#eddie and erica ficlet

[loveinhawkins]

Once they’re far enough away from Angry Hicks Land, Erica rifles through the supplies before finding the bag she’s looking for. She throws it at Eddie, only for him to immediately fumble the catch.

“Wow,” she says. “You’d be immediately kicked off the basketball team.”

“Uh, my talents don’t exactly lie on the basketball court,” Eddie says—his tone is dry but his face is slightly flushed in embarrassment.

“Huh,” Erica says. “Guess Lucas is multi-talented.”

Steve chuckles in approval from the driver’s seat—hopefully not too loudly; yeah, she’d defend her brother to the hilt, but she doesn’t want to get too ridiculous and actually have him overhear her.

Thankfully he seems in a world of his own, sat with Max and Dustin at the back of the RV. His eyes keep flickering over Max and her Walkman headphones.

He’s frowning. He’s been doing that a lot—Erica’s sure he’s had a permanent crease in the middle of his forehead since the year began, probably before then, too.

She wants to iron it out. Doesn’t quite know how to.

The bag rustles as Eddie opens it up. “Um. What’s in—?”

“Essentials,” Erica says.

Eddie blinks. “Sinclair, this is a belt.”

“Your jeans are very sad,” Erica tells him pityingly.

Steve cackles. Eddie’s blush deepens, and he jabs the back of the driver’s seat with his elbow.

“You having fun over there, Harrington?”

“Oh, tons,” Steve says.

Erica laughs. Eddie sticks his tongue out at her.

Once they’re parked outside, she half-loses track of him while correcting Lucas’s abysmal attempt at spear-making. He’s there in the corner of her eye, rough-housing with Dustin, but her thoughts turn vague and distant as she double knots the rope.

A little while later, she’s lying on her back, stretched out in the grass. She can faintly hear Lucas and Max having an arm wrestling match, Dustin providing old-timey sports commentary.

A shadow falls over her.

Erica sits up.

Eddie’s standing there with his hands on his hips. He’s wearing the bullet belt, the metal glinting in the sun.

“Whaddya think?” he says.

Before she can reply, he actually does a full-blown twirl, and it’s maybe one of the most embarrassing things she’s ever seen—which is definitely saying something.

She can’t help the fond smile from breaking out as she rolls her eyes. “Well, at least you’re dressed for the part.”

“Coming from you, Lady Applejack, that’s the highest of compliments.”

Eddie flops down next to her. He leans across and picks up something: her spear. She’d actually forgotten about it, just for a moment.

“Not quite a kukri, huh?”

It’s meant to be a joke, Erica can tell—but she can still hear the tension in his voice. He tosses the spear aside.

A sinking feeling she’s been pushing back makes itself known again; she wishes this was all just a game.

Eddie’s eyes are unfocused, like he’s thinking something similar.

Erica nudges him. “What’s up?”

He shrugs. “Just thinkin’, Sinclair.”

“Hmm. Seems rare for you.”

Eddie snorts. “Shut up. S’just…” He sobers. “Had this whole… plan. I forgot.”

“About?”

A smile. “You. You were gonna, uh. Be it. If you wanted.”

Erica raises an eyebrow.

“Um. The, uh… the leader of Hellfire.”

Eddie’s fingers drum nervously on his knees. Erica takes pity on him.

“You do know I’m eleven, right?”

“Trust me, I’m painfully aware,” Eddie says with a fleeting grin. “Your introduction is seared into my memory goddamn permanently. No, I was gonna… there’d be stand-ins till you got to high school, like whoever wanted to try out… And you’d be the official, uh—”

“Next in line for the throne?” Erica says wryly.

Eddie laughs, but it’s short-lived—he soon turns thoughtful again.

“Sure. Now I’m thinking, what, eleven, twelve…” He counts on his fingers. “Yeah. By the time you start high school, maybe that’s just enough time for people to not lose their minds about…” He smiles weakly. “Hey, maybe don’t call it Hellfire under your reign.”

“Oh, so you think I’m chickenshit,” Erica says.

“No,” Eddie says softly, and suddenly he’s not half-joking; he sounds deadly serious. “Just don’t want you to—y’know, be mixed up with…” He trails off.

Erica’s not told him about what happened at the town hall, but from the way he’s talking she suspects he knows at least a little.

She wants to be able to snark back at him, you really think Hawkins will still be talking about you years later? Please, you’re not that important.

But the thing is, she can’t know that for sure. She doesn’t know what’s going to happen next.

And that scares her.

Something else mixes with the sinking feeling in her stomach. It’s cold and unstoppable: the righteous fury she felt in the hall, as grown adults condemned a boy they did not know, when she’d figured out within barely five minutes of meeting him that he was all bark and no bite.

“Was gonna give you an open invite to Hellfire, anyway,” Eddie’s saying—almost under his breath, as he twists blades of grass around his fingers. “Like, just whenever you could make a session. I was gonna ask you, obviously, but… Was gonna write up, like, solo adventures your character could be part of whenever you couldn’t come. Same for Lucas, if he—”

“Okay, did you actually tell Lucas that?” Erica asks knowingly. “Or did you just think it?”

Eddie shifts guiltily.

“You need to tell him,” Erica says—remembering the week before Christmas that she’d accidentally broken his mug; they’d fought, and Lucas had eventually slunk into her room, somehow convinced that he’d been completely at fault. “Otherwise he just gets all quiet and thinks he’s done something wrong.”

“Noted,” Eddie says quietly. Contrite.

He looks off into the distance at the ongoing arm wrestling match and sighs; falling onto his back, an arm flung over his eyes, he says, “Thought I had all of Spring Break to figure shit out.”

“And what’re you doing right now?” Erica says pointedly. “Get planning, Eddie The Banished.”

Eddie huffs. Smiles. “Okay, okay.”

He lapses into silence. It makes Erica think that he isn’t just dwelling on ideas for a campaign. There’s a crease between his eyes—and maybe it’s a different kind of frown than the one Lucas wears, but it’s a frown all the same.

She gives him a moment, then pulls out a blade of grass and pokes him in the cheek with it.

He lifts his arm off his face. “Hmm?”

Erica holds out her hand. “I’m making the arrangement official.”

“The arrange—oh.”

Eddie sits up, blinks, blinks, blinks.

Oh, honestly, Erica thinks. He’s one of the most soft-hearted people she’s ever met.

She waits until he takes her hand before saying firmly, “To the future of Hellfire.”

Eddie smiles again, and his lips shake just a little at the edges. “The future of Hellfire,” he murmurs.

They shake on it.

“Seems like a fair trade,” Erica adds. “You get a belt, I get your club.”

Eddie laughs, puts an arm around her shoulders and squeezes.

“Erica Sinclair,” he says, eyes bright with affection. “I’d give you the whole goddamn world, if I could.”

[hairmetal666]

What if, after Vecna is defeated, Eddie lives and is recovering in the hospital and one day he's just gone. Like, Steve and the kids come to visit and his hospital room doesn't even exist anymore. It's just a blank stretch of wall. The nurses, nurses they know worked with Eddie, say they've never heard of Eddie Munson and there's never been a room where the kids insist there was the day before. Anyone else they ask says they've never heard the name, even though it was only weeks ago that the entire town formed a mob to hunt him down. Hopper and Murray look into it and there's no record of an Edward Munson in any database anywhere. His previous arrests are gone, his fingerprints, record of Wayne becoming his legal guardian, his social security number, his birth certificate. Even his Uncle Wayne, gone without a trace. Like neither man ever existed.

They search for years, always hoping for word, or a return, or anything. But Eddie was there one day and gone the next. Apparently forever.

They mourn, all of them. He was part of the group, part of the family, and then he was gone with no fanfare or goodbye. Then he was gone and every force in the world pretended like he'd never been there in the first place.

Steve, quietly, takes it hard. He spends weeks crying himself to sleep, clutching the ruined battle vest to his chest. It's just unfair, is all, Steve thinks. '86 was supposed to be Eddie's year.

Time passes and they all grow up, all move away from Hawkins. Steve and Robin move to Indy; she starts college and Steve gets a job at a little bakery because he's a regular already and they're hiring.

He loves baking, finds it calming in a way very few things are for him anymore. After a few good years, the store becomes his, and he didn't know he could be this happy or satisfied with his life, after everything.

He never stops thinking of Eddie.

Close to Steve's 30th birthday, a little bookstore opens up in the vacant building across the way. Steve sees the owner sometimes, dark hair pulled into a sloppy bun, pale skin, the occasional hint of black ink under his dark clothes. Beautiful. They wave at each other almost every morning and Steve ignores the reminders of Eddie. They're commonplace now. Any man with long dark hair, tattoos, and black clothing stirs a spark of recognition in Steve's gut, and the disappointment still hurts even after a decade.

Weeks pass and Steve notices a new display in the window of the bookstore; those dnd guides all the boys have, the dice with too many sides, the little plastic figures and pots of paints and delicate brushes. He vows, the next time the kids are in town, they'll go over and he'll finally introduce himself to that probably nice man whose only sin was a slight resemblance to a boy from Steve's past.

The kids come for a visit only a few weeks later, and are just as enthusiastic about going to the bookstore as he is to take them. He has them help bake his secret-recipe sugar cookies, decorate them in a dnd theme (Erica and Max say they're dorky, and he agrees, despite being pleased with the results).

Steve heads to the bookstore first, to warn the guy about the veritable horde of feral young adults about to descend on his quiet store.

He walks in to the sound of a gently ringing bell and Metallica playing at low volume on the store's speakers. Steve has to ignore it or he'll walk out.

"Be right with you," a muffled voice calls out.

"Take your time," he responds. He browses with the container of cookies in his arms, taking in all the dnd stuff, the signs about dnd club meetings, the stacks of new release books and a couple cds.

"Sorry to keep you waiting," a soft, husky voice says back at the front of the store. It breaks Steve out in goosebumps.

"Don't worry about it. I'm from the bakery across the street, wanted to finally introduce myself. I brought goodies," he adds, sort of blushing.

He steps back up to the cash register, eyes finally settling on the owner he's only seen from afar and all the breath leaves his body. It leaves him lightheaded, dizzy.

Eddie Munson. Eddie. Munson. Stands behind the counter, hair in a bun with messy tendrils around his face. He looks the exact same. Maybe a few more lines around his mouth and eyes. But the same.

"Ed--Eddie?" Steve's voice croaks out. He barely manages to drop the cookies onto the counter and not the floor.

Eddie's deep brown eyes flood with tears, a hand--every finger with a ring--covers his mouth. "Steve," the other man sobs.

There's no hesitation as Steve flings himself into Eddie's arms, the other man catching him and holding him tight.

Eddie squeezes him, crying against Steve's shoulder. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," he repeats.

"I can't believe you're real," Steve murmurs between soft sobs, pressing his face against Eddie's neck.

"I'm real. I'm here," Eddie agrees. "I'm right here, sweetheart."

Steve pulls out of the embrace a little, just to look at Eddie's face. To see after all these years. He presses trembling fingers against the line of Eddie's jaw, and the other man leans into the touch, lets Steve trace the contours of his cheeks, his mouth.

"You're here," Steve agrees.

Their eyes lock, drink each other in, ten years of longing dancing at the knobs of Steve's spine.

"They took me away," Eddie says, deep brown of his eyes serious and pleading. "The government. They snuck me out in the middle of the night and forced me and Wayne to adopt new identities, sent us to New Mexico. Monitored us so I couldn't contact any of you. It killed me, Stevie. To be away from you. From Robin. The kids."

That snaps Steve out of his daze. "Oh, shit. The kids."

It's too late, though. The bell at the door jingles, the usual cacophony that accompanies the seven of them filling the little store in an instant.

Dustin's voice rings out, above the others, "this store is so fucking cool."

"Language," Eddie scolds on auto-pilot. When he realizes what he said and why, his eyes wash with new tears.

The kids turn, as one, to the man they never thought they'd see again.

Steve's fingers dance down Eddie's arm, finding his hand, twining their fingers together. Eddie tightens his grip. Steve's never letting go of this man ever again, and he knows with some deep, element certainty that Eddie feels the same.

"Eddie?" Dustin exclaims.

"Hiya, kid." Eddie smiles a little, ducks his head.

"What the fuck," Max says.

"Anyone have time for a story?" Eddie asks. He dashes away the few tears that track down his cheeks.

"We have all the time in the world," Steve agrees. Doesn't think before he lifts Eddie's hand and presses a kiss just below his knuckles.

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

Eddie and Steve are dating. Steve talks about how great his parents are, and then he drops the ball that he wants to introduce Eddie to them. Yeah, Steve says they're great, but how great are they? Eddie dresses as nice as he can be when his boyfriend comes to pick him up. He's nervous on the ride over to his house, and Eddie realizes that Steve isn't taking him to his house. Where was he taking him? That's when Steve pulls into a driveway. It's the Sinclairs. Eddie raises an eyebrow at him.

"What? Oh, did you think that I was taking you to meet the Harringtons? Ew, no," Steve said, blowing a raspberry. "I should have told you. The Sinclairs adopted me a couple of years ago shortly after the Harringtons abandoned me, leaving me an ugly ass house to try to sell. The Sinclairs are my real parents."

