The thing about drinking at 31 years old is that it's different from drinking at 18 years old– or 21 years old, or even 25 years old. Each shot, each drink, is one sip away from a terrible night’s sleep and an equally terrible morning.
Eddie Munson’s figured this out. Steve Harrington though? Steve Harrington has not.
That’s how Eddie finds himself corralling his husband onto the couch after stumbling into the house, the front door slamming loud enough to jolt their cat out of her otherwise peaceful slumber. She glares for a moment before stretching her paws and curling back into a neat little ball.
“Okay, okay, okay,” Steve repeats, an immediate tell that he’s definitely not making it any further than the couch anyways. “I’m good, I’m fine, this– this is a nice couch.” He punctuates his thought by slapping the cushion and laughing.
Eddie shakes his head and grins. “Yep, it sure is. You picked it out, remember?”
Steve gasps and laughs some more, falling back into the corner of the sectional. “I don’t but it’s comfy so if I did, I did a good fucking job.”
He watches with fond comfortability as Steve squirms around on the couch and lays back, arms over his head and dopey laugh still on his lips. It takes a lot of willpower and frankly, respect, not to climb on top of this giggly, flushed, disheveled man he loves so goddamn much and kiss him until he’s flushed for other reasons, but he digs deep and focuses on doing the next best thing: taking care of him. Eddie’s a little worse for the wear in his own right but a sliver of his iron constitution remains from his wild youth and he hangs on by a thread.
Eddie gets Steve situated into a comfortable position, his back against one side of the cushions and his head propped up on a few pillows to make sure he doesn’t end up with his face smushed into the corner somehow.
“I’m good, I’m fine– hey, hey, what are you doing?” Steve slurs and Eddie looks up from his position at the end of the couch, his fingers moving quickly as he unties Steve’s sneakers.
“Taking your shoes off? You can’t sleep in your jeans, Stevie. You’ll thank me tomorrow.”
Steve hums from somewhere high in his throat but doesn’t say anything else Eddie moves to unhook his belt.
“Stop–stop it, hey, I’m married!” Steve smacks Eddie’s hand and Eddie barely suppresses a cackle. “You’re hot and all but I’m married and my husband’s hotter than you anyways.”
With that, Eddie can’t stop himself. Warmth spreads through his chest as he laughs, from his heart all the way down to the tingling in his toes. Even drunk, even with his eyes closed, Steve would still choose him without a thought and sure, after all these years, it shouldn’t come as a surprise but it does. Because Steve is Steve, and Eddie is Eddie, and Eddie still hasn’t figured out what huge karmic debt he must’ve paid for them to have become SteveAndEddie.
He stares at Steve who’s nearly asleep but feebly muttering words like “hot,” and “perfect,” and “lucky.”
“Hey, hey, Stevie, open your eyes for a second?” Eddie brushes the hair back from his forehead, gently shifting it away from his bloodshot, glossy eyes. He’s beautiful, even like this, what the fuck?
“Oh,” Steve’s eyebrow unfurrow and the right side of his mouth turns up into a small grin. “It’s you. Hi, Ed.”
“Hi, Steve.” Eddie chuckles and kisses his forehead. “Gonna get your jeans off so you can sleep, okay?”
“Mhm, yeah, that’s– thanks.”
Eddie coaxes them off, tossing them onto a chair where they’ll remain until the next morning, and sets a glass of water down on the coffee table for when Steve inevitably wakes up with cottonmouth. One more soft kiss and an even softer blanket later, Steve is out and Eddie tip toes up the stairs to bed.
The next morning, Eddie wakes to see Steve next to him. At some point, he must’ve woken up and gotten himself to bed which gives Eddie the opportunity to stare uninterrupted in the silence of their bedroom. It stands in stark contrast to the boisterous night before– the loud music and jumping bodies and Chrissy popping a bottle of champagne in celebration of Robin saying yes, as if there’d ever been a doubt.
Steve’s on his back, the sun just starting to intrude on their tranquility. He takes in Steve’s features, the same ones he’s memorized time and time again but that never fail to stun him just the same. The moles, the freckles, the scars that make him ache and feel thankful simultaneously. The strong line of his jaw, the eyelashes that flutter as he sleeps, that one tendril of hair that insists on curling until Steve forces it into place. Eddie’s seen a lot of the world now, having traveled a bit with his band, and there’s nothing that compares to the man sleeping next to him.
Even if he’s snoring.
When Steve does eventually wake up, trudging downstairs with one eye open and asking why Long Island Iced Tea’s even exist, Eddie’s ready with the necessities– a black iced coffee, two sausage, egg, and cheese sandwiches delivered to their doorstep, and a Gatorade for himself.
