#pre-steddie

[piratefishmama]

Corroded Coffin front man Eddie Munson and his massive lights and music displays for Halloween and Christmas where the lights flash along with Corroded Coffin music in a huge fantastical display

and Tired Single Dad™️ Steve Harrington glaring at it from his bedroom window because it plays at all hours and while his daughter loves it, Steve kinda wants to strangle his realtor because while getting a house in the 'rich people' neighbourhood was great for good schools, he got stuck living opposite a rockstar.

And he's so very tired.

Might have to go over there and yell at him.

[atmilliways]

What if a fic where Eddie finds Steve so pretty and cute and at times downright adorable that he keeps wanting to bite him, but he can't because they're friends. Eddie isn't even out to Steve, doesn't want to risk it. So instead of biting, he ends up grinding his teeth a lot.

He starts getting a lot of really bad tension headaches, which brings Steve even closer into his orbit because Steve is very sympathetic (and secretly, selfishly, kind of likes having a headache buddy, because it sucks but at least they're not, like, alone). Which means Eddie grinds his teeth more and ends up with more frequent headaches.

But trying to avoid Steve results in Steve showing up outside his door with over the counter painkillers, tea, Gatorade, Pedialyte, hot and cold compresses, high quality sleep masks for cutting out light while he rests, essential oils, anything he knows that works for him when he gets a migraine. He offers scalp massages and times his compress use and refills his cup of whatever he's hydrating with and even guides Eddie to the bathroom when he doesn't want to crack an eye open to navigate the hallway.

I don't know how it ends, but at one point Steve asks Robin if migraines are contagious. She wants to grab him and shake him a little bit because what no, but he just looks so earnest and concerned and maybe a little guilty, it'd be like kicking a puppy.

[strangersteddierthings]

What's Eight Plus Seven?

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

Prompt from @devious-kitten

Steve had a mild interest in DnD as a freshmen because of a cousin or something. The interest was killed by Eddie being mean since Steve is a jock. Post vecna Eddie finds dust covered DnD handbook Steve explains and Eddie faces a still hurt Steve as a results of his biases

((Half written fic, half rambling about how it would go down. Apologies for the formatting. Also I added more angst than the prompt called for hehe))

Steve has always loved sports. This is a well-known fact. He's played on some sort of sports team from the time he was old enough for his parents to be able to sign him up.

A lesser-known fact is that Steve loves fantasy. Or, at least, he used to. On the playground in elementary school, Steve could often be found playing knights and dragons, and it was anyone's guess if he would be a knight or a dragon on any particular day.

The summer between middle and high school, Steve spent with his grandparents from his mother's side, on the farm they'd retired on in Michigan. A month long stay that he'd shared with his cousins, Amber, Robert, and Christopher. Amber and Robert are twins, four years younger than Steve, and Christopher was two years older and infinitely cooler than anyone else Steve knew.

Christopher was on the varsity basketball team at his high school when he was just a sophomore, captain of the JV football team, president of the chess club, and in a games club.

Christopher was everything Steve wanted to be now that he was going to be in high school. Minus the chess club because

It was during that summer, Steve got to indulge in playing make believe for another summer with his younger cousins, without the judgement of people (his father and peers) who thought he was too old for such things. He also got to learn about make believe for older kids, because Christopher played a game called Dungeons and Dragons with his game club the last month of school before summer break and spent many evenings going over what had happened with Steve as a captive audience.

"I wish I'd brought the books," Christopher had whispered to him one night from the bed, peaking over to look down at Steve in his sleeping bag on the floor, "we could have played."

Steve wishes he'd brought the books, too.

At the end of July, Christopher, Amber, and Robert's parents show up to pick them up, five days before Steve's scheduled flight to Indianapolis. It's a sad goodbye because one summer a year isn't enough with his cousins but they live in Washington. Steve's always jealous their parents drive all the way to pick them up, but a little proud he gets to brag about how he's flown alone since he was seven. No one else in his class can brag about that.

His mom picks him up in Indianapolis and they go back to school shopping while there.

A week later, Steve receives a package from Christopher. Inside Steve finds Advanced Dungeons and Dragons books, three of them, and even though Christopher said nothing about advanced, he's sure he can manage. On the inside cover of the players handbook, Christopher has written:

Hey Steve, I think you'd rock playing a dwarf paladin. Let's play next summer? Christopher 1981

He spends the last three weeks of summer vacation reading the player handbook cover to cover and making a character. It's slow going, because letters don't stay where they're supposed to be on the page (that's a problem he's had his whole life, so he's not surprised but he is determined), and he's never been good at math, so getting the stats down on paper isn't easy. He can't decide what he wants to play, so he makes two characters; an elf magic-user and, of course, a dwarf paladin.

(He's a little disappointed you can't be a dragon.)

Steve's never been one to dread the first day of school, but he's never actually looked forward to it, either. It's just been another day.

Until today.

Today is his first day as a high schooler. And the only people who go to the first day are Freshman, except the upper classman that have volunteered to man the booths for school activities for the last hour of the day. It's supposed to help the Freshman get the lay of the land without being overwhelming and Steve's excited for it. He needs to see if Hawkins High has a games club like Christopher's school does.

Here Steve is, that last hour of school. He's already been to the basketball booth, promising to sign up as soon as the season started, and the swim booth because he's got a pool at his house and has been swimming for as long as he can remember and knows he enjoys it. He also stops by the football booth even though he's never played, or cared much, for it. (Maybe he's trying to emulate Christopher, sue him.). So, the final thing is to see if Hawkins High offers a chess club and a game club.

Steve is delighted to see that, though there is no games club, there is a Dungeons and Dragons club! That delight wavers because of the kid manning the booth. His hair is curly and falls just below his ears, with big brown eyes. Steve hates to think it, but he'd be cute if he didn't look like he wanted to stab Steve.

"Yeah, no, keep walking," says the boy, pulling the flier with meeting information on it out from under Steve's hand, where he'd been attempting to read it.

Steve looks up, brows furrowed in confusion. "I was reading that."

"And I said no. Jocks don't play Dungeons and Dragons."

"I could," Steve says, offended. He squints at the name tag sticker slapped diagonally across the way too big jean vest this guy's wearing. E-d-d-i-e. Eddie.

"Have you ever played?"

"Well... no, but-"

"No buts. Mitch let a jock join last year and that was a nightmare. He could barely read the rule book. And with how you were squinting down at the flier, and then my name tag, you're not going to be much better."

Jokes on Eddie, Steve's already read the rule book. Even if it was slowly. "I can read just fine."

"Can you math, then? What's eight plus seven?"

"What?"

"Simple addition. Eight plus seven. What is it?"

Steve knows simple addition. This is fine. It doesn't matter than he's been put on the spot, and that math is hard for the same reason as reading. He can do this. His hand twitches with wanting to pull it up and use it to keep track. He's faster at math when he can do that, but this jerk is mean mugging him and he just knows if he moves his hand, this guy will mock him the rest of the school year.

Eight plus seven. Ok. Make it easier, get to ten. It takes adding two to the eight to get ten. Ok. Take that two away from the seven now. That makes... five! Ok. Ten plus five is-

"Dude, it's fifteen," Eddie snaps.

"I knew that!"

Scoff. "Right. How about seventeen plus six."

Steve can feel his face turning red with embarrassment but he's not going to let this jackass be right. Round up. It takes three to get seventeen to twenty, so take three away from the six-

"23. Point proven. Go. Away. Go play your jock games and leave me- us alone."

Steve opens his mouth to argue, or maybe plead, that he can do this, and that, more importantly, he wants to do this, but laughter cuts through the air and for the first time, Steve notices the audience that has gathered. Three people are laughing at him, and his inability to do mental math, and it makes Steve snap his jaw shut and swallow.

"Mental math isn't that hard, Steve," one of them, Brant, says, as he elbows the guy next to him.

"Thank you!" Eddie says, "that's what I'm saying."

"Whatever, man, like I'd want to play make believe at this age anyway," Steve mutters and rushes away.

If, two weeks later, Steve watches Kyle trip who he now knows is Eddie 'The Freak' Munson in the bathroom, and drag him into a stall for a swirly, well, no he didn't. He briefly thinks of saying something to stop Kyle, but shoves the words down and instead turns on heel and leaves that bathroom just as the sound of flushing and Eddie yelling start. The thick bathroom door does a good job of muffling the noise and if Steve feels any guilt about that, he shoves that down, too.

Besides, Kyle's the captain of the basketball team and if Steve wants a chance to be on that team, he can't stay anything. It's a well-known fact that Steve likes sports, after all. He's going to stick to that. Screw Eddie Munson and his Dungeons and Dragons club.

Steve will get to play Dungeons and Dragons with Christopher next summer.

Except, halfway through the school year, Steve and his parents quickly board a plane bound for Washington. Turns out being as perfect as Christopher was is hard. Overwhelming.

They arrive the day before the funeral, and fly out right after it. Steve barely has time to mourn before they're shuffling him back to school that Monday.

Christopher died, and with him, so does Steve's desire to be just like him. He quits the football team. He keeps basketball because he does like it, even without Christopher's influence. He can't bring himself to get rid of the Dungeons and Dragons books, but he can't look at them, either. They end up in the downstairs hall closet, forgotten on the shelf.

So, years later, after rising to the top of the food chain (no one was ever going to embarrass him like Eddie Munson had again) and then falling to the bottom (who cares about high school popularity when interdimensional monsters exist) and of course, the years of fighting against said interdimensional monsters before ending it all in spring of '86, Steve finds himself, unwillingly, agreeing to host Hellfire since the school banned the club following the events of spring break.

Damn Dustin Henderson. Steve usually has the backbone to say no but Dustin had to play up 'getting a chance to finally just be kids' and fuck, how was Steve going to say no to that? Despite how quickly his own desire to be a freshman playing Dungeons and Dragon had been squashed, he can't be the one to ruin this for them.

"Thanks for hosting, man," Eddie says when Steve lets him in. He's an hour early but had asked if that was okay. Apparently the dungeon master has a lot of prep to do? Not that Steve would know.

"Sure," Steve says, dismissively, because while Eddie and he went through hell together, and Steve carried his sorry ass out of the Upside Down, Steve can't quite let his guard down around him.

It's funny. In the Upside Down, Eddie had made a point to tell him he's changed, is a 'good dude' now. So, what's funny is how much Eddie is exactly the same person he was five years ago. He was an ass to Steve five years ago, and as far as Steve is concerned, was also an ass to Lucas for wanting to play basketball just this year.

He swears to God, if he hears one negative thing about Lucas tonight, he's punching Eddie unconscious, no matter what the rest of Hellfire will do or say about it.

Eddie's been in his dining room for maybe five minutes before he finds Steve in the living room. Steve's got a movie playing but he couldn't tell you which one. He's not really watching it.

"Do you got a table cloth for that big table? Jeff's got a set of metal dice and I'd feel like a real ass if we scratched it on accident."

Steve takes a deep breath before answering. He hates that Eddie is considerate like this, has been since spring break if Steve's being honest, but he doesn't want to see Eddie's good qualities. So, he waves in the direction of the closet. "Yeah. There should be some in the hall closet there. Help yourself."

"Thanks."

