#claudia henderson fic

[loveinhawkins]

For a few weeks, Claudia thinks that she’s collecting her son from the hospital after he’s visited Max Mayfield.

Then she finds out that’s only partly the truth.

Usually Dustin’s already waiting in the parking lot for her, Steve by his side. They chat, Steve insisting that he could drive Dustin home, it’s no trouble, and Claudia thanks him for the offer, kindly refuses; the poor boy looks run ragged these days.

One day neither of them are there, so she heads inside. There’s still a long line at reception, the aftermath of the earthquake, so she finds a nurse in a corridor, describes Dustin—my boy, about this high, curly hair (smiles like the sun, she wants to add)—and the nurse smiles, says, “Follow me, ma’am.”

She has a passing thought that this isn’t the direction to Max’s room, but reasons that she must’ve been moved. The nurse leaves her at the door before being called away.

Claudia opens the door quietly.

It’s not Max who’s in the bed.

She recognises him from the posters—his eyes first, then his long hair. He’s holding a battered copy of The Hobbit, the spine broken, and he’s reading so softly that she can’t quite make out the words.

And there, lying so peacefully against Eddie Munson’s shoulder, is Dustin. He’s fast asleep.

Eddie’s got an arm around him, and he’s slowly running his fingers through Dustin’s hair the way she used to when he was little, to help him drift off.

He looks up from his book at the sound of her entering the room, and his face goes as white as the bedsheets.

She takes one step forward.

Eddie inhales, breath stuttering, and it’s a fragile, heartbreaking sound.

Dustin stirs. “Hmm? Wha’s wrong?” He lifts his head up from Eddie’s shoulder, and his eyes meet Claudia’s, and he’s suddenly wide awake, scrabbling upright. “Mom.”

Eddie’s mouth keeps moving, like he’s desperately searching for words. “I-I’m not—” His breathing catches again, eyes wide; Claudia realises, with a heavy heart, that he’s deeply afraid of her. “It’s just a stupid board game, I swear.”

“Mom,” Dustin says again. Pleading.

And of course, Claudia never once believed the frenzied cries about Satanic rituals. Still, throughout that awful Spring Break, knowing that her son was lying to her, all she could think was that she was once a teenager, too—remembered how easy it could be to get caught up in something scary, something beyond your control.

She looks into Eddie Munson’s eyes, and knows deep in her bones that she has nothing to fear from him.

She beckons Dustin over, hands him the car keys.

“There’s a pillow on your seat, hon,” she says softly, because there’s a sleepy haze returning to his eyes despite his obvious concern for Eddie.

Dustin blinks, so unsure.

She smiles reassuringly. It’s okay. I promise.

“Okay,” Dustin says slowly, and he looks back at Eddie, raising his eyebrows like he wants to convince him of something. “See you tomorrow, Eddie.”

Eddie nods, but doesn’t speak.

He lifts his hand in a weak wave as Dustin leaves. It’s shaking. Claudia sits down by the bed. Puts her hand in his.

Eddie stares at her.

“I’m so sorry,” she says. “I’m so sorry for what we did to you.”

Eddie shakes his head, like he can’t believe what he’s hearing. “You didn’t—” He clears his throat. “It wasn’t you.”

Claudia shakes her head, too, slowly—prays that he can really hear this. “No, no, please. Listen to me. I’m so sorry.”

It would be an easy thing to say, that the town of Hawkins wronged Eddie Munson. But that would make it sound so impersonal: like it was inevitable, just one of these tragic things that happened, nothing to be done about it. Like earthquakes.

But that wasn’t true. People were behind this, and Claudia knows that they are all the town, every single one of them. And what did it say about them, that the fear and mistrust and cruelty spread like wildfire? That not one adult in the town hall stood up, begged people to stop, to think again?

“Th-thank you,” Eddie says. It sounds so uncertain, almost like a question.

Claudia squeezes his hand. “You were with Dustin, weren’t you?” she asks. “When the earthquake…”

His hand is shaking again.

“Yes,” he whispers. “I-I’m sorry, I—” He swallows. “I didn’t want a-anything to happen to him.”

“Oh, honey.” She reaches out cautiously, and when he doesn’t freeze up, she cups his cheek; her heart breaks at the rough indent of a scar beneath her palm. “You’re not God.”

Eddie reaches up, pressing her hand further against his cheek. He’s crying.

Claudia wipes his tears away as much as she can. She keeps up a steady murmur: “Shh, shh. I know you kept him as safe as you could. I know, I know. Shh.”

When he starts to calm, she thanks him again, but for something lighter.

“Dusty… he was so nervous, starting high school. But his first day, when I picked him up, all he could talk about was getting invited to have lunch with… well, a club.” Claudia smiles. “Oh, he was talking a mile a minute, I could hardly keep up. But I… oh, Eddie, I understand now. That was you.”

Eddie grins back. His cheeks are still wet.

“I didn’t do much,” he says. “You’ve…” For a moment, his eyes fill up again, but they look like happy tears. “You’ve got some kid, Mrs Henderson. He’s—he’s a real gem.”

She laughs. “Oh, I know.”

It’s one of the many things she loves about Dustin: that he’s always been so unashamedly, so joyously himself.

And Eddie had clearly seen that in him, had taken him in and nurtured everything that made him so.

The door abruptly slams open.

Steve’s in the doorway; he must’ve been running, is still gasping for breath as he says, panicked, “Claudia, I can—”

“Steve,” Eddie says softly, and that’s all.

But it’s clearly enough, because Steve’s shoulders drop in relief, and then he’s shutting the door, coming to Eddie’s bedside like he belongs there, and Eddie’s smiling at him, so tenderly…

And oh, she was young, once. She knows what she’s looking at.

Of course, she doesn’t mention it, can still sense some residual anxiety radiating from them.

Instead she looks around the room, spots a pile of laundry in the corner. It’s been stuffed into a bag; she recognises that as belonging to Steve, but there’s some shirts in there that are definitely Eddie’s, entwined with Steve’s things.

She stands, but before she can even pick up the bag, it seems like Steve’s read her mind, because he’s stepping forward, stopping her with a touch to her forearm.

“Oh, you don’t have to—I’m taking care of it, Claudia.”

She pats his cheek, lingers there until he smiles. “I know, sweetheart. But… would you let me? It’s the least I can do.”

Eddie reaches up from the bed, squeezes Steve’s elbow. Steve sighs, briefly leaning into him.

“Okay,” he says. “That’s… thank you.”

“As long as you do one thing for me.”

“Of course,” Steve says immediately. “Anything.”

Claudia brings out a notepad and pen from her bag. “Write me a list? Anything you’d like, I’ll be shopping anyway.” She looks Steve in the eyes, adds firmly but with a smile, “It’s no trouble.”

Steve takes the notepad, twirls the pen hesitantly.

“Anything you’d like,” Claudia repeats. She glances at Eddie, says, “You know, if you want a different shampoo than what they have here, things like that, or—”

“Oh, uh, it’s okay,” Eddie says quickly. “Whatever’s on sale is—”

“I know, honey,” Claudia says patiently, “but what would you actually like?”

The last extended hospital stay she’d had was fifteen years ago; Dustin had been a preemie, and one of the few things that kept her calm was the familiar: scents, food, people…

Steve chuckles. “I’ve got it.” He writes on the notepad, and Eddie must be able to read it, because he suddenly turns a little pink.

“How did you know that?”

Steve shrugs, smiles. “I notice things.” He writes down just a couple more things, then hands the list back. “Thank you so much, Claudia.”

“Any time, sweetie, I mean it.” She hugs Steve goodbye, then reaches one last time for Eddie’s hand on the bedspread. “It was lovely to meet you, Eddie. Hope you can go home soon.”

“Yeah, me—me too. Thank you, Mrs Hend—” Steve squeezes Eddie’s shoulder, and Eddie stops. Smiles. “Thank you, Claudia.”

She looks back once to shut the door behind her. Steve’s pulling up a chair, as close as he can get, and as the door closes, she hears him tut softly, gently swiping at the remaining trail of tears on Eddie’s face: “Hey, what—?”

They look like they belong together. Dustin’s boys.

Dustin’s asleep in the car, pillow pressed against the window. Claudia puts the bag of laundry in the trunk before quietly slipping into her seat.

Dustin wakes anyway as they drive out of the parking lot. “Eddie… okay?”

“He is, honey. Steve’s with him.”

“Mm… good.” There’s a pause, and Claudia thinks he’s fallen asleep again, but then he says, tentative, “Mom?”

“Yes, Dusty?”

“If I tell you something… d’you promise to keep it private?”

“As long as it’s not hurting anyone.”

“It’s not,” Dustin says firmly. “Um. Steve and Eddie, I think… I think they’re…”

Claudia smiles, nods encouragingly. “Oh, that’s lovely.”

Dustin hums in agreement. “They’ve not told me. Did I… do something wrong?”

“No, baby. You just keep doing what you’re doing.” Claudia feels a lump in her throat. “You’re a good friend.”

Dustin makes an uncertain noise.

“You are, baby. They love you very much, you know that, right?”

“Yeah.” Dustin sighs. “I know.” His eyes are closing.

“Sorry, baby, just before you sleep—are there any candies Steve and Eddie like?”

Dustin nods. “Eddie likes anything sweet. An’ Steve…” He yawns. “Anything w’peanut butter.”

“Great. Thank you, honey.”

Dustin’s already asleep.

Claudia knows that even with what she’s learned today, she still only has half a story, if that. That there’s something more to Dustin’s exhaustion, to just how Eddie ended up in a hospital bed.

Today, she’ll do all she can. It’s not a lot, but it’s something. Laundry and shopping, reading the brand of shampoo Steve wrote with a careful eye. She’ll fill her cart up with treats, things that won’t solve anything; they might make staying in that hospital room just a little easier, though. Make it feel a little warmer, a little more like home.

But first, she’ll take her boy home; she’ll park the car as close to the front door as she can get, and when he doesn’t stir, she’ll run a hand through his hair, gently put him to bed.

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer Park Steve AU part 4

part 1 | part 2 | part 3

September

He doesn’t talk to the Munsons much. (Doesn’t talk to anyone, really, aside from his mom and Robin and that one older woman who keeps renting and returning Gone With The Wind as an excuse to leave her house.) He keeps his head down and his nose clean, doesn’t care to make friends with the neighbors; just wants to get by.

One day Eddie approaches their door, waving a gas bill that got mixed up in their mail, and Steve greets him pleasantly enough.

“Stab anyone today?”

“Eat glass, Harrington.”

So it goes.

Steve watches the world pass and the weather turn, lets the hours bleed into weeks and squeezes his eyes shut against the flashbacks when they threaten to overwhelm.

Things with his mom are weird.

They don’t really speak, preferring to shrug their way past each other with careful, tight-lipped nods, and his mom takes these pills the doctor gave her that keep her perfectly pleasant and calm. Silent. Physically present but not really here.

And he can’t imagine how it feels to be her: Florence Harrington, ripped from the comforts of the upper crust and left to rot in a tin can seven miles across town. She spends most of her time letting out weary little sighs as she swans from room to room, drifting like a shade on the banks of the River Styx. (He can make that reference now because Robin won’t shut up about mythology. “It’s so gay, Steve. The Greeks were literally so gay.”)

Anyway.

Shit’s weird with the kids, too. He still drives them around — lets them loiter at Family Video when it’s slow; hangs around when they need a ride to the arcade or the movies or the skating rink; and he’s still on the hook for ‘ice cream. for. life,’ so…

It’s just not the same.

Like. Not to be dramatic, but who the fuck is Steve Harrington without the house and the pool and the free-for-all fridge? Just some kid with a car and a bat and a punchable face. And he can barely afford to keep the car now, anyway, so pretty soon they won’t need him for that, either. They’ll learn to drive; they’ll get their own jobs. Maybe Lucas builds enough muscle to take over as the party tank.

Maybe it’s better if he shelfs himself now before they realize he’s become obsolete.

“Oh, my god, you’re being pathetic,” he groans to himself. His voice is muffled where he’s lying face down on the couch. Ridiculous behavior, because everything is fine; Steve is fine. In the grand scheme of things where there are monsters and melted corpses and all kinds of crazy, horrible shit?

Yeah.

He’s being obnoxious. It’s a lovely sunny Saturday afternoon with just the right Autumn breeze going — gentle but cool; long sleeve polo weather; his favorite kind — and he’s sitting inside throwing himself a pity party.

Fucking absurd.

…Five more minutes.

Just five more minutes, then he’s getting off this couch.

He gets to a minute and a half when he hears the crunch of tires against the gravel, the clanging of a little bell from the handlebar of a bike, and then:

“STEVE!!!”

And that’ll be Dustin, trying to bang the door off the hinges and piss off the whole park at the same time. Kid’s nothing if not a multitasker. Steve lets another aggrieved groan loose into the couch cushion.

His mom’s out with the car; the lights are all off. Maybe he can just play dead ‘til Dustin leaves? He loves the kid, he really does, but his left ear is full of static, and he just wants to fucking sleep. Or sulk. Or both.

“STEVEN CHRISTOPHER, I KNOW YOU’RE IN THERE.”

Jeeeeesus Christ. “Okay, chill,” Steve grumbles as he hauls himself upright and throws open the front door. His limbs feel like lead; there’s drool on his chin. “Wake the whole goddamn neighborhood, why don’t you?”

“It’s two in the afternoon.”

“Yeah, and half the people here work nights.”

“Oh-kayy,” Dustin drags out the word, “but you don’t.”

Ugh. Whatever. He’s not gonna be shamed by a toothless teenager for his depressing loser tendencies. “Did you need something?”

Steve scratches at his belly hair through his shirt, feels a muscle twinge in his shoulder and send a spark of nerve pain skittering up to the base of his skull.

Dustin either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care that Steve’s body is falling apart where he stands, because he just rolls his eyes and says, “Uh, yeah. I need to know why you’re avoiding everyone? Mom’s tried to invite you to dinner six times now.”

“I was working.”

“All six times?” Dustin glares. Steve feels a little pinned by it, feels guilt seeping through the cracks as he fidgets with his bad ear. This kid’s gonna be the scariest lawyer some day. “She’s worried.”

Goddammit.

Guilt squeezes hard behind his ribs; he knows Dustin uses his mom as a mouthpiece for the feelings he can’t express. “I’m fine,” he sighs, letting his eyes and voice go soft. “Honest.”

Dustin holds firm, gaze fierce and fists clenched. “Bullshit,” he insists.

