#stranger things found family

[sky-neverending]

Max Mayfield has both two moms and two dads.

i see a lot of shit about Maxs “moms” (Nancy and Robin) which i love, I love that. But i think we should also consider Max and her “dads.”

I am a FIRM believer in the Max & Eddie dynamic. I think Eddie would take Max under his wing and away from her toxic household. I have written many a fic where they live together.

But Steve and Max also have that bond. I mean, Steve got a letter, didn’t he? You can’t tell me she doesn’t see that man as someone to look up to.

My favorite group out of all the Stranger Things characters is Eddie & Steve & Max & Dustin. They are a happy little family. (i throw in Will and El on occasion too bc the Eddie & Will dynamic is something i need desperately in life.)

But I also live Max having strong women to look up to, hence why Nancy and Robin are her moms.

She’s gets 4 queer young adults as her parents that aren’t actually blood related to her, but they love her like their own.

[shares-a-vest]

Wayne shuffles to the door, desperate to answer the incessant knocking that sounds like whoever is on the other side is going to beat the exterior fly screen straight off its hinges. He is greeted by Claudia Henderson, clutching her handbag strap tight across her chest and looking very serious.

Although it might just be his sleep-deprived inability to gauge the emotions of chipper 9-to-5 receptionists who wear cosy sweaters. He checks his watch. He’s only been asleep for about an hour after getting home from night shift - what with waiting for Hurricane Eddie to finally head off for the garage.

“Hello, Wayne,” Claudia nods and purses her lips.

He scrubs a hand over his face but steps back nonetheless to let her in. Claudia is one step in the doorway anyhow.

“Coffee,” he not-so-much asks as he moves to the kitchen.

“No, thank you,” Claudia says politely, “I usually wait for my morning tea break.”

He looks over to find her pulling out his assigned chair at the breakfast table. She looks nervous, if a little pissed off as she gathers her handbag up on her lap. He blinks harshly and pinches his nose enough to press his forefinger and thumb into the inner corners of his eyes. He really needs to wake the hell up a little more, it appears.

“What did Eddie do?” he sighs, looking over the drying rack on the sink for one of the mugs he has in his rotation at the present time.

“Oh, Eddie hasn’t done a thing!” she insists, a smile evident in her voice, “I’m here about Steve.”

Cubs mug it is then...

He frowns again and turns back to Claudia, confused. And the woman looks like she was expecting such a reaction because she huffs and straightens up, looking like she is readying herself to give a sermon on the kid.

“I need you to help me convince that boy to move in with Dustin and me,” she explains, promptly holding up a defensive hand, “Now, I know he stays here, mostly This isn’t about anything to do with you… Or Eddie…”

She tacks that last mention of his nephew on with a tone and a knowing look.

Wayne clears his throat. It’s certainly far too early in the morning for the ins and outs of that conversation. He flicks the kettle on to drown out the awkward silence between them.

“Have you uh...” he hums and scratches the back of his neck as he searches for words, “Have you talked with him about this, at all?”

Claudia squeaks out a noise he assumes is a negative as he quickly spoons coffee into his mug. He’ll settle for black coffee for now - he really cannot be assed to stand up for much longer, even if he did have the sense to quickly step into his comfy slippers when Claudia came a-pounding on the door.

“And you want my help specifically?” he says, raising his voice above the steaming kettle that is whistling away in boiling readiness.

“Yes!”

He waves a hand in the air, “Well, what about Robin?”

“Oh, gosh, no! I can’t talk to that girl,” he barks a laugh that makes Claudia startle in her seat, forcing her to clarify, “I mean she is a steel trap about that boy!”

Wayne smirks and nods as he heads for the table with his piping hot - and hopefully, heavily caffeinated - beverage, “He’s not the biggest talker when it comes to himself.”

“I’m not one to speak ill of other mothers,” Claudia says in a hushed tone, “God knows, I am not perfect. But where are his parents?”

