Eddie noticing the kids turning to Steve more than their family and that they really do see him as their primary parental figure, genuinely, because he's the one always there for them through all the upside down bullshit.
First is Max who'll only talk to Steve about certain things and she pesters him for advice and for attention and rides and general time spent together. She even sleeps over at his house when she needs a night where they can pretend they're just dumb kids together.
Second is Lucas, who gets a lot of sports advice from him and Eddie once stumbled in on them playing catch once. Steve gives Lucas advice on his parents too- mostly because he's worried the whole upside down and secrets will mess up their relationship and Steve gives good advice.
Third is Erica, who is very odd in her affection. It took a while for Eddie to realise that's what it is and not just her bullying Steve. Steve seems to thrive under her hostility too, always keeping a straight face trying to stern with her but Eddie has caught both of them turning away to hide snickers.
Fourth is Eleven. She seems fascinated by Eddie as much as he is her. She drags him around with her often, Max getting a kick out of making him do girly things with them but Eddie genuinely loves it. It's when they want to do things that need adult supervision that Eddie picks up on it; Max wants Eddie to be the acting adult because she knows he'll let them get away with more but El insists on bringing Steve too.
She does it a lot and for small things too. Even just for a ride. Eddie doesn't see them talking a lot, often spotting them sat in silence, but El only looks that comfortable around Hopper and Steve. Like they're her safe haven.
Fifth is both Will and Jonathan. Will is shy and hard for Eddie to read for a while. It's Jonathan that gives it away; as awkward as Steve gets around him, Jonathan is just as keen as will to spend time together as a unit. He often invites Steve to family dinners, like it's a given, like Steve is secretly Steve Byers.
Joyce is worse about it, often calling him her son or her baby boy. Will is like El with him, more comfortable and even willing to open up to Eddie as long as his other big brother is there too.
Eddie is surprised that Dustin is the only one who doesn't seem to fit into Steve's rag tag family.
Eventually he asks Dustin, who laughs, admitting that he's seen Steve as a big brother for years and it's just how they are to the point that Eddie won't have seen them being anything other than brothers.
Dustin also admits that he's been sticking to Eddie more now, calling him his brother in law. And Eddie flushes. Because... yeah. He's into Steve. (Steve is into him, something Dustin is painfully aware of).
The rag tag family bands together to parent trap them.
Steve can usually feel the beginning of an anxiety attack before it happens.
For him it's the slight uptick in his heart rate, it reminds him of that night in the junkyard, adrenaline starting to pump through his veins, survive just survive. For him it's the slight tingle in his fingers, instinctively flexing them as if that will dispel the energy from them. For him it's the fight or flight part of his brain turning back and forth, the part that reminds him to breathe just keep breathing, in out in out.
Ever the man of action, Steve always has a plan, even for this. Breathe, keep breathing, the air will keep your head on straight a little longer. It's better when he's at home, at home he can go get his big sweater, the one that wraps him in warmth and safety and headphones to play his mixtapes that remind him of his family. At work he has the backroom, a heavy blanket on the shelf always waiting for him.
Robin is part of his plan some days. She can't wrap herself around him like the sweater or the blanket, the touch would stress her out and a stressed out Robin is no help to Steve. Robin can talk though, a steady stream of words, a point of focus, a reminder of where he is, who he's with.
His favourite way of chasing away the thrum of run run run fight fight fight breathe breathe breathe, is Eddie. Eddie who he doesn't have to tell anything for him to notice. Eddie who when he's cuddled with Steve on the couch can hear his heartrate lift, can feel his fingers flex between his own. There is no need for a heavy blanket or a sweater when Eddie simply guides him down to laying on the couch, draping himself over Steve and providing the comforting weight across his whole body. There is no need for headphones or rambling when Eddie is stroking his hair and softly singing their song.
Steve can't stop the anxious feelings he gets sometimes, but he can breathe and maybe Eddie will be there beside him breathing too.
G | Steve & Claudia (Henderson) | 815 words | also on ao3 | cw: minor reference to child neglect and a dysfunctional household, mild blood | STWG prompt: Sunshine
Thank you so much to @stellarspecter and @vegasol for betaing and helping with clarity! You guys are truly amazing 💕💕💕 Dividers by the lovely @saradika-graphics 💛
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Steve is 8 years old again.
