#swim captain Steve harrington

[sabbathbloodysabbeth]

You Looking at me, Looking at you

Word count: 10,356

Part: 1/2 (next part will be out soon let me know if you want to be tagged)

Summary: Steve Harrington has fought a demogorgan and numerous demo dogs. Those were supposed to be the scariest and most challenging things he’s ever done in his life. Instead, he quickly discovers the most scariest and gorgeous thing in Eddie Munson. A freak and supposed outcast he is supposed to teach how to swim before he graduates. Which in itself alone could spark PTSD in anybody. Flirting with fake southern accents, sharing a joint and slowly becoming closer Steve slowly realizes that D.A.R.E should have a whole course talking about what you should do to avoid becoming addicted to one human being. Specifically Eddie Munson, who has become the center of his universe in a shockingly short amount of time.

Ao3 link

"𝕻𝖎𝖈𝖙𝖚𝖗𝖊𝖘 𝕭𝖚𝖎𝖑𝖉𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖎𝖓 𝖒𝖞 𝖍𝖊𝖆𝖉, 𝖓𝖔𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖉𝖔𝖓𝖊 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖓𝖔𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖘𝖆𝖎𝖉, 𝖙𝖆𝖑𝖐𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖙𝖔 𝖒𝖊 𝖜𝖎𝖙𝖍 𝖞𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝖊𝖞𝖊𝖘 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖜𝖍𝖆𝖙 𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖞 𝖘𝖆𝖞 𝖎𝖘 𝖓𝖔 𝖘𝖚𝖗𝖕𝖗𝖎𝖘𝖊, 𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘 𝖆𝖗𝖊 𝖘𝖔 𝖒𝖚𝖈𝖍 𝖉𝖎𝖋𝖋𝖊𝖗𝖊𝖓𝖙 𝖓𝖔𝖜, 𝖇𝖚𝖙 𝖓𝖔𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖑𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖘 𝖋𝖔𝖗𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖗. 𝖄𝖔𝖚 𝖑𝖔𝖔𝖐𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖆𝖙 𝖒𝖊, 𝖑𝖔𝖔𝖐𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖆𝖙 𝖞𝖔𝖚, 𝕴 𝖜𝖆𝖓𝖓𝖆 𝖙𝖆𝖑𝖐 𝖙𝖔 𝖞𝖔𝖚"

Swim practice always began at two thirty five. Always five minutes after the last bell released all of the kids from their final class of the day. Leaving only five minutes for Steve to sprint to the locker room, strip and be on the edge of the pool waiting for his coach to come out. Whistle over his hairy chest, and tiny shorts on. There was no reason for Mr. Winchester to be shirtless or in such tiny shorts, no one on the swim team has ever seen him even touch the water. Let alone in it. Today started off like most days. Make sure not to eat anything with in the hour, rush to be there on time and wait anxiously on the side of the pool. Steve always had a problem with waiting. He just wanted to jump right in and get wet, holding his breath and just floating under the water sitting at the bottom of the pool for just a minute before coming back up. Swimming the eight feet smoothly.

The doors behind the line of boys slams open. A loud laugh as someone's voice bounces off the walls. Causing everyone to cringe, as they all assume that this was just some random kid coming in to laugh at them. If they all had placed bets that moment all of them would have bet for the same thing. Standing in the doorway stood Eddie Munson. A metal head loser who didn't have any problems sneering at any form of jock in the hallways or hopping up on a lunch table and going into a loud tangent over conformity.

They all watch as the others nose scrunches up, the smell of chlorine hitting him. The way  his face goes a light pink as he looks at the line of different shirtless guys with swimming trunks that barely hid anything. Steve, for a split second is distracted by his desire to jump into the deep end along with his other teammates. Curious as to how this guy was going to react, the obvious vein that was popping from his neck was an interesting sight. Though before anyone can say anything, the locker-room doors slam open.

"Munson! Strip and get in line! ASAP, or you will be failing gym this year!"

Steve, along with the other guys on the swim team quickly stiffen up and look forward. Used to the strict manner of Coach Winchester. Standing up straight and tall everyone keeps their eyes forward as they hear grunts coming from behind them. Chains clinking to the floor, all of them including Steve wished they could look behind them and see what was going on. Though they could only watch the teachers face, which goes a little red from irritation. The sounds of clothing being dropped to the ground were obvious, and the guy to Steve's right was holding his breath. Fighting back a few chuckles, up until Eddie mutters under his breath. Only for the teenagers surrounding him to here.

"God, never seen a man more excited about getting a guy naked,"

Eddie Munson was a interesting case, a well known class clown that was bound to make everyone laugh at some point. His first victim was Bobby Riley. A guy who Steve has only had a proper conversation with only a handful of times. From the small impression he had, the guy took swimming seriously. Obviously for the scholarships. Hearing the soft snort coming from him of all people meant they were all screwed. Winchester hears the soft noise and his eyes fly over his team. With military experience, he has always expected some of the rules to drift over to swimming. If you were going to be on his team, you would take it seriously. "Riley, ten laps back and forth now." He spits out. Leveling the suspects down to Bobby, who was the only one who was squirming in his place.

Without argument Bobby Riley moves diving in the water, swimming fluidly under the water. Making it halfway through the pool before coming up for air. Not stopping from moving forward. "Munson, take Riley's spot? Steven, make sure he doesn't crack his head open like a dumbass." The man barks out. Steve stiffens up just a little bit as he feels the presence of the other boy now next to him. A little to close to him for what the line should be. He would glance over but he knew that would receive him twenty laps for breaking position.

"Yes Sir." He says softly. Never having to raise his voice, letting the walls carry it over to the approaching man. Who was now in front of Kyle Evans. Who was staring forward blankly and not reacting in the slightest. The coach stares him down for a few seconds before the demeanor of the boy shakes. Winchester shakes his head with a eye roll before moving to the next boy, and then the next. Searching for something that was unknown amongst the team.

Steve was the next one to receive the stare down. He keeps his chest raised, breathing in slowly and releasing air softly as he doesn't break eye contact with the older. He could feel Eddie's eyes on the both of them. Whatever the man seems to be searching for, he finds when Steve doesn't break like the others. "Well seems like Harrington is the only one out of the lot of you to have some respect and discipline. All of you! Ten laps with Riley!" Steve moves to follow along listening to orders but he is stopped just as fast as they were spoken "Harrington, you're going to have to teach this joke how to swim. Think you can handle that? Know you have the life guard experience."

Steve nearly hesitates, almost says no. He doesn't have this. He didn't want to teach Eddie Munson how to swim. The guy would be a waste of his time. Realistically, this was a opportunity of being on coaches good side. The whole team knew that when you were there you would receive all the perks. So instead of hesitating he takes the whole situation with stride. Speaking confidently but not cocky as he answers. "Yeah, I can handle it coach."

The coach pauses for a second looking through him again, as if he was thinking. "Good. This will be a practice run for now. Take him to the kitty pool out back where the juniors swim and show him some things. But after today you will have to figure out how to teach him on your own personal time." The others voice is gruff as he talks.

Well shit, what the hell did Steve just get himself into?

Ten minutes later, Steve discovered the spawn of Satan. The bane of his existence. The eighth wonder of the world. He's sure finding Atlantis or proving that aliens were real would be a lot easier then whatever the hell was going on now. Eddie Munson was like a fish. Out of water. Flopping around like he was on land, instead of being in water. Water was spraying all over the place and Steve was really trying to be patient. Not many words were passed between the two of them but this was not working.

"Munson! For the love of god will you stop just for five seconds!" Steve yells over the splashing of the water. He is tempted to snap at the guy. But after five minutes in the pool he had quickly caught onto the fact that the other wasn't doing this on purpose. Which was a little bit scary, because that meant he was just that bad at swimming. The guy looked like a puppy meeting water for the first time. Pouncing around and splashing water all over. His hair was laying flat down on his forehead and in his face, matting over his shoulders. Constantly flipping the water out of his hair without any luck of getting it out of his face. If Steve was going to be doing this more then once he made note of being a small box of hair ties for the other to wear.

Unlike Steve, Eddie was in a pair of his checkered boxers. Falling down his hips a little with the water, and god forbid if Steve looked longer then five seconds he was definitely able to see through them. He was the opposite of Steve. Steve was a bit buffed up, tanned out with freckles dotting along his skin. Eddie was scrawny, paler then a corpse and had small scratch like tattoos over his body. Though one similarity the two had were the scars. Eddie had random lines across his ribs, and little circle like scars that looked like burnt marks. Steve, was scarred up pretty good from his last encounter with the upside down. A light scar on his cheek bone from where Billy had cracked a plate against along with the top of his head.

"I have no idea what I am doing!" Eddie yells back. Looking a tad annoyed, moving the back of his hands through his curls as he glares at the other with a huff. Now he looked like a very wet rat and if Steve could laugh he would. It was an amusing sight watching the self acclaimed metal head try to look intimidating like this. His eyes must flicker with a little bit of amusement, as the other begins to throw himself around a bit. Rolling his eyes as he moves sloshing his way out of the water. Struggling to walk with the water against his ankles. Working his way to the side of the pool as he curses. "You know what! Fuck this!" He grumbles out.

Steve feels bad, groaning as he runs a hand through his hair. That has yet to get soaked with their time being out here. Though it was just a tad damp from running wet fingers through it "Oh come on Munson, I didn't expect you to know what you are doing. I'm sure if I randomly showed up to your front step and asked you to teach me-" he pauses to think what the other could possibly teach him. The other seems to pause to look at him curiously. Shoulders tense. This was the moment that would decide whether or not Eddie would stick around to take these lessons. "Fuck- what's the name. Shit Dnd - dragons and dungeons or whatever the hell the name is. I'm sure you would laugh at a stupid jock trying to swim in your expertise." Steve rambles out a little. Moving his arms to cross over his chest. That was bare, freshly waxed the other day.

He's not sure whether his speech worked or not until the other groans. Grumbling a little bit, "I hate that you are right. Though it's Dungeons and Dragons." He complains moving to wade his way to a more shallow part. Moving closer to Steve in the process who was tilting his head as he snaps his fingers as the other says the name.

Sighing as he rubs the side of his face with a chuckle, "sorry you would think after listening to four kids rant about the game I would remember the order of the words." He says softly. Hoping he didn't offend the other, like he normally did Dustin and Mike whenever he said the name wrong. Though he's sure the kids thought he did it on purpose. He didn't. "Though, you do need more control over your limbs then what you got." He comments. Eyes not moving away from the others movement. Watches the other sit on the side of the pool, leaving his feet in the water.

"And, you need to get swim trunks that aren't white." A look of confusion flashes over the others face, seemingly not processing that he was wearing very see through boxers. Steve snorts as he shakes his head amused, "I've seen your balls more then I've seen your face dude." He teases as he moves getting out of the water. Figuring that they were done for the day. Pulling himself up from the side watching droplets of water fall on the cement from his trunks. Moving and tossing an extra towel towards the other, not bothering to grab his own knowing that he would be in the pool again.Watching the other toss the towel through his mane, giving him a second before he begins to wave his hand to get the other to follow him. Leading him to the shower area where he quickly shows him how to get the shower going before he was leaving the boy behind. Ignoring the way the other had gone silent all of a sudden, with a light blush over his face.

Steve on the other hand moves to the pool, right as the last of the guys were leaving. Closing the doors behind them. He sighs gently as he pops some of his tense bones before he's moving and gracefully diving in the water. Doing what he has been craving for over a hour. Just floating at the bottom of the pool and just letting everything drift away just for a few minutes. The stress of school, the stress of his father constantly on his shoulders and the anxiety of the Upside Down returning floating away along with the small bubbles of his breath let float up to the surface. Hair following a long with them as far as each strand could reach, before his lungs start to burn from the lack of oxygen and he's using his feet to push himself off from the bottom and gasping for air as he comes to the surface. Hair falling in front of his eyes as he moves swimming over to the pool side. Not as graceful as he normally would as he focuses on catching his breath. Distracted enough not to notice Eddie coming out with a towel wrapped around his waist in search of the clothes he had just left on ground.

Eddie didn't have much experience with water. He's of course gone swimming before, but that was when he was way younger and could get away with wearing ugly floaters around his arms and body; nor has he actually watched someone do said exercise. He thought he has seen Steve Harrington at his highest before his ultimate downfall. Like any tragic character in a Greek play. For once he was terribly wrong about the other boy. Steve Harrington flew under water with such Grace that it took his breathe away. Everything about the other was captivating, from the way his hair would be tossed back causing water droplets to fly through the air to the way his limbs would move as he just freely swims under the water before going to front strokes. Then a few normal laps before shifting to backstrokes.

Of all situations, Eddie never pictured himself staring star struck at Steve Harrington swimming while holding his pants and trying to run out of the door before he's caught ogling a jock. It would be a bit hypocritical of him to be caught staring at the forbidden fruit that he made sure to announce publicly numerous times he would never touch. He would not fall for such a sun, but as he lets the door click behind him holding his clothes tightly to his chest, wet boxers over his left arm and a towel tightly wrapped around his waist he was tempted. Felt like Adam and Eve as they were given the one thing god told them they weren't allowed to. Letting a shaky breath out he squeezes his eyes shut, trying to slow his racing heart and calm that overwhelming feeling flowing through his veins. The same feeling that made him do flappy hands, jump up on tables or make goofy faces at the lost sheep of Hawkins high.

He's not sure how long he stays like this, maybe five minutes maybe ten. When he finally moves he realizes he forgot his shoes inside. Not thinking he had the strength or will power to do such a task he does the walk of shame to his van. Face red as he throws himself in the back. Thankful that no one was around to witness his lowest of lows. Pulling his skinny jeans up around himself was a task, especially with wet skin and no underwear. Grunting he has to adjust himself numerous times before he was able to pull his shirt over his chest and slide himself between the two front seats. Getting in the drivers side of the car as he turns the ignition. Right as the schools doors open, revealing Steve Harrington holding both his raggedy pairs of shoes in the air. Trying to catch his attention, which Eddie promptly ignores as he pulls out of the parking lot. Only wanting to leave the school and the numerously dangerous thoughts behind him.

One thing that stayed consistent with Eddie Munson, was that he was a runner.

*****

The next day Steve had participated in practice, earning some pitiful glances as he does. Word had spread around the team that he was on babysitter duty in a sense. All of them would do anything to be on their coaches good side but none of them were insane enough to teach Eddie Munson of all people how to swim. In their minds that was a losing battle waiting to happen. If the guy was as good at swimming as he was graduating. Due to Eddie running off without talking to Steve first, neither of them had communicated about when their next lesson would be. That was definitely going to be a problem, and one that Steve would have to solve fast before he was forced to do suicides. After one day of not hearing from him, and two days after their first lesson Steve makes it his mission to find the other to schedule one and to return his shoes.

It to his surprise it wasn't all that difficult to find Eddie Munson in the mix of Hawkins High. Well known amongst the younger grades for jumping up on tables and going on with loud and hilarious speeches and known for his drugs by the older grades he was on everyone's radar. This meant that Steve only had to ask a handful of kids if they had seen him to be pointed to the library. Somewhere that Steve didn't go all that often. He wasn't much of a reader, the words normally blurred and he couldn't focus long enough to read a book let alone a paragraph. The didn't even read the books that were assigned in English class, most times he would just take notes from someone who was reading it and write half assed essays on that.

The library was a reserved area, that raised his anxiety more then any place in the school. Everyone was silent in here and could easily sneak up on him. Something he didn't particularly enjoy. Biting his tongue he forces himself across the line that separated the hall from the library and makes his way in. Giving a tight smile to the kind librarian behind the desk who welcomes him cheerfully, and proceeds to move down aisles of books in search of this guy. What made the whole situation even more awkward was the fact that he was currently holding Munson's shoes. That he somehow had forgotten. God only knows.

The first five aisles he has no luck, instead he finds a book that was on the floor off to the corner. Almost ignoring it he decides to move and take care of it. Picking the book up curiously as his eyebrows furrow in curiosity. A cats face was seen on the lower half, faded into the picture of a guy standing near a cross in the background. The sky was red along with the authors name. Squinting his eyes he rubs his eyes a bit as the font starts to move around on him, a problem that didn't start until his first concussion back in freshman year. He always felt a bit nauseous when he forces himself to try reading something, and this was no different. Groaning annoyed he rubs his eyes a bit more deciding that if he was making his stomach upset with the brief glance he was going to at least know the title of the book.

"Problems Harrington?" The familiar voice snaps him from his staring contest with the cover. Moving his head up blinking a bit feeling a tad dizzy as he watches Eddie's face go a bit blurry on him. He shakes his head no as he begins to feel light headed. Closer to throwing up then what he had been a few moments ago. He can't really see that great, as he chuckles offering the book up for the other. Mumbling a soft 'here' letting the other take it away from him.

"Aww is Pet Cemetery to scary for you big boy?" The guy teases playfully. Leaning a bit close to him, like it was something he was trying to keep between the two of them. Though Steve didn't care if anyone else heard him. He snorts just a little bit at the others joke as he shakes his head no fighting to focus his eyes a bit.

"No- that's seriously the title?" He asks distracted looking down at the cover again trying to see if the words would form together now that he knew what they said. But still he was unable to read it out, even in Eddie's hand.

"Yeah... can you not read Harrington?" Eddie snorts as he moves to slide it back into a empty space between 'Carrie' and 'the shining' there is nothing malicious coming from his tone but he was obviously picking at some jock stereotype. Even though Steve had no desire to read nor did he ever have any enjoyment from the activity the joke still stung a bit. Rolling his eyes he moves the others shoes out for the other to take from him.

"So? You can't even swim Munson, the thing babies can do I don't want to hear it from you." He says a tad bitterly. Watching the way the other turns a little stunned. Eddies face scrunches up in a way of remorse as he takes his shoes back from the other. Currently wearing his Uncles boots that were two sizes to big. He opens his mouth a little as he pauses to think before he spoke. Something that was rare for him.

"Seriously? You don't know how to read?" He whispers to him with wide eyes. Once again he isn't asking to be mean, just out of shock and curiosity. How did the other past his drivers exam if you didn't know how to read?

