Eddie has a bad habit of picking at his skin when he's nervous. Not, like, shy nervous or stage fright nervous, but the real kind of nervous, not-sure-I’m-gonna-survive-this kind of nervous. Like while he was alone in the boat house, he'd shredded every one of his cuticles. That time Hopper caught him behind The Hawk, very obviously selling his wares, he'd bitten his lips bloody.
Tonight he's picking a scab off his knee. It's practically healed already, so it won't bleed, he just needs to feel something on his body come loose before he does.
“You good, dude?” Steve asks, so in tune to Eddie's nervous disposition. Such a good guy. What a friend.
Eddie lets his head hit his knee caps with a thunk.
“Yup.”
Steve snorts. “You don't look good. I mean… You know what I mean.”
He smiles, tilting his head to look at Steve, always happy to give him a hard time.
“Oh, absolutely. You think I look good, don't cha, Stevie?”
He gets a couch pillow to the face for that, but they're both laughing so he doesn't think he's crossed the line yet.
Yet, yet, yet.
“Seriously, what's up with you? You've been quiet. It makes me want to call the squad.”
“Har har,” Eddie mumbles, but he does uncurl himself, sitting back against the couch again. “I'm trying to work up the nerve to ask for advice but it's-” Christ, he doesn't even want to admit to being embarrassed, that's how embarrassed he is.
“It's what?” Steve asks, the picture of earnest encouragement. “You can talk to me about anything, man, we're, like, bonded in blood or whatever.”
“Right. Yeah. Except this has the potential to get real awkward, real quick, and I'm not sure we're at that level of friendship yet.”
“Well,” he drawls, “if you ask me whatever it is that's got you all flustered I'm sure that will level us up. Right?”
“I'm not flustered.” God damn his red fucking face. Steve just laughs at him. “It's just, I don't have anyone else to ask about this. Jonathan probably doesn't have this particular problem, cause he's got- Uh. Sorry.” Steve waves it away, so Eddie goes on. “The kids are too young and the band guys don't understand what we went through-”
“Eddie, just spit it out.”
“Fuck! Okay, fine! You asked for it.” He takes a giant breath, steels his spine and just says it. “The Trauma is affecting my ability to get laid and I don't know how to fix it. Every time I get close to it I freak out and have to bail.”
There. All out now.
He looks over at Steve, and it's so much worse than being laughed at or pitied. He just looks sad.
He shakes it off quickly, hair barely moving, Eddie notes. He finds Steve's hair routine both endearing and ridiculous.
“Yeah. Okay. That's super common, just so you know,” Steve assures him first. “Robin says it's all connected, your mind and your body, so trauma can, like, get trapped in weird places like that. I can't play baseball anymore. Cause the memory of beating demodogs to death.”
“As you do,” Eddie quips.
“Right. But your thing. Uh. Yeah, it took some time before I could relax enough to even attempt getting laid, let alone actually do it.”
“So?” Eddie drawls, waiting. “How did you get over it?”
Something is off. Steve's not known for being skiddish about sex, but his hesitation and his inability to look Eddie in the eye is setting off alarms.
“Hey, if this is too weird for you-”
“No, I'm good, it's fine. Just, I'm the only person you have to talk to about this, so I'm gonna try to be helpful but, uh,” he scratches at the back of his head awkwardly, “in all honesty, I haven't been laid since before Vecna either. Way before. So. Yeah. Not sure I should be giving out advice on anything.”
That's crazy. Like actually crazy. He can't even compute Steve Harrington not absolutely dripping in women. He must have some look on his face because Steve gives a dry sort of laugh, self deprecating, and leans back against the couch with him.
“Weren't you on a date with Brenda Mulligan the night- Vecna’s first attack?”
Steve shoots him a look. “Y- Yeah, but that didn't go anywhere. We weren't, like, compatible or whatever.”