That’s old enough to form memories that will last longer than a year or two, and he's starting to hate how that's the way time has to work, with the old stuff mostly forgotten. This memory, even, he didn’t realize had slipped away.
But all it takes is the vague tune of a song, and he's 8 years old again.
"You are my sunshine, my only sunshine."
Steve is 8, before she learned about the cheating, before he had to learn what that meant, before screaming, and before all of that was taken to New York, Chicago, then Seattle, because she said too quiet was better than too loud.
"You make me happy, when skies are gray."
He is 8, and he is laying in bed. He has two scraped knees and an ever uglier elbow that Mrs. Hagan almost fainted at the sight of. He is a little tired, but he is not ready for Saturday to end.
"You'll never know, dear,"
But his mom is sitting on the side of his bed and running a hand through his hair. She is wearing her rose-tinted Sunday best. And she is singing.
"How much I love you."
Steve isn't eight years old.
And he definitely isn’t 8 years old.
He's nineteen, too close to twenty, sitting in the doorway of a room that isn't his, in a house he didn’t grow up in, stopping himself from getting comfortable leaning back on a door frame despite the current strain in his back, because it would only hurt the wound there more.
He's on the outside this time, looking over because no one told him he had to leave yet, as Ms. Henderson sits on the side of Dustin's bed and hums the tune like he isn't nearly fifteen years old.
And then, of course, the song is over, because it's always been too short.
And Steve is not eight years old.
There's too much strain on his back, so he brings his legs in carefully and pillows his head on his knees as she starts humming a new song that’s not as familiar.
Tews pops his little head into the room, looking at all his options before deciding to bump his head into Steve's legs and start purring, like he doesn't already have plenty of food in his bowl.
"You have food, you little rat," he whispers, petting Tews' head.
Tews leans into his hand, but still meows, circling to his other side to bump into his other leg.
"Mhm, pretty sure it was still half full five minutes ago.”
Tews meows again and darts behind him, trying to lead him back down the hall. Steve leans back a bit to try and find him, but he can’t.
Tews sticks a paw on his stomach, right where his bites are freshly bandaged, clearly thinking he was jumping on a lap before Steve yelps and shoots a hand over to get him off.
“Tews, Tewsie, c’mere,” Ms. Henderson calls from the bedside, a hand still in Dustin’s hair, and with a little sound all cat people somehow know how to do. Tews meows at him again with the same tone, then runs over to Ms. Henderson.
“Sorry, bud,” Steve whispers, holding the spot as he tries to relax again, laying his head back on his arm.
Tews bumps his head into her ankles, circling back and forth before meowing again.
“Too sweet for your own good,” she chides, picking Tews up so he can curl up in her lap.
And she starts humming the song again.
And Steve is not an eight year old.
“You okay, honey?”
Steve looks up.
“Yeah, just hit the edge of it, it’s probably not bleeding or anything.”
She nods, but she doesn’t believe him.
“Alright, Tewsie, up–”
“No, I can get up,” his hand finds the door frame to make it easier, and he stands without a fuss. “There, easy peasy.”
Then he joins her and Tews, because it’s easy.
Ms. Henderson pats the bed, just barely so it doesn’t wake Dustin, and Tews goes to the spot. Steve pats his head again.
Ms. Henderson stands, and offers a hug.
Steve’s nineteen, but nobody can really say no to a Henderson hug.
She avoids poking at the wounds on his back that are too fragile to handle it right now, somehow holding only around them, almost like there's nothing there. Steve might be bleeding.
And she starts singing a song only moms seem to know when to sing.
“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine.”
And he closes his eyes.
“You make me happy, when skies are gray.”
And he hugs tighter.
“You’ll never know, dear,”
He’s bleeding, and it’s going to fall onto the shoulder of her sweater.
When Steve wakes up, he is very confused. His room looks very different and unfamiliar- but he knows it's his. It still has the plaid wallpaper his mom had picked out for him (he hadn't liked it, but there was a lot of lines and pretty colors).
The toy car his babysitter, Sarah, had gotten him for his fifth birthday isn't on his dresser anymore. He knows that she'd left it there for him last night, playfully insisting that he couldn't play with it until his actual birthday.
He'd been so excited to play with it. He wants to cry, and wail. He wants to run to his parents and scream until they give it back.
But they aren't home. That's why his babysitter had been over the previous night. They have a very important business trip that they aren't allowed to miss, not even for Steve's birthday.
