Prompt: Grand Theft Me | Word Count: 3291 | Rating: G | POV: Eddie, Joyce, Wayne, Henry | Relationships: None | CW: Financial Struggles, Retail Work | Tags: Good Uncle Wayne Munson, Struggling Joyce Byers, Unionization kind of
This is an entry for @corrodedcoffinfest's May Mayhem Bingo.
Ao3 link
Sever
The tank is empty. Joyce starts the car again. It sputters then dies because the tank is empty. Tears prickle the edges of Joyce's eyes. Fucking Lonnie. He promised to fill the tank. She has to get to work. The car isn't starting. She needs this paycheck. They need this paycheck. Joyce slams her fist against the wheel. It accidentally hits the horn. Jonathan pokes his head out. He frowns, worried. Joyce sighs and leaves the car.
"What's going on?" Jonathan whispers.
"Car's out of gas," Joyce replies. She picks up the phone. Jonathan hovers, worried. She waves him away. He needs to get Will to school.
Henry, her manager, takes his sweet time picking up the phone. Joyce fills that time picking at her nail and picking at Will's crayons on the messy kitchen counter and twirling the wire so hard around her finger it feels like she might sever her pinky. It's not like he's going to be the one suffering if she doesn't show up for her shift, and she knows this, and he knows this, that she would be the one without a paycheck and her co-workers would be the one without the badly needed extra set of hands. So Joyce tries again and again and again, while thinking about how she should never have let Lonnie borrow the car, no matter how excited Will was to go apple picking with that fucking bastard. She should have let Will down easy when Lonnie tried to back out of his visitation time, claiming that his car was in the shop, but she didn't, because she's stupid and still falls for his tricks then she was too tired to check the car's fuel gauge when Lonnie managed to deliver Will in one piece, and now she's finding out just now that fucking Lonnie never fucking put the gas in the fucking tank!
Henry finally picks up.
"Joyce, where are you?" he hisses, "your shift started ten minutes ago."
"My car's out of gas," Joyce says, "and I just need a little help. If someone could pick me up? Just for today? And if I can get a small advance, just fifty dollars, then I'll be able to fill my tank then get to work—"
There's a pause on the other side of the line. Joyce wraps the wires around her fingers again, praying. Henry is an asshole and a hardass, but he's not stupid. She's the best cashier he's got. She takes all the shifts. He's got to remember right? He's got to cut her some slack at least. How would the store run without her?
"I'll consider this your resignation," Henry says smoothly, "you'll receive your last check in the mail."
Then he hangs up before Joyce can get a word in.
Eddie's used to being swamped at Melvard's. They're always short-staffed by at least one person. But today is impossible even by Melvard's standards. The new cashier girl has no idea what she's doing (because she's new). The deliveries keep coming. The customers keep customering. Eddie hasn't even been able to take his break. He sees an irritated looking Mr. Holloway stalking through the aisles and hides in a pile of unpacked boxes. Well, he attempts it, but Doug is already there, taking up space. He gives Eddie an apologetic grimace. Eddie sighs and goes back out to let Mr. Holloway scream at him about how they're out of the specific ketchup brand he likes. He can see Henry scolding Doug out of the corner of his eyes.
By the time they manage to clock out, they're both staggering. Doug tries to fish a cigarette out of Eddie's pockets, and Eddie slaps his hand away.
"Traitor," Eddie says without much venom.
"Hey, I still got chewed out," Doug says, "and better to get chewed out by Holloway then Henry right?"
"Henry's easier to tune out though," Eddie argues, "it's always ooh how dare you take a single second to breathe, don't you know that you are. Stealing. From. The. Company?!"
Doug chuckles, "man I miss Joyce," he says after a beat, "she made it all look so easy."
"I wonder what store she moved to," Eddie muses, "maybe she'll put in a good word for us."
"Doesn't she hate you?" Doug asks, poking Eddie in the ribs, "especially after you pointed Mrs. Click in the opposite direction?"
"Joyce would never hate anybody," Eddie declares, "and none are immune to my roguish charms."
"Yeah, yeah," Doug says, punching Eddie lightly in the arm, "then go talk to her."
"Maybe I will."
"Jonathan Byers is her son right? Do you have any classes together?"
"Jonathan… Byers?! The photography nerd?" Eddie asks, shocked. Jonathan's so quiet and angry. He can't connect the two as family in his mind.
"Yeah, I know, weird right?" Doug agrees, "and he's kind of scary so I don't want to talk to him. But you've got your ways."
"He bought from me once, so I have that in," Eddie says, "maybe I'll give him a discount if he lets me talk to Joyce about moving to her new store."
~~~~~
"Hey Jonathan. Your mom's Joyce right? You know which shop she moved to? Can she put in a good word for me?" Eddie asks, batting his lashes. He probably shouldn't be doing this in the hallway. He probably should have baited Jonathan in with weed or something, softened him up a bit. But he found the overdue bills Wayne's been hiding and he really can't afford to be giving out discounts or free wares right now. On top of that, balancing Melvard's unpredictable shift schedules with school is becoming impossible. But dropping out would break Wayne's heart.
He's getting a bit desperate for greener pastures.
"What the fuck are you talking about?" Jonathan hisses. Close up, he looks kind of awful. There's bags under his eyes and a premature frown line that's starting to form between his brows.
