#good babysitter steve harrington

[formosusiniquis]

when you're fifteen

Even as he hands over the platter of chocolate chip miracles he makes, Steve sighs. It's a full bodied affair that makes Eddie nervous on instinct. "We need to talk about Mike."

It is and isn't a surprise.

Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson; Steve Harrington & Mike Wheeler WC: 4044 | Rated T | Tags/Themes: Good Babysitter Steve, Period Atypical Depictions of DnD, HoH!Steve, Disabled!Eddie Ao3

Eddie prided himself on his ability to manage a table. A forever DM, four years into a lifetime sentence, he can keep a story on track and, more importantly, keep tempers in check for hours at a time. 

He kept track of a thousand little details across notebooks, binders, and just trapped in his own brain. He knew everything about his NPCs, the world, his player’s characters, and the things that drove his players nuts. He had plans, backup plans, and vague ideas of shit he could do if things went completely and totally off the rails despite all of those plans. That was one of the things he held fast on his tongue the first time he failed senior year. Of course he didn’t pass. He’d taken on the mantle of Dungeon Master. He had to put together a story that took into account: Jeff’s high stakes backstory with the missing mother and bounty on his head, Gareth’s need to flirt with anything age appropriate that had a pulse, and Joey’s tactical mind when it comes to battle. Wasn’t it enough that he was going to class, he had to do shit at home about it too?

He didn’t like saying it. He liked to bitch about it a lot, actually. Eddie wasn’t really sure what he’d do with himself if he wasn’t The DM. It was like a core part of his identity.

It made the current situation he was in more world rocking than he really wanted to deal with.

He liked to think, if he couldn’t feel the remaining muscles in his side screaming in agony because he was sitting wrong -- or for too long or both -- and if his lower back wasn’t seizing and spasming for the same or maybe a brand new reason it had decided to come up with today, that he’d be able to manage this table just as well as he always had. Eight really wasn’t that different from three.

Except that combat is impossible to manage, each round took forever and that’s when everyone was paying attention. Except that there hasn’t been a satisfying story moment for Jeffrey the Jovial or Dustin’s Sir Rathington in the last four sessions. Except that Erica has been scribbling something in her notebook that probably wasn’t campaign notes since she hadn’t called him on the plot hole he caught session planning a month ago and hasn’t been able to fix -- and is more likely to have something to do with the way he noticed her looking at Uhura and Chapel when she was watching Star Trek reruns with Steve.

Except that Mike has been screaming at Dustin and Lucas for the better part of five minutes and Eddie really isn’t sure how to fix it.

“The plan is stupid. Did you even spend more than ten seconds thinking about it or did you decide that Will could just roll another character and we could save the resources.”

“Will could roll another character. It's not the first time he's rolled another character.” Lucas points out for what might be the third time, Eddie’s lost count.

“This whole thing is about resources, Mike.” Dustin snaps, “We’ll all be rolling new characters if we go into this stupid fucking fight while Gareth has no spell slots, Lucas is down to three arrows, Joey’s already used his second wind, and half the party is below half health.”

“It doesn’t matter, if we don’t go into the fight now Will is going to turn into some bloodsucking vampire spawn.”

Eddie knows this is the point that he should grab the reins again. He should prompt one of them to make a decision, or better yet, take the decision away from them entirely. But there’s a numbness in his thigh that has somehow spread to his mouth; it’s different from the pain the rest of his body is in, not really better or worse, and just as distracting. 

The rest of the table is quiet, boredom and annoyance plain on their faces. But they’ve also stopped looking to him to fix the problem. That’s the worst thing the Upside Down took from him, he thinks, even as his body is radiating pain from places he used to be able to forget he had.

“Or maybe it’s a trap,” Lucas points out. And it should be, but Lucas is a far better tactician than Eddie who already knows he won’t want to deal with the work it would take to do that well. “Y’know since you made all your weak spots pretty clear to Lord Ellias.”

“Or,” Dustin drawls out with a Harrington’s level of bitch and ire, “we could trust Eddie to turn this into a fucking story moment.”

“You guys are both so full of shit, just-” Mike has his nose curled and lip snarled, Eddie can feel the breeze of the blade swinging down to deliver the death blow to this campaign and adventuring party.

“Alright time to take a break.” Steve claps his hands, an angel come from on high to save Eddie. “Get up, get a snack, move your feet. Give my dining room some time to air out before it smells like nerd forever.”

Mike turns the full weight of his aggression on to Steve, who hopefully has a damage immunity or advantage on saves at the very least otherwise this is looking like a short talk, “We can't just take a break. Do you not get what the stakes are here? We've got to save-”

“Save someone who will still be in danger in twenty minutes.” Steve steamrolls over Mike’s argument with an unaffected ease. Eddie can feel the mood of the table lift just a bit, now that they’re about to be rescued.

“You just don't get it.”

“I get that it's pretend.” In a pre-Vencapocalypse world that would have been enough to get Eddie fighting on Little Wheeler’s side, but much as DnD is still his life. Fuck, it is all just pretend. “Go take a lap.”

“Ugh why do we even come over here. We could do this at my house without washed up jocks interrupting us.” Mike says but he gets up. Storming off to god knows where in the monstrosity of Steve’s house. Will, quiet as he always seems to get when he’s the center of one of these drag outs, trails off after Mike with an eye roll at the other two sophomores and an apologetic shrug for Steve.

And Eddie has his table again. Quiet and still, waiting for him to say something. Like there’s even anything to say when his very own Deus Ex Machina is leaving the room without so much as a backward glance at the poor schmucks he’s saved. “Well,” he says with a clap of his hands, “My blood sugar is dropping, so I’m going to shove as many of those cookies I smelled earlier into my mouth as I can in twenty minutes.” Because as much as they weren’t looking to him before, they need the DM to break the spell of the table. That’s how the whole thing goes.

And they scatter once it breaks. Eddie’s original Hellfire boys stay at the table, their ease at the Harrington house has been hardwon and the argument has rekindled something nerdy and skittish in them. Erica has headed off to the corner of the house Steve has let her claim as her own, nose still buried in her notebook. He doesn’t know where Lucas and Dustin are, but wherever they’ve gone they aren’t around to watch him struggle to pull himself out of his throne with his cane. He should just give in and let Steve raise the seat, half the problem is that it sits too low -- but knowing that and being willing to admit it at any point other than when he’s in PT levels of misery from pulling himself up are very different things.

Steve has his back to the door again, by the time Eddie makes his way to the kitchen. He has a bizarre semi-awareness of his surroundings that can be hard to predict. Sometimes it’s freaky how Steve can call out Dustin or Erica from a different room with an almost parental ‘eyes in the back of his head’ sixth sense. Other times his own soulmate can get the drop on him, managing to get her arms wrapped around his middle before he even realizes they’re in the same room.

It’s better to slam his cane against the floor a couple times. To let Steve feel the vibrations through the floorboards with his sock feet, that way nobody has to get hurt or feel guilty for doing the hurting.

Getting to see Steve’s grin bloom across his face as he flips that famous hair and catches sight of Eddie isn’t so bad either.

Next to Steve, it’s safe to prop his cane against the counter. He can rest his hips against the sure, solid surface and relax in the presence of his boyfriend while the blood returns to his limbs and a new kind of discomfort settles in. A hand, warm and sudsy finds the back of his neck. A strong thumb digging into a knot that had been there since at least last week with an erotic precision.

“You’ve got to stop letting them keep you in that chair for so long.”

"If we take breaks we'll just be here longer."

He shrugs, pulling his other hand from the dish water to pull Eddie into a gentle hold. "So be here longer."

"You'd get sick of the fighting. I'd get sick of the fighting." Actually it was probably better not to remind Steve of that. "You know I really did want one of those famous Stevie Henderson cookies."

Even as he hands over the platter of chocolate chip miracles he makes, Steve sighs. It's a full bodied affair that makes Eddie nervous on instinct. "We need to talk about Mike."

It is and isn't a surprise. "I know the yelling is a lot, Sweetheart, I'm sorry. You don't have a migraine, do you? I can talk to him and make him chill out a bit." That last part is absolutely a lie; he doesn't think he could get Mike under control right now if he had a stun gun and half a pound of Argyle’s primo Cali weed.

Not that it matters Steve has on his scrunchy faced 'you're wrong about something,' look, Eddie just needs to give him the minute it'll take to get his thoughts together. "You know I love you right?"

“In this dimension and any others,” Eddie supplies.

Steve smiles, feather soft, and runs a soothing hand through Eddie's hair the way he always does right before he says something atrociously bitchy. "I turn my hearing aids off the second you all start playing. If I had to listen to your game three different times, three different ways I'd drive my car into a portal."

He keeps going the way he does when he's afraid he's been too mean and wants to try to soften his edges for general consumption, like Eddie hadn't fallen in love with him the first time he called Dusin a butthead. "This way you and Dust can still use me as a sounding board for your plots and theories and I don't have to listen to my favorite nerds try to remember if 5+7 is 11 or 12."

“So what’s?”

“I’m worried about him!” Steve insists. Eddie might pride himself on his ability to handle a table, but he knows Steve is proud of his way with the kids. His relationship with each of them is rich and distinct, the way he handles each of them unique.

But it’s Mike.

Something must cross his face. He can only call it something, because he’s honestly not sure what emotion he’s feeling other than headache and how many cookies can I eat before they start tasting like nausea. But something else must have been there that causes Steve to cross his arms and glare.

“Yeah, of course, you’re worried about him. We are worried about him. Why are we worried about him, other than worried about what an asshole he’s been lately?”

That was not the right thing to say either, Eddie’s really rolling straight ones today. Steve’s glare shutters even further closed, and seriously it’s Mike. The same kid who called Steve a washed up jock not ten minutes ago. Who takes every single offered opportunity, and even some that he makes himself, to bitch and glare at Hawkins own #1 babysitter and monster hunter. 

“He’s a teenager with more trauma than a ‘Nam vet. But even if he weren’t he’s not an asshole for being barely fifteen and not knowing when to shut the hell up. Do you remember the kind of shit you were saying back then?”

Big brother Steve has successfully landed a critical hit. Eddie does remember the kind of shit he used to say. Just like he knows Steve remembers the kind of shit he used to say. And they both remember the shit that they used to say to one another. How Eddie called Steve a braindead future Reganite who wouldn’t know good taste if it spit in his mouth. How Steve had called Eddie a tryhard that was so desperate to be different because that was the only way he could hide having nothing to offer.

“So we’re worried?”

“I just don’t want him to say something he can’t walk back because he forgot the thing he’s getting upset over is pretend.” He runs a finger down Eddie’s splayed hands. A tickling sensation he can feel down the path it traces from the back of his palm and down his middle finger and, in a phantom mirror, down his spine. “I know you get into your characters, or whatever, I’m sure this is bringing up a lot of memories but he’s going to regret lashing out if it means he pushes away Dustin or Lucas or one of the other guys.”

“I notice you left out Will.”

“Yeah well, Will is more likely to get hurt by something he says when lashing out while they aren’t playing exposure therapy the game. I mean seriously, you had to kidnap him? That’s where your, ‘Stevie, baby, what should I do with them this week? They decided to do something stupid,’ bitching and moaning landed you?”

Eddie doesn’t even really have time to let himself feel the fluttery, squishy feeling he wants to feel -- cause Steve does actually listen when they’ve got their feet tangled on the sofa together, each working on their own things -- before it’s getting smacked by down by the paladin of his heart. “No, no, that isn’t where I landed. I had a perfectly acceptable diplomacy mission prepared, with a back up fight that they were supposed to run away from. What do you want me to do, Sunshine? I gotta give the game some stakes. It’s not exactly fun for Will if he knows he’s indestructible.”

Maybe, he thinks, he should just stop talking today. Just cancel the rest of the session entirely. Will gets carried off by the vampire spawn, half dead and unsaveable, the party on its last legs, unable to agree on a course of action; and actually that’s where we’re gonna end things come back next week and hope Steve even lets us in the house after the screaming we’ve all done. Why? Because he can feel every joint in his body and every one of them is in pain. Because there’s been the dull throb of a low grade headache beating an even pulse in his temples since he woke up this morning. But mostly because every time he opens his stupid fucking mouth to talk Steve stops touching him, and that sucks absolute balls.

“I maybe had an idea,” Steve says. His voice dips and slides while he keeps his hands small, quiet, and close to his chest. Something Robin told him, and he’s now noticing, means Steve has thought about this idea a lot, long enough that he’s convinced himself it’s bad. Eddie’s noticed that even when these ideas aren’t phrased well, they’re never bad.

