One month. Billy and Steve have been living together for one month.
In that time they’ve discovered a lot about each other, things they never expected. Things like Steve hanging his jackets and sweaters in rainbow order in the closet, or Billy placing the cups in diagonal lines in the cabinet.
Only one thing had caused a disagreement, and that was about furniture covers. Billy’s ocd wanted them to avoid touching “sofa stank ass,” but Steve’s autism hated the texture of sitting on fabric on top of fabric.
Their solution was two separate chairs instead of one couch. Close enough to hold hands constantly, but separate enough to enforce their individual boundaries. Sure, it means cuddles are limited to their bed, but Billy’s on bedrest with full body aches and bouts of fibro fog usually once a week, so it works.
However, by far the most exciting tidbit they’d discovered was that they share a special interest. Games.
Video games, board games, sports- they’ve both explored the history, researched the best strategies, and played thousands upon thousands of games. DND had brought them together through mutual friendship with Eddie, while Super Mario kept their relationship on its toes.
Tonight, their choice was a little unconventional for them, a big dusty box fished from the very back of the closet. An inherited, smoke stained edition of Scrabble. If either of them and their dyslexia had realized that making a goal to play every game in the house would mean playing a spelling game, they might not have made that promise.
But, Steve already was dead set on doing it, and his dedication was not to be messed with. They were going to play that game, no matter how long it took.
Currently almost two hours and half a bag of letter chips in, it’s Steve’s turn again.
“Uhhh, I’ll spell… sunset! S-U-N.. S-E-T.”
Every chip is placed carefully, and they both double check it with the help of their Scrabble approved dictionary. At first, he’d placed them in the wrong spot, connected to a D instead of the S on the end that he meant to use, but they fixed it quickly instead of dwelling on the mistake. Billy knows Steve might cry of embarrassment if they keep the focus on his mistake for too long.
But now it’s time for Billy to have yet another go, as Steve reminds him in case he forgot again, “Your turn, Bubs! Got anything good?”
“Honestly? I have no ideas. These letters suck.” Billy grumbles, pushing the small tray that holds the letter chips away.
“You can look it up.” Steve suggests, the only way they ever agreed to go along with this game being shortcuts and technical cheats.
But Billy shakes his head, in deep concentration, “No. No, I wanna do it on my own.”
Steve gives an encouraging smile, “Take your time. I’m watching the TV over your shoulder.”
Something about the way Billy snorts says he doesn’t see that as encouragement, but instead sounds hurt, “I’m that boring, huh?”
Regretting the way he’d put it so bluntly, Steve makes sure to promise kindly, “Nope! I just like the game shows!”
It’s true too. He likes learning new words in a way that doesn’t make his brain feel like it’s on fire. And watching other people fail and struggle, even the best of the best, makes him feel a lot better about playing mostly two or three lettered words in this here game of Scrabble.
Billy’s shoulders relax with ease, satisfied that Steve isn’t annoyed with him. He does, however, quip sarcastically, “We’re so old.”
“Thirty isn’t old.” Steve hums, actually happy to be growing older instead of being trapped in the misery of his teens forever.
Growing up meant growing out of his intense self-deprecation, after leaving behind all the pain and the tragedy he’d gone through. Now in California, playing board games with the love of his life, nothing else matters.
Billy clarifies his meaning, showing to Steve that he feels the same way, and was just using an expression, “I’m not talking about literally, baby. And stop rounding up, I’m only 26.”
It’s lighthearted and they both smile, but something keeps nagging in Steve’s head. One of those old fears of his rising up despite his insistence that they don’t bother him anymore.
“We can do young people stuff.” He offers, sounding kind of upset though he doesn’t mean to let it show, “I mean, I just thought this was fun...”
Even though they’ve got a game set up, Billy leans over the small table on his elbows, and holds Steve’s hands, “Stevie. It’s great. I love these slow days with you. They make me happier than anything. I was just kidding.”
Instant relief floods Steve’s nervously twisted stomach, but just in case he asks, “You’re sure? ‘Cause we can do something else.”
It’s his fault they’re doing this. He said it would be okay. Fun even. He said they can do anything they want.
“I want to keep playing.” Billy promises, and then a real pleased look crosses his face, “I just thought of a word even.”
“What is it?” Steve brightens up immediately, leaning forward in interest.
Billy uses an ‘O’ chip already on the board to spell- “Love.”
Picking up from the look on Billy’s face, it’s not a coincidence that he’s taken to flirting through a board game. Steve blushes like they haven’t already been together for eight years. These slow times between them can be relaxing, but they’re usually days where they check in on their romance too. Rekindling the passion over a goddamn spelling game, that should, by all means, have caused Steve to panic ages ago.
It’s sweet, and it only gets better.
An adjacent ‘S’ in line with Billy’s ‘O’ and an ‘M’ further down the board makes it so Steve can spell the biggest word he’s ever played in this game, “Oh! I can use that to spell Soulmate!!”
“You got that right. I’m yours, and you’re mine.” Billy says all suavely. Steve’s literally giggling and kicking his feet, only to be shown once again through the next move just how much of a romantic Billy is.
“Matter of fact, I can use that new M to spell- Marry.”
For a moment, Steve just stares.
He’s not sure if it’s genuine or just a strategy, until Billy produces a tiny box from his pocket. It’s wooden, looks hand carved. Inside is a ring with a small ruby in a heart shape attached to a band, one he recognizes as being Billy’s mothers.
“Billy-“ He chokes. The words he’d been doing so good at freeze up. He’s used his brain so much today and now it’s failing him?
Billy is patient though, leaving the box propped open on the table so he doesn’t have to hold it and lock his wrist up, “Stevie.”
Steve swallows down his nerves as best he can, and starts to ask, “Are you..?”
“I am.” Billy finishes for him, so Steve doesn’t get too frustrated. It’s then that he starts to look nervous too. He chews his lip, a stim Steve recognizes as being an anxious one. Like he’s done something wrong by asking for something so big, “Do you want to?”
But this, this couldn’t be more perfect. A proposal through their shared special interest, a lifelong passion channeled into their love. Of course Steve wants that too. Really, he’s wanted it ever since they were teenagers, but now that they’re in their twenties, they’re finally ready for that dream to become a reality.
“Yes! Of course I’ll marry you!”
~~~~~~
For todays disability organization spotlight, let’s talk about the National Fibromyalgia Association.
The NFA is a site which provides health information and resources about Fibromyalgia, a condition that is under researched and often disregarded by medical professionals as not even existing.
The information on their site ranges from self care guides, science explaining chronic pain, COVID precautions for our disorder, medication and treatment suggestions, and emotional assistance for fibromyalgia patients, among other things.
Run by doctors and fibromyalgia patients alike, the websites main goal is to spread awareness and make research accessible for everyone. When I finally received my diagnosis, I spent a lot of time here learning about little things I could do for myself to manage my symptoms. Now I use mobility aids and am in physical therapy, and my symptoms are much more managed than before.
Because fibromyalgia is such a disregarded disability, so are our foundations. The NFA is currently asking for donations, either direct monetary donations or through buying their merchandise in the online shop.
If you would like to learn more about this organization or access their information guides, you can click here to visit the site.
(Harringrove, just a flirty little drabble for @disabledbillyandsteveweek day 2 prompt-Family)
Steve thought it was maybe the stupidest thing he’d ever thought of. He and Robin had been having a sleepover and somehow the subject got around to tattoos.
“I would get a pin up girl but that might be tacky,” Robin sighed.
“As far as I’m concerned, the tackier the better,” Steve rolled up to his countertop and poured another glass of wine.
“Oh yeah, what are you getting? A nail bat?”
“Only if it says ‘who wants to get nailed,’” Steve snarled.
