Today was a really bad day to learn monsters were real.
Not that there's really a good day Eddie supposes, in the middle of running for his life, but he does sort of wish things had taken place prior to him having been accused of murder.
Raises the gun he's stolen from Rick's house as he and the younger members of Hellfire flee for their lives, taking aim at the third (fourth!?) enormous pale humanoid-plant-thing that's barreling towards them.
It's got a dog collar on.
Eddie chooses to pretend he didn't see it.
"Not that one!" Henderson shrieks, as the new horror launches itself at the monster behind Eddie, both going down hard with a series of shrill clicks and whistles. "That ones ours!"
Which--what??
"What!?" Eddie shrieks, and knows his face is doing something crazy.
"That's Dart!" Lucas confirms, way less out of breath than anyone else, because of course he is. Fucking bastetball. "It's a long story, but Dustin kind of adopted it when it was small."
"And where Dart is--" Henderson cuts himself off with a whoop and a loud scream of "Steve!" as the motherfucking former king of Hawkins strolls behind Dustin's pet horror, holding a bat with blood soaked nails hammered in it.
He's got a retractable leash in his hands.
Eddie has the worst feeling it goes to the fucking monster's collar.
(Why the hell would Harrington have Dustin's pet monster!??)
"Dart kinda only listens to him and Nancy," Mike answers through shaky breaths, which promptly clues Eddie into the fact he accidentally said that out loud. "And since we don't have a spot for it in the house it lives with Steve."
"Dammit Dart, would you stop toying with them!" Steve himself yells, before making a furious sort of gesture at Henderson as he fucking strolls on past. "And you! You're in deep shit!"
"Yeah I always am." Dustin grumbles back in that signature fucking tone of his and Eddie really, truly, wants to lose his shit, except Harrington is shaking the bat out and holy shit, he's going to play back up hitter for the fucking monster in the world's tightest fucking jeans.
This is hell. Eddie has died, and entered fucking hell.
"This is the worst fucking day of my life." He announces, as Dart slams another monster down in front of Steve, and Steve in turn slams the bat down on it's head.
It shouldn't be hot.
(It's super hot.)
"Worst day of your life, so far." Dustin says, which is the moment that Eddie decides he could in fact, bring himself to hit a child.
"Yeah just wait, it gets worse." Mike adds.
'Two children.' Eddie thinks in return, trying not to gape as Steve works in perfect unison with his abomination. He could hit two children and then himself, because fuck if he ever needed to know Steve was some sort of demonic-creature pet tamer!
'You're kind of a demonic creature. Think he could tame you?' His very unhelpful inner voice prompts and no, the children are definitely wrong--
"Are you fucking kidding m-" Gareth throws his hands up pushing away from the table. "You know what, nope. Fucking jocks man."
The guys all laugh, Eddie included, while they watch the interview they were tagged in on their socials - like a million times. They're not sure why they've been tagged, other than some random (to their fans) person not recognizing Gareth but maybe there's more that happens later. Like some karmic justice enacted out by way of a storm cloud forming above Steve Harrington's head.
They're doing a reaction video and Jeff is hamming it up more than normal, wrapping an arm around Gareth and messing up his hair while Eddie and Grant watch on.
"Alright, focus," Grant finally pushes between the two.
Eddie leans forward, readying to resume the video, "Yeah - I want to see what happens next. Maybe we'll see a bird shit on his pretty little head."
"Oh god, the hair!" And that's all it takes, the room is full of laughter once again.
Once they play it again, the rest seems pretty tame, aside from watching little challenges or extra questions. Eddie really isn't sure what their fans were losing their shit for. Other than learning that Steve apparently has a thing for guys, which Eddie will revisit later in the privacy of his own room, the video has been a let down. Except for Gareth, who Steve did say smash to, at least. A tick in the confidence column for that man, even if he wasn't into men. Lucky bastard.
Why couldn't Chrissy just show his pho-
It's simultaneously the worst and best moment of his life when his photo lights up the side panel and he's launching himself forward, smashing buttons on the computer until the video finally, blessedly stops. "Oh my god, no. Nope! I cannot, we can't." Eddie is shouting, trying to breathe and disappear all at once while the guys are protesting in the background.
"Oh my god," Eddie steps back, hands tearing at the tie before his hair cascades down his shoulders, hiding and shielding him. "I can't breathe, I can't." He really can't breathe, holy shit. He can't watch, on a recorded video, as Steve Harrington announces to the world that he has no idea who Eddie is, or listen as Steve tells everyone that Eddie's just an ugly trash gremlin. Fuck.
What if he does remember Eddie but only because he was trailer trash or –
Ice cold water splashes over him, leaving him to sputter as now soaking wet strands of hair stick to his nose and lips.
"Dude! Pull yourself together," Jeff, normally the most patient, shakes Eddie's shoulder. "Do you want to go to the other room while we watch?"
He's quiet with the question, they don't ever pause their recordings, wanting their fans to experience all of them. They aren't just a sellout, they aren't posing as the self-proclaimed freaks. They really are what they've branded themselves. Their just like their fans, even if they've climbed quickly into the spotlight.
