#eventually steddie

[the-effect-of-chaos]

Whoops I uh blinked and suddenly am 3500+ words deep into what will be chapter one of O!Steve PostS2 Rewrite.

My eyes hurt now, though, too much staring at the laptop screen, not enough blinking is my guess.

[eriquin]

Cat's in the Cradle, part 13

Eddie has settled in and comfortable hiding out in Steve's house. He finally gets to meet some more of the party and hear more about what happened after he "died."

(master post)

Steve’s house had very good soundproofing, so Eddie didn’t hear that there were more people over until someone opened the door to the basement. He was hanging out in the den down there because it had comfortable couches, a big TV, and a bunch of places to hide in a pinch. He scrambled towards the storage room now, because he didn’t recognize half the voices and he was holding onto a lot of lingering paranoia from being hunted by the entire town. He made it around the storage room door and had it halfway shut before he recognized the voice of Mike Wheeler. 

“So now my mom thinks your mom is some kind of a genius or something,” he said. “I convinced her that Joyce sent us back to Hawkins on purpose when the earthquake hit, because she knew that Mom would be worried about me.” 

“And why does she accept that my mom didn’t call to warn her?” said a second boy’s voice. 

“Phone’s were down from the earthquake, obviously,” Mike said. “That’s why Joyce stayed behind, so she could keep calling and let her know that Jonathan was bringing me home. It’s awful that she could never get through, isn’t it?” 

The boys stopped at the bottom of the stairs and looked around. Eddie could see them through the crack in the door. He could hear that there were more people on the stairs behind them. The second boy was skinny, like Mike, but not quite as tall. He had a bowl cut, though it was a little tousled, and was wearing a checkered shirt. Eddie guessed this was probably Will, the boy had moved to California. All the freshmen Hellfire members talked about him. 

Mike had his hair pulled back into a half-assed ponytail and was slouching slightly. He turned around and poked his head back up the stairs. “Hey, he’s not down here,” he said to the people up the stairs.

“He’s probably just in the bathroom,” Steve said as he came down the stairs and around the corner. He crossed the room and checked, but the bathroom door was open with the light off. “Huh.” 

“You have another bathroom down here?” Mike asked. “How many bathrooms do you have?” 

“Why are you surprised?” asked Will. “Your basement den has a bathroom, too.”

“Yeah, but—” Mike looked around the room, taking in the dark couches and huge TV. “I don’t know. This place feels different, like that HiFi speaker commercial. Like it’s a place that doesn’t believe people piss.”

The stairs creaked once more as one more person came down them. “It is cooler down here than in Mike’s basement,” said the girl with the buzzed hair. Eddie recognized her from his visit to the void at Dustin’s house. It had been a few days, and now she was wearing a sweater and jeans that reminded him of one of Nancy’s outfits. 

Eleven looked across the room to the storage room door, right where he was hiding, and smiled. She pushed past Mike and Will and walked straight to him. He shuffled back so that he wouldn’t be literally hiding behind the door when she met him. She pushed the door open and said, “Hi Eddie.”

He clutched his hands behind his back, suddenly feeling shy, and mumbled, “Hi.”

“Dude, why were you hiding back there?” Steve asked. He was grinning at him like it was a joke.

“That’s what I’m supposed to do!” Eddie snapped, shyness evaporating. “You and Wayne said to hide if strangers came over.”

Mike smirked as he came closer. He put his hands on his knees and leaned over so he was closer to Eddie’s new height. “Awww, he’s learned stranger-danger already?”

“Go fuck yourself, Wheeler!” Eddie snarled at him. It came out high pitched and squeaky.

“Hey, language!” Steve said. He winced and covered his eyes when Eddie gave him a furious look. It had only been a couple of days since he’d opened his house up to Eddie and Wayne, but they’d already had repeated clashes over Steve forgetting that Eddie was not really a child. “Sorry, sorry, it’s just—”

“No, you’re right,” Will said. “It’s like hearing Holly swear. It’s weird.”

Eddie crossed his arms and turned his glare on the new boy, but before he could speak, Eleven put her arms around his shoulders in a little half-hug and turned back to the others. “My little brother can swear if he wants to,” she said. 

He squawked in protest and squirmed to get out from her arm, but she held on tight. “Not you too!” he yelped. “I know you know I’m older than you.”

“Older but smaller,” Eleven said. “So you are my little brother. Like Jonathan is to Will.”

Steve laughed and turned to Will. “Do you really call him that?” 

“I mean. Not to his face,” Will said. He sighed happily and stood up straight. “It’s nice being the tallest in the house now.” 

Mike grinned and stood up even straighter. He slung an arm over Will’s shoulder, showing that he had at least two inches on him. “It is, isn’t it?” 

