part one of a goofy little drabble based on this post
(part 2 part 3 part 4 AO3)
Eddie is fucking late. He was supposed to meet Gareth 40 minutes ago to see whatever stupid movie is playing in the theater at the mall right now, but he’d gotten distracted writing the twist for his latest campaign. Sometimes things come to him out of nowhere and he loses track of time, sue him. But god, Gareth is gonna be such a bitch about it. To be fair to him, this is the third time in as many weeks Eddie has been drastically late to plans because he got caught up in something else, but still.
Eddie jogs through the mall, checking his watch every few paces as if that will make him less late. He comes right up to the theater when he stops dead in his tracks. Flopped against the wall are two teenagers dressed as sailors - that wouldn’t be the most alarming thing in the world, he’s seen the goofy Scoops Ahoy uniforms around over the summer, may have lingered a little around the store to look at one particular worker with his tiny little shorts and perfect hair. What is shocking is the massive amounts of blood down their shirts.
Ignore them, the logical part of his brain begs. Nothing good can come of this. Unfortunately, a much larger part of his brain, the part ruled by poor impulse control and childish curiosity, cannot resist the potential for adventure. His interest is only worsened when one of the sailors looks up with a groan and it’s Steve fucking Harrington.
Christ, he looks like he’s been put through a meat grinder. His left eye is so swollen and purple that Eddie can’t tell if it’s open or closed, and from his nose down his face and neck are stained bright red with fresh blood. What the fuck?
Tentatively, his feet slowed only slightly by the screaming from the logical side of his brain, he makes his way over to the pair. Hunched over a water fountain next to Harrington is a girl Eddie vaguely recognizes from band - Buckley, he’s pretty sure her name is - rambling in between panting sips of water about some movie they’d just watched. Oh, that’s the movie he’s supposed to be watching right now… Gareth will understand. Who could deny that this is far more interesting than whatever cultureless brain dead movie is probably playing in Hawkins mall movie theater?
Luckily, the girl looks mostly unharmed, if a little freaked, so Harrington is his first priority for now: Keeping a decent distance he clears his throat loudly. Neither of the sailors notice him so he repeats the noise louder and both of them jolt.
“Hey, uhhh, you guys okay?” He asks and then immediately cringes at how fucking lame that sounds. You guys okay? He’s a dungeon master, he’s supposed to be quick and smooth, and how different is this really from some fantasy dialogue he’d come up with in the drama room after school? He’s just gotta settle into role play mode. “You look like you lost a fight with a wall, Harrington,” He says, hoping that sounds minutely cooler. Why the fuck do I care if Harrington thinks I sound interesting?
Harrington looks at him blankly before grinning - or attempting a grin, his face sort of contorts into a half smile that makes fresh blood drip from a gash in his lip, but he doesn’t seem phased. “Try Russian soldiers,” he says before splitting into a fit of giggles, followed quickly by the Buckley girl, the two of them leaning together and knocking skulls in an attempt to hold each other up, which only makes them laugh more.
It takes about three seconds for Eddie to figure out what’s going on. “… You’re high,” he states more than asks and they both continue to laugh.
“As a kite,” the girl says and Harrington shushes her, pushing a sloppy finger up to her lips.
“Robin’s high. I’m just concussed,” he says with a straight face before doubling over in laughter again. Jesus Christ what the fuck.
The girl - Robin, apparently - elbows him hard in the side. “Hey, no jokes. You died, dummy,” She says firmly and Eddie can’t help but let his eyes go wide and his jaw drop. Harrington has the audacity to actually roll his goddamn eyes.
“Only for like, a minute,” He says, and whatever composure Eddie was clinging to disappears instantly. Harrington fucking died? Eddie realizes he must look absolutely scandalized because Harrington looks up at him and flashes him that award winning smile and fuck that is not fair. No one should be allowed to look that good while actively bleeding. Seriously, the guy looks a couple steps off dead but with that signature Harrington charm smirk Eddie is swooning. Eddie isn’t sure when his high school hate boner shifted to just regular embarrassing crush - probably around the time Harrington dropped his asshole friends and quit sports (an unfortunate overlap since there was suddenly a vacuum of opportunities to ogle him in tiny shorts right around the time he acquired morals) - but either way, it’s making his current life decidedly complicated.
Eddie coughs and attempts to compose himself. “Okay, pretty boy, considering you apparently died, recently, I think we should be getting you to a doctor,” Eddie says, reaching out to touch Harrington’s shoulder, but the guy freezes, his smile dropping and his face going white.
“No doctors,” he says firmly, Robin nodding vehemently beside him. He actually looks… afraid? No, terrified.
“Doctors do this to you?” Eddie probes gently, his hand hovering awkwardly above Harrington’s shoulder. He considers pulling it back and shoving it in his pocket but in the time he takes to think, the guy stumbles forward and the decision is made for him. Eddie does his best to catch him but Harrington ends up with a face full of Eddie’s chest. Fuck.
“Easy, Harrington,” Eddie chuckles uncomfortably, trying to prop the guy up, but Harrington just groans against him and balls the fabric of Eddie’s shirt up in his fists. “You good, man?”