“I know it’s like rule number one: don’t split the party,” Steve can’t help but roll his eyes when he says it, an instinctive bit of brotherly mockery of Dustin, he would guess. “But what if you split the group a bit. Mike can go after Will, I’m sure Erica would be down to kill some vampires. She loves a chance to test drive her new feats and shit. Then Jeff and Dustin and whoever else can finish up that thing? With the missing girlfriend or whatever? And once that’s done they reunite to do whatever’s next on the list, save the kingdom.”

Eddie sits with that for a bit.

Impulsive is still his middle name, but sometime between being eaten alive by other dimensional hell creatures and getting a thousand and six tiny, itchy stitches removed he’s started giving things second and even third thoughts. Though in this case the second thoughts are less ‘is this a good idea’ and more ‘will Steve bend me over that solid oak dining table and critique my DM notes while he rails me.’

As his stomach swoops, his lower body twinges in a much less enjoyable way. Letting him know that now he’d been standing too long, or leaning against the counter the wrong way, or maybe something else entirely that made his legs tired of doing one of the few things they were made to do. 

Figures he finally lands a hot boyfriend and he's got chronic pain keeping him from getting his dick wet.

“If you’ve already got another idea-”

“No,” he rushes to assure Steve, who needs to stay confident in his own ideas for all kinds of reasons but right now mostly so he’ll be willing to play into this new fantasy of Eddie’s once his body is willing to cooperate with the standing and the bending it’s going to require. “No, it’s a fantastic idea. I’m plotting as we speak.” 

And that isn’t a total lie. Forever DM, he can think about all the fun ways the love of his life and reason he’s still living could degrade his current campaign -- An oath of vengeance paladin questing to save a lost love, isn’t that a little played out. Oh wow, rat swarms in a dungeon, they’re never gonna see that coming -- and figure out how to trick the group into thinking splitting the party was their own idea.

“How long,” he asks his resident child expert, “do you think it would take Will to roll up a new character?”

The smile that tips the corners of Steve’s face is the best part of his day. “Will always has an extra character rolled up with the rest of his stuff in his folder."

Things are slotting together in his head now, and as Steve's hands come around to do something magical in a spot on his back that probably has a name but mostly makes his legs feel like they should really belong to a baby deer.

“So Will…”

“Can convince Mike, and get a chance to try out the new thingy he built. He’s been waiting to talk to you about it.”

Eddie’s getting excited now, hands shaking in the good way. He doesn’t even care that his knee locks as he tries to bounce on his toes, just lets his hands get out the excited energy. “And the band can go do the story side plot shit I’ve been putting off…” 

“With Dustin,” Steve reminds, “cause he’ll want to go wherever there’s the best chance to stir up shit. You already know Erica is going to go where there’s a chance to prove she’s the best at fighting, Lucas too. Not the fighting thing. He’ll go to round out the group, and so his mom doesn’t have to worry about keeping track of one more thing on the family calendar.”

“You’re a genius, Sweetheart.” He snags Steve by the collar, ignoring his bitching that the two fingered pinch he’s got it in is going to stretch it out, and pulls him close. Pressing a kiss on the corner of his perfect boyfriend’s pleased little smile. “I gotta go talk to Will about this character.”

“Send Mike down when you do?”

He’s surprised when he gets no argument, barely gets acknowledgement, when he finds Will and Mike in the guest bathroom and separates them. Mike slips from the room with nothing but a backward glance at Will, who smiles supportively. Once he clears the room, it takes next to zero prompting to get Will to talk about his backup character. The ‘thingy’ he'd been working on a tricked out ranger build that's going to annihilate. 

There's something fresh, brightening, about Will's enthusiasm for the character that infects Eddie too. It gets him excited, for the first time since everyone arrived, to sit down around their over crowded table and play the hour of set up it's going to take to get the party ready to be split. 

And Will doesn't duck his head anymore when Eddie pushes at him and his DnD expertise, he just pushes back. Together they work out a couple tweaks that will make the build fit better in the party, flesh out a backstory that they can integrate even if it doesn't end up going anywhere, and it doesn't really feel like time passes at all. Until Sinclair is sticking his head through the door, surprise artfully hidden at who he finds, as he asks if they're ready to go.

Mike is conspicuously absent from the table when Eddie makes his way to it, and that won't do at all. He's not an asshole, he's just 15. Something like shame crawls up the back of his throat as Steve's reminder sounds in his head. He remembers 15 and the things he said but more than that, as he looks around the table, he remembers being the last to arrive at a hangout of people you're already worried hate you only to find them having a good time without you. 

Eddie has always prided himself on his ability to run a good session. "Stevie, gimme back our paladin, do I need to bring in a hostage negotiator."

A cookie held in one hand while the other smooths down the ruffled fringe of his bangs, Mike re-enters the dining room. The back of his Hellfire shirt is bunched and, if that weren't sign enough he'd been on the receiving end of a perfect Harrington hug, he looks settled. A smile tugging at his face that Eddie hadn't realized how much he missed, he looks boyish and happy and if Eddie didn't before he understands Steve's mission to keep these kids kids by whatever means necessary.

"Alright, now where were we?” He says once Mike is back in his seat beside Will, “Ah yes, you all watch in horror as the vampire spawn, hastened, dash away from you all with the unconscious, but still alive, body of Sir William the Wizened." Before anyone can restart the shouting, and he knows there will be shouting now that they’ve all had a chance to look over their notes and their character sheets, he barrels on. “From the hill behind you comes a shot. An arrow flies, thwip thwip. It slices between you all, before sinking into the back of one of the spawn at the back of the pack. He stumbles to the ground and the rest of the pack leave him to die.”

“We can interrogate him!” 

“Worry about who’s behind us, dude.”

He doesn’t let Mike or Dustin derail him, Eddie continues, “As you turn the hill behind you is nothing but mist. You all know the range of an elven bow, but whoever fired it is nowhere to be seen. You wait, breath held, as a figure all in black slowly approaches. You get the feeling you see him now only because he wants to be seen.

“Will, describe your new character for us!”

[strawberryspence]

you're beautiful (every little piece, love)

Steve Harrington would do anything for the kids. Anything.

Apparently that includes shaving his hair.

-

Excerpt:

It’s always a running joke, who is Steve’s favorite child? Robin and Nancy always joke that his favorite is Dustin or Max. Eddie says it’s definitely El.

The truth is Steve can’t choose, won’t ever choose. Gun to his head, he’d rather die than choose. He thinks he’ll love all of them differently but equally with the same intensity as the burning sun.

Keep Reading

[orangesunsets12]

Steve: In school, we learned about about this scientist who trained dogs to salivate at the sound of a bell. In all the things I learned in school, that lesson stuck with me. So, I've been conducting a similar experiment. Cue to Steve handing the kids a piece of candy as soon as they get buckled in when he drives them anywhere, because safety is important, even with him driving. This occurs for weeks. Finally, Steve runs out of candy, and he is left with a howling Dustin who is begging for the reward he always got. Dustin: I buckled in, Steve! I'm safe! Why can't I have candy? I did exactly what you've been wanting! You're a horrible babysitter, you know that? I've been good, I deserve it! I'm as safe as safe can be! See, I'm buckled in! See? Steve: *buys more candy the next day* I don't really know if the experiment worked or not, but whatever happened keeps my kids safe, so I'm happy.

[moondoorssqueen]

Obsessed with the posts about Steve comforting The Party after Eddie introduces DnD monsters they’ve “encountered” and now I’m just thinking about a scenario pre-s4 where maybe one of the kids mentioned in front of Steve that there was a demogorgon or a mindflayer or whatever in Eddie’s campaign and how it freaked them all out but they didn’t want to say anything to Eddie because they didn’t want him to think they were babies who couldn’t handle “scary monsters” and Steve ends up having Nancy sneak him Mikes copy of the monster manual and makes a list of every monster that even vaguely resembles something from the upside-down that they’ve encountered and then “runs into” Eddie somewhere just to make vague threats that if he ever so much as /hears/ that Eddie is including any of them in a campaign with “his kids” that Steve will prove that the rumors about his lack of fighting skills were greatly exaggerated, while Eddie is just looking over this list like “why the fuck does Steve Harrington know what any of these monsters are????????”

[ikarakie]

after eddie introduces a demogorgon to one of his hellfire campaigns, the kids get a little squirmy. they're nervously looking at each other and aren't engaging as excitedly as they usually do. when he calls time, he watches dustin rummage through his backpack and produce a walkie talkie.

he watches, a bit dumbfounded, as the kid demands a 'check-in'. all at once, multiple different voices come over the channel. stating a name and then saying 'safe.' ("nancy, safe." "robin, safe." "max, safe.")

"steve?" dustin demands. there's only static. "steve!" a little more frantic this time.

"he left to pick you up." a female voice replies, "he's probably fine. you'll see him soon."

none of the kids look particularly pleased, and pack up hastily. eddie and the other hellfire members all share confused glances. he, more morbidly curious than anything else, follows the little sheep as they hurry out of the school.

dustin is fucking restless as they all stand in the empty parking lot. he won't stay still and none of them are answering any of eddie's questions. and he only gets more confused when a brown beemer pulls in, windows down and playing depeche mode through the speakers. dustin goes to sprint towards it, and he has to hold him by the collar to stop him getting run over.

the beemer pulls up and steve harrington, in all his glory, steps out, frowning. dustin wrenches out of eddie's grip and all but bodies the guy, wrapping arms tightly around his midsection. steve, still looking puzzled, hugs back. lucas and mike trail after dustin.

"we called a check-in." dustin says, a bit muffled from where his face is smushed into steve's shirt. steve goes sort of pale, and- and presses a goddamn kiss to the top of henderson's head before tightening the hug.

"shit, i'm sorry." and eddie believes him. he sounds so guilty. "i meant to replace the batteries before i left. sorry, i'm okay." dustin pulls back and scrubs at his eyes. lucas takes his place, though the hug he gives is more like one of those bro-hugs jocks seem to love. steve smiles regardless. he just ruffles mike's hair, who pouts in response but looks relieved nonetheless.

"asshole." he mutters. "rule four, walkies on at all times." steve nods as the kid half-heartedly waves goodbye to eddie and hops in the backseat of the beemer. lucas follows. dustin seems reluctant to walk around the car, to take his eyes off steve for even a second.

"you wanna stay over tonight?" steve asks, warm and gentle. he folds his arms and in that moment eddie thinks they look sort of like brothers. "robin and me were gonna watch some films. we can call your mom from mine."

the kid nods, looking a bit happier. steve slaps him on the back and motions him to get in the car. dustin swivels to hug and say goodbye to eddie (who sort of forgot he was physically present in this moment) before doing as he was told.

steve turns to eddie. which- whew! hi pretty eyes.

"sorry." he smiles and eddie can't for the life of him figure out what he's apologising for. "they, uh- yeah. them." he gestures vaguely at the car and eddie just chuckles.

"hey, man, no worries." he says, a little breathless that he's having a conversation with the steve harrington. "they okay? never seen henderson look so rattled." steve nods, then seems to think better of it and just shrugs. cocks his hip to the side (stop fucking staring at his hips, munson, lord!)

"they will be." he glances back at the beemer, which is now full of childish bickering. pauses to think and then asks, "you using demogorgons in your campaign right now?"

eddie blinks at him. "yes? yeah. what the fuck- how do you know what that is? what-" steve just laughs.

"long story." there's a haunted look in his eyes before he continues, "just, uh- that's probably what upset them. demogorgons and us- them, i mean-" he waves his hand. "bad memories. hard to explain, but... if you could..." he doesn't need to ask, seems like he doesn't know how or even if he's allowed.

"got it, ill tweak the campaign." harrington smiles at him, something small and genuine, and murmurs a thanks. offers him a fucking lift, which eddie declines, motioning to his van. harrington just nods, tells him to get home safe and then clambers back into the car, yells at the kids to put seatbelts on with all the exasperation of a single dad, and pulls away.

eddie watches them go, having seen a side of harrington he'd thought dustin had been lying about. steve harrington, the caring babysitter, everyone's older brother, a changed man.

he starts escorting the kids to the parking lot more often.

[jeysuso]

#look at this fucking doe-eyed bitch i can’t stand him

[artaxlivs]

Let Me Be Your Man (I want to hold your hand)

CW: none * Rating: Mature (frottage) * Pairing: Steve/Eddie * Prompt: Mixtape

“Okay! Okay! I’m coming!” Steve yells when the pounding on his door gains momentum to add to its volume. Grumbling, he peeks out the side window and sees one of the kid’s bikes thrown down in his lawn. Little assholes. 

When he yanks the door open, Mike Wheeler is just raising his fist to pound it against the door again. “I need your help.” His face is red and sweaty with exertion as he shoves past Steve into the house. 

