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Scoffing, Steve rolls his eyes and leans to the side to give Eddie a quick kiss before going back to slicing strawberries. "I'm a hairy chested man. I can't be pretty"
"Put the knife down." Eddie demands, folding his arms across his chest and glaring at the knife until Steve puts it down and turns to lean against the counter, arms crossed to mimic Eddie's pose.
"Yes?"
"Steve. You're confused. The only reason you can't be pretty because it's not a big enough word for what you are. It has nothing to do with your chest hair or your muscles or how weak in the knees I feel when you swing your nail bat around."
"You're ridiculous," Steve laughs, pushing a hand through his hair and moving to go back to cutting.
Eddie stops him, serious faced, "No, I'm not. You're not pretty because beautiful is the word we use when there are no others. When we look at something and are filled with awe that this thing exists in a world where we are. Pretty is what I call you when I can't handle the idea of how absolutely beautiful you are."
Steve cheeks go pink and his bottom lip disappears between his teeth. He fidgets against the counter. With the tips of his fingers, Eddie tilts Steve's chin up so their eyes meet. This beautiful man who has no idea how pretty he is. Eddie feels incredibly lucky to be the one to convince him of that.
"When I look at you, yes, I see a man who has great hair and sexy muscles, an ass made for biting," Steve blushes and rolls his eyes but Eddie just grins and keeps going, "and yeah, I see a plush blanket of fur on his chest. All of which makes me what to jump his bones basically every time I see him. And yes, all of that is so pretty - but the real beauty of Steve Harrington is the set of his legs when he stands in front to protect us, the light in his eyes when those kids come to him for advice, the way he makes sure that everyone in his little family of miscreants never doubts that they are loved."
Cupping Steve's face, Eddie leans in, letting his own forehead rest against Steve's so he can breathe him in, "You are so fucking beautiful, Steve Harrington."
Countdown to Midnight Prompt: Eddie Munson | Word Count: 2684 | Rating: T | CW: Medical Emergency (Not Steddie), Language | POV: Eddie | Tags: Gym AU, Modern AU, One-Sided Enemies to Lovers, Misconceived Notions, Platonic Stobin, Steve's Flirting, But Eddie Doesn't Know That, Oblivious Eddie Munson
"Eddie Munson."
His name is said with such sarcasm that Eddie turns his head to look.
Of course.
Just what he needed today.
"Steve Harrington," Eddie mimics in the same mocking tone. He doesn't know very many names in this place, but Steve Harrington has made sure Eddie knew his, even if it was totally against Eddie's will.
Now, Steve's standing there, grinning at him.
He's not going to put up with him. Not today.Â
Eddie hates this dude more than anyone else at the gym. And there are lots of gym bros here to choose to loathe. He honestly barely knows him. But Steve Harrington is always prancing around in his little shorts, with his hair stretching towards the sky, like he's not preparing to teach a workout. Eddie isn't even sure what class he teaches. All Eddie knows is that he never seems to work up a sweat during them, as far as he's ever seen.
If he's not standing around taunting Eddie, he's leaning over the front desk, harassing Robin. She's a lesbian, Eddie is sure of it, and if Steve Harrington can't see that and know to leave her alone, he needs his eyes checked. He's always just a step too close to her, and about two steps too close to Eddie.
It's frustrating, infuriating, and Eddie hates him.
He might not sign a second contract with this place. He was asked, as a favor, to take over some classes short-term, and he's enjoyed the extra cash. But it clearly comes with a cost.Â
He's gonna kill Gareth for assuring him this was a cool place to work. It's not cool. Well, it's cool. Except for Steve Harrington.
There were more than enough Steve Harringtons in his high school that he doesn't need to work alongside any more of them now.
