddie’s lips when Eddie goes to open his mouth again.

“But–”

 “Stop it. Right now.”

“But Ste–” 

“Nope.”

“Steve, I’m so–” 

“Zip it. No apologies. None. You did nothing wrong." 

Steve pulls into Benny's, swinging into a parking spot right in front of the door, pointedly using his hand not pressed against Eddie’s mouth to awkwardly shift the car into park and unbuckle his own seatbelt before turning in his seat to face Eddie, eyebrows raised expectantly. 

“Can I talk now?” Eddie grumbles out against the pad of Steve’s finger.

Steve cocks his head to the side. “That depends, are you going to try to apologize to me again?”

Eddie shifts his eyes. “...maybe.”

“Then no.” 

Eddie huffs. He’s very aware that he could just…pull their hands away from his mouth himself, but he doesn’t. He knows the point Steve is trying to make, and Steve knows he knows, the annoying little shit. No apologies allowed for feeling your emotions, idiot.

“You just gonna hold my mouth hostage all afternoon in front of Benny?” Eddie nods his head in the direction of the door, though his eyes never leave Steve’s.

“I’m gonna keep my hand right where it is if you intend to keep apologizing to me when you’ve quite literally done nothing wrong – not today, or yesterday, or honestly ever, so.”

Eddie laughs, his lips sliding against Steve’s finger, his tongue aching to slip out and lick, but refraining. “Ever?”

Steve smiles, all lips stretching across his tanned cheeks, little bits of teeth poking out. “Yeah, ever. You’ve not done a single thing wrong in your life, Eddie, ‘s far as I’m concerned.”

“Not even the drug dealing?”

“Nope. Call that,” Steve waves his other hand through the air aimlessly. “Entrepreneurship?” 

“Bah, sure. Hopper’d beg to differ.” Eddie knows that isn’t true, though. Knows Steve knows it isn’t true, too. Thinks of how many times Hopper hauled his ass out of the woods and told him to “go home, Munson. Wayne’ll be worried.” before sending him off with a stern glare. Thinks about how Hopper could’ve easily locked him up for a night any of those times, but how he kept letting Eddie off the hook because he was buds with Wayne, the two of them going fishing and hunting and whatever else old guys hardened by the war do in their pastimes together. 

“I’ll move if you tell me what’s really bothering you.” Steve whispers out, his finger gently brushing against Eddie’s lips. “I know it’s not just a flare.”  

Eddie looks over to find the beautiful smile that was on Steve’s face moments ago replaced by a tenseness, his eyes crinkled at the edges, his lips slightly chapped with worry, stuck tightly together. He swallows down the warring in his chest, swallows down the parts of him aching for Steve – aching for Steve to patch him up and fix all the leaks in his armor like he always does. Squishes down all the fear and anxiety and sadness boiling inside of him. Instead, hums against Steve’s fingers, quirks his lips in his best imitation of a smile, “‘M fine.”

Steve raises his eyebrows slightly. “Crying in the car and thinking I’m going to kick you into Wayne’s yard without so much as a glance back doesn’t exactly scream fine, babe.”

Eddie doesn’t say anything, just tilts his head toward his lap, away from Steve’s prying gaze. He knows it’s a losing battle – that Steve will whittle it out of him eventually, probably sooner than he wants. But, fuck, Eddie is so tired of making all of his problems Steve’s problems. He’s tired of not being able to handle his own damn shit. He survived an evil wizard and a town full of angry homophobic jocks hunting him down, so why can’t he just fucking get a handle on the mundane shit like his health and his anxiety and everything else in his fucking brain, spilling out of the milk crates? It really isn’t that hard. Eddie just is too weak or broken, he guesses. But, that isn’t Steve’s problem, so he keeps his lips clamped shut, willing whatever supernatural shit still waving through the universe to just let Steve drop it and let Eddie learn how to bottle it all up better so he doesn’t burden anyone anymore.

They just sit there like that for a couple of minutes, the car idling, silence festering, the AC blasting full force at Eddie finally enough to make him shiver slightly. That’s all it takes for Steve to relent with a sigh, pulling his hand away to lower the AC to a much more manageable level. Eddie licks his lips, the taste of Steve faintly there, feels the loss of Steve’s warmth deep in his bones. 

Steve pulls his hands together, takes in a deep breath, breathes it out slowly, flexes his fingers, fidgets with his nail beds in a way that makes Eddie’s heart ache since he knows it’s a shitty habit that Steve picked up from him. Steve turns his eyes up, locking onto Eddie’s with determination. “Are you okay, Eddie?”

Well, fuck you too, supernatural energy of the universe. Can’t ever cut a guy some slack, can you?

“Why are we at Benny’s?” Eddie turns, looks out the window through the glass of the front doors, making eye contact with Benny behind the counter, the man smiling and waving at him. Eddie manages a small smile and head nod in response.

“You’re deflecting.”

“Benny’s waving at us pretty intensely. Kind of looks like a doofus, honestly.” 

“Eddie.”

Eddie grits his teeth, feels those late nights with Al creeping into his subconscious, the well-practiced venom slipping sharp around his tongue before he can stop it. “I’m fine, okay. Just fucking drop it, will ya? Geez.” 

Steve sighs. Eddie turns at the noise, his face falling as he catches the sadness in his partner’s eyes, feels a pang in his heart knowing he’s the cause of it. He stammers, trying to find a way to fix it, broken “I’m sorry”s falling from his lips. A slight grumble falls out of Steve’s lips as his hand falls to the door handle. “‘S fine. I’m picking us up some dinner.”  

Eddie scrunches his eyes, confusion taking his face as Steve turns, opening his door, stepping out of the car. "Dinner? But we just went shopping! We didn’t buy all those groceries just to waste ‘em." 

Steve huffs, turning around as he stands out the driver’s side. "And you need salt and carbs right now." He leans down, arms on the top of the car, letting his torso and neck stretch as he kicks his foot out behind him, the sadness in his eyes spreading to his smile. "I'm not gonna let you suffer in silence like you're so prone to do. I know you’re hurting. More than just the physical pain from shopping, but I s’pose the food will at least help make it a little bit better right now.” Steve shrugs slightly, a brief trace of uncertainty taking his face. “‘Least I hope so, it usually does."

Eddie huffs, tries to ignore the ache in his chest at Steve knowing exactly what he needs in this moment, and every other moment, honestly, even when Eddie’s a dick to him. He crosses his arms tightly across his torso. "I told you, I'm fine."

