Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Steve ducks his head as he walks through the frozen foods aisle, avoiding eye contact with a curious-looking couple. He tries to close his ears to their whispers, pretends he doesn’t know exactly what they’re saying.

Oh my god, I thought people were exaggerating, look at the poor thing’s face! That’ll scar, for sure.

I know! Can you imagine how his parents must feel? What an amazing thing he did, they must be so proud.

It’s all anyone could talk about over the past few weeks, ever since the last gate shut and all evidence of the Upside Down disappeared from Hawkins - since a band of nondescript government types rolled through with a detailed story involving a serial killer with a penchant for ritualistic killings and targeting high school kids.

Steve grew up with all eyes on him for some reason or another, but he’d gone so long only being noticed by a group of snot-nosed teenagers that it felt weird to be the center of the town’s attention again. Especially since officials had labeled him as the savior who managed to stop the serial killer and save a said group of teenagers.

Well. Most of them.

Annnnnd that’s not a thought he wants to dig too deeply into on this grocery run, thanks. He runs his hands through his hair, wincing as he snags on a tangle brought on by endlessly fidgeting with it - a new habit he picked up somewhere along the way.

A flash of brown curly hair, a shy smile hidden behind a strand of curls–

“ Stop it ,” he growls to himself, ignoring the looks it draws from the older lady looking at frozen pizzas. His head is throbbing, and his vision is blurring around the edges. He wipes frustratedly at his eyes, wishing he hadn’t left his glasses in the car. A glance at the cart he’s been pushing around for what feels like hours reminds him that he’s only gotten about a third of the things he’s come to the store for. He entertains the idea of just abandoning the cart and going home to take a nap… but that’s not really an option, not when he’s not even shopping for himself anyway.

“Come on, Harrington,” he mumbles, tightening his grip on the cart’s handle. “It’s the fucking least you can do to finish a goddamn shopping trip.” He reaches blindly into a nearby display and pulls out a few meals, running through the list in his head again. “You’ve got this.”

The thought rings false, but he ignores the feeling and keeps pushing on.

He doesn’t really have any other choice, does he?

________________________________________________________

His first stop after leaving Melvald’s is the Hendersons. He pulls into the driveway and kills the engine, staring at the house for a few seconds. Mrs. Henderson’s car is in the driveway, but the house is eerily quiet. Back before… before, Steve can’t remember the Henderson house being anything but lively unless Dustin was out bothering Steve.

These days, Dustin’s isn’t bothering many people at all, not in the usual way. He spends his days locked in his room, mourning the loss of a friendship no one else can really relate to in the way Dustin needs.

Steve sighs and opens his door. He grabs a few bags from the backseat and walks toward the front door, which opens as he nears it.

“Right on time for your weekly check in,” Mrs. Henderson calls with a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes.

Steve laughs, a hollow sound, and gestures at her with his hands full of groceries. “I know things are hectic, and my schedule has never been emptier. I’m just doing what I can.”

Mrs. Henderson clucks at him, patting his shoulder as he walks past toward the kitchen. “I think we both know you’re going above and beyond, Steven, but we can pretend otherwise if you prefer.”

Steve smiles and goes about unloading and putting away the food he brought. “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He moves around the kitchen he knows like the back of his hand and puts things up with practiced ease. Mrs. Henderson watches in silence, arms crossed protectively around her torso.

When he runs out of things to do with his hands, he shoves them in his pockets and finally looks at Mrs. Henderson. Her face is pale and drawn, cheeks a little more hollow than he remembers them being before. Her hair, normally curled to perfection, hangs in a limp ponytail thrown over her right shoulder. 

“Mrs. Henderson–”

“It’s Claudia, dear. I think we’re well past formality at this point,” she interrupts gently, a small but genuine smile gracing her face.

“Claudia… how are you? How is he ?”

Claudia sighs, hugging her arms more tightly around herself. “Dusty’s… I think he’s getting worse, dear. He won’t talk to me. He won’t tell me about what happened.”

Steve winces, knowing that Claudia’s only knowledge of what had happened was the cover story everyone in the town knows. She doesn’t understand how Dustin could still be so involved and invested in something that had happened so many weeks ago. In her mind, Dustin was grieving over the death of someone he only knew through weekly D&D sessions.

“I can’t imagine how hard this has been for you, Claudia. I know he usually tells you everything.” Lie, that’s a lie. “I know that Dustin wishes he could tell you, he just doesn’t know how.” That rings more true, and Steve’s heart aches for the kid hiding upstairs in his room.

“I have more things to deliver, so I can’t stay. But I’ll be back tomorrow with everyone. We’re getting him out of that room to have some fun, Claudia, I promise.”

Steve blinks, arms suddenly full as Claudia lunges forward and draws him into a hug. “I know you don’t think so, Steven - and don’t think we won’t be having a conversation about it at some point - but you do so much for me and Dusty. Hell, you do so much for everyone.” She pulls back and places a hand on Steve’s face. “There’s nothing I can do to thank you enough for all that you’re doing, but please know that you are so very appreciated.”

Steve swallows past the sudden lump in his throat. “I mean- Thanks, Claudia, but really, it’s the—”

“The least you can do, I know, dear. That’s a load of bullshit, and we both know it. Take the thanks, love, you deserve it and so much more,” she says firmly, smiling at Steve’s deer-in-the-headlights expression.

“I… Thanks, Claudia,” he whispers.

She pats his face again. “Now, I won’t keep you. I know you have more people to check in on. Come back tomorrow, and I’ll have lunch made for the group before you drag Dusty off on an adventure.”

“Sure thing, Claudia. I’ll see you then.” He leans forward and presses a quick kiss to Claudia’s cheek. “Take care.”

“The same to you, love.”

Steve all but runs back to his car, a small smile tugging at his mouth. It doesn’t last long though as he pulls out of the driveway and prepares himself for his next stop.

________________________________________________________

The Sinclair house looks the same as it always does when he pulls up and parks in the driveway. There aren’t any cars in the driveway, not when the elder Sinclairs works such grueling hours. There aren’t many lights on either - there’s usually only one person home these days, and she doesn’t like to take up too much space when she’s alone.

Steve grabs bags out of the back again and makes his way to the door. Acting almost in opposition to Claudia’s welcome, the door doesn’t open when Steve nears it, even though he can hear activity behind it. Steve grins to himself and starts off one of his favorite check-in routines.

His hands are full, and his fingers are wrapped around too many plastic handles to put down easily, so he kicks at the door a few times. “Erica! Open up!”

Steve hears footsteps behind the door, but gets no response.

“Come on, kid, I’ve got places to be! Open up already!”

“No one’s keeping you here, numbnuts. If you want to leave, leave!”

Steve tuts loudly. “Jesus, kid, you kiss your mother with that mouth? And is that any way to talk to your favorite babysitter?”

The door cracks open, and Steve sees a sliver of Erica’s unimpressed expression. “You have literally never been officially employed as a babysitter in your entire life because no one in their right mind would leave you in charge of vulnerable children.”