“Man, don’t—”

“Bull. Shit.”

Suddenly, their impromptu interrogation gets interrupted by a crashing drum fill, a shriek of electric guitar as Munson’s van squeals into the lot. He’s blasting some melodramatic metal shit about wizards or whatever; Steve doesn’t know. He only knows that the skitter of nerve pain he felt is ramping up to a fullblown migraine now because this guy has to listen to his racket at full fucking volume, apparently, and isn’t this all just “fucking great.”

—

part 5

[nburkhardt]

I got a scene in my head and now it’s gotta be something.

Claudia Henderson took one look at Steve Harrington and decided he is hers. She looked at her Dusty and saw a matching determination and that was all it took.

In no time their guest bedroom is cleared out to only the essentials; a bed, nightstand, dresser and a desk. The closet gutted of the extra linen and other random things she stuffed in it. It’s a clean slate and perfect for her boy.

It does take her and Dusty a bit to get Steve comfortable enough to just have dinner and “Oh it’s too late for you to drive home, you can sleep here tonight, sweetie. It’s no trouble!” A few times and for her to convince him to bring over a few sets of clothes because “it’ll be easier to leave in the mornings you stay over, honey!” After another month of weekly dinners.

After only a few months of knowing this sweet boy, she sits him down one night while Dustin is in his bedroom for the night. She smiles at him, “Stevie, sweetie, I have something to want to ask you”

She knows it makes him freeze, sees it clear as day on his face. It makes her question yet again how his parents treated him, but instead of thinking of them she reaches over and squeezes his knee before grabbing his hand that’s been gripping his leg, “Nothing bad, I promise. There’s just something I’ve wanted to ask since the first day I met you. The minute I saw you, you’ve been my baby.” Her smile is watery, as his eyes widen.

“I didn’t want to scare you, but I really do see you as my son and since it’s been some time and you already have your room, I was thinking you move in, permanently.”

Steve’s eyes are glassy as his mouth drops, “Mrs. Henderson,” he grips her hand and blinks at her, it makes her shake her head amused at the name. Knowing he’s been unknowingly calling her Ma for a week now.

“It’s Ma, and you know it baby.” She gripped his hand back, “I love you Steve, and you belong here with me and Dusty.”

The only words to describe Steve right now is amazed and just well loved. He’s speechless and all he can do is nod as the tears finally break through and roll down his cheeks as he laughs breathlessly while falling into a hug.

— — line break — —

Two years, Starcourt burning down and a massive earthquake later and Steve has been a Henderson in everything but blood.

He packed up the last of his things and stared at his empty room in the quiet and lonely Harrington House before officially leaving that behind him. Since he never head from his parents, he didn’t bother contacting them. He’s technically an adult, he doesn’t need to speak to them.

There was no note left behind either.

Just shut all the lights off, left the keys on the kitchen table and walked away with the last of his things before getting in his car and driving to his home.

And he hasn’t heard from them since. Not that he cares much, he’s accepted that they left him and decided to never contact him.

He raised himself before Ma came along.

“Get outta here, Ma!” He laughs as he lightly pushes her out of the kitchen, “I promise I won’t burn down the kitchen! It was once and I’ve gotten better! You relax, I got dinner tonight!”

She laughs, rolls her eyes as well with a smile, “Honey, it’s okay, I-”

A knock interrupts her, they both look at the door. Twin confused looks on their faces, they look back at each other before Steve drops his arms and moves towards the door.

“You expecting anyone Ma?” He says as he unlocks the door, “I know I’m not” As he pulls open the door, his voices drops as he registers who he’s looking at.

Standing on their porch, in fancy clothes with looks of disappointment and anger on their faces is two people Steve hasn’t seen in years.

“Steven Harrington, why did I have to find out from our neighbors that you moved? How come when we get home not only is it true but you let the house go! The yard is a mess, the pool empty and your room is completely empty!” Cathleen Harrington crosses her arms with disbelief, “this is no way to act, mister”

Steve blinks at her, glances at his fath- at Richard Harrington and sees disinterest and anger on his face. Then he looks back at Cathleen, at his birth mother, and no longer feels anything towards them.

“I’m not trying to act, I moved to be with my family, be with people who wanted me. So I really don’t care how that house looks, and you found out from neighbors because why should I contact you? You never contacted me” he spits out bitterly, refusing to match their crossed arms.

Cathleen gasps and her eyes widen, before anger comes back in seconds, her eyes glaring. “That is no way to speak to your mother, Steven!”

“You’re NOT my mother,” he glared fiercely back, “You left me, you abandoned me! I was your child and you never came home.” He spat at them, “You have no right to call yourself my mother.”

He doesn’t bother waiting for them to say anything back before closing the door and taking a deep breath. Flinching when he feels Ma’s hand take his and pulls him towards her and into a hug, his arms automatically curling around her. Hiding his head in her shoulder as the realization of relief rushes in him.

“Oh baby, I’m so proud of you” she whispers to him, squeezing him.

“I love you Ma, thank you for wanting me”

She shakes her head, her eyes watering as she pulls away to press her lips gently against his forehead, “no no, Stevie, thank you for being my baby. I love you so much, baby”

What do you mean I decided to write this based off a passing thought of the Harringtons to find out their house is not being used, that I was in the middle of working and went “that’s gotta be written!!” And proceeded to write how Claudia basically kidnapped Steve??? That definitely didn’t just happen. Anyway, I know like two people will read this (my loves I see you) and I think I’m rambling. I’m a tiny bit high.

Hope this was entertaining and not rambling. I’m not doubling checking any typos so if you spot them, no you didn’t 😡

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[rinrin-the-shark-teen]

I need all of the adults to actually take action of Steve's living conditions from the moment they realize that he has the shittiest parents ever.

After the first round with the upside down Joyce cannot comprehend when Steve tells her not to call his home since there will be no one there. His mom will certainly not take care of him, she barely even calls for important dates. He is always alone, so he will just drive home with all his injuries and make do. Steve quickly understands why neither of the Byers ever goes against her will. She checks all his injuries and makes him a makeshift bedroom in their living room until he is better. She will not take no for an answer. Steve stays for almost a month there and practically has to get a doctor's note saying he is fine now before she lets him go.

Hopper sits him down eventually and makes him explain his living situation. Steve goes in as little details as possible about it, trying to brush it off but Jim is not happy and surely not believing it. He starts building a case at the station if Steve ever needs their help and you know, prepare in case they somehow get worse. Steve will have all the evidence needed to ruin them with proof of child neglect and other much much worse.

Claudia Henderson immediately starts asking for his help as home as an excuse to have him at their place and feed him. "Steve sweetie? Can you come over and help me get the door unstuck? Can you help with the faucet? Do you think we need to repaint?" And then Steve is at their place more and more and coming back home with too much homemade food. He eventually shared it with the Munsons as he cannot eat all of that by himself before it goes bad. She also insists on teaching him how to cook and they eventually fall into a routine.

Wayne Munson immediately brings him under his wing after being Eddie's personal nurse. He asks him to come over to watch games, he calls him son knowing perfectly well the impact it has on Steve if the tears in his eyes are anything to go by. He teaches him how to maintain his car that he loves so much so he doesnt get taken advantage of for being a Harrington. He gets him his own mug to add to the collection and drinks his coffee in silence pretty much every morning with Wayne while Eddie is still snoozing in his room.

Karen Wheeler starts making 3 sets of lunches. She sends him his lunch with Mike, which kills Mike's soul every day. "First Nancy, then my mom and now Eddie? What is it with you Steve?"

Steve by S4 has a whole routine for his week. - Sundays cooking with the Hendersons. They cook together and Steve and Claudia exchange new recipes and try new ones every week. - Mondays are spent at his own place and Hopper comes by after the end of his shift and they just watch TV and chat about their day with a beer in their hands. - Tuesdays is family dinner at the Byers. Steve always brings desert (that he learned from Claudia) even tho Joyce tells him that only his presence is needed. They usually catch up while doing the dishes. - Wednesdays he has a late shift at Family Video with Robin but he always takes time to chat with her parents before they get on their way. - Thursdays is DnD night, so he brings the little gremlins home. Not without a quick chat with their mothers tho. - Fridays and Saturdays are usually nights spent with Eddie, and by proxy with Wayne as well. They have dinner and if Wayne is still up for it they watch a movie. Most of the time he is asleep halfway, but they dont mind. Wayne brings a homey feeling to the place, his soft snores a background noise to their night.

So then the Harrington's come back after everything and they throw Steve out of the house for being a disappointment and achieving nothing in life. They will not just let him live rent free while he wastes away being nobody in this dead town. He is nothing but a shame to their name.

Imagine their absolute surprise when see 4 adults basically fighting in their frontyard over who will adopt Steve. Claudia is begging Steve to choose her and that way him and Dustin can finally be actual brothers. He would have his own room and they could decorate it together and they would always be just a few meters away. Then Joyce is saying that she basically adopted him since 83 and he IS family already. Putting on paper would just be the last step to it. Hopper is saying that he has been taking care of him since the first "disaster" unlike his own parents. He doesnt insist much since they all live together with Joyce now, so she can do the fighting for him.

And then Steve turns to Wayne, waiting for his arguments to be his official son now, but Wayne just casually shrugs and looks at the others. Steve lets go of a small "oh", his heart breaking a little even tho there are literal adults fighting for him right now, he foolishly expected the same from him. and when Wayne notices this, he is very quick to correct him. "Steve, don't get this wrong son. I am not fighting with them because it would be unfair. They are trying their best to make you one of them, but I have an advantage. You will be a Munson sooner or later, no matter who adopts you. My boy will make an honest man out of you, I raised him right after all" and he squeezes his shoulder. Steve just stares at him, face bright red while his eyes begin to water.

[findafight]

For the STWG daily drabble prompt “accidental confessions” (I wrote this half in bed last night, half in bed this morning. Forgive some mistakes thanks) took it in a different direction.

It takes a full day for Steve to be released from hospital after they’ve confirmed he had broken ribs and a concussion amongst his other more minor injuries. Claudia is incredibly greatful she had the foresight to offer being the poor boys secondary emergency contact in the spring, seeing as Dustin had complained that Steve’s parents took a week to sign him out in November.

She got the call and was able to pick Dustin up and follow the ambulance to the hospital (Steve’s nervous friend had ridden with him, needing attention herself but refusing to let go of his hand). The smell of the smoke from the embers of Starcourt is something she doesn’t think she’ll forget, the stink sticking to Dustin’s hair and clothes. She’s sure it was the same for Steve.

He was under observation (and they did assist him in bathing, thank goodness) before being able to check himself out. She had swooped in and bundled him into her car as his friend’s parents ushered her away with the promise that the two could call, but needed to be home with family for a while to heal.

No one mentions that Claudia Henderson is not related to the Harringtons. If they had, she thinks she would have lost whatever composure she has been clinging to since she saw the sky burning red above the former mall and pulled up to be told her two boys had been caught in the chaos. Steve had been with Dustin when the Hargrove boy had threatened Lucas and protected them, had been coming around for dinner or to drive Dustin around, or to help him style his hair or countless other little things or no reason whatsoever. He has slotted into their lives easily, fitting into a place that neither Claudia nor Dustin realized they needed. He is her son in any way that mattered, and she needed him home. With her.

Finally pulled into the driveway, she opens the passenger door and holds her arms out, letting Steve grip her shoulders and securing a hand in his armpit. She hauls him out and supports him as he stumbles through the entryway.

“This way, sweetheart. You’re in the guest bedroom. Dusty helped air it out for you earlier, so everything’s fresh.” She says, nudging him towards the room. He nods and goes where she guides.

She helps him change into a matching pyjama set she had tucked away for him, as sometimes Dustin had horrible nightmares and could only be calmed by seeing Steve, awake and no longer visibly harmed, and he ended up sleeping on the chesterfield or Dustin’s floor. They were soft, and buttoned down the front, so everything was comfortable and he didn’t over exert or hurt himself trying to get the top over his head.

“I can do the pants myself, mrs. H.”

She smiles. “Of course. I’ll turn around and you let me know when you’re ready so I can help you get settled.”

“‘Kay.” There’s more shuffling than she would like, and more groans, but Steve gives her a “ready” before she gets too worried. He’s sitting on the edge of the bed, loose pants the hospital provided kicked into the corner, looking a bit lost. His eyes are drooping, eyebrows slightly creased, and his mouth gapes a little, like he’s trying to figure out if he should speak.

Gently, she tugs the quilt out from under him, helping him lay back and tuck his feet under the sheets. She pulls everything up to his chin and kisses his forehead.

He hums contentedly and she brushes his hair further out of the way.

“Would you like me to turn the lights out?”

Steve slowly blinks his eyes at her, fingers curling around the edge of the quilt. His answer is a soft “yes please” followed by, “don’t leave?”

It’s so small, so desperate and resigned, it breaks Claudia’s heart all over again. She steps away from the bed, flicks the switch and turns right back around to sit on the edge of the bed. She’ll get a glass of water for him later, but now she just runs her hand through his hair, petting him soothingly.

He sighs, his body losing some of the tension he’s been holding, and his eyes droop. Humming, he burrows dirtying into the blankets but whines when she moves her hand away. She returns to petting. “There, there, honey. You’ll feel better after you sleep more, alright. And you don’t need to worry about anything. I’m right here.”

He nods just slightly, smacking his lips together and pressing his forehead into her palm. “Mmm. That’s good. I wish you were my mom.”

The admission is followed by another sigh and Steve losing the battle to keep his eyes open. It strikes Claudia through the heart, all this time seeing Steve as her own, trying to make sure he doesn’t feel smothered by her need to…well. Smother. And she had rarely considered that Steve would admit to wanting or needing the kind of support and warmth she was restraining (very badly) from throwing at him.

He probably only said it because of the concussion and the various pain or antibiotic drugs the hospital had given him, but it must have been true. He has asked her to stay, and whines when she moved her hand away. Over the past months he’d gotten more and more comfortable in their house and told her more about his frequently absent and disappointed parents. Steve needed support, and steady and reliable presence he trusted. And he saw that in Claudia.

If Steve wishes she were his mother, then his mother she’ll be. She’s been that for him probably since that first night they officially met in November, a beat up boy clutching her son’s shoulder in the Byers house and assuring her he didn’t let the kids get hurt, regardless of his status of also being a kid.

She leans down and kisses his forehead again, and says “well, that’s good, because you are my son.” Even if he can’t hear it. If he wants, she’ll say it everyday until he believes it. For now, she let’s him sleep as she pets his hair gently.

