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posted for @corrodedcoffinfest!
Prompt Day 15: âCalgon, take me away!â | Word Count: 757 | Rating: T | CW: None | POV: Gareth | Pairing(s): Steve Harrington & Corroded Coffin, Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson | Tags: band manager!Steve Harrington, Famous Corroded Coffin (Stranger Things) || ao3
Corroded Coffin knew chaos. Practice had always been like trying to tame a hurricane, even back in Garethâs garage.Â
Back before everything.
Sound check was no different.Â
âWhere the hell is Harris?â Steveâs voice boomed through the near empty venue. Somehow louder than the cymbals Gareth slapped his sticks against, only more jarring.
Eddie threw Gareth and Jeff a grin before leaning into his mic. âNo comment.â His voice, somewhere around monotone, echoed through the empty venue while he choked back laughter.
Outside of the vacant arena, Steve typically begged for those words. When they were directed at him? Forget it. âNot funny!â he called, making quick time as he crossed the floor, weaving by grips, venue personnel, light and sound techs as they swirled around the stage.Â
âWell, Iâve been told my smarmy comments are too funny, hence the no comments the lawyers drilled into us.â He watched as Steve pushed onto the stage as if he were climbing out of a pool. âThereâs stairs, like, right there, Hasselhoff.â Despite his chiding, he offered Steve a hand, pulling him to his feet.Â
âYes, but then I have to round the-â He shook his head, cutting himself short. âNo, so not the time. I have enough shit to deal with.â He eyed the red bass guitar propped up at the edge of the stage. âAm I missing a quarter of my band?â
âNo com-â
âI swear to god,â he snapped, looking back at Eddie with sharp eyes.
Steve ran a hand through his hair before nodding. âThank you.â
âDude,â Eddie whined, turning back to him with an exaggerated frown. âCome on! I was having fun!â
âWe donât have time for fun. We have less than four hours until showtime,â Steve interrupted. âWhere is he?â
âThereâs some tchotchke his mom wanted,â Jeff said. He shrugged when Steve glanced over. âI donât know.â
Steve blinked, straightening. âThatâs a new one,â he mumbled.
âOh?â Eddie said, turning back to him, eyes wide. âSo, thatâs an acceptable-â
âI didnât say shit about it being acceptable,â he snapped, pointing at Eddie.
âEverything okay?â Jeff asked.Â
âNo, weâre just one monkey short of our usual circus,â Steve groaned, wiping a hand over his face.
A production assistant, one of the newer ones- even though this was all new -started. âI can call-â
âPlease,â Steve begged, looking up at the venue ceiling. âI give one inch of rope-â
âAll the better to hang yourself with,â Eddie teased, grinning.
âNow, Iâve about had it with you,â Steve said.
Eddie swayed where he stood as he leaned into Steveâs personal space. âAnd the night is still young!â
âHarrington,â the same PA said, voice harsh enough to cut through Steve and Eddieâs arguments, but still quiet, as if they wanted to hide.
To be fair, Steve Harrington could get scary when he was operating at full throttle. Gareth had seen Steve go to bat for them with everyone, from venue owners to caterers, who thought they could pull one over on him.
âWhat?â
âHeâll be here in fifteen.â
âThank Christ,â Steve mumbled. He sat down on the edge of the stage before sliding to the floor below.Â
âHey,â Eddie whined. âI was in the middle of annoying you!â
âMaybe later! Iâm busy right now,â he said, waving Eddie off. âThe second heâs here-â
âStraight to work,â Jeff said with a roll of his eyes.
Gareth huffed. âWe know.â
âI have to deal with tickets and merchandise-â His voice drifted off as he walked back the way he came.
Eddie sighed wistfully before strumming something silly. âI want my manager back,â he sang, tapping into one of Wayneâs old records for some absurd Southern accent on a song Gareth recalled making fun of after a joint or two. âGot tâhave my manager back.â
Gareth and Jeff shared a glance, grinning, before they joined in. âI miss âim oh so much!â
Steve glanced back at them, grinning. âKnock it off!â
âCanât live without âis touch,â they chorused, drawing a sharp laugh from Steve as he continued off.Â
âCalgon,â Steve groaned, throwing his hands up. âTake me away!â He disappeared through a set of double doors. âHey, I said-â The doors slipped shut behind him, muffling his voice.Â
âThink Freakâll actually be back in fifteen?â Eddie asked after spinning to face them.
