Steve teaches himself constellations just so he can pull out this knowledge to impress girls by pointing them out on dates, but he accidentally becomes super interested in astronomy. Before he knows it he's buying books about planets and stars and digging out a fancy telescope his parents got him for his birthday when he was a kid and using it for the first time. Turns out the girls he dates tend to switch off as soon as he starts rambling about things he's spotted through it, but he's invested in it now. He vows never to let the others find out about this because they would tease him relentlesly about secretly also being a nerd.
But then one day he's in the room when Eddie's running a dnd session and he makes a mistake when describing some stars pirates are using to navigate. Steve 'um actually's him without even thinking about it and ends up with an audience of very curious teens asking question after question and one very enthusiastic Eddie Munson egging them on with a 'yes tell us all about the stars, Stevie.'
At some point in the future when Eddie and Steve are dating. Eddie tells him it makes perfect sense that Steve gets lost in the stars sometimes when he was born with constellations of freckles all over his skin. Steve gets so flustered he's not sure how to respond for a good minute.
After becoming friends with Steve, Robin told Eddie two words: “good luck.”
He didn’t understand it at first until he watched Steve going on failed dates after failed dates, or watching a short relationship end in a terrible break-up and Steve moping around.
Eddie didn’t want to count how many times he’s seen Steve’s heart break.
So now he’s on a mission: keep Steve from dating.
He’s ruining every opportunity Steve gets for dates, making plans with him almost every weekend and after a while, Steve stops asking girls out and Eddie feels accomplished.
At least, he did until Steve kissed him goodbye after movie night and now Eddie’s so fucking confused.
Eddie who’s so used to hiding his real feelings behind 40 layers of bravado and persona so no one can hurt him having to adjust to the fact that he’s dating Steve, who yeah, seems like he’s hot and untouchable and knows he can have whoever he wants, but is actually really insecure and needs Eddie to actually talk about his feelings with words
Based on this post by @nancywheelesbian @jinkies-brooms-scoob and @twosunson
“I can’t shake him,” Eddie exasperated as he dropped his bookbag into the empty chair next to Jeff.
“Who?” Jeff asked quietly. There was at least four other tables full in the library’s study hall, but he knows the librarian has it out for Hellfire.
“Harrington,” Eddie hushed.
“Steve?” Jeff asked surprised. The librarian shushed in their direction. Jeff lowered his voice. “That Harrington?”
“Yes,” Eddie stressed. “I — uh —“ he physically lowered himself towards the table as he lowered his voice. “Hooked up with him this weekend and now he won’t leave me alone.”
“Hold up,” Jeff wrinkled his brow. “You’re telling me golden boy king Steve — with you? And now he’s following you around?”
“Like a puppy,” Eddie whined. “The only thing that’s keeping him from here right now is wood shop.”
“Okay, I’m still wrapping my head around this,” Jeff said. “What do you mean you bagged — that and now he won’t leave you alone?”
“Yeah!” Eddie said throwing his hands in the air. “Exactly. I don’t get it either!”
“Boys!” The librarian hushed.
“Was he high?” Jeff whispered.
“I mean we smoked,” Eddie whispered. “But it was barely a buzz. It wouldn’t have affected Gareth and he’s a lightweight.”
“So what are you going to do?” Jeff asked.
“I don’t know,” Eddie groaned. “I’ve tried shaking him but he keeps finding me.”
“Does he got something against you?” Jeff asked. “Is he like — blackmailing you?”
“Jeff —“ Eddie looked around before lowering down on the table and voice so quiet yet high pitched panic. “He sucked my dick. I got more blackmail on him.”
“What?”
“Boys!” The librarian snapped. “One more interruption and you can leave —“
The two looked at each other before breaking out into shit-eating grins.
“Balls!” “Cock!”
“Get out!”
Eddie and Jeff scrambled to pick up their items before dashing out of the library laughing, forgetting the reason that they were kicked out in the first place.
———
Hawkins High was no exception to cliques, each table was practically assigned to a group. The jocks, band geeks, the popular kids, and Hellfire Club. There’s hardly any deviation. Except —
“Eddie!”
Eddie snapped his head up, watching Steve pass by his friends’ table to set his lunch tray next to Eddie’s.
“Missed you in English today,” Steve said, as if they normally interacted in their English class. Eddie looked over Steve’s shoulder to Tommy Hagan, who looked like he was about to explode.
“Yeah,” Eddie said. “Got kicked out of study hall. Took a little adventure into town.”
“You should’ve told me,” Steve pouted. Honest to god pouted. “I would’ve went with you.”
“Jeff went with me,” Eddie said, throwing his thumb over his shoulder to Jeff sitting beside him. He quickly glanced, catching Jeff’s wide eyes. The little shit didn’t believe him. “He’s my best friend since middle school.”
“Steve,” Steve said, introducing himself.
“Yeah,” Jeff nodded. “We — uh — share home ec together.”
“Right,” Steve said. “You made those killer brownies last month.”
“Yeah,” Jeff said. “There — uh — a special recipe of mine.”
“Did you make weed brownies in class?” Eddie asked.
“No,” Jeff grinned. “I made weed brownies without weed in them.”
“So not special special brownies,” Eddie joked.
Steve snorted his drink. It wasn’t even that funny of a joke.
“Hey.”
The table turned to Gareth’s big ass frown and Freak, standing at the edge of the table.
“What’s he doing here?”
“He’s Eddie’s new friend,” Jeff said. Eddie shot Jeff a glare. “He’s having lunch with us today.”
“Steve,” Steve introduced himself again.
Gareth sat down with a huff.
“Freak,” Freak kindly introduced himself. Steve glanced at Eddie wide-eyed.
“Frank is his government name,” Eddie explained. “Some dick in his freshman English class read his name wrong and it stuck.”
“A badge of pride,” Freak grinned.
“Nice to meet you guys,” Steve said.
“Thanks for letting me sit with you for lunch.”
“You can’t sit with your own friends?” Gareth sneered. Eddie guessed if anyone was going to ask Steve the obvious questions no one wanted to ask, it would be Gareth.
“I mean I can,” Steve shrugged. “Just wanted to spend time with Eddie.”
Eddie took another glance towards Tommy Hagan and his table. Eddie knew Tommy and Steve had a falling out and that Tommy seemed to follow Hargrove around, but after winter break the two seemed to be at least on talking terms when Hargrove wasn’t around.
Eddie felt a hand squeeze on his knee.
He jerked up, barely avoiding smashing Steve’s hand into the table.
Steve pulled his hand back.
Eddie kind of missed the touch.
“Sorry,” they said simultaneously.
“Okay,” Jeff interrupted, seeing the need to pull the attention away from Steve. “We need to figure out a set list for tomorrow.”
“What’s tomorrow?” Steve asked.
“Our first gig,” Freak grinned.
“Gig?” Steve asked. Gareth groaned.
“We have a band,” Eddie explained. “Metal — like heavy rock. We got hired to play at the Hideout. If all goes good, it’s gonna be a regular thing for actual money.”
Steve’s face brightened up. “Can I come?”
“Uh — sure,” Eddie said, his brow furrowed for a brief moment. “It gets loud.”
“I’ll find earplugs,” Steve said. The first bell rang. “Shit. I got a test coming up I need to study for. I gotta go. I’ll catch you later?”
“Sure?” Eddie said unsurely.
“Great,” Steve squeezed Eddie’s shoulder as he stood up. “Nice to meet you all. Can’t wait to see you play tomorrow.”
Steve grabbed his lunch tray and left, the boys all watching him as he took his tray to the return spot and leave the cafeteria.
“What the hell was that?” Gareth asked sharply. “Who does he think he is?”
