#babysitter Steve harrington

[space-invading-pigeon]

Everyone jokes about Steve being the babysitter or the mom friend, but no one actually appreciates everything he does until he gets sick. Steve is the epitome of a doting parent; sure, he's only twenty and the seven kids he's adopted aren't actually his in any legal way, but those kids are his pride and fucking joy. Anyone who sees Steve with those kids can tell that he loves them deeply, which is why Steve is the only person in the Party that can convince their parents to allow anything- their parents KNOW that their kids will not only be well looked after, but they'll be genuinely enjoying themselves too.

Because he's a single mom except he's actually just barely out of his teenage years with no kids, he gets a lot of shit from everyone about it; he's known almost exclusively to the Party as Mama Steve (when he isn't in earshot of course). That's all fine by Steve, he always wanted a big family and now he has it. The problems start to appear when the Party realizes that Steve Harrington flat out ignores his own needs until they're so pressing that he's physically unable to do anything.

It all starts when Robin is told by Keith, of all people, that Steve has called in sick. Robin, of course, panics and calls him, and when he doesn't answer she calls Eddie to check on him. He and Steve had gotten closer since spring break, so it wasn't unusual for a member of the party to call either Eddie or Steve to check in on the other.

Eddie checks in to find Steve Harrington, badass warrior prince incarnate, sobbing from a blanket mountain on the couch in his living room. No one has ever actually seen Steve cry before, so Eddie freaks out, but it's just the result of a high fever and watching Old Yeller by himself. After calming the sick man, Eddie managed to coax some medicine into him and call Family Video to let Robin know that, yes, Steve is alive and no, he wasn't going to die of fever, but he only manages to get Steve to sleep by reading to him (Eddie finds it disgustingly adorable, even more so later when Nancy mentions that Steve loves stories but struggles with what he calls "moving letters"). And for the next two weeks, Steve is down for the count. Joyce and Claudia Henderson take turns making sure Steve is alright (Joyce because Steve is one of Her Kids, and Claudia because Steve is the Older Son she never had) while Eddie, Nancy, Jonathan, and Robin all try to take his place.

By the end of the first day, Nancy calls it quits: Mike is a bullheaded terror who only ever seems to like Will, El, or Eddie, and even then he doesn't always listen to them, so the Wheeler siblings fight even more ferociously than usual. She can't get El or Erica to listen, either; Erica is a force to be reckoned with, and El will only nod passively before doing what she wants anyway. By the end of day three, Jonathan is out. He won't say what happened, but he told Max to be nicer to the Party one time and, ten minutes later, he was tearfully saying that the kids were little monsters.

Robin lasts longer, almost an entire week, by chattering at the kids until they give up and listen to her. She meets her match when Dustin and Erica try to commandeer the Family Video computer again: Dusting sneaks past and almost breaks the computer just trying to get to it while Erica does Erica and argues until Robin the Rambler runs out of words. The morning of day seven is very dark for her.

Eddie, through what he believes to be the universe's acknowledgement of the depth of his affection for Steve and also sheer force of will, lasts the whole two weeks, but just barely. Mike argues over everything, no matter what; Will is skittish at the best of times and disappears constantly (thankfully, not like his Upside Down episodes - the boy just can't stop getting distracted and wandering away from the group), only to reappear directly behind Eddie and scaring him into an early grave; Lucas gets frustrated easily and can never seem to find the right words to communicate his thoughts and feelings, so he snarks and lashes out before awkwardly trying to mend the situation; Erica is so completely herself that it can be dizzying when the full force of that hurricane is directed towards Eddie; Dustin practically follows Eddie around like a little duckling, demanding updates on Steve or ranting about one of his many interests; El spends most of her time with the Party learning about how girls her age act through Max or practicing her braiding on Eddie. The worst of them all, though, is Max. Despite having healed up, she's still in physical therapy to rebuild her muscle strength and dexterity, and her eyesight is bad enough now that there's talk of her getting a service animal. It isn't that she needs a little extra attention that makes her the worst, though: it's that somehow, she still chases the most mischief. Eddie has only narrowly managed to keep her from assaulting no less that nine people in the two weeks that Steve is sick, and he knows she's definitely tried to commit arson at least twice that often.

Finally, after two weeks, Steve feels better enough to return to his usual activity, and Eddie begs him to never get sick again.

[withacapitalp]

Seventh

Read it on ao3 here!

“You wanna tell me what that was all about?” Steve asked, sliding the glass door shut and cutting off the noise from the rest of the party inside. 

Erica stubbornly shook her head, crossing her arms and continuing to stare out into the wide open space of Steve’s backyard. Her jaw was clenched up so tight it hurt, and the concrete was cold against her legs. But she couldn’t move or go inside, because then she would have to face all the people she had just screamed at. 

Steve sighed softly behind her, a familiar sound that Erica was almost immune to hearing. Almost. It still kind of hurt to hear that disappointment sent her way. Normally he was just mad at the boys or annoyed by whatever bullshit Max wanted to pull that day. 

Today he was mad at Erica. Which was fair, seeing as she had just made a big fucking scene at his house. 

“What happened?” Steve asked softly, lowering himself down onto the ground and sitting cross legged on her left side. His tone was gentle, coaxing, like Erica was a child with a fever who needed to take medicine, and not a young adult who was completely overreacting. 

Not mad then. Worried. 

Even worse. 

Erica would have honestly preferred Steve was mad, because then they could both just blow off steam, and she wouldn’t be forced to explain the completely embarrassing reason she had just had an outburst. 

“They kept saying I was Seven,” She grumbled, hating Steve for being so fucking easy to talk to and making her open up. Steve didn’t immediately respond the way the rest of them would have, and when Erica glanced over, she saw he was deep in thought, trying to work out exactly why that might have upset her. 

That’s why they all liked talking to him. Steve always considered what was going on before making a snap decision. 

“It was just teasing. You never let that get to you. Besides we all know you’re twelve, Erica, not seven,” Steve finally said, clearly not understanding what exactly had set her off. 

He hadn’t heard the whole conversation. 

“They weren’t saying I was seven years old. They were saying I’m seven.” Erica paused here, hoping she wouldn’t have to say anything else. But, when it was clear it still hadn’t clicked, she gave a short irritated sigh and continued, “As in the seventh. Your seventh kid,” 

“Okay? Did you not like that they were saying that you were my kid? Cause I know we joke about me being mom a lot, but I know that you guys have actual-“

“No,” Erica cut him off, not even wanting Steve to start down that particular train. She bit her lip, closing her eyes and gathering up the courage to say what she actually needed to say.

“You wanted six. I’m the seventh.” Erica stated. 

An uncomfortable and heavy silence stood in the air between them as Steve registered what had been said and put the dots together. Erica waited, staring at the trees and willing herself to stay where she was. It would be easier to just get up and bolt, but no doubt Steve would chase her down and make her listen to whatever mushy thing he was going to say. 

“I’m gonna kill past me,” Steve groaned, burying his face in his hands and dragging his fingers down his cheeks, “Okay, first of all, that was something I said to Nancy in confidence, assuming there wasn’t eavesdropping,” 

“Stupid thing to assume. It’s us,” Erica replied, needing to put some of her armor back on. This was already too raw for comfort. 

“Second of all,” Steve pressed, ignoring her little interlude, “That daydream I had was for three boys and three girls. As far as I know I have three girls, so one of the boys is the extra. Let’s say Mike. Mike can be seventh,”

A giggle slipped out of her mouth without permission, and Erica pressed a hand against her mouth to hide her smile. Mike would be the one Steve would pick to be seventh in a lineup, just because they all knew how much it would irritate his stupid inflated ego.  

“Third of all,” Steve started, trailing off. His voice was soft again, low and sweet.

It was the same voice he had when he spoke to her in the hospital after the gates closed, when she had been sitting alone in the emergency room waiting for someone to show up. Steve had taken both of Erica’s hands in his own, neither of them fully able to ignore the blood sticking to their palms, and he told her everything was going to be okay. 

And everything was okay now. She was the one having a problem that wasn’t actually a problem in the first place. 

“Erica, I had that daydream when I was your age. My parents had just started leaving, going on business trips for days or weeks sometime. And I, well,  I was lonely,” Steve admitted. Now it was his turn to stare at the trees, a muted but deeply set pain sitting in every word. 

