The first concert of Corroded Coffin's that Steve goes to, Eddie's a nervous wreck beforehand.
His hands are sweaty and he's wringing them as he paces outside after they get their equipment inside.
Jeff takes one look at him and sighs.
He knows how Eddie feels about Steve and he knows how important it is that they make a good impression on him. He might not understand the whole Steve thing, but he gets having a crush on someone unattainable.
Well-
When Eddie first told him about it, he thought it was just an unattainable little crush. Just something that happened because they got close after the earthquake. Steve was a new friend, someone Eddie hadn't known long enough to get used to, and he's - Jeff's not going to pretend he isn't attractive.
So he understood it, kind of. And the thought that the crush would fade once Eddie knew him for longer.
But Steve hanging around them, making an effort to get to know Jeff and Grant and Gareth, being nice to Jeff's mom- that had Jeff pausing and taking another look at the situation.
Because Steve didn't have to do any of that. He could hang out with Eddie, maybe the one freak he could tolerate, and call it a day.
But he was trying, and he was being better than he was in high school. Which, if anyone asks, Jeff would say he actually wasn't all that bad in high school compared to the others.
So Jeff looked a little more closely.
And saw the way Steve looks at Eddie, his eyes tracking him as he crosses the room. He saw the way Steve laughed at all of Eddie's jokes, even the ones he didn't understand. He saw the way Steve was always looking for an excuse to touch Eddie, putting a hand on his arm, putting a hand on his back, his arm around him, hugging him at the end of the night and the hugs lasting longer than any hug Jeff's ever had with a buddy.
He saw that and saw that this isn't a passing fancy for Eddie. He saw the way Eddie leaned into Steve unconsciously, the way he always looks for him first when entering a room, the way he lights up when he sees him. He saw the way Eddie seemed to like him more and more, and subsequently talk about him more and more, the more he got to know him.
So it wasn't just a crush.
And it wasn't unrequited like Eddie thought.
But now Jeff is watching him pace a hole in the ground and he can't exactly tell Eddie that he's 99% sure that Steve feels the same because 1. he wouldn't believe him and 2. that 1% of doubt is enough to deter him. This isn't something he can be wrong about. Even if feels mostly sure, he wouldn't ever say that he should go for it when it could turn ugly for him. This isn't a crush on some girl where the worst that could happen is that she says no.
So, for now, Jeff watches.
And Jeff hopes.
He hopes that they'll be able to see it for themselves. That Eddie will catch the way Steve looks at him and realize that it's the same way he looks at Steve.
He hopes that Steve will make a move, put those rumors of his suaveness to good use and woo Eddie.
He heads inside when he sees Gareth talking to Eddie, trying to calm him down.
He sees Steve and Robin, talking at a table near the front of the venue, and he makes a beeline for them.
"Jeff!" Steve says, smiling at him when he sees him coming over. He waves at both of them.
"Hey, can I talk to you for a sec?" he asks and when Steve furrows his brow and nods, he leads him away from Robin.
"What's going on?" Steve asks, looking worried.
He says, "Just, Eddie's really nervous about performing in front of you tonight. So, like, even if we suck or you don't like this kind of music, can you not say you didn't like it? Not that I think you'd be mean about it, but like-"
Steve looks at him confused. "I've listened to your tapes before. I like your music. I wouldn't- okay, I mean I'd still be here even if I didn't like it, but I do like it. Wait- why's Eddie nervous?" he asks. And Jeff hadn't planned on Steve asking that. Shit.
He says, "Because you're his coolest friend and he doesn't want to screw up in front of you."
Steve's expression softens. "I'm not- you know what? Okay. If it makes you feel better, I won't say I didn't like it."
"Okay," Jeff says, nodding, relieved. "And don't, like, mention I said anything."
"'Course," Steve says with a smile. "You're a good friend, Jeff."
Jeff grins at him and walks him back to his table. That 1% is looking awfully less and less with every conversation Jeff has with Steve.
The manager waves him over and tells them they can start setting up on stage, so he goes to get the others.
-
The show is good, once Eddie snaps out of his nerves.
It's actually impressive, seeing him with shaky hands as they get ready to start and then seeing him turn it on seamlessly like he was never nervous in the first place.
They play and Jeff watches the way Eddie keeps looking at Steve, keeps looking to make sure he looks like he's enjoying himself.
And Jeff sees Steve smiling the entire time, singing along to the cover songs they do and also to one of their original songs.
At the end of the night, after they get their stuff back in their van, he sees Eddie and Steve talking, standing close, one of Steve's hands playing with the hem of Eddie's shirt.
And he knows they'll get there eventually, even without his help.
They'll find their way to each other and see what Jeff sees.
He's sure of it.
As he gets in the driver's seat and looks over at Grant, he can only hope he'll get that too one day.
@eddiemonth day 7: warm | wc: 548 | G | cw: sleepy fluff
Eddie Munson was an absolute riot of kinetic energy most of the time. He got antsy easily, his mind rarely quiet unless made quiet by the lull of a late night toke, but any other time, he had to be doing something. Sitting was only tolerable if his hands were moving or his knee jumping.
Currently, though, he was perfectly still, somehow stretched out and curled up at the same time under his and Steve's sheets - a Sunday morning still made lazy in the mid-early hours because he was passed out. Steve knew company would be over that afternoon to continue their campaign under Eddie's guidance, but for now, Steve soaked up the stillness and basked in the sights and sounds of a sleeping Eddie Munson, konked out to this world but probably exploring some other in his dreams. He always said he had vivid dreams in which he drew inspiration for the campaigns he crafted. It had taken several years for the Upside Down to loosen its iron grip on Eddie's unconscious mind, but the dreams came less frequently these days. He looked unsullied by its influence this morning, thankfully.