“What about a tramp stamp?” Robin took the glass of wine and sipped it. “Eat me.”
Steve thew a saucy look over his shoulder, dripping with king Steve charm, “Please. Look at me. It would say meals on wheels.”
Robin giggled, “Yeah, as long as we’re getting tattoos of wishful thinking I should get one on my hand that says, ‘Pussy destroyer.’”
“‘M just in a dry spell.”
“Yeah, okay,” Robin rolled her eyes, “Would you actually get ‘Meals on Wheels?’”
“Eat fast, eat fresh,” Steve quipped. “I’ll do it if you do, Madam Pussy Destroyer.”
Robin giggled loopily, “You know I did see an article about a tattoo parlor that specializes in sensory safe tattoos.”
“What’cha mean?” Steve wasn’t drunk, but he was a little tipsy on their good fortune in securing a wheelchair accessible apartment this close to the city center. Sure, a lot of rent had to come from their was Starcourt hush money, after Steve been paralyzed and a flayed Jonathan Byers has saved the world, but they he still found it and so Steve was happy to fork over the cash. The location was ideal, even if the city noise sometimes wrecked havoc on Robin’s sensory issues so they’d installed some extra sound proofing. But he wasn’t sure how a tattoo parlor was a part of that.
“It’s super cool, the owner has OCD so he made it so each room is private and soundproofed. They don’t play loud music, and offer headphones if the buzzing is too much, though you can bring your own movies. I’ve always wanted a tattoo, but some of those places are just too loud and busy,” Robin sighed.
“So you’ve always wanted to be a pussy destroyer?”
“No, shut up,” she blushed. “A Lilly, for my grandma.”
“Well maybe tomorrow we can go check it out.
“I wouldn’t want to do it alone.” She bit her lip. “I wouldn’t have the guts.”
Steve shrugged, “ok, you convinced me. It’s tramp stamp time.”
“No, you’re not serious,” Robin giggled.
“You’re my family. If you bleed, I bleed. You tramp stamp, I tramp stamp,” Steve said, only laughing when Robin did.
But then the next morning, his head pounding, he didn’t have too many defenses when Robin had looked at him with those puppy dog eyes and said she’d called and made them an appointment. She’d even brought in his motorized wheelchair and said that she’d buy bagels on the way.
But he was regretting it when they were finally there, and Steve was contemplating actually getting something permanently inked into his skin.
He wasn't sure if he was cool enough for this. He definitely wasn't cool enough for the artist that came in and introduced themselves to Robin. Their name was Eddie and they were practically covered in tattoos, wearing some cool unpronounceable band name t-shirt that they'd sewn to a mini tutu skirt to make a dress. They took Robin back to her room after they went over her sketch, a lilly painted with pale watercolor shades.
Robin squeezed his hand, "You're not gonna chicken out on me, right? I booked the only two person room they have so if you don't show up, I will know."
"I'm not chickening out," Steve laughed, "Though I hope your grandma isn't watching from heaven, because she'll probably see my ass."
Robin snorts, "She definitely saw your ass this morning when I helped you out of the shower. She was a tough old bird, a little of your pale ass won't scare her."
Steve snorted, "I'll see you in a moment."
Steve was starting to feel a little nervous. Honestly after Starcourt, he hadn't been interested in hiding his sexuality at all. Life seemed too short, he might as well unapologetically be himself, bi and disabled and ADHD and slutty and everything that was himself. But maybe the double entendre tramp stamp was a little too out there.
And then... he'd come in.
"Hi, Steve, right?" The guy was stunning, with long blonde curls streaked with blue piled up into a big bun on the top of his head. He offered a large, warm hand and Steve almost melted when they shook.
"Yeah, hi."
"I'm Billy, I'm the owner," Billy smiled, and Steve swore that he could see a cartoon smile, like Billy was an anime prince. An anime prince that had a giant seratonin tattoo that was splattered with that looked like watercolor. "I hope you don't mind that I use some hand sanitizer. I'm working on my handshake thing, but..."
"It's fine, ah... do you mind if I have some too?" Steve held out his hand.
Billy squirted Steve out a little of their fancy hand sanitizer.
"So I have to be honest, I wasn't sure what to expect when we got the call for a wheelchair themed tramp stamp that said meals on wheels," Billy licked along his lower lip, "But now that I'm seeing you it makes more sense."
Steve could feel himself turning red, "It was kind of a joke-"
"I mean," Billy leaned in, "You do look good enough to eat."
Steve shivered, blush spreading up to his hairline.
Billy straightened, "God, sorry. Sorry, that was so inappropriate-"
"It's fine."
"No, really, I can see if Heather is free to take over the appointment, except that-" Billy bit his lip, "I think I'll still have to be the one to help you onto the table. Maybe if Eddie and Heather work together... God, not that you're like... too big or... shit... I'm sorry."
Steve laughed, "Really, it's fine."
"You're not too big, you're like... perfect," Billy ran a hand down his face, "Sorry. I'm sorry. Chrissy should know she can't give me the pretty guys, I clearly can't handle it."
Steve glanced up, giving him that King Steve sparkle right back, and seeing the way it made Billy's eyes go wide and nervous.
Steve pressed on the joystick to his chair with one finger, running a hand along the tip flirtatiously.
Billy's eyes darted to his hand, and then back to his face.
"I think you can handle me," Steve said smugly, "Don't you wanna try?”
Steve left that day with a bit of a sore ass, though the sensation was soothed a lot by the business card that had Billy's personal number scrawled on the back.
"I can't believe the meals on wheels tattoo got you a date," Robin rolled her eyes as she attached Steve's chair to the floor of his van, tightening the straps down with a shake of her head.
"What can I say," Steve shrugged, "Billy looks like a hungry boy to me."
Robin gagged, "You are my family. But never, ever, say that again."
@intothedysphoria thanks for answering my question on this one.
Billy snapped the rubber band against his wrist for the hundredth time while in the waiting room of the doctor's office. His knee bounced up and down and he counted each second of every minute, glancing up at the clock every five minutes that ticked by.
It was all he could do to distract himself from the overwhelming desire he had to drag his fingernails down his arms, picking away at the thin lines of red scabs running down the inside. The thin lines he put there that week.
Something he tries to hide in public until the urge becomes too strong and he can't help himself but scratch and pick. He knows what people must think. He's not hurting himself, or rather he's not trying to. He's stopping it. Yes, that's it. Stopping it.
Every appointment is the same. "How are your wounds healing?" "Okay." "Oh, don't pick at the scabs. I know it's tempting, but they won't heal properly that way." A nod. "Are the pain medications working?" "Fine, I guess."
Hopper picked him up after the appointment. The ride was silent. It almost always is. There isn't much to say to one another, and Jim has given up trying to ask him how these appointments go. The answer is always the same. A shrug. It's fine.
It's not fine.
Billy's eyes fixate on the veins in his wrist. He rubs his thumb against it, tracing them. Hopper glances at him as he does this and it makes him feel uneasy. Coughs. Says they're having pizza and wings and soda tonight, "so think about what you want."
Another nod that doesn't tear Billy away from his fixation. His nails drag experimentally against the skin there. His thumb digs in like a dull knife, tracing the blue green veins, making half moons with his other fingernails that don't draw blood.
"What are you doing?" Jim says, irritated. That makes Billy jolt up, eyes shifting immediately away from his wrists. Getting caught floods him with a sense of shame, but he doesn't really understand what's so shameful about it.
"Nothing."
"It doesn't look like nothing "
Billy closes his eyes. "Just leave it alone, okay."
"Can't leave it alone if you're hurting yourself, Billy."
"I'm not!" Billy snaps, because he isn't. He's fixing it. He's stopping it. Hopper just doesn't understand.