[shares-a-vest]

'i have writer's block', i say as i go back to a little ficlet i've had sitting in my drafts for months and immediately turn into 1.4k...

Summer, 1995

Wayne Munson's hearing isn't what it used to be, but he is almost certain he can hear a steady stream of cooing sounds coming from Eddie's bedroom.

He frowns and looks at his watch.

It's only 6:30am.

He yawns at the early hour as he shuffles to the kitchen for his prized coffee pot. And gosh darn it, he thinks. He really didn't want to be on a shiftwork sleep schedule while the boys are visiting with his granddaughter.

"Joanie-Bear..."

"Joanie-Bolonge..."

Yep – that is definitely Eddie with one of his silly pet names and a high-pitched sing-song voice.

Wayne can't help but stifle a chuckle as he fetches a clean mug from the drying rack on the sink. He's never known Eddie to wake up this early. Not even back when Steve moved in with his militant morning routine of jogging-showering-breakfast, all before Eddie's third alarm finally rustled him semi-conscious.

He sets his mug down with a clang on the bench as the incessant beeping of Eddie's blasted wristwatch sounds through his waning eardrums. He wishes he'd never bought the thing (in his futile efforts to make his nephew punctual) in the first place.

But the distant memory of Eddie's useless watch is quickly replaced with the disgruntled wailing of Joanie – a living, breathing tiny-human alarm that will surely be more than effective in getting his nephew up at a decent hour. For the next few years, at least.

He foregoes a courteous knock and opens the bedroom door to find Eddie sitting at the end of the bed with Steve in his lap as they both look into the crib that contains the source of the ruckus.

"What are you boys doing?" Wayne asks with fond amusement.

"Saying good morning to the light of our lives," Steve says, all syrupy-sweet as he reaches down and makes a shushing noise.

Wayne steps closer, smiling as he catches sight of his granddaughter.

"Hey, darling."

Joanie smiles so wide her eyes crinkle up, cheeks growing rosier as she kicks her feet with such vigour she could tear straight through her yellow onesie.

"We were basking in the peace and quiet," Eddie explains with an adoring sigh, "Gotta relish it before this little bean starts going about her busy day of toddling, talking and getting stinky."

"Talking?" Wayne is very much aware he sounds disappointed.

"Bee-shabba-fur," Eddie turns to Steve with complete seriousness, punctuating his babble-talk with a hand flourish.

"Eepa-nann-ca," Steve agrees, nodding up at Wayne like he is supposed to chime in.

He smiles, "I don't think you should be accusing anyone of being stinky, Eddie. I remember you at her age all too clearly."

His nephew frowns and hides behind Steve's shoulder to shield himself from any more barbs, even though his boy claps a hand over his own mouth to contain his laughter.

"A... app-ess," Joanie babbles and excitedly kicks her feet again.

"That means applesauce," Steve nods as Joanie starts grumbling again and makes grabby hands in the air.

"Looks like she's expecting that applesauce right now," he warns the pair as he scoops her up.

"But – " Steve protests.

"Shh," Eddie cuts him off as his eyes get all droopy, "Let him take her."

Wayne rolls his eyes.

Alright, so maybe Eddie still isn't a morning person. Parenthood has just forced it on him.

"Come on, kid," he says as his granddaughter cranes her neck to look out expectantly at the kitchen.

Although he is thrilled to have a whole two weeks with the boys and Joanie, the trio being back in Hawkins means that Wayne has to share them with others, including the Hendersons. Call him selfish, but he'd much prefer to just stay at home all day than pack half the house into the car for the short trip across town for lunch.

As Steve opens the car door to sit with Joanie, she grumbles and squirms, whipping her head about. Wayne dips his head to get a look at the fuss she beams, making an eh noise at the sight of him. He barks a laugh as she swivels to look at her father, her hair fashioned into two not-so-small buns giving her a disproportionate bobblehead.

"You want Pa to sit with you?" Steve asks the kid.

She shoots Steve a look like she is desperate for him to vacate the seat.

"You drive," Wayne nods, ensuring they arrange something before Eddie insists on driving.

He really doesn't feel like getting car sick before a Claudia Henderson-catered lunch.

With Steve safely driving, and Eddie being distracted by some local council drama playing out over the talk-back hour on the radio, Wayne can relax.

That is until he feels a little paw clawing at his hand.

"You wanna hold my hand," he asks Joanie as he offers his palm.

"Eh-ep...ish," she stutters out all spittle-filled.

"That means 'yes please'," Eddie chimes, leaning into the crackling radio as he scoffs at the disc jockey's quip.

Wayne chuckles, "Figured that."

He looks down to find Joanie now tracing the many lines on his palm. She's in a state of deep concentration, leaning as far forward as her car seat straps will allow as she goes.

She soon takes his thumb in her hand, clenching her fist around it as she grows tired, most likely due to the bumps in the road interrupting her tracing game rather than any actual sleepiness. Wayne can feel her soft fingertips press against the callous on his knuckle. She freezes and unfurls her hand to examine it.

She looks up with the same confused frown Eddie always had as a kid, her big brown eyes clearly expressing thoughts that she can't yet put into words. But she is most definitely thinking away in that little noggin.

She presses her forefinger to the callous to poke at it.

"Got a lot of those, I'm afraid," he explains, "Too tough for your hands."

She looks him over, eyes darting about as she opens her mouth like she is readying herself to respond.

For a moment, he thinks she might not have a damn clue, but then she takes his thumb again and pulls it close. He has to shift a little so his hand isn't twisting on the edge of the baby seat but sure enough, Joanie holds his hand for the remainder of the ride.

When they reach the Hendersons, Claudia announces she already has lunch well underway. She and Wayne think alike when Joanie is around. Rush through all that boring grown-up stuff to get straight to playtime with the kid.

Steve is going about his usual routine, carrying his daughter around the house to give her a tour while the others make the finishing touches on lunch.

Though Wayne is sure Eddie and Dustin are each sneaking samples and more getting in the way than actually helping. He smirks at the sound of something clanging in the kitchen and Claudia giving a scolding, "Dusty!" as he rounds the corner to the dining room.

Steve is walking around the table with Joanie in his arms, counting the chairs aloud. But Joanie isn't listening. She spots Wayne and beams.

"Pa!"

His heart stops – or maybe it swells.

Joanie outstretches her hands as she tries to wiggle out of her father's grip. And Steve, the poor boy, looks shell-shocked. He blinks, eyes as wide as Claudia's special-occasion dinner plates.

"Eh-Eddie!" Steve half stutters, half shrieks as tears begin to well up.

"What, what, what?" his nephew panics, walking in from the kitchen cradling a gravy boat like his hands are too full for anything else.

He walks right up to Steve and practically hooks his chin on his shoulder. Eddie frowns at his partner. And Joanie just keeps squirming, now turning her attention to her father.

"Pa!" she whines through a frustrated little hiccup as she points across the room.

Eddie yelps and cups a hand over his mouth.

Thankfully, Wayne doesn't hear the sound of the gravy boat dropping onto the freshly-vacuumed carpet. He doesn't even look to make sure. He's far too focused on his granddaughter.

"She said her first word," Steve whispers like he has a frog in his throat.

Joanie did say her first word.

Wayne's granddaughter said her first word.

And her first word referred to him.

Her Pa.

His bottom lip wobbles as they lock eyes once more.

But the moment is short-lived as the kid resumes wriggling about, pushing against Steve's possessive hold with some real force this time as she balls up a fistful of her father's pale blue polo shirt.

"Pa!" she dry-sobs.

Wayne shakes his head and steps forward. He'll have to save the serious emotions and a doting session with the boys for later if they want to avoid a catastrophic meltdown right now. He beams as he rushes the couple of strides it takes to reach his cranky granddaughter, who remains completely unaware of the marvel that has everyone at a useless standstill.

"Better do as she says," he laughs, taking her from Steve.

The boy has no choice but to give her up.

Joanie almost jumps into his embrace as she hooks her arms in a vice-like grip around his neck. Wayne looks at the boys, apologetic as he bounces his granddaughter.

Not that she needs settling now, anyway.

More of this au HERE

[damn-good-marmalade]

Punk Steve AU Playlist for my completed 241k (😳) Steddie fic they're gonna make a fuss about the two of us.

Featuring: platonic soulmate Stobin, Steve living with the Hendersons, Claudia Henderson <3, stealth trans man Eddie Munson, slow burn, eventual smut, BDSM and guaranteed happy ending.

Content warnings for - alcoholism, parental trauma, self harm, depression, hopelessness.

These songs are the chapter titles but I have more playlists I can share in future.

Art by @irlplasticlamb, commissioned by @linzisauruswrex

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

@steddiemas Day 21 -  Home and/or Dinner

pairing: steddie | word count: 1,333 | rated: G

“For real this time.”

Steve’s words pull his eyes off that stupid sprig of greenery and back down to his face, but his brain is still sprinting laps in his head, “For real? Who put—? When did—?”

“Eddie.”

He takes a couple seconds to slow his brain down into a jog. “Yeah?”

“I’m being serious. I want to kiss you. Please.”

“....If this is a pity thing–” Eddie’s stomach twists at the thought.

“It’s not a pity thing.” Steve assures in a soft voice, trailing his hand down the wrist he’d taken hold of to link his fingers with Eddie’s. “I want to kiss you because you’re you and because I’ve wanted to for a while now.”

Okay…he seems genuine enough.

“And also it’s a little bit of a pity thing.” Steve grins good-naturedly.

“Ugh!” Eddie groans, dropping his face into his free hand.

“I just want to be 100% honest.” Steve laughs, “And if I’m being 100% honest, I put this one here, not Robin. And I followed you out here to make sure you were okay and also maybe to get another chance to kiss you.”

Eddie lifts his head and his eyes narrow, studying Steve’s face. His expression seems sincere; serious with an undercurrent of humor to it. His lips twitch too, like his mouth is having a hard time not smiling at him.

“Then you just had to get all sad and mopey on me.” Steve teases.

It breaks through Eddie’s wariness the rest of the way, surprisingly, and he bursts out in cackles.

“What?” Steve asks, laughing slightly with the word, but his smile is wary around the edges.

“Nothing, nothing, I just,” Eddie chuckles again, “Nothing. Yeah, sure, lay one on me, big boy.”

Steve squints at him skeptically.

“What?”

“I’m not gonna if you still think this is some big joke.”

“Well forgive me if the man of my dreams asking to kiss me is a bit of a hard concept to grasp.” 

The younger man is silent for a moment, though now his eyes are wide.

“What? Why do you keep staring at me?”

“I’m the man of your dreams?”

Oh fuck.

“Uh.. No. I lied, I was only fucking with you, I—”

Steve steps closer and raises a hand to Eddie’s face, brushing the backs of his knuckles along his cheek.

He studies him closely, eyes locked onto his own.

His hand slips off his face to place his palm at the side of Eddie’s neck, his fingers lacing into the hairs at the back of his neck.

“I’m going to kiss you now.”

“Okay.” Eddie gulps.

When their lips connect, everything else falls away.

Steve’s lips are soft on his, and the tip of his nose is freezing cold where it’s pressed into Eddie’s cheek, making him gasp.

Steve takes the opportunity to slide his tongue between Eddie’s lips, only the tiniest touch of their tongues feels electric.

“Steve,” Eddie sighs.

“Mmm..?” it’s more of a soft moan than an acknowledgment, and the sound shoots all the way down Eddie’s spine and into his gut.

“Mhm,” Eddie says in response, locking their mouths together, then after another moment he hums again. “Hm, wait, your nose is freezing!” he pulls away with a smile, looking across the almost non-existent gap between their faces at Steve’s expression.

His eyes are blown wide, his cheeks and nose are red along with his lips, from the cold and from Eddie’s obviously insane levels of kissing prowess.

“You think I care about that right now?” Steve asks, diving back in for more.

Who’s Eddie to tell him what to care about?

“Ah ha!” Robin’s sudden yell, even through the glass, startles them apart. The long blinds on either side of her ripple away from where she’s got two of them parted at the door.

“Jesus H. Christ, Robin!”

“What the hell?!”

She slides the door open and points accusingly at Steve, “You told him straight to his face “Now we’re even.” the last time mistletoe happened, and he still let you kiss him for real??”

“Wait, wha–”

“Oh yeah... Damn it Steve, why’d you let me kiss you like that? I’m still mad at you for Melvald’s.” Eddie says, teasingly pushing Steve further away from him.

“Kiss me?! I kissed you!”

He waves this off, “Semantics.” 

Steve just rolls his eyes in response. “Come on; you’re right, I’m freezing my ass off out here.” He squeezes between the two of them and through the open door.

Eddie turns his gaze to Robin instead, who’s grinning widely at him already. “Congratulations, Doofus, you got Dingus to make a move.”

“Good thing too; I don’t think I would have made one myself.”

“We know.”

“We? Who’s we—”

“You comin’ Eds?” Steve calls, already in the dining room.

“Yeah, yep, absolutely.” he scoots past a still very smug Robin and follows the sound of Steve’s voice.

Oh no. He can sense a pattern forming.

“Steve?” Most of the rest of the guests are piled in the far half of the room, the living room half. Lucas is in the dining half, and gives him a knowing smile while he slides a huge bowl of mashed potatoes into the center of the huge dining table.

“In here, Eds.” Steve calls from the kitchen.

“I don’t wanna hear it, Sinclair,” Eddie points threateningly, half-heartedly, at the teen.

He hears Lucas’ response as he ducks out of the room into the hall “I didn’t say anything, Eds.”

Wayne and Hopper are on one end of the island when he enters, though he doesn’t notice until after he’s placed himself at Steve’s side.

“D’ya need help Stevie?” he asks Steve’s back(side) while he pulls the now-baked pie from the oven.

“Nope, I’m good Ed.” he turns, and places the dish onto the island carefully. Eddie closes the oven for him anyway.

“It looks great, sweetheart,” He says, leaning close to Steve’s side, “I was worried it’d be too many blueberries.”

Steve opens his mouth to say something, but is interrupted by Hopper’s low voice.

“You boys better be careful, now.”

Eddie jumps back immediately, his eyes darting to Wayne.

Wayne is shaking his head fondly. “Took the words righ’ outta my mouth, Chief.” he says, going back to what he was doing (which was carving the turkey apparently; how’d he not notice that?).

He glances back at Steve (oh yeah, that’s why), who’s own panicked look is sliding off his face.

“Yes sir, Mr. Chief Hopper, sir.” he says, his eyes returning to Hopper’s amused expression.