But Eddie Munson was still a riot in his sleep. Steve had called him a rotisserie chicken because of how much he moved. The only cure was being tangled together or being in a deep sleep. Eddie had been too tired last night to braid his wet curls, so they now lay bushed around him, scattered in a thicket across his and Steve's respective pillows, covering the half of his face not smooshed into a pillow and no doubt wrapped around his neck. Steve could only see his nose peaking out and a bit of his forehead as he watched with such soul-wrenching fondness the strands fluttered to and fro with each breath Eddie took.
He looked so ridiculous, so peaceful and squeezable and gorgeous with the comforter hiked up to his ears and tucked in like a curly-headed sleep taquito.
And he was so warm. A toasty little sleep taquito. The guy ran cold most of the time, but put Eddie in some blankets, and he became a burning coal in no time, especially with Steve's body heat included in the mix.
Steve's hand rested at home on Eddie's bare waist under the covers, and when Eddie started to stir, he squeezed lightly, coaxing a sleep-thickened sound from Eddie.
"Mornin'."
All Steve got in response was a choppy groan that would've sounded like "mornin'" as well, had Eddie moved his mouth. Steve chuckled, and Eddie's fingers appeared from the bunched-up covers and pushed his curls from his face.
He was so beautiful, it made Steve's chest hurt. Skin and lips full, a sleep crease across his cheek, eyes squinty until they fully fell on Steve, making butterflies erupt in his stomach. He couldn't stand it.
Eddie yelped when Steve pulled the covers from Eddie's grasp and dove in, burying his face in Eddie's neck.
"God, you're so warm," he groaned out, completely engulfing Eddie's body with his own. "And you smell so good."
"It's just body wash," he grinned sleepily, carding his fingers through Steve's own bed head.
"It's just you," he kissed into his skin. Eddie melted into the sheets and his hold. "S'just you."
a tiny thing for @eddiemonth day 06: crush & sincere
“I will crush you beneath my heel like vermin.”
Like thunder, the evil wizard’s voice rolls over the battlefield, leaving fear in the heart of everyone who’s alive enough to hear it and rattling the bones of those who aren’t.
Men and women alike, soldiers and knights and able bodied young men, watch with bated breath as Sir Steven, the bravest of them all, rises to his feet again beside the black-clad wizard, his grip on his trusty sword never wavering as he wipes blood and sweat from his face.
There he stands, heroic as ever, meeting the evil wizard’s eyes with a heated glare of his own.
“Try,” he says, standing his ground as his voice, too, is carried over the battlefield. Carried, indeed, for the wind blows in his favour, the sun shines only for him, and the ground beneath his feet holds him up like a trusted friend, a most beloved brother.
Sir Steven reaches towards his neck, feeling the band of leather against overheated skin, a charm resting just above his heart — right where it belongs.
The wizard doesn’t have what he has.
***
A soft chuckle abruptly changes the scenery and rips Eddie into a different world once more; sun glazed battlefields replaced with the darkness of his room, hard soil replaced with the softness of his bed, and a knight turns into a beautiful boy wearing his favourite shirt.
“A magic used guitar pick necklace? Is that what the evil wizard king doesn’t have?”
Steve’s eyes are closed but the smile on his lips shines bright, and Eddie can’t even be mad about the interruption. He reaches out a hand and trails his fingers through Steve’s hair, gently combing back the locks sticking to his sweaty forehead. The smile dims a little, turning into something more genuine.
“I can’t believe you interrupted me at the best part there, Stevie. I was going to make a heroic entrance as a dragon shifter, called to the knight simply by touching the charm.” He keeps up his slow and gentle caresses, his hands trialing down to Steve’s cheeks and neck, where Eddie’s necklace clings to overheated skin indeed. “It means a lot, you know, a charm like that.”
Steve hums, moving closer to Eddie, seeking his warmth and his touch alike, and Eddie can’t possibly refuse him.
“It could save the world, you mean?”
“Hmm. The world. A young boy’s heart. And everything in between.”
Steve blindly reaches for Eddie’s hand and brushes a kiss to his knuckles, and another for good measure.
There’s a weight to their words that’s not meant for moments like this, but it hangs in the air nonetheless, and Eddie breathes it in. The weight of a past survived and a future acknowledging that. Both of them shared like this moment. A promise.
“So what happens next? With Sir Steven and the evil wizard, and with Eddie the dragon shifter. That’s very fitting, by the way, you little hoarder,” Steve laughs, still keeping his eyes closed, and Eddie can’t help but join in, overwhelmed with affection for this boy.
This sunshine boy who’s having a bad day and a fever but still manages to be the most radiant thing in the world. This wonderful boy who asked Eddie to stay and tell him a story until he falls asleep.
“Don’t feel good? Do you wanna stay in bed, baby?”
“Yeah. Can you stay?”
“Of course. Cuddles?”
“Could you maybe… Could you tell me a story?
“I’ll tell you any story you want, sunshine.”
This incredible, insufferable boy who’s too nosy and too sassy for his own good, interrupting Eddie here and there to ask questions or give a snarky little comment that’s dripping with fondness whether he’ll admit it or not.
This boy. His boy. With the smile and the wild bed head and the insistent tug on Eddie’s hand to tell him what happens next.
And so Eddie continues his story about the evil wizard being defeated and the world celebrating the heroics of the knight and his dragon and their unlikely band of friends. If he adds a little Lord of the Rings imagery here and there, Steve won’t know about it anyway.
