strangersteddierthings

[strangersteddierthings]

Not What I'm Wanted For

AO3 | written for @corrodedcoffinfest day 28: never been kissed | rating: t | wc: 998 | cw: drinking, brief mentions of being used for sex in the past | POV: Steve | tags: pre-steddie; steve has a secret; spin the bottle gone wrong; robin and gareth are little shits (lovingly); eddie is a sweetheart; getting together

Cheers fill the room as the narrow spout of the bottle stops, pointed squarely at Steve. Steve swallows thickly, refuses to look at the person who spun it. Instead, he fidgets with the hem of his pants where he’s sat cross-legged on the floor, his knee knocking against Robin – Robin, who’s been a sharp thorn in his side all night, matched only in her feral intensity by Gareth, who’s prodding insistently at his other side.

“Pucker up, buttercup.” Gareth laughs, makes obnoxious kissy noises as he leans against Steve.

“Knock it off, man.” Steve forces a laugh, pushes Gareth back, watches as he grins maniacally, all too similar to –

“Promise I don’t bite.” Eddie grins, cocks his head to the side as he licks his lips. “Unless you want me to, sweetheart.”

A chorus of oooohs surrounds them, breaking the last of Steve’s composure.

“I didn’t realize we were back in 9th grade.” Steve glares down at the group as he stands, their bodies formed in a spindly semi-circle around a mostly empty wine bottle. There’s a few drops just beneath the spout, a deep red seeping into the rug.  “Jesus, you couldn’t at least rinse it out first?”

Robin grabs the bottle, chugs the remaining liquid, their friends cheering her on. She releases it with a smack and a smile before thunking the bottle back down onto the stained carpet. “Happy now?”

“Not even a little bit.” 

“Steeeeve. C’mon, it’s fun!” 

Steve focuses his glare on his best friend. “Yeah. Fun. I’m gonna–” He waves his hand at the door, “--have a cigarette. Or three.”

She furrows her brow. “Wait, Steve–”

“No, Robin.” He steps through the circle, feels a hand grasp his calf, warm and strong, fingertips grazing the skin peeking out from beneath his sweatpants. He turns, looks down at the hand, traces his eyes slowly up. Up the wrist, the inked forearm, the sleeve bunched around the elbow, the broad shoulder, the pale expanse of neck, the stubble-lined chin, the soft open lips, the pinkness, the dampness, the–

“Harrington. Hey, man, you good?”

Steve blinks hard, tries to focus his eyes anywhere but those lips. Lands on eyes instead, full and warm and so, so brown. “Ye-yeah, I’m good. Chill. Fine.”

Eddie squints, those beautiful, warm brown eyes filling with concern. He opens his mouth to speak, but Steve stops him.

“Seriously, I’m fine. Gonna go smoke. Have fun.” Steve wrestles his leg away from Eddie’s burning grip, and retreats into the cool night air, only allowing himself to breathe once he feels the cool brick exterior of the pool house against his back as he slumps to the ground.

“Can I sit?’

Steve shrugs.

Eddie slides down next to him, starts fidgeting with his rings. “Hey, man, look, I’m so–”

Steve shakes his head. “Don’t.”

Eddie turns, eyebrows pinched together. “But–”

“No, Eddie. It’s fine. I told you, I’m fi–”

“Jesus, Harrington, you gotta stop with that.”

Steve blinks, slowly turns toward Eddie, pressing his cheek into the cool brick as Eddie’s heated gaze locks on him. “Excuse me?”

“Sorry. I mean, you don’t gotta do anything, but like – fuck, I mean–” Eddie groans, rubs his hand down his face. He takes a deep breath, lets it out slowly. “I’m sorry. I made you uncomfortable and that’s not okay. I crossed a boundary – no, listen, please.” Eddie holds up his hand imploringly, watches as some protest dies on Steve’s lips. “I crossed a boundary. Even if I didn’t know it existed, it’s still wrong, and I'm sorry.” Eddie lowers his hand. “You don’t have to accept it. Just want you to know, I never want to make you feel uncomfortable.”

Steve blinks, swallows down the sweet taste of Eddie’s words, feels them settle thick inside of him, warm and real. He sees the sincerity in Eddie’s gaze, the anxious fiddling of his fingers along the zipper of the jacket Eddie must’ve slipped on when he came out. Tears burn in Steve’s eyes as he realizes it’s his jacket Eddie’s wearing. 

“I– fuck, man.” Steve laughs, wipes his eyes. “Thank you, yeah – seriously, thanks. I just– the game, it–” He lets out a breath, worries his lip between his teeth. “It’s stupid, but–”

“Hey, it’s not stupid if it’s bothering you. I prom–.” 

“I’veneverbeenkissed.” 

Steve avoids Eddie’s gaze for all of three seconds before he has to see the expression there. It’s one of confusion, major confusion. 

“You’ve…never been kissed?”

Steve nods.

“But– but, you, high school, all those girls–”

Steve laughs, a hollow, weak thing. “Yeah, I know. Turns out you get a girl off once on a dare as a freshman and, next thing you know, you become king of some hollow court where people only swing by to get off. No one wants to kiss when they could get a quick and dirty orgasm and leave.” He shrugs. “It’s not what I’m wanted for.”

“Fuck that, I want to.”

Steve’s eyes widen. “What?”

“That’s not exactly how I meant to–” Eddie mutters, but smiles, anxious, soft, real. “I want to. Kiss you, that is. Hold your hand. Take you on a date, if you’d let me.”

Steve swallows down a lump in his throat, whispers out, “Don’t lie to me, Eds.”

“I’m not. I promise.” Eddie reaches out, tentatively grabs Steve’s shaking hand. “All those girls – they’re idiots, frankly, for not wanting to kiss you or keep you around. And, uh–” He clears his throat. “I’d really love the chance to try to give you even an ounce of what you deserve.”

Steve lets out a shaky breath. “You’re…serious?”

“Most serious I’ve been about anything since moving in with Wayne.”

Steve pauses, looks at this beautiful, kind man, thinks of how much he wants this, and decides fuck it. “Okay. You’ve got your work cut out for you, Munson."

Eddie grins, squeezes Steve’s hand. “I’m gonna woo you so hard, sweetheart. Just you wait.”

taglist (open): @sunshine-daydreams0809 @saramelaniemoon @probablyin-bed

divider credit: @saradika-graphics

thank you for reading :)

[strangersteddierthings]

Steve comes out as bi and Dustin’s like ‘perfect’ and immediately reaches out to his favorite musician. He messages Eddie Munson from Corroded Coffin on every platform he exists on like, “I see that you only date losers. Let me introduce you to Steve. Here is a picture.”

[strangersteddierthings]

Are you still taking steddie prompts? Because I'm super into Steve just like... Realising he thinks Eddie is cute and going for it, and assuming that Eddie is a) more emotionally intelligent and therefore already knew that he, Eddie, was some kind of not straight and probably already knew that Steve had a crush on him and b) is, if not hugely experienced, at least more experienced with guys than Steve is.

And none of these things are true, Eddie had maybe just started to acknowledge that yeah, maybe he does sometimes think about guys as well as girls, but he definitely, definitely hasn't done anything yet, hasn't exactly had all the experience with girls.

am i???

yeah i totally am lol

---

Life should be back to normal post Upside Down, but things have only gotten stranger in the life of one Eddie Munson.

For one, he has way more friends now. Of course, half of them are teenagers going into their Sophmore year of high school. Now that he's graduated (and also, still the town pariah despite all charges being dropped), he is trying to hang around people his own age. Or at least, more people his age.

Which brings him to Robin, Nancy, and Steve. People he never imagined himself being around, but now does so all the time.

They watch movies and smoke and talk about what to do when the next apocalypse comes rolling into Hawkins. It's the most fun a nightmare has ever been.

Eddie would've been perfectly happy with their odd little foursome, just the way it is, but Harrington seemingly had other plans. Sometimes, he'd catch Steve staring at him, as if he had something to say. And at first, Eddie was sure that Steve would move on. Shake hands and Eddie would become some old war buddy that lived only in Steve's stories, but.

He kept staring.

Then there were touches. A hand clapping on his arm, Steve's shoulder nudging his, getting some invisible bullshit out of Eddie's hair.

Almost like Steve is flirting with him?

The very idea of that happening drives him insane.

First off, Eddie doesn't have the greatest track record when it comes to dating. Or, to be more frank, he has no track record at all.

The closest he thinks he came was with Chrissy, and that's just not something he wants to think about. But at least that wasn't as confusing as things were with Steve.

Like, you know. Steve is a boy. A man. A man boy. Boy man?

Things are difficult for him enough as it is, Eddie didn't think he'd have to deal with being... well, a queer.

Is he queer?

How does one tell?