"Eddie?"
"N-no, I'm good." Eddie, eyes wide, looks at Jeff and begs the universe for this to be over quickly.
They set up, once again, to watch the video, the guys now surrounding Eddie in solidarity, while Gareth reaches forward to resume the video.
Nothing happens at first, Steve's face is still furrowed in what appears to be confusion, and if this weren't about him, Eddie would be the first to tease about him having jock brain.
"It's alright if you don't know, you didn't kn-" Gareth, he didn't know Gareth. Which is just unreal. It's not like their group didn't stand out in school.
"Munson?" The air leaves the room, holy shit.
"Holy shit!" Eddie shouts, nearly punching Grant in the nose from how hard he throws his fist up and he's shushed by all three. And thank whatever overlord they have for that because, "Absolutely smash."
Smash.
SMASH.
"Would pass everyone else for a cha-." Someone must have paused the video again because Steve's stupid perfect, pretty face is frozen and the guys are all jostling Eddie.
Holy shit.
"Wait - the asshole didn't remember me!" Gareth whines into the chaos, forehead dropping sharply into Eddie's shoulder.
"He doesn't want to suck your dick, either." Eddie shoves him off, spinning in a circle before facing the biggest crush of his life on the tiny screen.
"Ah hell." Eddie puts a dampener on their celebration. "It's just 'cuz we're famous." Why the fuck would Steve Harrington want him otherwise. Mr. Popular that didn't amount to anything. Status has to be the only reason. Corroded Coffin had seen their fair share of people popping out of the woodwork for their five minutes during their success, this is no different. Eddie flips his middle finger up at the camera before smashing it against the screen, right over Steve's face, as he presses play again.
"Wait. How do you guys know Munson?"
"How do…?"
"How do you know Eddie Munson?" Off screen, Heather speaks up, and Eddie waits for the proof to his own assumption, the guys crowding in close.
"I went to Hawkins, did either of you go to Hawkins?"
"No fucking way."
"Shush!!!"
"Shut up!"
"-diana. I left the first chance I could. I never could shake the thought of Eddie though, he's like the one who 'got away'," he puts the quotations up for emphasis. "Not that we ever had a chance, I didn't even know I was into men until a year after I left Hawkins and that I wasn't just insanely jealous of his hair."
Steve waves to brush it off.
"The dimples, right? Uh, so we know him from a different space, I guess. Is that the only reason you know of Eddie?"
"Yeah, I have no idea where he ended up at, he was taking senior year again when I left." Steve shrugs.
"Famous my ass!" Grant crows, arms circling Eddie's middle, pressing his own arms flat against his sides, before he picks him up and shakes him around.
~
Later, when the video is posted, and nothing of their reactions is edited out, the video cuts off there and it explodes across their fanbase.
Steve can’t really blame Robin for forgetting her trumpet: they’ve been chatting the whole ride to school like normal, and Spring Break is fast approaching, excitement in the air—so infectious that Steve feels it too, like he’s still at school, like Robin’s anticipation is partly his own.
They barely stop talking for long enough to draw breath; it’s a surprise to them both when Hawkins High comes into view, and Robin has to take her seatbelt off in a hurry, climbing out and rushing through, “So yeah, I’ll keep you updated and—yeah, yeah, my work stuff’s in my bag, okay, see you later, loveyoubye!”
Steve realises the trumpet is still in the backseat as he’s pulling out of the parking lot. He stops, honks his horn, but it’s too late: Robin must’ve already gone inside. Several students look over at the noise, but no-one Steve really knows; Claudia is dropping Dustin off today, but he can’t see any trace of him, otherwise he would’ve…
He does another quick scan—spots one familiar face at the last second.
Yeah, he thinks, you’ll do.
He twists in his seat to pick up the trumpet case and opens the passenger door.
“Hey, Munson!” Eddie’s a couple feet away; it seems like he’s kicked the habit of hardly ever showing up to homeroom. He just looks at Steve, like he’s faintly baffled, so Steve feels the need to tack on, “It’s Steve. Steve Harrington?”
That does the trick: Eddie shakes his head as if Steve’s just said something completely pointless.
“Yeah, no shit.” He heads over to Steve’s car and cocks his head at the case. “Are you trying to uh, trade? I’m cash only, Harrington.”
“Ha ha,” Steve says flatly. “No, it’s—you know Robin, right? She’s in your year.” At Eddie’s blank look, he adds, “Robin Buckley,” trying not to sound judgemental. It’s just now that he knows her, he can’t imagine how it’s possible for anyone to not know her. It’s Robin.
Eddie glances at the case again; the penny must drop, because he says, “Oh. Yeah, duh, she’s the one in band? Fluent in, like, everything?”
Steve smiles. “That’s her.” He hands the case over. “Thanks, man, she’s gonna freak when she realises she doesn’t have it. They’re practicing for the game, so—”
“Swiftest of deliveries, got it,” Eddie says, and he actually manages a little salute while holding the trumpet case.
Steve almost laughs.
