#steve harrington sad

[satelliteddie]

boyfriends - s.h.

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: after steve turns to alcohol to help soothe his memories from the last couple of years, you try to get him to open up about his past.

content warnings: angst, alcohol consumption, couple in turmoil, arguments, language

word count: 3.2k

author’s notes: hello this features best friend!eddie, emphasis on best friend, anyways only one more left in the series!!! :’)

Boyfriends

They think you're so easy

They take you for granted

They don't know they're just misunderstanding you

You, you're back at it again

Steve Harrington was the most caring, kind, selfless boyfriend you could have asked for. He held your hand while he drove, his thumb stroking over the back of your knuckles. He rented new movies from Family Video before anyone could spoil them for you. He always wore that one cologne you told him you loved one time. His lips somehow constantly found your forehead or temple when he hugged you. Steve was perfect until one empty beer became two, three, and four. At first you didn’t know he was drinking, but slowly he became more distant and abrasive about everything. Simple questions turned to arguments, touches became flinches, walks around the block merged with walks to the bar, and nothing seemed to be right anymore. All his bottled up emotions and trauma from his past seemed to spill out of him as soon as he emptied a bottle. These repressed memories couldn’t break him, he wouldn’t allow it, so instead he got angry. Angry at the world, his past, his friends, his family, and you. You never meant to make him angry – he knew that – but when you asked the questions he couldn’t answer, he snapped.

“God, you’re ridiculous,” Steve spits, his words laced with venom. “Talking about this shit isn’t going to help.”

“How do you know that, Steve? You just drink all the time until you accidentally talk about it—and even then you shut down. You can’t keep it inside anymore…it’s killing you.”

“Well I’m still here,” he laughs sarcastically. “If it was supposed to kill me, it would have by now.”

“Steve,” you plead. You sit at the kitchen counter, tracing shapes in the condensation on your water glass. Steve stares daggers at you from across the room, standing next to the fridge. Another beer bottle hangs from his hands, he angrily sips from it every time you speak. He had come home again with bruises and bandages covering his skin, your worried looks immediately caused him to open a beer. Logically, Steve knew you cared for him deeply which is why you worried, but instead he took it entirely wrong. Seeing the way your doe-eyes looked over him, he wanted to shake the worry from you and tell you he’s always been on his own and he didn’t need your sympathy. You flick your eyes up again him again, “please just-”

“Just what? God, you live in this fucking daydream and it’s not realistic!” Steve tosses his now empty beer bottle into the sink. The glass clatters against the metal as he turns back to face you, “I can’t be a perfect boyfriend all the time for you, that’s what’s killing me.”

“Steve, I’m not asking you to be perfect,” you feel your pulse rising with each word you speak. “I just want you to talk to me.”

Steve mutters your name as he wipes his hands down his face, “I can’t do this,” he grabs another beer from the fridge and pops the cap off. “We’re just not realistic anymore. We don't work,” Steve shrugs as if his words didn’t just halt your world.

“You don’t mean that, Steve. You’re drunk,” you reply as you feel tears building up. You refuse to look at him now, your glass in front of you suddenly becoming more interesting.

“I’m not even tipsy. Hell, I’m practically sober,” Steve turns away from the kitchen and takes the stairs two at a time up to his room. You hear his bedroom door shut from above you, your body slumps forward onto the counter as silent tears stream down your cheeks.

Weakened

When you get deep in

He starts secretly drinking

It gets hard to know what he's thinking

You love a fool who knows just how to get under your skin

You, you, you still open the door

You left Steve’s house in a blur, your only focus was to get out of there before he saw you crying. You weren’t worried he would yell, Steve never yells during arguments. He just knows how to make you feel worse with an even tone. You were worried he would crumble if he saw you upset; that’s how it always was…he would take back his words and pull you back in. He knows just how to get under your skin, and maybe you wanted him to. You also knew that if he apologized in the way that was classic Steve, you would forgive him. He was hurting, physically and mentally, he needed help — but you didn’t deserve to take the brunt of it. You raise a weak fist to the front door and knock; you hear shuffling inside before the door swings open. You wipe under your eyes with the sleeve of your sweater, looking up with blurry vision.

“What the fuck did he do?” Eddie sternly asks, pulling you to his chest. He shuts the door to the trailer taking you inside with him. “Hey,” he encourages you to look at him. “What happened?”

You fall apart as you start to tell Eddie about Steve; if there’s anyone who can understand what it’s like to come back from the Upside Down with scars, it’s Eddie. You sit cross legged on Eddie’s bed as he paces while you talk. He nods along as you explain how Steve is so lost in his own mind that you can’t find the real him anymore.

“Eddie,” you sniffle, wiping away your tears. “I don’t know what to do. I love him, but when he drinks he loses sight of things. He just uses it to mask the pain he’s feeling, it’s not healthy.”

Eddie gives a somber smile, “if there’s someone who knows a thing or two about using alcohol to cope, it’s me.” He laughs lightly, “listen I don’t know Harrington nearly as well as you do, but that guy loves you. He doesn’t know how to cope with the things he’s gone through, but it has nothing— and I mean, nothing— to do with you. He’s an idiot if he is projecting his anger that way.” Eddie tilts his head to make sure you look at him, “I will sooner believe we landed on the moon than that you are the root of Steve’s issues.”

“Eddie, we did land—”

“That’s not my point,” Eddie rolls his eyes, dropping down to sit next to you on the bed. “He’s a strong dude, but he can only take so much. For me, alcohol was a good distraction until it wasn’t.”

You raise your eyebrows at him, “what do you mean?”

“Alcohol only represses so much. When you sober up it all comes back, even worse. Drinking like that isn’t helping him,” Eddie sighs, placing a gentle hand on your thigh. “Sadly, you’re not going to be able to talk some sense into him until he sobers up.”

You're no closer to him

Now you're halfway home

Only calling you when

Don't wanna be alone

Oh, and you go

Why? You don't know

“I’m not letting you in,” Eddie’s gruff voice startles you awake. After pouring your heart out to Eddie, he refused to let you leave his sight for more than ten minutes. You spent the night at Eddie’s, too tired to go home or back to Steve’s. You had no idea how long you’d be asleep for, but the sun now is starting to rise back into the sky, the rays cutting into Eddie’s room. You groan as you sit up, your eyes swollen and dry from crying. Eddie's trailer is cozy, but small and the boys’ voices carry easily to the bedroom. “Harrington, please go.”

“Just let me talk to her,” Steve asks, his voice wavering. “Eddie please, I know she’s here.”

You stand from the bed and hover in the doorway, slowly stepping into the hallway.

“It doesn’t matter if she’s here or not,” Eddie replies. “You shouldn’t talk to her like that or treat her the way you do. Drinking isn���t an excuse.” You reach the end of the short hall, sticking to the wall to stay out of view of both Eddie and Steve. Steve is waiting on Eddie’s steps, one hand holding open the front door as Eddie is actively trying to shut it. Your eyes dart around, watching Steve run a frustrated hand through his hair as he steps into the doorway.

“Fuck,” he tugs at his roots. “I know. I know. I’m so screwed up, now I’m pushing her away. She doesn’t deserve that, I fucked up, Eddie.” You try to step closer to the wall, but the floor creaks under your feet causing both of them to turn to you. Eddie tries to send you silent signals, but when he fails he finally asks, “what do you want me to do?”

You hesitate, stepping away from the wall and into the small living room. “Just let him in,” you decide with a harsh swallow. Your throat is dry, eyes are puffy, and skin is tired, but you suddenly can’t feel any of it when Steve looks at you. Even though you’re still upset with him, seeing Steve suddenly makes you feel safe. His hazel eyes are kind and blood shot (evidence that he too was crying). Eddie shifts his weight between his legs, trying to figure out where to go next. He settles on pushing the door open wider as Steve slips inside. Eddie nods to you once before shutting the door; he brushes past you, giving your shoulder a tender squeeze as he disappears to his room.

You stand with your back leaning against the small kitchen nook, your arms crossed over your chest as Steve lingers by the closed door. He looks like he’s going to make a break for it at any moment, and you’re not sure you’d stop him if he did.

Steve takes a deep breath in, “Y/N-”

“Did you drink?”

“No,” Steve answers before you even finish your question. “I only had one beer last night, I threw the other one out. I swear," his eyes are cloudy. He’s hesitant as he steps away from the door towards you, “baby.”

You step back, pulling your arms around your chest even tighter. Steve’s eyes flicker around your body, worry gracing all of his features. Steve feels his heart sink to his stomach as you refuse to look at him. Did I fuck up this bad? He wonders, his heart slamming against his chest. “Fuck, fuck,” Steve mutters, the words are barely audible. He rubs a frustrated hand over his cheeks, “I’m so sorry.” You uncross your arms and rest them on the counter next to you. You finally raise your eyes to meet Steve’s, both of you on the verge of tears. Steve reads your body language and steps closer, very slowly.

“I’m so sorry,” he repeats. “I love you. I’m a drunken idiot, I don’t deserve you. You deserve so much more than what I’ve put you through.”

Boyfriends

Are they just pretending?

They don't tell you where it's heading

And you know the game's never ending

You, you lay with him as you stay in the daydream

You feel a fool

You're back at it again

You want to give in and melt into his strong arms. You want to believe him, but is he just pretending? Will he just start drinking again as soon as things get hard? It’s hard to tell where it’s heading; you know Steve, but you only know what he shows you. Who knows what will come up next.

“I’ll- I- I’m sorry,” Steve fumbles over his words. He shifts uncomfortably, scratching the back of his neck, “I’ll just go.”

“Steve,” you whisper. You step away from the counter, rubbing your hands over your arms as you step toward Steve. He lingers by the door, “can you take me home. Please?”

“I- yeah. Yes, yes of course,” he turns away from you to open the door. Eddie lingers in his doorway at the end of the hall, he gives you a quick look and lifts his hand to his ear like a makeshift phone. Call me later, he means. You offer a small smile and nod before you follow Steve out of the trailer. You let Steve open the car door, spilling inside without a word spoken. Steve starts to hum as he starts the car; he leaves the trailer park, tossing an occasional glance over his shoulder to look at you.

“I-” Steve starts, but quickly stops himself. He flexes his fingers around the steering wheel, trying to get the blood back to his knuckles.

“Steve,” you cast a quick look at him, offering a small smile. It's not a full smile, but just enough to extend an olive branch. You want him to talk to you. To explain what the hell is going on inside his head. “You can talk to me,” you choose your words carefully to avoid pushing him.

“I’m so fucking sorry, baby,” he mutters while he keeps his focus on the road. Steve swallows hard as if he forces it down hard enough the words won’t leave his mouth. “I’m such an asshole.”

You tuck your legs under you as you turn in the seat to face him, “yeah. You were an asshole.” You let your fingers slide over the back of the seat and down his bicep. You slip your index finger under the cap of his sleeve, rubbing the soft under part of his arm. His skin is always so warm, soft, and inviting. Goosebumps scatter over his arms as he turns to you with another soft smile. An olive branch.

“But?” Steve jokes, turning down a side street.

“But, you’re not always an asshole. You just act like one sometimes. Especially when you drink.”

“Shit,” he pulls over to the side of the street, parking the car. Steve turns in his seat to face you, he slowly links his fingers with yours that are still tracing his skin. “Shit, I know. I can’t even believe I said those things to you.”

You pull back your hand from his, the spiteful words from yesterday flooding back. It’s only been a day. Of course he’s sorry. Of course he’s going to say everything he should right now. Of course Steve would revert back to his perfect self, but would he stay that way? It just felt like a vicious cycle that started over every time he emptied a bottle. You’re back at it again, slipping right into the same pattern.

“You did say them though,” you look down at your lap, suddenly finding your hands to be the most fascinating thing in the car. Your lip quivers as you hear Steve sigh and shift closer to you. “How do I know you didn’t mean it? Everyone says drunk words are sober thoughts, maybe that’s what those were.”

Steve doesn’t answer for a second and you regret what you’ve said; you want to pull the words back and pretend everything is back to perfect now – but it’s not realistic. That’s what started all of this, Steve claiming you weren’t realistic because you wanted a raw conversation with him about his traumas. He brushed you off saying it would only make things worse.

“Steve,” you say his name like it’s a question. Please don’t hurt me again, you want to say. “How do I know?”

“You don’t,” Steve responds, shifting back to face the steering wheel. He turns the key over in the ignition and heads down the street at a rate that is definitely above the speed limit. You feel the crack in your heart completely splitting your chest open with every passing second. “You don’t know, but I know.” Steve says, his car roaring as he glides through the suburban streets. It’s like he’s racing your internal clock before it's too late – before he’s too late.

You tilt your face back up to look at him, curiosity getting the better of you. You may still have unresolved questions and feelings, but you want to know where he’s going with this. Both literally and metaphorically. The drive passes by in minutes as the silence grows, you want to reach out and grasp his hand and kiss his stressed joints.