He's had crushes on girls that went no where. And sure, he's find guys objectively attractive, but Eddie bets that's how everyone feels. You can platonically appreciate the way a man looks.

Right?

Then again, a traitorous, rainbow colored part of his mind whispers: it doesn't matter what gender they are. Which is a thought equal parts thrilling and terrifying.

A dilemma he can't stop thinking about until Steve will do something stupidly charming, like smile or laugh or look perturbed. The kind of Steve stuff that'll ultimately throw him back to square one.

It all comes to a head (Jesus fucking Christ) on a quiet summer night. Steve and Eddie are sitting side by side with their legs in Steve's pool. It's hot as hell, the beers are cool, and the crickets are singing. Eddie thinks he could live in this moment forever.

He turns to tell Steve how awesome it is to be alive, but would it kill him to play some fucking music?? when Steve interrupts that thought with a kiss.

Oh, I'm definitely queer, he thinks.

Steve's lips are soft, because of course they are, he smells amazing because of course he does, and his kisses are breathtaking because it literally wouldn't make sense otherwise.

Is Eddie good at kissing?

Shit, what should he do with his hands? Can he run his fingers through Steve's hair? No, he's so particular about his hair. Unless he likes that kind of thing?

Before he can decide what to do, Steve is pulling away, looking adorably apprehensive. "Uh... are you not into this?"

"What?" Eddie squeaks. He clears his throat. "I mean what? I'm. Pff, I'm super into this. Couldn't you tell?" When Steve continues pulling that quizzical shit, Eddie continues, "Dude, quick reminder, you kissed me."

"Yeah, cause I thought you were, you know," Steve waves his hands about in the air wildly. "Like uh, like into dudes!"

Eddie opens his mouth and waits for something funny or insightful to come out. The longer he takes, the more shell shocked Steve looks.

"Oh, my god," He says. "Oh my god. Oh, my god." Steve stands up, splashing Eddie as he does so. "I was so sure! There, there were rumors! And you! You flirted with me! You don't even know what personal space is!"

"Whoa, dude, hey," Eddie scrambles upright and places his hands on his shoulders. "First of all, there are loads of rumors about me. I can guess which ones you're talking about, but you'll have to be way more specific in the future. Secondly," he can't hold back a smile. There's a funny feeling in his stomach-- these must be the butterflies everyone talks about so much. It's not entirely unpleasant. "Pretty sure you've been flirting with me."

Steve purses his lips, tilts his head to the side, and nods somewhat reluctantly. "Yeah. Thought it was like, in a response. An answer to. You."

"So, if I were actively flirting with you, you woulda flirted back?"

"Obviously! Jesus."

"Good," He says. And the response seems to surprise them both. "Look, big shock, but this is new to me, Steve. All of it."

"All of it?"

Eddie shrugs. "As in that was my..." He frees Steve's shoulder to count on one hand. "One... two... Second kiss?"

Admitting his sad truth is worth it to see the dopey look on Steve's face. "Second?! As in second ever?"

"First one was on a dare. And I wasn't even the one given the dare, so yeah." He laughs and presses his hand to Steve's shoulder once more. Then, purely on impulse, he brings Steve in closer, wrapping his arms around Steve's neck. "So, how 'bout it Harrington?" Shit, he hopes he sounds more confident than he feels, because his heart is pounding away in his chest. "Wanna be my third? Fourth? Maybe fifth?"

Steve snorts. "And you wonder why I thought you were flirting with me." He leans in.

"I think that was just you being presumptuous." Eddie leans in as well.

"Nah, I don't think so." Steve closes the gap.

And the third time, as they say, is the charm.

[strangersteddierthings]

For the prompts! Drunk - and if we wanna get specific I love the idea of someone wanting to make a move while they’re drunk but the other person is like very consent informed obvi and is like no but the drunk person takes it as rejection so the sober person comforts them / clarifies they’re into it just not then. But you can do any type of drunk scenario! Or maybe anxious? honestly anywhere inspiration strikes with this message, even if it seems left field 🙏🏼🫡

Hello! It occurred to me as I was reading this just now that nowhere in your ask did you specify a ship, and that I just... kinda filled in Steddie. I hope that's okay??

3. Drunk - Eddie/Steve

cw: alcohol use, dubcon (Steve is drunk; he also tries to continue kissing Eddie even after Eddie says no, but it does not progress past that point)

-

It feels like some kind of daydream when Steve pushes Eddie down onto the couch and straddles his lap. Eddie’s definitely imagined it enough times – how Steve would feel over him, or under him, how warm and pliant he would be, how soft his mouth would be, yielding under Eddie’s. He’d never imagined the sharp taste of liquor on Steve’s tongue, though, and that’s enough to wake him up.

His role as designated driver is to get Steve home safe, to get him into bed where he can sleep the night off; it definitely doesn’t include this.

He puts a hand to Steve’s chest, gently pushing him back.

“Hey, Steve, you’ve gotta stop,” Eddie says, regretful as Steve’s lips leave his.

“Why?” Steve asks, leaning in to kiss across Eddie’s cheek and down to the curve of his jaw. “You want this.”

What Eddie wants doesn’t matter, he reminds himself. Not right now. “You’re drunk, Steve,” he says, again pushing back against Steve’s chest.

“’m not that drunk,” Steve insists, as if Eddie hadn’t been the one to chivy his wobbly ass out of the car and into his house just minutes ago. He cranes his neck until his lips are brushing Eddie’s ear. “You want this. You want me.”

And Eddie does want Steve. It feels like all he does is want Steve. It feels like his heart vacates his chest and runs to wait at Steve’s feet like a loyal dog anytime he’s nearby. Eddie wants.

But not like this. Not when this isn’t something Steve would do sober.

Steve rolls his hips down against Eddie’s, and Eddie can’t help the noise that escapes him – he’s only human, and Steve feels so fucking good. But then he gets a firm grip on Steve’s hips, stilling him in his lap.

“Steve,” Eddie says, low and warning.

“S’okay,” Steve insists, brushing a few kisses up Eddie’s neck. He continues his mumbling in Eddie’s ear, “promise. You want me, you can have me. You don’t have to love me back. S’okay.”

Eddie’s heart skips a beat. Skips several, maybe. “What?”

“You can have me,” Steve says again, pressing an off-center kiss to Eddie’s temple for emphasis.

“No, what did you– Steve, look at me,” Eddie says, reaching up to take Steve by the shoulders, pushing at him gently. Steve whines and tries to burrow further into Eddie’s neck. “Fuck, sweetheart, just look at me.”

Maybe it’s the pet name, maybe it’s the firmness of Eddie’s voice, but Steve slowly leans back until he can meet Eddie’s eyes. His gaze is glassy, a little hazy, but he’s about as focused as Eddie’s going to get him.

“You think I wouldn’t love you?” Eddie asks.

Steve blinks, tongue darting out to wet his lips. “You– you don’t have to. I can be okay with just this. With whatever you want, just– You want me,” he says quietly. “…don’t you?”

The question is soft, heart-breakingly uncertain, small and pleading in a way Steve should never have to be.

“Steve,” Eddie reaches up to cup Steve’s face in his hands, “how could I not love you back?”

Steve gives a little shrug, glancing away, even as he leans into Eddie’s touch.

“No, baby, listen: it’s fucking crazy how much I love you, okay? It’s – I want to write songs about you. I want to be wherever you are all the time. I want to see you every day and I want to stay awake all night because I don’t want to waste a single minute sleeping when it could be spent with you,” Eddie says, brushing his thumbs across Steve’s flushed cheeks. “I love you so much that I’m going to get you a glass of water and put you to bed so I can tell you all of this all over again when you’re sober, okay?”

For a moment, Steve just stares at him, lips parted like he’s in awe. “You love me,” he whispers.

Eddie can’t help but laugh, just a little thing, fond and quiet. “Yeah, sweetheart.”

“And you’re– you’re gonna stay?” Steve asks, still a little small.

“I’m gonna stay,” Eddie promises.

Slowly, Steve nods. “Okay.”

He’s cooperative after that, if a little floppy. Eddie gets him into pajamas and into bed, and even gets most of a glass of water into him before he looks ready to pass out.

“Hey,” Steve says, hand shooting out to grab Eddie by the wrist just as Eddie is making to leave the bedroom. “I love you, too.”

Eddie smiles, leaning in to press a kiss to Steve’s forehead. “I know,” he says. “You can tell me that in the morning, too.”

[strangersteddierthings]

The nurse pulls the stethoscope away from the bend of Steve's elbow, the sound of the blood pressure cuff being pulled away is harsh in the quiet room, “right, lets give those wounds a check.”

Steve has the routine down now, and he pulls the hospital gown away from the appropriate places, lies back, sits up, pulls the sheet, lifts a leg, the nurse humming appreciatively each time. Just one bandage to remove and replace with clean now.

