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sp0o0kylights · 9 months

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Part Five Part Two / Part Six YOU ARE HERE. / Part Seven

A03

"No come back here and hug me dammit!"

"I told you it'd be funny." Gareth stage whispered to Steve the following Monday, as Eddie proceeded to cause his usual amount of chaos in the lunchroom.

Tiff just shook her head.

"Come on, just do it and then tell everyone I'm better!" Eddie shrieked again, loud enough to be heard across the school. Possibly into the parking lot, given the winces and glares their peers tossed Eddie's way.

Jeff had his own head in his hands having been Eddie's prior cuddle victim and still suffering the consequences from it.

"I hate you." He groaned, and every single person knew he was talking to Gareth. "I cannot believe you told him his stupid hugs didn't even compare to Steve's. He almost broke my back this morning!"

Which wasn't an understatement--Gareth himself had dodged his best friend's aggressive hugs only by bolting to his first class, then acting like a ninja as he snuck about all day.

He'd even dropped to the floor and army-crawled at one point.

Now he stayed close to Steve, blatantly using the jock as a meat shield.

"Anyone have any ideas on how we can get him to chill out?" Stewart asked, from where he'd taken refuge under the lunch table.

Their second eldest member put up with many things, but drew the line at bodily injury by overly affectionate metalhead.

"Same as always." Jeff grumbled, making sure Gareth saw his glare. "We wait him out."

"Tiff!" Eddie whined, whirling around, hands reaching out for her.

"You touch me Munson and I'll burn the trigonometry notes I promised you." Tiffany threatened without looking up from her book.

"Fine." Eddie wheeled right back around. "Graaaaant-!"

"This could take days!" Stewart complained, acting like a man caged. "I can't wait much longer!"

'Dramatic, the whole lot of them.' Gareth thought fondly, knowing he was just as bad.

"Okay. Seriously, how are we fixing this?" Jeff said sourly, as Grant once again picked Eddie up by his jacket and bodily threw him as far away as he could.

Like an eldritch being from a B horror movie, Eddie simply bounced back up and came for him again.

"His issue is that he thinks I'm the better cuddler, right? Nothing else?" Steve said thoughtfully.

"Yes." Groaned the other four in unison, as Grant laid a hand on Eddie's forehead, the latter pinwheeling his arms like a cartoon character.

Steve nodded once, before his face morphed into something devastatingly smug. "Yeah we're screwed."

Jeff switched targets from Gareth to glare at Steve instead. "Really Harrington?"

"I'm back to Harrington now? Jeff, man, you wound me." Steve faked a gasp, putting a hand over his heart.

It made Gareth grin, if only because Steve wouldn't have done that a month ago. "God I love when you're a bitch."

Steve looked over at him and winked.

"Just for that, we should make you cuddle with him." Stewart grumbled. "Tell him he can decide for himself who's better!"

Which of course killed the playful look on Steve's face.

Two pairs of shoes proceeded to kick at Stewart (who dodged Jeff's only to be nailed by Tiffany's far more tactical aim.)

Except when Gareth though about it, it actually wasn't a half-bad idea.

If one pitched it right.

"You know," Gareth said slowly, a plan forming. It was half-baked, but it'd work. "--you could end this pretty easily if you did. You have the power."

"Are we being serious right now?" Jeff grumped. "This does not feel like we're being serious."

Gareth ignore him.

"You up for one last cuddle, Sir Carrington?" He asked, playfully.

He got a flat look in return. "You've got to be kidding me. You're seriously suggesting the solution here is for me and Eddie to cuddle."

"I am indeed." Gareth said with a grin. "So long as it's an absolutely terrible cuddle."

That got an interesting reaction.

"Good luck, I'm an amazing cuddler." Steve huffed, offended--and it looked like he actually believed it.

A curiosity, considering even with everyone announcing themselves before touching him he still got jumpy.

"Then pretend." Gareth wheedled. "You don't even have to do it for that long. Sneeze in his ear and he'll be done for."

He got a few grossed out looks for that, but it was worth it all to see Steve growing more comfortable with the idea.

"If I were to do anything of the sort I wouldn't sneeze in his ear." The jock retorted, but he looked contemplative.

"I'm sure you could come up with something else. " Gareth suggested, and gave his best, award winning smile as he said it. "You're creative when cornered."

No ulterior motives here, no sir!

"I know what you're doing, Gareth." Steve said, calling him out immediately. "But I might be convinced to take a hit for the team--for a price. My reputation would be on the line."

"What do you want?" Stewart asked immediately, more than a little desperate as Eddie carried on in the background.

"Well..." Steve trailed off, slowly meeting each and every one of them in the eye. "what are you offering?"

"You know what?" Jeff said, putting his head back in his hands. " Just for that, you and Gareth both are on my shit list."

"I'll bake you those marble brownies you wanted and get right back off it." Steve said, the smug air only growing as Jeff sighed loudly.

"Name your price, Harrington." Stewart said, talking over Jeff's second, overly dramatic sigh. "You want some D&D treasure, or an item for your character? You got it. You want a fucking," He paused, eyes scrunching up in thought. "--new basketball? Or whatever sport ball you're into right now?"

"Not even close." Steve told him.

Jeff sighed a third time, loud and obnoxious.

"Why does this always fall down to me?" Tiff asked the ceiling, as though God himself might respond back with the answer. She tilted her head back down, aiming to make eye contact with Steve. "You're in Rucker's class right? I'll write your poly-sci paper. Highest grade I will guarantee is a B, and that is because it would be suspicious if you looked like you suddenly had strong, A-grade opinions on current, geopolitical policies."

Steve snapped and pointed towards her. "Sold!" He called, mimicking an auctioneer.

Smooth as butter, he turned towards Hurricane Eddie. "Hey Munson!"

In two seconds the jock had summoned that cocky persona of his, wearing a smarmy smile like a cloak. It was getting easier and easier to tell which "bitchy Steve" was the real one and which one was a total front.

(Tiffany had decided the man was a mean girl at his core and honestly, the label stuck.

But Mean Girl Steve was a hell of a lot different than King Steve--or any of the other overly confident swaggering personas Steve adopted like a second skin.)

For for all the preparation he'd had, was still rigid most of the time Gareth had occupied his lap, only relaxing when the younger boy had gotten Eddie so wound up their eldest friend couldn't form coherent sentences.

Now, as Steve strode over and issued the challenge of a cuddle off during the next Hellfire game, he was already less stiff.

Eddie had that effect on people. Particularly ones who had crushes on him.

"This is the stupidest thing I've ever been involved in." Tiffany complained.

"Is it Tiff? Is it really?" Jeff challenged as he finally sat up.

"She's definitely forgetting the purple griffin incident." Grant said, completely ignoring what was going down on the other end of the table as he took advantage of Eddie being distracted to make his escape.

"Fine." Tiff conceded before anyone could list anything else off, "But it's at least in the top five."

"This Friday, Harrington." Eddie announced loudly then, fire in his eyes and a finger in Steve's face. "Me and you. It is on."