Steve snorts, "I know how to read, Munson." Shaking his head as he glances down at the others footwear out of curiosity.

"Well then you can read?" Eddie is confused trying to piece the puzzle together.

"No, I can not." Steve says slowly, as if it was common sense. "The words they uh... well they don't sit still on the page when I'm looking down. One of the side effects of having four concussions." He's shy as he explains it but comes off a bit more bitter towards the end. Not enjoying the concussions. He doesn't enjoy the attention on his flaw as he quickly tries to change the subject. "Though, I'm not naming names, but someone sprinted out of the school without their shoes yesterday before we could decide on the next lesson?" Steve raises a eyebrow.

Eddie doesn't catch on to the social cue and was to distracted by the new information that he was receiving. "Holy shit? Four concussions? Do images do the same thing when you are looking at them? Like move around like animation and shit?" He asks innocently wide eyed as he moves to lean against the book shelf leaving his arms crossed, one of his fingers staying hooked into the shoes. Startled as the shelf he tries leaning against moves a little bit. Causing Steve to let a soft chuckle out, distracted by the others clumsiness to be annoyed by the other not dropping the topic he would much rather avoid. Eddie quickly moves to stand back up, figuring that it wouldn't be a good idea to lean against the unstable shelf. "Well good, because no one has evidence that I- er I mean someone? Ran out yesterday evening without their shoes on." Eddie says determinedly as he lets his head lean back a little. Sucking in his lip in a little, the only way Steve could describe him was that he looked like a frog making that facial expression.

"First off, no. I don't have my own personal Walt Disney up there drawing every frame to let the images move in my vision." He shakes his head as he drags a hand through his hair. Trying to be annoyed but that question brought more entertainment to this meeting then anything else. Distracting him from the fact that anything could creep up on them and he wouldn't have seen it coming. "Oh? Well why would I lie about such a thing Munson?" Steve teases curiously. Moving to lean himself against the other book frame. Only because he wanted to mess with the other. He crosses his arms a bit tighter around himself as the shelf doesn't shake and stays put. Smirking as he doesn't think about the space in-between them lacking inches.

"Damn it." Eddie curses. Acting as if that was the worst news he's ever heard, snapping the fingers from his free hand lousy as he comically swings the same around to the left in the same motion. "Here I thought you were a freak like me." He jokes with a huge grin on his face. Before huffing about to respond when the bell rings. Bringing both of them back to reality as Steve glances up at the bell before looking back at the other. All conversation dying between the two of them as the subject changes back to what it was originally intended to be.

"So? When did you want our next lesson?" Steve asks as he moves himself off from the frame and looks at the other with a slightly impatient look. Anxious about being late to practice.

"Hm- tomorrow. After school at four work for you?" Eddie asks. Earning a quick nod before Steve is quickly moving to leave. Not saying much more as he leaves a confused metal head behind him.

****

Four Ten sharp is when Eddie meets Steve near the pool. Late and annoyed as he starts to peel his clothes off in preparation of getting into the pool. Tired, and ready to go home for a nap Eddie was grumpy and a tad cranky. Steve quickly catches onto the others mood shift compared to the day before and was quick to accommodate for the other. Not forcing him to go outside, but stay inside where he helps him into the shallow end. Forcing him to let the water up to his chest to get used to the feeling so when he did go into the deep end it didn't freak him out. Steve had attempted to look up ways to teach someone how to swim, but with the shifting words didn't get that far. Total shocker right? Though the diagrams that were drawn over the papers did give him a slight understanding and they seemed to help with the other a lot more.

Eddie was also a lot less energetic, which meant that his limbs weren't flying all over the place. Causing water to go all over, and into Steve's eyes. Today was a lot more productive in a sense, but when Steve remembers the next step he is a bit hesitant. The other, like a piranha almost senses the others hesitation like it was blood in the water. "What?" He asks tightly and very much sour. Eyes squinting at the other as he expects something. Unsure of what, knew that whatever the other had planned was not a good idea.

"Well, it would help if you got used to not having your feet on the floor all the time." Steve draws off for a second as he adds. "And most times when someone's teaching someone how to swim they normally help the other up above water as they practice kicking." Steve explains as the other just listens. Jaw tense as he glares at the other. Even though Eddie was hearing the others words he wasn't really processing what the other was implying.

"Ok-" Eddie drags out for a second. "And?" He asks raising his eyebrow in a way that makes Steve get anxious and awkward about tossing this idea out there. Silence falls over the both of them, with the acceptation of the water filter going. Echoing and bouncing louder against the walls.

"Well, I was thinking that I help you get a hang of it. By picking you up a little and letting you kick and float without touching the ground." Steve explains shyly. Face a bit pink as he steps in the water a bit awkward. Eddie stares at him for a second before he breaks out into laughter.

"Oh, you've got to be fucking with me Harrington. That's the funniest thing I've heard all day," he snorts as his head throws itself back. As if he had his own gravitational force that Steve wasn't aware of. For a split second he forgets to feel embarrassed of annoyed by the others words. Rolling his eyes as he crosses his arms a bit as he glares at the other.

"Well they normally do this with five year olds, but someone is kind of a late bloomer you know?" Steve sasses back. Watches the way the others smile breaks. Shoulders tense up as he's about to give Steve a piece of his mind. But Steve quickly stops him, not in the mood for an argument. "Dude, it was just a idea. I wasn't going to do it without your permission. Besides it's not often I teach nineteen year olds how to swim, typically it's five year olds at the YMCA, where it's a lot more flexible with lessons. I want to get this done and over with just as much as you, so for the love of god don't break out into a speech that will cause my ears to bleed from annoyance." He rambles out quickly. Making sure not to give the other room for interrupting him. Eddie doesn't, just stands in his place. Water floating above his boxers and below his belly button as he stays still. Not tempted to go any deeper yet. He has but it wasn't something he was willing to do with Steve being next to him.

"Fine." Eddie grumbles as he moves sloshing the water around as he moves back a bit. Going a bit deeper but staying where he can touch as he turns back around to glare at the other. "I bet this won't even work." He sasses, cocking his head in a way that annoyed Steve a bit.

Steve doesn't hesitate to pick up on this. "Ok, I bet if it does work that you have to show up to one of my competitions."  He says with a raised eyebrow. Assuming the other would want to back track on his word. To his surprise the other doesn't hesitate as he grins. Face brightening as his wet curls fall in front of his eyes.

"And if it doesn't work, you have to-" Eddie pauses as he tries to think about what the other should do. Hesitating as he shifts his weight onto his other leg. "Dress up like a freak for a week Harrington." He grins mischievously. Steve snorts a little at the request as he moves a bit closer watching the others confidence dwindle a bit.

"Well then, let's get to it." Steve says clapping his hands a little. Preparing for everything to happen and nothing at all. It was Eddie he was talking about. Something that was easy for a three year to do possibly could be the hardest thing the other has ever done.

Eddies face is a light red as he starts to grow awkward. Limbs tensing and locking up as he stands in his spot trying to cower into himself. Steve shakes his head amused at the other as he pats the others shoulder playfully. The warmth contact was causing Eddie to lose just a few more brain cells. Stuttering over his words as Steve starts to manhandle him to a deeper spot of the water. Where only the other could barely touch, just with his toes. Not only was Eddie's anxiety raising about not being able to touch the bottom his heart was racing. The smell of chlorine was now much closer to his face, with the water being up to his chin now. Turning his head he gives in and tries to trust Steve who has only been saying assuring things. Not trying push the other to far Steve stays close with the other.

His hand moves down to the dip of Eddie's waist and that's when he loses it. Eddie quickly splashes over to a bit of a shallow part, where the water was below his chest so that he could breathe. His lungs were working fast as he attempts to catch his breath, heart pounding so hard he could hear it in his ears. Steve was by his side in seconds as he carefully places a hand on the others back and gently rubs some of the tension away. Once again Eddie felt like he was standing under the tree, with the forbidden fruit right above his face close to his nose. Scratch that, he felt like Isaac Newton purposely dropped this apple on his god damn head. Leaving a huge bump behind that made his head spin and question everything he knew. Because there was this gravitational pull towards Steve that Eddie seemed to really like. Problem was, a bit too much. There was something about the boy that was once again sending butterflies to his stomach.

It takes a few minutes for him to calm down, curls damp and swinging all over. Overwhelming him a bit as he fights with his curls a bit. Steve snaps his fingers in excitement confusing Eddie even more. Standing put as he watches the other throw himself out of the pool and return with a hair tie. That was tightly wrapped around his wrist as he hops back down and pulls it off to give to the other boy. For the few seconds that it was on his skin it left a small indent that caught Eddie's attention. Forcing him to look at the numerous freckles that scattered his skin. Thinking about how he could kiss one and find another within a inch a way. Shaking his head a little at the thought he takes the hair tie confused. Looking at Steve in a questioning way, unsure what he was supposed to do.

Steve snorts at the others reaction as he moves forward carefully and takes the band back as he moves around the other. Carefully holding the others curls and pulling it up just as lightly. Accidentally tugging at his scalp in the process as Eddie jokes. "Careful Harrington, I might just like that." His tone his playful, the words slipping from his mouth before he could think. He doesn't catch the way the other stares dumbly at the other, his mouth falling open in confusion. Eyes scrunching up just the same.

"Why would you like your hair being pulled?" Steve asks in confusion. Tilting his head to the side so he could glance at the others face. Eddies face once again goes a light pink as he realizes the joke went over the others head.

"Aw are you vanilla big boy?" He teases hoping to get the other to understand what he was saying. The joke must have gone over Steve's head flying a couple of miles before returning and slapping him upside the head. Relocation hits the jock as his face grows red.

"Um? Yeah?" He says awkwardly. Laughing some how even more awkwardly. Eddie just wants to slap himself in the face. Realizing the joke didn't land like he had hoped. Instead the idea that Steve was gentle in bed had been planted into his head and the idea was bouncing over different sides of his brain. God, he's sure he has a devil on one shoulder and a Angel on the other right now. Whispering different things in his ear as Steve's hands are in his curls pulling it up before stepping back. Creating a distance between the two as he inspects his handy work. "Alright that should hold for now." He says softly. The question of why Steve had hair ties on him, when no one else he knew had long hair was left unsaid.

"Let's try a more shallow part hm?" Steve smiles kindly. Never making Eddie feel stupid about the irrational fear. He doesn't want to argue or make the other upset so he follows again. As much as he just wanted to curl up in the corner and have a panic attack. He moves as Steve once again attempts to get him to relax. Eddie does, but his limbs tense up again as Steve helps him get into a position to help him swim. Which ends up with Eddie moving to his knees, skin scraping against pool floor as he wills himself not to get a boner. God that would be one of the most embarrassing things to ever happen. Though he's sure it wouldn't be much of one with the cold water.

He doesn't allow himself to look up at the other, knowing that would tempt him to make numerous jokes. Instead he follows every word the other says. Treating each one like it was from the gospel until he finds himself being pushed a little deeper in the water once he realizes it's not that bad. They are still in a shallow part as Steve moves down to his own knees sitting right next to him. Demonstrating the way to move his arms, the way to kick his legs before he's moving and he has two arms underneath Eddie. Helping him with guidance as Eddie starts to sloppily move in the water. For a second Eddie thinks he's won the bet, until something clicks and he's swimming a lot better then what he was. He doesn't realize that he no longer has the other next to him until he's on the side of the pool. Excitement fills him as he bounces up and down like a toddler.

"Oh my god I did it!" His voice scratches a bit as he jumps up and down bouncing more like he was in a bouncy cheer. Smiling brightly as his hair falls from the condiment the other put it in. Steve has a soft smile on his face as he shakes his head amused, moving to stand next to the other happily. Before the realization hits Eddie that the other was not next to him the entire time. "Oh my god, I could have died." He panics gripping onto the side of the pool like he wasn't currently touching the pool floor.

Steve rolls his eyes playfully as he laughs, "Eddie you were fine. Besides you can still touch the bottom. If you drowned that would've been the most dumbest thing I have ever seen in my life." He teases. Eddie glares at him as he opens his mouth to argue but Steve is interrupting him. "Besides, you lost the bet. Which means you, will be going to my competition tomorrow." He grins mischievously. Looking smug as he watches the other. Eddies words die on his tongue as he realizes the consequences to his actions.

His poor heart was not going to be able to handle this.

****

Shockingly there was not much of a crowd for this competition. Seemed like all the sports enthusiasts were more excited about football then swimming. Though the crowd was a decent sized, big enough to where Eddie could somehow blend in with them. Not looking out of place sitting by himself off to the corner, though he still wasn't completely fitting in with his awkward stance. Legs spread out a bit as he leans forward, copying the movement he's seen his Uncle do whenever he watches a football game. The holes over his knees were starting to rip more and his thighs ached a little from this stance so he soon gives up as he starts to fidget anxiously. He doesn't know what to expect but he doesn't want Steve to think that he doesn't care? Just because he was only here for a bet doesn't mean he didn't care.

Well he really shouldn't care about this swim competition as much as he did. It went against every single moral he's ever formed within the last few years of high-school. But yet here he was. Eddie Munson sitting in all his glory excitedly waiting to watch Steve grace this audience with the way he gracefully moved in the water. He already caught a few kids randomly placed around the room whispering together as they point at him. Not being discreet, raising his anxiety more. Causing his hands to shake and fidget between his thighs. Moving his numerous rings around his fingers as he stares a hole into the water. Time passes by slowly, and when the swim teams start to walk out he wishes that time would move faster so that he could see the guy he was here for.

Every single guy had a rubber cap on to hold their hair in place, no hair on their bodies, and very tight speedos that didn't leave any imagination for any of them. Thing was, steve had never worn any speedo when they were swimming together. He normally wore a ugly pair of swim trunks and left his hair out. It was probably breaking all sort of rules but it didn't seem like he cared. So it was a cultural shock when his eyes finally land on the guy. He was a bit more pudgier then the rest of the guys which meant easier identification on Eddie's part. Though like the others he looked like he had recently shaved his body. Little chest hairs had been poking out across his skin the last time Eddie had seen him. Now as he stands up excitedly smiling brightly at Steve who looks shocked to see him, he realizes that no one was whistling or yelling out for Steve. Turning his head confused he looks through the crowd and quickly catches onto the fact that he was the one and only person in the Harrington cheer squad.

Deciding to take that with pride, he was already here why not embarrass himself a bit more as he brings his fingers up to his mouth and whistles louder then everyone else. Heads turning towards him as he does. Even the whole swim team was looking at him as he hops up on a step like he was giving a speech during lunch. "Kick some ass Harrington!" He doesn't have to yell. His voice is loud and cuts through everyone else's as it echos through the room. He hears a couple of parents yell at him for cursing in front of their precious kin, but he was sure they've heard far worst. A older referee came over and scolding him as well, giving him a warning. Though it was all worth it to watch Steve brighten up. Smiling shyly and growing awkward as the guys on the team tease him about the freak being his cheerleader. Though Steve doesn't care, it was one more person cheering for him then the last fifty competitions he's been to. He would rather take one then none.

Beaming as if the sun was shining out of his ass he waves at Eddie playfully winking before his attention is being forced back to the water. Getting situated in a line as the rules were explained. He stretches his limbs a bit, unaware that he was causing Eddie to have a full blown crisis from behind him. The metal head had been to busy putting up a show to pay attention to what the other was wearing. Now nothing was distracting him from the skin tight black speedo. That did not leave much imagination to the others ass. Eddie was sure if he stared long enough he could see every freckle or dimple on the guys ass and that was going to be a huge problem. Barely able to breathe everything happens so fast. One second Steve is standing dry off to the side and the next he was in the water. Moving ahead of most of the other guys currently in the water. Limbs moving a lot faster then what they normally did when he was with Eddie.

Sure, Eddie's been next to the other numerous times in the water but he had been to busy trying not to die to notice the way the others muscles would flex. The way the water droplets would fall down his skin as he moved, the glossy way his lips looked as he gasped for air. Eddie was not having any clean thoughts as he watched the boy swim. There were numerous other guys he could be staring at right now. Those who were more his type, but instead here he was eye fucking Steve Harrington as he swam like his life depended on it. He's letting out a distressed whine when it's all over and he doesn't understand what's happening. People are up and clapping and he's awkwardly copying what they were doing. Standing up and glancing over at other family's to make sure he was doing this right. Clapping before he's whistling not so loudly as he moves over to a mother who was holding a toddler up.

It's a bit loud as he asks gently, "sorry to bother you, but I don't understand a thing about swim competitions what happened?" He asks. Face a light pink as he keeps clapping his hands. Watching the way the toddler in her arms smiles waving at him. He returns the gesture as the woman hesitates for a second. Surprised that he was asking her of all people. She was young, way to young to be a mother but Eddie didn't really care. Now that he was paying attention he seen the way other mothers were moving their children away from her like they had been for him. She smiles shyly as she shifts the kid to her other hip.

"Well, I don't understand all that much either but the guy you were cheering for got second place." She smiles kindly as Eddie nods giving her a thumbs up.

"Thank you m'aam. This will save me a lot of time." He grins cheerfully as he moves starting to hop down the bleachers. Careful not to slip on the floor that was soaked with water. Moving excitedly to wait near the room Steve would be coming out of. He fidgets with the chains that were constantly clicking around as he watches numerous guys coming out. Until it's finally the person he came for.

Steve's hair was a bit of a mess, damp but very attractive. A tighter polo was on with a pair of loose sweatpants. They didn't really go together but Eddie wasn't going to point that out as he pushes himself off the wall that he was waiting on. Walking right next to the other as he grins.

"So- that was impressive." He beams moving into the others space playfully bumping his shoulder. Steve looks at him with a soft smile growing shy and awkward under the others praise.

"Oh? And what could Eddie Munson, this biggest hater of sports possibly like about my swim competition?" He teases playfully. Moving away from the other for a split second before giving in and letting the other into his space. Running a hand through his hair as he grows nervous under the attention the other was giving him, and the confusion. Unsure if the other was fucking with him or actually enjoyed the competition. Though he regrets even questioning the others reasoning as the other shamelessly becomes more dramatic. Moving his limbs with purpose as he pretends to be in distress.