“I don’t know,” Eddie admitted honestly. “This all started this morning. He’s following me around —“
“Like a love sick puppy,” Jeff said slowly. “Congrats Eddie. That’s your new boyfriend.”
okay now that we’ve a had couple lesbian blockbusters and milfs are having a romance moment, we need to bring back the manic pixie dream girl. she was never fuckin suited to fixing all the problems of some boring twenty year old everyman, but you know who could actually benefit from a quirky free-spirited blue haired girl with pronouns (she/they)? a newly divorced forty-something mom who’s trying to learn how to be herself for the first time in her life
Bingo Card: 1970s || Prompt: Dolly Parton | Song: Here You Come Again | Word Count: 8143 | Rating: T | CW: Steve's Canon Injuries | POV: Eddie, Steve | Pairing: Steddie | Tags: Canon Divergence, Time Skips, Steve Harrington Keeps Turning Up Like a Bad Penny, Eddie is Forced to Deal With Him, Happy Ending
Also available on ao3.
Here you come again,
And here I go
Dolly Parton, Here You Come Again
Eddie
Eddie hates this fucking job, and all the fucking people he has to deal with working here, on a daily basis.
Starting with King Steve and his merry band of motherfuckers.
Steve Harrington is wandering around the aisles of the Fair Mart, like he’s never seen any of these items before in his life. Eddie watches out of the corner of his eye, and sees Harrington pick up and put down three different bags of chips.
Idiot.
Eddie wonders how stupid he actually is. He's been in a couple classes with Harrington, and he seems a few cards short of a full deck.
All jokers, no aces.
Eddie glances out of the plate glass window towards the pumps, and sees diesel running over the side of the Mercedes straight onto the ground. These fucking morons.
Jesus H. Christ.
Eddie runs out the front door of the convenience store, and when he gets to the car, he grabs the fuel nozzle, yanking it out the car, slamming it back down on the cradle.
Tommy Fucking Hagen spins around to look at the noise Eddie's caused.
"What the fuck, man?" Hagan asks, like he can't see the diesel spill. Can't smell it.
Eddie waves his arms, motioning to the huge, dark mess Hagen’s just made by not paying any fucking attention to his surroundings. He must be dumber than Harrington. He's definitely meaner. Eddie knows that firsthand.
"Can you not read? Do. Not. Leave. Vehicle. Unattended," Eddie says slowly, pointing at the sign, like Hagen's an idiot. Because he is an idiot. Eddie knows that, without a doubt.
"It wasn’t unattended, you freak, I’m right here," Hagen says, looking at Eddie like he’s the idiot here. No fucking way.
Eddie waves at the mess one more time, "Sure looks like it was unattended."
Steve Harrington comes out of the store, and is just standing there like a slack-jawed fool, watching it all play out.
Eddie looks at the dispenser, "That’ll be $14.15."
Tommy scoffs, "This car doesn’t hold that much, so unless the price of diesel has suddenly risen to over a dollar, then you’ve lost your goddamn mind, Munson. I knew you were a burnout, but that’s basic math."
Eddie narrows his eyes, "Well, that price accounts for the two or so gallons you ran out all over the ground."
Two gallons of fuel is a pretty big mess. Especially diesel. It doesn't evaporate like gas. And he's gonna have to clean this up, so that's on Hagan for not paying attention to what the fuck he was doing.
"No way."
"You pumped it, you’ll pay for it," Eddie snaps. He's not taking this out of his paycheck. No fucking way.
"C’mon, just pay him," King Steve says, and Hagen rolls his eyes, but throws two bills, a ten and a five, at Eddie. Of course, they blow in separate directions. Fucker.
Eddie picks them up, and stomps back towards the store.
"I want my change!" Hagen yells, and Eddie turns around, walking backwards towards the door.
"Then you’ll have to come get it, this isn’t a full service station, sorry," Eddie says, and isn’t sorry at all.
Hagen comes in for his eighty-five cents, and as soon as he leaves with it, Eddie checks the supply closet for the absorbent. Of course, all they’ve left him with is an empty sack, so he heads over the household aisle and grabs the clay cat litter. Uncle Wayne uses it at home to soak up oil spills, so Eddie knows it’ll do in a pinch.
Eddie carries it outside in time to see Hagen driving through the diesel mess as he leaves, spreading it further. Eddie groans, and barely resists the urge to flip-off the car as it pulls onto the highway.
Eddie instead sprinkles the cat litter over the spill, trying to prevent it from running any further. Mr. Fairmont is going to be pissy with the stain already, and Eddie doesn’t want to make it worse by letting cars track it all over the fucking drive.
As much as he hates it, he needs this goddamn job.
Steve
Steve looks out the back glass as Eddie Munson shakes out cat litter all over the spill. Huh. Steve had wondered how Munson was going to clean that up. Steve doesn't think diesel evaporates, like gasoline.
Tommy is bitching about the extra money, and Steve is pretty sure Munson was in the right. You don't get to not pay, just because you spilled it. Tommy pumped it, even if it was out onto the ground. But Steve's not about to open that can of worms, so he just nods along. Going with the flow.
That's the easiest thing to do, Steve learned that a long, long time ago.
"He's a fucking freak. Rumor has it he's not going to graduate this year. Just what we need, him in our class," Tommy says, stomping down on the gas pedal.
Is it still a gas pedal if the car runs on diesel? Steve's not really sure.
The school year is barely underway, how the fuck could Munson already be is such bad shape that that he might not graduate in May?
And if that's true, how would Tommy know about it? They don't exactly run in the same circles.
It doesn't matter, Steve supposes.
Eddie
They are ships passing in the night these days, Uncle Wayne and him. So, Eddie scribbles Wayne a note, doodling on it as he sits at the kitchen counter and eats a bowl of cereal.
He's not sure the last time they've actually seen each other. All they have for showing proof of life are these notes they leave on the counter, back and forth, and the mess of dirty dishes in the sink that neither of them have found the gumption to wash quite yet.
Today, Wayne left him twenty dollars with his note and asked Eddie to buy groceries if he has time tomorrow.
Eddie will make time, even if he has to go late.
And late it was. The place is practically deserted as Eddie walks through the Big Buy, and tries to stretch the money as far as he can. He stands in front of the peanut butter choices, and squats down to get a generic jar from the bottom shelf. It's just as good, he thinks. Or maybe he's just not used to the name brand stuff.
Either way, with the difference in cost, it will definitely do just fine. Wayne won't care one way or the other.
Eddie hopes he's just about done growing. Neither him, nor Wayne, had been prepared for the amount of food he would consume throughout his teen years. It's like he's always hungry.
Wayne always says he has a hollow leg, without judgment.
But when Eddie asked Wayne why he didn't remember eating nonstop when he was a teenager, it didn't take much of his hedging for Eddie to understand that Wayne, and Eddie's dad, had likely just gone hungry a lot. Maybe that's why neither one of them turned out very tall.
Eddie's already taller, and he's been hungry since he's been with Wayne. Eddie's still thin, and he could probably eat twice as much as he does, but he's not truly hungry. Wayne's never allowed it to get to that point.
Still, Eddie looks at the price and adds it to his running total on the calculator on his watch. And his dumbass teachers said he wouldn't have a calculator in his pocket while they were struggling to teach him math. Well, he might not have one in his pocket, but one on his wrist is just as helpful.
He stands back up, and there's Steve Harrington pushing a cart in his direction. Just his luck. He figured Harrington had a maid to do his shopping, or at the very least, a mom.
Steve has always looked like a mama's boy. Not a hair out of place. Pleated khakis and polo shirts.
Eddie watches him out of the corner of his eye. Harrington's not paying any attention to prices, and doesn't even appear to have a list. He's just adding stuff to his cart all willy-nilly, like an animal.
