Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It was a hot August Friday, the first time It happened. August 7th, if you would like to be exact, and Robin would like to be exact. She was only a bit surprised to see Steve walk back through the Family Video doors on his day off - say, 46% surprised. He was supposed to pick her up after work today, but she wasn’t off for another two hours. What did throw her off, just a bit, was the look on his face. He looked like he was concentrating very hard on something - he always got a little pouty (stuck his bottom lip out), and a wrinkle appeared between his eyebrows. He moved toward her without really looking at her, looking more at her vest. 

“Heya, Steve-o,” She called. “Miss me too much to wait?” 

“Yeah,” He answered faintly. “That’s what it is.” Then he seemed to shake himself out of it a little bit, pulling himself up and meeting her eyes with a crooked grin. “How goes it?” Finally making it to the counter, he leaned over and drummed his fingers on the glass. She leaned against her side to get a little closer too.

“One day closer to achieving the highest state of consciousness to ascend from the ashes of our local video store and up to Nirvana,” She sighed dreamily and then tweaked Steve’s nose. “You have your thinking face on. What’s up?’

Steve scrunched up his face and leaned his nose out of her reach. “I haven’t figured it out yet.”

“What out yet?” She shot back.

“Whether what I’m thinking about is… something. I think…” He laughed, just a couple of times, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand. “I think Eddie was flirting with me earlier. And like… flirting , flirting. Not just doing his usual… whatever . You know?”

Robin gasped, excited. “Really? What did he say?” She asked, smacking his shoulder.

“Ehhh,” He groaned a little, waving his hand around indecisively. “So, I was loading my groceries into my car and all of a sudden I heard this wolf whistle -” He demonstrated. “Which isn’t anything really crazy, you know. But I turned around, and he was there with his band friends - Grant? And… Jim? Jeff? Jeff.”

“And Gareth, not Grant. Carry on.” She corrected offhandedly.

“So I said hi, and it was a little awkward because I don’t really know his friends… at all, but whatever. Then, Eddie comes up and looks in my trunk at all my food. He cracked one of the lame ‘What’s cookin’ good lookin’?’ jokes, which is amateur hour as far as flirting goes, so I figured he was still just joking around, being weird, you know?”

“As only Eddie knows how, I agree. Continue.” 

“So then, right after he says that, he looks me up and down and goes, “Speaking of, you are looking good today, Harrington,” which, I’m literally not. I’m wearing my errand clothes.” He motioned down to the faded grey t-shirt and jeans he was wearing. Robin bit her tongue at the ‘errand clothes’ comment, which was regularly one of the cutest and most embarrassing things he says. She thought maybe she should start a scrapbook. “And that’s where he started blurring the flirting-as-a-joke and flirting-as-a-flirt line, right? Am I crazy?”

“No,” Robin hesitantly agreed. “That’s pretty damn close to a flirt-as-a-flirt if I’ve ever heard one.”

“Right? He also got, like, right up in my face and said it really softly, like I don’t know if the other guys heard it kind of softly. Which is also not how you would approach a flirting-as-a-joke flirt.”

“Agreed,” Robin said. “And I can for sure tell you didn’t take it as a flirting-as-a-joke flirt, because you, Steve Harrington, are full-on blushing right now.”

Sure enough, there was a faint dusting of pink along Steve’s cheeks, which flushed stronger when she pointed it out. He hid his face in his hands and groaned.

“Shut uuuup ,” He complained. “How I took it doesn’t even matter yet. I don’t even know how he means it.”

“Was that all that happened?” Robin wheedled. 

Steve mumbled into his hands, too low and garbled for Robin to catch.

“What?” She poked him, between two fingers, directly in the center of the forehead.

“I said ,” He repeated, this time way too loud, “I was all like red or whatever then too, and he said pink looked good on me and swatted my ass with his bandana?”

Robin’s mouth dropped open. Steve looked shocked that he had said what he did out loud, and then his face crumpled up in embarrassment and he hid it in his hands again.

“Oh, my god,” Robin muttered. “What an insufferable dweeb. He might be one of the grossest people on the planet.” Steve moaned brokenly into his hands. She started smiling, a tinge maniacally. “And you liked it, didn’t you?” 

Steve groaned louder, and Robin started giggling. “You did! He gave you a good locker room swat to the bee -hind in broad daylight while you had a bag of string green beans and a carton of low-fat in the trunk of your car and you liked it .”

Steve lunged over the counter a little to try and put his hand over her mouth, but she darted away too quickly.

“Back to business, though. I didn’t even know he was queer, do you know he’s gay for sure?” Robin asked delightedly.

Steve shrugged, his discomfort oozing a different flavor this time. “I think so. I mean, Tommy used to joke about it. I told Tommy to stop because that wasn’t funny, so he didn’t to my face, but that’s always what I heard.”

Robin fake gagged but pulled Steve behind the counter so that they could sit next to each other. “Trash ogre,” She complained. 

“Garbage goblin, even.” Steve agreed good-naturedly.

“Ok. Well, you’re queer, and he’s probably queer, so what do you think? Do you want him to be flirting with you?”

Steve lifted the back of his head back so that it rested on the cabinet behind him, and stared up at the ceiling. He sucked in a big breath of air till his cheeks puffed out, held it for a while, and slowly blew it out.

“I dunno. I mean, he’s cool. He seems like a nice guy. Major dweeb, you’re right there, and I don’t think we have a lot in common. But… It’s… cool to be liked, you know? I really don’t know, though. I think it’ll be good to take it slow. See where it goes. If it was a weird one-off, I’m ok with it being a weird one-off. I mean, it’s not like I really know the guy: we haven’t hung out since the whole Upside Down stuff. So no biggie, either way.”

Robin scooched a little closer and laid her head on his shoulder. “Ok. Cool.” She said and patted Steve’s knee.

“Cool.”

At one point, Steve remembered that he had come straight to Family video from the grocery store, and so made a quick trip outside to gather up the perishable things to stuff into the break room fridge so they wouldn’t go bad while he waited for Robin’s shift to end. There was a little rush, so they didn’t really talk anymore after that. Steve hid under the counter as Robin scanned people out, and he picked at her shoelaces (but didn’t tie them together because he was above that) and laid his head on his knees, trying to decide between Slaughter High and The House on Sorority Row for tonight’s movie. When Keith came in to relieve her, he snarled his upper lip at Steve and otherwise didn’t bother to acknowledge them as they left. 

They ended up taking Sixteen Candles with them. 

Robin helps Steve carry the groceries from the car. She takes mental note of the food items she slides onto the shelves - leafy greens and lean proteins (mostly cold cuts and a pack of turkey bacon), yogurt, and some fruits. The starches and carbs were sparse and strictly sequestered. The only ‘non-healthy’ foods he had bought, she knew, were for her. As she finished, he took the receipt from his trip and logged each item into a notepad that stayed by the fridge. She tried to bite her tongue.

“Stop glaring at me,” Steve said. She let out a short, frustrated breath.

“I’m not.” She denied. Steve was… complicated. Even if he himself didn’t think so. He’d been through a lot, and he was working through a lot, and had learned that he needed control in specific areas when he didn’t have control in others. She wasn’t great at being careful or being quiet, but she knew Steve well enough to have a grasp on what he needed from her.

“I’m planning to get fat and happy with you tonight,” He said, trying to placate. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Fat and happy tonight is good enough for me.” She answered. Compromised. 

They gathered the junk food that Steve had bought and her bag and set up camp in front of the tv. He put the movie in while she pulled out her polish selection for the night. 

“What do you think?” She asked, motioning to them. “Robin’s Egg Blue too on the nose?”

He glanced over his shoulder from where he squatted at the tv. “Since when have you worried about that?” He asked. She stuck her tongue out at him.

“Come ooon,” She whined, and good sport that he was, he took a longer look at the polishes laid out in front of her on his way back to the couch. He plopped down beside her.

“I like the purple.” He said, pointing to the light lavender in the middle. Robin nodded decisively and swiped it up as the movie started. She laid her right hand flat on one knee first, holding the bottle between her pinky and ring finger on that hand so that she could grab the brush with her left and focus. Steve watched the movie, snorting a little as Robin started muttering about accidentally swiping over a cuticle, or smudging a nail that was already done as she shifted to the other hand.

“Want me to do it?” Steve asked eventually. 

“You want to?” Robin asked in return, looking a bit taken off guard.

“Sure,” He shrugged. “Why not?”

“Not too… girly for you? Or whatever?” It was something she assumed he’d be offended by, even if neither of them knew why he should be, exactly.

“Helping you paint your nails? I think I’ll survive.” He made grabby hands and she shrugged and gave him the bottle and brush. He got up so his feet were on the couch cushions, but squatted so his knees were up near his ears, and he could press his elbows into the insides of his legs to steady them.

“You look like a gargoyle,” Robin giggled. 

“Don’t question my methods,” Steve answered, affronted.

“Have you done this before?” She asked.

“Yeah,” He said, shrugging again. “With Nancy a couple times.”

They both fell quiet as Steve carefully began swiping the brush over Robin’s nails.

“You’re really good at this,” Robin said, sounding surprised. Steve shot her a look without lifting his head.

“I would say thanks if you didn’t say it like an insult.”

“Not an insult!” Robin protested quickly, raising her free hand placatingly. “Just didn’t expect it.”

Steve huffed. “Stop distracting me, I’m trying to focus.”

“‘Scuse me,” Robin pouted. “Will you let me do yours?”

Steve hesitated. “I don’t think so…”

“Come on,” She whined, “It’ll be practice for me! You can pick out a color. We can take it off right after.”

“You’re just going to mess yours up, right after I did them.”

“I’ll let them dry first! I’ll be so careful!” She insisted. “Please, please, please!”

“ Ah !” Steve pulled the brush and bottle away from her as her hands twitched. “If I say yes, will you stop moving so I can finish?”

Robin squealed and wiggled her butt on the couch before immediately stilling and laying her hands back down. “Yes.” She said, calm and composed as ever. He rolled his eyes and painted her last two nails.

He picked out the purple for himself, too. Robin concentrated so hard that the tip of her tongue poked out of her mouth, which Steve felt duty-bound to point out. By then, the credits were rolling on the screen, but it was pretty late and they had work in the morning, so there were no plans to start another.

By nail number four, Robin noticed that Steve had gone still. She glanced up and caught him spaced out again, staring at the screen.

“What’re you thinking about?” She prompted, and then nudged his knee with hers. “ Eeeddiieee ?”

Steve scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Come ooon,” He complained.

“What?” She asked. “I haven’t been here for any of your crushes yet! And a gay one, to boot? Come on !”

“It’s not a crush! It isn’t anything yet! It’s been all of seven hours!” Steve argued back. 

“What was the first thing you noticed about him?” She barrelled on. “Was it his eyes? His hair? How sweet he is with the kids?” Robin made her voice go all soft and dreamy.

Steve sputtered a laugh. “You’re unbelievable.” He said. “Truly. Has anyone ever told you that?”

She shrugged one shoulder. “It’s one of my best qualities, yes,” She answered. He wagged his head at her, and went quiet again. She painted another nail.

Steve’s voice was very quiet when he spoke again. “Listen, I’m really not into it right now. Not - not because it’s him , just because I’m not… I’m not there yet.”

He hasn’t been ‘there yet’. Since Starcourt. Steve had joked about getting girls, going on dates, about finally getting his mojo back out of the sailor hat. But any flirting she had caught had seemed half-hearted at best. She knew of one date he had gone on - and more than anything, going to that basketball game had been more for Lucas. Otherwise, things had been all quiet on the western front. 

“Even if nothing happens,” Robin said after a while. “Not to go all… psycho-analyst on you, but even if you don’t end up liking him, or it doesn’t go anywhere, I’m proud of you for putting yourself back out there. For opening up.”

“I didn’t do anything, Rob,” Steve joked softly, with a wry grin. “I just stood there and stared. It was real awkward.”

Robin snorted. “I can just imagine.” She joked back, just as gently. “But, whatever happened, you’re… staying open to the possibility. Like, you could have booked it out of there. Or you could have shut him down. After everything you’ve been through, that would have been totally understandable. But you didn’t. Would that be fair to say?”

He shrugged but nodded.

“I’m proud of you for that. You’re really brave, Steve.” She met his eyes, which looked a little wet, though that could have been the glaring reflection of the tv screen. 

Steve wanted to ask her a lot of things. He definitely didn’t feel brave, that was for damn sure. Not responding to the probably-joking advancements of some guy who had been forced into sharing a week from hell with him was not brave . 

Later that night, when they had moved up to his bed and Robin had fallen asleep beside him, he lifted up his painted nails and looked at them. He wasn’t sure they really fit him, but it felt nice to try something new. To let something out, like stretching some muscles he hasn’t felt like he could use before. 

He definitely isn’t ready to try anything. Thinking about Eddie makes anxiety spike through him, makes his heart pound heavily and his palms go clammy. Even though Steve did miss being in a relationship, missed that special kind of closeness, he did know that the relationships he had been in hadn’t been… good. For him. Or for the other person, for that matter. This new space he found himself in, this close, weird little friend group, was different and safe and healthy and loving in its own way, and he wanted to stay here for a while. Maybe he was afraid that he couldn’t have both.

There was… a spark of something, though. Just a little shimmer of excitement. He looked down at his nails, bitten to the quick but purple and glossy now, and thought about how this would have made his stomach tighten and roil with anxiety and self-loathing even a year ago. He thought about how much he, his life, and his friends had changed. He thought about hiding, and misplaced anger, and how that wasn’t there so much anymore. So yeah, maybe there was a spark of something. Maybe.

Chapter Text

The boys rolled into the grocery store laughing their asses off. They smelled a little musty, going from Eddie’s AC-less van through the parking lot, but the cool air of the produce section instantly chilled the sweat on their skin.

“Did you see that?” Jeff wheezed. “I’ve never seen the King so off his game.”

“He - he - he went so red I thought he was going to pass out,” Gareth battled to win over his giggles. “Jesus Christ, man, you don’t miss .”

Eddie grinned, self-assured, though he wasn’t above admitting he felt a little giddy himself. Something about Steve’s attention had always moved like a current of electricity through him. It was something he loathed, and was a bit, sickeningly, addicted to. He turned in front of a stand of lemons and bowed.

“Just doing my part to maintain the status quo,” He offered magnanimously. “Even graduation won’t save preppy little jock boys from me.”

A little housewife wheeled her squeaky cart very pointedly around them, toddler waving a pacifier in the air settled into a puffy blanket in the seat.

“God, Eddie,” Jeff tried to take a breath, wiping tears from his eyes. “The way I was so sure you were about to get decked in the face… you’re fearless, man, I don’t know how you do it.” They gathered themselves enough to move through the produce aisle and on to collect their spoils for the evening ahead.

“Oh, come on,” Eddie waved him off. “We all know Harrington might be an insufferable priss, but he isn’t like that. Never has been. Give credit where credit is due.”

Their sneakers squeaked on the tiles of the supermarket. Eddie silently directed Jeff to grab two frozen Meat Lovers pizzas, and they moved to the soda aisle.

“How could I forget? Refraining from introducing peons like us to his fists is what made Steve Harrington Hawkin’s Golden Child in the first place. He was practically a saint.” Gareth scoffed.

“I am a fair and just ruler.” Eddie shot back airily. “I am simply laying out the facts. And the fact is, I know that Steve Harrington isn’t gonna scruff it out with me in the middle of a Hyvee parking lot over a couple of compliments shared between men.”

“Too worried he’d break a nail,” Jeff snorted.

“Nah,” Gareth said, “We just aren’t worth it to him. That’s always been true: we just aren’t worth his time. I was in seven classes with him. Seven! I bet he doesn’t even know my name.”

Eddie waved a hand and they stopped in their rants just momentarily to bicker over Dr. Pepper or Mountain Dew. Dr. Pepper won out.

“Malice has never been King Steve’s driving motivation. Hubris, on the other hand, most certainly. He probably came out choking on all his silver spoons. And, perhaps most importantly in your case, Master Gareth, the boy is a ditz.”

Gareth and Jeff both snickered at that. 

They grabbed a carton of ice cream and two bags of chips and headed up to check out, maintaining some semblance of composure as they shuffled into line and set the junk food on the conveyor belt. A little, lethargic elderly woman in a green apron checked them out, seeming mostly blind. She took long enough that Eddie found a safe little bubble of a moment to think back on the blush that had stained Steve’s cheeks. 

Eddie had honestly been surprised by the things coming out of his own mouth, too, but really - he was but a man. Harrington had been out there, in those jeans, in that soft, light t-shirt, with his hair falling even more gently and Disney-prince-like than normal, looking comfortable and tan. The hair on his arms looked almost blonde, and his coif had looked lighter too. Eddie probably owed the sun god an offering or two as thanks for that. And maybe whoever had invented chlorine. He could probably bake them some cookies or something, right? And get his hands on two and a half virgins?

Sue him. He was nothing if not an opportunist. So, Eddie had let his mouth run a little bit, having caught Harrington in one of those rare moments when he wasn’t babysitting, tittering with Robin, or pointing out the difference between Rob Lowe and Tom Cruise to some dad who had been sent in by his teenie bopper daughter for a sleepover. And wouldn’t you know it, he had made Steve Harrington blush. He felt all tingly. He wondered if it was adrenaline, like a runner's high with none of the bad stuff and all of the hot hunk stuff.

He was rudely interrupted by the woman behind him bumping him with her cart, just a little. 

“Ope, sorry!” She said. He mumbled something that he thought sounded close enough to an apology of his own, and then took the hint and moved out of her way so that she could start unloading her cart. By then, the old woman ringing them out had their items bagged and was taking Gareth’s money.

She had little purple latex finger covers on her thumb and pointer finger, which she used to pull open the plastic bags and separate bills as she counted out their change. She waved at them mechanically and then called Jeff back because she forgot to give them their receipt.

As they waited for her to turn back and rip it off of the little machine, the middle-aged woman behind them paused long enough while unloading her cart to do a double take and said, “Wait, aren’t you…”

Each of the boys grabbed a bag and they sped out to the parking lot. Eddie swore a little under his breath and made sure to hunch his shoulders, sparing a little more than half a thought to investing in some disguises for his outings around the good townsfolk of their provincial little town.

They piled back into his van, Jeff in the back with the food and Gareth riding shotgun. Eddie and Gareth rolled the windows down quick, and Eddie peeled out of there.

“Woof, that was a close one.” Jeff panted.

“Got out of there by the skin of our teeth, we did,” Eddie agreed, a little breathless himself.

“You’re not changing the subject,” Gareth said pointedly.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Eddie answered.

“We know you went through some wacky shit last year with everything, man, and somehow you got thrown into that shady-government-conspiracy-sign-a-waiver B.S. with Harrington, but I can’t believe you’re sitting here defending him right now! He was Grade-A in high school.”

“He simply was not!” Eddie shot back. “You know me: I am a bully connoisseur. Only the finest. Harrington could bitch it out with the best of ‘em, and he had it made, but the simple fact of the matter is he wimps out in the bully department. He’s the me of bully school. You saw back there, I was flirting my ass off and he did jack shit.”

“Eddie has a point, Gareth.” Jeff piped up, albeit reluctantly. “Plus, we practically watched him become a different person. Wheeler broke it off with him and now he’s Buckley’s conjoined twin and a resident babysitter. None of that’s very Kingly of him.”

“We saw him get mopey after a breakup and then graduate. I didn’t see any change .” Gareth protested. “And today proved nothing except you caught him off guard. He’d still whoop your ass for being gay on a good day.”

Eddie would have gotten a little pissed off by now because Gareth was, like, objectively being a dick, except he caught Gareth rubbing his sore hand out of the corner of his eye. Andy’s parting gift after the Jock Rampage of ‘86 had been Gareth’s hand broken in two places, and it still bothered him sometimes, especially after practices like today. He eased up.

“I’ll tell you what.” He said. “Let me prove it to you. You want proof Harrington’s a changed man? Tell me how.”

Gareth paused for a minute and then started laughing, a little disbelieving. He rubbed his chin. “Hm…” He considered. The glint forming in his eyes made Eddie start to regret suggesting this bargain. “Alright, if Harrington’s such a bang-up guy, see how far you can keep going with the flirting shit before he knocks you out.” He said it like he had Eddie in check.

Jeff let out a single, startled guffaw. “What, like one-sided gay chicken?”

“Rude that this bargain has you betting that I’ll get punched in the face, but you have yourself a deal.” Eddie said. No hesitation. Laughter was already bubbling up inside his own chest again, thinking about a bumbling, flustered Steve.

“What, really?”

“Wha-?”

The other boys were a little stunned.

“You think I can’t woo him? Eddie the Banished is long dead - call me Eddie the Silvertongue. I could sweep that bastard off his basketball-shoed feet before he knew what hit him. It might take some doing, but just wait and see, gentlemen.”

“No way,” Jeff breathed.

“Are you seriously taking this dare?” Gareth asked, delighted.

“Master Gareth, consider it accepted.”

“Alright, alright,” Gareth said, excitedly lifting himself up so one foot was in his seat and he was facing Eddie, pointing a finger in his face. “If you’re serious about this, and you really want to prove me wrong, you’re going to ask Steve Harrington out on a date. If he punches you in the face, I get your van every weekend for a whole month.”

A little shock of… something shot through Eddie. Excitement? Anticipation? Eldritch dread? He wasn’t sure. He did have the wherewithal to feel a bit affronted, though. “So I get a broken nose and lose my ride in this scenario?”

“Temporarily lose your ride, yes. Only if you want to go so far defending King Steve,” Gareth answered airily.

Eddie grinned. “Alright, I accept your terms.” He said, and felt vindication when Gareth choked. “But, with my own conditions. First, I’m not just walking right up to the guy and asking him straight out. There is a foundation to be laid. Second, when I ask our goodly overlord out for a trip around the roller rink and a shared milkshake, and I don’t end up with knuckles to my sweet sweet face, but rather a painfully awkward but remarkably tender let down, I get your Malcolm Young signature.”

Gareth yelped.

“I knew it!” Jeff crowed. “He’s been hounding you for that thing since ‘83, dude, you had to see that coming.”

“Harrington isn’t worth Malcolm Young! You bastard,” Gareth seethed. Eddie cackled.

“Sounding a little less sure of ourselves, aren’t we?” Eddie gloated. Gareth sat back down and glared out of the windshield for a few beats, stewing.

“Deal.” He finally spat.

“ What ?” Jeff asked.

“Deal,” Gareth repeated, even more firmly. “The chances of King Steve Nottingham Harrington III turning a gay date proposal down with anything less than a punch to the face are in the negatives. At least in this universe. And you know what?” He asked Eddie archly. “You’ll deserve it for putting my prized possession on the line. You’re a sick man.”

“Y’all are nuts,” Jeff shook his head. “Straight up bonkers.”

By then, they had reached the trailer park, and all unloaded and darted into Eddie’s trailer. At least for now, the subject of King Steve was temporarily forgotten (blissfully, in Eddie’s opinion) in favor of returning to an argument that had been ongoing since their last rewatch of The Neverending Story. Gareth’s theory was that the Auryn (the medallion that Atreyu wore) was an evil weapon like Tolkein’s One Ring. Jeff, horrified at this suggestion, pointed out that that would make the Child evil. Gareth’s response was, “Yeah, duh.”

“It’s basically an Ouroboros.” Gareth pointed out. “A snake eating itself isn’t a wholesome image - snakes have always been bad.”

“Yeah, it is basically an Ouroboros,” Eddie answered. “That doesn’t prove your point, because the Ouroboros isn’t an evil symbol. It’s a symbol of life. If anything, the Auryn isn’t good or bad, it’s just power.”

“That’s what I’ve been saying,” Jeff stressed. “It comes with its warning because pure power in the hands of a wimpy human is dangerous, but ascribing morality to the thing itself just doesn’t make sense to the story.”

They dropped their bags on the coffee table and scattered, dropping jackets on chairs or the floor and toeing off their shoes to throw back at the entryway. Eddie roamed around, clicking on box fans that had been strategically placed around the room to kick up airflow, cracking windows on the way. 

“We should ask Dustin about it. That movie’s one of his favorites, right? I bet he knows all the theories.” Jeff said.

“He’d smoke you where you stand, Gare,” Eddie said. Gareth rolled his eyes.

“Excuse me for thinking outside the box,” Gareth said, laying himself out on the couch and spreading his legs wide so one foot was on the floor, and his other ankle was hooked over the back.

“Thinking outside the box and demolishing an author’s intentions for a story are two completely different things, numbnuts.” Jeff poked, opting to lie on the floor.

“You’re both morons, all this shit needs to go in the fridge before it congeals together in this heat,” Eddie said, swiping up the grocery bags.

“It’s your house,” Jeff pointed out.

“Ungrateful imbecilic leeches,” Eddie said fondly.

“You should work an Auryn into our next campaign,” Gareth suggested. “We can see in action how good or bad it actually is.”

Eddie paused for a moment to shove everything they’d bought, still in the bags, into the fridge. “I will overlook your insistence on using morally charged language to agree with you. That could be cool.”

That evening, laying on the ground next to Jeff in a smoky haze, the trailer dark, stomach full of pizza and carbonation and ice cream, Eddie revisited the idea of the Auryn. The inscription on the medallion (in German, in the original book) was “Do What You Wish.” It was an insidious promise of complete freedom which, if the holder was not careful, could strip them of their personhood. “Do What You Wish”, with the full assurance that they really could do whatever they wished, made the wearer start to question what they really wished at all. 

What did he want? Like, existentially? Beyond surviving high school, surviving the Upside Down, and surviving the expectations and assumptions and opinions of others? Beyond laying around, playing music, dealing for cash, and getting high with a couple buddies? His thoughts wandered, unbidden, away from his uncle, away from Gareth and Jeff, and toward the odd crowd of people he had formed a wild, life-altering, interdimensional bond with. Everyone risking their respective lives for each other transcended the realm of traditional friend and familial bonds. Maybe his thoughts wandered toward a certain baseball bat-wielding jock. Maybe his stomach swooped before he could wrestle it back into submission. Maybe it was just that his high was getting a little on top of him.

Yeah, that was probably it.

Chapter Text

It’d been 3 days since It happened last, and Steve was driving Dustin to Eddie’s trailer. He had worked an early afternoon shift at Family Video, The shock had worn off since their last… interaction, and in light of the chaos that was working full time, getting ready to start community college with Robin, and carting around the rugrats pretty much daily (rugrats also included Robin), he honestly hadn’t spared much more thought to the possibly-flirting-as-flirting incident. 

“So you still haven’t declared a major, right?” Dustin asked.

“Yeah,” Steve answered, adjusting the vent next to him to try and get the AC more directly on his face. The humidity was fucking up his hair big time .

“Any ideas for things you might want to try out as majors? Maybe you could shadow some classes. I’m planning on taking a couple next semester for dual credit.”

“Jesus, really? That’s a whole lot of school, man.”

“Yeah, for now,” Dustin agreed. “But I might as well take advantage of living at home and not having to work for a couple more years.”

Steve puffed up his cheeks and then let out his breath slowly. “I mean, I guess. Just… Don’t forget to have time to just… hang out, you know? Let loose a little sometimes.”

Dustin hmmm’ed. “Speaking of…”

“Oh, Christ,” Steve mumbled in anticipation. 

“Since it is really important for us to… ‘hang out’, and ‘let loose a little sometimes’, maybe we could have a get together to celebrate the end of summer? And maybe it could be the kind of get together that involves… a certain pool in someone’s backyard?”

“I knew it,” Steve groaned, dramatic and teasing. “I knew you wanted something, I should have known better. Do you even want to be my friend? Or do you just want me for my sweet digs?” 

“I totally want to be your friend! You’re the best friend a man could ask for! It’s just that one of the things I love about you is how you let us use your pool! Plus, it’d partly be to celebrate you, anyway. It’d be a sending-off party for you and Robin!”

They pulled into the trailer park, and Steve pumped the brakes so that they crawled forward to Eddie’s trailer.

“A sending-off party? The community college we’re going to is 20 minutes away. We’ll still be living here. There’s nothing official about what I’m doing, besides maybe being a little smart and getting my dad off my back about staying here.” Steve complained.

“Stop downplaying this,” Dustin reproached, poking Steve’s shoulder with an accusing finger. “This is a big deal for you. And for Robin.”

“Ow,” Steve hissed, rubbing at his shoulder. “Keep that little shiv you call a finger to yourself, man, that really hurt.”

Dustin rolled his eyes, and then fixed Steve with an “I mean business” stare. “We should celebrate. We have a lot of things to celebrate, so we should do it.”

Steve looked at him out of the corner of his eye and rolled to a stop outside of Munson’s door. He finally sighed.

“Ok, fine. Fine. We’ll have a stupid end-of-the-summer pool party.”

Dustin’s face broke out into a wide smile. “Awesome! I can invite all the guys from Hellfire, right? It’d be the perfect time to introduce them to Will!”

Steve threw his hands in the air. “Why not? We can invite the people in the car we just passed by, too! How about you go knock on that trailer over there, see if there’s anyone there who might want a dip in my pool?”

Dustin staunchly ignored the sarcasm. “Perfect, I’ll let them know tonight! When should we do it? This weekend works, right?”

Steve stared at him, letting his mouth drop open. “You’re unbelievable,” He said. 

“Unbelievably smart? Handsome? Nice? Clever? I know -”

Before Dustin saw what was coming, Steve had his arm wrapped around Dustin’s neck and was pulling his face up into his armpit to rub his knuckles in the kid’s hair.

“I’ll show you unbelievable,” Steve gritted out. Dustin had started shrieking and was now digging his own fingers into Steve’s side, making him yelp and try to contort himself away. “I’m gonna -” A garbled yell cut off his threat as Dustin caught a particularly ticklish spot, right up at the fatty part where his shoulder blade met his side. He jerked himself away from Dustin’s grabby fingers and would have hit the door (probably painfully) if the door… had been there?

Having forgone a seatbelt on this trip, Steve suddenly found himself on his side on dirt and sparse grass, looking at a pair of bare feet and hairy ankles. He rolled onto his back, confused, and met Eddie’s amused stare as he leaned effortlessly against the now-open Beemer door. He was in a loose pair of black cargo shorts, swung low on his hips, and a black tank top that looked about two sizes too small, tight on his slim frame and riding up about an inch and a half from the top of his pants. His curls were a little wilder today, too, thanks to the humid air, if Steve had to guess.

“Hiya, Harrington,” Eddie said, nonchalant. Steve pressed his lips together and propped himself up onto his elbows.

“Munson,” He returned the greeting.

“Need a hand?” Eddie asked, stretching his hand out. He only had one ring on, a thick silver band around his thumb. Begrudgingly, Steve reached up but bypassed his hand to grab around his wrist. Eddie returned the favor, wrapping hot fingers around Steve’s wrist, too, and then he tugged. Steve pulled himself up off the ground, dusting himself off best he could. “What’d you do this time?” Eddie asked breezily. Steve was about to protest, indignant, before realizing that Eddie’s attention had turned to Dustin, instead.

“Pipsqueak,” Steve mumbled, grabbing the hem of his shirt and shaking it so that a little dust cloud blew out behind him. Eddie pulled a grin, obviously enjoying this way too much.

Dustin was getting out of the car, grabbing his backpack, and swinging it onto his shoulder, before he poked his head up from the other side and looked at them across the roof, hair now frizzy and sticking up all over. “I landed us a pool party at Steve’s this weekend!” He answered proudly.

Eddie’s eyes lit up in excitement. “Is that right?” He asked, gaze flickering back to Steve. “How exciting .” There was a quick tilt to the head, and a lilt to his voice, that Steve decidedly paid no attention to.

“Whatever, man, when’s the last time you said no to that little asshole?” Steve asked under his breath. Best not to let Dustin hear that . The smile that Eddie shoots him this time, while chagrined, is the most honest, open one he’s seen on the guy yet. It makes his dimples press into his cheeks, and his eyes scrunch up. Eddie moves a little bit so that he’s standing with the Beemer’s door in front of him, crossing his arms and resting them on the door’s top edge. Steve moved so he was standing right next to the open doorway, getting ready to swing himself back into the driver’s seat, when Eddie stepped closer, swinging the door so it was almost pinning him in.

“I’ll try to find a way to make it up to you,” Eddie told him, almost as softly, lips still quirked up in a teasing grin.

Steve’s mouth went a little dry. He couldn’t feel himself flushing this time, which was good. And anyway, he could blame the heat for any redness that might have been plaguing his ears or his cheeks.

“Good luck with that one, Munson,” He shot back, just a tad slow, and just a tad strangled.

Munson’s smile got a little bigger. But, Dustin was stomping his way up the trailer’s couple front steps, and he had the door propped open for Eddie’s return.

“Come on, Eddie,” Dustin called.

Eddie twisted around, arms still on Steve’s door but head tilted backwards. “Aren’t you forgetting something, Dusty-buns?” He asked, hitching a thumb back into Steve’s face.

Dustin rolled his eyes. “Thanks for the ride, Steve,” He droned out.

Eddie turned back around, looking satisfied. “Thank you, Harrington,” He repeated in a sing-song, leaning just a little closer.

Steve huffed. “Yeah, yeah,” He said. “Whatever.” He ducked back down into his seat and Eddie closed his door for him. Steve backed out of the Munson trailer’s driveway and made off like a bandit.

… Stupid nerds and their stupid dramatic flirts. He didn’t even want to like anyone in the first place. Where did he get off, being all stupid and smooth? What a dumbass, thinking Steve was going to cave that easy… He’d just caught Steve off his game - Steve could flirt with both hands tied behind his back, blindfolded and spun around in a rainstorm. He’d show Eddie - show him so hard he wouldn’t know what hit him… Wait…

The house was empty, as usual. The cleaning company that his dad hired out had been by earlier today, though, so the place smelled like PineSol and laundry detergent. That wasn’t a super regular thing, but Mr. Harrington was hosting a dinner party for his work associates that night. Dinner parties meant a cleaning company would come out to sterilize the place and position everything like it was set up for a magazine shoot, and Steve was expected to make himself scarce.

It was about 4:30, which was already too close to the time he was usually already sequestered in his room. He went to the kitchen and made quick work of cooking his dinner. His dad was having tonight catered, and usually, Steve was allowed to have leftovers if there were any, but that meant not getting to them until after 11 or 12 some nights. 

Even with how quick he had tried to be, he was still searing veggies and chicken and cooking a cup of rice when his dad walked in the garage door. His anxiety had spiked when he’d heard the car pull up into the garage, but there was really nothing he could do at that moment.

Rob Harrington walked into the kitchen out of the garage already pulling off his suit jacket. He had gone semi-casual with a navy blue suit, Steve noted, over a starched white button-down and a tan tie. The man glanced at Steve, hanging his keys on the little hooks right beside the door.

“Make sure you clean up properly once you’re done,” His dad said.

“Yes sir,” Steve answered. “I’m almost finished. I’ll be out before 5:15.”

Rob nodded, heading out of the room. “Remember I have my event tonight. Are you planning to stay in?”

Steve nodded. “Yeah, but I have a call with mom. I’ll be in my room.” Since his parents had divorced when he was 13, and since he had turned 18 and needed to stay in town for work, his visits to his mom had turned into weekly phone calls.

“Good.” Rob answered. “Let the caterers in when they get here, please. You don’t have to set anything up, just open the door.”

“Will do.”

And he was gone. Steve heard as he stopped at the liquor cabinet in the living room to pour himself a glass (he took a finger of bourbon, neat, as soon as he came home every evening). Steve was able to relax, anxiety immediately easing, as soon as his dad left the room. He made quick work of his meal, piling everything onto a plate, and wiping away any evidence that he’d been in there. He grabbed a glass of water and carried his dinner up to his room, but kept the door cracked to listen for the caterers. 

Running back downstairs to let the caterers in was the last time he stepped foot out of his room that evening. He listened to his dad’s dinner guests trickle in starting at 6:30 and listened as the noise downstairs swelled, men’s voices rumbling, glass and porcelain tinking against each other, boisterous laughter rising and falling. He left his dirty dinner plate on his desk beside the door and waited till 7:30 to dial his mom’s number.

“Hello, this is Arielle,” His mother’s kind, but tired voice picked up after a few rings.

“Hey, mom,” He said.

“Baby! Perfect timing as always, I just sat down from dinner. How are you?”

“I’m ok, hiding upstairs from one of dad’s parties,” Steve answered, sneering a little, but keeping it lighthearted. His mom pretended to gag over the line.

“Oh, that’s just the worst .” She exclaimed. Steve chuckled.

“It’s not so bad,” He answered, placating. “How has your week been?”

He heard her let out a long breath. “Busy,” She said honestly. “Real busy. I got that typing job, remember? Well, apparently I was the only one who wasn’t lying on their resume, so I got promoted to trainer within the first two weeks. Teaching all the other ladies to do their jobs too. It’s not too bad, but a little more than I had expected when I took on the job.”

“Egh,” Steve responded. “And out of the blue like that, couldn’t have been easy. How’s Nana doing?” When Arielle had divorced Rob, she had moved back in with her mother. It was a good thing too, because Steve’s grandma had had a stroke soon after, which pushed her already declining health over the edge. On top of everything else, Arielle had become her caretaker.

“This was a really good week for her! We went on a walk around the neighborhood twice this week. She made friends with our neighbor’s little dog - I think he’s a pomeranian? It was a tiny little fluffy thing.”

“Cute,” Steve smiled.

“Very.” She answered. There was a slight pause. Then, “It’s good to hear your voice, baby.” 

“It’s good to hear your voice too,” Steve said, his smile turning a little sad.

“Ok, give me the rundown on everyone. All your friends. Are you and Robin about ready for school? Do you have everything you need? I can… speak to your father about giving you money for supplies. Or I can send you a little something.” His dad warned Steve early on that as soon as he graduated high school, he was cut off. He could stay in the house until he was 24, if he wanted to try to work around staying at home through college to save money, but he would need a job and need to pay his way. Honestly, while it was hard at first, Steve preferred it that way. His father’s money had always come with strings, and this way, he was truly his own person. His mom hadn’t taken any of the money that his dad had initially offered when they split, either. 

“Don’t you dare,” Steve interrupted. “You and Nana need your typing money. Shouldn’t I be sending some to you?”

“Now, don’t you dare.” She threatened right back. “And answer my question.”

“Ok, ok,” Steve chuckled. “We’re just about all set. Robin has me set up with a whole color-coded system that’s supposed to help me focus. I’m only taking three classes this semester, anyway, to ease myself into it.”

“That’s a good plan.” She said, and his chest felt warm as he smiled.

“Thanks.” He said softly. He went on to update her, like he did every week, about everyone. Of course, his run-downs were NDA-friendly. He didn’t tell her everything . But he told her about how Dustin had tricked him into throwing a pool party, about Max recovering from the ‘car accident’ that she had been in and how she had moved from a wheelchair to crutches and finally was able to walk without assistance. He told her that the Sinclairs had actually started paying him for watching Erica, which was shocking but also really nice. 

She offered her own catch-up from the past week, about recipes that she had tried (and tried and failed), and funny things that had happened at her new job, and about this new book her favorite author had come out with. They only designated half an hour every week, to keep the phone bill down, and as it was coming up on time, she said,

“Ok, honey, remind me. What day do you start school?”

“On the twenty-fourth,” He answered.

“Perfect! Now, feel free to say no, because I’m sure you’ll have plenty to do to prepare. But, I was thinking I’d make a trip up to visit you so we can celebrate your first day. What do you think?”

“No way! Would you be able to? I’d love it if you could come down.” Steve exclaimed. That was only a week and a half away. He hadn’t seen his mom since Easter. 

“Yes way! Ok, it’s officially going on the calendar. Margie from two doors down said she would check in on Nana every so often, and since she’s been doing so good, I can make the trip. Think I could meet your friends?”

“Of course, if you want to. Where do you want to stay? I can chip in some if you want to get a motel room.”

“Oh, I can bully your father into letting me use the guest room, I’m sure.” She answered sweetly. He laughed. For as long as he could remember, his parents had always fought. They would get into furious, boiling fights with each other. It was like they couldn’t help it. Really, his dad’s affair had just been the excuse that Arielle had needed to begin divorce proceedings. For years after they had split, they couldn’t be in the same room as each other - things had gone from tempestuous and fiery to frigid, distant, almost invisible. Now, though, especially since Steve had become an adult, they faced each other when they had to. They could be civil, if uncomfortable.

“Sounds like a plan.” He said. “I’ll see if I can take off work. Shouldn’t be too hard.”

“Only if that works for you, baby.” She answered.

“It’ll work perfectly.” He insisted. They said their goodbyes, having gone over their time limit by a few minutes, and Steve hung up. 

He had a pool party to plan for.

Chapter Text

Eddie and his right-hand men showed up fashionably late to the first Harrington shindig they had ever been invited to - by the man himself, anyway. It was after 7, and the sun was beginning to set, but it was still warm. Cicadas were buzzing in the distance. Eddie had chosen a pair of short, forest-green swim trunks and a massively oversized t-shirt. He had even cut into the neckline so, if he wanted, he could hit that uber-demure falling-off-the-shoulder look for the next step of his plan.

When they walked up to the door and knocked, no one answered. Finally, they shrugged at each other, and Eddie turned the knob. The door swung open like butter. They walked straight through, vaguely remembering the house’s layout, mostly following the growing sounds of screeching teenagers, and finally stumbled out onto the back porch. There were tiki torches lit all around the back porch surrounding the pool, smelling like sickly sweet citronella. Steve, that little sweetheart, must have bought them to protect his kids from mosquitos, because Eddie definitely would have remembered fire at the King’s old ragers.

Mike was the first to notice the three newcomers from where he, Dustin, Lucas, and Max were in the pool with boogie boards bouncing up and down to make waves. El was sitting on the steps into the water with Will. Jonathan and Argyle were sitting on long plastic chairs next to each other, switching off the headset of a walkman. Robin was furiously reapplying sunscreen, even in the dying light, and Nancy was standing next to a table laden with food.

Eddie began to ask after their most gracious host when there was a scuffle in the kitchen and the man of the hour himself stumbled out, carrying a large stack of fluffy white bath towels. He wore a comfortable white tank top, the collar of which perched just under the delicate silver-pink scar around his throat, and bright red lifeguard-style swim trunks. The trunks, Eddie couldn’t help but notice (read: appreciate), were a smidge tight, especially around his thighs.

Steve gave them a quick glance over the teetering pile of towels and shot them a quick, charming grin. Damn him.

“Hey!” He said, walking around them and over to a chair to toss the towels onto. “I thought I heard the door, but then I dropped half of these stupid things and had to pick them all up. Sorry I didn’t let you in.”

“It’s no big deal,” Jeff answered quickly. Ever the peacekeeper. “Thanks for the invite.”

Steve stepped away and tossed the towels into a heap on the nearest chair, and then walked back over. He slung an arm over Jeff’s shoulder and leaned, chuckling a little as Jeff stumbled to get his feet back under him to support Harrington’s weight.

“Here’s the game plan.” He told them. “Pool’s open till 9:30. After that, we have games inside as everybody dries off and waits for their rides. Munchkins are out by 10:30. Obviously, all food and stuff out here is up for grabs. Red cooler is off limits to anyone still going through puberty, AND to whichever one of us,” he motioned to the older kids, himself included, “who draws the short straw and has to be the responsible, sober adult.”

“Boo!” Robin called from her chair.

Steve shoved his thumb in her direction emphatically. “What she said. But, as long as there are children around, life has to suck for someone. Now that y’all are here, we’ll pull.”

Eddie gasped, though it was mostly to cover his laughter. Steve took this whole hosting bit too seriously. No wonder it stressed him out whenever Henderson asked. “Making the Harrington House Virgins participate too?” He asked. “What kind of monster are you?”

Steve gagged as he pulled away from Jeff and grabbed a large plastic cup with some sports team emblem emblazoned on it. The cup was full of folded and crumpled pieces of paper.

“ Gross ,” Steve said. “And it’s only till 10:30. If one of you pulls it, I’ll allow two beers to loosen you up if you want.” He started passing around the cup so that everyone could draw a piece of paper. The chicken scratch writing was almost certainly his. Everyone grabbed theirs and opened them. Eddie peered over Jeff and Gareth’s shoulders and saw that both of their pieces said “Not it” before looking at his own. “It” glared up at him. He groaned and pouted for good measure.

“Sounds like Eddie’s our winner,” Nancy teased from his left. He stuck his tongue out at her. 

“I have been chosen,” He said mournfully. Steve smiled at him as he accepted the offending piece of paper back. 

“Ok, ok,” Dustin yelled hastily. “Now that’s out of the way, you can get right in the pool!” 

Eddie sighed dramatically, walking over to the water like he was approaching the noose. “ O, you must wear your rue with a difference! There’s a daisy. I would give you some violets, but they wither’d all when my father died. They say he made a good end. For bonny sweet Robin is all my joy. ” He cast his arm toward Robin, who was laughing with a streak of white down the middle of her face, sunscreen that she had missed. “ And will he not come again? And will he not -” 

He walked directly off into the water, not stopping as Mike hurriedly said, “No, no, no, wait -” Eddie fell right on top of him, taking Mike under with him.

There was a whoosh of water in his ears as he fell, and Mike, for good measure, dug one of his bony elbows into a tender part of his stomach as he flailed to get back up to the surface. 

Gareth and Jeff had already fucked off to the snacks table and renowned Red Cooler, dismissing his theatrics. He caught them faintly wondering at whatever treasures the Red Cooler held, and then enviously ogled the fancy beer and wine coolers they pulled out.

“Do you want something to drink right now, Ophelia?” Gareth called to him.

“Best not,” He answered. “Gotta space it out to make the most of my rations.” He let himself relax into the water and float. It’s blissfully cool, once he lets himself focus on it. The waves still left from the boogie boards do good work of slipping up and over his skin. The shirt he didn’t take off is puffing up over him.

Honestly, they had a good time. Even mostly-sober Eddie. The boys got tipsy fast, shirking their shirts and jumping into the water, and occasionally swimming to where they had left their drinks. The kids, Mike and Dustin, especially, tried to covertly hound them for drinks, and Steve kept a pile of diving toys - footballs and little things shaped like submarines and rings - to chuck at them each time they did. Steve had snagged a bottle of beer for himself - Corona, with a lime slice shoved down into it - and sat on the edge of the pool. The kids tossed a blow-up beach ball around. Sometimes, it would come Steve’s way and he’d spike it high into the air. Eddie exclusively tried to hit it with his forehead, with varying degrees of success.

Eddie and Gareth had agreed that tonight, at least while the kids were around, they would put a pause on their bet. Incessant flirting with the children’s babysitter was bound to introduce all kinds of unpredictable variables that neither party was interested in. Still, he couldn’t help but feel drawn to the other guy. 

Maybe he could use tonight for some reconnaissance: gather some useful info.

He swam up next to where Steve was sitting with his legs dangling in the water, crossing his arms against the scratchy concrete and resting his chin there.

“No pool for the King today?” He asked, leaning over to nudge Steve with an elbow.

Steve laughed a little, plucking at his tank top and pulling it so it lay out from his stomach. Eddie caught onto the action with simultaneous notes of curiosity and understanding. He’d left his shirt on too, after all. “Nah,” He answered. “No pool for me.” 

He nodded. Let no man say he was without at least a modicum of decency.

“It’s cool that you do this kind of stuff for the pipsqueaks.” He offered up. Behind them, Will was shrieking as El made a wall of water rise up and then fall onto him. 

“Yeah, man,” Steve accepted the compliment easily. “It’s fun. Most of the time.” Eddie watched as Steve slowly kicked up one of his legs, watched as it pushed up through the water and rivulets ran down through the dark hair there. “Thanks for coming out, I’m glad your friends made it too. I know we didn’t really know each other in high school, ran in different circles or whatever, but it’s cool to hang out with you all.”

Eddie snorted before he could help himself. Was Steve that oblivious? “Different circles,” He chortled. “Yeah.”

The look Steve threw at him was one of surprise, confusion. But, Master Socialite that he was, he schooled away that expression and breezed past it. Eddie barely tamped down on a vicious eye roll. 

Before this weird little interaction could go any further, Steve glanced at the watch backward on his wrist, so he had to tilt his hand up to read it, and whistled sharply. “There’s the time, children,” He called. “9:30, pack it up. Everyone grab a towel and pick a chair until you can swear to me that you will not drip all over my floor.”

The kids all grumbled a little, but obediently filed out of the pool, wrapped themselves up in bath towels, and scattered around to various seats to finish drying off. When their hair and swimsuits had gone from soaked to damp, they were allowed to move into the house. Most of them stopped at the snack table and loaded up on goodies before going in.

“Steve,” El called, and started making grabby hands at him when he turned to look at her. “Piggyback, please.” She said, face somber.

Instead of rolling his eyes and walking off like Eddie expected, Steve laughed - dare he say giggled - good-naturedly and walked over to squat in front of her.

“Your chariot awaits,” He declared. When she had wrapped her arms around his neck and he had swept his hands behind her knees to tug her the rest of the way up, her face broke out into a bright grin. He stood up fast and booked it to the doorway, making her whoop and laugh.

Eddie wasn’t sure what his face must have looked like, but Steve caught his eye and his gaze turned reproachful. He must have seen nothing good. 

“Tell me you didn’t love piggybacks as a kid,” Steve insisted, holding El’s legs protectively.

Yeesh. He’d poked mama bear accidentally.

“Beg pardon, my liege and lady.” He said, holding up his hands. The look he got as Steve passed him and carried El into the house told him he was probably going to be in for it later. El stared down from atop her ride magnanimously as she passed him by.

“Mouthbreather.” She sniffed.

“Damn right,” Steve agreed stiffly. Eddie wasn’t sure what he had done, but knew he was going to need to fix it fast.

Even though most everyone was dry, Steve made them all sit on the floor around the coffee table in his living room. He even made them fold up their towels underneath their butts.

“Since when was King Steve so anal-retentive about this shit?” Gareth whispered, not meaning for his jab to move beyond Jeff and Eddie. Nancy heard, though, and thankfully smiled at them understandingly.

“Since he turned 18, his dad considers him ‘financially independent’.” She made air quotes with her thin fingers. “Last time Dustin spilled a little bit of Fanta on the carpet, his dad hired a cleaning service and made Steve pay the bill. It was… not cheap. So Steve’s come a long way from his previous… let’s say laissez-faire attitude towards party guests.”

Gareth and Jeff both let out long whistles, only imagining what that bill must have looked like. Made a whole lot more sense, why Steve had been working any shitty job he could find around Hawkins, that’s for sure. 

The group split up into three smaller groups so that they could divvy up the board games that Steve brought out. Will, El, Mike, and Dustin commandeered Clue. Max, Gareth, Jonathan, and Nancy, took a deck of cards that was old and warped in the middle for an intense game of Egyptian Rat Screw in which Max absolutely obliterated all of them. That left Eddie, Steve, Lucas, Robin, and Argyle with Trivial Pursuit. To Eddie’s delight, Steve had broken out the RPM edition. He was going to school these suckers.

After the kids had all gone home, Nancy went up and raided Steve’s closet for changes of clothes for everyone. Nancy and Robin took turns taking quick showers, so when Eddie made it back to the living room, he found that Steve had already grabbed a bottle of tequila and Cokes for everyone to use if they wanted chasers. He was sitting on the floor again, with his back against the couch, already swathed in a comfy, worn sweatshirt and sweatpants. Based on the flush of his cheeks and his easy squinty smile, he had already gotten started on the tequila himself.

“Welcome back,” He said, flinging his arms wide. Nancy had provided Eddie with a plain grey long-sleeve t and a pair of shorts that were comfortable and smelled like Calvin Klein cologne. 

Argyle, sitting in the reclining chair next to the couch, gave a lazy salute and half a smile, too. Eddie slid in close next to Steve, who immediately offered the bottle of tequila to him. 

“Gotta say, Stevie,” Eddie said airily. “I kinda miss seeing you in those shorts.” He watched as Steve blushed, along the tips of his ears and a little down his neck. 

“You were responsible for a whole four hours, how did it feel?” Steve teased back, powering through as graciously as ever.

“I broke out in hives,” Eddie answered seriously, leaning in close to Steve’s face. “It was a betrayal of my very essence. I may never recover… but this is as good a way to start as any.” He took a swig of the tequila and immediately clocked a difference in the flavor. This wasn’t any shitty bottom-shelf liquor. He turned the bottle around and immediately clocked the label. Fucking Mezcal? Inwardly, he scoffed and rolled his eyes, before remembering that he needed to make sure he was still in the King’s good graces. “So, what was that before, with El?” He asked nonchalantly.

The side eye Steve shot him, instantly glinting with annoyance, caught him off guard. Should he have left it as it was? Steve motioned for Eddie to return the bottle to him and he took another sip.

“That kid was basically raised in a lab. She didn’t have a childhood.” Steve explained. Eddie sucked on his teeth, a sudden tightness in his chest. “My relationship with my dad isn’t stellar, but I remember him doing some things that were fun. Made me feel like a kid, in a good way, if that makes sense.”

“I didn’t know,” Eddie said haltingly.

“Yeah,” Steve said. “I get that. I’m sorry I snapped at you, I just didn’t want her to feel self-conscious or weird about it.” Eddie gazed at Steve’s profile since Steve was running a finger back and forth across the edge of the coffee table, not looking back at him.

The flush on Steve’s cheeks had darkened a few shades, even after recovering from the blush that had bloomed at Eddie’s flirt. The tequila was hitting Eddie first in the stomach, and creeping up. This right here went far beyond his flirting bet with Gareth: he had the presence of mind to step back from that for a minute, even though it was getting harder to differentiate his interactions with Steve as part of the bet, and his interactions with Steve as a person. Ruh-roh, that didn’t bode well… He filed that realization away to analyze later.

“You’re a good guy, Steve.” He finally said. That made Steve look up, seeming surprised. It made Eddie smile. “What?” He asked. “Are you about to tell me you’re not used to people singing your praises?” Steve rolled his eyes. That was more like it. “Seriously,” He continued. “I bet that means a lot to her.” The grin Steve shot his way was sweet. 

The warmth in Eddie’s belly might not have just been from the alcohol. He took a deep breath, accidentally reintroducing himself to Steve’s cologne, and thought that Steve was going to be one lucky son of a bitch if he got this shirt back. 

Jonathan came back into the room and bee-lined for Argyle. Jeff came back, too, and sat on the couch beside Eddie’s shoulder. Time for a shift in topic. Eddie angled himself toward Steve a little more.

“Alright,” He said decisively. “What’s your favorite color?” Steve let out a startled laugh.

“Color? Red. Like Animal, from The Muppets.” 

Eddie laughed at that one. “Fair. Dream car?”

“1960’s Thunderbird. Convertible.”

Eddie blew a raz. Nancy walked back in and sat at the other end of the couch, behind Steve. She took the bottle of tequila. “Desert island book.”

“Wha-?” Steve asked. “What’s that?”

“Oh, ya know, you’re stranded on a desert island and can only bring one thing to read. What is it?”

Steve groaned. “Not a big reader. Maybe The Shining ?”

“Acceptable,” Eddie said. Gareth walked in and climbed over him to sit on the couch next to Jeff.

“What about you?” Steve finally shot back. 

“Black. Mustang. Dune.” Eddie answered without hesitation, counting off on his fingers. “My turn again. If you could insert yourself into any movie universe, what would it be?”

“Hmmm,” Steve thought about it, and then a mischievous look stole over his face. “Weird Science.” He said, causing an uproar of boos from everyone around him. He giggled like that was exactly what he wanted. Robin finally reentered the room and took her spot on the floor right next to Steve.

“Ok, everybody here?” Steve asked, and was met with confirmation. “Jon, mind starting the movie?”

“Yep,” Jonathan agreed, hopping up and pressing the play button on the VHS player. As the movie started and everyone got comfortable, Eddie pretended not to see Steve glance at him furtively out of the corner of his eye. Instead, he smirked and turned forward to watch.

Chapter Text

The next time It happened was the day after the pool party. August 15th.

That morning, Steve and Robin were up before anyone else. They were getting ready in his room and en-suite bathroom.

“Eddie didn’t seem super flirty to me,” Robin noted, calling to him from the bathroom.

“Don’t sound so disappointed,” Steve ribbed in response, pulling on a clean shirt and jeans and watching himself tuck the shirt in from the mirror over his dresser.

“Aren’t you disappointed?” She asked curiously, though it was a bit muffled as she was brushing her teeth.

“Nah,” He answered, and that was the truth. He went over and jiggled the handle to the bathroom, finding it unlocked. He went in and slid his hand under the water Robin had running to re-wet his hair a little.

“Not afraid his interest is waning?” Robin teased dramatically, full gambit: looking up into the air, hand on her chest, with a pained sigh. Then, she leaned over to spit.

“You and Eddie should start your own drama club,” Steve laughed, and bumped her hip with his, causing her to stumble a few steps since she was off balance. “No, dipshit,” He continued, smoothing a little mousse through his hair. “Maybe the flirting was a one-off -”

“A three-off?” She cut in.

“Or maybe he came on a little strong to test the waters, like a… like a gay tolerance test.” He charged forward, ignoring her. Robin gave a hard snort at that, leaning close to the mirror and pulling her lower eyelid down to rub eyeliner at the corner. “Or, maybe it was just ‘cuz we were around the kids and people he doesn’t know that well.”

“That’s true.” Robin finally admitted. “Plus, he did sit beside you the whole night, which has to mean something.” She moved on to the other eye.

Steve didn’t dignify that with a response. “He was playing, like… 20 questions before you came down.” He offered up. “Asking me a whole bunch of questions. Basic shit, like “what’s your favorite color” kind of basic, but it was fun.” He shrugged. “It was nice. Like he… just wanted to get to know me?” He felt both unsure and bubbly, like he was on the verge of a laugh all the time. 

Robin finished up her makeup and offered a hip check of her own. “That’s because you’re a cool person to know, bub.” She said softly.

Steve shrugged it off, but it was obvious that he was still thinking about it.

“Whatever.” He said. “I still think we’re so different that it’s stupid random he’d be into me. But, it’d be cool to get to know him better. Like, friends would be good too. You know?”

Steve adjusted the fringe of his hair so it swept up and out of his face.

“You and Nancy were pretty different,” Robin said. “How’d you make that work?”

“It didn’t, remember?” Steve asked back. Robin gasped, embarrassed, but he shook his head and waved her off. “But I guess you’re right. Maybe that’s part of the reason why I don’t want to jump into whatever this is now. With Nance, she was really different too, but… I was excited to get to know her, and I thought I could… make up for the differences with being really into being her boyfriend? And that worked out so great.”

“We’ve talked about this, Steve,” Robin grouched.

“Yeah, yeah,” He dismissed. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore either.” 

“I still don’t see why he wouldn’t be into you.” She said, turning around and pushing herself up onto the counter.

“Ehh,” Steve began, curling up one side of his upper lip. 

“Have you ever thought about not doing your hair up like that?” She asked suddenly, and moved like she was going to touch it. Steve darted back, glaring. Robin rolled her eyes. “Come ooon,” She whined. “Just mess it up a little. I bet Eddie’d like it.”

Steve perked up a little before he could help it, and Robin caught onto that gleefully. He sighed and reluctantly gave in.

“If I don’t like it, I’m redoing it, and I’m blaming you for us being late.” He warned. She pointedly ignored his threats in favor of sinking her fingers directly into his hair and tousling it all to shit. He scrunched his eyes closed, unable to watch. He felt her tug at a few pieces in front of his face.

“Yeah,” She said. “Like that.” 

Steve ventured a look. She had just loosened up the style he had it in, really. The locks around his face framed it a little better, brushing his forehead and eyebrows and curling up towards his cheekbones.

He looked… softer. And he didn’t hate it.

“Ok, ok,” He admitted and waved her off as she clapped in excitement. “Let’s go before we get fired.”

They left the sleeping figures scattered throughout the house. Nancy had the key, and his dad wasn’t home till Sunday evening. 

The store had been dead all day. Steve flipped through a magazine as Robin took her break. He jumped a little when the bell over the door jingled, and he looked up to see Eddie sauntering in, Jeff and Gareth trailing behind him. They had all seemingly gone home since they weren’t wearing his clothes anymore, and Eddie was carrying a grocery bag which he tossed at Steve with a shark-like grin. Steve had to bolt up to catch it before it hit his face, but he found it was soft.

“Your clothes,” Eddie explained, leaning on the counter hooking one foot over the opposite ankle.

“Thanks, man,” Gareth mumbled awkwardly. He was wincing a little. Must have been a little hungover from the night before. 

“No problem,” Steve answered, stowing the bag under the counter. “Can I help y’all find anything?”

Jeff waved him off, pulling Gareth further into the store. Steve turned his attention back to Eddie, ignoring how he already felt warm. How he had felt warm ever since Eddie walked in.

“How ya feelin’?” Steve asked. Casual like.  Eddie grinned at him, lips still together but grin so big that his eyes scrunched shut.

“Peachy, now I’m here.” He answered. Steve scoffed a little, ignoring how just a cheeseball comment like that started making his stomach feel fizzy.

“Shaddup,” He said, without any heat. “I’m glad you guys made it out last night. Hope it was fun.”

“You were host of the year, Harrington, don’t worry. It was a once-in-a-lifetime experience.” Eddie answered.

“Those are sort of my thing, from what I’ve been told,” Steve conceded smoothly, prompting a startled laugh out of Eddie, right before he jumped right back into the fray with fervor. 

He took a long look at him. Gave him a long look up and down, then suddenly reached up to tug at a piece of Steve’s hair. “If you don’t mind me saying, I am really liking this new look.”

I don’t mind , Steve almost said back, but Robin came out of the back and pretended to gag.