Will turned pink and gave Mike a shove, and soon the two boys were play-fighting. Steve shook his head and sat down on the couch, patting the seat next to him. “What were you watching, Ed?” He grabbed the remote and turned the sound up. There was a commercial for a local auto dealer playing.

Eddie stuck his tongue out as he dodged Mike and Will to take a seat in the middle of the couch. “It’s Eddie,” he said. “Only Wayne calls me Ed.”

“Aw, Teddie-bear,” Steve said, pulling him into a headlock and ruffling his hair. “Don’t be like that.” 

Eddie squirmed and tried to get out of the headlock, to no avail. He couldn’t even get a good angle to bite Steve’s arm. El took a seat next to him, leaving just enough room on her other side for one more person. Mike and Will gave up their slap-fight to scramble for it, and El shrieked and moved closer to Eddie. 

Will got the seat, but Mike laughed and sat down on his lap with his legs over the arm of the couch. He laid back onto El’s lap as well, and reached up to boop Eddie on the nose. Eddie snapped his teeth at him. He missed.

“Hey, no biting,” Steve said. “We talked about this.” He let him out of the headlock, but Eddie was still pinned between Steve and El and a little bit under Mike. He squirmed uncomfortably.

“Woah, he’s even more feral as a little kid,” Mike said. He reached up again in an attempt to ruffle Eddie’s hair, and Eddie responded by grabbing a fistful of Mike’s dark locks and yanking hard. Mike yelped in pain and sat up to get away. He grabbed the armrest and tried to wedge himself between it and Will, but Will gave him a shove and he landed on the floor.

“E tu, Will?” Mike said from the floor.

“You’re heavy,” Will said. “And your ass is bony. How do you weigh so much when you’re only skin and bones?” 

Mike put his hand to his head and pretended to faint. “Will, how could you say such things?” he said with a gasp. “El, you don’t think I’m too bony, do you?” 

El nodded. “Yes. Very bony. You have grown up too much,” she said, gesturing up and down with her hands, “and you should grow out instead.” She gestured in the other direction. 

Eddie wiggled until he had a little bit more space on the couch. He leaned closer to Steve. “Has Wheeler always been this goofy at home? He was so uptight at school.”

“It’s the effect of the Wonder Twins over here.” Steve gestured at Will and El, who were giggling at Mike. “They bring out the worst in him.” He looked back at the TV. “Dude, were you really watching Magnum PI?” 

Eddie shrugged. “There was nothing else on,” he said.

“I like it,” El said with a smile. “I like his mustache. It’s like what Hopper used to have.” 

Mike sat up on the floor and scooted until his back was against Will and El’s legs. He tipped his head back to look up at El. “Do you think I should grow a mustache like that?”

All four people on the couch started to laugh. “In your dreams, maybe,” Steve said. 

“Pretty sure I have a better chance at growing a sweet Selleck ‘stache right now than you do, Michael,” Eddie said. He reached up to tug at his hair, but it was too short to pull in front of his face. Instead, he leaned over and put his face close enough to Steve’s head to pull some of his hair over his upper lip. “Something like this, right?” 

“Cut it out, you little gremlin,” Steve said, pulling away from him. “Leave my hair alone.” He grabbed Eddie around the ribs and dug his fingers in, making him squirm and laugh. This led to a full out tickle fight, with Eddie as a clear loser. It only ended when he started biting again. He left a full set of teeth marks on Steve’s arm, nearly drawing blood.

“Jesus Christ,” Mike said, having narrowly avoided getting nipped. “Has he had all his shots? Why do you bite so much?”

“Because you fuckers decided that the fact that I’m small now means I’m fair game to torture,” Eddie said. “Biting is my only means of defense. 

“You are all mean to my little brother,” El said, curling her arm around him protectively. 

“You were tickling me, too,” Eddie said, trying to squirm out of her grasp. He snapped his teeth at her, but it only made her laugh and pinch his cheeks. When she finally let him go, he stomped off to the stairs. 

“Hey, Joyce and Hopper are here,” Steve warned. “They’re talking over something with Nancy and Jonathan. That’s why we came downstairs.” 

Eddie rolled his eyes. “Thanks for the warning, but unlike these assholes, I don’t actually need a babysitter.” The noise he made as he stomped up the stairs made him feel a little better. 

He skirted past the living room, where the adults were talking, to get to the kitchen and grab a drink from the fridge. He thought he’d gotten away without being noticed, but when he shut the fridge door, Nancy was standing in the doorway. 

“You’re really him, aren’t you?” she asked. Her voice sounded thready, like she was choking up over seeing him.

“Yeah. Hey, Wheeler.” He held the can of soda in one hand and waved to her with the other. “How’s it going?” 

Nancy crossed the room in a rush and wrapped him up in a hug. He squeaked a little, not having expected her to suddenly be affectionate. He was shorter than her by a few inches, and he couldn’t quite get his chin over her shoulder. 