He doesn’t think any more on the exchange until he’s picking Robin up again. He’s temporarily locked Family Video—what Keith doesn’t know won’t hurt him. Thank God he’s out of town for Spring Break; Steve’s counting down the days. A whole week of just him and Robin, and whatever movies they want to throw on and enthuse about. He’s already picked out his choices, though he still needs to check if the store has them or if he should go through the tapes he’s got at home.
He brings out a notepad from the glovebox and scrawls a reminder to do just that before he sees Robin walking out of school, trumpet case swinging by her side.
She spots his car without him needing to use the horn—claps her free hand to her forehead, and he shakes his head, smiling. It’s a gesture they keep doing at each other, especially when making mistakes at work, getting more and more stupidly exaggerated each time. Then she switches to a thumbs up which Steve returns enthusiastically with both hands, as she opens the door to the backseat and puts the case back inside the car.
“Glad the delivery was successful,” he says, craning his neck to try and meet her eye.
“Yeah, it—” The clunk of the door being shut, soon followed by Robin opening the passenger door and sliding in, still talking, “—was all good, I just, um—ooh, you have gum in here! Great, thanks—what was I—? Oh yeah, I think I confused him?”
“You confused him?” Steve echoes with amusement: an incontrovertible fact of Hawkins High is Eddie Munson’s talent for confusing other people.
“I didn’t mean to! It’s just—okay so, he showed up, like, ten minutes into first period, but you know how Taylor’s stressing about the pronunciation of—basically Rebecca said fam-eel instead of fam-ee—”
“Quelle horreur,” Steve interjects wryly.
Robin snorts, then nods in approval. “Très bien, see, you sound great! But, like, poor Rebecca, she lost her shit—Miss Taylor, I mean, though Rebecca was—anyway, the point is Taylor’s so incredibly strict about talking in French the whole time. I mean, the whole time.”
“The whole time, got it,” Steve says as he reverses out the parking lot. “Wait, the whole time? What if—”
“Whatever you’re about to say, I guarantee you Taylor doesn’t care. Unless someone’s actually dying, and even then—”
“Okay, but what if there’s—like, what if someone’s gotta get pulled out of class—”
“No-one interrupts Miss Taylor,” Robin says gravely. “No-one has dared try.”
Steve starts to grin. “I see where this is—”
“So, Eddie Munson—Taylor always shuts the door but I see him coming, and he’s, like, looking through the window, and I’m trying to wave without being obvious about it so Taylor doesn’t murder me, and I guess I don’t do it great ‘cause he’s looking at me like…”
There’s a pause. Steve huffs a laugh, knowing that Robin’s probably doing a not all that faithful interpretation of what Eddie looked like.
“Rob,” Steve says patiently, managing a brief side glance, “I’m driving.”
“Right, okay, basically he looked like he thought I needed medical attention. And then he’s lifting up my trumpet case, and I’m trying to, like, signal with my eyes like, yay, great! Please just leave it outside the door if you wanna get out alive, but he doesn’t get it, so he knocks and Taylor. Just. Goes. Silent.”
“Ouch,” Steve says. He knows that type of silence well—thinks namely of Mr Mundy’s ire whenever he showed up late to math.
“And Eddie opens the door, and Taylor just speaks the most rapid French at him, and he basically does the world’s most startled mime act, like, pointing at the case then at me, and he’s got these eyes, Steve—”
“Woah, he has eyes? Hadn’t noticed.”
“—that are just begging you for help. And I’m trying to talk for him, in French, obviously, but I’m trying to widen my eyes like, dude, leave, but he just looks even more confused, but then it must click ‘cause he stammers out Bonjour, and Taylor’s staring him down, it’s so—”
“Sounds painful.”
“I mean, it was kinda worth it in the end.”
Steve chuckles. “Really? How?”
“A: I got my trumpet. And B…” There’s a giggle rising in Robin’s voice as she says, “Eddie Munson might not know much French, but he does know how to say Monsieur Harrington.”
“Bullshit, he didn’t say that.”
Silence, quickly broken by Robin’s hiccuping laughter—which, of course, means Steve starts laughing, too. Much later, he’ll recall just how much he smiled; how he told himself he didn’t quite know why.
“Wait, really?”
“Yes!” Robin says. It’s more of a squeak. “He even tried to make your name sound French, oh my God, I can’t breathe—”
“I mean, doesn’t it sound pretty French already?” Steve says, already planning how he can keep this going; maybe he’ll steal Robin’s beret when she isn’t looking. “Don’t I have that je ne sais quoi?”
“Oh, you are so corny, it’s unb—and don’t act like you don’t know it’s all anyone would talk about after, the whispers.” Robin’s voice rises comically. “Did he say Harrington? As in Steve, Steve Harrington? Oh, my cousin was in his year, he’s so—”
“Shut up,” Steve says fondly. Then, faux smug, “Told you I’m still cool.”
They’re stuck behind a little build up of traffic, just before the turn off to Family Video—and just as Robin starts to reply, she cuts herself off.
Steve gives her another sidelong glance. She’s trying to slide down in her seat.
“… What are you doing?”
“Shh, Steve, he’s right there!”
“Who’s right—oh.”
Eddie Munson must be walking home today, because there he is on the sidewalk. He’s not noticed them, he’s just readjusting the strap of his bag across his shoulder.
