#more than anything steve just wants to be LOVED. and eddie would make damn fucking sure he always is

[sp0o0kylights]

Wayne takes in a Beat to Shit Steve Harrington after Starcourt as n Owed Favor to Hopper Part 4

Part Three: link

First Chapter (parts 1-3 on tumblr) on A03: Link

The kid was madder than a wet hen.

Just as slippery as one too, when he got like this--music pulsing like a living thing to signal all his rage and upset. 

Not like Wayne hadn’t expected it. 

He just wished it wasn’t quite so damn loud. 

The music had started up almost immediately after Eddie had stormed to his room, startling Steve awake and nearly making Wayne curse for it.

Normally it was a good thing--music meant Eds was willing to listen instead of heading for the hills.  

Normally, they didn't have a house guest who looked like he'd gone ten rounds with a bear.

They had a routine for this, was the thing and the music was a key part of it. It worked all the edges off for Wayne, and he'd long figured out that about thirty minutes was a the perfect length of time for Eddie to stew before he could actually talk things through.

Given the hand Harrington put to his forehead, Wayne wasn't eager to give him that thirty minutes.

Not when Steve deserved little peace he could have.

Unfortunately, so did Eds. 

Still.

 Strutting through the door and demanding to talk right now was a bad move and so, with a sympathetic look given to Steve, Wayne did what he did best

Gave space.

Let Eddie rage, as Wayne got up and shuffled about the kitchen.

Pulled out the soft earplugs he pretended weren’t there for Eds to steal (playing that damn loud guitar all the time could not be good for his ears) and offered them to Steve, before making two cups of what Wayne privately thought was the Munson “chitchat” drink. 

One cup of hot water, one packet swiss miss, a small amount of maple syrup drizzled in, topped with little marshmallows they reserved for these types of situations. 

Wayne took his time with it, thinking through what he wanted to say. 

‘I understand that this is a screen door on a submarine kind of situation...’ 

Nope. 

‘Son I know you hate listening to anyone for anything but this is serious...’ 

Absolutely not--that would end up with the boy bolting for sure. 

‘Ed’s, I love you but could we please turn Ozzy off while we talk? That man wails louder than any damn cat I have ever met.’

That one was purely self indulgent, mostly because the wall was starting to shake. 

Wayne put the finishing touches on the cocoa before staring at both of them. 

Perhaps if he stared the Garfield mug in its eyes hard enough, the right words would come through. 

They did not.

He kept trying, standing there long enough for the cocoa to reasonably have cooled and for Eddie’s song to flip over to something with more screaming in it than singing. 

Wayne supposed that this was the hardest part of being a parent. You just didn’t get to have the magical one liner. The right thing to say at just the right time.  

The joke that would ease all the tension and let things progress forward nice and easy.

Instead, you got to fumble your way through the dark with a flashlight up your ass and hope you were going in the right-ish direction. Ideally without making things worse. 

Wayne was here though, and that had to count for something. 

(Knew it counted for something--because Eddie was still here. 

They had cleared hurdles far higher than this when it came to trust. They’d get through this too, come what may. 

Steve too.)

“Can I just ask,” Eddie started, aggressive as always when Wayne finally gave in and entered his room, feeling all sorts of awful for the migraine Steve had to have, “what the absolute fuck is happening?” 

Sure as fire he was sitting on his bed, leg bouncing a mile a minute.

An unlit cigarette hung between two fingers, looking a little chewed on, but otherwise undisturbed--as it should be, because one of Wayne’s few rules was that smoke stayed outside the house. 

“You could.” Wayne said loudly but agreeably, as he turned himself around and dropped down next to his kid.  

Held out the Garfield mug, and was happy when it was taken from him. 

“Figured you might have other things to say, though.” 

Likely a lot of things. 

It was as good an opening as any, and his kid didn’t disappoint, launching right to it. 

“Why is he here and not at a hospital?”

 ‘Here’ was punctuated by Ed’s hand winging towards the door, and while it wasn’t the righteous fury Wayne expected, it was at least, an easy answer to give. 

“Steve has some people looking for him. Bad people. Hospital makes him an easy target.” 

Wayne was still talking loud. Could only hear Eddie himself because he was looking at the kid’s lips more than he was actually hearing his voice. 

Eddie took that in, swallowing it about as well as he’d swallowed anything he hadn’t liked. 

And thank the stars above, he finally reached a hand out and turned the music down. Not a lot--Steve wouldn’t be able to hear them over all this--but enough that Wayne didn’t have to struggle. 

“We’re hiding him from the cops now?!” Ed’s spat. 

“Cops know he’s here. Hopper’s the one who asked me to take him.” Wayne reminded him, because it was the truth. 

Not the full truth, but given how Ed’s pissed off half the local PD on a good day, Wayne absolutely did not want to see his nephew take on Federal Agents.

(Particularly not the kind who were going ‘round killing kids.) 

“So--what?” Eddie yanked hard on his hair, a gesture that looked less intentional and more like he was trying to fight his own anger down. “Hopper just called you up and said ‘Hey, we had a whoopsie with the rich kid, the hospital’s not safe anymore. Can we stash him with you for a few days?” 

Wayne nodded once, slow-like. 

Always remembered how too fast movements had made Eddie flinch and jerk back when was littler, and given the way Steve was looking, figured it was a good time to be cautious again. 

“He did.”

“And you just--agreed? Just like that!?” 

“I did.” 

He pretended not to see Eddie boggle at him at the simple admission, so furious that he seemed to struggle for words when he normally had too many to say. 

Wayne took advantage. 

“We did talk a bit more than that, I’ll admit.”

Ed’s scoffed. “About the weather I’m sure.” 

“‘Bout trust.” 

Eddie blinked at that. 

“Trust.” He echoed flatly. 

“What have I always told you? People like to ask you to trust them, but you they don’t get to have it until--” 

“They provide proof or a reason.” Eddie finished with an eyeroll. “So which did Hopper provide then?”

Wayne took a noisy sip of his coca. Smacked his lips a little before saying: “Both.” 

Didn’t bother to say anything else, because he knew Eddie would finish the thought for him. 

“One of them was me, wasn’t it.” 

Eds didn’t say it like a question, but Wayne hummed in agreement anyway. 

He wasn’t gonna shame his boy, but he wasn’t gonna sugar coat Eddie’s involvement in this either. Not when he’d already admitted that was half the reason Hopper had gone to Wayne to begin with. 

“No one is expecting Steve to be here.” He said, seeing the chance to hammer home the most important part of this entire shitshow. “So long as no one finds out he’s here, he’ll be safe. Everyone will be safe.” 

Steve from the Feds who were hunting him for while he was busy being involved in shit he couldn’t control and Eddie because he had a mouth that most people didn’t like. 

Not small town people anyway, and absolutely not authority figures with guns. 

“Who’s even after him?” Eddie was theatrical as always, hands waving away as he talked. “Did he make a deal with the mob? Piss off some other rich guy? I know it’s not anything drug related, I’d have heard about it by now.” 

After years of experience, Wayne knew exactly how far to lean away to stay out of range, too used to his nephew talking with his entire body.

“That’s his story to tell ya, Ed’s. It ain’t mine. Same way it ain’t my place to tell him your story.” 

That at least got the boy to think for a minute. Put down that frustration he carried with him all the time, and use the brain they both knew he had. 

“How long is he staying here?”

Wayne shrugged. “Don’t know.” 

Eddie sighed and mockingly mimicked Wayne, taking an obnoxious slurp of his cocoa. “The neighbors are going to notice if he’s here more than a few days. The trailer park isn’t exactly big.” 

“They didn’t notice that time you decided to make fireballs with the cooking spray and about blew up half the driveway. Don’t think they’re gonna notice someone being quiet in the house.” 

Eddie snorted, and probably rolled his eyes again, not that Wayne could see it given the kid was looking into his own mug as he thought it all through. 

Wayne sat with him as he processed. 

Eds worked at his own pace with things, and while life at large might be against that, Wayne was happy to let him do it. Found it easier that way, then trying to poke and prod and force him like so many father figures did. 

Wayne’s patience was rewarded not even a full minute later, when Eddie turned to him and asked; 

“What if he finds out?”  

This in a quieter voice. An unsure one--words and body hunching in a way unlike the Eddie the world outside knew, but very much like the little boy Wayne had brought inside his home. 

It took Wayne  a moment to connect the dots--he’d been speaking out of the place parents and authority figures often do, and in doing so hadn’t thought much of the fact his nephew had a real secret. 

The kind small town minds didn’t like--and would kill him over. 

This all wasn’t about Wayne taking in Steve, he realized abruptly.  It was that Steve being here meant Eddie couldn’t be himself. 

Could not relax in a place he was accepted for who he was, because Wayne knew and made sure Eddie understood he was wanted here, had a place here, regardless of who he loved. 

Now, Wayne had gone and removed it.

‘Shit.’ 

“He won’t.” Wayne said. 

Knew that wasn’t enough, and so, promised: “But if he does, I’ll make sure he understands his safety here relies on your own.” 

Ed’s chin jerked in a nod, the two of them sitting in silence for a moment before the boy did as he often did when he wanted a hug but felt too awkward to ask for one, and tipped himself into Wayne’s side. 

“Thanks old man.” Eddie whispered into his shoulder and not for the first time, Wayne wished things were easier for the poor kid as he put his mug in one hand and hugged his kid with the other. 

Hoped that in the future, it would be.

Even if he had to force everyone and everything coming after him--and now Steve--to do it.

(Wondered vaguely, how bad it was that he was already getting as protective as Steve as he was of his own kid.

Probably very, given his kid clearly hated Harrington.)

xXx

Wayne took the first night of Steve’s stay off.

He wasn’t the type to use his PTO lightly. Was used to rationing it for any possible thing Eddie might need him for.

A night up sick when he was younger, to a night spent chasing him down during some of their bad spots--but the last year or so Wayne had slowly realized he hadn’t had to use it much.

He was still careful with it though, precious as it was, and was thankful for it now as it ensured his nephew didn’t murder their house guest. 

Or at the very least, didn't sit there pecking at him.

The kid might've failed English a few times, but he had a real gift with words and an even better one with insults.

(Wayne wasn't quite clear on what all the "King" jabs were about, and absolutely did not get why Steve looked far more hurt at the comment about his "sad ass floppy hair" but given the increasingly flat look Steve was throwing Eddie's way, Wayne figured it couldn't be anything good.)

Thankfully a pointed reminder about Steve's injuries had finally gotten them all some peace, enough for Harrington to drop back to sleep--and for Wayne to realize he looked a little too dead while he did it to be comfortable getting any sleep himself.

The kids chest barely moved, and that it ate at Wayne’s until he got up and shoved a hand under his nose. 

Felt his breath, and told himself the poor sod was fine. 

Hurt, absolutely, but alive. 

Over and over again, until the sun had made its rotation in the sky, bringing the morning with it.

‘Better than nightmares, I suppose.’ Wayne figured, as exhaustion scraped at his eyelids.

Those Wayne knew, would come later. When Steve’s brain caught up to the rest of him, and stopping dumping survival chemicals through his battered body. 

He'd given up on sleep entirely sometime around 1 am, and now he sat at his small kitchen table, writing out a medication schedule for Harrington so he and the kid both knew when he could have his next Tylenol. 

Wasn’t even halfway through it before Eddie made his typically late appearance and blew through his door. 

Had his back up from the moment he’d stepped a foot in the kitchen and it didn’t take a genius to see he’d worked himself into a snit again.

Unfortunately for him, whatever scenario that imaginative brain of his had cooked up fell flat to the reality that was the poor kid on the couch. 

Steve Harrington was one a hell of a sight.

Didn’t help that he was doing his level best to make himself as small as possible, curled deep into Wayne's ancient couch.

The blankets covered the ribs and hid away most of the damage, but there wasn’t much Steve could do to hide the shiners on his face--or the marks around his neck.  

Not when they’d grown worse overnight, practically inviting questions.

It was almost laughable how quickly Eddie ate whatever words he’d prepared, mouth awkwardly chewing around them as if they were tangible. 

The less-than-sneaky looks he threw at the younger teen were equally amusing, and if Wayne wasn’t trying to peace keep, he’d have given in and chuckled when Eds split attention caused him to pour half his coffee into the sink rather than a cup. 

Looked utterly lost when, after finishing putting his coffee together and grabbing some junk food thing that absolutely was not a breakfast item, he came to stand awkwardly at Wayne's shoulder, openly staring as Steve blatantly ignored him.

Eds didn’t know what to do, and Wayne couldn't blame him. 

Seemed to keep thinking he was going to encounter a boy that likely no longer existed, and whose blood tinged specter just made things sad.

Shit like this, Wayne knew, took a man’s ego and warped it, shaping it to something else entirely. 

At least for Steve, it seemed that getting wrapped up in whatever mess he had had shaped him for the better, instead of pretzeling him into something worse. That, Wayne thought, spoke to the boy's character more than anything he’d done prior. 

(It helped to know what Hopper tolerated and what he didn’t. That he’d vouched for Steve in the same way Wayne knew he’d vouched for Eddie, even if Eddie didn’t yet realize the cop he antagonized so much would do that for him.) 

That didn't erase the history his kid had with Harrington, though.

Wouldn't stop him from seeing the old Steve, first.

‘Don’t you got school?” Wayne asked when he decided Ed had stared enough. 

“Yeah, yeah.” Eddie waved him off, trotting out the door. “Bye old man, house parasite!” 

It was clearly a jab, meant to nettle, but Steve barely acted like he heard it. 

Wayne rolled his eyes. 

“Goodbye, Eds.” He said firmly, much of a warning as he ever gave, and fondly watched his nephew scuttle out the door. 

Turned to see how Steve was taking things, and was once again given a reminder that Steve wasn’t doing a hell of a lot other than feeling his injuries. 

“I think I promised you a game, son.”  Wayne said gently, startling Steve out of the distant, dim look he had trained on the wall. 

It wasn’t a lot to offer in terms of a distraction, but it would have to do.

[solarmorrigan]

Hands Where I Can See Them, Part 4

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

The only thing Eddie is dreading as much as Steve’s return for his things is Wayne’s inevitable question about where Steve is at all.

After all, Steve has practically been living with them for weeks – something that Eddie may not have allowed himself to consider the significance of, but which Wayne cannot have failed to notice. Though Steve had (apparently) felt the need to do things around the trailer to stay in Wayne’s good graces, he really didn’t have to worry about it; Wayne likes him, and he’ll be asking sooner or later just where Steve has gone.

‘Sooner’ comes two nights after Eddie royally fucks things over. It’s Wayne’s night off, and there’s really no avoiding him; their new trailer is bigger than the last, but it’s still close quarters, and Eddie gets caught when he passes through the living room to get a drink from the kitchen.

“Noticed Steve isn’t here tonight,” Wayne says, blunt as hell, because he doesn’t see the point in doing things any other way.

“Nope,” Eddie says shortly, grabbing a glass from the cabinet and filling it from the tap.

“Wasn’t here last night, either,” Wayne goes on.

“He was not,” Eddie confirms.

“Wasn’t here when I got in yesterday morning,” Wayne says.

“You are a veritable font of observation tonight,” Eddie says, only a little snarky.

Wayne shrugs. “Hard not to notice when he’s here nine days out of ten, then suddenly up and disappears,” he says. He pauses a moment before adding, “Stuff’s gone from the bathroom, too.”

Eddie occupies himself with slowly swallowing down half his glass of water before he answers. “Yeah.”

“Don’t suppose he’s going on a trip,” Wayne doesn’t quite ask, and Eddie lets out a bitter sort of laugh.

“Loving the optimism from you, but no, not… not so much.”

There are a few beats of silence, and then Wayne lets out a slow sigh. Eddie knows him well enough to understand the sound of it – he’s just decided to get involved.

“You two have a fight?”

“Something like that,” Eddie mutters.

“Well that’s vague as hell, son. You have a fight, or didn’t you?” Wayne prods.

Slowly, Eddie shakes his head. “No, I– I don’t think so. I think it was all me,” he says, finally looking up from his glass and meeting Wayne’s questioning gaze. “I fucked up, Wayne.”

There’s no immediate judgement coming from Wayne, no suspicion or scorn, not even a shake of the head and some variation of “Of course you did.” There’s only a measured sort of curiosity in his stare, the same way it’s been since Eddie was a kid and Wayne was trying to figure him out; it’s sort of comforting in its familiarity, in its neutrality.

“You wanna tell me about it?” Wayne asks.