Immediately, Steve reaches into the umbrella stand and pulls out the only thing in it - his nail bat. “What’s happening?” He asks, rounding toward Mike, “Why didn’t you radio or call? What is it? Vecna? Jocks? Where’s everyone else?”

Mike skids to a halt and stares at Steve incredulously. “What? No. Put your bat away, dumbass.” He rolls his eyes. “I need your help.”

Relaxing just a small amount, Steve lets the top of the bat rest on the entryway floor. He probably looks as confused as he feels. “What? Why are you saying it like that? What kind of help?”

Mike huffs, throws his hands up and spins on his heel, stalking into the kitchen. Before Steve follows, he counts to ten, puts his bat away and curses the day he started dating Nancy Wheeler. Always the goddamn babysitter.

At the breakfast counter, Mike is deflating, shoulders drooping in what looks like defeat, chin braced in one hand, elbow pressed against the cool tile. With the other hand he’s tracing the lines of grout between the tiles.

On a whim, Steve detours to the fridge, loading up his arms with the makings for sandwiches. Back at the counter, he pulls out four slices of Wonderbread. “So - what brings you to my door?” He shakes the mayo and Mike nods so he starts to slather it on two of the pieces. Mike nods again to the mustard so Steve slathers that on the other two. Giving Mike the time to gather his thoughts.

“Um, well…I, uh, I like someone.” Mike sighs, looking down at the tile where he’s still tracing the lines. 

Someone not a girl. Someone. Will. It’s gotta be Will. Steve has seen the way that they both look at each other when the other isn’t looking. He and Robin have talked about it, about which one to approach first to let them into their elite Hawkins Gay Club which currently has two members. Not one and a half, Robin. Being bisexual still means he’s a whole gay. Dang it.

“Cheese?” Steve asks, peeling his own out of the Kraft plastic wrap. When Mike nods, Steve pulls out a second one for him. “Turkey or ham?” He pops open both and proceeds to put both on his own sandwich.

“Both, please.” Mike says and then jumps down, well, steps down because his gangly legs are much longer now. He goes over and grabs the salt and pepper from the back of the stove lip and sprinkles some of each on his, raises an eyebrow and when Steve nods, he sprinkles them on Steve’s as well.

Fancy.

“You want lettuce and tomato?” Steve says, slicing his own. Mike does not, he does go into the pantry and grab a bag of chips though because the kids are way too comfortable in Steve’s house apparently. 

“I need your help making a mixtape.” Mike says as sits back down.

Steve frowns. “Why are you here for a mixtape and not at Eddie’s? He’s the music guy.” And really - that’s a no brainer.

Groaning, Mike flops his head down his folded arms on the counter, narrowly missing the bag of chips. “Eddie cannot be trusted to make mixtapes. I was there for four hours, Steve. FOUR HOURS. And all I got was a lesson on ‘real metal versus sell out metal.’” He groans again. “He was so excited to help me but then we just recorded an hour of Black Sabbath songs. W- this person doesn’t even like metal!”

“Well, you’ve come to the right place.” Steve gives Mike an encouraging smile as he cuts their sandwiches in half diagonally. Who cuts sandwiches across the middle? Vecna probably. Monster. “Mixtapes aren’t just about your favorite songs or even their favorite songs. It’s songs that you want to share with them and songs that remind you of them. And, of course, songs that tell them how you feel about them.” He plates both sandwiches and slides Mike’s across the bar. “It helps to know who the person is because mixtapes should be personalized but as long as you know their music, I can probably help you.”

Chewing the first bite slowly, Mike nods like he’s agreeing or gearing up to talk. Steve grabs them each a soda out of the fridge, sliding Mike’s over and taking the bag of chips. “My sister really loved the one you made for her. Well,” He reaches into the chip bag and pulls out a handful before pushing the bag toward Steve, “she still does actually. She plays it sometimes.”

Steve stops with his hand half inside the bag, “She does?”

“Yeaaaah.” Mike drags it out, putting a chip in his mouth but then talking around it. “She said it was the tape that made her realize she needed to break up with you.” Steve makes a little grunt of outrage but Mike pushes through, waving his hand to stop Steve from interrupting. “No, no, she loves that tape. Seriously. She said that listening to it made her realize that you’re the kind of guy who loves forever. But that you loved this girl she made up, she was pretending to be, even though she knew she’d never be that girl again…not after…you know.” He shrugs his bony shoulders and looks down at the counter again.

Without thinking about it, Steve’s eyes flick up to look out of the kitchen window where he can see the corner of the pool. He nods, saying dejectedly, “Yeah, I get that.” 

“And sometimes, when Jonathan is being Jonathan, she listens to it to remind her that you saw her as strong and brave - that’s what she said, strong and brave - before she even saw herself that way.” Mike opens his sandwich and puts down a layer of chips on top of the meat, squishing the top slice of bread back down before taking a bite. These kids are such weirdos. With his mouth full, he continues, “She said it reminds her that she doesn’t need Jonathon. Or any man. That she won’t settle for a life she doesn’t want. Not even for a guy like you.”

“Huh.” Steve replies, taking another bite of his own sandwich, chewing thoughtfully. “A guy like me?” 

Rolling his eyes, Mike makes a sound like he’s tasted something bad and says, “Yeah, don’t get a big head. You still suck.”

Steve snorts. The audacity of this kid is truly admirable. He’s still not sure that makes him feel better but Nancy deserves to get what she wants so he can be happy for her. Even if his tape is part of what drove her away. He shakes it off, though, “Okay, so what type of music does this person like?”

They spend the rest of the afternoon and well into the evening going through the tapes and albums Steve has and making a list of the ones that Mike has that he thinks might work. Then they pair them down to make an album that flows, “like a story” Steve tells him. The playlist has a song by Bowie because really every playlist should. One from The Smiths because Steve knows Will loves them even though he doesn’t mention that part to Mike. Mike picks the one metal song that Eddie suggested that he thought made sense, they all sound alike to Steve so he doesn’t pay attention to which one it is. The others are sprinkles of songs both boys have shared memories about.

“It’s really the last song that matters,” he tells Mike. “You’ve laid the groundwork for blending your stories together and that last song is the one you have to be brave with. The words matter. That’s the song where you say what you wanna say. Even if it’s the scariest thing you’ve ever done.”

Mike nods slowly, like he’s really focusing on the meaning behind Steve’s words.

The last song, after the Mike and Will songs, after it’s clear that this is a story of the two of them together , is “I Want to Hold Your Hand,” by the Beatles. It’s the only song like it on the whole tape so it stands out clearly. It’s a love song without being slow and romantic. It’s honest. And it says, “let me be your man.” So there are no wrong pronouns. Again, Steve doesn’t mention it. 

After running by the Wheeler’s to pick up a few of Mike’s tapes, they pull by the trailer park and Mike runs in to borrow the one that Eddie suggested. At the trailer door, Eddie looks over at Steve waiting in his car and gives him a head nod. Smiling fondly, Steve wonders if those two know how dorky they look in their matching Hellfire shirts and cut off jeans, if Eddie is aware that Mike is trying very hard to be as cool as he thinks Eddie is. Probably not. Eddie is pretty oblivious. 

Case in point, Steve’s been hitting on him for weeks with not a single sign that Eddie is aware of it at all.

Maybe Steve should make him a mixtape. He gives a little finger wave that Eddie returns, looking thoughtful as Mike lopes back to the car with his goofily long arms and legs flailing and throws himself into the passenger seat. Steve backs out and drives away, watching Eddie get smaller and smaller in the rearview.

Steve picks them up burgers on the way back to his house and then they lay on his floor next to his big fancy stereo, recording the songs in order, from tape to tape. When they get to the Beatles song, Steve makes an excuse about cleaning up the kitchen and leaves Mike with the tape insert and a pen. 

When he comes back, Mike’s folding a piece of notebook paper and tucking it inside the case as well. He must have had a lot to say. His eyes are a little red rimmed but Steve pretends not to notice of course.

In the Wheeler driveway, after he helps Mike dislodge his bike from where they half tucked it into the Bimmer trunk and just let the lid sit on it because it doesn’t actually fit all the way, Steve leans against the car with his arms and ankles crossed, trying to look as relaxed as he can. He wants to say something, let Mike know he’s a safe person to talk to. That they’re alike. He’s not sure how to without scaring him, though.

“Uh…thanks for this, man.” Mike snorts a laugh and gives that snotty side smile of his, “Maybe Dustin’s right about you.”

Steve grins, “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.” He nods solemnly, “You don’t totally suck.” But then he grins back all cocksure like the almost sixteen year old that he is.

Scoffing, Steve kicks out and hits one of Mike’s bike tires with his shoe, “Thanks, asshole.” Pushing off the car, he starts to turn away but then, “Hey, if it’s who I think it is, you can talk to me - I…I get it. Understand?” He makes sure he catches Mike’s eye so the kid can’t look down and away like he usually does. Steve sees the flash of fear but it’s quickly replaced with hope, maybe even trust.

Mike just nods and Steve gets out of there before he embarrasses the poor kid again. On his drive home, he rolls the windows down, turns his car radio up too loud and sings along, uncaring that he’s probably out of tune. 

Steve’s been home for maybe an hour when someone knocks on his door again. There’s less noise this time but it’s still just solid pounding without giving him the chance to get to the door. Everyone he knows is an asshole apparently.

“Alright, alright, keep it in your–” He yanks open the door and finds Eddie standing there still wearing his ripped cutoffs and his Hellfire shirt. Well, the version two that he designed for the club when he handed it down after graduation. “-pants.”

Eddie smiles, sly and flirty, “You sure?”

Steve rolls his eyes, “What are you gonna do when I call your bluff someday?” Because although Steve has been honestly flirting with Eddie, Eddie’s just been over the top hitting on Steve with innuendos and double entendres that don’t mean anything serious. Well, Steve can’t tell if they mean anything serious at least.

Which is part of why Steve hasn’t at least tried to make a move.

“We’ll see when that day comes I guess.” Eddie leans in and taps on Steve’s chest with the tip of his pointer finger. “I made you something Big Boy.”

There’s a circle of burning fire in the spot where Eddie’s finger was. His touches always seem to leave flames in their wake. Steve wonders if Eddie feels them, too “Is it dinner? Because I already ate with Baby Wheeler.”

“Nope.” Eddie drags out the “p” making a popping sound. “Baby Wheeler mentioned you were helping him with his mixtape - said you were some kind of expert.”

Scratching the back of his neck, Steve nods, admitting, “I don’t know about expert. Sorry, though, didn’t mean to step on your toes.”

“No, no, it’s cool.” Eddie leans his shoulder against the door jamb which is weird because he’s usually pushed past Steve to make himself at home by this point. Or Steve has invited him in. But they’re just standing here in the open doorway. “Besides - Wheeler informed me that I suck at mixtapes. Something about telling a story and not shoving metal down people’s throats.”

Steve crosses his arms defensively, “Don’t take it personally. You’re great at dragon stories. Gotta leave something for the rest of us to be good at.” He’s looking down so he misses the expression that accompanies the scoff Eddie gives but it sounds exasperated.

“Well.” Eddie says, bringing Steve’s eyes back up to him as he pulls a cassette tape out of his vest pocket. “Anyway, here.”

It shouldn’t make him feel the way it does. But it does. Steve’s heart flutters and his stomach swoops and the finger that brushes Eddie’s as he takes the tape feels like it’s charged with lightning. He’s still not sure, though, it could be that kind or it could just be Eddie trying to prove that metal is the best.

Before he can stop himself, he asks, “You made me a mixtape?” And the hopefulness in his voice is as clear as day. But then it’s met with a look in Eddie’s eyes - fear, denial, like he wants to take it back, so Steve pivots, teasing, “Is it an hour of metal? Did you do a voice over?”

Rolling his eyes and stuffing his hands into his vest pockets, Eddie hisses, “No. Jerk.”

After a moment of indecision, Steve asks hesitantly, “Do you..do you wanna listen to it together?”

There’s fear in Eddie’s eyes again and he takes a wary step back, “Uh - no. No, that wouldn’t be a great idea.” He swings his arms, snapping and bringing the flat of one hand against the curled first of the other before pointing finger guns at Steve. It’s so horribly awkward that Steve is filled with hope again. “Uh, yeah, it’s, um, it’s just for you, man.” He’s clearly nervous and waves of anxious energy are almost rolling off of him as he spins and walks away, throwing a confident, “See ya Harrington!” over his shoulder but Steve’s not fooled at all. 

“Oh you will, Munson.” Steve calls after him, slow smile growing when Eddie’s shoulder’s visibly hunch before he leaps into his van and pulls away, tires practically squealing with the force of him gunning it. 

