#deaf steve harrington

[libraryofgage]

Good Vibrations Part One

Hello, it's me, back at it again with another Steddie AU.

Anyway, if I were tagging this AU, these would be the most important ones: Deaf Steve Harrington; Tooth-rotting Fluff; Getting Together

If you wanna be tagged in future parts, just let me know!

As always, if you see any typos, no you didn't ;)

----

Steve has blown through three pairs of hearing aids in the past year. The first pair had lasted a few years and needed replacement because of normal wear and tear. The second pair was sacrificed during that fight with Jonathan. He hadn't been wearing them, but they'd been in Steve's pocket, and he'd landed at just the right angle to feel them shatter. The third pair was taken by the Russians because, despite Robin's shouting and cursing at them for being dumbasses (and this was before she actually knew what they were for), they accused him of recording their kidnapping and torture.

Honestly, he wouldn't recommend fighting Russians and Billy and Mind Flayers and driving while nearly totally deaf.

The funniest part of it all, though, is that Steve doesn't even use hearing aids regularly. He normally only wears them at home. The pair lost to Jonathan were present because, well, that whole day had been a lot for Steve, and he needed the comfort of knowing he could stop reading lips the moment it became too exhausting for him. The pair lost to the Russians was because he'd been getting ready to tell Robin about being deaf. She'd already clocked the weird things he does (well, weird to her, normal to Steve), and he figured letting her in on the big secret would bring them a little closer.

Of course, that didn't go the way he expected. Robin thought he was confessing love and decided to beat him to the punch. That's how he learned Robin is a lesbian, and Steve couldn't let her be the only one admitting to something like that, so he told her about being bi and his long-standing, hopeless crush. And being deaf. But the bi with a crush thing seemed more important in the moment. She took it in stride, it brought them closer, and then Robin asked if Steve could teach her sign language.

Which meant that Steve had to learn sign language because he never had. Between not wanting to feel even more different than he already did and trying to convince his parents that, really, everything was fine and he didn't need to go to a special school for deaf and hard-of-hearing kids, he'd never learned. Learning it had somehow felt like an admission of weakness, and that was the last thing he wanted. But he learned for Robin, and they stumbled through sign language together, creating new signs only they knew.

But that's all in the past now, and Steve is working his ass off at Family Video to afford a new pair because he refuses to ask his parents for money. If he asks them, they'll come back, and that's the last thing he wants. They don't need to have all their worries confirmed that Steve is helpless, and he doesn't want them anywhere near Hawkins "Hellscape" Indiana.

So. Working his ass off, taking extra shifts, and babysitting the kids as much as he can to make up for the whole Friends and Family Discount he gives their parents. He's exhausted, but he gets to recharge somewhat during his lunch break.

About a ten-minute walk from the Family Video is a record store, which Steve has started visiting daily to just breathe. The lone worker in the store is usually too busy listening to her own music to pay Steve any attention, letting him wander and try to determine which records will best serve him.

Steve drifts over to the rock and heavy metal section, hoping to find a new album but unsurprised when he doesn't. He browses through them anyway, moving past Metallica and Black Sabbath and Iron Maiden. He already has all of these albums on his shelf at home. He has the cassette tapes for them, too.

But he really wants something new. He likes the novelty of experiencing unfamiliar vibrations through the speaker, letting them thrum through his fingertips and into his bones. It's fun and relaxing, and after all the bullshit he's been through lately, he probably deserves something relaxing.

After glancing over a few more familiar albums, Steve sighs and glances at the counter by the door. The lone worker is standing there, headphones over her ears, and idly flipping through a magazine. She's chewing gum, and Steve braces himself for the sheer hell of trying to read her lips without making it obvious he's reading her lips while she's got something in her mouth to disrupt the normal shape of words and sounds.

But he has to try. Steve takes one more deep breath before walking over, shoving his hands into his pockets when he comes to a stop at the counter. The girl raises a hand, motioning for him to wait, so he stays quiet as she finishes reading her page. She flips to the next one before looking up, not making any move to pull her headphones off.

"Hi. Do you have any new rock or metal albums coming in soon," Steve asks, feeling the vibrations of speech in his throat and hoping his words aren't too loud.

They don't seem to be. The girl doesn't flinch or pull back. She just looks him up and down, taking in the polo shirt and the nice khakis and the Family Video vest he forgot to take off before leaving. Finally, her neck and shoulders jerk slightly, and Steve knows she's huffed in annoyance. "No," she says, the word clear enough in the shape of her lips for Steve to know it immediately.

He frowns slightly, his fingernails digging into his palms. Steve wouldn't mind just leaving now, but something keeps him there. He just...he really wants new music. He needs something new. "Are there gonna be any shows nearby?" he asks.

The girl rolls her eyes and says something, her mouth distorted by gum-chewing. Steve can barely make out the words "you" and "check" from her response. Thankfully, it's accompanied by a vague gesture at something behind him. Steve looks over his shoulder to see a bulletin board with flyers plastered across it.

"Right. Thanks," he says, nodding to her before walking over. The flyers are all different colors with various fonts that scream for Steve's attention. Some of them are for bands, some are advertisements of garage sales or instruments in need of a new home, and others are just business flyers from stores nearby.

He's seen the bulletin board before, but he's never actually paid attention to it. Steve has always been laser-focused on browsing the records. But now, Steve carefully reviews each flyer advertising shows. Some are for comedy shows, which he immediately dismisses. One seems promising, but then he sees how far it is, and Steve definitely can't do an overnight trip like that.

Finally, Steve sees a flyer advertising a show at the Hideout later that week. It's close enough that he won't be out overnight. The place is kind of seedy, but Steve figures he can find some corner near the stage to hide. Or he can bring Robin and let her help him navigate any potential social situations. He tugs the flyer off the board, gaze lingering on the "Corroded Coffin" emblazoned across the top.

He knows the band. Of course, he knows the band. He's extremely familiar with their singer. From a distance. Honestly, Eddie Munson probably doesn't have the best impression of him, but Steve's heart never really cared about that. Because Eddie is like everything Steve wants to be: he's loud and unafraid of being so, he doesn't care about his image and how others perceive him, and he looks like his laugh sounds beautiful. Steve wouldn't know if he's actually right about that last point, but Eddie throws his head back when he laughs, eyes crinkled and hand over his stomach like his muscles ache.

His mouth suddenly feels dry, but he's also filled with unprecedented courage. Steve has graduated (barely), and that means a significantly lower chance of running into Eddie during the day if watching the show somehow goes wrong.

Steve folds the flyer into quarters and stuffs it into his back pocket. He'll be overly aware of it being there until Robin starts her shift and he can show it to her, but that's okay. He throws a quick thanks over his shoulder as he leaves the shop, glancing up at the bell he can't hear that signals the door's opening. He vaguely remembers what bells are supposed to sound like (he'd heard a few before losing the ability to hear them), but he doesn't let himself dwell on it.

Instead, he focuses on the trip back to Family Video, keeping an eye on the road to watch for any cars he wouldn't notice otherwise.

----

When the final bell rings, Eddie Munson can't get out of class fast enough. He'd been packed for the last five minutes, and he slid out of his seat the moment that first peal rang out. He has a gig to prepare for, and every second counts. At least, each second counts until he notices something (or someone) that could prove entertaining for a while.

He spots Dustin alone near one of the exits, and Eddie decides to relieve the kid of his isolation. He waits until he's behind Dustin to shout, "Henderson!" and throw his arm over the kid's shoulders, ignoring the way he jumps like he'd been expecting an attack.

"Holy shit!" Dustin shrieks, jerking back to look up at Eddie. "Don't do that, man, you're gonna give me a heart attack."

Eddie snorts, waving away Dustin's concern as he continues toward the exit. The general flow of students trying to get out helps him along, and Dustin doesn't seem to realize they're actually moving until they've gotten into direct sunlight. "You're fine," Eddie says, "Anyway, whatcha doing all alone, Henderson? Lose your way?"

"No, I have...stuff to do today," Dustin says, shrugging as he blinks to acclimate to the sunlight.

Oh, yeah, way too cryptic for Eddie to not dig for more. "Stuff? What kinda stuff? Got a hot date? Going shopping with your mom?" he asks, and then he gasps dramatically and moves to stand in Dustin's way. He puts both hands on his shoulders and very seriously says, "Be honest, Henderson, you're seeing another DM, aren't you?"

Dustin stares at him for a few seconds before rolling his eyes and shrugging his hands off. "Who else in this town DMs?" he asks, "Other than Will, I guess, but he's still working on a campaign."

"Fair," Eddie concedes, "so, whatcha really doing?"

After a few seconds of getting nudged by the students around them, Dustin sighs and says, "I have chores, okay? But that doesn't sound cool to say, does it?"

Fair. Eddie nods in agreement and moves out of Dustin's way, continuing to follow him. "So, what, your mom picking you up today?" he asks.

"No, Steve."

"Oh, the famous Steve."

Dustin nods, looking over the parking lot before pointing to one end. "Yeah, he's awesome," Dustin says as Eddie follows the direction of his finger.

And standing there, leaning against the hood of his car and looking to the side where a group of trees is swaying in the breeze, is Steve Harrington. Steve "The Hair" Harrington. King Steve. The worst thing, Eddie thinks, is that Steve looks good. His hair is still perfect, of course, and his stupid little striped shirt is pulling against his biceps and riding up just enough for Eddie to see a tiny sliver of tanned skin above his jeans. He looks a little tense, but Eddie chalks that up to him being back on the campus after already graduating.

"Harrington? You've been talking about Steve Harrington this whole time?" Eddie asks, his voice a little strained, "How the fuck do you know Steve Harrington?"

"He's my babysitter," Dustin says, his voice implying that much should have been obvious, but Eddie wants to grab his shoulders and shake until his head rolls off.

Steve Harrington doesn't babysit. He doesn't know nerds that talk about D&D. He doesn't drive nerds around. At least, he never did in high school. Granted, Eddie never actually talked to Steve, but everybody knew that Steve Harrington was too cool for, well, anything that wasn't the typical jock and popular guy shit.

As he's thinking about the last time he saw Steve Harrington (in the halls, while the guy had bruises and looked worse for wear), they get within shouting distance. And Eddie has zero impulse control when Wayne isn't around, so he doesn't think before shouting, "Hey, Harrington!"

Next to him, Dustin whips his head to glare at Eddie. And Steve Harrington doesn't fucking react. He just keeps staring at that group of trees like it's the most fascinating thing in the world. "Dude," Dustin says, grabbing Eddie's arm and yanking harshly, "don't shout like that."

Eddie frowns, anger beginning to simmer in his stomach at the complete lack of acknowledgment. "Why are you upset with me?" he asks, gesturing at Steve as he continues, "I'm not the one being a douchebag here."