“You’re the fucking best, you know that?” Steve smiles through the pounding headache as he sips his coffee and tears into the sandwich.
“Eh, I try,” Eddie grins with a mouthful of egg and leans over to bump their shoulders together.
Comfortable quiet drapes over them like the blanket from last night still over the back of the couch, and like the jeans hanging off the recliner– little reminders of the night before and of the domesticity of the life they’ve built together.
Once Steve finishes his sandwich, their cat, Florence, hops up on the table and starts batting at the rolled up wrappers.
“Think she wants to play,” Steve grumbles, sliding off the couch and laying on the carpet. “Listen, Florence, you know I love you but kid, I cannot play right now. I’m barely alive.”
Eddie doubles over and nearly spits Gatorade all over the coffee table. Even their terrible, hungover, washed up mornings aren't all that bad.
Tags: smut!, humping, nipple play, semi-public sexual activity, drug use (just some pot), flirting through food, friends to lovers, established friendship
Summary: Your best friend Eddie Munson invites you camping, and while you're reluctant at first, you realize this might be just the chance you need to finally show him how you feel.
Notes: I was rage-inspired by the TERRIBLE take on s'mores they recently featured on Great British Bake-Off. Pretty sure this is the first time the British have inspired hot, sexy smut. Thanks as always to @tonybourdain for her invaluable help as beta, idea bouncer-off-ofer, and just all around wonderful and amazing human.
This is meant as a one-shot, but if y'all want I can add more.
Feedback is always welcome and appreciated and PLEASE reblog if you can! It's how posts spread around here; likes are appreciated, but they do nothing to boost interaction. :)
part 1 | part 2
In case you wanna read on Ao3 instead
“Camping?” You blink at him, confused. “Eddie, you hate camping.”
He scowls and kicks at the ground. “Yeah, I do, but Henderson and his friends wanna go, but their parents want some older kids to go to make sure they don’t set the woods on fire or something.”
You lift a brow, struggling not to grin. “And they nominated you?”
He smirks a little. “Dustin’s mom loves me.”
“Uh huh, I bet.” He's weirdly popular with moms, even your own. You'd think the whole metalhead thing would be a turn off, but they seem to like it.
It works for you, so maybe you shouldn't be that surprised.
“Look, Nancy and Steve are going, but I don’t wanna third wheel it. They’ll be makin’ goo goo eyes at each other all night.” He rolls his own eyes, then gives you puppy face. “Pllleaaase? I’ll be your best friend!”
“You’re already my best friend, doofus.” You sigh. “But fine. I’ll go. Anything to get out of a weekend with my parents’ passive-aggressive bullshit.”
“Fuck yeah!” He lifts your hand so he can high five you (you’re known to leave him hanging) and spends a few seconds jumping around before he comes back to you. “Okay, so, Saturday morning we’re meeting at the lake and then hiking to the campsite. It’s not too far, but far enough to feel like the wilderness. Should I pick you up?”
“Sure,” you say, amused by his excitement. “Anything special I should bring? Besides the obvious.”
“Junk food.”
“You don’t have that covered?”
He shrugs. “I’ll bring some stuff, but I like the way your mind works, snack-wise. That snack mix you brought at Christmas? Blew my fucking mind.”
“My aunt makes that, so I won’t be bringing it, but I’ll come with something good. Now we both have class, and you can’t cut again. I’ll see you after for Hellfire.” You say your goodbyes and head to class.
Maybe camping with Eddie Munson and a band of young miscreants isn't a great idea. The kids you're not worried about, but Eddie? Alone in the dark woods with Eddie? Okay, not alone, but...
What if Nancy and Steve decide to share a tent? Will you be sharing with Eddie? Maybe it's a sign: this is the time to finally make your move. You can roll over in your little shared tent and kiss him and slide your hand down his shorts and—okay, whoa, you're at school. Save thoughts like that for tonight, in bed, by yourself.
Today, math class. Saturday, possibly finally making a move on your best friend.
Eddie picks you up bright and early Saturday morning, and he's more or less dressed for hiking: that is, boots instead of his usual Reeboks, and his long hair is pulled back with one of his many bandanas. He also left his bigger rings at home, which makes him look almost naked.
"Hey!" he says. "Lookin' good, Camper Bob!"
You roll your eyes. "Such a dweeb," you say, but with affection. You're wearing a t shirt and jean shorts, plus hiking boots and a jean jacket. It'll be much cooler tonight, but for now it's warm, and hiking in jeans is always a mistake.
He helps you stow your pack in the back, then you hop in and you're off.
Everyone's already at the lake when you get there, and it's chaos. How can so few people make so much noise?! You give Eddie a Look, and he wades in.
