Part 1
Eddie’s coming home from the hospital today, and Steve is quietly singing along to love songs like they’re on the radio, but they’re not; they must be just in his head.
Dustin wants to enjoy it, wants to simply look forward to calling the others; they have an ongoing list of songs Steve has sung unconsciously, ranked according to various degrees of embarrassment, the current winner being his butchering of German in Rock Me Amadeus.
But he can’t. He can’t enjoy any of it.
There’s a window open in the car.
Steve keeps it down unless it’s crazy bad rain, ever since he found out that Erica can get motion sick sometimes.
Dustin grips onto his knees.
He’d tried to convince himself it was all centred around the hospital. That he could contain it.
But now he’s in Steve’s car (Steve’s car! Familiar and safe, where there’s still that streak of mud along the inside of the door from Dustin’s sneakers); he’s in Steve’s car trying not to breathe, because every time he does, he sees those damn particles floating in front of him.
“Okay, what?” Steve says, sounding both amused and resigned.
Dustin sucks in the slightest amount of air that he can manage. “Hmm?”
“Dude, I know you. Whenever you’re this quiet, you want something from me.”
“That’s an erroneous conclusion,” Dustin says.
Steve is meant to say something like oh yeah, erroneous, blah, blah, blah.
But Dustin knows his delivery is off when Steve just gives him a sideways glance while they’re stuck in traffic—knows that Steve misinterprets whatever look is on his face, because the driver window is being quickly wound down, too.
“Hey, do you feel sick? I can pull over.”
“I’m good,” Dustin says, only just managing to suppress a shiver as more cold wind seeps inside.
Steve doesn’t seem particularly happy with that answer, but the traffic starts moving again, leaving him with no choice but to drive on.
“Okay, just—we’ll be five minutes tops, all right? Just look at the, uh, horizon.”
Dustin looks ahead.
Doesn’t mention that all he can see is what the sky looked like from the trailer roof.
-
There’s a stack of books at the end of Eddie’s hospital bed—Steve’s gone back to the car to get a cardboard box for them. Dustin spots Nancy’s copy of Little Women on the top of the pile.
(During a visit where Nancy had driven him over, Eddie had made them wait in the corridor for a full five minutes before telling them they could come in, and when they did he was clutching the book with red-rimmed eyes, staring at Nancy so accusingly that Dustin couldn’t help but laugh.
“Beth?” Nancy had said, fighting a smile at Eddie’s melodramatic sigh.
Eddie mimed throwing the book at her, careful not to actually damage it. “Fucking Beth.”)
Another book’s in danger of slipping off the edge of the bed; Dustin catches it before it can fall. Peter Pan. He flicks it open, sees a childishly crooked Property of Steve written in pencil on the title page.
Eddie’s pressing some folded clothes into a bag on the other side of the bed. He looks up.
And Dustin suspects that when he went to the bathroom, Steve and Eddie must’ve had some sort of conversation about him, because Eddie says, “Go sit down, I’ve got this,” like Dustin’s the one who’s been recovering in hospital.
“What, scared I’ll rip your books?” Dustin asks, and this time he knows he’s hit just the right tone of normality, just the right mixture of teasing and petulant, because Eddie snorts.
“Shuddup,” he says, and then he lunges for Dustin, ruffling his hair. His hand lingers for a second, tilting so the back of it touches Dustin’s forehead.
“What the hell?” Dustin says, shoving him off playfully.
Eddie’s still grinning from their tussle, but it fades a bit as he gives Dustin a once-over.
“Thought you looked a little peaked,” he says with a shrug.
Dustin forces an eye roll. “I’m fine.”
Eddie seems to accept that, but he pours an extra glass of water and leaves it on the table; and when Dustin takes it, his mouth opens, and Dustin silently pleads inside his head don’t ask me, don’t ask me, and—
Steve’s voice echoes down the corridor, soft and lilting: Islands in the Stream.
Eddie chuckles. “That’s another one for the list,” he tells Dustin, but his eyes glitter like he doesn’t find it embarrassing at all, and when he’s bundling up the books, his fingers trace the front cover of Peter Pan like it’s a rare gem.
Oh, Dustin thinks. Then: You’re so happy.
Steve enters the room with the cardboard box held aloft like it’s a trophy, and Eddie laughs, makes a quip: “Jesus Christ, we’re not at one of your basketball games, Steve.”
Steve grins, briefly bends his knees as if on the basketball court. “You wish.”
Eddie rolls his eyes, shoots Dustin a look as if to say who does this guy think he is?
But his eyes are saying something else.
He passes the books over to Steve, chatting easily about whatever chapter he’d got up to, and their hands touch with such casual intimacy.
There should be no space for them to worry here, Dustin decides—and so, for the rest of the day, commits to being the most carefree, boisterous version of himself he can manage.
-
It gets to the point where the window in his room is permanently shut.
Where he suddenly has this awful feeling of doubt—that this is something he should’ve called a code red over long ago.
He calls Will, twisting the phone cord around his fingers over and over, so tightly that it hurts.
“Will, you know when. Your—your episodes. The Mindflayer. What. What did it feel like?”
The ensuing silence makes shame run down his spine, cold as ice.
But when Will speaks, he doesn’t sound hurt, or even the slightest bit frightened.
“Why?” he asks.
“It.” Dustin grits his teeth. “I’m worried it might. Might be happening again.”