“Dizzy,” he supplies in return and Eddie nods slowly. Harrington actually fucking nuzzles his face into Eddie’s neck and Eddie tries his very best not to let himself be affected by this, but fuck, he’s breathing hot sticky pants onto his skin and flexing his fingers into the fabric of Eddie’s shirt. Even worse, when Eddie goes to shift him, hoping to have him sit, he lets out a long high pitched whine that has Eddie’s brain melting. He coughs and shakes his head hard.
“Okay, Harrington, we’re gonna sit you down, okay? Think you can handle that for me, big boy?” He asks, putting on his best confident-flirty-unaffected persona to hide the fact that he’s actively thinking about Harrington making those noises in a very different context. Looking down, he sees the tips of Harrington’s ears go bright red with blush. Huh.
He leads them downwards and Harrington follows pliantly enough until he’s on the floor with his back leaning against the wall. Still, he refuses to let go of Eddie’s shirt. When he looks at Eddie, his pupils are so huge that you almost can’t see the lovely browns of his eyes - and isn’t that just a tragedy. Eddie hopes that he’s just high and that that’s not a symptom of a fatal concussion. Harrington looks at him now with those almost black eyes and blinks slow, like he’s struggling to focus. His head sways a little, then he smiles and reaches a hand up to Eddie’s face.
“Wow,” he breathes out, “You’ve got a nice face,” He says and Eddie snorts.
“Okay, definitely high. Can you tell me what you took?” Eddie asks, hoping he sounds patient and calm for Harrington’s sake, because in the back of his mind he’s trying to remember the protocol for when somebody OD’s.
“Truth serum,” Harrington says with a yawn, “You’re really pretty.” The implication of those two sentences next to each other make Eddie’s head reel a little, but he soldiers on.
“You think I’m pretty, Harrington? We’ll have to circle back to that when you’re not off-your-ass high,” He says and the guy snorts a laugh before his eyes roll closed and his grip on Eddie’s shirt goes slack. Oh fuck. “Hey! Hey, Harrington! Wake up!” He snaps his fingers and Harrington jolts upright.
“M’up. Just resting my eyes,” He slurs, looking around a little frantic before his eyes find Eddie again and his expression settles. “Wow,” He says again and Eddie rolls his eyes, ignoring the little swoop on his chest at the thought of Harrington being wowed at the sight of him.
“Yeah, pretty, got it. Look man, I think we really have to get you to a hospital.”
“No hospital,” Harrington insists, shaking his head in a way Eddie hates to admit that he thinks looks fucking cute. “I’ll be fine. Not my first concussion,” He says, knocking on his head on the opposite side to the bleeding gash on his temple.
“All the more reason to have someone check you out,” Eddie argues.
“You could check me out,” Harrington says, raising his eyebrows in a way that looks both endearing and painful and oh fuck is he flirting? Eddie’s eyes must go wide because he giggles and leans into him again, resting his forehead against the crook of Eddie’s neck. “Bet you could make me feel better,” He drawls, his breath hot against Eddie’s skin, and Eddie has to clear his throat, swallowing dryly. Okay, he thinks, definitely flirting.
Eddie can do flirting. If anything, he does flirting too much. There's not a friend he has that he doesn’t end up jokingly flirting with, and there have been far too many close calls when he’s been unable to resist responding to a homophobic bully with a teasing little jab that nearly ended with him getting punched. And the possibility that this is the only chance he’ll have to flirt with Steve fucking Harrington is an opportunity his gremlin brain just can’t ignore.
“Bet I could, sweetheart, you need a big strong man to look after you?” He teases, grinning when Harrington makes a quiet little whimper noise against his neck. “Alright, Stevie, I think we should get you home,”
“Already trying to take me home, Munson?” Harrington asks, the flirty tone of his voice undercut by the way it wavers a little, coming out breathy and delirious. “At least buy me dinner first.”
“Oh, yeah, you wanna be wined and dined, Harrington?” Eddie says with agrin but he feels Harrington brow furrow into a frown against his skin.
“What happened to Stevie?” He asks and god, who is Eddie to deny him?
“Okay, Stevie, let’s get you into bed. You need help getting up, sweetheart?” Eddie asks and Steve, because he’s Steve now, lolls his head back against the wall to look up at Eddie, a smirk on his face.
“Oh I can get it up just fine, especially if you’re getting me into bed,” He actually fucking bites his lip as he says it, seemingly oblivious to the way it makes blood coat his teeth. God, this isn’t actually happening. There’s no way. Eddie’s gotta be greened out in the back of his van or something. Maybe he hit his head, or someone laced his stash with something. Maybe this is a coma dream. What else would explain the absolute nonsense of Steve the hair Harrington, Eddie’s long term crush and fallen king of Hawkin’s High, bleeding all over himself while he flirts with the most endearing smile? He’s not stupid enough to think Steve being queer is impossible despite his vaguely homophobic jock reputation - Tommy Hagan called him a queer every day for three years and that boy was gayer than a pride parade - but Steve openly flirting with Eddie of all people, high or not, is simply too illogical to be real. A complete fuck you to every principle of the Munson Doctrine. And yet, Eddie pinches himself, and the scene doesn’t seem to change.