“I told myself when I got older that I wasn’t going to do that. I came up with this whole fantasy where things were going to get better, so I could focus on that instead of how shitty things were then”

Erica wanted to respond, wanted to say something, but she couldn’t get her mouth to open. She could see a young Steve sitting right where they were now, on the concrete by the pool. That Steve didn’t have someone to come out and check on him, someone to reassure him that he was loved and cared for. 

He had just had to deal with it all alone, and dream that maybe life had something better in store for him somewhere down the line. 

“So, if you think about it logically, that twelve year old kid who only ever wanted a big family who loved him just as he was got exactly what he was looking for,” Steve said, scooting a bit closer and wrapping an arm around her shoulders. 

Erica went easily, letting herself get wrapped up in a warm hug. Steve hugs, the best kind, cure for any and all problems. She would never say that out loud to him, she’d die of embarrassment, but thinking it was enough to make her bury her face against his chest.

“And getting to have a seventh kid that was his- a really special, really funny, kinda a smartass, but genuinely good, kid,” Steve said after a moment, pulling away just enough so that he could make sure she was looking him in the eye, “Well I think that twelve year old would know how crazy fucking lucky he was to get to love that seventh kid,”

A blooming warmth settled in Erica’s chest, slowly overtaking her body until she felt like she might be glowing. She knew that Steve loved her. That was obvious. Steve loved all of them. But knowing it and hearing it were two different things. 

“Wow…..that’s a lot of nice things to say about Mike,” She said, falling back into herself and leaving the safe little cocoon they had created. She didn’t need it anymore, she had her reassurances. 

“Mike?” Steve asked, not putting things together. Erica huffed out a soft laugh, grinning like the cheshire cat as she stood up and stretched. 

“Yeah, Mike,” Erica replied, “Seeing as, according to you, the seventh is Mike, not me.” 

A beat of silence, and then Steve was throwing himself backwards, falling flat on his back as he tossed his hands into the air

“Why do I even bother with you brats?” He groaned, throwing an arm over his eyes. 

“Because you love us,” Erica shot back, still all warm and wanting to just get to hear it again, “I’m gonna go inside now, tell him you said all that nice stuff about him,” 

“Don’t even think about it,” Steve said in a warning tone. Erica hummed, rocking back and forth on her heels for a second before shrugging. 

“No, I’m gonna. Bye Steve!” 

He was up in the blink of an eye, taking her bait and falling hook, line, and sinker. Erica ran farther into the yard, laughing with glee as he chased her around and around. 

[truefangirl-13]

Steve Harrington has guilt over Eddie dying because he made a fuss about always being pared up with Dustin and the one time he wasn’t… He believes it should’ve been him

[italiansteebie]

you know when you feel gross and kinda queasy and you don't know what's wrong but then you sit down and poop and life is great?

steve has had that experience too many times to give any other suggestions to the kids when their stomachs hurt other than "go take a shit."

and the various teens are like "ew, gross." but then they do and they feel 10x better and steve just looks at them like 😏

idk but

eventually it becomes his solution for every problem.

the kids are fighting? take a shit.

nervous about a test? shit.

tired? shit.

it carries over to robin too.

she's too nervous to talk to a girl? she just needs to take a shit.

cut to eddie being super nervous for a big gig with cc, like he's shaking and sweaty, and steve is like "don't worry baby, just go take a shit and it'll all be okay." and eddie's like ??? but does, and comes back and "it actually worked?" and steve is just like, "yeah."

[lukas-dusk]

Steve : While I'm gone, you're in charge Dustin, Erica.

Dustin pointing his fist in the air : Yes!

Erica : Nice.

Mike and Lucas : WHY THEM!?

Steve, whispering to Max and Will : You're secretly in charge, but I don't want them to throw a tantrum.

Max : Obviously.

Will : *nodding*

El : *giggling*

[veryace-ficrecs]

Steve Harrington Is a Good Babysitter

This list will include all ratings and tags, so read at your own discretion! :)   

Blood will follow blood by Rocketbride - Rated T

Steve smiled. “Here’s the bad news: you’re gonna need stitches, Mayfield. A bandage isn’t going to keep enough blood inside of you. And you might get an infection if you leave it gaping open like that.”

“No. No!” Max thrashed and El hugged her.

“What’s the problem, Mad Max?” Eddie said from behind Lucas. “Hate the hospital? It ain’t so bad. I had some delicious jello when I was recovering from the bat attack.” He sauntered into her line of sight and flapped his arms dramatically.

“No, it’s…we can’t afford it, alright?” Max tried to sit up and El scooched in to support her. “I had to get stitches two months ago and they cost $200. My mom didn’t eat lunch for a week after that.” Her eyes rolled up at Steve. “Please, Steve, can’t you just, like, tape it up? I can go easy on it. Lucas can help me get around.” Everyone looked at Lucas, who nodded nervously.

“Steve, just put some more gauze on it, I’ll be fine,” Max gritted out as she tried to get to her feet.

“Woah, woah, stay down,” Steve held his arms to block her. He chewed his lips harder. “I guess I could. Yeah. It could work.”

The dangers of babysitting by Siegrrun - Rated T

The wound in his side screamed against the too deep breath and it took everything he had in him not to make a sound. There was no need to alarm the kids.

Or

Steve hides his injury from the kids. It goes about as well as you'd think

 i wave goodbye to the end of beginning (goodbye) by steveharringtoned - Not Rated

Eddie Munson has been going steady with Steve Harrington for a little while now. He’s learned to expect the occasional disturbance.

In which he observes:

5 times Steve helps the kids, +1 time they help him.

 you're beautiful (every little piece, love) by strawberryspence - Rated T

Steve Harrington would do anything for the kids. Anything.

Apparently that includes shaving his hair.

The Curse of Hawkins Becomes Known by AshWinterGray - Rated T

Lucas won the game, Steve pulls off a miracle, the guys are sorry, and... Chrissy Cunningham is apparently possessed. This is not how anyone thought the night would go. Least of all the government. 

You can put it all on me, you can laugh and you can bleed by steveharringtoned - Rated G

Phil Callahan has made a large variety of strange arrests in his time working as a cop for Hawkins, Indiana. Daylight skinny-dippers; a small group of old ladies who’d attempted to rob the corner shop with their umbrellas, a guy who’d stolen a total of eighteen gnomes from his suburban neighborhood.

But pulling over Max Mayfield driving her brother’s Camaro at the ripe age of thirteen was pretty insane. Sure, kids will be kids and kids will be crazy. Until Steve Harrington crawled out of the backseat, clutched his knees and horror-movie hurled blood all over his boots and shit got crazier.

That took it from a minor concern to oh, fuck. Callahan has to take this kid to a hospital.

Kiss, Marry, Kill by QueermoDelToro - Rated G

The kids play Kiss, Marry, Kill. Dustin instigates. Mike overreacts. Hilarity ensues. 

Pride of the Party by scifigeek14 - Rated T

The party owes Steve a lot, and he owes them just as much.

A five plus one fic - about friendship, growing up, and gratitude.

it feels so scary, getting old by generic_cruiser - Rated T

Five times Robin sees Steve being a mom to the party, and one time she fills in for him 

five times steve hated being the babysitter and the one time he was grateful by simplyylupin - Rated T

Selfishly, a part of him wished he’d ignored Dustin earlier that day and just gone home, oblivious to the situation around him. Alas, he was there, and there was no way in hell he was letting these prepubescent dipshits blindly follow a bunch of flesh eating monsters.

or

Five times Steve Harrington (thought he) hated being the babysitter and the one time he was grateful. 

Sleep tight, don't let the Demodogs bite by PursueCrazyLife - Rated G

After the tunnels a fairly stressed-out and concussed Steve has to ensure the safety of the kids.

And there is still the matter of the demodog in the fridge.

(aka. the obligatory season 2 aftermath fanfic. After experiencing season 2 nostalgia I couldn't help myself adding yet another one to the pile)

The Favor by AshWinterGray - Rated T

Hopper showing up at his door is alarming for several reasons. For most, it would be because he was the Chief of Police. But for Steve, it meant there was a potential threat. And now was not the time for him to be cooking dinner. 

