chronicrabbit

[chronicrabbit]

Scenes We Deserved To See:

eddie: uhh hey sorry if i made things weird for you when i called steve 'big boy' outta nowhere

robin: honestly, i'm used to it. if i can endure steve after hearing him call himself 'daddy', i can survive anything.

eddie, visibly sweating: uh - s- ste- steve called himse- whe- in what cont- how - i - [clears throat] so how'd that happen? [eddie tries to lean casually on the rv table, loses co-ordination and fully smacks his jaw against it]

[chronicrabbit]

dads bc i've missed them :'))

[chronicrabbit]

ST Season 4 Rewrite Idea:

I know this is a departure from my normal Steddie content, but Jason Carver’s death made no fucking sense to me, so this is how I would’ve done it for the ✨drama✨

So, I know we hate Jason.

He’s a religious zealot who allowed his anger and his grief to take control of him, and he singlehandedly turned the entire town against an innocent man.

But, let’s examine his character for just a moment, shall we?

We know the Duffle Bags tend to introduce villainous characters for the pure and simple sake of being villains. They don’t really go very deep into the psychology of why said character is a villain.

With Billy, you saw a few glimpses of the why, but Billy’s character was honestly just too big and too complicated to properly flesh out in the time allotted.

I think the same is true of Jason Carver.

Jason was the new golden boy post King Steve. He was a clean cut Steve Rogers type with a pretty girlfriend who he seemed to care deeply about, and a charmed and simple life.

And then he finds out that not only was his beautiful girlfriend brutally murdered, but she was found at the trailer of the local drug dealer flunky Freak that makes a spectacle of himself in the lunchroom and isn’t afraid to poke fun at the jocks like any normal nerd should be.

Chrissy didn’t do drugs.

That’s what he told everyone who suggested that she could’ve possibly been there for unsavory reasons. Because why would Chrissy hide something like that from him? She loved him! Right?

Add in a sprinkling of period appropriate Satanic Panic™️ and you’ve got yourself a corrupt Paladin who’s deluded himself in his rage and religious paranoia into thinking he’s doing the right thing. It’s Anakin Skywalker all over again, my dudes. Just FAR less appealing.

Taking all of that into account, I don’t think Jason should’ve shown up at the Creel house just because some random dude happened to spot Erica there. That’s lazy writing, tbh.

I think Jason should’ve gone to Eddie’s trailer after someone tipped him off that Eddie had been spotted going inside with a whole group of people, because come on. How were they not spotted?

Picture it:

He and two of his basketball buddies show up and case the place. They check the windows and the surrounding area, and decide to send someone in when they see no one inside.

Jason insists he go in himself.

The Freak is his to take down once and for all.

He walks into the trailer, so focused on checking his surroundings that he very nearly misses the sheet rope dangling from the ceiling over a mattress.

He looks up and his jaw drops open when he sees the portal; this orange glowing tear in the fabric of the universe.

Without a second thought, he pulls himself through, landing on the other side to see the same trailer, but somehow different, darker, with thick black vines covering every available surface.

He hears the sound of an electric guitar wailing from somewhere outside, louder than anything he’s ever heard before.

He dodges the vines and rushes out the door, his heart skipping a full beat as he takes in the sight of the Upside Down for the first time; the unearthly red and orange sky, the overwhelming stench of death and decay, the falling ash that burns his lungs and throat.

He turns back toward the trailer then to see none other than Eddie Munson, standing on the roof of his trailer in what he’s pretty certain is Hell, playing his guitar as if his very life depends on it.

Beside him on the roof, one of the Hellfire kids, Dustin Henderson, calls out a countdown. Jason can’t figure out why until he sees a massive black cloud approaching from the distance.

The one man metal concert ends, and then Munson and the kid are climbing down from the roof and their eyes meet.

“Is this hell?” Jason yells, his voice cracking with something so much deeper than fear.

“Was this your plan all along, Freak? To open a goddamn portal to hell?”

