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beetlesandstarss · 2 years

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Chapter 1: Bathtub Shenanigans

To Be Loved For No Reason At All (Series)

Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 || Chapter 3 || Chapter 4 || Chapter 5 || Chapter 6 || Chapter 7 || Chapter 8 || Chapter 9 || Chapter 10

Summary: It all starts with Steve finding Eddie Munson in Alison Brown’s bathtub. Or, how one night leads to a conversation, leads to shotgunning, leads to confessions, leads to The Rocky Horror Picture Show. Steve's just along for the ride.

Notes: thank you to fly_agaric (on ao3) for being an absolute angel and reading this through, fixing what would otherwise probably be the beginning of the end. hugs and kisses to you <3

chapter playlist for you: Drinks - Cyn Human - Daughter Do It Again - No Rome A Portrait Of - Sorority Noise Guilty Conscience - 070 Shake Figure 8 - Peach Pit

It all starts with Steve finding Eddie Munson in Alison Brown’s bathtub.

Ten minutes prior, Steve’s pushing his way through sweaty bodies, stepping in something sticky, then something soft.

"Hey!" some guy yelps. The guy whose hair Steve’s standing on, it turns out. Steve barks out a crazed laugh over the pounding music before yelling, “Sorry, man.”

What’s the guy doing, lying on the floor? It’s hilarious.

The music’s throbbing, the temperature’s high, and Steve won’t be going home any time soon. He’s in that sweet spot right now, where he’s drunk enough for the world to feel fuzzy and fun, but not yet like he's going to hurl. He wants to keep dancing forever, keep making eyes at the doe-eyed girl with the pink skirt a while longer, but his bladder has other plans.

The room shifts with him as he stumbles. He hears another keg being rolled out the door to his right, hears a door shut somewhere else in the house. Everything is so loud and far away.

He tries the door to the bathroom downstairs, shaking the handle mournfully until finally, he admits defeat. So he heads upstairs, where the music is less overwhelming, but his skin still burns, smile still hanging loose on his lips.

He finds the bathroom just down the hall from what he assumes is Alison’s room. He’s never had a thing with her, so he’s not sure. Tommy H used to say her glasses made her nose look big. Steve kind of hates that now.

He pulls his zipper down and undoes his pants, glancing in the mirror. He looks good. Life’s good. Tonight, at least, he doesn’t have to think about college, or Nancy, or his mom and dad and their fucking expectations. Tonight, he’s gonna dance and flirt and like, totally get laid without feeling fucking guilty because Nancy broke up with him months ago, and he’d have to be kind of pathetic to feel guilty about moving on.

Sighing, he starts to piss. Thinks about what he’s gonna do tomorrow. Tries to remember what time his shift starts at Family Video. Forgets all about it when he’s done zipping himself back up.

He flushes. Looks in the mirror again. Opens the cabinet, idly reading the labels on the prescription bottles there. Alison should know better, he thinks. No one’s dumb enough to leave pills sitting around when there’s a party going on. Although, Steve maybe also shouldn’t be snooping upstairs which, now that he thinks about it, might have maybe been off-limits. Whatever.

He runs his hand through his hair, tugging on a few tufts, styling it just so. Starts to turn.

Then he spots something fuzzy out of the corner of his eye. Just a curl of brown hair poking up from behind the shower curtain. Steve yanks the curtain away, and there, in all his glory, lies Eddie Munson. Steve’s stomach flips. Maybe he did have a drink too many. He's barely seen the guy since he was cleared of murder. And now here he is, in Alison's bathtub.

He’s sprawled with all his limbs stretched out all funny. Reminds Steve of a ragdoll. He’s wearing his stupid Hellfire Club t-shirt, but he’s spilled something down the front of it. His eyes are closed, hair hanging limp around his shoulder. The world is swimming, and Steve can’t tell if he’s breathing.

Steve trips to his knees, hands immediately on Eddie’s chest, his face, his neck. He feels cold to the touch. “Hey, hey, man, c’mon. Wake up. C’mon, open your eyes for me, man.”