Eddie knows that if he says no, Wayne will let it go. He might keep sending curious and worried looks Eddie’s way, he might ask a few more prodding questions over the next few days, but he won’t make Eddie say anything he doesn’t want to. And Eddie doesn’t really want to – but he thinks that maybe he needs to.

“If… you had to define mine and Steve’s relationship, what would you say?” Eddie asks after a moment.

Wayne cocks an eyebrow at him. “I’d say that feels like a trick question.”

Eddie lets out a little huff of a laugh. “It’s not, I swear. I’m seriously curious,” he says. “There are no wrong answers – go.”

“Well,” Wayne says, still eyeing Eddie consideringly, “I don’t know if you kids put labels on things these days or what, but from the outside, I’d say you’re dating. I’d say that boy is fully in love with you and that you’re at least halfway to loving him back.”

“Right.” Eddie gives a jerky nod. “Seems like that’s what pretty much everyone thinks.”

“But that’s not what’s going on,” Wayne takes a guess.

“Well, that depends on your perspective,” Eddie says, a little high and tight.

“Well, the only perspectives worth a damn here’re yours’n Steve’s,” Wayne shoots back. “So what would those be?”

Eddie drains the last of his water, turning away to put the glass in the sink. “Steve… shares your perspective. Or, uh– he did. But I… I didn’t realize he was so serious. I thought we were just kind of messing around.”

The silence from behind Eddie is so thick that he can’t help but finally turn around and meet Wayne’s gaze again.

“That’s a hell of a blind spot, Ed,” Wayne says simply, and Eddie folds in on himself a bit, crossing his arms over his chest. His main defense has always been to become larger than life – to make big gestures and even bigger speeches, but everything about this situation makes him feel like nothing so much as small.

“Yeah,” he says quietly.

“So, what, you figured out how serious he was and thought you didn’t want that?” Wayne asks, and Eddie hunches a little further in on himself.

“Nope. No, that– would’ve been better, actually. If that’s what happened. But that’s not what happened, because did I mention I fucked up? Because I seriously fucked up.” Eddie’s rambling is stemmed by an expectant look from Wayne. “It’s just – the other night, when the guys were over, we got to talking about it. The whole… me and Steve thing. As in, they thought me and Steve were a thing. And they asked me about it. While Steve was out of the room. And then he, uh. Hm.” Eddie rubs a hand nervously over his chin. “He walked back in when I was in the middle of telling them that he's just a friend and that we’re just having fun. And that’s… when I found out how serious he was.”

“Eddie…”

“I know. I know!” Eddie doesn’t even have to look at Wayne to catch the disappointment coming off of him, so he doesn’t. He scrubs hands over his face and then just leaves him there, telling the rest of the story to his palms. “He was so fucking upset, Wayne, I think– I think I actually made him cry? And the only reason he hasn’t been here to get the rest of his stuff out of the trailer yet is because he was down with a migraine the next day. Like, I hurt him so badly I made him physically ill. So I didn’t just fuck up, but I’m actually a horrible human being and should probably spend the rest of my days living in isolation so I don’t ruin anyone else’s life.”

Wayne is silent for so long that Eddie is eventually forced to peek out from behind his fingers.

“You’re not gonna tell me how bad I fucked up?” Eddie asks, still a bit muffled.

“Seems like you have that covered already,” Wayne says, then he holds up one arm in offer, nodding towards the empty spot beside him on the couch. “C’mere.”

He doesn’t need to ask Eddie twice. No matter how old he gets, Eddie doesn’t think a genuine hug from his uncle will ever stop being comforting, and regardless of whether or not he thinks he actually deserves it right now, he’s going to take it. He crashes down onto the couch and leans heavily into Wayne’s side, sighing as Wayne wraps his arm around his shoulders.

“You’re not a bad person, Ed. You made a mistake, s’all,” Wayne says, and Eddie scoffs.

“Pretty big fucking mistake,” he mutters.

“Yep, that was a doozy. You hurt someone you care about, and you might not be able to fix it all the way. But that doesn’t make you terrible. Makes you human.” Wayne gives Eddie a comforting squeeze. “And Steve ain’t a bad person, either. He’ll know you mean it when you tell him you’re sorry.”

“Yeah,” Eddie says quietly.

“You think about what you’re gonna do when he does show to get the rest of his stuff?” Wayne asks.

“Besides grovel?” Eddie shoots back.

“I mean, what’re you gonna grovel for?”

Eddie lets out a long breath. “I… I know I might not be able to fix it, but I just – I want the chance to try. I’m hoping he’ll just give me that chance.” Eddie pauses for a moment, choked by the dread of the thought that Steve might not give him that chance. “Things don’t have to go back to the way they were, but I at least want him to know that even if I’m shit at showing it, I do care.”

“Sounds like a decent place to start,” Wayne says.

“Think so?” Eddie asks.

“Mm.”

“Well… I hope Steve thinks so, too.”

Wayne gives his shoulders another squeeze and says nothing more, but he doesn’t really have to. He’s already settled Eddie’s nerves more than he’d thought possible; just this is more than enough.

Now Eddie just has to try to hold onto the feeling long enough to talk to Steve.

-

It turns out, Eddie doesn’t have to hold onto the feeling for very long at all; the very next morning—two days after Robin had read Eddie the riot act and left him to begin tentatively planning—another knock comes at the door.

It’s ten in the morning – not as early as Eddie had expected, but early enough that he’s not long out of bed when he opens the door to find Steve on the other side.

In contrast to Eddie’s sweatpants and t-shirt, Steve looks like he’s trying very hard to look like he’s alright. His polo is clean and tucked in, the collar is straight, his hair is as perfectly styled as ever – but there’s still something off. There are dark circles under his eyes, stark against a paler than normal complexion, and none of the ease or contentment that Eddie has grown used to shines from his face. He feels a little like he wants to mourn its absence.

“Hey,” Steve says, nodding in greeting.

“Hey,” Eddie says back, because for all his thoughts and planning, he hadn’t really considered how to start this encounter.

“I came to get my shit out of your way,” Steve says, and Eddie frowns.

It’s not in my way, he wants to say. You’re not in my way. Leave your stuff. Stay.

“Uh. Yeah, sure,” Eddie says instead, stepping aside to let Steve in.

Steve is carrying a cardboard box, but doesn’t seem to have anything or anyone else in tow. For as spread throughout Eddie’s life as Steve has become, he wonders if all of him will fit into that one box.

“Kinda surprised you didn’t bring Buckley to help pack,” Eddie says, glancing back out the screen door, as if Robin might appear out of nowhere.

“Just dropped her off at work,” Steve says. “I figured she probably already had… words for you when she picked up my meds, and I didn’t think any of us needed an encore.”

“I don’t know,” Eddie says quietly. “The stuff she said got me thinking.”

In the process of grabbing a jacket he’d left behind off one of the hooks by the door, Steve only glances back at Eddie. “I’m sure she had a lot to say,” he says, carefully neutral.

“Yeah. She, uh – definitely did. Can we talk?” Eddie asks.

Steve sighs. “Eddie…”

“Just hear me out, please. Then I’ll get out of your way and let you pack in peace, I promise,” Eddie says.

“We don’t– have to talk about it,” Steve says, turning back to face Eddie. “Look, I’m sorry for putting my weird expectations on you. I was reading into stuff that wasn’t there, and I made assumptions instead of just talking to you, and that’s on me. So I’m gonna just – get out of your hair, and you won’t have to deal with my stupid, delusional bullshit anymore.”

“No, that’s not– Steve–” Eddie reaches out for Steve as he tries to brush past on his way to the bedroom, where most of his belongings are. He gets a hand around Steve’s bicep and, though Steve doesn’t jerk away this time, he goes stiff and still beneath Eddie’s touch, prompting Eddie to let go.

It hurts; even though Eddie’s done it to himself, the reaction still hurts. He’s always reached for Steve in the past, always had his hands on him, and Steve had always welcomed him, even before they’d started sleeping together. Now, Eddie takes a step back, forcing himself to give Steve some space.

“That’s not what I want to say at all,” he says. “I mean – I would’ve liked if we’d talked about it, because then I would’ve known, and I could’ve appreciated what it was – what we were doing.”

Steve turns back to face Eddie, his gaze snapping straight to him with equal suspicion and confusion. “What?”

“Steve, you weren’t reading into things that weren’t there, you’re not– you’re not stupid or delusional, I was just – I was sending you mixed signals,” Eddie says. “I was so wrapped up in thinking that I knew what was going on, that I didn’t look at what I really had, and I’m sorry. But if I knew, if I’d just gotten my head out of my ass, you have to believe that in a heartbeat, I would have–”

“Don’t,” Steve cuts in sharply.

“Steve–”

“I don’t need whatever this is, Eddie,” Steve snaps. “You don’t need to have pity on your pathetic ex-whatever I am to you, okay? It’s okay, just– just let it go.”

“This isn’t pity,” Eddie insists with an incredulous little laugh. “It’s fucking not, I swear! This is me saying that I fucked up and I hurt you and I want to make it up to you. I haven’t done anything to deserve it, but I want the chance to show you how sorry I am and how much you mean to me– in whatever capacity you’ll let me.”

“Whatever capacity?” Steve stares at him, brows furrowed.

“Whatever you’ll be comfortable with. As a friend, or… as more, if that bridge hasn’t burned,” Eddie says.

“What, so now I’m relationship material?” Steve asks, pointed.

Eddie winces. “I shouldn’t have said that. I shouldn’t have said any of that, and if I could go back in time and slap myself upside the head before I let any of that shit out and hurt you with it, I would. I know that… I know I didn’t pay enough attention to you, but I also wasn’t paying very much attention to how I was feeling,” he says. “Because honestly? I’m kind of a moron, Steve. I’ve never had sex with someone I really liked, with someone who was anything like a friend, and when I started wanting to be around you all the time, and always wanting you within reach, and when every little thing started to remind me of you, I just thought… yeah, this is what friends-with-benefits feels like. Y’know, like a fucking idiot.”

Steve doesn’t laugh. “I don’t know if I can trust you on that,” he says softly, and that’s fair.

It hurts, but it’s fair.

“Then let me earn your trust back. Please, Steve, just… give me the chance,” Eddie implores, doesn’t even care that he’s basically begging – Eddie doesn’t beg, but for Steve, he’ll make an exception. For Steve, he thinks he’ll do just about anything.

Pursing his lips, Steve looks at the floor beside Eddie’s feet for a long moment, and Eddie gives him the time to sort his thoughts out.

“I want to say yes. Part of me just wants to accept your apology and pretend that none of this happened. Just keep going the way we were,” he says. “But I can’t keep doing that – ignoring shit. I just… can’t.”

“I’m not asking you to,” Eddie says. “I don’t want things to be like they were before, I want – I want to be better. I want to do better.”

“How?” Steve asks, both challenging and curious.

“I want to do it right. I want to show you how much I appreciate you, and how much you mean to me. I want to treat you like you deserve to be treated,” Eddie insists. “And if that’s just by being the best friend I can be, then that’s what I’ll do, but I would love—love—if you’d let me romance you.”

That briefly breaks through Steve’s stony façade, and he lets out a huff of a laugh. “Romance me?”

“Shit, yeah. Flowers and chocolates and candle-lit dates – the whole nine yards,” Eddie says with a slow grin. “All the things you’ve given other people but that no one has ever given you.”

“I…” Steve starts, his own humor fading quickly. “I don’t know.”

It’s better than an outright ‘no.’

“That’s okay,” Eddie promises. “You don’t have to know right now. I can wait. I’m a patient kinda guy.”

(That’s an absolute lie, and they both know it, but Eddie will find all the patience in the world if Steve needs time to think.)

Slowly, Steve nods. “I think… Just, give it a couple of weeks, okay? Really think about it, and if this – if I’m something you still want by then, come talk to me again,” he says. “Alright?”

“Yeah.” Eddie nods rapidly. “As much time as you want. I’m not going to up and change my mind. Two weeks, I’ll ask again.”

Steve shrugs, taking a step back towards the bedroom.

“I will,” Eddie promises – not defensive, but certain. He can wait two weeks. He can wait as long as Steve needs him to. Maybe he can take the time to get his shit together.

He does care about Steve. He does pay attention – and he’s going to prove it.

But in the meantime, the only thing Steve has asked for is space, so Eddie gives it to him. He retreats to the kitchen to let Steve pack up in peace, trying hard not to feel bereft at the thought of the gaps Steve will be leaving behind.

If he’s lucky—if he’s very, very lucky—it won’t be forever.

Part 5

-

Tag List (drop me a line if you want on or off the ride): @bushbees @y0urnewstepp4r3nt @gleek4twd @hellfireone @westifer-dead @anne-bennett-cosplayer @starman-jpg @mugloversonly @swimmingbirdrunningrock @alycatavatar @y4r3luv @rhapsodyinalto @vinteraltus @lilpomelito @tillystealeaves @noctxrn-e

I did my best to catch everyone, but there were a few people Tumblr wouldn't let me tag. Sorry if I missed you!

[strangersteddierthings]

Beg You to Love Me

"I'm surprised you even remembered, Harrington," Eddie shrugs, hoping he comes off as aloof as he wants to, instead of shaky and unsure like he feels. He was sitting atop the picnic table, arms behind him trying to look as unaffected by Steve's presence as he can, but he's been thrown for a loop ever since Steve emerged from the woods instead of Robin Buckley, like he was expecting.

"Of course, I remember. I- I've never forgotten," Steve whispers, head down and fists clenched at his sides. He looks more like a child being wrongfully scolded than a man defending himself.

The words pull a scoff from Eddie, though. Never forgotten? What the fuck ever. "Right. Something to hold over me, then, if I'd stepped too far out of line? Mutually assured destruction?"

Steve's head snaps up and he looks horrified, which Eddie will admit to almost believing. Steve doesn't seem like the type to join the drama club but his acting's pretty fucking good. "What? No! I would have never- I would never have said anything about us to anyone."

"Right. Sure. Of course. Your own reputation to think about there."

Something like hurt flashes across Steve's face before it frosts over. This is the face he's used to see on Steve. Cold and distant. "I- whatever, man. I don't even know why I thought..." but Steve doesn't finish his sentence. He just shakes his head and turns his back on Eddie, heading back the way he came.

He doesn't know why that sparks a rage from deep within him. "Yeah, that's right. Tuck tail and runaway again!"

"I ran away?" Steve shouts back, turning sharply on his heel to glare at Eddie. "You think that I ran away?"

Eddie just spreads his hands to the empty clearing as if to say 'look at all this room around me you've never occupied'. "You weren't here, were you?"

"Because you told me to not be!" Steve stomps back to Eddie but stops a couple yards away.

"Like fuck I did," Eddie argues back, because he didn't tell Steve to go away. He'd told him-

"'If this isn't good enough for you, there's the fucking door.' That's what you told me," Steve quotes, "I thought it was pretty fucking clear what you wanted."

"Yeah, I fucking thought it was clear what I wanted," Eddie snarls, lunging from the picnic table, closing those last few feet to get into Steve's face. "Yet here we are!"

"Don't act like this is my fucking fault. Like you weren't the one who forced it to be my fault. My decision-"

"Yeah, it had to be your damn decision! You were dragging it out-"

"-because you were too much of a coward to do it your-fucking-self-"

"-acting like you were. Acting too good to actually slum it with the trailer trash-"

"-so of course I made the choice that was best for me. Because I deserved more-"

"-like what I had to offer you would never be good enough for the goddman King-"

"-than just being your hookup when I wanted to be-"

"-like I wasn't good enough to be your friend, much less-"

"-your fucking boyfriend!"

"-your fucking boyfriend!"

The contrast of this sudden silence that falls following their screaming match that ends with identical sentiments is jarring. Eddie feels wrong-footed and lost. Confusion and hurt mixing in him that he can see reflected on Steve's face.

"What?" Steve is the first to break the silence, drawing into himself. Arms crossing to hold himself at the elbows as he takes several steps back, as if to be able to see all of Eddie will clear the confusion he's feeling.

Eddie just stares back, slack jawed for a moment. That's. What. No, wait. Really, what? "What what?"

"You- you said 'if this isn't good enough for you, there's the fucking door'. How was I- I thought you- you were breaking up with me!" Steve cries, "you. You said that to make me pick, because you knew I wanted more and you didn't. That's- you were breaking up with me!"

Eddie's in just as much disbelief. "No, you broke up with me! I said if this isn't good enough but, like, I meant if I wasn't good enough. And you left! You walked out because I wasn't good enough to be with you!"