Eddie looks away, and watches as his own kickboxing students filter in. When he was younger he needed an outlet for his teenage rage, Wayne signed him up for a kickboxing class at the local gym. At first, he hated the idea. Exercise? A sport? No fucking thanks. But he gave it a try. For Wayne.Â
It was just him and some weird older dude that really preferred karate in that first class, but Eddie quickly learned to love it. The release. The pounding of his heart. How the stress would seemingly just melt away, one kick, one elbow, at a time. How the resistance, heavy and thick, would ground him.Â
It was a good idea. But Wayne's ideas usually are, Eddie damn well knows that.Â
And now, years later, he's the one teaching the classes to help others maybe find their love of it, too. Eddie's no sports guy. Not at all. Kickboxing is his main form of exercise. Sure, he'll use the rest of the gym every so often, since it's a perk of working here, but overall, this is his only thing.Â
Nothing else has ever appealed to him in this same way.Â
Steve saunters down the catwalk, the sun reflecting through the huge pane glass windows, illuminating him as he's bouncing with every step. The motherfucker always gives off main character energy, and that's true today as he glows while Eddie watches him go.
He'd much rather see him going, then coming, that's for fucking sure. He's too goddamn chipper. Â
Eddie's already soaked, hair clinging to his neck, so he just as well run for a bit. It's not his favorite thing, not by a long shot, but it's necessary evil sometimes.Â
The wall of treadmills is blissfully empty, and he picks one, and gets to work. Feet hitting, over and over, as he counts down the time he needs to spend on this thing. He doesn't enjoy it, but he'll do it. Occasionally.
Then he catches movement beside him.
Jesus H. Christ.Â
The place is a ghost town and Steve Harrington still feels the need to set up camp right next to him.Â
Eddie ignores him. Pretends he doesn't even realize he's got unwanted company, and pounds along the belt. Eddie can see him in the mirror though, unfortunately, and Steve smiles. He looks graceful while running, of course he does, especially compared to Eddie's heavy stride.Â
When Eddie's cooldown begins, Eddie's grateful. He's ready to hit the showers and get the hell out of here.
Steve's still running, like it's easy as can be, even after Eddie's showered and dressed, bag slung over his shoulder.Â
He's gotta get home. Tomorrow is his early class day. He's not a morning person, but he conceded to having at least one class a week before nine.
Eddie rolls in, coffee cup in hand. He hears the commotion, the frantic buzz of something is happening echoing through the open gym, bouncing down the catwalk, from room to room, like it's seeking help it just can't quite find.
"Okay, everybody, give me a second. Get a drink, stretch, I'll be back and we'll get started then," Eddie says, telling his class. They are all huddled in groups discussing what might be going on.Â
He jogs down the catwalk, then peeks into every class on the other side of the split structure as he passes by, looking for the right one. Most of them are empty. When he turns the corner, he sees a crowd gathered at the end of the hall, and jogs that way. Someone's on the phone with 911, thankfully, because inside Steve Harrington is performing CPR on an older man, while everybody is just standing around watching.Â
Eddie ushers them away from the door, and then starts gathering up the rest of the class Steve was teaching. A room filled with senior citizens, all in their matching sweatsuits and white New Balance shoes. Standing around, looking lost.
He's not sure where to move them. He could just send them home, but thinks they need time to unwind, process what they've witnessed, and maybe that's better done here than off somewhere else, possibly alone. He sees Gareth down the hall, and snaps his fingers, waving him over, getting Gareth to take all of the now shaken students to his classroom. No, they probably aren't gonna join in on his cardio drumming class, though Eddie knows he's offered one for seniors in the past.
Then Eddie runs back in, and it's just Steve Harrington, working his ass off on this poor guy.
Eddie counts for him, like he's been trained. 1, 2, 3, over and over and Steve follows the beat of Eddie's cadence until he looks worn out.
He's sweating now. Bangs clinging damp and limp to his forehead, and Eddie hates it. It looks unnatural.
"We'll switch, in 3, 2, 1," Eddie says, and Steve lifts his hands and Eddie takes over.Â
"I gotâŚI started, fast. I think, I think, maybe," Steve breathes out in short bursts, clearly exhausted. Out of breath and shaken.
