A person can get hit in the head only so many times before it takes effect and does permanent damage. Steve’s incessant claims that being in the front row when the fight breaks down does nothing to him, that he’s safe and alright as long as everyone else is, mean very little in the face of cold, evident facts.
His hearing isn’t intact. It takes him a while to adjust to this reality, but with the help of his friends, he eventually does. Thanks to Nancy’s fierce bullying of the government guys who come to Hawkins to assess the situation and cook up some half-assed excuse for everything that’s happened, Steve now has a small army of well-paid doctors that really seem to be eager to help. He also gets state-of-the-art hearing aids that, well—they work, but Steve’s range of possibilities is still quite narrow. Let a few people into the room, let them speak simultaneously and all he can hear is static, rustles and crackling.
But he’s pliant. He listens when Robin tells him they have to get in the car and hit the road to get to his appointment on time. He lets her help with inserting the aids properly on the days he’s just too impatient and too bugged about how they feel and look to even care if they help him hear. He’s not dismissing her enthusiasm when she starts learning sign language before he even gets a chance to discuss it as his option.
He’s doing a lot of things for her, even if they’re supposed to be important to him first. To be honest, these days it’s mostly doing things for Robin that keeps him going. He would have gone completely numb ages ago if it weren’t for her and her unique ways of picking up the severed pieces whenever he crumbles.
He’s also doing it for Dustin. If Robin is his twin sister, Dustin is the little brother he’s never had. And Dustin… It’s just been too rough on him. It’s been rough on everyone; how could it not be if the only thing they seem to be able to do is wait? Wait for the lab guys to figure out a way to end this. Wait for the panic to cease. Wait for Max to wake up.
Wait for the grief to pass.
They wait and wait, but it never stops—on the contrary, it brings fresh, equally unwanted feelings. They’re always there, lurking behind the corner like a kitten that wants to launch itself at an unsuspecting owner – only with them, there won’t be any playtime involved. Steve recognizes this feeling. It’s the same feeling he’d had in that Winnebago when he was dropping off Max, Lucas and Erica at Creel’s doorstep. An awful anticipation of doom waiting to happen.
He doesn’t like it. He’d like to find a way to do something about it, but he can’t seem to get to the core of it.
Maybe that’s why he thinks he’s hearing things when he really can’t be hearing them.
At first, Steve writes it off as him being paranoid. It happens only when he’s home by himself, so it’s the only logical explanation – he takes off his aids, he gets too attentive about his surroundings, right? He thinks he hears something, but it’s only his tired mind playing tricks on him.
Especially because what he hears are mostly usual, non threatening things. The sound of water running in the bathroom (he goes inside, everything is dry and quiet). The sound of kitchen drawers being opened (he goes to the kitchen, the cabinets are exactly the way he left them). The sound of cutlery being dropped on the floor (but he hasn’t even taken anything out in the first place).
He even gets used to it. Things happen, his brain is weird. It’s confusing, sure, but hasn’t he seen worse things? He definitely has.
But it doesn’t keep him away from sleeping with his bat perched on the side of the bed. If he sleeps at all, if a sudden sound of breaking glass doesn’t keep him awake until his morning shift with Robin, when he can finally leave this goddamn house and take his mind off of things.
Steve tries to ignore it. He really tries, but the point is—Steve can’t hear things like running water in the bathroom when his aids are off. Hell, he only makes it out if he focuses on it when they’re in, so why the heck can he hear it so well? Why are the sounds multiplying?
It goes on for weeks. He avoids the topic for as long as possible, trying to shoo away the obvious similarities between his house and the house that made him hate spiders and cringe at fireplaces not too long ago.
It gets a little too real on just some random Tuesday, when his kitchen positively explodes with sounds the second he gets the hearing aids off. Cabinet doors slam left and right, mugs fall to the floor and shatter, forks and spoons seem to be getting thrown around like ragdolls—but Steve sees nothing. He hears it, he hears it so loudly it hurts, the cacophony of noises he’s never even heard before, but his eyes register no proof of it. He curls down on the floor, expecting sharp glass pieces to cut his skin, but nothing happens. Nothing’s here.
He still covers his head, tucked away in the furthest corner of the kitchen, waiting for it to just stop, to leave him alone—
Steve doesn’t know how long it takes, but when it’s finally done, his knees are shaky and his breathing is ragged. He snatches his aids and takes off, straight to Robin’s house. He doesn’t even lock the door, a thing his parents would kill him for if they knew.
It’s the first time he explains everything to her. It would be hard not to, because she sees right through him. His panicked, restless eyes are enough indication of things not being right.
“Maybe, uh—I think I’ve read something about hearing loss and auditory hallucinations? That they happen, sometimes, especially if the loss of hearing is sudden?” she says, already flipping through her notebook where she keeps all Steve-related stuff and pacing around the room with enough force to make a hole in the carpet.
Steve’s not convinced. “It seems pretty real to me,” he mumbles and frowns. “But that’s the point of it, right?”
Robin shrugs. He notices that she has a small set of wrinkles around her eyes. Steve looks at them for a second in total disbelief. They already have some worry wrinkles, and they’re not even well into their twenties.
He’s gonna lose all his precious hair in a span of months if this doesn’t stop.
*
They decide to bring it up during his next appointment, still hoping that it’ll maybe go away on its own. Robin tries to make him get a consult straight away (what if it is rabies after all, Steve, like a really really really weird, belated presentation of rabies?), but he waves it off. The option of hallucinations doesn’t soothe his nerves, but as long as it’s not a chiming clock, he can avoid confronting it for a while longer.