“Woah, Steve,” Eddie’s rambling thoughts are interrupted by Robin, who apparently managed to wander while his attention was on Steve. “Check this out, look at the ceiling,” Eddie looks over to her and finds her swaying on unsteady feet, her neck craned back to look at the bright lights of the mall ceiling. Nothing too interesting he thinks, but with whatever these two are on, he supposes it probably looks enchanting.
“Woah,” Steve echoes, clambering clumsily to his feet before Eddie can stop him, half walking/half crawling over to Robin. He looks up at the lights too and they sway together with enraptured faces for a moment before something seems to change. Deeply in sync, like something is tying them together, their faces both pale and curl into something nauseous and dizzy and before Eddie is even aware of what’s happening, they’re both taking off down the hall at full speed. He’s frozen in place as he hears a door swing open with a squeal and slam loudly behind them.
“What the fuck,” He mutters to himself, dragging his hair through his hands. He stays sat there for a minute, his mind racing, and he hears retching coming distantly from down the hall. He should probably go check on them, make sure Steve doesn’t choke on his vomit or something, but holy shit what? Excuse him for needing a second to wrap his head around this. He shakes his head hard like that might wake him up but when he opens his eyes, he’s still in the fucking mall, wet smears of Steve Harrington’s blood on his neck and hands. “What the fuck?”
love, you discover,
is not like in the fairytales
you read with your mama
before you went to sleep at night.
there is no prince charming
there are no glass slippers.
love, you discover,
is pain.
it’s confusing.
he hurts you.
put his fist to the wall
and then blamed you.
still insists he loves you.
you loved him back.
but
you feel nothing
but guilt and hurt
and shame.
and you harden your heart.
and wait for Death’s
hand to touch you.
but love, you discover,
creeps back up on you
and hits you
almost like a tidal wave.
it’s new. and it’s terrifying.
you go to bed with her every night
sinking into her kisses
entangling your legs together
watch the sunrise
glisten over the expanse of her chest
and love, you discover,
is found in her arms
in the octaves of her laugh
in the flush of her cheeks
in the rise and fall of her chest
love, you discover,
has always been in her arms.
and god,
it feels like h o m e.
Just as he’s collecting himself enough to decide to go find the two bloodied up sailors, two kids come running out of the movie theater, eyes searching around and frantic.
“Where the fuck would they go?”
“I can’t believe you stopped watching them!”
“Don’t blame me, it’s not my fault they’re acting crazy!”
The two squabble for a second before the older one, a boy that’s maybe twelve in a goofy bright outfit carrying a walkie talkie, spots him and his eyes go wide. He nudges the younger one, a girl who can’t be more than ten wearing fucking knee and shoulder pads and dungarees like a rollerblading safety poster child. She scowls at him before her eyes fall on Eddie. “Shit,” She says and Eddie laughs. He can’t help it, the image is just so ridiculous. This all American little child with colorful beads braided into her hair and a My Little Pony backpack swearing in his face. Another piece of this whole situation that’s just far too ridiculous to be real.
“I’m guessing you two are looking for the sailors?” He asks, keeping his voice as steady and nonchalant as he can, and the two kids exchange a distinct look before they nod. He stands up in one quick movement, ignoring the way the room spins a little, and starts off down the hall determinedly. When he hears no movement behind him, he calls over his shoulder, “You coming or not?” After a beat there’s a frantic scrabble as the kids run after him.
He’s fairly confident that Steve and Robin made their way to the nearest bathroom, since he could hear their vomiting not far off, so he shoves the door open and hopes his instincts are right. Sure enough, the two of them are splayed on the floor in one stall, fucking singing at each other.
As the door slams open they both freeze for a second, looking at Eddie and the two kids with wide eyes. Behind him, the boy shouts.
“Okay, what the hell?” There’s another beat of silence before Steve and Robin are falling over each other cackling. The kid huffs dramatically and starts muttering loudly, something along the lines of who’s the babysitter now, pacing into the room. He takes a couple laps back and forth, still muttering, before his eyes travel up and land on Eddie. “And who the fuck are you?” He asks. Eddie rolls his eyes. Being stupid and dramatic have gotten him this far…
“Eddie Munson, at your service,” He says, bowing dramatically, his arms held wide. The two kids look at him with expectant glances, clearly not enjoying the theatrics. “Dungeon master, resident freak, unfortunate finder of bloody sailors tortured by… Evil Russians. Apparently.” He dips his head before standing out of his bow as the two kids look at each other with wide eyes.
At the same time, they squawk out, “They told you about the Russians?” And “You play D&D?”
Eddie squints at them. “Yes, I play D&D and, yes, they told me about the imaginary Russians.” They make eye contact again and he is really not liking this little twin telepathy act they’ve got going on. “Okay, can we all back up a couple steps and let me into the loop on how Harrington apparently died today?” He asks and the boy’s jaw drops. He spins on his heel to look at Steve who’s still giggling with Robin.