Steve looks stricken and he claws harder at himself, sort of folds into himself like he's going to be sick. "No. No no no, that's- then that means I- it's all been my fault. No no no no."

Eddie stares wide-eyed and frozen as Steve talks to himself. Eddie kind of feels nauseous. There's no way that this is possible. That these last two and a half years of heartbreak have been because of miscommunication. That they both thought the other was breaking up with them and neither actually wanted to.

"Why didn't you- Why didn't you say something?" Eddie asks.

Steve laughs at that, sounding a bit hysteric. "Me!? Why didn't you! I wasn't- I wasn't going to beg you to love me like I had with my parents. You were the one who told me I shouldn't have to do that!"

Yeah. He had. When Steve had broken down and cried on his bed, in his arms, wondering what it was he had done to lose his parents' love. Eddie told him it wasn't his fault, never would be, and that he would never need to beg for love from someone who does love him. It was the same advice Wayne had given him when he'd taken Eddie in.

"I already thought you were wanting to break up. You were being so distant, I thought..."

Steve sucks in a deep breath and nods, "Yeah. Yeah I was. I was scared of scaring you away. Of being too much. Because I- what I felt for you was a lot. I was afraid I'd chase you away if I continued to be so clingy. I pulled back, to reign it in but. Fuck. Fuck!"

Eddie drops to a squat. His legs feel like jelly and he can't keep standing. He squats and looks down so his hair becomes a curtain separating him from the reality of the situation, if only for a moment. Fuck is right.

He's spent his junior and first senior year being pissed at Steve. Hurt by him and what he thought happened. And it's- if Steve's being honest, it's all been for nothing. If they both wanted a deeper relationship, they could have had it. They might still be boyfriends if Eddie hadn't been so wrapped up in his Munson Doctrine. He'd been convincing himself Steve was embarrassed of him, and was working on breaking off their- whatever they were. But he hadn't been.

He's thought such terrible things about Steve over the years. God, what has Steve thought of him over the years? No. He doesn't want to know, actually. That's not what he cares about right now.

He lifts his head to see that Steve's plopped himself onto the ground, sitting cross legged, elbows on his knees and head in his hands.

"Steve. Steve!" He calls Steve's name out until he looks up, looks at him, "why'd you come out here?"

He laughs again, slightly less hysterically, and he's shaking his head like he can't believe what he's about to say. "I. Fuck, I was coming out here to beg you to love me."

"No you fucking weren't!" his tone is filled with disbelief.

"I was," Steve repeats, sounding amused and heartbroken at the same time. "I really, really was. Graduation's coming and I know you want to get out of Hawkins the second that happens and I'm. I was running out of time trying to get you to notice me again, so I was going to beg."

Notice him again? As if Steve doesn't haunt his every waking thought. As if he doesn't dream of Steve every night while his eyes seek him across the halls and in their few shared classes like he's the goddamn night sky and Eddie is a sailor lost at sea needing the north star to guide him home. Eddie's never not noticed him, and he thinks he has to come out here and beg? "When someone loves you, you don't have to beg."

"Yeah, I know," Steve sighs, defeated, which lets Eddie know that Steve does not, in fact, know. He looks away from Eddie, down to his lap.

Fuck, it's like every fantasy Eddie's had of them making up and then making out has been handed to him on a silver platter and he's blowing it. His words are too vague, too easily misinterpreted. Again. He falls forward on to his knees, hands catching him so he's on all fours like an animal. "Steve. I mean it. You don't have to beg."

"I get it, Eddie," Steve huffs, not looking at him. Not actually understanding.

Eddie starts to crawl the distance between them. Steve looks up then, probably to see what the fuck Eddie was doing with the shuffling sounds and the chain on his belt clacking. Eddie watches Steve's eyes go wide, mouth dropping open to a small 'o'. "See, the thing is, Steve," Eddie says, pulling himself up to be just on his knees to shuffle the last few inches closer. Steve leans back to keep his eyes on Eddie's face, which opens his lap up. "You said you know, but I don't think you do." Eddie brings his hands to rest on Steve's shoulders and Steve lets him. "You don't have to beg." He uses his hold on Steve's shoulders to balance himself as he swings a leg wide, to straddle Steve, then shifts his weight to repeat the process with his other leg before settling himself into Steve's lap. Steve's hands land on his hips and Eddie isn't sure if it's intentional or a reaction to Eddie plopping himself in his laps but he's going to believe it's the first one. "You've never had to beg with me."

Steve sucks in a sharp breath and then he collapses into Eddie. Steve's hands on his hips slide up and pull him into a hug, as close to Steve's body as he can get, while Steve shoves his head under Eddie's chin, into the junction of his neck and shoulder and breaths him in like it's the last breath Steve will ever take. "We're so stupid."

"Yeah," Eddie agrees, as he lifts one hand to hold the back of Steve's head while the other drops to rub soothingly at his back. "Yeah, we are."

They sit in the dirt, the closest they've been since that summer between '81 and '82. They should probably talk about. They're going to have to, if they want this to work. Full sentences with no hidden meanings, even though the thought of that kind of vulnerability makes Eddie skittish. It's going to be difficult, but it'll be worth it. Steve has always been worth it.

Eddie wants to say 'I love you', just to get it out, in the open, and not just implied, but there's a different first step to take. One that's actually a little easier. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"Me too," Steve whispers, "I'm sorry. I should have-"

"Shut up," Eddie cuts him off, voice quiet and soft as he can be. "This is, and I cannot stress it enough, a we situation."

The huff of laughter on his skin from Steve feels like the start of something. A new beginning, a start over. A re-do.

A goddamn miracle.

Later, they'll drag themselves apart and up. Make it to the back of Eddie's van in the school parking lot to talk. Going to either's house feel too much, too soon. Their big fight happened at Eddie's home, and Steve's house isn't warm enough for the kind of comfort they want to share.

They'll have a talk. Filled with long pauses, stumbling over words and fears and insecurities because this is the hard part of a relationship. Getting it all out in the open so they can learn if they'll even work. The fear that they aren't going to be compatible anymore looms but doesn't deter. They both want a second chance, to give it a real shot, by the end of that first talk. But taking it slow.

They'll discuss what went wrong the first time (diving in without talking about anything certainly played a big part) and how to avoid that.

But that's later. Right now, Eddie just holds Steve, and Steve holds him back, and it certainly feels like the beginning of something good.

-

@i-less-than-three-you @nburkhardt @afewproblems

[torakowalski]

Apols for the delay but Swimmer Steve is back and pretty much exactly where we last left him.

(part one | part six)

"Fuck," says Steve. "Fuck." He hasn't said much of anything else since he came out of the changing rooms, still damp and kind of stunned-looking.

"Fuck," Eddie agrees.

Steve looks at him, a smile starting to spread across his face, going on and on like it might be endless.

God, he's handsome.

God, Eddie is stupid in love with him.

"Olympics, baby!" Eddie crows. They've already hugged; Steve got a hug from everyone, as soon as he emerged. Eddie wants to hug him again, but that would probably be too much.

"Fuck," says Steve and sits down on the floor between their two beds.

Eddie shrugs to himself and sits down with him.

They've only come back to the hotel so Steve can get showered and changed before the celebration dinner that the kids have planned. Or, actually, Steve has come back to the hotel for that; thinking about it, Eddie's not sure why he came with, except that it just felt natural.

Either way, looks like they're going to take longer than expected.

"All good?" Eddie asks, just in case.

"Jesus Christ," says Steve, which is a change from fuck and laughs. He lifts his hands up to cover his face and when he lowers them again, his eyes are wet. "The Olympics, Eddie."

Eddie nods, can't do anything but smile stupidly back at him. He doesn't think he's ever seen Steve this open and relaxed and delighted. "The Olympics, Steve."

Steve rubs at his eyes with his fingertips, mostly just making his eyelashes damper and darker from his happy tears. "You know when you've wanted something your whole damn life, but you never really thought you'd get it? It feels fucking wild to get it."

Eddie thinks about his guitar, his band, how badly he wants to stand on a stage looking out at thousands of people who all want to hear what he has to sing. Then he reminds himself that this is Steve's moment.

"I bet," he says. "Congrats. You've worked damn hard and you absolutely deserve it."

Steve leans over and bumps their shoulders together. "You're coming with me, right?"

Eddie blinks. "Where?"

"... the Olympics," says Steve, like it should be obvious.

Eddie blinks some more. "Steve. Sweetheart. Steve. The Olympics are in Korea."

"Mm," Steve agrees, "but the war's over, it's totally safe there now."

Eddie loves and hates that Steve thinks that might be the only thing putting Eddie off.

Eddie stretches his legs out so they disappear under Steve's bed and hopes there's nothing really gross under there that'll stick to his jeans. "Look, the literal only reason I've been able to afford rocking up and down the country with you is government hush money and the fact you keep buying all my meals. There's no way I can stretch to plane tickets, and I'd need my own hotel room, right? 'cause you'll be living in the athletes village?"

He could have kept going, obviously he could have kept going, but he stops there because Steve is waving a hand at him.

"What? Don't say you'll pay. There's no way you have that much extra cash, either."

"Nah," Steve says, "but my dad does. And I will be fully, fully back on the credit card, after he finds out about this."

Eddie makes a face. "But we hate your dad?"

"We really do," Steve agrees, smile not even dimming. "But we love spending his money on shit he'll hate." He drops a hand to Eddie's knee, giving it a squeeze and a shake. "You'll come, right?"

"... You should take Robin," Eddie tries, one last attempt to be a good person. "Or the kids. God, the kids would shit."

Steve leaves his hand on Eddie's knee, like that's just a place where it goes now. "I'd take them all, if I could... Plus like, all their parents to keep an eye on them, but they'll all be back in school by the time the Olympics start. None of them can take like, three weeks out."

"I bet Erica could wrangle it," Eddie points out.

Steve makes a guilty face. "Love Erica, but I don't think we have the kind of relationship where we hop over to Asia, just the two of us. You know?"

Eddie wants to ask, And we do? But they do. He knows they do.

"I don't know," he says. It's a big fucking deal. He's never left the country before and he'd love to, but he really does hate Steve's dad and all he chooses to be. The idea of being beholden to him for that big a favour sits wrong in his gut, even if Mr Harrington never actually knows about it.

"Eddie," Steve says, like he's prepared to wheedle for what he wants. Then he stops, takes a breath, shakes his head. "I know it's a big ask and obviously you don't have to, if you really don't want to. I kind of just, I can't, I can't imagine doing this without you."

Eddie claps a hand to his chest. "Right in the flattery gland, Harrington."

Steve slides his hand up Eddie's leg and squeezes his thigh. Is this going to be a thing? Is Eddie going to have to get Robin to have a word with him about this soon?

"You're the whole reason I've got this far," Steve tells him, all close and sincere. "If you don't want to come, that'll suck, but it's okay. I just wanna make sure that you know I appreciate everything you've done."

Eddie knows every mole on Steve's face, but Steve's close enough now to reveal a few previously unknown freckles.

Eddie chuckles weakly. "Personal space?" he suggests.

"Overrated," Steve says and then.

And then.

And then he presses his lips carefully against Eddie's.

"What?" Eddie croaks. He can feel his breath dance off Steve's mouth.

"Thank you," Steve says and kisses him again, a little firmer, a little damper this time.

"I..." Eddie is a goddamn fucking hero because he makes himself lean back. "Don't. You can't. Don't kiss me to say thank you. That's not... Don't. Please."

He's expecting Steve to sit back, blush and apologise and explain he had to best of intentions. Instead, Steve lifts the hand not on Eddie's thigh and touches his cheek. "Can I kiss you 'cause I can't imagine not kissing you?"

The centre of Eddie's chest throbs. Even he doesn't know what that means. "You don't want to kiss me," he manages.

"Kinda really do," Steve says. "So? Can I?"

(continued here)

[blushweddinggowns]

Jonathan didn’t know how else to say it but…Steve Harrington was weird. Like really, really weird. And he wasn’t even talking about Steve and Eddie. He thought Harrington was plenty weird all on his own. 

Jonathan really didn’t understand why Eddie was always marked as the strange one in the duo. To him, Eddie made perfect sense. Poor background, unique interests, drug dealer, loud and obnoxious as a coping mechanism, but still managing to be a pretty good guy all around. It was normal for a guy like that to be a little out there. 

But Steve didn’t make any sense to him. Zero. Zilch. 

Because he was rich, handsome, athletic, a total jock in every sense of the word. Half the school wanted to get in his pants, while the other half desperately tried to figure out how he got so many girls. By all accounts, he should be an asshole. Someone who basked in his own popularity, not someone who literally shunned it. Steve was the only person he’d ever met who had it all, and didn’t care. 

All he seemed to care about was freaking Eddie Munson of all people. They had been attached at the hip since grade school and even with Eddie disappearing for two years, Steve was right back at his side nearly the moment he got back. 

He didn’t go to parties, never bragged about his conquests unless someone asked, and even then he was always incredibly vague, and from what he’d heard from Nancy, he didn’t even sleep at his own house 90 percent of the time. If you were looking for Steve Harrington, all you really had to do was track down Eddie Munson.

Jonathan had only purchased weed a handful of times in his young life, but every single time Steve had been there. Either in the van waiting when Eddie dropped something off, or sitting right next to him on the park bench, popping gum and reading a comic book while Eddie did his business. 

And he was…intensely protective over him. Which was weird considering how Munson was scary enough in his own right, at least on the outside. Like getting into multiple fights, protective. Making girls cry who had the audacity to say anything about Eddie’s antics, protective. Like cursing out an actual teacher, protective. 

Like comforting your best friend after a near death experience instead of your literal girlfriend protective. Who did that? And maybe it hadn’t been official back then, but still. You’d think you’d spend time cuddling your crush in your lap instead of your childhood buddy. And there was also the weird hair smelling thing they kept doing. He hadn’t looked too closely at the time, but Steve had turned to bury his face in Eddie’s hair every few minutes after the 83 showdown. He hadn’t seen a repeat of that since, though. Maybe…maybe Eddie had gotten demon guts in his hair? And Steve had been trying to find the source?

He didn’t fucking know. He just…didn’t get him. And now he got him even less. The guy pulled freaking Nancy Wheeler as his girlfriend, and he didn't spend every possible waking moment with her? 

But it wasn’t just him prioritizing Eddie over Nancy. It was the fact that he didn’t care that Nancy was with him more often than her actual boyfriend. Which was fantastic for Jonathan, even if it was a bit of a double edged sword. Because Nancy was gorgeous and so fucking smart and cool and…and Jonathan liked her so much he kind of wanted to die.

And he couldn’t do a damn thing about it. Even if he’d come close, way more than once. There were probably a dozen times where he’d almost kissed her. And the last one would have happened if they hadn’t been interrupted. They had been talking next to his car during lunch, Jonathan couldn’t even remember what it had been about. He just remembered that he had said something to make her laugh. And she looked so freaking beautiful when she laughed. She looked pretty all the time, but something about seeing her happy made her jump from a 10/10 to a 15. 

The sun was in her hair, and her eyes crinkled in that cute way that he loved, and Jonathan had been leaning in before he knew it was happening. And if Steve and Eddie hadn’t walked by right in that moment, it would have happened. He had jumped nearly ten feet in the air when he spotted him out of the corner of his eye, fully expecting Steve to start tearing into him for being so close to his girlfriend. 

But he just smiled and waved when he saw them, and went right back to their conversation before walking off. 

See? Weird.

He didn’t know why it didn’t bother Nancy more, how little he cared about what the two of them were up to. Part of him was praying it was because she was falling out of love with him, and all of the romantic tension they had together wasn’t in his head. 

But he just couldn’t bring himself to make that final step. Mostly because he was busy trying to take care of Will most of the time. Even if he got his way he wasn’t exactly in a position to be a good boyfriend. His little brother came first, especially after everything he had been through. And he was struggling, Jonathan could see it. And he spent most of his spare moments trying his damndest to get Will to open up. It hadn’t worked. But he kept trying.

But there was another part to it too. He…he didn’t want to be that guy. The kind of guy to make moves on a taken girl. Especially Steve’s girl. Both him and Eddie had risked their lives last year helping them out, and what? He was going to thank them by breaking Steve’s heart? He couldn’t bring himself to do it. 