“I said those things because I knew it would hurt and you would leave. I’m too much of a coward to let you in because I know if I do, you’ll see the real me.” You don’t answer, so Steve brushes his hair with his fingers and continues.

“I just know when you do, you’ll decide to leave on your own anyway. Shit, I don’t know. It doesn’t make sense, I- I just know how I feel about you.” Steve takes a familiar turn which leads to Steve’s house. Only for a second do you want to protest about going back to your house, not his. That second passes before you even acknowledge it because his house is also where you feel the most at home.

“You’re it for me. I know I’m fucked up,” Steve sighs as he parks the car in his driveway. “You have no reason to trust me right now, but I need you to. Please.”

He hesitates for a moment before reaching across the counsel to run his fingers over your knuckles in your lap. You unfold your hands and let Steve trace shapes in your palm. The tears that had been welling up slip down your cheeks as you watch his gentle movements.

“Steve, I can’t-”

“Don’t cry, baby,” he pushes his luck and reaches for your face, brushing away your tears. “Come inside with me and I’ll tell you everything you want to know.” Steve’s words are confident as he looks at you. He dips his head down to look in your glassy eyes, a stray curl flopping down in front of his forehead. Your vision and mind are still blurry when you finally look back at him. Steve waits with held breath before pressing a kiss to the back of your hand, like you had wanted to do to his hands.

“Everything?” You ask, letting yourself finally feel a sliver of hope.

“Anything you want to know,” Steve promises. He presses another gentle kiss to your hands. “Please just come inside.”

The soft kisses on your hands, his kind words, his perfect brown eyes have you melting into him like snow in the sun. You nod wordlessly causing Steve to hop out of the car and usher you inside before you change your mind. You don’t know if it’s the right thing to do, or if you’ll regret falling into the cycle again. You’re hoping and praying he’s going to open himself up and you won’t feel a fool for believing him…But you love him, so you follow him inside anyway.

✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩

sorry for the angsty ending, but thats how this song is :( thank you to everyone for the love on this series, everyones been so kind!! I'm glad you all love it as much as I do 

next (and last) in the series: “love of my life” - e.m. x reader

✭ masterlist  ✭ requests

[chelseeebe]

the one that got away.

summary: a summer fling with steve harrington comes to a bitter end as the summer draws to a close.

this is actually shite but i’ve wanted to write it for a while</3 think there will definitely be a part 2 tho

you first properly met steve harrington in late june, following your senior year.

yeah you’d seen him around school but you’d tend to stick to your group of friends and him in his. not to mention the infamous ‘king steve’ label that made you sick in your mouth.

you’d gotten a job at scoops ahoy, just a means to save some money before college.

robin, the darling girl who’d started just before you had quickly become a close friend, eating ice cream and people watching the assholes from school.

and then one day steve rocked up in a pair of those little blue shorts.

at first you barely spoke, exchanging pleasantries before quickly going to find robin.

until robin had called in sick one shift, and it was only you and steve in the shop and you just had to talk to him or your shift was going to drag.

‘hey,’ you lifted yourself onto the counter, facing him.

‘hi,’ it comes out almost like a question.

‘you good?’

‘i am, are you?’ his body facing yours now, the shop is quiet, giving you the opportunity to get to know king steve.

‘just peachy, soo.. how do you like scoops?’ you pry, he seemed to just get on with his job albeit using it as the perfect playground to try and get a date.

‘yeah, it’s good.. not that i had much choice..’ he trails off.

your eyebrows furrow, ‘what? you were forced to work here?’

‘no, no.. i just.. i’m not goin’ a college so my dad’s making me get a job, and this was the only place that would hire me,’ he leans back against the parallel counter, shoulders slumped over.

‘oh, how come you’re not going?’ you pry further.

‘just didn’t feel like it, yanno? i was obviously ready for the big world of work..’ his caramel eyes are soft, watching you intently.

‘that’s fair enough, it’s not for everyone.. and this place isn’t so bad,’ you look around at the sailor themed room, the colours were almost too bright.

‘right.. where are you going anyway?’ he crosses his arms over his chest, back still against the counter.

‘nyu! i’ve wanted to go ever since i was little,’ you grin, it’d been a dream of yours for as long as you could remember and the day you’d seen the nyu embossed letter, you just knew.

‘nice nice, what are you studying?’ he smiles meekly, an ever-so-slight solemn look taking over his face.

‘law, i know it’s boring but i’ve wanted to be a lawyer since before i can remember..’ you shrug.

‘well, that’s all that matters,’ he’s still gazing over at you. he’d never noticed the way your eyes crinkled when you smiled before.

and that shift began the friendship between you and steve harrington.

you now included him in yours and robins banter, the pair of you keeping a tally on his failed attempts at flirting.

then one day, steve was pulling the shutters down on the shop as you secured the locks into place when he turns to you, his bottom lip between his teeth.

‘can you stop staring and help me lock this?’ you state, struggling to slide the bolt into place.

‘d’ya wanna catch a movie? it’s not too late..’

you give up on the lock, turning to look at him.

‘no,’ you shake your head, a slight smile creeping onto your face.

his smile falls, ‘oh.. okay..’

‘but, i would love to on saturday, y’know when i’m not tired and in this sailor’s outfit,’ you smirk as his smile reappears.

‘okay.. it’s a date,’ he continues to lock up the shop.

‘that means you’re paying then,’ you scoff, twisting the key and starting the long walk through the empty mall.

you honestly hadn’t expected the cinema date to go so well. he was surely going to be the same dickhead from school.

so when you’re sat in the passenger seat of his maroon bmw, heart doing flips as those chocolate eyes stare into yours, you’d never ever expected him to lean over and kiss you.

you can only kiss back, your hands finding themselves on either of his cheeks.

steve pulls away first, resting his forehead against yours, ‘i didn’t think you were gonna let me do that..’

you giggle, suddenly coy as the brunette is only millimetres away.

‘why not?’

‘i dunno, you’re not like the other girls..’ he exhales, his breath smells like peppermint as it hits your face.

‘ste- did you fucking buy mints for this?’ you can’t help but burst out in laughter, pulling away from his face.

‘no! they were- i-,’ he stumbles over the words, trying to hide his embarrassment. you could hear the tin of mints in his pocket for christ’s sake.

you’re still cracking up, he’d never had a girl point it out before. they usually just appreciated his minty fresh breath.

‘sorry, i’m sorry..’ you stifle your laugh, breathing heavily as you catch his glare.

‘yeah, yeah.. just be grateful that i don’t have popcorn breath, yeah?’ he’s smiling now, those same crinkles underneath your eyes making an appearance.

‘well i love popcorn, so you really missed a trick there,’ you place a hand on his knee, assuring him that it was in fact a joke.

‘jeez, there’s no pleasing you, is there?’

‘you’re in luck, because i also love peppermint,’ you kiss him this time, hands finding the back of his neck, fingers winding into his hair.

that was the first of many, many steamy makeout sessions in his bmw.

you couldn’t get enough of those pink, plump lips. finding any and all opportunity to have your lips on his.

that summer consisted of you, steve and robin messing about at the ice cream shop, stealing ice cream and goofing off with two of the most unexpected people.

on your birthday, steve had planned a whole day for you two. it had started with breakfast at benny’s, at a time that was way earlier than necessary.

and then he surprised you with tickets to this exhibit in town that you’d been begging him to go to. he’d only said it’d be boring so you’d be genuinely surprised today.

and then after you’d dragged him around town, in and out of the shops, laughing and making him wear stupid hats.

‘shall we go and get tattoos?’ you said, hand in his as you walk down the busy street.

‘okay,’ he squeezed your hand as you pulled him towards the tattoo parlour.

you settled on matching ice cream cones on your wrists, only small but it was enough to remind you of this day.

steve is obviously an absolute wuss and sits in the leather chair grimacing, you can only laugh at how big ‘king steve’ reacts to a tiny tattoo.

that night, you and steve climb onto his parents roof with a stolen bottle of wine from their cabinet. they wouldn’t notice, they were never home to drink it anyway.

legs dangling off of the side of the roof, taking it in turns to swig the sour wine.

his hand settles on top of yours, thumb tracing your fingers, ‘one day we’ll have our own house, away from this shithole,’ he states.

‘oh yeah? i want a big house by the way, and i want to be the one to decorate,’ you giggle back.

‘that’s okay with me, you’d be better at it anyway.. as long as it’s with you i don’t mind.’

your cheeks glow red, the man was a sweet talker, he knew exactly what to say to get you grinning.

although, the niggling thought of college loomed in the back of your mind. your house was filling up with boxes and suitcases, ready for the long trip on just a couple weeks.

steve wasn’t your boyfriend officially, but essentially you were together.

but you weren’t sure how this faired for college, how this was going to work with you hours away in a brand new city. he’d said he would come and visit regularly but realistically who was making that drive even semi-regularly?

you push the thought out of your head, there was no point in ruining what little time you had left together.

and rather quickly, the day rolls around. your car full to the brim with boxes of clothes and random panic-buys your mom assured you were necessary.

but you were missing the one thing you really wanted to take.

‘i’ll come and see you soon, like so soon you won’t even have time to miss me,’ he embraces you, staring down at you in an attempt to remember every detail of your face.

‘i know, i’ll call you tonight, as soon as i’m settled..’ you didn’t want to let go, grip becoming tighter around his waist.

he forces your chin upwards, planting a soft kiss to your pouting lips. savouring every last part of you before you climb into your car, tears sliding down your cheeks as he stands to wave you off with your parents.

it almost kills you to tell him that you’re actually settling well. there was a small, selfish part of him that was begging you to say you hated and were going to come home.

‘it’s great here, you need to come visit me soon so i can show you around!’ you babble down the phone, desperate to include him in your new life.

he’d originally promised to make the drive up pretty soon after you’d moved but life gets in the way and it never came to fruition. his dad was forcing him to get a proper job now that summer was over and that meant a 9-5 dressed in his best suit with no time for trips to new york.

‘i’m going to! i just gotta get settled in to this new job and then i’ll be there,’ he stated, his voice tired from his new professional position.

the phone calls eventually became far and few between, you were busy, he was busy there was no time for you to sit and talk for hours like you used to.

some days he just wouldn’t even answer.

and then on a rainy day in november you dial his number and swallow.

‘hello?’ he questions, he sounds gruff as if he’s just woken up.

‘hey.. it’s me..’

‘oh, shit.. hey.. look i’m sorry for not ca-,’

you cut him off, ‘steve don’t,’ you sigh, the words catch in your throat, ‘i think we need to stop whatever this is.. it was fun for summer but it’s obviously not going to work while i’m here and you’re there..’

you trail off, you hadn’t said it out loud before and it had stung.

‘yeah.. i guess so,’ he gulps, he’d wanted to reach out, apologise for being so ignorant and distant. but every time he’d convince himself to pick up the phone, he’d think about how you were probably busy with your new life, how you’d probably even met someone else who had the time to give you attention.

‘so.. i’ll uh- i’ll see you around sometime i suppose,’ you sigh, the entire high of summer coming to an end through a phone call in your college cafeteria.

‘yeah.. yeah, good luck with college n’all..’ he sniffs.

‘thanks steve, you too..’ and with that you put the phone down. any further conversation would only make you upset.

you glance down at the tiny ice cream cone on your wrist as a tear escapes your eye. it now served as a memory for the best summer of your life. a memory of that time you loved steve harrington.

a reminder of what could have been.

[kennahjune]

ALRIGHT BUT

I’ve been having flustered Steve thoughts.

The Party has NEVER seen Steve flustered. Steve’s always the one flirting and no one ever flirts back anymore so Steve’s never actually flustered.

But then Eddie Munson comes slithering along and he flirts with everyone just cause he can but nobody’s flustered by his attempts because he’s not trying to actually fluster them.

But for some reason he really flusters Steve.

Eddie uses this to his advantage and actually puts forth effort when he flirts with Steve.

Steve is flustered, bashful, embarrassed. He’s twirling his hair and giggling and he does this thing where he taps his fingernails on his front teeth when he gets distracted.

The Party was NEVER seen Steve like this.

Not even Nancy when they were dating.

Steve has described what he was like when he was flustered to them, calling himself stupid and saying he acted like an idiot to try and get them to just lay off.

All anyone sees is an absolute sweetheart.

Steve blushes really bright, starting with his ears and it just travels down from there. And also he’s really bad at hiding his smiles and he smiles so BIG when Eddie flirts with him. Like you can see every tooth and his eyes crinkle so much they basically close and his nose scrunches up.

And Eddie fucking THRIVES in it.

Because NO ONE else gets Steve like that.

Eddie’s witnessed Steve flirting with the girls of Hawkins. Has seen them all flirt back with varying degrees of bluntness.

None of them have gotten Steve nearly half as flustered as Eddie has.

UNTIL.

Eddie has Steve come over to the trailer to hang out. Steve by some turn of events ends up cooking and making grilled cheese and tomato soup.