"Uh, your Mom? I heard she moved stores? And to be honest man, Melvard's was already hell on earth and now it's somehow managing to get even worse, so if you could just talk to Joyce and let her know—"
"She didn't move," Jonathan cuts him off.
"What?"
"She got fired," Jonathan hisses, shoving Eddie into the lockers, "because none of her co-workers were willing to give her a ride to work for just a week or two."
"Uh… what?"
Jonathan shoves him again then stalks off.
~~~~~
Henry tries to rub out the thrumb in the back of his head as he studies the profit and costs this quarter. They're just about making it, but corporate isn't going to be happy that profits only grew 1% this year. Every new employee he brings on is turning out to be a dud. He needs to plan next month's inventory. He needs to make a schedule. There's a fucking Walmart coming up just a thirty minute drive away and he doesn't know how he's going to explain to the dickbags at corporate that no amount of penny pinching is going to get them to meet Walmart prices.
He was supposed to do great things. Instead, he's here, trying to get a bunch of nitwits to fucking show up on time and not spend all day loafing around when they should be grateful they got a job anywhere in this stupid hick tiny town he was sure he'd have left by now.
One of said nitwits burst in through his office. Eddie Munson. Bane of his life. He had a talent for being just annoying enough to set his teeth on edge, but not annoying enough to justify firing him. With six months of experience below his belt, he was basically a grizzled vet, and Henry, as loath as he was to admit, couldn't afford to lose one more person who actually knew how the cash register worked right now.
"You said Joyce resigned," Munson growls before he's even halfway through the door.
"I don't pay you to come waste my time Munson," Henry snaps, "this is your first strike. Get back out on the floor."
"I'm on my government-mandated break," Munson says smugly.
"Go take your break then. That's what the break room is for."
"No, you're not wiggling out of this," Munsons marches over and slams his grubby mitts down on his beautiful desk. "What the fuck were you thinking? Joyce was the best thing that ever happened to this store. Why would you fire her?!"
"One of the job requirements is reliable transportation," Henry explains to get Munson the hell out of his office, "she didn't have one."
"You could have asked any of us!" Munson exclaims, "I have a car! I live like fifteen minutes away!"
"I don't need that additional logistical complications when I have fifty applications coming in through the door every day," Henry says, starting to get even more irritated, "now, unless you're here to hand in your resignation, I suggest you take your break in your breakroom."
They stare at each other. Henry arranges his face into a professional leer, selling the bluff that no, it would truly be not devastating at all if Munson quit and the average employee tenure went down to two months. Munson grumbles something and storms out. Henry leans back in his chair smugly. He thought so.
~~~~~
Wayne's used to Eddie not being able to settle down. But he's being a lot, even by his own standards. Wayne decides to step in before Eddie breaks another plate. Those are expensive.
"What's got your bees all buzzing?" Wayne asks, trying not to sound too stern.
"Nothing," Eddie says, setting the plate down back down in the sink with a huff. He grabs a sponge and sets it back down. Walks to the couch. Flounces down. Surfs the channels a bit then throws the remote with a big huff.
"Uh huh. So what's this nothing?" Wayne asks.
"I said nothing Wayne!" Eddie yells with a scowl.
Wayne just looks at him, eyebrow quirked. Eddie visibly wilts and Wayne wonders again just why Eddie's teachers have such a hard time with him. He's a sweet boy. Just need to show him you're worth his time.
"There's something I really wanna do, for the principle of the thing," Eddie finally mutters, "and I don't want to be a coward, but I… I can't do the right thing here because I need the wrong thing. But it's all so fucked and unfair. And I'm being such a hypocrite when I'm the one marching around on lunch tables telling people to stand up for themselves and fuck the system. But the one time I actually gotta live up to my words I—"
"Eddie," Wayne says, putting his hands up, "does this have anything to do with how our water bill got mysteriously paid?"
Eddie shifts uncomfortably and avoids Wayne's gaze. Wayne gets up with a grunt and makes his way over to where Eddie is trying to bury himself into their shitty, ancient pullout couch.
"Eddie. You know I can make this work right?" Wayne asks carefully.
"I know that. I just wanted to help out."
"I don't want you doing anything that'll put you in the same place as your old man son," Wayne says with a frown, "gonna send me to an early grave."
"I'm not pulling stupid risks like what Al did," Eddie insists. There's a pause. Wayne lets the silence linger grow until it's heavy and big enough to choke his nephew.
"I got a part-time job at Melvard's," Eddie finally admits to the floor.
"Eddie, you've got school—"
"I'm making it work. I swear!" Eddie insists, "I promise. 86. This is gonna be my year. But I should have graduated last year and started helping out already. I wanted to… just do a little bit."
Wayne makes a skeptical noise. But he did see that Eddie was on track to finish that last credit he needed, so he leans back and lets his boy continue.
"And they fired Joyce!" Eddie continues.
"Joyce Byers?"
"Yeah! That Joyce Byers! They fired her for not having reliable transportation," Eddie says, gesturing wildly, "I bet her car was in the shop for a bit or something. Maybe an accident. Henry, that's the store manager by the way, could have asked any of us to help out. Hell, I would have driven her gladly. She taught me so fucking much about all the ins and out of the job. She was the best cashier that place had. She knew the inventory like the back of her hand. She got employee of the month like almost every month and they just fired her!"
