#nonbinary steve harrington

[fuctacles]

Eddie writing a love song about Steve, but changing the pronouns so he doesn't out them before they are ready. Steve doesn't mind it, he says he quite likes it, so Eddie starts calling him feminine terms. It becomes a thing, which turns into an awakening, and soon the pronouns in the song are accurate.

[decayfreely]

Crazy that Steve Harrington is nonbinary, hard of hearing, punk, mind melded to nonbinary Robin Buckley, and dating Alive Eddie Munson. Pick a struggle come on

[stevieweek]

UPDATE!

Based on the poll results,

Stevie Week will take place on June 22-28th.

You can give prompt ideas/requests in the comments of this post or through the inbox. The prompt list will be ready by the end of April.

Meanwhile, don't forget the Stobin event and Pride bingo sign-ups at @genderthings 🩷

[rogueddie]

Nonbinary he/she Steve my beloved. His gender not being fluid but his pronouns / gender presentation is and at first he thinks it'd be confusing but he realizes that he likes both he and she pronouns because, when he dresses feminine, his friends use she/her. It also encourages him to dress more feminine more often but also makes him feel more comfortable about being more masc on other days.

Bi Eddie having the time of his life, the two of them having a little in-joke where Eddie will always ask him at the start of a date if it's a boyfriend or girlfriend day, always insisting that he thinks it's beautiful to see Steve get confident and comfortable enough to be open about the pronouns not matching the presentation sometimes (feminine day but he/him).

[atimeofyourlife]

As soon as the team was asked for volunteers, Steve was the first to sign up. He usually hated working events, but this was different. This was the first event when they'd get to be themself. He'd been to pride only once before, getting dragged along with Robin the year before, and it had ended up being a world of discovery.

Sure, he couldn't be decked out in rainbows and flags, having to wear their EMT uniform. But their boss had approved pins and bracelets as long as it didn't interfere with the duty. So his uniform had their pronoun of the day pins (They/He), their updated name badge showing his choice of names (Steve/Evie), pins and bracelets of the trans, non-binary, genderfluid, and bi pride flags. And Robin had braided bi pride ribbons into his hair before he tied it back when getting ready. It was going to be a good day.

He was kept busy, like the rest of the first aid team. And being one of the highest trained on duty, one of two AEMTs and in training to become a paramedic, he was tending to deal with the worst injuries and illnesses, and having to triage for if anyone needed to be transferred to the hospital. Robin stopped by a few times, to check in, and to give them snacks. It helped break up the day as he wouldn't get a long break.

They'd had to spend some of the day hurrying around the site whenever the radio buzzed for first-aid assistance at various points around the site. He was making his way back to the first-aid tent after one call, when their eye was caught by the band on the second stage. In particular, the long-haired guitarist. Steve couldn't help watching them as he walked by, until he stumbled and nearly fell into someone. They shook their head, and dragged their eyes away to make his way back to the tent. He was there to do his job, not make eyes at a pretty guitarist. They tried to put it out of their mind, but he couldn't help looking out for the guitarist as the day passed. Not letting it get in the way of their job, but whenever they had a second free.

Late in the afternoon, they were alerted to a group of people making their way to the tent. Two guys supporting a third, with another guy ahead of them to clear the way. Steve pulled fresh gloves on and hurried down to help. As he reached the group, he realized that the guy being supported was the pretty guitarist. They tried to not think about it, needing to remain professional.

"What seems to be the problem?" Steve asked, swapping places with one of the guys supporting the guitarist.

"He nearly passed out on us." One of them responded.

"Right. Come on, we'll get you all checked out." Steve replied, guiding them into the tent.

"You can check me out anytime, sweetheart." The guitarist replied, leaving Steve fighting back a blush.

"Eddie, shut up." The guy in front snapped, before glancing at Steve. "Sorry about him."

"But he's pretty." The guitarist- Eddie- whined.

"Okay, just set him down here." Steve helped Eddie onto the bed at one end of the tent, before turning to the other guys. "Only one of you can stay in here with him because of the space, so if the other two can just wait outside?"

The other three guys looked between them, silently deciding that the shorter, curly haired guy would be the one to stay behind.

"Gare-bear, where they going?" Eddie asked.

"They're waiting outside for you, asshole."

Steve coughed a little to hide the laugh that threatened to burst out, the conversation reminding them too much of dealing with a drunk Robin, or worse, the kids while they were crossfaded for the first time.

"Okay, can I just pop this on your finger for a reading?" Steve asked, waiting for Eddie to hold his hand out so he could fix the pulse ox monitor. They then grabbed a clipboard and a blank paperwork sheet. "And while we wait for that, just a few questions. Can we start with your name?"

"Eddie Munson." The other guy, Gare? replied.

"You can take my last name, angel." Eddie said, which Steve ignored.

"Thank you, and the date of birth?"

The other guy reeled it off, as Steve wrote it down.

"And Gare, was it?"

"Gareth."

"Gareth, sorry. Can you tell me what, exactly, happened? The other guy said he nearly passed out?"

"Yeah. Uh, we were performing earlier. We're in a band. He was fine then. But in the last thirty minutes or so, he's been complaining about not feeling so good, and then he nearly passed out."

