#steddie slowburn

[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>>

[piratefishmama]

Forgiven not Forgotten | Part 9

It was an interesting kind of chaos, what happened in the following moments. Joyce collared a passing nurse, Jonathan ran out to call the house, Hopper kept Lucas from leaping at the love of his young life because “watch out for the wires, kid” she was still hooked up to all kinds of life saving machines, and then most of them were shooed out so the professionals could do their work.

El couldn’t be moved, fully prepared to wreck anyone’s day who even dared try to move her, and Lucas had been there from dawn till dusk, ignoring established visiting hours and all kinds of flak from staff to just be there. They were the only two allowed inside while the professionals made sure Max would stay awake.

That she wouldn’t slip back under.

Then came the hoard.

They’d routinely ignored how many visitors were allowed to a single room. It was ridiculous, the hospital staff both hated them and felt endlessly endeared by them. They’d survived some kind of classified hell and clung to each other both through it, and after it. It didn’t matter that Max’s actual parent was still absent, that she, like others, hadn’t come back yet, or that El had shaken her head once when someone had asked her if she could find Susan.

It didn’t matter, Joyce had loudly declared “I’m her mother now so let me see my GODDAMN DAUGHTER… PLEASE!” When someone had tried to stop them on the first day.

Arguing with Joyce Byers? Not a fun thing to do. She was always so polite about it you couldn’t even be mad at her.

The whole house filled that hallway though, even though they couldn’t do anything, even though they couldn’t go in, even though they couldn’t help, just being there, knowing that behind that door, she was awake despite all odds, was enough to keep them all there. Obstructing hallways. Being general nuisances, and waiting.

Just waiting. Waiting long enough for Eddie to gather just enough courage to sit down beside Steve who’d taken a seat on the floor, not for lack of available seats, just that his seat was to the left of the door to Max’s room, the closest he could be without being inside that room.

“You know there’s chairs, right Munson?”

“Mmn I know, but… I was part of the whole… save Max plan, so I think I’ll stay right here, second to closest to the door.” Steve let out a single breath of a laugh through his nose. Just one little puff and a curl of his lip to show he found that amusing. “Are… are we okay, Steve?” Probably not the best time to bring it up but impulse control was never his strong suit. And people weren’t paying them as much attention as most would usually pay to him while he was around other people.

Attention focused elsewhere on pacing or on entertaining themselves while they waited.

“Why wouldn’t we be okay?”

“God isn’t that just a question and a half. I dunno, Steve, you tell me since you ditched me the first chance you got back at the house. I know we weren’t on the greatest of terms back in ‘86 but like… I’m pretty sure we bonded at least a little in the Upside Down so… I know there’s stuff I’m missing… your agent Stinson, whomever the fuck she was, she got those photos from somewhere… shit like that isn’t just easily doctored I know that an—an I know—I know I wasn’t dead, so… if I hurt you, or I hurt the kids, or I don’t know… if I did something that I can’t remember I just—look, Eleven, your superhero kid, is weirdly comfortable around me for being a total stranger alright? So I know I’m missing huge chunks of a story, but I’m sorry okay?”

“You’re jumping to a lot of conclusions, man. But you cant apologise for something you don’t remember doing. Those apologies don’t mean shit.” Steve wasn’t looking at him, he was looking down at the floor, his brow pinched tight as if trying to think of the safest way to go about his next words. “For the record though. You saved our asses. Or… he did.” He. He. Someone not Eddie, but definitely looked like Eddie. “Whatever he was. El was the only one who recognised him.”

“You’re gonna have to give me more than that Steve… who was he and why—”

“I cant.”

“You’re the only one who can.” The only one he knew he could trust with the knowledge that actually he wasn’t totally gone during those two years.

“Alright, I won’t. You’re safer this way.” At least Steve cared enough to keep him safe, didn’t make that answer any less annoying though. “And I know that’s annoying but… just put it behind you. Be grateful that you’re alive and you’re here. Like I said we are.”

“Are you? Because so far I’ve just been left on my own among total strangers and it’s stressing me the fuck out, you can’t just—you can’t just leave me on my own in the dark after all this, Steve, it’s not fair.” He had a disadvantage from the jump, they all seemed to know him.

He didn’t know most them.

He knew Mike, Erica, Lucas, and Dustin out of the kids, and Robin, Nancy, and Steve out of the older lot.

He sort of knew Hopper through run ins with the law, didn’t really know Joyce although she was easy to feel comfortable around. He didn’t really know Jonathan, or Will, or El, and he damn sure didn’t know any of the kids parents.

They had this comradery that he didn’t have, they had a mini apocalypse to bond through, he had a short experience of it during which he’d died. Didn’t even survive the opening act. The world had moved on, and he was just left with this knowledge that somehow… despite him not being there. His body had been.

And the only one he’d managed to sort of bond with during that whole man hunt back in ‘86, didn’t seem to want anything to do with him now. “…I know… I’m sorry about that” in Steve’s defence, it felt like a much more meaningful apology than his own had been. “We should have taken you with us, there’s no excuse, El just wanted to hang out with you again I guess”

“Again?” Gentle prods, gentle pokes, he’d learn more if he just… kept chiselling bit by bit.

“She doesn’t think like most people, to her you’re her friend. You helped her. You saved her life, man… and she knows—she knows it wasn’t actually you, but—”

“But it’s my face, isn’t it?”

“Mmhm.”

“Something was parading around in my body like some kind of puppet, wasn’t it, Steve?” Steve finally turned to look at him, a pained little frown on his face as he realised how much he’d just… let slip. How easily Eddie had drawn it from him. How weak he still was when it came to Eddie Goddamn Munson. He opened his mouth, but neither heard what he’d have said, because the door opened just before he spoke, two nurses leaving, the third remaining by the door, a smile on her face that promised great things.

Steve was up on his feet, their conversation shelved, the others clamoured forward too, having been politely ignoring whatever he and Steve had been discussing on the floor in favour of keeping themselves entertained.

“Miss Mayfield is stable, awake, and in good spirits, now I know you all want to see her, but please… maximum five to a room, there’s two in there already so three go in at a time, maximum, you hear me? Three more. Maximum.” A chorus of nods were their answers, although the nurse knew they wouldn’t actually listen. So far that seemed to be the running theme with this particular group of survivors. “Alright… go ahead.” She’d leave them to it anyway.

Wasn’t her job to enforce the rules.

Didn’t even need to look to see damn near all of them tried to get in the moment she rounded the corner out of sight.

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

thinking a wHOLE LOT about this video by @/usu_mimi on tiktok

(i’m assuming @usumimi here on tumblr, but they haven’t posted in a while! please let me know if it’s not 🥰!!)

[afewproblems]

WIP Wednesday

I'm actually posting on WIP Wednesday, the stars have finally aligned in my favour!

Thank you to @outpastthebrakers for your tag today and @steves-strapcollection for your multiple tags before - its finally lined up today!!

Here is Part Two of my follow up to this Post (Steddie Breakup) hopefully with a Steddie makeup/fix-it future!

(Also! Important to note, season four - specifically the stuff with Vecna- Never happened in this AU)

***

Two Years later - 1987, Chicago, IL

Steve picks up another box from the back of the beemer. This one has, 'Steve's Obnoxious Hair Care,' neatly printed on the side in bold black sharpie --Steve snorts at the sight and vows to never let Robin help him pack ever again. 

He walks up the three flights and through the propped open front door to the two bedroom apartment.

It's small, just barely enough for two people, but in downtown Chicago, it's a steal at the price. 

And it's theirs. 

"Hey Birdie," Steve calls out from the kitchen, he sets the box down on the counter, turning his head to the left slightly to listen for her shuffling. The dull ringing in his right ear makes it more difficult, present ever since he left his parents house for good.

It had gotten even worse since their Russian encounter, but if he's weighing the pros and the cons of that night, he's glad he got Robin out of the deal.

Steve steps into the living room just off the kitchen, "Robin?"

Bright sunlight streams through the curtainless windows bathing Robin in a warm yellow glow. 