She rocks a little with each word like she has needed to ask that question for a good long while. Of course, Wayne thinks about Steve’s parents. A lot. Because the boy almost never mentions them.

He shrugs, “He says they stayed away on business.”

“After everything that has happened in this town?” she argues, voice growing shrill with worry, “Did he tell you what actually happened with the mall fire? It was more of that other dimension nonsense!”

He almost chokes on his coffee. He knows a little - there was no way around it with Eddie in the hospital surrounded by all those secret nurses and doctors. But he didn’t know Claudia Henderson knew about some of it too. Still, he decides to remain cautious and gestures for her to continue.

“And he’s been concussed more times than he can remember!”

She slumps back in her seat with a look of such horror, Wayne thinks the sweet woman sitting opposite him considers it her closing argument.

Wayne taps on the rim of his coffee cup. They would have to tread carefully, not ambush the kid.

“He does get a lot of migraines - ” is all he can think to say.

“ - And he has dizzy spells,” Claudia cuts in, leaning forward. He can see tears starting to well up, “I just want him to be looked after. I know he’s a young man with his own life and everything, but he still needs a parent to care for him, to support him.”

“Yeah,” Wayne nods firmly, “Yes, he does.”

[hoperays-song]

I don’t think you’re getting it guys, there are two types of found family: the organized type, with “I chose you and I choose us’, healing together, and nurturing vibes, and the chaotic type, which mainly falls into the “good luck getting rid of me now” category like bringing home stray cats does.

Sometimes it’s just one, other times it’s both combined in some way. And both options are so fucking amazing.

[imthekingofgotham]

[imfinereallyy]

“Dad is going to be very angry,” El says with wide eyes taking in the scene before them.

“You think Hop will kill him?” Steve says as he leans against the doorway, eating a Twizzler.

El looks at Steve momentarily, sticking her hand out for some candy. Steve hands her one without hesitation. El rips a piece off before speaking. “Oh yes. He might ask you to help hide the body.”

Steve nods solemnly, “I’ll do what needs to be done. Mikes’s my least favorite child anyway.”

“Hey!” Mike yells, gaining the duo's attention. It brings them back to the scene they walked in on. Mike and Will, with the door closed (no three inches in sight) on top of each other, making out.

Steve doesn't think he’ll ever get that image out of his brain.

“Chill, Wheeler, I'm joking,” Steve says pointedly before turning to El and mouthing no, I'm not.

El giggles, and Steve can't help but feel like he won a prize at the sound.

“I'm sorry, El.” Will blushes with shame, like he is betraying his sister somehow.

El just shrugs, “I do not care. But Dad might. He hates Mike.”

Steve snorts, “That's the understatement of the century. I don't think Hop has ever hated someone’s partner like he has Mike. Honestly, I was surprised he liked Eddie. I mean like is a strong word. But he tolerates him.”

Will pipes up, “I think he does mostly because he knows you'll move out, and he only just got you to agree to stay here.”

Steve shrugs, “I’ll take what I can get. At least he doesn't walk on me having sex.”

“We weren't having sex!” Mike practically screams. Hands up exasperated. “And don't talk about you and Eddie; it's gross.”

Will blushes deeply with head in his hands, “Oh, God.” El pats him on the shoulder in sympathy.

“Also, this wouldn't have happened if you weren't an idiot and just knocked!” Mike stomps. Jesus, this kid is 15 acting 6.

“I was the one who walked in, Mike. I wanted to know if Will wanted to watch a movie.” El says coldly, getting defensive of her brother.

Mike clams up, Steve can't help but feel smug.

“Who’s having sex?!?” A distinct Hopper-like voice echoes through the house.

Will and Mike share a panicked look while Steve and El take more Twizzlers from the bag.

“Oh no. Mike! What are we going to do?”

Mike sputters, “He doesn't have to know it was us! And we weren't having sex!”