Huh. Interesting.

Closing the door, Steve goes over to the phone on the entryway table where he leaves his keys and Family Video vest every night. He dials and after two rings, Robin picks up, “Thank you for calling Family-oh damn it, I mean, hello?”

“You’re such a mess.” Steve snorts.

“Fuck you Harrington, you’re such a mess!” She whisper shouts, because if her dad hears her cussing, she'll be grounded until she leaves for college.

“I didn’t say I wasn’t.” Steve assures her. “But listen - Mike came over earlier–”

“Mike?!” She actually shouts this time. “Is there a Code Red? What happened? Why didn’t you call me?” There’s the distinct sound of her rolling off of her bed and scrambling for shoes or clothes.

“Calm down, you ninny.” He sighs. “We are scarily alike.”

“Duh.” Then she makes an oof sound as she flops back onto her bed.

“I thought the same thing because when does Mike ever willingly talk to me?” 

“Like, never. Unless it’s to make fun of you – ohhh wait, did he come to talk about Will?” She squees. “Did the baby gay come to get advice from his babysitter?”

Steve laughs, switching the phone to his other ear and sitting down on the carpeted stairs. He should have made this call from his bedroom where he could have laid on his bed, too late now. “Sort of? He asked for my help making a mixtape for ‘someone’ but didn’t tell me who and I didn’t out him by asking but when I dropped him off at home, I hinted that I knew and he could talk to me.”

“Ohhhh Steve, that’s so adorable. If I remotely liked any of your children, I’d be touched.” She straight out lies because they all know she adores Max like a little partner in crime. “Why you though? Why not Eddie?”

“That’s what I said!” He laughs and then dives into telling her the whole story. Eddie’s metal sell out lesson, the hours of pouring over music, Nancy’s love of his mixtape that he made for her back in high school. She comments and laughs at all the right places because they are of one mind, as always. Then though, then, he drops the bomb.

“So, the reason I’m calling is because Eddie showed up at my door. With a mixtape. For me. And he declined my offer to listen to it together.” Steve twists the cord around his finger, waiting until the skin turns red before unwinding it.

“Oh my god! What’s on it?” She shouts, “And why didn’t you lead with that?”

“I don’t know what’s on it. I haven’t listened to it yet.”

“Why not, you dingus?!” Robin screeches then she adds in a subdued tone, “Do you think…?” 

In an equally subdued tone he replies, “I don’t know. I think that’s why I called you first. I’m a little scared to get my hopes up.”

She makes a little noise of agreement. She’s been there.

“And I just…I’m not his type at all. And I know that. But he’s so…” Steve sighs and lays back on the stairs awkwardly, it’s not comfortable at all but it’s keeping him focused. “He’s loud and brash and annoying and I like that because I’m not. But he’s also sweet and squishy and brave and so fucking funny. Argh.”

“And you already got your hopes up when he dropped it off and you don’t want to be disappointed?” Robin asks gently because she really does know him so well.

“Yeah,” he tells her in a hushed voice. “His face when he handed it over, Rob. He was nervous. And then he practically ran away.”

“Well, idiot, you won’t know until you listen.” She says matter-of-factly and he can almost hear her brushing off her hands and standing up. “Buck up. You want me to come over and listen to it with you?”

“Nah. I want to hear it the first time on my own.” That way he can cry before he has to face her if that’s where this is going. “I’ll call you if I need you, though, k?”

“You know I’m always here for you.”

He does.

After they hang up, Steve doesn’t waste anymore time. He doesn’t want to give himself any time to think so he heads into the living room and pops it into the tape deck he and Mike had just recorded ‘someone’s’ tape on. Laying back on the floor he lets the first song play. 

He doesn’t recognize the first chords but the recording itself is kinda fuzzy, like it’s a live version of something. It’s an acoustic guitar, slow but building. When the voice comes in, Steve sits up and turns toward the speaker. It’s Eddie.

I was always trapped. Drowning in this small town, Dragged down by small minds To the bottom of the lake. Spent most of my days  on the run from myself. Running from the me I wasn’t ready to be. Trapped in this small town  with these small minds. That is, until you. Until there was you. You stood your ground. Stood up for mine, too. And I never ran as fast  as I did to you.

There’s a guitar break. It’s beautiful, simple, a slow melody that builds with Eddie’s voice almost trembling when it comes back in.

You’re the boy The boy who stops the world. Stops it from spinning Out of my reach. I want to run to you. But we’re stuck in this town With these small minds, That drag us down. I just wanna be free Free to love you. I only wanna run If you’ll catch me.  In this small town In this small town

The song fades out and there’s the sound of Eddie’s breathing, it catches like he’s going to say something but then exhales and the recording clicks off. Steve speeds through the tape and flips it over and does the same to the other side. The rest of it is empty. He plays the song again. Listening with his eyes closed this time.

Then he jumps up, ejects the tape, grabs his keys and fumbles with the lock on the way out. He doesn’t let himself think. Just plays the song over and over for the fifteen minute drive to the trailer park. All the lights in the trailer are on and the music in Eddie’s room is blaring loud enough that Steve can hear it in his car with his own music still on.

He still doesn’t stop to think, just rushes out of the car and up the steps to pound on the door and when Eddie opens it with wide eyes and a healthy dose of fear on his face, Steve thinks for a second that he should say something, confirm that it’s a song written for him - about them both - but he can’t. Or he’ll chicken out. 

So, instead, he just steps into the trailer, forcing Eddie to take a step back, pushes the door shut behind him and whispers, “Too many small minds out there.” And kisses Eddie. 

It’s a good kiss too. Steve cradles Eddie’s head and tilts him just enough that he can get the perfect angle to …what’s the word in all those trashy books? Ravish. Steve ravishes Eddie’s mouth. It’s not sweet, it’s desperate and filled with need and when he finally lets go, Eddie’ lips are swollen and kiss bitten.

“I hope that song was telling me you like me or this is going to be a very awkward conversation.” Steve says when Eddie’s eyes flutter open.

“I’d have made you a whole mixtape but Wheeler told me this afternoon that the final song is the one that really matters.” Eddie grins then, wide and impish, swooping in to catch Steve’s mouth with his own. When he comes up for air, he whispers, “Besides, where was I gonna get an hour of ABBA songs?”

Growling, Steve walks Eddie backwards until the backs of his knees hit the couch and he sits. “I’m more of a Springsteen fan, actually.” He says as he climbs into Eddie’s lap and swoops down for a kiss.

It’s frenzied and graceless, like the two desperate kids they still are. Neither of them old enough to buy a six pack of beer and both overflowing with the sexual tension they’ve built up between them. Steve can’t seem to stop kissing Eddie long enough to do anything more than grind himself down against Eddie’s lap. 

Luckily, Steve’s been in his old basketball shorts all day and Eddie changed into sweats sometime after he’d gotten home so there’s nothing but a few layers of cotton between their rock hard boners. 

Jesus, it feels like the first time Steve dry humped with some girl back in freshman year. But like, a thousand times better. Not just because they both have dicks but because it’s Eddie .

He rolls his hips, brushing their aforementioned dicks together and swallows Eddie’s groan. Eddie’s hands are on Steve’s hips, guiding him as he rolls them, flexing his hands around the softness there. When Steve moans into Eddie’s mouth, Eddie’s hands slip around and squeeze his ass, cupping it and helping him press their laps together. One of them whines as their dicks slot together just right and they both thrust against each other. 

“Stevie, fuck. Yes,” Eddie swears, “Don’t stop, please don’t stop.” Then his tongue is back in Steve’s mouth, sliding along Steve’s, sucking on his bottom lip. He licks and nips and bites his way down Steve’s throat, probably leaving bruises and Steve should care about that but he doesn’t.

“Eddie, Eddie - I need,” It’s too fast, Steve knows he can last so much longer than this but he can’t seem to slow down. “Oh, god.”

“What, Stevie?” Eddie manages between grunts as they rut against each other desperately, “What do you need?”

Oh god, he’s almost there, Steve feels the warmth pooling in his belly, the muscles in his legs straining, the droplets of precome sticking to his underwear and Eddie’s hard cock pushing against the length of his own as he cries, “You, fuck, just you.” And then he comes, arching and fucking against Eddie. One hand buried in the hair at Eddie’s nape and the other digging his fingernails into Eddie’s shoulder.

Eddie pulls Steve tight to his chest, one hand around his back, holding Steve close while he comes. Eddie’s still thrusting against Steve, rolling and pressing with his hips until he, too, arches and comes with a hoarse shout.

When Eddie relaxes back against the couch, Steve collapses in his lap, head resting on Eddie's shoulder, breath hot against his collarbone. Both fucked out and exhausted.

Minutes later, once the aftershocks have subsided for both of them and Steve’s sweaty forehead is pressed into the side of Eddie’s sweaty neck, Steve admits, “Fine, I like ABBA but who doesn’t? Those songs are catchy.”

Eddie snorts a laugh out. Then, it's a little gross, but they both start laughing and have to peel their damp crotches away from each other. Totally worth it, though, when Eddie brings Steve's hand up to his mouth, kissing the palm before he threads their fingers together so he can hold Steve's hand.

Thanks to @thefreakandthehair for hosting this challenge! It was super fun and I'm so glad I actually made it in under the deadline. Skin of my teeth!

Here's the Ao3 link if you want to drop me some love there - comments make my brain buzz and I'd love to hear your thoughts on the perfect Mike/Will or Steve/Eddie mixtape playlist!

[kennahjune]

Teen Dad AU

Part 6!!!

@cam-cat-writer @jackiemonroe5512 @finntheehumaneater @irregular-child @grimmfitzz @fantrash @bookworm0690 @fiddledeedee85 @hunterbow04 @strangeforest @just-a-tiny-void @jaimeweasley13 @thelittleclare @rebellatio-03 @sirsnacksalot @geekyfifi @sapphireoceansoc @salty-h0e @dragonmama76 @mentallyundone-blog @lingeringmirth @moomkin77 @netflixisacopingstrategymom @jaytriesstuff @goodolefashionedloverboi @hellfirebaby-86 @blu3stars @blackpanzy @strawberryyyenthusiast @lololol-1234 @thestarslittleking @silenzioperso @forest-fogg @bebopbabyy @lawrencebshaggoth @stevesbipanic @dauntlessdiva @live0rdive @y4r3luv @jonesn4coffee @sofadofax @sensationalsunburst @scarlet-malfoy @l393ndjean @asspirin-s @fandomz-brainrot @mugloversonly @virginlemontea @littlebluejane @paintsplatteredandimperfect @astrid-nomically-steddie @maferisa-7 @phantomrose17 @thoughtfulbreadpolice @fandomnerd103 @atemisiscursed @croatoan-like-its-hot @myownworstenemyyy

(Sorry to anyone who’s tags are messing up, I’ll try tagging you in the replies when posted)

.

The Universe had a strange way of making Steve Harrington hate Life.

Like waking up in a hospital after simply trying to pick up Louie.

Ugh.

Because it was never “simply” anything anymore, right? Now it was monsters and other dimensions and asshole blonds with pretty eyes who liked to beat him half to death.

Oh. And a bunch of mouthy middle schoolers.

“Dude, you up yet?”

“Give him a minute, Mike! He was literally half-dead not even yesterday!”

“Well if he keeps groaning like a zombie I’m gonna assume he’s become one!”

Steve found his voice, although crackly and rough from disuse, just to say “Shut the fuck up.”

“He’s alive!” One of them shouted instead.

Steve peeled his eyes open and immediately groaned at the harsh lights. Blinking against the stark white hospital walls, he turned his head to look at the kids piled in the chairs of the room.

Max and Lucas were squished together in one chair, Mike and Will taking the second. Baby Byers must’ve already been let out. Dustin was sat cross-legged at the foot of Steve’s hospital bed, that El girl right next to him. Steve felt like he was in the middle of an interrogation with how she stared him down.

Steve sat up, ignoring every bodily protest telling him to lay the fuck back down. Dustin grinned wide at Steve, and Steve gave him a very weak smile in return.

“So are you actually alive, now? Cause you still look half-dead,” Max teased, smirking at him. Steve rolled his eyes and flipped her off, snorting when she gave it right back.

“Yay he’s alive wooo!” Mike snarked sarcastically.

Steve huffed, but Mike reminded him of Nancy which then reminded him of how he got dragged into this shit when then reminded him of—

“Fucking shit,” he swore under his breath.

“Are you ok? Do we need to called the nurse?” Will asked tentatively. All the kids suddenly looked on edge at Steve’s perceived pain.

He shook his head quickly and then immediately winced. It felt like his brain was jumping around his skull. “No, no I’m fine. Just— Wheeler where’s your sister?”