Robin keeps wriggling.
Steve snorts. “Jeez, what’re you so scared of? He’s not gonna turn you to stone.” He thinks about it. “Well, actually, there was that one time where—but that’s just ‘cause one of the Murphy twins freaked at—”
“I’m not scared, I’m just mortified, Steve! I’ve basically ruined his life.”
“Uh-huh, totally. Look at him over there, that’s a broken man, all right.”
The traffic starts to move.
“Oh no,” Robin says. “Oh no, no, no.”
Steve grins mischievously. “I’m gonna say hi.”
Robin sounds like he’s just suggested they go rob a bank. “Steve, don’t you dare—”
“What? I like honking the horn, sue me!”
Which is true: whenever he stumbles upon one of the kids—when he’s not actually giving them rides—he loves seeing their reactions when they spot his car. He’s still got a warm glow from passing by Dustin and his mom on his way to work at the weekend, their enthusiastic waves.
They catch up to Eddie, and Steve sounds the horn in a short rhythmic group of three, like a little song.
He glances over in time to see Eddie’s eyes widen in recognition, a red flush creep up his neck. His hand lifts and hovers in the air like he doesn’t know whether to commit to a full wave or not.
Robin, evidently still panicking, winds down the window. She shouts wildly into the wind, “Merci!”
Steve makes it to the parking lot before he loses it.
“Merci?” he wheezes with laughter, as Robin frantically slaps him in the chest. “Merci?”
“I panicked!”
“Oh my God, really? No-one would know.”
“He’s gonna think I’m a total—”
“Freak?” Steve cackles. Robin socks him in the arm. “Ow!”
“That did not hurt. Ugh, maybe—maybe he didn’t know it was me?” A beat. “Steve.”
“Oh, sorry, didn’t realise you wanted me to lie to you.”
This time Steve avoids the punch, gets out the car and retrieves Robin’s work vest from the back. He tosses it to her over the roof of the car, shakes his head with exasperated affection.
“Rob, seriously, relax. Eddie Munson’s probably just praying he never sees us again.”
Robin rolls her eyes. “Oh, well, in that case.”
But she does relax as she puts on her vest; she’s already enthusing about the movies they’ll watch over Spring Break by the time Steve unlocks the front door.
“You need to pick some, too, Steve.”
“Dude, I have a whole list, it’s in the car.”
“Très bien, Monsieur Harrington.”
“Jesus.” Steve scoffs. “Was that supposed to be an impression?”
“No! Eddie was more like…” Robin does an incredibly odd movement with her jaw, as if preparing herself.
Steve flinches back in mock horror. “Oh my God! Never mind.”
“Now, Monsieur Harrington—”
“Uh, no. That is not becoming a nickname.”
“Pass me those tapes, please.”
“No.”
“Whatever you say… Monsieur Harrington.”
“Robin,” Steve says, breaking again into laughter—and the sight of Eddie Munson so obviously blushing gently drifts to the back of his mind. “Ta gueule!”
Been having this ping pong around my head for awhile so—
Steve and Eddie who barely interact post vecna, but the kids want to throw a surprise party for Steve’s birthday and Robin’s busy helping them set up and Nancy can’t hang out all day with Steve that would be uncomfortable after the whole 6 kids conversations and-
So yeah Eddie needs to hang out with Steve all day which already puts Eddie on edge because yeah this guy with the wet eyes who carried Eddie out of literal hell deserves a nice surprise, but what are they supposed to DO all day until Henderson calls and lets him know it’s ok to head back to Steve’s? go to the arcade?? Play *shudders* a sport together
So a pizza, 3 beers, and 2 movies, and half a joint later, Eddie is running out of ways to keep Steve occupied and is kinda freaking out about it and Steve has sensed that anxious energy since he got there and assumes Eddie was trying to be nice to Steve on his birthday by having him over for pizza but clearly doesn’t actually want Steve around so actually he will just go now thanks for having me over and -oh? A tour of your room…ok?
Eddie is trying to find anything in his room to distract Steve but the more frantic and more over the top the more on edge and annoyed it makes Steve and when Steve tries to leave again Eddie just fucking wrestles Steve and in a act of desperation handcuffs Steve to his bed frame and for a minute Eddie is very proud of himself for finally finding a way to get Steve to stay before realizing what he just did
They both are just staring at each other tangled up in eddies bed in disbelief that Eddie just handcuffed him to the bed
“vickie!” eddie practically screams from his kitchen, rage coursing through him as he stares down at the tabloids spread out in front of him on the counter. “get in here! now!”
eddie’s had an issue with his rage lately. well. he’s had an issue with a lot of things, since he got famous, really. but that’s not his problem right now.
his problem is he’s looking down at image after image of himself on the covers of people and us weekly and entertainment tonight being dragged out of last night’s night club by his own security team with blood pouring from his nose. he looks angry. he looks crazed.
just then, a stranger walks into his kitchen.
“who the fuck are you?” he blurts out at the man, who’s wearing a dark green sweater vest over a white t-shirt and tortoise-shell glasses.