“Ooh, hit me right where it hurts - my ability to wrangle a bunch of snot-nosed brats whose mission in life seems to be to give me gray hairs by the time I hit thirty.”

Erica cackles. “Oh, we passed that goal about five gray hairs ago, old man, do try to keep up with the times.” She swings the door open all the way as Steve squawks.

“Shut up and take these, I do not have gray hairs!” Steve shoves the bags at her and runs for the mirror in the entryway. “Bunch of good for nothing…” he grumbles, seeing exactly zero gray hairs in his reflection.

Erica grins remorselessly. “You fucking love us, and we all know it.”

Steve sticks his tongue out at her ( “Real fucking mature.” ) and snatches the bags back from her. “Help me put these up, you little rat.”

Erica trails behind him, poking at the bags in his hands. “Did you get the stuff for the thing?”

Steve places the bags on the counter and rolls his eyes. “I’m sorry, could you maybe be more vague?”

“The brownie stuff, asshole,” Erica says as she hops up on the counter to watch him put stuff away.

“Oh, the brownie stu – yes, I got the brownie stuff. Fucking told you I would, didn’t I?” Steve fights the smile that threatens to break out across his face as he dances around the kitchen to place everything where Mrs. Sinclair had once shown him.

Erica fidgets with her braids. “Can we make them tonight?” The bravado disappears from her voice, and Steve is reminded that the most abrasive member of the party is also the youngest.

The youngest who spends most of her time in an empty house, waiting for her family to get home and remember she exists. (Steve can’t exactly blame the Sinclairs for their absence - Charles and Sue work insane hours to make sure their kids have everything they need, and Lucas… well, Lucas has his priorities.)

“Tell you what, kid. I can’t do it tonight because I have a few more stops before I’m done with deliveries, but how’s about I swing by and pick you and Lucas up tomorrow morning. We’re kidnapping Dustin and forcing him to get out of his room for a while. We can all make the brownies at Mrs. Hendersons before we go to the arcade.”

Steve catches the smile she doesn’t quite manage to hide and wonders not for the first time when she’ll grow out of thinking it’s not cool to let other people know when she’s happy. “Yeah, I guess that will be cool.”

“I’m so glad you think so, because I was terrified you’d think I was lame as hell.”

“I mean. I didn’t not say that.”

“Twerp.”

“Dingus.”

Steve swaps lighthearted insults with her for a few more minutes before he calls it. “Alright, kid, I’ve got to go before I have no pride left at all.”

Erica coughs something that sounds suspiciously like “too late” and hops down off the counter.

Steve’s halfway out to his car when Erica calls his name. He turns around and sees her gripping the door tightly.

She fidgets for a few seconds, meeting his eyes and looking away several times. “I just… thanks, Steve. For what you do. It’s actually really cool of you.”

Steve grins as he walks backwards. “I just want you to know that I’ll never let you forget you said that.”

“Good luck with that, asshat, because no one will ever believe that I said it in the first place.” And with that, she slams the door shut. The sound of the lock clicks loudly across the silent lawn.

________________________________________________________

Steve is still grinning as he pulls into the next driveway, though the thought of facing the combined forces of Hopper and Joyce is enough to dim it slightly. They mean well, but these are the two adults who can’t seem to accept that Steve is doing just fine on his own, thank you very much, and where were they when he really needed them, anyway?

Steve groans. “Brain, why are you this way. Stop .” Taking a deep breath, he gets out and goes to open the back door. Before he can get to it, the door opens of its own accord, and the groceries begin floating through the air toward the cabin. Steve barks out a laugh and turns to see El and Will waving at him from the porch. He follows the groceries to their destination and grabs the two kids into a bear hug when he reaches them.

“How are you two doing?”

“I am good,” El says, beaming at him. She tilts her head and looks at him, through him. “You are sad.”

Steve sighs. “Nothing gets past you, does it?” He laughs a little and ruffles her short-but-growing curls. “Yeah, I’m a little sad, kid. Nothing to worry about.”

Her furrowed brow lets Steve know she doesn’t quite believe that, and he can’t really blame her when she has a direct line into the mess that is his brain. “What is it?”

Steve blows out a breath and picks a safe, believable topic. “It’s Dustin. He’s officially passed into being a hermit, and it’s breaking his mom’s heart. Hell, it’s breaking my heart.” He reaches over and swats at Will when he notices his mouth opening out of the corner of his eye. “Watch it, brat.”

Will just grins and mimes zipping his lips.

“I’m just worried about him. I’m worried about all of you. It’s kind of my job, as the unofficial, unpaid babysitter,” he jokes, pulling them both in closer before letting go. “So, as the unofficial, unpaid babysitter, I’m kidnapping everyone tomorrow, and we’re all going to be happy, whether we like it or not.”

“I’m in,” Will says immediately, brightening at the thought of getting the party together again. “Maybe we can all go visit Max after?”

Steve smiles sadly. “Yeah, kid, we can do that. Maybe all of us together again will annoy her into waking up to tell us to shut the hell up already.”

The kids laugh, and Steve pulls them into the kitchen to help put the groceries away. He notices how quiet the rest of the house is and realizes that he didn’t see Hopper’s truck in the driveway. “Where’s Hopper and Joyce?”

Will groans, and El frowns in commiseration. “They’re out on a date , like the lovesick idiots they are.”

“That’s pretty gross,” Steve agrees, dodging El’s knowing look as relief at the thought of skipping out on the weekly confrontation sweeps over him.

He stays and talks with them for a bit but eventually has to call it. “I’ve got a few more stops, or I’d stay to crash your movie night.” They all know he’s lying but they grin anyway.

“Yeah, it’s a shame. We’ll see you tomorrow though! Are you picking us up?”

Steve snaps his fingers. “Aha! I knew it! Freeloaders, the lot of you! That’s all you keep me around for, isn’t it?”

El smiles beatifically. “We also quite enjoy the brownies you make.”

Steve laughs. “Brats,” he says fondly, ruffling both kids’ hair. “I’ll swing by and get you tomorrow.”

“Bye, Steve!”

Steve throws a wave over his shoulder as he heads back out to his car.

________________________________________________________

Steve knocks on the door a few times and debates just leaving the groceries on the front step when Mrs. Wheeler opens the door.

“Oh! Steven, hi!” Mrs. Wheeler looks surprised to see him, even though Steve has been making the same rounds since–

“Hi, Mrs. Wheeler. I’m just here to drop some things off for Nancy and Mike.”

“Oh!” She glances down at the bags in his hands and steps aside so he can walk inside. “How sweet of you. Unfortunately, neither of them are here right now. They’ll be sad to have missed you!”

Steve valiantly holds back a snort and bites his tongue to keep from saying something about how Mike would probably prefer to never see him ever again. “That’s no problem, Mrs. Wheeler. You don’t even need to tell them I was here. I just wanted to make sure they got these.”

