#steddie slow burn

[flaringgoosebumps]

Bylers who also ship Steddie, y'all should check out this fic

It is the cutest Steddie slow burn with canon Byler scenes woven into it! I can not begin to tell y'all how much I adore this fic, please check it out💕

[fandsart]

Where the 20 Chain Links Lead

On Ao3: Chapter 3 [full chapter]

[Chapter 1]  [Chapter 2]  [Chapter 3.1]  [Chapter 3.2]  [Chapter 4]

Chapter 3.2: The Fluctuations of Bonds and the Events of 1984

The kids are all insisting they can help if they make it into some power hub in the tunnels that are being mapped throughout the house. Steve insists they’re not going anywhere; they’re going to stay safe. He’s waiting for them to agree when a loud car pulls up.

“It’s my brother,” the girl- shit, was it Mags? Or Max? Can that even be a girl’s name? She says that. “He can’t know I’m here. He’ll kill me. He’ll kill us.” Steve isn’t entirely sure how much she might be exaggerating, but he can tell from her tone that she isn’t messing around—that she’s serious, even if she might not be speaking literally. Steve hopes she isn’t.

“Stay down,” he tells them, as he exits the house. He’s surprised to find Billy exiting the car. Billy is Mags’ brother. What are the odds? Billy was the new kid though, and Mags was new to the group, so it checked out.

“Am I dreaming, or is that you Harrington,” Billy says.

“Yeah, it’s me. Don’t cream your pants.”

“What are you doing here, amigo?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” he says as he moves forward, standing mere feet away from him now. “Amigo.”

“Looking for my stepsister. A little birdie told me she was here.”

“Huh, that’s weird. I don’t know her.”

“Small? Redhead? Bit of a bitch?”

He tries to convince him she’s not there, but his efforts are wasted when Billy spots her in the window. A few punches are thrown and Steve gives him one last warning.

“Get out.”

“No one. Tells me what to do.” Steve’s on the floor now, Billy crouching over him, pummeling his face in.

↞⬡+¤+⬡↠

The next thing Steve knows he’s waking up in the back of a car. He thinks. He thinks he hears an engine over his ringing ears, and he feels like he’s moving, but maybe he’s just dizzy. Turns out he is moving. He’s in a car being driven by a middle schooler. He starts freaking out, and now everyone is freaking out, but they make it to the destination, hitting only one mailbox.

The destination is, unsurprisingly and annoyingly, not meant to just be an escape from Billy. The kids are insistent that they help how they can, and Steve knows the only way to protect them at this point is to join them in the tunnels.

They use a makeshift crayon map to figure out the way to the sensitive power hub from the entrance Hopper previously dug. They find the hub and make their way back through the tunnels. 

↞⬡+¤+⬡↠

They’re nearing the entrance when the entire tunnels shake, knocking Steve and some of the others off their feet. They’re running again, which they’d stopped doing after leaving Dart behind.

“Come on! Come on!” Steve rallies as he moves to boost the kids out through the hole. Dustin is the only one left when the screeches draw near. He grabs the bat and jumps in front of him. They’re all racing through the tunnel, towards them, and Steve has the bat at the ready.

And they all run around the two.

“Eleven,” he hears Mike realize from above the tunnel.

↞⬡+¤+⬡↠

He goes to drop all the kids off at their respective homes, but is met by protests that they have to go check on Will. He supposes that’s fair, but god does he just want the night to be over with. He wants to go to sleep.

“Steve!” he hears someone yell and jolts awake and… yeah that’s bad. He pulls the car over and looks—almost guiltingly pleading—to Mags, sitting at the passengers side. She seems to understand, sympathetically. They both switch seats, moving around the car, without a word. He’s not sure if no one truly breathes a word for the rest of the ride, but he doesn’t hear any. He’s not sure how much of it he’s awake for, drifting in and out as he tries to stay awake.

Mags drives them back to the Byers’ and they’re all clamoring around Hopper, all talking at once.

“Alright, alright alright!” he settles them down. “Listen. Will is in the hospital right now. Visiting hours won’t be open until morning, so you should all just go home. We’ll keep you posted, but as far as we can tell there’s no reason for him to not be fine.”

“Oh that’s great,” Mike says in an oddly condescending way. “Now how about you actually listen to what we were just trying to tell you and have Steve meet up with Will at the hospital.” Steve’s head whips—which turns out to be a bad idea, as a stabbing pain shoots through it—over to the group when he hears this.

“Visiting hours aren’t-” he starts exhausted before looking over at Steve cutting himself off. “Oh shit- What the hell happened?” He turns back to the kids. “Where have you all been?” he asks, as if it just occurred to him that they should have been back once he returned. And yeah, long night.

“Billy beat the shit out of him?” Dustin answers his first question exclusively.

“Billy- Who?”

The kids all start filling in the story, barely keeping their words from spilling over each other.

“My brother. He came to get me.”

“But then he attacked me and Steve stepped in.”

“I think he might have a concussion.”

Hopper marches up to Steve and he instinctively takes half a step back. Hopper shines his police mandated flashlight at his face. Steve sputters trying to turn his head, but Hopper keeps it in place, simultaneously holding one of his eyes open.

“Yeah, that doesn’t look good.” He lowers the flashlight and releases Steve from his grip. Steve stumbles. “That really doesn’t look good.”

“I’m… I’m fine,” Steve tries to reassure.

“Oh- Bullshit!” Dustin calls him out.

“Mike, your sister is in the other room.” Hopper informs. “You’ll be heading home with her. Your parents have already been contacted. Everyone else. Get in the truck! I’ll be taking you home.”

“Steve goes to the hospital first,” Dustin demands.

“Yeah, kid, obviously.”

Steve finds Hopper’s hand on his shoulder, now leading him out the door. The kids scramble ahead of them to get into the back seats. Eleven is already sitting in the passenger seat, but scrambles to the back when she sees them nearing. He hears some of the kids exclaim her name as they join her in the back. Hopper guides him into the passenger seat, which he doesn’t think he needs, but silently appreciates anyway.

↞⬡+¤+⬡↠

They get to the hospital and Hopper only enters the building to tell the woman at the front desk to get Joyce essentially hand Steve over to her. He then leaves, presumably to drop all the kids off at their homes. Steve sinks into one of the chairs as he waits to be collected by Ms. Byers.

“Name?” the woman asks him.

“Steve Harrington.”

She types into their system.

“Would that be ‘Steven Harrington?’”

“Yes.”

She heads back, presumably to get Ms. Byers. His expectations are subverted when Mr. Newby enters the room. “Joyce didn’t want to leave Will,” he explains, apologetically.

“Yeah, that makes sense.”

“They’ll probably call you back any minute.”

It takes barely minutes after those words are spoken. It must be a slow night. He’s questioned about the effects of the injuries. He tells them that he passed out for a decent but unknown amount of time, that his ears were still—just barely—ringing, that he almost fell asleep at the wheel earlier, that his balance has been off slightly, but that he hasn’t vomited. Half of these are asked, but he provides the other half himself.

“The doctor will be with you shortly,” the nurse says, leaving.

“I knew I should have stayed at the house,” Bob says.

“Huh?”

“I considered leaving the car when Nancy got in. I didn’t realize she was supposed to be coming. I thought ‘maybe I don’t need to be here.’ I mean, I know Will’s friends tend to be trouble-seekers. I thought ‘maybe I should stay behind and watch them. This car is crowded as it is.’ Then I didn’t.”

“Yeah, I don’t think you being there would have made much of a difference.”

“Still. I just seem to keep messing up lately. I think I’m the reason Will got, I don’t know, possessed?”

“How?” Steve asks. He means for it to be rhetorical. He doesn’t expect there to be an actual explanation.

“He told me about this recurring nightmare. I told him that he should stop running from it, the thing in the nightmare. That he should stand up to it, that it would help.” He chuckles darkly. “Wasn’t a nightmare.”

“Well… you couldn’t have known that, man.”

The doctor comes in and gives Steve some tests. She tells them that as long as he’s monitored he should be fine, and sends them out the door. Apparently Mr. Newby is the only one in town who doesn’t know where the Harrington house is, because he’s been living in Maine since he graduated high school. So Steve has to direct him on where to go.

They get turned around a few times and as Steve gets frustrated, Mr. Newby just reassures him that the confusion only arrived with the concussion, but they’d get there eventually. And they do.

“Are your parents here?” Mr. Newby asks, squinting around, looking for a car that isn’t there.

Steve shrugs. “Probably not.” He opens the door a crack before Mr. Newby interrupts him.

“You need to be monitored. I can’t just drop you off. Is there somewhere else I can take you? Where someone you know can keep an eye on you?” He looks so goddamned concerned it’s almost annoying. “I’d send you to Joyce, but she’s staying with Will overnight, and- Oh actually. Jonathan’s at the Byers’ house. I could drop you off with him. Would that be good?”

“That’s fine.” He doesn’t really want to see Jonathan right now, but it’s better than nothing he supposes. He knows him well enough. He trusts Nancy, and Nancy has grown to trust Jonathan despite what he did. And he’ll take any excuse to finally go to sleep.

Mr. Newby asks to use Steve’s landline to inform Jonathan of the situation. Jonathan apparently agrees, because next thing he knows, he’s being driven back to the Byers’ house. They get there and Jonathan’s waiting on the porch for them.

“You know,” Steve says before getting out, “if Ms. Byers wanted you to help out with her kid who was having problems, she should have told you what those problems were.” He’d been thinking of the wording the entire way over because stupid concussion making his stupid brain even stupider. But he thinks that makes sense. Mr. Newby doesn’t respond, so he continues. Though these words come out sloppy, unrehearsed. “And you know… now you’ll be better at… you’ll know how to help better now.” God, that was terrible. He opens the door to leave, and hears a ‘Thanks’ just before he closes the door.

↞⬡+¤+⬡↠

Jonathan turns out to be a good choice for keeping an eye on him because he ‘won’t be going to sleep any time soon.’ Though Jonathan might not even be entirely necessary, because Steve keeps waking up every half an hour. He falls asleep to dreams of the tunnels. The hoard of Demo-dogs rushing at him and Dustin, but this time they don’t run past. He jolts awake—or he thinks he does, but it still kind of feels like a dream—and Jonathan calms him down. He’s so tired it never takes long to get him back to sleep.

The fifth time he wakes up he’s only been trying to sleep for 4 hours. Jonathan holds his hand this time. He doesn’t let go even after he falls asleep, and the nightmares still come, but he stays asleep. He’s not sure why it helps him. It definitely doesn’t have anything to do with Jonathan as a person. The Demo-dogs running at them seem slower, and Steve remembers what happens this time. They go around, and Jonathan wakes him up two hours later.

“You shake even when you’re asleep,” Jonathan says. “It’s kind of scary.”

“Sleeping is kind of scary right now.”

↞⬡+¤+⬡↠

In the morning—well, it’s almost 1:00 PM by now—Jonathan toasts pop tarts and… Steve isn’t entirely sure he’s actually had those before. He’s pretty sure his school serves them for breakfast, but he’s only had school lunches. His parents like him to have ‘actual’ food whenever possible, so he’s never had the cheap school breakfasts.

“Sorry, I don’t have the energy to really make anything,” he says, plopping a paper place with two warm poptarts on top.

“I wouldn’t either,” Steve says, pulling apart one of the poptarts. It’s gooier than he expects. “Shit. It’s Monday.”

“Hopper already called us out of school. You, me, and Will.” Joyce and Will haven’t returned from the hospital so Steve isn’t surprised that Jonathan is as jittery as he is, leg bouncing. “So, you and Nancy broke up? Right?” Steve lets out a light breath. So Nancy did make her choice.

“Yeah.”

“Ok. That’s what she told me.”

“I take it you guys are together now. That’s not all that surprising, I guess.”

Jonathan just gives him a guilty look. “Yeah, but I feel like we went really fast. We, uh… we kind of slept together the other night.” Steve lets his eyes drift from Jonathan’s, losing the energy to keep it up.

“Which other night?”

“The night before last night.”

“Ok… We were already over then.”

“Yeah, but I don’t want to- I mean, I can back off.”

“You make each other happy?”

“I… I think so.”

“Then just… do what you want. Just keep your distances.” He gulps. “From me, I mean.”

“Are you sure?”

“If you were anyone else, I’d think you were a rebound, but… this feels like it was a long time coming. So no, I wouldn’t say you’re going too fast.” Jonathan doesn’t say anything else; just looks at him sadly. 

Steve thinks it makes sense that she would get with him. They went through a lot last year, and recently, now. Besides, Jonathan’s pretty cute. Objectively. In a weird, sad stray dog sort of way. If he got a better haircut.

↞⬡+¤+⬡↠

When Ms. Byers gets home and sees Steve’s state, she insists he stay monitored by them for another day. He wonders what it is she’s referring to by his ‘state.’ The fact he’s still shaking, or all the cuts on his face from Billy’s beating. Until he stands up too fast and she’s right there to stabilize him. Maybe it’s just everything.

He can’t wait to leave the next day. He needs the high he got last year, after the first encounter.

↞⬡+¤+⬡↠

He’s cleared to go to school the next day, though he sleeps in and has to go back home to shower, and get his school supplies. He doesn’t arrive until lunch period at 12:30, which he barely makes. He’s mostly there because he needs to graduate this year, and now that Nancy probably won’t be helping him anymore, he can’t be missing too many days. He can’t make himself pay attention to any of his classes, so that doesn’t help.

↞⬡+¤+⬡↠

He arrives before Eddie this time and sits on the picnic bench.

“Harrington!” he hears Eddie's voice behind him. “I was starting to wonder if I’d ever see your pretty face around here again.” Steve rolls his eyes and turns around. Eddie’s hair had grown since he last saw him, from what would be considered shaggy to long, reaching just past his shoulders now. Steve might fixate on that a little bit too long, and might internally scold himself for being weird about it. “Whoa… I heard you and Hargrove got into a fight, but shit.”

“Yeah, thanks.”

“Sorry,” he says, even though he’s smiling. “I take it you’re here for some high–grade painkillers.” Honestly that hadn’t even occurred to Steve. The pain felt somewhat distant. He’s not sure if that’s because this is his third black eye in the past year, or just because his mind has been preoccupied.

“No. Is the previous offer still up?”

Eddie clicks his tongue. “Oh, what was that again? 25 dollars to smoke until you feel better?”

“I think so.”

Eddie takes the deal, even when Steve warns him it might take more to calm him down this time. He almost looks concerned as to why that would be, and tells him not to worry about it. He goes through twice as much as last time before he stops shaking for the first time in two days, and he can finally close his eyes without seeing a mass of Demo-dogs charging at him.

He heads home, assured that he’d be able to relax now. He just needed to shut down his panic. Like last year.

↞⬡+¤+⬡↠

When Steve first broke off his friendship with Tommy and Carol, he started sitting with Nancy and Jonathan. Now he sits at an empty table, before a few cheerleaders crowd his space. Since no girl in school would dare tread Carol’s territory, then he dated Nancy, this wasn’t something that had happened before. It almost surprised him.

Before Nancy, he’d have reveled in this. Now he needs a break. By the end of lunch, most of them seem aggravated, but back down

“Back so soon, Harrington?” Eddie grins, only a few days later. “Is there a reason you decided to grace a mere peasant with your presence?” His bravado and flowy language falls a bit flat at the last sentence, as he fails to hide his concern.

“Stay out of it, Munson.”

“I’m just saying. King Steve visiting the village freak, twice in the same week. Seems a bit out of character, doesn’t it.”

“I don’t know about ‘freak.’ I’m starting to think of you as more of a jester.”

Eddie perks up. “Like the court jester?” he asks skeptically.

“Sure man, if you want to think of it that way,” Steve says. Eddie laughs. It’s nice. “I haven’t exactly been ‘king’ for a while, though.”

“People still call you that, you know.”

“In the last week?”

“Yeah. Did something happen in the last week?”

“I guess I just assumed… I don’t know. I’m over the title, at least.”

Eddie hums before cracking open his lunchbox, where he stores his goods. They lay on the table like they always do. Maybe ten minutes of silence, Eddie speaks up.

“You’re growing enigmatic, Harrington.” Steve doesn’t know what that means, but Eddie almost sounds disappointed. Steve doesn’t know how to fix that, so he says nothing.

↞⬡+¤+⬡↠

Steve had been skipping PE the previous day, using his concussion as an excuse, but knew he wouldn’t be able to get out of it forever. He fully intends on attending class today. As soon as he walks in, Billy’s eyes meet him and he immediately scrambles out of sight, backing out the door. Shit.

↞⬡+¤+⬡↠

When Steve gets home from school to Hopper and some other government officials at his door. He freezes for a second. He hasn’t actually been the most legally upstanding citizen. He hasn’t been underage drinking in a while, but you could probably still smell weed on him if you tried.

Instead of searching his house or anything, they sit him at the table and have him sign an NDA. It’s read to him like Miranda Rights, which, thank god. He does not need to embarrass himself about his slow reading and his comprehension skills at the same time. The NDA is fairly straightforward for what he’d think the situation would entail and he agrees to sign.

On the way out the door, Hopper turns to him.

“I hope pot doesn’t become a habit for you,” he says, almost threateningly. Like he understands, but won’t hesitate to turn him in if he catches him. Steve nods. The chief moves to leave again.

“Hey, actually,” Steve stammers a bit, and Hopper turns around. “The guy who gave me a concussion. I have a class with him. Do you know if it would be possible for you to do something about that?” Hopper just nods before turning back to leave.

↞⬡+¤+⬡↠

The next day is Thursday, and he’s called into the office, just before first period ends. They tell him his second and third period classes are going to be switched. He makes a mental note to thank Hopper the next time he sees him. Even if the reason he sees him next turns out to be because he gets arrested for possession of marijuana. If he continues for long.

↞⬡+¤+⬡↠

His parents are home when comes home from school that day. He enters the house and his father immediately stands from where he’s sitting, hands on his hips. Oh no.

“Would you care to explain to me,” Oh no. “why your mother found that you are not only behind on the laundry,” Shit. “but also why the top layer of clothes smell like smoke and drugs?”

Steve gulps. “It’s just marijuana. And does it matter? You let me drink. Why would weed be any different?”

His father marches toward him and Steve stiffens. “I already know you’re a disappointment. Your mother knows you’re a disappointment. Let’s keep it between us three. Drugs; people will pick up on that. They’ll smell it on you. You know who does marijuana?”

Steve rolls his eyes. “The Mexicans.”

His father grabs his face. “Look at me when I’m talking to you, boy.” Never mind Steve was the one talking when he looked away briefly.

Steve gets dragged to the closet, and it’s so much worse than last time. After the events in the tunnels, he needs more light than the sliver under the door provides. He slides his hand under it, gripping the door, like he did last time. When night falls, he remains in the closet, and isn’t released until morning. He wants to skip school that day, and he would have if his parents were on one of their typical business trips. He doesn’t dare while they’re home.

When he comes home Friday, he finds that his parents got rid of all of the clothes left in his basket, all ‘tainted’ with the smell.

↞⬡+¤+⬡↠

Steve’s parents leave again on Saturday, and when Monday comes and Steve hasn’t slept since Wednesday night. He’s thinking about what to do on the way to the picnic bench. He’s going to get high again, that much he knows. He can’t keep going on zero sleep. He just doesn’t know how he’s going to hide it this time.

What had Vanessa said about getting smoke out of clothes. Baking soda? Isn’t that for baking? Would it even work with marijuana?

“This is becoming a regular occurrence, Steve.”

“Well from what I can tell, I’m the only one who actually buys from you. So maybe you shouldn’t complain.”

“I have a few locations I hit,” he says. “This is the last place I get to, so I tend to stick around longer. It’s getting colder, so people prefer the indoor locations.” He clicks his case open.