Steve chuckles, a glint to his eyes. "Yeah, you are, babe. Fine as hell." Eddie groans, mutters of “stop it” and “oh my god” filtering through, which makes Steve’s sad smile a bit more happy. "But you're not okay right now. So, I'm gonna get you your usual and we're gonna go home and probably watch some god awful movie that Robin picked out and have a quiet night in while I take care of you." 

“But–”

At that, Steve shuts his door, effectively cutting off Eddie’s protests, then smacks the roof of the car twice like some middle aged suburban dad, shooting fingers gun through the windshield, before spinning around and sauntering into Benny's. Eddie watches him, chuckling to himself at Steve's over exaggerated walk, his hips bopping this way and that, before he leans over the counter talking to Benny. 

“He’s such a fucking dork.” Eddie mutters to himself. 

He watches Steve for a moment, watches how his hands gesture and his foot kicks the ground while he talks to Benny, how Benny laughs and nods along like they’re old friends, which Eddie supposes they are after Benny being the one to find El first all those years ago now. Eddie thinks it’s crazy just how many people in this town knew about the goddamn horror dimension for years and still decided to stay here – especially after the ground fucking cracked open like the ice breaking on the lake at the first signs of spring rolling in. Fucking idiots, the lot of them.

Though Eddie himself is still here, only a couple years since it all finally ended, so who’s he to judge, really.  

He knows that once Steve comes out with their food, that they’ll go home and set up on the couch, probably with Robin if she’d made it in yet, to watch some horrid movie she picked up on campus. He knows that he and Steve will have to talk later, that Steve won’t let him fester in his emotions. He knows that Steve will hold him, will let him complain about the pain, both physical and emotional. He knows Steve will offer his shoulder to soak Eddie’s tears. He knows Steve will do it all without any complaint, will offer him love and support and kindness and make all the rough edges from the day smooth out.

Eddie knows Steve will pour all of his love out in their shared bed, shouldering all of the pain if Eddie would let him. 

Eddie will never let him, though. 

Steve’s been through too much – way too much – before Eddie even really knew him. He can’t bring himself to add to that pain more than he already does, to give Steve anything more to be concerned about. Besides, it’s not like Steve can actually fix any of the issues, and Eddie already complains “Way Too Muchson” as it is, so he’ll just bear it on his own. 

Steve deserves a partner who’s simple. Simple to love and simple to care for. Simple means less emotions. 

He can do that. 

He can be less.

Eddie knows he’s far from being simple in any aspect of the word, but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t try if that means selfishly keeping Steve. 

God, he feels like such a fucking dick. 

Eddie slumps low in his seat, covering his face with both hands again before screaming all the breath from his lungs. His chest still aches, but it’s settling a bit, though his heart is still firing off far faster than it should. "Fuck. Chill the fuck out, Munson. You’re fine. Get your shit together for once and stop spiraling." 

He reaches down and pulls the lever to let his seat recline. His legs find their home curled up beneath him as he leans back. He lays there, working through his breathing exercises, focusing on the low hum of the car’s engine and the faint sound of stray cars passing on the thoroughfare. The words of his doctors tumble through his brain, telling him to “focus on happy thoughts” as if he was on some after school special. Eddie had honestly grown sick of all the platitudes they threw at him. He’s sick of being told that yoga and good vibes will fix the very real and very wrong illnesses he’s started stacking like legos. It’s not like you can “good vibe” your way out of a heart attack – but, at least with that, they know how to treat it. They have no fucking clue what POTS or fibromyalgia even is, really, and Eddie is exhausted from being the government’s personal test dummy for treatments. Hell knows he grew up as a test dummy, or some nights punching bag, for Al’s bullshit. He guesses “test dummy” deserves a slot on his resume now.

Still, the nagging part of his brain that sounds a hell of lot like Wayne tells him that “mopin’ around and stewin’ in those thoughts of yours won’t do ya any damn good,” so he might as well make the hellhole of his brain a little less “toppled milk crate” and a little more “pillow fort” in nature. Eddie sighs, grumbles out a quiet curse at Wayne.

He tries to focus on calming thoughts, happy thoughts – thoughts that had honestly become more common and easier to call on in the last few years. They start playing through his mind like previews. 

Wayne coming home from a late night shift, taking a seat by Eddie on the porch, reaching a hand over for a cigarette. The two sitting in silence, enjoying the early morning air from Wayne’s new porch, comforted by the scent of nicotine swirling around them, close by the Hopper/Byers household. Wayne reaching his arm around Eddie’s shoulder, squeezing them together, his calloused thumb on his free hand coming up to wipe the stray tears streaming from Eddie’s eyes, a gruff “Proud of ya, son.” bobbing out around the cigarette dangling from his chapped lips. 

Steve’s face lazily smiling at him over syrupy pancakes and coffee at their kitchen table every morning, music softly playing on the record player. Never a quiet moment in their home after everything, everyone’s tapes and records stacked up neatly just in case.

Robin walking through Family Video, rattling off whatever films she was determined to force him and Steve through that weekend, while regaling him with whatever drama had trampled through her college the last few days.

Joyce and Hopper pulling him aside one night as Wayne was getting set up in his new place, the gaggle of kids and adults moving boxes around. Joyce squeezing him so hard, whispering fiercely into his ear, “You will always have a home with us, Eddie. You and Wayne both.” Hopper’s hand coming down firm on his shoulder, a nod passing between them like it had so many nights before out in the forests of Hawkins, but this time Hopper’s words coming out, “We love ya, kid. You let me know if anyone, and I mean anyone, in this town gives you any shit. You’re a free man now.” Eddie’s face wet with tears, a relief spreading through his bones, the only response he could manage a small nod and smile, a tiny “Thank you.” before falling into their outstretched arms.

Dustin taking up the Hellfire reins at school and asking him for pointers on each new campaign idea and NPC development, scoffing at Eddie’s suggestions, telling him how they would never work. Eddie still catches him making notes the whole time.

Teaching himself how to skate so he could help Max relearn after it all ended, though she constantly bitched at his form and balance in front of the others, only to hug him and whisper “thank you” once they took off alone.

Teaching Mike how to play guitar, though the kid seriously struggled with rhythm at first, but made up for it in rock solid determination.

Will timidly coming out to him before most of the rest of the group and asking him for advice, Eddie being the first openly gay man the kid had met, which broke Eddie down to tears quicker than the demobats had.