"Oh Steve Harrington, where should I possibly begin. Oh! The rubber was such an etiquette fashion statement that struck me to the core. The way the water moved down your hairless body had my knees ah shaking and my loins ah screaming. My dreams will be blessed for years and my children will know of this day that changed my life forever. My first born child shall be named after -" Eddies rambling as Steve's face grows red. Quickly he shoves the other playfully to interrupt his speech before fighting back the slight laughter from the fake southern accent. It was embarrassing to listen to the other but it was hilarious.

"Oh shut up you," he returns in a equally horrible southern accent. Grinning as Eddie smiled shyly at him. Moving his hair in front of his face as he does. His mouth had been moving before he could think and he was happy to know that Steve wouldn't hit him the second he came off a bit more gay then normal. But once again that gravitational pull towards Steve made his brain orbit around space, with no thought behind his eye. Which also meant he wasn't thinking of the deadly consequences that could appear from his shameless flirting. Though he was willing to be the Icarus to Steve's sun if that meant he could see the others shy smile as goofy side.

Eddies letting soft laughter go as he shrugs bashfully. Moving a curl behind his ear as they walk out of the school. A silence had fallen between them, it wasn't awkward but rather pleasant. Made Eddie's stomach do flips and made Steve confused. The feeling of something blossoming in Steve Harrington's veins was concerning, and he felt like it was a drug he couldn't kick. The withdrawals from his last love had just kicked and now here he walked with a new craving. A new addiction forming as he walked next to Eddie Munson.

Eddie Munson might just become his new bag of cocaine. Hyper and euphoric which would only ruin his heart with long term use. The scary part was Steve couldn't place a name behind the feeling he was having, and like any other addict denial was his first step to realization.

***

With graduation coming up and Steve’s hope of going off to college soon they started to meet a little more frequently for lessons. By this point Eddie was finally able to swim by himself. Not as afraid to be in the deep end they had been able to relax a bit and work on his strength in the water. The lessons went from mandatory to optional and Steve was more then willing to keep taking time for the other. Every day had been filled with flirting and laughs. Shoving each other in the pool and just being boys.

Today on the other hand was different. Steve didn’t really feel like swimming, and if he did he would much rather sit at the bottom of the pool and drown. He had gotten the response papers from every college he applied to and was denied at every single one. Which was some how a record, as every one he knew got denied numerous times but were accepted happily by a community college. Even those didn’t want him. His father had forced him to apply to all of the bigger schools that by times he applied for the community ones they had been filled up already. Now he wasn’t going anywhere but straight to work.

Over the time he’s taught Eddie, the other has been able to read his body language. The way Steve’s shoulders tensed up and the way he sulked walking out of the locker rooms with his trunks and a shirt on said a lot. Steve was a confident guy and never wore a shirt, today the confidence was lackluster at most and Eddie was concerned for him. For someone he dare say be classified as a friend? He smiles gently as he moves to the other catching onto the others reluctance of going into the pool.

“Everything okay Harrington?” Eddie asks curiously. Recognizing that the other got like this sometimes, but normally he would be a little jumpy and anxious. Watching their surroundings. This time he seemed only upset and lost in his head. A quality trait Steve wasn’t known for.

“Yeah- just got denied from every single college I applied for.” He snorts bitterly as he moves to sit on the side of the pool to put his feet in the cold water. Not even that was bringing him much joy. Eddie felt like he was being punched in the gut. He was equally or even more upset then the other because he was upset. If silly, goofy and dopey Steve Harrington was down and gloomy then there was no hope for the rest of the world. The sun mind as well set and the rain clouds should start to form to create a horrible storm. Eddie doesn’t know what to say as he stands there stunned. Out of everyone he would have thought Steve would be the one to leave Hawkins the fastest. Obviously not wanting to be tied down and wanting to travel.

“Oh Stevie,” he says gently. The nickname slipping for the first time as he sits next to the other. Placing a hand on the others shoulder for comfort. Ignoring the way the other grows a bit awkward and tense from the physical contact, obviously not used to it before he’s relaxing. None of the words he wanted to say were coming out. Even if he was able to say them, they would’ve been to intimate for two guys to say to each other. Melting into himself he moves a little closer offering as much as he can. Before he pauses and thinks. “Well let’s get out of here, have you ever smoked before Harrington?” He asks gently.

Steve turns his head at the other with a snort, “We’ve smoked numerous times together Munson.” He says bitterly. Eddie doesn’t take it to heart knowing that there wasn’t any thing mean targeted towards him. Though Eddie grins a mischievous look that causes Steve to melt and forget his troubles just for a split second.

“No Harrington, my dear friend those are cigarettes. I was talking about the sweet leaf, the magnum opus of all natures, the prettiest girl I’ve ever met- Mary Jane, Steve. Have you ever smoked pot?” Eddie asks gently. Watching realization hit the other. Moving his head to stare dumbly at Eddie. Nodding his head after a moment.

“Yeah with Tommy, why-” before he can ask to many questions Eddie is pushing himself up and making a attempt to pull the other up. Grunting as he gives up once he realizes the other was to heavy for him to move.

“Jesus, do you eat Rocks Harrington? Come on? I’ll take you back to mine and smoke you out. You look like you need a smoke.” He laughs gently as he watches Steve hesitate. Before standing up and following instructions. It might have gone to Eddie’s head a little bit with the Jock following and hanging on every instruction he told him. Steve returns a few minutes later and then they are walking out of the school. Steve going to his own car to follow Eddie. Who was absolute chaos when on the road.

Eddies hair was still hanging up in a small bun, something he had prepared for swimming but now it was just up to be up. Enjoying the slight breathe on the back of neck as he hops out of his van. Watching Steve park next to him before waving at him to follow along. Steve had never gone to the Munson residence but it was how he imagined it. It wasn’t that difficult to imagine how Eddie’s room would like either as he was lead there. Not giving much time to take in the rest of the trailer. Steve just follows along feeling a bit like a Zombie.

Moving he sits hesitantly on the others bed as he just listens to the other talk. That was enough to brighten his mood a little. Eddie was like his personal antidepressant right now and he was so grateful. Laughing gently at a joke before he’s handed the joint. That was neatly wrapped and ready. He moves inhaling and releasing the smoke, coughing a bit as it had been a while since he’s properly smoked pot. Handing the thing back to Eddie he lets the other talk his head off. Joking about how Coach Winchester talked to how some of the teachers walked. All of it was goofy and exactly what Steve was looking for. Time started to pass by slowly and the only thing Steve could see was Eddie Munson sitting right in front of him. Glowing, and smiling brightly as his hands waved around like he was orchestrating a orchestra. At some point the giggles start to happen and the two are just making fun of each other. Not in a malicious way.

Huddling closer together as smoke swarmed around them. Making everything blurred together as they either stared at the ceiling or at each other while talking. They both felt like they were finally apart of the solar system that they had been orbiting around for weeks now and it was glorious. Eddies knuckles were constantly brushing up against the others side, and moving up his arm as he talks. Causing goosebumps to form up Steve’s body and shivers to take habitat in his spine. Steve was giggling and laughing at everything as he could barely keep his eyes open for to long anymore.

It’s probably around midnight when the laughter dies down and it turns a bit serious. “Steve?” Eddie says softly.

“Yeah?” He asks gently. Turning his head towards the other but not opening his eyes. That would take to much effort and Eddie found it adorable. With this distance he could see every detail of the others face and he makes a promise to himself that before he dies he was going to paint the others face. Whether it be on a canvas just for him or on a huge wall for the whole world to see exactly what he was seeing. The perfect imperfections of Steve Harrington.

“You have next year you know?” Eddie says gently.

“For what?” Steve asks confused. Forgetting about the reason why he came here in the first place.

“For what?” He asks curiously. Humming as he moves his body a bit to get comfortable on the others bed.

“To well- you know? Apply for college?” Eddie says softly. “If I can repeat senior year for the third time I believe you can make it to a college somewhere.” He breathes out. Breath smelling like weed that hits Steve’s face. Who doesn’t react as he opens his eyes meeting the others eyes. A tension falling in the air. So thick that Eddie thinks he could cut a knife through it. Create a donut like Scooby Doo did in that one episode on the ghost ship. Then the seriousness is all gone as he begins to giggle and laugh, bringing up Scooby Doo seemingly out of nowhere.

****

Just like any star that aligned, they slowly depart from each other. That’s the only way the two boys could describe it. They were close and then slowly drifting apart at sea. Neither of them had seen it coming until it was their last swim lesson. The ache in both of their chests heavy. Eddie knew the reason behind his while Steve felt like a confused child trying to figure it out. Here he sat naive to his and Eddie’s feelings. Both of them growing awkward as they both accepted they wouldn’t see each other anymore. Steve would be going off to work and Eddie would be returning to high-school again next year. Which is exactly how it happens. Eddies unspoken crush starts to blossom more, before withering away. Passing scoops ahoy on purpose, trying to gather courage to walk in and talk to the other. But that was a suicidal mission he quickly discovered.

The uniform Steve Harrington was now wearing had much more cloth then the swim uniform he wore but it still brought an embarrassing reaction out of Eddie who would sneak by to steal glances. Noticing the slight chest hair popping out from the top to the way his shorts made his ass look. Every time he would gather courage to go in and talk, there was always a group of girls talking to Steve Harrington. Who was obviously flirting with them shamelessly.

What was once a gravitational pull became a repellent that Eddie wasn’t sure he could ever be able to push through. And what his great mentor Ozzy had said had come true. Something he was sure him and Steve could prove wrong, even if it meant they were only friends for the rest of their life’s.

Nothing lasts forever

[forestmossling]

reporter @ an accomplished rockstar!eddie’s boyfriend, steve harrington, a middle-school teacher in a dorky sweater vest: how does it feel dating somebody who’s waaay out of your league?

eddie, pushing himself in front of the camera: amazing, i never thought i’d be this happy

inspired by @singswan-springswan’s meme

[kennahjune]

the moment mike accepted steve into the party

he didn’t get it. what was so good about steve harrington?

yeah, he was good looking and strong. but other than that? nothing. in mike’s eyes, he was still the asshole rando that dated his sister. and he didn’t plan on that changing.

until march of 1985.

mike had been held back after class for falling asleep. it wasn’t his fault. he couldn’t ever sleep unless someone else was with him. and there was no way in hell he was gonna cuddle with nancy. besides, he was good at the class— so no need to pay attention really.

at least miss noelle didn’t call his mom.

dustin, lucas, and will were waiting for him in the hall. oh, and max, cause she was actually kind of cool.

“what was up with miss noelle?” lucas asked as they walked down the hall.

“pissed i fell asleep in class,” mike said dejectedly. max snorted from beside him.

“maybe just don’t fall asleep?” she asked rhetorically.

mike huffed and flipped her off. “you sound like my dad.”

dustin shuddered from his other side. “ew. not cool man.”

mike rolled his eyes. “it’s true! my dads always like ‘just don’t this’ and ‘just don’t do that’ instead of actually helping! It’s so annoying.”

will came up and bumped arms with him while they finally left the school. classes were done and they were finally left to do what they wanted.

“uh oh.” came from lucas. mike sighed, catching sight of what— or who— lucas was “uh oh-ing” about.

“just don’t look at them,” max said under her breath while she averted her eyes to the ground.

“that never works,” retorted lucas.

“you have any better ideas? just keep walking.”

great. the one day nancy or jonathan aren’t picking them up and they run into noah and joey.

in 1983, el had gotten troy and james to back off— even scaring them into moving. but el’s not here right now, so she can’t help with noah and joey— the party’s most recent tormentors.

will stepped closer to mike and mike nudged his hand with his. everyone pulled in closer to each other in hopes of concealing themselves and the others. of course, it didn’t work.

“hey hey! look man, it’s the circus!” mike saw noah nudge joey beside him.

“shit,” dustin cursed.

and ‘shit’ was right. no one wanted to deal with noah and joey. especially with the mood mike was currently in after being held up.

“seriously what hell is it, tanner?” mike addressed noah directly.

joey whistled lowly and took a sharp step forward. will and dustin both flinched pretty hard. max gave a twitch but lucas and mike held their ground for the most part. noah and joey got a kick laughing at dustin and will.

“awwww they’re scared, joey! like a bunch of babies!”

mike forgot how stupid kids sound most of the time. they could call him a baby all they wanted— nothing will ever compare to watching will get possessed and then watching bob die.

mike still reached out and grabbed someone’s hand. he thinks it was lucas’.

joey and noah were both a good bit taller than mike, which meant they were also a good bit taller than everyone else in the party. they liked to use their height to their advantage but mike had dealt with monsters twice his height. it wasn’t scary, just annoying at this point.

still didn’t help the fact that they didn’t want to deal with this.

mike had zoned out, because next thing he knew he was being shoved to the ground. it probably wouldn’t have hurt too bad if they weren’t outside in the parking lot. mike felt his chin bust on the pavement in a sickening repeat of ‘83 with troy and james.

will was there in a second with dustin, helping him up off the ground and dusting him off. dustin held his hands while Will held his face, frantic over the now gushing blood that he could feel running down his neck. he was trembling. why was he trembling?

he faintly heard yelling and assumed lucas and max were arguing with joey and noah.

“just fuck off, murphy!” he heard max yell at joey. “we’ve literally done nothing to either of you and yet you make us hate our fucking lives!”

“aww, noah, she thinks we actually care! isn’t that cute?”

mike stood up with the help up dustin and will. but that only served to turn noah and joey’s attention onto him. well. better on him than on max.

“so whatcha gonna do, wheeler? gonna push me like troy? gonna wimp out and go cry to mommy and daddy?”

mike actually considered pushing joey. but that’d probably just make thing worse. if el hadn’t been there last year to save his ass from troy mike would’ve gotten pummeled.

but it was a serious option he considered.

dustin stepped in front of mike and shoved joey back. mike didn’t even realize how close he’d gotten. wow. he was really out of it today, huh?

“back off murphy.”

mike wanted to hug dustin, but at the same time he wanted to smack him upside the head for putting himself in the way. it’s easier when they target mike. just let them target him. he doesn’t care at this point.

dustin stayed arguing with joey and stopped only when there were multiple shouts from max, will and lucas.

noah had pulled max’s hair and in return was shoved to the ground by lucas. but noah had taken will down with him and now will struggled with lucas and max to get noah off.

mike saw red, and in a moments notice had noah off of will and on the ground. he was vaguely aware of dustin and max cheering him on with dustin and will watching.

it didn’t last very long until noah shoved mike hard enough that he fell backwards and busted his head on the ground. again.

at this point he was working himself towards a concussion. just like steve, he thought deliriously. and speak of the devil.

“aye!”

mike, dustin, lucas, will, and max all looked up, startled by the familiar voice and claps.

“what the fuck are you shits doing, huh?”

steve fucking harrington was suddenly right next to mike on the ground, kneeling and helping him sit up.

“shit, you ok mike? that’s a nasty scrape you got there. i have bandaids in the car, let’s go get you one, yeah?”

mike just nodded. he really wanted to know what the fuck steve was doing there and why he seemed to intent on helping.

“who the fuck are you?”

steve stood with mike halfway to the car, the rest of the group following, mike noticed. joey and noah stood idly in the parking lot, seeming put out by steve’s sudden appearance.

steve’s eye twitched and mike watched him bite the inside of his cheek. mike watched in real time as steve recognized joey and noah and seemed to piece together exactly what happened. he scoffed. not what mike was expecting.

steve gently nudged mike towards the car and knocked his knuckles on dustin’s hat. “you kids go get in the car. max you can toss your board in the trunk.”

dustin seemed to want to protest but even he could see how pissed steve was. even max was keeping quiet. lucas and will were quick to follow instructions and headed to the car. mike was right behind them.

lucas tried the back door (knowing mike got shotgun for the bandaids and possible concussion) but the handle only wiggled. “locked.”

“did he give one of you the keys?” asked will.

they all shook their heads. they didn’t have to wait long until steve was back with them at the car.

“why aren’t you guys in the car yet?”

“locked.” informed will.

“ohhhh. oops.” steve unlocked the car and helped max put her skate board in the trunk. when he hopped into the drivers side dustin and lucas were hounding him with questions.

“why are you here?”

“I thought we were walking home?”

“what the hell was that?”

“what did you do to noah and joey?”

“settle down and shut up, would you? nancy mentioned you guys were walking home so I came to grab you. you’d think that after everything they’d be a little more cautious. and also, language, henderson. I am so not taking the blame when you end up slipping in front of your mom.”

“awww you were worried steve.” max teased.

steve scoffed. “‘course I was, red. and it turned out I had every right to be. anybody wanna explain what that was?”

suddenly the car was quiet.

steve clicked his tongue.

“fine. guess you’re all coming to my house, huh?”

there was a sudden uproar in questions and “what the hell?”s.

“listen! i’m not letting any of you shits go home until I one; know for sure mike doesn’t have a concussion—“ steve eyed mike and he felt himself flinch. “—and two; before I get the whole story.”

there was a bunch of grumbling from the backseat, but mike himself stayed quiet throughout the rest of the ride.

“oh! and mike—“ mike looked at steve briefly and barely caught the box of tissues tossed at him. “—put that on the scrape for now, yeah? I’ll clean it properly when we get to the house.”

mike nodded and held a wad of tissues to his chin.

when they pulled up to the harrington house, everyone was inside quickly. everyone went to use the phone in the living room to call their parents and when mike went to follow he was grabbed gently on the shoulder.

“can you head to the kitchen and grab out the med-kit? I need to make sure they don’t drive my bill up.”

mike knew it was meant to be used as a distraction. but he’d take it. so he headed to the kitchen before realizing he didn’t know where the med-kit was. he rifled around in the cabinets for a bit before finding it stored away under the sink.

mike pulled it out and waited at the kitchen island. he noticed that it was a pretty heavy kit. and it seemed to be used a lot judging by the lack of dust and how it had a couple of bandages peeking from the crease.

everyone piled into the kitchen, book bags dumped in the living room and shoes discarded by the door. will sat on a stool next to mike and dustin and max hopped on the counter. lucas took a seat on the other side of mike.

