very deeply gay

all pronouns! mexican, sagittarius, xxii enby lesbian who gets hyper-fixated on queer literature on a regular basis

[dearest-loveliest-elizabeth]

I actually love them so much

[mina-logan]

Some art about coffee and certainly nothing else

[carnationsyouhadthoughtwereroses]

Day 9 (Cliché) - @hollanovmicrofic - 600 words

“So...Ilya Rozanov?”

Shane resists the urge to roll his eyes. There had been a lot of objectively terrible aftermath to the Fanmail incident - his team shunning him, the Internet harassing him, the Commissioner putting a target on his back - all for his choice of partner. In a way, Shane realizes, he’d spent so long catastrophizing about this exact outcome that he felt weirdly prepared for the fallout.

But what he hadn’t anticipated was the same type of scrutiny from his loved ones. The small circle of people around him who were so sorry that he was outed and swore to support him through everything - except for the Ilya Rozanov of it all.

Shane knows his fiancé has a reputation. When all was said and done, years of blurry videos of Ilya draped over women at clubs and interview clips of him chirping every player in the league whose name he could be assed to remember didn't lend itself to the best public image. But it was only Shane who paid attention to the fact that Ilya hadn't gone home with someone in years. It was only Shane who knew that Ilya now spent his drunk nights on call with his fiancé giggling about how he was going to kiss every freckle on his face the next time they saw each other.

Rose had found out alongside the rest of the world. In hindsight, Shane really does wish he'd gotten the chance to tell her on his own terms, considering there was a brief period in time where she'd unknowingly been caught up in their decade-long game of cat and mouse. But what's done is done, and now Shane's sipping wine on the couch in her posh L.A. apartment, wishing that he didn't have to defend his future husband's character for what felt like the hundredth time that week.

"I know it might not make sense to you now, but I promise once you get to know him-"

"Oh that's not what I meant," Rose cuts in with a wave of her hand, clutching her own wine glass closer as she drags her legs up onto the couch, "If you love him that much, he must be a good guy."

"Oh." Shane responds, more than a little taken aback, "Yeah, he's- he's really good to me, Rose."

"That's so sweet," she coos, "I'm really proud of you. And don't look so surprised, I know better than anyone how much the media loves to twist things."

Shane winces as he thinks back to the article he had just seen last week, claiming that her dinner out with a director friend of hers was Rose's attempt to sleep her way into a role in his upcoming film. It always angered him how people on the Internet spoke about her, even when they were together.

"So then...what's the problem with Ilya Rozanov?"

"There's no problem with him," she giggles, wobbling a bit as she leans forward, "It's just a little cliché, isn't it?"

Shane blinks down at his glass. Maybe he's had too much to drink.

Rose continues, "Like, you're pitted against this guy from the very start. Sworn enemies - all anyone can talk about is how much you hate each other. And out of allll the people in the world you could fall in love with, it ends up being him? That stuff's textbook, Hollander."

"I guess so," he says, pulling his own knees up to his chest, "Maybe they'll make a movie about us someday."

"They'll call it Stick Handlers!"

"Ok, that might be enough wine for tonight."

[lexirosewrites]

my proof of life for right now is this draft of the fic I’m working on for STMMM26 that fills 6 different prompts (1: Knotting, 14: Age Gap, 16: Rejection Sickness, 17: Pregnancy, 29: Scent Marking, 30: First Times) inspired by an old post💛

[literatiruinedme]

i'm telling you the truth

After the worst thing that could have happened almost happened, they smoke, sleep, and regroup. A follow-up to the one where Steve's in the band. ao3 || last chapter || from the beginning

Chapter 4

The expanse of the Harrington attic never ceased to amaze Eddie.

Windows lined the walls, bathing the near-empty space in natural light. Crystals that had belonged to Teresa’s mother hung in the windows, sending a kaleidoscope of colours climbing up the walls and down the length of the massive room. 

The back wall, closest to the stairs and void of any windows, housed a handful of steamer trunks and several stacks of boxes. Two dressers sat on opposite sides of the wall, covered by large swaths of pale, fraying-edged linen.

Thankfully, Steve and his family had a proclivity for labelling boxes, opposed to Eddie’s nonexistent filing systems. 

How had there been enough curtains to get a box of their own? Eddie had stopped asking questions somewhere around the third full linen closet in the hallway that Steve and his parents shared. Regardless, the tidily labelled and sorted boxes had been appreciated when Eddie found a handful of heavy cotton curtains that would fit the windows in the garage. He held the plain white fabric up to the light, nodding to himself when he could only see light behind it.

His head snapped towards the attic door at the sound of the garage door rolling open.

Eddie grabbed the box, lugging it down to the ground floor in time to watch the garage door fly open. Based on the way Steve blew in the door, not bothering to wait for the rest of the group, Eddie had a feeling things didn't go well. Immediately, he followed. “You okay?” he asked, box long forgotten in the foyer. “Harrington!”

As he raced up the stairs, Steve kept his head down. “I can’t,” he choked out, walking faster.

“Hey!” Eddie called, chasing after him. “Stevie-”

The doorknob bounced against the wall after Steve stormed into his room, Eddie hot on his heels. “I should have known something was wrong. I should have been there. God, I’m so fucking stupid.“

Eddie closed the door behind them. He turned Steve around with a hand on the shoulder, watching in horror as the first tear skidded down Steve’s cheek.

“She’s probably going to die,” he continued. “And I had my fucking head in the clouds this whole time-”

“Whoa-”

“Jesus, what’s wrong with me?” 

Eddie's brow twitched at Steve's words. His hands found Steve's wrists, guiding him back towards the door, pressing him against the woodgrain. “Harrington, what’s going on?”

“Max, she-” His shoulders loosened at the pressure of the door against his back. “She’s like-” A shaky breath left Steve’s lips. He squeezed his eyes shut, head falling back against the door with a dull thud. “We went to Forest Hills, so she could go talk to her mom, but she took forever. And then, when she came out to the car, she got really weird. Kind of shaken, even more distant-” He shook his head. “As if that’s even possible. So then we go to the cemetery-”

“What?”

“And she makes us wait down this huge ass hill, so she can read the fucking letter she wrote for Billy, but she- she-”

Eddie’s hands found his shoulders, trying to ground them as Steve spun out in front of him. “She what? What the fuck happened?”

“Nancy and Robin figured out music is the answer to breaking the curse.” He swallowed hard before taking a sharp breath. “We proved their theory right.”

“How did you-” The gutted expression on Steve’s face gave him pause. “Oh.”

Steve nodded.

“Did she-” He paused, ignoring the sting at the corners of his eyes as he turned to look at Steve.

Again, he nodded. “She was like Chrissy.” Steve swallowed, staring at the ceiling when his eyes opened. 

Her name felt like a bullet to the chest, knocking Eddie off balance. He staggered back a step, watching Steve sink to the floor, head going between his knees.

“She-” He swallowed before he licked his lips. “The letter. She was reading it, and I guess that Vecna creep got her.” He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Some nightmare version of Billy showed up, told her all of this awful shit. She didn’t really want to talk about it, but-” He bit his lip, shoulders relaxing when Eddie knelt between his spread legs. “He’s just as big of a jackass, even from beyond the grave, was kind of the gist.”

Eddie reached up, his fingers trailing through Steve’s silken hair.

“We’ll figure it out.” As he spoke, it sounded more like he was telling himself, rather than Eddie.

“We will,” Eddie echoed, squeezing Steve’s shoulders. 

Steve’s head fell between his knees. His shoulders shook as a sob raked through him. 

With a shaky breath, Eddie reached out. His hands combed through Steve's hair for a few minutes, waiting until his breathing evened somewhat before speaking again. “Man,” he said. “I’ve got to stop greeting you guys at the door.”

Slowly, Steve lifted his head. He blinked, seemingly snapped out of his stupor at Eddie’s words. “What?” he asked, quiet tears following the tracks down his cheeks.

“Yeah,” Eddie said casually. “Feel like I keep getting bad news about all things Hawkins right now.”

“Have you heard good news about this place since, like, ever?” Steve asked, sniffling. 

Eddie caught Steve's wrists when he reached up to wipe his face. 

His head cocked to one side, hair falling in his eyes as he met Eddie's gaze. “What?” he asked, a soft smile finding its way to his lips. 

Slowly, Eddie's hands wandered up, settling on Steve's cheeks.

A shaky sigh left Steve as his eyes closed. He did his best to follow Eddie's steadying breaths, pulling air in through his mouth instead of his nose between sniffles. 

“That's it,” Eddie said, keeping his voice soft as his thumbs swiped under Steve's eyes.

He reached blindly, hand settling on a box of Kleenex. “I’m okay,” Steve said quietly, shakily. He dragged the box off of the desk they'd collapsed next to, leaving it haphazardly on the floor beside them. 

“Yeah.” Eddie grabbed a tissue, softly pressing it against the tear tracks running down Steve's cheeks. “You're okay, man.”

Steve nodded. His hand shifted, settling on Eddie's knee.

“It's been a long couple days of me-” Eddie faked a cough. “Crashing on your couch. I'm sorry for putting you out like this. It must be an exhausting existence right now.”

“Dude.”

“Though, I am loving getting to hog the bed,” he said teasingly, poking Steve’s cheek. Warmth bloomed in Eddie’s chest at the small laugh that bubbled out of Steve. 

“Yeah, you're a total hog."

“Well,” Eddie said. “You hog the covers.”

Steve shrugged. “I’m a cozy gal.”

“Yeah, you sure are, sweetheart,” Eddie said, reaching up to pinch Steve's cheek. “Come on, let's get you into something comfy and we can head downstairs.”

Steve groaned, reaching up to scrub his hands over his face before nodding. “I just want things to go back to normal.”

“You’re preaching to the choir, Harrington.” Eddie clambered to his feet, staying low to the floor as he grinned like a madman when Steve pulled his hands away from his face.

Steve startled, red-rimmed eyes going wide at Eddie's gremlin-like crouch. “Jesus! Quit being such a psychopath.” Steve reached out to push Eddie away. 

They both froze when Eddie grabbed Steve's wrists.

Steve let his palms rest against Eddie's chest. He looked down at their hands before meeting Eddie's gaze once more. “Freak,” Steve said, though he almost sounded high as he said it. 

“And here I thought you were reformed, jock.”

A smile pulled at Steve's lips. 

“But if you ask me? I think you're a freak, too.” Eddie smirked when he saw Steve's teeth as he grinned. “Yeah, you like that?”

“Whatever,” Steve chuckled. Finally, he pushed his palms against Eddie's chest.

They both laughed when Eddie tumbled onto his ass.

Steve sighed after they settled down, scrubbing his hands over his face before resting his forehead on his knees. “I think I want to shower.”

“You feel dirty?” Eddie asked, voice breathy and ditzy.

“Shut up.”

“How about-” Eddie reached into his breast pocket of his battle vest, pulling out a pack of cigarettes as Steve's head rose.

“No,” Steve said quickly, resolutely. 

“Come on,” he all but begged, holding up a packet of gold Marlboros. “Five minutes on the roof.”

Steve fought back a smile as he shook his head. “Ed-”

“No way. You owe me.”

His brows furrowed, a small smile pulling at his lips. “I feel like the whole harbouring a fugitive thing kind of covers anything I owe you,” Steve said, even as he let Eddie pull him to his feet. “Especially since, you know, you're the fugitive, and I'm the harbourer here.”

“Oh, really?” Eddie rested his hands on either side of Steve's head, caging him in against the door. “And here I thought Jason was just in a fit of murderous lust for me,” he said. He couldn't help but smile when Steve rolled his eyes fondly. He held the packet out again, smiling in a way he knew Steve couldn't resist. “Just five minutes.” 

Steve's gaze flicked down to the carton between them. 

Golds were his weakness. 

A sharp sigh escaped him as he glanced up at Eddie again. “Robin’s going to be pissed at me.” He ducked out from between Eddie and the door, walking towards the window. He threw the window open, stepping out onto the roof. After planting his feet on the shingles, he reached back, grabbing a lighter from the windowsill before he disappeared completely. “Five minutes,” he called, prompting Eddie into action.

He pressed play on the cassette jammed into the stereo sitting on Steve’s dresser, humming along when it started playing a slower Janis Joplin song. Tucking the cigarettes away in his breast pocket, Eddie placed a filter between his lips before stepping out into fresh air. He closed the windoe halfway before inching closer to Steve. When he finally and carefully planted himself on a patch of shingles, he turned towards Steve, waiting for the lighter.

Steve raised a brow, fighting the small smirk on his lips. “Eager.” He held up a silver Zippo without further preamble, sparking it. 