"You didn't tell me on purpose so you could see the look on my face, didn't you?"

"Now, why would I do that?"

"Because you're fucking menace but it's lucky you're cute."

They got out of the car, and before they could even step up to the door, it opened. Sue Sinclair came out to meet them.

"Steve!" Sue said with a smile.

"Hey, mom!" Steve said as he wrapped her in a tight hug and kissed her on the cheek.

Sue leaned in to whisper loudly to Steve.

"You're right. He is cute," Sue said, and Eddie giggled.

He followed Steve and Sue into the house, smiling at how cozy it felt. There were pictures of the family hanging on the walls, with Steve included. Steve’s pictures of when he was younger were thrown in with Erica and Lucas's. This was Steve’s real home. Eddie grinned.

"Oh, it won't be long now before another white boy is added to our family," Erica said, rolling her eyes. "I can hear the wedding bells."

"Erica!" Sue hissed and then tried to whisper. "You know that's illegal."

"I highly doubt that's ever stopped Eddie," Erica said.

"Don't act like you didn't cry when they were both in the hospital," Lucas said.

"Shut up, butt much," Erica said.

"Make me, nerd!"

"You're the nerd!"

"Erica! Lucas!" Sue snapped.

Eddie watched Steve as he watched his siblings argue. He loved the fond expression on his face. It was so cute.

"Oh, please, you'd love to have me as a brother in law, Erica. Think of all the benefits you could reap in Hellfire," Eddie said.

"I'm listening," Erica said as she stopped throwing her bread at Lucas.

"Hey!" Lucas snapped. "What about me?!"

[undreaming-fanfiction]

Safe and Sound

When Eddie and Steve settle into their relationship, the Party notices some...interesting changes about their Dungeon Master and their favorite babysitter.

Eddie has always been one of the most alert people they have known. It probably comes with the drug dealing territory and also being the town freak, he never knew when he’d get jumped on the street or simply tossed around for a good laugh of the local jocks. He always watched his surroundings like a hawk, his dark eyes sharp in contrast to the laid back smile. Eddie was quick on his feet, always ready to move out of the way or jump to the higher ground.

The Party can’t exactly put a finger on it at first, but there is definitely something different now that Eddie and Steve sat them down, explained to them that they got their wish, they finally get along, actually, they might be getting along way more than they ever hoped, and after some clarification ("is it because all of your dates in last year sucked, Steve?" asked Dustin and got smacked by Max in return) the Party congratulated them and pretended to gag at every display of affection. The first one to notice the change is Erica, they are all walking to get some ice cream before they continue their campaign and Eddie is taking notes, mumbling to himself and scribbling numbers in his notebook. Steve walks next to him, just a mere friend to an outsider's gaze. Eddie is completely immersed in the campaign planning and he nearly walks into the street light - but only nearly because Steve is there, gently grabbing Eddie's elbow and redirecting him out of harm's way. The metalhead just mutters "thanks, love" and keeps taking notes as if nothing has just happened. Erica rolls her eyes and scoffs at Eddie. "What happened to attention to your surroundings, not cool anymore?" and Eddie just smirks, not looking up from his notes, while Steve answers: "It's okay, I got him. Let him work on your dragon hunting thing so he actually gets some sleep tonight." Erica doesn't say anything after that, but the wheels are turning in her head. 

The summer is very hot this time, and they decide to go swimming to the quarry, burying the bad memories under a pile of new ones, joyful ones. Steve stays with Eddie on the shore while the seven children test the water, splash each other and slowly escalate to a full-scale war. Mike spits out a mouthful of water after being dunked and prepares for counter attack, but his opponent - Max - is distracted. She's looking at their babysitters, slightly frowning. "I swear that normally Steve would be shouting his vocal chords away that we're taking it too far," she says and squints to look why they're not getting the usual load of motherly care. It appears that Steve is...sleeping? Well, that is unusual. His head is in Eddie's lap while the other man strokes his hair, watching the teenagers play. Max just shrugs and goes back to drowning Mike, but she makes sure to check on the two of them afterwards. 

"Something wrong, Red?" smiles Eddie, his voice quiet not to wake Steve up. The hand in his hair doesn't let up. 

Max shakes her head, watching the rise and fall of Steve's distractingly hairy chest. "No, it's just...I haven't seen him this relaxed in a while. I got kind of worried when he didn't yell at us for...well," she points towards the water where Mike and Lucas are wrestling. 

Eddie just smirks. "He deserves the rest. You know he's been watching you tiny shits for years nonstop, so I'm taking over when he lets me. And as far as I'm concerned, if there is no loss of life or limbs, you're good. But keep it tame. If you make me get over there and wake Stevie up, there might be loss of life after all. Now off you go, gang up on Wheeler or something."

It's Will who manages to articulate what they're all unable to when Steve hosts the next Hellfire Club meeting, carrying trays of baked snacks to the table. His hand slips a bit, but before anything falls and ruins the pristine carpet, Eddie is there, stabilizing him. "I got you, love," he mutters and takes the tray from his hands. Steve just smiles back, no words needed. 

When they disappear into the kitchen to bring drinks, Will smiles to himself. "They look so in sync," he mentions to Max who seems to be sharing his thoughts. "They've always been so..."

"Sharp? Alert? Freaking out about the next catastrophe?" she supplies. 

Will nods. "Yeah. It's nice to see them finally being able to relax. I mean, I guess it comes with dating, but not for everyone. I'm happy for them. It...it must be nice," he finishes, a tinge of pink in his cheeks. 

Max just smiles at him and squeezes his hand under the table. "You will get there too," she assures him. "And then Erica will be on your case all the time when your...partner..." she says quietly, not daring to voice her suspicions aloud, "has to hold you back from jumping under a car because you're too caught up in sketching." 

Will snickers and Max joins in, giving his hand one final squeeze. "I'd like that," he says, his eyes bright, just like their future.

[withacapitalp]

Root Beer

Happy birthday @stevesbipanic !!! I had an idea for this so long ago, but then your birthday gave me the perfect excuse to write it. I'm so honored we are friends, I am still so shocked about it (Flashback to my OG post about Tumblr royalty liking one of my posts) and I cannot wait to get to spend even more time with you <333

“Remind me again why you always pay for Erica’s ice cream?” Eddie wondered as Steve dug into his wallet and forked over the dollar eighty five required for Erica’s scoop of cotton candy with rainbow sprinkles. 

“It’s reparations for child endangerment,” Erica replied immediately, sticking her tongue out briefly as Steve rolled his eyes. 

Eddie automatically stuck his tongue out right back at her, making her laugh as she skipped off to the other side of the counter and waited for her treat. The kids had asked for a ride to the ice cream shop, but in a rare display of discipline, Steve had refused to pay for any of them except Erica, and, shockingly, no one had complained. They had all pooled their money, ordered three sundaes to split, and were now sitting in the corner digging into their treats. 

“I’ll tell you about it some other time,” Steve promised, keeping his wallet open as he turned towards his boyfriend, “Are you gonna get anything?” 

“Still deciding,” Eddie said, bouncing on his heels. 

The shop was no Scoops Ahoy, but it did have a wide array of different options, all with wonderful punny names. He was currently between getting a ‘Bloody Sundae’, which was a vanilla scoop with cherry syrup and chocolate sprinkles, or a ‘Mint to be’, which was mint chocolate chip with whipped cream and bright green sprinkles. 

Maybe he could get both if he gave Steve the right amount of puppy eyes. That usually worked for other things. Dates, getting to pick the movie they watched at night…..other….things. 

Eddie was still thinking through his strategy as Steve stepped up to order. 

“Can I get a large root beer float with soft serve twist and a cone on the side?” Steve asked, using his customer service voice with a charming smile, making the girl behind the counter twitter and twirl her hair as she rang him up and walked off to make his float. 

Eddie blinked a few times trying to register what Steve had just said, before groaning loudly and pulling a disgusted face. 

“What?” Steve wondered, bewildered by Eddie’s vehement reaction. 

“Root beer,” Eddie said with a grimace, waggling his tongue. 

“What’s wrong with root beer?” 

“It’s so…sweet,” Eddie finally got out, trying and failing to find the exact words to explain his complete disdain for root beer. He had given root beer a real try, multiple attempts and everything, but every time he had spat it out, unable to enjoy the taste. 

“Eddie, I have seen you eat a frosting sandwich,” Steve said in a complete deadpan, giving Eddie a raised brow look, “Just frosting and white bread,”

“Don’t judge my trailer park cuisine, rich boy!” Eddie cried in an overdramatic tone, clutching his chest and shaking his head with his eyes shut tight, “I’m not the one having nasty icky sarsaparilla nonsense, making future kisses completely impossible until you have purged yourself of the disgusting concoction.”

Steve burst into bright loud laughter, lighting up the entire store like he was the goddamn sun. Eddie paused in his diatribe, watching Steve with lovesick eyes as he giggled uncontrollably. 

“Sarsaparilla concoction,” Steve huffed out, continuing to chuckle, “God, I love you, you big dork.”

Oh. 

Oh. 

Both of them paused, staring at each other with wide eyes as they took in what Steve had just let slip out. 

It wasn’t like they didn’t both know. They had been dating for three months, crushing on each other for two before that, and every minute had been pure bliss. There was no doubt that Steve was the love of his life, and Eddie had been pretty sure Steve felt the same. 

Now he knew for a fact, and that was a lot to take in standing in the middle of a subpar ice cream shop. 

“I- um- I,” Steve stopped trying to stutter, giving Eddie a nervous little look, letting his eyes drop to his shoes as he shuffled in place. Eddie’s surprise faded into unbearably warm affection. He reached over and quickly squeezed Steve’s hand, knowing he wasn’t able to do more in public, but wishing he could kiss Steve until they were both drunk and delirious on their love. 

“I’ll have a black raspberry shake with chocolate sprinkles, whipped cream, and hot fudge,” Eddie called out as the cashier walked back over with Steve’s float, delivering it with a flirty little smile. Steve didn't even look at her as he took his ice cream, and she rang them up lightning fast, clearly jilted by his non-response. Eddie couldn't care less, dragging Steve over to their tables and waiting for his order to be called. 

“I love you too, sweetheart,” Eddie said softly as they sat down, the words being overshadowed by the sound of their kids happily screaming at each other. He looked around and risked a quick kiss on the cheek, getting Steve buttered up and happy before he finished his sentence. 

“Even if your taste is trash,” 

[stevethehairington]

nancy knows how to write.

robin knows languages.

eddie knows music.

and steve? steve knows the party.

he knows how to make nancy laugh and crack a smile after a frustrating day at work has her nearly in tears. he knows all of the kids' favorite ice cream flavors. he knows the exact stats of lucas' basketball season — both the team's and lucas' personal numbers. he knows every detail of lady applejack's backstory, and could explain it just as well as erica could to somebody should they ask, despite the fact that he has no interest in and no experience playing dnd. he knows how to talk robin down from a spiral and exactly what kind of comfort she needs after. he knows the kids' schedules and when and where to pick them up on what day so that they're never left waiting and always make it home safe and on time. he knows eddie's favorite brand of cigarettes, and buys him a new pack when there's still two left in the old one, because he knows that eddie will finish them and keep forgetting to replace it and complain. he knows the recipe to dustin's favorite casserole and has it nearly perfected. he knows the names of max's favorite skateboarders and can identify all of the tricks she can do even if she's only mentioned what it's called once before, or sometimes even when she hasn't told him the name at all. he knows that mike knows how to braid hair, learned it for holly and is pretty damn good at it, so good that he asks mike to teach him too. he knows that el has a huge sweet tooth but likes sour candy best because it makes her mouth feel tingly. he knows will's preferred brand of colored pencils but also how to get charcoal stains out of clothes.

steve knows the party.

and that is JUST as important as anything else.

[angeldreamsoffanfic]

Elizabeth Marie Munson née Hart was buried on the 2nd Sunday of May back in 1977, back when Eddie had only been eleven. It had been hard, not that death was ever an… easy thing mind you.

She’d been buried in Hawkins, as stated in the will that’d she’d put together (no matter if it had been written on hospital napkins or not it was followed just the same). Eddie’s custody had been a bit more complicated, as Al Munson had put up a bit of a fight in regards to Elizabeth’s wishes. She was adamant that Eddie go to Wayne, while Al didn’t care about what happened to him… as long as it went against what Elizabeth had wanted.

But no matter, because Eddie knew that Elizabeth loved him as much (if not more somehow) than Wayne did. And Eddie loved Wayne, honestly and wholeheartedly he did. But there was something missing from his life, and that was his mama.

Which, Eddie knows distantly, is what makes the day today as difficult to swallow as it does.

Because not only is it the day of his mama’s death but it’s also Mother’s Day.

And he can’t exactly fault anyone in his life for not being able to understand how he feels today. He really can’t bring himself to, even as he sits right in front of his mama’s gravestone- knees to his chest like he’s a little kid again. The rest of his odd found family has their parents, and so they just… they don’t fully understand what Eddie’s going through.

Not really anyway.