Dustin opens his mouth, about to say something, only to snap it shut once more. He frowns like he's just realized he can't say something, and huffs with frustration. "Just...just don't do that," he finally says, keeping a hand on Eddie's arm and dragging him across the parking lot. And, yeah, something is definitely weird here.

Instead of just walking up to Steve, they make a large arch until they're within Steve's line of sight.

Eddie watches as Steve notices them, seeing Dustin first and pushing off the car. He relaxes for a split second until he sees Eddie and his shoulders tense again.

Great.

Once they're close enough for Eddie to count the moles above the collar of Steve's shirt, Dustin grins and says, "Hey, Steve." But it's odd, because Eddie has never heard Dustin talk this slow or this carefully, like he's doing his best to enunciate his words.

Steve flashes a grin and ruffles Dustin's hair. "Hey, twerp, you're late," he says. He then glances at Eddie, his grin becoming a little smaller, and says, "Hey, Munson."

Wait. Steve Harrington knows Eddie's name? And he called him by it? He said Munson, not Freak. Eddie stares at Steve for a few seconds before nodding. "Harrington," he says, "how the fuck did you become a babysitter?"

Is he just imagining things, or is Steve looking at his mouth? Like, really intensely. He's definitely not, because Steve looks up after a few seconds with a raised eyebrow. "I needed some extra cash. Also, don't swear around Dustin. I'm the one who gets in trouble when he curses in front of his mom."

Something about the words makes Eddie grin. Never in a million years would he have guessed that he'd be talking to Steve Harrington. And he would have laughed you into Mordor itself if you suggested their conversation would be about Dustin Henderson swearing in front of his mother. "What's his mom do when he swears?" he asks.

Because he can feel the conversation veering into something potentially embarrassing for him, Dustin lets go of Eddie and starts pushing Steve toward the driver's side of his car. "Okay, we gotta go. So many chores, so little time," he says, his voice back to that normal speed and enunciation.

Steve frowns slightly, looking down at Dustin and tilting his head just slightly. "What?" he asks. Instead of actually answering, Dustin just makes some vague gesture with his hand and looks at the car. "Oh, right. Go ahead and get in the car. And, uh, see you later, Munson."

"Is that a promise?" Eddie asks before he can think better of it.

Steve pauses, looking at Eddie's mouth with a slight scrunch to his nose. He seems to be considering something as Dustin scrambles into the passenger seat, watching them with narrowed eyes. Honestly, Eddie is surprised he's not blasting the horn to hurry Steve up. Finally, Steve comes to a decision and meets Eddie's eyes again. "Your band has a show tonight, right? At the Hideout? I was planning to go. So, yeah, I'll see you then, I guess."

And with that, like he hasn't just fucking rocked Eddie's world, Steve Harrington gets into his car. He makes sure Dustin is buckled before waving at Eddie and pulling out of the parking spot.

Eddie finds himself waving back, staring dumbly at the car as it pulls onto the street. It only hits him a few seconds later that Steve Harrington is coming to his show. At the Hideout. His metal show. A Corroded Coffin gig at the Hideout.

Holy. Shit.

[stevesbipanic]

Eddie sometimes went quiet.

Wayne noticed it after Eddie moved in. He didn't do it as much when he was little and Mary would bring him round, but here he was at ten years old completely silent. When Eddie was little Wayne assumed the boy was just shy, but now that he lived with Eddie he knew that sometimes a whole week would pass with not a peep from the young boy. M

The doctor said it might be a trauma response, might just be something he would do from time to time, either way, Eddie Munson, one of the loudest and dramatic kids Wayne had ever met would still be him, just nonverbal. They worked with a notebook but sometimes Eddie would get frustrated he wasn't being answered fast enough and they were running out of paper.

It was Wayne's buddy from work that presented a solution. "Have you tried sign language? My son was born deaf and Susan and I went to night classes so we could talk to the kid." So that's exactly what Wayne did, he moved his shifts to the day and spent his nights at the school learning to talk to his boy. On his days off he'd show Eddie what he'd learnt and slowly they were able to bridge the gap that the silence presented.

The silent days didn't stop as he grew older, his teachers didn't really understand and sometimes he'd end up in detention with a note saying he was being disrespectful. His friends understood though and enthusiastically asked Eddie to teach them sign language, they'd use it even when Eddie was happily chatting with them, they liked that they shared a 'secret' language from the bullies.

He hadn't had any silent days since Vecna, which Eddie thought was a miracle in itself given the circumstances. However, he woke up a couple months after spring break knowing what kind of day it was going to be. He felt frustrated with himself, he was supposed to be hanging out with Steve and Robin today and was worried with how they'd take it, especially Steve. They'd been dancing around each other's feelings lately and he didn't want to ruin everything before it even started. Resigned he grabbed a notebook and pen and headed to Family Video.

He'd spent ten minutes psyching himself up in the parking lot before heading inside, note written and ready explaining that no it wasn't anything Upside Down related, he just wouldn't be speaking today. The door's bell rings in his ear as he stops suddenly staring at the scene before him. Steve and Robin were, quite rapidly, signing at each other. Steve turns at the bell, smiling at Eddie.

"Eddie!"

Still in a bit of shock, Eddie signs on instinct, "You know sign?"

Steve has the same look of shock now, before his face breaks into an even bigger smile and signs back, "You know sign! You know sign, how, why?"

His hands are faster than his brain as he explains how he goes quiet sometimes, and Wayne and night classes and Hellfire before asking Steve how he and Robin know sign.

Steve looks bashful as he signs back, "Um, after Starcourt my hearing started to go, so Robin, ever the linguist, insisted we learn, which was actually very smart of her. I can still kinda hear but I get by mainly on lip reading."

Things started to make sense now to Eddie, how sometimes Steve seemed to just nod and smile at whatever the kids were saying, or would need things repeated to him. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Why didn't you tell me about going nonverbal? Robbie has days like that too."

"Didn't want you to think I was weird."

"I like that you're weird, I like you, Eds."

Eddie blushes at what he interprets is his sign name from Steve, the letter E and the sign for love combined.

"I like you too, Stevie." Eddie signs, the letter S mixed with the sign for heart.

Eddie may still have his silent days, but now he shares them with Steve, and they can sign the things he's not allowed to say out loud, making sure they both know they're loved.

[steveshairychest]

Steve volunteers at his local library a few days a week because he likes the lack of people and the comfort of being surrounded by so many stories he can escape into. Tuesdays are his favourite to work because of one particular reason, or well, person.

Every Tuesday, that reason bounces into the library, guitar in hand and a smile on his face that's so bright it lights up the dim library. Steve watches him subtly through the gaps in between books on the shelf he is organising. He's not been brave enough to approach the boisterous soul that sings and reads stories to the children. Steve's never heard his voice, but from the way the children smile and jump up from their seats, he'd say the guy isn't that bad.

Steve usually finishes his shift just before the bright-eyed man is due to leave. Normally, he'd grab his things and hurry off as quickly as he can to avoid the man that always seems so eager to talk to him. It's not that Steve doesn't like him, he actually likes him a lot, he's just still learning to read lips and even from a distance, he can tell that the musician speaks really fast.

He's just about to walk through the front doors when he feels a light tap on his shoulder. It's the musician. He's got his guitar slung over his back and a small smile pulling at his lips. "Trying to escape me again?" He signs perfectly.

Steve is so stunned he forgets to reply.

[hexiewrites]

I’ve been thinking a lot about late-deafened Steve, and what that actually would have looked like. Because the thing is: I love this head cannon. Boy got bashed around so much, ESPECIALLY on his left side, theres no way he didn’t come out of that with some long term damage. And I’ve been thinking about what that means for him, when his hearing starts to go, and how isolating that would be.

Except. Then I keep thinking about Robin.

Give me child-of-Deaf-adults Robin. Robin whose parents met at Gallaudet. Who were confused and upset when the doctor said, relief clear on his face, oh thank god, how lucky, your baby is normal, she can HEAR. Robin who grows up a in a Deaf home with a Deaf family. Who learns ASL before she learns English. Who never learns to be quiet because at home it doesn’t matter, so she can blast trumpet all day long to no complaints, and forever feels uncomfortable in places where she has to try to keep it down. Robin who grows up learning ASL and English and thrives, loves the way her brain works when it’s parsing languages, and starts teaching herself French and Spanish too, blasting day time Spanish soap operas constantly whenever she’s at home, shouting along with the screen. Robin who interprets for her parents, taking on burdens no seven year old should when she’s the one who has to tell her mom the cancers back. Robin who, four years later, gets to tell her dad that the surgery worked. The cancers gone. Moms gonna be ok. Robin who, at eleven, doesn’t know the sign for remission but she signs CANCER-one hand eating at the other like the disease that almost took her Mom-and signs FINISH, signs NONE, signs MOM-OKAY, MOM-SAFE, and is glad her dad can’t hear how loud her sobs are because even she’s embarrassed at the noises she’s making. 

Robin who doesn’t quite fit at home, the loud little girl in the odd quiet house (not that her house is ever quiet: if you dont realize you’re making noise you don’t do anything to tamper it), and who doesn’t quite fit at school, when she shows up in kindergarten signing instead of speaking and all the other kids make fun of her for years, call her spazzy Buckley and imitate the signs, crude and heartbreaking and she can’t even cry here because everyone can hear her. Robin who teaches herself to speak without signing, sits on her hands and tries not to internalize the hatred, but her fingers still twitch constantly along with the words. Robin who thinks she’s never going to fit in, and tries to separate out the two different parts of herself because it’s easier, most days, to pretend to be “normal” even though that feels wrong too.

Give me Robin, who knows Steve inside out and who knows what it looks like when someone can’t hear you but pretends they can. Robin who clocks Steve immediately, even though he tries to brush her off like he’s been doing to everyone. Robin who finally takes him home to meet her parents, explaining it all in the car (into his right ear, which is better than the left though still starting to fade). Robin who gives Steve the gift of understanding and hope for the future. Who holes up with him and teaches him sign, slow at first (because Steve has never been good at grammar, and he constantly furrows his eyebrows despite her pleas that eyebrows are important in ASL and he needs to use his face more or he’s going to confuse everyone, it’s the visual equivalent of lilting your voice up like every sentence is a question and it’s weird, Steve!) and then faster as he starts to realize how useful it is, starts to bring her lists full of signs to learn, starts to lean on and cherish the experience of this new way to communicate. Robin, who helps him practice lipreading even though she’s terrible at it. Robin, who finally convinces him to get a hearing aid and lets him sob into her shoulder when the doctor says it’ll help for a few years, but long term there’s probably nothing they can do, and then tells him to buck it up because there are way worse things than being a little deaf and besides, now the Buckleys will just have to adopt him for real because they did always talk about adopting a deaf child or two, if there was ever one in need.

Give me CODA Robin, whose never felt like she belonged until she nearly gets murdered by Russians with her best friend. Who brings Steve into her life, shows him Deaf culture, gives him a place where he fits. Robin who finally realizes that this is her place too, and it’s so much sweeter for getting to share it with the people she loves.