Will looks at him like Mike is the biggest moron he's ever met. Steve loves the kid (despite early protest) but has to agree. “Oh gee Mike, I wonder who he will think it was about. Steve? Who is dating a man who isn't here and keep in mind, it's Steve. Who is our brother, and five years older than us? And in a relationship? And let's not forget..is Steve?!”

“This is fair.” Steve agrees. If anyone but Baby Byers had attempted to say that, Steve would have been pissed. But it's Will, so it's coming from a good place.

“Also! Also! The other person here is El! Who is my sister! Not to mention your ex—”

“—well it could have been—”

“Micheal Steven Wheeler, if the next words out of your mouth are it could have been you and El, I will never be kissing you again.” Will uses a deathly tone. Steve isn't convinced he didn't get from El.

“Your middle name is Steven?” Steve fills giddy.

“Shut up Steve!”

Will pinches his brows, “And you idiot, if it were you and El, you would still he toast.”

Steve whistles, “Shit, Will. Next time I need to win an argument against Eddie. I'm coming to you.”

“How long does it take for dad to get upstairs?” El interrupts.

All of them look down the hall. “Huh, maybe we are in the clear,” Mike whispers.

“I said who is having sex?!?” Hopper comes thundering up the stairs.

“I think this is what Max calls a jinx.” El looks at Mike unphased.

Steve can't help but feel a little bad for Will. He looks panicked around the room, probably looking for a hiding place. Steve knows that it isn't that same fear Will once had of Lenny, Hop wouldn't hurt them ever, but he can't help but feel a little protective of him. Steve knows all too well how the fears of biological fathers can sneak up on you, even if you know you're safe. “Don’t worry, Will. I'll make sure Hop takes it easy.”

Will relaxes, “Thanks Steve.”

“What about me?” Mike asks, eyes wide.

El shares a look with Steve. Spending as much time as they have lately has allowed them to talk without speaking most of the time. It freaks everyone but Robin out (she gets it). Seconds go by before they both nod in agreement.

Steve and El both wip their heads towards Mike, and Steve says, “You were grossed out by my relationship and called me stupid. Suffer.”

Mike's outcry is in synch with Hop breaking through screaming, “There better be three inches!”

[leverage-ot3]

the found family trope is inherently queer and you can’t change my mind

[kazswift]

platonic relationships in media are actually so much more important to me than romantic ones. not sorry

[afewproblems]

I think Steve needs a secret creative hobby that he springs on the group, surprising everyone.

Sometimes, it can be a little depressing to believe that everyone you love sees you as this one guy, this dumb jock. Intellectually, he knows that the kids and Robin, Nance, and Eddie don't think he's stupid, but that doesn't make the feeling go away.

What if his mom had put him in a ballroom dancing class when he was younger? From age 7 to 12, he took dancing through an independent studio with the other rich kids. It started with ballroom, which continued into swing-dancing. He loved it.

And Steve was good.

He was fluid and graceful, an absolute natural the instructor would remark to his mother when she would come to pick him up. In fact, they were picking kids to participate in the upcoming tournament for the youth category, and Steve was a perfect candidate, the instructor said.

That was until his dad made the executive decision to pull Steve out and force him into sports after catching Steve dancing with his mom in the kitchen. Watching his son twirling around with Susan Harrington, a small indulgent smile on her face, was the final straw for Richard.

"No son of mine is going to prance around like that, like a little fairy," he snarled as he dragged Steve away from the kitchen, his firm white-knuckle grip holding Steve's small arm as they made their way up the stairs to his room.

Steve tried not to make a sound as he covered his ears to the yelling match taking place in room below him.

Steve ended up in little league the next day.

Steve still practiced though, on his own.

It wasn't as though he hadn't made friends in that class, kids who kept on with it.

He missed it, he missed them. He missed how he felt when dancing.

It was freeing.

Carla Neilson taught him the new steps, things she continued to learn while Steve played baseball, basketball, and eventually made the swim team in highschool.