He twists on the couch to watch Eddie cross the room to the closet door, listens as the door creaks opens, hears the quiet, pleased noise Eddie lets out when his eyes land on the stack of table clothes. Steve continues to watch as Eddie just grabs the whole stack and yanks them off the top shelf.

Which means his watching as the stack of non-fabric objects, which must have been half atop the table clothes, also tumble out of the closet, bouncing off various parts of Eddie. It's a bunch of miscellaneous items. However, Steve realizes with horror, the book that bounces off Eddie's head is his copy of the Monster Manual. Eddie has stepped back in surprise (and possibly pain), so the Dungeon Master Guide and the Players Handbook bounce off his torso and leg before landing on the ground.

"Fuck," Eddie curses, before he stares down at what just assaulted him. Steve just stares at Eddie, watching as he slowly comes to comprehend what he's seeing. He watches as Eddie bends down and grabs the Player Handbook, the last thing to fall, from a top the pile. "What the-"

Steve stands, suddenly defensive, but doesn't actually say anything or move closer. He just watches as Eddie examines the book, flipping it from front to back in his hand like the title will change if he does that enough times.

Then, Eddie turns to him, bewildered. "Present for one of the kids? Thought they all had their own copies."

"No."

Eddie flips the book open. Reads the words written in there so many years ago. "Who's Christopher? Wait. 1981? You were playing D&D in 1981?"

"None of your business, and no," Steve says, now kicking into action, stomping up to Eddie and snatching the book from his hands.

Eddie hold his hands up in defense before his eyes turn mischievous. The same glint in them now that was there when Eddie'd leaned into this space in the RV and called him big boy. "Are you lying to me, Stevie? You've played before, haven't you?"

It makes Steve's blood boil. "No. I haven't played!"

"Alright. You could now, you know," Eddie says. And it's the way he says it, all nonchalant and like he's trying to be coy about it- it tips something over inside Steve. A bottle that held his humiliation and hurt from all those years ago.

"Oh, now I'm good enough for D&D? Now I can join? Aren't I too much of a jock for you!?"

"Whoa, what's with the hostility-"

"What's eight plus seven, Eddie!?" Steve snaps. His memory might be shit these days, with all the concussions, but the unfortunate part about Steve is that he always seems to remember the bad. And he remembers Freshman First Day like yesterday. "No? How about seventeen plus six? Come on, mental math isn't hard. Or don't you remember? I'm just a stupid jock too slow on the uptake, or no, what was it you said? It'll be a nightmare to play with me, 'cause I might be barely able to read the rules?"

He watches as Eddie's face morphs from confusion, to understanding and horror. "Holy shit, Steve. That was you- you wanted to join Hellfire-"

"Yeah, and you made it pretty fuckin' clear I didn't belong in it."

"I'm sorry man. I shouldn't have- if I'd known you, I never would have-"

"That's the problem, Eddie!" Steve shouts, waving the book in front of him. "You didn't know me. You looked at me and decided for me that I was going to be a jock and nothing else and then humiliated me in front of other people! You didn't even bother to try to know me. I spent three weeks reading this stupid book cover to cover because I knew I was shit at reading and I still wanted to try anyway."

He sees Eddie puffing up in anger. "Well, I wasn't exactly wrong, was I? You were a jock, a bully even!"

"Yeah, because I was a dumb, hurt kid who decided that it was better to hurt than be hurt. As if you weren't exactly the same that day, lashing out at me first, at my reading ability, and mocking me for not being quick at math. Fuck you, Munson!" Steve walks away, not hearing anything Eddie shouts after him as he sprints up the stairs and shuts himself in his room.

Steve knows he was a dick in high school, and it's not Eddie's fault he was a dick. Steve made choices he's not proud of and no one forced those choice on him. But Eddie doesn't get to throw that back in his face. Not when Eddie made him feel humiliated and stupid on the first goddamn day of high school, long before Steve became mean himself.

[flowercrowngods]

this wouldn't leave me alone, so have my thoughts on a steve-centric "who did this to you?" steddie concept inspired by @imfinereallyy (i hope this is okay, even though it's uhhh nothing like what you mentioned)

When Eddie gets to the boathouse, he immediately notices that something is off. The door is cracked open but he can’t hear anyone talking or moving stuff around. No one ever comes here — it’s been his hideout spot since the ripe age of thirteen when he’d had hist first real fight with Wayne. 

No one comes here. But now the door is cracked open and Eddie stares at it for a good minute as though that would make it come to life and tell him who’s inside so he won’t have to look and deal with whoever decided to steal his spot. He’s really not in the mood to start any shit today, or to be called all sorts of names — most of which aren’t even half as true as people fear. 

His first instinct is to leave, find somewhere else to hide from this miserable world today, when he hears it. The sound of sniffling, followed by wet, heavy breaths. 

Oh. It sounds like someone’s crying. In his spot.

Maybe it’s some girl who got her heart broken, some dude who lost the last bit of faith in his family, or some kid who— 

Ah, fuck it, he’ll just come back later. Not his problem. Definitely not his problem. And it’s definitely not guilt or worry that gnaw at him as he turns on his heel to leave. 

But then there’s a groan. A pained groan. Someone’s in pain, and crying in his spot, and Eddie really shouldn’t make that his problem. He shouldn't. Nopbody cares when he's crying and in pain either! But fuck if he won’t be thinking about it for the rest of his life if he turns his back on whoever it is. Maybe they need help. 

They most certainly sound like they do.

With a heavy sigh, Eddie is already at the door before he can think about it too much. 

“Hello?” he asks the darkness, and immediately the sniffling stops. 

Silence falls, but only for a moment before whoever it is has to draw shaky, wheezing breaths that make Eddie swear under his breath. 

“Listen, I know you’re here.” He’s taking slow, deliberate steps, his eyes roaming he mess of boats, tools and tarp he knows so well.  “And I’m not trying to start anything. Tell me to go away and I will. But I have a first aid kit in my car and, uh, you sound like maybe you need it.” 

There’s no response, but the wheezing breaths turn into whimpers with every second that whoever it is tries very hard not to make any noise, and Eddie’s heart starts to race in his chest. He can feel worry and panic starting to rise. And overshadowing it is an overwhelming sense of dread.

What the fuck is happening? 

He tries to be careful but his mind is racing and his limbs are starting to feel like lead. His wary steps become heavy and clumsy, and then he accidentally boots something that makes a terrible, horrible noise, breaking the eerie silence. Eddie cringes and is about to apologise, when finally there is movement in his peripheral vision. 

And then he sees him. There, hidden in the shadows between a boat and the far wall, his face breaten and bloodied, his eye swelling around a nasty bruise. Wait, do bruises bleed? Should they look black like that? Is it a cut? Something worse?

Even after years of constant bullying and goading in middle school and high school, he has never actually seen someone look like this. With their face completely smashed in. It makes him freeze for a horrible, horrible moment before he saps out of it.

“Fuck,” Eddie breathes, hurrying over as fast as he can, stumbling over tools and tarp as he does. Something falls to the floor with a loud clunk and it makes the boy flinch again. Eddie curses. “Sorry, shit, sorry!” 

He makes it to the boat rather quickly, crouching down in front of the boy a few feet away so as not to spook him, not to crowd him. And then his heart only plummets further, because he knows this one. 

Steve Harrington. The boy who’s come to school with many a black eye over the past two years — but never this bad. The boy who’s been looking like the world might be about to end each time he rounded a corner in school; ever since things started happening around Hawkins. Since the Holland girl died and the Byers boy disappeared. 

It fascinated Eddie, the way Steve fell from grace. The way he turned quiet, and showed up with healing bruises. There are stories woven around it, because teenagers like to gossip and word spreads fast, and Eddie always listened with rapt attention as Harrington turned into a bit of a myth. A legend. A ghost story.

But fascination is not what he feels right now, seeing Steve like this.

His eyes are unfocused and Eddie knows about the danger of head injuries. He knows about the consequences of blood loss, he knows that Steve will be warm to the touch even though he’s shivering already, and… Fuck!

“Shit, Steve,” he rasps, not daring to speak louder lest he spooks the boy. Of all the reasons he’s had to be afraid of talking to Steve Harrington, this one might be the cruellest. "I..."

He takes in his wounds, his bruised and scraped knuckles where his hands are wrapped around the knees he’s pulled to his chest, and his split lip that he keeps biting. 

Eddie swallows before he asks, “Who did this to you?” 

But Steve just shakes his head clumsily. Sniffles again, and then his breath comes in wet heaves, and Eddie worries for a moment that he’s going to throw up now. 

He doesn’t. 

Steve’s just staring. Eddie isn’t even entirely sure he can see him, or maybe he did and then forgot, or maybe he’s fading. Eddie should do something, he should get help, he should— 

“Steve,” he says, and dares to touch him when he doesn’t react. 

A light touch to the knee shouldn’t make anyone flinch like that, but Steve’s whole body jumps, and then the shivers and the wheezing get worse. It almost sounds like a whimper, and Eddie curses again. Feels like crying now, scared and helpless as he is.

“Fuck, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, okay, I— Jesus, okay.” He swallows hard, trying to think, willing for the panic to subside and a plan to form. “You’re okay. I... I’m gonna, I’m gonna grab the first aid kit. I have it in my car. It’s not, it’s not far. And a blanket. So you'll be warm again. I’ll be right back, okay? Don’t move, don’t…" He gestures wildly, caught between reaching out and pulling away. "Don’t move.” 

Eddie takes a wavering breath and moves to stand on numb, tingly legs, nearly missing Steve’s, “Can’t.” It’s barely more than a whisper, hardly even a wheeze. It’s like he’s just breathing out words because everything else is too much effort. 

Right. Right. This is messed up and Eddie’s panicking, but Steve will be okay. Because things like that don’t happen, not here, not today, and not to Steve Harrington. 

Except this is Hawkins. Where Will Byers disappeared and Barb Holland died and many people are missing and weird shit just ends up happening everywhere even though they’re all just kids. They’re just kids. And Steve’s not even conscious enough to realise that right now. 

Eddie all but runs outside, sprinting to his van with a speed that would make the coach swallow his stupid whistle if gym class only mattered right now. It doesn't. Nothing matters, because Steve is... He's hurt. And there's no one else around to help.

Grabbing the first aid kit, a bottle of water and a thick blanket he always keeps spread out in the back of his van, he makes it back to the boathouse in no time. 

He wasn’t even gone for three minutes, but still he sighs in relief when Steve is still awake. He even looks up. Blinks. Frowns in what can only be confusion and makes Eddie's heart fall.

“Munson?” 

Fuck, that’s not a good sign. That’s messed up, it’s fucked up, it’s— Focus, Eddie! 

“The one and only,” he says, voice shaky and his smile not fooling anyone. He wraps the blanket around Steve, whose eyes are unfocused again, though he tries so hard to blink it away. 

Brave boy, stupid boy. Head trauma isn’t blinked away. Though Eddie is inclined to let him try. Maybe he’ll find a way. 

“Here.” He hands the bottle over to Steve, who grabs it with clumsy hands. He can hold it, but he can’t get it open — again, not a good sign. 