Mrs. Wheeler looks uncomfortable, like she still doesn’t know how to interact with Steve after Nancy and he broke up. “Well. Can I, um, can I offer you a drink?”

Steve waves a hand dismissively. “No, thanks, Mrs. Wheeler.” He gestures out the open door to his car in the driveway. “I still have a couple of stops to make, so I can’t stay long. Thanks though!”

Steve is saved from any awkward insistence as Holly screams impatiently from another room. “I’ll let you get that. See you around, Mrs. Wheeler!” He’s out the door and back to his car before she can respond.

“Four down, two to go…”

________________________________________________________

Pulling into the trailer park always does something to Steve’s heart. Probably because the two people he’d like to see when he comes here aren’t ever here anymore. Maybe won’t ever be–

He shakes his head, like that will physically dispel that thought. He pulls to a stop in front of the Mayfields’ trailer, grabbing the bags from the back before making his way to the front door. A quiet knock to the door reveals that the door had only been pushed too, not latched. Sighing, he lets himself in, bracing himself for what he’ll probably find.

His predictions prove to match reality, and he feels himself sag as he takes in Susan Mayfield’s unconscious form strewn across the loveseat, surrounded by empty beer bottles. He’s no longer surprised to find her like this but he wonders when he’ll stop feeling so defeated. He bites back another sigh as he gets to work. He slips his arms under Susan’s shoulders and knees and hauls her up. She snuffles and moans slightly, and Steve spares a thought as to how shitty she’ll probably feel in the morning as he walks her down the hall to her room. He sits her down on the bed and swipes an arm across it to knock clothes and trash off onto the floor. Laying her down as gently as he can, he pulls the cover up to her shoulders and makes sure she’s laying on her side. He takes a moment to locate the trash can he always puts next to her and grabs some tylenol and a glass of water to place on her nightstand.

With that taken care of, he goes back to the living room and sets about cleaning up the evidence of her latest binge. Bottles go in the trash, counters are wiped down, clothes are sorted and placed in piles. He brings the bags to the kitchen and puts the groceries into otherwise bare cupboards. He tears into one of the frozen dinners and places it into the fridge so that she’ll just have to pop it into the microwave when she wakes up. He goes back to her room and leaves a note next to the medication, like he always does. He stares down at her, wondering if he’s helping or just enabling her addiction – he hopes he’s helping because he doesn’t know how he could do anything different.

Having done all he can do, he leaves out the front door, locking it behind him. He goes back to his car and grabs the last few bags from his backseat. 

The walk to the Munsons’ trailer from the Mayfields’ is short, a thought that always makes him sad. He wonders how many times that stretch has been walked by Max or Eddie, and then he stops to take a shuddering breath because he doesn’t think that name, not outside of his own room anymore.

He knows that when he knocks on this door, there won’t be an answer. But that’s okay because Wayne had given him a key a few weeks back, after Steve proved he wasn’t going to stop coming by to check in. Steve unlocks the door and heads in, walking the short trip to the fridge, where he unloads the groceries. Closing the fridge, he sees a note that Wayne must have left before leaving for work:

I know you’re timing these visits so that I’ll be gone and you can just leave the food in the fridge. Come by earlier next week. It’s too quiet now I could use the company. - W

Steve laughs and feels like crying. Too quiet, indeed. He glances down the hallway and wonders, not for the first time, whether Wayne had cleaned out the second bedroom or if he’d left Ed– his things where they’d been. He knows that no matter the answer, he’s not strong enough to find out yet, so he leaves without checking.

________________________________________________________

He’s back home in his own room when he pulls Eddie’s vest out of its hiding place beneath his bed. He curls in on it as he lays in bed and cries for so many reasons. For feeling like he lost something he didn’t even know he could have, for feeling that loss when he never actually had it in the first place. He cries for Dustin, for Erica, for Max. 

He cries until he falls asleep.

And then he dreams.

Chapter Text

He’s not sure where he is, but he thinks he must be laying in bed. The last thing he remembered was curling up around Eddie’s vest as he tried to fall asleep. It must not have worked. As dark as it is, it must be the middle of the night – tomorrow is going to suck ass, then.

For all that he must be laying in his bed, it feels… off. It feels too comfortable, too… safe. He’s always been kind of ambivalent toward his bed - it’s comfortable as hell but it’s in a room he never bothered to decorate, in a house he kind of hates. Nice bed, shit location. Not a place he’s ever felt super safe.

But now? Now, he thinks he could take on the whole world from this bed. It’s warm, it’s soft, it’s… moving?

Now that he’s paying attention, it’s not the bed that’s warm so much as what appears to be wrapped around him. He feels phantom limbs wrapped around his chest, curling against him from behind. His back is pressed flush against a flat chest, and there’s a warm, thick knee resting between his legs. His neck feels like it’s on fire, and there’s something hot nuzzling against it.

The sound that escapes him would probably embarrass him outside of a dream - which he’s decided this must be because he’s pretty sure he went to sleep alone last night - but he just embraces it and rolls his hips, ass pressing back against an unmistakably hard line.

He feels a rumble from the chest pressed against his back. “Mmm, Stevie, we’ve talked about this. Though I guess you don’t remember, or else we wouldn’t have talked about this. Hmm. Why does this have to be difficu– Steeeve!”

Steve groans again, arching his back and pressing his hips more firmly into the person behind him. “You’re very talkative for a figment of my imagination in a wet dream,” he mumbles, hips seeking friction.

The chest rumbles again, though this sounds more like a laugh. “Not a figment of your imagination, Stevie, but again, you wouldn’t remember. Okay, stop that, you brat–”

Steve feels a shift, and now he’s on his back underneath whoever was spooning him beforehand. His wrists are pressed together above his head, and his hips are straining against a heavy, immovable weight. “Still not convinced this isn’t a wet dream, this seems pretty par for the course.”

The figure above him laughs again, nose pressed back into the column of Steve’s throat. Steve’s breath leaves him in a shudder as the other person’s breath ghosts over his skin. “It’s not not a wet dream, I guess, but I promise that wasn’t the goal.”

The nose against his throat trails down to spot where Steve’s pulse was hammering loudly. The person above him groans. “Stevie, how do you smell this good when you’re not even really here?”

“I-I don’t know what that means,” Steve responds, hips struggling to move as he bares his throat. “Oh god, do it, please do it.”

The nose presses in more firmly, replaced shortly by a tongue licking a wet strip up his neck. “Do what, Stevie?” Teeth join the fray briefly, nipping lightly at his skin, and Steve is so painfully hard.

“Bite me, god, please…” Steve isn’t sure where that came from but once he says it, he knows he’s never meant anything as much as he does in this moment. “Please, please…”

“Now, now,” the person says, voice falling dangerously low, “we’ve talked about this Stevie. You can just call me Eddie.”

Steve keens as teeth pierce his skin and – “Wait, Eddie–?”

Eddie sucks and tongues at the bite, and Steve’s vision whites out–

Steve wakes with a gasp and the phantom sting of a bite on his neck. His hand is gripping his cock, and it takes almost nothing before he’s panting into his arm and arching his back, coming in his boxers with a whine.

