sleepyeye17 - Tumblr blog

sleepyeye17 · 9 months

Text

Sneak Peak at my Steddie Summer Camp AU

I’m working at a camp this summer, and I have to say, it’s bringing back all kinds of feelings. Here’s a little preview.

“Who’s getting DU-UUUUNKED?” Murray shouted into the megaphone, announcing it with the siren effect. The kids started shrieking.

Eddie shared a glance with Robin. Every Friday the kids voted on which staff member would have to jump off the diving board fully clothed. All the counselors pretended that getting picked was a huge pain, but the truth was that it was one of the highest honors any staff person could receive. Kids only voted for the person they loved the most. They voted for someone they saw as an authority figure, but also someone they trusted. They wouldn’t pick a staff person who was already lame, what was the fun in that? And they wouldn’t choose someone who might get angry or retaliate. They only picked the counselor they loved, and usually it was a man. This was one of Robin’s particular pet peeves, and one that she regularly vented about in the staff lounge.

Eddie looked to his Counselors In Training. They were good kids, and he’d felt like they’d really bonded with him over the first week. They were between 11 and 15, all brilliant. They pretended to hate Eddie’s guts, of course, but he knew that was the age. He mostly knew that, at least. He reminded himself of it often. Leading teenagers is a thankless task. That’s what Joyce said. She often told Eddie that he had the hardest job in the camp.

Unlike the other campers, the CITs stayed for the whole summer. They all slept in their own cabins with Eddie and Robin. Mornings were spent doing team building activities and learning about leadership, and afternoons were spent helping the other counselors work with the littles. Inevitably, all the CITs wanted to work with Steve.

“DUNK STEVE!” Dustin shouted. The other CITs cheered in response.

“DUNK STEVE! DUNK STEVE! DUNK STEVE!”

Eddie looked over at Robin, who rolled her eyes. The CITs fucking loved Steve. Beautiful, masculine, lifeguard Steve, with hair like Fabio and muscles like… well, also like Fabio.

Steve pretended to resist, but eventually gave in, throwing up his hands as the whole camp roared in response.

“He’s so cool,” Dustin said.

“He’s the coolest counselor,” Max agreed. “Definitely.”

Eddie tried to smile, but he couldn’t help the stab of jealousy in his chest. He was with the kids all day, every day. He did activities with them, put up with their mess in the cabin, crawled through the obstacle course with them, wrote them songs and cheers. And yet for some reason Steve the hair Harrington was still their fucking favorite.

#steve x eddie #steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #summer camp au #camp counselor au #stranger things #enemies to lovers #Joe Quinn #joe keery

14 notes · View notes

sleepyeye17 · 9 months

Text

Safe Space

Read on AO3 here, or below

Words: 2,415

Summary: Steve and Eddie are both triggered by fireworks on the fourth of july, and have to comfort each other.

Warnings: PTSD, panic attacks

When Eddie was a child, he’d found a black baby rabbit caught in a mousetrap. He’d taken it home and nursed it to health. It had lived a few more months, but it had always been a skittish thing, and had liked to burrow in Eddie’s blankets. Sometimes Eddie would hold it inside his jacket, and feel the rapid thumping of its heart, so fast he was worried it might have a heart attack and die. Eventually that’s what happened. The bunny’s tiny heart had gone too fast and stopped.

That was how Eddie felt now, lying on the bathroom floor, the shower running in an attempt to drown out the sounds of the fireworks. He was curled up in a pile of blankets, listening to the fireworks whistle and bang outside. He was drenched in sweat, unsure if it was because of the stifling heat of the blankets or the terror that shot through him with every explosion.

The survivors of the Battle of Starcourt were all going to the ruins, as was their tradition. Last year Max had still been in the hospital, but the other kids had gone and they’d all gotten drunk for the first time, and cried, and played music. Now they were bringing Max with them. They’d invited Eddie, but he thought it was better for it to just be the original survivors.

Wayne was at the Mayfield place, helping Missus Mayfield through another anniversary of Billy’s death. Eddie had insisted that he go, promising that he’d be fine, and that he’d probably hang out with Gareth. Then the fireworks had started, and Eddie had realized that he couldn’t go anywhere.

The lab had assigned Eddie a therapist, who’d been helping him through panic attacks. She’d helped him design his “safe space”; a little room in his mind where he could retreat from the panic. It was similar to where Max had gone to escape from Vecna, but this wasn’t rooted in memory. This was pure fantasy. Eddie had always been better with fantasy. The therapist had been a little bit confused when he’d told her his safe space was the Shire, but she’d rolled with it.

Another firework went off, shaking his windows.

In a hole in the ground, there lived a Hobbit.

Eddie inhaled, then exhaled. He wished he still smoked.

Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a Hobbit hole, and that means comfort.

His phone rang, jolting him out of his meditation.

“Jesus!” He reached for the phone by his bed with shaking hands. “Hello?”

“Have you heard from Steve?”

“What? Is that Dustin?”

“Have. You. Heard. From. Steve.”

“No. Why?”

“He was supposed to be here. We’re with Max at the ruins. Steve was supposed to join us.”

“Have you tried calling him?”