Steve slaps him on the cheek. When that garners not so much as a flinch, he does it again, harder. Nothing. He’s so pale. Steve feels like he’s gonna vomit. What did you take, Munson?

Breathing harder, the room suddenly stuffy and cold, Steve’s eyes fly around the room, searching for something, anything that might help. He looks at the tap. Looks at Eddie. A split-second decision later, and there’s water pouring all over Eddie’s face, and then he sluggishly thinks that maybe water-boarding the poor guy isn’t the right move right now.

Eddie’s eyes blink open slowly though, even under the rush of water. Steve turns the tap off with a clumsy hand.

“Oh my God, thank God, Jesus,” slurs Steve, feeling feverish with relief. “Fuck, I thought you were dead, asshole.”

But Eddie doesn’t say anything. He’s just blinking slowly, mouth parting a little as if he’s forgotten how to speak.

“Hey, you with me?” Steve shakes Eddie’s arm. “Dude, c’mon. Say something.”

Nothing. Steve slaps him again. Pulls back, grabs ahold of the bathtub’s lip. Eddie keeps blinking dumbly at the ceiling. Like he doesn’t even know Steve’s there.

“Shit.” Steve leans back too quickly. The world tilts unfairly, and Steve falls on his ass.

In the bathtub, Eddie groans weakly.

“God, you’re the worst.”

Eddie just murmurs unintelligibly.

Sobering him up takes time. Steve pulls him out of the bathtub and sits with him, fumbles for a memory he can’t quite grasp when Eddie breaks into an uncontrollable sweat. He presses the back of his hand to Eddie’s forehead, and to his dismay, finds he's burning up. What is it you do for fevers? His mom, he thinks, used to sit with him. He remembers a cold towel. Soft hands. He struggles to move so that he’s facing Eddie, sitting on his knees. In his haste to do right by him, Steve pulls off his shirt, turning quickly to run it under the tap’s cool water. Wrings the t-shirt out.

When he faces Eddie again, Eddie’s eyes are on him, something like suspicion clouding his eyes. Steve wants to reassure him, but he doesn’t know what to say.

Shuffling closer, Steve watches Eddie’s eyes flutter shut again as he begins to dab his wet shirt over his face.

This version of Eddie is so unlike the one he'd come to know just a couple of weeks ago. It's thoroughly unnerving. He knows the guy's got a different face for everybody, the kids especially. To them, he's this loud, unapologetic, whip-smart dude - a guy who, to survive, made himself too weird to antagonize, lest you wanted to be monologued at for five minutes. A guy to look up to, if you'd had a rough time in middle school. Someone to have fun with. To Tommy and Carol, he's a freak. Steve's seen him play it up, saying stuff just to stir the pot, to get spit at. With Steve, he's only ever been scared. He gets the feeling he's always been scared. The guy sitting in front of him looks wildly out of control, trembling with it, like he's spun out of orbit and can't find his way back. Like he's alone. Like nobody would've come looking for him tonight, if Steve hadn't happened to find him.

Eddie takes a shaky breath. It’s meditative, or whatever, Steve thinks, doing something like this for Eddie, despite his racing heart. Breathing in tandem.

After some time, Steve leans back against the wall next to Eddie again. His long hair tickles his bare arm.

"Thanks," murmurs Eddie into the quiet.

"Dude. Just, like, keep breathing for me, man," says Steve.

Eddie just nods.

It’s - weird. Steve’s been through weirder, sure, but sitting here with Eddie Munson, trying to think of something to say to make it all better? That’s weird, and kinda makes him want to give the guy a hug.

He needs to fill the silence before it stretches on forever. Steals a glance at Eddie before saying, “I ever tell you about that time Tommy drove into Mr. Ferguson’s pool? Like, on purpose?”

Eddie shakes his head minutely, eyes closed, so Steve starts talking. Tells him it had been Carol’s idea, to begin with. Daring Tommy to go faster and faster on the freeway back from the Drive-In Cinema. That daring Tommy is always the worst idea ever, because Tommy never knows when to chill. Laughs when he describes Tommy’s face, when they’d realised at the same time that there was smoke coming from the engine.