“I’m just about sick of your ugly mug, Munson,” She said. As Eddie’s attention turned to her, Steve noticed dazedly that Eddie had a really nice smile. 

Robin crossed to the other side of the counter and tugged Eddie over a ways. He could sort of hear their conversation, if he wanted to, but didn’t try too hard. 

While Eddie was distracted, Steve gazed at him thoughtfully. He looked like he’d brushed out his hair so it looked fluffy and soft, and lighter when the sun caught it. He wore a black t-shirt that he’d cut a slit down the neck of, and a few necklaces that moved with him. He was wearing a plain, busted up pair of blue jeans, and a big, studded black belt, his ever-present bandana and dirty sneakers. It looked like the sole of his left sneaker was coming apart at the toe. His nails were painted a chipped black, and both hands were loaded up with rings. Some of the rings were thick and heavy silver, but some were more slim and dainty. He wondered if Eddie would ever let him look through them all, tell him where or why he’d gotten them. 

Same for his tattoos, a few of which were visible on his smooth, pale arms. His arms looked corded with wiry muscle, and some of the ink wrapped around his skin. 

Briefly, he tuned back in to their conversation. 

Eddie and Robin were going back and forth with each other, quiet but still animated. Steve caught something about Dorothy? Eddie called Robin “Dorothy”? And then Robin started singing the weird time song - that was when Steve stopped paying attention again. Robin had gone over it all with him, the secret gay code or whatever it was. That wasn’t important right now. 

What was important was that Eddie was talking, and he looked excited, open, happy, nice, and Steve liked it. Liked that Eddie looked like that. Liked looking at Eddie like that. Liked looking at Eddie. 

Oh. 

Well, shit. 

There it was.

Faintly, Steve registered someone clearing their throat. He startled from his spiraling thoughts to find Jeff and Gareth looking at him blankly, each with a tape in their hands.

“Oh, hey guys!” He said. Smooth. Definitely not dopey or awkward at all. “Sorry. I’ll ring you up.” He took the movies and scanned them. “I was telling Eddie, it was awesome that you all made it out to my place last night. We should do it again soon. It’s been a while since I’ve had actual friends besides the kids.” He joked.

“Yeah,” Gareth responded, but neither said much beyond that. 

He finished out each transaction. “Any plans for today?” He tried again. “Jeff, you’re starting senior year, right? Big plans before classes start up?”

“Not really,” Jeff answered. 

Goddamn, it was like pulling teeth with these guys. What was the deal?!

“Well, Robin and I are gonna try to go over to the new shop across from Melvald’s - it’s supposed to be like a mix up between a book store and a record store. Might be your speed, you should check it out. I think we’re going on Monday, if you want to come with?”

“Yeah, maybe,” Jeff said, taking his tape and receipt.

“Our speed?” Gareth parroted back, sounding a little hostile. 

“Uuuh, yeah!” Steve answered quickly, trying to explain before he’d even figured out what he’d said wrong. “You know, like music - you’re all in a band together, right? And books, like nerd shit…” Gareth rolled his eyes, throwing out his hand in a ‘there it is’ motion. “ Cool nerd shit.” Steve clarified nervously, but was afraid he was in too deep by then. He let his anxious chatter, and therefore the conversation, fizzle out, tapping on the counter and looking away.

“Well, not that this hasn’t been a delight , but…” Gareth said sarcastically, and grabbed his own tape and receipt from the counter. They both turned and walked over to Eddie. 

Robin’s mouth snapped shut mid-sentence when they walked over, and Eddie shot both of his friends an annoyed glare, but Gareth muttered something that made Eddie roll his eyes. Still, he offered Robin a fist bump and waggled his fingers with a wink in Steve’s direction, and they headed out. 

Robin turned to him and spread her arms out in question.

“I don’t know what happened, but I’d give my right nut to make sure it never happens again.” He answered, scrubbing a hand through his hair. “What was all that about?” He asked, waving to where Robin and Eddie had been standing. 

“You heard, right?” She asked. “I was just confirming. Like hell am I going to base something off of a rumor Tommy Hagan started.” 

Steve suddenly tried to swallow past the lump in his throat. “Confirmed?”

She smiled at him brightly. “Confirmed.”

He thought about the bright look in Eddie’s eyes as he’d talked to Robin. “Huh.”

They spent the rest of the shift not talking about Eddie, thankfully. Instead, they compared schedules for their upcoming semester. Thankfully, they were almost exactly the same, so commuting together would be less of a nightmare than they were worried about. Steve had taken on a lighter course load than Robin had, both so that he could work more, and so that he could take his time through his studies. But, the extra classes that Robin had worked out well still, and let him plan extra study sessions on campus while he waited for her. 

They rounded out their shift and traded off with a new girl named Gretchen who had come in as their closer.

“Hey,” Steve said suddenly, “So my mom is coming in town this weekend. Want to grab dinner with us, maybe Saturday night? If you’re free?”

“Awww,” Robin answered, “Yes! Let’s do it. Think we should pull out all the stops and go to Enzo’s?” Steve let out a slow whistle.

“You trying to impress my mother already, Buckley?” He teased.

“Why, is she hot?” Robin teased back. “I could have a thing for hot moms, you never know.”

“ Groooss !” Steve exclaimed, shoving her shoulder. 

“You didn’t answer the question! She’s a total smoke show, isn’t she?”

“God, Robin, stop talking! You’re officially uninvited.”

“Too late for that now. I’ll camp out at Enzo’s all night.”

“You’re the worst.” 

When they got to his car, he pretended to try to drive away without her, just for good measure.

Chapter Text

“I’m telling you, man, he was staring at you all real hard. If you want out of the bet, I’m giving you an out now. That shit made me nervous.” Gareth said.

The laugh that Eddie let out was almost embarrassing. Gareth and Jeff both looked serious as the grave, it might have been the funniest thing he’d ever seen. 

“Ok, one. He was probably staring at us because we were being obnoxious as fuck. Robin was singing Time Warp, for god’s sake. And two, you only want out because we’ve come this far and you’ve seen jack shit of this bet going your way. You’re trying to keep that signed poster away from me.” He said. They climbed out of the van and up into his trailer.

Wayne was in the kitchen, heating up a microwave meal for lunch. 

“Hi, Wayne,” Eddie greeted. 

“Hello, Mr. Munson,” Jeff said behind him.

“Boys,” Wayne returned their greetings gruffly, with a nod.

As they all settled down in the trailer’s living space, on the lumpy couch and worn recliner, the argument started back up.

“What if Steve has a crush on Robin, and he’s jealous that you were talking to her?” Jeff suggested quietly, trying to be more reasonable. That sent Eddie off on another giggling fit. The guys both looked at him reproachfully.

“Dude, what is up with you right now? We’re serious…” Gareth said. Eddie was trying to get himself under control, he really was.

“Hoo-Buddy,” he sighed, wiping a few fake tears from his eyes. “A man needs a good laugh in times like this. Thank you, really, I mean it.” 

“Don’t be a dick,” Jeff grimaced. 

“Ok, ok, ok, serious time now. Without betraying fair maiden’s trust, believe me when I say jocks like Harrington are not her type. There’s nothing to worry about there.”

“Duh, I could have told you that,” Gareth shot back. “She isn’t the part of this equation that I’m worried about.”

“Pretty sure Steve knows he has no chance,” Eddie answered. “Anyway, this changes nothing. We move forward as planned, you all see that I was right and Steve is a-ok with the gays, I end up victorious as usual.” Finally, everything sorted in his mind, he wrenched the van into gear, backed up, and started driving. “Now we have that out of the way, tell me more about this record store plan…”

After learning about Steve and Robin’s plan to go to that new shop in town, Eddie’s Monday was suddenly totally booked up with camping out to wait for them. Super casual, though, not in a creepy way or anything… 

Realistically, Eddie knew he was dragging his feet on the bet side of this. If he was being honest with himself, he was using it as an excuse to flirt with Steve. What could he say? The guy was hot, and dopey, and sweet, and fun to tease. 

Also, if he didn’t know any better, he would have said that Steve had been flirting back during his last trip to the video store, which had almost been too much for Eddie to cope with, paired with the actual fucking sex hair he had been flaunting. Again, realistically, that had probably just been Steve joking around.

Eddie would sautee a sock and serve it with a side of hashbrowns before he’d believe The Steve Harrington had been flirting with him on purpose. But this whole situation had been built on a fantasy, so Eddie really didn't think he could be blamed for indulging.

And that was the thing, right? As soon as he actually completed his part of the bet, it was over. Steve would reject him, one way or another, and he’d be duty-bound to stop flirting him, to stop being the reason Steve turned pink, to stop telling Steve how delectable he looked in swimwear and with his hair mussed and falling loose around his cheekbones… 

Woof. Maybe he had it worse than he thought. Moving on.

Eddie headed to Melvald’s first, combing the shelves carelessly. Thankfully, Mrs. Byers was working, so he didn’t have to worry about being reported for loitering. Double thankfully, the Wonder Twins showed up at the new shop relatively early in the day. 

Robin was decked out in a baggy pair of pants and a striped shirt with a little pocket over her left breast. Steve wore khaki pants, a navy blue t-shirt, and an unbuttoned button-up that was vertically striped red, blue, green, and tan. It made him look like a dad. His hair was in that same, new style it had been on Saturday, too. It made Eddie want to bang his head against the brick wall of this building for finding such an absolute square attractive.

He let them wander around inside for a little while before crossing the street himself and pushing open the door.

The new shop was cute. There were record stands in the front of the store, and then bookshelves lining the walls with a few standing shelves in the back. Steve, Robin, and the associate dozing at the register to the right of the door were the only people in. Perfect.

Steve glanced up when the bell over the door jingled and offered Eddie a friendly smile.

“Hey!” He called, waving at him.

“Well I’ll be damned,” Eddie said in response, pretending to be surprised. “What’s up, you two?”

Robin waved, too, but was two rows over and halfway through a collection of records, obviously not wanting to move and lose her place. 

“Whatcha got there, Harrington?” Eddie asked, nodding his head toward the record already tucked up into his armpit. Steve gave him a sly smile and slowly displayed the album… 

Eddie’s mouth dropped open in dismay. 

“Say sike right now.” He demanded. Steve started laughing.

“No way, man! I’ve been waiting to buy this one for months.” He answered.

“You have not ,” Eddie gasped in disbelief, reaching out like he was going to snatch it from Steve’s hands. Steve pulled the Wham! Album out of his reach and tucked it back protectively under his arm.

“Have too! This is the only thing that’s going to be playing in my house for at least the next two weeks.”

“I’ll see you in three weeks, then.” Eddie said. Steve laughed outright at that. 

“Alright, alright, what would you get? There has to be an album of people operating heavy machinery around here somewhere, right?” Steve asked.

Shocked, Eddie pointed a threatening finger at him, but had no actual threat to back him up, so he just stood there for a moment with his mouth hanging open before just grabbing the shoulder of Steve’s shirt and dragging him down an aisle. Steve let him, chuckling all the way.

Eddie scanned the aisles, intent on showing him a few Judas Priest albums (had to be tricky with those, wasn’t about to pull out their new shit with Turbo or anything). Instead, the end cap display caught his eye on the way, and he let go of Steve’s shoulder and ran over to it instead. 

“No way! They have it already!” He exclaimed, pulling out the first album on the shelf.

Steve came up and peered over his shoulder. “What’s that?” He prodded.

“This, Harrington, is Tribute .” He said reverently. “This is Ozzy Osbourne’s newest album. It only came out in March, I figured I’d have to go all the way to Indy before I could find it. It’s a live recording from a show back in ‘81, he put it back out for his lead guitarist who…” He stopped mid-rant to glance at the price. “...Died.” Stupid. That was way too fucking expensive. He definitely didn’t have that much on him. Or at all. He cleared his throat, trying to reel himself back in, and slid the record back. “It’s cool that they have it, I’ll have to reserve a listening booth for a while to see if it’s worth adding to my collection.”

“Your curated collection of zoo and construction noises?” Steve asked.

Eddie rolled his eyes. “Yuck it up, Harrington. You wouldn’t know real music if it slapped you across the face.”

Robin skipped over to join them around then. “Ooh, are we making fun of Eddie’s ‘music’?” She asked, using her finger quotes a bit too heavily, in Eddie’s opinion.

“Both of you are hopeless dweebs. You should be tripping over yourselves coming to me for music. “ He joked. 

“Oh no, whatever shall we do?” Robin pretended to faint, falling backwards into Steve’s arms.

“Eddie, please,” Steve played along, holding her up halfway. “You’re the only one who can save us, Robin needs to listen to the best album with a scary-looking vampire guy in a smoky room with upside-down crosses on it, but there are so many to choose from that I don’t know which one. She’ll die without it! You gotta help us!” Robin wailed, hand on her head, and wiggled out of Steve’s arms. He wasn’t expecting her to move that way, though, and ended up stumbling to one side and falling on the floor next to her instead.

Eddie flipped them both off for good measure, but all three of them ended up laughing. “You’re both insufferable dicks.” He told them. They high-fived each other like children and clambered up off the ground. 

“Ok, for real though,” Steve said. “I don’t think… Ozzy is my scene. Do you listen to… anything else?”

“Jee-zus, ease up.” 

“I didn’t mean it like that!” Steve said. Eddie waved him off.

“I know what you mean. And sort of, sometimes, but not really. I know what I like, you know?” He leaned in close, put just a touch of something to his words. From the faint coloring that touched Steve’s cheeks, he was confident he’d gotten it. “My uncle listens to old country. The good stuff, real ‘fight the power’ stuff. And before you sic Jon on me, I can appreciate the British underground. But listen, there’s his kinda stoner and my kinda stoner. We respect each other, but we’re real different.”

“Sounds to me like I could introduce you to some real music, myself.” Steve said. Eddie dubiously cast his eyes back down to the record he had been carrying around.

“Sure, sweetheart, whatever you say.” He said, and patted Steve’s cheek. Because he had self-control, he only allowed himself to notice how soft Steve’s skin was for an instant. He watched as Steve went from a cute pink to scarlet, and thought to himself that his work that day was done. “See you two later,” He sang, spinning around on his heel and waltzing out of the store. He didn’t even look back to see if he could catch Steve checking out his ass, even though he’d worn his tightest jeans just for today.

Since that had been his only plan for the day, Eddie went back to his trailer, planning to settle in with a record-breaking high and his guitar. He lay back on his bed, pulling the child-sized acoustic out to strum on, and picked out a few riffs just to practice. At one point, he flipped the radio by his head on and tried to play along to whatever came on the radio, letting himself concentrate on the crackling airwaves and the occasional echoing twangs when he plucked the wrong note. The trailer was hot, and he let himself get drowsy and his mind drop off. 

He was startled awake when Wayne came back in from work, throwing his keys on the counter and starting to bang around in the kitchen. Eddie stumbled out to join him.

“Bought some chicken on the way back,” Wayne mumbled to him, motioning to the grocery bag on the counter. “How’s chicken and rice sound?”

“Fine with me,” Eddie answered, grabbing the bag and the cutting board from beside the stove and a knife from the silverware drawer to start prepping it. “How was work?” He asked.

“Eh,” Wayne responded. “Willis is back from leave after that injury he got, so we weren’t spread so thin.” He threw a few packets of pre-mixed Spanish rice into the little banged-up pot he had gotten from a cabinet and measured out the water the packages called for.

They didn’t say much else as they got dinner together and then moved to the couch to eat. At one point, Wayne took a swig of beer and cleared his throat.

“Couldn’t help but overhear what you and your friends were talking about earlier.” He began, though he didn’t look up from his plate. Eddie couldn’t stop the rush of anxiety from shooting through him. “Ain’t you boys a little old to be playin’ pranks like that?”

“Don’t worry about it, Wayne,” Eddie reassured him. “It’s just some harmless fun. A good time. Plus, I’m literally doing it to prove that Steve’s a good guy.”

Wayne gave him a slow side eye. “Steve Harrington? That kid from last year?” He asked. Wayne was surprisingly good at probing without seeming like he was probing.

“Yep,” Eddie answered, popping the ‘p’ at the end.

“Seems like a good kid.” He observed.

“He is,” Eddie said, feeling inexplicably defensive.

Wayne snorted a little and shook his head. He took the empty plate from Eddie’s lap and carried all of the dishes back to the sink. 

“I know this word isn’t in your vocabulary, but try being careful with this one, huh?” Wayne suggested. “I’m gonna hop in the shower. Scrub those dishes when you get the chance.” And just like that, he was gone.

Eddie sat on the couch for a while after that, emotion roiling in his stomach. Why was the biggest thing he was feeling, the thing drilling like a hot poker inside him, guilt? That was stupid. What did he have to feel guilty about? He had agreed to do this for Steve. 

Maybe he was misdiagnosing himself, because it just didn’t make sense. Or maybe it was just Wayne - even (obviously) well into adulthood, Wayne still managed to be able to “put the fear of God in him”, as it were. This was a skill that Wayne had had to master quickly, and boy, had he. 

Eddie threw himself at the dishes to get them over with quick, thoughts spinning in circles. If he took a step back momentarily, he could see that he was working himself up. Wayne had just made a passing comment about the immature shenanigans Eddie was getting up to with his friends - it happened at least once a month. Still, though, he couldn’t beat the sick feeling that was now spreading in his insides. He felt like Wayne had caught him doing something. 

After finishing the dishes and on his way to his room, he burst into the bathroom where Wayne was thankfully just washing his hands. He let the door bang the opposite wall, and then crossed his arms, face scowling and stormy.

“Can I help you?” Wayne asked placidly, making sure to get soap up in between each finger and under each fingernail.

“Do you think I’m a bad person?” Eddie demanded. That got him an eyebrow raise, at least. That was something. 

“Why do you ask?” Wayne responded. Now, this was starting to piss him off.

“Don’t fuck with me like that,” Eddie said. “You say cryptic shit like ‘be careful’ and then walk away. What do you mean?”

Wayne turned the water off, hands sufficiently clean, and toweled them dry. “You know I wasn’t making any comment about your character.” He reassured him. “All I meant was to say that the kinds of shit y’all were talking about in there was high school stuff that woulda pissed you off while you were in high school. And I just mean be careful so you don’t let whatever tomfoolery you’re planning get on top of ya.”

Eddie grimaced in distaste, and Wayne sighed.

“You’re a good kid. You know that’s what I think about you, don’t get it twisted. Why don’t you turn in for the night?” 

Eddie tried real goddamn hard not to stomp off to his room like he was still a preteen, but he probably wasn’t as successful as he should have been.

Chapter Text

Chapter 7: Steve:

The next time It happened was on the 18th. Tuesday night, the day after their meeting in the record store, and it was… different. Special, maybe.

It was no one’s business but his own if he decided to buy the tape of the Ozzy album that Eddie had been so excited about, or Eric Clapton’s album “461 Ocean Boulevard” to show Eddie, too. It wasn’t a crazy, mind-blowing album by any means, but it was one of Steve’s mom’s favorites, and he wanted to share it with Eddie. New, shaky crush or no new, shaky crush, he thought it would be a nice gesture. 

And maybe he was hopeful enough that Eddie would listen to “Please Be With Me”, and “I Can’t Hold Out”, and turn into a gold star lyric-analyzer or something, and the song could do more than half his work for him. 

In a romantic way. 

Because Eddie liked music. 

That made sense, right?

All he knew was that Clapton put what he was feeling into words way better than Athletic Scholarship Harrington ever could. Like, 

“Oh my word, what does it mean

Is it love or is it me

That makes me change so suddenly

Looking out, feeling free” ?

Come the fuck on. That was romantic as shit. Eddie would totally pick up on it. Maybe if Steve was feeling particularly reckless, he would circle the track on the list on the back of the tape case.

Steve kicked Robin out of his car right when he pulled into her driveway, even as she poked and teased him about buying those little things.

“I was generous and let the car stop instead of kicking you out while I drove past.” He told her. “Now scram, pal.”

Robin giggled a touch hysterically. “You’re blushing so hard right now it’s actually crazy,” She answered. “Are you going to pass out? All that blood rushing to your head might make you pass out. Do you need to come inside, and lay down like a fainting Victorian woman? Is it safe for you to be driving like that?”

“Oh, my GOD , get OUT of my CAR ,” Steve yelled, instead of answering. He reached over her to pop open the door and then started forcibly pushing her away. She shrieked and giggled and finally left. He ran a hand over his face miserably (but not really), but waited till she had made it to the door and let herself in before he drove back home. 

When he made it back, he was in the middle of making himself something to eat (rolled-up cold cuts and cheese slices) when the phone rang. He picked up the receiver, tucking it between his cheek and his shoulder as he took a bite. 

“Harrington residence,” He said.

“Hi, Steve?” A woman’s voice asked.

“Yeah, that’s me,” He answered, a little more confused.

“Oh, good. This is Susan Har- well. Max’s mom?”

“Hi, Miss Susan,” Steve said.

“I was calling to… Well, this is a little embarrassing. I was wondering if you had any free time today to come and stay with Max? I know you’ve babysat her friends before, and I just picked up a second job. My work schedule is a little crazy right now, and I just found out that I need to go straight from one to another, so I won’t be home till midnight. You know Max, I know she can handle herself, but I hate to think about her all alone for that long. Would you mind too much?”

“‘Course not, I can definitely head over! Is she at home for the rest of the day?”

“She is. I really appreciate this, Steve, you have no idea. And I can’t pay you much, but can we say 50 cents an hour? Would that be fair? I don’t have much by way of food at the house, but you’re certainly welcome to any of it…”

“Don’t worry about it, Miss Susan. You don’t have to pay me anything. I’ve got it covered.” Steve reassured her quickly.

“You’re such a sweetheart, thank you so much. I promise I normally wouldn’t bother you at all, but Max didn’t take well to the nice girl who came over to watch her last time, and I know that you help out with her friends, so I thought… Well, anyway, I know this was last minute. As long as you can make it over by two or three, that should be just fine. Thank you again.” Susan rambled a bit nervously, and Steve tried to gently cut in to make her feel better.

“Sounds good, Miss Susan. I didn’t have anything else going on today, so I’ll be over probably in about an hour or less. We’ll see you when you get home tonight.”

About 45 minutes later, Steve knocked on Max’s trailer door. No response. He knocked again and thought he heard faint rustling from inside. He changed from knocking to drumming the beat of La Cucaracha until he heard a frustrated growl and the door was wrenched open a few inches.

“ What ?” Max asked, scowling. Steve gave her a wide, scrunchy smile.

“Your mom said you ate your last babysitter alive, so she sent me.” He told her. 

Max’s mouth dropped open, and her cheeks flamed red. “I don’t need a babysitter.” She spat. “You can go away now.” She tried to slam the door closed again, but he was already weaseling his way in. “ Steve . Fuck off .” She hissed.

“Not here to babysit,” He answered, taking his shoes off. “Here to hang out in the same space as you, watch some tv, and order a pizza. Unless you don’t want pizza?” He threw himself onto the couch and casually kicked his feet up on the coffee table, grabbing the remote to the tiny satellite tv and settling in. Max glared at him from where she still stood at the door, arms crossed and jaw jutted out in consternation.

“You’re worse than Mike.” She told him.

Steve bolted up out of his seat. “You take that back right now.” He said, pointing a finger at her. As offended as he was, it was almost worth it for the quirk of her lips. He’d almost gotten a smile out of her, and he’d only just gotten there - that had to be some kind of record. “See if I order you pizza now, you little shit.” Pretending to still be disgruntled, he settled back down onto the couch.

Mouth screwed up to try and keep from smiling again, Max huffed and stormed off to her room, slamming the door.

Steve decided on M.A.S.H. reruns for today. 

It was at least another hour and a half before Max came back out of her room. She claimed she just needed water, stomping over to the kitchen and filling up her glass. She stood next to the sink and watched the tv from there for a while. 

“You know,” Steve said casually, “you could come sit down. If you wanted.”

“I didn’t come out here for you,” Max answered venomously. Steve shrugged.

“Just sayin’,” he answered. 

“I don’t need an invitation to sit down in my own home. If you were a normal human being, you would be the one who needed that.”

“I know, I know, I’m extraordinary. People tell me that all the time.” Steve grinned, running a hand through his hair. Max rolled her eyes. 

“You’re the worst.” She told him.

“It’s kinda fun,” he answered. 

“Stop trying to be funny.”

“Not trying, I just am .”

“ Uuugh .”

As the next episode of M.A.S.H. started up, Max finally gave in and sat on the other side of the couch. 

Steve looked at her out of the corner of his eye. “You’re kind of like a cat,” He said. Her eyes cut to his dramatically, narrowed and dangerous.

“What the hell?” She asked.

He shrugged. “Just sayin’.”

“Do you ever shut up? God, you say the stupidest shit all the time.”

“Since I’m ‘worse than Mike’ apparently, then no, I never shut up.”

There was a pause, and then Max snorted, letting herself grin. She nodded, conceding the point.

“You ordered the pizza yet?” She asked. “Some kinda babysitter you are, just sitting around on your ass the whole time.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Listen here,” He began scolding her, even as he was pushing himself up and over to the phone on the kitchen counter. “You need to start appreciating me, rugrat.” The look she fixed on him was wholly unamused.

They spent the evening gorging themselves on pizza and breadsticks and watching old sitcom reruns. At one point, they had a belching contest. Steve pretended to be helpful when Max pulled out a sheet of math homework, yelling out random numbers until she flipped him off. Separately, they both wondered if this was what it was like to have a sibling.

Susan rolled up around 11:45 that night, right after Steve had bullied a dozing Max off the couch and into her room. Susan tried to slip a few bills into his hand, especially after she caught sight of the empty pizza boxes slid next to the trash can, and he tried to stay polite and respectful in his refusal. She finally let him go, asking him to be careful driving home.

He jogged down the trailer steps and around to the driver’s side door of his car before stopping, catching a glimpse of a figure sitting hunched over on top of a picnic table a few yards away. 

There was a plume of smoke rising steadily above the figure. That, plus the halo of frizzy curls around their head gave them away. Steve only hesitated for a moment before walking over. 

Eddie looked tense, in the line of his shoulders all the way down to his shaky hands, so Steve slowed down and approached a bit more carefully. 

He stopped at Eddie’s side and cleared his throat when the other guy didn’t immediately acknowledge him. 

Eddie startled harshly, fumbling the cigarette in his fingers and spitting out a curse.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Steve placated, holding his hands out in front of him. After a beat, Eddie looked at him and Steve saw slow recognition come back into his hazy eyes. 

“What the fuck, man?” Eddie groaned, scrubbing a hand over his face. 

“Sorry,” Steve answered. “Didn’t mean to sneak up on you. I was just leaving from watching Max all day.” He motioned with his thumb over his shoulder back to the Mayfield trailer. 

Eddie mumbled something unintelligible, and then nothing else. Steve stood awkwardly in front of him, taking in the dark bags under his eyes, the pull of his mouth in a grimace. He made his next decision easily and slid onto the table next to him. 

“Got an extra?” He asked. Eddie looked at him, groggy and confused. “A smoke.” He clarified, motioning to the one teetering off Eddie’s lips. 

Eddie swiped the beat-up pack on the table on the other side of him, knocked it upside down against the wood to settle the tobacco, and then held the pack out for Steve to grab one. Once Steve had, he dutifully followed it up with his lighter. Steve blocked the flame with a cupped hand against the wind and inhaled until his mouth filled with smoke. “Thanks,” he said, and leaned back with one hand behind him to look up at the sky. 

It was mostly cloudy, and quiet. Eddie didn’t try to speak again. Steve let him stew for a little while longer. 

“You ok?” Steve finally asked. Eddie snorted a derisive laugh. 

“Dandy.” He answered. Steve nodded. 

“Nightmares?” Steve asked bluntly, but he spoke a little softer, like he didn’t want the strangers sleeping in their trailers yards away from them to hear. 

Eddie screwed his eyes shut tight, sucked in a lungful of stinging smoke, and held it for a long time. As he released it, he shrugged. Confirmation enough for him.

“Pretty sure we all get them,” Steve said after a while. 

“Still?” Eddie asked tightly. 

“Yup.” Steve let his eyes fall to the dirt and sparse, dry crabgrass in front of him. 

A sigh. “I just want it to be done with already. I feel like a dumb kid again.”

Steve nodded. “Yup.” 

“It’s been a year for me. I know it’s been longer for you. It really doesn’t get better?”

“I didn’t say that.” Steve protested. “I still get them. The nightmares. I still freak at some shadows and shit. Didn’t use my pool for fuckin’… like, two years. But it does get easier. And… I mean, it’d be freakier if everything that happened didn’t affect us, right?”

Eddie laughed. “Yeah, I guess that’s true.” He put the cigarette back in his mouth and stretched his hands out in front of him, long spindly fingers looking even thinner in the moonlight and under the one orange street lamp a few blocks down. They were still shaking. 

Slowly, and hesitantly, Steve stretched out his own hand and settled it on Eddie’s back. He felt the other guy tense, but otherwise didn’t move. Just as slowly, he started to rub his back through the old sweatshirt he was wearing. He didn’t know if they were doing hugs yet, but touch always grounded him after something like this. It was the least he could do, really. 

They sat like that for a long time. Cicadas in the trees were so thick there wasn’t the usual pulse of sound, it was one long continuous hum in the background. Occasionally the wind would pick up, and it was chilly. Steve’s hand stayed warm on Eddie’s back. Their cigarettes had long burned out, the butts tossed on the dirt in front of them.

Before all of this, Steve never would have considered himself a capable source of comfort. By the time he was a gangly 14-year-old, all of his effort had been channeled into shoving his emotions down, bottling them up and then covering them with cotton balls so they didn’t rattle around, like pills in a plastic bottle, because he hadn’t wanted his mom to see that he was having a hard time when she was dealing with enough. He didn’t know how to help someone through something: he had a hard enough time recognizing his own issues.

Interdimensional monster trauma was something you couldn’t exactly hide, though. He still wasn’t all too sure that he was the best go-to for comfort. But, after enough frantic late-night calls, enough shameful crawls into someone else’s bed as frantic sweat cooled on skin, enough stress headaches, enough rising tension causing someone to lash out, enough dealing with this new family that had formed through crazy shit-faced trauma, and finding that this family was worth pulling through for, Steve had learned. He had learned how to pick up on signs - that someone was having a bad day. Or week. That someone liked hugs when they were trying to calm down. That someone didn’t like being wrapped up too tightly in a blanket. That someone really needed space. That someone’s comfort food was peanut butter cookies. 

He had started compiling little mental notes of how to help everyone in their patchwork group, but he didn’t have much for Eddie. All he knew was that it sucked being alone, and he could at least do something to fix that for a little while.

So, they sat for a long time.

Finally, Steve watched Eddie’s head nod as he grew too tired to fight it off anymore. He patted his back firmly to wake him up.

“Go on, sleep.” He told him. “I gotta drive home.” 

Eddie nodded, rubbing his eye with the open palm of his hand. He stumbled back to his trailer, calling a “Drive safe, Steve,” over his shoulder. 

Steve drove home slowly, in the dark and quiet, made it back, and crawled into bed. They’d be ok.

Chapter Text

Chapter 8: Eddie

A hot hand dragged up his bare, sweaty back, scratching fingernails up along his neck and finally twisting into his hair. Gooseflesh followed. He nosed at a long neck, taking a deep breath. He ground his pelvis at the curve where a hip met a thigh, thick and cushioned, and felt desire wrap tight all over him, tingling and heavy. 

He gasped, tried to take a deeper breath of the scent of the other person, moved one hand up and around ribs, his other hand higher so it threaded through soft, short hair. He tugged, and felt his partner sigh. 

Slowly, he moved his gaze higher, too, up a soft but defined torso, a thatch of wet chest hair, catching a few moles along that neck, past a square jaw, wide cheekbones, finally meeting the other person’s eyes…

Eddie jolted awake, disgustingly hot and sweaty, uncomfortably hard in his twisted-up boxers, arousal still spitting at him like fire starting on wet wood. 

It took a moment to clear his head, which was foggy from the heat of late morning, arousal, and sleep. 

By the time he did wake the rest of the way up, by the time he realized he had been dreaming, by the time he realized what the dream had been about, who the dream had been about, he groaned in utter embarrassment and threw his hands over his face. Unbelievable. This was actually fucking unbelievable. What the hell was he supposed to do now? He kicked his legs out petulantly, kicking the thin sheet off of his body.

“This is what I get,” He mumbled. “This is what I deserve. How pathetic can you get, Munson?” What had he expected, dicking around with a straight jock like Steve? He’d done nothing but tease the guy until last night, until he had the balls to come up and comfort him from a nightmare after babysitting his next-door neighbor. Laying it out like that sounded like the most ridiculous, bizarro world sequence of events. How was this his life? 

He was spiraling. He could sense it. He was just way too in his head about all of this. Flirting with a hot guy for that long would have been bad enough, but the shared history of the Upside Down, their shared trauma, it was all too much. He needed to get him - get Steve out of his system, that was for sure. 

It was about time for a little trip.

Friday, Eddie decided to treat himself right. He smoked a bowl early that afternoon. He fixed his hair with more care, polished his leather boots (the pride of his collection), slung on his favorite, heaviest rings and a few chains, his most ripped-up black jeans, and a baseball tee that he’d tried dying black and turned out a muddy dark green instead.

He left a note for Wayne telling him not to wait up, and then hopped into his van, blasted his music, and sped his way to Indy.

It might have been a last-minute trip, but since it was a Friday, he knew of at least two underground shows going on and thought he should drop by his favorite bar, too. Gareth might have gotten an invite if Eddie thought the other guy would have wanted to talk about anything other than the one topic he was currently running away from. But alas, this was one adventure he would have to go alone, nary a Gamgee in sight.

It was pushing 7:30 by the time he pulled up to 21 Club. He propped his feet up on the dash of his car and pulled out the joint he had brought with him to soothe his nerves. He always got rushes of anxiety when he went out like this - believe it or not, social interactions weren’t exactly his forte. Or at least, they didn’t come easy to him. It was kind of the same as performing, though - there was the rush of anxiety before, adrenaline that made him shaky but carried him through at the same time, and he would come out on the other side sated. It was cathartic. Maybe it was a little like a high he was chasing, too.

Smoke finished, he hopped out of the car, waved to the bouncer who was just then setting up his spot at the entrance, and headed straight to the sticky oak bar along the long side wall.

“Kathy!” He called to the bartender pulling tips out of liquor bottles. She was tall, curvy, and heavy set, with thick threaded muscles from weight lifting. She wore a large black and white band tee tied at the back, and a short flared schoolgirl skirt over black tights that were practically shredded with tears and runs and holes. Her hair was black and long, with bangs cut so she had to toss her head to keep them out of her eyes.

She tilted her head over to look at him with an easy grin. “Hey, man, what brings you out this way?”

“Oh, just missing you,” Eddie answered easily. She moved closer to him, rolling her eyes.

“What can I get you, Ed?” She asked, leaning her hip against the icebox.

“Your cheapest shot, please.” He requested sanctimoniously. “Actually make that two.” She gave him a sarcastic salute and poured two shots of what he thought looked like tequila. He shivered and second-guessed his request, though only for a few seconds.

She set them on the bar in front of him and he downed them in quick succession.

“Tab or check?” She asked. The gag he gave at the liquor was only slightly exaggerated.

“Eh, tab for now. Not staying long, I don’t think.”

“Heading down to Jay’s show?” She asked, moving around to continue prep and restock work while she stayed in earshot. 

“Oh, does he have something going on? Perfect.” Eddie answered. “I was planning to end up either at Jay’s or Underberg, one.”

Kathy nodded. “Underberg’s started a disco night on Fridays,” She warned, and he glanced at her in appalled disbelief. She gave a chuckle. “Don’t look so surprised, it’s really popular. Especially with the college crowd. They gotta make their money somehow.”

“I mean, I guess, but… That’s honestly worse than dealing.” He insisted. She laughed louder.

“No, I think you’re just a snob.” She shot back. He flipped her off and repeated her words back in a baby voice. She rolled her eyes but let a chuckle escape.

The alcohol had pooled in his stomach and heat was starting to rise. He waved his hand at her and angled himself to look around the place. She left to take care of another customer.

He spent the next hour or so people-watching and getting pleasantly drunk. The place slowly filled up the later it got, though it wasn’t packed. 21 Club was as popular as an underground gay bar got, and some nights were better than others. As such, Eddie caught a few wayward glances, a few subtle tilts of the head. If he hadn’t been planning to move on, he probably would have taken one or two up on their offers. Instead, around 9:45, he finished off the beer he had been nursing, closed out his tab with Kathy and slipped her a few extra dollars, and set out.

Jay’s was only about three blocks away. He had a performance area with a bar in the back underneath a distillery. Most of the bands that Jay lined up were anywhere from prog rock to full metal, and Eddie could appreciate the diversity (see, Harrington? Wait, not thinking about him…) but he hoped for something a little heavier tonight.

The first set was supposed to start right at 10, so he grabbed a beer from the bar and elbowed his way toward the front, a little to the right of the main stage and right along the barrier. The crowd here was much thicker than at the bar, and cigarette and weed smoke hung in the air. Elbows and shoulders and thighs brushed against him and he welcomed it. When the music started and sound blasted through the speakers next to and in front of him, vibrating his sternum and slowly but surely turning his hearing to mush. Just what the doctor ordered.

In the break between the second and third band, Eddie muscled his way back out of the crowd and to the bar. He took off his jacket and tied it around his waist, and then leaned over the bar to order himself a drink. 

As he was waiting, another guy came up to the bar beside him, settling his elbows on the counter and hanging out until a bartender caught his eye. Eddie looked him over appreciatively, though cautiously (as always). He was a little shorter than Eddie, though not by much, and had fluffy blonde hair cut into a short shag that curled around his ears. He was dressed like a jock (don’t think about it, Eddie) in a tight t-shirt that came high up above his collar bones, dark jeans, and a pair of sparkling white Air Forces. He was slimmer than - (jesus christ, Munson) - well, he was slim, but tan, and had dark, tilted, mysterious eyes that Eddie liked. A lot.

A bartender finally took notice of Blondie, and he leaned over to order. The bartender left again. Eddie shifted a little, and Blondie glanced over at him, met his eye. Eddie crooked a grin at him, a well-practiced grin between sharp, suggestive, placid, and non-threatening that could be interpreted… however the receiver wanted to interpret it. You know? Eddie got a similar look in return.

When the bartender came back with a short plastic cup and slid it over, Eddie cut in and held up a couple dollars. Blondie shrugged, took the drink, and let Eddie pay for it, turning around to let the bar fall in a hard line against his back, sipping the drink. Eddie moved closer, again in that it’s-a-come-on-if-you-want-it-to-be, otherwise-I’m-just-getting-closer-because-I-can’t-hear-you-in-this-loud-bar kind of a way. Blondie reciprocated in that same precise, surgical way by angling his body toward Eddie.

“Thanks for the drink,” Blondie called over the filler music playing over the speakers. Eddie shot him a killer smile.

“Sure,” He yelled back. “How’re you liking the music?”

“I could use a break, to be honest,” Blondie answered. “It’s pretty loud.”

“Want a smoke?” He offered. Blondie nodded. Eddie hooked a finger under Blondie’s tight shirt sleeve and tugged him forward. They both chugged their drinks on their way out the back entrance. There were a few people outside, though they were mostly staff members on their breaks. Eddie led Blondie further down the alleyway, to a spot where the wall jutted out and blocked them from immediate view of the door, pulling out a couple cigarettes because he was good on his word, and a civilized human to boot.

“What’s your name?” He asked in a friendly way.

“M-Marty,” Blondie stumbled over himself quickly, obviously lying. Eddie snorted hard, but pulled out a lighter and lit his cigarette in lieu of making a comment about it. “Yours?”

“Oz,” Eddie answered, mostly poking fun, and ‘Marty’ laughed too. He sounded a little strangled. “Nervous?” He asked, trying to be kind about it.

“No,” Marty insisted defensively. Eddie held up his hands placatingly.

They stood for a few beats and smoked together, and Eddie could feel both of their nerves amping up a little, nervous about interacting with each other and nervous about getting caught. All regular.

Surprisingly, Marty was the one who turned to Eddie first. He flicked the cigarette away, only half smoked, reached up, and hooked two fingertips right under the collar of Eddie’s shirt, flicking at the top button. Eddie’s cig followed Marty’s tossed sparking onto the concrete.

“Hey, Oz?” He asked.

“Yeah-huh?” Eddie answered casually, still leaning against the wall, letting Marty take the lead.

“Kiss me,” Marty requested, breathless. So, Eddie pushed himself off the wall, grabbed the front of Marty’s shirt to pull him closer, and pressed his lips to the other man’s.

They both smelled that particular concert smell - old and new sweat and smoke and liquor and soured cologne. Honestly, Eddie liked that smell. Marty’s lips were a little chapped, but hey, he was only human.

Marty’s fingers inched up under Eddie’s shirt to curl over the tops of his hip bones. Eddie pushed Marty gently, less guiding and more suggesting that Marty lean himself up against the cold brick wall. Marty took the hint. They broke their kiss and Eddie pulled back a little to look at him, lifting a hand to trace Marty’s jawline.

That was about when they were rudely interrupted with a “What the fuck?”

Marty first went rigid as a stone and then moved so fast Eddie lost his bearings for a minute, panic shooting through his own veins. 

Suddenly, Eddie was the one who was against the wall, one hundred thousand times harder than he had pushed Marty, fuck you very much. His head smacked the wall hard and by the time he harshly blinked his vision clear, Marty was standing slightly behind two other guys, way more beef head jock than he had been. You can tell, see, by the deadness in the eyes.

“Were you -?” One of the guys accused Marty, spluttering, pointing a damning finger at Marty, who was deadly-ghost-pale.

“What?” Marty asked breathlessly. “No! He, I was just coming out for a smoke, and he offered me one and then totally came on to me.” Again, an obvious lie, but maybe Eddie just had a special gift, because the two new characters in this little slice-o-life bought it instantly and turned on Eddie.

“When we’re done with you…” The other one began, laughing menacingly. Eddie felt his heart jackrabbit.

“Nah, man, come on. The next band is probably already started, I don’t want to waste any more time out here.” Marty sneered, grabbing one by the shoulder and turning him.

Thankfully, they seemed deterred. One spat at him, or toward him (it hit the concrete about 8 inches away), but they all barrelled their way back inside. Marty didn’t take another look at him.

Shaky, Eddie stayed where he had been thrown for a few minutes. Once the adrenaline had worn off, that first jolt of fear that he was about to have his face rearranged, all that was left was bitter wormwood shame and anger. He tried not to think too venomously of Marty - he had ultimately saved him, hadn’t he? 

But Eddie still felt dirty and used and hopeless. There was no way that he could go back to watch the rest of the concert, either, for fear that he would run into any of them again and they would rethink. So, he stole his way back to his van. It was pushing 1 AM anyway if he had to guess. 

He drove back turning his music up as loud as he could, trying a little to chase the eardrum-numbing levels of the concert, blinking away the blurring in his vision and telling himself it was just because it was late and he was tired.

By the time he made it back to Hawkins, it was technically early the next day. He lowered the volume of his music finally and thought that he couldn’t remember if Wayne had worked the night shift that night and would therefore have just gotten in and laid down to sleep. Because he didn’t want to wake him by pulling up and getting into bed himself, he pulled off at the entrance of a park along the outskirts of town, parking in a desolate little corner of the smaller parking lot along the far side of the park. 

He pulled out his remaining joint, reached down between his legs to pull the lever and push his seat all the way back, and swung his feet up against the dash to watch the sky turn from dark to blue to pink to orange as the sun started to rise, and to try and let his hurt mellow out a little.

He had been there for maybe an hour when he spotted a figure out in the distance running along the winding path that circled the park. He laughed to himself, thinking about overachievers and ridiculous dweebs who woke up as the sun rose to go running . The absurd distraction felt nice, until the figure got a little closer, and then closer still, and their figure became more defined and… recognizable.

Eddie watched in shock. This… had to be rock bottom, right? Because while Eddie was sitting in his grungy, sweaty, weed-filled van, in sweaty, greasy clothes from his absolute shithole of a night, right there in front of him, running shirtless and golden and glistening, taking long, confident strides, elastic muscles stretching, was Steve goddamn Harrington.

Every single higher being and their motherfucking cousin was out for Eddie Munson’s head on a stake. The multiverse was dumping every bad opportunity right onto his head.

Steve looked peaceful.

Eddie was cursed.

He shook his head, laughing with disbelief, but the laugh bubbled up from a vat of poisonous, disbelieving anger. Yeah, fuck himself for feeling bad about having some fun. So what if it was at Harrington’s expense? The guy was too fucking perfect, and Eddie was tired. He was tired of feeling bad, of working so hard to be considerate and understanding of guys like Steve and fucking Marty McFly . He was tired of wanting things he would never fucking get.

Eddie started the van back up, wrenched it out of the parking spot, and sped home.

Chapter Text

It would have to wait until after this weekend to happen again, and he had plans this time. This weekend, though, was booked.

Steve worked half a day on Friday and went to the grocery store on the way back home. He got simple ingredients for a meal to make that night, and a few odds and ends for meals through the rest of the weekend that were a little more hearty, because this was the weekend his mom would be in town.

When he was carrying the groceries in, he passed his father, who was dressed in a light pair of khakis, casual brown loafers, and a wine-red cashmere sweater, as he rolled a small suitcase out to his own car.

“Your mother can stay in the second guest room.” He instructed distantly. “That’s the one that has towels stocked. Do you know when she’s leaving?”

“Mid-afternoon on Sunday,” Steve answered, juggling the grocery bags in his hands.

“Are you sure?” His dad asked.

“Yeah,” Steve answered. “She has to get back early in the evening for work on Monday.”

“Fine. I’ll be back after she’s gone.” He continued on without another word. Steve waved sarcastically at his back before continuing on. He put everything away except for the ingredients for that night, and since it was after 5 already, he pulled out his mom’s old recipe cards and the cookware that he needed.

He was halfway through peeling the potatoes when there was a knock on the front door. He swiped his hands on the towel on his shoulder and ran to the door, pulling it wide with a bright smile for his mom.

Arielle Cody was a tall woman, with long, thick brown hair streaked with frizzy grey. She wore a bright red turtleneck under a jean vest, and comfy, soft corduroy pants. She had a heavy carpet bag slung over her shoulder.

“Baby!” She exclaimed, flinging her arms wide.

“Mom!” He exclaimed back, falling into her welcoming hug.

They pulled away and she plucked at the towel on his shoulder. “Don’t tell me you got started without me?” She asked. He grabbed her carpet bag from her.

“I figured you’d be hungry by the time you got here. So dinner’s about halfway done, and Dustin and Mrs. Henderson are on their way here.” He told her, pulling her in.

“Oh!” She crowed, stomping her feet on the entryway. “I’m so excited to meet your friends.” Steve laughed again, setting the carpet bag down on the couch. Arielle walked into the kitchen. “Alright, what do we have going on?”

He motioned to the recipe cards on the counter, and she leaned over to read them while washing her hands.

“Chicken’s marinating in the fridge, just with buttermilk and salt. Potatoes are almost done peeling, and then I’ve got veggies to chop up and saute?” He said.

Arielle smacked a kiss on his cheek. “Sounds perfect, baby. Let’s do this.” She gathered the veggies to start rinsing and chopping. He turned back to the potatoes. As they worked, he asked about her drive, and how his grandma was doing. She asked how work had been, how he was feeling about starting school.

At one point, hands covered in broccoli bits, she reached over and grabbed both his cheeks in her hands. “I can’t believe I’m looking at your face right now,” She said.

“Mom!” He squawked, giggling, and batted her away. The face she gave him was something between a kissy and fish face. One of her specialties.

He plopped the potatoes into a big pot and set them on one of the back burners to start them boiling, and rubbed each cheek onto each shoulder to try and flick away any stray broccoli. Arielle seasoned the veggies and then laid them out in a wide pan on the stove, and Steve brought out the chicken, lay it on a tray, and stuck it in the oven.

Another knock came from the front door, and Arielle went to get it while Steve washed his hands.

He listened to her greeting Dustin and Claudia. Dustin ran in and gave him a quick, haphazard hug, and then Steve followed him back out of the kitchen to greet Mrs. Henderson.

“Steve!” Claudia exclaimed. “You look just like your mother, it’s just the sweetest thing. And I was just saying it smells amazing already! I’m not much of a cook, but is there anything that I can help with?”

“Steve runs a tight ship around here,” Arielle joked. “I’ve just been finishing up a side dish! Do you want to mash the potatoes? Boys, do you mind setting the table?”

Marching orders set, they all went their ways. Steve and Dustin set out plates and silverware, filled water glasses, and grabbed cans of soda if requested. While they were in the dining room, Steve awkwardly said,

“Hey, tell me something. If… If someone wanted to make… erm. Hobbit? Food? What would someone… make?” Dustin shot him a piercing, searching look before it gave way to excitement.

“It depends, the hobbits live a robust culinary life. Ultimately, it would be a safe bet to stick with a traditional British diet, though, considering they observe afternoon tea.”

“So like, what about a -” Steve cleared his throat. “Like, a hobbit picnic, what would that look like? Fuckin’... beans on toast?”

“A picnic?” Dustin asked suspiciously.

“Just answer the question, wise ass.”

“Keep it simple.” The answer came immediately. “English muffins, jam, cheese, tea. Maybe little sandwiches.” He paused and thought a little more. “If you wanted to get fancier, you could do mini shepherd’s pies. Or mince meat pies.”

Steve nodded, trying for suave.

“Now, why?” Dustin demanded.

“Hey, chill out ,” Steve answered defensively. “Just looking for a little food inspiration. That’s all.” Dustin narrowed his eyes.

“And it has nothing to do with a certain mutual friend who also likes Hobbits?” He asked searchingly. Steve’s eyes widened.

“No,” He denied quickly.

“That description could have applied to most of our mutual friends.” Dustin wheedled. “You wouldn’t say no like that if we were talking about Will. Or Mike. You wouldn’t say it like that unless… unless it’s someone you like! Is it Robin? Are you finally asking her out?” He asked excitedly. Steve gagged.

“Robin isn’t that kind of nerd.” He dismissed, realizing too late that he’d just given Dustin too much information. 

“If it isn’t Robin… IS IT EDDIE?!” Dustin was, admittedly, getting better at those whisper screams. Now was just not the time.

“What?” Steve asked frantically. “No!”

“It is!” Dustin continued, undeterred. “It totally is! You like Eddie! And you’re trying to make a hobbit picnic for him?”

Steve pointed his finger at him threateningly. “You shut your mouth. You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Your first date is going to be a Hobbit picnic, that’s perfect,” Dustin continued, flat-out ignoring Steve’s threats, carelessly darting around the table as Steve started chasing him.

“Shut up,” Steve yelled. This was, without a doubt, the most embarrassing thing that had ever happened to him. He successfully grabbed Dustin’s shirt and pulled him in, immediately wrapping an arm around his neck in prime noogie formation. Dustin shrieked triumphant laughter, which was not what Steve had wanted at all. He had been looking for dismay, wailing, general begs for mercy.

Arielle and Claudia poked their heads out of the kitchen to smile at them fondly and then retreated.

Dustin managed to finagle his arm up so he could poke Steve teasingly in the side, and he felt himself beginning to relent.

“Ugh,” He finally said. “Ok, ok, you can’t tell anyone. Seriously. If you tell anyone, you’re dead, hear me?”

“I’ll tie myself to your back bumper and let you do figure eights at the junkyard for two hours,” Dustin promised, which was… nice? He guessed? Steve let him up out of the headlock, and Dustin’s face popped up before his, surrounded by a wild head of hair.

“Ok, fine. I’m planning on asking him out when I drop you dweebs off for your thing on Monday. Are you happy?” 

“ Yes , this is amazing. He’ll totally say yes, this is perfect .”

There was a little pause as Steve gave Dustin a nervous side-eye.

“So you don’t… care?” Steve asked hesitantly. “That he’s a guy, I mean?”

Dustin shrugged. “I grew a lizard that ate my cat. We’re kinda beyond sweating the little stuff.” He answered simply. Steve grinned and felt something that he hadn’t even noticed was tight in his chest ease up.

They all sat down for dinner soon after.

Partway through, Claudia said, “Arielle, I wanted to tell you your son has been such a blessing to Dustin and me. He’s been exactly what we’ve needed.”

“I’m so glad. I’ve loved hearing all about you two from Steve, too. Thank you for being here for him. For being his family at home when I can’t be.” Both mothers grew misty-eyed, and the sons squirmed, a little red, in their seats. “We’re having dinner with his friend Robin and her parents tomorrow. You have to tell me since he won’t: is there something there? A spark? Anything?” She leaned over to Dustin to ask.

“Mom,” Steve groaned.

“Nah,” Dustin answered smugly. “She’s not that kind of nerd.”

“Wha- you- shut- guh.” Steve sputtered, eventually opting to hide his face in his hands. Everyone else cackled and finished eating.

The next morning, Steve took Arielle to his favorite park. She brought a book - a little paperback she had bought secondhand - and he went for his regular run up and around the easy, empty trail.

Having his mom in town (besides it being great to see her) gave him something to focus on that wasn’t Eddie Munson or his nerves about starting college.  Running helped with that, too. For a little while, he was able to push any thought out of his head except for thoughts on keeping his form correct, pushing his heels and toes to the ground, keeping his ankles strong, pumping his arms, breathing evenly. This early in the morning, it was starting to get cold, too, promising the end of summer. He kind of liked the way it burned in his lungs.

Keeping fit like this was a mixed bag sometimes. He drew a lot of confidence from sports performance. He liked being good at something like this, too, because he was good at it in a way that he could see, and calculate, and be sure of. It was a considerable source of anxiety, too, though. He felt like he could lose it all too fast. He could feel himself slipping if he skipped a couple days, much less a whole week. He was having to monitor his food more closely now that he wasn’t in regular team sports with scheduled practices. 

He tried to keep himself from wondering what he had to offer besides his looks. He pushed himself to up the pace a little bit. 

Steve stopped next to his mom’s spot on a bench on his fourth lap around. The sun had fully risen and was warm on his skin. She looked up from her book with a grin.

“Sufficiently sweaty?” She asked. He nodded, breathing heavy.

“Sweat quota has been met,” He answered.

“Good.” She said, closing her book with a decisive snap. “Because I want pancakes.” Steve let out a bubbly laugh.

“Alright, alright, pancakes sound ok.”

After pancakes at the diner for breakfast, they went back home so that he could shower and they spent the afternoon walking around town. 

They had dinner with the Buckleys that evening. Mr. and Mrs. B raved about Steve and Arielle gushed over Robin. They had come armed with a picture of Steve and Robin in their Scoops uniforms, which Steve certainly did not remember having been taken, and Arielle enjoyed a bit too much. All in all though, Steve counted the evening as a success.

Walking through the parking lot on the way to their car, Arielle nudged Steve gently with her elbow. “Robin’s pretty cute,” She said casually. 

Steve rolled his eyes but agreed. “Yeah, she is,” He said, sounding fond. “But she’s gonna get a big head about it if people keep telling her that.” He joked.

“Mhm,” Arielle grinned. “Sure there’s nothing there? Not even a little something?”

Steve groaned. “Mooom…” 

“Her parents seem like they’d make pretty good in-laws, too, just saying.”

“No!”

She moved closer, looping her arm in his as they walked.

“Ok, ok. I’m just a crazy old lady, what do I know? But come on,” She shook his arm a little. “Spill! Has there been anyone who’s caught your eye? I don’t think I’ve heard you mention anyone since Nancy…”

He shrugged. “There hasn’t really been anyone since Nancy. No one real, yet.” He answered. They stopped in front of the car, and he paused for a minute and considered. “I do… like someone though.”

Arielle squealed and hopped from foot to foot. “I knew it!” She poked his chest. “Perfect boy like you can’t stay single for long. Tell me about her!”

“Well…” He hesitated, giving his mom’s face a searching glance before looking at the ground, scuffing his shoe on the concrete. Part of the parking lot was paved, and part was gravel. He rolled a rock under his foot, back and forth. “He’s kind of like Robin, in some ways. Like, going on rants about things like he can’t help it. Gets really excited. He’s such a nerd, it’s crazy. He’s in a band.” He hazarded a glance up at her face, trying to ignore how fast his heart was beating.

Arielle looked surprised, and blinked at him a few times before the expression melted away into one of fond amusement. “Yeah?” She asked encouragingly, nudging his shoulder to get him to keep going. He let out a breath.

“He’s got that obnoxious bad boy look. You might hate it, but you’d mostly probably laugh. Like, tattoos and leather and long hair, the whole bit. But no one can actually be cool and then sit around a table playing imaginary dragon games.”

Arielle laughed delightedly. “You’re so mean,” she chuckled.

Steve shrugged. “Doesn’t mean he’s not a dweeb,” he answered. “He plays the game with the kids I babysit, though. It’s kinda cute.” 

“Aw, he sounds sweet! What’s his name?”

“...Eddie.”

“I’d love to meet him sometime. Maybe when it starts to be something ?”

“Yeah, if it starts to be something.” He agreed. “I’d like you to meet him, too.”

They got in the car and started driving home. 

Honestly, Steve felt like the luckiest person in the world at that moment, so he didn’t know why he felt the need to push his luck. After a few moments though, he asked,

“So… you’re cool with it? It’s ok that.. you know, I like a boy?”

Arielle smiled, looking briefly at him and then back out at the road. 

“Your aunt was like you. Or, the opposite way. You know.”

“Really?” Steve asked, surprised. Brandy, Arielle’s sister, had died when Steve was super young. Too young to really remember her. He was pretty sure it had been a car accident. It had never felt right to bring it up again or ask questions about her when he was old enough. 

“Yeah,” Arielle answered. She sounded sad and happy at the same time. Maybe it was just love in her voice that he was hearing. 

After his mom left on Sunday with a tight hug and three quick kisses to his cheek, he went up to his room and got out the tapes he had bought, wrapped them carefully in newspaper, and set them on the corner of his desk so he didn’t forget the package in the morning. Then, he started pulling things out for the morning and getting ready for bed. No one, he was pretty sure, would have been surprised to learn that he was a romantic at heart. He knew he could get a little carried away. While he changed into an old ratty pair of sleep shorts, he promised himself he’d keep it small at first - asking Eddie out, taking him on a picnic. Dating for a couple weeks. There was a fall festival that would start up in a little over a month, that had hayrides and haunted corn mazes. He bet Eddie would love that. He imagined asking Eddie to be his boyfriend on a hayride while he brushed his teeth.

Steve had never had a boyfriend before, not really. The last time he’d tried had ended… poorly. It had gone poorly the whole way through if he was honest about it. The whole thing had kind of fucked him over.

But Eddie wasn’t like that. He was nice, and seemed to really like Steve, and was flirty and fun and honest and handsome and… Steve made himself roll over in bed and try to get some sleep for his first day of classes in the morning, even though his chest felt fizzy with excitement and nerves. 

Chapter Text

Early Monday evening, Eddie found himself staring down the large metal doors of a place he thought he had finally shaken off like a scourge. 

And yet, he was on his way back into Hawkins High. For the opening night of this year’s campaign, they thought it fitting to use the same space in which Hellfire had originated, and Eddie couldn’t refuse. He was a sucker for a little symmetry. Plus, it beat shoving everyone into his trailer and using the coffee table and the floor for everyone’s binders and notes and dice. It was more official.

He walked up to the doors and knocked loudly, waiting only a few beats before the door was kicked open and Jeff let him in. They pulled over a loose brick to shove between the door and the frame to keep it open for the rest of their group, once they arrived. Then, they descended.

The two worked together in relative silence to pull the main table out to the middle of the floor, set up chairs all around it, throw a black tablecloth over top and set up their stations. Eddie pulled out a thick binder that was falling apart, flipping through to his notes for this session, which was full of little doodles of Ouroborusses and dragons and spooky trees. Maybe they weren’t his best work, but they were something. Just a pinch of inspiration. 

Eddie was still sore from that weekend - bitter and angry - but the feelings had settled somewhat. They were dozing in his chest. Thankfully, Wayne had worked all weekend, allowing Eddie to sulk in peace until he went so stir-crazy it felt like ants were crawling under his skin. He was looking forward to throwing himself into one hell of a campaign, forgetting the real world and its stupid fucking issues.

After him and Jeff, Gareth was the next to show up, with a friendly middle finger and sardonic smile.

Anthony and Ty, who were juniors this year, came in after Gareth, late and sweaty from band auditions out on the green. 

Now to wait for Harrington’s brood. 

The juniors and Jeff began comparing class schedules and homework loads that had been assigned and Gareth sauntered over to lean his hip against the table.

Eddie leaned back in the chair and kicked his legs wide, looking up at him. Somehow, before the kid had even opened his mouth, Eddie just knew he was about to say some stupid shit that was going to piss him off. 

“How can I assist you, brave soldier?” He asked.

“Oh, I just wondered about the current state of our bet. There’s a show this Friday. I need your van to get me there.” Gareth poked with a grin. Exactly what Eddie hadn’t wanted to think about… perfect .

Eddie scoffed. “Don’t worry about our little bet, Gary .” He sneered. “Everything is going according to plan, we’ll see who wins soon enough.”

Gareth rolled his eyes. “Really? ‘ Going according to plan ’? Because I’ve seen exactly zero percent of the agreed-upon action. The bet, if you’ll remember, is about you asking him out. Not doing whatever the fuck you’ve been doing. Not stalling like you have been.”

“Not a day goes by without you questioning my methods.” Eddie shook his head and sighed, trying to smother the first sparks of annoyance in his gut. “These things take time. I simply have the patience to ensure my ultimate victory.” 