"Okay." Steve wrote down all the information, then copied down the numbers from the pulse ox. "I just need to get the rest of your vitals, okay, Eddie?"

"Anything you want. He's so beautiful, isn't he Gare?"

"Anything you say, Eds."

Steve set to taking the vitals, making sure everything was normal, but kept asking questions to get to the bottom of it.

"Any medical conditions?"

"No."

"Do you know if he's taken anything in the last twenty four hours? Any prescription meds, or over the counter, or any other substance?"

"Shhh. Gare, you can't tell him."

"Dude, I'm not a cop. I just need to know if it could be what you've taken, or so if you need any medication it won't react to it."

"He smokes, and we were smoking weed last night. But he smokes weed most weeks and has never reacted like this." Gareth explained.

"Uh-huh." Steve continued to make notes, both the answers to the questions and Eddie's vitals. "Any alcohol?"

"A couple of beers."

"When was the last time he ate?" Steve asked, frowning when they noticed that Eddie's blood sugar was on the low side.

"Wait, I think that was-" Gareth broke off for a moment. "Eddie, you certifiable moron."

"Not eaten much today?" Steve guessed.

"Not eaten at all today. He doesn't eat breakfast, ever, and he felt sick before we went on so he didn't eat lunch. And after he still didn't want anything."

"That pretty much explains everything. Plus drinking on an empty stomach is a recipe for disaster. I'll grab some water and something small so you'll feel less like passing out." Steve crossed the tent to find a bottle of water and the emergency snacks they kept, usually for diabetics.

"Here. Drink some water, and eat these. I know they're not the most exciting snacks, but you should feel better after." Steve handed it over to Eddie, a mini bag of fruit gummies, and a small pack of crackers.

Steve kept a check on Eddie as he ate the snacks. He seemed to be doing better, which put Steve's mind at ease. And kept trying to flirt, which left them fighting to remain professional.

"How are you feeling now, Eddie?" Steve asked after a few minutes, hoping that it wouldn't be too much longer before they could have a moment to freak out, preferably with Robin.

"Better. But you could make me feel incredible, big boy." Eddie said, a clear flirty tone in his voice.

"Not while I'm on duty," Steve replied slightly absently as he made a note on Eddie's sheet. Then, realizing what they'd said, fought to figure out how to backtrack without offending Eddie. "I mean, it's good that you're feeling better. I would recommend you try to get a balanced meal soon, something with carbs, protein, fibre, fats. That will help keep you feeling better, and keep you from feeling like you're going to pass out again. And it might be best if you stay off the alcohol for today."

"Does that mean- ow." Eddie started to ask something, but cut off. Steve looked up from the clipboard, and it was obvious that Gareth had elbowed Eddie to get him to shut up.

"This is your copy of the paperwork, it just has your vitals, and what's happened. If you still feel unwell later, and you need to come back here, or you seek medical attention somewhere else, you can show this, so whoever you see has some background for what has happened today." Steve explained, handing the sheet over to Eddie.

"Thanks," Eddie replied, starting to stand up.

"You're welcome, enjoy the rest of your day." Steve turned to start sanitising and packing away the equipment used, so the space would be tidy for the next person to need it. He could hear a brief, whispered conversation behind him, but ignored it. Until they felt a tap on their shoulder, and turned back to Eddie.

"For you," Eddie said, thrusting a small piece of paper into Steve's hands before leaving the tent with Gareth.

Steve unfolded it, and read the note. 'What about when you're off duty?' followed by a phone number. He blushed a little as he shoved it into his pocket. God, they needed to talk to Robin.

Later, once he was home, he finally had the chance. Not that she was much help.

"You're telling me you nearly fell over yourself because you were staring at this guy, kept looking out for him because you hoped to see him after, he shows up to the tent and is flirting with you, and gave you his number. And you haven't called him?"

"That is missing the point entirely? He wasn't well when he came to the tent, and it kinda feels like I was taking advantage of him to end up with his number after that. I should have given him to one of the others. I shouldn't have let him give me his number." Steve protested, feeling unsure if they had handled everything in the best way.

"You are the only person I have ever met who thinks that getting the number of someone you find attractive is somehow a bad thing. This is why you're still single."

Basically giving Steve my gender here. In this he's genderfluid and uses various combinations of They/He/She pronouns, depending on the day I was at pride today (well, yesterday as it's now after midnight here), and this idea came to me on the way home. Also, idk how first aid services at events work in the US, so this is vaguely based off what I know from what I've seen in the UK.

[pukner]

I need this bitch in a sundress so BAD

[formosusiniquis]

the bells, the joy (together in darkness)

Robin Buckley & Steve Harringto WC: 11963 | T | Tags/Themes: hivemind, Post S3, Scoops Troop Friendship, Nonbinary Steve and Robin, Blink and you miss it Steddie and Buckingham pre-slash AKA It's the Stobin Hivemind fic y'all! thank you very very very much to @spectrum-spectre for beta-ing this for me!!

