also heynonnyhey on AO3. follows, likes, comments, etc are from maggiemae873. this is where I put things that fans create for fans. no, I don't write, but I do read a lot and tend to leave really weird comments 😅 no rhyme or reason to it ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
Fic where Steve gets dumped at the airport before they’re supposed to board a flight home for his high school reunion which is just -
“Great,” He says to no one. To the empty space his fiancé had been. To everyone still clearly listening in. “That’s just great.”
He’s on the reunion committee.
He helped plan this reunion.
Whats he supposed to tell everyone now?
That he moved out to prove that he could make it on his own and couldn’t? That he ended up with a shitty job at his dad’s shittiest subsidiary as a result? That the only good thing going in his life was his engagement and turns out they’d been cheating on him the whole time??
“Tough break,” The guy next to him says. “I’ve never seen anyone run through an airport to dump someone. That’s crazy.”
“That’s like, a reverse romcom,”The guy continues. “That was a hate-tragedy.”
“Yes, thank you,” Steve bites out. “I know, okay? I know, I’m a peaked on high school loser incapable of doing anything right. I’m sure enough people will remind me over the weekend, so I don’t need some rando-“
“Eddie.”
“Some rando named Eddie to remind me, okay?”
“Thanks not what I’m doing,” Eddie grins. “I’m offering a solution.”
Steve raises a eyebrow, “Am I being solicited?”
“No,” Eddie says. “Well, a little but listen. My flight has been delayed three times and I’ve got nothing better to do. I’ll go with you to your little shindig, talk you up, be your boyfriend, or whatever.”
Steve’s eyebrow goes higher, “And what do you get out of it?”
“A ride to the closest airport in the morning?”
Silence falls between them before Eddie rolls his eyes. He flops back on his chair like a child about to throw a tantrum.
“Come on,” He complains. “I’m bored and you clearly need someone in your corner. Just say yes.”
“….Okay.”
In six hours, Steve is going to learn that this Eddie guy isn’t just some rando at the airport. He’s the guitarist in a band that everyone apparently knows.
Eddie, working in a coffee shop, has this regular that does not tick a single box of his, and yet he's lowkey obsessed with him. Like, the guy should be way too preppy and boring to do anything for Eddie 'The Freak' Munson, and yet...
He knows the guy works in some kind of sales because he's overheard a conversation or two with his lesbian friend who comes in with him. He knows the guy wears glasses but only if he's doing paperwork. He knows the guy likes chocolate chocolate chip muffins and makes a mess when he eats.
But he still can't figure out why he gives a shit. The guy is literally wearing a sweater vest for fuck's sake.
"Excuse me," Eddie hears above him.
He pops up from restocking the drip filters to find the guy smiling at him. "Yeah? What's up? I mean, how can I help you?"
His smile goes a bit wider. "I was wondering if I could use your phone. It'll just be a second."
"Uhh, sure. Yeah, over here." He shows the guy over to the shop phone, giving him a wan smile when he gives his thanks.
Like, yeah the guy is cute or whatever but nothing about him is even remotely interesting to Eddie, so why are his palms so sweaty after one non-coffee related interaction?
He doesn't even bother not listening to the phone conversation, just stands at the counter with a rag, wiping.
"Hey Cara, it's me, can you patch me through to Amanda? What, why? What do you mean he- I just left, I told him not to- Exactly! That's exactly what I told him. Yeah, patch me through. Of course, I'll let you know. Thanks."
Eddie has to take a customer's order but he doesn't think he missed much, by the time he's back the guy is calmly asking, "Did you think I wouldn't find out? I've got eyes and ears all over that office, Doug. The Miller account is mine. I worked hard on that account and I'm not letting you take the credit while I'm gone. No. No, we're not sharing. Because you sat on your ass and did nothing while I wined and dined them, you flaccid excuse of a man."
Eddie's ears are as perked as they can possibly be.
"Go ahead and try, and then after Hank calls me into his office and we get done talking shit about you, maybe I call your wife and take her up on that offer to go skiing. No, I'm pretty sure it was a real offer considering where her hand was when she made it."
Holy shit, this is better than daytime television.
"Oh yeah? Well how about this? After I get done fucking your wife, I fuck your son next."
Eddie drops an empty mug on the floor. When he looks up, the guy has his hand over the receiver and whispers, "He's in college," like that's what Eddie was worried about. "I'm not threatening him, I'm threatening you. Only threat he's under is having a good time. He got all Pam's good looks, it wouldn't be a hardship. You know what, think I'll keep them both on retainer. How's that?" He shoots Eddie a wink. Because Eddie is still staring. Fuck. "Go ahead. Yeah, I dare you. Tell him everything. And then ask him about what happened to the last guy who tried to snipe my accounts. You're new, I'll cut you some slack this time, just keep your greedy little hands off my accounts and I'll keep my hands off your family. Sound good?" He smiles like the cat that got the canary while the guy can be heard shouting down the line. "Don't be a sore loser, Doug. Tell Pam and Cory I said hi."
With that he hangs up; the confidence oozing off of him nearly chokes Eddie.
"I get it now," Eddie whispers in bewilderment.
The guy smirks. "What?"
"You're insane. That's why I'm obsessed with you."
"You're obsessed with me?" He asks, hands jammed into his pockets, like he might say 'Golly gee willickers' next.
"Completely."
The guy creeps forward, all sweetness, leans in and says, "So, you wanna make me an offer? I'm a popular guy you know. Cory is pre-med." Butter wouldn't melt in his mouth, the absolute bastard.
"I'll blow you, right here, right now. Cory ain't got nothin' on a nerd like me who's had to work for it."
The guy takes one hand out of his pocket and runs a finger across Eddie's collarbone. "I don't know... Pam looks like she got pretty wild back in the day..."
"I don't have a gag reflex."
"Sold."
Eddie turns and shouts, "Bev, I'm taking my 15!"
"15? I guess if you don't want me to reciprocate..."
Lawyer!Steve AU where he works at his father's firm and gets handed all the pro bono cases because he's the only one that actually cares about these people's fates and wants to help them if he can.
One day, his dad hands him a murder case; not his first one, but not the kind of case they usually accept pro bono. Too much work to be done for free, his father had said once. So, imagine Steve's shock when he opens the case file and sees that their client is being accused of murdering a young woman.
Edward Munson, age 29, mechanic, is being accused of murdering Chrissy Cunningham, age 27, in the woods next to Forest Hills Trailer Park, Hawkins. Chrissy was stabbed six times in the chest, bleeding to death in minutes. There were no witnesses to the crime, but the murder weapon was found close to Munson's trailer.
And that's it. No more evidences, nothing else to confirm anything; just a weapon found close to where their client lives and the police thought it would be reasonable to arrest the man and lock him up for, oh my God, the guy's been in jail for six fucking months already.
Steve spends two days going over every single piece of paper, every single document in the file. When he's sure he's got everything analyzed at least twice, he takes his things and drives to the detention center his client is being held.
It takes Steve five minutes to find out that Munson isn't very cooperative, and five more to find out that he's an asshole.
Steve tries to talk to him, tells Munson he thinks his case is not hopeless, that he thinks the accusation is weak and that maybe he can convince the judge to at least accept to change Munson to house arrest while he waits for his trial.
Munson doesn't say a word. He stares at Steve with blank eyes and doesn't open his mouth once.
After Steve finishes explaining everything, Munson asks, "Are you done?"
When Steve says yes, Munson just says, "Good," then gets up and asks the guard to take him back to his cell.
This shocks Steve so much he stays there for a minute too long, staring at Munson's empty seat as if doing it would bring the man back somehow.
Then, comes the anger, and Steve stomps out of the detention center slamming the door behind him.
Steve goes back to the firm and starts studying the case all over again, looking for things that he might have missed. He calls the police and tries to talk to the officer who arrested Munson, but he's informed the man doesn't work for the Hawkins Police anymore. When Steve asks for the man's address, the receptionist tells him the man left Hawkins with his family a couple of months ago.
This rings an alarm in Steve's mind, his instincts telling him there's something wrong with the case.
He drives to the detention center again the next day and Munson is just as uncooperative as before; He lets Steve talk and talk, then gets up and leaves.
It's infuriating, especially because Steve knows there's something very, very wrong there. The lack of a real case, the missing cop, Munson's arrest under weak, almost inexistent evidences that links him to the crime. It's all very shady and weird and full of holes and Munson's apathy makes no sense at all.
Steve's dealt with criminals before, it's his freaking job to do so, and Munson's behavior just doesn't fit the description. Criminals usually use every single chance they have to convince everyone of their innocence; they cry, they lie, they do anything they need to get out of jail, but Munson does nothing of the sort.
His apathetic behavior is what makes Steve believe the man might be holding something back. Because it's not even as if Munson was admitting he's guilty and resigning himself to his fate. Not even that. He acts as if he doesn't care about what happens to him, as if trying wouldn't change anything, so he just doesn't.
But, well, if Munson can be stubborn so can Steve. Steve starts going to the detention center almost daily.
The first week, Munson keeps the blank attitude, never saying anything and barely looking at Steve at all.
By the second week there's a change. It's small, but it's there. When Munson sees Steve there, he can't hide his annoyance anymore. He still refuses to acknowledge Steve's attempts, but it's clear the lawyer is getting under his skin.
This just makes Steve double his efforts.
By the fourth week Munson finally snaps. When the guards bring him to the room where Steve is waiting for him, he's barely sitting on the chair before he's snarling, "Why the fuck are you still here? What do you want??"
Steve doesn't flinch. "I want to help you," he says.
Munson scoffs. "A pretty boy like you, helping trailer trash like me? Yeah, that sounds reasonable."
And, see, Steve could just give up. He's not really getting paid to do any of this, his father gave him this case because he loves fucking with him and handing him cases he considers lost causes just to see Steve fail. But his damn insticts keep telling Steve there's more to it than what the files are telling him, that Munson knows things that can change everything.
Even more, he knows that by giving up he'd be doing exactly what his father expects him to do, and hell will freeze before Steve gives his dad this satisfaction.
"Wanna know why I'm doing this?" Steve asks then, and the slight anger in his voice catches Munson's attention.
He doesn't answer, but he does raise his eyebrows in interest.
"Because my father gave me your case expecting me to fail," Steve admits, leaning forward on the table separating the two of them. "He loves doing this, giving me cases he thinks I can't handle just to show me I'm the same useless kid who could never meet his expectations. But guess what, your case is not a lost cause. It's full of holes and the ends don't meet. I know I can get you out of here, but you need to talk to me and tell me what really happened the night Chrissy was found dead close to your trailer because, if you don't, the police's side of the story is gonna be the only side of the story. Are you really gonna let them dictate what's true or not?"
It works.
Steve can't quite believe it, but his little speech fucking works. There's a glint of amusement in Munson's eyes, as if only then he's seeing Steve and considering his words for real. His lips curl up the tiniest bit, as the man finally relaxes on his chair.
"An asshole father, huh? I can relate." Pale fingers toy with the chain linking his handcuffs to the table for a moment, before Munson looks Steve in the eye for the first time. "Do you really wanna know what happened that night?"
"Yes, I do."
"Fine. Then I guess I can cooperate with you, Mr. Harrington."
Steve makes a face, distate clear as day. "Mr. Harrington is my father. I'm Steve."
Munson grins at that. "Okay, Steve. I'll tell you my story, and then you see what you can do with it."
with the amount of heat/rut leaves constantly happening in the omegaverse, I imagine there has to be a special firefighter position where they just pick up open shifts at stations needing coverage
what if alpha Eddie only works at the 118 when someone is on leave?
unmated omegas and alphas take a week every few months, but mated ones and those on suppressants are more stable. they might only need leave once a year
swing firefighters aren’t utilized often, so they switch stations a lot. Eddie has been doing the job for a while before he ever meets the 118
the first few times he works at the 118’s station, he’s actually covering for Buck’s heats. they’re erratic and more frequent than usual since an injury forced him to wean off his suppressants, throwing his cycle into an unpredictable whack
it means he’s missing far more work than usual and Eddie Diaz is his assigned coverage
every time Buck returns from leave, he hears the entire station talk about how amazing Eddie is. they say he’s fearless and incredible under pressure, a natural born hero
Buck hides his hurt by getting petty. he complains that Eddie used his locker and he left food in the fridge
everyone else laughs it off as Buck being dramatic. they tease him, pretend to call him the wrong name, “Diaz,” and act like they forgot he’s even returned from his leave
by the time his field partner, Ravi, goes on his annual heat leave, Buck doesn’t welcome Eddie in kindly
instead, Buck finds every possible opportunity to inconvenience and annoy Eddie as payback
it’s never done at the cost of hurting anyone or interfering with their jobs, but Buck shuts down any small talk and purposely pretends not to hear Eddie ask him to pass the salt at meals
after a full week of covering Ravi’s shifts, Buck can tell his behavior is taking a toll on Eddie and he thinks he’s won. Eddie won’t cover any of his future heat shifts now that he thinks Buck is an asshole
the 118 won’t be able to compare them if Eddie isn’t around anymore
at the end of the last of Ravi’s heat shifts, Buck walks to his Jeep triumphantly, head held high and proud of his work
he’s so lost in his victory that he doesn’t notice Eddie following right behind him until he gets pinned against the car and caged in by the strong alpha
“you wanted my attention, Buck. now you have it. what the actual fuck is your problem, man?” Eddie nearly growls in his face
Buck hasn’t seen the guy lose his cool all week, no matter what he did or said. it’s a bit shocking to see Eddie finally snap
“you are, Diaz,” he hisses
Eddie rears back as if he’s been slapped, putting some space between them
“you don’t even know me. I’ve been working with your crew for months without any issues and suddenly I’m being treated as if I did something wrong. what did I ever do to you?”