Eddie opens it for him, then turns to his first aid kit. It seemed like a great idea five minutes ago, but he’s petrified now. It’s too dark in here and he can’t really see the wounds, he doesn’t know what to use, what’s in there, he doesn’t, he can’t, he— 

The bottle, empty now, is handed back to him, bumping into his hand, tearing him away from his spiralling thoughts. 

“Thanks,” Harrington breathes, and there’s a small smile visible in the darkness. Eddie just nods and takes it with hands that are still shaking.

“I wanna help you,” he says, like it isn’t obvious. “But I don’t know how. You gotta tell me where it hurts, Steve.” 

A beat. “Everywhere.” 

Eddie sags, falling back to sit opposite Steve, frantically rubbing at his face. “Shit.” 

“Yeah.” Steve chuckles, but it sounds so wet with tears and pain, Eddie never wants to hear it again. “Thought I could do it.” 

He’s talking. That’s a good thing, right? He can’t pass out as long as he’s talking. That’s how that works, isn’t it? So, Eddie asks, “Do what?” 

“Doctors told me,” Steve sighs, his voice slow and slurring. “Told me to... to stay out of fights. Stay out of them. Said I had to make sure my head won’t—“ 

He makes a motion with his fist, and Eddie thinks he’s simulating a punch, disoriented as it is. It makes his heart fall. Is that what happened? Someone beat Steve to a pulp? Again? Just like that?

Eddie is so stuck on that thought, trying to piece together the puzzle, that he almost misses Steve’s mumbled speech. 

“Y’know, th— Said I’ll go blind. Or deaf. Or just… die.” He says it to matter-of-factly that Eddie’s heart stops for a second.

What the fuck happened to Steve Harrington? Not just today, no. What happened to him?

What happend to make him look up at Eddie Munson, out of all people, with glistening eyes so endlessly scared, and say, “I don’t wanna die, Munson. I never… I didn’t. With the monsters or the torture. I can't—” A wheeze, a keen, a whimper, and Harringtin pulls at his hair, uncaring that he's making things worse.

Meanwhile, Eddie is stuck on his words. Because what. 

“Can’t, can't die now ‘cause Tommy thinks he’s so… He’s… He’s just sad, man. Griev'n' and confused. But Billy’s gone, an'— And now I’ll…”

Steve looks at him now, his eyes shining with tears and something that Eddie’s written poems about and created characters around. This expression, like the world will end. And inspiring as it is, it fucking breaks his heart now. 

“They said my brain is hurt, Eddie.”

Eddie swallows the hurt and the fear and the complete overwhelm he's feeling. Steve is telling him things that Eddie doesn't know how to handle.

“You won’t die, Steve,” he says in as gentle a voice as he can muster right now, because that's the only thing he knows.

And he won’t, right? People don’t just die. Not from taking a punch, not when they just graduated high school, not when they’re Steve Harrington. Right? 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Okay,” Steve breathes. “That’s good.” 

Eddie wants to hug him in that moment. He never knew that this was possible, wanting to hug Steve Harrington, wanting to wrap the blanket around him even tighter and keep him safe and convince him that he won’t die. 

And then the rest of what he said catches up with Eddie and leaves anger in its wake. 

“Hagan did that to you?” 

Steve nods. “Started going off about Billy.”

Eddie’s blood freezes at that name. "Hargrove?” 

Another nod, though Steve doesn’t look too happy about moving his head, and he groans quietly. “They were friends. Tommy is angry. Grieving. Con— Confused. He was just saying shit, like it’s my fault. And it is. Kinda. But Tommy’s, he, he’s... Just saying shit. And then he punched me. A lot. And he didn’t stop. And now… is now.” 

“Yeah,” Eddie breathes dumbly, carefully bandaging the glaring wound at his temple, needing to start somewhere. “Now is now.” His blood is still frozen as he tries very hard not to listen to Steve. Nothing that Harrington says has any right to matter anything to him; they live in two different worlds. If Harrington confesses to murder while severely concussed under Eddie’s watch, then there are no witnesses to drag either of them through the mud for it. Eddie is just gonna forget about it. Or try, anyway. “But you’re… Shit , Steve, you’re really hurt.” 

Steve blinks. Pauses. And Eddie thinks he’s lost him. But then, “Yeah. I’m always hurt.” 

And that, in this little voice, is like a gut punch. Because Eddie knows something about always hurt. “What?” 

“What?” 

There is ice in his veins as he asks, “Who’s hurting you, Steve?” 

Steve looks at him, opening his mouth once, twice, like he’s about to say something and Eddie holds his breath. But then Steve’s eyes droop and he shrinks in on himself a bit more. 

“Jus’ everyone, sometimes. God you don’t… You don’t even know.” 

Know what, Harrington? Eddie can barely breathe anymore.

“’M tired, Eddie,” Steve mumbles, closing his eyes. “Don’t wanna hurt anymore.” 

“Hey, hey, no!” Eddie reaches out, catching Steve’s head and preventing it from colliding with the floor as he’s slumping and falling over. 

And just like that, the panic is back, frantic but determined this time. He’s going to get help; there’s nothing he can do with his lousy first aid kit, not when Steve keeps going in and out of consciousness like that. Not when he can barely see anything or clean the wounds properly.

He’s going to get Steve to a hospital and allow them both to forget this ever happened. Because Steve Harrington and Eddie Munson don’t breathe the same air or share traumatic stories in a boathouse like this. 

He’ll get out of Steve’s hair the second the hospital doors close behind him, and get out of whatever trouble someone like Harrington could be in. Eddie doesn’t even want to know. He doesn't want to be part of his ghost story.

But as he’s scooping him up and helping him out of the damned boathouse, clumsily preventing him from stumbling over his own feet or tools or tarp or planks or whatever fucking shit is littering the floor of this godforsaken place, he can hear Steve speaking quietly. 

"Where‘re we going?"

And even though a second ago he was determined to take Steve to a hospital, there is only one place on Eddie's mind right now. Only one place he knows where he won't be scared anymore.

"Somewhere safe," he says, tightening his hold on the boy even though his hands are shaking now, too. He looks over his shoulders the moment they're out of the boathouse, stupidly worried that whoever did this to Steve – Hagan, apparently – would still be around, would follow them and do the same shit to Eddie.

"Safe?"

"Safe."

"Okay," Steve sighs, like he believes him. Like he trusts him. Hell, they've never even spoken before, but something inside Eddie breaks at the little sigh, at the way Steve goes slack in his arms. And even more at the little, "Thanks."

If Eddie's eyes are filled with tears and the hands around the wheel are clenched so tight to hide the way they're shaking, then Steve is not conscious enough to comment on it.

(addendum 7 december) onwards to part 2

[rindecisions]

Boop

Written for the @steddiemicrofic April Prompt

Prompt | Fool WC | 454

Rating | Gen CW | None Tags | Royalty AU, Prince Steve, Jester(fool) Eddie, First meeting, Meet-cute, Boop

༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒

Prince Steve was notoriously hard to impress. He had everything and was bored of it all. Even the women that threw themself at his feet and the men that vied to befriend him.

Over the years, he grew more apathetic, forlorn, and distant. Starting on his 20th birthday, the king ordered the best entertainers in the land to attempt to entertain the prince. If they could get so much as a smile, they'd be rewarded handsomely.

None succeeded. Not the grandest story tellers, exotic dancers, praised musicians, or celebrated fools. The king became desperate enough that on the Prince's 25th birthday, he extended the offer to anyone and everyone.

With the large line-up, the Prince was all but falling asleep when a man about his own age walked into the court. The man was dressed about as well as a peasant could manage. At least he'd seemed to have bathed and brushed his hair.

"Name yourself!" Called the king's advisor.

"You can call me 'The Freak'," the man stated with a chuckle as he bowed deeply. "Everyone else does.”

Prince Steve quirked his brow, but remained uninterested.

"Eddie also works," he continued, beaming brightly at the indifferent prince. Out of his pocket, he pulled three wooden balls and began juggling.

Steve rolled his eyes and sighed.

Eddie laughed. "That not good enough for you?" he laughed and tossed the balls higher in the air. "How about that?" When he got nothing, Eddie simply smiled and tossed them even higher, but straight into the air over him. "Yeah, me neither," he shrugged, letting the balls land on his head one after another, giving no reaction.

The strange routine made Steve furrow his brow and sit upright, already far more of a reaction than the others had garnered.

"Y'see, I think everyone tries too hard to impress you with grandeur." Eddie held his arms out and spun on his heels. "Sometimes," he crooned and hopped up on the long table that held the noble's lavish meal, much to the horror of the nobles themself. He paid no mind to their gasps and jeers as he walked gracefully between the plates and goblets.

Steve leaned forward on his throne. He'd never seen someone willing to get up in the huffy noble's space like that, and that alone almost made him crack a grin. The frown was gone from his face and a light gleamed in his eyes.

"We forget that it's the simplest of things that can bring the most joy," Eddie explained with a shining smile as he knelt on the table in front of the prince, reaching forward to tap him on the nose with a small "Boop.”

Steve smiled and huffed a gentle laugh.

[morganski-19]

The One with the Cold

Robin walks out of her bedroom to find Steve wrapped in a blanket on the couch. Face down in the pillows.

“Robs, I’m dying.”

“You just have a cold, calm down.”

“Then why am I dying.” He rolls over with a groan, pouting at Robin.

She crosses her arms. “I don’t know what you want from me. You’re the one who decided to work with germ ridden six-year-olds.”

He lets out a long sigh. “I know.”

“Like seriously, I’m surprised you don’t get sick more. You practically get sneezed on daily.”

“I have a strong immune system.”

Robin glares at him.

“Normally. I normally have a strong immune system.”

Robin takes her hand and places it on his forehead. He’s slightly warm. “On a scale of dying to dead, how sick are you?”

“Just regular dying.”

She goes to the bathroom to get the thermometer out of the first aid kit. Putting it in his mouth, she walks away to get a glass of water and some cold medicine. When the thermometer beeps, she looks at it and hands him the pills.

“Just a slight fever, it should be fine. Want some tea or something?”

“Tea would be nice,” Steve says as he retreats back under the blanket.

Robin finds the empty tea box in the cabinet, cursing Steve for leaving it in there. If he wasn’t sick, she’d let him hear it. It’s a bad habit of his. She lets him know that she’s running across the hall to see if they have any.

Nancy’s door is unlocked, like it normally is. She opens it to find Nancy walking around the apartment with cleaning wipes in her hand. Scrubbing at the remotes and surfaces.

“Yours too?” Robin groans.

Nancy turns to her with an annoyed face. “Well, now I know where he got it from. Steve being a giant baby over it too?”

“What do you think? Came over to see if you had any tea, we’re out.”

Nancy throws out the wipe in her hand, placing the container on the counter. “We should, but Eddie always puts the empty boxes back on the shelf.”

“Wow, they were really made for each other,” Robin jokes. “If only they would do something about it.”

Nancy hands Robin a tea bag. “Maybe lay off the teasing for now, Eddie’s claiming he’s dead.”

Robin huffs. “That’s worse than Steve. He’s just regular dying. Do you happen to have a can of soup I can borrow too. I know we don’t have any.”