He has little time to think about the way his heart clenches uncomfortably, the way it always does when he tells a story involving Tommy. Most of his stories involve him in some way or another. His heart hurts a lot, these days. He keeps his eyes on Eddie. Can’t let the idiot fall asleep.

Eddie barely acknowledges he’s heard much of anything Steve’s been saying at all, until Steve pauses. Then he lolls his head onto Steve’s shoulder and mouths at his shirt before saying in an undertone, “And then?”

So Steve powers on and tells him about a red-faced Hopper yelling at the two of them, and how Steve had caught him laughing into the radio later, relaying what had happened to a colleague. Steve’s parents had come back all the way from Washington to smooth things over. It’s probably the nicest thing they’ve ever done for him. Eddie makes a face when he says that.

“Didn’t know the chief was, uh… was such a pushover," slurs Eddie.

Steve thrills a little at hearing Eddie talk again. This is good. Progress.

“He’s not. Tough son of a bitch. But he’s - he's got his moments.”

Eddie nudges at Steve’s neck with his nose. Steve ignores the way it makes him shiver. Eddie hums against him.

“Hi?” says Steve, voice a little too high. “How’re you feeling, there?”

"Oh, y'know," says Eddie against his neck, then pulls back. He looks a bit green. "Comme ci comme ça. Not a wanted murderer anymore, yay."

“Do you think you’re gonna like, die on me, or...?”

He has no idea how to ask Eddie what he took tonight, or mixed with alcohol or whatever, without making this worse. He doesn't want to poke the bear.

Eddie breathes through his nose. “Not dying tonight, Harrington.”

Steve will just have to learn to live with that answer. “So you’re, you’re okay?”

“Peachy-fucking-keen. Good enough to, uh. Leave on my own, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Steve recoils. “What?" He plants a hand on the floor to steady himself. "If you think I'd leave you alone like this you're a hell of a lot dumber than you look, Munson. Don’t be stupid.” In his head, he can hear Nancy echoing the sentiment, from what feels like a lifetime ago. Don’t be an idiot, Steve Harrington.

“Okay, okay," Eddie says, without his usual flare. "No need to get your panties in a twist.”

"I won't," Steve promises adamantly.

"Okay," says Eddie, slouching further into the wall, closing his eyes. "Good."

A lengthy pause, and then -

“Um,“ starts Steve, resisting the urge to twiddle his thumbs. He taps the floor instead. “Did - did something happen? That like… made… tonight like this?”

A high-pitched laugh escapes Eddie. “Uh, yeah. I got drunk, and then I got high, and then you tried to uh, drown me, I think? Which, by the way, what the fuck, dude.”

“You were totally fucked up,” he defends. “I thought you were dead, what was I supposed to do, just let you die?”

“Something like that,” mutters Eddie. His mouth twists, and he slaps his face a couple of times like he’s trying to wake himself up. Through his fingers he sighs, “Life goes on and on and on and on. It’s relentless.” He drops his hands. “Almost as relentless as you, Harrington.”

“You are like, so depressing, man. You know that?” Steve tries to grapple with everything Eddie’s just said, and realises suddenly that wow, he is in fact still drunk, and no, intelligent thought isn’t something he was capable of in the first place.

“These days I’m just waiting for day to become night, Harrington.”

Steve tries to let that sink in when Eddie suddenly mumbles, “Gonna hurl.”

Steve grabs Eddie’s arms and hauls him to the toilet, throwing the lid open. Eddie sinks down like he’s made of putty, groaning into the bowl. Steve shushes him gently, pulling his hair out of his sweaty face, keeps a gentle hold on it so he doesn’t get vomit on it.

Eddie chokes. Once, twice, and then he’s throwing up, spitting into the toilet, making soft, pitiful noises.

“There we go. Just let it all out,” says Steve.

“That’s what I’m doing, man,” Eddie slurs. “Hello, breakfast, lunch, dinner.”

He throws up again.

When he’s done, Eddie rests his head on the toilet seat, body trembling all over. “Fuck,” he moans, voice wrecked.