Steve has never done LSD before. Which is the kind of statement his father would call ‘qualifying’ and ‘implies other kinds of wrongdoing, Stephan.’ Like the time he’d said he hadn’t smoked anything other than cigarettes that weekend. Apparently the ‘that weekend’ was a qualifier that got his very small pot stash flushed, and forced him into a second transaction with Eddie Munson in as many weeks.

Yeah okay maybe there were worse things, as far as punishments go.

Qualifying or not though, Steve has never done LSD. Not after the weekend he spent reading the supposedly true diary of a supposedly real teen that had been left on his bed. Like mother, like son, his father had sneered when he'd caught Steve curled up with it, like the whole plan to keep him from becoming pot-addled and destined for the gutter, or whatever, hadn’t relied on his gossipy nature.

It was mostly stupid, the book, but Steve figured it didn’t hurt to stick to weed. The stuff about that he knew for sure was totally fake.

Except now, he wishes he maybe knew a little bit more about what LSD was supposed to feel like. So he knows how to portion out blame for his current state. It’s currently 50% Upside-Down-Shit and 40% Russian-LSD-Shit and 10% Concussion-Shit, but if he’s being fair he’s blamed the Upside Down for about half of everything that’s gone wrong in his life since 1983. He’s willing to acknowledge that maybe the blame breakdown should be readjusted for this one.

“Hey Robin?” Trauma changes people, makes you want to stay close to the people who are changed the same way you are. Robin had shown up at Steve’s house the Monday after everything, trumpet case and duffle bag in hand. Apparently, she had walked from the school where she was supposed to be catching the bus to Band Camp, like she does every year. Apparently, when you undergo traumas heretofore unexperienced by any teen ever, Russian torture and flesh monsters, it’s okay to skip Summer Intensive to move in with your new best friend without telling your parents. Apparently, if you’re the kid that the Band Person, Director, wants to keep happy because in addition to the billion and seven languages you can play any instrument with a mouthpiece -- except trombone, slide positions, Steve had pretended he knew what that meant -- then you can just leave school to deal with your ‘mall fire smoke inhalation’ at your ‘aunt’s house’ instead. Apparently this is fine and Steve doesn’t need to worry about any angry former hippies beating down his dore because ‘what they don’t know won’t hurt them.’

So he can call out for Robin, without raising his voice because he knows she’s there. Somewhere in the house, the weight of it changed now that someone else is in it with him. He can call out even though he’s pretty sure she’s holed up in his Mom’s library on the ground floor, because he can feel her in the back of his brain and he knows she’ll hear him.

Drifting in an unfocused middle distance, he can imagine Robin. Curled up, she knows she’s been called for but isn’t in any hurry to comply, Steve will wait. He's fine with waiting, at least for the five minutes it will take for her to finish her chapter. He can see her, slotting her bookmark in place and sitting up straight for the first time in hours. She stretches, uncurls from the window seat that Steve also favors, gently sets the book down before letting a foot dangle and brush the floor to actually stand. And she leaves the library. She starts to feel closer, her presence looming stronger in his brain and Steve aware of himself in his own body. Then he hears her feet on the stairs.

“What is it, Dingus, did you know your Mom has a whole collection of French books? I’m in the middle of a bunch of lesbian short stories.”

“Yeah, she speaks it, not sure why.” He answers absently, “Have you ever done LSD?”

“I’ve had half a pot brownie and gotten way too high before.”

That’s not really the same thing, Steve thinks.

“I know it’s not really the same thing, Dingus, I was using it as a framework.” She flops facedown on the bed beside him, wiggling into what he’s started thinking of as her side. A lucky coincidence that she prefers to be tucked in on the side closest to the wall. Probably because she’s never seen anything burst out of one.

“Okay don’t think that, cause now I’m never going to be able to sleep again, I don’t think you’ve got enough space for us to pull your bed into the center of your room.”

He can see the way she imagines it. His bed, an island in the center of the room floating in a sea of plaid. Something about it is even more unnerving than if it stayed up against the wall.

“Not a good look.” He doubts anything will come from the walls again anyway, the Upside Down has proven to be surprisingly adaptive; it doesn't seem to attack in the same way twice. It makes it harder to be prepared, but he’s less worried about not being able to protect Robin in the middle of the night.

“Savior complex. Your mom has psychology books down there too. What does she even do?”

“Reads mostly. Do you think there’s anything down there about LSD?” He doesn’t think this is normal.

“Nice leap, Steve, I don’t think there are many drugs that link your brain with your coworker.” She says coworker, but he feels friend. Even that concept isn’t enough to describe the depth of warmth and affection that he feels wash over him as she thinks.

He lets the silence hang for a second, thinking but not sure what yet. His thoughts are slower to arrive and more jumbled in these early days post-concussion. His right hand curls, his fingers flex. First and third finger tap, then one and two, then none, one and two, and two, and none.

Robin’s knee jostles the bed as her leg bounces just a little.

“I think something else happened to us.”

“Wondered how long I’d have to tap your fingers for you before you got there with me.”

Read the rest on AO3

[italiansteebie]

steve hummed as he rummaged around the kitchen, brushing the hair out of his eyes. "you're so pretty, stevie."

"hm? oh, thanks robbie."