In the aftermath, Steve tucks himself back in his boxers and rubs his clean hand down his face. “God, that’s a problem.”

He’s too busy wallowing to notice when the lamp next to his bed flickers feebly.

________________________________________________________

By the time Steve finds himself in the kitchen getting coffee, he’s already forgotten the details of the dream he’d had. He remembers enough to know that he got off to a dream about a guy but honestly, that’s not even the weirdest thing he’s dreamed about in recent months. He’s already had an awkward conversation with Robin regarding whether orgasms to dreams counted as anything specific toward sexuality ( yes, dingus, you’re bisexual, you walking disaster ). Regardless, he’s not sure who it was about but he has a sneaking suspicion.

He starts as his coffee maker beeps at him, letting him know it’s ready. He grabs his favorite mug (a Mother’s Day present from Robin and the kids that says “Mom - thanks for not swallowing me” with a smiley-faced sperm on it - he’ll cherish it always) and one for Robin (a Father’s Day present from him and the kids that says “DILF: dedicated, involved, loving, father” - she almost peed herself when she opened it). Absent-mindedly, he pours coffee into both mugs and adds a (according to Robin) godawful amount of cream and sugar to his own before deeming it drinkable.

He’s just taking his first sip when Robin stumbles down the stairs. He hides a grin behind his cup at the state of her hair - since moving in, they’ve seen each other at multiple levels of disarray, and he thinks his favorite one is Robin fresh out of bed.

“That better be for me,” Robin grumbles, tugging Steve’s old bathrobe tighter on her shoulders. Steve wordlessly slides her mug toward her.

Robin groans happily as she downs half the cup in a few gulps - Steve watches in horrified fascination, still not sure how she a) drinks coffee black or b) still has taste buds left after scorching them routinely. “Oh, god, that’s the stuff.” She leans on the counter and places her chin in her hand, glaring out from under her fringe at him. “So, when are we brat wrangling?”

Steve blinks and shakes his head. “Uh, I think Claudia is making lunch for everyone, so maybe around 11? Should give us time to get everyone together and bully Dustin into getting out of his room.”

Robin’s eyes soften. “God, that kid.” She slurps noisily at her coffee. “I’m not a hugger but he makes me want to grab tight and never let go, you know?”

Steve smiles. “Even though he definitely thinks we’re still dating and lying to everyone about it?”

Robin laughs and rubs her eye. “I mean, hugging and strangling are very easy to confuse in the heat of the moment. Besides, we’re not really helping our case since I literally live with you now.”

“Oh, speaking of, when are you going to tell your parents that you, you know, moved out?”

She hums. “I mean, I think that deep down, they definitely already know?”

Steve laughs and rolls his eyes. “If they knew, your dad would be on my ass 24/7 about making an honest woman out of you, and you know it.”

“Not really selling me on the idea of telling them literally ever, dingus.”

“Come on,” he wheedles. “Imagine the beautiful chaos followed by not having to spend random nights over there to convince them you’re not out getting preyed upon and knocked up.”

“Ew gross, don’t say preyed upon,” she squeals, reaching across the counter to shove at him. “You’re such a dingus.”

“Well, what does that make you, since you basically begged to live with me?”

Robin turns her nose up. “Sorry, I don’t speak dingus.” She backs out of the room with her coffee before turning and tripping back up the stairs.

Steve scoffs lightheartedly, sipping at his own coffee. She’ll tell them when she’s ready, he knows. Not everyone is gifted with parents who don’t give a shit about their existence or wellbeing, he thinks somewhat bitterly, glancing around the kitchen that now technically belongs to him and Robin.

“Thanks, brain, that’s a super helpful thought,” Steve grouses aloud. It’s not an untrue thought, though, and that chafes.

He pushes off the counter and heads back upstairs, hoping the meager caffeine in this cup of coffee will be enough to give him the strength to get through the day. He can already feel the beginnings of a migraine knocking around his skull, so he knows he won’t be getting more caffeine any time soon.

In his room, he pauses when he sees Eddie’s vest on the bed. He tilts his head, confused. He doesn’t remember getting that out, and he knows that Robin would never go snooping for things like that. He sets his coffee down and grabs the vest, pulling it close to his face. He knows he’s probably imagining it, given that it’s been several months since its owner was even near it, but he likes to think he can still smell something fundamentally… Eddie on the jacket.

He stands there for a few moments, inhaling slowly, feeling himself relax. As soon as he realizes what he’s doing, he huffs lightly and shoves the vest back into its hiding place. “God, Harrington, why are you so weird.”

He turns to his closet, coffee and vest forgotten as he tries to figure out what one wears to a condoned kidnapping. It’s not until he’s brushing his teeth that he realizes his head feels oddly light, and there’s not a symptom of migraine in sight.

________________________________________________________

Getting all the kids in one place is always more difficult than he remembers. His car, amazing as it is, isn’t really equipped to, uh, legally transport seven people, but they all make it work (read: some people are in others’ laps, and some people are smushed in the floorboard, but they all make it to the Hendersons in one piece).

It’s a whirlwind of screaming and squealing when the car pulls to a stop, kids jumping out like the car is about to explode.

Steve and Robin follow at a much slower pace, trading fond looks as the gremlins descend on the Henderson house. Claudia meets them at the door, an equally fond look on her face as she lets everyone in. “Lunch is on the table, help yourselves!” She turns to Steve and Robin. “Hello, you two! I’m so glad you could get everyone together for this. Dusty really needs to see his friends, even if he doesn’t think so right now.”

Steve tilts his head, reading between the lines. “He’s still in his room, then?”

Claudia nods, expressing dimming slightly. “He hasn’t talked to me all morning but he knew that everyone was coming.”

A small crash comes from the dining room area, and Steve sighs. “Um, why don’t you guys get that, and I’ll grab Dustin?”

Claudia pats his face affectionately. “Thanks, sweetheart. You’ll have much better luck than I did.”

Robin gives him a thumbs up before following Claudia to check the damage and wrangle the kids into something less chaotic for lunch.

Each step he takes up the stairs stirs up a bit of dread in his stomach. The last normal conversation he’d had with Dustin had been before— before. And now… he’s pretty sure he has to break his “no talking about Eddie outside of his bedroom” rule. He sighs. This is going to suck.

He reaches the door and knocks hesitantly. “Dustin? It’s me, Steve. Uh. You probably, uh, knew that already.”

The silence is deafening. “Come on, bud, I can hear you rolling your eyes at me through the door.”

Nothing.

“Okay, man. I know you’re in there. Claudia says you won’t leave unless you have to, and I know you’re hiding from everyone downstairs. I get that. But you need to come out, man. Everyone misses you. This isn’t healthy, bud.”

There’s a shuffle, like Dustin moves closer to the door. “Go away. I don’t want to talk to you.” His voice is muffled and scratchy, like he hasn’t been using it unless he’s been crying.

