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unfinishedslurs · 2 years

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gay bar (steddie)

“Well, well, well,” says a voice from behind. “Steeeeeeve Harrington. I must be dreaming.”

Steve turns around to see a guy, dressed in black and chains. Rings decorating his fingers, studs in his ears, curly hair pulled back in a ponytail. He’s hot, yeah, but something about him has Steve squinting, trying to figure out why he looks so familiar.

“I know you from somewhere,” he says, pointing out the obvious. The guy knows his name.

The not-a-stranger snorts. “Of course you don’t remember me. Why would the likes of King Steve stoop to—“

As soon as the nickname leaves his mouth, Steve’s brain lights up. “Munson!” He exclaims, snapping his fingers. “You used to climb on the lunch tables to give speeches.”

It was so obnoxious, too. The kind of thing that had him and Robin reminiscing late at night, celebrating some of the weirder shit about Hawkins that didn’t come from monsters, or Russians, or government conspiracy. Remember that one asshole? Yeah, he stepped on my lunch one time!

Condolences to Robin’s pb&j. She never sat at that table again.

Munson’s whole face turns pink. “Seriously? That’s what you remember?”

“It was pretty fucking memorable, dude. Like, gross, doesn’t this guy know not to put his feet where people eat? Dustin thought you were so cool for it too. I had to nip that in the bud before he started imitating you or some shit.”

“Oh,” he says, voice gone flat. “Because God forbid some poor kid try to immolate the freak.”

Steve gives him his bitchiest, most deadpan stare. “Feet,” he says slowly. “Nasty, fifteen year old boy feet. On my kitchen table. He almost slipped and cracked his skull, and I would have sent you the hospital bill.”

He had to get creative to make him stop, too. Stood there, hands on his hips, and made Dustin tell him exactly how many germs he thought were on his shoes. Then when he tried to do it barefoot, decided the only course of action was to stuff Dustin’s abandoned sock in his mouth and ask if he wanted that shit with every meal. Erica still has the photos.

Munson has the decency to look embarrassed, face flooding an even brighter red that wouldn’t be out of place in a tomato patch. “What are you even doing here, Harrington?”

What does he think Steve’s doing here? It’s a fucking gay bar, it’s pretty self explanatory. “My friend is here somewhere,” he says, waving out at the crowd of people. “She’s going through a dry spell, so…”

“Right,” Munson says. Steve squints at him. Does he look disappointed?

Eh. Doesn’t matter.

“You gave my kids the best freshman year of their nerdy little lives,” he tells him, because he knows Dustin would want him to. Plus, the guy was Mike’s gay awakening. He should probably get some credit. “So thanks for that.”

He lights up. “Yeah! How was Hellfire in my absence?”

“I had to hear them bitch and moan for months about how it ‘wasn’t the same,’ but it’s doing pretty all right. Erica Sinclair is running it now.”

“Erica Sinclair…” Munson mutters, snapping his fingers. “Lucas Sinclair’s little sister? Lady Applejack?” He beams when Steve nods. “She kicked ass. Best finish to a campaign my entire high school career. How’s Lucas, anyway? And the rest of the runts.”

“He’s doing great,” Steve says. “College basketball at Yale. Pretty sure he’s dying under the workload, but that’s what you get for majoring in physics. Dustin’s at MIT, and Mike’s taking a gap year.”

He whistles lowly. “Yeesh, I don’t blame him. How about Byers?”

“Which one?”

“Zombie boy.” Steve’s hackles raise, but Munson just grins. “God, that nickname was badass.”

“How do you even know about that?”

Munson taps the side of his nose. “A magician never reveals his secrets. Besides, all it took for you to remember me was calling you by your high school nickname.”

“That wasn’t my nickname.” Steve rolls his eyes. “Literally three people ever actually called me that, and you were one of them.”

He has a feeling it was Tommy who started it, bitter and vicious. Told himself Steve was self possessed, high and mighty, above it all. That’s why he left his old friends behind. Not because he was in love, or because he wanted to be better. No, King Steve just sits alone in his castle, looking down on the peasants with contempt.

Billy must have taken his angry ramblings and run with them. After all, what better way to get a start in a new town than declaring yourself royalty? Never mind that Steve hadn’t cared about anything like that for almost a year by then.

Munson had just been a drama-loving asshole.

“That can’t be right.”

“I stopped being popular in junior year. Why the hell would anyone call a sophomore King?” Steve points out.

“You were Prom King.”

“Again, in junior year. Pickings were slim. Who else would it have been? Tommy?” He has to laugh.

Luckily, Munson takes the hint and swerves the conversation into new territory. “You know, I always figured you’d be homophobic.”

Steve snorts. “What, and get kicked out for nothing?”

Munson stares at him, and Steve furrows his brow, looking into his glass like it will have the answer to why the hell he said that to this guy he barely knows. He just decided he wasn’t going to spill all his daddy issues to a near-stranger in a dingy bar, dammit. Is he already on his fifth drink?

Actually, this might be his sixth. That tracks.

“What?”

“My dad caught me kissing a boy,” he says. If he’s going to give Munson his life story, he might as well commit. “Can you believe that boy ruined my life in three different ways? Two of them didn’t even have anything to do with the gay thing.”