"That sounds about right," Wayne grunts.
Eddie flounces back on the couch and blows a long raspberry. "Yeah, so that's it then? Shit sucks. Nothing to do about that. Bend the knee and show my neck. Welcome to adulthood I guess," he mutters darkly.
"No," Wayne says, lightly rapping his knuckles on Eddie's head, "was it kinda dumb of Joyce to work that hard? Probably, but I know her sort. Can't help being helpful. But boy. You don't gotta sacrifice your dignity. Not while I'm here."
"Wayne, I'm not gonna keep taking shit from you," Eddie protests weakly.
"You're not taking anything from me," Wayne says, "I'm union. Bosses know to toe the line. You gotta work a job with dignity son."
"But we need that money."
"You say that one more time and I'm gonna take my paycheck and buy a ticket for one of those rackets you call music," Wayne says, rapping his knuckles gently against Eddie's wiry hair again. He's mostly gotten over how Al stole seventy thousand from him, wiping out his savings and any hope of giving Eddie the kind of rich childhood he deserved, but in moments like this, when Eddie's worrying about bills instead of boys or his future like any kid his age should, he just wants to drag his baby brother out of jail and wring his neck. Then hug him. Then wring his neck again. "We're Munsons. We make shit work. We always do. We don't bend."
"I—"
"Do what you gotta do Eddie," Wayne says, trying to sound as warm as he can. He can see his nephews eyes start to water from the corner of his eyes. He rises from the couch and escapes the trailer to give the boy some room, muttering about needing a smoke.
~~~~
Someone won't stop knocking at the door.
Joyce sits up, bleary. She's been sleeping too much. Honestly, the amount of moping about she's been doing makes her so ashamed it makes her bury herself under the sheets again. She has to pull herself together. She's got Will and Jonathan to take care of. Jobs to apply for. Cash she needs to try to scrounge up. Lonnie is sniffing around about getting custody of Will again and she needs to show him that she's strong. She's got this.
But lately, it's all she can do to get out of bed.
The knocking finally stops. Joyce sighs and sinks back into the bed.
It starts again.
Joyce sits bolt upright, getting increasingly angry. Who the fuck is being this persistent? Is it bill collectors? She's barely a month overdue and they know they're not allowed to harass her in person like this. Did Lonnie actually file that custody lawsuit as if that cheating, violent sack of shit has any hope of providing a better home for the boys than she could, even half asleep? Joyce pushes herself out of bed, fueled by adrenaline and anger and frustration and marches to the door to throw it open.
Henry fucking Creel stands in front of the door, looking frantic.
"Hi Joyce, I'm offering you your job back," he says, offering a shaky smile.
"The fuck you are," Joyce snarls, moving to slam the door in his face. But she hesitated for a beat too long. Creel sneaks in, hands held up in mock surrender. He goes over to her messy kitchen table and lays out some official looking paperwork. Smooths it out and gestures to it.
"It's a good opportunity," Creel says smoothly, "you were good at your job. I know you enjoyed it. Doesn't look like you're doing anything else right now. Why not take it?"
Joyce crosses her arms, "I'm starting something next week," she lies.
"Sure you are," Creel says.
"Get the fuck out," she snarls. A small voice in her screams to do it for the boys. But she doesn't… she doesn't want to show the boys how to bend and grovel and accept any kind of bullshit. Besides, they still have… some grace period before power gets cut off.
"How about a twenty percent raise?" Creel says with a shark-like smile.
Joyce scoffs. "That's only a seventy cent raise you fucker," she says.
Creel flinches, taken aback, as if he hadn't seen her easily do math in her head for the past six year's she'd been at Melvard's long before Creel got resentfully dumped into Hawkins to manage the local branch.
"How about I throw in an advance then," Creel says, "as a gesture of good faith, and also so you can actually get to work."
"No advance," Joyce hears herself say. "You want me that bad? Offer a signing bonus."
Creel's face crumples. "Alright… fifty dollar signing bonus," he spits out.
"What's going on?" Joyce asks.
"You got your raise and a bonus. What more do you want?" Creel demands.
"You barge into my house, in the wrong side of town, begging me to take my job back. And we both know it's not out of the goodness of your heart," Joyce plants her foot, "I'm not taking my job back until you tell me what's going on."
"I can leave right now," Creel threatens.
"Great! Go!"
Creel actually moves to leave. Joyce stands aside and gestures at the door. She watches the men flounce off and away, five, six, seven steps, until he looks back in disbelief. She gives him a jaunty little wave. She can feel a manic grin forming at her mouth. Is she dreaming?
Creel marches back with a flush across his slimy little face. "They're refusing to go to work," he finally admits.
"Who are they?"
"Munson got everyone to walk out," Creel says with a heavy, affronted sigh, "they're refusing to work until you're reinstated." He looks at her warningly. "I can replace them. So don't think you have a blank check. But you and I both know this could be resolved… more efficiently."
Joyce can't stop the bark of laughter that erupts out of her. How many times had Lonnie made fun of her for trying too hard. Being too much. Too loud. Too enthusiastic? And here it was, paying off.
"Ok, I'll come back," she finally manages to sputter out. "But I have some conditions."