Swimming would probably be the closest he would get to that feeling of gliding along the floor, that grace and fluidity never really leaving him.

He had been a decent player at one time because of his quick feet, but that was before Billy Hargrove rolled into town. Steve never quite learned how to plant his feet because dancing always kept him moving, Hargrove seemed to enjoy pointing out how truly 'fairy-like' he was as he made his way across the court. Those words, the same words his father had hissed at him, all those years ago left him cold and hurt.

He stops dancing after that.

It's not until years later, after Vecna, after Billy dies and his Father disowns him, after he kisses Eddie for the first time and he finally feels like he can breath again that the group finds out.

It's at a party. Everyone of age is a little tipsy or faded at this point in the evening and playing a question game, the kids roll their eyes at their older friends antics and stick to the Nintendo across the living room of Steve and Eddie's apartment.

The question of, 'What is your hidden talent,' comes up and everyone takes their turn.

Robin recites the alphabet backwards, not blinking or pausing the entire way which everyone applauds for once she's finished.

Nancy does a quick handstand and takes three steps backward before dropping her legs back to the ground, she curtsies with a sly smile and laughs as she sits next to Robin again who is staring at Nancy like shes never seen her before.

Eddie thinks for a moment before lifting his hand to his mouth and blows out an impressively loud whistle that prompts Mike to tell them all off for being loud.

Jonathan blows a giant smoke ring while Argyle moonwalks around the living room, earning the pair of them a chorus of woops and applause.

Everyone turns to Steve once Argyle drops back to his seat next to Jonathan, "Alright brochacho you're up man," he says with a hazy smile.

Steve thinks for a moment, looking around at everyone, all of these people who love him, and makes a decision.

"Uh, yeah okay, I've got one," he says slowly before standing up from the loveseat he's sharing with Eddie, "but I'll need a volunteer and some music".

"Oh my God," Robin stage whispers to Nancy, "is he going to do magic right now? Steven Harrington can you do magic??"

Steve snorts and rolls his eyes, "I think I found my volunteer," he holds out his hand for Robin to take as Eddie stands up to turn on their second-hand record player they got from Uncle Wayne as a house warming.

"Uh, one of mine Eds," Steve says with a slight shake to his voice, "something with a beat".

"Oh shit," Robin chokes out as Steve tugs her close. She nearly stumbles, but his arms hold her up.

Eddie smirks like it's a challenge and pulls out Whitney Houston, earning a smile from Jonathan and a small, 'really?' from Nancy.

Argyle laughs, "Heck Yeah man, Whitney rocks dude, turn that shit up!"

Steve smiles and takes a deep breath, his heart is racing but he doesn't care in this moment, he looks at Eddie who is grinning at him, a slightly curious look on his face.

And it's like riding a bike, he leads Robin across the small space twirling and dipping her as she squeals and tries to follow.

Steve probably could have picked a slightly less clumsy volunteer, but he loves Robin and showing her, showing them all, this part of himself after hiding it for so long just means the world to him.

He keeps his own feet fast, keeping the beat but moving Robin where she needs to be as they glide over the carpet, he spins her out and then back into his arms as the song ends, they are both breathing heavily by the time the last note rings out and Robin can't contain her hands from smacking into Steve's chest as she yells, "Who the fuck are you! Dingus how could you hide this!"

Steve blushes as Eddie comes up behind him to hook his head over his shoulder as his arms come up to wrap around Steve's waist.

"Fancy footwork dude," Argyle says nodding at Jonathan who is looking at Steve with fascination.

"When did you learn to dance?" Nancy asks, her voice soft and kind, as though she knows exactly how big this is for him.

"I will accept the fact that you did not pick me to dance just now if I can be your partner next time," Eddie says into Steve's ear, letting his teeth graze the lobe slightly making Steve shiver and laugh.

El and Max refuse to let him sit down for the rest of the night, insisting that he do that spinning move with each of them until all of the kids demand a turn.

Even Mike.