Erica calling him for rides more often than Steve, which she swore was because Steve was “too soft looking” and “ruining her street cred,” though Eddie started suspecting she just really really liked hanging out with him, a statement she once punched him for with a soft glare and sharp turn of her mouth and a “you wish, Munson” before fiddling with the tape deck to “put on some real music.”

Making a pointed effort to show up to all of Lucas’ games throughout the rest of the kid’s high school career, something which Lucas constantly told him he didn’t have to do, that Eddie was forgiven for ever making Lucas choose, even though he always sought out Eddie’s face in the crowd, a massive grin taking over his features every single time they made eye contact.

Lazy afternoons in the grass with El, picking dandelions and daisies, showing her how to braid them through her hair, El’s smile radiating stronger than the sun bearing down on their sweat-slick skin. Giving her a chance to be a fucking normal kid for once, something she always hugged him and thanked him for. 

Days in the library with Nancy, their unofficial book club meetings every few weeks when she made the visit home from college, swapping theories and final thoughts and sharing recommendations, alternating their picks.

Nature walks with Jonathan, helping him frame shots for his portfolio, trading stories about their fucked up dads, Eddie finally feeling an inkling of understanding from another kid in this town.

Hell, even Argyle, who came to visit often enough that, one day, he just never left, shacked up at Jonathan’s, so Eddie took him around town to his favorite spots, talked to him about California life, found comfort in Argyle’s relaxed attitude and warm smiles and casual acceptance of all the shit the world had thrown at them. 

He plays over so many good memories that had left the last few years bursting at the seams, barely contained in Eddie’s fragile body, mingling with all the horror, both spilling through the cracks in the middle of the night when he couldn’t sleep, another nightmare rattling through him, when Steve reached over and grabbed his hands, soothing him quietly, assuring him it was okay, that it was over now, then telling him to share a happy memory, and listening to him talk about whichever of the party he’d recently been with, what they’d gotten up to, watching the tension release from his shoulders, the creases in his brows smoothing out, his voice getting quieter and words getting further apart before he drifted off to sleep.  

Eddie feels the corners of his eyes wet, so many tears unshed, so many good memories, so much pain bottled inside, boiling beneath his skin, constantly threatening to spill over, getting closer and closer to the limit every day. He refuses to break down in front of anyone – in front of Steve or any of their friends. Too tired of being a burden in their lives. Too many times being chastised for it, told he was weak and a disappointment when he let the tiniest bit show.  

He hears Al’s voice creep in, bellowing down the hall of their trailer, the wallpaper yellowing and fraying at the edges. Sees himself scrambling to hide his journals under the mattress, grasping for the closest ball, spinning it in his hands as Al stumbles in. Feels the spittle of Al’s rage hit him just before the rough leather boot lands against his thigh, knocking him over on the floor. Feels the tears prick his eyes, his arms tightening around his middle, as Al–

A soft rapping on the window behind him, followed by a muffled click of the door handle being pulled, brings Eddie out of his head. He sniffles, swallows down the rage and fear that were taking over the happy memories of his real family. 

He feels Steve’s warmth before he sees him. 

Eddie basks in Steve’s gentle heat, inhaling the air he brings with him – soft vanilla, woodsmoke, a bit salty from the sweat of the day, mixed with that of the food, of salty fried potatoes, grilled meat, toasted bread, and… “Strawberry?” Eddie twists to the side, peeking out from under the arm draped across his face. 

Steve chuckles, knees crouched as he places an armful of to-go boxes in the backseat carefully, under the recline of Eddie’s seat. “You and that nose of yours, Munson. I swear you missed a calling as a hunting dog or somethin’.” 

Eddie snorts. “That requires too much runnin’ for my liking. You know I’m too attached to sittin’ on my ass for anything like that.” He pulls his arm down, allowing his full attention to direct towards Steve, the corner of his mouth ticking down slightly. “Besides, I’ve done enough runnin’ for a lifetime. I’d rather not do it ever again.”

Steve meets his eyes, a soft, sad smile on his face. “Yeah, me too.” He reaches his hand out to brush some stray curls back from Eddie’s face, his hand cradling Eddie gently, thumb rubbing against the corner of his eyes, picking up the damp left there. He opens his mouth, closes it briefly, worries his lip between his teeth, before murmuring a tentative, “You okay, sweetheart?” 

Eddie leans into Steve’s touch, nuzzling his cheek deeper into his boyfriend’s hand. He takes a moment to stare, to really take in the man crouched in front of him, this pure adonis of a man with the evening sun dropping behind him, casting him in soft pinks and yellows, softening and blurring the edges of his face. He takes in Steve’s soft smile, the way the plush of his lips spills at the edges, how the space between his brows is soft and relaxed, how his eyes stare back, slightly crinkled at the edges, full of unrepentant adoration and softness and care. Eddie thinks about how no one has ever looked at him like that before Steve, how he isn’t sure he even deserves it, knows he doesn’t deserve it from Steve, but fuck, if he isn’t greedy enough to take every scrap of it he can get it, storing these images away deep in the recesses of his brain, in a folder in a toppled over milk crate labelled “Too Good for Eddie Munson,” just in case the day ever came he had to live without the man before him.  

“Just thinking, ‘s all.” Eddie murmurs. 

Steve reaches his other hand out to wrap around Eddie’s forearm, slowly dragging up and down. “You wanna talk about it right now?”

Eddie knows that Steve, however begrudgingly, would continue to drop the topic for now as he so often does – even though he’d been doing so at what must be a worrying rate for him in the near hour they’d been gone from home – but will bring it up again later, coaxing Eddie to let out his emotions, or at least however much of them Eddie was willing to let slip. Never all of them – just small spills here and there when the pressure got to be too much.

And fuck, if the pressure wasn’t overwhelmingly too much these days.

Eddie lets a small smile slip, the pot of his emotions starting to boil over at the edges, splats of water fizzing violently beneath his skin. “Thinkin’ ‘bout how you’re too damn good for me, Harrington. What’d I ever do to deserve you?”

Steve scoffs. “What’d I ever do to deserve you is a better question?” 

“Ah, well, my running theory is that you’re permanently cursed from years of otherworldly fuckery, so you’ve been sentenced to loving me. Probably one last,” Eddie throws his hands up, wiggling his fingers and smirking, “fuck you from Vecna himself. That’s the only thing that makes any sense to me.” He settles his hands back in his lap. 