“Suuuure,” Gareth drawled. Eddie glared and crossed his arms, leaning back a little more aggressively in his chair. 

“This is boring. Do you have anything more interesting to talk about?” He asked, and was afraid that he hadn’t been successful in keeping all of the snippiness out of his tone.

Gareth shrugged, nonchalant. Whatever the fuck this was, he was laying it on real thick, Eddie thought peevishly. 

“Whatever you say, Ed. Just to let you know, from this lowly peon’s perspective, it doesn’t seem like you’re using this as an excuse to flex your irresistible sexual prowess. From here, it either looks like you’re scared because I’m right and he’s an asshole, or someone has a little crush .” Gareth sing-songed smugly.

Eddie felt his cheeks flush, and blood rushed, echoing and hot, past his ears. He became acutely aware of the other guys on their side of the room and how quiet they had gotten. 

Unfortunately, he hadn’t noticed the doors to the drama room being pulled open to reveal an even fuller audience.

Under Gareth’s surprisingly sharp and knowing gaze, he felt like a bug - probably a beetle - being spread out, papery wings pulled out from under a hard protective shell, and pinned to a styrofoam board. Exposed, and angry about it. 

“Jesus Christ,” He muttered. “Do you stand in front of a mirror and practice being a jackass, or does all this come natural? You think I like spending any time or energy on that meathead? Oh, believe me, I can’t wait till I win this stupid bet so I can stop wasting my time. How about this, huh? Next time I see him I’ll finish this, ask him out, and be done. If you really want to lose that bad.”

Gareth’s answering cackle almost drowned out the cacophony of small gasps from behind him in the doorway. “Dude, I was joking about you liking Harrington, obviously . Glad we’re on the same page, at least.”

They hadn’t heard the gasps. They did hear Dustin Henderson’s slightly slurred exclamation, “What the fuck?” 

Gareth met Eddie’s eyes as twin icepicks of dread were driven into their chests. Gareth slowly turned around, cringing. 

Eddie’s tunnel vision bottomed out on Steve Harrington’s face, where it rose just a bit above the rest of the kids who were standing in the doorway.

He looked… devastated.

He looked genuinely hurt? His eyebrows drew together in a peak, his mouth had dropped open slightly, his eyes were downturned and sad. There were two small spots of color high on his cheeks in a painful shade of red. He met Eddie’s eyes directly for just an instant before quickly looking down. 

Lucas, Mike, Dustin, and Will all stood between the two, with various shades of discomfort, shock, and anger on their faces.

Eddie felt like a character in a Looney Tunes cartoon who had run out past the ledge of the cliff, and was standing there and looking confused at the camera, nothing holding him but air and his own stupidity. 

Dustin turned around to look at Steve, who blinked hard twice and shook his head hard, looking back at Dustin with panic on his face. Then, he cleared his throat, and pulled up a half-assed smile. He laughed awkwardly.

“Hey, someone’s got jokes! Sorry I ruined it,” He tried, going for light-hearted but sounding a little strangled, a little too loud. He patted Dustin on the shoulder. 

Will looked up at Steve, too, with some clearly heartbroken expression that kicked Eddie right in the balls, too.

“Harrington, listen…” Eddie began reluctantly, not even sure what he was going to say.

“No, no,” Steve waved a dismissive hand his way. “All good.”

“ Steve ,” Lucas said reproachfully.

“For real. I can be a good sport, guys, come on. No biggie. You all have fun at your little dragon table game, I’ll be back to pick you up.” He ushered all the boys further into the room, and then looked at his hands, a little stricken. “Just, uh, just came in to toss this,” He stuttered, leaning around the door to throw away something he’d been holding. He shoved his arm out, pulled it back in indecisively, and then quickly tossed it. It looked like a small box wrapped up in newspaper. Weird that he was throwing it away, it didn’t even look open… 

Then he turned and speed-walked away, shoulders hunched up by his ears.

Gareth and Eddie looked at each other with matching grimaces. 

The four boys who had just walked in were looking at each other as well, having a fierce debate almost completely with their eyebrows. 

“We’re not actually going to stay, are we?” Dustin asked, venom in his voice like Eddie had never heard. It made him flinch. Mike hissed something back, but it was harder to hear. Something about “Out,” and “They’ll know”, maybe. Whatever he said was convincing enough, and they all begrudgingly continued in, throwing their backpacks and binders down and sitting down hard into their chairs.

Lucas shot Eddie the dirtiest look he’d ever seen from that kid and said, “Not cool, man.” There was so much emotion in his voice that it cracked.

Eddie felt like that pinned beetle, alright. A dung beetle.

Eddie didn’t think anyone really wanted to proceed with the opening session of this campaign, but no one really knew what to do otherwise. So, they all sat and started playing. Participation was awkward, stilted, and reluctant at best. The boys barely talked. Will the Wise didn’t say a goddamn word. Eddie felt so nauseous the whole time that he didn’t push it.

By the end, everyone packed up quickly to leave. Lucas turned to look at all of them right before heading out and said, “I quit.”

“What?” Anthony and Jeff asked at the same time.

“Come on, Lucas, it was just a joke…” Gareth protested. “I mean, obviously the way it happened was shitty, but…”

Dustin started protesting, but Mike elbowed him to shut him up. “Yeah, it was a shitty joke. We’re allowed to not be cool with it.”

“Sure, you’re allowed, but it doesn’t mean you have to quit the group. Eddie spent weeks on this campaign for your characters. You can’t just leave.”

Eddie slowly got up from his chair, ignoring the argument, and went over to the trashcan. He wanted to see what Steve had thrown away. It definitely hadn’t looked like garbage. Dustin caught on to his movement and rushed over, too. He stuck his arm into the trash can and pulled out the package, shooting Eddie a glare before running back over to his seat and putting the box in his backpack. Eddie watched him, dismayed.

“So? You all have been on my ass since day one for doing what I want to do.” Lucas was saying. “And now this? I’m starting to think you’re just a buncha dicks.” He stomped out of the room. Silently, Mike, Will, and Dustin fled too.

Gareth groaned. “What the fuck?” He said. Eddie waved a hand at him dismissively, staring at the trash. The feeling that he’d fucked up royally settled in his stomach like cement.

Eddie packed up his shit, helped Jeff and the other guys put the room back together, and then trailed out to his van. He hoped briefly that he would catch Steve and his children in the parking lot, but shouldn’t have been surprised to find the rest of the space deserted. The sun was setting at his back by the time he drove home. He didn’t turn on any music, either, determined to punish himself in morose silence. He got that what had happened was beyond shitty. It must have been embarrassing, too. It had been mortifying for Eddie, just a real butt munch of a situation overall.

There was something about Steve’s face, though, that made him think this was worse than Eddie knew, even. Every time he thought about the look he had caught on Steve’s face, his stomach dropped and he felt like he was falling again. Just dropping right back down, free-falling into Wile E. Coyote’s canyon.

Why had he looked like that, though?

Was it just because no one had ever been mean to Golden Boy Harrington? Though he could have made the argument, he didn’t know he bought it… 

He thought about Dustin’s reaction, too.

“What the fuck?” from Dustin.

“What the fuck?” from Marty Mcfly’s buddy.

If he never heard that fuckin’ phrase again, it’d be too soon.

When Eddie got back to the trailer, Wayne was sitting on the couch, eating and watching a game.

“Dinner’s in the fridge,” Wayne told him.

“Not hungry.” He shot back, not looking at the man. He stomped right through and locked himself in his room.

About two hours later, there was a knock on his door.

“What?” Eddie asked. 

“Gareth’s here.” Wayne told him gruffly. Eddie groaned and pulled himself up off of the floor where he had collapsed, and unlocked the door.

Wayne was leaning against the doorframe and shot him a shrewd look before walking away. Gareth shifted out of Wayne’s way and then came closer. He was holding a large rolled up piece of poster. He held it out.

“I figure you won the bet, technically.” Gareth said. Eddie could tell he was trying to joke about it, but couldn’t quite pull off more than glum. “More than won the bet. That was worse than anything we coulda come up with, huh?”

Eddie snorted, taking the poster out of Gareth’s hands and unrolling it. It was a large AC/DC poster, a collage of the members of the band performing, with Malcolm Young’s signature glinting in silver Sharpie at the bottom.

“I don’t know if I’ve ever felt like more of a dirtbag,” Eddie admitted. They sat down side by side on Eddie’s bed.

“Ah, come on,” Gareth argued weakly, bumping Eddie’s shoulder with his own. “We’ve done worse, right?”

They laughed. Eddie scrubbed a hand over his face. 

“Yeah, you’re right.” He chuckled. “We’re just a couple of dicks.”

Gareth nodded sagely. “Sure are. Just a couple of dicks.”

They sat in silence for a while. Eddie looked at the poster in his hands and felt slimy. Gareth hadn’t even given him shit for it when he’d handed it over. In fact, if Gareth hadn’t offered it up, he definitely wouldn’t have asked for it. If anything, Gareth bringing it over was probably proof he was feeling almost as bad as Eddie was.

“We’ll apologize. For real.” Gareth said suddenly.

"It was just a dumb prank, though, right?" Eddie asked. He'd meant it to sound accusing, maybe defensive. It came out plaintive, and a little pathetic.

"Hate to break this to you, bud, but I think we gotta grovel a little if we want to finish this campaign with more than four players."

Eddie laughed at that, but his laugh involuntarily turned into a groan and he moved the poster to the bed at his side so he could bury his head in his hands.

Chapter Text

I’m so fucking stupid.  

It had all been a lie, and he had been so stupid to believe it. Steve couldn’t pull himself out of that thought. It just rung around in his head over and over while he waited in the car for the kids to come out of their club. 

He knew rejection. He knew rejection very fucking well. He could take that… That wasn’t exactly what had happened, though. He felt like he’d been knocked out of orbit, just floating off somewhere. He was embarrassed, too, that he’d gotten so caught up in this thing that wasn’t even real, that had been a prank this whole time…

It had felt real. 

He hurt . 

There was a tightness in his chest, a sharp pain like someone was pulling wire around his rib cage and drawing it tight. He took a few gasping breaths as he felt tears rising so he could push them back down again. 

Don’t fucking start that, he berated himself. He couldn’t let the kids see that: talk about mortifying. 

He picked at the steering wheel and focused on not crying. He tried to tell himself it wasn’t even that big of a deal - they hadn’t meant for any of that to happen the way it did, for him to hear them…

He just didn’t understand. It had all been a lie? A joke? Every time Eddie had complimented him, made him turn red, every time he had felt warm and wanted, all of it had been a part Eddie had been playing? 

Why? 

Just to fuck with Steve? Just for shits and giggles? Just to laugh at him?

Now he thought about it, Eddie’s attention had only turned on him a few weeks ago, out of the blue. In the parking lot, at the grocery store, in front of his friends. He hadn’t felt the heat of Eddie’s attention on him the same way when they were alone - when there hadn’t been witnesses. Like the night he’d found Eddie after his nightmare. Sure, the guy had been going through nightmare shit, but he hadn’t even looked at Steve once. 

Didn’t need to, without an audience. 

He was so fucking stupid. He’d fallen for it, hook, line, and sinker.

He wanted to go home. 

God, the last thing he wanted to do was have to face all the rugrats again to take them all home. Dustin had promised not to tell anyone about his dumb picnic questions, but they had given him these snide little knowing looks when he’d followed them into the school with the present that made him think they had to have known. 

Oh, fuck , the last thing he wanted to do was look at Dustin, especially, and for Dustin to know how stupid he was for falling for some dumb prank, for thinking that Eddie actually liked him, that Eddie might actually want to go out with him, that Eddie might want him . He felt so goddamn pathetic and small all he wanted to do was go home and hide so far under his bed.

What was he going to tell Robin?

He looked down at his hands, at his bony, knobby fingers. His right pinky finger was twisted a little crooked because he’d broken it once. There were scars all over them - some circular over his knuckles, some knicks that had crusted over all over the backs of them, two on the flesh of his left palm. There were thick calluses still, though some were dry and peeling because he hadn’t needed to swing a bat in a while. 

His hands weren’t… nice to look at. He thought a little about finding a good moisturizer, maybe that would help… At least he could try. 

He wondered how he could have thought that Eddie had really seen anything in him to begin with. He just hadn’t been thinking, he guessed.

The kids came out sooner than Steve had expected, and they all piled into the car silently. As he watched them walk up and glanced back at the doors to the school, Steve felt a sharp spike of anxiety that Eddie would walk out after them, which he… just could not handle right then. As soon as the car doors closed, he swung out of the parking lot. Everyone sat, quiet and morose.

Steve cleared his throat. “Uh… How was… how was the meeting?” He asked, sounding more strangled than he had expected. He winced.

Dustin and Will shrugged, and gave varied, mumbled answers. Mike crossed his arms, hunching down in his seat and staring out of the window in consternation. Steve tried to subtly take a big, steadying breath.

“The meeting was whatever.” Lucas dismissed. “I have tryouts for the basketball team tomorrow, though.” Steve knew Lucas was throwing him a bone, but he perked up at the chance to think about something else, anyway.

“Yeah? How you feeling about it?”

“Good!” Lucas pushed on, “Getting stronger with lay-ups since you walked me through those.”

“You just needed a little practice.” Steve waved it off. “You’ve got this in the bag, dude.”

Lucas gave him a soft smile. “Thanks, Steve.”

Steve felt Dustin’s eyes on the side of his face, concerned and searching. He tried to just ignore it. He felt an immediate pull to comfort the kid, but what could he say?

They pulled up to Dustin’s house first. Steve told himself this wasn’t by design, just the closest house to school, but he wasn’t sure how true that was. Dustin got out, turned around and leaned back into the car to get his backpack and look back at the rest of the guys. 

“Channel 4, 30 minutes.” He said, and turned right around and stalked to his house. Steve felt his cheeks burn and grimaced, embarrassed all over again. He knew what that meant. It meant they were all going to get on their walkie-talkies and talk about what happened.

Still awkward and flushed with shame, he sat for a minute before glancing into the rearview mirror. “Hey Will, want to hop in the front seat and turn on some tunes?” He tried. Will nodded eagerly and climbed from the middle seat where he was over the middle console and settled into the front seat. Steve pulled away from Dustin’s driveway and on to the next stop as Will fiddled with the radio.

Mike was the next drop-off, and then Lucas. Will sat quietly in the passenger seat, looking at his hands in his lap. Steve felt more than saw Will cast him a few sideways glances the closer they got to his house.

As they turned onto his street, Will finally turned a little toward Steve and nervously blurted out, “Can I tell you something?”

Steve looked over at him briefly before returning his eyes to the road. “‘Course,” He answered. “Shoot.”

Will took a deep breath. “I’m… gay.” Steve heard the implied ‘too’. He tried to smile.

“Me, too.” Steve confirmed. “I mean, halfway. Thanks for telling me.”

Will nodded. “Thanks for telling me, too. It helps… Knowing I’m not alone. I know I’m just a dumb kid you drive around sometimes, but I hope it helps you too, a little bit.” Steve blinked hard a few times as a few mutinous tears blurred his vision.

“Yeah.” He agreed softly. He pulled into the Byers’ driveway and put the car in park. “Have you… I mean, did you know about me, before?” 

“If you’re asking if Dustin snitched, he kind of did,” Will answered mirthfully. “But it was really by accident. He made us promise not to tell. And we… Don’t be mad?”

Steve chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Not gonna be mad at you, kid. No promises about anyone else, though.” Will laughed.

“I’m ok with that.” He joked. “No, but, we knew… Um, about you and Billy. Sort of. Max mentioned it after. So we’ve known for a while. Sort of.”

Steve looked down at a muddy scuff mark on the floor of his car. “Oh.” He said and cleared his throat. “That’s ok. I wouldn’t be mad about that.”

Still a little hesitant, moving slowly enough that Steve could back out if he wanted, Will leaned over and pulled Steve into a hug. 

“I’m sorry,” Will whispered. Steve tried to shrug, but the kid was holding him too tightly to manage it.

“You don’t have to be sorry,” Steve answered. “Nothing to be sorry about, really.”

Will huffed into Steve’s shoulder. “We think there is.” He said firmly, pulling back. He started grabbing his backpack from the back seat. “I think we’re all quitting Hellfire.”

“What?” Steve asked, shocked. “You all don’t need to do all that -” 

“That’s what Dustin wants to talk about over the walkies later. Lucas already quit, at the end of the meeting.”

“But you all love those meetings. It really isn’t that big of a deal: I’m fine .” Steve tried to protest.

Will shrugged one shoulder. “We’ve played DnD with just us since forever. We don’t need those jerks to play a good campaign. At this point, it’s either quit Hellfire or put Nair in some shampoo bottles.”

Steve snorted a surprised laugh, and Will shot him a shy, sideways grin.

“Point is, you don’t have to just take this one for us. We’re walking away because we want to.”

“Jesus, kid,” Steve muttered wetly, scrubbing at his eye with the palm of his hand.

Up ahead, Joyce stepped out onto the porch to wave hello to Steve, and Will pushed the car door open. 

“Let us know if you want us to sic Eleven on them,” He said jokingly, and Steve chuckled again. “Thanks for the drive, Steve.” He jogged up to the porch and waved once before heading inside. Steve waved weakly back at him and Joyce and then twisted around to back out and drive home. It was a little pitiful that he did feel better, by a margin.

He pulled up to the house and navigated grabbing a pre-made smoothie from the fridge and going upstairs around his dad, who was heating up a microwave dinner. He was really forcing himself to drink the smoothie, stomach turning at the thought of eating anything else. Up in his room, he started grabbing supplies he knew he would need in the morning, two notepads dedicated to the classes he was taking, a textbook, and the syllabus for each and shoved them in his backpack.

He thought a lot about how Will had mentioned they knew about him and Billy. 

Thoughts of Billy came less and less, these days. 

Steve was glad that he wasn’t back there anymore, in that fucked headspace he had been in. In a sad way, he was glad Billy wasn’t there, either. There was a blackness, an insidious past that Steve could sense haunting Billy even if he had never gotten the full picture, and at least he was free of that now.

Whatever they had, had been short, and equal parts desperately vulnerable and callous. 

The last time they had met, Billy had been so drunk he’d stumbled over to Steve’s car and slurred his words the whole night. He had shoved the plastic bottle of cheap whiskey into Steve’s hands and made him take three swallows before he was satisfied that Steve was drunk enough, too, before crowding Steve into the backseat of the Beemer. 

He’d pushed Steve down onto his back, reached under his thighs and pulled him down further, tugged his pants open, and then leaned forward with a hand heavy on his chest as he’d jerked them off. 

It had felt like Billy’s hand, wide, hot, and painfully strong, was going to crack his ribs. 

Billy had usually been rough with him. Steve wasn’t sure he knew how to be anything else. His actions and movements were always jerky, efficient, with an undercurrent of helpless rage. Steve had felt that anger in every rough grab of his fingers at his hips and thighs and neck, the way he’d wrenched clothes aside to get at what he wanted, the way he manhandled Steve into the positions he wanted. 

He had had a neurotic, harried, focused need for control at all times. It had worked for him, because Steve had been so fucking scared all the time and so achingly alone that it had grounded him, taken his mind off of everything the way nothing else could. Scratched the itch. He didn’t feel like he was paralyzed, floating off into nothing, cold and isolated, when Billy was growling and hissing orders in his ear and dragging searing touches over his skin.

Steve thought they had seen something in each other. 

Maybe Billy had just been using him, and Steve had let him. 

Because the next thing Steve knew, he was trying to turn Billy off of kids hiding in a house behind him, and then Billy was wailing on his face, beating him so hard he lost consciousness. That rage Steve had sensed roiling under his skin had finally won out, he guessed.  

For a while after, between the nightmares and Billy and grief and the Russians, he would flinch when someone tried to touch him too quickly. As much as he had wanted physical affection, he felt as if he was going through withdrawals, and couldn’t handle too much.

Maybe he just wasn’t meant for that kind of love.

He wanted it, of course, and he thought he could be good to someone if given the chance. He’d try so hard, always, to love someone. But it seemed like people… saw something in him. People saw something warped in him that showed them he wouldn’t work that way.

A little, hopeful part of him thought about how the boys were talking about giving up Hellfire for him, and he tried to cup his hands around that warm spark of kindness and protect it from the blistering winds of his hurt. So what if he wasn’t meant for one sort of love when he’d found a different kind? It made him think, briefly, that even if he wasn’t ok in this moment, he could be again someday. Would be, he thought stubbornly.

Unbidden, the thought of Eddie’s laugh rose up in his head. 

“You think I like spending any time or energy on that meathead? Oh, believe me, I can’t wait till I win this stupid bet so I can stop wasting my time.”

Again, he came upon the dreaded thought, what was he going to tell Robin? She was going to expect a full rundown in the morning. She was going to get in his car and expect to gush about how asking Eddie out had gone. He didn’t want to think about picking Robin up the next morning. Hopefully, focusing on classes and studying and figuring out what he wanted to do with his life would help distract him. 

He thought briefly about going for a run, but was afraid that if he started running then, he would never want to stop.

It was only about 8 or 8:30 when he got into bed. He got in and curled up under the covers. 

His stomach growled and clenched a little because the smoothie could only hold him over for so long, but he sat in that familiar, hungry feeling and took a little comfort from it. Maybe he’d never be full. Maybe he would just want, and want, and want forever. At least, when he felt hungry, he felt something that wasn’t all of this. 

Chapter Text

Eddie slept a little that night. Gareth had left a while after he gave up his poster, and he had been functionally alone because he couldn’t handle looking at his uncle. He stared at the poster until he hated it. He’d have to give it back.

Miserable. He felt miserable. He couldn’t get Harrington’s devastated face out of his head, and he had nothing to do that could distract him the way he needed.

He lay around the whole day, moving to lay out on the couch and flip on the tv when Wayne left for work, trying to turn his brain off.

Around 4, Jeff and Gareth came knocking on his door, looking upset. 

“They all quit,” Jeff announced, dismayed.

Honestly, Eddie wasn’t even surprised. “Of course they did,” He said, defeated, and moved out of the doorway so that they could come inside.

“What do you mean, of course they did ?” Jeff desperately complained. “That’s more than half our party!”

“We committed a cardinal sin,” Eddie answered meanly, “We offended the babysitter.”

“That wasn’t what - I mean, we didn’t mean for it to happen like that, if we just explained -” Jeff tried protesting.

“It could be worth a shot,” Gareth said. “We could go around and try explaining, and apologize.”

“Yeah! They’d understand, it really wasn’t that big a deal. Just say sorry.” Jeff encouraged, excited he had some hope to grab onto.

Eddie wasn’t so sure. There was some niggling doubt in the back of his mind that he’d fucked up worse than a simple apology could sort out. But, he knew those looks on his friends’ faces, and there wasn’t going to be much he could say to convince them otherwise.

This was how he ended up knocking on Dustin’s door, Gareth nervously angled a little bit behind him. 

Soon after the two had shown up at Eddie’s trailer, Jeff’s mom had called to screech through the phone that Jeff needed to come home and do his homework and have their family dinner, so he hadn’t been able to join. He had just grabbed Eddie’s shoulders roughly so he could stare right into Eddie’s face and made him promise he would make the apology good enough that the boys who had quit would come back. Eddie had promised to do what he could.

Mrs. Henderson answered the door when they knocked, and welcomed them in such a welcoming, Mrs.-Henderson-kind-of-way, that Eddie was sure she hadn’t caught on to what had happened. He wasn’t sure if that made him hopeful or more anxious.

“Is this about your little dragon game?” She asked warmly but didn’t wait for a response, bustling around the corner to point down the hallway. “He’s in his room, last door down on the right. Go right ahead, boys.”

They thanked her and went on. The door was open, and Dustin was sitting at a little desk, working on an assignment. He met their eyes out of the corner of his briefly, and then pointedly ignored them and continued with his homework. They shuffled a little further into his room, shoving aside some mess with their feet so they didn’t step directly on the clothes and papers and books strewn all over the place.

“Hey, Dustin,” Gareth said, forcing himself to sound cheery. “We, uh, we wanted to come by and talk about what happened yesterday.” With no reaction from Dustin at all, Gareth trailed off, losing steam.

“We’re really sorry, man,” Eddie continued. “There’s a lot we can say to try and explain that we didn’t mean for that to happen or anything, but it happened and it was shitty and we didn’t mean it.” Normally, Eddie would have tried to put his natural flare on it. He would try to be a little more theatrical, jazz it up a little to make it less awkward, to relieve some pressure, but he had nothing. He couldn’t think of any way to make this less bad.

Dustin continued ignoring them.

“Jeff told us what you told him earlier. We wanted to… Well, I mean, we were wondering if… there was anything we could do, or any way we could fix it so you guys came back to Hellfire?” Gareth stumbled.

That definitely got a reaction. Dustin whipped his head around, eyes fiery. “Steve is the one who deserves an apology, and he definitely deserves a real apology that isn’t just a trick to get your game back together.” He spat. Eddie winced. Yeah, maybe that was what had been bothering him about this whole plan. “Will’s back. We have our real party back together. We don’t need a party where we have to worry about some members going rogue and planning conspiracies and gross pranks against someone who’s literally risked his life for us over and over.”

Eddie wanted to shrivel up. He wanted to turn into a weed so someone could spray him with a weed killer and he could shrivel up and die.

“Totally!” Gareth tried to backtrack and patch up his, in hindsight, rookie mistake. “We totally agree, we’ll apologize to Steve too. You gotta know we didn’t mean it like that, though, right? Like, it was just supposed to be a joke about Eddie asking Steve out - it was more a prank on Eddie than on Steve!”

Dustin turned bright red and stood up so quickly that his chair fell backward with a skittering crash. Eddie had never seen him so angry.

“Are you stupid? We don’t think it’s funny to make fun of people for being gay.”

…

What? Dustin was offended at Eddie for… making fun of himself? 

“What do you mean?” Eddie asked. “I mean, yeah, you’re right, but since it’s me, since I’m the gay one, it’s… different?” He finished lamely.

Dustin still looked angry, but there was a film of confusion that clouded his expression before giving way. He scoffed. “Now do you think I’m stupid?”

He was trying to think so hard and fast that he felt dizzy. He glanced over at Gareth, who looked just as confused as Eddie was. Dustin didn’t think he was gay? 

Did that mean…

Wait, there was no way. 

Eddie pushed forward. “No, for real, that was the joke. That I was gay, and flirting with the straightest guy on the planet.”

All three of them came to the same realization all at once.

Dustin looked sick. When Eddie looked at Gareth, he had the same queasy expression on his face. Eddie felt it, too.

“Steve’s gay?” Eddie asked flatly, throwing all of his effort into keeping his voice steady.

“Half.” Dustin confirmed dazedly.

“ Half gay?” Gareth asked, incredulous and laughing a little at how baffled he was.

“Yeah,” Dustin answered, immediately back on the defensive. “Bisexual. If you didn’t know before this, you can’t tell anyone.” And that threatening anger was back in full force.

“Whoa,” Eddie said, taking a step forward and holding his hands out. “No one’s going to out anyone. We just… Since when?”

“You can’t ask someone when they started being gay.” Dustin sneered condescendingly. “That’s dumb and offensive.”

“That’s not what I… Ok, you know what, whatever. When did you find out, I mean? When did he tell you?”

“I’m not really supposed to know this… I don’t think anyone is. But Max caught him and Billy sneaking out one night…”

“Billy Hargrove?” Gareth asked, voice high and strangled. “The jackass who beat him half to death?”

“Yeah, that one. Safe to say Steve’s taste in guys is even shittier than his taste in girls.” Dustin answered, glaring daggers at Eddie.

Eddie’s mouth dropped open, and he resolutely ignored the implications. He didn’t want to touch that until he had heavy alcohol in his hands.

“I don’t believe this,” Gareth breathed, scrubbing his fingers over his eyes. 

“We’ll come back to Hellfire when we’re dead.” Dustin swore. Jesus Christ, this kid was as dramatic as he was, Eddie thought incredulously, keeping in the bubble of hysterical laughter he felt in his chest.

“Ok, whatever.” Gareth plowed on. “We didn’t know Steve was half gay. You can be mad at us for being mean and saying the shit he overheard, but you can’t say that this was some big conspiracy to make fun of him for something we didn’t know about. It was… It was just an unfortunate accident.”

Dustin gave a stormy scowl and marched back over to his desk and pulled something out of the top drawer.

“If you all are dicks about what I’m about to show you, I know multiple people who can ruin your lives.” He threatened. “But I’m going to show you this to prove that you’re raging assholes and you fucked up even bigger than you know. I don’t give a shit if you meant for this to happen or not.” He shoved the thing he was carrying out at them.

It was the package that Steve had thrown away yesterday, right after he’d heard them talking about him.

Eddie took it carefully and unwrapped it slowly so that he didn’t tear or rip the paper. He didn’t want to hurt it. Inside the smoothed newspaper wrapping sat two tapes. The first one was the Ozzy album he remembered showing Steve when he’d showed up at the record store. The second tape was by Eric Clapton, an older album by about ten years, maybe a little more. 

Between the two tapes was a neatly folded piece of lined paper. Eddie’s hands shook as he unfolded the paper. Steve had written him a note, in small, chicken scratch handwriting that was messy but in a way that made Eddie think he had tried to write it carefully.

Eddie, it read,

I hope the Ozzy tape is good. I know you said you wanted to give it a listen before you bought the whole album... I think you’ll like the Clapton tape, too. It’s one that my mom and I listen to a lot. God, that sounds cheesy, doesn’t it? I swear it’s not, though. She’s just really into music and introduced me to a lot. Clapton’s really good on guitar, made me think of you. 

I was thinking maybe we could get together sometime and listen to them together? Grab some food? I’ve got a couple ideas… 

Either way, hope you like the tapes.

Steve ☺

Eddie was frantic with guilt by the time he was done reading. He felt nauseous.

“Do you get it now?” Dustin asked with vitriol. “This weekend, Steve asked me all these questions about food he could make you and things you liked, because you’ve been working for weeks now to make him think you like him, and then he finds out it was all a joke? How is a half-assed apology supposed to make that better, Eddie?”

Eddie shook his head. What was he supposed to say? What could he ever possibly come up with to make this better?

“I didn’t know… ” He found himself whispering. Dustin glowered at him, and forcefully took back the contents of Steve's present. Eddie hesitated to give it back, looking at the heartbreaking, dopey little smiley face that Steve had drawn next to his name.

“Go kick rocks.” Dustin said. “Get out, man. I told you what I thought and what I wanted. We’re not coming back to Hellfire. And regardless, you need to apologize to Steve because he deserves an apology.”

“You’re right,” Eddie answered, nodding. “You’re right. I need to tell Steve I’m sorry. Come on, Gare.”

They left.

When they climbed back into Eddie’s van, they sat together in silence for a minute.

Eddie fell forward till his forehead hit the steering wheel. “I need a drink.” He said.

“Yep.” Gareth agreed.

They ran by the liquor store and Eddie went in and bought a bottle of liquor and a liter of Coke. They went back to Eddie’s trailer and got right to work on getting drunk as quickly as possible.

The whole time, Eddie’s brain was working in circles. Steve liked him . Steve liked him. Steve had been planning a date with him. Steve had been coming to ask him on a date when he heard Eddie say all those horrible things about him. Steve had found out that Eddie had just been playing a prank on him. Steve thought Eddie had been making fun of him for being gay. Steve Harrington liked Eddie Munson . Steve liked him. Steve liked him . 

Eddie’s head spun. “What am I even supposed to say?” He asked.

“Hell if I know,” Gareth answered, flinging his arms wide. “Maybe shots’ll help.”

“They probably won’t,” Eddie laughed. “But bring ‘em on.” 

They hadn’t been paying attention to the time. They were hiccup-and-giggling drunk when Wayne walked in from work and looked them over.

“Hello, boys,” He greeted sardonically, going to put his old beat-up plastic lunchbox away.

Eddie offered a sarcastic salute from his spot on the floor.

“Heya Wayne,” Gareth greeted.

“Hey Wayne,” Eddie said, rolling his head sideways along the seat of the couch to look over at his Uncle in the kitchen. “What would you do if you fucked up so bad you made someone like you and think you liked them as a prank?” Even as he said it, and said it like a joke, his chest burned with shame. He took another swig.

“Accidentally!” Gareth interrupted in a panic. “ Totally accidentally!” 

Wayne looked them over sharply, eyeing the half-empty bottle sitting on the coffee table.

“Sounds like something I would want to own up to.” He said carefully. “And apologize for.” 

Eddie threw his arms wide. Didn’t Wayne see that was the whole problem? How the fuck was he supposed to make up for doing that to someone? 

“With a nice bouquet of flowers, maybe? A “Sorry for your loss” card from Melvalds?” He asked. Gareth giggled next to him.

The look Wayne shot him was harsher, annoyed, now. “Whatever I thought I should do, I definitely wouldn’t want to do it drunk of my ass.” He shot back. Eddie scrunched up his nose.

“Come on, old man, it was just a joke.” He said. 

“If I remember right, joking is what got you into this mess to begin with.” Wayne pointed out. Eddie blew a razz at him, and Wayne rolled his eyes. “Yeah, alright,” Wayne answered, sounding tired. “I think it’s about time for you to sober up.” 

He came over to Eddie and smoothly slung his hands under Eddie’s arms and lifted him straight up. Eddie swayed harshly into Wayne’s chest and swallowed down a gag at the nausea that sudden movement caused. He tried protesting, but the room was spinning and Wayne was manhandling him toward the bathroom.

“Strip,” Wayne ordered, already pulling Eddie’s shirt up over his head. It was all happening so quickly, all Eddie could do to stay upright was go along with it. When he was down to his ratty old boxers, Wayne shoved him into the shower and sprayed him with cold water.

“What the fuck , Wayne?” Eddie shouted, screwing his eyes shut and flinching back hard from the spray. Wayne kept him under with one hand.

“I turn my head to you doing a whole lot of shit, Eds, but like hell am I gonna sit here and watch you drink yourself into a self-pitying stupor. You wanna be like your daddy that much? Fine. But you know well and good you’re gonna move out from under my roof first.”

Eddie shot Wayne a venomous look from under the rivulets of water running down his face. He hunched up his shoulders and stood there, shivering. 

“I just don’t know what to do, Wayne.” He mumbled. “I dug myself so far in this, I wouldn’t want anything to do with me. I don’t think I can make it up to him.”

“Only way to know for sure is a good honest try. A good, honest, sober try.”

“Any way to make this water a little colder?”

Chapter Text

Robin was carefully trying to line her left eye with liner when she heard the car horn from out front. She growled at her reflection but moved faster, swiping eyeliner over her lids and then purposefully smudged. The lines were going to end up smudged, anyway, and the last time she’d tried applying it in Steve’s car, she looked like she was halfway through a zombie transition for a week and a half.

Another honk.

She tossed her eyeliner into the sink, dashed into her room and grabbed the shoes from beside her bed, and bag from the doorknob. She ran out barefoot and hopped into the passenger seat of Steve’s car.

He was wearing sunglasses, leaned back and tapping his fingers impatiently on the steering wheel. The radio was playing but was mostly static.

“Morning!” She sang in greeting. He grimaced.

“Being a morning person should be a felony,” Steve deadpanned. “But have I ever told you that you do it in an especially heinous way?”

Robin sighed breezily. “What can I say? It’s a gift.” She leaned down and put on her shoes as Steve swung the car out of her driveway and got on the road.

She fixed the radio, and then sat back in her seat expectantly. She could hardly contain her excitement as she tried to let Steve dish on his own.

10 minutes later, and nothing. They were halfway to campus by then. She squirmed in her seat. Steve wasn’t giving her anything. She was dying. She couldn’t get a read on him. He was a stubborn son of a bitch. He seemed grumpier than normal, but sometimes he was like that because happiness burned and made him hiss like sunlight did a vampire.

She couldn’t take it anymore. “ So ?” She asked.

He looked at her sideways: she could see behind his sunglasses. “So?” He asked back. 

She glared at him, mouth hanging open a little. Did this dirtbag expect her to grovel for details?

“Oh, I was just wondering how that new brand of toothpaste was working out for you.” She griped and then smacked Steve’s shoulder. “You know what I want, Harrington, I want details!”

Honestly, Russians and newfound terror of supernatural creatures from alternate dimensions aside, Robin was kind of the happiest she’d ever been. She had never been… great at making friends. Had always felt strange, and isolated, like the rest of the world was inside this rose-tinted, sparkly bubble, and she was always on the outside. A little too loud. A little too dirty. A little too clumsy. A little too slow. And then she’d found Steve, and they fit so well. Along with Steve came a whole weird family that she had learned to love so fast. As much as she loved all of them, at the end of the day she knew it would be her and Steve.

Now they were starting college together, and talking about crushes and relationships - the way friendship was in the movies. The whole world that Robin had never felt like she could break into was theirs . 

She smacked Steve’s arm again.

“You’re killing me, Harrington, how did it go? Did you ask Eddie out?” She prodded. 

Steve gave a short, awkward chuckle that made her look closer at him. He looked relaxed, but he could win a Tony for some of the performances he put on so he never let on that something bothered him.

“Steve, for real,” she said more softly, but just as firmly. “What happened?”

Steve sucked in a big breath, held it, and then blew it out. 

“Ok,” he said finally. “First, I really don’t want you to make a big deal out of this. For so many reasons, but mostly because I want to have a good day. Right?”

“Right…” Robin agreed, but hesitantly. None of this bode well. 

“It was, uh, all a joke?” He cleared his throat. 

“…what?” Robin asked blankly. She’d never been great at the whole getting the joke thing. 

“Ehhh, turns out it was, like, a dare between Eddie and his buddies, just to see if Eddie could work up to asking me out.” Awkwardly, he tried to laugh again. 

Robin felt herself tearing up before she had fully, consciously, registered the words. 

“He… what?” She asked, already choked up. 

“Robin,” Steve said reproachfully and shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “This is what I was talking about. I just want to get through this week. I just want to… you know, work on classes, meet new people, and I don’t want to spend it all thinking about the next tally on my ‘You Suck’ board.” He said.

She wanted to protest because her chest still felt tight with shock. But there was an edge to Steve’s words that made her pause.

“Ok.” She said quietly. “Ok, I get that. We don’t have to talk about it right now. God, Steve, I can’t even imagine… Is there… I mean, is there anything I can make today easier? Better?”

“You being your regular obnoxious self is doing more than enough,” Steve answered, gratingly lighthearted.

“Aw, you old sap,” Robin said. He snorted. They fell silent. Robin tried not to think about how her friend must be hurting. She tried not to think about how she felt guilty for pushing him toward Eddie, toward opening himself up to get hurt. She tried not to think about his comment about the ‘You Suck’ board, too. That… hadn’t been her finest move.

Instead, she pictured getting a picture of Munson printed out so she could tape it to a dart board and throw things at his dumb face until the pressure lessened, and she felt less like doing that to his actual face.

“... So you met my mom,” Steve offered weakly, breaking the uneasy silence that had fallen.

“Oh yeah! Dinner went 100 times easier than I thought it would.”

“I’d say,” He answered. “She wants your parents as in-laws.”

Robin giggled. “I’m unsurprised that she fell for my charm.” She said, leaning back against the car door. “Don’t joke about it too much. At this rate, chances are we'll end up having to marry each other anyway.”

Steve glanced at her, jaw dropped. 

“What?” She asked jokingly. “Too soon?”

Steve let out an incredulous laugh. “ YES , too soon!” He shouted.

“Sorry,” She said and didn’t try to sound sorry at all. 

Carefully, she watched a tension she hadn’t noticed at first bleed out of his shoulders even as he scoffed dramatically and flipped her off.

She allowed herself a smug smirk hoping she had helped him settle a little, and had successfully hidden the gaping pit of protective rage and sadness that had opened inside of her.

Hell hath no fury like a Robin when her Steve is scorned. Trademarked, belonging to Robin Buckley. 

She pulled out her best Lucille Ball housewife impression and drew one singular big belly laugh out of Steve by the time they were pulling into the parking lot. She looped her arm into Steve’s as they walked to class. She looked closely at his face, tried to dissect his smile. He was going to have a hell of a time getting around today since he had unknowingly entered them into an all-day three-legged race. 

Thankfully, it was very easy to glue herself to his side that day, since all of their classes were together. She could work her magic as Emotional Support Robin to her unwilling victim much more easily when they were sitting in the same lectures.

They were pulling out of the lot at the end of their day when Robin said, “Ok, so I’m obviously coming over.” She announced.

“You are?” Steve asked in that way of his, where he sounded annoyed and put out but was fighting down a perky grin.

“Obviously.” Robin dismissed. “My question is, should we hit that diner right off the exit, or order pizza? My vote is for pizza.”

An hour and some change later and they were sitting on the floor in front of the coffee table in Steve’s living room, a pizza box propped open and homework scattered all over. Steve grabbed a smoothie that looked stomach-turningly green for himself, and a glass of milk for her.

“Still think this is so gross,” He mumbled when he handed it to her.

“Oh, nooo, I can’t believe I have to add something else to the list of things I don’t care about,” She moaned.

“You’re such a dick,” Steve giggled, taking a gulp of his… She honestly wasn’t sure what it was, but it looked like algae. All she could think about was that he was drinking blended-up algae. She pretended to gag, and he returned the favor when she took a drink of hers. 

Robin was two and a half slices deep before she gave Steve a side-eye. “Are you gonna eat any?” She asked him.

He shrugged. “Not really hungry.” He answered dismissively.

The look she was going for was firm but caring. Unfortunately, it probably came off a little more frazzled and scared, but it still resulted in his taking one of the crusts she had left on her plate and chewing on it, so that worked for her.

“I’m gonna need you to be nicer to my friend.” She said, feeling brave and confrontational. “If you don’t take care of yourself, I’m going to… I’m going to…” What a terrible time to run out of suitable threats.

“Yeah. You really showed me,” Steve said, making his voice quiver and faking a shudder.

“Shut up. I’m gonna… Ooh, I’m gonna tell the Chief you said you wished he was your dad!”

Steve went scarlet, choking on the little piece of crust he’d just nibbled off. “Christ, Buckley, how evil are you?”

“Diabolical.” She answered proudly. 

“I told you that both in confidence and drunk off my ass, that should be off limits.”

Robin shrugged. “If you want to keep it that way, you better start eating like Santa Claus bulking up for mall pictures.”

He rolled his eyes. “I’m eating, I’m eating! Right here in front of you!” He insisted desperately, motioning to the food.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Not just now, I mean even when I’m not around. All the time. Every day. Morning, noon, and night, Harrington.”

He made a grossed-out face. 

“And I want you to eat at least one slice of Texas Toast every day.” She said. That was easy, it was one of his favorites. “And a chocolate milkshake!”

“Don’t push it, Buckley,” Steve threatened. “Or I’ll tell Nancy that you had a sex dream about her mom.”

Robin shrieked and lunged forward to cover his mouth with her hands. She may have misjudged how vehement her movement was, and she ended up pushing him all the way over, flat on his back with her on top of him.

“You would never!” She squeaked. He laughed breathlessly under her.

“You’re not the only one with blackmail material,” He answered. Then he sharply shoved her off him, as he felt her fingers wiggling toward his armpits. “You’re the worst ,” He said. “Worse than Dustin, by a mile .”

She pretended to be offended, but got off of him anyway, sitting back up and finishing her last slice of pizza so he could take the crust. 

They worked slowly through their homework. There wasn’t much, this early in the year, but she helped him get ahead a little by reading a few large portions of textbooks so he could take notes. His brow was furrowed as he focused on his work.

When they finished, Robin got up and turned on some movie that the kids had left the last time they were here, but turned it down low, and they moved up onto the couch behind them.

Finally, taking a deep breath, she turned to face him.

“Now. You gotta dish. What happened yesterday? You said… You said it had all been a joke?” She asked.

Steve sighed and rubbed his face. “Yeah, yeah, he… well, look.” He told the whole story, of how he’d planned to ask Eddie out when he saw him while dropping off the kids for DnD, how they came up and caught Eddie and Gareth talking shit about him, saying that Eddie would win the bet and just ask Steve out to get it over with… 

“What the fuck?” Robin cut him off by the end. “How despicable do you have to be to do something like that? I watched him flirt with you, too, I don’t understand. It was so real .”

“That was the point,” Steve answered sullenly. “It was supposed to seem real. The goal was to ask me out.”

“But that’s the other thing!” Robin ranted. “Eddie told me he was gay. It was confirmed. How could he do something so mean ?”

“I mean, I don’t think the focus was on the gay part, Rob. I think it was probably about me being gay. Like, I know his friends have never liked me. I never knew them in high school or anything, but that doesn’t mean much. I had a, uh, reputation , right?”

Robin rolled her eyes. Not this shit again. “Everyone had a reputation. Jee -zus. It was high school, almost no one had jobs. People gossiped like that was their cash cow and they were saving up for penthouses. Don’t defend them, Steve, they were assholes . God, this makes me want to put fire ants in their bedsheets.”

Steve chuckled mirthlessly and rubbed the back of his neck. “It was pretty rough, not gonna lie.” He admitted. “A shoot-down for the books.”

She shifted toward him, and forcefully took both his hands in hers, stroking over them with her thumbs. “Jokes and murder plots aside, how are you doing? For real?” He looked down, trying to avoid her gaze. She shook one of his hands and ducked down to meet his eyes, and he reluctantly looked back at her. His eyes were misty. 

He let go of her hands, scooted away a little, and lay his head in her lap. A lot of times, it was easier for him to talk about hard things like this without having to worry about looking at her. 

“It sucked, the way it happened.” He said, sounding less sarcastic and more truthful. “That was the first time in a while that I wanted to… you know, to ask someone out for more than just a hook-up. And, it was really fucking embarrassing that it happened the way it did. You know, in front of everyone. Like, the kids and his friends. I guess I’m out to them all now.”

A bolt of acrid fear shot through her at that. Knowing that Eddie was gay too gave her a little hope that the other guys were ok with… Well, that sort of thing . That was still a lot of power for them to have over Steve. She wanted to cut off all their fingers.

Instead, she reached down and took a lock of Steve’s soft hair in between her fingers and petted it.

After a few moments, Steve continued. “I’m also… Really confused about what to feel, at this point.” He confessed. “Like, I thought I liked him. But that’s what he wanted. Like, he tricked me into feeling like that. Did I ever really like him? Would I have ever liked him, if things hadn’t happened the way they did? And, from my side, am I that fucking shallow? And gullible? Like, someone compliments me a couple of times and I’m totally head over heels?”

“Don’t talk about yourself like that.” She shot back immediately. “This might have all started out on Eddie’s lies, but you went about it the right way. You didn’t rush into things, you took your time and tried to notice things about him . And this one’s important for you.” She tapped him on the forehead. “It’s not a bad thing to want to feel good. To like feeling good. Not only that, but you were actively trying to prove that wasn’t your only motivation.”

“Yeah, I guess.” He conceded. 

They sat for a while, under the flashing lights of the tv. Robin stroked and lightly pulled at Steve’s hair, and he rubbed his face onto her leg, shifting and settling in. She watched his face carefully, wishing she knew exactly what he was thinking. He was a hard one to read, even while he had started opening up to her. She wished she knew exactly which insecurities were on fire for him right now so that she could personally string them up one by one. 

When she brushed her thumb over his cheekbone, he was sniffling a little, but his cheek wasn’t wet yet. Not too long after, they both fell asleep.

Friday afternoon, she made a call. Thankfully, she knew Steve wasn’t the only one with secret desires surrounding a certain pseudo-parental relationship. Early Saturday morning, the recently reinstated Chief of Police was waiting in her driveway. Wouldn’t you know it, he happened to have the day off.

Chapter Text

At some godawful hour on Saturday morning, Gareth’s mom knocked briefly on his door, and then walked into his room and started shaking his ankle. 

“Gareth! Gareth Eugene, you had better get up right now. A policeman is on my doorstep asking for you.” She was saying, in a voice that was somehow both shrill and a whisper.

Gareth bolted out of bed, legs tangling in his blanket so he hopped and stumbled before getting free. “ What ?”

“I don’t know, I just told him I would get you so that he didn’t wake your father. Get dressed and get down there right now, and so help me if I find out you’ve done something stupid I’ll lose my mind. Come on, come on!”

Frantic, he pulled a shirt off the floor and jeans from where they were laying on top of his dresser and scrambled to get them on. His mom disappeared down the hall, hopefully to make sure his dad didn’t wake from his security shift at the hospital the night before. Gareth darted, barefoot, down the stairs and wrenched the front door back open.

Decked out in full khaki’d, mustached, wide-brimmed-hatted glory, was Chief Hopper. Gareth gulped. Then, his eyes widened in further confusion when he saw Robin Buckley standing behind him. Her own uniform was a pair of baggy jean shorts, a striped blue and grey baja hoodie, and a pair of heavy black boots. Her hair was pulled tight back into a short, spiky ponytail, and she wore a scowl almost as deep as Hopper’s.

Gareth tripped over his feet a little as he stepped all the way out and closed the door behind him.

“Can I help you?” He asked incredulously. 

“Gareth! Can I call ya Gareth?” Hopper greeted with a menacing little smile. Gareth stuttered a nod. “Perfect. Ms. Buckley here tells me you and some of your friends have accidentally stumbled upon some information about a mutual friend of ours. Steve Harrington. You know him?”

Gareth nodded again. “Yeah, yeah, I - listen, I don’t know what Buckley told you, but we -”

“Gareth.” Hopper cut over him, sounding disappointed. He crossed big meaty arms over his chest and looked down his nose at him. Gareth closed his mouth with a click. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t interrupt. Just answer my questions, and this will go easier for all of us. Ms. Buckley did not go into specifics, because she understands that the privacy of others is something to be respected . If someone has not chosen to share certain details of their lives with the rest of us, do you know what that makes those details?”

Gareth hazarded a wary glance up at Hopper’s face and waited a minute to make sure that was a question he was expected to answer. “No… Uh, no sir?”

“It makes them none of our business , Gareth,” Hopper answered, voice absolutely dripping with sarcasm. Gareth nodded quickly anyway. “I came all the way down here to suggest to you that those details, whatever they may be, stay with you now. I hope that we don’t hear any rumors about Mr. Harrington passed around town over the next little while. Otherwise, I’m afraid I’ll have to come knocking on your door again. Are we clear?”

“Yes sir,” Gareth spat out.

“Atta boy.” The Chief said and stuck his hand out toward him. Reluctantly, Gareth took his hand, swiped the sweat off his palm, and shook the Chief’s. He wasn’t surprised at all at the crushing grip that met him. That was, like, the oldest, most stereotypical intimidation technique in the book. With that, the man stalked off toward his car. The crazy motherfucker was even whistling. 

Gareth rounded on Robin.

“What the fuck, Buckley? What did you say to get the Chief of Police involved? We didn’t do anything illegal.” He said but kept his voice down. He didn’t want Hopper to hear him.

Buckley bared her teeth at him, smiling all crazy like some hyena. He had to stop himself from taking a step back.

“I didn’t have to tell him too much.” She admitted. “You just fucked with the wrong guy. Steve’s like his kid. And , I did feel it necessary to get him involved. Because I don’t know what’s going on in your thick skull, but Dustin told me what you all talked about. What you know about Steve now is fucking dangerous . And I will hang you out to dry before you get a chance to use that against him.”

“I’m not gonna… I wouldn’t do that. Not even to Harrington. I’m not like that.” Gareth tried to protest. 

“I know fuck all about the “ kind of guy ” you are,” She answered, using air quotes bitingly. “You were enough of a jackass to be a part of orchestrating this whole clusterfuck, that tells me all I need to know. Just listen to what I’m telling you: this is serious . This is dangerous . And I need to know that you won’t try to hurt him again.” By the end, her voice wobbled a little.

It made him pause. “I won’t.” He answered carefully. “I promise, I won’t.”

Buckley’s eyes searched his face all over. He stared back at her, unsure of what exactly she was looking for. Finally, she nodded.

“I don’t want to have to trust you with this.” She told him honestly. The vicious anger was no longer in her voice. She just sounded vulnerable, like he had hurt her , not Harrington. “But I have to now. Hope I never see you around.” 

She gave him a half-assed salute and then walked over to the cop car where the Chief was waiting in the driver’s seat. She swung into the passenger seat, and they took off. Gareth stood on his front step for a few minutes after they left, feeling a little shell-shocked.

Alright… Maybe it was time to reevaluate.

Gareth stumbled blearily up to his bedroom. His mom stopped him on the way up.

“What was that?” She asked incredulously.

“Oh, uh, I saw some kids scrapping it out at school the other day. I’d forgotten about it, but I guess one of the parents is suing or something.” He lied. Not the first time he’d told that one, but apparently it was believable enough to pull off repeat performances. 

His mother sighed in relief and carried on with her day. Gareth slipped back into his room, closed the door quietly, and undressed again to lay back down. 

He rubbed his hand where Chief Hopper had gripped it a few moments ago. It was the same hand that Jason had almost broken the year before.

He had… a lot of feelings about what had happened over those couple of weeks in ‘86.

Eddie had told him what had really happened. If those stupid government fucks thought they could force a Munson into obeying an NDA they’d tricked him into while blasted on morphine, they had another thing coming. Plus, who was Gareth going to tell? Eddie had the scars to prove it, and the kids to back him up. No one was going to believe Gareth. Regardless, he knew he had basically gotten off scot-free compared to pretty much everyone else. 

He also couldn’t help the sour twist in his gut every time he thought about how he’d given in to Jason and his goons. How he’d given Eddie up to them. He had been a coward. 

It still made him queasy, thinking about what he had done. 

Eddie had told him not to worry about it, but it was Eddie . Of course he’d say that. The guy was over the top in every possible way, including being loyal to a fault. Gareth couldn’t say the same about himself, apparently.

He’d spent days imagining all the things he could do to get even with Jason, to show Jason what would happen when he messed with Hellfire, and to show Eddie that he earn the right to be trustworthy again. Then, he’d found out the guy had died, and things had gone even more to shit. The previous guilt and anger he had felt before were now spiked with this confusing grief and fear at knowing that this person he had known was dead. 

They were all just kids, really. At the end of the day. Jason, a kid , had died . 

Time had obviously passed. They were all supposed to be moving on. School therapists had been brought in for as long as the school’s wimpy budget could allow. He had “talked it out”. Just because he could name what he was feeling didn’t mean he knew what to do with it all. 

Gareth wasn’t stupid. He could see that his judgment was clouded, that he wasn’t being a good friend to Eddie right now because he was trying to be overprotective of him instead, like that would somehow make things better retroactively. 

He could also… maybe… see that he was suffering from just a hint of transference. 

See, it was easy to dislike Harrington. It was easy to pretend he was a smarmy douchebag. Rumor was, he was kind of a slut. He dressed like an insufferable prep. He had been effortlessly popular in high school. He was everything Eddie and the rest of Hellfire had railed against this ever since they’d known each other. 

Most importantly, it was really fucking easy to switch out Jason’s face with Steve’s, and he could pretend for a while. He could smoosh them together into an amorphous lump, call that lump “Jock”, and his hatred could live on unchecked. 

He had just ignored all of the things that he had seen in the last year that made Steve his own person, and (as painful as it was to admit) a good guy, and kind of a dope. It had been concerningly easy to ignore, actually. 

Yeah, Gareth decided. It had taken vague threats from the chief of police, and more direct threats from a band geek in a stoner hoodie, but Gareth knew it was time to make some changes. 

Apparently, Gareth wasn’t the only one who had come to that conclusion. He probably hadn’t been the only one who had been visited by Harrington’s avenging angels, either. Later that afternoon, while he was out practicing drums in his garage, Eddie’s van came rumbling up into his driveway. Eddie didn’t get out, just sat there and motioned for him to come on.

Gareth dropped his sticks and jogged up to the window.

Eddie’s eyes were a little bloodshot, and he was swiping his sniffling nose on his sleeve.  

“Come on,” Eddie said. “We’ve got some groveling to do.”

Gareth nodded, unsurprised, and climbed in.

They drove over to the Harrington house in silence. Eddie parked haphazardly in the driveway and they stomped up to the front door, where he rang the doorbell with two quick buzzes.

A moment later, a tall, older man in a tan jacket and a pressed polo answered the door. He raised an arched, perfectly pointed eyebrow at them.

“Can I help you?” He asked, sounding bored.

“Um, we’re looking for Steve. Is he here?” Gareth asked. Eddie had never been one for the ‘rents.

The man pulled up his upper lip a little. 

“How the hell should I know?” He asked, and then sighed like they’d asked some huge chore of him. To… know where his son was? He walked back into the house a little bit, till he came to the foot of the stairs. “Steve,” He bellowed sharply. Eddie and Gareth both flinched before they could stop themselves. “Door.”

A couple of beats later, they heard footsteps from upstairs. As soon as he heard movement, Steve’s dad said, “I guess he is here,” shrugged, and walked away.  

“What a douche,” Gareth breathed. Eddie snorted in agreement.

Steve came down and faltered a little when he caught sight of who was waiting for him. He recovered quick, and came up to them with a confused, hesitant smile, but Gareth’s stomach still dropped.

“Uh, hey guys, what’s up?” He greeted, coming to a rest with his hands on his hips. The stance almost made Gareth smile. He looked like a gym coach.

Eddie cleared his throat, toeing at the hardwood in the entryway. “We, um… We came to apologize.” He answered nervously. “For real this time.”

Steve looked just as uncomfortable as Gareth felt. He rubbed the back of his neck and said, “Ah, c’mon, I already told you. It’s really no big deal. Don’t worry about it”

Gareth shook his head. “No, it was really shitty of us. I can’t speak for Eddie, but I have a lot of shit going on that has nothing to do with you, and I took it out on you anyway by cooking up that prank. That wasn’t fair, and way out of line. I’m sorry.”

Steve looked stunned. He moved one hand from his waist to grab his other arm awkwardly like he wanted to curl in on himself.

“Yeah.” Eddie agreed eagerly when Steve didn’t come up with an immediate rebuttal. “It doesn’t matter that we didn’t mean for some of it to happen.” He dropped his voice down to a whisper, just in case Steve’s dad was close enough to hear him. “I didn’t know you were gay at all. That wasn’t what we meant. I want you to know that, if you take anything away from this, I would never make fun of you for that. But even what I knew I was doing wasn’t cool at all. I shouldn’t have done that to you, because either way you’re a good guy. We were total dick wagons.”

“Complete douchecanoes.” Gareth readily seconded.

That got a little chuckle out of Steve, which Gareth snatched up as a good sign. 

“I appreciate it, guys. I, uh, accept your apologies or whatever.” He said softly. Eddie thumped a fist to his chest.

“Ah, long-awaited pardon!” He exclaimed. “Of course, now we embark on our seven-year journey as your righthand men to work off our blood debt to you.”

Steve raised his eyebrows at Eddie in amusement. “Do you… have to?” He teased, pretending to sound exhausted.

Sheepish, Gareth thumped his own chest with his fist.

“Not you, too,” Steve rolled his eyes at him, and his grin got a little wider. 

Something happy in Gareth burned a little brighter. He was starting to think that whatever it was, was Steve shaped. He shot a quick side eye over to Eddie and found that he was still gazing at Steve. It made him wonder if the premise of this whole comedy of errors had been all that fabricated to begin with.

Chapter Text

*Saturday morning*

Early on Saturday, Eddie rolled right out of bed to pounding on his trailer door, heart thumping in fear. He tripped as he fled to open it before his neighbors called to complain, expecting flames and pitchforks.

When he opened the door and was met with Chief Hopper and Robin Buckley, though, he couldn’t say he was surprised by that, either. That didn’t help the rush of overwhelming anxiety and following stream of bullshit that followed, though. He had prepared a whole speech for when he saw Robin again, all the things he was going to say to convince her it was going to be ok… out the window.

“I can explain.” He blurted out when Hopper opened his mouth. Hopper looked at him expectantly. Robin rolled her eyes. “Dustin told us - I mean, accidentally. Everyone had the wrong idea about, see - I never meant… you know, Robin, I couldn’t -” He pulled his hair in frustration.

Hopper cleared his throat before Eddie could start in again. Which he appreciated.

“How about we go inside so your neighbors don’t hafta look at all this anymore?” He asked, motioning vaguely at Eddie. Eddie realized then that he was standing in his doorway in a ratty old pair of boxers, and nothing else.

“Uh, yeah,” He laughed nervously. “Come on in, I’ll - uh, let me go throw on some clothes.”

Hopper nodded. “Good idea.” He said. Eddie hunched up his shoulders a little at the condescending tone. He left the door open for them and darted back to his room, only taking the time to pull on a pair of baggy jeans and a hair tie to keep his hair away from his face.

Robin was standing at the entrance to the kitchen, arms crossed and face unreadable, which was a feat for Buckley. Hopper had settled himself on the couch, legs wide and arms resting on the back. He looked enormous. It was really fucking unfair because Eddie knew he could plead his case and try to convince them he could fix this, but Hopper had him shaking in his metaphorical boots.

The Chief’s steady gaze on him had him petrified, so he focussed on Robin instead.

“Robin, you gotta understand. We’re all the way turned around. We talked to Henderson and realized how bad we fucked up for the first time, I swear it wasn’t what it looked like.”

“I didn’t come here to listen to you talk, Munson,” Robin answered sharply. “You did a piece of shit thing and fucked up so hard, and haven’t said a single word to Steve since. He deserves an apology. A real apology.”

“You’re right!” Eddie answered quickly. “You’re so right. And I swear I will. I just had no idea, no idea how bad this was, and then Dustin told me and now I have no idea how to start, or how to bring it up - “

“You want me to write you a script? It’ll be real easy. Your lines are: ‘I’m sorry, Steve.’” Robin hated him. He was sure of it. He was sure Steve hated him, too. They thought he’d been mocking Steve for being gay, and he felt like such a scumbag. They had to know that wasn’t what he had meant.