“Where’s the formality coming from?” Steve leans in to say in a not-so-hushed whisper. 

Eddie not-whispers back in the same tone. “I dunno, the guy’s basically your dad isn’t he?” 

Wayne and Hopper laugh, and soon, there’s a herd of teens flooding into the kitchen to steal fingerfuls of the bird.

“Get yer damn hands outta my turkey, you little—”

“But we’re hungry Uncle Wayne, come on.”

“I said no, Mike, now go help set the table or something. Shit’s already done so it’s almost time, yea?”

Even with how large of a table it is, more chairs and another table had to be added to accommodate everyone. A couple folding tables and chairs, and the smaller ‘event’ table from the Harringtons’ fancy finished basement were hauled out, and the giant double-wide table is covered with tablecloths, with plates, and with piles and piles of food.

The chairs fill in in no time, and Eddie finds himself smushed between Jeff and Steve on one side of the table, Robin’s on Steve’s other side, of course, and Dustin and Claudia are across from him next to Wayne. 

He’s surrounded by his friends and family, the food is great, Wayne’s definitely being flirted with by Ms. Henderson, and Eddie’s hand is resting on Steve’s leg under the table, or across the back of his chair, or their legs are pressed together…

It’s the best Christmas dinner he’s had in years.

THEY KISSED FOR REAL!! I'M KICKING MY FEET AND GIGGLING RN!!!

other parts! Pt. 1 (Day 1) | Pt. 2 (Day 2) | Pt. 3 (Day 5) | Pt. 4 (Day 6) | Pt. 5 (Day 7) | Pt. 6 (Day 11) | Pt. 7 (Day 13) | Pt. 8 (Day 18) | Pt. 9 (Day 21) [YOU ARE HERE] | Pt. 10 (Day 25) also on AO3! this year

[formosusiniquis]

diana prince and stevie h.: variations on a theme

Inspired by this post by @secondconcussion cause I saw it earlier this week and couldn't stop turning it around in my mind

also on ao3 for easier reading

It's not Eddie's fault he got lost.

That's the first thing he wants to get out of the way. He'll take his lumps if he has to, Uncle Wayne can be a surly fucker when he's woken up before his alarm, "Not all those who wander are lost, Ed, isn't that what you said. Just wander your way back home." But Eddie's heart is gonna wait to be warmed that Wayne loves him enough to quote Lord of the Rings until after he's back in the part of Hawkins he recognizes.

"It's the ‘not all’ that I need you to wrap your head around old man, cause I, your dearest nephew, am very lost."

"Your my only nephew, and gettin' less dear by the second," Wayne lied like a liar.

He wasn't above begging, not when he'd already walked fuck knows how far to fuck knows where. "Please, Wayne!"

He hears a grumbled sigh and knows he's won, "Where are ya?"

"Um, woods?" He can hear the thunk of the phone being slammed against something hard, but at least Wayne doesn't hang up.

Hawkins is a small town, by Eddie's standards, but it expands in strange ways. Every summer he spent with Wayne it seemed to unfurl in different directions, a flower blooming a little different each year. It was not the gridded out cityscape he'd grown up in.

So when Eddie came down from Indy every summer to escape parents who managed to toe the line of awful just well enough that CPS kept their noses out of the Munson’s business, he would wander but never far. Just far enough to find the park and the playground that Wayne hadn't thought to mention. Far enough to find a corner store where he can pocket the extra candy bar he couldn't afford with the spare change he had -- and he wasn't going to put back the magazine he was buying, Wayne had nothing good to read and he couldn't make a library card yet. Far enough to find an abandoned picnic bench to smoke up at so his borrowed bedroom didn't smell like weed. Far enough to make some friends.

Only now that he's twenty, and some change. Now that he's graduated high school, third time lucky. Now that he’s decided to leave the trouble he could feel stirring in the city for someplace that always felt more like home. Now that he is an official Hawkins resident, he's wandered a little too far.

And it's not his fault, but he's not gonna tell Wayne that.

Cause the thing is, Eddie has always thought better when his feet were moving. After an hour of pacing around his trailer, still full with half unpacked boxes of things he hadn't realized he'd collected -- boxes that make him feel like a caged animal, that he'll be living out of for the next two months at least -- he has to leave. His first mistake, trusting that his feet will lead him around the parts of Hawkins he knows.

His mind twists plot hooks and campaign NPCs around his head, determined to get ready for when his friends come around later that afternoon with the pack of freshmen, now sophomores, that they'd adopted. He won't apologize for wanting to impress a new group of kids and wanting to convince Jeff he wouldn’t be sorry about passing off his DM mantle to a guy they used to only see two months out of the year. As he's thinking about a sect of female warriors -- a mix of barbarians and rangers, buff and leveled way above where the party will be -- and whether it'll just come across as horny the way the DILF-y elven mages he'd tried to include last year did, he sees her. Notices her, more like; a nymph, a dryad, a goddess sprung fully formed from his imaginings.

She crosses his path at a light jog. The shortest green athletic shorts he's ever seen clinging to the shape of an ass he could bounce a quarter off of. He can see the way her broad and muscled shoulders shift beneath the white sports bra she's wearing. It's the cool down portion of her workout, he guesses, from the way he can mostly maintain the small distance between them and the way sweat runs in rivulets down her back and trim waist. He wants to lick it off of her. She looks like she was built to fire a bow or break him in half, a Kinsey Five, it's the women who could kill him that always capture his attention.

He trails behind her, mind still turning over his session prep for the day and maybe thinking a little bit about whether she had a boyfriend. Hindsight will grant him that it's weird, the way he trailed behind her like a stray dog like this. But then, as he's sitting in the cab of Wayne's truck, he'll remember the way her thick, muscled thighs moved, how she bounced on the balls of her toes. He'll remember the way her ponytail swished over her shoulder as she glanced back at him, his first look at the lady's fair face, the way she'd smirked at him before bounding off of the roadside into the woods.

So totally not his fault he got lost. It probably happens all the time. The payphone on the opposite side of the road for sorry suckers like him who fall into her snare. Shit, maybe he should have stayed put, he hadn’t been thinking about why she might have a snare.

Wayne found him eventually, even if he spent the drive back to Forest Hills muttering about how Eddie had even found his way over to that side of town. How next time he aimed to get lost he should bring a map or a compass or a dog, and find his own way back. So he doesn’t ask his uncle about the mystery girl that could snap him over her knee like a dry twig, cause in the mood he’s in right now Wayne might go find her and embarrass the hell out of him.

Later, when Jeff and Gareth and Joey have piled onto the broken in couch that Wayne had given him. When the first teen that he doesn’t know knocks a little too quietly on his door, but grins wide enough to split his face that they’ve got a new campaign and a place to play over the summer. When they’re waiting for the last one to arrive, Eddie thinks about asking about her. She had to have overlapped with them in high school for at least a year or two.

Eddie knows already though that he won’t. Plus there’s a chance they’ll tell him anyway. He’s been on the receiving end of enough ‘Is that supposed to be Ronnie James Dio’s’ and ‘Wait are you describing Sigourney Weaver’s’ to hope that once he starts describing the Amazonian warrior who will hopefully be haunting his dreams he’ll get a ‘Doesn’t that sound just like…’

And yeah, maybe he’s starting to get a little impatient. But with the way he’s got the campaign laid out it will be at least two hours in before he gets a chance to describe her. At least, and he has to know who she is tonight.

“Dude,” Gareth starts, probably sick of the way Eddie’s bouncing his leg, “where’s Dustin?”

Will, the quietest so far of the new recruits looks almost too concerned, “He knows where it is right? Has anyone-”

Sinclair, he thinks the group arrived in mass and he’s not sure he’s partnered faces with the rush of names correctly just yet, pulls a walkie talkie with bells and whistles he didn’t even know you could attach from a backpack on the floor. “Dustin, come in, what’s your ETA?”

The tension in their corner of the room ratchets up enough to have Eddie’s palms start to sweat. Will brings his thumbnail up to his mouth, worrying it enough that it’s sure to start bleeding soon. “I’m sure it’s-” Sinclair starts to say, interrupted by a clattering outside then a bang to his door that yanks on the frayed edges of Eddie’s nerves.

He feels a little like a squirrel trying to cross a highway, the way the babies about to join the party are watching him with the knowing terror you watch something about to die.

Except the thing at his door is not Jason or Freddy, it’s a half-pint with a white hat pulled low over his head. The missing Dustin, who has no problem bullying his way through Eddie’s now open door.

“Ew, dude, why are you sweaty?”

"Because, Michael, I had to bike all the way across town." Eddie, and it looks like half the group, is about to ask some variation on why when Dustin holds up a hand shutting them all up masterfully "Because," he stresses each letter like they're what's wronged him, "five minutes before we were supposed to leave mom catches Stevie gossiping with Robin and she totally flips out about how she didn't take Stevie in just to watch her get herself killed. And then when I asked who was taking me here, Ma said she 'didn't buy me that bike just to have it sit in the garage!'"

The kid is incensed so it doesn't feel like the time to ask what the fuck is going on. Not when everyone else snorts and snickers at Dustin's expense. "Damn Stevie really fucked up if Dustybun got sent out on his own," Gareth jeers.

"Your mom does know what Stevie keeps in her trunk right? And she ruptured Preston's balls when he grabbed her ass last year," Lucas points out.

Hawkins, Eddie is learning, might just be full of girls to fall in love with.

"Stop saying that like it's hot, that's my sister you're talking about. I'll tell Max."

"Max still thinks Stevie's hot, dude."

"Are we gonna have to walk home just because Stevie's done something stupid again?" Mike complains.

"You didn't care about Stevie doing something dumb when she climbed that tree in heels to get you down after you got drunk at winter formal. Or when she took her bat to those… things." Lucas shares a sly grin with Will, who looks torn between feeling awkward at the inclusion and the teenage bloodlust for giving your friends a hard time. "You can just admit you feel weird about having the same taste as your-"

"Oh my god!" Dustin shouts cutting Lucas off and sending the room, Eddie included into a burst of snorting laughter. "Dustin Henderson," Eddie gets himself under control enough to accept the offered hand, "excited to have a DM who isn't a total asshole."

"Eddie, sorry about your hot sister. Not sorry for being a new kind of asshole Dungeon Master. Let’s see them character sheets, kiddies, this ain’t your mommy’s book club, we aren’t just here to gossip.”

Things go off pretty well, for a seven person table where he barely knows half the players. Lucas has an impressive tactical mind, Mike is a passionate role player, Will has a character built so well it’s basically an art form, and Dustin is a wild card who can’t decide whether he wants to win or to walk into the obvious trap just to see what will happen. It’s not hard to adjust, even if the way Jeff keeps looking at him when he describes new NPC's is throwing him off his game a little bit. He can duck behind his DM screen and recollect himself, but seriously what the fuck.

“She stands taller than the tallest of you, bronzed skin and hair, imperious, she looks at you, Sir Jeffrey, and offers you a deal, ‘Best our strongest warrior and you can take him back with you. Fail and his impunity will be punished by death.’” He lets the threat hang heavy in the air, all eyes on him and desperately hanging on to every word. Minus Jeff who was giving him that look again. “And that’s where we’ll end things this week, boys.” Cause he really, really hadn’t expected any of them to just straight up steal the enchanted bow of the Amazons that they needed to fell the dragon; and he really, really hadn’t planned for the botched stealth rolls.

Everyone grumbles as they pack up their things, it’s music to his ears. A four hour session -- if he didn’t count the hour they riffed about character builds and backstory once Eddie had his hands on their sheets -- and they’re still itching for more. It’s almost enough to have him just call a dinner break, so he can hole up in his room and churn something out. But someone is beating out shave and a haircut on his front door before he can change his mind.

“It’s probably Wayne getting revenge,” Eddie says, “woke him up early this afternoon.” He taps back his two bits, swinging open the door, expecting to see Wayne’s smug looking face grinning back at him. He’ll take his ‘Don’t feel too good getting interrupted in the middle a something, does it?’ with grace.

Only instead of an old man with two days of scruff, the door opens on his modern day Aphrodite. A worn, grey athletic shirt bragging about being a 1985 Hawkins Swim Team Region Champ has covered the white sports bra, cropped it shows off a distracting sliver of toned stomach above a short green tennis skirt, and her perky ponytail is down in loose waves around a mole kissed face.

And he’s gaping like a fucking idiot at her.

“Dust, wanna introduce me to your new friend?” she asks, voice bourbon smooth as molten eyes rake down his body from the doorway.

“Eddie, this is my sister.”

Like her brother before her, Stevie has no problem shouldering her way through the door. Where Dustin had slipped through on a size difference technicality like a halfling, she places a warm hand against his shoulder and gently pushes until his feet and brain get it together enough to move with her. Even then they’re still screaming, god he’s positive she could have just picked him up. He really wants her to pick him up, maybe push him against the wall a little.

“Hi Eddie,” she says. Still in the doorway they’re hedged in by boxes marked ‘Kitchen Shit’ and ‘Unpack this first asshole’ breathing the same air almost, all because Eddie in his genius had dropped the last load of stuff from the back of the van right by the door. “Are we going to be seeing more of you around?”

“Obviously,” Dustin cuts in, “we only just finished the start of a totally epic campaign.”

“Obviously,” Stevie repeats, with a mocking tilt to her gorgeous smile. One he recognizes from this morning.

Jeff is still watching him, a set of eyes boring hard into the side of his face. “Eddie just moved to Hawkins, just spent summers here before.”

Something about that softens her. Her expression, her posture, easing into something a little less coiled to pounce but no less flirtatious. “To Hawkins?”

Shit, and she’s looking at him like he’s an idiot; but like a cute idiot that she’ll maybe want to put down on his knees. “Well the best band I ever played with is still in high school here, and a success story always sounds better coming out of a small town.”

“You’re in a band, huh?”

Dustin wrestles himself in the middle again, and it says a lot about his tenacity that he’s managed to rock Stevie back against the cardboard. “Whatever this is, I don’t like it and it needs to stop.”

“Load your bike up in the trunk then, shithead, and you won’t have to see it,” she fires back. He does push past her out the door, trying to let it slam shut behind him when she catches it in lightning fast reflex, “Scratch the paint cause you’re being a dick and your ass is grass!”

The rest of the sophomores are slow to pack up their remaining things, valuing gossip more than trying to comfort their friend on losing another soldier in the war of ‘thinks his big sister is the babest babe to ever hit Hawkins.’ 

“You should come to practice some time, band practice, for the um band."