Jim sighs. Every day feels like one step forward and three steps back with the boy. He understands what he went through before The Mindflayer. He can even relate to some of it, but it's hard to understand everything else. He tries, but it's never enough.
That's what the therapist is for, but with Billy refusing to open up it's been hard for him to make any progress there.
Billy sinks into his seat. His brows furrow, and the thoughts pour. His arms tingle. His blood turning thick and black like tar. The smell and the taste of chemicals in the back of his throat nauseate him. He tries not to cry.
It's there inside you. It's in you, and you have to dig it out. You have to make yourself well. You have to fix it. You have to make yourself clean, and there's only one way to do that. The doctors can't fix it. Only you can. Only you can dig it out. Dig it out. Fix it.
It loops through his head, and Billy pulls and snaps the rubber band against his wrist again to make it stop but it wont stop. When he gets home, he slams the door and locks himself in his bedroom. He pulls out his tweezers and picks all his scabs off.
Billy comes out of his room for dinner. Jim hands him an unopened liter of soda. Billy wont touch drink he doesn't open himself anymore. It's one of a number of strange behaviors Jim has had to get used to, but he doesn't fight Billy on it.
He figures it has to be a control thing. The Mind Flayer must have put so many things into his body without his permission that Billy needs this. That's half true. The other half being that Billy thinks that everything and everyone is trying to poison him.
Billy knows that's not right or fair.
Hopper isn't trying to hurt him, but what if Hopper didn't know it was poison? What if he just washed his hands and the soap got in the bottle? What if he didn't wash his hands and germs got in the bottle? That could kill him in his weakened state.
So Billy takes his fate into his own hands and opens his own bottles. If he makes himself sick, then Jim doesn't have to feel bad about it when he dies. No one should feel bad about him getting sick or dying when it's his fault and he should've stopped it.
Billy eats a couple chicken wings, but when he finds a black vein standing out against the white meat of the chicken, he stops and stares at it. It's in there. It's in your food. Spit it out. Get it out before it's too late. Billy pushes away and runs to the bathroom.
He brushes his teeth after for what feels like half an hour, checking his tongue and teeth for black blood or discoloration. Satisfied with his inspection, he pulls his sleeves up to check the scabbing wounds on his arms. The wounds he put there.
Seeing himself and his work in the mirror, the guilt and shame rises in his chest threatening to choke him. God. How could anyone want to touch him like this? He just wants it to stop. He just wants it to all go away. He feels out of control and unwell and...
He needs help.
Hopper sits in the living room reading the paper when Billy shuffles in.
He looks up at Billy and frowns. Billy's eyes are red rimmed, screaming distress. His sleeves are pulled up. The angry red and raw lines stand out, and Jim tries to stay calm. It's hard not to react, but he steels himself just enough not to chase Billy away.
"What's up, kiddo?"
He's tempted to ask if he's okay, but that never goes well because he's obviously not and Billy's not good at answering that question honestly.
"I just want it to stop."
Jim stands up quickly and pulls Billy against his chest. Billy crumbles against him, sobbing. "Why won't it stop? No matter how hard I try. It just gets worse. I try so hard, but it just wont go away." He rambles on and on while Jim strokes his back.
"We're going to get you some help."
Billy snapped the rubber band against his wrist in Hopper's car. He was going to see a specialist in his condition. He had recently been diagnosed with OCD, and the past few months out of the hospital were starting to make sense.
The thoughts that were plaguing him all the time. All the weird things he did to make them go away. His inability to feed himself. The way that digging his finger nails into his skin felt good and bad at the same time.
@disabledbillyandsteveweek Day 4 - Personal Heroes
——————————————————————————————————
It was when Eddie entered the scene that Steve realised it.
He and Dustin had really bonded. Steve felt like a older brother to the younger boy. Sure, they weren’t always interested in the same things. Dustin would ramble on about science whilst Steve would be watching football. But he listened to Dustin. He learnt about things that didn’t really excite him because they excited Dustin.
Steve supposed that Dustin would have found someone more like him when he reached high school.
And that person was Eddie Munson.
They played dnd. They watched movies. They read Lord of the Rings. That’s what Dustin told him as he gave him lifts to and from Hellfire club.
Which was pretty much the only time Steve actually saw Dustin anymore.
It was fine. Steve was happy that Dustin was happy. That was what mattered. Dustin’s happiness.
Then Eddie joined the little upside down trauma club. Steve understood. He really did. He even actually quite liked Eddie. But in the back of his mind was that little voice telling Steve that Eddie took Dustin away. That Dustin replaced Steve with Eddie.
If only Steve could silence that awful jealous voice.
——————————————————————————————————
It was after Eddie died that Dustin said it.
Eddie had died a heroic death. That’s for sure. Steve held nothing but respect for the guy. But he would always compare himself to Eddie in Dustin’s eyes.
Because Eddie was better for Dustin than Steve. They liked the same things. Eddie was able to be a mentor in ways Steve couldn’t. Eddie was the one who bloody died for Dustin. Steve was second place to someone he considered as his number one again.
Dustin said it one day when Steve was driving him around as per usual. So it was completely out of the blue.
Dustin got out of the car to attend the meeting he was frantically running late to. He had called Steve to ask if he could pick him up and of course Steve complied.
Dustin was grabbing his bag out of the foothold when he spoke. “Thanks, Steve. I don’t know what I would do without you. You’re my hero.”
Steve made a noise at that. A sort of shocked choke.
Dustin had wide eyes as he looked at Steve and he asked, “You did know that, right? Steve?”
Steve felt his throat constrict. “But…But what about Eddie?”
Dustin shrugged though Steve could see that he was slightly upset by the mention of the dead man. “People can have more than one hero.”
“Oh.”
Dustin sighed and sat back down. “Yeah, oh. Steve. I thought you knew.”
“Knew that I’m your hero? Why? Why me? We are nothing alike!”
“Yes we are, Steve! You were the first older kid to be nice to me. You believed me when no one else did. You have saved my life multiple times. You’re… the first adult I’ve met who is like me. Autistic. Dyslexic. Whatever. We are the same Steve. Even if we don’t like the same things. We are the same. Brothers.”
Steve could feel the tears building in his eyes when Dustin leaned over to hug him and when he ran off to his meeting. He was Dustin’s personal hero. Steve had never been that before.
The Disabled Billy and Steve Week Prompts are Here!
~~~
Hiya- we’ve been working on these for a few weeks but the disabled Billy and Steve prompts are now officially here! We’re not quite ready to decide on a week yet but hopefully people can get a bit more of a feel for the vibe of the event. The prompts are quite flexible so you can just work off the primary prompt and ignore the more specific prompt if they don’t really gel with what you want to do but hopefully you’ll all enjoy these! We tried to make the language as accessible and disability inclusive as we possibly could so that the prompts aren’t too confusing but if you would like some clarity, you can message @intothedysphoria or @hargrove-mayfields about any questions you have.
I think that’s it! If you didn’t get a chance to vote on the initial posts about the event and the server but want to be involved, you can absolutely take part when July comes or request a place on the server by messaging our personal tumblrs!
It isn't until Max switches off her stereo that she's able to pinpoint what the noise is. At first she thinks it's probably nothing. Why should she pay attention to some bumps and grumbling? Her and Billy are two growing kids in a shitty little house; it wouldn't surprise her if the whole thing had just been banging on their shared wall for her to turn her music down.
It's not though, at least not this time.It isn't Billy taking advantage of the mostly empty house to get himself in shape to either intimidate or impress Steve (she honestly can't be sure which it is anymore), and he's not even pounding on the other side of the wall for Max to be quiet. It sounds like he's redecorating his room... violently.