“You wouldn’t happen to know how to get the smell out of clothes, would you?”

“Haven’t been caught yet, now, have I?”

“I don’t exactly keep up on police reports.”

“Well I haven’t.” He sounds offended that Steve would imply he could have let himself get caught.

“Yeah, well, pretty much everyone at school knows you deal.”

“Oh yeah? And what are they gonna do about it? Snitch? Lose their best access?”

“I… Can we start over?” he asks, not knowing how to apologize. He meant the conversation, and Eddie has to know that, but he swings his legs over the bench and stands up. He bows with grandiosity.

“Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson,” he introduces, holding his hand out like he expects Steve to kiss it. Steve just grimaces back.

“I thought we talked about that. You’re not…” He blames his exhaustion on his inability to voice his thoughts entirely. Even though that doesn’t check out, because he has all the words thought up, but he’s done it twice now.

“Oh, I get it.” Eddie snaps, plopping back down on the bench. “You retired the king title to be a knight.” He leans forward, looking closer at Steve’s than he had the whole conversation, and his face falls a bit. “Jeez, man. You look exhausted.”

“‘S why I’m here.”

↞⬡+¤+⬡↠

Usually, they spend time staring up at the sky, but Steve’s almost asleep when he hears Eddie’s head turn to face him.

“Steve?” He gives a hum in response, to indicate that he’s still awake. “I know I don’t know you that well, but… it’s obvious something happened.” It’s not a question, but it has a proding tone. Steve knows he can get away with pretending to be asleep now, with how groggy his hum was, so he does. He hears Eddie sigh and feels the joint get plucked from his fingers and he’s asleep within seconds anyway.

↞⬡+¤+⬡↠

He wakes up stiff. Eddie didn’t wake him up this time, so it’s morning. He has a distant thought of almost betrayal that Eddie had left him there, before he turns to see that Eddie is also asleep. He isn’t laying next to him, though, as he had been when Steve fell asleep. He was on the bench, his arms pillowing his head.

He sits up and looks at his watch. He has enough time to get back to school if he doesn’t go home to get changed. Of course, if someone does catch the scent, it would get back to his parents. That can’t happen. Maybe if he goes to the store, he can just buy new clothes and get to school on time.

Eddie stirs, before blinking up at him. “Oh, hey,” he says groggily. “G’morning.”

“Did you fall asleep?”

“I didn’t think I should interrupt your sleep just to tell you to go home. Looked like you needed it. Didn’t want to leave you alone in the middle of the woods all night.” He shrugs.

“Ok, well I’m gonna need, uh… one of those bone doctors.”

“A chiropractor?” he laughs.

“Mhm, yep.” Steve feels the same as he normally previously would if he’d woken up in the middle of the night. Still exhausted, but he would be able to manage for a while. He makes his way up, his back cracking a few times as he stands.

↞⬡+¤+⬡↠

Steve ends up skipping first period, running home to get dressed. He shoves his clothes under his mattress, just in case. He’d take care of them after school.

↞⬡+¤+⬡↠

Back when Steve was still friends with Tommy and Carol, the three of them mostly just ate with each other, since no one dared tread in their territory. Carol covered some bases Steve hadn’t really considered until she was no longer there.

It’s lunch and he’s being flocked by girls. Well, ‘flocked,’ but there’s a good chunk of them who apparently don’t have anything better to do or talk about with their actual friends. Like, seven cheerleaders, and two or three girls who are confident despite not being. Even when he was dating Nancy, and everyone knew he was dating Nancy, every now and then a few girls would come over and try to pry his attention, but it’s so much worse now that everyone knows he’s available.

The girls who regularly surround his table have grown to accept that he’s not planning to rebound so quickly, but they don’t exactly back off all that far. He takes his seat next to Virginia Emerson, not long before Eddie walks up to the table.

"Steve," he calls, before seeming to realize who all, exactly, is at the table he's walked up to. "Oh... uh..." He holds up a folded piece of paper, as if that explains what he's here for.

"Oooh," Tiffany Huntsman mocks. "I think the freak wants to give you a love letter, Steve."

"Whoa," Steve directed at her after hearing the word freak leave her mouth. "Be cool."

"Actually," Eddie scoffs. "I got those notes you asked for," he seems to settle on saying.

"Notes?" Steve asks, eyebrows furrowed.

"Just- here, man." He flicks the paper toward him. Steve picks it up and pulls the first fold open, revealing a label in big sloppy letters.

               How to hide the smell of weed

"Oh, those notes," he said. "Yeah, thanks man." Steve is almost enunciating his words, as if to make it clear to the girls that they shouldn't have jumped to those kinds of conclusions. Eddie only gave a small wave in response, moving to retreat.

“God, what a freak,” Lissa Dunn mutters.

“Hey,” he immediately snaps.

“What? He’s not here anymore.”

“Oh, come one Lisa,” Virginia voices. “You know Steve has a soft spot for weirdos.”

“What?” Steve asks.

“Relax, Stevie. I think it’s cute that you take pity on the little guys.”

“I just… what do you mean?”

“Well come on Steve. Your first girlfriend was Nancy Wheeler.”

“What’s wrong with Nance?”

“You mean besides the fact that she broke up with you for Jonathan Byers?” Lisa quips and there’s some echoing laughs that follow.

“She’s just, you know…” Virginia says, “She gets obsessed over nothing stuff. It’s weird.”

“She dresses like Little Bow Peep.”

“Plus she’s so caught up with school. I mean, she’s such a nerd. She’s just gotten better at acting above it.”

“She has passion,” he defends.

“It’s ok, Steve. She’s not your girlfriend now. You don’t have to protect her anymore.”

Steve gets up, taking his school tray with him. Everyone watches him leave, curious as to what made King Steve storm out of the castle. He eats in his car that day.

↞⬡+¤+⬡↠

Nancy stops him after school before he returns home.

“The Hollands are planning dinner for next week,” she tells him, awkwardly. “Would you still like to come? Or if you’re just busy I can ask them to reschedule.” Steve sucks in a breath through his teeth. He definitely doesn’t want to sit down and have a whole meal with Nancy, whether or not they plan on posing as if they’re still dating or not. He’s been so exhausted lately, he doesn’t know if he could muster up the energy. But… he really doesn’t want to have his last interaction with them to be them telling him they’re glad he still cares. Doesn’t want to feel like he passed a threshold to allow him to stop. Doesn’t want them to think that of him; doesn’t want it to be true.

“Can I get that extra week?”

“Don’t worry,” she tells him. “Me and Jonathan might have figured out a way to get admittance from Hawkins Lab that they caused her death. It will give the Hollands closure, and we won’t have to do this anymore.” Steve sucks in a breath.

“You and Jonathan huh?”

“Steve, don’t be like that. That was before everything. That’s what we skipped school for.”

“Oh. I thought that was to bang.”

“Why would you think that?”

“Because I know you did.”

“What…”

“Jonathan told me. I mean, he said you did it at night, so I guess that theory didn’t really check out, huh? I don’t know. Thought maybe you got held up or something.”

“God I can’t believe he told you that,” she practically spits.

“Yeah, and I can’t believe you didn’t. I mean, come on, Nancy!”

“We aren’t dating anymore, Steve!”

“But you’re still having me take you to the Hollands.”

“You don’t have to come.” She’s actually getting aggravated now. It’s almost nice, and Steve feels like an asshole for that. He takes a breath. Tries to level his head.

“No. No, I’m gonna come. I just… Are we going to have to act like we’re still dating?”

“I think… I think that would be easiest.”

Steve can feel himself slipping into his emotions. “Give me the week,” he says.

↞⬡+¤+⬡↠

Steve spends the afternoon cleaning his clothes from the previous night, using the method Eddie wrote down for him. He knows if he throws Eddie’s instructions away he won’t remember them. He needs to hide the note somewhere his parents won’t find it. The only problem is that there was only one place he could think of. His parents were nosey and had high standards for the cleanliness and appearance of their house, so the only place they didn’t check was the closet. They knew he was afraid avoidant of it, so they never opened it except to shove Steve inside. The top shelf was left when everything was removed, sitting well above even Steve’s father’s head. Steve shakily slides the note as far back as he can reach and practically slams the door back closed.

The monotonous task of cleaning the clothes is soothing and when it’s finished he moves to making a batch of bagels. His stash had run out a few days ago, and he’d just been skipping breakfast. He finds himself staying up until just a bit past midnight, and when he does get to bed, he actually gets to sleep. A dreamless sleep, for once.

↞⬡+¤+⬡↠

He spends all of his free time keeping his mind busy, and it seems to work. He does his homework for the first time since the Halloween party with Nancy, and he almost enjoys it. He definitely enjoys having it as an alternative to letting his mind drift elsewhere.

Everything is sinking back to normal and he can finally feel it in his mind. There’s a fog he’d grown accustomed to that is finally lifting. He feels real again. He does a lot of cooking, jogging, and cleaning until the second week is up and he has to pick Nancy up for the Hollands’ dinner.

↞⬡+¤+⬡↠

He picks her up and neither of them say a word until they greet Mrs. Holland at the door. Even then, neither of them are speaking to each other, just within each other's vicinity.

While Steve had learned to keep his dumb questions to himself during classes, he was well in the habit of voicing them outside the classroom. He especially got in the habit again when he started dating Nancy and she would always answer, with a passion and excitement to spread her knowledge. He’s finding himself voicing these questions to no one in particular during the meal, and almost expects Nancy to answer, but she doesn’t. It hurts in a way he didn’t expect.

“Are you alright, Nancy?” Mrs. Holland asks, after one too many ignored questions.

“You know what,” she says thoughtfully, glancing at Steve, “no. Not really. I didn’t want to make this about us, but Steve and I are no longer… together. And it’s fine,” she stresses. “We’re just not quite on our feet about interacting yet.”

Both Holland’s gaze turn to his and he dodges their eyes, looking away entirely. Mr. Holland must take that as some sort of admission of guilt because he asks, “What did you do?”

It’s not exactly like he can defend that he did anything, especially since he’s not entirely clear on that himself. As far as he can tell, Nancy was upset because he didn’t care enough about Barb’s death. He doesn’t think he could force himself to tell them that. He stands abruptly and leaves the room. From behind him, he can hear Mrs. Holland gently scolding her husband. Steve goes out to his car where he waits until Nancy returns.

“You’re still here,” she says, sounding confused.

“I’m your ride,” he says simply. She nods, entering the car. “What did you tell them?”

“I’m sorry?”

“What did you tell them? That I did- What did you tell them I did?”

“Nothing. I told them we were drifting, emotionally.”

“They didn’t question that?”

“A bit, but not enough to be unconvinced.”

Steve starts the car. They’ve passed a few blocks before anything else is spoken. “I can’t keep doing this,” Steve says. “Not if… No. I can’t.”

“Steve, come on,” she pleads, using those big blue eyes of hers. Steve is too busy looking at the road to see them, but they can feel them burning the side of his head. “We might only need to do this a few more times. And don’t you think you kind of owe it to them. Barb did die in your pool.”

Steve slams on the breaks, right in the middle of the road. Luckily for them it wasn’t busy, because it’s not like Steve took that into account. He turns his eyes, horrified, to meet Nancy’s.

“Eleven found her in the upside down version of your pool. Did I… never tell you that?”

Steve doesn’t respond; just slowly and shakily moves his foot back to the gas pedal. ‘Like we didn’t kill Barb,’ Nancy had said at the Halloween party. Had he?

They get to Nancy’s house and as he leaves the car he can vaguely hear Nancy questioning his action to do so, before he vomits on the pavement.

“Oh my god! Steve!” She runs over to him, placing her hand on his back.

“Please, just go away.” It takes a few seconds, but he eventually hears the click of her shoes retreating.

“Don’t worry about the mess, ok? We’ll clean it up.” Then he hears the door click.

He stands there for an embarrassingly long time, allowing the new information to wash over him along with the acidic smell of his stomach acid combined with the baked ziti he had at the Hollands. When he finally goes to leave, he catches two heads ducking out of sight from the window of the house.

He drives home with the fog seeping over his brain. When he gets there he covers up every window and glass door that the pool is visible from.

↞⬡+¤+⬡↠

That night he dreams about his first encounter with the Demogorgon. It goes mostly the same as it always does, but this time when it catches on fire, it’s completely unaffected. It stays on fire and the bear trap fades to ash, releasing it. It grabs Nancy and Jonathan and they disintegrate on the spot. It grabs Steve by the face and he wakes up gasping for breath.

He manages to even out his breathing after he doesn’t know how long. He doesn’t get back to sleep that night; just sits in silence, staring at the ceiling. If he concentrates, he can hear a light whooshing in his ears. Like the muffled sound of an air conditioner.

↞⬡+¤+⬡↠

The next day, he makes stew for dinner. It’s the most time consuming meal he’s learned, taking a few hours to complete, and he certainly needs the distraction. He’s at the final step, when the doorbell rings. He opens it to find Dustin, carrying a few paper bags.

“What are you doing here?” he asks.

“I got the stuff,” he says, “the Fabergé and the Farrah Fawcett, but I think our hair is too different and it hasn’t really been working. I was hoping you could help me, you know… perfect the recipe.”

“I’m kind of busy working on my own recipe here.”

“Oh, what kind?” Dustin asks, barging past Steve like it was his own house. When Steve doesn’t answer—left speechless by the audacity—Dustin looks around aimlessly before plopping the bags on the bench in the foyer. “This place is enormous. Where’s that recipe you’re working on?”

“Shit,” Steve spits quietly at himself, realizing it’s still on the stove. He rushes over to it, turning it off to stir the contents, before turning it back on again once he thinks the heat has evened back out. The last fog that remains let it slip his mind to move it off the burner to answer the door. Or he’s just being regular stupid again.

“You meant an actual recipe?” he hears from behind him. “What are you making?”

“Doesn’t matter. I only made one serving.”

“I didn’t come here for food anyway, I came here for hair advice. There’s a school dance coming up and I want to have it figured out before then.”

“Have your friends help you with it.”

“I want it to be a surprise.”

“Have your mom help you with it.”

“Are you kidding? ‘My mom did it for me?’ That’s so embarrassing.”

“How is that any more embarrassing than harassing a high schooler about it?”

“Uh, having a cool, older friend to take me under his wing?”

“Who says we’re friends?”

“I’d like to be.”

“For cool points. Get out of here.”

“Steve… I haven’t seen you since we dropped you off at the hospital, and Mike said he saw you puke on his driveway. I’m just… I’m worried about you. Is that not ok?”

“Why?”

“Why, what?”

“I just… kid you don’t have to worry about me. I’m fine. Go home. Have your mom help you.”

“You’re fine? Is that why I’ve seen three blankets on the walls since I’ve gotten here? What’s that all about? Is it to block out light? Are you still getting headaches from the concussion?” He’s referring to the covered windows, and god, he sounds so concerned. Steve doesn’t know what to make of it.

It’s not like he’s never had anyone worry about him. Vanessa was clearly worried he’d starve to death if she didn’t teach him to cook, but she just barged in and insisted on teaching him. Maybe Dustin was just too young to know the solutions to the problems he’s confronted with, and is just freaking out.

“Don’t worry about it,” Steve reassures. “I’m not getting headaches. That’s for something else.” He turns the stove off, and lets it simmer. Dustin just looks at him almost suspiciously before finally letting it go.

“Whatever. Are you going to help me or not?”

Steve sighs. “Fine,” he says. “Do you want some?” he asks, gesturing to the pot. Dustin hums in thought.

“Well let me see.” He grabs the stirring spoon and tastes it. “Wow, that’s really bland.”

“I don’t cook for fun. I cook to eat.”

Dustin turns toward the kitchen door. “Where’s your mom?”

Steve shrugs. “Who knows?”

Dustin hums again. “Do you have any spices or something?” Without waiting for a response, he starts digging around in the cabinets. Steve does have spices, but he didn’t put them there. It’s just the stuff Vanessa stocked the house with for whenever she cooks, which isn’t something she’s done in months, Steve is just realizing. As his parents' company has grown, they’ve been eating out, at expensive restaurants, almost every day. Steve, of course, still has an allowance.

Dustin has found a variety of things, and is just eyeballing his way through it. Throwing in things that are—from Steve’s limited perspective—seemingly random, but with the confidence of a professional. “If I’d gotten here earlier I’d have told you to put onions in it from the start, but it’s a bit late for that,” Dustin says. “Otherwise, that should be good.”

Steve grabs a separate spoon and tastes it. “Holy shit, it is! Where did you learn to do this?”

“I guess that’s just what happens when Claudia Henderson is your mom.”

They both eat, Dustin taking a much smaller serving since he’d also be getting dinner at home and Steve wouldn’t be having much else. Then they move to the restroom to experiment with the curly mass of hair that lays on top of the Henderson’s head. They think they’ve got it down. Of course, they can’t undo and redo the hair with all these products in one sitting, so they agree for Henderson to come over the next day to make sure they had it down. Mostly, he just needed a bit more product than Steve, and a little help from a hair dryer. The theory is confirmed the next day.

↞⬡+¤+⬡↠

Later that week—Saturday—Steve has the news on to fill the silence of the empty house, when he hears the name Barbara Holland, and he stops his pushups. A man named Murray Bauman—and why does that name sound so familiar—had uncovered some footage of one of the heads of Hawkins Lab, admitting involvement in the coverup of her death. Steve’s realing, because ‘What coverup? She just disappeared. In my pool.’

The news claims there was a chemical leak, and they found her body. They hid her.That’s why the name Murray Bauman sounds so familiar. The Hollands hired someone to figure out what happened.

He immediately drives over to Nancy’s place. Doesn’t even change out of the workout clothes he’d donned.

↞⬡+¤+⬡↠

He’s sticky with dried sweat by the time he gets there, a fact he’s distantly aware of. Mr. Wheeler answers the door.

“Aren’t you two supposed to be broken up?” he asks with a huff.

“Yes,” Steve says. “I still need to talk to her.”

“Have fun winning her back in that get up.” He gestures to Steve’s obviously sweaty workout clothes.

“I just need to talk to her, please!”

“Well, since you said please,” he sneers, condescending, before slamming the door in his face. Steve stands at the door for a minute, stunned. He’s about to knock again when the door opens again. Apparently Mr. Wheeler had gotten Nancy, if begrudgingly, and she looks happy.

“Why is the news saying that Barb died in a—what was it—a chemical spill?”

“Well they had to say it was something. I told you, Jonathan and I got them to admit guilt.”

“I just… I thought you were just going to get them to tell the truth. Not to everyone, but just to the Hollands.”

“They can’t just do that. But now, at least they won’t be spending all their money on the lost cause of hoping to find their daughter alive. They finally have closure.”

“Do they? I mean, we’re lying to them.”

“You’re the one who wouldn’t let me tell them the truth.”

“That doesn’t mean lying to them!”

“We already were lying to them!”

“What?”

“A lie of omission. Is still a lie.”

“I just… It’s not like they have any reason to believe we could have known. We shouldn’t know. There’s no reason we should know.”

“But we do. That’s the difference. I can’t just sit around and do nothing about it. You were right, we can’t tell them the truth, but… this is the best we can do. They won’t be waiting for their little girl to come home. And they won’t have to sell their house to do it.”

“Ok,” he says. “Just… next time, could you make sure I don’t find this stuff out from the news?”

“You’re right. I’m sorry. You’ve been out of the loop a lot in the past year. God, I haven’t even told you where the monsters come from, have I?”

“Don’t worry about it. Henderson already filled me in about that.”

“Oh, right,” she smiles. “You had your own little side adventure, didn’t you?”

“Ok, you need to stop doing that,” he backs away.