He knows they mean well, really he does. But no matter, because it’s hard and he already has a lot on his mind as it stands.

Eddie pauses and draws in a shaking breath, eyes wet and glossy with yet to shed tears, as he keeps his chin on his knees even as he hears a car door slam shut. It’s followed by several other ones, and Eddie doesn’t look behind him as he hears slowly measured footsteps behind him. He doesn’t turn, but he does speak.

“You don’t have to be here, Harrington.”

“Not Harrington, son.” It’s Hopper’s voice that makes Eddie finally turn, and he’s greeted to the sight of the older man- holding a bouquet of pink tulips wrapped in cellophane. Hopper’s in one of his nice shirts, one of the ones that Eddie knows that Joyce forced him in.

“What are you doing here?” Eddie manages to croak out, and the corner of Hopper’s lip twitches slightly- before he gestures with his head back to the parking lot.

“If you think you’re alone today, kiddo, you really got another thing coming.”

Eddie turns his head slightly to look past Hopper, and he can’t help the choked gasp that manages to make its way out of his throat. The entire group is there, all the way from The Party down to even the Corroded Coffin boys. Everyone in their crisp Sunday best (or as close to it anyway) with bright bouquets of pink tulips held between their hands.

Eddie turns again to look at Hopper, and can’t get out any words as he watches as Hopper is joined by Steve Harrington. Eddie has never quite been able to figure out Steve (no matter how much he tries), but he never…

“Hey ma’am,” Steve isn’t even looking at Eddie though, instead focused quite intently on the area behind Eddie… and oh.

Oh.

“I’ve had the pleasure of being one of your son’s friends this past year,” Steve carefully speaks as he moves closer until he’s next to Eddie, before he sits down- not minding getting dirt and grass on his pants. “And we all missed this last year but we figured… well we couldn’t let him come down here and mourn you alone.”

“Stevie-” Eddie tries, and Steve says nothing as he reaches a blind hand out- before he entwines his fingers with Eddie’s. Eddie sniffles again, even as Steve presses the tulips as close to the grave as he can.

“Your son matters to so many people, Ms. Hart, I mean that genuinely and honestly.” Steve keeps going, as if Eddie had said nothing. Eddie tries to keep the tears at bay, holding onto Steve’s hand as if it’s a lifeline. “And I didn’t know how to really show that… but I figured this might help a bit.”

Eddie is confused for just a split second, before he hears Jim Hopper clear his throat- before he then speaks.

“Ma’am, I know that your son has made a safety net for my daughter in the times where I couldn’t. I know that she loves him, truly, and for that I’m a bit more than grateful towards you.” Hopper then clears his throat, before he carefully steps around them- and sets his bouquet of tulips right next to the ones that Steve had put down.

Hopper curls a hand around Steve’s shoulder and bends to whisper something into his ear, and Eddie focuses on blinking back his tears as the man turns and walks away.

It’s silent for a minute, before it continues again.

“Hi Ms. Hart, Eddie’s told me a load about you and he was my first friend here in Hawkins and I just want to let you know we… we haven’t forgot about you.” Gareth’s voice is next, and Eddie lets out another sniffle as he sets a bouquet down. He doesn’t leave though, and instead sits right next to Eddie- taking the hand that Steve isn’t holding.

“Hi ma’am, Eddie hasn’t told me much about you… but I think you’d like the man he turned out to be, and from one mom to another? I’m keeping an eye on him for you.” Joyce. Another bouquet.

“He’s like really cool and taught us so much about this game we play, Dungeons and Dragons and I’m not sure if you knew what that was but it’s like this role playing-” Dustin. Another bouquet.

“He’s like my brother-” Jeff. Another bouquet.

“He’s like my son-” Wayne. Another bouquet. And a firm hand on a shoulder that never leaves.

“You’re someone he talks about whenever I need him to and that means a lot-” Max. Another set of flowers. A kiss against the top of Eddie’s head.

“He’s a good kid and you had to have been like an amazing mom for him to turn out the way he did because let me tell you-” Robin. Another bouquet.

“My dad says I’m allowed to choose my family and I chose Eddie, and from what he’s told me… you were a good mama.” Eleven sniffles softly as she presses her flowers into the ever-growing pile at the base of the gravestone. Eddie reaches out a touches the back of her leg- and it’s enough for the girl to launch herself into Eddie’s arms.

They stay like that. No one questions it.

“From his stories you sound really interesting and I think my mom and-” Mike. Another bouquet.

“Hello ma’am-” Lucas. Another bouquet.

“He’s kind of a nerd but-” Erica. Another bouquet.

“He’s a really good friend, Ms. Hart. Like there’s not a lot of them out in the world, and Eddie’s a good one.” Freak. Another bouquet.

“You and Wayne raised him right and I hope that wherever you are-” Nancy. Another bouquet.

“From what he’s-” Jonathan. Another bouquet.

“Ms. Dudette he’s so-” Argyle. Another bouquet.

“He’s one of my brothers. And that’s all there is to it, and I’m so sad we couldn’t meet and I couldn’t tell you this in person-” Will. Another bouquet.

In the end, Elizabeth Marie Munson née Hart has nineteen bouquets of pink tulips surrounding her grave. In the end, she and her son are completely and wholly surrounded by people that may not have known her— but they love her just the same.

Eddie Munson smiles, and clears his throat as he begins to speak, pulling the attention of his family to him.

“So the reasons why mama liked pink tulips is-”

The sun slowly begins to set as the ragtag group settles in to listen to Eddie’s story, all scrunched in as close as they can.

And for once in his life?

Eddie Munson hates the 2nd Sunday of May just a little bit less.

-

sacrifice to the readmore gods. mother’s day is really hard for me sometimes, so enjoy this word vomit of a ficlet i produced in about an hour. <3

[formosusiniquis]

“There's a goblin, crouched over a large stone table. He's got long greasy hair that probably hasn't ever been washed and his clothes are ripped and ugly. He smells like pipe smoke and mutters to himself as you approach.”

Steve sighs and bravely stops himself from beating his head repeatedly against the table, “Erica.”

“What?” she’s even less affected by his chiding when she’s behind her DM screen, and she wasn’t that affected to begin with. “I'm just describing the character.”

“I'm sorry I said it was adorable, okay! Is that what you want to hear?”

Robin abandons her dice tower to glare at him, “Dingus, what'd you do?”

“Opened his big mouth when he shouldn't have.” A true if mostly inaccurate description of what happened, but he should have known better than to try to speak when Erica actually opened up a little.

“Dude, you know when you annoy Erica the rest of us suffer.” Now Dustin is whining, as if Steve weren’t being punished enough.

“I don't see how anyone is suffering,” but him. Steve definitely feels like he is suffering .

Robin leans in close and whispers, “You'll tell me later?” It’s a Robin whisper though, and it doesn’t go unheard by their temperamental pre-teen DM.

“The goblin is oblivious to the party too busy fooling around with poorly painted figurines-”

“That's out of line.” He’s got his dad voice out now, this was supposed to be a fun session and now he’s parenting.

“That's where you're gonna draw it?” She actually seems surprised by that, eyebrow arched at the idea that she found Steve’s line in the sand.

“Nobody has insulted the things you've worked on.”

“Fine, he's fooling around with his perfectly fine figurines, but he won't shut up about changed princes.”

He can feel it click for Robin, she shoves him almost off of the Sinclair’s overstuffed couch. He won’t look at her, he doesn’t want to look at her stupid I’m gonna mock you face. “Stephan!”

“I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings,” he apologizes, “I really do think it's cute.” But he’s not ready to grovel yet.

“Can dish it out but you can't take it, Harrington.” he rubs a hand down his face, pushing the impending headache this whole thing is causing back into his brain as best he can, and when he looks back up he sees an eleven year old.

“I wasn't dishing anything,” he says, remembering how awful and uncomfortable it was to be eleven. To have crushes and feelings that you didn’t know what to do about, and how much worse it was to not have anyone to help you figure them all out.

“Promise,” her lip doesn’t wobble and her tone doesn’t shake because she’s Erica Sinclair future president of the world, but the youth and the nerves are there all the same.

“Promise.”

“Fine, don't ever try to talk to me about this again.”

“Again, I was agreeing with you.” Because he’s still him and she’s still her and if he let it go too easily there would be just as much hell to pay. “I was saying you have good taste.”

“Stop, I have seen where your current tastes are. Don't align me with you.”

“Fine, fine. Are you going to be nicer?”

“I guess. As you walk into the cave you pass through a powerful illusion, you see that the goblin is really an average looking human man who probably washes his hair at least sometimes.” It’s really the best he could hope for, he figures.

“Wait, is this Eddie?” Dustin’s shrieking as he finally catches up with the interpersonal drama happening at the table is liable to send them back to the start.

“No, and he's not average looking.” He’s not sure who that comment is meant for. Erica for suggesting it or Dustin for finally catching up because of it.

“Mind your business,” Erica shoots back, just as done with the conversation as Steve is, “or your spell components are gonna get harder to find. And he’s not exactly anything to write home about.”

“Can we get back to it,” Robin interrupts, the true love of his life and the jealous hoarder of all opportunities to bully him about his love life, “I was promised a fight for my new dagger and I will use it on this gremlin man who seems like he needs to expand his music tastes if I have to.”

“Robin!” She deserves to get her punches in, he guesses, and if it’s his turn to get mocked by the Scoops Troop at least it’s not happening on a bathroom floor.

[vyncentevelyn]

I cannot for the life of me get this idea out of my head…so…

Like we all know Steve, the beautiful single mother of 7, can cook. Has learned to cook a variety of meals and treats. Knows everyone’s favorites.

Max loves roast with mashed potatoes and glazed carrots. Erica loves quiche. El loves French toast with fresh strawberries and lots of syrup. Mike loves tomato soup and grilled cheese made with soft buttered rolls. Dustin loves chicken nuggets with homemade honey mustard sauce, and Steve knows he prefers steamed broccoli even though he won’t admit it. Lucas loves eggplant Parmesan with diced olives in the marinara. And Will loves homemade chicken noodle soup, for which Steve makes fat egg noodles and his own broth.

Steve even knows the older members of The Party’s favorites. Nancy loves vegetarian curry, the spicer the better. Argyle loves chicken pot pie. Jonathan loves meatloaf with buttery peas and roasted sweet potatoes. And Robin, love of his life, loves soft scrambled egg over rice.

He knows all their favorite snacks too. Learns to make potato chips, mini pizzas, pigs-in-a-blanket, popcorn. Always has fresh fruit and veggies with a variety of homemade dips. And when Hellfires starts playing at his house, he learns all of the members favorite snacks too.

He even makes an actual 7 course meal for the end of a Hellfire campaign for Will’s birthday. It impresses everyone.

And none of them complain about the desserts. He learns to bake cookies, brownies, cinnamon rolls, cakes. Anything they ask for, he delivers.

And Eddie, he loves all of it. Will eat anything without fail. Tells Steve after every meal it was his favorite. And when pushed about what is *actually* his favorite food Eddie will say something like, “Babe you could serve me a phone book covered in gravy and I think it would be delicious if you made it.”

So Steve figures Eddie just loves food or there’s something only Wayne knows how to cook a certain way and that’s Eddie’s favorite.

But one night Steve is exhausted. It’s just Eddie and Steve alone for dinner. And Steve just doesn’t have it in him to actually cook. So he makes a box of Kraft mac and cheese. Does the bare minimum. Boils the noodles adds salt. Mixes in the butter, milk, cheese powder. Sprinkles in a tiny bit of nutmeg. Adds cracked pepper. Globs some hot sauce in it. Then serves it.

And Eddie loses his goddamn shit over it.

And Steve can’t comprehend it at first. All of the extravagant meals and this…THIS is what Eddie flips out about.

Steve ends up making a lot of Kraft mac and cheese.

[ghosttotheparty]

hi for the writing prompt ask? could you do steddie + 3 or 97 you pick!

(love your writing sm 💕)

thank you sm!!! <3 i did both bc i have no self control

dialogue asks

3. “What the hell is that and why are you wearing it?” 97. “I definitely wasn’t hanging around here hoping to bump into you or anything...” (i changed this one a bit to fit the dialogue more)

Eddie heard a rumour.

Steve Harrington works at Starcourt.

Everybody thought he’d be off to college, Stanford or some other college too expensive for Eddie to even consider applying to. (Not that any of them could possibly accept him in the first place.)

It’s summertime. Gareth is in San Antonio visiting his grandparents, and Jeff is in Chicago visiting his dad, and Paul is in Michigan for some reason. (Eddie can’t remember.) And Eddie is beginning to go a little crazy stuck in his room with nothing to do (he supposes he could study his schoolwork from last year, but… Ew.), and the air conditioner in the trailer isn’t very good, and he thinks he might melt.

So he goes to Starcourt.

With no ulterior motives, obviously. It’s just hot. And Starcourt is nice and cool inside, and he doesn’t get bored at all, wandering and browsing, and definitely not scanning every store he passes looking for pretty brown hair.

