#erica sinclair fic

[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.”

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer Park Steve AU part 6

part 1 | part 5

October

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Hey!" Lucas pouts.

"Hey yourself," he grins.

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

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

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

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

On second thought.

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

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

"You should talk to Eddie."

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

Screw financial compensation.

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

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

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

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

"Language—" Oh, what's the point.

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

"Jesus Christ."

"So, we good?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

"….She's fine," Steve answers.

Could be true, for all he knows.

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

Steve kind of wants to cry.

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

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

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

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

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

—

part 7

[atimeofyourlife]

30 or so years post-canon, Steve is a teacher, elementary or middle school.

One day, the principal knocks on the door to his classroom, frazzled, stressed, anything but the put-together appearance she always pulled off no matter the situation. "Steve-" That's another sign that something was wrong, she had never, in the twenty years Steve had known her, called another teacher by their first name in front of students, "I mean, Mr Harrington. You have a visitor. A very important visitor."

By this point, the class had all stopped what they were doing, totally interested in what was happening, none of them had seen their principal behave anything like this before.

"Send them in." Steve looked up from his marking as someone else entered the room. "Oh, hey, Erica."

The principal made a strangled sound at that. One of her longest-serving teachers greeting his guest as if she was another teacher, or a visiting former student, and not the President of the United States.

Just a little fic idea that I've had bouncing around my head. If the mood hits right, I might develop it into a real fic

[insomniacirl]

Thinking about Mike freaking out and talking out loud in s5 because he's worried for Will's safety- but instead of the s3 Mileven type confession where he admits it and everyone stops to smile, it's more aggressive..

"I can't lose him- not again. You know I can't! It's not the same for you- you've never-" And there's this brief, wide-eyed silence where everyone just kind of watches, this sudden realisation being absolutely devastating for the whole room while they wait for what he's about to say. And then, "I won't let them have him again." and with that Mike Wheeler picks up his fucking rifle and walks out the door.

This boy is not letting Will Byers leave him alone again. He will pick a fight with the devil himself if he has to. He's taking it into his own hands, he doesn't care about the consequences, he doesn't care who lives and dies... even if he doesn't survive the fall, he's got to save Will.

[ryan-waddell11]

Erica is so done with his ass

[mothellie]

I think the Duffer Brothers' history with racism in their show goes a lot deeper than a lot of people realize.

Lucas as a character has three distinct B plot stories that get assigned to him: being a minor antagonist to Eleven in season one, being a good friend to the rest of the Party, and being in love with his girlfriend. While Mike's plot is directly centered around two of the most pivotal characters of the show, Dustin is given two different role model characters that shape his arc and is overall the genius that helps the rest of the cast get out of several difficult situations, Will still being connected to the Upside Down after his disappearance in 1983 and that playing into several major plots, Max having a multitude of centric storylines especially in season four and Eleven literally being THE main character- Lucas is only ever given plots that help serve and uplift the other (white) characters. Unless you count him... playing basketball and being friends with Jason. I guess?

Erica is similar to Lucas, but to a much larger degree. I'd like you reading this to think of any single Erica standalone plot in the show that has nothing to do with/does not predominantly or solely benefit the white characters around her. I'll wait.

The Sinclair parents are only touched on in brief sections for the sake of filling the episodes, only ever playing a more major role in Season Four. If you could call it that. I'm sure most of you couldn't even tell me their names off of the top of your heads. (It's Charles and Sue, by the way.)

Argyle was the first somewhat major character of color to be introduced to the show after Erica played her part in season three. I could say similar things about his role in the season overall that I can about Lucas and Erica. Except they set him up to play a bigger role in the next season at the end of season four, going as far as to show him in Hawkins and have Jancy verbally allude to him sticking around, only for the show heads to ghost Eduardo Franco and let him find out he wasn't being brought back through an official social media cast photo.

Kali was a former subject from the same lab El came from, having escaped and subsequently began to lead a vigilante life of enacting revenge on those who played a hand in her suffering. She was the first subject El ever met after leaving the lab, shown to be incredibly powerful and strong-willed. Her and El had an immediate connection, calling themselves sisters right after meeting. But after El was finished with her self-discovery period on the S.S. Kali Gang for one (1) often-forgotten and poorly-written episode, Kali was quite literally abandoned both in spirit and on screen, never to be seen or even mentioned again.

All other characters of color are either killed violently (Patrick), have like ten minutes of screentime total (Jeff and Calvin Powell), or are just straight up background only and may not even have names.

They can dedicate an entire section of season four's plot to Suzie's family, but not to genuine character development for Erica or for Kali to return. They can make room for a whole pointless predatory plot between Billy and Karen, but not to give a more important role to the Sinclair parents. They have room to include a whole plot about El getting bullied in school, but not for Lucas to have a more meaningful story outside of his white friends and girlfriend. They can platform three known white zionists while Palestine currently undergoes a gruesome genocide even as I type this, but they don't have room for Argyle in season five (or even the decency to give Eduardo a fucking phone call).

Not only do the Duffers constantly write themselves into holes because they keep adding unnecessary fodder to the plot, and refuse to kill ANY of their main characters in favor of just creating new characters for the sake of killing them off in mediocre ways despite the fact that they're trying to fit 20+ B plots into 8-9 40-50 minute episodes per season and wondering why half their show doesn't make sense- The time they DO dedicate to character-specific B plots and character arc progression visibly favor the white characters.

If I watch S5, and that's a huge if, I will be sailing the high seas. Between all of this, the fact that they filmed part of season four in an old Nazi prison and tried to turn it into a fucking AirBNB, and the fact that at least four people who play major roles in the show actively support the current genocide of Palestine- I won't be giving them (or Netflix for that matter) another cent of my money.

While you're here, please do your completely free daily click to send aid to Palestine, and here's a list of other resources for how to help more directly.

[artiststarme]

Steve humors Erica’s “free ice cream for life” deal the first few times. But eventually, he gets sick of it and refuses to waste any more of his hard earned money on her sugar cravings. 

When she tries to call him out for breaking his word, he tells her that a contract made by a minor is void since children lack the legal capacity to enter a legal agreement by themselves and he was protected by the law. 

The entire Party turned to stare at him in shock at his words and his easy dismissal of perhaps the scariest child they’d ever met. That’s how they found out that Steve’s dad was a lawyer and he’d spent the summers as a kid ‘interning’ at his firm. 

Steve has never been prouder of himself at remembering something he always thought would be useless. Eddie is concerned that he finds Steve defending himself from a literal child hot and has a minor crisis. From then on, Erica has a grudge against Steve and makes sure to get her deals in writing.

[ediewentmissing]

pov: you fell down like an idiot

[brbsoulnomming]

Tell Me Sweet Little Lies Part 13

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | AO3

-----

Eddie wakes up in the morning - or at least, he thinks it's morning, though he guesses he could still be losing track of time, and it might still be the same day. His head lulls automatically to the side, gaze seeking out the hospital bed next to him like it's second nature, and -

Steve's gone.

There's no one there, the bed clean and empty with sheets all tucked and a pillow still in plastic, like no one was ever there in the first place.

Fuck, what if he wasn't there? What if Eddie's doped up brain imagined all of this, giving himself the comfort of a circle of friends that would stay with him in the hospital, that promised they wouldn't leave him and meant it? What if he really is alone now?

His breath is coming in short, desperate gasps, and he recognizes enough to know that he's hyperventilating again - though it feels distant, fuzzy, like it's happening to someone else and he's just observing.

Somewhere through the thick cotton obscuring his ears, he can tell someone is saying his name.

It's Dustin, fuck, he knows that voice, and he knows that means he's not alone, that they're still here with him, but he can't quite seem to get the rest of him on board with that thought, can't make it cut the panic racing through him.

There's a loud squawk by his ear, a hitch-pitched whine of feedback and a rush of static, and that startles him enough to focus in on Dustin urgently asking someone to do what they did before.

"Hey, Eddie, can you hear me?" Steve asks, voice tinny but still there, and Eddie tries not to feel pathetic about how hard he latches onto it. "You're all right, you're safe. You're not alone. We've got you, Eds, everyone's okay. We all made it out, we're all with you."

He keeps up the mantra as Eddie's breathing slowly evens out, as he feels himself settle back into himself. Dustin's sitting next to him, eyes wide and panicked, clutching a walkie-talkie and holding it up close to him as Steve's voice sounds from it.

"I'm-" Eddie starts, then has to swallow a few times around how dry his mouth feels. "I'm here. I'm good. Just - saw your bed empty when I woke up, kind of panicked."