Eddie smiled around the filter, inhaling deeply, drawing in the flame of Steve's lighter as he maintained eye contact. He pulled away once the cigarette was well and truly lit, knowing he waited longer than he had to, really. Looking on, he took in the trees blocking sight of the rest of town, blanketing the area surrounding Steve’s home like a fortress.

Steve made a soft little whine after Eddie took a few hits, lifting his chin when they made eye contact.

“Yeah? You want it?”

Steve nodded.

With a small smile, his hand pressed to Steve's face, holding the filter steady. Thumb hooked under Steve's ear, his fingers splayed along Steve's jaw. As Steve puffed on the cigarette, he seemingly paid no mind to Eddie's fingers pressing against his lips. 

The last vestiges of winter drew a shiver from Steve as the sun sank low behind the treeline.

“You want my jacket?”

Steve made a noise, pulling away with a shake of his head before exhaling. “I'll be okay,” he said softly. His eyes closed as the last rays of light painted over his face. “Thanks by the way.”

Eddie inhaled sharply after pulling the cigarette from his lips. “For what?” he asked, exhaling. His fingers brushed against Steve’s lips when he offered the cigarette again. 

“I know I’m objectively just a spectator in all of this and have no right to be freaking out.” He shrugged, dragging his thumb along the seam of his jeans as he puffed on their shared cigarette. “Thanks for staying with me.”

“I’d follow you anywhere,” Eddie promised, nudging Steve’s shoulder with his own. He plucked the filter from Steve’s lips, closing his eyes as he breathed in deeply. “You know that, man. On stage- or on the battlefield, I guess. Wherever, anywhere.”

“Yeah, I know,” Steve said. After a moment of quiet, his head rested on Eddie’s shoulder. “I love you, man.”

A smile found its way to Eddie's lips as he shifted, wrapping an arm around Steve’s shoulders. “I love you, too.”

They stayed outside as the sun set, burning through two more cigarettes and decidedly more than five minutes. 

Both of their heads turned when Robin’s voice called out from the window. “There you dufuses are! I've been knocking for the last five minutes,” she said as she stepped out onto the roof.

“Hey, careful,” Steve chided as she ran over.

“God,” she scoffed, taking a seat next to Eddie. “I thought you were making out. This is much worse.”

“What is?” Steve laughed. 

“Smoking.” She held out two fingers as if there were a cigarette between them, miming taking a drag before making a disgusted face. “It’s totally gross!”

“Yeah,” Steve said, leaning back against the roof. Silently, he folded his hands in his lap. “Not too scared of what it'll do to me when we're already cheating death.”

Robin looked at Eddie with a raised brow before leaning over him to shove Steve's shoulder. “What are you? Fourteen?” 

“Hey, careful!”

“So much angst, my god.”

Steve looked up at Eddie with an exaggerated frown. “She’s so mean to me.”

“And you!” She jabbed her finger into Eddie’s shoulder, pulling his attention away from Steve. “Why are you letting Holden Caulfield suck the air out of the roof- off of the roof-” She squinted, waving her hands between them. “You know what I mean.”

“I know what you mean,” Eddie said, nodding in confirmation.

“Rude,” Steve mumbled with a roll of his eyes.

Eddie nudged him, earning a small smile before he turned to Robin.

“You guys make any progress?”

She nodded, wrapping her arms around her knees. “I think they're nearly there. Just wanted to make sure you were okay. I heard the door.”

“Shit.” Steve sat up quickly, turning towards Eddie and Robin. His hand landed on Eddie’s thigh, steadying himself. “Max- I mean, did she-”

“No,” Robin soothed, reaching over Eddie’s lap to rest her hand on Steve’s wrist. “She had her headphones in. You're fine.”

“Thank god,” he breathed, shoulders relaxing.

With a nod of her head, Robin hummed in agreement. “But you’re okay?”

Steve nodded. 

“Blink twice if you're lying.”

“Robin.”

“Just making sure.” She reached forward, poking him on the forehead before turning to Eddie. “What about you?”

Eddie shrugged. “Best I can be.”

“You know, I'll take it.” Robin waved Steve closer, kissing him on the forehead before doing the same to Eddie. “Later, losers." She stood, disappearing as quickly as she'd arrived. “Oh!” she called from inside before her head popped out the window again. “So, what's the deal with dinner? Am I sous chefing it up, or you have plans of  blowing through a lot of tater tots tonight?”

Steve sighed, pressing his fingertips against his closed eyes. “Give me twenty?”

“See you down there, Chef.”

“Go away.”

“Yes, Chef.” She waved, winking at them before she was gone again. “Goodbye, Chef!” she called from inside.

“Bye,” Steve said softly, not bothering to put in the effort of raising his voice. Steve glanced over at him, holding eye contact long enough that Eddie forgot to breathe. Suddenly, he leaned forward, nudging his forehead against Eddie's shoulder like a cat, breaking the spell they were under. 

“Come on, freak,” Eddie teased, rifling Steve's hair before pushing to his feet. He offered a hand, wiggling his fingers when Steve hesitated. “Up.”

Steve finally reached out, taking Eddie's hand. Their hands parted when they were both standing, Steve following Eddie inside.

A few minutes later, Eddie found himself lying back on Steve's mattress, staring up at the ceiling as he listened to the shower turn on. Some jazzy pop tune found its way onto the radio Steve kept in the bathroom, the steady thump of the kick drum pulling Eddie in. He couldn't help but smile, eyes slipping closed as he let out a breath at the sound of Steve's voice creeping in through the ajar door, repeating simple lyrics about how this is the day between harmonica solos. 

“Time?” Steve called out during a moment of quiet. The opening riff of The Killing Moon quickly filled the bathroom with noise again.

Eddie brought his arm up over his head, reading the time on the clockface to himself. “It’s only been like three minutes, Michael.”

“Right, okay,” Steve said quietly. He spoke up when he continued. “Can you tell me when it's been five minutes?”

“From now?”

Steve hesitated for a moment. “Yes,” he said slowly. 

“Dude, they're not timing you to the second.”

“I know that.”

“You're fine.”

“Yeah,” Steve said, unsure. 

“You're fine.”

After a moment of quiet, Steve spoke again. “Yeah?”

“Hundred percent, man.”

“Okay.”

“I've got you,” Eddie said. “Relax a little. Take your five minutes.”

Steve snorted. “Yeah, ‘cause that went so well last time.”

“I'm watching the clock.”

“Whatever, man.”

“I mean, maybe I'll stop watching if you keep using that tone.”

“Well,” Steve said confidentially. “They’ll wait.”

Eddie couldn't help but grin, tucking his arms under his head. “That's my man.”

Steve hummed before going quiet.

Quickly growing bored, Eddie got off of the bed, walking over the rifle through Steve's drawers. He picked over the selection of shirts and sweaters, grabbing something for him and Steve. The water turned off as Eddie sorted through pants.

Clad in only a pair of boxer shorts, Steve wandered out of the bathroom just as Eddie finished changing. “Hey, so-” He caught the green sweater and dark gray sweats flung at him with ease before continuing. “What?”

“That was less than five minutes,” Eddie said before sticking his tongue out antagonistically.

Steve shrugged, water dripping from the ends of his hair. “I’m speedy.”

“That's not what I‘ve heard.”

Steve's eyes narrowed before he started pulling on the clothes Eddie gave him. He wandered back into the bathroom, dragging the towel over his hair as he looked in the mirror. “Do you think Robin’s mad?” he asked after a breath.

“What? Why would she be mad?”

“I told you about our pact?”

Eddie chuckled, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “No,” he said, watching Steve in the mirror. “What’s your pact?”

“No smoking.”

With furrowed brows, Eddie nodded. “Right,” he said slowly.

“Because of that girl-”

Eddie racked his brain, thinking back on the last time Robin and Steve had been squabbling about a girl. “Veronica?”

“Vickie.”

“Right.” Eddie nodded along, occasionally catching Steve's gaze in the mirror.

“So, like, I guess she's a candy striper once a week or something.” He hung the towel on the back of the door before pulling a comb from behind the mirror. “And now Robin’s trying to quit-”

“She barely smokes.”

“That’s what I said, but what do I know?” Steve shrugged, gaze pinned to the reflection of his hair. “But,” he continued. “You know how she gets. She goes on a kick about how she drinks too much coffee, like, once a month- and her brain’s Jell-O around hot girls, so of course she got talked into thinking she has a problem.”

“And by association-”

“I get pulled into her new resolution to give up smoking.”

Eddie hummed in understanding. “How did I miss this?”

“She made an executive decision, like, last week or something.”

“You smoked with me on Monday and Thursday.”

Steve shushed him, fighting a smile. “I had time to shower and brush my teeth. She never needs to know.”

Eddie couldn't help but smirk. “Okay, but you can't pit the girls against each other.”

A smile found its way to Steve's lips as his gaze fell to the sink.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he said softly. He made quick work of the rest of his hair, joining Eddie in the bedroom a few minutes later. “Time?”

Eddie glanced down at his watch. “Five minutes to spare.”

He nodded, sitting down next to Eddie. “My face looks okay? Like, I don't look like I was crying?”

Perfect, Eddie found himself thinking. He reached out, brushing a lock of hair away from Steve's eyes before nodding. “Yeah,” he breathed, forcing a smile. “You look okay.”

“Okay.” Steve nodded, glancing down at Eddie's chin before ducking away. “Ready?”

“Yeah.” Without another word, he followed Steve down the hallway and into the noisy kitchen.

They’d finished off more than half a dozen frozen pizzas by the time everyone had finally settled in the basement. Dustin and Lucas were still amped, rambling about everything and nothing while Max sat, fiddling with her walkman.

Steve watched, arms crossed over his chest where he sat on the couch. His head slowly tipped forward before he raised it, breathing in sharply. He blinked rapidly, staring ahead.

“You okay?”

He nodded, taking a few breaths before speaking again. “I'm cool.”

Eddie hummed in acknowledgement, openly watching as Steve's head slowly bobbed forward again. “Yeah, okay.”

Steve sat up quickly, palms pressing against the couch to ground himself as he scanned the living room before easing back against the cushions. After blinking slowly, he glanced over at Eddie, a dopey smile on his lips.

“Hey, Stevie?”

“Yeah?”

“You alright?”

“Yeah.” He nodded, blinking slowly. “Tired.”

“You think you may want to go to bed soon?”

Steve nodded, glancing down at his watch for the time. “Yeah-” He yawned. “Maybe in like an hour or two. Besides, everyone might want to sleep in shifts to keep watch.”

“I don’t know,” Eddie said. “I think you deserve a free pass. The gremlins didn't pull a sixty-hour work week before monster hunting.”

Steve huffed, waving Eddie off. “It was only like fifty-something.”

“Plus practice.”

Steve yawned, nodding Eddie along. 

“And chauffeuring those same little punks around-” 

Steve frowned. “Yeah, but you do that, too, dude.” 

“Okay, but I also kept you out late, like, every day this week. Do you not remember your little nap before you left Thursday night, man?”

“I'll be fine. Promise.”

“Steve, we're literally in your house. They can't be safer than that.”

“Now, hold on-”

“Cut it. She's your fucking house, Stevie. Cunt Harrington hasn't-”

“Hey,” Steve chuckled. “You promised me you weren't going to call him that-”

“Exceptions must be made! Let me finish, Charlotte!”

“What?”

“Like the bitch who makes webs, keep up. Okay, so-”

“Weirdo.”

“I'll literally bite you. Let me finish!” Eddie laughed, playfully pounding his fists against Steve's shoulder.

“Okay, okay!” Steve laughed, shoving Eddie's hands away. Their fingers intertwined absentmindedly before falling to Steve's lap. “What do you have to say about Richard?”

“Thank you, Charlotte. As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted-” He shoved Steve again with his free hand, smiling when Steve stuck his tongue out. “Dick hasn't even been to Indiana in over a year. And then, like, last month he had that guy-”

“The notary?”

“The notary! He just shows up randomly with updated paperwork and asks you to sign? I mean, did you read the whole thing yet?”

“I've been busy.” Steve shrugged. “They wouldn't send something if it wasn't important. The notary said it was about adding me to the lease or something.”

Eddie blinked. “Baby, she's yours. You weren't just added to the lease or something. You're the owner. I powered through it twice yesterday-”

“You read it?” Steve asked, brows furrowed as his arms crossed over his chest. 

“With all my time in the world? Yeah. I just got bored and it's been sitting in the study, so I figured-” He shrugged. “Listen, I wasn't about to stop you, but I wanted to know what you signed. Like, we talked about this as a band, man- no contract until we all talk.”