"Alright, alright! Pay attention! Boy Scout Steve is leading this dog and pony show, so listen to him and don't be little shits! We're here to enjoy nature, and you can't do that if you can't keep the volume below a dull roar. So shut the fuck up for 5 minutes and look around!"
You muffle a giggle behind your hand and share a grin with Nancy. Steve is rolling his eyes and grimacing, but he loves this shit. He takes his place at the front of the group and gets everyone organized for the hike. Finally, after what feels like forever, you set off into the woods.
You hike until mid-afternoon, and by the time you stop everyone's tired and cranky. Steve gets people setting up tents and digging pits for fires while you, Eddie, and Nancy organize the food. There are enough hot dogs to feed an army, plenty of chips, baked beans (gross), and...
"Fuck yeah, s'mores!" Eddie says.
"Thought you'd like that," you say. You add another bag of marshmallows to the pile and his grin widens.
"You know, that'll go perfectly with this," he says and pulls a baggie from his jacket pocket.
Nancy's eyes widen a little. "We can't give that to the kids!"
Eddie makes a face. "I don't give kids drugs, Nance. It's for us! The more-or-less grownups."
"I'm in," you say with a shrug. "I need it after today."
"Knew I could count on you, pumpkin patch."
The two of you have this old running joke in your friendship: you are firm in your belief that he's actually a human Muppet, and nickname him accordingly. As a sort of payback (he has a rep to maintain, and "human Muppet" is not it) he comes up with the weirdest, most random shit he can think of to call you. This is a new one.
"What does that mean?" you say.
He shrugs and stuffs the bag away. "I dunno. It's fall. Pumpkins. It made sense in my head!"
"Weird things make sense in your head, Grove."
"That's the truth," he says with an unbothered grin. "Lemme go help Steve with the fire."
It's dark. Everyone's fed. The kids are around the fire telling scary stories. Eddie gives you a subtle nod and the four of you wander off to sample his product.
"This is probably a terrible idea," Steve says as he puffs and coughs, then passes the joint to Nancy. "We're responsible for these kids!"
"They're 14, Steve, not 6," Nancy says. She takes a delicate puff before handing it to you.
"They seem pretty good at handling themselves," Eddie says. The night's turned chilly, especially away from the fire, and he has his arm thrown around you in easy camaraderie. He's gained a little weight recently; still skinny, but not a rail; and it looks good on him. Feels good too, you note as you lean into him.
He takes the joint from you and inhales deeply before handing it off to Steve. He nuzzles your hair. It smells like wood smoke and leaves and under that, your usual shampoo. He tries to keep his eyes off your bare legs, but it's a struggle. "Not so bad, huh? Camping?"
You look up at him with a little smile. "I could learn to like it. Maybe."
You continue passing the joint around until it's nearly gone. Eddie carefully puts it out and adds it to the Sucrets tin he carries, then you head back toward the group. He grabs your hand and pulls you close. "C'mon, it's s'mores time," he says.
"Oh god I could murder a s'more!"
"Did someone say s'mores?" Dustin says.
"Grab sticks," Steve tells them. "It's time for marshmallows!"
He tosses the bags to Nancy and they all scatter to find roasting sticks. Soon you're back, stick in hand, eager for a roasted marshmallow-and-chocolate treat.
Nancy hands you a couple of marshmallows and you drop down onto a rock next to Eddie. "Burnt or bust," you tell him, and thrust your marshmallow-laden stick into the fire.
He laughs and does the same. Your marshmallows catch fire at the same time and you quickly pull yours out to blow out the flame. It's black and brown on the outside, oozy on the inside, and when you smash it between the chocolate and graham cracker, it goes everywhere.
"Oop!" You hastily lick trailing bits of marshmallow off your fingers and down your wrist, and when you look up Eddie's eyeing you, his own stick forgotten in his hand. "What?" you say.
"Nothing." He dips his head back to assembling his s'more. "Nope, nothing at all."
You lift a brow. That was...interesting. You aren't blind: you know Eddie checks you out from time to time. Or at least you hope so, but sometimes you think it's just wishful thinking. That clearly wasn't. Apparently sucking sticky sweet mess off your fingers is the way to his heart. Or at least his boner.
You squish your s'more together and take a bite, and of course chocolate smears on your lips and all over your fingers. You make a little noise of protest and start to suck your fingers clean again, and when you look over Eddie once again can't take his eyes off of you.
"Munson," you say with a little grin. "Are you going to stare or help?"
"Help?" he says, his voice breaking a little. "Help with what?"
"The mess I'm making. And look!" You point at his little marshmallow sandwich. Chocolate is dripping onto the back of his hand. "Silly," you say. You lean in and carefully lick the chocolate off his skin.