“Probably.” Nancy roots around in a separate cabinet, pulling out a can of chicken noodle soup. “Here. I just hope I don’t get sick because of this. I can’t miss work this week.”

“I mean, you just sanitized the entire apartment. And probably barred him to his room. You’ll be fine.”

Nancy knocks three times on the table. “Just in case.”

Robin heads back to her apartment after thanking Nancy for the food. “Guess who else your grubby kids got sick. Eddie. But he’s either more dramatic than you are or generally worse. He’s claiming he’s dead. Nancy’s busy cleaning so she doesn’t get sick either.”

She’s cut off when a choked snore comes from the couch. Robin laughs to herself, taking the kettle off the stove before it starts boiling. He won’t be awake for a while anyway. She grabs a book from her room and sits on the armchair, waiting for him to wake up.

It’s a few hours before he does. And the only real reason he wakes up is because he can’t breathe out of his nose anymore. Robin gets him more of the cold meds as he sits up. Shivering as the blanket falls off his shoulders. She actually makes the tea this time.

“Thank you,” he whispers when she hands it to him. Wincing when he burns his tongue.

“I just made that, dingus, it’s going to be hot.”

He shoots her a half-baked glare. “Can’t you save the insults for when I don’t feel like shit.”

Robin smiles. “Nope.”

Tag list (let me know if you want to be added or taken off) @slowandsteddie, @annieofhearts, @cacdyke, @ubpd, @captain--low, @thespaceantwhowrites, @goodolefashionedloverboi, @anne-bennett-cosplayer, @lunaticparisianlady, @apomaro-mellow, @dolphincliffs, @dragonmama76, @maggiebug417, @stevesbipanic, @fearieshadow, @eightpackdiaz, @au79burger @bookworm0690 , @practicallybegging, @potato-of-the-lord, @autumncrocusandladybug, @estrellami-1

[nburkhardt]

Robin watches from Steve’s car, sitting on the hood and wishing she was a tiny bit closer to hear what’s happening. She knows the plan; had him repeat it twice before deciding he’s ready and sent him off.

Steve walks closer to the school and waits for Hellfire to get out. He’s nervous, despite Robin’s pep talk.

The door is still firmly shut and no sigh of movement yet, he wipes his hands against his legs and holds back the absolute need to run them through his hair. Looks back towards Robin and gets a thumbs up before looking back at the still closed door.

He hears laughter before the door finally opens and there’s the group he’s been waiting for. Dustin somehow manages to smile wider, while Mike rolls his eyes and Lucas waves at him. The older members, eye him and he holds his breath as he meets eyes with the one he’s really here to see.

Eddie Munson has been the center of Steve’s head and heart for a while now. It wasn’t much of a surprise to him, not really, at least.

Taking a deep breath he makes his way over and pats Dustin on the shoulder as he passes him, stopping right in front of Eddie.

Eddie’s smile is gone and Steve wishes it would come back already. Hoping he can put it back, actually. Clearing his throat, he opens his mouth and-

“Dinner?”

Immediately shutting his eyes, cursing his brain for being dumb when a pretty boy is looking at him. Turning around he feels his face get hot as he moves at a reasonable pace - definitely not running.

“So?”

Steve looks at Robin, not daring to look towards Eddie, “the plan,” he sighed, “did not go as planned.”

She looked at him in disbelief. “You dumb fuck, Dingus. What happened?”

Groaning, he drops his head against the car and counts to three. Hopes she won’t laugh at him, but knows better. Knows she’ll definitely laugh and when they get back to work tomorrow, that he’ll see her giggling and adding yet another tally mark to the whiteboard.

“I lost all my words and just said dinner to him then ran away. Because he was looking at me!” He doesn’t whine, at least he hope it’s not whining.

Just as he knew already, Robin immediately starts laughing and patting his back, “oh you poor, poor soul. What am I going to do with you?”

I’ll be honest I started writing this in October and lost all the words ever made and couldn’t finish it. So now it’s just a small piece on how Steve doesn’t have any game when it comes to pretty boys 😇

If anyone would like, you’re welcomed to contribute either a follow up OR Eddie’s point of view of this. If you do, please tag me!

Permanent tag list under the cut!

@spectrum-spectre @itsfreakingbats @mysticcrownshipper @artiststarme @thereindeerlady @justforthedead89 @ronniescontinuum @freyaforestafay @littlewildflowerkitten @gregre369 @zerokrox-blog @flustratedcas @carlprocastinator1000 @marvelmwah @solliesolesito @navnae @i-less-than-three-you @grimmfitzz @estrellami-1 @cartercaptainofthemoon @strangersteddierthings

[a-little-unsteddie]

sleepless nights

written for @steddiemicrofic’s december prompt, pine. not sure if it makes sense at all, but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ i think it does and i like it.

wc: 508 || prompt: pine || rating: g || tags: semi-nonverbal!steve, insomniac!steve, pre-steddie

—

Ever since July, Steve often found himself unable to sleep. It wasn’t every night, but it was definitely more of them than he’d ever care to admit. He would lay in bed, staring at the unchanging popcorn ceiling, willing himself to fall asleep, to close his eyes and let sweet unconsciousness take him.

Those nights, it didn’t matter how much Steve wanted it, sleep eluded him. So, instead of laying there uselessly, he would get up and pull on some clothes, grab his bat, and head outside. To the forest.

Mostly, he didn’t pay attention to where he was going, Steve would just wander the woods. He lost himself, most of the time. Zone out, listening to the sounds of the woods around him, letting it soothe the anxiety that more monsters lurked around the pines.

This was one of those sleepless nights.

He couldn’t remember how long he’d been walking, but the moon was high and bright in the sky, casting the forest in a dim light. The steady crunching of the leaves beneath his feet helped him focus on nothing at all, instead letting his attention wander.

“Harrington?”

The sudden voice startled Steve badly enough he prepared to swing at the intruder before logic caught up and he was able to stop himself.

“Woah, woah, woah!” the voice continued in a panicked tone, which Steve thought was understandable, given he was definitely about to swing his nail-studded bat at him.

A figure came into focus in front of him, first the wild hair, then the Hellfire shirt, and Steve knew exactly who had found him.

“Munson.”

“Whatcha got there, buddy?” Eddie asked, voice concerned. Steve blinked slowly and glanced at the bat.

“…a bat.” he explained uselessly.

Eddie hummed, all high-pitched and whiny, “Yeah, bud? What for?”

Steve pondered this for a moment, “..monsters..” he settled on.

Eddie didn’t look relieved at that answer, and held out a hand, “Why don’t I take that from you, sweetheart?”

Steve blinked, looked at the bat, still poised for a swing, and slowly lowered it into Eddie’s hands. The metalhead immediately looked more relaxed, but still concerned about Steve.

“Let’s get you somewhere…not here,” he said, gently trying to coax Steve with him. Unable to really fight back, and not really wanting to, Steve followed his lead.

“What..” he tried speaking, but his voice got stuck in his throat. Eddie looked at him curiously, so he tried again. “Why…in the woods?”

“Nothing important,” Eddie assured, “at least, not more important than getting you out of here.”

“Like your voice,” Steve mumbled, suddenly feeling the exhaustion that had been hidden behind the fear, the unending anxiety that something was still out here.

“Do you?” Eddie asked, effectively distracting Steve from his thoughts. “Luckily for you, I do too.” he said jokingly, before starting to talk about anything that came to his mind. He talked about his band, the nerd club the kids were also in, his uncle, anything to keep Steve distracted.

At least until they got to his trailer.

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

here's something short and goofy for you guys bc this song has been stuck in my head all morning.

“So, Eddie?” Steve asks while he, Robin, and Eddie are lounging around Family Video on a slow Tuesday afternoon.

“Yes, Stevie dear?” “Where did the ‘Big Boy’ thing come from?”

Steve watches as every bit of Eddie freezes under his gaze. 

“Uh..”

“Yeah, I’d like to know too, what’s up with that Munson?” Robin says, leaning forward on the counter beside Steve, pushing all of her right side into Steve’s left.

Poor Eddie.

“Oh, uh, well…” Eddie’s brow furrows for a moment before something seemingly comes to him in a moment. “You know how loud the rumor mill can be, Steve-o.”

“Whattya mean?” He knows what he means, he just wants to see what Eddie will say. He also knows It’s gotta be a tortuous question for the metalhead, especially one who’s crush is the one asking him. 

That was the other thing; after Eddie’s accidental pain-med induced schmoozing of Steve and the prompt forgettening of ever saying anything, Steve (and Robin) had come to the conclusion that he’s super into Eddie too.

Now it’s just a matter of getting Eddie to admit it, and having fun flirting and making him squirm a little in the meantime.

“Well, the phrase itself is from a song, but you do know your lovely conquests would talk, right?” The blush on his cheeks just makes him look cuter.

“And you believed them?” Robin states more than asks.

“Well there’s no way I’d ever know one way or the other!” Eddie laughs, his cheeks darkening.

Ignoring the myriad of things he could say to that, Steve instead asks “What song?”

“Huh? Oh, uhm, it’s from this random tape that Wayne picked up on the road a couple years ago. Has this weird art on the cover of some guy and like, skeletons and stuff? Dan something? It’s all yellow-y orange and blue..”

“That sounds so familiar…” Robin mumbles when Steve asks, “How does it go?”

“What?”

“The song.”

“Uh…” Eddie zones off into the distance and starts mumbling to himself.

Robin is still mumbling to herself too, “That sounds so familiar, what the hell?”

Eddie presumably finds the lyrics then, because he starts singing. “Big Boy, real cool, you can tell he’s no one’s fool, And he tries so hard to come off like a star.” Eddie starts dancing around in front of the counter, “You can tell by the way he combs his hair, by the cocky grin and that moody stare. By the way he leans and juts out his hip...” He sings, pointing at how Steve is doing exactly that.

Steve laughs, waving him off, “Okay, okay, I get it! You can st—”

“Elfman!” Robin calls out suddenly.

Steve and Eddie share a look. “Who’s an elf?”

“The Dan guy from your song, Elfman? Was his last name Elfman?”

Eddie snaps his fingers at her, “That’s it! Danny Elfman!” “The guy from Oingo Boingo!”

There are a few beats of silence.

“Don’t look at me like that, he’s the singer in Oingo Boingo! My parents love their stuff, and they did that song in Weird Science!”

“Which song?”

“..Weird Science.” she says as if that was obvious.

Something clicks in Steve’s head at the name, too. “Wait, I know I've seen that name somewhere else...” He rounds the counter and toward the shelf he knows the tape he's thinking of lives; it’s a goofy movie, he’s watched it before on some of his long solo shifts and it’s honestly kind of grown on him.

He grabs up the first copy he sees, one of the Family Video plastic clamshells, and brings it back to the counter, popping the tape into their tape player.

The opening credits start up, and at the title card: “Oh hey, Pee-Wee's Big Adventure! I love Pee Wee!” Eddie says, excitedly jumping up to sit on the counter in front of the TV (and Steve).

“Yeah you do..” Robin mumbles.

“Shut up,” Steve grumbles, elbowing her a bit harder than necessary, “Look.” he points up to the text on the screen. 

“Damn, this guy’s everywhere!”

“‘Music composed by Danny Elfman’. Holy shit! Good memory, Dingus!”