Creel sighs. "Alright. Whatever. You've got the raise. The bonus. Your shift starts—"
"I want minimum ten hours, guaranteed, for everyone," Joyce cuts in.
"You can't be fucking serious—" Creel sputters.
"Oh I am. Minimum ten hours," Joyce says with a grin, "and you make the schedules a week in advance. No more of this standby or on-call nonsense."
"I can't possibly predict what the traffic would be a week in advance," Creel protests.
"It's Hawkins!" Joyce says, rolling her eyes, "folks here basically live on a time loop. I could predict what the traffic is going to be a month in advance."
Creel stands before her, defeated, angry, weak. Joyce feels like she's fifty feet tall.
"Fine. Your shift starts now. I'll drive you," he finally grumbles.
What do patientanxiety @steddiestories @hullomoon and I all have in common? We are all obsessed with this adorable found family fic written by @just-my-latest-hyperfixation and cover art by @amanita-fierce
If you like steddie, UNCLE WAYNE (my beloved), and found family, this is the multivoice podfic for you.
Steddie, Rated T, 7 min 40 sec.
Day #23 - Prompt: Up And Coming | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: T | CW: None | POV: Eddie | Pairing: None | Tags: Fluff, good Uncle Wayne, good nephew Eddie, the Munsons
It’s been a year since Eddie’s been home.
He pulls up outside the trailer in Forest Hills. Wayne’s truck is more beat to shit than he remembers, but the thing was on its last legs when he left for Indy in ‘87. Theres gaffer tape holding up the rusting rear bumper, and the tires are near bald.
He let’s himself inside, careful not to wake Wayne; the one blessing that came from all the shit of 1986 was that the government gave them a double wide and the old man finally got a bedroom again. That was the one thing Eddie could never quite shake the shame of, especially when he was a high school senior seemingly unable to graduate. He’s hoping today’s visit will make up for it a little.
He takes his sneakers off, new ones he only bought a few weeks ago, lines them up neatly next to Wayne’s work boots, then heads into the kitchen to make himself a cup of coffee. He had an early start, and what with the flight from LA (a flight!) and the drive from Indy, he’s aching for sleep.
He takes his coffee over to the couch, the red pleather one they picked up for a steal (because it was ugly as shit, Robin had said), puts his feet up and closes his eyes. Just for a minute.
“—die. Eddie. Hey, rise and shine.”
He wakes with a gasp, wisps of a memory, of leathery skin and tails and razor teeth.
“Wayne?”
“There he is.” Wayne straightens up, back cracking as he does. “You never said you were coming, or am I going senile?”
“Both,” Eddie says around a yawn.
Wayne sticks his hand in Eddie’s curls, ruffling them gently. “If you want breakfast and a place to stay, be nice.”
Eddie rolls off the couch, giving Wayne a hug before following him into the kitchen, perching himself on a stool to watch as Wayne sets about making them breakfast at five in the afternoon.
“Is everything okay? Not that I’m not happy to see you, just a long way to drive for a catch up.”
Eddie grins. “Actually, I flew.”
“Flew?” He whistles. “My boy, the rockstar.”
They sit at the table together, bacon, eggs and toast laid out in front of them, Wayne catching him up on the comings and goings of the plant and Forest Hills; old Rose Hannigan still being a nosey bitch as usual, and Dougie has a new dog and god the damn thing won’t stop barking during the day. It’s nice. It’s so different from LA, so small in the best way, and even though his relationship with home, with Hawkins, is so complex, cut through with slithers of painful memories, he misses it. He does. It doesn’t make all that much sense.
Or is it just Wayne he misses? The man who loved him and protected him when his father couldn’t (wouldn’t). The man who gave him everything and more, who was working himself to an early grave to look after a boy that wasn’t his own.
Eddie grabs his bag from the floor and slides the white envelope out, still neat and crisp. He pushes it across the table.
“What’s this?”
Eddie huffs a laugh. “Open it and find out.”
He gets a raised eyebrow back for his trouble, but he doesn’t take his eyes off Wayne. Doesn’t want to miss this.
Wayne grumbles about envelopes being too sticky these days and then he pulls out the slip of paper tucked inside and comes to a stop.
“What the hell is this?”
“It’s a check, Uncle Wayne.”
He shoots Eddie a scowl. “I can see it’s a check. Where— I don’t understand.”
Eddie fold his arms on the table in front of him. “The album is selling. It’s doing good, actually. We’re big in Germany, the UK, I think we’re doing pretty good in Japan too. You know I wrote most of those songs, right?”
Wayne gives him a little nod.
“Well I got a nice royalty check for that. Just came through a few weeks ago.” He gestures at the paper in Wayne’s hands. “And this is for you.”
“Eddie this is… Jesus Christ. Ten thousand dollars? You can’t be serious?”
And Eddie is full on smiling now, grinning ear to ear. “I got thirty thousand.” He laughs. “I still can’t believe it.”
“Eddie, I can’t take this.”
“You can and you’re gonna.” He’s deadly serious now. “These come quarterly, this one’s the second. They’re getting bigger. Sales are growing, so, there’s more coming. And even if there wasn’t, doesn’t matter. I want you to have this—“
“No—“
“Wayne—“
“No!“
“Jesus Christ, you stubborn old fart. I have money now, which means we have money now. I’m not in LA busting my ass for me, I’m doing it for us! And this is the start. That truck should have been put out to pasture before I started high school. You’ve never had a vacation. I’ve never seen you spend a dollar on yourself.”
