This Give and Take (part 2)
Steddie| Pre-Season 3| No Warnings| 2.7 K words
Part 1 here
January 1985
Eddie still has the letterman.
It is slowly driving him insane. He doesn’t know what to do with it.
He’d tried to give it to Harrington that first Monday at school, had tucked it away into the front seat of Wayne’s barrowed truck, hidden beneath paper and random junk so no one walking past would spot the bright green and white through the window. The opportunity had just never presented itself.
And kept not presenting itself until suddenly it was winter break, and Eddie had moved the jacket from Wayne’s front seat to the back of his finally fixed van. And when winter break ended…
Well, Eddie still has the jacket. He’s thought up several scenarios in which he gives it back. All bad. So bad. One of them was even showing up at the guy's house. Which, no. Absolutely not. What if his parents see Eddie? That’s not a good look for either of them. A drug dealer and the captain of the basketball and swim team? No thanks, Eddie doesn't actually want to go to jail.
“You’re killing me,” he tells the jacket for what has to be the millionth time.
It, obviously, does and says nothing, but Eddie feels taunted either way.
It shouldn’t be this hard to return someone's property. He just has to corner the guy and, like, throw it or something.
Maybe he can just leave it in school, drop it on a desk or a lunch table without being noticed. It’s not like it’s not glaringly obvious who the jacket belongs to. It has Harrington's name right across the back of it. The jacket would find its way to Steve Harrington eventually but…
Harrington had been nice enough to give Eddie a ride and the jacket when he was cold. Eddie doesn’t feel right just dropping it anywhere like he’s not grateful. He doesn’t want Harrington to assume he’d treat kindness so callously. Eddie was raised by right, despite what people think of him, and Wayne Munson didn't raise an ungrateful little shit.
So, he still has the damn jacket.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“You’re overthinking this,” Jeff tells him Thursday morning, a full week after winter break has ended and Eddie is no closer in ridding himself of the jacket.
“I am thinking the required amount, Jeffery.”
Jeff snorts. “It’s a jacket. You just walk over there and hand it to him. Say thanks, make a pithy comment and leave.”
“Sure,” Eddie nods. “If it’s really that easy, why don’t you walk over there and give Harrington the jacket for me.”
Jeff looks over at the table where Steve Harrington is sitting. It’s not with Perkins and Hagan, but it is still with jocks and cheerleaders, the table a riotous mess of color and laughter. They’re all so pretty and perfectly put together, Eddie might actually leave a smudge if he steps foot on their side of the room.
“No,” Jeff says after a beat. “No, I will not be doing that.”
Eddie groans. “Maybe I can make the freshman do it.”
“Gareth would gnaw off his own arm before he went on that side of the cafeteria.”
Eddie looks back over to the table and freezes when he sees that Harrington is looking over at him too. He’s nodding along to something someone is saying, but his eyes are on Eddie, a little frown pulling at his mouth, there just for a moment and then gone, his attention swinging back to the guy laughing beside him.
Fuck, had Harrington noticed they were looking and talking about him? They weren’t exactly being subtle.
Does he think Eddie was talking badly? Eddie’s known for waxing poetic about his dislike for jocks and, admittedly, Harrington has been the star of a few of Eddie’s rants in the past but that was… forever ago. Eddie hasn’t singled out Harrington since 83. He hasn’t really needed to, the guy kind of doesn’t do anything to anyone anymore. He’s just sort of there.
Eddie stares at the side of Harrington's face, willing him to look back over so that Eddie can gauge his expression. He doesn’t look back though, no matter how hard Eddie stares holes into him.
Fuck.
Harrington is probably regretting ever giving Eddie a ride or lending him his jacket. The jacket that Eddie has so obviously not returned yet. He probably wishes he’d let Eddie freeze to death on the side of the road – god what is wrong with Eddie? Jesus, that’s probably what Harrington is thinking too now.
Wait, what if Harrington thinks Eddie’s holding the jacket hostage, for like a payout or something? Black mail? A ‘The fallen king gave the freak a ride home, give me your wallet or I tell everyone and ruin your social status even more’ kind of situation.
Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Harrington absolutely thinks Eddie is the devil or just a massive piece of shit.
“Okay, you’re definitely over thinking now,” Jeff says around a fry. “Stop it.”
Eddie drops his head to the table with a loud thunk. All he wanted was to go to the bar in Indy and make out with a hot guy before coming home. Now he’s in a whole complex situation he has no idea how to get out of without looking like a weirdo. Or a stalker. Or some kind of shithead that wants money. And he’s not, he’s so very not any of those things. Except weird, he's a little word he can admit that but not… like weird-weird.
“Kill me,” Eddie says into the lacquered wood, banging his head for good measure.
“I would but then who would keep me entertained. It’s not like Gareth gets into these kinds of situations.