“Thanks! Now what is this about Eddie loving Pee Wee?”

[afewproblems]

Angsty dialogue prompts 👀

Number 13 - "Why would you say that?"

-@strangersteddierthings

Ahhhhhh thank you for the request Jess! @strangersteddierthings I hope you enjoy, I took this into a bit of a different direction than even I expected!

***

It takes Robin's foot connecting with his ankle to make Steve realize he was starring.

At Eddie, yet again.

Something that he had been doing a lot over the last few months since everything with Vecna and the Upside Down. Since Steve and Robin had managed to drag Eddie back from the brink, fighting off inky tendrils of death as Dustin led the way while Nancy brought up the rear, shot gun in hand.

Between the four of them, Eddie had actually made it. Torn up and missing about two liters of blood, but alive.

Of course, navigating the aftermath of the earthquakes and the loss of half the town had actually made it easier to avoid the murder charges that had been lobbed at Eddie.

Especially with the way Lucas, Erica, and Max had sworn up and down that Jason had been the one responsible for all of the murders, that they had narrowly escaped becoming his final victims.

And who could argue with the evidence, certainly not Jason after the surge of white hot energy that split the earth had finished with him.

So with Eddie's newfound freedom and the inability to argue with Dustin's insistence that he had been officially adopted into the party, his presence in their lives had become something that Steve looked forward to.

It was nice having someone else his age in the group. Robin was his other half of course, his soul mate, but it was nice having another guy to hang out with, and of course it wasn't because of anything else, Robin.

He let it slip one time that Eddie had nice eyes and was easy to talk to and, do you think he's seeing anyone Bobby, and suddenly Steve is accused of having a crush. Of all things!

Steve feels two fingers suddenly pinch at the outside of his thigh and has to suppress a loud yelp as he bats Robin's hands away from his leg with a glare.

She rolls her eyes and gives him a knowing look before turning back to the conversation.

"Take Stevie over here," Eddie says around the joint between his lips. He takes a long drag before passing it over to Argyle and Steve can't help but watch, transfixed, as the smoke billows out from his nose like a dragon.

"I can guarantee you that he's seen the ocean before while the rest of us land-locked lubbers will probably never get the pleasure," Eddie continues with a wink and kicks his leg up onto the coffee table in Steve's basement.

Argyle blows out a long puff of smoke, he's leaned back against the couch with his head tipped up towards the ceiling, "thats wild man," he says with a laugh in his voice, he doesn't react when Jonathan snorts and takes the joint from his hand.

"Seriously?" Jon asks after a minute, "dude, we lived in California, we literally went to the beach all the time?"

Robin and Nancy both laugh at the noise of recognition that Argyle makes while Eddie rolls his eyes.

"Okay but for everyone else who didn't have the benefit of local geography," Eddie says, gesturing at the girls and himself, "we will be cursed to never feel the sand between our toes and all that shit".

Robin quirks an eyebrow and takes a swig of beer from the can in her hands, the sleeve of her denim jacket brushes against Steve's arm as she moves to set the can back on the coffee table.

They're the only two seated on the floor, Steve having given up the couch so everyone else could be comfortable and Robin couldn't, in good conscience, let her best friend sit by himself.

God he loves her, Steve thinks as he shoots her a soft smile.

He's never had someone that loves him so openly, so unapologetically as Robin does.

Not even when his parents were home for more than a few days a year did they show him the same kind of care that she had in their short time of knowing one another.

Sure, they teased each other, Robin had even made a new scoreboard for his failed attempts at flirting at Family Video --this one with a new section after Steve quietly admitted to her that they had even more in common than they had realized earlier.

But Robin was there, in a way that he hadn't really had from anyone else in years.

"I don't know how you deal with it Buckley," Eddie huffs. He's grinning widely at Robin and Steve, reaching to take the joint back from Jonathan.

"What," she says dryly, "Steve? He grows on you".

"He does," Nancy insists loudly from Jonathan's other side, her cheeks are flushed and her eyes a little glassy. Jonathan lifts his arm to tuck her against his side with a fond grin, he meets Steve's gaze after a minute and mouths, 'still a lightweight,' which makes Steve snort.

"This!" Eddie barks out, lifting a ringed hand to gesture around the basement sitting room, "look there's a fucking Linn LP12 sitting right beside you and a God Damn pool outside".

Steve frowns, looking from Robin back to Eddie. He feels an uncomfortable thrum roll over his skin as Eddie stands up to make his way to the sound system he pointed out.

"Jesus, I think this whole collection cost more than my trailer," he picks up Steve's mothers Joni Mitchell album, turning it in his hands, "must have been nice to have mommy and daddy's money huh? This is like 'fuck you' rich".

Steve feels a faint nervous laugh tumble out of his mouth, even as his stomach rolls at the words.

"Oh my god," Robin laughs, knocking her shoulder into Steve's own, "yes! If I had a nickle for the number of times he asked me why I don't have my own phone line yet whenever my mom answers first, I'd be as rich as Steve!"

Eddie puts the Blue album back and pulls out a copy of The Beatles and now Steve is sweating.

Because Eddie isn't wrong, this is his parents music collection and yes it did cost them a lot of money over the years. But, more importantly, it was off limits to Steve.

The last time his dad had caught him flipping through the vinyls, Steve had been sent to his room with large purple hand prints on the offending arm and two broken fingers.

"Okay, that's my dad's, put it down," he says, hiding the tremor in his voice as he gets to his feet.

Eddie rolls his eyes again but does set the record down on top of the collection. He raises his hands in surrender and raises a mocking eyebrow as he steps back towards the couch, dropping down on the end as Argyle scoots closer to Jonathan to make more space.

Argyle and Jonathan speak quietly to one another seemingly uncaring about the strange tension that begins to bleed into the basement. It's Nancy who is watching Steve, Eddie, and Robin, her mouth set in an unhappy frown.

Nancy had only met Steve's parents once during a very uncomfortable dinner, years back when they had dated. While she may not know the true extent of Steve's relationship with Richard and Cynthia Harrington, she knows it wasn't all sunshine and roses.

"Man," Eddie snorts, shooting Robin a wicked grin, "I knew your parents had spoiled you pretty rotten but I didn't think they needed to buy you a new sense of humor".

"Yeah Steve," Robin pats the carpet beside her, "it's just a joke, lighten up and come sit down".

And that, well, that hurt a bit more than Steve anticipated.

"Why would you say that?" He whispers, the words falling out of his mouth like vomit before he can stop it.

Eddie scoffs from the couch, but Steve isn't looking at Eddie. He's looking at Robin.

Robin who meets Steve's gaze with a slight frown between her eyes, she looks back at Nancy with a laugh in her smile that disappears at the frosty glare Nancy fixes her with.

She slowly turns to look back at Steve, confusion and concern in her blue eyes.

"Oh come on Steve," Eddie takes a drag of the joint, which has dwindled into something resembling a roach before stubbing it out in the brown ashtray on the table, "we're kidding, come on Byers, you get it right?"

Nancy leans up to whisper something in Jonathan's ear and whatever it is, it's enough to make him stiffen slightly and give Steve a long look before he shakes his head, "I think we're going to head home actually".

Steve nods and breathes out, ignoring the way his chest tightens as he refuses to meet Robin's worried gaze.

Eddie slowly stands to follow Nancy and Jonathan, he says something quietly to Argyle that is met with a simple serene shrug

Eddie hangs back as the other three make their way up the basement stairs. He chews his lip and clenches his fist as he looks between Steve and Robin with a frown.

Eddie stands awkwardly beside Robin, spinning one of the rings on his left hand as he looks between Steve and the stairs that the others had used to beat their hasty retreat.

Robin gets to her feet slowly, her gaze never wavering, "Steve?"

Steve winces at the way she says his name.

He knows it was just a joke, he knows he's overreacting, that neither of them could have known about his relationship with his parents.

He knows it's unfair of him to be so upset, but he can't help it.

Because Eddie mocking him, that he could deal with. He could get over it, let go of the fantasies of Eddie's crinkling eyes and warm smile that made Steve's heartbeat quicken.

But Robin?

The way she had laughed, dismissed his discomfort, it was as though he had been transported back to Tommy's basement just a few years back, listening to him and Carol tear him down.

It's just a joke Steve.

He reaches up to pinch at the bridge of his nose, flinching at the sharp intake of air from Robin who immediately makes her way closer.

"Just," he manages to say with an even tone, shaking his head. He closes his eyes and clears his throat, taking a step back from the pair.

"I'm going to bed, got a shift tomorrow, so," Steve says quietly with a shrug. He opens his eyes but drops his gaze to the carpet, knowing if he made eye contact with Robin, he would inevitably ask her to stay.

Robin opens her mouth to argue, a fierce glare in her eyes and a bright flush on her face, he hasn't seen her this upset since the Creel House.

"Steve--"

Robin jumps as Eddie reaches for her arm, pulling her back, hard enough that she stumbles slightly into Eddie.

Steve curls his arms around himself, shying away from Eddie's dark evaluating eyes. He doesn't need to see the judgment there, it's embarrassing enough feeling like he's ruined the evening because of his hangups. He doesn't need the reminder of how ridiculous it is to be angry with them over something so silly.

"Come on Buckley, I'll drive you home," Eddie mumbles as he gently tugs at her arm once again.

Steve hears a harsh sigh, but she doesn't say anything this time. He can feel her staring, as though trying to read his mind like she normally could. But Steve keeps his eyes trained on the floor, until he hears two pairs of feet finally make their way up the stairs, until the front door closes, until Eddie's van roars to life on the Harrington driveway.

Steve eventually makes his way upstairs in a daze, half heartedly getting ready for bed.

He brushes his teeth, washes his face, doing everything he can to ignore the words that echo in his head over and over. He finishes in the bathroom and takes off his jeans, swapping his sweater for an old ratty t-shirt he often used for bed.

It was just a joke.

Steve rolls over until he's facing the window, ignoring the tightness in his chest as he closes his eyes.

Maybe it would be funnier in the morning.

[stevebabey]

and on the final day on august (not where i am hehe) i bring you my fic for @thefreakandthehair summer fanwork challenge! my prompt was nightswimming, its steddie (duh) and she's a baby 2.2k piece <3

— hold my hand and tread the water

The water ebbs around his ankles gently and the ripples move across the lake surface like black slicks of ink, twinkles of moonlight catching on crests of the small waves.

Steve swallows thickly.

Why did he think this was a good idea?

It's not Lover's Lake. He knows it's not— he knows that Hawkins and all its crawling rot, through roots and beneath lakes, is miles away from him.

Steve knows that even with the gate closed, if something slipped by- somehow, he can't think of how- but it doesn't matter, if it did, it surely wouldn't be able to reach him here.

It looks an awful lot like Lover's Lake in the shadow of night.

Steve blinks harshly and curls his toes in the sand, grounding himself by burrowing his feet into the soil. The sound of lapping water was once a sound of comfort, connected to a bout of nostalgia — the sort of comfort that can only come with a routine of familiarity.

Swimming used to mean... it was the exhilaration of the dive. It was the pleasant burn in his muscles and the blaze deep in his lungs as he held his breath as long as possible, pushing the limit every time.