Wayne comes home right as Steve is playing everything and Steve is DISTRAUGHT. Like “no Wayne it’s alright, really. I can make you some to it’s ok I like cooking you’re really doing me a favor.”

So Steve makes Wayne a grilled cheese to and refuses to let Eddie eat until they can eat together.

So they’re all sitting and then they start eating. And obviously it was a damn good grilled cheese— Eddie knew Steve could cook but good GOD.

And then Wayne puts his grilled cheese down, looks between Steve and Eddie, and tells Eddie “If you don’t marry ‘im I’m adoptin ‘im.”

And Steve BEAMS.

It’s that same smile he gets when Eddie flirts with him and Eddie is only somewhat livid.

Cause he totally gets the rush of having Wayne compliment you for the first time. He’s just such an honest man.

And it goes from there that the only people who can fluster Steve are Eddie and Wayne (Eddie romantically and Wayne platonic-fatherly).

They both go out of their way to compliment him constantly just to see him smile like that :)))

Aaahhhhh this makes me so happy!!!!

[hairmetal666]

Wayne's used to worrying about Eddie. He should be; he's been doing it since the kid was twelve. First it was Eddie's silence, his permanent frown, the way the bones stood out too prominent on his small wrists. Then it was the kids at school, taunting him and calling him names, the fights and calls from the principal's office. Next came the late nights, the drinking, the dealing, failing his senior year twice. But all of those times, every single one, Wayne had known what to do. Maybe it wasn't perfect, maybe it took a little time, but he'd always figured out exactly what his boy needed.

And now--now Wayne doesn't know if he can help; knows it's not in his power to fix it. 

So, he sits for the second week in a row, watching his nephew--his whole heart--sitting in front of the window, looking out at the forest, nursing the same cup of coffee that he poured six hours ago, and wonders how in the world he can help.

They're cleaning up from dinner, Eddie quiet at his side, when he says, "Gonna need some help with the mugs tomorrow."

After moving to Oregon once Eddie graduated and he retired, he found an affinity for pottery. Never woulda thought it, but he loves it and tourists love his booth at the farmers market.

He can't think of a better way to get his nephew out of the house, but wonders if he doesn't know his boy as well as he thinks after a decade in Los Angeles, that Eddie'll refuse. He just nods, though, goes back to drying the plate in his hands.

And next morning, right at 6:45, Eddie is in the living room in black jeans that are so worn they're nearly grey in places, and the threadbare Metallica tee Wayne thrifted for him nearly a decade back. It's a win. Small, yes--Eddie doesn't even complain once about the country-western station Wayne plays in the truck--but still a step forward.

Wayne wastes no time parking and handing Eddie a box of carefully packed merchandise. He leads the way, trusts that Eddie is right on his heels until he hears Jim Hopper's voice say, "You better keep an eye on those mugs, son. Your uncle will tan your hide."

He turns to see Hopper balancing one end of Eddie's box, Eddie's cheeks flushed pink. "Sorry, I--uh, I've got it now." Hopper lets go and for the briefest instant Eddie's eyes dart to the side and the pink in his cheeks grows deeper.

Wayne tracks the path Eddie's eyes took and finds--he swallows back a chuckle--Steve Harrington just setting one of his Adirondack chairs into place, his t-shirt lifted to show of a stretch of stomach.

Well. Eddie did always like the pretty ones.

They setup the booth in companionable silence, and Hopper pops back over for a proper introduction. Before he departs again, he says to Eddie, "I got some kids who really love that dnd game and your show. They're going to be crazy to meet you. That okay?"

And Eddie, he's a good boy, he smiles and nods but as soon as Hopper is out of earshot, Wayne's saying, "Hop's kids and their friends are big fans and I know you're heartsore about the cancellation, but you better be polite."

Eddie glares. "What do you think, old man, that I'll be mean to children?"

"Well, with how you've been moping around the cabin these last few weeks, hard to know."

He scoffs. "Yeah, well. Netflix putting your hit show on indefinite hiatus without warning or explanation will do that to a guy."

Wayne knows there's nothing he can say to soften this hurt, so he gives Eddie's shoulder a tight squeeze. "I'm proud of you no matter what, son."

His nephew nods, eyes down, but Wayne doesn't miss the small, pleased, lift at the corner of his lips.

The morning passes smoothly and Wayne pretends he doesn't notice every time he finds Eddie's gaze straying to Steve's booth.

The kids come by around noon, Dustin Henderson breaking away from the pack to shriek, "You're Eddie Munson!"

Eddie smiles, stands. "That I am, young adventurer." He bows low, exaggerated and the kids giggle. "Pray tell, what are your names?"

The chatter is fast and easy, Eddie the happiest he's been in weeks, and Wayne relaxes back in his chair, lets out a long, slow breath of relief at the breaking storm. He stretches back in his chair, eyes catching on Steve Harrington across the way. Steve who is watching Eddie and the kids with an expression Wayne can only think of as fond.

Wayne isn't one to play matchmaker, but--he thinks, just maybe, just this once he could nudge.

It happens late in the afternoon, when business has well-slowed, Eddie asking, "Um--that guy over there, who is--what's his deal?"

Wayne thinks he manages to keep all traces of amusement from his face and voice as he answers, "Who? Ohh, Steve Harrington. He's the guidance counselor down at the middle school. Does a bit of carpentry in his free time. Best friends with the woman who owns that little bookstore."

He watches as Eddie processes, as his eyes widen, probably in remembrance of the pride flags and Protect Trans Kids shirts, how the woman in question wore a lesbian flag pin on her apron. "Guidance counselor?" He says eventually. "Kind of a drag."

"You would think, but the kids love him. The ones you met earlier today? He babysat them for years; imprinted on him, Jim and I say."

"Hmm," is the only response he gets, Eddie's attention back on the man in question.

---

The day after the market, Wayne walks into the living room to find Eddie's laptop tucked into the cushions of the window seat. He hasn't seen the thing since Eddie came home, never used to see him without it, and this--well.

He says, "need to run into town for a few things. You up for a trip? You might could stop at that bookstore."

Eddie nods, takes a sip of his coffee--he's actually drinking it-- says, "Yeah. Yeah, I think that'd be cool."

The store isn't busy when they arrive, and Wayne drifts towards the magazines to leave Eddie to his own devices.

Wayne loses himself to quiet browsing, wanting to give Eddie space, to maybe chat with Robin Buckley, strike up the beginnings of a friendship. Enough time passes, though, that Wayne is wondering where his boisterous, noticeable nephew could've disappeared to so silently.

He winds around a shelf and sees Eddie and Steve Harrington in deep conversation. He can't hear it, not really, but they're standing close, with pink in their cheeks. As he watches, Steve says something that makes Eddie laugh and pull a few strands of hair over his mouth.

They're almost inseparable after that. Eddie, Steve, Robin, and all those kids. They play dnd, have movie nights, spend hours at the diner. And Eddie, he's writing, sketching, gets down Wayne's acoustic guitar and plays around for a while.

When he asks how things are with "that Harrington boy," Eddie flushes red and says, "none of your business, old man" before giving Wayne a quick, affectionate squeeze. 

---

Two and a half months after Eddie came to stay, Wayne's walking back from the river, the sky the light navy of new dusk. His fishing rod is draped over one shoulder, tackle box held easily in his fist, the walk home pleasant, a perfect end to a good day.

The light from the front porch seeps through the trees, and he's thinking about a cold beer, a warm pizza, if Eddie's found his way home yet, when figures standing on the porch stop him in his tracks.

It takes a second, longer, for his eyes to adjust from the dark of the woods, and the glow of the bulb, but then he sees--

Eddie and Steve locked in a fierce embrace, desperate and very much private.

He turns right back towards the river, doesn't mind giving the boys some time.

He waits a good half hour, just enjoying the forest, before heading back. Steve's car is gone, the porch vacant, but the cabin is lit up, bright and warm and inviting.

Wayne steps inside, and his nephew is there, laptop open, but he isn't working, just smiling to himself, chin resting on his fist.

"Okay?" Wayne asks.

"Huh? Oh, yeah." Eddie's smile doesn't fall from his face.

He doesn't want to interfere, ask too much, not when he's sure things are still young. Instead, he asks, "What'd you say to ordering a pizza?"

And Eddie, heedless of Wayne's question, says,"you know. I've been thinking about maybe staying here for a little longer."

And Wayne, his smile grows, and he claps a hand on his nephew's shoulder. "You're welcome here for as long as you want. Already consider it your home anyway."

[matchingbatbites]

Steve "6 kids and a Winnebago" Harrington vs. Eddie "One child is MORE than enough" Munson, who eventually split the difference and agree on 3.

Until Eddie walks in on Steve crying because their youngest has already outgrown her newborn clothes and he didn't know the last time he put her in a cute little outfit that it would actually be the last time.

Not just the last time that she would wear the outfit but the last time they would even need newborn clothes at all, and he wasn't even thinking about that so he missed it, and "She's already so big Eddie, what am I supposed to do?"

It's then that Eddie resigns himself to the fact that they're probably going to have another baby, because he would do anything to keep Steve happy.

[unsteddie]

Steve and Eddie are on again off again for years after the events of st4. It's never too serious, they have basically opposite schedules. Eddie tends bar and plays with his band, existing mostly at night. Steve gets a degree and moves onto being a school counselor, late nights are the bane of his existence. It's easier when they live together, but over the years they've moved in and out of the little place they share with Robin.

Eddie's moved cities a few times, tried living with the band, has been on and off tour. Steve moved back home when his parents divorced for about a year to help his mom out, moved in and usually quickly out with partners. He volunteered a few summers to live in low income rural areas and help with the schools summer programs.

They just never quite get the timing right to try anything other than casual. It's honestly tearing Steve apart, it's been the source of every break up he's had since meeting the man. Eddie however seems entirely unbothered.

Steve knows for a fact he's Eddie's favorite person. Even when Eddie is "seeing" someone else, Eddie's relationships are never serious, he still prefers to spend his time with Steve. He just doesn't get why Eddie doesn't want something real, but he doesn't push, doesn't wanna lose what he has

It's a full decade of this nonsense before the song Quit Playing Games With My Heart by The Backstreet Boys comes out. Steve doesn't really care much about the band, he likes boy band music well enough. It's fun and catchy and danceable. But he's picking Eddie up from the airport, back from a three month stint in LA recording and promoting with the band. And the air is tense as the lyrics spill out of the radio, and it makes Steve feel heavy.

The song ends but he's still pretty misty, it's only ten minutes back to the apartment. He can hold it back, and when they're home he'll just excuse himself and cry quietly on his bed. He's done it plenty of times before, this is no different, he's got this, he's good.

"Stevie?" Eddie asks softly, and his his voice sounds strained, like something's got him worked up too.

Steve can't respond, not with his voice, so he just sort of nods, doesn't look at Eddie, but can feel the weight of Eddie's stare.

"What is it about me that you don't wanna stick around for?" He asks quietly, but there's a solid quality to his tone, like this is a question he's resolved to ask many times, and finally got his nerve up.

Steve doesn't respond for a long time, as pieces slowly move into place. Eddie has always seemed so unaffected, even congratulating Steve when things got serious with someone else. But if he looked closely at Eddie's reactions now, in retrospect, with the way he asked his quiet question, it clicks.

Eddie never liked any of Steve's partners, always gave Steve an out of he needed it, was always a little petty about Steve's ex's after a breakup. The thought that maybe, for all these years, a decade now, they'd been wasting their time keep things casual was just...well it was fucking hilarious. Terrible and heartbreaking, sure. But it kick started ridiculous sounding giggles.

Giggles quickly snowballed into full hysterical laughter. He glanced at Eddie who looked hurt, which was absurd. Steve's laughter became unhinged, and he had to pull off the road. Eddie didn't look hurt anymore when he looked back, he looked furious, and he was wiping his cheeks. Steve hadn't seen tears, but the idea that Eddie was crying over him did nothing to quell the laughter.

The moment the car stopped Eddie threw the door open, and climbed out. Grabbing his duffle from the back seat. He managed to stomp a good distance away before Steve could get himself together enough to chase after him. He was still giggling when he caught up enough to grab the strap of Eddie's bag. He pulled it back hard enough to knock Eddie off balance, and had to reach out to steady him.

"Eddie please," he paused to laugh and catch his breath as Eddie struggled to pull out of his grip. "Please, baby, give me a minute."

Eddie froze at that. They didn't use pet names like that. Nothing so relationship-y. It was enough to make Eddie wait for him. Steve didn't let go though, terrified Eddie might run off without a proper explanation.

He didn't know how to explain it, the years of longing, the way he'd wanted to ask the same question so many times, how he ached for him. He certainly didn't know how to explain his reaction.

"I don't know why it made me laugh like that." He started once he had his breathing under control. "Some stupid pop song-" and he was laughing again because this was stupid. He threw his hands up in frustration, immediately grabbing onto Eddie again when his hands came back down.