“Yeah, but the band is different-”

“Exactly, dude. You were halfway through cooking for eight or nine people and we had, like, friend-family dinner in thirty minutes when he got here. I had to physically push you away from the cutting board, if you care to remember.”

Steve didn't say anything for a moment. “Why didn't you read before I signed?”

“Not my place. Plus, as much as I just adore dear old Dick-”

“The call on New Year's was an exception. That was totally rare form for him.”

“I know. He said your mother was busy as ever-”

“Doesn’t excuse much. She’s always busy.”

“Teresa Harrington? Busy?” Eddie gasped dramatically. “No way, no how.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Yeah, she’s just swimming in freetime.”

“At least she tries.”

After a breath, Steve nodded. “Yeah,” he said softly. “She does.”

“Timezones and all!” Eddie smiled when Steve’s frown broke. “Anyway, I’m just, like, getting at the fact that, at the end of the day, you trust them, and that's worth enough in my eyes.” 

Steve's expression softened at his words.

Eddie swallowed down the fluttering feeling in his throat before continuing. “As much as I don’t love Richard, he wants to take care of you, man. Both of them do, and I'm not going to step in the way of that.” His free hand found an errant curl climbing over Steve’s ear, twirling it between his fingers as he continued. “I think it's the only thing we agree on, really.”

“Never thought I'd see the day.”

“Yeah, me neither.” Eddie sighed, letting go of his hair when Steve yawned again. “Alright, grandpa, it's time for bed.”

Steve waved him off, not bothering to open his eyes. 

Robin sat down beside Steve, smiling when he rested his head on her shoulder. “He’s crashing?” Robin asked.

Eddie nodded. “Oh, yeah.”

She hummed, resting her cheek on his head. “Hey, dingus.”

Steve groaned in response. “Plan?” he asked, eyes closed.

She laughed, looking over at Eddie. “Okay, so, the plan was taking shifts to watch over Max, but I think you may not survive the night without some shuteye.”

Eddie frowned, looking over at Steve. “I’d definitely be helpful, but-”

“Oh, yeah.” Robin shook her head. “He’s done tonight.”

Steve groaned.

“Go to sleep.”

“No,” he whined, wrapping his arms around Robin’s waist as his cheek pressed against her shoulder.

Eddie bit his lip to hold back a laugh. “We can sleep down here,” he started. “But I want you to really contemplate that one because Dustin never shuts the fuck up -or we can go upstairs.”

“Fuck.” With a heavy sigh, Steve nodded, burying his face in Robin’s neck. “Yeah? Okay. Let’s go upstairs. Do they need-”

“Nance and I’ll take care of them,” Robin said. “Go.”

Steve held out a hand to Eddie, letting himself be pulled to his feet. After saying goodnight to everyone, Steve followed.

Silently, Eddie led them up to the stairs, his fingers lacing through Steve’s as they walked. When they finally made it to the quiet confines of Steve's bedroom, he closed the door behind them, taking a seat on the edge of the mattress.

With a tired sigh, Steve’s head fell to Eddie’s shoulder. He reached out, pulling their hands into his lap.

“Hey,” Eddie said softly. “We’re going to figure this out.”

Steve let out a breath, nodding. “I know.”

Eddie wrapped his hands around his shoulders, pulling Steve in so he ould kiss his forehead. “Come on, let’s go to sleep.”

After pulling back the covers, Steve let Eddie coax him closer to the pillows. By the time Steve laid back on the mattress, he was already out for the night.

Eddie closed his eyes, focusing on the sound of Steve’s breathing as leaves rustled through the ajar window.

When he opened his eyes again, Chrissy stared back at him from the ceiling with unseeing eyes.

The grandfather clock downstairs chimed, each pang of the hour sending splitting pain through his head.

Eddie woke with a gasp, sitting up quickly, despite his entanglement with Steve. He wiped his hands over his face, the sleeves of Steve’s black henly drying any sweat on his cheeks and forehead. He dragged the sleeve over his mouth and nose.

With a noise of discontentment, Steve rolled over, pulling the blanket with him. Pale blue light crawled in through the window, illuminating his bare back.

The clock on Steve’s bedside stared back at Eddie, telling him nearly six hours had passed since he remembered closing his eyes. He stared at the pattern peaking through the maroon paint of Steve’s walls until his eyes felt dry. He finally stood. After grabbing a pair of pyjama pants from the floor, he shuffled downstairs, stopping when he saw Max sitting at the kitchen table, the sky just turning pink through the windows overlooking the backyard behind her. 

Sheets of paper, crayons, and coloured pencils littered the space around her. She had forgone her Walkman for the radio, the nonstop tape of Running Up That Hill playing from end to end. She flipped the tape with a heavy-sounding clunk as he entered the kitchen.

Without a word, Eddie walked over to the cabinets, pulling a glass down before heading to the fridge. He unscrewed the top of the bottle. “How’re you doing, Red?” he asked, setting a glass beside her.

“Couldn’t sleep.” She shrugged, taking a sip from her orange juice. “Everyone was really into you and Steve’s passion for music. They kept shoving the Kate Bush in my ears all night.”

Eddie shrugged, glancing down at the drawings in front of her. “What can I say?” A white border framed each image, red hastily covering the background. “We’re revolutionaries.”

She hummed in acknowledgement, looking down at the paper she had covered in pigment. “Oh yeah. Rockstars, if I’ve ever seen them.”

“Gross. More like Metal Gods, I’d hope.”

Her nose crinkled in disgust. “Now you’re being gross.”

Eddie smiled, turning back to the kitchen. “Waffles or pancakes?” he asked, making quick work of gathering supplies. 

Max shook her head, eyes glued to the paper as she dragged her crayon along it. “Eggs.”

“You know,” he started, reaching for the cardboard carton sitting in the fridge. “I think you may be onto something.”

She smiled when he glanced back at her. “Any thoughts on bacon?”

“Oh, hell yeah.” He pulled out a large flat pan, turning on the flame before greasing it with butter. “How's our gal treating you?” he asked, cracking a few eggs into a bowl before going at them with a fork. 

“Fine.” Max shrugged, looking out the window at the slow-rising sun. She fiddled with the volume on the radio before speaking again, softer than before “Just wish the circumstances were better.”

Eddie hummed in understanding, glancing between her and the flat top. “Me too, man.”

Around the time Eddie turned off the flame on the flattop, commotion sounded downstairs.

Max looked at him, mouth opening to speak just before the basement door at the edge of the room flew open.

Nancy burst forth, Dustin and Lucas following quickly, all relaxing at the sight of Max at the kitchen table. Her brows furrowed before she turned to Eddie. “How did you-”

He rolled his eyes, looking back towards the stove. “She's been up all night.”

Nancy nodded, a tight smile finding her lips. “Right.”

A moment passed before Steve appeared in the threshold of the kitchen, dressed in the sweats Eddie had left on the bedroom floor, squeezing by for the mug of coffee Eddie had set out for him. He leaned back against the counter beside Eddie, rubbing his eye with his palm.

“I offered to stay up,” Eddie said.

Steve nodded, tucking himself into Eddie’s side. “Henderson is a shitty lookout.” Sluggishly, he sipped his coffee.

“Hey!”

“Plus,” Eddie continued, offering a sharp smile. “The horrifying nightmares don't offer much in the way of a restful night’s sleep.”

Steve took another long sip before trying to wander by. He froze when Eddie's hand came to rest on his chest. 

Eddie grabbed a plate piled high with eggs, a few strips of bacon, and a buttered English muffin, forcing the plate into Steve’s hands without any further preamble. “Sit.”

“But-”

“Sit,” he said sternly, pointing to the table. “We're not having a repeat of the April show. You remember that one?”

“I forgot to eat one time-”

“So, don’t forget today.”

Steve sighed heavily, finding a seat next to Max. “Fine.” Slowly, his fork froze as his head cocked to the side. He reached out, sliding one of the papers Max had drawn on closer to him. “Is that what you saw last night?” 

“I mean,” Max said, looking away from the pages. “It’s supposed to be. I thought it would be easier to draw it out.”

“Yeah, that looks like it would be impossible to explain.” Eddie looked on from over Steve’s shoulder, taking in the red and black hues filling the page. A caricature somewhere between The Scream and Chrissy looked up at him. “Is that-” He paused, unable to finish his thought.

She nodded, looking down at the fragmented sketche of another person beside Chrissy. “It looked like they were-” She paused, thinking. “On display.” Her head cocked to the side. “There was this- this red fog everywhere and the ground looked like it was covered in blood or something.”

“Sounds like a nightmare,” Steve said, his voice soft. 

“Do you think Vecna’s trying to scare you?” Nancy asked, drawing Eddie’s gaze across the table. 

“Definitely,” Max said. “Everything with Billy-” She nodded. “Totally. But here?” She tapped on the drawing, shaking her head back and forth. “I don’t think I was supposed to be here. He almost looked surprised. Like, he didn’t want me there or something.”

Dustin straightened in his seat, interest piqued. “Maybe you infiltrated his mind,” he said. “He invaded your mind, right? Is it that much of a leap to think you somehow wound up in his?”

Eddie’s brows furrowed. “Like Freddy Krueger’s boiler room?” 

“Oh my god,” Steve groaned, tipping his head back. “Enough with the slashers already.”

He rolled his eyes. “Just because I appreciate quality cinema-”

“So, you think she unlocked a door into his mind?” Steve interrupted, turning to Dustin.

“Close.” Dustin grinned back at Steve. “I think she unlocked a door into his world.”

“What does that mean?” Eddie asked.

Steve nodded in agreement.

Dustin picked up one of the pages, studying it. “It means that maybe there’s some answer to all this in these incredibly vague drawings.” He frowned, glancing at the pages surrounding them. “God, we need Will.”

“Yeah, no shit.” Max rolled her eyes. “I tried them again this morning, and it’s the busy signal.”

Eddie’s brows furrowed.

“Weird,” Robin mumbled, picking her head off the table. “I tried a couple of times last night.” She continued when Nancy straightened in her seat. “Couldn’t get through to them.”

Steve looked down at the paper between him and Max. “Is that the window from the place out on Morehead?” Steve asked before taking a bite of his bacon. His head cocked to the side when he noticed Dustin staring at him. “What? I get around.”

“That’s what the girls say,” Robin teased.

“Christ,” Steve grumbled, rolling his eyes. He leaned forward, picking at his plate. 

“So,” Eddie said, slowly. “What’s next?”

“Snooping,” Steve mumbled before shoving more eggs in his mouth.

“We're not snooping, we're gathering information,” Nancy said, smiling to match the syrupy sweet tone she used. 

He laughed dryly. “Right.” 

The rest of breakfast passed in a blur, Nancy, Lucas, and Dustin rambling as Steve kept an anxious yet watchful eye over Max.

After they finished clearing the table, Eddie reached out, his hand finding Steve’s shoulder. 

Easily, Steve leaned into his touch.

“With me.”

After a breath, Steve nodded, following closely. He stayed quiet as they ascended the stairs, stalling at the edge of the hallway just outside of his door. “You’ll be okay?” He asked suddenly. He cleared his throat, not quite meeting Eddie’s gaze before continuing. “While we’re gone, I mean.” 

Eddie nodded. “I’ll be alright.”

“Right,” Steve said.

When he didn’t move, Eddie reached out, wrapping his arms around Steve. “I’ll be okay,” he promised, thumb swiping over Steve’s shoulder.  “Go.” His lips brushed along Steve’s temple as he shifted to whisper in his ear. “Help them solve the case, Fletcher.”

With a chuckle, Steve pushed away, smiling. “Stop it.” 

“You and Nancy Drew will figure it out.”

“Yeah,” Steve snorted. “That’s not including Batman, Robin-”

“Hey, hey,” Eddie said. “I would be lying if I said the cards weren’t stacked against us, but let’s not count our shortcomings just yet, okay?”

A moment of quiet passed as they held each other's gaze. “Yeah,” Steve said, looking down at their socks. 

When the black fabric covering Steve’s feet brushed against his, Eddie realized the white socks he was wearing didn’t belong to him. “Be careful,” Eddie said. He closed his eyes, letting his head fall to Steve’s shoulder. “Promise me?” he begged, desperately trying to clear the images of Chrissy’s final moments from his mind.

Steve’s arms wrapped around Eddie’s waist, easing the tension from his frame. “We’re just walking around an old, empty house. I’m more worried about stepping on a rusty nail or loose floorboard than anything else.”