Somebody behind him snorts, hears a whispered, "For the um band," that's probably meant to be a mimicry of him.

"Eddie's lead guitar," Jeff says, from a place of true friendship or pity. It's hard to tell.

Her eyes light up with a mischief, hair swinging as she cocks her head, and he can hear the requisite, ‘wow you must be so good with your hands,’ as clearly as if she had said it. Instead she says, “Gremlins, go get in the car. Tell Dustin, Ma’s pissed he didn't take his helmet and he should know first hand the dangers of head trauma.” It’s an inside joke, an unfunny one, from the way she grins as they grumble and groan and tell her to fuck off. Trooping out the door between him and Stevie they each let her pat them on the back or ruffle their hair, a little attendance check on the way to the car.

The trailer door shuts behind them with a slam, maybe not an attitude issue then and something to add to his to do list, but Stevie hasn’t left with them. “If you’re interested in what Hawkins has to offer, I could show you around.” She says casually. Conversationally. A comment for the room at large before she leans into Eddie’s space, warm breath against the side of his face making him shiver as she whispers, “I take the same run through town every day, and I always wanted a puppy to follow me home.”

Eddie is lost. In visions of the girl who just twirled out of his place on her heel after completely rocking his world. Has lost. His mind, his heart, and hopefully his status as single. But there are worse things he can think of than being lost in Hawkins.

[slowandsteddie]

Hi!

Since you’re asking for fic ideas, how about Claudia Henderson taking Steve in when he’s younger? She knows Wayne Munson got custody of his nephew the year before, so she asks him for advice helping Steve adjust.

Maybe Steve and Eddie getting to be close friends? Bonus points for little brother Dustin!

Thank you so much for the request! I love it and have been thinking about it nonstop.

CW: mentions of divorce, previous child neglect/abuse, C-PTSD, mention of minor character death (murder), swearing

I’m not sure what happened here exactly. I just know that I like it.

1953 words.

Claudia Henderson had always wanted two boys, a fact that almost everyone in Hawkins knew about. So, it really shouldn’t have come as a surprise to her that Jim Hopper was standing on her doorstep. He was holding his hat in front of him and the look on his face proved that he knew he was probably going to ask too much. Again.

“How can I help you, Chief?” She asked as though she couldn’t see Steve Harrington sitting in Hop’s car and looking straight ahead.

He cleared his throat. “I need to watch over the kid for a few days. Maybe a week while we try to get ahold of some relatives.”

Jim never was one to beat around the bush, but neither was Claudia. “Why?”

“His father is… going away for a while.” He seemed uncomfortable.

“Why?” She repeated, subconsciously crossing her arms when she had to press for more answers. He came to her for a favor, she had every reason to demand answers.

“He killed his wife and the kid has nowhere else to go in the meantime. I don’t want to have to hold him in a cell just because we don’t have a child services division in this small town.”

“Sorry we aren’t New York, Chief.” She sighed and ran a hand through her hair. That poor kid. Did he see what happened? Was she going to have to take him into the station to answer questions in the morning? “Does he have anything with him?”

“Just some clothes. He didn’t really want anything out of that house.”

She sighed again at that. “Bring him, then.”

Tomorrow, she was going to see if he wanted to go to the store and get anything. Probably best to keep him busy if he was willing. Besides, she needed to take Dustin to go pick out a new coloring book anyway.

Claudia looked out through the darkness and gave herself a moment to mourn, though not to cry. Steve’s mother had been her friend, even if they had drifted apart after Claudia’s divorce had gone through. Tonight couldn’t be about her. Not when her best friend’s son needed someone to take care of him.

“Thank you, Ms Henderson,” Hop said as he passed the backpack over to her and Steve stood on her doorstep.

He was so skinny. And was that bruising or shadows on his tiny face? That was a question she’d leave for the morning. Right now, he looked like he was about to collapse.

“I’m not doing it for you,” she replied before kneeling down to Steve’s level.

Hop took the opportunity to leave. The young male looked to him the same way a terrified boy would look for his father and Claudia made a note to reprimand the police chief later.

“Hi, Steve. I know this isn’t your home, but I want you to be comfortable here. Do you want to stay in the spare room tonight, or my room?”

He looked at her, wide eyed, as if she had a second head. “I get to choose?” He asked so softly and it broke her heart.

“You always have a choice here, Steve. As long as you stay safe and don’t hurt anyone.”

He chewed his lip and winced. It made Claudia lean more towards bruises than shadows, but it was hard to tell in the lighting and she wasn’t going to push. He had been through a lot.

“Spare room please,” Steve eventually decided.

Claudia made sure to show him where the kitchen and the bathroom were in case he needed anything. She also pointed out her own room being right across the hall before opening the door to the spare room for him. She did her best to make sure that he was as settled and comfortable as he was going to be under the circumstances. She stood in the door frame for a few seconds, holding on to it gently. She didn’t want to leave him, but he had requested to be alone.

“Anything you need, Steve. Just let me know. And Dustin might pester you in the morning if he wakes up before I do.”

“Okay,” he said simply.

Claudia went back to bed, leaving her door open. She really was going to have to call Wayne in the morning.

If Steve snuck into her room and laid on the floor beside her bed, she pretended not to notice.

—

“Wayne?” She was speaking a little lower than normal, but she did have two sleeping boys in her house and she was doing her best to keep it that way. “How did you help Eddie cope when he had to move in with you?”

“Why are you asking Claudia?” His voice was rough, but she knew him well enough to know that it was because he was tired.

“Have you heard about what happened at the Harrington’s yet?”

“You mean the murder?”

“I have Steve. Hop brought him to me last night,” she said in a rush before looking down the hall to make sure neither boy was going to sneak in on this conversation.

“Just make sure he feels safe and knows that things are going to happen at his speed, as much as possible. Have your limits and stick to them. Don’t let him push you over just because you know the hell he’s been through. And most important? Don’t try and be his Mama unless he asks you to.”

“Don’t have to worry about that last one. Hop said it should hopefully only be a week until they find some family willing to take him.” There was a tiny sniffle behind her. “Shit, Wayne. I gotta go. I’ll call you back tonight.”

When Claudia turned around, Steve was already disappearing back into the spare bedroom. The door closed with a soft click.

Shit.

“Mom, what’s for breakfast?” Dustin demanded as he walked out of his room and straight to the kitchen.

She’d check in on Steve soon. He probably needed a minute anyway.

“Pancakes sound good to you, Dusty?”

His toothless grin made her heart hurt.

How could anyone look at their child and feel anything but love?

—

It had been a few months and it seemed like Steve was staying. No one wanted to step up and take Steve. Honestly? Claudia wasn’t heartbroken about it. The longer he stayed, the more she loved him. She wasn’t fully convinced that she would let anyone take him away from her at this point. She wasn’t sure when she started looking at Steve as a son exactly, just that it happened quickly. Even Dustin, spoiled as he was, was excited to have an older kid in the house to hang out with. He said it made him seem cool to his friends that he suddenly found himself spending a lot more time with a Harrington. Whatever that meant.

She was just happy they were getting along. Happy that Steve was getting more comfortable with them. He was back up to a healthy weight, all the bruises were gone, and his injuries had turned to faded scars. Steve was safe. Most importantly, he was happy and loved. Claudia tried to not let it get to her that those were new feelings for the boy who previously only knew neglect or abuse at the hands of his biological parents.

—

Claudia woke up in the middle of the night, her heart pounding. What was that? A second thud had her throwing her covers back and running to the kitchen. The sight that greeted her would have made her laugh if Steve didn’t look so terrified.

Both boys were covered in flour. Honestly, the fact that most of the kitchen also had at least a thin dusting of the stuff was kind of impressive.

“What’s happening in here?” She asked with a smile.

Steve flinched and she tried to not let it get to her. He had to know by now that she would never hurt him, but the past doesn’t just go away like that.

“We were trying to make you a cake, but you put the flour too high and Steve wasn’t going to crawl on the counter. So I had to do it.” Dustin supplied after looking at the older kid and realizing that he wasn’t going to talk.

It happened a lot, Steve suddenly not talking. He also tended to leave the room a lot and hide in what had become his room. At least he felt safe enough to walk away now. He wasn’t walking away this time.

“It’s your birthday,” Steve said so softly. “It’s your birthday and you deserve a cake. I never got a cake.” His words got quieter as he kept talking, the last part of what he said barely audible.

“Oh, Steve,” Claudia’s heart was breaking. Shattering, really. “That’s really thoughtful of you, sweetheart. How about this? We clean up this mess and try again together? Yeah? Then I’ll move some stuff around so you can reach all the food in this kitchen.”

His eyes were shiny with unshed tears as the fear on his face gave way to a shy smile. “Okay,” he said simply.

And that was that.

—

Claudia was flustered.

She had been talking to Wayne a lot lately because he could relate to what she was going through. Taking in a kid who had nowhere else to go.

Somehow, that translated into them going out for dinner or lunch a few times to talk in person. To complain about the hardships and brag about the worthy things respectively.

That turned into her actually asking him on a date. Even more surprisingly, he agreed! Even though she knew he wouldn’t care, she was dressed in her absolute best and even took the time to tame her wild hair.

When there was a knock on the door, she was quick to answer it before Steve or Dustin had a chance. What she saw took her breath away. Wayne had put an effort in as well, and he was even holding a bouquet of flowers. Her cheeks heated and she smiled widely.

“They’re beautiful,” she breathed.

“You’re beautiful,” Wayne replied.

“Come in, come in,” she insisted as she stepped out of the way. When she saw Eddie, she smiled at him as well. “Thank you for agreeing to babysit my kiddos for me.”

Eddie grinned. “Uncle Wayne said he’d get me an Iron Maiden cassette.” Then he was running off to Dustin’s room, following the sound of laughter.

Claudia laughed softly before returning her attention to Wayne.

He shrugged. “Flattery and bribery get you everywhere with that boy,” he joked before going to grab a vase to put the flowers in.

Obviously he had been around the house a few times and paid attention to where she put things. Briefly, Claudia pictured Wayne and Eddie moving in - in the future.

It wasn’t a bad thought.

—

When they got back, Claudia was greeted by an adorable sight. Dustin was asleep, spread across the couch. Eddie and Steve were cuddled up in the recliner. Of course Dustin would claim the couch for himself and make two people share the smaller seat.

“Let’s not wake them just yet,” she said softly after a moment. “I’ve never seen Steve look so relaxed.”

Wayne had no objections. “Let’s put a note on the coffee table and then head to the backyard?”

Claudia had no objections, either. She scrawled out something on a piece of paper that was on the table already before leading the way outside. They sat on the outside loveseat, their knees touching.

Everyone was going to be spending a lot more time together. She just knew it.

[rogueddie]

The first time Steve and Dustin were alone together was the night they found Will. He had reassured Joyce that the kids would be fine, that he'd call their parents and, if needed, he would personally drive them home. Everyones parents were able to come to the hospital to pick them up.

Everyone expect Dustin.

So, Steve drove him home. He was giddy the whole ride, didn't bat an eye at Steve's presence the way the others had. He'd been more excited when Steve encouraged him to keep telling him about their side, about the little girl with superpowers and their little nerd game.

He'd invited Steve in for tea. Steve didn't have any left at home, had run out a couple days ago, so he agreed. He needed something warm after the day he'd had. He only hoped he wouldn't be intruding.

Claudia was horrified when she saw how bruised and bloodied he was. She had not only made him tea, but wrapped him up in a blanket and got her first aid kit. She was only really able to clean him up, most of the cuts beginning to heal just enough to be find on their own. Not that it made Claudia feel any better.

She'd only gotten more overbearing when Steve reluctantly admitted that his parents still weren't home yet. She insisted that he stay there so she can make sure he's still ok in the morning.

He has to argue with her when she tries to insist he sleep in her bed, while she stays on the sofa. Luckily, Dustin backs him up on that point. He points out that she'd make Steve feel guilty, which Steve quickly agrees with. Together, they convince her that Steve will be fine to stay on the sofa.

She made him breakfast in the morning. Homemade pancakes. She checks over his wounds again and, when she's finally satisfied that he doesn't have a concussion, she reluctantly let's him leave.

She calls him every other day, checking in on him. She stops commenting on his parents absence, just tutting. She only stops calling when, after two weeks, his parents do arrive home. They don't care about his bruises, simply remind him to keep his grades up, to not let the incident effect his basketball 'career'.

Steve finally took Claudia up on her offer to visit any time. She didn't care that he stayed the whole day, even offering to babysit Dustin when she wanted to go out for a little bit and was trying to find her usual babysitters number. He insists she doesn't pay him too, that she'd been letting him squat for long enough that he owes her anyway.

It becomes routine after that. Sometimes Claudia calls him to babysit, usually he's already there. Dustin complains a lot that he doesn't need a babysitter, but Steve can tell that he doesn't really mind. Dustin can rant about whatever he wants to Steve... mostly because Steve isn't really listening but that just means he can rant about the same thing as much as he wants.

The second time Steve turns up at Claudias house, bruised and bloodied, is far worse than the first.

She fusses a lot more, scolds Dustin for the plasters the kids had used to try and stop the bleeding. She had to reopen a lot of the cuts in order to clean them properly. She only needed to bandage one, holding the ice pack to his eye for him for some time.

"You can't keep getting hurt like this," she had tried to scold him. Her voice broke though, revealing the fear she tried to hide.

"He was protecting us," Dustin finally spoke up. He was unusually quiet, almost timid. "B... the guy was going to hurt Lucas. He said he was gonna kill him. Steve was protecting us."

After that, Claudia insisted that Steve join them for their Sunday roasts. At first as a thank you, for looking out for Dustin and the kids as much as he had. It soon becomes something... more.

It wasn't until Dustin dragged Steve home after Starcourt and the Russians, bruised and bloodied once again, that the subtext was no longer sub.

Claudia complained, loud and upset, that someone must have cursed the town, must have cursed her.

"If it wasn't for you having all your friends here, Dusty, I'd move us away. I'd pack all of our important stuff and we'd go, right now. Far, far away where nothing can hurt my boys ever again."

She'd been looking at Steve. She'd been making sure the medics had properly taken care of his wounds. She'd looked at him, pointedly.

"Where you two go?" Steve asked, trying to ignore the look.

Claudia had tutted, narrowed her eyes at him. "Us three. Our little family is already too small. Nothing could make me leave you behind, Stevie. Nothing."

"Oh."

She had smiled, fixing his hair.

Dustin snorted when he looked over. "You're catching flies, Stevie!"