Even if Eddie wanted him to. Which was just one more thing he didn’t get, the weird encouragement Eddie would give him when it came to his best friend’s girlfriend. If Jonathan mentioned a movie he wanted to see, preferably with her, Eddie would always be sure to keep Steve busy on friday nights for her to be free. If Jonathan had his mom’s car for a week and really wanted to be the one to pick her up in the morning, Eddie would conveniently find a reason that Steve couldn’t. 

It was weird, and kind of fucked up, but Jonathan had at least a small idea on why he was doing it. It was pretty obvious, after you got a little closer to the two of them. Eddie was in love with Steve. But Steve wasn’t in love with Eddie, not when he had Nancy on his arm. It explained why he monopolized all of his time, why he hung around them on their dates, why he was so open to letting another guy swoop in on her. 

He never actually asked him about it. It felt like a fucked up thing to say, especially if he was wrong. But Jonathan couldn’t think of any other explanation. So he kind of just…went with it. At this point it felt like he was Eddie’s co-conspirator to break them up, even if it was never explicitly said.

Which was fucked up, on both their ends. Yeah Steve was weird, and kind of a bitch, but he was a good guy all in all. He was Eddie’s best friend for a reason. 

So Jonathan held back his feelings. Or at least he did for as long as he could. But then Nancy came to him for help to expose the Hawkins lab. And they ended up on this crazy fucking adventure together. And he just fell more and more in love with every wild stunt she did. 

And then they kissed at Murray’s and Jonathan didn’t have the strength to say no. How could he? It just…happened. And okay yes. He feels bad for Steve. But he doesn’t regret it. Not even slightly. And maybe that made him the biggest asshole in the world, but it was hard to care when Nancy freaking Wheeler wanted him of all people. 

It was pretty easy to shove the guilt right out of his mind. That was until they saw Steve and Eddie next, right in front of the Hawkins lab. Steve had instantly brightened at the sight of her, immediately sweeping her up into a big hug. 

And Jonathan couldn’t bring himself to watch it. He just couldn’t. Because that was probably going to be the last time they hugged like that. He was already in too deep and there was no way in hell that he was going to let last night be a one night stand. He hadn’t exactly asked Nancy to break up with him yet, but he was going to. 

Because he was a dick like that, apparently. But maybe they could find a way to do it…kindly? If that was even possible. And if there was anyone who would be able to help soften the blow for Steve, it would be Eddie Munson. 

Jonathan walked up to him as the other two started talking. He jerked his head to the side, “Hey can I talk to you for a second?”

Eddie nodded, following him over to a safe distance from the car. He didn’t really think Eddie would be mad at him for what he did. But he was still a little nervous to say it out loud. 

He avoided saying what he truly wanted, deflecting with a question, “So um, Steve and Nancy, how uh, serious are they?”

Eddie stared at him like he’d magically grown a second head, “Huh?”

“They’ve almost been together for like a year now right?” Jonathan pressed, “Is he…y’know. In love with her?”

But Eddie was still looking at him like he’d asked something insane. He narrowed his eyes at him, “Are…are you kidding me right now?”

“What?” Jonathan asked, almost as equally confused as Eddie, “Why would I be kidding?”

Eddie raised a brow at him, “You think Steve and Nancy are dating? For like, real? After all this time? After last year. That’s what you think?”

Jonathan really wished Eddie would just tell him what the hell he was talking about instead of emphasizing every other word. He crossed his arms over his chest, feeling oddly defensive when he asked, “What else am I supposed to think?”

He hadn’t expected Eddie to bark out a laugh at the question. It took a second for him to compose himself to talk again while Jonathan looked on, more confused than ever. 

Eddie eventually straightened, holding a fist in front of his mouth while he struggled for the words, “Jonathan, dude, last year you saw me in his lap. With my arms around his neck. While he kissed me to make me feel better.”

Jonathan blinked at him, “Huh?”

He hadn’t remembered the kissing part. And in his defense he had been a bit distracted with the news that his brother was alive. But the hair smelling thing…had…had Steve been kissing the top of his head that whole time? Right in front of him? 

Eddie looked way too amused at Jonathan’s shock, “So what do you think that means bud? Is that something you do with your friends?”

“But Nancy! And all the other girls-”

“Fake, fake, fake and fake,” Eddie said with a grin, “That boy’s all mine. And has been for years. Him and Nance are just friends. Really good friends but that’s it.”

Eddie put a hand on his shoulder, voice softening a little but still a little too tickled for Jonathan’s liking, “We all kind of thought you knew man. I guess I underestimated our own acting skills there.”

Jonathan slowly nodded, even though his brain was still struggling to catch up with everything he’d said. But it made sense. It actually made perfect sense. That’s why Steve didn’t care that he was all over her, that’s why Eddie had been so encouraging, that’s why Steve was so fucking weird. The guy had been basically married since he was in third grade. 

“Holy shit,” Jonathan finally breathed out, “That makes so much sense.”

But then a realization hit him, “Wait, so all of this time Nancy has been single?”

“And ready to mingle,” Eddie added with a wink, “Though if it helps, you’re the only one she’s set her sights on. That and Tom Cruise but I think you still have good odds.”

As wonderful as that revelation was, it kind of also made him want to smash his head into a wall. How could he have been so blind? 

“Don’t worry about it,” Eddie said, like he could read his mind, “We do actually try to hide it most of the time. It’s not completely your fault for not seeing the hints.”

He only had one more question, a stupid one but he still wanted to be sure, “So um, hypothetically. If I, uh, slept with his fake girlfriend, he wouldn’t be mad about it?”

Eddie laughed, “He’d be ecstatic. Half the time those two talk is about you. He’s been waiting for you to make a move as long as Nancy has. And he will definitely get a kick out of this conversation when I tell him, that’s for damn sure.”

Jonathan nodded. That was…some pretty fantastic news. Besides the sting that he could have had her weeks or even months ago, it was a good fucking feeling to know that they hadn’t done anything wrong. It was kind of weird, knowing that Steve Harrington of all people was gay. But he didn’t care. That might have been how his dad tried to raise him, but his mom had stopped all the homophobic shit the second he ditched.

He was raised better than to judge two people for being happy together. And the fact that they trusted him with something so big made him feel…kind of special. Definitely not like an asshole. The two of them wandered back to Steve and Nancy and Eddie didn’t hesitate to pull him into his arms. 

Jonathan watched as he whispered something to him before kissing his cheek, like it was the most natural thing in the world. And for them it probably was. He saddled next to Nancy. He didn’t exactly have the confidence to be that affectionate in public like those two did, but he’d like to work his way up to it. He gently took her hand in his, blushing at the way it made her smile. 

She squeezed his hand back before shuffling a little closer to lean into him. He didn’t have much time to indulge in it, not when the lights all suddenly came back on. But as they all hurried inside, he couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, everything would be okay.

From the latest chapter of this fic

[steddieas-shegoes]

homework

for @corrodedcoffinfest prompt 'let's talk about that'

rated t | 990 words | no cw | tags: therapy, gareth pov, personal growth, self-discovery

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

Gareth hates therapy.

Okay, hate might be a strong word.

He dislikes it strongly and wishes he could just write in a journal or something.

“Let’s talk about that some more,” the therapist, Jessica, smiled encouragingly.

“Talk about what?” He genuinely has no clue what she wants to hear more about.

“Your need for validation from your bandmates.”

Oh. That.

He wouldn’t really call it a need. He just doesn’t ever do anything that they’d dislike him doing. Even if it would make him happy.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“You mentioned that sometimes you have ideas for songs, but you know one of them won’t like it, so you don’t suggest it. Why don’t you give it a try even if they don’t like it?” She clarified.

“It’s not that easy.”

“Why not?”

“Because Jeff and Eddie basically run the band. They come up with most of the shit we do, I just add the drums,” he explained. “It’s worked that way this long, why disrupt the flow?”

“Do they tell you not to give your opinion?”

“Of course not. They always ask what I think.”

“And you choose to not give them honesty.”

“I…”

He didn’t realize that’s what was happening. And he hates that it took a therapist to figure it out.

“I’m not lying to them!” He rushed to say.

“Maybe not. But you’re not being completely truthful, either. Do you think they’d be upset if they knew that you were holding back to maintain the peace?”

Gareth hates therapy.

If Steve hadn’t insisted they all go twice a month, he wouldn’t even be here. If Sam hadn’t backed Steve up, a knowing smirk on his face when Gareth and Frankie argued they didn’t need therapy, he would be sitting on his couch or behind his drums.

“I guess there’s a chance they would be a little upset,” he finally admitted. “But not nearly as upset as if I disagreed with them and we argued.”

“How do you know a disagreement would lead to an argument?”

“Because all disagreements lead to arguments. Arguments lead to fights and silence and cold shoulders. Cold shoulders lead to people not wanting to be around each other anymore.”

Damn, Jessica was fucking good at her job. He didn’t even mean to say all that.

He didn’t even know he felt all that.

“Is this a pattern you’ve experienced before?” She set her notepad aside, all attention on him.

“I guess, yeah. My parents. My older brother and my dad. My grandparents and my mom. My first best friend.” He shrugged. “Just easier to go along with things. It’s not like I’m not happy.”

“Settling and being happy are two different things.”

“I am happy. Really.”

He is. He’s never been happier, actually. He gets to do the coolest job in the world with his best friends, he has a boyfriend he loves more than anything, and he gets to drink his favorite coffee every morning. Life is great.

“Do you think that happiness stems from the peace you’ve forced yourself to accept or from being content in your life?” Jessica leaned forward.

“Do you do this with everyone? Is this magic?” He asked, suddenly having the overwhelming urge to cry or run or both.

She laughed. “No, it’s not magic. It’s just understanding my people. You don’t give me much to work with, but sometimes something sticks out and I can run with it.”

“Seems like magic.” He sighs. There’s no way out of this conversation. “What am I supposed to do? Cause problems until no one wants me in the band anymore?”

“No. Do you want actual advice or do you wanna try to figure it out yourself?” She leaned back in her chair. “I’m pretty sure you won’t like my advice.”

“I don’t like most of what you say.”

“Fair enough.” She smiles. “I think you should try being honest next time there’s something you have a different opinion on. No one is going to hate you or want you out of the band. They value your opinion or they wouldn’t have you there to begin with.”

“Easier said than done.”

“Not necessarily. It’s only as hard as you make it.” She makes a note in the planner next to her. “I’m expecting you to give me at least one example of doing this by our next session.”

“Homework? I’m busy enough!” Gareth didn’t want this to get in the way of tour prep. They were starting rehearsals next week and had a few last minute adjustments to make on their album before the tour started.

“And it’s the perfect time to speak up,” she raised a brow, daring him to continue arguing. When he didn’t, she spoke again. “I’m not expecting you to do it all overnight. Just once.”

“Fine.”

****

The first rehearsal was a shit show. It always is, but everyone’s nerves were shot today after barely sleeping and a flight delay keeping two of the tech managers unavailable for an extra few hours.

Frankie snapped on him earlier, but he walked away. That wasn’t the time to follow Jessica’s advice.

Eddie stormed from the room a few minutes ago, said he needed a break to call Steve. He’d been arguing with his guitar tech over which of his five guitars to use for a song.

Gareth started to speak up to give his opinion, but Eddie was already too frustrated.

See, Jessica? This is why you should stay quiet.

But Eddie came back a few minutes later and asked Gareth what he thought.

“The one you use for Blue Night is probably what you should use for Invade. Sounds are similar enough for those songs,” he said without thinking.

“Yeah, you’re right,” Eddie agreed, knocking his shoulder against Gareth’s. “Thanks, man.”

“Dunno why he listens to you and not me,” the guitar tech grumbled.

Gareth smiled.

Okay, Jessica. Maybe you were right this time.

[stevebabey]

Eddie loves to complain.

It’s a known fact to Eddie, to Wayne, to every single sorry son-of-a-bitch who winds up being friends with him, that Eddie loves to complain. Half the time he opens his mouth, it’s to let an absurd about of bitching fall out of it. Trailer trash with a trash mouth, is what he calls himself sometimes, always with a wry grin.

Even more so, Eddie loves to complain about how Steve Harrington seems to get everything he wants in life.

He gets the big house at the end of the block, the spot of captain of the basketball team (not that that’s a position Eddie would ever gun for), the stupid title of ‘King Steve’ that let him soar through high school, untouched.

Missing homework? Well, King Steve Harrington just gets a gentle reprimand, a reminder to make homework a priority next time. Whereas, Mr. McKay had nearly popped his eyeball out in stress when chewing Eddie out for his missing homework in the very same week.

Double fucking standards. He’s pretty sure he’s seen Steve get free shakes down at Harper’s Diner which made Eddie scoff— as if the likes of Steve Harrington can’t pay for his own shakes.

So, yeah, to Eddie? Steve Harrington gets everything he wants.

It becomes so much of a habit — bitching and blaming King Steve for every other minuscule inconvenience as well — that even when Eddie has the week from hell and his entire worldview is shifted, quite literally, upside down, he still complains about Steve.

Because, damn it, even at all this, Steve is better than Eddie is.

Ignoring the fact it’s definitely not Steve’s first rodeo, Eddie can’t help but keep the bite in his tone. It feels a bit too humiliating, being kept bed-ridden in Steve’s empty mansion due to wounds that need tending to every day. Hidden from angry mobs because he’s that unlikable in this town.

Worse, is that even though Steve got a bite taken out of him too, he seems just fucking peachy compared to Eddie.

Pathetic Eddie who can’t even change his own bandages yet. Steve’s more gentle than Eddie probably deserves for all his bitching at him.

Because, of course he bitches. Eddie can’t help it; some defence mechanism from within that isn’t sure how to handle the fact Steve is, like actually genuinely, a decent person. It’s worse when Steve waves it off. Shrugs off his pointy comments, might make a comment about being ‘someone’s grouchy and tired’ but is still so fucking nice.

Until the one day he doesn’t shrug off the comment— this time when Eddie makes a complaint, whinging and grumbling about can’t believe I’m stuck with Steve Harrington playing nurse, Steve narrows his eyes. Then he sighs.

“What’s your problem with me, man?” Steve asks, not unkind, just probing. He’s still winding one of the bandages around Eddie’s torso, the latter propped against the bathroom sink.

Fuck, this bathrooms massive. It’s bigger than Eddie’s entire room at the trailer. He hates it for that. He hates that he’s had more gentle touches in this bathroom in the weeks living here, with Steve, than he had in his whole 20 years since— well, since his mama died really. He tries not to think about that much.

Eddie really glad he asked; he thinks he’s had this whole speech prepped since sophomore year and Steve’s stupidly fluffy hair and smarmy grin walked through Hawkins High’s front doors. Charmed his way to top of the school with his stupid perfect life.

But, well, not all of that is true anymore. Eddie knows there’s quite a few holes in his original fantasised idea of what the perfect life of Steve Harrington looks like. Doesn’t matter, Eddie’s still got a bone to pick. He’s stubborn that way.

“What’s my problem? Did you meet yourself in high school?”

Steve winces a bit at that, his eyes ducking away but his hands keep moving, winding the gauze slowly and carefully. He doesn’t say anything, thinking, but Eddie rolls on regardless.

“Dude, you get— you have everything. You have the house, the popularity- shit, half the population of the school had the hots for you.” He doesn’t mention that he was at one point part of that population. Might still be if Steve keeps being so nice to him. Damn, he’s easy.

His tone as he talks tells a completely different story though, all annoyed and dramatic. “I once saw Miss O’Donnell wave off a failed test just cos. Just cos you were you! That’s the same fucking test that failed me the first time round.”

Eddie waves his hand around, on a roll now; he’s had plenty of practice with bitching about the likes of how Steve Harrington has it all.

“I know all this shit is, well, not fuckin’ ideal but even then! It’s like, of course, you’ll roll out of this with some badass scars that the chicks will dig.”

Steve is still listening intently, Eddie can tell because his eyes flick up to meet his every couple of seconds. His hands keep working.

Eddie huffs and winces at the pain that radiates up and down his side. “If you had these scars,” he gestures up and down. His side is undeniably worse than Steve’s own, they both know. “It would just be badass. Survivor shit, yanno? On me, it’s just, like, shitty mutilation.”

The sentence hangs in the air and Eddie feels his embarrassment creep up by how quickly that turned into a pity-fest, which absolutely not the point. The point is that Steve gets it all and Eddie gets nothing — and that’s how it’s always been.

Steve says quiet for a bit thinking as he ties off the end of Eddie’s bandage. He has to pull it tight and Eddie winces again, another flush on pain. Even if it’s not as embarrassing as it had been in the beginning, Steve taking care of these wounds for him, Eddie still hates it.