He smiled, tightening his hold for a breath. “Careful of spiders.” Eddie reached up, trailing his fingers through Steve’s hair. “They’ll get lost and burrow in here. You won’t find them until the eggs hatch and-”

“Jesus,” Steve whined, pushing Eddie back by a hand against his chest. “Don’t be creepy!” 

Eddie smiled, ruffling his hair as he followed Steve into the bedroom. He laughed when Steve batted his hands away angrily, storming off to change.

The hours passed slowly after everyone left to investigate the Creel house.

As the grandfather clock in the living room ticked, Eddie wandered the house like a ghost, unsure where to settle.

Unable to settle, truly.

The afternoon sun had just come to its peak when Eddie poured himself a bowl of cereal, too tired to bother cooking or reheating anything.

He longed to crawl back into bed.

Wished to close his eyes for restful, peaceful sleep, and not open them until everything was back to normal.

Normal.

With a shaky breath, Eddie put the milk back in the fridge. He sat down at the counter, swirling his spoon in the sweetened liquid as he watched his Frosted Flakes go soggy. After what felt like hours, he raised a bite to his mouth. 

The spoon in Eddie’s hand clattered to the counter when the doorbell rang.

Read it on ao3.

[literatiruinedme]

i'm telling you the truth

After the worst thing that could have happened almost happened, they smoke, sleep, and regroup. A follow-up to the one where Steve's in the band. ao3 || last chapter || from the beginning

Chapter 4

The expanse of the Harrington attic never ceased to amaze Eddie.

Windows lined the walls, bathing the near-empty space in natural light. Crystals that had belonged to Teresa’s mother hung in the windows, sending a kaleidoscope of colours climbing up the walls and down the length of the massive room. 

The back wall, closest to the stairs and void of any windows, housed a handful of steamer trunks and several stacks of boxes. Two dressers sat on opposite sides of the wall, covered by large swaths of pale, fraying-edged linen.

Thankfully, Steve and his family had a proclivity for labelling boxes, opposed to Eddie’s nonexistent filing systems. 

How had there been enough curtains to get a box of their own? Eddie had stopped asking questions somewhere around the third full linen closet in the hallway that Steve and his parents shared. Regardless, the tidily labelled and sorted boxes had been appreciated when Eddie found a handful of heavy cotton curtains that would fit the windows in the garage. He held the plain white fabric up to the light, nodding to himself when he could only see light behind it.

His head snapped towards the attic door at the sound of the garage door rolling open.

Eddie grabbed the box, lugging it down to the ground floor in time to watch the garage door fly open. Based on the way Steve blew in the door, not bothering to wait for the rest of the group, Eddie had a feeling things didn't go well. Immediately, he followed. “You okay?” he asked, box long forgotten in the foyer. “Harrington!”

As he raced up the stairs, Steve kept his head down. “I can’t,” he choked out, walking faster.

“Hey!” Eddie called, chasing after him. “Stevie-”

The doorknob bounced against the wall after Steve stormed into his room, Eddie hot on his heels. “I should have known something was wrong. I should have been there. God, I’m so fucking stupid.“

Eddie closed the door behind them. He turned Steve around with a hand on the shoulder, watching in horror as the first tear skidded down Steve’s cheek.

“She’s probably going to die,” he continued. “And I had my fucking head in the clouds this whole time-”

“Whoa-”

“Jesus, what’s wrong with me?” 

Eddie's brow twitched at Steve's words. His hands found Steve's wrists, guiding him back towards the door, pressing him against the woodgrain. “Harrington, what’s going on?”

“Max, she-” His shoulders loosened at the pressure of the door against his back. “She’s like-” A shaky breath left Steve’s lips. He squeezed his eyes shut, head falling back against the door with a dull thud. “We went to Forest Hills, so she could go talk to her mom, but she took forever. And then, when she came out to the car, she got really weird. Kind of shaken, even more distant-” He shook his head. “As if that’s even possible. So then we go to the cemetery-”

“What?”

“And she makes us wait down this huge ass hill, so she can read the fucking letter she wrote for Billy, but she- she-”

Eddie’s hands found his shoulders, trying to ground them as Steve spun out in front of him. “She what? What the fuck happened?”

“Nancy and Robin figured out music is the answer to breaking the curse.” He swallowed hard before taking a sharp breath. “We proved their theory right.”

“How did you-” The gutted expression on Steve’s face gave him pause. “Oh.”

Steve nodded.

“Did she-” He paused, ignoring the sting at the corners of his eyes as he turned to look at Steve.

Again, he nodded. “She was like Chrissy.” Steve swallowed, staring at the ceiling when his eyes opened. 

Her name felt like a bullet to the chest, knocking Eddie off balance. He staggered back a step, watching Steve sink to the floor, head going between his knees.

“She-” He swallowed before he licked his lips. “The letter. She was reading it, and I guess that Vecna creep got her.” He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Some nightmare version of Billy showed up, told her all of this awful shit. She didn’t really want to talk about it, but-” He bit his lip, shoulders relaxing when Eddie knelt between his spread legs. “He’s just as big of a jackass, even from beyond the grave, was kind of the gist.”

Eddie reached up, his fingers trailing through Steve’s silken hair.

“We’ll figure it out.” As he spoke, it sounded more like he was telling himself, rather than Eddie.

“We will,” Eddie echoed, squeezing Steve’s shoulders. 

Steve’s head fell between his knees. His shoulders shook as a sob raked through him. 

With a shaky breath, Eddie reached out. His hands combed through Steve's hair for a few minutes, waiting until his breathing evened somewhat before speaking again. “Man,” he said. “I’ve got to stop greeting you guys at the door.”

Slowly, Steve lifted his head. He blinked, seemingly snapped out of his stupor at Eddie’s words. “What?” he asked, quiet tears following the tracks down his cheeks.

“Yeah,” Eddie said casually. “Feel like I keep getting bad news about all things Hawkins right now.”

“Have you heard good news about this place since, like, ever?” Steve asked, sniffling. 

Eddie caught Steve's wrists when he reached up to wipe his face. 

His head cocked to one side, hair falling in his eyes as he met Eddie's gaze. “What?” he asked, a soft smile finding its way to his lips. 

Slowly, Eddie's hands wandered up, settling on Steve's cheeks.

A shaky sigh left Steve as his eyes closed. He did his best to follow Eddie's steadying breaths, pulling air in through his mouth instead of his nose between sniffles. 

“That's it,” Eddie said, keeping his voice soft as his thumbs swiped under Steve's eyes.

He reached blindly, hand settling on a box of Kleenex. “I’m okay,” Steve said quietly, shakily. He dragged the box off of the desk they'd collapsed next to, leaving it haphazardly on the floor beside them. 

“Yeah.” Eddie grabbed a tissue, softly pressing it against the tear tracks running down Steve's cheeks. “You're okay, man.”

Steve nodded. His hand shifted, settling on Eddie's knee.

“It's been a long couple days of me-” Eddie faked a cough. “Crashing on your couch. I'm sorry for putting you out like this. It must be an exhausting existence right now.”

“Dude.”

“Though, I am loving getting to hog the bed,” he said teasingly, poking Steve’s cheek. Warmth bloomed in Eddie’s chest at the small laugh that bubbled out of Steve. 

“Yeah, you're a total hog."

“Well,” Eddie said. “You hog the covers.”

Steve shrugged. “I’m a cozy gal.”

“Yeah, you sure are, sweetheart,” Eddie said, reaching up to pinch Steve's cheek. “Come on, let's get you into something comfy and we can head downstairs.”

Steve groaned, reaching up to scrub his hands over his face before nodding. “I just want things to go back to normal.”

“You’re preaching to the choir, Harrington.” Eddie clambered to his feet, staying low to the floor as he grinned like a madman when Steve pulled his hands away from his face.

Steve startled, red-rimmed eyes going wide at Eddie's gremlin-like crouch. “Jesus! Quit being such a psychopath.” Steve reached out to push Eddie away. 

They both froze when Eddie grabbed Steve's wrists.

Steve let his palms rest against Eddie's chest. He looked down at their hands before meeting Eddie's gaze once more. “Freak,” Steve said, though he almost sounded high as he said it. 

“And here I thought you were reformed, jock.”

A smile pulled at Steve's lips. 

“But if you ask me? I think you're a freak, too.” Eddie smirked when he saw Steve's teeth as he grinned. “Yeah, you like that?”

“Whatever,” Steve chuckled. Finally, he pushed his palms against Eddie's chest.

They both laughed when Eddie tumbled onto his ass.

Steve sighed after they settled down, scrubbing his hands over his face before resting his forehead on his knees. “I think I want to shower.”

“You feel dirty?” Eddie asked, voice breathy and ditzy.

“Shut up.”

“How about-” Eddie reached into his breast pocket of his battle vest, pulling out a pack of cigarettes as Steve's head rose.

“No,” Steve said quickly, resolutely. 

“Come on,” he all but begged, holding up a packet of gold Marlboros. “Five minutes on the roof.”

Steve fought back a smile as he shook his head. “Ed-”

“No way. You owe me.”

His brows furrowed, a small smile pulling at his lips. “I feel like the whole harbouring a fugitive thing kind of covers anything I owe you,” Steve said, even as he let Eddie pull him to his feet. “Especially since, you know, you're the fugitive, and I'm the harbourer here.”

“Oh, really?” Eddie rested his hands on either side of Steve's head, caging him in against the door. “And here I thought Jason was just in a fit of murderous lust for me,” he said. He couldn't help but smile when Steve rolled his eyes fondly. He held the packet out again, smiling in a way he knew Steve couldn't resist. “Just five minutes.” 

Steve's gaze flicked down to the carton between them. 

Golds were his weakness. 

A sharp sigh escaped him as he glanced up at Eddie again. “Robin’s going to be pissed at me.” He ducked out from between Eddie and the door, walking towards the window. He threw the window open, stepping out onto the roof. After planting his feet on the shingles, he reached back, grabbing a lighter from the windowsill before he disappeared completely. “Five minutes,” he called, prompting Eddie into action.

He pressed play on the cassette jammed into the stereo sitting on Steve’s dresser, humming along when it started playing a slower Janis Joplin song. Tucking the cigarettes away in his breast pocket, Eddie placed a filter between his lips before stepping out into fresh air. He closed the windoe halfway before inching closer to Steve. When he finally and carefully planted himself on a patch of shingles, he turned towards Steve, waiting for the lighter.

Steve raised a brow, fighting the small smirk on his lips. “Eager.” He held up a silver Zippo without further preamble, sparking it. 

Eddie smiled around the filter, inhaling deeply, drawing in the flame of Steve's lighter as he maintained eye contact. He pulled away once the cigarette was well and truly lit, knowing he waited longer than he had to, really. Looking on, he took in the trees blocking sight of the rest of town, blanketing the area surrounding Steve’s home like a fortress.

Steve made a soft little whine after Eddie took a few hits, lifting his chin when they made eye contact.

“Yeah? You want it?”

Steve nodded.

With a small smile, his hand pressed to Steve's face, holding the filter steady. Thumb hooked under Steve's ear, his fingers splayed along Steve's jaw. As Steve puffed on the cigarette, he seemingly paid no mind to Eddie's fingers pressing against his lips. 

The last vestiges of winter drew a shiver from Steve as the sun sank low behind the treeline.

“You want my jacket?”

Steve made a noise, pulling away with a shake of his head before exhaling. “I'll be okay,” he said softly. His eyes closed as the last rays of light painted over his face. “Thanks by the way.”

Eddie inhaled sharply after pulling the cigarette from his lips. “For what?” he asked, exhaling. His fingers brushed against Steve’s lips when he offered the cigarette again. 

“I know I’m objectively just a spectator in all of this and have no right to be freaking out.” He shrugged, dragging his thumb along the seam of his jeans as he puffed on their shared cigarette. “Thanks for staying with me.”

“I’d follow you anywhere,” Eddie promised, nudging Steve’s shoulder with his own. He plucked the filter from Steve’s lips, closing his eyes as he breathed in deeply. “You know that, man. On stage- or on the battlefield, I guess. Wherever, anywhere.”

“Yeah, I know,” Steve said. After a moment of quiet, his head rested on Eddie’s shoulder. “I love you, man.”

A smile found its way to Eddie's lips as he shifted, wrapping an arm around Steve’s shoulders. “I love you, too.”

They stayed outside as the sun set, burning through two more cigarettes and decidedly more than five minutes. 

Both of their heads turned when Robin’s voice called out from the window. “There you dufuses are! I've been knocking for the last five minutes,” she said as she stepped out onto the roof.

“Hey, careful,” Steve chided as she ran over.

“God,” she scoffed, taking a seat next to Eddie. “I thought you were making out. This is much worse.”