“Okay, so, eat a good meal this evening, and breakfast tomorrow, and after a bowel movement I think you’ll be fine to go home.”

Next to Steve, Eddie snorts, “bowel movement. Better order prunes for Breakfast Stevie.”

“Thank you,” Steve tells the nurse, and she leaves with a nod.

Eddie has his filthy boots on the bed, but they never leave a mark on the sheets, so Steve ignores them.

“That’s sweet of her,” Steve says absently, no energy to fight it after climbing up into Hop’s truck.

“So Joyce and Nancy are already at your place,” Hopper tells him, “you’ll have groceries and some meals ready. I think El’s there too, she wanted to make sure your bedroom was clean.”

“Hope you don’t got anything suspicious hidden away,” Eddie shoves a dirt encrusted hand between the seats, into Steve’s peripheral vision, nails caked with filth and blood, the end of one finger is just bone, the flesh eaten away by something. Steve tries not to gag. Eddie makes a vulgar gesture, wanking the empty air, “don’t want her innocent young eyes finding your supply of dirty mags right?”

The cuff of Eddie’s jacket has a string of something flesh like and rotten hanging from it.

Steve spends the rest of the journey looking out of the window.

“Steve, honey, are you okay?”

Steve shuffles through the house, finding only Joyce in the kitchen, “yeah. All good.”

“Right, well, let me show you what I’ve done okay,” and Joyce shows him, the neatly prepared meals still cooling on the side. All very sensible, palatable, starch and protein and vegetable. Everything neatly labelled.

Eddie’s speaking in the background, Steve does his best to ignore it, “bet she’s filth in the sack you know. Nice of her to get you the good stuff though,” and Eddie pulls a milk shake out of the fridge.

Eddie drinks, and Steve watches as it leaks through the holes in Eddie’s guts, soaks his filthy jeans, and drips onto the kitchen floor, Joyce talking all the while.

Steve flinches. He can’t help it. The bang is loud.

“Hey Dingus, you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine,” but it’s made a lie when he twitches again.

“Steve...maybe you came back to work too soon? Do you want to go home? You look really tired.”

Home is worse. Home is so much worse, because at home he’s alone with Eddie, “nah, I want to try and stay.”

“Okay, well, sit then,” Steve does, flinching again as another launched tape hits the windows, Eddie cackling madly.

Steve stares at the ceiling in the dark. Eddie is hopping around and singing. Loudly. Something Steve doesn’t know.

Steve’s so tired he feels like his eyes are sinking into his head. His body is weighed down by it. He feels a little delirious, like he was when he was on the good meds at the hospital, but the evil twin of that feeling.

He wonders vaguely if you you can die of exhaustion. It really feels like you can. He’s broken, he knows it, can sense it creeping up. He’s so close to just...crumbling in on himself. He does something he hasn’t done for weeks, spurned by a final act of desperation, “Eddie,” Steve’s voice cracks, and he can feel that his eyes are wet, tears tracking their way along his temples, “Eddie please stop. Stop, just for a little while.”

Eddie stops moving, listening to Steve, “are you going to stop ignoring me?”

Steve feels like he’s making a deal with the devil, swallowing thickly. By acknowledging Eddie he’s admitting that Eddie’s there.

This is the end of Steve’s sanity.

“Okay.”

“You screamed like a little girl when you first saw me,” Eddie says absently.

“Yeah,” Steve admits. Admitting it is easy, it’s true. It’s speaking at all that he’s reluctant about.

“Don’t seem bothered now though,” Eddie moves when Steve does. Steve’s done pissing now, stripping to get in the shower. The toilet lid drops with a sharp thud and Eddie sits on it. Eddie hasn’t been out of Steve’s eye line since he came to in the hospital; he’s had no choice but to get over being viewed naked.

Eddie has provided Steve with an unwanted but highly detailed commentary on his own body.

Apparently Eddie finds him attractive. A subject he has gone into in vile detail.

“No,” Steve passed out from exhaustion the moment Eddie allowed him some peace last night, and if this is the game he has to play to get some sleep tonight, then he will.

Steve showers, “so you’re actually not dating that Buckly girl then. I really thought you were. Didn’t clock that she was a raging dyke.”

Steve closes his eyes under the hot water, letting it batter him. It covers the sound of his deep sigh, “I’m fair game. You don’t say anything derogatory about anyone else or the deals off.”

“Okay. Okay that’s fair. I mean...I’m not that kind of guy anyway, I swear I just...you’re the only one who could hear me. And you were ignoring me. I was trying to get a rise out of you...trying to get you to...react I guess. Even for a second.”

Steve sighs, “stop trying to guilt trip me. I’m talking to you, aren’t I?”

“Yeah but...I don’t want you thinking I’m like, a bad guy-”

“Whatever. That’s exactly what someone in my head would say.”

“What? You don’t think I’m real?”

Steve scoffs, finally pulling the shower curtain back and climbing out to dry himself. Up until now Steve’s had to endure Eddie’s lecherous and very obvious oggling. This time, Eddie looks away. Steve's glad.

“I’m the only one who can see you, of course you’re not real. I’ve just...been hit in the head one too many times. Or...it’s trauma, or something.”

“Can you put a movie on for me? Honestly you’ve got no idea how fucking boring this is.”

“Sure,” and Steve does, and he ends up just sitting and watching it with Eddie. Steve reflexively tuts when Eddie’s boots land on the coffee table, but Eddie just grins at him.

“You’re looking better,” Robin tells him absently.

“Yeah, yeah I feel a lot better,” which is true. Steve’s had two whole nights full of sleep. Eddie is propping up the counter, flicking through leaflets for upcoming releases and two for one rental coupons.

“Come here Dingus, I was worried,” Eddie watches as they hug. They hug for a long time, “you’d tell me, right? If something was going on?”

“Sure, of course,” Steve answers reflexively. Easily.

Eddie looks up long enough to roll his eyes at Steve, “why don’t you tell her?”

Steve doesn’t answer. Eddie glares for a second but then shrugs it off when Dustin and Mike come through the doors, looking for free rentals and staff discounted snacks.

Steve can’t help but stare at Eddie, who in turn is staring, wide eyed and fascinated. He tries to touch Dustin’s shoulder, but as usual, his hand goes straight though. He looks, briefly, heartbroken.

The pain echos in Steve's own chest.

Once Steve had started ignoring Eddie, since, you know, he’s not real, Eddie had gone through a four day period of trying to punch Steve in the face. Half way through day three, Steve even managed to stop flinching.

Eddie’s already in the passenger seat, “why don’t you tell them about me?” he asks again.

Steve finds a tape, digs out some Abba, takes great pleasure in Eddie’s clear disgust. “Because you’re not real. I’m going to get myself locked up somewhere.”

“Steve,” Eddie huffs, “I’m pretty sure I’m real man. I feel real.”

“That's exactly what-”

“Oh fuck off Harrington. Why you then? Why is this happening to you?”

Steve sits in the quiet left behind by Abba. The car making quiet noises as it settles and cools. Steve stares through the glass at his own front door.

“I think I’m being punished.”

Steve moves around the kitchen, making effort to cook himself something that’s actually protein and vegetables and not just canned food and melted cheese in slightly different arrangements.

“That’s sad, you know, that you think you’re being punished. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Steve shrugs, “you’re dead.”

“Not your fault. I made my own choices.”

Steve shrugs again, “it’s not like I’m doing this on purpose.”

Eddie snorts, “you think your subconscious is punishing you with me? That’s...a hundred kinds of shitty. Also, I’m kind of offended.”

And Eddie really does look offended. Steve laughs. Really laughs. And then he’s laughing desperately because the laugh knocked the pieces loose and he feels like he’s cracking open with all of the everything that’s happened. And then he’s crying, leaning against the kitchen counter, sobbing.

Eddie’s hard to see through the snot and tears, but he’s there, hand hovering uselessly in the air, looking so, so, concerned about Steve. Steve wipes the tears away eventually. His chest feels tight, but also lighter, and he spends a minute relearning how to breathe, Eddie talking him gently through it all the while.

Everything looks a little better, after. Even Eddie’s face isn’t as dirty as Steve thinks he’s made it out to be.

Steve’s lying on the couch. Eddie’s lying on the floor.

“Yeah, I don’t know. I don’t really have one.”

“How can you not have a favorite color? Come on Harrington, Everyone has a favorite color.”

“What’s yours?”

“Like...I guess like a teal? Like a really specific green kind of blue?”

Steve hums, turning to look, “I would not have guessed that for you.”

Eddie shrugs, staring at the ceiling, “how about red? You seem like a primary colors kind of guy.”

“Are you like...calling me simple, some how?”