"no, like. i really mean it. and, yknow if you wanted... i could do your makeup sometime..."

steve's head snapped up, eyes shining. he had only mentioned it in passing, but robin noticed, of course she did. "i, uh. that'd be... nice," he said nervously, smiling at his best friend.

it was quiet after that, as steve continued to do the dishes. "hey, robbie?"

"yeah, steve?"

"do you think, well, maybe-" steve sighed, shaking his head, "never mind."

"what? tell me," robin encouraged, moving closer to him."

"could you call me stevie? not- not just steve? like, all the time?" he whispered, ducking his head.

"of course, stevie," she beamed, "wanna steal your moms make up and do make overs?" she asked, trying to lift the somber mood, silently cheering when stevie looked up with a smiling, "yeah," they said, before running up the stairs to the make up cabinet.

[bipunkharrington]

Steve, looking at a board of badges: Robin... what are our pronouns today? 🤔

Robin, half asleep: Not now Steve 😴

Steve: Oh, uh... I don't think they make Not/Now pins... we could probably make our own though right?

[decayfreely]

Stranger Things Headcanons!!

- Steve Harrington: he/she (bigender), bisexual, demiromantic, dating Eddie, mind melded with Robin (not beating the QPR allegations), Robin and Steve swapped middle names, Steven Marie

- Eddie Mundon: he/him (cis), bisexual, demiromantic, dating Steve

- Jonathan Byers: she/they (MTF) - Natalie or Nat for short, lesbian, ambiamorous, dating Nancy + Argyle

- Argyle: any pronouns (unlabeled), pansexual, polyamorous, dating Nat and Eden

- Robin Buckley: they/he/she (genderqueer), lesbian, aroace, Robin James as per the middle name swap, ambiamorous, QPR with Nancy (and Steve, people think)

- Nancy Wheeler: she/her (cis), bisexual, greyromantic, ambiamorous, QPR with Robin and dating Nat

- Eden: they/them (agender), T4T, ambiamorous, dating Argyle

- Gareth: he/him (FTM), aroace

~The Party~

- Will Byers: he/him (cis), gay, dating Mike (we all make bad choices, Will)

- Mike Wheeler: he/him (cis), bisexual, dating Will

- Max Mayfield: he/they (demi boy), bisexual, ambiamorous, dating Lucas and El

- Lucas: he/him (cis), bisexual, dating Max

- El Hopper: they/them (nonbinary), boy kisser, asexual, dating Max

- Dustin: he/they (cis), demisexual, panromantic, dating Suzie

- Suzie: she/they (cis), straight, dating Dustin

[stevieweek]

For each week of December, there are two movie titles and four prompts to get inspired by. The tag for this event is #steviesholiday

Stevie's Holiday Movie Marathon

Dec 01-08: Chrissy's Comedy Week

Dec 09-15: Eddie's Edgy Week

Movies: "The Santa Clause" (1884), "Elf" (2003)

Prompts: Decorating, Carols, Santa, Sweater

Dec 16-22: Robin's Retro Week

Movies: "Krampus" (2015), "The Nightmare Before Christmas" (1993)

Prompts: Coal, Black, Naughty, Snowstorm

Dec 23-29: Stevie's Sexy Week

Movies: "White Christmas" (1954), "It's a Wonderful Life" (1946)

Prompts: Angel, Sleigh, Family, Postcard

Movies: "Violent Night" (2023), "The Holiday" (2006)

Prompts: Red, Toys, Fur, Proposal

Important note: from now on the Ao3 collections will stay open until the next event starts.

Happy creating!

[aceing-on-the-cake]

Steve Nonbinary Subtle Wallpapers

Here's even more Steve wallpapers! As always some of these are more subtle than others so I leave it up to you guys to determine what is safe to have on your screens.

*like and reblog if you save please and no reposting is appreciated*

Let me know if there's a flag in particular you want me to make!

[decayfreely]

In my heart, jon is transfem goth (and punk but mostly goth) and steve is a nonbinary punk

They debate over the music that changed them and swap tapes to understand each other <3

love thinking about transfem stevie dating jonathan because it's literally like

jonathan: i’ll put on some music :)

stevie, seeing the smiths tape in his hand: [under her breath] i can’t not fuck him

[formosusiniquis]

Gonna Y/N on his Wattpad til we're Canon

Written for @stevieweek Day 5: AU! A little peek behind the curtain here, originally I was going to do another installment of my Miss Congeniality!Stevie/Rockstar!Eddie universe until I had the world's longest day of work and they say write what you know. Now here we are.

Pre-Stevie Harrington/Eddie Munson; Robin Buckley & Stevie Harrington WC: 3523 | T | No Archive Warnings Apply | Tags/Themes: Nonbinary!Steve Harrington; He/Him Lesbian!Robin Buckley; QPR Stobin; Librarian!Steve Harrington; Pseudo Influencers Stobin; Steve & Mike Friendship

AO3

“What are we doing, Stevie?” Robin’s voice coming from over their shoulder is a surprise if only because until Mrs. Robertson’s grandkids put her in that home next month they don’t actually live together.