“ooookay. ah! there it is.” steve opened the kit and grabbed out a brown bottle and a few cotton balls. mike noted how he seemed to know where everything in the med-kit was as if he used it on a daily. he filed the information away for later.

“what’s that supposed to be?” mike eyed the bottle with weariness.

“just peroxide. it’s meant to clean the cut. I know for a fact that that parking lot is fucking filthy and I’m not risking an infection due to gunk in the wound.”

steve put a cotton ball to the open top of the bottle and tipped the bottle over. “i’m not going to lie and say it doesn’t hurt, cause it does sting a bit. but it also definitely helps in the long run.” steve held up the cotton ball as if in question.

mike nodded and looked up, giving steve more room to see the scrape. mike gripped will’s hand and hissed when the cotton ball first dabbed, but the pain soon subsided.

“now this part isn’t too fun either but it’s kind of needed. how attached to that shirt are you?”

mike looked down at that faded, off-white with blue stripes shirt he was wearing. “not very. why?”

“ok, good. this won’t ruin the shirt but you might have to change is all i’m saying. I need to pour the peroxide directly on the scrape to clean it out properly. “

(I know that hydrogen peroxide actually tends to damage tissue and delay healing but they didn’t really know that in the 80s so bare with me.)

mike shuddered at the thought. “I don’t have clothes to change into.”

“I have an extra shirt in my bag.” offered lucas. “I had gym today.” he clarified when he got off looks.

“that’d be perfect, thanks sinclair.”

lucas jumped up to get the shirt and came back in with a white t-shirt with red sleeves. he set it on the counter for afterwards. lucas wordlessly took mike’s hand that will wasn’t holding.

it wasn’t long before the scrape was clean and steve was putting away the kit. while everyone else ran into the living room to watch movies and raid steve’s snacks, mike took the shirt and went to the bathroom to change.

when he came back out (after looking at the funny bandage on his chin— because seriously, what kind 17 year old just had dinosaur bandaids in their med-kit?) mike was quick to join everyone in the living room before steve could pull him aside again.

honestly? fuck that guy.

(but when mike sat between will and max on the couch he couldn’t stop thinking about how soft steve was when taking care of the scrape. he couldn’t stop himself from thinking about how old he was when he last felt that gentleness.

the answer was 7. mike was 7 when his mom deemed him old enough to deal with his own cuts and bruises.)

steve eventually held out on his promise of getting information. and after their first movie he forced them all onto the couches while he stood in front of them.

“so am I actually going to get an answer this time?” he stood with his hands on his hips and a dish towel thrown over his shoulder. mike remembered this same stance from not even a year ago, when they were trying to talk him into going in the tunnels.

steve almost reminded mike of his mom for a moment. but mike doubted his mom would go this far if she ever found out about the bullying. (mike refused to admit that he liked the idea of steve fretting over them like this. the idea made him almost sick to his stomach.)

everyone refused to look at him. max looked dead ahead at the wall, lucas kept his eyes trained on the floor, will was messing with his jacket sleeves and dustin was paying extra attention to the ceiling.

mike chewed the inside of his cheek.

“what the hell do you wanna hear from us, steve?” he asked. “that we’re being bullied? that they picked a fight with us first? that we’re nerds and freaks and weirdos?”

will, dustin and lucas flinched with each insult. max refused to look at anything other than what mike assumed was the odd spot on the wall. mike saw steve’s left eye twitch— the one he was always getting punched in.

“that what they told you?”

mike scoffed. “that’s what everyone told us. we’re the school circus!” his voice raised at the end and will flinched violently next to him.

“mike..” dustin uttered from beside max.

“sorry.” he mumbled, finally letting his gaze drop from steve to the coffee table in front of them.

steve sighed quietly.

“noah tanner and joey murphy, right? they both have older siblings, noah an older brother and joey an older sister.”

that made head snap to him.

“what—“ lucas started.

“mitchel tanner and annie murphy are their names. mitch is on the swim team, annie on the cheer team. they’re both barely passing their classes and aren’t exactly the kindest either— in fact I watched mitch shove freshman into a door yesterday.” steve continued, his voice soft as if he was simply talking to himself.

dustin’s and lucas’ jaws were on the floor, max and will were looking at him as if he were insane.

“so— wait—“

“you know their older siblings?”

“what the hell does that have to do with anything?”

steve smirked. and mike was /scared/. he’d seen steve smirk before, when he was dating nancy, when he said something particularly bitchy.

but this. this smirk was plain /mean/.

“would be a real shame if.. I dunno, their coaches suddenly find out about the poor sophomores they make do their homework. or worse— principal higgins finds out. who are mitch and annie gonna blame then, huh?”

dustin sputtered, “you! they’d just blame you, wouldn’t they?”

steve shrugged. “sure. but then they’d know why I did it. their brothers fucking with my kids.”

he said it so calmly. as if it was just the plain truth. as if he wasn’t scared to admit it.

if this is how he’s treated, being of steve’s “kids”, then shit. he may not be all that mad after all.

steve pulled the towel off his shoulder and walked back into the kitchen, a call over his shoulder about ham and cheese sliders and chips for dinner.

but none of the kids were listening.

lucas turned dustin who turned to max who turned to mike who turned to will who looked back at all of them with the biggest grin mike’s ever seen on his face.

ok. so maybe mike gets the hype the steve harrington.

(and if the next week of school went by with no issues, with noah and joey looking at them in /fear/? well. mike had steve to thank.)

[mingmingbats]

Golden boy

[findafight]

Me: I'm going to write a very normal fanfic :)

My brain: overly detail the workings of lifeguarding at local outdoor pool AND high school swim teams do it do it do it aaaaand now it's integral to the plot

Me: oh. Okay. At least I know about thos-

My brain: you need to know the world record holder for at least four different events in 1984 or you'll die

[stevesbipanic]

@steddielovemonth Day 11: Love is secretly studying up on the nerd shit he’s into @sparklyslug

If you'd have told Eddie of a year ago that the Steve Harrington, King Steve, swim team and basketball captain, and known laundry basket thrower, was a nerd he'd have laughed in your face.

Honestly, he'd have believed you more of you'd told him Steve was bisexual and would soon be Eddie's boyfriend, both facts that threw Eddie for less of a loop than learning Steve knew the difference between Star Wars and Star Trek.

"I work at a video store Eddie, it would be hard not to know."

Eddie would believe him but his darling boyfriend knew a lot for facts he didn't expect from the beautiful brunette. Like how he knew what an owlbear was when he was rambling his campaign plans in bed one night.

"I knew the kids before you, some of it must've stuck."

Or how he knew what Metroid was when the machine came to the arcade that summer.

"The kids are always talking about new little things they want Max to try and win."

Or when Eddie was telling a story about stargazing and Steve mentioned Halley's comet from earlier in the year.

"It was on the news, Eds, not gonna miss a thing like that."

Steve had lots of explanations but now here Eddie was, unpacking boxes in Steve and Robin's new apartment and staring at work copies of The Hobbit and the Lord of the Rings books. He lent over checking the side again, no that definitely says Steve's Room in big bold letters.

He placed the books on the shelf with a small smile on his face. Later, curled up in the new bed in the new room he asked, "I thought you didn't know what Mordor was, Stevie. Have you been hiding nerdy shit from me all along?"

Steve had a soft blush forming on his face, "I didn't know, at the time..."

Eddie was now more intrigued, "Wow, getting book recommendations in the middle of the end of the world, baby, priorities."

Steve laughed, the sweet smile still on his face, "No, um, I bought them cause of you but not because of that."

"Oh yeah? Why?"

"They're your favourite books and I wanted to know what you were talking about anytime we hung out and mentioned it."

"Steve did you actually study just to try and impress me?"

"There's a monster manual on the shelf too."

Eddie giggled and pulled Steve closer, "Mmm talk nerd to me baby, so it wasn't just the kids you got it from."

"Oh they definitely helped, I think Dustin was going to scream when I asked him to explain the dice of your game."

Eddie looked at his boyfriend softly, no one had taken an interest in what he liked, unless they already liked it, Steve went out of his way to know Eddie, inside and out.

"I guess I should confess, I totally asked Wayne to explain to me the rules of any of the games you two watch on tv before you come over."

A brightness twinkled in Steve's eyes at the confession, "I love you."

"Love you too, baby, nerd or jock as long as you're mine."

[sabbathbloodysabbeth]

This is personally one of my favorites I’ve ever written so if anyone wants I would love to see your opinions (:

[artaxlivs]

Eddie’s sitting in a lounge chair in Steve’s backyard. Well, it’s not a backyard perse, it’s a huge patio with a pool and then a whole fucking forest. Who’s house backs up to the forest? Do the Harrington’s own the forest, too?

Whatever, doesn’t matter. 

He’s sitting in the lounge chair in nothing but cut off shorts and his jewelry, slowly bakng in the sun. What’s left of his beer in it’s sun warmed can is held loosely in one hand when Max plops down in the chair next to him. El gently sits in the same chair as Max and the both stare at Eddie. He doesn’t look at them though.

After thirty seconds, Max asks, “What are you doing?”

“Just wait for it.” Eddie tells her, sipping on his warm beer but not moving his eyes from the poolhouse across the patio.

Both girls look over, shading their eyes with their hands. All three of them wait silently. After another minute or so, the poolhouse door swings open and Steve comes out, pushing something that looks like a vacuum cleaner. He’s wearing his headphones and sort of bouncing to the beat as he drags a big hose part of it over to the pool filter opening thingy. Popping the plastic lid off, Steve kneels down, reaches through the opening for the vacuumy attachment hose he’s holding through the pool side. It looks very complicated and Eddie doesn’t give any fucks about pool cleaning or safety or whatever the fuck is happening there.

What he cares about is all that lovely golden skin on display. Steve’s shirtless, modesty about that hairy chest or those bat bite scars nowhere in sight, wearing swim trunks so short that Eddie can see the little love bite he himself left on the inside of one of those thick thighs this morning. Left it so high that no one else would see it but he’d forgotten that this man is allergic to inseams longer than his pointer finger. 

Steve must get the hose attached because he stands back up, shakes the water off of his hands and gently lowers the pool vacuum into the water, holding the hose thingy as it sinks to the bottom. That done, he dances back into the poolhouse on barefeet, probably listening to fucking Bruce Springsteen or Queen because the guy actually has way more music cred than the kids give him credit for. There’s a click and low drone as he turns the filter on and the vacuum starts to roll around on the bottom of the pool.

Max turns to Eddie and grins. El doesn’t looks away from where Steve has disappeared into the poolhouse. “So we’re ogling Steve.” She says with a wolfish grin. No question. It’s a statement.

“Red!” Eddie sputters, looking away from the poolhouse to give her his best stink eye. “You are children!”

El makes a raspberry noise with her lips and rolls her eyes in a way that looks far too much like Max - or Mike.

Max scoffs, “We’re fifteen, you asshole. Tell us what you were looking at when you were fifteen and we’ll stop.”

Nope. He will not be doing that. No one ever needs to know what young Eddie was using for ....ew he’s not going to think of them doing anything he was doing at fifteen. Gross.

“Mayfield. You’re ruining it. Watch quietly and I won’t tell Steve.”

El grins too this time and settles into a more comfortable position. She and Max share a triumphant look and lean closer together. Probably to whisper to each other where he can’t hear them. Good. Eddie doesn’t want to know.

Steve comes back out, waves at them like the innocent babe that he is and then starts wielding a giant fly swatter - or wait, it’s a pool net. It’s like twelve feet long and Eddie can clearly see the muscles on Steve’s stomach and arms flex as he scoops out leaves and summer bugs from the middle of pool with it. By the time he’s satisfied with the now pristine surface of the pool, there’s a fine sheen of sweat on Steve. If Eddie wasn’t sitting next to two teenage girls, he’d probably be over there by now, climbing Steve like a fucking tree.

Who invited them? Oh wait, they did. Happy fucking summer he guesses.

The captain of the swim team disappears into the poolhouse again and when he comes out this time, he’s got a screwdriver and a lightbulb in his hands for some reason. Setting them on the edge of the pool, he dives in and Eddie was not prepared for that. Steve’s all sleek and long limbed, sunkissed as he barely makes a splash into the pool. When he comes up, he flicks his hair back and swims over to where he left the screwdriver, putting it between his teeth and pushing himself below the surface.

Steve really shouldn’t have let the girls come over to swim today. He should have known what watching this was gonna do to Eddie. Damn him. He hears the girls giggling and sighing as he watches his boyfriend replace the light in the pool underwater. Like, he’s under water the whole time. Jesus, how long can Steve hold his breath for and what else...nope, don’t think about it.

Eddie has zero idea of how much time has passed but eventually Steve gets out of the pool, drags the vacuum thing out - holy wet back muscles Batman - and puts it back in the poolhouse. Dripping and carrying a towel in one hand and his walkman in the other, Steve wanders over to the three of them and then shakes himself like a fucking dog, The girls squeal and Eddie doesn’t because he honestly needed the cool down.

“You guys enjoy the show?” Steve smirks.

Fucking ‘A they did. Thank you very much. Eddie can’t wait to drag Steve inside and ravish him now.

That doesn’t happen. Because the girls, while old enough to thirst after an adult man, are apparently not old enough for Steve to leave alone in the pool for the thirty minutes it would take for him to bend Eddie over his bed and fuck him - honestly they could probably make it happen in fifteen if they tried. So instead, they play babysitters all afternoon and when Hop finally picks the two troublemakers up, Eddie’s too goddamn sunburnt to get laid.

Very gently, Steve rubs aloe into Eddie’s lobster red shoulders and vulnerable spiderweb of scars across his stomach, the tops of his knees and across his nose. “And what did we learn?” Steve snarks at him.

“To put sunscreen on before you take your shirt off.” Eddie replies morosely from where he’s laying on his back on Steve’s cool sheets, staring up at the ceiling and deeply regretting his lack of foresight.

He almost jackknives up when Steve tugs the waistband of his shorts down to expose his still white underbelly and kisses him just above his hairline. “Mmmhhmm, there is one part of you that escaped the mean summer sunshine,” he sucks a bruise into Eddie’s skin where he’d left the kiss, tugging gently to help Eddie out of his scratchy jean cut offs. “And lucky for you, I’m a giver.”

Happy fucking summer indeed.

***That’s all there is of this one but feel free to check out my masterlist of full fics here.  If you’re thirsty for Bottom Eddie being feral over Steve, Drummer Steve is the one I suggest. If you’re looking for kinky & clueless Top Eddie then An Accidental Flogging is probably more your thing. Happy reading!

[laundrybiscuits]

(Continued from this snippet! Content notes: police interrogation, homophobia)

“You don’t look gay.” The detective gives Steve a very obvious once-over. Steve tries to look gayer as subtly as he can. 

“Sorry,” he says. “Guess I’ll have to let my boyfriend know you don’t think I look gay enough to fuck him.”

The detective’s face twists slightly, like he’s smelled something bad. “No need to be like that. I’m just saying, I bet a good-looking guy like you could get a girlfriend pretty easy.”

“You’re not my type,” says Steve. He smiles with his teeth, even though his heart is going fast and he can feel his palms starting to sweat. 

The detective’s hands tense, and Steve wonders if he’s about to get hit, but they relax again and the detective sits back.

“Just doing my job,” says the detective. “Because, funny enough, we asked around with all your little friends, and it seems like you used to be a bit of a ladies’ man.”

“Things change,” says Steve. 

“In fact…seems like none of your friends ever even saw you talk to Munson before. Moved in different circles and everything. I remember what high school was like.”

The detective leans close. 

“So why would the captain of the swim team, a nice normal boy from a good family with a string of pretty girlfriends, ever—ever—stick his neck out like this for some murdering scum like Munson? That’s what I’m trying to figure out, here.”

“Don’t fucking talk about him like that,” says Steve. His mouth is dry. His pulse is thundering in his ears. “He didn’t kill anyone. He was with me the whole time. He’s—he didn’t kill anyone.”

“Hm,” says the detective. 

It takes a while for them to stop interrogating him. They keep asking him the same questions over and over, trying to trip him up. He asks for water and doesn’t get it. In the back of his mind, a hysterical little voice is shrieking Scoops Ahoy! I work for Scoops Ahoy!, but he manages to keep it locked down. Doesn’t let himself get baited, just keeps repeating that Eddie was with him the whole time and neither of them know anything. 

It takes a while, but it’s over eventually.

When he leaves the station, Eddie’s standing outside with Hopper and Joyce Byers, wearing a shirt and jeans that definitely belonged to Jonathan at some point. Eddie’s got his hands tucked into his armpits, looking antsy and tense, but he’s free and standing on his own two feet. It’s a pretty big upgrade from when Steve last saw him about a week or two ago. 

It’s almost too easy to go straight over to him, wrapping him up in a tight hug like they’ve had their arms around each other a million times. 

“Oof. Easy there, tiger,” laughs Eddie. “I’m, uh, still a little fragile.”

“Sorry,” says Steve, and loosens his hold. He doesn’t let go all the way.

“Come on, boys,” says Joyce. “I’m taking you two home. Steve, Eddie’s been staying with us, but we’re a little short on spare beds and it’s not great for his recovery. We’re moving him to your place until we can figure out something better, okay?” 

———

Joyce drops them off and helps carry in a few garbage bags full of Eddie’s stuff. There’s not that much.

And then the door closes behind her, and Steve’s alone with Eddie for the first time since—actually, maybe ever. 

“So,” says Eddie. “What…the fuck, Harrington.”

“Is that an actual question?” Steve says. He rolls his shoulders, trying to get some of the stiffness out. “I mean, didn’t Hopper and Mrs. Byers explain everything to you?”

“Kind of? I mean, I still think this is probably the worst idea of all time, but they told me—anyway, what I meant just now was a much more personalized and individual what the fuck. As in, why the fuck would you agree to any of this? You know you’re never gonna get another girl in this town to look at you now.”

“Dumping me already? Ice cold, man.”

Eddie groans and actually throws his hands in the air in frustration. Steve hadn’t known people did that in real life. 