Eddie laughs, a short shocked braying noise, “am I insulting you though the medium of favorite color choice?” Eddie gestures vaguely, rings catching the afternoon sun, Steve noticing the shine on them for the first time.

“Feels like it,” Steve grumbles, but he’s smiling, lying back on the couch.

“I’m bored,” Eddie gets bored when Steve’s doing housework. He’s become a constant distraction away from the things Steve really should be doing, but still. This is how the laundry ends up not being folded, and they end up going for a drive to no where that results in a sunny walk along the bank of lovers lake.

“Nearly fucking shit myself jumping in that lake. Was bad enough watching fucking Patrick die.”

“Yeah that must have...must have been bad.”

Eddie skims a rock across the water, “maybe you’re right,” he says, almost absently.

“What about?” Steve finds a rock for himself, but it only skims one time before disappearing below the surface. Eddie grins at him, quick, before he goes back to finding another stone.

“Me being...a curse. I was there for Chrissy. And then Patrick-”

“Hey. Hey, no. No I don’t...I don’t think that, any more. And Patrick and Chrissy, that was awful, but it was Vecna, you just...wrong place wrong time man, don’t beat yourself up.”

Eddie sighs through his nose, “okay.”

They stand, watching the sunshine make the water all sparkly. Far off in the distance, Steve can hear some kids playing. The fun kind of shrieking and hollering.

“Nothing to be scared of now though, right?” Eddie asks.

“Nah, I don’t-”

Steve doesn’t even get to finish what he’s about to say, Eddie hollering and whooping, gravel crunching under his boots as he sprints the few yards to the waters edge. “It’s fucking freezing,” he screeches when he’s in up to his hips, but he doesn’t stop, arms splashing as he still tries to walk even the waters too deep for it.

Steve absently thinks that the water's going to fuck up the leather of his jacket.

Steve doesn’t really know what possesses him, but he chases Eddie in anyway.

Steve’s sneakers squelch horribly as he slumps up the beach, but he still doesn’t regret it. The elated look on Eddie’s face when they'd splashed each other. The joy.

Steve hadn’t played like that since he was a kid.

He can hear Eddie following him, and they flop down on the grass, side by side, an inch between them.

Steve squints at the sun, watching as Eddie holds his hands up to the warmth, bands of light shining though his fingers. They look better. As in, they’re all present and correct.

When they turn to look at each other, Eddie’s face is clean.

They both lean in at the same time, and Eddie’s mouth is warm from the sun and chilled by the water.

[strangersteddierthings]

Written for @corrodedcoffinfest

Prompt 11: Scream | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: T | CW: mental health issues | POV: Eddie | Relationships: Steddie, Gareth & Eddie, Gareth & Steve | Angst, post S4, Eddie has trauma, Steve and Gareth are begrudging roomies, selective mutism, anxiety, hopeful ending

The gulls are loud today, swooping and circling the water, piercing calls that travel on the wind and make him feel hunted. Steve tells him he’s safe here, it’s bright, quiet apart from the lapping of the water and the shrieking above him. It’s peaceful, good for him, so they keep saying, and private. He’s never alone, though.

Steve sits on the hood of his car, watching but not. Eddie is here to reset, be in the moment, and a lot of other bullshit his therapist, Steve and Wayne keep talking about. At least the therapist is gone now; he stopped seeing her months ago. 

When he woke in the hospital, after Vecna and the bats, after gruesome deaths and running for his life, he couldn’t speak. Wouldn’t, said the doctors, there was nothing wrong with him, just a coward with a steadfast refusal to talk to the police. Eddie couldn’t explain to them the way his words sat trapped in his throat, coiled like snakes, wrapping and writhing around each other. His words fought and tripped him, until he was so exhausted by it he stopped. If the words wouldn’t come out when he needed them he’d stop trying at all. He hasn’t spoken since.

That was five years ago.

A lot has happened in that five years.

Eddie left Hawkins as fast as he could. Steve followed.

Two years later Gareth turned up on his front door and shouted at him for five minutes before Eddie wrapped him in a crushing hug. Now it’s the three of them and their cat living in their little apartment in the city.

A cool breeze feathers across the back of his neck, and he buries his toes deeper into the sand. He can feel the prickle of shell and pebbles against his skin; before they leave today he’ll wander the beach to check for sea glass. Steve will help, they usually come back with a few nice pieces. He has a box full of them now, keeps meaning to do something with them, make a necklace or something. 

Maybe one day.

Behind him he hears raised voices, so he turns to look. Gareth has returned to the car, a can of something in his hand and evidently nothing for Steve and Eddie. Gareth doesn’t usually come here with them, thinks it stupid, not helping, maybe making things worse. It’s his way, to be loud, stubborn and opiniated, probably more so in the last few years. He’s filling the gaps Eddie left behind. 

Gareth DMs for their new group of friends, people who have no expectations of Eddie because they didn’t know him before he was left as hollow as the shells under his feet. There’s no Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson here, just Eddie the weird guy that doesn’t talk. He can live with that. He has to live with that.

The car doors slam shut but the voices are still loud enough for him to hear snatches of his name. Loud enough for him to know he’s being talked about. Gareth and Steve are a weird pair. Steve tolerates Gareth for Eddie’s benefit, and Gareth promises not to be a dick to Steve, and mostly it works and no one questions their odd little trio. They do it for him but so much of him wishes they wouldn’t; he wants Gareth to go and live his life, to have travelled with Jeff and Matty. The things he could be doing if he would just leave, but instead he stayed behind for Eddie. It eats at Eddie, claws at the blocked words in his throat, begging to come out. Notes on paper telling Gareth to leave don’t cut it.

The truth is Eddie thinks he’d crumble to ash if Gareth left them.

Steve is… Steve is everything.

When Eddie wanted nothing more than to blink out of existence Steve had grabbed him by the hand and kept him there beside him. It was nothing at first, innocent touches, fingers brushing fingers until they were brushing cheeks, until lips were touching lips. Steve enveloping him from the world and pulling him closer, until they were all but one. Lying together in a boneless haze, sheets puddled at their feet, thinking I love him, I love him. Even if he couldn’t say it.

The voices are louder, angrier than usual, arguing about Steve bringing him out here all the time to do this. Eddie grew up in a house filled to the rafters with angry words, this isn’t that. This is from love. Gareth wants him to see a doctor and Steve wants to keep him whole. Neither is right, neither is wrong.

But it’s been brewing for weeks, months probably, their weird little home is a passive aggressive battle ground and he’s leaving for work earlier in the morning and working back later. Other people’s anger lodges in his throat choking his own and he doesn’t have the energy for both.

He stands and steps along the wet sand, the chill water lapping over his feet. He watches the way the water ripples and distorts his skin, the lines of light and shadow playing across his feet and legs. He closes his eyes and fills his lungs to the brim with salty sea air.

And he screams.

The gulls scream back, and Eddie takes another deep breath and screams back twice as loud. He feels it all shift inside him, a tower of bricks ready to tumble if you just take the right brick away. He just needs to find the right brick.

He doesn’t hear them calling his name until they’re right there, Steve’s Nike sneakers splashing in the water as he turns Eddie to face him.

“Eddie? What’s…?”

He feels the brick tumble deep inside him.

“Stop.”

It’s whisper quiet, maybe he imagined it, maybe he didn’t say anything at all. But Gareth gasps behind him and Steve’s eyes are wide, lashes already wet and Eddie knows. 

The tower is falling.

@the-unforgivenn

[strangersteddierthings]

Written for @corrodedcoffinfest.

storm's a-coming

Prompt #27 - Bring It On | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: T | CW: Language | POV: Goodie (Freak) | Pairing: None | Tags: Goodie Turns 16 on November 7, 1983, It's a Biggest Thing Happening In Hawkins That Day, Isn't It?, Friendship, Missing Plot Featuring The Corroded Coffin Boys set during "The Vanishing of Will Byers"

He holds the paperwork and scans over all the information he's filled out. He's not sure they'll actually accept it, bureaucratic bullshit and all that, but he's gotta try. 

What's the worst they can do? Say no?

If they do, they do. He can't get what he wants if he just rolls over and assumes the answer is no. So, Goodie confidently passes the paperwork to the bored looking DMV worker, and waits. She types. He waits longer. He's ready to put up a fight if he has to, plead his case. Bring it on. 

He watches her run it through the laminator, smells the heat hitting plastic.

Then, she slides his brand new license across the desk.

He picks it up.

Goodie Charles Goodwin.

She fucking did it, and didn't even question it. Hot damn.

He's Goodie Goodwin. His license says so.

"Everything look correct?" she asks.

He nods his head, "Absolutely."

He's totally legal for the first time, when he gets behind the wheel of his pickup. He'd saved for two summers to buy something, and when he saw the ad for this one, it seemed like fate. 