“Oh my god, you little asshole,” she said once she finished hugging him. She smacked his arm roughly. “I thought you were dead! I thought...” She wiped her face and sniffed. “I thought my plan got you killed.” 

“No, hey, come on,” Eddie said. “It was more like me not sticking to your plan that got me killed.” 

“Yeah, and you should have told us you had powers. That would’ve been helpful!” Nancy frowned deeply and held his face in her hands for a second, studying it. He let her. Then she squished his cheeks and grinned, “But you’re so damn cute like this, I can’t stand it.” 

“Noooo,” he groaned, pushing her away. “Why does everyone do that? I’m not some little preschooler.” 

“Sorry!” she said. She didn’t sound very sorry and she ruffled his hair. “It’s just... I remember when Mike was this small and I didn’t appreciate it at the time. Now he’s bigger than me and I miss it.”

Eddie ducked out of reach and fumbled while trying to open his soda. He couldn’t get his fingers under the tab. “It’s fucking weird, okay?” he said, and when he heard her gasp he put a finger up. “Don’t you start with the language shit, either. I will swear up a squeaky blue storm just because I can, so help me God.”

“Oh yeah, he’s definitely Munson.” Jonathan had shown up in the kitchen doorway at some point. “Smaller, but I can picture him up on those cafeteria tables, railing against the Man.”

“Hey, Byers,” Eddie said as he continued to fail to open his own soda. “Nice to see you back from Cali. How’s it hanging?” 

“S’good,” Jonathan said. He held his hand out. “Give it here. I’ll open it.” 

“I can do it.”

“You’ve got soft little baby hands now, man, just hand it over.” 

Eddie grumbled but complied. Jonathan opened the soda for him, then took a sip before handing it back. Eddie’s jaw dropped. “What the hell, Byers?”

“Pop tab tax,” Jonathan said. 

Nancy giggled. “He used to do that to Will all the time,” she said. 

“I still do.”

“Well, don’t do it to me,” Eddie said, grabbing a dish towel and wiping the lip of the can off. “I don’t want your cooties on my drink. I’ll catch your shitty taste in music.”

Jonathan snorted. “Yep. Good old Munson. Glad you’re not dead. Mike was really broken up about it.” 

Eddie paused and frowned down at his soda. “Mike was? Really? I didn’t know that little shit cared.”

Nancy climbed up to sit on the counter. “I mean, we all were,” she said. “But yeah, Mike was... Man, he looked shattered when I told him what happened.”

“He spent a lot of time talking up Hellfire on the drive out here,” Jonathan said. “After the whole thing with El mind-fighting with Henry and nearly losing, we still had to get here. He was just trying to keep everyone’s spirits up, but he was saying how he wanted her and Will to meet you. Talked up how cool your last game was, even though his character died. Said Will would really like you, and wanted to prove to all the guys that he actually had a girlfriend.” 

“Well, shit,” Eddie said. He took a sip of his soda to try to avoid thinking of something to say. 

“He does kind of idolize you,” Nancy said. “Pretty sure you’re why he’s growing his hair out.”

“Now his is longer than mine,” Eddie said, pulling one of his little curls out into his face. It was barely long enough for him to see it. “So I guess that worked out for him.” 

“Yeah, I don’t know how the hero worship is going to hold up with you looking like this,” Jonathan said. He sounded annoyed about something that Eddie didn’t quite understand, and he seemed to reconsider his words when Nancy gave him a pinched look. “I mean, you’ll probably figure out how to go back to normal soon, right?” 

Eddie shrugged. ‘No idea. Took me, like, three years to fix it last time this happened.” 

“Oh shit, really?” Jonathan looked chagrined. “I hadn’t heard that part.” 

“Yeah, and apparently I don’t actually just pop back up to my real age? So even when I was full grown, I was physically three years younger than my birth certificate said I was. Dustin said my teeth proved it.” Eddie took a sip of his Coke and sighed. “No wonder I had such a shit time in high school.”

“Wait,” Nancy said, holding her hand out and looking up like she had just thought of something. “Does that mean you were physically, like, eleven years old when you started high school?”

Eddie frowned. “I guess? Like this, plus about a year. Little bit taller, I guess.” 

She looked him over. “That’s insane. Why would—You’re a child! You’re obviously a child.” 

“I made up for it in attitude,” Eddie said.

She shook her head and hopped down from the counter. “It’s still insane that anyone would look at you and go ‘yeah, let’s put him in with our feral population of teenagers.’ Unbelievable.” She ruffled his hair again for good measure. 

“I think I got a growth spurt at the end of freshman year, so that helped,” Eddie said. “Guess we’ll see in, like, two more years.” 