"some stupid pop song had me on the brink of tears, because my stupid, broken heart-" more laughter, and Steve was getting really tired of this. "Aches for you, when you've, I guess-" laughter, "been feeling the same way. God Eddie how stupid are we?"

And with that the giggles were gone, his insides had gone suddenly still, and he felt the loss of the time they could have had.

"how long?" Eddie asked, quiet again, he was never this quite. When Steve looked at him now his face was hard to read, tears still brimming in his eyes, but the anger and hurt were gone.

"since the boat house probably, at least since the hospital, for sure. When you woke up and you were cuffed to the bed. The first thing you said was some joke about being flattered they thought you were that dangerous. I knew for sure then, but I think it started in the boat house." Steve flushed, his face hot and pink.

"God, no, that's ..we can't have been feeling the same way so long. Stevie, what have we been doing?" Tears were falling, both men crying on the side of the road, and Eddie was holding onto Steve now too.

"Didn't think you'd want me for real. Didn't think anyone-" Steve coughed around the lump in his throat. "Tried to move on, so many times. Never could, it always came back to you."

And Eddie was suddenly in his arms, weeping, getting tight words out between sobs. "Never. Anything. Compare. No one. Even close. Just you. My Stevie."

"Didn't catch all that sweetheart. You'll have to tell me the rest later." Steve whispered into his ear, and Eddie melted in his arms, nodding emphatically into Steve's shoulder.

The time they waisted sat heavy on Steve's shoulders, but he had Eddie now. Eventually they would joke about it, about pining after each other for a decade before getting thier shit together, but it was gonna hurt for a while still.

[bigfootsboytoy]

Steve ends up heartbroken, lonely and depressed after season 2. Nancy called him bullshit, even after he ditched all his old friends for her. Billy Hargrove took his spot at the top of the food chain. He can have it, Steve doesn't really want it anymore. But Steve does want to find some sort of connection. Someone to have in his life who isn't an 11 year old kid he barely knows. He tries to go on a date one night, take a nice-seeming girl to a party. He wants to find connection, to kill the loneliness that's been building for months, but just as he's feeling kind of good about things, his date ditches him.

So. He decides to drink his feelings. He gets majorly fucked up, and ends up laying on the ground in the backyard, contemplating how much life seems to hate him.

Only to literally get tripped over by Eddie Munson, who was at this party selling pot and is very confused as to why Steve Harrington is alone on the ground with a bottle of vodka clenched in one hand.

Eddie ends up chatting a little with Steve, nothing substantial, but enough to know that Steve is very very drunk, and also very very sad.

He asks if Steve wants to go back to the party, and Steve staunchly refuses. He doesn't want to be around a bunch of annoyingly happy people.

He asks if Steve needs a ride home, and Steve just kind of shrugs. His parents just left for another trip, so home is kind of depressing right now too. But he doesn't exactly have any other friends he can stay with so. Home it'll have to be.

Only Eddie can *tell* he doesn't really want to go home, though he has no idea why Steve wouldn't want to return to his veritable mansion after a shitty night. The reason doesn't matter much. He offers to let Steve crash at his place. Steve can take the couch, or hell he can stay in Eddie's room if he doesn't mind sharing, that way he wouldn't risk being woken up when Wayne comes home that morning.

And well, Steve agrees. Can't think of any reason not too. Munson has been nice so far, he's got a good easy-going energy that Steve likes. Why not stay the night.

By the time they get to Eddie's, Steve is *slightly* more sober. Not much, but he's slurring his words a little less, and he can walk with only a little help.

Eddie grabs them each a little plate of leftovers, because he has no idea if Steve's eaten at all. It's quiet while they eat, Eddie doesn't push Steve to talk, and Steve isn't sure what to say. Eventually Eddie sets the plates aside and give Steve an easy grin.

"So, do you want the couch, or are you crashing with me?"

Steve thinks about it for a while. He hasn't shared a bed with a guy-friend since he was a kid, and he's heard rumors about Eddie, whispers in the hall about the way he looks at other guys. But...Steve can't really bring himself to care. He's tired, and he really doesn't want to be alone.

"I don't mind sharing."

Eddie sets them both up in his room, letting Steve choose which side of the bed he wants, and they both settle in. There's a respectable distance between the two of them, and Eddie says a quick goodnight to Steve, figures they won't talk and just go right to bed.

Except Steve isn't sober, and he really isn't in a good headspace, so he can't stop himself from blurting things out into the quiet of the dark room.

"Are you really gay?"

Eddie stiffens next to him, he can feel it, he can hear the way that the other boys breath cuts off and he seems to stop breathing all-together.

"It's okay if you are, I'm not going to be an asshole about it, I'm trying not to be that guy anymore. I guess I was just curious."

It's quiet for another beat before Eddie seems to loosen just a little. He starts breathing again at least.

"Yeah I uh- I am. Gay. And if that's weird the couch is still open, I can-"

"It's not weird."

"Okay."

Steve let's himself mull over this confirmation, and then his mouth starts moving again, without his permission.

"Is it lonely? Cause I mean, it's got to be hard to date in Hawkins. People here are shitty. Unless you've got like, a secret boyfriend or something."

"No...no secret boyfriend. It does get a little lonely sometimes. I'm lucky though, I've got my uncle, and my friends are pretty great. That's enough most days."

"What do you do when it's not enough?"

"Hmmm?"

"When your uncle and friends aren't enough, what do you do? To try and...make it better?"

Eddie is quiet again for a long stretch before he shrugs.

"I try to focus on something else. I'll play my guitar or work on a new campaign, read a book. Something to take my mind off it."

"Oh."

Now Steve is the one who seems tense, his jaw is tight and he's got his arms wrapped around himself. His next words come out as a whisper, but Eddie manages to catch them.

"I don't know how to do any of that."

He sounds almost choked, and Eddie is caught off guard. He's never seen Steve Harrington as anything other than solid, as happy. He's the king, after all. He's supposed to be all smiles and great hair. Only...Eddie's noticed that he hasn't hung out with his old friends lately, that he's eaten alone at lunch too many times to be anything other than strange.

"Steve...are you lonely?"

Eddie expects a denial, for Steve to laugh it off and tell Eddie that he's perfectly fine and fulfilled. Or maybe he expects a shrug, a non-answer. What he doesn't expect is the gut-wrenching sob that seems to tear past the other boys lips.

He doesn't expect to turn and see Steve Harrington's face, a scant foot from his, shining with tears.

He panics a little at the sight.

"Fuck- I'm so sorry-"

"Don't be." Steve tries to wipe his eyes, to hide the tremble in his voice. "Not your fault there's something wrong with me."

"What do you mean?"

"It's like I'm broken man, like nobody can stand to be around me. Tommy and Carol hate me now, Nancy- hell even my own parents hate being at home with me for more than a week. It's like I'm repellent or something. Couldn't even get a date to stick around for a whole night."

And Eddie's pretty sure *he* might start crying now. He'd never have expected this much from Steve, all that sadness to come pouring out. It wouldn't have happened if Steve was completely sober. Without thinking, he reaches out.

Eddie puts a hand on Steve's shoulder and waits to see if the touch gets rejected, but Steve seems to lean into him, so he lets his hand linger.

"This probably won't help, but I don't think you're repellent. And that's coming from somebody who your whole group used to torture. I don't know much about you, but I kind of liked having you around tonight."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Steve gives him a tiny smile. His eyes are still wet with tears, and the smile doesn't come close to reaching them. He seems impossibly small here in Eddie's bed.

"I don't know man. I just wish-"

He cuts himself off, apparently deciding his words are too far, but Eddie urges him to keep talking.

"What do you wish Steve?"

"I just wish that... there was somebody out there I could have a future with. Somebody who actually loved me, you know?"

It might be the saddest thing Eddie's ever heard, and he blames that fact for what he does next.

He takes his hand off Steve's shoulders and instead hauls Steve closer to him, fitting the other boy against his chest and wrapping his arms around him. It's a move that might get him decked, but he doesn't think it will. And he'll be damned if he doesn't hug Steve right that second.

He doesn't get hit. Steve tenses for a second, but it's just that one instant before he's melting into the embrace.

Eddie feels more tears falling against his shirt, and he couldn't care less. He keeps Steve close, let's him cry into his chest, runs a hand through that famous mop of hair.

He isn't sure how long it takes for Steve to calm down, but eventually he does. His breathing evens out, and he shivers a little before speaking.

"Thanks man."

And Eddie takes another leap of faith.

"I could be that person, you know."

"What?"

"I mean. You know Im... not straight. It may not be exactly what you're wanting but. I think I could picture a future with you. If you want to, just for tonight...I could be that someone who loves you."

Steve looks at Eddie, like he's a puzzle that he needs to solve, before a other shiver seems to wrack his body.

"Just for tonight?"

It comes out as a whisper, but Eddie hears it all the same.

"Yeah. For tonight Steve."

"I think...I think I'd like that."

Eddie gives him the sweetest smile he can muster, and nods.

"Alright sweetheart."

Eddie isn't exactly sure what it means, to love Steve for the night. After all, Steve is straight. He figures it doesn't matter much though, it's only for a night.

He keeps a hold on Steve, let's him get comfortable tucked against Eddie, and he does what feels natural. He runs a hand up and down Steve's spine, traces shapes into the soft fabric of his shirt. He tangles their legs together, and in a moment of insane bravery he presses a kiss to the top of Steve's head.

He's met with a sigh, full of relief, and figures he's on the right track.

"Just close your eyes Stevie, I've got you."

"Can you tell me about it?"

"Hmmm?"

"The future. You said you could see one. Can you tell me?"

And he asks so carefully, he sounds almost afraid, Eddie can't say no to that.

"Do you want the fantasy future, or the realistic future?"

"The real one."

"Alright then. Well, if I'm not going to be a rich and famous rockstar...I'll probably graduate and get a job somewhere in town. A real job, maybe working on cars or something. I'm good with cars. You'd come over all the time, have dinners with me and with Wayne. You'd have to meet Wayne. And we'd have more nights like this, sleeping close."

Steve let's out a pleased sounding hum, and shifts his face so it's buried even closer in Eddie's neck. He can feel Steve's breath on him.

"We could save up money and get a little place together, somewhere outside Hawkins. I have to stay kind of close, for my uncle, but maybe Indy?"

Steve nods, mutters something about staying close 'just in case'. He sounds like he might fall asleep, so Eddie keeps going.

"We could get an apartment, nothing too fancy. We would get two rooms, so nobody gets suspicious, but we would share a bed most nights. I'd play with my band on weekends, just for fun, and you'd join some little local sports team. I'd make sure to schedule DND nights so that I never miss a single game, even though I don't understand a damn thing about sports. We would come home for holidays, but most of the time it would just be us. I'd take good care of you, make sure you never go more than a few hours without me telling you I love you. I'll show up wherever you're working just to give you a hug and a kiss, and make sure you don't forget it. And I'll annoy the hell out of, but you won't mind too much, because I'll make you happy too."

Eddie can think of more. He can think about so many things. How he could give Steve one of his rings, even if they couldn't legally get married, even if Steve would never want that. Just as another reminder that he's loved. They could take trips together and go out to parties where Steve will never have to worry about getting ditched. Eddie doesn't do things halfway, and he has a hell of an imagination. He could picture them growing old together, if he tried, if he let himself. But this is just for tonight, so he doesn't. Instead he runs a hand through Steve's hair again, and listens to his quiet breathing. He thinks he may have fallen asleep, but he's wrong.

"That sounds nice."

It comes out muffled, spoken into Eddie's neck, but he manages to make it out, and he let's the vibration of it sink into his skin.

*It's only for tonight.*

He has to remind himself, because Steve is just feeling lonely. He doesn't want that future with Eddie, he just wants to feel loved.

But even if it's just pretend, just to help Steve for a few hours, he's okay with that.

Steve may think he's broken, but Eddie thinks he would be easy to love for a long time. Loving him for one night is nothing. He doesn't even have to try.

Tomorrow Steve will wake up sober, and he'll thank Eddie for letting him stay over, and they won't talk about it. Eddie will drive Steve back to his car in silence, and they'll say their goodbyes. They may not talk ever again, they never had before.

But for tonight? Eddie Munson will love Steve Harrington, and Steve? He'll let himself be loved, let himself beleive it. And he'll love Eddie right back.

Just for one night.

And if Steve ever needs it again? Eddie will love him for another night. And Steve will give that love right back. He's got plenty to spare, after all. And there's far worse people he could share it with.

[morganbritton132]

Eddie, to his Tiktok following: In 1989, i was walking and I accidentally stepped on a butterfly. Steve has never let me forget it.

Eddie: Hey, Stevie. I saw a butterfly today.

Steve: Did you murder it too?

[hungharrington]

spread

hey guys long time no see ! this was purely inspired bcos i think its HOT when guys hold their gfs legs open when they fuck. naturally im thinking of steve <3 enjoy! MDNI this entire blog is 18+ fem!reader

Fire burns beneath your skin.