"We've all been there," Steve says. "I got myself discharged a few hours ago - I'm out getting things ready. I'll let Dustin take it from here, okay? See you guys soon."

Eddie hums an affirmative, and Dustin lets go of the walkie, tucks it back into his pocket. There's a moment where Eddie has no idea what the fuck to say, but then Dustin shoots a little smile at him.

"It's okay," he says. "It happens to all of us. We skipped school to be with Will the first time this all happened, and I spent the night at Steve's for a week straight once."

Eddie's eyebrows shoot up. "Your mom let you sleep over at Steve Harrington's place for a week?"

Dustin rolls his eyes. "She loves Steve, it's kind of annoying. I told her he got his concussion defending us from bullies that time, and he needed someone to stay with him and make sure his brain didn't bleed out of his ears in his sleep."

There's a pause, and then the kid's eyes go a little bit earnest, like he's trying to sell him on something. "It was great, though. Steve made breakfast every morning, and he let me get whatever I wanted on my pizza, and he cooked dinner sometimes too, and he's got a huge TV and a ton of movies on tape, and he only complains a little bit if you-"

The door slams open, and Eddie jumps.

"We gotta go," Robin says as she and Lucas crowd into the room. "Did you tell him?"

"Tell me what?" Eddie asks, eyes darting around the room, fully expecting to see clocks or vines or fucking bats. "Is it Vecna, did that fucker recover already?"

"No, Max says he was in pretty bad shape. He's gonna be down for a while," Lucas replies.

"It's the cops and the rest of the town looneys," Robin says, taking up a post by the door while Lucas paces across the room, looking out the window. "We heard on the police radio channel, they found out you're here. We gotta get you out."

"Fuck." Eddie swallows, tangling the fingers of his good hand in the sheets of the hospital bed so tight it makes his knuckles creak. "I'm kind of out of options on safe places to lay low and recuperate here."

"What?" Dustin looks affronted. "No you're not. I told you, you've got us."

"All of us," Robin says, as Dustin comes to stand by her at the door.

He cranes his head down the hall. "Is there a doctor coming to release him?"

"Yeah, Erica yelled at him until he gave in, he's on his way." Lucas glances away from the window to look at Eddie. "We hid El in Mike's basement for days without anyone knowing, you think we can't do the same for you?"

Robin snorts. "It's not going to be Wheeler's shitty basement, Eddie, don't worry."

Eddie stares at them. Part of him is aware of what they're saying, is processing that he needs to get out of the hospital and he's not going to have to do it alone - that even though the world isn't technically ending right now, they're all going to stand by him.

But he feels like he did when they came back from sticking up for him with Carver and the others - overwhelmed, like he hasn't done anything to deserve this, like he doesn't know what to do with such clear, undeniable evidence that they've made him one of this party now.

"Eddie?" Dustin asks, stepping in a little closer. "You okay?"

Eddie snaps himself out of it. "Yeah. Just - fuck, all right, let's do this."

Robin helps him stand up, stays by his side as he steps into a pair of loose scrubs that someone's scrounged up for him - he doesn't ask, and he's assuming the clothes he wore in the Upside Down are trashed - and lets him lean on her shoulder so he's somewhat steady on his feet by the time a harried looking doctor makes it into the room.

"You realize you're not ready to be discharged?" the doctor asks immediately.

"I'm over eighteen," Eddie replies. "You can't keep me here if I want to leave, right?"

The doctor sighs. "You'll be leaving against medical advice."

"But I'm not going to, like, die of blood loss or infection or something if I do?" Eddie presses.

"We can't answer that question with any surety without another few days of observation," the doctor replies, then relents when everyone glares at him. "It's highly unlikely."

"Just tell us what we need to do to keep an eye on him," Robin says.

The doctor goes over the cliff notes - soft foods for a while, showers are okay but no soaking, no lifting things over five pounds, there's a page of stretching exercises for his shoulder and leg, a timeline for recovery, and a prescription for the rest of his antibiotics and a smaller one for some painkillers.

"That's all I can give you since you're leaving against medical advice," the doctor says, which Eddie knows is a load of bullshit, but he's too exhausted and itching to get out of here to call him on it.

They herd him out of the room and to the elevator, standing in a little half circle around him like he's got his own little string of tiny bodyguards, and the thought makes him giggle, just a little bit hysterically.

"You guys look like little lion cubs," he says.

"You think we can't protect you?" Dustin asks, sounding hurt.

Eddie shakes his head. "No, no, I'm feeling very protected right now. Thank you."

The elevator dings, and Eddie takes a deep breath as he steps off - into a controlled chaos. The waiting room is packed, some gurneys set up right out there with nurses tending to what seems like minor cases, and even some people sleeping on the floor. Eddie feels a moment of swooping panic, but no one even looks his way. They shuffle him out of the hospital to where Nancy and Erica are waiting in the Wheeler station wagon.

Eddie gingerly climbs in, and Lucas and Dustin slide into the backseat with Erica.

Robin holds up his prescription. "I'm gonna get this filled. Swing back and grab me after you drop them off?" she asks Nancy.

Nancy hums an affirmative, eyes flicking around to make sure everyone's wearing their seat belts before she takes off.

Eddie thinks about asking where they're going, but his stomach and chest and legs and arm ache, and he's wiped just from the walk out of the hospital and to the car. So he just tips his head back against the seat of the car, closes his eyes, and tries to hold himself still enough that the seatbelt doesn't rub up against his wounded gut.

Eventually, the car stops. He expects more talking, but there's a tense silence in the flurry of activity, until someone pulls open the car door and is unbuckling his seatbelt for him.

"Shit," Dustin says. "Is he out again?"

"M'up," Eddie mumbles, though admittedly, he's not entirely sure he's up for moving.

"Go get Steve," Erica orders imperiously. "Someone needs to drag his sorry ass around again."

Eddie forces his eyes open. "M'up, m'up, I got this."

In the time it takes for him to get oriented well enough to notice that the car is in a garage, and then shuffle around to get his feet pointed in the direction of out, though, Dustin's apparently managed to collect Steve, who emerges from what Eddie assumes is the door to a house, wearing a pair of sweats and a Hawkins swim team sweatshirt.

Eddie waves his hands around, preemptively slapping Steve away before he can even get to him. "No," he tells him, as he comes to a stop just out of slapping range. "I know you've got stitches, too. No heavy lifting."

"We're not going to lift you, Eddie, we're just going to help," Nancy says, coming around to his other side, and -

Hmm.

"Yeah, okay," he agrees, lowering his arms for a moment before changing course, and holding one hand out to each of them.

Nancy takes one hand, and Steve the other, and they both step in closer to help guide him out of the car and to his feet. They promptly sling one of his arms over each of their shoulders, and start shuffling their way into the house. Eddie pretends the sharp hiss and the sting of tears in his eyes are due only to the edge of pain from the movement, and not to the fact that he's feeling overwhelmed again by just how willing all of them seem to be to help him when he needs it.

The house that they shuffle him through is fucking pristine, a laundry room that feels bigger than Eddie's kitchen right off the garage and into a hallway, a closed off double door to the right and then a massive living room. There's an l-shaped sofa all made up with pillows and blankets, and that's where they take him, letting him settle down on it with a sigh of relief.

"Robin's filling his prescriptions," Nancy says to Steve. "I'm going to go get her, we'll be back soon."

She heads out as the herd of children Eddie apparently belongs to now troop into the living room, their voices all clamoring together.

Steve whistles, sharp and clear and making Eddie wince, though it does cut through the noise.

"You two," he says, pointing at the Sinclairs. "With me, we're calling your parents from the kitchen. Dustin, you're after them."

The noise picks up again, and this time Eddie can make out loud protests. Steve puts his fingers to his mouth again, and nope, nope, Eddie does not want that sounding off this close to his ear again.

"Hey!" he roars, and even though it makes his throat hurt, it works to shut them up. "Thank you."

"Parents," Steve repeats. "Or they're going to come looking for you, and maybe no one else will think to look for you guys here, but they will."

Dustin groans, but he doesn't protest again.

"What are we even supposed to tell them?" Lucas grumbles.

Steve shrugs. "What do you usually tell them?"

Dustin considers. "…yeah, okay, the babysitter cover will probably still work."

"Add in the Starcourt special," Lucas says.

Eddie looks between them all. "Is any of that supposed to make sense?"

"I told you, our parents love Steve," Dustin says. "He's been beaten up enough protecting us that they think he's some kind of defender against bullies and natural disasters."