“i’m steve,” the weirdo stalker says, smiling brightly. he has surprisingly swoopy hair for an insane fan. “i’m your new assistant.”
“where’s vickie?” eddie asks, rubbing at the sore spot on his nose. thank god it’s not broken.
“you fired her,” steve tells him. “two days ago.”
“i fire her all the time.”
“ok, well… i guess this time it stuck,” steve shrugs. “chrissy hired me.”
“fucking chrissy,” eddie says under his breath, rolling his eyes. he pulls out his phone from the pocket of his sweatpants and speed dials chrissy. “chris, what the fuck?” he doesn’t even give her the chance to say hello.
“good morning, eddie. i’m doing really well, how are you?”
“not fucking well, that’s how i am!” eddie practically yells into the receiver. “what the fuck? did you see the pictures? and who the fuck is this guy in my house?”
“yes, eddie, i saw the pictures.” eddie can hear the eye roll in her voice. “we’re handling it. nancy’s already on it with the team. what was the other thing?”
eddie knows she’s fucking with him and that pisses him off even more. “who is this freak in my house wearing a goddamn sweater vest?!” he feels like a blood vessel in his eye is about to pop.
“hey,” steve protests softly from across the kitchen where he’s started to pull shit out of eddie’s fridge. he didn’t even know there was anything in that fridge.
“that’s not a very nice way to talk about your new assistant,” chrissy’s voice comes loud and clear through the phone.
“christina fucking cunningham, you know i have final say on all hiring decisions when it comes to my assistants.” he rubs at his sore nose again.
“you had final say on all hiring decisions until you fired vickie for the thirteenth time and she refused to come back, even with a three hundred percent raise. we’re going in a different direction now.” chrissy sounds entirely too pleased with herself.
“well, i fucking hate him,” eddie grumbles and watches steve to make sure he’s heard him. steve doesn’t even react, just continues doing whatever the fuck he’s doing with the frying pan he’d found in the cabinet.
“you don’t even know him, eddie. give him a chance. anyway, i have to go, i have brunch plans with my very beautiful, very intelligent, perfect fiancée,” chrissy tells him, gloating, before hanging up on him.
eddie wants desperately to throw his phone across the kitchen, but if he breaks this one that would be his fourth phone in three weeks and he couldn’t bear to have to ask this steve person to go buy him a new one. he settles for squeezing it in his hand until it creaks while taking several deep breaths through his nose.
“what are you doing?” he grits out.
“are you always this rude?” steve asks, ignoring his question.
“to weirdo freak strangers showing up in my house unannounced? yes.”
“it’s not unannounced, chrissy wrote it on your calendar.” steve gestures toward the paper calendar hanging on the side of the fridge where chrissy writes his major life events and which eddie mostly just ignores before sliding a plate full of food toward eddie.
“what is this?” eddie sneers.
“it’s an omelette with cheese and mushrooms,” steve replies, smiling. he’s always fucking smiling.
“i’m allergic to… omelettes,” eddie says, just to be a dick.
“no you’re not. you’re allergic to blueberries and dust.” steve doesn’t stop smiling pleasantly.
“did you get access to my medical records? that’s a violation of my… whatever rights.” eddie waves a hand through the air.
“no, i didn’t go look at your medical records, jesus. i’m not a stalker. chrissy told me when she hired me.”
“whatever. i still fucking hate you.”
“okay,” steve shrugs again. “eat your breakfast.”
eddie has every intention of leaving the kitchen, full plate of food and all, but. he is hungry.
so he eats.
and he’s pissed that it’s actually good.
~*~
eddie spends the rest of the day being a general nuisance to steve any time he tries to do his job. when steve answers the phone before handing it to eddie, eddie “accidentally” hangs up on whoever it is on the hand off & makes sure to blame his new assistant when the person finally calls back. when steve has to drive him to his meeting with nancy and the pr team, eddie tries to give him the wrong directions, but steve’s too smart for that. when steve has to do the grocery shopping, he makes steve go to the erewhon all the way across town during rush hour because the one down the street “just doesn’t have the same vibe, steve.”
and all the while, steve just does his job, still smiling, not getting angry at all even though it’s beyond obvious eddie’s being a little shit to him.
which honestly just pisses eddie off more than anything else today.
“here’s some aspirin,” steve says, placing two white pills on the coffee table in front of eddie, along with a mason jar of water. eddie, lounging on his big squishy couch, pulls the ice pack away from his nose, which has started throbbing again. “you didn’t have any glasses.” steve shrugs when he sees eddie’s arched eyebrow looking skeptically at the jar of water. “if you don’t need anything else, i’ll take off for the day.”
it’s past 8pm already, long after steve should have left for the day except that eddie had made him stay to organize his extensive tshirt collection by color, shade, and design before he could even think about going home. it was an emergency, after all.