"Hope you're ready to lose." Steve taunted.

It was hilarious as it was ridiculous.

Which meant of course, that dumb shit had to get in the way of it.

xXx

Steve backslid the next morning.

Worse, he kept backsliding, growing worse throughout the week until the person left looked a whole lot like the guy they’d dragged to their table all those months ago.

He sat silently next to Eddie during lunch, only speaking if asked a direct question, all banter and playful bitchiness gone.

He avoided Hellfire’s members in the hallway, Stewart reporting he had been uncharacteristically silent during their one shared class.

Most damning?

He’d flinched when Eddie had done their dumb little “shoulder bumping” routine.

Which officially meant that ghost Steve was back.

(“I didn’t realize how Steve was our little ray of sunshine and positivity until he stopped being it.” Tiff complained, idly spinning a pencil in the library. “Worse, I didn’t think I’d miss it.”

Gareth, who definitely wasn’t skipping again, agreed wholeheartedly.)

Not even Eddie's antics got a smile out of Steve. He really tried too, to the point where Gareth was starting to worry his best friend was going to do something dramatic just to get a little chuckle.

Steve at least, picked up on the fact he was freaking out all of Hellfire when Grant started to get blunt with his questions.

A part of Gareth (the part that appreciated Grant’s bluntness, instead of the rest of him, that wanted to duck and cover in case it made things worse) was curious if this would finally get Steve to open up; but instead it just made things worse.

Within two direct “No really dude, what's wrong?” ’s, Steve retired the haunted act and instead brought the downright freaky return of one Hawkins' jock's doing a real good job at pretending he was okay.

Pity for him this wasn't Tommy H or the rest of the public Steve was trying to fool.

This was a group of people who tended to be hyper aware of things, ranging from their surroundings to their people. (And then went on to play, as Steve regularly teased them, “one giant math game about it.”)

Not a single one of them was fooled by the act, or the evasive answers Steve pulled out of his ass when the rest of them all, individually, in their own way, tried to figure out if their newest member was okay or just having a few bad days.

"He told me he wasn't feeling good." Jeff said, worrying his lip with his teeth when they all finally convened together after school to discuss it.

"Are we choosing to buy that?" Tiffany asked, one eyebrow raised in a challenge. "He's been off since Tuesday. It's Thursday."

Grant huffed an agreement, arms crossed over his chest.

"Devils advocate, people are typically sick for more than one day." Stewart pointed out. "Dudes probably got allergies or something, it is the end of May."

"It's not allergies." Gareth said flatly.

Allergies usually came with symptoms like coughing and sneezing.

They did not come with vacant stares and falling over one's feet when their friends said hello in the hallway.

"Well clearly he doesn't want to talk about it so maybe he'll just…work himself out of whatever it is." Jeff reasoned. "I don't know if we should really push him about it."

"And miss out on another week's worth of baking?" Stewart bemoaned, as if Steve's lack of treats was the sole reason they were concerned.

Tiff swiped at him with her paperback.

Interestingly, Eddie had yet to say much on the matter. Everyone knew he was just as worried. The guy was a secret teddy bear, and they all still knew to warn him if a dog so much as got hurt in a movie. Worse, Steve was one of his "sheepies" as he so lovingly called them all, and was notoriously defensive of Hellfire as a whole.

Gareth had been eyeing him throughout their little gathering, watching as his best friend tapped his foot anxiously.

The guy seemed lost in his own head and while it wasn't completely unusual, it too, was odd behavior.

Gareth squinted at him, making eye contact and asking if he was alright with the kind of subtle facial expressions only best friends could pull.

Eddie didn't respond, but instead, looked away.

'That's a no.' Gareth thought, as the conversation around them wound down, without anyone coming up with any solid plans on what they were going to do about the Steve situation.

This is exactly how he ended up following Eddie home.

"Inviting ourselves over I see." The elder teen muttered out of the corner of his mouth as Gareth chased him to his van, hopping into the passenger seat instead of heading for his bicycle.

"It's a good night for a smoke sess." Gareth responded casually.

"You hate smoking weed." Eddie returned with a snort. "You prefer edibles."

"Just think of what we could do with Harrington's baking skills." Gareth replied wistfully--but made sure to watch his friend.

There it was. The slightest of weird expressions, flitting over Eddie's face like a shadow before he hid it back into whatever cage it escaped from.

"You're worried." Gareth guessed. Not like that was a hard one.

"Aren't we all, Gare-Bear?" Eddie returned, eyes never leaving the road.

He pretended like he couldn't feel Gareth scanning him, taking in the too tense shoulders and the shuttered, guarded look on his face.

"You know something." Gareth guessed after a moment.

The declaration made his best friend flinch, hands squeezing tight on the wheel.

'Got you.'

"Are you going to spill or do I have to blackmail it out of you?"

"Please Gary you have nothing you could blackmail me with." Eddie challenged with a snort. "I am shameless."

A challenge that could not be ignored, if only because Gareth wanted to remind him who had had the upper hand since Steve had crashed into Hellfire.

"Really? So you wouldn't mind if I show Steve those photos of the time we dressed up as a Barbie “ken doll” band for Jeff’s sister’s birthday? You know, the one were you were wearing that pink boa and the star glasses--”

A hand shot out, clapping Gareth over the mouth.

"Thank you, I got it!" Eddie said, voice an octave higher than normal. "Why do you still even have that!?"

"My mom." Gareth managed to get out, even if it was horribly muffled between Eddie's bony fingers.

"Curse that woman's thirst for nostalgia and scrapbooks." Eddie hissed, as if his mom was some grand villain.

"You love her crafts, you ass." Gareth rolled his eyes, wiping his mouth when Eddie finally removed his hand. "Now spill."

"I'm not sure this is what's causing it." The elder cautioned after a pause just long enough to be dramatic. "But rumor has it his parents are home."

"You think they're why he's acting all…" Gareth trailed off, unsure of what to compare Steve to and not wanting to say a kicked dog.

Eddie hummed in agreement. "Every time I walk into Steve's house, the place starts off feeling like a living tomb. There’s got to be a reason for that, and the only one I can think of is that his parents want that. The tomby-ness."

Gareth leaned back in his seat, contemplating. Turned the idea of Steve's mysterious parents over in his head, comparing it to how the guy's house did have a sort of museum quietness to it.

It wasn't that the place was huge, or even that Steve was typically its solo occupant beyond the occasional weekends one or both of his parents "popped in."

It was the perfectness of it.

How on any given day a photographer could show up to take pictures and the place would be camera ready.

A sort of--trophy house.

He went on to tell his best friend this.

"It’s like a shrine to their success." Eddie added an hour later, when they'd resettled onto his couch, trying to break down just what exactly about Steve's house made it so weird.

They'd shared a beer each--some gross kind that a cat couldn't have gotten buzzed off of, and Gareth had just finished helping Eddie select their chosen flower to roll when an awkward sound erupted throughout the trailer.