Unwillingly, Eddie remembers the headlines after Starcourt, puts it together with what Robin'd told him and how beat to hell Steve looked when Eddie saw him. It doesn't sit well with Eddie, how casually Dustin talks about Steve getting beat up protecting them, but he also remembers Dustin holding onto Steve like he was a lifeline back in the hospital, so he thinks maybe it's a coping mechanism as much as it's a belief that Steve is invincible.

"We'll just tell them Steve was with us when the earthquake hit, and he kept us safe, then we waited with him at the hospital until he was discharged," Lucas says. "It's not even technically a lie."

Erica snorts, unimpressed. "And how does that explain you three sneaking out of the house when the cops were there and running away?"

"The cops? Oh, fucking great," Steve mutters. "What'd they say to you, are you guys okay?"

Max waves her good hand. "They didn't have anything on us. We weren't under arrest, they didn't tell us not to leave the house. They've got nothing."

"Question," Eddie says, holding up a hand. "How does that fit in with Steve carrying my unconscious ass into the hospital and telling everyone we were attacked?"

"You were attacked by the real killer, obviously," Dustin says, rolling his eyes. "But we're not going to bring that out until things have settled down a little."

Eddie considers if it's worth protesting exactly how flimsy that cover story is, and how much it won't hold up to anything, but - well. If he thinks too much about how deeply screwed he is with this murder stuff, it just makes him panic, and he doesn't really have room for all of that right now considering he's barely able to physically function.

He's pretty sure their parents will be too focused on their kids being safe after the "earthquake" for now, so he lets it go.

Steve seems to agree - or comes to an entirely different conclusion with the same result, fuck if Eddie knows, because he just points at Lucas and Erica again. "Kitchen. Now."

The Sinclairs reluctantly follow him, leaving Max and Dustin alone with Eddie.

"They're probably going to make us come home," Dustin mutters.

Max gives him a disdainful look. "At least you probably have a home to go back to."

"Wait, what?" Eddie asks when Dustin winces.

"The trailer park's a wreck," Max says flatly. "The earthquake or whatever it was hit the worst at the gates."

The gates. One of which was on the ceiling of his living room, right where -

"My uncle," Eddie says, trying not to freak out. "Is he okay, has anyone-"

"He's fine!" Dustin says hurriedly. "He was already out of your guys' place, cause, you know, crime scene. The school's been set up as a temporary housing until they can get everything sorted out, he's there."

Fuck if that doesn't make Eddie feel guilty all over again, but knowing his uncle is at least physically safe calms him down.

Max looks a little abashed, like she'd forgotten that she wasn't the only one in this little group who lives on that side of town anymore, which makes his heart go out to her. It's easy to forget about the things that should divide them, when they're all focused on saving the world and just trying to survive another day. He wonders how she deals with it when they're not all caught up in the Upside Down - wonders if she just hasn't been dealing with it at all, considering he knows she's a new resident of Forest Hills and that she'd been pulling away from the group before this.

She doesn't say anything else, and he doesn't ask.

Steve comes back before it gets too awkward, eyes automatically landing on Max in a way that, for a ridiculous moment, makes Eddie wonder if the guy is actually psychic.

"Mrs. Sinclair is asking for you," Steve says. "Do you want to come talk to her?"

His voice is soft, gentle, and he gives Max time to think it over - Eddie gets the feeling that Steve already has an excuse prepared for the Sinclairs if Max says no.

Max's eyes dart over at Eddie and Dustin for a moment, like she's not sure she wants to say anything in front of them. Then she deflates a little and looks back at Steve.

"My mom call back?" she asks.

"Not yet," Steve replies. "We can try again."

Max's jaw sets, and she shakes her head. "No. I want to talk to Mrs. Sinclair."

She stands, and doesn't push Steve's arm off of her when he grabs her in for a side hug as he guides her back into the kitchen.

Dustin leans back in the recliner he'd claimed, propping his booted foot up on the footrest. "I'm going to see if Mom'll let me stay over here a few days," he declares.

"Good luck with that," Eddie says. "Your mom's love of Steve aside, you've been gone for days. I think she's entitled to a day or two of hovering over you."

Dustin's nose scrunches, like he really wants to protest that but he's pretty sure Eddie's right.

"Fine," he mutters. "But you guys have to agree to walkie me every night. Every night, Eddie. And you have to make sure Steve leaves it on, and charged up, and I'm going to make him promise to check in as soon as he wakes up in the morning."

His heart - his stupid, not nearly cynical enough heart - cracks a little. "I'm okay, Dustin. Steve and I made it out okay."

"This time," Dustin says, and he won't meet Eddie's eyes, his voice thick enough that Eddie suspects he's holding back tears. "But you almost didn't. You almost died, Eddie, if El hadn't been ready for Vecna maybe you would have. And Steve - he's my brother, and I know he thinks he's invincible but one day he's not going to be, and he doesn't know how much I need him, how much I need you both -"

"Hey," Steve says.

Dustin yelps at the same time that Eddie jumps, hissing when that pulls at his stitches.

"Shit, Steve, make some noise next time!" Dustin complains.

"Sorry," Steve says, then reaches out to ruffle Dustin's hair. "I know, Dustin. Eddie and I both know, okay? We need you, too."

Part of Eddie wants to wheel back, to tell Steve that's awfully presumptuous of him, but - the part of him that he doesn't want to acknowledge, the bigger part right now, really fucking likes the way Steve says we, the way it makes Dustin stop looking so broken.

"Go home for a few days, then you can tell your mom that you're worried I'm going to rip my stitches trying to take care of myself and come stay over for a while, okay? We'll do it just like the first time."

Dustin considers that for a moment, then nods. "Okay."

"Good," Steve says. "Because it's your turn. You want me to bring the phone out here?"

"Nah, I can make it." Dustin lets down the recliner and slowly shuffles his way to the kitchen.

Steve shoots Eddie a look, and there's something quiet and intense in his eyes, something that Eddie feels like he can almost get, if he just -

Then Steve's moving, following Dustin back to the kitchen, and it's gone.

Eddie's alone.

This is the first time since he spent that long, shitty night in the woods that he's actually had some space to himself without one of the others in this strange little party right there. Part of him thinks he should enjoy the reprieve, taking in a breath and letting it out without worrying about what anyone else might see. Part of him thinks he should be panicking, like he did every time he thought he might have been left alone in the hospital.

He doesn't know what he actually feels.

There's a faint murmur of voices from the kitchen, low and soothing, and he thinks - he thinks about how if he yelled, any one of them would come running for him. He thinks about how if he heard yelling from them, he'd be launching himself up off this sofa and scrambling for the kitchen, bloody bite wounds or not. He thinks about how he ran, and how he didn't, and how none of them seemed to blame him when he ran from an invisible monster that turned a girl who was nothing but nice to him into a broken doll, and how they yelled at him for almost dying when he didn't run from a mob of demon bats who almost tore him to pieces. He thinks about how not one of them ever called him a coward, thinks about how they dragged him out of hell and slept in his hospital room and whisked him off to safety.

He thinks, maybe, they might just keep him, even if he isn't Steve's soulmate.

Steve comes out of the kitchen, shoots him a little wry smile and says, "Kind of figured none of us really want to be alone right now," and Eddie -

He thinks, fuck, he still really wants to be Steve's soulmate anyway.

Taglist (always happy to add more!): @vampireinthesun @koibug @estrellami-1 @mentalcyborg @allbimyself26 @questionablequeeries @the-s-is-silent @whimsicalwitchm @a-gae-af-racoon @tinyplanet95 @n0-1-important @velocitytimes2 @swimmingbirdrunningrock @newtstabber @jcmadgirl @roblingoblin285 @lexyvey @paperbackribs @goodolefashionedloverboi @evix-syne666 @raisedbylibrarians @stxrcrossed186 @nightmareglitter @greekgeek24 @starman-jpg @crazyhatlady86 @imfinereallyy @manda-panda-monium @deleataecount @prideandsensibility @chaoticvictorianspirit @maydillydally @disrespectedgoatman @scarlet-malfoy @i-less-than-three-you @hbyrde36 @hallucinatedjosten @dragonsandgayships @arepaconchocolate @g4ys0n @novelnovella @bisexualdisastersworld @ghostofyourvampiregf @scarletyeager @pettrichore @nerd-and-nervous @hiimlevi @queenie-ofthe-void @cinnamon-mushroomabomination

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Part 14

[lavenderstobins]

In you opinion, what would have happened if dustin and erica were captured by the russians alongside steve and robin?

To begin with, I think Steve essentially offers himself up immediately, trying to claim that the other three don’t know anything. Thing is, Dustin would also immediately start loudly protesting, so it would just be a mix of shouting until they’re separated.