Oh, yeah, it was weird that Eddie knew that at all, let alone remembered it nine months later. “That's too bad,” he replies lamely.
“Yep.”
He feels terrible for dragging down the whole night, it would've been better if he'd just kept his mouth shut. But that's never been his strong suit, as evidenced by him blurting out, “If the hottest guy in Hawkins can't find a suitable date, what fucking chance do I have.”
Steve snaps, “Don't say that. What the fuck?”
Great, now he's gone and made it weird. Good job calling your straight friend hot, you fuckin’ dipshit.
They sit in the awkward silence, out of things to say or out of useful things to say. Either way it's them breathing, the clock ticking, and the M.A.S.H. rerun playing softly in the background.
Steve clears his throat. “Whatever, let's get back to the point. You don't have to tell me if you don't want but…what do you think the specific reason is for your…issue?”
He thinks about it. Has been thinking about it, for a while now. “My dick still works, if that's what you're wondering.”
Steve chuckles, high and surprised. “Good for you.”
“Yeah. It's more like, I can't get out of my head. I start worrying about my scars, explaining them if someone asked. I think about how even though I don't want anything long-term, I wouldn't be able to do long-term anyway, because I'm a fucking mess. If it's really bad, I'll get flashes of Chrissy or Patrick's bones snapping, as a little soundtrack to the fun shit happening outside my head.”
Steve looks sad again. Maybe it is pity but it looks more turned inward, like he's dealing with his own shit more than Eddie’s.
“You hooking up with strangers then?”
Eddie blinks at Steve. “Well…duh. Right? Not like I have guys lined up around the block here in Hawkins.”
Steve is full blown scowling at the TV. It's weird.
“What if-”
Eddie waits but Steve doesn't finish his thought.
“What if…what?” He prompts, giving a little nudge with his foot.
He's still avoiding eye contact, not even turning his head to look in Eddie's direction.
In a soft voice, almost too quiet to hear, he says, “What if we helped each other out?”
He must've heard that wrong. Or he's misunderstanding.
“What?”
“What if we help each other out? Like, a mutually beneficial arrangement.”
That can't be right. No fucking way. It's a test. Like as soon as Eddie agrees, Steve yells ‘Aha! I knew you wanted to molest me! Goodbye forever!’ and runs out the door.
“What, exactly, do you mean? Like, what are you getting out of it?”
Steve finally looks over. “Well, I would think that was obvious. If you're willing.”
Eddie's legs are starting to go numb.
“Okay, so I blow you and you blow me, except when you're doing it I have to watch you take it like you're being force fed liver and onions at Grandma's house?”
Steve slowly shakes his head no.
“Oh, okay, so you're going to blow me and enjoy it,” he snaps sarcasticaly.
Steve nods once.
“You want to blow me?”
“Mmhmm,” he hums without moving a muscle.
“Since when!” Eddie brings his octave down from the upper atmosphere. “Since when, Harrington? This is insane behavior. Should I call the squad for you? I'm serious. I'll do it.”
“You don't have to say yes. I was just offering.” He says it like Eddie isn't one green flag away from stomping on the gas.
He starts nervously laughing, which makes Steve flinch unfortunately, but he can't stop.
“It's cool, just forget I said anything.” He moves like he's about to get up and leave, which is fucking insane because it's his living room. Eddie stops him with a tight grip around the bicep.
“Don't you dare. If you're even remotely serious, we have to have a much longer conversation. Sit.”
Steve drops like a sack of bricks. Which is…something.
“Right. First off, this is uncommon behavior in a straight friend. Is there something you'd like to tell me, so I don't think you've been body snatched?”
He pinches at the top of his nose, like Eddie is inconveniencing him greatly. Too bad.
“I'm probably bisexual.”
“Probably?” Eddie asks with a raised eyebrow.
“I'm an inexperienced bisexual,” he amends through clenched teeth.