And then, after, give me Eddie knocking on the Buckley door and begging to learn ASL too. Give me Robin’s mom, somehow roped in to teaching him and the party, as they try to learn in secret to make Steve’s life easier (and their own, because ASL is god tier for pulling pranks from opposite sides of a high school cafeteria). Give me Dustin, excitedly telling Miranda Buckley to FUCK-OFF every week for months because he thinks he’s saying THANK-YOU and she finds it too funny to correct him. Give me Eddie trying to surprise Steve and ask him out on a date, but instead of signing HUNGRY, WANT YOU&ME GO AFTER WORK? he signs HORNY, WANT YOU&ME GO FUCK?

And give me Steve, who thinks about it for a long minute (partially because Eddie totally botches the grammar, but partially because he looks so hot, standing there nervous and trying to communicate with Steve in a way that will make him the most comfortable) before he smirks and signs back YEAH, and takes Eddie on the best goddamn first date of his life. 

[bludhavensbirdboy]

Ok but like hear me out.

Steve Harrington being deaf due to the amount of head trauma he has suffered over the years meaning now he has to navigate a world he once knew fully in silence and he never brought it up until it was too late cause he didn’t want to burden everyone in the group with how he can’t really hear that well and it’s getting progressively worse. But here he is now fully deaf and trying his hardest to live a normal life and yes he is finally doing it getting better at reading lips, he becomes fluent in ASL even though no one else in the group is. And then Eddie Munson comes along all loud gestures and enthusiasm and that’s what attracts Steve to him at first because when Eddie is near, talking in the group he never feels like he’s missing out on things due to his lack of hearing because eddies gestures and bravado basically make up for his lack of hearing and it feels amazing for Steve to feel that included in a group conversation and then he finds out Eddie is fluent in ASL cause of course if anyone in Hawkins would be fluent in ASL it’s Eddie Munson the man that surprises basically everyone he meets and Steve just fucking falls in love straight aways when the first one on one conversation Eddie and Steve have is fully in ASL. idk dude this is half baked 4am thought but it’s a thought no less However steddie thoughts aside a deaf Steve Harrington can be something so personal

[hairstevington]

Daily Drabble, 10/5/23

Prompt: “Quiet”

(Deaf!Steve Harrington x Eddie Munson)

A/N: Hello all! For those who don’t know, I went to a Deaf school and am fluent in ASL. When writing ASL in written English, you use all capitals. I hope you enjoy!!

The first few times Steve got beat up, he was left with a ringing in his ears for a while. Then, the ringing became constant. Then, the Russians happened.

The ringing stopped. It was quiet.

He didn’t want to tell anyone, and he wasn’t sure why. At first he just acted like everything was fine. He tried to read lips and nodded when people told him things. Whenever he misunderstood something, his friends chalked it up to him being an idiot as always.

Robin and Steve worked together, so it was basically impossible to hide it from her. It became their secret. She helped him at Family Video with customers, covered for him, made sure he always got to do the tasks that didn’t require hearing or listening to other people.

Dustin noticed next, and he convinced Steve to let the others know. They communicated through writing a lot, until the party decided they could all learn sign language together. Like a code, they told Steve. Max and El were excited at the prospect of writing letters, too.

Thank God Steve was out of school, so he didn’t have to worry about accommodations.

One night, Steve went to pick Dustin, Mike, and Lucas from Hellfire, and that’s when he ran into Eddie.

Steve knew he was saying something snarky, but he couldn’t tell what since it was so dark.

DEAF, Steve signed. He pointed at his ear to clarify. Eddie raised his eyebrows.

THAT HAPPEN WHEN? Eddie signed back. Steve stumbled backwards.

YOU SIGN?! Eddie nodded.

MOM DEAF TOO, he explained. He shrugged. DEAD NOW. Steve awkwardly stifled a laugh at how blunt Eddie had delivered the news. Thankfully he didn’t seem offended.

HAPPEN LAST-YEAR, Steve explained. NICE MEET YOU.

Eddie smiled. NICE MEET YOU TOO.

_____________

Check out my Masterlist for other works!! ❤️🤟

[thebridgetonarnia]

I wanna talk about Hard of Hearing Steve Harrington! I posted a version of this on twitter but wanted to edit and expand it slightly here. so please enjoy some HoH!Steve finding community through his and Eddie's deaf daughter.

Steve and Eddie weirdly have Richard Harrington to thank for their daughter. One of his mistress's had a child who was born deaf.

Richard wanted nothing to do with this child, or the girl's mother. He scoffed at the woman who just wanted some help, and told her "It looks like all his children are broken, and Harrington's demand perfection."

So this young woman - younger than Steve is at the time - who is alone in the world puts the child up for adoption, and as next of kin, Steve gets a call, asking about a child.

He and Eddie immediately say yes, of course they'll take the child. They'd been thinking about children for a long time, but they hadn't been so lucky in that department. Steve's half sister, as it happens, needs a home, because their good for nothing sperm donor of a father abandoned them both. So they will raise her, as their own, and she will never be made to feel othered, or lesser than. They name her Hope.

Steve has been wearing hearing aides for years now, he and Eddie had thought idly about learning sign language over the years, but they've never been able to commit. It always gets pushed to the side for other things, and Steve hears well enough anyway with his aides.

But with Hope? They buy all the books, and take lessons with Robin at the community college, because she's going to need it to communicate with the world.

Steve picks it up quickly, and he and Eddie watch as their infant toddler picks up language and can communicate with them. It's really a sight to see.

The guy who teaches the class is a CODA, child of deaf adults, and he puts them on to the Deaf community in the city, urges them to make sure their kid grows up with people like her.

So once again, they dive head first into the community, because Steve and Eddie would rather die than make Hope feel isolated. They take Hope to kid friendly Deaf events, they meet Deaf adults, and slowly as Steve talks to other Deaf people, he realizes that something just clicks for him.

Something had slotted out of place inside of him the second his hearing started to go, when he started to feel like he wasn't built for the world around him anymore, and people started to treat him differently for wearing hearing aides so young.

Eddie and the Party have always made him feel comfortable, they always make sure they look at him when they speak to him, never tell him never mind, or I'll tell you late when he misses anything. But even with all that support, he sometimes still feels like an outsider. But that off-balanced thing slides right back into place when he's at Deaf events with Hope because these people understand him so fundamentally.

Steve makes friends - outside of their little found family - actual friends who see him for who he is, not for what he lacks.

He wears his hearing aides less and less, and sign gets used in their home more and more, even when Hope isn't around. He starts to identify as Deaf. It feels like when he started dating Eddie, like the world opened up to him.

He's so so grateful to his father for the first time in his life because his affair brought Hope into their lives, and she is the best thing that ever happened to him and Eddie, and she gave Steve a community of people that made him feel comfortable in the world again.

And when Steve finds the Deaf Queer community? Well that just feels like coming home.

[wheatnoodle]

eddie keeps inviting steve to his shows with his band and steve keeps declining every single one even though everyone else he knows and loves is going.

don’t get him wrong, steve would love nothing more than to show his support to his friend by going to his concerts and dancing along to the music. but that’s the problem.

he can’t dance to the music.

because he can’t even hear it.

after the mass amount of head trauma he’s suffered in recent years, steve’s already not so perfect hearing just got worse. first his left ear was ringing, just a pitched whistle in the back of his head. then it got louder. kept getting louder until all he heard from his left ear was this stupid. fucking. whistle. steve could no longer hear someone speaking to him if he wasn’t directly facing them, preferably angled a little bit to the right.

and of course, because he has just the best luck in the world, it’s around this time that his right ear started quietly whistling in the background. it too got so loud until another solid knock in the head, in just the right spot, left everything muffled. no more ringing at least, but now it just sounds like he’s underwater with ear plugs at all times. did he ever take it to a doctor? of course not, doctors have needles and needles give you drugs and drugs make you pass out and passing out lets guards drag you down a hallway and-

and of course he didn’t mention it to the party. except robin, who is an extension of steve himself. they have enough going on and quite frankly, he doesn’t want them to look at him like that. like they pity him. like he’s different now. or worse, like he’s lying. because king steve the hair harrington? deaf? as if. it even sounded ridiculous to himself.

so he keeps picking up late shifts at family video every tuesday, friday, and saturday night. a ready excuse why he can’t go. something he can prove. an alibi. and eddie keeps asking him. keeps looking at him with these big, hopeful eyes and this stupid smile, and steve keeps saying no. eddie’s shoulders will sag and he’ll deflate, pouting and whining out a “you said that last time”. and steve will fluster and look down at whatever his hands decided to keep busy with, seem like he didn’t have the time for the conversation.

“i have to work, eddie. you know that.” he feels a puff of air on his face and looks up.

“-but i guess it’s whatever, yeah?” eddie was talking to him. he’s got his hands stuffed in the pockets of his leather jacket, leaning back on foot and looking at steve like he’s bored, like steve is hurting him and he keeps hurting him and he’s tired of it. and steve realizes it’s not just the look, he is hurting eddie. and eddie is tired of it.

steve has no clue what eddie was saying. he’s standing there with wide eyes, his mouth opening and closing like a fish. he’s panicked, he’s lost. it must show on his face. eddie huffs out a breath and shakes his head, the leather on the bottom of his combat boots squeaking as he spins on the floor. he walks out the door, throwing up a peace sign without looking back. and then he’s off.

robin is next to him in an instant, knocking over the tapes on the “Employee Recommendations” table. she’s leaning in front of him, staring at him like he’s insane.

“what the hell was that?!”

“i don’t- i don’t know.” steve’s hands are shaking. Robin takes a hold of them, squeezing them tightly in her own to provide some grounding pressure.

“okay, okay. just…just breathe. just give him some time to cool off. i’ll talk to eddie at the show. just breathe, babe. it’s gonna be okay.”

[ghosttotheparty]

with your fingers to my throat/id let you take it all

Eddie’s noticed things about Steve, and the way the others interact with him.

When everyone is talking in a group, their voices overlapping and raising in volume until Eddie is wincing and barely able to follow along, Steve doesn’t ever seem to pay attention. Sometimes he looks back and forth between them, his expression blank and often confused, his pretty eyes shining.

And then afterwards Robin or Nancy or Dustin talks to him privately, and Eddie wonders. He watches while they talk, while Steve nods and responds, his brows furrowed in focus, his eyes trained on their mouths.

And Eddie wonders.

“Hey, Buckley,” he says, dropping onto the sofa next to her. They’re in the Wheeler’s basement, and he watches Steve talking to Nancy in the corner. She shows him something, falling quiet as he looks at it intently, and then he looks back at her again before she continues to speak.

“Munson,” Robin greets dryly, flipping through a magazine, both of her legs pulled up on the sofa in front of her.

“I got a question, about— about Harrington.”