They’re interrogated separately at first. Erica is a kid, so they’re not too interested in her — mainly, they’re trying to get answers by talking to her like she’s five, which… doesn’t work. Erica’s loud and cocky, talks back to them like they’re dumb, but she doesn’t really realise the extent of the situation until the screaming starts.

Dustin is in a similar boat, but old enough for them to not treat him like he’s stupid. He’s being loud and uncooperative too, and he intends to stay that way, until…

Well, until he hears what’s happening to Steve and Robin.

Because when Steve and Robin were captured, alone, they were hopeful that Dustin and Erica got out. That was enough for them. They figured they’d die down there, but at least Erica and Dustin would be safe.

In a scenario where Erica and Dustin got captured with them, though? That’s out the window. They’re not cooperative. They don’t care what happens to themselves, all they care about is ensuring Erica and Dustin’s safeties.

Steve is tortured, same as in the show, and the Russians don’t believe him when he says it was just him, that it was an accident. He hangs on as long as he can, trying to convince them that the other three were just dragged along for the ride.

Robin’s doing the exact same thing. So, there are conflicting stories already. Because Robin’s trying to bring the blame onto herself, saying she was bored at work and cracked their code, it was her, the other three are just her coworker and some kids he babysits who got stuck with her. Remember in the show how she was uncooperative with them, calling them bastards and spitting at them, up until the point where they start trying to pull Steve’s fingernails? If Dustin and Erica are involved, she’s in that mentality from the beginning.

Dustin and Erica are mainly left alone, all in all, but their captors have made it so that they’re able to hear both Steve and Robin getting tortured. That’s the catch for them. If they tell the truth, their friends don’t need to get hurt, yes?

(It’s also at this point that both Dustin and Erica realise they’re in over their heads. Neither will admit it, but they’re both terrified.)

Robin and Steve, I think, would then be interrogated together, because their stories aren’t aligning and both have taken blame, and the intent is that if they see how beaten up the other is then maybe they’ll crack. They kinda do, they kinda don’t. Steve once again tries to pull the blame to him, and I think Robin would get desperate and start shouting that it was obviously her, he’s just her stupid coworker, he wouldn’t understand a code at all, let alone crack it.

Because in both their respective minds, they’re at fault. Robin cracked the code, so she thinks she dragged them all into this. Steve let Dustin try and crack the code to begin with instead of brushing it off, so he thinks he dragged them all into this. And I think there’s this mutual understanding of let me take this, let me save you. Steve knows that Robin doesn’t know anything about the Upside Down, so she has no idea of that danger, but Robin not knowing about that is half the reason she’s so desperate to take the blame. She has no idea that there’s more to it than the cracking of the code.

Ultimately, I think they’d believe Robin. She’s a convincing liar, for one, and for two, Steve hadn’t mentioned the code once. He’d stuck to the ice cream job, where Robin had stuck to being bored and deciphering a code for fun.

So Steve gets shut up in a room with Dustin and Erica, who have had no idea what’s been happening for hours, and Dustin sees the state of his face and freaks. Steve’s frantic because he needs to get them out of there and save Robin, and he’s terrified because he knew what they did to him already, and he knew she’d already been hurt.

I think Steve, Dustin and Erica would manage to break out of their room and make a run for it, starting the subplot of Dustin and Erica’s rescue from the show. Dustin and Steve fill Erica in on things and find the cattle prod and green goo etc etc.

The three of them use it as a distraction and are able to break out Robin, same way Dustin and Erica do in the show. I think Robin would’ve been drugged, but she’d have been alone instead of drugged with Steve. Steve would’ve gotten into a fight with the doctor and Dustin would’ve still jabbed the doctor with the cattle prod (and killed him).

From there, things would mostly play out the same way except it’s only Robin that’s loopy on drugs, with Steve taking charge of the situation. I also think Steve would’ve scooped up Robin to run rather than tug her along by her wrist (since he’s obviously stronger than Dustin and Erica) which would’ve made Robin complain but she wouldn’t fight it. I do think she’d make some comment about “Tammy would be soooo mad at me… she might TALK to me…” while giggling, but the other three aren’t really paying attention to what she’s saying because she’s clearly out of it.

Steve would refute them hiding in the cinema, so I think the four of them would go with Dustin to try and get the radio to work. Robin keeps complaining that she’s thirsty so Steve takes her to get some water while Dustin and Erica try to reach the others.

The bathroom confession wouldn’t happen right then (because Steve hasn’t been drugged) so I think Robin would still dash to the bathroom to throw up and Steve would wait outside the stall (doesn’t want to leave her unattended).

Everything after that would play out the same as the show, minus Steve giving away Dustin’s name etc.

In this scenario I think Robin would come out to him after everything, either that night or sometime over the next few days, because Steve wouldn’t have confessed to being in love with her in the bathroom. Maybe they get drunk together after Starcourt, maybe they have a bathroom confession in the Harrington house. She’d come out to him before the s3 epilogue for sure though.

Sorry, this is probably a much longer answer than you were expecting, but this was fun to think about!

[sp0o0kylights]

“Oh god it’s covered in hearts.” Gareth says, staring horrified at the stage that’s been set up in the cafeteria. Grant and Jeff stand next to him, eyeing the abomination of glitter, paper, and tinsel that’s been shaped into pink and red hearts with a microphone standing proud in the middle.

Several of Hawkin’s jocks are standing to the side, talking amongst themselves, but worse is the crowd of students accumulating in front of the stage.

“You don’t think they’re gonna serenade us for Valentine's Day, do you?” Jeff asks in a similar tone of horror.

Grant makes a disgusted face at the very thought.

“It’s about time they gave me my own mic!” Eddie cackles, slamming his hands down on Gareth and Jeff’s shoulders for leverage, jumping up for a better look (Grant smartly ducked away before his friend can crawl all over him too), “I’ve only been going on about the capitalistic horrors of Valentine's Day since middle school!”

They groan in unison..

Eddie’s got a look on his face that says he’s about to vault up on stage and do this year's rant in style; Gareth will be damned if he lets Eddie get detention on a Hellfire campaign night.

“Eddie, no.” Gareth warns, as his best friend tries to worm his way past them.

“Eddie, yes.” He grins, bolting forward even as multiple hands reach out to yank him back.

“Whatever they’re doing we do not want to get in the middle!” Jeff hisses in his ear as Grant reaches for his middle (already once tricked by grabbing Eddie’s jacket, which he simply shrugged out of). Gareth does his part, holding firmly onto one of Eddie’s hands. Eddie bravely tries to stagger forward, despite the efforts of what looks like some kind of mutant tangle of human limbs.

“Come here microphone, my beloved!” He pants, comically reaching his arms out towards the stage, before Grant promptly stops fooling around and hefts him into the air.

“Nooo--the people need to hear me!” Eddie wails, thrashing.

Gareth rolls his eyes and spots three familiar faces in doing so. Freezes so abruptly that the arm he was holding onto slips out of his grip, allowing Eddie to deploy a tickle attack.

The result is Grant almost throwing him to the floor, with Jeff forced to let go or fall.

Free to cause chaos, Eddie throws his hands in the air, grinning widely.

“Is that…the freshman, up there?” Gareth asks before his best friend can crow victory.

“I’m sure there’s many freshmen up there, buddy.” Grant says with false sincerity as he regains his breath.

“No, not--I mean our freshmen! Henderson, Wheeler, and Sinclair!” He points, and sure enough, on the side of the crowd opposite the jocks, there stood Hellfire’s youngest with their heads put together.

“Now just what are they up to, I wonder?” Eddie ponders aloud, before shrugging his jacket back in place and strutting forward.

Trading uneasy looks with each other, his friends follow.

xXx

“The auction isn’t kicking off until 6 pm.” Henderson says, as he carefully counts the individual bills in his hand. “We know that besides the basketball team and the cheerleading team, they’ve got like, the Mayor involved, and the fire department, which means--”

“A lot of people are going to be there.” Mike interrupts, arms crossed over his arms. “That’s what it means, Dustin. What’s the point if every girl there is going to be bidding on him?”

“Were you even listening, Mike? I just said there’s a bunch of other people they’re auctioning off!”

Wheeler Jr. pulls a face that nearly makes Eddie laugh (and thus give up the fact he was slowly sneaking up on them) before the kid shoots back, “We have five dollars total Dustin. I don’t think that’s going to be enough.”

“Not to buy a whole person.” Eddie says, voice dropping to imitate the current big bad in their D&D campaign, “But five dollars is a fair price for a body part I’d say…”

He trails off with a cackle as the three freshmen startle away from him like spooked horses. “Now what--or who--are you buying?”