“Doing what?”

“Acting like everything’s fine between us. Joking. This conversation is over now. I’m going home.”

↞⬡+¤+⬡↠

He gets a call later that day. He’s being invited to Barbara’s funeral. He can hear the tears in Mrs. Holland's shaky voice, as she chokes the words out. Of course he agrees to come.

↞⬡+¤+⬡↠

The funeral is only a few days later. He has to call Vanessa to get her to excuse him from school so he can go. The gathering is too small, Steve thinks. There’s maybe fifteen people, and that includes Nancy’s parents and Jonathan, who she dragged along with her.

“I can come to the next dinner if you want,” Steve tells Mrs. Holland on arrival. They’re both putting their coats up in the funeral home.

“I don’t think we’ll be having any for quite a while,” she responds. “If ever again.”

“I think you should. Pay memorial, or whatever.”

“We held the dinners to keep up hope. Hope that we’d find her. That’s all gone now.” She sniffles. ”Besides, we’re still busy trying to sell the house.”

“You’re still selling your house?” Steve’s voice almost breaks.

“We were already paying Murray with money we already didn’t have, and then had to dish out money for the funeral. We don’t have much other choice.” She rushes out of the room soon after that.

Parallel to that conversation, after the eulogy Steve is putting his coat back on when Mr. Holland gets his attention.

“I wanted to apologize for jumping to conclusions about you and Nancy.”

“That’s ok. I know I have a reputation of being kind of a douche… But I’m just here for Barbara right now, so… yeah, don’t worry about it.”

“Call her Barb. She always hated when people called her Barbara.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“It’s ok. No one told you.”

↞⬡+¤+⬡↠

Mr. Wheeler had been leering at Steve the entire eulogy, and after switching locations to the actual burial site he pulls him to the side.

“Nancy’s too good for you,” Mr. Wheeler tells him.

“I know.”

“So what are you doing here?”

Steve blinks. “Because Nancy might be too good for me, but at least I have my priorities straight. We’re at a funeral, man. Why are you even here?” Mr. Wheeler, Ted as Steve had heard Mrs. Wheeler call him, doesn’t respond. He just makes a face like he smelled something bad. Steve walks away.

Masterlist

Chapter 4>>

[refusetoseetheghosts]

An Unconventional Type Of Love - Chapter 4 - RefuseToSeeTheGhosts - Stranger Things (TV 2016) [Archive of Our Own]

This completes the last chapter for this fic, can't believe I have finally finished it lol

Content warning because this slow burn ends with some long awaited Steddie smut because as if they'd be able to keep their hands off each other for THIS long

But they're also in love, so expect a fluffy, sappy ending 💕

Ty to anyone who has followed this in any way

[cherryxlavender]

Chapter five of my Eddie-focused Steddie slow burn, When I'm With You, is coming out this week. I haven't abandoned the story. I just sometimes lose motivation and become very lazy. 😭

But I promise I haven't abandoned the story and do plan on seeing it through to the end.

To all my new followers or anyone who sees this, please check it out on AO3 if you haven't already. Thanks for all the support. 😊🙏

[augustjustice]

I simply think that Steve "Asks Out Anyone He's Interested In No Matter How Many Times And How Badly He Strikes Out" Harrington and Eddie "Wears His Heart On His Sleeve, Tells The People Around Him Exactly How He Feels Without Prompting" Munson would, once they got even an inkling that they liked each other, have the fastest burn alive.

[caxde]

lovingsomeone | steddie x reader

summary: Eddie's got a crush on you, Steve's got a crush on you, and you're not sure who you like. A school dance and a summer party help you figure things out. (9.3k)(srry i got carried away)

warnings: smut! 18+ mdni use of alcohol and weed, afab reader, p in v sex, masturbation, oral sex and overall teenage horniness. Steve being overconfident and Eddie being a nervous wreck.

a/n: I did a first part to it answering a request and kept writing, so i put it all together! enjoy<3 english is not my first language!

“So, will you actually say something to her this time?” Robin teased Eddie for the hundredth time. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He snapped back, shaking his head as he overly enunciated every word, trying desperately to not blush at the thought of you. 

“Sure you don’t.” She breathed out, pushing her head back. 

Robin had always been preceptive, even more so when it came to her best friends. Maybe that’s why Robin had no problem when it came time to figure out what was going on. 

She was the first -and maybe only one- to catch Eddie’s lips opening, the clenched fists, the way he always tried to make you laugh or how he looked fastly over at you everytime something funny happened, just so he could see you smile. 

It wasn’t long after when she clocked Steve doing something similar. Steve would always fix his hair before talking to you, he took a step closer than he had to when he was talking to you, his hand lingered when he passed something to you. Most importantly, Steve was a big flirt, and Robin could tell it was working. 

She still was unsure about you. 

She had caught you looking at Eddie when he was deep into a story, your eyelids half closed, as if you were daydreaming about him, and she was sure she had seen you bite your lower lip after looking at his neck. 

But today you had called Steve an idiot with a dumb smile, a playful touch to his chest that had left your cheeks with a pinkish hue, only made worse when Steve grabbed your hand so he could make you twirl to the sound of the music emanating from his car before he left when he dropped you both off. 

Robin was now sitting outside the car park, with an Eddie who was lost into you. 

Eddie couldn’t keep his eyes off of you, and the way your hair moved as you walked closer to them. 

“You’re doing okay?” She asked with an eyebrow raised, as she schotched over so you’d sit next to her as you always did. 

Eddie didn’t even look up, he just grabbed the chocolate bar he had in his pocket, for exactly that reason, handing it over to you. 

“You don’t have to.” Your voice came out all shy, a soft smile as you looked at the colorufull wrapper that laid right in his hands. 

“I know.” Eddie muttered, nodding his head at you, the usual grin he had only for you appearing on his face. 

“Thanks Eds.” You managed to say, grabbing it and biting it. 

Robin rolled her eyes as soon as she saw Eddie focusing on the way your lips opened, stifling a laugh as she shook her head. Both of you are oblivious to the way the other feels.

“Are we still going to the dance tonight?” You asked, breaking the small moment of silence that had formed. 

“Is it tonight?” Eddie asked, his usual teasing tone in his voice every time this topic came up. 

“Yes…” You squinted your eyes at him, knowing he’d smile as soon as he saw you. 

“Yeah, we’ll be here.” Robin confirmed, standing up from the little curbside she had settled into. “Can you give me a ride, Eds?” She asked, tussing her hair in the middle of the question. 

“Uh, sure. D’you need a ride, dove?” Eddie was embarrassed as soon as he muttered the nickname he tried, recomforted by the way you seemed to be pleased by it. 

“I think Steve’s picking me up.” You felt a bit guilty saying it, made worse by Eddie pressing his lips together, followed by a short nod as he went to find his van. 

“Okay, what’s the deal?” Robin had had enough of playing detective. She needed to know what was going through your mind. 

“What do you mean?” You scrunch your nose, not really wanting to know if she was asking what you thought she meant. 

“Oh come on! Eddie’s got a crush on you, Steve has a crush on you, you..?” She left the question open, wanting you to finish it with an answer, instead you got all flustered, standing up straight in a fast motion, trying to make sense of what she had just said. 

“Eddie doesn’t have a crush on me! Neither does Steve, he’s just being nice… And I just, they’re both…” 

“Hot?” 

“Shut up…” You punched her on her shoulder, a giggle escaping both of your lips. “They both treat me so well, and they’re kind and yeah… they’re hot.” 

Robin couldn’t help but laugh, and neither could you, it only made it worse when Robin suggested that if you played your cards right, you might see Paris. 

It continued until Steve’s car stopped next to you. 

Steve stepped out, fixing his hair in a movement that made you wish you could be the one fixing it. His other hand held a small gathering of wild flowers, with pink carnations sticking out of them. Robin's mouth opened wide, as she saw how Steve moved closer to you, looking nervous. 

“Hi.” You chirped, as soon as he stood right in front of you, his feet almost touching yours. 

“Hi.” He stuttered a bit, his nervous energy made evident. He gave a quick glance at Robin, who just nodded, stepping back a bit. “I uh… I know this might be cheesy but, these are for you–” He stopped talking when your fingers brushed his, the same feeling he always had invading your body. An electricity, a warmness that was hard to explain. 

“They are lovely… Why…?” The sweetest tone that could be heard as a melody came out of your lips, and Steve could live in it for an eternity. 

“I… I kinnda wanna take you to the dance, if you’re okay with it.” He begged, a faint trace on it on his tone, as he stepped a bit closer, your feet between his opened legs. His eyes locked into yours, you were a goner as soon as you looked at him and the way his lips curved a bit more on the right than they did on the left. 

“Like a date?” You echoed, a glimpse of hope evident enough that his teeth were now showing when he smiled as he nodded. “I’d love to.” 

Steve caressed your cheek as he reached to hold your hand, walking you to his car as he opened the door for you, he was still going to drive you home. 

Unlucky for Eddie, he had seen the whole thing, and Robin said nothing, just waited for him to start the car. 

-

You and Robin were supposed to get picked up by Steve, who was supposed to pick Eddie up. 

It did happen, only that the tension in the car between both boys could be felt, even from outside and with the windows rolled up. 

No music was playing on the radio, Steve was grabbing the steering wheel a bit harder than he needed to -his knuckles turning white- whilst Eddie kept playing with his index finger, one swipe left, two swipes right. 

Eddie wanted to talk, to ask Steve is he was serious about it, but the smell of aftershave was intoxicating enough to confirm he was. 

As soon as the car stopped, Eddie looked at the wooden doors of Robin’s house, and the way Steve walked them up with such confidence -even if he was just faking it, he was nervous about it all going well, so much so he hadn’t even realised he drove over with no music on- he left a knock on the door, for it to open shortly after. 

You were truly breathtaking. 

Red had never looked that good. The dress hugged your chest, a flowy skirt dropping from your waist, your arms decorated with the same red colour as what looked like a scarf fell from them. Your hair was out of your face, your eyes shined a bit more, your lips looked pinker, juicier. He was losing his mind. 

It only hurt a bit more when he realised he had his hand out, waiting for yours to fit in it, but you moved past him, accepting Steve’s instead, as he twirled you around, praising you, telling you just how good you looked. A shower of compliments Eddie was also thinking, but couldn’t articulate. He just stared at the floor, only looking up when he felt Robin’s touch on his shoulder, a look of compassion held between the both of them. 

Nobody would blame you, or the hyperfixation you had all of a sudden with the way Steve’s neck looked, the red tie wrapping around it, contrasting with the white shirt. What was worse, you had never realised just how many moles and freckles Steve’s skin had, the one that laid where his jaw met his neck was particularly driving you insane. You danced the night away, mostly it was the four of you in a little circle, chatting and drinking whatever was inside the punch. Steve’s hands only found your waist when a slow song played. His thumbs grabbed you a bit too hard, in a way that he knew immediately why you bit your lower lip, and in response your hands were behind his neck, your nails tracing a patron in his skin, tugging his hair slightly. He grinned, chuckled and made you laugh, his eyes shining, looking at yours. You had never seen such beauty in brown until now. 

Maybe you did like Steve, and maybe he did like you. 

Eddie went outside. As soon as he saw you biting your lip, his hands on your waist, yours in his hair, he needed some air. 

He wished it were him. He wasn’t as fancy as Steve was, he had a white shirt under his uncle's old muted brown shirt. He struggled to remember in which pocket he put the Marlboro's away. He had been fidgeting with his lighter for a while, needing, craving a moment of silence. 

He was almost done smoking as he felt sorry for himself, when he heard the doors opening, the sudden music became clear for those brief seconds. 

He turned around, seeing you walking towards him with the biggest smile he had seen in your face for a while. 

For a brief moment, he forgot he was hurt. 

“You do look beautiful Moon” You told him as soon as you reached him, your body next to his, snatching the half smoked cigarette that he had in between his fingers. 

He scoffed, turning his whole body to look at you, he saw the way you smiled up at him, you were being sincere which was only just as hurting as you dancing with him had been. 

“Beautiful?” He questioned, a slight teasing on his tone as he inched closer, breathing in the smoke you let out, stealing the cigarette back. 

“Yeah, beautiful handsome Eddie.” You uttered, the faint smell of alcohol left your mouth, Eddie scrunch his nose. 

“You’re drunk?” 

“No, only had one drink. But you’ve been moody, I miss you in there.” You chirped back, your usual playful tone didn’t make him smile, not even grin. You got worried right there and then. Your hand reaching for his, trying to pull him back into the party. 

“I’m sure you’ll have a great time.” He implied, nodding at Steve who was just now opening the door, looking for you with a lovesick grin on his face. 

“What’s going on?” You weren’t sure what you had done to leave him in such a state, he seemed hurt, his words colder than they had even been. 

“Nothing.” Eddie lied, you hated lies. 

Something in you clicked, as you saw the way Steve smiled you, a contradiction to Eddie’s pursed lips as his jawline looked sharper than it ever did. 

Robin’s words echoed in your head Eddie’s got a crush on you, Steve’s got a crush on you. 

“Well, next time have the courage to ask me out before someone else does…” You snapped back, your arms crossing over your chest, a protective stance taking hold of you as you stepped back. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He shook his head, his hair brushing against his face, an apologetic look on his eyes that made you want to cry. 

“It means don’t just suppose nobody will want me, am I supposed to wait for you forever?” 

Eddie couldn’t quite believe that declaration, knowing now you might also have some feeling for him, but he was a little too late. You sniffled your nose, shaking your head, your hair flowing everywhere. “Forget it.” You declared, leaving the little bubble you were in. 

You walked over to Steve, and he just looked at you, the smile he had turned as soon as he saw the way your eyes were crystalizing, menacing with tears. He cupped your cheeks with his hands. 

You gave in, your body hitting his, Eddie just saw the way your shoulders moved up and down. 

You were crying now. 

“Honey…” Steve begged as he took you in his arms. “Do you want to leave?” 

“I’m sorry.” You whispered back, feeling warmer in his arms, the coldness of Eddie’s words brushing away with the closeness of Steve’s body. 

“Don’t be. We can go anywhere you want. As long as I’m with you I’m happy.” He blurted, his eyes looking at yours, his thumbs brushing out the tear that came out of them. 

“Are you sure?” 

“‘curse I am.” He added, a smile returning to his lips, before he kissed the crown of your head. “I can also drop you off.” He offered, you shook you head. 

“I don’t wanna be alone.” You answered, your voice still barely above a whisper. 

“That’s fine, you wanna go for a walk?” He replayed instead, taking your hand, intertwining your fingers with his. 

As soon as you nodded he started walking. He didn’t push for you to talk, he didn’t try to make assumptions, but of course he did. 

The last he had seen was you talking with Eddie. Steve had always thought that Eddie was beautiful, he had a magnetic pull with people that was hard to explain, and he also knew that Eddie was sharp with his words. So he gave you enough time to gather your thoughts. 

“I do like you…” You confessed, your tone remaining low and soft as you spoke, looking at the ground, not confident enough to look at him right now. 

“I like you too.” He gleamed with pride, though he thought that much was obvious. 

“I… I figured that out with the flowers.” You recalled, as a shiver from the cold air made you shake a bit. 

Steve wasted no second, his tuxedo jacket laying on your shoulders now. 

“The flowers gave me away?” He teased, a short chuckle in the back of his throat. “It wasn’t my constant offer to drive you anywhere?” He admitted with a defeated laugh. 

“I thought you were being nice.” You admitted, still not looking at him, much more interested in the way your shoe made contact with the ground beneath your feet. 

“I was. I also have this crush on you.” The word sended shivers down your spine. 

“Robin says Eddie also has a crush on me.” That when you looked up, seeing a defeated nod from Steve only confirmed it. “I… I don’t know what to do.” 

“I don’t wanna tell you what to do, but… while you figure it out, can I defend my case?” He pleaded, his waist bumping into yours, his finger under your chin. He was being brave, he was finally taking his chance. 

As soon as you nodded, and your lips parted, your eyes darting between his eyes and his lips, a neediness that became clear as you realised what was about to happen, Steve got closer. Close enough to breathe the same air as you, his mouth a whisper away from yours, enjoying that tension that had formulated in the air. He was enjoying that bit of power, feeling how bad you wanted him. You were the one to finally close the distance, and he was ecstatic about it. He took his time, his lips moving gracefully against yours, your hands tugging the back of his neck, one of his was lost in the space between your neck and your jawline, applying a pressure that made you moan against his lips, thought maybe that was due to the way his other hand was grabbing your waist, his fingers would leave a mark, that much was clear. 

As soon as you break off the kiss, the lovesick smile on both of your faces was evident. 

“That was…” He muttered, left speechless by your kisses, needing more of them. 

“You are a good kisser.” You slightly teased him back, recalling the rumors about him in a joyful manner. 

He kissed you a lot more after that, having to stop walking in the middle of the road as you went to find his car. 

Robin saw it, and decided it was best if she kept her mouth shut this time, but she did overhear the last thing Steve whispered to you before going back into the car. “I don’t mind sharing, you can figure out whatever you need, honey.” 

She already saw the headache coming, and really regretted that Eddie didn’t see the way your cheeks flustered at the idea of being with him for a while. 

2.9

-

-

“Babe, can you help me?” You cried out, the sun hitting you a bit too hard, you started to feel your skin burning if you weren’t careful. 

“Sure, be with you in a second.” Steve adds, gleaming at the sound of your voice calling him such a pretty nickname. Him and Robin were a bit busy, stacking the small cooler with every kind of beer and seltzer they could name, topping it with ice so it would stay cold during the hot summer’s day. The first of many to come. 

The pool had been officially opened, and with that, the usual invasion of the Harrington household started. This year however, Steve decided to throw a little party, so it wouldn’t be a surprise gathering at his house. 

Robin still hadn’t said anything about what she heard at prom, and she intended to keep it that way, she was having fun watching, as you struggled to operate. 

Steve came over, sitting behind you, a little kiss on your shoulder letting you know he was all yours for now. You passed him the sunscreen, it smelt like coconut and vanilla, as he spread it on your back and shoulders, he took the opportunity to be a bit more handsy than he needed to. He started massaging your back, knowing the effect it had on you, as he heard the stifled groan on the back of your throat, quiet enough that he’d be the only one to hear it. Once he reached the lower part of your back, he spent way too much time in it, tracing patterns that had no meaning besides getting your body closer, and closer to his crotch, moving you a bit so you’d feel the way it grew against your butt cheeks. You looked back at him, over your shoulder, to see him smiling, that stupid smile that let you know just how much he wanted you, now and everyday. You shook your head, laying on his chest with enough mischievousness to let your cheeks hold his bulge between them, you felt him breathe out in a needy manner, right against your cheek. He gave you a kiss on your lips, his hand now caressing your stomach, fully visible thanks to the white bikini you chose to wear. 

“Not while we have company, Harrington.” You whispered into his ear once his lips parted from yours. He groaned, deciding to just hold you tightly, his head buried where your neck met your shoulder, leaving wet kisses in that spot he knew you liked. 

“I told you… I don’t mind sharing.” He recalled the conversation you had about your curly haired friend he knew you had a crush on, even if you evidently liked him. 

“Shush.” You dismissed him, holding his face near yours, a kiss left on his lips, as you bit his lower one. “Let’s just stay here until the others come?” You pleaded, not wanting to think about it, not really ready to think about Eddie coming here right now. 

He answered with another kiss against your sun kissed skin, decidedly staying like this. Enjoying each other’s presence, soft touches and caresses. 

The last few weeks with Steve had been amazing, but Eddie had grown cold as soon as he heard that you seemingly had made your choice, even if you were far from it. 

Steve's words didn’t help. 