Two different kinds of jelly at once. That's how the rich live, he guesses.
Eddie looks back at his remaining list:
Pretzels, bread, milk, eggs, bacon. Rice and beans. Some kind of cheap lunch meat. Imitation cheese-like slices.
He's not sure he's going to be able to stretch twenty dollars into all this, but he has some of his own money he can pitch in and just not tell Wayne. He knows Wayne doesn't want him helping with household expenses, but he can. He's old enough to help.
Plus, he's the one eating like a horse.
"Did you get it cleaned up?"
Eddie is working over his list in his head, like it's a puzzle when he realizes Steve must be talking to him. They are the only two people in this place.
Looking up, Eddie furrows his brow, "Are you talking to me?"
Steve is staring at him. "Well. Yeah. The diesel. Did you get it cleaned up?"
Oh. Yeah. He did.
"Yeah, I guess. Still stained the concrete."
Steve nods, "Sorry 'bout that."
Eddie nods, taking his apology. Whatever. It's just part of his shitty ass job.
Steve pushes his cart away, and Eddie continues to carefully pick and choose around the store. When he checks out, Steve Harrington is in front of him. Of course he is.
Two people in the store, and there's a line.
Steve sees Eddie, and smiles, just a little, but Eddie doesn't return the gesture. He doesn't need to be pitied by Steve Harrington in the fucking Big Buy checkout line. When Eddie doesn't smile back, Steve turns and hands over an amount of money that Eddie wishes he had in his wallet. And the fact that it was basically all used for junk food, is astounding.
Harrington had a lot of TV dinners, and that kind of surprises Eddie. Surely, Steve Harrington isn't in the kind of family that sits around eating out of foil tins in front of the television. That's way more of a thing that Wayne and him would do. If they could afford it.
Eddie waits his turn with his basket, and his pre-figures are pretty damn close, and he hands over the money without any embarrassing incidents. He can remember those from his childhood, his mom picking and choosing what to hand back to the cashier, who often looked at her with contempt for just daring to be poor.
It was bullshit.
So, Eddie avoids it as best he can. He's gotten good at figuring up the cost of things, so he doesn't have to hand back a jar of peanut butter or a carton of eggs.
He takes his change and shoves it into his pocket.
He's still got homework, so he's gotta get all this shit home and put away.
Steve
Steve sits on the trunk of his car in the Fair Mart parking lot. Eddie Munson walks out to refill the liquid for the windshield squeegee. They make eye contact as Munson walks back towards the front door, and Steve looks away.
He's embarrassed that anyone is seeing him this way, especially Eddie Munson.
Tommy comes back out with a cold can of Coke and a bottle of aspirin, demanding payment for them right away. Like Steve's not good for it. Like Tommy doesn't have the cash to spare, even if he wasn't.
Carol and him both start in on Nancy, and Steve's over it. Fuck this. Fuck them.
He's out.
When he drives through town, he sees two theater employees trying to clean the spray paint of the sign at The Hawk. Steve feels ashamed. He may not have been the one that actually did the deed, but he was a full participant.
He pulls over alongside the curb, and heads over across the street.
Eddie
Nancy Wheeler and Jonathan Byers are filling up gas cans. Lots of gas cans, and Eddie is standing there watching from the front window.
Huh.
He thought she was dating Steve Harrington. He looked like shit earlier, like he'd had the tar beaten out of him.
Now, Eddie might be bad at math, but it damn well doesn't take much to put two and two together.
Steve
Later that night, way, way later, Steve walks into the Fair Mart, and the fluorescent lights hurt his eyes. He doesn't know what he's looking for. Nothing, really. He's just moving on autopilot.
Monsters are real.
What the fuck is he supposed to do with that information?
"Do you need help finding something?" Munson asks, from behind the counter. Only a little bit snarky.
Steve shakes his head, "No. I'm just looking, I guess."
"Byers gave you a hell of a shiner," Munson says, and Steve nods.
"Yeah, I had it coming," Steve answers, because he did.
That seems to stop whatever Munson was going to say next right in its tracks. Good. Steve doesn't want to talk about it. He wants to talk about the monster he just fought off with a bat that's now in his trunk, covered in blood and gore, but knows Munson would think he's crazy if he did.
Maybe he is.
He can't possibly have just seen what he thinks he saw.
His hands are shaking.
"Are you gonna buy something or not? It's closing time," Munson asks, and Steve looks at his watch. It's splattered with blood. He tries to swipe it away, but it's dried on now.
He didn't realize it was this late. He's lost track of time. That's probably normal, once you've been thrown headfirst into hell. All he wanted to do was make amends. Apologize.
But no. Monsters are real and he feels numb.
"Oh. Sorry, looks like I made it just in time," Harrington says, and Munson looks at him, face unreadable.
Eddie
Does this asshole not know how time works? Hours of operation? Eddie is incredulous at this bullshit. What an asshole.
"That's not how this works," Eddie says, "It's after ten right now. That means you should be in your car, driving away," Eddie adds, moving his fingers in the walking away motion, "Not milling around, forcing me to keep my register open."
Harrington stops, and looks at Eddie with some really sad eyes. He looks like he might cry, and Eddie wasn't expecting that. Now he feels like the asshole in this situation. Fuck. He's gotta be having a bad day. He totally admitted that he got beat up by Jonathan Byers. That kid is soft. Eddie'd never admit to that under pain of death.
"It's fine, just hurry up, man. I've still got homework," Eddie says, trying to soften his tone, just a little. Harrington has clearly been through some shit today, and while that's not any of Eddie's goddamn business, he doesn't need to kick a man while he's down. He's an asshole, but he doesn't cheat to win.
Steve finally grabs a few things, seemingly at random, pays, and is gone.
Eddie
Eddie's sweeping the floor of the Fair Mart, the store closed for the night, when he hears the door rattle.
He takes off his headphones and looks towards the glass door. He can't see anyone in the dark, not with these bright-ass lights on inside the store.
Ride the Lightning is still blaring from the headphones as they hang around his neck.
"We're closed!" he yells, and pushes the broom further across the floor.
The door rattles some more, and Eddie huffs out a breath of annoyance, leaning the broom handle against the table of the booth.
When he gets to the door, it's Steve Harrington.
And his whole face is fucked up. Again. It's a mess of epic proportions. Eddie feels like he's getting déjà vu. He swears they did this last year.
Eddie unlocks the door.
"Harrington?"
Steve slips in through the door, and Eddie locks it behind him, out of habit.
Eddie notices the red bandana around his neck, "You know, if you're gonna rob me, you're supposed to wear that over your face."
Harrington laughs, just a little, but it must hurt, because he reaches up to hold his cheek.
"Do you have anything to help dull this? Weed. Or morphine, preferably," Harrington asks, dryly.
"What the fuck happened to you?" Eddie asks, looking at him.
"Billy Hargrove," he says.
Eddie is pretty sure he's witnessing the fall of Steve Harrington in real time. You don't come back from this, not in high school, he's gotta be done for.
"You really look like shit. Are you sure you don't have brain damage?"
"No more than usual," he says self-deprecatingly, and Eddie laughs, caught off-guard.
That was funny. Harrington is funny? Who knew? Not Eddie. That's for damn sure.
Eddie digs around in the drawer behind the counter, searching through what amounts to a very poorly stocked first aid kit. He comes up with a bottle of aspirin, and puts it back. If Harrington's bleeding internally, they shouldn't make it worse. He finally finds the Motrin, and takes it over to Steve.
Then, he gets and fills up one of the little paper triangle cups of water from the employee water dispenser. Because a real cup would be too luxurious for Eddie and the rest of the staff.