Wrist deep in dishwater, the only sign they let slip that Robin startled them is the splash the plate they’d been washing makes when it lands. Flicking away water and suds from their fingers, Stevie reaches over to turn off the music they’d been playing. “If I turn around and I’m staring at your phone camera, so help me god.”

“Don’t turn around then.”

Ripping the dish towel from the stove door, Stevie gracefully dries their hands taking the time to get the dishwater wet out from between each finger. Satisfied, or calm at least, they turn to face the two unblinking eyes of the cameras on Robin’s android.

“Robin.”

From behind his phone he grins back at them, unabashed and uncaring as usual that he’s been filming for god only knows how long. “So do you want to tell everyone about what they just saw?”

They shove gently at the phone, jostling it enough that they can get past. There are a ton of things that need to be done around the apartment, chores that had been put off for Friday, but Stevie moves to the sofa instead. Now that Robin’s here nothing is going to get done. “Not really,” they say as they settle into the spot on the couch that they’ve perfectly broken in, “you know I hate it when you use your lifestyle vlogger voice with me.”

“Stevie!” Robin groans, flopping down onto the couch beside them. The camera is still up, but there’s no way the footage isn’t a blurry, motion sick mess with all of the movement that the two of them have forced it to do.  

He looks at them from over top of the phone, eyes serious even as he maintains the light and bright influencer voice on, “We owe it to the world to be a shining example of queerness in the homogenized world of the blogosphere. Me, a beautiful, occasional he/him lesbian. You, a chest-haired example that nonbinary doesn’t mean fem-lite, the both of us educating the world on what a queerplatonic relationship looks like and how it isn’t just ‘friends with a fancy name.’”

“Fine.”

“Fine!” he shoves at their shoulder, shaking them with a good natured vigor that pulls a laugh from Stevie for the first time in hours. “Okay, starting over. Stevie, do you want to tell our viewers who are helping us afford that new condo what they just witnessed.”

“There really isn’t anything to explain, Robin.” They say in the voice they’ve started adopting when the camera is in their face. Fake, a little extra. Something just a step beyond the persona that they relied on to get through the first couple years of high school.

“Ugh!”

“There isn’t! It’s been the longest day in the history of the entire world,” they point at the camera, looking into those blank black eyes. “If anyone in our audience has kids that they bring to a library, be good and kind to your children’s librarians, they are suffering. 

“I wanted kids,” they say as an aside to him, “remember how I wanted kids.”

Robin rolls his eyes, “So you’ve had a long day and decided to do what about it?”

“I’ve had the longest day.” They correct. “My one man department hosted three events, saw three hundred kids and someone peed in the floor.”

“So you decided to do what about it?”

“So I did what I always do at the end of a really long day. I put on my person-maker playlist.”

“Which is different from your baby-making playlist.”

“Obviously. That’s for sex. ” Stevie grins, mostly for Robin but they know it will get gif’d by the minimal audience that the channel the two of them ‘share’ has collected. “This is a bunch of songs that sound good when they’re really loud, with a solid bassline that I can play until I remember that I’m a person with a body that gets 12 hours at home before I have to go back to work and have parents ask me again why I don’t have the right free stuff to give to their kids for reading books.”

“You’re losing the plot and making me sad.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Which one of us had to clean up another human person’s pee today as part of their job after getting yelled at for not having enough dinosaurs?”

“Who is the only band on this playlist right now for the third year running?”

“Don’t say it like that.”

“Say it like what?”

“Like there’s some kind of meaning to it.” The collage of their faces that Robin has as his phone case gets caught in the corner of their eye. Reminds them that this isn’t just a conversation between the two of them, it’s one between them and the 3,689 subscribers that help pay their bills. “It’s Corroded Coffin, a band I like a normal amount especially compared to our friends. When I was in high school it was a lot of dad rock and glam metal. When I was in college it was Fall Out Boy. This doesn’t mean anything.”

“It means everything when you’re 28 years old and thought about pinning a poster of the lead guitarist to our shared-”

“This is my apartment, you don’t live here. We are still living our ‘the door is always open, shared, individual apartments across the hall, Friends, Joey and Monica’ fantasy.”

“One, nobody has ever referenced Joey and Monica in duo and don’t think I’m gonna let the implication that I’m Joey slide. Two, you’ve just admitted that it’s our shared living space! As your partner in crime I get to decide which things mean things.”

“Oh yeah okay. Speaking of things meaning things: does this video have a point or did you need a full explanation of my activities before you post something humiliating me?”

“Nope,” he says with an undue cheer, “just thought you looked like a dingus shaking your ass while doing the dishes to a grown man screaming about how sex is also religion or whatever.”

“That is not what that song is about.’

“I’ll take your word for it, I didn’t grow up repressed and vaguely Catholic so I’m sure I’m missing some context.”

“Whatever.”

“Whatever,” he mocks.

They think about letting this be the rest of the evening, getting baited into another argument about stupid shit that they'll meander through for hours. At some point, as they chase each other's tails like puppies, Robin will forget he's filming and drop the camera and Stevie will actually be able to relax. But even with their mouth open Stevie thinks better.

“I might be the repressed former Catholic listening, but at least I know the songwriter also has a thing about punishment and forgiveness.”