Eddie means it as a joke, he thinks, though he knows there was a bit too much truth to his tone – a bit too much of a grimace when he said it. 

Steve stares at him, blinks once, twice. His eyes scrunch together, his lips turning down slightly, and – ah, there it is. It’s not quite the ultimate disappointed expression Eddie was waiting for, but it certainly isn’t a happy one. It’s more like a kicked puppy than anything else. 

Yeah, definitely kicked puppy. 

Eddie feels the cracks in his chest festering at it, the darkest crevices singing out their praises, greedily grasping at the expression to deepen the chasm within him. He feels a sick sort of pleasure from it. This is familiar – the hurt on the face of someone he loves. This he knows how to navigate easier than hope and love, even if the pain of seeing Steve look at him this way screams wrong in his brain.

“Is that–” Steve huffs a shaky breath. “You think loving you is a curse?” Steve whispers. 

Well, fuck.

Faintly, he hears Al’s voice calling out to him, telling him “good job, son.” And isn’t that something? That settles like lead in his stomach, bile roiling in his throat. He clamps his teeth together, sure the grinding of them echoes over the hum of the engine.

Steve soothes his thumb across Eddie's cheek once more.  “Sweetheart, loving you is the easiest and best thing I’ve ever done.” 

Eddie can’t help it. He laughs at that. A quick and wet throaty chuckle that makes Steve jump a little, makes his brows furrow. “Why are you laughing?”

“Stevie, nothing about loving me is easy. Believe me, I’ve tried.” 

And, well, if that doesn’t just shatter Steve’s heart on the spot. You’d think Eddie just threw all the kids into the quarry with the way Steve looks at him. But the thing is, Eddie’s telling the truth. He knows loving him is hard. He’s seen it in Wayne, how the man has grown so much older and more exhausted since Eddie was kicked into his yard years ago. Thinks about how much better Wayne would be without him in his life every single day. Thinks about how Wayne may have even found someone to settle down with if he didn’t have to take care of Al’s biggest mistake. Fuck, it’s all he thinks about – how much space he takes up in the lives of those he loves, especially now with how much worse he’s gotten in health.

Eddie knows loving him is hard because he hasn’t even tried since he was a kid, since the 5th or 8th or 12th time his dad told him to “stop being such a sissy writing about your feelin’s and go throw a fuckin’ football or some shit.” Shit sticks after a while. Fuck knows he couldn’t even pick up a notebook to write anything, not even school notes, until he’d lived with Wayne for at least a year, finally learning one night while reading on the couch, hearing Wayne hang up the phone with a sigh, watched him sit next to him, grunt out “Al’s locked up tight this time, kid, ‘m sorry. You’re stuck ‘ith me for a while.” That let a breath out of Eddie he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding, feeling like he could breathe the easiest he had in a decade, a single tear spilling over his young eyes as Wayne gripped his knee tightly.

“Eddie. Oh, baby, come here.” Steve leans forward from the rear door across the reclined seat, wrapping his strong arms across Eddie’s chest awkwardly. Eddie stiffens in his embrace, lets out a small “what?” at Steve’s affection. 

Steve whispers into Eddie’s chest, rubbing his arms up and down in a soothing motion. “I love you so much, sweetheart. So. Much. ‘S the easiest thing I’ve ever done, I promise.” 

Eddie tenses, grumbles against the bunched up shirt on Steve’s chest, arms fidgeting at his sides. He aims for deflection, trying to suppress the raw emotions dangerously clawing their way up out of the chasm in his chest, aching to soak up Steve’s love greedily. “It was a joke, Steve. I’m fi–”

“I swear to fuck, if you say that you’re fine one more goddamn time, I am going to drive down to Wayne’s so we can talk some fucking sense into you.” 

Eddie laughs at that, a deep belly laugh, the air rumbling through his chest, into Steve’s haphazard hold on him. Tears prick the lower lids of his eyes and he tilts his head back into the headrest, willing them to just absorb back into his eyeballs or something, anything to avoid Steve seeing him cry again today. “Y’all teamin’ up on me now?”

Steve squeezes his rumbling chest, voice strong and steady. “If that’s what it takes to get it through your thick skull that you’ve got people who care a whole hell of a lot about you, then yes, obviously.” Steve’s hands soothe against his skin. “I’ll get the kids rounded up for it too. Stage a whole intervention.”

Eddie blinks up at the ceiling of the car, grown rough and scratched after years of carting children around. He follows one of the slight tears in the fabric, thinks about how Steve 4 years ago would’ve lost his shit at it, probably would’ve yelled at who did it and made them pay for it even though he was swimming in the monetary “love” of his parents.  

He thinks about how Steve now is so different – how Steve now didn’t bat an eye at Max when her skateboard nicked the roof as she jumped in. Eddie aches over how scared she’d looked and how she immediately spewed out a series of “I’m sorry”s and “I’ll fix it”s – he knew where that fear came from. But, he thinks over how Steve now shrugged her off, told her it wasn’t a big deal. Eddie thinks about how that was at least a year ago now and the tear was still there with a tiny smiley face and a “-Max” written beside it like she was signing a work of art. 

Eddie bites his lip, sucks in a sharp breath. “Hurtful. My skull isn’t that thick, Harrington.” 

“Could’ve fooled me with the whole ‘loving me is a curse’ bullshit, man.”

“I’m just sayin’, you spent enough time breathing in that fucked up dimension, you were bound to be cursed with somethin’. It’s not out of the realm of possibi–”

Steve starts to pull back at that, a short “Wayne’s it is, then” falling from his lips, the cool air hitting Eddie’s stomach viciously as his shirt rides up. Eddie grasps desperately at Steve’s arms, clinging to them like his life depends on it. It honestly feels like it does in that moment.  

“Wait.” Eddie murmurs, his fingers bruising in their grip on Steve’s arms. “Please. Don’t–” Eddie stumbles, the boiling emotions thick and wet in his throat. “Just…hold me. Please. Don’t–” He swallows thickly, whispers out, “Don’t leave.” He feels Steve’s chest take in a sharp breath, feels him melt a bit.

“Of course, sweetheart.” Steve winds his arms around Eddie’s middle, squeezing their chests together. 

Eddie knows Steve’s back must be aching from this angle, but he can’t bear to let him go. He feels like if he lets Steve go right now, the pot will finally boil over and all his messy emotions will rush out of him with nowhere to land. 