Jonathan continued to look more than a little weirded out by the whole thing, and Nancy was growing more indignant on his behalf by the minute. Eddie decided to leave them to it and introduce himself to Joyce and Hopper. The ex-police chief’s memories of him were probably not-so-fond, but maybe his current appearance would earn him forgiveness for his past misdeeds. 

Instead, Hopper took one look at him and threw his head back in laughter. “Munson, they told me you shrank but I didn’t believe it.” He was sitting in one of the armchairs in the living room, but held his hand out for Eddie to shake.

Eddie came over and shook it warily. “You look like you shrank a bit, too,” he said, nodding at the man. He looked like he’d lost half his body weight, but Eddie had heard the story of him being in a literal gulag. “Glad you’re not dead, Chief.”

“Same to you, punk,” Hopper said with a grin. “And I’m not Chief anymore.”

“Guess that’s right.” Eddie sat down on one of the other couches. “I’m still kind of a punk, though.” 

Hopper chuckled at that. “Don’t let Joyce know what a bad influence you’d be on her kids.” 

Joyce snorted. She sat down on the other end of the couch from Eddie, closer to Hopper. “Is it my kids we’re worried about? Do you count El in that group? She’s the one who got arrested for braining some girl with a roller skate.”

“I heard that story,” Hopper said. “Sounded justified to me. Besides, your boys broke her out of prison.”

“It was out of an experimental military facility and she was the experiment so I also think it was justified,” Joyce said. She had a smirk on her face. “So tell me, Eddie. What did you do that was so bad that I should be worried about?”

Eddie raised his eyebrows and glanced over at Hopper. “You’re not police anymore, right?” he asked.

“Nah,” Hopper said. “Don’t think I could stomach going back to it, either.” 

“Okay, then. I mean, it’s not like it wasn’t all over the news. I was your friendly neighborhood drug dealer.” Eddie shrugged his shoulders up and gave her a sheepish grin. 

Joyce started to laugh. “Oh, you’re kidding me. I can’t picture it. I mean, I know you’re not really a little kid, but...” She waved her hands in his general direction. “I just had this vision of you going door to door selling pot for your Cub Scout troop or something.” 

Hopper burst out laughing, a deep belly laugh that made Joyce grin. Eddie found himself giggling, too. The big man laughed so hard that he ended up wiping tears from the corners of his eyes. “Man, and I thought the Girl Scouts were making their Thin Mints addictive,” he said. He reached over and patted Joyce’s hand. 

“Oh, dang,” Joyce said. She pulled her feet up to tuck them underneath her and lean on the arm of the couch.  “I just realized that I ordered a couple of boxes of cookies back in Lenora. They’re never going to be able to deliver them now.” Joyce and Hopper started laughing again. “That’s three bucks I’ll never see again.”  

Hopper turned back to Eddie. “You should’ve seen this one before he got turned into a little peanut, though,” he said. “All tattoos and attitude, running up all sorts of trouble for his uncle.”

“Hey, now,” Eddie said. “Not that much trouble. I could’ve been much worse.” 

“I suppose that’s true,” Hopper said. “So, is the age-changing thing the only power you’ve got? El was telling me about some of the other kids from the lab, and the things they could do.”

Eddie shrugged. “This is the only one I know about,” he said. “It’s a pretty shitty power, frankly.”

“I don’t know about that. Seems like an eternal youth thing, if you can get a handle on it.” Hopper stretched out in the armchair and Eddie noticed that one of his ankles was bruised and swollen. He also had some scars on his arms, from what he could see. “I wouldn’t mind a little of that.”

“It’s the bit about getting a handle on it that I don’t have yet, though,” Eddie said. “I am not looking forward to going through puberty all over again.” 

Joyce made a face and shuddered. “Ouch. Yeah, you’ve got my sympathy there.” 

Eddie managed to relax a little. Unlike the people who actually knew him, these two were treating him like his actual age and not his apparent one. It was a nice change of pace. Only Wayne had managed that so far, but he had already known what could happen. Maybe it came with being an actual adult... Or maybe it came with being an adult who was used to the weird stuff happening with their kids. Joyce and Hopper both fit that mold as much as his uncle did. 

He sat with them for the rest of the afternoon, getting caught up on the stories about their kids and the parts of the Upside Down that they’d seen. Eventually, Eleven came up from the basement to join them and took a seat next to Eddie on the couch. 

“Hop,” she said. “Are you being nice to my little brother?” She sounded very serious about it.

“Is that how it is?” Hopper asked. He leaned forward and peered at Eddie. “You know, I think I see the resemblance now.” 

Eddie rolled his eyes and El giggled. She brushed his hair back from his face and leaned down to put her face next to his. “We are the same,” she said. “You have to adopt him too, now.”

“Oh, I don’t think so,” Hopper said. “I don’t need more strays.”

“Yeah, I’ve already got Wayne,” Eddie said. “I’m good as far as father-figures go.”