He freezes. You licked him. With your tongue. Now you're sucking more chocolate and marshmallow of your hands and fingers, all while looking right at him. Marshmallow. Long, melted strings of white that ooze just like—
No! Nope. No. He is NOT going to think of you and come in the same sentence. Your little pink tongue darting out over your full pink lips, licking the white off with a happy noise that he feels right in the cock.
He carefully sets his own uneaten s'more aside and grabs you. "C'mere," he says, voice rough.
"Eddie—!"
He pulls you into the woods, away from the noise of the kids and the heat of the fire, and pushes you against a tree. You stare up at him, wide-eyed, and he looks down with a frown of concentration between his brows.
"You're kinda evil," he says.
"What the hell are you doing?" you breathe. Your heart is pounding, your cheeks flushed, and you still have marshmallow and chocolate on your fingers.
As though reading your mind, he grabs one of your hands and carefully sucks a finger into his mouth. He swirls his tongue around it, licking and sucking every bit of sweet off your skin, and you feel your knees go weak. You let out a soft moan and lean against the tree to support you.
He does the same thing to each finger and even your thumb, and by the time he's through you're panting and squirming. He rubs his thumb across your lower lip, tugging it a bit, and smiles at you. "Maybe I should get you back to camp," he murmurs. "You look a little...out of it."
"Oh shut up," you breathe. You grab his shirt and pull him in for a kiss.
His hand slips around to the small of your back while the other grips your bare thigh below your shorts. Your arms go around his neck and you're biting and sucking his full, gorgeous lips. "Eddie," you breathe. "Is this why you brought me camping?"
"What, to make out in the woods?" He shrugs a little. "No, but it's a really nice bonus."
You laugh as he kisses you again, his tongue slipping into your mouth and swirling against yours. He presses his hips into you and you slide your knee up against his thighs.
"Mmmm what's that?" you whisper. "A roasting stick in your pocket?"
"Not exactly," he says. He rocks against you just right, so that the bulge of his erection rubs you through all your layers of clothing. You bite down on your lip to muffle a whimper and he kisses you again, harder. "Goddamn I've wanted you forever, baby. To touch you and taste you and make you moan my name."
He rubs his thumb over your lip again. You're looking up at him with big, dazed eyes, pupils blown and mouth soft and swollen. He slowly reaches down to unzip your shorts. "You can stop me," he says.
You shake your head. "Don't stop, Eddie," you breathe. "I've wanted you too. I never—I was afraid to say anything, but—please?"
He kisses you hard and shoves your shorts down to your ankles. You kick them away as he drops to his knees and kisses your thighs. He bites. Sucks. You bury both hands in his hair and try to keep breathing.
He kisses his way up your body, completely ignoring your panties, and pushes your shirt up. He tugs the cups of your bra down and spends ages licking and sucking your nipples. He switches back and forth between them until they're both swollen and aching and you're wiggling against the tree.
"Eddie, please!"
"Please what, princess?" he murmurs, lashing his tongue back and forth across your nipple while he squeezes your tits with both hands. "Tell me what you want."
"My pussy! Please!" you gasp. "I'm so wet! I need you!"
"Fuck!" he rasps. He kisses your tummy. "Whatever you need, baby." He grips your hips and kisses just above your panties. Your head falls back on a quiet moan, but the tree's closer than you thought.
"Ow!" you say, sharply.
"Babe?" He jumps to his feet, but it's too fast. He reaches out to grab you, but you're a little dizzy from smacking your head, and you both end up tumbling to the forest floor.
You lie there a moment sprawled out on top of him, shorts off, tits out, and then you start to giggle. He barks out a laugh and soon you're both laughing so hard you can barely breathe. You move a little, your legs falling to either side of his hips so that you're straddling him, and you're both still laughing and gasping.
You rock your hips, and the next breath he sucks in is entirely different. "Babe—"
"Shhh. I can feel you, Eddie. Mmmmm you're so hard for me!"
He gets over his surprise quickly and grabs your hips again, this time to guide you as you move. "Yeah, princess. All for you. I swear to god every erection I've had for the last two years has been for you." He laughs. "And there've been a lot of 'em."
"Mmmm bad boy," you breathe. You rest your hands on his chest and grind against his erection. The rough material of his jeans makes your panties slip and slide along your dripping slit just right.
"Fuck, baby, that feels so fucking good! Don't stop!"
You lean down to kiss him, changing the angle just right, and he rubs his hands over your ass. You love the feel of his guitar callouses, how soft his palms are. "Eddie!" you gasp against his mouth. "God, Eddie, I'm so wet!"
He groans. "For me, princess? Is that all for me?"