He's ten minutes late, but Jeff's the only one at their usual table. Ten minutes late is ten minutes early for Eddie.

"Happy birthday! Did you get it?" Jeff asks.

"Hell yeah, look at this," Goodie says, passing it across the table to Jeff. Goodie's more proud of the fact that he got Goodie on his license than he is of being legal to drive. It feels like a bigger win. The license itself is just a right of passage. Getting Goodie instead of Charles was the challenge.

"What are we looking at?" Eddie asks, sliding into his usual chair, the one in the back corner. He likes to be able to see the whole place. Goodie's pretty sure that must be something that rubbed off from Eddie's old man, a residual paranoia that he's gonna be caught, trapped.

Eddie snags it, studies it carefully, "Big balls you got there, Goods."

Goodie grins, it was really easy. Easier than he expected. He knows it's not exactly legal, but that's the name he goes by, and having identification that says so just seems smart.

"There's Gare," Eddie says, and they all turn, watching him lean his bike against the building.

Once inside, Gareth slides into the open chair next to Goodie, picking up the license, "Hey! That's cool. You gonna pick me up for school every morning?" 

"Absolutely not," Goodie says, snatching it back, "You got your bike. Or the bus goes right by your house."

Jeff shakes his head, trying to stop Goodie from poking at him, "We'll pick you up. It's right on the way."

Goodie just laughs. He was never not gonna pick Gareth up, and Gareth knows that. 

"C'mon, let's order. I'm starving," Eddie says.

They stay for hours, planning their next campaign, their plans to get a slot at The Hideout. Everybody else gone, nobody's left to complain when Eddie commandeers the jukebox, picking out loud shit that usually gets dirty looks. Benny doesn't care. He's always been cool with them.

"Does Benny have a kid we don't know about?" Gareth asks, and they all look towards the kitchen. There's a kid in a too big shirt sitting on the counter.

"Not that I'm aware of," Jeff says, and yeah, he has ex-wives, but no kids. 

"Weird," Goodie says, finishing the ice cream that Benny gave him for his birthday, for free.

And when Benny comes around a few minutes later, taking their burger baskets and dirty plates, they know that means get out in the nicest way possible. It's closing time.

"Are we gonna make the rounds, now that you're all legal and shit?" Gareth asks, and Goodie nods, sure. Anything to get to drive some more.

They can't all fit in the cab, so Eddie and Gareth load up Gareth's bike, and hop in the bed. 

Goodie pulls to the end of the parking lot, and waits for the oncoming traffic to pass, but it's an official looking car, turning in. Goodie tenses, hoping if it's a cop that they won't give him any grief for Eddie and Gareth being in the back.

Nothing happens.

It passes, and Goodie pulls out.

Pulling up the hill, Goodie sees lights at the same time Jeff speaks.

"What's that?" Jeff asks.

Goodie's eyes follow the little pricks of light. 

"Bikes," Jeff decides, and Goodie presses on the brakes a little too hard. Eddie and Gareth both cuss him through the back window.

Three boys whiz by on their bicycles.

"Stay out of the road!" Eddie yells after them. 

One kid turns back, bike wobbling, as he mouths off, "Watch where you're going in that piece of shit! Assholes!" 

Goodie's about to throw it in reverse, when Jeff stops him, "They're just kids." 

Eddie's laughing when he sticks his head in the window, "The mouth on that kid."

Turning on Maple, they see Steve Harrington struggling to climb onto Nancy Wheeler's roof. Goodie honks, and they laugh as Harrington startles, slipping in his loafers, grasping for shingles.

After they've seen everything there is to see in Hawkins on a Monday night, they're back in Benny's parking lot. Thunder is ramping up, a storm brewing over Hawkins.

The diner is dark, and Goodie idles next to Eddie's van. They'd dropped Gareth off at home, and Eddie hops out. Goodie waits until the van fires up, just in case he needs a jump. He doesn't. It starts up with a blast of music, and Goodie follows the van out.

Eddie goes right, and they go left, a crack of lightning illuminating the sky as the first drops of rain hit the windshield. He turns the wipers on, and the squeak and drag sounds fill the cab.

Jeff pulls his elbow inside the truck, cranking the window, "Storm's a-coming."

It is.

Goodie laughs, "Bring it on. The pickup needs washed anyway."

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

Notes: I just loved the idea that the Corroded Coffin guys were out there doing their own thing while everything in Hawkins shifted around them, starting our canon story.

Eddie unknowingly having an early run-in with Dustin "It's His Tone, Right?" Henderson.

And poor Benny.

I distinctly remember getting licenses same-day before those temporary papers were a thing. Was this a thing in Indiana in 1986? I couldn't find that info to be 100% sure. But, here's one from 1988, and it totally looks like a laminated inhouse card. So I went with it. I hope you will too, haha.

Could he have gotten away with putting Goodie on it? I think it's at least plausible. Busy Philipps told that she had Busy on her DL in the 90s instead of her legal given first name. (That's the trivia in my brain that inspired this fic, lol.)

[strangersteddierthings]

Match maker

@steddiebingo | Splash into summer event prompt: match maker| 1,183 words | gen

-

“I just don’t understand why I can’t get a second date,” Steve whines to Robin as he wipes down the counter, “I’m a great guy!”

Robin sighs as she puts away clean glasses, “You aren’t the problem, Steve; it’s the people you’re picking.”

He scoffs, “I pick great partners!”

“The girl you went on a date with yesterday arrived 30 minutes late and complained about her problems the whole time,” Robin reminds him.

“That was one time!”

“Oh yeah?” she challenges him, “the guy you went on a date with last week showed you pictures of his ex-wife! And then compared you to her!” She crosses her arms, “Face it, Steve, you suck at picking dates. At this rate, you’ll never find someone stable enough to date.”

He sighs as he leans against the counter, “So what do I do now? Accept dying alone?”

Robin rolls her eyes,” You aren’t dying alone because I’m going to pick your next date.”

“Robin, no, absolutely not! This isn’t some kind of matchmaking show!”

“It is now,” Steve just huffs and lets it go. She’ll probably forget soon since the bar is about to open.

-

As the night went on, Steve got 4 numbers from 3 girls and a guy, but every time he tried to pocket the paper with the number on it, Robin snatched it and threw it away.

“They aren’t the one for you,” she would tell him as she tossed another number.

And he would just let her. There was no point in arguing with Robin when she thinks her idea will work.

So he allowed her to have her fun with saying no to every person he flirted with. It wasn’t like he was actually going to find someone tonight.

Plus, he’d be lying if he said Robin’s attempt at finding him a match wasn’t entertaining.

Steve was washing a cup after another failed flirting attempt, and a ‘She wasn’t the one anyways’ from Robin, when a man with curly hair sat down at the stool in front of him.

“Gin and Coke,” the guy says without even looking up from his phone. Steve hates these customers. It doesn’t kill someone to at least say hi.

The guy looks up for a moment when he realizes Steve didn’t move to get his drink, “Please? Are you deaf?” he says like the dick he is.

Steve makes his drink silently, setting it in front of the dude, “Are you starting a tab?” he asks, trying his hardest to keep the attitude out of his tone because he’s already been warned multiple times about his habit of arguing with customers.

The guy stares at him for a weird amount of time before sliding his card towards him, “I’ll start a tab.” Steve just nods and takes the card to the register.

“He’s the one,” Robin says, startling him, “I can sense it.”

“Jesus robs, you scared me,” he says while writing something down on the notepad next to the register, “and he’s definitely not the one.”

“Yes, he is! I can already see him as my brother-in-law.”

He turns to look at her,” brother-in-law? Aren’t you getting a little ahead of yourself?”

“Nope! Go ask for his number.”

“No way,” he says, walking towards another guest who just sat down, so he doesn’t have to deal with Robin’s matchmaking anymore.

As the night goes on, he convinces Robin to serve the guy so she can ‘make sure he’s the one’ and it actually works. But the guy is completely different when he talks to Robin.

He looks up from his phone and engages in a conversation with her. Steve glares at him when no one is looking because, of course, the guy is one of those people who treats the female bar tenders better.

At least Robin will come to her senses and ‘pick’ someone else for him.

That’s what he thought was going to happen, but after the guy closes his tabs and leaves, Robin basically sprints to him, “he’s perfect for you!” she exclaims like there still aren’t customers around.

“Robin, not right now,” he says while glancing at the girl waiting for her drink. “Let’s talk later,” he says, hoping that by the time it’s later, she will have forgotten about the guy.

Robin apologizes to the lady before going to serve another customer, but she doesn’t leave before saying that he’s not getting out of that conversation, which he sighs at before resuming the lady’s drink.

He’s praying Robin would let go of the idea that some random guy is his ‘soulmate’.

-

His prayers weren’t answered. During the whole time they were doing their closing duties, Robin would not shut up about the guy and what she learned about him.