He swallows them down thickly, nuzzling his nose into Steve’s chest, inhaling deeply, basking in the woodsmoke and vanilla that follows him around. They stay like that for a while – Eddie’s face buried in Steve’s chest, Steve’s strong fingers rubbing soothing patterns against the strip of Eddie’s back peeking out from where his shirt rode up. 

Eddie feels a few more drops splatter chaotically out of the pot, searching for a place to land.

Eddie squeezes his eyes as tightly shut as possible, trying to minimize the damp that aches to fall from them. He keeps his face smushed tightly into Steve’s chest, his mouth pressed into the wrinkles of Steve’s t-shirt, hoping it would muffle what he was prepping to say enough. After a few moments, croaks out a quiet, “’M sorry I keep fucking up, and that…that all my health shit is getting worse.” He takes a steadying breath, sniffles lightly into Steve’s crinkled shirt. “And that I’ve got too much shit trauma makin’ it all worse.” A beat passes. “But, thank you. Thank you for…for takin’ care ‘f me so well.” He’s not even sure if Steve hears him, kind of hopes he doesn’t, while a smaller part of him hopes that he does. Because if Steve did hear him, then that means he’d put together what was going on well enough so Eddie wouldn’t have to say so many words in explanation later. 

Hopefully. 

Probably not, but hopefully.

Eddies ventures a bit quieter, “I love you, Stevie.” 

He loves Steve so much it hurts – hurts more than all the demobats ever did, than his father’s hands grasped around his weak body, or all his health issues do now. 

God, he loves Steve so much that it radiates through every fiber of his being, thrumming loudly in his veins.

“I know you do, sweetheart.” Steve responds quietly. Eddie gasps a bit, mild parts shock, mild parts relieved. “I love you too. Fuck, I love you so much.” Steve takes a deep breath, presses a kiss to Eddie’s stomach. “You’re never too much f’ me. God, I can’t get enough of you.” A few more lazy kisses pepper against Eddie’s stomach. “I meant what I said earlier. I’m gonna take care of you forever. All of you.” Steve squeezes Eddie’s chest tight at that, knocking a slight umph out of Eddie, a few tears spilling over from the force of it.

Eddie laughs a bit, hiccups into Steve's chest, the damp taking over his cheeks, clogging up his throat, his mind replaying “You’re never too much f’ me” over and over and over. 

 “You take care ‘f me just as well, too.”  

“‘S easy when you're so pretty to look at, Stevie.” 

Steve groans in response. “I'm trying to be sweet, you dick.”

Eddie smiles, bites his lip. “Well, you are pretty close to my dick now, so you could be sweet ‘n–”

“Oh my god shut up, you heathen.”

Eddie laughs louder at that, feels the edges of the cavern in his chest knit a little further shut as a few more tears stream down his cheeks, feels a little lighter than he did an hour ago, a little more himself. Steve joins in, their laughs together making what might be the most beautiful sound Eddie’s ever heard.

Eddie pulls up one of his arms, quickly wipes his nose off on his sleeve, smearing his tear-stained cheeks with his palm, before he pushes against Steve’s chest, prying his boyfriend off of him. “Now, didn’t I smell strawberry? You holdin’ out on me, Harrington?”

Steve is still laughing slightly as he extricates himself from his awkward stance, quietly pressing a kiss to Eddie’s lips as he retreats to standing again. He stretches back a bit, leaning to the side until a soft pop echoes into the car, followed by a small grunt. “‘M not sweet enough for you, honey?”

“Oh, you are, but you’ve brought my other true love into the mix: strawberry.” Eddie grins, a manic thing, his cheeks tacky with dried and fresh tears that can’t seem to stop popping out from the boiling mess in his chest.

Steve quirks his head to the side, his eyes squinting slightly as he stares at Eddie’s still wet face, as he watches the near-imperceptible sniffles as Eddie tries to regain his composure. “You know we’re not done with this conversation, right? Like, you know I’m not gonna let you say all of this, be so,” Steve sighs, “so cruel to yourself, without fully talking it out to figure out what’s hurtin’ you, help make sure you’re alright? You aren’t getting off that easy, Munson.”

Eddie smirks. “Actually, I’ll have you know, I get off quite–”

“Bup bup bup! Stop. You know what I mean. No jokes, no laughs, no get-out-of-jail free card.” Steve holds his gaze firmly, eyebrows scrunched together, one hand crooked in his hip. “We’re gonna talk more later and I’m gonna make damn sure you know how fucking much I love and adore every goddamn thing about you. You’re stuck with me. Forever. No matter what you tell me about your past or your present or your future. For. Ev. Er.”

Eddie’s smirk falls as Steve carries on in front of him, his emotions suddenly wholly and completely vulnerable on his face as he stares up at the love of his fucking life. He watches Steve rant above love and forever, watches his hand flit through the air, pointing at Eddie, shooting fire under his skin. Eddie’s sure his face is full of love and adoration and fear and pain. And he’s sure that Steve sees it all and isn’t the least bit fucking scared – a fact that scares Eddie even more, hasn’t stopped scaring him over the last few years. 

Eddie feels the ache deep in his chest, the boiling beneath his skin growing louder, near knocking the lid off the pot. He knows it’s inevitable, has known for years now. Knows he can’t keep hiding away sectors of himself from Steve, can’t keep shielding him from the ugliness inside of him, the pure pain and exhaustion from holding up the remnants of his protective barrier, weakened from decades of performances and, more recently, years of fighting his own body to keep moving.

“Later. Promise.” Eddie whisper-nods, feels the tears hot and heavy on his cheeks again, but keeps his hands fidgeting in his lap, lets them exist in front of Steve unbidden. He quirks his lip up, “I really do wanna see what Robs brings back to show us, first. I miss her.” A beat passes, Eddie’s face shifting to a look of horror. “Oh fuck, did you get her dinner too? Shit, I can go grab it if–”

“I got her dinner too, babe, don’t worry. All safe and secure behind your pretty little head.” Steve smiles, a full face one, a sight that knocks the breath from Eddie’s lungs.

“Fuck me, Harrington, you’re gorgeous. Who the hell lets you just walk that smile around like that? Fuckin’ lethal weapon, jesus.” Eddie sputters out, his eyes sparkling with tears and love.