Another thump and--despite a small, petty part of herself saying 'just leave him to it, he's been more of an asshole than usual lately'--Max gets up and pushes her bedroom door open. It's barely two steps to Billy's door (again, tiny house, rooms right net to each other's... it doesn't leave much room for privacy or personal space) and then Max is raising her hand to knock; the sound of it is mostly lost beneath a final, louder crash and then a muffled thud.
For a second she hesitates, and then she opens the door. The final crash, apparently, seems to have been caused by Billy's desk chair being kicked across the room in a fit of rage. Or at least that's what Max is assuming from the fact it's on it's side across the space from where it belongs. It's not like Billy's room's huge, but that's probably still not good for the chair.
Then, finally, she registers Billy. He's sat on the floor, back to the wall and hands over his ears. The guy's looking up at her from beneath brows set into a furious scowl, but the effect of that is lessoned by his posture and the shining potential for tears in his eyes.
"Um," she says, rather eloquently.
Billy is still glaring.
"What's up?" she finishes, feeling lame.
For a long minute she just remains subject to Billy's glare. And then he looks away from her, staring at the floor like he wants it to burst into flames.
'Fine,' she thinks, 'be that way. See if I care.'
She's almost about to leave and go back to enjoying herself in her own room, listening to decent music and not the crappy metal Billy blasts all the time and--
"I can hear the fucking bubbles," Billy grumbles, and Max thinks for a second that she misheard him but, no, he's now subjecting the can of coke on his bedside table to his Death Stare.
Ah.
She gets it now. Billy's back may be facing the wall but it's not actually touching it, and he's wearing that faded band tshirt he always does when he's uncomfortable, and he's got his hands over his ears. So, it's one of those days.
Without saying another word, because doing anything will annoy Billy when he's like this and an annoyed Billy is an insufferable Billy, Max walks into his room, grabs the can, and walk straight back out.
Pouring the drink down the kitchen sink feels like a waste, but it's definitely not going in Billy's room, and Max certainly isn't drinking it because who knows what germs her brother has. The guy's pretty gross sometimes.
Rather than head straight back to her room, she swings through the living room and-- yep! There they are. Bright red ear defenders.
Billy doesn't snatch them from her hands when she offers them out, but it's a near thing. She counts that as the thanks it is and considers leaving but... She's seen the way he can't leave his hair alone on some days. She doesn't pretend to know if it's a restless movement thing, a preening thing, or a 'my hair is touching my neck and I hate it' thing, but she's definitely noticed him moving it around a lot on some days. Not because she cares or anything. Because she doesn't. They just live together and, y'know, small house...
With a huff of a sigh, she takes the hair tie from her wrist and holds it out to him. There's a pause where the both of them are just staring at the thing, and then Billy takes it, slow and careful. When he ties his hair up with it Max feels good for being useful... and, okay, maybe she cares about him a little. They're not, like, actually siblings or anything but she lives with him so she has to care. At least, that's how she justifies sitting across from Billy.
The silence is so loud. She hopes the ear defenders are helpful, because she'd love to block out whatever this pause right now is.
"Fucking autism," Billy murmurs. Finally. It feels like a truce. Some sort of olive branch.
Max nods. "Do you want some space?"
Billy just frowns at the floor again. Max shakes her head to herself and stares at the floor as well. The silence is a little less stifling now, suddenly. And maybe Max doesn't get all this perfectly, and Billy is still a pain in the ass... but she thinks that maybe they're okay. Maybe, weirdly, they are family, even on messy bad days.
My prompt: Harringrove- Dancing to music at their wedding
-•-•-•-
In 1996, Billy and Steve get married.
They didn’t want to wait an unknown amount of time just for a legal certificate that wouldn’t mean much anyways, so they each picked a ring from one another’s jewelry boxes, bought some thrifted suit jackets, and set the date.
Mrs. Byers was more than happy to lend her back yard to the event, as long as her kids agreed to help her with the load of work setting up and decorating would create. They got help from their friends, and through the grapevine that led to Carol, a now professional interior designer, getting her hands on the theme and decorations. Control, drama, whatever, it’s all in Carol's wheelhouse, but Billy’s just grateful she involved Steve in choosing the theme.
Steve had had a stroke and lost 90% of his eyesight in the aftermath of the Starcourt attacks. In the years since it’s never returned, the old nurse's promises of magic recovery all hollow attempts at making him feel better, so it meant a lot when Carol went out of her way to get tactile decorations for Steve to enjoy in his own right.
Massive fake flowers, braille signs and table settings, even the cake is textured with sugar pearls and rolled chocolate to give Steve something to touch, a way to build his own image of his special day. The cake came courtesy of Jonathan and Tommy, a more than unlikely duo who came together for their friends, and because of their mutual artistic interests.
Nobody expected Tommy to become a baker of all things, but damn if he doesn’t make the best tres leches cake any of them had ever tried. Though to be fair, the majority of their Midwestern friend group couldn’t say they had tried one before. Argyle and Billy had bragging rights on culinary experiences growing up in a more culturally diverse region.
Jonathan on the other hand had become a painter, and done the decorations for Tommy’s cake. After all the monster encounters, flashing lights and loud sounds weren’t really his thing. Photography just wasn’t his passion anymore. Art was still a big interest of his though, and it was actually Heather who introduced painting, since she took lessons as a little kid.
Heather, who is the stand-in bridezilla. Both Billy and Steve are calm about their wedding, caring more about what it means to each other than the actual event. That isn’t that case for miss Heather Ernestine Holloway-Buckley. She wants everything to be perfect. Absolutely. Everything.
From the tablecloths being the same color as Billy’s white and gold suit jacket, to the flower petals scattered in the neatly trimmed grass matching the crown of flowers in Steve’s hair. She demands everyone get matching dresses or suits depending on their preference, so the pictures will turn out perfect. In Jonathan’s place, El takes the photos, taught by her older brother about the craft and determined to capture as many memories as possible.
The rest of the smaller details are kept secret from the boys. Things like who will officiate, the food, how the backyard will be set up, and the music are all a total surprise to keep things exciting.
With everything in place, all they need is to be there. To say their vows and dedicate the rest of their lives to the one they consider their soulmate.
But Steve is terrified. Having nightmares every night leading up to the wedding because he’s scared his blindness is going to ruin something. Even Robin, who has been with him every step of the way, has been warning him numerous times to be careful on that night.
The wedding will be by daylight, made even brighter by small candles on the tables, and fairy lights strung in the trees, but that only means Steve can see basic, blurry silhouettes. If he trips, or runs into something, or someone, on his wedding day, he’ll never live down the embarrassment.
There’s only one day left until the ceremony when he brings it up to Billy, trying to be subtle about it and failing hugely.
At the breakfast table, over pre-game chocolate chip pancakes as Billy called them, Steve asks him, “Are you nervous?”
Even at this stage, Billy gets grumpy in the mornings. He cooked breakfast, sure, but he might as well still be asleep until noon. Usually, thanks to his pain meds, he might take a few half hour power naps up until then. Still, his answer and its gravelly delivery are playful and unserious, “Nah. I’m just eager for the honeymoon stage.”
Only, Steve’s nerves are so wound up, he can’t find it charming like usual. A simple, quiet, “Oh.” is his only response.
Right away, he can tell from the shift in his partner's energy that Billy knows what that means. Some part of Steve is glad he can’t look into Billy’s face and see the pain in his features, from knowing Steve isn’t perfectly alright.
That’s something Steve forgets sometimes, that just because he can’t see someone, doesn’t mean they can’t see him. Every emotion he feels is expressed freely in the look on his face, revealing the anxiety, and the bubbling uncertainty that makes this so hard.
Billy encourages him to talk about it, “Come on, Stevie. Spill. What’s goin’ on in that head of yours?”