Before he reaches the end, Steve’s hand goes slack where it’s tangled with Eddie’s, and his breath evens out, the smile never quite fading from his lips. Eddie keeps talking, though his voice is hushed now and thick with a smile of his own now.
He loves him. God, he loves him so, so much, he can barely stand it.
“Good night, Stevie,” he whispers even though it’s barely three in the afternoon. He gets up and out of bed, tucking the blanket around Steve’s sleeping form and brushing one more kiss to his hair before sneaking out of the room on slow, quiet steps.
Outside, Wayne is reading a book on the porch, a cigarette in his hand. Eddie snatches one from the pack and leans over his old man to brush a kiss to his hair, too, feeling far too full of affection right now and needing to let it out. There is a sincerity inside him that needs to be shared.
Wayne lets out a gruff kind of hum, but Eddie isn’t so easily fooled, smiling as he lights his cig.
“How’s your boy?” Wayne asks.
“Asleep for now.”
“Good.” There’s a moment of silence between them and Eddie closes his eyes against the afternoon sun for a moment, drawn back to his story. “You let me know if he needs anything.”
“Of course. Thanks, Wayne.”
“Sure. Just wouldn’t wanna be crushed like vermin, is all.”
The laugh bubbles out of Eddie before he can help it, sincerity replaced by something lighter, something manageable for now as he lets his uncle bully him for telling ridiculous stories to the boy he loves so endlessly.
there’s 10 different playlists with 100 unique artists spanning multiple decades and genres, all songs i think eddie would enjoy or appreciate—let me know your results in the tags!!
note: this one is in Wayne's POV and it's a little different than how I usually write, but it means the absolute world to me, so I hope you all enjoy it!
read on ao3 | link to my ao3 Eddie Month series
Wayne Munson remembers the exact moment he found out he was going to be an uncle.
It was a frigid January morning in Hawkins. The heater in the Munsons’ trailer had stopped working a week before, and Wayne had been too busy working days and taking night classes at the junior college in the next town over to fix it.
His mama had said she would call Al to come help, but Wayne knew the odds of him stopping by were slim to numb. He had better things to do than check in on his mother and younger brother. Things like keeping the Hawkins police department busy with his petty crime schemes and treating his latest girlfriend with little to no respect. A packed schedule in Al’s eyes.
So, when Wayne stepped out of the trailer that January morning, bundled in his worn winter coat, he nearly tripped and fell on his ass when he spotted Al on the hood of his car, leisurely smoking a cigarette.
“Evelyn is pregnant,” Al said between puffs of smoke. “She’s keeping it. M’gonna be a pa.”
A range of emotions washed over Wayne at that moment. Anxiety for Al and Evelyn and their unborn child. Al wasn’t exactly father material, and it’s not like they had a dad to learn from. Happiness for their family and the joy a new baby would bring the Munson’s. Worry, mainly for Evelyn and the baby, but also for Al and how something like this was going to affect the small gains he’d made that year.
But mostly, and Wayne would never tell anyone this, he felt jealous.
Wayne was the one who babysat the neighbor kids when they were younger to make a quick buck while Al schemed. Wayne was the one who always waved to babies in the grocery store line. The one who always snuck his coworkers’ kids candy at the annual Fourth of July BBQs. And remembered to send well wishes home on their birthdays.
Wayne was the one who loved kids. Who wanted kids. But would never, ever get to have kids for reasons he was too ashamed to admit most days.
Unlike Al, who would have let the jealousy fester into something nasty, Wayne choked it all down and gave in to the happier emotions. Promising to be there for Al and Evelyn and his new nephew.
A promise he kept for all nine months of Evelyn’s pregnancy (going on midnight craving runs when Evelyn moved into the Munson trailer after getting kicked out of her own house and then nervously pacing the maternity ward on Halloween night when she finally went into active labor after three false alarms). He kept his promise for the entire first year of Eddie’s life. Helping with feedings and changings. And anything else he could do.
Wayne was the one to drive Evelyn and Eddie to the hospital the first time he caught a cold and wouldn’t stop coughing. He was there the first time Evelyn fed him mushy baby food that Eddie ended up spitting up all over the place. He saw Eddie roll over for the first time and crawl. He was even there for Eddie’s first nonsensical word — a bastard version of “mama” that sent Evelyn into hysterics and had Al rolling his eyes.
Wayne was ready to be there for all of Eddie’s first, but then fate reared its ugly, no-good, wicked head, and suddenly, Wayne was being shipped off to boot camp to fight in a war he spent the last three years protesting against.
But his birthday was called, and Wayne had no choice but to suit up and fight.
Well, no, that’s not true.
There was one way to get out of the draft.
But the thought of admitting to having homosexual tendencies was more terrifying than dying overseas. So, he kept his mouth shut and went and did his time.
Five years to be exact.
Five grueling, traumatic, waste of his youth years.
Most importantly, five years without his nephew.
Eddie was six, almost seven years old, when Wayne finally made it back home to Hawkins. Unruly curls, just like Wayne once had before the military got involved. Big brown eyes that, despite only being 7, he knew how to use to get him out of trouble. And a brilliant, imaginative mind that captivated Wayne the moment he scooped Eddie into his arms after coming home and Eddie asked, “Ma, who is this bald guy? And why is he trying to squeeze the poop out of me?”
Wayne knew he’d never get those five years back, but he promised himself to try and make up for them every chance he got. And so “Waynesdays” was born.