“Never needed anything.”
“How about wanting? You get to want, Wayne. You deserve to want. And how about not having to worry where the money’s coming from when the roof leaks, or the boiler breaks? I don’t want you to have to worry anymore.”
Wayne shakes his head, but the fight is leaving him. “Ed…” he says, a little choked. He reaches his hand across the table and Eddie grabs it.
“I love you, old man. I want you to have this. Please?”
“I’m so fucking proud of you, you know that? Even before this,” he waves the check in the air. “I’ve always been proud of you.”
“I know. So, you going to take it? Get a new fucking truck?”
Eddie can see the pride on his uncle’s face, but he doesn’t need to; he’s always known. Always felt it.
Wayne squeezes Eddie’s hand, still looking a little shell shocked but smiling. Happy.
Thinking of childhood best friends steddie who always have sleepovers at Eddie’s place, despite having more space at Steve’s, because Steve feels safer there. Wayne is one of the only safe adults either of them know. So when they freak themselves out watching a horror movie they climb into the bed with Wayne and cuddle up next to him, safe in the knowledge that nothing can happen to them with Wayne around.
Wayne wakes up to find two limpets clinging to him, both sound asleep <3
Thinking about Stevie and Eddie getting together, and making Wayne suspicious with the unrealistic amount of “girls nights” they keep having. It’s to the point where Stevie practically lives with them. He’s not stupid, so he knows what’s what pretty fast, and he endeavours to be the most accepting uncle his niece and her girl could ever wish for. Even if that means giving the most awkward, confusing, only semi-informative talk about safe lesbian sex that the world has ever seen.
(The only other gay person he knows is Scott Clarke, who, it turns out, does not have a wealth of knowledge about how sex between women works, but he does his best to help Wayne find out<3)
Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson | Found Family | Love | POV Wayne Munson | 1682 words
"Do you think they'll ever figure their shit out?" Hopper grumbles and takes another sip from his beer.
"Oh, I'm sure they will."
"Wish I had your patience. I'm always like, seconds away from bumping their heads together to make them stop their stupid dancing around each other."
Wayne smirks, turning his head to Hopper where the two men are seated on the porch overlooking the backyard. Jim, with a frown on his face, looks at Steve who's sitting on the grass, watching Eddie and Dustin run around like the maniacs they are. Steve’s eyes are drawn to the older boy, following his every move with a soft and longing gaze. The smile and light blush painting his face do nothing to hide the obvious.
Wayne and Jim have been waiting for ages now, for the boys to come forward. To accept and admit to the undeniable fact. They've been talking a lot, bonding over the mutual wish for their boys' happiness.
It's been weeks and they could barely keep themselves from turning their late-night scheming into action.
They've gotta do it in their own terms, Wayne always told Jim in the end. And no matter how frustrating it was to watch the painful pining and not to interfere - it was the right thing to do after all.
Because what Hopper doesn't know, is that this morning Wayne came back from his night shift and found Eddie and Steve sitting in the kitchen, holding hands over the table top. When they noticed Wayne, they didn't shy away, didn't let go, just kept looking at each other with literal stars in their eyes. And Wayne just sat down next to them, giving them an approving nod and a small smile before reaching for the pile of pancakes in the middle of the table, joining their conversation about anything and nothing at all.
Which, he has to admit to himself, is kind of a big deal.
He hadn’t been brought up to be open-minded like that, hadn’t been taught to be accepting of this kind of ungodly behaviour. And when he first found out that Eddie was – What’s the word again? Bisexual? – he sure struggled to come to terms with that. But soon enough he realised, that this could never change the way he cares for Eddie. That nothing in the world could ever get him to stop loving the boy that might not be his son, biologically, but certainly feels like his own. That it is easy to accept two boys being in love when all Wayne ever wanted was for Eddie to be happy and - there's no doubt about that - Steve is the one that makes him so.
Steve, who wouldn't leave his son's side after the world almost ended. Who cared for him. Who looks at him like he's the most precious thing on earth. Steve, who, despite his family’s name and all the baggage that comes with it, is one of the nicest young men Wayne’s ever got to meet. He is a good guy, someone who cares deeply for the wellbeing of his people.
Wayne likes him a lot.
Almost as much as that fierce little red head from across the street. The one that just appeared in his life with the rest of ‘em. A whole bunch of people Wayne dares to call family now, too. The younger kids that helped save his son. The older ones, that would do anything to fight for what’s right. The parents that came along with the mob of teens, like Jim who’s become his best friend over time. Or Joyce, Hop’s lady, who always insists on having them all over for dinner at least once a week. The Sinclairs, Claudia Henderson, Karen Wheeler and even Ted in his weird, grumpy way... he has them all to thank for keeping his spirits up during what had been the hardest time of his life. And for keeping his son alive, in more ways than one.
Eddie has never been more content, never seemed happier in his life. And sure, everyone involved in their weirdly mixed and matched family pack plays a part in that. But Wayne knows that it is Steve who makes Eddie wake up each day with a smile on his face. That he’s the reason Eddie pushed through physical therapy like a champ. Steve is the one reason for his son not to give up if the nightmares are getting worse again, chasing him from his sleep into the daylight. When the walls feel to close, his chest feels too tight, and the world spins too fast.