Common Cents by Ghoststar - Rated T

Making a will at eighteen seems incredibly morbid. The lawyer stares at him long and hard the entire time. She acts like he's contagious, like she might catch her death from him or maybe he'll ruin her rug by dropping dead in her office. Steve figures she has nothing to worry about. If anything's going to kill him, it's probably going to be a monster from the Upside Down.

-

In which Steve hunts monsters, becomes a deputy, makes a will, and finds a family. Among other things.

designated driver by genesisofrhythm - Rated T

 Steve screamed as Robin slammed on the brakes.

 “That is not how you stop!” he said, as his whole body jerked forward. His head would’ve hit the dashboard if he wasn’t holding the handle at the top of the car with a death grip.

 Robin turned to look at him. She had the audacity to be offended. “There was a stop sign.”

 “Eyes on the road,” Steve snapped.

Or: 5 times Steve taught someone how to drive + 1 time he was in the driver’s seat.

Outside Looking In (Request) by miss_little_kitten - Rated G

Eddie seeing the kids and Robin interacting with Steve, including a day he's waiting for their arrival and they never came.

Steve and Robin would 100% look everywhere for those kids if they couldn't find them.

The Times Steve Didn't Know How To Say I Love You and the Time He Did by miss_little_kitten - Rated G

Times Steve didn't know to say I love you too back to the kids, either in their own love language or the words in general and then the time he said he loved them to Hell and back, which was obvious.

[creepydude78]

Season 2 steve harrington!

I'm still not quite used to drawing Steve's hair or face yet. So this was some practice.

Steve harrington is the best babysitter

[violetdaphne]

take me back to the night we met - 

no. take me back to when the ao3 tag was ‘steve harrington & the stranger things kids’ and not ‘steve harrington and the party’ 

[kengwisi]

ok, look, this weird hahah, but... how about Steve from Stranger Things being Luz's mom from The Owl House? Both mom, have a bat, accidentally got into a strange situation and accidentally became parents (Camila in the sense that the number of children suddenly increased)(Steve because in the fandom he is often perceived as a mother). They are protective and good. Also, fan headcanon that Steve wears glasses. And Steve to be a veterinarian? Good! Maybe you can find some more moments, just think about it 

[sleepyeye17]

Chapters 3 and 4 of my Steddie New Year’s Eve fic!!

Excerpt:

Steve walked the baby around the group home's playroom and watched the clock move closer to midnight. He’d signed up for the night shift tonight, letting almost everyone else go to their parties. He didn’t have anywhere to be. It was just him, the elderly Missus Clark, and the security guards tonight.

He put the latest Corroded Coffin album on the kiddie record player and started singing along as he swayed the baby.

The baby snuffled on Steve’s shoulder. She’d been born a Jane Doe, and Steve was trying to come up with a name for her. Missus Clark usually just went alphabetically down a list, which would make this baby Jessica, but Steve liked names to be meaningful.

This little girl was a real howler, left at the hospital with FAS and a prenatal drug addiction. She was out of the woods now, but still in a lot of pain. The only thing that could get her to shut up was metal music, much to the amusement of the staff. The doctor said it was the pounding rhythm that reminded the baby of a heartbeat, but Steve secretly thought the girl was impressed by anyone who could outdo her rage. Alice Cooper was her favorite, especially Poison , and Steve wondered if she might somehow understand the lyrics, like a secret message from addict to addict that went beyond language.

Tonight he wasn’t in the mood for Alice Cooper. It was approaching midnight on New Year’s Eve, and that meant Corroded Coffin. It was tradition, after all.

“Will I see you tonight? (Bada dada da da)” Steve sang, complete with instrumental vocalizations, bouncing the little girl in time with the music. “ On a downtown train? (Bum bum bum bum)”

He hadn’t spoken to Eddie for over a year. It hadn’t been difficult to avoid the guy. Eddie had mostly stayed on the road, then done a stint in rehab. Dustin had told Steve that Eddie was now sober and single, and Steve had pretended not to care. He’d said his bit, twice over. If Eddie had wanted him, he knew where to find him.

“ I know your window and I know it's late, I know your stairs and your doorway... I walk down your street and past your gate… I stand by the light of the four way.”

The doorbell rang, and Steve ignored it. The others could handle it. They’d had a spate of ding-dong-ditch-the-baby recently, what with the cold weather and the increasing drug problem around Hawkins. Missus Clark could handle that. Steve couldn’t put down this girl or she’d start screaming again.

“And watch them as they fall, oh baby, they all having their heart attacks… They stay at the carnival, But they'll never win you back.”

There was a shriek downstairs, and Steve stopped moving. Missus Clark had a panic button, and there was always a security guard at the door, but maybe… Steve’s responsibility in an emergency was to lock down the upper floors and guard the kids. He turned off the record and paused at the door, waiting for another sign of distress. The baby started whimpering at the new quiet, and Steve bounced her on his hip a few times.

“Shhh-shhh-shhh.”

He heard footsteps on the stairs, and Missus Clark’s reedy voice saying,

“He’s right up here with our newest arrival. He’s awake, she never sleeps. She only ever sleeps to your type of music, which we all find very funny.”

Steve stopped breathing. It couldn’t be. Why would it be? Of course not. Maybe it was Jeff, Jeff came by sometimes to visit Missus Clark.

There was a knock on the door, and Steve jumped back.

“Come in,” he said, his voice cracking.

“Stevie, there’s a visitor for you.”

It was.

Eddie looked better than he had in the tabloids. Steve had seen the headlines, seen Eddie’s emaciated body being wheeled into the rehab facility: pale, greasy, haunted. He wasn’t as thin, now, or as pale, and his hair was back to its original thick curls. Eddie bit his lip when he saw Steve.

“Hi,” he said.

[longlivefanfic-net]

Banished&Bloody: Steve's Lament

Fic Summary: Post-Volume II. Eddie Munson wasn't dead when he was left in the Upside Down; well, he wasn't dead anymore. Steve Harrington has spent the days since they came back to Hawkins haunted by the idea that he could have saved Eddie--or at least died in his place. It quickly becomes clear that the Hawkin's group has to go back to the Upside Down and, when they do, they find an unfamiliar face. Vampire!Eddie Munson, Grieving Steve Harrington.

Chapter Summary/Content: Chapter 4 of 8. Steve continues to struggle with his grief over Eddie's death, and Robin notices that he's showing signs of Vecna's curse.

Word Count: 4.6k

A/N: Hey besties remember how I said I was making myself sad? Yeah I actually almost cried in public while writing this bc the idea of Steve feeling like this makes me want to ***. Have fun!!

Chapter Four: Steve's Lament

Steve Harrington’s eyes shot open, his chest heaving as he forced mouthfuls of air down to his burning lungs. He could feel his heartbeat racing in his chest, pounding over the side of his throat, hammering in his ears. His hand slipped under his pillow, fingers reflexively gripping around the handle of the knife he now slept with under his head. He let his breathing even out, slowly, as his eyes adjusted to the darkness around him. He was home, in the room he had slept in his entire life, the darkness of the night cut through only by the low glimmer slanting through the blinds of his window. Steve’s eyes scanned the room, fixing on the dark corners as he ensured he was alone. It was a dream, he thought to himself, his lungs finally slowing, just a normal dream. 

It hadn’t been normal, necessarily, but it wasn’t more than a dream the way Max had told him about. He had dreamed of Robin again tonight–of Robin dying while he stood and watched her. The nightmare hadn’t even been original; Robin, pinned to the ground by demobats, a tail wrapped around her throat as her face turned blue. Steve had stood there in his dream, watching her lips struggle to force a scream through the too-tight constriction of her throat, and had dropped the splintered oar he had held, falling backwards as Robin’s fingers had reached out to him, clawing ferociously. Steve had had the same dream two nights ago; it was one of the regular ones at this point. The method of death changed in his dreams: sometimes demobats, sometimes Vecna, even the choking vines made the occasional appearance. Nightmares weren’t new for Steve: he had had the occasional dream about the thing the kids called the Mind Flayer, and, long after Nancy had started dating Jonathan, he had still dreamed about that thing he had beaten in the Byers’ house with a baseball bat. 