“I thought that Wayne was your uncle,” El said. “But he is your father?”

“It’s complicated,” Eddie said. “My real dad’s in prison. Wayne’s like my acting-dad. He’s... More stable, I think. Dad did his best... The point is, I’m full-up as far as dad-like people in my life. No offense, Hop.”

“Absolutely none taken,” Hopper said. “What are you doing up here anyway, El? Got tired of the boys?”

“Sort of,” El said. “Mike and Steve are being weird at each other.”

“Yeah? How so?” Eddie asked. 

El wrinkled up her nose. “It is about you, actually. I don’t know if you want to hear it. Maybe it would hurt your feelings.”

Eddie’s eyebrows shot up. “I mean, I’m not actually ten years old, you know,” he said. “My feelings don’t get hurt all that easily. And also, I love gossip. Spill.”

Joyce snickered. “At least he’s honest,” she said.

El turned so she could face the room. “Mike is very confused about how you look now. He keeps talking about how cool you were, with your metal music and long hair. He is upset because now you are not cool anymore. Steve is arguing with him and saying that Mike has no idea what cool is. He says you are just as cool now as you were before you changed.” She pressed her lips together like she was hesitating in saying something more.

“Which is not cool at all, right?” Eddie said.

“Yes,” El said. “I think he meant it as a joke.”

“I know what Harrington thinks about me,” he said. “It’s fine. He probably couldn’t resist making a joke at my expense.”

“I think he is more interested in making fun of Mike,” El said.

Hopper nodded. “Knew there was something I liked about that kid,” he said.

“Hop,” Joyce warned. But she had a smile on her face.

“Steve says that Mike is only growing his hair out to be like you,” El said. “He asked if he will cut it short like you now.” 

Eddie snickered and fluffed his hair up. “If he did, would you pat Mike’s head like you do to me?”

El wrinkled up her nose in disgust. “No. Mike is not cute like you.”

“Oh, don’t let him hear you say that,” Joyce said. “He’ll get jealous.”

“Why?” El asked. There was no guile to it, and it was phrased like she would need the entire concept of jealousy explained to her. Eddie wasn’t sure what to think about that, but neither Joyce nor Hopper seemed inclined to be the ones explaining. 

“Well, if Mike ends up jealous of me, just remind him that two weeks ago I had all the freedom in the world and now people won’t even let me have a beer,” Eddie said. “Pretty sure Wayne let me have beer the first time around, so that’s extra unfair.”

El made another disgusted face. “Beer is gross,” she said.

Hopper chuckled. “And that’s why we let kids have it the first time around,” he said. “It’s an acquired taste, and they have no interest in acquiring it.”

“I do!” Eddie said. 

“You’d probably still think it was gross,” Joyce said. “Something about developing taste buds. I read that somewhere.” 

Eddie slumped back and made a thbbbt sound. “Doesn’t matter. Wayne won’t let me have any and Steve is being a ‘good babysitter’ and listening to him.” 

“Steve is a good babysitter,” El said. “You should listen to him.” 

“I don’t need a babysitter,” Eddie whined. “I’m twenty-god-damned-years-old.” He kicked his feet for emphasis. 

Hopper chuckled and reached back to the table behind him. “Hey, Munson,” he said, snapping his fingers. “Here.” He passed over an open can of Budweiser that had been sitting next to him. “Don’t tell your babysitter.” 

Eddie’s eyes lit up. He grabbed the can and took a sip before Hopper could change his mind. It was warm and bitter and, frankly, kind of terrible. He could tell from the looks everyone was giving him that his face had shown his disappointment. “Well, fuck,” he said, passing the can back. “Mrs. Byers was right.” 

“Sorry, honey,” she said. “Also, you can call me Joyce. That’s all right.” 

They sat around having a comfortable conversation. Eddie felt relatively normal for the first time in days, maybe weeks. Hopper shared some intel he’d gotten from the friendly agents on how they could get El in position to close some gates, and what the rest of the group could do. More and more people were leaving Hawkins every day, but they were all still here and for now, they were safe. Everything else could wait a little while.

(not tagging anyone in this yet but I'm willing to make a taglist)

[grimmfitzz]

You’ve Got Spirit, Kid

Part 2! You can find part one here.

This is a gender fluid Steve Fic - if that’s not your bag then that’s okay!

Content warning for: internalised homophobia/transphobia & period typical homophobia. In part one, Steve’s fear was more nebulous but in this part it’s more defined. We also see him start to reluctantly embrace his genderfluidity and his need for self expression. The pronoun usage will remain he/him for now as well.

***************************

The forgetting works for a good long while. A whole year in fact.

The image of himself in that awful skirt gets shoved back, back, back into the recesses of his brain and life goes on. He plays ball. He flirts with girls and likes it. Kisses a few of them and likes that too.