Another silence, and then Will says, very gently, “Dustin, it’s all closed off. I can’t feel anything anymore.”
“Okay.” Dustin blinks back the sudden burning in his eyes. “Okay.”
“You… you know you can talk to me, right?” Will says, tentative and kind, too kind, because Will is the kid who disappeared, who’s had to deal with all this shit for years, stuff that Dustin could never—
“Yeah,” Dustin says.
“My mom, she’ll be home soon,” Will says, rushed suddenly, like he can sense Dustin’s about to hang up, “if you wanna—”
“Yeah, thanks, I’ve gotta go,” Dustin says all in one breath, and ends the call.
And he realises something—kind of hates himself for it. That if The Upside Down was really back, he would’ve felt terrified, sure, but also…
Relieved.
Because the alternative is that the problem is him.
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tangled in our blanket fort
this is written for the September 3rd STWG daily prompt: getting ready for an event together
aka. my attempt at spreading my dustin/will agenda. (dustin gets his flirting skills from steve and eddie)
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When Dustin blinked his sleep-crusted eyes awake, he found himself pressed against Will’s side in the blanket fort they had made in the Byers’ living room. The last dredges of sleep were slipping through his fingers, so with a sigh, Dustin detached himself from Will’s arms and moved to the kitchen.
He glanced up at the clock on the wall and winced. 12:53. Mrs. Byers had let them sleep in much longer than Dustin had anticipated. Everyone was supposed to arrive for their biweekly movie night in three hours, and they hadn’t even started cleaning up the living room yet.
A quick scan of the kitchen confirmed that Mrs. Byers had taken it upon herself to provide healthy snacks, but Dustin still wanted to bike to town to get chips and other junk that they could stuff their faces with. If he woke Will up now, they would still have enough time to bike to town and back before they had to clean up the mess their sleepover created.
Sliding across the wooden floor in his socks, Dustin belly-flopped onto the mattress next to Will and beamed wide when Will snuffled further into the blankets with his hair sticking up in every direction. Then Will raised his head sleepily to blink at Dustin and wipe lingering drool from the corners of his mouth.
“You okay, Dusty?” Will mumbled, his forehead creasing as he squinted up at him.
Dustin laid back on the mattress nonchalantly. “Oh, yeah, I’m fine. We just have three hours before everyone gets here, and you’ve only just woken up.” Sure, he didn’t mention that he woke up only a few minutes prior, but Will didn’t need to know that.
Will processed the information slowly before his eyes widened and he scrambled off the mattress. “Three hours? We don’t even have any snacks!”
“Well, you better get ready, then, huh Byers? Can’t have you making us late for the movie night that we’re hosting!”
Rolling his eyes, Will pushed Dustin’s shoulder, the light blush dusting his cheeks softening the blow. “You’re one to talk. You’re not even dressed yet.”
With a mischievous grin, Dustin started running toward Will’s room in pursuit of the clothes in his closet, giggling when Will tried to knock him out of the way.
By the time everyone arrived, the blanket fort was still strewn about the living room, and begrudgingly, Steve had needed to order a pizza when it became clear that the trip to get snacks had not happened.
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"Dude," Steve says, pressing on his eyes because he feels like he's about to cry. "What the fuck."
"What?" Dustin squeaks, alarmed. "What? Steve, you're freaking me out!"
"Good!" Because Steve just worked eighteen hours and it's past midnight and he got thrown up on twice and there was a bed pan incident and even though he showered at the hospital he probably smells awful and it rained and he lost his keys so he had to take the bus and he's sweaty and tired and wet and cold and Dustin's DnD friend is hot. "I can't believe you'd do this to me!" Okay, maybe Steve's feeling a little delirious.
"Do what??" Dustin is full on shrieking right now. His hot friend is standing in their apartment looking more and more worried and hot.
"You didn't tell me he was hot!"
The expressions that go across Dustin's face is impressive, before they stop and he settles on a flat glare. "Seriously??"
Hot guy is now blushing and Steve will collapse if he doesn't keep with the righteous fury.
"I've been TRYING to get you two to meet for months now!"
"You didn't tell me he was hot, though! Dustin!!"
"I don't know what guys are hot, Steve!" Dustin says indignantly. "I thought you didn't like nerds!"
"Dustin!"
"Um," says hot guy. He looks like he's panicking.
Dustin's face changes again. "Oh, no. Oh, no, you're right."
"All this time!" Steve says and he really is close to tears. "You've been nagging on me all this time to find my soulmate, and you had the perfect guy right here?? You had him in my home??? Dustin!"
"Whoa," whispers hot guy.
"I'm sorry," Dustin wails now, just as distraught. "You love nerds, all your favorite people are nerds, I don't know what I was thinking, oh my god!" He whirls on hot guy. "Eddie, give Steve your number right now!"
"Okay," says hot guy Eddie, immediately. His face is super red and his eyes are wide, and he looks scared out of his mind as he fumbles his pocket for his phone. "Yeah-Yep-Absolutely. This is a thing that's happening."
Steve, tears burning in his eyes, watches as Dustin punches his number into Eddie's phone. "Okay," he says a little nasally, wiping quickly at his face. "Okay, I'm going to shower and then sleep for two days, and then pretend like this never happened so I can look hot guy in the eye when he asks me on a date. Sound good?"
"Sounds great!" Dustin says, all cheery now. Behind him, still looking vaguely scared for his life, hot guy gives him a shaky thumbs up.
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