âNo way,â Gareth said, testing out his kick drum. âFifteen means fifty.â
âYeah, Steve knows that,â Jeff said with a nod. âHeâs just choosing ignorance.â
written for week 2 of the @steddiemicrofic july challenge
prompt: years | wc: 444 | rated: T | tags: post Vecna, Eddie lives but no one knows, Steve refuses to give up hope despite everything, second chances, open/ambiguous ending | also on ao3
To everyone else in the room, heâs just a guy on a stage. To Eddie, he is a harsh reminder of the reality heâs spent years trying to forget. A memory he never completely managed to erase, now suddenly breaking free from where itâs been locked away. Flooding him all at once with the sorrow and pain of another lifetime he never got to fully live.
  âHey, uh,â the guy says and clears his throat. âThis is a song about missing something you never really had.â
On the first strum of his guitar, his eyes fall shut, like maybe itâs easier for him to pretend that heâs alone in the room. And then he sings, lips caressing the mic as they spill bittersweet words that feel like they were taken straight from Eddieâs own heavy heart.
It's unfair how at ease he looks despite the melancholy he carries through the melody he plays, the softness of his features clashing so violently with the image that's been imprinted on Eddieâs mind.
Because the last time Eddie saw him, he was dressed for war. With deep worry lines on his face, wearing a scatter of barely healed scars and bruises from earlier battles like medals of dishonour, determined to fight and win no matter the cost.
The last time he heard his voice, it almost got lost in the ringing echo of another, choked-up and trembling with anger, before it faded into a pleading whisper against his ear.
   âStay with me,' he'd begged but Eddie couldnât make that promise.
Not because he didnât want to but because they wouldnât let him. Patched him up and shipped him off to bumfuck nowhere. New identity, new start, new chance at life â thatâs what they promised him in return for his silence.
Itâs been so long.
But here he is, Steve, and it feels like not a day has passed since they last stood across from each other, despite the years so clearly visible on both their faces. One singing about loss, the other finding himself again after all this time drifting through a life that wasnât his.
The song ends on a when not an if, like a happy ending is inevitable.
And finally, their eyes meet.
To everyone else in the room, the guy smiling back at him is just one in a crowd of many. To Steve, heâs the missing piece to a life that never felt complete without.
There he is, Eddie, with tears in his eyes but alive. Just like Steve never gave up believing he was.
And now that heâs finally found him, he wonât let him slip through his fingers again.
July Prompt: Years | Word Count: 444 | Rating: T | CW: Language, Lingering Upside Down Physical Disabilities | POV: Eddie | Tags: Future Fic, Post S4, Eddie Munson Lives, Reconnecting, Confident & Flirty Steve
His cane digs into the grass, the rain overnight making the ground a little soft for Eddie to navigate easily. Nothing goes easy for him, so he expected nothing less. At least it has cleared off for the day, leaving the sun warm on his back.
Eddie truly never thought he'd be back here. In this town. Hell, in this state. He bailed before the stitches came out, putting it all behind him as much as he could.
Now, he's thirty-three, sometimes feeling eighty-three.Â
The days are often long, but he'll never take them for granted.
He's not sure how Henderson even tracked him down, but he did, and when Eddie opened his mail to find the wedding invitation, he decided he wouldn't ignore it. Henderson went to the trouble to find him, and well, the least he could do is show up.
The kid's getting married.
It's a big crowd, and Eddie hopes he'll blend in. Go unnoticed, even. It's hard, his cane draws the eye, and there's nothing he can do about that.Â
Sometimes, you can't get the things you lost back.
His muscles, those tendons. His good name. If he ever had such a thing. Because sometimes â well, sometimes things just stay fucked.
Eddie slides into the last row of white chairs, laying his cane over his lap.
The wedding was nice. Henderson looks happy and healthy, so in love with his beautiful bride. Eddie picks at a slice of cake at a back corner table, alone.
A hand grasps his shoulder, "You cut your hair."
Eddie looks up, smiling. Steve Harrington. He hasn't seen him in years. Over a decade.
"Steve Harrington," Eddie says, and Steve's hand slides down Eddie's arm before clutching Eddie's hand in an awkward grasp that maybe once wanted to be a handshake. Steve sits, and Eddie turns in his chair the best he can, facing him.Â
Steve rests his chin on his hand, elbow on the table, staring at Eddie. Grinning.
"What?" Eddie asks.
"You look so different," Steve says.
"You don't," Eddie banters back, and Steve waves him off. Even with a couple threads of gray at his temples, Steve still looks like he always has.Â
"How's life?" Steve asks.
"Honestly? Really good," Eddie answers, and Steve's smile somehow widens.
"That's good. Married? Kids?" Steve asks.
Eddie shakes his head, "Nope. Nobody. How many of these kids are yours?"
Steve laughs, "None. Still single and ready to mingle. Maybe I'll connect with somebody interesting here," Steve says, dragging his finger through the icing on Eddie's plate, sucking his finger into his mouth. Eyes never leaving Eddie's.