Steve is Eddie’s light in the darkness.
Wayne has never seen love like that, the kind that's sickening sweet. The one that makes their eyes light up with desire and devotion. The one that, even hidden behind a friendly bump of shoulders or hushed words spoken, is obvious for everyone who cares enough to see.
Their boys are in love and it's everything him and Hopper could ever want for them. And to see their bond forming quite literally under their roofs fills Wayne with pride and warmth. To be able to provide a safe space for love like that to bloom is a gift he won’t ever take for granted.
Hopper’s voice abruptly takes him out of his thoughts.
"Do you see how they look at each other?! I swear, if they haven't kissed by the end of the evening, I'm going to lose it."
Wayne brings his own bottle back to his lips, has to force himself not to laugh.
"I'm gonna remind you of that when they actually do and you're freaking out about it."
Jim acts offended, mumbles something under his moustache and empties his bottle.
Wayne stands up, turns, wants to grab Hop and himself another beer when Jim's eyes suddenly grow impossibly wide and he nearly drops the empty bottle handed to Wayne.
Wayne doesn't really need to look over his shoulder to know why Hopper's eyes look like they're about to fall out of his head but he does it anyway.
He sees Eddie, standing opposite Steve. His boy's arms tightly wrapped around the other's waist, Steve’s arms slung around Eddie’s neck, their faces mere inches apart. They are a little out of breath and laughing at something funny that must’ve occurred while he wasn’t looking.
And then it happens.
Time seems to stop when their giggling suddenly dies down and they just stare at each other for a moment. Wayne thinks he can hear electricity crackling in the air, can feel a warm summer breeze twirling around them. It's a beautiful evening, the setting summer sun painting the sky in dark orange and red. There's a bird singing its song somewhere in the distance.
The moment is perfect. Like, picture book perfect.
Wayne feels like an intruder when his boy finally leans in, connecting his lips with Steve's but he's too caught in the moment to look away.
They kiss and Wayne smiles, thanks a god he doesn’t really believe in anymore for this blessing.
Dustin squeals out a loud and distracting 'Hell yeah!'.
Hopper gasps, slaps a hand to his knee, and Wayne thinks he can hear him punch out a relieved 'Finally!' under his breath.
The back door creaks and when Wayne turns to Joyce standing in the frame he thinks he can see a tear glistening in her eye, knows it’s a happy one because she looks fondly at the sight in front of her.
Behind her, Jane and Will push their way through the door, curious as to what’s going on and Will-
Wayne can see it in his eyes. Can see it in the way he looks at the two older boys kissing, the way his whole face lights up and his shoulders drop; the way it seems like the weight of the world has just been taken off his body.
And again it makes his chest swell with pride to be part of a family like this. Where the people are kind and accepting. Where a boy like Will can grow up to become whatever he damn well pleases, without fear. With people to lean on and to look up to.
Where there is so much love to be found in the simplest things – a gentle hand on the shoulder, an affirmative smile, two gruff men spending their evenings plotting how to intervene in their kids’ affairs, a homemade apple pie delivered to your front door just because, a warm hug, shared memories of summer evenings spent together...
Two boys kissing. Unashamed. Unafraid. Alive.
Wayne takes a deep breath, the tranquil moment passes, and when Steve and Eddie part, everything goes back to normal like nothing has happened.
He looks at Eddie, sees him smiling back at him, mouthing a silent ‘Thank you’ in his direction.
‘No, thank YOU.’, Wayne mouths back, tapping his chest twice with his hand right above where his heart is overflowing with gratitude and love.
“Okay, old man. Guess it’s time to have the talk.” Jim’s hand lands heavy on his shoulder and when Wayne turns to look at him, he sees a familiar, mischievous glimmer in the other man’s eyes.
He’s been looking forward to the moment he could finally give Eddie his speech about not even daring to think about hurting Steve because ‘I know people. You know the kind of people I know. Better not fuck this up, Munson.’
Wayne already feels a little sorry for Eddie. But they all know that Hop is just a big ol’ teddy bear. Loves to make a lot of fuzz and noise but has actually a heart of gold.
And maybe Wayne will return the favour and remind Steve that he knows how to handle a gun. Just in case. Not that he has any doubt that Steve would rather cut off his own leg than to hurt Eddie in any way but-
(I'm tired of updating the link list on every post whenever I put up a new chapter. 🥲 Here's a link to my "Steddie Blackmail Fic" tag instead.)
Summary:
He doesn’t buy that Steve had ‘forgotten’ he was supposed to go over to Robin’s tonight, and it’s weird that he cooked a meal that he didn’t even stay for.
The guy didn’t have to do that. They could’ve ordered a pizza or something.
They are going to kiss in part 42 or so help me.
Anyway, enjoy Wayne calling Eddie tf out and Eddie is just like,
34.
“Nice of Steve to make dinner even though he had other plans,” Wayne says.
“Yeah,” Eddie mumbles, dragging a piece of garlic bread through some of the orange-y red sauce on his plate. He doesn’t buy that Steve had ‘forgotten’ he was supposed to go over to Robin’s tonight, and it’s weird that he cooked a meal that he didn’t even stay for.