Maybe four ways, if you accounted for the way he broke his goddamn heart, but everyone and their mother saw that coming a mile away. Even Steve. Especially Steve.

No offense to Jonathan. None of those things were really his fault. Or actually life ruining, but it sure fucking felt like it at the time.

He should give him a call soon, actually, see how he and Argyle are doing. He misses the guy. Maybe he and Robin should save up for a visit to Cali. Get Nancy on it. They could see San Francisco while they were there, that’d be cool. Apparently it was the queer capital of the country.

He’s thinking about asking the bartender for a napkin and a pen to write down the plans he’s forming when Munson speaks up again. Steve honestly forgot he was here.

“I thought you said you were here for a friend.”

What?” Steve blinks, confused, and then catches on. “Yeah, to get her laid. I’m not in the mood right now.”

Munson cocks an eyebrow. “Wearing that? Could’ve fooled me.”

Steve looks down at his Springsteen T-Shirt that Robin cropped, and picks at the frayed hem of his shorts. Okay, yeah, they’re on the skimpy side, but in his defense it’s summer and even if he’s not cruising Steve likes being looked at. “Yeah, yeah. What about you? Here for anything in particular?”

“Just to talk to some pretty boys,” Munson says, leaning on the bar to flag down the bartender. Steve smirks, reaching out a hand to tug at the hanky in his back pocket. Pinned, damn.

Munson whirls around, a flush starting to crawl onto his ears.

“Wearing that?” Steve echos snarkily. “Could’ve fooled me.”

He swears that for a minute Munson’s eyes darken.

He’s almost tempted to follow through, high school reputation be damned, when someone crashes into his side and nearly sends him careening.

“Steeeeeve,” Robin yells happily into his ear. “This is Bernie, she’s gonna take me home, see you la—oh, hi!” She says, noticing Munson. “I know you from somewhere.”

“Eddie Munson,” Munson greets. “Steve and I went to high school together.”

“Munson! That’s it, you climbed on tables and had shit music. I’m Robin. Okay, I’ll call the apartment and leave a message when we get there. Bernie’s waiting on me, it’s-nice-to-meet-you-bye!” Just like that, she’s gone.

Munson’s mouth has dropped open. “You told her I had shit music?” He demands. “Wait, you talked about me?”

“She went to school with us, dumbass,” he says, as if he can talk. He still barely remembers her as more than a vague, glowering figure in his peripheral. “It’s not my fault you blasted your screamy music for everyone in the parking lot. Such a fucking headache, God.”

Munson turns his nose up. “Sorry for having offended your jock sensibilities.”

“Oh, I don’t play anymore,” he says, and knocks on his head. “Concussions, yanno. Apparently brain damage will fuck you up. Who knew?”

“What, like the fight you had with Byers? He did you that bad?”

“He did me just fine,” Steve blurts out, before he can stop himself. Munson chokes. “Shit, sorry, I’m kind of a horny drunk.” Weird thing to say, Steve. “Also, I cannot stress enough how much I needed to be punched in the face. It was a monumental moment for me, you know. Started me on the path for changing my entire worldview. Plus, he was my first guy crush.” He swirls his empty glass, lost in thought, before brightening up. “I should call him!”

Munson is staring at him, mouth opening and closing like a fish.

“What?”

“You’re drunk.”

“Well, yeah. Duh.”

“I should probably stop you from booty-calling the guy who punched you in the face.”

Steve wrinkles his nose. “It wouldn’t be a booty-call,” he says. “He and Argyle are happy together, man. I’m not gonna ruin that.”

“Oh, so you’d call him because…”

“I call him all the time,” Steve says, confused as to why this is such a big deal. “We’re friends.”

“Jonathan!” He yells happily into the pay phone. Munson is standing to the side, looking on in annoyance. Whatever, it’s not like Steve asked him to do this. “Jonathan, man, how are you?”

“…Steve?”

“Yeah!”

“It’s like…” he hears something clatter in the background, like Jonathan is looking for something, “two in the morning there. You okay?”

“I’m doing great!” He exclaims. “How about you? It’s been ages, man, I miss you.”

“This is so fucking weird,” Munson whispers behind him. Steve ignores him.

“Are you drunk?”

“No,” he says. “Well, maybe a little. Do you not miss me too?” He pouts, and Jonathan sighs loud enough he hears it over the phone.

“I just talked to you yesterday.”

Steve frowns. “Yesterday? That can’t be right, it’s been, like, forever. Oh, hey, have you heard from Nance lately? How’s your mom? I love your mom, she’s so fucking cool. Does she know I think she’s cool? How’s Will? It’s been so long, is he taller than me yet? How’s Argyle doing with his degree? I miss you guys.”

“We miss you too, Steve.”

“Awww, Byers, getting soppy on me? Gross, man.”

“You literally just—yeah, okay. Are you alone?”

“Nah, I’ve got this guy with me, he’s walking me home. Oh! Dude, do you remember Munson?”

“Munson?”

“Yeah, Eddie Munson! From high school! The one who used to climb on tables and shit, remember him?”

“Jesus Christ,” Munson groans. “Please let that die.”

“No one is dying,” Steve informs him seriously, and turns back to the phone. Munson sighs.

“Wasn’t he a drug dealer?”