Because this has to be Eddie’s doing, right? He killed Chrissy. He killed Patrick too, right in front of him. This had to be his doing!

Eddie pushes the guitar over his shoulder, eyes flickering up toward the swiftly approaching cloud of… something. Several somethings.

“Jason, man, you really shouldn’t be here!” Munson says with wide eyes.

Jason raises his hand holding the gun he bought from the War Zone, the weight comfortable and familiar against his palm.

“So what are you gonna do about it, Freak? You gonna kill me too?”

Munson doesn’t even raise his hands at the sight of the gun, distracted as the Henderson kid calls out:

“Eddie they’re almost here! We need to get inside!”

And suddenly Jason can hear the ungodly screeches of approaching creatures; the black cloud becomes a writhing swarm of hundreds upon hundreds of enormous demonic bats.

“What the-“

And before Jason can finish, he’s being herded back into the trailer by Munson and the kid, who quickly bar the door and celebrate their apparently successful escape.

“What the hell is going on here?” Jason demands when he’s finally able to form words through the tight and terrified clench of his throat.

“Jason, we’ll explain everything later. Just…just go back through the portal,” Munson says, and Jason gets the distinct and deeply unsettling feeling that he’s intruded upon something he really really shouldn’t have.

Something he couldn’t begin to understand.

But it’s too late.

The screeching bat like creatures are suddenly battering and clawing against all sides of the reinforced trailer, breaking through vents in a flurry of black wings that Jason is certain will haunt his every waking moment till the day he dies.

He’s petrified, but Munson and the kid are flanking him on either side, shielding him from harm with garbage can lids pierced through with nails.

They’re protecting him.

They’re cursing and screaming in fear, but they’re standing their ground and fighting off the demon bats and Jason realises all at once that he was wrong. He was so so wrong about Eddie Munson and the Hellfire kids.

Munson and Henderson are arguing as they manage to bar the door, but Jason isn’t listening; can’t hear a thing through the shock ringing in his ears like tinnitus.

Henderson is ushering the both of them toward the portal, saying something about giving the others enough time and how they need to go.

Jason is very much into the idea of leaving, and Munson looks just as enthusiastic.

Henderson goes first, shimmying up the rope with Munson’s help until the gravity of the other side pulls him in to land on the dingy mattress below.

Jason follows at Munson’s beckoning, his feet connecting with the mattress on the other side when the screeching and clawing suddenly stops; fades away like a dream upon waking.

The bats are leaving. Why are they leaving?

And Jason knows that look in Munson’s eye.

That look that says:

“My teammates need my help, so I’m going to help them even if it benches me.”

It feels almost diminutive to compare this situation to basketball, but it’s the only thing he can think of.

When Eddie cuts the rope and runs out, Jason follows, using a chair to boost himself up and vaulting right back through into hell.

They lead the bats away from whoever the ‘others’ are.

When they can no longer run, they face the swarm together.

The pain is blinding, but Jason fights through it because he was wrong.

He was so very wrong.

He turned the entire town against Eddie Munson out of fear and misplaced jealousy, and yet, after everything he’d put the other man through, here he was standing back to back with him, fighting with him, defending him.

And sure, Jason had no earthly idea what they were doing or where they were or who they were keeping the bats from, but he did know that he would keep going until the end.

The end that was coming for both of them.

He refuses to let that happen. He throws himself in front of Eddie as the swarm bears down, throwing the other boy back to take the brunt of the attack.

And it hurts more than anything he’s ever experienced, but he stands his ground despite Eddie’s cries, because he needs to make this right; for Munson, for Chrissy, and for himself.

He says as much when he finally crumbles to the ground in tandem with the bats, his blood mingling with Eddie’s as the other boy holds him in his arms, tears he doesn’t deserve gathering in his eyes.

“I believe you,” Jason finds it in himself to nod, ignoring the searing pain in his neck at the small movement. He’s pretty certain there’s a bit of it missing.

“I believe you didn’t kill Chrissy. I-I shouldn’t have blamed you.”

“Yeah. I gotta say, that was a bit of a bummer, man.”