Every third Wednesday of the month, Wayne would spend with Eddie. Sometimes, he’d show up at Evelyn and Al’s trailer early in the morning to pick Eddie up before he went off to school. With Evelyn’s permission, Eddie would ditch and they’d spend the day uncle-nephew bonding. Other times, Wayne would be waiting outside the gates of Eddie’s school, ready to whisk him away as soon as the dismissal bell rang.
(“Uncle Wayne, Uncle Wayne,” Eddie would shout, running into Wayne’s arm with enough force to send them toppling into the grass. The falls weren’t great for Wayne’s war-torn body, but he never complained. Nothing a frozen bag of peas and a cigarette couldn’t fix the next morning.)
Whatever the case, the third Wednesday of every month was dedicated to them.
The first few years, it was simple things. Wayne would take Eddie out for ice cream before stopping at the library. They’d spend hours walking up and down the aisles. Wayne telling Eddie stories that rivaled the books on the shelves. They’d go antiquating — a hobby Wayne inherited from his own mother that Eddie seemingly inherited when he took an interest in Garfield merchandise.
(“He’s just so fat, Uncle Wayne!” Eddie laughed, squeezing the plush belly of a Garfield stuffed animal. “I want to be fat like him one day! Don’t you?”)
As Eddie got older, their adventures stretched beyond the Hawkins city limits. Wayne took him to Indianapolis at least twice a year. Introduced him to music. Took him to see movies at the fancy cineplex in the city that sold a tub of popcorn bigger than Eddie’s head. He even promised to take Eddie to the colorful bar they always passed as soon as he turned 21.
(“But that’s such a long time away,” Eddie had whined, grubby fingers pressed into the glass of the window as he peered inside. “Are you sure I can’t go in there now? They have an arcade machine! Those are for kids!”)
In the summers, Waynesday because Waynesweek.
When Eddie was younger, they spent the week camping. Two sleeping bags side by side in a tent. They’d trade imaginative stories around a campfire and roast marshmallows until they were burnt to a crisp. The trips were hard on Wayne at first — bringing back memories of the war. But seeing Eddie smile and roll around in mud without a care in the world was worth every sleepless night.
(“If I catch the frog, can I bring it home?” he shouted one summer, arms already elbow-deep in the swampy puddle. “I promise to take care of it!”
“M’sure you would, boy,” Wayne said, cigarette between his lips. “But your ma would kill me if I let ya bring a frog into r’home. You know she’s afraid of ‘em.”)
Eventually, Eddie grew out of camping, and then their summer weeks were spent lounging in the trailer. They’d go days without leaving, living off of the groceries they stocked up on on the first day of Waynesweek. The couch always had a permanent butt dent after those weeks, but Wayne loved them all the same. Especially the ones that were spent hunched over board games and later hunched over scribbled-out notes and too many-sided die as Eddie explained some new, complex game to him.
(“Okay, Uncle Wayne, so now that you made it to the fortress wall, you have to roll this one,” he said, passing Wayne a hexagon-looking dice. “And then whatever you get, we multiply it by the number here, and then if it’s high enough, you get to come inside.”
“Now how come you can do multiplication in this game, but your ma says you got a bad grade on your last math test?” Wayne asked, brows raised as he rattled the die in his hands.
“‘Cause school math is boring!” Eddie said, rolling those big brown eyes of his. “There’s no dragons in Ms. Tabbot’s class. Just boring old numbers!”)
Waynesday was a tradition Wayne held so near and dear to his heart that even after Evelyn unexpectedly passed away, Al landed himself permanently behind and Eddie ended up moving into Wayne’s trailer, he still kept up.
Sure, things got a bit more complicated between them now that they saw each other every day, multiple times a day, with no breaks. They sure got on each other nerves a bit more.
(“Dammit, Eds,” Wayne cursed, tripping over a pair of Eddie’s boots thrown haphazardly in the middle of the hallway. “What’d I say about leavin’ these things lyin’ ‘round. They’ve got a home, put’m there.”
“Fine,” Eddie groaned, coming out of his bedroom to pick up the shoes. “But then stop leaving your half-drank coffee cups in the bathroom! Why are you even taking it in there?”)
And they fought, like most children do with the authority figures in their lives.
(“That’s the second time Hop has let you off with a warning,” Wayne tsked, stalking behind Eddie as they climbed up the few steps to the trailer. “Neither of us are gonna be too nice if it happens again.”
“You make it sound like I was stealing. I ditched one class. It’s no big deal.”
“Those grades of yours say otherwise.”
Eddie growled, rolling his eyes as he tore through the kitchen cabinets, looking for a snack. “This again? My grades are fine, Wayne. Okay. Stop worrying!”)
Sure, things were tough at times, but they also learned some important things about each, too. Things neither one of them thought they’d ever share in common with someone in Hawkins, Indiana.
(“Where ya going, boy?” Wayne asked one night a few years ago when he walked into the trailer to find Eddie shoving random things into a duffle bag. The same duffle bag that Wayne had carefully placed in the backseat of the truck all those years ago when he picked up Eddie for the final time.
“M’leaving,” Eddie said through gritted teeth. “And don’t even try to stop me, Wayne. Trust me, you’re not going to want me anymore.”
A million and one things ran through Wayne’s head in that moment. Had Hopper caught Eddie ditching school again? Had he got his hands on that letter from Al ,Wayne had been hiding in the junk drawer? Was Eddie in some kind of trouble? Bigger trouble than ditching school and smoking pot at the quarry?”
“Boy, what are you talkin’ about?” Wayne asked, stalking over to where Eddie was currently shoving tape after tape into the duffle bag. “M’always gonna want ya ‘round.”