"Shut up!" Steve threw a pillow at him. "You're such a brat!"

Dustin grabbed the thrown pillow, throwing it back at his chest. "You're one to talk!"

"Be careful," Claudia warned.

She sat back with a smile, keeping a close eye on them and making sure that they're play-fighting didn't get too out of hand.

She can remember when she first had Dustin, how much she'd wanted another son to keep him company, a brother who would love him. She can remember how distressed she was when she realized that she never would.

Funny how things turn out, she thinks; funny that she did get her dream in the end. Even if it does come with a lot of stress.

"Dusty, careful! You need to be careful, watch out for his face, ok?" She raises her voice a little. She bites back a smile at the sheepish looks they both send her.

[loveinhawkins]

I never know what to put for these made-up fanfic titles, but! how's "boy that's never been" sound? (or girl, which is the original line, or child, which has its own flavor)

oh boy that’s never been is perfect. Congratulations/commiserations, you’ve let me unleash probably the most tragic thing I’ve ever thought of.

warning: the first section of this will have a major character death. it’ll then be followed up by an alternative take where the character is initially believed to be dead but survives, so feel free to read both or one or neither. ❤️

-

It starts with laughter, with Dustin and Eddie jumping up and down, clinging to each other, riding the high of the most metal concert in the history of the world.

Eddie drapes the guitar pick around Dustin’s neck, like giving a medal to an Olympian. “Souvenir,” he says, grinning, and Dustin’s about to speak, to probably just reiterate just how fucking cool Eddie’s playing was, but then they hear the bats come through the vents, and the words fly out of his head.

They barricade the door, and Eddie is screaming at him to, “—go! Let’s go!”, and Dustin starts to hurry up the rope. He can hear the distant crackle of his walkie, Lucas’s voice shaking with relief, “It worked, it worked, he’s out of her head.”

Dustin looks back instinctively, because by all rights, Eddie should be right behind him.

But he isn’t. He’s just standing there, watching Dustin climb, and he’s got this look on his face, and Dustin suddenly thinks oh, don’t you fucking dare.

“What the hell are you doing?” Eddie says, just as Dustin’s about to ask the very same thing. “Go!”

“Not without you.”

Eddie shakes his head. And then his eyes widen; he looks up, somewhere beyond, and Dustin doesn’t know what it is that he’s seen, but his face goes white. 

“Dustin, hurry!”

The world trembles; Dustin loses his grip on the rope, hears Eddie say, “Shit!” right before he falls, ankle giving way beneath him, and he lands flat on his back, aching and winded—

He opens his eyes. The Gate on the ceiling has knit itself shut.

“Oh, Christ, oh, Christ,” Eddie’s whispering, over and over, and he’s pulling Dustin up, “are you—”

Dustin whacks him on the shoulder. “What the fuck was that? You’re not getting left behind, asshole.”

And while he’s still so angry, Eddie must hear how his voice shakes with fear, teetering into anticipatory grief.

“Okay, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

The swarm of bats are still scratching at the door; the wood’s splintering.

“We’ve gotta get out of…” Eddie trails off, eyes darting in thought. He glances down at Dustin’s foot. “Fuck, you can’t run.”

A chorus of demonic screeching, far too close.

“Okay, c’mon, I’ve got you,” Eddie says, and he’s bearing Dustin’s weight, half-carrying him outside. Dustin hears him curse as he slams his shield against the few bats that still remain, scaling the wired fence. He makes short work of them.

He leaves Dustin on the porch, runs for the bike.

As Dustin waits, he feels a new sharp pain in his ankle—looking down, he sees one of the bats that Eddie thought he’d killed, still weakly crawling on the ground, teeth sunk deep into his skin.

He kicks, stomps on it until it lets go. There’s a trail of blood seeping down from the skin around the fibula, and he’s a little light-headed, but he thinks that’s mostly because he’s looking at it, so he simply doesn’t anymore.

Eddie comes into view, pushing the bike with a frenzied energy. He’s muttering under his breath, “Where do we go, where do we go?”

Maybe it’s down to Eddie being so panicked—suddenly Dustin has no trouble at all focusing on a solution.

“I think it worked,” he says calmly. “They’ve killed him. That’s why…”

Eddie nods, face still so pale. “Are you saying we’re stuck down—god, there’s gotta be something we can—”

“Yeah, it’s sealing up,” Dustin says hurriedly, “but I—maybe not all at once. Maybe it’s in the order of the—”

“So. Chrissy,” Eddie says shakily, “then Fred, th-then Patrick.”

“We’ve gotta go to Lover’s Lake.”

Eddie breathes out, “God, you fucking genius.”

He sits forward on the seat of the bike, so Dustin’s got enough room to sit behind him. Dustin grips onto his jacket, presses the side of his face against his back.

“Hold on tight, Henderson,” Eddie yells, and then he’s off, pedalling for their lives.

Dustin can only pray that Nancy, Steve and Robin have come to the same conclusion—his heart leaps when he sees them running across the rocky bed, to the still open Gate.

They all dive through it as quickly as they can. The only pause comes when Dustin insists Eddie go in front of him, and Eddie looks ready to fight him on it; “No time,” Steve interjects, and he gives Eddie that same kind of nod he’d given before he left the trailer park. “I’ve got him.”

“Deep breath,” Steve instructs, voice deliberately even. “Good, that’s it.” He grabs onto Dustin’s hand. “I won’t let go.”

It’s a vow; Dustin knows it.

The two of them make up the rear. Swimming through the depths of the lake is hardly scary at all, not when Dustin can see Robin and Nancy break through the surface, Eddie right behind them.

Steve’s trying to make him go in front; he can tell from the way Steve’s urging him along—but his strong kicks mean he’s always slightly ahead, no matter how hard he tries.

Dustin’s still bleeding. He can feel it. He’s kind of glad that it’s dark, honestly; he doesn’t know what Steve would do if he could see it.

They emerge up above, gasping, and they’re almost at the boat, almost home, when Dustin feels the vine wrap around his ankle.

The first tug doesn’t pull him under. But Steve’s still holding his hand, so when it happens, he feels it, too.

His head turns in alarm, and his expression is scarily similar to Eddie’s as he watched Dustin climb up the rope; and Dustin knows that Steve will never let go, not even if it kills him.

So he does.

He wrenches out of Steve’s grip. He doesn’t have time to say I’m sorry, I love you, before he’s being dragged down, and just as he’s submerged, he hears Eddie scream his name.

He tries. But he keeps sinking no matter how hard he kicks, and then, even though it’s completely illogical, even though he knows it will kill him, he simply has to breathe in.

He swallows water. It burns.

And then the burning goes away, and it doesn’t hurt at all; he just feels so, so sleepy.

The faintest impression of arms around him. And even though it doesn’t make sense, it shouldn’t be possible, he still feels a final comforting warmth at the touch.

It’s Steve, Dustin thinks for the last time. He’s got me.

-

Steve emerges with Dustin in his arms. He barely registers the screams from the boat, just yells, “Someone grab him,” and lifts him onboard.

Robin gets Dustin by the legs, and Nancy gently lowers his head. As Steve climbs aboard too, he knows he cannot even look in Eddie’s direction for fear of the expression he’ll see on his face.

“Nance, count for me,” he says.

He starts chest compressions. She counts.

Two breaths.

Compressions.

Two breaths.

“C’mon, bud,” he says, “you’ve gotta breathe, you’ve gotta cough it all up, you hear me, Dustin? Come on.”

He keeps going. He keeps going even when Nancy finally stops counting.

“Come on,” he says. His voice breaks. “Come on, kid, come on.”

“Steve,” Robin whispers.

“Don’t,” he says, because there’s something in the shattered way she says it that snaps him out of it—that makes him see Dustin, so small and so still, and his hair is so wet, and he’d usually be so pissy about that, but he’s not, he’s not saying anything.

It’s Eddie who stops him. A shaking hand on his forearm.

“Steve,” Eddie says. He’s crying. “You can—you can stop now. He’s gone. He’s gone.”

“No,” Steve says flatly.

“He’s dead,” Eddie says. His fingers dig into Steve’s skin; he chokes on his words. On a sob. “God. He’s dead, sweetheart.”

A grief-stricken keen. Later, Steve realises that it comes from him: his mouth, his throat, his heart. He pulls Dustin close, in a desperate hug that can’t be returned, as if he could somehow shield him from a fate that’s already been given.

…

Or, in a world that’s perhaps a little bit kinder:

Steve is just a fraction quicker, keeps his grip on Dustin’s hand so they’re both yanked down, down…

Steve tries his hardest; he strains and pulls as they reach the Gate, and his last sight of Dustin is his wide, fearful eyes before he slips out of his grasp. He surges forward instantly, reaches for him, but then, like a sudden tidal wave, is pushed back, back—

The Gate’s closed. Gone.

Steve frantically searches the bed of the lake, cuts his hands on perfectly ordinary rocks until his lungs burn, and he has no choice but to kick for the surface.

Eddie’s in the water too; Steve almost hits his head on his dangling feet as he comes up for air.

“Jesus Christ,” Eddie shouts. He treads water erratically, and for barely a second, he goes absolutely still. “Oh my god. Oh my god, where is he?”

“The Gate—” Steve says, and then can’t go on.

Eddie’s lips tremble, move soundlessly. “This can’t be—this isn’t happening,” he whispers. He dives under not a second later.

For a wild moment, Steve almost follows him, even though he still can’t catch his breath. Nancy pulls him onto the boat before he can try.

Eddie resurfaces, barely draws breath before speaking. “So, what’s the plan? How are we gonna—”

“Eddie,” Robin says, reaching for him. “Get out of the water.”

He acts like he can’t hear her.

“Am I not fucking speaking English or s-something? Tell me what we’re—”

“It’s over, Eddie,” Nancy says quietly. “Vecna’s dead. The Gates are closed. We… we won.”

Eddie’s shaking his head. “No, no, this isn’t—just tell me what to do! I’ll do anything, I’ll—”

“What am I gonna tell his mom?” Steve says helplessly.

He doesn’t mean to say it. But Eddie definitely hears it, because his mouth twists in grief; Robin’s finally able to pull him up onto the boat. He rests his forehead against her arm and shudders.

Nancy waits for a long while before she starts to row them back, like she’s waiting on a miracle. But the water remains eerily still.

When the boat starts to move towards the shore, the awful reality of it all finally seems to sink in for Eddie. He moves out of Robin’s arms and his hand finds Steve’s knee, squeezes tightly.

“I’m sorry,” he breathes. “S-Steve, I’m so fucking sorry, I should’ve—”

“Stop it,” Steve says. “You—you got him through—I was supposed to—”

I trusted you, and I was right; you brought him back to me.

“I let go,” Steve says through a wave of self-hatred. “I—I had him, and I let go.”

“Steve,” Eddie says, but Steve doesn’t deserve to hear the disagreement in his voice; there is nothing Eddie could say to ease this all-consuming guilt.

“I should’ve—he was my—”

Steve’s voice fails him, which is just as well. He doesn’t know how to finish that thought without it destroying him.

“I’m coming with you,” Nancy says, when they’re on dry land.

“What?” Steve says, exhausted.

“His—his mom. You’re not doing it alone.”

-

They might’ve won, but that doesn’t mean the town remained unscathed as each Gate shut. Violent tremors were felt all over; there’s a shortage of beds in the hospital, and there’s yet more people missing.

It helps Claudia accept it, at least. She’s not the only parent waiting in vain for a body to be recovered.

Nancy keeps her word, leading the explanation, but Steve forces himself to speak at the end, underlines that her son cannot come home—because he had seen how hope had destroyed the Hollands.

She nods silently.

You should hate me, Steve thinks. Hate me.

But the only emotion in her eyes is love—love and pain.

“I’m sorry,” Steve says. “I wasn’t quick enough.”

“No,” Eddie says suddenly.

He’s kept quiet up until now, hovering in a corner. Steve had tried to tell him that he didn’t have to come, that it could be dangerous for him to be seen. But even before Nancy started talking, Claudia had never once threatened to call the police.

“It was my fault,” Eddie continues. “I—”

“That’s not true,” Steve says. “Claudia, don’t listen to him, he’s—”

But Claudia is just staring at Eddie.

“You didn’t kill that poor girl,” she says.

“No,” he says, voice hoarse. “No, ma’am.”

“Dustin.” Claudia takes a deep breath. “He was protecting you.”

Eddie’s face crumples. “Yes.”

Claudia smiles sadly. Steve doesn’t know how she’s doing it, how she’s still standing—the strength it must take, for her not to scream.

“You must’ve been worth it,” she tells Eddie.

He has to leave the room, a hand covering his face.

-

There isn’t a funeral.

Claudia insists on putting up missing posters, even though it’s clear from the dullness in her eyes that she understood perfectly well what Nancy meant when she said, we lost him.

“I know it’s—” Claudia breaks off as Steve helps her make more copies. “I just—I just thought. Joyce, she…”

Steve puts up the posters around town. He can’t stand the thought of bystanders pitying the hope of a grieving mother. Not again.

-

Claudia calls, tells him to come over to the house. She says she’s got some of Dustin’s things in a box, not a lot, but just in case—just in case…

“He’d want you to have them,” she says.

Steve has to stand with the phone in his hand long after she’s hung up, breathing heavily. Then he does the round of calls. Nancy, Robin, Eddie.

He needs someone there, he knows it, otherwise he’ll never go back in the house.

He can’t face the kids. Can’t face the fact that he’s failed them.

“I—I can’t, man,” Eddie tells him over the phone, voice brittle. “I can’t go back there. I’m sorry.”

Steve doesn’t blame him.

-

Nancy gets the hint and accompanies Steve as they head into Dustin’s bedroom. Steve tries not to look at the bed, the pillows still rumpled from when Dustin last—

He picks up the small cardboard box left on the floor. He scans the top of it. It’s small things. A book on Morse Code. An almost empty can of Farrah Fawcett spray.

Nancy’s hand’s on his back, not doing anything, just resting there. She reaches into the box and picks up the can.

“You did his hair, right? For the Snow Ball?”

Steve nods. “Yeah.”

She’s smiling. “He looked so—so sweet.” She blinks rapidly, still smiling. Eyes growing wet. “I don’t know if—if he mentioned it, but. I danced with—”

“Are you kidding me?” Steve laughs, and it gets close to dangerous, to the grief spilling out, before he pulls it back at the last second. “Mentioned it? When I picked him up, it’s all he talked about. Nance, you made him feel like the coolest kid in school.”