"Thanks," Harrington says, and Eddie nods, picking back up his broom. He supposes there's no reason Harrington can't sit there while he finishes up. He looks fucking pitiful, and Eddie? Well. Eddie likes to take in strays. It's kind of his thing.
So, he can't help himself. He goes over to the ice cream freezer, and pulls out a Choco Taco, and gets a Slice from the walk-in cooler. They're both new. He'll give Harrington something else to think about besides his busted up face.
Eddie slides them both across the table to Harrington, and Harrington nods in thanks.
Eddie goes back to the register and puts a dollar in it from his wallet to pay for both items. He's a lot of things, but he's not a thief, and he'd like to keep this job. Even if he hates it, and all the people that come in here, day after day.
When he's done sweeping, Harrington is sitting in the booth, eyes closed. Ice cream wrapper and pop can, both empty.
"I'm done here for the night, you ready to go?" Eddie asks.
Harrington nods, but he doesn't look ready. Not at all. He looks a little shaky and pale. Traumatized. He looks traumatized. Which is a little dramatic from a fight. Eddie knows he's been in those before.
"I have a joint in my van, if you want?" Eddie offers, and he's not sure why. They definitely aren't friends.
Harrington nods, "Thanks."
Eddie locks the door of the store behind them, and Harrington follows him to the van and climbs in the passenger side. It's fucking weird.
But Eddie digs out the joint, and passes it to him with the lighter.
Harrington takes a deep hit, and holds it in his lungs. Eddie's impressed. He figured this was gonna end with a bunch of coughing and carrying on.
It doesn't.
Then, he's offended. If Harrington's smoking weed, where's he buying it, if not from Eddie?
When Steve finally releases it, it's smooth, and he leans back against the headrest.
Eddie takes it back, and takes a hit himself.
"Are you sure you're okay? Why are you so dirty?" He smells terrible.
"I was down in a hole," Harrington says.
"Literally, or metaphorically?"
"Literally, unfortunately," Steve says, and takes another hit. Eyes closed.
Eddie looks at him, as much as he can here in the dark. Harrington really has been fucked up tonight.
"You look like hammered dogshit."
"Thanks," Harrington laughs.
Eddie smiles.
"My ear is ringing," he admits, "Hargrove hit me with a plate. Knocked me out."
Eddie doesn't know what to say to that. Sorry? Not that long ago, he'd have been actively rooting for King Steve to be knocked the fuck off his pedestal. Unfortunately, he likes Billy less than he likes Steve.
"You have to have a concussion," Eddie finally says, stating the obvious.
"Yeah," Harrington says, like he already knows that.
"Maybe you shouldn't sleep then," Eddie offers, and that's about the extent of his concussion expertise.
"Not a problem, I can't go home like this. My parents are actually home for once."
Eddie is not dragging Steve Harrington home with him like an injured stray cat. He's not. No way. No how. Not a chance in fucking hell.
That's never, ever happening.
"You can come home with me, if you want. It's just me. My uncle works nights."
Fuck.
Harrington turns his head, not pulling it up off the headrest, and looks at him.
"Okay. Yeah. Thanks. That'd be great."
"I live in the trailer park, so temper your expectations."
Harrington laughs, and smiles at him as he closes his eyes again.
"No sleeping," Eddie reminds him.
"Just resting my eyes. My very, very sore eyes."
"Are you okay with driving? Or are you leaving your car here all night?"
"I'll follow you," Steve answers, moving to get out.
Eddie watches him go.
What the fuck was he thinking? Inviting Steve Harrington to his house. Steve Harrington doesn't want to come home with home, except he does, apparently.
Steve
Steve's whole head throbs, but he concentrates hard, pulling out into the highway behind Eddie Munson.
What the fuck is he thinking? Following Eddie Munson home.
But he does, because it's not like he has anywhere else to go. He doesn't really have friends anymore. So, here he is, pulling up beside Eddie's van in front of the old, rundown trailer.
Eddie ushers him inside, flipping on the lights. Steve looks around. Mugs and hats line the walls, and every surface in the place has stuff sitting on it. It's cluttered, and lived-in, in a way his house has never, ever been.
People live here.
Eddie leads him back to his bedroom, and it's more of the same. It's filled to the brim with stuff, Eddie's stuff.
Steve's own bedroom is sanitized. Put together by his mother's interior designer, with no real thought given to his taste or interests. No clutter allowed. He's got a car poster that he didn't pick out, and that's about it. Set dressing.
Steve feels like he is set dressing at home.
But this room is like looking into the deepest recesses of Eddie Munson's brain. He likes it.
Steve thinks he must be stoned. He sits down on Eddie's mattress.
Eddie digs around in his dresser, finally throwing him a t-shirt and pair of sweatpants. Steve stands back up and starts getting undressed, and Eddie turns his whole body away.
That's weird.
But Steve guesses he just hasn't spent the same amount of time in locker rooms that Steve has.
He gets a whiff of himself, and he smells like decay. The demodogs, he's sure of it.
"Can I take a shower first? I stink."
"Sure," Eddie says, and leads him into the bathroom. More clutter, and a little lime scaly. There are no women living in this house, Steve is sure of it.
Eddie helps him with the trick to adjusting the water in the kinda gross shower, without scalding or freezing himself. Apparently, there's a very, very small margin of error.
And then Eddie leaves him.
Steve washes his hair, and his scalp is fucking sore. His whole face hurts.
School is gonna suck tomorrow.
Eddie
Eddie is trying to fall asleep on Wayne's fold-up in the living room, while Steve Harrington is in his bed.
What the fuck is happening here? Did he fall into another dimension?
Eddie isn't sure if Steve should sleep yet or not, but Steve said he was tired and going to risk it.
If Steve Harrington dies in his bed, the town will have his head on a pike by nightfall.
Steve
The next morning, Steve walks down the corridor at school with his head up. Fuck all these assholes. Monsters are real, and Billy Hargrove beat the shit out of him. So fucking what? Who cares?
He catches Eddie's eye, and nods, but Eddie looks away. Like Steve didn't sleep in his bed last night. Like they've never spoken, outside of schoolyard taunts. Like they didn't eat breakfast, standing, shoulder to shoulder, at the cluttered kitchen counter in the trailer just a couple hours ago.
Maybe he deserves that.
Steve looks away, too, and keeps walking.
Eddie
Eddie sits in the lone orange, Formica booth in the Fair Mart, trying to do his homework while it's quiet. The end of the night is usually deader than shit, so he can often try to squeeze in some homework so he doesn't have to stay up so late once he gets home.
He's gonna flunk Ms. O'Donnell's class. There's no way around it. He's not going to graduate. Again. He doesn't know why he's even bothering with this anymore.
If he does fail, he's not going back for a third time. He'll get his GED, if he can manage that, because he can't fathom another year in that hellhole.
He does fail. Again. And Wayne is hounding him, promising that the third time's the charm, which Eddie knows is bullshit. But he appreciates the vote of confidence, anyway.
He's stuck in summer school, just to get himself into a position to maybe graduate next year. It's embarrassing. He's not this stupid, he's pretty sure. The teachers all just hate him, and will do anything to keep stepping on his neck.
Eddie thinks they'd rather just get rid of him, but no, he's gonna be stuck in their classes again come fall.
At least he has Hellfire, and he hopes the new class of Freshman will have some good recruits. Their numbers are dwindling, and he can't do it alone with just Gareth, Jeff and Goodie. That's not enough people for the kinds of campaigns Eddie wants to create and run.
There's been whispers that they aren't gonna let him keep it, anyway. That he's too old, and that his focus should be on finishing school, not having fun.
Wayne said he'd take care of it, and Eddie knows he will.
Summer school sucks, and it makes for some long-ass days, especially when he works at night. Mr. Fairmont decided they needed to stay open later than ever this summer, and Eddie doesn't understand why. It's deader than dead. But at least he's being paid to do his homework.