The pictures in the hall look different too. Sarah had put up some cool pictures for him. She'd done the same for his fourth birthday. They had to take them down at the end of the day, but it had been nice to have family pictures up. Even if it was just for a day.
Sarah isn't downstairs.
He almost does scream this time. She'd promised that she'd stay the night, sleeping on the sofa, so he could have pancakes for breakfast. It's one of the many things that he can't, or isn't allowed, to make on his own.
His cake isn't in the fridge either. He even pulls a chair over so he can climb on it, to see if she'd hidden it on one of the higher shelves.
He sits on one of the dining chairs, watching the clock, and waiting.
After two hours pass, he gives up any hope he has.
Sarah, just like his parents, is probably too busy for him. He reasons that she probably just forgot to tell him. His mom had done that one time- it had stung, but he couldn't blame her. He forgot lots of stuff, even if it is important.
The only cereal in the pantry is some plain, corn brand that he doesn't recognise. It tastes just as bad as it looks, but there isn't a lot of food anymore.
At least, not a lot that he can make.
He has a second bowl, putting a few spoons of sugar in. It's not much better, but he doesn't feel so hungry anymore.
The TV looks different too. There's weird and new things playing. It's fun, interesting, and distracts him well enough that he's able to keep himself from worrying about how long he'll have to be alone again.
The next day goes the same.
The third day, he risks cooking. It ends up a little burnt, but it's better than cereal all the time.
The fourth day, he can't eat the food he tries to cook. It smells too nasty. He has to have cereal again. The sugar helps.
The fifth day, he doesn't risk cooking. His parents have never left him alone, without a babysitter, for more than a week, so he'll have a nice meal soon.
The sixth day, he checks their voicemail. There's a few odd messages from grown up sounding people, asking about how he's feeling, but he doesn't recognise any of their voices. He doesn't know what numbers he should try calling. He hopes they try calling again.
The seventh day, he sits at the bottom of the stairs. He stares at the front door, ready to jump up and give his mom and dad a warm welcome home.
The eighth day, he's starting to worry. Surely his parents will remember to call a different babysitter?
The ninth day, there's a key in the door. He almost misses it, sat in the kitchen, glaring at his cereal.
"Steve!" Someone calls. It sounds like one of the nice, unfamiliar grown ups who left a voicemail message. "Stevie! You here? How are- oh my god."
"Hi," Steve greets. He waves, tries giving his most polite smile. He almost forgets to keep his lips shut- his dad told him that his teeth don't look nice enough for a grin that big yet. "You're one of the nice people who left me a message, right?"
She stares at him for a long moment, mouth hanging open. "Steve?"
"That's me! What's your name?"
"Robin."
He sticks a hand out to her. "I's nice to meet you Miss Robin!"
"Yeah," she replies, voice high and thin. Her hand is trembling when she gently shakes his hand. "I'm... gonna need to use your phone. Real quick, ok?"
"Um... ok. But you can't make long distance calls, mommy will be very mad at me." He bites his thumb nail, following her into the hall. "Are you a babysitter? Is Sarah sick?"
"Sarah?" Robin echoes, questioningly. She's only half paying attention though, pushing in a phone number.
"My babysitter. She was supposed to be here for my birthday."
"It's your birthday?" She chokes out, spinning around so fast she stumbles. She looks heartbroken.
"Not anymore! It's ok, you don't need to be sad. She gave me my present early too, so it was good."
"Wait. How long have you been... what have you been eating?"
"Um. Cereal, mostly. All the food is different. It's weird."
"That's not- oh, hi," she turns away slightly, talking to whoever is on the phone. "Yeah, I'm at Steve's right now. Gather, like, everyone. We have a major emergency."
"No!" Steve quickly says. He tugs at the bottom of her top. "Not an emergency! You can't say that, you'll get me in trouble!"
"You don't understand, this is-"
"No, please," he pleads. He can only hope he won't get in trouble for talking back to her. "I'm sorry."
"Ok, ok, alright," she agrees. She pauses for a second, listening. "No, that was Steve. Yeah, exactly, that's why-"
"Tell them it isn't an emergency. Please. If dad hears, I'll be in big trouble."
"Ok, big guy. It's not an emergency. Just... yeah, do that. Yeah. Alright. No, I'll be fine. I can deal with it. Ok, see you soon."