She stands in the center, facing Steve, with a pensive expression, her eyes scanning the space around her. 

"Hush Dingus," she mutters, holding up her pointer finger to her lips, "I'm visualizing". 

"Ah, of course," he concedes with a fond smile as Robin walks towards him slowly counting her steps. She lines her feet up as she moves, touching the toe of her right foot to the heel of her left. She wobbles slightly as she makes it to where Steve is standing, he reaches out to steady her with a laugh.

"I told you the living room was more than ten feet!"

"Robin, do you think that a 'foot' is literally your foot?" 

Robin sucks her teeth and rolls her eyes, before plucking the measuring tape from where it was clipped to her back pocket, "you have no concept of joy, you refuse to let me live".

"Yeah, yeah, so hard done by," he snorts as she sticks her tongue out at him and leans down to pick up one of the empty boxes.

She sighs and looks around the space again with a contented expression before looking at Steve, "well, Dingus, I think we did good".

Steve nods and tries to smile back but the expression doesn't quite meet his eyes, Robin tilts her head, turning the box over in her hands at the corners.

"What's wrong?" She says softly, anxiously, her blue eyes dart over his face, "is it a migraine? Do you need your meds?"

Steve shakes his head, wincing before he can stop himself, he knows Robin's brain would come up with the worst case scenario first. And, to be fair to her, she had seen the worst case scenarios and after effects of the Russian interrogation, she'd held his hand after spilling his guts from the nausea and halos in his vision, she'd insisted he buy blackout blinds for his room because, 'you never know when you'll need them Dingus, you won't always get one of these at night'.

Steve shakes his head, "no, it's not a migraine, relax Robs," he huffs as she levels him with a disbelieving stare.

"I just," Steve chews his lip for a moment as he drops his gaze to the floor. Robin steps closer, tilting her head to the side as he struggles to find the words.

"I love that you came with me, that we get to be here, but," Steve sighs and runs a hand through his hair. It's longer than it had been two years ago, the gold and copper from his time in the warm summer sun slowly fading back to brown.

"Eddie always talked about leaving Hawkins someday, and I always thought it would be with me".

"This was our plan," he says softly, lifting his eyes to meet Robin's own, her brows pinched in a small frown.

"And I managed to screw that up like everything else," he trails off softly.

***

"I just don't understand why you have to go to this thing, you aren't even interested in his stupid job?" Eddie growls as he tosses the pencil up at his bedroom ceiling, it stays for just a moment before falling back into his waiting hands. Pock marks litter the tile from previous throws and Steve is sure Wayne's told him to knock it off more times than he can count.

"It's complicated," Steve says lowly, he pictures his dad's thunderous face, the same square jaw and straight nose that Steve has, they could be identical but for their ages and the cold grey eyes his father has. 

Steve took after his mother in that area, inheriting her large hazel eyes and long lashes. 

"No it's not," Eddie says stubbornly, he throws the pencil with more force this time and it hangs in the ceiling between them, "you could tell him to stuff his job up his ass".

"Eddie--"

"No, no, you know we had a show tonight, and you're choosing to go to your dad's fundraiser instead?"  

Steve sighs and bites the inside of his cheek, tamping down the urge to argue with his boyfriend.

But, they've never really had this talk before, Steve's never told anyone about his father and his homelife. 

Right now he wishes he had.

"It's not like I have much of a choice," he huffs as Eddie rolls his eyes and scoffs, "and not all of us have someone like Wayne to encourage us to do whatever we want".

"That's such bullshit and you know it," Eddie hisses ignoring the slight flinch from Steve, "you always do this". 

What?

"You never want to come to our shows, you never want to sit in on Hellfire--"

"That's not true," Steve growls, crossing his arms over his stomach, he hunches in on himself slightly but Eddie shakes his head.

"Yes it is! When was the last time you came to a show?"

Steve wracks his brain, trying to remember the name of the bar they had played at, it wasn’t the Hideaway, it had been a bit of a drive to get there. It was a dive bar that had sounded like it was straight out of Robin Hood, The Red Lion?

"See!" Eddie takes his silence as victory and throws his hands up in the air, "what did I tell you?"

"Jesus, it was a bar show just like all of them Eddie, it's not like you guys were playing on MTV or something," Steve snaps, the last threads of his patience wearing thinner and thinner. 

"Oh fuck off, MTV is part of the problem, do you not listen when I talk?"

"I always listen to you!" Steve cries out, his voice climbs in volume and his hands shake as adrenaline spikes, "sometimes you just talk and talk and talk and you say nothing important but I always listen to you!"

"Woooow, fuck you," Eddie scoffs as he turns on his heel and opens his bedroom door, Steve follows him, fuming but wary.

"Since everything I say is bullshit, apparently, and you don't want to come to our shows or spend time with me then maybe you should just go!"

Steve halts in his tracks.

Eddie stands by the open front door to the trailer, his cheeks are red and his mouth is a flat line carved in the middle of his face.

Steve feels his heart rate tick up as he stands there frozen.

They've had disagreements before, small petty arguments but this feels big. Much bigger than any fight they've ever had. 

"Eddie-"

"Nope, unless you tell me you're coming tonight, we're done".

Oh.

And just like that, it hurts just as much as when Nancy had told him she didn't love him the previous year. It's too much, he needs to leave.

"Yeah, you know what Eddie, I don't need this," Steve says so softly that Eddie leans forward to hear before reeling back as though struck, "I don't," he shakes his head and walks past Eddle towards the open door. 

Eddie's hands twitch as though he wants to reach out to Steve, to pull him back into the trailer, but they remain at his sides.

"You're right," Eddie yells after him as Steve walks down the gravel drive to his car, "you don't need us, we don't need you, go crawling back to daddy just like always".

Steve stops walking and looks back at Eddie. The metal-head's wide brown eyes are shiny with angry tears. 

Steve feels his own angry tears pooling along his lash line.

He gets in the car and drives away, ignoring the tightness in his chest as he heads home.

***

"Okay, first of all," Robin says sharply as she drops the box at their feet and pokes him in the chest with a rigid pointer finger, "you're damn right you're happy I came with you, I am a catch!" 

Steve rolls his eyes as Robin clears her throat imperiously until he raises his hands in surrender.

"Second, he found out about your dads shit, saw you beaten to hell and back, and didn't even want to have a conversation? Fuck that noise".

"Birdy, you weren't there, and you don't even know Eddie--"

"I know you though," she continues, staring him down, "and I know if the roles were reversed, you would have at least heard him out".

Steve holds back a wince, attempting to keep his expression as neutral as possible. He knows she isn’t right, he knows he made a mistake that night walking away, they should have talked, they should have had it out. 

Steve should have told Eddie the truth. 

Then again, Eddie dropped him like it was nothing so maybe he was better off in the long run.

Strangely enough this thought doesn’t make him feel better.

"Robin," Steve sighs wearily, crossing to the wall of the living room before leaning his back against it to slide down to the floor. 

"Tell me I'm wrong," she says softly, walking towards his spot on the floor, she settles beside him and nudges his shoulder with her own.

"Tell me I'm wrong and I'll drop it," she says again, firmly this time.

Steve breathes out a sigh and brings his knees to his chest, looking towards the window. 

The view isn't much, just the street and other buildings, but the Chicago skyline seems to stretch for miles ahead of them.

"You’re not wrong," he says eventually, ignoring the crow of triumph Robin makes, "but you're not right either".

She scoffs and leans her head against his shoulder, the soft waves of her hair tickle the skin on his bare arm but the weight and warmth of her is comforting.

"Besides, it was years ago," Steve mutters, "I'm sure he's forgotten all about me by now".

tagging: @strangersteddierthings @flowercrowngods @steddierthings @steddie-there @henderdads and anyone else that would like to participate! (Please tag me with your wonderful creations! Also I apologize if you've already been tagged - feel free to ignore this!)

[steddilly]

established steddie, my love 🥰

[mrspasser]

Steddie Big Bang 2023

Behold: my fic for the Steddie Big Bang 2023!!