Eddie scoffed and kept his eyes trained on the tapes. It was easy for Wayne to see that Eddie was barely holding it together. The tapes shook in his hands and his growing hair did little to shield his red-rimmed eyes.
“Eddie,” Wayne sighed, slowly lowering himself to the ground despite the protests of his body. “Come on, talk to me. Whatever it is, I’ll help you.”
“You—you can’t. Not with this,” Eddie said, violently shaking his head. And then, in a moment of bravery, Eddie lifted his head and looked Wayne square in the eyes and said, “I’m gay, Wayne. Okay? That’s why m’leaving. And don’t even—“
Wayne cut Eddie off before he could finish whatever insult or wrong assumption was sure to follow. He pulled Eddie into his arms, tucked the boy’s head into the crook of his neck and held him tight. The same way he did all those years ago when he had to be the one to tell the boy that his ma had passed. And Eddie cried. Then and now. Big, fat, hot tears that soaked Wayne’s shirt.
“Eds, boy, look at me,” Wayne said later when Eddie’s sobs had subsided into a steady stream of silent tears. “You ain’t going nowhere, okay? And you ain’t alone either. I know what you’re goin’ through. M’like you, too.”
“Y-you, you’re gay?”
“Yeah,” Wayne said after a painfully long moment. It was a truth he had never let himself think too much about. But now, sitting in the presence of his nephew, who was more like him than he originally thought. Well, now, Wayne thought it was time to accept that part of him. Especially if it would help his nephew. “Yeah, boy. M’gay.”)
So, yeah, living with Eddie full-time had its ups and downs. But no argument, even the ones that lasted days because they were both too stubborn to apologize, was going to stop them from celebrating Waynesday every third Wednesday of the month. Nor was Eddie’s newly minted twenty-year-old selfless heart that worried way too much about Wayne. But he can’t really fault the boy for that.
(“Wayne,” Eddie had sighed just last month. “We really don’t have to keep doing this. You should be able to rest on your one real day off of the month.”
“Nonsense boy,” Wayne said, shooing Eddie off with the back of his hand. “Only thing I want to do on my day off s’spend time with you. Unless you’re too busy for your old uncle now.”
Eddie snorted, shaking his head. “You know I always have time for you.”
“Good.” Wayne smiled. “Then get that boney ass of yours over here and let’s watch that movie you picked up before I get charged another late fee.”)
Nothing had ever come in the way of their Waynesday tradition before, and Wayne sure as hell wasn’t going to let something break the tradition now.
“Hey, boy,” Wayne says, settling himself on the worn visitor chair in Eddie’s hospital room. “S’the 16th. Know what that means, right?” He pauses and waits for Eddie’s answer, which he knows isn’t coming. It’s been almost a month since he last heard Eddie speak, twenty days since he stumbled into Hawkins Memorial to find his nephew hooked up to machine after machine. But Wayne’s not giving up hope. Not even close. He’ll be sitting here ’til the cows come home.
“Yep,” he says eventually, patting Eddie’s IV-covered hand. “It’s Waynesday again. I’ll tell you what, time sure is gettin’ faster and m’getting older.”
The steady, rhythmic beats of the machines keeping Eddie alive echo off the walls of the too-white room. Wayne listens to them for a moment, a weird sort of peace washing over him. S’long as they’re beeping, my boy’s still here, he thinks.
Sighing, he reaches into the small backpack at his feet. The one he’s been carrying back and forth from the hospital when Eddie’s friends come to take the morning shift. He pulls out a blanket, shaking it out before draping it over his own body. And then he pulls out a worn paperback book.
“Now, I know it’s been a while since we had one of those readin’ days you loved so much, but I thought maybe we could bring’m back,” he says, carefully opening the pages of the book. His hand traces down the first page, past the sticky finger stain of Eddie’s youth. “You best be patient with me, Eds. Y’know these names always trip me up. But m’gonna give it my best, okay?”
Wayne pauses again, waiting for a response he knows he’s not going to get. And then he takes a deep breath and brings the book closer to his face. “In a hole in the ground there lives a h-hobbit.”
Eventually, the words start to blur together. Sentences turning into one long, giant word. And then, soon after, the letters start to blur too, until Wayne’s eyes are drooping and the book falls from his shaking hands into his awaiting lap.
It’s not long after that Wayne’s soft snores fall into a steady rhythm with the beeping of Eddie’s machine.
Beep. Snore. Beep. Snore. Beep. Snore.
And so it goes for several hours until—
Beep, beep, beepbeepbeepbeep.
Wayne shoots out of the chair, wobbly feet struggling to find their footing as he turns to the bed. Eddie’s lying there, like he always is, except this time, his big brown eyes stare back at him. Full of life and love and fear as he reaches a weak, shaky hand up to claw at the tube shoved down his throat.
He doesn’t remember calling for the nurse, but they rush into the room in an instant. Circling Eddie’s bed like an animal stalking its prey. Its minutes of chaos. Nurses running to fetch doctors. Machines beeping erratically. Alarms blaring. Orders being shouted left and right.
Someone is crying, Wayne thinks, as his ears cut through the cacophony of noise when he’s pushed into the hallway. Oh it’s me, he realizes as he reaches a hand up to his tearstained cheeks.
And then, just as quickly as it started, the chaos dies down and Wayne is let back into the room. Just Wayne and Eddie. Alone. Alive. Together.
He doesn’t wait a moment longer and wedges himself onto the small hospital bed next to Eddie, wrapping his arms around his frail nephew.
“D-d-did I miss it?” Eddie stutters out.