Steve decides to count that as a win. “I know you don’t, but I’ve got time, man. We need to talk.” He kneels down and spins around, placing his back against the door. “I’m not going anywhere, bud. I’ve got all day.”

Something thunks against the door. “I don’t want to talk. Why can’t you just go away? You don’t care anyway.” He sniffles. “No one cares.”

Steve’s heart breaks a little. “That’s not true—“

“The hell it’s not! You were all back to laughing and joking, living life like everything was normal. Like Max isn’t in a fucking coma and Eddie isn’t… isn’t…” Dustin sniffles again. “It’s not fair.”

“None of this is fair, man. It all kind of sucks.” Steve hesitates but plows forward. “And we do care. I know it doesn’t seem like it all the time. But, shit man, everyone deals with shit in their own way.” He takes the following silence as the judgment it was likely meant as.

“Look, man, we’re… I’m barely hanging on, day to day,” Steve says, forcing the words past the growing lump in his throat. “I’m terrified that Max will never wake up, and even if she does, what kind of shape will she be in? Obviously, we’ll do everything in our power to make her life the best it can be, but there are limits to what we’ll be able to do. I can’t tell you how many nights I’ve sat up with Robin and Hopper and Joyce, just terrified that things won’t go right.”

He takes a breath, and Dustin shuffles again. “We just don’t want to worry you guys. And I get that that’s stupid of us. You’re all going through this, too, and you deserve to be included and be made to feel like your voice matters. We’re trying to shield you from something you’ve all been a part of since day one, and that’s… that’s bullshit.” He swallows the wince that always crops up when that word comes out, stores it away, feels like he deserves it in this instance.

He takes another deep breath, feels like he’s inhaling glass. “And, uh, as for– as for Eddie, uh. God, man, I’m so sorry we made you feel like we didn’t care that he’s– gone. We all miss him–”

Something thuds on the door, harder this time, and Dustin all but hisses. “Yeah, right, you fucking hated him. You couldn’t stand him and always talked shit about him every time he came up.”

Steve made a noise, a broken caricature of a laugh. “Yeah, I, uh, I didn’t hate him, bud. I was… god, I was so jealous of him.”

The door behind him pulls open a few inches, and Steve clenches his abs to try not to fall backward into it. He turns his head and meets Dustin’s eyes through the crack.

What little he can see of his face is covered with skepticism. “You were jealous of him? What the hell for?”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Are you kidding me? You talked about him nonstop, about how fucking cool he was, with his music taste and his over the top theatrics. You all thought the sun shined out of his ass, and it felt like every time you were with me, you were counting down the time until you could hang out with him again.”

Steve breathes, trying to shove the shards of glass down. “I wasn’t in a good headspace, man. I’m not used to being people’s final choice. Their first choice, sure, because who wouldn’t pick King Steve? But I’m not used to people sticking around after they get to know me. I’m never the thing they pick at the end over someone else. And now… now I’m just some dumbass, ex-jock turned babysitter that you guys keep around for free rides and money for the arcade.” Steve swivels his body to face the door and make eye contact with Dustin.

“It was shitty of me, and I’m sorry that I let my jealousy get the best of me. And, uh. There’s something else I have to tell you, and I really need you to swear to take it to your grave, man.”

Dustin looks like he wants to say something but swallows it down, pulling the door open enough to stick his hand through and silently offer Steve his pinky finger. Steve laughs and hooks his own around it.

“So, uh, I was jealous of him, right, and how he had all of your attention and everything but uh… I was also jealous of you and the party? Because… because you got to hang out with him all the time. I guess after hearing you guys kissing his ass left and right for weeks made me realize he sounded like a pretty fucking cool guy, and uh. King Steve would never get the chance to hang out with him like that. And it’s been years since I’ve really been King Steve, but as far as the people of Hawkins are concerned, that’s all I’ll ever be. And it was probably unfair of me to assume that Eddie would also think that of me, but I did, and I was jealous and angry and sad.”

Steve smiles, a small, brittle thing. “I never told you because there was never really a good time, but we talked once, in the Upside Down. He actually told me he was jealous of me, can you believe that? For the same reasons, actually. Which, how funny is that? We’re both sitting off to the sides, jealous as all hell for no fucking reason.”

Dustin, pinky still wrapped around Steve’s, squeezes gently, eyes glued on Steve’s face. Steve squeezes back and closes his eyes. “That’s not the secret, though. And, look, I’ve never told anyone this but I think I have to tell you.”

Dustin speaks up then. “You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to, Steve.” His voice is gentler, close to a whisper.

“No, I, uh, I want to. I just, putting it into words is fucking scary, man. So… I’m just going to say it, I guess. Every time we were hanging out, it felt like Eddie was… flirting with me? And, uh, it freaked me out when I realized it, but I didn’t hate it? But he was always in my space, calling me cutesy nicknames, smiling at me. I just… I was confused, and I needed time to process it.” Steve rubs at his chest. “I thought he might… do something when we separated to go fight Creel, but he didn’t. And I kind of hate myself for putting that on him and not doing something about it myself.”

Dustin pulls the door open more, and he’s sniffling again. “You… liked Eddie?”

Steve laughs again, somehow, around the shards of glass in his throat. “Yeah, man, I liked Eddie. And he’ll never know, and I’ll never get to know if he liked me like that, or if he acted that way with everyone because that’s just who he was.” He squeezes at Dustin’s hand again.

“That’s my secret. And I just want to say, the fact that I made you think I didn’t care about Eddie fucking dying? I don’t think I can forgive myself for that, man. I miss him every day, so much. And I’m so sorry that I wasn’t here to talk with you about that. Like I said, everyone has their own way of dealing with shit, and uh, historically, mine is to… not.”

Dustin finally opens the door all the way and just stares at Steve. Steve looks back at him, feeling oddly naked after essentially baring his heart. A few seconds pass, and then–

“So you and Robin really aren’t dating, are you?”

“Oh my god, you little shit, I hate you so much,” Steve laughs, yanking Dustin toward him by their joined pinkies and wrapping him in a hug. “No, Robin and me aren’t dating, and we never will , you little brat.”

Dustin laughs, a watery little sound. “Okay, I believe you, I guess, since you’re like, mega-gay, or whatever.” He stiffens. “Not that I have a problem with that! Is it too soon to joke?”

Steve rolls his eyes, heart feeling like it should burst any second. “Nah, man. But maybe, uh, don’t joke unless we’re alone. And uh, the word is actually bisexual. I still like girls.”

“Bisexual. Cool.” Dustin squeezes Steve before pulling back and wiping at his face. “Thanks for telling me that.”

They both climb to their feet. Steve claps his hand on Dustin’s shoulder and smiles down at him. “So… Claudia made lunch for everyone, and then we’re going to do something fun because god knows we fucking need it. What do you say?”

Dustin smiles shyly. “Yeah, I guess I could use some fun.”

“Great! Let’s go then.” Steve turns and heads to the stairs.