Buck deflates at the directness of the question
because the truth is that he knows Eddie hasn’t actually done anything wrong. his only real “crime” is being good at the job and making Buck feel inferior
his presence in the station has been like a constant reminder to Buck that he’s not good enough, even at his life’s purpose
Buck admits in a shamed whisper, “you came here with your stupid alpha heroics and your damn silver star. you made my whole team wish I wasn’t working here because they like you more. you wanna know what you did to piss me off, Diaz?”
Eddie takes the bait
“what did I do, Buck?”
“you didn’t just fill my shifts, you replaced me,” he tells the alpha, holding back angry tears at his confession
the look of sympathy on Eddie’s face doesn’t make him feel better, especially when he knows that logically his issue isn’t even with the swing firefighter himself
“if you heard the way they all talked about you when you’re on leave, you’d never say that, Buck”
huh?
he sniffs, wiping at his eyes to hide the evidence of his breakdown
“what do you mean by that?”
Eddie gives him a soft smile, tentatively squeezing the omega’s shoulder
“the entire station adores you. whenever I cover your shifts, the crew complains about missing your baking or say how they wish they could get your opinion on their new haircut. it’s nonstop,” Eddie chuckles. “I was actually really looking forward to finally meeting you this week”
Buck feels his cheeks heating up as he mulls over Eddie’s seemingly honest words
and the embarrassment starts to creep in too
he’s spent all week being a playground bully to Eddie in order to solve some nonexistent problem and the alpha apparently wanted to be his friend
“I’m so sorry,” Buck mumbles his apology to his shoes
“you should be”
Buck’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise at the quick response, but he sees Eddie smiling at him now
the mixed signals are confusing to say the least
Eddie continues, “you’ve been driving me crazy for months”
and he’s lost now
“how could I drive you crazy? I’ve not even been here!”
Buck realizes how hypocritical that sounds considering Eddie’s been the bane of his existence without ever meeting him, but Buck can’t think what he could’ve done in return to annoy Eddie prior to this week
the alpha chuckles at his confusion before offering up an explanation
“your locker… your gear. everything you touch. you usually work right up until your heat, so all your things are drenched in your scent and it makes me feel a little insane. this is my job, I’m used to being around heat scents, but your scent is the best thing I’ve ever experienced in my life”
oh. that’s definitely not what Buck was expecting to hear
of course he noticed how attractive Eddie was the day they met (and he’d heard stories before that too), but his distaste for the alpha overshadowed his base attraction
until now
“m-my scent?” Buck squeaks out breathily
Eddie’s back in his space, leaving no room between their bodies as he speaks directly into the omega’s ear
Buck is immediately grateful they were the last to leave for the night
“the first time I got fully hit in the face with it, I almost needed to get coverage for my own spontaneous rut”
he wants to call Eddie’s bluff, skeptical that anyone would be that affected by his scent, but then he can feel the bulge in the alpha’s pants pressing insistently against his thigh and he reconsiders
“why did you wait so long to say anything? I’ve been here all week with you”
Eddie chuckles low in his ear, hot breath on Buck’s neck causing him to shiver and his thighs to clench as he feels slick starting to run down his leg
“because, sweetheart… I’m not employed by the LAFD. I work on short term contracts, but as of 10 minutes ago, I’m a free man again and I can do this”
and then Eddie’s got both hands cupping Buck’s face while he locks their mouths together in what is the most intense kiss of Buck’s entire life
they finally break apart after a long minute, panting for air, lips still brushing
“I have a roomy backseat,” Buck offers
Eddie pulls them both inside
they don’t leave the parking lot that night until Buck’s been fingered open, eaten out until he’s squirting all over Eddie’s face, and gushing around the alpha’s knot with promises of pups
by the next week, Buck’s convinced Bobby to offer Eddie a full time position with the team
One movie, one confrontation, and one shared bucket of popcorn makes Eddie start to realise that maybe he never really knew Steve at all—and maybe, just maybe, he wants to.
Also on AO3 [Here]
Eddie Munson has been waiting for weeks for this movie to come out.
It’s a low-budget horror flick with a cult following and a killer soundtrack. None of Eddie’s friends were available or particularly interested in going, but that’s fine, he wasn’t going to let that stop him. He’s got his overpriced popcorn, a drink the size of his head, and a seat smack in the middle of the theatre. Perfect.
Or it is up until Steve Harrington walks in.
Eddie notices him immediately. It’s hard not to. He’s got that hair, that walk, the tiny moles on his face that make him look soft and a great body. The subject of Eddie’s most hopeless, pathetic high school crush. And of course, he’s not alone. There’s a girl on his arm, pretty in a polished, too perfect kind of way.
He watches, curious despite himself. Steve’s always been a bit of an enigma. Eddie’s heard the stories. King Steve. Heartbreaker. Every bit the stereotypical leader of the jocks, treating women like objects and everyone else like loyal subjects for him to look down on.
But what Eddie sees now doesn’t match up with those stories at all.
Steve opens the door for the girl with a soft, “After you,” and she brushes past him without a word. When she stumbles on the stairs, he catches her gently by the elbow, murmurs an apology for touching her without warning, and offers his arm for balance the rest of the way.
Eddie blinks. Huh.
They settle into their seats two rows down and directly in front of Eddie.
Of course they do.
The movie doesn’t start for another thirty minutes, not even trailers yet, but Eddie’s already more interested in the Steve Harrington Show than whatever’s going to be on screen. He feels like he’s getting a sneak peek behind the scenes into Steve’s world and it’s nothing like he imagined.
They sit. She shivers under the AC, and Steve immediately shrugs off his jacket and offers it to her. Then he offers to switch seats so she’s not directly under the vent.
Surprisingly, Steve’s the perfect gentleman. He asks about her day, offers her popcorn, and laughs at a joke that leans more mean than funny—though Eddie catches the subtle flicker of discomfort in his posture when she’s not looking.
He compliments her hair and outfit, asks what kind of music she’s into, and even admits to liking '70s rock. It’s something Eddie never expected to hear from him but can’t help respecting. It’s the kind of detail that makes Eddie pause, realizing with a jolt that they might have a few songs in common. And that’s unexpectedly disarming.
Steve even double-checks if she’s sure she’s okay with horror movies, offering to see something else if she’s not.
“Why? Are you scared?” she teases.
“Terrified,” Steve replies with a grin. “But I figured if I screamed, you’d protect me.”
Eddie nearly chokes on a kernel of popcorn.
That was smooth. Like, actually smooth. It wasn’t cocky or rehearsed. It was playful and self-aware. The line showed Steve didn’t take himself too seriously, a refreshing contrast to the image-obsessed popular kids Eddie had grown up resenting. He leans forward slightly, eyes narrowing like he’s trying to solve a tricky riff. That line might’ve even worked on him. He’s always been a sucker for someone who knows how to be a little silly without losing sincerity.
“Huh,” he mutters, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. He shifts in his seat, suddenly more invested in this pre-show than the actual movie he’s paid to see.
But then the girl leans in, voice low and suggestive. “I didn’t expect you to take me on a date like this. When I said we should watch a movie, I thought we’d grab one from the rental store and watch it at your place. Or, you know… somewhere more private.”
She walks her fingers up his chest in a way that makes Eddie want to gag.
Eddie rolls his eyes. Here we go.
He braces for the shift; the moment Steve drops the nice guy act and becomes the player everyone says he is. The moment he starts acting like the stereotypical meathead jock who only cares about getting girls into bed and out again before they get too attached. God forbid a straight guy have actual emotions or care about someone beyond the surface.
But it doesn’t come.
“Oh,” Steve says, shoulders going stiff. He takes hold of her hand and moves it away from his chest but holds onto it gently. “I thought we could spend some time together. Get to know each other. This is just our first date, after all, right?”
“I guess.” The girl shrugs. “I just thought you were supposed to be into showing girls a good time. I’ve heard the rumors.”
Steve laughs, but it’s nervous. Hollow. His eyes flick toward the fire exit like he’s considering a tactical retreat.
“Yeah, uh… you don’t need to worry about that,” he says. “I was kind of a mess in junior year. I’ve learned a lot since then. Hookups were fun, sure, but they never really felt good after. I’d rather have something real now.”
“Hmm,” she says, unimpressed and takes her hand back, turning back to the screen.
Eddie frowns. Something about her tone grates on him. Dismissive. Like Steve just offered her a piece of himself and she tossed it aside without looking.
He shifts again, but this time it’s not out of amusement. His smirk is gone, replaced by a furrowed brow and a faint scowl. He watches Steve fumble through the conversation, trying to be honest and vulnerable and getting nothing but attitude in return.
And it bugs him. More than it should.
Maybe it’s because he’s seen too many guys like Steve get away with being jerks. But here’s Steve, trying to be better, trying to be real, and this girl’s treating him like he’s a joke.
Eddie knows what that feels like. To be misunderstood. To have people assume the worst of you based on old stories and high school gossip. And it sits right on his last nerve to watch it happen to someone else.
The conversation shifts.
Not in a dramatic way. There are no raised voices, no sudden outbursts, just a slow, steady unraveling. It’s like watching a thread being pulled loose from a sweater.
The girl starts interrupting Steve. Not just once, but over and over. She talks over him, cuts him off mid-sentence, contradicts him just to do it. When he mentions liking a certain band, she scoffs and says they’re overrated. When he shares a memory about a summer job, she calls it boring.
Eddie watches it all unfold like a car crash in slow motion.
Steve doesn’t snap. Doesn’t even push back. He just absorbs the impact of it. Smiles tightly. Tries to steer the conversation back to neutral ground. He’s patient, too patient. Like he’s used to this and he’s trying not to make a scene.
Eddie’s scowl deepens.
He doesn’t know why it’s bothering him so much. Maybe it’s because he expected Steve to be the problem. Expected him to be the shallow one. But instead, he’s watching Steve try—really try—to be kind, to connect and make something work. And this girl is steamrolling him like he’s not even there.
It’s uncomfortable. And not in the way Eddie usually enjoys.
The lights dim. A hush falls over the theatre. The trailers are about to start.
And then she speaks again.
“Oh wow, look at that,” she says, pointing down toward one of the lower rows. Her voice is just loud enough to carry. “I bet they think no one can see them because the lights are off.”
Eddie follows her gaze.
Two men. Sitting close. Hands intertwined.
Something drops in his stomach.
“Gross, right?” she laughs, looking at Steve for agreement.
The sound is sharp. Ugly. It cuts through the quiet like a knife.
Eddie freezes.
He doesn’t know those guys. Doesn’t need to. Because he knows that feeling. The one where you let yourself believe, just for a second, that you’re safe. That you can be like the people who are allowed to love their partner openly. That you can feel normal, just for one precious moment.
And then someone like her reminds you of exactly what the world thinks of you.
His jaw clenches. His grip tightens on the armrest. He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath through his nose and braces himself for the inevitable crushing blow of hearing his straight boy high school crush agree that men who like men are gross.
It doesn’t come.
Eddie cautiously opens his eyes.
Steve doesn’t say anything at first. But Eddie sees the way his shoulders have gone rigid, the way his head has dipped slightly, like he’s trying to disappear into the seat. And that’s when Eddie knows.
This isn’t just secondhand embarrassment. Her comment hit him somewhere deep.