It's the Fourth of July and he can hear fireworks in the distance in all directions, and then a siren. And another.
Until it's a whole fleet of them rushing by on the highway, and Eddie stands out on the drive, watching as they speed past, wondering where they're headed. That's a lot of vehicles to respond to something, so it must be big.
Eddie hopes it's not the plant. Hopes that Wayne is fine, and working, just like Eddie is doing.
Steve Harrington limps in, body stiff, with a horrible black eye and a missing fingernail, wearing a blanket over his stupid sailor outfit that has definitely seen better days. He looks rough, and sad.
Worn out.
And he reeks of smoke.
"Are you still open?" Steve asks, and well, that's an improvement, Eddie supposes. Usually, he just barges in and makes himself at home.
"Yes. What happened?" Eddie asks.
"Mall fire," Steve says, slumping into the booth.
Yeah, Eddie had heard from several customers that the mall was on fire. News spreads fast in small towns with nothing better to talk about, but Eddie hadn't assumed there'd been anyone in the mall. Surely it was closed, it was well after dark, on a federal holiday, no less.
But still, Eddie brings him a New Coke, and Steve cracks it open, nodding his thanks. Then, Eddie finds a clean-ish looking towel, and fills it with ice from the fountain machine, holding it out for Steve to take. "For your face."
Steve takes it, nodding in thanks as he presses it to his eye.
Eddie doesn't know how they've gotten to this place where sometimes Steve just turns up like a bad penny, bloodied and hurt, like he's looking to Eddie to fix it.
Eddie can't fix anything. He can't even fix himself.
He can't even graduate high school. He definitely can't fix Steve Harrington's internal or external wounds.
But he sits with him, looking at his purple eye, and blown pupils. Major head trauma? Or is he fucked up? He looks fucked up.
"Are you on drugs?" Eddie asks. And if he is, will he share?
Steve nods, adamantly.
"I got drugged by Russians. They pulled off my fingernail," Steve says, holding up his hand.
Okay. What's Eddie supposed to do with that information? Is it even true? Why would Steve have encountered Russians in the mall fire?
Steve
He shouldn't be here. He's gonna tell everything he knows. About the Russians. About monsters. About Hawkins.
"What do you know about linear equations?" Eddie asks.
And Steve is thankful for something else to think about. He's not the best at math. But he's not terrible either. He reaches over and takes the worksheet, and tries to focus his eyes on the problem Eddie's trying to work out.
Together, they figure it out, and for a few minutes of this godforsaken day, Steve feels normal.
Eddie
"She wanted to meet you in the woods and you said no?" Gareth asks, sitting behind his kit.
"Swear to god," Eddie says. Chrissy Cunningham wanted him to sell her some weed, but it felt like a trap, and Eddie wasn't into getting the shit beat out of him by Carver and his asshole friends. So he bailed. A last minute decision.
And then they found her dead outside Reefer Rick's. Brutally attacked and murdered. Eddie feels guilty, and he can't explain why. He didn't kill her. Rick didn't either, he's still serving time. But Eddie didn't help her when she asked. Maybe if he had, she'd still be alive.
He doesn't even understand how she knew about Rick in the first place.
Nobody else is as concerned about this as he is, clearly, and they start playing again. Eddie is turned towards Gareth, watching him drumming, when Gareth stands up suddenly, and the music cuts to a stop. Eddie turns to look to see what has caught all their attention.
It's just Steve Harrington pulling into the driveway.
"What the fuck is he doing here?" Gareth asks, rounding his drum set. Fire lit under his ass, defensive and hopping mad.
Eddie catches his arm.
"He's fine," Eddie says, and Gareth looks at him like he's lost his fucking mind. Maybe he has.
"Since when is Steve Harrington fine?"
Eddie shrugs. For a while now, though Eddie's been denying that.
Steve gets out of his car, looking so fucking tired and run-down.
There's a lawn chair right near the open garage door, and Steve sits down in it. Then he props his feet up on the upside down red milk crate that's sitting there, making himself at home.
Gareth makes a sound of annoyed disbelief at the audacity of this action.
Eddie cuts him a look, telling him silently to simmer down. Steve's not hurting anything or anyone by sitting there, even if it's weird to show up unannounced and uninvited. But their whole thing has been based on that. Steve shows up without warning, and Eddie is forced to deal with it.
It's a thing they do, and by now. A habit.
So, Eddie walks over and digs into the cooler beside Steve, and hands Steve a can of beer, sliding it down into a foam koozie first, to hide it a little from the prying eyes of the rest of the nosy neighborhood. They are already unpopular in these parts for the music alone.
No reason to add underage drinking to the list of complaints.
Steve nods in thanks, and cracks it open.
Eddie doesn't ask why he's here, and Steve doesn't offer, doesn't say anything at all, so Eddie goes back in the garage, giving Gareth a little shove back towards his drums. Then Eddie looks at Jeff, at Goodie.
Counting them back in.
And they pick back up where they left off, like nothing has changed.
By the time they've finished, Steve Harrington is asleep in the lawn chair, warm beer perched on his knee, right there in Gareth's driveway.
This is fucking weird. He's never sought Eddie out, at least not outside of the Fair Mart, before. He must think they're friends. They definitely aren't friends. That's ridiculous.
He takes the beer from Steve's hand, and pulls him up from the chair.
Steve climbs in the passenger seat of his own car, and Eddie guesses that means he's leaving the van here. He puts Sweetheart in the backseat of Steve's car, and then gets behind the wheel.
Gareth, Jeff and Goodie are just standing in a row in the doorway of the garage, looking at him like he's been possessed by the preppy devil.
He gives them a pointed look, and they stop staring.
If Steve Harrington knew how bad of a driver he was, this wouldn't be happening.
But he backs out of the drive, very carefully. And takes them back to the trailer, not sure where else to go.
Steve
Steve doesn't know what possessed him to just pull into Gareth Jones' driveway and make himself at home. He saw them, heard them, and was just so tired. Everything has been exhausting lately.
It's happening again, and Steve's tired of it.
If he's gonna be backed into a corner of fighting monsters again, he at least needs a nap first. And when he saw Eddie's van, he knew that'd be a safe place to do it.
Eddie
Eddie is driving Steve Harrington in his own car while Steve dozes.
"Your house?" Eddie asks, because he knows where Steve lives. They all know where Steve lives.
There have been numerous house parties Eddie has crashed, and before that, it was the best neighborhood for trick or treating when they were kids.
"Yours?" Steve mumbles, a question.
Eddie sighs. He guesses. Though, Wayne might be home to ask questions that Eddie would really rather avoid.
Steve is asleep on the couch, Eddie sitting on the floor in front of him, when Wayne opens the front door. Wayne looks at Eddie, then at Steve, and raises one eyebrow.
Eddie shakes his head, begging for Wayne to just let this go. Wayne does, putting his lunch pail on the counter before he heads for the bathroom.
When he comes out, showered, he sits in his chair, quietly.
"New friend?" Wayne asks, in a low rumble.
"No," Eddie says quickly, then feels guilty, "Yeah, maybe. I don't know."
"Fancy car he's got," Wayne teases, and Eddie smiles.
"Yeah, and I've gotten to drive it," Eddie teases.
"Lord, he's more trusting than I am, then," Wayne says.
Eddie laughs, and looks back at Steve, who's still sound asleep. Mouth slightly open, breathing in a soft snore.
"Where's the van?" Wayne asks. Eddie can read between those lines.
"It's fine. At Gareth's."
Wayne nods.