Then, Steve counts for him, while Eddie listens for sirens.
It doesn't take long before he hears them, screaming up the road, and they switch off again as Eddie runs to the main stairs to guide them in.Â
The professionals take over, and Eddie stands next to Steve, watching as they shock the guy back into a normal rhythm. Maybe they did it. Maybe Steve did it. Time is the most important thing, and Steve started right away. There's a chance.
Steve gave him a chance.
Hopefully, the guy will be okay.
Hopefully, Steve will be okay.
After they wheel him out, Steve looks around, "My class."
"They're fine. Gareth's got 'em. Probably turning them into the next Ringo's as we speak."
Steve cracks a grin, but it's small, and not all there.
"C'mon," Eddie says, "you can watch me teach my beginner class, if you want, and then we'll go get something to eat. You look like you need it."
After checking in with his class first, Steve agrees, and that's how Steve Harrington, enemy number one, ends up sitting on a fitness ball, watching Eddie prepare to teach his kickboxing for beginners class.
There's an empty bag, and Steve nods towards it when Eddie circles past, "Can I?"
Eddie grins, "You want to?"
Steve nods, and Eddie nods back, helping him get set up.Â
He's a natural, Eddie thinks, as he helps him make small adjustments, and then just lets him follow along.Â
Maybe he's never done any kickboxing before, but he's clearly athletic. He follows Eddie's instructions well, is very flexible, and definitely not afraid to get to work. For a beginner his kicks are high, strong and confident. He's comfortable behind the bag, as he seems to be getting all his frustrations from the day out on the bag. Good. That's what he's supposed to do in here.
When the hour is up, he's dripping sweat, exhausted.
Steve's wiping his brow with the tail of his shirt, letting Eddie get a glimpse of his hairy belly. Not the right time, not the right person, Eddie has to remind himself.Â
"Still want that breakfast?" Eddie asks.
"Hell, yes. I'm starving. That was a workout."
Eddie laughs, and follows him down the stairs and towards the locker room.Â
They both shower, and today Eddie's not annoyed that he's in the stall next to him, not like he was on the treadmill.Â
It's funny how a moment or two can change your whole perspective that you just assumed was set in stone.
They pass the front desk, scanning their keycards to sign out, and Robin stands, looking at Steve, clearly concerned. She's fidgeting, worrying her hands.Â
"Are you okay? Chrissy saidâ"
"I'm good," he says, interrupting, reassuring her, and Eddie watches them interact. She comes around the desk and throws her arms around his neck, squeezing him tight.Â
He hugs her back, "Thanks, Rob. I needed that."
"You sure you're okay? Do you want me to find someone to coverâ"
"Eddie's taking me to breakfast," Steve says, and Eddie does not miss the little widening her eyes do before she schools her face back to neutral.Â
"Well, that's nice of you, Eddie," she says, and Eddie realizes he's been very, very wrong about whatever their dynamic is. She adores him, obviously.Â
They hit the sidewalk, "So, Robin. Is she yourâŚ"
"Best friend. She's my best friend."
Eddie nods. That checks out. Steve was annoying her, but on purpose, mutually agreed upon nuisances, without a doubt.
They're best friends. He wasn't trying to pick her up against her will.
That's interesting.
Very interesting.
"Functional fitness," Steve says, sitting across from Eddie in the booth at the diner down the street from the gym, "it's for anybody, but I mainly teach seniors. It helps keep them mobile longer, and that makes me feel like I'm making a difference, you know?"
Eddie didn't know. Eddie had no idea what Steve was doing across the building, and had clearly assumed the worst, instead of the best of him.
He was wrong about Steve Harrington, he's pretty sure.
Steve keeps talking, "It helps them with everyday tasks, you know? Push, pull, carry. That kind of thing. So, I'll get younger participants that are rehabbing injuries, or that have chronic illnesses. But it mainly skews older, for sure. I never expected one of them to go down. I don't have them do novel movements over their hearts or anything, I swear."