Home is where your heart is

Just shy over 80k, this baby took a lot of effort to get out into the world. Luckily I had @roomwithanopenfire to cheer me on. Thank you!! And of course there's @themeanderingty with their unique artwork. It's amazing to see my words translated into a visual image!

This was my first time participating in a Big Bang. It was a lot of fun to work with a team (thanks again!!!). It was a great experience, even though having a deadline is in no way benificial to my creative process.

Art by @themeanderingty Get a better look at the artwork on A03.

Some fic goodies are waiting for you underneath the line!

I have some fun fic related stuff to share:

These gems of knit sweaters (featured in the fic!) are from the 1986 British pattern book 'Wit Knits'. There are so many amazing sweaters in this book, I didn't even pick the most outrageous ones! Also, I very much want someone to knit the one with the bookworm for me, or the sweater vest with the frog. You can find the sweaters in the fic in the third chapter. They're a Christmas present ;-)

And these are some of the songs that play a part in the fic:

[resident-gay-bitch]

“Hmm.” Steve murmured. “ I think making a songwriter fall in love with me was an amazing life choice. I happen to quite like being serenaded, you know?”

- Sunshine Smile - by me, jay :)

[libraryofgage]

I know it's not the WIP Wednesday yet, but it is my birthday, so I'm gonna share the complete first chapter of Modern Steve in 80s Hawkins for your reading pleasure lmao:

"Now, Steve, you know we support you. Your father and I didn't bat an eye when you came out, and we look forward to meeting whichever nice young boy or girl you bring home. But, dear, violence is never the answer."

The words go in one ear and right out the other as Steve watches buildings rush by outside the window. He’d slip on the headphones around his neck, but Steve knows he at least owes his parents the courtesy of naked ears after they bailed him out. Really, he just wants to take a shower and change into clean clothes after spending a night in jail surrounded by equally sweaty and beat up parade-goers. Don’t get him wrong; the people were great, but the smell was atrocious. He lets his head fall against the window, eyes shutting as he breathes through a bruised rib, split lip, and swollen eye. 

"Steve, are you listening to your mother?"

"Yeah, violence bad," he mumbles, just loud enough to be heard in the otherwise silent car. At this point, he’d even prefer the stadium country that usually plays when his dad drives. 

He wishes he were back in the jail cell, swapping stories with the others who got arrested for fighting homophobic protestors, who started it, by the way. He knows his parents are disappointed in him for fighting (and, even worse, getting caught and potentially causing An Incident for them), but he felt genuinely happy sitting on the concerningly sticky floor in that cell. Even if he could go back to yesterday, he wouldn't change a damn thing after seeing three poor kids surrounded by people shouting the most vile things. 

They had looked terrified, tears crowding in their eyes as they clutched at each other, and Steve had seen red. It was a fucking pride parade, a place where kids should feel comfortable being themselves and seeing themselves in the smiling, laughing faces of strangers whose mere existence proves they’re not alone and they’ll survive. But they were being harassed by people with nothing better to do than let hate shrivel their hearts.

Steve, thankfully, hadn’t been the only one who’d seen red. He’d locked eyes with someone who had top surgery scars and a sash across their chest that read “Queer” in sparkling, rainbow letters. Next to them was a shorter woman with close-cropped hair and a flannel shirt (how she wasn’t dying in the heat, Steve will never know) with a white t-shirt underneath that had “Resting Butch Face" emblazoned across the front. The three of them had shared a nod and marched over to the kids.

He later learned that the person wearing the sash was named Daze (“They/them pronouns, unless it’s comedically appropriate to use something else,” they’d said in the jail cell, winking playfully at Steve). The butch went by Mar; she’d excitedly told Steve in the jail cell how her girlfriend would bust her out only to laugh her ass off when said girlfriend was shoved in by two cops not a second later.

What had followed the nod was Mar and Steve standing in front of the kids, creating an unmoving shield while Daze quickly gathered them close. They smiled at the three, quietly complimenting one’s rainbow hair ribbon while Steve tried to be the voice of reason (he shouldn’t have bothered, but he’s still got a little optimism inside).

The first punch was thrown by the ringleader of the protestors after Mar not-so-subtly implied that maybe he’d rather be partying with them and getting his tongue down some cute twink’s throat instead of holding signs and shouting. She’d taken the punch like a champ, and Steve’s grin mirrored hers when the wonderful, incredible term “self-defense” suddenly became applicable. 

Daze had gotten the kids out of there, keeping them calm even as more people joined in the fight, turning the little skirmish into an all out brawl. It had lasted five glorious minutes before cops finally broke it up, forcing protestors and pride-goers into cars together in zip ties. They had realized that was a bad idea when a drag queen headbutted a protestor for what he called her.

After a night in jail, bonding with his cellmates and writing down numbers with some femme’s spare lipstick on the back of a flier from an AT&T booth, his parents had arrived to bail him out. Steve had taken one look at them, at their business clothes and designer watches and worried, beyond confused expressions, and almost said he’d rather just stay behind bars for now. 

Instead, he convinced his parents to post bail for a few of his new friends, waved off their gratitude (they’d been through battle together, after all), and followed his parents out to the car after a few hugs and promises to make a group chat so they could hang out later. 

“You’re just lucky no charges were filed,” his father says, pulling Steve from his thoughts. 

He sighs, slumping down in his seat. A few seconds pass before Steve admits, “I’d do it again.” It’s the truth; he wouldn’t fucking hesitate to throw himself into the fray again. He doesn’t even know those kids’ names, but he knows they deserve more than being afraid of who they are and the monsters that masquerade in human skin around them. 

His parents glance at each other, a thousand words spoken in the brief moment of eye contact. “Steve, are you…okay?” his mother asks, her words hesitant. “I mean, you can tell us anything, dear, and we’ll do anything to make you feel better.”

Steve bites his tongue, refusing to ask how they’d manage that when they’re barely fucking home in the first place. They have a whole multi-million dollar company to run, so he gets it. They have to travel a lot, and they used to bring him along until just dropping him in Indianapolis sophomore year of high school (right after coming out to them, which he understood but was still hurt by) to have a “more grounded high school experience." Somehow worst of all, they try to make up for it with extravagant gifts and awkward conversations about whether he’s still gay or if he’s decided to be straight for the day.

They’ve yet to fully understand the concept of bisexuality, but this is far better than being kicked out of his home.

“I’m fine, Mom,” Steve says. Because he is. He’s just…tired. 

He’s tired of feeling alone in Indianapolis despite being surrounded by people. He had tried making friends, but everyone is so fucking awkward in 10th grade anyway, and the best Steve could do was embrace the “new rich kid” persona people created for him. He’d soon gained the nickname King Steve, which had only worked to make him feel like he’d somehow done something wrong in living up to their expectations. The closest he’s gotten to feeling like himself, to feeling accepted and embraced, was in that fucking jail cell.

Even worse, Steve is tired of this ache that tugs at the base of his spine and the pit of his heart like he’d find something that’s missing if only he’d just follow the pull. 

He doesn’t know how to explain any of that, though, so Steve just sighs again and says, “Maybe…maybe I could do with some down time. Like, a gap year before college or something. I think I just need some time to figure myself out a little more and decide what I want to do with my life before jumping right back into school. Does…does that make sense?”

“Yeah, Steve, it makes a lot of sense,” his father says, flashing him a tiny smile through the rearview mirror. “So, where do you want to go? Hawaii? Miami? Venice is nice this time of year.”

Steve can’t help a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “Nah, nothing like that. I think small town vibes are more what I’m going for here.”

His father just hums quietly, sharing another one of those looks with Steve’s mom. He misses this one, but he’d probably be suspicious of them if he hadn’t. He would have known immediately that they were about to do something absolutely ridiculous but well-meaning but so clearly telling of their ignorance when it comes to how people who aren’t wealthy approach problems.

But he doesn’t see, so he doesn’t know.

And when he looks back on this moment a few months later, after the absolute ride of his fucking life, Steve will think it’s a good thing he didn’t notice. If he had, he’d have said something, and then he’d have missed out on all the fun.