“Jesus christ.” Eddie wheels around and grabs two of the garbage bags. “I can’t do this right now, I need to take a fucking nap. We will be discussing this later.”

“Still don’t know what there is to discuss,” says Steve, but he picks up the last garbage bag and leads the way to the spare room. 

Eddie pitches forwards onto the bed, arms outstretched and face mashed into the pillow. “Fuck yes, I am going to marry this goddamn mattress. Hit the lights when you leave,” he says, slightly muffled. 

For a second, Steve finds himself stepping forward with a hand outstretched to—do something. He’s not sure what. Touch Eddie’s hair, or something dumb like that. His face warms. He’s really glad Eddie isn’t looking at him and doesn’t see how he’s kind of just standing there with a hand out for no reason. 

He turns around, flicking the light switch on his way out, and doesn’t look back.

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU part 23

part 1 | part 22 | ao3

cw: alcohol, recreational drinking

Steve fusses with his hair in the side mirror again, tugging awkwardly at his borrowed clothes. He feels stupid, standing here fidgeting in the parking lot like some kind of nervous freshman, but half of Hawkins seems to be here tonight and Robin’s got him dressed like a loser — worn green flannel and a ripped black tee with a faded picture of The Smiths. Jesus. “Did you really have to dress me like this?” 

“What? You look cute!” 

“I look like I raided Jonathan Byers’ closet.”

“No, you look like someone a certain neighbor is going to be drooling over all night.” Steve’s grateful for the dark then; for the blush it hides on his cheeks. “It’s not my fault you don't know how to make a deal; if you wanted to borrow a specific shirt, you should have said so before we shook on it.”

“Besides,” she ignores him when he rolls his eyes at her, “you wouldn’t even let me smudge eyeliner on your lower lash line like I wanted to, so I really don't feel like you’ve earned complaining privileges.” 

“I’ll complain if I fucking want to,” he grumbles under his breath. He runs a hand through his hair one more time, then forces himself to look away from the mirror. Rolls his shoulders back and down. “He’s not even here, anyway.”

“Ah-ha! So you did check.” She links their arms together, starts dragging Steve across the uneven gravel, her ankles wobbling in her low-heeled boots. “‘Just looking for a good parking spot,’ my ass. God, I’m always so right about everything. I'm, like, cosmically correct. I should really play the lottery next time I visit my grandparents..."

“Uh huh.” He’s not sure what luck and correctness have to do with each other, but sure.

She stumbles over a rock; pushes into his side, grinning, “I’m serious! I’ll play the lottery, and I’ll win big, and then you’ll see. Might even split my winnings with you if you’re nice to me.” 

“I’m literally so nice to you all the time, but okay. Can’t wait to take half your earnings when you get ten bucks off a scratcher.” 

“Hey, five bucks is five bucks! That’s like an hour and a half of our lives.”

Jesus Christ. “That’s just depressing.”

They walk arm and arm down the narrow footpath to the party — ferns brushing their calves, dry dirt beneath their shoes kicking up tiny clouds of dust — and as the path opens up Steve sees the place is packed. More packed than the overstuffed parking lot let on. There are people scattered over the picnic grounds in groups of fours and fives, a full dance floor under the main pavilion; a DJ set up at the front with food and drink stands to the side; a giant bowl of spiked punch; a tower of solo cups; a couple of coolers filled with beer.

In the surrounding grass he sees more tables, more people. A couple of guys he remembers from swim team rally around an arm wrestling match; another group plays beer pong on a brown fold-up table that they definitely stole from someone’s church. There's a circle of burnouts playing hacky sack behind a tree.

The bonfire burns brightly on the hillside in the distance, and beyond that he spots the faint glow of trail lights leading up to a bridge under the falls. 

Part of him wants to follow the trail. Shake Robin off, pretend like he’s going to take a leak. Find a nice rocky overhang to camp under for a while.

Listen to river sounds. Gentle slosh; cricket buzz.

Maybe he gets drunk up there alone. Maybe he just enjoys the solitude; lies on a rock on his belly by the icy river’s edge, swirls his hand in frigid water and doesn't dream of dark brown curls.

“Steve?” Robin nudges him. “You good?”

Another, much less annoying part of him reminds him that he’s Steve Goddamn Harrington. He knows how to have a good time at a party.

Who cares if he feels too old to be here, or if it’s weird to see so many faces that used to call him Captain or King? Who cares that he's one smudge of eyeliner away from looking like a full-blown new wave art freak?

He’s not about to slink off to do depressed weirdo wallflower shit when the DJ’s playing Wham!

“Yeah.” He squeezes her shoulder. “You want a drink?” 

“Yes, please.” 

—

The drinks are strong.

Steve’s pretty sure the punch bowl is a lot more hunch than punch, but there’s still no sign of Vickie, and Robin’s getting that sad little stress wrinkle between her brows about it, so Steve says bottoms up and starts chugging. 

They wince their way through two cups each. Robin plugs her nose on the second one like she’s about to do a high dive, and Steve laughs and takes her hand, leading her into the crowd just as Take on Me comes on. The lights all blur together as they shimmy and shake and twirl, moving like a couple of dorks, but Steve’s having a great time. Bobbing his head to the beat; a big, dumb grin on his face as he moves his hips. Robin shouts “Watch this!” over the music, and the next thing he knows they’re competing to see who can bust the worst dance move. 

He brings out all the big guns, the full-groan dad maneuvers.

The sprinkler, the lawn mower, the fucking disco finger. 

Robin answers with a sloppy attempt at the robot, so he makes up a new move he calls be kind, rewind, and she laughs like a horse and pretends to walk down a flight of stairs.

She’s crouched into a goofy lunge, two steps into the ascent back up, when the song fades out and a ballad takes over. The crowd presses in to slow dance; Robin steps on someone's toes.

“Hey, watch it!” the person hisses.

Robin startles hard; knocks herself off-balance when she tries to stand up straight, babbling, "Oh, my god, I'm so sorry! Are you- are you okay? I'm such a klutz, oh, my god, I'm—"

Steve snatches her up under the armpits; puts her back on her feet. Then he looks up and realizes who exactly she just stepped on. 

Well, shit.

—

part 24

tag list part 1 below the cut, let me know if you want me to add you tomorrow (21+ only, please confirm your age if you're asking to be tagged)

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[unclewaynemunson]

If there's anyone who knows all about forced conforming, it's Steve Harrington. Steve, who has buried feelings he wasn't supposed to feel for as long as he can remember. Steve, who has been wearing polos and levi jeans and driving a bmw without ever questioning what it is that he likes. Steve, who surrounded himself with the people he was supposed to hang out with without ever wondering what real friendship would mean. Steve, who listened to whatever music the radio would be playing and who was on the basketball team and who took a different girl out on a date every week.

And then there was Eddie. Eddie, who showed him music he had never listened to before and asked him if he liked it. Who looked at him with wide eyes and an uncharacteristically shy smile, searching his face, as if he was genuinely interested in the answer. Eddie, who asked him to share his own favorite music in return and asked him why he liked it. Eddie, who kept asking him why he liked the things he liked, who made him stop and think about that time and time again.

Eddie, who made him realize that he liked a van like Eddie's better than his bmw, but that he did enjoy wearing polos. Who made him realize that he had only been captain of the swimming team because there happened to be a pool in his backyard, but that he did genuinely enjoy a good basketball game.

Eddie, who unearthed the feelings Steve wasn't supposed to feel without even knowing he did it. Eddie, who was patient with him and kept encouraging him to try new things and grow into his own person. Eddie, who after dozens of "Do you like this?" and "Why do you like this?" finally was brave enough to change the question to a heavily charged "Do you like me?" And when that happened, Steve had found out enough about who he was and what he liked to answer with a fiery "yes" immediately.

And Eddie didn't need to ask him why - Steve already knew the answer to that question exactly. "Because you take me exactly as I am. Because you always encourage me to be who I want to be. Because you keep allowing me to keep the parts I like about myself and change the parts I don't. Because you never worry about what other people might think. Because you're overflowing with passion and energy and creativity. Because you're the most beautiful person I've ever known. Because you're you."

[monrageo]

Saw a lot of Spider-Steve art so I had to jump in. Most art modernised him but I want my 80s, mallrat, neon lights Spider-Man + I wrote his origin story. *POSES FOUND ON PINTEREST*

Also Steve looks great in the classic red and blue but I wanted him to have his own costume so yellow he shall be. Now onto my headcanons.

In a world where Hawkins is a megapolis a teen boy gets bitten by a radioactive spider in 83’ while visiting Hawkins Lab (Think less abandoned more Oscorp/Alchemax) and so it begins. He starts doing small good things around the city, experimenting with his powers.

But he isn’t thinking about being a superhero or anything close to that (I imagine the drawing with the sweats and goggles is his first “costume”). Then he gets with this amazing girl-Nancy Wheeler.

Life is looking up for Steve he’s got these weird powers that get him to be the basketball and swim team captain. He’s popular, he’s got this amazing girl that inspires him to be better and better.

He looses his popular crowd friends, he wants to be better. He starts thinking about the superhero thing and actually goes through with it. He isn’t shouting it from the rooftops but news is getting around that a guy in spandex is busting criminals- Spider-man/King Spider.

Steve gets cocky, thinks he’s on top of the world, untouchable. Then Will Byers goes missing-that’s a whole separate story. Nancy and John start their investigation. Steve gets jealous etc.

In the end a battle breaks out and Steve is unable to save one person-Barbara Holland. His girlfriend’s best friend. That of course destroys Nancy. She doesn’t know Steve is Spider-man, she seeks comfort in him but things are not the same.

There’s this whole thing with Jonathan, the obvious attraction, the compatibility. But also Steve’s guilt, his self hatred. He realises he was too blindsided by his cockiness. Barb’s death is on his hands. He breaks up with Nancy and solely focuses on being the best Spider-man he can be.

That of course costs him friends etc. but when you’ve been through what he has high school drama just seems pointless… and so King Steve falls from the throne.

I imagine the Nancy story line parallels the Gwen Stacy one in the original comics (without the death and clones), maybe Nancy even blames and hates Spider-man the way Gwen did… that also contributes to the Stancy break-up.

Perhaps Nancy becomes hyper focused on catching this Spider-man so he can be held accountable for Barb’s death.

Anyways now Steddie, I think Eddie would love Spider-man / King Spider he’s some guy with spider powers and bright spandex that helps people, super camp, Eddie would love him.

I think Steve starts noticing Eddie in a new light when his lunch table tirades now also include how awesome spider-man is. This unapologetic support makes the now loser Steve feel like it is all worth it-the stress, the pain, the loneliness-

Tough he of course knows Eddie isn’t talking about him, he’s talking about Spider-man, the hero. Not the former popular guy Steve Harrington.

I have many ideas regarding a Stranger things!Spider-verse and which characters could be what. Maybe Barb’s death was something Lizard-like, but upside down version. Like something from the lap infected her? I like the idea of Steve’s father being involved in the labs, perhaps as a Norman Osborn parallel, without becoming the Goblin though.

The goblin/Norman/Harry Osborn storyline could be reimagined with Tommy perhaps??? Then Venom with Eddie (so perfect) or Billy (a tragic end)??

[sidekick-hero]

(steddie | teen | 2.5k | tags: different first meeting, emotional hurt/comfort | summary: What happens when Steve meets Eddie Munson, who has just failed his senior year for the first time, during one of his nightly drives? | @steddielovemonth prompt Love is asking, "do you want a blanket?" by @thefreakandthehair | AO3)

Steve's life was completely turned upside down (theoretically he sees the humor in this, but in practice the trauma trumps the pun) six months and six days ago when he came face-to-face with a honest-to-God inter-dimensional monster and barely survived to not tell the tale thanks to an airtight and frankly scary NDA.

He should be over it by now, right? He shouldn't be waking up screaming, drenched in his own sweat and shaking all over, his heart racing in his chest and his stomach in his throat.

Right.

Well, he's not. He doesn't get over it. The nightmares don't go away. If anything, he feels like they're getting worse, his mind adding horrible details and things that didn't happen, but could have, to keep torturing him.

He's a fucking mess.

Steve Harrington is a mess. His grades are slipping, on their way to joining his social status at rock bottom, and even his performance as co-captain of the swim team and basketball team is suffering from lack of sleep.

The only thing he has going for him is Nancy. Nancy, who doesn't understand that Steve just wants to get over the horror and the paranoia, just wants his life back, just wants to be normal again.

She doesn't say it outright, but he knows she thinks he's selfish, too self-centered to care about anything but himself. Sure, he's made amends with Jonathan and cut ties with Tommy and Carol, but deep down, Nancy doesn't think he's changed all that much. He's not Jonathan, he's not mature and monosyllabic and introspective. Just dumb little Steve, pretty to look at but not much else to offer.

These are the things he ponders during his late-night drives when another nightmare keeps him awake. It's impossible to fall asleep with terror pumping through his veins, so instead he climbs into his car and just drives. Some nights he will drive for hours, music playing softly from one of his tapes, Queen, Springsteen, Tears For Fears, Bon Jovi.

Tonight his drive takes him to the edge of town, right where a dirt road leads to the quarry. Steve has no idea why, but something makes him actually leave the main road and turn onto it. He follows it where it leads into the woods, slowing down on the bumpy road until he sees the dense cluster of trees open up to reveal a glimpse of the starry night sky. The path seems to open up into a clearing, and just there, to the right, Steve spots an old van.

He knows the car, has seen it often enough in the parking lot of Hawkins High to know that it belongs to none other than Eddie Munson, local drug dealer and freak.

At least that's what everyone keeps calling him, and sure, the guy seems a little weird, with his speeches on cafeteria tables, his dramatic antics in and out of class. He certainly doesn't look like most of the other kids, with his ripped jeans (clearly from wear and tear rather than fashion sense), long, unruly curls, and loud shirts advertising bands Steve has never heard of. People also shit on him for his father and for living in a trailer park, but none of that sounds particularly freaky to Steve.

Knowing what he does now, though, it worries him to think of Munson all alone out here where anything could happen to him. He doesn't know Munson, just about him, but Steve couldn't live with himself if he came to school on Monday and found Munson missing. One person has already died because of his carelessness, and no one deserves to suffer the same fate as Nancy's friend Barb.

Parking his car right next to Munson's, Steve climbs out and walks around the car to the trunk to pick up the nail bat that saved his life and the lives of Nancy and Jonathan. Then he makes his way to the opening of the clearing ahead.

Stepping out of the trees, Steve stops to take in the sight before him.

Above him stretches the inky expanse of the night sky, a seemingly endless void painted with a myriad of distant stars. The moonlight danced along the jagged edges of the quarry, revealing the vastness of the rocky landscape below in a silvery glow. The only sound that broke the silence of the night was the occasional soft rustle of leaves. The air was crisp and clean, carrying with it a hint of earthiness from the rocky terrain. In this secluded enclave, far from the lights of the city, the stars were front and center, and Steve felt unbelievably small.

With his shoulders hunched over his ears and his arms slung protectively around his knees, the figure sitting on the edge of the cliff looks even smaller than he feels.

It seems that Munson didn't even hear his car approaching, and that makes Steve's hair stand on end because it means that anyone, anything could have snuck up on him. It's not safe.

Steve approaches cautiously, trying his best not to startle the other boy and cause him to fall to his certain death.

"Munson?" He asks softly, quietly, but to no avail. It still causes Munson to flail in surprise, and only Steve's quick reflexes keep him from falling over the edge. With his knees still smarting from the sudden drop to the ground, Steve has his arm wrapped around the other boy, and both of them are panting from the shock.

"Fuck, man, are you trying to kill me?" Munson's voice quavers too much to be truly biting.

Steve carefully loosens his grip on Munson and leans back to sit on his haunches. Running a slightly trembling hand through his hair, he can't help but bite back. "If you paid more attention to what was going on around you, you would have heard me coming. I wasn't really trying to be subtle. It's like you want to get killed."

Munson scoots away from the edge of the cliff and climbs to his feet to look down at Steve and the nail bat he dropped when he made a grab for the other boy. He raises a judgmental eyebrow, causing Steve's defenses to go up in an instant.

They look at each other, brown meeting hazel, until Munson breaks the silence. "By someone walking around with a nail-studded bat, you mean?"

"I wasn't going to hit you with it!" And crap, abort Harrington, abort.

Now both eyebrows look at him questioningly. "And who, pray tell, pissed off King Steve enough to deserve this kind of treatment?"

"No one! For God's sake, I thought you might be in danger and wanted to be prepared in case you were." Then he adds, "After what happened to Will Byers and Barbara Holland, you'd think people in this town would be more careful instead of hanging out in the woods in the middle of the night."

Ed-No, Munson's eyes soften at his explanation. "Shit, sorry man. You're right, I guess." Shuffling his feet, he offers his own explanation for his harsh reaction. "Just had a shitty day, I guess. I shouldn't have bitten your head off for trying to look out for me. Although I never thought King Steve would ride in on his white horse to save the school freak from unimaginable evil."

"White horse? What, like a knight? Does that make you the damsel in distress, Munson?"

Munson gets a strange look on his face at Steve's words, and before he knows what's happening, the guy pretends to faint right into his arms. He catches him just before he hits the ground and feels how cold the boy's body is in his thin t-shirt. "My savior," Munson croons, and Steve rolls his eyes at his antics. Still not a freak, but definitely weird.

Instead of dignifying this with an answer, Steve says, "You're freezing, man. What are you doing out here in the middle of the night anyway?"

Dark brown eyes search his, and Steve thinks he's never seen such expressive eyes. He can read a myriad of emotions in them and he doesn't even know the guy. Sadness, caution, defeat, and something he's seen in the mirror a lot in the last few months: fear.

"I bet you have better things to do than listen to my sad little problems. Can't imagine you're just running around town rescuing damsels in distress now, I'm sure you have places to be, a kingdom to rule..."

"Could you just drop the whole 'King Steve' crap, man? I'm not him. Not anymore. Even if nobody seems to have gotten the memo."

"Okay, woah, sorry, man. I didn't know this was such a touchy subject."