With a gruff laugh and a tearful glance at the watch on his wrist, Wayne turns to Eddie and smiles. “No, son, you made it just in time.” He twists his arm, showing Eddie the watch. The big hand points almost completely at the 12. The smaller hand settled perfectly over the 58th tick.
“Our streak continues,” Eddie whispers before his eyes flutter shut, and his body falls into its first machineless slumber in twenty days.
T (language) 2.2k early 2000's no upside down AU dad!steve, new neighbor!eddie. Title from REO Speedwagon, Cant Fight This Feeling.
Steve had the orange and purple string lights finally untangled as he looked over to Stella getting the tombstones out of the storage box. She was thirteen and still humored her dad with putting up the Halloween decorations. She had the same light brown eyes as him her hair a tinge of auburn in the sunlight- Steve made a point to try and bottle up these moments. He knew they wouldn’t last forever.
“Dad! Did you remember to get two bags of the batting for the cobwebs?” Her voice breaking him out of his maudlin moment.
“Psh- did I? The cul-de-sac Halloween decoration champion for five years running remember the cobwebs? Of course kiddo. This isn’t a game for me.” Steve responded with his hands on his hips.
Another voice broke between them with a loud whistle, “Wow, five years running? What does that entail?”
It belonged to a long haired striking man in ripped black jeans and a red checkered flannel. His face expressive from overhearing Steve’s quip as he walked his scrappy looking black dog.
Stella laughed brightly, “He gets nothing but bragging rights against the damn Van Der Waals.”
Steve turned on his teen daughter, “Stel, language!”
The guy laughed, “Well screw the Van Der- whoevers, why do we hate them?”
Stella stood next to Steve hands on her hips in a mirror image of her father, “Who are you?”
His dog woofed playfully and wagged it’s tail, “Oh, I moved in two houses down, I’m Eddie and this is Gibson.”
Stella relaxed her arms down, “Can I pet him?”
“Sure he’s friendly.” Eddie responded.
Steve walked along with his daughter as she approached them, “I’m Steve, and this is my daughter Stella. Welcome to the neighborhood.”
Closer up and the man looked familiar.
He tilted his chin up in greeting to Steve, “Harrington?” He asked.
Steve gave him an assessing gaze he couldn’t forget those dimples, “No shit, Munson?”
When he had fallen from social graces in high school he and the trailer park pot dealer had formed a quasi-friendship. It lined up when he started his now inseparable friendship with Robin.
Eddie beamed at him, “Yeah, back in Hawkins, can you believe it?”
Steve shook his head and met this ghost from his past’s grin with his own answering one.
“You know my dad?” Stella asked.
“Yeah, from the glory days or whatever. Why?” He replied.
“Nothing, just my dad’s a nerd.” She snorted out implying Eddie wasn’t.
“Hey! You’re spending too much time with your aunt Robin.” Steve said indignantly.
Eddie threw his head back and laughed.
Steve felt caught off guard.
Guess that crush was just laying dormant, he thought quickly and shook off.
“So why do we hate the Van Der- who’s-it’s?” Eddie asked with a gleam in his eye.
“They insinuated we were going to hell since dad knocked someone up with me out of wedlock.” Stella said like it was a common thing to share, “And their kids are homeschooled weirdos.”
Steve pushed up his glasses into his still pretty magnificent hair and scrubbed a hand over his face while mumbling, “I’m already in hell.”
Eddie was holding back his laughter, “Fuck them, now you have to kick their asses, at what? Halloween decorations?”
Steve nodded.
“And Christmas, in the summer lawn care and gardening, it’s never ending.” Stella huffed out as she scratched Gibson’s floppy ears.
“Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help in this rivalry, since we’re neighbors now.” Eddie winked at Steve.
Steve felt a flush crawl over his cheeks, oh no.
His eyes darted to Stella staring at him and looking back to Eddie as a smirk broke across her devious little face.
“Yeah, for sure, see ya around Eddie.” He rasped out as Eddie and Gibson continued their walk. He couldn’t help but watch him leave. He'd always been a little infatuated with Eddie. His charisma was palpable. How could you not get wrapped up in it?
Stella stood up and turned to him, “How do you know Eddie?”
“High School.” He said leaving her hanging.
He shoved the cottony cobwebs into her hands.
“So Robin and Dustin know him too?”
Steve could feel her scheming, “Stop.”
“I’m not doing anything, just curious, dad.” She said innocently.
Steve went back to arranging the lights perfectly on the bushes. They lived in a nice part of town a small but decent ranch, nowhere near the way Steve had grown up, but comfortable.
Stella pretended to drop the subject as she worked on getting the batting as thin and wispy as possible for a realistic looking cobweb covering the bushes and side of their entryway. She busied herself arranging the tombstones as Steve got the ghosts hanging from the trees.
She couldn’t wait to bring the new neighbor up to her aunt at their next dinner.
•
Halloween came up quick. Robin was well aware of Steve’s new neighbor crush with details filled in by Stella. Hell, she was aware of his Eddie sized crush back in high school. Even Dustin had made a comment that he was pretty sure there was a missed opportunity there between Steve and Eddie from another lifetime.
He and Robin had a standing Halloween movie marathon tradition.
“Dingus, we putting a scary movie on or what? I already have American Psycho all set to play.” Robin asked as she stove popped popcorn.
“Yeah, yeah, just checking my phone, Stel is staying at a friend’s tonight and I just wanna make sure she’s good.”
The doorbell rang.
“Trick or treaters. It’s getting a little late.” Robin commented as Steve went to grab the door.
He opened it with a bowl of candies.
Eddie on the other side with growler pumpkin beer in his hands, “Trick or treat Stevie.”