She hangs up with a sigh, turning to look at him. She still looks sad.
"Are you ok, Miss Robin?"
Her laugh sounds strained, but she laughs. "I'm alright. How are you?"
"I'm ok. Do you know when mommy and daddy will be back?"
"I don't. I'm sorry, Stevie."
"It's ok. It's only, like... I can't really, uh, cook."
"I can make you something. What's your fave? It was your birthday, you said? Let's get you something special! How old are you?"
He stumbles a little, trying to keep up with her fast talking as well as he long strides. "I'm five. Sarah was going to make me pancakes."
"We can do pancakes." She searches the cupboards and fridge, frowning. "Where is anything?"
"I dunno. I looked but everything is all gone or weird."
"Well... we'll just have to have pancakes later. Special pancakes, for the special birthday boy."
"I guess."
She steps close, putting her hands on her hips as she looks him over. "Are you sure you're five? Did you hit your growth spurt early? You're getting real big."
"I dunno. Mommy says I'm gonna be tall and be a real ladies man, or something."
"Do you even know what that means?"
"Not really. Mommy thinks it's cool though."
"Hm. Are you too big to pick up?"
"Oh, you're not supposed to. Daddy says I'm a big boy now. Big boys don't get picked up."
"Your dad's an asshole."
Steve giggles, quickly covering his mouth with both hands. "You're not supposed to say that! It's a naughty word!"
"Supposed to do this, supposed to do that," she tutts. She leans down, scooping him up into her arms, resting him on her hip. "Your five, stop being so boring!"
Her hand feels so big on his back, like there's no way he could fall with her holding him. She doesn't even seem to mind his hand automatically grabbing the collar of her shirt.
"Daddy doesn't like it when people pick me up."
"What do you like? Hm? Do you want me to put you down?"
"... No."
"Then I'm not putting you down. Daddy isn't here to tell us off, is he? And what he doesn't know, can't hurt him."
She bounces him a few times, making him giggle. Judging by her satisfied grin, that was her aim.
It confuses him, a little. Mostly because she keeps doing that- little things, little comments, trying to make him laugh. Trying to make him smile. Even just listening to him talk about things. Little things. Silly things. Like she isn't annoyed when he goes on, and on, and on.
By the time another person comes in, he's decided that she's the best person in the whole wide world. If she puts him down or tries to leave, he's going to throw a tantrum.
He knows it's bad, but he doesn't want her to leave too. She's cool.
"Oh, God. Robin, please tell me that the baby isn't Steve."
"He's five," Robin corrects. "And yes, it's Steve. I checked, it's him."
"What the hell happened to him?"
"I don't know, I called you!"
"Is something wrong with me?" Steve asks, voice quiet and timid.
"No!" Robin quickly tries to say, at the same time the man says, "yes, obviously."
"Dustin!" Robin scolds.
"What? Lying to him won't help!"
"Neither will being a dick about it!" She tutts at him, adjusting Steve in her arms when she looks to him. "It's nothing, like, bad. It's just kinda weird. See, when we saw you, a week ago... you were a little bit older than me. And now you're five."
Steve stares at her for a moment. She looks too serious, too honest.
"Weird," he says.
"Exactly," she agrees. "From what you've said, though, it's not that bad. You're still you, and you're healthy. You're just... not so big."
"Maybe El can fix him," Dustin mutters, squinting at Steve. He leans close. "When did this happen?"
"He's been like this for a week," Robin tells him. Her voice is quiet, almost scared- it doesn't help that Dustin looks horrified too. "At least."
"Who's been taking care of him?"
"No one."
"What the hell," Dustin turns his frown on Steve. "Why didn't you call anyone?"
"Not supposed to unless it's a real emergency," Steve says. "Mommy says she has a repo... rep... rep-yuh-tay-shun. It's a big thing."
Dustin looks heartbroken, turning to Robin, who shrugs back at him. He groans after a pause, frowning at Robin. "Shit. You can't drive."
"Oh, shit."
"I'll call Eddie," Dustin sighs, already heading to the hall.
"Who's Eddie?" Steve asks.
"Eddie's a friend. He looks a little scary, but don't worry. He's a big softie, an absolute teddy bear." She leans close, whispering loudly with a grin. "Don't tell him I told you, though. He likes to pretend that he's all tough and mean."
"And he's... not mean?"