The guy didn’t have to do that. They could’ve ordered a pizza or something.
His uncle sighs and spears another bite of pasta with his fork. “Ed, are you going to quit finger painting with your food, or are you gonna say what’s on your mind?”
“No,” Eddie scoffs.
“Your sides hurting?”
“No.”
Wayne gives him a Look. “Is it about Steve?”
“Jesus H. Christ.” Eddie drops the garlic bread and scrubs both hands across his face, getting his cheek greasy in the process. “Yeah, fine, I think he’s avoiding me.”
“This got anything to do with why you look like a puppy that tracked shit in the house around him?” Wayne frowns. “I thought you talked to him about that money.”
“I did,” Eddie grumbles. He’d also talked to himself about killing the crush before it got any worse, for all the good that had done him. “I told you, we agreed that he could move in and we’d call it even, it’s fine. He's . . . a busy guy.”
Translation: too good to spend one on one time with Eddie. Which, truce or no truce, Eddie morosely figures he deserves.
Things like this have been happening ever since the Hellfire rising seniors and alumni came to the house a few days ago. Eddie hopes that he hadn’t overheard some of the guys’ King Steve comments.
But . . . the only other explanation he can think of is that Steve is going on dates. And the way Eddie’s stomach twists whenever he contemplates that possibility tells him that he’s done a terrible job of weeding out that crush.
Is it just a crush when it’s on someone who has literally saved your life?
Fuck. Oooooh fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck, it’s not a crush. It’s so much more than a crush, when the fuck did that happen?
He’s falling in love with Steve Harrington. Not the one everyone in Hawkins knows from school, but the Steve who helps him hang band posters and bakes amazing chocolate chip cookies. Who painted his own bedroom a soft, buttery yellow after admitting that he’d always hated the wallpaper his mom picked out for him when he was little. Who gave away basically all his paycheck for months trying to give a sad story a happy ending, and keeps playing the tank for a bunch of kids who can’t seem to shake their dangerous adventuring habit even away from the D&D table.
Who will never like him back, because Steve is good and Eddie is a human cockroach. Even though sometimes, sometimes, Eddie almost thinks. . . . But that’s just from looking through hopeful, falling-in-love goggles. Jesus H. Christ, Eddie thinks as he feels Wayne’s questioning gaze still on him, he should have realized how utterly gone he is for Steve much, much earlier than this.
steve wouldn't admit it to anyone, least of all eddie, but wayne munson intimidated the hell out of him.
despite going through all the shit he's gone through over the past three years, mr. munson still had this ability to stare right through to his core and make him squirm, like just being in his prescence was a nuisance.
not that he ever actually said anything that would make steve think that; he was actually pretty welcoming, in that 'silence says more than words' type of way certain men of labor exude. when steve met him for the first time outside eddie's hospital room, wayne didn't say a thing. just a nod of the head, a solid pat on the shoulder, and that was that. no words of gratitude necessary.
it was a different type of silence from his own father. where being quiet meant he was just thinking of a laundary list of grievances he can unload on steve the moment they were were alone and away from gossping housewives. wayne, in contrast, kept his thoughts to himself, always pensive and considering , rather than the cold sneer mr. harrington has perfected over time.
truth be told, steve thought he would get the long awaited earful from wayne when he and eddie told him of their relationship. but eddie's uncle continued to surprise him, merely giving a pointed look at eddie's direction. a small questioning grunt. and eddie smiled back, so wide and full of joy, steve wanted to put it in a jar and drink it till he drowned.
"yeah, uncle wayne. never been more sure of anything in my life." and then turned his head, kissed steve's cheek with the wettest smack known to man.
"ugh! dude!" steve grimaced, as he wiped his cheek with his shoulder. not really all that grossed out but more concerned on how wayne would react to such a blatant display of affection.
wayne shook his head, fond in that way that this sort of hijinks was of no suprise to him.
"just be careful." was all he said. steve couldn't tell who wayne had aimed that at, so he nodded anyway.
weeks go by, and steve starts spending more and more time at eddie and wayne's newly renovated catskills bungalow, courtesy of a guilty government shadow department.
regardless of the way wayne handled their announcement, steve tries his best not to be left alone with the man for too long. he knows, logically, it's silly to avoid a man that has so much love for eddie, has shown time and time again that he wasn't bothered by eddie's preferences.
there's still that fear of being a disappointment. steve wasn't sure he'd be able to face either of them if wayne ever disapproved of him. he wonders daily if he'd have the strength to fight against wayne's objections, in a scenario where steve does inevitably fuck up. the thought of it makes his stomach queasy, so he pushes it back to the dredges of his mind and makes sure to always have eddie in the room as a buffer.
so he was paralyzed when he walked into the munson home, calling out for eddie only to find wayne munson sitting on the couch, idly watching tv.
"he'll be back," wayne says, in lieu of a greeting, "had to run to the store. close that door, you'll let the flies in."
steve was already stepping back onto the front stoop, "uh, yeah, okay. i'll come back--" "sit down, boy. no use for you to wait out there in this heat."
he was actually planning on waiting in his car but the look wayne munson was giving him didn't leave much room for argument. slowly, he closes the door behind him and creeps over to the couch.
canned laughter on the television set was the only thing to break the quiet.
a long exhale deafened the room.