If Gareth knew any better, he'd say it almost sounded like someone was knocking on the shitty aluminum door.

Couldn't be though, because he'd never in his life heard someone knock--Eddie's uncle Wayne had a key, and every member of Hellfire was aware that the window in Eddie's room had a broken lock.

To get it open you just had to push at it from a specific angle, and with a few tugs it'd come right up for you.

The noise came again, this time a little louder.

Gareth looked to Eddie, and found his friend holding all the weed.

Understanding flashed between them, and Gareth stood up to answer the door as Eddie magically made the drugs disappear.

Thankfully, it wasn't the cops.

"Hey." Steve said, standing awkwardly on Eddie's porch, looking like he desperately wanted inside but wasn't sure he'd be allowed in. "Eddie said I could just come over if I needed to…?"

He trailed off, awkwardly miming smoking with his fingers.

Gareth couldn't hold in the snort.

"You're in luck man, because I just finished rolling a few." He said, stepping back to let their wayward jock in.

"Hey Stevie." Eddie drawled, now in the process of making the weed reappear. "Come in, have a seat, take a puff."

Rather than sit on the admittedly small couch, Steve chose instead to drop his ass to the floor, leaving the open spot above him to Gareth. He waited until the younger was seated before he leaned back, broad shoulders brushing both his friends legs as he relaxed.

Eddie’s hand twitched, as though he wanted to run it through Steve’s hair and thought better of it.

(Knowing him as Gareth did, that was very likely exactly what the weird little movement of his was.)

“You wanna tell us what’s goin’ on?” Eddie said softly, long after all three of them had an inhale of the joint Eddie had lit, sitting in relaxed silence. "Cause you've been pretty down, Stevie."

"Yeah." Steve agreed hollowly. "Sorry."

Eddie nudged his leg with a foot, then offered him the blunt again. "Don't apologize man, we can't all be sunshine and rainbows."

“You’d be surprised at how many people expect an apology for just that.” Steve muttered.

Gareth traded careful looks over Steve’s head, Eddie turning back and resolutely plowing on.

“You don’t have to, but talking tends to make people feel better.”

“Does it?” Steve asked, before taking a slow, measured inhale of the joint.

Idly he added; "Gareth you can't roll for shit."

"Fuck you dude!" The younger teen exclaimed, instantly offended, but knew a redirect when he saw one. "You try rolling them then!" He snatched the joint out of Steve's hands, huffing audibly.

It was an offer. If Steve didn't want to take the opening Eddie had given him, he could instead take the out Gareth had given.

The option reminded him of Alice in Wonderland (Gareth’s actual favorite movie, even if he tells everyone else it's The Empire Strikes Back)

Specifically when Alice was lost, standing before a split path and asking advice from the Cheshire Cat.

Would you tell me, please, which way I ought to go from here?" Alice asks.

The Cheshire Cat spins its head, smiling its smile as it answers;“ That depends a good deal on where you want to get to."

Steve proved himself to be a stronger man that Gareth had given him credit for, and took the harder path.

"My parents are home." He said, eyes glued to the TV in front of him, as if that would make the conversation easier.

Perhaps it did.

Eddie to his credit, didn't treat the declaration as anything important. "Yeah? They bring you something nice back from New York?"

"Florida this time and no."

Steve fussed with a thread on his sweater for a moment, a single yellow thread unspooling from the end. It looked like he’d been tugging at it a lot, a small imperfection on an otherwise expensive looking piece of clothing.

"Apparently I've been such a disappointment they're demanding I get a job." He began again. "They want me to learn the realities of hard work."

Gareth traded puzzled glances with Eddie.

Steve had never shied from hard work.

Everyone had heard the story of how he’d won over every coach in Hawkins' High’s favor. It was practically school legend, since he was the first freshmen to take up and finish some bullshit exercise challenge they hosted every year.

The guy even had a herd of some of the most obnoxious children he looked after, without pay.

There was no way the source of whatever was eating at him was a summer job.

Or perhaps, not just a summer job.

"Summer jobs fucking suck, but I hear that new mall’s finally finished.” Gareth said hesitantly. “You could probably get in somewhere there before you head off to college.”

"I'm not going to college. Didn't get into any." Steve said flatly.

Ah-ha.

"I only applied to the one Nancy made me." He added, still refusing to look at either of them. "Couldn't bring myself to apply to any of the others."

Which--odd, but it wasn't the oddest thing ever. Some people just didn't like school, or traditional learning methods.

No matter how much Gareth's counselor insisted otherwise.

"My dad found that out too." Steve said after a moment.

"College isn't the fucking answer to life." Gareth continued. "There's plenty of other things you can do."

Eddie’s head cocked, like a dog who’d been presented with a puzzle.

Steve shrugged. "That's not my issue with it, but the old man thinks it is. He keeps insisting that the free rides are over now." His voice kicked into a deep mockery of his fathers at the end, the condescending tone coming through loud and clear. “Thinks I'm here to screw my girlfriend and party my life away. Wouldn't hear me about not wanting to go to college, at all. Definitely didn't care that I broke up with Nancy." The last part was muttered, almost said more to himself and for himself than it was for them.

Eddie’s head tilted the other way.

"Did you have an idea of what you wanted to do?" Gareth asked. He figured it they knew, they might be at least able to help.

He got a shrug in response.

Gareth was about to open his mouth--probably to put his foot in it, but hell if Steve wanted help brainstorming what he did want to do with his life, or at least get positive support from someone who wasn't a rich asshole, it might as well start here.

Eddie beat him to the punch though, because as usual, Eddie was able to track the weird unspoken thing that no one else could pick up on.

"It's the kids, isn't it?" Eddie asked softly. Reverently. "You don't want to leave Hawkins, because of the kids."

Steve took another sip of beer, waving off the joint Gareth offered him. For someone who'd come to smoke he'd barely touched it or the beer, but then no one here would push.

It was pretty obvious, (to Gareth anyway) that the weed had been a flimsy excuse to begin with.

"When those damn kids started trying to trap the--dogs." Steve started, correcting his slip so smoothly Gareth almost didn't pick up that he'd intended to say something else. “I was the only damn adult they could find.”

Steve gave up fiddling with his sweater to tug angrily at his beer tab, twisting and pulling at it.

"They had figured out where the dogs would be. Had an entire meat bucket they wanted to use as bait and but I was the only damn person to try and at least wrangle the little shits. You wanna know how they found me?" He picked up steam now, and Eddie couldn't even be satisfied that he'd managed to hit the nail on the head because clearly whatever was happening here was the actual thing Steve needed to get off his chest.

"Football practice?" Gareth asked mostly to fill in the tension-filled pause, and then ducked from the swat Eddie aimed his way.

Steve blew out a harsh, mocking breath.

"Dustin found me on the way to Nancy's house, where I was planning on apologizing. Had flowers and everything."

Oh.

Steve's tone said a hell of a lot more than that, the raw emotion making Gareth's own stomach roll.

A careful glance showed an equally punched-out expression on Eddie's face, the metalhead having physically reared back like Steve's words had struck him.