Steve just laughs, reaches up on top of the car, brings a too-pink drink back down with him, condensation beading aggressively down the sides after baking in the late afternoon sun for however long. “Here, take a sip. Courtesy of Benny. Sorry ‘s a bit melty.” He offers it up to Eddie’s lips, straw already poised and ready, crooked to the side because of-fucking-course Steve got bendy straws like the fucking charmer he is.

“Fuckin’ bendy straws.” Eddie mutters before greedily taking a sip.

“Still top ten.” 

Eddie smirks, mind drifting back to one of their first dates-not-dates at Benny’s. Thinks of Steve, exasperated, as he asked, “How can you not love bendy straws, Munson? They’re easily top ten best straws to exist.” Thinks of himself, leaned across the booth opposite, head lolling to look at Steve dead on, barely hiding a smile as he replied, “I’m not even sure there are ten different types of straws, but please, do go on.”

Eddie pulls away, swallowing down the perfect mixture of vanilla and strawberry chunks. He smacks his lips loudly, grinning lazily up at Steve. “Ya know, you never did tell me your whole top ten. I still think I won that debate.”

Steve smiles, his eyes crinkling beautifully at the edges. He licks his lips, biting the bottom gently. “Hmm, well, I landed in bed with you that night, and the next night, and the next, and basically every night since, so I think I’m the real winner after all.”

Fuck, Eddie is such a goner. 

Steve laughs seeing Eddie’s jaw go slack, his eyes mooning wide. “'M gonna get in so we can head home and meet Robs, ‘kay?” Steve leans down, sticks the shake into Eddie’s hands, presses a kiss to his forehead, before retreating, shutting the door, circling the car to slide into the driver’s seat. 

Eddie sits up, fixes his seat and gets buckled back in. He looks up, catches Benny’s eyes through the door again, sees the old man’s brow furrowed. He raises a tiny wave and smile in response. “Ah shit, Benny saw my breakdown. I don’t think I can ever show my face here again.”

“Benny saw a hell of a lot worse in this town. Seeing you cry in the parking lot is nothing.”

“Alright, damn, Harrington. I see we’re back to joviality, are we?”

Before Steve can respond, a tap hits the hood of the car, making both boys turn to look. Benny stands there, a shy smile on his face, a bag of food in his hand. He rounds to Steve’s window, waits for it to roll down, leans his head down a bit. “Hey, uh, thought y’all might ne–want to try out a new recipe f’ me.” He sticks a bag through the window into Steve’s arms, the smells of even more fried food carrying through.

“New recipe? Really, Benny?” Eddie smiles. “You could jus’ say you saw me out here cryin’ like a baby and that you wanted to help through the powers of greasy food.”

“Munson, my food is not greasy. You take that back right now. I don’t care what kind of breakdown you’re having.” Benny’s stern voice carries across the console, his finger pointing over the edge of the window at Eddie. 

Eddie smiles in response, cracks a hefty laugh, wipes the last few tears from his cheeks. 

Steve leans toward the backseat, sets the new bag of food in the footwell behind Eddie’s chair, makes sure it’s secure before righting himself. “Thanks, Benny. You’re fueling us for whatever Robs is about to put us through when we get home.”

“Oh, movie night, is it? You tell that girl to come see me ‘fore she leaves again. Be nice to catch up.” Benny smiles, fond and warm.

“Sure thing. ‘M sure she misses you and your cookin’ jus’ as much.” Eddie offers, a matching smile settling on his face. 

Benny nods. “I worry ‘bout y’all still. You tell Wayne ‘r Hopper to call me so we can set up our next shindig.”

“Sure thing. That sounds nice.” Steve replies, reaching over to grab Eddie’s free hand. “Make sure to put your milkshakes on the menu for this one.”

Eddie scoffs, indignant. Brings the half-drunk shake to his lips, sucks down a dramatic swallow. “Whatsoever could you mean by that, my liege?”

Benny laughs, slaps the window frame before standing up. “I’ll keep that in mind. Y’all be safe now. Take care of yourselves. And stop by anytime you need a pick me up. Y'all know ya got pick of the diner anytime ya want." He steps back. "See y'all soon. Night!” He waves before walking back in the diner.

“Night Benny!” Steve yells before rolling up his window. He looks across at Eddie, squeezes their hands together. “You ready to go home?”

Eddie leans his head against the window, one hand linked in Steve’s, the other holding the half-drunk milkshake in his lap. He watches as the sun dips behind the trees, as Hawkins starts turning to nighttime. He thinks of how Robin is undoubtedly lounging on the couch by now, probably irritated at the two of them for taking so long and cutting into their cherished hangout schedule. 

Eddie knows he isn’t okay, knows things won’t be just because he spends the night smushed between his best friends on their too-soft couch. He knows it won’t all be magically fixed when he tumbles into bed with Steve, when he peels back the edge of the pot to let out the first stream of boiling water, releasing the pressure that’s been keeping the cavern in his chest satisfied for so long. He knows that things won’t magically just get better overnight. 

But still, he smiles, takes a sip of the too-sweet milkshake, squeezes the hand of the love of his goddamn life, and lets himself relax into the comfort of the life they’ve built together, knowing that no matter what, Steve will still be there every time he opens his eyes for the rest of his life.

A thought that scares him, but maybe not in the terrifying I-need-to-arm-and-protect-myself way that Eddie falls to so easily.

No, more in the I-have-someone-who-loves-me-for-everything-I-am-and-always-will way. 

Loves him for all of his “Too Muchson” self. 

He turns, smiles at his boyfriend. “Yeah, Stevie. ‘M ready.” 

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

a/n: hi! This is absolutely a self-indulgent fic. I put Eddie through the ringer – meaning, gave him some of my chronic illnesses and piled on some trauma and served him up to Steve to patch up. I feel a lot helpless with all my health issues daily, so this was a way of me trying to cope with that. I also showed some glimpses of past trauma in Eddie. People have their own trauma and bullshit to deal with already – piling chronic illness on top of it makes the lines all muddy and makes it even more difficult. Chronic illness is debilitating and can ruin relationships of any kind. Same for trauma. I gave Eddie the most supportive relationships because he deserves love and care, and because that’s all I fucking want honestly.

So, here are some silly little bits of research I did for this, and for my own health over the months of diagnoses. I tried to get as accurate as possible, but please let me know if any dates are off (and if they are, pretend for continuity they aren’t). There’s honestly not enough research done on fibro and dysautonomia or POTS.