Something tells Steve to lie. Maybe it’s the pressure of the wedding being just a little over twenty four hours away at this point. Probably that. His entire life he grew up thinking there was nothing more important than marriage, and now that he has the chance, he’s terrified of things going poorly. So he assures Billy, “Nothing! I get to marry you! What could be wrong?”
“Darling. I see those gears turning. You’re thinking something.” Billy sees through it. Of course he does or he wouldn’t have ever broken down Steve’s mask personality enough to one day become his husband. Billy must worry that he hasn’t done exactly that, because he asks, softer and more quivery than his other words, “Getting cold feet?”
“No! Oh, god Billy no. Never ever.” Steve promises passionately, reaching over to the spot where Billy is for his hand, the responsibility of actually placing their hands together and sharing touch placed onto Billy. Squeezing it gently so he knows he feels him, Steve tries to explain his feelings, “I just. I feel wiggly.”
“Can you tell me what wiggly means?” Billy asks, always asking questions to make sure he understands Steve’s needs enough to help. It’s no mystery why he loves him so much.
That said, it takes a moment of thinking for Steve to put it into words, “Like everything’s shaky and bad. And I’m scared and nervous. And kinda shy. But the bad kind of shy.”
“All that about the wedding?” Billy’s definitely worried about him. Scared that maybe marriage, even if it’s not technically official, is possibly too much pressure for him.
Steve eases that quiet nagging with his response, and takes the blame too, “More like about messing up the wedding.”
Trying to soothe what little tension there has become, Billy softly comforts Steve, “Honey, you’re not going to mess up. There’s no right way to get married.”
“But not everyone who gets married is blind.” Steve mumbles, and Billy realizes it’s that kind of wiggly.
Ever since losing his sight, Steve’s been a bit more quiet. It’s not like he changed, but Billy had a suspicion there was something brewing under the surface. Now that it’s been confirmed that Steves worries come from that, and since fear of the changes disability brought to their lives is something Billy is familiar with himself, he thinks he knows how to help.
“I'm in a wheelchair maybe four days a week, and the others I’m in bed. That’s not exactly typical either.” Is his choice of words.
It seems to work for a moment, since Steve relaxes a bit, but then his mind starts going again and he fishes up a new fear to bring to Billy.
“But you have special braces and stuff if you want to stand up for pictures and dancing.. I can’t just put in a new pair of eyes.” He sounds almost sad.
Billy wants to make sure he knows he doesn’t have to feel that way.
He asks, “Is that what you’re worried about? Dancing?”
Steve shrugs, still physically expressive as a habit despite his inability to see those mannerisms, and says quietly, “A little.”
Billy seems to think that’s a fixable issue, even offering up a quick solution, “Chrissy did cheer for her whole life and she’s married to a paraplegic. She can totally help us with a dance.”
“She’s also very pregnant. I don’t wanna bother-“ Steve denies right away, but Billy’s already wheeling over to the phone before he can really stop him.
“Too bad. I’m already calling her.” Billy’s tone of voice just sounds like he’s smiling mischievously, which has Steve rolling his eyes without meaning anything by it, especially when Billy greets their friend by saying, “Hey, Chris! Got a second, toots?”
•-•-•-•-•
Before Steve knows it, it’s the next day, and the time for practice is over.
Instead of a wedding march, the soft strum of an electric guitar signals Steve to come down the aisle, which is really just a bolt of soft fabric rolled out over the grass and weighed down by dollar tree candles.
He’s not sure who’s playing, but it’s sweet, the soft version of a Cinderella song Billy and Steve both love. It brings a smile to his face, but doesn’t cancel out the clammy feeling he gets when he realizes it’s time to step forward and actually walk down the aisle.
It’s only the officiant at the other end, Billy still inside getting ready for his entrance after Steve’s, so he’s not sure why he’s so scared. With Dustin and Claudia on either side of him, and a hand on the harness his guide dog wears, he should feel stable and supported.
But every step forward makes that intensity of the butterflies in his stomach only grow stronger.
Until something cuts through, the voice of the officiant;
“And here we have Groom number one. Led by the one and only, Miss Peanut Butter Cup the Beagle. She’s feisty, she’ll bite your ass, and she loves to cuddle. Sounds like a great honeymoon.”
Talking like an infomercial, or some kind of weird radio announcer, Murray fucking Bauman is the man who will marry Steve to the love of his life. At least half of his fears dissolve on the spot. This isn’t some all serious, super tense event like his biological parents would have planned for him.
This is a celebration, and all of his friends and family are going to stumble their way through it, so why shouldn’t he?
Him and his Henderson entourage keep walking to the makeshift altar, and Murray keeps talking, “Oh yeah. And the rest. You all know him, you all love him, it’s Dustin! Here to impart his uninvited wisdom unto the newlyweds. And what’s this? A Jewish mom who will adopt any roughian street kid she sees? That’s right folks, it’s Claudia Henderson, and with her she has- her newest adoptee!”
“Stefan Harrington! And today is his big day. Everybody give him a hand. He can’t see your stupid cheeseburger smiles. Give him the entrance you’d give the president if he walked past.” Murray laughs at himself in the midst of the lengthy introduction, “Actually, no. Please don’t do that. Just clap for him.”
All of this makes Steve giggle his way down the aisle, largely forgetting about his fears of ruining the ceremony. After all, with Murray in charge, there are no rules to abide by.
When he makes it to his spot, and Dustin and Claudia step away, Steve has a one-on-one with Murray, “How you doing, kid?”
Recognizing there’s no time to dive into the nuances, Steve says simply, “I’m okay.”
“Just okay? This is the real deal! You gotta be pumped!” Murray encourages him, which makes Steve remember that there’s something holding him back.
“I’m too wiggly.” He sounds defensive.
Murray on the other hand just sounds happy, and eternally positive, as he suggests, “Shake out those wiggles. C’mon, I’ll do it with you.”
Together the two of them shake and flap and wiggle, a moment that never would’ve happened without the support Steve has gotten from his family. There was a time when, although he wasn’t very good at masking, he’d have been too ashamed to openly stim in front of an entire wedding party of the most important people in his life. Now though, by the end of this, he’s giggling and smiling and having the time of his life.
Checking in again, Murray asks him, “That better?”
“A little.” Steve shrugs, struggling to assign any qualities to the big big feelings he has. Feelings are so hard right now.
He’s getting married.
“C’mon, what can I do to make it best?” Murray keeps trying, something of another parent to Steve. Even making another joke, “I mean, I can start taking my clothes off, but I don’t think Joyce would be too happy.”
A little bit haunted by that mental image, but mostly amused, Steve shakes his head, and gives his best response, “Just, can you read slowly? And not tease me so much during the real thing?”
Instantly Murray agrees lightheartedly, “A deals a deal. Smack me in the head if I screw it up, alright. This is the only time I’ll ever tell you that because I am perfect otherwise.”
It’s the guitar melody rising up that cuts off their conversation, and suddenly Steve’s heart rate is picking up again. This is really happening.
Murray puts it not so gracefully, “Oops. I’ll stop running my mouth now. Looks like your other half is coming.”
Since Steve can’t see what’s happening, Murray goes back into his narration mode, which Steve appreciates a lot.
“Coming up next folks is our half off sale. That’s right, now you can get two for the price of one. Just add a wedding band- Sold separately.” Murray jokes, earning a little scoff from Joyce, which makes Steve laugh softly.
He’s grateful for the dry, cheesy sense of humor Murray has, otherwise he might be totally panicking right now.
“What’s this? We have a flower girl, people. Leading the way is miss Chrissy with her lovely paper flower petals. Behind her, to match her developing appreciation for all things butch, Heather does not have flowers. Oh no. She has seashells. Imported from the fine beaches of the dollar store they were purchased at.”