Eddie growled. “I know! I know I have to apologize, please let me explain.”

“Explain?” Robin spat. “How will going into detail about your process of being a douchebag help? Why are you being like this? I don’t need to hear more about what you did, and Steve doesn’t need to, either. You hurt him. The person who carried you out of the Upside Down. You hurt him. That’s it. That’s the story. Apologize !”

Knife. Chest. Twist. Cold.

“I didn’t know he was gay!” Eddie shouted over her.

Robin’s horrified expression let him know he’d fucked up yet again, but he didn’t know how.

“Oh, my god,” She shouted. She turned to Hopper and the blood fled Eddie’s face so fast he felt like he was going to pass out. “Chief, he didn’t - he didn’t - Steve’s not - please -”

Hopper hadn’t known.

Hopper hadn’t known.

Hopper hadn’t known.

Eddie thought about a hand gripping his hair, knuckles grinding into his cheekbone.

“I was lying,” Eddie declared stupidly. “I mean, I’m gay.” Maybe diversion could work. He could make a scene here so catastrophic that Hopper would forget. He was gonna be sick.

Miraculously, the Chief looked uncomfortable, but not disgusted or spit-flying-angry. He leaned forward and Eddie and Robin both froze.

“I really don’t want to hear about any of your alls… love lives.” He said awkwardly. “But you don’t gotta be scared of me. All I have to say is that I don’t give a shit, but Ms. Buckley was right to come to me. That’s dangerous information to have on someone. And obviously, subtlety isn’t in your wheelhouse, Munson.”

They both sighed in relief. Eddie took that reprimand gladly.

“You… Didn’t know?” Eddie asked carefully. 

“No.” Hopper scoffed. “Didn’t need to. She came to me yesterday saying that you knuckleheads had dirt on Steve that we needed to insure didn’t spread. After everything that kid’s done, it was the least we could do to make sure nobody’d bother him about whatever it was. And, between you and me,” He leaned forward, giving a menacingly cheery smile. “Scaring the shit out of people is one of my favorite pastimes. So believe me when I say it brings me great pleasure, Munson, if word gets round to me about anything like this happening again? Measures will need to be taken.” 

Eddie nodded furiously. “I understand.” He said. Hopper seemed to accept it and leaned back. Eddie turned back to Robin then and took a deep breath, adrenaline moving from a boil to a simmer. “I know I’m a fuck-up. Obviously. I want to apologize to Steve, so bad. But I want to apologize to you, too.” She looked at him warily. “Like I said, even though I shouldn’t’ve, I didn’t know… about Steve. Like that. The joke was that I was… like that. That I was gay. Gareth said if I flirted with him, I’d get punched. It was really a joke at my expense, to prove Steve was a good guy! Because he is. And everything just went to shit so fast…”

“You don’t know a single thing about him, Munson, don’t try that with me,” Robin answered, voice still strung out and high pitched. “You’ve never really tried to get to know him unless it was to make some joke.”

Eddie winced. He felt so small. “Ok.” He said weakly. “You’re right. Would you hate me even more if I said I wanted to try getting to know him for real?”

Robin glowered. “I just don’t believe you anymore, man.” She said bluntly. “I can accept that you lost control of all this, and that you didn’t mean it. But you still blind-sided all of us. And… I know Steve hates when we talk about it, we all kind of do, but after everything we’ve been through together? After everything he’s done for you - for us? I don’t understand how you could’ve thought it was ok to do that.”

Eddie squeezed his eyes shut, feeling tears start to burn. He had never thought he could feel shame like this so acutely, but Robin had gone fishing and caught the worst part of all of it. In an existential way that he had no idea how to handle, he knew this was the worst part of it.

“I wasn’t. I wasn’t thinking.” He said.

Hopper sighed. “I get not knowing how to handle owing someone your life.” He began, voice much softer than Eddie’d ever heard it. “If I could make a suggestion? Next time one of your buddies is ragging on Harrington and you want to stick up for him, suck it up and talk it out, huh?”

Eddie sniffed and nodded. “I swear I’ll make it up to him. I’ll do anything.” He told them in barely more than a whisper. Hopper stood and started to the door, clapping him on the shoulder as he passed.

“How ‘bout you start with an apology?”

Present

In a fit of madness after the apology to Steve had gone so well and so quickly, Eddie asked Steve if he wanted to hang out the next day. And Steve said yes .

Gareth and Eddie drove away from the Harrington residence, trying to feel more at ease.

“I still feel like shit,” Eddie admitted in defeat. There was a tight lump right at the base of Eddie’s throat that had temporarily eased when Steve had smiled at him, squinty-eyed and sunny, and accepted their apology. The lump was back now that he was out from under that smile, though.

“He is a really good guy,” Gareth answered, sounding a little awed. Maybe that was part of it.

Steve was so good. He had stayed so nice through all of this, trying to smile, trying to wave it all off, had just rolled over and taken all of it, even though Eddie knew it had hurt him.

“Yeah.” He agreed simply.

They fell quiet for a little while longer. Eddie took them back to Gareth’s house, and they moved back to Gareth’s garage.

Eddie threw himself onto the old, dusty loveseat Gareth had moved in there when his parents had wanted to replace it. Gareth sat behind his drumset, tapping on the drums with his fingers a few times.

“I feel like I should do something - be doing something. To… redeem myself, you know?” He said, leg bouncing anxiously.

“He didn’t send us on a quest or anything.” Gareth joked.

“Exactly! No quests!” Eddie motioned emphatically. That was precisely it. He knew he’d said sorry, and explaining himself to Steve had gone exponentially more smoothly than with Robin. But it didn’t feel like saying sorry had made up for anything. It hadn’t proven that he hated himself for what he’d done, that he felt sick over what happened, that he swore he would never do something like that again, that he wanted to be loyal to Steve forever, pledge his life to him like some beautiful, beautiful, terrible pagan deity…

“Listen, man,” Gareth said haltingly. “I know I’m a big part of why you did all this to begin with, so I’m done trying to insert myself where I shouldn’t be. It was a really jacked-up situation, and don’t get me wrong, I still feel bad too. I just… you’re really puttin’ yourself through the wringer. Is there… I guess, a reason? Beyond just feeling shitty?”

Eddie narrowed his eyes at him. “What do you mean?” He asked.

Gareth winced and looked uncomfortably around, shrugging a shoulder. “Do you… like him?” He asked. “Like, really like him?”

There was a pause.

Then, the groan Eddie let out was more of a whimper, and he covered his face and let himself slide over on the loveseat onto his side.

“Sorry, sorry!” Gareth said. “I didn’t want to make anything worse. I just… wondered.”

Eddie groaned louder.

“No, you’re… ugh. You’re right.” He mumbled finally. He had been shoving it down this whole time. At least since Steve had lifted him, barely conscious, onto his wide, strong back and carried him out of the Upside Down. He didn’t want to think of his own feelings, though, because he was terrified that they had been his real, main motivation for keeping this clusterfuck of a joke going as long as it did. And how was he supposed to handle his feelings causing the object of his attraction pain?

But… he wanted. So badly. He wanted to wrap Steve up in his arms, pull him into his chest, find out what that hair felt like under his fingers. What that freckle-dotted skin felt like. He wanted to make Steve forget what it was like to hurt.

“I kind of had a feeling,” Gareth said. 

“Yeah?” Eddied asked sullenly. “Am I that obvious?”

“Nah, no, I don’t think so, really. We’ve… we’ve just known each other for way too long.” Gareth said. They both chuckled. “Can I tell you something?”

Eddie nodded.

“I think that might have been part of the reason why I had such a hard time letting go of all this. Why I wanted you to keep going with it.” He admitted. 

“Awww, Gare, were you jealous ?” Eddie teased. “You never have anything to worry about, baby. I’ll fuck over every chance I get to cheat on you.” He smooched the air in Gareth’s direction and watched him roll his eyes.

“No, dickweed,” He laughed. “If you liked him, and started dating him, that would mean I would have to like him too. And I had a lot of fucked up stuff going on in my head about it. But… Maybe now you have a chance?”

Eddie gave him a wild look. “You’re crazy,” He said. “After everything? I’d be worried about his sanity if he went for me after all this. He might have a hero streak a mile wide, but that would be straight up self-flagellation.”

Gareth rolled his eyes. “You’re so dramatic, dude. ‘ Flagellation’ ? Fuck off, you pretentious asshat. Just think about this like you all are real people for two seconds. He said yes to hanging out tomorrow, right?”

Eddie reluctantly nodded.

“Well, take that as a sign. I’ll fuck off, you tell him I had… I don’t know, tell him my dad wants me to mow the lawn on Sundays or something. And then you guys hang out, really hang out, and just see how it goes.”

Wingman Gareth. Eddie kind of liked it.

He thought about it some. Thought about Steve and his Calvin Klein cologne sitting on Eddie’s couch, Eddie squeezing up next to him, pulling out the little blushes Steve had given him but for real this time…

“Aw, gross, dude, don’t get hard on my couch,” Gareth complained.

Eddie startled out of his daydream with full offense, even though he had to glance down at his jeans to make sure he wasn't. “You’re such a dick!” He accused, and Gareth started laughing. “Don’t talk about my fair maiden like that.”

“You can defend his honor all day long if you want,” Gareth answered, raising his hands in innocence. “He’s a good guy, you’ve convinced me of that. But he is not my type.”

Eddie laughed again, feeling exhausted. He could feel Gareth’s eyes on him, trying to watch Eddie carefully without getting caught.

He really did still feel like shit, and he had a feeling it’d be a while before he stopped feeling that way, totally. There wasn’t a chance in hell Harrington would want him for anything after everything that had happened. He still hadn’t wrapped his mind around Steve wanting him in the first place, before he’d been found out. The guy had a whole, huge spiderweb of a family who looked out for him. The Chief of Police had driven around threatening a bunch of children for him. Which, it really didn’t seem like he’d minded all that much, but still… “It’s the least I can do,” Hopper had said. 

Eddie couldn’t imagine being able to hold onto someone so loved. 

Even so… a plan started forming in his mind. Maybe he could find a way to make it all up to Steve, anyway. Things couldn't go any worse than they already had, right?

Chapter Text

Steve’s Saturday had actually ended up pretty ok. He let himself start feeling a little hopeful. An apology had been the last thing he’d expected. He’d really thought that this would go like his regular breakups, where things crumbled and he’d be left alone to lick his wounds till they healed over and he felt human enough to go on his way again.

But, Eddie and Gareth had made a whole trip all the way out to his house and had really owned up to what they’d done. They hadn’t taken any of the outs he’d tried to give them. Even Nancy had taken the out he’d offered when she’d tried to apologize about how they’d ended. 

That… might have been the first time anyone had really done that, powered through to offer a full apology, for him.

Before the two had left, Eddie invited him over to his trailer to hang out the next day, and Steve accepted smoothly.

So, now it was Sunday. Steve didn’t tell Robin he had accepted Eddie’s invitation. She was still solidly on the Hating Munson train, and all she would have done was try to talk him out of it.

It was overcast, and had been cool and rainy all day, so he threw on an oversized blue crewneck sweatshirt and a pair of worn jeans that were a little loose on him, and headed over.

Eddie answered the door while he was halfway through his second knock.

“Hey!” He said excitedly, “You came!” He was wearing an old band tee, some band that Steve didn’t recognize. It was worn see-through in some places, and had holes ripped up along the collar and along the sides. He wore a loose pair of sweatpants, too.

“Yeah, I came,” Steve answered with a laugh. Eddie motioned for him to come inside. He’d been over to the trailer a couple times, and he’d always liked it. It was cozy. Today, it was already a little smoky inside and smelled like strong weed.

“Come on in, get comfy. Gareth couldn’t make it, Sundays are his family’s ‘work days’ or something. They do yard work and clean and shit like that. Sorry if that makes it weird?” Eddie paused his rambling to shoot Steve a side-eye.

“No problem,” Steve assured him, toeing off his shoes next to the door and taking a seat.

“Cool,” Eddie smiled, relieved. “Take a hit if you want,” He offered, motioning to the blunt that was trailing smoke from where it lay on an ashtray on the low coffee table. “Want something to drink?” he called over his shoulder from the kitchen, as he swung down to reach into the fridge and grab a 2 liter of Coke.

“Nah, I’m ok for now. Thanks,” Steve answered, though he did lift the blunt to his lips and take a small pull. The paper was wet and a little cold, but it was quickly followed up by stinging smoke. He set it back down on the ashtray as Eddie returned.

“Well, I’m not a planner, really, so I’ve got weed, booze, microwave pizza rolls, and then a couple movies?” Eddie said, falling back down on the couch.

“Sounds perfect,” Steve responded, settling back against the couch and throwing an open smile Eddie’s way.

He could have been imagining it, but he felt Eddie’s eyes linger on him.

They spent a couple hours casually hanging out, slowly relaxing around each other again. At one point Steve asked for water, and Eddie hopped up before he could to fill up a mug from the sink and stick a plate of pizza rolls in the microwave. When he brought the spoils back, he set them down on the coffee table and took a seat on the couch much closer than before. 

Steve tried to write it off, thinking it made sense to be closer together so they could be closer to the food, but he couldn’t help but pay fleeting attention to the heat of Eddie’s thigh so close to his. He blamed it on the weed.

He also blamed the weed for how good pizza rolls sounded. Normally, the thought of those grease balls would make his stomach turn, but he grabbed four, and didn’t even care that they were cold in the middle.

They made it to the end of the movie they were watching, all the way past the end of the credits and on to the crackling grey screen as the VHS ran out of tape.

Eddie was leaned back on the couch with his butt scooted almost to the end of the cushion, and his head was tilted painfully down so he could look at his stomach. He had a weird smile on his face.

“What?” Steve asked.

Eddie startled a little and looked up at him blankly.

“What’re you thinking about?” He prodded.

Eddie shrugged and shook his head. “Nothing, nothing. It’s stupid.”

“I mean yeah, I figured that .” Steve teased and nudged Eddie’s knee with his own.

Eddie groaned but laughed along anyway. “Shut up.” He chuckled, shoving at Steve’s arm. “I’ll tell you what I was thinking, just to prove that it’s a real stupid thing to think and we’ll both regret it.”

“Oooh,” Steve said, sitting up and drumming his fingertips together in a steeple-like a cartoon villain. “Can’t wait.”

Eddie looked at him in disbelief. “You’re a real handful when you’re high, anyone ever tell you that?”

“Unfortunately, I’m not even close to high anymore, which means I’m just a handful.” Steve shot back and felt his face warm a little, unbidden, at the look Eddie gave him. “Now quit stalling and spill.”

“Ok, ok. I was thinking about how… God, this is gonna be so awkward but there’s no going back… About how I know I was a dick with the prank and there are so many parts that are more important than this, but never in a million years did I think you’d be into me, too.” Eddie laughed. His face was red by the end of it all, which Steve thought distantly was a nice change of pace.

“Into you… too ?” Steve parrotted back hesitantly. Eddie looked at him, sheepish.

“I really had no idea you were anything but straight. Thought I was being all pathetic, crushing on a straight dude.” He admitted.

“Wait, so you liked me too? Like, for real?” Steve asked. Something painful squeezed in his chest.

Eddie shrugged, gesturing around flippantly. “I mean, come on,” Eddie answered. “You’re Steve Harrington . Everyone did. This was just a singular area in my life where I was not an exception to the rule.”

Something about that stung, but he ignored it, steamrolling forward to try and chase the little spark of excitement he’d felt earlier.

“I mean, you know how hot you are.” Eddie continued. “If I didn’t want to shrivel up and die out of embarrassment, I’d say I’ve wanted you for years.” Steve laughed incredulously. Eddie had turned his shoulders so that one arm was pushing against the back of the couch, and his other hand was picking at the outer seam of Steve’s jeans. It tickled.

“ Years ?” Steve croaked. “No way.” Eddie gave him a grin, looking up at him from under his bangs. Steve’s heart fluttered.

“Cross my heart.” He answered softly. The fingernails that had been tracing the stitching of his jeans moved up to the bottom of his sweatshirt. “I honestly thought you knew, or at least had guessed. I’ve pretty much always wanted to see what it’d be like, to be one of those girls you used to take out.”

Steve shifted to face Eddie even as Eddie moved closer, too. He felt a steady emanation of heat coming off of Eddie and leaned into it like he was freezing. He kind of was. 

“Can I kiss you?” Eddie whispered.

“You want to?” Steve asked. God, please say yes, please say you want to, say you want me. He thought.

Eddie grinned. “Least I can do, after everything.” He answered, and lifted his hand to cup Steve’s cheek. His hand was warm and a little calloused, and the most comforting sensation Steve had felt in a long time. It wasn’t enough to distract Steve from that last comment, though, which had been enough to unsettle something in him.

“‘Least you can do’? What’s that mean?” Steve asked, shifting a little so that Eddie’s soft, dry lips landed in a space between his cheek and chin instead of Steve’s mouth. That didn’t deter Eddie, though, who instead crawled into Steve’s lap and leaned heavy on him, using both hands on either side of Steve’s face to tilt his head up so he could kiss along Steve’s jaw. Steve shivered and stuttered out a breathy sigh, letting his hands settle gently on Eddie’s hips.

“It means,” Eddie said between presses of his lips, “It’s the least I can do, to give you what you want, after everything. I wanna make you feel better.”

Steve pulled himself out of a gathering haze of arousal to try and catch Eddie’s eyes. Dread was trying to push its head up, though it was having a hard time, especially when one of Eddie’s hands moved to thread fingers into Steve’s hair and close into a loose fist.

“What - do… I, unf - do you want this? Why -” He tried to grasp what was happening, even though his hips pulsed up on their own, chasing friction. Maybe he was still high… it was so hard to think, to try and get a read on Eddie.

“I mean, I wouldn’t call it a chore , baby,” Eddie chuckled in answer. There it was. Panic seized his throat.

“Ok, wait.” Steve forced out, squirming up a hand between them to push on Eddie’s chest. “Eddie, wait, I don’t want this.”

Eddie flinched back like Steve had slapped him, a stricken look on his face. He looked so pale and horrified that Steve tried to backtrack and reassure him, even as his own heart hammered in his chest.

“I mean… Fuck, I mean I don’t want it like this. I - I liked you, Eddie, I didn’t just want to fuck you.”

Eddie looked a little lost, and maybe a little heartbroken. “Liked?” He asked. He didn’t seem to remember he was fully on Steve’s lap. “Past tense?”

Steve laughed desperately, rubbing his eyes and then running his fingers roughly through his hair. “Dude… I feel like I’m getting whiplash. Would you know how to feel if you were me? It just… It feels like you’re fucking with me again.”

Eddie started to protest, but Steve cut him off.

“I know, I know you’re not trying to. It’s just… One minute I’m this guy you kind of know and like joking on, and the next minute you’re trying to get in my pants… I try to go with the flow, but goddamn . Do you even know what you want?”

Eddie finally swung a leg back over Steve’s and let himself fall into the opposite corner of the couch. He stared at the floor for a few moments.

“I know… I know I want to make it up to you, to prove I’m sorry for what I did, and that you’re… you’re worth more than just being the butt of a joke.” Eddie said finally, picking at the skin around a thumbnail. “Because… It kind of feels like it’s eating me alive, and nothing I do is gonna be good enough to fix it.” He said miserably. Steve tried to furiously blink tears from his eyes. “I don’t want - this isn’t about me, but I’m not the relationship type. So… when I found out you liked me, I thought, ‘Oh, he wants to bang, that’s something I can do !’ I thought… I thought this was what you wanted.”

Steve pulled his legs up to tuck his knees under his chin. “That’s what everyone thinks.” He said, sounding even more bitter than he’d thought he would. “But I don’t. It’s just all I thought I could get. That’s not all I’m good for anymore, though.” He took a deep breath, trying to get a handle on the cracks in his voice. “I don’t want this if you’re just using me to make yourself feel better.” The sob that escaped him took them both by surprise. Before Steve squeezed his eyes shut in absolute mortification, he caught a glimpse of Eddie’s eyes filling with tears, too.

“Steve…” Eddie said plaintively.

“God, this was so stupid,” Steve said viciously, trying to control his hitching breaths. “I just need to go home.” He bolted up, swiped his keys off the coffee table, shoved his feet into the shoes he’d kicked off earlier, and stumbled outside.

Eddie tried to follow him. “Steve, wait, please. You shouldn’t drive like this. Come on, man, I’m the stupidest person on this planet and you can hate me all you want, but I really don’t think it’s safe for you to drive.”

Steve resolutely ignored him, sniffing hard as he fumbled with his keys to unlock his car door. Tears kept blurring his vision though, and by the second time he’d dropped the keys and had to bend down to pick them up, Eddie had muscled his way between him and the car door.

“I’m serious, Steve, I can’t let you drive off like this.” He began. Steve swiped tears away furiously.

“Can’t you just fuck off ?” He said, though it ended in a shout. “Just fuck off, I want to go home.”

“I know, I know you do, and I’m so sorry,” Eddie answered, his voice painfully tender. Steve hated it. He hated it. “But you can’t -”

“What’s going on here, boys?” A deep voice cut them off.

Hopper?

Steve groaned. This was so many nightmares coming alive at once. He sniffled and looked up. Sure enough, Chief Hopper was walking up to them from the light of the Mayfields’ open trailer door, where Max and El were standing too.

Steve swore and walked a few steps away, turning his back to all of them and trying to scrub his face and disappear any evidence that he’d been crying, even though he knew it was really fucking obvious. 

He heard Hopper and Eddie speaking softly to each other, Eddie explaining miserably that they’d been smoking and had gotten into a fight. Then, he heard heavy boots crunching on gravel coming toward him, and a large hand settling on his shoulder.

“Hey, kid,” Hopper rumbled softly. “I was just dropping El off for a sleepover since the girls wanted to go to school together in the morning. Why don’t I drive you home?” He reached his other hand around and showed Steve his palm expectantly. Steve dropped his keys in Hopper’s hand and scowled, looking away.

“Good on ya. Let’s go.” He used the hand still on Steve’s shoulder to direct him toward Max’s trailer and away from Eddie.

He didn’t look Eddie’s way again, but he could tell the other guy hadn’t moved.

He had to walk past the girls on the way to Hopper’s car. Max had her arms crossed tight across her chest and a stormy look on her face, and her sharp eyes were searching his face intently. El reached out and gave his shoulder a pat, and he had to hold his breath to stop from crying again. 

Hopper told the girls good night and got into the car as Steve did.

As he turned the car on, he asked, “You want to grab something to eat?”

Steve realized he was hungry. Starving, actually. He nodded, and Hopper started driving.

They ended up at the little diner right on the edge of town. Steve ate his whole burger and drank the milkshake that Hop ordered for him. He tried to ignore how puffy his face felt, how sore his eyes were, how stopped up his nose was. He was wildly grateful that Hopper didn’t try to talk to him about what had happened, just let him sit and eat till he was full. 

Hop rambled a little about the last basketball game he’d watched, mentioned that Lucas was getting pretty good last he’d seen, how El had mentioned Steve had watched Max that one day and he wondered if Steve wouldn’t mind watching El every once in a while too? But otherwise, they ate together in easy, comfortable silence. 

When they were finished, Hopper said, “I’ll rope Jon into riding with me back over to grab your car so you have it for the morning.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Steve protested. “I’m ok to drive. I was before too, I just…”

Hopper waved a hand at him dismissively. “You don’t need to go back over there .” He said with a little sneer. “Don’t worry about it.”

Steve laughed a little. “It really wasn’t that big a deal, I just… hadn’t really eaten? And the smoke was pretty heavy even though I didn’t have much, and then… and then… I mean, it just all got on top of me for a minute. I’m totally fine to -”

“Steve,” Hopper cut him off. “You stay away from that asshat. You can do way better. I’m getting your car, and you’re going home.” Steve’s mouth dropped open, and a blush flew to his cheeks.

“Wha- I don’t… What?”

“I’m not saying it again. Game plan’s set. Let’s hustle.” He crowded Steve out of the diner and back to the car.

Before Steve got out once they had pulled into his driveway, and while Hopper was sliding the housekey off his keychain, Hopper said, “Why don’t you start coming over for dinner with me and El once a week?”

“O-oh, I don't want to…” Steve stuttered.

“Harrington.” Hopper cut him off warmly. “Come to dinner on Tuesday.” Grinning back, Steve agreed. 

Chapter Text

Eddie fled back inside the trailer after Hopper guided Steve away, if for no other reason than to escape the glares being shot at him from across the way. He felt… He didn’t know how he felt. He felt too much to know. The lion’s share of it was embarrassment, he thought. Embarrassment that he could have let things go so far, that he could have missed or misinterpreted every sign Steve had thrown at him before he ended up straddling the guy. God, he wanted to drown.

Inside, he went straight to the shelf in their little pantry cabinet that was designated for liquor, grabbed the closest bottle to him, and carried it to his room.

He bypassed the remnants of that evening, the plate with two pizza rolls left, mugs of half-drunk water and Coke, tv buzzing with a tape that needed to be rewound. He didn’t want to look at it.

At one point, there was some commotion outside. He got up and inched toward the window to see that Hopper had come back, he supposed for Steve’s car. He hadn’t brought Steve back, though. Instead, there was a lanky scarecrow frame climbing into Steve’s BMW. Hopper had brought Jonathan back.

Hopper himself was back at the Mayfields’ door, pointing a fatherly finger at Eleven, who was standing tall and looking at him with her arms crossed.

The walls were thin, but Eddie cracked his window open anyway, to try and hear what they were saying.

“I don’t give a shit what happened, you are not to use your powers. Under no circumstances are you to superpower Munson. Understand?” Hopper was saying.

Eleven huffed and stomped her foot. “But Steve - ”

“No ‘But Steve’ about it.” Hopper cut her off. “Steve’s ok. I made sure of it. And Munson’ll get what’s coming to him, one way or another. But whatever it is that he’ll get ain’t up to us. You aren’t gonna be seen or caught because of this, that’s for sure.”

Eleven glared at him and then rolled her eyes. “What. Ever.” She said, in that overly enunciated way that made Eddie think she didn’t really know what it meant, she just liked the tone.

“Anyway, I got Steve to come over for dinner with us. On Wednesday. How about that?”

She did perk up at that, and looked immediately more hopeful. “Help him eat since it’s hard for him, like Robin said?” She asked excitedly.

Hopper huffed a sigh, shoulders dropping, and nodded. “That’s right, we’ll help him eat. I think he likes milkshakes, too, so we’ll add milkshakes to the menu. I’ll talk to you more about it later, though. It’s still a school night, so you girls get some sleep.” He patted her head and walked back to his car.

As he walked away, Eddie glanced back at Steve’s car and met Jonathan’s eyes. He startled, blushed, and closed the window quickly before pulling the curtains and turning away.

He had some work to do - that work being, get so drunk that he forgot his own name. And, more importantly, forgot how it felt for Steve to have to push him away, and what he sounded like when he cried, and that his real friends were afraid that he wasn’t eating.

It almost worked.

Turns out, he had taken Jack Daniels to bed with him. He drank until his head spun and his anxiety eased, and then drank until he slumped over and fell asleep.

The nightmares shouldn’t have come as a surprise. 

He dreamed of Steve crying on his couch and the ground under him opening up, cracking and splitting like one of those infernal gates, so he fell right through. 

He dreamed of Vecna hunting Steve, and Eddie trying to warn him, only for Steve to refuse to believe him. 

He dreamed of Steve, outside at his car, just telling Eddie that he hated him, over and over and over. 

He dreamed of Steve chasing off the bats that were chewing on Eddie’s stomach, looking down into his face, and then deciding that he wasn’t worth it, shrugging and walking away, letting the bats descend again.

He bolted up once, feverishly, disoriented, heart pounding, in the early morning. He lay frozen in his bed and listened carefully, unsure if he was still in any danger, until he heard shuffling and a few bangs and bumps in the kitchen. Wayne had just come home. Sighing, he closed his eyes again, rolled over onto his side and curled tight into a ball. 

As pitiful as it made him feel, he thought about the night that Steve had found him on the picnic table, after another round of nightmares. He thought about the steady weight of Steve’s hand when he’d dropped it on Eddie’s back, about the way his short nails had felt when he’d scratched them back and forth. What if that was the only thing that could ever really make him feel better? That was all he wanted right now, as the nightmares continued to breathe down his neck, and his panicked sweat cooled on his skin.

That was the one thing he wasn’t allowed to want anymore.

He didn’t have the right to want the comfort Steve had given him anymore. Had he ever really had the right? 

He was beginning to realize that what Robin had said was absolutely true. He had never made an effort to really get to know Steve as a person. They were allowed to orbit each other, to pass each other as they did things with the kids, but anything deeper or more real had seemed too dangerous. The only shared experiences that they had had to build on were directly linked to the Upside Down: they had gone straight from strangers who maybe knew of each other, to strangers who suddenly shared a chasm of trauma and a life debt. To act on that, to get closer, to breach the divide, had seemed… cursed. Forbidden. At the very least, awkward as hell.

How do you go about wanting to learn how a guy takes his eggs in the morning when you already know what his face looks like, and how his body twists, while he’s being strangled and torn to shreds?

Now, he would never be able to find out.

He reached for the whiskey.

Eddie lay on his bed in a haze of gross, sweaty drunkenness for two days. He ventured out once to grab leftover lasagna from the fridge. He ate it cold and went back to his room. On his next swig from the whiskey bottle, he knocked over a pile of papers on his desk. They were all old notes from the since-abandoned Hellfire campaign. His eye caught on the doodle of the Ouroborus he had done.

“Do what you wish.” Gareth had been right. It was evil. The freedom to choose, to do whatever you want, was evil. How could anyone be a strict enough master unto themselves to always make the right decisions. The only other option… was that he was the problem.

He tried to go back to sleep.

Wednesday morning (at least, he thought it was Wednesday), he was awoken by the phone ringing. He jolted up, groggy, disoriented, still partially dreaming, and grievously hungover, and darted to the kitchen.

“Steve?” He breathlessly answered the phone.

“Oh! Um. No, I’m sorry, this is Susan M-Mayfield? From across the way?” A hesitant voice answered.

Obviously, it wasn’t going to be Steve. Moron.

“Errr, sorry, Su- I mean, Ms. Mayfield. What’s up?” He asked, squeezing his eyes shut and fighting down a wave of nausea as his brain caught up with all of this sudden movement.

“Well, I really hate to bother you. I really do. I know we don’t really know each other. Last time I had to ask this of someone, I asked Steve. You know, Steve Harrington? Such a sweet boy, but he’s so busy right now with school and work that I really don’t want to bother him, even though he said that I could… Anyway, I’ve been caught up covering shifts at my work again and so I’ll be out of the house until late tonight. I wondered if you had any time to go over and check on Maxine for me? Just once or twice today, once she gets home from school around 3:30, and make sure she’s ok? I can definitely pay you for your trouble though it won’t be much…”

Eddie dug his knuckles into his forehead, head spinning like a top, and missed when Susan stopped her rambling question.

“Hello?” She warbled.

“Yeah, I’m so sorry.” He said. He wanted to say no. Really fucking bad. Max was so angry at him, there wasn’t going to be anything he could do to check on her when he already knew she wasn’t going to open the door. But there was some preschool teacher's voice in his head (it doesn’t sound like Steve, it doesn’t sound like Steve, it doesn’t sound like Steve) that said something like “Now what have we learned about only doing what we want?” and he ended up accepting. “Of course, I can run over and check on her a couple times, no problem.”

“Oh, thank you so much! You really have no idea how relieved I am. I’ve tried to do more to help Max feel more independent, like just having her call me at different times, but last time we tried that she slept right through our last check in and my nerves can’t handle it. I really can’t tell you how much this means to me.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Eddie answered awkwardly. “Um… Ma’am.” 

“Well, I’d better go.” She said, over raised voices in the background. “Thank you again!” And she hung up.

Eddie hobbled to the bathroom and puked in the toilet.

Around 3:30, Eddie moved outside to sit on his front steps and wait for Max to walk up. He poured a healthy three or so shots into a cup and topped it off with Coke to bring with him, and popped open his box of cigarettes.

Max came stomping around the corner soon enough and sneered at him as she walked up and unlocked her door.

“Your mom’s working late,” He mumbled to her. “She wanted me to make sure you got home safe.” She ignored him, true to form, and threw open the door to her trailer and slammed it shut behind her.

A few hours later, he was through with his cigarettes (he had been running low anyway). He swallowed hard and walked up to Max’s door, expecting no answer at all. He even had a little speech prepared, about how she didn’t have to like him to give her mom some peace of mind.

Instead, he heard determined stomps move across the trailer and then up to the door. The door opened, and Max was there - holding a two-liter of Coke which she shook, uncapped, and squeezed from the middle with precise movements.

Eddie stumbled back, shocked, as he was doused face first, coughing and shouting in pain as Coke fizzed in his eyes and up his nostrils.

“What the FUCK ?!” He gargled.

“ What the fuck ?” She repeated mockingly. “You reek, asshole, so now you have to take a shower.”

“Fine, I’ll take a shower, Jesus! I was just trying to do your mom a favor.” He tried swiping the coke out of his eyes. No luck. He ended up trying to grab the back of his shirt which was still mostly dry and twist it around to mop up his face.

“ You don’t need to worry about me .” She answered, matter-of-factly. “I’m better than you. I’m better than all of you. I can take care of myself.” 

“Better than all of us, huh? I’ll give you this much, Red, you have a confidence that I envy. You’re on top of the world.” He coughed and started walking back, shivering a little.

“Don’t have to be better than the whole world. Just have to not be an alcoholic.” She rolled her eyes and let the screen door shut.

He turned back around. “I’m not an alcoholic .” He protested quickly. Images of his dad. Her dad. Billy. He shut them all down as fast as he could. “If you haven’t been keeping up with the last few episodes, things are just kind of shit right now.”

Max scoffed in response. “Guess how many times I’ve heard that one.” She deadpanned and slammed the door closed.

He stood between their trailers, Coke slowly dripping and beginning to dry, sticky, on his skin. As he stood there, he suddenly felt a strange sense of calm. She was right. And he knew what to do about it now. It was time to choose the right thing.

Eddie, determined, walked back into the trailer and straight into the shower. He stripped his clothes off and piled them on the bath mat, then stepped under a spray of water before it got warm and washed the Coke off with the rest of his grime, sweat, and filth. He pulled his hair back, still wet, away from his face.

Then, he grabbed a large garbage bag, opened it with a sharp snap of his wrists, and started in the kitchen. He methodically worked his way through every shelf, every container, every hiding spot, and threw away each and every drug he had. He emptied the bottles of alcohol he knew were his directly down the sink. He moved through the living room and into the bathroom, back into his bedroom, and then out to his van till he knew that everything he’d ever bought off Reefer Rick was sitting squarely in the garbage bag.

He drove it all to the dump and tossed it, and then drove back to the trailer in silence.

Once he was back, since he had already started, he cleaned the whole place for real. The whole bit, opening all of the windows and dusting, whipping out blankets, pulling out the roller vacuum, grabbing the dirty clothes hamper, and taking it to the laundromat. He gathered up his remaining monetary assets and went grocery shopping.

By the time he was done and had fallen down onto the couch in bodily relief, it was dark, and he watched Susan Mayfield’s car pull up in front of her own trailer from his still-open door. He walked over and waved at her, trying to give her a thumbs up and reassure her that he had checked on her daughter and that she was fine.

Susan approached him instead, digging around nervously in her purse. She pulled out two crumpled-up dollar bills.

“For your trouble,” She told him. “I know it isn’t much, but please take it. I really appreciate you looking out for her.”

Something told him that the polite, expected thing to do was to refuse. But, he had just spent the day driving his one regular source of income to the dump, so he figured it would be a better idea to take it where he could get it. He gingerly accepted the bills.

“Thank you, Ms. Mayfield, you really didn’t have to…” He said awkwardly. “I checked on her a couple hours after she got home from school, just knocked on the door is all. She said she was good.” He reported.

Susan smiled at him. Her hair was frizzy around where she had it pulled back in a ponytail, and the circles under her eyes were dark creases.

He didn’t know much about what her situation had been but knew enough to feel some sympathy toward her.

She thanked him again and walked back to her house. He went inside, grabbed the metal lunch box that used to be his modus operandi for dealing in school, and placed the two bills carefully inside. Then, he went back and sat down on the couch, turning on the tv for a little while longer.

When Wayne came home, he looked around the place a little but didn’t react at first. He opened the pantry to put up some food he had left over for lunch that day (half a baggie of crackers and a protein bar) and took a look at the liquor shelf, which was noticeably thinned out. Then, he cast an eye over toward his nephew, who was sitting on the couch and looking tired, but also noticeably trying to avoid his gaze.

He gave a quiet smile and went over to nudge Eddie with the tip of his boot.

“Come on, up you get. Time for bed.” He told him. Eddie gave him a little incredulous look from under the hair that had frizzed out of his ponytail, but complied, letting himself be herded down the hallway.

Before he made it to his room, Wayne stopped him with a hand on his shoulder, pivoted him, and pulled him into a tight hug. Eddie sunk into the hug desperately, breathing in his uncle’s smell. 

Then, Wayne sent him to bed, and he slept.

Chapter Text

Steve felt like a different person. He felt like he had lost his mind like it had shattered inside his skull. Once Hopper dropped him off, he waited anxiously on the stairs for them to come back so that he could be quick about taking the keys to the Beemer from Jonathan without risking waking his dad.

His knee bounced uncontrollably. The food that Hopper had given him was still warm in his belly, but sitting alone and desolate on the steps in his house had him feeling terrible, achy, and spread thin all over again.

As soon as the beams of his own headlights panned around the bend and into his driveway, he shot up the steps and opened the door, coming down to swipe them from Jonathan’s outstretched hand.

He could tell that Jonathan was looking at him, scanning his face, ducking a little to try and meet his eyes, but he avoided him as much as he could. He flinched and angled away, took the keys with a subdued thank you, waved at Hopper just once from his own car behind the Beemer, and then went right back into the house.

First thing that he needed was a shower. A hot shower. The hottest shower he could make. He stripped and hopped under the spray, trying to wash everything from that day right off his body, hoping the memories of it would leak right out of his ears and down the drain.

Something about hitting his breaking point with Eddie, about starting to cry that first time, had released something in him. Had cracked something in his chest. 

He couldn’t remember the last time he had cried, but here he went again. He sobbed under the water.

When he got out, his skin felt cracked and dry. He threw on a pair of boxers and crawled into bed, but couldn’t sleep. 

He couldn’t stop thinking about how it had felt to have Eddie in his arms, the comforting weight of his body on top of him, over him, surrounding him, blocking him in, protecting him from everything else. 

He couldn’t stop thinking about Eddie’s lips pressing against his cheek, his jaw, his neck. 

He couldn’t stop thinking about how that was all he had wanted but in all the worst ways, in exactly the wrong ways. 

He still hadn’t done it because he had wanted Steve - not how Steve wanted to be wanted, really.

Eddie hadn’t really wanted him. He’d just fallen for it all over again, right after he thought he had learned the first time.

He didn’t sleep.

By the time he needed to get up and get ready to pick up Robin, all he had to show for trying to get some rest was about twenty dozing minutes. There was sand behind his eyelids. He dressed, and changed, dressed, and changed, probably five or six times. Everything he put on pulled at him wrong, or felt twisted or scratched at his skin, or was too tight, or drew attention to the scar around his neck. 

He didn’t know why he was trying to look good anyway: he looked grossly pale and his hair was a wreck from where he had lain on his right side with a wet head. So, he put on his favorite old grey hoodie and a pair of jeans that were too big and too long on him and headed out.

Robin came out of her house carrying two bananas and a yogurt cup. She shoved one banana at him instantly and saved the rest for him once they got to school. 

She didn’t try to pry for information this time, but this time he wanted to tell her everything. He had wanted to tell her the night before, but couldn’t bring himself to pick up the phone. It had been late enough that he didn’t want to bother anyone. He told her as much, and she nodded resolutely. 

They made it through their classes, but she called Keith after their last class and called out of work for both of them, pretending that they had both caught a terrible case of food poisoning and couldn’t come in. Complete with gagging, her best woozy voice, and hanging up in the middle of pretending to throw up.

Then, she directed them to the diner. She left him in the car, went in and ordered a few things to go, and told him to drive to the park. 

They set up on a bench with their spoils and he told her everything. He talked right through his tears. Even so, he kept going. 

Finally, he was finished, pulling his sleeves down over his hands and wiping his face. Robin told him that would have been cute, if it hadn’t been for all the snot, and he laughed wetly while he took the napkin from their takeout order that she offered him and blew his nose.

“Listen,” She said finally, more seriously, and laid her hand on his knee. “What happened… I can’t even tell you how angry I am that you had to go through that, or how upset I am that that happened, but… I’m so proud of you. Like, really, I can’t explain how proud I am.”

He looked up at her and smiled a little. “I’m… Kind of proud of myself, too.” He said. And it was true.

They stayed at the park till after the sun was beginning to set and Robin started smacking mosquitos off her skin with increasing fervor. He drove her home and they stayed parked in her driveway to talk for a while after that. 

“Is it… totally weird and crazy that… like, as much as this sucks, I kind of feel… relieved, too? Like, I felt crazy that I was so upset about what he’d said about me the other week.”

“Which you shouldn’t have felt crazy about, because that was batshit and so rude. But, go on.” Robin interjected.

Steve waved a hand at her. “I did though. Like, it hadn’t gotten to a point where it had been real enough to begin with, so why was I upset that he said some douchey things? But now, I know I wasn’t crazy. I feel like I can finally be mad… for myself. You know?”

Robin nodded. “While I still say that you should have felt like this way sooner, I get it. I get where you’re coming from. And I’m right there with you.”

Steve grinned at her. “I know you are.”

He still felt… raw, by Monday night. But, not quite as hopeless.

He was able to talk to his mom and focus on updating her about his classes and homework and how things were going there without getting lost in his head or sounding too strangled. Any exhaustion that she heard in his voice was mistaken for how hard he was working in classes. 

He thought that this was the way through it: he just needed to stop thinking about Eddie. Just move on, be done with it, and find better things to fill his time with.

He fell into bed and slept heavily. 

The next night, Tuesday night, was his first dinner at Hopper’s house. He wore the same clothes that he had the day before, thinking that even if El read his mind and found out, he could probably bribe her to keep that detail to herself. He could tell that he would get better soon, but still took comfort in the soft, worn, oversized clothes.

Courtesy of the Vague Yet Menacing government agency that had taken over clean up in Hawkins, Hopper and Eleven had a nice little two-bed out on the edge of town, but not quite so far as their old cabin.

Steve drove up to find that El was already standing out at the mailbox, watching him come up and waving excitedly. He waved back as he pulled in to the driveway and parked. 

“Steve!” She greeted. “Welcome!”

He laughed. “Thanks!” He answered, and let her lead him inside. The place was simple, and he wouldn’t go so far as to call it decorated , but it was homey and comfortable. As the front door closed behind him, Hopper stuck his head out from where he was in the kitchen, stirring up a deep pot full of Hamburger Helper.

“Steve, c’mon in.” He called. Steve toed off his shoes and then joined Hopper in the kitchen. Right at the entrance was the island, stove, fridge, and cabinets, and further in was the kitchen table, which had already been set for dinner.

Steve leaned against the counter, and Hopper left the stove for a moment to lean into the fridge and pull out a dark beer bottle.

“Want a drink?” He offered. Steve narrowed his eyes at him.

“Is this a test?” He asked in return.

Hopper snorted and gave him a burly grin before nodding. “I ain’t a snitch.” He answered. “ But this’d be your only one.”

Steve shrugged a shoulder. “Ok, then,” He answered. “I’ll take it.” 

Hopper nodded, angled the top of the bottle against the countertop, hit the top hard with his fist so the cap popped right off, and then handed it over.

“Show-off,” Steve muttered, and Hopper winked at him before turning back to the stove.

El moved to the table and grabbed a greasy looking take out bag.

“Steve,” She said seriously. “Have you ever had French Toast Sticks?” 

He looked at her, then at the bag in her hands, and then back at her. “I… don’t think so?” He answered. 

“They are from Burger King,” She explained carefully. There was only one Burger King in a 10-mile radius, they must have made a trek. “Dad brought me after school today, and I saved the last of them for you to try.” She shoved the bag toward him.

Well. Now he had to have some, right? He took the bag gingerly and reached inside to grab a few. They had gone a little limp, cold, and soggy, but were still pretty damn good. 

“Mm,” He told her, nodding, and she returned the nod understandingly.

Hopper finished up prep for food and had them both bring their plates over to the stove to load up. When Steve scooped a little onto his, Hopper gave him a hairy eyeball till he sheepishly gave himself a little more and moved on. He really hadn’t meant anything by it, just didn’t want to eat all their food… Didn’t seem like he’d be getting away with that around here, though. 

“Does that community college you’re going to have any sports programs you’re looking at?” Hopper asked as they all ate.

Steve nodded. “A few, yes sir. More than I was expecting.”

“Have you thought about joining any? If I remember right, you’re a bit of a jack of all trades.”

Steve shrugged and gave a lopsided grin. “Yeah, I’m kind of all over the place. I haven’t really thought about it too much if I’m honest. I’m kind of afraid of over-committing, between the commute and working and just starting out with this new classload.”

“That’s smart,” Hopper agreed. Steve looked down at his plate to try to hide a small, glowing smile.

“I’m going to try out for the swim team,” El announced. “I’ve been talking to Evelyn, my therapist, and she said that I should try to conquer my fears.”

“Nice!” Steve congratulated her. “I did swimming for a while. It’s super fun. I know it can be scary at first, for anyone .” Much less a little girl who had grown up being trapped in water tanks and blindfolded and set afloat on water and manipulated and used and… If she ever started thinking like that, though, she might as well never do anything.

El nodded firmly. “Yes. It will be scary at first. But I think I will be good at it.”

“If you need any help, or want to ease into it before you do it in front of people, you can always come over and use my pool.” He offered, and then awkwardly thought he probably should have asked Hopper’s permission first. “Erm, if that’s ok. I was a lifeguard, so she’d be completely safe with me- I mean, using my pool, you know, if she wanted.” He trailed off.

“Don’t look at me,” Hopper defended, raising up his hands. “She’s got the idea in her head now. There’s no stopping her, whether you want to or not.”

Steve chuckled. “Ok, cool.”

“I’m glad I won’t have to be nervous around everyone at school first.” El observed, sitting and considering introspectively.

“It’s ok if you are there, too. No one’ll tell you, usually, but everyone’s nervous about stuff like that. He-heck, I’m still nervous around water.” He rubbed his neck subconsciously, where the silver ring still encircled it.

“ You?” She asked, breathless, sounding unbelieving.

He laughed. “Yeah, me!” He answered. “I haven’t been all the way in water in like two years . Freaks me out.” He snarled up his nose and shivered exaggeratedly to demonstrate. She giggled incredulously.

“But you aren’t afraid of anything .”

He gaped at her. “Are you kidding ? I’m the biggest scaredy cat in town!”

She laughed harder. “Name one thing.” She said. “One thing that you’re scared of.”

“E.T.!” He answered without hesitation. “Have you seen that alien? Why are his fingers so long? You gotta admit that’s freaky. ‘E……T…… Phone…… Home……’” He demonstrated goofily, “It’s basically a horror movie that they trick you into watching by saying it’s for kids!”

She full-on cackled at that, and he stopped trying to hold in his own laughter.

Hopper shook his head, long-suffering. “You’re both ridiculous.” He muttered, and took a big bite of his food to hide his own smile.

They settled on a few dates for when El would come over and use his pool, and he could start helping her learn how to really swim when it wasn’t a tool for sensory deprivation and freaky mind games.

Hopper sent him home with a plastic container with leftovers that was covered with four layers of plastic wrap looped around the container to try and prevent spilling. He patted him on the shoulder and told him in no uncertain terms that he was expected back for dinner next Tuesday, too.

Steve gave him a shy grin. “I wouldn’t miss it.”

Chapter Text

Eddie asked Wayne to wake him up on his way to work on Wednesday. He instantly regretted it. It was 5 AM, and still fully dark outside. It was cold and misty.

Still, he rolled out of bed and into the shower, brushed his hair down and pulled it back into a ponytail, then looped it over once into a neat bun. He tried using the palms of his hands to smooth down his bangs, and the pieces that fell out around his face.

Then, he put on a nice long sleeve navy blue shirt that had come in a pack to cover up his tattoos, the nice jeans he kept to wear to funerals, and a pair of his uncle’s newer work boots.

He drove into town, parked, and then walked around. Melvald’s was the first place he found with a Help Wanted sign in the window. The manager said,

“Sorry, we actually just filled the last open position.” 

“Oh… Ok, thanks - uh - thanks for your time.”

As he walked out and down the sidewalk, he noticed that the Help Wanted sign stayed up.

The next stop was four blocks away. It was a car wash, and he always saw high school kids wiping down windows and scrubbing tires… 

“No, we’ve got all the staff we need right now. Thanks for stopping by.”

He walked up to the record store, and they told him that they couldn’t afford to hire anyone yet, but to check back in a couple of months.

The mechanics said they didn’t have any openings for apprenticeships currently, and that he needed to have three years of experience, or a trade school certification.

Enzo’s said that they were “fully staffed”.

Hyvee suddenly had no need for a cashier, bagger, or even an overnight stocker.

He walked all the way back into town to get his van, drove home, and collapsed onto the couch in defeat. How was he supposed to do this? 

He had walked over town all day. It was less than an hour before Wayne walked in.

“How come you got your fancy clothes on?” Wayne asked, amused. Eddie rolled his head along the back of the couch to look at him.

“Did you know it might be difficult to find a job in a town after you were accused of murder?” He asked sarcastically.

Wayne’s face softened. “Tryin’ to go straight all of a sudden?”

“That was kind of the plan.” Eddie answered ruefully. “I stopped in every store with Help Wanted signs in town and they were suddenly fully staffed as soon as I walked in. It’s a miracle.”

Wayne grunted and opened the fridge to grab a beer. 

“Sounds about right.” He commiserated.

“Think there are any openings at the factory?” Eddie asked. 

“You want to work in that tin can?” Wayne asked in return. 

“You trying to say i have a choice?”

“Fair. I can ask. You know, you can always go old school. There’s a couple of weeks of summer left. I’ve got a Buddy with a lawn mower you can borrow. There’s always grass to be cut, sticks to be cleared, leaves to be raked.”

Eddie gave Wayne a blank stare. “You hate me, don’t you?” He asked. “That sounds like hell on earth. Like, that sounds like the actual pit of hell. When can I get the mower from your ‘buddy’?”

Eddie thought strategy. He decided the best way to start would be with people he sort of knew. Besides going door to door, it would be the fastest way to start up a client list. He’d have to be careful about this too because since pretty much everyone who knew him wanted to make balloons out of his guts, most of the parents of said people were also out. 

 He started with the safest bet. He pulled up to the Henderson house at 8:30 in the morning on Friday and knocked on the door. By 8:30, Dustin would’ve already left for school, but hopefully, Mrs. Henderson hadn’t left for work yet…

He was jittery and nervous and almost vibrated right out of his skin when the door actually opened.

“Oh, Eddie! It’s been a while since I’ve seen you - you were the last person I expected this early in the morning!” Tittered Mrs. Henderson. “Dusty is at school, of course. Is there something I can help you with?”

Eddie rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. He almost hadn’t thought he would get this far, and so hadn’t really planned his sales pitch.

“Well, I hope so.” He answered. “See, I’m trying to start making a little money, and get some work in to show on my resume, so I thought I might start mowing yards for people, and you were the first person that I thought of?”

“Aw, you’re so kind! That would be wonderful, actually. Dusty and I usually try to do it ourselves, but it is really tough sometimes. You’re a lifesaver! How much are you charging?” She asked.

“Umm… Oh, I don’t - I mean, whatever you’re willing to pay. I can start immediately, too, I have my own mower and everything, I can get started right away.” 

“You are such a doll.” Mrs. Henderson cooed. “Is cash ok, or would you prefer a check?”

“I can do cash!” He answered eagerly. She nodded.

“Let me get my wallet. I do have to leave,” She warned him, “But I’ll set a pitcher with some ice water out for you right here on the deck.”

Excitedly, he gave her a dorky salute, and she left the door cracked open while she quickly moved to the kitchen to get her purse first, which was sitting next to the back door.

She dug around it as she walked back to him, and then folded the bill in half and then in half again before handing it to him. He took it from her without looking - if it had been a couple of quarters and nickels, loose change from her bag, he would have gladly taken it. Eddie had never claimed to be a businessman.

“Thank you, really, Mrs. Henderson. I appreciate it so much. Is there anything specific you want me to do with the yard, besides mowing it? I have a weed-eater too that I can fire up.”

“Whatever you think is best, Eddie. I don’t mind at all, one way or another.”

“Ok! I’ll get started right now!” He exclaimed and bounced down her stairs. She waved at him, thanked him again, and finished getting ready for work.

He unloaded the push mower and weed eater from the back of his van that he’d cleaned out last night, and started up as she set out a pitcher of water and a cup as promised, got in her car, and backed out of the driveway. 

Honestly, it took him way longer than it necessarily had to, but Eddie spent a long time lining up the paths he guided the mower down, alternating which direction he pushed on each line, weed eating up and down the driveway, sidewalks, and around each tree. 

By the time he was done, the sun was high in the clear sky, he had soaked right through the shirt he had on, and sweat was trailing down his legs too. It stung his eyes, dampened his hair, and ran ticklish between his shoulder blades. He stopped to drink some of the water that had been left out for him briefly. The mosquitoes feasted on his arms and legs. He was sunburnt to shit.  

His arms and legs were shaking so much that he looked with trepidation at how high he was going to have to lift it back into his van, but he knew that if he stopped for too long he wouldn’t want to keep going at all. So he pushed forward and heaved the machinery up. 

Finally, he leaned against the van and hit his head against the back, heaving. 

He dug into his pocket and brought up the bill that Mrs. Henderson had given him. 

$5.

That was way more than he had expected, and it gave him the boost he needed to get to climb in the van and drive home. 

When he got home, he carefully placed that bill into his old lunchbox, showered, and fell into bed. 

By the beginning of the following week, thanks to Mrs. Henderson’s glowing reviews and some careful canvassing, he had gathered a few more clients: the Sinclairs, the Wheelers, two families down Spring Street, and spreading. He used the whole $7 he had to his name to buy more gas for the mower, bug spray, and sunscreen. 

He had no mastery of the craft by any means, but he took his time, was meticulous and persistent. His body was not loving the sudden change in career paths, however. His body ached constantly. The evening after he had mowed the Hendersons’ yard, he could hardly move. His muscles had all seized up. There were raw spots on the palms of his hands, so he ripped up an old t-shirt to tie around them. He thought all he ever smelled like now was freshly cut grass, citronella, and sunscreen. The scents had been tattooed inside his nostrils. 

Uncle Wayne alternated between laughing at him and commiserating with him. He usually landed on laughing at him. He said it was about time that Eddie started building up some muscle on his bones, and he was gonna have a tough run of it, being a natural string bean.

Gareth and Jeff asked about band practice a few times, but Eddie groaned at the thought of running his sore fingers along the fretboard of a guitar and groaned louder at the thought of having to pretend he had energy to sing and perform. He waved them off with a few half-assed excuses. 

He thought that a normal guy probably wouldn’t be hit this hard by this new physical labor, but he was also glad for it, in a lot of ways. It gave him something to focus on. Really focus on. 

The painful strain and burn as he stretched and pulled and pushed and lifted and bent was enough to keep his mind focused for large stretches of time. 

Away from the withdrawal symptoms he refused to admit he was experiencing. 

Away from the depressed indifference he felt towards his usual hobbies.

Away from the new, gaping maw of awareness that he had, as he realized and grew into how lonely he was.

So it continued.

A yard a day. No set pay, just taking what he was given. Sometimes that paid off, and he’d get anywhere from $5 to $8. Sometimes it didn’t work out so well, and he’d get $1.50 or $2. 

Two weeks in, and his “clients” were kind enough to keep reaching out. He’d go over to each yard, one yard per day. Even if he wasn’t mowing, he’d clear leaves out of landscaping, finish paint jobs, clear out garages and reorganize them. He didn’t know enough to be a true handyman, but it was enough to keep him on his feet, saving money, racking up provable working experience, all that boring adult stuff. 

Even this late in the summer, word of mouth spread fast. A couple good recommendations went a long way. Somehow, he ended up landing a one-time job over on Loch Nora, one of those sprawling lawns of perfect manicured green. They had a regular lawn care service come out usually, because of course they did, but their regular guys were sick, the service could send out another team but not till the next day, they had a party that night, yadda-yadda-yadda, Eddie had a big job. 

He showed up at 8:30, still blinking sleep from his eyes, shoulder muscles tense. 

The man of the house met him at the edge of the driveway and waved him away when he went for his own mower and weed eater. Instead, he led him around to their shed, opened it up, and revealed a large, brand-new mower, and state-of-the-art clipping and trimming machinery.

Eddie suppressed a whistle and then suppressed the panic he felt at being impressed by lawn equipment. 

His current employer slapped him on the shoulder and told him he’d get paid “according to his work”. He let the condescension bounce off his back, pretended that the grease of bug spray and sunscreen on his skin was asshole-repellent, too. 

He started in. 

The morning stayed cool for a little longer that day. He started sweating and breathing heavy early, because of course he did, but he didn’t feel the additional hot weight of the sun on his neck for another hour and a half at least. 

Then, It happened. 

He saw him. 

He had finished the front lawn, a stately affair that he’d decided to cut diagonal lines into, and was moving to the back where he was trying to maneuver matching lines through and around. There were statement trees and plants and bushes, stone basins and bird baths, that he was having to move around though, so he was trying to focus and stopped a moment to reevaluate, try to make a game plan. 

He killed the motor and swiped his brow, eyes stinging from the sweat and sprays that he accidentally rubbed into them. 

Looking out, he caught a glimpse of movement to his left. From this spot by the patio, he could see a little into the neighbor’s backyard, over the line of greenery that had been planted in a meandering way to try and look natural. There was a pool in the neighbor’s yard. Eddie saw a skinny kid in a black t-shirt and shorts run up beside the pool and stand along the edge, bounding nervously. The kid was followed by a taller, lanky guy in bright red swim trunks, pulling a gray shirt over his head.

Eddie froze. 

That was Steve… Steve, Steve’s house, his pool… he must have been too tired to notice that the job he’d taken was right next door. It had been so long since he’d seen Steve. Weeks by now. Eddie had almost forgotten how handsome he was. 

Steve stood there, on the edge of the pool, skin warm and strong and tan, hair silky brown. His hands were confidently fisted on his hips. He was talking to the kid he was with, who Eddie now saw was Eleven. 

Steve started motioning as he talked; kind, patient movements, with an open smile. His body moved in easy curves as he started dorkily demonstrating what looked like a few swimming strokes.

Eleven started to giggle as Steve made a goofy face and flailed his arms around.

Eddie watched, feeling worlds away from them.

He watched them for a while longer, until Steve turned around partway, twisting his torso sideways in a stretch, and Eddie ducked down on instinct, anxiety spiking in his chest. 

He raced away, throwing himself back into mowing with his head turned down to the ground and shoulders hiked up to his ears. He needed to get this all done with so that he could get out of there before Steve recognized him, or his van, or caught any hint that Eddie had been this close to him. 

He finished the yard, returned the fancy equipment to the shed, and knocked on the door.

The man who had hired him passed around his front lawn and out back with a keen eye, and then cavalierly passed him a $20 bill like it was nothing. Eddie thanked him, gave him a half-hearted spiel about how he was always available, and hightailed it out of there.

Chapter Text

Steve let himself wallow in his upset for a while, taking a few days to take care of himself, nurse himself back to health. 

A few years ago, this would have gone very differently. 

High School Steve would have clenched his teeth and white-knuckled his way through every day, and then gotten blasted out drunk. 

The first time he had gotten his heart broken, really, he’d been 15. His dad had been on his ass constantly, about a low grade he’d gotten on some stupid math test, and the girl he was with (Katy) was making fun of some kid in her class for tanking a presentation, because they had misunderstood the assignment or some trivial shit like that. 

He’d snapped at her, sensitive and secretly embarrassed, to try and talk about something interesting for once. Why did everything they talked about have to be at someone else’s expense? 

She’d glared at him, mouth hanging open, called him a few choice names, and iced him out for a week and a half. 

When she finally talked to him again, it was with cool, dismissive indifference. She broke up with him in the hallway before Geometry, and everyone around them had sucked their breath up through their teeth, Oooh’d them, covered their mouths with their hands in shock even as their eyes had sparkled and turned up in green excitement. She told him, nose turned up prettily, that it was close to the end of the school year, and she’d be a senior that fall, so it really didn’t make sense to keep fooling around with a kid like him when she needed to start thinking about her future, about being with people who were going somewhere. 

He had staunchly squared his shoulders. Started up a mantra in his head: “I don’t care, I don’t care, I don’t care”. Repeated it so loudly in his mind that at one point he stopped listening to her completely. At one point, she apparently asked him a question, but he had tuned her out so effectively that he missed it entirely and only noticed that everything had gone quiet. 

“Sorry, what was that?” He’d said. Everyone around them had exploded into raucous shouts and laughter. Katy’s face had gone a painful purple-red, and he still remembered the sick, gut-turning guilt he’d felt when he saw the hurt in her eyes. 

But, it was quid pro quo. Every single person in that hallway had been a vulture, himself included. No one had a strong enough sense of self to truly be able to consider the people around them, even in relationships. No one was interested in vulnerability. They were all cowards about it. 