"What were you apologizing for?" He asked, recovering faster than Gareth could.

"Honestly man? I don't know." Steve laughed then, a harsh little disbelieving noise. "I just knew Nancy had said--well she said some shit while drunk, and wasn't able to say some shit sober, and I realized after that maybe I--I rushed her or something you know?"

He ran a hand through his hair, a self soothing behavior. "Or that I did, fuck I don't know. She's Nancy Wheeler, she's smarter than me by a longshot, so if she was mad, than I figured I must be at fault." Steve shrugged, like that was a fact of life.

Eddie interrupted immediately. "She's not smarter than you."

"I--what?"

"Nancy isn't smarter than you.' Eddie repeated firmly. "She's booksmart, Stevie. School smart. Nancy Wheeler absolutely owns tests and papers and things you need to study for, and she’s a hell of a researcher--but she's not people smart."

"What?" Steve repeated incredulously and there Gareth caught a flash of bitchy Steve.

The real one, who'd been shoved aside by the apathetic version.

"Have you ever seen that girl get fixated on something? She's tenacious, gets her teeth in and won't let go.” Eddie snapped his teeth, shaking his head while growling like a dog.

Gareth rolled his eyes, but a ghost of a smile graced Steve’s face.

“But she hasn't figured out how that hurts people yet. She's caught up in getting the results. She's not intentionally unkind, she's just--a little out of touch." Eddie flopped back against the couch, making a grabby gesture for the joint Gareth now held. “People like you--”

Here, he poked Steve in the chest, before reaching past him to wave his hand obnoxiously in Gareth’s face for the joint (and get smacked at for the effort) “are people smart.”

"That's not--no." Steve protested head jerking from Eddie's fingers to Eddie's face, but it was weak, his eyes wide as saucers.

"Yes.” Eddie mocked, but it was in jest, proven by the easy, soft smile he gave Steve. “You said it yourself. The kids go to you, man. They go to you even now, when Nancy or Jonathan could be driving them all over town. You get people; how they work, how they tick, what makes them happy or sad, and people are drawn to you because of that.”

“Jonathan drives.” Steve muttered in disagreement.

“And yet we all witnessed the clown car act when all those kids came out of your backseat two weekends ago.” Eddie refuted. “You’re just as smart as Nancy is, Steve. Just in a different way.”

Steve frowned.

“My parents don’t see it like that.”

“Your parents can get fucked, Sweetheart.”

That was pushing it, but Steve didn't comment on the nickname. Never commented on any nicknames Eddie came up with, beyond the occasional eye roll.

Which is right about when the phone rang.

They all glanced towards it, then down at their respective watches.

It was well past midnight.

"Think that's Wayne?" Gareth asked, eyebrows raising as Eddie stood to answer the phone.

His friend just shrugged, before picking up.

"Munson Mortuary, you stab em we slab em." He chirped as he pressed the phone to his ear.

"Tiffy-Taffy isn't it kinda late for--whoa." Eddies easy smile flipped, back going ramrod straight. "Slow down, what happened?" And oh, shit, that was Eddie's "somethings wrong and I'm going to fix it" voice.

Gareth sat up, making sure the joint Eddie had put down was out as he stared worriedly at Eddie.

"Okay. Gareth and Steve are with me, we're all coming." Eddie finished, prompting Steve to also sit up. "Stay there and for the love of God, tell Stewart not to touch anything else."

"What happened." Steve and Gareth demanded as one.

It'd be funny if the look on Eddie's face wasn't so serious.

"I'm afraid I'm going to have to break my promise about not going to the lab, Steve." He said, a hand going to tug anxiously at his hair.

"What?" Steve said, immediately on the defensive.

Then; "Why?"

"Because all our darling friends went to the Hawkin's lab without us. Apparently they ran into some kids on the way and now Stewart's stuck in a hole."

“All of them?” Gareth questioned, because sure, yeah he could see Stewart doing it. Could see Grant and even Jeff really, but Tiffany? Out exploring an abandoned lab that had killed people?

On a school night?

"She's gonna give us the full story when we get there, she called from the nearest payphone. Had some kid who kept interrupting her so she just gave me the basics, but apparently Stewart is really stuck, and for some reason the damn kids won't let anyone try to get him from some other door. They keep saying it's not safe or some shit." Eddie's anxious tugging grew as he moved to snatch up his wallet and keys, walking and talking as it were.

Gareth had expected a reaction out of Steve then, but what he hadn't expected was Steve to surge to his feet in a near panic.

"Kids!?" He shouted, eyes wide and frantic.

Eddie flinched, but Gareth knew immediately what the jock was thinking.

"You don't think they're your feral pack of kids--do you?" He asked.

"It's always them so yes, yes I do." Steve snarled and for the first time that week, the guy looked alive.

Gareth just wished it was under better circumstances.

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devondespresso · 11 months

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im confident that part of The Stobin Bond™ comes from them having impeccable chemistry which means they would've probably gotten along really well even before the whole Russian torture thing BUT Robin still had a pretty strong grudge against him from highschool so she just really really doesn't want to

so imagine: Steve and Robin working one of their firsts shifts at scoops together. During a small break between customers Steve gets her attention. makes unbroken eye contact. holds up one of their little spoons, and says "poon". then immediately breaking into a goofy ass smile. maybe even a giggle. and robin is trying so so so hard to look unaffected. annoyed, ideally.

then later that night while Steve's on break or maybe went home, shes waiting for the inevitable rush when the latest movie lets out. She wanders up to the register. sees the "poon" again. and laughs

#i always have stobin thoughts while at work #its the food service effect i suppose #i also put effort into ~the prose~ today so im hoping its good #you don't really have to tell me if it is better than usual but please at least let me know if its worse #thank goodnight gay people #stranger things #steve harrington #robin buckley #stobin #platonic obviously #platonic with a capital p #platonic stobin #qpr stobin #pre qpr technically but it is the vibes methinks #platonic soulmates stobin #robin and steve #steve and robin #devon thinks sometimes

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solarmorrigan · 1 year

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(More of Robin and Steve working at a diner, I guess?)

The first time Robin burns herself on the grill is bad.

The burn itself isn’t bad; it’s almost more startling than it is painful, at least initially. And really, it had been kind of an inevitability – a rite of passage, even, for short order cooks.

So the burn isn’t terrible – what’s bad is that Steve happens to be working the same shift.

It’s at the tail end of a Sunday breakfast rush; Robin is jammed into the kitchen with two other cooks—Dennis and Carl—and the orders have been coming in thick and fast. Space is limited, and even though they each have their own assigned tasks, there’s a certain amount of dancing around and reaching past one another to get to everything they need. In retrospect, Robin is a little surprised she’d lasted as long as she had before reaching a little too far around Dennis to grab a flipper, overbalancing, and touching her bare forearm to the edge of the flattop grill.