The girl leans in again, not picking up on Steve’s body language silently screaming at her to stop, voice low but still audible. “I mean, it’s just weird, right? Why do they have to do that in public? It’s not like anyone wants to see it.”
Eddie’s blood runs cold.
Steve shifts. His hands curl into fists on his knees. Then, quietly but firmly, he says, “Shut up.”
The girl turns, startled. “Excuse me?”
“I said shut up,” Steve repeats, louder this time. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
He watches the girl recoil, stunned, and then scoff like she’s the one who’s been wronged. “What crawled up your ass all of a sudden?”
“They’re just two people who like each other,” Steve says. “They’re trying to enjoy a date. How is that any of your business?”
Eddie’s breath catches.
He doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak. Just stares at the back of Steve Harrington’s head like it’s suddenly the most fascinating thing in the world.
Steve had said something. Not just something, he had stood up - loud and clear and without hesitation - for two strangers. For people like Eddie. Eddie’s heart is pounding, but not from fear this time. It’s something else. Something warmer. Fiercer.
“Because it’s weird.” The girl doubles down,
“You wouldn’t think it was weird if it was those two people over there who were holding hands.” He gestures toward a man and woman sitting together near the front of the theatre.
“That’s different.”
Steve turns to her fully now, eyes sharp. “How?”
“Because it’s two men. It’s wrong. It’s disgusting,” she says. “I’d say the same if it were two women.”
Steve flinches hard, like he’s been physically hit.
There’s a beat of silence. Heavy. Final.
“I’m very close to someone who’s gay. And they’re smarter, kinder, funnier, and better than you’ll ever be,” Steve says, voice low and steady. “This date is over. Don’t bother calling me.” He goes to stand, but the girl shoves him back down and rises from her seat instead.
“You don’t get to walk out on me, I’m walking out on you,” she snaps. “I only came on this stupid date because I was bored, and I thought you’d wanna fool around like you supposedly do with all the other girls anyway. Turns out you’re a disappointment.”
She grabs her purse, mutters something under her breath, and storms out, heels clicking angrily against the floor.
Steve doesn’t watch her go. He just stares straight ahead, jaw tight, hands still clenched on his knees.
Eddie swallows hard.
He wants to say something. ‘Thank you for saying that,’ maybe. Or ‘that was brave’. Or even just ‘hey’. But all he can do is stare, stunned and a little breathless, because Steve Harrington just shattered every expectation Eddie ever had of him. And now Eddie’s sitting here while a laundry detergent commercial plays loudly in the background, heart in his throat, wondering how the hell he ever thought he had this guy figured out.
Steve puts his face in his hands and exhales deeply, like he’s trying to calm himself down. He seems tired now, defeated. Something about that doesn’t sit right with Eddie after what he just witnessed. It spurs him into action. He doesn’t know what he’s doing. He just knows he can’t keep sitting there without saying something.
So, he stands. Walks down the steps. And stops at Steve’s row.
Steve hears the footsteps and looks up, startled. His expression flickers—confusion, then recognition, then something like wariness.
“Hey,” Eddie says, voice low. “Mind if I sit?”
His heart is hammering out a beat that would rival the work of the drummers in his favourite metal bands. He’s still mentally preparing himself for this Steve to disappear and be replaced by the jerk that had existed in his brain for the past few years.
Instead, Steve blinks at him, surprised. “Uh… sure? Eddie, right?”
“That’s what all the legends call me,” Eddie confirms, dropping into the seat beside him. There’s a beat of silence. Then he turns to look at Steve and “You okay?”
Steve lets out a breath, a small smile appearing on his face. “Yeah. I mean, not really. But I will be.”
Eddie nods. He doesn’t push. Just lets the quiet settle for a moment. Then he says, “So that was a lot.”
Steve huffs a laugh. “Yeah. Not exactly how I pictured the night going. I assume you heard everything?”
“Yep. She sucked,” Eddie says bluntly.
Steve snorts. “Yeah. She really did.”
Another pause. Eddie shifts, glancing sideways at him. “You didn’t have to say anything,” he says. “But you did.”
Steve shrugs, but there’s tension in his shoulders. “Didn’t feel like a choice.”
“That’s kind of the point, though,” Eddie says. “Most people would’ve just let it slide. Pretended they didn’t hear it. You didn’t.”
Steve’s quiet for a second. Then he says, “I’ve let too much slide before. I’m not doing that anymore.”
Eddie studies him. There’s something in Steve’s voice, something tired, but solid. Like a line’s been drawn and he’s not stepping back from it. And Eddie feels that twist in his chest again. That strange, warm ache.
“I meant every word I said,” Steve adds, softer now. “I have a close friend, more like a platonic soulmate really, who’s gay and the best person I know." He looks wounded. “And hearing someone I put enough trust in to consider dating basically call that person gross and disgusting and wrong... I couldn’t just sit here and listen to that crap.” His fists clench. “It’s one thing if it’s me she’s saying those things about but-”
He turns to face Eddie, his eyes wide and hands shaking as he realises the implications of what he said.
And Eddie knows that feeling.
He’s worn that same expression before. In locker rooms. In hallways. In classrooms where someone said something cruel under their breath and everyone else just laughed. But Steve Harrington? King Steve? He’s not supposed to know what that feels like.
Except he does.
Eddie nods slowly. “It’s okay. I figured.” He admits as casually as possible to try and ease Steve’s panic, although he’s still reeling over the events of the past few minutes. “You’re safe with me,” he promises.
Steve’s tense shoulders deflate, and glances at him curiously. “You?”
Eddie meets his eyes. “Yeah. Me.”
There’s no shock in Steve’s face. No judgment. Just a quiet kind of understanding.
“Cool,” Steve says. And he means it.
Eddie lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. Then he grins, crooked and a little shy.
“You know,” he says, “you’re not what I expected.”
Steve raises an eyebrow. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. You’re kind of a dork from the bits of conversation I overheard before things went bad.”
Steve laughs, and it’s real this time. “Takes one to know one.”
They sit in silence for a moment longer, their eyes lingering on each other, then Steve fully relaxes into his seat and turns to face the screen. “Well, no sense in wasting my ticket,” he says, then he holds his popcorn bucket out to Eddie, who’s only just realised he left his behind. “Wanna share?”
Eddie grins and grabs a handful. “Thought you’d never ask.”
—————————
It’s the most fun Eddie’s had in a while.
Steve leans into his space every now and then, whispering snarky commentary about the characters’ terrible decisions and even worse fashion choices. He especially tears into the asshole jock character, which catches Eddie off guard in the best way.
Eddie starts leaning in too, throwing in his own jabs, and before long, they’re trading quips like they’ve done this a hundred times before. At one point, one of them says something so ridiculous that they both dissolve into laughter. It’s the kind that’s breathless and uncontrollable.
Someone turns around and shushes them, loud and annoyed.
They immediately straighten, whispering apologies like guilty schoolkids. But the second the person turns back around, they catch each other’s eyes and grin, barely holding back another round of hysterics.
Steve nudges Eddie’s shoulder with his own, playful and warm.
Eddie nudges back.
If the small, friendly gesture sends goosebumps up his arms, well—that’s for Eddie to know and nobody else to find out.
Then, near the end of the film, the tension ramps up. The music swells. Eddie’s leaning forward slightly, eyes narrowed, when a sudden jumpscare hits and Steve gasps. Before Eddie can even register what’s happening, a larger, warmer hand grabs his.
Eddie freezes.
Not because he’s scared of the movie—though the jumpscare was decent—but because Steve Harrington is holding his hand.
Tightly.
Warm fingers wrapped around his own, palm pressed flush against his. It’s instinctive, a reflex, but Steve doesn’t pull away. Doesn’t even seem to realize he’s doing it at first.
Eddie doesn’t move. Doesn’t breathe. He’s not sure if it’s the shock or the fact that his heart is currently trying to beat its way out of his chest, but he’s rooted to the spot.
Then Steve seems to realize what he’s done. His grip loosens slightly, but he doesn’t let go. Instead, he glances sideways, eyes wide, a little sheepish.
“Sorry,” he whispers. “Didn’t mean to grab you like that.”
Eddie turns his head slowly, meets his gaze. Steve’s face is flushed, his expression somewhere between embarrassed and apologetic. Eddie could make a joke. He could laugh it off, tease him.
He doesn’t.
Instead, he gives Steve’s hand a gentle squeeze.
“It’s okay,” he murmurs. “You can hold on if you want.”
Steve blinks. His eyes search Eddie’s face for a moment, like he’s trying to figure out if he’s serious. Then he smiles, small, grateful and a little shy. It warms Eddie to his very core.
He doesn’t let go.
They sit like that for the rest of the movie. Their shoulders brushing, hands clasped between them and fingers intertwined, the flickering light from the screen casting soft shadows across their faces. Eddie doesn’t even remember how the movie ends, but he remembers the way Steve’s thumb brushed lightly over his when the final girl shared a kiss with her love interest.
And he knows, without a doubt, that something’s changed and shifted between them. It’s something small, but at the same time monumental.
As the lights come up, Steve sighs. He gives Eddie’s hand one last squeeze before letting go and standing to stretch. Eddie’s hand falls to his lap, suddenly cold, and he stares at it for a second like it might still remember the shape of Steve’s fingers.
He already misses the warmth. The weight. The quiet reassurance of it.
“Did you drive here?” Steve asks suddenly.
Eddie blinks, caught off guard. He expected this to be the end. He expected they would just awkwardly part ways in silence after this, try to lose each other in the small crowd exiting the theatre and then avoid each other for the most part. Maybe they would share a nod or a half-smile the next time he wandered into Family Video, but that’s all Eddie had hoped for.
He hadn’t hoped for this, for Steve waiting for Eddie to stand too, still looking at him like he wants to keep talking.
“Uh, yeah,” Eddie says. “My van’s out back.”
Steve nods. “Cool. I parked a few rows over. You wanna walk out together?”
Eddie’s heart stutters. He stands slowly, trying to play it cool. “Yeah. Sure. Why not?”
They fall into step as they exit the theatre, the buzz of the credits still echoing faintly behind them. The lobby is mostly empty now, just a few stragglers and the hum of vending machines. Outside, the night air is cool and quiet, the parking lot bathed in soft yellow light.
For a moment, neither of them says anything.
Then Steve glances over, hands stuffed in his jacket pockets. “Thanks for sitting with me. I didn’t expect… well, any of this.”
Eddie shrugs, but there’s a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Yeah, me neither. But I’m glad I did.”
Steve smiles back, and it’s that same small, shy one from earlier. It makes Eddie feel like he’s standing too close to a bonfire, especially now with the glow of the streetlights illuminating Steve’s features. They reach the edge of the lot where their cars are parked a few rows apart. Eddie slows, not quite ready to say goodbye.
Steve hesitates too. Then, almost nervously, he says, “Hey, uh… are you hungry?”
“Yeah,” Eddie says, slower this time, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Yeah, I could eat.”
Steve’s face lights up, just a little. “There’s a diner a few blocks from here. It’s not fancy, but they’ve got decent fries and terrible coffee.”
“Sounds perfect. Lead the way, sweetheart.”
The pet name's out before Eddie can stop it.
His brain short-circuits the second it leaves his mouth. His eyes go wide, and he immediately wants to rewind time, shove the word back down his throat, and pretend it never happened.
Shit.
He curses himself silently. Nicknames have always slipped out like second nature around his friends, bandmates, even the occasional stranger. But this? This is Steve. And this moment feels different. More fragile. More real.
He risks a glance at Steve, fully expecting confusion, maybe discomfort.
But Steve’s just looking at him with that same soft smile. A little surprised, sure, but not upset. If anything, he looks… pleased?
“Sweetheart, huh?” Steve says, raising an eyebrow, but there’s a teasing lilt in his voice.
Eddie lets out a breathy, nervous laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s a reflex. I swear. I’ve called random people on the street ‘darlin’ and the guy working the counter at the gas station ‘babe’ before now.”
Steve hums, clearly amused. “Didn’t say I minded. But now I’m a little jealous of the guy at the gas station.”
Eddie blinks. “You didn’t? …You are?”
“Nope, not at all. And yeah, I am.” Steve starts walking, hands in his pockets, glancing back over his shoulder with an exaggerated pout. “Thought I might’ve been special for a second there.”
Eddie wants to kiss that look right off his face, but he reels that thought in fast. Steve’s probably just joking. Just sharing friendly banter with a guy he knows won’t hurt him for it. Who is Eddie to deny him that experience or make it awkward by assigning a deeper meaning to it?
