Gareth Emerson had no clue what the hell Eddie was thinking.
There was “adopting lost sheep” as he called it, and “being the nest baby birds needed before they fly” for some of the other poor, mid-year transfers, and all of Hellfire was used to both these adoptees.
People showed up, always looking a little hesitant, always a little careful, and all of them were welcomed until they found their place in Hawkin’s High.
This though? This was neither of those things.
No, what Eddie had done was taken a wolf, or a--fucking tiger, that had gotten hurt fighting other fucking tigers, and decided to keep it as a pet.
Even if said pet was looking very pathetic, with a face full of bruises that apparently, Billy Hargrove caused.
That did not make sitting across from the fallen King and current senior, Steve Harrington, any easier.
Judging by the rest of Hellfire’s constant uneasy glances and uncomfortable, awkward joking, no one else was comfortable with it either.
Except of course, for Eddie.
“Dude can we like, talk for a minute?” Gareth asked, motioning at Jeff and Grant to distract Harrington. Not that it was hard, the jock was too busy staring at his pathetic packed lunch to notice much.
(The guy brought soup to school and was drinking it cold. What the fuck.)
“Ga~ary.” Eddie sing-songed, but it was in warning.
A warning very much ignored, as Gareth stood, and moved to tug Eddie up with him.
“Now, Eddie.” He said, his own tone a manic, if suppressed version of his own warning.
Gareth was not known for keeping his temper, but he also wasn’t keen on getting his ass kicked this early in the day if Harrington took offense.
And considering they had all finally caught a look at Hargrove, and the way he fucking stopped and turned on his heel the second he saw Harrington, there was no doubt in Gareth’s mind that Harrington could kick his ass.
Even in his current, beaten to shit state.
Eddie huffed a dramatic breath, making sure at least some of his hair moved with it, but stood nonetheless.
“I’ll return shortly, friends!” He called jovially, before letting himself be dragged backwards several feet.
Just fair enough away where they could still see the table, but not be heard.
Particularly not by any invading jocks.
“What were you thinking!?” Gareth started, hands crossed over his chest tightly. “You didn’t even talk to us first!”
“Garebear, look at him.” Eddie said, placing both hands on his friend's face, turning it to look at Steve’s hunched form.
“Those big, sad, puppy-dog eyes.” Eddie continued, leaning in to whisper in Gareth’s ear. “The pathetic way he slouches.”
Eddie leaned even closer, lips tickling Gareth’s ear and making the latter swat at him.
He dropped his hands to Gareth’s shoulders, shaking him lightly.
“His giant empty house we can use for Hellfire meetings.”
“Is that seriously why you dragged him over here?” Gareth demanded, a little louder than he’d meant too, if Eddie’s abruptly tight grip was anything to go by.
“Of course not.” Eddie scoffed. “Rumor has it the guy throws money around for his friends and if we play our cards right, we can be the receiving end of that gravy train.”
Eddie grinned theatrically while he said it, staring into Gareth’s eyes like his smile alone would convince him to play along.
It was the fakest thing Gareth had ever seen on his best friends face.
“Don’t bullshit me man.” He said quietly, eyes narrowed. “What’s the actual reason you decided to go against your own doctrine and adopt Steve Harrington, of all people?”
Eddie’s eyes flicked to Harrington and back. “There’s no other--”
“Eddie.” Gareth snapped, a flash of his temper breaking through. “You’re my best friend. Don’t fucking lie to me like that.”
“Has anyone told you you’ve been using the word ‘fuck’ a lot, Gare?” Eddie muttered, but it was more subdued, the playful mask falling from his face.
As a matter of fact, Ms. Click had called him out on it that very morning, but Gareth knew better than to admit that and derail this conversation.
“Edwin Dale Munson.” Gareth growled, enjoying the way Eddie flinched from his full, government name.
“Sssh!” Eddie dropped his hands from Gareth’s shoulder to wave them in his face. “Fine, fine, look. Rumor has it he got cheated on, blew up his friendship with Hateful Hagan and Cocky Carol, and then took a beating from Hargrove. All in the same like, week.”
Eddie tugged at his hair, the movement harsh.
“I found him walking home in the dark the other day. Said something was wrong with his car, but Gareth.” Eddie paused, gnawing on his lower lip, before he stopped close once again, voice barely above a whisper.
“I had to coax him in my car and when he got in he kept flinching.”
“Flinching.” Gareth repeated.
“Like I was gonna hit him or something.” Eddie explained. “Worse Harrington’s house was dark when I got home. I mentioned to Wayne it didn’t look like anybody lived there and he said he was surprised anyone did. He thought the Harrington’s moved.”
“Okay.” Gareth said, not quiet following this part of the conversation.
“He thought they moved because some coworker of his wife worked for them as a house keeper or some shit. Said they bought a place in Chicago. She helped them pack.”
Another look, but this time Gareth had picked up on what was happening.
The flinching.
Not going with his parents.
Staying in Hawkins, when Harrington had a chance to get the hell out.
It didn’t paint a pretty picture.
“Shit.” Gareth said finally.
Eddie nodded. “Exactly.”
Together, they turned to stare at Harrington, who had hunched further into himself now that Eddie was gone from the table.
“If he turns on us I’m blaming you.” Gareth grumbled finally, and tried not to let the smile that broke out on Eddie’s face effect him.
“Glad to hear you’re on board, Garebear.” Eddie said, patting his shoulder hard.
“You’re a fucking teddy bear, you know that right?” Gareth continued as they turned to walk back to the table.
“Shut your mouth.” Eddie fired back.
“I don't think I will. In fact, Harrington!” Gareth spoke the jock’s name loudly, making the dude jerk and spill some of his soup.
Bruised eyes looked up at him and Gareth fired a smug right into Harrington’s face. “Wouldn’t you agree that Eddie here is a giant teddy bear?”
“Don’t answer that.” Eddie cut in, as Harrington blinked slowly, a puzzled look overtaking his face. “Gareth here has a big imagination.”
“Let the man give his own opinions. I’m sure he has some!”
Steve looked between them.
“I think I’ll plead the fifth.” He decided on.
“Smart man.” Jeff muttered, causing the rest of the table to snicker.
For the first time since he sat down, Gareth witnessed a small smile appear on Harrington’s face.
FIC WHERE THE FIRS CHAPTER IS STEVE THROWING UP IN CLASS POST BILLY BEAT DOWN AND EDDIE TAKES HIM TO THE NURSE’S OFFICE I THINK IT WAS GONNA TAKE A HELLFIRE ADOPTS STEVE APPROACH HELP IT HAD 50 CHAPTERS ON TUMBLR. I NEED IT. MY PHONE r CLOSED OUT OF TUMBLR AND I HAD ONLY READ THE FIRST CHAPTER AND I DIDNT GET A CHANCE TO LIKE IT TO SAVE IT HELPPPPPP.
EDIT: IT HAS BEEN FOUND
I just finished this first part of my Eddie adopting Steve in his senior year after his fall from grace and wanted to put it up.
Tag list o
Turns out being a mall rat was a lot more fun than it looked.
Or at least it was when Eddie wasn’t dragging them all into his new favorite hobby: salivating over Sailor Steve.
“This feels a little…” Gareth started, sitting at a table behind a massive, planted bush.
“Adventurous? James Bond-like?”
“Creepy.” He finished, as they all watched Steve do some kind of sarcastic looking dance at Robin.
“It’s the binoculars, man.” Jeff added, watching Eddie lean over the bush. “It’s too much.”
“He’s trying so hard to win her over.” Eddie raged on. “He’s like one of those birds looking for a mate, doing all these fancy moves and--and spins!”
He sniffed loudly, offended both at Steve and on his behalf. “We’re getting her fired.”
Jeff gave a long suffering look to the ceiling. “We’re not getting her fired.”
“If we get her fired,” Grant said, in that ‘thinking aloud’ tone he had, “Would Steve be the new manager?”
“We could get so much free ice cream.” Eddie wheedled at Jeff, who frowned back at him.
“Once again I find myself asking how I became your conscience.”
“If the shoe fits, Jiminy Cricket.”
Gareth and Grant cackled, as he returned to staring at his beloved ex-jock’s attempt to befriend (or flirt with, if one asked Eddie) what had to be the first woman who wanted nothing to do with him.
Sans Tiff, of course.
“As much fun as watching Steve work is, can we please go back to what we were actually supposed to be doing?” Jeff tapped on the spiral bound notebook he’d brought with him.
It held the words “potential song lyrics” and absolutely nothing else.
“Aww Jeffrey,” Gareth cooed, leaning forward on his elbows. “Did you really think that Eddie wanted to work on band stuff at the mall?”
“We’ve got to work on your gullibility.” Grant piled on, as Jeff made disgusted noises in response.
“No, I saw this coming. But we do need at least two more original songs to make an EP.” It was a goal they’d chased all year and spectacularly failed to achieve.
Frustrated, Jeff added; “I don’t care if Eddie’s not on board—you two are helping me write lyrics or I will derail every D&D campaign hereafter with petty arguments."
The unspoken truth was that Eddie, much like with D&D, was a control freak when it came to Corroded Coffin. It was his band, no matter who else was a founding member (Jeff), and the moment actual work began on anything, he’d be drawn in like a moth to a flame.
As expected, Eddie took the bait.
“You’re not choosing anything without me!” He barked, finally abandoning his Steve-stalking. He spun to face Jeff, eyes alight with challenge. “And for the record, I do have an idea.”
“Is it a real one?” Jeff asked, not bothering to look up from the notebook. “Or another round of dick-and-balls limericks?”
“How very dare you make fun of my genius, that was a legitimate song!”
“You rhymed balls with walls, and dicks with bricks--”
Eddie didn’t wait for him to finish. He snatched the notebook out of Jeff’s hands, earning a glare sharp enough to kill a lesser man. “No, this one’s serious! It’s a proper track, I swear, I-- I need a pen. Jeff.” He turned to his bandmate, desperation in his eyes. “Give me your pen.”
“No.”
“Je-eeeff--” Eddie began in a whine before Grant, rolling his eyes, decided to end the nonsense by tossing one his way.
“See? Grant loves me.” He muttered indignantly as he snatched the pen and hunched over the notebook, scribbling furiously.
Words—actual, coherent words—began appearing on the page, and Jeff wisely kept any retaliatory retorts to himself. There was always the slim chance that Eddie was actually taking this seriously.
The others followed suit, falling into a hopeful silence.
Corroded Coffin prided itself on being a collaborative effort, but there was no denying Eddie was the strongest songwriter in the group. When he got inspired—or decided to stop screwing around—he could churn out stuff that felt electric. Like it had a real future and the band with it.
That was what they lived for.
“There!” Eddie declared, triumphantly shoving the notebook back at Jeff, grin practically screaming creative genius at work. “It’s rough—just a few lines and a chorus—but it’s solid. A starting point.”
Jeff snatched it eagerly, scanning the page as Gareth and Grant leaned in, eyes locked on his face.
Would this be something raw and heavy, in the vein of the few solid tracks they’d hammered out before? Something loud, fast, and undeniably metal? Or had Eddie finally given into all his threats and written them a love song?
(Gareth honestly didn’t care if it was a love song. He’d been expecting one for a while, given Eddie’s increasingly ridiculous heart-eyes at Steve.)
Except Jeff’s expression was rapidly imploding. His brow furrowed, lips flattening, until he finally slapped the notebook down on the table and leveled Eddie with an incredulous stare.
“So?” Eddie asked, practically vibrating with excitement. “Thoughts?”
“We’re not writing a song about the You-Suck Board.” Jeff deadpanned.
Oh, for the love of—
“Absolutely not!” Gareth cut in, throwing up his hands. “We already hear enough about that stupid thing. I’m not singing about it!”
The infamous You-Suck Board had been a sore spot since its inception, mostly because it involved Robin gleefully encouraging Steve to flirt with every single eligible woman who walked into Scoops Ahoy.
That he was, for what had to be the first time in his life, bombing out, appeared to only be suspicious to everyone but Robin--and, somehow, Eddie.
(“Why did it have to be flirting!” He’d snarled on the day of its creation, as Gareth had struggled to keep himself from jumping ship and hurling himself away from Van Halen. “Why couldn’t they have taken bets on anything else!?”
“I think it’s more that Steve flirts a lot given how many chicks come in to get ice cream--” Jeff had not so helpfully added.
The turn Eddie took in retaliation nearly cracked his head against the window.
“She doesn’t need to be encouraging him!”
“You realize if you just talked to him like we told you too, he probably wouldn’t be flirting with every single women that--”
Eddie took another wild turn, tires squealing in protest. Gareth abandoned any pretense of being cool and latched onto the handlebar, cursing loudly.
“And ruin our fucking friendship?” Eddie spat, knuckles white on the wheel. “Yeah I don’t think so.”
If Gareth hadn’t been busy actively praying for his life, he might’ve exchanged a long-suffering look with Jeff.
Who, unfortunately for everyone involved, was far braver—or stupider—than anyone gave him credit for.
“You know,” Jeff began, his voice surprisingly even despite the chaos, “you can’t be mad at him for flirting if you’re not willing to make a move.”
The van screeched through another corner, tilting so sharply that Gareth was convinced two wheels had left the ground. He yelped, adding another string of curses to the air.
“You can’t be mad at me either!” Jeff’s voice climbed an octave as Eddie took his frustrations out on the accelerator.
I’m not mad. Do I look mad!?” Eddie said, rather madly.
“Yes!” Jeff and Gareth both chanted, before Jeff finally smacked hard at their eldest friend's shoulder.
“That is it, you have lost driving privileges, pull the fuck over--!”)
“I’m just saying--” Jeff was trying to argue in the present, only for Eddie promptly flung himself away from the table, before dramatically stepping atop it.
He cleared his throat as they all groaned at him, Gareth scrambling to get his shit out of the way before it got stepped on.