He navigates his way through the drudgery of high-school and finds himself coming out on top. He’s surrounded by people who look to him when making weekend plans or just loitering Hawkins halls. It feels good. He finds himself revelling in the way all the girls make that sweet sighing sound when he stands close or the the way guys puff up their chests like Steve’s attention is worth something.

So he doesn’t think about being pretty. Not for one single second.

He pulls up to Tommy’s place Halloween night still dressed in the stiff dress shirt he’d worn to the dinner his parents had hosted. It had chaffed a bit. Up until two weeks ago Steve had been all set to host the party of the century until his parents had rolled into town. Of course they showed up now. Not during the many evenings Steve had sat down to dinner for one, wishing his mom was there to cajole him into eating something a little better than a frozen Salisbury steak. No, the one weekend Steve had decided to let go of all that and enjoy the big house, no parents privilege they decide show their faces and throw their own party to boot. It was a much stuffier affair than the one Steve had in mind to be sure.

Steve makes his way up the sidewalk to Tommy’s front door, tugging his button down out of the hem of his pants where it was tucked in tight as he goes. Carol beats him to the door before he can knock. She’s beaming at him in a way that screams mischief.

“You made it! Finally. We’re bordering on late-late rather than fashionably so.” She tugs him by the hand up towards the stairs. Above them a chorus of laughter rings out.

Steve takes a second to take in Carol’s costume: a purple dress that hugs her curves trimmed in white, a scarf around her neck, her hair teased all to hell so that it frames her head like a helmet. “Daphne huh? You gonna catch old man Withers stealing diamonds?”

Carol laughs, big guffaws that make her wobble on the top step. She turns to him with glassy eyes. “Don’t worry,” she slurs slightly “we’re not leaving you out Steve-o.” Apparently the gangs already started partying without him.

They tumble into Tommy’s room. Carol still has a firm grip on his hand and he’s got an arm around her waist to keep her steady. Tommy just looks on with a roll of his eyes. “Hurry up assholes. We gotta go. D’you tell him yet?” Tommy raises a brow at Carol.

“No, I was getting to that.” She smiles sweetly up at Steve. He doesn’t buy it for a second.

Because Tommy’s wearing blue jeans and a white shirt with an honest to god ascot tucked into the collar and Frankie (why was Frankie invited?) is wearing a green t-shirt and brown corduroy pants. There’s a theme going and it’s not hard for Steve’s painfully sober brain to catch onto it.

“The Scooby gang? Really? I’m not dressing up as a dog.” Steve insists, entirely unamused.

It’s then that Frankie’s girlfriend Kate skips into the bedroom with a dress just as tight as Carols… and ears in her hair and a tail attached to the back which means-

“You’re not Scooby! Come oooon Steve. We need a Velma.” Carol holds a bundle of fabric (not nearly enough fabric, not at all) towards Steve.

“What? Guys come on. I’m not going dressed as a fucking girl.” Steve huffs.

“Dude! It’s just for a laugh man.” Tommy nudged his shoulder. “We all know you’re not- you know. It’s Halloween! It’s just for fun. It’ll be great. Besides the gang won’t be complete without Velma.” Tommy waves his hand at the small group lingering around his room.

It’s been so long since he thought about it: a skirt settling around his thighs and ambiguous dread settling in his belly. ‘And I’m not gonna start now. It’s nothing. It’s just a costume. It’s just for fun like Tommy said.’

But he’s pushed the boundaries on protesting too much. He’s seen it a dozen times before. He’s seen the tide turn on guys who refuse to change in the locker room; guys who protest just a little too much to the hard slaps the others land on their ass. There’s a thin line between rolling with a ‘joke’ and shying away too hard. It’s like if you say ‘we’re all telling the same joke but is it really all that funny? Is it that YOU want it? Doesn’t that mean-‘ and suddenly every laughing mouth in the room turns sour at the implications of it all. It’s a joke until it isn’t and then it’s a target painted on your back.

Steve could ball up the costume, throw it to the floor, storm out. But he would be crossing that line and then it’s just a matter of time before the one question he doesn’t want asked gets thrown into the atmosphere like a bomb.

‘What are you so afraid of Steve-o?’

It’s just a joke so Steve groans in what he hopes is a good natured sort of way. “Fine but I’m doing shots first.”

The whole room is cackling when he walks back in. He didn’t look at himself in the mirror when he changed and he doesn’t look at himself now.

“Marvellous!” Carol squeals. “To the Mystery Van!”

The Mystery Van turns out to belong to Frankie who is now the only sober member of their little troupe. They arrive at Johnny’s house to find cars parked around the block which isn’t all that surprising. Johnny graduated last year. He’s only home for the weekend before heading back to Indy. Or maybe Chicago? Wherever he ended up going to college. Steve can’t recall through the thickening haze clouding his mind.