“i’ll have to check the t-shirt closet first,” eddie replies, before swallowing the aspirin dry. steve shrugs again and rolls his eyes. eddie would say something about his blatant rudeness, but he’s too exhausted.
eddie pulls himself off the couch and makes his way down the hallway to his “t-shirt room.” it’s so stupid, but he has all this space and he’d started collecting the tshirts so long ago. they’re not worth anything, they’re just his wardrobe but… they remind him of wayne and the thrifting they used to do every saturday morning.
the organization eddie had been having steve do was entirely arbitrary. it’s not like eddie plans his outfits. he mostly just pulls whatever out of wherever, unless it’s an event and then he pays someone to do the deciding and dressing for him anyway.
but. steve’s organized the t-shirts by genre and subgenre and then by band alphabetically and finally color. more than eddie had even asked him to do.
eddie had come in here fully prepared to rip steve a new one, but even he can be shocked into appreciation.
steve notices eddie’s silence and grins.
“can i tell you something?” steve says pleasantly and then continues without even letting eddie respond to the question. “i know i look like a nice polite guy next door that moms totally love—it’s the sweater vests, i think.” steve plucks at his top. “and that’s true. i am a nice polite guy and moms do love me. i’m awesome.” his grin widens. “but i got kicked out of my parents house when i was 18 and i lived in my car for a while. i’ve been on my own for seven years. i made a life in LA out of nothing. so you can throw your little temper tantrums and tell me how much you hate me. you can make me go to the erewhon all the way across town and you can make me look incompetent to my colleagues. but i need this job. i’ve worked hard for this job. this job pays more than any other job i’ve ever had combined. and you’re hardly the biggest asshole i’ve ever met. so you can continue trying to make my life miserable—hell, i’ll even give you my dad’s number, you guys can swap ideas!” steve laughs at his own joke before turning serious for the first time all day. “but i’m not vickie. you won’t make me cry. you can’t fire me. i’m not going anywhere.” he claps his hands together. “anyway, i’m gonna take off, since i have plans with my actual friends. but hey, i’ll see you tomorrow, huh?” and he smiles again, giving eddie a small waggle of his fingers, before heading out through the door.
eddie’s still just standing there in the middle of his tshirt room when he hears the front door slam shut.
"For Eddie!" Rings in his head as he sits bolt upright in bed, the dream clinging to him like a hangover.
He's been having it for a few months now, but he never remembers anything except the shouts of, "For Eddie!"
He can't get them out of his head, even though they seem innocuous enough. Even in his sleep, they have weight, heft, and it gnaws at him afterwards like pain from a rotten tooth.
And no matter how hard he tries, he can't remember any more of the dream than those two words.
Eddie thinks the memory of it will fade faster today, what with the first day of school and all. He's already decided that his third senior year will be his year.
Hawkins High remains Hawkins High, so "For Eddie!" has free reign with his brain until lunch, when he spots a short, curly-haired nerd in a Weird Al t-shirt. The soft-brained audacity of these freshman--this kid was going to get eaten alive.
He speeds to the freshman, wrapping his arm around his shoulder. He squeaks and struggles, but Eddie holds tight, says, "come sit at my table."
And so, Hellfire ends up adopting Dustin Henderson, Lucas Sinclair, and Mike Wheeler; and, oh, how helpless they are. They might know dnd like the back of their little hands, but they're sitting ducks in high school.
Caring for his adopted children is basically a full-time job.
The dream stops.
It's not long before he forgets.
Eddie's on his way home from a deal, the sky just going yellow-y pink as the sun dips out of view, when he spots Henderson leaving Family Video puffed up with indignation. Right behind him storms Steve Harrington, hands on hips, Family Video vest flapping in the light breeze. He's talking rapidly, pointing an aggressive finger in Dustin's face, and how-fucking-dare that washed up nobody yell at Henderson like that?? He's not letting Harrington get away with bullying another nerd.
Before he can pull into the parking lot, Robin Buckley's head sticks out the video store door. She says something that has Harrington and Henderson flipping her off, but it's enough to get Steve to back off his tormenting.
He's about to pull into the lot, give Harrington a piece of his mind, but Henderson goes to the arcade and Steve stomps back into the video store. The crisis seemingly averted, Eddie heads towards home, thoughts full of what he witnessed.
He's still thinking about it the next day, when Hellfire congregates at the lunch table. Paying no attention to the ongoing conversation, he asks,"Harrington mess with you a lot?"
"Steve?" Dustin wrinkles his nose. "Yeah, I mean, he can be annoying sometimes."
"Sometimes?" Grumbles Mike. Dustin elbows him. The entire exchange is baffling to Eddie.
"You spend a lot of time with him?"
"Sure." Dustin takes a drink from his carton of milk, oblivious to Eddie's growing confusion.
"Uh, Henderson, hello." He knocks on the table. "I saw him yelling at you yesterday, wanna tell me what that was about?"
"He was mad that I asked for a ride to Lucas's." Dustin rolls his eyes.
Eddie is baffled. "And he--Why?"
"He used to be Dustin's babysitter," Lucas answers.
He looks at Jeff, Gareth, and Freak and they stare back, just as confused.
"Your mom paid Steve Harrington. Steve 'The Hair' Harrington. To babysit you?"
"No, he didn't do it for money."
And that just--what's he supposed to do with that?
"You--you all just. Know him?"
Lucas nods. "He helps me with--stuff. Looks after Erica sometimes. He's cool."