“What can I say, Steve?” he shrugs. “The man sometimes gives me discounts on my favourite brand of cigarette. How can you compete with that?”
Steve bites his lip, clearly trying to stifle a smile. Eddie’s eyes lock on his mouth.
“I can think of a few ways,” Steve says, voice low, suggestive and just a little nervous as he sways into Eddie’s space. He gets close, so close Eddie’s stomach swoops.
Then a devilish grin curls at the corner of Steve’s lips.
“Last one to the diner pays.”
“Wha—” Eddie starts, dazed.
But Steve’s already taken off running, his laughter echoing behind him.
“Hey! That’s no fucking fair! You’re rich!” Eddie shouts, already breaking into a sprint.
Steve turns, running backward for a second just to flash him a grin. “Better catch up to me then!”
Eddie cackles, wild and breathless, as he chases after him. He sees the moment Steve realizes he’s gaining fast and the flicker of panic that crosses his face. Steve hadn’t counted on the fact that Eddie Munson has years of experience running from trouble.
Trying to push his legs to work faster turns out to be a fruitless effort for Steve because Eddie manages to catch him around the waist and spin him away from the front door of the diner just as he’s about to reach for the handle. They almost end up sprawled on the ground together from the momentum of it, but Steve manages to grasp Eddie’s forearms and fix their footing as the metalhead leans against his back and laughs uncontrollably.
They stand there for a second, tangled up in each other, catching their breath. Eddie leans into him, still chuckling, and Steve can’t help but laugh too, the sound bubbling up from somewhere deep and giddy.
“You’re fast,” Steve says, glancing over his shoulder.
“You’re slow,” Eddie counters, grinning like he’s won the lottery.
Steve rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling too. “You tackled me.”
“I redirected you,” Eddie says, mock-offended. “With grace.”
Steve turns in his grip, still holding onto Eddie’s arms, and they’re suddenly face to face. Close. Closer than they’ve been all night. The laughter fades into something quieter, softer.
Eddie’s eyes flick to Steve’s mouth for just a second. Steve notices.
For a heartbeat, neither of them moves.
Then the diner door swings open behind them with a loud ding, and a couple walks out, chatting loudly and breaking the moment. Eddie steps back, clearing his throat. “Guess we should, uh… go inside before they run out of terrible coffee.”
Steve nods, still smiling. “Yeah. Let’s go.”
————————
“So, what you’re telling me is that you’re basically a single parent to six?”
They’re sat in a booth in the back corner, chatting animatedly and occasionally stealing each other’s fries even though they got exactly the same thing. They’d foregone the crappy coffee for milkshakes though, Steve’s strawberry and Eddie’s chocolate.
“Seven if you count Erica, Lucas’ little sister,” Steve corrects him. “But jury’s still out on whether she’s actually a child or whether Lucas is just living with the consequences of feeding a mogwai after midnight.”
“God you are such a nerd,” Eddie laughs, delighted. “’Mogwai’? You didn’t even use the incorrect term - ‘gremlin’ - like most people would. You just went straight in there with ‘mogwai’.”
Steve grins, clearly pleased with himself. “What can I say? I take my pop culture references seriously.”
Eddie leans back in the booth, shaking his head with a smile. “You’re a walking contradiction, Steve. You look like you should be quarterbacking some all-American football team, but you talk like you’ve got the entire catalogue of Family Video memorised.”
Steve sips his milkshake, eyes twinkling. “Maybe I do.”
Eddie raises an eyebrow. “Do you?”
Steve shrugs, all faux-casual. “You’ll have to hang out with me again to find out.”
Eddie’s caught off guard for a second, not by the words, but by the way Steve says them. Like it’s not a joke. Like he means it. Eddie, who’s spent most of his life waiting for the other shoe to drop, finds himself hoping just a little that maybe this time it won’t.
He smiles, softer now. “So, if you don’t mind me asking, how does King of the jocks and certified lady-killer Steve Harrington become an actually decent and interesting guy with a brood of little lost ducklings?”
Steve leans back in the booth, fingers idly tracing the condensation on his milkshake glass.
“It’s a long story, but I guess I just got tired of pretending I wanted the same things I used to,” he says. “Back in high school, it was all about the image. The parties, the girls, the reputation. I thought that was what I was supposed to want. What everyone expected from me.”
Eddie watches him, the teasing gone from his expression.
“But somewhere along the way, I realized I didn’t want to keep chasing something that never really made me feel good. I started figuring out that what I actually want is something that feels real. Something that lasts.”
He glances up, meets Eddie’s eyes. There’s something open in his expression. It’s unguarded, but cautious. Eddie’s heart does something strange in his chest, tightens and softens all at once. He reminds himself that shouldn’t be reading into things; Steve might just be getting used to having someone he can talk to about all this.
He nods slowly, voice quiet. “Yeah. I get that.”
They share a soft, secret smile.
“So,” Steve says. “You like metal, right? I don’t think I’ve ever listened to that before. What do you like about it?”
It’s a hard pivot in the topic of conversation, but Eddie allows it. Mostly because the fact that Steve seems to realise how important music is to Eddie and makes a point to ask him about it. Eddie’s eyes light up at the question, and he sits up a little straighter.
“Oh man, where do I even start?” he says, grinning. “Okay, so it’s loud, it’s chaotic. But it’s also honest. It doesn’t pretend to be something it’s not. It’s raw and messy and emotional, and it doesn’t apologise for any of it.”
Steve watches him, chin propped on one hand, milkshake forgotten for the moment.
Eddie continues, more animated now. “And a lot of the songs are about overcoming adversity. About going through hell and somehow still fighting and persevering. It’s about taking back power when the world is trying to crush you. It makes me feel confident for a change, like I could take on anything. And people complain that it’s just noise but that’s so far from the truth. It takes so much talent and years of dedication and-”
He pauses, his eyes flicking to Steve’s, suddenly self-conscious. “Sorry. I’m rambling.”
Steve shakes his head, smiling. “No, I like it. You talk about it like it’s more than just music.”
“It is,” Eddie shrugs, a little sheepish. “It kind of saved my life, y’know? When everything else felt like it was falling apart and I had nowhere I belonged, metal was the one place I could just be and feel accepted. No masks. No pretending.”
Steve’s expression softens. “That makes sense.”
There’s a beat of quiet between them, not awkward, just full. Like the air’s thick with things unsaid but understood. Then Steve leans forward, a playful glint in his eye. “So, if I wanted to dip my toe into the world of metal, where would I start? What’s, like, the gateway drug?”
“Really? You want to give up your metal virginity?”
“Didn’t have to put it like that,” Steve says, his face scrunching up in a way that’s far too cute to do anything good for Eddie’s heart.
“Okay, you’re coming over to my trailer as soon as possible and I’m going to play you some songs. I’m already mentally writing a list. This is gonna be so good.” Eddie laughs ecstatically and rubs his hands together deviously. “We’ll make a metalhead out of you yet, Steve.”
“I’m looking forward to it,” Steve replies, his expression so open and honest that it gives Eddie pause.
Eddie’s demeanor turns softer. “You don’t have to like it though, y’know. I won’t be offended.”
“I know,” Steve meets his gaze, steady. “I want to understand the things that matter to you.”
Eddie’s caught off guard again. His heart does that weird fluttery thing, and he has to look away before he says something stupid.
“Cool,” he says, voice a little rough. “Yeah. Cool.”
They go back to their fries, the silence between them now warm and companionable. Outside, the neon sign of the diner flickers softly, casting pink and blue shadows across the table.
——————————
The bell chimes above their heads and a nice, middle-aged lady calls out a, “Thank you for coming, be sure to get home safe,” as Eddie holds the door open for Steve and they step back out into the cold night air.
Steve sidles up next to him. “Thank you for getting the door for me, Sweetheart,” he says, teasing.
Eddie groans loudly. “You are not going to let me forget about that, are you?"
“Never,” Steve beams.
They settle into a comfortable silence as they walk. Their shoulders touch once, then again, and neither of them moves away. Their hands are so close that they constantly brush against each other and it’s driving Eddie mad. All he would have to do is reach out a little and he could be holding Steve’s hand again. He isn’t able to summon the courage for that because he’s still not quite sure if Steve feels anything more than a budding sense of friendship toward him.
They walk in step down the quiet street, the night air crisp and laced with the scent of damp pavement and distant woodsmoke. The town is mostly asleep, windows glowing softly in the distance, the occasional car humming by like a lullaby.
Their hands brush again. This time, Steve doesn’t pull away. In fact, he lets his fingers linger just a second longer than before. Eddie’s heart stutters.
He swallows. “Hey, uh… you don’t have to say yes or anything, but would you ever want to come to a show sometime, like one of the local gigs I play or even just hang out while I practice? Hear some live music.”
Steve looks over at him, eyes warm. “I’d love that.”
Eddie blinks. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Steve says, like it’s the easiest thing in the world. “I want to see you in your element. I bet you look cool as hell on stage.”
Eddie laughs, a little breathless. “I mean, I do, obviously. But I appreciate the vote of confidence.”
They stop next to Eddie’s van. Neither of them moves to leave just yet.
Steve rocks on his heels. “Thanks for tonight. I had more fun than I probably had in years if I’m being honest.”
Eddie nods, his voice soft. “Yeah. Me too.”
There’s a pause. Neither of them moves.
Then Steve clears his throat and pulls one hand free, fishing around in his back pocket. “Before I forget,” He pulls out a pen and the crumpled diner receipt, scribbles something down, and hands it to Eddie. “My number. For whenever you want to hang out or just talk.”
Eddie takes it, fingers brushing Steve’s. He looks down at the messy scrawl of digits, then back up, heart thudding. “Thank you. I’ll definitely call you to set something up soon, and let you know as soon as I know when the next gig’s going to be.”
“Cool, I can’t wait,” Steve smiles.
He hesitates for a second, then steps a little closer, his gaze drifting to Eddie’s lips. “Also, I’ve been thinking about doing this all night.”
Eddie barely has time to process that before Steve leans in and kisses him.
The kiss is soft and tentative at first, like a question asked in a language neither of them is fluent in yet. Steve’s lips brush against Eddie’s with a kind of reverence, like he’s afraid to push too far, too fast. But Eddie’s breath catches, and instinct takes over. He leans in, closing the distance, answering the question with a quiet certainty.
His hands find their way to Steve’s waist, fingers curling into the fabric of his jacket like they’ve always belonged there. Steve’s hands hover for a moment before settling gently on Eddie’s shoulders, grounding them both.
The world fades. The cold night air, the hum of a distant streetlamp, the faint creak of the van’s metal frame, all of it disappears. It’s just them. Just this.
Steve tilts his head slightly, deepening the kiss, and Eddie feels it like a spark down his spine. It’s still gentle, still careful, but there’s something more now. It’s something that says ‘I see you’ and ‘I want this’. It’s terrifying and exhilarating all at once.
When they finally part, it’s slow, reluctant. Steve’s eyes flutter open, and he looks at Eddie like he’s trying to memorize every detail of his face.
“Was that okay?” Steve asks, voice barely above a whisper.
Eddie blinks, dazed, lips tingling, heart pounding. Then he grins, wide and a little breathless. “Yeah. Yeah, that was more than okay.”
Steve lets out a soft laugh, relief blooming across his face. “Good.”
They linger there, close enough to feel each other’s breath in the space between them. Steve leans in again, slower this time, and kisses him once more. It’s just as soft and just as sure. It’s the kind of kiss that says this isn’t a one-time thing.
“I’ll call you,” Eddie says, still smiling as they hesitantly move away from each other. “God, it might even be as soon as I get home after a kiss like that.”
“I’ll be waiting,” Steve replies, stepping back slowly, like he’s reluctant to go.
Eddie watches him walk away, heart pounding, fingers still curled around the scrap of paper like it’s something precious.
Steve turns back to face him and, he’s smiling, nervous, but genuine. “Goodnight, Eddie.”
Eddie’s frozen for a second, then grins, wide and a little dazed. “Goodnight, Sweetheart.”
They part ways, both of them feeling a little lighter than before.
Six months. For six months Steve has been listening to this radio show and not ever one time did he expect to hear the host, Eddie Munson, growl out the words “Hawkins, Indiana," but here they are. The name said.
Steve stops the car dead in the middle of the road, can’t hear anything aside from the radio show host listing Hawkins facts in his sonorous voice.
He should have known. Like rationally, he should have considered it a possibility that Hawkins might come up on this late night talk radio show called Hellfire about monsters, cryptids, folklore.
It’s just. He thought. Hawkins hadn’t exactly made national news, and what had was about a toxic gas leak and a government coverup, not exactly this show’s focus.