Eddie nods. He's not sure what a novel movement is, not really.
"What a novel movement?" he asks.
"Well," Steve says, "it's like, something that you don't do everyday. A change. Shoveling snow. Shoveling snow is a novel movement, and that's why so many people unexpectedly die doing it."
Steve makes the motion for slinging a shovel full of snow over his shoulder, "So, like, I'm not making them do things like that."
"No shoveling snow in the gym, got it," Eddie says, teasing him a little, and Steve chuckles.
"You know what I mean," Steve says.
"I do," Eddie agrees.Â
"I've never had that happen before," Steve then says quietly.
"And hopefully never again," Eddie comments. "It's not your fault. It's probably lucky for him he was with you. Best possible outcome if it had to happen."
Steve runs both of his hands down his face.
"Maybe."
Steve Harrington really isn't so bad, he supposes. He clearly cares a whole lot about what happened today.
The server puts down their plates, and they eat in silence, but it isn't uncomfortable.
Then Steve speaks again, "Thanks for helping, I was surprised to see you."
"Why?"
"You always seem so annoyed when I try to chat you up," Steve says.
Eddie can't really deny it. He has been annoyed.Â
Wait.
Wait.
Was Steve trying to chat him up, chat him up? Like, flirting? Eddie wasn't reading flirting from him, that's for damn sure.Â
Maybe he needs to pay better attention. That's been a common theme in his life, but usually about school, not attractive men that may or may not be interested in him.
"My bark is worse than my bite," Eddie settles on, and offers him a smile.
Steve laughs, his mood finally lifting, just a little, "Well, I hope not."
Holy shit.Â
Eddie is such a goddamn idiot.
He's being flirted with. He's been being flirted with, for all the time he's known Steve Harrington.
Steve sits there for a minute, stirring his drink with his straw, knocking the ice around, "Do you think any of them will show up again?"
It takes Eddie a minute to parse his meaning, "Your class? Of course they will."
Steve rolls his shoulders in a non-convinced way.
"Steve. They know how old they are. You didn't do anything wrong."
Eddie doesn't know that. Not for sure. But he believes it to be true. He's just not sure how to prove it to him. Steve clearly cares too much to have done anything risky.Â
Instead, Eddie asks, "When's your next class?"Â
"Tomorrow."
"For the same people?"
"Some of them. Not everybody comes everyday."
"But some do?" Eddie asks.
"Some do," he confirms. "Usually, anyway. I have regulars. Vincent was a regular."
"Well," Eddie says, "I'll come. Then we'll know at least one person will be there. You took my class, so I should take yours. It's only fair."
Steve laughs, "It's not gonna be nearly as exciting as kickboxing."
Well, Steve's gonna be there. So, that sounds pretty exciting to Eddie.
The next day the class is as full as ever, Eddie suspects. And they're all kind to Steve, patting him on the back for saving their fellow classmate. He's stable in the ICU, and things are looking positive. Steve did good. He did real good.
The only discourse is a few of them trying to figure out how they're going to figure out the scheduling to take both Steve's functional fitness class and Gareth's cardio drumming. Eddie's pretty sure the kid is gonna have to add a senior class to his schedule again now that everyone got a preview of something they may have never tried on their own.
Eddie sidles up to their conversation, "I know Gareth. I'll make sure he schedules it so you can do both."
And just like that, he's won them over as well.
Steve gets started, and Eddie follows along with the routine Steve's leading. There are chairs for some of the less stable to hang onto, when needed, and it's just a thoughtful experience, honestly. Steve's kind, and funny, and they very clearly adore him.
He might not break a sweat, but he's really doing something special here.Â
Eddie really hopes he'll get to tell him that later, over dinner, or drinks. Anything he wants, as long as Eddie can make up for lost time and for being a judgmental asshole for no good reason.
Steve grins, and Eddie smiles back as they get in place for the next rep in the set. Â
Now, Eddie is certain that he wants to get outside of his comfort zone, outside of the box, when it comes to Steve Harrington.