“Yes! Yeah, drug dealer Munson! Did you ever buy from him?” He turns to where Munson is looking around furtively. “Did Jonathan ever buy from you?”

“How about we not talk about this here,” Munson says through gritted teeth. Steve sighs and turns back to the phone.

“Never mind, he says he doesn’t want to talk about that. Not like we can judge him, but whatever. Maybe the guy’s turned into a prude—“

“Okay, give me that.” Munson wrestles the phone out of his hand, and Steve whines at him. “Hey, Byers,” Munson says. “Yeah, it’s Eddie. Or Munson. Whatever. Listen, I’m getting kind of sick of standing here watching Harrington slobber all over the receiver, can he call you tomorrow? What? No, I don’t sell anymore—yeah, total bummer, whatever. Listen, I’ll get him home safe—no, I’m not going to serial murder him. He’s gonna be fine, he’ll call you tomorrow—Nancy Wheeler? Like that girl he dated? Didn’t you—shoot me? Jesus, okay! I’m not gonna kill the guy, Christ. He’s gonna be fine, oh my God. He’ll call you tomorrow. Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Yeah, okay. Bye.” He slams the phone into its holder with more than a little contempt.

“Hey!” Steve protests. “You didn’t let me say bye.”

“You can call him tomorrow and apologize,” Munson says. “Now c’mon, Harrington. I’ve been tasked with getting you home safe, and if I fail, apparently Nancy fucking Wheeler is going to shoot me in the balls.”

“Oh, yeah, she’s really hot when she does that,” Steve says fondly, and Munson splutters.

“What, does Wheeler just go around shooting people? Does she even have a gun?”

“Of course Nancy has a gun.” Steve frowns. It was one of the sure things in the universe at this point. The sky is blue, Hawkins is fucked up, and Nancy Wheeler has a gun. “And she doesn’t shoot people, stupid. Well, she shot at Billy, but he deserved it.”

“Billy?” Munson mutters, starting to usher Steve in the direction of home. “Who the fuck is Billy?”

“He was trying to kill her first!” Steve defends. “I hit him with a car before he could, so she was okay.”

“Okay, yeah, sure. Why wouldn’t you hit some guy with a car?

“It wasn’t some guy,” Steve says. “It was Billy. He was, like, possessed or some shit. Oh, and he beat me up. Total psycho. And that was before the melted flesh monster.”

Munson stops and stares at him. “You know what, sure. Demonic possession. Yeah, okay. Some guy named Billy kicked your ass—wait, are you talking about Billy Hargrove?”

Steve lights up. “Yeah! You remember that? That’s one of the concussions I was talking about. I gotta wear glasses 'cuza that shit. Man, fuck that guy.”

“Didn’t he die?”

“Oh, yeah,” Steve frowns down at the ground. “Shit, I’m, like, speaking ill of the dead, aren’t I? Max wouldn't like that. Unfuck him, or whatever.”

“You wanna come up?” He asks. “For old times sake?”

Munson stares at him like it’s the craziest thing he’s said all evening. “‘Old times’ was your asshole friends calling me a satan worshiper and pushing me around in hallways, Harrington.”

“I know.” He grins. If he was sober he’d definitely feel worse about that, but as it is he’s pretty single minded. “Don't you kind of want to make me cry about it?”

Deer in headlights isn’t usually a good look, but Munson’s got the eyes to make it work. Or Steve is drunk. Either way, it’s kinda cute.

“You’re drunk,” he finally says, stumbling over the words a little. If Steve pays close attention and ignores most of reality, it almost sounds like he’s trying to convince both of them. “You’re so incredibly drunk.”

“I’m not that drunk.” He totally is.

“I just had to supervise you calling Jonathan Byers so you didn’t say something you’d regret in the morning.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Steve asks, offended. “I love Jonathan! I tell him all the time. Just because I said he ruined my life—“

“That was him?”

“Did I not say that? Huh. Whatever. Point is, I’m not that drunk.”

“You’re definitely drunk,” Munson says. “I’m not—yeah, no. I’m not coming up.”

“Damn.” Steve shrugs, not too put out about it. It’s a bummer, sure, but he handles rejection like a champ. Just ask Robin. “Worth a shot. See you ‘round, Munson.”

“Don’t kill me,” Steve says.

“Oh, god, did you punch him?”

“No, I, uh.” Steve rubs the bridge of his nose. “I think I tried to fuck him.”

He has to hold the phone away from his face so Dustin’s screeching doesn’t break his eardrums.

“Your exes are weirdly protective of you,” Munson says blandly. “Also, didn’t they date?”

“Yeah,” Steve shrugs, not exactly eager to start spilling his life story again now that he’s sober. Munson doesn’t need to know more about his dating history than he already does. “We’re all a little weird about each other, sorry.”

“Weird about your exes,” he hums. “No wonder you’re single.”

“Oh, fuck you. It’s not like that.”

He raises an eyebrow. “No?”

“Are you always this nosy?” Steve asks, a little waspish.

“Absolutely,” Munson replies without hesitation. “I’d say sorry, but I’m not. When did you even date him?”

“Dude.”

Munson just cocks an expectant eyebrow, hip resting against the bar. He can’t imagine why someone would be so interested in the romantic lives of their old high school classmates. It’s not like Steve is about to ask what was going on between him and Chrissy Cunningham.