Pure flames of desire that seem to start in your gut, licking and settling alight every nerve in your body. The fire within you hums and you burn up deliciously in it, trying so hard to stay still and feel everything.

Your breath hits the pillow, its soft feel pressed up against your cheek. Steve's chest drags against your bare back. You can feel the muscles of his chest shift, the drag of his chest hair as his bicep bulges over and over from a repeated motion.

The motion being his hand, buried between your thighs.

"Want you to..." Steve's voice breathes in your ear, that rasp in it that clues you in to how turned on he is. How keyed up he is. His forearm nudges at your thigh, pressing it outwards. "Want you to keep 'em spread for me, baby."

You swallow a gasp as his thumb passes over your clit teasingly. You nod against the pillow and your thighs part further without even thinking about it.

"That's it," Steve coos. This close, you can feel the curl of his smile against your neck. He's practically purring when he says, "That's my girl."

You're spreading yourself for him, your drooling cunt on display for him to play with, and the thought only fuels the dribbling, burning hot feeling in your gut. A whimpery noise pulls from your throat.

Steve kisses the skin of your neck generously, slow languid kisses that make your nipples peak against the sheets. A scrape of teeth. Heat burns between the shared skin.

Long, thick fingers draw circles at your entrance and you can't help how your back arches to push down onto them, a stuttering gasp escaping you. He's been teasing you for too damn long tonight.

"S-Steve."

His name has never sounded so filthy.

"Mm? What is it, baby?"

He's still circling your entrance tantalizingly, his thumb dancing over your clit so perfectly, so teasingly. Asshole. Teasing, stupidly hot, too-good-with-his-fingers asshole.

"Please," Is all you can manage, voice weak.

It's all you need for Steve give in, sinking his finger into your cunt and pulling simultaneous groans from both of you. You can feel the rumble of it against your spine. Your head tips back instinctively, your cunt fluttering in bliss.

Steve doesn't give you a moment to relax into it, another finger joining as he pumps them in. Lewd noises leak out as his fingers setting a punishing pace. They curl expertly, hitting the spot that makes your hole clench around him with every thrust of his fingers.

You clutch the sheets, your leg quivering and threatening to fall. A moan you can't contain pools in your chest and you bury your face in the pillow to muffle it.

Your hand shoots down to hold Steve's forearm — half to make sure he won't stop, half to keep yourself from falling apart too soon.

"God, look at you," Steve murmurs, his voice hot with praise.

All your whimpery noises, pressed into the pillow, going straight to his cock. It thickens in his boxers, straining against the fabric and Steve shivers in anticipation.

You can feel his trail of kisses up your neck but you know he’s watching the way your hips rock down onto his fingers. A fiery desire licks up your spine at the hardness you feel behind you. You feel yourself grow slicker at the feel of it, your mouth almost watering.

Steve's hips rolls up against yours roughly, no doubt eager to gain the same pleasure you were getting. His quiet grunts mix with your whiny breathes, pleasure burning and bubbling hotter and hotter.

Then a filthy moan scrapes out his throat when you clench down around his fingers — which disappear between your legs in a moment.

You barely get a moment to pout, a soft whine sounding, before you hear the fabric of his boxers being pushed down. It's frantic sounding, like he can't wait another second, like he needs to be buried inside you. You need it just as bad. You whine again.

"Sh, sh, sh, sh," Steve soothes, all too aware of your every noise. His needy baby. "I know, I got you."

His hand finds the bend in your knee and he holds it for you, keeping you spread for him. His nose nuzzles along your neck, kissing and suckling as he finally, finally, sinks his cock into you in one slow stroke.

You keen. A pitiful cry escapes your lips, the coil in your tummy twisting tighter at the gravelly moan that Steve makes. His hot breath of your neck, his closeness, the stretch of him inside you — you quiver and whimper, your cunt gushing on his cock.

"Oh f-fuck, honey," There's that whiny hitch in Steve's words now, the way there always is when nears pussy drunk.

You can feel the urge to close your shaky legs with how you cunt throbs in pleasure but Steve's hand is still tucked under your knee, keeping them apart, as he starts to rock into you.

The lewd noises from before return, the wet sound of your slick as Steve ruts into you. His hips move fast, his pace building.

A ragged moan drools from your lips and you push your head back instinctively, searching for more Steve. He's there already, his kisses resuming up your neck feverishly, his thrusts not faltering.

"Ste— Stevie," You gasp needily, letting one of your hands slip over your waist to hold him however you can. Your fingers find his bicep and you clutch it, breathy noises punched out with every roll of his hips. Steve groans loudly.

"God, you feel so fuckin' good around me," He pants, thick cock driving into you steadily enough to make you melt. He drops his hold on your leg for a moment, his hand darting up to your face. He pushes back the hair in your face, his lips kissing the exposed skin as he does.

"My pretty fuckin' girl," He hums, voice wavering in his own pleasure.

Your thighs start to ease close without thinking and Steve snakes his hand down, slapping lightly at your clit with his large hand. It makes you squeal, your legs jumping apart and your hole clenching down on his cock deliciously. Steve moans again, a thread of a whine in it.

"Told you," He huffs breathlessly, lips dragging up the sensitive skin of your neck. He nips at your ear. You whimper. "To keep 'em spread for me. You can- you can do that f'me, can't you?"

It's a trick question because there's no way you can answer anything right now. Steve's thrusts slow for a moment, as if he's giving you a moment's reprieve, only for you to realise it's for a more sinister reason all together.

He shifts forward and lets his hand find its place under your knee again, holding your legs apart, and this time when he fucks back in, your whole body twitches.

You make a pitiful noise, something between a moan and a gasp. And then you make it again and again, as Steve drives his cock into your cunt, hitting the spot every single time.

"Oh, there she is." Steve coos. "Is that it, yeah? That spot feel good, honey?"

It would nearly be embarrassing, the little uh, uh, uh's you keep making, if it didn't feel so fucking good. You thought you were on fire before but now you're molten. Your skin blazes. Pleasure twists the coil in your gut tighter. You clench down on Steve's cock and gush at the whimpery noise he makes.

"I- ngh, shit—" He's panting now, beginning to become undone at the silky feel of you wrapped around him. "I asked -ah- you a question, baby."

You wail softly into the pillow, head curling in. Your head swims in delirious pleasure, the question he asked a minute ago long gone. You whine at his cruelty, your mind utterly distracted by the filthy squelchy noises he's fucking out of you.

"B-Baby can't think right now?" Steve teases, his thrusts turning shallow but faster. He hikes your leg up higher, pulled back towards his hairy thigh. "Getting fucked too good, huh?"

"Uh huh," Your voice comes out all whiny, the words drooling out your mouth. Your cheek brushes the pillow as you reply, eyes screwing up as the tightness in your stomach looms closer, hotter, nearly bursting. You grip his bicep tighter.

"Pleasepleaseplease, don't- don't stop, baby, I'm— I'm," The words rush out of you in a frantic babble. "Please, fuck- I'm, uh,"

A moan warbles out of Steve at your pleading, feeling his balls draw up as his own orgasm creeps up on him. He dutifully listens to his baby, still fucking himself into you with a lustful fervor.

"Gonna cum?" He grunts. You whine.

"I wanna see you cum," Steve rasps, his tummy flexing as he tries to hold back his mounting pleasure. "C'mon, baby, cum all over my cock, yeah? Show me how good it is."

His hand slips from your beneath your knee once more, sliding down to pat at your clit and it's all it takes. You unravel. The heat in your bloodstream gives way to pure euphoria, confetti pumping through your body as you gasp and moan. Your cunt clenches and flutters, throbbing in just the right way.

Steve's hips stutter, the sudden snugness of you pushing him over the edge. It's everything to hear the little inhale he does; the whimper he makes as his cock twitches inside you, dribbling hot ropes of cum.

He keeps moving, milking out every dreg of pleasure for the both of you. Your hand on his arm shifts, moving up, searching for his face and when you tangle your hands in his hair, it's to turn and kiss him. It's sloppy, your lips barely aligned. Still, it hums with love.

The kiss breaks. Slowly, the pleasure and his movements taper off, til Steve's easing himself out of you. A warm buzz sits over the room, satisfaction rolling off the both of you in waves. You feel faint, a sluggish happy feeling settling into your skin.

"Mm, you okay?" Steve's voice sounds from behind you.

You're still snuggled close together, Steve dropping his head into the crook of your neck to nuzzle into it. You huff a happy laugh, reaching a hand up to bury it into his hair like you know he loves.

"More than okay." You sigh happily. Steve's responding hum vibrates against your shoulder. "You just fucked my brains out, baby."

Steve makes a little noise, a half-hearted snort. He kisses the curve of your shoulder again. "Just doin' my job."

[satelliteddie]

you can let it go (matilda) - s.h.

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader (ft. the kids!)

summary: steve struggles to acknowledge his found family when his biological family is so disjointed

content warnings: absent parental figures, suppressed trauma, shitty family lives, found family

word count: 4.7k

author’s notes: okay so hear me out, in this fic everyone is okay and S4 pt. 2 just did not happen the way it did….let them all be alive and healthy, okay???? also: steve finally has the cry of the century…. But he's earned it.

You were riding your bike to the sound of "It's No Big Deal"

And you're trying to lift off the ground on those old two wheels

Nothing about the way that you were treated ever seemed especially alarming 'til now

So you tie up your hair and you smile like it's no big deal

Even if you paid him, Steve would still not be able to tell you who taught him how to ride a bike. He was pretty sure it was his mother… He thinks so. Although it could have been some distant relative at a family party years ago; however, the last time the Harrington’s had one of those Steve was under the age of ten. So remembering who taught him how to ride a bicycle was a long gone memory. As Max glides by on her small skateboard, Steve wonders who taught her how to skate. Did they make her wear a helmet? Did she have someone to hold her up? Did she ever fall so hard the wind got knocked out of her? Max dips into the Harrington’s drained pool and attempts some trick Steve can never remember the name of. He holds his breath the entire time Max is on the board, worried about every turn she takes. Steve shakes his head at the sound of your voice from the back door, “C’mon all of you! Inside! I’m starting the movie with or without you!”

Steve stands from the lounge chair near the edge of the empty pool, his eyes still lingering on Max. She kicks up the end of her skateboard and catches Steve’s eyes, “you okay?” Steve offers Max a small smile and nod which Max in no way believes, but she continues into the house pulling Lucas and Eleven with her. Dustin, Mike and Will are not far behind, arguing over whether or not Eddie would let Will into Hellfire next week (Dustin swears he would, but Mike isn’t convinced….Steve knows Dustin’s right, but keeps that to himself). Steve watches all of them pile into his house with you ruffling their hair as they pass you. You turn your head to him, tilting it as you watch Steve. He still stands next to the lounge chair, just staring off into the house. You step outside and shut the door behind you, quickly you walk across the backyard to meet Steve by the pool. When you approach, his eyes flick back to meet you as he blinks away his thoughts.

“What’s on your mind, baby?” Your hand rubs his forearms that remain at his side.

“I- uh, nothing. Nothing. I’m fine,” Steve shakes his head, his words jumbled in a laugh. “I’m fine.” He brings his arms up to wrap them around your shoulders, pulling you to his chest. Steve rests his chin on the top of your head momentarily before he turns his face down to press a kiss to your hair.

“You don’t have to be fine all the time, Steve.” You mumble into his chest, but Steve doesn’t respond, he only holds you tighter. You inhale his scent, rubbing your hands up and down his back. His muscles release their tension under your touch, and Steve wishes he could stay here forever. “Steve,” you pull your head back to look directly at him. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“It’s no big deal, honest.” He pulls his right hand to place it between you, his pinky lifted in the air. “I promise.”

You shake your head at him, giggles leaving your lips. You loop your hand around to meet your pinky with his. Steve links your fingers together and brings the jointed hands to his mouth. He presses several kisses on the back of your hand, flashing a smile in your direction. It’s not a Steve smile that you’re used to; it’s a forced smile to try to comfort you. It doesn’t reach his eyes, light up his whole face, or even create a dimple in his cheek. It’s just a fake smile to try to get you to stop worrying about him…which worries you even more.

“C’mon,” Steve releases your pinky and brushes your hair behind your ear. “The kids are waiting.”

You can let it go

You can throw a party full of everyone you know

And not invite your family, 'cause they never showed you love

You don't have to be sorry for leaving and growing up

The living room is covered with empty chip bags, crushed soda cans, and extremely sleepy preteens. Dustin, Mike, Will and Lucas have taken the floor, spreading their limbs across two open sleeping bags and countless blankets. Max and El lay on opposite ends of the couch, their legs tossed over each other. Steve watched over them all with kind eyes, his mind racing with more ideas on how to make them comfortable at his house. He leans his head against the recliner, watching as you open one last blanket and lay it over Eleven. The kids slowly fell asleep at different times during the movie, all of them completely exhausted from school and fighting monsters constantly…but here? Here they’re safe, comfortable, and happy. Steve makes sure of it. After setting the blanket down, you carefully step around Dustin on the floor to reach Steve. You lean down and place a kiss on his forehead, “let’s go to bed”. Steve glances around to take another headcount of the little ones. Henderson, Sinclair, Wheeler, Byers, El, and Max. “They’re all here,” you smile down at him. You squat down to meet his eyes, “they’re safe. We’re still going to be here, but you deserve to sleep in your bed. Not in a chair.” Steve reluctantly nods, knowing you’re right and stands up from the recliner quietly. He steps over all of the kids and counts them all once more before following you upstairs.