He hasn’t seen Steve anywhere. Not that it matters, because he’s not there for him. Obviously. He’s there to look in the music store, at records that he can’t afford right now and posters he’s like to put on his ceiling. He’s there to sit by the fountain and listen to the water and people watch, and ignore the people that are eyeing him like he stole something. (Which he didn’t. Not today, at least.)

He lets his eyes wander as he sits by the fountain. The sound of it drowns out the noise of the people talking and laughing and shouting, the noise of rubber shoe soles squeaking on the brand new tile floor and the humming of the escalators and the buzzing of the lights. Some girls are finding their places sitting around the fountain, near him. They’re all licking ice cream cones.

“Hey,” Eddie says, leaning toward the girl sitting at the top. She seems to be the group leader.

“What?” she says bluntly, looking him up and down very obviously. He tries not to laugh.

“How much was that?” he asks, nodding toward her ice cream.

“A dollar twenty-five.”

“Oh.”

“But,” she adds, and her friends giggle. “Scoops company policy says you can have as many tastes as you want, so basically that’s unlimited ice cream.” She holds up a finger to make her point. “Loophole.”

He stares at her blankly for a moment before he snorts.

“You’re clever.”

“Yes, I am,” she says, a dismissal, and he turned away with a nod. He reaches into his pocket to find his change, counting the coins and thinking hard.

Fuck it.

“Watch my bag?” he asks the girl, and shrugs in a Sure, whatever gesture.

He hops up and heads toward Scoops, pausing to let some kids pass him before he freezes in the entrance of it.

Because holy fucking shit.

There he is.

Steve fucking Harrington, in all his glory, wearing a cute little sailor costume with a cap on his head. He’s talking to a red-headed girl, looking bored and fed up, and he has to know her, because there’s no way he can talk to a regular customer like that. She’s laughing when she walks away, running to catch up with her friends, and Steve’s eyes follow her, half-smiling and shaking his head fondly before his eyes meet Eddie’s.

His face turns pink, and Eddie grins as he crosses the shop, approaching him.

“Munson,” Steve greets. Eddie looks him up and down, peering over the counter to see his long legs, and the horrific shorts he’s wearing. Eddie loves it.

“What the hell is that,” he says slowly, looking back into his eyes, “why are you wearing it?”

“Work uniform,” Steve says uncomfortably, and Robin Buckley appears in the window behind him, wearing an identical cap on her head.

“Edward,” she says dryly.

“Unfair that Robin isn’t short for anything, Buckley.”

“Hah.” She looks at Steve, who’s moved so they can see each other, looking back and forth between them. “What, you’re not gonna do your spiel?”

“What spiel?” Eddie questions, his interest piqued as Steve’s cheeks flush with colour again.

“Nothing,” Steve says, looking sharply at Robin. “There’s no spiel.”

“There’s a spiel,” Robin tells Eddie.

“What’s the spiel?”

“The spiel is—”

“Stop saying spiel,” Steve says loudly, and Robin and Eddie burst into giggles.

“Do it,” Robin encourages. Steve glares at her then looks at Eddie, who raises his eyebrows expectantly, and he sighs heavily, giving in.

“Ahoy, Eddie!” he says loudly and flatly, imitating enthusiasm. Eddie’s eyes widen. “Didn’t see you there. Would you like to set sail on this ocean of flavour with me? I’ll be your captain.”

There’s a short moment of silence before Eddie bursts into laughter, doubling over, and Steve sighs again.

“Incredible,” Eddie says when he can speak again, still giggling. “Amazing.”

“Alright. Are you here for ice cream or are you just gonna keep making fun of me?”

“This,” Eddie says, gesturing to Steve’s whole body (meaning the uniform, obviously), “is better than any ice cream.”

“Are you sure, ‘cause the USS Butterscotch is pretty fuckin’ good.”

“Oh, positive,” Eddie says, nods. “For sure. Better than any kind of chocolate fudge whatever.”

“Butterscotch isn’t chocolate.”

“I know what butterscotch is,” Eddie says defensively.

“I’m not sure you do.”

Eddie makes an indignant noise, but Robin interrupts.

“Alright, now you guys are just flirting.”

Steve whips around to look at her, and Eddie’s face flushes with heat as he glares at her, mouthing Shut the fuck up. She just grins.

“What do you want?” Steve asks when he turns back toward Eddie, his cheeks pink again.

“Uh. Guess I’ll try the butterscotch.”

“Good choice.”

Eddie watches him shamelessly just because he can, his eyes following him as he flips the ice cream scooper in his hand in way that’s unfairly cool, especially considering it’s an ice cream scooper, as he reaches into the tub of ice cream and scrapes at it. His sleeves are short enough that Eddie can watch his muscles flex and shift under his skin, and Eddie wishes the A/C was stronger in here.

“Dollar twenty-five,” Steve says, setting the cone on the counter, and Eddie holds out the coins, dropping them in Steve's hand. (He ignores the way his fingertips brush his palms.) Steve’s brows furrow as he counts them, and he pauses, counting again. “You’re a dime short, I think.”

“What?” Eddie leans over the counter to look at the change in his hand. “I thought I had a dollar twenty-five.”

Steve makes a face, shrugging and holding the coins out. Eddie’s missing a dime.

“Damn,” he says.

“Don’t worry ‘bout it,” Steve says, closing his hand around the coins and sorting them in the cash register.

“Huh?”

“‘S fine,” Steve says lightly, smiling, and he reaches for the tip jar, looking in it and rummaging through it until he produces a dime.

“Hey,” Robin says loudly behind him. “Those are my tips too, dingus.”

“I’m the only one working right now,” Steve says, dropping the coin noisily into the cash register.

“We have one single customer, you ass.”

Eddie questions her emphasis on single, but Steve doesn’t seem to notice.

“Thanks for coming,” he says brightly, smiling in a way that looks like it’s covering up a different smile, and Eddie takes his ice cream.

“Thanks, Harrington.”

He starts walking backwards out, watching as Steve pushes the cash register shut, his smile softening.

“We get off at five!” Robin calls loudly, and Steve turns around to her, hissing, “Shut the fuck up.”

Eddie winks at her.

“Aren’t they weird?” the girl asks when Eddie goes back to the fountain with his ice cream, and he cackles.

He sits and eats his ice cream as he people watches again, until he gets bored and pulls his book out of his bag.

“Oh, you’re a nerd,” the girl says, and he looks up at her.

“What’s wrong with nerds?” he asks, setting the book in his lap and eating the last of the styrofoam-y cone.

“They’re weird,” she says. Her friends giggle. “I know nerds. My brother’s a nerd.”

“Mhmm. Would I like him?”

“Probably. You know Dungeons and Dragons?”

Eddie grins at her.

“I’m a Dungeon Master.”

She looks him up and down again.

“Yeah, you’d like him.”

“Alright, well, nerd or not, The Princess Bride is a good book.”

“You’re reading about a princess?” one of the girls asks, and they all giggle as he puts on an offended expression.

“What, I don’t look like I read about princesses?”

They just giggle again.

They’re curious about the book, and why someone like him, as the leader so politely puts it, likes it so much, so he scoots closer and flips the book to the front page.

He puts on voices as he reads to them, acting the way he does during campaigns, theatrical and silly to make them giggle.

After a while the leader jumps up when a man calls Erica! loudly, and she waved him over. Eddie pauses, looking up.

“I told you girls to be at the entrance,” the man says, scolding them lightly.

“Sorry, Mr Sinclair,” one of the girls says. “We lost track of time.”

Mr Sinclair looks at Eddie sceptically.

“I’m showing them nerdy things aren’t all bad,” Eddie says, holding the book up, and Mr Sinclair just kind of scoffs.

“Alright, I like that you’re kind of reading,” he says to the girls, beckoning for them to get up, “but I need to get you all home, come on now.”

Eddie stands to help them up as a gentleman.

“Ladies,” he says lightly, waving goodbye as they leave, and they all wave back.

He keeps reading until the mall falls quieter, until he hears the sounds of metal being pulled down to block shop entrances, and he looks up when he hears Robin’s voice.

“—just saying I could have added a tally to the You Rule side, but you whiffed it— Oh, hey, Eddie!”

“Hey.”

“And I’m out of here,” she says brightly, moving to walk backwards toward the exit. “Night, fellas.”

“You don’t need a ride?” Steve asks.

“I biked here.”

“But—“

“It’s still light out, Steve, I got it,” she says, exasperated like it’s a daily conversation. “Don’t worry.”

“No detours,” he calls as she gets farther away.

“Do I like a detours kinda gal?”

“Yes,” Steve and Eddie says simultaneously, and she sticks her tongue out at them.

“So,” Steve says when she’s gone, turning to look at Eddie, who quickly averts his eyes from the hem of his shorts. “What’re you still doing here?”

“Uh.” Eddie hesitates. Steve seems to know exactly why he’s still here, based on his grin. “Definitely not… waiting around hoping you’d show up. Or anything like that.”

“Uh-huh.”

“So what’s the You Rule thing?” Eddie questions, ignoring the way his cheeks are flushed with heat.

“Uh. Kind of a long story,” Steve says, hesitating. “I can tell you over dinner.”

Eddie’s chest feels like it might explode.

“I would,” he says. “But I only had a dollar fifteen.”

Steve shrugs.

“Don’t worry ‘bout it,” he says lightly. “‘S on me.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Well, I’m gonna,” Steve says sassily, eyebrows raised. “You can’t stop me.”

“I could just… not go with you.”

“But you wanna come with me,” Steve says, grinning almost smugly. “Don’t you.”

It’s not a question, because he already knows. Eddie wonders if he’s see-through. If Steve can look at him and see right through his skin to the way his heart is beating faster just because Steve’s pretty eyes are on him.

“Dammit,” Eddie mutters, standing and snatching his bag. “Yeah.

Steve laughs, turning away.

“Come on.”

[loveinhawkins]

When Lucas Sinclair starts to apologise for missing The Cult of Vecna, Eddie initially thinks that he’s hearing things.

Well, actually, the first thing he thinks is something along the lines of ‘what the fuck are you talking about?’

It takes him almost a solid thirty seconds to even vaguely remember his campaign; the last day of school before Spring Break feels dreamlike, as if it happened to someone else, as if he just watched everything through a fogged-up window.

“Jesus, Sinclair. I’ve got an ongoing list of folks who owe me an apology since, like, sixth grade, and trust me, your name’s not on there. Can pretty confidently say it never will, okay?”

Eddie sees Steve tilt his head ever so slightly from where he’s walking just ahead of them, like he’s listening in. Spots his faint nod of approval.

Eddie can’t decide if he resents it or finds it endearing—kind of gets the ridiculous feeling that Steve’s vetting him on behalf of the kids.

“Okay,” Lucas says, and he’s smiling, but there’s a sort of sombreness to it, too. “Still, I should’ve—”

“Hey, hindsight’s twenty-twenty,” Eddie says, firmly cutting off whatever self-critical bullshit he was about to hear. He knocks his shoulder against Lucas’s, adds a dry, “Like, I would’ve been a dick about it no matter what.”

Lucas laughs, but it’s muted. Then he takes a deep breath, and Eddie suddenly realises that he must’ve been using the apology to get himself started, to work himself up to what he really wanted to say.

“I’m… I’m sorry about… about Jason and… I thought I’d thrown them all off the trail, but—”

“Oh, don’t—don’t worry about it, man,” Eddie says faintly.

There’s a flash of Jason in his mind’s eye, the savage twist of his lip as he ran into the lake; he thinks of Lucas lying to his face, the danger of him being found out, and feels sick.

“Seriously, you could’ve told them… y’know. Wouldn’t have held it against you.”

Eddie doesn’t mention that him getting caught still feels inevitable, like he’s just waiting for the walls to close in.

But right now, at least, he can breathe a little easier. The shire might be burning, but there’s people leading him through it. He’s not alone.

Lucas looks appalled. “What? No, I couldn’t—I couldn’t do that to you.”

It’s said with such conviction that Eddie has to fight through a sudden tightness in his throat—doesn’t really know what to do in the face of such undeserved loyalty.

He settles on saying, “So, how was the game?” which is embarrassingly inadequate, but a genuine question nevertheless; the past few… Jesus, however long it’s been, he’s been in permanent need of a distraction.

Steve slows his walking pace—to anyone else it might’ve seemed subtle, but Eddie’s used to noticing such things. He somehow gets the feeling that Steve is no longer scrutinising him, not exactly; his posture’s relaxed and open, his forehead free of frown lines.

It’s more like he’s simply curious about Eddie’s behaviour. The way his eyes drift over, then down to the forest floor, then back again silently seems to say what are you thinking?

Or maybe Eddie’s projecting because he asks the very same question whenever a muscle jumps in Steve’s jaw.

“Oh, um…” Lucas says hesitantly. “I was on the bench for most of it, so—”

“Quit being modest.” The quiet whir of a tape being rewound; Max Mayfield comes up to Lucas’s side. “He made the winning shot,” she tells Eddie pointedly. “It was a buzzer-beater.”

“Oh, holy shit. Well done, dude.”

From the way Lucas is staring at Max with wide eyes, it’s obvious that he’s barely registered what Eddie’s said.