“They’re gonna explain it here in a minute,” Dustin says after he recovers, waving at the girls in front of the stage with a hand. “But there’s some big charity fundraiser happening tonight. Right now they’re voting one guy from the basketball team and one girl from the cheerleading squad to represent the school, but they’re auctioning off a bunch of people.” Dustin explains, holding up his fistful of dollars with a wild grin.

“If you’re the highest bidder, you get to spend the day with the person you bid on.” Lucas adds, because Dustin skipped right over that part. “Since it’s Valentine's Day themed, they’re referring to them as “winning a date”.

Well that explained all the giggling cheerleaders.

Eddie raises an eyebrow, “I’d ask if this is Sinclair’s bail money, but as my last two years remind me, it’s only for juniors and seniors. Not--” He playfully slings an arm around Lucas’s shoulders, “--for the darkside’s newest recruits.”

The uncomfortable look Lucas gives him is almost enough to make Eddie feel bad, but it’s not his fault Lucas was tempted by the evils of highschool sportsball. He figures the kid will come to his senses soon enough, and considering how awful the jocks are, it won’t be too long before Sinclair is 100% a Hellfire club member again.

“Which begs the question.” Eddie continues, slinging an arm over Mike’s shoulder as well. “What are you scheming? I’d ask if you’re buying me a date, but,'' He gives an over-dramatic sigh,” alas, no one can survive the charms of Eddie the Banished.”

“Charm is one word for it.” Jeff says, as the rest of Hellfire finally catches up. Gareth and Grant roll their eyes as Mike and Lucas chuckle weakly at Eddie’s exaggerated pout.

He drops his arms from his little lamb’s shoulders, taking a step back and looking around at the growing crowd.

“Hush Jeff. Let’s see if ol’ Eddie can guess who our brethren here have their eyes on. I wonder if…” He trails off, dragging out the last word as he does so before a bright, teasing smile lights up his face. “Aha! I see one Miss Cunningham. Are we bidding on her for Sir Gareth?”

A sputtering noise erupts behind him, as Eddie turns with glee to watch Gareth practically choke on soda he’d just taken a sip of, Grant thumping him on the back.

“Eddie.” Gareth hisses, and somehow it sounds like a warning even if his voice has a slight wheeze to it.

“What?” Eddie says, full of faux innocence. “We all know the lengths you’ve gone to get her attention recently.”

Gareth’s gone bright red, a testament to the fact that he’s been mooning over Chrissy Cunningham since the day she complimented one of his drawings.

His over-the-top moaning of how to woo her away from Jason is a prospect Eddie tolerates only because he himself has gone through great lengths to impress men that will never once look his way, let alone consider him as a romantic option.

(And also because Gareth, as Eddie’s best friend and confidant, was well aware of Eddie’s own crush on one Steve Harrington.

Apparently, Hellfire’s members were just cursed to fall for jocks.)

“They want to bet on Steve.” Mike says with an eye roll, apparently done with this entire charade.

For two seconds Eddie thinks that he’s somehow spoken the part about Steve aloud and that Mike is somehow echoing his deepest, innermost thoughts but is saved from panicking further by Dustin adding;

“We’re gonna make him play a campaign with us.”

The kid’s grin makes his eyes sparkle, which is completely at odds with the way Eddie’s stomach plummets.

“He played D&D with my sister, Eddie.” Lucas says, feigning a hurt look. “My kid sister, but not me?”

“Harrington played D&D?” Gareth’s voice implies he doesn’t believe it, and honestly? Had it not been for the freshmen, he wouldn’t have believed anything that was said about Harrington. He was on the verge of tears with laughter when they told him that the almighty King Steve was their chauffeur. They had to be lying about how often they hung out with Steve to begin with, right? Because there was just no way.

Except they weren’t. They really, really, weren’t.

It only took a handful of times of watching Steve pick them up from Hellfire, and then seeing the entire extended group (including Sinclair’s on-again-off-again girlfriend and Robin Buckley of all people) bouncing around Harrington like over excited puppies all over town.

The arcade. Downtown Hawkins. The local milkshake diner and the stupid movie theater.

Literally.

Everywhere.

“You guys are going to bid on Steve Harrington and make him play D&D.” Jeff clarifies, and Eddie doesn’t blame him for doing that either.

It’s the stupidest thing he’s heard all day, and he spent the last hour and a half listening to Mr. Rulf yawn on about parallelograms.

“Yeah! You guys wanna pitch in and help?”

“Absolutely not.” Eddie sneers. He can’t help himself--this is against everything he’s ever stood for.

Stupid thoughts of stupid Steve going on a stupid date with him, aside.

“Yeah guys, I think we’re gonna eat outside today. If you wanna listen to…whatever,” Jeff casts his eyes towards the cheerleader that’s bounding up the steps of the stage, ponytail bouncing, “ then go right ahead.”

“Oh we don’t need to listen to this.” Dustin dismisses the entire thing with a wave of his hand, making Mike roll his eyes again.

Somewhere in his campaign notes there’s a joke written about Wheeler Jr’s eyes getting stuck like that. Eddie hadn’t planned on bringing it out tonight, but a part of him really wants to.

Maybe if he can talk the freshman out of their idiotic idea, he’ll reward himself and do it tonight anyways.

….Or he could still steal that microphone.

xXx Steve xXx

Steve has no idea how he got talked into this.

Actually, that’s a lie, he knows how it started: a phone call, his mother, and a sudden way for her to be in the spotlight for her yearly fifteen minutes of Hawkins fame. He just can’t recall why he agreed to it.

“It's an opportunity, Steven." She says, heels clicking against the department store tile.

An embarrassment is what it was, but Steve knew better than to tell his mother that.

"You should be honored that Wendy--that’s the head chair of the charity board, you remember her don't you? She used to attend your piano recitals--she asked for you personally." His mother expertly plucked a shirt from the rack, holding it up to the light.

"Those were your parties mom, not my piano recitals." Steve reminds her as she holds the shirt out to him. He took it, adding it to the stack he had in his hands.

The parties were the exact same kind of shit this as this “Valentine's Day Fundraiser” a way for rich people to celebrate themselves by making others uncomfortable.

Only instead of being forced to play piano so his mothers friends could wine and dine with the famous Harrington's, he was being hauled up in front of the entire town (or whoever was attending this stupid event) and auctioned off as a “date” to the highest bidder.

(“It’s for one day, Steven, don’t be so dramatic. Why is your generation entirely incapable of taking a joke and having fun?” His mother had said, when he tried to tell her he wasn’t comfortable with the idea.

Of course there was no answer that would please her; soon enough, Steve found himself dragged about town as his mother played dress up.)

"You'll be standing alongside the Mayor, the fire department, even that idiot, Mary Marie--"

She stops for a moment, eyeing a jacket with a critical eye.

Just as quickly she dismisses it with a hum, prowling on to the next section.

"--the point is that there will be plenty of candidates for the children to pick from, but you’ll be the only hero up there."

That same critical eye turns on him, appraising him like he was no more than a horse in her stable, adding up imperfections and dividing amongst his best qualities.

(Despite a lifetime of training, it still takes everything in him not to squirm.)

"Not to mention a Harrington.” She purrs, taking a step closer to run a manicured hand down the front of his shirt, smoothing away a stray crease. “Women will be throwing money to win a day with you."

Steve has to fight not to outright shudder.

"Which means you have to look your best. Now stop whining, we’re almost done.”

Steve doubts that, but it doesn’t matter; he never had a choice to begin with.

xXx

Four hours, one shower, and several rounds of his mother’s nagging and meticulous styling, ,Steve finds himself back in Hawkin’s High, staring at the gym.

His mother had long swept past him, having spotted some high school friends and gone over to lord her lifestyle and general wealth over them.

For a fundraiser, the charity board in charge had spared no expense in dressing the gym up. Red, pink and white balloons decorated the doorways and a large stage hauled to one end.

Tables with thick, white table cloth are artfully arranged about the floor, caterers swiftly moving between them.

This is probably the fanciest this gym has ever looked, and Steve wants to be anywhere but inside it.

“Oh--Steve.” A gentle voice says next to him, and Steve turns his head in surprise to see Chrissy Cunningham look nervously up at him. “I didn’t know you’d be here.”

“Me neither honestly.” He tells her, watching the way that makes the younger woman smile. “But I’ve been volun-told to be auctioned off. What about yourself?”

Chrissy runs her hands down her dress, a modest if not beautiful blue halter dress , wincing as she snags a nail on it. “The school held a vote at lunch about who would represent the school tonight. All of the varsity cheerleaders and basketball players were involved.”