“What is?” Steve laughed. 

“Smoking.” She held out two fingers as if there were a cigarette between them, miming taking a drag before making a disgusted face. “It’s totally gross!”

“Yeah,” Steve said, leaning back against the roof. Silently, he folded his hands in his lap. “Not too scared of what it'll do to me when we're already cheating death.”

Robin looked at Eddie with a raised brow before leaning over him to shove Steve's shoulder. “What are you? Fourteen?” 

“Hey, careful!”

“So much angst, my god.”

Steve looked up at Eddie with an exaggerated frown. “She’s so mean to me.”

“And you!” She jabbed her finger into Eddie’s shoulder, pulling his attention away from Steve. “Why are you letting Holden Caulfield suck the air out of the roof- off of the roof-” She squinted, waving her hands between them. “You know what I mean.”

“I know what you mean,” Eddie said, nodding in confirmation.

“Rude,” Steve mumbled with a roll of his eyes.

Eddie nudged him, earning a small smile before he turned to Robin.

“You guys make any progress?”

She nodded, wrapping her arms around her knees. “I think they're nearly there. Just wanted to make sure you were okay. I heard the door.”

“Shit.” Steve sat up quickly, turning towards Eddie and Robin. His hand landed on Eddie’s thigh, steadying himself. “Max- I mean, did she-”

“No,” Robin soothed, reaching over Eddie’s lap to rest her hand on Steve’s wrist. “She had her headphones in. You're fine.”

“Thank god,” he breathed, shoulders relaxing.

With a nod of her head, Robin hummed in agreement. “But you’re okay?”

Steve nodded. 

“Blink twice if you're lying.”

“Robin.”

“Just making sure.” She reached forward, poking him on the forehead before turning to Eddie. “What about you?”

Eddie shrugged. “Best I can be.”

“You know, I'll take it.” Robin waved Steve closer, kissing him on the forehead before doing the same to Eddie. “Later, losers." She stood, disappearing as quickly as she'd arrived. “Oh!” she called from inside before her head popped out the window again. “So, what's the deal with dinner? Am I sous chefing it up, or you have plans of  blowing through a lot of tater tots tonight?”

Steve sighed, pressing his fingertips against his closed eyes. “Give me twenty?”

“See you down there, Chef.”

“Go away.”

“Yes, Chef.” She waved, winking at them before she was gone again. “Goodbye, Chef!” she called from inside.

“Bye,” Steve said softly, not bothering to put in the effort of raising his voice. Steve glanced over at him, holding eye contact long enough that Eddie forgot to breathe. Suddenly, he leaned forward, nudging his forehead against Eddie's shoulder like a cat, breaking the spell they were under. 

“Come on, freak,” Eddie teased, rifling Steve's hair before pushing to his feet. He offered a hand, wiggling his fingers when Steve hesitated. “Up.”

Steve finally reached out, taking Eddie's hand. Their hands parted when they were both standing, Steve following Eddie inside.

A few minutes later, Eddie found himself lying back on Steve's mattress, staring up at the ceiling as he listened to the shower turn on. Some jazzy pop tune found its way onto the radio Steve kept in the bathroom, the steady thump of the kick drum pulling Eddie in. He couldn't help but smile, eyes slipping closed as he let out a breath at the sound of Steve's voice creeping in through the ajar door, repeating simple lyrics about how this is the day between harmonica solos. 

“Time?” Steve called out during a moment of quiet. The opening riff of The Killing Moon quickly filled the bathroom with noise again.

Eddie brought his arm up over his head, reading the time on the clockface to himself. “It’s only been like three minutes, Michael.”

“Right, okay,” Steve said quietly. He spoke up when he continued. “Can you tell me when it's been five minutes?”

“From now?”

Steve hesitated for a moment. “Yes,” he said slowly. 

“Dude, they're not timing you to the second.”

“I know that.”

“You're fine.”

“Yeah,” Steve said, unsure. 

“You're fine.”

After a moment of quiet, Steve spoke again. “Yeah?”

“Hundred percent, man.”

“Okay.”

“I've got you,” Eddie said. “Relax a little. Take your five minutes.”

Steve snorted. “Yeah, ‘cause that went so well last time.”

“I'm watching the clock.”

“Whatever, man.”

“I mean, maybe I'll stop watching if you keep using that tone.”

“Well,” Steve said confidentially. “They’ll wait.”

Eddie couldn't help but grin, tucking his arms under his head. “That's my man.”

Steve hummed before going quiet.

Quickly growing bored, Eddie got off of the bed, walking over the rifle through Steve's drawers. He picked over the selection of shirts and sweaters, grabbing something for him and Steve. The water turned off as Eddie sorted through pants.

Clad in only a pair of boxer shorts, Steve wandered out of the bathroom just as Eddie finished changing. “Hey, so-” He caught the green sweater and dark gray sweats flung at him with ease before continuing. “What?”

“That was less than five minutes,” Eddie said before sticking his tongue out antagonistically.

Steve shrugged, water dripping from the ends of his hair. “I’m speedy.”

“That's not what I‘ve heard.”

Steve's eyes narrowed before he started pulling on the clothes Eddie gave him. He wandered back into the bathroom, dragging the towel over his hair as he looked in the mirror. “Do you think Robin’s mad?” he asked after a breath.

“What? Why would she be mad?”

“I told you about our pact?”

Eddie chuckled, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “No,” he said, watching Steve in the mirror. “What’s your pact?”

“No smoking.”

With furrowed brows, Eddie nodded. “Right,” he said slowly.

“Because of that girl-”

Eddie racked his brain, thinking back on the last time Robin and Steve had been squabbling about a girl. “Veronica?”

“Vickie.”

“Right.” Eddie nodded along, occasionally catching Steve's gaze in the mirror.

“So, like, I guess she's a candy striper once a week or something.” He hung the towel on the back of the door before pulling a comb from behind the mirror. “And now Robin’s trying to quit-”

“She barely smokes.”

“That’s what I said, but what do I know?” Steve shrugged, gaze pinned to the reflection of his hair. “But,” he continued. “You know how she gets. She goes on a kick about how she drinks too much coffee, like, once a month- and her brain’s Jell-O around hot girls, so of course she got talked into thinking she has a problem.”

“And by association-”

“I get pulled into her new resolution to give up smoking.”

Eddie hummed in understanding. “How did I miss this?”

“She made an executive decision, like, last week or something.”

“You smoked with me on Monday and Thursday.”

Steve shushed him, fighting a smile. “I had time to shower and brush my teeth. She never needs to know.”

Eddie couldn't help but smirk. “Okay, but you can't pit the girls against each other.”

A smile found its way to Steve's lips as his gaze fell to the sink.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he said softly. He made quick work of the rest of his hair, joining Eddie in the bedroom a few minutes later. “Time?”

Eddie glanced down at his watch. “Five minutes to spare.”

He nodded, sitting down next to Eddie. “My face looks okay? Like, I don't look like I was crying?”

Perfect, Eddie found himself thinking. He reached out, brushing a lock of hair away from Steve's eyes before nodding. “Yeah,” he breathed, forcing a smile. “You look okay.”

“Okay.” Steve nodded, glancing down at Eddie's chin before ducking away. “Ready?”

“Yeah.” Without another word, he followed Steve down the hallway and into the noisy kitchen.

They’d finished off more than half a dozen frozen pizzas by the time everyone had finally settled in the basement. Dustin and Lucas were still amped, rambling about everything and nothing while Max sat, fiddling with her walkman.

Steve watched, arms crossed over his chest where he sat on the couch. His head slowly tipped forward before he raised it, breathing in sharply. He blinked rapidly, staring ahead.

“You okay?”

He nodded, taking a few breaths before speaking again. “I'm cool.”

Eddie hummed in acknowledgement, openly watching as Steve's head slowly bobbed forward again. “Yeah, okay.”

Steve sat up quickly, palms pressing against the couch to ground himself as he scanned the living room before easing back against the cushions. After blinking slowly, he glanced over at Eddie, a dopey smile on his lips.

“Hey, Stevie?”

“Yeah?”

“You alright?”

“Yeah.” He nodded, blinking slowly. “Tired.”

“You think you may want to go to bed soon?”

Steve nodded, glancing down at his watch for the time. “Yeah-” He yawned. “Maybe in like an hour or two. Besides, everyone might want to sleep in shifts to keep watch.”

“I don’t know,” Eddie said. “I think you deserve a free pass. The gremlins didn't pull a sixty-hour work week before monster hunting.”

Steve huffed, waving Eddie off. “It was only like fifty-something.”

“Plus practice.”

Steve yawned, nodding Eddie along. 

“And chauffeuring those same little punks around-” 

Steve frowned. “Yeah, but you do that, too, dude.” 

“Okay, but I also kept you out late, like, every day this week. Do you not remember your little nap before you left Thursday night, man?”

“I'll be fine. Promise.”

“Steve, we're literally in your house. They can't be safer than that.”

“Now, hold on-”

“Cut it. She's your fucking house, Stevie. Cunt Harrington hasn't-”

“Hey,” Steve chuckled. “You promised me you weren't going to call him that-”

“Exceptions must be made! Let me finish, Charlotte!”

“What?”

“Like the bitch who makes webs, keep up. Okay, so-”

“Weirdo.”

“I'll literally bite you. Let me finish!” Eddie laughed, playfully pounding his fists against Steve's shoulder.

“Okay, okay!” Steve laughed, shoving Eddie's hands away. Their fingers intertwined absentmindedly before falling to Steve's lap. “What do you have to say about Richard?”

“Thank you, Charlotte. As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted-” He shoved Steve again with his free hand, smiling when Steve stuck his tongue out. “Dick hasn't even been to Indiana in over a year. And then, like, last month he had that guy-”

“The notary?”

“The notary! He just shows up randomly with updated paperwork and asks you to sign? I mean, did you read the whole thing yet?”

“I've been busy.” Steve shrugged. “They wouldn't send something if it wasn't important. The notary said it was about adding me to the lease or something.”

Eddie blinked. “Baby, she's yours. You weren't just added to the lease or something. You're the owner. I powered through it twice yesterday-”

“You read it?” Steve asked, brows furrowed as his arms crossed over his chest. 

“With all my time in the world? Yeah. I just got bored and it's been sitting in the study, so I figured-” He shrugged. “Listen, I wasn't about to stop you, but I wanted to know what you signed. Like, we talked about this as a band, man- no contract until we all talk.”

“Yeah, but the band is different-”

“Exactly, dude. You were halfway through cooking for eight or nine people and we had, like, friend-family dinner in thirty minutes when he got here. I had to physically push you away from the cutting board, if you care to remember.”

Steve didn't say anything for a moment. “Why didn't you read before I signed?”

“Not my place. Plus, as much as I just adore dear old Dick-”

“The call on New Year's was an exception. That was totally rare form for him.”

“I know. He said your mother was busy as ever-”

“Doesn’t excuse much. She’s always busy.”

“Teresa Harrington? Busy?” Eddie gasped dramatically. “No way, no how.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Yeah, she’s just swimming in freetime.”

“At least she tries.”

After a breath, Steve nodded. “Yeah,” he said softly. “She does.”

“Timezones and all!” Eddie smiled when Steve’s frown broke. “Anyway, I’m just, like, getting at the fact that, at the end of the day, you trust them, and that's worth enough in my eyes.” 

Steve's expression softened at his words.

Eddie swallowed down the fluttering feeling in his throat before continuing. “As much as I don’t love Richard, he wants to take care of you, man. Both of them do, and I'm not going to step in the way of that.” His free hand found an errant curl climbing over Steve’s ear, twirling it between his fingers as he continued. “I think it's the only thing we agree on, really.”

“Never thought I'd see the day.”

“Yeah, me neither.” Eddie sighed, letting go of his hair when Steve yawned again. “Alright, grandpa, it's time for bed.”

Steve waved him off, not bothering to open his eyes. 

Robin sat down beside Steve, smiling when he rested his head on her shoulder. “He’s crashing?” Robin asked.

Eddie nodded. “Oh, yeah.”

She hummed, resting her cheek on his head. “Hey, dingus.”

Steve groaned in response. “Plan?” he asked, eyes closed.

She laughed, looking over at Eddie. “Okay, so, the plan was taking shifts to watch over Max, but I think you may not survive the night without some shuteye.”

Eddie frowned, looking over at Steve. “I’d definitely be helpful, but-”

“Oh, yeah.” Robin shook her head. “He’s done tonight.”

Steve groaned.

“Go to sleep.”

“No,” he whined, wrapping his arms around Robin’s waist as his cheek pressed against her shoulder.