[Steve], you talk of the pain like it's all alright

But I know that you feel like a piece of you's dead inside

You showed me a power that is strong enough to bring sun to the darkest days

It's none of my business, but it's just been on my mind

Steve leans against the sink as he brushes his teeth, watching you intently through the mirror. You comb your hair with your fingers, humming along to the theme song from the movie you just watched. Standing here, in his shirt, Steve feels his heart swell watching you do the most normal things. He’s so head over heels in love with you that anything and everything you do is the most interesting thing he’s seen all day. You feel his stare and you look up at him through the bathroom mirror. You offer him a small smile, which he returns (the toothbrush still hanging from his mouth). Steve leans down, turning the water back on to rinse his mouth and toss the toothbrush aside. You step forward, wrapping your arms around his waist, pressing your cheek to his bicep. You turn to kiss his arm, looking at him again in the mirror, but he’s already looking down at you. “I love you,” Steve mumbles, his eyes scanning over every feature on your face. You tilt your chin up to him as he leans down to kiss your mouth. Steve sighs in the kiss, relief and love literally pouring out of him. You pull away from his mouth with a smile that consumes your features, “I love you more”. He still only offers you a sweet (but forced) smile. Running a hand down his arm, you link your hand with Steve’s and pull him out of the bathroom and to his bedroom.

The bedside lamp is the only light on in the room, the small light barely illuminating the walls. Steve shuffles around to his side of the bed, pulling his shirt over his head and leaving it somewhere on the carpet. You crawl under the covers on your side just as Steve does the same on his. You open your arms, inviting Steve into them and he wastes no time to press his body to yours. You lay on your back, left arm tucked under Steve’s body as his chest is pressed to yours. Your right hand runs over his shoulder blades and down his back, humming peacefully. Steve is still admiring you as he rests his chin on your ribs, but you can tell his mind isn’t here. You move your hand from his back and trace your fingers over his cheeks to rest your hand on his jaw. “Steve,” you whisper, moving your thumb over his skin. He blinks and averts his attention back to you. “Where’d you just go?”

“Nowhere,” he glances down. “I’m here with you.”

“No you’re not. You’ve been lost all night,” you frown at him. “Did something happen?” You ask, still moving your thumb across his jaw.

“No, no,” his worry comes across in his words. “I just, I was thinking about my parents tonight.”

“Did they call?” You ask and Steve sarcastically laughs at your innocence.

“No baby,” he takes his left hand to smooth out the frown lines between your eyebrows. “They never call.”

“I’m sorry,” you trace his jaw into his hairline, massaging his neck gently.

“It’s not your fault. Hell, if I didn’t have you I don’t know what I’d do,” Steve confesses. “They’re just so,” he groans. “They’re so shitty. I nearly died, several times, last year and they didn’t even notice.” His eyes are glossy, but he shakes his head trying to suppress the tears. Steve moves his face away from yours again, because he’s positive if he looks at you again he’ll break. Steve lays his head down, resting his cheek on your chest; you keep your hands tangled in the hair at the nape of his neck. Releasing a deep sigh, you lean up just enough to kiss Steve’s forehead. He glances up at you through his thick eyelashes, his hazel eyes watery. “Steve, you deserve better than them. I’m so sorry,” you whisper against his skin.

You can let it go

You can throw a party full of everyone you know

And not invite your family, 'cause they never showed you love

You don't have to be sorry for leaving and growing up

Your words hang in the air for just a second before you hear Steve sniffle against your chest. Turning your head you try to look directly at him, but he hides his face even further into you. You feel your shirt slowly getting wetter as if raindrops had splashed onto it. “Steve,” you try to move his face away so you can see him. “Baby?”

“I’m so— fuck. I’m so sorry,” Steve sits up and off of you quickly. Steve clumsily moves himself to lean against the headboard; he wipes his hands over his face trying to hide his tears from you. No matter how hard he tries, he can’t get them to stop falling. “You shouldn’t have to see me like this,” he hiccups in between rubbing his eyes. You pull yourself up and reach out to pull his hands away from his face. The tears still run down his face, his cheeks are flushed and his chest is tense. You swipe your thumbs under his eyes gently, catching any more tears; keeping your hands on his cheeks, you tilt his face up so he looks directly at you. “You don’t have to be sorry. Don’t ever apologize,” you whisper. “I’m here, Steve. Stop trying to hold onto all of it. You can let it go.”

This breaks him. Steve’s head swirls from your words and the floodgates open before he’s even given them permission. A sob wrecks its way out of his chest, Steve bends his neck curling into himself as he cries. You wrap your arms around his arm, resting a soft cheek on his shoulder. Steve has no control of his emotions anymore, he’s lost all awareness of how to stop his tears. He wants to scream and curse at the top of his lungs, not just about his parents… but about everything. His mind is one big mess and it has been for years. Steve worries he’s scaring you, but when he blinks away his tears just for a moment he’s relieved. You’re still curled up next to him, arms linked as you press kisses to his shoulder repeatedly. He hears you murmur: “it’s okay” and “I’ve got you” in between kisses. Steve runs his hands over his face once more before holding onto your head. His fingers smooth out your hair at the crown of your head. You tilt your chin up to him as you climb in front of him. Steve immediately pulls you into his chest, needing nothing more than to hold you. You wrap your arms around his torso as he slides down onto his pillow. Both of your limbs have tangled in one another as you lay on the bed. Silent tears still flow down Steve’s cheeks, splashing onto the sheets. No words are exchanged between the two of you, but it’s all that Steve needs. An occasional sob builds up in his chest every few minutes and you let him release it without judgment. You stroke your hand over his chest pressing kisses to any part of him that you can. Steve pulls in a deep breath and tries to level out his breathing, but fails. You frown as you watch his face crumble again under his emotions. Steve turns away from you, giving you his back trying to hide himself again. He’s beyond embarrassed that he’s fallen apart like this in front of you. Steve doesn’t even cry when he’s alone, but he’s just too exhausted to hold it in anymore. Steve has always had a rough home life with his parents, tonight was just the final straw that broke him. Seeing the kids in his house and caring for them so much makes him wonder how his parents could be so clueless. His parents always treated him as another one of their responsibilities on a check list, never a living breathing son who just wanted their affection. “Steve,” you place a soft hand on his back. Your fingers hold his shoulder as you turn him to face you. Again, you find yourself wiping away his tears as he cries. You run your fingers through his hair and place his head on your chest; Steve grips your shirt desperate to get his sobs to stop coming. “I got you,” you hold him as close to you as you possibly can.

You can see the world, following the seasons

Anywhere you go, you don't need a reason

Cause they never showed you love

You don't have to be sorry for doing it on your own

Steve’s cries have subsided, but he still clings to you like you’re the only thing keeping him here– which Steve is convinced you might be. Steve lifts his head from your shirt, now saturated in his tears, and he nuzzles his face into your neck. “Thank you,” Steve whispers against your skin. You brush your hand over the back of his head. Steve lifts his face again, his eyes flicking down to your lips momentarily before he leans down. His soft mouth melts into yours effortlessly. His skin and lips are sticky from dried tears; his mouth tastes like mint as he sucks your bottom lip. Steve releases it carefully before he places one more kiss on your mouth. He trails his lips over your face which causes you to giggle as his stubble ghosts your skin. Steve cocks his head at you with a raised eyebrow. “It tickles,” you grin, your fingers scratching over his slight facial hair. Steve smiles slightly, kissing the inside of your palm near his cheeks. He sighs and leans down again, “thank you for being here.”

“There’s nowhere I’d rather be,” you tell him. Every fiber of your being means every word.

“Nowhere else?” Steve tilts his head in disbelief. “You wouldn’t rather be in, I don’t know Europe? Australia? California?”

“Are you going to be with me?” You ask, your fingers finding their place in his hair again.

“Of course,” Steve smiles. This time it’s almost a classic Steve smile; the creases in his cheeks appear and his eyes crinkle slightly, but it’s not a full Steve-smile yet.

“Then it doesn’t matter where we are. As long as you’re with me,” you brush a stray curl away from his forehead. “We can see the world.”

“Yeah?” Steve’s eyes scan your features. He needs this to be true.

“Yeah,” you trace shapes onto the skin of his arms. “We could follow the seasons, see them in different places. Soon the kids will be all grown up and they won’t need us. We can go anywhere, we don’t need a reason.”

“I would hate to leave them,” Steve admits. “But I know I don’t have to be sorry for doing it on my own.”

“You won’t be leaving them. You’d be doing what is best for you. You’ve earned that.” Steve nods in agreement as he leans down to kiss you again.

You're just in time, make your tea and your toast

You framed all your posters and dyed your clothes, ooh

You don't have to go, you don't have to go home

Oh, there's a long way to go

I don't believe that time will change your mind

In other words… I know they won't hurt you anymore as long as you can let them go

The sun rises slowly, its rays breaking through Steve’s windows. He groans as the light pours into his room causing him to stir in his sleep. Steve tosses an arm over you, pulling you to his chest again. Even in a deep sleep, you sigh happily as your bodies tangle together. Steve presses a sleepy kiss to your temple while closing his eyes and taking in your scent. You smell like vanilla, honey, and home. Steve can’t help but continue to pepper kisses across your hairline. You turn in his arms to face him as you fully wake up. Rubbing your eyes, you blink up at Steve, “morning handsome.”

Steve groans, his eyes still shut but his lips still tracing your face. “I don’t want to get up,” he mumbles.

You run a gentle finger over his features; his cheeks are soft and imprinted with marks from the sheet, his lips are as perfect as ever, but his eyes are puffy and look like they would burn when opened. You frown as you tilt Steve’s head down to meet yours. You press featherlight kisses to both of his eyelids, Steve’s hands grip your sides even tighter as you kiss them. He blinks slowly as you back away from his face, his hazel eyes squinting in a small smile. “Do we have to leave this bed? Can't we just stay here?” Steve asks before shutting his eyes again and flopping over to lay on top of you. You wrap your arms around him, loving how his weight feels on you. It’s like a security blanket.

“We could, but we have 6 always-hungry teens downstairs right now. I should work on making them breakfast,” you sigh. Steve leans up and brushes your hair from your face.

“You’re too nice to them,” Steve whispers. “They can fend for themselves and make cereal.”

“Oh really?” You raise an eyebrow at him, “who invited them to a movie night and sleepover at their house?? Mm?”

“I don’t remember,” Steve mumbles, a blush covering his cheeks. You playfully roll your eyes at him and slide out from under his weight. Standing from the bed, you grab one of Steve’s sweatshirts from his closet while Steve throws on a tee shirt and sweatpants. Steve presses one last kiss to your head before the two of you leave the room. You’re only a few feet outside of Steve’s room when you hear whisper-yelling from downstairs. “Shh!” Max’s voice carries through the house, “you’re going to wake them before we’re ready.”

“Who cares, they have to get up anyway.” Mike responds.

“Mike,” El warns and you can only imagine the glare she shoots at him. Steve turns to you with curious eyes, his eyebrows furrowed as he listens to their conversation.

“Where does he keep the syrup if it’s not in the cabinet?” Dustin asks, “Jesus Chr- it’s in the fridge? That’s a crime.”

You giggle in agreement with Dustin and Steve narrows his eyes at you. “It’s better that way,” Steve mumbles as he takes your hand. The two of you step downstairs and peer into the kitchen. The long, wooden dining table is covered in all sorts of breakfast materials. Eight plates are placed along the edges of the table with utensils and cups. There’s a stack of toast in the center of the table with an entire stick of butter melting next to it. Steve is convinced the kids toasted a whole loaf of bread, but he doesn’t mind. His eyes scan over the kitchen to find the kids all focused on the task at hand. Max is flipping pancakes on the stove top, with Eleven holding a plate for her to drop them onto. Lucas and Will are focused on how to work the coffee machine; both of their faces scrunched up in confusion as they stare at all of the buttons. Leaving Mike and Dustin to dig through the cabinets for syrups, seasonings, and other dishes. You and Steve stand next to one another as you watch the scene unfold before you; neither of you know what to say or why the kids decided to make breakfast. They’ve never attempted anything like this before on the multiple movie nights they’ve had. Steve’s eyes race all around the room, he tries not to intervene when he thinks Max is too close to the stove. You rub your thumb over his hand and give him a small nod. Steve steps fully into the kitchen causing the titles to creak under his weight. Dustin is the first to notice your entrance, giving you a wide-toothy grin. The girls turn around next, but Max is the first to talk:

“Hey, you’re just in time!” She smiles gently, flipping a pancake in the pan in front of her. “We’re making you breakfast. Make your tea or coffee, whichever you want. Oh! And your toast!”