“I don’t know what he uses for his hair,” she says, flipping a page. “You have to ask him. I think Dustin might know but I’m pretty sure he took a blood pact to not tell anyone.”

“That’s…” Eddie blinks at her. “That’s not my question. I am curious now, though.”

“What’s the question?” she asks, lowering the magazine and looking at him. Her bangs are overgrown, falling in her sparkly eyes, but she doesn’t seem to care. “What can I do you for?”

“I…” He hesitates, glancing back at Steve and Nancy. They’re both laughing, Nancy gesturing with her hands while she talks. “This is, maybe, a… Weird question, but.”

“Ask.”

“Is Harrington, like… deaf?”

She blinks blankly at him, her eyelashes fluttering. She’s awfully pretty. (Not that Eddie’s told her.)

“Did you not know?”

“No?” She snorts at his reaction, his expression. “What the fuck?”

She laughs, shrugging.

“I thought you knew,” she says. “Everyone knows.”

“I didn’t!” he exclaims angrily, keeping his voice low. “How the fuck didn’t I know? Was he— Was he deaf in school?”

“No.” She shakes her head, looking back at the magazine. “It’s a recent development. Head trauma, y’know.”

“Jesus.” He looks back at Steve. His eyes are trained on Nancy’s mouth, a smile teasing his lips as she speaks. “Is he like… completely deaf? Or…”

“Kind of?” Robin says, flipping a page. “His left ear is completely deaf, I think. And the he, like, can only hear some things with his right ear. Really loud noises, and some, like, specific things. But he says voices are really hard to hear.”

“So he reads lips?”

“Yeah.”

“Would… Can he go see a doctor?” he asks. She sighs. “Like to get a hearing aid or something? I don’t really know how any of it works.”

“I don’t know,” she says, following his gaze to watch Steve. “He refuses to go to the doctor.” She hesitates for a second, twisting her mouth. “Neither of us really like the idea of going after the whole Russian-doctor-bone-saw thing.“

He looks at her. He still doesn’t really know what all happened with the Russian-doctor-bone-saw thing, but he never wants to ask. Not when Robin’s eyes dim slightly every time it comes up, and not when he knows it stops both of them from seeking medical attention. And not when he knows it must have something to do with Steve’s hearing loss.

“Nancy and I are trying to talk him into seeing an eye doctor, though,” she adds, looking back down at the magazine.

“Is his vision bad?” Eddie asks, his eyes still watching Steve. He’s not really observing anymore, at least not intentionally. But his eyes catch on the angle of his jaw, and the way he rubs at the scar around his neck absentmindedly. It isn’t as noticeably as Steve probably thinks it is.

“‘S not great,” she says lightly. “And when he gets headaches he sees, like spots. He doesn’t talk about it a lot, but I think that’s just because he doesn’t like people worrying about him.”

Eddie hums softly. He doesn’t notice Robin look over at him, seeing the way his eyes follow Steve’s every move, or the way his gaze has softened.

“Maybe you can talk him into going,” Robin says lightly. Eddie scoffs, finally looking away. He catches her eye before she looks back at the magazine and his cheeks flush.

“I have a feeling he won’t wanna listen to me.”

“I have a feeling he would,” she says, but before he can ask what the hell she means by that, the door to the basement opens and Mrs Wheeler’s voice calls Nancy’s name. Eddie scrambles, falling off the sofa and hiding out of sight even though she isn’t coming down the stairs.

Nancy has to leave to get Mike from Dustin’s house, even though she complains about it. (Mike said he could bike home. Nancy is not happy. It’s going to be a very uncomfortable car ride home.) Eddie sneaks out the back while Robin and Steve say goodbye to the Wheelers, hiding in the backseat of Steve’s car. When Robin slides into the passenger seat, she reaches back and smacks the top of his head. He reaches around the seat and smacks her back, swatting at her face, and Steve snorts, shaking his head at them.

Robin smacks at Eddie before she gets out of the car when they drop her off, and Eddie watches Steve walk her to the door and kiss her forehead before he comes back. He stops as he’s headed back to the car, tilting his head as Eddie struggling to climb into the passenger seat.

“You’re in charge of music,” Steve says as he’s buckling himself in, looking at Eddie.

Eddie flicks through the radio stations until he finds his favourite; the music is loud and heavy and intense, rough guitar riffs and drum beats so strong Eddie can feel them in his bones. When he looks over at Steve, Steve is smiling absently, the streetlights and stoplights shining on his face.

Their nighttime routine is a comfort to Eddie. It’s quiet, even with the remnants of his heavy music echoing in his head like it’s empty. They both shower when they get home. Steve takes longer showers than Eddie, and Eddie listens to the fall of the water as he heads to the living room. He flicks the lamps around the room on so it’s not too dark, all the curtains drawn. (The curtains are almost always drawn. Steve’s neighbors live far enough away that he doesn’t particularly worry about them seeing him through the windows, and it’s not like they even come by just to chat with Steve, but Steve doesn’t want to risk anything.)

Steve comes into the living room as Eddie is grinding the weed in his lap, and he leans over the back of the sofa, gently using his own towel to dry the dripping ends of Eddie’s hair. Eddie doesn’t move, but he laughs lightly, remembering every Thanks, sweetheart he’s said sarcastically that Steve never responded to.

“What are you laughing at?” Steve asks when he finishes drying his hair, collapsing onto the sofa next to him and looking at him with his shining eyes. It’s dim enough in the living room that his eyes look almost black, shiny and wide like some curious puppy. Eddie looks away, running his tongue along the edge of the rolling paper. “What’s funny?”

Eddie sticks the joint between his lips, suppressing a smile and feeling around his leg for the lighter. Steve watches him.

He lights the joint, the flame lighting up his face for a moment, and then he takes a long, slow drag, turning to face Steve by leaning his back against the armrest of the sofa and pulling his legs up between them.

“You know I didn’t know you’re deaf until today?”

Steve blinks blankly at him before—

“You didn’t know?”

A laugh bursts out of Eddie, and he shakes his head, watching as Steve grins and laughs in disbelief.

“No idea,” Eddie says, holding the joint out for Steve, who takes it, his fingers brushing Eddie’s lightly. “I had… an inkling today and asked Buckley.”

Steve laughs lightly, shaking his head as he takes a drag from the joint.

“How have you never noticed?” he asks, smoke drifting around his face. “There’s never been, like…” He shrugs, taking another short drag. “Any kind of misunderstanding, or…”

Eddie thinks for a second, sighing, leaning against the back of the sofa. He shrugs after a moment.

“Not really?” he says. Steve’s eyes are trained on his mouth. “I’ve said some things and you didn’t respond, but I never really worried about it.” Steve raised his eyebrows, smiling amusedly as he smokes. “But never anything that really needed a response, so…”

Steve laughs again. His eyes squeeze shut when he does. He’s going to have wrinkles around his eyes when he’s older, crow’s feet and laugh lines. Eddie can’t wait to see the remains and effects of joy and laughter and smiles alongside his scars.

“I think…” he starts, but he trails off. Steve holds the joint back out to him, and he takes it hesitantly, thinking. Steve waits patiently. “I think the reason there’s never been a problem is because I…”

“You what?“ Steve asks. His voice is soft. He mirror Eddie, leaning against the back of the sofa, setting his arm over it and letting his face rest on it.

“I think I just, like… instinctively face you when I’m talking with you. I like looking at you.”

Steve blinks, looking into Eddie’s eyes for a moment.

And then he’s smiling softly.

Eddie looks away, his cheeks flushing as he takes a long drag from the joint, letting the smoke fill his lungs and cloud his brain.

“Is it hard?” he asks Steve after a short while as he’s passing it back over to him. “Reading lips?”

Steve shrugs, blowing smoke into the air between them.

“Sometimes,” he says softly. “It was at first, when my hearing started going, but Robin helped a lot.” He looks at him with a sharp little smile. “Once I figured out how to read her lips I was pretty much good to go.”

Eddie laughs.

“Sometimes Robin and Dustin complain that I talk too quietly,” Steve adds, and then he takes another drag, holding it as he holds the joint out to Eddie and exhaling as Eddie inhales. “I just don’t wanna be yelling all the time, I can’t— I can’t hear myself talk,” he explains, gesturing to his ear with a lazy point. “But I’ve gotten better at speaking at a normal volume.”

“You’re good,” Eddie reassures him. “I like your voice.”

It’s not just the weed getting rid of his filter. He knows it’s not. There’s a lot he wants to say to Steve that he’s been holding back, including that. His voice really is nice. Soft and smooth and low, sometimes breathy in almost-whispers that make shivers run down Eddie’s spine.

“Yeah?” Steve breathes. (There it is.)

“Yeah.” He hesitates, his eyes skimming down to rest at Steve’s lips. “Pretty.”

Steve looks away, unsuccessfully suppressing a smile. Even in the dimness of the room Eddie sees his cheeks flush pink.

Eddie smokes slowly, gazing at Steve, watching as his smile softens and then falls as he looks back up at Eddie. Their eyes meet and Steve looks away, picking at his sweatpants and twisting his mouth like he’s thinking too hard. Eddie nudges his leg with his foot, prompting him to look back up at him.

“What’s wrong?” Eddie asks. His voice is soft.

Steve shrugs lightly, pausing. He lays against the back of the sofa, curling in on himself. He looks so small, his hair starting to dry, curling slighting and frizzing in a way King Steve would never have let happen. Eddie wants to run his hands through it. He wants to take Steve into his arms and hold him until he falls asleep.

“I don’t really mind it,” Steve says after a moment. “It was hard to get used to at first, and it kinda freaked me out because I— I couldn’t hear if anything was happening behind me or when I going to sleep, but now I…” He shrugs, still avoiding Eddie’s eyes. “I don’t mind it,” he says again.

Eddie waits as Steve takes a deep breath, leaning over to the coffee table to drop the joint in the ashtray. He moves back to mirror Steve, curling an arm under his head against the sofa.

“I used to get really overwhelmed by noise,” Steve continues. “In the cafeteria, or in the gym, and my…” He takes a shuddering breath. “My dad used to yell a lot. I hated that.“

Steve’s parents left after the “earthquakes.” They barely even said goodbye. Steve never really talked about it, never seemed to be sad about it, but sometimes Eddie sees his face when he thinks no one’s looking. One night he heard him crying. Eddie doesn’t think he’s sad about them leaving, per se, but rather that they didn’t care enough to tell him they loved him. That they’d miss him. They left him a house, but not a phone number he could contact them at.

“The quiet is nice,” Steve says softly. “But sometimes I…” He hesitates, glancing at Eddie, who nudges him again with an eyebrow raise.

“Sometimes I wish I could hear you,” Steve says breathily, rushed and quiet and shy, his eyes avoiding Eddie’s. “I don’t really remember what you sound like from school, but I— I bet your voice is nice.”

Eddie’s face flushes with heat.