“How do you know that?” he asks. “You… you weren’t at the game.”

“I, uh.” Max looks down for a moment, fiddling with the headphones around her neck. “I listened to it on the radio.”

Lucas smiles so brightly. There’s an earnestness to him; Eddie spotted it a mile away, ever since that first day back at school, when all the new freshmen were anxiously lining up to get lunch.

Max softens—her arms are still folded, but she drifts a little closer to Lucas as they walk, all studied casualness.

(Oh, Eddie’s been there before: forced to run track in middle school Phys Ed, and the only saving grace was ‘just so happening’ to run at the same pace as any boy who’d smile at him.)

Eddie catches Steve’s eye, and this time Steve gives him a very deliberate expression, nodding fondly at Max and Lucas.

Look at them, he’s saying with his eyes, as if he and Eddie are on the same team, as if Eddie at all deserves to be let in on whatever shared history Steve has with these kids.

Eddie kicks at a stray twig. You’re not going to get a lump in your throat about this, damn it, don’t be stupid.

“S’gonna be historic, Sinclair,” he says. “Last time the Tigers won a championship was, uh, lemme think… twenty-two years ago.”

Lucas stops in his tracks.

“I know that,” he says, eyes shrewd, “but why do you know?”

Eddie raises his hands with a grin, it wasn’t me, officer. “What, I can’t repeat a few years without retaining a little school knowledge?”

“Oh,” Lucas says, and it’s like Eddie can see him mentally replaying every cafeteria speech. He grins back. “So you’re a hypocrite.”

“Maybe,” Eddie says. He glances further afield, where Dustin is animatedly explaining something to Robin and Nancy. “I know you’re not gonna give me shit for it, though.”

“Huh, guess you don’t really know me,” Lucas says, and Max snorts.

Eddie smirks. “And it’s, like, doubly historic since the last person to score a buzzer-beater was—”

He cuts himself off, because Steve abruptly turns to him, like they’re in alliance, and draws a hand sharply across his neck.

But Lucas is already hooked. “What? Who was it?”

Eddie gives Steve a helpless shrug. Sorry, man.

“I’m looking right at him,” he says.

Lucas rounds on Steve. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because,” Steve says, flustered, “that was your thing, Lucas, I didn’t wanna be all…”

He trails off with a vague hand gesture, and Eddie thinks he somehow gets what he means—smiles at the thoughtfulness of it.

“That makes, like, no sense,” Lucas says vehemently. His eyes practically have stars in them. “Damn it, we shoulda got a photo.”

Steve laughs in surprise. “All right, noted.”

“I mean, Wheeler works for the school paper, right?” Eddie says. “They’ve probably got old issues. Hey, Sinclair, you could have, y’know, side-by-side photos. Yours and then…” He waves a hand at Steve. “Ancient history.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Ancient, sure.”

“Oh, Lucas,” Max says, batting her eyes excessively, “I’d frame a picture of you. Pray to it every night.”

Lucas blushes. “Shut up,” he says, elbowing her gently; Eddie thinks that it’s the first time he’s heard Max Mayfield laugh.

Steve’s watching over them again, and his eyes go pensive when Lucas mumbles something like, “I wouldn’t mind a frame.”

The expression Steve has is something Eddie’s only seen once before, and it was on Wayne’s face. Eddie had privately dubbed it the ‘found something for your birthday’ look when he’d noticed it: him and Wayne on a road trip, Eddie not so secretly mooning over the secondhand acoustic guitar in the shop window.

“Your picture should be bigger, Sinclair,” Steve says, sounding both teasing and sincere. “My shot didn’t win a Championship Game.” In an undertone, he adds, “As Brenda so helpfully reminded me.”

Oh, Eddie’s not letting that go.

“Do mine ears deceive me? Did you take a date to a high school basketball game?” Eddie cackles. “You sure know how to woo ‘em, Harrington.”

“Hey,” Steve says defensively, “she could only make that day. Told her I had non-negotiable plans: it was either the game or it was a bust.”

Huh, Eddie thinks, that’s actually… really sweet.

Lucas looks torn between being embarrassed or touched. “You didn’t need to do that, Steve.”

“Sure I did. C’mon, you thought I was gonna go to every match and then miss the Championship?” Steve’s eyebrows furrow. “Where was Erica, anyway?”

… Ah.

“Mea culpa,” Eddie says. “She was, uh, at Hellfire.”

Lucas scoffs. “It’s fine,” he says. “Last time she was at a game, she kept shouting that she loved my tactics.” He looks out into the middle distance. “I was on the bench the whole time.”

Steve chuckles. “Yeah, I missed her being there.” He’s sporting a smile that’s somehow the perfect balance of fond and mischievous; it, quite frankly, has no business looking as attractive as it does. “We had, um, alternative commentary for every game. That kid should have a radio show.” He comes closer, adds in another aside, “Would’ve made the date more bearable if she was there.”

Eddie stifles a laugh, has a moment of respectful silence for Brenda.

Max and Lucas cut in front, keep walking until they’re almost out of earshot; Eddie hears Lucas faintly say something that sounds like, “Was I totally tubular?”, soon drowned out by Max’s laughter.

There’s a short silence.

“Thanks, Eddie,” Steve says suddenly.

Eddie blinks at him, quickly turns his genuine confusion into a bit. “What for, Harrington? My devastating wit? Devilish good looks?”

Steve shakes his head. He smiles for a moment, in on the joke, but then he looks over at Lucas and Max again, and… there.

A muscle jumps in his jaw.

“It’s just… they’ve got a lot to carry, y’know? So…” He shrugs. “Thanks.”

It’s said so quietly, so without fanfare.

Eddie’s hit with the realisation between one footstep and the next: that he’s earned Steve Harrington’s trust.

It feels… weighty.

But Eddie doesn’t mind it; he doesn’t think it’s going to crush his ribs. If anything it feels like they’re sharing a load.

“Don’t gotta thank me for that, Harrington.”

Steve smiles, pushing back his hair; Eddie’s brought back to the moment he did the very same on the basketball court, just as the ball sunk through the net, and Eddie decided fuck it, wholeheartedly embracing his hypocrisy as he jumped up and down with the band kids.

I cheered so goddamn loud for you, Eddie thinks.

He doesn’t say it.

But he keeps walking next to Steve. Feels a little young, a little bit like he’s running track—checking his pace just so he could see a boy smile at him.

[hairmetal666]

3 Times Eddie has a Secret + 1 Time Steve Does

I.

Erica Sinclair wants to throw a Valentine's Day party, and woe betide anyone coming between Erica and an idea. Eddie's happy to show up, spend some time with the kids, Robin, and Steve (though he's with the latter pair all the time), and mostly doesn't think much about it. That is until, two weeks out, Max shows up at his trailer with that look on her face, and he knows he's in for it, though he's not sure why.

He gives her a little bow. "To what do I owe the pleasure, Max?"

"You're going to Erica's party, Munson." Her hands go to her hips and her brow pinches. It's such a Steve Harrington pose it knocks something loose in Eddie's chest. "And you aren't going to say one word about conformists and sheep."

He rolls his eyes, sighs hard. "I'm surprised at you, Mayfield. Didn't have you pegged as a candy hearts type of gal."

"It's for Erica." The tip of her sneaker scuffs at the earth. "And Lucas likes it."

Eddie bites his lip to stifle his smile. They're so fucking cute.

"I suppose I can put in an appearance."

"And be on your best behavior?"

"Scout's Honor."

"You weren't a scout," she grumbles.

"Nope. But still. I'll do it for Little Sinclair."

It shouldn't bother him, the assumption that he'd be a shit about Valentine's Day. He's worked really hard to cultivate an image and it doesn't exactly scream "Be Mine." And yes, yeah, sure, the Munson Doctrine doesn't go in for the holiday, and his cynical heart blah-blah-blah. It's just that. Well, he sort of enjoys the love part.

And later that night, in the safety of his dark bedroom, he acknowledges that he wouldn't mind having a date on Valentine's Day. It would be--well, it would be nice to have someone buy him flowers or chocolates, or even--ugh--a gross, sappy, sentimental card. He wants to have reservations at Enzo's, wants to go see a terrible romcom after, wants to go home and fall into bed with the person he loves. And it isn't metal, or even very cool, but he wants to be showered with affection, celebrated, fucking loved.

He wants so much his entire body aches with it.

II.

Eddie's at Family Video, rifling through the candy that he knows Steve just reorganized.

"What are you looking for, Munson?" Robin asks. She's half-engrossed in the paperwork in front of her.

Eddie's half listening, watching Steve re-shelve New Releases. He's focused on the VHSs in his arms, so Eddie has ample opportunity to admire the bunch and stretch of his shoulder muscles as he reaches to the top of the wall.

"I don't know," he nibbles on his lip. "Something that's not so," he wiggles his hand through the air.

"Romantic?" She guesses.

"No," he shakes his head. "I mean--"

"You mean?" She's focused on him now, must have caught him watching Steve, and he hopes she doesn't make it a big deal.

"Something," he says. "Um. Just something different."

And what he means is a movie for a guy like him where love doesn't have to be a distant dream. Where he can have feelings for someone and it isn't potentially dangerous.

So, he smiles and shrugs. Grabs the tape closest to his hand. "Guess I'll just take this."

"Well, this is definitely different, Eddie," she says. She narrows her eyes at him, like he's a new language she's learning, but he scampers out before she can say anything.

The movie he grabbed without looking is Cocoon and he can't even pretend interest, so he's not exactly disappointed when someone knocks at his door a few hours later. He's expecting Max, maybe Steve, but startles a little at Robin. She pushes past him and into the trailer.

"Good to see you too, Buckley."

She ignores him. "I have something to tell you. You and Steve are the only people who know."

"Okay?" His eyes are so wide it kind of hurts.

She takes a deep breath. "I'm gay."

"What?" He shrieks, doesn't know why. He's always kind of known.

Robin responds by swatting at him, and they bat at one another with the tips of their fingers.

"Nancy?" He asks once they calm down.

"Shut-up," Robin flushes a dark red.

"It's the guns right?"

It's her turn to shriek, and she gets a solid punch in on his shoulder. They wrestle around, until Eddie pulls away, pushing his hair off his sweaty forehead.

"I'm--" he's never said the words to another person. Uncle Wayne just sort of knew and you don't really have to talk at any of the bars he goes to in Indy. "I'm gay too," he tells Robin.

She beams at him. "Cool."

"Cool." He fiddles with his rings. "Harrington knows about you?"

"He was the first person I told."

"You aren't going to tell him about me?"

She leans her head on his shoulder. "Of course not. But he'd be okay, if you wanted to tell him."

He can't help but scoff. "It's different for lesbians, Buckley. Straight guys can be into that."

She scoffs right back. "Steve isn't like that and you know it."

She's right. He does. But the fear runs deep. Especially especially because it's Steve. And Eddie couldn't handle any of things that might happen if Robin is wrong.

"Thanks, Bucks," he says. He leans his head against hers, hugs her close.

III.

Erica's party is happening at Steve's and Eddie shows up at the appointed time, with the appointed cupcakes (baked from a box, frosted from a can).

The kids are shouting in the living room, but his eyes automatically find Steve in the kitchen. He has a a towel draped over his shoulder, hair disheveled, and is mixing Tropical Punch and Sprite into a serving bowl.

"How'd you end up hosting?" Eddie asks.

Steve smiles, a bashful little thing. "Erica called me this morning and yelled until I agreed."

"Pushover," Eddie teases.

"Oh, and you just made those cupcakes for fun, Munson?"

"Shut-up, Harrington." Eddie knocks their shoulders together. "They're ugly as shit. Didn't know there was an art to frosting cupcakes."

"I think I can help. You mind?"

Steve grabs some plastic spatula looking thing, gets to work with a focused determination that has him biting at his lip. Heat kicks in Eddie's blood, makes it so he can't watch. Instead, he slides a finger into the icing.

"Hey! What--? Munson!" Steve yells, as Eddie brushes the pink frosting onto Steve's cheekbone.

"Got ya!" He dances out of reach.

They bob and weave and dodge through the kitchen, laughing and yelling, until Steve has Eddie pressed against the cabinets, no escape. They're close, breathing hard and pink-faced. He can't help glancing down at the plush softness of Steve's mouth, can't help noticing Steve's eyes track the movement. Time pauses, stutters, and the distance between them closes.

"Steve!" Dustin shouts. "What's taking so long?"

The tension breaks and Eddie escapes into the living room, desperate to convince himself it wasn't a moment, that Steve isn't interested. Wishes his heart was a little more cynical, after all.

The party is fun. There are games and snacks and crafts. He gets roped into playing Mystery Date and tries and fails to not notice Steve bent over, playing Twister, left hand on red, right hand on green.

When they start doing crafts, Steve is hard at work on a Valentine.

"What you making, Stevie?" Eddie asks. He cranes his neck to see.

"Back off, Munson."

"Got someone you've been admiring, big boy?"

Steve goes pink and Eddie can't tell if it's the nickname or his question.

"Wouldn't you like to know?"

And since Eddie really, really would, he jumps towards Steve, trying to sneak a peek. Steve laughs, hard and kind of surprised, before hunching over the card.