“You died?” The kid yells and Steve looks at him, confused at first, but then with a wash of realization (like he somehow forgot that he apparently briefly died earlier, like it slipped off the end of his grocery list), and then cringes.
“Listen, Dustin,” He starts, but the kid cuts him off with octaves Eddie didn’t know were possible for the human ear to comprehend.
“I can’t believe you died and you weren’t gonna tell me!” The kid, Dustin apparently, shouts and Steve gives Eddie a look. A can you believe this fucking guy look and Eddie’s stomach swoops. To share an inside joke look, a moment of camaraderie, with Steve Harrington. Maybe Tommy Hagan had the right idea, Eddie can almost see himself selling his soul to the gods of conformity and group sports if it meant getting to share that look, that little moment with Steve every day.
What the fuck is reality, man.
“Seriously, Dustin, it wasn’t that big a deal. I was dead for like, two seconds. And I’m not dead now, am I?” Steve says and Dustin stammers a reply. “See? Great, problem solved,” Steve claps his hands together like he really believes there’s no problem, like his, albeit brief, literal death wasn’t a big deal. An enigma, truly.
“So, now that the room is spinning a little less, I think we should maybe, like, attempt to leave the building hiding a secret Russian base before we all, y’know, die?” Robin says quickly, her voice so fast Eddie can hardly keep up completely sober. How is her mouth functioning that fast while extremely high? No amount of puking can get you over a high that quick, not with any kind of drug Eddie knows of, and he considers himself pretty knowledgeable on the subject, if he does say so himself.
“Uh, I’m all for that idea as soon as we get past the huh?” Eddie pipes up, desperately trying to remind everyone in the room that this is… Fucking Insane? Why are they all so goddamn calm right now? Steve and Robin share a look (which totally doesn’t make Eddie jealous. Not at all. Nope) before splitting into fresh peals of laughter. Okay. Definitely still high.
“Do you have a car?” The little girl asks bluntly and Eddie is pretty sure he has whiplash because where did that come from. He looks at her blankly and she scowls impatiently. “Did. You. Drive. Here.” She shouts slowly like he’s either deaf or stupid or both.
“... I have a van.” He says reluctantly, very much not liking the way she looks at Dustin, a pointed big eyed look that has him snapping his fingers. “... Why?”
“You can drive us.” Dustin says, already walking towards the door.
“Wait, what?” Eddie shouts and the kids look at him like he’s an idiot.
“The Russian’s stole Steve’s car keys. You can help us get out of here,” Dustin says, walking backwards.
“I repeat, what?” Dustin rolls his eyes at him exasperatedly and Eddie can’t help but feel a little pissed off that an infant is being such a bitch about this.
“Just, help them up and come with me,” He groans and fuck. He’s in this now, Eddie guesses. Might as well see it through. He’s already missed the goddamn movie anyway.
And so Eddie finds himself accompanying two toddlers and two sailors, one of which he might be slightly hopelessly obsessed with, as they blend into the crowd coming out of the movie theater. God, he hopes he doesn’t run into Gareth. This would be… complicated to explain.
At the very least, Steve looks more lucid now, though it seems to be mostly a side effect of fear. He keeps twitching and checking over his shoulder anxiously, and his pupils are still blown wide, so he's definitely still high, but maybe on the tail end of it? Eddie can see him just barely resisting the urge to scrape his nails over his skin and he recognizes the phantom itching that flags the beginning of what is bound to be a really shitty couple of days for the two sailors. Come down’s a bitch.
“I might’ve told them your full name,” Eddie tunes into Steve’s apologetic voice as Dustin spins round to look at him.
“What is wrong with you?” Dustin hisses furiously.
“Dude I was drugged!” Steve defends, guilt thick in his voice, and Eddie can’t help but agree with his sentiment. The things he’s said while high? He would truly rather die than admit those things out loud. In fact, he’s pretty sure he waxed poetic about Steve’s ass to Jeff in far too much detail while high. Which was… Certainly an interesting way to come out to a person.
“So? You resist! You tough it out! You tough it out like a man!” The kid hisses and before Steve can defend himself, Eddie can’t resist the urge to smack the kid upside the head. It isn’t a hard hit, just enough to have his cap fall off and have him spin around to glare, but it’s satisfying all the same.
“That’s easy for you to say, kid. The guy got literal tortured, cut him some slack, jeez,” Eddie says and the kid gapes at him for a second before Robin is tapping at his shoulder.
“Um, guys?” She says, looking forward. They all follow her gaze as it lands on some guy. And that’s exactly what he is to Eddie, just some guy. Long hair, kinda tall, dressed in all black. He looks like the kinda guy you’d meet at a club and, well, you’d keep an eye on him. Maybe cover your drink if he came up to you. But not someone particularly intimidating. Apparently the others don’t agree, because as soon as the guy turns to look at them, they start sprinting in the opposite direction. It takes Eddie’s brain a second to catch up before he figures, oh shit. If they’re running… He chases after them.