Some time passes. Steve doesn’t look at Eddie, so Eddie doesn’t say thing. But he looks at Steve, at the way he gazes blankly as his own lap, at the worn fabric of the sofa between them, a soft of sad acceptance in the golden reflecting shining in his eyes.

Eddie takes a breath, sitting up and moving closer. Steve looks at him.

“Wanna try something,” Eddie whispers. Steve blinks at him. Nods. Eddie holds his hand out.

Steve carefully slides his hand into Eddie’s, and Eddie’s brain stops working for a moment, overwhelmed by the warmth of Steve’s skin against his. He runs his thumb over Steve’s knuckles, taking a deep breath, preparing himself for whatever the hell happens.

Slowly, he raises Steve’s hand to his own neck, using both hands to press Steve’s fingers to his throat. Steve’s eyes meet his. His brows are furrowed in confusion, but he doesn’t pull his hand away.

Eddie swallows anxiously, letting go of Steve’s hand and opening his mouth, stammering before he says, “Can you feel it?”

Steve blinks, slowly sitting up and looking down at his fingers against Eddie’s throat. His eyes widen and flick up to Eddie’s then down to his mouth.

“Say something.”

Eddie’s lips twitch into a smile, and he shifts closer. Steve’s fingers press harder. Eddie hopes he can’t feel his heartbeat.

“I— I don’t know what to say.”

“Anything,” Steve says breathlessly. “Say anything.”

“You’re fucking beautiful,” Eddie says. He lets himself just talk, a weight being lifted off his shoulders with every word. “I’ve— I’ve always thought so, Steve, you’re gorgeous.“

Steve’s face softens, his cheeks flushing pink. He shifts closer until they’re sitting cross-legged in front of each other, their knees pressing together, Steve’s hand pressing to Eddie’s throat.

Steve prompts him with a little jerk of his chin. Eddie smiles.

He sings You are my sunshine. Steve starts to smile when he recognizes the words, watching Eddie’s lips raptly, his other hand moving to rest on Eddie’s leg.

“Alright?” Eddie asks when the song is done. Steve nods. His eyes are glistening, shining like he might cry. “What are you thinking?”

“I like it,” he says, choking on his words. Eddie sets a hand over the one that Steve has on his leg. “The way your voice feels. And your… your heartbeat.“

“Oh, you can feel that too?” Eddie asks quietly. Steve nods, snickering softly. “So you know I’m freaking out right now?”

“You don’t need to freak out,” Steve whispers, his fingers shifting on his neck, shaking his head. “It’s okay.”

“Okay.”

Steve hesitates, biting his lip, his eyes trained on his hand on Eddie’s neck.

“I like…” He looks at Eddie’s eyes. “I like knowing you’re alive.”

Eddie blinks.

“Like—“ Steve stammers, his mouth moving silently, and Eddie squeezes his hand, rubbing his knuckles soothingly. “Your heartbeat. I can feel that you’re alive. It’s the same reason I like your scars.”

Eddie can’t fight the little smile that crawls across his face. He reaches up and traces the scar around Steve’s neck, watching Steve’s eyes flutter shut. When he looks back at Eddie, Eddie says, “I like your scars too.”

Steve kisses him.

His hand tightens on Eddie’s throat, pulling him in, and Eddie’s eyes widen before they squeeze shut and his hands fly to hold Steve’s face between them. Steve’s cheeks squish under his palms, and Steve’s other hand squeezes Eddie’s thigh tightly.

Steve pulls away after a moment with a sharp gasp, his eyes wide, and as his eyes flick back and forth between Eddie’s, Eddie starts to smile.

“Sorry,” Steve says breathlessly, and Eddie shakes his head.

“Don’t apologise,” Eddie tells him. Steve’s eyes flick to his throat. “I want you to, it’s okay.”

Steve exhales, still looking at him frantically, and Eddie holds his face as gently as he can, nodding and smiling and breathing heavily despite the kiss being brief.

“It’s okay,” he says again. Steve’s fingers press into his neck, and then he seems to melt, falling forward until his forehead rests on Eddie’s cheek, his shoulders slumping. Eddie closes his eyes, pushing his hands into Steve’s hair gently. It’s tangled and still a little damp, but Steve hums softly, and Eddie combs through it.

Steve sighs heavily, his other hand sliding up to hold Eddie’s hip, slipping over the creases of his sweatpants.

He finally lifts his head after a while, looking at Eddie almost sleepily, releasing his leg and reaching up to hold his cheek, and then he’s kissing him again.

His lips are soft against Eddie’s, and he tastes like weed and the sweet strawberries Mrs Wheeler brought down as Eddie hid behind the stairs, and Eddie sighs, combing through his hair again and scratching at his scalp and smiling against his lips when Steve hums softly.

Steve pulls away, sliding his tongue over his lips, tilting his head before he leans back in, kissing him like he doesn’t want to breathe. Eddie’s fingers tighten in his hair, and Steve’s tighten on his neck, and then Steve’s lips are parting and his tongue is slipping across Eddie’s lip, and Eddie is combusting. His jaw drops so Steve can press his tongue into his mouth, and a strangled groan escapes him.

Steve whimpers and presses his hand harder against his throat, his other hand holding his face. His thumb brushes over the mangled and scarred skin of Eddie’s cheek lightly.

When Eddie pulls away, Steve’s lips are kissed red, and Eddie ignores the flutter of pride in his stomach.

“Lay back,” Eddie says when Steve looks at him blearily, and Steve wordlessly shifts, pushing his hands into Eddie’s hair and pulling him down on top of him as he falls onto his back. Eddie catches himself with a hand to the sofa, laughing lightly, grinning at the way Steve blinks up at him, the way his hair fans out underneath him.

“God, you’re gorgeous.”

Steve tugs at his curls.

“Kiss me,” he says softly, lifting his chin. “Please, come— come here.”

Eddie lowers himself on top of him, and Steve is already opening his mouth desperately, closing his eyes. Eddie wishes he had a photographic memory. Or a camera.

He leans down and kisses him, carefully, tenderly pulling Steve’s lip between his own, listening to Steve’s breath hitch, feeling his hands run over the back of his neck under his hair. Steve falls lax, melting into the sofa as Eddie sucks on his lip, as Eddie leans over onto one arm and runs his other hand through his hair, pets his cheek, traces lines over his neck.

Steve lets him do what he wants, sighing and shifting closer until he slides a hand to Eddie’ neck again, pressing over his throat and moving his legs so one slips between Eddie’s. And he presses up.

A moan escapes Eddie, and Steve grins.

Eddie pulls away, groaning.

“You fucker.”

Steve giggles. Eddie shakes his head fondly at him, and then he’s pressing onto Steve’s leg and leaning down to kiss him deeply, moaning softly as Steve pushes his knee up and flicks his tongue across his lips. Steve is breathing heavily, one hand to Eddie’s throat, the other reaching down to tug at his hips, pulling him against himself, and Eddie sighs, sucking at Steve’s lip, his tongue, biting and licking as Steve clutches at him.

When Eddie pulls away, Steve’s lips and chin are glistening, and his cheeks are flushed, and it takes a few moments for him to open his eyes. He takes a heavy breath before he speaks.

“Never been kissed like that before.”

“No?” Eddie says breathlessly, resisting the urge to close the distance between them again. Steve shakes his head. “Was it okay?”

Steve swears under his breath, closing his eyes for a moment.

“Yeah, Eddie,” he breathes. Eddie doesn’t know why, but just his name in Steve’s mouth makes him shiver. Everyone calls him Eddie. It’s not a pet name or a special nickname. But the way Steve makes it sound? Eddie wants to legally change his name to Eddie in Steve’s voice. “It was okay, it was more than okay.”

Eddie grins, brushing the side of his pretty face with his fingertips before he kisses him again, slower and more carefully, pushing his tongue to slide along Steve’s, and Steve lets his mouth hang open, humming softly, pulling at his hips again before his hand slowly slips under Eddie’s sweatshirt.

Eddie pulls away for a moment, tilting his head and leaning back in, licking across Steve’s smiling lips. Steve’s fingers are warm against the small of his back, dancing deftly over his spine under his sweatshirt, and Eddie thinks he might actually have died during the whole Vecna thing. He never thought he’d make it to heaven. But that’s the only rational explanation.

Because Steve Harrington is making out with him. Messily, and sloppily, the way Eddie likes it. (Steve seems to like it too, if Eddie were to judge based on the soft whimpers and gasps that escape him.) Wrapping his legs around his hips, holding his throat tightly and pressing just over Eddie’s ass like he’s too nervous to touch it. Sucking at his lips and tongue messily until spit is sliding between them. Humming and moaning as Eddie kisses across his cheeks (spreading said spit unintentionally, but neither of them really give a shit) and down his neck. Pushing a hand into Eddie’s hair and tugging as Eddie kisses the long scar across his neck.

Eddie sits up after a second, looking down at Steve and admiring him. He’s panting, flushed and squirming on the sofa, his lips bitten red and bruised. His chin and cheeks are shining with spit, and Eddie wants to lick it off, so he does.

Steve giggles as Eddie drags his tongue over his cheek, one of his hands burying itself in Eddie’s hair and tugging enough that he groans. Eddie licks across his face, even over his closed eye, and Steve is smiling softly, almost basking in Eddie’s affection.

Steve’s hand hesitates over the small of Eddie’s back as Eddie is dragging the tip of his tongue over the scar on his neck, lifting and hovering, and Eddie sighs. He settles on a spot on his neck, digging his teeth into his skin lightly and listening to Steve whine as Eddie reaches back, grabbing Steve’s hand with his own and pushing it to his ass. Steve’s fingers grab him immediately, and Eddie lets out a soft moan, releasing his hand and running his hand up Steve’s arm.

His sweater is soft, and his arm is soft, and his grip on Eddie is soft, even when he squeezes, and Eddie smiles as he sucks on his neck.

He pulls away after a while, soothing the blossoming bruise with a swipe of his tongue, and looks at Steve, who looks up at him blearily, whining under his breath.

“Can I take this off?” Eddie asks when Steve’s eyes land on him, tugging his shirt, and Steve nods, squeezing Eddie again before he shifts, sitting up. Eddie settles between his legs, carefully pulling Steve’s sweatshirt over his head, mussing his hair, and he tosses it away without looking to see where it lands.

He leans down, pressing desperate kisses across Steve’s and neck and collarbones, sliding his hands across his chest.

“Eddie—“ Steve gasps as Eddie thumbs over his nipples, and Eddie grins, pulling away to watch him throw his head back let out a strained exhale. “Shit.”

Eddie does it again, smiling lazily and tilting his head, watching Steve bite his lip, furrow his brows, breathe heavily, until Steve smacks his hands away like he doesn’t really want to.

“Off,” he says, reaching for the hem of Eddie’s t-shirt, and Eddie pulls away, hesitating for only a second before he pulls his shirt up over his head and tosses it away, shaking his hair out of his face.