Mike stared at him funny. “Dude there is no way you’re thinking of my sister after climbing out of your deathbed.”

“What? Of fucking course I am! She was watching Louie and I never got chance to pick him up or ask her about him—“

“Whoah hey— who’s Louie?” Lucas spoke up.

“He’s—“

“Oh!” Dustin perked up. “Is he the baby my mom’s watching? Little chubby thing that looks like a cute little raisin? He’s got your hair, dude!”

Steve visibly relaxed back into his pillows. “Oh my God. Ok. Ok.” It was fine. Louie was fine. Everything was fine—

“Oh the kid Nancy’s been watching?” Mike perked up. “He’s real cute.”

“Is he your little brother?” Will asked.

Steve was steadying his breathing still, so he shook his head and smiled weakly. “No. No he’s, uh— my son.”

El tilted her head. “You are his Papa?”

Steve looked at her, really took her in; her curly hair, her worn and a little too big button up, her curious head tilt, her big eyes. He smiled at her. “Yeah, sure.”

She smiled back at him, small and shy.

“You have a kid?” Lucas asked.

“Aren’t you like— 15?” Dustin accused.

“He’s like 18.” Max corrected. “He and Billy are in the same grade.”

“17, actually.” Steve informed. “But I’ll be 18 in July.”

“Who’s the mom?” Mike asked.

“Nobody you need to know,” Steve shot back. Mike huffed.

“Why was he at Mike’s?” Will asked. The kid was quiet, much like his older brother. Baby Byers only spoke up after talking to Mike, as if needing reassurance. A massive pang of guilt ran though Steve, remembering all the shit he’d said to Jonathan last year.

Steve cleared his throat. “Nancy was watching him for me for a bit cause I had work.”

Dustin perked up, grinning mischievously. “Where do you work?”

“Yeah, no. You’re not coming by to harass me.”

“Booooo!” Max shouted.

“Party pooper!” Lucas joined, sticking his tongue out. El grinned and stuck her tongue out, too.

It was then that the nurse walked in with Hopper and Mrs. Byers.

Thank God. Because it was seriously starting to feel like an interrogation.

.

Hopper stole his car.

He stole Steve’s car and refused to let him drive it.

Steve was discharged later the same day he woke up. They gave him some medicine, some papers, and sent him on his way.

But he couldn’t leave because Hopper stole his car.

And then forced Steve to sit in the passenger seat of his stolen car.

Steve had never sat in the passenger seat of his own car.

“Stop huffing and puffing.” Hopper grumbled.

“I’m not huffing and puffing.” Steve (didn’t) huffed.

“Then quit sulking.”

“It’s my own car,I’ll sulk if I want to.”

“You get beat half to death and suddenly gain an attitude.”

Steve smirked out the window. “You and I both know I’ve always had an attitude.”

Hopper made a gruff sound that could’ve been a laugh, probably thinking of every time he’d had to break up one of Steve’s parties or drive him home cause he’d been wandering around drunk off his ass.

Steve perked up when they skipped the turn to go the trailer park.

“Uh, Hop? Where we goin?”

“Relax, brat. Your kid’s still with the Hendersons.”

Oh yeah. Maybe he was more out of it then he thought. Steve relaxed back into the seat a bit more than before.

“Still don’t see why I couldn’t just drive myself,” he muttered, just to be a shit.

Hopper groaned.

.

When Hop pulled into the Henderson’s driveway Steve wasted no time in getting out. Hopper yelled from somewhere behind him about waiting for the car to stop next time. Steve payed him no mind and ran up the porch stairs to hastily knock on the door.

Mrs. Henderson opened up soon enough, a smile on her face and a hand on her hip.

“Steve, dear, hi!”

Steve smiled shakily down at the short women, pleased to see her but desperate to see Louie.

“Hi, Mrs. H. Is Louie here?”

“Of course, sweetie! He’s with Dusty and his friends, come say hi!” She left back into the house without another word. Steve followed after with Hopper.

Just as Mrs. Henderson claimed, Little Louie was in the living room with The Party. There was a light yellow knitted blanket spread on the floor where they all sat together, except Max and Will, who sat on the couch.

Louie was sat in Mike’s lap, Lucas right in front of them letting Louie play with his fingers. Dustin sat right next to Mike, pressed into his side and cooing down at Louie with a wide grin.

The moment Louie caught sight of his dad he let go of Lucas’ fingers and reached for Steve, bringing the attention of the Brat Brigade onto him.

Steve bent to grab Louie from Mike, his focus solely on his son being back in his arms. Louie babbled happily, his chubby baby hands making grabs for Steve’s hair and tugging lightly. Steve ignored the ache in his head in favor of smiling wide at the babbling baby.

“Hi sweetie, how you doin’ baby?”

Louie’s response was a gummy smile and one of those weird baby gurgle-trills. Steve’s grin only widened.

“Yeah I bet you’re having fun with the brats, huh?”

“Hey!” Dustin scoffed on the floor, pulling Steve’s attention back to the room.

Mike and Lucas were silently pouting, seemingly at the loss of the baby. Dustin looked downright offended at being referred to as a brat. Will and Max were kind of staring at Steve, but he ignored them for the most part outside of shooting them a small smile.

“Oh I’m sorry, did I interrupt your time with Louie?” Steve teased, chuckling at Lucas’ bottom lip sticking out. Mike made more of an effort to hide his pout but wasn’t very effective.

“Yeah, jerk. We were having a conversation.” Mike snapped, though there was no real venom in his tone.

Steve snorted, letting Louie pat at his face and ignoring the sting of the bruises. “I sincerely apologize for taking back my son from you heathens.”

“We’re not heathens!” Dustin protested.

“Yeah right! You kids would be the worst bad influences on my baby boy!”

Louie added his two-cents in the response of a squeal and particularly hard hit to the face, unfortunately right on a still healing cut on Steve’s cheekbone. Steve hissed under his breath.

“Alright—“ Mike suddenly appeared in front of Steve and took Louie. “—he’s ours again.”

Steve chuckled. He melted a little inside seeing Mike hold Louie so tenderly. He was so gentle with the baby, such a stark contrast to his usually loud and brash demeanor.

Dustin and Lucas were both up immediately to get the baby’s attention. Steve smiled as much as he could with the now slightly reopened cut, finally relaxing with seeing Louie.

“So when we’re you going to tell us you were a dad?” Max spoke up from the couch.

Steve glanced at her and placed a hand on his hip. “Who’s ‘we’? I met you like two days ago.”

Max rolled her eyes and brought her feet up to sit crisscross on the couch. “Well Billy hasn’t said anything about Louie so I assume you’re on the down low about being a dad.”

Not really, Steve thought. He just hasn’t brought Louie to school with him since Hargrove started. Mason and Gran had no problems helping out so that he could continue senior year without interruption.

But Steve didn’t tell the kids that, simply nodding and smiling.

.

Mrs. Henderson was reluctant to let Steve leave.

“I mean it, Steve. You have my number, you call me if you need anything at all.” She made him swear.

Dustin was even more reluctant, going as far as to cling to Steve’s sweater.

“You have to give us your address! Come on, man! We wanna see Little Louie!”

So Steve gave in and wrote down the address to the trailer, if only to get Dustin to stop whining. Mike grumbled about how they could’ve just asked Nancy.

Again, Hopper drove. Which absolutely irritated Steve but he wasn’t about to sit and argue with the Chief of police with his baby in the back seat.

But Hopper agreed that Steve could be back to driving himself in the next couple of days— which Steve immediately protested.

How was he meant to get to and from work if he couldn’t drive?

Apparently, Hopper took it upon himself to settle that.

“What do you mean I’m not going to work?”

Hopper grumbled and wiped a hand over his face. Steve might’ve thought he looked pissed, had he not known that’s just Hop’s face.

“I mean you’re mot going to work. I already called your boss, gave them a rundown— the government one with the wild dogs— and she said it’s fine.”

Steve threw his arms out. Was it dramatic? Yes. But Steve deserved to be dramatic after the time he’s had. “I need the money! I fucking live off of those tips, Hop!”

“I know that and I already talked about that, too. You’re still getting paid, don’t worry.” Steve tried to protest again but Hopper gave him this look that made his mouth snap shut. Steve shot his gaze to the floor and crossed his arms.

.

It was a weird 3 days of no work. Steve spent it at home in the trailer with baby Louie and— occasionally— Gran and the twins.

Eventually, it was time for him to go back.

Steve knocked on the Wheeler’s front door bright and early on Saturday, surprised when Mike opened the door instead of Nancy.

“Hey, Wheeler. Where your sister?”

“In the kitchen. Is that Louie?” Mike grabbed the car seat from Steve without waiting for an answer. Steve shrugged mentally and followed Mike into the living room with the diaper bag.

Color him surprised when he sees the rest of the kids sans El crowded around Little Louie, cooing and grinning while the baby thrives in the attention.

Steve smiled.

Yeah, alright. It was admittedly a very sweet sight.

Maybe everyone knowing about Louie isn’t too bad.

.

AGH I DID IT!! OMG ITS OUT

I’m so sorry this took so long LMAO

Fuck mental health, my PHYSICAL HEALTH has gone to absolute shit recently. And I’m also dividing my time between Stranger Things and ATLA atm and it’s taking 200% of my motivation lol

Next part should be longer in length and have more Steddie interactions. I’m finally making some progress 😭🙏

[criminally-obsessed]

STEVE: Dustin just insisted Eddie and I remember a code word in case we’re ever confronted by his clone or a cyborg doppelgänger and we’re not sure which is the real him and which is the imposter. STEVE: Some families have a fire escape plan, but not us.

[augustjustice]

I am gripped by the idea of Kas!Steve.

But specifically...broken Steve, who’s been tortured and tormented and mind-controlled by Vecna, until he’s been sharpened into a weapon, his old King Steve persona pulled on like reshaped armor but now so much worse than Steve himself had ever been.

Kas!Steve who’s cocky and smug, who spews every cruel thought the gang has ever worried he’s had about them, clawing at each one of their insecurities with piercing accuracy. Because he knows them, from years of being friend and confidante. Their beating hearts, their strengths and weaknesses. So he taunts Robin by spilling every precious secret they’ve shared. Mocks Dustin and all the kids for being pathetic and snot-nosed, following in his footsteps like lost puppies. Needles Eddie about how obvious his crush on him is. Tells Nancy it really is their fault, what happened to Barbara all those years ago.

And it’s all so pointed, feels so specific, so...real, the group can’t help the worry that gnaws at each of them (just like Vecna would want), that this is what Steve really thinks.

Even more so when some of his barbs draw attention to the ways they’ve treated him. When Steve laughs at the thought of them overpowering him when for years they’ve been relying on him to be the tank, to take all the hard licks. Do they really think they can take him down? Like this? It’s as comical as it is pathetic, this new, dark Steve, the betrayer, the bloody, tells them, and Dustin sees the way that Nancy flinches, catches Robin’s pained eyes, guilt gripping each of their throats.

The question lingers, even hours after Steve has slunk back into the shadows, another battle they barely scraped out of alive behind them.

How will they do this without Steve?

[formosusiniquis]

intrada (sugar plum holly and her cavalier)

Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson; Steve Harrington & Holly Wheeler; Past Steve Harrington/Nancy Wheeler WC: 5708 | G | Tags/Themes: ballet, references to The Nutcracker, pre-relationship steddie, good babysitter Steve Harrington AO3

It was supposed to be a date that would merge their interests, something that had seemed classy enough for Nancy and athletic enough that Steve thought it would keep his interest. Supposed to be, in that when Steve had gotten the tickets -- begged his mom first for her and his dad’s season ticket seats and then for help finding a good seat when she said she wasn’t about to waste a sixty dollar ticket on a date -- he wasn’t even sure if it was the kind of thing Nancy would like. A year and a half into their relationship and he was only just realizing how surface level their conversations were, either talking about work or treating every conversation like an interview and parceling out information like they were afraid to reveal too much about themselves. So he was really working off of a jewelry box he vaguely remembered from her bedroom when he bought tickets for a ballet that wouldn’t even happen for another five months.

He wanted to have them when she got to Indianapolis, something to look forward to for their first Christmas together in the city. The Nutcracker, a classic supposedly but if anyone would know its cultural significance he figured it would be Nance.

And Steve isn’t an idiot, okay. He knows that Nancy isn’t exactly thrilled to be in Indianapolis, knows that she’s not happy to be at her safety school and not Emerson. Imagines having to wait to see if she made it up the waitlist all summer wasn’t the greatest experience; and he has to imagine because any time he wanted to talk to her about it she blew him off to focus on alternatives and next steps.