Steve moves through the night in a sort of stupor that refuses to lift. It seems the costume, however it looks, is well received for the joke that it is. Steve gets offered drinks and laughs and pats on the back for being a good sport according to Mikey. He does keg stands that leave the burgundy skirt lifting around his chest, baring his boxer briefs to the room and eliciting peels of laughter.

But he doesn’t look at the windows, too afraid of what they might reflect back at him. He doesn’t look down at himself all night even when he can feel the orange sweater hanging loose around his neck and itching at his chest. He smiles and dances and laughs and doesn’t think anything.

It isn’t until he finds himself hunched over his sink with a toothbrush between clenched teeth and foamy paste dripping down his chin that he comes back into himself.

He barely remembers the end of the night: bodies pressed together, the tittering laughter of a girl as she gripped his jaw, a drive home in the back of Frankie’s van, a tiptoed journey through his darkened house. He’s not even sure if his parents are home. He hopes they aren’t. Begs everything good in this world that they left after their elbow rubbing because-

He looks up and locks eyes with his own reflection. He prays his parents are gone because he couldn’t stop the wounded noise that escapes his lips if he tried.

Those fingers against his jaw must have been the culprit behind the smeared black lines around his eyes, the pink dust across his cheeks, the pearly white glitter on his eyelids, and most damning of all: bright red lipstick that’s slowly dribbling down his chin along with the toothpaste.

Steve spits, rinses, and stands. He regards himself in the mirror for several long, silent minutes before he lets out another sound. It’s more of a whine. His fingertips run along the edge of the skirts and against the hair along his thighs.

What would it feel like to wear this skirt during swim season? Would the stiff, pleated skirt feel like silk when Steve shaves all the hair off his body or would it itch? It’s short. Very short. If he shifts his weight he can see the hems of his underpants sticking out. Twisting two and fro sends the pleats flaring outward. A thrill crawls up his spine.

The sweater is a burnt orange. It’s not something Carol would have had in her own closet and he spares a brief second wondering who’s mother she stole it from. The turtleneck collar is loose. The shoulders hang limp where he’s stretched them with the broad sweep of his own arms. The waist however still tucks in close, hugging his hips. The whole look gives the illusion of curves hidden underneath.

Running his hands over his hips leaves him smiling before he can stop himself. He looks like a wreck. Makeup smeared and ill-fitting clothes aside however, Steve looks pretty. That small thrill blooms into something that warms him up from the inside out.

The alcohol still lingering in his blood dulls the part of himself that locked that thought away so long ago. He’s sobering up by the minute but he’s still just loose enough that the shame and the embarrassment and the voices that usually screams out ‘what are you doing? Danger! Danger! They’ll all know. They’ll see. They’ll hate you and hit you and shun you. Danger!’ All of it is blissfully silent for this one moment. In his reflection looking back at him, his smile looks brighter than he’s ever seen it.

They had a test in biology just last week where they were asked to label the parts of the brain. The grey matter was laid out in 2d, all divvied up with thick black lines. Steve had neatly labelled the Occipital Lobe and the Frontal Lobe but there was a blank in the middle that he just couldn’t quite remember. Standing in his bathroom with the sunrise peaking in through the tiny window above the toilet, Steve knows what that piece of his own brain would be now.

‘She’s pretty, she’s pretty, she’s pretty’ clangs through his mind in time with his racing heart. It parks itself right smack dab in the unlabelled middle bit of his brain with no signs of being locked away ever again.

Steve presses his fist to his mouth in an effort to stifle the sobs that wrack his whole body. He can’t escape this thing anymore. If anyone- anyone knew, if they saw-

He tugs the sweater and the skirt from his body. Not violent ripping but rather reverent removal, careful and cautious, with an eye on the stitching because he knows without a shadow of doubt that he’ll wear them again. It’s just there now- this warm feeling suffusing every fiber of his being even as the cold sweep of fear tries to chase it away.

He cries and cries and cries under the shower spray. The kohl runs, stinging his eyes and turning little rivulets of water black before they disappear down the drain.

‘She’s pretty, she’s pretty, she’s pretty.’

—

Weeks pass. Once the perogative is there, it’s like a bumblebee trapped in his chest. It buzzes under his flesh. After riffling through his mothers closet (a fruitless endeavour) and several aborted trips to the few clothing stores around town, Steve comes to the realisation that if he wants to scratch this itch he’ll need to start from scratch. Every other option comes with implications and the possibility of getting caught.

“Will that be all dear?” The woman asks. Steve lays his selection down on the counter. The air is thick with the smell of scented powder and middle aged women slathered in White Shoulders.

“Yeah.” Steve lets out an uncomfortable laugh. “Party went a little too hard. Gotta replace the curtains.”