It doesn’t go away, though. Steve can’t quite pinpoint it, but it almost feels like—well, it obviously doesn’t feel like it’s real enough to be real. But there’s something that accompanies the sounds, the lack of evidence, the missing of this ominous feeling that Creel’s house inflicted on him.
The sounds—it feels like they bear a presence. Steve’s still scared and gets spooked by them whenever they happen, but he’s no longer truly afraid of them.
Some of them are even comforting. The sound of his pillow being fluffed up before he gets to bed, the sound of pen scratching on paper whenever he leaves his journal open on the desk, the whooshing sound of a lighter being opened and closed – they all make this eerie place his parents have left him a little less empty.
He rarely lets himself think about it that way. He may be a little kooky, but admitting that he’s lonely enough to find hallucinations comforting would be way too much to handle at the moment.
So Steve can’t hear, but he learns to accept the fact that, apparently, sometimes he can. He doesn’t know how it works—to be quite honest he doesn’t know a lot about experiencing hearing loss at all, despite now being hard of hearing himself—but it just makes its place in his life.
He thinks about it a lot, but he tries not to overthink it too hard. It just happens. Things fall to the floor in his house, curtains get torn, the fridge gets opened frequently. He just can’t see it. His mind hears it, but his eyes don’t get the memo. He lives for longer than a week. It’s probably a good sign; nothing’s going to make his bones snap in two now, probably. Hopefully.
Things change suddenly.
Steve tries to spend as much time with Dustin as possible. Between work, his appointments and Robin, Dustin, Max and the kids are his top priority. He doesn’t think he would be able to function if he let himself take a breath and step down from his piled up responsibilities that he chose to take on himself. They keep him together. They keep him going.
Besides, Mrs. Henderson gets really worried. Sometimes it’s just better for Dustin to stay with Steve, and Steve is more than happy to be with him, even though it seems that Dustin doesn’t really like his cold house either.
It’s one of Dustin’s quiet days. He gets them, sometimes—Steve knows that trying to get him to talk on one of those days is a lost cause, and his ears are killing him. He was in such a hurry this morning he didn’t take the time to put the aids in properly. Work was overflowing with people, too, so now his temples are throbbing from trying to pick up the chatter from the static. Seriously, how is it possible that people still spend so much time watching movies in the face of almost-apocalypse, Steve doesn’t know.
“Would you mind if I took my aids off for a while?”
“Go ahead,” Dustin mumbles, bending over his new book.
Something flips inside Steve’s chest. He knows it’s not supposed to be like that, it’s unlike Dustin to be so… not himself. But what can Steve do? He can’t make him talk. He can just wait, nothing else.
He gets up to leave his aids on the counter and pour himself some coffee. He should probably start making dinner soon, but he decides to take a few peaceful sips first.
It’s weird. To sit with Dustin Henderson, of all people, without a single word. Steve glances at him every once and again, but Dustin either ignores him or genuinely forgets that he’s there.
Steve’s so deep in his thoughts about Dustin, he doesn’t even look to the side when a sudden sound of kitchen chair toppling over cuts through the silence. His eyes are trained on the kid.
Who flinches. And frowns. Steve can swear that he fights the urge to look around.
Each and every chair Steve keeps in the kitchen is standing where he placed them in the morning after breakfast. Nothing real has happened. But Steve heard it. And, apparently, Dustin did too.
Steve’s brain is working overtime for the rest of the evening, and he desperately tries not to show any of it. He’s jumping into conclusions. It was an accident; dumb luck. It’s nothing. He’s working himself up, nonsensically.
But it doesn’t feel like it’s nothing. It was only one chair, one sound, but the feeling that accompanied it was strong. Too strong to be nothing.
He waits to drop Dustin off at home like he’s on pins and needles, fumbling with his fingers and keys and pacing around. Maybe it’s better that it’s one of Dustin’s quiet days, he mostly gets away with it, getting only a few side glances.
When gets back home, it’s late, but he’s buzzing with anticipation nonetheless. He can finally do something. He discards his aids haphazardly, not nearly as carefully as he should, and starts running around the house. The house his parents built is huge—but the kitchen turns out to be quite small when he’s finally done with arraying at least a dozen lamps there. He has to raid three of his father's garages to get enough extension cords.
When he turns them on all at once, he has to take a step back and shut his eyes, because it’s too much light.
Just the right thing he needs.
His heart is beating so fast he can almost feel it ramming against his ribs. That’s about how far he’d thought this plan through.
“Come on,” he says and clears his throat, trying to gauge how his voice may really sound now. He repeats himself, hoping that it’s louder this time.
Nothing happens for a while, but he knows he’s close. The feeling is here. The presence that hasn’t left him in months. It’s here.
Steve walks around the kitchen, moves the lamps a little, shakes some of them. His hands are clammy and it feels like he’s chewed through his cheek at this point, but he can wait. He’s waited for a long time. He can wait a while longer.
When the microwave beeps, he stops breathing for a second.
Until it beeps again. And again.
“Oh god,” he breathes. He doesn’t know if he speaks clearly or not, he doesn’t even care. “Come on, show me that it’s you. Come on, come on—”
The lamp furthest to the left starts blinking, slowly at first. Then the one next to it, then another one, and another one, like someone’s walking around and making them flicker one by one.
They’re blinking so much one of the bulbs goes out. Steve doesn’t hear it hiss, so he knows it went out here, now. He knows it’s real.