“I declare a mutiny!” Eddie declared, voice ringing out and startling several nearby shoppers. “Mutiny from my own beloved crew! My brothers in flesh and blood!”
“Oh God, here we go.” Gareth muttered as Grant swatted ineffectively at Eddie’s pant leg.
“Have I not led you into battle? Given you victory after victory in the realms of--” He stopped abruptly, a deer in headlights, before the dorkiest smile Gareth had ever seen overtook his face.
Now the groans were for different reasons--because clearly, Eddie had been spotted by Steve.
Sure enough, when Gareth peeked over the hedge, Steve was staring straight at them.
His face lit up as he gave a small wave, and Eddie, ever the hopeless fool, couldn’t help but wave back.
Witnessing this, Grant turned and leveled Gareth with a flat look. “This is pathetic. I am officially requesting that you do something.”
“What?" Gareth sputtered in response. "Me?”
“Yes, you.”
“Why not Jeff!?”
“Because I’m his assigned conscience. Grant,” Jeff jerked a thumb in his direction. “got the right’s to his creative side and you," The finger flicked back to Gareth, "get to tackle romance.”
“When did we all agree to this shit?!”
“Suck it up Emerson, the fates have decided. Now sort this out before one of them pushes the other over the edge and we end up caught in the crossfire.” Jeff gestured upwards at Eddie, who had tuned this entire conversation out in favor of trading faces with Steve.
Presently his tongue was out, hands up in his classic “horned” pose.
“This is just sad.” Jeff finished, knowing damn well Eddie wasn’t listening.
“How am I supposed to fix it!?” Gareth protested but it was weak. He had a feeling it was going to come down to this--Eddie, for all his supposed edges, sure as shit wouldn’t make a move and Steve…
Honestly, Gareth couldn’t quite get a read on Steve—or whether Steve even realized he occasionally flirted back with Eddie. The guy had a crush, there was no doubt in Gareth’s mind, but having one and acknowledging you had one were two very different ball games.
And Gareth sucked ass at sports.
“Figure it out.” Grant said helpfully, and got the finger in response.
He could handle this.
He just...
Needed a plan.
Things were easier with plans--right?
(Wrong.)
xXx
“There’s something seriously wrong with this mall’s security.” Eddie announced as he barged into Scoop’s the next day, Gareth on his heels.
Steve, who’d just finished slinging ice cream to a troop of Girl Scouts, didn’t even look up.
“What makes you say that?” He asked.
“Because there’s an insane number of them, but they only seem to guard the loading dock?” Gareth answered truthfully.
it was weird that there was tons of dudes with shifty eyes and bad hairdo’s running around outside the mall--and never inside of it. Like yes sure, product shipment and shit, he got that but…
Wasn’t loss prevention focused on preventing loss in the stores? Where people like say, himself and Eddie, could pocket it?
“It’s like they’re not even trying!” Eddie scoffed, as he proceeded to empty his pockets, lining up the day’s treasure on the counter. "The one guy we saw spent the whole time talking in Russian to a delivery driver."
That had been notable because Eddie had stolen something right in front of the guy, who had just turned away to avoid the obnoxious teenagers.
(And, of course, gone on to speak in a terrible Russian accent for several minutes afterward.)
They’d both stuck to small items--stickers, jewelry, and in Eddie’s case, an entire case of bouncy balls, but judging by the complete lack of reaction, Gareth had a feeling they could clear out the store and no one would even bat an eye.
It was odd, to say the least.
So was the fact that the construction company kept showing up to “fix” things. Massive semi trucks towing in materials with ‘Anodyne’ printed out in big ass letters along the side. Gareth and Eddie had spent a lunch watching one of the trucks load in, a literal swarm of people pulling out crates and sheets of metal down the largest service elevator Gareth had ever seen.
It didn’t make a lick of sense, but then, when did anything in Hawkins?
With a flourish, Eddie revealed his final treasure of the day. A button, with the words ‘Not a Prince, but I am Charming’ blazed across it in bright yellow lettering.
For you, Sailor." With an exaggerated bow and open palms, he presented it to Steve, his tone dripping with theatrical flair.
“Maybe securities just no match for you two.” Steve teased back, picking up the button and proudly pinning it to his shirt.
This caused Robin to snort loudly behind him.
She was given two different middle fingers in response.
Unfortunately, her normally sneering expression began to look dangerously contemplative the third or so time Eddie “adjusted” the button on Steve’s shirt, the two of them half slapping at each other over it and Gareth shot into damage control mode before the idiots outed themselves to her.
“Anyone else here yet?” Gareth asked, shoving at Eddie as he pretended to fight for countertop elbow space.
He was shoved back, but at least everyone seemed to get a clue, Eddie abandoning Steve’s button to slump on the counter in a way he knew Robin hated.
Steve made an obvious show of checking his watch. “Nope, but none of you freeloaders tend to show up for another hour anyway. You two are early.”
Eddie gasped, hand leaping to clutch at his chest, above his heart. ‘Steven! I know you didn’t just call me, one of your closest, bestest, friends, a freeloader!”
“You’re one of the worst offenders." Steve deadpanned. "Frankly you’d be number one if the dipshits weren’t constantly in here harassing me to let them sneak into the movies.”
Another loud gasp. “You’ve been letting the children sneak into movies and not us?”
He got a smirked at for his efforts. “You’d get caught.”
Playfully offended, Eddie’s mouth dropped open.
“And the loud shrieky one won’t!?”
“The loud shrieky one is controlled by Lucas and Max.”
“Such disrespect! After I bring you a present and everything!” Eddie sniffed. Robin was still watching them, Gareth noted, though this time it looked less confused and more like the expression on his parents face when they watched something weird happen on a nature documentary.
It was still too close for comfort.
Thankfully a proper distraction arrived, in the form of the rest of Hellfire.
“Guess who's working that new cookie kiosk?” Stewart announced as the group breezed in, saving Gareth from having to stomp on Eddie’s foot (or start a sprinkle war or any of the other ridiculous shit he’d had to pull the last few days.)
“James Heartfiend.“ Steve said flatly.
"It's Hetfield, which I know you know, just like I know you're mispronouncing D&D names on purpose." Eddie told him. “Which is a sin, I’ll have you know.”
“Would this be the same kind of sin as washing dishes or--”
“No--shut up Eds--Steve!” Stewart yelled over Eddie. “Guess again! Steve!”
"I know you didn't just tell me to shut up, Stewart--"
“Whatever you’re doing, Gary,” Jeff whispered as two different arguments broke out on top of each other, “do it faster.”
He didn’t have to specify what he meant, given how Eddie was blatantly competing for Steve’s attention.
“I’m trying.” Gareth hissed back, annoyed. “I don’t see you helping any!”
“He," Jeff pointed his head in Eddie’s direction, making it clear who he meant, "called me at 10pm last night because Steve finally got a You Rule point. He ranted me to sleep.”
“Well that’s not helping, is it?”
“It’s torture. I am being tortured.”
“That isn’t torture, Jeff. Torture is waking up to go on a jog with Steve only to have him derail every attempt at discussing relationships because you’re running wrong--”
“It’s Alex Copeland.” Tiff announced loudly, cutting off the increasingly loud conversation happening around them.
Silence abounded as everyone took the name in.
“I don’t know who that is.” Robin said cautiously, peering at Hellfire as if waiting for some grand reveal.
(She startled about three different people in doing so, Gareth included. They had got to get better at remembering when she was there.)
“Neither do we.” Jeff said as he abandoned Gareth to shoulder his way to the counter, throwing a handful of bills down on it as Grant groaned in the background.
Steve apparently, had been making ice cream while everyone was arguing, because Jeff’s usual order was handed right over in return.
The fucking overachiever.
“Honestly we don’t either.” Jeff admitted, as he began shoveling ice cream in his mouth. “Grant won’t let us see her.”
“He’s so embarrassed about it, it’s hilarious.” Gareth added, snatching up one of the free sample spoons and stealing a bite as payment for all the comments.
He was doing the best he could here, and given he had somehow been assigned the Herculean task of trying to get two of their closest friends to realize they liked each other, he figured Hellfire as a whole owed him.
Turns out it was pretty fucking hard to sit your good friend down for a “I know we kinda talked about it, but you do know you’re not straight, right?” conversation, and spinning it further into “also I think you have a crush on Eddie” downright impossible.
He made another go at Jeff’s ice cream.
Jeff turned, sticking up an elbow to block as he made a face. “Get your own!”
“Why bother when I can have yours?” Gareth countered, ducking around the offending elbow and moving to get back at the bowl.
The older teen turned again, resulting in a sort of dog-chasing-its-tail effect as Gareth continued to turn with him, the both of them spinning faster.
“We’re convinced it’s a fake name.” Tiffany added, completely ignoring her friend's shenanigans.
“It isn’t!” Grant protested far too loudly, blushing fire engine red.
“So who do we think it actually is?” Steve asked, catching onto the gag immediately.
“All we know is that it’s an older woman, who “is super sweet”,” Tiff made quotation marks with her fingers, “calls him hun, and has the photobooth gig as a part time job.”
“Okay…?”
“Joyce Byers.” Jeff said loudly, before snapping his teeth at Gareth's hands in a threat to bite.
Steve broke into laughter immediately.
“What.” He wheezed, nearly dropping the scooper he was playing with.
Grant moaned like a dying thing.
“See, our dear friend here had a small crush when he was a wee child…” Eddie started, with his usual flair.
“Which he denies to this day but he still gets all anxious if she’s around--” Gareth continued, undeterred by Jeff’s threats.
“Jonathan’s mom!?” Steve continued to wheeze, as if there was a different Joyce Byers running around.
"Lies!" Grant himself snapped. "Lies and--and slander!"
“Grant is a sucker for cougars.” Jeff said over his protests, still spinning.
“Oh, screw you Jeff!”
“Sorry but I can’t, Grant.” Jeff turned the other way, trying to trick Gareth out. “What would Miss Byers think?
“Gary,” Steve called out as Grant bit out more protests. “Stop pestering Jeff and come get your own.” He pulled out a bowl and shook it, just like you would to call a pet.
“I don’t have ice cream money!”
“I’m giving it to you, idiot.”
"Oh. Thanks!"
“You guys are so weird,” Robin interrupted, standing off to the side with her arms crossed, giving the same look teenagers on TV give when asked to do something gross.
Eddie beamed at her, to her clear disgust. “Damn right we are.”
She rolled her eyes. “Could you please go be weird elsewhere?”
Which was not the first time Robin had made that particular plea. It wouldn't be the last, either.
“Sorry Buckles,” Eddie said, leaning on the counter once again. “But Hellfire sticks together. You have one of us, you get all of us.”
Robin pondered that longer than Gareth thought was necessary, tilting her head in thought.
“So, if I fire Steve, does that mean I get rid of all of you?” she asked, challenging them.
Eddie tapped his finger to his chin. “Well…”
“No, no.” Steve directed the first to Eddie before spinning and stressing the second at Robin. “I need this job. No firing!”
“Pretty sure that's the manager's decision, Steve.” Grant teased, happy to throw him under the bus if it meant people stopped talking about Joyce Byers.
“She’s the assistant manager!”
“To a guy we have never met! And,” Eddie turned to Robin, as though expecting her to back him up, “as Lady Buckley just pointed out, we are here all the time. Therefore,”
He smacked the back of one hand into his palm, “I declare that there isn’t actually a manager and Robin can hire and fire as she likes!”
Steve was starting to look desperate, as though Robin might actually buy any of this nonsense.
“Eddie.”
“No firing.” Gareth cut in, as if he had any authority on the matter, digging happily into his ice cream.
"Fi-iine." Eddie grumbled, collapsing onto the counter with all the grace of a fallen deer. "Say, Stevie, could I possibly get some of that sweet, sweet free ice cream in mint flavor?"
Under his breath, Jeff told Gareth; "You don't deserve yours."
Gareth didn’t respond right away, his attention caught by Eddie poking at the ridiculous button he’d given Steve—and how Steve just... let him.
It made him think about how Steve used to be—and how, in many ways, he still was when it came to anyone in his space. How different he was now.
Steve wasn’t the kind of person to seek out touch, but the Steve they saw now was much closer to the one they had grown up with—without all the “King Steve” nonsense.
He was loud. Playfully rude. Just the other day, he slapped Grant on the shoulder in excitement about some basketball game and didn’t even seem to notice he'd done it.
Eddie had done that. Hellfire had helped, absolutely, but Steve wasn’t haunting Jeff’s house or Gareth’s garage, or Grant's basement bedroom. Off-shift, the guy could usually be found with Eddie, and if not, Eddie would always know where he was.
It was why Gareth had taken the approach of talking to Steve first, instead of pushing Eddie to confess.
If they messed this up...
It could blow up not just their friendship, but all of Hellfire’s with Steve.
And that wasn’t fair.
"No, I do." Gareth muttered, trying to push away the weight of all the ways this could go wrong. "I definitely do."
When it was all said and done, he deserved far more than free ice cream, and he fully intended to collect on that.
...If he could just get Steve and Eddie to make some progress first.
xXx
On a random Sunday (or if you were Gareth, on Attempt 15 of The Dating Talk) Dustin Henderson returned from camp, greatly annoyed about his friends but looking forward to seeing Steve.
Gareth would stare, with a look on his face that could only be described as “delighted” as the two of them proceeded to perform the dorkiest handshake on Earth, complete with lightsaber noises and Steve tragically dying at the end.
“Do not tell Eddie about that.” Steve would hiss, finger pointing threateningly in Gareth’s direction.
“Swear it on my life.” Gareth would reply--only after making eye contact with Robin.
She might be Eddie’s enemy at the moment, but he figured this was a solid way to win her over—especially with Steve so hell-bent on becoming her friend.
After all, he was here for yet another round of their never-ending “feelings” talk—not that he planned on having it in front of Robin, but rather to steal Steve away during his break (and maybe score a free lunch in the process). Getting on Robin's good side would mean fewer complaints from her about Gareth haunting Scoops—and about Gareth constantly pulling Steve away.