But enough, apparently. Obviously.
Eddie starts talking about the disappearance of Will Byers, and Steve lays his head on his steering wheel, tries to ignore the way his hands tremble.
For six months Hellfire brought him comfort and companionship as he roams the dark street of Hawkins on what Robin calls his patrols. It’s not like he can sleep, not anymore, so what better to do than make sure everyone is safe? That there’s no signs of the Upside Down? That the gates are still closed?
Hellfire has been his companion through it all and now—now—
Eddie’s talking about the Department of Energy, MK Ultra, a fake body in the quarry.
He could turn it off. Or better yet, go home. But he sits in his car out by Lover’s Lake and he listens to Eddie detail the rumors and speculation. Listens to the callers who share their two cents and conspiracy theories—none close to the truth.
The thing is. He’s become—fond of Eddie, of Hellfire. He doesn’t care about cryptids, isn’t interested in Big Foot, but he was captivated by Eddie. Not just him, though, it’s the whole thing with his producer, Gareth, and his two other best friends who pop in from time to time. They’re funny, nerdy, love that dork game the kids play. And if the low resonance of Eddie’s voice makes him a little melty? Well, that’s between him and 3am.
Steve calls in, sometimes. Has called in. Just, you know, once a week or so. It's not like he knows anything about the monsters, but he asks questions, likes to listen to Eddie talk no matter if he understands.
They finish with a caller and Eddie says, "unfortunately, we'll probably never know what happened."
And Gareth cuts in to say, "Hawkins is only an hour a way. You know. If you find that interesting."
"What are you saying, Gar?" Eddie asks. "That we should go?" He laughs.
"Why not? We could do our own investigation. Maybe we'll find something the authorities don't want us to."
"Hmm, what do you think, listeners? Should we don our adventurer caps and head into the unknown?"
He doesn't remember putting the car into drive, but he knows he's speeding toward the little two-pump gas station on the edge of town and the deserted pay phone there.
The line beeps and beeps when he dials. He tries again and again, until finally there's a click, and Eddie's radio voice booming in his ear.
"Thank you for calling Hellfire," he laughs, manic. "You're--
"You can't go to Hawkins," he interrupts.
"Sweetheart," Eddie croons. "Haven't heard from you in a while. How are you?"
"I'm Fine. Stay out of Hawkins."
"You gotta ease into it a little, baby. Little small talk first."
"Eddie..."
"What do you know about Hawkins?"
"N--nothing. I've heard bad things about it. Cops."
"Cops," Eddie snorts. "I'm not afraid of Hawkins PD. Are you calling because you're worried for my well-being, sweetheart?"
"Yes." Steve doesn't hesitate.
"You're my favorite listener, you know that?"
"I'm being serious."
"It's cute."
"It's a really bad idea to go to Hawkins."
"Do you know what's funny? You didn't know what a chupacabra was, but you know about Hawkins."
"I--" he swallows. "Have specific interests."
Eddie laughs. "What do you know about Hawkins?"
"Nothing," too quick.
"Are you lying to me?"
"I can't say."
"You just keep getting more and more mysterious."
"Please, stay away. It's--there are things, people--you don't want their attention. Just, please. Trust me."
"I'll agree on one condition. Tell me how you know this."
"I can't," he whispers. "That's why you need to trust me."
"What's stopping you?"
He flashes back to an interrogation room, Hopper's stern face, the even sterner ones of the government agents, the four-inch high stack of papers to sign, again and again and again.
"NDAs."
Dead silence on the other line until Eddie asks, "wait, PLURAL?" excitement spikes through the speakers.
That's when Steve hears the distant click down the line, knows it isn't him or Eddie, knows--
The line goes dead.
"Fuck."
He goes straight to the cabin. It's late enough in the morning now that he's unsurprised to see the glowing ember of a cigarette near the porch steps.
"What'd you do, kid?" Hopper asks when Steve gets out of his car.
"Called into a radio show about monsters."
The chief sighs, drops his hands to his sides, muttering. The crunch of gravel way up the long drive has them both turning.
"Guess we're in for a long day." Hopper stomps out his cigarette.
---
Steve isn't allowed to listen to Hellfire anymore. Is forbidden from calling in. And he gets it, okay, he knows. He said too much on the radio, but he hopes that he didn't get Eddie in trouble, that they don't try to come to Hawkins.
He gets a late start on his patrols one night. Took the kids to the movies, caved within minutes when they begged to go for ice cream after, Robin giving him a fond eye roll when he stops.
It's late, summer sun set for hours already, and he's driving on backroads behind the lab. And it's been--it's been a few weeks, okay, since the last call, long enough that he's stopped thinking Eddie will show, so when he sees the van on the side of the road--when he sees the van he doesn't stop right away.
It's tan and white or maybe grey, old, from the 70's or something; spiky black lettering on the side. It says Hellfire.
Steve slams on the breaks so hard the tires squeal, car skidding. He parks haphazardly on the side of the road, only grabbing a flashlight before hurling himself into the woods.
He figures Eddie and the guys will be easy to find, bumbling through unfamiliar forest, but minutes pass with nothing but his own feet crushing through the underbrush. He's afraid to yell, afraid it will draw the wrong kind of attention, but he does a kind of hoarse whisper, knowing it's not enough.
There's a small rock formation that he skirts past, mind everywhere but on his surroundings. He hears a rustle, he thinks, turns, and in the space of a breath, collides with something distinctly solid, warm, and judging by the pained grunt, human.
"Fuck. Gareth?" A very familiar voice asks.
"Eddie??" He responds. His fingers scrabble for his flashlight, illuminating the leaf strewn forest floor and some nearby tree roots.
A beam of light illuminates his chest and face, forcing his eyes down. "Who are you?"Eddie demands.
Steve finally grabs his flashlight, points it at Eddie's middle. Has a second to take in his long, curly hair, his cut-off t-shirt, pale skin and the swirl of inky black tattoos. "I'm--I--I called into your show. I--I told you not to--"
"Oh," Eddie's breath hitches. "Sweetheart. You said not to come to Hawkins and then you--you--" He blinks, seems to struggle to find words. "I didn't expect you to be so beautiful."
He smiles. "i--your show, I loved it. I miss listening to you. I miss--" He takes a step, closes the distance. Eddie smiles and it grips something in his stomach, doesn't let go.
Over Eddie's shoulder, there's a flash of movement, catches in Steve's periphery. It's an unfurling, an opening, there's a shine of saliva, teeth.
“I just don’t think you can get a date anymore! You’re so bad at flirting it’s embarrassing. Embarrassing!”
“Oh my god will you shut up Robin! This traffic is already bad enough without your whining. Why do you even care anyway? I’ve told you I just haven’t found the one yet.” Steve puts his head on his steering wheel trying to visualize himself away from this situation.
“I just feel bad like I’m leaving you behind just because I have a girlfriend now,” she sounds nervous. “You know I just want the best for you dingus…”
Steve turns to look at her, a soft look on his face. “Of course I do know that Robs I just -OH MY GOD”
“WHAT!” Robin shrieks, smacking his shoulder.
“LOOK AT THAT GUY!” He points at the first person in the other lane waiting at the red light.
“What about him?” Robin asks.
“He’s the one robs…I’m gonna get him.”
“WHAT.”
——————/—-//—————————
Eddie just wants to go home.
He’s waiting his turn at the light fantasizing about his soft bed waiting for him after a long shift when people all around him start honking.
“Excuse me, sir?! SIR?!”
Eddie flips around to see a guy around his age with his window rolled down in the other lane pointing at him.
“Me?” Eddie mouths to him, pointing at his chest.
“YEAH YOU! The hot guy on the motorcycle! Are you single?!”
Eddie hears a gasp as the girl in the passenger seat hits him.
Random guy drives up next to Eddie and then just…stops.
The cars around them are going crazy Eddie mentally captures some new swear words for use at a later time.
“Hey,” random guy says softly to him.
“Hi.” Now that he’s closer Eddie gets a better look at him and what a specimen he is. Soft brown hair and eyes to match. Moles to rival Eddie’s own freckles. The brightest smile he’s ever seen.
“So are you?” Random (hot) guy asks.
“Am I?”
“Single?”
HONK
“MOVE OVER ASSHOLE YOU’RE BLOCKING THE ROAD!!!” The guy behind Random Guy screams.
Random Guy rolls his eyes and leans a little out the window closer to Eddie.
“Hold that thought give me just a moment,” he says so incredibly softly and sweet that Eddie blushes. Then he turns his body around till half of it’s hanging out the window.
“EXCUSE ME SIR I’M TRYING TO SEE IF THIS MAN WILL DATE ME CAN YOU JUST HOLD ON FIVE MINUTES-“
The girl next to him smacks him again.
“Steve maybe we should-“
“No Robin! I told you I was gonna talk to him when else would I have the chance to? What if I never saw him again?” He leans back towards Eddie.
“So whatdya say?” Random Guy Steve’s eyes are twinkling. There’s an endearing smirk on his face. “Can I take you out sometime?”
Eddie is gobsmacked and all signs point to “Yes.”
———
Sponsored by my two hour commute to work and back
I originally wanted to write this as like four sentences but I thought it was good with a little more context.
I couldn’t decide between the traffic stopper to be Steve or Eddie but I do write more Steve being obsessed fics so I thought I’d continued the pattern
The woman is fucking stunning. A goddess amongst mortals, a vision sent from the heavens to bless any who may see her. Eddie could honestly go on, but she has to return her focus to the man currently standing at the counter and not the beauty that just walked through the door.
"Here's your change," she says as she passes over the few coins and receipt. "Pickup is at the end of the counter, and they'll call your name when it's ready.
The man gives Eddie his thanks before walking away, and then Aphrodite incarnate is stepping up to the counter. God, she's even more beautiful up close. The slant of her nose, the artful swoop of her chestnut hair - the twin moles on her cheek that are eerily familiar for a reason Eddie can't quite place.
"Welcome to Black Roast Café, can I have a name for your order?"
"Hi there," the woman says with a soft smile, and god, Eddie feels bad for ever making fun of Jerry Maguire. You had me at hello, indeed. "Uh, Stevie is fine."
Eddie nods and types the name into the system. "Okay, Stevie, what can I get you?"
The woman - Stevie - doesn't even look at the board before she rattles off her order. "Can I please get a large, iced caramel latte, with three shots of espresso, a pump of white chocolate, and extra whip? Oh, and a butterscotch blondie."
Eddie's brain shudders to a halt. The order is specific, unique, and it's one she's heard before, from- well if she's being honest, from the only man that's ever made Eddie question her lesbianism.
Steve had been so beautiful and so kind. He was her absolute favorite customer before he'd moved away two years ago, following his best friend when she transferred to a different university to complete her master's. Eddie had mourned just a little, had grieved the loss of sunshine he brought to her days.
Eddie's eyes snap to the two moles on the woman's cheek and everything clicks into place. "Oh shit! You're back!" she says, her filter absolutely failing her. Stevie's smile fades a bit, replaced with a tinge of nervousness as she shifts in place.
"Oh, uh, I didn't- I wasn't expecting you to-"
"Remember you?" Eddie cuts in as she finally punches the order into the register. "Honestly, your order is a hard one to forget. Clearly I was right about all that sugar going to your hips."
It's a gentle tease, one she used to make back when- before, because the order really is just so sweet. It works the way Eddie hoped it would, because Stevie just laughs softly and smooths her hands over her full, curvaceous - fuck, Eddie, head out of the gutter - her hips.
"Yeah, I could probably stand to cut back a little, huh?"
"Don't you dare," Eddie retorts, offended at just the suggestion. "If anything I encourage more, because you're- you look amazing, actually."
The woman blushes, so pink and pretty, and bites into her lower lip the way Eddie wants to. "You think so?" she asks as she hands her card over to Eddie.
"Uh, totally. Like, you were attractive before - and that's coming from a lesbian - but now you-" Eddie pauses, taking a second to run the card as she shrugs. "You're like, glowing. And it only makes you more beautiful."
There's no response from Stevie as the receipt prints, and it's not until Eddie is handing back the card that she sees the stunned look on Stevie's face, her flush even darker. Fuck, that might have been too much.
Before Eddie can apologize though, Stevie takes her receipt and blurts out "I think you're hot."
Huh?
"You do?" Eddie asks, and Stevie nods.
"I've always thought you were hot. But you have the little-" She points to where Eddie's nametag is, to the little lesbian flag sticker that she stuck on it. "The sticker, and like- My best friend, Robin? She's also a lesbian, and she's talked about how annoying it is when guys hit on her and I didn't want to be like that, so I never said anything."