“Oh god,” his hand goes to his mouth. His eyes are weirdly itchy. “Oh god, is it really you, Eddie?”
The lamp directly in front of Steve goes wild. When he reaches out, it’s almost like he can touch the presence that’s here with him.
HOH!Steve is my BOY I love him. *pats top of his head* you can fit so much angst in this bad boy.
They pop the corn, and Eddie only snickers a little when Steve jumps at the first pop. Steve shifts uncomfortably. “Sorry,” he mutters. “Didn’t hear what it was.”
Eddie immediately feels like an ass. “No, I’m sorry. I wasn’t laughing at you. I was laughing because I can’t count the number of times I’ve been scared by the popcorn.”
Steve gives him a little smile. “And the toaster?”
…like I said. Angst. I love him. And also Eddie. Eddie is amazing.
I'd stand on the corner, embarrassed with a picket sign (part 1)
(aka that witch!eddie and hoh!steve fic i was talking about)
Eddie learned the craft from his mom. Witchcraft, to be clear. It was the only thing she’d left him with when she’d walked out on him and his dad when Eddie was only thirteen. That, and an ancient amethyst ring Eddie still wore on a silver chain around his neck, along with the first guitar pick his Uncle Wayne had given him.
Eddie was sentimental like that. But his mother had always told him, objects held power. Which was probably at the root of his packrat tendencies, but he was twenty-six and he wasn’t about to change now.
It was nearing midnight on a Tuesday night and Eddie sat on the sunken couch in his apartment. A cigarette curled smoke about his head as he laid cards out before him on the coffee table, studying the images intently as a Pink Floyd concert streamed on the flat-screen. He absently reached for the remote to turn down the volume as he considered the spread.
The Two of Wands reversed, Strength, and the Ten of Cups.
Fucking Strength again. Eddie had drawn that card very nearly every day for the past two months. Ever since his new neighbor had moved in.
Eddie took a drag off his cigarette and tapped black-painted nails thoughtfully on the coffee table. He glanced up when a long furry white shape scrabbled up onto the table and hopped around the cards. Eddie’s familiar, a small white ferret, made a grab for the Strength card and Eddie hastily snatched it out of her teeth. He glared at her and she met his gaze with eyes like shiny black beetles.
“You have something to do with this, don’t you,” he accused, pointing at her with the card in his hand.
She darted away and off the table, kicking over his stack of cards as she went.
“Little shit,” Eddie grumbled to himself as he gathered up his deck and put it back in its black velvet bag.
Eddie’s phone buzzed and he fished it out of his back pocket.
unknown: hi! this is robin. i got your # from chrissy. can you do a reading tn??
Eddie sighed, glanced at the clock. He had a few places he liked to meet people for readings. Chrissy, his closest friend since high school, attended the local University. Robin was probably the same Robin that Chrissy talked about all the time, the one in her Women’s Lit class. Eddie quickly arranged to meet her at the 24-hour University library, and tried to pretend there was no reason to be anxious.
“Galadriel! Get your furry little ass out here, we’ve got work!” Eddie called as he stood and went to the door, tugging on his jacket and boots.
The sound of tiny claws on the hardwood preceded his familiar as she scurried into the foyer, dragging one of her little sweaters.
Eddie grinned and stooped to pull the lavender sweater onto her squirming body. “Good thinking. It’s supposed to get cold tonight,” he said. He unzipped a beaten black leather backpack on the floor and Galadriel hopped in without needing to be told. He put the backpack across his chest and grabbed his helmet from the hook by the door.
The library was only a twenty minute walk, but Eddie hated walking. His breath misted in the cold October night air as he swiped water droplets off the seat of his motorcycle and mounted it. Thankfully the rain had stopped for a while, but a feeling on the back of his neck told him it wouldn’t hold off long.
Eddie parked his bike in front of the library a few minutes later and hung his helmet on the handlebar. He crouched to check his reflection in the side mirror. He fluffed his hair, which had gone sadly flat under the helmet, and checked his teeth. He tried out his sweetest smile, then his filthiest smirk.
He let his face fall into his hands and groaned. “It doesn’t matter. You know you’re not going to talk to him, you fucking coward,” he hissed.
Galadriel poked her head out of the backpack and nipped the meat of his hand. Eddie squawked and almost fell backwards onto his ass on the wet pavement. “Shit! Ok, I’m going! Asshole,” he grumbled. A crack of thunder boomed ominously overhead just as he mounted the steps and a rain drop hit his nose. Another thing he’d gotten from his mom: an infallible sense for weather.
Midterms were coming up for students, so the library was fairly full even at this time of night. When he walked in, the object of his anxiety was helping a student at the front desk. Eddie passed the desk without looking up and found Robin at a secluded table in the language section.
Robin, Eddie soon discovered, was as infatuated with Chrissy as Chrissy was with her. The question Robin had for him was whether she should break up with her girlfriend, and ask Chrissy out. Robin used the word “fine” to describe her current relationship no less than eight times. She had described Chrissy, however, with phrases like “electric smile” and “a laugh like christmas bells” and “fascinating opinions on Radclyffe Hall.”
Eddie laid out a spread for her, and the cards just confirmed what he already knew. Robin needed to move on from this relationship that was going exactly nowhere at a turtle’s pace and roll the dice with Chrissy.
‘You owe me, Chrissy,’ Eddie thought as he pocketed $25 from an anxious but happy Robin and gathered up his cards.