That’s why he does it. Hopes that having something to look forward to at the end of her first semester will help. Hopes that this is the first of many Christmases together, maybe a tradition that they can keep up. Going to the ballet together every year until eventually they’re bringing their daughter along with them. Maybe it’s too early to think about kids, but this is the kind of future he prefers to imagine over future careers and what he’s going to do with the degree he’s stumbling his way through. So he thinks about Nancy with pinned back curls in a nice dress humming along to songs they hear every year.

It was supposed to be that. Until it turns out that their relationship really couldn’t withstand being in the same city as one another. Until he’s forced to confront the hindsight that they never really talked about anything significant in the year they were doing long distance. Until Nancy tells him that she’s transferring next semester, and she isn’t interested in doing long distance; that she isn’t interested in continuing their relationship at all.

So Steve resigns himself to just being out the money for the two tickets. It’s not like he’s going to go to a ballet by himself, and it seems shitty to bring another girl to something that he imagined becoming a staple of his romantic future with Nancy. It’s not the first time Steve has cut his losses. (But he’ll die before he tells his mom she was right about not giving him her good seats.)

He honestly kind of forgets about the whole thing. Finals week has just ended. He’s pretty sure he flunked the one actual business course he took this semester to keep his dad happy, and he’s trying to figure out if he can change his major without screwing his whole life up. He’s ready to have a few weeks off. 

Then Karen Wheeler calls.

Karen is a nice lady, though if he’s honest he’s not that upset that she isn’t going to be his future mother-in-law. She’s a little… flighty, as his mother would say with a backhanded smile. He privately thinks she sometimes forgets that she has three kids, losing track of one or the other at any given time. So maybe he shouldn’t be too surprised when she calls him two months after her daughter broke his heart begging him to take Holly to the ballet.

“Nancy mentioned it off hand months ago, and Holly hasn’t stopped talking about it since. I know it’s a big ask,” she had said in a tone that made it very clear she didn’t entirely care and would think poorly of him if he answered the wrong way, “but if you still have those tickets it would mean the world if you could take Holly.” He hadn’t missed the emphasis on the you either. Clearly Karen had no interest in making the trip to Indianapolis and he hadn’t needed to ask about Ted.

He didn't think of himself as a pushover, but he did think of little, blonde, six year old Holly: too quiet and too shy for her age. Fighting to be seen by a negligent dad and a mom who loves her children, but cares about appearances just enough to be blind. And he finds himself saying, “It’s no trouble, Mrs. Wheeler, but could you meet me somewhere halfway?”

It’s not until they’re settled into their seats -- on the floor but in the back, a booth behind them occupied by a pretty boy in a headset that Steve refuses to look at for too long -- that he realizes that he has no idea what this show is even about. Holly has been quiet since he picked her up, the least surprising thing about this trip right above Mike glaring at him from the passenger seat of Karen’s car as he moved Holly’s booster seat, but she’s studiously flipping through the little booklet the usher handed them on their way to their seats.

“Thank you for bringing me, Steve. I’m sorry Nancy didn’t want to come.” It is somehow simultaneously the longest and worst thing Holly has ever said to him.

“I’d rather see it with you, Holly Jolly.”

He’s saved from having to find anything else to say by the lights around them dimming, a prerecorded voice letting them know that any photography is forbidden and to expect a fifteen minute intermission, a bright and bouncing song picks up once the talking stops. He relaxes in his seat a little, relieved to get a few minutes before he’s expected to entertain a six year old that he’s spent more time with today than he had the entire time he and Nancy had dated.

Now Steve, contrary to what he very much knows is the popular opinion, isn’t just a jock. He knows there’s no talking in ballet. He’s even been to one before this, when he was still a cute novelty in his suit and bowtie accompanying his parents to the theater. What he is, according to his old nanny, every teacher he’s ever had, and about half of his exes, is a selective listener. 

It’s not his fault though that his brain instinctively cues into different sounds. The buzz of the light above him louder -- and more interesting -- than a lesson on factorials. The sound of someone’s relationship imploding hard to tune out no matter how interested he is in his own conversation. So of course the sound of someone talking cuts straight through classical music.

“Someone remind David he needs to smile at his partner, he looks like he’s dreaming of a murder suicide.”

And it wasn’t hard to find exactly who the voice behind him was talking about. The only frowning face at this Victorian party who was glaring daggers at the magician who was bringing in new dancers.

“Well he should know better than to sleep around the cast shouldn’t he, Birdie?”

A practiced reader of body language, Steve could almost see, underneath the choreography, the traces of impropriety. David’s undisguised glare. The wistful way the woman in blue tracked him around the stage. The woman in pink who mooned at the woman in blue. It made him wonder what kind of things were going on backstage.

He expects that to be in. He doesn’t really do theater much, too many memories of pinched arms and snarling trips home, but he does remember the one rule is no talking. But it doesn’t stop, barely slows.

“If Mark sets himself on fire doing this stupid firepaper magic shit do we get to go home early?

“Sure, Robbie Bobby, I’ll swap out for the Rat King last show of the run. Jay can do my job and I’ll do his.

“Five bucks someone slips on the snow as they exit.”

He wants to know if that stranger wins the bet but the curtain closes and Holly is shy and asking Steve where the bathroom is. So instead of working up the nerve to turn and talk to the man behind him, he’s smiling his best mom-charming smile and asking the first woman with kids he finds to take his guest into the girl’s room.

By the time she’s out of line, and Steve buys her the doll and the novelty sucker she’d been pretending she wasn’t looking at, they slip back into their seats as the lights dim again. No chance to make his own witty jokes or observations, break the ice and show off some of the Harrington charm.

The first dance goes by with little fanfare and Steve’s almost disappointed. Holly is wiggling excitedly in her seat next to him, clutching her own little nutcracker, and he’s not even paying attention to the stupid show that’s got her so excited because he’s too focused on a snarky stranger he’d only even looked at once.

“Jeezus christ, is Tom stuffing his dance belt? That’s some Bowie level shit happening up there.”

He had almost given up, so it figures the guy decides to speak up once Steve’s attention started to shift back to the stage. He nearly chokes on his own tongue, eyes darting straight down to the issue in question. Holly, the sweetest kid he’s ever met, pats his back softly, hesitantly, like she’s only seen the gesture before. “There’s a water fountain by the bathroom,” she tells him in a library whisper, “I can stay here and not move.”

“I’m okay Hols,” he lies, ignoring the itchy, squeezing feeling at the back of his throat and forcing the cough away.

It’s easy to do when there's something else to focus on, “No, Lizzie, I’m not going to shut up. No one cares if I’m occupying the channel.” The stranger seems to be gearing himself up for a monologue, “I’m not going to miss my cue, I am the cue. Robin’s not going to miss her cue  because it’s to music. Her cue doesn’t exist without me and she knows all of these songs and what note her cue goes with because it’s the eighth fucking time we’ve done it this week. If you or props have something you’ve got to say clearly you can get a word in edgewise.”

A few numbers go by after that, quiet except for the occasional professional, “Light cue, go.”

And then a song he actually sort of recognizes starts. A pretty strawberry blonde with a dainty smile tip toes and spins across the stage to plucked strings. Holly is enchanted, perched at the edge of her seat she reaches a hand over to clutch at Steve’s sleeve. A ‘tell me someone in the world is experiencing this moment with me’ sort of gesture. Awestruck and world rocked, stars in her eyes. Any resentment, any hard feelings that might have still lingered at babysitting evaporated. He got to be the person that let Holly experience this. A moment just for her, no family to take second place for.

The dancer on stage spins, clearing the floor in a series of tight, controlled rotations. Her arms guiding each step, swinging out and pulling her in, the driving force of her momentum. She’s moving fast, it’s an impressive display. Something shoots off in the opposite direction of that controlled turn, almost distracting in its break from that clean motion.

“Tell Props Chris just lost an earring.

“Fine, tell Wardrobe then.

“I’m not being a creep, I know she’s your girlfriend, Birdie. I merely observed her earring launching across the stage like an arrow from an elven bow.”

It’s like catching half of an Abbott and Costello act, like who’s on first being done through a telephone. It’s a strange sort of connection, listening in on a conversation that isn’t meant for him. He thinks for a sad second that he hasn’t ever had a friendship like this.

The show is wrapping up, dancers from scenes past making their way through for quick appearances. Holly is vibrating in her seat. Dancers in intricate costumes glide across the stage to bow toward the petite dancer in the nightgown and the strawberry blonde, Chris, beside her. A few moments later it's finished, the lights rising up around them and he shifts his primary focus back to Holly. 

In the middle of the room, they had the best view of the stage and the longest wait to leave. Steve tries to be subtle as he shifts Holly in front of him, afraid of losing her if she's out of his eyeline. He doesn't want to baby her by making her hold his hand. She's wiggling in place, but she keeps herself small. Careful not to bump into the people slowly moving out of the aisle in front of them. 

“Hols,” he starts to whisper, not wanting to embarrass her before he asks if she needs to hit the bathroom again.

But she grabs his sleeve in a child's iron grip,  "Steve, I want to meet the princess."

It turns out, it's hard to find a way to tell an excited kid that there aren't meet and greets after a show like this. Pleading blue eyes and a nervous smile looking up at him, desperate but scared to ask for too much. The least he can do is try.

The guy behind them is still there. 

The back of their line, Steve isn't holding anyone up by taking a minute to look. He's lithe, all in black. Hair pulled up in a half-assed bun, a headset tangled in the curls. He's wrapping up a thick cord, Steve couldn't guess why, but it draws focus to a toned arm that he's curling it around.

“Hey man,” the booth is a little bit above them, forcing Steve to rise up on the tips of his own toes to make sure he's visible, “I know you're working but I wanted to ask. The girl at the end- I, uh, I overheard you say she's your friend's girlfriend is there anyway you could convince her to come meet us.”

The guy startled a bit, probably surprised at being addressed. If he’s embarrassed at being overheard it barely shows a soft flush that could be from the warmth of the room. "The girl at the end?”

"The princess,” Holly shouts, bouncing up and down to try to see over the lip that blocks her view of the booth.

A change falls over the guy, his smile softens and eyes widen. He carefully drapes himself across the board of buttons and sliders to look Holly in the eyes. "Oh she's even better than a princess, she's a fairy. The sugar plum fairy. Is this your first time seeing the show with your dad?”

“Steve's not my dad.” She tells him with a little giggle, no doubt comparing Steve and Ted in her brain.

“Holly is my ex-girlfriend’s little sister.” He places his emphasis carefully.

“There’s a lot happening in that sentence.”

“Yeah.”

“Well, my Lady Holly, I bet I could convince Chrissy to meet a fan.” He promises with a flourish, “As long as your companion doesn't care that her faithful company will definitely be there the whole time.”

“Are you part of the group?” Steve asks, confident enough in his read of the situation to lay on a bit of charm. Letting his eyes trail down the sprawl of the guy's back. A thrill of victory at the little nod he gets back. “Then I won't mind at all.”

“Rockin’ Robin, tell me you still have your headset on?” He directs into his headset, “Great, remember that favor you and Chris owe me? I've got a fair princess who would like to meet our dear Sugar Plum Fairy.”

There's a lengthy pause. Even without the music playing the response is too quiet to be made out through his headset. “I don't see how that's relevant.” He hisses, “and she didn't ask to see an awful hag so you don't really even need to be there.”

His face clears after a second, looking to Steve like he wants them both to pretend that the earlier conversation hadn't been overheard. “Go through that door at the end of the front row right beside the stage.” The auditorium has cleared out enough he's got a clear view of the door the guy points to. “You'll end up in a hallway with a locked door at the end, wait there.”

“And if someone asks us why we're waiting there?” Steve asks, “I can tell them..?”

“Eddie, I'm- I Eddie Munson told you to wait there, if someone stops you before I get there.”

It's hard not to grin now that he has a name, Eddie, so he doesn’t bother. He puts on his best smile, the boyish and winsome one that always flusters whoever it's directed at, at least a little. Eddie is no exception looking back down at his work quickly. Steve takes a little pity, turning his attention back down to Holly.

She's twisting in place, hands clasped in front of her, as she stares off into space. He feels bad immediately, too familiar with what it's like to be a kid forced to entertain yourself while adults talk above your head.“C’mon, Holly Jolly, let's go wait for your fairy.” 

She takes his hand the second it's offered, swinging it back and forth, humming one of the songs from the show. “Steve, do you think she's a fairy like Tinkerbell or a fairy princess like Barbie?”

“I don't know Hols, what do you think?”

“Tinkerbell is kinda mean to Wendy, but she can do magic and fly. But Barbie is really nice so if she were a fairy she'd be a fairy princess and have a crown and help people.”