It’s probably rude, but Steve loves the mental image it gives him. He can imagine Heather in her suit, and Chrissy in her flowy dress, decorating the aisle with delicate little pieces of Billy and Steve’s love. The best part is he can hear them laughing at the jokes about themselves, so he can imagine the smiles on their faces.
His favorite part is the next introduction, the one that refers to his culture most, “Last but not least, Jane brought some sea glass, since there will be no stomping of any glass until our two grooms get some functioning body parts. Since that will never happen, join me in telling the Jewish ancestors to suck it and deal. But not groom number two. He’s too catholic.”
The trio of groomsmaids stand off to the side, their shoes crunching on the grass, and Steve knows what that means. It means Billy is coming.
“Speaking of, and without further ado- escorted by his creepy little sibling Max, here he is. Come on down William.”
The walk is slow, with Billy using his limb braces and forearm crutches instead of his wheelchair for this special moment. Steve can be patient. He’s wanted this to happen since his third date with Billy, when he brought training treats for Peanut Butter Cup and a sensory necklace for Steve. What’s a few more minutes?
The pacing does however warrant more Murray monologuing, which is something of a treat anyways.
“Ooh, not too shabby for a man with no usable limbs. Speaking of, why exactly did we just turn the aisle into a safety hazard? Oh well. At least if he falls on his ass, he’ll look good doing it.”
The comment must remind him to give a description of Billy for his sightless groom to be, “A diamond earring, tons of mascara, way too much hairspray in that fluffy perm- I’m starting to feel underdressed.”
And then he’s there. Steve can feel his energy, the radiant, sunshiney happiness Billy always produces. Since there are no rules, he decides to reach out his palms, the sign that means he wants to hold Billy’s hands. The weight and warmth of the touch when Billy obliges adds more butterflies to Steve’s chest.
He’s smiling like an idiot, and if he had to guess, he’d say Billy probably is too.
After a few moments, they’re interrupted by Murray clearing his throat, “That’s it? No hello?”
Steve can practically hear the eye roll Billy gives as he speaks, “Hi Murray. Don’t forget this is my wedding.”
“Ohhh. And here I thought this was a bat mitzvah. Don’t panic, but I think I grabbed the wrong book.” Murray pretend-whispers, letting the imaginary tension build before he pats them both on the back, and assures, “Kidding. Sure I was the worst choice for this, I don’t know shit about romance and never will, but I can do my job.”
The guitar music ends, and the residual chattering and laughing stops too. It’s time. Steve’s hands are shaking. Billy squeezes them once reassuringly.
“Once upon a time, William Reuben Hargrove met Stefan Mihai Carson Harrington; They fought, they fucked, blah blah blah, they caught feelings- and a monster possession- Oh, whatever. Point is, they’re getting married now! Two souls united and all that jazz. So are you ready to say ‘I do?’” Murray rushes through a fake service, earning groans from much of the audience.
And from Steve, who whines, “Murrayyy!”
“Fine, fine. But you're gonna pay me after this, right? I’m a licensed therapist now. My services aren’t free anymore.” Murray snarks, totally playful and unserious.
He’s not the only one who can do sarcasm, since the entire wedding party starts to boo. Steve is pretty sure he hears Carol, his strongest advocate since they were kids, shout the loudest to, “Get on with it!”
•-•-•-•-•-•
An hour later, they were married. Mister and mister Hargrove.
In the style of a picnic of sorts, everyone had brought food to share. From Claudia’s mac n cheese, to Heather and Robins take on a vegan sushi, their newest cooking experiment, to Sue Sinclairs potato salad that she sent with Lucas even though she couldn’t be there herself- there was a little something for everyone. Steve personally loved the Zeytoon Parvardeh that Joyce had made from an old family recipe. Billy preferred the ceviche Argyle brought, so he’d fed Steve all his olives, a nice romantic moment that had Steve blushing.
By now the actual party aspect of the day has begun, after the cake had been cut and the wine poured. Joyce limited the amount of alcohol allowed to be served to two bottles, one white and one red, to respect the boundaries of those like Billy recovering among them. Tommy and Robin probably have drunk the majority of that portion, and the two of them are tipsy, pestering Eddie over at his makeshift music booth.
While all the noise and everything started picking up, Steve had settled into a little corner by himself to stay calm. He hears someone approaching by the sound of footsteps, and turns his head their way, to make sure he can hear them properly.
Turns out it’s Joyce, who enthusiastically says, “Congratulations, sweetie!”
Steve thanks her, and reaches for her hand, to make a connection that will make communication easier, “Thank you, Mrs. Byers.”
Joyce rubs his knuckles, her tone soft and kind, “I hope Murray didn’t ruin your ceremony. Would you believe me if I said that was the toned down version of his original plan?”
Steve brushes it off in stride, “Somehow, yes, but we loved it, Mrs B. Billy hasn’t laughed like that in a while.”
“I’m glad. This was your day. All about you!” Joyce enthuses, sounding a little relieved to hear her friend hadn’t messed anything up, “I bet you feel so happy!”
Steve just nods, and flaps his free hand, the words escaping him but the physicality of happiness easy to express.
“Can I hug you, sweetie?” Joyce asks, delighted by Steve’s own happiness.
Now, Steve isn’t the most hug friendly person, but today, a nice tight embrace from Joyce Byers sounds like a much needed break. A respite and a safe place.
He tells her, “Yes please.”
And so she wraps her arms around him and squeezes the life out of him, gushing, “Oooh, I’m so so proud of you! You’ve come so far!”
All Steve can say is a bashful, “Thank you, Mrs. B.”
The hug lasts maybe a few minutes, of Steve taking deep breaths of perfume and cuddling soft brown hair, just savoring the whole thing and the therapeutic effect it has on him.
But all too soon, his worst fear is reality- It’s time for his first dance with Billy.
Eddie announces it, since he’s something of the coordinator now, “Looks like it’s time for a sloooow dance. Where are my two grooms?”
Joyce sounds thrilled on the other hand, “Are you ready, dear?”
Steve physically winces, “Actually…”
“Don’t worry, sweetie. You’ll do just fine. Just breathe.” Joyce puts her hand on his back and helps him catch his breath for a second, before offering sympathetically, “He’s waiting for you, sweetie. Do you want me to walk you to him?”
Nervously, Steve nods. Earlier today, he married the love of his life. That was the easy part. Dancing in front of literally everyone he’s ever cared about is not easy.
Joyce is kind enough to walk him to Billy, leaving Peanut Butter Cup asleep under Steve’s chair. Letting him do it himself would’ve probably ended in him knocking Billy over, since his braces are all that’s holding him up. Instead he gets to settle into Billy’s embrace, with Joyce’s help to sturdy them both.
His head rested on Billy’s shoulder, and Billy’s arms around his waist, toes together, they started to get into the music.
Their dance song is fitting, a song Billy had learned marching in the streets for the rights of the disabled like them. On Being Special by Sue Napolitano. A beautiful poem all about family and love.
It sets a rhythm good for swaying, and soft little shuffles. Getting lost in it, Steve closes his eyes, blocking out what little light gets through, and lets his husband guide him. Billy knows the song by heart, and, pressing his lips to give a gentle kiss to Steve’s forehead, he mumbles the lyrics against his skin.
Even though there’s a lot of their friends there, in that moment it’s just them. Center stage, dancing on scrap lauan in Mrs. Byers’ backyard to the gentle crackling and crooning of a beat up old stereo, since Eddie and the band didn’t think they could do it justice.
Not even the thunking and clacking of Billy’s hardware is enough to take anyone out of the moment. This is them. Their reality.
Their disabled love story.
Steve is thankful he had Murray and Joyce and Chrissy and Billy to ease him through the nerves that led to this very moment. He did it. He had his first dance, with the love of his life, on his wedding day. Steve is maybe crying happy tears by the time it’s over, but he can hear from the general sniffles that a few other people are too.