When he exited the language section, thunder rolled and rain lashed against the windows of the library. Up front he saw Steve standing behind the librarian’s desk, one hand to his ear and the other fiddling on his phone. His gaze was intent on his screen, elbows on the desk. Eddie slowed his determined walk towards the door, waffling with indecision. He felt Galadriel squirming restlessly and looked down to see her narrow musteline face peaking up at him out of the dark cavern of the open backpack. Somehow, her expression seemed accusatory.
“I’m not a coward,” he whispered to her, defensive. “It’s rude to bother someone while they’re at work!”
Her beady eyes blinked up at him.
Eddie clenched his teeth. “What would I even say? ‘Hey, I know we’re neighbors and we’ve said less than ten words to each other but the first time I saw you without a shirt I had to lock myself in my bedroom and jerk off about it until I could think about anything else again?’” he whispered angrily.
Two girls passed him, giggling and glancing at him. Eddie winked at them and gave a mock bow, swallowing his embarrassment behind a mischievous grin. Nothing to see here. Just a man talking to himself. One of the girls blushed and gave him a little finger wave.
When they were gone, Eddie sighed and looked down at his familiar. “Fine,” he whispered. “I’ll talk to him. But I’m gonna say the stupidest shit just to spite you.”
Galadriel didn’t roll her eyes, because she was a ferret, but Eddie got the message loud and clear. “Shut up,” he whispered to her. Then with more confidence then he felt, he rolled his shoulders, shook out his hair, and sauntered up to the desk where Steve still stood with one hand to his ear and his eyes on his phone, brow furrowed.
Eddie leaned on the wood surface, cleared his throat. Steve didn’t react. Eddie tapped his knuckles against the desk and Steve finally looked up, pretty hazel eyes wide and glossy pink lips slightly parted. He was wearing a smart blue button-down tucked into dark chinos that Eddie knew from experience made his ass look incredible. His lion’s mane of chestnut hair was as gravity-defying as ever, swooping over his forehead.
Eddie ignored the wild pattering of his heart, laid his hands flat on the desk to hide their shaking, put on his best smolder, the one he used when he was crooning into a microphone on stage at a local bar. “Can I apply for a library card? Because I’d like to check you out.”
Steve’s brow furrowed in consternation, and he looked down at his phone again, slid his thumb across the screen. He looked back up with an apologetic frown. “What was that? Sorry, I had to adjust my hearing aids. The noise from the storm kinda interferes.”
Eddie’s stomach dropped. Shit. Shit! He hadn’t actually meant to say something that stupid, but that’s usually how it went for him. His mouth did things his brain didn’t authorize. And Steve hadn’t even heard him. The little bit of courage he’d managed to cobble together mainly to spite Galadriel’s judging looks had melted away “Um…”
“Oh my god, is that a ferret?” Steve said.
Eddie looked down to see Galadriel had poked her furry white head out of the bag across his chest and was looking at Steve. There was definitely a sign on the door that said no animals except service animals that Eddie ignored every time he came here because his familiar was usually very good at keeping herself hidden. Except when she was being a nosey little shit.
“I have to go! It was- nice, um- this was-,” Eddie gargled, before he gave up and turned on his heel, practically sprinting to the glass doors as he pushed Galadriel’s head back down into the bag.
“That was a disaster!” Eddie said as he stomped back down the steps to his motorcycle. Rain pelted his hair and his leather jacket. Galadriel had smartly curled back up at the bottom of her bag. She hated rain.
Back at the apartment, Eddie dropped his helmet and bag by the door with a sigh. Galdriel tumbled out of her bag and gave herself an indignant shake as if to dispel any responsibility for that catastrophe of an interaction. She skittered off into the apartment and Eddie followed, shedding his sopping clothes and letting them fall with wet slaps on the hardwood. He’d pick them up later. Right now he needed to dry his hair and change into some soft pajamas.
The thing was, Galadriel was right. He was a coward. Eddie had been hopelessly infatuated with Steve from the moment he’d moved into the building two months ago.
Eddie had been awoken out of an unusually good sleep at two in the afternoon by the sound of shouting and thumping out in the hallway. When he’d gone to investigate, ready to use his well-known freak persona to scare whoever it was into silence, he’d come face-to-flushed, sweaty face with the most beautiful boy he’d ever seen in his life. He had been moving a couch with the help of a curly-headed teenager with a gap-toothed grin.
Eddie had stuttered something stupid, he still didn’t know if it had been his actual name, and Steve had introduced himself, dropping his end of the couch to shake Eddie’s hand, a dumb smile stretching his beautiful face. The teenager had cussed at them both with a far-too superior attitude for a literal child and Steve had fumbled to pick up the couch and continue scraping and denting both sides of the hallway as they moved his furniture into the apartment right beside Eddie’s.
Eddie had agonized for days about whether or not he should go over and formally introduce himself and maybe bring his new neighbor some homemade bread or a casserole or something. Was that something you were supposed to do for new neighbors? Or was that just when someone died? Eddie didn’t know. He also didn’t know how to cook anything more complicated than a grilled cheese. After a week he’d decided too much time had passed for it to be anything but weird to knock on his new neighbor’s door.
And then for the following two months Eddie had sunk deeper and deeper into admiration for his pretty neighbor who sang along to pop songs and ran shirtless in the afternoons if he wasn’t playing basketball with neighborhood kids and had the sweetest smile and most expressive eyebrows and had some kind of bitchy older brother thing going with a group of rowdy teenagers that Eddie found both entertaining and endearing. Also he was a hot librarian. How was Eddie supposed to be normal about any of this?