Too bad he’d failed once more, his frustration mounting as he made no absolutely zero progress.
(Steve, as it turned out, had an almost supernatural ability to detonate entire conversations, and he was presently using it for evil.
A carefully placed question here, a scoffing remark about elves there, and before Gareth knew it, the bastard had sidestepped every trap and sent them careening into uncharted territory. By the time Gareth noticed, Steve was long gone.
Pinning him down at work was becoming his only option, given the older teen couldn’t just up and vanish, but even that hadn’t exactly worked out today.
Thus, Dustin’s interruption had been appreciated.
Stewart's, on the other hand, wasn’t.)
“Steve!”
Robin glanced up, before making a face. “Oh look, here comes one of your little fanclub.”
“It’s not a fanclub, Robin."
“Yeah? Then why is he screaming your name?”
“She’s got you there.” Dustin told Steve, the traitor.
“Ste-eeve!”
Stewart was breathing hard, eyes shining as he slid to a stop in front of Scoop’s counter. With the excited air of someone who’d just scored the winning goal, he slammed a cylinder down on the counter.
One that glowed a familiar, sickening green color.
“Who sucks now!?” He bellowed, as if that part of the board had ever in any way shape or form applied to him.
“Motherfucker.” Steve cursed instead, staring at the thing in horror.
“Why Steven,” Dustin clucked his tongue with a grin. “Such uncouth language!”
“And in front of children too.” Robin added dryly.
Steve dropped his head to the counter while simultaneously raising his middle finger.
“I hate my life.” He moaned.
“No you don’t.” Eddie declared, announcing his presence by flinging Scoop’s window open with a bang! “Not when you’re a grand adventurer, setting sail on the ocean of flavor!”
Without picking up his head, Steve blindly grabbed a spoon and hurled it at him, striking the center of Eddie's forehead with perfect aim.
Gareth and Dustin both applauded.
“Munson we talked about this, you cannot be behind the counter let alone in the backroom!” Robin shrieked, hands going to support the You Suck board as it wobbled dangerously.
(It had been modified at some point the day prior, and was now split into thirds, reading “You Rule” “You Suck” and ‘Fountain”
Underneath ‘Fountain’ was three Xs and a poorly drawn skull.
“We really need to put a leash on him.” Tiff said when she first saw it, with the air of someone whose puppy had chewed through another shoe.
“We need to burn it.” Eddie had responded darkly, and then the topic of conversation was quickly changed before he could get another rant going.)
“Hate life later. Where did you find this?” Dustin asked, reaching out as if to grab the goo, and immediately getting his hand slapped down by Steve.
“Tell me it wasn’t in the water fountain.” He added, as Eddie walked himself to the front, Robin glaring daggers at him the entire time.
“What--no!” Offended, Stewart shrieked, as Steve batted Dustin’s away a second time and promptly ended up in a slap fight.
“How did you even know about the fountain you little shit, you haven’t even been here!” He continued, clutching at his home made plaid vest like a string of pearls.
“Legendary tales travel, Stuck Stewart.” Dustin told him, eyes narrowed in concentration as he ducked and dodged.
“Your betrayal is noted, Harrington.” Stewart snarled, correctly guessing exactly how that tale had traveled.
“Oh my God.” Dustin said suddenly, reaching out to snatch at Steve’s arm, halting him mid slap. He shook it wildly, a grin overtaking his face. “Oh my God!”
“What?” Gareth asked, because he wasn’t yet aware of what Dustin’s “I figured something out” song and dance meant yet.
“The weird code I was talking about! Steve, Steve-- I bet this is related!”
“No.” Steve said, hand ripping away from Dustin’s to slash wildly in the air. “Absolutely not.”
“Yes!” Dustin countered gleefully.
“You guys realize it’s not code, right?” Robin cut in. “The shitty noise you’ve been playing, super loudly by the way, in our breakroom for like two hours? Yeah, that's Russian.”
At their blank stares she deadpanned; “It’s a language.”
Like she thought the lot of them were stupid.
(Because she did.)
“And how do you know that?” Steve asked, and the same time Dustin spun to look at her and demanded;
“Do you speak Russian!?”
“No, but,” Robin gave them a slow, calculating smile, “I could.”
“She could.” Dustin repeated to Steve, practically beaming.
‘She could.’ Eddie mouthed sarcastically at Gareth, turning so only he and Stewart could see him do it.
Following Steve’s footsteps, Gareth threw a spoon at him.
(He missed but it was the thought that counts.)
“What we should do is give that,” Steve pointed a single, accusatory finger at the goo vial, “to Hopper and let him know we found it at the mall. Which is a super weird place for it to be.”
Which was true. Gareth honestly hoped this was another case of some kid or teenager finding and abandoning it, and not an indication that Starcourt was involved in the supposed clean up Hopper had swore was coming.
“If this is at the mall,” Stewart said hesitantly, “Then do you think that uh, other things, might have followed it?”
“Unlikely, the mall’s too busy.” Dustin dismissed easily.
Too easily, for Gareth—he’d watched that damn Manticore disappear into the wall. If it could move like that, it could just as easily hide itself, crowded mall or not.
“What other things?” Robin asked, before making a move like she was about to grab the goo. “What even is this, anyway?”
“Drugs.” Steve said, at the exact same time Dustin answered; “Nothing!”
They turned and glared at each other while Stewart carefully pulled the vial out of Robin’s reach.
(And then Eddie’s, when he looked like he might try and grab it too.)
“We’re not really sure what it is,” Gareth told Robin. Thinking quickly, he tacked on; “but we found some earlier and the cops were interested in it. They said they’re being careful after the whole thing last year.”
“Thing? Like the Hawkins lab thing? Where people died?” Robin was looking more alarmed by the minute. “This is an ice cream shop, we can't have that in here! ”
“Well no ones going to eat it.” Steve scoffed.
“Is that a challenge?” Eddie said with a grin, making grabby hands at the vial.
“One of those Girl Scouts was licking the table the other day, someone absolutely will!" Robin's voice grew in pitch and volume, eyes wide as she stared a the goo. "What if it melts things or blows up, or--”
“Hey--hey, calm down.” Steve soothed, turning on the Harrington charm full force. He reached out, putting a hand on Robin's shoulder. “If it was going to melt don’t you think it’d have gone through the container?”
Gareth watched it happen with a raised eyebrow--he more than anyone knew Steve didn’t often casually reach out to people like that. Logic said he was doing it because Buckley looked actually panicked and Steve was a fucking softie at heart but--
Logic also said that Eddie wouldn’t read it that way.
Sure enough, Gareth cut a glance towards his best friend and found him watching Steve soothe Robin’s fears with a stiff back, hands clenched at his sides.
(Ruh-roh.)
“Not if that's a special container, Dingus!”
“Maybe she’s right.” Eddie said, voice a touch off and oh, fuck, the jealous bastard was going to make things worse.
Gareth turned to him to give him a warning look, only for Eddie to lean around him entirely.
“Maybe this container is made from a rare metal and if we open it, it’ll chew right through the floor--or a hand, even.” He grinned, a nasty looking thing, before reaching towards the vial. “Only one way to find out…”
“Eds.” Steve admonished, sending him his own warning look as Robin shrieked out a curse and Stewart danced backwards, away from the group, goo vial in hand.
“We never did play with it.” Dustin said thoughtfully. “We should experiment, see if we can figure out what it is.”
Which was a far more terrifying sentence than anything Eddie could whip up, because unlike the older teen, Henderson meant it.
“Absolutely not!” Steve and Robin yelled at the same time, before casting surprised looks at each other.
Steve’s face broke into a smile, and for two entire seconds Robin’s looked like it might as well before she caught herself.
Eddie’s own smile sharpened in return, and Gareth groaned inwardly.
If Robin got into a relationship with Steve before he could properly intervene about all things Eddie, Hellfire was going to be in for a rough ride.
(He could already picture it.
Steve, lovestruck and oversharing in front of Eddie, leading to inevitable chaos for everyone else. The man could rival a PTA mom whose cookies were branded “fattening” when he got tangled up in a snit, and Steve dating anyone right now would cause problems--but Robin?
Who spent most of her time insulting him and Hellfire both?
Yeah.
Gareth would gladly suffer another character death in D&D than go through that.)
“Stewart, give it to Hopper.” Steve all but ordered, while Gareth and Eddie both catastrophized in different directions. “Dustin, let Robin listen to the stupid code. See if her oversized brain can figure it out.”
“Oversized?” Robin asked, though they could all tell she was still distracted by the way her eyes were glued to the glue.
“Oh I’m sorry,” Steve's hand went to his hips, cocking them sideways the way a gangster cocked his gun. “I thought you said you could translate Russian, but if you can’t…”
Robin went from fearful to offended in an instant.
“Shut up Dingus, of course I can!”
Which was the second time she’d used that nickname in as many minutes. Eddie’s expression darkened, a storm cloud of repressed rage encircling his head, and Gareth resisted the urge to duck for cover.
“I’ll take it to Hopper but only if someone comes.” Stewart said, seemingly oblivious to the cliff they were all hurtling towards. “That man is terrifying.”
Robin ignored him, sticking a hand out, palm facing upwards. “Give me the code."
Steve ignored him too, in favor of egging on his coworker. “Show her the recording, Dustin, let’s see the great Robin Buckley in action.” He taunted as Dustin dutifully handed over the tape recorder.
“Anyone...?” Stewart asked hesitantly, and Gareth made sure not to meet his gaze.
(He already had his hands full with the whole Steve-and-Eddie situation—he was not taking on Hopper too!)
“Guess I’ll go with Stewart then.” Eddie sniped, shoving himself off the counter. “Since you guys would rather play spy with the radio.”
His tone was cutting enough that Steve took notice, a frown flicking into life.
“What's got into him?” He asked Gareth, puzzled, as Eddie stormed off, loudly commanding Stewart to follow.
“No idea.” He lied. “Now about that code…”
If he kept them all focused on it, he figured, Dustin would hang around. That would in turn, successfully derail the majority of Steve’s stupid charms--to at least delay things enough that Gareth could pin him down to finally have a talk.
You know, if Steve finally let him do it.
(Steve did not let him do it.)
xXx
Gareth hadn’t believed it was humanly possible to learn a language that fast.
Robin Buckley, apparently, wasn’t anyone. After witnessing her rattle off full sentences with unnerving confidence, he decided he’d never question her abilities again—not for the rest of his natural life.
“I can’t speak it.” Robin corrected when she finally decoded the word they’d all been struggling over. “This is just a basic translation.”
“Yeah, but you actually understand it.” Steve said, clearly impressed. “You had most of the code translated in like, one shift.”
“It still doesn’t sound right though.” Dustin complained, staring at the white board they'd confiscated. “The week is long. The silver cat feeds when blue meets yellow in the west. A trip to China sounds nice if you tread lightly?”
“You’re forgetting the music.” Steve pointed out and was met by a chorus of groans.
“Yes, the one you’re convinced belongs to the toy horsie ride near the movie theater.” Dustin rolled his eyes, and Gareth rolled his own right along with him.
'Horsie.' Gareth mouthed at Steve, who mouthed it back with a grin.
Steve was this close to pulling them all towards the damn toy horse, Scoop’s be damned, but that would mean the stupid recording had been done at the mall--and what were the chances of that?
(“Honestly they’re pretty decent, Cerebro can pick up far away signals.” Henderson had started, when Steve first mentioned it, kicking off an entirely separate argument with Robin regarding radio wavelengths and other terms that flew over Gareth’s head.)
“It sounds exactly the same!” Steve protested, with all the conviction of a teenage boy who’d been wronged.
"The point I'm making," Dustin sassed back, "is that your translation sounds like nonsense." He turned to Robin accusingly. "Ergo, you probably translated it wrong."
Which almost sent them right back around to the start of the argument they’d been having all morning, but fortunately for Gareth's incoming headache, fate had other ideas.
“Does anyone else think Billy Hargrove has a screw loose?” The elder teen interrupted with his usual flair, popping up in Scoop’s like a Jack in the Box after sneaking through the door.
No one jumped this time, which appeared to disappoint him greatly.
“The entire high school I suspect. Maybe some teachers. Why?” Robin asked, because she’d grown comfortable with their fast changing screwball conversations.
Gareth thought she might even secretly enjoy some of them, not that he was going to call anyone's attention to that.
Regardless, he watched Eddie warily—this was the first time Eddie had come back to Scoop’s since storming off to take Stewart and the goo to Hopper.
Which he knew they had done, because Eddie had called him afterwards, frantic for a second opinion on whether Hopper had been threatening him, apologizing, or some odd mix of the two.
(“It sounded like he was reading from a script he couldn’t remember,” Eddie had whined. “And he kept insisting he wasn’t trying to growl at me, for some reason?”
“That’s fucking weird man.” Gareth said. “You think someone put him up to it?”
Eddie hesitated, then blurted out, "You don’t think Steve said something, do you?"
"I don’t think he and Steve are that close."
"God, I hope not." Gareth could almost hear the shiver in Eddie’s voice. "Can you imagine?"
He could, actually, but he wasn’t about to share that with Eddie.
Though, the thought of Steve in Scooby Doo pajamas was kind of hilarious…
“He's lifeguarding at the pool and he seems a bit more…” Eddie trailed off, clearly fishing for the right word. “Unhinged, than usual.”
“What does that even look like?” Dustin said with a snort. “Is he spitting fire? Did he finally grow horns?”
“Maybe he ate a child.” Gareth added, with a wiggle of his eyebrows.
Eddie was frowning though, instead of piling on. “He’s weird for sure.” He said, which was about as vague as he always got when it came to Billy Hargrove.
Gareth knew why. Hellfire’s fearless leader saw something of himself, or something he could have been, in Hargrove. It was that dumb little empathetic part of him that led him to being who he was--defender of nerds, king of the freaks.
A core part of him, that Gareth, and frankly all of Hellfire loved but…
Well.