“Well, Harrington?”

“First grade,” Steve answers, deadpan. He grins when Munson chokes. “Nah, it was actually after he and Nancy broke up. Fall of ‘86.”

Arms squeeze him from behind, and Robin slides into view, leaving one hand wrapped pointedly around Steve’s waist. She gets clingy when she thinks someone is bothering him, or when she’s just on the side of drunk that she gets possessive. She told him, embarrassed and hungover, that it’s because she registers someone he’s getting along with as infringing on “her Steve time.” Steve thinks it’s hilarious and kind of sweet, an obvious lesbian trying to pretend he’s her date. Especially because he gets the same way when he’s tipsy and feels like he doesn’t have enough of her attention, so she can't yell at him for being a cockblock. Cuntblock. Whatever the lesbians call it.

He wonders what category she thinks Eddie is. Of guy, that is. Not block-anything.

He'd actually be pretty damn happy if the guy miraculously changed his mind and decided to sit on his cock instead.

“What’s going on here?” She asks, almost cattily. He loves when Robin gets bitchy. It brings him back to their Scoops days, except he gets to see it turned on someone else.

“I’m telling Eddie my life story,” Steve says blithely.

“Ugh. Who would want that?”

Eddie grins. “I’m curious about the adventures of a former king.” He dips his head in a bow, waving his hand in a flourish. “I don’t know if you remember me from last time, I’m Eddie—“

“Munson, I know. You stepped on my lunch in junior year.”

Eddie turns beet red in record time.

“Aww, Robbie,” Steve almost coos. “Leave him alone. I wanted to be the one who made him blush like that.”

“It’s not my fault your boy’s easy.”

“Not my boy, clearly,” he mutters under his breath. “And if he were easy, I’d have gotten fucked by now.”

Eddie’s mouth drops open with a choked little sound. Whoops. Steve forgot volume control again.

Robin takes one look at Eddie’s face and bursts into cackles.

“He was asking about,” he waved a hand in the air, “the whole Nancy-Jonathan thing.”

Her eyebrows jut up. “You told him about the threesome?”

“The what?”

Steve sighs. “No, Robin. I did not tell him about the threesome.”

“…oops.”

“When?” Eddie demands.

Robin gives him the evil eye. “Why are you being weird about this? It’s not gonna make him fuck you.”

Steve wisely keeps his mouth shut.

Eddie does not. “Your boy here already asked,” he smirks, leaning closer. “I said no.”

Then, as an added punch to his ego, he twirls a strand of Steve’s hair around his finger and tugs slightly. Steve’s too stunned to protest.

Robin watches the exchange. “Oh, no thank you,” she says. “Nope. I’m out. I don’t want to see whatever this is. Ugh, stop making me hear about your sex life.”

Hypocrite. “We have thin walls, Buckley,” Steve reminds her. He turns to Eddie and stage whispers, “She likes her girls loud.”

“Steve!”

“You do!”

“Oh, because you’re so quiet,” she snaps, smacking him. “How many times have I had to bang on the wall because you couldn’t keep it down? You wanna talk about loud? I know more about you than I ever wanted to.”

His mouth drops open in mortification. “You know it’s rude to be mean to the man who told you how to eat out,” he hisses.

“I’m not dying without fucking Eddie Munson,” he declares. “I mean, his high school nickname was literally ‘The Freak.’ He’s got to be good in bed, right?”

“I think that was mostly because everyone thought he was communing with the Devil or something.”

“Maybe the Devil gave him sex magic.”

“Of course he thinks I’m cute.”

“I do?”

“Do you not?” Steve turns to him, widening his eyes in the same pout that always has Robin throwing something at his face, or the kids reluctantly agreeing to do what he wants. He’s found it’s useful for guys too, especially if he ducks his head to seem smaller and looks through his eyelashes. Makes them imagine him looking like that on his knees.

Munson is no exception. He melts faster than Steve can say gotcha. “You’re very cute, Harrington,” he purrs, and Robin snorts into her drink.

“You’re a weak, weak man, Eddie Munson,” she tells a blushing Eddie. Then she kicks Steve. “Stop bringing out the ‘fuck me’ eyes when I’m around, I’ll gag.”

“You could leave.”

She gasps, affronted, and kicks him harder.

“So you would fuck me if I wasn’t drunk?”

“Uh…” he looks everywhere but Steve’s face, which is just rude. He has a very nice face. He’s been called dreamy before.

Which made Robin laugh so hard she fell off the couch when he told her, but he’ll take the lesbian’s opinion with a grain of salt.

He makes his way onto the dance floor. He’s not a particularly good dancer, but he shakes his ass like he means it. Gets up close with a guy, stares at Eddie the whole time. Keeping eye contact as the guy puts his hands on his hips.

Look, he means to say. This could be you. You could lose your chance if you’re not careful.

From the burning in Eddie’s eyes, he gets the message.

The message is a bunch of bullshit. It’s been over four months, he’s in too deep to go fuck off with someone else now. Still, he enjoys the way Eddie’s hands flex on his thighs, like he had to stop himself from reaching out.

The thing is, Steve’s not an asshole. He can take a hint. No means no, and all that jazz. If Eddie really didn’t want him, he’d fuck right off and find someone who did. He even started to.