[resident-bowie-bitch]

just posted the seventh chapter of Soccer Dads if you'd like to read :)

Sometimes as a single parent, you gotta look out for other single parents. But sometimes Steve and Eddie look out just a little more than usual.

[justrandomfandomstm]

Now, don't get me wrong, I love the fluff filled confessions and quiet 'i love you's'

But

Theres just something about the absolute desperation, anger and absolute passion filled emotion when the confessions are angry

Like my fave ships I follow are more often than not 'something' to lovers. And My fave type of love is like the one that creeps up on them

But to counter that softness we have the confessions

The heartbreaking confessions made in a fit of anger sparked by jealousy or something. The way that it just explodes... I just... I just... I can't

[fragilecapric0rnn]

having older lumax brain worms and its all @judasofsuburbia's fault

[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>>

[candied-cae]

The First "Like" and First "Love"

Chapter 1/1 - - - Read it on AO3

Word Count : 2,250

Summary: When the end of the world is over and everyone can feel alive and like themselves again, Steve and Eddie drift together to find something all their own. 

... Aka, the first time Steve tells Eddie "I like you" and the first time Eddie tells Steve "I love you".

More ST Fics -----------------------------------------------------

It started with Steve and Eddie hanging out, as so much often did those days.

The two of them gravitated to each other after it was all over. Between matching scars and babysitting shifts, they found themselves having more in common than just surviving the Upside Down. Steve talked to Eddie, and Eddie talked to Steve. Whenever they did that, it was like they made their own little bubble. Just a little pocket of air in the world they shared. Of course, if the group was present, they’d quickly find something thrown at them for ignoring their kids and friends.

“Rude!” they’d call the two for not sharing the attention.

So they started to find those little pockets on their own sometimes. Late nights were spent in either's house. Sitting together after movie credits rolled, neither bothering to get up and change the tape or ask if someone needed to leave. They never seemed to want to head off anyway. So, as the night dragged on, they'd talk. Form those little bubbles of just themselves in between hits of weed and the kind of talkative that only comes when they were too tired to keep their mouths shut. Honesty spilling out unabashed under the cover of starlight.

Vulnerability and self-discovery went hand in hand on nights like those.

It was the end of one of those very nights when Steve suggested they get out of the house. It was nearing three in the morning, middle of June, so the sun wasn’t up yet, but it would be in a matter of time. And for some inexplicable reason, Steve just wanted to be outside for the sunrise.

“Where should we go?” Eddie asked, his voice starting to go rough after hours of after-joint conversations, which they couldn’t interrupt for something as silly as getting something to drink.

“Somewhere quiet.” Steve suggested, head lazily lolling on the couch,” Somewhere pretty.”

He was being vague and unhelpful; he knew he was. But almost every place he knew in Hawkins was either tainted with memories of fighting for his life or had absolutely no view to watch the sun. He had no clue where he wanted to take them. Steve just wanted to get Eddie there and be by his side when the world changed.

“I might know a spot like that,” Eddie answered anyway, a smile tugging at his cheek in the sneaky way he liked to wear it as he reached for his keys.

They climbed into Eddie’s van, and he took them away. Steve just closed his eyes and hung his head out of the rolled-down passenger window, letting the wind play with his hair as they made their way to… somewhere. They ended up arriving at this hill off the highway on the edge of town. Eddie parked them off the shoulder and waved Steve to follow him as they went over the mound, settling on the other side that faced east. The grassy pile completely separated them from the road and pointed them right at the sight to come. The sky was already brightening, becoming that baby blue it does when the sun has almost breached the horizon.

It was quiet. It was pretty. It was perfect.

It overlooked this little glade that was bustling with colorful wildflowers and weeds. All sorts of beauty just sitting in this bypassed patch in Smalltown, Indiana. And it was just theirs. There was no other sound, no other distraction. No one else was up, or if they were, they weren’t driving on the highway yet. It was like the whole world had faded into the background, and it was just the two of them. Together. Waiting.

They waited in comfortable silence, laid down but propped up against their arms as the sky started gleaming with yellow. ‘The Golden Hour’ Steve recalls this moment is supposed to be. Or at least, that’s what people like Jonathan called it. Something about the way the light reflected or the angles or the color or something about it was just supposed to make for the best pictures for portraits. Makes people look that much nicer, he supposed.

He’s never thought much of it himself. Dawn, for him, always meant things like driving to early morning swim practices or the end of all-nighters spent defeating monsters or coming off of ragers. But when he looks to his left and sees Eddie. Sees the way the sun is lighting him up against the breathtaking backdrop… he gets it.

And suddenly, it's all he can do. Just look at Eddie. There wasn't any other option his mind could conjure. And he felt this pull he’d been feeling before. This tug to get closer. This need to be more. To be more than Eddie’s friend, a feeling he barely diagnosed himself and knows could overtake him.

But it's all he can think about.

“Golden Hour,” he let the words absentmindedly slip from his lips as he gazed upon the other man's profile.

Eddie heard the mumble without catching the words, so he followed the sound to look back over at Steve.

And Steve almost felt bad. He almost had the decency to be embarrassed to be caught staring. He almost regretted letting the words out to expose him.

But now Eddie’s looking at him and not the sun. Now he got to see those deep brown eyes looking back at him while Eddie’s face was glazed with that magical morning glow. And he can’t bring himself to be anything but happy his thoughtless mutter brought Eddie’s attention to him.

"What's up? I got something on my face?" Eddie asked him, rubbing a hand across his cheeks and chin.

"I like you."

Steve said it quickly, like ripping off a bandaid. Like he couldn't stand another minute not saying it. Because he really couldn’t.

"Like, I really like you.” They’ve just been lounging on a hill for the last hour, but even so, he said it breathless and urgent with veins pumping with adrenaline,” And it doesn’t make any sense, because, look at us. There's no reason we should've even talked long enough to get to know each other. But we did. And now we spend time together like we're the only people in the world. And when we aren't alone, you know and care about all the people I can’t imagine living without. And you’re so fun and exciting, while also finding ways to be warm and kind. And you know what I’ve been through, my past, and I know yours. And you challenge me to be a better person without making me feel guilty for taking so long to figure it out. And you do all these incredible things like they just make sense, like they are all that makes sense to you. And now, I can't stop myself from thinking, every time we're together, how much better it'd be if I could pull you in and-"

Eddie ended his runaway words with his hands, one on Steve's cheek, the other at the base of his neck.

It was everything he’d ever wanted to hear from Steve. His own longing returned. And it wasn’t just a passing interest, it was a real confession. Dripping with praise and adorn and meaning in every word. It meant something to Steve. Eddie meant something to Steve.

"Shut up and kiss me already," Eddie said, voice near begging as they looked at just each other, sunrise forgotten.

And before Eddie could wish for anything more, Steve was quick to comply with the request as they bathed in sunlight and summer air and shared their first kiss.

-

Then they were dating. They’d been dating for a while, announcements to their friends and begrudging support while they all grappled with how annoying the two would be about it. It was fun being annoying as boyfriends. It was fun doing anything as boyfriends.

Now, it’s important to note that Eddie’s never figured himself impulsive.

Not really.

He enjoyed the methodical planning and thought he could put into something before presenting it to someone's bated attention. The work and time invested to make something truly spectacular… it was intoxicating to make all the effort worth it. He loved practicing a kind of faux-impulsivity too. Like slipping on an outfit that said he was some wild thing, one who lived his life at the behest of passion without reason. To curate the story. The one that said he was a freak, just like everyone expected him to be. But it was all carefully, strategically planned.

There was just so much beauty in the attention spent to do something right.

So much power in the intention put in so it was perfect before it was seen.

Even when it came to Steve, he loved the planning part of being a boyfriend. Spent his alone time brainstorming date ideas, writing love notes and songs, preparing surprises, and practicing flirtatious lines. All of it. Plotting something to sweep Steve off his feet was half the fun of doing it.