“Good. Great. Happy to hear it.” His heart may explode from his torso à la Ridley Scott's Alien but sure. “Second on the agenda, what do you mean help each other out? What's on the table? Mutual handjobs and then we never talk about it again?”
“No,” Steve answers immediately. That's good. “I'm open to…whatever you're open to.”
“Steve.” He has to clear his throat. “You dont even know what you're agreeing to.”
“I trust you.”
Fuuuuuck.
“Okay, right, uh, let's circle back to that later. Third thing, what, uh, what is your level of commitment with this?”
He just stares at Eddie, all doe eyed. It shouldn't work, Eddie fucking invented that look. It's gotten him out of more scrapes than he can count. Now it's being used against him but to what end? Does Steve want to get bundled up in a blanket and tucked into bed? Because Eddie can make that happen for him.
“Whatever you want, I guess,” he finally says. “I mean, like I said earlier, friends who help each other out. Casual. I'm not interested in looking for Mrs Harrington anymore and you're having a problem relaxing around guys who don't understand what you went through.” He makes a gesture like ‘Ta da.’
He's not wrong. It makes sense. But…
“Fourth thing. Is this just an experiment for you? Cause I'm all for you exploring your sexuality but, historically speaking, friends are a bad place to start.” AKA ‘it will break my fucking heart if you decide you're not that into it and it's because it's me.’
“Eddie. Look.” He gets more comfortable, facing Eddie straight on finally. “What you're going to provide is practical knowledge on what has only been theoretical up to this point, but the theory has already been well established.” He taps his head. “Understand?”
A smug confidence melts Eddie into the couch. “You liiike me,” he sings. “You think about me naaaked. You wanna-”
Steve lands on him, lacking any elegance or grace, and nearly caves their skulls in with his Jay Garrick approach to kissing. Eddie doesn't say a fucking word. He does wonder at the fucking majesty that is making out sober. What a revelation. Steve keeps making these tiny, almost wounded noises, to the point where Eddie tries to back up and do a check in but Steve doesn't let him, he chases him down and latches back onto Eddie's bottom lip like he's Hannibal Lector. It's stupid hot.
Everything is going great until Steve lets out a sound that legitimately has Eddie worried he's upset about something.
He pulls back and asks, “Are you okay?”
“Oh fuck, I'm sorry. I just can't, I can't believe I got this fucking far. You're so hot I'm losing my fucking mind.”
“Me?” Eddie snaps. “Dude, you're out of your mind.” He pokes Steve in his meaty chest. “Literal. Prom. King.”
“Fucking stupid high school shit, are you kidding me?” He sits up, straddling Eddie's hips, which is boner enhancing to say the least; he's got Steve's thighs in his grasp immediately. “You don't get it, I'm gone on you. I've got it bad, man. I was playing it cool earlier-”
“At no point tonight were you in any way playing it cool.”
“-but, fuck it, guess I'm ruining it, cause I can't be cool about this. I don't want casual. I don't even want to date you,” and before Eddie can even worry about that, he says, “I wanna skip straight to boyfriends, man. I know you said you didn't want long term with anyone but-”
Eddie interrupts again, this time by pulling Steve back down horizontal and kissing him like he just bravely declared himself as all in.
If this is a pod-person, well, that's a problem for Tomorrow Eddie. Tonight Eddie just landed Steve Harrington as a boyfriend.
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How Steve Harrington Gets a Family
The first time it happened, Steve didn’t remember. He had no idea why Hopper was acting so weird until Joyce took him aside, sighing softly.
“Oh, honey,” she murmurs. “You don’t remember, do you?”
He frowns at her. “Remember what?”
“You called him dad, Steve.”
“I-” he gapes. “What?”
It goes like this.
He’d been hospitalized, after the Russians; he doesn’t know all the details, won’t for years, but Hopper had escaped from the reactor, thrown his weight—and title—around until someone had put Steve in a room, in a bed, gotten an IV into him, run whatever tests doctors run.