It was the gasp, the relief of breaking the surface, a moment of loud noise before he submerged once again, muted rushing water the only sound. It was the long and solid strokes that he carved through water with. Swimming always used to to make him feel strong.

And now... there's this new fear rooted within him.

But, hell, there's lots of things that the years of fighting and surviving the Upside Down had taken from him. Steve will be damned if he adds swimming to the list.

"—Steve?"

Eddie's voice is suddenly beside him, right in his ear, and Steve flinches, dragged abruptly from his wandering thoughts. He tears his eyes from the swirling lake surface to find the other man beside him, brown eyes searching with that glaze of concern. There's a furrow in his brows. Steve feels the warmth of his hand before it lands on his shoulder, tentative and wary.

"Are you okay?" Eddie asks quietly, like speaking any louder might spook Steve more. He has this tone to his voice, the one that Steve thinks might be reserved just for him. He hasn't heard Eddie use it on anyone else. His usual loud and raucous voice, so normally used for jeering and loud heckles, completely softened.

It softens Steve every time Eddie uses it.

"We don't gotta do this tonight, if you don't wanna."

"I want to."

The words rush up his throat and stick a little on the way out. Steve clears his throat and digs his feet further into the sand.

One of his hands creeps up his chest til his fingers brush against Eddie's own hand, still holding his shoulder. He meets Eddie's gaze for a moment before an intensity seizes his chest and that recognizable lurch in his heart forces his gaze away.

That lack of courage is new too. Though, that's one thing he can't seem to blame on the Upside Down.

"It's the last one." Steve murmurs, eyes back on the lake ahead of them. Faint crickets fill the orchestra of the night around them, an occasional frog tuning in with a ribbit! Something splashes in the distance.

It is the last one. The last fear to conquer to reclaim back that piece of himself. Through out their whole silly and impromptu road-trip, they've pushed that slimy fear further and further down in Steve. Burning it away, making it smaller, til Steve was feeling bigger and better. They started in a pool, in the daylight, Eddie's open palms and soothing eyes coaxing him back into the water.

Here is the end. The last one. A lake in the night time.

Steve can feel the fear curdling in his gut, the tenseness in his muscles, every single instinct that's kept him alive for the past five years screaming at him to not get in. He feels like a house of cards, ready to topple in the slightest breeze, just drinking in the sight before him. Eddie's hand on his shoulder might be the only thing keeping him steady.

He could leave, could avoid swimming during the nighttime, could retract into himself every time that sticky fear licked up his spine— bringing back memories of vines tight around his ankle, pulling, tugging, drowning him, and— Steve clears the memory with a violent twitch, muscles jumping in their tenseness.

He's so sick of being in survival mode.

Eddie's fingers on his shoulder flex, gifting a comforting squeeze. Steve can see the chipped black polish on them in his peripheral, bare of their usual rings, prepared to swim because Eddie always gets in with him. They always swim together. God, Steve's not sure what he'd do without him.

Steve swallows again, the stone is his throat budging this time as the want surges up deep in his chest; he wants to make some goddamn new memories too.

"Can you..." He murmurs, finally turning his head to peer at Eddie beside him.

"Of course," Eddie answers his unvoiced question easily, beginning to wade into the lake a little further.

The water sloshes around his ankles, climbing up his calves, and Steve's gaze drags up with it, lingering on Eddie's milky white thighs. There's another tattoo there, a sphinx-like character, curled up and stark in it's dark colour against his pale complexion.

Steve hadn't been able to hide his staring the first time they'd swum together — a tiny bright-tiled pool in a motel, one or two states back — completely entranced by the swirling ink and the bareness of Eddie's thighs.

Eddie had caught his gawking with a smug sort of grin and ribbed him for it, tugging the fabric of his swim shorts up higher to show off the full piece. Mercifully, he didn't point out the flush it brought onto Steve's cheeks. Steve had apologised, both for his staring and for doing it in one of the more improper places, but Eddie had only given that wicked beautiful smile.

"M'used to stares, Steve." He said, not nearly as bitter as Steve thinks he's entitled to be considering the man-hunt set on him. "You don't look at me like them."

Looking at the stretch of his thigh now, tattoo partially hidden away, Steve ponders Eddie's words to keep the itch of panic at the back of his neck away. What had Eddie meant? Just how he does look at him?

Some girls like long looks, like feeling eyes raking them up and down hungrily but most of them like skirting glances, always glancing away if they've caught Steve watching. Eager glances at thighs and down chests are certainly not encouraged. It's a game of back and forth. One can't be seen to be too eager, too ravenous.

Except for, Eddie seems the complete opposite. He catches Steve's keen gaze, he spots the staring and relishes in it — like Steve's attention is something is something divine and Eddie will drink in all he can get.

It doesn't feel like it's a prize the way it did in high school, girls vying for King Steve's attention. It feels... Eddie makes it feel like something to revere.

"C'mon, sweetheart." Eddie croons, beckoning Steve into the lake and away from his distracted thoughts. He's got his hand outstretched, palm up, calloused fingers relaxed and inviting Steve to hold them with his own.

He does. He's not sure when it became a thing, holding hands — probably sometime when they upgraded from pools to rivers and lakes — but Steve's grateful for it. Eddie's fingers blanch beneath the tight grip but if it pains Eddie, he makes no move to show it on his face.

Steve grips tighter. When Eddie drifts back a step, the dark water licking an inch higher on his legs, he lets himself be pulled along. Step by step. He keeps his eyes ahead, even as the other peers down into the dark water momentarily.

Eddie gasps and a jolt of fright fires off, deep in Steve's gut. He clutches Eddie's hand tighter and Eddie's head pops up, squeezing Steve's hand back.

"Fucking chilly, is all, okay? My balls are freezing, Jesus. H. Christ."

He does this silly little hop like it's going to help the chill of the night-time lake-water. It's a funny enough sight that Steve doesn't try to stifle his shaky laughter and some of his panic melts away with it. He still doesn't look down.

Eddie scrunches his nose up and then narrows his eyes at Steve. "You're laughing now."

Steve sticks out his tongue — and bites it harshly as the water sweeps up past his waist, submerging his swimming trunks and everything below. Fucking hell, it is cold. Eddie wasn't lying.

As far as each of their swims have been — there's been six altogether, or seven if you count the high bath they took together, which Steve doesn't — this one is going smoother than what he's come to expect. There's still that prickle down his spine, like ice ghosting atop his skin, but Steve can shake it in a shiver.

The water looms higher, swallowing the plains of his stomach and Steve can feel his neck craning up, trying to get taller. Still, he takes the next step. And the next.

Suddenly, there's a brush against his leg— scaly and mucky and he knows it's not what he imagines it to be but there's no clamping down the instinct built in. His heart slams in his chest and his practiced even slow breaths transform into rapid bursts, this dread clawing deep into his gut. Steve can feel his hackles rise, knows his hand must be twisting tighter and tighter in Eddie's grip.

It all shows as a minuscule reaction on his face. Steve knows because Robin told him once—regarded him with that crinkled look once when the panic attack had crept up on him during a shift, then uttered an oh shit! once she realised what was happening.

You're too good at that. She'd told once he'd managed to calm down, head between his knees in the employee room out the back.

What?

Good at hiding it. Robin said, nudging his shoulder. He can't tell from her tone it's a good or bad thing. Maybe, it's neither. You look so calm all the time, even when you're panicking.

Eddie's come to learn the signs too. The specific pinch in his eyebrows, the twitchiness of his lips.

"Woah, woah, hey, hey," He brings the two of them closer, no longer leading them out. Eddie's dark eyes dart across his face, a wrinkle in his brow as he tries to soothe. "Just a stupid fish, nothin' to worry about, you're good."

His hands travel as he speak, shaking off Steve's tight grip to slide up his tan arms. Steve's hands shoot out, desperate to hold something, to cling to something, his big hands enveloping Eddie's wrists as the other rubs gently at his biceps. Fingers curl around the tanned skin and beg Steve closer, beginning to sink down in the water as he does.

"C'mon, you're safe." He murmurs and Steve, hanging onto tight, sinks down with him. The water climbs higher, lapping at his collarbones. Steve clings tighter, clenching up in preparation. "S'just you, me, and the fishies."

"If you think that's all that's in here, you know even less about lakes than I thought," Steve grits out.

"Shit, really?" Eddie asks. Then after another moment, "You think there's crocs in here?"

"You didn't even check?"

Eddie's grin rivals the moonlight, cheeky and delighted. "Course I did," Then he scoffs dramatically, tossing his head back. Some of his hair hits the water with a splash. "Can't believe you don't trust me at all, after all this time together."

A sly smile fights to reach Steve's face; he lets it win. His panic isn't dissolved completely, just lingering in the back— but it's been beat out by his interest in conversation with Eddie, in the strange flirt they keep seeming to do.

"I don't have any trust in you at all since you picked Motel Evergreen and—"

His words get smushed beneath Eddie's palm, warm and soft against his mouth, as the other boy narrows his eyes. "Shut your pretty mouth, Steve. You promised you wouldn't bring that up again."

Even as he threatens, Eddie's eyes light with a mirth and there's that glorious grin on his face and oh god, Steve wants to kiss him.

Like a vacuum, the panic sucks out of him in a single moment as the tide turns and his nerves turn to that. Fuck. Eddie's hand slips from his face, nervous he's gotten too close, too touchy. And, well, Steve's always been one to wear his heart on his sleeve, so he says;

"Make me."

Something glitters across Eddie's face, a bewilderment dipped with glee. For a moment, his expression shutters as he tries to comprehend what's been said. What's been offered.

He lands on an astute, "What?"

Steve sinks into the lake and kicks off the bottom, water swishing as he starts to tread water. His feet kick and he has half a mind to spray Eddie with a face full of icy lake water but he's got that doe-eyed exuberance that Steve adores, like he's daring to let himself believe what Steve's saying.

So, instead Steve holds his hand out. He treads the water and says, "I said, make me."

Eddie doesn't waste another second.

[piratefishmama]

For the longest time, Steve thinks the Hellfire Club is a sex thing.

It started with a club promotion poster that Eddie and his minions made during Eddie's sophomore year citing roleplaying, fantasy fun, and 'dressing up', plus the graphics werent the best because Eddie spent too much time making the big skull head as big as it could be and didnt have room for the mace and sword to look like a mace and sword, kind of like when you write Happy Birthday on a banner but go really big on the H and the A and run out of space straight away.

So the mace kind of looked like a whip and the sword looked a little like a riding crop and how they got it by Principal higgins was anyones guess but it was suspicious and continued to be suspicious every time a new poster came out at the start of each year because Eddie just kept running the original through a copier, changing only the sign up dates.

Anyway Steve having a minor internal crisis when the kids claim to have joined the notorious definitely a sex thing, 'Hellfire Club'.

[yabakuboi]

Steve notices when Eddie disappears from the party, almost immediately. Robin and the others are crossfaded and a little weepy, and Steve knows they're excited—and scared. They're all heading out next week, Robin to Chicago, Nancy to New York, Jonathan to California. So they didn't notice it, when Eddie got up for the bathroom and didn't come back.

Steve did. Steve's pretty good at recognizing stuff like that, especially when it's painfully familiar.