And Jason actually laughs, or gurgles. There’s so much blood in his mouth.

“I was kinda being framed by a telepathic wizard, if you can believe that.”

“Is that why you’re down here?” he asks, and Eddie nods with no small amount of effort, wincing as his own wounds are jarred by the movement.

“Yeah. We came here to defeat him before he could kill another. I’m-“ he swallows, motioning around to the scattered bodies of the demon bats.

“I’m pretty sure this means that we did it. Or at least did something.”

“Good,” Jason says, his eyes slipping closed.

He’s so tired.

“I don’t know if you could ever forgive me. I sure as hell wouldn’t,” Jason speaks with another weak laugh that rattles in his ribs and burns in his lungs.

“But I want to say I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for everything. I… I guess I just needed someone to blame for my own failings. For never noticing that she needed help. I…”

He whimpers as his vision begins to darken.

“Don’t worry about it right now, dude. Just… stay with me.”

“I-I’m not a bad person. I didn’t think I was, but I…” Jason can’t tell if the wetness on his cheeks is blood or tears.

“Jason, man. You marched into hell with me and helped fight a battle you didn’t belong in.”

Munson says that like it’s unbelievable, but Jason hadn’t even considered it an option to not go back through; to not follow the other boy into the swarm.

“It was…” he starts and stops and starts again. Even keeping his eyes open to meet Eddie’s takes so much effort.

“It was an honor, Munson. Really.”

And Eddie was speaking again, calming words and pleading whispers for him to stay awake,

But he was already gone.

[chronicrabbit]

[chronicrabbit]

steve wasn't trying to humiliate anyone.

"come on, harrington. bet ya 5 bucks, whatcha say?"

but's it's eddie's fault for forgetting how competitve he could get.

smirking, steve leaned on his hand, nonplussed, "you could just give me the money, save us both from wasting time."

the kids around them "Oooooohed" and snickered. the confident, smarmy smile never faltered on eddie's face.

"well damn, tell me how you really feel. alright. ten bucks."

steve's eyes brows shot up in surprise, "are you that eager to lose your hard earned cash, munson? don't want your uncle to come at me for exploitation."

"put up or shut up, big boy," eddie answered, slapping a ten dollar bill on the table.

letting out an exaggerated sigh, steve pulled out his wallet and placed his own tenner next to eddie's, "it's your funeral, dude."

robin gleefully put her own hands over eddie and steve's as they got into position, elbows on the table, hands clasped.

they stared each other down, waiting for robin to release them. eddie's mouth opened in realization the moment robin stepped away, "oh shit, i forgot."

steve blinked, "wha--" and found lips over his own in a soft, tender kiss.

SLAM!

there was yelling and insults thrown around, cackling from various people. all steve could focus on was his own arm, flat on the table, his mouth still tingling from the phantom pressure.

he looked up and saw eddie fanning himself with both bills like some sort of victorian noble, his eyelashes fluttering.

he winked, "thanks for lunch, stevie." but steve couldn't hear him. his eyes targeted the flush of eddie's cheeks, how the redness trailed down his neck and up his ears.

slowly, taking in every twitch and movement from the man across from him, steve leaned forward until his mouth was right up against that crimson ear and whispered, "if you wanted to slam me down, all you had to do was ask."

he stood up and walked away, fist bumping robin on his way to the kitchen while the kids asked eddie why he was coughing so loudly all of the sudden.

no one could call steve harrington a sore loser.

[chronicrabbit]

An answer to the question: What do you do when you create a custom font based off of Steve Harrington’s handwriting

[chronicrabbit]

It starts as a harmless inside joke.

Jeff gets a girlfriend and moves out, Everett dedicates more of his time to his culinary courses, and Gareth himself, decides to get a life beyond gigs and Weed Wednesdays and joins a robotics club on campus.

The combination of all these occurences eventually–inevitably- creates a circumstance that leaves Eddie unsupervised in the rundown 2 bedroom apartment for a little over a week. With all members of his inner circle (read the 3 other Corroded Coffin members) out of town or busy with exams, Gareth has to assume that there was nothing left for the metalhead to do besides give in to each and every one of his usual impulses.