Dustin didn’t dignify that with an answer, and Eddie could feel his disdainful look through the phone.

“Fine,” Eddie said. “I’ll swing by his place.”

“ Thank you.”

“Tell Max I’m taking her to the skate park tomorrow.”

Dustin had designed a set of trick wheels for Max’s chair, and she was learning how to do some skating moves with it.

“I will. Thanks. Call me at this number when you find him, okay?”

He gave Eddie the number, and Eddie scrawled it on the inside of his arm.

Now that Eddie had a mission, he felt slightly less insane. This was always the case. When he’d first moved in with Wayne at age ten, he’d been almost catatonically depressed. But when his uncle had asked him for help with something, he’d suddenly find himself doing it. Out of bed, at the store, making dinner. When he’d started high school he’d pretended that Hellfire was his way of welcoming the losers and outcasts, rather than trying to find friends himself. Helping himself had always seemed a bit pointless. Helping others was more worthwhile.

He pulled himself out of bed, taking his blankets with him. He’d go, but he wasn’t pretending to be okay. He was no hero. He still needed his blankie, and he wasn’t ashamed of that.

Steve lived nearby now, in the apartment building that had been built where the motel had once been. Steve and Wayne lived in the old Hopper trailer near the lake. In order to get to Steve’s house, though, Eddie would need to go past the fairground where the firework display was being set. There was no way in hell Eddie could do that drive without getting in an accident. He had to go the long way, around the cemetery and the high school. It took him twice as long, but the drive calmed him slightly. Clutch. Downshift. Break.

Then the sky turned red with the glow of fireworks, and Eddie instinctively hit the gas, nearly going off the road.

“Shit!”

He braked fast and rested his head against the steering wheel.

In a hole in the ground, there lived a Hobbit.

He inched forward the rest of the way to Steve’s apartment. By the time he parked, his hands were cramped from gripping the steering wheel and his jaw was aching from clenching his teeth.

Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a Hobbit hole, and that means comfort.

He ran up to Steve’s apartment, his blankets dragging behind him like a cape. He could see that all the lights were on. He knocked on the door.

“Steve! Are you there?”

There was no answer, so he knocked louder.

“Steve, it’s Eddie! Open up!”

There was another crack of fireworks, and the sky glowed for a moment. Eddie shouldn’t have come. He should have called Joyce or Murray or anyone remotely capable of basic functioning.

It had a perfectly round door like a porthole, painted green, with a shiny yellow brass knob in the exact middle.

He pounded on the door with his fist.

“For fucks sake, just let me in before I shit myself!”

The door swung open and Eddie toppled in after it, landing solidly into Steve Harrington's chest.

“ Oonf !”

Steve’s warm hands gripped Eddie’s shoulders.

“What are you doing here?”

Steve’s voice was a hoarse croak. Eddie stepped back and looked at him. His face was red, and his eyes were swollen. His hair was plastered to his sweaty face.

“Oh my god, Steve, are you okay?”

Steve blinked at Eddie blearily. He shook his head, and Eddie was surprised to see his eyes filled with tears.

“Talk to me, big boy," Eddie said. "Are you sick?”

“No. I don’t… I don’t think so. Why are you here?”

“Dustin called. He’s worried about you.”

Another blast went off, and Steve jolted like he’d been shot.

“Let me call Dustin and tell him you’re not coming.”

“I’ll be there! I’m just— just running late.” Steve looked around frantically, like he was trying to find his bag. Eddie put a hand on Steve’s shoulder.

“Steve. We’re not going anywhere. Okay? We’re going to stay right here.”

Steve’s mouth crumpled, and he reached up to cover it with his hand.

“I’m sorry, I–”

“Alright, that’s it. Here we go.” Eddie gripped Steve by the shoulder and pulled him through the tiny apartment to the bathroom. Steve followed dazedly. “Have you eaten? Did you drink anything? Take anything?”

Steve shook his head, then nodded, then shook his head again.

“Had an ibuprofen for a headache. Had a beer. That’s all.”

“When did you last sleep?”

Steve thought about this.

“I don’t do that anymore.”

“Okay.” Eddie turned the shower on at full blast. Steve blinked up at him. “You don’t have to shower,” Eddie said, “But the noise will help. I’m going to call Dustin.”

Steve was still sitting on the bathroom floor when Eddie came back, holding a glass of water. Dustin had been understanding on the phone. They’d all had their bad spells.

Steve was curled up in a little ball, his arms wrapped tight around his legs. Eddie slid down beside him. They sat in silence and listened to the sound of the shower go. Finally Eddie took a deep breath.

“You wanna talk about it?” Eddie asked.

Steve sniffed and rubbed his nose on his arm.

“When Nancy dumped me, I said, ‘ I may be a pretty shitty boyfriend, but it turns out I’m a damn good babysitter.’ And for the past three years, that’s been sort of my mantra. At least I’m a good babysitter. That’s the one thing I’ve been able to do that’s worthwhile.”

Eddie wanted to argue this point, but he held his tongue.

“Turns out… I’m not good at this either,” Steve said.

“Not good at what?”