Eddie can't help himself, he snorts, mean. His three sheepies, even Mike, finally stop what they're doing to glare at him.
"He's annoying as fuck," Mike says. "But he's a good guy."
Dustin and Lucas nod, Dustin crossing his arms over his chest, defiant.
"Okay, okay." He raises his hands in surrender. "I didn't know of Harrington's numerous good deeds. In the future, I'll make sure to show him all due deference." He says it in his most formal knight voice, which makes the freshman laugh, and the matter is forgotten for the rest of lunch.
---
Steve Harrington speaks to him for the first time two weeks later.
Eddie stops at a gas station for beer on his way home from band practice. It's late, the lot deserted, quiet. Before he goes in, he lights a cigarette, leans against the van's back doors to smoke. He takes his first inhale, closes his eyes, hears another car pull into the lot. It's Harrington's stupid BMW.
And he's walking over to Eddie, hands in the pockets of his perfectly snug jeans, looking like he stepped straight out of an issue of Teen Beat.
"Bum a smoke?" He asks. There's a bashful half smile on his face that Eddie refuses to think is cute.
"What, Steve Harrington can't afford his own cigarettes?" He bites back. The smile flickers, and Eddie winces. He pulls the pack from his jacket pocket, tapping out a cigarette, handing it to Harrington along with his lighter.
Steve takes the smoke between his long fingers, nestling it between his pink lips. Eddie looks away.
"Dustin really likes Hellfire," Steve says. He looks only at the sky.
"Yeah, good." He clears his throat. "I'm glad."
"It's good for all of them. I think."
"They've been great additions to the group." If he ever imagined talking to Harrington, which he didn't, it wasn't anything like this.
"Can't believe you play that geeky game, Munson." He looking at Eddie now, the crooked smile back.
"You're one to talk," he shoots back. "From what I understand, you babysit half the nerds in town."
"Nah, I've handed them off to you now."
Eddie laughs, coughs, pulls his hair forward to hide his face. "Are you saying we share custody?"
"Gave up my parental rights." Harrington's eyes get crinkly when he laughs. It makes Eddie's stomach swoop.
With one last drag, Eddie throws his spent cigarette to the ground, stomping it into the asphalt with his boot.
"Well." He points to the gas station. "I gotta--"
"Sure. See you around, Munson."
It's only hours later that he realizes Harrington stopped only to talk to him.
That night, he has the dream again.
When he wakes, "For Eddie" reverberates through his bones. And for the first time, the voices sound familiar.
---
Eddie sees Harrington often after that. They talk. Dare he say it, but Harrington's...nice. Truly. It's shocking to discover. He tries not to think about it too much; trusting someone like Harrington feels dangerous.
Not to mention, the more he gets to know and like the guy, the harder it is to ignore the alluring pout of his mouth and the way his ass fills out a pair of jeans. That's an even more dangerous avenue to go down than enjoying Harrington's company, though.
He has the dream almost once a week now. Sometimes more. Waking up with the taste of "For Eddie!" on his tongue. He recognizes the voices, knows he does, but remembering is like trying to cup water in his hands.
---
The only thing he's ever early to is Hellfire. He likes to get everything setup at least a half hour before everyone gets there. Usually, he has the drama room all to himself. But today, as he approaches the door, he hears people talking.
"Does he remember anything?"
"I don't think so."
"Fuck, this isn't working."
He knows those voices. He knows them. The same ones he hears in his dream. It's--
"He just needs time."
"Dustin! We don't have time!"
"It's only November, Steve. Chrissy doesn't die until March."
Steve and Dustin.
For Eddie, For Eddie, For Eddie, For Eddie
Images flash through his head. Chrissy Cunningham in her cheerleading uniform in the woods; a broken body on the floor of the trailer; holding a bottle to Steve's throat...
He thinks he's going to be sick. Pain surges through his skull, stomach heaving. He takes a deep breath, fingers clenching into the door frame to stay upright.
"We have to tell him."
"We have no idea what could happen if he doesn't remember on his own."
"So, what? We wait until Chrissy snaps apart on his ceiling? We know how that ends!"
"We don't know how this works. If he doesn't figure it out--"
...A basketball player he can't name floating above Lover's Lake, arms snapped; Steve shirtless on a boat; an eerie, blue-soaked landscape, covered in shriveled trees and withered vines; hot-wiring an RV with Steve and Robin over his shoulder; playing his guitar on the trailer's roof...
His knees give, and he falls into the door with a thud. He can feel his pulse pounding in his brain, a raging fire. For a second, he goes weightless, and then Steve's arms wrap around his waist. "I've got you. Hold on, Eddie. I got you."
"I'm going to be sick," he says. Or tries to. His mouth won't move like it belongs to him.
"Shit, shit, Dustin, what do we do?"
"I don't know!"
"Eddie, man, you gotta stay awake for me, okay? Can you do that?"
And he wants to. God, does he want more than anything to stay awake for Steve Harrington, but he can't work his eyes anymore.
Dustin is saying something over and over and over, but it's only coming to him in waves, in and out like radio fuzz.
"Steve!" Dustin cries, and that comes in loud and clear.