All this to say that he always figured he'd do something big and dramatic the first time he said 'I love you'. Grand gestures, the size of plot points in love-sick movies kind of dramatic. Like maybe he'd say it at a holiday party or on an anniversary to make it public and showy on a special occasion, or he could fill a house they shared with roses and candlelight and whatever romantic idols he deemed worthy in a few years to make it private and intimate. He figured it'd be something like that.

Because, well, he always figured he'd need a few years to feel ready to say it.

He could wax on about how handsome Steve is, how dedicated, how kind, selfless, caring, strong, and just about every other good word there was. He could do those things, spend days regaling to Steve how amazing he finds him, how enraptured he is. And yet, he never figured it’d be easy to say ‘I love you’. He’d never said it before, aside from Wayne when Eddie felt particularly softhearted. But that was a different kind of love, he knew. Eddie never had someone right enough to say this kind of love to. So, surely he’d need a lot of time to build to it, to really understand something so new, to declare it was love.

But, in opposition to everything he figured about himself... one night, Eddie was just bursting with the need to say it.

They sat slumped together under a shared blanket. Steve was all spread out on the couch where Eddie laid mostly beside him but a little on top of him, held in his arms while he rested his head on Steve's (sadly covered) chest. His ear was planted right over Steve's heart, hearing the slow thumping that told Eddie how comfortable they both were. No fears between them. But Eddie's pulse started to pace, and it had nothing to do with the movie on the screen.

"Steve," Eddie called for him as he lifted his head.

His boyfriend looked back at him, patiently waiting for the rest of what he had to say while a woman on the tv screen started crying those pretty movie star tears over something Eddie didn’t bother to pick up.

In the space between the words, Eddie's brain reminded him that they'd only been together a few months. That it’s still too soon to say such a thing. That he doesn’t want to scare Steve off because he’s just feeling too much. But then his heart reminded him how he felt, and he couldn't bring himself to care less about how little time they’ve shared so far.

"I love you.” He said,” I know it's a lot and we haven't even-"

"Really?" Steve asked him, his hands clutched around Eddie tighter now, eyes wide and... scared.

Eddie just nodded his head," Yeah."

"Say it again."

"What?"

"Please."

But Steve’s voice didn't sound commanding. It was begging. His eyes grew misty and such a sight threatened to break Eddie's heart.

"I love you." He repeated, taking Steve's hand in his own and lifting it to his lips to press a kiss into his knuckles.

And Steve cried.

He curled up into Eddie and cried tears full of both joy and fear. He remembered the days long past when Nancy said she loved him and the days that followed when she said it was all a lie. Steve had been afraid for a long time that no one would love him. Or that maybe no one could.

And then Eddie goes and says it.

Like it’s nothing. Like it’s meant to be and makes sense. Like it’s easy.

And even though Steve’s scared, even though he is crying all over this milestone in their relationship, Eddie’s there. With his arms around Steve now, fingers running through his hair and saying nothing. Just letting Steve feel all the things he needs to feel without judgment. And Steve stopped worrying that it could be another lie.

When Steve ran out of tears, he pulled back. Looked up at Eddie with puffy eyes and pink cheeks. And he sighed a deep, feeling everything kind of sigh. Then he reached up to grab Eddie’s face, and just before he planted a kiss on his lips, Steve whispered back,” I love you, too.”

And it was the truth.

They loved each other.

What a beautiful thing to share.

[afewproblems]

Warm my Cold and Tired Heart (Part Three)

Part One and Part Two

After that night, it’s as though Eddie has taken it upon himself to ensure that Steve is never alone, he's just always…there?

The kids want ice cream on a random Saturday? Eddie is there to tag along. The kids D&D matches of course go without saying, Eddie had even gone so far as to dust off an old character to join the party and let Will run a campaign for old times sake. 

Robin drops by with the classifieds for the pair of them to peruse, Eddie invites himself along and shows up later with a six pack and a story of his own experience for nearly every type of listing that Robin has circled. 

When Eddie leaves Robin whirls around slapping Steve's arms with wild hands, Steve yelps and raises his own to defend his vulnerable face, "Robin! What the F--"

"You like him!" She hisses in Steve's face, "when were you going to tell me?"

Steve stills, which only seems to fuel Robin's indignation and she tosses her hands in the air above her head and stands up. 

He feels so much smaller as she paces back and forth in front of him, rambling out a list, something to do with music taste, and numbering off her fingers with each point, the words trail off as Steve bends forward with his face in his hands. 

"Robin," he says through his fingers as she walks towards him. She kneels in front of him, peering into his hidden face. 

He can't, saying it out loud, right now, it's too raw, too real. Eddie is too nice…

And Steve? Well, it doesn't matter.

Robin reaches out and gently peels back his hands, keeping hold of them in her small ones. Her eyes linger on his own before she scowls briefly and sighs. 

"Okay, okay dingus," Robin says softly as she squeezes his hands, "but we are going to talk about this". 

It comes out as more of a question which makes Steve grin at the absurdity of it all, he's reduced Robin, wonderful, brash Robin to this quiet uncertain person kneeling in front of him.

And he just can't do that to her. 

Steve takes a deep breath through his mouth and releases it slowly through his nose, it helps with the churning of his stomach and the anxious racing of his heart.

"No, no its okay Rob, we can, I can, talk about it," he hesitates and rubs a hand roughly over his mouth, "not really much to talk about though, it's stupid and it'll go away". 

Robin tilts her head and narrows her eyes at him, "What does that mean?" She asks, as she crosses her arms loosely, her posture seems relaxed but she can't hide the tension in her shoulders.

"It'll go away, I don't, it doesn't matter Robin, really," Steve grits out, "Eddie is just…"

"Just what?" 

Too funny, too sarcastic, a better friend to the kids, a good listener, always knows how to cut the tension with a joke. 

Too good for Steve. Just like everyone else.

"Just a crush Rob, and those don't mean anything okay, maybe it's not even a crush, maybe it's just like," he fits his hands together, intertwining his fingers, the words stop short though as Robin's eyebrow raises.

Steve sighs and shakes his head, "I don't know what to do Robbie," he whispers and something in his tone softens the expression on her face. 

"Well, I can't say how helpful my advice on a 'non-crush' will be," Robin hums, throwing up exaggerated finger quotes as she continues, "but, I've been told I have the potential to be an excellent listener if you just want to talk or vent or whatever".

Steve laughs and reaches out to push her face gently away with his one hand, the other rises to catch her own flailing arms as she squawks and valiantly attempts to defend herself. 

They dissolve into thrown elbows and giggles, Robin fights dirty, pulling the back of Steve's shirt over his head, Steve concedes as they both attempt to catch their breath on the floor of the Harrington living-room.

"Thanks Robbie," Steve mumbles after he removes the edge of his shirt from his head, he ruffles a hand through his staticy locks and grins widely at his best friend. 

Robin smiles back and knocks a gentle fist into his shoulder, "anytime doofus".

Eddie's presence continues unimpeded, Steve both loves and hates it. 

He loves being around Eddie, his energy is infectious and never fails to make Steve smile. 

But, a small vicious voice never fails to creep in, just as an evening ends or they part ways to drop off the kids, a voice that reminds Steve, you don't deserve nice things, nice things never stay nice for long.

It was the Arcade this time around, Eddie offered his van to cart the kids all at once while Jonathan brought Will, El, and Max in the Buyers station wagon. Steve was surprised when the invitation extended to him as well.

“It wouldn’t be the same without you Stevie, plus if Lucas thinks I’m going to be able to help with the hoops shooter then he’s dreamin’,” Eddie says with his trademark dimpled grin, the one that fills Steve’s gut with warmth at the sight, he laughs and knocks into Eddie’s shoulder with his own. 

“Such a hardship, what would you do without me I wonder,” Steve says with a smirk. 

It's easy today, he’d managed to get a good six hours of sleep the night before and Dustin’s mother, Claudia, had even sent Steve home from their last hangout with a green bean casserole - which he’d immediately stuffed into the freezer to make it last longer. Green beans or not, it was a home cooked meal Steve didn’t have to make himself. He tried not to think about the ever expanding empty spaces in his pantry. 