Except Eddie pouted up a storm when he flirted with someone else. Got even clingier when Steve tried to back off. At this point, he’s accepted that Eddie does want to fuck him, and maybe even be more (no one flirts with someone as long as they’ve been doing without wanting something like a relationship out of it. At least, he hopes there’s something more on the horizon), but has some weird hang up about Steve being even a little bit buzzed when it happens. Even though they only ever see each other at this fucking bar.

The problem is Steve has no idea when Eddie will be at the bar. He’ll stay sober one night, hoping to see him, and then go home alone only for next time to be when he sees telltale curls and a wide smile. It’s driving him up the wall.

Robin has been similarly affected.

“It’s been six months,” she growls as Steve looks eagerly around. “Six fucking months of you two dancing around in the worlds most annoying mating ritual. I’m going to kill both of you.”

“We’re not that bad,” he says absently.

“You don’t even have his phone number. It’s pathetic. I swear to God, if you see him again and don’t get laid I’m reviving the scoops board. I will go out and buy a whiteboard to keep track of all the times you strike out with a man who used to walk on tables. He stepped on my lunch, Steve. Do I need to keep bringing up the fact he stepped on my delicious, nutritious PB&J? I can’t believe that’s the guy you decide to be obsessed with, that’s so fucking embarrassing for you.”

“Embarrassing? You mean like your crush on my ex girlfriend?”

She screeches wordlessly, pulling her keychain off her belt loop and attacking him with it.

Naturally, that’s how Eddie finds them.

“I swear you guys get weirder every time I see you.”

Steve grins guilelessly at him, holding a flailing Robin in a headlock.

“Eddie! Hey! It’s been a minute.” He hasn’t been able to come in a month, and it’s been longer since he’s seen him. It’s honestly one of the deciding factors on whether it’s a passing fancy or a full blown crush. He still went to sleep every night thinking about Eddie. It didn’t even have to be about sex.

Although maybe not sleeping with anyone else for half a year should have tipped him off sooner.

“Sure has, big boy. I was starting to think you were getting sick of me.” It’s a joke, but Steve catches an undercurrent of insecurity.

“That’d make my life easier,” Robin snorts. She finally wiggles her way out of his hold. “I saw Arty somewhere around here, I’m gonna see if I can crash at her place tonight.” She levels Eddie with a look. “He hasn’t had anything to drink. If you don’t put him out of his misery, I will. And it won’t be the good kind. It will be the bad kind. With bad screams. Lots of screaming, and someone will call the pigs, and I’ll be arrested and jailed for life. Do you want me to go to jail, Munson?”

Eddie shakes his head dumbly.

“Good! Then do something about it.” She slaps Steve’s back, a mocking echo of his jock days. “Go get ‘em, slugger!”

With that, she’s gone, disappearing into the crowd.

“She is,” Steve remarks with amusement, “the worst wingman on planet Earth. Mars too, probably.”

“I dunno, I think it might be working.”

“I’m not doing anything without a condom,” he says, eyes narrowed like he’s waiting for an argument.

“Me neither,” Steve agrees. “Robin has, like, this big fear of diseases. Totally got me with it. She pulled out the library books, those pictures were fucking disgusting. Shit showed up in my dreams, man. Neither of us do anything without protection.”

“I’m going to be totally honest with you, because I haven’t been and it’s starting to eat at me,” Eddie says, hovering above Steve.

Steve wrinkles his nose. “What is it? Are you a spy or something? Are you Russian? Do you have superpowers? Is your name not actually Eddie?” He pauses. “Oh, God, you’re not even Eddie Munson, are you? I’m just some asshole who’s been calling you by my old classmates name and you were too embarrassed to correct me. Shit, we made so much fun of you for walking on tables too—“

“What?” Eddie covers his mouth, expression hovering between amused and baffled. “What the fuck, why would I go along with that? No, Jesus, I’m Eddie Munson. Moved to Hawkins when I was eleven, took senior year three times, walked on the fucking tables, could you let that go?” He moves the hand covering Steve’s mouth to play with his hair, looking annoyed for a minute before it smoothes to trepidation. “No, I, uh, I just felt like I needed to tell you that I used to have a hate-boner for you in high school. Like, I used to jack it to the thought of kicking your ass and making a mess outta you. In more ways than one.”

Steve stares.

“Also, that’s kind of why I approached you in the bar in the first place,” Eddie blabbers on. “And then you said you were just there for a friend, and I was disappointed but it’s whatever, yanno? And then then you told me about your dad, and threw my expectations to the fucking wolves, and then you asked me to come up to your apartment except you were drunk and you probably didn’t mean it. But then the next time I saw you, you kept flirting with me, which you were not supposed to do, and I kept pretending that wasn’t the reason I even talked to you in the first place, and, uh, yeah.” He smiles nervously. “Surprise?”

“I mean, not really.”

“You’re such an asshole, fuck off. At least pretend to be shocked.”

“It’s not my fault you stare at my legs all the time,” Steve says, affronted. “I know I didn’t do too good in school, but I’m not dumb enough to miss that. Like, hello, my eyes are up here.”

Eddie lets his arms give out, flopping on top of Steve heavily. Steve wheezes. “Am I really that obvious?” He whines into his shoulder.