But these nightmares felt different. First of all, they were every night. Steve hadn’t slept through the night since he had first made it back from the Upside Down after being dragged through the watergate. He had been haunted by the feeling of something wrapping around his ankle, dragging him through water with only half a breath of air burning in his lungs, for days, but the dreams of those fucking bats biting Nancy or wrapping around Robin had ruined what little rest he had been able to get as they made their plans to kill Vecna. The dreams had only gotten worse after they came back from their failed mission. His brain had too many images to use against him now. The worst part was that the dreams had gotten more intense; he used to wake up just before someone died but, ever since he had let Eddie Munson die in his place keeping Dustin safe, now he watched his friends stop breathing, watched their eyes turn glassy as they choked on blood. Every night. Every night Steve woke up from one of these dreams. 

The worst nights were the ones where he dreamed about Eddie and Dustin, actually. The dreams about Robin and Nancy scared the shit out of him, sure, Steve wasn’t above admitting to that, but the dreams about Eddie and Dustin– The first night he had dreamed of those two, he had yanked himself out of bed, half-stumbling to his bathroom where he gripped the cool porcelain of his sink between his too-hot hands and stared at himself in the mirror. For just a second, Steve had stared in the mirror at his sweat-dappled skin, his hair sticking up in every direction, and thought he had seen just the tiniest drop of blood at the corner of his eye. He had spent the next few minutes emptying the contents of his stomach, his chest heaving as he vomited. Steve’s brain pulled images of Eddie Munson from deep in his memories, bringing out images from Steve’s junior year when Eddie was a senior for the first time. Steve would watch Eddie, hair only just starting to get too long, laugh with his friends–and then choke as blood started pouring out of his mouth. Sometimes, Steve would watch as Eddie ruffled Dustin’s hair, earning a hand-slap and a glare at the disturbance of Dustin’s careful curls, and then stand by–helpless–as Eddie crumpled to the ground, Dustin screaming like Steve had never actually heard him scream. The worst, though, were the dreams where Eddie killed Dustin. Steve didn’t know where these dreams came from, but he had woken up twice now to searing images of Eddie pulling Dustin’s head back, drawing clawed fingers like Vecna’s across Dustin’s throat, and dipping his head to the resulting crimson flow. Both nights Steve had had those dreams, he had spent the rest of the night hiding in the bright-white light of his bathroom, door locked, knife in hand. All of the dreams about Eddie kept Steve from going back to sleep. Watching Eddie die, night after night, knowing that he had sacrificed himself for Steve to kill Vecna–something he hadn’t done–was different than the dreams about Robin and Nance and Dustin. Eddie was actually dead, and Steve knew it was his fault. 

They all said it wasn’t. Robin had gripped his wrist, hard, digging her nails into his skin, when he had told her all the ways he knew he was responsible for Eddie Munson’s death–for making Eddie be the babysitter, for telling him not to be a hero, for taking too long to attack Vecna. She had told Steve that they had all done those things, so if that made anyone responsible for Eddie’s death then they all were. Nancy, after Robin had obviously told her what Steve had said, had pulled him aside and gently placed a hand on his shoulder. She had told Steve that no one was responsible for Eddie’s choices but Eddie–they couldn’t go around blaming themselves for someone else’s actions. But still, that little voice in Steve’s head–the one that had told him to go find Nancy at the Byers’ house all those years ago, that had told him Nancy wasn’t in love with him like he was with her, that had made him offer to take Dustin to the winter dance, that was always, always right–told him it was. 

Steve felt like he was being haunted by Eddie Munson. He was torturing himself, he knew he was, using any time he had alone to remember the things Eddie had said to him. The way he had pressed his body just slightly too-close for comfort to Steve’s when he said he was jealous. The way he had held a tool between his teeth as he ripped cords out of that RV’s dashboard. The insane light that flickered just behind his brown eyes when he suggested playing guitar on top of his trailer in the Upside Down. Between the stack of flyers on Steve’s dresser, accumulated from every corkboard around town, and the god-awful nightmares, it was like Steve couldn’t get away from him, couldn’t get away from the too-wide eyes and the long hair and the rings and the way his lips were puckered, just slightly, in every photo in Steve’s yearbooks like he had thought of something he shouldn’t say and was going to say it anyway. And yeah, Steve had pulled out the old yearbooks, turning through the glossy pages for pictures of Eddie. He had started out by searching for proof that the half-memories that turned so quickly to nightmares were real, weren’t just manufactured by his brain. His Junior year had been Eddie’s first time being a Senior, and he could be found in the background of multiple shots in the cafeteria, head leaned back in laughter more often than not. Steve had even found one picture, from his Senior year and Eddie’s second, where Steve had his arms wrapped around some of the guys from the basketball team and a long-haired, denim clad figure was running through the background, possibly flipping the camera the bird. You couldn’t see his face, but Steve knew it was Eddie. 

Steve sighed, rolling on to his side in his sweat-soaked bed, and sat up. He rubbed at his face blearily, finally accepting that he wasn’t going back to sleep tonight. Walking into the bathroom, the tile cool under his bare feet, Steve turned on the tap and proceeded to strip, opting to shower off the now-chilled sweat over his body. Stepping into the shower, he turned the heat all the way up, hoping to burn some of the images out from behind his eyes. Under the heat of the water, droplets slipping through his hair to slide down his face, Steve closed his eyes–and immediately blinked them back open, the image of Robin losing air and turning stiff as she reached toward him flashing behind his eyelids again. The fucking nightmares. He shook his head, aggressively, tilting his skull back to let the heat rinse down his scalp and back. Steve shut the water off, grabbing a towel, and drying himself as quickly as possible. 

He dressed and headed downstairs, flipping on lights as he went. It was still dark outside, still night–the clock in the kitchen said it was barely 2 AM. Luckily, Steve didn’t have to worry about waking anyone else up; his parents were rarely home, and he had gotten accustomed to being alone most mornings. He filled the coffeemaker with water and grounds, switching it on before pulling open the refrigerator door. Huh, Steve thought. Guess I need to buy my own groceries soon. He ate most meals at Hopper’s cabin now, fixing sandwiches or frozen dinners the kids complained about. But he didn’t mind–frankly, it was kind of nice to have the company at meal times. It made him feel like he was part of the kind of family he had dreamed about ever since the first time his parents deemed him old enough to stay home alone without a babysitter. The kids would fight for the few comfortable seats in the house, pushing and complaining, and he would take a spot on the floor next to Robin. Listening to other people talk, make jokes, tease each other, while he ate–it was the kind of life Steve dreamed about. But, as a result, his refrigerator was all but empty. He had the majority of a six pack, a carton of milk with a single swig left in it, two eggs, and some moldy cheese. Steve sighed, shutting the door. Coffee for now, then. 

He sat in silence at the dining table, sipping too-hot coffee out of his favorite mug. It was one that Henderson had gotten for him, last Christmas, with a picture of Farrah Fawcett on it. Dustin had giggled, nearly in hysterics, as Steve explained to the other kids that he had a huge crush on Farrah–that was all, he had said, narrowing his eyes at Dustin. The kid had practically exploded with the effort of crushing his laughter down. Steve grinned now, alone at the table, as he remembered how happy all of the kids had been that night. They seemed so much younger then, so much smaller than they were now. Steve shook his head as he finished the last of his coffee, standing up to put the mug in the sink before he left the house. They grow up so fast, he thought to himself. Especially when they have to. 

Steve had become a late-night regular at the one 24-hour-diner in Hawkins. Near the highway, usually only accompanied by truckers, Steve would order something different almost every time he came in. He was determined to find at least one thing on the menu that actually arrived at the table looking anything like the pictures on the laminated plastic menus, and the food was–if greasy–always good. He had driven past Robin’s house one night, surprised to see her outline sitting on the curb outside like she was waiting for him. When he had coasted the car to a stop, she had gotten in the passenger seat without a word. Now, every time Steve headed to the diner he passed her house first; if she was outside, she always rode along, adding her midnight breakfast of chocolate milk and waffles with extra butter to his tab. Together, the two of them had spent a few nights watching the sun come up through the grease-smeared windows, picking bites off of each other’s plates. 