Eddie bit his lip to hold back a laugh. “We can sleep down here,” he started. “But I want you to really contemplate that one because Dustin never shuts the fuck up -or we can go upstairs.”

“Fuck.” With a heavy sigh, Steve nodded, burying his face in Robin’s neck. “Yeah? Okay. Let’s go upstairs. Do they need-”

“Nance and I’ll take care of them,” Robin said. “Go.”

Steve held out a hand to Eddie, letting himself be pulled to his feet. After saying goodnight to everyone, Steve followed.

Silently, Eddie led them up to the stairs, his fingers lacing through Steve’s as they walked. When they finally made it to the quiet confines of Steve's bedroom, he closed the door behind them, taking a seat on the edge of the mattress.

With a tired sigh, Steve’s head fell to Eddie’s shoulder. He reached out, pulling their hands into his lap.

“Hey,” Eddie said softly. “We’re going to figure this out.”

Steve let out a breath, nodding. “I know.”

Eddie wrapped his hands around his shoulders, pulling Steve in so he ould kiss his forehead. “Come on, let’s go to sleep.”

After pulling back the covers, Steve let Eddie coax him closer to the pillows. By the time Steve laid back on the mattress, he was already out for the night.

Eddie closed his eyes, focusing on the sound of Steve’s breathing as leaves rustled through the ajar window.

When he opened his eyes again, Chrissy stared back at him from the ceiling with unseeing eyes.

The grandfather clock downstairs chimed, each pang of the hour sending splitting pain through his head.

Eddie woke with a gasp, sitting up quickly, despite his entanglement with Steve. He wiped his hands over his face, the sleeves of Steve’s black henly drying any sweat on his cheeks and forehead. He dragged the sleeve over his mouth and nose.

With a noise of discontentment, Steve rolled over, pulling the blanket with him. Pale blue light crawled in through the window, illuminating his bare back.

The clock on Steve’s bedside stared back at Eddie, telling him nearly six hours had passed since he remembered closing his eyes. He stared at the pattern peaking through the maroon paint of Steve’s walls until his eyes felt dry. He finally stood. After grabbing a pair of pyjama pants from the floor, he shuffled downstairs, stopping when he saw Max sitting at the kitchen table, the sky just turning pink through the windows overlooking the backyard behind her. 

Sheets of paper, crayons, and coloured pencils littered the space around her. She had forgone her Walkman for the radio, the nonstop tape of Running Up That Hill playing from end to end. She flipped the tape with a heavy-sounding clunk as he entered the kitchen.

Without a word, Eddie walked over to the cabinets, pulling a glass down before heading to the fridge. He unscrewed the top of the bottle. “How’re you doing, Red?” he asked, setting a glass beside her.

“Couldn’t sleep.” She shrugged, taking a sip from her orange juice. “Everyone was really into you and Steve’s passion for music. They kept shoving the Kate Bush in my ears all night.”

Eddie shrugged, glancing down at the drawings in front of her. “What can I say?” A white border framed each image, red hastily covering the background. “We’re revolutionaries.”

She hummed in acknowledgement, looking down at the paper she had covered in pigment. “Oh yeah. Rockstars, if I’ve ever seen them.”

“Gross. More like Metal Gods, I’d hope.”

Her nose crinkled in disgust. “Now you’re being gross.”

Eddie smiled, turning back to the kitchen. “Waffles or pancakes?” he asked, making quick work of gathering supplies. 

Max shook her head, eyes glued to the paper as she dragged her crayon along it. “Eggs.”

“You know,” he started, reaching for the cardboard carton sitting in the fridge. “I think you may be onto something.”

She smiled when he glanced back at her. “Any thoughts on bacon?”

“Oh, hell yeah.” He pulled out a large flat pan, turning on the flame before greasing it with butter. “How's our gal treating you?” he asked, cracking a few eggs into a bowl before going at them with a fork. 

“Fine.” Max shrugged, looking out the window at the slow-rising sun. She fiddled with the volume on the radio before speaking again, softer than before “Just wish the circumstances were better.”

Eddie hummed in understanding, glancing between her and the flat top. “Me too, man.”

Around the time Eddie turned off the flame on the flattop, commotion sounded downstairs.

Max looked at him, mouth opening to speak just before the basement door at the edge of the room flew open.

Nancy burst forth, Dustin and Lucas following quickly, all relaxing at the sight of Max at the kitchen table. Her brows furrowed before she turned to Eddie. “How did you-”

He rolled his eyes, looking back towards the stove. “She's been up all night.”

Nancy nodded, a tight smile finding her lips. “Right.”

A moment passed before Steve appeared in the threshold of the kitchen, dressed in the sweats Eddie had left on the bedroom floor, squeezing by for the mug of coffee Eddie had set out for him. He leaned back against the counter beside Eddie, rubbing his eye with his palm.

“I offered to stay up,” Eddie said.

Steve nodded, tucking himself into Eddie’s side. “Henderson is a shitty lookout.” Sluggishly, he sipped his coffee.

“Hey!”

“Plus,” Eddie continued, offering a sharp smile. “The horrifying nightmares don't offer much in the way of a restful night’s sleep.”

Steve took another long sip before trying to wander by. He froze when Eddie's hand came to rest on his chest. 

Eddie grabbed a plate piled high with eggs, a few strips of bacon, and a buttered English muffin, forcing the plate into Steve’s hands without any further preamble. “Sit.”

“But-”

“Sit,” he said sternly, pointing to the table. “We're not having a repeat of the April show. You remember that one?”

“I forgot to eat one time-”

“So, don’t forget today.”

Steve sighed heavily, finding a seat next to Max. “Fine.” Slowly, his fork froze as his head cocked to the side. He reached out, sliding one of the papers Max had drawn on closer to him. “Is that what you saw last night?” 

“I mean,” Max said, looking away from the pages. “It’s supposed to be. I thought it would be easier to draw it out.”

“Yeah, that looks like it would be impossible to explain.” Eddie looked on from over Steve’s shoulder, taking in the red and black hues filling the page. A caricature somewhere between The Scream and Chrissy looked up at him. “Is that-” He paused, unable to finish his thought.

She nodded, looking down at the fragmented sketche of another person beside Chrissy. “It looked like they were-” She paused, thinking. “On display.” Her head cocked to the side. “There was this- this red fog everywhere and the ground looked like it was covered in blood or something.”

“Sounds like a nightmare,” Steve said, his voice soft. 

“Do you think Vecna’s trying to scare you?” Nancy asked, drawing Eddie’s gaze across the table. 

“Definitely,” Max said. “Everything with Billy-” She nodded. “Totally. But here?” She tapped on the drawing, shaking her head back and forth. “I don’t think I was supposed to be here. He almost looked surprised. Like, he didn’t want me there or something.”

Dustin straightened in his seat, interest piqued. “Maybe you infiltrated his mind,” he said. “He invaded your mind, right? Is it that much of a leap to think you somehow wound up in his?”

Eddie’s brows furrowed. “Like Freddy Krueger’s boiler room?” 

“Oh my god,” Steve groaned, tipping his head back. “Enough with the slashers already.”

He rolled his eyes. “Just because I appreciate quality cinema-”

“So, you think she unlocked a door into his mind?” Steve interrupted, turning to Dustin.

“Close.” Dustin grinned back at Steve. “I think she unlocked a door into his world.”

“What does that mean?” Eddie asked.

Steve nodded in agreement.

Dustin picked up one of the pages, studying it. “It means that maybe there’s some answer to all this in these incredibly vague drawings.” He frowned, glancing at the pages surrounding them. “God, we need Will.”

“Yeah, no shit.” Max rolled her eyes. “I tried them again this morning, and it’s the busy signal.”

Eddie’s brows furrowed.

“Weird,” Robin mumbled, picking her head off the table. “I tried a couple of times last night.” She continued when Nancy straightened in her seat. “Couldn’t get through to them.”

Steve looked down at the paper between him and Max. “Is that the window from the place out on Morehead?” Steve asked before taking a bite of his bacon. His head cocked to the side when he noticed Dustin staring at him. “What? I get around.”

“That’s what the girls say,” Robin teased.

“Christ,” Steve grumbled, rolling his eyes. He leaned forward, picking at his plate. 

“So,” Eddie said, slowly. “What’s next?”

“Snooping,” Steve mumbled before shoving more eggs in his mouth.

“We're not snooping, we're gathering information,” Nancy said, smiling to match the syrupy sweet tone she used. 

He laughed dryly. “Right.” 

The rest of breakfast passed in a blur, Nancy, Lucas, and Dustin rambling as Steve kept an anxious yet watchful eye over Max.

After they finished clearing the table, Eddie reached out, his hand finding Steve’s shoulder. 

Easily, Steve leaned into his touch.

“With me.”

After a breath, Steve nodded, following closely. He stayed quiet as they ascended the stairs, stalling at the edge of the hallway just outside of his door. “You’ll be okay?” He asked suddenly. He cleared his throat, not quite meeting Eddie’s gaze before continuing. “While we’re gone, I mean.” 

Eddie nodded. “I’ll be alright.”

“Right,” Steve said.

When he didn’t move, Eddie reached out, wrapping his arms around Steve. “I’ll be okay,” he promised, thumb swiping over Steve’s shoulder.  “Go.” His lips brushed along Steve’s temple as he shifted to whisper in his ear. “Help them solve the case, Fletcher.”

With a chuckle, Steve pushed away, smiling. “Stop it.” 

“You and Nancy Drew will figure it out.”

“Yeah,” Steve snorted. “That’s not including Batman, Robin-”

“Hey, hey,” Eddie said. “I would be lying if I said the cards weren’t stacked against us, but let’s not count our shortcomings just yet, okay?”

A moment of quiet passed as they held each other's gaze. “Yeah,” Steve said, looking down at their socks. 

When the black fabric covering Steve’s feet brushed against his, Eddie realized the white socks he was wearing didn’t belong to him. “Be careful,” Eddie said. He closed his eyes, letting his head fall to Steve’s shoulder. “Promise me?” he begged, desperately trying to clear the images of Chrissy’s final moments from his mind.

Steve’s arms wrapped around Eddie’s waist, easing the tension from his frame. “We’re just walking around an old, empty house. I’m more worried about stepping on a rusty nail or loose floorboard than anything else.”

He smiled, tightening his hold for a breath. “Careful of spiders.” Eddie reached up, trailing his fingers through Steve’s hair. “They’ll get lost and burrow in here. You won’t find them until the eggs hatch and-”

“Jesus,” Steve whined, pushing Eddie back by a hand against his chest. “Don’t be creepy!” 

Eddie smiled, ruffling his hair as he followed Steve into the bedroom. He laughed when Steve batted his hands away angrily, storming off to change.

The hours passed slowly after everyone left to investigate the Creel house.

As the grandfather clock in the living room ticked, Eddie wandered the house like a ghost, unsure where to settle.

Unable to settle, truly.

The afternoon sun had just come to its peak when Eddie poured himself a bowl of cereal, too tired to bother cooking or reheating anything.

He longed to crawl back into bed.

Wished to close his eyes for restful, peaceful sleep, and not open them until everything was back to normal.

Normal.

With a shaky breath, Eddie put the milk back in the fridge. He sat down at the counter, swirling his spoon in the sweetened liquid as he watched his Frosted Flakes go soggy. After what felt like hours, he raised a bite to his mouth. 

The spoon in Eddie’s hand clattered to the counter when the doorbell rang.

Read it on ao3.

[the-inspector-jones]

"Eddie's crying about pigeons again," Robin sighed as she left the frigid wind outside the studio.

Steve rolled his eyes. "Where is he?"

"He won't get out of the van."

"I'll go talk to him. He was crying about them this morning too but it turned out he was just hungry.”

Robin smirked. "This morning?"

Which like. Fuck. That slip was going to be…tricky.

"I—there's—" he tried. He sighed. It was pointless. He was caught. So. He chose boldness and his arms defiantly. "Yeah. This morning."

"Well," she smirked, gesturing to the parking lot. "Get out there, white knight. But for the record? Good job."

He rolled his eyes again, secretly pleased.

In the van, Eddie had his head in his hands, clearly trying to master himself. He looked up when the door opened.

"Oh god," he groaned. "She sent you out here?"

"Well. I mean. Again, Eddie?"

"I was just educating her about how we fucking abandoned them!"

"I know,” Steve said soothingly.

"Forgotten fucking heros. We sent them to war, and now? We call them sky rats. They don't know how to even care for themselves! They come to us for help, Steve!"

"I know Eds. Pizza or burrito?" he asked, ignoring Eddie's scowl and opening his bag. "I have leftovers of both.”