Gareth had locked eyes with Hargrove once. Just passing by, in the hallways.
It felt like locking eyes with a crocodile. Power and violence wrapped up together in a way that felt instinctive--reactionary.
Not exactly something you could reason with.
Eddie saw him differently (saw everyone differently, by his very nature) but this felt an awful lot like playing with a wild animal. The only thing that determined whether you or someone else became dinner was who said animal noticed first.
“You can always ask Max, though Hargrove’s a sore spot for her.” Steve said. He too, Gareth realized, was eyeing Eddie. He had assumed their jock had brushed off the strange behavior from the other day, but maybe he was more perceptive than Gareth had given him credit for—at least when it came to Eddie.
Dustin looked distinctly uncomfortable.
“I wouldn’t ask Max about Billy.” He said, hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck. Very much a first for him, given his usual “charge in anyway” attitude, and thus very noticeable.
“He’s a dick, and he’s working.” Steve dismissed with a shrug. “Dude’s unhinged, yeah, but he has calmed down a bit.”
Gareth couldn’t have disagreed more. He’d finally gotten the real story behind the Hargrove-Harrington fight—none of the wild rumors like “Harrington tried to date Hargrove’s little sister” or “Hargrove and Harrington started a fight club."
Now he understood why Billy kept his distance from Steve, but even that uneasy not-quite-truce felt like it could snap at any moment.
(Eddie’s uncanny ability to sense when someone was dealing with something wasn’t exactly helpful in situations like this either.
His strange little internal radar for People In Distress was sharp enough that Gareth was sure Hargrove was grappling with some sort of issue—meaning Eddie, true to form, wouldn’t just leave it alone.
Eddie had always managed to wriggle free from whatever trouble he stumbled into, but this time? This time Gareth was uneasy—probably because Steve had once shown them the too-shiny scar along his hairline, a souvenir from his own run-in with Billy.
Steve was a fighter. A tank. A goddamn paladin. He could weather hits like that and somehow keep going, battered but alive.
Eddie…
Eddie wasn’t built the same. And Gareth had no desire to see just how far luck would stretch.)
“He still buys from me.” The man himself was saying, stubborn conviction coming to life. “I’ll talk to him.”
Steve was alarmed immediately.
“Could you at least take someone with you?” He asked, and Gareth gave it to him--the guy had learned fast that was better than attempting to ask Eddie to not go at all.
“To what? Help protect me against the scary mean jock? I’ll be fine.” Eddie stuck his tongue out to blow a raspberry. “Besides, bringing someone else means I couldn’t just cut and run if he gets uppity.”
Despite all clear and present stressors, the teasing had Steve visibly relaxing.
Apparently Eddie's snits were more obvious than even Gareth had realized.
“I’d love to see you, who I am pretty sure skipped all of PE class but definitely anything involving running, manage that.”
Eddie winked at him. “Trust me big boy, when it comes to my life, I can run.”
He trailed off and Gareth mentally filled in the rest.
(Not sane was a strong contender, though “Not all there” was equally likely.)
“Just be careful.” Steve finished.
Eddie grinned, before reaching out and booping him on the nose.
“Always am!”
“He’s not.” Gareth said truthfully, as Eddie wiggled his way out of the store. “But I’ll keep an eye on him.”
Steve touched the tip of his nose where Eddie booped it, looking both annoyed and slightly red about it.
“Thanks.” He muttered.
“For you?” Gareth teased, trying to lighten the mood. “Anytime.”
He sent his own, exaggerated wink Steve’s way and basked in the loud boos Robin and Dustin both gave him for it.
Bonus
In the wee morning hours of 9 AM, Gareth sat on the counter of Scoop’s and tiredly watched as a group of grim men walked by with some sort of construction material covered by a tarp.
The tarp had the words ANODYNE blazed across it--or would have, had someone not taken paint and changed it to “ANAL ONLY.”
(That person might have been Gareth, not that he’d ever tell.)
“So you know how you’ve taken to calling Eddie nicknames?” Gareth started, wondering if the key to all this was just being fast enough to say it before Steve could spin them off topic.
“Yeah?” Steve said.
“You know how you don’t call anyone else by a nickname?”
“I literally called you Gary five minutes ago.” Steve refuted. “Also I’m pretty sure Tiff’s full name isn’t, you know. Tiff.”
“I don’t mean those kinds of nicknames.”
He meant the fact that Steve had decided, after months of tolerating ‘Sunshine’ ‘Sunlight’ and various other variations Eddie came up around the word “sun” he’d finally given Eddie a special nickname of his own.
A cute one even, that had made Eddie blush when he’d first heard it.
“I’m not following.” Steve told him as he flung up the gate that stood guard over Scoop’s Ahoys' entrance, with a motion so smooth Gareth was briefly mad at him for accomplishing it.
Stupid athletes and their jock powers.
“You know damn well what I mean.” He said, exasperated with all the dodging.
Something Steve must have picked up on, because he sighed.
“If you haven’t noticed, Eddie's been kind of clingy lately. Octopus level clingy.” Steve told him as he finished setting up (and Gareth in turn, did absolutely nothing to help. Hey, he wasn't the one getting paid!)
He didn’t have much time—Robin was apparently opening, and Steve had only gotten there first because of his odd habit of going for morning runs. Since the two of them were determined to crack the stupid code today, Henderson would probably show up soon, too.
Gareth was only up this early out of a love for two friends that he better be thanked for at their wedding. He could be asleep right now but noooo--
“He’s been acting kinda weird, too." Steve continued. "He won’t say why, so I thought giving him a nickname back might make him happy.”
Before Gareth could dig into that, Steve picked up a towel and whipped it towards the younger teen.
“Now get off my counter, I don’t want to give Robin any reason to bitch at me today.”
Gareth leapt out of the way, mindful of the towel after the first time he learned how much the damn things hurt. “Do you really care what she thinks?”
It was an honest question--Gareth had a hard time getting a read on what, exactly, Steve was trying to accomplish with her.
He got where the You Rule/You Suck board had come from.
Understood how that ballooned into a game where Steve flirted--and greatly annoyed--every chick who waltzed past.
What he couldn’t understand was why Steve was working so hard to be nice to her. From every angle, it seemed like he was trying to win her over. If that’s what Steve wanted, then Gareth wasn’t about to get in the way, but…
He needed to stop flirting with Eddie, if that was the case. Needed to be told he was flirting, and that Eddie didn’t deserve it if Steve had no intention of following through.
Steve made a face, like he was trying to decipher his own emotions. “Kind of?”
And finally, Gareth had his opening.
He pounced.
“Do you like her?”
“As a person I do.”
Annoyed with the non-answer, Gareth was quick to lighten the noose. “And as a date?”
Steve wiped down the counter with the towel, once. Twice.
“Nah.” He admitted. He averted his gaze down into the endless rows of ice cream. “It’s not like that.”
“What’s it like then?” Gareth pressed.
Steve frowned, chewing on his bottom lip as he thought about the answer. Gareth let him, knowing he got like thi when he was actually thinking something through, and wanted to phrase it the right way.
Pity their time had run up.
“Harrington, what did I say about letting customers in here before we’re officially open!?” Robin snapped as she strode through the back doors, sending a glare Gareth’s way.
“Gary said he wanted to apply to work for us.” Steve returned, sending a downright evil smirk Gareth’s way. “So technically he’s not a customer.”
Robin stopped dead in her tracks to stare at them, eyes narrowed as she attempted to suss out if Steve was lying. “Really?”
“Absolutely not.” Gareth spat.
Then, as petty revenge for the denial of the answer he’d been chasing, tattled; “Also Steve forgot to check the walk in.”
Gareth!” Steve called, twisting the towel in his hands like a weapon.
“Sorry, not sorry!” Gareth chanted, bolting for the exit before the towel could strike.
It wasn’t the conversation he’d hoped for, but for the moment, Steve’s little confession felt like a small victory.
A place to start.
And that filled him with absolute glee—until he ran past the construction workers, hollering apologies when he nearly knocked one over (and almost sent the entire group toppling with him).
“My bad! He called over his shoulder, hearing shouts of “Idiot!” “Stupid boy!” and something that sounded suspiciously like Russian—
Which Gareth, of course, understood. He’d spent nearly as much time on the stupid code as Steve and Robin had, after all.
He skidded to a halt, his eyes widening as he looked back at the angry crew, noticing one of the Russian-speaking security guards Eddie had mocked was with them.
There was no way Steve’s wild theory about the code being recorded in the mall was true, except...
When you combined it with the goo vial Stewart had found and the music, it started to look like it might be.
Shoutout to @bloomingconflagration for the title!!! And a HUGE thank you to everyone who left comments or gave suggestions!! I love you all you amazing, silly humans <3 <3
There comes a time during a long work shift were your average overworked and underpaid employee starts to think they’re hallucinating.
In Gareth’s case, it was when Steve Harrington walked through the doors of Palace Arcade, making a beeline right for him.
“Gareth?” Steve asked, like he was the one out of place. “What are you doing here?”
As if people just randomly stood behind the counter of retail and entertainment spaces with a nametag on.
You know, for fun.
With a great deal of restraint, Gareth managed to hold the sass back, instead opting for a far more polite; ‘I work here, Harrington. What are you doing here?”
Because no matter how much Hellfire had adopted Steve into its fold, Gareth could just not see the guy choosing to spend his free time at the local arcade.
Not of his own free will, anyway.
“Pick up duty.” Steve said, proving him right not even a second later.
“Of what?” Gareth asked, puzzled, right before Steve’s name was shouted in stereo.
A miniature stampede took place as several children proceeded to swarm him like oversized puppies, most of them trying to talk at once.
“One at a time, we talked about this!” Steve barked, loud enough to be heard over the commotion. “You’re giving me and Gareth here a headache!”
He waved his hands in a “calm down” gesture, shaking his head and looking at Gareth in exasperation. “Probably giving the people in the video store next door one too, lord.”
“Wait.” A curly-haired kid said, looking between the two older teens like he was watching the laws of the universe rewrite themselves in front of him. “You know Gary? How?”
“We are not close enough for you to call me Gary.” Gareth said dryly, for what felt like the fifteenth time that day.
This was a regular battle between him and the kids who haunted the arcade.
(One had overheard Grant call him Gary the last time he was in, and ever since, every single child that graced this fine establishment with Cheeto-dusted fingers and candy-induced sugar rushes had decided to replace his actual name with his nickname.
The fact it clearly frustrated him only egged them on. )
“We go to school together Dustin,” Steve said, as if he were talking to someone particularly dense.
“Yeah? You go to school with lots of people. You bitch about most of them.” Dustin fired back.”Plus Gary’s a total nerd. I bet you call him names.”
"Hey, language!"
Gareth’s eyes narrowed as he glared down at the little fucker. He was definitely going to remember Dustin (and equally going to watch and see what arcade games the younger teen played-- and top the score chart of every single fucking one.
He might be a nerd but he wasn’t gonna take that shit from a middle schooler.)
“Hate to break it to you brats, but your babysitter here just joined our D&D club.” Gareth replied, if only to finally one-up the little bastards. “Our DM is building him a character as we speak.”
(Which wasn't even a lie. Eddie was building a character for Steve. The guy just refused to give any input on grounds that he "wasn't going to play anyways." )
Abrupt and sudden silence, as several stunned faces stared at him.
“Oh goddammit.” Harrington cursed, as the entire herd of children turned on him in unison like some kind of hivemind horror monster.
“You joined the D&D club,” Dustin said slowly, outraged. “And you let them make you a character sheet, but you won’t play with us!?”
“What the hell Steve!” The sporty-looking one whined, clearly hurt. “You won’t sit in on our games! You said they were lame!”
“They are lame.” Steve defended immediately, pushing at sporty-kids head. It was fond though, the kind of gentle shove an elder brother gave to a younger one. It caused the kid's camo banana to fall into his eyes, which he adjusted quickly with a grumble. “Turns out the high school version’s cooler.”
“He’s lying.” That from the bitchy one, whose arms were crossed over his chest, a glare on his face. “Steve probably paid Gary to say that”
Gareth had seen that exact same stance on Steve at lunch that day, and wondered if the little asshole knew who he was copying when he did it.
“Who cares about D&D?” This from the redhead, standing with another girl giggling in her ear. “I’m just amazed Steve has friends.”
“Really Mayfield?” Steve said, looking almost betrayed. As if he thought she was going to be the one to defend him in this weird little showdown.
The girl leaning on her giggled harder, making Mayfield grin (even if she tried to hide it.) She whispered something, which the redhead outright laughed at before repeating; “Adult friends even!”
“Okay.” Steve said, clearly cutting the kids off before they could embarrass him further. “Thank you, unwanted peanut gallery, for all of that lovely commentary. Now go back to playing the games you little shits robbed me of all my quarters for, or we’re leaving.”
Henderson’s eyes narrowed. “I thought you were here to pick us up?”
“Oh I’m sorry, did Jonathan magically appear behind me in the last five seconds?” Steve turned around pretending to search the parking lot through the windows. “No? Then I guess we’re still waiting. Unless you, Lucas and Max want to leave first.”
“You’re such an ass.” Dustin huffed, rolling his eyes. “Why aren’t you waiting in the car anyway?”
“It’s raining, it’s cold, and I thought I’d come in to say hi to my friend.” Steve replied, so quickly it took Gareth a moment to realize what Steve referred to him as.
He'd gotten the friend title before Eddie.
His best friend was going to fucking freak.
“Are you done drilling me or are you going to let Max kick your ass at DigDug again?”
“Shit!” Henderson cursed, spinning to intercept the redhead as she bent to put a coin in said arcade machine. “Max, you said you’d let me keep my leaderboard score today! Max!”
“I know you said you watched kids, but this wasn’t exactly what I was imagining.” Gareth said, slumping against the counter.
(He'd been thinking of Steve watching much younger kids for one, and two, he was starting to get the idea the babysitter thing was used as an insult.