"He's…he's Steve Harrington," Eddie says, looking at Wayne, "and he keeps showing up for some reason, and I don't know why. This is the first time that he showed up looking for me outside of the Fair Mart, though. He came to Gareth's garage, and just…took a nap while we played."
"He slept through that racket?" Wayne teases, and Eddie grins.
"Shockingly, yes."
"Then you best let that boy sleep," Wayne states, and Eddie nods. That's exactly what he's been doing. He doesn't understand why Steve thinks this is a safe place, but it is, Eddie understands that, too. And has never taken it for granted.
Wayne's has always been safe, and he supposes there's no reason he can't share a little bit of that safety with someone else, even if that person is Steve Harrington.
Steve's laying on the couch, staring at the ceiling.
"It's starting again," Steve finally says, and Eddie doesn't know what it is, but Steve seems resigned. Chrissy Cunningham died last night. Fred Benson died today. Eddie knows that Hawkins is fucked up.
Eddie still doesn't know what to say to any of this. He feels guilty. If he'd just let Chrissy come over, maybe whatever happened to her could have been avoided. It's eating him up inside.
But he says nothing, and Steve doesn't seem like he was looking for anything from Eddie anyway.
When Steve leaves, he stands in the yard a little too long staring off in the distance towards the Crawford's, like he's in a daze.
Then, he's gone.
Eddie looks up as a RV pulls up to the pump, way too fast, nearly out of control. It looks just like the Crawford's Winnebago, the one that usually sits a few lots down in the trailer park. But he's never seen it move that fast, that's for damn sure.
Nancy Wheeler and Robin Buckley bail out, both wearing camouflage fatigues. Robin in a beret, and Nancy starts pumping gas. Robin has a box of red kerosene cans in her arms, and puts them down so she can start filling them from the dispenser out front.
Before he has time to really ponder what the fuck they're doing dressed like that, and in a probably stolen RV no less, Steve Harrington comes barreling down the steps.
Eddie should have known he was involved in whatever the fuck this is.
Steve's also in fatigues, and Eddie doesn't feel any way about that. He doesn't. Honest.
Steve runs across the pavement, up to the door, and Eddie looks down, wiping the already clean counter. Ignoring him. Ignoring this nonsense that he never understands. He doesn't want to understand, so that's okay.
Because Steve never explains, never has a reason or an answer. Everything he's ever done only gives Eddie more questions to ponder.
And this time is no different, apparently.
But today, Steve rounds the counter and grabs Eddie's arm, pulling him back into the employees only office. Where Steve's definitely not supposed to be.
Eddie squawks at being dragged around. If he gets caught with Steve Harrington back here, he's definitely gonna get fired.
But then Steve Harrington pushes him up against the wall and kisses him. Hands in Eddie's hair, and Eddie can't do anything besides kiss back.
He fists his hands in Steve's jacket, and arches into him.
Steve Harrington is kissing him, really kissing him, like it's the last thing he'll ever do.
Then, the moment is broken by Robin Buckley screaming for Steve out in the front of the store, and Steve pulls away.
"Steve," Eddie says, and he feels like he sounds stupid. Like he didn't see that this is where this thing between them was always headed. Maybe he didn't. He has taken his senior year three times.
"I just. We're. I don't know. I wanted to do that," Steve stumbles over his words, then looks right at Eddie. Strokes his thumb over Eddie's cheek. "I just wanted to do that."
Eddie nods, dumbly.
He wanted Steve to do that, too.
Staring at him, up close, he can see a bruise around Steve's neck that looks like he's been strangled. Eddie's fingers graze it, and Steve's eyes slip shut. "What happ—"
"STEVE!!" Robin yells again, more urgent, and Steve jerks back further.
"Bye, Eddie. Thanks for everything."
And then he runs off.
When Eddie follows, Steve is already banging out the front door, following Robin, and they've left the money for the fuel on the counter.
Eddie watches them all climb into the RV, sees Steve getting into the driver's seat, and then they pull away.
Eddie swallows. He thinks maybe this was the last time he'll ever see Steve Harrington, for some reason.
When Steve turns up in the middle of the night, he's filthy and the bruise around his neck has darked. He smells like kerosene and death.
Eddie grabs onto him, and pulls him close.
Steve starts to cry and Eddie doesn't know what happened to him, to the town, tonight. The town is split wide open. Gareth's house fell into it. He's fine, his mom is too, nobody was home. But his house, the garage, Gareth's drums. It's all just gone.
Steve is clearly split wide, too. He's ragged and raw, and Eddie doesn't know what to do for him. If there is anything he can do for him.
"It's okay," Eddie says, and hopes that is true.
"It's not," Steve says, and Eddie holds him tighter.
Eddie gets him out of his tattered clothing, and ushers him towards the shower. Steve lets him, like his brain has shut down.
"Your back," Eddie says, fingers hovering, careful not to touch. He was dragged by something, that much is clear. A rope, maybe.
Steve's standing there naked, covered in all these unexplainable marks.
There are puncture wounds all over him. His sides. His chest. They look deep, and on the edge of infection, maybe.
Like he's been bitten by something. Gnawed on.
There's a deep, angry one on his thigh. Eddie tries to focus on it, and not anything else that's currently right in his face. For example, Steve's heavy dick, hanging soft.
Not the time, not the place.
"We'll have to clean those up," Eddie says softly, "Wash them real good."
Steve nods, and closes the curtain behind him.
Steve
Steve rests his forehead on the shower wall, letting the warm water beat against his destroyed back. It fucking hurts, everything hurts, but he's too tired to care. It needs to be cleaned anyway. He didn't think he was gonna make it after the bats had a hold of him.
Still didn't, even as Robin and Nancy showed up to help fight them off. Everything after was just tinged with unbearable pain.
They didn't win. Vecna disappeared. This isn't over. It'll never be over.
And he's so goddamn tired.
Of fighting.
Of monsters.
Of feeling so alone.
Eddie
Steve lays his face against Eddie's chest. His wet hair is damp and cold, soaking through Eddie's t-shirt. He's seen Steve in all manner of disheveled, but this is new. He looks younger, and older, both at the same time somehow.
Eddie had picked debris out of Steve's wounds, doctoring them as carefully as he could. Steve never flinched. Like he was checked out, somewhere else far away.
Now, he breathes heavily as Eddie holds him as tight as he dares.
"Monsters are real. This town is rotting from the ground up."
Eddie doesn't know what the fuck that means. But he's not terribly surprised.
He's seen how Steve comes to him, beaten, bloody and broken. He has been fighting something for a long time. Something worse than Jonathan Byers and Billy Hargrove.
The same Billy who died in the mall fire, and Eddie suddenly has a lot of questions about what really happened that night.
"I don't…"
"Monsters. Demogorgons. And the dog version. The Mind Flayer. Vecna."
"Those are from D&D," Eddie says, and maybe Steve has cracked. Maybe he's lost his mind.
"Dustin Henderson named them," Steve says, pressing his fingertips into Eddie's ribs.
Eddie nods. That tracks. Henderson is his favorite little lost sheep.
"We tried, tonight. We weren't enough."
"I'm sure you did your best."
"Look at this place? We failed. I always fail."
Eddie just holds him tighter, and doesn't say a word when it's clear he's crying.
Eddie had dozed off when Uncle Wayne bangs into Eddie's room, startling them both, causing Steve to tense up next to Eddie.
"You're here," Wayne says, looking just a touch frantic. Eddie nods. He's here. "Half the plant fell into a hole. Earthquake, they say. Never seen no damn earthquake look like that. You're okay?"
"We're okay. You're okay?" Eddie asks back, even if Wayne looks fine.
Wayne nods, and pulls the door closed.
Steve is still tense.
"Hey. It's okay. He's like me. He knows. He doesn't care."
Steve relaxes, little by little.