Steve grinned, “Kinda reverse though? Since you brought treats.”
“Didn’t wanna show up empty handed, you free?” He asked only looking a little wide-eyed and apprehensive.
Robin came up behind Steve, “Eddie! Heard you moved in, good to see you- oh, shoot.” She pulled out her Nokia brick of a cellphone in an over-dramatic manner.
“Damn, sorry Dingus, Vick’s car isn’t starting, I gotta pick her up from the winery. Hey Eddie you free for some scary movies? Steve has American Psycho queued up and he’s too chicken to watch it alone.”
Eddie had come into the entryway.
“Uh, I mean, I’m free…but is that, okay with you?” He addressed Steve for the last part.
Steve stood for a beat realizing he may have been set up.
“Yeah, if Rob’s gotta go that’s fine. I’ve got homemade pizza in the oven.” Steve said as he narrowed his eyes at Robin.
She shoved the popcorn into his arms perched atop the bowl of candies and kissed his cheek as she grabbed her coat, “Bye guys, good seeing you Eddie, I’m sure we’ll cross paths again soon!” Robin shifted Eddie further inside as she slid out the door in a rush.
Steve looked to Eddie and shrugged, “We can pick another movie that one was Rob’s choice anyway.” He felt a bit nervous being alone with Eddie.
He had seen him in the past few weeks and had snatched information on his life. He’d run into him walking Gibson and found out he collects cassette tapes from the dollar bins at record stores and goodwill. On one occasion he stood outside and chatted with Wayne about baseball stats while Eddie made joking comments about sports and balls.
He knew now that Eddie had moved back to be closer to Wayne but also had started working at the new brewery owned by his old supplier Reefer Rick, he was experimenting with CBD infused brews that Eddie was spearheading the endeavor as brew master on those.
“I like horror, but I’m good switching it up to something else, it smells delicious in here, you sure this is cool?” Eddie asked again.
Steve threw a piece of popcorn that landed in Eddie’s hair as he set down the treats in his arms on the coffee table, “Yes, I’d rather not be ditched home alone on Halloween to eat an entire pizza by myself, come in Eddie. Take off your shoes and chill.” Steve took the jug of beer from Eddie’s hands and lead him to the kitchen.
“This from Rick’s brewery?” He asked as he grabbed a couple of glasses.
“Yeah, but new so we’re kinda guinea pigs. I think I’ve got it perfected though.” He said as he leaned against the kitchen island.
He looked good dressed down.
He had on a black crewneck sweatshirt with ghostface on it and a pair of dark wash jeans that fit him perfectly. His socks were adorably mismatched. Something he had done often in high school- Steve had noticed it back then too.
He always looked good is what Steve had become aware of.
“Still can’t match your socks, Munson?” Steve inquired as he poured them the caramel colored ale.
Eddie let out a startled laugh, “You remember that? Honestly who has the time, and I think it’s quirky. Commitment made I am an unmatched socks kinda person.”
Of course I remember I pointed it out right after you showed me what shotgunning was, he thought to himself.
He couldn’t say it aloud. He wondered if Eddie was thinking it too.
He held up his glass, “Cheers?”
“Hell yeah Harrington. Happy Halloween.” Eddie said as he clinked his own glass to Steve’s and took a sip.
His eyes followed Steve’s movements and the way his throat looked swallowing down his newest brew.
Steve let the flavor unfold on his palate, “It’s really good, Eddie.”
“Don’t sound so surprised.” The other man teased.
The oven timer chimed as Steve pulled out the pizza. He was fully aware now that he was in his Robin relaxation mode outfit which translated to his softest sweatpants and a tee shirt from Vickie’s job that cheesily said ‘Wine o’clock’ with rhinestones. He resolutely ignored the feeling telling him to go change. Robin called it his middle-aged mom wear. Which rude, he was thirty-three not middle-aged.
“Tell me about the toppings.” Eddie said as Steve almost choked on another drink of beer.
He recovered quickly, “We decided on spicy pepperoni, mushroom, and green pepper. Hope that’s alright.”
“Hell yeah, can’t remember the last home cooked food I had that wasn’t like, just me whipping up some eggs. That’s a lie Wayne and I do Sunday dinner and he always makes sure I get some veggies in me.” Eddie added.
Steve laughed, “Well I guess someone’s gotta look after you.”
He sliced into the still steaming pizza the cheese melting in strings as he plated them up. They got to talking about Steve’s school counselor job and how it felt having to go back to Hawkins High for work now. The conversation an easy push and pull of information and silly innuendos movie long forgotten as they refilled their beer glasses.
“You know I had such a crush on you then.” Eddie said pink cheeked and smiling, “I even remember the songs you liked when we’d smoke up together. It always surprised me how many metal ones you were into.”
Steve chuckled, “So I wasn’t imagining it back then? I always wondered what you would’ve done had I leaned forward and kissed you when you showed me how to shotgun.” His lips loose but not from the alcohol, he wasn’t drunk, not even tipsy really- just emboldened by Eddie’s own confession.
Eddie shyly pulled his hair in front of his face and giggled out a nervous laugh. He fished something out of his back pocket, “When we talked the other day you said you still had a tape deck, right?”
Steve did it came with his stereo set up he nodded in response as Eddie slid a mixtape into his hand.
Steve looked it over, “Are these?”
“The songs you liked back then? Yeah.” Eddie gave him another shy look.
Steve’s fingertips tingled wanting to touch- it was maybe the single most romantic thing anyone had ever done for him. He set the tape down and moved closer to Eddie.