“You got sad and pouty when I even looked at another guy.”

“You could’ve fucked him,” he mumbles. “The guy you were dancing with. It wasn’t any of my business. I’m a big boy, I can deal.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t want to fuck him,” Steve says. “I wanted to fuck you. Can we go back to that please?”

“Thought I was fucking you.”

“Someone’s getting fucked or Robin will kill both of us. I’d like to live tomorrow morning. And not have to deal with any more of her teasing for having no game.”

“You have unfortunate amounts of game,” Eddie sighs, tracing the side of Steve’s neck. It tickles. “It’s kind of embarrassing for me.”

“Yeah, yeah, are we using those condoms or not, Moodkiller?”

“Oh, I’m the mood killer?”

“Yes,” Steve says matter of factly, and pulls him in for a kiss before he can protest.

#gay bar au #steddie #stranger things fanfic #eddie munson #steve harrington #robin buckley #featuring robin as the worlds worst wingman #i'm never not going to bully eddie for walking on those tables #'why does everyone here hate me🥺' mf it's bc you keep putting ur nasty ass shoes where people eat #i've said it before and i'll say it again. someone should have yanked on his leg and made him faceplant. he would have deserved it #we stay billy bashing 💪#in this au the byers didn't move to california #jonathan still goes to school there tho #why? bc he and argyle are soulmates and time and space moved for them to make sense next question #i need u to know eddie does not have sex magic and steve isn't actually as smooth as eddie thinks. they r just obsessed with each other #that one person who was in my notes truthing ab a stoncy threesome. i was excited when i saw that bc i had this written hope u see it <3

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thepersonperson · 4 months

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Sukuna's Loneliness Part 2 (Sukuna is a fraud and it's funny.)

Part 1 Part 3

Before we start...

1) I will be mainly using the TCB scans because of their accessibility.

2) This was written as of JJK 262.

(Click pictures for captions/citations.)

Fraudkuna

You’ve probably heard JJK dudebros call The King of Curses a fraud. Fraudkuna to be exact. I want to say that they’re 100% right, but that doesn’t make Sukuna a bad fighter. Sukuna is a fraud in the way Saul Goodman is a fraud. He’s so good at being fraudulent that it’s his very way of life.

This person puts it succinctly.

And remember Reggie’s Star’s words of wisdom.

The best sorcerers are masters of deception.

Mimicry

Sukuna constantly steals from people—he takes something that isn’t his, and then morphs it into something for his purposes whether it’s bodies, Cursed Techniques (CTs), or strategies. This guy barely has original ideas of his own, using someone else’s work as the base and then building himself on top of that. This is fraud behavior.

Puppeting Megumi

In a 2 for 1 special, Sukuna steals Kenjaku’s original idea to turn body parts into cursed objects and Megumi’s 10 Shadows along with his body.

Naturally he steals the hand signs for Megumi's CT too.

What’s interesting about this copying is that the hand signs are inversed for every Shikigami except Mahoraga.

I think the inversion for Sukuna is an act of disrespect or a form of acknowledgement for a lesser since the hand sign for Mahoraga, who Sukuna respects greatly, is identical to the original form. Sukuna’s Mahoraga is virtually unchanged in design as well. It might be slightly bigger, unlike the other Shikigami whose forms are distorted compared to Megumi’s.

I lean towards distortion being an act of disrespect since Sukuna despises Choso almost as much as Yuji and steals his Piercing Blood while tweaking the hand sign.

They say imitation is the highest form of flattery. And just about everyone has picked up on Sukuna’s Megumi obsession. However, what most don’t realize is that this obsession wasn’t for Megumi the person, but his potential. Mahoraga to be exact.

And though Sukuna adores Mahoraga, his obsession with this Shikigami is in service to someone else…

Professional Gojo Satoru Simp

When I was writing this section, I was greatly surprised. I went back and scanned through everything post-Gojo Death (JJK 236-262) to see how often Sukuna copies Gojo as evidence of fraud. What I found fundamentally changed the direction of this analysis. I will tie it all into how Sukuna is a fraud don't get me wrong, but there's something else at play here...

Post-Gojo's demise, Sukuna thinks of Gojo whether directly from himself or implied by the narrator. 15 TIMES.

Sukuna, for no discernable reason, keeps copying everything Gojo did. It's not a one-off thing like Megumi for a long-term goal, it's a consistent non-stop mimicry after their fight. Here's all of them so far:

1. Using Reverse Cursed Energy (RCE) to heal a burnt-out CT.

2. The hand sign for Unlimited Void. (Aside: Yuta inverts the hand sign as Yujo, but in his case I think it's an act of respect since he doesn't see himself as Gojo's equal.)

3. The hand sign for Red.

4. Shrine based Infinity barrier.

5. Using Blue's gravity to fast travel.

6. Black flashing to restore Cursed Energy (CE) output.

7. The chanting and Honored One Pose at the same time. (And there’s even more layers to the chants themselves check out this post.)

8. Detonating his own technique on himself.

9. Even the way in which he smiles as he beats teenagers up.

By the way this face punch he did to Yugo is a replica Gojo's very first punch he landed on Sukuna.

They say imitation is the highest form of flattery but got dang. This is a bit obsessive to put it lightly.

