Hopper calls every other young person 'kid', including (mostly) El and Will.
But Jonathan?
He calls him son.
It starts off as a joke, as he gets Jonathan laughing a little bit in the midst of those cold, cold nights without his brother or his mother by his side.
Jokes about music, about how goddamn old he is, about pop culture he hasn't the foggiest idea about.
But in that final few months before the Big Bad, the run-up to killing Vecna once and for all?
He catches him ducking his head and smiling when he says, 'You and I both know that cooking is neither your mother's strong point nor mine, son.'
It happens again when he rumbles a 'Night, son,' as they all head off to bed. (Jonathan freezes in the doorway, then responds with a shy 'Night, Jim.')
And if, after it's all done, he says a reflex, 'You're safe now, son,' as his eldest looks up at him from his hospital bed, eyes wide and shining?
If Jonathan, voice hoarse from two weeks of chemical sleep, murmurs a quiet, 'Thanks dad'? If he lets Jim pull him into a gentle, enveloping hug?
Paging @ubernoona and anyone else who likes good (mostly) soft Steddie fanfic...
This will be chapter 1 of my as-yet-untitled 1990s Steddie fic. I'm working on getting an AO3!
CWs: brief mentions of serious injury and injury rehabilitation; mentions of Chrissy's death; mentions of social isolation and Satanic Panic.
Chapter 1: Let Me Live
It's something he thought he'd never say.
Even with his usual optimism, even with his dumb belief in the light side of life, he'd always been convinced that he was one of life's punching bags. That he deserved all he got (except for the whole screaming-mob-bullshit).
But right here? Right now?
He can't believe his luck. Because Eddie Munson's life is...good. Real good. He has a job he loves, and a goddamn house, and a bike, and a moderately successful band. In the morning, or the evening, or whenever his shifts start, he ties back his hair, and puts on his scrubs, and goes to help. He gets to help, and the town just lets him.
It had taken another fucking year for him to graduate, and another for the town to stop seeing a demon every time they looked at him. There were still people who crossed the street, or hovered while he had his hands on their loved ones, but his name was clear. Had been since Hop and Joyce and Nancy had found out that Jason had 'really happened' to Chrissy...which was a total fucking lie, but one he was happy to keep up.
He'd used the little bit of hush money from the police department to put towards community college; he'd discovered that Ritalin helped him focus real good, in a happy accident, and he'd managed to claw his way back to a 2.9 GPA over the six months left. Math still fucking sucked, but he'd discovered a talent for biology and (ha) chemistry. Worked his way through in the factory alongside his uncle, and managed to get an associate's degree.
Dustin, at college for a social work degree, had needled him to apply for the next year and "do what you really wanna, Eddie! You got a chance, you can take it! Apply or I'll come and steal your goddamn D20s, you know I will-".
It had been the kick in the balls he needed, bossy little shit. He'd put in an application after a straight week of work around his clock-ons. Got a letter three weeks later, which started with the words, "We are delighted to offer you a place at interview..." and just about knocked him on his ass. Wayne had looked up at him and pulled him in to a bonecracking hug, and he'd sworn a tear had glistened in the corner of his eye.
He'd walked in in one of Hop's borrowed dress shirts and a pair of itchy suit pants (swiped from the miscellany box in the locker room). And a pair of brand fuck new boots, courtesy of Joyce.
God, that woman was a fucking miracle.
In the months of recovery after the Upside Down, Joyce had looked after him like she was his own mother. Which she sorta was now, he supposed. She'd held the handles of his wheelchair as he'd gotten walking again (when one of the Party wasn't there). She'd cooked him the more expensive, lighter things that his shredded stomach could handle, and waved Wayne away when he tried to pay her. His new clothes, all the things he liked, arrived at the trailer every Wednesday morning, freshly washed and ironed. She'd even recreated his battle vest with patches the twerps and mini-twerps had got by mail.
He'd taken to going for breakfast with her on a weekday morning once Jonathan had left for college, and El had him as an emergency number for any shit going down at parties. God, she was 17 now. 17, and he was 26.
...Fuck.
So he'd walked in to the interview for the nursing degree year, hair tied up and the back of his neck prickling. No rings, tatties covered, nervous as fuck. Hop had cornered him before the drive to Indianapolis and forcefully reminded him that he had an interview for a reason. Wayne had clapped him on the shoulder and mumbled 'Look smart, kid.'
He'd nearly thrown up while he was following the reception lady through the halls, and shifted on his feet as she opened the door.
The interviewers had smiled at him. Smiled at him, and called him Eddie, and said that his letter had sounded like he was 'one of life's helpers'. He'd gone shy, for fucksakes, not used to the compliment. They'd said they were looking for candidates with life experience, which (they joked gently) he had in spades. And then something had caught his eye.
The third interviewer had a blouse, with the sleeves rolled up. And a tattoo. Of the tab. For Master Of Puppets.
And he'd relaxed, just a little. The interview had gone so damn well they'd offered him a scholarship from their hardship fund.
It had been the first time anyone had said they really wanted him and he'd believed it.
So here he was. Eddie the metalhead, Eddie the DM, Eddie the son, the big brother, the ER nurse. Helping out and dispensing the right drugs for people and getting paid for it. More money that he'd ever seen in his life, and a tiny part of him that could say he was worth something.
@sequencefairy here's some mildly spicy (like chipotle level) Yennskier knife sexytimes as requested...
No smut but suggestive themes, CW for knives for some reason
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By the pricking of my thumbs
He's just rounded the corner when it happens. There's an odd whistling sound, a dull thud, and his vision is filled with black brocade and purple eyes and lustrous hair. Lot of hair, that woman.
"Shut up, bard."
He snorts inelegantly, tries to move his arms in an expansive gesture-
An ornate silver dagger shines in his peripheral vision. Pinned to the outside of her chamber door by a shoulder of his chemise, he looks down at Yennefer and smirks as she stares up at him.
Her gaze narrows at the turned-up corners of his mouth, and she stalks towards him, drawing herself up to her full height with the hilt still firmly held inside her palm. He arches towards her, can't help but seek her touch.
"You missed our appointment, bard. I've half a mind to geld you, finally."
He sees the tiniest flicker of insecurity in the corners of her eyes, and his expression softens.
"I'm sorry, skua. I got caught up in reading those vernal equinox journals in the library and my lute needed restringing before the party tomorrow and-mmph!"
She silences him with a gentle finger laid across his lips.
"I know. It's alright. I know you, you infernal popinjay."
She smiles, in a very particular way, and he licks his lips.
She kisses him slowly, pulls the knife from the door as he brings his hands up to skim over her shoulders. Drags the very tip down over the shell buttons at his sternum as he lays his hands at his sides in surrender.
It's languid.
Soft and burning.
But as she raises the knife to his shirt again, a wicked edge to bared teeth, he twists his fingers, flicks his wrist...
And pulls the blade out to the side.
He watches in awe as his force of nature smiles. Drops her hands gently to her sides, and turns her back to him.
He'll never get over this.
Her trust, bestowed in a ringed songbird.
He raises the dagger, and cuts the ribbon in her hair. He sets it on her dresser, and kisses her shoulder
So I'm writing a realistic (ish) bittersweet Eddie-centric fic set a few years after the events of season 4. Let me know if you want to be tagged when it's posted!
Thinking particularly of @ubernoona and @theamazingbard here