-

Robin sits in the passenger seat, puts the box in between her knees so the things aren’t rattling about while Steve drives.

And she laughs too, except it fades off into a sob. “I forgot.”

He puts a hand out, and she takes it. “What?”

“He’d taken my library card,” she says. “So he could, um, check—” She clears her throat. “Check out more books.”

Steve’s knuckles turn white as he holds onto her. She never complains.

-

Eddie… drifts.

In some sense, Spring Break feels like a bad dream. The trailer’s back to normal, no gaping hole to another dimension in the ceiling, and the police tape gets removed so quickly that it’s almost laughable. He doesn’t care that the suspicion around him has dropped in the wake of a ‘natural disaster.’

He doesn’t really care about anything.

He keeps in touch just enough to know that Claudia is staying with her sister for a little while, left Steve the keys for watering the houseplants, probably.

And then Steve calls him from the Henderson’s house phone.

“I’m—I’m sorry, no—no-one else was picking up,” he says. “It’s—it’s his cat, I can’t—”

“Missing?” Eddie assumes, because Steve sounds one breath away from a panic attack. “Hurt?”

“No, no, just—please, can you come? Please.”

So Eddie does.

He hates every moment of the drive, but he does it.

He finds Steve in the bedroom, and fuck, it still looks so lived-in, like Dustin’s just stepped out for a moment, the room filled with nerdy teen clutter. Eddie’s sure that if he looked closely, he’d find notes from old campaigns littering the desk, but there’s no way he can remotely handle that, so he doesn’t.

There’s currently a more pressing sight, anyway.

Because Steve’s standing by Dustin’s bed, and he’s not looking at Eddie, because there’s a little Siamese cat blinking up at him.

“He’s gone,” Steve is saying.

The cat mews plaintively.

“He’s gone, okay?” Steve’s words get harsher. “What do you want me to—? He’s gone.”

Eddie steps forward, scoops up the cat—doesn’t flinch when its claws dig into him. “Come on, sweetheart, let’s get you some food.”

He goes to shut the door behind him, but not quick enough.

Steve’s not once cried throughout all of this—not anywhere that Eddie could see, at least.

He’s crying now. Silent, trembling—sinking down to the bed, a fist clenched around the sheets.

Eddie closes the door.

He gently lets the cat go when he’s in the kitchen, finds a can of wet food soon enough, in a cupboard underneath the sink.

That’s where he finds the notepad, too.

And too late, he realises it’s Dustin’s handwriting, that this was a log he’d made of each time he’d fed his cat, making sure to not repeat the same food twice in a row. ‘TUNA’ he’d scrawled in an obvious rush, like he was heading off somewhere, and then Eddie sees the date.

March 22nd.

He doesn’t know that he’s crying until Steve comes up behind him, puts a hand on his shoulder.

“Sorry,” Eddie gasps, “sorry, I’m sorry, I’m…”

Because this isn’t about him. Shouldn’t be about him.

Steve pulls him close.

I’m sorry, Eddie thinks. He was yours. I’m sorry.

“It’s okay,” Steve whispers. “It’s okay, it’s okay.”

It sounds like, You loved him, too. It’s okay.

-

Steve spends the night at the trailer.

It’s late when Eddie wakes up to an empty side of the bed. He gets up, walks slowly, slowly until he can just barely squint into the living room.

Steve doesn’t notice him. He’s standing on a chair, arm outstretched. Fingertips brushing the ceiling.

“Are you there?” he murmurs.

Eddie’s heart sinks like a stone.

Steve waits in the silence. His hand shakes.

“I’m here,” he says. “I’m here.”

-

They both know what it means—the nights together, sleeping so closely, skin to skin.

One of them will find the other lying awake, and a chaste kiss will be pressed against a shoulder, shh, shh. They don’t talk about it, don’t initiate anything more.

Their world is too heavy for it.

Steve wants to tell Dustin anyway. Wants him to give them both so much shit for it, let his goddamn horrendous ego run wild.

Tell me again, Eddie whispers at two in the morning.

Steve breathes in, out. Starts the story with a ridiculous kid tugging red roses out of his hand.

-

“Come over,” Steve says. It’s nine o’clock at night. His voice is jagged. “My place.”

Eddie finds him just standing in the hall.

“Nancy called,” he says, too matter-of-fact. “‘Bout an hour ago, Holly’s Lite-Brite lit up, almost burned her. The power went off.”

Eddie tries to temper his voice, but when he says, “Steve,” he almost cringes at the pity in it.

“Don’t,” Steve says. “I know. I know. But.” He jerks his head upstairs. “I need you. I need you to—to tell me what I’m looking at.”

The bedside lamp is on in Steve’s room. There’s a book on translating Morse Code left open on the floor.

The light is blinking.

Steve searches Eddie’s face desperately. “That’s the—that’s what you did, right? SOS?”

Eddie picks up the book. Sits on the bed, knees weak.

“Yes,” he says.

Steve closes his eyes, exhales in a shudder. “Oh my god, you can see it. Okay, okay.”

He opens his eyes, and it looks like he’s fighting with himself, caught between wanting to say more and destroying the fragile hope he has.

So Eddie says it for him.

“Dustin?”

YES.

After Eddie translates, Steve stares at the lamp. His hand reaches out. Fingers curl around thin air.

“How do we know?” he asks. “How do we know it’s—”

DUMBASS.

Steve starts to laugh. A tear falls down his cheek.

“I can hear him,” he says. “Jesus Christ, I can hear him.”

And then Eddie can, too—so, so faintly. The tiniest giggle.

He sounds exhausted.

WATERGATE. TEAR. NOT STRONG ENOUGH.

“The—the tear?” Eddie says.

ME.

“We’re coming,” Steve says. His fingertips graze the lightbulb. “We’re coming, Dustin.”

HURRY.

-

They don’t tell anyone. Steve puts his phone off the hook before they leave, because Nancy is bound to call repeatedly.

They get into the boat and push off into Lover’s Lake without a word. It’s an unspoken agreement: they’ll get him back or die trying.

They dive together. Search the river bed, stones slipping through their fingers until…

A smooth ridge of plastic. Eddie’s guitar pick.

They pull.

The gap is small, but they make it—and when they emerge into The Upside Down, there’s no particles floating around, but the air is thin.

The landscape is disappearing. Dying.

Just next to the Gate lies Dustin. His hand is outstretched, like he’d fallen while reaching towards home.

“He’s not breathing,” Eddie says, hushed and terrified.

“Tilt his head back,” Steve says, already on his knees. They don’t have time to panic. “Lift his chin.”

“Okay, okay.”

“You’re gonna do the breaths, okay? One second, then—”

“I know, I know what to—”

“You got him?”

“Y-yeah.”

Steve starts compressions. Shouts, “Now!” to Eddie when it’s time.

One second. Pause. One second.

Repeat.

“Come on, Dustin, you’ve gotta breathe,” Eddie pleads through Steve’s counting. “We’re here, we’re here, you’ve gotta—”

Steve slams on his chest. Once.

“—breathe, we love you so fucking much, just—”

Twice.

“—breathe!”

Dustin launches upwards, into Steve’s arms, coughing, coughing.

Breathing.

“That’s it,” Eddie sobs, “oh my God, that’s it.”

-

They leave when Dustin communicates through shaky hand gestures that he can hold his breath. It’s far from ideal—Steve doesn’t like it at all, but there’s no way they can linger; the hole they’d made to break through the Gate is already threatening to close.

Besides, with both him and Eddie pulling Dustin up, it’s the quickest swim of their lives.

The Gate shuts behind them, as if it had never been.

-

Up to the surface. Clinging to Dustin, hearing him gasp, splutter.

“You with me? Hey, hey, you with me?”

Dustin nods; Steve pulls him on board, Eddie right behind in case he falls.

Silence. Breathing. Dustin up against his chest, shaking.

Eddie mutters, “Here, here,” passing over the towels that they’d brought with what had felt like foolish optimism.

“You—you d-didn’t bring a ch-change of clothes?” Dustin says, with biting, wonderful sarcasm. His teeth chatter, and Eddie wraps him in another towel. “D-do I do all the th-thinking around here?”

Steve’s answering laugh turns into weeping—he runs a towel over Dustin’s hair, sobs through a smile when Dustin whines out a petulant complaint.

“I’ve got you,” Steve says. He kisses his forehead. “I’ve got you.”

“I know,” Dustin says. He shuffles closer, cuddles further into Steve’s chest even though they’re all soaking wet. “Knew… knew you’d come.” His hand reaches to the side, fumbling for Eddie. “Sorry. Think I broke your… your pick.”

Eddie just shakes his head, tearful, a hand covering his mouth.

“Yeah,” Steve says, “I really don’t think he cares, bud.”

“My mom’s gonna freak,” Dustin mumbles. His head is nodding tiredly as he says it.

“Yeah,” Steve echoes. He swallows. “She—she will.”

Eddie picks up the oar. Dustin sighs, lax with sleep. Steve can feel him breathing.

And he’ll have changed in some ways—they all have, it’s inevitable. It would be naive to think otherwise.

But the glimmer of him is still there, in his voice.

He’s back.

Steve holds Dustin tight—keeps him as warm as he can as Eddie rows, taking them home, home, home.

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer Park Steve AU part 6

part 1 | part 5

October

It's Wednesday night, which means dinner at the Hendersons. Steve finally decided to show his face — and no, not because Dustin's doorstep song and dance had any effect on him; it was partly because he was sick of hearing muted metal music from across the street and mostly because he hadn't left the trailer in three days and he was starting to feel and smell like shit.

So, anyway. Dinner. Ma Henderson's pulled out all the stops: prepped a homemade lasagna, stocked the fridge with full-sugar sodas and bought the good brand of key lime pie; invited the Sinclair and Wheeler kids to make a little party of it. (Nancy was 'unfortunately too busy to attend,' thank fucking god.)

But then Ma got stuck late at work, so now it's all hands on deck. Mike and Erica are setting the table — Steve can hear Mike bitching at her because she told him the knives go the other way, dumbass; Lucas is at the fridge filling cups with ice and Pepsi and muttering to himself about how much better Coke is; Steve's got an eye on the oven, waiting for the cheese on the lasagna to bubble up juuust right; and Dustin is using "prepping the salad" as an excuse to corner Steve and annoy the ever-loving crap out of him.

“What do you mean it’s hard?” Dustin whines, dropping a handful of shredded carrots into the wooden bowl. “Just talk to him!”

Steve takes a deep breath. Mourns, briefly, for the night he could have had; the girls he could be doing hand stuff with in the back of the Beemer instead of putting up with this kid's shit. “I don’t wanna Just Talk to Him." He bends to peek through the oven door. "And, also: get off my ass about it, alright? I came to dinner, I'm heating up the lasagna. I'm, like, participating or whatever. What more do you want?”

“For you to talk to Eddie! Obviously!" Dustin's tossing the greens so aggressively that it kinda feels like he wishes he was pummeling Steve instead, and when he throws his hands up, little flecks of iceberg lettuce go raining to the floor.

Steve eyes the leafy green confetti. "You're cleaning that up."

"Come on, dude," Dustin begs. "It's been two weeks! What's the point of having friends who are next door neighbors if they refuse to get along?”

Behind them, Lucas supplies in a weirdly strangled tone: “This really doesn’t seem like the way to get him to talk to Eddie."

Thank you. Steve couldn't agree more. He turns to tell him as much and realizes the reason Lucas' voice sounded like that is because he's trying to make one trip to the dining room at any fucking cost. He's got an armful of drinking glasses and three cans of Pepsi tucked under his chin, and he's about to fumble the whole wobbly stack.

"Jesus Christ, man, cut that out!" Steve swoops in to grab the cans before they can join the lettuce shower Dustin just made. He doesn't care how much he loves Claudia, he will leave without helping if they splatter soda all over this floor. Mews the Second can lick it clean for all he cares, he's so for real. "Two at a time," he says sternly, taking the extra cups from Lucas’ hold and handing him back a reasonable amoint. He sends Lucas out of the room with a knee to the ass.

"Hey!" Lucas pouts.

"Hey yourself," he grins.

Lucas sticks out his tongue like a child (because he is one, Steve reminds himself), and when he shoulders the swinging door to the dining room he almost brains his little sister, who makes a graceful side-step and comes strutting through undeterred.

"Are you two nerds done playing good cop, annoying cop with Steve?"

"Ah-!" Dustin gawps. "I better not be the annoying cop!"

"Uh, yeah. Obviously, you are." She props a fist on her hip, a little tyrant in the making, and Steve’s ribs go tender with a fond, vaguely proud ache. He really loves her so much. "Now scram. I need to borrow Steve."

On second thought.

Surely at some point these kids, like, owe him money or some shit for the amount of weary sighs they've caused him to let out. Like, financial compensation for the years taken off his life? Something?

"Yes, Erica?" he asks, nostrils flared; eyes closed.

"You should talk to Eddie."

"Oh, Jesus fucking Christ." Steve looks up to the ceiling, pleading for anyone to grant him strength, then he turns to pull the lasagna out of the oven and watches the bubbles sizzle and pop in the hot cheese until he no longer feels like blowing up at a little girl. "Okay. Okay. And I should listen to you because…?"

Screw financial compensation.

He deserves a presidential medal for how calm he's keeping his tone.

Erica's glaring fiercely at him when he glances her way, and why is every kid he knows such a brave, confrontational little shit? "Because," she explains, "He's being mean to my brother."

Oh, fuck no. "What do you mean?" he asks, voice dropping to an urgent hiss as he feels his hackles raise. Like hell is he letting some Billy 2.0 hang around his kids. "Is he, like- Is he saying shit about you guys?"

She spares him from trying to find a tactful way to ask what he's really asking. "No," she says shortly. "But he is being a bastard about him joining the basketball team—"

"Language—" Oh, what's the point.

"—and those two nerds out there? Are obsessed with him. Especially Mike. Like, ob-sessed.” She writes the letters out in the air in front of her to really drive home the point. “Mike likes whatever Eddie likes, so you need to convince Eddie to like Lucas before Lucas loses his friends over this stupid 'jocks versus freaks' crap." She lowers her voice and jabs the skywriting finger into his shoulder hard enough to bruise. "And if you tell Lucas I said any of this? It is on. sight, Steve. I will crush you."

"Jesus Christ."

"So, we good?"

"Uh huh," Steve stammers. "Y-yep. Understood."

Wow. So dignified, Steve. Really loved how you let a ten year old intimidate you. He's saved from any further bullying by the sound of keys jangling in the lock.