Which is why when he returns from his last midterm to find their shared kitchen space in shambles, Eddie, wide-eyed and seemingly caught red handed with a ladle of..jam?..halfway to his lips, at the center of it all, the only sensible thing to do is take a video and send it straight to the group chat.

Jeff: holy shit. you should really get him a babysitter before going anywhere.

It's the text that starts it all. From then on, all and any Eddie-shaped mishap, regardless of it's scale, is met with the same response. It's never said seriously, never been more than a side comment accompanied with the faintest of frustration or at most an eye roll.

Until the war.

Because as far as pranks go, there's a lot Gareth can put up with, will encourage even, but this?? No way.

He draws the line at having his baby tampered with.

Staring blankly at mayo coated fingers, newly recovered from his tampered conditioner bottle, Gareth makes an oath. He'll accept defeat in this war (if Eddie can do this much it's likely he has worse in store) but his hair will be avenged.

It's what brings him here, slurping obnoxiously on a mango smoothie as the guy across from him blinks slowly behind his wire framed glasses.

"I'm sorry what?"

His own milkshake is untouched, and there's a small but very confused frown on his face, a sunkissed kind of pretty that makes Gareth think he might be Eddie's type– which could easily turn this whole thing to either the best or worst payback ever, but he's come this far so there's no turning back now.

Gareth figures he should offer a better explanation than the one he's given so far, but there's something very entertaining about the absurdity of the request. Why not let himself enjoy it just a little longer? Pulling back his lips with an exaggerated pop, Gareth squints down at the wrinkled paper he'd ripped off of a bulletin board on campus earlier (incidentally the inspiration for this brilliant idea).

"Says here you're open to last minute requests, regardless of age."

The guy– Steve, as is stated on the paper– blinks at him incredulously, seemingly at a loss for words.

"Yeah but...your roommate?" The confusion on his face deepens slightly, head tilting sideways in a way that makes his hair bounce ever so slightly. It's great hair, Gareth wonders what he uses on it.

"How old is he?" Steve asks, and Gareth can practically see him trying to connect dots that sadly do not exist. Still he doesn't bat an eye, tone completely void of emotion when he says "he's 25."

Steve deadpans, parts his lips to say something but seems to decide against it last minute. There's suddenly a hint of guilt on his pretty features– definitely Eddie's type– and he hesitates before asking.

"Huh..is he..yknow...okay?"

An image of mayo on fingers flashes to Gareth's mind, followed instantly by the smug grin on Eddie's face after the war had ended with a surrender.

"That's currently under debate."

And it's clearly the wrong thing to say because suddenly Steve's confusion is transitioning into obvious annoyance. Considering how unclear and unhelpful he'd been so far, Gareth won't be surprised if the guy thinks he's being punked. So before Steve can give him a piece of his mind– judging by the way his eyes are narrowing, it's likely a very large piece– Gareth holds both hands up defensively.

"Okay okay let me explain properly."

5 minutes and a new smoothie later, Steve looks an odd combination of amused and bored where he's leaned against his seat, all signs of his previous professionalism completely gone.

Overall Gareth thinks he's a pretty chill dude, he'd reacted rightfully horrified when they'd gotten to the bit about the conditioner abomination.

"So let me get this straight." Steve says after placing his half empty milkshake back on the table. "Your roommate put mayo in your conditioner– fuck him for that by the way– and since yall have an inside joke about it, you want me to show up on Saturday as his babysitter while you go off partying with your robot friends."

"Robotics club" Gareth corrects

"Yeah whatever."

Considering the nature of the request, it's hard to judge the dismissive attitude, so Gareth shrugs.

"More or less. You down?"

There's a few seconds of what Gareth hopes is consideration before Steve mirrors the shrug. "Lemme see the guy."

