Written for the March 2026 round of @steddiemicrofic
Rated: G
Prompt: short, 321 words
Tags: Post-S5; Eddie Munson lives; Fix it fic; Reunions; Disabled Eddie; Pre-Steddie
“Okay,” Dustin says as they pull into the driveway. “Remember-”
“-not to stare.” Steve throws open his door. “You've told me a million times.”
The house looks nice. A small compensation for almost dying and having to change your entire identity.
Dustin sighs. “He's self-conscious. About the scars and … everything. I only just found out he’s alive, and- … Please don't say anything stupid?”
“Dustin, I’m not an idiot.” Steve gestures at the scar on his own neck. “I know what it’s like, running around with-”
The door opens.
“Henderson, you made it!”
Dustin sobs and lurches forward. Eddie buries his face in the kid’s neck while they both laugh and cry. His right hand is holding a cane, but his left arm is hugging Dustin like he never wants to let go.
And then he does.
“Harrington. Welcome to- … What?”
Steve stares. Hard.
Eddie swallows. The gnarly scars on his jaw move.
“Listen,” he says. “I know it ain't pretty-”
“What happened to your hair?” Steve blurts.
Eddie blinks. His fingers tug on the curly strands. They barely reach his ears. “Oh, I … They buzzed it at the hospital, and then the government people said to leave it short, to look less like myself. I've just started growing it back out. Still looks silly.”
Steve shakes his head. It doesn't. It brings out Eddie’s dimples and cheekbones. His eyes look huge.
“No! It's really cu-” He cuts himself off. “-ool.”
The butchered word dangles between them.
“Um, thanks?” Eddie’s smile as he turns back to Dustin is just a little overeager. “What are we waiting for? Come on, I’ll give you the grand tour!”
They trail behind him as he speeds off, cane clicking on the floorboards.
“Cewl?” Dustin hisses. “What the fuck is your problem?”
Steve isn’t sure, but watching Eddie’s curls bounce around his head, he has a feeling he’ll need to figure it out.
while my mom was pregnant with me, she was delivering chinese food on bike in new orleans. i like to think that the music she heard in the streets made me the way i am now.
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