And despite his familiar’s encouragement (read: harassment with a side of judgment) Eddie had done nothing so far to make a move.
And now he’d made a fool of himself. At least Steve hadn’t actually heard his incredibly stupid pick-up line. That was a plus, right?
Eddie sat back down on his couch and pulled out a box of supplies he kept under the coffee table. He needed to put together some spell kits for his Etsy shop. It was almost Halloween and people went crazy for spell kits during “spooky season.” It wasn’t his favorite part of his business, as it were, but it paid the bills.
Galadriel came running out of the bedroom still in her little purple sweater, dragging Eddie’s favorite fuzzy blanket behind her. Eddie smiled reluctantly and accepted her offering. He wrapped the blanket around his shoulders as she scrabbled up onto the sofa beside him. She liked to help with the kits.
Eddie massaged her behind the ears with his thumb and forefinger, smile fondly exasperated. “It’s alright. It’s not your fault I can’t talk to pretty guys without looking stupid.”
Galadriel hopped around to his other side happily and jumped to the table. She started pulling bags of dried herbs and tiny vials out of the box, what she knew they’d need for spell kits for communing with spirits. They were always his best sellers in October. Oddly enough, spell kits for banishing spirits were extra popular in November.
“Of course, it kind of is your fault a little bit,” Eddie teased. “You know I get extra stupid when you provoke me. I’m very suggestible.”
Galadriel chittered at him and Eddie laughed. Thunder cracked outside and rain continued to pound against the windows as he and his familiar worked at the table.
---
notes: I'm going to try my best to update this every Sunday. It shouldn't be more than five parts, I think. next chapter will be Steve's pov! I will be cross-posting to ao3, but tumblr will see it first. steve's hard of hearing is not going to be part of the conflict of the story or an obstacle or anything, it's just something he's living with. I am still looking for a sensitivity reader for Steve's parts! Anyone who has personal experience with losing their hearing, hearing aids, and/or hearing dogs. Steve has been losing his hearing for years, and when he moves in next to Eddie he has just started using hearing aids and getting a home hearing dog. I want to make sure I get his part right, and that I do justice to his feelings about the new accommodations he is learning to live with.
T | Steve & Dustin |1791 words | ao3 link | cw: minor ableism from a side character, also they swear, I always forget f-bombs bother some people sorry guys | STWG Prompt: Telling a story to get out of trouble
EDIT: I NEARLY FORGOT thank you @pearynice my beloved for the brainstorming GENIUS and @hairstevington for the sensitivity read! You guys are awesome!! Also thank you @saradika-graphics for making free dividers!!
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((little bit of context for extra clarity: this universe is vaguely canon divergent, post season 2. Steve is hoh (hard of hearing) and already adopted by the Hendersons, and in this one they're in the middle of a sort of family reunion/gathering))
Steve went to duck inside the house, holding the door open for Aunt Tracy on her way back out into the backyard where the majority of the gathering was taking place. She smiled and said something, probably just a thank you that he would’ve heard if the batteries in his hearing aids hadn’t died. He smiled back at her and gestured to his ear and she nodded again with a smile that did its best to not be patronizing.
She left and Steve went inside, sighing a little and tried to not hold it against her, the lack of filter seemed to run in the family, but it was moments like that that made him grateful his mom was the most laid-back of the Henderson women.
Steve went over to the media room and dug through the little bin of batteries under the phone, pulling out an opened pack that had just enough left. He took both aids off, changed the batteries, and put them back on to make sure they worked.
He heard a strong thud from his bedroom, followed by muttering.
Steve put the dead batteries down on top of the table and stared at his bedroom door. The muttering escalated to hushed bickering.
Steve walked closer to the door, hearing the bickering more clearly, then opened the door.
Dustin and their cousin Aiden both jumped and turned to look at the door, Dustin relaxing when he saw it was him. Steve paused for a second, looking at both of them crouched on the ground, bright pink paint on their hand and clothes and the carpet around them with no bottle in sight.
Steve leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow at Dustin.
“We were just… snooping through your shit. ” Dustin said.
Steve glanced back down at the paint everywhere, and gave him a look.
Dustin just smiled like a little angel, which worked on mom and maybe Steve-from-two-years-ago, but not now.
“Oh no, you found my secret stash of… bubblegum pink paint.” he deadpanned.
“The cheap kiddy bubblegum pink paint.” Dustin corrected, looking down at the carpet. “It’ll wash out.”
“Of course.” He looked over to Aiden, who had relaxed significantly as he realized Steve wasn’t going to blow up on them. “And… why is there totally washable pink paint in my room specifically? Weren’t you guys sticking to dicking around outside to avoid doing stuff like this?”
Aiden opened his mouth to give a better excuse, but Dustin started tapping his shoulder excessively to get his attention.
“He’d help us.”
Steve raised his eyebrows, not arguing because odds were good he’d end up doing something, but he still played it up like he wasn’t already planning to.
Aiden was turned mostly towards Dustin and muttered something he couldn’t catch, throwing a glance at Steve.
“Trust me, this is like a walk in the park compared to–” Dustin said.
“Hardly a fair comparison, man.” Steve interrupted.
“–compared to the other shit he’s helped me with.”
Aiden thought about it, then glanced towards Steve. “And he's not going to jump ship afterwards and get us in trouble?”
“Of course not, right Steve?”