Steve feels his chest begin to swell again and his eyes are heavy. He’s overwhelmed with this feeling of home and family. He can only imagine what it would be like to have a real family of his own. Will my kids make me breakfast like this? He wonders as he sits at the dining table. Would they do it for Fathers Day? Christmas? Thanksgiving? His brain races as he watches the kids finish each of their tasks before taking seats at the table.

“Go,” Eleven offers a stack of pancakes. “Eat!”

You can let it go

You can throw a party full of everyone you know

You can start a family who will always show you love

You don't have to be sorry for doing it on your own

You can let it go

You can throw a party full of everyone you know

You can start a family who will always show you love

You don't have to be sorry, no

Everyone devours their breakfast as you all sit around the large kitchen table. Dustin and Steve argue over whether or not pancakes or waffles are better, which divides the table. Steve, Eleven, Mike, and Will are team waffles; leaving you, Dustin, Lucas, and Max on team pancakes. Max nudges your shoulder as the boys continue to bicker about breakfast foods. Her eyes scan over Steve who sits next to you at the end of the table. “Is he okay?” She whispers, “I worry about him.”

“Me too,” you reply with a frown. “I think he’s okay now, but we’ll all be here if he isn’t.”

“He’s lucky to have you— I mean we all are lucky to have you,” Max smiles. “I just wanted to help him,” she glances around the table. Empty plates and sticky syrup coat the table top, leftover toast and pancakes still in the center. “My mom always made me breakfast when I wasn’t feeling the best and I thought it might help him. I could tell he just wasn’t right yesterday,” she pushes around a strip of bacon on her plate. “He just kept looking at me like I was going to, I don’t know—”

“Disappear?”

“Yeah,” Max nods. “He’s good. We can’t let this place ruin him. We’re his family now—”

“Henderson, I don’t know what is so hard to understand!” Steve interrupts. “Waffles hold the syrup. That’s the point of the hole-things!”

“Hole-things? Seriously,” Dustin rolls his eyes. “Can you talk some sense into your boyfriend please,” Dustin asks you, waving a flippant hand at Steve. Steve lays a hand on your thigh, rubbing his thumb over your soft skin. He smiles at you quickly before you speak up, “Dustin, I’ve tried. He’s helpless when it comes to his breakfast opinions. First cold syrup—”

“Jesus Christ, I forgot about the syrup!”

-✩-

The dishes pile up in the sink, but Steve doesn’t care. He lets all of the kids toss their plates and forks aside so they can leave for whatever they have planned. You stand close to Steve as he watches each of them leave on bikes (and skateboards). Steve’s arm snakes around your waist, pulling your back to his chest as he rests his chin on your head. You lean into him fully, feeling completely content. Max turns to you and gives you a gentle smile, “Thanks for having us, Steve.”

“Anytime,” Steve calls out to her. “Thanks for breakfast!”

“Anytime,” she says before pushing off on her skateboard to follow the others. You watch as she catches up to the boys on their bikes before the group disappears over the hill. You and Steve still stand on the front steps, Steve presses a kiss to your temple.

“Feeling better?” You ask, trying not to pry. Steve mumbles in your hair and turns you to face him. You reach up and brush a fallen strand of hair from his forehead, and then run your hand down to rest on his jaw. He leans into your palm before kissing your hand. “Much better,” he whispers. Steve glances over your shoulder to where the kids had just disappeared. “I’m glad they were here. Those little shits are the closest thing I have to a real family.”

“They are family, Steve,” you tilt his focus back to you. “As dysfunctional and crazy as they are….they’re a family who will always show you love.” Steve’s eyes scan over your face before he brings his mouth down to yours. The kiss lasts for only a second before Steve breaks away in a full smile. A Steve smile. His eyes are crinkled, a blush keeps onto his cheeks and his perfect lips are pulled into a grin. You smirk back at him, your heart swelling from seeing a real smile from Steve after so long. Steve’s hands find your waist again as he rests his forehead on yours, “thank you.”

You know there’s no need to thank you, but you nod anyway. Steve pulls away from you to look right into your eyes, “so you’re really team pancakes, huh?”

✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩

i love domestic!steve, when is it MY turn! apologies for any errors but I uploaded this from my phone bc I’m on vacation okay byeeee

next in the series: “cinema” - s.h. x reader

✭ masterlist  ✭ requests 

-meg

[chelseeebe]

complex.

wanted to write something sad abt steve n this was what just came out, it’s only short and i wrote it in like an hour but it had to come out.

complex - katie gregson-macleod was heavy inspiration for this.

the breakup hadn’t been the nicest of breakups, in fact it had ended rather suddenly after you’d had enough of sweeping his shit under the rug.

although you’d tried to be steve’s friend after the breakup, it was showing itself to be far too heartbreaking. having to watch him flirt with every moderately attractive woman that give him a modicum of attention was just cruel.

see, the problem with steve was that he was incapable of opening up to you. you’d heard vague stories about government labs and russian spies and you knew that steve was somehow involved, but whenever you’d question him about it, he’d brush you off. say it didn’t matter now.

but it did. it very clearly did. to you, it was obvious that steve needed therapy, or to even just speak to you about what was going on up there. but he wouldn’t, instead he’d block it all out with partying. choosing getting wasted over opening up.

and you were there to pick up the pieces, every, single, time. like the time when he got so hammered, he’d punched his dad in the face and got thrown out of his house. or perhaps the time when he’d had the bright idea to drive to your house after a party, crashing into the ditch just outside of your estate.

you were always there, taking him in, speaking to his insurance, hell, you even calmed his dad down enough to let him move back in.

but, that wasn’t enough. if you were going to be the maid to steve’s problems, you needed to at least know why he was acting like this. even just a hint of an explanation to his behaviour would have helped rationalise everything in your head.

the thing was, it’s not like steve didn’t talk about it. he spoke about it with his friends, the group of children he’d somehow accumulated over the years. and he spoke about it with nancy.

‘babe, you just.. you wouldn’t get it. and nancy, nancy was there, she went through everything i ever did, it’s just easier.. and i wanna protect you, you don’t need to hear about all that shit.’ he’d justify his actions to you.

and it worked, for about six months. but you were sick of it, sick of having to collect him, absolutely belligerent, from some high school party. sick of having to just smile and nod when he’d tell you he was going to see nancy. sick of having to clean up whatever mess he’d made the night before. it was fucking exhausting.

so, the day after one of steve’s worst performances, where he’d got far too wasted and decided to go missing for hours on end. you decided you were done, you couldn’t deal with it anymore.

‘steve.. steve! wake up!’ you nudged him awake, he was sprawled over your couch, his usual sleeping place when he’d come in drunk.

he groans, a hand shooting to cover his eyes, ‘christ, just give me five more minutes, i feel like shit.’

‘no, steve. i’m done. you need to get the fuck off of my couch and go somewhere else. i’m done.’ you stand above him, arms crossed over your midriff.

that had woke him up, ‘what? what do you mean? baby, i’m-i’m sorry, i just drank too much, you know how it is,’ he’s sat up now, running a hand through his messy hair.

‘yeah, well i’m sick of it steve. you need to get out of my house, find someone else to baby you because i’m not anymore.’ you gather his shoes, which he’d kicked off rather aggressively last night, and drop them in front of him.

‘are you serious? you’re breaking up with me?’ he looks up at you.

you refuse to meet his eyes, knowing that all he had to do was bat those eyelids and he could have you wrapped around his little finger once more.

‘yes, steve. that’s what done means. i’m done with you, i’m done with your bullshit and i’m done being the one running around cleaning up your mess.’

that last part wasn’t technically true, as you did now have to clean up the mess he’d made in your living room the night previous.

‘what the fuck? what the fuck?! you’re breaking up with me because i like to go out? you’re pathetic.’ he spits back at you, slipping his shoes on his feet.

suddenly, you’d felt brave enough to meet his gaze, until he stood up and immediately towered over you. it’s not that you were scared of him, but he had the height advantage over you and god knows he could be very intimidating.

choosing to just nod at his choice words, you had nothing left to say to the boy. anything you ever could have said to him was redundant, he didn’t want to hear it so he wouldn’t have.

you handed him his jacket and walked over to open your glossy front door.

this was the point it had actually clicked in his head that this wasn’t just another fight about his drinking habits, this was it.

‘i’m sorry, i didn’t mean that.. give me another chance and i swear i’ll get better, stop going out so much..’ he’d walked over to the door, practically begging you to change your mind.

‘goodbye steve. see you around, maybe.’ and with that you give him a slight push out of the door and shut it behind him with a slam.

you’d heard through your group of mutual friends that steve was now more out of control than ever. and it hurt. your heart twisted with every tale of his antics, knowing that he was now on his own to deal with the mess.

you had tried to salvage some kind of friendship with him, but it was useless. he wasn’t interested in ever being your friend.

through all of this though, steve had somehow found another girl to fall back on. another girl to take advantage of.

at robins birthday party, you’d tried to speak to him again. just a pleasant ‘hello, how are you?’ hoping to at least gauge how he was doing.

you were met with a stale faced glare from his new toy, it was apparent that he’d only told her about the bad parts of your relationship, choosing to skip the countless times you’d saved his ass from drowning.

‘i’m great, thanks.’ he snapped back.

yeah, you look it.

he looked terrible, his eyes were tired, his usually perfectly styled hair messy and overgrown. you debate quipping back but bite your tongue, there was no point in ruining robins birthday over arguing with your ex.

instead you chose to do what you had done for the entirety of yours and his relationship, smiled and ignored it.

he was no longer your problem. you were free, free from his pain, it was now his to try and decipher.

and eventually, you’d get over him. you’d stop loving the absolute mess of a man.

but he wasn’t sure that he’d ever stop loving you. the regret of losing the one person who had genuinely loved and cared for him played too heavy in his mind.

[ikarakie]

steve, flirting: so… would you like to go to dinner with me? maybe we could skip town… go somewhere in indy?

eddie, jokingly: haha careful king steve it sounds like you’re asking me out on a date

steve: well yes!

[steddieas-shegoes]

He’s not sure why he even comes to these parties anymore. He used to sell at the frat houses, made his rounds until he was out of product, made more money than any minimum wage job he could find near campus.

But he hasn’t in a while. Months, at this point.

It’s just that every time he came to one of these idiotic showing of riches and popularity, the most beautiful man he’d ever seen was sitting in the corner of the kitchen watching with a faraway look in his eyes. Sometimes he stood in a group of people in the living room, but never contributed to the conversation. Once, Eddie saw him swinging his feet back and forth in the water of the hot tub on the back patio with three different couples making out inside it, completely zoned out.

Eddie needs to keep an eye on him. Hence, he attends the stupid parties.

And it’s stupid, to go through so much trouble for a guy he doesn’t even know, who probably doesn’t even notice him back. It’s stupid, but Eddie’s never claimed to be very bright.

Which is probably why he walks up to the guy when he’s about two seconds from punching Tommy Hagan, grabs his wrists, and tugs.

“The fuck are you?” He asks Eddie, reasonably confused and angry at being interrupted by a stranger.

Eddie could feel his pulse against his fingers, swore he could feel a spark of electricity flow between them.

“Eddie. Just leave him. Whatever he did isn’t worth it,” he said through clenched teeth.

His fingers tightened around Steve’s wrists as he considered trying to pick him up, throw him over his shoulder, and walk out of this party entirely.

“How the hell do you know?” Steve wasn’t trying to pull away.

Eddie didn’t let himself think about that too much.

“I just know nothing Hagan does is ever worth trouble for you. C’mon,” Eddie tugged on his wrists again, and this time, it seemed to catch the guy off guard.

“Didn’t know you were into freaks, Harrington,” Tommy said as they took a few steps away from him. “If you’re gonna be gay, you could at least have taste.”

Eddie froze.

The guy, Harrington, tried to pull his wrists loose, but Eddie didn’t let him.

He turned to Tommy, the guy who almost got him arrested for selling at his party only a few months ago, and smirked.

If he was gonna out someone to a stranger, Eddie had no problem doing the same right now.

“And you just sucked my dick because you wanted to add it to your résumé?” Eddie grinned at Tommy, who quickly looked around to make sure no one else heard.

“As if I would-“ he tried to say, but Harrington cut him off.

“You forget you say shit when you’re high. You told me about it already. I think your exact words were, ‘he had the best dick I’ve ever seen, Steve.’ Or am I mixing that up with another dick?” Steve pulled one arm loose from Eddie’s grip, brushed hair from his face, and let it relax at his side.

Eddie could let go now, he was sure if anyone would start something at this point it would be Tommy. But Steve wasn’t trying to pull his other wrist loose and Eddie liked the warmth of him in his hand.

“Whatever man, just go. You don’t even wanna be here,” Tommy turned and left before Steve could respond.