Novel movements, indeed.
If you want to sign up for a future bingo event or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddiebingo and follow along with the fun!
Notes: I didn't know where this was going, but I knew I wanted to use "Eddie Munson" the prompt as his name being said by Steve. So I got as far as, "Eddie hates this dude more than anyone else at the _."
Where? Where are they? I wondered if I could find a randomizer for jobs, and just...see if that would produce an idea. I did, right here, and spun the wheel and got "personal trainer" which isn't exactly where this led, but it got them in the gym, and the rest of the story fleshed itself out from there.
Okay I said I needed to just post what I had mostly written instead of everything I wanted have in this chapter, so! Here we are! Hopefully it won't be a year until the next part, yikes.
Previously on SSS: Steve spends a week mourning his relationship while his parents are home and being assholes. Dustin shows up to yell at/comfort him.
Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four
âIâve got to drive the kids home.â
Eddie watches as Steveâs car pulls away, barely pausing at the stop sign before disappearing around the corner. He stares at the now-empty road until a squawk from the tree overhead startles him into action.
He canâtâhe canât think about what he did right now. He needs to grab his things and get out of here before he loses it. What the fuck just happened? What did he do? God, Steveâs face. No, no, heâs not thinking about it. Heâs going back inside to get his shit, and then heâs leaving.
He slams open the door to Garethâs basement and thunders down the steps. The guys have already settled back in, lounging around, shooting the shit, clearly in no mood to break the party up even though the session is over. They barely glance up when he enters, but Jeff instantly does a double take.
âWhoa, hey, man. You donât look so good.â That gets all of their eyes on him.
âI broke up with Steve.â He doesnât mean to say it, but the words are out there now, and itâs real. Itâs real and he canât take it back.
Around him, the guys are clamoring, a loud cacophony that essentially amounts to, âWhat?!â
âI broke up with him,â he says again, almost disbelieving. His mind is already racing. He can take this back. He can fix this. He just needs to drive to Steveâs house and tell him that he didnât mean it. That he was body snatched or possessed or Vecnaâd.
Okay, maybe not that last one. But, god --
Gareth crows with laughter, breaking through the spiral of Eddieâs thoughts. âSeriously? Good for you dude. Weâve been waiting. And thank god. He was such a square.â
Jeff rolls his eyes at Gareth. âDoes it make you a square if you call someone a square?â
âShut up, man.â Gareth shoves at him and Jeff shoves back.
Grant nudges Eddie from where he sits on the floor next to him, waits for Eddie to look down at him before asking softly, âSeriously, are you okay?â
âIâI donât know. Did I fuck up?â His voice sounds funny, far off. His eyes refuse to focus. Jeff and Gareth immediately stop their tussling. Gareth leans up from where Jeff has him pinned to the floor, eyes blazing.
âNo. This is a good thing. He was a douchebag.â
âYou guys were around him for one night,â Eddie argues.
Jeff pushes up from the floor and stands in front of Eddie, serious in a way he rarely is. âYeah, but Eddie, youâve been fucked up for months. I know we donât know what you went through, and Iâm not asking you to tell us, but itâs sucked watching you be a freaking zombie.â
âWe didnât even really get to watch you for most of it,â Grant breaks in. âIt was like Harrington had you on house arrest. Half the times we tried to visit you and he was there, he refused to let us near you. Every other time, he kicked us out after like five minutes. We had no idea what was going on, we couldnât talk to you.â
âHe was just being protective,â Eddie protests, but itâs weak. Steve had been pretty militant about visitors during the early days after spring break. But Eddie hadnât minded. For most of his recovery, he hadnât wanted to see anyone. Heâd never explicitly told Steve to keep people away, though. Heâd somehow just known. Eddie can only imagine to his friends, though, it looked like they were being deliberately, even maliciously kept away by a known asshole who probably wouldnât know Eddie from Adam.