He was delirious with the truth serum still in his system and the adrenaline wearing off, groaning in pain and mumbling nonsense.
Hopper had put a hand on his head, said, “I’ve got you, Steve. You’re safe. It’s okay.”
“Dad,” Steve had mumbled, shifting into Hopper’s hand, and promptly passed out.
“Oh,” Steve whispers after Joyce tells him. He runs a hand through his hair. “Well, no shit he’s been acting weird, I mean why would he want me as a kid- shit, I need to apologize-”
“Whoa,” Joyce says seriously, hands on his shoulders. “Slow down, Steve. You know Hopper loves you, right?”
Steve bites his lip on the snark that wants to come out, instead choosing to just blink at her.
“Christ,” Joyce laments, “I’m going back to school, everyone need so much damn therapy.” She takes a breath and looks Steve in the eye. “Hopper loves you, Steve. He’s considered you his kid for a long time now.”
Steve gapes at her. “No he hasn’t!”
Joyce raises a brow. “Uh-huh. And how many parties has he busted, exactly? And how many marks do you have on your record?”
Steve snaps his mouth shut. “Oh, shit,” he whispers, looking up at Joyce. “He- he does? Really?”
“Really,” Joyce confirms, pulling him into a hug.
“Oh,” he mumbles, before letting himself enjoy the hug.
Later, when he’s about to head home, he stops in front of Hopper, glancing nervously over to Joyce, who nods encouragingly. “Can I, uh. Talk to you? For a second?”
Hopper narrows his eyes. “What’s wrong?”
Steve’s eyes widen. “No, nothing! Just-” he sighs, runs a hand through his hair, gestures Hopper out the door and around the side of the house. “So, Joyce and I were talking, right? And I was wondering why you’d been acting weird around me, and I didn’t even remember what I said in the hospital, so Joyce told me, and- and I don’t expect anything from you! At all! And it- how I feel doesn’t have to change anything-”
“Christ,” Hopper says, but he’s smiling. “I think you’re worse at emotions than I am.”
“Well I’ve never had to tell anyone I think of them as more of a father figure than my own father before!” Steve blurts out, then freezes.
Hopper bursts out laughing. “Jesus, kid, do you think before you talk?”
Steve’s not hurt. Really. “Sorry,” he mumbles, looking anywhere but at Hopper. “I’ll leave.”
A hand on his wrist stops him. “C’mere, kid,” Hopper says, pulling him into a hug.
Steve stiffens. “What?”
“Boy, you’ve been my kid since the third time I didn’t write you up for one of those damn parties,” he grouses.
Steve relaxes into the hug. “So. If I, uh. Were to, maybe, call you dad again…”
“Just see what I’ll do if you don’t,” Hopper says gruffly, and it’s really not that funny but Steve’s just so relieved that he cracks up anyways.
They pull apart after a minute, and Steve has a giddy grin on his face as he backs up. “Bye, Dad,” he says, before turning and running to his car. Hopper’s laughter follows him.
He’s been close to Dustin for a while now, but still refuses to call his mom Claudia. The most he’ll do is Mrs. H, even though every time she sees him, she tries to get him to call her by her first name.
He can’t do it. He can’t make himself. Maybe it’s the manners instilled in him, maybe he’s just awkward as fuck, who knows. But he chickens out every time.
That’s why, when she answers the door, he smiles. “Hey, Mrs. H.”
“Steve,” she greets him warmly. “Come in, come in. Call me Claudia. Oh, what is this? I told you you don’t have to bring anything!”
“Just some cookies,” he promises her, putting them down where she directs and falling into the hug she gives him.
“Dear,” she asks him later, when they’re sitting at the table with Dustin, “call me Claudia, please?”
Steve can’t look at her; passes the butter Dustin’s silently asking for. “Sorry, Mrs. H.”
“Jesus,” Dustin groans, buttering his roll. “If you can’t even say her name then at least call her mom.”