Gareth's much too excited to overthink the "Oh yeah. I'm down." that Steve mumbles when he pulls out the post-gig selfie he'd taken with Eddie about a week ago.

He's got a guy for his genius revenge plan and that's all that matters.

Might have even weaseled a friendship out of it, because as they're packing up Steve pauses to ask what products Gareth even uses–"dude your volume is amazing."– and because sue him, great hair solidarity is a thing, he admits that he'd literally been dying to ask Steve the same thing.

Great haircare knowledge aside, Steve is fucking amazing.

He shows up exactly on time. 7:00pm on the dot. The TV is on and Eddie is slouched against one out of the two living room couches, lounging in a black tee and donald duck boxers because he's off the clock and too unbothered to try for a social life beyond the band, occassional bar visits and D&D sessions- the loser. When the doorbell rings he looks up at Gareth, seems almost surprised to find him still there– which fair, Gareth usually leaves early for these things.

"We expecting someone?" He asks, scratches at the corner of his pierced eyebrow and takes a second to stare at himself. Gareth can see the moment he decides whoever they know well enough for an impromptu visit isn't worth putting on pants for.

"Yes actually."

He doesn't elaborate and Eddie doesn't care enough to ask further. It's perfect, means the surprise will be that much sweeter.

Steve is smiling sweetly when the door opens. His hair looks amazing as always and he's holding a bright bag with a sunflower printed to the front. Gareth's not sure whats in it, but the mischief in Steve's voice when he says "even brought my activity bag, coloring books n all" verifies that yes, he'd definitely hired the right person.

Eddie still isn't looking up from the screen when they walk back into the living room. In fact he's started picking at his premolars for whatever piece of dinner is likely stuck there. It's such a lame sight in combination with his outfit and lazy posture that beside him, Steve snorts.

The sound is what finally pulls Eddie's attention towards them, and oh the sweet satisfaction of seeing his roommate absolutely freeze, pinky against teeth and everything. Gareth struggles to keep a straight face as he watches those large eyes shift to Steve– who despite his simple sweater/jeans combo is definitely still attractive enough to warrant a pants-on version of Eddie. He can see the panic slowly wash over his friends face, swallows back a laugh when Eddie jolts to an upright seating position, hand flying from his mouth and hovering awkwardly in the air before settling on his lap.

"Huh." He says dumbly, and even though he doesn't say more, the look on his face thoroughly communicates: 'who the hell is this?'

Gareth doesn't stop his grin this time because he's been waiting for this exact moment for days.

"Eddie, meet Steve."

He knows he must look victorious as fuck right now, if the rising concern on Eddie's face is any indication.

"He'll be your babysitter for tonight."

Beside him Steve does a small little finger wave, bends forward to level with Eddie's stare, a hand on his thigh and voice the high, perky tone only used with children and cute animals

"Hi Eddie~"

And oh god. Gareth loves this guy.

[chronicrabbit]

OK but Eddie 'I've never kissed a guy before' Munson staring suggestively at Steve 'I've kissed lots of guys' Harrington. He'd be fluttering those big brown eyes of his while his hand rests on Steve's thigh and he'd say so quietly, "It doesn't have to mean anything." Because it doesn't. He's convinced that if he kisses Steve and gets that desire out of the way, his heart will stop longing to know how soft Steve's lips are, how he sounds and how he tastes.

But Steve doesn't want that. He kisses Eddie with so much force it nearly knocks Eddie off the couch. Steve wants it to mean everything, he wants Eddie to be able to taste his feelings and feel how much Steve wants the kiss to mean something more than just kissing practice. He hasn't been able to think about anything else but the soft pout of Eddie's lips, about holding Eddie close and tasting each sound from those plush lips. He is going to make Eddie realise he doesn't want to kiss anyone else. Ever. All he wants is Eddie.