"I'm trying! I'm trying! I don't know what to do!"
"Eddie, please--please!" And he doesn't know which of them says it, because he's slipping away, and there's no voices or pain or anything at all.
---
"For Eddie!" Rings in his head as he sits bolt upright in bed, the dream clinging to him like a hangover.
He's been having it for a few months now, but he never remembers anything except the shouts of, "For Eddie!"
He can't get them out of his head, even though it seems innocuous enough. Even in his sleep, they have weight, heft, and it gnaws at him afterwards like pain from a rotten tooth.
And no matter how hard he tries, he can't remember any more of the dream than those two words.
Eddie thinks the memory of it will fade faster today, what with the first day of school and all. He's already decided that his third senior year will be his year.
Steve Harrington who doesn't die. No matter what, he'll wake up afterwards. He learned it young when he survived a car crash that killed his mom. And he struggles after her death, not knowing why he survived when she didn't. As he grows up, he can't relax and parties to try and be full of something lighter. But he drinks too much at one party and he doesn't have a good friend to rely on.
As time goes on, Steve dies by Billy and by the Russians. He doesn't really understand but he begins to accept it. But he also becomes more careless. Which is how Eddie finds him.
Eddie had been able to see ghosts since he almost died from his dad. The first ghost he ever sees is his mom and she passes on after getting to hug him goodbye one last time. After that Eddie sees the few elderly people who died at the end of their lives. And the people who died too early. He got stuck as the freak for all the times he's accidentally talked to someone who wasn't there.
He had talked with Benny who was worried about that young girl. Barb who was so mad about being left behind by her friend. But he hadn't seen Will Byers and it made sense when he was found eventually. But he did hear some things from the agents stuck at the middle school who looked torn apart. Eddie learned of the Upside Down earlier but promised Wayne he'd stay out of it.
Until he saw Steve sitting on the edge of the pool, looking at his body floating in the water. There was some blood swirling in the water and it made Eddie sick. But Steve just stared blankly at his own body before sighing and standing. He froze when Eddie locked eyes with him. He glanced at the pool than Eddie. "Hmm," he gave him a small smile and moved past him.
"Wait!" Eddie called afterwards and Steve paused, "aren't you, like, I don't know needing something? Most ghosts-"
"Oh," Steve chuckled, "this won't last much longer." He stated and walked away but before he even reached the door back into the party he blinked away. Eddie let out a scream when Steve's body spasmed and his head flung up out of the water. There was still blood on the side of his face but he was alive. Steve groaned as he pulled himself out of the pool. "See," his came out hoarse and Eddie was just so confused.
inspired by what literally Just happened to me twenty minutes ago
Eddie is strapped for cash, and he spots a blood drive happening down the street. He knows that they always give out $20 gift cards after you donate, so he signs himself up. Sure, all he's eaten today is a bowl of instant mac and cheese for breakfast, but they have snacks there if he really needs something.
He's getting called up to have his blood pressure and heart rate checked, when he sees him: an Adonis. The man is gorgeous, tan skin that's slightly flushed, with just a faint sheen of sweat on his face. He's practically glowing.
The phlebotomist is giggling at something he just said, and she turns one of the little portable fans to face him. His hair starts billowing in the breeze, and he looks like he belongs on the cover of one of those bodice ripper novels Eddie rags on but secretly loves
The person doing Eddie's intake procedure says his pulse is a little high, so they need to wait a couple minutes and check again.
"Who is that?" Eddie asks, pointing at the other man.
"Oh, Steve? He's one of our regulars. Him and his girlfriend always come in and donate together every chance they get. Real sweet guy, everyone here loves him. Super funny, too."
It's then that Steve seems to notice Eddie staring, because he smiles and waves with the arm that doesn't currently have a needle stuck in it. Damn. Even his smile is perfect.
"So it looks like you can't donate today." Eddie turns once he realizes he's being spoken to. "Your pulse rate actually got higher; it was 109 and now it's 116."
"What? But isn't that a good thing? My body is pumping more blood, right? That means more for you guys to take?"
"Well we can only take a pint at a time, but even so, you're not supposed to donate if your heart rate is above 100 BPM because you might faint or get sick. Your blood pressure is fine, only slightly elevated, so it's probably nothing, but you should still go see a doctor anyway to get checked for a heart condition."
Eddie is shocked. He doesn't know what to say. For the first time in his life, he is rendered speechless. Munson men don't have heart problems. Liver damage, sure, but that's from all the booze, and he hasn't had a drop since he moved out of Hawkins.
Not like he could afford to, anyway. Shit's expensive.
"Does this mean I won't get the gift card?" he asks.
"Sorry, sweetie. Maybe next month."
He walks away, too stunned to respond, drifting over to the snack table. He grabs one of everything: pretzels, cookies, cheese crackers, a juice box. If he can't get that money, at least he can get some food.
He glances one last look at the beautiful boy before he goes. Maybe he'll get to talk to him next time.
Oh, well. He can get the cash somewhere else. There's always Onlyfans.
bonus: me explaining what happened to my Ma (except in this case pretend it's Eddie and Wayne lol)