“I’m supposed to be the strong one. I’m supposed to take care of the kids. I should be there, helping. But instead…”

He flapped his hands helplessly at the floor, tears pouring down his cheeks.

“Oh, Stevie.” Eddie wrapped his arms around Steve’s shoulders and pulled him in. Steve slumped sideways, bonelessly. “Nobody can fix this. Nobody can.”

Steve collapsed in, folding himself against Eddie’s chest as he cried.

If someone had told Eddie two years ago that he’d be here with his arms around Steve Harrington, he’d have asked them what they were smoking. He’d wanted to touch Steve for so long. He felt drawn into Steve’s orbit like an asteroid. He had to admit that his fantasies had involved more passion and less panic attacks.

Steve cried noisily, his shoulders heaving with sobs. Eddie did the only thing he could think of. He started reciting The Hobbit.

“In a hole in the ground, there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a Hobbit hole, and that means comfort.”

Eddie recited as much as he could from memory, his hand on the warm planes of Steve’s shoulders. Slowly, Steve’s crying began to relax into gentle snuffling. Occasionally the sound of a firework outside would make them both jump, and Eddie’s voice would falter.

“The best rooms were all on the left hand side (going in), for these were the only ones to have windows, deep set round windows looking over his garden and meadows beyond, sloping down to the river.”

Steve took a deep breath, as if testing to see if his crying was truly finished. Eddie released his grip on Steve's back, allowing him to sit up. Steve yawned. His eyes were puffy from tears and sleeplessness.

“Better?” Eddie asked. Steve nodded, then shook his head.

“I should be with them.”

“No. No, you should be here.”

“The kids need me tonight.”

“Not as much as I do.” The words were out before Eddie could stop them. Shit. He could feel himself turning red. Steve stared at him through narrowed eyes.

“You know what I was doing before Dustin called?” Eddie asked. “I was on my bathroom floor, reading The Hobbit out loud to myself and trying not to absolutely lose it.”

Steve managed half a smile.

“Really?”

“Yeah. I imagine that fireworks would affect you more strongly, considering you were at the mall that night.”

Steve exhaled.

“I don’t see how the kids are so okay, and I’m such a mess.”

“Probably because they let other people help them. Unlike someone I know.”

Steve yawned again. Eddie smiled.

“It’s hard feeling useless,” Steve said.

“I know. But you’ll never be…” Eddie paused to think, choosing his words carefully. “Steve. You are invaluable .”

Steve wrinkled his nose.

“Un-valuable?”

“Invaluable. It means always valuable.”

“That’s a stupid word.”

Eddie laughed.

“It is, isn’t it.” He fidgeted with his rings. “You are useful a lot of the time. But what I’m saying is that you don’t need a use to have a value.”

“Aren’t they the same thing?”

“A vacuum cleaner has value because it's useful. A song has value because it’s a song. And I’d rather live in a world without vacuum cleaners than a world without music.”

Steve thought about this, pursing his lips. Then he yawned.

“You tired?” Eddie asked.

Steve nodded, his chin sinking onto his chest as he did.

“Can’t sleep though.”

“I know. I try to sleep, and then…” Eddie gestured vaguely to his head.

“Yeah. It’s bad.”

Eddie stretched.

“My back hurts. You think we can move to the sofa without pissing ourselves in terror?”

Steve checked his watch.

“It’s nine thirty. Worst is probably over. I’ll put on music or something.”

They exited the bathroom like survivors leaving a fallout shelter, hunched and sweaty, trailing blankets. Steve turned on his tape player, and the soft sound of Avalon started playing. Eddie rolled his eyes.

“Avalon? Really?”

“Don’t fuck with me right now,” Steve said with a wobbly smile. “You want me to start crying again? Shut up.”

They collapsed onto the sofa, Eddie sitting with his legs curled under him, Steve sprawled out across the whole thing, his head thrown back. It was disgustingly hot inside, and smelled like rotting food, but a cool breeze was filtering in through the open door.

Eddie was so aware of Steve, sitting close enough for their shoulders and thighs to be touching. Steve blinked sleepily up at the ceiling.

“What were you reading earlier?” Steve asked.

“What? Oh. The Hobbit. My mom used to read it to me whenever I was sick.”

“Do you have the whole thing memorized?”

“No, just the first part. You know that therapist I’ve been seeing? Doctor Davis?”

“Yeah. I’ve been seeing her too.”

This was news to Eddie. Steve’s words were slightly slurred from fatigue, and Eddie wondered if Steve would have divulged this if he wasn’t so tired.

“She had me create a safe space. Mine is Bilbo Baggins’s house at Bag End. From the book.”

Steve’s eyes drifted shut and he slumped over sideways, his face against Eddie’s neck.

“She had me do the same,” he murmured.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. Make a safe space. Took me a long time, but I think—“ Steve yawned and curled into Eddie’s side. “Think I’ve got one.”

“What is it?”

Steve was already asleep, but he managed to mumble out the words.

“Mm. With you.”

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #LET STEVE CRY #steve x eddie #Joe Quinn #joe keery #ptsd #panic attack #safe space #fluff #hurt/comfort #fourth of july #stranger things

21 notes · View notes