Eddie took the pizza he was offered and shoved way too much into his mouth.

“Unrelated,” Steve said, breathless, “I think I might have accidentally told Robin we’re together.”

Eddie froze.

“She already knew,” Steve rushed. “I think, anyway. It's Robin. And. We’re not subtle.”

Eddie rubbed his face with both hands as he finished chewing, but he was smirking now and the pigeon panic seemed to have subsided.

"I didn't mean to," Steve continued, unable to wait Eddie out. "It just came out. I mentioned this morning and then she looked at me, and I panicked. I could see it in her face. She knew we're a thing. Which—wait...shit. Are we a thing? I mean, I think we are, but."

"Stevie," Eddie said gently. "Baby. Breathe."

Steve stopped, jaw slack, and watched Eddie pick at the pizza again, silent. But he smiled wide as he tilted his head toward Steve.

"You're not upset?" Steve asked, baffled. "Because we should have talked about it, and if this is too fast, and if I just completely screwed this up, I can—"

"Okay," Eddie interrupted. "First of all, I'm flattered you panic-announced me. Very romantic. Very you."

Steve huffed a laugh that died halfway through.

"Second," Eddie went on, "sorry I'm not reacting to this news with the appropriate excitement. I'm really hungry."

Steve stared at him. "You're not freaking out at all?"

"Oh, I'm freaking out internally," Eddie teased. "But my stomach has control of the emotions right now."

He took a second bite of cold pizza, chewed, then softened when he saw Steve still frozen, one hand on the door handle like he might bolt.

"Hey," Eddie said around the mouthful, quieter now. "I like you. I like that you told someone. It's all good."

Steve exhaled, long and shaky, like he'd been holding his breath since the word ‘together’ had left his mouth.

"Okay," he said. "Okay. That's...yeah. Okay."

Eddie smiled. "Steve. We're good. But, you have to listen to me talk about pigeons for five more minutes in exchange for outing me."

He didn't even protest, just laughed and stole Eddie's crust.

"They delivered love letters in wars, Steven. They saved lives. And now people kick them. I just...god..."

"I really should not have let you go to the science center with Dustin."

"They remember faces and they mate for life. And we just...stole their jobs and threw them away."

"Alright, let's get you inside. I don't think this is gonna be a cold pizza in the van sort of problem."

Eddie reached out and grabbed Steve by the back of the neck, resting their foreheads together.

"Thanks for never treating anyone like they're disposable. Even when you were an asshole. Never that."

And Steve's heart stopped beating for a moment, finally understanding the place this particular Munson softness originated. It was always sudden, and Steve was never ready, these moments of clarity. He wanted to wrap Eddie into a small ball that he could tuck inside his chest, just to keep him safe there. Forever.

Steve breathed out, let the words tumble even though they felt too real, too vulnerable. “You are precious and kind, and I will never let anyone take your job and throw you away. Even if you steal French fries."

Eddie pushed away and laughed, kissing Steve sure and quick as he leapt from the van. Steve was pretty sure he's never going to be able to recover from the journey that is loving this man.

Which was pretty great, all pigeons considered.

[losttheoldone-hereweareagain]

So It Goes, So It Goes, So It Goes

Come one, come all to another edition of "fics I'll probably never write". This one's a Steddie AU based on Noah Kahan's Porch Light in which Eddie survived and he and Steve got close.

And there was a moment where it became heartbreakingly clear that Steve was falling for Eddie. (Because Steve never knew how to love casually, it was always all in, always reaching greedily for what he missed out on from his absent parents, desperate and hungry for connection, for someone to love him the way he loved them.)

And Eddie ran. (Because Eddie is a coward. That's what he tells himself again and again when he makes the worst choices, when he takes the easy way out, doing anything to keep the mask in place, to protect himself from real, genuine risk.)

Eddie leaves town, doesn't tell anyone but Wayne, does everything he can to cut contact. He makes it out and then gets discovered and makes it big, the next huge name in metal music. The charismatic lead of a group that's becoming famous beyond their musical genre. And he's living a rockstar life, reckless and wild and pretending this is better than what he maybe could have had.

Steve stayed in Hawkins. At first he told himself it was for the kids, and when they got older, finished high school, started leaving, he told himself someone had to stay in case the Upside Down ever came back. It doesn't matter how many times El and Will promise him it's gone, really, truly. It's his excuse. Nancy left years ago, Jonathon is in California with Argyle. Even Erica is off at Stanford getting a fancy law degree. Robin stuck around as long as she could but she needed more than Hawkins too, although she's closer than everyone else, just a few hours away in Chicago.

And Steve is still fucking there, resigned to abandonment. Which, he knows that's stupid - everyone would welcome him where ever they are, be delighted to help him leave town for good. (Well, almost everyone. Not the one person he hoped to leave with, years and years ago. Someone he had started building a life with in his head, only for them to vanish without a word in the dead of night rather than stick around after Steve tried to confess.)

So Steve is stuck, frozen, working another dead end job without his platonic soulmate or his kids. Sometimes he'll go over to the Sinclair's for Sunday dinner. Share a cigarette with Joyce on her porch, or a drink with Hopper at the quarry. Visit Claudia Henderson and sit for a while with Mews the Third in his lap while she gossips about the newest small-town hospital drama. Go to Benny's with Wayne Munson and talk about the latest game.

And then Eddie does something stupid. To be fair, he's been doing stupid things for a while and it's all been fine. Ish. But this time it's worse, an overdose that nearly kills him and makes national news. And Wayne, who knows his nephew and now knows Harrington well enough to put together some pieces, lays down the law. Eddie will be coming back to Hawkins and staying until- well, he doesn't really say. His tone is enough for Eddie to guess the goal is sobriety.

(Wayne wants that for Eddie, too. But mostly he just wants him to let himself be loved by possibly the best man Wayne's ever met. Which is odd as hell, considering Wayne knew Harrington Sr and hated his guts. Somehow Steve ended up nothing like his asshole of a father, and Wayne thanks a god he doesn't quite believe in anymore for the kind heart the boy has beating in his chest.)

And all that means that Eddie and Steve keep running into each other and Eddie has to face the devastation he left behind him, while Steve tries his hardest to be both supportive and there for his friend and not let his feelings get in the way.

Anyway, go listen to this fucking song and be absolutely destroyed the same way I was, if you feel up to it.

(Yes, this would have a happy ending if I ever actually wrote it. But first it would hurt so insanely good.)

[xmelimelonx]

Begging for Steddie writers to lock the fuck in with Stobin. I can't keep reading 10/10 fics only to have to mentally take points away for the lack of Stobin platonic soulmates representation 💔

[nandatjl63]

best of the week♡

• Lost in the promise you made by Sadstateofaffairs | Steve Harrington can't wait to relax and celebrate with his baby girl in the week prior to her Lake Como wedding. He won't let anything ruin it. Not even the presence of his ex husband.

important tags:Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, they have a daughter!, Getting Back Together.

• Eddie Munson's Book of Grievances by ArgentumCivitas, Little_Annie | 40,000 words from Eddie's diary.

important tags:Imagined Backstory, diary entries.

• how i wasted my time before you by asbealthgn | Not that Eddie would ever be into Harrington. Imagine the mess.

important tags:Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Teachers, Slow Burn.

• don't go home without me by itachtea, kalvar | au where everyone has the last words their soulmate will say to them written on their wrist.

important tags:Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Soulmates, Happy Ending.

• i only want to share it with you by asbealthgn | “Hey, did you know Eddie is my boyfriend?”

important tags:Hurt/Comfort, idiots to lovers, Domestic Fluff

[gwendeeagain]

ao3 does in fact have a reccomendations tab and it's called going to your favorite author's bookmarks list

[xmelimelonx]

Does anyone have that one steddie fic series where every fic has the name of a month and they have that really toxic situationship going on? Last one I read was called September I think, and Steve had a new boyfriend.

[ladykailitha]

Paper Hearts Part 1

Remember how my posting schedule was going to be based on strictly vibes from now on? Yeah this is why. I have three chapters of this completed and only two of most everything else because I hurt my right wrist on Wednesday evening (I think I overextended my elbow and it fucked up the tendons in my wrist, because I've done that before on my arm and it feels like that).

So instead of getting more work done on stuff that is literally paragraphs away from the end of the chapter I'm having to tap into my backlog. Which is what it's for. But it is annoying.

I am also aware it's nearly May, but my muse was never one for sense.

Summary: Hawkins High is selling paper hearts to help raise for senior prom. $3 for red romantic hearts and $1 for pink friendship hearts. Steve hasn't dated anyone since the horrific breakup with Nancy on Halloween and so he decides that he's going to send pink hearts to senior girls who wouldn't normally get any hearts at all. When Eddie hears about this he can't help be intrigued. It goes against his very well curated Munson Doctrine. But as events keep throwing them together, Eddie learns there is more to King Steve then meets the eye.

Also a note: the use of the other's last name when it's their point of view is deliberate. As they get to know each other more, the more first names get used.

****

Steve was staring at the huge sign with a sense of dread. In big pink and white letters on a red background screamed the words:

PAPER HEARTS FOR YOUR VALENTINE $1 FOR PINK FRIENDSHIP HEARTS $3 FOR RED ROMANTIC HEARTS ALL PROCEEDS GO TO CLASS OF 1985 SENIOR BALL

Valentine’s Day. That time of year for lovers and romantics. That used to be him. But not since Nancy broke his heart by breaking up with him for Jonathan Byers.

There would be no paper hearts in locker this year. Not even pink ones. Nancy had well and truly blown up his life and she got to walk away scott free.

He didn’t know what to do anymore. He pinched his nosed and rubbed the end. He wasn’t going to cry in the middle of the fucking main hall of Hawkins High.

Just before he was about to start moving again someone shoulder checked him, sending back to the floor and all his stuff sprawling around it like some fucked flower.

“Watch it, Harrington!” the voice growled as whoever it was sped off down the hall.

Steve didn’t even bother looking to see who it was. It could have been anyone these days. His former friends. Billy and his ilk. Hell, even the nerds and geeks got in on the action lately.

He knelt down to start cleaning it up when someone else kicked his books toward the lockers. He managed to get most of it picked up when he reached for the last notebook. Someone stepped on his hand and ground down, hurting Steve and ripping the cover off the notebook, crinkling the first couple of pages.

He shoved it into his bag and cradled his hand to his chest. He looked at his watch and sighed. Lunch was nearly over and he hadn’t even made it to the cafeteria yet.

There was nothing for it, he had to get to his next class. He walked into the class room just as the bell rang, but instead of heading for his usual spot near the front he made for the back of the class. There were always a few empty seats around Munson. The guy was terrifying on a good day.

And Steve hoped it was a good day.

****

Eddie made to class on time by the skin of his teeth. He slid through door just as the bell rang above his head. He was about to lope over to his usual spot in the back when he stopped dead in his tracks.

He looked up at the front at the deliberately left open seat and back at the seat next to his with a raised eyebrow. He wisely said nothing as he flopped into the torture device known as the chesk. Dair? Whatever the hell it was called where some unspeakable horror thought to combine a desk and a chair.

Eddie glanced sidelong at his new companion. The recently deposed king of Hawkins High sat slumped in his chesk, head down, just staring at its surface as if held the meaning to life the universe and everything.

Which if Harrington asked him, he would have been told forty-two.

He pulled out his notebook and noticed that Harrington did not do the same. Curiouser and curiouser. He pulled out a pencil and settled in to avoid falling to sleep today.

He was taking notes and doing the assignment like he was supposed to when about half way through class the teacher called out to him.

“Mr. Harrington!” she shrieked. “If you are going to be sitting in the back, please have the decency to pay attention in class!”

A couple of kids snickered.

“You were talking about how the Fool is used to lighten the absolutely horrific scene above him of Lady Macbeth as she tries to get blood out of her gown,” he muttered, scratching his cheek with his left hand.

That was when the teacher and Eddie noticed the same thing at the same time.

Harrington was cradling his right hand to his chest.

“Mr. Harrington is there something wrong with your right hand?”

“I accidentally hurt it during lunch,” he said with wince.

The teacher tapped her foot and crossed her arms. “And why didn’t you see the nurse?”

“It happened right before class,” Harrington muttered, “and I didn’t want to be late.”

The teacher huffed and shook her head. “I will give you note for your next teacher, but you will see the nurse after class, am I understood?”

He nodded.

“Mr. Munson,” she cried out, shrill. “If you’ll share your notes with Mr. Harrington after class so he does not fall behind.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

He continued to keep an eye on Harrington throughout the whole class but whenever their English teacher tried to catch him out, she would fail every time.