As soon as they pulled into the parking lot the kids tear out of the van, their voices melding with the chorus of laughter and soft top forties mix trailing out from the open doors of the arcade. Steve smiles at the joyful laugh that bursts from Eddie at the kids' antics. It’s nice to hear that laugh more and more Steve finds.

Lucas hangs back at the van watching his friends walk through the doors, he puts his hands in his hoodie pockets and leans back against the vehicle. 

“Lucas, you’re not heading in?” Steve says as he opens the passenger door and steps out, Eddie is not too far behind him as he pulls a cigarette out of his vest pocket and brings a silver zippo to his lips. 

“I’m waiting for Max, she still needs help sometimes getting out of cars,” Lucas says with a shrug, “would’ve been easier if she had just come with us”. The words come out bitter but soft, he crosses his arms and leans back against the van heavily, kicking a rock by his foot with more force than necessary. 

Steve’s eyes dart from Eddie and back to Lucas, the kid can certainly be cagey and hot headed when he wants to be, almost giving Mike a run for his money, but Steve hasn’t seen this side of Lucas in awhile. 

“Well,” Steve says slowly, stepping into Lucas’s space and leaning against the same door of the van, “we definitely didn’t have enough room for all of us to go in Eddie’s van, and I know that Max and El wanted some time to catch up with each other,” he tries to catch Lucas’s eye but his face remains steadfastly pointed towards the ground and the rock the now lay out of reach. 

Steve spots the Buyers car heading down the road, closer and closer towards the parking lot, he tilts his head towards the oncoming car, “You have about thirty seconds to decide if you want to be a shit about it, or if you want to spend a nice day with your girlfriend”. 

Lucas rolls his eyes and throws his shoulders away from the van, his face twists into a fierce glare at Steve, “I’m not being a shit,” he snarls, his fingers curling into fists.

Steve raises his hands in front of him, palms up, “Lucas, relax, you can be mad but you can’t take it out on other people, so fifteen seconds, what’s it gonna be?”

All at once the fight drains out of the kid, his shoulders droop as though the taught strings holding him up have been severed. He nods, his head bowed, refusing to make eye contact. 

Steve sighs, he runs a hand through his hair and quick as a whip uses his pointer finger to poke Lucas’s chest before bringing the same finger up to catch his nose, the action startles a laugh out of the kid.

“Better?” Steve says quietly as Jonathan pulls into the space across from them, El waves from the backseat with a jubilant expression on her face, Will smiles through the windshield and waves as well, although it's a more sedate wave than his sister. Jonathan gets out of the car and heads to the back to open the door for Max on the driver's side.

“Thanks Steve,” Lucas says quietly as he takes off to help Jonathan with Max. The doctors said she would not need crutches or a wheelchair long term but she still has a long road to recovery ahead of her mobility and the loss of ninety percent of her vision. Max needed as many people in her corner as she could get. 

“You’re really good with them,” a voice in his ear says lightly, he jumps at the sudden proximity of Eddie at his shoulder, “handled that like a champ man”.

Steve shrugs and turns away from the others. Eddie drops the nearly finished cigarette and snuffs out the faint embers with his shoe; the smell of smoke curls around him like a cat, clinging to his wild hair and the jean fabric of his vest. It isn’t necessarily even a nice smell, but it’s synonymous with Eddie, and Steve can’t help but breathe in deeply when Eddie steps back into his space. 

“Nah, that was easy, you want a real challenge you should try getting Mike to agree to anything you say,” Steve huffed with a small laugh, “you could tell him that the the sky was an amazing shade of blue and he’d be over here insisting it was actually purple and you were a moron”.

Eddie cackles and swings an arm out to wrap around Steve’s shoulder in a tight side hug that leaves him breathless, a bubble of nervous laughter rolls out of Steve, he can feel his ears and cheeks slowly heat at the sudden touch. 

“You’re hiding a genuine sense of humour under all that hair Stevie,” Eddie says as he reaches up to card the fingers of his free hand through Steve’s hair. 

The flush running over Steve’s ears and cheeks lights a trail of pink down his neck towards his chest, this was…new?

Eddie had certainly been physical before, from high fives, to play-fighting with Dustin, to doling out hugs after he had finally woken up at the hospital; but this was different. His hands were one of the more expressive parts of Eddie, he gestured wildly as he spoke, letting the frenetic energy ping from limb to limb when he was particularly excited about something. 

They were small events, something that wouldn’t even register if Robin or even Dustin had done it, a hand on the small of his back, fingers in his hair --well maybe Steve would be hard pressed to let either of those two touch his hair like that but…this was Eddie.

“Hey,” he squawks, batting Eddie’s hands away and ducking his face to hide the flames that have seemingly engulfed his entire being as Jonathan and the kids make their way closer to the pair of them, “I’m plenty funny, my wit is just wasted on the plebeians around me most of the time”. 

“Plebeian? Don’t hurt yourself there Harrington, don’t you usually work within a two syllable maximum?” Eddie crows with a smirk, his brown eyes crinkle at the corners as the dimples reveal themselves, he ducks away from the shove Steve sends his way. 

“Shut up, I know lots of words,” Steve grumbles, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

“Yeah like, You-Are-A-Dork,” Max calls out, counting off on each finger with a shit-eating grin. The kids and Jonathan walk slowly to give Max just a bit more time to catch up with the crutches. Lucas walks beside and just ahead of her, looking ready to catch her each time her feet catch on a loose rock on the asphalt. 

“Everybody’s against me,” Steve huffs as Eddie cackles and Jonathan grins with an exasperated shake of his head.

El waves at something behind them and takes off, skipping across the parking lot, Mike appears at the main entrance hollering at everyone to ‘hurry-the-hell-up!’ or the best games would be taken.

Steve rolls his eyes.

They were at the arcade…on a Saturday…and with it being one of the few places on mainstreet that had suffered minimal damage during the near-apocalypse - the place was always packed.

Will jogs ahead as well, though he stops momentarily to wait for Lucas and Max. 

“Oh you heard him,” Max grumbles, she adjusts the crutches under her armpits and swings them forward to continue, “All the best games will be gone, well that would just be the worst thing that could ever happen to us. Oh wait”. 

Lucas and Will laugh as the three of them follow after El and Mike, disappearing through the doors.

“I don’t know how someone so small can be so sarcastic,” Jonathan says, the words soft and smooth as he leans in conspiratorially, “your turn Harrington”. 

Steve snorts and tries to ignore the knot of anxiety that tightens in his chest. Things have been okay with Jonathan --they aren’t unfriendly with each other, especially now after everything they’ve all been through, but they aren’t exactly close. 

It was certainly better than getting his face smashed in though, he’d take awkward small talk over a back alley brawl any day. 

“Buyers,” Eddie says, lifting his hand into a high five that Jonathan slowly returns, a bewildered expression on his face, “taking over as chauffeur for Stevie over here?”

Eddie brings an arm around Steve’s neck, tilting his whole torso down and throwing him off balance with the sudden change. Steve barks out a laugh that sounds vaguely like a yelp and grins widely as he is pulled closer into Eddie - nearly tucked into his side. 

The fading cigarette smoke clings to Eddie’s hair and denim vest, it mingles with something spicy that makes Steve want to pull closer and shove his nose behind Eddie’s ear.

“Yeah, uh it's fine,” Jonathan says, the words are mild but the tone is strange, Steve freezes and shifts to stand up straight, mourning the loss of warmth from Eddie’s arm as it drops to let him go easily.

“I just have a shift tonight,”Jonathan continues, clearing his throat as he speaks, “so as long as you guys are still okay to hang with the kids for their game, my mom’s working and Hopper’s going out with Callahan tonight so,” his eyes move from Steve’s face to Eddie’s and back again, a small furrow grows between his brows as he scans Steve a second time. 

“Hey, Harrington and I got it, don’t we big boy?” Eddie says with a wolfish grin, knocking his shoulder into Steve's own. 

Steve freezes at the words, just like the first time, and fights the wild grin that itches to spread over his face.

Jonathan's eyes narrow slightly, flicking back and forth between Steve and Eddie. They linger on Steve for a moment before he shrugs, dropping his hands into his jeans jacket pockets.