"Do you want me to call you a freak and make assumptions about you based solely on high school gossip?"

"I don't know, don't you?"

"I'm trying not to. You don't have to tell me what's going on if you don't want to. I'm just saying... I know what it's like when you can't stand lying in your bed staring at the ceiling any longer. Wanting to get out and leave whatever it is that's bothering you behind, but no matter how fast you drive, it keeps catching up with you."

He's rambling, he knows he is, he didn't plan on unburdening his heart to Eddie Munson of all people, but here they are.

"I failed senior year." Eddie finally admits in a small voice, not meeting Steve's eyes.

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"Fuck, man. That sucks. Can you repeat it?"

"Sure. But I... God, everyone was right all along. I'm a failure, a fuckup. Just like my dad. A good-for-nothing waste of space. I haven't even told Wayne, I can't stand the look in his eyes when I tell him". There are tears in Eddie's eyes and Steve's heart breaks for him.

"Fuck!" Eddie shouts across the quarry and a flock of birds takes flight somewhere in the nearby woods. He's shaking again, and this time it's not from the adrenaline. Steve can't really take away any of the things that are weighing on Eddie, but he can offer him something else.

"Do you want a blanket?"

Eddie's doe eyes blink at him slowly, as if he's not sure he heard him right.

"You're only wearing a T-shirt, you must be cold." Eddie doesn't deny it. "Let me get you a blanket, then."

Another slow blink, and then, "If you're...sure?"

Steve gives him a smile that he hopes is warm and reassuring. "I'm sure." He walks over to his BMW and takes the nail bat with him, exchanging it for the blanket that he keeps in the trunk of his car at all times. Tommy H. calls it the "baby maker blanket," which is so typical of Tommy that Steve wonders why he was hanging out with him at all. Maybe because he was a friend to Steve when no one else would be.

But maybe he won't tell Eddie about the blanket's history. Anyway, it's freshly washed and smells only of his detergent.

Handing it to the boy, Steve says, "There you go," before turning to walk back to his car.

"Where are you going?"

When Steve turns back, Eddie is sitting on the ground with the blanket around his shoulder, one end held open as if inviting Steve to join him.

"Back home?" It's not supposed to sound like a question, but some of his reluctance to leave seeps into it anyway. He doesn't want to go home to his empty house and bed, afraid to close his eyes in case the nightmares come back.

"Look, you don't have to, of course, but if you want, you can stay and tell me what brought you here in the middle of the night. Or not. We could just sit here in silence, totally fine with me."

Steve snorts, because even though this is the first time he's had a conversation with Eddie, he can already tell that silence doesn't come easy to him.

"If you're sure," he repeats Eddie's words back to him as he makes his way over to him.

"I'm sure," Eddie says firmly, wrapping the blanket around Steve as soon as he sits down next to him.

Many things surprised Steve that night, but most of all how comfortable the silence between him and Eddie had felt as they watched the stars until they gave way to the rising sun.

They never talked about that night again, the polite nods in the halls all the acknowledgment they allowed for what had happened.

But when Steve walks across the stage to receive his diploma in 1985, he notices Eddie's absence and his heart aches for him. He had been looking forward to seeing Eddie walk across the stage next to him, to give him a smile, a wink. Maybe even ask him out for a celebratory beer, if he's being completely honest with himself.

The sad truth is: Steve had no one to spend his graduation with, no girlfriend, no friends, just a 13-year-old know-it-all whose bedtime didn't really allow for any kind of grown-up celebration. Eddie was his only hope of not being alone tonight.

That's probably why he's heading out to the quarry again that night, bat and blanket in tow.

It's a shot in the dark, and at the same time it's not. Because there Eddie is, sitting on the edge again, small and defeated, and just as alone as Steve. Without a word, Steve joins him on the ground and wraps the blanket around them both.

"I'm sorry."

Eddie's warm weight settles against him. "Me too." Silence falls between them, and Steve thinks that's all they'll say, but then Eddie nudges his shoulder with his own and says, "I'm sorry, too. About Wheeler."

"Me too."

Steve thinks that even if he's not a poet, there's something symbolic in the way they both watch the sun rise again over the quarry.

The next time he wrapped the blanket around Eddie, it was again in the middle of the night. Only this time, Eddie is unconscious in the back of his car while Steve races to the hospital, praying to any God who will listen that this will not be the last time.

It isn't. Not by a long shot. Getting the blood out is not easy, but with Joyce's help he manages. The blanket is there when physical therapy is especially grueling, when they both sit on the porch of Eddie's new trailer, Steve holding Eddie under the blanket's protective cover.

It's there when Steve moves in with the Munsons and gets a special place on Eddie's bed, though they never make love on it. The blood was hard enough to get out, and the material doesn't look like it can take much more deep cleaning.

They take it with them when they move to their apartment in Chicago, and it's there for every bad day either of them has.

Their blanket finds its final purpose, however, with the arrival of their daughter, April. From the day their little bundle of joy moves in with them, she sleeps wrapped in the foundation of Steve and Eddie's love.

Steve may not be a poet, that's Eddie's job, but he appreciates the symbolism all the same.

[t-lostinworlds]

Competitively Stupid | Steve Harrington

》 PAIRING: steve harrington x female!reader

》 TROPE/GENRE: rivals-ish (since childhood) to lovers, some angst; fluff

》 SUMMARY: It was stupid, jumping off a cliff just to prove that you were better than Steve fucking Harrington. But you were competitive. You were not losing to him. But you know what was stupider? For it to take a near-death situation for you both to confess what you truly feel for each other.

》 WARNINGS: canon divergent (everyone is alive & well & happy thanks), pet names (sweetheart, baby), shitty parents (on both sides), competitiveness on all accounts, r is basically a counterpart of steve during high school (cheerleading captain, queen of hawkins high, swim team captain, etc.), peer pressure-ish, some stupid decisions & stupider actions, very irresponsible cliff jumping (which doesn't end well), drowning, CPR, injuries, an emotional moment™, love confessions, and a happy, sappy ending.

》 WORD COUNT: 5.3k+

A/N: hi! okay, well, it's been a while since i posted a steve fic so i'm kinda nervous ngl. also, not me making it a habit to include swimmer!steve in all my fics from here on out. this was meant to be short & sweet to dust off the cobwebs but lol. super random. i saw a video of someone cliff-jumping & boom, the idea was born. also, not me using the first aid training i learned in college.

📍 BLOG NAVIGATION ✩ STEVE H. MASTERLIST ✩ MAIN MASTERLIST ✩

⊱ ─────.⋅♚ *｡･ﾟ.★. *｡･ﾟ✫*.

This was stupid.

Absolutely idiotic.

You genuinely have no idea why you were even doing this in the first place.

"There's no way you can do it."

Right.

That's why.

The taunting voice of Steve fucking Harrington was the reason why you were standing on the edge of a cliff, looking down at a thirty-foot drop into the dark ocean.

This was supposed to be a relaxing trip with your new found family.

"You know you don't have to listen to him, right?" Robin sighed, so completely over the fact that her two best friends who never got along no matter what she tried, somehow came to an agreement to not listen to her right now.

Not that you could blame her.

You and Steve had been rivals ever since you were kids.

It was what you had always known.

What with narcissistic parents who used their children as pawns to one up each other, you had been conditioned to see him as an enemy from the second you step foot into their home.

Your family was invited into the Harrington residence for dinner as a way of welcoming you to the neighborhood. You recently just moved in, so you didn't know anyone else yet. When you heard that the next-door neighbor had a son who was your age, you had been really excited to gain a new friend.

All that changed when your dad sat you down an hour before, prepping you about how the Harringtons were a respected family in the town, and that you needed to show them you weren't any less than them, if not show them you were better. He drilled it in your brain to be on your best behavior, to be the best and the perfect daughter.

It only got worse when you finally sat down at that dinner table.

The comparisons were endless.

"See, my daughter here is a wonderful gymnast, quite amazing for someone her age."

"How wonderful. Steven here has swimming lessons every weekend. His coach said he might end up in the Olympic team once he's of age."

"Splendid. How about his academics? I'm sure he can take inspiration from my daughter's exemplary grades."

"He's the top of his class. Maybe if they study together, your daughter would be able to catch up in time."

It was harsh, pitting two seven-year-olds against each other—impressionable kids who only wanted to make their mom and dad proud.

But neither your parents nor his truly gave a shit. All they cared about was becoming the best family in the street, if not the whole town.

The sad thing was, those dinners became a regular thing, held alternately between your house and his.

It always looked like a preparation for battle whenever your mom would pull out the finest china in her collection along with the cookbook she only ever used for special occasions.

It was in the guise of cordiality when it was, in fact, an excuse to show off, to make a competition out of everything, a moment to compare who did what best. Those dinners were like monthly scoreboards, tallying up the respective families' recent achievements—and that included yours and Steve's.

Nobody was surprised that the competitiveness stuck with you both.

And it only got worse during high school.

Whether that was something as mundane as winning the popularity contest when running different circles—even going as far as getting crowned the King and Queen of Hawkins High—down to academics and extracurriculars.

Captain of the basketball team. Captain of the cheerleading squad. Prom Queen. Prom King. MVP of the season. Brightest student of the year. Beer pong Queen. Kegstand King. Best summer camp counselor. Lifeguard of the month and it went on and on and on and on.

When he got co-captain for the men's swim team, you rubbed it in his face that you were the captain of the women's team. When you got second place at the science fair, he made sure to rub his first place medal right in your face. When you became president of the student council, you ordered him around to do extra work whenever the basketball team was required to help with community service.

It was a constant back and forth.

There was always a competition between you and Steve Harrington.

And sure, since you graduated, it became subdued. But it was still very much there. Vying on who was the coolest babysitter in your band of ragtags, even fighting to have the title of Robin Buckley's ultimate best friend.

This thing between you and Steve was deeply rooted. So there really wasn't much Robin could do apart from getting in between your frequent squabbles before you started actually killing each other.

In Robin's words, something drastic had to happen for you both to finally wake up and see that this rivalry between you both wasn't what it seemed to be on the surface.

You had no idea what she was even implying.

Now, on a little getaway on the nearest beach you could drive to, the competition started with a race on who could get there first. It wasn't even fair seeing that you weren't the one driving.

The group had split into two, some were in Eddie's van—along with everyone's belongings since he had ample space in the back—while the others were in Steve's Beemer. Since you and Steve couldn't be in the same room together without an argument ensuing, it was a unanimous decision to have you two separated. Nobody wanted to deal with that for hours on the road.

Not that you could blame them, either.

And sure, it was the kids who suggested the race, but with Steve's smug smirk and that arrogant wink he threw once you got into Eddie's passenger seat, you knew it was game on between you too.

Yet despite the metal head being a fast—albeit slightly reckless—driver, he somehow took his sweet goddamn time getting to your destination.

Only when your group arrived at the beach last, did he say something about Steve threatening him to be extra careful with driving because there's important cargo in his van—whatever the hell that meant.

You lost to Steve on that one, but you would argue it was rigged from the start.

The next was a supposed friendly bout on who could build the biggest sandcastle that didn't topple over after a few minutes.

It was boys versus girls with you and him being team leaders. The girls won, obviously and El never used her powers. It was fair and square since the other team mostly argued over everything they could think of and had no teamwork at all. You made sure to point that out to Steve as you watched their sandcastle crumble into ruins.

Another one was beach volleyball. Same leaders as before, but you get to pick the members of your teams this time. Steve made it his mission to pick the tallest of the bunch. Still, it wasn't the advantage he thought it was because it ended up being one point too close.

Your team would've won if Steve wasn't such a dramatic asshole.

It was truly an accident. When you spiked that ball, you were not aiming for his face. He simply thought it was a good idea to catch the ball with it. Besides, he was distracted, flirting with some random girl in a bikini who was passing by, right in the middle of the game.

How was it your fault that he wasn't paying attention?

He made sure to oversell his injury after that, curled up on the sand as the girl fussed over him. But you saw that smirk on his face. You would've hit him again—definitely not by accident this time—if you weren't busy arguing with Robin about the point deduction. She said it was only fair since you hit the ball when she hadn't blown her imaginary whistle yet.

You decided to let it go when Steve commented on you being a whiny sore loser.

Unfortunately, the competition was ending with who could make jumping off a cliff and into the ocean look the coolest—adults only, despite the groans of protest from the mischievous bunch.

Eddie offered to stay behind and watch the rascals. When teased, he simply said he didn't want to test Death today.

His comment didn't help your nerves.

Robin said she was only coming purely as a voice of reason. She'd been saying nonstop how it was a horribly stupid idea, that there really was no need to be doing this in the first place.

But Steve wasn't backing down, so you weren't going to either.

So once again, it was only you and him.

As it always had been.

He volunteered to go first, throwing in a comment about rushing back up the cliff's edge before you could take your turn because he wanted a front-row seat for when you'd chicken out.

It only made you want to do it more.

His dive was smooth, almost flawless, you admit. He even showed off with a little flip near the end. It didn't take long for him to swim back to the shore, either. His years of training as a swimmer were obviously paying off.

But you trained just as much if not more than he had.

The only difference was, adrenaline didn't fuel you as much as it did Steve. So instead of getting all powered up looking down at a cliff's edge like he was, you were terrified.

But who wouldn’t get scared looking down at harsh waves crashing against sharp and jagged rocks? There was no margin for error here because one wrong slip and you'd be dead.

Still, if Steve could do it, you could do it better.

You weren't about to lose to his stupid ass.

"I'm not listening to him," you argued back, taking in a shaky breath as you took a step.

"He's doing reverse psychology!" she squeaked. "So you doing it is still listening to him!"

"I'm fine, Robs, I can do it," you mumbled, a slight questioning lilt at the end of your sentence.

"Look, sweetheart, it's okay to admit defeat," Steve said, cocky voice with an even cockier smile as he crossed his toned arms against his bare chest. His hair was still damp, quick to climb back up so he could get his front-row seat as he promised.

But you weren't chickening out.

Never.

"I mean, it wouldn't be the first time you lost to me so, it shouldn't sting as much."

You ignored him.

Instead, you took another step, the tips of your toes now hanging over the edge.

You can do this. Wipe that smug smirk off his face. You got this.

"Listen, you don't have to do—"

"Shut it, Harrington," you growled.

With a deep breath, you closed your eyes, counting from three, two, one…

You jumped.

-:-:-:-:-:-:-

This was stupid.

Absolutely idiotic.

He shouldn't have pressured you like that.

The jump wasn't deadly, per se, but it also wasn't exactly deemed the safest, especially if you weren't an expert in any sort of way.

And he didn't want to say it out loud because if he did, he knew it would only push you to do it more just to prove him wrong.

But Steve could see how scared you were.

He was already dropping the act, voice laced with concern as he started telling you that he wasn't worth all of this, that he was stupid and that you were always going to be better than him.

But, obviously, you didn't listen.

You simply jumped.

You and your stupidly competitive ass.

"Damn it," he cursed under his breath, rushing to the edge of the cliff, tensely watching your falling figure disappear into the water with a splash.

"You two are complete idiots."

"Shut up," Steve gritted, never looking away from the water. Yet any annoyance was quickly overpowered by sheer worry as he scanned the deep blue for anything.

There was no sign of you.

"Like seriously! It's like I'm the only one with a brain cell here!"

"Come on, come on, come on," Steve mumbled, completely ignoring Robin when you still hadn't emerged to the surface. "Come on, Y/N, don't scare me like this."

"Uh, Steve?" Robin asked after a moment, carefully looking over the cliff before shooting him a worried glance. "You look anxious and you being anxious is making me nervous."

"She hasn't come up," he grumbled, glancing at his watch.

It was nearing a minute.

"Maybe you didn't see her?"

"I haven't taken my eyes off the water, Buckley," he gritted, too harsh and uncalled for since Robin didn't do anything wrong.

But he was panicking.

A minute and thirty seconds.

"Come on, sweetheart, you can do it. You're an amazing swimmer," he whispered encouragingly, hoping some sort of magic would let you hear him underwater all while saying it aloud for his own sanity.

Two minutes.

You could never hold your breath any longer than that.

Steve knew because he always won that competition.

And that was in a calm pool.

"Shit, shit, shit!" he cursed, gearing up to dive after you. "I don't think she's coming up!"

"Okay! Okay," Robin rushed, panicking. "Maybe she's already on the shore. We should go down now and see—"

Steve didn't listen.

He jumped right after you.

The biting cold was awakening.

Still, it was the absolute fear of losing you that was keeping him alert.

He ignored the sting of the salty ocean water in his eyes as he frantically searched for you, his heart beating hard and fast, struggling for oxygen all while fearing for your safety.

Steve didn't know which came first, relief or dread when finally found you, aimlessly floating and unconscious under the deep blue.

He swam to you as fast he could, securely hooking his arm under your shoulder and dragging you up to the surface.

Steve always knew that adrenaline can give you a random boost of strength when needed. He simply didn't expect that to be proven true when he was carrying your unresponsive body in his arms as he brought you to the shore.

He gently placed you on your back on the sand, cupping your face as he checked for any injuries.

You were so cold.

"Hey, hey, wake up," he begged, grabbing your shoulders to try and shake you awake.

Nothing.

"You didn't have to make the jump, you idiot. Why do you always want to prove me wrong," he scolded with no ounce of anger, only worry. He started tapping your cheek frantically. "Come on, wake up!"

Still no response.

"Dammit, Y/N, why'd you have to be so fucking stubborn," he scolded, his voice shaking in fear, his chest tightening as he pressed two fingers against your pulse point.

His own heart stopped when he couldn't feel yours.

And you weren't breathing.

Steve tried to keep himself calm. If he panicked now, he wouldn't be able to give you the aid that you direly need.

"Come on, Harrington. You know what to do. You trained for this," he mumbled to himself, getting into the proper position to give you CPR.

He gently cupped your forehead with his left hand, his other two fingers under your chin as he tilted your head up.

"You're going to be okay," he whispered, pinching your nose before slotting his lips against yours.

Breathing into your mouth, one, two, he watched your chest rise as it filled up with air, only for it to settle back down without coming back up again. He quickly kneeled straighter, locking his fingers together and placing the heel of his left hand in the middle of your chest, pushing down with enough pressure to try and get your heart to start again.