Fibromyalgia was first recognized as an official diagnosis in 1987 by the AMA, though records on versions of it were recorded in the early 1800s. Definitions for fibro wouldn’t come about until 1990, which is a little less than a year after this story takes place. I hc that Eddie is helping in the research for this process. 

There was some research to show the connection between fibro and other health issues around 1984. This is what we think of as comorbidities. 

A form of dysautonomia called familial dysautonomia was first diagnosed in 1949. This is a very severe form of dysautonomia that is often life threatening.

The first autonomic laboratory was established at the Mayo Clinic in 1983 by Dr. Phillip Low. This focused on the study of autonomic nervous system disorders.

Even though POTS wasn’t an official on paper diagnosis until 1993, it was studied for decades prior, being known as a variety of names, like irritable heart syndrome in 1871, soldier’s heart, and postural tachycardia syndrome (without the orthostatic) in 1982.  

I take liberties with calling it POTS here even though it wouldn’t be an on-paper diagnosis until 1993. Eddie exhibits all the symptoms, so the government is using him to work toward POTS as an official diagnosis. Artistic liberties, deal with it. 

Bendy straws were invented in 1937. Yes, I did look this up just for historical accuracy.

this is also my first fic, so please be nice :) considering posting to ao3, but still kind of scared, so not yet (it is in fact totally on ao3 now)

i do not consent to my work being used in any ai training or any ai related projects, or to my work being copied, reposted, or stolen in any capacity. likes and reblogs are lovely and bring joy to my tired heart.

freak out in the notes with me about these beautiful idiots. i hope you love them as much as i do.

tags: @sunshine-daydreams0809 (i finished it)

[greenfiend]

Analyzing the Letters within ST

and how they all hint at the possible letter revealed at the very end of the show

While we all love to speculate on Mike’s possible hidden love letters to Will, revealing his true feelings and them finally getting together; the show is hinting toward something else. Something more heartbreaking.

CW: death.

The first significant letter within the show is Hopper’s letter for El. In it, Hopper reveals his feelings that were difficult to verbally express. It’s also worth noting that Hopper was seen as dead at this point. So, two important things to note:

Communication between one “dead” character and one alive character.

Revealing feelings that were difficult to express in person.

The next time we see a letter is El’s letter to Mike. This one is mostly lies. El makes her time in Lenora sound more pleasant and palatable. Some things to note:

While El is alive, she moved to “the west” which symbolizes death (where the sun sets).

El creates a “watered down” story of her true life in Lenora. The truth was too unpleasant.

Next we are given some information about Mike’s letters addressed to El. Mike is unable to write “Love, Mike” and instead writes “From, Mike”. Most of us can understand that this is clearly set up for the introduction of a “Love, Mike” letter addressed to someone.

We also see Will bring up the fact that Mike did not write him any letters. Whereas he wrote El “a book of letters”. Mike is defensive in response stating “that’s because she’s my girlfriend, Will!”. Some things to note here:

A “book of letters” is a strange and unnecessary statement. The association between a “book” or story and letters is clearly made here. This is likely foreshadowing.

Mike associates letters with romance.

Also, while the build up for a “Love, Mike” letter has been established, there is now build up for a letter addressed to Will.

Next we have Max’s letters addressed to Billy, and her friends. Max attempts to give Lucas a letter but he refuses to take it and says “I don’t need a letter, I’m right here.” There’s a lot to note so I’ll start with Max’s letters for Lucas and her friends. Let’s breakdown the things to note:

Lucas saying he doesn’t need a letter because he’s “right here” is very relevant because it tells us that letters are only necessary if one person isn’t present. Also, Lucas saying he’s “right here” is a nod towards Will in the first season.

Max wrote these letters for her friends because she thought she was going to die. Another association between death and letters here.

Max later reads her letter to Billy and there’s so many things to note.

Billy’s name is also William. There’s a frame where we see his grave say “William” on it and we see another grave with “_YERS” written on it. AND the song “Letter to Willy” played during the scene. Clearly this scene is loaded with Will foreshadowing/subtext.

Billy is dead. Max expresses her feelings towards Billy “before it’s too late” aka before she dies too.

Max ends her letter with “Love, Max.”

Letter to Willy

This is the song that played when Max read her letter to Billy, but it also played during two other scenes.

During this scene, Mike expresses guilt over El being gone and him not going with her. Will validates his feelings and tells him that it’s scary to say how you really feel aka expressing one’s true feelings. This all occurs while they are in the middle of digging a grave for a man who died as a hero.

During this scene, Dustin informs Eddie’s uncle that Eddie died a hero. Some parallels are made with the time Mike told Lucas that Will was heroic in the very first episode.

Mike’s Windbreaker

It’s clear as day that the costume designer went the extra mile to add a pocket on Mike’s shirt that appears like a letter. That letter is also on his left side, so exactly where his heart is. Most of us are already aware of this fact, but it’s still very relevant here.

SO… with all that information, what can we decipher from all these clues?

There will be a significant letter written by Mike next season. It’ll imply romantic feelings. This letter will end in “Love, Mike”.

Will will be the recipient of a letter. As Will complained to Mike that he did not send Will any letters, that letter likely will be from Mike. The letter will start with “Dear Will”.

This letter likely will reveal true feelings that were difficult to express in person.

The death foreshadowing surrounding Will (the graves with his name on it, the dead William, burying the dead body, etc) and the association with letters being sent between one dead and one alive character likely means that: Will is no longer alive when this letter is written/received.

There may be a book or story attached to the letters.

This all leads me too…

Now before I breakdown what I believe fits into these blanks, I want to clear up a couple of things that have been brought up before:

“This letter was just revealed to be a letter from the ST writers to us fans during ST day years ago.” Yes that is true. However, it wouldn’t make sense for them to post it like this if that’s all it meant. That’s pretty lame to be honest. We know they love to be vague and cryptic with their clues of what’s to come in the show, why wouldn’t they be doing that here as well? Plus this letter fits perfectly with the set up I just described. Perfectly. I’ll explain that soon.

2. “This is… not about a couple”. Yes they said that but it’s incredibly vague. That could mean a lot of things. It could even simply mean they aren’t a couple yet within the show, or because one of the characters is no longer alive…

Now let’s properly break down the letter.

“anyway I think you’ll ____ sorry I couldn’t get it done ____”

These lines imply that the writer of the letter attached something to it. The writer likely thinks the recipient will like whatever they attached.