She yells, a short, loud burst of noise as she jerks her arm away, at first because she knows it should hurt, and then because it does fucking hurt, and then she’s shouting a string of expletives as Dennis hustles her over to the handwashing station and shoves her arm under the cold running water.

Out in the dining room, Steve shouldn’t have been able to hear her at all, not over the bustle of the breakfast service, especially not with the way the hearing in his left ear is always a little fuzzy now, and with how hard he’s focusing on the way the words are forming on the lips of the guests at the table he’s serving to make sure he doesn’t miss anything – but he does hear. It cuts into his awareness like a siren through the fog, and he’s moving before he’s even made a conscious choice to do so.

He doesn’t excuse himself from his table, he doesn’t say sorry when he cuts in front of one of the other servers as he shoves his empty tray onto a counter and bangs through the swinging door into the kitchen, and he doesn’t hesitate when he sees Dennis and Carl crowded around Robin while she runs her arm under the water and grinds out curses and little hisses of pain.

If Steve had been thinking, he might have recognized that her shout hadn’t been one of fear and that her curses were muttered things out of irritation as much as discomfort, but Steve isn’t really thinking at all. All he’s registered at this point is that Robin is in distress and that there are two men he doesn’t know very well hovering around her.

“Get the fuck away from her.”

Dennis, Carl, and Robin all freeze where they’re standing, startled by Steve’s command – and that’s exactly what it is. It isn’t a hysterical shout, it isn’t a scream of anger, it’s a full-chested command that will be followed or so help him god–

The other two cooks are already scrambling out of the way when Steve stalks forward, practically shoving them out of the way with presence alone, placing himself between them and Robin as if they’re the threat here and not him – suddenly not that kind of goofy kid who flirts with his customers and sometimes mixes his orders up but is so sheepish about it that it’s hard to be mad, but a man with solid, tense-shouldered posture that says if they make one wrong move, retaliation is not a threat but a promise.

Except then Robin is reaching out and putting the hand from her uninjured side on his arm, gentle even as she speaks to him with a voice like steel. “Steve.” He turns and looks at her, wide-eyed and worried. “I’m fine.”

Steve’s attention flicks from Robin’s face to her arm under the running water. He glances at the grill, at the other two cooks, and then back at Robin. His shoulders are starting to slump.

“The grill bit me,” Robin explains, lightening her tone and holding her arm up to show Steve the shiny pink line across the pale skin on the inside of her forearm. “Dennis was helping, and Carl was getting in the way and letting the eggs burn.”

Carl swears and lunges for the pan he’d left the eggs frying in, because some things are more ingrained than a newfound fear of Steve Harrington.

Steve clears his throat. “Right.” He glances back at the cooks, almost the same kind of sheepish as when he’s sent back three Denver omelets and a burger when what he’d actually needed was one Denver and three burgers, and suddenly he looks sort of lost in the middle of the kitchen. “Uh. Sorry. I–”

“C’mon,” Robin cuts in, shutting off the sink and giving Steve a nudge towards the first aid kit by the back office. “Help me get some burn cream and a bandage on this and then let’s get back to work.”

Grateful for the new purpose, Steve follows her away from the grills, and just like that, the whole incident is over, never to be spoken of again. Robin jumps back onto the line a few minutes later and the three of them synchronize like nothing had ever happened.

But if Dennis and Carl are both a little faster to move out of Robin’s way now when she needs something – well. That’s their business.

#platonic stobin #robin buckley #steve harrington #protective steve harrington #you gotta imagine steve in the apron for this to really have the same effect that it had on my brain #honestly this was supposed to be sillier I'm sorry #stranger things #solar wrote

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thefreakandthehair · 7 months

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@eddiemonth prompt, oct 10th: College | Loser Denial - Heyrocco | Determined a/n: steddie, college au, really just fluffy getting together. un-betaed because I’m challenging myself to write these in under an hour. read on ao3 | link to masterpost on ao3

They say that the most basic human need is to feel a sense of belonging, to feel welcomed. Eddie’s yet to find that acceptance at Ivy Tech Community College in Fort Wayne, about 25 miles southeast of his hometown. He’d hoped that getting away from Hawkins and joining a program for automotive technology would give him a good shot at meeting some like-minded people but so far, it’s been nothing short of a bust.

Not only is he yet to touch a car because he’s had to focus on meaningless general education classes first, he’s made one friend. One single friend in the form of a lab partner, and he’s not actually sure if they’re even friends so much as they are two people forced into talking on a regular basis. But Eddie counts it, because it’s all he’s got for now.

Without his high school reputation and the safety of a familiar environment, college is an ominous beast with sharp teeth. Each day feels like stepping into a pasture with no shepherd, but he’s determined not to fail. Three attempts at graduating high school is enough failure for a lifetime. So yes, he counts his lab partner.

Besides, if they aren’t really friends yet, Eddie would like to be. Steve’s a good dude— not quite his normal type in company, sure, but he’s studying to become a nurse, he’s smart in a quick-witted non-traditional sort of way, and Eddie can’t imagine anyone being on the receiving end of that smile and not going a little wobbly in the knees.

Alright, so maybe Eddie wants a little more than friendship but he’s only greedy when the end goal seems possible. And determined as Eddie may be, he can’t imagine that he’s Steve type. Some days are harder than others though, like the days when they’re crammed next to each other in the library at tiny tables, or the days when they hang back in the lab to work through their latest experiment.

Today though? Today is downright painful.

Today, he’s in Steve’s fucking apartment. Steve’s tiny, off-campus apartment that he shares with someone named Robin who Eddie can only assume is his girlfriend. There are pictures of the two of them all over the place, distracting Eddie from the lab report they’re supposed to be working on. Words jump off the page in front of him as he sits cross legged on the floor with his back against the couch Steve’s sitting on. It doesn’t help that Steve’s sitting so close, his foot occasionally grazing Eddie’s side, his thigh close enough for Eddie to rest his head against.

Twice now, Steve’s leaned down over Eddie’s shoulders to get a closer look at the data chart, turning to face him close enough that their noses nearly touch. Eddie’s just about stopped breathing both times because his hair tickles Eddie’s ear and he smells so good.

Molecular weight. Boiling point. Propanol.

He tries his damndest to focus on his section, opting to take on the procedures and data analysis while Steve works on the lengthy conclusion section, but he just—

He can’t. Maybe he can’t be friends with Steve after all. Not when he’s sitting in his apartment, surrounded by happy pictures of Steve with his girlfriend, feeling his disappointment grow stronger and stronger. Through his haze, he barely recognizes Steve asking him a question.

“Hello? Eddie? Earth to Eddie Munson?” Steve nudges him gently in the shoulder with his knee. “We have to rank the order that the pure substances traveled through the column from fastest to slowest, and you’ve got the data.”

Eddie shakes his head, trying his best to hide his disappointment that Steve can’t be a friend because of his own stupid crush and that Steve can’t be more because well, he’s clearly spoken for and why wouldn’t he be? Who wouldn’t just fall ass over ankles for Steve?

Apparently, he already has.