[chronicrabbit]

My deep seated fear of pregnancy and my breeding kink go hand in hand

into an alleyway where they fight each other for dominance in my brain

[chronicrabbit]

S2

[chronicrabbit]

steve's favourite thing to do is interchange the names in songs with people's he knows. usually just as a bit of fun, like singing "gimme, gimme, gimme ro-bin after midnight!" to make her laugh in the car when she's had a bad morning. or, "i wish that i was dustin's girl!" in a horrific impression of suzie that makes the kid body slam him in retaliation.

so one day, when him and eddie are hanging out in his kitchen, amicably flitting around each other as they make food, he can't help himself. the drums start up from the radio in the corner and a smile spreads across his face, because he thought of this one weeks ago and has been dying to use it.

he whirls around and points at eddie, who's looked up at the sudden movement, with the business end of a wooden spoon. "oh, eddie you're so fine! you're so fine, you blow my mind! hey, eddie!" he takes a step forward, relishing in how munson's jaw drops to the floor. "hey, eddie!"

he does a sort of half shuffle, half dance around to eddie's other side, where he continues, jumping up and down and shaking his head back and forth with the beat, "oh, eddie you're so fine, you're so fine, you blow my mind!" he gets up in eddie's space, to where they're practically nose to nose, "hey eddie!"

"oh my god, what is happening?" eddie asks, trying his hardest to suppress a grin. steve continues to dance and sing like an idiot, abandoning the spoon on the counter to grab both eddie's hands and pull his arms back and forth in an attempt to get him dancing too.

by the start of the first verse eddie is half-heartedly bouncing along, watching steve with wide eyes and flushed cheeks. he thinks he's fucking beautiful like this- big blinding smile, full of energy- and takes a second to ponder the turns his life has taken to bring him here, in this moment. where steve harrington is singing a cheesy, upbeat love song at him, having replaced the name in it for his.

steve cups eddie's hands together and uses them as a makeshift microphone, belting out the lyrics to the chorus as eddie giggles along in the background. "-oh, eddie! what a pity, you don't understand," puts his best pouty face and places eddie's hand on his chest, over his heart. eddie's eyes widen. "you take me by the heart when you take me by the hand! oh, eddie, you're so pretty," really fucking emphasises the word pretty. because, damn. "why can't you understand? it's guys like you, eddie!" grabs him by the shoulders and rocks them both back and forth with each word. eddie's hand drops from his chest to circle around his waist, seemingly out of instinct, and fuck, he liked that.

eddie was staring at him now, sparkly eyed and hopeful. steve clasped his hands together at the base of eddie's neck, as he sung, a little less overzealous now, "oh, what you do, eddie, do eddie," as the gap between them got less and less. steve had to work to bite down the grin on his face.

"don't break my heart, eddie." he said, barely loud enough for them to hear over the music. eddie grinned, pressing their lips together as the chorus ended.

it was objectively bad, with the way they both smiled and giggled through the whole fucking thing, but god, who cares. to them, in that exact moment, it was the best damn kiss either of them had ever had.

until, that is, when eddie pulls back (very fucking regretfully) and realises something.

"we did not just have our first kiss to 'hey, mickey!' by toni basil." he whispers, in genuine horror. steve throws his head back with such bright laughter, still pressed against him, that it almost makes it worth it.

keyword almost, because then the menace leans back in, all coy, and replies, "i'm never, ever letting you forget it."

[chronicrabbit]

Getting back to my steddie x stormpilot au.

Eddie got his scars when he crashed his x-wing into a TIE fighter to save his uncle. The plan was to catapult right before the crash, but there was malfunction, and he almost didn't make it - his clothes catching on fire.

[chronicrabbit]

Steve: Eddie is playing hard to get. Steve: Little do they know, I'm a master at playing hard to get rid of.

[chronicrabbit]

Ficlet for this lovely anon <3<3 thank you so much for reading them :)

52: Kisses that have their knees buckling under them

———

Steve has him backed into a wall at the back of the Hideout. Even has an arm bracing against it near his head for good measure.

“I take it you liked it, big boy,” Eddie’s voice carries all the bravado he’s not feeling. If Eddie had known that a single metal cover of Steve’s favorite song would’ve put him in this position, he would’ve done it ages ago.