He had gone on pretending, practicing his mantra, the whole week. The tension and emotion inside him festered and turned into seething anger.  Then, he weaseled his way into a senior party Friday night, drank so hard he probably surely gave himself alcohol poisoning and spent the rest of the weekend throwing up rancid, burning bile into his toilet, alone and no one the wiser. 

As rough as it was, he felt an encouraging, tired emptiness come Monday. An ultimate catharsis. It was ok to go crazy sometimes - your body needed it, he thought. Purge your system of everything, bad stuff included, and you could start over fresh after. 

That was what he had tried to show Nancy when he could see her flooded with grief. He’d tried to say, See, this’ll help. Just do whatever, go big, dance it out of your system. You’ll feel better after. Because that had been the only way he’d known that had worked for him. 

He’d been a kid. That’s all. He’d been a lonely kid who was too busy protecting himself to make a genuine, vulnerable connection with someone. He’d been desperate for relief himself, in a way that had blinded him to the fact that maybe regularly wrecking his body to feel ok again wasn’t the best, and sure as hell wasn’t sustainable. 

Maybe it was all growing pains. 

This time, he didn’t want to go out. He didn’t want to drown himself. 

Instead, he wore his slouchiest, softest clothes. He cooked himself his favorite comfort foods, over and over (so he had a lot of tomato soup and grilled cheese). 

When Robin came over on the days when they had classes but no work, they worked on homework and reading together in his bed, under three blankets and tucked in between five pillows.

It wasn’t much, but it was enough. 

Being gentle to himself, caring for himself, was different. There wasn’t an immediate release like there used to be. But, as the days came and went, he could think on what had happened without wild tendrils of pain lashing out at him. He could try to work out what he was feeling without despair swallowing him up. Sometimes, he would trip on a sore spot, but it was a learning process. Knitting himself back together like this was different. It took patience. But he was beginning to think it was worth it.

Five days after his dinner with Hopper and El, Steve woke up early and went for a run. He came back, showered, and fixed his hair, in that new way he found that he liked. He put on a nice, soft t-shirt that smelled like laundry detergent, his nice pair of light-wash jeans, and went out to the grocery store feeling more like himself than he had in a very long time. 

It wasn’t much, but it was enough.

Three weeks out past that fateful night, Steve had reestablished a kind of routine. Removed from the madness of whatever had gone on between Eddie and himself, he found that he was almost relieved that it hadn’t worked out between the two of them. For so many reasons. 

Once he had stumbled upon that shock of relief, though, he tried to unravel it, and the closest he believed he had come to a solution was in this way: 

He knew that what he wanted was changing. It was different than it used to be back in high school, where kindness and connection were things that he could only secretly want, only secretly hope he could stumble upon. So, maybe it made sense that how he found that relationship would be different.

Robin had shot him down about his theory that he had been tricked into liking Eddie. And Steve thought she was right: his feelings had been real. 

But at the same time, they had been real in the same way that all of his past feelings for people had been real. He had gone back to what he had known. He had been sincere, he had been genuine. He knew that. But he hadn’t really been thinking. That wasn’t how he wanted to go into a relationship anymore. 

Maybe… This could be a big ask, but he wanted to be friends with someone first. Real friends. First. 

It made him a little nervous, mostly because that sounded like it would take time. What if no one wanted to make that effort with him? 

Maybe they wouldn’t. But he hoped it would be worth the risk.

Besides his weekly dinner with Hopper and El, the rest of the kids had all started inviting him to their Friday Game Nights at the Byers’ house. Will had tried to be nonchalant about his invitation, and it made Steve chuckle thinking back on it. 

They had been at the Byers’. Steve had come inside briefly when picking Dustin up from said Game Night and had sat down on the couch to wait for them to clean up.

“We, uh… we just, miss you, you know? Like, we totally get that you’re too busy to drive us places. Plus, I’m working on getting my license so we don’t have to bother you about that anymore. But… Like, part of the reason we wanted you to drive us around was so we could hang out with you.” He said and blushed hard.

“And to show off getting out of that car.” Mike had added smugly. Everyone else had rolled their eyes and shoved him, to his own giggling protests.

“ Anyway, ” Will pushed on. “Do you wanna come to our game nights? Sometimes Jonathan and Argyle are there. Robin can come too. It’s just a chill hangout night.”

“Is this your way of tricking me into playing your lizard game?” Steve had asked, fake hesitant.

“ UGH ,” Dustin had exclaimed. “It’s dragons, and you know it. One of these days I’m going to stop correcting you, and you’ll say it somewhere on accident and it’ll be so embarrassing.”

Steve had grinned. “See, something tells me I won’t be embarrassed by that.” He said, pretending to consider. “I don’t actually think that’ll bother me at all.”

“Just say you’ll come!” Dustin said impatiently. “It’s not DnD, it’s like Sorry and Connect Four and shit. Easy games that won’t hurt your brain.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Have you ever considered not insulting someone when you’re trying to ask them for something? I know that’s a crazy idea, but you might find it makes your life a little easier.”

Dustin growled in annoyance and dove for Steve’s side, pushing him over sideways onto the couch he was sitting on. They had wrestled, but Dustin was getting huge for the pipsqueak that he was, and had ended up pinning him to the ground with a knee in Steve’s belly and his hands on his wrists. The triumphant smile on his face had almost been worth the feeling of a cold, squished french fry on Steve’s back (remnants of some of their snacks). 

“Would you let me up off the ground, nimrod, we’re guests.” He bitched.

Dustin gave him a smug grin before graciously letting up.

“So, will you?” Lucas prodded hopefully.

“Oh, alright, alright. It’s not like I have anything else going on, anyway.” 

They had all cheered.

Game Nights turned out to be pretty fun. True to their word, Jonathan and Argyle showed up sometimes. Robin would join sometimes too, but not every week. 

Steve had been nervous, at first, about the idea of hanging out with Jonathan. They had never really… clicked. They had gotten to a point where they were ok with each other, but it was still bound to be awkward, especially when it seemed neither of them could keep their proverbial feet out of their proverbial mouths.

Steve didn’t even know what had compelled him to ask this, but he had found himself alone in the kitchen with the other guy, coming in for refills. He was waiting for Jonathan to finish up refilling a water glass at the sink and the next words out of his mouth were,

“So, how’s Nancy?”

They both looked at each other in surprise. Steve was just as stunned by the question as Jonathan. He held in a wince.

“Uh, she’s good, I guess,” Jonathan answered warily. That was fair.

Trying to salvage it but not really knowing how, Steve powered through. “That’s good, that’s good. She made it to school for journalism, right? Weren’t you going to go with her?”

Jonathan’s face had always been hard for Steve to get a read on. He watched his expression shut down a little more, and began to silently panic.

“Sort of. It’s complicated.” Was his response. Steve nodded.

“Yeah, of course. Sorry, I didn’t mean to - I mean, I didn’t mean anything by it, obviously.”

“Why ‘obviously’?” Jonathan asked. “What’s supposed to be obvious about that?”

Steve raised his hands, an action that would have been more successful if he hadn’t been holding three cups. “Listen, I’ll just shut up. I really didn’t mean anything. You’ve got nothing to… worry about, or whatever.”

Jonathan snorted. “Yeah, I wasn’t worried about anything.”

Ouch. 

“Is this always gonna be weird?” Steve asked.

Jonathan snorted, and Steve noticed with relief that his shoulders dropped. “Yeah, you’re right. This is pretty weird. I’m sorry… for snapping at you.”

Steve shrugged. “I’m the best at backing myself into dumb corners, don’t worry about it.” He said.

“It’s not your fault. Things with Nancy and me… Are weird right now.” He confided, and then stopped, seeming to have forgotten and then suddenly remembered who he was talking to. “Is it ok if I talk about it?” 

Steve set his glasses on the counter. “Sure thing,” He answered lightly. “I didn’t mean it to come off so weird before, but I promise the last thing I want to do is try to shove myself back into Nancy’s life in a way neither of us wants. Whatever we had… It’s done. And I think both of us are happy that we moved on.”

Jonathan nodded gratefully. “We’re… kind of on a break right now. Like, a weird break that neither of us really talked through. You were right, the plan was for us to go to school together. We talked about it a lot. But… I wasn’t ready to leave everyone here yet. My family, I mean. And she was. Communication isn’t… well, this is my first real relationship, you know? Learning to talk things out instead of just thinking about yourself and what you have to do is weird, and I’m definitely not good at it yet. 

“Plus, it feels like I have to choose between making my girlfriend happy and taking care of my family. I know Nance doesn’t get that, we’re really different that way. But… It’s not fair. I know we’re different, and she’s never had to think about… you know supporting her family, but it doesn’t feel like I should have to explain that to her. I’m pretty sure she thinks I’m just too chickenshit to make a big change, that I just don’t want to go after what I want… So we didn’t leave on great terms.”

Steve leaned against the counter. “Sorry. I’m sorry that things are weird like that right now. Is it - I don’t wanna cross any lines, so you can tell me to shut up whenever. But are you at a spot where things are weird and you don’t know how to fix them, but you want to? Or… Like, are you questioning whether you want to keep trying for it at all?”

Jonathan nodded morosely, looking at the patterned linoleum floor, which was barely lit by the dim kitchen light above them. The shadows cast on his face looked sharp.

“I think I want to fix it. She just… I mean, you know. Nancy has a really strong, black-and-white kind of personality. I’ve never been like that. I’m afraid that if we keep wanting such different things, she isn’t going to be interested in me . You know?”

Steve chuckled. “Oh, believe me, I know. People talk a lot about relationships being about… eh, you know, compromise, and sacrifices, and all that shit. I still think you’re allowed to want what you want and be disappointed that the other person doesn’t want the same thing.”

Jonathan gave him a funny look out of the corner of his eye. “How many Cosmopolitans have you read?” He asked jokingly. Steve let out a loud laugh.

“I’m not gonna answer that.” He teased back, and Jonathan laughed too. 

They fell silent for a little while.

“Well, enough gross honesty time for me. What about you? Playboy Steve still roaming Hawkins? I haven’t heard you - or the meddling kids in the living room - talk about any new people you’ve got your eyes on.”

Steve laughed and shook his head. “No, no one for me right now. If it’s gross honesty time, then I’ve kind of been questioning every relationship I’ve ever had. I think I’ve always wanted a relationship so bad that I didn’t stop to really think about building a relationship with the person I was with. Does that make sense? Like, I’ve always gone about things ass-backwards, and I think that’s a big reason why everything gets all screwed up for me.”

“Like how you learned to crawl,” Jonathan said, sounding way too happy about it. Steve looked at him incredulously. “Nancy told me,” Jonathan explained, and Steve groaned and hid his face.

“That was told in semi-confidence, and you have all betrayed me.” He said. Jonathan laughed and patted him on the shoulder. 

“She was… kind of defending you, if that makes it any better? It probably doesn’t. I made some dumb comment about you. She told me how you’d changed. Like, really changed. And she’s right, you’re totally different from how I expected you to be. Or maybe I just had to learn how to give you a chance. I… am sorry, for my part in everything. Not to drag it all back up, but… I don’t think I ever told you that. So. I am.”

Steve smiled. “Thanks, man. You really didn’t have… Well. I mean. I appreciate it.”

Mike walked into the kitchen. “What’s taking so long?” He complained. “Steve, it’s your turn. We’ve been waiting for ever .”

“We were fighting over your sister,” Steve answered immediately.

“Yeah,” Jonathan joined in. “I told him she deserves someone with better hair than me, he said she wants to be with someone who can throw a punch. We’re at a standstill.” Steve laughed, and Mike faked a gag before swiping his glass out of Steve’s hand, refilling it, and stomping back into the room.

Steve nudged Jonathan’s shoulder and they got back to it.

Yeah… It wasn’t much, but it was enough.

Chapter Text

It was now well into September, and business was admittedly slowing down. Eddie had saved up a little stash of money and was honestly grateful for the work easing up.

Susan Mayfield reached out again a couple of times after finding out that he was looking for work. So occasionally, he would use his free days to stay close to home and keep an eye on the Mayfield trailer to make sure it didn’t burst into flames or anything. He’d go over every few hours and knock on the door until Max cussed him out and then he’d leave, mission accomplished. It was an easy way to make a couple bucks.

It turned out to pay off in more ways than one, anyway. 

On the last Saturday in September, he was on his way over to check on her when a window was cracked and he heard Eleven’s voice. Normally, that wouldn’t faze him, but this time…

“Steve said his favorite dessert is Monkey Bread. What is that? Monkeys are animals, right?” She was asking incredulously. Eddie found himself intensely interested in the dented siding right under the window.

“It doesn’t have anything to do with actual monkeys,” Max explained. “It’s just a funny name for a… I think it's kind of like a cake, with lumps of bread and a sugary sauce? Not… Ok, it’s like a cake made out of chunks of french toast!”

“That does sound like a good dessert.” El agreed. “Even though it doesn’t sound like anything to do with monkeys.”

Eddie decided not to knock on the door, and instead slowly walked back home. He had an idea.

Unfortunately, to bring this idea to fruition, he needed help. So, he once again found himself on Mrs. Henderson’s doorstep that evening. 

Mrs. Henderson answered the door with a bright smile and a wine glass in her hand. She was wearing a long skirt and what looked to be a hand-knitted sweater that was surely made with all the love in the world, but very little talent, if the lopsided sleeves and gaps in the shoulder said anything. 

“Eddie! It’s so good to see you. What brings you by?”

“Um, hi, Mrs. Henderson. Sorry to bother you. I just wondered if you, maybe, would be able to help me make monkey bread?” He asked. 

Anyone else probably would have laughed in his face - he’d worn his hair down so it was frizzy and wild, had on a pair of black ripped jeans and a long sleeve graphic t that he probably should have changed, though he hadn’t thought about it till just then. He probably would have taken his rings off, too, and the chain that had been left connected to these pants. 

Thankfully, this was Claudia , so all he got in response was a sympathetic frown.

“Oh, I wish I could help, but I’m afraid I’m not much of a cook - or baker, in this case. I might be able to ask around and find a recipe and then we could figure it out together, although -” Her face lit up. “What am I saying! I might not be able to, but I know just the person to ask! Come in, come in.” 

She opened the door wider and motioned for him to follow.

He obeyed, stopping for just a moment to put his hand against the doorframe so he could toe off his boots, then closed the door behind him and padded after her in his ratty old socks.

She took him to the kitchen, where he awkwardly found he hadn’t been the only one coming to pay her a visit.

“Who was that at the door, Claudia?” 

Karen Wheeler called, sitting at the kitchen table with her own glass of wine in front of her. She wore a pair of high-waisted, bright blue pants, a striped blue and orange top that looked soft but had a stark white collar on it, and a pair of pointy-toed flats. Her hair was styled in its usual voluminous curls, but she had a wide white headband to keep it out of her face.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, Mrs. Henderson. Mrs. Wheeler. I didn’t see any other cars in the driveway, I didn’t want to bother you -” Eddie panicked a little, putting his hands up in front of him and trying to back out. 

Claudia tutted and grabbed his arm in a warm if surprisingly firm grasp.

“Eddie!” Karen said in surprise, though not in a bad way. “It’s good to see you!”

“Hi, Mrs. Wheeler,” Eddie responded, chuckling timidly. “It’s good to see you, too. How, um. How are you?”

“I’m doing alright, thanks. Glad to be out of the house for the night.” She grinned at him. “And don’t feel bad about not knowing I was here, Ted - Mr. Wheeler, that is - dropped me off on the way to his poker night with his work buddies.”

“Karen,” Claudia said, “Eddie is on the hunt for help making Monkey Bread. Didn’t you make it for Easter last year? It was delicious! You know what happens when I start going in the kitchen - “ The two of them giggled, “So I wondered if you would be able to help him out.”

“Monkey Bread! Good choice! What’s the occasion?” Mrs. Wheeler asked.

“Oh, erg… It’s… Oh, it’s my uncle’s birthday. Next Wednesday. It’s his… favorite?” Eddie stumbled.

“Happy birthday to your uncle! And good choice. That’s so easy, I could teach you how to make it in a jif. I wish I had known before I came by, I could have lent you my bundt pan - I’m assuming you don’t have a bundt pan.” Karen said confidently, and Eddie nodded in agreement. What the fuck was a bundt pan? “Tell you what. Ted’s going out of town next week, traveling for some work event.” She waved her hand dismissively. “So most of my evenings are free. Why don’t you come over Tuesday night, and I’ll teach you how to make it? That way, you can use all of my cooking things, and it’ll be fresh for him the next day!”

“Oh, that sounds fun!” Claudia exclaimed. “Could I join?”

Karen clapped her hands together, face glowing in excitement. “Of course! It could be a little cooking class, just the three of us.”

…. What did he just get himself into? Eddie couldn’t help but wonder nervously. 

But, if he really wanted to make this dessert, and if it called for mysterious things like bundt pans , he didn’t have much choice. He’d have to brave the arena of a suburban housewife’s kitchen. 

For Steve.

Tuesday evening, he showed up at the Wheelers’ front door in a plain black sweatshirt, jeans with minimal rips, and nicer socks to walk around in. 

He knocked, and a tiny, sunny blonde child in a frilly dress answered and scrunched up her nose at him.

“Hello?” She said.

“Hiii,” Eddie answered, looking down at her. “Are you Holly? I mow your grass sometimes. I’m… here so your mom can teach me how to make a dessert!” 

The little girl snorted at the goofy picture he was sure she was imagining.

“Holly!” A light voice called from the rear of the house. “Did you get the door, honey?”

“Yep,” Holly answered and walked away.

Eddie awkwardly caught the door before it closed, and he hesitantly leaned inside. “Mrs. Wheeler?” He called. “Is it… Ok if I come in?”

He heard clicks of heels coming toward him. 

“Yes, yes, of course!” She called back, and then rounded a corner and came into sight. 

Tonight, she wore pastel pink checkered pants and a bright pink fuzzy sweater to go with it, wearing a pair of pink kitten heels. She already had on a bright yellow apron. 

Eddie stepped inside, quickly toed off his boots, and followed her as she waved him in. 

“Is, uh, Mike here?” He asked, trying not to sound too nervous about seeing a sixteen-year-old. 

“No, no, it’s just Holly and me tonight. Mike told me he has a group project that he needed to go over to Will’s house for. You know him, though. That could have been a big old fib.” She laughed. “Claudia hasn’t made it here yet, either, but that’s ok. I was just pulling out all of the things that we’ll need, anyway.” Karen said over her shoulder. “Have you eaten? We just finished up dinner, I can pull out our leftovers if you’re hungry! We had pork tenderloins tonight, and some mashed potatoes and peas and corn. Do you like any of that?” 

She motioned for him to take a seat at one of the bar stools in the kitchen.

“I don’t want to take any of your food…” Eddie protested as Karen immediately began busying herself continuing to pull things out and place them on the counter - a few Pyrex bowls that were green with a band of white flowers around them, measuring cups, a metal pan with a point coming up in the center of it.

“Oh, nonsense. If you aren’t hungry now, I’ll pack you a little plate to take with you.”

They heard another knock and were quickly joined by Mrs. Henderson, who looked like she had just gotten back from work, wearing a nice beige pantsuit with a cream blouse underneath.

Mrs. Wheeler handed Mrs. Henderson another apron, and they were almost ready to get to work when Holly wandered back into the kitchen and gave Eddie a haughty look.

“Where’s your apron?” She asked.

“Oh, I don’t… think I need one…” Eddie answered lamely.

“Honey, Eddie doesn’t -” Karen began.

“You’re always supposed to wear an apron in the kitchen! You’ll get a sticky mess everywhere if you don’t!” Holly exclaimed, seeming shocked that her mother was about to break what was apparently the Golden Rule around here.

Karen mouthed ‘Sorry,’ at him, and was getting ready to steer Holly out when Eddie sighed and shook his head.

“Do you happen to have an extra apron I can borrow, Mrs. Wheeler?” He asked with a little smile.

Holly laughed and clapped happily, running over to the pantry to grab one for him. She picked out a blue one with a ruffled edge and white polka dots, with a little red heart in one corner of the front pocket.

He pulled it over his head but couldn’t figure out how to get it under his hoodie all the way, so it stayed bunched up at his neck a little. Holly giggled gleefully once he had it on.

“Now you’re ready!” She told him and then bounced out of the room.

“I’m sorry about her,” Karen said, smiling fondly. “She’s got one heck of a personality. You can take it off if you’d like.”

Eddie shrugged. “That’s ok, wouldn’t want to get a sticky mess everywhere.” He told them. Both women laughed and they got started.

Karen Wheeler was a tough teacher. 

She had him make it all himself and made Claudia make her own, while she watched on and directed. She told them this was the easier recipe, because she just used canned biscuits instead of making the dough from scratch, and he sent a thankful prayer up (he might have been praying his thanks to her for all he knew). She had saved him from being even more in over his head than he already was.

“Does your uncle like walnuts? We could chop up some walnuts!” She said. Uncle Wayne hated walnuts. Steve, though… He didn’t know. Should he know that? Would walnuts be good in his monkey bread? Would Steve like it better with walnuts? Or would they ruin it?

Karen seemed to pick up on the fact that he was freaking out a little bit about it, and said, “Well, let’s hold off on walnuts this time. You can always make it again and add them! It’s more of a classic Monkey Bread without them.”

Eddie sighed in relief and agreed. He didn’t put any walnuts in his, but Claudia chopped up a handful or two to add to hers.

He preheated the oven, cut up canned biscuits, put all of the pieces into the mixing bowl and toss them with cinnamon and sugar till they were all (mostly) evenly coated, and then put them into the bundt pan after he greased it. Claudia did the same, and between the two of them, they only flipped out three pieces of sticky raw biscuit onto the floor. He clumped up a few paper towels, ran them under water and then pumped a bit of soap into them, and wiped up the mess on the floor.

They melted butter and whisked in brown sugar in a saucepan on the stove next. He accidentally set his burner too hot so he burnt it all the first time and had to start over before doing it well enough that he could pour the glaze on top of the biscuit pieces.

While their breads were in the oven, Karen pointed them to blocks of cream cheese and instructed them to take a fork and squish the blocks down with powdered sugar until they melted a little.

Once Karen gave her approval of the consistency, they set them aside and waited for the oven timer to go off. Karen made them cups of peppermint tea while they waited. Eddie had to put a few spoonfuls of sugar into his, but once it was sweet enough, he had to admit it was really good.

“I can pay you back for all of the supplies,” Eddie offered a few minutes before the timer went off. Karen waved her hand at him.

“Don’t you worry about it. You really did me a favor, cleared out a little bit of my inventory. This was really so fun, I’m glad we made this happen!” She answered, leaning over to rub his shoulder. 

He looked down at her hand in surprise, and then back up at her. There was something kind and knowing in her face that shocked him - he found himself getting emotional all of a sudden, in a way he couldn’t place. He wondered briefly if this was what having a mom was supposed to be like. 

He looked back down at his shoulder to avoid her gaze… and noticed that his sweatshirt was somehow smudged with powdered sugar up high on that shoulder. How had it even gotten there?

The timer went off, and they jumped to pull out their creations. 

They finished their tea while letting the breads cool, and then drizzled the cream cheese mixture overtop. After letting the cream cheese mixture set, Karen helped them transfer their breads onto wide plastic dishes that she said she didn’t care about. Eddie’s cracked a little in the move, but he hoped it wasn’t too noticeable. Then, she gave them each these long thin sticks, that looked like toothpicks for moderately large giants, which she instructed them to stick into the bread so that when they laid cling wrap over top, it didn’t go over the icing to mess it up.

They were almost ready to go, and Eddie pulled off the frilly apron that was now covered in sticky glaze and puffs of powdered sugar, just like Holly had predicted. He asked Mrs. Wheeler if he could use her restroom, and she directed him down the hall.

Fortuitous, that decision was, because while he was peeing, the front door opened and Mike and Dustin traipsed in.

Eddie walked back to the kitchen and heard Claudia offer up a piece of the Monkey Bread that she had made for Dustin to try. Eddie hung back at the doorway for a minute, hoping that he could remain undetected till they moved on and he could slip out the front door. But, because he was who he was, he should have known better than to hope.

“Eddie and I made them together!” Claudia announced proudly, motioning towards him as he must have just come up in her line of vision. 

Dustin’s eyes shot over to him, and he turned around, marked to the sink, and spit out what he had in his mouth.

Ouch . He winced, hunched into himself a little, and rubbed the back of his neck.

But, it was fair enough. 

“Dusty!” Claudia scolded, swatting at his arm. “What on earth was that? So rude!”

He shrugged. “I bit into something gross.” He told her lamely.

She sighed. “It was a walnut. I added them because I thought they would be yummy. Oh, well, are you ready to go home?” Dustin agreed, and Mike dragged him out of the kitchen under the pretext of grabbing their things.

“Sorry about him,” Claudia said.

“Boys,” Karen shook her head understandingly.

“Boys,” Claudia agreed. “Except for you, of course, Eddie.” She winked at him, and he sputtered a surprised laugh.

“First time I’ve heard that,” He joked, and the ladies both laughed.

“This was really fun, though,” Claudia told them earnestly. “Would we want to make this a regular thing? Weekly cooking lessons?”

“Ah, I would love that!” Karen agreed. “Eddie, what about you?”

He laughed, and could not believe what he was about to say. “I’d like that a lot,” He told them. Then, after thanking them again for doing this, he took up his Monkey Bread, a Tupperware container with cold pork tenderloin, potatoes, peas and corn, and went home. He still had some things to do.

Chapter Text

Steve was in the kitchen eating a lettuce wrap for breakfast early Wednesday morning when there was a knock in the door. He fumbled with the wrap in his hands, trying to set it down, but it ended up falling apart anyway. He cursed and let it fall.

By the time he got to the door, there was no one there. He tried to peek his head further out to catch a glimpse of whoever it had been, and instead just heard a car engine revving its way down the street. Going to close the door, he glanced down.

On his front step was a plate covered in cling wrap, with an envelope settled on top of it. The envelope said, Steve .

Intrigued, he stepped out, carefully picked up the plate with the envelope balanced on top, and carried them all inside. He set it all down on the counter and peeled off the cling wrap first. 

Monkey Bread? Someone had given him Monkey Bread? He knew that he’d mentioned it to El, since she’d asked what his favorite foods were… If she had brought him the dessert as a surprise, why hadn’t she stuck around? 

It was falling in on one side, cracked a little, and missing two pieces (he could tell because there were holes in the white icing on top), but he smiled and pulled off a piece and popped it in his mouth anyway, humming as the sugar and cinnamon melted on his tongue. 

That was really good.

He turned to the envelope next, after wiping his sticky fingers off on a kitchen towel. The writing was a little shaky like whoever had written his name had tried being so careful to write it neatly that it backfired a little.

The envelope wasn’t sealed, so he just flipped it open. Inside was a torn piece of notepad paper that had been ripped a few times along the side. He folded it open carefully.

Steve, it read,

I heard this was your favorite dessert. Don’t worry about snitches, I was eavesdropping.

I want to apologize. I want to say that I’m so sorry. For what happened, for what I did. No excuses this time. I wrote it in a note because apparently I suck at apologies, and because I had a feeling you’d try to forgive me, but I haven’t earned that yet.

Just don’t give up on me, OK?

-Eddie

Steve felt his face warm as he read over the words again, and then felt a smile steal over his mouth.

He didn’t even notice that he was smiling at first. When he did, he felt a jolt of anger. 

Well, maybe anger wasn’t the right word. Frustration, maybe, at himself for feeling that way. And glancing frustrated thought in Eddie’s direction, too. He didn’t know why he felt like that, initially.

Wasn’t this good?

He… didn’t know. Like, he guessed it was good, objectively. It was really nice. But he was angry that he didn’t know what to do with it - that this had come when he hadn’t expected it, that he had had enough time to get over what had happened but wasn’t sure if it had been enough time that he was really ready to forgive. 

Then there was relief that Eddie had gone the route he did and just left him a note instead of coming to him in person. Eddie was right, he was afraid he would have jumped at the chance to sweep this all under the rug instead of figuring out how he felt. 

Eddie was right. 

Was he ready to forgive him?

He looked back down at how Eddie had written out his name, at what his name looked like written by Eddie’s hand, and another smile came up unbidden. 

Then, he glanced up at the time.

He quickly recovered the plate and slid it carefully into the fridge. Then, he folded up the note carefully and placed it back into the envelope, carried it back upstairs, and set it carefully down in his desk drawer, staring at it in unbelief and smiling a little wider before making himself close the drawer and keep moving.

He was still smiling, just a little, when Robin swung herself into his car.

“What are you so happy about?” She asked him, and he shook his head.

“Ah, nothing. Nothing. I just have a feeling today’s gonna be a good day.”

Classes went well. He was getting better at taking notes with a shorthand that he and Robin had started working on together, just cutting words so that they were shorter and adding a collection of symbols so that he wasn’t stuck trying to spell words or erase them and start over while the lecturer continued to drone on. He spent all three classes that day bent over his desk with his tongue stuck out in focus.

Robin’s Topic of the Day was all about how much Shakespeare had added to the English language, just for shits and giggles. Every chance she got, every break they took, every time they had to walk to a different lecture hall, and all the way to Family Video, she talked about what she had learned about it, all of the phrases she had discovered had been made up by W.S. way back when. Steve was happy to let her rattle it all off since these moods usually meant she just wanted a listening ear, and he could usually pretty safely let his mind wander.

And wander it did.

The dessert had seemed homemade. Had Eddie made it for him? He had to tamp down on a bubbly giggle when he thought about Eddie bumbling around in a kitchen, trying to precisely cut dough to make pieces and measuring out cinnamon and sugar. Had he really done all that… for Steve ?

And the note. The note, too. He caught himself thinking back on it, and was so shocked that he had been thinking about that for so long that he shook himself out of it and focused back on what Robin was saying.

No chance in Hell was he falling for a treat and some writing.

He and Robin worked a short, boring mid-shift at Family Video where they spent most of the time playing their own version of Pictionary on blank receipt paper, just drawing random things until the other person guessed what it was.

“It was supposed to be a hot air balloon!”

“A hot air balloon? How was I supposed to get a hot air balloon out of that? At best, it looks like a really fat tree.”

“Oh yeah? It was better than your airplane .”

“It is NOT my fault that the dimensions were off. I’ve never flown in an airplane before!”

“You decide what to draw! Why would you decide to draw something you’ve never actually seen!”

“Oh, shut up. It’s my turn, pony-boy. Hand over the pencil.”

Robin’s mom picked her up after their shift. He waved at them both on the way out and skipped over to his car, too.

He stopped and picked up a pizza on the way back to his house, and ran inside to stick it in the oven so it stayed hot. Then, he went up, threw off the clothes he’d worn all day and changed into sweats, threw his backpack into the corner next to his desk, and went back downstairs to lay on the couch and watch a little tv.

About half an hour later, there was another knock on his door. He was ready for it this time. He jumped up and darted over, pulling the door open wide.

Jonathan and Argyle stood on the other side with matching grins on their faces.

“ Heyyy !” He cheered, bouncing a little on his toes. “Come on in!” 

They did.

“Foot prisons on or off?” Argyle asked dopily, rocking back on his heels to demonstrate.

“Go ahead and take ‘em off, if that’s cool,” Steve answered. “Carpet cleaners are not cheap.” They kicked off their shoes in the entryway and meandered inside.

“Nice digs, brother!” Argyle told him, looking around briefly.

“Yeah, thanks. Make yourselves at home!” Steve told them. “I’ve got pizza, are you hungry?”

Jonathan groaned, rubbing his stomach. “ Yes,”  He answered. “Starving. Thanks!”

“Sure! Come on over, grab plates, and look through the fridge to grab whatever you want to drink.” Steve directed. “Did you all finish making your tapes?”

Jonathan and Argyle nodded eagerly. “You?” Jonathan asked.

Steve nodded, too. “Yeah! I’m pretty proud of this one.” 

“I gotta tell you, man, when Will was telling me about the tapes you keep in your car, I was pretty excited.” Jonathan confided in him. “Sounds like you got your hands on some good ones.”

“You have no fucking idea, I tried so hard to find the ones I did,” Steve answered. “Just wait, man.”

They all stood around the counter, popped open the pizza box, and ate standing around. No food in the den, after all. 

Argyle regaled them of a few of his pizza adventures, of the weirdest and grossest orders he’d ever taken (anchovies, buffalo chicken, mayo, and pickles made Steve feel like barfing for a minute). 

Steve told them about a time he had a customer who was convinced that Terminator was a documentary. 

Jonathan told them about one time when he was working at Melvald’s with his mom and would practice coming up with the most insane things he could purchase together; things like rope, vaseline, and mouthwash; or orange juice, Gorilla Glue, and mouse traps.

Steve only choked down one slice of pizza, and the other guys took care of the rest. They all grabbed drinks and scurried down to the den after putting up their trash.

When Will found out that Steve actually had a decent collection of music while scrounging around in the tape collection he kept in his car, Jonathan had been skeptical at first. But, in the spirit of giving Steve a chance, he decided to take him at his word. He needed to ease up on his own idea of “good taste”, anyway. Like, Argyle had the wackiest taste in music Jonathan had ever seen, but he’d managed to introduce him to some really good stuff.

They decided to each make a mixtape of their favorite songs, and then have a listening party.

Steve didn’t know why he was so nervous.

The sound system they kept in the den was impressive. Arielle had spent months researching the best brands and the best set-ups until they ended up with a stereo, large speakers for the tape player, a separate section for a turn table with a huge gramophone, and racks and racks of tapes and records. It took up the whole right wall of the den. 

There was a couch set in front of it all, and a coffee table in front of that which had a padded tray to house the sleeve of whatever record was currently playing, and a stack of coasters for drinks. 

Behind the couch, along the other wall, was a pool table that was covered in a brown protective tarp. Along that far wall on the other side of the pool table was a line of cabinets that held board games. 

Argyle whistled when he stepped down. Jonathan immediately started giggling incredulously, and they both flocked to different parts of the room. Steve laughed, happy that they were happy, and went to sprawl out on the sofa in front of the stereo.

“No fuckin’ way,” Jonathan said, sounding breathless. “The Kinks? The Temptations? Talking Heads? Joy Division? What the hell, man, Grateful Dead? I thought you said this was your mom’s collection!”

“It is,” Steve answered, rolling his eyes and grinning.

Jonathan shook his head in disbelief. 

“Your mom’s badass,” Argyle said, holding up a Sex Pistols tape and waggling his eyebrows.

Steve gagged. “Put that down, pervert,” He said. Argyle giggled but complied.

“I think…” Jonathan said dazedly, from where he had decided to plop down cross-legged on the floor. “I think I live here now.”

They all lay around the den and took turns playing their tapes. Steve pulled a hackysack from one of the board game cabinets and threw it up in the air and caught it, over and over, so that he could pay more attention to the music that was playing.

Argyle’s tape was first. Each tape only held 8 tracks, thankfully. Otherwise, Steve would have worried that he had accidentally signed up to listen to hours of Jamaican music. As it stood, there were only two tracks - Bangarang by Lester Sterling, and Take It Easy by Hopeton Lewis. Thankfully, Argyle was a pretty good sport about it, because Steve couldn’t help but laugh as Argyle waved his arms like he was surfing in slow motion. The rest had some Pink Floyd, Frank Marino, an Allmann Brothers song, which surprised Steve, and a Beatles song, which surprised Jonathan.

Steve was up next. Mostly as a joke, he started his out with Pat Benatar. Jonathan groaned just to make fun of him, but sat through it. He followed her up with Get Ready by Eric Clapton, though. From the same album that he’d… well. He redeemed himself further with Joan Jett & the Blackhearts, and The Rolling Stones, one of his favorite Simon & Garfunkel songs, and two by The Mamas & The Papas.

“Damn you for being… so you and then making a mix like this,” Jonathan muttered, scrubbing his hands over his face.

Steve kicked Jonathan’s shin lightly. “I’m just many-faceted. ”

Jonathan looked at him blandly. “Multi. Multi-faceted.” He corrected.

Steve blew a razz out him. “That means the same thing.” Steve protested.

Argyle, on the other side, patted Steve’s hair. “I knew what you meant.” Argyle offered consolingly.

“He’s my favorite now,” Steve said, pointing his thumb toward Argyle. Jonathan rolled his eyes and then got up to put his own mix in.

His mix was exactly what Steve had expected. A bunch of The Cure, The Police, Talking Heads. There was a Siouxsie and the Banshees song, one by a band called The Smiths that was pretty new. A lot of his were a little fuzzier because they’d obviously been recorded off the radio, catching the ends and beginnings of disc jockeys’ spiels about what was “ Up Next! ” but it was a quality that Steve actually kind of liked. 

When the last tape ended, they all sat in silence for a minute. 

“Those were really good,” Steve offered.

Argyle nodded, smiling contentedly. “Little bit of everything.” He answered happily. Steve agreed.

Jonathan glanced at the watch on his wrist. “Well, we’d better head out. Gotta pick up Will. I’m serious about coming back to take a crack at listening to this collection, though. Tell your mom I love her.”

“I’m not gonna do that, but come over any time, man. This was fun.” Steve answered lightly. He walked them out the door and locked it behind him, went back through the kitchen to make sure that everything was cleaned up, and opened the fridge to steal just a little piece off of the Monkey Bread waiting for him on the bottom shelf before heading up to bed.

Chapter Text

On Friday, Steve surprised El and Hop by knocking nervously on their door with a wrapped dessert in his hands. When Hopper opened the door, he held it out and smiled, but the smile looked mostly fake. She wasn’t sure what it meant, exactly.

“Sorry to bother,” He said cheerfully. “But E-” Hopper grunted, and Steve gave him a panicked look. “Eeeeh… someone made this Monkey Bread recipe and there’s no way I can eat it all. It’s really good, though, and El said she wanted to try it?” He looked up at Hopper, cringing a little. 

She had originally wanted to study what was happening between them because it seemed like a lot of unspoken communication which she wasn’t good at yet, but she quickly abandoned that for the prospect of trying this Monkey Bread .

“Yes, please!” She said, reaching out her hands. Steve handed it over happily, and Hopper gave him one of those squinty smiles he had and clapped Steve on the shoulder.

“That sounds great, thanks for bringing it by. Come on in, and we’ll eat it together. ” Hopper told him, pulling him inside and away from the door to close it. She shot him a questioning look, because he sounded like he had with her and Mike, but his face was smiling so that didn’t help. 

They all gathered up plates and forks and Steve dished out a serving for everyone (he was getting better at giving himself an equal size, she noticed) and they took them back to sit in the living room. He sat on the floor, scooted up to the coffee table, and El and Hopper sat on the couch.

She couldn’t wait to scoop up her first try and nibbled on the corner, just in case she didn’t like it. She didn’t want to make a scene and make Steve feel bad by spitting out a big bite.

She shouldn’t have worried though.

Monkey Bread was amazing . 

“Ugh,” She said, the same way she had seen Joyce do once. “This is so good. Did Eddie make it? Mike said he came over to ask Mrs. Wheeler how to.”

Hopper and Steve choked on their bites at the same time and started coughing hard.

“He asked Mrs. Wheeler ?” Steve asked her, at the same time that Hopper asked him, “ Munson made this?”

“Was that impolite to ask?” She said, confused. Sometimes, what was polite and what was impolite made no sense to her. It had seemed like a reasonable question, but they were both gulping down their milk in order to clear their throats so… 

“Munson made you a cake. And you brought it to us ?” Hopper asked, voice low like it was when he was threatening someone. He wouldn’t be threatening Steve, though, would he?

“It was… an apology cake? He said he heard someone talking about how it was my favorite…” Steve said, voice stringy and quiet. His face was red.

“An apology cake for making you cry,” El said when she figured it out. His face got redder. “That’s a good thing, isn’t it?”

Hopper rocked himself to his feet. “It’s going in the garbage.” He said decisively, starting to walk to the kitchen.

“What!” She asked, shocked. Steve protested a little, too. “No, it’s delicious! Why is the cake bad?”

Hopper turned to both of them incredulously. Sometimes, he didn’t like explaining things. He thought things should be obvious , even when they weren’t.

“You’re right, El. Munson made Steve cry .” Hopper said. Steve let out a weird squawk and hid his face in his hands. “And a cake isn’t going to be anywhere near good enough to make up for it.”

“It’s his favorite cake though.” El pointed out. “He’s a stupid boy, but he’s making up for it.” Hopper shook his fist at her in aggravation and then turned to Steve.

“Did he even apologize to you? Or did he just leave a cake on your doorstep and call it a day?”

“He did, in a note…” Steve mumbled. “It was nice…”

“A NOTE?” Hopper shouted, and his voice cracked. “I’m gonna kill him.” He started to the door like he was going to leave right then and Steve darted up.

“Oh, my god , Hop, you can’t do anything like that.” He said frantically, blocking the front door. “I haven’t even talked to him yet, there’s nothing - it’s literally just a ton of cake that I can’t eat myself before it goes bad. It’s just cake!”

“It’s not! It’s not just cake! He’s a weasel!” Hopper answered. “He made you something to make you think he’s all thoughtful,” He was using that baby voice he used sometimes, where he scrunched up his face into a fake smile to make a point, “so he can lull you into a false sense of security and forget what he did.”

“He isn’t a sleeper cell!” Steve shouted, voice cracking halfway through. “He’s just a dude! It doesn’t mean anything!” Hopper squinted his eyes at him, then raised a finger.

“You listen up.” He said. “He doesn’t say a word to you. I hear you two are…” He twiddled two fingers like they were legs walking away. “ Canoodling -”

“Canoodling?!” Steve shrieked.

“- I’m gonna find him and wring his neck. Got that?”

“I’m - you can’t - I’m not - I’m twenty years old , you can’t tell me who I can and can’t hang out with!”

“Is Eddie a bad person?” El asked finally. They both whipped their heads around to look at her.

“Yes.” Hopper growled the same time that Steve shouted, “No!” And then they turned back to each other and glared.

“He’s a ferret, Steve, I will abso- lutely not allow you to be near him. Whether he’s “ just a dude ” or otherwise.”

“NOT ALLOW?” Steve parrotted back. “You can’t NOT ALLOW me to do a single thing! That’s not how this works!”

“It works how I say it works.”

“When I said I wish you were my dad, this isn’t what I meant. I’m an adult. ”

Silence.

“Uh, I-I mean, not that…”

“Where’s my shotgun? I’m killing him right now.”

“ NO !”

The rest of the evening was much louder and more shouty than El had expected, but this was pretty typical as far as Steve-and-Hopper fights went, so she wasn’t worried. 

The next morning, she got up and asked Hopper to drive her to Max’s for a last-minute hangout. She wasn’t going to Max’s, though. She waited till Hopper drove away, and then marched over to Eddie’s trailer door instead and knocked sharply.

An old man with very little hair but kind eyes answered.

“Is Eddie here?” She asked.

“Uuuh,” The man answered.

“It’s important that I talk to him. It’s about Steve.” She told him. A knowing look passed over his face and he swung the door wider.

“He’s in his room, down the hall on the right. It’s always a warzone in there, just to warn you.”

“I’ve been in plenty of warzones, that’s fine.” She answered. He laughed and shook his head, and she passed him.

El knocked on the door that was supposed to be Eddie’s room, and waited a moment, then flared her power just a little when there was no response to unlock and push open the door. 

“Oh, fuck, Wayne, knock ,” Eddie said, hopping into a pair of flannel pajama pants with his bare back turned to her. “I was dressing myself. Impatient, much?”

“I’m not Wayne,” El said.

Eddie yelled and tripped, falling face forward onto his bed. He twisted clumsily around to face her.

“Uh… hi?” He said.

“Hello.” She answered.

“What’s, I mean… what’s up?”

“I’m here to find out whether you’re a good person.” She answered. He blinked at her, eyes wide. 

“How are you gonna do that?” He asked cautiously.

“I can see inside your mind.” She explained. “And what I see, generally, will tell me. It isn’t an exact science.”

He puffed his cheeks up like a squirrel and blew out a long line of air. “Well, shit… I dunno if I want to find out.”

“I don’t have to tell you if you don’t want to know.” She offered, which made him laugh.

“Good to know. And, uh… What brought this on exactly?” He asked.

“Steve and Hopper got into a fight about you last night.”

“What?” He sputtered.

“Hopper said you are not a good person.”

He grimaced. “Well, that’s not surprising.”

“But Steve said you are.”

He met her eyes, looking surprised again. “He did?” He asked softly. She nodded.

“I need to know for sure. Because Steve said he wanted Hopper to be his dad, which makes me his sister. You made him cry, so I need to see if I should let Hopper kill you or not.”

Eddie let out a strangled noise, looking pale. “Have at it,” He said faintly. So she did. She reached out her mind to find his, climbed inside, looked at the flashes and the colors and the memories, felt what his heart felt like.

After a few moments, she pulled back and nodded decisively.

“What’s the verdict?” He asked, sounding a little queasy.

“You told me not to tell you.” She said and walked out. Hopefully, Max would be home, so she didn’t have to wait outside for Hopper to pick her up.

/

It was pretty late. Max stared at the ceiling. Even when she had lived in that house on Cherry, and even when the door to her room was closed and she was sure that she was the only one awake, she had never felt alone. She had never felt like a space that she had was really hers . 

She dreamed about it sometimes: about having a huge house in the middle of nowhere that was just her own. She’d make it a little farm with a garden so she never had to go to the grocery store and could chase people away with pitchforks and a shotgun.

A whip-poor-will started singing outside, and she didn’t feel tired at all. She sighed and slung herself up out of bed, slipping out of the trailer around her mother who was asleep on her stomach on the couch. She thought maybe she would go down to the creek along the edge of the park for a while.

There was a figure sitting on top of the picnic table along the way, which she staunchly ignored.

“Too much glass on the ground to be walking about barefoot.” A voice came from the figure to tell her. She whipped her head over her shoulder to glare.

“What do you even care?” She snapped.

“You gotta go around asking people why they care whether you keep your feet or not?” Came the response, but it sounded more worn out than sarcastic like she expected. “What’re you doing up anyway?”

“Mind your own business.” She answered and started walking on, just to step directly on a sharp piece of gravel and wince. She continued stubbornly past him as he chuckled humorlessly.

“Whatever, Red. Go do your thing.” Eddie breathed a shaky breath that made her pause and look over at him again. She was closer this time, could make out his drawn features. His knee was bouncing erratically and he was shaking out his hands, looking nervous and flighty and haunted.

She walked over to him and crossed her arms.

“What’re you doing up?” She asked him. He clasped his hands together, probably trying to hide the fact that they were shaking, and then he shrugged.

“Can’t sleep.” He said simply. “Same as you, right?” She turned away from him to lean against the picnic table and nodded. “Nightmares?” He asked.

She shrugged. “Haven’t slept enough to get nightmares.” She said gruffly. “Just can’t sleep. Is that why you’re out here? Nightmares?” She asked.

His head rocked side to side, like he was trying to figure out what to say. Too chicken shit to admit he got nightmares too? She looked out at the dark tree line that he was watching too. The night sky was a barely discernible deep blue above it, and it was too cloudy for any stars. 

“Not this time.” He said finally. He reached down between his legs and started pulling splinters off of the table. “I, uh… I stopped drinking, after what you said. Stopped all of it.” He waved his hand dismissively. Her eyes widened and she tried to not react any other way. He had just - stopped? After she told him to? No one had ever done that before…

“Yeah?” She asked, neutral.

“Yeah.” He answered honestly. “I figured it was time, anyway. That stuff… I don’t think it’s evil or anything, but it’s a lot of power to, heh, to give to people who aren’t doing the best. But, I was also doing… a lot… of it… And dependence is a real ass-kicker. So anyway,” He held out his hand and showed her how it was trembling, before drawing it back to himself and digging one thumb between the index finger and thumb of his other hand. “That’s why I’m out here tonight. I just really wanna smoke.” He laughed again.

Max watched him carefully. Watching the people she knew - a lot of the people she knew - abuse whatever they wanted had always made her angry and helpless. It always seemed like she was talking to them through a glass box, and they could never really hear her. They were always just pretending.

Had Eddie heard her?  

He cleared his throat again. “You, uhh… I mean, has anyone… You heard from Steve? Know how he’s doing?” 

“After whatever you did to fuck everything up?” She asked back, spiky and protective. That was the way she always felt about that bumbling idiot, ever since he’d gotten his… well, his whole body beat in by Billy to try and protect her. 

“Yeah, after I fucked everything up,” Eddie answered evenly. She furrowed her brow.

“El said he’s doing better. They’re, like, best friends now that Hop started making him go over for dinner.” She said, surprising herself at the bitter, acidic tinge to her words.

“Jealous?” He asked. She didn’t deign that with a response, which any normal person would have taken as a hint to drop it. “I get it.” Eddie shouldered on. “You work so hard to not rely on people that you forget how to open up, and then when you see other people… you know, being open and free and getting love and all that shit…” He petered off.

“You want to break glass?” Max finished for him. 

“Yeah, you want to punch a mirror or something. Yeah.” 

She nodded. “My stepbrother… was complicated. I feel a lot of ways about him. He sucked. But…” She said. “I don’t want another one.”

Eddie was quiet for a while. “I sort of knew him for a little while. You’re right, he pretty much sucked.” She turned immediately and socked him on the shoulder. “Ow!” He laughed. “I wasn’t finished! Jesus! I was going to say that I sucked, too. And Steve sucked. And Nancy sucked. And Jonathan sucked. And all you little hooligans suck. We all suck till we figure ourselves out. And then sometimes we suck a little longer.”

“Have you ever thought about going into children’s fiction? You’d be a whiz.” Max deadpanned.

“See? You actively suck.” Eddie sniped. She snorted. They both looked at the sky for a while. “Billy reminded me of this medieval folk tale, about this rooster named Chauntecleer. He, like, ran the barnyard. He thought his crowing made the sunrise. The whole nine, right? The whole story is about how he and a fox try to use each other’s pride, the fox to eat the rooster, the rooster to get away -”

“ God , you’re insufferable.” Max cut him off. “I get it, you’re a nerd, and Billy was the worst and - and - strutted around and shit. Those are two things I already knew.”

Eddie looked at her, mouth hanging open. “You’re such a little shit,” Eddie shot back. “Twice now, you’ve interrupted me. See what happens the next time.” Max rolled her eyes. “ Listen, dipweed. There’s a later version of the story where the rooster finds out that the barnyard is fine without him, and the sun rises without him telling it to, and the world turns, so he gets really depressed and shit. And then he meets a forest bird or something who tells him that it shouldn’t matter, that he should sing anyway and that the important thing is that the things he was doing still gave something , and made him happy, so he should keep doing it all. And that’s how it feels when I think about a guy like Billy. He was doing all this strutting around because he felt like he had to when I wish he could have gotten the chance to let go and do stuff because he wanted to. Everyone deserves that.” 

Max was silent. Her eyes burned.

“Holy fuck , I don’t know how Steve and them put up with you brats. You try to say something nice and… and… fuck if I know, uplifting , or whatever, and all you get back is ungrateful sass -” She cut him off by diving in and hugging him around the waist, squeezing him tight. “Woah -” He said, and she growled. 

“Don’t say a single goddamn word.” She hissed. He chuckled and let his arms fall around her, too

“We’re kind of two of a feather, huh?”

“Do you ever fucking listen?”

Chapter Text

Saturday morning, Lucas didn’t let himself sleep in too late. He got up around 9, had breakfast, and pulled a sweatshirt over his pajamas. He grabbed a basketball from the garage and dribbled it between both hands as he waited for the garage door to pull itself open, letting in a swoop of cool, dewy September air. It felt nice on his skin, woke him up a little more, and cleared his groggy head. 

He ducked under when the garage door was just under his shoulders and jogged out to the basketball hoop his dad had put up for him along the side of the driveway, held steady by a big bag of sand, already running through a list of the things that he needed to practice. 

When he looked up and saw the car (and person) parked in his driveway instead, he fumbled and had to lunge to catch the basketball, hugging it to his side and glowering.

Eddie Munson, just climbing out of his van and closing the door, was looking at him awkwardly and giving him a sheepish grin, accompanied by a wimpy little wave.

“Can you move your van?” Lucas asked, even though he really didn’t think he needed to. “I’m trying to practice.”

Eddie looked from the ball in Lucas’s hand to the basketball hoop, to where his van was parked almost under it. “Oh, yeah, sure!” He scrambled back in and fired up his van, which was stupid loud. He backed up to line the end of the van up with the end of the driveway, then stuck his head out of the window. “Is that good?” He yelled.

Lucas rolled his eyes. “Yeah, whatever.” He said. 

There was a pause. “Was that uuuh “yeah whatever, it’s fine”? Or a “yeah whatever try again”?”

Lucas ignored him and started dribbling the ball again, pacing back and forth in front of the hoop and then breaking into a jog before hitting a lay-up. Clapping started up behind him, and he snorted angrily. 

“Do you want something, man?” He turned on Eddie sharply. Eddie put his hands in the air placatingly, inching his way away from the van and closer. 

“I’m here to chop some wood for your dad? But I did want to… I did wonder if… look, can we talk?”

“Oh, you want to start talking now? What have we been doing this whole time?” Lucas snarked. He knew he was being a dick. He wondered if he should feel back when he watched Eddie smile self-deprecatingly at the ground and scuff his dirty sneaker on the concrete.

Eddie had kept to himself since everything had gone down, except for the work he was doing. Lucas knew that in passing. He’d been avoiding Jeff and Gareth, too, from what Lucas had gathered.

If dating Max had taught him anything, it was exactly how it felt to be stuck in that limbo where someone’s mad at you and you don’t know how to fix it. 

So sue him for being conflicted. He just didn’t know what to do here. Eddie had been a dick to him long before the Steve situation, and he still felt frustration blowing up in his chest like a static-y balloon when he thought about it. Eddie had just always been there, driving a wedge between Lucas and his friends. He still didn’t exactly want the guy to suffer, forever and ever, Amen , though. He had watched Eddie a lot when he would come over and push the lawn mower up and down in steady lines, or rake the leaves into big bags to toss into his van and take away. He had watched Eddie sweat and get sunburned and swat at flies and just… keep coming back. That didn’t seem like the same guy who had made jokes about Steve to his buddies and made Steve so sad, who had made it seem like Lucas had to choose between playing a dumb make-believe game or playing basketball like he was weighing his eternal soul.

Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to hear him out. He sighed, then dropped the basketball to balance between his feet so he could cross his arms. 

“What?” He said. Eddie blew out a heavy breath.

“You’d think these get easier with practice, man. Woof.” He mumbled, running his thumbs over his bare fingers like he normally would to mess with his rings. “Listen, Lucas. I’m sorry. For everything. I was never fair to you. Everything that went on… It was all trivial high school bullshit. And I definitely should have seen through that. I was way out of line with all of it. So I’m sorry.”

Lucas ran his tongue along his teeth in consternation. “Did you tell Steve?” He asked, avoiding the apology.

The look on Eddie’s face went from uncomfortable to really, deeply sad, and he scrubbed his face with his hand. “Yeah, a couple times. I apologized a couple times. They didn’t go… I’m really bad at this.” He said.

Lucas understood that feeling. Understood trying to make things better and digging himself further into the hole he was already in. 

“But just to be clear,” Eddie pushed on. “I am apologizing to you for what you saw happened between me and Steve, but I’m also apologizing for the shit I pulled with you and Hellfire. You shouldn’t have had to choose. My painfully bloated ego and I should have seen ourselves out a long time ago.”

He wondered if Eddie had been cut off from everyone - the Party, Eddie’s friends, Steve, Robin - or if he had cut himself off as a punishment for what he’d done. He thought about all the times he and his friends had made the rounds, making mistakes and hurting each other and then coming back together. Maybe Eddie didn’t deserve it. Probably none of them did. But… he needed it. And he was trying. That had to count for something.

Lucas nodded. “Ok.” He said. “Apology accepted. If you try it again, I know a guy with a bat who swings for cheap, though.”

Eddie laughed a little, sounding relieved. “Thanks, man. That, uh…” He cleared his throat. “That means a lot.” He looked a little misty-eyed, Lucas noticed sympathetically. 

“I guess I kind of owe you, anyway. You’ve gotten me out of a shit ton of chores, so dad could ‘ help a young man better himself .’” He pitched his voice really deep in imitation of his dad’s voice, and Eddie laughed again, this time sounding much more like himself. Lucas returned his smile.

“Hey listen, I also wanted to ask… This might be stupid, but… You got any workout tips for keeping up this physique through the winter? My approach was very trial by fire this summer, and I’d like to avoid that if I’m still pushing a mower next year.” He said. 

“Oh-ho-ho, hunting for favors already?” Lucas teased.

“No, man! I could pay you - you could be my trainer. You might be the lousiest paid trainer in the biz, but…” Eddie protested earnestly. Lucas waved him off.

“I don’t want your nickels and dimes,” He grinned. “We should probably work on your noodle arms anyway.”

Eddie looked a little offended this time. “God, why the fuck does everybody keep saying that?” He asked, and Lucas laughed.

However shit worked out with their weird, splintered friend group, he had a feeling things were going to be ok.

/

Mike stumbled into through the garage, slinging his backpack over his shoulder and preparing for a quick escape. The last thing he wanted to do was talk to his mom about what a shitshow his Monday had been. He had crumpled up two tests that had been graded and given back and shoved them in the bottom of his bag. He planned to say he ‘lost’ them, if she asked. 

He hadn’t expected to find Eddie Munson sitting at his kitchen table instead. But there he was, sitting with his feet resting on another chair, bargaining with Holly to make her eat the last of the green beans on her plate.

“What the fuck?” He asked.

“Woah, woah, woah, watch it, dude. Your kid sister’s sitting right fu-” Eddie shot, then bit his tongue. “I mean, right freaking there. Watch the language.”

He stared at him. He wasn’t sure what staring was going to do: catch a glamour? Make him uncomfortable?

“What are you doing here?” Mike asked.

“Erm - heh, babysitting?” He answered. No, if that was the answer, Mike changed his mind. He didn’t want one.

“What the fuck?” He repeated.

“Dude, seriously!” Eddie exclaimed, sitting up in his seat. “Your dad was on the fence enough about me watching her while they went out: don’t teach her to say sh- ugh, stuff while I’m here.”

“Why did he agree to it?” Mike asked.

“I’m cheap and he’s cheap and you weren’t here.” Eddie shrugged. “It worked.”

“Fuck?” Holly repeated, trying it out.

Eddie groaned and fell back, rubbing his face. He seemed to regroup after a second and leaned back toward her. “Yeah. That’s a bad word that your brother said. Ok? You’ll get in trouble if you use that word, so forget about it.”

“Fuck,” Holly said again, giggling.

“Uuugh. How about this, huh? If you promise me that you won’t say that word, I’ll eat the rest of your green beans, and you won’t have to eat another green bean whenever I’m here.”

Holly looked intrigued. Then, she stuck out her hand, and Eddie took it and shook.

“How many deals have you made with my sister?” Mike asked, pointing accusingly at their hands.

“Not that many,” Eddie answered dismissively and then tried to give him a grin. 

“God, whatever. I’m going upstairs.” He stormed past them.

“There’s leftovers in the fridge if you’re hungry!” Eddie called after him.

“ What -” He started saying.

“DON’T SAY IT,” Eddie shouted to drown him out. 

He locked himself in his room with more drive than he had had before he’d learned that Eddie Crocker was downstairs in his kitchen, being horrifically embarrassing and bizarre and watching his little sister. He sat in his room, stomach growling, listening for signs that his parents had returned and Eddie had left, but none came.

After a while, there was a knock on the door. “I brought your food up so you don’t have to come down,” Eddie said.

Mike lost it and stormed over to the door to swing it open. “Why are you doing this?” He snapped. “Hellfire isn’t getting back together: you aren’t going to trick me into it by… by babysitting my sister and bringing me food and cooking with my mom or whatever. Which is really fucking weird, by the way .”

Eddie stood there holding a plate of food that had been slopped together and microwaved, with a fork held straight up in his other hand like the world’s wimpiest staff.

“You think I don’t know that?” Eddie asked. “Take the damn food.”

“Now swear words are ok?”

“Your sister’s watching The Last Unicorn. She can’t hear us. Listen, man. I know what I did was fucked up. And I’m sorry. But I’m genuinely trying to be better, and I have limited options to make that happen around here. So sometimes, shit like this is gonna happen, and it’s gonna be weird. Just… Can you just ride it out?” 

“Why?” Mike asked flatly.

Eddie looked at him, obviously sizing him up, and Mike felt his shoulders straightening. “Honestly?” He asked.

Mike rolled his eyes. “Duh?”

“Alright, alright, ease up. Honestly… for Steve. For me, too. Because I have no reason to expect Steve to forgive me. But, it’s really for him.”

“All of this shit that you’re doing is for him,” Mike repeated. He honestly expected Eddie to change his tune, but instead, he nodded resolutely.

“He didn’t deserve what I did to him. I… he’s a really good guy. And I don’t know how to make it up to him, so I thought… being, doing better was as good a place to start as any.”

Mike looked at him, mind turning. He’d sort of seen this before. With Nancy, he called it The Hair Effect. Somehow, Steve had this uncanny ability to snake and wiggle his way in with people. He hadn’t gotten it at first, but now…

“Do you like him?” He asked bluntly.

Eddie fumbled the plate with his dinner, and he rolled his eyes and took it and the fork from him, putting it down safely on his desk. Then he returned to his doorway and crossed his arms. 

“Well?”

Eddie had shoved his hands deep into his pockets, shoulders hiked up and grimacing, a little red-faced.

“Listen, man, you don’t really get it… it’s complicated…” He said, eyes trailing off into Mike’s room.

“Do. You. Like. Him?” He repeated.