“Uh, hey man, you good? Seriously, you’re kinda freaking me out.” Steve drops his papers on the coffee table and slides off the couch to kneel in front of Eddie. He reaches out and gently tips his chin up, probably checking for some kind of medical issue.

Stupid nursing program, Eddie thinks. But he just looks up, lets himself be guided by Steve soft, practiced hand and makes eye contact. Hazel, he thinks. I’ve never been close enough to notice that.

But he still hasn’t spoken and can see that Steve is truly starting to panic so he swallows and finds his tongue again.

“I’m fine, I’m good, promise. Just uh, just lost in thought. That’s a thing that I do a lot, you’ve seen my notebooks,” he tries to laugh it off but Steve doesn’t drop his hand. He simply slides it to the side, resting carefully on Eddie’s cheek. Eddie’s sure that Steve can feel it growing warmer beneath his touch.

“What about?” Steve asks, inquisitive. Eddie must be going insane because he swears he sees Steve’s eyes flicker between his gaze and his lips.

Eddie smiles, mostly fake but there’s something about Steve’s touch that does give him a reason to.

“Didn’t know you had a girlfriend, that’s all. Got a little lost looking at all the pictures, she seems awesome.”

Not that he’s thought too deeply about how Steve would react, but hysterical laughter wouldn’t have been one of them if he had. But that’s what he sees: Steve falling to the side, his face turning red, his hand slipping from Eddie’s cheek to his chest, and his elbow leaning on the coffee table as his entire body shakes with laughter.

What the fuck is going on here? Eddie wonders.

“That’s—” Steve tries to speak but takes several tries to get audible words out. “God, she knew that was gonna happen, I owe Robin $20.”

Eddie sits, stuck in place, his eyes wide and brows knitted tightly above his nose. “Robin? What was gonna happen? $20?”

“Oh my God, Eddie, I’m— no. Robin is the girl in these pictures, and she’s my best friend. She bet me $20 that the pictures were gonna throw you off and I thought I’d been obvious enough by now that you wouldn’t go down that route. But no, we’re definitely not dating. I’m uh, I’m not exactly her type.” Steve grins and slowly sits back upright, this time cross-legged to mirror Eddie’s position, their knees touching this time.

“How the fuck could you not be someone’s type?” Eddie lets slip, his mouth moving faster than his brain. No surprise there.

Before he can take it back, Steve just quirks one eyebrow up. “Well, unless I wake tomorrow a woman… not gonna happen. Did you miss that picture?”

Eddie follows Steve’s finger that’s pointing to the largest picture hung on the wall, one of them at a Pride event. Robin sits on Steve’s shoulders, wearing a flag of varying shades of reds, oranges, and purples like a cape around her neck. Steve’s smiling from ear to ear, otherwise dressed as he does every day save for the pink, purple, and blue stripes painted on his cheek.

It’s the largest picture in the room, and somehow, Eddie’s missed it completely.

“So yeah, not really her type. Is that why you’ve been so quiet? And completely ignoring all of my attempts to make a move?”

“A move? On what?” Eddie asks, incredulous.

Steve shrugs and leans forward, resting his palms on Eddie’s knees. “You, dumbass. Why else would we study here instead of the library?”

“Gonna level with you here, I didn’t even think about it. I figured you were just tired of me almost getting us kicked out for being too loud or something! That was not obvious, Steve.” Eddie’s heart pounds in his chest, hope clawing its way through a graveyard of isolation.

Steve just huffs a small laugh through his nose and bites his lower lip. “Let me be clearer, then. I like you. And maybe we can see if we’ve got as much chemistry as propanol and… whatever the fuck else was on that list, I don’t remember.”

It’s Eddie’s turn to laugh, wild and free as he throws his head back against the couch. When he looks back at Steve, his laughter lulls to a soft smile. “Jesus Christ, that was so bad and I can’t believe it’s about to work on me.”

“Yeah?” Steve grins, leaning closer, almost closing the distance.

Eddie nods, breathless. “Yeah.”

Terrible chemistry puns and pick up lines aside, kissing Steve does feel like a chemical reaction, one that deserves its own lab report.

His lips are soft, a little chapped to match Eddie’s, but he moves with intention and care, two things Eddie isn’t familiar with. He’s kissed before but not like this, not like his partner is trying to pour affection into him with every movement. Over time, he’ll grow to learn that that’s just how Steve is, all-in on everything he finds worth his time and energy.

Their lab report goes forgotten in favor of learning more about one another until Robin comes home hours later, thankfully after they’ve washed up and settled in on the couch in a much less precarious position.

“Aw, man,” she bemoans, dropping her bag next to the door with a loud thud. “I really thought the pictures were gonna cockblock you.”

Eddie elbows Steve in the side. “Pay up, Stevie. Be a man of your word. I don’t date men with poor integrity.”

“You two are gonna be the worse fucking tag team, goddamn it,” he mutters under his breath as he lifts his hips up to fish around for his wallet, tossing a $20 on the coffee table. “I don’t think it should count because it was fine once I explained!”

Robin grins, walking over to the couch and grabbing the bill off the table before making herself comfortable in the free corner next to Eddie.

“Eddie, I’ve heard a lot about you and I think we’re gonna be really good friends.”

He finds himself sandwiched between Steve and Robin for the rest of the night, comfortable and welcomed, as though he’s belonged there the whole time. The evening doesn’t end with Eddie making a friend out of Steve, but how can he complain when he finds so much more?

#steddie #steddie fic #steddie fanfic #steddie fanfiction #eddie month #eddie munson x steve harrington #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #st fic #myblurbs #this nearly got very out of hand but holding myself to that hour is proving very effective #eddie month prompts

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infinite-orangepeel · 7 months

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“get too close to your muse & you, the artist, will lose all ability to decipher one shade from the next on your palette. keep your distance…”

fall quarter begins at the curly roots of eddie munson’s ineffable head, runs its’ labyrinthian course through passageways of blue veins & black ink, & ends at a set of hairy crimson painted toes.

steve finds himself squandering every waking moment of his lifeblood & attention somewhere, egregiously, in the middle.

“say you’re drawing a bed of flowers,” his professor lectured a few weeks back, “what happens if you put your nose in the middle of those flowers & try to recreate the details on your canvas? you come up with color and shape, sure, but it’s blurry—isn’t it? it’s a big blobby blur of nothing. that’s not very good life drawing, i’m afraid.”

flash forward to the present—

the bed is firm but comfortable. reminding you of its’ presence.

it doesn’t encourage daydreaming &, yet, steve is ignoring the better advice of his mentor & pressing his curious nose directly into the bud of an all too striking flower.

he knows the intimate contact could kill the rose, is aware of the thorns lining the stem, but he can’t stay away.

he’s struck by fear and temptation and self-loathing and a beauty that stings like a slap across the face.

eddie’s his roommate, his friend, his muse for the most important project of steve’s career as an art student.