Steve gets even closer, their chests almost brushing. Eddie feels molten under his gaze. “I did,” is all Steve says. It takes Eddie all of his self control to stay put— to not throw himself at the other man. Whatever weird game of chicken this is, he’s going to win it.

Steve brings his other hand to his face, gripping Eddie’s chin inbetween his thumb and forefinger. “You did good, baby,”

Baby.

Eddie’s head is spinning in anticipation when Steve grazes his thumb against his bottom lip and tugs on it, his half-lidded eyes tracking every movement. “Can I kiss you?”

Eddie doesn’t spare a moment before he’s nodding. He feels Steve’s arm wind around his waist pulling him closer. Eddie sends a silent apology to every pretentiously perfect movie kiss he had ever ridiculed, every girl that came into class, dazed after a make out session with the King of Hawkins High he had ever made fun of. Because the moment Steve kisses him, Eddie’s knees buckle leaving him scrambling for purchase on Steve’s shirt to keep himself upright.

He’s helpless to stop the breathy moan that punches out of him as Steve angles his head to sweep his tongue into Eddie’s mouth, fighting the urge to whine in complaint when he finally pulls away.

They just stand there holding each other, breath fogging in the cold, as the world slowly comes back into focus. Steve softly cups the side of Eddie’s face, so at odds with the filthy way he’d just been kissed by the same man.

“Where did you park?” Steve asks, lips brushing the shell of Eddie’s ear— so naturally Eddie hears none of it.

“Huh?”

“Your van, sweetheart. Where did you park it? Wanna take you home,”

“Love the enthusiasm Stevie, but shouldn’t you be taking Robbie to her house first,” Eddie chuckles.

“Fuck,”

Eddie laughs harder, reeling a little at the fact that Steve had gotten so hung up on kissing little ole Eddie Munson that he’d forgotten about his own soul sister.

“Stay right here, I’ll come back for you,” Steve promises, a picture of reluctance as he pulls away. “I mean not right here— inside cos it’s cold,”

“Okay big boy, drive safe,” Eddie’s blows him a kiss which Steve mimes catching and puts it in his breast pocket right by his heart.

———

[chronicrabbit]

Home Coming

Part 3

The third time was different.

Worse, but…

Better.

The monster had been unfathomable.

They were all horrific, but this one…

It was an amalgamation of blood, bone, and sinew; bubbling melted person.

People Steve had grown up with.

The losses had been numerous;

Heather and her family, that Russian scientist, countless Hawkin’s citizens, Billy Hargrove,

Hopper.

That one hurt the most.

Seeing the tears in Joyce’s eyes as she approached Eleven, taking her in her arms as they sobbed together cut Steve more deeply than he could explain.

He wanted to reach out, offer some words of comfort, but what could he say that would make anything better?

So he stayed where he was, sat beside Dustin as the EMT’s looked them over.

His head was throbbing as he forced his bleary eyes to scan over the paperwork that’d been thrust into his hands. Yet another NDA; third verse same as the first.

No matter how many times he blinked, rubbed at his eyes, hoped, his vision refused to clear.

“It might not”, is what the EMT had told him when he’d complained, shining her little flashlight directly into his swollen eye.

“Three major concussions in such quick succession, it’s a wonder you’ve managed to avoid more averse side effects.”

He sighed in mild frustration, giving up entirely on reading and simply scratching his signature across the dotted line.

He set the clipboard aside with a grimace, unfocused gaze searching across the packed parking lot, the emergency vehicles with their flashing lights, the government agents in their respective stuffy suits and fatigues, the burning mall not even 100 feet away; it thankfully didn’t take long before he found who he was looking for, catching sight of Robin sitting beside Erica in the back of an ambulance across the way, the two sharing a woolen orange blanket as they read over their own paperwork.

She looked overwhelmed while Erica merely looked unimpressed.

Steve fought not to chuckle at that. Laughing would only exacerbate his head trauma.

“Mr. Harrington?”