In your mind, Steve seemed excited with the idea of you making out, or whatever it was with his friend, as long as you kept doing it with him. It was a dangling temptation, a dream, a forbidden fruit that had all of a sudden become edible. 

You weren’t sure how much time had passed, you just knew Steve’s fingers were too busy tracing little drawings on your lower stomach, dangerously close to the edge of the thong that was part of your two piece. When all of a sudden your eyes opened from the noise that was coming out of the house. Eddie had arrived, accompanied by Nancy and Jonathan. The couple came out first. 

“Hey lovebugs!” Nancy screamed, her usual upbeat tone making Steve open his eyes, he waved back, you did the same movement, which made her chuckle. 

Eddie followed them closely, even in such warm weather, he still had his blue jeans on, only this time his white tank top let his arms out on the sun, you got lost in him for just a second. 

Eddie avoided your stare, got lost in your body instead. Robin clocked the way he swallowed, his muscles in his neck tensing as he tried not to look too much. It was hard, since he knew he could be the one holding you as near as he desired. 

Jonathan grabbed two beers, and offered one to Eddie, he felt compassion for him, just like Robin, he was used to being observant, and had known about Eddie’s feelings for a while, and he had been in the same situation, only he had a bit more luck. 

- 

The moment came where you decided to finally jump into the water, all of your friends deciding they wanted to stay dry, watching you as you floated in the pool. 

You were pretty good at knowing who was staring, even if they had the same coloured eyes, Eddie’s and Steve’s staring felt different. Eddie’s was full of regret, he had wanted to talk to you ever since you left the dance, Steve’s was full of hunger -at least while you looked like that, skin wet, and your hair framing your face in a way he’d call heavenly if asked.- though if you were honest, you felt a trace of desire in Eddie’s eyes everytime yours met. 

Robin had enough of that show, and even if she promised to herself she wouldn’t say anything, she needed to talk to someone, so she did. 

“Nance, can you help me get some wine?” She asked, a lift of the eyebrow and she understood she needed to speak to her. 

“Sure.” She added before following her into the house. 

Eddie and Jonathan stayed there, grinding some weed for later. Steve looked at them, and stood up, walking to the edge of the pool, sitting on it, waiting for you to come. 

Robin started rumbling as soon as they reached the kitchen. 

“I need to tell you something, but you can’t say anything. But if I don’t tell it to someone I’m gonna lose my mind” She was talking in a fast-paced manner that let Nancy know just how much she had been needing to talk. 

“Jesus okay. Breathe.” She said, pushing her shoulders down. “Now, shoot.” 

“I overhead the new couple at the prom.” She started, waiting for a nod from Nancy so she could continue. “Steve told her that he knows about Eddie’s feelings, and that he’s okay sharing? What does that even mean? Has he ever said something like that to you? Do you think… Maybe Steve wants to…?” 

Nancy’s eyes opened wide, at the amount of information and preceding questions she asked, her head working overtime to keep up with her friend. 

“He’s okay sharing as in…” 

“I think he wants her to make a move or something, so she can know for sure she wants to be with him but that’s just…” She didn’t dare to finish the sentence, not without implying something she’d hate for people to imply about herself. 

“Steve really has changed.” Nancy over enunciated, raising her eyebrows as she looked over for the wine. Robin erupted in laughter. 

“What do you think I should do?” She implored now, stepping in closer to her, grabbing some glasses for the white wine. 

“You? Nothing. I’m sure Eddie’ll catch on soon enough.” She pointed out, as she started to head out. “He’s practically drooling everytime she looks at her.” She joked as Robin chuckled, following her closely. 

At the same time, Jonathan looked at Eddie, and how concentrated he was on grinding the weed so he could smoke it. He knew Eddie was feeling a bit overwhelmed, and he knew how much it could help, so he stayed put, waiting for him to finish. 

“Look dude, I don’t really know you that much but uh… You’ve got something in your mind.. If you need to uh.. talk it out…” He offered, feeling incredibly embarrassed by that leap he was making, knowing Eddie had the right to blow him off. 

He didn’t. He looked up, nodding with a half smile as he mouthed a thanks. He looked over at Steve walking closer to you and the sense of urgency came back. 

“Pass me the paper, please?” He babbled, as his hand reached out. Grabbing it and starting to roll what would -hopefully- calm him down. “I just… I fucked it up.” He added, nodding at you, and the way you smiled as soon as you saw Steve. 

“Why’d you say that?” 

“She told me if she was supposed to wait for me forever, next thing I know, she’s kissing Steve.” He sputtered, a trace of hurt could still be felt on his voice. Jonathan gave him a reassuring touch on his shoulder. 

“That’s Steve… Though to be fair… You shouldn’t lose hope.” He recomforted him, looking at Nancy as she came back, a smile on his face. 

Talking of Steve he found his way to you. His legs on the water, moving it slightly, the waves hitting your body. You looked over at him, a smile wide on his face. 

You swam closer to him, instead of laying against the granite that circled the pool, you let your arms rest on his thigh, looking up at him with dreamy eyes. 

“Hi.” You beamed at him, the softness of your tone made him get even more lost into you. 

“Hi.” He echoed, one of his hands cupping your cheek, you gave in to the touch. “You should get out, Nancy went to get your favourite wine.”  You smiled deeply at him, he really did care for you. 

“Going.” You whisper as you find your way to the stairs, pushing your head down one last time, so the hair wouldn’t annoy you. 

Eddie caught that. And the way you walked out of the pool was enough for his cock to push against his zipper. He crossed his legs, enjoying the show a bit more, as he lit the joint he had been preparing. He got a bit lost, especially on the way your hair not only framed your face, but your breasts, that seemed to shine as water dropped out of them. It didn’t help that you were wearing white, he was going to lose his mind. 

Only this time, Steve caught him, a cheeky grin appearing on his face as he made eye contact with Eddie, who became flustered. Steve just nodded, and mouthed its fine. Eddie had never been more confused. 

“We’ve got your wine!” Robin cheered, as she raised a glass to you. You took a good sip of it, the lightness of it invading your mouth, a smile left on your lips. 

“Cheers.” You added, taking another taste. “I’ll just go change really quick.”You excused yourself, bending down a bit so you could put your drink down. It was torture for Eddie, who was trying extremely hard not to be too evident, but right now he just felt you were starting to tease him, bending over when that little fabric was covering you. 

Maybe you were. 

It was intoxicating, knowing that you did have that power over both of them. While Eddie was a bit too lost in your behind, Steve got lost in your chest, even if he was more taken aback with the eye contact you liked to keep. You walked slowly back into the house, up the stairs to the left where Steve’s room was. You grabbed one of his oversized white shirts, and a pair of faded, soft, basketball shorts that were too short on him, yet perfect for you. You found your way to the downstairs bathroom, knowing that you could hang your bikini there until it dries off, and that no one would really know -or care- if you were wearing underwear or not. 

You left the door ajar, it would only take a moment. 

The top part was changed in a swift movement, so was the down one. 

You looked at yourself in the mirror, your hair becoming a tangled mess, it would only get worse if you didn’t brush it off soon. You looked for one, something, anything, unsuccessfully. 

The door opened all of a sudden. Eddie was there, an apologetic look on his face. 

“Sorry, thought nobody was here.” He pleaded, as he started to close the wooden door. 

“It’s fine, I’m just looking for a hairbrush, then I’ll leave.” You tried to explain to him, not really wanting him to leave, fully aware that those were the first words you’ve exchanged. 

“You won’t reach it.” Eddie mumbled, walking back in. He closed the door, and opened the cabinet that was higher up, grabbing a little box that had various different combs on it. He grabbed the one that was better for your hair and looked at you. “D’you want me to…?” He gestured with his hands, up and down, a brushing motion. 

You nodded, your back now facing him, as you looked at your reflection in the mirror. Eddie looked back at you, your eyes meeting on the reflective surface. He pursed his lips, the high made everything feel ten times more intense. It was intoxicating enough being near you, getting to be this close to you made it hard for him to concentrate. 

You kept looking at him, and every move he made, the tension that was getting created in that little space growing larger and larger. A sense of electricity, of magnetism pulling you in closer, close enough that your waist touched his. He breathed out loudly, knowing this was getting a bit too much. But the small tugging in his pants only made your lip quiver with more confidence, he wanted this just as much as you did. You got on your tip-toes for a moment, just to go slowly down, your butt graceing his crotch slowly. You could see the way his eyes shut down for that moment, how his mouth opened, how his hands grabbed your hair and the brush harder, trying not to say anything. It was intoxicating. He finished brushing your hair, and he let the comb hit the floor. You made eye contact through the mirror once again, as he breathed in that loud manner again, shaking his head at you, struggling to let something out of his lips. 

“Dove… I…” He tried, your hands already on the back of his neck, pushing him in against you, you needed to feel him, as near as you could. 

“I do like you.” You confessed in between whispers, your fingers tugging his hair. “I just… I’m confused.” You admitted, your hips had started a little pattern, grinding against his crotch. A needines was beating on your chest, traveling all the way down to where you made contact with him. 

“Fuck…” And with that you knew what was coming. 

Eddie let out a moan out of hornyness and anger. He had wanted you for so long, he would be an idiot if he didn’t at least give you a kiss. 

Just one kiss, he told himself. 

His hands grabbed your waist tightly, turning you so you’d finally look at his eyes, not at a mirror, the brown of them almost gone, a hunger you were experiencing just as much as he was. Even if he was dying for more, he started kissing your cheek, a trembling hand grabbing your butt, messaging it, your leg lifting on instinct, pushing his crotch with yours, the feeling of the zipper messing with you, the soft fabric not protecting you much. He kept kissing your neck, and the little zone behind your ear, leaving soft moans every time his mouth left your skin. Once you were drunk on him, he cupped your face with one hand, the other still holding your butt firmly, and finally let your lips touch. You became one in that moment, your waist still moving, your hands scratching his back in an attempt to obtain more. You needed to drink every single drop of him. His hand started teasing at your behind, a smile when he noticed the lack of underwear, and just how sensitive you were. If he pushed the short upwards, the fabric touched you in a way that made you whimper. 

It wasn’t fair, you also deserved to play. 

Your hands left his back, travelled to his crotch, undoing the belt in a swift movement. The sound of the belt buckle made him snap back. 

That was more than one kiss. 

“We can’t…” He said, pulling strength from somewhere, he wasn’t sure where. 

“Steve doesn’t mind.” You tried to make him understand, unsuccessfully. 

“If I was him, I would want you all to myself.” 

-

The sun was setting, Nancy was half asleep into Jonathan’s arms, Robin was a bit too inebriated, laughing at every small detail she saw. 

It wasn’t difficult. 

When you came out of the bathroom, a flustered Eddie followed you minutes after. Steve looked at you with a puzzled look, and you just nodded. 

Now you were sitting between them both. 

Jonathan looked at Steve’s grip on your thigh, while your pinky was grabbing Eddie’s. He opened his eyes as soon as he understood. He gave Eddie a quick look, he just nodded in quiet disbelief. 

“I think we should go.” Jonathan said in a soft-spoken voice, brushing Nancy’s hair. 

“I’m way too wasted to drive.” Eddie muttered in response, a cheap excuse everyone noticed. He wasn’t ready to leave. 

Jonathan offered his hand, Eddie’s van keys fell onto his palm. 

“Okay then, we’ll go.” He stood up, helping Nancy up, gesturing to Robin to follow him. She looked back at the three of you, she struggled to hide a chuckle. 

“Fine… au revouir!” She teased as soon as she looked at you, your cheeks getting that pinkish tone to them again. You hid your face behind your palm, begging she was the only one out of them that understood the stupid joke. The shocked giggle out of Steve’s lips let you know he got it too. 

“I’ll walk with you to the door.” Steve added, off-handedly. As soon as he stood up and took a couple of steps, he looked at you over his shoulder, the prettiest smile on his face. 

It was a do whatever you need, a i want you to do it, a please do it. 

The type of look that drove you insane. 

Eddie lit up another spliff, standing up, your eyes looking up at him, all doe-like. If only you could read his mind, he thought. 

“I think I’ll go for a swim.” You were unsure if it was an invitation, or if he just needed some space, a moment to think it all well. 

Truth be told, Eddie was curious about what you’d do now, once he took his shirt off, careful not to burn anything, smoke still coming out of his mouth, a delightful picture you would keep in your mind for a long time. 

You hadn’t seen him shirtless. 

It was a sight to see, you thought. You knew he had muscles, you didn’t know his were somehow more defined than Steve’s. His chest was pale, decorated with ink, your fingers suddenly tingling the urge to trace over them, especially the one he had near his hip bone. 

Eddie enjoyed seeing you like that, for once you were the one thirsting over his body, your mouth half opened, having trouble taking your eyes off his chest, while yours all of a sudden raised faster. Your breathing quickening. 

His back was also well defined, framed by his hair swinging a bit with every step he took, his curls bouncing in an hypnotizing manner. 

He sat down on the steps of the swimming pool, his waist submerged in the water. He smiled as soon as he heard your cautious steps approaching him. You sat near him, your body not in the water, only your legs, looking at his side profile. You could draw him from memory alone, you realised. He didn’t say anything, he just looked at you, his usual grin that always made you smile back. He offered the joint to you, you shook your head, a drink still in your hand. 

“We’re swimming?” Steve proposed at the sight of you two, already taking his shirt off. 

Before any of you could answer, he had already jumped into the water, swimming back in the middle of you, taking the offer of the spliff Eddie had in between his fingers with a shrug. 

“I’m not wearing uh…” Your eyes darted nervously at Eddie, and the memory of his fingers discovering it just a few minutes ago. He did the same, his hand twitching as he made eye contact with you. 

“I’m sure Eddie won’t care.” He assured, his tone dropping a bit. The husky tone hypnotising you. Steve looked at the curly headed boy waiting for a response. He just scratched his chin, looking back at you, his eyelids half closed. “See, he doesn’t.” He gestured back at him, getting a bit closer to you. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to” He whispered, needing you to know he meant it, the softness of his words made you know he was telling the truth. 

As soon as you felt Steve’s hand on your thigh, and how good the water droplets falling from them felt on your skin, you opened your legs, letting him gain access, his hands finding the hem of your shorts rapidly, pulling them down softly. 

Eddie was hypnotised by it. The way your legs looked, the look of devotion you had for Steve, how confident you seemed, the shy soft smile in your face as you were enjoying his touch against your skin as the shorts became a faint memory. He looked attentive as Steve’s hands reached the end of your shirt, how his lips kissed your knee, eyes closed, how a soft moan escaped your lips. He felt himself grow, no longer restricted by his jeans. The spliff long forgotten by your side, his full attention in how more parts of you were revealed, as Steve slowly took your shirt off. The first thing he saw was the curvature of your back, your stomach following it closely. When he saw your breasts under the sunset, he realised he had never been as hard. You shook your head as soon as the shirt was off, your hair flowing freely. Your hand caressing Steve’s face, inching closer to him, leaving a sound kiss on his lips. He was trying to repress the urge he had of touching himself, it felt like he was looking at a private show, just for him. 

Steve helped you into the water, his hands holding tightly onto your waist, pulling you in slowly. Enjoying the sound you made as water hitted your full body. He had only eyes for you. His nose touched yours, asking for permission to kiss you once again, his bare chest hitting yours, you were the one who broke the distance, pushing into him with the usual care. Steve’s lips were soft, fitted with yours perfectly, you thought. 

Eddie couldn’t take it anymore. He had to touch himself. It was pathetic, he thought, you were making out in front of him, and he needed to touch himself, feeling like if he didn’t take it out, it would just start to hurt, so he did. He grabbed the waistband of his swimsuit down, already stroking his dick in a slow movement, when all of a sudden, you made eye contact with him, while you were still kissing Steve. You broke the kiss, yet Steve kept kissing your neck, one of his hands already on the small of your back, pushing your entrance to his erection. You moaned at the sight of him, and Eddie’s movements deepened. 

“You wanna kiss her?” Steve asked as soon as he opened his eyes, seeing the way Eddie looked at you, his cock still out. “Come.” He invited him, with a quick shake of his head. “She really wants you to do so, Munson.” That did it for him, that and the fact that you moaned as soon as you heard his last name, though maybe that had more to do with the way Steve’s fingers were teasing you now. 

He didn’t really waste that much time, he took off his swimsuit before coming into the water, not caring about anything else but the way your eyes looked at him, needing him. You felt his dick on your stomach, the hardness of it coming into contact with you thanks to the short distance. Eddie’s hands didn’t shake now, he was decided. They held your face, coping your cheeks in the way he had hoped to do so for so long, breaking the distance, as your lips found each other. Your tongues touching, finally, both of you thought, as your hands reached for his body, as did his. 

Steve was still enjoying himself, touching you, feeling how you squirm under his touch, your legs shaking a bit as he kept teasing, your clit missing him everytime he messed around. 

Eddie couldn’t stop kissing you, he was enjoying it maybe a bit much. He had never tasted something better, and he never wanted to. He wished in between kisses to remember this sensation forever, your hands on his body, fingers buried deep into his skin, begging for more as you moaned into his mouth. 

Your hands were dangerously low, but it didn’t matter. 

A sharp gasp escaped your lips as you felt Steve’s fingers reaching inside you, moving them slowly, each movement deeper than the last. 

“Please.” You begged, looking up at Steve, his hand reaching for your neck, leaving a thigh squeez before he kissed your cheek. “Please.” You whimpered again, looking outside the pool. 

Eddie understood, and followed closely. Steve pushed your body up, you were now sitting on the stone that circled the pool, your body slowly hitted the ground, legs hanging from the edge, grabbing Eddie’s hand so you’d have him near, your hand started messing with his pelvic bone, a few brushes, caresses and he was already doing that loud breathing that proved to drive you insane. 

Steve didn’t waste no time, grabbing the back of your legs, pushing your body closer to the edge, leaving kisses on your knee, then your upper thigh, the inside of it, everywhere his lips had access to, while his hand got a bit busy feeling you, and the wetness of your entrance. 

Eddie brushed your hair behind your ear, before diving in for a kiss, his lips touching yours, just so he could have an excuse to start kissing your neck, hearing you make such pretty noises that close to his ear was something he never thought he would be able to. To be fair, he moaned as soon as your hand wrapped around his dick, starting the slow movement, he smiled in between kisses as you kept it going. 

The combination of it all; Eddie moaning your name that close to your ear, your whole body filled with goosebumps, as Steve started kissing your clit, it made you arch your back. 

“You’re sensitive today.” Steve teased, as his lips went back to the spot that was driving you mad, one of his fingers starting to make his way inside you, you felt him smile as he heard you moan at that. 

“Jesus sweetheart…” Eddie breathed out, a groan escaping the back of his throat, his voice was the lowest you had ever heard. “If you keep touching me like that, making those sounds…” He couldn’t even finish the sentence. 

He saw the way you smiled proudly at the praise, your teeth biting your lower lip, while you breathed heavily, he had to kiss you again, that way he knew you’d be moaning into eachothers’ mouths.

Once Steve had three fingers inside you, his movements finding the perfect pace, his mouth all over you, legs shaking while his head was in between he could tell you were close, Eddie’s hands stroking your body helping in that. Speaking of, he looked at him, he could also tell he was trying not to come, not yet. He stopped eating you out, his head resting on your tight. 

“You wanna…?” He asked you first, nodding to him. He could tell you did, just by the way your eyes shined as soon as he asked, he had to hide a giggle once he looked at Eddie who was concentrating on something else. 

“Edds” You begged, moaning his name. It made him tilt his head backwards a bit, your hand still tightly wrapped around his dick. “Can you fuck me?” He had to bite the inside of his lips so he wouldn't come right then. His hands grabbing your legs, turning your body to him, so your entrance would be at his level was enough confirmation. Before Eddie started, while he was admiring you in all your glory, you looked deep into Steve’s eyes, your hand finally dropping his swimsuit, stroking him. A hunger in your eyes before you asked “Can I?” 