When the two of them pulled into the parking lot tonight, the neon glinting on the glass, Steve was relieved to have his best friend with him. She was quiet on these late-night drives, still half asleep he suspected, and she’d always lean her head against the cool glass of the car’s windows as they drove. Once they made it to the diner, she would start to chatter, giving him a constant background sound to distract himself from the images still seared on his retinas. Inside, Robin bounded across the tile before sliding into her side of their booth, and Steve couldn’t stop the half-smile that pulled at his mouth. A little grip he hadn’t even noticed around his heart loosened, letting him feel relaxed for the first time since he had woken up. A tiny half-sigh escaped his chest as he looked at Robin, settling into the seat across from her, and took in the color in her cheeks, the light in her eyes, the smile on her lips–so different from his dream. “Rough night, Harrington?” She asked, the first thing she’d said tonight as a straight eyebrow lifted over her eye. Steve just shook his head. “Aren’t they all?” He quipped, and Robin grimaced slightly. The waitress came to the table, and Steve waited until Robin ordered her usual to place his order with absolutely no concern for what would actually make it’s way out of the kitchen. Steve watched the waitress walk away, and when he turned back to Robin her face was pale. “Steve,” she whispered. 

Oh God, oh shit, oh fuck–Steve had no idea what was wrong, but Robin never looked at him like that without a good reason. “What? What is it?” Steve hissed between his teeth, his head whipping around to look at the restaurant. He half expected a demogorgon to be coming through the walls, or a flock of demobats to be hurtling towards them across red, lightning-lit skies. “Your nose,” Robin said, and Steve turned back to her. “Huh?” “Your nose is bleeding,” Robin said, her voice taking on the panicked tone he knew too well as she pulled napkin after napkin out of the chrome dispenser at the end of the table. She shoved a fistful of rough, white paper towards him, and Steve wiped his upper lip. He felt his own eyes widen when he saw the red smear across the napkin. He wiped again, looking up at Robin. Her eyes were wide, lips pressed together as she watched him clean his face. When he had finished, Robin assuring him that his face was clean, Steve balled the napkins up and shoved them in his pocket, unwilling to let them sit on the table between the two of them. 

“Why do you look so freaked, Robs?” Steve asked, sniffing slightly. “You know why I’m freaked,” Robin replied, leaning slightly over the table to hiss her words into Steve’s face. She leaned back, suddenly, the waitress appearing at the end of the table. As she set plates in front of them both, Robin turned and thanked her as Steve ran his fingers through his hair. He was pretty sure he had ordered some sort of omelet and–well, it was definitely eggs, plus whatever else the chef had decided to mix in. He shrugged, avoiding Robin’s eyes as he unwrapped the paper napkin around his silverware and stabbed a forkful. Whatever he had ordered, it was good, and Steve let his eyes slide closed, his head tilting as he savored the rich flavors. When he opened his eyes again, Robin was still staring at him, her own plate untouched. “You want a bite of this?” Steve asked, gesturing towards his plate. Robin sighed, rolling her eyes. “Steve,” she sighed, exasperated already. “Why aren’t you as freaked out by your nosebleed as I am?”

Steve wasn’t as frightened by the blood running down his face as Robin was because, frankly, he wasn’t surprised by it. He had had a nosebleed a few days earlier too; just a few drops, easily swiped away and then rinsed down the sink when he excused himself to the bathroom. No one had noticed the light red smear on his upper lip before he washed it away, caught up in their planning to traverse the Upside Down and battle Vecna for what they hoped–they prayed–would be the last time. Steve couldn’t resent them for it: if he had wanted, he could have easily have drawn their attention to the trickle, could have let them see the panic that flooded his lungs as he thought about Max’s symptoms when Vecna first started to target her. But what good would that have done? To have scared his friends when it was possible that it was just a regular nosebleed, just regular headaches, just regular nightmares? He wasn’t sure how he was supposed to know when they shifted into something else; Max had said something about reality changing, about having a conversation with her mom that had turned dramatically, making her act shifty for the rest of their car ride to Billy’s grave. Steve’s reality hadn’t changed yet. 

Steve shrugged, looking up at Robin across their plates. “You gonna eat or what?” Steve asked. Robin set her mouth, making it clear that she’d make a scene if he didn’t answer her soon. “Look,” he said, half-heartedly rolling his eyes. “There’s no reason to think they’re not normal nosebleeds–” “Bleeds? As in plural? Steve Harrington, you had better be–” Steve shushed her, waving his hands to bring Robin’s voice down. “This is only the second,” he said, and Robin’s eyes widened. “Two nosebleeds is normal! For all we know it’s some sort of delayed brain damage thing from being slammed to the ground by giant bat things.” Robin stared at him a second longer, then shook her head. “What about the nightmares?” She asked, finally picking up her silverware. Steve scoffed. “Normal nightmares.” They made eye contact, Steve self-assured and Robin angry. “No different than yours, I’m guessing.” At that, Robin blushed and shifted her focus back to her plate, cutting her food into fork-sized pieces. “Unless your nightmares are Vecna-fuel,” Steve said, his voice half-questioning as he raised his eyebrows, putting another forkful of eggs between his lips. Robin shook her head again. “Nope,” she said, voice falsely chipper. “Normal nightmares here, too.” 

The two of them finished their middle-of-the-night breakfasts, Steve paying before Robin had the time to pretend she’d get the bill. “So,” Robin said, as they walked to his car in the parking lot. “How many nosebleeds do we let you get to before we tell Nancy and the kids?” Steve flinched, slightly, at the sound of Nancy’s name. The last thing he wanted to do right now was give her another reason to pity him–he had caught her ataring at him too many times since they had come back from the Upside Down, her fingers interlocked with Jonathan’s as her eyebrows tucked together in concern. 

Steve didn’t know how often Nancy was watching him, but every time he caught her at it she’d dart her eyes away in the way that told him she was ashamed of herself for looking at him like that, like he was someone she needed to keep safe instead of the other way around. She’d caught him, once, on the porch of Hopper’s cabin, silent tears tracking over his face after someone had mentioned Eddie’s name and the cabin had fallen silent. There had been a few beats of nervous shifting, eyes not quite meeting, before Dustin had made a half-hearted attempt at a joke and conversation had resumed. Steve had stepped outside, avoiding giving excuses, and stood on the porch, unlit cigarette between his lips and lighter in his hands. He had stared at the woods, flicking the lighter on and off until the metal started to heat, singing the pad of his thumb just slightly. When the door opened, Steve had swiped at his face quickly, yanking the still-unlit cigarette out from between his lips before Robin could do it for him, and turned to see Nancy. She had stared at him, her lips dropped in a perfect “o” of surprise, her eyes wide as her head tilted. Steve had stuck the cigarette in his shirt pocket, jokingly telling Nancy not to snitch to the kids, and gone back inside immediately. He couldn’t stomach the idea of seeing that look on her face again. 

“We don’t tell Nancy until it’s bad,” Steve said, tossing his car keys in the air and catching them as they fell. “And when is it bad?” Robin asked. He looked at her, their eyes meeting across the hood of his car. An idea occurred to him as he looked at her. “Hey Rob,” Steve asked, avoiding answering her question. “Wanna have a sleepover with me?” Robin’s mouth pulled into a half-grimace of surprise and confusion, her eyes narrowing. “I’m gay, Harrington,” she said, and Steve laughed, a genuine belly-laugh like he hadn’t had in days. “Come on,” he said, opening his door. “Maybe, between the two of us, we can actually manage a full eight hours.” 

Robin insisted on going back to her house first, saying she had to leave a note for her parents on the off-chance they looked for their daughter before leaving for work. She had come back to Steve’s car with an oversized tote bag, stuffed with clothes and toiletries. Steve had teased her, telling her his parents had more than enough tiny bottles of toothpaste and face wash in the guest bathroom that she could help herself to, and she had laughed, insisting that she was going to clean out the Harrington’s overpriced product horde. When they had gotten to Steve’s house, he had opened the door–Robin reprimanding him for leaving it unlocked as he shrugged–and she had immediately disappeared into the bathroom, emerging in a Hawkins Band t-shirt and too-long shorts. “Rob,” Steve had said, pulling a grimace. “You look like a man.” “Good,” She had spat at him, throwing herself on the couch and grabbing the too-plush blanket his mother insisted on keeping folded on the back. She picked up the remote from the coffee table, pressing buttons until she got the TV on then clicking through channels. “Come on, Harrington,” Robin had called, and Steve had slid on to the end of the couch, picking her feet up to drop them in his lap as he stretched out. She had made it about twenty minutes before drifting off to sleep, and Steve had turned the TV off, choosing to sit in silence and darkness until the light coming through the windows lightened. 