“I see.” Steve says, keeping his voice gentle and playful. There had always been a part of Chrissy that had reminded him of El. Someone who needed kind words in their life. “You got voted as tonight’s sacrifice, huh?”

Chrissy laughs at that, hand flying to cover her mouth. “I guess you could say that.” She says, and seems surprised at herself for it.

“Did Jason get picked too?” Steve asks. It would make sense if he was, the guy was the basketball Captain after all.

Chrissy nods, then chews on her lip. “Yes but--he’s not happy about it,”

Steve snorts and tries to cover it with a cough. “None of us are.”

“It’s more that I’m being auctioned off.”

Chrissy must catch the look on his face because she rushes to add; “You know, like any boyfriend would be! I know it’s just supposed to be a fun silly thing and they’re not really dates but…” She trails off, voice growing quieter at the end. “He worries.”

The word “worry” sounds like it means something else entirely.

Steve feels for her.

“Hey, if Jason’s an ass about it, let me know.” Steve says after a moment of shared silence. “You don’t deserve to deal with him being a kid about this shit.”

Chrissy blinks up at him at that, hand almost to her mouth as though she’d subconsciously raised them up to chew on her nails. “Thanks Steve. That’s nice of you.” She whispers it, and Steve nods and smiles at her.

“There you two are!” A woman says, rushing over with a clipboard. “Steve Harrington and Chrissy Cunningham, right? We’re gathering all the dates behind those doors.” She turns and points to the opposite end of the gym. “If you both would follow me please?”

Steve motions for Chrissy to go first, and moves to follow her when a flash of curls crushed down by a blur of white, blue and electric yellow catches his eye.

He turns automatically, seeking it out and sure enough, ducking down the hall is Henderson, Sinclair hot on his heels.

A familiar mixture of emotions lights up Steve’s spine, and he knows immediately he won’t be able to rest until he figures out what the gremlins are up to--because their Hellfire Club was supposedly canceled today on grounds that Munson had stolen a microphone, or some other crap.

“I’m really sorry, I’ll join you in a second!” Steve calls, before darting down the hall, after them.

[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.

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer Park Steve AU part 7

part 1 | part 6 | chapter 1 on ao3

cw: panic attack, ptsd flashback to minor character death, graphic depictions of… food? lol

Dinner is exactly as chaotic as Steve expected it to be. He and Claudia take opposite end seats with a glass of red wine each, and the kids take the middle and start acting like a pack of caffeinated raccoons: talking over each other, scraping forks against plates, stretching their entire upper bodies across the table and dragging their sleeves through the side dishes instead of just asking someone to pass them the butter; Steve’s starting to wonder if any of these kids have ever eaten at a table before, or if they maybe just wandered in from the surrounding woods. Feral asses.

When they do start asking for things, he regrets wishing they would, because Lucas goes “Erica, can you pass me the salt?” and Erica sneers “I don’t know, can I?” and Mike jabs “Whatever; nobody says ‘may’ anymore, you dork” and Claudia gasps “Michael!” and it all escalates from there until Dustin tries to catapult lasagna off the end of his fork and hits Steve in the side of the head with a glob of warm cheese.

Silence falls around the room.

The cheese plops onto his plate.

“Sh-ii-it,” Dustin breathes, face stuck in wide-eyed shock.

Steve gives Claudia an imploring look.

“Why don’t we clear the table for dessert?”

The commotion starts up again in double time, everyone scrambling to clean up and clear the room before Steve starts bitching about them messing up his hair (and his plate, and his clothes, because the cheese splash sent a spray of little tomato sauce droplets splattering all over him, and isn’t that just perfect; he’s gonna have to hand-scrub the stain out of his khakis), so it’s just him and Dustin left when Dustin’s elbow catches and tips over his wine.

The liquid spills onto his plate: dark, and red, oozing into the uneaten scraps of sauce and cheese and pasta to form a viscous, fleshy sludge. Red like his dad’s office, like his father’s mangled thigh, and it’s just food it’s just food it’s not blood it’s not blood but he can’t fucking breathe, can’t hearing anything beyond the wet, gasping sounds his dad made the night he died, and then he realizes that he’s making them, mouth moving fruitlessly around air that won’t pass, trapped in the bottleneck of his choked-off windpipe.

“Steve?” Dustin asks, and his voice sounds far away. “Shit, shit, Steve! Can you hear me? Are you choking? I know the Heimlich, just- just hold on!”

He snaps out of it when Dustin pulls him halfway from his chair, gets his fists under his ribs and all but punches the air from his lungs. It sets off a nasty coughing fit that leaves Steve snotty and ready to hurl, and he braces himself with his forearms on his knees and stares hard at the ground until the hacking finally stops.

There’s a scuff on his sneakers.

He can’t replace them any time soon.

A moment to catch his breath, and Dustin’s shaking him by the shoulders. “Are you okay??”

Steve keeps his head bowed. “Yeah.” He needs to get the fuck out of here. “Yeah, I’m good.”

He rises from his chair, grateful that everyone else already cleared out before they could witness his little moment, that the blare of the TV from the family room covered the sound of his retching coughs; more grateful still that they won’t notice him now, scampering out of here with his tail between his legs. “Hey listen, man, I’m not feeling so well,” he says absently, fishing his keys from the pocket of his jeans. “Can you get your mom to drive everyone home?”

“Shouldn’t you stay?” Dustin frowns in concern. “If you’re sick? You can go lie down in my room or something, it’s—”

“—Nah, man; I mean, thanks, but…” His hand trembles around his keys, the muscles in his calves screaming bolt, bolt, bolt. “I just- I gotta go.”

He makes a break for it, rushing out the side door so no one else will see him leave (and he knows it’s fucking rude to head out without saying goodbye, but he’s also pretty convinced he’s going to combust if he doesn’t go right now.) “Tell your mom I said thanks, okay?”

“Tell her yourself!” Dustin chases after him, clumsy and slow across the darkened yard. “Dude, will you slow down? Talk to me!”

Steve throws himself into his car like there’s a demodog on his heels. “I’ll call you!”

“What the fuck!” Dustin shouts, but Steve’s already gone.

—

part 8

tagging a few people i know have been following along 🩷 @slowandsteddie @paintsplatteredandimperfect @stevesbipanic @pennyplainknits @ledleaf @hellion-child @formosusiniquis @missjashin @runninriot @xpaperheartso @steddieas-shegoes

[lucassinclaer]

INVERSE

Rating: Gen Relationship: Erica Sinclair & Lucas Sinclair Notes: Post-Season 4, Erica Sinclair centric

“Erica,” says her mom, says her dad, says Lucas, and Erica doesn’t know how to say that it hasn’t occurred to her for a second to do things any other way.

READ ON AO3 HERE

this is a fill for my stranger things fic bingo square 'erica sinclair' - (if you wanna participate in the bingo, check out my pinned post!!)

“Erica!” says her music teacher and Erica doesn’t know why she sounds so surprised.

It’s not like she said anything that wasn’t true. She never does.

“Erica!” says Auntie Patrice and pulls her back by her collar.

Erica’s always thought that honesty is the good thing, the right thing, the thing other people would appreciate.

“Erica!” says Tanya on the playground.

She’s eleven and then she’s twelve and somewhere along the way it’s all changed. Her name become an exclamation she doesn’t get.

“Erica,” says her mom, says her dad, says Lucas, and Erica doesn’t know how to say that it hasn’t occurred to her for a second to do things any other way.

•

Here’s the thing: she isn’t trying to be rude.

Sure, she doesn’t care super care if she is, but it’s pretty much never her goal. Besides, shouldn’t it all be based on truth? Truth, justice, the American way. Erica can’t be the only one who pays attention to this stuff.

Sometimes it bugs her friends and they fight. They always make up in the end, but the days they don’t talk still suck.

She’s good in school, so her teachers don’t complain too much but when they have the time they tell her to be careful about running her mouth. Those days suck, too.

Her mom tells her, though – at night when she tucks Erica into bed even though she’s getting way too old for that – that she shouldn’t be anyone but who she is. That she shouldn’t let the world make her into someone else. (Erica doesn’t totally get it. How would that even work? There’s nothing in the world that she’d allow to change her, she’s sure. She doesn’t know where she’d begin.)

So, despite the chidings her mother doles out, Erica knows that she wants her daughter to be herself.

It’s a good thing, too, because Erica really likes being Erica.

•

The swelling of Lucas’ face still hasn’t gone down. Mom and dad fret over it, but the whole of Hawkins has been plunged into chaos and it’s easy to say that he and Erica and Max were in an accident when the quake hit. It’s not even that much of a lie.