When the song ends, there’s a beat of silence where nobody really knows what to do next. Steve can tell just from the energy shift that they’re wondering if they should help the newlyweds off the dance floor. But Steve doesn’t want to let go yet, and since they don’t move, that must be a cue for some folks to join them in dancing.
Or, that’s what Tommy interprets it to mean, because he’s stomping over towards them and shouting, “Let’s fucking goooo!!”
Steve guesses he dragged Carol along too, because she’s shriek-laughing his name, “Tomàs!!”
Their boldness inspires other couples to join in. Jonathan and Argyle, Chrissy and Eddie and their little two year old, Heather and Robin, even Hopper and Joyce, after a little coercion to get the grumpy old cop off his ass to have some fun too. The kids all come up together, leaving just a few stragglers, one being Murray. His dance partner of choice happens to be miss Peanut Butter Cup, bribed with a few blueberries he’d grabbed from the snack table.
They’re all together, and they’re all happy. So fucking happy.
•-•-•
A few songs in, Billy taps on Steve’s cheek, after giving him a small little kiss, to alert him to a conversation.
He asks softly, “Sweetheart, Patrick is dancing all by himself. Haven’t talked to him in a good while either. D’you think I could-“
But Steve doesn’t even make him finish that justification. He’s overdue for a break, and loves their friends just as much as Billy, so he’d actually prefer it if he did go to Patrick for a bit.
He tells his husband, “You don’t have to ask, babe. Go see your friend.”
“You’re sure?” Billy checks in again.
Steve nods, and gives him another small kiss to seal the deal, “I need a rest anyways. Big feelings.”
It’s still hesitantly that Billy pulls away, and only after a tight embrace, but he lets Steve go get his dog off of Murray and take his seat back in the corner. On his way away, he hears Billy call playfully, “Hey, McKinney! Get your ass over here!”
•-•-•-•-•
Out of nowhere, Steve hears the tapping of little feet running right towards him.
He’s already deduced who it is, based on the fact that there’s only one little tyke here, but the bubbly excited voice that falls to him gives it away even more, “Teevee!!”
Little Jackson is an outgoing boy, his enthusiasm curbed by nothing. Except maybe bumble bees, since he’s afraid of those, but there’s no buzzing demons around, so he’s all giggles as he pulls on Steve’s jacket sleeve.
On instinct, Steve picks him up, and blows a raspberry on the toddlers chubby little cheek, “Jackie!! There’s my favorite little groomsman!”
Jackson kicks his legs as Steve tips him onto his back, tickling his tummy and laughing along with him. Chrissy tells him he’s not as open with other people, but Steve has always been good with kids, so maybe it’s true.
Something about their pure hearts reminds him of who he’s always wanted to be. Their wonder and their fascination with everything just lifts his heart up. And at the moment, gives him the courage to get back on his feet and have some more fun.
Together with little Jackson, he twirls and spins, earning an endless stream of giggles from his friends’ baby boy.
“Wheee, you like to dance, huh?” Steve asks him, and immediately gets a very enthusiastic response.
“Yah!!!” Jackson even claps his little hands, a stim he’s clearly picked up from Eddie. Their little one is autistic and has adhd just like his dad, which probably also has to do with why he loves Steve so much.
And also why he has an abrupt energy crash and falls asleep without warning, his curly head laying on Steve’s shoulder, drooling down his back. They got their pictures already, so he doesn’t mind the mess. He just quietly takes Jackson back to a seat and cradles him softly, listening to the ongoing party and reveling in that bliss.
At some point, Billy snuck up on him, announcing his presence with a soft pet name, “Sweetheart.”
“Yes, my love?” Steve hums, turning his head in the general direction of Billy.
He’s not expecting what Billy is about to say.
“What’s the next step after marriage?”
Because of how random it seems, Steve has to think about what he’s asking, taking a moment before he remembers the old rhyme from childhood, “Uh-uh. No baby carriages yet, bubs. Give it at least a week.”
Billy is persistent, if only playfully, suggesting, “There’s always the honeymoon.”
Patting little Jackson’s back, Steve just responds vaguely, “We’ll see.”
All of it is lighthearted teasing, and a little bit of their classic pigtail pulling. They’ll talk about their future seriously when they’re ready.
That’s something Steve loves the most about Billy. He always considers him first, not societal conventions or outrageous expectations. Just Steve, and what he wants or feels comfortable with. Soulmates, he’d decided.
After all, internalized ableism be damned, what could be better than marrying his soulmate?
~~~~~~~~
Hi all! If you’ve read this far, please don’t click off!
As both mod and contributor to this event, Ive been inspired to use my fics to boost charities that aid the disabled community!
For this day, I’ve chosen the Friends of Disabled Adults and Children.
This is a charity that has a mission of “[assisting] individuals with disabilities… [by providing] free or low-cost wheelchairs and other home medical equipment.” This includes cars, tubs, power chairs, stairlifts, and more.
While founded as a religious organization, they serve all disabled community members with no limitations, and have a board of 35 members that work together to provide the best care.
They accept online donations, mail-in checks, purchases from their thrift store, or donations of gently used mobility equipment.
Friends of Disabled Adults and Children is based in Tucker, Georgia and can provide assistance to disabled individuals within a 25 mile radius of their facility. On their website, you can find statewide partners of FODAC for more resources.
Here is a link to their site: https://fodac.org
Friends of Disabled Adults and Children – Keeping People With Disabilities Moving!
Nancy undoubtedly was Steve’s first love. He loved her laugh. Her smile. Her hair. Her brains. He just loved her. He loved when he cuddled her. He loved when he made her happy. He loved that he could give, give and give. He loved that Nancy loved him.
Bullshit.
Their entire relationship gone in one word.
Bullshit.
It broke Steve. Nancy had never loved him. Nancy cheated on him with Jonathan. Sure, it was at the very end of their relationship when they had fallen apart. But they were still together.
Bullshit.
Steve had given Nancy his everything. King Steve was gone. The act was all he had back then. His shield because he wasn’t quite like everyone else. But he had given it up. Because he had Nancy. But now he didn’t have Nancy.
No Nancy. No title. Nothing. What was he now?
Bullshit.
Steve had a broken crown and a broken heart. He had the fact that he had become a glorified babysitter. He had the kids. One of which was Nancy’s little brother. He couldn’t escape her. That used to be romantic.
Now she had Jonathan with her. Now Steve was broken and useless without her. He had nothing to fill that hole in his heart that longed to love and be loved. No fake popularity. No one who loved him. Just a bunch of kids he could drive around and the constant sight of his ex and the man she cheated on him with.
Bullshit.
——————————————————————————————————
Then he started at Scoops Ahoy and the summer from Hell began. But he met Robin.
Boy, if Steve thought that he loved making Nancy laugh, he was wrong. He really, really loved making Robin laugh. So much made Robin laugh. Not jokes like King Steve made. Not Nancy laughing at him being stupid. Robin and him laughed at everything. It was them.
Steve had finally found his soulmate. The one who could make him laugh alongside them. The one who would give as much as Steve would give. Someone who could match his energy and made him feel like he didn’t have to be someone else. Someone who got when everything became too much.
At first, it felt like a punch to the gut that Robin didn’t like him back but the second that Steve imagined him and Robin kissing, he shuddered. Robin and him were not romantic soulmates. Just platonic with a capital P.
They found similarities. Robin was autistic. And it turns out so was Steve. It was hard to stop after so many years of pretending that he was “normal” but he finally had somebody who wouldn’t judge him for it. Not like Nancy would have.
Robin and Steve. Steve and Robin.
They did everything together.