Jeff nods at Grantâs words. âWeâre your best friends, man. We were terrified over spring break. Then suddenly youâve got this guy who you couldnât stand playing guard dog over you, and weâre just supposed to accept that?â
âNow that youâve been out of your cage for a little while,â Gareth breaks in, âand we get to hang out with both of you for real, he acts like heâd rather be anywhere else. Doesnât know our names, doesnât talk with us, canât even be fucked to remember shit thatâs important to you. So, yeah. I think this break up is a good thing.â
Ten minutes ago, so had Eddie. But now all he can see is the devastation on Steveâs face.
âYou guys mind if I skip the cleanup? I can get most of the stuff later.â
âYeah, mean, get out of here. Weâll see you next week.â
âOr before then, if you want to hang out,â Jeff says. âNow that weâll actually be able to see you.â
Eddie scoops up the papers with his DM notes on them, but leaves his screen, dice, and books to grab later, and trudges to his car.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The next week is a blur. Eddie barely leaves his room, barely leaves his bed. He hears most of the kids talking to Wayne at various points, but Wayne, like the saint he is, turns them away, leaves Eddie to rot in peace.
He misses Steve. Itâs honestly stupid for him to stay in his room the way he does, because Steve is in every corner of it. Heâs left so much shit there (including but not limited to: a Hawkins High baseball raglan, a Springsteen cassette, at least two pairs of boxers, and memories, memories fucking everywhere). Eddie can still smell him on his sheets. In his weaker, weirder moments, he finds himself trying to hotbox Steveâs scent, comforter pulled over his head as he buries his nose in his whatâs now Steveâs pillow and sniffs hard enough to cause a headache.
Eddie almost drove to Steveâs house after leaving Garethâs that awful day. Made it three blocks away before he turned around and went home. His brain had been a mess, unable to decide what to do or how he felt, and it still is days later. He goes over everything obsessively - the epic failure of their date, the argument in the car after, the two days he spent ruminating on their fate, and then the break up itself and Steveâs reaction to it.
Eddieâd felt so solid in his decision the minute Steve had opened his mouth at Garethâs. But as soon as he said it, all his reasons seemed flimsy. Who cares that they had one bad date, that Steve had been at less than his best one time in front of Eddieâs friends, that heâd run the second Eddie had tried to talk about it? Eddie could have tried again, gone over to his house the next day or called him up, talked about it when their heads were cooler. And who cares that they donât have anything in common? Steve still acts interested in whatever Eddie wants to tell him most of the time. Asks questions, smiles at him so, so sweetly and tells him to keep talking every time Eddie laments that he's boring Steve.
But thereâs just been an itch at the back of Eddieâs mind since he got out of the hospital. A shadow at the corner of his eye that disappears when he turns to look at it fully. It tugs at him at odd moments, when things seem to be going fine, good, even, but thereâs something off. He canât see a pattern, but he knows he feels it more when Steveâs around. And every time his friends or Wayne push back against Steve, every time something Steve says hits a sour note, the shadow grows bigger and more menacing.
Heâd felt the shadow swell at The Hideout as he waited in the parking lot, watching the minutes tick by. He tried to shake it when Steve showed up, tried to ignore it pulling more insistently as he clocked Steveâs attire, his inattention, his apathy, and his anger. But it grew and grew until it was almost suffocating, until he saw him at Garethâs and it exploded in words he couldnâtâŚdidnât want to?âŚtake back.
Now here he is. Midway through a D&D session with his three closest friends and three kids who clearly know somethingâs up with the way theyâve been trying him since the session started. Lucas and Mike are just being annoying, having side conversations, making Eddie repeat himself when they donât pay attention to the narration, but Dustinâs actively hostile, antagonizing Eddieâs NPCs at every turn, tossing out snide remarks at the other players unprovoked, even the way he rolls his dice is disrespectful.
âYou okay over there, Henderson?â He finally asks, the third time Dustinâs tossed his dice so hard across the board theyâve flown off the table.