“Hey, Steve?” Dustin calls.

“Yeah, bud?”

“You’re not just some dumbass that I keep around for free stuff, I really hope  you know that. And uh, you’re always going to be my final choice, too.”

Man, that glass really isn’t going anywhere, is it?

Steve ruffles Dustin’s hair and pulls him in for one last quick hug. “Love you, too, man.”

________________________________________________________

Steve is laying in his bed again, breathing deeply. He’s on his side, and it’s pitch black again. 

“You there, man?”

Steve starts and realizes that his hand is intertwined with someone else’s. The hand he’s holding is a weird combination of cool and warm. “I’m… here, I think? Where is here?”

A short huff of laughter, somehow managing to sound fond. “There you are.” The hand squeezes his own. “Was beginning to wonder when you’d show up.”

“Show up?” Steve repeats, confused but not bothered. It’s like the knowledge that this is a dream – and it must be – has removed any urgency he might normally feel in an unknown situation.

“Sometimes you’re here but not here-here. I know that won’t make any sense to you–” Steve shrugs “-- but that’s what happens.”

Steve hums. “But I’m here-here now?”

“Yeah, Stevie, you’re here-here now.” Something, the person’s thumb, starts rubbing circles along the side of his hand. “Are we gonna talk about it?”

Steve blinks, trying to focus on anything in the pitch blackness. “Talk about what?”

“What you told Henderson about me,” the person says, voice oddly hesitant. 

Steve’s heart clenches. “About you …? Eddie?” He squeezes at the hand attached to his own. “Is that you?”

“Yeah, it’s me, big boy. It’s always me.”

Steve pushes past that last bit, not able to focus on it at the moment. “Eddie, oh my god. Of course I dream about you tonight.”

Eddie laughs, a sad sound. “Not just tonight, Stevie-boy.”

Steve frowns. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Eddie whispers softly, thumb still tracing shapes on Steve’s hand. “So you were jealous of me too, huh?”

Steve groans. “Okay, this isn’t fair. As a figment of my imagination, you have way too much information at your disposal. Yes, you fucker, I was jealous of you. And them, too, I guess.”

Steve can almost see the shy smile that must be pulling across Eddie’s face. “Ha, you like-like me.”

Steve laughs. “Yeah, man, I guess I do. Not that I can ever do anything about it now,” he trails off sadly.

It’s Eddie’s turn to hum. “Well, I don’t know. Never say never ever, Stevie babe.”

Steve rolls his eyes with a laugh. “What’s with all the nicknames, Munson?”

“Oh-ho, no, don’t act like you don’t like it, Harrington. I have it on good authority that they get you all flustered .” Eddie shuffles forward on the bed, nose to nose. Steve can feel his breath on his lips. “Don’t they, big boy?”

“Eddie…”

“Wait, hold that thought. Every time things get steamy, you disappear just when it’s getting good.”

“What…?”

Eddie noses at Steve’s face.  “Don’t worry about it. Say, it was pretty sweet what you did for Dustin today.”

Steve groans. “God, I was terrified. I’ve only ever told Robin about me like that, and I’ve never told anyone about… you.”

Steve feels the ghost of a kiss pressed against his forehead. “I know you haven’t, sweetheart, I know. I’m so proud of you. Henderson needed to hear that, to know that he wasn’t alone in missing me.”

Steve feels that stupid lump of glass in his throat again. “He’s not, Eddie. I miss you so much. And it’s stupid, I shouldn’t–”

“Hey, hey, none of that.” Cool fingers reach up and brush gently at Steve’s cheeks, wiping at tears Steve hadn’t realized were there. “You’re allowed to mourn something that could have been.” He pauses. “Something that could happen.”

Steve shakes his head. “What does that even mean, Eddie?”

“Just… watch the lights, Stevie-babe. Please.”

“What lights, Ed–”

“I’ll see you later, babe.”

“No, Eddie, wait–”

Steve wakes with a gasp, tear tracks drying on his face. He covers his eyes with his hands, realizing it was still the middle of the night. “God damnit.” He scrubs his face and sits up. “What the fuck.”

A faint buzzing distracts him and pulls him out of his thoughts before he can spiral. Moving his hands from his eyes, he looks over at his bedside table. He can barely see anything in the soft moonlight that filters in through the curtain over his window, but his eyes catch on the lamp.

The lamp that he’d unplugged months ago after it had started malfunctioning. He’d never bothered to replace it because he felt like some nights he deserved to lay awake in the dark, listening to every sound the night could throw at him, fingers wrapped around the grip of his nail bat.

The lamp that was now flickering, three short flashes followed by three long flashes then three short flashes.

“Oh my god…”

The lamp started flickering faster, the light coming through more intensely. Three short, three long, three short.

Three short.

Three long.

Three short.

“Oh my– Robin! Robin!! ”

The bulb bursts, and Steve is left in the darkness again.

Chapter Text

Steve and Robin are sitting at the counter at 3am, drinking hot cocoa. Well, it’s more like they’re both holding mugs full of cocoa and have been staring at each other without moving for the last 15 minutes.

Robin ends up breaking the silence first (surprising no one - Steve had always known that she could never do silences of any kind). “You’re sure it said SOS?”

Steve nods again. “I’m positive, Robs. I know I’ve only seen it the one time, but it was a pretty memorable time. And I swear to god, the lamp was unplugged before you got in there – it hasn’t been connected to electricity for months by now.”

Robin sighs, dropping her head in her hands. “I just… we saw Vecna’s body, we burned it to a crisp and beat the charred corpse to a pulp. All the gates are closed, and Will and El have both said they don’t feel anything related to the Upside Down anymore.”

Steve nudges her with his shoulder. “I know, Robs. I just… what could it even be? Vecna’s gone, Eddie’s… gone, too.” Steve swallows around a weird lump in his throat, almost feels something brush against his forehead.

Robin gasps. “Oh! What if it’s, like, the Russians?”

Steve stares blankly, and Robin socks his arm lightly.

“You know, the Russians have been trying for years to get through the gates. What if they got in, and now they can’t get out?”

Steve made a face. “Would we be, like, obligated to help them…?”

Robin shrugs. “I feel like it’s our duty as citizens of this so-so nation to not, so…”

Steve laughs, rotates his mug in his hands, tilts his head. “So, we’re… we’re going with Russians then?”

Robin looks pensive. “I think so?”

“Then… there’s no reason to let everyone else know and get them all riled up?” Steve ventures, already pretty sure they’re on the same page.

“You read my mind, dingus.”

Steve deflates, a weight disappearing from his chest. “Okay, well, in that case, I’m sleeping with you. I don’t need some Russian perving on me in my sleep.”

“Whatever, dingus, you just want me to be the big spoon.”

_________________________________________________________

The lights are all but forgotten over the next few days. Steve ignores any flickers he sees out of the corner of his eye, gets rid of the old lamp in his room. He lets himself believe Robin because that’s easier than dealing with the potential emotional fallout of the other option. He doesn’t really have the headspace to deal with it, so he just… doesn’t.