But it didn’t start here. Sukuna’s Gojo obsession started from this panel. As Sukuna himself confirms.

No. Let’s go back further. This is when it began. Chapter 2 of the manga and Episode 1 of the anime in early June of 2018.

This motherfudger has been planning on how to slaughter Gojo for 200+ chapters. In canon time that is about 6 months.

I want to point out that his promise to kill Gojo first wound up being a lie on multiple fronts (more fraudulent behavior). He admits that it's the wrong brat's body while leaving out the fact that Gojo wasn't his first kill.

Technically Sukuna made Yuji's body his temporarily in Shibuya and killed thousands, but that wasn't deliberate. Sukuna didn't target those civilians specifically, they just got caught up as collateral in his fights with Jogo and Mahoraga. The first person Sukuna went out of his way to kill was Yorozu/Tsumiki (killing Ryu along the way). And he didn't tell Gojo that for a reason.

Much like Gojo, Sukuna is a 2 birds and 1 stone person as in he has multiple reasons for doing a single action. This can make his motives appear dubious or have plausible deniability. Sukuna on the surface went after Yorozu/Tsumiki to subjugate Megumi's soul. But that too was still in service of killing Gojo. Yorozu’s Perfect Sphere, if you remember, acts just like Infinity. And Sukuna trained Mahoraga on it deliberately to get past it.

This also means that retroactively, his Megumi and Mahoraga obsession is a part of his Gojo obsession. He saw his personally trained student’s potential, found out about Mahoraga’s adaptation, and used it specifically to upgrade his CT for the sole purpose of killing Gojo. Sukuna admits to this himself.

Not with his own technique by itself, but with Megumi’s because deep down he realized Gojo’s CT was better than his and he’d lose to him in a fair fight. A fraudulent way to victory.

By the way, when Mahoraga finally adapts to Infinity in a way Sukuna can copy, he's observing the adaptation from the shadows, fully bumming the fight, as Gojo 1v2s Agito and Mahoraga.

What’s so fascinating about this planning is that it was made up on the fly. Sukuna has been obsessing over how to kill Gojo Satoru since their first 10 seconds interaction. (Toji behavior much?) Megumi and Mahoraga being a part of his plans occurred by chance. There’s a certain level of adaptability and skill needed to think on the fly like this. It truly makes Sukuna the Best Fraud in verse.

Lies and Hypocrisy

Simply copying those you admire is base level fraudulent behavior. What makes Sukuna the King of Frauds are the contradictions in his words and actions. This isn’t like Gojo Satoru who is actively hiding his true feelings as a trauma response. Sukuna betrays his own inner logic on convenience. Uraume even notes this as his “capricious nature”.

These are excuses made by a Professional Sukuna Understander who also acknowledges just how much he was into Gojo despite Sukuna actively denying it himself. (He’s just a fish? What kind of fish engages in 6 months of psychological mind games and preparation to catch outside of Moby Dick? Yes I know he’s a whale but the obsessiveness bordering something else is there.)

We'll get back to this eventually. For now we will focus on how Sukuna picks on children.

Hating Ideals and Roles

Sukuna hates ideals. Everyone knows this because he tells Yuji constantly how much he hates them. He spits on Yuji for having ideals and goals. And then turns around and gets hyped when he finally has his own goal to chase. The hypocrisy speaks for itself.

But that’s not the end of it. He also berates Yuji for seeking a role in life, outwardly teasing him when he finds one besides cog. And then gets this excited when Maki “forces” one on him.

He’s not just being a hypocrite here. I think it’s envy. Yuji gets all the things he was denied—a society that does not exclude him for the circumstances of his birth, clear cut goals and purposes alongside others, and fulfilling connections with equals. In the worst case of Sour Grapes I’ve ever seen, he derides the things he believes he’s incapable of having. But the second he gets a taste, he starts salivating.

Hating Love

Sukuna's hatred of ideals and roles in society is but a microcosm of his one true hate—love and connections. Anything soft like bonds makes people weak. Sukuna seeks only strength so he believes the following:

Not only does Sukuna admit here that connections with other people are a weakness, he believes Gojo to be the modern pinnacle of casting them away to obtain strength. In a very roundabout way this is him praising Gojo for being a monster like himself.

And that's where the next contradiction lies. Despite Sukuna preaching the benefits of isolation, he still craves that monster to monster connection. He adores anyone just like him. Monsters who throw all their humanity away just like him. He wants that connection so badly. Look at how often Sukuna gets excited when he thinks others might be like him. (Notice the half-assed Brat is Sukuna calling Yuji out for not committing to monsterhood.)

Uraume of all people should fulfill a bit of that social want Sukuna has, but they put him on a pedestal. They are his servant and he is their master. Even though they can intuit his needs, they can’t fulfill all his emotional ones since their relationship is one with inherent distance between them. That being said, Uraume still understands exactly what Sukuna is looking for—other monsters.

Professional Sukuna Understander once again gives insight onto how this fraud thinks. Sukuna is strong enough to endure solitude. He is fearless and alone by embracing power.

And yet Sukuna cannot abide by his own principles against love.

December 24th is the most romantic day in Japan. This information is in part how we infer Gojo Satoru is in love Geto Suguru time and time again. Kenjaku calls Gojo out for this. Setting a battle date to December 24th is romantic in nature. And Sukuna, of his own volition starts seeing Gojo as the one who will teach him love.