“You know, I have to be honest, Stella stopped by a few days ago with Robin-“ Eddie started nervously as he rubbed the back of his neck.
He cut him off, “They orchestrated this? Of course they did. Robin knew I was stupid over you my entire junior and senior year.” Steve muttered.
Eddie made a choked off sound, “You were?”
“I just said I thought about kissing you when we smoked together.” Steve replied.
Eddie reached a hand up and rested it on Steve’s waist, “What about now?”
Steve leaned in the rest of the way and closed the distance his lips pressing against Eddie’s and his tongue coaxing into the metalhead’s mouth tasting like pumpkin beer and potential.
When they broke apart Eddie let out a content sound that burrowed between Steve’s ribs and planted in his chest.
“It’s better.” Eddie finally said.
Steve cocked his head, body still reeling, still wanting.
“Than I imagined back then. Maybe the timing wasn’t right, you know? We’ve both grown. Now the timing feels right.” Eddie clarified.
•
Eddie had the mixtape playing in his van an identical one to what he had made Steve when he picked up Gareth the following morning to grab breakfast, “What is this? Reliving your youth?"
Eddie laughed at his attitude.
Love letters, he thought to himself as they drove to the diner, crush confessions by song.
He smirked at Gareth, "I kissed Steve Harrington, actually we have a date on Friday."
Gareth groaned and turned up the music. It felt like 1986 all over again, atleast Eddie got the guy this time.
@eddiemonth prompt, oct 1st: Parents | Runaway - Sword | Youthful
cw: allusions to neglectful and alcoholic parent, police, incarceration [happy ending promised, as always!]
read on ao3 | link to series on ao3
Eddie runs away from home for the last time when he’s thirteen years old.
The ground beneath his feet is barely visible, barely felt against the worn soles of his too-small sneakers as he runs through the familiar trails of Hawkins’ forest. He’s run away before, usually sneaking out in the middle of the night when he hears the tell-tale silence of his father falling into a drunken stupor on the couch, but this time feels different. This time, he’s actually running, no backpack or hastily thrown together bag of essentials to weigh him down.
He hadn’t had time, not with so many police cars showing up at once.
His breath comes in quick bursts, just enough oxygen to carry him off the beaten path onto a path only he knows. It comes without markers or posts. Why would there be signs here? No one else needs the most direct route between Clyde Munson and Wayne Munson’s homes. A 10-minute run, quicker if he sprints like he is now, connects two different worlds and only one feels safe.
Uncle Wayne has, for much of Eddie’s life, been home. He’s lived with him on and off for a few months at a time, sometimes after dear old dad had been hauled away by Officer Hopper again and other times, when he’d simply run away and his dad couldn’t be bothered to track him down. Eddie spent nearly a year with his Uncle Wayne after his mom died, a wonderful year where Eddie experienced an actual parent and got to figure out things he actually enjoys– fantasy books, D&D, music with intense virtuosity and aggressive guitar lines. He never should’ve gone back, but the guilt ate at him. Maybe it’ll be different, he’d thought at the time. Maybe he’ll care now.
The fact that he’s running through the woods at full speed away from what could only be defined as a fucking siege with his dad at the center is all the answer he needs. There’s nothing he can do to help his dad– there’s nothing he should do, because he’s a kid at the end of the day and he never should’ve been put in this situation to begin with.
Eddie shakes his head as he runs, shaking the thoughts from his brain as he hears the familiar, comforting sounds of people talking in the distance. He barrels through the tree-line into one of his Uncle’s neighbors who steadies him by the shoulders, checks him over quickly to find nothing physically wrong.
“You alright, son? Looks like you seen a ghost.”
Nope, just a nightmare, he thinks.
Eddie shakes his head and looks around frantically for Wayne, out of breath. “No, no, I’m– I’m fine. Is Uncle Wayne home?”
“Eddie?” As though summoned, Wayne appears in the doorway of his own trailer a few lots down. Eddie shrugs out of the neighbor’s touch and runs toward the voice, the one that makes his brain slow down from the spinning wheel it’s been on since the first fist pounded on his dad’s door.
“Wayne, thank God, thank fuck,” Eddie mutters as he runs into him, hugging him unabashedly around the middle. His fingers dig tightly into Wayne’s back, clutching the fabric of his familiar flannel and grounding himself as Wayne hugs him back.
“I’m uh, I’m glad to see you, too, kid. Everything alright?” Wayne tone is questioning, rightfully so. He doesn’t know yet that Clyde’s been arrested and likely won’t get out this time, or that Eddie’s here to stay.
Hours later though, after Eddie’s shared his side of the story and Wayne’s made him a mug of his famous hot chocolate, the police arrive. Officer Hopper assures Eddie that he’s in no trouble, that he didn’t need to run, that he’ll never need to run from Clyde again.
“I know you’ve got a lot of your stuff still at the house. You got family around to stay with?” Officer Hopper asks, looking at Eddie but clearly asking Wayne.
“‘Course he does, he’s here, ain’t he?” Wayne nods at Officer Hopper and Eddie catches the interaction. “My old van ain’t much– she needs some work– but should be enough to get us back and forth with your stuff, Ed.”
The van is more than enough for the barebones possessions Eddie cares to bring: an old acoustic guitar that belonged to his mom, a worn paperback copy of The Fellowship of the Ring gifted to him by Wayne, and some clothes and odds and ends.
Years later, after he runs again and somehow lives to tell the tale, he returns to what still stands of the trailer with Wayne. Most of their belongings are either destroyed or damaged beyond repair but it doesn't matter to Eddie.
Home was never the trailer he ran to– just the family inside of it.