And he loves them all, happy to have finally shared this piece of himself with all of them. His heart is full.

[chopinrefound]

Found Party✨

[sky-neverending]

max and eddie being close is so important to me. it’s. it’s so important. i think that they would have such a bond between them, such a sibling dynamic that i wish i saw more. like i love max and steve, don’t get me wrong, but max and eddie!!! i love them!!!! i need them more!!

eddie and steve are like Max’s dads and it’s SO cute and I NEED IT!!!! legit. like they are such a trio, and they work so well on their own and together. it’s honestly one of my favorite things to write because the banter between max and eddie is on point and i love everything about them.

like- i have a wip where eddie lives and plays scrabble with max, dustin, and steve (my little family omg) and makes the pieces braille for Max (cause she’s blind from vecna) and it’s a little found family moment and everything is perfect and. i love them.

max and eddie sibling truther right here. i will never shut up about them. ever.

[sp0o0kylights]

I feel like Robin and Eddie would fight over Steve's jackets and in doing so, accidentally set off a chain reaction with the kids.

Lucas offers Max his letterman jacket and she swears she wouldn't be caught dead in it.

(She steals his favorite everyday hoodie when he's not looking and sleeps in it. Lucas can't stop smiling when he figures out where it went.)

Dustin mails Suzie his favorite jacket. She mails him back a hair tie. He wears it on his wrist behind his watch.

(He wears two additional hair ties on his opposite wrist These are extra's for Erica, Max or El -and on one occasion Eddie- when they're in need of one, which is often.)

El doesn't quite understand the concept and ends up getting a jacket off everyone, but Max's is her favorite.

(Someone at school spilled paint on it once and she almost sent the guy through a wall she was so upset.)

Will ends up with one of Mike's and refuses to admit its his.

(Mike, oblivious, always admits its his.)

Mike has one from El and Will but wears the one he stole from Eddie most often.

(Steve has a nonstop list of jokes regarding Mike slowly stealing Eddie's style.)

Lucas has Steve's old jacket, but he also has a leather jacket from Jeff. He alternates the two of them.

(Max and Will worked together to make a patch to go inside Steve's and outside of Jeff's, both of which sit over Lucas's heart.)

Steve does not have anyone's jacket.

(What he does have is an entire rainbow of random stuff from everyone, ranging from shirts (Eddie) to cool rocks or bracelets and random jewelery pieces (Robin) to so many other things that have been left, on purpose or not, in his car/house/room/life.

Steve treasures every single thing.)

[steddielations]

Joseph, Gaten and Joe Keery having the real life dynamic of Eddie, Dustin and Steve is my favorite thing lmao

[where-our-stories-start]

"Gruff, jaded man accidentally adopts feisty child" has got to be one of my favorite genres

[j2h5b5]

There was only one thing that could have dragged Steve out of bed at two in the morning when he was nursing a booze-induced headache and an Eddie Munson-induced heartache.

“We need you,” she said.

He didn’t even bother putting on a jacket.

***

Dustin was sloppy, red-eyed and so unsteady that when Steve thunked a strong hand down on his shoulder, he almost lost his balance turning away from the group of asshats he’d taken up with to see who had grabbed him. Some of the drink in his hand sloshed over the sides of the cup and dribbled down the front of his shirt and onto the already filthy kitchen floor.

“Hey, what the—” he began, and then he dragged his gaze up to land on Steve.

There was a time, not so very long ago, when those same eyes would’ve lit up at the sight of his babysitter slash idol slash best friend. He would wrap him in a hug if it had been a day or two since he’d seen him, or sling a companionable arm around him, or punch him good-naturedly in the arm in hopes of initiating a play scuffle, which inevitably ended with him in a headlock getting his mop of curls aggressively tousled because he was just never going to have any kind of athletic edge on Steve.

But now.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” the younger boy asked in a tone so sharp and cold and so very NOT-Dustin that it made Steve’s heart squeeze painfully in his chest.