Gareth knew a big brother vibe when he saw it.)
Steve gave him a tired look. “Me neither man. Me neither.”
Then; “You fucking owe me for that D&D comment, they’re never going to shut up about it now.”
Gareth winced. “Sorry. I was trying to help.”
Steve blew out a breath. “I know. I appreciate the attempt.”
Which was better than Steve bitching at him for it, not that he’d really ever done that to Gareth.
The two of them hadn’t quite worked up the nerve to be playful like that with each other, though they had occasionally jumped in on opposing sides to arguments Eddie caused. Gareth figured they’d get there in time, but even with all the progress Steve made, he still had more off days than on.
It was a fragile line to walk with him. Especially when there wasn’t a single member of Hellfire who wanted to ruin the progress they made.
(Even if half of them would never admit to it.)
“Steve?” A voice interrupted, quiet in a way that contrasted directly with how loud the rest of the brat pack was.
Steve closed his eyes for a moment, pinching the bridge of his nose with his hand as if to starve off a headache.
“Yes, Baby Byers?” He asked after a long, painful pause, turning to look at the saddest looking kid in the bunch.
“Is there actually a D&D club at the high school?”
The kid looked at Steve like he wasn’t entirely certain he wanted to hear the answer, but was hopeful for the outcome he wanted anyway.
It was the kind of thing that pulled even on Gareth’s heartstrings, and he was almost immune to anything involving giant, sad eyes after a solid year of working at the arcade.
(Never mind Eddie’s own puppy dog looks.)
Steve’s voice gentled, in a way Gareth had never quite heard him use before. “There is. You’d love it, it’s called Hellfire. I’m sure it’ll still be there next year when you come in as a freshman.”
He nudged him with his shoulder playfully, smiling when the younger boy perked up. “If you’re nice, Garebear here might even put in a good word for you.”
“Garebear?” Max repeated with a burst of laughter, appearing behind Steve like a fucking ghost. “Oh my god.”
“No.” Gareth said, bolting upright from his slouch as he stared at her in horror. “Do not call me that.”
“Sure thing, Garebear.” She outright cackled, as Steve sent him a wide-eyed, apologetic face.
“What did you just call Gary?” The sporty one--Lucas, asked, a wide grin overtaking his face.
“I swear to God.” Gareth threatened, as Steve took another dramatic look over his shoulder.
“Hey look Jonathan’s here!” He yelled, jerking a thumb over his shoulder as he started quickly walking backwards. “Come on, dipshits, we're leaving!”
“Bye Garebear!” Lucas and Max sang together, following after him.
“Harrington!” Gareth howled, as Steve mouthed ‘Sorry’ over his shoulder, all but bolting out the door.
“I like Garebear a lot better than Gary.” Another, random child informed him with a grin as he sauntered past, arcade tickets in hand.
Steve Harrington, Gareth decided, was a dead man.
Not even Eddie’s fucking crush on the guy could save him now.
xXx
“Did you know Harrington has a literal pack of kids he watches?” Gareth asked a few hours later, messing with his drum kit as he set up for band practice. "He even drives them around."
More than that though--he’d seemed almost normal around them. That was the most Gareth had seen the guy banter or act relaxed since Eddie had dragged him over.
“He’s mentioned it multiple times.” Grant replied, tuning his bass. “You have ears Gareth, use them.”
“Gareth? Listen?” Jeff teased as he dragged an amp into the garage. “I don’t think I’ll live to see the day.”
"Oh screw you guys.” Gareth growled, winging a drumstick toward his friends for the insult.
Grant, long used to Gareth's tantrums (and Eddie's dramatics) didn't look up from his bass.
Not even when the drumstick hit the wall with a bang!-- allll the way near the opposite end of the couch, entirely opposite of either him or Jeff.
"As usual, your aim is dead on." Jeff appraised sarcastically.
"Like I'd ever actually hit you." Gareth grumbled with a pout. "I was gonna say the kids are older than I expected."
He reached down, blindly fishing for another drumstick from the bucket of them next to his kit.
He came up empty.
"Hey Grantman." Gareth asked, tone changing to something mildly embarrassed. "Could I uh, could I get the drumstick back?"
He got a flat stare back. "No."
"What did I do to get stuck with such dramatic friends?" Jeff joked as he began moving all the amps he’d pulled in back into their usual places.
They hadn't had time to unload anything other than the drums after their last show and the regret was real.
"Eddie’s been standing on tables since seventh grade, you knew what you were getting into." Gareth fired back, making grabby hands for his drumstick.
"And you never grew out of being that dorky middle schooler who snuck into Hellfire games and screamed we were all going to die every time anyone made a bad play." Jeff shot back. "Yet here I am, once again wondering if I should just permanently confiscate Eddie's snacks, your drumsticks, and now Harrington's fricken spatula."
"One year. I am one year younger than you and you act like it's an entire century!" Gareth muttered, as Grant relented and leaned over to fetch said drumstick.
"We all know Eddie chucks food at people, but what'd Steve do with a spatula?" Grant asked as he tossed it back to Gareth.
He missed and nearly took out a cymbal in the process.
"He had a snit while we were making chocolate roulade cause it wouldn’t roll right. Flung the spatula around so much it splattered whip cream on his ceiling." Jeff shook his head as he finished hooking an amp up to his guitar. "I had to rescue it from him."
"His ceiling?" Gareth said in disbelief. "Wait, you were in Harrington’s kitchen?"
"Yeah?" Jeff looked up to find his friends staring at him.
Grant blinked. "The fuck?"
“Can we just play?” Jeff complained, just as embarrassed as Gareth had been.
“No.” Gareth said, retrieved drumstick nearly falling from his hands in shock. “You don’t get to casually drop that you went to Harrington’s house to help him bake and then try to get us to play right after!”
Jeff, who had done exactly that, blushed, skin darkening as he fiddled with his guitar.
“It wasn’t a big deal.” He said finally with a shrug, as if this was something he did all the time and not the groundbreaking revelation that it was.
“Did you meet his parents?” Grant said, sitting up from the couch. “What did his house look like?”
Jeff finally gave up the pretense of playing his instrument.
“I didn't, and it was kinda sad, actually.” He said, as if he didn’t live for this kind of shit.
Gareth knew better than anyone how much of a fricken gossip Jeff could be.
“His house was enormous. I only saw the first floor, and his kitchen is huge.” He set his hands apart at a good distance, showcasing just how large “huge” was, before continuing.
“But it was weird. It was like a model home. No pictures on the walls, no art, no personality to the place at all.”
“What are we talking about?” Eddie asked, finally returning to Gareth’s garage from where he’d been gathering up all the wires they’d thrown haphazardly into his van.
“Jeff went to Harrington’s house.” Grant and Gareth tattled as one.
“To help bake stuff for this Friday!” Jeff defended, the blush creeping back onto his face. “I was curious about his chocolate roulade recipe and he invited me over!”
“When was this?” Eddie asked, staring at Jeff like he’d grown a second head.
Or more likely, Gareth knew, in jealousy. But he wasn’t going to call Eddie out on that just yet.
“Yesterday. We got to talking about it in the parking lot after school.” Jeff said with an embarrassed shrug. “He said he wasn’t the best at explaining how to do things and that he’d rather show me instead.”
“Kinky.” Grant deadpanned, making Jeff sputter.
“You sure you didn’t see his bedroom, Jeff? It’s okay if you fell for the ‘wanna see my music collection’ line. We won’t judge you.” Gareth waggled his eyebrows, ducking with a laugh when Jeff went to whack him.
“Shut up, we just made the chocolate roulade!” Jeff’s ears were red now, and huh, maybe Eddie wasn’t the only person with a crush.
“Guys.” Eddie reprimanded, tone warning.
“Sorry Eds, you know we don’t mean it.” Gareth soothed. Of course, his best friend's anger was less about the gay comments or Steve’s reputation as Hawkin’s man whore than it was about Steve fucking Jeff (and not Eddie) but he had a feeling it wouldn’t be appreciated if he pointed that out either.
Eddie didn’t respond, eyes already back on Jeff. "Details, Jeffery, give us the details!"
He dropped onto the couch, flapping his hands at Jeff in his version of a "sit down" gesture.
Jeff sighed, but repeated what he'd just said for Eddie as he took a seat on the edge of an amp, placing his guitar down gently.
"I think Wayne was right. I don't think anyone else lives there but Steve. Not full-time anyway." He finished.
Which sounded like the best fucking thing ever until Gareth thought about it for more than two seconds.
Tried to imagine what his life would be like if his parents and siblings were gone. Not for a day, or even a weekend, but always.
How silent his normally loud house would be.
Thought instantly that he'd be inviting Eddie, his friends, and hell, l even Wayne, over as often as they could handle.
"The way he looked when I showed up, and how quiet he got when I left I just…" Jeff fiddled with his guitar’s strap. "I think he's lonely."
The four of them sat in silence for a long moment as they digested that.
“Hargrove kicked his ass right? And Byers?” Grant said finally, breaking the silence ad he stared up at the ceiling.
“Old news.” Eddie replied absently, jiggling his leg.
“You think his parents were around for that?” Grant continued, slowly.
No one answered outside of Eddie's leg loudly jiggling faster.
"Did you see the kids hug him or anything?"
"They're like thirteen. I seriously doubt they're pestering Steve for hugs." Gareth answered flatly.
"So he got his ass kicked, his parents are gone, he was supposed involved in that whole has leak thing…" Grant trailed off with an air of someone who expected the end of his sentence to be obvious.
“You’re doing that thing again where you think what you’re saying is obvious and its fucking not.” Eddie grumped. "Just spit it out."
His friend's head finally tipped back down from the ceiling, to face the rest of them. “Maybe the flinching is because no one ever touches him anymore unless it’s to kick his ass.”
“Oh.” Eddie blinked, body going rigid. “Oh shit.”
“That…would make sense. A lot of sense.” Jeff said slowly.
Grant put on a face that read “Duh” loud and clear.
“So what do we do about it?" Gareth asked after a moment.
"Touch him, obviously." Grant replied, like he couldn't believe the drummer was even asking.
Gareth and Eddie shared a look while Eddie rolled his eyes.
"The guy almost fell down the stairs last time I tried that." Gareth pointed out.
Never mind any other time Steve got weird over the lightest of touches. Eddie couldn't even clap the guy on the shoulder without getting major side-eye.
"No." Eddie cut in, sitting up suddenly. His eyes had gone bright, "We're going to trick him into it."
"We're going to trick Harrington into being okay with, what? Shoulder pats?" Gareth echoed, like Eddie might hear himself if his words were repeated back to him. “You realize how stupid that sounds right?"
"Shut up, listen. It's like getting a stray to trust you. You just gotta be calm and so obvious about it that they get confused and let it happen." Eddie had begun practically vibrating, causing his friends to trade uneasy glances.
They knew that look. Eddie only got it when he thought up a plan that was going to cause problems.
"Eddie, that makes zero sense." Jeff told him.
Gareth just shook his head, because only Eddie Munson could compare Hawkins golden boy with a fucking stray animal.
Even if the guy kinda acted like one sometimes.
"I just need an opening." Eddie continued, the little hamster wheel spinning in his head so fast the rest of the band could almost hear it.
If Gareth had been told two months ago he was going to be sitting in his garage, discussing the best way to acclimate Steve Harrington to casual touch, he’d have actually smacked whatever idiot dared spew such nonsense with his drumsticks.
"I did tell tell the kids today you were making him a D&D character." He said, before his best friend could truly go off on some half cocked plot.
Eddie lit up like a kid on Christmas. "Gary, I could kiss you."
Gareth made a face. "Please don't."
He clapped hard before springing to his feet. "Huddle up boys, I've got a plan."
"God help us all." Jeff muttered.
(He huddled up anyway, any thoughts of playing guitar that night fully forgotten.)
Bonus:
"Why don't you just get high and watch a movie with Steve? You're a fucking cling-on when you're high." Gareth complained the next morning, when Eddie swung by to pick him up for school.
Mostly because the plan Eddie had come up with was ridiculous.
Eddie took both hands off the wheel, pressing them against his chest in mock offense while he stared at Gareth and not at the street. “That would be taking advantage of him and I, as a gentleman, would never." He gasped, dramatically.
In his normal voice, he added: "Plus it doesn't count."
“Eyes on the road!” Gareth yelped, swatting an arm. “And you know I didn’t mean it like that. People relax more when they're high and maybe Steve needs something like that as an excuse to allow it. Hell he doesn’t even need to be high, just you.”
Which Gareth personally thought was a very insightful thing to say, so of course he had to ruin it with; “or whatever.”
"Do you recall how you kissed Jeff on the cheek when you were high and then spent the entire next month swearing up and down that you weren't attracted to men last summer?"
"That was different. I was discovering myself."
Eddie outright cackled. "Discovering yourself? What self help book did you pick that gem out of?"
"I was quoting you, you moron!" Gareth sputtered.
"If I said anything like that then I was definitely high and it just proves my point. Steve would just be uncomfortable."Eddie stuck his tongue out. "So there."
"Fine." Gareth sighed. "If we ever get high with Harrington, I'll sit in his lap."
Eddie's eye twitched. "No you will not."
Thrilled to have something to tease the elder metalhead about, a smile graced Gareth's face. "In fact, I'm calling dibs."
"You can't call dibs on a lap! And besides, you don't even like him like that!"
"So?" Gareth retorted. "It's a nice lap, looks comfortable. You don't want it, so I'll take it."
Eddie grit his teeth, grasping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles went white.
"I know what you're doing Gary. This is some bullshit reverse psychology shit and I will not be falling for it."
"Oh contraire, this is sibling bullshit, Munson. You want it, so I want it." Gareth crossed his arms and looked at Eddie smugly. "And unless you do something about it, I'm getting it."