Eddie hates Jeff.
Almost as much as he hates himself.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
January 23rd, 1985
January is probably the longest month in existence. It inches along at a snail's pace leaving Eddie entirely too aware of the passage of time. Days are passing, too many days between now and when Steve Harrington had given him a ride home. It’s encroaching on awkward now, too awkward to just hand the jacket over. Eddie needs a moment, a reason. He needs some divine entity to step in and give him a fucking break.
“Jesus Christ,” Eddie says when he leaves school later than usual and finds the parking lot empty save for one Steve Harrington.
He’s sitting on the trunk of his car, legs kicking idly, a frown pulling at his mouth. The two tires that Eddie can see on the drivers side are flat, rubber split like that were intentionally slashed open.
Okay, so it wasn’t a divine entity giving him a chance but it was probably one of the two major assholes that run the school.
“Was it Hargrove or Hagan?”
Harrington blinks, head snapping to look over at Eddie in surprise. “My guess is both, it was probably Billy’s idea and Tommy would have done it to please him.”
There’s several jokes Eddie wants to make about that but he holds them in, certain they would not blow over well with the present company.
“Thought you and Hagan were best friends.”
Harrington shrugs. “People change.”
Eddie’s starting to get that. He’s starting to think that maybe Steve Harrington isn’t exactly what he thought.
“Want a ride home,” Eddie asks, “or are you good?”
“Wait, really?” Harrington looks surprised by the offer.
“No, I’m going to let you freeze to death out here.”
“It’s not that cold,” Harrington says. “It’s not even snowing.”
Eddie looks around the empty parking lot. “If you wanna stick around here, I won’t stop you, but I don’t think anyone else is going to be coming to your rescue.”
Harrington looks around too and sort of shrugs. “I was going to walk.”
“To Loch Nora?” Eddie scoffs. “I know you're a big bad jock, Harrington, but that’s a bit much even for you. You’d be walking in the dark.”
“It’s not like I’d get hit by a car or something, I think I’m pretty visible.” Harrington gestures down to the bright yellow sweater he has on.
Eddie shrugs, hands lifting in a quiet surrender. ‘Fine, you wanna walk, be my guest, it’s not like I can stop you, but… I mean, I’m here and I have a van, I can give you a ride if you want one.”
“If you don’t mind,” Harrington says slowly, “Yeah, I’ll take a lift.”
“Cool.” Eddie nods towards his van. “Your chariot awaits.”
Harrington snorts. “My hero.”
The moment Harrington starts climbing into the van, Eddie is hit with approximately a hundred different things to worry about. He wants to leave the windows down to air out the heavy scent of weed that no doubt clings to the seats and the carpeting. It’s way too cold for that though so he settles on giving Harington a tight smile as he starts up the van and eases it out of the parking lot.
“How come you were still at school?”
Eddie blinks at the sudden question. He glances over and sees Harrington staring at him. “I’m running a campaign tomorrow, I was setting up some last minute things.”
“Campaign?” There’s a soft hum and then he says, “Like for that demogorgon game?”
Eddie has to slam pretty quickly on the brakes when he nearly sails through a stop sign in surprise. He swivels in his seat to look at Steve harrington. “Hold the fuck up, you know what a demogorgon is?”
“No.”
“No– you just said–”
“I know some kids that play a game and they talk about that nerdy shit like all the time and reference it for– uh, like, moments and real life shit that happens, that’s all.” He looks a little awkward suddenly, his hands running through his hair, pushing it away from his face as he stares out the windshield. “I don’t actually know what any of it is.”
“What kids do you know?” Eddie tries to think of a single child he’s ever seen with Steve Harrington and comes up empty. The guy is an only child, famously so. Everyone knows he sits pretty all alone in that big house of his.
“Nancy Wheeler – um, she’s my ex–”
Eddie snorts. He knows who Nancy Wheeler is.
“Anyway, she’s got this kid brother, an absolute shithead named Mike – I babysit him sometimes and his little nerd friends too.”
Huh.
“You babysit?”
“Sometimes.”
“People let you?”
“Fuck you,” Harrington huffs, “I’m a damn good babysitter.”
“I’ll have to take your word for it,” Eddie laughs and finally eases off the brake.
Silence lapses between them, Eddie paying more attention to the road now. He’s going through their conversation, trying to wrap his head around this strange version of Steve Harrington. It’s after several long moments of not talking that Eddie wonders what else he’s assumed about the guy and got wrong and what Steve Harrington thinks about him.
He remembers the jacket and the week before at lunch when Harrington absolutely clocked Jeff and Eddie talking about him.
“I don’t want your money,” Eddie says, so sudden and loud that Harrington flinches in surprise. His elbow cracks against the window sharply and he curses.