"None of your business, Eddie." But Steve is flushed and smiling.

Eddie pouts. "You know how much I love knowing things."

Steve looks at him. Like, looks at him, and Eddie goes warm all over.

"Maybe if you're a good boy today, you'll get to know later, yeah?"

Good boy does things. It makes Eddie's heart stop, his breathing slow, re-routes all the blood in his body south. He can only gasp and nod, sure his eyes are weirdly glazed.

Good boy. He's not sure if he hears another word spoken to him for the rest of the day.

IV.

The party draws to a close. For once in their lives, the actual parents are driving their kids around and Robin hitches a ride with the Hopper-Byers, leaving Eddie and Steve on clean-up.

"Wanna stick around, Munson? Watch a movie? Think I have a joint leftover from last week."

"Course, Stevie, how could I say no to such a generous offer."

"I think you're making fun of me, but I don't understand why."

Eddie laughs. "Totally genuine, sweetheart. Cross my heart." Steve smiles at that, his eyes turning the color of honey.

Eddie is so, so fucked.

They get situated on the couch and Steve says, "Have you been good today?"

"Huh?" Eddie can't breathe.

"I said you could see what I was making if you were good today. Were you?"

Eddie can't speak, can't think, can't move. His brain is throbbing. This has to be a dream. No way Steve is actually asking that.

But Steve is looking at him and somehow he has the presence of mind to fucking nod, and then Steve is handing him a red construction paper heart and a rose with petals so purple they're almost black.

He's hallucinating. That's what this is. He got some laced weed and now his wildest fantasy is playing out in his head.

The Valentine has a white lace doily thing glued to it and it says, in glitter:

"Roses are red,

Violets are Blue;

Eddie Munson,

I really like you"

His eyes fall on Steve. He perceives him, the way a pink flush sits high on his cheekbones, the shine in his eyes, the tremble in his hands.

Oh shit. Oh shit. Eddie isn't hallucinating. He's not dreaming. He's--

"Steve," he sounds a wreck.

"It's--Eddie, it's okay if you don't like me back. I just--I've liked you for a while and Robin thought I should tell you, and--"

"Steve," he says again, stands this time. "Can I kiss you?" It's a miracle he gets the words out.

"God, yes, please," Steve nearly whines.

Eddie pulls him in close, slotting their mouths together. Steve tastes like Tropical Punch and frosting and he makes a little noise as Eddie nips at his lip.

And that's it, that's all it takes. Eddie is gone, ruined, Valentine's celebrator until the end of time, lost forever to Steve-goddamn-Harrington.

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

After Vecna, Steve made sure that everyone was alright. . .completely forgetting to take care of himself, of course. Erica Sinclair did not forget, and she was determined to get him into a hospital bed even if she had to bully him to do it.

"Hey, Harrington! Didn't you also get used up like a chew toy?!" Erica exclaimed as he hovered over Eddie's bed.

"Yes, but I'm fine," Steve scoffed.

"Yeah, if you're so fine, then stand up, chump," Erica said, and Eddie snickered.

Steve scowled and stood up, his legs wobbling. He tried to hide the fact that he was wincing, but Erica wasn't an idiot. It hurt to stand up, and it hurt to continue to do so. Steve sighed as he collapsed back into his seat.

"Why do you care so much?" Steve asked, laughing it off, but underneath it all, he was curious.

"I do not want to hear Lucas or any other members of the party bitching and crying because you died looking out for everyone except yourself! You're our paladin, our protector, our brother in arms. You're just as important as everyone else in the group, even if you don't believe it. It'd be pretty fucked up if you died of an itty bitty infection after everything we've been through. So, suck it up and get yourself looked after. Got me? I do not want to lose a brother," Erica said as her chin wobbled.

She was a strong headed young girl with a loud mouth. Sometimes, they forgot just how young she was until this moment when her eyes filled with tears and her lip trembled. Erica tried to hold it in, but there was only so much trauma that she could take, and she started to cry. Her body shook with sobs, and she flinched when she felt arms wrap around her, holding her tightly.

"Okay, I'll go see a doctor. I will be fine," Steve said softly, sniffling.

"You better. Are you crying? Weak," Erica said with a scoff, and Steve laughed.

Steve placed a quick kiss to the top of her head before hurrying out of the room before she could hit him. Erica, wiping her eyes, turned to find Eddie sobbing quietly in bed.

"Seriously? You too, huh?"

"It would be pretty heartless of me not to cry at that. I can't believe that you managed to do what I couldn't," Eddie said with a pout.

"Yeah, well, I don't have your pretty dumbass bambi eyes for him to drool over," Erica replied.

"I am both offended and flattered."

[rottenaero]

CW: Injuries, talk of death

Roommates part 8

Ao3(More content, but is a chapter behind)

Part 1

Part 7

The walk to the Wheelers takes what could’ve been hours, but only felt like minutes. Steve couldn’t recall much of what happened during it, the tripping, the talk with Eddie, yeah, sure.

But nothing much after that stands out. The ground doesn’t shake again. The lightning is surprisingly tame. His sides hurt like hell but that’s not surprising.

He has to lean into Eddie to keep his balance while Nancy opens the front door. When is creaks open and he goes to walk in, the bites scream at him,

He sucks on his teeth as the wound throbs, and his hand tightens around his flashlight.

“You good, man?”

Steve looks up and meets Eddie’s eyes, “Yeah, fan-freaking-tastic. Ten out of ten, no complaints.”

The metalhead shakes his head, “Seriously, I need to know if we need to grab some medical stuff while we’re here. Not like I know how to use it, but…” He trails off, before offering his hand.

“I’ll be fine, let’s just focus on getting the guns.” He grabs his wrist for a second, just to give a reassuring squeeze before walking inside, ignoring the burning heat that lay underneath the bandages.

Eddie follows behind him, muttering something about just take the damn hand, and he tilts his head his way to give a glare.

Eddie’s palms immediately raise up, “I didn’t say anything. Did you say something? I didn’t hear anything.” He laughs-awkwardly, before jogging to where Nancy was standing by the stairs.

“Might be time to get a maid, Wheeler.” Robin breathed, glancing around. Steve took notice of the way she swayed to Nancy’s side.

“Let’s just go, I don’t want to be here longer than we have to be.” The brunette mutters, before jogging up the steps. Eddie and Robin followed almost immediately, and Steve planned to too,

Except right after the third step he heard something. A voice.

He couldn’t make out what it was saying, but he had no doubt it was Dustin. Even the echoey way it resounded couldn’t shake that underlying tone he always had.

He walks back down. “Dustin?” He tries. It comes out quiet in the large house. He tries again. And again. A little louder and louder each time.

Finally, he says fuck it.

“Dustin?!?” Steve yelps, looking around. He can still hear him. “Dustin!”

He turns wildly, the voice is moving, like he’s pacing. “Dustin can you hear me?! Dustin!”

“Dus-Hello?? He- Hello?!”

“Maybe he does have rabies.” He barely hears it, thinks he imagines it, then Nancy’s calling his name.

“Steve, what are you doing?”

He whips his head around, along with his flashlight, which causes a yelp from Robin.

“He’s here,” He starts, breathless, “Henderson, that little shit. He’s here, he’s like- In the walls. Just listen-“

There’s silence.

“Dustin?”

“Dustin!! Dustin, Dustin? DUSTIN!! Can you hear me?!” He screams, and finally the sound reverberates.

A few seconds later he can hear it again, the voice,

The voice that is, again, undeniably Dustin’s. By the way Eddie’s face lights up he can tell it’s not just him hearing it.

Then it’s Nancy’s turn to start yelling his name, as she starts moving around.

Steve follows Eddie to a set of curtains as he pulled them open, which, did he really think he’d be there. “Alright, either this kid can’t hear us or he’s being a total douchebag.”

Eddie nods, “Oh yeah, wouldn’t put it past him to ignore us cause he thinks he’s funny.”

“Will found a way.”

“What?”

She’s quick to move around, trying to click on a lamp. “Will, he found a way to speak with Joyce through the lights.”

“Lights…Switch, try the switch.”

Nancy huffs, “It’s not working.” She tries a couple more times, and Steve turns away, pointing his flashlight around before it settles on the giant ceiling light.

Which is glowing, some sort of glittery haze around it. “Guys, you seeing this?”

He barely hears it when Nancy approaches the light, too fixated on the way it looks, how there was an air of warmth around it. She puts her hand into it, and specks of white and orange dance around her fingertips.

“Woah.”

Every time Steve completed another round on the pedal, his side would flare up.

Which means, his side flared up quite a few times on the way to Eddie’s trailer. It was like a warning, every time the chain against the wheel clicked. His eyes glazed and he could barely make out the road ahead of him, just following the dark figures moving ahead. Autopilot mode.

He went on it a lot, usually at work, washing dishes, cooking, he’d zone out.

It was perfect for the moments that he was overwhelmed, the world would fizzle out. Sometimes he did it when he was bored, just to make time pass that bit faster.

He shouldn’t be doing it. Not here, not in a place when any second a demo-dog could come,

And was the clicking his bike or was it the noises it makes as it circles in?

It’s warning.

A conversation.

He’s weak right now, they’d head for him first, they’d be fine. The guys would be fine.

He whistled, three short ones, just in case. The blurs ahead of him take a sharp right, and when he attempts to follow, his hand slips right off the handlebar.

When did they become slick with sweat?

With Steve’s momentary confusion, he doesn’t notice the bike tilting, how he’s still pedaling on autopilot.

It falls, he slides.

His left-hand goes forward, a sad attempt to block the fall.

He doesn’t register the crunch, or the gravel skimming his palm.

He registers his side ripping open further.

The white-hot. The grating scream he fights to keep in. The blood seeping out of it.

He looks up. His eyes are still blurry, why are they still blurry? Is he crying? Not here, not now.

He looks up, and sees it.

See’s the thing that keeps him up at night. The reason why he bought a new clock that doesn’t tick for the trailer.

A demo-dog, or rather three, are staring at him from the woods. Their flower petal mouths are shut, for now. One points its head into the air, it’s slow, like a dog smelling something.

The bites tinge, and it looks directly at him, letting out a chittering noise.

Blood attracts demogorgons.

Steve shuffles, grabs his bike with the hand that he didn’t fall onto, and jumps on.

The blurs ahead haven’t noticed his fall yet.

He’s bleeding.

They’re still pedaling.

There are more clicks, from behind him, the beasts.

No one would notice.

There’s the padding of footfalls on the edge of gravel some ways back.

He can’t help it.

Steve turns the bike around with his right-hand, and pedals away.

There are no shouts of his name. He thankful.

They haven’t noticed.

There’s clicking though,

And it’s different from the one on his bike, and he’s reminded of two years in the bus. The noises the beasts made as they circled in.

Low, guttural, predatory noises.

It’s behind him but it feels like it’s everywhere.

This time, he’s not on autopilot.

Hard to be when you could be caught, torn apart at any moment.

Although,

He’s already being torn apart.

The skin under his bandages stretches and suddenly they aren’t just under his bandages cause they’re ripping open further.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

He gasps for air, and he can’t get enough, even when it feels like his lungs are about to burst.

And is this how he’s gonna die?

Steve Harrington, the badass babysitter, the brute force, the tank, dying because he couldn’t pedal a bike fast enough after falling off.

Would this be a hero's death? Because honestly, they didn’t even know he saved them.

The road cuts off to a neighborhood he knows only has one exit, and he takes a sharp turn off the side of the road.

There’s a bike path down this way, one that years ago, he used to ride along with Tommy. He cuts through the woods.

There’s screeching being him, and he’s sure that the pomegranate red mouths have opened. That it’s too late to hope. “Fuck.” Steve mutters.

It’s at that moment he goes over a particularly large bump, and the bike goes flying.

He’s not holding on tight enough, not with one hand.

It doesn’t land right, and now he’s back on the ground. THe creatures slow in front of him.

“Fuck!” He lets out, louder this time, and he inches away. He tries to use his left arm as momentum, but it doesn’t move.

The crack, the break.

He’s gonna die.

Please, I just told Eddie.

What will they think?

That he ran away?

‘Just like you always do, Harrington!’

How much of his life before the upside down had been spent running?

From his parents, the fact that he was a massive douche, away from who he is?

Is he crawling backwards?

Just like when he was born.

One of the demo-dogs gets tired of waiting, and sprints forward.

Eddie was a bike kid before he got his van. He loved them. Always riding around town when he was younger, anything to get away from Al. He liked how it felt when the wind blew against him.

It was easy to get lost in the familiar feeling of pedaling, easy to forget where he was, or that there were people around him.

He just biked to his trailer. Just like he had done those days after school in fifth grade, when his dad was out.

Him and Wayne would sit together on the couch and listen to whatever records he had, mostly Elvis Presley and John Lee Hooker.

Wayne, who probably thought he was serial killer.

“Christ…” Eddie muttered to himself, and slid to a stop at the trailer came into a view. He heard a few tire squeals and he grinned.“Alright Stevie, let’s get back to our world.” He turned his head back to get a look at him,

And his heart stopped.