Instead, he throws himself into renovations. Ever since his parents had fucked off, taking the neat little story of their son being a local hero and cutting ties before he had the chance to embarrass them again, Steve has been itching to just tear the house to the ground. Robin talked him out of that, but that doesn’t mean they can’t go room by room and completely erase the idea that his parents ever lived there.

So far, over the past few months, they’ve made headway in getting the more frequently used rooms updated. They’ve managed to strip nearly the entire first floor and work out plans for replacing furniture. 

He’s standing in the kitchen - the only place he doesn’t feel the need to refurbish because he has more happy memories there than anywhere else in the house - when the lights flicker again. He pauses, putting down the mixing spoon and rubs his hands over his eyes. “Ignore it, man, just ignore it.”

The light gets more insistent, flickering faster, and Steve hisses, “Whoever the hell you are, giving me a fucking seizure isn’t making me want to talk to you.”

The lights pause, then flicker faintly as if in apology.

“Thanks, I guess,” Steve says. He stares down at the bowl in front of him, suddenly very uninterested in making brownies. He dumps the contents in the trash and throws the bowl in the sink. He pauses at the doorway on his way out.

“Um. God, I hope I don’t regret this. I’m figuring out a way to talk to you, so just give me some time.”

A few seconds pass, and the lights don’t flicker again. Steve sighs and walks away, off in search of his migraine medication.

_________________________________________________________

A few days pass, and Robin is off doing band things with Vickie - he’s learned not to ask specifics unless he’s ready for an hour long ramble on how she’s still not sure if Vickie likes boobies at all, let alone her boobies. He maintains that she likes both, and they’ll figure it out eventually.

He drives by the post office and picks up a truly egregious number of boxes, all the same size and shape. He loads them into his car, ignoring the curious looks from the employees. Hopefully this won’t be all over town anytime soon, and he won’t have to explain to Robin why he bought 16 Lite Brites after telling her he’d leave the lights alone.

Because here’s the thing: it’s not that Steve doesn’t think Robin could be right – god knows she’s right more often than he is, and he defers to her most of the time at this point. But somehow… it doesn’t feel like this is one of those times. Something out there is speaking to Steve.

Now that he thinks about it, maybe that lamp has been flickering since back when everything went to shit. He’d unplugged the thing because he thought the wiring was fucked up, but now– surely it must have been flickering for some other reason, right?

So anyway, Lite Brites. A truly stupid amount that he plans to set up in the spare room no one ever goes into - it’ll be easy to hide it behind all the junk they keep throwing in there to go through ‘later.’ Steve will use them to reach out to whoever is in the Upside Down that keeps fucking with him, and hopefully confirm that there’s nothing to worry about.

Nothing to worry about at all.

_________________________________________________________

Steve stares at his hand, raised to knock on the door in front of him. He can’t bring himself to actually make contact, and there’s a slight tremor in his hand. He takes a breath. 

It’s not that he’s scared, per se…

It’s that he’s terrified .

He’s only seen Wayne in passing, thanks to the fact that they don’t really run in the same social circles and Steve’s perfectly-timed grocery runs. Except, the last one hadn’t been so perfect, and he’d been saddled with a dinner invitation he couldn’t exactly turn down.

Not that he wanted to! Wayne seems like a perfectly nice guy, if a little intimidating, and honestly, he reminds him a lot of–

Suddenly, the door swings open, and Steve jerks his hand back.

“Are you coming in, or were you just planning on becoming a new lawn ornament?” Wayne asks with a quirked brow.

“Uh, you know,” Steve stuttered. “I, uh, just. I’m coming in?”

“Are you asking me or telling me?” Wayne asks.

“I’m, uh. T-telling you?”

“Close enough, kid, come on in.” Wayne turns and disappears into the trailer.

Steve takes a deep breath, holds it. Lets it go. “Alright, Steve, you’ve been in here a dozen times now. You can do this.”

He walks in and shuts the door behind him, following the sounds of shuffling coming from the kitchen.

“Grab a seat, kid, I’m about to put things on the table.”

Steve does as told and watches as Wayne brings in several dishes from the kitchen. “Wow, Mr. Munson, this all looks amazing!”

Wayne grunts. “It’s a little more than I usually do because you keep bringing me all these fancy groceries. Be a shame if I can’t put them to use.”

“Sorry if the food isn’t right, sir, I can always–”

Wayne waves a hand dismissively. “Don’t even bother apologizing, kid. It’s not like you have to bring those groceries in the first place. And it’s a big help for me. With my shifts, I can never get to the store without losing a great deal of sleep.”

Steve runs his hands through his hair self-consciously. “Ah, well. I do it for a lot of people. I don’t have anything better to do.”

“Somehow, I’m not sure that’s true,” Wayne replies. “Anyway, eat up before it gets cold.”

Steve picks up his fork and looks at the plate. He was so focused on the idea of seeing Wayne for dinner that he forgot to worry about the actual dinner part of things. Eating was hard these days, and eating in front of people? Forget about it. Still, he pushed things around on his plate and made a valiant effort to stomach a few bites.

“Kid, I have to ask. Eddie didn’t talk much about you, when he was… Anyway. How did you come to know him?”

Steve fiddles with his napkin in his lap, having shredded half of it from nerves. “I, uh. Kind of knew him from school. W-we didn’t run in the same circles, but, uh, I wish we had. Um. And then these kids that I babysit joined his, uh, club, and it kind of spiraled from there.”

Wayne looked at Steve, eyes patient.

“We didn’t believe he did it, sir,” Steve said, suddenly desperate to make sure Wayne knew that (and equally as desperate to hide the fact that he had entertained the idea for a small, shameful moment before the facts had come to light). 

Wayne laughed at that. “You think I’d let you within fifty feet of this trailer if I didn’t know that? Besides, I don’t see any of those doomsayers knocking down my door to deliver groceries. I figured you had a good head on those shoulders, kid.”

“You’d be the first to think that,” Steve says without thinking.

Wayne’s smile turns a little sad, and Steve can’t help but think that he probably had this conversation with Ed— him more than a few times. “You’re a good kid, Steve. Don’t question it.”

Moments pass in silence, and Steve tries to focus on the food on his plate. It’s a little hard to stomach it – not that it’s not good, it’s just that Steve hasn’t been eating too well since, well. Since.

Wayne speaks up, redirecting Steve’s train of thought. “I was, uh. I mean, I invited you here because I wanted to thank you, don’t get me wrong. Though I don’t know how much of a thank you it is to cook the food that you bought and delivered for me, don’t think I haven’t been chewing on that one for a while.” He pushes something around on his plate with his fork.

“I just… I wanted some answers, Steve, and I think you might have them for me.”

Steve feels his face go white. Fuck, he wasn’t ready to have this conversation, wasn’t even sure if he legally could .