Adopt a Jock Part One / Previous Part / Part 10.1 (you are here)
A03
Chapter 10 is complete and will be fully uploaded to A03 this weekend when I can get around holiday shenanigans. It's very long so tumblr gets it in parts. I'm sure I could make a Thanksgiving food pun there if I tried hard enough but alas I am not Steve nor Dustin.
Apparently, if you stumbled into supernatural shit, you were rewarded with a mountain of legal paperwork so absurdly thick that Gareth was almost positive it included a government-approved execution clause for anyone reckless enough to speak about things better left unsaid
So, here they were: barely a week past the lab incident, eating lunch, keeping their heads down, like their entire world hadn’t been turned upside down.
(He couldn’t even appreciate the pun.)
“She keeps looking over here.” Tiff’s pen tapped out a furious rhythm, her gaze fixed on one Nancy Wheeler, “And she’s been following us.”
“Well according to Steve she knows about--you know.” Gareth said, keeping things vague in hopes it would prevent any visits from men in black suits.
“I’m sure she just wants to talk.” Jeff said with a note of sympathy.
The fucking traitor.
“I’m sure we’re not allowed to talk.” Stewart muttered darkly, pushing his peas around his lunch tray with a fork.
“Only with people who don’t already know.” Grant tried to argue, and that rapidly dissolved into an argument regarding NDA’s and tricky legal language that Gareth tuned out in favor of his new found hobby--doing his level best not to think about anything beyond his lunch and what new D&D character he wanted to play.
His last one died in the prior game, and though Eddie had--weirdly and entirely out of character--offered to revive it, Gareth had waived him off.
They needed some normalcy right now, and if that came at the cost of Gareth’s beloved druid meeting her maker, then so be it.
Plus a new character was a great distraction.
(He was set on playing a noble elf known as ‘Gregg from Accounting’, but a second dwarf named Iron the Chef had been tempting…)
“She’s coming!” Tiffany hissed, slamming her pen down.
Mourning the loss of an easy, drama free lunch, Gareth sighed and prepared himself.
“Hi.” Nancy said, announcing her presence with quiet determination, books stacked in her arms and chin raised defiantly.
No one said a word back.
“Jonathan let me know what happened, and I wanted to say that I’m sorry you got pulled into all of this.” She paused, clearly thinking her words over, before adding; “Steve, Jonathan, and I used to practice.”
Nancy stopped again, this time blatantly waiting for one of them to say something.
She got more stares in return.
“Given that things sound a little open ended, and that there were injuries, I thought it might be good to start up again. Steve suggested if we do, you all should come too.” She finished, bulldozing right through her own awkwardness.
“Practice what?” Grant asked, confused and trying to cover it with suspicion.
“Defensive measures.” Nancy answered.
Seeing their unchanged blank stares, she gathered her books in one arm, formed a finger gun with her free hand, and mimed shooting in such a deadpan manner that Gareth almost burst into disbelieving laughter.
While he was haunted by visions of Nancy Wheeler holding a gun, Tiff loudly picked her pen back up, making enough noise that all eyes went to her.
“You beat my score on Mrs. Click’s practice test by two points.”
“Uh--yes?” Nancy said, blinking at her.
Tiff's eyes narrowed. “I’m kicking your ass on the final.”
Another dumbfounded blink.
“Okay?”
“Tiff’s coping, as are we--no…defensive measures necessary.” Jeff said, in a desperate bid to soothe things over, “We appreciate the offer.”
She nodded, seemingly placated by his response. “Actually, where is Steve? I wanted to talk to him too.” Nancy asked, changing topics with ease. “I haven’t seen him all day.”
“Ah-ha.” Tiff muttered under her breath, as if catching out what Nancy really wanted.
Stewart kicked her ankle.
“He’s with Eddie.” Grant said, covering the sound of their resulting scuffle.
“He’s been spending a lot of time with Eddie lately.” Nancy noted, in that same neutral tone the Feds spoke in. All fake nice without giving a single thing away.
It was a little terrifying.
“We all spend a lot of time with each other.” Tiffany shot back, hackles very much raised and not bothering to hide it. “We’re friends. That’s what friends do.”
“Man, we are vicious today!”
“She’s really sore about that grade.” Stewart covered, offering a sympathetic pat to Tiffany’s shoulder (who looked an awful lot like she was going to bite his hand for it).
Did Nancy Wheeler even know about the weird academic rivalry Tiff had with her? Gareth took one look at Tiff’s gritted teeth, and thought better of it.
“I wouldn't be if I was able to properly finish that essay,” Tiff motioned to the now hopelessly crumpled paper underneath her pen, “ instead of rushing it because I had to pull someone out of a lab--”
“Nancy’s right.” Jeff cut in, in another desperate attempt to distract them all from eating each other. “I haven't seen much of Steve or Eddie today.”
He turned expectantly to his right. “Gary?”
Gareth frowned back at him.
“Why would I know where they are?”
“Oh,” Stewart said, far too innocently. “You haven’t realized you’re their assigned zookeeper?”
Wadding up his napkin was second nature. So was launching it at his friend's head, who expertly (and unfortunately) dodged.
“So you’re saying you don’t know?” Grant asked, a smile creeping across his face.
Gareth opened his jacket, fishing around for a moment as if he was searching for something, before pulling his hand back to show off his extended middle finger.
Pity he actually had the answer.
“They’re in the drama room. Steve sweettalked Mr. Barns into letting them set up early for Hellfire’s game.” He grumbled, ruining the entire effect.
“See?” Stewart said smugly.
With deliberate slowness, Gareth raised up his other middle finger before waving them both in a circle.
“Fuck you, fuck you--”
“Not in your lifetime.” Tiffany answered, to multiple chortles.
“Don’t bother them, Wheeler.” Gareth continued, ignoring the assholes he called friends to turn back to Nancy. “They’re setting up for the Hellfire’s last game of the year and Ed’s is a little…obsessive about it.”
As in he was known to be a complete and utter terror in the days leading up to his grand finales but Gareth wasn’t telling her that.
These games were a big deal for Hellfire as a whole. Precious things they looked forward to and the finale game was something they often worked several months, if not a solid year, to reach.
This year's game had more riding on it than any one prior. Hellfire’s shared sanity, for example, and a shining piece of normality they all found themselves desperately needing.
(Plus the problem of Eddie flunking again--and not telling anyone.
See--Eddie had been touchy the first time he hadn’t graduated and even with the appearance of monsters and government lackeys, Gareth expected this year to be even worse--but the Steve of it all added a rather explosive emotional element.
“You still have most of Hellfire.” Gareth had pointed out, when he’d hitched a ride home a few days prior and found the paper declaring Eddie’s super senior year a lost cause. “You know you’ll still have them after they graduate too, right?”
“Because they’re going to be looking forward to their old pal Eddie while in college, sure.” Had been the clipped response.
“They will.” Gareth said, with a level of assurance he hoped Eddie could feel. “And if that’s the concern, then you’ll definitely still have Steve.”
Who hadn’t gotten into college, and openly admitted to refusing to try now that monsters were back.
“I guess.” Eddie had said, looking like a deflated party balloon.
In typical Munson fashion, he seemed to realize he was giving away more “real feelings” than he’d intended too, and changed the subject with an energy that Gareth knew was fake.
He hadn’t called him out on it though, and equally, he had not called out the mania Eddie had slowly been succumbing to since that fateful day. He’d get over it--Gareth knew he’d get over it--if they could just make it past the point where Eddie’s own brain informed him the world was ending to prove it.)
All of them deserved a break, and a place to put aside all the stupid shit and simply have a good time, and heading off Steve’s nosey ex-girlfriend before she could cause problems would go a long way to help.
“I’m sure they can spare two minutes.” Nancy was saying, mid creation of the exact problem Gareth was hoping to avoid.
“No--uh,” He flailed about for a reason she couldn’t, and the longer she frowned at him the more his brain simply vanished all forms of higher thought. “Don’t?”
Nancy’s expression soured, mouth twisting in a line Gareth very much did not like. “I’m sure they--”
“Tell us what other things you practice. Besides, you know. The pews.” He interrupted frantically.
Under the table his foot struck out, and though he had no idea who he’d struck he hoped whoever it was understood what exactly he was trying to do.
“The pews?” Nancy echoed, after a painfully long moment.
“You know? Pews!” Gareth mimed a gun, and then made “pew” noises while firing it.
Besides him, Jeff gave a very Harrington-like sigh.
(He’d been doing that a lot lately, Gareth made a mental note to mock him for it.)
“You cannot tell me you guys only practice with guns.” Tiffany huffed. She had not been the kicked party, but thankfully, hadn’t needed the nudge to catch on. “What happens if you run out of bullets?”
Nancy gave her an odd, almost calculating look.
“We use whatever else we have on hand.” She said flatly.
Which just boded so fucking well for the rest of this conversation (and Gareth’s life, given he was uncomfortably aware of the things that went bump in the night.)
“Well, give us an example.” Tiff continued, and given the now increasingly concerned looks that the rest of Hellfire was darting between her and Nancy, Gareth knew the rest of his idiots hadn’t caught on.
On a piece of paper he scrawled--and the underlined twice, for good measure;
‘Go. Find. Byers!’
--and then chucked it at Grant’s head. Who thankfully opened it, even if he made a face while doing so, before proceeding to pass the note around as Tiff and Nancy traded increasingly pointed words about weapons training.
“When you’re in a situation, you use whatever you have on hand. I would assume you knew this, given what I heard happened the other day.”
“Yes, but wouldn’t it make more sense to train and carry with backup weapons rather than just hoping you find something on the way? What if the--what if we’d been in the woods?”
Gareth watched the note travel from person to person, until it was dropped back in front of him.
‘You go find him.’ Someone had scrawled, followed by multitudes of doodles, two of which featured army-hat wearing dicks driving tanks.
Then and there, he decided that perhaps his friends truly did deserve death should a similar situation arise in the future.
Useless. They were all useless.
“You’re welcome to make a suggestion, Tiffany.”
“I will. I’ll make a list even.”
“Good.” Nancy smiled, with all her teeth.
“Fine.” Tiff returned, looking half feral.
Was this some type of weird mating ritual between academic types? God, they were scary.
‘Well, that definitely won’t come back to bite us in the ass.’ Gareth thought wryly as Nancy stormed off in the opposite direction of the drama room, tapping the note against the table. He glanced at the rest of the group, who appeared to be attempting to tempt Tiff out of her snit by way of asking her what dramatic bullshit she thought Eddie would be pulling in the finale.
If nothing else, he decided, they’d prevented ruining Eddie’s day--and possibly, their entire night.
Nothing, save more fucking monsters or equally evil government lackeys could manage that.
(Pity that Gareth had forgotten the third most powerful force on the planet when it came to wrecking plans.
Middle schoolers.)
xXx
The day had dragged but they'd made it, and Eddie in turn, had made that wait worth their while.
The lights in the drama room were low.
The entire table had been set up with such care and drama that Gareth almost couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Goblets lined both sides, each filled with a dark red liquid Gareth knew damn well could not be wine.
Candles--real ones, had been lit, casting shadows across Eddie’s face as he lounged in his throne, a master in their element.
A castle, meticulously crafted out of wooden sticks and painted a dark, forbidding gray towered in front of Eddie down at the end, with the layout of the insides crawling down the table atop carefully gridded paper.
Monstrous figurines stood in a row off to the side, like little soldiers, planted right in front of a plain, if not comically large, cardboard box.
It was elaborate, meticulous, and half the items had clearly been stolen from Steve’s house, if not outright decorated by the man’s own hand.
“Welcome, my friends.” Eddie purred, breaking the spell that had fallen over Hellfire.
“Oh my God.” Grant breathed, jostling Gareth’s shoulder as he pushed inside.
“Dude, you outdid yourself!” Stewart added, voice awed as he took it all in.
“He had help.” Steve confirmed, materializing at Eddie’s shoulder. He leaned forward, adjusting something in front of Eddie, ignoring the immediate angry swat and hissed warnings about “ruining the moment, Steven!”
“Glad to see you putting your mom’s party planning skills to good use.” Jeff teased, but no one missed the way he ran a hand down the table, staring giddily at the spread.
Steve gave him a shrug, but even in the dim light Gareth could see how pleased he looked.
It was magical, and Gareth felt something come alive in his chest that he’d privately thought the manticore had killed.
A childish sort of excitement, bubbling up as he realized he was about to have a damn fine time.
This, of course, is when the actual children came in.
“I made a timeline.” Dustin announced, shouldering his way in between Jeff and Grant to slam down a massive piece of paper.
“Oh my God where did you come from!?” Stewart yelped, started as more and more children suddenly swarmed Hellfire’s table.
“The middle school is literally next door. We walked.” Max rolled her eyes as she took a seat next to Tiffany. “What idiot let you guys light candles in here?”
El fell in right next to her, stealing what was clearly intended to be Grant’s chair.
Who looked like he’s about to say something about it until he caught sight of her delighted face.
Gareth would have laughed at the obvious way Grant’s shoulders slumped as he accepted his fate, if his own chair hadn’t just been usurped by Michael Wheeler.
“A timeline?” Steve asked, before Eddie could surge to his feet and kick the brats out.
(They all watched him jerk anyway, like he’d intended to do just that and barely caught himself.)
“Uh, everything?” Dustin scoffed, waving a beat up folder in the air. “We took it all the way back to when we first met El.”
Next to him, Lucas had stepped up to the table, running a hand down it in much the same way Jeff had. “We decided it might help us figure out where the manticore came from.” He said absently.
A riot of emotion exploded over Steve’s face, made all the funnier by the fact that it was entirely at odds with the setup he’d so lovingly created.
“I’m sorry, did we not hear the Chief of Police? He’s investigating this, our involvement is over.” Steve made a slashing motion with his hand, as if that would hold them all off.
(Gareth, who once watched all of these children fight each other over an arcade score for three consecutive days, knew it was a lost cause.)
Dustin made yet another scoffing sound in return.
Given how often he seemed to make them, Gareth wondered if he had problems with a sore throat.