God, Stevie's just as sweet as she used to be, and much more considerate than Eddie even knew. She probably wouldn't have minded getting hit on by Steve at the time, and now that Stevie is standing before her, more beautiful than she's ever been and claiming that she finds Eddie attractive? Well, there's no way Eddie can't make a move.
"How long are you in town?" Eddie asks.
"Oh, uh, we just moved back, actually. Robin finished her master's program and got a job at a local museum translating documents and artifacts."
"Okay, that's cool as hell and I definitely want to hear more about that, but first- Do you want to go out with me? Like, on a date?"
The question seems to surprise Stevie, and it takes her a second to process it. "Are you sure? Even though I'm-"
"The most beautiful woman I've ever seen and way out of my league? Yeah, I'm pretty sure, sweetheart. And I'm not above begging if I have to."
Stevie blushes again and oh, Eddie is already addicted to the way it floods her cheeks, is in love with how alive, how happy she looks. "Then yeah, I'd really, really like that." She grabs a pen from the nearby cup and scribbles her number on the back of her receipt before passing it to Eddie. "Call me when you're off?" she asks, and Eddie nods, beaming.
"The moment I clock out," Eddie promises, and Stevie giggles - giggles! Stevie's name is called and Eddie is thankful that the store is practically empty, because for a second there she genuinely forgot where she was.
Stevie gives her a wink and a "Talk to you later, Eddie," and Eddie barely waits for her to leave the store before she's adding Stevie's number into her phone.
"Okay," Chrissy says as she slides up beside Eddie. "Who is she and how did you get her number so easily?"
Eddie grins as she saves the new contact under Stevie 🩷🌹😍 "That, darling Christine, is my future wife."
He shouldn’t be buzzing with anticipation, waiting for the perfect moment to spill the beans.
It’s just that since Steve and Robin started dating, he couldn’t stand being around them. He knew they were close, but they promised they weren’t like that. They weren’t supposed to be like that. Except a few weeks ago, they surprised the party at a movie night, hands intertwined as they announced they were going steady.
And Eddie should’ve been happy for Steve.
Except that broke his heart.
He wasn’t sure why. Steve was out of his league, batting for the other team. There was no way he would go for someone like Eddie. So Eddie tried to push him towards Nancy. Nancy was the type of girl Steve was supposed to like. Because if he likes someone like Robin —
That meant he could’ve liked someone like Eddie.
If only he was a girl, right?
So maybe Eddie distanced himself from the couple. Not wanting to see them so sugary-sweet and couple-like. Eddie felt sick to his stomach thinking of them kissing. He avoided family video unless he saw Keith’s car parked outside. He tried to make conversations brief, afraid that his jealousy and heartbreak would show.
But he still couldn’t say no to Steve.
Steve had cornered him after Hellfire, all but demanding a movie night of their own. Steve even said they could watch Evil Dead like Eddie’s been begging for months. It should feel like a victory, but Eddie’s stomach felt like stone. He remembered asking, “is Robin coming?”
“Nah,” Steve shrugged. “Girls night. Figured it could be just us.”
Eddie nodded. There was promise of pizza and beer as long as Eddie picked up the tape.
So maybe Eddie went out to Indy the night before. Hoping he could find someone to ease the pain before he spent the following day with Steve. But that’s where he saw her.
Robin and this girl — a short redhead — dancing in the back of the club. Robin tilting her chin up ever so gently to capture her lips in a kiss.
And Eddie felt the world slow to a stop.
Robin was cheating on Steve.
And Eddie couldn’t have felt happier.
Which also made him feel like a huge asshole.
His best friend, a full romantic, was cheated on by his soul mate. Eddie should be upset. He should go and break the girls up. Tell Robin that she should be thinking of Steve, and not in this gay bar. That she’s going to break his heart.
But Eddie will be there to pick up the pieces.
Eddie left, no longer interested in finding someone. He needed to find a way to tell Steve.
He ran through the scenarios, trying to imagine how Steve would react to the news. Would he break down and cry? Would he get angry and yell? Would he look at Eddie, tears in his eyes and admit his love for him?
How would Eddie try to comfort him? Tell him that Robin’s no good for him? That he deserved better? That Eddie could be better for him?
How would Eddie even break the news? Would he start all soft, taking Steve’s hands in his like he’s telling him that his grandma passed in her sleep? Would he tell him that he’s heard from a friend or that he saw with his own eyes? Would he just rip the bandaid off?
No. Steve deserved gentle. He couldn’t just blurt it out —
“Okay, what gives?” Steve said, reaching for the remote and pausing the movie. “You’ve been antsy all night.”
“She’s cheating on you,” Eddie blurted out. “Robin. She’s — uh — cheating on you.”
Steve sunk back into the couch, a furrow in his brow. “What?”
“She’s a lesbian,” Eddie said. “I saw her last night at this gay bar in Indy with this girl and I — uh — she kissed her.”
Steve’s face softened into something sad. “Oh.”
“Yeah,” Eddie said softly. “I’m sorry.”
“What —“ Steve started, his brow wrinkled as he tried to process his heartbreak. “What were you doing there? At the bar?”
“Oh — uh —“ Eddie frowned, as he tried to process Steve’s question. He thought Steve knew he was gay. Did he assume that Steve would be okay with that? “I — uh — I’m gay.”
“Yeah,” Steve said, pulling a knee up and towards his chest. “I — uh — know that. But you were there?”
Eddie nodded. “And saw her there.”
“Did you — did you stay long?” Steve asked.
“No, I left after I saw her,” Eddie said. “I was trying to figure out how to tell you.”
“You didn’t talk to anyone?”
Eddie wished he could read the expression on Steve’s face. Wish he had whatever weird telepath connection him and Robin has — had. He wished he could peer into his brain and figure out his thinking. “No.”
Steve nodded silently, lips pressed together.
“I’m sorry,” Eddie repeated. “About Robin.”
“What?” Steve asked, like he forgot about how they got to the gay bar in the first place.
“I’m sorry that Robin’s cheating on you,” Eddie said. “That’s a shitty thing to do.”
Steve shrugged, picking up the remote and pressing play. “I told her she could.”
Eddie felt his brain break. “What?”
“I told her that she could,” Steve repeated plainly. Eddie reached for the remote and paused the movie.
“What do you mean?”
“I’m her beard,” Steve said. “Well, I guess we’re both each others’ beards.”
“You have to be queer to have a beard,” Eddie said slowly.
“Yeah,” Steve said.
Eddie leaned back into the couch and processed this information. Steve and Robin are beards. Steve is single. Steve is queer. Steve is queer. “You’re single?” Steve nodded. “You’re into guys?”
“Specifically one guy in particular —“ Eddie felt his heart drop. “—but he keeps trying to bring up my fake girlfriend while we’re on a date.”
“On a date?” Eddie nearly shouted. Steve let out a laugh. “Oh my god —“
It made sense. The way Steve looked nervous when he talked to him about the movie night. The way Steve’s body was pressed against his, his arm thrown lazily over his shoulder. The way Steve looked disappointed when Eddie said he went to the gay bar last night.
“Oh my god,” Eddie repeated. “I went to the bar to get over you. I thought you weren’t into me.”
“Totally into you,” Steve grinned. “Even after you kept trying to push me towards Nance.”
“Oh,” Eddie said sheepishly. “Sorry about that.”
“Between you and the kids, always pushing one of us to date,” Steve said. “We kinda got sick of it. So we decided to fake date. Just — uh — didn’t think you’d push us away after that.”
“I was jealous,” Eddie admitted.
“That’s what Robin thought,” Steve said, shifting in his spot. “She said that maybe I needed to be more forward.”
“More forward,” Eddie repeated softly
“Yeah,” Steve said, a smirk on his face. “Maybe like this —“ he leaned into Eddie’s space, capturing his lips in a soft kiss. When he pulled back, Eddie felt like Steve took his oxygen with him.
“I’m happy Robin’s cheating on you,” Eddie admitted. Steve grinned.
In the 19 years Steve's lived in this house, never once has he slammed his front door like that. Too scared of his parents' wrath should it have caused any damage.
It feels good.
He almost turns around to do it again, a fuck you to his parents and every decision they ever forced on him, but then he remembers. They're all in there. Nancy, Jonathan, Argyle, Eddie, Robin. In his living room, making declarations and decisions about Steve's life for him. Or, well, one of them is.
Like his parents do. Did?
He didn't grab his keys, wallet, or even his coat, but he's not going back for them. It's cold, sure, but Steve's sure his anger will keep him warm until he reaches a destination. Any destination.
He just doesn't understand why- Why they keep doing this to him.
Why he keeps letting them.
No. No, that's a lie. He keeps letting them because he knows, deep down, he's not a fighter. Not for himself.
He'll put himself between the ones he loves and danger in a heartbeat; he's done that since the first time he watched a petal-faced monster peel its way out of the Byers' wall in '83.
But his parents trained the fight right out of him when it came to himself. It was easier to not argue, to just do what they wanted. They'd smile at him when he was good. They'd take him with on shorter business trips when he behaved. His mom would even allow a quick hug if he impressed a shareholder with how well-mannered and quiet he was.
He won their affections with obedience.
He's never- Nancy and he love each other now, but in the same way they all love each other after having survived the horrors the Upside Down. But Nancy never loved him the way he'd once loved her. That was bullshit.
Even Robin and Dustin. He knows they love him now. Will love him forever, going forward, but both had admitted to having a predetermined idea of who Steve was and what he was like and they weren't wrong but they also weren't right because Steve's never been Steve a goddamn day in his life.
Steve hadn't even known Steve until monsters came into his life.
The way everyone used to refer to him as the Steve Harrington was a judgement all its own. A thing that he was, and had no say to be otherwise.
Even Eddie, in the Upside Down, and now, in his own house.
Steve finally feels like he might be becoming who he really is and he's surrounded by friends and it just made him stupid. He'd thought it was confidence, when he pulled Eddie aside to talk, to confess, but then-
Eddie telling him he's confused. Like Steve is a child learning new concepts and not an adult who has been questioning how he feels about men since he first noticed other boys in middle school.
Eddie telling him, 'you don't want this, man. Not really.'
It's not fair.
Robin came out to him, and he'd just wanted to make her laugh so she would quit looking so scared. Eddie came out to him, and Steve had thanked him for trusting him. Jonathan, Nancy, and Argyle confess to all dating each other and Steve congratulated them. But Steve comes out and gets told he's confused?
And Steve didn't even refute it. Just got so hurt he couldn't be there anymore. Left his own house because he'd told Eddie he had a crush on him, and asked if he'd like to go on a date sometime and Eddie said no and told him he was confused.
Eddie doesn't get to decide that for Steve! No one but himself can decide if he like guys or not. No one gets to tell him he's confused about what he's feeling.
It's- that's bullshit, is what it is!
Steve turns on his heel and marches back to his house. His hurt has fully morphed to anger now.
Steve hasn't run away from a fight since '83, and he's not going to start now.
He rips his front door open and is greeted to everyone just inside the door, in various states of putting their winter clothes back on. All the faces look concerned, but he scans for Eddie's.
Eddie who looks relieved for all of two seconds, when it seems to dawn on him that Steve is angry, and it's directed at him.
"The appropriate response," Steve growls as he steps through his door and punctuates those words by slamming it shut again. (It's not as satisfying this time, because he sees how it makes his friends jump.) He barrels on with his words, eyes never leaving Eddie, "when someone comes out to you, is to say 'thanks for telling me' or perhaps even 'thanks for trusting me' or, if one is so inclined, to just say 'cool, dude' but you don't get- you don't get to tell me I'm confused!"
Eddie takes a step back, knocking directly in Argyle, who steadies him, but he doesn't say anything.
Maybe Steve should be more calm about this, given the audience, but he's not able to stop the words now that they've started. "I'm not confused, and I know exactly what I'd be getting into. You don't get to- to try and make your rejection my fault. If you don't wanna date me, just say so. But you don't get to try and tell me how I feel about you!"
From the corner of his eye, he can see Nancy trying to subtly shift herself and Jonathan away from the door, probably to get out of what really should be a private conversation, but Jonathan's a bit preoccupied by catching Robin around the waist as she lunges towards Eddie.
"What the fuck did you say, Munson!" Robin growls, arms swinging out like she's going to claw Eddie to death.
Argyle has inched back a bit, putting distance between him and Eddie in case Robin breaks free. "You dudes should probably talk this out in private."