Steve looked at the two of them and ran a hand over his face.
“You know step one of not getting in trouble for stupid shit is not starting stupid shit, right?”
Aiden groaned but Dustin agreed immediately, “Yes, 100% understood.”
Dustin elbowed Aiden, and he nodded despite his clear annoyance.
Dustin smiled and looked at Steve.
He rubbed his temple one last time before throwing his hand down.
“Okay. Step two then.”
Dustin jumped up and shot him a thanks before running around him towards the kitchen. Steve watched him go then turned back to Aiden who looked just as confused.
“What’s he doing?”
“I don't know.” Aiden lied, looking at him curiously, “What's step two?”
“Find me and let me finish the stupid shit.”
“Huh.”
Dustin came running back with a slice of deli-meat in one hand.
“Dustin, this isn’t looking much better than last time.”
Dustin paused his mad dash for just a second to look at him.
“It’s significantly better, I swear.” he said, then ran to sit back down, dropping the slice of meat on the floor in front of him, and waited.
After a few seconds of nothing, a fuzzy little white face poked out from under his bed. Cautiously, a opossum with pink paint splashed on its back came waddling out. It sniffed at the food given to him, nibbled at it, then opened its mouth as wide as it could to awkwardly chomp at its new snack.
It was a wild animal, Dustin brought in a wild animal inside, during a family gathering with some of the most worry-wart mothers he’s ever met–
But god, the tiny opossum was really fucking cute.
Dustin beamed at the little guy like a proud mom, then up at Steve. Steve shook his head in disbelief and joined them carefully around the opossum. He picked up the deli meat and placing it on his hand to get the little guy used to it.
“You’re crazy, Henderson, you’re fucking crazy.” He grumbled, playing up annoyance to avoid losing his better judgment.
Dustin said something probably cheeky as hell, but he didn’t catch it.
“One more time.” he said, looking away from the opossum for just a second.
“And what does that make you, Henderson?” Dustin smiled, definitely cheeky.
“Reluctantly, also fucking crazy.” he sighed, shaking his head before moving the deli meat further up his hand to lead little Mr. Opossum onto it.
He lifted Opossum gently, letting it have the rest of the deli meat so he could use two hands to hold it steady. He stood up slowly, and started walking towards the bathroom.
Dustin and Aiden went around him to get the door, lights, and sink ready– apparently, to continue where they left off. There were pink handprints around the edge of the sink and a bottle of dish soap sat next to the hand soap.
“Wow, I wonder what happened here.” Steve deadpanned. He looked over at the both of them, not a hint of guilt in their eyes. “And this is why there aren’t two Dustin Hendersons.” he bitched with no real anger, and set Mr. Opossum down gently in the sink.
“You mean this is why there aren’t two Aiden Haults.” Aiden said, leaning over the sink.
“Nope, Dustin gets the credit for this one.”
Steve closed the drain to make a pool of water and Opossum gravitated to it immediately, taking a drink before waddling into the pool and almost rolling in the water to get his fur wet.
Steve tried and failed to bite back a smile.
“His name is Sir Crayolan.” Dustin said.
Steve had no choice but to bark out a laugh.
“Sir what?”
“Sir Crayolan.”
“Oh god, I heard you correctly.”
“It’s a great name!”
“You know Sir Crayolan isn't staying, right?”
“Yeah, we were gonna let him go after we washed him, we just–”
Aiden muttered something and tugged on his sleeve, pointing out the bathroom doorway towards the back door.
Just out of the window, Aunt Tracy was caught in conversation with someone, looking like she was laughing, but clearly stopped just before she was going to come inside. Steve quickly rinsed some of the minimal paint on his fingers, careful not to scare Mr. Crayola or whatever.
“Does she know you’re in here?”
“No, we hid in your room–”
“Good, you guys wash him, carefully and quietly, I’ve got the rest.” He whispered, wiping his hands off on a towel.
“You’re the best, Steve.” Dustin said, giving him a quick side hug to avoid getting paint on him.
“Oh really? I’m gonna need that in writing.” He smiled and Dustin stuck out his tongue. Steve returned the gesture and slipped out of the bathroom, straight across the hall and into his bedroom.
He turned off the lights immediately to hide the pink mess on his floor and waited to hear the front door.
He heard Aunt Tracy’s laughing rather than the actual door open, heard her wave off whoever it was she was talking to through the door. He took one hearing aid off before he walked out of his room, closing the door behind him. He made his way back to the abandoned dead batteries and put his aid back on, messing with it a little longer than strictly necessary.
“Oh, Steve, there you are. Everything okay?” she said, joining him by the tv room.
“Yeah, just had to find batteries. What’s up?”
“Oh yes, well– now, I know I could be overreacting, but I haven’t seen Aiden anywhere for– oh, for god knows how long–”
“He was with Dustin earlier–”
“I know, I know, but they were near those woods weren’t they? And you know there were those missing kids stories–”
“Trust me, I know.” he said, dropping the dead batteries into their battery jar. “I can help you search for them if you want, but I don’t think Dustin’s ever gotten lost. He carries around a compass like it's his wallet. Worst case scenario? They’re messing around in the woods somewhere a little too far away and they’ll come running back once they realize we started eating hotdogs without them.”
“God, you know Claudia said the same thing, I just worry…”
“Ron just lit the grill, right? Let’s give them twenty minutes,” he checked his watch, “Until five… five fifteen-ish. If nobody sees them, I’ll help you look.”
“Twenty minutes, alright, I’ll tell Claudia.” She said, and circled back to the door.