The writer then apologizes about something. The wording makes it seem like they’re apologizing about not completing whatever is attached on time. If time is what they’re apologizing for, this is likely Mike writing this. Mike has been associated with running late many times throughout the show.

This is my guess: “anyway I think you’ll like [the ending]. sorry I couldn’t get it done [on time]”

The next part is easy and was confirmed by the writers:

“but you mean so [much to me]”

Obviously whoever wrote this letter cares deeply about the recipient.

“and it’s been [so hard being without you]”

I guessed this part. The writer is making an excuse as to why they weren’t able to complete something on time. It makes sense that the writer was struggling from being away from the recipient and thus that was the excuse for the delay. This would make even more sense if the writer was struggling with grieving the recipient.

“hope this is [enough to] last until [we meet again]. Love, [Mike].”

The “enough to” was simple enough to complete, not much else can fit in that context.

I guessed the “we meet again” because of many clues. Mainly because of the death foreshadowing surrounding Will and Mike, specifically: Will dying first followed by Mike. Also, the Russian code “when blue meets yellow in the west”. Going “west” symbolically means “to die” as the sun sets in the west. So, if I’m correct, and Will has passed on, then Mike will meet him again soon.

Now, the date “November 6, 1983” is there because…

The attachment is the complete story of the entire show, beginning on that very specific date. The book attached to the letter, or the “book of letters” if you will. Mike wrote the story, or rather finished the story for Will. He couldn’t “get it done on time” because Will likely passed on prior to the completion of the story. He wrote the story, which is the “watered down” version (like El's letter) of the true horrors he and Will experienced, and others too. The story was written so he and Will could survive everything in the end and become heroes. I talk more in depth about that theory here.

While the death foreshadowing is depressing and the temptation to ignore and dismiss it is high… it still does exist. It cannot be denied. But keep in mind, there may be some form of resurrection at play in the show, it’s not like they haven’t done something like that before.

[celestial-games]

As I've now made over 400 sprites I thought it would be fun to share the numerical breakdown so far :]

406 insects

- 309 beetles

- 65 butterflies/moths

- 13 true bugs + hoppers (Hemiptera)

- 12 wasps/ bees /ants

- 2 lacewings

- 1 mantis

- 1 grasshopper

- 1 stick insect

- 1 silverfish

1 spider

Among beetles, which is the most complete group I've made so far, the top families are

53 ground beetles (Carabidae)

31 longhorn beetles (Cerambycidae)

22 scarabs (Scarabaeidae)

21 lady beetles (Coccinellidae)

18 Metallic wood-boring beetles (Buprestidae)

16 click beetles (Elateridae)

I have also not made the leaf beetles yet (Chrysomelidae) which will eventually have 50+ species

[fandoms-in-law]

Say Yes

Summary: Steve definitely doesn't want to agree to whatever brings the Party into Family Video asking him to just agree.

Author's Note: This week I have had a breakdown after watching a VR video of a carcrash that did NOT have enough warnings given about it. Why the hell did my brain decide driving lessons were the best things to use for the 'Say Yes' loveheart sweet? You're not getting any actual lessons written about.

~

“Okay before you start, we’ve planned everything. You just need to agree.” Dustin began, grinning at Steve in the way the kid thought was charming. The fact he only smiled like that when he wanted someone worked constantly against that.

Steve frowned at him for a moment before turning away to carry on loading the returns onto the trolley to be re-shelved. “That definitely does not make me want to agree to anything. What is it you’re asking and why would you greet anyone like that?”

Mike glared past him, towards where Robin had been working. “Robin was meant to have told you already.”

“Except I don’t agree and definitely did not say yes to being your support against Steve.” She called, uncaring of the glares being thrown her way, but did offer the explanation up at Steve’s questioning noise. “By the way, what they’re asking for is group driving lessons from you.”

“No. Definitely not all together.” He shuddered at the thought. “One learner is bad enough but having everyone else distracting them? You would kill us all in the first lesson.”

“Then start with me, you already know I can drive.” Max goaded and he scoffed.

“No, I know you imagine you can, and I know whoever lets you behind a wheel next should have called Hopper and an Ambulance ahead of time.

Dustin came over and nudged his side, attempting to be playful, “One at a time then, while the rest of us hang out at yours. Come on Steve, don’t you want us to stop bugging you for rides.”

He stared back attempting to be emotionless, before shaking his head. “Robs, have I taught you to drive?”

“Nope. You said, and I quote, ‘One of us has the smarts to change the world and the other is happy being her chauffeur. Don’t take that job from me.’ By the way, we still haven’t decided what job I’m aiming for to be able to pay you to drive me around.” She stated.

“I don’t even want you teaching me, but say yes so we can all get some peace.” Mike grumbled.

“Yeah, say yes Steve. You are a good teacher anyway and we can’t all fit in your car still.” Lucas spoke up for the first time.

Will snickered behind him, “Mike, you literally suggested Steve because you don’t want your sister teaching you. I’ve had a couple lessons with Jonathan, so I’m just here to learn alongside my friends. Please say yes so we can do that.”

Steve looked the group over with narrowed eyes, settling on El, “And has Hopper agreed to me teaching you? That seems like something he’d want to share.”

“He has a lesson plan to share with you so I can learn some from both of you.” She replied seriously. “Please agree.”

He walked away from them, pushing his hands through his hair then tugging it back into place as well as he could without a mirror to check.

Looking at the pleading or expectant looks of the group he groaned.“One at a time. Different evenings and nobody hangs out at my home without me there. If in three months you’re making decent progress, I might MIGHT allow you to come along in groups of three, but that’s a big If.”

Despite his instructions matching neither of the things they’d asked for the younger teens all cheered until he cleared his throat. “And have you got your provisionals already? Because I’m not teaching you without them.”

“We’ll get them!” Dustin quickly promised. “Get them as soon as we can and show you how well we did to get them.”

Steve groaned again. He did not want to imagine these young teenagers driving at all, and definitely wasn’t looking forward to teaching them all. But the excitement and repetitions of “He said yes” going around the group was kind of adorable.

“They’re growing up quickly, aren’t they?” Robin commented leaning on his shoulder. “You going to get empty nest syndrome when they head off to college?”

He snickered, jabbing his elbow back, “Give over, I’m not their dad.”

“Pretty sure you are.” She teased back, before both of them went back to work, ignoring the teens now focused on picking out a movie to watch that evening.