Eddie finally let go, but he didn’t like the immediate sense of loss that filled his chest.

“You always interrupt strangers before they fight?” Steve asked him, hands shoved into his pockets.

Eddie really looked at him, inspected him. He only ever saw him at these parties, so the lighting was shit, but he’d noticed the dark shadows under his eyes a while ago. He noticed that he held himself in a way that showed he was always ready for a fight. Steve’s hair had gone flat over the last month or so, not nearly as voluminous or shiny as it had been at the start of the year.

“Are you okay?” He asked instead of answering the question.

“I’m fine, dude.”

Eddie shook his head. “You don’t seem okay.”

“Then why did you ask?”

“Just seems like something is bothering you,” Eddie wouldn’t push more, not if Steve was actually gonna get mad. But something told him that nobody pushed Steve to talk enough.

Eddie had Wayne back home, and his friends in his band here, and a couple coworkers at the bar he worked at twice a week now that he could joke around with. Steve didn’t even seem to have the people he hung around with.

“Why does it matter to you if something is bothering me?”

That’s a fair question. Why does it matter to him?

“Maybe because I just wanted to help. That’s what people do, right?”

“Not for me, usually.”

Eddie stepped closer, barely leaving space between them. “Well, I am.”

Steve stared back at him, shoulders dropping and eyes losing that angry fire.

“Why?”

Eddie was an idiot sometimes, but he was able to read people pretty well. It’s what kept him safe for most of middle and high school, and made him friends in college.

He knew what it looked like to be lonely and depressed, and Steve had check marks next to both of those.

“You wanna get out of here?” Eddie asked, once again avoiding his question.

“And go where?”

“I’ll show you my favorite getting high spot.”

“I don’t really smoke with strangers,” Steve seemed nervous.

“You don’t have to smoke. I’m just gonna show you the place.”

He watched Steve think about it, noting the way his brows scrunched together, how he bit his bottom lip, how he looked at the ground instead of at Eddie.

“Fine. But if you murder me in the woods, my mom will have you hanged,” Steve finally said.

“Hanged? Do they even do that anymore?”

Steve giggled. “Probably not. But she’d find a way.”

“Well, I’ve got no interest in murdering you, big boy.”

The blush that filled Steve’s cheeks was stunning. A perfect pink dusting his skin, giving him a healthier glow than what he’d had for a while.

“What do you have interest in?”

Eddie could say any number of things to flirt, make his true intentions clear, maybe even go straight back to his single dorm instead of showing Steve anywhere.

But Eddie figured that’s all Steve was used to, or maybe he was always the one who had to put an effort into things.

Maybe he wasn’t used to getting treated like a human being.

“I’d like to get to know you. Parties like this aren’t really a good place to learn about someone’s favorite song or what they snack on when they wake up in the middle of the night.”

Steve seemed shocked by this answer, but his features quickly melted into a soft smile, one Eddie would want to see every single day.

“Fine. But it’s not a date,” Steve held out his hand, ready to be led.

Instead of lacing his fingers with Steve’s, or even just grabbing his hand in his palm, he wrapped his fingers around Steve’s wrist again.

“We’ll see.”

———

On graduation day, Steve and Eddie found their way back to their spot, one they’d probably never visit again.

Eddie’s fingers were curled around Steve’s wrist as they stood facing each other, close enough to feel each other’s breaths against their lips.

Nearly two years together, nearly 300 trips to this spot, and more than 500 dates that they never called dates.

And it was just the beginning.

Eddie leaned in to press his lips to Steve’s gently, keeping it soft so they wouldn’t get carried away.

They had to meet Wayne at the Italian restaurant in less than an hour and then Steve’s mom expected them back at Steve’s apartment for a wine and dessert celebration.

They wouldn’t be properly alone like this again for at least a couple days, but they didn’t have time to do much about it right now.

“I love you,” Eddie whispered as he rested his forehead against Steve’s.

“I love you, too,” Steve said back.

He didn’t have dark shadows under his eyes anymore, spending more nights sleeping in bed with Eddie than awake at parties he didn’t want to be at. His hair had most of its shine back. He’d put on a few pounds after joining the gym again, using it as an outlet for stress instead of hiding in corners at parties where he would drink just enough to get buzzed four times a week.

He made friends with Eddie’s friends, plus some of his own when he got a part time job at the coffee shop on campus.

Steve never spoke to Tommy again, at least as far as Eddie knew. He didn’t seem interested in being his friend again, and once he told Eddie more about their “friendship”, he couldn’t really blame him.

“You ready to go see Wayne?” Steve asked him, probably more excited than even Eddie was.

Wayne and Steve bonded quickly and they’d probably spend most of the lunch talking about sports and where they would go fishing this summer.

Eddie nodded, but he pulled something from his pocket before Steve could pull away and start walking back to the car they now shared.

“What’s that?” Steve asked, pointing towards the envelope in Eddie’s hand.

“It’s a gift from me to you. Well, I guess both of us, but I really got it for you.”

He handed it to Steve, who opened it quickly.

He pulled out the paper inside and Eddie watched his eyes fly across the words written there.

“Eddie.”

“Stevie.”

“You got us a trip to Italy? How the fuck did you get us a trip to Italy?” Steve was looking at him, eyes wet with tears.

“Doesn’t matter how. Wayne gave us some money for it, so did your mom. I’ve been saving for a year. Want us to have something special before we have to start working.” Eddie kissed his forehead. “Plus I want any excuse to see you in some of those see-through linen shorts.”

Steve’s lips were on his, his arms wrapped around Eddie’s neck. Eddie wrapped his arms around his waist to hold him there.

“I’ll wear them every day,” he gasped as he leaned in for another kiss.

Eddie laughed. “You won’t hear any complaints from me, sugar.”

“I can’t believe you did this. All I got you was a t-shirt.”

“You know I love t-shirts. I know you love Italy. It’s a win-win for both of us.”

Steve rolled his eyes, but kissed him again.

His eyes widened. “Oh my god. Are you gonna propose in Italy?”

Eddie snorted. “Why would I answer that question?”

“Because! I have to know!”

“Why?”

“So I can make sure I have a nice outfit for pictures, dumbass.”

“You’ll just have to wait and see. You look good in everything,” Eddie kissed the top of his head before he wrapped his fingers around Steve’s wrist and tugged on it once. “Let’s get to Wayne before he sends a search party.”

Eddie smiled to himself as they walked to the car, Steve’s rambling about what he wanted to do in Italy keeping his mind from wandering too far. He couldn’t help thinking about the ring he had stashed away in his guitar case, though.

Italy was the perfect place to propose.

[sp0o0kylights]

Part Two

Gareth Emerson had no clue what the hell Eddie was thinking. 

There was “adopting lost sheep” as he called it, and “being the nest baby birds needed before they fly” for some of the other poor, mid-year transfers, and all of Hellfire was used to both these adoptees. 

People showed up, always looking a little hesitant, always a little careful, and all of them were welcomed until they found their place in Hawkin’s High. 

This though? This was neither of those things.

No, what Eddie had done was taken a wolf, or a--fucking tiger, that had gotten hurt fighting other fucking tigers, and decided to keep it as a pet. 

Even if said pet was looking very pathetic, with a face full of bruises that apparently, Billy Hargrove caused.

That did not make sitting across from the fallen King and current senior, Steve Harrington, any easier. 

Judging by the rest of Hellfire’s constant uneasy glances and uncomfortable, awkward joking, no one else was comfortable with it either. 

Except of course, for Eddie. 

“Dude can we like, talk for a minute?” Gareth asked, motioning at Jeff and Grant to distract Harrington. Not that it was hard, the jock was too busy staring at his pathetic packed lunch to notice much. 

(The guy brought soup to school and was drinking it cold. What the fuck.) 

“Ga~ary.” Eddie sing-songed, but it was in warning. 

A warning very much ignored, as Gareth stood, and moved to tug Eddie up with him. 

“Now, Eddie.” He said, his own tone a manic, if suppressed version of his own warning.

Gareth was not known for keeping his temper, but he also wasn’t keen on getting his ass kicked this early in the day if Harrington took offense. 

And considering they had all finally caught a look at Hargrove, and the way he fucking stopped and turned on his heel the second he saw Harrington, there was no doubt in Gareth’s mind that Harrington could kick his ass. 

Even in his current, beaten to shit state. 

Eddie huffed a dramatic breath, making sure at least some of his hair moved with it, but stood nonetheless. 

“I’ll return shortly, friends!” He called jovially, before letting himself be dragged backwards several feet. 

Just fair enough away where they could still see the table, but not be heard. 

Particularly not by any invading jocks. 

“What were you thinking!?”  Gareth started, hands crossed over his chest tightly.  “You didn’t even talk to us first!”

“Garebear, look at him.” Eddie said, placing both hands on his friend's face, turning it to look at Steve’s hunched form. 

“Those big, sad, puppy-dog eyes.” Eddie continued, leaning in to whisper in Gareth’s ear. “The pathetic way he slouches.”

 Eddie leaned even closer, lips tickling Gareth’s ear and making the latter swat at him. 

He dropped his hands to Gareth’s shoulders, shaking him lightly. 

“His giant empty house we can use for Hellfire meetings.”

“Is that seriously why you dragged him over here?” Gareth demanded, a little louder than he’d meant too, if Eddie’s abruptly tight grip was anything to go by. 

“Of course not.” Eddie scoffed. “Rumor has it the guy throws money around for his friends and if we play our cards right, we can be the receiving end of that gravy train.” 

Eddie grinned theatrically while he said it, staring into Gareth’s eyes like his smile alone would convince him to play along. 

It was the fakest thing Gareth had ever seen on his best friends face. 

“Don’t bullshit me man.” He said quietly, eyes narrowed. “What’s the actual reason you decided to go against your own doctrine and adopt Steve Harrington, of all people?” 

Eddie’s eyes flicked to Harrington and back. “There’s no other--”

“Eddie.” Gareth snapped, a flash of his temper breaking through. “You’re my best friend. Don’t fucking lie to me like that.” 

“Has anyone told you you’ve been using the word ‘fuck’ a lot, Gare?” Eddie muttered, but it was more subdued, the playful mask falling from his face. 

As a matter of fact, Ms. Click had called him out on it that very morning, but Gareth knew better than to admit that and derail this conversation. 

“Edwin Dale Munson.” Gareth growled, enjoying the way Eddie flinched from his full, government name. 

“Sssh!” Eddie dropped his hands from Gareth’s shoulder to wave them in his face. “Fine, fine, look. Rumor has it he got cheated on, blew up his friendship with Hateful Hagan and Cocky Carol, and then took a beating from Hargrove. All in the same like, week.” 

Eddie tugged at his hair, the movement harsh. 

“I found him walking home in the dark the other day. Said something was wrong with his car, but Gareth.” Eddie paused, gnawing on his lower lip, before he stopped close once again, voice barely above a whisper. 

“I had to coax him in my car and when he got in he kept flinching.” 

“Flinching.” Gareth repeated. 

“Like I was gonna hit him or something.” Eddie explained. “Worse Harrington’s house was dark when I got home. I mentioned to Wayne it didn’t look like anybody lived there and he said he was surprised anyone did. He thought the Harrington’s moved.” 

“Okay.” Gareth said, not quiet following this part of the conversation. 

“He thought they moved because some coworker of his wife worked for them as a house keeper or some shit. Said they bought a place in Chicago. She helped them pack.” 

Another look, but this time Gareth had picked up on what was happening. 

The flinching. 

Not going with his parents.

Staying in Hawkins, when Harrington had a chance to get the hell out. 

It didn’t paint a pretty picture. 

“Shit.” Gareth said finally.

Eddie nodded. “Exactly.” 

Together, they turned to stare at Harrington, who had hunched further into himself now that Eddie was gone from the table. 

“If he turns on us I’m blaming you.” Gareth grumbled finally, and tried not to let the smile that broke out on Eddie’s face effect him. 

“Glad to hear you’re on board, Garebear.” Eddie said, patting his shoulder hard. 

“You’re a fucking teddy bear, you know that right?” Gareth continued as they turned to walk back to the table.

“Shut your mouth.” Eddie fired back. 

“I don't think I will. In fact, Harrington!” Gareth spoke the jock’s name loudly, making the dude jerk and spill some of his soup. 

Bruised eyes looked up at him and Gareth fired a smug right into Harrington’s face. “Wouldn’t you agree that Eddie here is a giant teddy bear?”

“Don’t answer that.” Eddie cut in, as Harrington blinked slowly, a puzzled look overtaking his face. “Gareth here has a big imagination.”

“Let the man give his own opinions. I’m sure he has some!” 

Steve looked between them. 

“I think I’ll plead the fifth.” He decided on. 

“Smart man.” Jeff muttered, causing the rest of the table to snicker.

For the first time since he sat down, Gareth witnessed a small smile appear on Harrington’s face. 

[melonalemonade]

happy pride month 🤩

[stervrucht]