"Byers, if you don't let me go right now-"
"Robbie, I got this," Steve says, because Robin shouldn't be turning on Jonathan when he's done nothing wrong. Robin continues to glare at Eddie for a few seconds before she makes eyes contact with Steve. He raises his brows slight -I got this- and she furrows hers -are you sure?-, so he tilts his head -yes, really- and she deflates in Jonathan's arms and allows him to drag her away.
"We'll just be in the rec room," Nancy says, looping her arm through Argyles and following after Jonathan.
Eddie doesn't bolt, which is a bit more than Steve expected. They both just stare at each other until they hear the click of the rec room door.
"Steve-"
"That was fucked up, Eddie," Steve interrupts.
"Yeah. It was," Eddie says, but doesn't offer up more, even though Steve is waiting for an apology.
"That kind of reaction is exactly why I didn't come out sooner. What would be the fucking point if no one even believed me? Or worse, if you'd given me that kind of reaction like, six months ago, I probably never admit to liking guys out loud ever again. You can't just- you can't decide this kind of shit for other people!"
"I know! I- I freaked out, and panicked, and I'm sorry. I'm so sorry Steve," Eddie says, and he sounds sincere and looks almost fragile while saying it that Steve loses a bit of his steam. He doesn't want to just keep yelling at Eddie.
"Yeah. Well. Thanks for apologizing," Steve mutters, crossing his arms with a huff.
Eddie worries his bottom lip before he seems to gather all his courage and says, "have I fucked everything up between us?"
"No. Not- I'm going to, like, need some time to get over my crush, but no. It's- it'll just be take time-"
"No! I mean, I can't- if you don't, uh, like me like that anymore I get it, but I- what I meant was. Well. No, I guess that answered my question."
Steve is confused, now. For real, and not about his sexuality. "What?"
"What?"
"You did it again. Deciding for me if I liked you or not."
"Shit. Fuck! Sorry," Eddie drops his head into his hands and groans. "I'm fucking this up so bad."
"Than use, like, real, whole sentences and speak to me!"
"I like you!" Eddie blurts. "I have a crush on you, too, but I- I fucked it up!"
"Yeah. Kinda."
Eddie makes a really pathetic noise at that.
"Not so much we can't, like, figure it out, though," Steve offers. "Not, like, right now, because I'm hurt and angry, but like, I'm not going to stop liking you because of one fight. Not. Uh, not now that I know you like me, too."
"Oh," Eddie whispers, then frowns. "For real?"
Steve rolls his eyes. "I said it, didn't I?"
"Sorry, it's just, just good things don't happen to me. It's- I'm processing, okay."
Steve lets out a long-suffering sigh and heads towards the rec room. "If you want to leave to 'process' alone, I get it, but you're welcome to stay. We can get this party re-started and hang out."
Eddie's silent a moment, and Steve thinks he's going to ask if Steve's sure, but instead he gets a quiet, "yeah. I'd like to stay." and the sound of Eddie's footsteps following him to the rec room.
Steve has a secret admirer. He knows this because he keeps getting notes slipped under his dormroom door or left at the front desk. Sweet little things, signed ‘Alpha’ or ‘Your Alpha’. The girls downstairs think it’s adorable and giggle everytime they get something but won’t tell him who keeps bringing them. They claim that they never see the person. He wants so badly to figure out who it is because life at college isn’t easy and he’s struggling like hell. Right after getting out from under his over protective mothers nose, he just wants to exist and have fun and be free. He’s charming and all but he’s standoffish when it comes to Alpha’s. Even the ones on their cheer team are a bit much for him but he deals with their presence with a sense of snark that gets him in trouble a lot of the time.
That’s when Steve starts to think this person is stalking him. And like, it shouldn’t be thrilling or sweet or anything. But it kind of is? They clearly like him, even if the notes aren’t very descriptive or mostly focus on his looks.
And then one day, he meets Eddie Munson in the Omega locker room. Right. And Eddie isn’t a fucking Omega, is he?
The worst part is Eddie isn’t actually supposed to be in there and he doesn’t mean to be. He just needed a quick place to hide after starting shit with another football jock and his friends. He slipped into the first locker room he could find and got caught up in staring at Steve Harrington, standing in nothing but a towel in front of his locker, doing his skincare routine in a tiny mirror. He’s unfairly pretty and Eddie feels scummy even looking at him.
Steve freaks out and tries to knee Eddie in the balls and it ends in a fight that has Steve scruffed and held up against the wall, towel completely gone as he drips slick down his thighs.
The fight ends awkwardly as Eddie apologizes profusely. Steve watches him leave in a haste, his pupils wide. It takes him a moment to catch up, to realize that maybe…
Maybe it’s Eddie. A guy Steve knows through a few mutual friends. A guy he never hangs out with. Some music major.
Maybe it really is him.
Only it isn’t Eddie at all. So what if Eddie eventually overhears Steve telling someone about the admirer? About how he thinks it’s Eddie? Now Steve has two anonymous people competing for his affection and Eddie just wants to figure out who the fuck the other person is.)
thinking about hardison's nana and the fbi. they show up, she invites them in for tea and skillfully dodges their questions. plays up the flustered old lady act and they leave with cookies but no answers.
she raised two high-level hackers, she's definitely on some kind of invented-just-for-her watchlist. they track her internet activity but she posts "how to google" on facebook and nobody's sure if it's real or not (including hardison)
Nana absolutely pretends to mix up fb and google, while probably she’s actually one of those Hidden Figures ladies who worked for NASA back in the day and has forgotten more about computers than Hardison or Breanna will ever know.
The FBI has an impressively long file on her considering she’s never actually had so much as a parking ticket. But they can’t so much as *think* about pulling her in for questioning because the last time they tried, CPS caught wind of it and went absolutely nuclear behind the scenes to keep her from being investigated because she’s 10000% the best foster parent they’ve ever seen and they’re not going to allow anyone to mess with Nana.
She absolutely makes Hardison set up her new TV when he comes back home, because “last time I pressed a button and it’s never been right since”.
Her iPad has a chess app she talks to her friends from the social club on, sudoku, videos of all the grandbabies (that Hardison helped her download), and an entire second operating system she does her actual work on.
nana is totally one of those hidden figures ladies that killed it in her time but has since hung up the metaphorical hat and settled into a life of raising next gen geniuses
I am betting her foster kids have a wide range of skills in their own rights (totally not influenced by parker or eliot)
one of them is a gymnast (they grew up watching parker scale buildings and repel from things, it was bound to happen)
one of them is a state-champion boxer (she got pointers from eliot every time he visited)
meanwhile, nana watches all her foster children gain exceedingly niche and out there skills and merely shakes her head fondly
cw: period-typical homophobia/ f-slur | tags: Wayne POV, hurt/ comfort
5 times Eddie trusts Wayne, and one time Wayne has to trust Eddie
Ao3 Link
✨✨✨
Wayne never wanted kids, is the thing. Never particularly wanted a partner, either.
He was happy in his solitude. Happy with quiet and stillness, happy with waking up alone and going to bed alone and happy with the freedom that came from his childless, spouseless life.
But he never could’ve said no to Eddie.
His yes was so immediate the social worker wasn’t so much as able to finish her sentence, Wayne already looking around his home wondering how in the hell he’d ever be able to make this place work for the both of them. Because Wayne knew what it was like to feel unwanted. Knew his brother did, too. Knew his brother was the type of man to inject that distinct type of pain into his own kid.
1.
“SHUT UP!” The door slams, the thin wood shuddering in its jam as it does, and Wayne hears the tell tale click of the lock that means he’s not going to see Eddie until tomorrow morning.
Wayne picks up the crumpled pages of Eddie’s essay, the 34 written in large, red marker still legible. He thumbs over it.
His handwriting is neat, for once. The black ink is unsmudged and his paragraphs are indented. His title is centered. All caps.
PRISONERS IN THE U.S.
Wayne stares at the words. The careful penmanship. The numbered pages at the bottom, one through three.
Wayne only has to get to the second paragraph before he can’t read any further, Eddie’s dark pen strokes carefully spelling out My dad has been imprisoned since-
He flattens out the pages. Wonders how in the hell he’s supposed to make this better.
Eddie’s music starts, then.
Wayne winces, the headache he’s been fighting since that morning surging in earnest at the noise. He can’t tell the difference between any of that racket but it seems to help Eddie. Helps to soothe him in a way Wayne can’t.
But it doesn’t take long for the neighbors to complain. He can hear them, just a few minutes in, over the screaming vocals of Eddie’s room, chittering outside like school mice.
So he’s not surprised when he has Mrs. Bellefonte and Ms. Reed on his front porch, blithering away about his nephew's music choices like it’s midnight and not five in the afternoon.
“It’s demonic, what he’s listening to.” Ms. Reed insists, her bright red hair done up in rollers. “And it’s disturbing the whole neighborhood. I’ve never had a problem with you, Wayne. You know I’m not one to complain, but ever since that nephew of yours came around here a few weeks back he’s been nothing but noise and trouble.” She cracks her gum, and a vein pulses in Wayne’s forehead.
Mrs. Bellefonte nods, her saggy jowls waving as she does. “We know it’s not your fault, here, Wayne. Not like you raised him, we know he came from that brother of yours. Not your fault he is the way he is, but we really must insist-”
But Wayne’s had enough. Of these stuffed shirts coming around to his home thinking they can prattle on about his nephew like they know the boy, like they know how good he is or isn’t.
“See here.” Wayne interrupts. And he’s always been quiet. Always been one of few words. Liked to let his actions speak for themselves, but he was a sergeant, as much as he now tries to forget Vietnam, and there he learned how to command those beneath him.
“We’re all gonna let my boy play his music. Because he ain’t bothering nobody. He ain’t knockin’ down mailboxes, like your boys, Miss Reed, and he ain’t leavin’ flamin’ bags of feces on neighbors front porches, like your boys, Missus Bellefonte. And if we ever hear of you running your mouths about him, or what he listens to, or any other nonsense, well, Chief Hopper is an old friend of mine. He might be interested in those pieces of information.” He smiles, through the screen door he hadn’t bothered to open. “And don’t you worry, you can trust that when I take my evenin’ smoke breaks, I see a whole lot more than just that.”
Not like he’d rat those boys out, a bit of property damage is nothing Wayne’d ever bat an eye at, especially in the parts of town those boys do it, but it has the intended effect. The women, seemingly struck dumb by Wayne’s words, huff, then huff again, before Mrs.Bellefonte utters one more intelligent “demonic”, before they leave his front porch with identical affronted looks.
Wayne closes the door behind him. Seals in the raucous noise of Eddie’s music.
He grabs a couple of Tylenol from the bathroom cupboard, and tries to watch the Hoosier’s play.
2.
“Got band practice tonight.” Eddie says, nose in the fridge. “Do we still have jelly?”
Wayne reaches around him, pulls the sticky jar of strawberry jelly from its spot in the door.
“With a knife, Ed,” Wayne reprimands, eyeing the way his boy’s about to empty the jelly onto his sandwich without one.
“Sorry,” Eddie grumbles. But he does what he’s told, grabs a knife from the drawer and dumps half the sugary mess onto bread before slapping it together and shoving it into a plastic bag, sucking the excess off his fingers.
He bolts from the kitchen, rustling around in his room, before running back a moment later, notebook in hand and his guitar and case strapped to his back. He grabs his sandwich and shoves it under one arm, effectively crushing it.
“We’ll be at Gareth’s,” Eddie says, walking to the door.
Wayne nods, looks to the fridge where Gareth- (812)555-6279 is scrawled in messy handwriting.
“Remember your helmet.” Wayne calls, scrubbing the pan he’s been soaking all day.
Eddie makes a noncommittal noise.
“I mean it, Eddie, not playin’ with that type of thing.” He gives up on the washcloth, bends over to see if they still have steel wool under the sink.
“There’s a talent show Thursday.”
Wayne looks up, Eddie at the door, slipping on his shoes.
“Just so you know.”
And then he’s gone, screen door slamming behind him, helmet gone from the basket by the door.
*****
In the end, Wayne had to call Jeff’s parents, Eddie having bolted from the house before giving him a single bit of helpful information.
Turns out his band’s in the talent show. Thursday, 6 o’clock.
Wayne had wanted to sit up front, but the PTA moms with their stiff hair and paisley dresses have taken up the first three rows by the time he arrives. Their husbands are eyeing the stage with unfocused eyes, looking like they’ve been drug here by the scruff of their necks.
Then again, they probably had.