No. That's not right either...

Gojo has never been the one trying to teach Sukuna love. He never heard those words from Yorozu. Not once. It's the other way around. Sukuna is the one trying to teach Gojo about love. Every single time "The one who will teach you about love is..." appears, Sukuna is in the final frame. It's never Gojo. It's always Sukuna.

The loneliness that comes with unrivaled strength. The one who will teach you about love is...Sukuna.

Kashimo takes Sukuna up on the offer. He has Sukuna teach him about love. When Sukuna first starts his speech about love, he speaks of Yorozu as someone who could've taught Gojo of love—as in Gojo was the one who needed teaching. He also spells out for Kashimo that the strong love with their violence. Sukuna himself admits that he loves by slaughtering. All while saying it's worthless in the end, because the only thing that matters to him is strength.

Wanting love and strength is greedy. You can't have both. Sukuna killing Gojo was not only an act of love, but an act of denial in pursuit of self-preservation. Sukuna found someone he could possibly love and he did everything in his power to kill him for the sake of maintaining his strength.

This could be proof he's not a fraud when it comes to hating love. But he still engaged with it and became stronger as a result of it—contradicting the very principles on which he decries love as weakness.

In retrospect, this makes this particular Gojo glazing Sukuna sequence from the infamous JJK 236 ironically hilarious.

Gojo never realized that Sukuna obsessed over him for 6 months nonstop after meeting him for 10 seconds. He never realized that Sukuna's cruelty and cuts were trying to reach him. The most Gojo knew was that Sukuna bagged Mahoraga to kill him. He didn't know about the planning that went into it or the heart behind it all. Gojo has always been iffy about understanding other people's feelings towards him mind you, but...

In the same way Geto did not understand Gojo's love for him until both of them were dead, Gojo did not understand Sukuna's love for him even in death. Because Gojo and Sukuna are the same person.

Umineko no Naku Koro ni (When the Seagulls Cry) is a visual novel about a person who is fundamentally misunderstood by those around them. They desperately want to be loved without being perceived, believing themself to be unworthy due to trauma and immutable characteristics given to them at birth. Instead of telling anyone these feelings directly, they play games akin to torture. They torment the ones they love over and over in hopes they'll see through their actions and understand them.

The Consequences of Fraudulent Behavior

The tragedy of Sukuna is his inability to fully realize his desires. He wants an equal in strength to play with or be killed by, but he crushes anyone with the potential to do that. Gojo was the closest thing Sukuna ever got to realizing that desire. Hence the “You cleared my skies. I shall remember you for as long as I live.” and subsequent "Where's Gojo Satoru?" ad nauseum.

Instead of allowing these potential companions to realize their abilities fully, he kills them and then gets upset about it. There's honestly no difference between him and a dog impulsively tearing his favorite chewtoys to pieces and getting confused by the outcome. (And in the case of Gojo Satoru, that's the dog catching the car but if the dog had spent half a year studying the exact speed and timing down to the stud before ripping the bumper off.)

I genuinely cannot tell if Sukuna is aware of this problem himself. Seriously, I don’t think anyone has told him that if he wants a matured fighter, he needs to let them…mature in the first place. I know he was treated like animal since birth, but he’s smart enough to know better.

He’ll never reach satisfaction like this and it’s as funny as it is pathetic. Even Megumi, the first person he saw with the potential to entertain him, was chewed up with ease. Not just him, but the very reason he took interest—Mahoraga. Instead of having a Shikigami that will always evolve with him and therefore always be a source of everchanging entertainment, he tamed it and added it to his arsenal.

Sure all of that was to kill Gojo via masterclass frauding, but that too cucks him in the long run. Gojo is still the only person in Sukuna’s entire existence to keep up with him and nearly kill him on his own. If Sukuna were smarter, he could’ve developed a lifelong rivalry that fueled both of their growths. But Gojo beats him fair and square, so he binding vow frauds his way out in a way that permanently destroys this source of fun.

And on top of that, his killing of Gojo may have also been Sukuna trying to trick himself into believing he doesn't need anyone to satisfy him ever. He probably believes this from the bottom of his heart. Kashimo calls him out for it. "Then why mince your soul into cursed objects and watch all those years go by?" Why get so excited when Uraume shows up too?

I'm not saying that Sukuna has been secretly craving romantic or sexual love for the past 1,000 years. He has had plenty of opportunities to engage with this kind of love and has chosen not to. (Though I do think Sukuna saw his fight with Gojo as a some warped version of a date at this point.) The kind of love Sukuna seems to crave is one between friends, peers, and equals. What I'm saying is that Gojo shattered his world view in the same way Gojo also shattered Toji's world view. But unlike Toji who was able to admit his way of thinking was flawed, Sukuna is actively in denial.

He denies his own feelings and desires for companionship while running around looking for another Gojo Satoru that will never exist. All that Sukuna is left with are disappointments and ghosts to chase. The only person who keeps getting up stronger every time he knocks them down is Yuji. And he hates Yuji.

I’m not sure what this all means in the grand scheme of this story, but I am fascinated by how this absolute menace sabotages his own chances at happiness because his power and fraudulent behavior has stripped him of his ability to socialize.