“Hey, man,” Steve said, aiming for casual if only to keep Dustin from embarrassing himself in front of his new asshat friends. “Can I talk to you? Step outside with me for a sec, okay?”

“Um, no,” Dustin bit out. “This’s my party, i'ss my house. It would be rude to leave my guests.”

“Yeah, since you brought that up … who are these people?” Steve swept his gaze over the Henderson kitchen, which was almost unrecognizable with all of the clutter, displaced furniture, and wasted teenagers. “And Dustin … where’s your mom?”

“Not here.”

“Well yeah, I kind of gathered that. Listen, Dust…”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Are the others here?”

“Oh, you mean the traitors who called and ratted me out to YOU? Who the fuck cares?” His voice lowered to what he seemed to think was a conspiratorial level but was really just an extremely loud stage whisper. “Maybe they tripped and fell and landed their buzzkill asses back in the Upside Down.”

“Okay, that’s it.”

Before Dustin could protest, the cup was plucked from his hand and tossed expertly across the room, over the heads of several unwary drunken youths and into the crusty-dish-crowded sink and he was being towed along behind Steve through the kitchen, the living room, out the front door.

“What the fuck, Harrington? Let go of me! Let go!” Dustin struggled against the vise grip on his bicep but only succeeded in ensuring he’d probably have finger-shaped bruises there tomorrow.

Steve paid him no mind until he had deposited the boy into the passenger seat of his car, slammed the door, and locked it. Then he walked around to the driver’s side, unlocked it only long enough to get in, relocked it, and turned to Dustin.

“First of all,” he began loudly, drowning out Dustin’s sputtering attempts to find the words he wanted to hurl at Steve in his outrage at being manhandled out of his own party. “First of all. Joking about the Upside Down in a room full of strangers? NOT OKAY.”

“They don’t even know what—”

“Not. Fucking. Okay. SECOND, if you ever imply again that one of ours should BE in the Upside Down, you will find yourself with my foot so far up your ass you’ll choke on my shoe, and if you think I’m joking about that, Dustin, try me.”

This time there was only an eye-roll from Dustin, because he kind of didn’t want to try Steve on that point and because he kind of felt bad about saying it.

“Third, your friends are not traitors. They care about you and they’re worried about you; they called me for help because you’re treating them like shit and shut down every attempt they make to help you. Listen, I know I’m not your favorite person right now, Dustin, but you have to let someone help you. You’re not okay, buddy. This isn’t you. And all this shit you’re doing, the drinking and the partying and the pretending not to give a damn? It isn’t going to fix anything. It … it won’t bring him back.”

“Shut up!” Dustin shouted, flinching so hard at the words that he smacked the back of his head against the side window. Steve winced at the sound of skull meeting glass and resisted the urge to reach out and check for blood, or a bump. Dustin seemed not to have noticed that he’d nearly brained himself, infusing his next words with all the venom he could muster. “You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about, Steve. Even if you were right, it’s none of your business what I do! I am none of your business.”

“Don’t say shit like that, Dustin. Of course you’re my business.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah! What are you saying?”

Dustin barked out a humorless laugh. “As much as I’d like to sit here with you and have a heart to heart right now, I have to get back to my guests.”

“No,” Steve snapped, reaching over Dustin to slap down the peg lock when the teen yanked it up. “We’re not done here. Now I can go inside and clear out your house and we can talk there, or you can drop the bullshit and talk to me right now.”

“You’re not shutting down my party.”

“Then we talk here.”

“I have nothing to say to you.”

“Right, sure you don’t. Maybe I can give you some words, then. How about this, Dustin? How about: ‘Hey, Steve, you useless idiot loser, you promised to keep us safe and then you fucked it all up like you always do. The plan didn’t work and Max got hurt and Eddie fucking died, and you couldn’t stop it. I hate you for that, for lying and making us feel safe and telling us it was going to be okay. I can’t even look at you anymore and I hate my friends because they don’t hate you for some reason, but we know, don’t we? We know whose fault it is that we came back a man short. It’s yours, Steve. Yours.’” Steve’s voice was cracked and painful, like he’d been eating gravel and chasing it with cheap whisky and cigarettes. It hurt, that voice. “How’s that, Dust?” he finished, staring unflinching into Dustin’s shocked eyes. “Am I in the ballpark?”