The kids tap dance, and jump rope, and do all number of things Wayne tries very hard to stay invested in. Unfortunately, however, he’s starting to understand the blank looks all those other fathers are giving the stage, especially after two girls double dutch for twelve minutes straight. But when the very harried looking teacher announces Corroded Coffin in her nasally, wispy voice, Wayne sits up straight in his seat.
And Eddie doesn’t talk to Wayne about much. Not outside of the essentials. Nothing outside of we need more eggs and we have a half day at school tomorrow, but he’s seen Corroded Coffin scratched across Eddie’s notebook, the letters dark and angular.
The four of them strut out, Eddie leading proudly, decked out in those dark colors and silver chains that make the rest of the town whisper. He recognizes Gareth and Jeff, can’t remember if Ed ever mentioned the third one. But he sees his boy scanning the faces in the crowd, the hard line of his brows scowling into the audience like he’s bracing himself.
So Wayne waves. Softly, barely above his head, and it takes Eddie a moment, that horrible frown on his face like he knows it’s a lost cause, but Wayne can see the moment his boy sees him. His little eyebrows relax. Those wide brown eyes soften, and the barest hint of a smile graces Eddie’s lips before he waves back.
Wayne feels lightheaded with it. The little smile. The wave. And it settles within him that he’s finally done something right. Because coming and watching his boy play music he doesn’t understand in this stuffy gymnasium with women who glare at him for his dirty boots is never how he planned on spending an evening, but anything is worth it if it gets that boy to smile at him.
That rage he thought he’d buried months ago against his brother and his wife comes back with a vengeance, watching Eddie up on that stage, because how dare they. How dare they give this up, give Eddie up, give up the opportunity to see him play the songs he wrote on a guitar he’s spent months practicing on. Because Wayne can’t think of anything that would be worth missing this for. Miss the little glances of eye contact Eddie feeds him throughout their song, like he’s checking Wayne is still there, checking Wayne hasn’t left, that Wayne is paying attention.
Like Wayne could do anything other than hang onto Eddie’s every movement. Because his nephew is brilliant. Wayne can barely see his fingers, the way they move so quickly on that guitar, and Wayne’s never been one of any musical talent but he can see Eddie has it, can see his friends have it, too.
So he isn’t even embarrassed when all those parents with their ironed shirts and glinting watches stare as he gives Corroded Coffin a standing ovation. He claps his hands above his head and whistles two fingers in his mouth, proud, until Eddie is smiling wide and proper, his face beet red as he clambers off the stage.
Wayne finds them after. All the boys wearing identical expressions of giddy delight, their parents hovering behind them, looking equal parts happy and put upon.
Wayne’s nearly knocked in the face with Eddie’s guitar when his boy sees him. His scrawny arms lock around Wayne’s middle and his curly head of hair presses into Wayne’s chest, that guitar head nearly taking an eye out.
But Eddie’s hugging him. Holds on. Ties his little arms around Wayne and presses close, their knees knocking together.
Wayne swallows the lump in his throat. Wraps his arms around him.
“Now you’re gon’ start playin’ for me, right?” He asks, trying very hard to keep the emotion from wavering his voice, “‘cause I think I might start likin’ all that rubbish you listen to if you’re the one playin’ it.”
Eddie releases his hold, and for a moment Wayne thinks he’s ruined it, thinks Eddie’s about to shrink back into his shell because Wayne had to go and stick his foot in his mouth, but his boy is smiling when he pulls back.
“We have other songs.” He mumbles.
Then Eddie bites the inside of his cheek. Shoves his hands inside his pockets. Like he’s embarrassed at the show of affection. Like he’s trying to contain himself. Trying to tone himself down. To not let himself get too excited. To not be too much.
So Wayne smiles back. Ruffles Eddie’s hair. “How ‘bout we get some ice cream, and then you can play ‘em for me?”
3.
Wayne’s gonna skin him alive. Gonna string him up by his toes on the flag pole until Eddie gets it through his thick skull that no matter how smart that boy is, he needs to go to class.
“Makin’ me leave work.” He hisses to himself, and Eddie better not be at home. Better be off somewhere else so Wayne can cool down before he grounds him ‘til next year, ‘til he graduates- no Hellfire. No band practice. Nothing until that boy starts applying himself.
Because Wayne knows if Eddie could just- sit down and use half of all that energy he spends on those damn campaigns- he could graduate with honors. Which only fuels Wayne’s anger. Eddie squandering himself like this. Because he doesn’t think himself worthy of graduating. Of anything better.
But Ed’s van is parked at home. And Wayne’s never been a yeller. Never been one to raise his voice or lose his temper, but it’s threatening to tear loose, now, seeing Ed’s car parked at home after he’d waved Wayne goodbye that morning.
He stomps inside, ready to see his boy sat on the couch or with his nose in the fridge, and he’s ready to shout some sense into him before he sees the main rooms are empty.
But Eddie’s door is shut, and this is Wayne’s home- and as much as he’s respected Eddie’s privacy over the years he’s not about to grant it to him now, not when he lied. Lied about goin’ to school today, lied through his teeth when he promised Wayne he’d start trying.
And trying damn well means going to class.
So he opens the door without preamble. Without a knock and without announcing himself, he walks into Eddie’s room ready to tear him a new one.
The words die on his lips.
Eddie, shirtless, with the Hargrove boy from down the street, both their belts unbuckled.
Hargrove leaps off the bed, his eyes wide and wild, putting as much space between himself and Eddie as possible.
“Wayne!” Eddie shouts, and his panicked tone makes Wayne look to him.
All that rage he’d felt not a moment ago drains from him, because his boy looks terrified. His eyes wide as dinner plates, his lips trembling as he looks from Wayne to the other boy and back again.
“It’s not-” Eddie starts, but Hargrove interrupts.
“He came onto me.” Hargrove growls, still in the corner. Shirt unbuttoned and fly open. “I’m not one of them, sir, he tricked me- I-”
But Wayne stops listening. Sees the look on Eddie’s face, and that’s all he needs to know.
“Get out.” He says, low and slow.
Hargrove’s mouth clicks shut. He stays frozen, cornered, until Wayne steps out of the doorway. Wayne’s eyes are on Eddie, now, who’s still looking at Hargrove like he’s hoping he’ll take the words back.
“He’s the faggot.” Hargrove barks, “not me.”
Wayne rounds on him. “GET OUT!” He bellows, and Hargrove flinches, good, before fleeing, doing up his jeans as he does.
Wayne thinks longingly of the shotgun under his bed as he follows the boy out of Eddie’s room and onto the porch, watches as that snake tears from his property.
Wayne doesn’t leave the porch until he can no longer see that boy’s silhouette.
“Goddamn it,” he whispers, and he wants to shout, wants to scream, wants to shove Eddie in bubble wrap and lock him in his room because his life was already hard enough. Already enough with his daddy who he is and his mama the way she is, with Eddie dressing the way he does and the hobbies he has and- and Wayne is scared. Scared for his boy and what the world will do to him.
What the world has already done to him.
He walks back to Eddie’s room. Tries to find the words to make this better. Tries to arrange them so he can fix this.
But when he gets to Eddie’s room there’s a bag on his bed, already haphazardly half filled with clothes, his copy of The Hobbit on top.
Eddie’s crouched low, under his bed, frantically tearing through the rubbish in a desperate search for something in particular. He finds it, stands, and freezes when he sees Wayne in the doorway.
His face and chest are red. There are still tears dribbling down his face.
“He’s right.” Eddie snarls, eyes shining. “About what I am. So you don’t have to say anything. I’m leaving myself. I’m nearly old enough.” He crams whatever he had in his hands into his bag, still shirtless, belt still undone, before stepping over to his desk. His shoulders shake. His hands tremble.
So Wayne doesn’t say anything. He walks up to his son, and pulls him into his chest.
Eddie fights him at first. His arms scramble. His legs push against Wayne’s. He pulls his head away, now crying in earnest, hiccuping sobs that shake his chest.
But Wayne holds on. Grips onto him the same way he did when Eddie realized Al wasn’t coming back. The same way he did when his mama asked for money for that final time.
Eddie’s movements get sloppier. Weaker. Until Wayne’s nearly holding his boy up as he sobs into his chest.
Eddie’s knees tremble. So Wayne whispers that Eddie’s okay. That he’s here. That he’s not going anywhere.
He wraps one arm tight around his boy. Brings his other hand up to Eddie’s head and strokes his soft curls.
“I love you, Eddie.” He says. And his voice doesn’t waver. He speaks clear, right into Eddie’s ear despite his own tears. “And you’re mine. Nothin’s ever changin’ that.”
✨✨✨
Next part is gonna be longer cause we meet Steveeeee yayy!
Probably gonna post part 2 soon cause this thing has me in a stranglehold (:<
Lena was meeting her fiancee today, for the second time. In a dress with a frankly impractical cleavage and lipstick picked out by her mother, but at least they allowed her the boots. There was to be walking involved in this playdate, and no one was willing to risk a faked injury in heels.
Her fiancee arrived exactly on time, holding her hands unnaturally at her sides, giving off an incessant nervous energy that would’ve put Lena on edge even in better circumstances. Lena knew very little about her, but one thing had been clear from the start: she was weird.
Weird, and alien, and mandatory.
“Hello Miss Lena, pleasure to make your acquaintance,” the alien said, the same exact greeting as the last time, as if she’d memorised the one English line and refused to update it.
She was wearing the same tweed jacket, too, the same overly starched shirt, the same tight and hopeful smile. Holding out a bouquet in yellows and reds that may as well have been the very same one.
Only one thing was different, a greenish-yellowish smudge blooming on her cheek. It might have had something to do with alien anatomy. Might have been an alien fashion trend. Might have been there all along, and Lena simply hadn’t noticed.
No way.
“What’s wrong with your face?” Lena demanded.
“N-no!” the alien stammered, forceful and defensive. “Nothing! What’s wrong with your face?”
Lena frowned. She had never encountered such a horrendous liar. “Rude.”
The alien seemed to shrink. “Apologies. Thank you for being me here. Would you like we go to walk?”
“No,” said Lena. But she got up and walked toward the gardens, as per the El-Washington treaty, signed and filed and legally binding.
“We’re going to need to take these out for the wedding,” Lillian said, proprietary ‘we’ to go along with the proprietary touch to the piercings in Lena’s ear as she tidied up her hair.
“I can’t marry her,” Lena said offhandedly. Maybe if she was flippant enough about it, it would stick.
Lillian’s reflection came just short of rolling her eyes. “The tongue one will have to go too, of course.”
“I can’t marry her,” Lena repeated. Even if—even if she could—Kara didn’t want it, either.
“Lena, please. Only you would whine this much over saving the world.”
Saving the world. As if it hadn’t been Lillian trotting out a medieval solution to a decidedly modern problem, leveraging xenophobia and ignorance to get something for nothing. Well. Something for Lena.
Lena opened the present late that night, finally alone in her pjs, in her bed, in her own damn apartment.
Inside the garish red and blue wrapping was a brand spanking new… baseball glove.
It took a couple solid minutes for her laughter to die down. She placed the mitt on her bedside table next to her glasses and turned off the light.
.
.
The ships had arrived in the night, abrupt as a lightning strike, seven months ago. Just like in a self-centered disaster movie, dotting the skies over North America, Antarctica and Russia; cold and sprawling areas.
They came with weapons and technology beyond imagining, with scared and tired children in brightly colored robes. Somewhere on the precipice between conquerors and refugees, and before the line could be crossed in either direction, came Lillian Luthor with an inventive, convenient solution: a daughter of Krypton’s most powerful family, and a daughter of Earth’s. In place of charity or diplomacy or surrender, a union.
The president had a daughter too, of course, but politics have an unimpressive half-life while wealth only grows and grows.
Lena woke up with a crick in her neck and a horrible taste in her mouth, to the repeated sound of clapping.
She groaned as she rolled her head and straightened her stiff legs from where they were folded awkwardly in the armchair, one hand sliding into her hair to finger comb it back to approximate shape. Her eyes stung; she hadn’t taken her contacts out. And she’d fallen asleep in her latest pony show dress.
What a shitty slumber party.
Clap. Thud. Clap.
The couch was now Kara- and Streaky-free, housing only Lena’s blanket, folded into a neat little triangle. Like half a sandwich.
Lena stumbled into her kitchen, flicking on the coffeemaker and staring at her pantry. She thought of Kara the day before, closing her eyes in near orgasmic bliss as she chewed her mouthful of fried dough and mango chutney.
Sweet and junky, she decided, and pulled out white bread, chocolate spread and a couple bananas.