Erica does most of the deflecting because her brother can’t be trusted these days. Not that she can blame him – although she still tries to give him grief. Can’t give up on everything normal.

But Max looks awful in that hospital bed, still and horrible. She’s meant to be her brother’s girlfriend who’s much too cool for him, on her skateboard, moving and teasing and fitting in at their house where she likes to watch TV. At least she used to before she stopped coming around. (Lucas never talked about that, at least not to her which makes sense. He still got those pathetic mooning eyes when she came up, though, so Erica knows it wasn’t his choice to break up. And he had hope the whole time. She could tell. He still has hope now and there’s something warm about it that Erica doesn’t know how to name.)

Yeah, Erica really hates that hospital room. It smells terrible, looks worse and there’s always some machine beeping in the background.

But there’s nowhere else to be. Lucas spends every possible moment in that room. The others come to visit when they can. They can only spare so many party members. Sometimes Max’s mother’s there but more often than not it’s just them, Max and Erica and Lucas.

A sick inverse of Saturday mornings spent on the couch where Lucas pretended not to be interested in her cartoons. Where Max would pretend like she didn’t enjoy her mother’s valiant efforts to feed her. Being a teenager involves a lot of pretending, Erica’s learned. It seems beyond exhausting.

Now it’s them playing checkers over Max’s hospital bed, commentating the whole way, before Lucas gets out Tolkien. They finished up The Talisman two days ago.

Today he hesitates. Doesn’t open his stupid Hobbit book and launches into reading.

There’s a heavy silence and when he speaks his voice is all torn up.

“I didn’t save her.” His fingers scratch at the cover, but his eyes are glued to Max’s still, waxy face. “We promised her we wouldn’t miss our shot but we didn’t—” He makes a choking sound like a sob.

There’s a twist in Erica’s chest, sour or like a burn.

“When she wakes up… I don’t know how she could forgive me.”

It’s the rawest Erica thinks she’s ever seen him. It’s unsettling and makes the biting feeling behind her ribs worse. She doesn’t want this to happen. Lucas is the big brother and big brothers aren’t supposed to fall apart.

They can be poked and prodded and provoked and they’ll yell and take their He-Man dolls back and they’ll lie for their sisters about the stain on the good carpet once threatened.

This isn’t right.

The helplessness in his eyes is contagious. It crawls up her arms, immobilizing her inch by inch. If Lucas doesn’t know what to do in this room, how is she supposed to know what to do in this room?

Her brother is broken in this moment, much like Hawkins. They have the same scars. Like he was torn apart with it.

So, she tells him the only thing she ever tells anyone: the truth.

“Well, that’s stupid.”

His head shoots up. He frowns but he doesn’t say anything. He’s listening to her, Erica realizes, like she has an answer he wants to hear.

Everything gets so weird when the world ends.

“That’s what Max would say, and you know it. Stop being stupid.” She’s standing on the opposite side of the bed from where he’s sitting. They bring their own water bottles because the hospital is overflowing still and can’t spare the glasses. Erica puts her bottle (pink to Lucas’ green, mom bought them together) back into their backpack. “You did everything you could. I don’t know how you guys survived ‘til high school. We all knew the risk. Max was never gonna let other people take the fall. It was a dangerous plan, but who else was gonna do anything?”

It's bitter in the back of her throat. She’d looked at the group of them, in that van, before they got to Creel House, and she’d felt cold inside. Everyone they had, everyone willing to fight, had looked so young. Unqualified. Inexperienced.

Child endangerment, she’d told Dustin and Robin an eternity ago. That’s all this town really is now. The evidence lies with them right here in this room.

There’s still something in her that’s constricted. Those words were all she had. She doesn’t know what she’ll do if Lucas pushes back, if it’s not enough.

Slowly, she tears her eyes away from the lonely backpack by the side of Max’s bed.

Lucas has the tiniest smile on his face.

“Erica,” he says, and it sounds like thank you.

[thestobingirlie]

society when stranger things fans realise women will never be a perfect victim, and everyone finally stops reducing female characters down to innocent baby, flawless mother, or demon bitch.

[rollerskate2theface]

5+1 five times someone noticed Steve Harrington liking men and the one time everyone noticed he loved one

1 Steve

Steve never really put much thought into who he was attracted to. Girls were easy he didn’t even have to try for them to be all over him, really it’s just a matter of convenience.

Nancy was like that at first, all flustered and flirty. But he could tell it was all some sort of act even if she didn’t know it. He was proven correct after Nancy’s whole “bullshit” stunt on Halloween. Steve really couldn’t even blame her, he knew he was bullshit.

Going after girls only girls because it was convenient? That sure seems like bullshit to him. So, he began to actually acknowledge things. Like how no other guys on the swim team seemed to admire each other’s physiques or how Tommy never seemed to understand Carol’s constant ramblings about how hot Mel Gibson is.

Steve always knew he just began to actually act on it, ya know, occasionally.

2 Erica

The first to notice was surprisingly Erica Sinclair. Well, maybe not so surprisingly considering she seemed to make it her goal for the summer to have his complete and undivided attention. Seeing as he was the only thing between her and 4x her weight in ice cream.

“Hey Nerd what could possibly be more interesting to you, a costumer service employee, than me, a costumer?”

Without looking at her Steve spoke, “You’ve come in everyday for the past 3 weeks and have only bought 1 single scoop in total. He however,” Steve pointedly looked at a guy in his early 20’s licking a drop of melted ice cream up his hand and back to his cone, “seems to be very content with his purchase.”

Erica huffed “barf me out, if I wanted to see some narbo make goo goo eyes I would’ve just stayed home with Lukie and Max.” With that Erica made her way out of the shop in hopes of getting more free samples from Hot Sam’s pretzels.

2.5 Robin (sort of)

Robin didn’t really get Steve Harrington. First he showed up to work on Robin’s first day with that hideous sailor’s costume on before introducing himself to her as if they weren’t in the same class an entire year and romantic rivals. He acted kind enough despite his near constant complaining.

There was also those damn kids that Robin couldn’t comprehend belonged to Steve. They had the guy wrapped around their little fingers, it was honestly kinda pathetic -maybe she should make another board. He was always giving them his company provided scoops they were allowed during breaks.

“Need to stay in shape; no high school athletics anymore. Plus those kids are skinny as twigs,” he’d brush her off.

At first Robin thought it was just the kids he was giving his free ice cream to but then she’d notice how he missed the payment of a couple of guys around their age that had come in.

“Hey Dingus! You forgot to charge them, I’ve seen you do that twice now!” Robin was annoyed if Steve kept doing that they’d both get written up.

“Don’t worry, that was my ice cream mark out,” Steve said offhandedly.

That made Robin stop, those didn’t look like any of the guys in King Steve’s posse of friends. “Why’d you give them your mark out? Do you know them?” Robin’s curiosity beat out her annoyance at the older teen in front of her.

“Nope! Let’s just say I’m hoping for a good tip,” Steve tossed out as he winked and walked into the back room.

This idiot most people tipped at least a dollar even when they had to pay… whatever it’s his mark out.

3.5 Dustin

Say what you may about Dustin Henderson but he was a scientist at heart. So, when he began to notice things about one of his favorite people he decided he needed to test his theory.

“So, uh, Steve,” Dustin threw out while he and Steve were listening to music in the older man’s family room. Steve was jogging on his fathers treadmill as Dustin wrote his letter to send to Suzie in the mail.

Steve gave an uninterested ‘mmhm’ in response.

“Will’s been complaining about how all the party has girlfriends but him-”

“You go easy on him middle school’s hard enough without a bunch of dickwad friends and relationship drama-”

“High school, Steve, we start high school in the fall. No more middle school baby shit for us!”

“Yeah yeah whatever just lay off Will. Not everyone is interested in romance so young,” Steve finally finished once their bickering stoped.

Dustin scoffed, “No that’s just Mike, he’s the only one being weird about it. But anyway that’s exactly what I was about to ask! When did you start showing romantic interest?” Dustin preened himself on his subtlety.

Steve looked surprised at that, “Oh! Well I guess I really started liking people romantically in 6th grade. I mean I had my first girlfriend in 7th grade,” he snorted, “if you could even call it that, we just held hands at recess and gave messages through friends…”

Dustin tuned the other out. ‘People’ damn that was a bust alright new approach.

“Yeah yeah uh huh sooo, Steve? Which Star Wars character do you think is the hottest?” Dustin asked thinking back to the film he’d watched the night prior.

The treadmill stopped as Steve sighed and turned to face Dustin, “dude I keep telling you I’m not going to watch your geeky movie.”