"That's fine with me," Jonathan hums in his soft voice, "I mean between the two of you I'm sure they'll survive," Jonathan laughs as Eddie squawks and claps a hand to his own chest, the picture of indignation.

"How dare you Byers," Eddie hisses as he steps away and places his other hand against his forehead, "I can't believe this, are we going to take that Stevie?" Eddie says, pitching his voice in mock despair.

Before he can stop it, a thought blooms in his mind, spreading like ink through water.

'Oh…I love you,' 

It's different than what he had felt for Nancy, than what he had felt for Robin, it's softer than before. Like the embers from a fire warming him from within. It should be scary, but it's not.

For the first time in awhile Steve feels comfortable.

"No way man," Steve says with a wry smile, "between the two of us, we can keep them alive until Max and El change their minds and then, we're done for." 

Jonathan laughs brightly and taps his finger against his nose, Eddie huffs but he's still smiling broadly. 

They can handle tonight. 

***

Steve ascends the stairs from the basement two at a time, balancing empty cans of pop from the kids' latest D&D session in his arms, he smiles lightly at the chorus of laughter that trails after him and pushes the door to the main floor open. 

Warm light hits his face as he crosses the living room of the Byers-Hopper temporary household, he steps deliberately into the plush high-pile area rug and wiggles his toes into the fibres for just a moment, everything about this home screams comfort, softness - it’s everything his own empty staged house isn’t. The pillows are mismatched and nearing threadbare, the recliner in the corner, covered in corduroy patches and a permanent divot in the middle where Hopper spends his evenings with Joyce and the kids. 

This is home, this is safe. 

Steve sighs and continues towards the closed door of the kitchen before hushed voices catch his attention, through the serving hatch two voices trickle into the living room alongside the brighter white fluorescent light that pools on the carpeted floor and his socked feet. 

“I’m just saying--”

“I got it Buyers, ‘be careful’”

Eddie’s voice takes on a syrupy quality, fake and condescending to Jonathan, Steve frowns, the elder Buyers must have been back early from his shift at the pizza place on the far side of town.

“I mean it Munson, just be careful with Steve, I’ve seen the way he’s been looking at you--”

“Jesus,” Eddie growls, the syrup in his tone dissipates with the sudden heat flooding his words, “I got it under control, relax man.”

Steve swallows, not daring to breathe, why would Eddie need to be careful around him? Why would Jonathan be warning Eddie about him, weren’t they past all that?

Granted, it's always easier for the person who made the mistakes to want to move on from them, put a bandaid on and pretend everything is normal, of course Jonathan isn’t over it. 

How could he be, it wasn’t as though they had ever really talked about it, the cruel words that Steve had thrown in his face, the rumours fueled by anger and hurt that he had spread with the help of Tommy and Carol.

Steve thinks of Jonathan and Will now, how Jon had given the kid a quick hug earlier in the afternoon before he had left for work, how he had let one arm travel up so he could cup Will’s head to quickly ruffle his hair - but this had distracted Will for long enough to give him one last squeeze. 

If there was something in his life that Steve wished he could undue, that he could take back, it would be the rumour that Jonathan had killed Will himself. 

Jonathan was right. 

He was right to warn Eddie, to let him know about who Steve really was, what he was capable of. 

Steve swallows past the lump that begins to solidify in his throat. He stands for just a moment longer, still awkwardly holding the empty cans he collected from the kids. He breathes in once, twice, before turning on his heel and heading for the front door. 

Jonathan was home now, as was Eddie, it wasn’t as though the kids would be alone at this point. 

Steve knows Joyce will be annoyed with him for leaving, especially without saying goodbye to her or the kids, but he just can’t be in there anymore. Not where he doesn’t belong.

Steve unlatches the front door and lets it close behind him with a soft snick. He places the cans gently on the step, behind the pillar so the wind wouldn’t take the empty aluminium and toss them around the yard, and that’s when he remembers.

“Of-fucking-course,” he hisses with a shudder, they had all come with Eddie. Steve’s car had been left with Wayne two days earlier, having finally been convinced by Robin and Eddie to let him take a look at it. 

Leaving him effectively stranded, useless, without wheels. 

Steve shiveres as a particularly rough wind tears over the gravel driveway, a hint of moisture in the cool spring breeze threatens as droplets hit sporadically across his face and the thin grey bomber jacket he left the house in earlier that day. 

Steve turns back to the house for a moment, soft light streams through the gaps in the curtains illuminating half of his face in the dark of their driveway. 

 He turns and walks down the remaining length of the driveway until the last sliver of light illuminating his figure disappears, allowing him to be swallowed by the shadowy lane. 

Steve zips up his jacket, letting the zipper nearly pinch the skin of his neck in his haste to shut out the cold. He reaches up to cup his ears, cursing the wind as it picks up around him. Steve hadn’t bothered with a hat earlier, content to ride in the warmth of Eddie’s van with the kids, listening to their excited buzz around Will and his new adventure he had planned with Eddie’s advice. 

It was better this way, he should have stuck to what he knew, hung back more rather than let himself be coddled and sucked into this strange family he had found himself in. 

He’d let himself forget, allowed himself to want too much and hope. Steve swallowed against the tightening feeling in his throat, he’d still have Robin, and Dustin of course. But this was always a temporary thing, and now that it was over… 

‘Snap out of it,’ he thinks to himself in a voice that sounds, once again, eerily like Robin, ‘a pity party isn’t going to make any of this better. Just go home and go to bed, nothing good ever happens after 11:00PM’. He shakes himself roughly, though it turns into a full body shiver as a biting wind collides with him, sending Steve stumbling into a gravel patch, his shoe slides with the rocks pitching his legs forward and out from under him. 

He careens to the asphalt, turning just in time to let his shoulder hit the ground first rather than his head --he didn’t need another concussion on top of everything else. 

“Fuck,” Steve breathes out, the lump in his throat pulls on the single syllable, drawing it out into a moan. 

Headlights from an oncoming truck on the other side of the highway illuminate his position on the road, Steve manages to roll to his knees, grimacing at the pinch of gravel that stick to his jeans and hands as he tries to stand. His ankle throbs, as does his shoulder from the impact.

“Harrington? Steve?” a familiar voice calls out, the car turns out to be Hopper’s pickup, the voice belongs to Hopper.

Hopper, who has exited the vehicle and approaches Steve from the side, slowly as one would a wild animal. 

“You hurt kid?” Hopper asks, in a voice Steve would never have associated with the gruff man in a million years - and certainly not directed his way, it’s soft and gentle -- his El voice, his Will voice, Joyce calls it.. 

“No,” Steve mumbles brushing off his pants, releasing the dust and gravel that remained from his fall, “I’m good Hop,” 

Hopper looks down the road, down in the direction of the Buyers house before he turns his attention back to Steve, his blue eyes scanning his face reminding Steve of just who he was talking to.

“Yeah,” Hopper sighs out, his moustache twitches as he quirks his mouth to the side, “normally I don’t appreciate someone lying to my face like that, but I think I’ll let it go for tonight, you look like you need a bit of a break, huh kid?” 

Steve lowers his gaze to the ground before shrugging, he shoves his hands into his pockets and keeps his mouth firmly shut. 

Hopper sighs again, for a moment Steve thinks he’ll turn around entirely, get back into the car and leave him there.

“Get in the truck Steve,” Hopper grunts at him as he steps forward to offer a large hand for Steve to take. 

He grabs it reluctantly and slowly gets to his feet with a small hiss of pain, his ankle protests slightly from the strain.

Steve limps over to the passenger door, waving off Hopper as he tries to walk him around the vehicle, he's certainly had worse than road rash, this is nothing.

It's tense inside the vehicle as Steve shuts the door and buckles himself in, he brushes his hands against his dusty jeans and grimaces as additional gravel and grit comes away. 

Hopper keeps glancing at him while Steve stares out the passenger window, his forehead placed against the cool glass.

“So," Hopper says after clearing his throat abruptly, "you wanna tell me why you left the kids early?”