“Gonna move you over a little there, bud,” says Steve, breathing through his mouth. Once Eddie’s settled against the wall again, eyes closed, head tipped back, Steve flushes the toilet. Grabs his damp shirt again and hands it to Eddie, who cracks an eye open and wipes his mouth with it. It needed a wash anyway.

They sit quietly again. This recurring silence is really kicking Steve’s ass. But it doesn’t feel quite so damning, anymore. Steve nips downstairs to get a glass of water, pushing through a party he's no longer a part of. He's gone maybe two minutes, but by the time he gets back up again, Eddie is lying facedown on the floor. He groans to let Steve know he’s alive at least, for which Steve is disproportionally grateful.

“C’mon, man,” says Steve, kicking at his foot.

“Just let me die,” says Eddie.

He rolls Eddie over and makes him drink the glass of water. Just little sips at a time, so he doesn’t throw it all back up again.

“Feel like I’m on fire,” Eddie mumbles into the glass Steve’s pressing to his lips.

“That’ll happen when you get higher than Heaven.”

“Fuck - off,” hiccups Eddie.

“And scare the bejesus out of your pal.”

Eddie whines.

Steve forces another sip of water on him. Remembers how bleak Eddie had been in the Upside Down, how much he’d looked like he does right now.

Eddie belches suddenly. Steve snorts. Says, “Jesus, what would your mom think?”

Putting his hands between his legs and squeezing his knees around them, Eddie makes a face. “Wouldn’t know, haven’t seen her in seven years.”

Before Steve can reply - because wow, wrong thing to say - Eddie smacks his lips a couple times as if to communicate his mouth's dry, so Steve quickly refills the glass with tap water, pressing it gently to Eddie’s lips. He looks him dead in the eye as he drinks. Steve feels naked under his gaze.

“I ever tell you about her? My mom?” Eddie asks when he’s wiped his mouth, voice small.

Steve shakes his head. He’s been curious, but never got up the nerve to ask. Feeling like he's standing on the precipice of something, he says, “You don’t have to. But… I’m - I’m all ears, man.”

Eddie pokes Steve’s wrist. “Literally survived another hellish dimension together, might as well.”

Steve has nothing to give him, so he offers a small smile. Eddie’s returning smile is a weak thing, and he purses his lips a moment later.

“She, uh. She taught me how to read. I had… I had trouble, the letters all kinda… swam together when I tried. Still do. Dumb kid, dumber teenager, you know how it— yeah, you know how it goes. She told me stories before bed every night for years, made me write a few too, I got real into it after a while. Made sure to write them as soon as I got home, fuck homework, y’know? Couldn’t disappoint her.” Eddie swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing. “After - okay, so you know my dad is - he’s out of the picture.”

“Sorry,” says Steve instinctually, wincing.

Eddie glances over at him, lips twitching. “I don’t give a shit about him, it’s okay. Left when I was, uh, three, I think? I don’t remember him, just like, his hands. Weird, right? Anyway. My mom got a boyfriend when I was like, ten. Low-grade fucking creep, but the first year he’s this swell guy, real charmer, and he’s got money put away, so my mom can quit one of her jobs, and I get to see her in the mornings. Yay, right? Sometimes I could - I remember thinking, hey, mom’s acting a bit different, right? Something’s got her all jumpy! But I’m ten, and I don’t know any better and I never ask her why because I’m a fucking idiot.” He sucks in a breath. Holds it, blows his cheeks up. Slowly breathes out through his nose. Pulls a hand over skittish eyes, and keeps it there. Steve doesn’t know what to do, so he lets himself be a passenger, someone to witness this moment.

“So, I’m about to turn twelve, I’m in bed, I’ve got the birthday jitters, or whatever. and she stays up late, baking. Chocolate fudge, I think. My favorite. I could hear her, y’know, banging pots around and shit, singing something to herself, I don’t know. Maybe she wasn’t, maybe my brain’s just making it up but, it’s all I got. I don't know. Mason - her boyfriend - comes home, and they’re talkin’, they’re whispering, and I’m thinking, huh. They must be planning something for tomorrow, I don’t know. I kept thinking it, happy as a bee under the covers, and then there’s this - this fucking crash, fucking loud, right, and I’m out of my room, in the kitchen and my mom’s crying, right, and she never fucking cries, and the cake’s on the floor, and Mason’s looking out the window, and there’s just something wrong about him, y’know?” He barks out a laugh, but it sounds pained.