"Uh huh, every drop! Fuck, I need—!" You rock faster, grind against him harder. You can't believe you're just out in the woods humping Eddie Munson's erection through his jeans. You feel wanton and incredible and you know you're close.
"Take what you need, angel," he breathes. "Anything you need. You gonna come, baby?"
"Uh huh!" you whimper. "Oh god Eddie oh fuck!"
"Good girl, fuck, that's so hot, you're so fuckin' hot! Take it, baby, come for me!" he mumbles in your ear, his breath hot and his words slurred by his own need for you.
"Eddie!!" you cry, a little louder than you intended, and the orgasm takes you. He holds you down against him while he bucks his hips to drive you higher and higher.
"Good girl," he says, almost a moan. "Good girl!"
You finally start to come down from it and fall against his chest. He kisses your temple, runs his hands through your hair. You lift your head to give him a long, easy kiss. "Your turn," you murmur.
"Fuck!" he gasps, and you're just starting to work your way down when you hear a familiar voice echoing through the woods.
Calling your name. Then, "Eddie!"
Your eyes widen. "Oh fuck!" You scramble to your feet and cast around for your shorts. Your panties are soaked and sticking to you, but there's not much you can do about it.
Eddie jumps up as the voice gets closer and helps you fix your bra and top, tug your shorts on and zip them up. You're barely decent when the flashlights bob into view and Steve and Dustin appear in the little clearing.
"Shit, there you are," Steve says. "We thought you got lost."
"Nope!" you say. You run both hands through your mussed hair. "No, just ate a bit too much. Needed some fresh air away from the fire."
"Dude!" Dustin says. He has his light trained on Eddie's crotch. Luckily his erection has gone down, but... "Did you piss yourself?!" he says around barely-contained laughter.
"What?!" He glances down and sees the big wet spot you left on his jeans. You feel your face catch fire.
"You did! You pissed yourself! I gotta tell everybody!"
"I didn't piss myself, Henderson!" Eddie says. "I spilled my flask."
Dustin shines the light in Eddie's face, and he winces away from it. "You brought alcohol and drugs on a camping trip with minors? Edward Munson!"
"How did you know about the drugs?!" Eddie says.
Dustin shrugs. "I've got a nose, dude."
"Okay, okay," Steve says. "Let's get back. You feeling better?" he says to you.
You glance at Eddie. "Much!" you say. "Eddie?"
"Feelin' great," he mumbles. "Hate that I spilled my flask."
Dustin just rolls his eyes and turns back toward camp. You fall in next to him while Steve and Eddie bring up the rear.
Steve nudges him. "You really spill your flask?" he mutters.
"Left my flask at home," Eddie says. "But I had to think of somethin'!"
"Uh huh." Steve's trying not to laugh. "That you or her?"
Eddie doesn't say anything, just looks away with a shrug. "I don't kiss and tell, man. But." He frowns and carefully adjusts himself. "It ain't me."
Steve muffles a bark of laughter in the crook of his elbow. "Okay then. Nancy owes me ten bucks."
"What?!"
"We had a bet that you two would hook up on this trip. I said yeah, she said no. I knew I'd win."
"Jesus," Eddie says, but he's struggling not to grin. He got the girl! For once in his life. You glance back at him with a soft, pretty smile, and his grin breaks through.
Yeah, he thinks he could probably get used to camping too.
the boy in the band is backstage after the show on ao3
explicit | complete | 16k
Pigs might as well start flying. The sun could rise in the west and set in the east. Everyone could start ageing backwards.
All those things would make more sense than Steve Harrington blowing him backstage at a gay bar.
The Space Between
Chapter 7: A Lesson on Both Dungeons and Dragons
AO3
A Stranger Things fanfic
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: None
Relationships: Chrissy Cunningham/Eddie Munson
Characters: Chrissy Cunningham, Eddie Munson, Jason Carver, Laura Cunningham, Heather Holloway
Additional Tags: No Vecna (Stranger Things), Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Eddie Munson Has a Crush on Chrissy Cunningham, Chrissy Cunningham Has a Crush on Eddie Munson, Touch-Starved Chrissy Cunningham, Touch-Starved Eddie Munson, Soft Eddie Munson, Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified, Chrissy Cunningham Cheats On Jason Carver, Not Jason Carver Friendly, Bad Parent Laura Cunningham, Dry Humping, Vaginal Fingering, Cunnilingus, Oral Sex, Vaginal Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, Recreational Drug Use, Car Sex, Squirting, Semi-Public Sex
Summary: New Year's Eve 1985. At midnight the lights go out and the goal is simple: kiss the person closest to you or have bad luck the whole year. For Chrissy Cunningham, the closest warm body just happens to belong to Eddie Munson. The kiss is electric, life-altering, and after six years of crushing on each other from afar, they're both left wondering where they can possibly go from here. Can two people, so seemingly different, ever find the common ground they need to truly connect?