When Robin woke up, Steve faked a yawn, stretching his arms. “See?” He asked. “Slept better with someone else around, didn’t you?” Robin, eyes red and bleary, nodded half-heartedly. “What about you?” She asked. “Slept like a baby,” he said, standing up. That was a lie, of course. Steve couldn’t sleep, even with Robin right there. He felt better with her around, sure, but it was because it gave him a sense of purpose for those long, dark hours. He had to stay up if she was sleeping because he was keeping her safe; if something happened to her while they were both asleep, he’d never forgive himself. He couldn’t let two of his friends die. Robin stood up, tossing the blanket in a crumpled heap on the floor. “Jesus, my neck,” she sighed, rubbing her limbs. “Good thing I’m not old like you,” she said, shooting Steve a grin as he exclaimed in disgust. “I’m using your shower, Harrington.” She tossed the words over her shoulder, grabbing her bag from the foot of the stairs and disappearing. Steve stood up, unsure what to do with himself. Deciding to make another pot of coffee, he wandered into the kitchen to reset the machine. 

He was pouring his first cup of the day–the actual day, with the sun up–when Robin came into the kitchen. She had put on oversized jeans and a collared shirt like Steve’s mom used to buy him from the Gap, and her hair was still damp–but Steve’s eyes fell to her hands immediately. She was carrying his yearbook, her finger holding the place in it. Before she even set it down on the counter, letting the heavy leather fall open on either side, Steve knew it would fall to Eddie’s first senior portrait, the exact place he had left it open on his dresser. Robin looked at the page, letting her fingers slide down the page. When she looked up at Steve, he was only slightly surprised to see the tears in her eyes. “Normal nightmares, huh?” She asked, her voice breaking on the last word. Steve felt his throat tightening, His eyes burned, tears flooding the dry, sleepless sockets as he stared at her. “I–” he stammered, the lump in his throat burning. He wasn’t sure what he wanted to say, but it wasn’t what he finally choked out: “I killed him, Robs, I know I did.” When she covered the last few steps separating the two of them, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and holding him too-tightly, Steve finally let himself break down, really break down like he had been fighting off doing since Dustin and Max had suggested that Chrissy Cunningham’s death might not be natural, might be a sign that this shit wasn’t really over, might never really be over. His hair fell over his face, his face burying itself into Robin’s shoulder, dimly aware of the smell of his own soap on her skin and the roughness of her shirt against his raw cheeks as he sobbed. “I think part of me died with him, Robin,” he choked, heaving sobs contorting his throat as she squeezed his shoulder tighter.

When he had calmed down, slowing his breathing enough to finally quiet the sobs that had felt like they were shattering his ribs as they wracked his body, Robin had led him back to the couch, shoving him lightly to make him sit down. She had sat beside him, wrapping her arm around his shoulders. “Stevie,” she whispered. “If you let yourself take the blame for…for Eddie,” her voice broke slightly and she cleared her throat, “You’re setting yourself up for Vecna. That same kind of thinking about Billy is what made Max his target.” Steve just shook his head, refusing to hear her words. “My fault, Robs,” he choked out. Robin sighed, deep and heavy. “I wish you would listen to us when we tell you it’s not,” she said. Steve shook his head again, and Robin swallowed hard. “Fine. Then we’re going to have to be prepared for the worst.” “No,” Steve said, pushing back to look at her. “We are not telling the rest of them about this, or about the nosebleeds, or any of it.” Robin looked at him, blinking slowly. “Okay,” she said, gauging the way his face softened as she agreed. “Then we’re going to need a walkman and your favorite tape.” 

Steve already had both, of course. 

Chapter Six here!

[withacapitalp]

How to Rehabilitate a Jock Pt 4

Okay first of all Here's the aok3 link for anyone who missed it!

Secondly I'm going to let you all know that unfortunately I'm not going to be taking any more tags on this. I've crossed 200 and I am so so grateful for you all, but it's going to be impossible to keep up with them. If you want to stay updated, subscribe on ao3, follow me here, or check the tag 'Steve Joins Hellfire AU' I think I'm the only one using it? If I missed taking you off, I'm so sorry just let me know again it's been totally crazy wrangling this list!

Part 1 here Part 3 here Part 5

Rest of fic and tags under read more!

When the rest finally got used to Steve watching them from over Eddie’s shoulder, the meeting was fairly uneventful. Steve would occasionally interject with a hesitant question, and Eddie would pause every so often to explain something when he noticed confusion on the other boy’s face, but overall it was almost like he wasn’t even there. 

Well, almost like he wasn’t even there for everyone else. 

For Eddie, it was two and a half hours of pure torture. 

Steve had started off a polite distance away from Eddie, clearly only observing. But, as the game progressed, their chairs inched closer and closer together until Eddie’s arm was pressed up against Steve’s, and their heads were knocking together as they pushed in close. 

All of their words were hushed and soft, gentle in a way that no one else would have expected from Steve Harrington. But the quiet snickers Steve let slip whenever Eddie did something particularly dastardly made every thought race out of his head. 

“There’s a lurking sense of impending doom as your party approaches the fiery gate. You each feel a foreboding chill race up your spines when you hear a monstrous roar echoing in the distance. Gather your party, and decide as one what you will do at this point,” Eddie growled out, watching with glee as the rest of them raced to the other side of the room and huddled together to exchange tense whispers.

As the rest of the club continued to strategize, Eddie sat back in his chair, folding his hands behind his head and letting loose a long indulgent sigh. 

Sure, he wasn’t the smartest person in the room, or the best athlete, but Eddie was good at this. He was good at this the same way he was good with a guitar, or with his hands stuck deep in the engine of a car. There was a thrilling sort of joy in doing something that he knew he excelled at, knowing he wasn’t going to fail, or not measure up, and that feeling was enough to give him the courage to turn to the boy next to him. 

“You likin’ it so far?” Eddie asked Steve, thoroughly enjoying the immediate eager nod that came before he even finished his question. 

“It’s really cool actually! I wasn’t expecting to have this much fun,” Steve said sitting cross legged in his chair and holding onto his ankles. 

It should have felt like backhanded compliments. Steve’s words should have offended him. If anyone else had said it, if any other jock had said it, then Eddie would be up in arms, defensive and bitter. 

But it was Steve, and Eddie was kind of already a goner for his big brown eyes and goofy sweet smile. All he heard was ‘cool’ and ‘fun’ and his brain put two and two together to create embarrassed happiness that flooded his every vein. 

Eddie pulled a lock of his hair over his face to hide the stupid grin that was on his face, chewing on the ring on his middle finger as he tried to pretend he wasn’t ridiculously pleased that Steve was having a good time. 

“Well, just wait till they get past this gate. If they get past this gate,” Eddie amended after a brief pause, busying himself with fixing his papers and pretending to be busy, “I have some pretty crazy things planned,”

“I’m sure you do,” 

The sentence was barely a murmur, four mumbled words that came on a puff of hot air that tickled the back of Eddie’s ear. A warm heavy presence settled itself right behind Eddie as Steve leaned up to read over his shoulder. Now it was Eddie’s turn to feel something racing down his spine, but it definitely wasn’t foreboding. 

Damn. 

Eddie’s face flushed deep red, and he pulled away, standing up and pretending to cough as he tried and failed to pull himself together. 

“Are you sure you’re alright? That’s the fifth time you’ve had to cough,” Steve pointed out from behind him. Eddie tossed a thumbs up haphazardly, cursing himself. 

Eddie had been forced to pretend to cough multiple times, just to turn away to try and hide the blush on his cheeks as Steve said or did something that made his entire body turn to jelly. The rest of the club hadn’t been fooled a bit, but Steve had started getting concerned after the second fake out. 

“Eddie’s just fine,” Janet said with a smirk, popping her head out of the huddle just to be an ass. 

Eddie continued to fake cough, sticking up his middle finger at her from where he was sure Steve wouldn’t see. He loved his friends, but honestly? Fuck his friends. 

“Maybe your throat is dry,” Steve offered, standing up and walking over to his backpack and starting to root around in it, “You have been doing a lot of talking,” 

“Yeah, talking is the issue here,” Rocky snarked as the rest of the group came back to the table, each of them wearing shit eating grins that made Eddie know he was in for the teasing of a lifetime the next time they were alone. 