Dustin accepts his dice back from Jeff whoâd scooped them off the floor easily enough, but he sneers at Eddie. âWhat do you care, Munson?â
Even though Eddie knows the likely reason Dustinâs acting out, he still revels in the eyes going wide around him, the quiet ooohhs at Dustinâs words. Eddie smiles like a predator indulging its prey.
âA Dungeon Master always cares if his party members are having a good time,â he says, low and dangerous. âSo if you have a complaint, I say out with it. Share with the class, please.â
The words and the tone pass over the kid who used to cower at the thought of Eddie being upset with him. The shadow grows larger.
âI donât have anything to say.â
âOh, really?â Eddie says, menacing, meeting Hendersonâs head-on stare unflinchingly. âWell, if you donât have anything to say, thenââ
âWhat did you do to Steve?â Mike breaks into their standoff. Eddieâs attention snaps to him.
âExcuse me?â
Mike rolls his eyes at the theatrics, something Eddie wouldn't have imagined possible before spring break. âYou heard me.â
âWhy do you think Iâve done anything to him?â
âYou havenât been around at all, and Steve hasnât mentioned you once since our last session. Normally he canât shut up about you.â
âMike!â Dustin hisses. Mike throws up his hands.
âItâs true! And his hairâs been all droopy!â
âJesus Christ, Mike,â Lucas says, dropping his head in his hands.
âOh no, not his hair!â Gareth cracks up with Grant and Jeff.
âShut up, man,â Lucas says, with enough annoyance that the other guys stop laughing. Lucas never talks back.
âHe dumped him,â Henderson bites off. âFor no goddamn reason.â
âYou donât know what youâre talking about.â Eddie stares Dustin down from behind his DM screen. Yeah, he did do that. But he had his reasonsâŚmostlyâŚand heâs not going to let some snot-nosed freshman, no matter what theyâve been through together, act like heâs the bad guy in this situation. He did what he had to do.
âYes, I do.â
âWhat,â Eddie scoffs. âDid Steve run and tattle to you?â
âWhat is he, five? No he didnât tattle to me.â Dustin rolls his eyes, which Eddieâs getting real tired of seeing. âItâs not tattling to tell your best friend something bad that happened to you. Besides, he didnât even want to tell me, but I caught him crying and made him.â
That brings Eddie up short. âHe was crying?â
âHe was crying.â Dustin says, somehow smug and angry and sad all at once. âIâve seen Steve after he was tortured and Iâve never seen him cry.â
âAfter he was what?â
âDude!â Mike smacks him on the arm, gives him a look as he gestures to the rest of the Hellfire guys whose eyes are all wide as saucers.
Dustin rolls his eyes. âMetaphorically tortured,â he amends. Eddie glances at the guys and can see it doesnât help. Eddie needs to end this now, before anyone says something they regret, or anyone exposes something they really shouldnât.
âHenderson, listenââ But heâs cut off by a herd of elephants galumphing down the stairs.
âAll right, children, itâs time to go! Move your butts!â Instead of elephants, itâs Robin, entering the room like righteous whirlwind. Eddie clocks immediately that sheâs spitting mad, eyes ablaze, mouth set.
Gareth, with zero sense of self preservation, whines, âBut we havenât finished yet!â The look Robin shoots him is pure venom.
âYes, you have.â She dismisses him, and turns back to the kids who are already gathering their things without protest. âNow move it, chop chop. Nancyâs in the station wagon outside.â The kids donât grumble the way they normally do whenâŚwhen itâs Steve come to get them and is hurrying them out of the room. Dustin shoulder checks Eddie on the way out, knocking him off balance metaphorically if not physically.
As the kids file upstairs, Robin lingers.
âI need to talk to you,â she says to him. âIn private, please.â Itâs not a request. Eddie nods. Time for a reckoning.
Steddie BigBang 2023! I teamed up with the amazing feryerhealth [ao3 link] to create art for her fic The Eddie Munson Hallucination Crisis. Chapter 1 is available now and I'm so excited for everyone to read the rest.