Steve is staring at him, his eyes lidded and dark. They skim down his chest, lingering at his tattoo before they land on the scars that cover his sides. Eddie wants to cover them, to find his shirt and put it back on so Steve will stop staring.

Steve reaches out slowly, his fingertips dancing across the scarred skin. It tickles, the touch feather light and barely there, and Eddie closes his eyes. Steve traces every scar, trailing his fingertips over his sides and chest and upper arms, and then one of his hands pulls away.

There’s a moment before his palm presses to Eddie’s throat, and Eddie exhales as Steve falls against his shoulder, his forehead pressing into the side of Eddie’s neck. Eddie opens his eyes, glancing at him enough to wrap his arms around him, sliding his hands over his bare back and into his hair. He’s so warm. Eddie closes his eyes again.

“Say something for me,” Steve says softly. Eddie looks at him again. He isn’t looking.

“I love you,” he says, feeling Steve’s hand press harder against his throat, and he lets his head fall back, exhaling. His breath hitches in his throat. “I love you so much, Stevie, I love you.”

Steve whimpers as he speaks, his fingers tightening on the sides of Eddie’s neck, and Eddie feels almost lightheaded. He tugs Steve’s hair gently, speaking again, low and quiet but loud enough that Steve can feel it against his hand.

Steve is crying. Eddie can feel his tears on his own skin, can hear the way Steve’s breath catches in his throat and feel the way he’s shaking. Eddie plays with his hair gently, runs a hand over the back of his neck, and he talks.

It’s okay, baby, I’ve got you. I’m alright, I’m right here. You’ve got me, you can hold onto me. I’ll take care of you.

When Steve finally lifts his head, his lashes are soaked, his cheeks tearstained, and Eddie’s neck gets cold. He reaches to wipe his cheeks tenderly, nodding.

“What did you say?” Steve asks quietly. Eddie blinks, his cheeks flushing with heat.

“I said a lot,” he says. Steve smiles, tilting his head, wordlessly asking again. Eddie hesitates, his eyes flicking across Steve’s face. He looks exhausted, tear streaked and red cheeked, his eyes half closed, lips swollen from kisses, neck spotted with bites and bruises. He looks throughly fucked, content and relaxed despite his tears. Eddie brushes a hand over the side of his face.

“I love you,” he breathes.

Steve blinks, his eyes raising to meet Eddie’s. He looks back and forth between Eddie’s eyes, glances back at his lips, tightens his grip on his neck.

“Say it again,” he whispers.

“I love you.” Steve swallows, his eyebrows furrowing and his lip quivering, and he releases Eddie’s throat, which goes cold almost immediately as Steve lifts his hand and touches Eddie’s lips. “I love you,” Eddie says again softly.

Steve closes his eyes, and kisses him again a moment later. Eddie’s eyes fall shut, and he cradles the back of Steve’s head as Steve kisses him slowly, deeply.

“Really?” Steve asks desperately when he pulls away. He’s holding Eddie’s face between his hands. Eddie gazes at him, wondering when he last heard those words. He sighs softly, shifting, moving so he’s sitting up on one of Steve’s legs, his fingers running through Steve’s hair as Steve places his hands on his waist.

“I love you,” he says slowly when Steve is looking at his mouth again. “Really, seriously. Definitely. Completely.”

Steve stammers silently for a moment, his hands tightening.

“If— If you don’t kiss me right now, I think I’ll actually die.”

A laugh bursts out of Eddie, and he leans down, their mouths crashing together. His hair falls around their faces, hiding them like a curtain, and Steve holds his wrist, his head falling back.

“Jesus, Eddie,” Steve breathes when they part, panting, his eyes closed. “You’re so good at that.”

Eddie’s stomach flutters, and he giggles.

Steve opens his eyes.

“Surprised?” Eddie asks softly, still smiling. Steve doesn’t answer, tilting his head, sliding his hands to Eddie’s hips, and then he’s pulling, lifting his leg up against Eddie, a smile crawling across his face as Eddie exhales sharply and looking away, ever ounce of pride, of smugness, departing.

He takes a deep breath, consciously refraining from shifting his hips against Steve’s thigh. (Jesus, his thighs. Eddie wants to eat him.) But Steve pulls again, grinning at him.

“I love you too,” he says lightly, pulling at his hips until Eddie gives up, collapsing against him and groaning. “It’s okay, go ahead.”

Eddie slowly grinds against his leg, huffing, staring at him. Steve nods, smiling and smiling.

Eddie whines, squeezing his eyes shut, and he reaches down to grab one of Steve’s hands, pulling it away from where it’s gripping his sweatpants and lifting it to his throat. Steve grips him gently, grinning at him when Eddie moans quietly.

Eddie shifts, desperately moving so his knee presses to Steve, watching as Steve’s brows furrow and he bites his lip. His knee presses harder every time he shifts against Steve’s thigh, and Steve slides a hand to Eddie’s ass again, squeezing.

Steve is noisy. Eddie loves it.

He whines and whimpers and moans, his eyes closed, his head fallen back, murmuring things like yeah and please when Eddie starts licking him again (because he can’t help it). He gets louder as he gets closer, when Eddie reaches down and touches him over his sweatpants.

“I’m so loud, aren’t I?” Steve asks breathlessly, his cheeks flushed as Eddie squeezes him. Eddie laughs lightly, grinding against him, nodding.

“I like it,” he says, just as breathless.

“You like it?“

Eddie nods. He squeezes again, stroking and pulling, and Steve chokes out a whimper, but Eddie sets his other hand on his chin, lifting it up so their eyes meet, and Steve looks at his lips.

“Let it all out, sweetheart.”

Steve’s eyes fall shut. He melts against Eddie, who lets his other hand drift to Steve’s chest, sliding his fingertips over one of his nipples before he pinches, and Steve yelps, his hips bucking up into Eddie’s hand.

“Fuck, Eddie.” He grips Eddie’s throat, his other hand jumping to hold Eddie’s forearm tightly. “Fuck, fuck, fuckfuckfuckfuck—“

Eddie watches raptly, wide-eyed and mesmerised as Steve’s eyes squeeze shut and his fingers tighten on Eddie’s throat. Eddie presses down against Steve’s thigh, grunting and biting his lip as he comes.

“Eddie.”

Eddie opens his eyes and leans down, pressing sloppy kisses across Steve’s neck, licking over his skin that’s now salty with sweat, exhaling over his own spit and feeling Steve shiver against him.

“Eddie— Baby, please.”

Eddie’s eyes widen, his stomach fluttering.

“I got you,” he says, and Steve’s eyes open when he feels the words vibrate against his hand. “It’s okay, Stevie, I got you.”

“Jesus, fuck—“

When he comes, the noise he lets out is high-pitched, weak and strained and so vulnerable it makes Eddie ache. His eyes squeeze shut, and his hands tighten on Steve, and he tenses up until he’s frozen, and after a moment passes, he collapses.

He exhales hard, his hands releasing Eddie, and Eddie pulls his hand away, smoothing both of his hands Steve’s sides, over his scars and scattered moles. Steve opens his eyes after a moment, breathing heavily, and his eyes land on Eddie’s throat. He traces a line over it softly.

“Sorry.”

Eddie sighs.

“Don’t you dare apologise,” he says quietly. Steve rests his fingertips lightly over his throat. “That was the hardest I’ve come in ages.”

Steve smiles tiredly.

“Didn’t even touch you,” he mumbles.

“Next time.”

Steve’s smile grows and he nods. He falls forward, wrapping his arms around Eddie’s waist and pressing his face into his neck. Eddie takes a deep breath. (Steve smells like his fancy soap and weed and sweat, and Eddie wants to keep the scene for the rest of his life.) He wraps his arms around Steve’s neck, burying his face between his arm and Steve’s neck, and inhaling again.

“I love you,” Steve says softly.

Eddie pushes a hand into his hair, tugging lightly three times, and Steve hums quietly.

He lifts his head after a moment, looking up at Eddie.

“Even though you didn’t realise I’m deaf after, like, a year.”

Eddie laughs lightly, looking away as his cheeks flush. Steve’s eyes are sparkling playfully, shining in the dim lamplight, and he really is the prettiest thing Eddie’s ever seen.

“Sorry.”

“‘S okay,” Steve says quietly. His eyes stay on Eddie’s lips, and Eddie watches as Steve’s tongue slips across his lips, as he nibbles his bottom lip nervously. Eddie combs through his hair soothingly, and after a moment, Steve’s mouth falls open, and he’s holding his tongue out, and Eddie leans in after briefly wishing for a camera again.

He licks Steve’s tongue, pulling away to look again before he leans back in and sucks his tongue between his lips, sucking and licking at it until both their chins and lips are slick with spit, listening to the sound of their tongues sliding, of Steve’s heavy breaths. When he finally pulls away, Steve’s eyes remain closed, his whole face relaxed and soft and calm. He almost looks asleep. Eddie pets his hair, brushes his fingers over his cheek.

Steve opens his eyes after a moment, and it takes a second for them to focus on Eddie.

“Bed?” he asks softly, almost just breathing the word, and Eddie nods, pressing a kiss to his mouth one more time before he kisses his forehead.

Steve falls asleep first, heavy against Eddie, his head resting on his chest, just over his heart. Eddie wonders if he can feel his heartbeat.

Eddie thinks for a while, staring up at the ceiling in the dim light of the room. (The leave the bathroom light on and the door open. Neither of them can stand the dark anymore.) There are probably some books on sign language at the library. He can ask Robin to pick them up for him. And maybe she can find some classes in town. She’d be willing to teach him what she learns. Of course Steve would also need to learn it. If he wants to. Eddie will ask tomorrow.

Steve sighs, shifting on Eddie’s chest, and Eddie looks down at the top of his head. He carefully, gently presses a hand into his hair, scratching at his scalp and combing through it.

Steve Harrington.

Squeezed Eddie’s throat until he almost couldn’t breath just so he could feel Eddie’s voice because he can’t hear it. Let Eddie suck on his tongue and lick his face and get off on his thigh. Kissed Eddie like he’d die if he didn’t, touched his scars like he’s fragile, like he deserves to be touched delicately.

Said he loves Eddie.

“Eddie,” Steve grumbles against Eddie’s chest. Eddie blinks, looking down at him and tugging his hair to show him that he’s listening. “Go to sleep, baby.”

Eddie smiles, lifting his head to kiss the top of Steve’s head, and then he closes his eyes, because he would walk straight off a cliff if Steve told him to like that.

[sapphirecobalt-1]

Steve and Robin: *doing something they definitely shouldn't be doing*

Steve, to Robin: remember. if we get caught, I'm deaf, and you don't speak English

[libraryofgage]

Good Vibrations Two

This AU got a lot more attention than I expected actually hfjdks I'm so glad everyone likes it!