They wink as the camera falls down into the sofa cushions, disappearing for however long it's about to take Robin to stop being mad at them. Now though they have opened themself up as a target of revenge, sharp smacks come along with cries of demonetization.

Robin's face is, thankfully, just as familiar blurry as it is in every other state. The only way Stevie could be any more familiar with that face is if it stared them in the mirror every morning. And that familiarity saves Robin from a trip to the floor, when Stevie blinks awake to him looming overtop of them.

“You can't be mad.”

“Whatever you did to me in your dream, you're forgiven. Unless it was shaving my head again and then you're dead to me.”

Flopping down from the plank he never had any hope of holding, Robin covers them from chest to toe. “I shaved both of our heads, it was an act of rebirth. I know you remember this. It was literally the day after our shared gender moment.”

“And I wasn't mad. Dream Robin is forgiven, real Robin needs to get off so I can go piss.”

The weight disappears from their chest, the feeling of the bed shifting under the added weight of their best friend comforting even though Stevie can feel the way he fidgets now that he's over there. Reaching for their phone on the bedside, their fingers close around nothing and suddenly things start making more sense.

“Where's my phone?”

“Why do you need your phone to pee?”

“I'm not playing questions with you, if you broke it just say something. I won't be mad. If you're pivoting into a prank channel I will be.”

Without their glasses, it's hard to make out what Robin’s face is actually doing but his hands fidget in the duvet with guilt. 

They can't be sure what his eyes are doing, but it feels like the two of them are locked in a movie standoff style, tense eye contact. Stevie can hear the kinda racist musical sting playing in their head. They squint. It doesn’t make anything easier to see, but it soothes their flaring sense of drama. 

The two of them stare: three, two, one. 

Stevie lunges first, but Robin’s elbows are sharper. They catch one to the shoulder in a downward karate chop. Twins in every way that matters, Stevie knows that Robin is only like a half inch shorter but his limbs gangle like he’s Big Bird and there’s a smaller person inside piloting him. Every time Stevie grabs for an arm or wrist they roll away, jerked in by strings. Stevie can see their phone, clutched tightly enough in Robin’s fist that it looks like it could crack.

He pulls it in tight to his chest, rolling into a roly poly ball around it.

“Okay, okay,” Stevie says, rocking back on their heels. Sight is the best place to move forward from here, if only so they can decide what kind of angry they should be with Robin right now. It’s hard to land on one when they can’t see any of the details on his face. Scrunchy face guilt is different than the kind where he can’t stop from smiling.

They lean around each other like stray cats circling in an ally. As Stevie reaches for their glasses on the nightstand, Robin rolls away with the phone still clutched tight to his chest. With them on, they can make out the pinched brow and brittle edges of his forced smile. This is more than just guilt over something, this is the same fragile shock from when he got into a college two states away and didn’t know if they’d come with. This is the face that came to Stevie the first time a research hole turned recorded rant posted online to make it easier for the Party to watch ended up being seen by ten thousand. This is the Robin that got a job offer someplace different than Stevie for the first time in years and didn’t know what to do about it.

“Just tell me what happened.” They flop back down on the bed beside crunched up limbs. Poking fingers into the ticklish spots behind kneepits until Robin starts to unfurl. “Whatever it is, I'm sure we can fix it together.”

“The video went viral.”

“That’s great?”

“Like really viral,” Robin repeats, the fluster taking over the normally soothing tone of his voice. “Like if we actually see any of the money from the video after it got ID claimed it’ll pay our bills for months viral. I had to start reporting comments for hate speech because I didn’t want to turn them off completely -- some of them are really sweet -- and the subscriber count has skyrocketed. It's kind of intimidating actually.”

“Sorry I’m so irresistible.” Robin still doesn’t crack a smile, the more he talks the more it looks like he’s about to crack apart. “Seriously, Robs if it’s just people being creeps on social media it’s not a big deal. You wouldn’t believe the kind of comments I get on my Instagram.”

“I think you should delete all your social media. Think about how cool and mysterious you would seem.”

“I think you should just show me whatever it is you think is going to freak me out.” Their phone has completely disappeared now, it’s probably been shoved deep into Robin’s sports bra where it will stay until he thinks the crisis is averted or until the sun explodes. “Is it work? One of the bitchy homeschool moms found it? My mom found it? Nancy found it and called you to say it was actually me and not her; and also she’s ending your flirtationship because virality is bad for her work? Tommy found it and called us both slurs but mine was in that kind of repressed sort of flirty way like he might want to hook up at the class reunion next month?”

“Stop guessing!”

“What! You’re freaking out, and since you won’t actually tell me why I’m stuck guessing. Unless you can get rabies from accidentally making one sorta popular-”

“Super popular.”

“Briefly popular video that no one is going to remember in a week from now because it’s the internet, then I’ve kind of run out of worst case scenarios,” they pause. “Oh! Wait, no, I’ve got another one, a really popular ‘this week on the internet’ content reviewer got both our pronouns wrong even though you literally said yours in the video.”

“Corroded Coffin saw the video and made a public comment about it.”

Stevie buries their laugh in Robin’s stomach, “Yeah, sure, if our worst case scenarios are happening inside one of those band fanfictions Mike wrote as a kid that he thinks we don’t know about.”