Eddie tossed his head back and groaned. “Yeah. I think I do.”

“Dumbass,” Mike said, shaking his head.

“Excuse you?” He asked. 

“Only you could fuck something up so bad you had to start multiple side businesses to make up for it.” He grinned.

“Oh, what- ever .” Eddie griped. 

“Don’t ‘Oh, whatever’ me. If you want to fix this, you’re going to need our help to do it.” He grinned.

Eddie looked sad all of a sudden and shook his head. “Nah, not… there’s too much to fix, man. Shit you don’t know about that I did. I can’t try any of that shit with him anymore. At least not for a long time.”

Mike shrugged. “If you say so.” They fell silent, and Mike thought it out. “You know, I never used to like Steve. I mean, he was just my stupid big sister’s boyfriend: what was there to like? He’d come in and try to talk to us and whatever. I used to think it was to try and get brownie points with her. I still kind of think that was part of it, but now… Now I dunno. I think he was also just really trying to be friendly. It kind of sucks that a guy that genuine and… simple can exist, you know?”

Eddie sputtered a laugh and nodded. Mike kept going.

“He’s the only one of us who didn’t have a stake in the whole Upside Down thing. But… he stuck around, stuck with us, because he thought it was the right thing to do. I don’t… He’s a really good guy for that.”

“I know.” Eddie sighed. “I know. And I was just dumb and blind and not thinking when I started playing that stupid prank. I’m sorry.”

“That’s not what I meant.” Mike shook his head. “I mean, it’s true. But what I meant was… I get it. I get what you see in him. So… I don’t know how, but I hope things work out.” Eddie looked surprised and then smiled. Mike didn’t think he was reading into it when he said he thought it looked hopeful. 

Chapter Text

Robin had been on Steve’s ass about taking a break for a while now, and he was also beginning to wish that he wasn’t so stubborn. 

He just couldn’t help it. 

At first, he hadn’t seen what the big deal was: college was going to be tough. College was supposed to be tough. He kept telling himself this as he picked up extra shifts to cover the cost of new books, stayed up later and later to finish homework, and tried not to miss out on time with the kids, set aside time to call his mom, ran every morning, and even thought about how he might pick up track or swimming at the school. 

Momentum helped him keep going at first. He wanted to push himself, distract himself, and feel like he was accomplishing his goals. As long as he kept moving, everything was fine. He could be good at this whole college thing: he just had to try a little harder.

Robin’s situation was just different: not bad and not better either, just not the same. She didn’t get it. 

He was starting to get a little annoyed at her for not seeing that their situations were different. “All I’m saying is that you’re going to make yourself sick if you keep going like this. Burn out makes things harder . You’ve gotta be easier on yourself, Steve.” She said. He’d rolled his eyes and dismissed her. 

Jonathan had noticed it too. “You’re working a shit ton, man, are you sure you’re all good with everything?” He’d asked. Steve had waved him off.

Even Hopper had said stuff like that in passing. “Looking a little tired there, bud. Homework kickin’ your ass?” Like they were all in this big ring where all they did was gossip about him and how he wasn’t doing what they wanted.

He felt a little like the kid from Christmas Story: “You’ll shoot your eye out,” “You’ll shoot your eye out,” “You’ll shoot your eye out.” Except he wasn’t going to shoot his eye out. Pushing yourself was how you got stronger. Plenty of people did the work-school-life thing: why shouldn’t he? Did they think he wasn’t strong enough? Or smart enough?

This was part of the reason why he started ignoring the first symptoms of a cold as they appeared. It felt like admitting that they were right. It felt like shooting his eye out. He wrote it off as allergies when anyone asked, and pushed through. Even if it was a cold, he’d get over it. It was so close to finals week, and then he could take a break and let his body get as sick as it wanted. He let himself sleep in a few mornings, switching out his morning jog for an evening one. And his life wasn’t go-go-go all the time, anyway. He did things for himself. In your face, Robin.

For instance:

Steve had taken to studying at the Hawkins Public Library some evenings. 

He never would have been caught dead in this place in high school, and still kind of felt like a poser whenever he went in. He had only started going out of desperation to find a quiet place to study where he wasn’t bugging the Buckleys and eating all their food and stopping to talk to Mrs. Buckley every time she poked her head around Robin’s door to smile at them; or at home, listening for every sound his dad made - was that footstep too heavy? Did he swing that cabinet door closed in an angry way?

Now, a few weeks in, he really liked the library. Not that he would tell anyone that. Robin knew he came here sometimes, but no one else did. Steve was pretty sure Dustin would straight up laugh in his face if he knew, the little butthead. But he did, he really liked it. It was… cozy .

The entryways to the children’s and teen sections were always cheerily decorated with bright paper streamers and words cut out of cardstock. 

There were fun Featured Reading! displays on the front tables. 

He was starting to learn the names and faces of the staff working evenings, and while they didn’t do much but smile and wave when he walked in, he thought that proved they recognized him, too. 

By now, he didn’t have to worry too much about running into anyone he knew, either.

Or… maybe he was wrong about that last one.

He usually took a table in a far corner, past the Adult Biographies section, but his regular spots were all taken that evening. Sort of made sense: it was a Monday. Lot of kids in school needing to study. So he was at a table next to the Magazines wall studying for a World History quiz.

He had also been feeling gross and snuffly, cold-that-definitely-wasn’t-a-cold coming in strong as it started getting chillier outside, so his spread included a travel pack of tissues and a growing pile of used ones. His head felt stuffed full and he had to stare at his notes with extra concentration, trying to shove the numbers along a timeline into his brain.

As hard as he tried to ignore any distractions, there was growing noise from an aisle over that he found himself listening in on.

Sharp murmurs. Titters, a snort, shuffling, mumbled protests. Unfortunately, something he’d never learned to do was mind his business.

Miserably, a voice spoke up a little louder. “Rebecca, I’m just trying to check out a book. Would you please move?” 

Steve knew that voice. He got up out of his seat and walked around the stacks to find Gareth uncomfortably backed up against a shelf, clutching a book in front of him with both arms. A short girl stood very close in front of him, practically smirking up his nose. Another girl, a redhead, was on his left side, and a stocky boy on his right.

“Aw,” The redhead cooed. “You’re totally right, he has no idea how to talk to girls. You a virgin, Gary?”

Gareth’s cheeks were flushed, and he gritted his teeth so hard his jaw jumped.

“Don’t have to be nervous. I just want to catch up,” The short girl, Rebecca, said while twirling her hair.

“Gareth, there you are,” Steve said, cutting in. “I thought you’d ditched me for a while there. I grabbed us a table.”

Gareth jumped, and his eyes shot over to his. The other three were startled, too.

“ Steve?” The guy said. Steve thought he looked familiar, maybe, but didn’t bother placing him.

“Hey guys, sorry to interrupt. Gareth’s my study partner and my time’s kinda limited. Come on, man.” He said pointedly. Gareth shot into action, and no one tried to stop him as he shouldered through.

“Study partner?” Rebecca snorted. “Steve, Gareth dropped out last year. He doesn’t have anything to study.” Gareth grimaced, face burning.

“No, no,” Steve corrected smoothly. “He’s helping me study.” He gave a semi-fake self-deprecating laugh.

Rebecca spluttered, grasping at straws. “But he said he was only here to check out a book!” Steve couldn’t keep from rolling his eyes. Could this chick really just not take a hint? Jee- zus.

He crossed his arms. “It was an excuse to get out of talking to you.” He explained condescendingly, adding a little gross-sweet venom to his smile and wrinkling up his nose. “Bye, now!” He threw an arm over Gareth’s shoulders and led him back to his table, letting go when they were safely out of sight.

Gareth sighed, his shoulders hiked up a little. “Hey, thanks for that.” He said, embarrassed.

“Don’t mention it,” Steve answered, sitting back down and taking up a new tissue to blow his nose hard. Nothing ruined a bitch-off more than a sniffle. “They seemed like real dicks. Want to sit down and make sure they’re gone?”

“Oh, I don’t want to…” He immediately slid into a seat across from Steve when the three pieces of work who’d cornered him came out from between the shelves and glared daggers as they left. Steve gave them a cute tight-lipped smile, scrunching up his eyes and wiggling his fingers at them as they walked. Gareth snorted at it.

Steve watched over Gareth’s shoulder till he confirmed that they’d gone, and rolled his eyes again.

“There isn’t any safe space anymore.” He said. “Dicks being dicks in libraries? What’s next?”

“They’ll be breaking into my dining room next.” Gareth joked hesitantly, a half-smile tugging at his lips. Steve let out an embarrassing little giggle (sue him, that was funny ) and Gareth’s smile widened to a full, real one.

“What’re you reading?” Steve asked, motioning to the massive blue hardback Gareth was holding. “That looks about as big as I expect most nerd books to be.” He said it, and then cringed a little, remembering the last time he’d made a passing nerd joke at him, in the video store, and how icy and awkward Gareth had turned.

This time, Gareth gave a good-natured, wicked little grin and said, “I’ll show you how big my nerd book is.” Steve tried to stifle his laugh.

“ Pfft ,” He snorted and giggled again, then clapped a hand over his mouth. “Whatever, dude.” He said. 

“For real, though,” Gareth huffed a laugh and turned the book around so Steve could read the cover. ‘Chilton’s Auto Repair Manual’. “It’s for… well, Rebecca was right, I dropped out last year. My uncle’s teaching me how to be a mechanic.”

“That’s awesome!” Steve said. “God, I’d give pretty much anything to know what the fuck I’m doing with my life.” Gareth seemed to relax a little further.

“What’re, um, what’re you studying?” He asked.

“Uuugh,” Steve scrubbed his eyes, which had started to burn, trying to reach inside and scrub the part of his brain that was giving him a sick headache. “This is for a History class I’m taking. We have a quiz on this huge chunk of the timeline. Dates get so screwy in my head I might as well give up now.” He sniffed and grabbed a tissue out of the little package, trying to discretely blow his nose again.

“You, uh, no offense but… you look a little rough, anyway. Maybe you should go home and get some rest, play hooky from the quiz.”

Steve chuckled, running a hand through his hair and leaning back. “Yeaaaah, that sounds tempting. I’ve ignored it for like a week so far, though. Hoping that ignoring it for a little longer will make it go away.” He said. He didn’t talk about how nervous he was to let his grades slip, since his high school grades had sucked so much. He didn’t talk about how it was hard to take personal days even as he felt like he was running himself ragged, between keeping up with the kids, working as much as he could, and school. His head hurt.

“Well, I can leave you alone now, sorry… thanks again, for back there.” He said, scooting his chair back and grabbing his book.

“Don’t gotta be sorry, man.” Steve tried to reassure him. “Good catchin’ up.”

Gareth walked two steps, then looked back, stuttering between moves.

“Uh, hey, this is… I really shouldn’t be asking you this, and you can totally just tell me to fuck off, but… uhm, have you heard from Eddie?”

Before he could help it, Steve cringed. Gareth immediately began backtracking. “No, you’re right, I’m sorry. That was a dick move, forget I asked. Definitely not your problem.”

“It’s ok,” Steve said. “It’s not…” It’s not that he just couldn’t bear to hear Eddie’s name or something, he just didn’t know how much Eddie had told his friends, how much Gareth knew . “It’s not a big deal. Um, no, I haven’t actually seen him around. How come?”

“I haven’t really seen him either. Since - everything. Not that he’s disappeared, it just feels like he’s been avoiding… us. Jeff and I. And the rest of the band, and Hellfire. It sounds really dramatic, now I say it out loud. I’m sure it’s nothing.”

“That sounds rough - I’m sorry things sound weird with you guys.” Steve offered earnestly. “That does sound weird. Hope everything works out.”

Gareth nodded, said goodbye, and scurried away. 

Steve spent the rest of the time at the table chewing thoughtfully on the end of his pencil. It really didn’t seem like Eddie to sequester himself off like that. He could worry about him and not care about him at the same time, right?

Steve started packing up to go home after he sneezed for the fourth time, and got a concerned side eye from Cameron, the teen librarian. He’d figure out what worry-to-forgetting-about-Eddie ratio was an acceptable ratio when he stopped feeling his blood pounding in his skull.

He went straight home, threw his backpack onto his desk chair, and took a hot shower even though the water pressure stung his sensitive, prickly skin. He threw on an old track sweatshirt and a pair of sweatpants that had always been too big and way too long on him, pant legs flapping at the bottom and catching under his heels. 

He shuffled to the kitchen and looked through the pantry and medicine cabinet, but couldn’t find the cold medicine he thought he had. Petulant, he kicked the pantry door and got himself a scoop of peanut butter for dinner, took a sip of water even though it hurt going down his sandpaper throat, and returned to his room. 

He pulled his history timeline back out and crawled into bed with it, gathering up his blankets tight around him and stuffing pillows up behind his back and around him for support, before trying to go back over it a few times.

He fell asleep with it in his hands not ten minutes later.

Steve awoke slowly, gunk crusting over his eyes. His throat was raw and there was a line of drool down his chin that he wiped away disgustedly from having been sleeping with his mouth open. The drool had soaked his timeline page, which he had apparently slept right on top of. He couldn’t breathe through his nose. God, his head was pounding . 

The sun was bright outside his window and he glanced frantically at his clock.

“What the fuck?” He tried to say, but it came out as a wheeze. It was 2 PM. He had slept through all of his classes, and the beginning of his shift. The phone was ringing: that must have been what had woken him.

He tried to jolt up to answer it but moved too quickly and his head spun, making him lay back for another moment. The phone stopped ringing. Then it started again just a beat later. Probably Keith, then. He got up again, this time more carefully, and hobbled over to the phone on the corner of his desk, every joint and muscle aching in a way that made grumpy tears prick his eyes.

Grabbing the phone, he tried clearing his throat even though that made it light up with pain, and then said, “H-h’llo?”

“Oh, Christ, Harrington.” Keith’s nasally whine came through. “You sound like shit. Guess this counts as you calling out?”

Steve rubbed one of his eyes. “Yeah, m’sorry, I just woke up. Didn’t mean… didn’t mean to.” He sniffed wetly. He wasn’t sure he was making sense, but then again, Keith never really listened to him anyway.

“Eck, stay away till you stop snotting everywhere. I’ll see what kind of sick time you have, but don’t expect much.” Keith warned and then hung up. Steve glared at the phone and hung up himself. While he was up and ceding defeat, he quickly dialed Hopper’s home line.

El picked up. “Hopper residence.” She said.

“Hey, El, it’s…” He cleared his throat. “It’s Steve. Can you tell Hop I can’t make it tonight?” 

“What’s the matter, Steve? You sound… bad.” She asked.

“I’m ok, it’s no big deal. Just a little sick, and don’t want you all to catch it. I’ll see you Friday, for game night, ok?”

“Oka-a-ay,” El drawled, sounding unsure.

“Bye, El,” Steve said and put the phone back down. Then he went to the bathroom and crawled pathetically into bed, covering himself up with his covers and shivering slightly, squeezing his eyes tight and willing himself to fall back to sleep.

Chapter Text

Eddie had spent most of his free Tuesday afternoon staring balefully across the room at his guitar. When the phone rang in the kitchen, he jumped at it as a welcome distraction.

“Yello,” He greeted cheerfully.

“Hey, Eddie, it’s Jonathan.” A voice came through. “I’ve got a weird favor to ask you.”

Eddie was… stunned. On the list of people he’d expected never to talk to again, Jonathan was pretty high up there.

“Uh, shoot, man. I got nothing going on.”

“Perfect,” Jonathan sighed, sounding relieved. “Listen, Mom just asked if I could make a grocery run for Steve since apparently, he’s pretty sick. But I just remembered I picked up a second shift at this new gig I just got. Would you mind running over to the store and getting some cold meds and maybe some soup and crackers to drop off at his door?”

His stomach dropped. “O-oh, I don’t…” 

“We’ll totally pay you back for what you buy. Mom and Hopper are both working till after the store closes, and Rob’s out of town for a funeral. I know you and Steve aren’t super close, but you’ve hung out some, right? Like I picked up his car that one time he got blasted at yours or something, didn’t he? God, he’s such a lightweight it’s embarrassing.” Jonathan chuckled. This was definitely the most Eddie had ever heard the other guy speak, and of course it was just his luck that it was all making his stomach turn with anxiety.

“I mean… what about his dad?” Eddie tried weakly, trying to get out of it without telling Jonathan that Steve for sure didn’t want anything from him, since it seemed Steve hadn’t told him about what had happened the night he was over. Eddie felt a little sick, himself.

Jonathan pretended to gag over the phone. “That sack of shit?” He asked. “He wouldn’t do anything for Steve with a gun to his head. Plus, Steve would never ask, and he’s never home. Look, I know it’s a big ask, but El said he sounded really sick on the phone. Like, he’s got her really worried kind of sick. Would you mind?”

Painfully, Eddie sighed, feeling himself give in. “Yeah, yeah, I can do it.”

“Awesome. He keeps a spare key to the back door along the bottom of the grill. Could you just put whatever you get on the counter and call up to let him know it’s there? I owe you one, man. Hopefully this’ll teach him not to literally run himself into the ground. You can tell him I told him so, too. Bye,” Jonathan hung up.

Eddie screwed his eyes shut and slammed the phone down onto the receiver and groaned.

“What the fuck, Munson? Now what?” He said to himself. “God, you idiot. Why couldn’t Argyle? Or Karen? Why me? ” He sucked in a huge lungful of air and blew out. “No, ok. It’s ok, You got this. You’re just gonna keep him from dying by dropping a couple bags in his kitchen and scramming. Skedaddling. You can scram. You scram with the best of them. He won’t even know you’re there. You can pretend to be Jonathan and complain about the Smiths and tell him to eat something and leave.”

He kept up his pep talk, wimpy as it was, while he shoved bare feet into sneakers, grabbed his keys, and left.

He found himself at Hyvee with a basket full of brand-name cold and flu medicine that he would never buy himself, little oyster crackers, a loaf of bread, and 2liter of Sprite, standing in front of the soup selection trying to choose between classic Chicken Noodle, Hearty Chicken and Rice, or Tomato Basil. He bit back a groan, mentally kissed his money good bye, and took all three. Then he panic grabbed two different flavors of cough drops that were on an end cap display, and Soothing Lemon Ginger Tea (a favorite that Mrs. Wheeler had introduced him to). He grabbed one of those little bear squeeze bottles of honey, too. 

While standing in line, he wondered if he should buy ice cream, too. What if Steve liked cold stuff when his throat hurt, not hot stuff? He worried over it so much that he left the line to grab a mini carton of vanilla, too. Just in case.

He was never getting paid back for this shit: he would eat the receipt and die before he showed Jonathan or Mrs. Byers or the fucking Chief of Police the full list of things he’d bought.

He drove to Steve’s in record time, nervously banging his fist against his forehead. They’d all find out how crazy overboard he’d gone when Steve got better and started asking who delivered the whole grocery store to his kitchen, anyway. Too late now.

He pulled into Steve’s driveway in trepidation and unloaded everything, fumbling to carry it all around back to the patio, freeing a hand to slide his fingers under the grill and pull off a key taped to a magnet and unlock the door.

He slipped inside, set all the bags on the counter, and tiptoed into the living room and to the food of the stairs. 

“Steve,” He tried, but his voice came out strangled, so he coughed and tried again. “Steve, got your stuff, it’s on the counter.” And he bolted. Done. Mission accomplished.

He was halfway out the back door when he remembered the ice cream.

Motherfuckin’ son of a goddamn goat-footed bitch.

The ice cream couldn’t just sit on the counter till Steve came down. What if Steve hadn’t heard him? It would melt all over the counter.

He went back in and tried to rifle through the bags with ninja speed. Panther speed. Lightning speed. He found the ice cream and put it in the freezer. By then, though, the rest of the bags were glaring at him. Should he put the rest of the food away, too? His dad was a dick: what if he came in and took it all, or… threw it away? Eddie didn’t know: rich assholes did shit that didn’t make sense all the time.

Reluctantly, he started snooping to find the pantry. The pantry was… alarmingly empty. Pretty much bare. A spotted banana and a jar half full of peanut butter sat on one shelf. A slumped-over bag of brown rice sat on another. What the fuck? He figured he might as well put everything away, now he was here.

He was halfway through when he heard a croaking, miserable sounding, “Hello?” From upstairs.

“Shit,” He whispered. “Shit, fuck, shit, shit, fuck , shit, fuck.” He froze, pivoting between shouting to Steve that he’d brought groceries and just racing out the door when the man himself came shuffling around the corner, rubbing his eyes.

Aw, fuck.

Steve was wearing an old sweatshirt and too-big pants that were twisted at the waist and flopped over his bare feet so just his toes stuck out. His hair was wild, sticking up everywhere. His face was flushed bright red along his cheeks, nose, and ears. His lips were parted a little because (if the slight wheeze, rattle, and heavy sniffs were any indication) he probably couldn’t breathe through his nose. 

He was blinking hard and looked absolutely baffled to see someone in his kitchen, but otherwise hadn’t reacted as negatively as Eddie had been afraid he would. He had been expecting shouting, a good pitchfork chase maybe, definitely some disgust.

What he got was so much worse. Just a sleepy, befuddled Steve who looked like he felt awful, rumpled, uncomfy, and gut-wrenchingly adorable. Fucking shit, fuck fuck shit, etc.

“Eddie?” He asked, or tried to ask through his congestion.

“Yeahhh,” Eddie drawled. “Sorry. Uh, heard you were sick, and Jonathan asked if I could pick you some stuff up from the store so you didn’t have to wait till everyone else was done working?”

Steve tilted his head, trying to follow Eddie’s rambling. Eddie watched a piece of Steve’s hair that had been sticking almost straight up, flop over. He bit the inside of his cheek.

“Huh?” Steve asked and then swayed. On instinct, Eddie rushed over and grabbed his shoulders to stabilize him.

“Woah, woah, I gotcha.” He said. Steve blinked more heavily. “You eaten today?” He asked, thinking of the empty shelves.

Steve grimaced and shook his head. Eddie sighed. He was going to regret the ever-loving daylights out of this. 

“Ok. You sit down right here,” He directed him to the nearest barstool. Then he went around and gathered the cans of soup to show him. “Preference?” He asked. Steve squinted at the cans and started picking them up, turning them to read the nutrition facts. “You allergic to something?” Eddie asked, surprised. Steve shook his head. “... Diabetic?” Steve shook his head again and handed Eddie the tomato soup. Eddie looked between the cans carefully, playing spot the difference. “Are you calorie counting right now?” Steve shrugged at the accusation. “Ok, absolutely not. No more decisions for you. You’re getting whatever I make and I’m staying to make sure you eat it.” He swiped Hearty Chicken and Rice off the counter and started rifling through the cabinets to gather a pot and bowl.

Finally, he carried the soup, a napkin with two slices of bread and butter, and the box of drowsy flu meds over to Steve, who was resting his head on the cool counter. He mumbled something and sniffed when Eddie instructed him to eat, but he did.

After he had eaten all the soup and one of the bread slices and sipped down half a cup of Sprite, Eddie pushed the medicine toward him, which he downed as well.

He kept taking breaks, resting his head on the counter and curling up into himself. Eddie kept himself from patting his limp hair or scratching comfortingly up and down his back like he wanted to because he had self-control. Instead, he cleaned up after himself, rinsing out the pot and putting it in the dishwasher and swiping up bread crumbs and wiping them off his hands in the sink. 

When Steve coughed, it sounded like something was rattling around in his chest. 

“God, dude, you don’t do anything halfway, do you?” Eddie asked. “Alright, ready for bed?” Steve nodded, eyes watering from how the cough had hurt. So, Eddie fixed a cup of ice chips from the automatic dispenser on the fridge and herded him upstairs and back to bed. Steve immediately crawled back under the covers and into the Steve-shaped hole in the middle of a nest of carefully arranged pillows. He grabbed one of the pillows and crushed it tightly against his chest.

As Eddie was turning off the lamp and picking up a crumpled sheet of paper from a pillow, Steve grabbed hold of his wrist. His palm was feverishly hot.

“Was worried about you.” Steve slurred. Eddie looked down at him, confused.

“Me?” He asked. Did flu medicine cause hallucinations? If so, it worked fast.

Steve nodded, smushing his face against the flushed pillow.

“Gareth s’d you weren’t talkin’ to ‘im.” Steve answered. Eddie sighed and sat down on the corner of the bed.

“Yeah… I’ve been in a funk lately.”

“S’it my fault?” Steve asked, cracking the eye that wasn’t shoved into the pillow open at him. It looked watery. Eddie’s mouth dropped open.

“Of course not,” He answered. “Your fault? How - no, Steve, none of it is your fault. It’s all me, ok?” Steve sniffed. He hadn’t let go of Eddie’s wrist yet.

“Ok,” He whispered.

“Good.”

“Will you tell Gareth?” Steve asked, and Eddie had to laugh. “And can I have the ice?” Eddie handed him the cup, and he sat up just enough so he could use the hand that wasn’t holding Eddie to grab two ice cubes to slide into his mouth.

“Do you ever quit worrying about everyone else?” He asked back. When Steve shook his head again, Eddie laughed louder.

“Will you talk to him? He’s worried, too.”

Eddie smiled fondly at him. “Yeah. I’ll talk to him. Will you go to sleep now?”

“Yeah.” His eyes had already started drooping. His grip slipped from Eddie’s wrist and then tightened again so he was holding his hand.

“You gonna let go of me, Steve?” Eddie asked, almost in a whisper. He didn’t want Steve to let go of him.

Steve opened his eyes again, though it obviously took a lot of effort, and looked down at their hands. He took his away slowly, and looked a little embarrassed, but mostly… mostly sad.

“You ok?” Eddie asked him.

Steve shrugged and nodded. “Sorry.” He sighed. Eddie chewed on his bottom lip. 

God, he was the king of bad ideas.

“I can stay if you want.” He offered. He was right on the money apparently: Steve looked at him, mostly with surprise, but also with relief.

“Really?” He asked, still in a whisper.

Eddie nodded.

“Don’t like… being alone,” Steve admitted, looking down and picking at his pillow sheet.

Eddie nodded again. “Me either.” He confessed.

Steve scooted over a little and shifted a few pillows away, giving Eddie a couple of shy sideways glances.

“O-oh, I shouldn’t, Steve… You’re sick, and the pain meds you took are pretty crazy strong. You aren’t thinking straight: I don’t want you to do something you’ll regret.”

Steve looked up at him with the world’s saddest, glassiest eyes. Like, enter them into the state fair and they’d win first prize and go right to regional or whatever. Eddie… didn’t know enough about how fairs worked for that analogy. Whatever.

Then, Steve nodded dejectedly and rolled over to bring another pillow into his grasp, holding it close to his chest and burying his face in it. Eddie felt like the biggest piece of shit on the planet. 

Painfully, but trying to see reason, he reminded himself that Steve wasn’t asking for Eddie to stay and lie down beside him, keep him company while he was really fucking sick and feeling so terrible. He just wanted someone to. Anyone. A bum off the street would do. He definitely wouldn’t have been Steve’s first choice - or second, or eighth, or twelfth - for company, anyway. But Eddie was there. And he needed someone. 

Eddie… Eddie was the last person that he needed. He stood over Steve still, unable to move or make a decision, and watched as Steve shivered against the fever. 

Eddie was the last person Steve needed. But he was there. 

So, against his better judgment, he went over to Steve’s desk and took a quick gander at the books he had there. He found a Shakespeare collection from junior English and grabbed it, then returned to the bed. He shifted a few of the pillows around and gingerly sat down, shifted up so that his back was against the headboard, and cracked open the book. Steve’s body was wafting heat over to him with how strong his fever was.

Settling in, he started counting all of the people currently hiring hitmen to come assassinate him and also started reading The Tempest.

Steve was asleep before he’d read the first line.

Chapter Text

Steve’s evening was a haze. He tried to sleep: his body was so tired, and his brain moved like sludge. Sometimes he noticed someone next to him, long, firm, and warm in his bed. His back sometimes pressed against the warm line of a thigh. 

When he was aware enough, he was pitifully embarrassed to be laying there, sweaty and aching, head hurting through his eyeballs so he had to squint if he opened them at all. He could hardly remember asking Eddie to stay, but his stomach clenched in self-conscious unease when he thought about having done so at all. He couldn’t believe he had done that: asking for help always made him feel sleazy.

More than that, he couldn’t believe that Eddie had agreed . He felt, sounded, definitely looked so gross, had seemed so needy and pathetic, he wished Eddie had ignored him. He hated being like this around other people. It had honestly been a long time since he had been like this around other people. He wanted to hide away, hermit till he felt better. He kept thinking that he would wake fully and give Eddie the all-clear to leave, but he would usually fall back asleep before he could come close.

Other times when he would wake, he barely felt like a person, jerking upright to nausea rolling through his stomach, or to sharp pains in his sore throat, or to give raspy, painful coughs. He would groan, hardly aware, and then roll over.

At one point, he felt a cool, damp pressure on his forehead, like a wet washcloth had been laid against his skin. It was taken away when the heat from his forehead started drying it up.

He woke up again, more fully, later in the evening. He wasn’t sure what time it was, but the darkness was heavy over his room, and the sky above the treeline that he could see out of his window was a gradient of deep blue to black.

Eddie was still there. He was sitting with his back to Steve, hunched over Steve’s desk, with only his desk lamp on and angled away from the bed.

“Eddie?” Steve croaked, reaching blindly for the cold cup of mostly melted ice on his nightstand.

The other guy jumped harshly, dropping the pen in his hand, and then running his fingers through his hair with a cringing smile.

“Heya, pal,” He greeted awkwardly.

Steve rubbed his nose. “Thanks for… Sorry, I… I mean, you didn’t have to stay.” Steve tried. Hopefully, the fever he could still feel all over was enough to hide the flush he felt on his cheeks and ears.

Eddie, thankfully, just shrugged. “It’s ok, I stole a piece of paper and actually started working on a new campaign idea. It’s pretty cool, I thought about creating these stone monsters that - uh, you probably don’t care. Sorry. Anyway, how are you feeling? You still kind of sound rough, no offense.” He rambled.

“Yeah, still feel bad.” Steve rasped, wishing his head wasn’t spinning so hard, so he could actually follow what Eddie was saying.

“Right, you definitely need more medicine. Want to come down and get some more food in you? You don’t wanna take this on an empty stomach, trust me. It’ll make you feel like your brain got taken out by one of those claw machines and is just hanging there. In the least fun way. Anyway, sorry, I’ll shut up now. Want to head down?”

Steve didn’t think he’d be able to manage a nod. “Yeah,” He said instead and slowly moved.

They went down to the kitchen together and Eddie started moving around, first grabbing the Sprite from the fridge and a cup so Steve could pour himself some, before gathering up soup and crackers, a pot, and bowl, and a spoon.

“You don’t have to…” Steve started protesting, then stopped to cough hard, groaning and rubbing his throat when it finally let up again.

Eddie gave him a knowing smirk. “I don’t mind,” He said. “Just sit down, sicky.”

Steve let his eyes drift closed again as Eddie made him more soup.

“Your dad coming back tonight?” Eddie asked. Steve pulled his eyes back open and shook his head. 

“Business trip,” He answered simply.

“Ah, love those,” Eddie said. Steve mustered up a watery smile.

Steve watched blurrily as Eddie fumbled and bopped his way around, humming to himself and doing little shimmying dances as he accidentally sloshed and splashed soup on the stovetop and dropped crackers on the floor before bending down and popping them into his mouth. Steve wrinkled his nose up because wow , that was so gross, but felt the corners of his mouth twitching up nonetheless.

Eddie looked… different. Steve tried to watch him closely, scan him over, and hide his observations away for later when he could really think through them. But Eddie seemed more - solid . Maybe just more sure of himself. Or this could just be what he looked like when he wasn’t worried about what other people were watching him. Whatever it was… Steve thought he looked good. Better, maybe. 

He tried to eat what Eddie put in front of him even though it was the last thing he wanted to do, stomach still rebelling, and just about managed it all. Eddie finally let him take the flu medicine.

“Back to bed?” He asked. 

“I was thinking I’d veg out on the couch and watch some tv till the meds kick in,” Steve answered. Before he could try to tell Eddie that he was good now, so he could leave, Eddie hopped into action again, cleaning up and ushering Steve back to the living room with a bag of cherry cough drops, dropping a blanket over him and grabbing the box of tissues from a side table and tucking it next to him.

“I’ll get outta your hair soon, don’t worry,” Eddie told him, even as he flopped down on the couch and sprawled out, handing Steve the tv remote. “Just waiting till my shift’s up.” 

“Huh?” Steve asked.

Eddie waved his hand dismissively. “Mrs. Byers called a while ago and started leaving a message on your machine. She sounded worried so I picked up and gave her the rundown. She’s sending Jonny and Will over to keep you company. You’re just stuck with me till they make it.”

Steve groaned and partially covered his face with a tissue, blowing his nose hard. “ Why ?” He whined and then heard how pitiful he had sounded and covered his face further.

To his further mortification, Eddie laughed . “I don’t know what to tell you, man. I think this might just be what happens when people care about you.”

Steve grumbled wordlessly, wanting Eddie to know that even if he didn’t have a comeback, he wasn’t happy about any of this, and then he turned flipped through the channels and landed on Bonanza reruns.

Eddie watched delightedly, repeating words and phrases back to the TV in a thick southern drawl, mimicking the gunslingers’ quick draws with his own finger guns and pretending to throw a lasso around every horse that came on screen. God , he was obnoxious, Steve thought, even though he watched him out of the corner of his eye and had to bite back a grin. 

When Adam and Hoss appeared on screen, Eddie put on a high-pitched southern belle’s voice, pretending the two men were fighting over him.

“What’s a girl to do ?” He cried plaintively. Steve covered his ears at Eddie’s cry, sliding onto his side so his head rested on the pillow and arm of the couch.

“Get out of my house, ” Steve ordered, but the breathless, congested, embarrassing giggles he couldn’t control undermined any authority he might have had. Eddie gasped, hand to his chest.

“Why, I never !” He exclaimed. “In all my days , I ain’t never seen such a thing. Where do you expect me to go? All I’ve ever done was care you and nurse you from your sick bed -”

“I’m for sure still on my sick bed,” Steve reminded him blandly.

“And this is the thanks I get?” Eddie made his whole body stiff as a board and slid off the couch so he could cast his head back and wail. “O-o-oh, Stephan, whatever shall I do? Where do I go from here? How do I go on?”

“ Stephan ?!” Steve wheezed and coughed, pushing Eddie’s face away from his leg where Eddie had tried resting his forehead. Eddie climbed up onto his knees in front of him.

“Just give me another chance, Stephan, I’ll do anything , please don’t drive me away like so many others have, I don’t know what I'll do without you -”

“Heh, uh… hey, guys,” A voice came from the kitchen. Jonathan and Will were standing there, both smiling and looking bewildered and awkward. They were each holding grocery bags and backpacks of their own, standing in socked feet, implying that they had stopped to take their shoes off and probably heard way more of that than Steve or Eddie realized. 

And there it was. Steve suddenly went scarlet at the scene they’d just walked in on, with Eddie on his knees, gazing up at Steve the way he was, grasping the blanket between his legs. He got so flustered that he pulled back, yanked up the neck of his sweatshirt, and sneezed.

Eddie, seemingly unbothered, hopped up. “Hey,” He said back to them. “Welcome in, welcome in, thanks for dropping by.” He clapped his hands. 

“Hi, guys,” Steve greeted them too, wincing, and then pretending he was only wincing because of his sore throat.

“El was right, you do sound like death,” Jonathan said sympathetically. “So we’re crashing your place, in case you didn’t know.”

Steve gave him a smile, feeling the smile around his puffy eyes. “Yeah, Eddie told me. Thanks for coming by, it… it means a lot.” Eddie was looking back and forth between them, and some look passed over his face that Steve couldn’t read. Then Eddie glanced awkwardly at Will and moved to the door.

“Well, my work here is done. Steve, there’s ice cream in the freezer, I don’t know if I told you about it… See y’all,” He said and walked out so fast that Steve couldn’t call after him to say thanks before he’d slammed the back door. 

Steve watched him go, feeling lost - not knowing what to feel. Then he looked back and caught Will’s gaze - the kid was watching him closely, he realized, with a curious, but also worried expression. Steve smiled at him sheepishly and shrugged.

“Come on in,” He tried to tell them, even though he was only able to manage a whisper before starting to cough again.

“Thanks,” Jonathan answered, then leaned down to grab Will’s bags, then turned back to the kitchen. “I’m going to put the cold stuff mom sent over away. Do you want that ice cream Eddie got you?”

Will fixed him with a heavy eye but Steve couldn’t read it. “Uh… Yeah, sure. That sounds really good, actually.”

Will came over and sat on the other end of the couch, sitting with his socked feet up in the seat and turning to face him.

“Does Jonathan know about -” He asked quietly and jerked his head back towards Eddie’s path of escape.

“What? God , no. No.” Steve answered.

“Do you not want him to? He’d be cool with it. It’s your choice, though, obviously.”

“I know he’d be cool with it. I don’t care about telling him I’m… you know, bi. But… The Eddie shit, I don’t… I don’t want to…” 

“Ok, then I’ll say this before Jonathan comes back.” Will answered calmly, before whisper-screeching, “What was that?!”

Steve groaned and hid his face in his hands. “I don’t know , and my head feels like it’s stuffed full of duck feathers. Duck feathers? The feathers that are really soft?”

“Down feathers?” Will guessed with a little grin, and Steve waved a hand at him

“I guess. Whatever. I just can’t think and this whole day has been so fuckin’ weird, I don’t know. I don’t think it was anything, it was just him trying to make stuff not weird and doing a really bad job.”

“You don’t think it was anything?” Will asked in a whisper as Jonathan ruffled the grocery bags and pilfered through the kitchen. “He was on his knees talking like he was Scarlett O’Hara and you were Rhett Butler, I didn’t think it was nothing.”

“He wasn’t acting like I was a butler , what?” Steve asked back, hands smushing his face from both sides to stop his head from feeling so swollen he thought it’d burst.

Will laughed. “No, Rhett Butler . He’s a character from Gone with the Wind. It doesn’t matter, really. Point is, I thought we weren’t talking to him? Has he actually apologized to you?”

Steve shrugged. “Sort of,” He answered. “Yeah, sort of.”

“Yeah, sort of?” Will repeated skeptically. 

“It’s complicated ,” Steve said. “Stop acting like you’re my wise old gay wizard guide, I’m literally older than you by a lot.” He accused. “Aren’t you here to make me feel better?”

Will smirked. “I don’t know, Eddie didn’t already do that?” Steve squawked indignantly, which made him sneeze again. Will laughed. Steve thought he was enjoying himself too much.

Jonathan came back in the room carrying a pint of vanilla ice cream and a spoon, which he handed to Steve.

“Alright, guys, what’re we watching?” He asked, throwing himself down on the couch between them. 

“Eddie’s favorite show, apparently,” Will chuckled. Steve leaned his head back to look behind Jonathan and fix Will with a warning glare. Will stuck his tongue out at him. Steve took a pointed bite of his ice cream and let out a long, “Mmmm,” which Will responded to with a grossed-out expression. It only backfired a little when Steve made himself cough, but Jonathan reached over and gave him a friendly pat on the shoulder to get through it, so he thought he came out on top in the end.

Thankfully, the fever and the meds weren’t quite as on top of him as they had been, else he probably would have been yammering on about some pretty stupid shit. About how he’d always wanted a big brother, for instance. Brothers, period. That would have been really dumb. As hard as he’s trying to get better about opening up, being more honest… That would have just been too much.

He’d realized it, for real, somewhere between blowing up a secret Russian mall and walking into a haunted house with molotov cocktails. He needed these people… a lot . He was sure he needed them more than they needed him. 

They were his family . 

He loved being able to complain about driving them around. He loved poking fun at Dustin and making the guys roll their eyes when he made up ridiculous names for DnD. He loved bickering with Will. He loved getting frustrated and bitchy when they didn’t listen to him. 

When the guys had quit the game because of what happened between him and Eddie… He could never explain or describe what that meant to him. He had never been good enough with words. Just… He would die for them. And he didn’t mean that just to be dramatic - he didn’t think he’d ever felt so strongly about something before. He would die for them. So fast. Nothing else seemed like enough, to show or prove how much he cared for them. Caring for other people seemed to come so easy to everyone else, he just didn’t know how they did it. Every little thing they did meant the world to him; he didn’t know how to give it back to them. 

Obviously, all of that would’ve been batshit to say.

So instead he scooted over a little to lay back down sideways, head on the arm of the couch, scrunched up in and around the blanket he’d been given, tucked a cough drop into one cheek, and watched old Western reruns on the tv. He felt Jonathan pat his ankle, then eventually fell asleep. 

Chapter Text

When Eddie raced out of the Harrington house, he made it to his van at break-neck speed and then sat in silence and stared at the closed garage door in front of him.

“What… the fuck. What the fuck?” He whispered, dazed. It had been almost two months since everything had happened and Eddie had stopped seeing Steve, stopped hanging around everyone. And all of a sudden he’d spent half a day heating up soup and watching him sleep?

He scrubbed his hands over his eyes. “What the fu-u-uck ,” He whined. 

Not knowing what else to do, he threw the van into reverse and backed out of the driveway, maneuvering around Jonathan’s car which he’d parked along the street.

God, he’d really gone all out by the end there, hadn’t he? Eddie had always had a theatrical streak, and had never, never had a problem with a good monologue when a monologue was called for. It had been a while, though, since he’d had the… inspiration. And it had been embarrassing as shit, don’t get him wrong. The show he’d been putting on had been a bit more intimate than the ones he usually provided, and Will had given him a sharp, x-ray vision type knowing look that he didn’t feel great about. But…

It was only a little after 9 PM. He’d gotten to Steve’s house somewhere 2 or 2:30, he couldn’t remember. 6 hours with the guy, even snotty and mostly comatose, was all it took to make Eddie feel like he was rattling out of his skin with nervous energy? He’d even written notes for half a campaign while Steve had slept five feet away from him, snoring so loud around his congestion it felt like the windows were shaking.

Damn, he’d left the scrap paper he’d been using on Steve’s desk. Well, shit. 

Regardless, he hadn’t written for two months . Just hadn’t felt like it. Nothing came to him. The blank pages of his notepad had been taunting him for weeks. Not anymore, apparently: it felt like a stopper had been popped out of his brain like a dam had been broken down; like thoughts and ideas and inspiration were filling up in his head like swelling, flooding water. 

That day hadn’t just amazed him in terms of the transformation he felt he was undergoing. He was beginning to realize that Steve had an uncanny ability to remain in disbelief about how the people around him cared about him. It seemed like he couldn’t wrap his mind around the fact that everyone they knew was two seconds away from dropping whatever they had going on to help him out.

This was exactly the opposite way Eddie had expected The King to react. He didn’t go cocky, didn’t get a big head about it. Didn’t take advantage, didn’t wield any of this power that had been dropped on him. 

What was it about this guy?

Eddie didn’t fall asleep till 3 AM that night. He had too much to write.

On Thursday, after Mr. Wheeler had left for his weekly Poker Night, Eddie pulled up for another cooking evening with Karen and Claudia. Karen had promised to teach them how to make cheddar biscuits. She instructed them to cube chilled butter and mix the ingredients all together with their hands, to roll out the sticky dough and use two glass cups that she gave them, dusting flour onto the countertop and around the rims of the cups, for the perfect size and shape.

Eddie liked how the flour felt under his fingers, liked how the dough stuck to his skin and rolled up when he rubbed his hands together. Holly had picked out a bright green and white checkered apron for him to wear this evening, and he had learned the hard way to stop wearing sweatshirts with hoods so the hood didn’t get caught up around the top part of the apron anymore. 

Once the biscuits were in the oven, they all sat down (as usual, by now) around the Wheelers’ kitchen table with their cups of tea. Karen had chosen English Rose for tonight and loaded up Eddie’s cup with three scoops of sugar without his having to ask her to.

“Are you doing alright, honey?” Claudia asked him when they were all seated. “You’re pretty quiet tonight, I noticed.”

Eddie nodded, pushing his hair out of his face and noticing he hadn’t washed all the flour off - there was a little smudge of white still on the inside of his wrist.

“Yeah, I’m ok.” He told them.

“You can always talk to us, you know,” Karen offered kindly. “Gossip’s half of what our cooking nights are for . ” She laughed.

Eddie shifted, still grinning a little, and stared at his mug, watching the dark, shimmering liquid inside gently slosh as he shifted it. “It’s… I don’t know, I did some dumb stuff a while ago. Dumber than usual. And I’m still trying, but I don’t know how to make up for it without making it all about me? Like, having to say sorry, and just… leave it there… it sucks. And it’s really hard. So I… kind of stopped hanging out with pretty much everyone. Part of it was because I was feeling crappy. But… it was also because I’m terrified of screwing up again?”

“Oh, honey…” Claudia sighed sympathetically. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

Karen reached out and patted his wrist. “That sounds really hard,” She said. Eddie swallowed hard against a rising lump in his throat and shrugged. “I think we both understand a little of where you’re coming from.” She said. Claudia nodded.

“I hope this is more encouraging than it sounds, but… arguments and mistakes and apologies kind of come up a lot when you’re around people you care about,” Claudia said.

Karen took a deep breath of her own. “I’ve definitely made terrible choices that I still don’t feel like I’ve made up for. It feels… It’s so easy to get caught up in the moment, and things get away from you so fast. But you’re a good boy, Eddie. Part of making it up to people is to let it go, stop punishing yourself, and start being there for them. You need your friends, and they need you too. Right?”

Eddie gave his teacup another, markedly more watery smile, and nodded. “Yeah, I’m… I’m starting to get that.”

“Good,” Claudia said, giving him a bright smile.

He decided that the smell of baking cheddar biscuits was one of his favorite smells in the world.

On Saturday, Eddie swallowed his nerves and called Gareth’s house. Gareth's mom answered and shouted to him to get the phone. 

“Eddie?” Gareth asked after a minute, sounding a little breathless. Eddie felt a twist of guilt at how surprised and excited he sounded. 

“Yeah, hey, man. I was just… I wondered if you wanted to hang later? If you didn’t have anything else going o-”

“No, I’m completely free!” Gareth interrupted him. “What’re you thinking, your place?”

“Sure, Wayne’s on the night shift this weekend. Bring your own beer if you want any, I don’t have any here. It’s… I’ve got a lot to catch you up on.” Eddie answered.

“Done. Pick me up whenever, man, I’m free all day.”

Two hours later, Gareth hopped into Eddie’s car with a backpack full of beer he’d stolen from his dad, two new horror movies, and a whole list of questions. As soon as he got settled into the passenger seat, he reached over and smacked Eddie’s shoulder. Hard.

“ Ow-wuh !” Eddie exclaimed, pulling back and rubbing his arm defensively.

“Don’t even start that shit with me!” Gareth crowed. “It’s been weeks , man, you iced me out for weeks !”

“I did no-” Eddie’s protest trickled away when Gareth raised up his hand to smack him again. “Ok, ok, you’re right. I did. I’m sorry, man. You… I’ve had a whole lot going on.”

“You better start talking now, then, asshole,” Gareth answered.

“Alright, I guess…” He just started talking. 

First, without going into detail, he told him about the shit show that first hangout with Steve had turned into. Gareth winced and gave a low whistle. He told him about what Max had said, and how he’d thrown out his whole supply. Gareth laughed his ass off when Eddie started telling him about his mowing gigs. Eddie decidedly did not tell him about the cooking lessons he was taking from Mrs. Wheeler. He told him about all the rest, though. The apologies, the work, about taking care of Steve while he was sick. 

The talk lasted the whole drive back to the trailer, while they went inside, and a while after they’d thrown themselves on the couch. 

“Steve said… Steve said you talked to him, that you asked about me. I’m sorry I went radio silence on you. I didn’t know… I still don’t really know how to handle all this, but I really didn’t know how to handle any of it then.”

Gareth shrugged. “It’s ok, man. It kind of sounded like you needed space to figure it out. Is it… better now?”

Eddie waved his hands around vaguely. “Yes and no. I think I’ve got a clearer head about it. It’s still kind of rough though, honestly. Like, the going clean part has… not been fun. You can be glad I cut you out for most of that. Between the jobs kicking my ass and going cold turkey like that?”

“Oh, I bet you were insufferable.” Gareth groaned dramatically, rolling his eyes back. “Did you pay Wayne back for his service?”

Eddie rolled his eyes and laughed. “Shut up. But yeah, I was pretty much an asshole for about four straight weeks.”

The cravings had been bad. Breaking those habits had been bad. Knowing that his first thought whenever things changed, one way or another, was to pick up a drink or smoke? Got something to celebrate, get a 6 pack. Anxious about something, roll a blunt. Need to relax, smoke a cig. He didn’t think he’d ever expected any of this to be life-changing , but it had been.

He still sometimes felt these feelings welling up in him, right from the center of his chest, aching down his shoulders and at the hinges of his jaws. This want. This need. It scared him, a little.

“So is that… it, for you? No more?” Gareth asked. “Do you want me to stop drinking and stuff around you? I mean - Would it help you? I can.” He said, already moving to put his own beer down, looking at it like he had just become conscious of it for the first time right then.

“I don’t think it’s forever. Maybe it is. If I ever start doing any of it again, I want it to be because I want to, not because I need to. Does that make sense?”

“Yeah, totally it does,” Gareth answered quickly. 

“And you can drink and do whatever while I’m around, it doesn’t bother me. Actually… Well, never mind, you don’t really smoke. Just smelling the smoke makes me -” He took a deep breath. “I still crazy crave smokes.”

“What are you doing instead? Anything besides getting beefed up?” Gareth teased, poking at his bare arm.

Jokingly, Eddie rolled up his sleeve all the way up his shoulder and flexed. “Yeah, you like that?” He asked, and Gareth cackled because while he was trying to show off his new (admittedly nice and yeah, almost beefy) muscles, he had also accidentally put his kind of severe farmer’s tan on display, too.

“Catch me, farm boy, I’m swooning ,” Gareth said, pretending to faint and falling into Eddie’s arms. Eddie laughed and pushed him off the couch, and he fell on the ground with a squawk. 

But yeah, Eddie’s new physique (while it wasn’t wildly different) was kind of something he was proud of. With all the cooking and baking he was doing now, practicing some of the recipes Karen had taught him, he’d started putting on a little weight. Nothing more than a couple pounds, since he’d always been slimmer. 

Wayne had taken it all in stride, even when he’d come home to Eddie pulling out a full chicken from the oven to cover in tin foil and stick back in (so the skin doesn’t burn while the rest cooked, duh), or when Eddie had made two dozen lemon poppyseed muffins because he couldn’t get the ratio right. 

The new weight, coupled with work and the exercises Lucas had shown him, and probably the lack of alcohol and weed and nicotine in his system, resulted in more defined shapes to his muscles, more confidence in his movements, more energy. He just… felt stronger . And he liked it.

“You need a spray tan to even that line out, big guy?” Gareth asked. Whether or not he had thought of getting a spray tan was none of Gareth’s business.

“You’re just jealous,” Eddie answered. 

“Jealous? Not me. Now you can carry all the amps and shit by yourself. It’ll be good for you, keep your muscles toned .”

“I definitely didn’t do any of this to become your pack mule, Gare-Bear.”

“Yeah? What did you do it for?” Gareth started wiggling his eyebrows, and Eddie leveled a warning finger at him.

“Don’t even start, wise guy, you’ll do a flip when I throw you out of my house.” 

Gareth put his hands up innocently. “Whatever, man, you’re right. You totally aren’t going through any major hot movie-montage-esque transformations to win anybody back. I get it: I never would have suggested such a thing, anyway.”

They lay back, and Eddie was about to suggest that they start one of the movies Gareth had brought over when the other bastard said slyly,

“On a completely unrelated note, I ran into Steve Harrington the other day.”

Eddie shot him a stinky side eye, then immediately tried to reel himself back in and go casual about it. “Oh, yeah?” He asked.

“Mhm, he totally saved me from some high school bullies, it was really sweet of him.” 

The one thing Eddie was not going to do was pay any mind to the sudden tightness in his chest. “Really?” He asked flatly. “Wow.”

“Oh yeah, he ran up out of nowhere, put his arm around my shoulders, and led me away, the whole shebang. Such a nice guy, I don’t know what would have happened if he hadn’t been there.”

Unbidden, a little grumble came up, and Eddie choked it down. He crossed his arms.

“He is a nice guy, glad he was there to help you.” He said.

“Me too. I sat with him after and we talked for a while, and of course, I said thanks, but I don’t feel like he really knows how much I appreciated him. Gotta find some way to make it up to the guy, you know?” Gareth continued. Eddie snorted, thinking this was the least funny game they’d played in a long.

“Yeah,” He answered, sounding more pissed than he wanted. Gareth flashed him a sharp grin.

“Jealous?” Gareth asked innocently.

“Of you ?” Eddie threw back. 

“I mean, I’m the one who knows how it feels to have Steve Harrington’s protective arm around me. I’d say there’s plenty to be jealous of.”

Before he could help it, Eddie shot him a glare, and Gareth fell over from laughing so hard.

“God, you’re such a dick,” Eddie complained, feeling his cheeks warm.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Gareth answered breathlessly, still giggling and wiping tears from his eyes.

Eddie rolled his eyes. “Whatever, man. Are we gonna watch one of your lame-ass movies or not?”

“Touchy, touchy,” Gareth mocked him but rolled away to put one of the tapes in the player anyway. He started giggling again when he turned around to find Eddie slumped over sulkily into the couch cushions, and Eddie flipped him off.

“Why did I invite you over again?” Eddie asked.

“Because you loooove me,” Gareth answered, making kissy noises at him. “Though not as much as St- Ah!” The movie started as Eddie pulled Gareth into a headlock and noogied him till he took it back.

He did not spend the whole movie thinking about a certain sick guy across town with fluffy dark gold hair and how his arm would feel around his shoulders.

Chapter Text

“There’s no way I can do this.”

“Oh, come on, it’ll be ok.”

“No, Rob, look. This is the full list.”

“ Yikes - I mean - That is… a lot, I’ll admit it. You sure they couldn’t give you more time to do the makeup work?”

“I asked - like three times each. They said I have to get it done before this term’s over or else they can’t go back and alter the grades.”

“Yeesh. Well, we got this, pal. I’ll help you study and stuff.” 

“You don’t understand. I’m flunking every single one of these. There’s too many, and none of this stuff will get in my brain . And then I’m gonna have to drop out of school, and dad’ll kick me out so I’ll be homeless, and winter’s coming up so next thing you know, you’ll find me frozen on the side of the road, and -”

Robin reached over and grabbed Steve by the shoulders, shaking him out of his spiraling panic. 

“Hey, hey! You gotta get a grip, Bubba.” She told him. “You need to like, I don’t know, get up and do some jumping jacks or something?”

“ No, I do not need to do jumping jacks or something .” Steve shot back. “I need a better brain or something. That might actually help. I can’t do all this, Rob, how’m I supposed to get all this done in a week and a half?”

“We can totally do this, bub, we just gotta get through it!” She answered, injecting more bubbly positivity into her voice than he’d ever heard from her. He returned it with a deadpan stare. “Also, I know this isn’t going to help anything, but can we take a moment to look at how everything fell apart when I left you alone for four days? Are we going to acknowledge that, or… ?” 

Steve’s glare probably would have been more effective if it hadn’t been cut off by his lingering cough. “I bet you poisoned my lunch or something, like a real psychopath.” He answered.

Robin just grinned and patted his head, making him jerk away so she didn’t mess up his hair. “You’re a wreck without me, Harrington, just admit it.” He tried to bite, snapping his teeth at her fingers, and she snatched them back. 

“Stop distracting me,” He hissed. “You said you’d help me study. I should just go ask Dustin.” Robin cackled as he pushed all his papers and the books he’d gathered back into his backpack.

“Oh Steve, come ooon , I’ll help you, I promise!” Robin said. 

“Nope, too late,” Steve answered. “Come on, I’m hungry.” He pulled her seat out, bent so his shoulder dug into her stomach, and scooped his arm under her knees, wrestling her up into a fireman’s carry. She squawked and flailed and he (mostly) pretended to almost drop her so she had to stabilize herself against his back.

He turned her around and bent his knees. “Grab your shit or it’s staying.” He warned, and she swiped her bag up. He could tell, because it swung and hit him in the ass. That was probably on purpose.

“You’re insufferable,” Robin grumbled, but hung over his back limply, accepting her fate. He marched out of the study hall and through campus, heroically ignoring the looks and snickers they were getting from other passing students. Robin’s fluffy hair swayed back and forth in time with Steve’s strides.

As they approached the next pair of doors on their walk (since they had to go through the art building on their way out to the parking lot), three other people fell into step on either side of them. Blake, Tiffany, and Michelle. The five of them overlapped most of their classes and had become friendly enough that they waved at each other when they passed, and sat around together to eat sometimes. 

“Hey, Steve, Robin,” Blake greeted them casually. He was a tall, dark-haired, artsy type. He was a bit of an oddball, floating between chemical engineering and illustration. Steve would sometimes watch him doodle in the middle of their philosophy elective, filling up the margins of his pages with circles full of goofy expressions and crosshatches. He was wicked smart too, though, and always had this sharp look on his face like he was always analyzing you, always understood what you were thinking and saying better than you did. 

“Hi, guys,” Tiffany was also willowy and tall, with long dark red hair that she would twist and braid and pin up elaborately, always dressed in sleek black, traditional Gothic clothing that she had made herself. Like, full lace skirts and petticoats and shit. She held herself with easy confidence and was always sewing something - sometimes while it was on her. She was going for her business degree here and was already applying to fashion schools up in New York.

Michelle was quieter, and more bright, looking like she dressed exclusively after Stevie Nicks. She was an education major and was always carrying around stacks of children’s books and writing notes to herself all up and down her arms and hands. She was a bit more scatterbrained, but sweet and a lot less intimidating than the other two. 

Robin lifted an arm to wave at them, then flopped back over.

“Oh, hey guys, what’s up?” Steve asked. 

“Oh, nothing much,” Blake said breezily. “How about with you all?”

“Yeah, about the same. Finals prep is kicking my ass. I have a feeling I’m on my way to becoming a lifelong babysitter.”

“You babysit ?” Tiffany cooed, and Steve scoffed and felt himself blush. “That’s adorable. Isn’t that adorable, Blake?” 

Blake chuckled. “Yeah, that’s pretty cute.” He answered. Steve felt himself flush.

“ Sooo , Robin,” Tiffany began trailing a little behind Steve to look down at her. “Anything new with you?”

“Nah,” Robin answered.

“Allow me,” Blake said, opening the door to the art building for Steve.

“Appreciate it,” Steve said, then turned to Tiffany. “This is just what happens when you’re a bad tutor.” He swung Robin back and forth.

“I’m gonna barf on you, Harrington,” Robin threatened, sounding a little queasy. 

Tiffany giggled. “You two are such a cute couple.” 

“Ugh, now I’m really gonna barf on you,” Robin said, and Steve shook his head.

“I wouldn’t date this clown if she was the last person on earth, are you kidding?” Steve said. Robin reached up and poked his side, and he jumped and threatened to drop her.

“Oh really ?” Michelle asked. “Well, in that case, I might know someone who’s also interested in being a bad tutor…” She said, wiggling her eyebrows.

On the other side, Blake choked a little, and Steve noticed he’d gone a little red.

“Yeah?” Steve asked lightly.

“Mhm,” Michelle answered, skipping ahead of them. 

Blake held the next set of doors open for Steve again and they walked out close to the parking lot.

“Erm, not saying I want to fail at anything, but if you wanted, I could always help you study sometime? I’m pretty much free, since I took off work coming up on finals.” Blake offered, rubbing the back of his neck and tugging the collar of his shirt. 

“Really?” Steve asked, surprised. He stopped at the edge of the sidewalk, bent his knees, and put Robin’s feet back on the ground. Robin stood back up, groaning and holding her head, and Tiffany laughed and caught her when she stumbled a little.

“Yeah, of course!” Blake answered eagerly.

“That’d be awesome, let’s do it!” Steve beamed, then pointed a finger at him jokingly. “No making fun of my stupid questions, though.” 

“You could never ask a stupid question,” Blake told him, and Steve grinned again.

“Good answer.” He said.

“You say that now…” Robin muttered at the same time, and Steve swatted her head.

Michelle tutted and reached up to smooth down Robin’s hair. Robin smiled at her shyly and blushed.

“Really, though, don’t get too stressed about finals, ok?” Michelle said sweetly.

“Thanks, Michelle,” Robin said, twisting the strap of her bag around over and over. Oh, Steve was making fun of her for that for sure . “This one here,” Robin elbowed him, “Is going to get so stressed all his hair’s gonna fall out, so enjoy it while it lasts.”

He rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. “Am not,” He complained, and the others laughed.

“If you need something to look forward to, there’s gonna be a Battle of the Bands concert we’re going to over spring break,” Tiffany said. “The bands are a little on the harder side, so they might not be quite your scene, but it’s at a dodgier bar that’s lax on checking IDs, so a win’s a win, right?”

“Sure!” Robin said. “Where’s it at?”

“The Hideout. It’s out toward Hawkins - that’s where you all are commuting from, right?” Blake asked.

Steve felt a little tingle of nerves run through him at that. 

“Ooh,” Robin grimaced. “You don’t happen to have a list of the lineup, do you? We… might know one of the bands -”

“Rob, come on.” Steve cut her off.

“What? Don’t start with me.”

“What’s up?” Tiffany asked, grinning incredulously. “You have beef with a band that plays at the Hideout? ” 

“No beef,” Steve denied quickly. “Not really. It’s no big deal.”