"Not a cruel bone in his body."
"Ok," he bites at his thumb, frowning when Robin gently pulls his hand out his mouth. "You won't leave though, right?"
"I'm not going anywhere."
"You gotta promise, though! Pinky Promise!" He lifts a hand, sticking his pinky up- Robin almost immediately wraps her own around his.
"I promise I won't leave you. Who knows what could happen if I leave you alone with the gremlins." She pretends to shudder. "Oh, the horrors.."
"He'll be here in five minutes," Dustin announces.
"That's... quick."
"Yeah. I barely got out 'Steve is in trouble' before he hung up."
"Maybe don't start like that next time," Robin rolls her eyes. She adjusts Steve again, trying to sit him higher on her hip. "He's probably breaking at least, like, five speeding laws or something."
"I don't think that's how it works."
"Whatever." She huffs. "Jesus. Steve, bud, I might need to put you down for a sec."
"Oh... um... do you have to?"
"My arms are really starting to hurt, bud," she says. She looks as upset at the idea as he feels. "Maybe we could sit down together. Would that be a good compromise?"
"Yeah!" He grins. "What's a comp- compa-"
"Com-pruh-mise." She says it slowly, careful to sound it out, as she sits down on the sofa. She pulls Steve around so he's sat on her knees, facing her. She keeps one hand on his back, supporting him.
"Com-pa-mise," Steve repeats.
"Oh, that was great!" Robin encourages, laughing at how big and excited Steves responding grin is. "Well, compromise is when..."
Robin is so patient with him, taking her time with him, making sure he understands what she's saying- before easily jumping onto whatever tangent he brings up.
It feels like only a few minutes have passed by the time the doorbell rings. Dustin stands to answer- Steve had completely forgotten he was there the whole time, too caught up in his conversation with Robin.
He doesn't come back for a moment. Steve can hear muttering, straining to hear what they're saying, but the living room doors shut.
A man follows him inside. He's tall, with long hair and dark clothes. He looks different to anyone Steve has ever seen before. He looks scary.
"Oh god," he mumbles, frowning at Steve. "You're not joking."
Steve tugs at Robins sleeve, leaning close to her, whispering, "who's that?"
"Oh, right!" Robin groans when she stands, lifting Steve with her. "Steve, this is Eddie. Eddie, this is Steve."
"This is Steve," Eddie repeats. "Jesus Christ."
"Why do you look so scary?" Steve blurts out. He slaps a hand over his mouth, horrified.
But Eddie just laughs. "Damn, Stevie, tell me what you really think."
"You do!" Steve snaps, face warming. "All the black and chains and stuff."
"Robin is wearing 'black and chains and stuff'."
"Yeah, but Robins cool."
"You wound me," Eddie gasps, slapping a hand to his chest. "I'm totally cooler than Robin."
"Nope," Robin quickly cuts in. "Steve said I'm cool, not you. It's been said, declared- no, decreed! Facts are facts, Eds, suck on it!"
"Ew," Steve and Eddie say in sync, grimacing.
"Alright," Dustin interrupts, hands on his hips. "You're introduced, now can we go? Now?"
Playing dumb has always made everything so much easier for Steve. He'd first noticed it as a kid, when he'd gotten bored with his math homework. He'd played dumb, even used a little waterworks, and his babysitter had cracked like an egg. She'd done almost half of his homework for him.
He'd always been a fast learner too. Whenever he felt like he was actually falling behind, he very easily and quickly caught up... well, outside of the months surrounding Upside Down 'events'. It's hard to concentrate with all of that rattling around his brain.
It's why he kind of hates Eddie.
It had taken a long time for the kids to finally bully him into playing D&D with them. And, as loathe as he is to admit it, he's enjoying himself. But the more he gets into the game, the more he forgets that he's not supposed to be this good.
Eddie noticed almost immediately. He'd quickly made it a rule that no one can help Steve. Insisted that Steve's perfectly capable of playing on his own, that he can keep up.
It makes him feel more seen than he ever has. It feels like Eddie can see straight through any act he tries to throw out, smirks like Steve is telling a funny joke whenever he takes his time to try and make it look like he's struggling. Like Eddie can see him.
And, of course, he brings it up one day. He waits until the kids have rushed up to the Wheelers kitchen for food, a gentle hand on Steves arm to stop him immediately following after the kids to play babysitter.