Fuck. Maybe things can go easy for him.
If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddiemicrofic and follow along with the fun! â€ïž
for @corrodedcoffinfest day 15 prompt 'calgon, take me away'
rated m | 764 words | cw: implied sexual content | tags: established relationship, band manager steve, bathing/washing kind of, on the brink of real fame
Heâs worked so hard to get them here. A lot of sleepless nights, a lot of phone calls that went south, a lot of shows in places that werenât welcoming or even close to sold out. A few shows that almost ended in the band breaking up, even.
But Steve is damn good at this job heâs given himself. Even when heâs not the best, heâs still pretty damn good.
Now theyâre opening for Warrant, which is maybe not the exact thing they wanted, but itâs pretty damn close. They leave in two weeks. He found them a bus to rent, he found them a roadie who is willing to work for minimum wage as long as they buy him food. The driver is included with the bus rental, but they suggested tipping him at every stop so he has some extra. Steve will figure that out when they get paid.
âYouâre so tense, baby,â Eddie rubs his shoulders and kisses his neck. It doesnât help, but it feels nice, anyway. âYou should relax.â
âI still have to make our packing lists and confirm the badges we need with the security teams at every venue and-â
âOkay.â Eddie bites his neck as he laughs. âEnough out of you. All of that can wait until tomorrow. Iâm gonna draw you a bath with those fancy Calgon salts Jeff got you for your birthday.â
âI donât have time,â Steve half-whines. He rarely complains, and he isnât really now. Itâs just that he really wants Eddie to understand that so much of their success falls on him. Yes, theyâre talented, and yes, theyâve built a huge fan base because of their music and personalities. But Steve handles the bullshit they canât, and usually never even find out about. âMaybe after the tour.â
âThatâs six months away, Steve.â Eddie wraps his arm around Steveâs waist and tugs him towards the bathroom. âGet your clothes off. Youâre taking a bath. One hour.â
Steve knows itâs not worth arguing. âCalgon, take me away, I guess.â
Eddie snorts and shoves him through the doorway. âYou want me to stay with you or leave you alone?â
âStay.â
He doesnât really want to be alone. Heâll start to overthink and it wonât be relaxing. If Eddie insists on him not doing anything for an hour, then he should probably be there to actually make sure that nothing is what he does.
The bath is warm and the salts smell good. He doesnât actually know what scent they are, but itâs nice.
He breathes in. He breathes out.
âDid Calgon save you?â Eddie asks after a few minutes. Steve turns to see him smiling over at him.
âI think so.â Steve smirks. âYou really have me naked and you arenât even making comments about my dick. Do you even love me anymore?â
âIâm giving you a peaceful hour!â Eddie laughs as he scoots closer to the bath. âUnless you wanna hear all my deranged thoughts about what I want to do with it.â
âIt?â Steve shakes his head. âNot even me. Just it. Nice.â
âWell, itâs a part of you. And I could also tell you about the deranged thoughts about what I want to do to you.â
âMaybe when Iâm done. I kinda liked the silence,â Steve leans his head back and closes his eyes, sighing dramatically.
He waits for Eddie to say something, but he doesnât. Itâs impressive how quiet heâs being.
It must be killing him.
Eventually, Steve opens one eye and looks towards where Eddie is sitting on his hands and biting his lip.
âYou wanna suck my dick so bad.â
Eddie groans and covers his face as Steve laughs and leans forward so he can kiss Eddieâs cheek.
âI canât even let you relax. Youâre so hot,â Eddie explains. âIâm sorry.â
âItâs okay. I still have, what, 40 minutes of the hour? Plenty of time for you to do what you need to do so bad.â
Itâs stupid that he feels more relaxed joking with Eddie than when he was sitting silently in the bath. Or maybe itâs not. Eddieâs always been his comfort, the person he goes to when shit hits the fan. That wonât change just because heâs been forced into a bath.
âLet me rinse off and Iâll be right out,â Steve pats his head. âYou can do whatever you want to it.â
âI can?â Eddieâs voice pitches higher with so much hope. How could Steve turn him down?
âEddie, take me away.â he says with his arms spread wide and a grin on his face.
I always think of the description I saw years ago: Self-imposed deadlines don't help me, because I know the person who set them, and they're full of shit.
Give yourself the treat before you start. I'm serious. And ideally during the task and afterwards too.
Executive dysfunction comes from a lack of available dopamine. Common advice is wrong. You need to provide your own dopamine before you can start. Otherwise you're trying to run your car on empty.
"But what if I still don't do it" well you already weren't getting it done anyway. Now you have a little treat. Try again later.
You deserve kindness and care even when you aren't being productive.
(Also read How to Keep House While Drowning by KC Davis)