"What can I do for you?"
"Nothing. This. Just this," Steve says, so Eddie does just that.
In the morning, Steve gets up. He looks exhausted and dejected.
"I told Robin I'd take her to the Red Cross volunteer thing," Steve says.
Eddie nods.
"Do you want to come?"
Eddie nods again.
He doesn't, not really, but he'll go help if that's what Steve wants him to do.
They stop by Steve's house, which is still standing, and Steve changes clothes while Eddie sits perched on the edge of Steve's couch like he's in a museum.
When Steve comes bounding down the staircase, he's dressed, looking like Steve Harrington. Not a hair out of place. Looking totally normal.
A mask, Eddie realizes.
Eddie's seen behind it now, and it hurts his heart to know that Steve is so adept at schooling his face into normal that nobody probably even realizes he's doing it.
They pick up Henderson and Robin Buckley, and bring in boxes of stuff to donate to those that need it.
Once inside, Eddie sorts clothes alongside Steve, and folds them better than he's ever folded any of his own. Ever.
He stands next to Steve Harrington, and works. Quietly, comfortably.
Later, Steve pulls Eddie on top of him, arms wrapped around him, squeezing tight. Eddie's sure he must be hurting Steve, with all those bat bites, but Steve seems to want this. Need it. So, Eddie kisses his cheeks. His bruised neck. And brushes soft kisses against his lips. He still can't believe he's kissing Steve Harrington.
"I'll take care of you," Eddie whispers. Someone needs to, that much is obvious.
Steve nods. His nose grazing Eddie's cheek. "You always have."
Eddie
Vecna returns.
Steve was right when he knew that he would. This was just a lull in the action. A pause for them to try and catch their breath.
"Stay here," Steve says, holding Eddie by the shoulders. He has the trashcan lid shield and a spear that Eddie and Henderson had built in preparation slung over his shoulder. They made what they couldn't get smuggled in, and Eddie helped. Not really knowing what they might need, if. When.
Eddie shakes his head. He can't just stay here.
"I can help you, surely I can do something to help you guys?"
Steve is shaking his head adamantly. He's never waivered on his assertion that Eddie was not getting involved. He'd involved him enough by going to him, by telling him anything at all.
"Just be here when I get back."
Eddie can't just sit here and do nothing now that he knows.
He wants to kiss Steve goodbye, but there are too many people around. Too many prying eyes.
Steve takes a step away.
Eddie follows, "Hey, Steve?"
Steve turns, waiting.
"Make him pay."
Steve nods, and then he's gone.
Steve
The radio tower jerks, lurching dramatically, and Steve is knocked off balance. Fuck. Shit. He knows he's going over.
And then, he's gone. Tumbling over the ledge. He catches the edge, and tries to hold on. Fingers digging into metal. He thought his life would flash before his eyes. But it's not everything, it's just—
Eddie.
But the movement, Steve's momentum, his weight, it's all too much. He loses his grip, and falls.
Somehow, Jonathan grabs his hand and pulls him up.
Steve's breathing hard, adrenaline pumping, and Eddie can never know how close he was to falling to his death. He'll get too wound up.
He's almost died lots of times. What's one more?
Eddie
When Steve comes home, he's wearing a backwards baseball cap, his hair curled around the edges, and is covered in some sort of dried gloop that smells like straight ass.
"Jesus Christ," Eddie says, disgusted, despite being so happy to see him.
As is tradition, Eddie ushers Steve towards the shower, only this time, Eddie gets pulled inside with him. Crowding near him, running his hands over Steve's body. Checking for any visible injuries.
He doesn't find any.
"Is it over?" Eddie asks as Steve lathers his hair for the third time.
Steve looks lighter. Happier. Like the weight of the world has finally been lifted off his shoulders.
Steve cracks open one eye, swiping away the shampoo that's running down his forehead, and smiles.
"It's over."
If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @corrodedcoffinfest and follow along with the fun! 🦇
Notes:
I'm so excited that this one is finally finished. I started it in, checks notes, June 2023. Just days after I finished posting Tuesday's, haha. Of course other things moved to the front burner, but when I was digging through my files, I realized this would be perfect for Bingo. It was always called Here You Come Again, based off the Dolly Parton song. So, I dug it out, dusted if off, and finished it.
Choco Tacos and Slice were both introduced in 1984.
The red milk crate, lawn chair and cooler are present on screen in the Corroded Coffin garage practice scene. Just waiting on Steve, apparently.
I didn't want to get into the weeds too much with what would have all changed without Eddie being involved in the Upside Down in S4. That way madness and 20k words lies, haha. This fic was always meant to only cover the very small pockets of time when the UD reared it's ugly head, and Steve was forced to go toe-to-toe. But I did assume that Steve was still (somehow) attacked by the bats, and that they would have worked him over even worse, because they were down a person, with Eddie not there to help bat them away.
have we considered. Steve believing all the rumors about Eddie throughout high school but having a crush on him anyway. his fantasies are basically “he’s evil but what if i were his favorite”
and then he gets to know him after S4 and he’s just a gooey marshmallow
@tangerinetravis yeahhhhhh. the reason he was so bitter about Dustin hanging out with Eddie wasn’t even jealousy it was “I genuinely believe what I’ve heard and am worried for you”. In the UD he went from “this is a guy I want to fuck but NEVER let near my children” to “he’s my coparent now it will be a spring wedding”
@precioussteveharrington Steve so timidly admitting to Eddie that he crushed on him thinking he was evil and he thought that was hot. And he thinks Eddie’s gonna be mad that he bought into it but Eddie’s just quiet for a minute and then his voice gets deep and his eyes narrow and he goes. “You could’ve just told me you like bad boys”
He's a freshman in high school and this nice drug dealer guy is showing him how to smoke a joint so he doesn't beef it in front of all his friends, and...he's kinda cute.
And then Steve kisses him.
And Eddie kisses back.
And they're making out at a random table in the woods until - "Whoa."
"You okay?"
"Sorry," Steve says. "Sorry, man. I'm actually going to do the whole gay thing - bi thing? I think I still like girls - in a couple of years. I want to be popular first."
"...We can still do this if you're in the closet. I can keep a secret."
"I’m not in the closet. I’m just going to be - whatever I am later."
Eddie is just, "... You're scheduling being gay?"
Steve thinks about it and, "...Yes."
"You can't do that."
"Um, yeah I can. Free country."
"What," Eddie starts and stops. He takes a breath and asks, "Do you have 'be a homosexual' penciled in your calendar four years from now?"
"I don't think they make multi-year calendars like that."
Because that's the only issue with this conversation, not pushing your gay awakening down the road. Eddie can't even point out that all of this is absurd because Steve is just like, fingerguns, "Anyways, if you're free in a couple years, hit me up."
"For what, a meeting on the gay agenda?"
"Or to make out," Steve shrugs as he packs up his stuff. "You're a good kisser. See ya, Munson."
Eddie doesn't hit Steve up.
And then Steve shows up after the Upside Down tries to eat them with an old planner like, "Hey, man. I think we have a meeting."
Eddie Munson, who looks feral enough some days that you’d believe he chomps down on rare beef without chewing, is actually only still alive because of sweet potatoes.
When he'd first arrived on his doorstep, three foster families in and nearly silent, Wayne had been pretty focused on just keeping him alive. There wasn’t a lot of extra cash floating around most weeks, but what he had, he spent on random treats he assumed kids liked. Colourful packages of cookies, cereal boxes with insanely dressed cartoons on them, and pastries that somehow tasted decent from the toaster.
Eddie wouldn’t eat any of them.