“I’ll join you guys in a second, I’m grabbing a coke.” he called, jutting a thumb back towards the kitchen.
She called something back with a wave and Steve just waved back until she disappeared out the door. He walked over to the kitchen and grabbed a cold can for himself and a diet pepsi for mom, then circled back to the bathroom.
He checked over his shoulder once real quick before tapping on the door and opening his coke.
Aiden answered the door, cracking it open just enough to stand in the doorway.
“You got all that, yeah?”
“Twenty minutes, we’ve been exploring in the woods.”
“Yup. Release your critter out the front door and circle around. I am not joining a search party for you guys today.”
Aiden nodded and gave him an overserious salute. Steve threw a more casual one back.
“Tell Mr. Crayola I said ‘bye’.” he said, then turned around to leave as Dustin came to the opossum’s defense. He hid his smile by taking a sip of his coke, and went back out the door.
thank you for reading!
(obligatory disclaimer uhhh dont pick up wild opossums please ok thanks guys love ya)
There's only ever Steve's scars, red and angry at first, pulling at every movement of his body and threatening to open up and spill whatever's left of his self-preservation. Then pink, no longer angry but just as spiteful, just as hurtful, just as much there as anything. Then, at the very last, white – on bad days they push and pull and ache, reminding him of being pulled apart, on good days simply there.
There's only ever Steve's hair, golden like the last few hours of the day and silky soft like flowers. Growing longer and longer, past the ends of his ears to the tops of his shoulders and then spilling over his collarbones like waterfalls made of caramel.
There's only ever Steve's jeans, destroyed beyond repair, stained and ripped and unsalvageable. Then new ones, made to fit his new body, the one that hurts and longs for softer things, looser fits – a stark contrast to the tight silhouettes he used to take pride on.
There's only ever Steve's bad eyesight, how he squints and strains to read from afar and from up close, how he's never quite looking at much of anything anymore. How he blinks rapidly, as if blinking will lift up the fog that's settled over his eyes and refuses to let him see.
There's only ever Steve's bad hearing, making him go "huh?" every other sentence and clock out during conversations. "Sorry, I wasn't listening," becoming "Sorry, I can't... I can't hear you."
There's only ever Eddie's love.
There's only ever the way Eddie kisses each of Steve's scars – the big ones, that match his own; the small ones, that don't. Buys soothing balms and pomades and whatever's recommended by the pharmacist and the beauty magazines Steve keeps hidden underneath a stack of polos.
There's only ever Eddie's fingers running through Steve's soft hair when they're kissing, caressing the strands like they're special, almost magical. Teasing him about the blond highlights, calling him "little California dream," staring when the sun catches it just right and makes a halo glow around his head, not unlike something holy.
There's only ever Eddie's soft sweatpants, stolen in broad daylight, finding their way to Steve's wardrobe. Stained and ripped and worn down and impossibly soft, if not a little short – "We're literally the same height, shut up," – and the way Eddie's always looking at him with soft eyes whenever he wears a particular type of sweater or his sweatpants, like he's falling in love again and again and never stopping, never ending.
There's only ever Eddie's concern, Eddie's suggestion that they go to the doctor. There's only the trip to the mall, goofy frames without lenses they spend two hours trying on only to settle on the cheapest one – only Eddie's cursing when Steve manages to look pretty even then.
There's only ever Eddie repeating himself however many times he needs to, never taking the apologies, never making Steve feel bad. There's only Eddie assuring him that it's fine, it's ok, I still love you, not a single part of you is missing. There's only Eddie's hand gripping Steve's tight on the way to get his hearing aid. There's only Eddie learning sign language with him. There's only "I love you," ironically identical to that rock on sign. "See?" He asks. "You're still metal as fuck."
There's only ever them. Steve and Eddie and Eddie and Steve. There could only ever be them.
HoH Steve Harrington headcanons because I love him (ft a lot of Steddie)
He slowly developed hearing issues in his teens and early adolescence but didn't notice at first. He learnt how to lip read by accident because he just realised it was easier to understand people when he was doing it. He didn't know it was an actual thing.
He secretly loves that Dustin calls him a cool cyborg for having hearing aids
Going to Eddie's gigs and not giving a shit about not knowing any of the lyrics to any of the songs because he can't understand them anyway. He loves the way he can feel the loud music through his entire body.
"I can't see what you're saying!" When Eddie gets distracted and covers his mouth or turns away from Steve while they're talking.
Early mornings when he doesn't have his hearing aids in and Eddie tells him to stop stomping around so much but Steve doesn't even realise he's doing it and so Eddie calls him a dinosaur and Steve tackles him whenever he makes little t-rex arms
Absolute fucking bliss of taking his hearing aids out at night and letting the noise of the world disappear.
He can't hear those annoying cicadas everyone complains about during summer nights.
Eddie buys him an ASL book but he gives up after learning literally 3 words in ASL. He learnt enough just so he can communicate with Eddie across a noisy bar (The words are "drunk," "bathroom," and "let's go") and he never uses it anywhere else.
He loves when people see his hearing aids and assume he obviously knows sign language because he always replies with "of course" and flips them off 🖕
Saying "I can't hear you 🤷♂️ sorry" or "hearing aids broke this morning" when he can very clearly hear the kids but he doesn't want to listen to them
Family Video having the biggest stock of subtitled movies because Robin keeps secretly ordering them for Steve
After he gets his hearing aids he realises he really likes movies more now that he can understand the characters and follow dialogue and pick up on the musical cues
Calling out Eddie for gossiping about him across a room because even though they're not within earshot, he can clearly lipread that Eddie said his name.