“Robin, you sound crazy,” he says while sweeping the floor, “you can’t really expect me to go out and find this dude because you sensed that we were made for each other.”

Robin just smiles at him, “Who said anything about going to find him?”

“What does that mean?”

He watches as Robin ignores his question and goes to clock out, “Bye Steve! See you tomorrow!” and then she speeds out the doors, and Steve is just left standing there, wondering what the hell she meant.

-

He finds out the next day when he walks into work and sees the guy wearing the same work uniform he was wearing.

“Steve! I need you to train the new guy,” Robin tells him with a mischievous grin, “this is Eddie, Eddie, this is Steve, he’ll be training you. I’ll be back in a moment.” he glares at her as she walks away.

“Let me show you how to do things,” he says with fake kindness in his tone.

He can’t refuse to train the guy because he’s already on thin ice with the manager; he can’t afford to lose this job, so he trains him. He may make a few snarky comments, but who can blame him?

“We keep track of tabs with this notepad right here, " he glances at Eddie just to see the guy is staring off into space, “hello? Are you listening to me? Are you deaf or something?” he says because to be honest, Steve has always been a bitch.

He was a lot nicer now, but he can’t help but go back to his old ways when he’s irritated.

Eddie grimaces, “Yeah, I’m paying attention. I’m sorry about that, by the way.” The confusion must be clear on his face because Eddie continues, “about what I said the other day? I was stressed, but I should’ve been kinder.”

Steve was shocked,” Oh. It’s okay, we all have bad days,” he shrugged like he hadn’t been purposely being a dick just because of what Eddie said last night.

“Let me make it up to you? With a date?” he asks, and Steve wants to say no just to spite Robin, but Eddie looked sincere, and Steve would be lying if he said the guy wasn’t insanely attractive.

“I’m hard to please,” he teases.

“I’m willing to try.”

-

Done!

[strangersteddierthings]

Bat Guy

written for the @steddiesongfics flash challenge

song inspo: Fluff by Black Sabbath | wc: 666 | tags: brief mention of death and grief, older Steddie, the upside down happened but they all got out alive, established relationship, reminiscing about the past, husbands in love | also on ao3

   "Ozzy is dead."

Decades ago, Steve would've needed more than those few words to know why his husband's face suddenly falls, eyes shining with unshed tears. But after 39 years together, he understands Eddie even without words.

   "I'm so sorry, baby. "

He might not quite get the emotional whiplash Eddie seems to be experiencing right now, but he's been with him long enough to know where it's coming from.

That's another legend gone. One that formed generations of musicians such as Eddie. One of the greatest of his time and beyond.

And it hits him, too. Because Steve might not be the most devoted fan in the history of Black Sabbath's existence, but Ozzy Osbourne is a name that brings back memories. Some of them he wishes would stay buried forever. But one in particular makes his heart ache in all the best ways.

The memory of shoulders brushing and getting lost in deep, dark eyes. Of tentative smiles and warmth in his chest. Of kindness and confessions in a rare and short moment of peace.

It's where it all started; the moment he realised he was totally and utterly gone for the man he would marry one day.

Steve walks over to where Eddie is sitting at their kitchen table, phone in hand, eyes locked on the screen where the news pay tribute to the late Prince of Darkness.

He wraps his arms around Eddie's shoulders form behind and presses a kiss to the top of his hair. It's shorter now, and mostly grey, but his waves are still thick and so much softer than they had been all those years ago, thanks to Steve's continuous care.

Steve remembers the first time he got his hands into the unruly mob, back when Eddie was too weak to take care of himself, still healing from the fight that had almost taken everything from them. Remembers the broken body, curled up in the bath tub, both arms slung tight around his knees. Empty eyes staring holes into the tiled wall while Steve gently worked his fingers through tangled curls.

They've been through so much. All those sleepless night, all the pain, all the months spent fighting to get back on their feet - literally, in Eddie's case.

The memory still makes the scars on his soul itch, even after all this time. But in the end, it's what brought them together. And for that alone, he'd do it all over again if he had to.

   "Can you play me the song?" Steve asks, causing Eddie to turn and look up at him, still with sadness in his eyes but half a smile on his lips.

   "Now?"

   "Now is perfect, don't you think?"

Eddie groans when he gets up, the old bones not as agile as they used to be (although he refuses to accept that), and Steve follows him to the studio in the basement, where Eddie grabs his precious guitar and pats the empty space beside him on the sofa in the corner.

The melody fills the room, and it immediately takes Steve back to the day Eddie had picked up his guitar for the first time after… everything. Frustrated at himself because his fingers refused to work like they'd used to, ready to just give up.

But Steve wouldn't let him.

   "Remember what I said to you?" he asks, a big grin on his lips.

   "How could I forget! You said, 'Try something slower. Like that song I like, from the bat guy's band'. I never wanted to strangle and kiss someone so bad at the same time."

   "I'm glad you chose the latter," Steve laughs before bringing their lips together.

And just like that day 39 ago, when they were young and broken but so full of hope for a better future, his heart overflows with all the love he has for this man.

Grateful for the life they got to live and continue to cherish until they reach the end of it.

[strangersteddierthings]

Speak to Us, Spirits!

Written for the @steddiemicrofic July prompt, “sign” | WC: 507 | Rating: G | Tags: Wingman Steve, Goofing Around, Pranks | ao3

“If there are any spirits here with us now, please speak through me. I am your vessel!”

Steve is glad everybody else has their eyes closed, because he can’t help rolling his. The so-called “medium” Robin hired to find out if their apartment building is really haunted (a venture itself designed to impress the hot blonde who lives across from them and swears she hears knocking every night) has yet to impress him with his crystal ball that looks suspiciously like a department store paperweight.

Along with their neighbor, some of Steve and Robin’s friends are here, because the guy requested a crowd. “The bigger the better,” he’d said, and Robin subsequently invited everyone they know.

They weren’t all on board; Nancy, Mike, and Dustin all thought the scheme was far too ludicrous, and the Byers-Hopper clan are out of town. Max and Lucas agreed to come, but as soon as they arrived, it was obvious they showed up to quietly laugh at the whole thing—not that Steve blames them at all. And then there’s Eddie, who brought the band and cheekily offered up his lighter “for candle purposes.”

In the end, there are a total of eight skeptics, one believer, and one charlatan who’s high on his own supply crowded around the coffee table. They’re holding hands while a CD plays weird ambient noises in the background. It’s this guy’s idea of a seance, apparently.

“Speak to us, spirits. Give us a sign that you are here!”

There’s a short bang across the room. Everyone’s eyes shoot open and look toward the noise, but there’s no discernible source at first glance.

Maybe I should’ve given him some credit, Steve thinks. Though he’s still not convinced there’s a ghost, causing that kind of ruckus with a magic trick right on cue is crafty.

“What was that?” Lucas says, quick and breathy. Max shoots him a look that says, Really? That scared you?

“Don’t worry, friends,” the medium assures them. “The spirits will not harm us if we hold to the circle. Now communication is open—let’s resume.”

As everyone’s eyes close again, the hand on Steve’s left—Eddie’s—squeezes briefly. It prompts Steve to look over and see his face covered in mischief. Steve gives him a questioning look, but all he gets in return is a wink before Eddie closes his eyes, too.

Steve looks in the direction of the sound from before, and he notices something he didn’t the first time: a single high-top sneaker, white, sitting next to the baseboard. Above it, there’s a small scuff mark, like something struck the wall.

When he looks back in Eddie’s direction, he and Jeff both look like they’re desperate to hold in laughter. The rogue shoe’s mate is sitting behind Eddie, right where he left it when he took them off.

Steve grins and squeezes Eddie’s hand back, waits for an eye to crack open before glancing at the cup of pens on the shelf above them. Eddie smirks.

They really are the best wingmen Robin could hope for.

[strangersteddierthings]

Written for @steddiemicrofic.

took a wrong turn, and just kept going

July Prompt: Sign | Word Count: 507 | Rating: T | CW: Memory Loss | POV: Steve | Tags: Future Fic, Post S4, Eddie Munson Lives, Unexplained Disappearance, Chance Meeting, Reuniting, Steve Harrington Is Still Bad At Flirting

"It's you."

Steve comes to a halt on the sidewalk, still buzzed from the club. He blinks. That's definitely Eddie standing under the streetlamp, smoking a cigarette. 

It's been years. Over a decade. A dozen years with no trace of Eddie, Steve certain he'd been snatched by the Feds under the cover of night.

Squirrelled away into witness protection, on the good days. 

Buried in a shallow grave, on the bad ones. 

Nothing else made sense. 

Unless he ran. From Steve, from Hawkins. From everyone, including Wayne. 

He'd never. 