This is insanity. This cannot be real life. Russian soldiers in Hawkins, Indiana. Sorry, scratch that, Russian Soldiers in Starcourt Mall, Hawkins, Indiana. Yeah. Completely plausible. He’d been willing to write off a lot of what Harrington and Buckley had said as the consequences of a bad trip and maybe the boyfriend of one of Harrington’s famous conquests joining the ranks of those deciding to beat the shit out of him. He had put a lot of effort in the last very trippy half hour into holding back his overactive imagination. But the look of pure terror on these guys' faces and the way they’re sprinting full pelt through the mall? Not to mention the sudden hoard of men in all black chasing after them? Eddie’s rational-explanation resolve is crumbling.
They come to the escalators and without hesitation the others all throw themselves down the center gap like a slide and, well, Eddie’s always wanted to do that. After a moment's hesitation, he follows suit and, yeah, it’s awesome. Would be more fun without the looming new revelation in his brain of YOU ARE BEING CHASED BY RUSSIAN SOLDIERS but, still pretty good. When he reaches the ground, he barely has time to move before Steve is grabbing him by the hand and pulling him up into a run. Suddenly all thoughts of potential mortal peril or honestly any higher brain function go out of his mind because Steve Harrington is holding his hand.
Steve tugs him hard and pushes him behind a counter where the others are all already huddled. Notably, he doesn’t let go, and they sit there, slumped thigh to thigh, holding hands. God, what a day. Steve’s chest is heaving and Eddie’s eyes roam over him on their own accord, taking in the beads of sweat on brow, the way his messy hair is tousled in this almost effortless sports model way despite everything, the pink flush of exertion on his cheeks, the blood staining his shirt- Okay, that snaps him out of it a little. Even he has to admit that it feels kinda… Unethical to ogle a guy who’s covered in his own blood. Still, Steve looks at him and shoots him a pained, terrified smile, like even through all this he’s trying to comfort Eddie, and Eddie can’t stop thinking about his lips.
Until a voice rings out behind them and yup, that is definitely a Russian accent. Eddie’s eyes flutter closed and he squeezes Steve’s hand tight, earning a tight squeeze in return, like Steve needs the contact as much as he does. Fuck. He guesses that that’s confirmation of everything. The red army is, for whatever goddamn reason, in Hawkins. And apparently, they want Steve Harrington dead. Is Steve a secret US spy? Is he actually forty years old and just posing as a recent high school graduate? There's no way. Eddie's known the guy, or known of him, since he moved in with Wayne when he was fourteen. Even the US government isn't doing long cons like that in Nowhere, Indiana. Right? That thought is followed very quickly by the sudden realization that the Russian soldiers that are willing to murder an 18 year old ice cream shop clerk probably also have no issues killing a super senior trailer trash drug dealer with very little living immediate family. Can he please reiterate, with emphasis, fuck.
Okay, so. He’s about to die. He’s 100% about to die, holding Steve Harrington’s hand and hiding behind a Great Cookie counter in the goddamn food court. In his, admittedly short, life, this has to be the most surreal experience by far. At least shit can’t get any weirder than this, he thinks.
And, as if some divine being heard that little snippet of his internal dialogue, a car flies through the air.
-
i was so not expecting the reaction to my dumb little writers block prompt filler but this was my first post on here to reach over 1000 notes so thank you all for your lovely responses! if you like my writing, please go check me out on AO3
also, i a) am a sucker for making steve's injuries worse and b)have read so much angst about robin thinking steve died, that I may have forgotten that Steve didn't actually briefly die in the russian basement. my bad. whatever, it's canon now ig.
tag list of everyone who asked nicely (other than the ones I inevitably missed, sorry). comment/tag/message me if you want to be added or removed. special thanks to everyone who was so polite about it and the really nice/unhinged comments :)
Eddie follows dumbly as Steve stands next to him, turning with the others to find another gaggle of children looking down at them from a balcony, and is that Zombie Boy Byers? No, backtrack, is that a hoard of middle schoolers? Why are there so many children involved in this? Or actually, how the fuck did a car just fly through the air?
The kids make their way down to the scene and everyone seems to collide in a rush of voices.
“You flung that thing like a Hot Wheel!” Dustin shouts as he hugs a girl with a bloody nose.
“Lucas?” The girl next to Eddie calls out.
A boy, probably Lucas, responds, “Erica? What are you doing here?”
My Little Pony girl, aka Erica, points at Steve, Robin and oh shit Eddie. “Ask them. It's their fault.”
Everyone looks at them and Eddie quickly realizes he’s still holding Steve’s hand. He snatches it back, but immediately misses the comfort.
“True, yeah. Totally true. It's absolutely our fault.” Steve admits, nodding and pulling his hands up to his hips, shifting his shirt to reveal a sliver of skin and stay focused Eddie.
“I don't understand what happened to that car.” Robin pipes up and Eddie could practically cheer. Thank god, another rational human who requires answers for the insanity that just happened. Someone who isn’t disturbingly calm right now.
“El has superpowers.” Okay, all rationale gone.
“I’m sorry?” Robin says, right as Eddie says “The fuck?” (Same sentiment, different approaches).
“Superpowers. She threw it with her mind. C'mon, catch up.” Steve says nonchalantly, but Eddie can see the ghost of a smile on his face and oh, this motherfucker is enjoying this.