He nodded. 

Then he looked around, knowing that it would be more comfortable for you if you were on the couch. 

“Inside.” He groaned, looking at you first, then turning to Eddie. 

Before you knew it, Eddie was sitting on the couch, too much in a hurry to care if it became a bit wet, his hands got lost in your waist, kissing the zone between your belly button and your cunt, your skin reacting to every touch, pulling you in softly, slowly. While Steve was next to you, his hand still touching your clit, getting you warmed up for Eddie, as your hand curved around his cock, stroking it. 

You noticed, while Eddie was longer, Steve was wider. Both of them large, though Eddie’s curved a bit, you knew that would be something you’d like, and you were eager to prove it to yourself. 

Your free hand touched Eddie’s chin, making him look up at you, his gaze into yours, lowering as you sat on top of him. 

You both moaned as he entered you, you made your way down slowly, fully wrapping around him, a sensation you were sure you could never forget. His hand grabbing your waist, guiding you gracefully. You left a quick kiss on his lips, before turning to find Steve. 

He waited for you to guide him, he knew just how overstimulating everything must be, as much as he wished for you to do something right now, he waited, patiently, stroking his own erection as he looked at you, and the way you bounced on top of Eddie’s cock. 

You pulled him in, his knees on the couch, his body sitting where the head usually rests, his hand petting your hair, you didn’t waste that much time, filling your mouth with him. 

“Honey…” He blurted, having trouble articulating words. “You’re taking both of us so well.” He praised, as he started to pull your hair, your head following the movements, effectively mouthfucking you at the pace he wished, a series of profanities falling from his mouth. 

“You really are.” Eddie added, his hands pulling you in deeper, your eyes closing out of pure pleasure, as his cock pushed into you, a rhythm you felt right in your stomach. 

Eddie couldn’t help himself, he started with just a thigh squeeze, just to end up slapping your ass, the sound of the clapping only turning you on faster. Eddie was so close, his arms wrapped around you, in complete devotion. You took a second, continuing to work on Steve with your hand to kiss Eddie, Steve’s precum still on your throat, but he didn’t care. He needed you there, his forehead against yours, his mouth moaning and half screaming your name. 

“I’m not gonna last long.” He said, drunk on you from head to toe. 

“I want you…” You started, having to gather some air before continuing, you could feel his dick ripping you deeper every time he reentered, his hand pushing you deeper into him every time you did. “To come, please, Eddie, please.” You ended begging in a whimper, that did it for him. 

You kissed him, before your head fell into his shoulder, biting him as you felt the way his muscles flexed around you, his head falling backwards.

“Shit” Eddie groaned as soon as he felt himself come, deep on you, looking deep in your eyes, a smile evident in them. Steve didn’t even think about it before doing it, once he made eye contact with him, his lips were on his, a soft kiss that needed to happen. Eddie’s hands still on the small of your back, Steve’s on the back of your neck. 

“Hot.” You whispered, making you all three laugh, breaking the soft tension that was in the air. 

You got off, Eddie groaned as he felt you leave, he didn’t want you to ever leave his side. You looked back at Steve, he knew what you wanted, no words needed. He nodded, before kissing you again, his hands pulling you a bit closer to him, before turning you over. 

Your stomach laid on the couch cushions, your ass high as he could get it, a sight he loved if he was honest, only this time your head rested on Eddie’s lap, while he brushed your head, Eddie’s brown eyes looking up at Steve, another sight to be seen he thought. He took a moment to take it in, before his hands grabbed your waist, helping them find his way inside you, a moan of pure delight as you felt him. You bite Eddie’s thigh, careful not to moan too loud. 

The sight of Steve fucking you, you trying desperately not to scream as he moved slowly, filling you up wider that he had, the small kisses and bites you were leaving on his skin were enough for him to get hard again, and you took that opportunity gladly, your tongue on the tip of his dick, licking tentatively, as you heard him groan at the feeling of you playing with him, his hands on his head, already overstimulated. Steve took that as what it was, and he went in harder, and harder, and harder. 

“That’s it, you’re doing so good baby.” He moaned, his fingers turning white as he held you, no doubt leaving a mark on your body. 

“Shit…” Eddie moaned again, as your lips opened wider, swallowing him deeper and deeper. “You’re… fuck you’re amazing.” He struggled to say as he whimpered, the praise only making you go in ways he never imagined. 

Steve felt how your walls were closing, a clear indication you were getting exactly where he wanted you to be, his nails digging in your skin, in the kind of way he knew drove you insane, your back arched even more, letting him get deeper than he ever had. 

“Eddie” Steve said, looking at him, his eyes were half gone once he looked back. “Touch her, she’s close.” 

You confirmed as much, whining while your mouth was still filled with Eddie’s cock, your left hand stroking him at the same pace as Steve was fucking you. 

As soon as you felt Eddie’s fingers on your clit, the coldness of the rings only making you enjoy it even more, you knew you weren’t gonna last long. Eddie felt it too, you were struggling to concentrate on sucking him off, so he pulled himself out of your mouth, kissing you instead. 

“I rather hear you, sweetheart.” He whispered into your ear.

“Keep doing that, please.” You begged at both of them. 

They did, somehow with the same rhythm, Eddie’s hand knew exactly how to touch you, while the other one was touching himself. Steve kept fucking you, the sound of your body hitting his was magic, you thought. Symphonies could be written with the way it all sounded, Eddie praising you, guiding you through it, Steve’s groaning your name as he pushed in and out, and you being as loud as you wanted to. 

It didn’t take long before Steve felt it, your legs thigting, the sharp intake of your breathing, your hand closing in a fist. 

“You can come, honey.” He groaned, as he too felt himself not being able to hold it for much longer. 

“Please.” Eddie added, as he too wasn’t gonna last that much more. 

You did, your back arched as you felt Steve hit you for a couple more times before the warmness filled you up, leaving every inch of your skin he could find covered with kisses. Eddie came, the cum falling in his stomach and hand. 

“Jesus…” Eddie muttered, as he let his body fully relax. 

“Yeah…” Steve added, pulling out of you, pulling you in for a hug as soon as his body hitted the couch. 

You melted into his arms, nudging Eddie to come closer. He did with a half smile, you enjoyed Steve’s caressing of your skin whilst your fingers got lost into Eddie’s hair. 

“Robin’s gonna kill me when I tell her…” Eddie muttered, before realising that he wasn’t sure if you were going to tell people about it. 

“What will you tell her?” Steve asked, as if he could read his thoughts. Not in an inquisitive tone, more of a curious one. 

“Tell her you went to Paris.” You half joked, a giggle escaping your lips. “She already knows, I’m sure.” You let the two confused men know. 

“Does she?” Steve’s curiosity piked, you nodded, leaving a kiss on his chest.

“She said I should visit it right before the dance.” You let them know. 

“Well, thanks Robin.” Eddie laughed, intertwining your fingers with yours. 

“Are you staying over?” Steve asked at Eddie, you could sense a bit of hopefulness in his tone. 

“If you let me.” 

“We should go to bed then, comfier.” Steve added, the biggest smile on his face. “Maybe we’ll do this again.” He finished with a kiss on the top of your head.

[i-watch-the-beees]

happy early valentine’s day!!! here is a drawing i did for the vday exchange for @tinkerbclla inspired by their fic “roommate wanted.” this fic made me literally yell at my phone i love it so much

[hairmetal666]

It starts in Eddie's second senior year, close to the beginning of the semester. Eddie's in trig (again). He's good at math, but Mundy fucking sucks, always giving Eddie shit for breathing, or his shoes squeaking on the linoleum, or whatever, and he ends up with detention most days. So, he hardly ever shows and can't be bothered to do the homework, even though he knows the answers more often than not.

On this particular day, Mundy is in a bad mood, on Eddie's case way more than normal. In the heat of frustration, Eddie scrawls, "I fucking hate this class" on a scrap of notebook paper, and for reasons he can't begin to explain, leaves it folded on the window ledge. He doesn't think anyone will answer; fully expects the paper to be gone come morning with maybe another detention slip under his belt to show for it. He's a little flabbergasted, the next day, when the note is still there, and loses his mind a little when he sees the words "tell me about it" underneath his first message. He doesn't recognize the handwriting, sloping and a little looped, and for most of the class period, he's too bemused to respond. Right before the final bell rings he scrawls, "trig. You?" He leaves the paper on the ledge again. "Algebra 2 :(" is the response.

They keep it up, just a few words at first, before Eddie accidentally doodles on the page, and the other guy scribbles a hasty formula, the math spectacularly wrong. There's a little arrow leading to the words, "this shit sucks." Eddie re-writes the formula with the correct math, leaving careful notations of how and why. The next day he sees, "Shit, dude, I totally get this now. Mundy should retire and let you take over." Which pleases Eddie down to his core.

The messages get longer, nothing super personal, but complaints about life, math help, Eddie's silly little doodles, bad jokes, the slightly lewd drawings typical of teen boys. Eddie's never had a better attendance record in his life, but there are some days where his notes are left unopened. Most remarkably a couple week period before Thanksgiving, where he goes unanswered for so long he figures whatever thing they had going is done. But after the holiday, the notes start up again, with no acknowledgement they ever stopped. Eddie doesn't bother questioning it.

They keep it up almost all year, and they're definitely friends, even though they're totally anonymous. And that wouldn't have changed, except it's the day before spring break and Eddie's vibrating out of his skin with anticipation of the time off, so he forgets his dnd notebook in Mundy's class. He makes it all the way to Click's before he realizes, then sprints back across the school. He crashes through Mundy's door, tripping a little over his own feet.

"Sorry," he pants. "I just left--" he looks over to his desk, far corner right by the window, and then forgets every word he's ever known because Steve Harrington Steve Harrington King Steve, stares right back at him. And he just. He stops and fucking laughs, because all this time--this whole goddamn year--it's been Harrington he exchanged notes with. And sure, the jock's star has fallen in the last few months, with the breakup with Nancy and all that shit with Hargrove, but it's still Steve Harrington. With his big house and his fancy car and his girls. It's pretty Steve Harrington, the focus of Eddie's most hopeless daydreams.

He has a few seconds to see Harrington's hazel eyes go wide, before Eddie spins on his heel and makes a hasty exit. He absolutely doesn't spend the break thinking about the notes, matching what Harrington wrote with the gossip Eddie heard on him from the past few months.

Once break ends, he doesn't bother going to Mundy's class at all.

The Friday of the first week back, Eddie walks out to his van, only to find King Steve leaning up against it. He's doing that obnoxious thing where he has one leg bent, foot resting against the side panel, arms crossed over his chest, stupid hair falling in glorious cascades around his face. It's ridiculously, unfairly attractive.

"What do you want?" Eddie asks. He opens his front door without fully looking at Steve.

"Can we talk?"

Eddie snorts, "what could you and I possibly have to talk about."

Steve narrows his eyes. It's so bitchy and so fucking cute it makes Eddie queasy. "You know what."

"Enlighten me, Harrington."

"C'mon, man, the notes!"

"What about them?

"Don't be stupid, Munson, you know what. Why'd you stop?"

Eddie pulls a pack of camels and his lighter out of his jacket pocket. "Lost its appeal once I knew who was on the other side. Surprised you even want to keep it up now that you know you've been writing to the freak."

He pointedly ignores the little jolt Harrington gives at that, like the words hurt. Which is pretty rich from Steve Harrington, former #1 bully of Hawkins High.

"I've always known it was you," he says.

"You don't--wait what?"

I've known since, like, the first week, Munson."

"How??"

"What do you mean 'how,' dude, you're always drawing little pentagrams and d20's. Writing the word "Slayer" over and over. Who else would it be?"

And he can't even deal with the fact that Harrington knows what a d20 is (what the fuck) with everything else the other boy just said.

"I gotta go," is his only response. He ducks into his van, slamming the door basically in Harrington's face, before peeling out of the parking lot.

✏️✏️✏️✏️

It's the last day of school. Eddie's failed again. His grades, which weren't great to begin with, took a sharp nosedive after spring break, and he just can't wait to be done with this place for a few months. Harrington hasn't spoken to him again, and Eddie tries his hardest to ignore the other boy (aside from seeing him hanging out with Robin Buckley, a junior and a band geek, besides, and he forcibly has to remind himself that he doesn't care what Harrington does).

He slouches into his last math class of the year, slumping over in his seat. He rests his head on his desk, eyes blankly staring out the window as Mundy talks about what a joy most of them were to have in class. His eyes are unfocused, he contemplates a nap, and then he sees it. The tightly folded piece of paper resting on the window ledge.

Eddie almost doesn't take it. He almost ignores it, but he physically can't stop himself for reaching for it, unfolding it, staring at Harrington's now familiar handwriting.

Hey man, I'm pretty sure I fucked things up with us, and I owe you an apology. I've always known who you were, but you had no idea I was me. Buckley helped me see how that maybe freaked you out a little. I know I used to be a piece of shit. But I'm better--or I'm trying to be. And I'm so fucking sorry for the shit I did to you before and the things I didn't bother to stop. You don't owe me forgiveness, but you should know that I regret all of it. I liked passing notes with you. You made me laugh, and I don't know. It was nice to think someone liked me for reasons other than that I'm Steve Harrington, or whatever. I'd really like it if we could be friends. I get if you can't do that or don't want to.

Whatever the note actually ended with is scribbled out in pen so thick Eddie can't make it out.

All day he thinks about the note, the apology, all of it. Eddie thinks, if he's smart, he won't forgive Harrington. That he knows better than to trust him. But Eddie's never actually been that smart in this way, so he's not totally surprised to find himself walking to Steve's car after the last bell rings.

This time, Eddie's the one with his foot resting on the side panel of Steve's BMW, arms crossed over his chest. He doesn't have to wait long before Harrington makes his way to the car, chestnut hair dancing in the breeze, biceps on display in a short-sleeve polo. A little smile dances across his lips when he spots Eddie.

"So, you gonna tell me how you know what a d20 is, Harrington, or do I have to guess?" Eddie offers the other boy a cigarette.

"Babysitting?

"Babys--Are you serious??" Eddie splutters. Steve Harrington babysits. Steve Harrington babysits little dnd playing nerds. Steve Harrington wants to be his friend.

A full grin spreads across Steve's perfect face and Eddie is absolutely, 100%, fucked.

(Part 2)

(Steddie Notes is now posted in full on ao3!)

[estrellami-1]

If I Should Stay

Part 1 | . . . | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11

Nancy gets back with Jonathan not too long after. He barges in and makes a beeline straight for Steve. “You know where Will is?”

Steve nods. “There’s a lot to explain.”

“Then you’d better start soon.”

Robin, his savior, steps in. “C’mon, Jonny-boy, let’s go for a walk.” She leads him outside, and Steve can hear her start. “What do you know about time travel?”

He smiles and looks around. He can hear Eddie upstairs, practicing the song. The boys are occupied with planning, Nancy’s looking over Mike’s shoulder, and El’s watching him with big brown eyes. He focuses on her and lets his smile grow. “Wanna help me make dinner?”

Her eyes widen a little, but she nods. “What are we making?”

“Probably sandwiches,” he shrugs. “I’m not sure what else I have. Can you find the bread in the pantry? And there’s butter knives in that drawer over there, we’ll need two.” He winks. “One for you, and one for me.”

She does so, and he pulls out the condiments and lunch meats, as well as the jelly. “And the peanut butter, if you can find it,” he calls from where his head’s stuck in the fridge. He looks around for anything else he might need and grabs the pickles before closing the door.

“Y’know the best part about making dinner?” He asks her, impish grin growing on his face. She hums inquisitively. “We get to make ours first and eat while we make the rest.”

She giggles and accepts the high five he holds out.

They get to work assembling sandwiches. She pauses, mayonnaise slathered halfway onto a piece of bread. “Steve?” He hums. “I’m scared.”

He sighs and puts down his knife. “I am too, El. Terrified, if you can believe it. But I have faith in us. I know we can do it.” He wipes his hands off and rounds the counter, taking her hands in his. “You are the strongest person I’ve ever met in my life. Even stronger than Vecna. And this time he won’t know we’re coming. We’ll have the element of surprise on our side, and we will defeat him. We’ll find Will and Barb, and after this we’ll never have to worry about it again.” He strokes a hand over her head and sighs. “There’s something else, too. I know where Papa is.”

She pulls back, eyes wide, posture stiff. “Whoa, hey, it’s okay,” he soothes. “I’m not going to take you back there. Ever. Okay?”

She nods hesitantly, but allows him to pull her closer again. “I was going to ask if you want us to take care of him,” he murmurs. “Lock him inside and set the building on fire, or something.”

She shakes her head. “He loves me!”

“Oh, El,” Steve whispers. “I thought the same thing of my parents for a long time. No matter how mad they got, how much they yelled, how much they hurt me… they said it, so it must be true, right? They must love me. I must be the problem.” He shakes his head. “That’s not love. You fear him, El, and for good reason. He made you into what you are, but you never asked for this, and it’s okay to be angry about it.” She looks up at him with wide eyes, and he sighs. “I’ll give you some time to think about it,” he murmurs. “If the answer is still no, that’s okay. But if you change your mind, that’s okay, too.”

She nods, steps out of the hug. He lets her go, feeling like he’s almost knocked a vase off a table. His heart’s still thumping oddly, eyes wide, scared to make the wrong move.

But then she looks up at him and offers him a small smile. “Thank you,” she says. “I know the way you treat me is different from how Papa treats me. I do not know yet if they are simply different forms of love or if you are right. I think you are, but…”

“You need to see for yourself,” Steve nods. Moves the metaphorical vase back from the edge of the table. “Let me know if there’s any way I can help prove it.”

“I will,” she says, and picks up her butter knife again, spreading mustard onto a piece of bread. He goes back to his side and smiles at her.

“Steve?” She asks after a second. “When my hair grows back. What does it look like?”

He thinks for a second. “It’s fluffy,” he says. “Very soft and light. Like cotton candy.” He puts his head to one side. “Floofy,” he decides, and grins.

She giggles. “Like you!”

He opens his mouth to tell her no, she’s wrong, except… he can’t. “Yours is even more beautiful,” he tells her. “And kids in school nicknamed me ‘the Hair’. That’s how famous this was.” He tilts his head her direction, and a lock of hair falls in his face. He splutters and shakes his head, grinning when she laughs again.

“I am very glad you came back, Steve,” she says suddenly, seriously, a little at odds with the smile still quirking her lips up.

His heart breaks and mends all in the same second. It feels like absolution. “Me too,” he says, and means it.

Permanent Taglist: @justforthedead89 @ilovecupcakesandtea @madigoround @bookbinderbitch @suddenlyinlove @nburkhardt @artiststarme @paintsplatteredandimperfect @i-less-than-three-you @alyelf @quarble @messrs-weasley @littlewildflowerkitten @vankaar @starman-jpg @bornonthesavage @steddie-there @goodolefashionedloverboi @andienotannie @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @platinum-sunset @just-ladyme @steddiestains @swimmingbirdrunningrock @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @martinskis-lydias @notaqueenakhaleesi @sleepyboosstuff @bestwifehaver @m-owo-n @thatonebadideapanda @finalmoondragon @velocitytimes2 @callmeanythjing @ajeff855 @ilikeititspretty @knitsforthetrail @sillysparrow @that-one-corvid @ace-is-bored @local-writers-corner @harpymoth @weirdandabsurd42

Fic Taglist: @blondlanfear @do-you-want-something-more @str4wb3rry-guy @paperbackribs @ninjapirateunicorns @bisexualdisastersworld @hiscrimsonangel @lolawonsstuff @xo-r4e @thedragonsaunt @l0st-strawberry

[artgroves]

artset for You were not born here (but this is where you belong)

Story by @fabelds-blog for @steddiebang Art by @artgroves Rating: M Fandom: Stranger Things Relationships: Eddie Munson / Steve Harrington Word Count: 40K Tags: Canon AU, slow burn

Summary: In the months after the Starcourt fire, Eddie Munson takes on three new challenges: finishing his torturous summer assignment, running Reefer Rick’s operation, and his renewed crush on a reformed Steve Harrington.