He's pretty loud when he crawls through his own bedroom window out onto the roof, loud enough that Eddie startles and drops his cigarette onto the asphalt shingles.

"H-Hey!" he says, all false cheer despite the croak in his voice and the sniffling—the way he wipes quickly at his face.

"Hey," Steve says, going for softness and compassion. God knows he's spent many a night out here crying by himself. He doesn't want Eddie to think he's being a dick about it. "You okay?"

"Yep!" Eddie says, pitched too high and the words crack between his lips. "Totally fine! I'll come down in a bit so—"

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Eddie's teeth clack together when he shuts his mouth, falling into silence as Steve settles down at his side. Neither of them say anything. Faintly, they can hear the murmur of their friends' voices, mixed with the summer night call of forest frogs and bugs. Steve thinks about chasing fireflies in the back yard when he was little, how the dark woods are near impenetrable to Steve now, the boyhood security long stripped from him.

Beside him, Eddie wipes at his face again, his elbow brushing Steve's arm because Steve's sat himself so close. Steve, carefully not thinking about it, leans over—further and further—until his head hits Eddie's shoulder.

The sound Eddie makes is soft and broken, so Steve tucks himself even closer into Eddie's side, arm going around his back, and closes his eyes just so he could overwhelm himself with the warmth radiating from Eddie, the smell of soap and sweat and weed, the feel of Eddie's hair on his head when Eddie bows his head as he cries, hair long and curtaining the two of them—Eddie keeping Steve, pulling him in to witness his private grief.

[dreamofbecoming]

part two, this one is still mostly stobin and pre-steddie. the first part does provide some context, although i imagine you could figure most of it out yourself, but i'd recommend reading it first anyway!

ao3

part 1

platonic stobin, mentions of steddie

rating: t

wc: 3k

---

The conversation dies down and Steve goes back to filling bottles to hand off to Robin, eyes on Dustin where he's still goofing off with Munson. Good, he should get to have as much fun as he can. This is what he should be doing. What they should all be doing. Steve hates that these kids have to be fucking…soldiers so much of the time. He hates that he can't do anything to shield them from it. Not that they'd let him if he could.

Maybe Robbie has a point, about regular teenage life stuff being pointless right now, but god, what the fuck? Why should it have to be? He's 19! He can't even buy a drink yet! Robin is still in high school!

Fuck it. They should get to be kids and think about stupid pointless stuff, too.

"So I know you said you didn't want to talk about your love life, which is fair, but if I keep thinking about dying I'm gonna lose my shit, so you wanna talk about mine?"

She raises an eyebrow at him. "Oh, are we talking about how fucking weird shit has been between you and Nancy?"

Ah, fuck, that backfired almost immediately.

"What? No. Definitely not. Ok, it's been weird, but it's not a thing, ok?" She looks even more skeptical than before. "It's not! I mean, ok, maybe it is," she snorts at him, which. Rude. "But it's just like. Regular weirdness, ok?"

"What the fuck is regular weirdness?"

"You know, like, exes who haven't talked in a while in a high-pressure situation weirdness. The kind of weirdness anyone would be having in our shoes. Normal weirdness!" He throws his hands in the air, agitated.

Munson looks over at the sound of his raised voice, lifting an eyebrow and smirking. What is it with everyone raising their eyebrows at him today? He's being normal! Normal and regular! It's not his fault everything around them is weird and that makes his normal look weird by comparison. He's not doing anything wrong, so get off his nuts already! Geez!

Steve isn't sure how much of that very normal and regular monologue shows on his face, but it must be some because he can see Munson laughing at him as he goes back to playing keepaway with Dustin's hat. Bastard.

"Ugh! No, I don't want to talk about Nance. Like I really super don't. There's nothing there, it's done, it's over, there's nothing to say."

"Yeah, I wouldn't want to talk about that debacle in the bus either. Six kids, Steve? Really?" Oh Jesus. He was really hoping no one had heard that.

"Bobbie, please, why are you torturing me?" He rarely deploys the Sad Eyes on Robin, mostly because they don't work especially well on her, which is insane, because they work like an atom bomb on literally everyone else. He may have left King Steve behind him, but he has plenty of skills left over from those days, not to mention he looks as good as he always has. He knows what he's working with, ok?

Anyways, this is a moment to pull out the big guns, which means Sad Eyes are a go.

As usual, they aren't as effective on Robbie as they are on other people, but she does know him well enough to realize that if he's pulling them out, it's out of desperation, so she takes pity on him anyway. Whatever. He'll take the win.

She sighs, and rolls her eyes indulgently, but she's smiling just a little. He can tell. God, he loves her. He'd burn the world down for her, is maybe going to have to. He doesn't know what he'd do without her.

"Alright, bubba, I'll bite. You want to talk about your love life, but you don't want to talk about Nancy. Whatcha got for me?"

And, oh. Shit. This is the part where he's going to have to say it out loud. He hadn't planned this far, mostly was just anxious to get the swirling feeling in his chest out into Robbie's hands because he knows she can keep it safe, mostly just trying to wipe that awful, scared, defeated look off her face, but now he has to actually do the thing. He has to say it out loud, on purpose, the way he hasn't since that day in her bedroom when his whole world shifted a little to the left, and she was the only thing holding him steady.

Fuck. Ok. He can do this. It's just Rob. No one else is close enough to hear them, and Robin will always keep him safe. She'll never let him be alone.

"So, uh. You know the, uh, the thing? That we talked about that one time?"

"Yeah, we talk every day, I'm gonna need a bit more than that, bubs."

"The, uh. The thing we decided we didn't have to talk about right away? Because it wasn't important? Or, no, it was important, but it wasn't, um. What did you say? Relevant. It wasn't relevant to my everyday life?"

"Relevant to your…oh! Oh shit! The thing! The thing we talked about! That thing!" Her eyes are wide and so so blue and her hands are flailing a little, like she wants to pat him down for injury even though that's not remotely helpful. He carefully takes the bottle out of her hand and stuffs the rag into it himself, setting it on the ground where she can't dump gasoline on herself. She smiles a little sheepishly.

"So what about the, uh, the thing?" She lowers her voice like she's in a goddamn spy movie, leaning close and waggling her eyebrows. She's so ridiculous. He loves her so much.

He gives her a pointed look. She shakes her head in response, looking confused. Jesus fuck, she's gonna make him say it.

He tries one more time, bobbing his head at her to try and make his facial expression more forceful. He doesn't miss his old crowd, really, he doesn't. He does, however, occasionally miss being around people who were constantly alert for even the smallest social shifts, who he could have a whole conversation with using nothing but subtle changes to the shape of his mouth or the width of his eyes. He loves Robin and Dustin more than life, would kill or die for them, has proven it several times over, but Christ on a cracker they wouldn't know a social cue if it whacked them in the head with a hammer.

She's still furrowing her brow at him, so he sighs, and gives in. "I think it's maybe become…relevant. I promised to tell you right away, remember?"

Her eyes go even wider than before, and she thwaps him in the chest with the back of her hand. Hard. Ow.

"Dingus!" She's whisper-shouting, but he still doesn't think anyone is close enough to hear. "What the hell!"

"Ow, Robbie, Jesus, watch the open wounds!"

She flutters her hands around his middle, like she can fix his bandages through his jacket. She does look apologetic, so that's something.

"Sorry, sorry, fuck, sorry! Are you ok? Sorry. Just, what the hell! What? Who? When?!"

He smirks at her. "What, no why or how?"

"I'm going to set you on fire with one of these cocktails if you don't start talking, Dingus, I swear to god!"

He's laughing, she's so much fun to rile up. God, he hopes he doesn't have to miss this. He hopes he gets to keep this much, at least, when they're done. He'll probably go crazy otherwise.

"Ok, ok, I won't tease, I'm sorry. So I guess, to answer your questions, uh…I found a boy to crush on, who the hell do you think, and I promised to tell you right away, didn't I?" He counts them down on his fingers while he answers them, because if he can't act like a little shit to her then honestly, what is even the point?

"Right away…holy shit. Holy shit! Steve!" She looks frantically out at the field, where Munson has now knocked Henderson over and is sitting on him, wearing his hat and crowing victory, while Dustin flails wildly on the ground. Thank fuck neither of them are looking this way, because holy hell she isn't subtle.

"Robbie, don't look, what the hell! Do you want him to know we're talking about him?"

"Oh, so we are talking about him? Eddie "The Freak" Munson?"

He cringes a little at the reminder of his earlier dismissal. "Alright, ok, so I maybe didn't give him much of a chance at first, but the Upside Down changes things, you know that! It did for us, right?"

She looks thoughtful. "I guess, yeah. So go on, loverboy, what do you like about him?" She's grinning and waggling her eyebrows again. Ugh, this may have been a mistake. She does owe him for the Tammy Thompson thing. Still, there's no one alive he'd rather talk about this with, and he has to talk to someone, or he's going to explode, and they have a…wizard…demon…thing…guy to kill. Whatever. They have killing to do, so he needs to get this off his chest so it's not clogging up his brain.

"He has…really nice eyes. And really nice hands." Robin lets out a soft "Oh, ew," before he glares at her and she motions for him to go on. "He's funny, and weird but in like, a charming way? Kind of like you, but different. The way Dustin is weird and charming like you, but different, you know?"

"You have a thing for nerds, Dingus."

"Ugh, maybe, yeah." His mind drifts back to Eddi- Munson. Gotta keep calling him Munson, at least until they get out of this. Can't afford to be distracted. "He's scared out of his mind, but he's coming along anyway, which is the kind of brave and stupid this whole group kind of runs on. He thinks he's a coward but he's not. Going back to school instead of dropping out is brave. Trusting us is brave. Acting like he does even when everyone hates him for it is brave. I wish I had been brave enough to do that, you know? Maybe I would have dropped the King shit earlier. And he's good with the kids, which you know I'm weak for. I don't know, Robs, I just…I want him to like me, you know? I want him to be impressed by me. Is that stupid?"

When he looks up, Robin's eyes are wide and shiny. She looks surprised, and a little scared. That's not good, probably, but he can't take back anything he said. He meant all of it.

"It's not stupid, bubba, it's not stupid at all. I guess I was thinking…I don't know. That it was like an adrenaline thing? Like a 'you're hot, we're in danger, I'd rather think about making out with you than dying' kind of thing? Like what Nancy was clearly doing with you earlier, you know?"

"Ugh, Robbie, I so don't want to talk about Nancy right now, please," he groans.

"Yeah yeah, I know, whatever. I just mean, it doesn't really sound like that's what's going on with you, for Eddie, right now. It kinda sounds like you, you know, like like him."

"Like like him? What are we, 12?"

"You know what I mean, Dingus, it just sounds like there are actual feelings here, not just sexy thoughts."

He shifts a little on his stool, feeling kind of exposed, but it's ok. It's just Robin. "I mean, yeah, I guess I kinda do? Have feelings. Or maybe I will? I'm kind of trying to hold them off, I guess, until we get out of here, you know? I barely know the guy, honestly, but also every time this happens I end up bonded for life to someone new, so why not him this time? I mean, the first time with the demogorgon even got me and Nancy back together, and we were like, donezo, for real, after that thing Tommy did to The Hawk. This shit is better than superglue, you know?"