"One, two, three, four, come on, sweetheart, breathe for me," he mumbled, easily finding the right rhythm, his first aid training as a lifeguard coming back to him like it was second nature.

Still, he never wanted to use this skill in a real-life situation, much less use it on you.

It was the longest thirty counts in his life.

Check for a pulse. Check for breathing.

Still nothing.

"Goddammit, Y/N, come on!" he growled, blinking back the tears as he pressed his mouth against yours again.

Two rescue breaths.

Thirty chest compressions.

Steve repeated the cycle over and over. His eyes were stinging with unshed tears, his knees were burning as the rough sand dug deeper into his skin, and his arms were starting to get sore, tiredness slowly covering his aching muscles.

But he'd rather die first than give up on you now.

"Steve—"

"Call for help, Robin!" he ordered, not taking his eyes off you for even a second. When he didn't hear any movement, he yelled, "Don't just stand there! Go!"

He was going to apologize for being an asshole later. For now, he needed you to fucking breathe.

"Come on, come on, please," he begged, leaning back down to give you two more rescue breaths. "Breathe for me, baby, please."

Thirty chest compressions.

"Trying to prove me wrong when I've always been wrong, you idiot."

Five, six, seven—

"Sweetheart, come on," he choked back a sob. "Who's going to call me out when I'm being stupid, huh? You know Robin can't do it alone."

Twelve, thirteen, fourteen—

"And you're really going to leave me alone to watch our kids?"

Twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two—

"Y/N, baby, please, I can't live without you," he whimpered.

Twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thir—

Steve felt his breath leave his lungs when you finally gasped for air.

He quickly turned you to your side, rubbing your back as you choked out all the ocean water that got into your system.

"There you go, you're okay," he whispered, whether to reassure you or himself, he didn't even know anymore. All he was focused on was making sure you were going to be okay.

"S-Stevie?" you coughed out the nickname that was only ever used by you.

It was the equivalent to his nickname for you—sweetheart.

Names that started out to annoy each other but the more often it was used as time passed, it only managed to grow into an endearment that held something warm underneath it. You both were quick to realize that the nicknames you had for each other weren't out of spite anymore.

Neither of you simply addressed it.

"Steady, sweetheart, I'm right here," he reassured, hurriedly getting into your line of sight to stop you from trying to turn around to face him. He gently cupped your cheek, offering you a soft smile when your gaze found him. "I'm not going anywhere."

You nodded as best as you could, your eyes clinging onto his brown ones only for them to screw shut when a shiver ran through your whole body.

"C-Cold," you stammered.

"I know, I know, come here," he said softly, guiding you to sit up before quickly settling behind you. He gently pulled you closer between his legs, his chest pressed against your back as he blanketed his body over yours, rubbing your arms to keep you as warm as possible.

You turned to face him slightly, burying your face into his neck only for you to wince at the slight movement. He quickly tried to steady you again, checking over you twice to look for any visible injury. But he couldn't find any.

"Tell me what hurts," he asked, pressing his lips against your cold forehead as he fully wrapped his arms around you.

"A-Ankle," you whimpered in pain, your grip on his waist tightening and God he hated that sound so much.

You must've rolled it when you jumped, and having landed on it when you reached the water, it definitely made it worse.

"It's okay, you're okay," he murmured, littering kisses against the side of your head to try and keep your mind off it. "Robin already called for help, they should be on their way, alright?"

You gave him a small nod, inching even closer to him, seeking as much warmth from him as possible. Your cold breath was tickling his skin but he didn’t care. Hell, you could be breathing fucking ice and he still wouldn’t give a shit.

As long as you were breathing.

"I need you to stay awake for me, okay?"

"I-I'll try," you whispered.

"First to fall asleep is the biggest loser," he mumbled, squeezing you slightly when he felt your eyes flutter close. "And you wouldn't want me to win this, babe, because I'll be a little shit about it."

"Not f-fair," you choked out a laugh.

"It's plenty fair," Steve chuckled tearfully, ignoring the sudden wetness on his cheeks. He hugged you tighter instead. "So stay awake or you'll lose to me. Again."

"Right there! They're right over there!"

Steve had never been so grateful to hear Robin's voice.

-:-:-:-:-:-:-

"So are you finally going to tell her?"

"Tell her what?" Steve questioned back, unable to take his eyes off of you, soundly sleeping in a hospital bed with your foot now wrapped in a cast.

The doctor had already checked everything and thankfully, there weren't any further injuries apart from your twisted ankle.

Now, all you needed was to rest and recover.

"That you've been in love with her this whole time."

Steve sighed, squeezing your hand before turning to look at his best friend.

"I'm not in love with her, Robs."

"Right," she scoffed, raising a knowing brow. "Because jumping off a cliff with zero hesitation so you could save her is totally normal behavior for someone you claim you hate."

"I never said I hated her," he argued, and it was true. He couldn't think of a single moment where he hated you.

"Yeah, well, you two definitely don't act like you like each other."

"Does she annoy and frustrate the shit out of me? Yes. But I never hated her," he admitted.

Steve didn't know what it was exactly, maybe it was his tiredness muddling his brain, maybe it was from everything that happened in the last couple of hours finally catching up to him, or maybe it was the overwhelming need to confess everything into the open before it was too late—and it almost had been. Either way, he found himself suddenly spewing out all the things that he always just kept to himself.

"She's also been the most constant person in my life, you know? Hell, we basically grew up together. I can't just not care about her," he continued, memories flooding his system before he could even stop it. "She's been so ingrained in my life, her and the cute dresses she wore at those stupid dinners our parents always dragged us to. Her and her stupid competitions whenever our babysitters would bring us to the park together. Her and that stupid dance she always did whenever she won at anything even if it was my expense—she always does this cute little wiggle whenever she won, and that never left her even as we got older," Steve chuckled at the thought.

"And fuck, don't even get me started with how similar our parents are. She's the only one who will always get me when it comes to that," he continued. "And yeah, we compete a lot, but there was no hatred between us. Maybe at the start but all that went away when we learned that whatever our parents were feeding us was bullshit—that they were bullshit.

"And fine, did I sometimes get so annoyed whenever she got a new boyfriend? Yeah. But only because she always had this bad habit of dating fucking assholes. I don't know where she got those dickheads from but every time I see a glimpse of her crying by her window at night I swear to fucking God I would've killed every single one of those assholes if she asked," he gritted, slumping down in his seat with a sigh.

"She deserves to be treated right, you know? She's already experiencing so much shit at home, she doesn't need any more of that anywhere else. Sure, she irritates me to no end but that doesn't mean she's not a sweet girl who always cried whenever some random pet commercial came on the TV during the holidays. Does her competitiveness drive me up the wall? Absolutely. But that doesn't mean I don't feel so fucking proud of her whenever she wins another medal or achieves another milestone. And yeah, I wonder about how she's doing, if she's taking care of herself, if she's getting enough sleep between her work and classes. But that's only because I worry, you know?

"And maybe I do think about her a lot but that doesn't mean I'm in love with…"

Steve blinked.

Well fuck.

"Wow," Robin marveled. "You're stupider than I thought."

"He hit his head as a kid, cut him some slack."

Steve paled at the sound of your voice, swiftly turning red at the thought that you probably heard all the things he said.

He turned to face you, groaning in annoyance when he saw the smug smile on your lips. "You've been awake this whole time?"

"I'll leave you two love birds alone," Robin sang, quickly slipping out of the hospital room and closing the door behind her.

"How much of that did you hear?" Steve asked, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Enough to say you're stupid," you hummed.

He rolled his eyes, leaning back in his seat with crossed arms. "I'm not the one who jumped off the cliff and almost died just to prove a fucking point."

"Yeah, well, I guess we're both stupid then," you snorted.

He shrugged. "I guess we are."

"Jesus, you don't have to act so tense. I mean, you've already given me a mouth-to-mouth, we've practically made out already," you scoffed playfully. "I honestly thought I'd die first before swapping spit with you yet here we are."

It was your attempt at alleviating the tension, to throw in a funny quip. But with everything still so fresh in his mind, Steve simply couldn't take it well.

"Don't fucking joke about that will you?" he snapped, rubbing a frustrated hand over his face.

The silence that followed only made the tension worse.

"I'm sorry," you whispered.

Steve immediately felt bad.

"No, no, no. You didn't do anything wrong, don't apologize," he sighed, meeting your eyes with an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have snapped. It's just—"

He stopped himself, chewing on his bottom as he looked everywhere but at you when he felt the tears well up again.

"Will you come here?"

Steve took a calming breath and did as you asked, moving his chair closer but didn't attempt anything else than that.

"Stevie," you called when he still wouldn't look at you.

Harshly wiping his eyes with the back of his hand, he lifted his head. You smiled at him sweetly, wiggling your fingers to get him to come even closer.

"You scared me back there," he croaked, taking your hand with a squeeze.

"I didn't mean to," you softly said, remorseful and apologetic even though you didn't have to be.

"I know," he murmured, pressing your warm palm against his cheek as he shot you a glare. "Just don't do that again."

"Promise," you giggled, stroking his cheek with your thumb.

Steve leaned closer into your touch. "How are you feeling?"

"Better, thanks to you," you hummed, brows furrowing in thought. "When Marcus got that black eye, you said it was because he was playing dirty on one of your games." You tilted your head knowingly. "That wasn't true, wasn't it?"

Steve shrugged. "He hurt you."

"It was a small bruise on the arm, Steve," you reasoned.

"He shouldn't be giving you a fucking bruise in the first place," he growled, the memory bringing back the same anger he felt when he first saw that bruise. The soft tapping of your finger against his cheek calmed him down. "Sorry."

"Did you lose on purpose to get him expelled?"

"What? No!" he scoffed, offended, rolling his eyes when you giggled. "I tried so fucking hard to win that fight, you know, for you."

"You've always been protective of me," you hummed, taking his hand and interlacing your fingers together.

"Don't think I didn't know it was you who dyed that poor girl's hair green that one year in middle school summer camp," he retaliated.

It was a sharp and piercing scream that woke up the whole camp that morning. Everyone rushed out of bed to see what was going on only to find a girl who once was blonde was now sporting bright green hair in the middle of the crowd, crying her eyes out.

Steve would've thought it was only some silly prank if he didn't know who the girl was. But he did. Because the day before he tried to ask her to be his girlfriend, only for her to turn him down in the most embarrassing and humiliating way possible.

It wasn't difficult for him to find out who the culprit was since he immediately noticed how you kept hiding your hands in your pockets for the next few days after the incident.

The counselors quickly found out that the little menace—whoever she was—decided to use permanent dye on the poor girl's hair instead of something washable.

Your green palms colored you oh so guilty.

"She called you pathetic and gross in front of everyone!" you argued, pouting. "You looked like you were about to cry and I hated it."

Steve's heart warmed at that, a smile on his face despite rolling his eyes. "I wasn't about to cry."

"Yeah well," you shrugged, eyes trained on your intertwined fingers, your thumb playing with his. "I'm the only one who's supposed to be mean to you."

"Hmm," he agreed, bringing the back of your hand to his lips. "I guess we've always been there for each other, huh?"

"I guess so," you giggled, cupping his cheek and tugging him closer.

He stood up from his seat, following your lead until he was pressing his forehead against yours.

"Thank you for saving my life, Steve," you whispered, eyes turning glossy as so many emotions covered your irises, the weight of what almost happened catching up with you.

"You don't have to thank me for that," he said sincerely, brushing the tip of his nose against yours. "I'd do it over and over again in a heartbeat."

You nodded, sniffling, "Still, thank you."

Steve wasn't able to argue some more when you all but kissed him.

The first time Steve felt your mouth on his was a horrible experience considering he was trying to keep you alive.

Now, everything was the complete opposite.

A kiss that was careful but sweet, a hint of nervousness and excitement all the same, completely unhurried yet burning with passion as his lips molded against yours.

But still, it felt like that first gasp of air—a finally.

"I'm in love with you, too, by the way," you murmured as you pulled away, your warm breath tickling his lips.

"Thanks for clarifying," he chuckled, eyes laced with adoration, unable to stop his smile from growing wider, warmer. "I couldn't figure that out from the kiss."

"I mean, you are kinda stupid," you teased.

"We're on that same boat, sweetheart," he chuckled. "I'm sure Robin would remind us about that every single day now."

"Unfortunately," you groaned playfully. "God, she gets annoying when she's right."

"Tell me about it," he hummed, brushing his lips against yours, moving away when you chased it.

You whined.

Steve didn't hesitate to dive back in.

✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ♛ *.

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[r-o-s-e-f-i-r-e]

ok so beach lifeguard captain steve who loves the water loves his job drives the gator between all the towers setting up equipment in the morning and waves at every chubby baby he passes. eddie who comes to stay with wayne for the summer in his little coastal tourist town & work in his auto shop

(except when wayne had called him it hadn't actually been a request: "you can come stay for the summer," he'd said, after eddie's dad had been booked again, after the cops had agreed to drop the charges against eddie; eddie knew it actually meant "get your ass down here.")

"lotta kids your age hang out at the beach," wayne says, when eddie shows up with his van and his guitar and a massive chip on his shoulder and the vague, overwhelming sense of dread that he's balanced precariously between two possible futures, that if his attention falters for even a second or he stumbles the wrong way he could end up like - well. and another part of him that sounds way more like his dad than he wants to admit, whispering: 'why don't you just fuck it up and get it over with.'

so. he grits his teeth and does oil changes for rich old biddies in sun visors and practices guitar until his fingers bleed because he's going to get out, he is, he's going to fucking make it, and walks to the library every few days to exchange his current stack of pulpy fantasy paperbacks for a new one and that's where he meets robin buckley. grade a band nerd, clumsiest person he's ever met in his life, teaching herself mandarin for fun, unexpectedly best friends with --

"no, really, he's a good guy," robin says, at the diner across the street from the library. "i know he has the whole," robin makes a vague jazzy gesture towards her torso and face and then exaggerates pushes her hair out of her eyes the way eddie has seen steve harrington do.

"but he's, like, my best friend," she continues, shoving eddie's fries in her mouth. "and a total dingus, don't let the baywatch bit fool you. and you'll like nancy and jonathan too, and his friend argyle has a MASSIVE stash of weed he's bringing--"

"i'm in," eddie says immediately. and then he goes back to the shop and rotates mrs. henderson's tires for her and thinks about what the fuck one even wears to a bonfire on the fucking beach and definitely does not think about steve, who of course he'd seen on his meandering evening beach walks, when the day had cooled down and the dune grass shimmered in the blue light and steve would jump in the ocean for one final swim, diving cleanly through a wave, coming up and tossing his fucking hair back, before coming back up to the lifeguard stand, dripping wet, toweling off --

[rustedhearts]

Head Over Heels (Boxer!Steve x Librarian!fem reader)

summary: you meet the handsome boxer Steve Harrington at a party. he falls head over heels for you instantly.

uses she/her pronouns and female anatomy.

♡ the steve collection ♡

author’s note: if you’re new to this series (since i didn’t write chronologically but this is the first fic): the reader’s name is “libby” which is just a stand-in for “librarian.” it’s still you!

warnings: fluff, casual dominance (yes, even from the start), steve being uncharacteristically sweet and nervous

hawkins, indiana july, 1989

The house seemed to be a rotation of young, twenty-something year olds, and the upbeat thump of the radio’s biggest hits. Right now, the stereo was blasting Rick Springfield, and though you knew the song and hummed the words, you couldn’t find it in yourself to dance. Instead, you remained seated in the La-Z Boy in the corner of the living room, watching your friend twirl between different men. You’ve been out of high school for two months, and she’d already been through a handful of them. You were by far the youngest here, and though you usually wouldn’t be so easily intimidated by a crowd, you were when you locked eyes on him.

Steve Harrington.

About thirty minutes ago—as your gaze wandered the room, chin in palm with boredom numbing your brain—you spotted him. Through the thick sea of people wading back and forth, on the other side of the wide living room, Steve Harrington lounged on a gingham sofa. Cigarette in hand, sunglasses tucked in the collar of his navy blue polo, biceps bulging and straining against the cuffs.

He looked just as handsome as he did four years ago, when he graduated from Hawkins High as swim team captain and resident heartbreaker. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t stop and stare at each one of his photographs in the display case near the gym.

Since he graduated, Steve started boxing. The town gossip usually fixated around him and his new career, and when he had his first big title fight in Indianapolis last year, Hawkins displayed a giant poster of him at town hall. Now, rumor had it they were asking for Steve in other cities around America, impressed by his violent skills.

And now he was staring at you. You shifted in the chair, cheeks warming under his steady gaze. The thump of the music found home in your chest, the rhythmic beat of your heart so forceful and intense that you felt flushed all over. You waited a beat, and looked up again. He was still looking. A girl walked in front of you, and as her blue skirt flitted by, Steve tipped his head to find you around the obstruction.

Your lips cracked into a giddy smile. He was watching you. At the sight of your pleasure, Steve mirrored it: a half-mouthed grin that softened the intensity of his brooding features. It was princely and handsome, and your smile only broadened knowing that it was directed at you. Steve took a drag of his cigarette, tipped his head back in place, and drew his arm across the back of the sofa. His eyes never left your figure, tucked in the armchair in a floral cardigan and denim shorts. Your sneakers were perfectly white and tidily knotted.

In a room full of blazing neon blue and painful bubblegum pink, you were soft and glowing. If he was being honest, Steve had been watching you for a while now—watching you glance around the room with your lip between your teeth, playing with the white laces on your Reeboks, fiddling with the most adorable pair of tortoise shell glasses perched on your nose. You hadn't spoken to anyone since you entered the room, but when you thought no one was watching, you sang along to the songs playing on the stereo. At first, he glanced over on accident, but he found himself mesmerized by your quiet grace and natural beauty.

Stomach flip-flopping and heart thumping, you inhaled shakily and tried to tear your eyes away from the handsome boxer. You weren't clueless—you'd heard all about his promiscuous (whoreish) antics all throughout high school and beyond. There's no way someone like that would bother with you.