“I just… How did–”

Steve stands up, suddenly not sure what to do. “I, uh, I have to go, Mr. Munson. Thank you f-for having me.” Pieces of the napkin he shredded fall to the ground, and he stops. “Oh, no, I’m so sorry, I didn’t think–” He drops to the floor and picks up the pieces, movements sharp and frantic.

He feels something on his shoulder and his hands still. He looks behind him and sees Wayne kneeling next to him, a kind expression on his face.

“Son, you’ll find no judgment here. I’ve known Eddie since he was a tiny thing, all swinging fists and sharp tongue.” He pauses for a moment. “I know Eddie, Steve. He had his secrets, but it’s hard to keep certain things from the people who love you.”

Steve takes a deep breath, wonders what that’s like.

“Like I said, he didn’t talk about you much, but what he did… I get it, son.”

Steve takes another deep, shuddering breath, unsure of where to look. “Um–”

“Look, kid,” Wayne squeezes his shoulder, “I’m just glad that there was someone else out there who cared for Eddie as much as I do.”

Oh.  

“Oh, um. I–” Steve takes another breath. “I think, I-I mean.” He stops, unsure why he’s even bothering to deny. “I… really do care about him, sir. He was… he was a good person, and he deserved way better than he got.”

“I know, son. I know.” Wayne pulls his hand away and stands up. “I’d say don’t worry about that paper, but I can see that’s probably all you’re gonna do.”

Steve ducks down, hiding the smile on his face. “Yes, sir, probably.”

“Okay, kid, enough with all this ‘sir’ crap. I think we’ve hit a point where you can just call me Wayne.”

Steve laughs a bit. “Yes, si– Uh, Wayne.” He breathes deeply, steels himself. “Um. You wanted answers?” His palms are clammy, and the napkin pieces stick to his hands uncomfortably.

Wayne laughs, not unkindly. “I think that answered just about everything, Steve.”

Oh . Steve smiles in confusion. He didn’t want to know– Well. That makes things easier.

“Now. Did you really need to leave, or can I interest you in dessert?”

__________________________________________________________

Steve stumbles into his house sometime later that evening, stomach and heart both full for the first time in a while. The lights are all on, and there’s a note from Robin saying that she’s gone to spend the night with Vicki. Steve grins gleefully at that and hopes that she returns with good news, finally.

“Oh!” The house is finally empty, and Steve realizes he can finally do the thing. He toes his shoes off by the door and runs for the stairs, slipping slightly on the newly revealed hardwood flooring (getting rid of the sterile white carpeting had been one of the first renovations Steve insisted on).

Once he’s in the spare room, he ducks behind a wall of random things that had been thrown in there under the guise of sorting through it later. Against the far wall towers his current objective: 16 Lite Brites stacked four high and four across. He figures if something is trying to communicate with him, why not give as much space as possible to let them?

He stands in front of it, feeling a little stupid. “Um. Hello? Is anyone there?”

Moments pass, and Steve’s unease grows. He wonders if maybe he did something wrong with setting them up. Didn’t the Lite Brite work last time? Would it–

A light pulses across the screens, interrupting Steve’s train of thought. Steve stares as letters begin to form.

“‘Hello’.” Steve smiles, relief sweeping through him. “So it works! Um, hi. Can you, uh, tell me who you are?”

“‘I’m not sure I can.’” Steve frowns. “That seems sketchy, random person. Can you at least tell me that you’re not some Russian bent on opening the Upside Down again?”

“‘I’m pretty sure I’m not that.’ Okay, well, that sounds like something a Russian would say, honestly.”

“‘What can I say to make you believe me?’” Steve scoffs. “I think it would defeat the purpose if I told you that.” He crosses his arms and stares at the monitors. “Maybe this was a bad idea…”

“‘Oh, come on. Live a little, big b–’” Steve cuts himself off and stares at the words in front of him. “Big boy?” His chest tightens, and he clenches his fists. “Look, I don’t know who you are but that’s off limits.”

The letters fade and some time passes before more show up. “‘Why?’”

Steve jerks away. “Yeah, this was a bad idea. Fuck off.” He turns away, doesn’t look for any more letters to form.

He’s still grimacing to himself, berating himself for his stupidity, when he climbs into bed. He pulls the covers around him and hopes that he falls asleep soon so he can stop thinking about the stupid letters on the stupid Lite Brites.

And how he felt when he saw the words ‘big boy’ show up.

__________________________________________________________

He’s laying in his bed again (again…?), and it doesn’t appear that he’s alone (which doesn’t surprise him, for some reason).

“Heya, Stevie.” It’s Eddie, and he’s curled up next to Steve with his hands in between them. He’s translucent, and it looks like a small breeze would blow him away.

“Eddie? What are you doing here?” Steve asks, confusion coloring his voice.

Eddie’s smile is tinged with sadness, and wow, he looks just like Wayne, Steve thinks to himself. “I’m here every night, Stevie-babe.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Don’t worry about it, Steve. You won’t remember later anyway.”

“What…?”

“Can you just… can I…?” Eddie can’t seem to finish his sentence. Instead, he reaches toward Steve and grabs his hands, cradling them in his own. “I really need this tonight.”

Steve sighs, reveling in the contact. “I’m really confused, Eddie. What’s going on?”

“I’ll tell you next time. And I’m sorry I scared you off earlier. It was stupid of me, I wasn’t thinking.”

“Earlier?” Steve asks.

“Just. I’ll tell you later? Promise,” Eddie breathes, and Steve acquiesces, leans into Eddie’s touch.

Eddie sighs and squeezes his hands. “Thanks, Steve. You don’t know how lonely it is here.”

Steve makes a sound, inquisitive and impatient. “Lonely where?”

“I can’t tell you yet. I don’t know why, but something’s keeping me from telling you anything. Just… please keep an eye on the lights.”

Something sparks in Steve’s mind, and he grabs at Eddie’s hands. “Wait, don’t go!”

“I’m not leaving, Stevie, not yet. This might be one of our longer nights.”

Steve groans. “You keep saying things I don’t understand. What kind of dream even is this?”

“The best kind, Stevie babe. The kind where I get to see you,” Eddie says, flashing Steve a smile. Something about his smile looks… off, but Steve can’t find it in himself to focus on it.

Steve deflates and feels the urge to ask questions fade away. He embraces the ephemeral feeling of the dream and shuffles closer to Eddie. “I miss you, man.”

Eddie laughs, a quiet, breathy sound. “I miss you, too. Can we just… lay here?”

Steve bites back a retort about how they already seem to be doing that, instead moving closer to Eddie and laying his head next to his. “Yeah, man. C’mere.”

Eddie breathes in deeply and sighs. “You don’t know what you do to me, Stevie-babe.”

If he weren’t dreaming, Steve is sure his face would be burning red. “Yeah, yeah, whatever you say, man.”

Steve finds himself drifting, like he could disappear at any moment. The only thing keeping him anchored in place is the feeling of Eddie’s hands wrapped around his own. Focusing on that feeling, Steve lets the world around him fade to black as he sinks deeper within himself…