“Came home from school the next morning, and Mason’s there in the living room, waiting for me. He says my mom and him are going away for a little while, I’ll go stay with my uncle. Says my mom’s already left, without me, ‘cause she didn’t like, care enough to say goodbye? I’m - I’m crying and I’m hitting him, I’m just a kid, I just want my mom, and I fucking hated Mason, thought he was the devil or something. But, what can I do? He's - he's stronger than me.” He laughs, voice wobbly.

“He drives me to Wayne’s - my uncle's - who I’ve seen like, twice a year at this point, and… that’s it.”

Steve opens and closes his mouth. “That’s, that’s it? What?”

“He never comes the fuck back, man. Gone, just like that.” Eddie snaps his fingers. “Poof. Fucking magic trick. Except the person he disappeared was my fucking mom. Never saw either of them again.” Steve sees the wetness on Eddie’s red cheeks, sees the tears grow thicker, catching on his chin. Speaking quickly and fervently now, Eddie says, “Wayne says he got a letter from mom a couple years back but he never let me see it, so. I, I don’t know.”

Steve listens to Eddie sniff quietly, catching his breath. Watches his lips tug downwards as if on their own accord, trying to resume some natural, sorrowful position. He shifts, hand brushing against Eddie’s. He's warm, now. Steve meets Eddie’s gaze. Heart thundering in his ears, Steve slides his hand over Eddie’s. He brushes his thumb over his knuckles. Eddie doesn’t pull away. Neither does Steve.

“I hope she’s dead,” Eddie whispers, eyes still on Steve, desperate, and so full of grief. Steve’s never seen Eddie be completely honest before. He can’t look away. "I - I really do, sometimes."

The moment fades: Eddie deflates. Looks away. Laughs wetly. “Fucking horrible son. Worse nephew.” He wipes his nose with the back of his unoccupied hand. “Shit.”

Steve just squeezes his hand, hoping it somehow communicates what he wants to say, but can’t get past his traitorous teeth. I’m so sorry. I wish I could make it all go away. I wish your mom’d stuck around. I wish your eyes weren’t so sad.

Eddie looks at Steve, eyes bloodshot, nose running, lips bitten-red. Steve wants to cover his face with his hands, protect him. They don’t break eye contact. His heart beats fiercely in his chest, as though determined to beat right out of him.

Eddie looks away. “Fuck. Sorry.”

“Don’t,” says Steve, softly, finding his voice. “Don’t say sorry. You…” He has no idea what possesses him to do it, but Steve tips Eddie’s chin so he’s looking him in the eye again. Eddie’s eyes widen. “Eddie, you’re like, the strongest person I know. Seriously.” Eddie looks a bit thunderstruck. Steve clears his throat, dropping Eddie's chin. “Shit, I should apologize for being so bad at this.”

“God, you— no.” Eddie pulls a hand down his face again. “I was literally passed out in the bathtub when you were trying to take a piss.” He shakes with sudden laughter. “Fuck, that’s - that’s so embarrassing.”

“What’s embarrassing is taking a piss when someone’s passed out in the bathtub.”

Eddie’s snickering gets louder, through all of his tears-and-snotty glory. Steve snickers along, absurdly. What a fucking night.

“Hey. Look at us, huh?” Steve knocks his knee into Eddie's.

Eddie smiles wryly, glancing down at their joined hands, making Steve’s heart skip a beat. “Yeah. Look at us.”

Notes: A QUICK NOTE: never pour water on someone you think might've overdosed!!! not a good idea! in this, steve is drunk and he is not thinking, so do not do what he does. that is all.

#steve x eddie #eddie munson #eddie x steve #eddie munson fanfic #eddie #eddie the freak munson #steve harrington #steve #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction

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