Someone else goes to speak but Eddie thinks he might literally explode if this goes on another second. “Okay,” He starts, taking his turn in the din of voices, “so we’re all seeing the dead guys, right? The ones that got crushed by the flying car?” Eyes snap up to him and he suddenly feels like maybe that was a stupid question, because somehow no one else seems fazed by the actual fucking corpses.
“I’m sorry, who are you?” Nancy Wheeler, who is involved in all of this apparently, asks.
“I’m Eddie,” Nancy looks at him blankly. “I found the sailors,” He points over his shoulder at Robin and Steve with his thumb and Robin waves nervously.
“Robin,” She says, “I work with Steve.”
“She cracked the top secret code.”
“Yeah, which is how we found out about the Russians.”
“Russians? Wait, what Russians?”
“The Russians!”
“Those were Russians?”
Eddie thinks he might pass out. Actually, that might be a good plan. Maybe if he hits his head hard enough, he might wake up from whatever bizarro world he stumbled into. The giant extended gang continue rambling on about a code red and the gate, but Eddie can’t really hear them. He stumbles back from the group a little in an attempt to get away from the muffled shouting that’s too quiet and too loud all at once. His head feels a bit like it’s being stuffed with cotton balls, or maybe being completely deprived of oxygen, and that passing out thing might actually be happening before a shout and a thump tug him out of his head. The girl with the bloody nose, the one who apparently has superpowers, which is a thing now, has dropped to the floor and is writhing in agony.
Eddie, somehow the nearest to her, lurches forward to try and help her. She grabs at his wrist and squeezes painfully, but when he sees the bandage on her leg move, he can’t really complain. In fact, he’s pretty sure he stops feeling pain at that point. The others gather round unwrap the bandage, revealing a black fucking wound that’s oozing and, of fuck, definitely moving. There’s something under her skin, crawling around. Eddie might throw up. Or rather, Eddie will throw up, it’s just a matter of when, because he’s pretty sure that image will sit behind his eyes any time he tries to eat anything for the rest of his life, and there’s no way anything will be staying down.
The girl, who Eddie is pretty sure he heard the others call El, claws at his wrist and tugs him closer. Numbly, he wraps an arm around her and tries to zone into the task of comforting her as the chaos happens around him. It’s all happening so fast, people screaming and babbling and holy shit Jonathan Byers has a knife. The girl is burying her face into the crook of some boys neck, still clinging to Eddie’s arm, and Jonathan Byer is fucking cutting her open and digging his fingers into her. God, he’s definitely going to throw up.
Suddenly El is pushing him off. “I can do it,” She says weakly, and it takes her letting go of him and raising her hand into a claw for Eddie to realize that she’s about to take care of this herself. With psychic mind powers. Holy shit. Holy shit!
He’s never understood the sentiment of not being able to look away from a car crash before, thought it was honestly a little ridiculous of a phrase. But now, he gets it. His eyes are glued to the writhing flesh on El’s leg like he’d die if he stopped watching, or like she might. Which, honestly doesn’t seem off the table. The way she’s screaming definitely sounds like something that’d come out of your mouth right before you died. If they make it out of this alive, he should really get this girl into metal, because she’s got a hell of a set of lungs on her. It might raise a couple eyebrows to have a thirteen year old in his band, but superpowers sure would make carrying amps a lot easier.
He would love to let his mind wander into a world where he gets to adopt a super human pre-teen into the worlds most metal band, but unfortunately his brain won’t let him. Not when said pre-teen is ripping a wriggling very much alive thing out of her leg and tossing it across the room. With an ear-splitting crash, the store front window behind him shatters- no, explodes, sending glass ricocheting across the floor. He barely has time to take cover and catch his breath from the terror of it, his ears ringing, before he’s looking up and sees possibly the last person he’d like to see right now.
Chief fucking Hopper.
Hopper plants his boot hard down on whatever that thing is, killing it with a wet crunching squelch that has nearly has Eddie tasting his lunch again. In front of him, El attempts to sit up but collapses back, slumping into Eddie’s lap with an exhausted oof sound. On pure instinct, he runs a hand through her curls and shushes her in a way he hopes sounds comforting.
“You did great, supergirl,” He murmurs quietly into her hair as he helps her lug herself upright. She clings to him a little limply and suddenly on either side of him are Steve, supporting El’s back, and Hopper, skidding on his knees to hold her frantically. Eddie almost gives in to the impulse to shield her away from Hop - he’s not the worst cop on the force, but he’s still a cop, and if Russian soldiers are hiding out under the mall then Eddie would absolutely not put it past them to have infiltrated the Hawkins PD - but El lurches forward as soon as he gets close enough and he’s tugging her into a tight desperate hug. She cries against him, full body shaking sobs, and Hopper looks so overcome with emotion that he could cry too. Shit, Eddie hasn’t seen the man have an expression other than anger or general indifference since he moved here (granted, the angry look was usually trained at Eddie mid arrest), but now he has this protective, practically loving look all over his face and it’s almost ridiculous how out of place it is.