On AO3

[hitlikehammers]

Post S4!Eddie Needs a Little Help

Good thing Steve's such an excellent nurse boyfriend? friend, huh?

I Could Be Your Nurse (or something)

Or: Five Times Eddie Has To Ask For Help, Plus One Time He Doesn’t Need It Anymore (but asks anyway) ✨ for @penny00dreadful 💜

🧊 one: drink 🧊

The first thing he clocks, when he surfaces back to the land of the living: he can’t move his fucking arms.

At first, he thinks he’s locked up, restrained somehow: cuffed, but he can’t even know that, he can’t even check because he can barely fucking move at all, he—

“Eddie,” he hears his name through white noise that’s tunneling his vision, that’s caving in with every blow his pounding heartbeat deals to the walls as they close closer—there’s beeping like a time bomb in the background but it’s not just his name, it’s the voice that speaks it: it cuts through. It bolsters the walls and shelters him from collapse as his eyes dart wild, seeking out the sound.

“Breathe,” plush lips and earnest eyes coax him, and Eddie feels his own eyes widen because: Steve goddamn Harrington.

Here.

“You can breathe, okay,” Steve’s saying and his eyes are bigger now, there’s a pleading in his tone and Eddie sees it happen before any sensation, any feeling comes with it: Steve’s got Eddie’s hand in his, cups it to his chest but never breaks from holding Eddie’s gaze and the first thing Eddie thinks he feels as a touch is the warm pressure of the chest under their joined hands lifting almost-too-strong, almost-too-full.

The things Eddie feels that have nothing to do with his five fucking senses—he’ll work those out later.

“Come on, with me, with me, yeah?” and Steve’s breathing deep and even and forced for it, keeping a punishingly intentional sort of time and Eddie realizes oh, hey, right: he does need to breathe and so the next thing that he feels is the tail-end of pain, sneaking up under a fog that hints at any to come when whatever’s blanketing the feeling gets lifted, taken away, but then Eddie’s zeroing in on Steve’s face again, gasping a little and fuck, but it hurts: but Steve.

Steve’s smiling at him, in a way Eddie doesn’t know he’s ever seen before; definitely never felt before for the way it points a direct hit to his sternum, all fuzzy and sunrise-gold, and he doesn’t know if it helps him or hurts him in trying to breathe, to get the rhythm back to is but it sure as shit kicks at his heart and he thinks that punches his lungs hard enough to do…something, because Steve’s smile just grows, and the warm-gold-glow starts to spread through Eddie as something bigger and brighter and fuller than the pain as Steve exhales once out-of-sync and Eddie feels it, how Steve presses his hand tighter to his chest for it and laughs a little around one single word:

“Yeah,” and then it’s back to deep breaths, carefully measured, and Eddie wants Steve to talk again, but his head’s getting clearer, his lungs remembering how to work right, and he feels things under his hand now where he didn’t before: soft sweater. Rabbit-quick heartbeat.

“Steve,” Eddie chokes it, drags the word across gravel and bleeds it out and he’s disgusted in an instant, horrified by the sound coming out of himbut before he can let the terror and the hurt swallow him, he sees Steve, who somehow found a way to grin broader, shine brighter.

“Hey,” he laughs it out with so much goddamn relief, so much feeling, that Eddie can’t help but melt into it; Steve must feel something in him, or maybe he just knows, because he’s gathering Eddie’s hand, flattening it as a palm against his chest to keep breathing, keep breathing, but then he’s reaching and there’s a gentle whisper of touch against Eddie’s left cheek, and it stings, and he knows he should feel more but it’s…it’s goodeven as it aches and he leans, fuck, he doesn’t think twice before he leans.

“God, it’s good to hear your voice,” Steve says and it’s so warm and honest and it’s fucking laughable because Eddie sounds goddamn abysmal, and his throat tries to push the laughter, even if it’s poorly placed, even if nothing really feels fucking funny about anything but the effort’s like sandpaper on glass, wretched and violent, and Steve’s eyes widen when Eddie flaps at his neck, but he’s already reaching for the side of the bed, and—

“Water?” He asks, holding up a pitcher and a clear plastic cup and Eddie bites his tongue, tries to remember breathing without Steve’s guiding hand and he almost manages as he nods and then tries to reach when Steve places the pitcher, cup in his hand but Eddie’s hand…

He can’t lift it right. His vision’s either totally fucked, or his hand is tremoring hard enough to make him dizzy. He can’t feel anything, again. He—

“Eddie?” Steve’s voice is careful, gentle, but it’s firm: like it knows it’ll find steel to press against when Eddie meets his gaze and makes himself listen: he wants the glass. He can’t…he can’t reach for it, let alone hold it, let alone get the water to his mouth, and not all over everywhere else for the shaking. He doesn’t know if he’d feel the width and weight of the cup, or the wetness of the spill: he’s a mess, he’s broken, he’s totally fucked, what even if this, what is he, is this what it means to have survived, what is wrong with him—

“Look at me.”

Steve’s got that tender-pressed iron in his tone, the command less grating where it would make Eddie seethe—still does, the slightest bit but so far beneath everything else; beneath a sense of being cared for, being held close and then Steve’s hand is reaching for Eddie’s face again, brushing along his cheek and oh.

Oh, tears. He, he was—

“We almost lost you, Eds,” and it’s Steve that sounds choked for it, his voice wet and weeping with it and eyes gleaming just a little too bright and Eddie’s pulse trips to see it: proof that he means something. Proof that the wild things Eddie’d let himself imagine in the past days, in what he was so fucking sure were his last moments at all: they might still be wild, but they might also be things he’ll get to touch just an edge of, a gentle mercy of the corner of the things he spun up in his head.

“We almost lost you,” Steve says it again, and it’s sounds just as gutted, fucking…heartbroken, and for what, for Eddie? He, it’s—

“And you’re on a lot of medications, and you have a lot of injuries, and some of it’s gonna just take time and some of it’s gonna take more work, but Eddie,” Steve tilts his head, leans in and Eddie can feel the body heat of him from the chest on out: “Eddie, we are all here to help you, okay? No questions asked, we’re here to help,” and Steve’s eyes are a piercing kind of starfield, deep-dark but lightened by the fire burning: kinda mesmerizing even before he speaks again:

“Because we love you, all of us love you, and we are so fucking relieved you’re still here,” and there’s no question in it, no hesitation or resistance: it’s wholly felt and believed and Eddie reels a little for it because how and why, and the idea of all of them, and of Steve being included in the all-of-them, and love, of any kind, but love being a word no one fucking uses for a thing that’s small, or weak, or fleeting and just, just…

“And it’s not charity, or obligation, or pity,” and it’s like Steve can read him, can see his soul, the worst endings to the story that had drowned him in an instant when he couldn’t feel his fingers, when he couldn’t grasp a goddamn cup, before he could even stop to consider that he was already in the best possible ending, either way.

Because it was one he was still here to see.

“Kinda the opposite, really,” Steve’s slipping his fingers between Eddie’s atop his sweater; “because it kinda hurts when we’re not here to see you being okay,” and it’s so earnest, so sincere when he says it, when his voice goes low and faint like he doesn’t want to tempt the universe by letting it hear an unthinkable possibility that they’d dodged to by the skin of their teeth, but by the skin on their bones as sacrifice, scars to match and all:

“It hurts to be anywhere but here, where you’re okay, when we were so fucking afraid you wouldn’t be.”

And doesn’t that fucking sear for the slap of it in his face; doesn’t that goddamn sing in his veins that still have blood pumping through them, Jesus H. Christ.

“So,” Steve leans forward, draws Eddie’s touch somehow closer, has to almost be painful when all Eddie can process above the fog and the warmth is the breadth of Steve’s chest, and the thrum of his heartbeat as real-real-real, and there for Eddie to anchor himself in as being real, too.

“Will you let me help?”

Eddie’s eyes dart to where Steve’s placed the cup back on the side table, and has a hand near it waiting: for permission. He’s giving Eddie a choice, and there’s a version of Eddie, in a version of events not so far from these, here, but then so far from these here, that would fight harder at the idea of being coddled, of being invalided and made purposeless, fucking pointless for being wholly ripped of his ability to care for his own needs and wants, but this…

This isn’t that version.

So he nods, and Steve lets out a sigh Eddie can map from inhale to release, and he smiles like it’s a gift to him that Eddie lets him do this, lets him lift the lip of the cup to Eddie’s lips, careful and Eddie can feel it rest on tender flesh, something torn there too like so much else of him, and he drinks like manna from a heaven he doesn’t believe in, save that he thinks there’s something angelic, something godly in the tenderness of Steve’s movements, of his eyes on Eddie, of his heartbeat under Eddie’s touch: just him, there, present.

Like all the idly musings he’d allowed himself in the dark of a hellscape, in the moments he’d thought for sure would be his last: like those fleeting little fantasies may not have legs for themselves, but could grow into something just as good, or better even.

Because maybe they’ll be something true.

“Thank you,” Eddie manages to say, and it’s a whisper but it’s not something out of a horror film, so it’s an improvement after five careful swallows and Steve’s deft hand to wipe his bottom lip.

“Thank you for letting me,” Steve’s foolish enough, perfect enough to say; “it helps me, too.”

How, though? How, and more: how are they here like this, in this moment? Just—

“How’d I get out?” It’s an easier question to ask, so he feints that way instead.

“We carried you out.”

Vague.

“Who did?”

Steve only blinks, but his heart thumps an extra beat against Eddie’s fingertips.

“I did.”

Of course he did. Of course it was him.

“You’re,” Eddie licks his lips, closes his eyes; tries to figure out if he needs more water to keep going: no. No, he can do this.

“You’re okay?” he turns his hand just a slightest bit, doesn’t want to stop touching Steve but wants to press his hand to Steve’s the other way ‘round.

“Bats,” he manages to mouth, and Steve’s got the water to his lips again, now, carefully portioning his sips as he answers:

“Getting there, but I’m fine.”

Eddie wants to roll his eyes. Eddie wants to hold Steve to his chest and check his wounds himself. Eddie wants…

“Everyone else? Dustin?” he follows up because he can guess; Steve wouldn’t be so calm if something terrible had come of the battle, but still. “And—”

“Healing,” Steve’s quick to answer the half-formed questions, knows what Eddie’s concerned with most without trying and maybe it’s obvious, probably yeah it is but it feels warm in him again, through him like honey, thick and slow and sweet. “Max has got a rough road ahead, and it’s touch-and-go, because we’re pretty sure the things that are still wrong with her are tied up in Vecna,” Eddie frowns; regrets it for the pull and why is sensation coming back for hurting; “we didn’t wipe him out entirely, we lost this battle,” but then Steve’s hand is closer against his cheek: he doesn’t know if he leaned in or his Steve moved nearer but it doesn’t matter because Eddie will hurt far more than this, will take feeling for all it’s highs and lows, will claim it back and clutch it close if he also gets to feel Steve.

“But maybe more it’s like a draw, really, because it could have been such a bigger loss,” and Steve’s voice catches, and so does his breath where Eddie’s hand’s still charting; his pulse trips and Eddie frowns deeper, fuck the pain of it and whatever real damage it does above the waves of heavy narcotics, Steve’s eyes have gone glassy and his throat’s working harder around something thick, difficult, and the hand holding Eddie’s to Steve’s chest is rubbing the skin at his wrist near-raw for how hard and how metronomic it’s digging against Eddie’s veins, and his mouth’s parted and he’s staring at Eddie like—

Oh.

Oh, that’s what he meant, about…bigger losses.

Well, shit.

“And there’s still hope, y’know?” Steve’s voice comes quiet in comparison to where it was before but it’s still music. Still beautiful.

Eddie tries to swallow, wet his mouth on his own but he can’t so he turns eyes that can’t possibly look short of pleading, now, and blinks toward the cup at the bedside and Steve’s on it in an instant, easing it to Eddie’s mouth and tipping gently, painstaking in its care until Eddie pulls back and steels himself to try again with words, because these ones, he needs the to come out strong, and right:

“We’ll win the war.”

It’s scratchy, and probably more motion than sound but: it’s there, and it’s full and solid and Steve fucking beams for it:

“Yeah,” Steve speaks it like it’s fact, or like in saying it he’ll seal it as law and Eddie believes it just as sure, too, so:

“Yeah, we will.”

They will. They will.

They sit like that for a while, and Eddie feels the exertion of doing very little at all start to creep up on him and he must shift, or make a sound he can’t quite pick up himself to notice because Steve’s quick to jump:

“What else do you need?”

And Eddie’s drifting, and he doesn’t want to be a bother, a burden—useless—but Steve’s looking at him…the way Steve is looking at him?

It kinda prickles behind Eddie’s eyes, so he closes them, which feels like such a goddamn loss because then he can’t see Steve and he, he just…

“Can you,” Eddie starts to bite his lower lip but the sting rips through at the first hint of pressure so he bites at the tip of his tongue instead, and Steve’s already settling him; he never sat up, not truly, but Steve’s making sure he’s laid flat and comfortable, pillows arranged just so and Eddie can barely manage to pat the mattress when Steve retreats, but Steve knows him for that innocent gesture, too: grabs for his hand and Eddie remembers breathing well enough, now, to sigh in contentless, in fucking relief for the touch.

“Couldn’t feel,” he rasps a little; “hands, arms, when I first,” and then he opens his eyes, and locks gazes with Steve and forgets, for a second; forgets again, about the breathing.

And it’s okay; he’s okay with forgetting.

“Would it,” Eddie struggles with the words, throat start to feel a burn in it for the strain; “okay if—“

“The answer’s yes, man,” Steve’s soothing him, but also kind of shushing him, all in one go: “whatever it is, okay? So just ask, don’t like, pull the punch,” then Steve’s squeezing his hand, and murmuring deep and smooth and almost like a purr, a source of pure comfort just to hear, and then to feel through the air between them:

“‘Cause it’s not a punch, yeah?”

And: okay. Okay then, he can; Eddie can do this.

“Can you keep,” he barely breathes, but it’s all he remembers so he goes with it, hopes it’s enough: “holding? I can feel, when you’re…”

He trails off, but it’s…fine. It’s fine, because Steve never lets go once, just readjusts the hold of his hand on Eddie’s, of Eddie’s inside his, and settles next to him quiet and steadfast and kind of fucking everything and Eddie fades into the feeling of it with the last of his words like a vow:

“I’ll hold it until you wake back up, if you want.”

And if Eddie knows anything as sleep claims him: he knows that he wants.

>>> two: wash 🧼🫧🚿

✨permanent tag list: OPEN (lmk if you want to be added/removed): @pearynice @hbyrde36 @slashify @finntheehumaneater @wxrmland @dreamwatch @perseus-notjackson @estrellami-1 @bookworm0690 @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @nerdyglassescheeseychick

divider credits here & here

👾 title credit here

💫 ao3 link here

[myshipsmyotpmylifeistrash]

Hate when a fic is labeled slow burn and the author says it’s gonna be extremely slow burn but the characters already like each other

Like I want to see the leading up to them even having feelings for each other, type of slow burn, not them just get into a relationship type of slow burn.

And like why is it only one chapter and less than 10k

Like I need to see the evolution of them even having feelings for each other, not start the fic with them already having these feelings.

Please someone tell me if this makes sense

[fandsart]

Where the 20 Chain Links Lead

Also on Ao3: Chapter 2

[Chapter 1]  [Chapter 2]  [Chapter 3.1]  [Chapter 3.2]  [Chapter 4]

Chapter 2: What Comes With Loving Nancy Wheeler

He wants to get drunk after that. God does he want to get absolutely shit–faced, to forget whatever the hell that thing was. To rinse away the regret of not having listened to Nancy when she told him she saw something when she went looking for Barbara. Doesn’t want to think about how quickly his girlfriend resorted to pointing a gun at his face.

He knows he can’t drink though. He has a girlfriend now, and he doesn’t trust himself not to wake up with another girl in his bed if he does. He’s not entirely sure what he’s like when he’s drunk, other than “good in bed,” but he’s heard that about his sober self too. He smokes a whole pack of camels that weekend. It calms his nerves a bit, but it’s in an artificial way that could never be all that effective.

It doesn’t actually help him get his mind off the events. He has the opposite problem when the week starts up again. He can’t exactly smoke at school, so he’s still on edge, even though he is able to distract himself (to an extent) with schoolwork. Plus the new developments in social ranking and the rumors that follow him no longer speaking to Tommy and Carol. The rumors are definitely made more severe when people notice how tense he is.

↞⬡+¤+⬡↠

He heads to his house almost immediately after. He doesn’t realize until he’s on his own doorstep that he hasn’t dropped the bat. He thinks about returning it, but the idea of putting it down right now fills him with dread. Every time he tries to talk himself into dropping it, his grip only tightens. He triple checks that all of his doors are locked.

He finds himself sitting at one of the kitchen chairs, doing nothing but clutching the nail bat when the sun comes up. He hadn’t registered how much time had passed until the sun was above the horizon and burning his eyes through the window. He decides it’s probably time that he finally heads to his room. He’s technically supposed to be in school today, but there’s no way that’s happening.

He stands up and finds himself off balance. He doesn’t know if it’s the lack of sleep, or related to the panic, but there aren’t any nails poking out of the end of the bat, so he uses it as a sort of stabilizer. He’s making his way through the living room when the doorbell rings. The foyer is in the next room, so he doesn’t have to keep them waiting very long. Long enough apparently.

He’s almost to the door when another sound rings, this time being pressed in rapid succession, the first note of the tune repeating several times before whoever’s at the door finally stops and the jingle continues. Steve opens the door just before the last note rings.

He finds Jim Hopper—the goddamn chief of police—on the other side. He looks like a mess and Steve vaguely wonders which of them look more like shit. Hopper doesn’t need to say anything for Steve to know why he’s there. He hadn’t previously been aware of his involvement, but being the day after the event, one look at his face informed Steve of the chief’s involvement.. He gestures to the house before Hopper can even say anything, a silent invitation to come in.

“Nancy mentioned you took a bat home with you. I didn’t realize it was gonna be filled with nails,” Hopper says. It’s not until Hopper speaks this sentence that Steve realizes how much of a fog he’s in. Sure he’d been off balance, but now he’s hearing words that are taking him three whole seconds to understand. He blinks owlishly in response before fully registering the words and he looks down at his bat. “You alright over there?” Hopper asks, despite being four feet away.

“I uh… didn’t really… get any sleep.”

“Clearly,” Hopper says. “I need to talk with you about what happened last night, but I need you to be… fully conscious. For now just don’t tell anyone about what happened. Think you can handle that?” Once he registers the sentence he gives a jerky nod. “Come down to the station as soon as you can, alright?”

“Yeah.” Hopper leaves and Steve ends up moving back to the living room instead of trying to take on the stairs, where he promptly passes out on the couch. He doesn’t sleep very deeply, waking up every half an hour, arm dropping off the couch, hand still holding the bat laying on the ground, his grip is tight even in his sleep.

↞⬡+¤+⬡↠

The next day he finds out that Hopper called them out of school the previous day. He’s pretty relieved to hear it. His parents had long since given up on his grades, but if they thought he was playing hooky they would rant at him for ‘tainting the family name.’