Wayne was at a loss. He’d thought, at 40, that he was never gonna be a father. Hadn’t prepared his life for the care and feeding of another living being. He didn’t even have a cat. There were things that people…like him. Well, they just weren’t meant to have families of their own. It was fine. He’d filled his life differently. But it meant that when his idiot kid brother fucked up once again, and his son had started floating around the universe, well. It didn't matter that he wasn't really ready. Wayne was hardly going to let that stand.
And Eddie wasn’t weak. He was hilarious and caring, a little firecracker of a kid who knew what he liked and wasn’t afraid to tell you. Wayne was enamoured; every day with an eight-year-old was an adventure he’d never anticipated having.
But he could not get the kid to eat.
He’d pick at anything Wayne handed him, politely taking bites every now and again. He was obviously eating enough to stay alive, but there was no excitement about food. None of the kid staples seemed to work.
Finally, in desperation, he just sets Eddie loose in the grocery store and tells him to pick whatever he wants. He anticipates regretting this choice. But Eddie, who is never shy, comes back with a single produce bag of lumpy, small sweet potatoes.
“These are my favourites,” he says quietly, placing them in Wayne’s basket. “Orange taters. Don’t know how to make ‘em, though.”
“No problem, kid,” Wayne says, baffled. “I’ll show you. We can make them together. Want anything else?”
“Nah, you cook good. Just missed orange taters.”
This is how Wayne discovers that his sister-in-law had never cooked anything that wasn’t frozen or from a box. A tiny detail, but it explained so much about Eddie’s relationship with food.
“Orange taters it is,” Wayne said, grabbing a few more.
That night, Wayne sliced up the sweet potatoes, tossed them with a little oil and salt, and roasted them until the edges caramelized. Eddie’s eyes lit up when Wayne set the plate in front of him. The kid devoured them, asking for seconds before Wayne had even sat down with his own portion.
After that, sweet potatoes became a staple. Wayne learned every possible way to prepare them; mashed with a little cinnamon, cut into fries, baked whole with butter melting into their centers. Eddie would eat anything if sweet potatoes were involved. Wayne started sneaking other vegetables alongside them, watching as Eddie’s hollow cheeks filled. Watching as Eddie opened up, taught Wayne how to freely be exactly who you were. Watching as Eddie took over cooking, preparing more vegetables than Wayne had ever known were available, like a five-star chef, dragging home library books of new information.
Seventeen years later, he can’t help but remember that little boy in the grocery store as he watches Eddie nervously fly around the kitchen of their little townhouse. It’s home now; now that his son had come back to him, now that he knew life was even more complicated than he’d thought. It was nice. Big enough for a family of two.
“You know he already likes you, right?” he teases, grabbing a second mug of coffee as Eddie flourishes a towel.
“Unc. Please. Not now. This is the most important meal I have ever cooked.”
“Sure,” he snorts. “Cuz that kid ain’t gonna say yes if he doesn’t like the pot roast. He already lives here.”
“Wayne,” Eddie says seriously, freezing.
Wayne raises his hands. “Sweet potatoes are burning.”
He dips out of the kitchen before the tea towel hits him in the back. He knows that everything will be fine. He’s excited, actually, to have both his kids in the same place. Cuz Steve Harrington, who’d never had much of a family of his own either? Yeah.
thinking about that one HC of eddie being originally from appalachia before moving to hawkins and steve going absolutely feral every time the accent slips out, so here’s a tiny ficlet about steve realizing it’s basically his kryptonite
They’re in the horror aisle at Family Video, doing what they always do when it’s dead: finding the worst covers known to man.
Robin holds one up that looks like it was drawn in crayon. “This one,” she announces, “is a crime.”
Eddie barks out a laugh. “Lord, have mercy,” he says, and it rolls out of him warm and thick, a little different than usual.
Steve freezes.
He’s heard Eddie talk a million times. Ranting, scheming, flirting, yelling over amps. But this is… softer. Rounder. It hits his ears and lights up some stupid part of his brain like, oh. Oh, that’s new.
“Okay, where the hell did that come from?” Steve blurts.
Eddie blinks. “What?”
“That.” Steve points at him like he’s just witnessed a crime. “You sounded like, like a whole other guy for a second.”
Color crawls up Eddie’s neck. He shrugs one shoulder, all defensive and twitchy. “Nowhere. Hush.”
“No.” Steve is immediately, deeply annoying about it. “Absolutely not. Say it again.”
“Not a chance, Harrington.” Eddie shoves a VHS into his chest. “Go alphabetize something.”
“Robin,” Steve whines, turning on her like a traitor witness. “Did you hear that? He did a voice.”
“Oh, yeah,” she says, gleeful. “Country boy jumped out.”
Eddie groans, shoving his hair back. “I hate both of you,” he lies, and stalks off down the aisle.
Steve follows, grinning, tossing movies back on the shelf. “C’mon, just one more ‘Lord, have mercy.’ Just for me. Just a little one.”
“Drop it, Steve.”
He does not drop it.
By the time they close up, Steve’s said “Lord, have mercy” in three different terrible impressions, and Eddie’s told him to shut up in at least five creative ways. The accent doesn’t come back, though, and Steve goes home weirdly, stupidly disappointed about it.
—————————-
Later, they’re at the trailer, door propped open to let in the night air. Some crappy late-night talk show mumbles on the TV, volume low. They’re half lying, half sliding off the couch, feet tangled on the coffee table.
Eddie’s flipping through a battered magazine. Steve’s not even pretending to do anything else; he’s just watching him.
“You’re staring,” Eddie says without looking up.
“You’re avoiding,” Steve shoots back. “Say it again.”
Eddie drops the magazine onto his face for a second like he wishes for death. “You are so persistent.”
“Yes,” Steve says. “I am. We’ve established this.”
Eddie peels the magazine away and eyes him. Steve is sprawled out, hair a mess, socked toes nudging his thigh. He looks… annoyingly sincere.
“One word,” Steve says. “One. Then I’ll shut up forever.”
“Liar.”
“Okay, I’ll shut up for, like, ten minutes.”
Eddie snorts. He should say no. Dig his heels in. But there’s this warm, fizzy feeling in his chest that he doesn’t want to look at too closely, and Steve’s looking at him like he hung the damn moon.
“You’re real persistent, ain’t you, sweetheart?” Eddie says finally, letting it come out the way it wants to, vowels soft, consonants a little lazier, the word sweetheart wrapped up in the drawl he’s been choking down for years.
Steve’s brain short-circuits.
It’s like someone unplugged and replugged him in a different outlet. His stomach does this weird swoop. His face goes hot. Something about the sound of it, about Eddie saying sweetheart like that, all slow and easy, hits directly behind his ribs.
“Oh,” Steve says, a little breathless.
Eddie raises an eyebrow, already smirking. “There. You happy now?”
“No,” Steve says, and then he’s moving before he really decides to, leaning over the tiny space between them.
He kisses him.
It’s not planned. It’s not smooth. He just goes on impulse, mouth landing on Eddie’s with a soft, shocked sound like he surprised himself. His hand catches on Eddie’s shirt, fingers fisting in the worn fabric without thinking.
Eddie makes a tiny noise, half gasp, half laugh, and kisses back on instinct, then pulls away just enough to see Steve’s face. Steve’s flushed, wide-eyed, looking at him like he just handed over the Holy Grail.
There’s a beat where Eddie could pretend he doesn’t know exactly what just happened. Then he feels the grin pull at his mouth, slow and sharp.
“Oh, yeah,” he says, letting the vowels go loose on purpose now. “I can work with this.”
Steve swallows. “Eddie.”
Eddie leans in again, close enough that Steve can feel his breath, and drops it low, sweet, a little smug. “Watch me, darlin’.”
Steve practically launches himself into the next kiss, and that’s when Eddie realizes he’s just unlocked the most unfair advantage in the world.
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