Anyway, here's part two! We get some concert, some peeks at how Robin helps Steve navigate social situations, and a little Eddie having an itsy-bitsy crisis over Steve's fashion choices.

Have fun! And, as always, if you see any typos, no you didn't (especially for this one since I wrote most of it on my phone actually lmao)

----

Steve stares at the shirts laid out on his bed, arms crossed over his chest. Choosing jeans had been easy, but choosing a shirt is giving him trouble. What do you wear to a metal show at the local dive bar for a small-town band in which the lead singer is a long-time and way-out-of-your-league crush that you've been holding a candle for since the first time you saw him laugh on top of a cafeteria table?

You definitely don't show up in a plain black shirt, that's for sure.

The lights in the hall outside Steve's room flicker, switching off and on three times. Steve just barely notices, which means he doesn't get his pants scared off when Robin appears in the doorway, grinning at him while pocketing the key to the front door he'd given her months ago into a messenger bag. "Hey, dingus," she says, striding into the room and flopping onto the bed.

Steve rolls his eyes, yanking the shirts out from under her and laying them once more over Robin's stomach and legs. "What shirt should I wear?" he asks.

It takes a few seconds for Steve to look from the shirts to Robin, and she patiently waits until he's staring at her to say, "Just pick one. Nobody's gonna care what you're wearing."

"I care," Steve says, frowning as he looks back at the shirts. For the aforementioned crush reason, Steve cares very much about the shirt he wears. "What says 'Hi, we've never talked before but your music is the only thing I can hear and I think your hair is in desperate need of quality shampoo and also I've been halfway in love with you since, like, sophomore year'?"

Robin considers the question for a long moment before picking up a red sweater. "This one says 'I'm horny'," she offers.

Steve blinks, staring at the sweater for a few beats before laughing. "But I'm not," he says.

Despite looking at Robin, she happens to angle her head toward the sweater, and her response is lost on Steve. He frowns, waits until her jaw has stopped moving, and says, "I didn't get that."

After Robin first learned about Steve's deafness, he'd been overly anxious about asking her to repeat things. Somehow, it was worse to constantly ask when the person knew he couldn't hear well, if at all. But Robin had never shown annoyance; she'd just adjust her posture, make sure Steve could see her lips, and repeat her words. She does all of this now, and Steve gets to read her joking response, "Yeah, but you will be."

And, yeah, she has him there. Steve huffs and collapses onto the bed beside her, sacrificing the shirts. "I'll need a jacket," he says, turning his head to look at Robin so he can read her response.

Instead of words, though, he sees her face light up, and she jumps off the bed. Steve sits up, watching as she digs in her messenger bag before pulling out a t-shirt. "Remember when I stayed over a few weeks ago? And you let me borrow a shirt? You should wear it!"

Thankfully, Robin waits until she's done talking to throw the shirt in Steve's face. Honestly, he only understood a few words ("remember," "borrow," and "wear") but he's gathered enough context clues to get the gist of things.

He spreads the shirt out, humming at the Iron Maiden design. It's not one he wears often; for the most part, it's a shirt he wears on lazy days at home because of how soft it is. But as he's studying the design, Steve is suddenly hit with a stroke of pure genius.

He quickly changes into the shirt and then grabs a varsity jacket (not his letterman, but one he'd seen at the mall and bought on a whim because it used a nice shade of yellow) off his desk, tugging it on over the shirt but leaving it unbuttoned. After a few more seconds of digging around, he finds sneakers under the bed and tugs them on.

"Okay," he says, turning so Robin can see the outfit from every angle. He comes to a stop when he's facing her once more, hands buried in his jacket pockets, and asks, "What do you think? How's it look?"

"I think you'll give Eddie a crisis," Robin replies, wrinkling her nose at the varsity jacket. "Not, like, a bad one. But he'll probably ask where you got the shirt from."

Steve grins, thinking that sounds about perfect, and turns to study himself in the mirror. It's a surprisingly solid blend of metal and jock, and it makes him feel oddly confident, the same way he felt the first time he did his hair just right and everyone complimented it.

"Perfect," he decides. "Let's go."

----

The ride to the Hideout isn't exactly quiet, but it's not like Steve can talk and drive at the same time. So it's filled with music blasted as high as it can go on his car stereo, causing the whole vehicle to vibrate with each beat. When he finally turns the car off after parking, Robin grimaces as she rubs her ears.

She waits for Steve to be in front of her before saying, "We're putting the windows down next time."

"Oh. Sorry," Steve says, rubbing the back of his neck a little awkwardly as Robin dismissively waves off his apology.

"No, it's fine, I'm just saying. Now, let's get inside before they start."

With that, she loops her arm through Steve's and drags him into the Hideout. They're hit with a wave of cigarette smoke, spilled beer, and sweat as they walk through the door, the combined smells making Steve dizzy. He frowns, leaning closer to Robin as she squeezes his arm. He feels her thumb tap him twice, their code for asking if the other is okay.

"I'm fine," he mumbles, nodding to a table in the corner. "Let's go sit. I just need to get used to...everything."

The lights are weird, too. Despite the place being dim, the few lights that are on are flickering, and Steve is having trouble processing all the new information his (working) senses are taking in.

Thankfully, Robin pulls him over to the table he pointed to, a small circle near a stage of dubious sturdiness. It looks like it can barely hold the instruments, much less those plus the people who will play them. There's an amp on the side of the stage near the table, which means they'll have the perfect spot to feel the music's vibrations. Steve slides into one of the chairs there and closes his eyes, resting his arms on a table that is surprisingly not sticky.

He feels Robin move the other chair next to him, slide in, and start pulling things out of her bag. When Steve opens his eyes again, there's a notebook between them and a variety of pens in all different colors spread out across the open pages. Robin has already picked up a red pen and is writing with it as Steve chooses a purple one.

When Robin is done writing, she taps the page so Steve can read, "Want something to drink?"

"I'm not sure we can trust the glasses here," he writes back.

"The fact you're calling them "glasses" tells me everything. Just sit tight."

With that, Robin drops her pen, winks at Steve, and heads over to the bar where a woman is wiping the counter. Steve watches her for a few seconds before looking around at the other people in the place. Most of them are sitting in groups, talking amongst themselves. Most of them also have mustaches or beards, making it downright impossible for Steve to read their lips.

Instead, Steve just gets a dull kind of rush in his ears, an ever-present background noise he can't escape. Soon enough, maybe because he's thinking about it too much, a high-pitched ringing starts up in his right ear, growing and growing in pitch until it's all he can focus on. Steve grimaces and looks down at the notebook, trying to keep his shoulders relaxed so he doesn't look as tense as he feels. The ringing persists, and he rubs his ear like that's going to help.

His ear is still ringing, though it has started to diminish, when a water bottle is placed in front of him. Steve jerks, forcing himself to calm down as Robin slides into her seat again with a mug of beer that's more foam than anything else. "They're about to start," she says, waiting until Steve has nodded once to show understanding before taking a sip.

Steve looks up at the stage and wonders how he missed Eddie and his friends arriving. As his friends are setting up behind him, Eddie is resting one hand on the neck of his guitar and using the other to hold the mic close to his mouth. Steve can't read his lips, but Eddie's grin is a little contagious as he says something to a guy by the bar. The guy must say something back, because Eddie bursts out laughing, his head thrown back to show off a neck Steve wants to bite.

A tap on his arm brings his attention away, and he looks at the notebook to see Robin has scrawled out a transcript:

"Eddie: Thanks for coming out tonight, everyone

Guy: Fuck off, Munson

Eddie: Love you, too, Jeremy"

Steve snorts, looking up to see Robin's equally amused smile as she continues to write on another page. When he glances at the stage, Steve sees Eddie still talking into the mic, his eyes roaming over the audience until they reach Steve and Robin. Eddie seems to grip the mic tighter, and he holds Steve's eyes for a few seconds, giving just enough time for Steve to wave awkwardly before Eddie looks away. But his smile seems a little bigger than before, and Steve is happy to let himself think he caused it.

When he looks down again, Robin has finished writing, and she nudges the notebook closer to him. Eddie must talk fast, because her writing is almost indistinguishable from chicken scratch in dirt that a cat got dragged through. Thankfully, Steve is an expert at this point.

"Eddie: Anyway, you know the drill. We'll start with some Metallica, treat you to Iron Maiden, throw in a dash of Black Sabbath, and then grace you with a Corroded Coffin original. If you don't like it, not my problem."

Steve feels the beginning of the set as he finishes reading. He sits a little straighter, planting his feet firmly on the floor and placing his palms on the table with his fingers spread. Robin is still writing next to him, most likely transcribing the bits and pieces of conversation she can hear for Steve to read later and laugh at. She doesn't try to get his attention while she does, already knowing it won't be worth it after Steve has shifted into Music Mode.

In the same way that people can tell what song is playing based simply on the first note, Steve can sometimes tell based on the strength and length of the first vibration. In the same way people know the lyrics of songs after listening to them enough times, Steve knows the vibration patterns like the back of his hand. In the same way people who hear their favorite songs played live can tell when a note is wrong or a lyric is sung too fast, Steve can tell when the drummer or bassist makes tiny mistakes that wouldn't be caught otherwise.

And Steve loves it. He loves how his entire body thrums with each vibration that travels from the amp. He loves how he can close his eyes and picture a story based on the music, one that probably doesn't match the lyrics but tends to replace them in his heart. He loves that this is something he can still share with his friends, even if most of them don't realize how different his experience with music is.

So, for all the little bumps and dips that occur in the vibrations as Corroded Coffin plays, for all the tiny slips that certainly go unnoticed by anyone else, and for all the fact that Steve doesn't get to hear Eddie's voice, he can confidently say he loves the show. He's never heard the songs played like this before, and it helps diminish the gut-deep desperation for new music.

And then Corroded Coffin starts a new song. It's one Steve doesn't recognize, one with vibrations that are completely foreign to him, and he jerks his head up to watch Eddie play his guitar in an opening solo. It thrums across the floor, climbing up his legs and spreading in waves from his palms on the table. Steve feels goosebumps chase after it, a new wave washing over him when the guitar solo ends with a particularly strong vibration that's immediately followed by the drums and bass.

Eddie throws himself into the music, moving and twisting and strutting around the stage like he's playing to Madison Square Garden. Steve can't look away, the lyrics incomprehensible but replaced by the jerk of Eddie's hips and the tilt of his head and the little half-spin he does on his heel.

It ends too quickly with one final, reverberating strum that lingers in Steve's bones, burrowing into his marrows as Eddie pushes his hair back and grins into the mic. He says something breathlessly, his shoulders rising and falling rapidly as he tries to catch his breath, and Steve knows he's gone.

He's hopeless.

He's desperate.

He needs more Corroded Coffin, more Eddie, in whatever form he can get.