"Why do you do it?"
"Do what?"
"You know what." Eddie raises an eyebrow, challenging.
Steve hesitates for a moment. Eventually, just shrugs. "It's easier. Got me this far. Always been better than the alternative."
"You hang out with gays and nerds, Harrington. You're in the alternative. You can drop the act. No ones gonna judge you. Not with us."
"I don't know, Dustin might disown me."
Eddie laughs, tugging at his own hair almost playfully. "He'll just be mad he didn't guess sooner. Ignore him. You're allowed to enjoy things."
Steve shakes his head. Doesn't make any promises but... he does start spending more time with Eddie. Alone. And they talk about everything together. From Star Wars theories to D&D strategies.
He's not ready to drop the act, not by any means. It still works so perfectly for him and the idea of anyone really knowing him now makes him feel painfully uncomfortable. He likes being the idiot.
But, sitting with Eddie, just the two of them? It's easy. It feels right. He knows that Eddie isn't judging him. Knows that Eddie secretly loves knowing Steve better than everyone else. Although, Steve is pretty sure he'd tell Eddie anything if they could keep having more alone time together.
Maybe being smart can make this thing he has with Eddie easier. It makes a nice change.
Steve got very lucky in middle school. If anyone other than Tommy had decided to befriend him, he's not sure they would have put up with him so long. And Tommy told him when he was doing something weird, told him what he should be doing instead. Without him, Steve would never have been popular in high school. He would've been seen as the freak.
It makes him feel weird, sitting with Robin and Eddie at one of the tables in the trailer park. They're everything he was taught to avoid. And Tommy had worked very hard to teach him the 'social rules'.
But he loves them. Even when they joke about him being 'the normal one'. Out of all the friends he's had come and go, they're easily the best. They don't even comment when he starts to slip back into his odd behaviors, when he stops trying so hard to follow 'the rules'.
He can still remember that first time he'd refused to force himself to talk. It was one of those days when it felt like so much effort. Plus, he just didn't want to.
So he didn't. He grunted a lot, hummed or shrugged. Robin didn't act like he was behaving any different, though she had looked a little confused at first. Then she'd just gone with it. She'd even nudged when it looked like Eddie was going to push. They didn't treat him any different that day, they didn't ask when he started talking again the next day.
It was always like that. They just... went with it.
Even when Eddie had accidentally prompted Steve into... well, a lecture. He'd just asked a few questions about the picture of a car Steve had framed, the only thing he has for decoration. He'd asked a couple things about it and, almost an hour later, Steve realized that he'd just been talking the whole time.
"Sorry," Steve grimaced, keeping his eyes locked on the picture. "Didn't mean to, like, bore you. Whatever."
"Nah. It's interesting. It's also kind of cool to actually hear you passionate about something. Wouldn't have thought it was cars though."
And that had been it. If anything changed, it was just because Eddie would ask about cars more often. Would almost push him into talking about all the little things he found fascinating. Almost like he wanted to hear about it- but Steve knew that wasn't the case.
It didn't make sense.
"Why do you keep asking about this shit?" Steve had finally snapped one day. "Do... I mean, you don't find this interesting, do you?"
"Not at all. You do though."
"So why do you keep asking?"
"You like it," Eddie shrugged, finally looked confused. "You let me go on rants about guitars and shit. You don't care about any of that."
"That's different though!"
"Is it?"
"Yes! It's..." Steve flounders for a moment. He doesn't know how to explain it. "It's just... it is."
"Well, it isn't to me. I like hearing about all the little nonsense you find interesting."
"But it's-"
"Steve." Eddie leans forward, grabbing his hand. Steve stares at their hands, slowly shifting so their fingers are entwined. "You get so excited when you talk about all your little car facts. It's adorable."
"It's not... weird or annoying?"
"You think I'd be put off by something weird?" He snorts, looks hesitant for a moment before lifting their hands up, pressing a light kiss to the back of his hand. "It's something you enjoy and makes you happy. Why would that annoy me?"
Steve tries to swallow, his mouth feeling painfully dry. "Am I reading this right?"
"Yeah. I think so, anyway. I can't figure you out half the time. You're gonna need to take that risk, baby boy."
There's something... off about Steve. Eddie can't quite put his finger on it, but he started noticing it a long time ago. Long before they actually met. Back at the tail end of his King Steve days.