Eddie looks over to Steve, crouched at his side, still with one supporting hand on El’s back. Steve catches his eye and mouths dad, and isn’t that a thought. Jim Hopper apparently has a daughter. A secret teenage daughter. A secret teenage daughter with superpowers. Eddie really should stop being surprised by these things, his whole barometer for strange things has been completely busted, probably for life.
Eventually, Hopper pulls El out of the hug and grins at her, says something about being worried and glad she’s okay and so proud and it’s almost the sweetest thing Eddie’s ever seen, but then Hopper is looking at him and his blood runs cold.
“Munson,” He says with gritted teeth and Eddie, otherwise completely frozen, nods minutely. “What are you doing here?”
It’s Steve that comes to his rescue, “He’s with me,” He says and doesn’t that just set Eddie’s chest swooping.
“Did you beat him up?” Hop asks angrily and Eddie raises his arms in surrender.
“No! No, I found him like that, I swear. That was all Russians,” He insists and, after a confirming nod from Steve, Hopper concedes and seems to believe him.
“Not to break up this lovely moment but I think we need a plan here,” Nancy calls from over Hop’s shoulder, jolting him out of this little confrontation Eddie has found himself in. Everyone seems to agree with her, and they all start to split apart, rambling and catching each other up once again, this time with the added information from Hopper, Joyce Byers, and a balding man in shorts that Eddie thinks should be illegal. Well, maybe they’d work on Steve… Not a productive train of thought.
With everyone split off into their groups, Eddie somehow finds himself once again sitting alone with Steve Harrington, still crouched where he’d been supporting El a moment ago. He crosses his legs and sits as he rakes an anxious hand through his bangs, pushing them off his sweaty brow and looking all together far too good for a guy who died today. He runs his tongue over his bottom lip, sweeping up the blood caked there, and god Eddie would love to do it for him. What he wouldn’t give to run his tongue over Steve Harrington’s mouth, or any part of his skin he could get his mouth on, or his hands, or-
“You alright, man?” Steve asks, snapping Eddie out of his train of thought. He realizes all at once that he’d been staring at Steve’s mouth and he feels his face flush scarlet with embarrassment. Hopefully he can chalk that up to being woefully out of shape and just running from an literal army of Russians.
He snaps back into confident-quippy-flirty mode as best he can. “You alright, he asks. The guy who died today is asking me if I’m alright,” He teases, rolling his eyes, and to his delight, Steve actually snickers, shaking his head at the ground. He looks back up at Eddie and something in his eyes softens.
“Seriously, you okay? First time is always a little… Rough,” He says, reaching up to scratch the back of his neck awkwardly then wincing as his muscles shift, his other arm coming up to clutch at his side where Eddie would bet he probably has a broken rib. He’s so caught up in his concern/busy filing away the little panting noise Steve makes for future reference that it takes him a second to process what he’s been asked.
“First time? Are you telling me you’ve been kidnapped by Russians before?” He asks with a raised brow and Steve laughs.
“Okay, no, first time for the Russians. But this isn’t the first time things have gotten… Interesting in Hawkins.” He says before pointing his chin at El, who’s huddled on the edge of the big fountain in the center of the room with Hopper. “First time I saw her throw a monster with her mind in ‘84 I was pretty sure I was going insane,” Eddie’s eyes must widen because Steve laughs again, “Sure, I probably should’ve been used to weird shit by then since I’d already seen a full Demogorgon in ‘83, but I guess you don’t ever really get used to this stuff,” He shrugs, like he’s having a normal casual conversation and not talking about monsters and telekinesis and Demogorogons. Speaking of which-
“Demogorgon?” Steve nods, “Like in D&D?” Steve rolls his eyes.
“God, not you too, I already have to hear about that nerd shit enough whenever I hang out with Dustin. Don’t tell me I’ve just adopted myself another dork - you two are totally gonna gang up on me,” He groans and Eddie almost has time to be offended before he thinks about what Steve just said.
“King Steve wants to hang out with little ol’ me?” He says with a smirk and Steve, fucking perfect, unpredictable, flirted with Eddie while on truth serum Steve blushes.
He clears his throat and gives Eddie a bashful smile, “You’re part of the party now, man. You can be our bard,”
“Steve Harrington using D&D terms? Be still my aching heart,” Eddie says without thinking and Steve grins at the floor, his ears still pink. “What does that make you?”
“I don’t play, but Dustin said I was a paladin, I think,” He says with a furrowed brow as he tries to remember the word, “I’m not 100% sure on what that means, but I said as long as I can swing a bat at the bad guys head he can call me what he likes,”
Eddie grins at that, definitely not letting his mind travel back to Steve’s arms swinging a baseball bat at the park, wearing those tight little shorts he’d always work out in- Focus! He hums, “Paladin. Makes sense. Lawful good warrior, strict code of conduct. I’ve always been more of a chaotic neutral kinda guy, but it definitely works for you,” He says and Steve groans.
“I’m telling you, my life is over. This is karma. I've been cursed to only have nerd friends till the day I die,”
“Which was today apparently,” Eddie says without thinking and Steve’s expression darkens, an anxious pinch forming between his brows.