It turns out the space between a princess and a freak isn't as wide as either of them thought.
Speechless. That’s how will felt as the elevator doors opened.
Mike stood on something to elevate himself above the crowd milling about him, holding up a sign and surrounded by their friends.
WILL BYERS HAPPY almost BIRTHDAY!
Speechless.
Will made his way, ears burning, over to everyone. But it was Mike that held him like a magnet, pulling him in.
Mike stepped forwards and pulled Will into a hug. It was just a hug. But it wasn’t just a hug because no hug had ever felt like this before. Goosebumps rose on his skin, his cheeks tingled with his flush as Mike wrapped him up in a hug with so much feeling. Even someone as oblivious as Mike would be able to feel the charge in the air. They pulled back awkwardly, taking in all the eyes on them, their friends sharing knowing looks.
Mike took a step back from Will, his fingers matching the tremble in Will’s own.
“We missed you,” quieter, “I...missed you.”
Will could feel the flush rising in his cheeks, “I missed you too.”
Mike gave him some space as their friends bustled in to give out hugs and warm welcomes.
Back seat of the car, Mike and him shuffle awkwardly, wary of each other’s space.
Their friends were busy chatting but Will knew it wouldn’t drone out the sound of their voices, anything said here would not be private.
Yet Will’s brain was filled with an endless need to voice every stupid thought that came to him.
Thankfully Mike stopped him long enough to hand him something.
Will cradled the intricately little wrapped parcel in the palms of his shaking hands.
“It’s a gift,” Mike said evenly, “it’s everything I don’t know how to say.”
Will unwrapped the parcel carefully. So much care had been taken that Will was filled with unworthy guilt.
A mixtape.
Will’s voice wavered, “you made this?”
Mike nodded in his humble way, as though Will didn’t not have anything valuable for him in return.
A folded letter with nervous creases as though it had been folded over and over again, fluttered down from behind the mixtape.
Will picked it up as though he were afraid it would disappear before his very eyes.
Will’s nerves left him in a rush as he began to laugh.
“What is this?” he could barely contain his laughter.
Mike grinned, “you don’t like my drawing skills?”
Will’s eyes roved over the drawing. A headstone with the words: Here lies Mike Wheeler’s dignity.
Will covered his laugh with a hand, “you didn’t have to be so forward.”
Mike laughed, “it was just sort of heat of the moment stuff...”
“We’re almost home so you better get ready,” Will said, unbuckling his seatbelt.
“Why? What’s at home?”
The car pulled to a stop in front of the house. Will opened the door and climbed out, he looked over his shoulder at Mike, “no more chaperones.”
straight for the throat (you’re an animal) by sirencalls
explicit ♡ 4.7k ♡ steddie
Eddie’s eyes go soft with understanding. He looks down at his feet. “Yeah, the nightmares kick ass, don’t they?”
Steve swallows, feeling his cheeks heat up. “Something like that.”
Eddie looks up at Steve through his lashes, seemingly assessing him, and whatever he finds causes his face to break out into a wide grin. “Oh, I know that look. How did you end up with the steamy sex dreams and I got stuck with the gory shit?”
“im so tired.” “then sleep.” “I can’t. that’s when they come.” + harringrove (please and thank you!)
do you have room for one more troubled soul?(fic requests open)part ii: you’re a canary, i’m a coal minepart iii: too tired to be fighting
Billy hasn’t said a word all day.
This is not strange, exactly. He gets surly-quiet. He snarls and scowls, he gets gruff and moody, he bites out one-word answers and stinging sarcastic quips. But this is different. He isn’t angry. He doesn’t look mad. He isn’t being mean. This isn’t some sour mood that a long drive will fix. Steve knows this. He knows because he can see the deep, dark circles bruised beneath Billy’s eyes. He knows because Billy has spent every class period starting blankly at the board and didn’t. have a single word to say when Mrs. Click tried to call him out (”Mr. Hargrove, what are your thoughts?”, and Billy had just stared at her, unblinking and unfazed by every follow-up question - “What does Gilman say about powerlessness? Mr. Hargrove? How about the pattern on the wall? Does that mean anything to you, Mr. Hargrove?” - until she finally kicked him out of the classroom with a stern look and a pointed finger; Billy gathered up his things and slinked away, not seeming to hear the whispers that simmered in his wake).
Steve can’t find him after school. He isn’t in the locker rooms or on the basketball court, and when Steve finally wanders into the parking lot he sees Max with her back against the Camaro, her skateboard at her feet and her arms crossed.
“Everything okay?” Steve asks.