“So, that’s your problem with me? You think I get everything I want?” Steve asks plainly, pulling his hands back and folding them across his chest. Eddie hates how handsome he looks doing it. Then hates himself for noticing it.

“In a manner of words, yes.”

Steve uncrosses his arms and suddenly leans forward, planting his hands on either side of Eddie’s hips on the bathroom counter. He leans into his space and Eddie has to force himself not to pull back instinctively. Steve’s face is very close to his.

“And... if I want you?” Steve asks, voice dipping quieter in a way that makes Eddie’s stomach tighten. He represses a shudder and only after, do the words dawn on him; there’s no hiding the way he gets a little wide-eyed and fuck, he just looked at Steve’s lips. Wait, what? Eddie’s heart is thudding like a trapped rabbit’s, wild and quick.

Steve’s stare is intense, eyes a little darker than usual. He looks at Eddie and just for a moment, his gaze drops to his lips. Steve licks his own, his knuckles on the counter growing whiter as he grips it tighter and steels his nerve.

“Do I still get everything I want?”

[munsonsmixtapes]

Heyyy first time requesting was wondering if you could do smth where reader accidentally gives Eddie a black eye by making her jump. She's obviously sorry. But him, the boys and Wayne find it funny. Don't know if you don't wanna, obviously <3

This is actually so funny to think about lmao

Eddie x fem!reader

Spending late nights at your apartment always scared you. Every time that Eddie wasn’t able to sleep over, you could barely sleep. You couldn’t because all you could think about was someone breaking in and causing you harm.

Tonight was no different. You stared at your bedroom door, terrified once you had heard a noise that had stirred you. You were afraid to get out of bed and come face to face with whoever had broken in.

You eyed the baseball bat that Steve had gifted you as a housewarming gift, the thing looking tempting to finally use. You had never had an intruder until just then and you wanted them to know that they wouldn’t get away with it.

The knob of the door jingled and you stood from your bed, putting your fists up, getting ready to punch whoever was on the other side. You had never thrown a punch before, but there was a first time for everything.

You were sure that Eddie would have been proud of you if he had been there. He was a big baby most of the time, but when it came to protecting you, he’d step up, no matter how afraid he was. He would do anything to keep his girl safe.

The door slowly opened and before you could register what was happening, you punched the intruder in the face, causing them to stumble backwards. They let out a groan and you turned on the overhead light, letting out a gasp as you realized that it was your boyfriend.

“Eddie, what the fuck?” You stepped over to him, grabbing onto his arms to get a look at his eye where you had punched. You pulled him into your room to get a good look at it even though you knew that it was going to bruise pretty badly.

“I’m sorry. I texted you that I was coming over and you sent me the thumbs up emoji. I used my key since I figured you were asleep.” Now you remembered. You were usually prone to wake up from your phone buzzing and text him back half asleep, having no recollection afterwards. “Didn’t know I was going to get a shiner,” he grumbled.

“I’ll make it up to you.” You pulled him into your arms, stroking his hair, knowing that he loved to be babied.

“I think I’m gonna need some kisses in return.”

“I am more than happy to make that happen.” You pressed your lips to his, deepening it by swiping your tongue along his bottom lip and he opened up, letting you inside. You then pushed him back onto you bed, ready to repay him for the pain you caused.

-

The two of you joined Wayne and the boys for breakfast the next morning like you did every Saturday and they all gasped once they caught sight of Eddie’s eye. You had suggested that he wear sunglasses to cover it up, but he insisted that he was okay without them. He told you that he thought it made him feel cool.

“What happened now, boy. Was it one of those kids who keeps pestering you?” Wayne asked as he stood up from the table, taking Eddie’s face gently in his hands, wanting to get a better look at the injury.

“No,” Eddie shook his head. “It’s nothing.”

“Did y/n finally get sick of your shit and pop you one?” Gareth joked and Eddie just glared. They both knew that you’d never hurt him on purpose.

“No,” Eddie sat down at the table and you took the chair next to him. “She punched me because she thought I was an intruder.” At that, the whole table erupted in laughter, the two of you sharing looks, wondering what was so damn funny.

“That’s good,” Jeff cackled, grabbing hold of his stomach.

The rest of breakfast was spent making jokes about Eddie’s black eye and how you had been the ones to cause it. Everyone had especially thought it was hilarious because it was an accident, knowing that you would have never been able to do it on purpose. You wouldn’t have hurt a fly.

Just from the conversation, you and Eddie both knew that neither of you would have been able to live it down. You knew that the four of them would still bring up the incident for years to come, making jabs here and there, thinking that it was the funniest thing while you and Eddie just rolled your eyes. Maybe next time he’s think twice before using the key you gave him.

[harrywavycurly]

At First Sight Part 3: He’s What?

Masterlist: Here

CW: Language

Tag List: @ali-r3n @blckburd @comeonatmebruh @sweetmoonlove0214 @heydreamchild @mrsjellymunson @marshmallowgem @sofaritsalrightt @josephquinnsfreckles

A/N: Poor Robin being brought into all this and poor Eddie for not knowing what to do with himself, enjoy the madness and don’t worry you’ll ACTUALLY be in the next part😂💖

“He’s what?” “In love with her.” “I’m not just in love with her Harrington…it’s…way fucking more than that man…it’s like she’s all I can think about until I get to see her again and…and the idea of her being alone right now instead of being safe with me just kills me I need-” “you need to take a few deep breaths and just relax for a moment Munson.” “So…he’s…in love with her? And you wanna know if I know her? Why didn’t you just ask Dustin to talk to her?” “Because he has a big fucking mouth and will just blab that Eddie’s in love and that’ll freak her out.” “Right Steve because her seeing him all heart eyes and mouth open literally drooling at the idea of her won’t freak her out?…you’ve lost your damn mind.” “Do you know her or not Buckley? I don’t have time for this…it’s already been two days since I saw her and that’s about all I can do before I take things into my own hands and go knock-” “you’re not knocking on anyone’s door! We’ve been over this a hundred times!” “Yes…I know her and…yeah I can reach out and see if she has any idea who the hell you are and if…she’d be interested in you having her phone number.” “You know her? Like you’re friends with her?” “Yes Eddie I’m friends with-” “what’s she like? Does she like flowers? Is she allergic to anything? You think she’ll like my hair? I can cut it if she wants I don’t care oh oh do you think-” “you have got to get him away from me Steve or I’m going to gag him with a bag of Swedish fish.” “Now you see what I’ve been dealing with…I made him stay with me because I didn’t trust that he wouldn’t go over to her house and embarrass himself.” “Nothing to do with telling the love of my life how I feel is embarrassing…grow up.” “What did Dustin say? Did he mention if seeing her will make him…not so…crazy?” “He said if she feels the same they’ll both have like a moment and then their personalities should go back to normal but they’ll just be….disgustingly in love.” “And if she doesn’t feel the same?” “Why would you say that? Do you know something? Did she mention me?” “Calm down Munson.” “Don’t tell me to calm down Harrington! I’m in fucking love and you’re both being assholes about it!” “Jesus let me just talk to her and get this over with just…go walk around the store while I see what I can do.” “But not by the door…I don’t want you getting any ideas about leaving without any supervision.” “Yeah yeah whatever I’ll be in the horror section…oh shit.” “What?” “What if she doesn’t like scary movies? I’m gonna have to watch…romcoms…” “Oh my god you’re so annoying.” “I’m gonna go in the back and text her…” “oh so you’re just gonna leave me alone with him? Nice Buckley real nice.” “Later losers…I’ll either be back with good news or….I won’t be back at all.”

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @corrodedcoffinfest.

Headlines

Day #16 - Struggling | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: M | CW: Substance Abuse, Addiction, Minor Mention of Pregnancy | POV: Gareth | Pairing: Gareth/Di (OC, Off-Screen), Minor Steddie | Tags: Clawing Your Way Out Of Rock Bottom, Tough Love, But Love

The headlines never stop coming, never relent, and if he dares to step foot out of his house there's a camera shoved in his face. Struggling, apparently, isn't allowed. The fall from grace must always be captured for the masses to gossip about.

His phone rings again, and again, and he lets it. He's not about to answer the phone and listen to anyone that's on the other end. He's heard it all before, and he doesn't have the energy for more of it. Not for Eddie's nagging or Steve's next plan of action. 

He's tried. They've all tried. It's useless.

He's useless.

Now, there's annoying banging on the door. He ignores that, too. 

"Hey, asshole, I know you're in there!" Goodie hollers through the door, and he's sure the next headline will read:

Former Drummer Evicted, Noise Complaints

Goodie can't actually get into the shitty apartment Gareth's been renting, so Gareth just props his feet up on the couch and ignores him. If he wants to yell through the door like an asshole, Gareth will let him. Gareth puts his headphones on, and blocks out the world. 

He's been good at that recently. Has had to be, if he hopes to survive this.

He closes his eyes and leans back.

Goodie lost the right to talk to him when he voted him out. All three of them, turning on him. Steve too, and Di. His own fucking wife. Giving him ultimatums that they all damn well knew he'd never be able to make good on.

Interventions that would never work, that he never wanted to work. He was fine. He was still showing up, drumming, and they thought they deserved more from him than his work. 

He can drum.

He can't stay sober. 

He jumps when the earphones are being plucked off of his head. 

"Jesus Christ, Goodie," Gareth snaps, but it isn't Goodie. At least, not just Goodie. 

It's Eddie, of course it is, who else could have picked the fucking locks? And of course, that means Steve, too, who is already gathering up the mess, shoving it into a trash bag by the handful.

Jeff standing there, holding it open for him.

They all wrote him off, months ago, and now here they are, harassing him further. It's bullshit. They wanted him gone? Great. Then they need to leave him alone, now. 

"Enough," Eddie says, "bender's over."

"Fuck you," Gareth snaps. He'll be done when he's good and ready, and he doesn't see that day coming anytime soon.

"Get up, let's go," Eddie says, and he pulls on Gareth's arms until he's standing, and then he's dragging him to the bathroom, Goodie kicking him on the ass the whole way, shoving him along.

"Stop it!" Gareth snaps, wheeling around on Goodie, only stopping because Eddie's restraining him.

"Goodie," Eddie warns, shutting the bathroom door, locking Goodie out, shaking his head in disapproval.

"Kid," Eddie says, meeting Gareth's eyes in the mirror. 

Gareth hasn't looked in a mirror in, well, a while. It isn't good. His eyes are dark, and purple underneath. This isn't what he should look like, and he knows it.

He's fucked it all up. His job, his band, his friendships, his goddamn marriage. 

His chance to be a dad in anything other than name.

"She had that baby?" Gareth asks, looking down at the floor.

"Not yet," Eddie answers, opening the shower door, "Here, get in."

And Gareth doesn't want to fight with him, so he does. Undresses and showers, and he feels a little better. Still awful. But a degree less, maybe.

"You can still turn this around," Eddie says from outside the shower door, "it's not too late. I'll help you."

It is too late. Di won't take him back. The band won't take him back. It is too late. Has been for a while.

"I can't fix this, I'm too far gone," Gareth mutters back.

"You're fucking not, shut up," Eddie snaps.

His own band kicked him out, replaced him. His wife left him, is having a baby that's he's not sure he'll have any parental rights to, or ability to see, and for good reason. He's a fuck-up. Unreliable. 

"Let me help you. We have all summer off."

Gareth looks at him, "You took the summer off? Why?"

Corroded Coffin never takes the summer off. They go, go, go during the summer. Five shows a week, at a flat run. That's what they're good at. Covering ground, entertaining crowds. 

"Because you're more important. I'm so sorry that we haven't gone about this right."

It's not Eddie's fault. Gareth knows that. Knows he only has himself to blame, even if most of the time he likes to lash out, and pretend otherwise. 

Down deep, he knows.

Down deep, he'd like to crawl out of this hole, but he can't really see daylight.

He's been digging too long.

"I don't think I can," Gareth whispers.

Eddie pulls him to his chest, hugging him tight, and it's been too long, and Gareth hugs back, "That's okay. I know you can."

And Gareth wants that to be true. Wants the trajectory to change. Wants his life back. All of it. Di, Eddie, the band. 

If he's making wishes, he's gonna wish big. 

"What do I do?" Gareth asks, face pressed into Eddie's neck. 

"Want it back," Eddie says, rubbing his back, "Take it back. Work for it."

Gareth lets Eddie hold him, then finally asks, "Have you talked to Di?"

"All the time," Eddie whispers, "she's wants it, too."

And that's when Gareth breaks, "She'll take me back?"

"Yeah, kid, I think she will if you can show her you're serious about turning this shitshow around."

"She's having a baby," Gareth says.

"You both are," Eddie says, "and wouldn't it be nice to be involved in that?"

It would, it really would.

"And Corroded Coffin?"

"Waiting. Always," Eddie says, and Gareth squeezes him, tight. "What do you say, kid? You in?"

Yeah. Gareth's in.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @corrodedcoffinfest and follow along with the fun! 🦇

[loveinhawkins]

Steve heads outside at about 10pm, hoping that the frigid night air will wake him up a bit. He’s conscious of the fact that he’s hardly been in the party spirit, trying and failing to stifle a yawn behind the lone bottle of beer he’d sipped at before abandoning it on Robin’s kitchen counter.

It’s less a New Year’s Eve party, he thinks, and more a relieved exhale. An I’m glad we’re all here kind of party.

There’s a swing bench out on the porch, and once he sits down, he kicks the whole thing back with his feet, the movement sending more fresh air his way. It turns his forearms to gooseflesh but does little to banish the drowsiness, as if it’s somehow been waiting all year to be felt…

“Hey,” comes a voice, and Steve startles back to awareness; Eddie is suddenly sitting down beside him. “Thought you’d absconded, Harrington.”

Steve smiles at the word—“You talk like you’re in a book, dude,” he’d teased earlier that evening, when Eddie and Robin were taking exaggerated swills of boxed wine, pretending to be sommeliers. Eddie had adopted a plummy accent, went on about “heady aromas” and “full bodied complexity” until Robin snorted wine out of her nose.

“Ah, Steve, Steve, Steve,” Eddie had said in delight, “that’s part of the fun, darling.”

And it was still delivered in that stupid accent, all part of the game, but it didn’t stop Steve from feeling a glow in his chest that had little to do with the wine they ‘sampled.’

Now Eddie’s voice is back to normal, if a little softer than usual, like he doesn’t want to disturb the stillness out here. “Thought I was gonna have to look for a glass slipper or something,” he goes on, and it takes a moment for Steve, lulled by the gentle cadence of Eddie’s words, to get the reference.

When he does, he snorts. “Bit early for that. But at this rate…” And he yawns again as he speaks, aiming for a self-deprecating shrug. “At this rate, I’m sorta doubting I’ll make it ‘til midnight.”

He’s expecting Eddie to lean into the teasing, call him ancient. But instead he just looks over with a fond smile and says, “I’m not surprised, man.”

Steve scoffs. “It’s not like I’ve really done anything.”

Eddie raises an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

Steve gives another shrug. “It’s the holidays, dude, not exactly taxing.”

“Nah, that’s not…” Eddie shakes his head slightly. “You can’t see it, huh?”

“Can’t see what?”

There’s a moment where Eddie just considers him. “Steve Harrington,” he drawls, almost like it’s a little song, like Steve is the one who’s a character in a book. Like he’s someone admirable. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you, like, stop even once. And at first I thought…” He tilts a little closer on the swing, making it creak. “Like, ‘oh, that’s just how he is when the world’s ending’, right? But no. You’re like that all the damn time.”

Steve is far too tired to work out what ‘like that’ even means. He chuckles quietly, rubs at one of his eyes. “And, what, I can’t even keep going to see in the new year?”

“Eh, time’s a construct.”

“Oh, shut the fuck up,” Steve says with absolutely no bite to it. “Midnight countdown is the one time when it matters.”

“Well.” Eddie nods his head as if to say fair point. “We could time travel.”

Steve smirks. “Oh, yeah? You park the DeLorean somewhere?”

Eddie grins. “Nope. It’s—” He stops, smile fading just at the corners, like he’s suddenly a little shy. “Okay, it’s kinda stupid. Like a family thing, I guess.”

“Lucky for you that I like stupid,” Steve says lightly—doesn’t really know how to say that he secretly loves hearing about quirky family traditions, sometimes feels like he can live vicariously through them.