Steve’s cheeks are on fire. “That’s not exactly up to me, Dust,” he grits out.
“Oh, dear,” Claudia sighs. “I would love for you to call me mom.”
“Then we’d be brothers,” Dustin adds, “which we basically are anyways.”
Steve snorts. “I don’t think that’s exactly how it works,” he tells Dustin, but takes a breath and smiles at Claudia. “Thanks, Mom,” he says quietly. Claudia beams back at him.
“I don’t give a damn!” Claudia yells at the hospital receptionist, who really just looks exceedingly bored.
Steve knows the look of someone who’s grabbing their pepper spray. “Mom?” He calls, wet and wobbly, and Claudia spins around, running to his side.
“Oh, Stevie,” she murmurs, gently cupping his hands. “Oh, goodness, your face- have you gotten looked at? Has someone come to see you? Where’s Dustin?”
Steve opens his mouth to answer and promptly bursts into tears. “He’s f-fine,” he manages. “Ankle. Getting- getting helped. But- Mom-”
She hushes him, pulling him down into a seat next to her. “Let it out, Steve, there you go. Mom’s here, I’ve got you.”
He finally composes himself enough to pull back and look at her. “It’s not good, Mom,” he whispers. “I tried, I really did, and I know CPR but he was losing so much blood-”
“Steve,” she stops him, “I thought you said Dustin was fine?”
“He is, it’s just his ankle, but Eddie, Mom… he’s back there, they’re doing surgery, but he- I felt-” he grabs at his own chest, and somehow Claudia knows what he means. “Oh, dear,” she murmurs, pulling him into another hug. “I’m so proud of you,” she whispers into his ear. “You did what you could, you kept him stable until the doctors could do their job, and now it’s their turn, okay? Let them take care of it. They’re gonna do everything they can.”
His eyes well up again. “He didn’t kill anyone, Mom.”
“Oh, I know that, sweetie. It’s okay. I never thought he did.”
“But they do!” He sniffs, wipes at his face. “And what- what if-”
She pulls his attention back to her with a hand on his face. “Did I tell you about the time a known serial killer came in?” She whispers. He shakes his head. “He’d been in an… altercation, with the police. Shots had been fired. We all knew who he was, but when he flatlined on the table, we got his heart beating again.” She grips his hand tightly. “Doctors take an oath, Steve. They’re going to do everything they can. Okay?”
“Okay,” he mumbles, letting her pull him into another hug.
“Y’wanna tell me about Eddie?”
“You know Eddie.”
“Mhm, from Dusty. I’ve never heard about him from your perspective before.”
“I didn’t really know him before today,” he admits. “I knew of him, in high school, a little bit, but then I graduated and he didn’t and then Dustin started raving about him and… I got jealous.”
“Oh, Steve.” She cards a hand through his hair. “You know Dustin will always love you. You’re brothers.”
Steve sighs. “I know, but… we’re also not. I love you more than I love the woman who birthed me, and I love Dust as much as I’d love any biological sibling I could ever have, but-”
“I know,” Claudia says. “It’s okay, dear. Keep going. Tell me about Eddie.”
“Right. So I got jealous, and then I really didn’t wanna meet him, ‘cause he actually sounded kinda cool and I’m just… me. And I know what you’re gonna say, but you’re biased as my mom.” Claudia just chuckles. “But then I met him, and… he’s really nice, Mom. He really loves the twerps. And he’s, like… kind? And I know nice and kind are synonyms but it’s different. Like he’s just… an inherently good person. That’s kind. Nice you can fake. But you can’t fake kind. Y’know?”
“I know what you mean,” she agrees.
“Okay, good. Well he’s kind. He-” Steve sniffs. “He called me a good dude.”
“Well,” Claudia says, smiling, “you are.”