“I didn’t leave them alone," Steve blurts out defensively, as he sits up properly, "Jonathan is there, and so is Eddie--”

“You’re not in trouble Steve, relax, I know you wouldn’t have just left them alone, you’re not that kind of kid".

“Not anymore,” Steve mutters quietly. He can feel eyes on him again but Steve tilts his head away once more to stare resolutely out the window, not daring to make eye contact. 

Hopper turns his gaze back to the road, he seems to chew on the words he wants to say before thinking better of it.

Hopper clears his throat again, “Look, I’m not the best person to talk to about,” he gestures with one hand and a circular motion towards his chest, his other hand remains resolutely on the steering wheel, “feelings or hard shit like that but you know you can come to any one of us about what you’re going through alright?”

“Joyce is better at this,” Hopper says in that soft voice again, “but we’re here kid? I know you’re folks aren’t like that for you but we are, we can be, if you want?”

“It's fine Hop--”

“Is it Steve?" Hopper cuts across him, his voice climbs in volume, "The kids are worried about you, Wayne told us about the house--”

“That's none of your business," Steve hisses, horrified by the traitorous heat and painful sting behind his eyes, "and since when do you guys talk to each other?”

Hopper says nothing for a moment, but his large hands grip the steering wheel with white knuckles and Steve tries not to panic.

“So it's true then?” Hopper grinds out eventually, he shakes his head and Steve's stomach drops as shame curdles in his stomach.

“So what if it is?” 

“Dammit Steve," Hopper shouts, throwing his right hand against the steering wheel with a crack, "Why haven’t you told anyone what is going on with you? What are you going to do if it sells?”

The crack of the hand against the steering wheel is the last straw, Steve grapples with his seatbelt buckle and pulls at the fabric running across his chest, it's too much.

“Let me out," Steve says harshly, "I’ll walk the rest of the way".

“What? No, what is the matter with you," Hopper's voice climbs even higher, "I’m trying to--”

But Steve isn’t listening any more, his heart pounds to the words, ‘Get-Out, Get-Out’, that resonate over and over inside his head, he unbuckles himself clumsily and flings open the door before jumping out. 

Hopper, realizing what is happening, slows down just enough that the impact Steve's feet make against the pavement does nothing to slow his movement as he takes off down the residential road, once again putting his track skills to the test. 

Steve ignores Hopper's voice as he throws himself down the sidewalk, one foot in front of the other, running like the devil and the gaping maw of Hell are hot on his heels. 

Steve doesn’t look back.

He had never really liked the track team, or the sport that much, swimming and basketball had been easier to get into, easier to lose himself in the movement or the plays the coach would give them.

But track, running, always left his mind to wander, and that was never a good thing. 

It was too much, the house, the nightmares, the kids were pulling away, Robin was busy with her own life, Nancy and Jonathan had come back together like nothing had ever happened, Eddie had healed and put himself back together so easily. 

And Steve was stuck. In danger of being left behind if he wasn’t careful. It would happen again, just like his parents had abandoned him there in Hawkins, these people he had come to think of as family, would eventually leave him too. 

There are tears pouring down his face by the time he stumbles home, his lungs burn and the ankle he had most certainly twisted could no longer support his full weight. He limps the rest of the way, nearly collapsing up the steps to his front door.

Steve pulls his keys out of his back pants pocket with shaking hands and bites down a sharp breath that catches wetly against his tongue. He runs his hand over his face, under his nose from his knuckle to the crook of his arm to catch all the snot and tears that had gathered there, pitiful, gross, get it together Harrington, he thinks lowly. 

He shoves the key into the lock roughly and steps into the entryway before closing the door behind him and locking the deadbolt. 

As the door closes, it’s as though the other shoe finally drops. The deadbolt slides into place, sealing the entryway behind him, and Steve Harrington falls apart.

Part Four - Final Part Up!

[steddilly]

I have no idea if I'll actually have this finished for December, but this WIP Wednesday is a little snippet of a festive sequel to my Cat Dads Steddie where they've decided to adopt another cat and it's 100% fluff I love it.

Okay, so there's a tiny bit of angst, the littlest smidge later on where the cats don't get along, but it doesn't last long because my heart can't cope with it. Hopefully coming in December!

[idiotcurls]

Heatwave

Okay, listen. I’m trying to write a fanfic about Steddie, because this is my life now?  Maybe I’ll post it on ao3 if I feel very brave. 

This is a part of Steve’s POV 

--

The heat has been unbearable for the last couple of days. Steve was sweating, while sitting still. After his shifts, he hid away in his parents home. There was a pool in the garden, which sparkled in the sunlight, promising sweet relief. But he was avoiding the common rooms of the  house, when his parents were home. He also especially  avoided the pool, it brought back painful memories of endless dinners at the Holland's house, before they  sold it, once they ran out of money to spend on looking for Barb. 

Besides that, nobody really looked after the water, so it already developed a greenish hue. 

Steve always saw the guilt in Nancy's eyes, sometimes the anger she felt towards herself, the world and also him, every time he tried to enjoy himself in the garden since then. 

After a while they both felt it in every kiss. None of them talked about it, put it into words, but it was there. It was in the air. 

Sometimes, he saw Barb, sitting on the edge of the pool. It wasn’t Steve’s own memory, but he saw the picture Jonathan took, with the camera he dropped and it haunted him. So much indeed, that it became a colorful, vivid memory. So was her delicate, dead body, being eaten, the vines extracting every drop of life she had in her. He wasn’t there when Nancy had to find her, but in his mind's eye, he saw her. 

How many times did he wake up, a muffled scream on his lips, because his mind imagined one of the kids wrapped up in vines, with dead eyes, a creature crawling out of their lifeless mouths, which has been feasting on their insides. 

The naked helplessness he felt, in the face of death. So unchangeable. The Steve he was in high school thought, with charm and a good family name, you could make everything go your way, if you had to. 

He remembered Jonathan talking to his little brother’s lifeless body, in the Byer’s old home, his voice was full of guilt and despair. He left the room, but he can remember small, pale Will. Dark circles under his eyes. His shallow breath. He looked so fragile, like he would break if you hugged him too tight. He felt Jonathan’s pain and guilt and also the fierce burst of energy he got swearing to protect them.

Steve used to wish he had a little brother. He imagined it would make the world feel less alone. 

Since it was time for summer break, everyone figured Nancy was due to arrive in town, at least they talked about it on the phone a couple of weeks back.  He didn't know if Jonathan was with her. 

Steve admired her sharp mind, quick wit, her loyalty to Barb and her curiosity towards the world around her. Always eager to get to the bottom of things. Jonathan was a better match, when he was very honest to himself. 

What would his family give, for him to be half as ambitious as Nancy Wheeler.. Steve jumping from job to job that didn't have any real career opportunities was a thorn in his family's eyes, especially his fathers, his son refusing to step into his footsteps was the final nail in his coffin, he said on several occasions. 

Nobody would blame neither Nancy nor Jonathan for not visiting town. 

After the earthquake. the south half of the town was decimated. Many people left, never to come back. With them, business left. Chances left. Young people left. Hawkins was a ghost town, for the most part. 

His parents left, more definitely than before. Steve, on the other hand, wanted to stay. 

Not a lot of people came back after the evacuation. 

He felt rebellious and stupid, trying to 'be his own man' and by doing so creating even more distance between him and his family, than there was before ‘the event’.

His family’s love was always conditional. Some of those conditions, he simply couldn't try to fulfill anymore. 

His childhood was over, his teenage years were over.  So were the times he had enough energy to uphold an image of what other people wanted him to be. 

His transition into adulthood was more abrupt and more brutal, than the average Joe’s, understandably. 

If he would talk about it, which he didn’t, he’d probably say, his youth was over the moment he watched Billy die. The way life just oozed out of him while seeing Max without the spark at all gave him a perspective he never wished on anyone. 

There was no time to contemplate his past or his future. Most of the time, there was just surviving in the moment, whether it be physical or psychological. No room for soft emotions, for grief, for nostalgia, for hope. Keep trying to go on. Keep everyone else to go on.