Eddie winces in sympathy. “Shit, sorry, I didn’t mean to yell.”
Harrington blinks at him. “Okay, I, uh, wasn’t offering you money, unless this is that thing where you say one thing but mean the other… the reverse mind game thingy.” He pulls out his wallet, brows still furrowed. “Should I be giving you money for the ride? I know gas isn’t cheap and it’s not like I live anywhere near you.”
“What, no, it’s not reverse psychology, I’m— shit, I’m not asking for money. I do not want your money. You better not pull out a single bill, Harrington, so help me I will shove it down your throat.”
“Okay,” he lowers his hand with the wallet to his lap. He looks confused now, thumb slipping in and out between the billfold like he’s second guessing what he’s supposed to be doing.
“Your jacket,” Eddie explains. “I still have your jacket and I just wanted to let you know that you can have it back for free.”
“Oh.” He huffs a little breath, something like a quiet but incredulous laugh. “Okay, thanks, that’s nice of you.”
“It’s not about being nice, I’m — I’m not holding it hostage.”
“I never thought you were, man.” His head tilts, a lock of hair falling into his face. “Did you think I did?”
Eddie wishes he had a cigarette right now. He waves around his hand instead, gesturing vaguely between them. “I don’t know, it’s just been a while since you let me borrow it and I felt bad.”
Harrington shrugs. “It’s just a jacket.”
“It’s a letterman,” Eddie tells him seriously. “To jocks, that's like a knight's armor.”
He’s not looking, so Eddie doesn’t see the amusement, but he hears it when Harrington says, almost laughingly, “Sure.”
“I’m serious and, look, I know it was kind of obvious last week that I was talking about you but it wasn’t bad I was just trying to figure out how to give you back your jacket.”
“Oh,” Harrington says again and this time it sounds a little more relieved. “You know you could have just handed it back.”
“Absolutely not.” Eddie shakes his head. “No.”
“Why?”
“You’re Steve Harrington.”
“I’m aware.”
“If I handed you your jacket back at school, what do you think would happen?”
“I would have my jacket back.”
Eddie looks over at him and sees that he’s serious. “If Hargrove saw it would be over for you man. Eddie-the-Freak giving you back your letterman? Come on, you would be exiled entirely.”
“Exiled from what?” Harrington waves a hand. “It’s not like he can stop me from going to school. And I’m really not worried about him, he’s just a jackass.
“He’s a total psycho.”
Harrington rubs a hand over his jaw. It’s healed but Eddie remembers the early months of November when Harrington had shown up all beaten to hell. Hargrove had been wearing a bruised cheek for a while but that was nothing in comparison to the devastation of Harrington's face.
“I’ve faced worse things than Billy Hagrove,” Harrington says and there's something in his voice that makes Eddie believe him.
“Yeah, but did those worse things slash your tires,” Eddie asks. “That’s going to cost you a pretty penny, man.”
Harrington sighs. “Yeah, it’s definitely going to suck to explain to my folks.”
Eddie gets that. His tires have been slashed a few times too many, and Wayne is always both rightfully frustrated with the assholes of Hawkins and concerned for Eddie’s well-being. Eddie always ends up coddled a little more than necessary until things blow over again, but he doesn’t really mind. It’s nice having Wayne worry about him. It’s nice having anyone worry.
“Alright, home-sweet-home, Harrington,” Eddie says, letting the van idle at the curb. He’s a little worried about Harrington's parents seeing him or one of the neighbors peeking out and recognizing the van. The only time Eddie is ever in Loch Nora is when he’s dealing for a party and people know that, unfortunately. Also, his van is loud as shit ever since someone stole his catalytic converter and he doesn’t have the funds just yet to pay for a new one.
“Thanks for the ride,” Harrington says once he’s hopped out. He pauses, leans back in the open door and says, “You know you can call me Steve, Munson.”
Then the door is slamming shut and Steve is bounding up the long walkway to his mansion.
Eddie snorts. “That’s not happening.” He hurries out of there when he sees the pretty lace curtains across the street move like some nosy-nancy is peeking out at him. “Christ.”
It’s only after Eddie makes it back home that he realizes he never told Steve the jacket was in the back of the van. He swivels around in his seat and sees it there. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
A whole fifteen minutes, most of which revolved around talking about the damn jacket and still Eddie hadn’t managed to give it to him.
He calls Jeff the moment he gets inside and laments about it until Jeff hangs up on him. He debates on calling Gareth but the little shit would probably make fun of him and then hang up too.
“Tomorrow,” Eddie tells the ceiling. “I’ll just hand it over and that will be that. No more Steve Harrington.”
People who wanted to be tagged in part 2: @friendlyneighborhoodgaycousin @n0-1-important @im-sam-fucking-winchester (glad you guys enjoyed part 1)