& getting too close is lethal, so he creates a sort of optical illusion.

designs an environment in which he can pretend they are star-crossed lovers in a broken world that won’t let them be together. in which touch is a small death each and every time.

steve flits to eddie like a dragonfly to water—

never touching.

never spending too much time in his orbit before making up an excuse to leave & jerk off to the smell of old cigarettes in the bathroom.

everything he really wants to say sits in the back of his throat like a painful, malignant lump & gets spat out onto his sketchbook in a tragically romantic exorcism.

doing the dishes next to him is enough to drive him insane.

drawing him, butt-naked, is another story.

“is it supposed to be so….erotic?”

eddie arches an eyebrow as steve traces the outline of his cock into his sketchbook.

“it’s not that erotic,” steve says, blushing into his charcoals, “besides no one will know it’s you. it’s art.”

art is supposed to be weird & naked. now, hold still, & let me draw you.”

it’s definitely erotic.

there are roses—de-thorned, for safety—shrouding eddie’s dick & leaving a trail of pink petals across his pale thighs.

eddie’s hand is draped over his head; exuding a certain brattiness, lust, boredom—

as if he’s lying there because he wants someone, like steve, to stumble upon him & use his body the way it so clearly needs to be.

his lips are parted on the precipice of whispering some filthy secret into steve’s ear while milking him like a simple farm girl with nothing better to do.

fuck.

he can’t be this close to eddie without losing his mind.

fuck. fuck. fuck.

it’s just a body. just limbs and a huge cock and—

eddie’s quiet for a little while which is rare for him, before he pipes up again.

“what if we painted the flowers together?”

steve wipes the sweat from his brow, drops his pencil, and looks up at eddie across the mattress. working overtime to avoid staring at the erection sticking out amongst the bouquet of roses.

“the piece isn’t supposed to be very colorful. i’m going for muted tones. that’s why i picked the pale pinks and whites.”

eddie giggles a little and, it’s so cute, steve has to pinch his own thigh through his shorts just to maintain composure.

“i don’t think you’re understanding—the colors wouldn’t change much. except for some more white, if you catch my drift,” eddie pumps his hand over his cock several times and mimes cumming stop the petals, “might look cool. might get you extra points with that asshole professor of yours. you’ve said he likes ‘shock value.’”

“i—i guess you’re right. that’s a pretty….different and unique….um….idea. yeah.”

it’s like this that steve strips naked and clambers as close to eddie as he can possibly get without laying a finger on him. adhering to the rules—keeping a particular distance between artist & muse.

they lay side by side. sunlight streaming in through the blinds & bathing eddie’s spindly fingers in gold as he touches himself.

“harrington, don’t act like you haven’t been dreaming about this since day one,” eddie snarks, “i’ve seen the way you look at me, sweetheart. your eyes are gonna burn holes in my ass if you’re not careful. touch that pretty cock of yours, lemme see you.”

before steve can do anything about it or change his mind, he’s got a fist wrapped around his own cock and the other hand pinching his nipples. left and right, back and forth, dragging his nails through the hair sprouting around them.

“didn’t think you thought about me like that,” steve whines, watching as eddie edges himself methodically—

moving faster, slower, squeezing at the base, thumbing over the slit, cupping his balls, slapping the insides of his own thighs until they match the pink petals.

“i like a little pain,” he comments when he catches steve’s wide eyes, “and i’ve always was hallucinating the first time i walked into this room and saw you on the bed—thought i was going into the light and seeing an angel.”

“you’re so full of it.”

“i’d like to be full of you,” eddie breathes against steve’s neck, not allowing his lips to pass the barrier, “but i don’t know if you can handle me, big boy. you’re blushing like a nervous little schoolgirl.”

“am not—”

“are too, &, you’re about to cum just listening to my voice. it’s so crystal clear. look at you—fucking yourself so stupid.”

eddie looks so beautiful.

laying there like a forsaken god locked out of heaven.

steve’s been so good about keeping his hands to himself, about keeping his nose out of the flowers, but desire and temptation are stronger than any amount of remaining willpower he has.

he grabs eddie’s shoulder with his freehand & kisses him until they’re both seeing stars.

celestial explosions of pleasure & truth & this thing that’s been growing violently between them since the moment they first met.

“i’m cumming. i’m gonna—fuck steve, it’s gonna be on the flowers—i hope that’s okay—”

they cum in tandem over petals of pink and white and thornless stems.

steve gets an A+.

taglist (message me to be added or removed at any time <3): @estrellami-1 @disastardly @ilovecupcakesandtea @the-redthread @asbealthgn @bestofbucky @vampireinthesun @carlyv @shrimply-a-menace @lordrrascal @malachitedevil @anxiouseds @gay-little-bitch @jhrc666 @pinkdaisies1998 @perseus-notjackson @eiddets @corroded-coffin-groupie @three-possums-playing-human @stevesbipanic @plutoshelm @arkenstoned @indiearr @they-reap-what-we-sow @gleek4twd @bunnyweasley23 @livingoutload @a-little-unsteddie @novelnovella @neverlandwaitingforme @swiss-cheeze

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glitterfang · 7 months

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steddie mass effect au

#steddie #steddie fanart #turian steve harrington #mass effect au

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inklessletter · 11 months

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Hey babe, remember this? Well-

Is this shit recording yet?

#stranger things #steddie #art #fanart #steddie art #steve harrington #eddie munson #old camera effect #yes #you are thinking correctly #they are about to make a sex tape #inklessletter #trust the process 2.0

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strangersteddierthings · 3 months

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No Regrets - Part Six

Part One🦇 Part Two🦇Part Three🦇Part Four🦇Part Five🦇Part Six

Eddie hasn't spoken a word since they found him in the boat house. Chief Powell told Nancy this on the phone, calling on Eddie's behalf, and another officer tells them again when they say they're here to pick him up.

Steve has a vague memory of this. He didn't go with to pick up Eddie last time, it was... Wayne? Maybe? The ache in Steve's head, the sign he's come to realize means he's changed something, is the indicator that's true. It means Wayne didn't go pick up El and the others last time, the original time?

Whatever. Steve can't be worried about that; it doesn't matter anymore how it went last time. Last timeline ended with him dead, dying?, so he's fine with forgetting it.

"Hey Eddie," Nancy greets as she stands in front of Eddie. He's just sat in a chair in the lobby area, staring straight ahead but not looking at anything. His eyes are vacant in a way that brings a sense of déjà vu to Steve. "Wayne asked us to pick you up."

Eddie doesn't even acknowledge that she's there.

"Eddie?" Nancy asks, leaning down just a little to put her face in Eddie's view. "Come on. Let's go."

"Nance," Steve says, digging the keys from his pocket, "can you get the car and park closer to the front door? I'll get Eddie."

Nancy turns to look at him, eyes flitting about his face before she nods, reaching out to take the keys.

Steve steps into the place she vacated in front of Eddie and squats. Gets eye level even if Eddie isn't looking back. "Hey, Eddie. It's Steve. Uh, Steve Harrington. Wayne couldn't come get you, he has something else he had to do, but I'm here to take you home."