"Dusty!" Claudia calls out through the door, "Dustybunny, can you come help? My hands are full!"

In the dining room Steve hears Dustin groan while Mike and Lucas start immediately tearing into him for the name, mocking 'Dustybunny; oh, Dustybun!' in stupid sing-song tones.

"So I'm just gonna..." Steve says awkwardly, inching toward the door. "Go get that."

"Mhmm." Erica gives him an unimpressed look. "You do that."

—

"Oh, Steve, sweetie, thank you!" Claudia says when he opens the door, cheerful and sweet as always. He goes to take her bags from her, but she drops them all at her feet and steps forward to give him a hug, a firm and tender thing that makes an annoying lump form in his throat.

"How are you?" she asks, stepping back to look at him; eyes raking over his face, hands on his cheeks. Really looks. She frowns at whatever she sees. "How's your mom?"

"Can you please just talk to me?" Steve begs, shivering in the hallway because they haven't budgeted for turning on the heat just yet. Wasn't supposed to get this cold for another pay cycle. He tugs the ends of his sweatshirt sleeves. His limbs feel stiff and tense, a budding anxiety like there’s a bomb in the base of his spine.

"Steven, darling, not now," his mother sighs as she sinks demurely onto the couch. "Then when!" he explodes. He doesn't want to yell at her, but, "Seriously, when? When are we going to say anything to each other that actually fucking matters, mom? I feel like I barely even know you anymore!"

"Yes, and I feel a migraine coming on; are you quite finished?"

"….She's fine," Steve answers.

Could be true, for all he knows.

The wrinkles between Claudia's brows deepen, like she wants to press the subject but decides to hold her tongue. "That's good to hear," she settles on after a moment, giving him a gentle pat on the cheek before stepping away with a subtle look that’s not mad, just disappointed.

Steve kind of wants to cry.

"Mom! Food!" Dustin hollers from the other room.

Steve rolls his eyes. "I swear I try to teach him manners."

"Well, good luck with that," she grins, the shadow of tension between them dissipating. Her mood is good like that. Resilient. Strong. Immune to outside force.

Steve’s moods, on the other hand, are more like those stainless steel fridges that promise to remain spotless but then end up covered in grubby handprints. (Exhibit A: he’s doing it right now.)

Thankfully Claudia’s got enough sunshine in her for the both of them. “Come on,” she says, extending a hand and wiggling her fingers for him to grab hold. “Let's eat."

—

part 7

[missingexaltation]

"Steve stays with Eddie at the hospital" this and "Dustin stays with Eddie at the hospital" that.

Where's my "Wayne stays at the hospital with Eddie, and gets inducted into the upside down shenanigans when the other adults hear the news while comforting their kids" fic?

Hopper isn't Eddie's biggest fan because of the drugs thing. The kid's a fucking nightmare to get through to, but Wayne's a good man, a vet, and he deserves to know the truth as to why his nephew is in the hospital. On top of that, he squares things with Wayne's job to make sure he's not fired for absence, and takes the time to explain the past few years of hell in Hawkins to him. The more they talk, the more Hopper realises what they've been through, and how much bad luck and prejudice has forced them into near poverty.

Joyce stops by with Murray, and between them they manage to get the Munsons the same governmental protection and compensation that they have bargained for. There won't be any fees for Eddie's hospital stay, their old debts are wiped, and they get a new home (a house!) to replace the one they lost. The government agents are good, but Joyce is better, and Murray is terrifying.

Claudia Henderson stops by with meals, treats and books, often bringing her son with her. Eddie saved her boy's life, she says, and she'll do whatever she can do repay them both. She's the one who gets Eddie his diploma, getting him graduated on a technicality, and Wayne cries when he finds out. She's sweet and unrelenting, and a wonderful, wonderful lady. (Wayne won't admit it, but he's very much tongue-tied and brain-soupy when she's around.)

It takes a few weeks for Eddie to wake up, and a few months before he can leave the hospital. In that time Wayne realises that he has a new network of people he can rely on. For the first time in years he's out of debt, has enough cash to spoil his nephew like he deserves, and an actual house for a home, instead of that fucking trailer.

Hell, he even has a garden big enough for growing vegetables now, and that's something he's dreamed of for years. And a porch to sit on in the evenings with whoever stops by (or Eddie, who seems to be enjoying the peace and quiet for once).

[somnambulic-thing]

Found family fluff with Eddie and Wayne, you said? This is for @storiesbyrhi <3 1.8k, fluffy stuff ahead | Eddie & Wayne, Eddie & Dustin, Eddie & Mews, Wayne/Claudia Henderson [Or: The Hendermunsons, like I call them.] didn't really read it back, very likely very messy

It’s 86, baby, and Eddie snatches his diploma, flips off most of Hawkins High and storms off the stage. Wayne is already up and on his way to meet his boy, well aware of the plan Eddie had made way back when he had failed his first Senior year, and Wayne wasn’t going to spoil the fun for his kid. In his opinion, Principal Higgins got off easy with just a middle finger.

Out in the parking lot, Wayne pulls Eddie into a firm hug, tells him he’s proud, so proud, pats his shoulders a little too hard, maybe, but he really is proud and when he holds Eddie by his outstretched arms, both men look a little teary.

“You ready for the next adventure, kid?”

Eddie’s grin could split the pavement. “Hell yeah, Wayne. You’ve no idea.”

Wayne walks to the driver’s side of his car and smiles a decent smile himself. “I raised ya, Ed. I think I got an inkling about that.”

Later that day, the two Munsons knock at the Hendersons door and are greeted with cheers and kisses; Eddie to both cheeks, Wayne to the mouth. Claudia is excited, has made every little treat she knows Eddie loves and there is enough food to feed eight people instead of four.

“How are you feeling, Eddie?” Claudia asks, cheeks pink, eyes a little teary. “Excited?”

“I’m good, I’m good. You can’t bawl on me before dinner though, I need some sustenance before that.”

She cups his cheeks and gives him a little pat, smiling up at him. “Of course. Dusty is in his room, go say hello while your uncle and I get everything ready.”

Dustin’s door is ajar and Eddie knocks against the doorframe, giving him no real time to respond before entering. “Ohhh Duuuusty-buuun,” he croons and is met with a massive eye-roll and an annoyed stare which holds for five full seconds before he breaks out into a big fat grin.

“There he is, Eddie the Graduate!” Dustin bows down low, his think cap slipping off his curly head. “Most metal departure ever! Even Nancy cheered!”

Eddie snatches the cap from the floor before Dustin can, puts it on and flops down on the bed, arms spread out. “Man,” he sighs, “I still can’t believe that I finally made it.”

The mattress dips a little as Dustin sits down and the silly giggle Eddie considers home by now fills him with a weird kind of warmth that toes the line between comfort and anxiety.

“Yeah, dude, non of us can really believe it,” Dustin says and Eddie pulls up his brows until they almost hit the visor of the cap.

“Rude?”

Dustin’s eyes go wide, “No, no, no! That’s not what I mean!”

“What do you mean?”

“That… well, that we’re going to miss you, man.” Dustin rubs the back of his head and mumbles, “that I’m going to miss you… you know… you’re like the big brother I always wanted… and Hawkins won’t be the same without you now…”

“Uhh, fuck,” Eddie groans and presses his palms to his eyes. “The Hendersons and their tear-jerking properties.”

He sits up, sees the slight pout on Dustin’s face and puts and arm around his shoulder, ruffling through his curls, swallowing a small lump before he speaks again. “I’ll visit, as much as I can, okay?”

“Yeah, of course, I don’t mean to rain on your parade, man…”

“You better use your time wisely, I want to test out your DM qualities the first time I’m back.”

“What?” Dustin looks shocked, and starts to stammer. “I… no… that’s… weird, no Eddie, no, I… I… horrible idea… could never…”

Eddie laughs and pulls his arm around Dustin’s shoulder a little tighter. “Speak after me: I, Dustin Henderson…”

“I, Dustin Henderson…”

“…will be a great Dungeon Master!”

“…will be a great Dungeon Master!”

“Good,” Eddie smirks and pokes the tip of his tongue out his mouth. “It’s okay to not be as formidable as I am, kiddo, it’s hard to keep up with the divine…”

“Ass,” Dustin mutters, shoving Eddie slightly but they both chuckle softly.

“But no, hey, really… Don’t try to do what I did. You do your own thing and it will be great.”

“You sure?”

“Oh, yeah,” Eddie says and slumps back to the mattress again. “Would never have bullied you into taking over Hellfire if I wasn’t. M’ actually pretty fucking relieved to know it will be in good hands… don’t tell Wheeler, but I was considering failing another year when he declared his interest in taking over…”

“Man, would I be pissed after all those hours tutoring your antsy ass,” Dustin laughs and nudges Eddie’s knee with his own. “Your secret is safe with me.”

A soft knock on the door, then Wayne’s face appears in the doorframe. “You boys hungry?”

“Starving,” they say in unison and hop off the bed.

As they make their way into the kitchen Eddie remembers the first time he walked into the Hendersons house about a year ago on a mission to teach Dustin everything he knew about being a Dungeon Master. It had been like the house wanted him here, like it tried to persuade him that this was a place he needed to come back to, like the secrets on how to go on with his life that he sometimes was so weary of lay here in this humble one-story home.

It didn’t take long for Dustin to notice a pattern in the way Eddie did certain things. The kid started asking all kinds of weird questions about how Eddie went about his assignments at school and after he’d reluctantly answered all the very uncomfortable stuff, he could see a light bulb turn on and explode over Dustin’s head. Turned out that Dustin spent his summers at science camp with a lot of kids in need of alternative ways of learning and that over the years, Dustin had picked up on a few tricks himself. Tricks that worked wonders with Eddie. Soon, Dustin declared Eddie a fucking brain that just needed some directions from someone who was willing to be patient enough to show them to him.

Meeting Dustin hadn’t only changed Eddie’s life but also the life of his uncle and Eddie was proud of that. Proud that something he did ultimately lead to Wayne being as happy as Eddie had ever seen him.

Eddie had spent so much time at the Hendersons that Claudia one day told him to invite Wayne for dinner so that Eddie wouldn’t have to leave early to catch Wayne before his night shifts started. There had been nothing to prepare Eddie for how much of a flirt his uncle could be. Claudia had not stood a chance.

“Uhn, hey, Dustin?” he asks before they make it to the dark wood table Eddie was so familiar with by now and Dustin turns around, eyebrows high and waiting.

“Yeah?”

“I’ll miss you too, little brother.” Dustin’s eyes are huge, his lower lip slightly quivering and before he can speak, Eddie pulls him into a hug. “I owe you so much, dude. If you ever need anything you call me and I’m here as fast as I can, you hear me?”

“Uh-hn,” Dustin gulps against Eddie’s shoulder. “I will.”

“Good,” he releases Dustin, holds him by his shoulders and smiles. “Good.”

“Same goes for you, by the way,” he says a little shaky, reaching up to pluck his cap from Eddie’s head but Eddie evades him by leaning back.

“I’m keeping that.”

“What? Why? It’s my favourite!”

Eddie rolls his eyes and walks past Dustin towards the table where Wayne and Claudia are waiting, faces soft from what they surely just have witnessed. “Because it looks much better on me—“

“Asshole,” Dustin half laughs half grumbles, plopping down on his chair.

“Dusty!” Claudia says in shock while Wayne grins behind his hand. “Apologize to Eddie.”

“Nah! I kinda deserved it…” Eddie grins and looks around the room, “Where is Mews? He didn’t even say hello.”

“Oh,” Claudia stands up and hurries to open the porch doors. “Meeeewsieee!… He just went out for a walk right before you got here… Meeeeews… Eddie… come try it yourself, will you?”

Eddie joins Claudia at the door, puts his hands around his mouth and calls for the cat. “Oh, Meeeeews, where are youuuu?”

“MEOW!”

“I don’t believe it,” Claudia chuckles, strokes Eddie’s shoulder and walks back to the table as Eddie squats down, waiting, until Mews rushes out of an elder bush and right into his arms. He picks him up, scratching the special spot between his ears, the ginger fur soft between his fingertips.

“Hey buddy.” Eddie puts a kiss on Mews forehead and moves to sit down.

“Can we start eatin’ now?” Wayne says, eyeing the food impatiently. “I’m starving.”

“Sure, sure,” Eddie waits for Mews to find the best position on his lap. “Go ahead, you don’t have to wait for me. You know I have no table manners…”

“That may be, but I wanted to make a toast and I’d like for you to pay attention when I’m doin’ it, Ed.”

“A toast?” Eddie frowns.

“It’s a custom occurring during gatherings of people to honour something or someon— ouch,” Dustin shrieks, pulling up his leg to rub at his shin.

“Sorry,” Eddie winces, “wasn’t meant to be that hard.”

“Meow!”

Dustin laughs in disbelief. “Good thing you’re gone soon—“

“Meow?”

“You had to be a smartass, Dusty—“

“Well, you had to be a dumbass—“

“Boys!”

“Sorry Wayne,” they say in unison again, then fall quiet.

There is a smirk lingering somewhere around Wayne’s eyes, breaking out fully as he clears his throat and lifts his glass.

“This is to Eddie, my boy, who will leave Hawkins soon to bring chaos to Indianapolis and who hopefully won’t electrocute himself at his new job with that fancy guitar manufacturer because no matter what a menace he can be; I’m proud of him, always will be proud of him… and I love you, son. Cheers!”

“Cheers!”

“Meow!”

“Uhm, shit, uhm, thank you..” A stray tear runs down Eddie’s cheek and he lets it. Mews paws press against his stomach and he figures it doesn’t matter that he’s too overwhelmed to say something half as meaningful because they all knew it was there, somewhere inside him. “I… thank you… like… all of you. Truly.”

“Alright, my boys,” Claudia says, with a thick voice. “Let’s eat—“

“Not quite yet,” Wayne says and turns in his seat, glass raised once more. “And this is to my beautiful Claudia and to Dustin, who are willing to take an old man like me in and share their home with him. I’m one lucky bastard.”

“Cheers,” Eddie and Dustin laugh out, smiles splitting their faces while Claudia, cheeks flushed pink, presses a hearty kiss to Wayne’s cheekbone.

“You’re very welcome.”

“Yeah,” Dustin says, starting to load food onto his plate. “You’re welcome.”

[findafight]

Steddie shovel talk fic but it's Mrs Henderson talking sweetly and heavily implying to Eddie that's she's killed a man and gotten away with it and no one would believe him if he told anyone about it