“I thought we all widely agreed Hop’s investigation skills are terrible.”
“Hello?” Stewart said irritably. “We were about to get started?”
Eddie swung himself into a sitting position and made like he was going to stand up, likely to pounce on the opening Stewart had just given.
Pity Steve once again, beat him there.
“Yes, but he’s not investigating, is he? We,” Hellfire’s jock made another motion, this one a circular twirl of the hand. Gareth was starting to wonder if the gestures are directly linked to his stress level. “already did that part. He can now do the part he’s good at, which is fixing it.”
“He’s not good at fixing it, look at what happened with the demodogs!”
It was at this moment Gareth made his fatal mistake. In hindsight, he should have known better than to ask out loud,
“Okay, can someone please explain what the hell’s a demodog?”
Several protests, groans, and pencils are flung his way for it.
(“Do you know how often that word has been thrown around!?” He’d defend much, much later. “You guys keep saying it but not what they are!”
“If you stopped eavesdropping all the time maybe you wouldn’t be wondering about such things.” Eddie had responded snidely.
“It’s not my fault you keep talking about this shit when I’m right there you asshat--”)
“What, you didn’t think there were actually feral dogs in Hawkins did you?” One of the kids asks incredulously, like he can’t possibly believe anyone is so stupid as to buy into it.
“They were like the manticore, but small and more, well, doggish.” Dustin dismissed, this time with a Harrington flavored hand waive of his own. “Ask Steve, he was there.”
Gareth turned to do just that, D&D campaign be damned (He would not apologize for wanting to know what else might be out to kill them all even if the finale was technically on, sue him) to find Steve had slipped right into mother hen mode.
“No.” He spat, charging forward as he flapped his arms around, like the children are a flock of birds he can scare away. “You are not sucking anyone into this, and we are not getting involved! You heard Hop!”
Mike rolled his eyes. “Don’t be a coward, Steve.”
“I’m not a coward, I’m someone who doesn’t need another near death experience! There’s not a reward if you have five in a row, dickheads.”
Seething and not bothering to hide it, Eddie picked up the massive gold goblet in front of him and took an obnoxiously loud sip out of it.
“I’m also going to remind you that Henderson here,” Steve stopped behind Dustin to rattle his, “is going to camp in a few days? I believe the rest of you also have similar engagements.”
It was Mike’s turn to scoff.
“Lucas is only in summer school until 3 and camp doesn’t start for another two weeks. We have plenty of time!”
“It’s not summer school,” Lucas protested, eyes darting to Max and back as if she wasn’t aware the kid was a nerd. “It’s a creative writing program--”
“Yeah, well, the rest of us are busy.” Steve fired back. “So any theories you have, you can take and shove right up your ass.”
“Why is it always the ass with you Steve? Do you have an ass fixation?”
Gareth watched as Eddie immediately choked on the dyed Mountain Dew he had been chugging down, hacking so hard tears welled in his eyes.
Jeff shared a pained look with Gareth over the table as Grant pounded him on the back.
“I do not have an ass fixation, Henderson--”
“Okay.” Tiffany clapped her hands together, the sound ringing out throughout the drama room.
“Here’s the deal. Summer break is two days away. Steve is right--most of us here are working, if not preparing to go to college. No one needs to go snooping around where we aren’t wanted, and we definitely do not need anymore injuries. Kapeesh?”
Henderson immediately turned on her. “So we’re just gonna trust the guys who fucking started all this!?”
“Given they also have better ways of handling it, yes. We are. Hopper told them about Stewarts goo, they sent some suits in to kill the manticore, and thanks to El’s heads up we caught things ahead of time for once. Can’t we just enjoy that?” Steve was beyond worked up now, repeatedly running his hands through his hair, only to fix it, pick at it, and then repeat the process again. “For fucks sake Dustin, Eddie just stopped limping!”
“I don’t think it’s over.” Mike muttered angrily, pushing a finger against Tiffany’s water bottle.
She grabbed it before it toppled over, glaring at him.
“El, do you feel anything?” Steve spoke like he was invoking a god and not an undersocialized twelve year old.
“No.” She admitted, after a long almost uncomfortable pause. “I do not.”
Steve pointed at her victoriously. “There you go!”
“But--”
“No more buts!” Steve shrieked, before seemingly to realize he’d done so. He coughed, and then said; “I thought you dorks would be storming in here trying to get Eddie to DM for you, not harassing us about the Upside Down.”
“You guys are playing D&D?” Lucas asked, as if he hadn’t been salivating over the spread for the last five minutes.
“I really like your cleric.” Will said quietly to Jeff, having leaned over to look at his character sheet at some point during the argument.
“Will, aren’t you a Dungeon Boss?” Steve asked, to the horror of those around him. “Why don’t you go sit by Eddie, I’m sure you’d enjoy seeing how he does stuff.”
A wince rippled through the members of Hellfire.
There was simply no way Eddie Munson, a man known to be possessive at best, would ever allow any of them to even glance at his notebook, let alone his entire spread laid bare behind his screen.
Those were his secrets--the result of too many late nights and an easy contributor to his failing high school yet again--and this was the grand finale.
Steve sitting next to Eddie had been miraculous enough--and that was with Eddie actively demanding he sit there, in a vain attempt to drag Steve out of his issues.
Fearing the worst, Gareth snuck a glance at their glorious--and notoriously ridiculous--leader.
Eddie sucked on his teeth, the noise painfully loud in the abrupt silence, eyes on Byers the Younger before they drifted back to Steve.
Who clearly had no idea he’d put his foot in it.
Tiff looked ready to break a pencil, eyes glaring a hole in Eddie’s head as if daring him to disappoint the group's golden retriever while Grant, Jeff and Stewart had all magically found something else to look at.
Gareth himself hunkered down, waiting to see how this would play out.
One more painful, pulsing second and then Eddie seemed to come to a decision, rolling out his hand and gesturing Will closer.
“Indeed Baby Byers,” He dropped into one of his many DM voices, something deep but alluring. “come closer and learn from the master of masters. Perhaps you’ll find something here to take back to your own campaigns. Something truly…terrible.”
He waggled his eyebrows at Dustin as Will’s Party groaned, though none of them put up much of a fuss once they saw the sheer smile that overtook Will’s face.
With the unique combination of embarrassment and pride, Will took his place next to Eddie.
Steve beamed in the corner, clearly pleased with himself and it was not lost on Gareth (or anyone else in the know) that Eddie preened only after sneaking an obvious look at Steve’s face.
“God he has it bad.” Stewart muttered, only to hiss when Jeff not so subtly jabbed him with a pen.
Gareth just shook his head, and gave Eddie a grin that said he would absolutely be getting shit for this later.
“Stevie, be a dear and fetch more chairs would you?” Eddie drawled, as he settled back into his throne, baby Byers happily checking out the items he had laid out behind his DM screen.
Which Gareth supposed was Steve’s punishment for inviting the kids along, but then, Eddie may as well have been bossing the jock around all day regardless given the look of the place.
(He’d certainly taken advantage of doing just that while his leg had been healing.)
That was their mess though, and Gareth happily put all thoughts of monsters, murder, men in black and every other awful M word aside to inside pull out his luckiest D20 die.
“Hellfire,” Eddie boomed as the all finally settled, “It's time to show the kiddies how it's done. Let’s roll!”
“And Dustin bitches at me for my puns.” Steve loudly complained as he came back into the room with chairs.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
Where we left off: Hopper has insisted Owens and co handle their own damn monster problem for once, to the despair of The Party. El has equally insisted she refuses to let anyone (even Stewart) die if she is able to prevent it. Gareth's anxiety about monsters trying to take off with one of Eddie's legs flipped to what Steve's reaction would be when Eddie outed himself in an argument. Thankfully, Hellfire's jock rather pointedly insisted he will not be abandoning them any time soon, no matter how much queerness, self esteem issues, and horrible screechy metal music is involved.
Also Hopper promised Joyce he'd apologize to Eddie at some point. That point isn't in this chapter but neither Joyce nor I have forgotten he agreed to do it.
The thing that's flying towards him is--a hallucination. A figment of Gareth's imagination.
The same way the feeling of time slowing to a crawl is just a trick of the light playing with his anxiety.
He'd be fine.
(It won't hurt.)
Gareth's limbs froze, locking him in place even as the manticore bore down on him.
Thankfully, Steve did not have that problem.
Gareth's shirt was snatched from the back, choking him as Steve yanked him out of the way.
It was just in time--the Manticore blew past seconds later, too-large body so close Gareth could feel the air move past him.
The stench was unimaginable.
A fuckload of noise exploded in Gareth's ears as time kicked back in. He fell hard, behind Steve as the older teen swung his nail bat with his left hand.
Huh. Gareth thought distantly as wood, nail and flesh connected. Steve's ambidextrous.
He never would have guessed.
Doesn't think anyone would.
(Should Gareth survive this, he will immediately tease Steve about it. Right after profusely thanking him for saving his life and having a meltdown about honest to God monsters existing in Hawkins.)
The fucker barked a noise, and the only comparable thing Gareth could relate it to was a seal--if a seal had played with some of the sound effect pedals the music store.
Maybe got run over by a car right after for good measure.
In one breath, the monsters' weird, elongated hand-paws raked lines through the floor.
In the next, a wing smashed high over Eddie's head. The finger-like claws at the crux of it pierced through Stewart's still-stuck door, balancing itself as it turned.
This brought the manticore's gore-filled hole of a mouth so close to Eddie's head Gareth thought it forfeit, and it was only Steve's interference that kept Eddie the Banished from being Eddie the Buried.
"Come on!" Steve bellowed.
He smacked the bat into the floor, as much a challenge as it was a distraction.
Thick saliva dripped to the floor in clumps as the manticore's head, a bulbous thing composed of five petal-like slices of flesh and too many teeth rattled in response.
A car horn trumpeted again--and if it was a warning it was one coming far too late.
The Manticore dropped its chest to the ground as it took the bait. A dark, black tipped scorpion tail rose over the back of the beast, stinger longer than Gareth's arm and wider than a sword.
Faster than Gareth could track, almost faster than Steve could parry, the tail lashed forward, stinger out like a lance.
(But Steve, wonderful, amazing, athletic Steve, caught and parried it with his bat.
Then and there, Gareth swore to never mock a jock, ever again.)
The bat met armored exoskeleton with a sickening crack!, the force of the hit shaking Steve's arms. His right foot slid back, biceps flexing as the stinger pushed against him, straining hard against nail and wood.
Steve grunted, shoes squeaking as he was forced to give ground, the Manticore overpowering him by the sheer strength of its tail.
The entire encounter had barely lasted a few seconds but without interference?
Steve would be thrown aside--and impaled.
Before Gareth could think about how stupid it was, he was on his feet and rushing to help.
He grabbed the fire poker off the ground and thrust it forward, towards the manticore's not-a-face.
Screamed “Go back to hell you piece of shit!” So loud his voice cracked.
It worked.
The beast flinched, tail rocketing back as it rose back up on all four paws, hissing in outrage.
Steve staggered with how fast the tail had moved, but caught himself, bat wavering in the air, and--
There was no reprieve.
No moment to breathe, because as soon as the stinger's gone there's a grotesque, hand-like paw swiping at them both.
Gareth fell back, only to realize he wasn't the target.
Steve was.
The claws flash in the flickering overhead lights and there wasn’t any time.
He's as good as dead and Gareth can't do anything to save him--
But Eddie can.
Sometime during the last few seconds, the older teen had pulled his knife. Jammed it deep into the back of the manticore's front leg, and twisted after the blade had sunk down to the hilt.
This, and the resulting aborted attack, saved Steve's life.
The thing wailed as the struck leg crumpled, sending the fucker’s head on a collision course with the floor.
Stewart's door jumped in its frame as the wing-claws, dug in deep into the wood, caught the manticore. Two flesh-petals scraped the floor, but the move kept it from falling-- at the cost of putting its full weight on the door.
A door already bowed. Hinges pre-fucked with, thanks to Eddie’s early meddling.
It didn't hold.
Hinges screamed as the wood bent, before gravity asserted itself and shattered it. Massive wood splinters shoot out in an explosion of wood, more than one piece embedding itself into the manticore.
Eddie scrambled backwards half turned to protect his head, saved from two large chunks of wood only by the grace of his thick leather jacket.
Several things happened at once.
The car outside honked a third time.
The manticore lunged.
And Eddie tripped.
One petal of teeth tore into him--a graze that left his leg a bloody mess and ripped a scream from his mouth.
Gareth and Steve both shot instinctively: Steve to attack the side of the manticore's head, Gareth to slam the fire poker into a wing.
(One second turned into three.)
The manticore in turn, leapt backwards, head shaking with the hit of Steve's bat--and Gareth had exactly one half-second to realize all they had done up until this moment was piss it off before the wing he'd struck swept out.
It struck him in the gut and Steve in the chest, sending both of them flying.
Gareth's back met the floor a second time expelling all the air from his lungs, vision going dark at the edges as his head hit the floor.
(Three seconds turned to seven.)
This time he physically couldn't move, too stunned as Eddie screamed Steve's name.
Stewart, Gareth realized, was screaming too.
(Seven seconds became eighteen, until Gareth's chest could take in air again, the loud ringing in his ears easing somewhat.)
He kept blinking, thinking the weird streaks of orange light was his vision blurring, until his brain kicked in and informed him that no, those were flames he was seeing.
Gareth pushed himself up on his elbows to find that reinforcements had arrived.
Flames flew in an arc as another on-fire tennis ball struck the Manticores side. The ball bounced, flames trickling down to the floor as the monster beast shrieked.
A third ball had it slamming itself into the wall as Gareth whipped his head to the opposite end of the hallway.
Tiff and Dustin were spraying a can of something onto a number of tennis balls--the ones Gareth knew Tiff kept in her car for tennis.
Lucas loaded one into his slingshot, drawing the rubber bands back and holding so that Jeff’s lighter could turn it into a proper weapon.