“Billy’s not with you?” she asks. Steve glances around him as if searching for Billy, holding out his hands to show the utter absence of her brother in their midst.
“Sorry,” he says.
“Whatever,” Max shrugs. “I was just gonna tell him I’m going to Mike’s anyway.”
“Right,” Steve says. “Friday. Campaign night.”
“Weird that you know that,” Max says. “Can you tell Billy? Tell him to pick me up at ten?”
“Nine,” Steve says, flinching internally at how incredibly mom-like it makes him sound. He holds up his hand to stop her from commenting on it. “I heard it. I’m sorry. I’ll tell him.”
“Thanks,” Max says. She kicks off on her board and begins to roll away.
“Wait,” Steve calls, and Max drops one foot to the ground. “Is he okay? Billy?”
At this, Max turns around, her brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”
“He just seems…I don’t know, out of it. I know you two don’t exactly, like, talk, but,” Steve trails off, and his gaze falls to his feet. He sighs heavily and shakes his head. “Forget it. Forget I asked. I’ll tell him to get you tonight, okay?”
But Max doesn’t leave, and it’s at least a minute before she speaks again. “He’s been going out at night. Going for, like, drives or something. I don’t really know. That’s all I got.”
“Every night?”
“Like I said,” Max tells him, “that’s all I know.”
“Right,” Steve says. “Right, okay. Thanks.”
“Sure,” Max shrugs. She skates away and this time Steves lets her. He stands there, alone in the parking lot, scanning the now thinning stream of students trickling from the building, trying to spot Billy in the mix. Almost everyone is gone by the time Billy emerges, looking almost drunk as he stumbles from the school pinching the bridge of his nose. Carol tries approach him and he barely notices her hand on his shoulder. Steve’s heart lodges in his throat and he walks toward them with long strides.
“Everything okay here?” Steve asks when he’s close enough.
“You tell me,” Carol says, scowling as she looks Billy up and down. It’s clear that he hasn’t even looked at her - his primary offense against her. Steve’s hands hover over Billy’s back, not quite touching him but ready to catch him should he fall. Carol has removed her hand, her fingers curled like she’s touched something disgusting. “Good luck with that,” she says, and she walks off in a huff.
“Hey,” Steve says, speaking softly even though he’s sure Carol is out of earshot. “Billy?”
Billy doesn’t look at him, but his head does jerk slightly toward Steve, and Steve finally lets a hand fall on Billy’s back.
“Come on,” Steve says. “I’m gonna take you to my place.” He starts to move, but Billy doesn’t budge. He’s like a stone. Steve tries to guide him, but he won’t move, rooted like a tree where he stands. “No one’s there, I promise. And Max went to Mike’s. It’s okay.” This time, Billy does look at him, and he blinks slowly as if seeing Steve for the first time. “Okay?” Steve asks. Billy nods his head, and he lets Steve lead him to the car.
Now they are the Harrington house, and Billy is cross-legged on Steve’s bed, and he hasn’t said a word in hours. Steve has tried to coax something out of him. He’s told him about Max, and that she wanted him to get her at ten. He asked if he was okay after Click’s class, and if he understood The Yellow Wallpaper. He asked if Billy wanted him to turn on some music, and when Billy continued to stay silent, Steve turned on the radio and let it play. Eventually, Billy reaches to shut off the radio.
“Don’t like that song?” Steve asks, and Billy shakes his head and points to his temple. A headache, from the static, or perhaps from… “You sick, man?” Billy does not shake his head at this, but he gives no other form of answer either. “You’re gonna have to talk eventually.”
“Sorry,” Billy says, voice flat and gravelly. “I’m just tired.”
“Are you sleeping?” Steve asks. “Max said you’ve been going out at night.”
“You talked to my sister?”
“I just asked if you were okay,” Steve says. “I was worried.”
“I’m touched,” Billy says. He is leaning his back against the headboard, his head leaned back against the wall, and his eyes are closed, though Steve can tell by his breathing that Billy is very much awake.
“So?” Steve asks. When Billy doesn’t answer, Steve says, “You should sleep. Crash here for a while. I can grab Max for you.:“No,” Billy says.
“No?”
“No,” Billy repeats. “I can’t.”
“I can raid the medicine cabinet,” Steve offers. “I think my mom has something that-”
“I can’t sleep,” Billy says, “because that’s when they come.”
It takes some time for Steve to process Billy’s words. He stares at him, blinking rapidly, wondering if he even heard him correctly. Billy makes no move to backtrack or to correct his words. He sits in the spot, in the same manor, awake but unspeaking, unmoving, eyes closed and face drawn in utter exhaustion. The more Steve looks at him the more he can see the effects- the lines around Billy’s mouth, the wrinkles in the shirt he’s worn for the past three days, he dullness of his skin.