“They were gonna hurt Robin if I didn’t… I tried to get them to focus on me. I didn’t know they’d go so hard, but I don’t regret it.” He looks over at Eddie and apparently catches Eddie’s shocked face. “Don’t look at me like that, man, you would’ve done the same thing,”
“That’s the thing, Stevie, I don’t think I would’ve.” Steve bites his lip, “Paladin fits. Lawful good,” That drags a smile out of Steve, albeit a small one, but Eddie could cheer at the quirk of his lips. “Speaking of Buckley, where is your first mate? I thought you two were attached at the hip,”
Steve looks over his shoulder till he finds Robin gathered with Nancy and Jonathan. The two sailors share a look like they’re communicating telepathically (which Eddie supposes might be possible in this new bizarro world he’s found himself in) and when Steve looks back at Eddie he’s flushing furiously.
“She’s uh,” He stammers, fiddling with the back of his neck again, “She might be uh, playing wingwoman and manufacturing a situation right now, based on something I told her while we were high,” He says, catching Eddie’s gaze with a nervous glint in his eyes, something in his expression like he’s trying to tell Eddie something silently. Eddie has never been all that great at the whole social cues thing, even when he’s not running on pure adreneline, so he struggles for a while to figure out what Steve’s saying. He looks back over at Robin and sees her talking to Nancy…
“Oh,” He says, realization flooding him all at once, along with an unearned spike of jealousy and disappointment. Steve looks at him twitchily, running his tongue over his split lip. “I think you’re out of luck there, man,” Steve’s face falls and Eddie feels so desperately bad for him that he has to go on, “I’m pretty sure she’s going steady with Byers. But hey, maybe I’m reading it wrong. I know you guys were together last year, maybe you’ve got a shot-”
“Huh?” Steve cuts him off, squinting with confusion. “What are you talking about?”
Eddie falters, “Uh, Nancy?”
“Nancy? What does Nancy have to do with this?”
“The girl Robin is playing matchmaker with right now?” Steve stares at him blankly. “I think you’re still a little loopy, Harrington. How many fingers am I holding up?” He holds up a middle finger with a smirk and Steve gives him a deadpan look.
“Ha ha,” He says, unamused, before looking back at Nancy. When he meets Eddie’s gaze again he looks a little heartbroken. “Yeah, I think I’m still high. Sorry. Forget I said anything,”
Eddie looks at him skeptically but Steve shoots him this pleading look and he decides to humor him. “Okay, so can we circle back to the whole monsters are real thing because I’m really having trouble wrapping my head around this,”
Steve laughs gratefully and Eddie thinks he’d like to hear that sound for the rest of his life. “I don’t super get it myself. I’m not really the explaining things guy. I’m more of the tell me the plan and I’ll hit someone about it guy. What did Dustin call it… The tank,” He says, beaming like he’s proud he remembered and god Eddie wants to kiss that smile. Apparently reformed jocks covered in blood and talking about D&D with big goofy grins is his ultimate turn on. Luckily, as if on cue, Dustin shouts from across the room.
“Hey shitheads! Get over here and listen to the plan!”
Steve graces Eddie with that shared look again, that roll of his eyes at Dustin’s attitude that has Eddie’s skin buzzing, before standing up and offering Eddie a hand. Eddie thinks that really he should be the one helping Steve up - the man looks like he should barely be able to stand for fucks sake - but Eddie takes one look at that beautifully tanned hand with it’s perfectly manicured nails and smattering of moles, and he takes it into his own without hesitation. He’s better able to appreciate it now that he’s not actively running from Russians, the strong curve of Steve’s palm, the warmth of his skin, his golden tan against Eddie’s shock of pale. Steve helps lug him up and if Eddie lets their hands linger together a little longer than necessary, that’s nobody's business.
-
Thanks so much for reading and all the nice comments on the last parts! Sorry this took so long - concussions are a bitch and I've been super busy but we're back to writing now.
As always, check my writing out out here on AO3 or at @mintcakeart for my art
Tag List - unfortunately ran out of space to tag everyone so I did it first-come-first-serve, sorry to everyone who was missed! comment or message to be removed at any time :)
Eddie - i just stubbed my toe and i’m going to make it everyone else’s problem - Munson vs Steve - i broke my leg but didn’t notice and kept walking on it for a week - Harrington
also
Eddie - i’m going to take care of you whether you like it or not asshole - Munson vs Steve - who needs medical attention when i have Tylenol and spite - Harrington
also also
Eddie waking up from a bat bite induced coma and Steve never hearing the end of it for the rest of their relationship (“i literally died Stevie i think i deserve the last slice of pizza”)
OH MY GOD OKAY Steve Harrington, fallen from grace ex rich boy who goes low contact with his parents to pursue his dreams (and start raising a child as a teenager) aka Lorelai Gilmore, and Eddie Munson, small town working class guy that's grumpy and weird but completely smitten for him Luke Danes
this came into my head and i immediately bolted out of bed i can feel a oneshot coming on oh god too many wips in the brain rot pile