“Oh really?”

“Yes! And this fairy looked nice when she was dancing, but it didn't look like she had a crown. Can you be a fairy princess without a crown?”

Holly was buzzing, bouncing in place, clearly over whatever earlier nerves she'd had about talking to him. With her back to the door that they were told to wait by, she’s started listing all the different jobs Barbie has had and why they should make a fairy princess doll -- Karen’s homemade Barbie clothes, he learns, are not as well made as the hand me downs from Erica and Mrs. Sinclair, so she needs the real thing. Holly misses the way the door creaks open, the woman from onstage inching her way out of the half opened exit. 

Chrissy presses a finger to her lips, happy to help her surprise Holly, Steve keeps listening to her talk about why there should be a Barbie movie. He only nearly ruins the surprise when the dancer pushes down on the front of her saucer like skirt and it smacks her in the back as it flies up, letting her exit the back room.

Focused on her story, Holly doesn’t notice as the woman crouches down beside her. Not until she says, “This must be the princess I was told about.”

The screech she lets out is so joyful he almost doesn’t mind that his ears are ringing. Steve finds his smile mirrored on a freckle-faced girl dressed in the same all black as Eddie who is sliding out the door now as well. She sidles up to Steve, letting Holly have her moment with the fairy uninterrupted. “And you must be the prince charming.”

“Shut up, shut up,” Eddie pants, coming to a bent over rest beside Steve, “whatever she’s saying ignore it. Fuck.”

“You jogged like twenty feet,” the girl says, clearly unimpressed.

“Sorry Nancy Reagan, I say yes every time.”

“There are children present, have some class, Munson.”

The child in question could be on another planet, that’s how much she’s aware of their existence, Steve thinks.

“I have class every Monday, Wednesday, Friday; Saturdays are fair game.”

“Oh! That’s why you look so familiar,” the girl says, she’s looking at Steve now but he’s not really sure why. “We were in the same Communications and Public Speaking class, Prince Charming. Steve, right?”

He did have that class last semester, the only one technically tied to the business major his dad wanted him to have that he actually passed. “I, yes- sorry I don’t. I spent most of that class zoned out waiting for my turn to speak.”

“No, yeah, I figured. You sat a row in front of me and always looked shocked when you got called on, then you’d brush your bagel crumbs all over the floor when you’d go to speak.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, not really sure what to say to that especially not when it’s being said right in front of a guy he was kind of into.

“Birdie holds the strangest grudges in the history of the world, take it as a sign of respect, Big Boy. She hated me for half of our music theory class because my handwriting didn’t look like it matched my general demeanor.”

“No, I hated you because you always smell like weed and never do the homework but somehow are still the professor’s favorite. And I still hate you for all of those things, but your unfortunate personality grew like mold on my girl- I mean grew on,” her face takes on a look of panic as she pivots her word choice. It’s confusing, at first, until he realizes he’s the source of panic. A familiar joke made with a friend, forgetting the new, possibly untrustworthy stranger until too late.

The siren song of new friends and a possible date is alluring, but with Holly in the room he does have to be careful of what gets back to her parents. He remembers Ted’s political alignments and gossip tends to reach his parents faster than he can. So he does his best at assurance, “Chrissy, right, she seems cool. It was nice of you guys to do this, Holly is probably only a little bit more into fairies than I am.”

Eddie sputters beside him, hard to tell if it’s a good sign or if Steve has just royally fucked up his chances at anything; but if it means easing Robin’s fears of queerbashing he’ll ruin his chance for a date every time.

“Into fairies,” Robin asks, nodding over to Chrissy, who’s showing Holly how she balances on the tips of her toes, “or…”

“I’m light in my loafers, or half, light in one-”

“Ex-girlfriend,” Eddie supplies.

“Right.”

“Worst way anyone has ever described being bisexual,” Robin says. 

“Sounds like a challenge,” Eddie says.

“It was not.”

“I really appreciate this,” Steve says again to avoid the argument. Chrissy is helping Holly spin around on the toes of her patent leather mary janes, she’s giggling as Chrissy holds her pointed finger helping her twirl and twirl. “How’d you all get involved in all this? You’re still in school.”

“They always need a little help around the holidays, normally the theater kids get first dibs but there’s only like five tech kids and they’re all working the school show so the music department gets next go.” Robin explains.

“Chis is a prodigy so she put in a word for us specifically,” Eddie adds. Before he leers and leans deep into Steve’s space, it’s not an unwelcome move. “Unless that was you fishing for friends, Big Boy. Trying to figure out if you’ll see us on campus?”

“Oh,” Robin exclaims, like the thought had never occurred to her. “Are you finished with your gen eds? Wait, what's your major? Eddie, show off your party trick.”

He isn’t a total loser, so he doesn’t fidget or blush as Eddie runs his heady brown eyes up and down the length of him, taking him in. “Business and Marketing,” he declares after a second, but he doesn’t sound sold on it.

“I’ve been thinking about changing it,” Steve isn’t sure if he’s admitting Eddie’s right or just trying out what it sounds like to admit that he’s sick of being everything he’s supposed to be instead of what he likes. “I took Children’s Psychology for the whatever requirement and it was a million times more interesting than Intro to Econ.”

It feels like it’s going well. When Nancy broke things off Steve had resigned himself to finishing out college without any real friends, dating around and hoping for something that stuck. Here with these people, he can feel something starting. He wants to take that feeling and capitalize on it, follow through on something so another good thing doesn’t slip away from him.

That’s not the kind of luck that he has though. 

“Steve,” Holly buzzes, grabbing his hand with no hesitation, “Fairy Chrissy said that I can be a dancer too! Can Santa bring me shoes like hers?”

Christmas is a week away, if Stever were guessing, he’d say the Wheelers have had Holly’s presents picked out and put away for most of the month. “I don’t know, Hols, Christmas is pretty close and the North Pole is pretty far. Do you think the mailman would have time to get all the way up there?”

Her shoulders slump, making Steve immediately feel like the worst person in the universe for crushing her dreams. “He's watching though, so I bet he saw you ask right now,” he does his best to smile, hoping it's comforting since it feels tight-lipped and desperate.

“Yeah!” She brightens, starts to hum along to the song just a little off pitch, getting more excited as she goes until she's murmuring, “Knows if you've been bad or good.”

“Hey Holly Jolly, why don't you tell Fairy Chrissy bye and thank you. We don't wanna be late to meet your mom.”

She's still singing but she nods, turning and shuffling back to Chrissy, still a few steps away.

“Would she know where to get those, Chrissy, the shoes that Holly would need?” He asks Eddie and Robin in a whisper, hoping Holly is distracted enough by her goodbyes that she won't hear.

“Are you..?” Eddie asks, a blush staining the tops of his exposed ears. “Ex-girlfriend?” 

The emphasis catches his attention and, yeah, he can see how that looks. “Her parents aren't going to drive up to the city before Christmas, but the town over does lessons.” Barriers to entry, that's what his marketing classes called it, maybe he did learn something. He wants to make it as easy as possible for Holly to get what she wants. “She's a good kid, she should get what she wants for Christmas.”

That blush spreads, bleeding down from his ears across his cheeks. “You're a good dude.”

“Steve, I said bye. Do we have to leave now?” Holly asks.

“Let me say bye too, Hols, and we'll grab a treat before we meet your Mom.”

There's a pen tucked behind Robin's ear that he snags before he can second guess what he's about to do. Grabbing her arm first, he scrawls his number across it. “I've got a place off campus, no roommates if you ever want someplace to hangout or to study,” he tells her. 

He grabs Eddie's hand next, rubbing his thumb along the palm and slowly writing the same number on his arm too. Keeping a hold of his hand for as long as he can. “I've got a place off campus, no roommates, if you ever want to come by and do something, have dinner?” He'll start there, let his interest be noted, and hope that Eddie is the type to like guys who dive in head first heedless of the water below. 

Steve can already imagine a future where he's sneaking into the booth with Eddie. Watching shows he's never heard of before with a warm commentary murmured into his ear. Gossip and behind the scenes rumor, distracting him from a plot that's less important than the company. Maybe next year, after double dates and a growing closeness, he'll be able to sneak Holly backstage and she can meet other dancers too.

Maybe next year, he'll be convincing Eddie, and the girls he hopes will be his new friends, to drive down to Hawkins with him to watch Holly do jumps and spins of her own in their small town showcase. Eddie was good with Holly, Steve hopes it isn't a fluke, he's always wanted kids.

He's probably getting ahead of himself. Falling into the same trap he'd built with Nancy that had gotten him here in the first place. The romantic in him wants to spin this all as fate, it could be true after all. 

Steve takes Holly's hand, they both wave goodbye, and leave the empty arts center. The winter sky is lit up by a full moon, fat snowflakes slowly float down to the ground beside them as they head back to his car, and for the first time since Nancy broke up with him he feels good about the future.

It's a long drive back to the McDonalds where he's meeting Karen, with Holly already dozing in the back seat, it's time that he can sit and be happy. Regardless of whether there's a message blinking on his machine to welcome him back home or not; what was supposed to be a relationship compromise ended up being the most fun he's had in weeks. So maybe Chrissy will tell him where to get Holly's shoes, maybe Robin will invite him for coffee or swing by to compare classes, and -- if he's really lucky -- maybe Eddie will invite himself over for dinner.

But, as he hums along to the waltz whose melody lingers in the back of his mind, the possibilities are something to look forward to.

[fizzigigsimmer]

To B, With Love

Moodboard by @prettyboylikeyousteve

Genre: A/B/O Mail Order Bride Au!

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Harringrove

Summary: Steve, a society omega, puts out an add in the paper looking for an alpha among the lonely hearts expanding the west. He’s answered by Billy, a lonely cowboy living in a growing settlement in California rich  in just about everything but available omegas. Even though it is clear  that Billy hasn’t had the schooling that Steve has, Steve finds himself  charmed and intrigued by the intelligent and silly alpha who hangs on  his every word, who actually seems to want to listen to him. He seems  like the perfect choice, but there’s one problem. It’s not Billy who has  been writing Steve but his little sister Max.

Preview: In the aftermath of Max's near abduction Steve finds himself in an unexpected circumstance. Meanwhile Billy tries to keep himself and his companions alive in their hunt for Vecna's missing cattle. A dance of wills between him and Mac Owens leads him to an impossible choice.

[infinite-orangepeel]

robin: okay what’s with the face ? i know that’s one of your sad steve faces. so, spill.

steve: it’s nothing—it’s just i think eddie has a crush on someone else

robin: okay and what makes you say that ?

steve: well, he keeps playing me all these original songs when we hang out. they’re like love songs about wanting to “connect the dots on his skin” & some shit about “kissing the local babysitter”

robin: ……

steve: i know it’s bad, right ? i can’t believe i ever thought he might like me back—meanwhile, he’s been writing lyrics about—

robin: steve, what do the kids always call you ? like as a nickname

steve: —the babysitter ? i don’t see how that’s relevant though

robin: ……

steve: ……

robin: don’t make me spell this out for you

[marvelflame2010]

Dustin: Can I go play?

Steve: I don't care, I'm not your dad

Dustin: *runs off*

Steve: Not in the street! And no running! You could get hit

[ikarakie]

mike has a panic attack.

it's sudden and it's terrifying and eddie has no idea what to do. one minute they're all yelling and laughing and just playing d&d, and the next, mike is collapsing to the floor struggling to breathe. gasping out the same two names over and over again. the panic attacks eddie's had before were never, never this bad. for a fucking awful moment he thinks he's about to watch wheeler die.

lucas stays with him, crouched by his side and talking in gentle tones. murmuring words of assurance that, while good, don't seem to reach his friend. dustin had sprinted out of the room yelling into a walkie talkie as soon as mike went down, so eddie has no fucking idea what he's up to. not that he's able to focus on much other than the kid (because, god, he's so young, what the hell has happened to him?) trying and failing to just breathe.

he tries the shit that worked for him, trying to get him to breathe in time with his counts, but it's like mike's ears are full of cotton. there's not even a hint of recognition in his eyes as either him or lucas speak.

dustin returns exactly three minutes later, trailed by the last guy eddie would've ever expected to walk through the doors of hellfire club. steve harrington zeroes in on mike like a hawk, crosses the room quickly and crouches in front of him. lucas scoots away, visibly relieved to see steve, so eddie reluctantly does the same. mike's knees are to his chest and he's heaving sobs so powerful they wrack his entire body. for about thirty infuriating seconds, steve just watches.

"oh god- oh fuck- fuck- will, will-" mike is saying, through stilted breaths. "will, el- el- i can't- they're-"

"mike." steve's voice is like honey, low and soothing in a way lucas' can't be yet. mike snaps his gaze up, finally proving his ears work. "where are you right now?"