That night, those last moments, Steve has played on a loop. Waking on the couch alone, pausing at the door, seeing Eddie on the porch, smoking his last cigarette of the night. 

He'd tapped on the glass, pointing towards bed.

Eddie had held up his hand. Palm towards Steve. The universal sign for five minutes. 

Steve went to bed, and Eddie? He just went.

"It's me?" Eddie asks, sounding amused, but clearly not recognizing Steve. Whatever happened, it snatched his Eddie away. But a new one? He's right here. 

Steve can work with that. 

He flashes a smile, pushing his hair up off his forehead, tilting his head, looking up at Eddie. Blinking slowly, giving him his shyest smile. Using his best moves. 

"Yeah, you," Steve flirts, hand finding Eddie's bicep, squeezing, "just the man I've been looking for." 

Eddie laughs, eyes twinkling, and Steve has missed this, missed him, desperately. 

"Is that so?" Eddie asks, playing along, flirting back. 

"All my life," Steve says. 

Eddie clearly checks him out, looking him up and down, lingering on his chest hair, then shakes his head, "Does that line ever work? You're pretty. But I'm not interested."

Steve swallows, jerking his hand from Eddie's arm. 

He's gonna throw up. 

He got Eddie Munson to fall in love with him once, and he thought he could do it again. Easy. 

1 for 2, Popeye, Robin says in his head.

Eddie looks smug, and Steve's face falls, eyes filling with tears against his will.

He can't cry. He wants to be able to see Eddie for a few more seconds, if that's all he's ever gonna get. Steve wants to grab him, shake him, make him feel their connection. Their love.

At least Eddie's alive.

Steve squeezes his nose, trying to stave it off. Buy himself some composure.

He sniffles.

Eddie looks concerned as he takes a step closer, instead of moving further away.

"Hey. If you need help, money. Here. Let me," Eddie says, "But you don't have to hustle me, man."

Steve blinks, tears escaping his lashes, rolling down his cheeks. What? Does Eddie? Does he think? He can't. 

Steve's hands settle on his hips, pissed off. 

"I'm not hustling, you dickhead!"

Eddie stills, wide-eyed. 

"Shit. Sorry. You were, what? Actually hitting on me?" 

Steve bobbles his head, bitchy.

"Like, obviously."

Eddie laughs, "Well, that's embarrassing. No offense, you're way outta my league, sweetheart."

Steve smiles, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand, "Trust me. I'm really not."

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

Notes: Title from Springsteen's Hungry Heart. And I'm not sure what on earth Steve was wearing to give Eddie this idea, because I didn't have the spare words to figure it out, lol, but I like to imagine it was really something. 😏

[strangersteddierthings]

Written for @corrodedcoffinfest.

a ghost who lives and breathes

Prompt #25 - Poltergeist | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: T | CW: Language, Ghost!Steve | POV: Eddie | Pairing: Steddie | Tags: AU, Fluff, Corroded Coffin Moves to Hawkins, Gareth's New House Has a Ghost, And It Has Taken a Shine to Eddie, And Only Eddie

"Don't call me, I'll call you," Eddie says, walking through Gareth's new kitchen. He's spent two days moving the kid into this new place, and he's done. 

"Funny."

Eddie just gets his hand on the doorknob, when a crash startles them. A picture they'd hung has shattered all over the tile.

"Fuck," Gareth says.

"Broom's in that closet!" Eddie shouts, scurrying out the door.

The next morning, Gareth's standing on his stoop, worked into a tizzy.

"My new house is haunted! You have to help me. Right now."

"Your house isn't haunted. I was just there. You've got a pool, but no ghosts."

"You saw that picture fall."

"That was Goodie's shoddy stud finding work."

"Please. Come see if you don't believe me. It harassed me all night, Eddie. Turning on the TV, stomping on the stairs. And it bit me! It bites!" Gareth yells, and Eddie wants to ignore him, but knows how this is gonna go. If he doesn't go look at this non-existent ghost, he's never gonna get anything else done today.

The kid has never lived alone before and just has an overactive imagination.

When they pull into the driveway, Jeff and Goodie are sitting outside on the steps. Well, that isn't a good sign.

As soon as they step out of the car, Jeff stands, "It's really fucking mad."

"Did you poke at it?!" Gareth screams, and Jeff shakes his head.

"I didn't," Jeff says, and Gareth is glaring daggers at Goodie.

"I told it I was gonna burn its house down. It really didn't like that," Goodie explains. "I knew this fancy house was too cheap."

Peeking through the door, Eddie can see the kitchen cabinets banging open and closed. 

"Jesus Christ! Your house is haunted!" 

"Told you so," Gareth says, glumly. 

"Is it a poltergeist? Is it in your TV?" Eddie asks, and Gareth barks that he doesn't fucking know. He should really be nicer if he wants help with his haunting.

"Wait here," Eddie says.

"Not a fucking problem," Gareth snaps, taking a big step back from the door. None of them jump at the chance to join Eddie inside. Cowards.

Eddie walks into the kitchen, and another cabinet door slams shut. Then, creaks open again.

Rinse. Repeat. Over and over and over.

"Uh, hey," Eddie says, "I get you're mad about something Goodie said. Which, understandable. I feel you. But, uh, can you maybe stop that banging for a sec?"

The cabinets still. Some half open, some half closed, but none moving any longer.

"Awesome. That's a neat party trick you've got."

One of the stools at the bar slides out, fast, hard, coming to an abrupt stop. A clear invitation.

Eddie tentatively sits. 

And then throws his hands out to brace for impact as he's shot back towards the countertop, but he's stopped short.

He laughs. "Wild ride, there. So," Eddie says, looking around, as if he might be able to see this ghost if he just looks harder, "What do you need?"

The canister of flour slams over on the counter, a cloud of dust filling the room as the flour settles onto the countertop.

Then, it's as if a finger is dragging through it, spelling out:

Y-O-U.

Eddie looks down at it, then back up at nothing, "Me? I don't live here," Eddie says.

The cabinets start banging again.

"Well, don't throw a fit," Eddie says, mussing up the spilled flour, asking, "Who are you?"

The cabinets stop.

S-T-E-V-E.

"Steve," Eddie says, smoothing out the flour again, "Are you gonna kill me?"

N-O.

Well, that's good.

"Gareth just moved in. He'll be cool if you're cool," Eddie says, and he doesn't know how he ended up negotiating with a ghost.

Cabinets. Banging.

Eddie sighs, "You don't want Gareth to live here?"

The cabinets bang louder, faster. 

"But I could live here?" Eddie asks. The banging immediately stops.

Y-E-S.

Eddie runs his hand over his face, "Okay. Listen. I'll stay. For a few days. Until you get used to Gareth."

All the cabinets slam shut at once.

"Was this your house?"

Y-E-S.

"Did you die here?"

N-O.

Eddie knows lore. It must be tied to something important. What? He has no idea.

"You wanna be set free?"

The cabinets all slam again.

Eddie laughs, "Message received."

The lights flare brighter, just for a second. Eddie should probably be terrified. He's not.

So, he leans into it, playing along.

"I heard you bite, by the way. Well, joke's on you, Casper. I like that sort of thing."

Later

Steam billows around the bathroom as Eddie steps out of the shower, wrapping a towel around his waist. A basketball immediately rolls towards him, and he nudges it back to Steve. 

Don't play ball in the house. Unless you've got a playful, perverted ghost that watches you shower.

Scrawled words are waiting on the fogged up mirror. Eddie grins. 

He has a ghost in his house. His, because Gareth never switched back.

Eddie's fond of Steve.

They communicate in lots of ways. Steve's clearly strong, and Eddie hears him dribbling the basketball through the house. Then, the TV in the living room pops on. It's playing the Starcourt Mall commercial. Eddie's sick of it. That place burned down years ago, and he doesn't know why Steve's so obsess—

Holy shit.

"Did you die in the mall fire?!" Eddie yells. Sometimes Eddie smells phantom burning.

The ball dribbles back towards him. Then, a squeaking drag across the other half of the foggy mirror.

A-H-O-Y.

Eddie darts into the living room, just in time for the food court part of the commercial.

Scoops Ahoy.

Steve.

Eddie laughs, delighted. Now he knows what Steve looks like, "Look at you in your sailor suit. Are you wearing it now? For eternity?"

All the lightbulbs in the room burst at once.

"Easy," Eddie laughs. But there he is. Steve. It says so on his nametag. "Well, Steve. It's nice to finally put a face to a ghost."

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

Notes: The Harringtons selling their house that Steve still haunts hurts my feelings. Finding new and creative ways to neglect him. And maybe it's even worse if they didn't even realize he was there. Just wait until Robin and Dustin and Erica find out he's still around. Eddie's gonna have company.

The commercial Steve's driving Eddie crazy with is this one from the show promo, lol.