(The last New Year’s Eve he’d spent with his parents had been in New York, and when they were getting a cab back to the hotel, his mom had said that he couldn’t fall asleep because they were sharing the ride with some business partners; it would be embarrassing. He’d spent the journey pressing his forehead against the cold condensation on the car window, fighting sleep.)

“So,” Eddie says, “every year since I was, like,” he gestures with his hand comically low, nearly touching the ground, “Wayne always let me stay up for New Year’s, and it blew my tiny mind ‘cause I was never tired. At all. And then, I think I was, what, ten…? Something like that. And I figured it out.”

“What?”

Eddie leans forward conspiratorially. “Sneaky bastard wound all the clocks forward.”

Steve laughs and laughs. “I love your uncle.”

Eddie rolls his eyes but he’s smiling. “Yeah, yeah, he’s something else.” Then he softens. “We did it tonight, before I came here. Early midnight countdown.”

And there’s a weight to that, like Eddie can hardly believe that he got to be there, to see the tradition continue.

Then Eddie blinks, and the heaviness is gone. “How about it, Harrington?” He pushes back his shirt to reveal his wristwatch. “Wanna try it?”

Steve smiles. “Sure.”

And he watches as Eddie fiddles with the watch until it reads as being a minute before midnight; and it’s silly, he knows they're not really time travelling, but he can’t help feeling that there’s some magic involved anyway. Like there’s suddenly a little pocket of the world that’s just their own.

They count down from 10, and then Eddie does a hushed imitation of fireworks going off, which makes Steve laugh again.

“Hey, Eddie,” he says. “Happy New Year.”

And suddenly it sounds like more than that—sounds like we made it and we’re safe.

Maybe Eddie hears all that, too, because there’s a sheen to his eyes that can’t entirely be blamed on the Christmas lights. “Yeah. Happy New Year, Steve.”

They stay put in comfortable silence. Eddie starts to rock the swing slowly with one foot, back and forth, and Steve knows that he doesn’t even realise he’s doing it—probably is hearing a song in his head that he can’t help but follow the rhythm.

And at some point Steve finds that he’s catching himself on the brink of dozing, then pulling back. His eyelids keep…

The softest laugh, somewhere very close. “Oh, Steve,” Eddie sighs, and Steve can hear him smiling, can hear the fondness shining through. “There you go, big guy.”

And his head is tilting down, down onto Eddie’s warm shoulder.

“Glad you’re here,” Steve just about manages to say.

Through a dreamy haze, he feels a hand brush across his forehead; an arm around him, so he doesn’t fall. “Ah, sweetheart. So glad you’re here, too, you’ve got no idea.”

And then he’s melting into sleep, right through the gentlest turning of the page from one year into the next.

[sidekick-hero]

If I only could, make a deal with God

Written for @steddieangstyaugust Day 10 and Day 11, "Where were you?" and Temporary Character Death. They were too perfect not to combine for a quick Kas!Eddie ficlet.

Tags: Kas!Eddie, Angst with a happy ending, mind manipulation, temporary character death

words: 1.5k | AO3 | rated M

Watching Vecna burn is even more satisfying than Steve ever imagined, though the stench of burning flesh makes his stomach twist. Each bullet Nancy fires sends a thrill of fuck yes through him. With every shot, he silently dedicates it—this is for Chrissy, this is for Fred, this is for Patrick, this is for Nancy, and finally, this is for you, Max.

But as he sees Vecna’s body crash through the window, a knot of unease tightens in Steve’s gut. It’s too easy. Too damn easy. Every year, they think they've won, but they never really do. The monsters keep coming, relentless.

Steve glances up at the night sky, framed by the hole Vecna left behind. The darkness feels wrong, like it’s still hiding something. Deep down, Steve knows it’s not over. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

“Do you think he’s…” Robin begins, her voice uncertain, but Nancy shakes her head before Steve can answer.

“No,” she says, her voice firm. “I can still feel him. He’s hurt, but he’s not dead.”

Her words hit like a punch when they step outside. The ground is scorched, but there’s no body. Just empty, burned earth.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Robin mutters, pacing, while Nancy stares at the spot like it’s a personal insult. Steve knows that look—she blames herself. She feels like she failed because she didn’t kill him. As if it’s her responsibility, her burden to bear. But none of them should have to carry that weight.

Especially not the kids.

The kids.

“Dustin! Shit! Come on, we have to go!” Steve’s heart lurches as panic floods his veins. For a moment, he’d forgotten—lost in the fight, in the bitter taste of another near-miss. Dustin and Eddie, out there playing decoy, risking their lives to buy them time. If anything happened to them, Steve knows he’d never forgive himself.

He spots them almost instantly, two figures on the ground like a beacon drawing him in. The eerie silence is broken only by the haunting sound of Dustin's wheezing, mixed with raw, anguished cries.

Steve's heart hammers in his chest, and he breaks into a sprint, covering the last few feet in desperate haste. His knees hit the ground next to Dustin, and finally, Steve sees the body lying motionless on the cold, hard ground.

It’s Eddie. His eyes are open but lifeless, his skin impossibly pale, and a bright red trickle of blood runs from the corner of his mouth.

Steve knows he's gone, but he checks for a pulse anyway. There's nothing. Eddie is dead, and it's Steve's fault. He left them behind, chasing the role of the hero, and Eddie paid for it with his life.

Steve wasn’t there. He didn’t protect them, and now…

“Where were you?”

Dustin's voice slices through Steve’s spiraling thoughts, the question heavy with accusation. It's not just a question; it’s a condemnation. How could you let this happen? Why didn’t you save him?

“Dustin, I…”

“We needed you, Steve. He needed you! He’s…” A gut-wrenching sob shakes Dustin’s body, and Steve pulls him into his arms. Dustin clings to him like Steve is the only anchor keeping him tethered to reality.

“He can’t be gone. He can’t. He was just playing the most metal concert ever, Steve. He…he…”

Steve’s heart shatters under the weight of Dustin’s grief, a pain he never wanted him to bear. He recalls warning Dustin about love, about avoiding heartbreak, but this—this is so much worse than a broken heart.

This loss will change Dustin forever, just like Barb’s death changed Nancy.

Before Steve can find any words—though he doubts they would help—the girls arrive, urgency in their voices as they urge them to run. Steve looks up and sees the red storm in the sky, growing more violent with every second. They’re right. They have to move.

He pulls Dustin to his feet, but almost stumbles when Dustin resists, refusing to leave Eddie behind.

“We can’t just leave him here!”

“We have to! Dustin, come on.”

“No! I won’t leave him,” Dustin protests, his voice breaking, so Steve grabs him, hoisting him over his shoulder. He runs toward the trailer, ignoring Dustin’s screams of protest and the fresh pain from his bite wound.

Steve holds tight to the closest thing he’s ever had to a little brother, even as part of his sanity slips away at the thought of abandoning Eddie.

I’m sorry, he thinks, his mind screaming with guilt. I never wanted this to happen. I wish it was me, not you, Eddie.

“Where were you?”

A deep voice growls from behind, and when Steve turns around, the sight before him makes his blood run cold. He takes an instinctive step back, heart pounding in his chest.

It’s Eddie, but not quite.

The creature standing before him has Eddie’s familiar features—dark, curly hair, pale skin, those big dark eyes. But something’s wrong. The warm, soulful brown of Eddie's eyes is now tainted with a sinister red hue. He’s taller, his once-pale skin now tinged with an unnatural gray, and his fingernails have lengthened into sharp, claw-like points.

He looks terrifying.

And yet, beneath the nightmare, it’s still Eddie. Steve can see it, feel it.

“Eddie,” Steve begins, but the words catch in his throat, choking on the horror and guilt that threaten to overwhelm him.

“Where were you, Steve?” Eddie's voice is a mix of bitterness and something darker, more feral.

“I’m so sorry, Eddie, I…” Steve stammers, his mind racing for an explanation, for anything that could make this right, even as he knows it's impossible.

Steve’s heart races as he stares into the twisted reflection of Eddie, the boy he failed. The red tint in Eddie’s eyes burns with anger, and something far more sinister—a deep, unyielding hurt.

“You left me,” Eddie growls, his voice rough and cold, like shattered glass. “You all left me to rot.”

Steve flinches at the words, feeling their sting. “Eddie, no,” he pleads, his voice trembling. “We never wanted this. I swear, we never wanted to leave you behind.”

Eddie takes a step forward, his movements unnervingly smooth and predatory. “Liar,” he spits, his sharp nails twitching at his sides. “Vecna showed me the truth. You didn’t care. None of you did.”

“No!” Steve’s voice rises with desperation. “That’s not true, Eddie! We care about you. We all do! Dustin... he loves you, man. You should’ve seen him—how much he cried, how much he hurt. You meant the world to him. You still do.”

Eddie’s expression falters for a moment, a flicker of the old Eddie peeking through the dark rage. But the red in his eyes deepens, and he shakes his head, as if trying to shake off the doubt creeping in. “You’re lying. You’re just trying to save yourselves.”

Steve steps closer, ignoring the sharp claws, the monstrous transformation. All he sees is his friend, the boy who risked everything to protect them. “If that’s what it takes,” Steve says, his voice steady now. “If giving you my life means you’ll spare them, I’ll do it. If I could, I’ll trade places with you, Eddie. I’ll take your place in a heartbeat.”

Eddie stares at him, his expression unreadable. For a moment, the world around them seems to still, the storm above freezing in its rage. “You’d die for them?” Eddie asks, his voice softer, almost disbelieving.

“I would,” Steve says, his voice unwavering. “I’d die for you, too. Because you’re one of us, Eddie. We need you. Dustin needs you. I can’t take back what happened, but I can make sure you know that you’re loved. That you matter.”

Something cracks in Eddie’s demeanor, a chink in the armor Vecna had poisoned him with. The red in his eyes flickers, and the claws at his sides curl inward, less menacing.

“Don’t let Vecna twist this, Eddie,” Steve continues, his voice urgent, filled with the raw truth of his words. “He’s lying to you. He wants you to believe you’re alone, but you’re not. You’re never alone.”

Eddie’s breath hitches, a tremor running through him as he struggles against the dark hold on his mind. The storm above rumbles, as if sensing the shifting tide within him. “Steve, I…”

“You’re stronger than him,” Steve urges. “You’ve always been stronger, Eddie. Fight him. Fight for us. Fight for yourself.”

Eddie’s eyes squeeze shut, his whole body trembling as if he’s at war with himself. And then, with a sudden roar of pain and defiance, Eddie’s eyes snap open, the red receding, leaving behind the warm, familiar brown that Steve knew so well.

“I’m not his puppet,” Eddie growls, more to himself than anyone else. He looks at Steve, and for the first time since this nightmare began, Steve sees his friend—truly sees him—fighting through the darkness.

Steve nods, relief washing over him. “You’re not. You’re Eddie Munson, the guy who played the most metal concert ever to save our lives. And we’re gonna finish this fight together.”

Eddie looks at his hands, still twisted and monstrous, but the anger in his eyes is no longer directed at Steve or his friends. It’s focused on something far greater, far darker. “Let’s end this, Steve. For real this time.”

With a determined nod, Steve extends a hand, and Eddie takes it. Together, they turn to face the storm, ready to join their friends in the final battle against Vecna.

And this time, they’re going to win.

[solarmorrigan]

( @nitro502-the-sequel​‘s tags on this post made me ugly laugh and then I had to write something, I hope that’s okay??)

Wait, no, this is hilarious, hold on

Steve drops Eddie off at home later that night, where Wayne is awake and puttering around in the kitchen making what might possibly be lunch (he tends to keep overnight hours even on his days off, so as not to completely fuck his sleep schedule, but hell if Eddie can keep track of what time of “day” it is for him).

Wayne gives Eddie a nod of acknowledgement and turns back to the pan he’s stirring on the stove. “How was your–”

“HE CROCHETED ME A SCARF.”

This was a little louder than Eddie had meant to be, but Wayne, to his credit, doesn’t even flinch. He turns back to look at where Eddie is standing in the middle of the living area, clutching the ends of the aforementioned scarf like it’s a towel at the end of the world.

“Who did?”

“Steve.”

“Huh,” is all Wayne says. “Is crocheting the thing with the…?” He holds his fists out in front of him, rotating them at the wrists like he’s rowing a very tiny boat.

“No, that’s knitting. Apparently, they’re different,” Eddie says, brows raised and hands held up in front of him, like he can fend off the ghost of Steve’s surprisingly enthusiastic lecture on the subject. “Crocheting is with a hook, like–” Eddie holds out one curled fist, trying to demonstrate, but it mostly just looks like he’s either stabbing something or failing to pick up some invisible spaghetti. He gives up and flutters his hands in front of himself, clearing the image. “He showed me – never mind, it’s – you’re missing the point!”

“And I’m sure you’re gonna tell me what that is,” Wayne says, turning back to the stove before the beans (Eddie’s pretty sure it’s beans he’s smelling) start to burn.

“Steve crocheted me a scarf,” Eddie enunciates, because putting the proper emphasis on certain words will definitely solve the problem.

Wayne just hums. “Well, that was nice of him. Lord knows I can never get you to wear anything warm.”

Eddie groans, clutching at this scalp and then running his hands through his hair. He’s at least seventy-five percent certain Wayne is being obtuse on purpose.

“But what am I supposed to do about it?” he laments.

“Wear it, I’d say,” Wayne replies. “Can I see it?”

Eddie hesitates for a second, because it’s his scarf and Steve made it for him, and he doesn’t want anything to happen to it when he hasn’t even had it for twenty-four hours, but then he decides he’s being ridiculous, because if he can trust anyone with his stuff, it’s Wayne. He unwinds the scarf from around his neck and passes it over.

Wayne’s brows go up as he looks over the close, even stitches, running his fingers over the little ridges Steve somehow made with yarn. He nods appraisingly. “It’s nice,” he says, handing it back.

“Right?” Eddie tosses it back around his neck with a sigh.

“Did you say thank you?”

“Yes,” Eddie says, before thinking back over the moment when Steve had told him that the scarf was for him. “…more or less.”

Wayne shakes his head, turning back to his food with some unfavorable mutter about Eddie’s manners.

“Okay, but I think you’re still not seeing the problem here,” Eddie insists.

“Looks like the problem is that you’re having a conniption over a scarf in the middle of the damn living room,” Wayne shoots back.

“No, that’s– well I mean– no,” Eddie sputters. “Okay, look, what would you do if a girl made a scarf for you?”

Wayne pauses, and Eddie loves his uncle with his whole shriveled heart, but it is always funny watching him try to shift gears when he realizes they’re talking about gay things now.

“Well,” Wayne says slowly, “pretty sure I’m a little too old to have any girl knitting me a scarf.”

“Oh my god,” Eddie groans. “Fine! A mature woman, then. Work with me here!”

Eddie gets a raised eyebrow at the mature woman comment, but Wayne lets it slide. He tilts his head consideringly as he spoons some beans out onto a plate by the stove, where he’s already got toast waiting. He tilts the pan at Eddie, wordlessly offering, and Eddie shakes his head.

“I suppose I’d have to get her something in return,” Wayne finally says. “Or make her something, if I was the creative type.”

Eddie gets another pointed look at those last two words, and he groans again, letting his head fall back in defeat, because he’d been afraid that would be the answer.

“I don’t know what the hell I’m supposed to make. It’s not like I can make him warm clothes or do anything useful,” Eddie says, so caught up in the sudden and dramatic realization that all of his hobbies are entirely useless that he doesn’t manage to duck in time when Wayne gives him a not-entirely-gentle smack on the back of the head as he passes by into the living room.

“Stop that. The things you make are just fine. It doesn’t have to be useful, it just has to be thoughtful,” Wayne says, settling into his chair. “So quit standing around whining and go come up with something you can make to woo your boy.”

“Oh my god.” Eddie covers his face, even though Wayne will definitely already know he’s gone red. “You’re actually the worst. I don’t know why I talk to you.”

“You’re welcome for the advice,” Wayne drawls.

“Yeah, yeah.” Eddie waves a dismissive hand at him, but the quick “thanks” he throws out afterwards is entirely sincere.

He retreats to his room after that; apparently, he has some thinking to do.

[Part 1 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Epilogue | Ao3]

[undreaming-fanfiction]

Joining the Steddie Valentine avalanche!

In all Steve's previous relationships, he was the one taking care of everything related to the Valentine's Day. Chocolates, roses, a nice candlelit dinner, a romantic movie - he did it all because it was expected of him. And sure, he enjoyed doing it, he loved showering his dates with gifts and affection, but it was always about meeting someone else's needs. And sure, dating a guy might be different, but Steve is a giver so he's fully prepared to do the whole spiel with Eddie. He's not fully sure if Eddie would like roses so he's researching, trying to blend the typical Valentine activities and gifts with Eddie's uniqueness. He wants everything to be perfect for Eddie because damn it, he deserves it more than anyone.