The rasp of the bandaid on the tip of Robin’s finger comes before the warmth of her palm on Stevie’s cheek. Face tilted up they can see the way the nerves have blown away like snow leaving only an icy seriousness. 

“Corroded Coffin saw the video,” he repeats each word, leaving a pause large enough to drive a truck through between each one, “and they made a public comment about it.”

There’s a ringing in their ears. Just overtop of that they can barely make out the sound of their own voice saying, “Let me see.”

Their phone appears from under Robin’s shirt like a rabbit from a hat, expected but no less miraculous. The notifications on the lock screen are ridiculous, numbers that make them realize their night’s sleep was saved only by the grace of do not disturb. Every person that’s ever been saved in their contacts have messaged them and every social media app they have has an red notification alert on it. Whatever public comment Robin was talking about would be impossible to find in the sea of people vying for full time public librarian and part time internet assistant Stevie Harrington’s attention.

Except every single one of their favorite baby geniuses has texted the screenshots, several times.

Mike is at the top of their inbox, beating out Dustin for the role of informant by ten minutes. He’s sent them 15 new messages, the most recent one an image and the word ‘Explain.’ He’ll be more fun to tease once they know what’s going on anyway. Dustin’s message looks more like a rant, the first sentence cut off but ‘I’m the one who intro…’ doesn’t look half as fun.

Message sixteen comes in before Stevie can open the others. The same image again and ‘How did you do this?’ Definitely the one to go to.

The same picture has been sent with every message. Making it easy to find out what has got the whole world up in arms.

Corroded Coffin @Corroded_Coffin_BandYes, we’ve seen the video. Eddie is very interested in knowing if he also features on the baby making playlist

robin rob bobbin @rockin_robin This is why i’m learning sign @believieinstevie [video]

Eddie Munson @eddiemunson_ohfishall Replying to @Corroded_Coffin_Band I said I wanted to find out what was on it the way Satan intended, just give me one chance Stevie please 🙏😈

“See what I mean.” Robin groans.

Already moving on from Mike’s messages, making sure to heart each one before they leave, Stevie has Twitter open scrolling through a heap of notifications they didn’t give a shit about looking for the one name they did. “Sure do.”

“We could take the video down, but I’m not sure that would fix anything.”

“I’m not worried about it, Rob, really.”

“Then what are you doing? Cause believe me doom scrolling through all of the terrible things people have said about you first thing in the morning is not the way you want to spend the morning.”

“I'm not doing anything.”

“You're mad, aren't you. I'll take the video down, we can pretend like this never happened.”

“If you do that I will be actually mad at you.” Stevie says. At this point it probably wouldn't really matter but the point is what's important. “Didn't you say we're making a ton of money on it?”

“If we get to keep any of it, the music copyright claim system is confusing and we've never really made enough money on anything to do more than splurge on nice pizza and wine on movie night. I think we're going to have to start a podcast.”

“The world doesn't need one more podcast. We would be like the Basement Yard but better.”

Robin wiggles down the bed like a worm, arms tucked in tight to his sides, moving until the two of them are nose to nose. A fucking busybody, Stevie saves them both the trouble and adjusts the phone so he can see it too. It took a couple tries but they finally found the tweet from Eddie, he had followed back too.

“Are you sure that’s the first thing you want to say to the guy?”

“You think I’m coming on too strong? He already knows I’m into him and his stuff.”

He shrugs, makes a face that Stevie easily interprets as yes but with exceptions. Robin actually says, “You’re better at this than me.”

Stevie Harrington reformed babysitter @believieinstevie Replying to @eddiemunson_ohfishallI’d love to hear how you sound screaming over top of it. If you ever actually wanna take your shot.

Sending it off, Stevie spares a second to wonder if maybe they should have thought this over a little longer. Here in the middle of their fifteen seconds of fame, a thirst tweet is more than just an ill advised harassment it carries weight. These thoughts aren’t going to get buried under an avalanche of fellow desperate attention seekers.

They take a screenshot to capture for posterity what will either be the last moment of semi-normal life or one of the most embarrassing faux pas they’ll probably ever have. Either way it’ll make an interesting story a couple years down the line, especially if Robin keeps this digital media creator thing up.

Another text from Mike comes through at the top of their screen. A series of frantic question marks and on the wind Stevie thinks that they can hear the sound of his scream.

They’re just vain enough to be certain that he turned on post notifications waiting to see what they would say in response to his current favorite musician.

The floating dots are in the text window when Stevie opens it up to respond. “How mean are you going to be?” Robin asks.

“He told Holly to ask me if I was really old enough to remember when phones still had buttons this week. So exactly as mean as that deserves.”

“I feel like I should be jealous that you haven’t dated Nancy in years and he’s still giving you the snot nosed little brother treatment.”

They knock their forehead against Robin’s to transfer their shared brain cell and clue him in on what he’s actually asking. “He’s a shit because I babysat him for three years longer than he probably needed a babysitter. But I’ll gladly transfer ownership, once you actually land something more than a lingering mid-afternoon wine bar thing where you both go home sober but out twenty bucks.”