“They?” Steve finally asks. When Billy says nothing, he presses, “Who’s they?”
“Forget it,” Billy mumbles. But Steve sits across from him and he places a gentle hand on Billy’s knee. The touch makes Billy’s eyes slip open, and he blinks until he can focus on Steve’s face.
“What’s going on?” Steve asks him.
“It’s nothing,” Billy says.
“It’s not nothing,” Steve insists. “You said you can’t sleep because that’s when they come. That’s some horror movie bullshit, Hargrove. And, honestly, you look like an extra in that dumb Romero zombie shit the kids watch. So, you want to tell me what’s going on?”
“It’s nothing,” Billy repeats. “It…it’ll go away. It’s just…never been this bad.”
“What’s never been this bad?”
“It’s stupid.” Billy shrugs.
“It’s not,” Steve says. “I won’t tell anyone, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“Shut up,” Billy says.
“Come on,” Steve says. “You can tell me.”
“It’s these, like…” Billy sighs, and he stares up at the ceiling. “They’re not nightmares, really. They’re something else. My mom called it something. It’s happened ever since I was a kid.”
“Like…night terrors?”
“Sort of,” Billy says. “I see stuff. And I’m not fucking crazy, okay?”
“I didn’t say anything,” Steve says.
“It’s just,” Billy stammers. “It’s like…I’m stuck. Like, I’m awake, but I’m stuck in a dream, and I know it’s a dream, but I can’t make it stop. It feels real.”
“That’s where they come?” Steve says.
“Yeah.”
“What are they?”
“I don’t know,” Billy says. He sounds like a child, frustrated and on the verge of tears. He sighs heavily and looks back at Steve. “I’m not crazy.”
“I know,” Steve says.
“It hasn’t happened in a long time,” Billy says. “But after, uh…after Max…”
“Hit you with a sedative to stop you from killing me?” Billy opens his mouth to defend himself, or to apologize, or some combination of the two, and Steve shakes his head and waves you off. “Come on. I got over that months ago. No hard feelings. You know that.”
“Right,” Billy says. “Well, uh, after that, I just…”
“It’s been that long?”
“On and off,” Billy shrugs. “I go for drives after. Uh, to clear my head.”
“That’s where you’ve been going?” Steve asks. “When Max hears you leave?” Billy’s silence is answer enough. Steve sighs and he squeezes Billy’s thigh. “What are they?” Steve asks. “Whatever it is you see.”
“I don’t know,” Billy shrugs. “They used to be, like…these men. Tall. Big. They kind of, um…kind of looked my dad, but I couldn’t really see their faces or anything. They’re different now, though. They look different.”
“Different how?”
“They’re something else,” Billy says. “They’re not human. They’re like these weird fucking alien things. They don’t have any faces, and some of them walk on all fours, and they-”
“They what?” Billy asks. “Do they do anything to you?”
“The old ones,” Billy starts, “used to just…hold me down. But these ones…they make the whole room cold. And their heads, like…” He trails off, and he shakes his head, and his tone suddenly turns angry. “Forget it, okay? It’s just these stupid fucking dreams.”
“No,” Steve says. “No, tell me.”
“Let it go, Steve.” Steve sighs, but he hear suppressed tears in Billy’s voice and he can see the bone-weary exhaustion pulling at every inch of him. Steve rubs Billy’s leg, and he moves to Billy’s side so that he can slide an arm around Billy’s shoulders. “What if we go for a drive?” he offers. It takes a bit of convincing to get Billy to agree, but Steve’s hope for the drive prevails: within a few miles, Billy is asleep with his head against the window. Steve keeps on hand on Billy’s shoulder and when Billy lets out a distressed whine, Steve squeezes him.
“It’s okay,” Steve tells him. “You’re safe.”
And Billy seems to hear this; he even seems to believe it. He settles down, face relaxed in sleep once more, and he stays like that as Steve drives loops around the town and beyond, stays fast asleep as Steve begins to wind through neighbors, is still out cold when Steve pulls up outside of the Wheeler house.
It is nine o’clock on the dot, and when Karen Wheeler calls Max to the door, Max seems less than pleased to be summoned. The others trail up behind her to say their goodnights, all of them surprised to see Steve instead of Billy waiting to collect her. Max’s brow creases and she leans out the open doorway to see Steve’s car at the curb, Billy asleep inside.
“What the hell’s going on?” she asks.
Steve looks at each of the kids in turn before saying, “I think we have a problem.”
Just the fictions here, and likely some inspiring images, and although this is a jopper blog, it’s likely to lean toward more Hop, and that is not necessarily a bad thing.