So when Eddie shows up under his window after his shift on February 7th, blasting Van Halen's "Why Can't This Be Love", just briefly shouting "stay up there baby, I'm serenading you here and for that you need a balcony or something!" before belting out the lyrics, adding a comment here and there that has Steve snickering in his window:

Whoa, here it comes That funny feeling again Winding me up inside Every time we touch

"And I would love to talk about the touching bit more but you've got neighbors, baby, and they're a nosy bunch, so-"

Hey, I don't know Oh, tell me where to begin 'Cause I never, ever, felt so much Hey!

And I can't recall Any love at all Oh, baby, this blows 'em all away

"And before you ask, yep, wanna talk about the blowing bit too, but still neighbors, we're moving to a cave in the mountains, I tell you..."

It's got what it takes So, tell me why can't this be love? Straight from my heart Oh, tell me why can't this be love?

He ends up kneeling under the window as the tape clicks and he looks at Steve with those large dark eyes, flashes him a toothy grin and digs in his pockets, producing a surprisingly well preserved envelope. "Steve Harrington, the sun of my life which, unlike real sun, isn't hurting my skin or making my head spin, well actually you do the second thing, but in a good way! So you're the superior sun for me. Where was I. Oh yeah. Be my Valentine? In a week. I think. I double-checked the calendar, so it should be a week. What do you say, pretty boy? You and me and some romance? Please say yes, I'm kneeling in the snow here and it's cold as fuck."

Steve is still wheezing with laughter when he assures Eddie that he will be his Valentine, he will be the sun of his life or anything he needs and offers to let him in and warm him but, but Eddie just blows him a kiss, wiggles his finger and shakes his head. "Na-ah Stevie, I've got preparations to do. Which means, no planning or worrying your pretty head, I will handle everything for our big day. Let me just slide this bad boy in," he shows the envelope again, "which I would love to, but innuendos aside, it's just this paper thing and through your door. Open it on the morning of 14th, yeah? And follow the instructions."

And Steve just smiles down at him and blows him a kiss in return, feeling silly but also excited. "Don't I always?"

They end up calling each other in the evening of February 13th, chatting about anything and everything. Steve starts yawning but when Eddie nudges him to go to sleep, he firmly rejects. "I consider anything past midnight morning, you know," he tells Eddie and Eddie's cackling fills his ears as they wait together for the date to change into 14th.

When Steve tears the envelope open with Eddie's quiet blessing, he's surprised to see that there's nothing concrete. Just Be ready at 10, Stevie. Comfortable clothes and that pretty smile of yours are the only two things you'll need.

Eddie snickers when Steve asks him about it. "You always follow instructions, Steve, but you're way too smart about it for your own good. See you in ten hours, love you!" And with that, the phone goes silent.

Steve Harrington knows exactly how Valentine's day normally goes. It's fairly pleasant. Very romantic, all that. It never occurred to him that maybe things could be different...and better.

Eddie picks him up at 10 with hot coffee in travel cups. He asks Steve to hold both and when he does so, Eddie reaches behind his back and produces a single flower, tucks it into Steve's hair. "Flowers are not ideal for where we're going, but there's no way you're not getting at least one," he says, quickly checks the neighborhood and presses his lips against Steve's cheek before heading to his van.

And out of all places he could have thought of, Eddie takes him to a basketball game. He proudly presents the tickets and ushers Steve in, squeezing next to him into uncomfortable plastic chairs. And Steve just stares because he was supposed to be the one taking care of things, he was supposed to choose whatever Eddie likes but Eddie is here, smiling at him, even looking excited. He can't help but ask then, thank him profusely, but Eddie didn't have to, they both know it's not exactly Eddie's thing, is Eddie going to be okay-

But Eddie stops him right there with a squeeze of his hand, warm against Steve's. "I appreciate you thinking about me, Steve, you always do and I love you for it. But you deserve something nice too, you know? And sure, I originally thought - let me give you the whole thing, flowers, chocolates, fancy dinner, but...the more I thought about it, it wasn't you. Or it was, but not really? Because I don't know if you really like those things, if you want to be reminded of those formal dinners with your parents, if you want to sit in a restaurant where we can't even share a dessert because people would be assholes about it. Here," he turns to the crowd humming with anticipation, "no one cares. No one watches us. So we can do something you like and I can hold your hand. And," he admits, pulling a strand of hair in front of his face, "I might have found your...comparison to chess or even strategic games inspiring. It sort of is like a battle. And I need a good fight dynamic for my next campaign for all those nuggets of yours, so...happy Valentine's day, Steve." He phrases it as a question, unsure whether Steve found the explanation enough, but the beaming smile and interlocking of their fingers tells him everything he needs.

Steve doesn't spend the Valentine's day of 1987 sitting in a restaurant with a pretty girl. He goes wild cheering with Eddie by his side, Eddie who shares his hobby as if it was his all along. Their hands are comfortably slotted together and they are drunk on it, being together in public, side by side. When the cheering gets too loud and Steve winces, his head warning him that the noise was too much, Eddie just smiles and reaches into his pocket, producing a carefully wrapped pair of earplugs.

Steve doesn't eat a fancy pasta dish, terrified his fingers will slip and the spaghetti will fly everywhere. He returns with Eddie to his and Wayne's small home (Wayne conveniently having a shift and then stopping by Scott's) where Eddie proudly presents him with a bucket of KFC because "I've heard from a reliable source that someone finds this finger lickin' good." The painful memory has been long overshadowed by the new love and Steve listens to more of Eddie's rambling, explanations on how he thought it's either something he knows Steve likes or experimenting and then eating an inedible disaster, and Steve can't help himself but kiss Eddie to shut him up so he can tell him it's perfect.

Steve doesn't watch a romantic comedy or a period drama that day. Instead, Eddie sits him down to The Golden Girls, one of Steve's not so guilty pleasures, and combs through his hair, laughing at the jokes and arguing with Steve which of the characters is the best.

Steve doesn't get a card, a box of chocolates or something similar. Instead, Eddie gives him a mix tape with all the songs that remind him of Steve, with short recorded explanations in between. Steve wants to keep the tape - and Eddie - forever.

And finally, Steve doesn't give Eddie any generic gift either. Instead, he presents Eddie with curtains for his new room - because Eddie is a self-proclaimed vampire and the morning after Valentine, Steve examines his neck and wonders if those claims were true - with an illustration he commissioned from Will, the Hellfire logo next to the Corroded Coffin one in vivid colors on the textile. As Eddie turns a lovely shade of pink and sputters how wonderful that is, Steve reaches around Eddie's neck and gently claps a chain there, letting Eddie examine the new guitar pick with a small "S+E" engraved into the back side.

Steve Harrington didn't do a single thing he normally does on a Valentine's day during 1987. And, as he whispered to Eddie under their covers when they were falling asleep, now that he saw what the holiday could be about, he could never go back.

[blushweddinggowns]

Eddie sighed as Steve fastened the vest around him, still annoyed that he had lost this particular battle. He hadn’t spent a hundred and fifty dollars on the damn thing to go on him. 

“You got it for me against the bats, but now it’s you against the bats. It makes sense.” Steve said for the millionth time, taking Eddie’s sigh as the quiet complaint it was, “Don’t argue with me on this. Again. Does it fit okay? Tell me if it feels like it’s going to slip."

“It’s fine,” Eddie mumbled, the irritation he’d been holding back bleeding through, “It’s completely fine despite the fact I don’t fucking need-”

“Eddie,” Steve interrupted, “Stop. You’re doing the more dangerous thing-”

“Angel, don’t lie to me,” Eddie warned, his eye twitching at the very implication “You wouldn’t be letting Dustin do this shit if that was the case. We don't even know what you're up against.”

“I’m only ‘letting’ him because you’ll be there to keep him safe,” Steve sighed as he stepped back, admiring his own handiwork, “I trust you more than anyone to make sure he’s okay.”

“And who’s going to make sure you are?” Eddie asked.

Steve smiled at him. It was small, frail even. So far below the kind of joyous grins Eddie was used to. But it was real, hopeful. Steve pulled him into a hug, holding him close as he mumbled in his ear, “You will. When all of this is over, I know you’ll make sure I’m okay. Won’t you?”

Eddie couldn’t help but smile a little as he hugged him back, “You know I will. But I still fucking hate this. I don’t like splitting up. ”

“I don’t either,” Steve said softly, “But it won’t be for long, right?”

“Anytime is too long.”

“Sap.”

They were still clinging to each other, despite the fact that they were out of time. 

Everything was set. The set up on the roof, the bikes on each floor, their escape route secured. Even the journalism room was fortified, with one of the two doors blocked. The other, in prime position to be blocked just as easily, assuming that Eddie and Dustin made it back in one piece. The other three were already at the Creel house, waiting for their signal. There was nothing else to wait for. They couldn’t wait. Not when Chrissy was about to risk her fucking life. 

But Eddie still didn’t want to let him go. He never wanted to let him go. 

“It’s going to be fine,” Steve mumbled in his ear, “Just… promise me you’ll run if they start to overwhelm you, okay? Even if we aren’t back yet.”

Eddie nodded, even though it was a damn lie. He would just have to hope everything finished before he got to that point.

“I love you,” Steve murmured, letting his head slump down onto Eddie's shoulder, “So much.”

“I love you more,” Eddie mumbled back, “More than you can ever know.”

Steve nodded against him, fully aware that time was up. Nancy was already calling for him, but if anything the sound made him cling to Eddie harder. He gave him one last long squeeze before pulling back, kissing him quickly as he stepped away.

Eddie watched him and the others go, the anxiety about the whole fucked up situtation coming  back in full force, strong enough to nearly strangle him in it’s intensity. But he didn’t have time to dwell on it. 

Everything after that happened so fast, too fast. Their distraction worked perfectly, every single demon with ears was on their way towards them by the time Eddie had finished playing. They ran straight away, down the steps, down the hallways, with time to spare to block off the other exit in the journalism room. Everything was working. 

The bats themselves were struggling against their makeshift barricades, but there were too many of them to hold them back for long. They would have to leave. And leave soon, if they didn’t want to be completely overwhelmed. 

“You go first,” Eddie panted as he shoved Dustin towards their makeshift rope, his ears picking up on every sound the creaking wood of the old doors made, “Hurry!”

Dustin listened, climbing up and out of this fucked up world while Eddie lingered behind. 

Something was wrong. He knew something was wrong. If Steve and the others had won, then the bats would have already been dead, wouldn’t they? That’s what happened before with the dogs, years ago. They all went down at the same time they finished off the last big bad. 

So if Steve was okay, if they had all made it out, if they had won then they should have all gone down. But they hadn’t. They were alive and well, chomping at the bit to get at them. Which meant… that if he left, if he lost the interest of those same vile creatures, they could easily swarm right back to the house. 

Right back to Steve. Steve who was almost certainly fighting for his own life against God knew what. And that was assuming he was still alive. But… no.

Eddie couldn’t let himself think of the possibility. Steve had to be alive, and if he was alive then Eddie couldn’t risk running away. Not if it meant risking Steve’s life more than he already had. 

And if he wasn’t… then what did Eddie have to lose?

He could hear Dustin yelling at him to follow, the figure of him distorted through the portal. But he didn’t. Instead, Eddie cut the rope clean off, cutting off any way for Dustin to follow him on his impromptu suicidal plan. 

He could hear Dustin screaming at him, asking what the fuck he was doing. He didn’t have time to answer, not when the wood was straining underneath the weight of hundreds of monsters. Instead, he skidded towards the other door, pushing away the original furniture they had used to block it. The vast majority of the bats were concentrated towards where they saw them enter the room, their animalistic nature giving Eddie the slight advantage he needed. 

He didn’t look back when he bursted out of the room, he couldn’t bear to see the look on Dustin’s face. Instead, he sped down the hallway, listening to the trashing of wings hitting each other, all of them so desperate to get at him that they kept knocking each other to the ground. 

But they were following, all of them by the sounds of it. He didn’t look back,  instead he kept peddling, praying to any god out there that they would just fucking die already. 

But they didn’t. No, they were alive and well as they pursued him. He made it to the gym before the first one caught up, biting down hard into his calf. Hard enough for him to finally crash off the bike and topple to the floor. 

Everything was a blur after that, a pain filled blurr of screaming. 

It took a minute before they started tearing through the kevlar of the vest. If anything, most of them were focusing on it instead of the open parts of his body, almost like they were desperate to get to the shit inside of him that made him tick.

 Eddie couldn’t help but deliriously think that it was a fucked up instinct. The little assholes. But they had won, he felt it as they started to eat into him, no doubt sending his body into shock. 

Until it stopped. Suddenly, they were all going limp around him, the rows of teeth in his side staying embedded, but unmoving. He could barely feel the pain anymore by the time it happened.

Eddie laid there, breathing hard as he felt himself bleed out. He tried to move, tried to stand, but his body wouldn’t let him. Instead he was frozen, laying on the ground as he waited for an end he never wanted. 

He didn’t know if he did the right thing. Chances were, he’d never know. Everything was fading fast, too fast. Fast enough for Eddie to not even realize Dustin was in the room with him, not until he was lifting his head into his lap, his panicked voice cutting through the fog in his own head.

“E-Eddie?! Eddie, can you hear me?!”

Eddie nodded, his eyes feeling heavier by the moment. But he could see Dustin, Dustin who was already crying above him.

Eddie tried to smile at him, “Hey, Bud.”

“Don’t fucking bid me!” Dustin screeched, panicked hands working to try and stop the bleeding, “Why the fuck did you do that!?”

Eddie knew exactly why he did it. Eddie did it because he was a piece of shit, all the way to the end. 

Because he didn’t die to save Steve. He knew that. It wasn’t just to be his savior. Eddie was selfish when it came to Steve, worse than he could ever imagine. That prick of uncertainty, the vagueness of not knowing whether he was alive or dead, was all Eddie had needed. 

He was never going to risk a world without Steve in it. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t. Not if ever given the choice.

So he made his choice. He just didn’t have the chance to explain it all. Not now. He had more important things to say anyway, 

Eddie swallowed, his voice coming out weak, but there, “Tell Steve, I love him.”

Dustin shook his head, hard and fast, “Don’t fucking do this to us! You can’t do this!”

“Tell him he was everything to me,” Eddie went on, “T-Tell him that he deserves a good life. Make him promise to live it.”

“Tell him yourself!”

“Tell him I’m sorry,” Eddie finished quietly, the words barely escaping his mouth, “I’m so sorry.” 

It was… horrifyingly insufficient. No words would make this better. Nothing that could be said would make any of this hurt less. It was so fucking awful. Part of Eddie couldn't believe he was doing this to Steve, leaving him all alone. Every promise he’d ever made to him, broken in an instant. 

It was too heavy, too horrible. Nearly enough for him to wish that he would die faster, just to get away from it. And it seemed his wish was being granted. 

He felt cold, too cold. It wasn’t the pain. He could barely feel it anymore, his body surely going into shock.

This was really it. 

He was going to die here.

from the newest chapter of this fic

[steddieas-shegoes]

tangled with what i never said

rated e | 3515 words | also on ao3

Okay so. I listened to Blood Sport by Sleep Token earlier, and then I had angst thoughts for six hours (continuously fueled by @wormdebut and her antics damn her), and then I wrote this. I originally was gonna just leave it unresolved because I didn't wanna commit to a resolution, but I'm incapable of that. It's short and was just enough to kick start me into writing most of what I still needed to for my next chapter of mechanic Eddie, so I'd say it accomplished a lot. So sorry. - Mickala 💖

If Eddie had done just one thing differently, his life wouldn’t have ended up like this.

If he’d stopped fucking with Steve’s head, if he’d just let himself have something nice, if he’d admitted to himself sooner, if, if, if.

If he’d let himself love Steve the way Steve deserved, he wouldn’t be sitting in the back of a cop car in Chicago with no one to call.

—----------

It was easy, being with Steve, letting him in the way he never expected to let anyone in.

It was easy until it wasn’t.

They weren’t officially anything, and he planned to keep it that way, not wanting to get tied down to someone who had no intention of leaving this shithole town anytime soon.

But they fucked.

A lot.

Probably more than what could be reasonably considered a friends helping friends situation. Maybe more than an actual relationship, even.