“Where’s Steve?”

Nancy glances behind her, and her eyes widen. “He was- He was following us, he definitely was.”

Eddie turns to Robin, brows furrowed. “ You were in the back with him for a bit.”

Her hands were shaking, and she staring at the ground. Like she had seen a ghost. “You don’t think something took him, like Barbara?”

“Holland?” He asked, even though he knew exactly who she was talking about cause there was only one Barbara. “What? Of course not, he’s a fighter, so we would’ve heard it, right?”

Except,

Eddie couldn’t have heard it. He was too far ahead, daydreaming. And with the lightning starting back every two seconds it was hard to hear much.

Nancy gasps, “Blood.”

“What?”

“Blood.” She repeats, turning pale, or at-least, he thinks she did, it was hard to tell with the light.

“The demo-creatures love it, and if he’s bleeding through the bandages-“

“They would’ve smelt it…” Eddie murmurs. He feel goosebumps rise on his skin. “The bike, the peddling, would’ve made it worse, and- Shit-!” He’s about to hop on his bike when Nancy grabs the handlebars.

She looks contemplative, “He knows the way to your place. Maybe they… Maybe the chased him and he’s gonna lay low. He’s smart, he’ll be okay.”

“Yeah…” Robin nods, “Yeah, he’ll be, he’ll be fine.” She huffs, and walks into the trailer. Eddie is more skeptical.

“He could still be hurt! We biked far.”

Nancy ignores him, and follows Robin.

“At what point could he have left us? Was it early on? What if he got caught-“

“Eddie, he’ll be okay. We need to go.” She hisses, and grabs his wrist, dragging him inside.

He bites his lip, “Fucking, fine.”

He looks up to where the entrance to the real world is, to see something poking through it. The elastic webbing or whatever was covering it snapped, and drips down.

And there’s the kids.

And Dustin who is smiling triumphantly. “Hi.”

Eddie waves his fingers, “Hey man.”

They get through the gate with the help of Dustin’s rope. He eyes them all suspiciously when they’re through.

“Where’s Steve?” He asks.

Nancy shifts uncomfortably, Eddie glances to the ground.

Robin lets out a sniff, “He’s, uh. When we were biking, he ran off. We didn’t see it, don’t know what happened.”

Erica moves forward, “What?”

Nancy crosses her arms, “He was bleeding, before he left. Not a nosebleed but, if one of the demogorgons or something caught a whiff…” She trails off, and Dustin glares at her.

“That bastard left so you wouldn’t get hurt.”

She nods.

“And why was he bleeding?!”

“There were these- these fucking bat things. They dragged him through the water portal and used him as a chew toy.” Eddie’s voice is wobbly, and he doesn’t realize until the words are out.

He’d just gotten the guy,

And now the guy has disappeared to who knows where.

The guy could be dead.

“Fuck.” He whispers to himself, and rubs incessantly at his eye. He can’t cry right now, not in-front of Dustin.

But Steve had left.

He’d left them so they wouldn’t have to face whatever was chasing him.

“Eddie, you okay?”

He couldn’t be dead, surely not, he’d lived through this how many times? Not this time.

No way.

“Eddie?” Lucas asks again. He looks up. “Yeah?”

“Are you okay?”

“Oh shit! That’s right! You two are dating!” Dustin yelps, and Eddie flushes, “You aren’t supposed to know that yet.” He hisses.

Robin’s eyes widened, “Whoa, when did this happen. I mean, I know he’s liked you, for like, ever, but is this recent or has he been lying?”

“They’re dating?” Lucas looks astonished as he stares at Eddie. Erica huffs, “Obviously, you weren’t sitting by them during the basketball game. Anyways, this is not what we should be concerned about.”

“Right, yeah.” Lucas starts, “Are we gonna sit here and wait?”

Eddie is quick to nod. “Yeah, definitely. Plus it’s easier to keep an eye on red.” He says.

“Speaking of, how are you doing?” He turns his head to her.

She’s pale, and her music isn’t playing anymore. “Shit!” Lucas is quick to grab for the walk-men, but she shoves his arm away. “Turn it back on, we can’t repeat what happened before.” He scolds.

She doesn’t listen, in fact she takes the headphones off around her neck.

“I don’t-“ She starts, before pausing to breathe. “I don’t, like, feel him anymore.”

“That’s great!” Lucas shouts, before wincing, “Right, not supposed to shout in a wanted mans house.”

She shakes her head, and looks to Eddie.

“Before this all, did you notice any signs, in Steve, I mean.”

What?

“What do you mean?”

“Headaches, nightmares, nosebleeds.”

He thinks back.

And yeah.

Yeah, okay.

He sees where she’s coming from.

It would make sense, why nobody heard it, cause by the times his bones would have snapped they would’ve been too far ahead.

But that’s not what happened.

Because Steve’s alive. Because he would’ve told them if he was worried. He would’ve at-least told Robin.

“How long ago did yours start?” He asks.

“After Billy died, just before school started again and I started seeing Ms. Kelly.” She states, twirling the cord of her head phones nervously.

He nods, “His shouldn’t be Vecna related them, he’s had them since he lived with me, a result of the concussions. For the nosebleeds, he said he’s broken it a couple times, and nightmares?”

Eddie shrugs, “I don’t blame him for the shit you guys had to go through.”

“If you’re sure.” Nancy mutters.

“I am, Steve’s not stupid. He may not want Wayne and I worrying, but if he was truly worried about something, he woulda told us.” He states.

“Especially if he thought he’d die, he’d say goodbye first.”

She nods, tilting her head to face the floor, causing her brown curls to hid her face like a shield. “Got it.”

Robins at her side in less than a second, bumping their hips together.

“Hey, the dingus’ll be fine. He’s made it this long being a super awesome monster-fighter.”

“Alright,” Nancy huffs. She seems put at ease by Robin. Her posture relaxes, and she shifts closer. “If you say so.”

Oh,

Steve would love this when he comes back.

Max interrupts the sweet moment. “Okay, but still. I’m sure even if you had the effects before, you could still be affected. The thing that sets the events set in stone is the visions.”

She turns to Eddie.

“He ever zone out? In this past day, at-least.”

“He used to, cooking and shit, not today though, as far as I know. Look why are you-“ He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Stevie is fine, maybe it’s just a freak occurrence that you don’t feel this guy anymore.”

Her brows furrow. She glares at him. “I don’t like the idea that he’s been killed either, but I’m just trying to bring up a what-if.”

“Whatever.” He mutters, and crosses his arms. “But there is no way in hell that’s what happened, he would’ve told us.”

“Or maybe he wouldn’t have.” She snaps.

“Maybe he ran away so we didn’t have to see him die. He’s always been the backbone. He brushes off our worries and hate when people show concern for him!”

“Shut up!” Dustin yells, and all eyes turn to him.

“Be quie-“ Lucas starts, but he's cut off.

“Steve isn’t fucking dead, he’ll be back. He can’t be dead.” His voice is wobbly, and his eyes are misty. Eddie almost reaches out an arm. Max scoffs and leans back, and he realizes that her eyes are wet too.

And Eddie forgot. Forgot that she almost died yesterday, that she knew Steve too. She’s trying not to get her hopes up.

Eddie wishes he could do that.

Act like he doesn’t care.

But he can’t.

Not when he cares so goddamn much.

Because Steve’s alive, and she’s acting like he isn’t. That he won’t be coming through that portal anytime soon.

He can’t deal with it.

He wasn’t gonna make this hour or two they wait for Steve anymore unbearable than it has to be.

He can’t deal with her theorizing right now.

He can’t deal with the fact Dustin is stifling tears by pinching his sides.

Or Luca’s worries that Max should keep the headphones on just in case,

The way that Robin and Nancy are looking at him,

Eddie stands up, “Come get me when he comes through. Need a minute.” He passes the kitchen on the way to his room, and his eyes pass over a note on the fridge.

‘Eddie, do your own chores.

Steve, make sure he does his part.

-Wayne.’

Eddie slams the door to his room shut behind him.

He needs to do something to occupy himself.

He catches sight of one of Steve’s Swim-Club T-Shirts in his closet and snatch it.

“Shower seems like a pretty good idea.”

-

I thought the last chapter would be the longest at 2k words, but this ended up being like 3,500 so…

[strangersteddierthings]

Daily Ficlet 4

I'm challenging myself to write a little ficlet every day, using the prompts from this list. Today's prompt is jukebox.

-

Steve's oh moment comes to him at The Hideout of all places. Dingy, dirty, with a bartender who served Will Byers a drink without so much as pretending to contemplate if he should or not.

The point Steve is making is he's just realized he might be a lot in love with Eddie and that it's not exactly the most romantic of settings. They're all here because they came to watch Corroded Coffins first gig since before... well, since Before.

Before Vecna. Before spring break. Before Steve was even aware of his attraction to guys.

A lot of Before that led them to this now. This oh.

It wasn't watching Eddie in his element, up on the stage. Seeing that for the first time was actually a Before thing, too. Steve's been to The Hideout before. The same bartender served Steve a beer back when he was a sophomore and Tommy H had heard the rumor that they didn't card here. The first time he'd watched Eddie Munson in his element had been shortly after his graduation, coming here to pretend he wasn't as alone as he felt as he drank a beer or two.

Watching Eddie on the stage knowing he has a crush on him certainly made the show better but didn't push him from crush to in love.

It also wasn't after, watching Eddie and Robin have a silent conversation of only gestures and eyebrows and pointed looks, though it did make Steve rush with adoration for them both. Knowing that Eddie and Robin got a long so well, cared to each other, made something settle inside Steve's bones. Steve hasn't been serious with anyone since Starcourt, and he's aware enough to know it's because he can't explain his codependency to Robin to anyone. Not with the truth, or in a way they're understand. He wouldn't need to do that with Eddie.

It wasn't that Eddie had then come checked on him, either. Asking if the place was too loud, and how Steve's head was doing. Steve had just recovered from a migraine and Eddie was worried about this bringing it back. It hadn't. The ear plugs were great. And Eddie beamed at him.

No. None of those were the oh, though they were all reason enough.

No, the oh was this.

Watching Eddie 'metalhead' Munson teach Will, El, Dustin, Lucas and Erica how to square dance. He'd tried to coax Mike onto the floor but that wasn't happening, and Max couldn't with her crutches still, but she'd promised to learn from Lucas once she was on the mend.

Eddie had pilfered most of Steve's quarters and slid them into the jukebox, picking the same country song 5 times in a row for the kids to practice to. "Just to wait, Stevie. These kids'll be winning square dancing trophies when I'm done."

Steve had laughed, sipping on his beer as Eddie danced his way to the jukebox.

And here, on the fifth song, watching Eddie improvise some swing dancing into their established routine with Erica being easily twirled about, trying to glare at Eddie for picking her but also doing nothing to stop him from throwing her around the dance floor, Steve thinks oh.

Oh. I love him.

He stands and heads to the jukebox, and queues up the same song once more, then turns to the group. "Alright Munson, teach me, too!"

Dustin whoops, Erica slips back into her place in line, and Eddie beams at him, hand outstretched and waiting.

[withacapitalp]

The Only Exception Pt 1

Happy Valentine's @riality-check !!!!! I was so psyched to be your Valentine committing Valencrimes and I hope you love it!!!

Read the first chapter on ao3 here!

There really wasn’t anything in the world that felt as good as kissing Eddie. 

Steve prided himself on being a good kisser. He was attractive for a lot of reasons, and one of them was that he knew how to kiss. He had never had a problem getting girls to melt into his lap or quietly beg for more in soft breathy moans. 

It was wild to be on the other side of that.  

Eddie just had this way about him. It wasn’t that he was the most amazing kisser Steve had ever been with, but there was just this energy that he had that made Steve weak in the knees and fuzzy in the brain. It was like everything he did was electric, and all Steve could do was surrender. 

But everything about Eddie was like that. 

All of the mundane things that Steve liked about relationships just felt better. Holding hands was warmer, sharing a bucket of popcorn at the movies tasted better, even driving around in the middle of the night was more peaceful. Steve adored everything about Eddie, everything about the relationship they had built 

In fact, Eddie Munson was probably the love of Steve’s life. 

There was just one little problem…

“The boys are here!” Eddie immediately gasped when there was a knock at the door, breaking their kiss and practically throwing Steve off of him as he went flying out of the room. Steve hung back, lying down flat and staring up at the ceiling, trying to will away both his boner and his irrational disappointment. 

The problem was that Eddie Munson didn’t seem to have a single romantic bone in his body. 

It wasn’t that he didn’t love Steve. Eddie practically worshipped Steve, and he made sure his boyfriend knew it too. They were always together, always touching, always falling asleep in one bed tangled up in each other. There were times when Eddie would just hold his face in both hands and look at Steve like he was everything the world had to offer. Steve had never doubted that devotion. 

But they didn’t have romance. 

Part of that was probably the fact that they had fallen into a relationship almost purely by accident. Steve and Eddie hadn’t had some long drawn out courtship, or big confession in the pouring rain. At times it almost felt like one day they had gone from best friends to dating without ever really saying anything. One day they were Steve and Eddie, and the next they were SteveandEddie. 