Steve chuckles wetly. “I am now, maybe, but I wasn’t when we knew each other in high school, and I didn’t really expect him to say anything. And he’s so passionate, Mom, and he’s talented, and he’s selfless, but that backfired because it landed him here-”
Claudia hums, strokes a hand through his hair. “How long have you liked him?” He stiffens. “Oh, please, like I haven’t known this entire time. Honestly, Steve, I’m not an idiot. And I’m not some backwards idiot especially who thinks two boys who love each other are the greatest sin.”
“No, it- Mom, you love Robin, of course you’re fine with it, I just- I didn’t… I didn’t realize.”
“Oh, Stevie,” she sighs, running her hand through his hair again. “When he gets out, are you gonna do something about it?”
“I don’t know,” he says quietly. “Maybe. If- if he even wants to be friends-”
“Okay, now I know you’re talking crazy,” she teases him, grinning.
Just then Hopper walks in, looking around with wide eyes, stopping when he sees Steve. “Dad!” Steve yelps, standing and walking quickly towards him, stopping about three steps in. “Oh, fuck,” he mutters, because he knows the way the room is spinning and his vision is going out.
He’s out before he hits the ground.
He wakes up later to find he didn’t hit the ground, actually; Hopper had leapt forward and caught him the second he’d stopped walking and started swaying.
He blinks bleary eyes open and finds himself looking at a ceiling tile. “What-”
“Don’t move,” comes Hopper’s voice from beside him.
He turns his head to frown at him. “Dad? What happened?”
“You passed out. Jumped outta Claudia’s arms like she’d burned you when you saw me. Much as I love you, kid, the parent’s gotta go first this time, ‘kay? No more self-sacrificing bullshit and not getting medical attention when you need it.”
“M’kay,” Steve says. “Sorry, Dad.”
Hopper puts a hand on his head. It’s comforting. “Go to sleep, kid.”
When he wakes up again, he’s more lucid. He looks around, sees Claudia asleep in the chair next to him. Looks on his other side, and his breath catches when he sees Eddie. His eyes are closed, he’s still asleep, but he’s alive.
“Mom,” he whispers, tearing his eyes away from Eddie to look at her. He feels bad, a little, waking her, but only a little because he knows she’d tear him a new one if he didn’t. “Mom.”
She starts awake and tears up when she sees him. “Stevie,” she murmurs, cradling his face with her hand.
“Mom,” he says again. “He’s here.”
Claudia chuckles. “You can thank your father and I for that one. We raised hell.”
“I bet you did,” he says appreciatively.
“And you, young man,” she says, too full of love to really be mean, “next time you tell me when you’ve been half eaten, okay? Or have you forgotten I’m a nurse?”
“Didn’t forget,” he murmurs, nudging her hand with his face. “Just wanted to stay with you.”
“Oh, Steve,” she murmurs. “You beautiful boy.”
He falls asleep again.
He wakes up again later and looks over to see Eddie also awake, and also looking at him. “Eddie,” he breathes.
It’s hard to tell from where he is, but it looks like Eddie’s blushing. “Looks like I’ve got you to thank for saving my life.”
Now Steve’s blushing. “Ah,” he eloquently says. “No, I mean, just- what anyone else would do?”
“Are you asking me?”
Oh, god, is he teasing? Steve barely survived the flirting before, but now there’s nothing else to keep his attention off Eddie, nothing else he can blame the blush on. “…I just didn’t do much,” he belatedly says.
“Bullshit.” He shifts and hisses in pain. “Fuck, those bastards got me good. But that- that’s proof, y’know?”
Steve blinks. He doesn’t know. “What?”
Eddie grins at him. The stitches in his cheek pull, but don’t tear. “That you saved me.”
Abruptly, Steve tears up. He looks away, up at the ceiling, wills the tears to stay inside. “Steve?”
“Yeah?”