“Well, regardless of why, you need to hydrate,” Steve replied, walking back over and holding out a water bottle to Eddie. 

The entire group instantly began to smother down their laughter. Even Gareth, who had stayed mad the entire fucking time, was hiding a smile behind his hand. Eddie screwed up his face into a completely unamused pout.

“Did I uh- did I miss something?” Steve asked, a sad puppy dog look of bewilderment on his features, sending Eddie's heart into overdrive.  He began to pull his hand back, but Eddie quickly intervened. 

“Thank you Steve,” Eddie emphasized, snatching the water bottle and taking a greedy sip. Water dribbled out of his mouth and down his throat, staining his shirt, “At least someone is worried about my precious, precious, voice,”

“You’re the lead of a metal band, Ed,” Jeff pointed out with a roll of his eyes, “Excuse us for not being too worried about what a few hours of DMing might do to that, oh so precious voice,”

Everyone else chuckled at this, even Steve. Eddie was caught between being annoyed at being teased, and elated at the prospect of the rest of the group starting to accept his ‘pet jock’. He waited until they were quiet before sitting back down, placing the bottle next to his papers and spreading his thighs wide. He placed both palms on his knees, leaning down and giving all of them a corrupted sneer.

“Have you decided what you want to do, travelers?” He asked, getting back into character. 

“We decided…that it’s almost 5:00, so we should pack it up,” Frank said with an exaggerated long pause, the rest exchanging slightly tired nods. Eddie straightened up, dropping the act.

“Seriously?” Eddie said, not exactly whining, but definitely disappointed. This was always what happened. If Eddie had his way, they would go until the sun rose for the next day, but the rest could only handle a few hours of this after eight hours of school. 

He was going to continue, try and talk them into at least another half hour, but before he could, Steve spoke up.

“Um, I actually have to go too,” He admitted, glancing at his watch and giving Eddie a conciliatory shrug. 

“Meeting up with your basketball buddies?” Gareth asked, still acting like a venomous snake. 

“No, we…we don’t really talk anymore,” Steve said, the long pause betraying the long story that hid behind his words, “I’m driving my kids home from AV club,” 

“That’s a point in his favor,” Rocky pointed out, the rest of Hellfire immediately turning on him with fierce glares. 

“Rocky,” Eddie snapped, unable to help himself. Steve gave him another confused glance, and Eddie waved it off, silently giving the rest a look. The group began to pack up in earnest, filling up the room with chatter and drowning out the potential pitfall that their youngest member had almost landed them in.

“Have the kids been waiting for you this whole time?” Eddie asked, slightly desperate to change the subject before Steve could speak any of the questions that were clearly starting to form. 

“Nah, they would be climbing the walls by now,” Steve said, shaking his head and fondly smiling to himself, “They’re not exactly the most patient group of people.”

“Our next meeting will be next Wednesday,” Eddie called out over the din. Frank saluted him as he walked out, Janet trailing close to him and disappearing next. 

“What’d you think, Steve?” Kaiden asked. 

“You guys argue a lot less than my kids do. They’re always fighting with Mike- oh uh the dungeon master?” Steve offered, apparently dropping the concern he had. 

The last sentence was phrased more like a question than a statement, so Eddie nodded along, continuing to put away his binders with care, making sure none of the group could sneak a peek at what was to come the next time they met. 

“If we argued with Eddie, he would only kill us faster,” Jeff said with a chuckle. 

“You’ll see when you’re on this side of the table,” Kaiden added, shouldering his backpack, “Maybe next week?” 

Steve opened his mouth to reply, but Gareth beat him to it. 

“We haven’t finished the campaign,” He stated bluntly, refusing to look any of them in the eye as he roughly tugged on the zipper of his bag, “We can’t just stop in the middle because a- because someone new decided to show up.”

The brightness on Steve’s features dimmed a little, and his smile went from natural to forced. Eddie bit his tongue to keep the immediate scathing remark at bay, working his jaw back and forth and letting his fingers drum along the table. 

As much as he wanted to jump to Steve’s aid (and remind Gareth exactly who was running this club) Eddie knew that it would be better in the long run to let Steve establish himself in the group and fight his own battles. If Eddie let himself get too defensive, then suspicions would start to rise, and the rest would only ever see Steve as ‘Eddie’s’ and not ‘theirs’. 

Still, it hurt to watch his best friend- a boy he had only ever known to be generous and kind- completely reject Steve on the principle of who he thought he was. 

Gareth was supposed to be better than that. They all were. 

“Welllllll, I guess I’ll have plenty of time to come up with a cool character then,” Steve said with a shrug. His nonchalant tone wasn’t exactly faked, but there was a tension in his shoulders that seemed painful. Eddie jerked his head towards the door, and the remaining members left as a group before anything else could go wrong. It was just him and Steve now. 

“Not too bad for your first time,” Eddie said with a soft grin, doing his best to smooth over the discomfort that had popped up in the last thirty seconds. 

“I’m not sure they were happy to have me there,” Steve shot back. Eddie was honestly kind of impressed with the bluntness of that, the way Steve didn’t seem afraid at all to confront the way they had all treated him. 

“They’ll warm up, I promise,” Eddie replied, trying to sound reassuring as they exited the room and started walking down the hall. 

The look Steve shot him from the side told Eddie everything he needed to know about how much he believed that promise. Eddie sighed loudly, wracking his brain for anything he could say that might help with this. 

“A cool character huh? Maybe your kids can help you with that,” He offered. Steve did smile at this, dipping his head low and trying to hide the dopey grin that was overtaking his face. 

“No way,” Steve said, his eyes quickly flitting to Eddie’s face before turning away, “If they found out I was playing DnD without them? I’d never hear the end of it.”

“So we’re your dirty little secret?” Eddie teased just as they reached the exit. Steve stopped, letting his hand sit on the handle. Eddie looked up at him curiously, only to find Steve was looking at him with complete and utter seriousness. 

“No,” Steve whispered, clearly contemplating his next words, “Not a secret. Just something that’s only mine,” 

Eddie didn’t know if it was the intensity of Steve’s gaze, or the mystery of the words that made him pause, but he hesitated. Something about it all just felt…significant. He needed to say the right thing here. 

Or, at least try to say the right thing. 

“Well, let’s keep it just yours for a while then. Sound good, sweetheart?” 

That was the wrong thing. It had started as the right thing, but that was without a doubt the wrong fucking thing. Eddie with his stupid big fat mouth and idiotic crush. Steve was definitely not coming back. Hell, he might never talk to Eddie ever again. 

A soft chuckle dragged him slowly out of his misery. He looked up, watching as Steve leaned his head back, a gleeful look of joy brightening up even the darkest parts of Eddie’s mind. 

“Sounds perfect,” Steve replied, still smiling. He ducked his head down, and Eddie entertained the wild notion that he might’ve even been blushing for two seconds, before banishing that thought from his mind. He had already played the odds enough today, he didn’t need to risk any more. 

“I could walk you over to the Middle School if you wanted, my liege?” Eddie said, instantly cringing at how overeager that question made him sound. 

“I think I can take care of myself, oh wise dungeon master,” Steve smirked, pushing the door open. 

A sharp blast of the cold November air smacked them both in the face, and Eddie scanned the empty lot. His own van was parked in one corner, and Steve’s beemer was in the other. 

And, standing around said Beemer, was a group of tiny humans. 

“Apparently, going to the middle school isn’t even necessary,” Steve sighed, shaking his head. 

“Steve!” One of the kids shouted, sliding off the hood of the car when he spotted the teen heading towards them. As soon as the boy said his name, the entire horde was scampering over, all of them talking at the same time. 

Steve had told him that he babysat. He had said it multiple times, in fact. 

But Steve saying it, and Eddie seeing five middle schoolers all clamoring for Steve’s attention were two very different things. They were pulling on his hands, tapping on his arms, and the one girl even jumped right on his back without warning. Steve caught her easily, but shot a dirty look at her from the side. 

“Where have you been?!” She shouted above the rest. 

Steve opened his mouth, but the other kids beat him to it. 