“How dare you! Star Wars is a cinematic masterpiece! I-” stay on track Dustin don’t jeopardize the experiment, “whatever who do you think is the hottest actor from one of your lame rom-coms then?” Okay, so much for subtlety.

Steve raised an eyebrow at that -oh no he noticed- he walked over and plopped down on the floor next to Dustin, “Alright, what’s going on why are you acting weird?”

“What? I’m not acting weird? I just,” another unconvinced look, “Ugh fine. I’ve just started to notice how you aren’t only flirty with… with just girls anymore… Which is totally fine! Cool! Awesome even! I just, I wanted to find out if I was… right? I don’t know, now I sound like an asshole.”

Dustin isn’t sure if it’s a good sign or a bad sign when Steve began to laugh. His laughter died down after a couple seconds, “you’re a strange kid, you know that? But to prove- confirm your hypothesis or whatever. Yes I like men, and women, both I like both,” Steve stammered. “You’re actually the first one I’ve said that to.”

Dustin grinned twisting to hug Steve from where he was sat beside him. A thought just occurred to the almost high schooler, “ This means double the potential set ups.” This sentiment was met with a groan and a plead of not needing that.

4.5 Mike

Mike Wheeler has been told he’s at that ‘difficult’ age in puberty -gross- where he’s mad about everything. Well if you ask him it’s pretty freaking easy to be mad at everything including how his mom sold his bike at a yard sale because, “You’re too big for it now Michael you can barely ride it. This money is going towards a new one you’ll just have to save up.”

Hence why he’s waiting for his ride who’s currently working in a too cold, too bright shop, with an annoying smile on his face talking to some long haired weirdo with like 8 different chains hanging off his pants and a black bandana sticking out of his back right pocket. A weirdo that’s been here for over an hour making Steve stay late. “Steve! We were supposed to be out of here 12 minutes ago! Hurry up!” Mike yelled tapping his watch as though Steve could see it from across the store.

“Hold your shit Wheeler we’ll be out in a minute,” Steve yelled back earning a bark of laughter from the weirdo. Mike heard Steve start to finish up speaking with the- costumer? Actually, Mike doesn’t think he ever saw that guy even order anything.

Feeling curious Mike meandered towards them trying to catch the end of their conversation.

“-my house or yours tonight?”

“Wayne has tonight off so he’s gonna be hogging up the trailer soooo”

“Yeah yeah my place just remember no blasting music in my neighborhood the Inslee’s are already this close to calling the cops”

“Oh yeah, and heaven knows what we’ll be up to when they arrive-”

“Shut up! Alright I gotta go see you in a couple hours Ed!”

With that Steve and Mike exited the Scoops Ahoy walking through the food court and out the mall towards Steve’s Beamer where it sat in the mall parking lot. The two settled in, Steve making sure Mike had his seatbelt on before pulling out. From the passengers seat Mike eyed Steve trying to decipher what he had heard the two older men in the mall talking about.

Giving in Mike gave an annoyed huff admitting he was actually interested in something to do with Steve Harrington. “Who was that guy and how often do you have sleepovers?” he asked.

This was met with shifty eyes and a soft laugh from the older teen, “who? Eddie? The guy from the mall? He’s no one, just a friend,” there was a strange tinge of guilt in his voice.

“You shouldn’t do that.” Mike said firmly staring out at the road in front of them.

This made Steve confused turning to look at Mike before redirecting them back to the road, “do what?”

This made Mike even more pissed. “Lead people on. You and I both know you like girls, you’ve dated girls, you dated Nancy! Did you not care about her? Did you not love her? I know you broke up or whatever, but she definitely loved you once, I can’t believe you faked the whole thing!” Mike had tears welling in his eyes.

The car came to a slow as Steve pulled over to the side of the road, “woaah hey man I did- I did love your sister. Sometimes I think a little more than she loved me. I was never lying about what I felt for her.” Mike sniffled. “And yes, I do like girls always have, still do. But, I think you may have noticed,” Steve attempted to joke, “I’m also of the uh, male persuasion? Ugh that sounds gross. Men I like men too.”

Steve expected some backlash after the start of this conversation and was surprised when he was met with Mike’s odd look of clarity. “You- you can like both?” The younger boy asked. Steve hadn’t heard him sound so small since he saw him take care of an unconscious Will during their last run in with monsters.

“Yeah, you can like both.”

5 Robin (yes again)

Okay so Steve Harrington wasn’t that bad. In fact he was kind of cool. And not like popular, eggs cars and makes out with chicks under the bleachers cool. But genuinely a cool dude that basically saved her life, well, with the help of a couple children.

Maybe it was the drugs, maybe it was the probable head trauma, maybe it was even the thrill of actually escaping a secret Russian base but Robin felt like she could tell this guy anything. Which probably wasn’t great considering her… situation.

The two teenagers were sitting in the bathroom heads hanging over toilet bowl rims. They were joking around but the girl knew she didn’t want to be asked any heavy or revealing questions not when she didn’t have complete control of her mind so instead she asked Steve.

“Have you… ever been in love” she’d asked after some thought. This should be easy enough for him, he’s known for his prowess with the ladies.

She received a small cackle from the stall next to her. “Yeah a couple of times. Nancy Wheeler my first love I went insane for that girl, first semester senior year,” Steve made a gun motion shooting into his heart, “honestly I’m glad I had what I had with Nancy and also glad that it ended? If it hadn’t I would’ve never been with who I’m with today, the person I think I want to spend the rest of my life with,” Robin could tell there was a smile of his face when he’d said that.

Wow Robin really hadn’t expected that confession, she was honestly a bit worried he might admit to liking her. Who would’ve thought Steve Harrington tied down. “How’d you know?” Robin asked she’d never been able to think that strongly about anyone not even Tammy who she’s had a year long major crush on.

Steve sighed, “I don’t know… He just makes me feel happy and excited whenever I’m near him.”

Robin’s breath hitched when she noticed the pronouns he’d used, okay she definitely wasn’t supposed to be told this, he wasn’t in the right state of mind, neither was she. And yet, she couldn’t stop him; it felt so good to hear about someone like her actually being happy and finding love even if it was surprisingly Steve Harrington.

“He’s a lot different than everyone else I’ve dated, but he’s also different from everybody else in general so I guess that makes sense. He’s dramatic and weird, and impossible to look away from. I still can’t even believe he likes me back.”

Hearing Steve talk about his boyfriend gave Robin the confidence to tell him about Tammy much to his great judgment which they joked about until Dustin and Erica barged into their little sanctuary of a bathroom.

+1 Everyone

If you ask anyone, that day after Vecna was defeated the whole party piled into their meeting place at the hospital. They wouldn’t tell you the first thing they noticed was a limping Dustin crying silently as though he could no longer make sound from screaming so loudly. It wasn’t Robin walking through the door with a broken guitar in her arms. It wasn’t even the boy bleeding out, unconscious, clothes ripped to shreds.

No, they’d tell you they’d noticed Steve Harrington sobbing as he yelled for ‘someone anyone please help him please my Eddie please help him somebody Eddie please Eddie’. He held Eddie Munson in his arms as he ran through the hospital begging them to save his Eddie.

Eddie was taken into surgery immediately and nobody could think of what to say to Steve. He was hunched over in a small waiting chair right outside Eddie’s operating room.

It was Joyce Byers freshly off a death helicopter from Russia that kneeled down in front of the boy. She held his hands in hers as she said, “he’ll be okay. He knows your out here waiting for him. He won’t leave you.”

With that Steve slumped forward onto her as he began to sob.

Eddie came out of his first surgery a couple hours later but the doctors informed he was likely going to be in unconscious for at least a week. Steve stayed with Eddie and his uncle in the hospital everyday refusing to leave. The kids filtered in and out checking on Eddie and Max a few rooms down. Without fail Steve had his chair pulled up right next to Eddie’s bed just watching him.

Dustin talked to Eddie, a lot, so did Robin. Eddie probably liked that, both Wayne and Steve didn’t talk much. Preferred to sit in silence watching for any sign that the comatose boy was improving.

The day Eddie did wake up most of the party was there including Nancy, Jonathan, some guy from California, the youngest Sinclair -Lucas didn’t want to leave Max alone- a couple Russians, his uncle and his boyfriend. When Eddie slowly opened his eyes he looked towards Steve sitting directly to his left.

“Hey Stevie, I tried to be a hero. Sorry,” his vocals were strangled from lack of use.

“You should be sorry! You are such an idiot! God I love you, never do that again.” Steve then pulled Eddie into a searing kiss in front of everyone. Not that anyone was surprised.