Given his reputation and what the public does know about recent events, he considers himself incredibly lucky that there aren’t any rumors of him having a threesome with Nancy and Jonathan. He doesn’t want to deal with his parents throwing him in the closet today.

Maybe those rumors would have spread if they don’t all come to school looking like absolute garbage. Instead people chalk it up to them all getting fevers the previous day. After all, they’d all been seen together. It would make sense for it to have been a simple spread illness.

↞⬡+¤+⬡↠

He heads over to the station after school and Hopper makes him tell him what he knows.

“We killed a monster that fell out of the ceiling. It doesn’t like fire,” is all he can say. Hopper nods before telling him that it’s good he doesn’t know any more. Steve stiffens in his seat, before demanding information. He’s used to being confused, so the fact he doesn’t know isn’t something that’s getting to him. It’s more the fact that Hopper doesn’t seem to think he deserves to know, because he does.

“You don’t understand how dangerous this stuff is,” Hopper tells him seriously.

“Like hell. I faced it with a bat.”

“Not just the monster. The knowledge that comes with it.” He then goes on to describe what ‘they’ could do to him if he starts blabbing. He tells him that he managed to cover up all of the teenagers’ involvement, and that they’d better not let him regret it, because it would be his ass on the line too.

“Is that all then?” he asks, after Hopper gives his handful of threats, secondhand and his own.

“You’re right; you do deserve to know more. I’m sorry I can’t tell you more. You know what though, I can tell you what the kids have been calling the monster. It’s not something that, you know, the ‘bad people’ recognize, so it’s really the only piece of safe information I have.” Steve nods at him to continue. Hopper tells him. He forgets the name by the time he leaves the building, but that’s to be expected.

↞⬡+¤+⬡↠

The reappearance of Will Byers is big news the next day. Bigger news than when he’d gone missing, which is saying something, because this is Hawkins and nothing ever happens here. Will’s in the newspaper and he’s all anyone is talking about. Apparently what the public is being told is that he got lost in the woods, and the body they found in the quarry was a John Doe. Steve is fairly in the dark, but he knows that’s not true.

He feels bad for the kid. Whenever he goes to Nancy’s and he sees the kid there, he has a haunted look in his eyes. He clearly went through something during his disappearance. Given what he saw the night of his return, Steve has some theories, but when he asks Nancy about it, she tells him that he doesn't want to know. Insists that it could get both of them in trouble anyway.

With… the government, he supposes? That doesn’t sit right with him, but it’s not like he can talk about it.

↞⬡+¤+⬡↠

It’s not long—barely a week—since he first wields the nail bat, that he smokes his first joint. He’s been practicing with his basketball hoop a lot. It helps get his mind off of it, though it takes a while to get to the point where he’s able, since his hoop is outside where Nancy claims to have seen the thing for the first time. It also helps wear him out, but he’s still barely slept despite that and he’s getting desperate. He recognizes the recommended dealer as the guy who’s always being dramatic about ‘conformity’ or whatever. Steve’s not even entirely sure what that word means.

He’s not sure how well Eddie “fuck society” Munson would respond to King Steve attempting to buy, but at least he has a bit of a safety net. Eddie won’t pull anything when he knows Steve rules the school he goes to every day. He has a bit of a safety net that he wouldn’t have with any other dealer he’d find. The worst that could happen is Eddie refusing to serve him. He meets him at a picnic table a short way into the forest.

“Well, hello there, your majesty,” Eddie says with a weak bow when Steve first walks up. “To what do I owe this pleasure?” He moves to sit at the table bench while Steve remains standing.

“Your goods, I guess,” he answers. Eddie lets out a dramatic sigh.

“I suppose it was foolish of me to hope you might have just wanted to talk to me.”

“I don’t know man. Did you hope that? I can’t imagine you like me all that much.”

“I’m just messing with you,” he says, dropping the whimsical voice. “Can’t say I mind the view though.” Steve looks around.

“Yeah, it’s nice here.”

“Wow,” Eddie says, seemingly more to himself than to Steve. He’s smiling, his cheek resting in his hand, his elbow on the table. “So how can I fix you up, Harrington? Looks like you could use something if I’m honest.”

“I just… need to relax. Probably just-” he says “marijuana” at the same time Eddie asks, “Weed?”

“Yeah, sounds about right,” Eddie continues. “Weed’s a pretty safe call in general.”

“If you’re trying to get me to buy something harder, don’t think calling it ‘safe’ is going to make me feel puny. I just need an outlet.”

“You think I'd try to emasculate you? I wouldn’t dare. Not without asking nicely,” he winks. “All I mean is, you won’t really have to worry about getting addicted.”

“Alright.” There’s a pause. “I’m gonna be honest. I don’t really know what I’m doing. How much I’m supposed to pay for how much makes sense to take.”

“How about this Harrington. You give me 20 bucks, and we can smoke together until you feel like you aren’t dying or whatever.”

“I don’t feel like I’m dying.”

“‘Or whatever!’”

“Yeah. Ok.” They lay side by side on the picnic table as they smoke their individual joints in silence.

↞⬡+¤+⬡↠

Steve doesn’t remember falling asleep, but he eventually finds himself being shaken awake.

“Hey, man,” he hears Eddie say. He rubs his eyes so he can see him too. “You should probably finish sleeping at home. It’s getting dark.”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

He doesn’t find himself needing to buy any more as often as he thought he’d be resorting to. He doesn’t know or understand a lot about biology or psychology, but it feels like his body never let go of the fear and adrenaline from the last link in that chain, and the couple joints he’d used up worked to forcibly turn those down. Steve wonders if his brain not recognizing that the danger is gone relates to his brain being unable to retain information. But what would he know about it?

↞⬡+¤+⬡↠

Nancy tells Steve about what Jonathan told her. About his photographic motivations. Seeing people in their element. He doesn’t at all think that makes it ok, to take pictures of people who don’t know you’re there, but he understands the appeal of candid photos. One day after his workout with the basketball team, after he’s taken a shower in the locker room, he finds Jonathan in the darkroom, developing photos.

“Dude,” Jonathan yells when Steve opens the door. “I put the ‘In Use’ sign up for a reason!” He stops as he finally sees that it’s Steve. “Oh, it’s you… Sorry, I thought you were someone else.���

“No, it’s fine. I don’t really know how this whole,” he gestures to everything on the tables, “thing works. I should have, I don’t know, thought when I saw that sign. I mean, knowing that I don’t know anything about this.”

“Ok,” he responds cautiously. “Why are you here?”

“Listen, you’re friends with Nancy now, and since I’m dating her I just want to make sure that we’re cool.”

“You want to… ‘make sure that we’re cool?’”

“I mean, I wouldn’t blame you if you hated me, but I’d like us to be on good terms.”

Jonathan sighs. “Did Nancy ask you to do this?”

“Well, no- I mean, I am doing this for Nancy’s sake. But also… I shouldn’t have said all that stuff. About your family.” Jonathan only hummed in response. “Or calling you a queer.”

Jonathan took in a sharp breath. “Yeah, that’s… I mean, besides the fact that I’m not, that wasn’t cool. I don’t think you should be using that word at all.”

“What do you mean?”

“Because-” Jonathan looked somewhat exasperated, like this isn’t something he should have to explain to him. He probably shouldn’t. “Some people are just gay, Steve. I don’t know what to tell you!”

“Yeah, but…” But what, he didn’t even know. He’s obviously heard literally everyone talking about how that’s a bad thing, but stuck in the position of explaining himself for following those opinions he found himself with no actual arguments. It was always sneers of ‘Those people.’ Something about a disease that honestly made them seem more sad than ‘predatory.’ He can’t imagine they’re spreading it on purpose, and maybe he's not that smart, but Byers is probably a more reliable source for this than Tommy and Carol ever were anyway.

Looking at Jonathan’s tired face made him not want to figure out what he was even trying to argue, so Jonathan wouldn’t have to deal with explaining very simple concepts to him. So he relents. “Alright man. You’re probably right.”

Jonathan nods slowly. “Alright. We’re cool.”

“As long as you’re not taking pictures of people who don’t know you’re there anymore.” Jonathan looks down guilty.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t. Wouldn’t again. Never again. But I’m not really taking pictures of anything these days. You still broke my camera, you know. We’re still cool by the way. That was a… fair response.”

“Oh… Yeah. Whose are these then?” He gestures to some of the drying photos.

“Nicole’s. She likes taking photos, but hates the development process, but I think it’s relaxing. Besides, this is really the only way I can participate in the photography club anymore.” Steve sticks around as Jonathan finishes the last few photos. Jonathan explains the process to him, and he’s right. It’s relaxing. Steve doesn’t understand how it works at all and maybe that’s why he finds it so intriguing. If he didn’t know any better he’d think it was magic. It amazes him that this is how people put photos to paper.

↞⬡+¤+⬡↠

Most of Nancy and Steve’s dates the rest of the school year are study dates. It doesn’t start out that way. It happens after the first time they have a study date for his sake, as opposed to hers. They spend most of their waking evening going over the book he’d managed to cram in for his English class.

“Are you sure you don’t mind helping me with this?” he asks.

“Are you kidding? This way I won’t have to read the book next year. That will save me so much more time for my other classes.”

“God, I love you,” he breaths. She giggles and blushes.

The day he gets his grade back he has a D. There’s an attempt at an encouraging note in the corner of the page from his teacher saying that it would be a C if he didn’t misspell every other word on the extended response questions.

“You got a D?” Nancy chastises. “What did we spend all Thursday night studying for?”

“I almost got a C,” he defended, pointing at the note in the corner. “See? I’m… I’m trying…” The next thing he knows Nancy’s arms are wrapped around him, and he returns the hug.

“I’m sorry,” she says.

“It’s ok.”

↞⬡+¤+⬡↠

The next time she comes over she tells him that she’s done a bunch of research on learning disabilities and teaching methods. He almost wants to yell at her that he doesn’t have a learning disability, but he decides that even if he doesn’t (a matter his father insists on) he might as well see if the teaching methods Nancy’s found work. So he relents. Though he does make sure to mention that he doesn’t have one. She seems unconvinced, but doesn’t argue.

She asks him if he ever did well in school and he asks if she ever had Mr. Clarke. She immediately knows what to do with this information. Of course she does. She’s Nancy goddamn Wheeler. She’s a genius.

She learns all of his material and they go over it with her reciting jokes and anecdotes about the topics to get him to remember it. It’s so obviously scripted, which keeps it from being as effective as it could be, but it’s enough. It’s more than enough. Steve doesn’t know where she finds the time to do all this.

“You could skip junior year at this point,” he tells her.

“Maybe, but there are some classes I want to take that you aren't taking this year anyway.”

↞⬡+¤+⬡↠

The longer he dates her the more he starts to understand what Tommy and Carol meant when they told him that sex and romance go together. Sure, he’s wanted to have sex before, but it was more that he was in the mood for it than it was he was entranced by another person. But here he is, absolutely smitten with the girl who almost made learning fun. Almost. It’s still absolutely exhausting.

↞⬡+¤+⬡↠

Christmas is only a few weeks away and Nancy’s inviting him to a sort of party on Christmas Eve. He hasn’t met Nancy’s parents yet, but he’s fairly well known around town for reasons that aren’t exactly being all that great. He’d hope the knowledge that most of their dates are study dates would reassure them, but he seriously doubts they even believe that’s what they’re actually doing. So meeting them isn’t something that he’s too eager to get over with.

“Yeah, I’ve considered that.” she says when he brings up these concerns. “That’s why I think you should come to this specifically. It’s not like you’d be coming to a family dinner. Mike’s friends are all gonna be there, and so is Jonathan and one of my aunts. They won’t have nearly as much focus on you.”

“I don’t know, Nance. I would still be the only person in the room they haven’t met yet. Don’t you think that would make it kinda worse.”

“The kids will be in their own world, but they’ll be filling any silences. There’s only so much tension that could build with that. Also, my aunt hasn’t been in town in almost a year. My mom, at least, is going to be distracted catching up with her.” Steve grimaces. “Come on! You’ll have to meet them eventually. This is a one time opportunity to make the tension as slack as possible.”

He caves. “Yeah. Ok. I just… this is my first serious relationship, so meeting the parents is never something I’d needed to worry about before, and I’m kind of… out of the water… or whatever.”

“Do you mean ‘you feel like a fish out of water’ or ‘you’re kind of out of your depth?’”

“Aren’t those the same things?”

“Yeah, basically. But those are what you’re talking about right?” God Steve feels stupid right now.

“Yeah…” He needs to change the subject. “So, Jonathan’s gonna be there?”

“Yeah, he’s mostly coming because Mike invited Will and, well, you know. The Byers have had him on a bit of a leash after… everything. But he’d be welcome anyway.”

“Has he met your parents already?”

“Well, he’s Will’s brother, so yes. My parents also like to use his photography abilities for events like this. Of course he won’t be able to do that this year.”

“What? Why not?”

“Well- Steve, you broke his camera.”

“Yeah, like a month ago. He hasn’t gotten a new one by now.”

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but he doesn’t live in a mansion Steve. Not everyone can just buy whatever they want whenever they want.” He knows that. Of course he knows that. He’s just… inexperienced in that area. It’s hard to remember. “He’s really upset, you know. It’s almost all he talks about now— that he won’t be able to afford a new one for several months.”

↞⬡+¤+⬡↠

The next time he sees her he asks what kind of camera Jonathan had—or would want. A proud smile crosses her face, and Steve isn’t sure if she’s proud he’s ‘stepping up’ or whatever, or proud of herself for guilting him into it.

“Now, what makes you think I know anything about Jonathan’s camera preferences?” Steve blanks, and she’s right. It was an odd assumption to make. Idiot.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he says sarcastically. “I was just under the impression that you were some kind of genius or something.” She laughs and blushes a bit.

“Well you’re just lucky Jonathan’s so obsessed with his craft,” she says, matching his joking tone. “Because he talks about it all the time.”

So she tells him about how Jonathan has been saving for a specific camera, but has been practically drooling over a different—more expensive—camera in a catalog that he keeps in his nightstand drawer.

Steve manages to get his hands on one of those cameras before the party. He’s never had to wrap a gift before, but he thinks he does a decent job. Nancy offers to help, but he wants to try to do it on his own. Plus he was already using her family’s wrapping paper since his doesn’t exactly keep it in stock, and he doesn’t want to buy a whole roll that will only ever get used once.

He spends way too long trying to figure out what to wear. His family always stuffs him in a dull shade of a green shirt with a matching shaded red tie, or its reverse, and black pants. Steve wants to wear something more comfortable. He picks a Christmas sweater. Nancy’s family seems like the kind of people who would go for that. He doesn’t want to go overboard with the whole ugly Christmas sweater thing, so he keeps it basic.

He gets there with the camera tucked under his coat. He fully intended on handing it to Jonathan himself, but no one else is exchanging gifts and—despite his previous conversation with Jonathan establishing them as ‘cool’— he still doesn’t feel super comfortable with the exchange. Maybe he shouldn’t have wrapped it. It’s not even really a Christmas gift as much as it is an apology- Why did he wrap it?

When he gets there he almost immediately practically drags Nancy up to her room and explains his conundrum to her. He’s vaguely aware just how bad an impression on her family. If he made it quick it wouldn’t be too bad, but they now know he’s aware where her room is, which isn’t something he’s supposed to know.

“Maybe I should just tear off the paper. That’s less weird, right?”

“What? No- you worked so hard on that.”

“Yeah, and it still looks like garbage. I’m just gonna-” He goes to tear off the paper, but Nancy stops him, putting her hands on the box.

“What if I just give it to him?” A wave of relief floods through his body, like it’s in his bloodstream.

“Oh my god, yes. Please do.”

↞⬡+¤+⬡↠

The dinner is fairly quick and simple. Of course, Steve couldn’t expect anything too extensive for the meal the night before Christmas Day. It comes up during the meal that Mike is the one who suggested the idea to have breakfast for dinner as the meal, waffles as the main dish, but with sides of things like scrambled eggs, toast, sausage, and bacon. Apparently he’d been insistent for reasons only his friends and Nancy seem to know, but refuse to explain.

Nancy’s aunt has to leave quickly after the dinner ends, but Nancy had been right. She’s a great buffer. She’s a bit of a chatterbox, and has a lot to say about what she’s been doing with her time away from Hawkins. Her stories are engrossing and she makes getting away from Hawkins seem even more appealing than it was before. Most importantly, she keeps everyone’s attention away from him, even in his ridiculous sweater, which he regrets soon after arriving.

After dinner the kids head to the basement for some complicated nerd game, and Mrs. Wheeler starts working on some desserts for the next day. Steve, Nancy, Jonathan, and Mr. Wheeler settle into the living room to watch some Christmas movies. Mr. Wheeler isn’t really watching though. He’s glaring at Steve, who in turn keeps a slight distance from Nancy. Well, he’s not glaring as much as he is giving him the most judgy look Steve’s ever seen on a middle aged man.

Jonathan can apparently tell when the kids are starting to wrap up their game and heads downstairs to collect Will to take him home. Once Jonathan leaves the room, Steve slowly moves his head to look at Nancy, just now remembering about the camera Jonathan has yet to receive.

“I’ll take care of it,” Nancy tells him. So he’s left alone watching the movie, and god is he glad Mr. Wheeler is asleep by now.

Nancy comes back a minute later and immediately cuddles up to him. With her father asleep, they feel allowed, but she’s still stiff, not settling comfortably.

“Did you give it to him?” he asks.

“Yeah.”

The movie ends a half hour later, and he heads home. He doesn’t see Nancy until school starts back up.

↞⬡+¤+⬡↠

It’s January, and he’s sitting at Nancy’s kitchen table, since Nancy’s parents are now more aware of their relationship and don’t want them in her room anymore. Nancy had gone to take care of something for her mother and Steve was attempting to continue writing his goddamn essay, so that he can go over with Nancy once she comes back. Instead what happens is one of the middle-schoolers that are constantly running around the place comes up from the basement and decides it’s appropriate to look over his shoulder and correct his grammar.

“It’s ‘further,’ not ‘farther,’” he says.

“And you’re wearing a hat indoors,” he lazily snarks back. He doesn’t put much effort into the quality of the retort or much sting into his voice, but the kid pulls the bill down just a little bit, slowly, somewhat embarrassed. “Sorry. I’m a bit frustrated with all this,” he gestures to the page, even though what he’s really frustrated with is his own brain.

“It’s ok… I’m just up here to get some snacks. I’ll get out of your hair.” Steve’s not sure if the comment about his hair is intentional, but he’s found that his hair being ‘incredible’ is a major factor in people’s interest in him. The kid heads over to the pantry in silence and grabs an armload of various snacks. He goes to leave, but stops at the doorway before turning back to Steve.

“I have cleidocranial dysplasia,” he says. “That’s why I wear the hat.” Steve doesn’t know what that means, but he gets the feeling he crossed a line that was much closer than he’d realized.

↞⬡+¤+⬡↠

Steve’s been dating Nancy for months at this point, and they’ve still never really had an actual date. They mostly just hang out and work on homework. Sometimes they have sex, but it’s a bit rare now. Nancy rarely has an empty house, and she refuses to go over to his house after everything. So Steve wants to do something special for Valentine’s Day, to make up for the lack of actual substance in their relationship. He feels like he’s dragging Nancy down with his schoolwork. He could at least give her a fun night out on the day designated to celebrate relationships.