Just as you swiveled the chair for a change of scenery, a boy nearby stumbled back into the arm of the chair, tipping his red solo cup onto your leg. You gasped at the cold, sticky beer sloshing over your bare thigh, leaping from the chair just as the boy jumped back.

"Oh, shit, I'm so sorry, are you—"

"—hey! Why don't you watch where the fuck you're goin'?" A new voice suddenly barked over the music.

Heads turned and cheeks warmed (mostly yours, now blazing hot and fiery) at the sight of Steve Harrington standing beside you, glaring sharply at the perpetrator with an empty cup of beer. Steve's hand cupped around your elbow to pull you away, and the rough touch of his big, warm palm had you shivering.

"S-sorry, man, I didn't mean to."

Steve only waved his hand, head shaking as he dismissed the beer-spiller. The younger boy skittered away, and when he was gone, Steve turned to you. His hand hadn't left your arm and you couldn't stop blushing. Your entire body felt like it was on fire. God, were you sweating through your shirt? Beer was still running down your leg and into your white socks.

"You okay?" Steve asked, brows furrowed.

You swallowed, nodding mutely. Steve looked you over, frowning at the beer on your leg. He snatched a napkin from the coffee table nearby and watched you rub it over your leg.

"Fuckin' idiot," he huffed, eyes flitting back up to yours then. His cheeks suddenly pinkened. "I...Sorry, I just...I came rushing over—I'm Steve."

Left hand on your arm, he extended his right for you to shake, and your smile returned as you peered at it. A musical giggle bubbled out of you as you clasped it in a gentle shake, flashing that pretty smile that his knees buckling. His chest felt so tight and odd. Something ached in his throat. Your hand was soft, and up close, you smelled like something sweet and floral—lilacs. Lilacs and...beer. Your lips were shiny against the yellow lamplight.

"I'm Libby," you declared.

Steve inhaled sharply. Your fingers slipped away and he found his eyes chasing them. Jesus, what the fuck's wrong with you Harrington? He only had one beer, he wasn't drunk—but he surely felt like he was. His head felt light and full of air. He's staring at you for too long, now.

Clearing his throat, Steve ran his hand through the front of his hair—long, chestnut brown, fanned outward behind his ear—and motioned toward your beer leg.

"Should I—do you want—if you want, we can...get out of here? If you're not...doin' anything? The, um, music's givin' me a headache anyway." What the hell, Harrington?

Steve clenched his teeth and exhaled sharply through his nose. You were just so much prettier up close. He could barely think with your eyes blinking up at him from behind those glasses. And blink you did (in disbelief) at his proposal. Your mouth ran dry, heart on your tongue, palms slick with sweat, stomach bloated with butterflies.

All you could do was nod for a moment, before you swallowed once more and finally found your words. "Yes. Y-yes, I'd like that."

It was hard for Steve to contain the joyous grin that broke out on his face, but he did his best. It showed face with another lopsided smirk, and then Steve was stepping back to motion toward the door.

"After you."

It was exquisite, to be leaving a house party with half your senior class and a group of random twenty-something year olds watching Steve Harrington trail after you. Heads turned to watch the two of you head toward the door, mouths moving rapidly to murmur about the predicament. Steve's friends hollered after him in search of explanation, but Steve never even stopped to justify.

He opened the door, smiled, and waited for you to pass through.

♡ ♡

After deliriously wandering along the sidewalk for about ten minutes, the both of you decided that the refreshment situation at the party was dastardly—and you were starving. Steve immediately questioned what your favorite food was, promising you whatever you liked. As you approached the town square, suddenly all you could think of was Tony's, the tiny mom-and-pop pizza parlor on the corner next to Melvald's.

Steve pulled your chair out and pushed it back in once you were seated, and as you waited for your greasy cheese pizza to share, set his eyes upon you with eager attention. Your shoulders squeezed together, lips pursing to conceal a smile, and your eyes touched the wooden table with nerves reddening your face.

"What?" you squeaked under his stare.

Steve eased back into his chair, head cocking toward his shoulder. You peeked up through your lashes and watched his eyes roll over you. He took his lip between his teeth and shook his head as though in disbelief.

"Just lookin' at you," he graveled.

You giggled, reaching up on the table to grab the paper straw wrapper, playing with it in your lap to ground yourself. He was so handsome. His shoulders were broad and muscular, and he smelled like something musky and manly. You didn't even mind the cigarettes. Something about them sticking out of his back pocket made your heart flutter. Your mother would lose her mind.

After a moment of silence and low jazz on the stereo overhead, you piped up. "Is your head any better?"

Steve furrowed his brows for a moment, before they relaxed and he grinned. "Oh, s' fine. I get 'em a lot, headaches. Comes with the territory. I'm a—"

"—a boxer. I know," you murmured sheepishly, ducking under his raised eyebrows.

"Oh, is that so?" Steve squinted amusedly, tapping his finger on the table.

Your eyes followed, admiring the wideness of his hands, the slender length of his fingers. He wore a brown leather-banded watch around his wrist, and you swallowed at the sight of it.

"Yeah. It's...kind of hard to miss your face on the side of the Super Mart." You giggled.

Steve's cheeks reddened, a chuckle huffing out of him. He scratched at the nape of his neck and shifted in his seat.

"Yeah. Yeah, you got me there. And, uh, what do you do?"

He watched you perk up, hands tucked under your thighs. Pride seemed to glimmer in your eyes as you tipped your chin up and smiled nervously.

"I'm a librarian. I started last summer just for fun, and when I graduated they gave me a full time position."

Steve's eyes flitted over you adoringly again. A librarian made so much sense.

"And you like it?"

You bobbed your head eagerly, eyes rounding behind the reflective lenses of your glasses.

"I love it. I love books, so...I guess that helps." You laughed.

A waiter in a black t-shirt and jeans came to table and slid a metal tray with a steaming, gooey, and glistening pizza on it between the two of you. When he was gone, Steve grabbed one of the plates at the head of the table and pointed to the tray.

"How many do you want?"

Your cheeks swelled with heat again. "Two, please."

He handed you the slices, and you waited until he had four of his own to begin biting at yours. You took tiny, delicate bites, and Steve watched over the pull of his white cheese as you paused to sip at your water occasionally. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but there was something gentle about the way you moved. He could still smell your lilac scent.

"What's your favorite book?" Steve mumbled around a mouthful of cheese.

Your eyes popped over to him, surprised at the question. In all honesty, you were surprised he hadn't chuckled at your occupation. Most of the boys you'd gone out with poked fun at it—or made inappropriate jokes about bending you over in your cardigan and pencil skirt. You were either terribly sexualized or laughed at.

But Steve Harrington did neither.

"Oh, um...ever? Or right now?"

Steve chuckled, wiping his shiny fingers on a thin napkin crumpled beside his plate. "I didn't know you could have both."

You beamed. "Of course you can. My favorite book changes the more I read."

Steve smiled, watching you swoop down for another bite of your nibbled pizza.

"I'm not much of a reader," he explained. "I was never very good at it."

You shrugged, wiping your own fingers.

"That's okay. I'm sure I wouldn't be very good at boxing."

Steve chuckled, reaching over the table squeeze your bare bicep. He smelled like pizza and Marlboros and he was so pretty. You always thought his eyes were brown in the dully-colored photographs at school—but in the fluorescents of the pizza parlor, they held sparks of olive and gold, more hazel than anything. His lips were plump and pink and soft and he had a bruise on the underside of his jaw that you hadn't seen until now.

"With these muscles? I think you could give me a run for my money."

You giggled, rubbing at your arm where his touch was when it disappeared back into his lap.

"Should we bet on it?"

Steve placed his elbows on the table and leaned forward. "Whatever you want, baby."

Your entire face felt like the surface of the sun, and you did your best to hide your smile in a mouthful of pizza. But his flirtatious stare caused a giggle to burst through, and you felt like you were in fifth grade passing notes to your crush all over again. Steve cocked his head again, the smallest tip to the left.

"What?" you pouted, riddled with anxiety at his stare.

Steve arched his brows, holding his empty hands up. "I'm just lookin' at you."

You shifted on your chair, gazing down at your plate. Steve tipped his chin down to follow.

"You're nice to look at," he murmured gently.

You were certain you'd never felt this giddy before. You tucked your hair behind your ear and played the ends anxiously, gnawing on the inside of your cheek. Your stomach rumbled with hunger but you couldn’t find it in yourself to eat. Steve was too handsome, too pretty, too sweet.

And though he looked a little mean if he didn’t plaster on a smile, and the sheer size of him made you nervous, and the sound of his voice, gruff and unemotional even with the sweetest sentiment, made you shiver and squirm and your stomach ache—you could tell that beneath that broody exterior, Steve Harrington was a kind and loving man.

You could see it in the way he coaxed you to eat just one more slice of pizza, and offered to refill your Coke once it was down to the ice. It spoke through the way he collected your trash and pulled out your chair, and held the door open for you in the wild whipping wind. He moved you to the inner position on the sidewalk so you weren’t near the road, and wrapped his arm around your shoulders at every crosswalk.

He was an attentive listener, and didn’t seem the least bit bored when you went on a rant about why Virginia Woolf was better than Jane Austen, but why it wasn’t fair to compare the two all the same. He was humble with his boxing stories, and refrained from boasting about his current undefeated status across America.

“I have a fight comin’ up in Cleveland, actually,” Steve said.

You trailed along the streets through the town square, past the closed shops and darkened window displays. The street lights bathed the mostly-barren road in a soft white glow. Your fingers had been brushing together for the past twenty minutes since your departure from the pizza parlor, but you were both too nervous to join hands. Steve didn’t any to push, and you didn’t want to assume.

“Oh, that’s cool,” you beamed, tipping your head back to gaze at him. “How many cities have you fought in now?”

Steve pursed his lips, humming lowly. “Fifteen, I think, but some are in the same states, so…s’ nothin’ too special. My coach says I might be goin’ big time soon, though. Like…bigger than state clubs.”

You smiled, scuffling to a stop near the movie theater entrance. Under the glowing yellow bulbs of the promotion sign, Steve turned to face you.

“I’m happy for you, Steve. It seems like you’re really passionate about it. Which means it is special.”

Steve gave a sheepish shrug, stepping closer. You could smell him again, feel the warmth from his buttoned chest. You swallowed as his eyes moved to your mouth.

“S’ the only thing I’m good at.”

At your side, he brushed his fingers against your wrist. Your breath hitched, eyes rounding in delight. Steve took that as a sign to slip his fingers into your palm, and when it flowered open in invitation, he wove your fingers together.

“I’m sure that’s not true,” you whispered.

Steve smiled, reaching with his free hand to tuck a strand of hair falling in your eyes behind your ear. The side of his knuckle grazed the arch of your ear, trailing down the side of your neck. You straightened at the wandering touch, skin buzzing with warmth and excitement. Steve followed his touch all down your neck. When his hand fell to your shoulder, he took it away, and met your gaze again. His was soft, round, warm and gentle. He had the faintest collection of hair above his lip.

“You’re so pretty,” he confessed quietly.

You could have burst with delight. Though it was always implied when boys took you on dates, or made out with you in the back of their cars in the gymnasium parking lot, rarely had anyone told you how beautiful they found you. Rarely, in the company of a man, had you ever felt it.

But standing under Steve Harrington’s gaze, you felt like the most beautiful girl in the world.

“Steve?”

Steve seemed surprised by the sound of his name coming out of your mouth. His eyes widened.

“Yeah?”

You smiled a soft, shy smile, and tipped your chin down. “Can you…can you kiss m—“

Two fingers curled under your chin and lifted your head before you could finish, and then a mouth attached itself to yours. Steve’s mouth: warm and soft and filled with the aftertaste of pizza and a faint, few-hours-ago trace of tobacco. You squeezed your eyes shut and sighed against his cheek, tipping your head to meet the ministrations of his mouth. Your hand squeezed tighter around his. His fingers left your chin to cup your cheek. He handled you like something delicate and special.

You broke away when the air grew thin, and each of your eyes fluttered open to blink dazedly into each other’s flushed, swollen-mouthed faces. You brought your free hand to your mouth and giggled against your fingers. Steve’s smile was broad and boyish, and he gently stroked his thumb against your cheek.

“Like that?”

You nodded your head quickly. “Exactly like that.”

♡ ♡

Your spontaneous date with Steve Harrington came accompanied by a restless night of sleep. You tossed and turned and kicked your sheets, mind full of images of Steve kissing you under the streetlights, and again on your porch when he walked you to the door. You scrawled your number on the back of an old receipt, and, unbeknownst to you, Steve stared at it in his hand all night.

The morning came sticky and hot, with a soft golden sun that filtered through your floral curtains and cast pink blobs across your sheets. You were finally sleeping peacefully, drooling onto your pillowcase, sprawled out across your ruffled bedspread, when the phone shrilled downstairs. You groaned at the sound, burying your face deeper into the pillow. Your mother, flipping pancakes in the kitchen, answered the phone.

Less than a minute later, she poked her head into your room.

"Honey?" she cooed.

A moment passed without response.

"Honey, it's for you."

Blearily, you rolled onto your back and grunted.

"Whois it," you slurred, dazed from sleep.

"Someone named Steve? He said—"

You jumped out of bed, hurriedly shoving your feet into your ratty bunny slippers. You practically flew down the stairs and into the kitchen, where your father was reading the newspaper at the table. He furrowed his brows over the rim of his glasses as you picked up the phone and rubbed your eyes free of sleep.

"Hello?" Suddenly, the sleepy mumble of your voice was gone—replaced with a chipper coo.

"Hey, beautiful."

Your cheeks immediately bloomed pink, and you glanced over your shoulder toward your father at the table. You slipped into the dining room, stretching the coiled cord as you went.

"Hi."

Steve chuckled. "Hi. I'm sorry for calling so early, I just...I was hoping I could see you again."

Easing back against the floral wallpaper of the dining room, you took your lip between your teeth and held your breath. A flutter entered your chest.

"Libby?"

You released your breath and swallowed. "Yes, I...I'd love to see you again. When were you—"

"—what are you doing right now?"

For Steve Harrington, your answer was nothing. You were doing nothing at all but rushing to your room and readying for a morning full of him. When the doorbell chimed, you breezed down the staircase in a white sundress and what Steve still called 'the fuckin' cutest' pair of powder blue kitten heels. Through the frosted glass of your front door, Steve was a blob of white and blue and a pop of vibrant pink—swinging open the door, you realized the pink were a large bouquet of pink peonies.

"Oh, Steve," you gasped, eyes wild with delight.

Steve's cheeks burned, holding them out by the stems. In the kitchen, your mother peered around the corner to snoop. You collected the flowers in your arms and beamed at him. The faintest smile touched his lips, but inside, he was melting. The back of his white t-shirt already gathered with sweat.

"They're beautiful."

Steve didn't know a fucking thing about flowers, but if they got him a reaction like that, he'd buy you a bouquet every day for the rest of his life.

"I'm glad you like them."

You drove this time, tucked neatly into the passenger seat of his burgundy BMW. He parked on the curb of Laurie's Diner and held your hand until you were seated in a vinyl booth pressed up against the window. You plucked a laminated menu from the table and flapped it open, looking over the options. Your hair was pretty today, and Steve found himself flitting between his menu and your head, unable to take his eyes away. It caught the light in such a glorious way.

"I'm not very fond of omelets, but I love scrambled eggs. But then, French toast sounds good, especially now that strawberries are ripe," you rambled, with a certain air to your voice that made everything sound like poetry.

Steve felt like he couldn't breathe just watching you read a fucking breakfast menu. You were still gazing down at it, brow furrowing frustratedly at your own indecision.

"Steve?"

Steve blinked back to reality, cheeks blazing hot again. "Sorry. Just lookin' at you again."

You giggled, hiding a blush behind the menu. Steve set his down, flipping over his coffee mug.

"Get all of it, if you want. French toast, scrambled eggs, pancakes—whatever you want," he declared.

You closed your menu, placing it on the table. "Really?"

Steve shrugged, tossing his arm on the back of the booth. His watch glinted in the sun and temporarily blinded you.

"Really. Whatever you want, angel, s' on me."

The new nickname made your stomach flip, and you toyed with the ends of your utensils to avoid meeting his amused gaze.

"Only if we share."

Steve chuckled. "Fine by me."

You grinned, sliding your menu toward the end of the table with a new sense of determination and cheery delight.

"I hope you can eat, champ."

When the food came—pancakes, scrambled eggs, fried eggs, French toast, two kinds of muffins, sausage, hash browns, and practically every drink on the menu—the two of you made good on your deal and split it fairly evenly. Steve was surprised at how much you could put away, watching with raised brows as you finished your fourth pancake and third egg.

All the while, you made him laugh. You told him about the library—which he never imagined to be such a fun place but you made it sound like DisneyWorld—and when you asked him about boxing, you seemed genuinely interested.

"So...you can knock someone's teeth out?"

Steve reached over and took the strawberry jam from your hands, twisting the lid off and holding it out.

"Mhm, and I have. It's a rite of passage, only a matter of time until mine are gone."

You giggled, dropping dollops of jam on your plate as you scooped it with a butterknife from Steve's palm.

"I hope not."

When your toast had been buttered and jammed, you took a bite, and held the other half out to Steve. The two of you seemed to move with the comfort and familiarity of a five year relationship, never pausing to anticipate, never stopping to wonder—you just knew. You knew what Steve was going to do before he did it, and he knew what you were going to say before the words even came out of your mouth.

Your stomaches burned from laughter and your cheeks throbbed from blushing, and it was as Steve watched you hiccup from too many giggles that he suddenly could no longer ignore the weeping ache of his heart.

"I really like you," he murmured softly.

But over the chime of the bell above the door, and the chatter of diner eaters, and the clank of dishes and utensils, those words were all you heard. You smiled, full-mouthed and pretty, and reached over the table for his hand. Between the half empty plate of scrambled eggs and a bowl of blueberries, your fingers intertwined.

Steve really liked you. And he knew, as you collected his mouth in a syrup-sticky kiss, that in no time, Steve would love you, too.

♡ ♡