“We’ve been out here for ten minutes! Ten! Minutes!” One of the boys added. He was a sweet looking kid, tons of curly hair hidden under a big cap, but he had his hands on his hips and was shaking his head with a disappointed little tut

“Wow, ten whole minutes, Henderson. How did you guys ever survive?” Steve asked, sarcasm flooding every word. He adjusted his grip on the little red haired one and turned to Eddie to roll his eyes.

Eddie couldn’t even make a joke or say anything back, he was too shocked by the reality of Babysitter Steve Harrington. 

“You weren’t answering your walkie,” Another snapped. He was the only one that looked genuinely angry, giving Steve a withering glare, “It’s a Party Rule,” 

“It’s in my bag, Mike,” Steve explained, exasperated, “I was busy. Max, get down, you’re strangling me. Oh, and Lucas, how was your algebra test?” 

The first kid to have spoken up, ‘Lucas’ apparently, began to chat with him, the rest of he boys jumping in and interrupting in normal middle schooler fashion. ‘Max’ did as she was bid while Steve checked in with the rest. She hopped down, looking around bored for a minute before her eyes finally landed on Eddie, who had walked over silently, his hands deep in his pockets.

“Who’s this guy?” 

Eddie opened his mouth to say the words ‘dungeon master’, but he remembered just before he started to speak. 

He was ‘something that was only Steve’s’. Steve didn’t want to share him just yet, and the rush of pleasure that came from that wasn’t worth the glee that would come from watching Steve have to explain that he was playing Dungeons and Dragons without them. 

Eddie slowly shut his mouth and gave Steve a wink above the kids, letting him do the explaining. 

“Just a friend,” 

It wasn’t much of an explanation, but Steve wasn’t done. 

“C’mon, we can get McDonalds on the way home,” Steve added, offering the perfect distraction. 

Instantly chaos reigned again. They all began to shout their orders, running towards the car and yelling at Steve to hurry up. 

“Could we maybe get some for El?” One of the kids asked, walking much slower than the rest. Eddie wasn’t sure who ‘El’ was, but he did recognize this boy. He was pretty sure everyone in Hawkins knew who Will Byers was.

“Good idea,” Steve agreed, ruffling Will’s hair and pulling the kid in as he began to walk away. He turned back for a second and caught Eddie’s eye, giving him a tiny secretive little smile. 

“See you later, Alligator?”

“I guess this is where we part ways,”

“I guess…”

“See you later, Alligator?”

The memory hit Eddie like a truck, nearly bowling him over with its force. Steve was still standing there, still waiting for the answer he was sure was coming. This was where Eddie was supposed to pretend. He was supposed to just say ‘In a while, Crocodile,” walk away, and go home, pretending like those words didn’t matter. 

But he couldn’t. He just…couldn’t. 

Eddie lifted his hand and waved, turning around and walking to his van before he could see how Steve reacted. 

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[truefangirl-13]

I feel like as a fandom there’s not enough talk about how Steve Harrington definitely has a care package put together for when one of the female party members starts their period. Stocked with everything from pads to information pamphlets. Ready to go in a moments notice.

[italiansteebie]

sometimes the kids want to go do something, but steve is low on money, and energy.

so he takes them to the costco food court.

unfortunately, it becomes a weekly activity, and steve has to renew his membership.

[thehollylujah]

Munson?

Summary: Steve is rebuilding slowly after everything that has happened, trying desperately to ignore the looming threat of Vecna. He finally began to accept that Eddie’s gone, no matter what he realized his heart felt. Unless he’s not.

Even though this isn’t technically NSFW, I still don’t want people under 16 interacting.

Warnings: panic attacks, coming to terms with sexuality, death, brief mention of blood.

This is really just the buildup to Steddie content. I’m not good with writing slow burn, but that kinda feels like where this is going. Sorry to anyone who just wants smut. Me too.

He jerked awake, eyes snapping open, his hands reaching out to grab for anything to give some indication he wasn't wrapped in Vecna's vines. He felt his palm come in contact with a figure wrapped in a quilt, and remembered with a jolt where he was.

Robin jerked as his hand hit her hip and quickly sat up, reaching to turn the lamp on on the bedside table. 

Steve felt a wave of relief wash over him as his room at his house was illuminated, the singular lightbulb casting shadows all throughout the room.

"Nightmare?" Robin stretched, yawning softly as she waited for his reply.

Steve nodded, the adrenaline from the dream still pumping through his body.

"You wanna talk about it?" Steve turned to her, blood still rushing in his ears. Her hair was half up, half down, coming out of he ponytail and sticking in every direction. He shrugged, shifting back to rest against his headboard, head thumping against his wall, willing her to stop looking at him with the concern and empathy always etched into her features after nights like this.

"The vines one. I always feel like I can't breathe when that one happens."

Robin sighed, joining him, pressing her side to his. "I think that's what a professional would call a panic attack."

Steve huffed, the phantom feeling of the vines tightening around his throat returning for a millisecond. They sat in silence, Steve willing his heart to slow, listening to Robin's slow and languid breathing as she dozed, head resting on his shoulder.

"I need to get up and walk, I'll be back." He nudged her head up with his shoulder, throwing the covers off of him. Robin huffed, sitting up straighter before resting her head against the wall. Steve felt a rush of cold air against his legs, forcing another wave of consciousness to roll through his body.

"Won't go to sleep until you're back, but you know that." Steve nodded, blinking the remaining sleep from his eyes as he exited his room.

He found his feet leading him downstairs, mind racing back to the past two week.

He and Robin had been staying together, both for comfort during bad nights and to carpool together to the school gym to help with the community effort to rebuild. His house had remained miraculously untouched by the tears in Hawkins, so it became a place for not only Robin to stay, but any of the kiddos who needed to get away.

Dustin had taken the offer immediately, comedically crawling out of his window most nights at midnight to join Robin, Steve, and whatever kiddos were left to watch movies on the DVR and eat as much shitty food as they could to ignore the looming upside down and Vecna around them. 

Steve was rocketed back to the night the world split open, finding Dustin sitting right beside the tear in the ground, right where Eddie's trailer had stood. He had curled into a ball as he sobbed and screamed for Eddie, clutching his guitar pick necklace so hard it had begun to draw blood. Steve had had to pick Dustin up and carry him back to his house, fighting his own tears at the idea that Eddie was dead, his body still left to rot in the upside down.

It had taken them days to get everyone back where they needed to be. Nancy and Mike had to leave their house, and Lucas rarely left Max's side at the hospital, much to his parents displeasure. It had taken a day for Dustin to finally calm down enough to return to his parents, still refusing to let go of Eddie's pick necklace. But once Steve was able to finally relax for even a moment, he sat down with Robin.

He remembers the emotions roiling in his gut as he told her everything through tears, guilt and fury burning in his chest. He had broken down, the understanding that Eddie was gone finally settling on him like a thousand pounds.

He told her about his first feelings for a guy, the shame of somehow being attracted to both Johnathan and Nancy. The return of that same feeling with the 'Freak of Hawkins'. How he had tried to tamp it down, ignore it in favor of shoving himself back into dating any girl that would give him the time of day.

She had listened patiently, her normal quick banter and jabs at him disappearing like fog in the sun.

When he had finished, frozen in fear of her response, she had simply stood and hugged him, letting him breathe out a wet sob before crying into her shoulder. 

He still sometimes couldn't rationalize that Eddie was gone, body left on the ground, torn apart by Demobats. His brain could not rationalize that he was here one moment and gone the next.

He was snapped out of his morbid train of thought when he heard a soft patter of footsteps in his kitchen. He stiffened, throat tightening up.

"Dustin? That you?"

No response. A cold crept up his spine as he inched forward, hand reaching for whatever he could find to fend off whatever was in his kitchen. 

His hands wrapped around his bat, propped up at the end of his stairs, and he hefted it up as he inched forward into the kitchen. He turned the corner, ready to swing.

And came face to face with Eddie Munson.

 Steve's guard dropped for a moment, brows furrowing as he took in Eddie. Blood was smeared on his face and his hair was wild, his eyes bloodshot and a feral look etched into his features.

"Munson?"

He didn't have time to react before hands were around his chest, wrapping around his torso as Eddie lunged towards him, hitting him so hard he had to rock back to keep himself from falling over.

His voice sounded ragged and soft. "Steve?"

[master-of-hellfire]

POV: Scrolling through Steve Harrington’s camera roll