Robin barks out a laugh. She squares her shoulders and puts on her best announcer voice. "Do you have trouble making friends? Looking to join a new crowd, but can't find a way in? Try Hell Beasts! Our near-death experience package will create lasting trauma that will bind you together forever! There's no escape now!"

The two of them collapse into giggles, drawing the eyes of several their friends scattered around the field.

When she composes herself, Robin gives him a soft smile. It's one of his favorites. Almost no one ever sees it but him, and not very often. "Well, I guess we had better all make it out of this in one piece, then, huh? So we can do all our sad gay pining together."

"I dunno, I think maybe I have a shot," he says thoughtfully, eyeing Edd- no, stop it, Munson, where he's flopped on the grass next to Dustin, chatting happily.

Robin boggles at him. "What the fuck do you mean, a shot? Are you- oh god, are you just gonna tell him? Steve!"

"Wh- Not right away or anything! And not for sure! I have to figure out if he's flagging on purpose first!"

"If he's whatting on what?"

"Oh come on, you remember that one zine that talked about the, uh. The whats it. The code! The hanky code, that was it!" He snaps his fingers in victory, triumphant.

She's still looking at him like he's grown a second head though, so maybe not.

"I don't know, maybe you skipped that one? From what I could tell it was more about men anyway. I think they mentioned that ladies use, uh, caribou. The clip things, you know?"

"Caribeeners? Dingus what the hell are you talking about?"

"It's this thing, right? That like, gay people, gay men, I guess, use to like, signal each other, kind of. It's basically like, you wear a hanky in your pocket, and what color it is and what pattern is printed on it and which pocket you wear it in tells people what kind of sex you like."

Robin looks even more shocked, if that's possible. "What does that even mean, what kind of sex you like?"

Oh, right. Lesbian virgin. Fair enough. "Like, do you like to uh. Give, if you know what I mean. Or receive. Do you like blowjobs, or handjobs, or like. I dunno, weird stuff. Like spit or whatever."

She's waving her hands frantically, her face screwed up. "Ahhhh lalalala that's enough! That's plenty of information, thank you!" He holds up his hands in surrender. She asked.

"Anyway, what does all of...that...have to do with you having a shot with," she switches back to her not-at-all-subtle stage whisper, "Eddie?"

"Haven't you noticed he's had that bandana in his pocket the whole time?" She whips her head around so fast he's surprised he doesn't hear her neck crack. Jesus, Robin.

"Would you chill out? You're going to make him look over here and then I'll have to let Vecna eat me because there's no way I'll survive the humiliation if he hears us, Robin!"

She glares at him. "Don't even joke about that, Dingus. You're making it out alive or I'll kill you myself."

He knows he's smiling adoringly at her, and if Henderson is looking he's never, ever beating those "in love with Robin" allegations, but whatever. "Noted, Buckley."

"So, what, you think he might be...like us? 'Cause of the bandana?"

"I mean, maybe, yeah? I might be crazy, but I also feel like he was definitely flirting with me earlier. Like in the Upside Down, and also at the trailer, you know?"

"Now that I think about it, that "Big Boy" thing was super weird. I figured it was just Eddie being Eddie, they call him The Freak for a reason, right? But I guess that could have been called flirting."

"Right? That's what I thought! And when we were down there, he was like, all up in my space, and he gave me his vest, and he seemed annoyed when I talked to Nance, even though he was trying to push me back to her. Which was insane, I didn't tell you this part Robs, oh my god. I was fully staring at his lips, just laser focused, like I would be on a girl I want to kiss, right? And he won't stop telling me how Nancy is definitely still in love with me and I should get her back! What the hell! Who does that? So I don't know," he sighs, feeling a little lost. "Maybe he isn't into me after all. But I have to at least check, right?"

"I mean, I don't think I'm the right person to ask about that, bubba, but if it goes sideways, I'll burn his house down if you want." She wiggles a molotov cocktail at him, grinning.

"Jesus, Bobbin, alright. Let's, uh. Let's call that Plan B, yeah?"

"Roger that, captain!" She gives him a stupid little salute, and for a moment he's back at Scoops, before everything went shit-shaped, but she's still his Robin, and they're safe and alive and nothing hurts.

And then he blinks again and he's sitting on an overturned bucket in front of a stolen RV, making molotov cocktails with his soulmate, watching his baby brother and the guy he might maybe sort of have a crush on tussle in the grass, hoping against hope they all live to see morning.

He picks up another bottle.

part 3

[eddie4bat-president]

Comedy of errors Steve Eddie and Robin are roommates and somehow both Eddie and Robin still think Steve is straight - Steve thinks he came out to them ages ago (They might have all been drunk. He might have said something like that he's realizing he likes babes of all kinds, babes with boobies and babes without boobies. They think he's waxing poetic about his own character growth because he appreciates flat girls now and make such fun of him. Steve is glad they're not making a big deal about it, and ribbing is their love language, but he's maybe a little disappointed at having gotten such a non-reaction from Eddie)

Anyway both Eddie and Robin quietly think they know way too much about the other's sex toy preference because Steve keeps leaving them in the bathroom after cleaning them up.

[starryeyedjanai]

Fake title ask!

I’m A Dirt Road

bestie, I did not mean to write 1.3k about this. But it happened anyway, so here you go:

I'm a dirt road

The government uses NINA to wipe everyone’s memories of the last few years and replace their memories of the Upside Down with mundane events where the party and the older teenagers don’t really know each other outside of school. And Steve and Robin are the ones who help bring them all together.

Because after a couple months, Steve starts having dreams. Weird dreams and nightmares that feel real. He’s waking up with feelings in his chest that don't make sense, for people that he doesn't remember. He’s grasping at straws, trying to piece together what the hell is happening to him and he runs into Robin, who’s only a few weeks out from her starting her freshman year of college. And he feels like he knows her.

She brushes him aside because she only knows him as King Steve who lost his crown after being hit in the head too many times, so of course she doesn't believe him when he says they know each other.

But after she brushes him aside and sees his shoulders slump, she feels it deep in her chest that something is off about this situation. She watches him walk away and instinctively calls out, “Hey, dingus?” and when he turns around all perked up, she knows something weird is going on. She knows him. Somehow, she knows him and forgot.

So they hunker down and try to piece together what they can and turns out, she’s been having dreams too, but she just thought they were pre-college nightmares. But they’re the same ones Steve has, of this dark, cold place that has a, “Red sky,” they both say at the same time. It’s so weird.

“There are others,” Steve says, sure of it. There have to be. "I feel like we’re missing a group of people. And-" he cuts himself off.

“What is it?” Robin asks, the tight feeling in her chest returning, because she feels like she knows what he’s going to say.

“I feel like I should be mourning someone,” Steve says, running a hand down his face. “We lost someone. And I don't remember who.”

Robin feels it too. She feels like there’s a weight in her chest that shouldn't be there. She’s felt it since she woke up in March with a killer headache and missed school for a couple days because of it. She didn't know what to call the feeling, but she knows now that it’s grief.

Anyway, they find Dustin wandering around skull rock and ask him what he’s doing there and he tells them about the dreams he’s been having and surprise, surprise. Same dreams! And Dustin found a partially destroyed polaroid in his bedroom after tearing the place apart trying to make sense of what he was feeling and it was of him, Mike Wheeler, Lucas Sinclair, and some kid Dustin doesn't know dressed up for Halloween and he didn't remember taking that picture.

So he knew something was up, so he went looking in the place where it feels like something important happened. So with Dustin’s help they rally together Mike, Nancy, Lucas, and Erica, who insists she has to be a part of this after eavesdropping on the conversation.

It still feels like they’re missing a bunch of people and Dustin figures it has something to do with the kid whose name none of them can remember. They scour through old yearbooks and pictures, but can’t find anything, not even a name.

It’s Steve who runs into Hopper, who’s a mess, drinking and angry all the time again. They bump into each other and they both stop short and Steve takes a leap of faith and pulls Hopper into a tight hug and Hopper crumbles, falls apart. He tells Hopper about the group - the party, he says and doesn't know why - and their dreams, says he has a feeling Hopper has been having dreams too.

And Hopper has, because he’s lost two daughters now. And he can feel it, in his heart, that she’s out there somewhere, but it doesn't make sense. His only daughter is gone. He didn't have another, right?

They work with Hopper to track down the kid in the photo and Hopper finds a police record of a domestic disturbance that he doesn't remember happening involving a 'Joyce Byers' and he knows it’s them, the Byers family, they’re involved in this too. So he tracks them down in California somehow and convinces them to come to Hawkins, a town Joyce insists they’ve never been to.

But she also feels it, and her kids feel it, that something isn’t right, so when a sheriff from some random town in Indiana calls her and tells her he has a police record of her family in Hawkins, she believes him somehow.

So they make it to Hawkins and the reunion is tearful, even though Joyce is sure she’s never met these people. El, no, Jane - why did she think of her as El? - and Hopper hug each other and everyone is teary eyed about it for some reason.

It’s the kids who unlock some memory in El, Jane, and she’s convinced she has some kind of power, some kind of something that can fix this. She can take them to the place where they need to be, she’s sure of it.

So she leads the way, takes them to the place where he died, Steve realizes. It’s where he died, whoever it is that’s carved a gaping hole in his chest, in all of their chests.

There’s still debris from the earthquake that happened a few months ago here. But she leads them to a crack in the ground. It’s red and pulsing and alive.

And none of them know what the fuck is going on, and this isn't normal, but it validates every one of their fears that they’re not all just making shit up, some group psychosis or something.

Steve is relieved to see it, weirdly enough. Because something in him is telling him that the person who they thought died here didn't.

So maybe it takes months of Jane, El, practicing honing her powers, maybe Robin and Nancy reluctantly go to college and the kids go back to school, Will and El enrolling in Hawkins High.

Maybe Hopper finds a house that was abandoned after the quake for Joyce, Jonathan, Will, and El to live in. It’s a little worse for wear, but the banks aren’t running to collect a mortgage on it right now at least. And Will finds a drawing on the wall in his bedroom after they move in. It’s one he drew. How is it one he drew?

There are so many unanswered questions and Steve is going out of his mind waiting, waiting, waiting for Jane or El or whoever she is to be ready for whatever it is she’s preparing for.

He keeps visiting the place where it happened. He doesn't know why because he knows whoever the guy who died, or didn't die, was- he doesn't think they were very close. But he remembers feeling terrified and still being able to laugh with him, he remembers the ache in his heart later. He doesn't remember his face, but he remembers blood. He remembers telling him not to be a hero and remembers being angry at him for not listening.

He remembers, but not enough.

And when the time finally comes, months later, when El channels her powers and the crack in the ground splits open more, when Steve insists he’ll be okay if he drops into it, he finally sees him again.

He’s crossed over into this place, the place from their dreams, cold and red, but it’s like taking a breath of air so cold he’s choking on it. He walks down the path, down the road, looking.

He finds him.

Perched on top of a van, picking notes on a guitar, is him.

Steve’s shoes sound loud on the gravel beneath his feet and Eddie’s head whips around toward him when he hears him coming.

He smiles.

“I was wondering when you’d find me.”