He'd gotten glimpses, like he was seeing behind a mask. The way Steve usual smirk and swagger would drop, just for a moment. But he didn't look upset about losing friends... he looked haunted. Something so empty and lost about him. The moment would be over as fast as Eddie saw it, the whole King Steve persona slipping back on just as easily as it slipped off.
The look on Steves face stuck with him though. There was something so unsettling about it. Something so wrong. Because Steve was the spoilt, rich, popular kid. He had distant parents, everyone knows that, but... Eddie didn't want to think about what could've shaken up Steve Harrington so much, what could leave him looking so traumatized. He doesn't want to know.
But, of course, Eddie never got so lucky.
He's surprised, yet not at all, when he finds out that Steve has been dealing with the alternate dimension bullshit for years. It makes so many little things make sense. Makes the sudden loss of social status, the complete 180 in his attitude, seem reasonable.
And that should've been it. As nice as it was, saving the world with Steve Harrington, Eddie understands how things are. Even with his reputation shredded, hanging out with the town freak- now town 'we still think he's a murderer no matter how much they clear his name' level freak- is far, far below Steve.
But Steve keeps seeking him out. He keeps knocking on the trailer door. Ringing him up. Turning up to D&D sessions early so he can talk his way into coming back to hang out with Eddie.
Sometimes the King Steve mask makes a return, more often a mutation of it. But, for some reason, there's no masks on when it's just the two of them. Steve is freely and openly weird. He admits to things that Eddie knows he wouldn't usually share without pressure. But he shares them with Eddie.
Eddie asks him. But Steve just... smiles. Changes the subject with such ease that it isn't until later that Eddie even realizes that he never answered. He's kind of impressed.
Eddie learns to love it. He's got such deep insights into Steves psyche now that he can read him better than Robin can. He makes a point of correcting Robin too, enjoying the confusion and frustration he causes. Especially with how often she jokingly threatens him for stealing her soulmate.
And he is. It takes him a while to realize that he is... but he is. He's essentially stealing Steve.
He doesn't like groups. Not a lot. He likes having quiet moments with a couple people, he likes spending alone time with people, and it's no different with Steve. He likes knowing that he definitely has all of the attention and that the other person has all of his.
So maybe he feels a little possessive over their alone time, over the way Steve is so open with him specifically. With him exclusively. But it's not getting in the way of anything, it's not a problem.
Until, one day, Eddie notices Steve slipping away behind a mask. It's not the usual King Steve or variant. That throws Eddie off. It makes him too curious to ask, to look too close as to why. He wants to know more about the mask Steve is creating.
It's suave. Confident. It gives Steve an air of romance, something about it making him seem so much more slick. Like the persona of an old romcom movies male lead. It makes him stand a little straighter, it has his eyes wondering so freely. It makes Eddie blush.
Eddie stops him one day. He has to make sure Steve understands that, whatever he's doing with this new mask, Eddie isn't feeling friendship things about it.
Steve gives him that smile again, the one that makes it clear that Steve has figured something out that Eddie hasn't. He doesn't change the subject this time. He pointedly steps closer, grabs Eddies hand.
"Maybe I don't want you to feel friendship things about me," Steve says. He doesn't have the usual slick tone of his new mask. He looks a little nervous. "Maybe I only wear this mask with you."
Steve doesn't let him kiss him, ducks to the side far too smoothly. He still has Eddies hand in his. Eddie can't help but narrow his eyes, suspicious of the playful grin he's getting.
"Let me take you on a date first. A nice dinner, some expensive red wine..."
"Fuck you," Eddie is grinning though. Revels in the way his bluntness makes the mask slip again, this time because Steve is too amused to hide it- something that is more and more common.
It's more rare, these days, to see Steves masks slip because of whatever horrors he's remembering. It's almost always because of Eddie, making him smile, making him laugh. Not even his King Steve mask can hold up against Eddies odd, feral charm.
Finally being invited on one of his parents trips is... well, Steve tries to be normal about it, but he's excited. He's only been invited on two. Three if he's counting the one to Chicago for a big family get-together, which he doesn't.
The only problem comes up when they sit him down and ask about all the scars he has. They want the trip to be a fun time, a nice family get-away where they can give their little boy a little peace from the chaos of Hawkins.
When he struggled to think of an excuse, his mother softly asked if he did them himself.