They fucked everywhere they could get away with, as often as they could get away with, in just about any position they could get away with.

Steve pushed Eddie in ways he didn’t think he’d ever like, and Eddie pushed right back, harder, faster, more.

It was fun.

Eddie couldn’t even remember the last time he had so much fun.

He laughed while he was fucking into Steve, fingers digging into Steve’s hips as he rode him into the floor.

They hadn’t even made it to the bed this time, too overwhelmed with the need to taste each other after hours of subtle teasing by the pool, half naked and half hard for most of the afternoon.

Despite the need to taste, they had yet to kiss, yet to put tongues on any part of each other, no bite marks on skin. Yet.

It would happen soon, Eddie knew, always knew what to expect when Steve started making those whining gasps and his thighs started to shake.

No matter what position they were in, Steve’s thighs were the dead giveaway for how close he was, trembling in his hands, against his mouth, around his waist.

Eddie loved that.

He loved a lot of things about this, about Steve.

He chased that thought away as Steve let out a whimper, his hips shifting forward as he fell on Eddie’s cock.

“Yes, there, fuck,” Steve whined, lifting himself faster, higher, until Eddie was almost certain he’d go too far, and then fall back down.

Eddie gripped him impossibly tighter, bending his knees and planting his feet so he could drill into Steve’s hole harder, groaning as Steve clenched around him.

“Wanna see you come, Stevie,” Eddie gasped out.

He was standing on the edge, too, maybe even closer than Steve, the ache in his side barely noticeable past the tightening coil in his stomach.

Steve was sensitive, reactive to every change in pace or angle. Eddie used that to his advantage here, sitting up and pulling Steve’s legs around his waist.

Steve came after two more thrusts in this position, head thrown back, mouth open in a silent scream.

Eddie was only human; The moment Steve tightened around him, he was a goner.

He bit Steve’s collarbone, not caring about the bruises he’d leave behind, silently proud he was making a claim, even if he didn’t deserve it.

Steve was shaking, shivers wracking his body as the slow thrusting sent him into overstimulation.

He rested his head against Eddie’s shoulder, his breath hot against Eddie’s skin, right where his newest tattoo was healing.

“Lo…ooo..” Steve mumbled against his shoulder.

“Hm?” Eddie asked, nearly as overstimulated as Steve was.

“Luff you.”

It was still muffled by Eddie’s shoulder, but it was loud and clear enough what he was saying.

Eddie’s breath caught in his throat.

No.

“No.”

Eddie’s hands fell from Steve’s hips as he spoke, his body going numb.

“What?” Steve asked, eyes cloudy, confused about the sudden shock of Eddie being so distant while still being inside him.

“No. You.” Eddie shook his head. “You don’t. You’re just tired.”

And then Steve realized what he’d said, what was happening, why Eddie was looking at him like he’d grown a second head.

“I-” Steve sighed. “Eds, I didn’t mean to say it like that.”

“Right, yeah. Because you don’t love me. That isn’t. That’s not what’s going on. We’re just having fun until I get out of here, right?” Eddie needed that to be right, needed Steve to agree with him before the panic actually set in.

“That’s how it started, yeah, it’s just…is that really what we’re doing? Still? Is this really what just having fun is? We spend every night together, we hang out all the time, we’re just…I mean we’re basically boyfriends.” Steve watched as Eddie’s face didn't change. “Aren’t we?”

“No. No, that’s not what we are, Steve.”

He hadn’t called Steve by his actual name in months, maybe a year. It felt wrong on his lips, like venom soaking in instead of endearment coming out.

Steve pulled away, got off of Eddie’s mostly softened cock, sat down on the floor.

His legs were still shaking, Eddie could see them.

How was this happening?

How had something turned so violently towards destruction so quickly?

“Look, it’s okay if you don’t love me, Eddie. I know I’m kinda…intense with my feelings. But, like, you can’t really think we were just friends with all this?”

And, yeah, maybe a part of Eddie’s brain had come to the same conclusion as Steve, maybe even long before Steve.

But a much larger part of his brain, the part that screamed at him anytime he let himself get close to someone, concluded that there was nothing there for either of them beyond what it was on the surface.

He couldn’t love Steve because Steve couldn’t love Eddie, not the way either of them needed.

Eddie stood up, his own legs shaking with the effort, and grabbed his bathing suit shorts that were still damp.

“Eddie, c’mon. I shouldn’t have said it, but like, it’s not that I don’t mean it. And I know you don’t love me-”

“Steve. Stop.”

Steve stopped.

Eddie threw his t-shirt on, amazed that it was even in the room at all.

“I can’t do this right now.”

That seemed to set Steve off, his attitude going from concerned to angry in half a second flat.

“Can’t do what? Can’t love me? I said it’s fine if you can’t. I don’t expect you to. But it doesn’t stop me from loving you. We can do what we’ve been doing! We don’t have to change anything if you don’t want,” Steve begged.

He was begging, practically on his knees asking for Eddie to just try to be who he wanted him to be.

But he couldn’t give that to him, even when he so desperately wanted to.

“I can’t.”

When Eddie left, he left with the thoughts of I love you, I love you, I love you racing through his mind, but never leaving his mouth.

—---------------

The phone at the jail was being used by some woman who looked like she’d seen better days.

Then again, Eddie probably looked about the same.

Actually, he knew he did.

He hadn’t washed his hair in a week, not since the water heater went out. He figured quick showers to wash his body were enough, his hair would survive until they could all pitch in to afford a new water heater.

He was wearing a torn and bloody shirt from the fight at the bar, most of the blood wasn’t his, and his freshly painted nails were chipped to hell.

One of his boots had a damaged sole before he even went to the bar, and now the sole was missing.

If he let himself think it, that could be a funny metaphor. Maybe a song lyric, even.

But he wouldn’t let himself think it, not with how the cop standing next to him was shuffling his feet impatiently, like he would rather be anywhere but next to Eddie.

“I’m in cuffs, not sure why you need to be so close to me,” Eddie would never learn to shut up.

“Seen plenty of guys in cuffs decide not to be.”

Good enough reason.

He used up the few minutes standing there thinking about who to call.

He hadn’t talked to Wayne in almost a month now, and he’d be damned if his first call home since their last argument was to tell him he’d been arrested for fighting in a bar.

He definitely couldn’t call Dustin; it would wake Claudia up and he couldn’t drive here anyway.

The guys would be livid that he got arrested, had already warned him not to go out at all because it would just end in trouble.

He had no one.

“Hey, I don’t really need the phone,” Eddie sighed out.

“You get a call,” the cop sounded confused, like he’d never heard someone refuse the call before.

“I don’t have anyone to call.”

He could feel the way the cop was staring at him, could feel the sudden pity coming from him. Maybe he was a nice guy, maybe he felt sympathy for younger people who made stupid mistakes.

“Not even a friend?”

“All of my friends would hang up on me.”

“Don’t really sound like friends, then. You got a lawyer?”

Eddie shook his head, tried not to think about how much debt he’d be in if he had to pay for one.

“Court will give you one if needed. Doubt the guy will actually press charges, though. Bartender said he started it and lots of witnesses backed him up.”

“So why am I fucking here?” Eddie let some of his frustration out, not just with this, but with everything.

Being in a city he always loved, alone, hating himself more than ever.

“Gotta book ya for the night, just in case,” the cop shrugged as he gestured to the phone. “Call someone, kid.”

He reminded him of Hopper.

Maybe he could call him.

He dialed a phone number he didn’t even realize he remembered, didn’t think he’d ever use again.

He looked at the clock on the wall as it started to ring.

1:08 in the morning.

“‘Lo?”

Fuck, his sleep voice was always Eddie’s kryptonite.

“Steve.”

The other end of the line was silent, as Eddie expected. But he didn’t hang up. He had every right to, he should, but he was still there.

“I’m, uh, not sure how long they give me to talk, but-”

“Are you okay?”

Eddie could cry. He probably would if the cop behind him wasn’t very obviously listening in, if the next person getting booked wasn’t standing a few feet away waiting for the phone.

“I don’t know how to answer that question,” he admitted.

“Are you in the hospital?” Steve clarified.

“What? No. I got arrested. I just.” He let out a shaky breath before whispering, “I didn’t have anyone else to call.”

“So…you called me? Where’s Wayne? Your friends?”

It hurt to hear how removed from Eddie’s life Steve was. Six months is a long time, but having the reality of his choices hit him in the face now, at rock bottom, felt like too much.

“I don’t think they would wanna hear from me right now.”

“And I do?”

The knife twisted in his chest.

It was deserved, he deserved this, but it didn’t make the pain easier to bear.

“No. You’re right. Um, I guess I just needed someone to know. So. I should be released tomorrow sometime, but um, I guess I’ll try to call Wayne when I’m out. Sorry.”

Eddie had never sounded so hesitant, his words clumsy on his tongue, practically jumping out of his mouth before he could properly think about them.

“Wait.” Eddie glanced over at the cop, who was doing his best not to look. “Do you need money? A ride?”

He actually…didn’t know. As far as he knew, he wouldn’t need any bail money, but what would happen tomorrow? Who would show up for him?

Why would anyone show up for him when he’d been the person running from everyone for so long?

“I’ll-”

“I can be there. What time?” Steve interrupted.

Eddie turned to the cop next to him. He mouthed ‘time?’ and the cop held up two fingers.

“Two. Um, but I can get a cab. I have enough cash. I don’t live far from here,” he said, regretting making this call, even if hearing Steve’s voice felt like it was healing a wound in his chest.

“Don’t be stupid. You called, I’ll come.”

And it sounded like love, it sounded like he was giving a hint of the forgiveness Eddie didn’t deserve.

But before he could say as much, the phone line dropped off into a dial tone.

He hung up.

“Seems like you got one friend,” the cop said.

“Seems like.”

—----------------

The rest of the night dragged.

Eddie wasn’t drunk. He had one beer. He had one beer and a fight.

He couldn’t sleep, couldn’t do anything but pace the cell he was sharing with three other guys who definitely had more than one beer, and possibly more than a fight, too.

Shift change brought new faces, a woman walking by in uniform and giving a wave to everyone in the cell, an old man who looked like he should have retired before Eddie was born walking through with a coffee in his hand.

It was just another day for everyone else, but for him, it was the day he’d see Steve.

Or maybe, just maybe, Steve wouldn’t show.

He was almost hoping he wouldn’t.

But when the guard at the end of the hall brought a bag of sandwiches for everyone in the cell for lunch, he winked at Eddie.

“Your friend is tryin’ to get you out of here early. Might work, too. Jenny at the front desk loves guys with long hair.

Long…hair? That couldn’t be Steve.

He couldn’t eat, gave his sandwich to a guy who didn’t get brought in until three hours before.

He paced more.

Nothing else to do other than think about Steve standing just on the other side of the door at the end of the hall.

Until the door opened.

Then he was on this side of the door.

Steve was here.

Here for Eddie.

He stood outside the cell while the officer who walked with him unlocked the door of the cell.

And then Eddie was out.

Steve was here.

Eddie was looking at Steve.

He looked thinner, hair longer, and he was dressed in almost the same outfit he was in the last time things were normal.

Before the pool, before the ‘I love you,’ before Eddie threw everything away to be in a jail cell in Chicago.

“Stevie.”

It was broken. He could barely see through the tears in his eyes, could feel the burn in his chest that meant he was actually feeling something.

“C’mon, Eds. Let’s go home,” Steve said.

And Eddie couldn’t do anything but follow him.

—-----------------------------

The ride was quiet, especially when Steve took a left turn where he should have taken a right at Eddie’s direction, the car turning towards the highway.

“Um. Where are we going?” Eddie finally asked after a few miles.

“Home.”

O…kay. Well, Eddie’s home was definitely not in this direction, but if Steve wanted to take him somewhere else, that was fine.

He didn’t have anything to do for the next two days.

One hour later, Eddie realized that home meant Hawkins, meant Steve’s home, maybe even Wayne’s.

“You’re taking me to Hawkins?”

“I said I’m taking you home. Hawkins is home.”

“It’s-”

“It’s home. You left home and you need the people there right now more than you need to be in Chicago. We’re going home,” Steve said, leaving no room for argument.

Steve’s home hadn’t changed.

The outside was still maintained professionally, the inside was still a mix of perfect order and absolute chaos, like Steve had tried his best to keep it clean, but the kids had come behind him and fucked it all up.

It was beautiful.

Eddie missed everything about it.

He stopped in his tracks when he saw the living room.

The last place he’d left Steve, his heart, everything.

“You sleep last night?” Steve asked from behind him.

“Not really.”

“You can take my bed. Guest room is a mess right now. I’ll have dinner ready when you’re up,” Steve said as he walked to the kitchen.

He acted as if this was totally normal, like this was exactly how he planned on bringing Eddie back into his life.

Eddie wouldn’t sleep, he already knew there was no way he could be in Steve’s bed, smelling Steve’s shampoo on his pillow, remembering everything they’d done in it.

He followed Steve to the kitchen, his better judgment completely left behind in a jail cell.

“You don’t have to do all this for me,” Eddie started, watching Steve’s back tense from across the room. “I can just grab a bus back to Chicago and pretend this never happened.”

“Is that what you want?”

Steve wouldn’t look at him, but his voice was wobbling, and Eddie knew what that meant.

“No, it’s not.”

If Steve could be brave enough to drive to Chicago to pick him up, bring him home, even when he didn’t deserve the kindness, then Eddie could be brave enough to tell him what he should have six months ago.

“Then why do you expect me to want that?” Steve turned to him, eyes shining with unshed tears.

“Because I hurt you.”

“Hurting me doesn’t make me want you less, it just means I’m hurting while I love you,” Steve sobbed.

Eddie took the few steps to get to Steve by the fridge, stopping right in front of him.

“Do you?” Eddie whispered, letting the tears fall from his own eyes.

“Do I what?”

“Do you love me?”

Steve sniffled, letting out a disbelieving laugh.

“I don’t know why you think I drove to Chicago to pick you up from fucking jail, but it isn’t because I hate you.”

There he was.

That was Eddie’s feisty Steve.

The one he loved.

“I love you,” Eddie said simply.

There was plenty more to say, plenty more he��would say, but nothing would be able to happen until he said the words Steve should have heard already.

“Because I picked you up?” Steve asked, head hanging, eyes on the floor.

“No.” Eddie cupped his chin, tilting his face up so he could see him. “Because you’ve always picked me up. Because I’ve picked you up. Because I’m an idiot, but you love me, anyway.”

Steve’s kiss was wet, but Eddie didn’t care.

Any kiss from Steve was worth having, was a gift.

It was slow, but over quickly, and Eddie held back the whine he felt building in his throat when Steve pulled away.

“You loved me then? It wasn’t in my head?” he asked quietly, unsure.

“I loved you then. I love you now. Ask me again in ten years. Maybe 25. My answer won’t change,” Eddie smiled as he leaned in for another quick kiss.

“You’re awful sure about that for someone who ran from me before.”

“Nothing makes you more sure of your feelings than being alone with them for a long time. The guys aren’t really ‘talk about it’ people. I just had myself. Sometimes the bartender.”

The bartender who was probably gonna be looking for him within the next couple of days when he didn’t show up again.

Oh well.

He was home.

“You gonna stay? Let us really try? Be more than the guys who fuck every night?” Steve asked, arms crossing over his chest to protect himself.

He didn’t need to do that anymore.

Eddie wasn’t someone he needed protection from.

“I’m gonna stay and be the guy who takes you out, and who writes you songs, and who draws you stupid pictures, and who fucks you every night, and loves you. That’s who I’m gonna be.”

Steve smirked.

“Every night?”

“Every night.”

“Including this one?”

“Well…your bed is pretty comfy from what I remember. I could sleep after…”

Steve grabbed his hand and tugged him towards the stairs.

He stopped on the first step, turning to look Eddie in the eyes.

“You’re not gonna say sorry to me. You wanna know why?”

“Why’s that?”

“Because sorry is for people correcting mistakes. We’re starting fresh. No mistakes yet. You’re Eddie, I’m Steve, we love each other. That can be enough for us, I think.”

Eddie would apologize.

Steve would forgive him.

But for now, Eddie could do what Steve asked.

“We can just love each other.”

Steve nodded once, turned again, and continued up the stairs with Eddie in tow.

Forgiveness started in Steve’s bed that night, Steve sitting on Eddie’s lap like he had all those months ago, Eddie’s hands leaving fingerprint bruises on his hips, his teeth making their claim on his collarbone.