He launched it once flames encompassed it fully, and Gareth watched as it flew true.
Landed to the right of the muscular, lion--like chest, flames catching every piece of skin that was touched.
A part of Gareth expected this to only distract the fucker, the same way the pieces of wood sticking out of it’s sides had barely slowed it down--but fire, apparently was its weakness.
The manticore reacted like it was being burned with acid more so than fire, dropping and rolling and ping-pinging between walls as more and more of its wing was overtaken.
Its screams turned into rapid, wracked yelps, until finally it threw itself so hard into a wall that it fell through it.
For a moment a dark hole remained open.
Gray pieces of ash lazily floated out, giving them all a glimpse into a terrifying, dark blue forest, red lightning slashing the sky above before the hole re-sealed itself.
(It closed the way a wound did. All sides creeping in at a speed far too fast for human skin, but was just slow enough to make the wall appear like a living membrane instead of wood and plaster.)
For a long moment, the only thing Gareth could hear was all his friends' harsh panting.
"Did you kill it?" Stewart asked, head peeking around the corner.
Eddie looked to Steve to answer.
Which he did.
"Rule number two, man.” Steve raked a hand through his hair, trying to comb out the sweat that had collected at his temples after he climbed to his feet. “If you can’t see the body, it’s not dead.”
Stewart crept cautiously into the hall, looking as shell shocked as Gareth felt. "Why the hell isn't that rule one?”
"I don't know, the kids made the rules. You can ask them.”
Gareth’s head pulsed unhappily, but Gareth had other concerns as he made his way to his feet.
“How bad is it?” He asked as he made his way over, Eddie still on the ground.
“I’m alright.” Eddie lied, as if they all couldn’t see the sticky patch of blood on his torn jeans.
"Stop talking, start walking!" Dustin yelled at them.
“Eddie’s injured, give us a minute!” Steve yelled back. “God. Go make yourself useful and get my medkit!”
“I’m fine, it’s fine! ” Eddie yelled out right after, voice waspish in his pain.
It convinced absolutely no one, and in fact, caused several people to come down the hallway towards him.
Lucky for him, Steve made it there first.
Dropping to his knees in front of Eddie, he gently moved a ringed hand away from the wound, giving it a critical once over as Gareth and Stewart hovered.
“It’s not bad.” Eddie tried to argue, wincing as he poked around his leg, Steve continually having to bat his hands away. “If we can wrap it I’ll be able to walk out of here.”
“I won’t know until I see more of it.” Tiff said, Jeff and Grant right on her heels to circle Eddie and Steve. “But he might be right for once--there’s not much blood. You’re gonna lose the pants though.”
“Noooo.” Eddie said, in a poor mimic of one of his D&D voices.
“Not to rush you, but we need to get out of here.” Jeff cast an anxious look over at the wall, and Gareth nodded his agreement.
This wasn’t a safe place right now.
(Had likely never been a safe place, if it was birthing out monsters like the manticore.)
Steve looked up at Eddie, holding his gaze.
“Think you can hobble over to the cars if two of us help?”
He got a sharp nod back.
“Yeah.”
“Good. Now hop to it.” Tiff said with a clap. Her voice was dry, tone almost sarcastic, but Gareth heard the unease in it
Not that anyone needed any convincing to get the hell out of dodge.
("I'm going to take up running." Eddie told him later, hands shaking from pain as Gareth drove Van Helsing after FrankenCar, Grant's Ford Escort
They had managed to wrap Eddie’s leg up in a quick bandage with the medkit. Gareth hadn’t truly been able to bring himself to look at the wound, but he’d caught a glimpse.
The fang marks stood out on Eddie’s pale skin, and ran in so many rows it looked like he’d shoved half his leg into a shark's mouth.
Tiffany insisted it was more horrific looking than it was actually horrific, and given Eddie had made at least three “am I gonna lose the leg, Doc?” jokes, Gareth believed her.
Still--it was weird, to drive Eddie’s van.
Weirder still to see Steve's Beemer (unnamed on grounds that Hellfire couldn't decide between the Batmobile and the BeemHolder) lead their little procession--though it had been a fight to get Steve to drive the car instead of ride along with Eddie.
"We both know you’re not seriously considering going running.” Gareth told him, voice shaking. “Which is unfortunate, because I'm going to make you anyway."
His fingers tightened hard on the steering wheel.
“I’m going to make everyone go running.”
It was a testament to how scared both of them were that they ended the conversation there.
No joke, no walking back what they'd said.
Running apparently, was back to being a core survival skill and Gareth very much enjoyed staying alive.)
xXx
Gareth hadn’t asked why the Byers house was the chosen place to regroup.
Had kind of assumed that it had been picked because Will’s mother wasn’t home.
Definitely was not expecting an adult to come flying out of the door with the air of a frazzled border collie, herding kids inside before freezing when she caught sight of Eddie.
Or rather: Eddie being carefully pulled out of Van Helsing by Steve and Jeff, cursing and whining the whole way.
“You big baby, you’re not that hurt.” Jeff huffed as Eddie’s squirming almost forced him to let go, resulting in Eddie gripping at Steve’s sweater like a liferaft.
“You can talk when you’re the one that got bit by a monster, Jeffrey.” Eddie snapped back, hopping on his good leg. “I almost died!”
“Steve said it just barely grazed you--”
“Steve was busy trying to keep it off of me to really notice what was happening! Unlike you. What were you doing, Jeff? Honking the fucking car horn?”
“I wasn’t the one honking--”
They continued to bicker as Miss Byers marched forward.
Gareth expected her to yell--and given the way Eddie’s eyes went wide at the sight of her, possibly even deny them entrance.
Shoo them away or send them home.
It wouldn’t be the first time a member of Hellfire had been beaten, only for the adults around them to act like they were the ones causing trouble.
Instead, she earned Gareth’s respect immediately by moving alongside Steve and asking; “Is anyone else injured?”
Barely waited for the shake of Steve’s head before spinning on her heel and heading back inside, yelling all the way.
“Will, fetch me towels. Jonathan--get the medkit! ”
“No worries, Miss Byers. Stevie here already has one.” Eddie said, before his attempts to charm her fell utterly flat when he accidentally jostled his leg and hissed out a curse.
“Steve’s not as good as mine, hun.” Her eyes swept over his leg, calculating. “Is that bite what I think it is?”
“Related.” Steve answered, starting the lengthy process of getting Eddie inside.
“Shit.” She sighed, and for the first time that night Gareth realized she too, wore the same haunted look Steve did.
Which meant she'd believe them.
A part of him, the part who was still a teenager, a kid in his own right, relaxed that an adult knew.
As with most of Hellfire, Gareth didn’t typically trust adults, but his relationship with his own parents was slightly better than most of the others. It led him to such beliefs like that maybe, just maybe, this would be the end of the monsters.
That he’d never face a thing like that outside of D&D, ever again. That whatever events haunted Steve would be handled by the proper authorities.
(That they’d be okay. Everyone would be okay.)
Sirens sounded in the distance, and even as Gareth walked inside the house he knew it wasn’t true.
Whatever all this was?
It wasn’t going away anytime soon.
“Munson?” A rumpled Jonathan Byers said, blinking like an owl hit with sunlight as the Steve-Eddie-Jeff procession went past.
He got a half-assed roguish grin and a waggle of fingers while Steve rolled his eyes over Eddie’s head.
“What happened!?” Jonathan asked, as Joyce bustled past him, relieving Jonathan of the medkit.
“It’s a long story, but we have a code red at the lab.”
Gareth knew he was frazzled, purely by the fact his hands once again went to mess with his hair, right after helping Eddie down into a chair.
“Which they knew apparently.”
‘They’ was accompanied by Steve jerking his thumb towards the living room--where the kids were talking to themselves in a huddle.
Outside, the sirens grew louder.
Jonathan looked to the living room and back, before heaving a sigh so world weary it was almost impressive. “Of course they did.”
“Demodog?” Miss Byers asked as she laid out various medical supplies on her kitchen table, pausing every so often to stare at Eddie’s leg.
“It was a manticore!” One of the kids yelled.
Gareth wasn't surprised to learn some of the brats were listening in.
There was a pause, as Miss Byers stared quizzically at Steve.
“It's like a demodog but much larger?” He told her, making an awkward shape with his hands that explained absolutely nothing. “With wings? Oh--and a scorpion tail.”
“It was terrifying.” Stewart added in a mutter, all of Hellfire awkwardly camped themselves around Eddie.
Which wasn’t good, given the frown on Miss Byers face as she carefully cut away even more of his jeans and their shitty attempt at band-aiding his wound.
It was the face of someone who was about to cause pain in an attempt to heal, and knew it.
For all that he was their front-man and self-proclaimed shepherd of Hellfire, Eddie's pain tolerance was absolute shit.
The guy could take a punch well enough, and the rings on his hands meant business when he hit back--but when adrenaline wasn't flowing?
Eddie broke down faster than his van did.
This whole thing was a bit of a sore spot. Something Eddie had admitted once under extreme duress had come from his father repeatedly telling him a man needed to be tough, and a Munson man even tougher.
(The duress in question was during one particularly animated D&D fight.
Eddie had gotten too excited and slapped an open palm down on top of a pointy figure, embedded it well into his skin.
The incident had derailed the campaign entirely and caused Hellfire as a whole to learn that their fearless leader really hated people watching him cry.)
Needless to say, a room full of children, his friends, his crush, and one of said kids' mothers wasn't exactly an ideal set up for Eddie to lose it.
So Gareth set himself up as a sort of barrier, blocking Eddie's view from the living room (and hopefully, vice versa, before making eyes at his friends to do the same.
Thankfully Jeff at least, caught on.
Communication was given through pointed looks and nudging elbows, but quickly enough, Hellfire managed to make a decently solid barrier between the kids (and Jonathan, who was doing an amazing job of chewing out said children) leaving Steve and Gareth as the sole onlookers.
“Alright, someone start talking.” Miss Byers loudly commanded, as she finally unearthed Eddie’s wounds.
To Eddie, she offered a well-used bottle of Tylenol, muttering quiet apologies before she began cleaning his very gross looking wound.
“Hey--” Gareth himself muttered, half praying he’d magically think of an excuse for Steve to fuck off, only to realize Hellfire’s jock had actually moved into the kitchen.
A line of mismatched mugs and cups was taking form on the counter, and it took a minute of carefully looking anywhere but at Eddie as Miss Byers worked to figure out Steve was making hot chocolate.
Figured that was probably smart, given Grant looked so tense Gareth expected his head to explode at any second.
(The loud arguing from the kids as they tried to explain didn't help any.)
A thought that Jonathan also seemed to have, given he put on a voice that sounded far to fatherly for Gareth's comfort and bellowed;
“Alright, enough!”
--which at least got him the silence he wanted.
“One at a time!” Jonathan parented from the living room. “Will, you start. Dustin you’re up next, then Mike, then El.”
He put his hands on his hips and Gareth nearly laughed aloud, because apparently the children weren't the only ones picking up Steve's mannerisms.
“Start from when you decided to sneak out without telling anybody but Steve.”
“If it makes you feel better we didn't actually tell Steve.” Dustin chirped.
Jonathan stared at him, and judging from his face alone Gareth expected utter hell to erupt from his mouth.
Instead they got a sort of quiet: “That does actually make me feel a bit better, thanks.”
Steve scoffed from the kitchen in response, which thankfully covered Eddie’s pained hiss from where Miss Byers was patting hydrogen peroxide into his bite mark.
Unfortunately for Jonathan, the kids came up with their own order and as always, let Dustin and Mike be their talking pieces.
“Like we told everyone else, it started because Will and El sensed something--” One began, right as red and blue lights splashed across the walls.
The source of the siren--a police truck that, judging bu the loud crunch of tires sliding on gravel and a shriek of breaks--had arrived.
Several of the children (plus Grant) cursed.
“Who called Hopper?!”
“He’s El’s dad idiot, of course someone called him.”
“Come on Max didn’t we talk about calling people names--”
Eddie tensed, as did the majority of the room, as loud, pounding footsteps tore up the front porch.
“I called him.” Miss Byers said as she rose from her crouch, apparently done re-bandaging Eddie.
She weaved her way through the room and was nearly taken out by her own front door when it was flung open to reveal the man himself, who looked like he’d spent the night fist-fighting his way through a bar, in the dark.
“El?!” He bellowed, eyes frantically scanning the room before landing on her.
The relief was so immediate it seemed to make him slump for a second.
Or rather, long enough for him to draw in enough air to get out a proper yell. “Someone better start explaining, right now. Starting with you Michael Wheeler!”
It was only then, as the man himself stepped into the light, that Gareth finally figured out why he looked sort of--off.
Unreal even, like a figure stepping out of a dream and into reality.
Jim Hopper, Chief of Hawkins Police Department, was wearing Scooby Doo pajamas.
The top was a faded orange color, boasting an image of a footstep in the center of a magnifying glass.
The bottoms were green, the head of the famed Great Dane patterned all over.
Combined?
It was Gareth's last straw.
‘You cannot be having a panic attack over the Chief’s pajamas.’ A far away part of Gareth thought hysterically, as his vision kaleidoscoped.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
“Tell Hop what you told me.”
As Hopper turned to face them with a startled expression, it became evident that he was just now realizing the teenagers in the kitchen weren't the ones he had expected to encounter.
His gaze swept over them in a clinical assessment, as if memorizing their faces so he could write them up later. Each of them let out a sigh of relief when he moved onto the next person, before his eyes landed on Eddie--and stayed.
“Munson?” He hissed, causing half of Hellfire to flinch.
To Eddie’s credit, he didn't react. Just reclined in the chair like he owned it, and raised the mug of chocolate Steve had just let go of.
“Nice jammies, Hop.” He said in lue of a greeting.
“Ignore him.” Dustin demanded, in a tone that had Jeff and Grant both side eyeing him. “The glowing goo is the important thing here.”
(I will post a tumblr version when I get off of work)