“It is a big deal. We’re not having this argument.” Robin answered. “It’s complicated,” She told the rest of them.

“You got an ex in one of the bands?” Michelle asked sympathetically, sounding like she’d been there before.

“He sort of does. It’s complicated.” Robin repeated.

“No, no I don’t,” Steve interjected, sounding a little strangled. 

“Really?” Blake asked, sounding surprised. “But you’re… sorry, I - you just seem too… nice to… know… most of the bands who play there. Sorry, that sounded weird, I didn’t mean it like that -”

“No, no,” Steve said. “It’s ok. Rob, that band hasn’t been playing together. I don’t think there’s a chance they’ll be there. And even if they are, it’s ok. I want to go.”

Robin fixed him with a stink eye. “Steve.” She said shortly, aggravated.

“You’re the one who wants me to loosen up! Let’s just go have some fun!” He answered pleadingly. “I promise it won’t be a big deal.”

Blake grinned and threw an arm over Steve’s shoulders. “Yeah, Robin, come on - even if Steve’s sort-of-it’s-complicated-ex is there, we’ll protect him. Let’s have some fun!” Steve pointed at Blake as if to say, “ See?! ”

Robin chewed on her bottom lip, eyebrows drawn together. 

“It’ll be fun to have a reason to get all dressed up, right?” Tiffany asked cajolingly. Robin glanced between her and Michelle, and slowly let herself relax. 

“Oh… alright. You’re right, it does sound fun.” Tiffany and Michelle cheered and grabbed and shook her arms excitedly, and Robin ducked her head down and grinned. 

Blake smelled really good. He was taller than Steve by at least four inches. Steve noticed that he left his arm around his shoulders a few beats longer than was necessary, and he let himself feel a little smug about it. He caught Robin watching them and stuck his tongue out at her, and she rolled her eyes. 

“Do you want to meet up tomorrow to study? I live off campus too, about halfway to Hawkins, so I can go somewhere closer to you.” Blake offered, looking down at him.

“Yeah,” Steve answered, trying to sound more casual about it. “That’d work great. There’s a diner right off the exit, want to meet up around 7? Or would that be too late?”

“No!” Blake said quickly. “That sounds perfect! It’s a date.” Steve agreed. 

When the other three walked away and Steve and Robin headed back to his car, she opened her mouth and he shot a finger at her. “Not. A. Word.” He said, but his threat didn’t come off quite as serious while he was smiling so wide.

“I have absolutely nothing to say - except for the fact that ten minutes ago you bit my head off for distracting you and as soon as tall dark and handsome comes along, you’re ready to waste a whole evening!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Steve sniffed, sticking his nose up. “We’re meeting up to study. I bet he’ll be very helpful.”

“Ooh, I don’t doubt he’ll be helpful .” Robin shot back.

“About as helpful as you want Michelle to be, huh?” Steve asked, and Robin went scarlet.

The next evening, as the sun was beginning to set, Steve found himself sitting in a booth across from Blake, who was writing on a notepad, and looking at his sharp nose, and soft wavy black hair, the way his broad shoulders pulled at his soft black t-shirt. They were sharing a plate of fries and had each gotten their own milkshakes, but they each took sips out of the other.

Despite the… distracting subtext of their ‘study session’, Blake was actually really helpful. He was good at seeing what wasn’t making sense to Steve and rewording it, or putting it in a different context, till Steve got it. 

The whole evening was going swimmingly until the bell over the door chimed and four gangly, nosy teenagers walked in.  Steve spotted them before they saw him, and only just bit back a groan.

Lucas spotted him first, after the waitress walked away from taking their drink orders. He smiled widely and waved, and the rest of the boys turned. Steve gave a reluctant smile and a lazy two-fingered salute back, which made Blake glance up and look over his shoulder.

Dustin looked up next, and his face lit up. He bounced over, WIll, Mike and Lucas all following.

“Steve! Hey!” He exclaimed, then peered over at the newcomer sitting across from him. “Who’s this?”

“Hey, Dust, this is Blake. He’s helping me study , since we share some classes. Blake, these are some of the kids I used to babysit.” Steve said. Blake gave him a wide, delighted smile. 

“You and Robin weren’t kidding about that!” Blake said. Steve morosely thought he didn’t have to sound so excited about it.

“No, no, Steve used to drive us around everywhere ,” Lucas answered gleefully. “He watched us all the time.”

Will was the only one, as usual, who had even the tiniest amount of decency. He smiled at the two of them and asked, “What are y’all studying?”

Blake looked down. “We’re going over philosophy right now, and math is next.” He said.

Dustin smacked Steve’s shoulder. “You know I could’ve helped you with math!” He told him. Steve groaned and covered his face. Nothing sexier than the high schooler you used to watch helping you with math. Jesus Christ .

“You good with numbers?” Blake asked Dustin kindly.

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve grumbled, waving a dismissive hand. “He’s like some genius math whizz or whatever.” Blake chuckled.

“So what’s your deal?” Mike butted in with animosity that somehow still managed to surprise Steve, even though he wasn’t sure why at this point. Moody was his default setting, Steve should know this by now…

“Uh,” Blake said, giving him a confused, lopsided grin. “You mean what’m I in school for? Or…”

“No one ever knows what Mike means,” Steve cut in. “Don’t worry about it. And you all,” He turned to glare at the boys, most of whom looked all too happy to be under his hard stare, “should get back. To. Your. Seats.”

Will grabbed both Lucas and Mike’s elbows and Dustin beamed and waved at them as he followed them all back. When they sat back down, Steve groaned and hid his face. 

“I’m so sorry,” He told Blake. “That was so embarrassing.” Blake ducked his head a little to look under Steve’s fingers and meet his eyes, and Steve felt him nudge his foot under the table.

“Don’t worry about it,” Blake said, grinning. “Like I said before, it’s cute.” Steve grumbled a little, and angrily munched on a couple of french fries, pointedly ignoring the looks and whispers coming from the other table.

Blake covered their tab, even though Steve tried to say he should take it to make up for Blake helping him. Blake grinned and said he had too good of a time, that paying for a couple of shakes and some fries didn’t even cover it. 

When they passed the boys’ table on the way out, Dustin theatre-whispered, “We’re talking about this on Friday,” and Steve flipped him off behind his back, where Blake couldn’t see. 

Standing between each of their cars in the parking lot, Blake pulled out a piece of scrap paper that he tore in half, and they traded phone numbers. After Blake had driven off, and before Steve slid into his own car, he glanced back into the diner and saw all the boys still watching him. He rolled his eyes, huffily sat down, and slammed his door closed, then, fought a giddy grin all the way home.

On Friday, when Robin and Steve walked in to the Byers’ house for game night, the boys were anxiously waiting for them, none of the regular games pulled out and ready.

“Was that a date?!” Dustin screeched. Steve groaned and turned on his heel, getting ready to walk right back out. Dustin snatched his arm and Lucas grabbed the back of his shirt, pulling him back in. “You have to tell us! Why don’t you want to tell us?!”

“Try it’s none of your business, that’s why,” Steve bitched.

“You have to tell us!” Lucas pressured, tugging on his shirt. “We’re dying here!”

Steve scoffed. “Nobody’s dying .” He said. “You all not knowing one thing about my life isn’t going to make anyone catch on fire. It was nothing , he was just helping me study . Now can we move on? When did Game Night turn into Let’s make sure Steve doesn’t have any privacy night?”

“Robin,” Dustin said, turning to her where she was leaning against the door and smirking. “You have to tell us, come on. That was totally a date, right?” 

Robin brought out her hand, pretending to inspect her nails. “Oh, you mean with Blake the total hottie ?” She asked nonchalantly. “It totally was.” 

“Oh, my God, Rob.” Steve turned on her.

“He was hot,” Will said.

Mike scoffed loudly behind them, arms crossed. Steve looked at him and raised his eyebrows.

“What’s your deal?” He asked, hoping to deflect. Mike rolled his eyes and ignored the question.

“Ignore him,” Dustin said, waving Mike off. “He’s been a total bitch about this whole thing and none of us know why. But you confirmed it, right? It was a date?” He asked Robin again.

“A first partial date. Date under pretenses.” Robin confided. “The concert that we’re going to this weekend, though? Complete, confirmed date. ” 

“OH, my GOD, Rob,” Steve repeated, embarrassed.

“Concert?” Dustin latched on to the news. “Spill!” He told Steve, shaking his arm. 

“No!” Steve answered, voice breaking and going high pitched. “It’s not a date! A first date to The Hideout ? Of all places? No way. It’s just for fun.”

“The Hideout?” Mike asked from his sulking spot on the couch. “Where Eddie and his band play?”

“They’ve played there sometimes, yeah,” Robin answered. “Eddie’s band isn’t playing for this, though, I called over today and checked the Battle of the Bands lineup to make sure.”

“Yeah, it’s a total dive bar that they play at because no one cards .” He backtracked fast on that one. “Which does not mean that any of you can go, because if you do, I will tell Hopper and each of your parents.” He threatened, glaring at each of them till they deflated. “Now, would you all shut up about this so that I can destroy all of you at Candyland, or what?”

He pretended he didn’t hear Dustin making Robin promise to tell him everything about the Battle of the Bands after.

In the middle of the night that night, Steve jerked awake, the lingering (imaginary) feeling of fingers trailing over his skin still fresh. He had dreamt of someone leaning over him as he lay on the bed and kissing his eyelids and kissing his lips, bracketed on either side by strong arms, hidden from view by long wild brown hair, looking up into round brown eyes that squinted in a playful smile.

He rolled over and grabbed his pillow, shoved his face into it, and tried to muffle his yell.

Chapter Text

Honestly, Eddie felt great. Better than he had in months. 

He was writing more than he had in ages, filling up pages on pages with campaign ideas, character sheets, song lyrics, and storylines. 

He was reading again, starting with a couple old favorites and even hitting up the library for new ones. 

He had picked his guitar back up and started practicing again, even though he had to work on building the callouses right at the tips of his fingers back up. 

He, Gareth, Jeff, and the other Hellfire guys were all hanging out again, almost every night it felt like. They spent a lot of time out back at Jeff’s place since he had a fire pit. 

Max was actually letting him come inside and hang out, watch tv with her, and cook in her kitchen when Susan asked him to check on her. He was hanging out some with Lucas and Mike again, too. 

He hadn’t seen Eleven since she’d come in and peered inside his brain, but Hopper also hadn’t shown up to execute him, so he guessed he was ok there, too?

A fog had cleared. Things definitely weren’t perfect, but they were better . He didn’t wake up in the morning feeling slimy anymore, or at least he didn’t most days. He didn’t have to wrestle himself into doing anything or staying motivated. His cravings weren’t nearly as intense, and even when they got bad, he had actually resources to help tie him over, like an adult and shit. He could honestly say, despite everything, he was proud of himself for getting to the point where he was.

He interviewed at the new record shop again, since they’d originally told him to come back once business had picked up, and he thought he actually had a chance. The manager he’d interviewed with had been super friendly and it seemed like they vibed really well. Karen and Claudia had both offered be to references for him. Claudia had gone so far as to write him a letter of recommendation, and so had Lucas’s dad.

Did he sometimes still daydream about Steve? About really making things right, about being able to be friends with him again - for real this time? 

Maybe. 

Probably more than ‘sometimes’, if he was being completely and totally honest. 

So, whatever, maybe he spent a lot of time thinking about him. Maybe he thought a lot about making him laugh. Maybe he thought about his hair. Maybe he sketched the bridge of his nose from memory sometimes. It was whatever, it was totally chill, it wasn’t a big deal at all. 

The fact of the matter was, he wasn’t about to push the guy into anything he didn’t want. Whether it was accepting Eddie’s apology, accepting Eddie’s ask to be friends again, or (as if he’d ever make it back there) letting Eddie take him out on a date. 

He did know that he needed to apologize to Steve for real, probably soon. He still deserved a real, sincere, full apology. Eddie didn’t think he was avoiding it, or putting it off, he just wasn’t sure what the line was between giving Steve the space he no doubt needed and him running away from it.

And if he imagined finally giving Steve his apology, probably in the rain, and Steve running to him also in the rain to forgive him for everything? And tell Eddie that he missed him? And cup his face in his strong hands and kiss him so they both tasted like rainwater and each other’s warm skin? And Eddie could show him how strong he was now by lifting him in his arms and spinning him around? And making the kiss so magical that they could kiss every time it rained after that and remember their first time? What about it?

That was no one’s business but his own.

Mike had started hanging out with Eddie and Gareth and the rest of them while they practiced. That Saturday, he carried with him a rolled-up poster board and waited for someone to ask him about it before he unveiled it, pretending he’d forgotten about it. 

“Oh, yeah!” He said. “ Completely forgot. This made me think of you all, so I grabbed it!” Dramatic little shit.

It was a poster advertisement from The Hideout. Eddie remembered seeing it at the record shop the last time he’d gone in. It was for their Battle of the Bands coming up the next week.

“You guys play here sometimes, right? Have you all thought about entering?” He asked. Eddie narrowed his eyes at him. Mike was never one for being so subtle or suave . 

Gareth looked at the poster with wide eyes. “No, I hadn’t heard about it. Let’s do it!” He said, reaching over to smack Eddie’s chest excitedly.

Eddie peered over at the paper, then looked up and tried to read Mike’s face, which was purposefully blank and innocent, eyes wide and smiling beguilingly. 

“It’s only a week away,” Eddie said slowly. “That’s not a lot of time to practice.”

Mike huffed. “Come on, man, y’all are way better than any of these drunks that’re playing. They’re accepting entries till Tuesday, just do it and pick songs you know really well.”

Jeff smiled hopefully, and Eddie felt a sinking feeling that he was going to have to walk blindly into whatever Mike was scheming.

Jeff patted Eddie’s arm with the back of his hand. “We can totally do it, Ed, come on! A couple crowd pleasers, we got this in the bag. $50 cash prize? Let’s do it!”

Eddie stood over the poster for a minute and glared at it, trying to figure out what the catch was, trying to figure out what Mike was trying to trick him into. Whatever it was, he couldn’t solve the puzzle, and his bandmates were getting antsy.

“Eddieeee,” Gareth groaned, shoving at his shoulder. “It’s been forever since we got up on stage. Don’t you miss it ?” He asked. 

Even Corey, who was usually brooding and quiet even at their practices, set down his guitar and looked at him with excitement. 

He glared up at Mike, looking his face over carefully, and finally sighed. “I mean, I guess I’ve missed performing. I’m in.”

The guys around him crowed in excitement, and the innocent look slid off of Mike’s face so that all that was left was a sharp, triumphant smile.

Jeff and Corey immediately started yammering about set lists. Gareth looked more carefully at the poster to figure out how to enter Corroded Coffin into the lineup, and then immediately ran inside to call the bar and give them their name.

Eddie carefully set his guitar down and cornered Mike a little apart from them, hissing, “What’re you planning, Wheeler?”

Mike looked at him smugly. “What are you talking about, Eddie? I just thought it’d be fun to get you all up on a stage again.”

“You can’t go if that’s what you’re trying to get out of this. You don’t have a fake, and I’m not vouching for you, and even if you did have a fake I wouldn’t let you.” Eddie said firmly, pointing a finger at him.

Mike raised his hands innocently, that slimy little bastard. “I won’t go to your bar while I’m underage, mom .” He said condescendingly. 

Eddie narrowed his eyes at him again.

“I know you’re up to something, pipsqueak. Knock it off, whatever it is.” He said. “I’m not getting all tangled into whatever… shenanigans you’re pulling.” He said, wiggling his fingers. Mike laughed. Basically chortled . Little shithead. Then he patted Eddie on the shoulder and pushed him back toward his bandmates.

“Better start practicing,” He sing-songed, throwing himself back down on the couch. “You’ll do great .”

Solidly trapped in this Battle of the Bands fiasco, Eddie reluctantly let himself get revved up for it, letting Gareth, Jeff, and Corey’s excitement rub off on him. They planned to meet up every night till the event and practiced for hours. 

Even outside of that, feeling a knot of pre-show jitters sit firmly in the center of his chest, Eddie carried the guitar around the trailer with him while he was home so he could constantly play, feeling the stretch and pull of his fingers, the pressure of the strings against his callouses, fiddling with the pick in his other hand and practicing different strumming and plucking patterns. 

Whatever Mike was planning, it’d feel good to knock this competition out of the park.

That week leading up to the competition was a bunch of different things, too. It was fall break, for one. 

It was also the week of the Hawkins Fall Festival, complete with hay rides, corn mazes, pumpkin carving competitions, booths set up with art and food to sell, and carnival games and rides. 

It was one of his favorite times of year - and definitely his favorite of Hawkins’ gimmicky festivals. It was also close enough to Halloween that a lot of people dressed up to go, and he kept a funny mask in his back pocket in case he needed to escape. 

He, Gareth, and Jeff walked around the fair, meeting up with Lucas, Mike, and Max partway through. They stared at the booths and played a couple of games. Max won a stuffed lizard that she wore across her shoulders, and Mike won a foam sword. Eddie treated himself and bought an obnoxiously large soft pretzel with cheese sauce that he munched on as they walked around, and then an apple cider to cup between his hands.

It was honestly not too cold yet, even in the last week of September. Warm enough that all he wore was a pair of ripped black jeans, a white henley, and a thick red and black checkered flannel. He liked the warmth of the cider in his hands, though.

They moved from one lane of vendors over to the next and Eddie stumbled to a stop so abruptly that Lucas clipped his shoulder and a bit of the cider sloshed out onto his hand.

Steve was standing there, in front of the dinky, honestly kind of sketchy-looking Ferris wheel that had been set up, and was flashing neon lights. He was looking at Eleven as she talked, standing in front of him and motioning emphatically with her hands. Robin stood to his left. Will and Jonathan and Argyle were with him, too.

He looked really good. But when did he not?

He was wearing a thick blue sweater and jeans and brown boots, looking warm and comfy, cheeks a little red from the wind, hair mussed by the wind, eyes bright and attentive, lips smiling.

Dustin walked up to Steve and jostled his arm, saying, “Steve! Where’s Bla-a-ake ?” In a teasing voice. Steve’s mouth dropped open and he looked at Dustin in affront, but his cheeks went even pinker.

“Blake?” Eddie asked.

“That’s no one.” Mike spat hastily, at the same time that Lucas said, “Steve’s new study partner, ” in a joking voice. Lucas nudged at Mike with his elbow. “Steve keeps saying it’s nothing, but we totally caught them on a date.” Then Lucas and Max pulled away and joined the others. 

“He’s no one ,” Mike repeated meaningfully, glaring dolefully at the back of Lucas’s head. “Just some pretentious art nerd that Steve has classes with. They were literally just studying when we ran into them.”

“O-oh,” Eddie stuttered, feeling totally untethered. “No, no, that’s fine. It’s fine, that’s… cool.” He began and then tapered off lamely. What was he supposed to say? It wasn’t like he was allowed to feel jealous . 

Dustin looked over at the approaching group, looked at Eddie with surprise, and then leveled an accusatory look at Mike, who finally pulled away. Steve finally looked over too, startled, and then offered a tentative smile and waved at him.

That was the most beautiful thing Eddie had ever seen.

As soon as he thought it, Eddie berated himself for it. He gritted his teeth, awkwardly returned Steve’s smile, and inched his way over to them.

“Steve! Hey!” Gareth greeted and loped over to pull him into a hug. Robin stood next to him stiffly, and Steve nudged her pointedly with his elbow when Gareth pulled away.

“It’s great to see you guys! How’s it going?” Steve asked warmly. 

“Oh, it’s alright,” Jeff answered with a nervous smile. “How’s school going?”

Steve blew out a heavy, exaggerated breath. “Trying to kill me, but I made it through finals and then slept for two days straight, so I’m making it.”

“ Anyway ,” Robin said pointedly, and Eddie flinched. “Let’s go get hotdogs, yeah?” She tried to pull him away, but Steve patted her hand and told her to let go.

“You head on, Robs, I’ll catch up.” He told her, motioning pointedly. Robin tried to activate her laser eyes, but whatever she saw in his gaze made her huff, stomp away, and grab Dustin’s shoulder to start him marching too when he started to protest leaving Steve behind.

Everyone meandered off awkwardly, leaving Eddi and Steve standing under the Ferris wheel.

“Hey,” Steve said softly, smiling a little. “I, uh, wanted to say thanks, for coming over and helping me out while I was sick. I was pretty out of it, so I know it definitely wasn’t fun.”

Eddie immediately shook his head, pouncing on the olive branch that Steve was extending ravenously. “I wanted to help out, I’m glad I could… Glad I could be there.”

Steve shook his head. “I know you bought a whole bunch of stuff for me, I’ll pay you back. I’ve got some cash on me now, but I wasn’t expecting -”

“I’m not taking your money, Steve,” Eddie grinned at him. “Not a chance.”

Steve huffed, exasperated. “Well… Will you at least let me buy you…” He peered into Eddie’s cup. “Another cider?”

“Nope,” Eddie answered magnanimously, popping his ‘p’. “If you really want to make it up to me…” He thought about it. “You’ll let me buy you some food. And maybe a cider too, or a hot chocolate?”

Steve stared at him searchingly for a moment. Eddie wasn’t sure what he was looking for. Whatever it was, though, he seemed to find it, and he nodded and gave Eddie a dimply grin. “Ok, Ed. To pay you back for spending money on flu meds, I’ll let you buy me more food.” He laughed.

Eddie pumped his fist. “Sweet,” He said. “Where are we headed?”

He bought Steve a funnel cake and a cup of hot chocolate, and they sat at a picnic table while Steve ate.

Eddie had to bite his tongue till the taste of copper stung his mouth to keep from asking about Blake . Steve ate about half of his funnel cake before offering the rest to Eddie to finish, and Eddie tried glaring at him but gave in way too easily and began picking at it.

“Sounds like finals kind of kicked your ass?”

Steve chuckled. “Yeah,” He said. “I’ve never been a big school guy. I don’t know why I thought college would be any different. But, now that they’re over, I’m feeling pretty good about them.”

“Nice,” Eddie said encouragingly, licking his lips.

“Hey, I don’t think I ever said… Thanks for your note, too, and the monkey bread. I… forgive you, or I - accept your apology, or whatever. I appreciated you doing that for me.”

“Don’t -” Eddie said, shocked that Steve would come out and say it like that, and totally missing the chance to cut him off. “You don’t have to forgive me yet. I don’t… feel like I’ve earned it yet. I’ll keep trying to make it up to you, I swear, I don’t want you to feel like you have to.”

Steve smiled at him kindly. “I know I don’t have to. I can be bad about just - brushing this stuff away, to get it over with. But the way you said sorry, in the note - it gave me the chance to really think about it and wait till I’m ready, and I am. And anyway, I don’t like holding grudges or whatever. It can be bad sometimes, but I like being the kind of person who lets stuff go easy. That’s the kind of person I want to be. So yeah. I forgive you.”

Eddie looked at him, studying his face, his reassuring grin, and thought, Goddamn, I’d die for you. How could someone be… just be like that? It wasn’t fair - fair to him, or to Steve. None of that made sense. But… it felt like all he could do was follow Steve’s blazing path forward. All he could ever do was trail along behind him. He finally smiled too. 

“Well, thanks, then. That means a lot.” He said. They sat for a minute, looking at each other. Then, Eddie glanced a little over Steve’s shoulder. 

“Hey, you want to go on a hayride?” He asked. Steve glanced behind him too, to where people were piling onto hay bales piled on the back of a tractor-trailer. He turned back around and his eyes were bright.

“Yeah, I’d love to.”

“Robin won’t kill me, will she?”

“She’ll kill me, too, so it’ll be even,”

“I’ll take that.”

They climbed onto the very end of the line of trailers, taking turns holding their hot drinks so they could clamber up and settle in, hay poking into the backs of their legs. As the tractor rattled down its path, they tried horribly explaining the plots of movies to see if the other could guess and giggled and cackled the whole way around.

Eddie’s heart felt like a glowing sun in his chest, beaming right through his ribcage as his cheeks hurt from laughing and he watched Steve wipe a tear from his eye. He could be ok with this if this was all he ever got. He could be more than ok, who was he kidding? He’d pick up whatever glowing sunny scraps Steve would ever give him and be the happiest man alive.

Chapter Text

The Hideout was packed, dark, and heavily smoky. Stepping inside, it was immediately hot and stuffy compared to the cool night air.

Steve was sure Robin was more grateful for the sudden temperature change than he was since he’d at least gone for a thick, soft black sweater that hugged his form and lay nicely around his neck, a scuffed-up pair of jeans, and boots, all under a warm brown jacket. It contrasted the bright red silky button-up Robin had chosen to leave half unbuttoned to show peaks at a black bra underneath, which she wore with a smidge-tighter-than-baggy pair of jeans and smeared black eyeliner. She’d put her hair up into a high bun with falling tendrils framing her face, and no jacket because it “distracted”.

They fit in, though.

Tiffany wore a tight, short black leather dress and a fluffy leopard print coat that fell past the dress and met her knee-high lace-up leather heels. Her red hair was intricately braided and crafted into her own version of a French twist.

Michelle had borrowed pieces of Tiffany’s wardrobe, and showed up wearing a black lacy dress swirling with deep purple flowers and butterflies, cinched at the waits with a black corset designed with elaborate silver hardware, thick black combat boots, and a heavy leather jacket.

Blake wore an artfully shredded forest green long-sleeve shirt that subtly showed off his slender, toned torso. He wore tight black jeans that he had written and drawn all over, sturdy brown boots, two chain bracelets with little dangling charms on one wrist, and a glinting silver necklace.

Blake had driven them so that they could walk in together, and they all dove into the crowd to muscle their way toward the bar, order their drinks, and find standing room in front of the stage. The place was full of other college kids on fall break too, probably a huge change of pace for the Hideout’s regulars.

While the girls stayed close, they huddled together to give Blake and Steve a little privacy, being less subtle than they thought about the winks they sent over.

They angled toward each other carefully, and Blake looked down at Steve, eyes dark and smile sharp. He leaned down toward Steve’s ear and said, “You look good,” then pulled away.

Steve smiled back. “Thanks,” He answered. “You too.” Feeling brave, he took gentle hold of the bracelets on Blake’s wrist by hooking two fingers into them and pulled them up to look at the charms. One was shaped like a heart locket, painted red. The other was a black skull with a twinkling green gem for an eye. “Cute,” He said, grinning up at him.

Blake pretended to swoon, fainting against Steve’s side. Steve adjusted quick to save his drink and laughed as he caught him. Then, Blake turned and gave him a softer smile. 

“Thanks, really. I was… Is it embarrassing to say that I was kind of nervous for tonight?” Blake admitted.

“Nervous about coming to this place? No, I think you were pretty spot on there.” Steve joked, and Blake pushed his shoulder. Steve chuckled. “No, no… I - kind of was, too.” He said. He’d been jittery with nerves the whole time, waiting impatiently at Robin’s for them to come by and pick them up. Robin had threatened to tie him down if he kept pacing back and forth in front of the mirror.

“Oh, really ?” Blake asked, wrapping long fingers around Steve’s elbow and rubbing his thumb along the bend of his arm.

“You don’t have to act all smug about it, you said you were nervous first,” Steve said, feigning annoyance and rolling his eyes. Blake flicked a lock of hair that had fallen into Steve’s face.

“I dunno… I’m feeling pretty smug about it. I think I’ll try to keep this going. I bet I could find plenty to be smug about, just give me a minute…” He pretended to think and Steve chuckled again.

Soon, the show started, and the place got packed enough that they could brush up against each other inconspicuously, bump elbows and catch hands, and brush hips. 

The bands played loud and raucous, and Steve could feel it in his chest. The second band brought out a smoke machine. Steve finally felt a warm buzz from the alcohol start-up in his stomach, and he felt something in him relaxing. 

Then, the third band came out in the low lights to begin setting up the stage and instruments for their set, and Steve and Blake finished off their drinks. Blake left to get new drinks from the bar, and Steve turned back to the girls to check in, when Robin kicked his leg, squinting up at the stage. Steve looked between her and the dark, smoky stage in confusion before catching a glimpse of the form bent over at the front of the stage, untangling a wire to plug into his guitar.

Steve groaned.

Of course they were going to be here. The one time he’d been so sure he could avoid it - why had he been so sure? But there he was, wearing a filthy-looking black crop top and an old jean vest - was it the same vest he had put around Steve’s shoulders? His muscles cut under the stage light shadows, his hair was big and wild and shiny, thick boots stomping around, jeans tight and ripped in so many places more skin showed than fabric.

Corroded Coffin took the stage.

Eddie looked up while the stage lights were still low and scanned the crowd, almost immediately meeting Steve’s eyes - like he was drawn to him, looking for him. He quirked a dorky grin and winked - winked - before his expression suddenly changed, going dark, intense, almost glaring. Steve had never seen him look so heated.

In the same instant, Blake reappeared and slid his arm over Steve’s shoulder with Steve’s new drink in hand. Steve took it and sipped, heart beating hard as he still felt and returned Eddie’s unwavering look.

Finally, Eddie sharply pulled away, and Steve felt like he’d been released from some spell, able to glance up at Blake and murmur thanks for the drink.

Robin slapped his stomach, glowering at him. “What the hell?” She asked. 

“I saw,” Steve muttered back.

“What was that?” She asked. He shrugged helplessly. He could feel Blake’s curious gaze on the side of his face, and flat-out ignored the stage.

“Do you want to leave for this?” Robin asked. “We can come back after.”

Steve thought about it and then finally shook his head. “No. No, I can stay. It’s not a big deal.”

Robin looked at him closely, narrowing her eyes, but eventually let Michelle distract her.

“Ok.” She said, already turning away. “But we can leave whenever you need to.” Even with her attention back on Tiffany and Michelle, she angled her body a little in between Steve’s and the front. 

Blake’s arm tugged on Steve’s neck, pulling him close so he could lean closer to his ear.

“Is that your sort-of-it’s-complicated?” He asked. Steve cringed.

“Kind of, yeah. I’m sorry.” Steve answered. 

“Don’t need to apologize,” He said. “I’m not worried about it - you’re here with me , right?” Steve grinned up at him, feeling suddenly dizzy with heat and some overwhelming something fizzing in his chest. He wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol, the energy of the crowd, the way Blake had turned his attention to him in full, or the dark eyes that kept turning to him from the stage. Right before the lights came on, Steve wrapped his hand around Blake’s wrist where it lay along the curve of his neck, and he could’ve sworn Eddie’s lip twisted up into a snarl.

“You fuckers don’t want to hear me talk,” Eddie growled low into the mic, coming up on it aggressively, lips brushing it. “Let’s get to work.”

The sound was enormous. It felt like it was pushing against him, trying to bowl him over. His skin tingled all over, broke out in goosebumps, as Eddie’s voice (pitched deep) screamed into the mic, his guitar shrilled, Gareth beat steady on the drums, Jeff’s bass shook the floor, Corey’s backup guitar shredded.

Mostly, Eddie’s face remained cast in shadow except for sluices of light as he looked up and put his lips back against the mic. 

The crowd came alive too, pushing back and forth against each other, some singing along with the songs they knew. It felt like everything in the place was straining against the walls.

Instead of strutting the stage like the other leads, Eddie had planted himself firmly midstage, claiming that space, letting the music move him when necessary, leaning into and back from the guitar, nimble fingers digging into, pulling, plucking, strumming the strings, face set grimly in determination. He wasn’t performing the way Steve had expected, the way he did on school tabletops or even as a DM. This was a blood-letting. This was a release. This was what he needed . 

Every time he looked up, his fierce, almost black eyes landed directly on Steve, and Steve felt it like a brand.

When their set was finished, as the crowd roared, Eddie pulled the guitar strap over his head with a snap and stalked off the stage without another word or look back.

Steve and Robin shared an incredulous look, and Steve tried to casually wipe his sweaty palms on his pants.

“Holy shit,” Blake whistled, pulling back a little but not taking his arm away. “Whatever happened with you two’s got that guy fucked up .” Thankfully, he was laughing, and not weirded out or uncomfortable.

“God, I’m sorry,” Steve said again. “It was… nothing happened. That’s why this is so -” He waved his hands in the air, at a loss for ways to describe it.

“Oooh,” Blake answered, like suddenly everything was clear to him now. Steve tried not to make his sigh of relief too noticeable. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to - but, I know you were hoping he wasn’t gonna be here, and after a set like that? You can vent if you need.”

Steve tugged a little on the bottom of Blake’s shirt. “I’d kind of like to forget about it, if that’s ok? Thanks for offering, though, that’s sweet.”

Blake’s smile grew playful and just a little dangerous. “That, I’m also more than happy to help with. Wanna finish that drink and go grab one more? Maybe a smoke? Let’s make sure we get you feeling good.”

Steve downed his drink in one go and let Blake lead him away.

As they came up to the bar, Steve slipped in front of Blake by a little. “I’m buying this round,” He told him, glancing up at him over his shoulder. Blake looked ready to protest, but Steve ignored it. 

He ordered their drinks, and maybe he put his elbows on the bar and leaned a little, maybe he felt the sliver of skin that showed when his sweater pulled up a little. He thought it had probably worked, with the way that Blake leaned next to him, sideways with just one elbow on the bar, and quirked a lazy eyebrow his way.

While they waited, Blake pulled his pack of cigs out, patted the box upside down against the palm of his hand, then shook two out. He handed Steve one and then tucked the other behind his ear. 

Once the bartender came back, took Steve’s dollar bills, and handed them their drinks, they moved back outside, getting stamps on their hands to show they’d already paid to get in.

Blake motioned with his head that they go around the side of the building for a little more privacy and then they settled next to each other, leaning back against a back wall, and he lit their cigs. Steve took a deep breath.

“Did I mention you look real nice tonight?” Blake asked with a hidden smile curling at the edges of his words. Steve pretended to think about it.

“Huh, I don’t know…” He said. Blake huffed a laugh, still playing with the lighter.

“Oh no, well I guess I need to be more memorable about it…” He said, moving to lean an elbow against the wall above Steve’s head and shift almost in front of him.

Steve looked up impishly. “Yeah?” He asked. Blake nodded but didn’t speak. Steve looked down and ran a finger over Blake’s necklace. “I like this,” He told him. “What’s it mean?” There was writing engraved on the circular pendant, but it looked like it was a different language, from what he could tell in the low light.

“Ugh, fuck off -” A hissed grumble came from one side. They both whipped their heads around to look and - God, he really couldn’t catch a break - Eddie stood in the shadows, looking sweaty and uncomfortable. “Sorry,” He mumbled. “I’ll go.”

Steve was inclined to let him.

“You’re good, man,” Blake answered, pushing up off the wall but not moving too far away from Steve. “You come out for a smoke?” He asked, reaching back into his back pocket.

“No, I… don’t,” Eddie said awkwardly, turned partially away.

“You… don’t? Smoke?” Steve asked, laughing without meaning to. 

“Not anymore,” Eddie answered, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Since when?” Steve asked in disbelief. That had literally been Eddie’s whole thing. His whole image. Steve didn’t even know what that meant, that the guy suddenly didn’t smoke.

Eddie grimaced, and Steve’s mouth dropped open. Since… him?

“I just came out for some air, which appears to be… taken. So.” He turned back around.

“You were really good,” Blake called after him, but he’d already disappeared inside.

Steve smacked Blake’s chest lightly and let out a breathless laugh. Blake had the decency to look a little ashamed.

“Sorry,” He said. “That was kind of a dick move, huh?”

Steve agreed. “A little.” He said. 

“I didn’t mean for it to come off like such an asshole thing to say, they were really good…” He tried to save it, and Steve chuckled, patting him consolingly on his chest.

“You can go let him know that, if you want,” He joked.

Blake shrugged and seemed to really try his hardest to look sorry about it still. They smoked till both their cigarettes were about gone, joking and flirting and daring to lightly brush and tug at each other but nothing more now that they knew about that back entrance. 

Finally, they decided it was time to head back inside. Steve led them in, past the bouncer, and trying to get past the bar when Steve heard his name being called again.

“Harrington? Harrington!” 

Blake looked back at him questioningly, obviously having heard the shouting too.

Jesus. Jesus Christ. Motherfucker. What the fuck was his luck? What the fuck had he done to deserve this? He had just wanted a fun night to finish off fall break. Was that really too much to ask?

“Next time,” He told Blake loudly, “We go somewhere so far away from my hometown. How does New York sound to you? Miami?”

Blake laughed and tried to usher him forward.

“Steve! Harrington!” The voice kept calling behind him. He shook his head, trying to keep pushing forward and get lost in the crowd.

A hand grabbed his shoulder and wrenched him into a hug. 

“ Steve! I knew that was you, you bastard! Long time no see!”

“Hey, Hagan. How’s it going?”

Chapter Text

The day of the concert - way too fucking early - there was a knock at Eddie’s trailer door. Because he was a human being, Eddie ignored it, rolled over, and tried to go back to sleep.

Wayne was not so reasonable. 

His uncle got up and shuffled to the door and let whoever that monster was into their home , which naturally led to banging on his door.

“Fuck off ,” He yelled and covered his head with his pillow.

Contrary to his request, the door opened and someone walked in.

“What the fuck? You’re still in bed?” A familiar whine pierced the previously cozy atmosphere of his sanctuary. Footsteps stomped over to him, and then his blanket was ripped off and cold air rushed in.

“I swear to God, Wheeler, I’ll scoop your eyeballs out, deep fry them, and feed them to your cat.” Eddie hissed. “Get the fuck out.”

“Don’t have a cat. And I’m not leaving. It’s almost two! Don’t you have to get ready?”

“You don’t know how anything in the world works.” Eddie snapped. “It doesn’t start till 9:30, and we don’t go on for another hour after that. You think it takes me eight fucking hours to get ready?”

Mike tried to pull the pillow off his head but he gripped it tight.

“No.” Mike insisted. “But you need to get up, eat at least twice, shower, get ready, fix your hair and let it dry, practice, pack up, and be there early enough to set up, so you need to get moving.”

“Why the fuck do you care, shit stain?”

“That’s for me to know, and you to find out, you dick. Now get up.”

He abandoned the pillow, unfortunately, for something worse. A second later, Eddie felt a grip on his ankle, and suddenly he was falling out of bed and hit the floor with a crash.

“Goddamn mother fucker ,” Eddie yelped, having landed on something sharp that poked him in the ass. Turned out to be a pencil, which was now in half. “How do I get back on your bad side so you leave me alone again?”

“I’m sure you’ll think of something.” Mike snarked back. “In the meantime, get. Up.” He stood over Eddie, arms crossed, and kicked him until Eddie moved.

On his way to the kitchen for breakfast, Eddie stopped and looked behind him.

“Did you say fix my hair ?”

Mike nodded like that wasn’t the weirdest thing he’d heard since the interdimensional space monster talk.

“Yeah, I brought some of Nancy’s products.”

He motioned to a box on the couch, which was full of hair care products.

Eddie looked between Mike and the box and eventually just groaned and stomped to the kitchen. He was hungry.

He wasn’t sure how, or why, but Mike became his personal stylist that afternoon.

He read the directions on each bottle of hair product to tell Eddie how to use it.

He sneered and dismissed four of the outfits Eddie tried to wear and finally pushed him aside to pick one out himself. 

He had brought makeup. Makeup . To try and convince Eddie to wear eyeliner. It was the only thing he successfully vetoed. 

He dodged every single one of Eddie’s attempts to figure out why the fuck he was doing any of this with the finesse and style of a seasoned politician (or a little brother), to the point that Eddie just gave up and went along with it. That was typically how it went with this crowd, anyway.

Finally, Eddie was allowed to sit down on the couch for a little while before heading on. Before he left, he gave Mike a sarcastic salute.

“Well, you run a tight ship and I hated every minute of it, but I’m off to play for a whole forty people instead of the usual fifteen, so I gotta bounce.”

Mike flipped him off as he left.

It was… not forty people. There were way more than forty people in this crowd. It was officially the biggest show they’d ever played, and Corroded Coffin huddled backstage as people bustled and scurried around them, all collectively shitting their pants.

“We’re screwed,” Jeff said mournfully, looking practically green. He’d always been the worst with nerves.

“Your hair looks good, at least,” Gareth said kindly, trying to lighten the mood. Corey snorted.

“Yeah,” He said in a princess voice, “And it smells like coconut!”

Eddie rolled his eyes and darted between moving people to the edge of the wings, peeking out to look at the crowd. The guys all bickered behind him. There were only five bands playing in total, and they were mini sets. Each band could play up to four songs - they had only chosen three. 

The crowd looked pretty young, surprisingly, and a bizarrely mixed bag: some obvious concert pros, dressed in gross faded band tees and sweatshirts, shoes that were falling apart, standing around looking bored and drinking heavily. 

Others looked a little wet behind the ears, bunched together in tight huddles and tittering to each other. A lot looked like they’d taken this opportunity to turn this place into their own fashion show, which - good on ‘em, any other time, but it definitely told Eddie that they didn’t know what a gross greasy spoon The Hideout was.

At one point, there was a flash of red in the crowd that caught his eye, and he looked a little closer. Was that… Robin?

He fought past the sinking feeling in his stomach as he scanned the crowd to find her again.

That could really only mean one thing…

And there he was. 

Steve stood close by, too, looking sleek, black sweater and brown jacket bringing out the warm tones in his skin and eyes, and the blonde streaks in his hair. He looked comfortable, at ease, laughing and gesturing emphatically. 

He and Robin were with other people that Eddie didn’t recognize. He wondered if they were friends from school. Two were girls, sticking closer to Robin, cool and each somewhere between cute and drop-dead gorgeous. The other, tall and suave, pushing pretty wavy hair out of his face, was a guy who had all his attention dripping on Steve. 

Ice.

Eddie’s insides were ice.

He watched in glimpses through the crowd as they mulled and parted and converged. Steve held up the guy’s wrist delicately and looked at it. The guy pretended to fall against him, and Eddie watched as a little bit of the drink in Steve’s hand sloshed over the edge of the cup, though he was none the wiser. Steve laughed at him. He made Steve laugh. He touched Steve’s hair. 

Fire.

Eddie’s insides turned to fire, the kind that burned and felt cold. 

Someone tapped him on the shoulder, courteously and then a little harder when Eddie didn’t - couldn’t - respond. He finally wrenched himself away and stalked further backstage, out of the way of the first band, and right past Gareth and the rest of the guys. 

He threw himself against the wall finally, crossed his arms tightly against his chest, and glared into the darkness backstage.

That must be Blake . He’d told himself he could be fine with it. Even now, he knew he had to be fine with it. He’d made his bed and all that. It didn’t mean that he could stop the image of Steve gazing up at that guy, of that guy touching his hair and joking with him, making him laugh, from being burned into his eyelids so he saw it again every time he blinked. He felt… He felt everything . He felt it all too much. He couldn’t handle it. 

He tried to glare harder into the shadows backstage, but all that happened was that his eyes adjusted slightly so he was glaring at dusty cords and wires and curling up floorboards.

The band out front started playing, and he was glad for the music, which from back here just sounded like steady bass, screeching, and noise . It rumbled up and into his ribcage.

The first band was clearing off the stage and the second one was coming on when Gareth came around to find him. He could tell because he recognized the dirty sneakers that came into his view.

“What’s up with you?” He yelled over the music. “Nerves?”

Eddie shook his head. “Steve’s out there.” He answered, not looking up.

Gareth moved around to lean against the wall with him. “Well, that’s ok, right? It’s cool that he’ll get to see you play.”

Eddie pinched at his bare arm. Fucking Mike.

“There’s a guy with him - that Blake guy, probably.” He said. He sounded miserable, even to himself.

Gareth paused again, then patted Eddie’s shoulder. “That’s gotta be ok with you, too.” He said, not meanly. It was just a reminder. “You have to be ok with that too, Eddie. Right?”

Eddie bit the inside of his cheek and chewed on it. Finally, he nodded. 

“So we go out there and have fun. Give ‘em a good show. Blow this fucking battle right out of the water, be glad he came by and be friendly if we bump into him, then just take our money, and go ham at the record place tomorrow.” Gareth lined it out, a cheery smile in his voice. Eddie knew he was trying to cheer him up. Knew he was trying to make him feel better. He just couldn’t stop thinking…

This regular ass guy out here didn’t know Steve. Would Steve show him… show him his scars? Would this guy think to take care of him when rain moved in and Steve’s scars and joints and old injuries got achy? Would he take care of him ? Would he help Steve with his nightmares like Steve had helped him? 

Gareth could probably somehow tell that he’d started spiraling again because he elbowed Eddie in the side and told him to come on.

This was all Mike’s fault. Motherfuckin’ Wheeler.

He grumbled and followed Gareth out. 

Eddie and the guys pushed and punched at each other, bouncing on their toes and shouting through the end of the second band’s set to loosen up and get ready for their own. They had all taken shots while Eddie had been sulking behind them, which was honestly a nice gesture. He wasn’t too mad that he’d missed out on the half-full bottle of Jaeger that now sat against the wall. They took up their instruments from where they were sitting in their cases along the back wall and moved out onto the dark stage once the other guys had moved off, toeing around carefully and setting up what they needed.

Eddie tried to keep his head down and focus on what he needed, pulling out the cord to plug his guitar into the amp and trying to untangle it to give himself enough lead. Nerves were pooling in his gut and the tips of his fingers, making his head go fuzzy. He felt some of the crowd’s eyes on him, but he ignored them. 

He was there to play. He was there to get this music out of his body. He was there to crush this fucking competition and win a couple bucks. It couldn’t be that hard.

Without meaning to, and before he could stop himself, he raised his eyes again, back to where he had seen Steve and Robin and their group. Blake wasn’t there.

Almost immediately, he met Steve’s eyes. They were normally amber-colored, but now, in the dark light of the bar, they were more like chocolate or coffee. They were also opened wide, in shock and surprise. He definitely hadn’t known Eddie was going to be there. 

He was going to kill Wheeler. 

Still, he couldn’t help the smile that stole over his face when he looked at him, and when Steve looked even more surprised but started to smile back like he couldn’t help himself either, Eddie felt a sudden rush of excitement and giddiness that he winked. 

A dark green figure came up behind him and he glanced up and over Steve’s shoulder to see Jawline come back and drape his arm around him, handing him a drink that Steve took easily. The guy didn’t notice that Steve had been looking elsewhere and definitely didn’t bother to look up at the dark stage to see Eddie. His eyes were zeroed in on Steve, only occasionally flicking over to the girls on their left. It was like he was enamored . 

His arm wrapped around Steve’s neck, too close to the delicate, barely-there scar ring that Eddie knew Steve had hidden with the sweater that lay a little higher on his neck. Jawline didn’t know that. Eddie’s fingers itched to pull his arm away. He didn’t want him to touch those scars. Didn’t want him to hurt Steve. 

Didn’t want him to hurt Steve like Eddie had. 

That was enough to break him out of it.

He turned away and looked at each of the guys once, then turned back and the stage lights came on, blinding him just the way he needed.

It was time to let the music take over.

The stage lights were hot, and the intensity of his nerves and anger and desperation, the sounds he was wrenching, ripping, and yanking from his guitar, the pounding of the bass and the drums, the grating of his vocal cords as he let himself scream, made sweat well up and spill all over his skin. Sweat dripped off of him, wetted his hair, made pieces stick to his skin.

The people in front of the stage were good as dead to him now. They were inconsequential. He couldn’t see them, didn’t let himself hear them, didn’t worry about them, didn’t think about them. He had a job to do, so he did it. Paid the toll to the music gods.

When they were done, and the last note had rung out, he walked right off the stage with sound hammering at his ears. The guys followed and danced and leaped up around him, and he caught pieces of it - talking about how that had been their best yet, how they had felt the energy , how they had gone together so well and they knew they could do it. 

He clapped them on the backs and even shook the hands of a few people who came up to them backstage, but honestly, the stage lights had burned stars into his eyes that hadn’t really gone away yet, and it was still too dark anyway, for him to be 100% sure of who any of them were. 

He felt emptied, a little. In both good ways and bad ways. There was an exhaustion in his bones after letting all of that out that went deeper than just feeling tired. He felt his eyes linger on the green liquor bottle that the guys had left out for too long. So, he laid his guitar down in its case, grabbed his jacket that had fallen behind the case, and held it in his hand as he walked down the corridor and out the back door to let himself out into the alley.

The cold October air hit him like a wall that he passed through gratefully, instantly turning his sweat into ice droplets. He shook the hand that wasn’t gripping his jacket, thinking he’d kill for a cigarette, and rounded the corner, wandering toward the parking lot to walk off the craving, and ran smack dab into them .

Blake had Steve up against the brick wall, though to their credit nothing crazy was going on, and they pulled apart casually enough and with cigarettes halfway through being lit that it could have been brushed off easily by someone who didn’t know .

He couldn’t help it, muttering, “Ugh, fuck off ,” because that was just how his life was going, right? And the stricken look on Steve’s face jarred him back into the present, back to what was really going on, back to his proper place , and he offered to leave.

Blake, the utter, insufferable asswipe, actually seemed like a decent person. He had a nice, deep, resonating voice, and offered Eddie a cigarette and then complimented Eddie on the performance. 

He really shouldn’t think that way, that he’d be happier if Steve was with a truly despicable person. He didn’t think that way, not really. 

It was just that Blake was hot, and seemed nice enough, and also had both of the things that Eddie wanted more than anything at that moment, and Eddie couldn’t have either of them. That was all.

He turned back around and crunched down the alley, fists tightening inadvertently as he heard the two behind him start to laugh again. This was going to be a long fuckin' night.

Chapter Text

“How’ve you been, Stevie?” Hagan’s hot breath, smelling like stale cigarette smoke and alcohol, blew in his face as his arm tightened stiflingly around Steve’s neck. “Feels like it’s been forever .”

“Oh, ya know,” Steve answered noncommittally, trying to casually move out of his grip. Just move on, just get out, don’t make a scene, don’t start anything.

“Can’t believe I caught you! And you saw Munson and his lame little posse up there, right? It’s like a whole reunion .” Tommy chuckled, pulling Steve back in when he tried to move away. Steve watched Blake shift awkwardly from foot to foot, obviously wondering if he should intervene, but Steve avoided meeting his eyes. “What do you say? This’s got me feeling like reliving the glory days, right? I think I want to play a round of Hunt the Freak.”

Steve kept his face carefully blank. Normally, as far as Steve knew, Tommy had always been pretty spineless. He could spew filth, and come up with some real nasty shit to say that would crawl under peoples’ skin. But… He wasn’t sure. Maybe he had more of a radar for danger now, or maybe he was just being paranoid, but there was something about the energy radiating off of Tommy now that set Steve’s teeth on edge. 

“Come on, man. We’re too old for that shit. Leave ‘em alone.” He finally pushed more forcefully away from Tommy’s body, and Tommy let him go. “I’m serious, Hagan. Don’t start anything.” Subtly, Blake put a hand on Steve’s back, staying angled behind him.

Tommy rolled his eyes. “God, I forgot how fucking boring you are when you aren’t wasted. Steve’s friend, do me a favor and get him liquored up, yeah? You’ll thank me, anyway. It’ll actually make him fun to be around.” He snorted a laugh. “Who’s this anyway, Stevie?”

Blake gave an awkward, uninviting smile. 

“A friend from school,” Steve answered shortly. “Anyway, it was… good seeing you, we’ve got people waiting -”

“School! You mean you found a college that let you in?” Tommy belly-laughed. “How much did your dad have to pay to make that happen?”

Steve shot him a dismissive, tight-lipped smile and started turning away, pushing Blake around, especially as it looked like Tommy still had things to say.

“Thought for sure I’d find you waiting tables or something, now that you aren’t scooping ice cream balls,” Tommy joked, clapping a hand on Steve’s shoulder and pulling back. “Where’re you going , man? I’m talking to you.”

“I told you, Hagan, we got people waiting for us. I’ll see you around.”

“So what? I do too. You can wait two minutes to catch up with your old pal before going to get your dick wet, can’t you?” Tommy joked. “Speaking of, the only reason I came here’s because they don’t get bent outta shape about how legal your chicks are, know what I mean? Carol and I are done-zo, by the way . I’ve got a sweet piece here tonight. High school babes get ten times hotter when you don’t have to listen to them talk all day, you know?” Had he always been this slimy? Steve felt his skin crawl.

Steve spun back around to gawk at him. “ Jesus , man, what the hell? That’s so gross -” Tommy laughed that annoying, fly-buzzing laugh.

“You’re such a prude , Harrington. Get over yourself.” He said, rolling his eyes. Tommy glanced away and Steve started pushing Blake back toward where the girls were waiting. “Hey, there’s one of those freaks now! Come on, let’s have some fun, get your blood pumping.”

Steve gritted his teeth and glanced back. Blake tried to pull him on.

“Come on, Steve, let’s just get moving. We’ll find the girls and pretend none of… whatever that was… just happened.” Blake tried to console him.

Steve’s face fell. “I’m sorry about that,” He said. “He was an asshole I went to high school with -” He scanned the crowd to see where Tommy had ended up, feeling the ever-present need to keep tabs on him. 

There he was. He had Jeff cornered against the bar, shoving two fingers into his chest, sneering into his face. Jeff flinched away from him, pushing himself back against the bar. 

Steve was already moving.

“Steve, no - I think that’s a bad idea -” Blake tried, but his voice was already fading behind him.

On his way, Steve glanced around and finally met Gareth’s eyes. He was on his way to Jeff, too, Corey hot on his heels. Gareth looked panicky, Corey looked grim. 

Steve nodded at them and sped up so he got there first. He gripped Tommy’s collar and wrenched him away from Jeff. As Tommy staggered back, Steve gave Jeff a pointed look and motioned to the side with his head, telling him to get lost.

Then, Steve turned around to Tommy quickly. He wanted to keep Tommy’s attention on him , no one else.

“I told you to leave it, Hagan.” He said. The people around the bar pulled back to make space for them. Tommy looked at him, delighted, mouth curled into an open smile.

“ There he is,” Tommy exclaimed. “You wanna try me on for size, Stevie? Remember what happened last time ?” He asked.

Steve did remember. He still felt that roiling anger, the disbelief when he realized that the people he thought were his friends were so hopelessly miserable and mean . He still remembered how the unyielding metal of his car door had dug into his shoulders, how his head had been pounding, and how the blood drying on his face had cracked and pinched.

“You knew you couldn’t stand up to me then. You knew you couldn’t fight me then. Wanna try this time, and see what happens?”

“I’m not gonna fight you, Tommy. Nobody’s fighting anyone. Walk away.” Steve answered.

Tommy pouted and then snickered, starting to pace back and forth in front of Steve. “Aw, that’s not gonna happen this time, buddy. This time, I think I need to teach you a lesson.”

Steve rolled his eyes, surreptitiously glancing around. Gareth was standing on the edge of the crowd nervously, obviously trying to be ready for when Tommy inevitably threw that first punch. Jeff and Corey were behind him. Blake was nowhere to be seen. The rest of the crowd watched through hungry glances and side eyes.

“Come on, Harrington,” Tommy crowed. “Put ‘em up.”

That was the only warning he got. Tommy’s arm swung. He ducked and sidestepped. 

“ Stevie, Stevie, Stevie, stay still and let me hit you .” 

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Blake’s tall figure reappearing with the girls. He shot Robin (who looked frantic) a warning glare and shook his head. Why the fuck had Blake brought them into this? Maybe he thought Robin could talk Steve out of this better than he had, but all Steve could think about was danger, danger, danger, keep Robin out of it.

He continued slowly sidestepping, and Tommy followed him cockily, walking around and around. He bounced on his toes excitedly. 

Steve’s mind was racing. He didn’t think he would just be able to walk away from this one. Maybe if someone got staff and complained, they would kick them out - but what would they kick them out for right now? Walking around each other? If he turned his back on Tommy, he’d have his ass handed to him. He didn’t want to knock him out though. And anyway, there was a good chance he was losing this fight even if he tried. The alcohol in his system, while not totally handicapping him, made him have to focus hard.

Tommy faked a lunge toward him and he hopped back, making Tommy cackle.

“Look at that, you’re fun when you’re scared, too!”

Steve glowered. He didn’t think about it, just took a heavy step forward and swung. His knuckles connected with Tommy’s cheekbone. Tommy’s head cracked to the side and then shot back to look at Steve, and there was a change that came over his face like something in him had gone suddenly sour.

He charged at Steve, ramming his shoulder between his ribs, and everything erupted. The crowd pushed back, away from where Tommy was pushing him. Gareth rushed over to them, shouting above them, but Steve couldn’t tell what the words were as he lost his footing and Hagan drove him into the ground.

They grappled on the floor, Steve trying to regain his footing and Tommy trying to get fully on top of him to sit and pin him there. 

Tommy punched his side two, three, four times in quick succession, leaving him cringing away and breathless. Then, he grabbed Steve’s sweater in both hands, lifted him up off the floor, and slammed him back down, clipping his head on the seat of a chair. 

Pain pierced his skull and he lost focus, clutching the back of his head so that Tommy could settle his full weight on top of him and swing his fist.

The first hit landed up under his jaw, making his teeth click together and tingling heat bloom before the hurt followed. The next landed on his eye socket.

The sounds of all of the people around him roared up, and blood rushed past his ears thunderously. While Tommy brought his arm back for another swing, Steve twisted, grabbing Tommy’s thigh under his knee and bringing it over with him, throwing him off. 

He snarled and scrambled up off the ground, ready to go back in, when a different hand grabbed his arm and pulled him forcefully away. Panicked, he looked over, ready to start swinging again, but he met Gareth’s wide eyes and let his arms drop, let himself be led away.

“Come on, man, come on, get outta here.” Gareth was telling him. Obviously, he had called over a bartender, a big, bald hefty guy who was stalking over to Tommy and grabbing him by the arm too.

“Knock it off, boys,” The bartender grumbled, glaring between them. “Any more and you’re outta here, got it?”

Steve took a deep breath and nodded. Tommy grumbled. They parted ways.

When Steve tried to turn around and walk away, he stumbled, the movement making his head spin. Gareth caught him, supporting him with an arm around his back.

“Whoa, there, bud.” He told him. “Let’s go to the bathroom, ok? We’re gonna get you cleaned up.”

Suddenly he was swarmed, the girls and Blake and Jeff and Corey all clambering around him, asking if he was ok, creating a barricade between him and Tommy who was still glaring at his back. Robin danced around in front of him and took his face in her hands.

“ Steve ,” She snapped, dismayed, fingers careful on his skin. “What the hell?”

“That bad?” He asked her, pretending not to notice that there was a slight slur to his words. His head pounded.

“ Yeah ,” She hissed. “It’s that bad . Why would you -”

“Jeff was in trouble,” Steve mumbled as they all moved as a unit toward the back hall where the bathrooms were. “He was all up in Jeff’s space, I just wanted to - to draw him out. Didn’t wanna fight.”

Robin pursed her lips.

“Hey, Harrington,” Tommy screeched behind them. “Meet me outside to finish this, pussy. ”

Steve tensed up. He couldn’t tell how close Tommy’s voice was. Gareth’s arm tightened around him and guided him firmly onward.

“You’re ok, ignore him,” Gareth murmured in his ear. “Let’s just get you to the -”

They started rounding the corner to the restroom and ran into Eddie, who was coming out and shaking his hands dry. Eddie looked up at them all in alarm, then did a double take when his eyes landed on Steve’s face. His eyes widened and he took a few steps forward.

“Steve, what happened?” He asked, fingertips raised like they were going to brush over the throbbing, swollen feeling spots on his jaw and around his eye. He flinched back without even meaning to, and Eddie’s face grew stony, eyebrows drawing down. “ Who did this? ” He grated out.

Steve groaned as he shifted and Gareth’s fingers dug into the tender spot on his side where Tommy had landed those tight, hard hits. Robin caught onto it fast, ignored his protests, and lifted up his shirt, to display mottled bruises already coming up, puffy, red, and purple, on his side.

“What the fuck , Steve. Who. Did. This. To. You? ” Eddie repeated furiously.

Steve tried to shake his head, but Jeff was already peaking around his shoulder. “Hagan.” He reported. “Tommy Hagan’s here. He was all up in my face, trying to push me around, and Steve came and -”

Eddie shoved his way through them all and headed immediately back out toward the bar.

“Oh, Jesus ,” Steve hissed, pulling away from Gareth to follow him. He took a few steps, head still spinning. “Eddie, Ed - don’t -” He tried, but Eddie was already halfway there, shrugging out of his denim vest and dropping it on the floor. The muscles along his back flexed under the tanktop that was left, and his shoulder and arm muscles jumped, bare and highlighted under the low lights of the bar. 

“Hagan,” Eddie called out forcefully, voice deep and gravelly. Tommy had turned away and was starting to walk off through the crowd, but he turned around gleefully at Eddie’s call. 

“ Mun son,” He crowed, spreading his arms out.

Steve tried to go after him, to get back in between them, but Gareth caught up to him again and grabbed him, keeping a firm grasp on his coat.

“Let him handle this,” Gareth said.

“This ain’t gonna be like how it used to be, Hagan,” Eddie said. “If you want a fight, I’ll give you one.”

“Oh yeah? You gonna stand up better than Stevie did?” Tommy sneered, looking over Eddie’s shoulder at Steve and blowing him a kiss. 

“ You don’t touch him ,” Eddie rumbled at him. He walked evenly right up to Tommy, reared back, and drove his fist right into Tommy’s mouth with an animalistic shout. 

Tommy reeled back, arms windmilling, in shock at the force and reverberating strength of Eddie’s punch. He stumbled, righted himself, and tried to return the favor, landing a hit that cut the bridge of Eddie's nose. Eddie kept moving toward him relentlessly, pushing against his chest to keep him off balance and moving backward.