“Are you-”
“No,” he answers quickly. Too quickly. There’s an awkward silence now. “Fuck,” he mutters. “I- I felt your heart stop, okay?” He looks over again, knows the tears are there, knowing they’re leaking into his hairline and across the bridge of his nose. “I wasn’t sure the doctors were even gonna try that hard to save you. And now you’re joking with me, and-” he takes a quick breath, holds it. Releases it slowly. “‘M just glad you’re okay,” he finally says.
“Oh,” Eddie says quietly. “I, uh. Didn’t think you really… cared. About me.”
“I think I care more than I should.”
Eddie takes a breath. “I’m about to say something way too brave, and I’m only saying it ‘cause we’re both in hospital beds and I’m assuming you can’t just, like, walk over and punch me.”
“Even if I could, I wouldn’t.”
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep. But, uh. Anyways. I don’t… people don’t care about me. My uncle Wayne does, sure, and the kids, but that’s different, and- well. I’ll take whatever care you wanna give me. It won’t be too much.”
“Okay,” Steve says, “well I definitely don’t want to punch you for that, what the hell, but I hope you know you’re gonna get hugged for that as soon as I figure out how to undo all this shit.” He gestures to the tubes in his arms, and Eddie starts to laugh, then stops just as quickly with a hiss.
“Okay, abs got eaten, no laughing,” he mutters, mostly to himself. “Shit, dude, stay in bed, you had like five people in here earlier who all told me specifically to not let you out of bed, though how I’m supposed to do that I dunno.”
Steve blinks over at him. “Five?”
“Well- four, now that I count. Dustin was here with his mom, he’s getting released later but was allowed out of bed for a minute and came to see us. Robin, and she looked angry, are you two, like, okay?”
Steve snorts. “Yeah, she’s just worried.”
“And then Chief Hopper, which- do you wanna explain why the actual Chief of Police was in here?”
“Ah,” Steve says, and blushes again. “He kinda, like… adopted me? Not officially, obviously, but he’s… well, I call him dad, so-”
“And Claudia?”
Steve hums. “‘S my mom. Dust’s my brother.”
Eddie snorts. “Jesus, Harrington, d’you just go around collecting people to call your parents? How many d’you have now, four?”
“Nah, just two. My parents fucked off pretty permanently by the time I was nine. And before that I had nannies when they were gone.”
Eddie blinks at him. “You- wait. Back up. You’ve been alone for the entirety of high school?”
Steve thinks. “I mean, I had Hopper, kinda, but that was before he became Dad, so… I guess?”
“Goddamn,” Eddie whispers wonderingly. “And you’re still sane?”
Steve snorts. “Jury’s out on that one, I mean I do willingly hang out with the twerps, so-”
“Fuck, don’t make me laugh, man.” He sighs. “I get it, though,” he says quietly. “Mom was an angel, but… Dad got to her, y’know? Tore her wings off, rubbed her halo in the dirt. Poured alcohol down her throat until she was dependent on it. And him. And when she-” he shakes his head. “Then it was just Dad, and he got sent away ‘cause apparently his new car wasn’t his, y’know? And I went to live with Wayne at twelve.”
“But now you’ve got Wayne.”
“Mhm.” He smiles a little. “Call ’im pops sometimes, ‘cause he’s my real dad now. Sometimes Wayne, sometimes Uncle Wayne. He doe’n’t care much.”
“What’s it like? Living with him?”
“It’s been a dream, honestly. He’s the nicest person I’ve ever met, and he’s got patience to rival a saint. Doesn’t care when I play my music loud, or forget to eat, or bring boy—uh, girls—over.”
Steve hums. “There’s still the house in Loch Nora, but I stay with the Hendersons most days. I tend to bring people I meet to Loch Nora, just ‘cause it’s empty, y’know? I mean, Dust’s a little shit, and he’d tease me regardless of who I brought home. Mom wouldn’t care. Hell, she’d probably give me a condom and lube,” he laughs. “And she’s teaching Dustin to be the same way. He’ll get there one day.”