Reluctantly, he ducked his head in feigned shame, nodding.
His mother hurried to her feet, almost sitting on him in her effort to squeeze onto the one-man seat with him, wrapping him up tight in her arms. She whispered promises of love and safety.
His father had a look like he'd swallowed a lemon, but he too promised to provide the support than Steve needs to get through... whatever he's going through.
Steve swears to them that he's dealt with it, he's over it. He's just trying to move on now.
"Fucking hell," Eddie hisses when Steve finishes telling them about it all. "You can't be real. They think you did that shit to yourself?" He gestures to Steves stomach.
"I don't think they know about those. The older ones do look, uh... suspicious."
He rubs the thin ones on his left wrist, where a demogorgons claws had caught him in that last, big fight. Eddies hand is gentle when he pulls said wrist closer, thumb brushing over the scars.
"You do make a good point."
"I'm gonna miss you," Steve mumbles.
"It's just a week."
"Yeah, tell me about."
And he's right- he's barely stepped off the plane, a short 5 hour flight, and he's already homesick. He wishes he could've thought of a way to convince his parents to let him invite a friend.
Once they're settled in, though, it's alright. There's a lot of activities, a lot of places to visit and a lot of things to try.
On their second day, they try to start the routine of spending most of midday at the beach. His parents sunbathe, whilst he swims in the sea. The water is cool, a relief from the heat.
They always make him put jeans on after.
It doesn't matter how many times he points out that it's more than uncomfortable- not only in the heat, but with the lingering water. They insist that he puts jeans on.
They'd gotten him the new jeans special. They're supposed to be thinner, better for heat.
"It just seems unnecessary," Steve had said when they'd first presented them to him. "I have so many shorts!"
"Sweetheart, your scars," his mother had pointed out. "People will look. You don't want to make us look bad, do you?"
For three days, he went along with it. He tried to ignore the discomfort. But the heat was too much. The water making the material rub uncomfortably against his skin.
On the fourth day, as he's drying himself, he hesitates. He stares at the jeans his mother holds out for a moment.
"What if... I don't wear them, right now? It's so hot and my legs are still wet. Just until we get back to the hotel."
"Steve, no, that's not a-"
"Please. Just until we get back to the hotel. Just today."
"You've already made up your mind, haven't you?" His mother sighs, shaking her head when he gives her a sheepish smile. "Fine. Get your things."
He's so happy, comfortable in his swim shorts, that he walks with a bounce in his step. The breeze on his legs is almost soothing.
He's tempted to skip as he starts up the street.
There's a bright little drinks shop up ahead that he spots. The advertisement signs have pictures of ice creams and smoothies, things that look tasty and cold.
He turns to ask his mother if she'd like to stop there for a drink, to cool down after sunbathing. But she's not behind him.
There not far behind him, so he stops. He grins when they look to him, waving... his hand slowly dropping when he realizes that they stopped walking, as soon as he stopped.
But they're looking to the map. Maybe they're lost.
When he starts walking to them, they turn, walking a few steps that match his own. The only thing in that direction is the beach.
They don't want to be seen with me, he realizes.
He turns back around, slowly walking to that little drink shop. Although, he's not sure he needs to buy anything to cool him down. His insides feel numb enough now.
He sits at one of the tables outside, wondering if his parents will even try to sit with him or just... abandon him.
They do sit with him, pretending like nothing happened. It's the same attitude they have when they get in the taxi, after distancing themselves on the walk there too. The promised trip to the mall abandoned without word.
Steve spends the rest of the little vacation in his room. He lies about being tired, not feeling too well, whenever they try to invite him out with them.
They buy him the top he'd been eyeing. They seem to think that the little gift, and bragging about it being expensive, will make him feel better. He's sure that it's not an apology though.
On the plane ride home, it's odd to think about how excited he'd been. How hopeful.
The only comfort is Eddie. He goes straight to him, immediately after dumping his suitcase in his room, not even bothering to unpack.
He's furious when Steve explains what happened.
"I've never liked your parents," he announces. He points to Wayne, who looks just as angry. "Wayne gets it. Assholes, right?"
"Assholes," Wayne grunts, nodding stiffly. "You deserve better than that, son."
"So much better," Eddie agrees, pulling him closer so he can kiss his cheek. He keeps littering his face with kisses, until Steve laughs. "You deserve the world, big boy."