"you're squirrlier than a cat in a roomful of rocking chairs, kid. have half a mind to think i might be the reason," wayne said, startling steve so hard. he gets a crick in his neck, whipping over to look at him. steve hisses, rubbing at the aching muscles and clears his throat, "um, sorry, no, not at all, sir."
there's that look again. the one that makes steve feel like he's being cracked open and every insecurity open for inspection.
"you're a terrible liar, y'know. s'what i like 'bout ya. honest to a fault."
steve's face heats up. whether it's because he got caught or because it's the first time wayne ever complimented him, he wasn't quite sure.
"well go on. i ain't no mind reader, m'curious. heard from your little shadows how brave and impulsive you can be in the face of danger. i can't be the scariest thing you've faced before."
they never told wayne the entire story of the upside down, but eddie says they didn't have to. smart, paranoid man like him can take a few guesses and get pretty darn close.
"i'm not...scared of you, sir, i promise. i actually admire you a lot."
wayne tips his head, "honored." and damn if he didn't sound sincere. the receding blush came back full force. he clears his throat, continuing, "i. i'm sorry. i guess i'm--um. pushing back the inevitable?"
"which is?"
steve fights the urge to fold his arms across his chest, hands clenched to the sides of his lap. he shrugs, wincing since his neck is still sore from the jerky movement earlier.
"a warning? something like, "you break my boy's heart, i'll break your face," sort of thing." he deepened his voice to copy wayne's timbre but didn't try to do the accent, he was never very good at it. much prefers to hear eddie's drawl than the caricature of his own attempts.
wayne chuffs, like the sound of an old truck on its last legs but still holding onto life. his lips upturn a touch, a ghost of smile as he stares ahead at the tv. neither one was paying much attention to it at this point but refused to look away.
"welp. i'll be honest. i did think of doing that whole, shovel talk routine. fastest i ever threw an idea away."
steve didn't whip his head as fast as before, but it was a near thing. the older man was looking down at his beer can now, that same complative look on his face again, the one steve was so worried that he was thinking of ways to prove steve's unworthiness of his one and only nephew.
"eddie, he's...he's a dreamer. talks big about becoming a rockstar, carving up stories about magic and heroes. but he ain't no idealist when it comes to people. he's real good at pretending to show people all his cards only to have a dozen more close to his chest. he don't trust easy, my eddie.
i'll tell ya, when he first came to live with me, i mistook his easy smiles for feeling safe and secure. it took me a lot longer that i'd like to admit to realize that it was his way of protecting himself. testing the waters, making sure i wasn't the type to scold him for showing any face other than happy. my brother did a real number on him, the sonuvabitch."
he took a long drink and steve held his breath, waiting for him to continue. it's the longest he's ever heard wayne munson speak, he wasn't going to take it for granted. plus, he could imagine it. little eddie using a smile to hide his hurt, his fear. it made steve ache.
wayne sniffed, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, "he's a judgemental little bastard, i'll tell you what." they both chuckled, the insult completely tender and fond sounding.
"it takes a lot for eddie to warm up to people. to show the cards he hides in his front pocket. so when i saw you and those other two girls, huddled around his hospital bed, eddie crying in front of y'all, i knew you had done something mighty impressive to gain his trust so fast."
this time, wayne does turn his head to look straight on at steve again. "i don't need to give you that kind of talk because i know you won't do anything to hurt him on purpose. because eddie chose you. you'll have your spats, some minor, some major, you'll hurt each others feelings because that's just the way relationships are. but i'll bet this house and everything in it, that you'll fight tooth and nail for eddie."
steve founds himself nodding subconsciously, his nose starting to burn.
"i trust eddie. so if eddie trusts you, so do i. that's all there is to it. you hear me, son?"
the nodding is more purposeful now, turning away to pinch the bridge of his nose before steve embarrasses himself any further.
he clears his throat again, a couple of times actually before speaking. "thank you. for trusting me, sir."
wayne waves him off with his empty beer can, "none of this sir, shit. it's wayne to you. if you really want to thank me, all i ask that you continue to love my boy with the same level he loves you. tough row to hoe, i know, but i reckon you got it in ya."
steve laughs, a little more watery than he meant it to be but exhilarant, nonetheless.
"as long as he'll have me, sir--i mean, wayne."
when eddie arrived back from the store, he was met with steve and wayne yelling at the television set as someone on the screen shouted 'touchdown!' he leaned on the doorway, an amused grin as he watched them admonish the sportscaster.
steve spots him and softens immediately, opening his arm up for eddie to come sit beside him.
"having fun?" eddie teased, settling up next to his boyfriend.
"yeah, we got caught up in the game. why didn't you tell me your uncle is a bears fan?"
eddie laughs, kisses steve's neck, and wraps arms around his waist. he looks over steve's head and says to wayne, "i was afraid this might happen. you better not be trying to steal my man, wayne. this will mean war."
"oh hush up, boy. s'nice to have another football fan in the family."
steve's eyes widened, dipping his chin to hide into eddie's shoulder.
"told you he liked you," eddie whispered into his hair, "believe me now?"
steve pulls back, looking up into the face of the man who entrusted him with his heart and kisses him soundly.
"yeah," he sighs against his lips, "i'm starting to."