“He’s a twerp,” Eddie agrees. “I didn’t know you, uh-”
“Mhm,” Steve answers. “Robin says I’m like Bowie.”
“Like Bowie- you’re bisexual?”
“That’s the one!” Steve says happily. “I can never remember the name.”
Eddie looks at him wonderingly. “Who are you, Steve Harrington?”
Eventually they get out of the hospital, and eventually they stop circling around each other. Eventually they kiss, and fall asleep on the couch, and make each other breakfast, and do certain things behind closed doors that Steve still can’t think about without blushing.
Eventually they’re outside the Munson’s trailer, working in the garden that Eddie, surprisingly, loved.
“Imma go in,” Steve says eventually. “Get a drink.”
“Alright,” Eddie says, not looking up from where he’s pulling weeds near his tomatoes. “I’ll be here.”
Steve has a bit of a headache already, and he knows drastic temperature changes don’t help. He didn’t think the trailer was that big of a difference, but it’s cool enough he’s got goosebumps breaking out along his arms almost immediately. Then he’s hit with a blast of freezing air when he opens the fridge, and his head begins to throb. “Fuck,” he mutters, shutting the door and grabbing for a glass, hoping the sink water isn’t too cold.
It’s cooler than he’d like, but it’s all he’s got right now, and he knows if he doesn’t hydrate it’s going to end up worse. He chugs two glasses, sets the cup down, and goes to sit at the table, rubbing his eyes.
It gets worse almost without him realizing: one second his relatively fine, the next he’s groaning in pain, trying to block out all the light by laying his head on his forearm.
A hand on his back startles him. “Dee?”
“Wayne,” comes the gruff voice. “Not Eddie. Y’got a migraine?”
“Mhm.”
“Y’take anything for it?”
Steve waves a hand. “Had water.”
Wayne leaves for a minute, comes back and presses two pills into Steve’s hand. A glass of water is placed in front of him.
He takes the pills, squinting, and lays his head back down.
“Nuh-uh,” Wayne says, “up you get, c’mon, you’re sleepin’ this off.” Hands at his shoulders guide him out of his seat, shuffle him slowly down the hall to Eddie’s cool, dark room. Lay him down and pull the blankets over him.
Steve sighs and relaxes into the bed, cracking an eye open to look at Wayne. “Thanks, Pops,” he murmurs, then winces when Wayne freezes. “S’rry. Wayne.”
Wayne pets a hand through Steve’s hair. “Pops works just fine,” he says. “I’ll tell Ed you’re in here.”
“M’kay,” Steve breathes, and lets himself fall asleep.
They’re at Hopper’s cabin, an annual We Saved the World semi-party that usually ends in at least one disagreement.
Eddie’s got most of the kids corralled away in the living room, with promises of an epic one-shot. The adults, Steve, Max, and El are in the kitchen.
He doesn’t know who started it, but someone teases him, and Hopper ruffles his hair with another jab. “Dad,” he complains good-naturedly, laughing.
“Steve?” El asks.
“Yeah?” He looks at her.
“Hopper is your dad.”
Steve glances at Hopper, who’s listening, but making no move to answer. “I mean… not, like, biologically, but yeah.”
“Me too,” El says. “Are you my brother, then?”
Steve flounders. “I- I guess if you want me to be?”
“You’re a good brother to Dustin,” she answers. “I haven’t had any good brothers besides Will, and we are the same age. I would like a good older brother.”
He smiles, tugs her into a hug. “I guess I’m your brother, then.”
She goes willingly. “Does that mean Joyce is your mom too?” She looks up at him, big eyes serious. “She is a good mom.”
“Uh,” Steve says, “that’s kinda up to Joyce.”
“Oh, honey,” Joyce says, because of course everyone had stopped talking the moment El had started. “Why don’t you call me Mama J?”
Steve smiles bashfully, accepting her hug. “Sounds good to me.”
When he tells Eddie later, his boyfriend laughs. “You really do collect parents!”
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