Before Steve could react, Dustin unlocked his door and flung himself out of the car. He was drunk and it was dark, though, and he only made it a few yards before tripping and landing hard on the grass. Steve was on him almost instantly, hauling him up by the arms and scanning him for injuries.

He didn’t see the punch coming, wouldn’t have believed Dustin Henderson capable of such an effective hit, right in the mouth, knocking him back a couple of feet. “Jesus, Dustin!” he shouted, touching his lip and staring dumbfounded when his fingers came away wet with blood. “What the fuck, man?”

“Hit me back.”

“What? No! Dustin, what’s—”

“HIT ME BACK, STEVE! You have to!” Dustin’s voice cracked, the sudden violent burst of emotion threatening to unleash something big and scary and unforgivable. A tidal wave that had a name.

Steve grappled wildly with the boy, trying to grab his flailing arms so he could pin him, but Dustin was surprisingly swift in his current state, and he launched another punch, this one landing heavy in Steve’s gut and socking the breath right out of him.

“HIT ME, STEVE! I KNOW YOU WANT TO, JUST DO IT!”

Fueled by a burst of frustration and a sharper burst of fear (what is this?), Steve recovered enough to trap Dustin’s arms against his body, using his own weight to twist the boy around until he was trapped with his back against Steve, the hold immobilizing him so all he could do was squirm and shout out his fury. “LET ME GO FUCK YOU STEVE WHY WON’T YOU JUST FIGHT BACK YOU ASSHOLE?!”

“Dustin, stop. Stop it. Breathe, Dustin. Take a breath. No, hey, stop. You’re not going anywhere until you calm down for me. Breathe. Shhh, buddy. Breathe,” Steve’s hold was unbudging, his tone stern but soothing. Dustin’s violent struggles gradually slowed, and it took a couple of minutes for Steve to realize that the boy was shaking with silent sobs. And then the sobs became words, almost indecipherable in the wrecked, wretched voice that was rough and strained from screaming.

Every sentence Steve parsed from the stream of horrible self-accusations added another crack to his heart, which couldn’t have been more than a mess of spiderwebbing at this point.

It’s my fault.

He’s dead because of me.

I couldn’t save him.

You loved him, I know you did.

Why don’t you hate me?

Why don’t you hate me?

Why don’t you hate me?

Finally, finally, the words stopped and Dustin sagged, exhausted, in Steve’s arms. Only then did Steve ease up on his hold, but only long enough to turn the boy around and hug him properly. He bent down to bury his face in the unruly curls, his own tears falling unchecked and inconsequential.

“Dustin,” he whispered into the mop of hair. “Oh, Dustin, never.”

And when he realized he didn’t have the right words, he just stopped. He just picked Dustin up and carried him to his car, buckled him into the passenger seat, and told him he would be right back. He had a party to break up, some kids to chase away, and a boy—his boy—to mend.

“You loved him, I know you did.”

With a soul-cleansing breath that sounded more like a sob, Steve made his way back up to the Hendersons’ house.

[bisexual-steveharrington]

Can’t stop thinking about Max and Eddie moving into Steve’s house after they’ve spent weeks healing in the hospital and he cooks for them and takes care of them and they fill his big, cold house with warmth and light and love. Steve and Eddie fumble through falling in love and also essentially raising a teenage girl but they manage because they do it together. They have a calendar on the fridge that has all their names and their weekly plans so they always know where everyone is that day. Max writes “family dinner” by all their names once a week and it makes Steve happy cry to see it.

[radagasttt]

alright yall whos getting the frodo ending