----

For the first time, Corroded Coffin gets genuine applause after playing. Usually, the patrons of the Hideout will politely clap (if they even notice the set is over) for about two seconds. Tonight, however, Eddie and his friends are graced with excited clapping, a few shouts, and one very strong whistle from a small table to the left of the stage. And it spreads because even rough biker dudes can fall to peer pressure when it's that enthusiastic.

So, yeah, genuine applause all because of Steve Harrington and Robin Buckley who, Eddie thinks, is surprising company for the former King of Hawkins High. No matter how unexpected, he should still thank them and ask what they thought of the set now that it's over. He carefully sets his guitar on a stand and glances over his shoulder, catching Jeff's gaze and flashing a grin. "I'll be right back," he says before jumping off the stage and heading over to Steve and Robin's table.

As he gets closer, he notices the notebook and pens spread out, colorful writing filling the pages and Steve grinning with amusement as he reads it. Robin is watching him like she's waiting for him to understand an inside joke already so they can laugh about it together. If Eddie didn't already know Robin was like him (band camp, summer after his junior year, during an unfortunate game of Seven Minutes in Heaven where they awkwardly stood in a closet together before Robin commented on his black bandana), he'd wonder if something was going on between them.

"How'd you like the set?" Eddie asks when he reaches the table, suddenly nervous enough to tug on a lock of his hair and pull it in front of his mouth.

Robin looks up, but Steve doesn't. He's still reading the notebook, snorting at whatever is written there like he didn't hear Eddie. It's not until Robin elbows him that he raises his head, eyes widening when he sees Eddie. "Sorry, could you repeat that?" Steve asks, his gaze dropping to Eddie's mouth (Eddie definitely isn't imagining that) and faltering some.

"I asked if you liked the set," Eddie says, frowning slightly as Robin grabs a pen and scribbles something on the notebook. It's too small for him to read, but he doesn't miss how Steve glances down for less than a second before his eyes light up with realization.

"Oh!" he says, looking back at Eddie and flashing a charming grin. "It was great. You guys are so loud, and I've never f-uh, heard anything like your original song before."

Eddie catches the way Steve fumbles, faltering like he wanted to say one word but forced himself to say another. Something is tugging at the back of Eddie's mind, but he can't quite grab onto it just yet. For now, he leans forward, placing both hands on the table so he can be closer to Steve. "You listen to metal often, Harrington?" he asks.

Steve stares at his mouth for a few seconds before nodding, and Eddie feels the thrill of learning something completely unexpected. "I like Black Sabbath best, but Judas Priest and Guns N' Roses are close seconds," Steve says.

"Yeah?" Eddie asks, "What do you like most about it?" He wants to know. Does Steve Harrington (King Steve, Steve "The Hair" Harrington, Steve fucking Harrington) like metal for the same reasons he does? Does he like the stories and the passion and the heavy theatricality of it all?

Steve seems to hesitate, possibly thinking about how to answer, before finally saying, "I like how it's music I can feel. When I listen to metal, it digs into my bones. Other music doesn't."

Somehow, Eddie's grin gets impossibly wider, and his cheeks are hurting from the sheer force of it. He's about to say more when Robin glances at the clock and swears under her breath. "Shit, I promised Mom I'd be home ten minutes ago," she says, grabbing the pens and recklessly throwing them into her bag.

It's the movement that seems to catch Steve's attention, and he looks down at Robin's hands before looking up at the clock. "Oh, fuck, your curfew," he says, looking at Robin like she hadn't just said the same thing two seconds ago.

"Yeah, no shit, dingus," Robin says, pausing long enough to speak while looking straight at Steve before throwing the notebook into her bag, too. She jumps to her feet and hauls Steve out of the chair, making his varsity jacket fall open to reveal an Iron Maiden shirt.

And Eddie thinks his heart just about stops. He doesn't know why, but seeing Steve in a metal band shirt under an undeniably jock jacket makes him feel....something. This is, like, sacrilege, right? How dare Steve Harrington allow Metal and Jock to meet? Doesn't he know the two styles clash? Or, well, they're supposed to clash, but Steve somehow wears them well, and Eddie thinks he's upset and annoyed by the fact.

Before Eddie can analyze that feeling, Steve says, "Sorry to run, Eddie. You played really well. Let me know when the next show is."

There's a lot to unpack there, too. Steve Harrington wants to come to another Corroded Coffin gig. Steve Harrington is sorry he has to cut the conversation short. Steve Harrington thinks his band played really well. Before Eddie can say anything in response, Robin is dragging Steve away, throwing a goodbye over her shoulder.

Eddie doesn't want Steve to go without something, though, some kind of departing word, so he shouts, "See ya later, big boy!"

Steve doesn't look back, but Robin nearly trips over the doorway. She then pauses long enough to say something to Steve, watching with sheer delight as he splutters and glances at Eddie before dragging her through the door. Eddie couldn't stop the grin if he tried, and he didn't try.

Later, when Eddie is sprawled on the floor of his room, staring up at the ceiling and thinking about Steve's stupid combination of Metal and Jock, he'll be struck by a sudden, consuming thought. What if Steve was wearing just the Iron Maiden shirt? What if he wore just the jacket?

Eddie swallows around the sudden lump in his throat, his mouth going dry as he scrambles to his feet and gets ready to take a very, very cold shower.

----

Tag List (the tag list is completely filled up! There definitely wasn't enough room for everyone who requested a tag orz

Please follow the tag "good vibrations Steddie" or put on notifications for my blog to see when new parts are posted :D)

@hallucinatedjosten, @queenie-ofthe-void, @r0binscript, @jewellthebooknerd, @paintgonewrong, @vacantwatchers, @newagemyth, @gutterflower77, @just-a-tiny-void, @littlebluejane

@whenindoubtb72, @different-tale-student, @sharingisntkaren, @current-steddie-brainrot, @willim-billiam-byerson, @nuggies4life

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[aww-canon-no]

Projects self all over Deaf Steve: 

He wants to be a writer, but after getting made fun of by his English teacher, he never tells anyone about this.

He was born Hard of Hearing with progressives loss.  By kindergarten he’s profoundly deaf, but crappy parents just stick him in mainstream school and hope for the best.  They live in a small town so resources are terrible and Steve scrapes by with his horrible bulky hearing aids until he just abandons them because being cool is better than sound anyway.

He learns ASL because he’s got one speech therapist who actually learned about the Deaf community, and it sits in his brain so much better, but it makes switching from ASL to English hard and everyone thinks he’s dumb.

His teachers have written him off.

He starts writing out of spite- learning to turn sentences into lyrical, poetic prose that feel like water rushing over smooth stones whenever he reads them.  But he doesn’t show anyone because when he goes over his work he still finds spots where he gets nouns and verbs swapped, and he drops articles and plurals are hard to remember, okay?  They just don’t make any SENSE in English sometimes.

And yeah his teachers were probably right, even if he never lets go of his petty dreams.

He gets a job working for his dad.  It’s all hearing people and it’s hard and the end of the day he’s exhausted in spite of the fact that it’s not hard labor.  He naps a lot.

He’s still close with the kids he used to babysit so on some days he goes to visit Mike’s house and annoy Nancy who pretends like she’s not happy to see him now that they’re just friends.  The kids have been MIA for a while and Steve finds out why.

He goes down to the basement and one of the prettiest men he’s ever laid eyes on is sitting on a makeshift throne with a book propped up in front of him.  Steve can’t see his lips so he can’t make out what he’s saying but whatever it is, he can tell the guy’s really into it by how the boys are really into it.

His name is Eddie and he talks with his whole body.

When he notices Steve, he also starts throwing in some signs which...

Steve will unpack that later.

Later, Dustin explains DnD to him.  It’s story telling, and it makes Steve feel things.  He’ll never admit to being interested.  Ever.

But he shows up more and Eddie invites him to sit and peek at his notes, and Steve starts making quiet suggestions behind the partition on his fingers once he realizes Eddie’s not fluent but at least conversational.  Eddie looks at Steve with big doe-eyes and an expression of wonder.

He personally invites Steve back.

Together they start planning a campaign and when it’s over--it lasts twenty-eight hours played over two weeks--Eddie cups his face and tells him that it was beautiful thanks to Steve.

At some point, they kiss, because they’re both so obviously in love there’s no point in hiding it anymore.

Eddie shows Steve his music, and Steve buys Eddie some really powerful ear plugs so Eddie can experience how Steve listens to it.

One day Steve suddenly feels like he can’t hide anymore so he shows up at Eddie’s house and dumps a thumb drive in his palm and tells him it’s stupid but he just wanted to share something.

Eddie disappears for two days, and Steve thinks yeah.  It was that bad.

Then Eddie appears with spicy chicken sandwiches in a greasy bag and throws Steve onto his bed and kisses the breath out of him before signing to him that his stories were the best things he’s ever read, and the world should probably know.

Steve doesn’t think he’ll ever actually pursue writing.  But he might write more for Eddie.

[stevesbipanic]

Jonathan can't help but feel guilty some days when he looks at Steve. He sees the glasses and the hearing aids and how sometimes Eddie or Robin would call to tell them that Steve won't be coming today because of a bad migraine.

He's not guilty about not being in Hawkins in '86. He's not guilty about not being in that Russian base. He's not guilty he wasn't there when Billy tried to attack the kids. He's not guilty because all those times he was elsewhere, helping the others, helping Will.

He's guilty because he was there the first time. He's guilty because before he'd even seen a demogorgan he gave Steve his first concussion. He's guilty because sometimes he wonders if Steve would be ok if he had one less hit to the head.

He's guilty because Steve never brings it up, never comments on '83 or about Nancy or about any of it. He's guilty because Steve invites him into his home, into his parties, into his life. He's guilty because Steve calls them friends. He's guilty because when Steve does bring it up he thanks Jonathan for "knocking some sense into me".

He's guilty because no matter how many times Steve has to put in his glasses, or have someone repeat words, or lays in the dark in pain, he never blames Jonathan.

Steve reminds him to not feel guilty, because there's nothing to feel guilty for.

[targetf0rce]

Stobin commission done for @ironic-sonder! Thank you so much for commissioning me <3

[voidpacifist]

steves the type of fella to go, "where the fuck did I put my ears?" if he ever misplaces his hearing aids. and eddie, the little shit, just signs back, they're on your head, silly! followed by steve finding them in the most random spots and shooting eddie a very pointed they were not on my head look

[hairstevington]

Readers of my deaf/HOH Steve fic!!!

It is officially completed for those who are interested :) go check it out here!

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Title: “songs that voices never share”

WC: 70K

Pairing: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson

Summary: Everything's felt a little off since the Fourth of July, and no one's talking about it. Of course, one part of Steve's summer is a bit hard to ignore - he's losing his hearing. As luck would have it, a friend of Dustin's ends up playing a key role in Steve's adjustment to his new normal.

Warnings: angst (with a happy ending!), slow burn, strangers to friends to lovers, hurt/comfort, set between season 3 and 4 in canon universe