Robin knocks back, “I think whatever bitchy thing you say to him will cement me as the forever favorite.”

“Guess we’ll find out.”

[Stevie]: didn’t even have to pull my hair up in a messy bun to get the y/n treatment

[Stevie]: when i get they try to anna todd me i want you to write the book

[Favorite Wheeler]: i want an autograph, 0 details and to get to be the one to tell Dustin why you turn on post notifications for your favs

[Stevie]: if this works, you can officiate the wedding

[Favorite Wheeler: [Img]

[Favorite Wheeler]: Move this to the dms before you both get canceled.

[Favorite Wheeler]: And I’m happy for you or whatever

[Stevie]: thanks, kid

[Stevie]: if it wasn’t for your 8th grade wattpad fanfiction I might not have known how to handle this

[paperbackribs]

"Hey, it's 'they/them,' dickheads," Steve interrupts exasperatedly.

Modern non-binary Eddie who is out but the kids just don't really let it sink in. Don't think about how Eddie increasingly flinches every meet-up as they exclaim during the campaign, calling out that 'he' has said this and that about the current monster in their tracks.

Steve though. Steve, feeling a little stupid the first time Eddie had haltingly told him about why it was so important to them. That the euphoria of 'woman' or 'man' was actually reserved for the fizzing feeling of rightness when gender was mixed and erased for them.

Steve, who felt the cogs in his head rubbing slowly together but had fixed the idea firmly in his heart--for the person in his heart--interrupts as the kids draw up their last play.

"They," Steve cuts in, firm and with a gimlet stare at the boys who frown up at him in confusion.

"They what?" Mike asks in exasperation, clearly expecting Steve to stutter and back away despite Steve never having backed away from a fight in the entire time the two guys have known each other.

"Who what?" Dustin mutters absently as he adjusts his gold count. "We're nearly done." He licks the tip of his pencil before returning to his count of the loot.

Lucas eyes the hardening stare on Steve's face, flicking over to Eddie's suddenly wide gaze and pokes Dustin to look up, "I don't think it's that."

Mike sighs at Steve's hands falling to his hips, recognising the chastening posture even as he doesn't understand why. Eddie though. Their expression falls from wide surprise to understanding and something with a touch of awe that Steve doesn't quite understand from his friend.

"They, you dickheads," Steve repeats, lips pursed. "Eddie is not a 'he.' They're not 'her.' They are 'they.' They are 'them.' It's not hard. I literally used it like a million times already today."

Steve sniffs into the air and Mike scowls, "It just happens; Christ, Steve."

The light dims in Eddie's eyes, but he nods gamely, voice even and-- Steve can tell--deliberately light, "It's no big deal, easy to do. Don't worry about it, Stevie."

"But it hurts you," Steve insists.

Mike's eyes widen in surprise and Lucas winces.

Eddie hurriedly shakes their head with a forced laugh, "It's not like I've not gone by 'he' for nearly my entire life." They wink at Dustin, who had raised his head suddenly.

"You did a thing," Dustin says slowly, putting down his pencil next to a dragonborne figurine and miming an exaggerated wince and flinch. "Two hours and--" he checks his Casio watch, "thirteen minutes ago when the orcs invaded. I said our dungeon master was a right man of a bastard."

Eddie softens, genuine amusement lighting their face, "I'm used to you lot cussing me out, Henderson."

"But it wasn't the swearing," Lucas says, remorse filling his voice even as he pinches Mike. The other kid yelps but quietens when Lucas leans in, heatedly whispering and Mike goes red then white in the face.

"Oh shit, I forgot."

Teeth gritted, Eddie repeats, "It's not a big deal. Now--"

"Okay," Steve interrupts again, pulling a seat over to sit next to Eddie, thighs almost touching, "then it's no skin off our nose if we start practising for you, right?"

He turns to the boys, expression pleasant for the first time, "Eddie said it's no big deal, are they right?"

Mike blinks three times before pointing to his character sheet, "Eddie should have given me experience points for the giant spider but they stiffed me."

In an uncanny echo, Eddie blinks at Mike for his word choice.

"They were right," Dustin argues. He points at Lucas, "He figured out the clue and stabbed it--" he turns his finger to Eddie, "--and so they made the right call."

Eddie blinks again with eyes that look a little moist while Lucas continues with the cues given to him by his friends. He makes a loud boinking sound, "Sucks to be you. Hey, Eddie, can I have the spear these two bozos found?"

And with that, the sound of squabbling fills the room.

Steve looks on contentedly as Eddie leans back in their throne, eyeing the boys as they confidently back the adventurers into a corner while teasing the idea of a new battle simultaneously.

Steve leans back into his small frame of a chair too, a smile playing at the sides of his mouth as he listens to his favourite people love each other in their own special ways.

[morganbritton132]

Continuing to not write a Stranger Things fic from the POV of the FBI agents spying on the party (mainly continuing from this post):

The home office in Quantico thinks this surveillance mission is going great.

The local office in Indianapolis thinks this surveillance mission is going fine.

The agents with boots on the ground have Steve Harrington staring suspiciously at them from across the street while they pretend to be the cable company.