They talked about girls together. Vickie. Whatever girl Steve had a date with. The ultimate wingman or woman for one another. It felt like Steve could be happy without romance. Like he was worth more than just what he could give to people.
Really, Steve wouldn’t be surprised if they were twins separated at birth.
Twin souls.
——————————————————————————————————
Eddie Munson was a first for Steve. The first crush on a guy he registered. Looking back there were others. But Eddie?
No, that was so obvious to Steve.
He wanted to hold him close. Kiss him. Listen to him. To be part of Eddie’s life. He felt the urge to give as he often did in relationships. To give his all and his everything. Like he needed to unload all of his love.
Robin was ecstatic when he told her. She asked if he could be bisexual. Steve hadn’t known what that meant but after a quick talk, yeah. Steve was bisexual.
But he couldn’t have Eddie Munson. No, Eddie hated him. For what he did in school. For who he used to be. He didn’t fit with that image anymore but no one could forget King Steve.
Billy Hargrove died thinking that Steve was just King Steve. And when Steve thought about it, holy shit, he had definitely been attracted to Billy. Despite everything.
But this was about Eddie. Did Steve have a thing for bad boys? Unattainable bad boys.
Because he could never have Eddie Munson.
Because Eddie had a girlfriend.
——————————————————————————————————
Steve didn’t mean for it to happen. But him and Eddie practically had shared custody over the kids and were basically forced to become friends.
As such he became friends with Eddie’s girlfriend, Chrissy.
Shit, he could see why they loved each other. Whilst Eddie was all metal on the outside and dorky on the inside, Chrissy looked perfectly preppy but was a absolute badass on the inside. Chrissy was sweet but would definitely kill someone who dared to harm the ones she loved.
It wasn’t Steve’s fault that he fell for her too. That he wanted to be a part of Chrissy and Eddie’s relationship. He wanted them both in the most pure and the most dirty ways. Steve was convinced he was broken again. You couldn’t want more than one person.
Of course, Steve wasn’t the only one who fell. Chrissy was just so loveable. Robin had a big fat crush on her too. But it was okay because they knew that the other liked her. And Eddie in Steve’s case. But they would never get what they wanted.
Because it was impossible.
——————————————————————————————————
They all had wanted out. Out of Hawkins. They had defeated Vecna. It was over.
But still they couldn’t stay there.
So that was how Steve was sharing an apartment with his two crushes who were dating each other and his twin soul who were so alike they had a crush on the same person.
It was there that the doctor noticed something. Steve had his head bashed just one too many times. They found out that Steve had a traumatic brain injury. Not only that but Steve had lost part of his hearing. He had to get a hearing aid.
That was tough on Steve. He couldn’t get out of bed most days. But his roommates were the reason he was able to carry on.
Robin would treat him pretty much as normal. Like the entire world hadn’t shifted. But it was the little things for him. She encouraged him to learn sone sign language. She learnt with him. She encouraged him to take more breaks throughout the day.
Eddie was a bit more tough love style. When Steve needed to get up but didn’t want to, Eddie dragged him up. When Steve needed to sit down but was too dizzy to move, Eddie would pick him up and bring him to his bed or the couch. He would bring him food and water.
Chrissy checked on him emotionally more than anything. She sat and talked with him for hours. She listen to him about his day or his past or whatever he wanted to talk about. She shared her troubles with anorexia or her more recent issues with being mostly blind which showed him that he wasn’t alone in some weird way.
So a couple of months later, Steve was nervous when Eddie and Chrissy called a roommate meeting. Him and Robin had shared a glance to confirm that neither knew what this was about.
They never expected it.
Eddie and Chrissy came out. Eddie was omnisexual. Chrissy was pansexual. They were together but they were polyamorous. They wanted to date Steve and Robin. Well, Chrissy wanted to date Robin. Eddie didn’t want to date Robin. He knew Robin wasn’t into dudes.
And now?
Well, Steve and his twin soul had found romantic happiness. They shared a girlfriend. Then Steve and that girlfriend shared a boyfriend. They were actually able to have what seemed impossible.
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It was a bit after that when Nancy came back into his life.
As Nancy always wanted, she went to a big university for journalism. She had the picture perfect life. Until she tore it all down.
Steve was the one who answered her call. Who sat talking to the first person to break his heart as she cried her eyes out. Jonathan and her had broke up. It was over tears that Nancy apologised, because she knew she had treated Steve badly and then she treated Jonathan in the same way.
But Nancy had figured out that puzzle now. She didn’t love Steve romantically. She didn’t even love Jonathan romantically. She apologised to Steve for not realising that she could never have loved him romantically, no matter how hard she had tried. Nancy didn’t like dudes.
Steve felt that old bitterness at Nancy, for she really had been awful. But he set it aside. He told her that it was okay that she liked women. Yes, her mum could kick her out. But Nancy would be okay. But she couldn’t lie to herself or others anymore. The only way she could find true happiness was being true to herself. She would be okay.
Steve fell asleep crying that night. In the arms of the three people who he loved most in this world. And Steve would be okay.
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After Nancy’s call, it seemed that the past wouldn’t leave them alone.
They got a new set of neighbours. The kids from before had moved out. A new trio of young adults moved in.
The first one he met was a dark haired person called Eden. Eden seemed friendly enough and was also definitely queer. Robin thought to ask their pronouns. Eden was non-binary. They were dating one of their roommates. A queer solidarity formed between the two apartments.
It wasn’t until a week later that Steve met Eden’s roommates.
He hadn’t recognised Argyle. He had only met the man once. Jonathan, however, he registered immediately.
And it was awkward.
But they tried. And they tried.
One night, Jonathan asked to speak to Steve. Alone.
They talked about Nancy. Nancy who had broke both of their hearts but they were both glad she was happy now. According to Jonathan, Nancy moved to New York to further her journalism. She had also found a girlfriend who she was extremely happy with. Who she was in love with.
And Jonathan was in love too. With Argyle who was also dating Eden.
And Steve melted the fear off Jonathan’s face when he told him about his polycule. How in love Steve was.
They got along much better after that.
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It was Chrissy who suggested it.
She had said it to Steve, Eddie and Robin first. She liked Jonathan. She wanted to date him. She wanted to ask him out. And she knew that Eddie and Steve felt the same way. Chrissy was always the most perceptive out of them despite her not being able to actually see anything.
It was Steve who made the second suggestion. Really, he enjoyed spending time with Argyle too so he might ask Argyle out as well.
Robin nodded and continued to slurp down spaghetti.
They asked Jonathan, Argyle and Eden the next morning. The date was due for that evening.
Steve and Jonathan found themselves alone together in the kitchen. They cooked popcorn together and made fun of each other. It was easy in a way that they hadn’t quite managed before.
Jonathan kissed Steve on his way out.
Argyle did too obviously.
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If you had told King Steve what his life would look like now, he wouldn’t have believed you.
He would have said that he wanted to work for his dad, marry Nancy and carry on his family legacy.
But Steve was happier than ever.
He didn’t speak to his parents.
He didn’t speak to Nancy.
He lived with his best friend and twin soul, Robin Buckley, who made silly jokes with him and taught him to be loud and proud with his differences.
Eddie Munson was his boyfriend. They tumble around in play fights and Steve watches Eddie run the Hellfire club. He would sometimes even join in.
Chrissy Cunningham was his girlfriend who cuddled with him on the couch and was the person he confided all his secrets in.
Jonathan Byers was his boyfriend. He posed for Jonathan’s photos and they kissed over a pot of buttery popcorn.
Argyle was his boyfriend who also had a scary amount of weed. But he was soft and sweet. He calmed Steve down with his smooth tones and relaxed attitude. He grounded him.
Yeah, Steve was content with his life. Ready to take whatever comes next face on with his partners.