He doesn’t take her to Enzo’s, because that’s where his parents are. Besides—while there will probably be a lot of people there for Valentine’s Day, adult or not—it isn’t really a teenager’s scene. So he takes her to the next best place. The diner date he’d been fantasizing about since he first laid eyes on her. The diner was in the same area of town as Enzo’s, but was nothing too fancy, but somewhere that isn’t too greasy. Plus he doesn’t feel like he’s flaunting his wealth by proving he can get into a place like Enzo’s on Valentine’s Day.

So they’re sitting there in the diner and Nancy looks massively uncomfortable. She’s avoiding looking at anything but the table right in front of her, be it empty, with the menu on top, or the plate in front of her, which she picks at. Nancy hasn’t said a word since they arrived, except to order.

He should have known it was a stupid idea to bring her here. Ideal dates like the one he’d been conjuring in his head probably don't actually happen in real life. People like him just fantasize about it sometimes. It's not realistic. He hoped that maybe the mood that’s set with Valentine’s day would make the idea feel less cheesy and awkward in practice.

He gulps. “Are you ok?”

“Can’t we just like… go bowling, or something?” she answers his question with a question.

“For Valentine’s Day?” 

She looks somewhat ashamed of the suggestion. “No, you’re right. This… This is fine. This is great!” She’s forcing it, and he knows it. He supposes he should have known that this wouldn’t be up her alley. Headstrong and ambitious Nancy. Just some of the things he likes about her. Why would he think she would enjoy this? Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid. So he immediately starts scarfing down his chicken.

“Wha- gross, Steve!” she says, but she’s laughing. He got her to laugh; something he savors. He’s always loved her laugh. “What are you doing?”

“Well, we’ll want to hurry up if we want to get to the bowling alley before they tell us we won’t have enough time to play!” She immediately follows suit, and they’re both lucky neither of them choke with how much they’re giggling. At some point it becomes an unspoken competition to see who can finish first. He lets her win, pretending his laughs are more extreme than they really are to give bigger gaps between bites. By the time they flag a waiter, most of the tables are staring at them, and many sag in relief as they leave the building.

They’d had the waiter put the milkshake that had previously been left with two untouched straws, in a to-go cup, and Steve gave it to Nancy. She drank it on the way to the bowling alley. Nancy was right; bowling is much more fun and comfortable. He beats her score with almost twice as many points as her, because he’s good at this kind of thing. He has strength and precision on his side from playing basketball for the past several years.

“I still won the eating competition,” she rationalizes as he drives her back home.

“Competition?” he asks cheekily. “What competition?”

“You ass. You know what I’m talking about.”

“Ok,” he concedes. “You’re a fast eater.”

“And you started it. I had to catch up.” She’s very self satisfied, but he’s not even sure that would have made a difference in the fact he would have won had he not let her, but he lets her have it.

↞⬡+¤+⬡↠

The school year will be over in a couple of months when Nancy first asks Steve to join her at dinner with the Hollands. She tells him she wants to show them that more people care than just them and her. He agrees.

It doesn’t actually seem to convince them that anyone else cares all that much. Steve thinks that’s fair. He just looks like a boyfriend helping his girlfriend prove a point. But Barbara was a human being, and she died, and her parents didn’t get any kind of closure or warning. Of course he cared. Plus there was the guilt surrounding the subject that clung him like wet fabric. Especially after Nancy felt the need to prove that other people do. He cares that so many people don’t.

The first dinner is a bit tense. They clearly don’t believe that he’s there for anyone’s sake but Nancy’s. And again, he can’t blame them for thinking that.

“So they throw these dinners every week?” he asks, driving Nancy home after they leave that first meal.

“Every two or three weeks. It depends on when people are available.”

“Have they been doing this since she disappeared? The whole time?”

“No. They were… distraught for a really long time. They’ve only been doing this for the past couple of months.”

“When’s the next one?”

“Are you planning on coming again?” she asks, smiling hopefully.

“Yeah. I mean, I’d have started coming before if I knew about it.”

“Steve,” she smiles. “I would have told you about it sooner if I knew you cared.” She caught herself. “Not that I thought you didn’t, but you’ve never seemed all that torn up about it.”

“I didn’t know her that well, but… she clearly cared about you. I think it’s, I don’t know, it’s just not cool that there aren’t a lot of people bothered by it. Like they did for Byers' kid brother.”

He expresses these sentiments to the Hollands at the next get together. They don’t seem bothered by his poor wording. He’s relieved about that. He didn’t want to feel like an ass about this topic.

↞⬡+¤+⬡↠

It’s Thursday and school lets out in a little more than two weeks. Steve knows everyone is going to get the results of their finals back the next day, and he’s nervous. Sure he’s gotten better grades this year than any other, but he didn’t have enough time to go back and review all of it. When he went to go over some of the early year stuff, he was unsurprised to find he’d forgotten almost all of it. Nancy had been studying for her finals and he wasn’t going to pull her into his problems when she was stressed for herself enough as it is.

So he reviewed it on his own and hopes it’s enough to have jogged his memory enough to pass. He has enough marks for “behavioral issues” that scoring low enough would raise a suspicion that he’d been cheating all year, and he could be held back. He’s already completed the tests. He just needs a distraction now.

He finds himself outside the darkroom. He knocks this time.

“Just a minute,” he hears Jonathan call through the door. It takes more than a minute, but he keeps his patience. When Jonathan opens the door he seems a bit surprised. “Oh, Steve. Hey. Why… What’s up?” Steve suddenly feels incredibly stupid for coming here. He doesn’t exactly know Jonathan that well. He swallows his pride.

“I’ve been a bit stressed,” he says awkwardly. Jonathan seems to understand. He smiles a bit and gestures for Steve to enter, which he does.

“Finals?” he asks.

“Yeah.”

Jonathan nods. “You wanna try developing some?” He gestures to the bins of chemicals.

“I don’t really know how.”

“Yes you do. I showed you a few months ago.”

“Yeah. A few months ago.” Jonathan chuckles.

“That’s ok. I can guide you through it.” He’s a man of his word, apparently. He takes him through the first one step by step, lets Steve take over on the second as he hovers, and leaves him be entirely on the third. It makes him nervous, afraid he’ll do something wrong and not have anyone to correct him, but the image turns out fine.

“I wouldn’t worry too much about your score,” Jonathan says after they’ve been silently working at their own stations for a while. “Nancy tells me she’s been helping you. I don’t know you very well, but I know she knows what she’s doing.”

“Yeah, but I don’t know what I’m doing.” There’s a pause.

“Thanks for the camera, by the way.” Steve’s head jerks up, eyes leaving the photo he’s working on and hitting Jonathan. “She didn’t tell me it was you, but she let it slip a little while after that she had to get Mike a pretty cheap gift because most of the allowance she’d set aside for gifts was used up on all our monster hunting gear. Wasn’t hard to figure out after that.”

“Nancy mentioned how long it was going to take for you to save up for a new one. Sometimes I forget that people can’t just buy things back. I’m trying to work on that.”

“I guess it wouldn’t be very helpful of me to suggest trying out what it’s like to be poor. So I guess that’s all I can ask for you to do.”

“Cool. I’m pretty sure Nance brought it up hoping I’d get you one, but I’m still trusting you with that camera. Don’t make me regret it.”

“No, I wouldn’t dream of it.”

↞⬡+¤+⬡↠

Nancy is probably the only reason he passes junior year. With his finals scores worsening every year prior, Steve’s pretty sure his father fully expected him to fail this year, which is quickly confirmed. They’re eating breakfast on the first day of summer.

“Did you know that Steven’s going to be a senior this year,” his mother asks his father, who turns to him.

“You passed?” he asks. Steve doesn’t know why his surprise got to him. He already knew he was a disappointment. He tries to keep the tone light, for the sake of his own emotional state.

“Well, yeah. After all the work I put in this year, I’d certainly hope so,” he laughs.

“Was all that work put into cheating?” Steve feels his smile strain.

“No.” His father raises an eyebrow, unbelieving. “Why would I cheat for Bs and Cs?” he asks, rhetorically.

“As if anyone would believe you’d get any higher.”

“I’ve gotten Bs before. Who’s to say I can’t break my record?”

“You got Bs in one class in middle school. You’re not in middle school anymore.”

“Honey,” Steve’s mother interjects, “leave it alone. Who cares how he got it? If this is what it takes to keep  him from embarrassing the family, we should take it.”

↞⬡+¤+⬡↠

That summer, Steve’s parents break their record for how long they’re out. They go on vacations every summer, but this year they decide to be ambitious and travel to several countries in Europe. They tell Steve to plan on not seeing them for almost a month. The only emotion Steve feels is impressed. It’s quite the extended holiday they’re taking.”

He asks Nancy to come over the first day, but she declines.

“Sorry,” she says. “It’s just… last time I was at your place was the first time I saw the demogorgon, and the time before that, well…”

“No, Nance, that’s fine. I shouldn’t have even suggested it.” Idiot.

↞⬡+¤+⬡↠

Vanessa shows up the first Friday they’re gone.

“It’s been a while since you learned anything new,” she says. “It’s not as important that I teach you this time around, but if you want, we can expand a bit. Give you a bigger variety to pick from when your parents are away.” He eyes her up and down.

“Last I checked you were tired of wasting your time teaching me things,” he says.

“I was tired of not getting paid for raising a whole-ass child who wasn’t even mine. I enjoyed teaching you, but that shouldn’t have been up to me. And I’d already taught you more than enough. You’re getting older now, and cooking should be about more than survival by now. Isn’t it?”

“I… yeah, I enjoy it.”

“Then let’s get started. And hey,” she pulls out a bottle of wine from her oversized purse, “let’s have some extra fun with it today.”

She shows up every Friday that his parents are gone that month. They mostly go over breakfast recipes because back when she was teaching him regularly, he already knew how to make eggs, and she didn’t feel the need to mess with that. He never complained, so he couldn’t blame her for teaching him how to make more filling meals, but he really didn’t like eggs. Not on their own. He would find himself often making simpler dinner foods for breakfast just because he didn’t want to deal with the squishy, wet egg feeling in his mouth.

She shows him how to make omelets, which are considerably more bearable than the regular eggs. She teaches him how to make a variety of pastries. He learns how to make french toast, and bagels. Bagels are surprisingly easy to make and, with them being so easy to grab on the fly, he decides that when school starts up he’s going to keep up a decent stockpile.

↞⬡+¤+⬡↠

Steve mentions that he doesn’t trust anyone else with his hair—especially anyone his parents would hire to cut it—so he cuts it himself. Nancy looks impressed, and he feels his chest fill with pride. It’s obviously difficult to impress her, and he wasn’t even trying. Then she smiles.

“Can you cut my hair?” she asks, excited.

“What? Why?”

“I get my hair trimmed every year when school starts, but my mom doesn’t want me cutting it short. I cut it myself in middle school, thinking she’d pay for it to be cleaned up, but she didn’t and I just had a terrible haircut that year.” Steve always liked Nancy’s long hair. He definitely had a preference for girls with long hair; something about the way it framed them and their face. But he didn’t think it was fair that Nancy wasn’t allowed to do what she wanted with her hair. That’s the whole reason he cuts his own after all. Besides, he’d impressed her.

He gives her a bob and she loves it. She’s more affectionate that day than she’s been in a long time.

↞⬡+¤+⬡↠

The school year starts and Steve has PE with Tommy. After he broke it off with him and Carol, they’d mostly just been avoiding each other. It wasn’t exactly difficult; they only shared their lunch period that year. For the first few days back they try not to acknowledge each other.

One day they’re playing dodge ball and they’re the only two left, on opposite teams. They’re both hesitant, and it must be obvious because Coach Miller yells at them to ‘pick it up, boys.’

So Steve chucks the ball at Tommy’s knees and Tommy’s face grows dark. Steve gets a feeling any remaining mutual respect has just been shattered entirely. The class heads to the locker room, but Gabriel S is the only one who deems it necessary to shower. Everyone else just gets changed, since the game that day wasn’t particularly taxing.

Steve’s about to leave the locker room when he hears Tommy’s voice, right behind him.

“Do you even know Carol moved to Colorado last month?” he asks, accusingly. Steve turns around to face him.

“No,” he answers, attempting to sound apologetic. “I didn’t know that.”

“Would you fucking look at me!”

Shit- his eyes darted from where he was looking over Tommy’s shoulder, to his face. He’s snarling, and the next thing Steve knows he’s on the ground getting his face pummeled in.

He doesn’t fight back, but he still gets the closet that night.

↞⬡+¤+⬡↠

He hasn’t gotten the closet since his parents finally gave up on his prospects and stopped caring about his grades, back in middle school. It’s somehow worse this time. He wonders if the fact he’s so much taller has anything to do with it, but it feels as bad as it did the first time, when the closet was still being used for linens. It’s hot and he can’t breathe. He begs through the door and his father tells him to stop being dramatic.

He grips the door through the slit at the bottom, the cool air on the other side pressing against his fingers. The only thing keeping him sane.

Masterlist Chapter 3.1>>

[refusetoseetheghosts]

An Unconventional Type Of Love - RefuseToSeeTheGhosts - Stranger Things (TV 2016) [Archive of Our Own]

I have finally completed Chapter Three of this, which I am surprised I have managed to even get this far with it! I really have some of my kind mutuals to thank for all of the ongoing support and encouragement because I had previously doubted being able to produce anything worthy of being shared, but you have believed in me so thankyou for following this story, this far! It means a lot to me!

Again, it's certainly not brilliant and I'm trying really hard to improve as a writer, but here it is

ALSO the fic includes Byler in more than one chapter, with their own specific scenes because I adore them and felt like including their adorable little relationship 💕

[hbyrde36]

Wiggly Wednesday 🧠🪱

Most recently tagged by @tinytalkingtina but also in the last two weeks by @kikidoesfanfic and @medusapelagia

Honestly I just didn't have any worms at the time outside of what I was already writing, but very recently I've been smacked over the head with a ghost!Eddie brain worm that maybe-sorta has a doc with like 1-2k words in it now, but I'm sliding it gently onto the back burner until fall.

Until then:

Post season 4, canon compliant? maybe?

About a week after the events of season 4 Eddie shows up at Steve's house while the party + older teens are having a meeting to discuss plans moving forward as far as dealing with the possible still looming threat of Vecna.

Steve, having been able to see ghosts for his entire life, is the only one who can see and hear him.

“They can’t see you.” Steve muttered softly, regretting it the moment the words passed his lips.  He knew better than to engage with ghosts.   Since the moment he’d first shown signs of the gift, he’d been taught by his late grandfather to leave the spirit world be, and mind his own goddamn business. He’d only broken the rules one other time, about a month or so after they learned the full truth of what happened to Barb, and he’d seen her essence lurking around his pool at night. That experience had only served to further prove the old man’s point.   Nothing good ever came from acknowledging the dead.   But this was Eddie.  They’d fought together, bled together. Eddie was his… his ally, his compatriot,  his… friend.   Or, at least, maybe he could have been. “No shit, Harrington!” Eddie spat. “I’ve been waving my hands in front of Dustin's face for an hour, screaming at the top of my lungs and getting jack squat back in return, I mean what the fu—” Steve turned just in time to see the slightly translucent figure’s eyes go impossibly wide.  “Wait, wait wait! Holy shit! Harrington, does this mean you can see me?!” Steve winced, grimacing at the volume. “And hear you, unfortunately,” he grumbled.  Who knew the loudest guy he’d ever met would be even louder in death.  Actually, that tracked. 

No pressure tags!

@pearynice @penny00dreadful @rocknrollsalad @devondespresso @withacapitalp

[fastcardotmp3]

a steddie "they reconnect after years apart" journey except they never got all that close post-Vecna to begin with. Like they spend a week in hell together, develop the sort of respect you have for someone when you have to work together to save the world, but it doesn't ever get much bigger than that.

They're just two guys who stumbled into each other's lives on circumstance alone and then spend the next decade seeing each other precisely once a year at the single shared holiday they both spend with the party.

New Years.

Eddie always spends Thanksgiving with Wayne and Steve is with Robin every 4th of July (running off and doing their own thing in a tradition everyone knows not to ask about) so the only time both of them end up at the Hopper-Byers residence every year is in that final countdown towards something new.

and they're not enemies and they're not-not friends either, but it's like that friend of your cousin who shows up to the party and you'll chat and make polite conversation and roll your eyes when they say something a bit out of bounds for two people who don't know each other all that well except.

Well, except, when you do that every year it becomes routine. When you do it every year it becomes, I know I'm not gonna have to continue this conversation in the morning so fuck it I'll be honest with you. When you do it every year, on the tipsiest night of the year, surrounded by people you trust in an environment that feels intrinsically safe it becomes--

"Did you quit your shitty job yet or are you still being a pussy about it?"

and it becomes--

"you're not still dating that same jerk as last year, right?"

and it becomes--

"wait, you hate playing Christmas music, why would you let someone talk you into that? Next time call me and I'll knock some sense into your dense skull"

and it becomes--

"I mean obviously a friends with benefits thing wouldn't work out, Steve, you're a serial monogamist"

and it becomes--

"Hey, it's good to see you again, man"

and it becomes--

"I missed your stupid hair."

and it becomes--

"I missed your drunk fucking rants."

and it becomes--

"I missed you."

Years pass, turning one into the next and it becomes I missed you I missed you I miss you.

Because they've been doing this long enough that they know each other, one night a year holding up the kitchen-counter-turned-bar and having their own little isolated conversation in the yellow glow of the only well-lit room in the house, and somewhere along the line they started knowing each other. Seeing each other. Understanding.

At some point it starts to ache, leaving that behind in the early hours of the morning and starting a new year all over again, counting down towards that final countdown when it all feels like it clicks into place. And later, at another point, they start to notice the ache.

They start to notice that they really are leaving something behind in the magic of that moment and it becomes a question of can this survive in the light of day?

It's 1995, about to tip over into 1996 when Eddie looks at Steve and doesn't see the guy pressed up against the wall of a boat shed, or the guy diving headfirst into a frigid lake so the rest of them wouldn't have to, or the guy walking away towards battle with something like uncertainty and something like hope both scrambling for purchase in his eyes.

It's 1995, about to be 1996 when Eddie looks at this guy from his past and realizes that just because he never knew him then doesn't mean he doesn't now, doesn't mean he's not allowed to get to know him now.

Eddie's not the guy who held that bottle to his throat anymore after all, not the guy who dove into that lake after him, who broke a promise and tried to be a hero. Ten years does a lot to a person and so when the Eddie of today looks at the Steve of today and says--

"I'm gonna kiss you at midnight this time, for the record."

--it doesn't feel like the ground is quaking, like anything has to shift to make space for the change that is Steve's slow smile around the lip of his glass in response.

They've been making space for ten years. They've been moving closer to each other a centimeter at a time in this well-lit kitchen, up against the counter-turned-bar.

"Well, if we're going on the record," Steve shrugs as a noise maker cuts through the warmth of their family's chattering throughout the house, "I know that already."

"Yeah?" Eddie's eyebrows shoot up, delight filling up his chest like the mystical hope of starting over. "How?"

"You get this look in your eye," Steve shrugs, "every time you plan on escalating."

Eddie chews on the inside of his cheek to keep from beaming too broadly, sets his glass on the sideboard and gives Steve a curious once-over.

"Yeah, that's the one," Steve laughs, this bright and full sound that it took probably three of those first New Years Eves for Eddie to earn, and it spurs him on.

It has always been becoming, the space between them, and it has always been becoming this, Eddie holding Steve's cheek assuredly with one confident hand and pressing their lips together in a simple, all-consuming, closed-mouth shout of a kiss.

"You didn't wait until midnight," Steve breathes when they pull away, and fuck Eddie has missed him, has found so much to miss in knowing him.

"Don't worry Cinderella," Eddie lets their foreheads touch, lets all that space officially close shut, "I ain't going anywhere when the clock chimes."