Title from the song Ghost by Eastmountainsouth that is not this fic's vibe, at all, but it was just stuck in my head. 🤣

[strangersteddierthings]

oh,they’re lovesick— three years is far too long.

[strangersteddierthings]

eddie munson i never turned on u 💋x

[strangersteddierthings]

get a load of this guy!

eddie vers

[strangersteddierthings]

@stcreators event 01 ✦ favorite (in/sp)

@lgbtqcreators battleship bingo ✦ blorbo(s)

[strangersteddierthings]

written for the @steddiebingo Splash of Summer mini event and The round two main card.

Prompts: One One Bed & Scream | rated: T| word count: 1503 | Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington & Robin Buckley & Eddie Munson | Additional tags: Only One Bed, Third Wheeling, Robin is suffering

Read on AO3

Eddie walked into the room and froze.

They had planned the trip a little late, and after calling three hotels, this one luckily had a free room. Just one. Eddie would have been bitchy about it if he was traveling with anyone else. He had spent way too many holidays sharing rooms with his cousins in Tennessee, and now that he was a grown ass man, with government money and a stable job (Eddie still couldn’t believe that one) he had decided to live the rich life and never share his room again on vacation. Except maybe with Wayne, because he was Wayne and Eddie owned him his life and sanity a thousand times over.

And apparently he was fine sharing with his current entourage.

So all things considered he couldn’t be bitchy about it.

Except for one tiny fact Eddie hadn’t taken into account. Or rather a king-size fact.

The room didn’t have twin beds. No.

There was only one bed.

A big one, but it still was a single bed, sitting all by his lonesome in the middle of the room. Alone. Because there wasn’t another bed for Eddie to retreat to. They would have to sleep in the same bed.

He stood there, not daring to take another step. 

He was going to share a bed with Steve. Steve Harrington. Stevie. His high school crush turned apocalypse ally turned best friend. Spend the night beside him, watch his lovely face go slack with sleep, the frown too often seen on his brow finally easing. Feel his breathing even out as he lay beside Eddie, like it was a common occurrence. Like it was a normal night and they were falling asleep in their bed, in their home, after a long day spent together. 

Did Steve own pajamas or did he sleep in boxers like Eddie? Was he about to spend a good eight hours next to an almost naked Steve? 

Jesus H Christ, he couldn’t believe he was about to sleep with Steve.

“I’m taking the right side!”

Robin pushed past Eddie and jumped onto the bed. She bounced and nearly fell off, before rolling back to the middle of it and spreading her arms and legs like a starfish.

“Oh, that bed is soft! I think it’s even better than yours, Dingus!”

And Robin. Right. He was about to sleep with Steve AND Robin.

… Yikes. Wrong choice of words. 

He was about to spend a whole night sharing a bed with his crush and his crush’s platonic soulmate, who was also the most judgmental lesbian in Indiana. Great. What could go wrong.

“I’ll sleep in the middle,” Steve said from behind him. “Eds? Can you move, please?”

Eddie’s feet finally unstuck from the floor and he walked inside. He started looking around, trying desperately to ignore the elephant in the room.

He heard Robin stood up with an exaggerated groan. “I’m gonna take a shower, be right back.”

She slammed the door, making them all jump.

“Oops! The window was open!” Robin screamed through the bathroom door.

Steve snorted.

Then, when Eddie was so sure he had evaded everyone’s attention…

“Are you alright, Eds? You’re looking a bit pale.”

Eddie turned back toward Steve and gestured to the ceiling. “It’s just this shitty lighting, I’m fine.”

Steve looked up. Eddie followed his gaze. 

Yeah, the light fixture was way classier than in any motel room Eddie has slept in. There went his dumb excuse for looking like he had been clocked on the back of his head.

“I’m tired? I got chewed by bats like, yesterday.” Five months ago, but who was counting.

“Right.” Steve looked rather unconvinced.

They stayed like that for a few minutes, listening to the sound of the shower until it cut off.

“You know if sharing the room with us is a problem, we could always try to call other hotels in the area, maybe one of them has two rooms?”

Eddie heard the bathroom’s door open and jumped on the occasion. This was a question he’d rather not answer.

“My turn in the shower! You snooze you loose, Harrington.”

He nearly bowled Robin over as she exited the bathroom and closed the door behind him.

He was safe. Only for a few minutes, but he was alone, far from the siren call of Steve’s… Of Steve’s everything, really. 

He took off his clothes and jumped under the spray, yelping when the water hit him. A cold shower would help him rearrange his brain a little bit. There was a very judgmental lesbian in the other room, who was very much ready to give him the Stare of Judgment if he started salivating too visibly once Steve’s shirt would be off. She wasn’t as oblivious as her best friend, sadly.

He stayed there a few minutes, breathing. He could do it. He could do it, it was just one night, eight to ten hours. There was no need to panic. He could do it. 

He finally left the bathroom, clad only in a cheap towel. He had totally forgotten to bring a change of underwear when he had run in, and he wasn’t desperate enough to wear his dirty underwear after a shower. 

Not that he had never done it, but he was a new man.

When he opened the door, Steve was here.

“Hi.”

Eddie yelped and rushed into the bedroom as Steve closed the door.

Robin screamed.

“My eyes!” She rolled, face down on the bed, hiding against a pillow.

“I’m wearing a towel, Buckley.”

“You’re practically naked! It’s indecent! It’s horrible!”

“Don’t worry, my lady, I shall remove this unsightly sight from your vision!” He dropped the towel and started putting his clean underwear on.

“Oh, that’s greAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH! My eyes!” 

Eddie squealed and jumped in the flannel pants he had brought for the trip.

“Why did you turn over!” he screamed.

“I thought you were done! I wanted to be polite and talk to you without hiding my face! I didn’t think you were fully naked!”

“You let me only five seconds to put on clothes!”

“You could have turned over at least!”

“You would have seen my ass!”

“What ass?”

Eddie opened and closed his mouth a few times. She was mean! 

Not wrong, but still really mean.

He barely heard Robin’s next sentence, half-muffled by her pillow.

“It’s bigger than Steve’s.”

Eddie stared at her for a whole minute, speechless. Finally, he walked toward the bed and let himself faceplant on it.

“Robin…”

“mmmmvvvrrrr.”

Eddie wiggled on the bed until he could look at Robin’s face, half smashed as it was against her pillow. “Birdiiiiiie. Honorable lady Buckley. How and when did you see Steve’s dick?”

She turned her head toward him, a pathetic look on her face. “Not enough boundaries, Eddie. I wanted to brush my teeth, and I forgot peeing was different for girls and boys, and now I’ve seen his dick. Well, now, I have seen two dicks, which is two more than I ever wanted to see.”

“Are you traumatized by these horrible sights?”

“Very.”

Silence fell.

“Is mine really bigger?”

“What’s bigger than what?” 

Robin and Eddie jumped at the sound of Steve’s voice.

“Nothing!” they both screamed.

Eddie’s eyes, the traitors, traveled down Steve’s glorious, hairy chest until they reached his boxer-clad crotch. Was Robin right? Steve could be a grower rather than a shower…

“What are you looking at, Teddy?” Steve’s voice was full of mirth.

Eddie squealed. Again. “Nothing!”

“Why am I rooming with exhibitionists…” Robin complained.

“You love us. Move over, Robbie, I’m sleeping in the middle.” Steve crawled on the bed, and pulled on the cover. “Come on, guys. I’m tired.”

Alright then. If Stevie was tired. 

Robin switched the light off, and they slipped under the cover.

“Hey, Teddy?” Steve’s voice was low, but Eddie couldn’t sleep. He had been lying there for an hour at least, but his mind was screaming Steve’s name in a loop.

“Yeah?” 

“Do you think mine is really bigger than yours?”

Eddie spluttered. “You heard us?”

“Yep. You kinda screamed your heads off, it was hard to ignore.”His lazy smirk was barely visible in the darkness. “I saw you look too…” Steve’s hand was suddenly against Eddie’s hips, gently stroking his skin. Eddie’s heart skipped a bit.

“Stevie…”

Then he was flying off the bed, tumbling on the ground. Steve screamed but manage to stay in the bed.

“Hand’s. Off. When. We. Are. In. the. Same. Bed.” Each word was followed bit a kick to Steve’s shins.

“Sorry! Ouch, sorry Robin, I won’t do that again.” Steve slipped off the bed and grabbed Eddie’s hand to help in to his feet.

“You better! Exhibitionists.”

Steve dragged Eddie in the bathroom while Robin grumbled.

Finally, they were alone. Eddie found himself stuck between the door and Steve’s chest.

“So…” he cleared his throat. “Now that we’re in a different room than Lady Buckley…” He bit his lips. “Do you wanna check?”

Steve laughed, and kissed him.