"hawkins lab-" mike chokes, and eddie just listens, dumbfounded. "hawkins- starcourt- fuck-"

"no," steve says gently. mike stares at him, slightly less glazed. "where are you?" he asks again, a little more pointed. a few seconds pass. mike's eyes dart around the room.

"hellfire." he whispers, barely audible. steve nods, asks if he can come closer, if he can touch mike. the kid nods frantically, and then his hands are being peeled from where they were curled protectively against his chest. they're placed against steve's instead, and they spend the next few minutes breathing in tandem. harrington demonstrating and mike doing his best to follow.

his breathing eventually evens out, thank god, and the heart-wrenching sobs simmer down into quiet tears. mike all but throws himself into the embrace steve offers, tucking his head under the guy's chin and seemingly making himself as small as possible.

"it's okay, you're okay." steve promises, speaking into mike's hair as he gently rocks them back and forth. "they're okay. they're just fine, both of them. you looked after them so well, bud." he keeps whispering reassurances and sweet, kind words into the little cocoon he's crafted. mike stays curled up there for a while, making a wet patch on steve's shoulder.

then finally sounding more like himself, grumbles, "just 'cos we're hugging doesn't mean i like you." after maybe four or five minutes have passed. steve just huffs a laugh, because despite his words, mike is still clutching steve's arms as he pulls back.

"of course not." steve agrees. mike smiles as his hair is carefully ruffled. turns and reaches for dustin and lucas, who waste no time in piling themselves onto their friend. steve doesn't go far though, keeping a hand in the hair at the nape of mike's neck.

it's only then that he finally makes eye contact with eddie, who's watched the whole thing go down with a sick curiosity. because... who was this guy? this was not king steve, or the asshole, cookie-cutter jock steve harrington that eddie knew of. eddie had thought dustin's nickname for him of 'number one babysitter' had been an exaggeration; that maybe he'd watched them a grand total of three times back when he and nancy wheeler dated, and dustin had developed some fixation on him.

but... no, here he was. having brought hard ass michael wheeler down from easily the worst panic attack eddie had ever seen with the ease of someone who's done it a million times. (and wasn't that a harrowing thought?)

"you mind cutting it a bit early tonight, man?" he asks, softly, and it takes eddie a second to register that he's speaking to him. "i know you've still got, like, 20 minutes, but-"

"no, no," eddie cuts him off, kind of desperate for wheeler to get home and rest. "shit, man. that was... yeah, of course, take him." steve smiles appreciatively (an annoyingly pretty expression eddie never imagined him capable of, let alone directing at him), and turns back to the kiddie hug pile.

"hey, boys? mike?" he calls, all gentle and warm. it makes eddie's heart ache; even more so when all three turn to steve with big, shiny eyes. mike's peek out from dustin's arms. "how about we head off now, and stop at that payphone on the corner of glenview on the way home? give the byers a call in california?"

mike nods, hinging on desperate. dustin and lucas give him one more good squeeze before agreeeing themselves. steve corrals them all up, bids a fucking goodnight to the present company, (plus an extra one for eddie specfically), and shuffles them out of the room. eddie, and the rest of hellfire, are left stunned in the wake of babysitter harrington.

(when mike tries to apologise the next day, eddie absolutely refuses to accept it- and, at lucas' timid request, writes the mind flayer he'd introduced out of the campaign entirely. the next session, it's like the thing never existed.)

[schrijverr]

Lunchtime Delivery

When Dustin forgets his lunch he calls Steve to come bring him some. He watches as the cafeteria reacts to Steve bringing a random Freshman lunch, not to mention a Freshman at Eddie’s table. Also how does he know Robin?

On AO3.

Ships: none

Warnings: none

~~~~~~~~

Dustin had forgotten money and lunch. His own mom works full-time a town over, but there was someone else he could count on. So, he had borrowed a quarter and called Steve between classes, only having enough time for Steve to complain a little, before ensuring him he'd being something by.

Right now lunch period has started and Dustin is sitting in the cafeteria with some of the other Hellfire members.

Eddie frowns at the empty table before him and asks: “You don’t have lunch?”

Dustin knows that Eddie isn’t able to bring lunch everyday and the last thing he wants is for the other to give up a bit of what he does have. So, he says: “I forgot, but Steve is bringing me some. Don’t worry about it.”

It doesn’t look like Eddie believes him, which is confirmed when he offers him half of his sandwich.

Before Dustin has to worry about how he can decline this without making it awkward, because Eddie doesn’t seem to like Steve much, there is commotion at the doors of the cafeteria.

Steve.

Dustin smiles and waves at the older boy to get his attention when he sees him looking around with a searching look.

When Steve sees him, he nods, face brightening before he begins to make his way to their table. He is dressed in his normal clothes, hair perfect of course. Though his green work vest stands out against the outfit, as does the paper bag in his hands. Still, he must be quite a strange sight if Dustin goes on the whispers that start up as Steve walks.

Not that Steve seems to notice the stares that follow his every step. He just holds his head up confidently and walks with an air of oblivious carelessness that Dustin envies. Steve doesn’t have to care about the opinions of others. Steve is cool.

Unbeknownst to Dustin, Steve is intimately aware of the whispers that follow him. They have been for all his life, one of his earliest memories is his mother hissing to calm down, because what would people think, seeing a Harrington behave like that?

So, yeah, he knows. He has always been the center of attention. For a long time he thrived on it, but that diminished with more and more vicious rumors making the rounds after his fall from grace. However, he knows not to pay them any mind, the only advise from his mother he listens to.

Dustin doesn’t see any of that though, he just sees his friend that he admires displaying traits he wants so naturally, oblivious to the years of work that went into that confidence.

By this time Steve is practically there and he calls out: “Next time don’t forget lunch, dipshit.”

“Sorry,” Dustin grins not feeling that sorry as he takes the bag and looks inside. Once he sees what’s in it, he exclaims: “Dude, you got me a burger? Thank you!”

Steve rolls his eyes and says: “Yeah, it's like the only joint that’s near Family Video and if I’m gone too long Keith will kill me. My lunch break doesn’t last forever, you know.”

“You’re the best,” Dustin tells him, seeing the happiness at the compliment that Steve tries to hide beneath annoyance.

Luckily for Steve, Dustin knows him too well. So, he isn’t deterred and just pulls him into a quick hug to extra show his thanks.

Steve stiffens in surprise as he always does. Dustin doesn’t let it stop him, knowing that soon Steve will melt as he always does. This time is no different and Steve pulls him close for a second before stepping back and ruffling his hair with a grin.

Dustin now noticed the other members of Hellfire, who aren’t in The Party looking at them with shocked confusion. As if Steve is an unknown alien. He doesn’t know why that is, since all of them seemed to know Steve, but just in case, he goes: “This is Steve.”

“We know, Dustin,” Eddie breaks the silence, not breaking the stare he is directing at Steve.

It feels a bit like a stand off.

Steve’s back straightens up, looking much like the fighter Dustin saw in Starcourt and with the demodogs the year before. It makes him look intimidating and Gareth, Jeff and Chris shrink away slightly. Though, Eddie doesn’t let himself get intimidated like that and just stares right back.

Dustin is about to worry that he should step in – he didn’t think the rivalry between the two of them ran this deep before now – when he recognizes Steve’s stance. He isn’t trying to be intimidating, but trying to hype himself up to do something. Dustin wonders what.

Right then, Steve sets a step forwards and holds out his hand for Eddie to shake, as he says: “Thanks for looking after these dorks. I hear you’re a crazy mean DM.”

If Dustin were to go off Eddie’s look he’d say Eddie just witnessed the Upside Down with how his worldview seems to have shifted.

To be fair to Dustin, he isn’t that far off. Eddie has never been a target of Steve, but has observed him for years, creating his own stories and prejudices about the other. This is the last thing Eddie expected Steve to do when Dustin mentioned him bringing by food.

So, there is a moment of silence, the whole cafeteria holding its breath andwatching the stand down. They wonder if King Steve will be rejected by The Freak, or if a weird compromise will be made by two on opposite sides of the social ladder.

Then Eddie tentatively reaches out and shakes Steve’s hand. He answers: “They’re good players, glad to have them at my table.”

At that Steve grins and they shake once before letting go. With that done, he turns back to the kids and tell them: “You better be ready Friday, I have a date after I get your asses home.”

“We don’t have control over that, Steve,” Mike rolls his eyes. They all know DnD can run overtime, so they can’t make any promises. Not that Steve has ever been truly mad at them if they made him wait, even when he had a date then.

“We’ll try," Lucas assures Steve, placating him after Mike’s remark.

“Thank you, Lucas,” Steve says, giving Mike a look before turning back to Lucas and asking: “Still on for practice Sunday?”

“Yeah, man,” Lucas grins, which Dustin still finds crazy that anyone would smile in relation to sports, but he loves his two weird friends.

“Stay in school,” he tells the table like a hypocrite as he leaves.

They call their own greeting to his back and he holds up a hand as he goes.

He scans the cafeteria as he leaves and Dustin thinks he knows who he is looking for. This is confirmed when Steve’s face splits into a wide grin like it had done for Dustin and he yells: “Robbie, your Indie film came in today. Watch it when you clock in?”

The two of them are perfect for each other Dustin thinks as he watches Robin grin back, getting up to meet Steve before he leaves the cafeteria. He wonders why they won’t just date and why Robin didn’t say hi until Steve did, since she normally has no inhibitions about draping herself over Steve.

Unlike Dustin, Robin has knowledge over Steve in the high school ecosystem.

She knows that Steve isn’t the person to be seen with her and she wasn’t sure he’d want to be her friend when under the watchful eyes of others. It’s something she realized was stupid the moment he looked for her and grinned.

Steve is her dingus and soulmate. They will always pick each other and he has already told her that many times before. Her own anxieties just get in the way from time to time.

With permission, she runs over launching herself into his arms. Steve catches her without problem like he always does.

Softly he says: “I used my extra time to get Dustin food, I don’t know if Keith will let me pick you up. Can you get to work, because I will fight Keith, no worries.”

“I’ll ask Nancy,” Robin assures him. “I don't mind. You’re still dropping me off at home?”

“Yeah, of course,” Steve says, like she's an idiot for thinking any different.

It’s only then, when Steve truly has to go if he wants to get back to work on time, that they let go of the other. Dragging out their goodbye as Steve makes his way out of the cafeteria.

Dustin gets pulled out of the – in his eyes – couple-y display by Gareth commenting: “You don’t see that every day.”

“Is Robin dating Steve?” Eddie asks like that is very surprising to hear

“No,” Dustin rolls his eyes. “They’re practically perfect for each other, but they both keep insisting it’s platonic, like with a capital P. Steve’s date this Friday is probably some random girl, at this point he’s more likely to show up with Mike’s mom than Robin.”

“Gross, dude,” Mike exclaims, but is ignored.

“Ah, okay,” Eddie says, like that makes more sense, which Dustin doesn’t get.

However, he lets it go in favor of focusing on something more interesting. “You shook Steve's hand, does this mean you’re gonna be nicer to each other now?” he asks Eddie.

Eddie raises a brow and gives a cynical smile as he answers: “I wouldn’t get your hopes up, squirt. He’s still the king of his court. Today was an exception of gracing us peasants, but that won’t last.”

“I don’t get why you think Steve’s like that,” Dustin complains. “He is a cool guy.”

“Exactly,” Jeff says. “He is cool, we are not. It’s not the same.”

Eddie clicks his fingers as he points at Jeff, backing up his point through the bite he’s eating.

“You just don’t know him”" Dustin says, but lets it go again. He isn’t getting anywhere with these two, no matter how much he thinks they would get along if they’d just try.

“Maybe I don’t,” Eddie agrees, voice absent as he watches Robin, who is seemingly getting interrogated by the band kids. Then Eddie brings his eyes back into focus and adds: “But I know his kind.”

“Whatever,” Dustin sighs, then dives into his burger, humming happily at the food Steve got him. He truly is the best

The whispers about Steve’s visit roam the halls for weeks after. Dustin is asked by multiple people how he knows Steve, when he answers that they’re friends, he isn’t believed. But Dustin is used to it, besides why should he care? He knows Steve better than any of them. They’re best friends.

~~

A/N:

I love the idea of Dustin being very oblivious to the weirdness of his friendship with Steve, bc to him it’s Steve, the dorky guy, who is also a badass and saved them. He has never really been king Steve in his vicinity and he has no clue why anyone would find it weird that Steve is hanging out with him.

Also Eddie totally has Robin clocked and is shocked that it seems Steve knows too and protects and respects her