Having the radio absolutely cranked in his car and it startles Robin every single time which makes Steve laugh. She'll learn to turn the volume down before turning it on eventually.
"Oh my god where are my ears" when he can't find his hearing aids in the morning and Eddie says "on the sides of your head" to which Steve shouts "Shut up!" its such a frequent occurrence that Eddie doesn't even have to say it anymore but Steve still tells him to shut up
Wayne got a bit annoyed at the boys having the TV up so loud but after Eddie explains he has to because Steve can't hear so well, he never complained about it again.
He absolutely loves that Robin and Eddie talk with their entire bodies and are so expressive and have good annunciation (which they probably picked up from doing drama in school) because he can understand them really well.
Dustin constantly trying to sneak up behind Steve to scare him but because he's so used to being extra aware of his visual surroundings it never works.
Robin learning to perfectly imitate the way he says "Huh?" every time he can't hear her from across the store
Eddie knowing immediately when Steve didn't understand what someone said because he always does the same "Yeah, totally!" nod and smile.
Steve constantly bugging Eddie to wear hearing protection at gigs and go for a hearing test.
Steddie Boxing!AU with HoH!Fighter!Steve & Nurse!Eddie
Steve's a fighter, one of the bests in professional boxing recently.
He's infamous for surviving multiple hits to the head, known to have had more concussions than it is healthy for one man and still he's been able to turn around those matches and come out victorious.
He's a perfectionist, all for the sport with no regard to his own safety. Steve needs to give it his all and be the best. If he doesn't, then what else is there for him to do? He's not good at anything else.
The cute nurse he meets, Eddie, calls him a reckless fucker to his face the first time he's taking care of him in a hospital.
At first, Steve thinks that the stars he's seeing are from the headache, but nope, this guy's just super cute.
Eddie lectures him, and he's the first one to actually seem to care about him as a person. It tugs at Steve’s heartstrings even though he can't relate. He thinks it's perfectly normal, it comes with his job and that's it. Every job has their setbacks. Besides, it's not like he could get any more stupid than he already is, no biggie.
Eddie rolls his eyes in response, clearly not in agreement. Threatens to smack him in the face with his patient's clipboard, then they could see if it's true.
Steve hasn't laughed that loud in years. The sharp pain in the back of his head's so worth it.
After the third time they meet like this, Steve's manager hires Eddie to join his private medical team. Eddie accepts, this idiot needs someone to take care of him.
And he's so glad he did, because after a while of being around Steve —in a professional and not so professional setting, they become friends— he notices how Steve seems to just... zone out, when Eddie or other people are talking to him.
How much trouble Steve's having focusing on speech when he's with a group, especially if there's extensive background noise. The way he's staring at people's mouths during those times. Sometimes he nods along and pretends to hear what his friends are saying, only for Eddie to find out later that he missed some vital information. He plays it off with a joke when Eddie makes a comment, but he's worried for his patient/boss/crush friend.
How he seems to have migraines way too often, bad ones that make him feel all dizzy and unable to get out of bed.
So Eddie convinces him to go have his ears checked out and his hearing tested. They find out that Steve has moderate sensorineural hearing loss in both ears, caused by the multiple concussions he's suffered.
Steve has suspected it but chose not to care. He takes it surprisingly well, at least most people who find out think so. Eddie’s not convinced, so he asks him out for a late night walk. They talk about everything and nothing all at once, two friends catching up.
To Steve’s surprise, his emotions come bubbling up and he ends up sobbing into Eddie’s neck, not knowing what to do about the situation. Fighting is all he's got, but apparently that's not a path he should pursue anymore.
Eddie promises him that they will figure it out together. Just because he works for him now, they've become friends and he wants the best for Steve, he doesn't care if it costs him his job.
Steve kisses Eddie, unable to hold his feelings back any longer. Eddie’s a little wary at first because Steve's in a vulnerable state of mind but he assures Eddie that he's been wanting to do that for months, so Eddie pulls him right back in with a soft smile on his face while tenderly stroking his hair.
When they pull apart, Eddie embraces Steve and whispers in his ear, the better one, that it's all gonna be okay in the future.
For the first time after a long time, Steve feels like that might be true.
omg hard of hearing steve in class but since he can’t hear he obviously has a hard time taking notes which leads to him failing some test. eddie notices and for the first time starts taking notes just to give them to steve at the end of the day so he won’t fail
obvs u don’t have to do this i just thought ur idea was really good!!
omg. SO i don't know that i would write a whole steddie fic (though i do love a good steddie fic hehe), but i do love this idea!!
eddie would notice (bc he notices everything) and would start taking notes, but he wasn't sure how to give them to steve because why on earth would the two of them interact?? why would eddie do something nice for steve harrington? so he finally decides to start putting the notes in steve's locker.
steve's confused about the folded up notes from history class about the previous day's topic that keep showing up, falling out of his locker when he opens it. he has no idea where they came from, or who's writing them. it's not handwriting that he recognizes. but he's not going to take it for granted, because he can never hear what's going on, and even if he did take notes, his handwriting is usually too messy to read anyway. he starts using the notes, and his grades get better. not great, but better than they were. he wants to thank this mystery person, but has no idea who it could possibly be.
until one day he stays after school later than he normally does for whatever reason, and sees eddie munson putting something into his locker...