He’d spent four hours coming up with a cover story after he’d unearthed the dusty sewing machine from the attic. A relic of a time when his mother spent more days at home than not, playing at the perfect housewife. Back before his fathers philandering had her glued to the man’s side.

Perhaps he should have kept his cover in mind. He doubts she believes that the bright neon colors or the flowery patterns are intended to be hung as window dressing. But the lady is already scanning the fabric so there’s no going back now. If she does give it any thought she doesn’t question it aloud, doesn’t seem to care.

The entire weekend is spent sequestered in the attic. It’s easy to see why those skirts back in freshman year looked haphazard at best. Steve works his way through three yards of fabric before his stitches start looking even where they glide across blue satin and forest green cotton. He wouldn’t have known his ass from his elbow if it hadn’t been for the paper envelopes stuffed with patterns he could follow. The ones he had shamelessly snuck out of the store beneath his jacket.

In the end he has a pile of clothes he made with his own two hands. There are sure to be a million things someone with far more experienced than he would do better but it doesn’t matter. Not really. Not when he slides velvet up his legs and over his hips. Not when satin falls over his shoulders just right. He sends up a thanks to whatever deity that it’s finally swim season. It means he can get away with shaving neck to toe without fearing the rest of the basketball teams questioning gaze. It’s alright to do that sort of thing for swim meets but in the off season? He wouldn’t dream of it.

After selecting the first pieces to try on, Steve locks his door then locks his bathroom door for good measure. Already he’s making notes for what he’ll fix next time while scolding himself for thinking next time to begin with.

This whole venture was perpetuated under the guise of being a one time thing, something quick and under the radar to appease the part of his brain that now demands it. Despite the insistence of his cover story, even the one he tells himself, Steve knows he’s hooked the minute he looks into the mirror.

When he twists, the pleats of the skirt flair just so, much more than the Velma one, and it drapes a little longer down his thighs. The shirt he’d made was a simple floral button down but he ties up the hem into a knot so that it sits above above his waist. It’s not perfect but it feels so damn good. The colors pop against his tan skin. He starts thinking about the meagre bits of make-up he could steal from his moms stash. It’s all sitting, collecting dust anyhow. She’ll never notice it’s gone and even if she does, he’ll spin a story about some girl needing to touch up her own. Before he knows it, there’s a smile on his face that he’s never seen before: bright, full of teeth but somehow coy, pretty.

That same refrain, becoming more familiar by the minute, rolls around his mind and any thoughts of getting whatever this is out of his system promptly flees.

‘She’s pretty. She’s pretty. She’s pretty.’

[rustycat16]

stranger things demigod/Percy Jackson au

Consuming thoughts: Jane/Eleven, Zeus. Steve, Aphrodite obvs. Will, Apollo. Robin, Iris. Dustin, Hephaestus. Max, Hermes. Eddie, Hades (but Persephone approved, head cannon they both loved Eddie's mom in the hippie free love era so he receives some blessings from both). Argyle, Demeter or Hecate. Be gentle it's been a minute since I read Percy Jackson.

Lucas, Nancy, Jonathan, Mike, and Erica not demigods but blessed by association/merits (Apollo for Jon, Nancy got Athena, Erica likely Hermes, Mike idk man maybe Aphrodite maybe)

Head cannons: Steves dad tells him earliest, Aphrodite promised his human mom a great love story of her own if Steve is looked after until he's 15/16 then she peaces out. Steve goes to a summer or two at camp Halfblood and then notices the corrupted monsters and golden aura around the Hawkins kiddos and finally they all must make a mad dash together to New York? Wherever Camp Halfblood is. Pre season 4 but Eddie is noticed by monsters too and gets dragged along. Drama with him being one of few sons of Hades and Jane/Eleven being a daughter of Zeus. Mostly I want Steve to growl at the other Aphrodite kids when they appreciate Eddie. And that's all I got.

[steve-is-a-bottom-bitch]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Chapters: 1/15 Fandom: Stranger Things (TV 2016) Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Steve Harrington/Nancy Wheeler, Robin Buckley/Nancy Wheeler, Jonathan Byers/Nancy Wheeler, Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson Characters: Jonathan Byers, Nancy Wheeler, Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson Additional Tags: steddie, Slow Burn, Everyone Is Gay, it's like... extreme slow burn, the original goal was steddie but then i started rewatching ST and now we have this monstrocity, Canon Compliant, Stranger Things 4 Summary:

Hawkins, Indiana, 1983: A normal town, full of normal teens, who want to live their very normal life. Before they became monster fighters and protectors and saviors, they were just kids. And two of them thought they were falling in love.

But then they continued to fight monsters. And they had to grow up. And while they grew up fighting monsters they discovered that love went beyond the bounds they were taught.

The original idea was just Steddie. But now it's a deep dive into the relationships that shaped these characters and how they figure out who they are.