It just turned out that holding hands wasn’t a joke to mess with the kids anymore, but just the natural thing to do when they walked anywhere. It went from Wayne teasing Eddie for keeping Steve like a stray, to calling him son and saying that he can stay as long as he liked. 

It was nice. Steve had always done things in a really formal routine way. When he decided that he liked a girl, he followed steps. Do stuff to get her to notice, make the first move, take her on dates, maybe sleep together, and break up eventually. 

This was different. It was warm, easy, a slow unexpected slide into love that began with Eddie softly kissing him goodnight without any fear that Steve would reject that kiss. They went into it already knowing they were in love. 

And because of that, there wasn’t really a need for over the top gestures or grand speeches about undying affection. They had done all that before dating, when Steve brought Eddie back from the dead, and then when Eddie taught Steve how to live. After all of the drama, it was nice to have something that was peaceful. Steve didn’t want anything insane or theatrical. 

Okay, maybe he wanted it. 

Just a teeny tiny version of it. He wanted pulled out chairs at a candlelit dinner and a dozen roses ‘anonymously’ delivered to his workplace. He wanted little gestures that would make his heart flutter, little ways he could flaunt how wonderful his partner was. 

Steve was dating his best friend, and that was great, but sometimes he wanted to be dating his boyfriend, and he had no idea how to explain the difference to Eddie. 

“Steeeeeeeve! Come save me from our children!” Eddie’s voice called from the living room, pulling Steve out of his funk and back into action. He hefted himself out of the bed and down the hallway, stopping in the doorway of the living room and looking down at the pile on the floor with far too much fondness. 

Somehow all of the boys had ended up wrestling Eddie to the ground in the thirty seconds that they had been here, and now they were lying all over him, giggling like loons. It warmed Steve’s heart to see them just getting to be kids, and he loved the goofy smiles on all of their faces. 

No one he had dated before had ever understood his relationship with the kids, and it had always been a point of contention. Eddie embraced his ‘single mother’ status with gusto, and even the kids he didn’t already know had quickly begun to consider Eddie another one of their ‘parents’. 

See? Steve told himself, This is the kind of thing you never got with anyone else. Romance never gave you this. 

He loved this. This was perfect. There was no need to want more. 

……he still wanted more. 

“Alright brats, let your other father go,” Steve said with a laugh, gently kicking the part of the pile he was closest to. The boys untangled themselves from Eddie, leaving him starfished out on the floor dramatically gasping for air. 

“You’re not our dads,” Mike grumbled, just because he had to for appearances. Steve rolled his eyes and walked past them all, leaning down and holding out a hand to his boyfriend. 

“What are you even still doing here?” Dustin demanded in that oh so bratty tone of his, “It’s Hellfire night,” 

“Nice to see you too Dustybun,” Steve snarked back, helping Eddie up and giving him a soft kiss on the cheek, “Just saying goodbye.”

Eddie wound his arms around Steve’s middle, knocking their foreheads together and dipping Steve backwards till they were both stumbling to catch each other.  

“I like it better when you guys aren’t romantic,” Dustin said with a groan, the other boys instantly agreeing. Steve sighed and pulled away from Eddie, trying to ignore the way the words dug in between his ribs. 

Was that romantic? It was just a kiss on the cheek and a hug. That didn’t really feel like the pinnacle of romantic gestures, but maybe his standards were just too damn high. Maybe he was too lost in what romance was ‘supposed’ to look like. Maybe things were different when it was two guys. 

Maybe he was overthinking things.

“Guess we’ll have to get used to it seeing as Valentine’s is around the corner,” Will said with a shrug, completely unaware of Steve’s inner struggles. 

“Shoot. I gotta figure out what to get Max,” Lucas said, rubbing the top of his head in a slightly theatrical way. 

“You don’t know yet?” Dustin asked incredulously, shaking his head, “Dude, you’re asking to get dumped. Again.” 

Lucas flipped him off with ease, turning to Steve and Eddie with a frantic look. 

“Eddie? Help?” He practically begged, clasping his hands together. Steve opened his mouth to say something snarky about Lucas choosing to ask Eddie instead of him, but Eddie managed to speak first. 

“You’ll have to ask someone else. I hate Valentine's Day,” Eddie stated, stopping all thoughts in their tracks.  

“What?” Steve blurted out, turning to Eddie with an affronted look, “How do you hate Valentine’s?”

“It’s a fake holiday!” Eddie said with a laugh, staring down at Steve like he was amazed Steve didn’t already know that. 

“All holidays are fake holidays,” Steve argued back, unsure of why he was holding so tight to this. It wasn’t like Valentine’s was his favorite holiday in the world, but it felt significant now, important when combined with the already there problem in their relationship. 

No romance and no Valentine’s? They were going to be glorified roommates by the end of the year at this rate. 

“Other holidays have some reason for existing. Even April Fool’s has some history to it,” Eddie started, untangling from Steve and beginning to pace as he ranted, “Valentine’s is completely made up and totally cliche. There isn’t any reason it exists besides capitalism and societal pressure. Basically it’s just a stupid excuse for stores to jack up prices on chocolate and for couples to measure the worth of their partner in dollars and nickels.”

Normally Steve loved Eddie’s little speeches against society and conformity. Loved them, or tolerated them, at least. He liked how passionate his partner was, how much Eddie cared about everything. 

This one just left him feeling kind of hollow.

“Didn’t know you hated it so much,” Steve muttered, hating how transparent he was about how upsetting his boyfriend’s words were. 

“Hey you knew what you were signing on for. It’s my sworn duty to hate anything that the man supports,” Eddie said, coming back over and swooping down to press tons of tiny kisses to Steve’s cheeks till he was smiling again. 

“Besides, who needs all that fake bull?” Eddie sighed, shifting and wrapping his arms around Steve from behind, resting his chin on Steve’s shoulder, “We get along just fine without having to pretend and do all that unnecessary crap, don’t we Sunshine?”

“Whatever you say,” Steve said, shaking his head. He didn’t really want to get into it when he already was so unsure of what was upsetting him. Besides, Eddie loved being able to say he was right. 

Sure enough his boyfriend started to preen the second he heard Steve’s words, giving him another kiss and bouncing away towards the dining room of the new house. 

“Goodbye, my darling prince! I hate to see you leave, but oh do I love to watch you go,” Eddie declared poking his head out from the doorway to the dining room and waggling his eyebrows as the boys groaned and declared that they were the ‘grossest’ couple ever. 

“You’re such a goofball,” Steve chuckled, waving as he began to walk out, “Have fun,”

“See ya later, Babes!” Eddie called out behind him, making the cool night air just a little bit warmer as it hit Steve’s cheeks. 

Eddie and Wayne’s new house was in a nice neighborhood. Not exactly Loch Nora, but not far from it. The government’s way of saying ‘sorry we let you take the blame for all of this and almost get killed by an angry mob’. It was a pretty little one story cottage with a treehouse and everything. 

And the best part was, it was right across the street from Max’s new house. 

“Sorry I’m late,” Steve said as he walked in the door, already hearing the sound of a movie playing on the TV and the smell of burnt popcorn hanging in the air. 

“Let me guess…you were with Eddie,” Erica said as the girls came into the foyer, crossing her arms and giving Steve an up and down look. He opened his mouth and she clicked her tongue, “And don’t try and say you weren’t, cause we just watched you walk over from his house.”

Steve huffed out a soft laugh, toeing off his shoes and walking into the living room.

“I wasn’t planning to say I wasn’t,” Steve said, sitting down on the couch, “Just that I’m sorry I lost track of time,” 

All three girls gave him scrutinizing looks, sharing glances with each other. Steve waited patiently for them to decide his fate, grabbing one of the less burned pieces of popcorn and tossing it into his mouth, checking out the movie they had chosen. 

Desperately Seeking Susan. 

He was really going to have to start talking to them about their Madonna obsession. It was getting concerning. 

“We will forgive you if you do our hair” El finally said, jutting out her chin as if she was daring Steve to say no. He crossed his legs and pulled his ankles close, pushing the coffee table forward to give her enough room to scoot in between the two pieces. 

“Get over here, Supergirl,” Steve said in lieu of agreeing. She eagerly flew down into the free space and Max scurried off to get her supplies. 

The girls were good at making things up on the fly when they wanted to mess around with their hair, but they wanted to make their hair look like the pop idols they saw in the magazines. El had come to him with puppy eyes and a cut out picture of Madonna a week ago, begging without words for assistance. 

So here he was with teasing combs, scrunchies, a full slew of hair care products, and a head full of advice from Mrs. Sinclair on how to do Erica’s hair. Mrs. Sinclair had been pretty unsure about Steve’s intentions when he first came to her to ask for help, but his eagerness had been enough to melt the icy wall around her, and he had won a full set of instructions on the best way to braid Erica’s hair, which he had studiously read over and over until he was sure he had it down. 

But as much as Steve loved spending time with the girls, it was obvious to everyone in the room that he was still distracted. Eddie’s words from before were the only thing he could focus on, which meant his normally stellar hair styling skills were leaving something to be desired. 

“Oh geez, sorry El,” Steve apologized as he pulled on her hair hard enough to make her yelp. 

She floated the hairbrush out of his hand and gave him a low level glare. He held out his hand, and she smartly rapped him on his palm with it once before handing the brush back and settling back into place. 

“Awww is your mind still stuck on Eddieeeeee?” Max teased, getting in Steve’s space and making the other two girls laugh and trade silly smirks. Steve’s barely recovered mood instantly soured.

“No,” He answered shortly, turning all his attention to the short curls in front of him, brushing through them with brusque efficiency 

“What’s got your panties in a twist?” El muttered, once again making the brush float out of his reach.

“El!” Steve said scandalized. He turned to Max and shot her a look, practically wagging a finger at her. 

“Don’t teach her phrases like that,” He ordered. 

“Why? She’s right. They are twisted,” Erica pointed out. 

“Erica,” Steve groaned. He tipped his head back and closed his eyes, praying for strength, before facing forward again and grabbing El’s hair to start pulling her curls back into a bun, “Nothing’s wrong you guys,”

The girls clearly weren’t buying it. El untangled herself from Steve’s grip, and now all three were right in front of him, staring at him with intense little looks. 

“Oh Steve, you fool,” Max tutted, shaking her head, “You just told a lie. And what is the first rule of our party?”

“Don’t say it,” Steve shot back, fully prepared to get up and walk out of the house if he had to hear that damn little line one more time. 

“Then tell us what is wrong,” El demanded. 

There was no way he was getting out of this. This was only going to end when they knew, so he might as well just tell them. 

They might even be able to help him. 

“Eddie hates Valentine’s Day,” Steve admitted, watching Max and Erica both immediately explode. 

“What?! No one hates Valentine’s Day. Not even me,” Max said, throwing up her hands in disgust. 

“Apparently he does,” Steve said glumly, sighing and resting his chin on his fist. Now that he had said it out loud, it was even more of a bummer. It wasn’t like they could go out for a date or anything, but the prospect of not even celebrating was just a complete downer

“Valentine is the candy holiday? The one Mike calls Winter Halloween?” El asked hesitantly. 

“It’s not exactly the same. It’s a holiday where you celebrate love,” Steve explained slowly, trying to pick the perfect words to convey the full concept. They learned quickly that El would fill in gaps with her own thoughts, and those thoughts were usually…not always the best, “Couples usually get each other chocolates or do something special to show how much they care about each other,”

“That sounds very nice. Why does Eddie not like it?” El wondered aloud, quirking her head to the side. 

“He says that it’s cliche and fake. He doesn’t think we need romance,” Steve shrugged, hating the thorns that were digging deep into his chest, “I guess he’s right,”

“No he’s not!” Max snapped, giving Steve a disgusted look, “If you want romance, which you should, then make him give it to you or dump his ass,” 

El nodded along sagely, and Steve chuckled softly, rolling his eyes. That was the problem with asking high schoolers for advice on your love life- inevitably their advice would be about forcing a situation to go the way they wanted. There was no explaining to them that in adult relationships, compromise was king. 

“Why don’t you just show him?” Erica asked, clearly deep in thought, “Make him see why you like romantic stuff so much, then tell him you want more of that. Then he has an idea of what you’re looking for.”

That…actually wasn’t a bad plan. 

Steve didn’t have to ask Eddie for more, he just had to show Eddie how much better things could be with a little bit of romance. 

“You’re pretty smart, you know that?” Steve said rhetorically, giving Erica a warm smile. 

“Yeah I do,” She replied. Her tone was biting as usual, but she was ducking her head and looked thoroughly pleased at helping him turn around his mood. She sat in El’s former spot and fluffed out her tight curls, “I also know that my hair is still not braided. El, Max, help Lover Boy come up with ideas while he makes another attempt at box braids.”

“Let’s see if I’ve gotten any better,” Steve mumbled to himself as the other girls began to grab magazines and leaf through them, throwing out suggestions left and right. 

This idea was going to work, and the best part was that it wasn’t even that hard. He was the King of romance, a modern day Romeo. Eddie wasn’t going to know what hit him.