Steve tensed at those words, going stock still as two shiny black shoes stepped into his direct line of sight, expensive and out of place in the chaos of the aftermath of Starcourt.

His heart hammered in his chest.

He raised his gaze slowly, past the finely pressed lines of the suit, the stiff posture of the man beneath it, only to release the breath previously trapped in his lungs as he was met, not by the stern gaze of John Harrington, but one of the government agents patiently waiting for him to display any sign that he was listening.

It took him another moment of confusion before he realised that he was Mr. Harrington.

“Yes?” he answered, unable to hide his frown at the almost sympathetic look that had overtaken the agents poker face as he prepared to speak.

He didn’t need to. Steve knew what was coming.

He’d been through this song an dance enough for the intricate movements to become muscle memory.

“You couldn’t get ahold of my parents, right?”

The agent’s expression dropped further; never a great sign.

“No, we did,” he said with nod, the paper he held out toward Steve crinkling in the light summer wind. “Your father’s secretary asked me to pass along this message.”

Steve took it, squinting down at the neat script which read:

‘Steven,

Conference ended early. Holiday has been extended. In Norway until September 20th.

J. Harrington.’

“Oh,” was all Steve could say in response, steadfastly ignoring the look of concern he received from the agent.

It wasn’t a surprise, per say, the reaffirmation that his parents were simply too busy, too important, to care about him.

That didn’t make it hurt any less.

-

Little by little, the rest of the party was picked up; Karen Wheeler raced out of her car to pull Nancy and Mike into a crushing hug.

Claudia Henderson’s nervous tittering carried across the entire parking lot as she fretted and fussed over Dustin.

As they led them hand in hand to their car, Charles and Sue Sinclair made both Lucas and Erica swear to never ever scare them like that again.

Joyce, Will, Jonathan, Max, and Eleven left together, Max and El holding each other as they continued to cry; continued to mourn and grieve.

But they had each other.

They all had each other.

And who the hell did Steve have? Brenda, his dads secretary? Or was it Brandy now?

He could never seem to keep them straight.

Who did Steve have to take comfort in? To confide in? To cry to when the nightmares became too much?

His eyes searched the significantly emptier parking lot for only a moment before he once again found-

“Robin?”

She was still there, sitting in the back of the ambulance with her blanket around her shoulders.

He remembered her mentioning her parents were going out of town a little more than a lifetime ago, before Russians and drugs and giant flesh monsters from hell.

She was alone too.

-

The drive back to Steve’s house was silent and slow.

The pain of the last 48 hours had fully caught up with the both of them, so once they finally reached their destination, they wordlessly headed inside and up the stairs.

Robin didn’t say a word about his positively heinous decor, the total lack of personality, she simply caught the clothes Steve tossed to her and together they changed out of their filthy uniforms and climbed into bed.

Sleep, as usual, didn’t come easy, but it was easier with the steady in and out of Robin’s breathing in his ear, the dip and creak of the mattress as she rolled over and threw an arm over Steve’s side, urging him closer.

He rolled to mirror her position, hugging her in tighter until his face was buried in her shoulder.

“This is surreal,” he whispered, unwilling to break the silence completely.

“What is?” she asked just as softly, her voice little more than a rasp.

Steve shrugged as best he could with Robin weighing down his arm.

“Not being alone for this part.”

Robin didn’t need him to explain. She simply squeezed him tighter and whispered:

“Well, sorry to say, but you’re stuck with me, now. You won’t ever be alone again.”

And it was fine.

This was fine.

They were fine.

Or they would be, so long as they stayed together.

Steve allowed himself to relax, drifting off into his first dreamless sleep since ‘83.

Not alone.

Never again.

Tag list:

@idontgetpaidenoughforthisshit @plyerice27 @alienace @vi-an-te @cr0w-culture

[chronicrabbit]

Montage of Dustin teaching Steve how to play DnD to impress Eddie with Let's Hear It For The Boy playing in the background

[chronicrabbit]

Steve and Eddie are having picnic in the woods

🔪🔪🔪 в вк не репостить🔪🔪🔪