“ You don’t touch any of them .” Eddie continued, grabbing Tommy’s shoulders and pulling him down so he could hit his knee squarely into Tommy’s chest. 

Tommy scrambled, face bright red, and managed to cuff Eddie over the head, then clip his mouth with his elbow. 

Eddie kept his hold on Tommy’s shoulders, pushed him back up, and then headbutted him right between the eyes. Then he let go, as Tommy cupped his hands over his nose, which immediately began gushing blood. 

He picked up a chair next to him, hefted it up over his head, and brought it down on Tommy’s back. The guy finally collapsed. 

Eddie stood over him, heaving, as Hagan groaned, shifted pitifully under the chair (which had cracked a little but otherwise remained intact), but stayed down. 

“Alright,” Boomed the bartender who had broken up the fight between Steve and Tommy in the first place. He was leaning casually on the bar, watching Eddie work. “That’s done. Stop breaking my shit, Munson. Everybody out.” 

The crowd dispersed, desire for violence slaked. A young - way too young - girl came up beside Tommy and patted his arm, shoving the chair off and helping him up. She was shaking. As he groaned and climbed to his feet, he shot them all a venomous glare and opened his mouth to say something. When Eddie took a threatening step toward him, he shut his mouth again and let the girl lead him out.

Finally, Eddie turned back to them, and the overwhelming anger and danger that had been written all over him was all gone. He was still breathing heavily, there was a cut on his lip that was filling the seam of his mouth with red and trickling down his chin, and a cut on his nose that was welling up with blood too. His forehead glistened a little with sweat. But all that was left in his expression was concern as he moved back to Steve. Steve noticed that he was holding his right hand carefully, too.

“Are you ok?”

“Your hand, what -”

They said at the same time and then drew back. Steve carefully, slowly, reached out to take Eddie’s wrist, allowing him time to pull away if he wanted. Eddie didn’t, but let him take it and twist it up so that he could see better. Eddie’s thumb and first two fingers were bent and twisted grotesquely, and swelling up with purple.

“ Jesus , Ed. You need a hospital.” Steve told him. “Those are definitely broken.”

Eddie shrugged, looking away. “Guess I never really learned how to throw a punch. Figured the important part was just how hard I hit him.”

Steve snorted and let his hand go gently, then winced as his head throbbed.

Robin appeared at Steve’s shoulder. “You both need a hospital.” She said softly. “Let’s go.”

Steve turned back around to the rest of the group, seeking out their new friends. “I’m so sorry about this, guys - didn’t mean to ruin our night.” The three in the back looked pale, but instantly shook their heads.

“Blake told us - you were defending your friend,” Michelle said earnestly. “Don’t apologize. But do go get looked after. Do you want us to drive you?”

“I don’t want you all stuck at the hospital for that long. Blake, can you drive the girls home? Gareth’s got us, right?” Steve asked, looking to Gareth who nodded readily.

“Of course, man. I got you.”

Steve nodded, and they all dispersed. 

Gareth helped Robin, Steve, and Eddie climb into the back of Eddie’s van, then slid the door shut. Steve leaned his head back carefully on the seat and wished the roof of the van would stop spinning. Suddenly, he let out a little sound.

“The competition, you won’t be there when they say who won.” He told Eddie, rolling his head along the seat to look at him, where he was sitting barely visible in the dark light coming in from the van window. The blood on his face looked black, and when he gave Steve another one of his dorky smiles, there was blood smeared on his teeth, too.

“Don't worry about it, Steve. This was more important.”

A different kind of warmth settled over him and distracted him a little from the bruises all over.

Chapter Text

The drive to the hospital was quiet, except for occasional grunts and groans at bumps in the road. Eddie had climbed in first, to sit on the back seat closest to the other window. Then, Steve had climbed in with Robin hedging each movement from behind him, and she sat on his other side.

Every time Eddie tried to close his eyes, all he could see was Steve hobbling toward the bathroom, face wincing in pain, angry red patch along his jaw, mottled side. He kept feeling that engulfing rage, that frenzied anger, that anyone would do something like that to him . Why had he ever stopped punching that bastard?

He couldn’t help but look down at Steve, overtly aware of every jostle and movement that brought their thighs closer to touching, their shoulders closer to bumping, their elbows closer to brushing.

Steve’s head was leaned back precariously on the seat behind him but was angled toward Eddie too, eyes trained down - at Eddie’s hand. Eddie had to fight against the reflex to curl his fingers in at the attention, but felt a little flutter at it, too. 

Steve seemed alert, at least, though he was still grimacing. That had to count for something. 

There was a particularly vicious pothole in the road that made Steve’s head bounce against the seat, and he pulled up with a groan, hand shooting up to hold the back of his head. Eddie’s first instinct was to reach out and lay his hand against Steve’s hair, before realizing his dominant hand - and the hand closest to Steve - was out of commission. 

Anyway, Robin beat him to it, carefully threading her fingers into Steve’s hair and pushing his hand out of the way. She hissed sympathetically when she found what she was looking for.

“That’s a goose egg and a half, Bubba.” She told him. "When did that happen?"

"T-Tommy, he slammed me down on... on a chair. Clipped it good." Steve answered haltingly.

Eddie felt his lip snarl up without thinking about it, and looked back out at the dark road, observing the way the van's high beams took in tall rods of dead grass arcing over rumble strips and patches of dirt.

“You still feeling dizzy or anything? How’s your head?” Robin continued interrogating.

“‘S ok.” He mumbled in return. “Had some spots in my eyes before, but they cleared up. Head’s spinning a little, but it’s getting better too.”

Robin sighed. “Ok. That’s ok. We’ll get you checked out.” She kept her hand cradling the back of his head as they drove, letting him lean back again but only while she supported him.

They pulled into the hospital parking lot and followed the signs directing them around to the emergency room about ten minutes later. Gareth pulled them up into the ambulance bay, let them disembark, and then pulled around to park.

Robin helped them both get signed in and they didn’t have to wait long before a nurse came back calling Steve’s name to get him in and checked out. Brain injuries, and all that. Eddie tried to curb his anxiety, and hesitantly turned to Robin to help curb hers since she hadn’t been allowed back with him. 

With no small amount of relief, he met her eyes and she gave him a tired smile, instead of the look of hostility that he was expecting.

“He’ll be ok,” He told her. “Steve pulls through, right?”

She nodded, looking down and taking a deep breath, rubbing her hands up and down her thighs.

“Yeah, that’s kind of his thing.” She said, not sounding happy about it. He understood that. Steve shouldn’t have to pull through like this. Not enough for it to be his thing. “By the way… thank you. For standing up for him.”

Eddie nodded but didn’t know what to say otherwise. He’d do it again in a heartbeat? It had been an honor?

“He really helped Jeff back there.” Gareth offered, shifting awkwardly in the squeaky seafoam green plastic seat. “Steve, I mean. We all know Hagan’s a piece of shit. Maybe it wouldn’t have gone much farther than some taunting, but… it meant a lot to Jeff, what Steve did, too.”

Robin nodded, screwing her mouth shut like she didn’t know what to say to that, either. She picked at her jeans.

They fell silent again.

Eventually, as Eddie’s fingers went stiff from how swollen they had become, his name was called too and he was brought back to have his fingers set and wrapped tightly. Thankfully, even a partial cast wasn’t necessary. He still made it back out to the waiting area before Steve did. Robin was laying across two chairs, bent uncomfortably with her head angled down and her legs thrown over an armrest.

She cracked an eye open when he approached and made to get up, but he waved her off, so she settled back down. He took a seat across from her.

“Gareth went back to the bar, so they could load your instruments and everything up in the van.”

Eddie nodded in understanding. He hadn’t even thought about that.

“Uncle Wayne’s on his way from work. He’s my emergency contact. Does Steve have anyone? We can give y’all a ride home if -”

“Chief Hopper’s Steve’s contact,” Robin answered. “He’s coming.” 

“Ok. That’s… good.” He said awkwardly.

She yawned. 

The emergency room was deserted, this late at night. There was a crackly tv in one corner, playing a late-night news channel with the sound turned all the way down. He took a deep breath of the stale hospital air and leaned back, sticking his legs out and resting his bandaged hand on his stomach.

“Have you heard about how he’s doing?” Eddie asked in trepidation, scuffing the heel of his shoe back and forth across the tile.

“Oh,” Robin answered airily. “They’re telling me he’s fine. He’s had so many knocks to the head that they’re running through all their scans anyway. They just take forever. Monitoring for concussion, too, so it might turn into an overnight visit.”

Eddie bobbed his head, feeling something in his chest relax.

“I’ll stay, if it’s overnight. I’ll stay.” He said. She looked over him impassively but nodded.

They went quiet again.

The medicine they had given him was kicking in fully, and every once in a while he realized he just hadn’t thought about the pain in his hand in a moment. It was still there, just seemed like it was behind a veil, easy to forget. It felt more like a bruise now than the sharp stabbing pain with every heartbeat of before.

He swallowed, and looked up at Robin again, tracing her features, somehow both sharp and soft at the same time. She looked tired, her eye makeup mostly smeared off by now, her hair limp and all over the place, her clothing wrinkled and clinging to her.

She raised her eyes before he noticed and caught him looking her over, raising an eyebrow.

“What’s up?” She asked, not sounding guarded like he’d expected. He held his breath for a moment, trying to decide. He wished he could have bottled up some of the blind rage he had felt earlier, like when he’d taken that chair to Hagan’s back, for instance. He could use some of that liquid tenacity, that electrocuted adrenaline.

“Robin, can I tell you something?” He asked in a rush. No going back now.

“Sure,” She answered.

“I… I’m not going to tell Steve this. Not yet, at least. I don’t want him to think I’m just trying to make excuses or anything. I don’t want you to think that either.”

She turned her upper body around a little more to face him better, which he took as an invitation.

“When I was 16, I got my first really good fake. Like, not the kind I’d been using at dingy gas stations or anything, but a really good one. So I went out to Indy for the first time. I wanted to have fun, meet some new people, and I wanted to… explore. Test some new… theories that I had. You know what I mean?”

She nodded again, placidly, looking like she was tamping back an eye roll. He would have grinned a little at that if he wasn’t so damn nervous. Why was he so nervous? His palms were sweating, the back of his neck prickled…

He pushed on.

“So I met this… person. And we - we fooled around, you know, in the back of their car. They - I lost my v-card, all the way, the whole shebang. I, uh, it… it happened so fast, I definitely hadn’t thought that was on the table that night, and it wasn’t… great. It left me feeling… well. It wasn’t great.”

Cold, shivering, clenching. 

Tremulous nervous laughter, pushing.  

Anxiety.

Hulking, spreading, reaching shadows.

Eddie pushed back against the images rioting in his skull, picking at the hospital bracelet on his wrist to keep from pulling at the bandages.

“I still thought I’d made a real connection, you know? With this… person. I thought I could still make something of it, get the parts I’d really wanted out of it. I mean, I was 16, right? Them offering to buy me a drink had knocked my socks off.”

Robin lifted her feet off of the seat next to her so she could turn around to fully face him. He watched her feet light upon the tile but didn’t raise his eyes up any further than that. Couldn’t.

“So I asked if I could see them again, if we could maybe go out, and they - heh - they laughed in my face. Right in my face, like a full, big belly laugh. They told me I really didn’t ‘get it’ and kicked me out of their car and left.”

He hazarded a glance up at her, finally, to find her looking right back at him. Her eyes were wide, searching, careful.

“Eddie…” She said, voice low. “Are you… Are you telling me you were assaulted?”

His eyes dropped back down to the floor. There was an acrid taste in his mouth suddenly. He shrugged. “Eh, I don’t know. I don’t think so. It’s not that I didn’t want it - I mean, I guess I didn’t know what I wanted, to be fair. I never… told them no, right? So it wasn’t… like that.”

“Just because you didn’t - say no, doesn’t mean it wasn’t… coerced . Doesn’t mean you were asking for it.”

“Yeah… Yeah, I guess. But that wasn’t. It was more like there was this instant, halfway through, where I realized I was in over my head. It was too much. I hadn’t known what I was getting myself into. And I didn’t know how to tell - how to ask - how to make it stop. Right? So I don’t blame the guy - person . I mean. Not really.”

He still remembered the exact moment when it felt like he’d been submerged when it felt like he’d been drowning. He shook his head.

“That isn’t why I was telling you this. Listen, that night, I told Steve - that I wasn’t… that I didn’t want a relationship. And that was… sort of true. But it isn’t exactly that I didn’t want one. I just… ever since that time, when I was a kid, I didn’t think… those just weren’t for me. Relationships, I mean. They weren’t for people like me . People like… us. It’s too dangerous, and we can’t be… open about it, right? So relationships, feelings, aren’t for us. You know? All I could ever count on was random back alley hookups, of the clandestine variety, right? And those only pan out about 75% of the time anyway. You always have to be ready to book it out of there.”

He was rambling. He could feel it. He was losing the thread, couldn’t pick it back up again. He took a deep breath. 

“But… you all are the first people I’ve ever known - been friends with - who are… like me. And I don’t want… what I have, what I’ve been doing, all I thought I could get, for you all. You and Steve… You all deserve so much more than that. Coming at Steve the way I did, trying to push the way I thought this worked on him… that’s one of my biggest regrets. Maybe my biggest.” He took a trembling breath. “But it was my wake up call, too. So it’s… you all… Steve’s been changing me. Working on me. And I wanted to… say thank you. I guess. For being brave. For showing me that this can be… more for us. Too.”

His hands were shaking. He closed himself in tight, tensed all of his muscles, for fear of trembling all over. But he’d said what he’d wanted to say to her, what he’d been planning to say to her, for a long time. There was a kind of relief in that, too. 

“Eddie…” Robin breathed, and he hazarded another glance up at her. The kindness in her eyes felt like a harder hit than any Hagan had managed to land. It took his breath away. “Thank you for telling me.” She said simply. He offered her a watery smile.

She stood and crossed the aisle to sit at his left, and held out her hand in a silent request. Asking for permission. Awkwardly, he gave her his good hand, and she closed her thin ones around it, warm and dry and comforting.

“We’re all kind of a mess, aren’t we?” She asked after a while, and they both choked on laughter. 

About fifteen minutes later, Wayne walked in to find Eddie staring mindlessly at the silent television, Robin dozing with her head on his shoulder, looking a little worse for the wear.

Eddie’s eyes flickered up to his as he approached, and he gave his uncle a sheepish smile.

“Hey, Uncle Wayne,” He greeted softly. Robin’s eyes fluttered open and she sat back up groggily.

“Mr. Munson,” She greeted.

“Hey kids,” Wayne answered. “How’s your hand, Ed?”

Eddie raised it up to showcase the fancy, pristine bandages. “Couldn’t have wrapped it up better myself,” He boasted.

“Yeah, I see that,” Wayne answered with a grin. “You’re telling me about how this all came about on the way back. Ready to go?”

Eddie winced. “ Actually ,” He drawled. “Steve’s still getting checked out. I was going to stay till we heard an update, and then probably stay till they release him?”

Wayne sighed and sat down in a seat across from them.

“Oh, you don’t have to stay too, you can go on home - Chief Hopper’s his contact, I can… ride home with him?” Eddie asked again, looking sideways at Robin who gave him another slightly questioning nod. “Or… Or I can find another ride home. Whatever. I’ll figure it out.”

Wayne huffed a laugh. “Don’t sweat it, son. I’ll stay to make sure the Harrington boy’s alright too.”

Eddie and Robin both gave him grateful smiles.

“So why don’t you bring me up to speed on what you all have been getting up to?” Wayne asked casually, tucking his hands behind his head and raising his eyebrows.

Robin nudged Eddie with her elbow, and Eddie cleared his throat. “So, you see… Mike Wheeler convinced us to sign up for this battle of the bands, right?...”

Chief Hopper showed up thirty minutes after that, looking admittedly frazzled in regular jeans and a half-tucked work shirt, scruffy from sleep. He made a beeline over to the other three, who had settled in as a comfortable group since Wayne’s arrival.

“What the hell happened?” He asked gruffly. Eddie thought for sure it felt like Hopper was only asking him. He felt the Chief’s eyes lay on him heavily, like he just felt in his bones that it was Eddie’s fault. Eddie felt like there was a layer of grime all across his skin.

Wayne put up a hand placatingly. “We’ll get you all caught up, Chief. But first, know that we just got an update not five minutes ago. Your boy’s fine, he’s being released as soon as he gets dressed again. The scans came back clear. They’ll still want you to monitor him the rest of the night just in case, but he’s ok.”

Miracle of miracles, Eddie watched as Wayne’s comforting news actually made Hopper’s shoulders drop a little. He still remained standing, arms crossed and peering around the room carefully, but the panicked ire had lessened in his eyes. 

Robin was halfway through her own retelling of what had happened when the doors to the back opened and Steve hobbled out in his rumpled black sweater and jeans, carrying his jacket, with a butterfly bandage on his eyebrow, and a dark bruise fully cupping his jaw. His droopy eyes were tired but lit up a bit when he saw everyone waiting for him.

“...Hey, guys,” He said lamely, waving his hand with a new hospital-administered paper bracelet on his wrist.

Eddie raised his own wrist up to show his matching bracelet. “Look, we’re twins!” He said excitedly.

Wayne snorted hard, and Robin chuckled.

“Are you sure Steve’s the one that might have a concussion?” Hopper asked, deadpan.

Eddie didn’t mind all that, because he had made Steve smile.

Chapter Text

Dustin often thought of the Party (Extended Edition, to include everyone who had been involved in the Upside Down) as a fragile ecosystem, often in need of specific, careful support. Each person followed their own patterns and operated in fairly predictable ways, and any deviation could point to some kind of unbalance - sickness, unease, general foreboding.

This was why, when their regular Friday Game Night was moved to Monday, and was moved from the Byers’ house to Steve’s basement, at Robin’s request, no less, Dustin’s hackles were already raised.

Turns out, he was right to be suspicious because it was Monday night and Jonathan had just pulled down Steve’s driveway to park behind Eddie Munson’s van. Not only that, but he was the only one who seemed taken aback by this. Everyone else was just grabbing their bags and opening their doors.

“Hey, hey, HEY!” Dustin shouted, scrambling over Lucas on his right, Mike on his left, and Will in the passenger seat to pull their doors closed again. “Are we not going to acknowledge that ?” He motioned emphatically at the beat-up van.

“Eddie’s ride?” Jonathan asked, confused.

“Yes, Eddie’s ‘ride’. I don’t know how up-to-date you are, and this doesn’t really concern you, but Eddie’s supposed to be on our shit list. Permanently, as far as I’m concerned.” Dustin answered, peering around.

“Dustin…” Lucas began, sounding hesitant. Sounding… guilty?

“How come Eddie’s on our shit list?” Jonathan asked. “And whose list? Because -”

“ Everyone’s .” Dustin snapped.

“Jonathan, can you go on inside?” Will interrupted firmly, and Jonathan looked sarcastically dismayed.

“What? But I wanted the latest gossip,” He whined, already grabbing his keys and climbing out. Although Dustin ultimately agreed with Will dismissing Jonathan (for Steve’s sake, obviously), he belatedly tried to stop him because he remembered that he was their ride out. Will flicked his forehead.

As soon as Jonathan’s door closed, Mike whipped around to face Dustin, hands raised. 

“Listen, I know Eddie messed up. I get it. And I was on board with not talking to him, remember? But, but , he’s really working to fix it, and I think we should give him a chance to redeem himself.”

“A chance?! You all saw what we all walked in on, but Steve… Steve…” He was losing focus, not sure how much he should reveal. He didn’t want to betray Steve’s trust, but he had to make them understand. Plus, they were the guys . The original Party. They could be trusted. “He was asking me nerdy stuff so he could plan a date to take Eddie on over a week before it happened. He made Eddie a mixtape . A mixtape ! That was what he threw away that day.”

The guys all cringed at the news, as they should.

“That’s… that sucks, man, but I promise Eddie’s trying to make it all up to him. He even told me he likes Steve back!”

“Who says Steve still likes Eddie?” Dustin asked, voice… a little more shrill than intended, admittedly. 

Will went suspiciously quiet. 

“Even if we take liking him off the table,” Lucas butted in, “Eddie has been trying, with all his jobs and everything. He came over and apologized to me a while ago. I’ve been helping him work out!”

“He’s been coming over so our moms could help him learn to cook, and I heard from El that it was so that he could make Steve his favorite dessert. That’s nice, right?”

“He helped take care of Steve while he was sick,” Will said carefully.

Someone had taken his ecosystem, turned it upside down, and was shaking it like a snow globe.

“This is unbelievable!” He exclaimed, scrubbing his face.

“I heard from Max that he went sober after she told him to. They’re kind of close now.” Lucas said.

“El went over to talk to him, too,” Mike said.

If his eyes opened any wider, they were all going to get a good look at his optic nerves, because his eyeballs were about to jack-in-the-box pop out.

“I swear to God,” He said, “You all have lost your minds.

“Listen. Robin’s here, right? She wouldn’t have let Eddie in if she thought it was bad for Steve.” Will placated. “I know things got rough and he got hurt, but it’s been long enough that… I mean, I would want to move past it, at least. Can we just play it cool for tonight? You can look at it like a recon mission. Just keep an eye on everything, make sure it’s all ok.”

“Well, obviously I was the only one in the dark on any of this, so I guess I have to be fine with it.” Dustin spat, crossing his arms. The rest seemed to accept that, exchanging glances and shrugging. They all climbed out.

Dustin hesitated for only a minute. Realistically, he knew that Steve didn’t need him to… protect him. Steve was older, and stronger, and had… been around the block , as they say. Dustin just… he just wanted to. He wanted to be there for Steve. He wanted to feel like he was protecting him, the way Steve did for all of them. He wanted Steve to know that Dustin would stick by him, too. Through anything.

Plus… He realized he was actually feeling a little bitter about being the last one to know. All he had gotten from Eddie and Gareth was a half-assed apology just so they could try and save the campaign. His friends weren’t stupid: they wouldn’t’ve fallen for the same ploy… so had Eddie reached out to them sincerely? Why hadn’t he done the same for Dustin? At least tried? 

By then, the guys were shooting through the front door, and Dustin reluctantly got out and followed. He guessed Will was right. Surveillance wouldn’t hurt. 

When he got into the house, most of the noise was coming from the kitchen. Robin, Steve, and Jonathan had claimed the barstools along the island, peering over into the workspace of the kitchen itself. Dustin walked toward them, passing El, Max, Lucas, Mike, Argyle, and Gareth in the living room, and moving next to Will in the entryway to the kitchen itself.

Eddie, the man of the hour (sarcastic), was working in the kitchen, tongue stuck out and trying to chop vegetables and scoop them into a large bowl next to him, though he was struggling heinously, mostly due to his right hand being strictly bandaged.

“Whose idea was it to give him a knife ?” Jonathan asked. Steve had hidden his face in his hands and was peaking through his fingers nervously to watch, and Robin giggled next to him.

Eddie looked like he’d gotten into a fight, even though the marks on his face were fading.

Halfway through painstakingly chopping up a cucumber, a pot on the stove next to him boiled over and he shrieked, dropping the knife with a clatter and hopping over. Steve groaned.

“Are you sure you don’t want any help?” Steve asked, lowering his hands. Dustin did a doubletake and felt Will do the same next to him. Steve had fading marks on his face, too. Had they both been in a fight? Had they fought each other? Dustin gave Will a pointed side eye, but Will shrugged and shook his head, so this must not be something that most of them knew about. 

“No!” Eddie answered, dropping the pot on one of the burners that wasn’t on to turn around and point at Steve. “I’m doing this! Just because you’re in here distracting me and scrutinizing my technique doesn’t mean I don’t make a mean pasta salad, and I can prove it .”

Steve raised his hands up in surrender with a dorky grin. Robin waved at Eddie dismissively. 

“Go on, then, show us what you got. All I know is that Steve makes the best pasta salad that I’ve ever had, so good luck topping that.”

Eddie gaped at her, and Jonathan snickered a little as Steve went a little red.

“If this wasn’t a challenge before, it sure as hell is now,” Eddie exclaimed and turned back to stir the still-boiling pot behind him.

While Eddie wasn’t looking, Dustin snuck around to Steve's side and poked it to get his attention, whispering, “Where’d those bruises come from, man?” At the same time, Steve hissed and covered the spot he had poked, and Dustin’s eyes shot down. “What -” He began, and grabbed at Steve’s loose sweatshirt to pull it up. Steve’s ribs were all discolored with gross, fading yellow, green, and purple bruises. “What the hell?”

Steve rolled his eyes and gently pulled his shirt away from Dustin’s grasp. “My modesty , dude. Please.” He said, giving Dustin a grin that he was sure was supposed to be comforting, distracting. “It’s no big deal, I’m ok. Ok?”

“What happened?” Dustin shot back insistently, then turned his eyes pointedly to Eddie. “Did he do this?” He asked.

“No!” Steve answered quickly. “No, no, not at all. Listen, uh… Last weekend, I was out and got into it with Tommy Hagan. I don’t know if you remember him at all… Whatever. Long story short, I got into a fight with Tommy, and Eddie… uh… helped.”

“Okayyy?” Dustin said, even though he had… so many questions about that. “So suddenly we’re all cool with Eddie now?”

Robin patted Dustin on the shoulder. “Kind of, yeah.” She answered.

“And you!” He rounded on her. “I thought you were supposed to be the sensible one. How are you ok with this?”

She shrugged and winced awkwardly. “It’s… complicated, Little Steve. There’s been… a lot going on. Would it suffice to just say, trust me?” She asked. He gave her a flat look. “Yeah, that figures.” She sighed.

“Henderson!” Eddie called, excited, when he noticed him. Not that he had anything to be excited about, Dustin thought spitefully. He was straining pasta in a colander waiting in the sink, steam rising in front of his face. 

“Munson.” Dustin answered, shoving hostility into his voice. He felt a little spark of pride when Eddie cringed and swallowed hard. “What are you doing here?” He asked bluntly.

“I’m making pasta salad!” Eddie answered cheerfully, showing him the straining multicolored noodles. “We’re having pizza, don’t worry, but I figured our resident Mom over there would appreciate if we added some vegetables into her growing kids’ diets.” He grinned, winking at Steve.

Dustin glanced at Steve and took in the melty smile that stole over his face before turning icy eyes to Eddie, who pushed past it. Dustin thought about going back to the living room to sulk but knew that Gareth was in there, and didn’t want to deal with him either. Anyway, Steve smiling at Eddie like that proved that he needed to stay close to Steve and keep an eye on him since it seemed like the rest of the world had gone crazy. So, he stuck by Steve’s side and crossed his arms.

Eddie was a goofy wreck in the kitchen.

He wasn’t sure if that was just how Eddie was, if he was nervous under Dustin’s glare (he hoped it was that), or if (the worst possibility of all) he was putting on a show for Steve, who seemed to be eating it up. 

All Dustin knew was that if any of the rest of them was in Steve’s kitchen making that big of a mess, Steve would have absolutely lost his mind. 

Instead, there he was, sitting on his barstool and doing a terrible job of hiding his grin.

What did Steve see in this clown?

He thought, with no small amount of discomfort, about how he’d been Eddie’s biggest cheerleader at the beginning of all this. Steve had been the one who didn’t want anything to do with the guy at the start, and Dustin had been the one who had pushed for Eddie to become part of their group. But that was when he’d seen Eddie as this creative genius, this energetic, fierce, original, fearless, rebellious leader . He just… didn’t see him like that anymore. The illusion had been shattered.

Had he been indulging in a little good old-fashioned hero worship without fully realizing it?

…Maybe.

But now, Eddie was… just some guy. And Dustin realized he didn’t have a place for him anymore: he didn’t know where Eddie fit into their ecosystem. Apparently, he did, somehow. Apparently, Dustin needed to learn to account for his presence again. Needed to figure him out, not as some legendary figure, but just as… some guy. 

As much as Dustin wanted to write him off like he would warts or pimples - there, but unpleasant things you try to avoid and get rid of when they pop up - he took another look at the healing cut on Eddie’s nose and marks on his skin and bandages on his hand. He looked at the marks on Steve’s face, too, and thought about the bruises on his side even though they made his own skin tingle like he was hurt there too. Of course Eddie wouldn’t make any of this simple.

Game Night progressed, more or less, without a hitch. They pulled at the pizza and the pasta salad Eddie had haphazardly prepared - Dustin noticed that Steve only ate a bowl of the pasta salad, while he refused any - and ate standing around the kitchen to eat before descending to the den. Eddie pretended (or maybe he hadn’t pretended) to stumble when he saw Steve’s record collection and spent the first few rounds running his fingers over and pulling out records to look at them instead of playing anything, which was all well and good where Dustin was concerned.

Everyone else pulled out games and set up on either end of the pool table, on the coffee table, and on the floor to play.

Occasionally, Jonathan would shout record recommendations over to Eddie to pull out and start playing, and he always scrambled to find them and set them on the player.

Dustin kept a side eye on Eddie the whole night.

His constant surveillance was the only reason he caught Eddie making at least three false starts toward him as the evening wore on. Finally, Eddie approached him and nudged him with an unassuming elbow, giving him an anxious smile.

“Hey, Henderson. Mind taking a walk with me?” He asked.

Dustin glowered. That was the last thing he wanted to do. But, he couldn’t let Eddie think he was backing down. Couldn’t let him think he was a coward, as Steve’s last sane line of defense against him. So he nodded, and morosely followed Eddie back up the stairs and all the way out onto the back porch.

They stood awkwardly in the doorway, in the light coming out from the kitchen, and Eddie stared at the concrete between them.

“Well?” Dustin asked bitterly.

Eddie picked at his bandages. “I, uh… I just wanted to say I’m sorry, man. For everything. I know it’s been a long time, and I should’ve done this sooner. But. That’s all. I just wanted to apologize.”

Dustin squinted at Eddie in the dim light.

“What’s your angle this time?” He asked, crossing his arms.

“Angle?” Eddie asked dumbly.

“Last time, you wanted to save your game. The campaign you wrote. What’s your game this time? Are you just trying to get in Steve’s pants, or what?”

Eddie grimaced and pretended to gag, but looked a little too convincing for that to have totally been pretend. He rubbed the back of his neck. “Gross, don’t talk about your mother like that.” Embarrassing attempt at a joke, honestly. “But seriously, no angle. Except for the… the angle of friendship?”

It was Dustin’s turn to gag. “Oh, talk about gross . What was that? ” He asked, horrified. Eddie giggled and shrugged, shoving his hands into his pockets and rocking back and forth on his heels.

“Ok, ok, that was lame. It’s the truth, though. You guys… You guys are really important. I didn’t realize it till - well, till I fucked it all up, I guess. All of you - Steve, the rest of the guys, and you. You’re really important to me, Dust. So whaddaya say?” Eddie asked, thrusting out his good hand.

Dustin stared at the hand. Maybe he thought about his old hero worship. Maybe he thought about that hand playing guitar on a roof somewhere else. Maybe he thought about how Eddie was just some guy. Maybe he heard the laughter and arguing from everyone else in the basement and felt all the warmth from there. He had a lot to think about.

He started reaching for Eddie’s hand and then pulled it back, sticking his finger out at him instead. Eddie started dropping his hand, face falling too.

“This is probationary.” Dustin declared. “I’m not wiping any slates. You’re gonna have to prove if you really realize how important this is.” Then, he extended his own hand for Eddie to take.

Eddie grinned at him brightly, the kind of his that made his cheeks crease and eyes scrunch up and grabbed Dustin’s hand tight.

Chapter Text

Nowadays, Wayne split the grocery shopping with his nephew pretty much 50/50, and now Eddie had plenty of additions to the list, most of it crazy shit he’d never heard of before. So, too often now, he found himself hopelessly wandering the grocery store aisles and staring up at racks he’d never once looked at before, looking for ghee or allspice or parchment paper or basters or Crisco .

Still, he was trying to be supportive, and this was honestly the most tolerable of the wacky hobbies Eddie had picked up since he’d started staying with him. And every once in a while, it also meant he had some damn good food to eat, too. Say, every fifth recipe or so. And hey, he wasn’t saying shit: that was better than any of his poor attempts had turned out.

So he went to the store every other time they needed to make a trip and cursed and mumbled his way through the aisles, finding Eddie’s random ass ingredients, and paid for them, and brought them home with minimal complaint.

This week Eddie had sent him on the hunt for blood oranges , molasses, and maple extract .

He was currently standing in the produce section in front of four different baskets of oranges, trying to read the damned tiny lettering on the price tags when he heard something of a tizzy break out behind him. He ignored it at first, realizing that the writing was all abbreviations, and starting to wonder what the hell they would abbreviate blood orange to, when the tizzy behind him started calling his name. 

“Mr. Munson! Mr. Munson is that you!”

He turned around partially to look over his shoulder and caught a frizzy-haired short woman, plump and in an orange creamsicle-colored pantsuit, waving at him and trying to push her cart his way. 

She wasn’t paying attention and hit the stand for the little plastic bags on the corner, sending it rocking dangerously, but kept on, sending him an honestly dizzyingly sunny smile.

“Oh, I thought that was you!” She chirped when she made it to where he was awkwardly standing there, trying not to watch her without being rude and turning away. “Claudia Henderson.” She introduced herself graciously because he really couldn’t for the life of him remember her name.

“Of course,” He said after her reminder. “Mrs. Henderson, I remember - you’re Dustin’s mother, aren’t you?”

She nodded eagerly. “That I am! It’s good to see you, Mr. Munson. I hope all is well?”

“That it is - I mean, can’t complain. I should apologize, though, that you’re runnin’ into me while I’m such a sight.” He looked self-consciously down at his rumpled clothes and dirty work boots. Thankfully the cool air of the grocery had seemed to dry the pit stains he knew for sure had been there. He took the ball cap off his head and tried to surreptitiously smooth down his coarse grey hair.

She tsked and waved a hand at him. “Oh, you don’t have to worry about that, Mr. Munson. You look just fine. I just wanted to come over and wish you a happy belated birthday! I’m sorry I didn’t think to send a card your way at least!”

“Uh…” Wayne began, losing his conversational footing - which he had next to none of, to begin with.

“Your boy, Eddie, told us!” Claudia answered excitedly, smiling wide. “He’s such a sweetheart.” 

“Well, he has his moments, that’s for sure.” He tried.

She chuckled at that. Seeing as how she was a mother of a boy, herself, she probably related to it.

“Oh, I’d be more worried about him if he wasn’t a rascal sometimes.” She whispered conspiratorily. “But! How did you like your monkey bread? I hope I’m not spilling any of Eddie’s trade secrets, I just thought it was so sweet how he was so worried about getting it right since he told us it was your favorite .”

Wayne could feel how blank his face was. He knew how blank his face was. But he was absolutely not keeping up with Miss Claudia’s train of thought, not even a little. He gave a weak grin. 

“Ohh,” He said and felt like smacking himself on the forehead. How was he supposed to salvage that ? “You oughta know by now, Mrs. Henderson, once that boy puts his mind to something, not much can turn him off of it.”

“Don’t I know it!” She giggled, smacking his arm playfully. “It’s good, though, it’s good. So encouraging to see a young man with ambition like that, right? He’s been great at encouraging me to keep up in the kitchen, too!”

“I, uh… what?” Wayne asked before he could wrangle his tongue. He shook his head clear. “I apologize, I didn’t mean to -”

“Oh!” Claudia straightened up and clapped a hand to her mouth. “Don’t tell me - well, of course, he wouldn’t -” And then she devolved into giggles, leaning over her cart handle to support herself. “I’m awful , you can’t tell him I’ve spilled his secret. But of course, he wouldn’t tell you -”

Wayne felt himself starting to sweat again. “He hasn’t been getting up to anything… too bad, I hope?” He asked, sounding strangled.

Miss Claudia met his eyes with her own wide open, mouth falling into a round “o” of surprise, then started giggling again. “No, no, no! Your son - “ He didn’t correct her, not wanting to derail the train again. The boy was his son in every way that counted, anyway. “Your son has been spending an evening a week with me and Karen Wheeler. Karen is teaching Eddie and me how to cook!”

He felt his own mouth drop open.

“He’s a quick study!” She told him joyously. “He gives me a run for my money, at least, which could just mean we’re both hopeless in the kitchen. Beats microwave dinners though, right?”

Hopeless except to hang on and let her take him wherever she wanted this conversation to go, he nodded.

“I agree with you there. Makes way more sense why he’s always sending me on these grocery runs for all these ingredients I’ve never heard of before!” He tried for a joke, holding up the crumpled list in his hand. Thankfully, she chortled.

“I’ll bet!” She said. “Well, I’ll leave you to your hunt. It was good to see you! Happy late birthday, and tell Eddie hello for me!” She waved and then tugged her cart along.

“It was good talking, Mrs. Henderson.” He called after her, pulled his cap back on, and - not knowing how else to move on from that - turned back to the oranges.

All Wayne knew was his boy had some explaining to do.

When he finally made it back to the trailer, he had everything put away and was already sitting on the couch eating leftovers and drinking a mug of diet cola by the time his nephew made it back through the door. He had stopped drinking much around the house when he noticed all of Eddie’s stuff had disappeared, and would occasionally dip into his remaining stash, but usually saved his drinking for trips to the bar after work with some of his buddies. Otherwise, he was a cola boy now.

Eddie gave him a lazy two-fingered salute and bee-lined for the kitchen, where he started rifling around and slapping together a sandwich for himself. 

Wayne cleared his throat and Eddie shot him a quick, vaguely interested look, but otherwise continued peeling cheese singles out of plastic wrap. 

“So I ran into that Dustin boy’s mama at the store today.” He said casually.

“Oh yeah?” Eddie asked. “Mrs. Henderson?”

“Yep, that’s the one. She wished me a happy late birthday, which I thought was a little weird.” He answered, looking at Eddie out of the corner of his eye.

The boy finally stopped making his sandwich and went still.

“A little weird , considering my birthday isn’t till December. And then she asked me something about how I liked my monkey bread?”

If Wayne didn’t know better, he’d say there was a blush on Eddie’s cheeks.

“Huh,” Eddie said, voice high-pitched. “That’s so weird, I wonder… uh, I wonder where she got all that. You know how people like to talk,” He shrugged and tried to go back to making his sandwich. 

“True,” Wayne said, shoving a fork full of his own food into his mouth to hide his smile.

They fell silent for a minute, Eddie getting clumsier and clumsier in the kitchen, dropping the knife he was using to spread mayo on his bread two or three times, dropping the bag of lunchmeat right on the ground when he tried to put it back in the fridge, bumping his head on the top of the fridge when he tried to stand back up.

“She also said -” Wayne began, ignoring Eddie’s faint groan. “That you’ve been meeting with her and Mrs. Karen Wheeler to attend cooking classes ? Happen to know anything about that? Or is that just people talking crazy again?”

Eddie groaned louder and bent over so he could hit his head on the kitchen counter, letting his forehead bounce a couple times.

Wayne finally let himself have a little closed-mouth chuckle about it. 

“You know how people talk,” He told Eddie smugly, shrugging. “I sure woulda liked to try that birthday monkey bread you made me, since it’s apparently supposed to be my favorite , and all.”

“UuuUUUGH,” Eddie groaned. “Ok, fine , I may have asked Dustin’s mom to help me make monkey bread and then it turned into a - like - a - weekly cooking class. Last time I checked, you weren’t complaining about any of the stuff I’ve been making. And I know how many of my blueberry muffins you ate last week, so don’t even start with me.” He pulled himself back up to point at him.

Wayne raised his eyebrows and shrugged innocently.

“None of what I’m doing right now is complaining, I’m just curious , is all. Did someone else get my monkey bread, then?”

Eddie mumbled a bunch of words, but Wayne didn’t make out a single goddamn one.

“What was that?” He asked smugly.

Eddie grabbed his sandwich from the counter and bit into it forcefully, scowling over at Wayne with his cheek bulging with food, and flipped him off.

Wayne lost it, belly laughing. He grabbed the napkin he’d brought over from off the coffee table, balled it up, and tossed it at Eddie. It bounced off his shoulder.

“Come on, now, you owe me for that awful non-birthday conversation I had to have. What was that all about? Who’d you make the monkey bread for?”

Eddie mumbled again, looking down and kicking the cabinets.

“Huh?”

“STEVE.” Eddie shouted finally. “I MADE IT FOR STEVE, OK?”

Wayne let his laughs taper off, back to being confused again. “Harrington?” He asked. 

“Yes.” Eddie shot back.

“Wh… Why ?” He asked, flabbergasted.

Eddie tore another bite out of his sandwich, glaring at the coffee table, other arm tucked around him.

“To say sorry,” Eddie answered, this time in a small voice.

Wayne scratched his forehead with his thumb. Eddie was so… His nephew - his son - was a complicated kid.

“Because you couldn’t just… say sorry?” He asked. Eddie shook his head. “Alright.” He accepted, scraping his own plate clean, and finished off his mug of cola. He gathered up his dirty dishes and brought them to the kitchen. “Scooch,” He directed Eddie, who shuffled away and dragged the paper towel the remains of his sandwich were resting on.

As he was washing his dishes, his vision got a little clearer. 

Harrington was the kid Eddie was torn up about playing some kind of prank on this past summer. 

And apparently, he had descended into the den of the local Hawkins Housewives to learn how to make a dessert to tell him sorry. 

And he’d just gotten into a scrap this past weekend that ended in two broken fingers and one dislocated finger.

Interesting.

Listen. Wayne was a simple man, in his old age. He had a job to do, he did it. He liked his meat and potatoes. He took his hat off when addressing a lady. He had taken in his sister’s kid when she’d fallen on hard times and kept taking care of him when she’d never come back because it was what was done. He drove an old pickup to a factory job, got his hands greased up when needed, enjoyed a drink with the boys, and watched the game when he had a night off.

But he could roll with the punches. 

His nephew had come bowling into his life and he’d been rolling with the punches ever since. Some of Eddie’s… hobbies weren’t quite Wayne’s taste, but that would stand to reason, considering they weren’t the same person. 

He knew a lot about Eddie.

Probably more than Eddie knew about Eddie. 

Being a simple man himself, he had a simple ability to take a look at Eddie in all his flailing around and cut through to his heart. He would never claim to know what the kid was thinking but damned if he didn’t know what motivated him. At his heart, Eddie was simple, too.

He had had an inkling early on that Eddie was… different. But that didn’t mean that Eddie wasn’t just looking for love like the rest of the goddamn world was looking for love. Typical of him, he’d ended up on the more difficult route to get to it, of course. That just meant it’d look different for him, though. Not that it’d never happen.

With the puzzle pieces of Eddie’s last few months laid out in front of him, he was starting to put some things together.

“So… You got into that fight that got your hand all screwy for Steve, too?” He asked nonchalantly, putting his dishes on the old drying rack next to the sink.

“Oh, my god…”Eddie sighed around his sandwich. Wayne didn’t look at him, and he wasn’t a betting man, but he’d put any amount of money down on Eddie’s face having something of a tomato-ish hue to it. “Is this gonna be a thing?” He asked.

Wayne shrugged. “Dunno,” He answered noncommittally. “Is it?”

Eddie shoved the rest of the sandwich into his mouth and sprayed crumbs all over the counter to shoot back a mocking, “Dunno, is it?” 

Wayne raised his eyebrows, turning sideways to lean his hip against the counter. “Don’t remember you baking any treats for anyone before.” He said placidly.

Eddie swallowed his mouthful hard. Sure enough, he was bright red. “You’re lucky you’re so old, old timer.” He said threateningly.

Wayne snorted at that. “Or what, you’d break your other hand to show me?” He asked. “Show me what, exactly? Not to talk about your boy like that?” He teased.

This was already more fun than he’d expected.

Eddie gave an exaggerated eye roll. “Yeah right.” He said. “This isn’t an admission,” He said quickly. “But even if there was anything, the chief of police is basically his dad. Not exactly a match made in heaven.”

Wayne nodded in agreement. “I can see that. Very, waiting on his porch with a shotgun kind of a father figure.”

Eddie groaned again, covering his face. “Oh my god, Wayne, I should have guessed you’d be the worst about this.”

Wayne cracked another smile, spreading his arms wide in question. “How am I being the worst about this? I think I am being very calm and understanding about this, actually.”

Eddie shot him another glare, crumpling up his napkin and effectively spilling the rest of the crumbs that had been on it all over the place. “This still is not an admission. You don’t know anything.” 

“You’re right,” Wayne placated as Eddie stomped out of the kitchen. “I don’t know a single thing. Don’t even know when my birthday is, apparently.” He swept up the crumbs from the counter and wiped them in the sink.

“Shut it, Wayne!” Eddie shouted and slammed the door to his room.

Kids . Wayne grinned fondly and flipped the light off in the kitchen.

Chapter Text

Eddie was mostly awake when the phone started ringing Monday morning. Or, like, he had meant to get up pretty soon. That had been the plan.

So he stumbled into the kitchen, shirtless and in a stretched-out pair of boxers, and picked up the phone sounding a little more groggy than he might’ve intended.

“H’llo?” He grunted.

“Hi, is this Eddie Munson?” A bright woman’s voice chirped.

“Uh… yeah?” He responded, rubbing his eye with the heel of his hand.

“Great! Sorry to call so early,” She said, a smile in her voice. “This is Beth calling from Melody’s, the record store on the square. You interviewed here a few weeks ago?”

A jolt of surprise shocked him and sent his cloudy mind reeling, but his head still felt empty even though he was more awake.

“Oh, yeah, of course!” He tried again. “Um… hi!”

Beth laughed. “Hi!” She repeated, and he cringed, trying to quietly bang his head against the counter. “Well, last you were in, Chaz - who interviewed you - told me he let you know about our timeline, and how we needed to wait before taking anyone on. Thankfully, we made it! You wouldn’t still be looking for a job, would you?”

“No way -” He blurted out. “Oh, my god, I mean - yes! Yes, I definitely am.”

“Great! Then I’d like to officially offer it to you. Full-time, if that still works.”

Eddie giggled giddily. “Ho-ly shit ,” He exclaimed, without thinking at all, and then immediately backpedaled, mortified. “Oh - I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, that won’t happen again. I’m so sorry.” 

Beth chuckled again. “Don’t sweat it, Mr. Munson. Can I assume that means you accept?”

“Yes!” Eddie said, belatedly realizing how close that was to a shout. He lowered his voice to a more reasonable, professional level. “Yes, I accept, as long as you never call me Mr. Munson ever again.”

“Deal.”

Cloud nine. This was what cloud nine felt like. Eddie didn’t know what to do with himself. He’d gotten an actual job, selling music . He put the phone back down and stood, staring blankly at the far wall.

It wasn’t even 10 yet. He had plans, but not till 7 PM. What was he even supposed to do with the rest of his day? He felt like excitement had grabbed his brain stem and was shaking it, making his brain rattle around in his head.

Well, he had to start somewhere. 

He darted back to his room, threw on a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt, and his dirtiest pair of shoes, and then locked up and sprinted to the creek. 

It was cold out. Duh, in early October. Everything was mottled grey and brown, but in ways that were kind of comforting. The bare spindly branches of the trees stood stolidly against the faded blue skyline. It was early enough and frigid enough that the wind hurt his lungs every time he breathed in, and it was quiet around the park. He ran all the way through, dodging trailers and RVs, until he reached the edge of the park and his favorite little deer path down to the creek. He slipped and slid down the embankment, almost bit it at least twice, and finally hit the edge. 

The creek was quiet and still, brown with hidden green sheens and craggy rock plates, covered in a thin layer of ice at the edges. He followed it down a ways, further away from the park, and when he finally felt he had gone far enough, he reared back and yelled. Yelled as loud as he could. Maybe he was just imagining it, but he thought for sure that the overhanging tree branches shook at the force of it. He yelled till it gave way to laughter, fist pumped and glanced around even here to make sure no one was watching, and then jumped again.

The second jump, apparently, was too much. He landed on a soft, spongy layer of mud and his feet slipped straight out from under him so he fell, his feet sliding out and breaking the ice at the edge into sharp, shattered parts and plunging his shoes, ankles, and calves into icy water, and his hip hitting the squelching mud. 

He groaned at the hits he’d taken and scrambled back from the freezing water, pant legs flapping at his ankles. Laughing, he ran home. His shoes squished wetly the whole way back.

That night, he had been invited to join Steve and Robin’s study session honorarily, since he had mentioned to Steve at one point that he’d been working on writing stuff out for his next campaign. In preparation, he had already gone to Karen and Claudia for ideas on Brain Food, because like hell was he coming to this study session - the first hang-out outside of a big group - that Steve had invited just him to. 

Of course, this wasn’t just a him-and-Steve hang. But a SteveandRobin hang was a pretty important step.

After he had gotten back to the trailer, out of his wet and muddy clothes, and in and out of the shower, he went to the kitchen to gather up the things he needed to make what he planned to make.

When Karen had recommended oatmeal cookies, he had admittedly snarled his nose up more obviously than he had intended. He hadn’t meant to make a face, but come on. Still, she had managed to convince him. And anyway, Steve was kind of a health nut, so he’d probably go for those easier… So, oatmeal and banana cookies with dark chocolate chips it was. They didn’t look great. To be completely honest and upfront about it, they kind of looked like cat vomit. But they were really going to taste good, really , as long as he could duplicate the recipe just right. 

He had a whole platter of them to bring by the time he was done, and he started over just a little early because he just couldn’t wait any longer. Thankfully, Steve and Robin were already there. Robin answered the door, since Steve was still upstairs changing, and scoffed (good-naturedly, he thought) but took the platter with the mountain of oatmeal cookies from his hands. She led him into the dining room, which was right off the kitchen because they were set up at the formidable dining table, a hefty piece with inlaid art deco detailing along the edges. There were pristine grey placemats at each seat. Robin had a glass of water which was sitting firmly on her placemat, definitely nowhere near the tabletop. Eddie slung his drawstring bag off his shoulder and sat on the seat across from her, forcing himself to sit squarely on it and not right at the edge.

Robin set the platter down in the middle and then patted him on the shoulder, looking like she knew exactly how he was feeling.

“You’ll get used to it.” She said.

“Really?” He asked.

“No,” She answered, laughing. “I don’t even think Steve’s used to it. But setting up at an actual table helps him write. You want a water or a Coke or something?”

Steve came trotting in a few minutes later, already comfy in a baggy pair of plaid sleep pants and tugging a long sleeve shirt out so it lay better. Really quick, Eddie gave him a once over. The bruises on his face were healing alright. They didn’t look nearly as painful as they had even a couple of days ago, mostly mottled green and yellow shadows. It didn’t stop the quick pang that shot through him, but he looked away quickly. Steve pulled out the chair at the head of the table between Robin and Eddie and grinned at the piled plate of cookies.

They settled in easily, shooting jokes back and forth at each other. The jokes fizzled out, came and went, as they all bent over their own tasks and got to work. Steve took one cookie and nibbled on it the whole time, but Robin chowed down. Eddie fell into a happy medium and ate three or four.

Eddie tried… so hard to keep his sideways glances to the bare minimum, but… he couldn’t help it. Steve looked so soft, so at ease, in his slouchy shirt and slouching over to focus on whatever he was writing. His mussed-up hair was a little flat since it had been putting in the work all day. Eddie looked at the curve of his eyelids while Steve studied his paper. He thought maybe this was the nicest Steve had ever looked.

If the writing he got done was a little sappy… no it wasn’t.

At 9, there was another knock on the door. Robin got up to look at the clock in the kitchen, not having noticed the time.

“Oh, that’s my ride.” She said, gathering up her things.

Eddie twiddled his fingers at her and she stuck her tongue out at him, then pulled her backpack on her shoulder and kissed the top of Steve’s head as she passed. 

“See you in the morning, Bubba,” She said. She gave Eddie a look when she straightened back up that he didn’t quite understand, but made him feel a little off-center, and then walked out to meet her mom.

As the front door opened and closed, Eddie started awkwardly shuffling with his papers. “I can get out of your hair, too,” He said.

Steve looked up at him, surprised. “Oh! I mean, you can totally head out if you need to, but… you could… stay, if you wanted. If you still have some work to do, I mean.”

Eddie grinned and spread his papers back out. “Ok, cool,” He said.

A little while later, Steve sat back away from his paper and sighed.

“About done?” Eddie asked. 

Steve shrugged. “I can’t think of any more words.” He said with a wry grin. “It isn’t due till next week though, so I think I’m done for the night. How, uh… How has your writing been going?”

Eddie shrugged back. “Pretty good, I think I got some stuff I can use.”

“Nice,” Steve said with an open, supportive smile that made Eddie blush a little. He knew Steve didn’t give a shit about DnD. He was pretty sure Steve played up how much he hated it to make fun of Dustin and the rest of the kids, but he definitely wasn’t rolling to fill out character sheets in his free time. “Anyway,” Steve started again. “How, uh… how have you been?”

“Good,” Eddie answered honestly. “I - I haven’t told anyone yet, but I actually just got a job at the new record store in town today.” He tried to say it nonchalantly. He didn’t think new jobs were things people typically got so excited about… like, they were just jobs.

Steve’s face, though (bless him), lit up. “What!” He exclaimed and jumped up. “Why didn’t you tell us? We should have been spending tonight celebrating, not writing boring papers! Come on, this calls for a drink.”

He darted out of the dining room and into the kitchen, and Eddie sheepishly followed, trying to smother the smile off his face.

“You can’t buy anything yet - are you telling me I need to run to the store for my own congratulatory libations?” He asked as he found Steve again in the kitchen. Steve was already leaning into the fridge but pulled back to shoot Eddie a bewildered look.

“What the fuck is that? No, I was just gonna steal a couple beers from my dad. He usually thinks he forgot how much he drank.” 

“Oh, I, uh… I’m not drinking, anymore.” Eddie said haltingly, hating himself for every syllable. Steve was offering him something. Steve wanted to congratulate him for getting a job . How was he about to ruin that?

“Jesus, dude, I totally forgot. You told me and everything.” Steve somehow turned around looking guilty as hell, and Eddie was knocked off his feet again. 

“No, no, you’re fine! It’s completely random, it’d be weird if you remembered.” He tried to comfort him, but he still looked sad. Eddie thought about enrolling in clown school to figure out how to make him smile again. 

“Oh, let’s do this, then. How do you feel about ginger beer? Nonalcoholic. Dad keeps it around to mix drinks.” He offered, grabbing a couple bright green bottles in offering.

“Perfect.” Eddie answered, quick as anything.

Steve stood up, two dark bottles in hand, and leaned them both against the edge of the counter before bringing his fist down on top and popping the caps right off, letting them fly away and land with sharp tings wherever they ended up. The ginger beer fizzed up in answer, and Eddie knew how they felt.

“Show off,” Eddie muttered, and Steve gave him a disgustingly (read: hot) smug smile in answer. Eddie took the bottle Steve extended to him carefully and sighed. “Alright, well, do you have a sitting room or drawing room we should retire to before we start drinking?” 

“Yep,” Steve answered cheerily and slid onto the floor. “Right here.” He patted the tile in invitation. 

“Aha!” Eddie laughed, crossed his feet, and lowered himself directly into criss-cross applesauce. “Cheers,” He said, and they leaned their bottles towards each other to clink the bottoms before bringing them back in to take a gulp. The ginger beer stung in a delightful way, crowding up into his nose and burning his throat just right.

“Congrats, man. For real.” Steve offered. 

“Yeah, I’m excited. I get to sell Madonna albums to yuppies like you every day now.” He winked.

Steve scoffed sarcastically. “I bet you secretly love Madonna.”

“Yeah, you got me. I’ve got a tramp stamp tat with Open Your Heart lyrics and everything.” Eddie shot back, and Steve snorted.

“See? You even have a favorite song! Even though I prefer True Blue .”

Eddie would deny the shiver that raced through him at that till the day he died. They were not communicating through Madonna lyrics. He was not reading into a goddamn thing. Because if he did, he actually was going to end up with Madonna lyrics tattooed on him. On the backs of his hands, so he could look at them all the time.

“You would.” He said instead of the million other things he wanted to say, and they fell quiet and drank more of their beer. “So, Stephan , hot showers or cold showers?”

Steve looked at him, confused but with a little twitching smile that started at the corner of his mouth, and then shrugged. “It depends. Hot, unless I’m coming back from a run or something.”

Eddie grimaced. “I was afraid you’d say that.” He groaned. “Alr iiiight , I guess.”

“Does that make you a hot shower guy?”

“Yes, Steve. Because I love myself.” He answered staunchly, making Steve chuckle again. “If you had to fight any mythical beast and know you would win, what would it be?”

“Hm… A chupacabra, probably.”

Eddie’s eyes bugged out. “How do you know about El Chupacabra ? And you really thing you could beat it?”

“Yeah, dude, I just have to fight better than a goat. And I know I fight better than a goat. And why couldn’t I know about chupacabras? I have layers , Eddie. You don’t know me.”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “Ok, ok. Well, I obviously would choose werewolves, since their weakness is, like, the best-known weakness of all time and silver is my jewelry of choice. Bam.”

“Oh, yeah, ok. You could totally beat up a massive shapeshifting wolf with a human mind.” Steve said sarcastically, and Eddie let his mouth drop open. 

“You doubt me? I absolutely could.” He protested. “I’d punch that werewolf right in the face with silver knuckles. Have you even seen Teen Wolf? Michael J. Fox has literally nothing on me.” He flexed his arms, realizing too late that Steve definitely wouldn’t be able to see even the outline of his muscles through the baggy sweatshirt he was wearing.

“You’ve convinced me,” Steve deadpanned.

Eddie gave him a self-satisfied smile and nodded. “That’s right. Ok, now you go. Ask me a question. Ask me anything.”

Steve hmmed. “Tell me a secret.” He said finally. “Tell me something you’ve never told anyone before.”

“Right for the kicker, huh?” Eddie joked, even though he honestly felt a little breathless. Kind of floored. Leave it to Steve to follow up all of his stupid, inane, theatrical nonsense with something real. He thought about it for a minute, blew a razz while he thought. “I got one. So… You know how my whole brand is, like… big, scary rocker, with the tattoos, and the hair, and the rings and everything, right?”

“Yes, Eddie. You’re very scary.” Steve assured him. Eddie made a face in retaliation. 

“You tell me the last time you were accused of satanic cult-isms and murder, tough guy.”

“It was because you wear baggy clothes and play a nerd game,” Steve pointed out. “ You show me how that makes you so bad. Face it, Munson. I’m just not scared of you.”

Eddie... didn’t have the time or brain power needed to unpack how that made him feel.

“Now quit stalling and answer the question.”

“I want to go to school to study literature.” He blurted. “I wanna study Chaucer, ok? I want to get a doctorate so I can be a college professor and just talk about medieval literature all the time, and be the cool teacher that kids like -” me - “Dustin and Will and all them can talk to.”

Steve’s eyes were clear, steady, and accepting. He hardly made any move to react at all, positively or otherwise. He nodded and took a drink of his beer. “That’s really cool,” He said simply.

Eddie shrugged, giving way to self-consciousness. He took another drink, too.

“Your turn.” He said.

“You can’t tell Robin.” Steve threatened. “Or anyone . But definitely not Robin.”

“Swear it,” Eddie answered fast.

“I kind of want to see The King and I on Broadway.”

“ What ,” Eddie emphasized. Steve shrugged, all casual like he hadn’t dropped a massive, life-altering bomb on him.

Steve looked up at him, through his lashes and the wisp of bangs that had fallen over his forehead, mirthful. “I think it’d be really cool to see a Broadway musical.” He answered confidently. “It’d be like a movie in real life. And the people who like… run Broadway or whatever are there because they work really hard at like, acting and singing and stuff, so I know it’d be really good. It sounds like a lot of fun. And I used to watch The King and I when I went to see my grandma all the time. I like the big puffy skirts she wore. I think it’s on Broadway now, and I’d kill to see it.”

Eddie couldn’t think of anything else to say. Steve had somehow managed to strike him dumb. Dumb and mute. Deaf, dumb, mute, and blind. And numb. And paralyzed. Steve had paralyzed him. Steve had just ended his life as Eddie knew it, sitting on the floor of his kitchen in plaid pajama pants and messy hair with a beer bottle he had stolen from his dad’s stash in his hands.

Everything about Steve right then made Eddie want to scream about how sorry he was for ever hurting him. He wanted to film a televised broadcast about it. He wanted to write books about it. He wanted to follow Steve around on his hands and knees and apologize for ever and ever. Because he had never been great at impulse control when it came to his dumb mouth, he found himself saying, “I’m sorry.”

Steve shot him a surprised look. “What for?”

“For… everything. Before.” He answered.

“Oh -” Steve looked stunned. “Oh, I mean, don’t sweat it, man. You already apologized. I forgive you, for real.”

“I know, I know, it’s just… I don’t think it’s ever gonna feel like enough. Just… humor me, ok?” Eddie answered miserably. “Sorry if I made it weird.”

“You really don’t have to keep saying sorry. But, I’ll ‘humor you’.” He used air quotes, like the adorable asshole that he was. “You can say it as much as you want, I guess. I’ll just keep forgiving you.”

“Thank you,” Eddie said regally. “In return, I’ll keep my promise and I won’t tell Robin that you’re secretly a theater nerd. Even though I really, really, really want to.”

“God, she’d be insufferable about it. Remember you promised. Anyway, next question. Boxers or briefs?”

Chapter Text

Monday had tried its hardest to drag Steve down, but he couldn’t be bothered. He felt too good. He just felt… lighter. He couldn’t describe it.

No matter how many dense lectures to wade through and take subpar notes on because he couldn’t write fast enough even with his shorthand, or dense crowds to push through in the hallway and grit his teeth against all the people who hadn’t learned about personal space yet.

He was tired since he hadn’t gone to sleep until around 2 AM the night before.

For no particular reason.