It's barely there, but Eddie flinches at 'home.' It looks more like a twitch of his shoulder, and it could have been, but Steve thinks it's more than that.

"We don't have to go in. There's- across the road from you is Max Mayfield's house. You ever meet her?" Steve just talks, tries to keep his voice calm, conversational. "We can wait at Max's place for your uncle to get home. Just. We gotta go, man. Can't sit here in the police station all day." Steve reaches for Eddie's hand, to grab and try to coax him into standing. Except, as soon as Steve's fingers make contact, Eddie jerks back and Eddie finally looks at him, eyes snapping to Steve's face. He's not present, not really; he still kind of looks like he's looking beyond Steve rather than at him.

"Sorry, sorry," Steve says, just as softly. "I won't touch. But your uncle asked us to get you, so, please. We gotta go."

"Harrington?"

Oh. Oh no. It's only now that he's faced with looking directly at Eddie, faced with having Eddie looking directly at him that he thinks he might not be ready. He's not it turns out. He's not ready to face Eddie, not when he has memories of- of-

"And Buckley," Robin is suddenly here, pushing into Steve's space. Getting in Eddie's face. "And we are going to be heading to Forest Hills. So, unless you, like, want to spend the day the lovely police force of Hawkins, I suggest getting out of that chair and following us."

How can she have ever been worried about not being able to read his mind anymore?

"Right," Eddie says, more to himself than to Robin. He does go to stand, though, so Steve does, too. Puts some distance between himself and Eddie.

Steve leads the way to the car as Eddie follows behind like a ghost.

Except, it's Steve that's the ghost, isn't it? Does- does the future continue to go even without Steve there? Even as he changes how things went, or are going?

If it keeps going how long was Eddie trapped in his hold? Held by a selfish dead man who wasn't kind enough to not tell Eddie how he feels. Felt?

He looks to Eddie from the corner of his eye before he climbs into the passenger seat. Definitely how he still feels.

"I used your radio to get a hold of Dustin," Nancy says as they pull away from the curb. "He's on his way back to Max's from Cerebro. He got through to the walkie we sent with Wayne. We should all be together in an hour."

"Where'd you send my uncle? Why did he agree to go?" Eddie asks from the backseat.

"That's a loaded question, Munson," Robin answers, "but we'll explain it. Just, uh, just know that we believe you, and we know you didn't do anything to Chrissy."

"I didn't!"

"We know!" Robin placates, and Steve twists in his seat to he can see her. She's behind the driver's seat so he can see her without looking at Eddie. "We know. I swear we'll explain everything. Just when your uncle gets back, okay?"

Eddie doesn't verbally respond but Steve sees Robin nodding back to him so that's that.

There isn't any more talking the rest of the drive. Nancy parks next to her mom's car in front of Max's place and hands Steve's keys back to him before she climbs out. Eddie and Robin are next. Steve remains seated, listens as Robin says something about 'going home later' before he sees Eddie head towards Max's front door. He doesn't even pause to look in at Steve as he walks by.

Why would he? This Eddie doesn't know him. They're not bonded by five years of surviving hell together. This Eddie doesn't know anything about him, and Steve knows his whole life.

Robin startles him by pulling open his door to say, "you coming in?"

He looks from Robin to where Nancy and Eddie have disappeared into the trailer. "I don't- I can't. Robin, I can't."

"Hey, it's okay," Robin assures him, "it's okay. We can stay out here until you're ready."

Steve swallows thickly before nodding. She's squat beside the door, hand on the roof for support and the other on Steve. Also for support, but of the emotional kind. "I think I'm in love with him, and he barely tolerates me. It took a couple months for him to warm up to me, and that was with the help of an apocalypse. Will he even-" like me without it? He doesn't finish but the frown that comes to Robin's face lets him know he doesn't need to.

"Of course, he will. He did once before."

Steve turns from Robin to look out the front windshield. "Yeah. Maybe."

"I'll go in and let them know you need some time. Come in when you're ready," she squeezes his knee and then she's gone.

This time will be different. Vecna has to die today, because tomorrow he goes after Max and that's not acceptable. He won't let that happen. He's going to stop the end of the world before it begins. And then he doesn't know what will happen.

Will life just go on? Will he still remember a future that never was?

If he doesn't remember, will his feelings for Eddie go with the memories? That thought hurts, but if it's true, the pain is only temporary.

Steve doesn't know how long he just sits in the passenger seat of his car, staring off into space, just knows it was long enough that Wayne and the Cali crew arrive. It's the slamming of the van doors that brings him back to himself.

He twists to look over his shoulder and the first person he sees is Mike, who is, Steve thinks, not glaring at him for the first time in his life. Jonathan is standing next to him. He and Mike have a short conversation before Mike walks across the street, coming to a stop about 5 feet from Steve.

"Why are you just sitting in the passenger seat of your car with the door open?" Mike asks, voice full of his usual judgement. "Are you buckled in?"

Steve looks down and frowns. Yes, he is still buckled in. He unbuckles and climbs from his car. Mike eyes Steve warily the whole time.

"He not out yet?" Wayne's voice carries across the way and Steve looks to the Munson's home. Wayne is on the front step, the door behind him open.

"Over here! We're at Max's," Steve throws a thumb over his shoulder and it brings Wayne quickly. He's not running, but it's damn close. "Just let yourself in."

Wayne speed walks passed. Steve stays and watches as Will and El round the van and join Jonathan. Will looks like he wants to barf. Steve's not surprised by that; he's still got some sort of connection to the Upside Down. It's El who looks different.

Her entire demeanor is unlike Steve's ever known her. For the first time ever, she just looks like a scared little girl.

She takes the first step towards Steve and her brothers follow.

She stops in front of Steve, cocking her head at him. Steve looks down at her and mimics the motion. Her hair is the longest he's seen it and her face has turned serious. "You're different."

Steve nods. "So are you."

El lifts a hand up and touches it to Steve's temple. She looks confused for having done it, about as confused as Steve feels, but her confusion turns into a surprised gasp and a trickle of blood slides out her nose.

"El," Mike rushes in, shoving at Steve to make him take a step back and break their contact.

"I am fine," El says, though she looks like whole new person. Her shoulders square and she stands taller. Her eyes look as haunted as Steve remembers.

"Oh shit. You're my El," Steve says, which gets all the boys to give him odd looks.

"I am sorry for what I have done to you," she says, as no-nonsense and militant as he remembers her. "I could not go back myself, but I could piggyback on someone."

"Why me?"

"You were in Hawkins, and I knew you would do what needed to be done."

"What is happening?" Jonathan asks.

El turns to Jonathan and says, "we are going to stop the end of the world."

@skepsiss @i-less-than-three-you @nburkhardt @afewproblems @a-little-unsteddie @steviesummer @queenie-ofthe-void @lololol-1234 @synonym-for-strange @tchackdaw @blackpanzy @goodolefashionedloverboi

#steddie #my fic #apocalypse au #time travel au #butterfly effect au #morally grey steve harrington

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