When the bell rang Eddie started shoving his stuff into his backpack. “You sure you even need my notes, Harrington? That was pretty impressive shit you pulled out of your ass today.”

Harrington just shrugged. “Just because I was paying attention doesn’t mean it won’t bleed out of my ears with all the algebra and chemistry stuff I have later.”

Eddie winced in sympathy. “Yeah, I hear that. What’s your locker number and I’ll just slip a copy of my notes in the slots.”

“323B.”

“They got you on a lower locker?” he asked with a grimace. “That’s jacked up. Even Mr. Super Senior here got a top locker. Does the secretary hate you or some shit?”

Again Harrington shrugged. “I’ve got to go. I’ll catch you later.”

Eddie folded his arms at looked at him. “You’re not going to the nurse’s station, are you?”

This time it was Harrington who winced.

“That’s what I thought,” he huffed. “I’m walking you to said nurse’s station because it could be broken and if you don’t get that looked at, you’ll be in more than just a world of hurt, man. You could fuck up your hand for life and you wouldn’t be able to anything in that hand ever again.”

Steve’s eyes went wide as all color drained from his face.

“Shit.”

Eddie grabbed both of their backpacks and headed for the door. “Yeah, shit.”

Harrington hurried to catch up, hand still cradled to his chest.

“How did you know that could happen to my hand?” he asked softly.

Eddie eyed him sidelong, but the kid wasn’t being an ass. In fact he would say Harrington was being earnest.

“My uncle works at the machinist plant up the road,” Eddie explained. “One of his buddies broke his hand on the machine and refused to get it looked at. Guess how well that worked?”

“Was it the plant’s fault?” Harrington asked. Eddie cocked his head to the side. “That you uncle’s friend got hurt?”

Eddie reared his head back in shock that Harrington would even ask.

“No, man,” he said shaking his head. “He was goofing off, being a dick. Uncle Wayne always said that if you knock on every door asking for the devil, one day he’s gonna answer.”

“What happens when the devil comes looking for you?” Harrington muttered to himself and Eddie couldn’t help but wonder what this kid had seen.

Because he knows haunted. And Harrington looks like he has an attic full of ghosts.

Once they got to the nurse’s station Eddie waited for him. When the other boy came out he asked how it went.

“She says it doesn’t feel broken,” he huffed. “But that if it doesn’t improve over the weekend after icing at least three times a day, to come back on Monday and she’ll order an x-ray.”

Eddie nodded. “Right. See you around, Harrington.”

He had barely turned around when Harrington called out to him. “Wait!”

Eddie turned back around to have a piece of paper shoved into his hand. “I got the nurse to excuse us both.”

And before he could even reply the other boy was tearing off down the hall as if the devil himself was chasing him.

And after that comment he’d heard, Eddie couldn’t be sure he wasn’t.

****

Steve was curled up on his bed, icing his hand, staring up at the ceiling, and wondering where the fuck his life had gone so wrong.

Okay so he could answer that one, actually. Demogorgon ate his girlfriend’s best friend while in his backyard. While him and said girlfriend were having sex for the first time.

Yeah... that was all kinds of fucked up.

He still couldn’t believe that Nancy sided with Jonathan about him taking pictures of their first time.

So now Valentine’s Day was two week away and he was dateless, friendless, and unpopular. He wished he could just be called a loner. But a loner was cool and Steve wasn’t even that anymore.

He just had to make until the end of may and then he could graduate, leaving this town in his rearview mirror for good.

Steve knew that he would have to struggle through this fucking holiday and Senior prom then it would be smooth sailing from there.

He had all this money that he would normally spend on his girlfriends, but now he didn’t even have that. He supposed he could blow it all on beer and weed and then he could enjoy the weekend for a change.

Steve sat up suddenly, the ice pack falling from his hand to hit the floor with sploosh!

Now that was an idea.

He still had one thing in the school that was nonpareil and that was gossip. In fact, it was easier to hear all the dirty little secrets because no one cared if he was standing there.

A smile spread over his face.

That could actually work. It would be a great way to spend his allowance and it would be fun.

He got up and put the ice pack back in the freezer. He couldn’t do anything about it right then but once his hand was better he would formulate his little plan.

Steve was suddenly excited for the first time since he dropped Dustin off at the middle school’s Snow Ball.

He was going to make this holiday fun even if he had to manufacture the fun himself.

****

Eddie was pissed. A little at himself, but mostly at how Harrington was being treated.

He had to sit through lunch and listen a bunch of stupid jocks brag about stomping on Harrington’s hand when he was trying to pick up his stuff off the floor in the hallway yesterday.

They had been hoping for an actual break, but the asshole thought he’d only bruised it.

The reason Eddie was a little mad at himself for this was because he was the one that had shoulder checked Harrington. He had only been trying to get the guy out of his daze. Not send his shit flying.

And then to have someone deliberately stepping on his hand. Fuck. Not even Hagan ever went that far.

Stev–Harrington didn’t deserve that kind of bullying. No one did.

But he could see the twisted sort of appeal, though. And fuck if that didn’t make his stomach turn.

To see the deposed king and want to mock that? Want to dig the hurt in as deep as he could? To drive home the lesson that popularity was fleeting and that existence was a curse?

Yeah, Eddie could see the appeal.

But he wouldn’t. He might make fun of literally everyone and everything but his own interests, but to make turn that into actual cruelty? That was were he drew the line in the sand.

He went home feeling sick to his stomach. And of course Wayne picked up on it immediately.

He jutted his chin at the chicken and rice on Eddie plate that he had only merely pushed around with his fork.

“What’s got you so twisted around the bend?”

Eddie put his fork down and hid his mouth with his clasped hands, elbows on the table.

“I fucked up today,” he murmured. “I didn’t mean for it to go as it did.”

“What did you do?”

So Eddie told him. “I wasn’t trying to hurt him, but he got hurt anyway.”

“That does sound pretty bad,” Wayne agreed. “And as you say, you were trying to help only for it to go very awry. And since you didn’t about it until after the fact you couldn’t apologize and that’s what’s eating you up inside.”

Eddie nodded around his fists, his lower lip quivering.

“You’ll just have to find a way to apologize on Monday,” Wayne said wisely.

Eddie sighed. It was the best he could do. It wasn’t as though he could call the guy up or show up at his house. The first because he didn’t have the guy’s number and the second because he’d get the cops called on him so fast by the neighbors.

It would just have to wait until Monday.

****

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

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[ladykailitha]

Three Cheers for Toby the Tiger! Part 1

Welcome to yet another new story for yours truly! This was another one of those stories that had been percolating for awhile and only recently started writing.

This is just me projecting a friend of mine from middle school who was a theater kid, played several instruments, and had done gymnastics and tumbling on to Eddie Munson. He was the school mascot and was constantly doing jumps and flips off tables and shit. And to me that just screams Eddie to me.

Summary: Eddie's already failed his senior once. And the second go round isn't off to a great start either. So the basketball coach and PE teacher Coach Rowland gives Eddie an ultimatum: either join a sports team or fail PE and high school again. Everyone expects the swim or track teams. But Eddie has a surprise up his sleeve.

~

“Mr. Munson!” Coach Rowland called out as Eddie tried to sneak out of PE yet again. “You get your ass in my office in five minutes or I’ll flunk you out right!”

Eddie winced. He knew he needed the credit to graduate from high school but they were doing rope climbing today and he wasn’t about to have a bunch of jocks mock his form or whatever. He let out a heavy sigh and trudged back into the gym.

He sat in one of the smelly chairs in front of the coach’s desk, resigned. He slouched as far down as he could and glared at the stupid little hockey player bobble-head as if it was the cause of all his problems.

“I know that PE isn’t for everyone,” Coach Rowland huffed as he sat down across from Eddie, “and I know that it’s specifically not for you. But I cannot just hand you a grade and let you pass.”

“I mean you could,” Eddie said with a half smile, “but I think Principal Higgins would fire you.” He shrugged with a grimace.

Coach Rowland laughed. “You’ve got that right. But I’ve talked to him and he said that if you can get on a sports team. Any team, he’ll let you use that as your PE credit. But it will have to be for the whole year.”

Eddie blinked at him for a moment. “Wait, what?” He wiggled his finger in his ear for a moment. “I’m not sure I heard that right.”

“Oh you did,” Coach Rowland said. “Any team that you try out for and make, and you stick with it until the end of the year, then it will count as your PE credit.”

“What if I don’t make any of the teams?” Eddie asked, straightening up in his seat. “I’m not the most athletic of sorts.”

“You want me to name the teams that would absolutely kill to have you on them,” Coach Rowland said with a raised eyebrow, “alphabetically or by best fit for you specifically?”

Eddie grimaced. When he did show up for shit his competitive edge prevented him from faffing it, so his mile run time was decent, his sprint speed was on par if not better than the track team’s star runner, Louis Murphy, and his backstroke was the best in the state for the swim team.

He opted not to do that one when he learned that the team had been okay’ed for wearing brief style Speedo’s. He was little gay boy in a small town, getting beat up on the regular would have been a bad look. Especially when long time crush and king extraordinaire, Steve Harrington was made co-captain this year.

“But it’s whatever team I want and succeed at making the team, right?” Eddie asked, licking his top lip slowly, a twinkle of mischief in his eye.

“That what the principal said,” Coach Rowland agreed. “Why, what have you got in mind?”

“I need to check something first,” Eddie hedged. “You wouldn’t happen to have the rules for all the teams would you?”

Coach Rowlings got up and rifled through his filing cabinet. He handed it to Eddie. “Whatever you’re planning, don’t go looking for trouble, Munson. I don’t think you want to test the principal’s patience with you.”

Eddie stood up and patted him on the shoulder, waving the rule book. “I’ll tell you what, if my first choice falls through, I’ll try out for the swim team.”

Coach Rowland frowned. He had been trying to get Eddie to try out for the swim team for the last three years and the answer had always been no. Dread pooled at the base of his spine. Whatever this kid had planned he knew it wasn’t going to be good.

He watched as Eddie walked out of his office with a spring in his step and whistling ‘Holy Diver’ by Dio.

~

Eddie read the rule book front and back and looked for every possible angle, but it absolutely didn’t prohibit what he was about to do in any way.

Once he was sure he had all his ducks in a row, he started gathering up the things he would need for his chosen tryout.

He called Jeff first.

“Jeffrey my good fellow!” he greeted warmly. “I have a dire need of your boombox for the morrow!”

Jeff let out a heavy sigh. “I don’t why you’re even doing this, man. You could just tryout for the swim team and suck up your little crush so you can fucking graduate.”

“Because beloved companion,” Eddie said brightly, “that would be conforming and I want to prove that you don’t have to take the easy path if you really want to be yourself.”

“God, dude,” Jeff huffed. “Fine. I’ll bring it tomorrow. But you owe so much if this goes to fucking hell like you know it will.”

“Oh ye of little faith...” Eddie said and said goodbye.

To be honest he really didn’t have much faith in the school administrators to let him join the team of his choice, sexist pigs that they were, but he wasn’t just out to prove a point. He could do it.

Next port of call: Brian.

“Bri-guy, my man!” Eddie greeted.

“No.”

Eddie blinked for a moment and then cocked his head to the side. “I haven’t even asked for anything...

“No,” Brian said dryly, “not yet you haven’t. But you’ve go a bee in your bonnet about being asked to join a sport so that you can actually fucking graduate and instead of going out for track which would be the best option for everyone involved, but especially you, you’ve come up with this cockamamie plan that will most like get you suspended if not out and out expelled.”

Eddie’s head rocked back from the sure force of Brian’s rant. “Deep breath, man. How long have you been holding that in?”

“Since you told us at lunch.”

“Oh okay, then,” Eddie said in a clipped tone. “I can do this. I actually would have joined the gymnastics team or tumbling team if they fucking had one. But they don’t so this is my alternative. Yeah, I’m a good runner and a better swimmer, but this, Bri? This is something I’m actually impassioned about like D&D or playing guitar.”

Brian let out a long heavy sigh. “Fine. What is it you want?”

Eddie told him and after some fierce negotiations with Brian’s sister, Maddy, he secured the second piece of his tryout materials.

The final part took two thrift stores and a minor theft get but then he was all ready. He packed all of it in his van and grinned.

~

The next day he walked up to Coach Miller. “Hey, Coach,” he said brightly. “Have you been informed of the deal the principal gave me, right?”

The short blonde haired woman, crossed her arms in front of chest. “I also know that you have to tryout and make it, for me to even consider it.”

“After school at 3:30pm?” Eddie asked with broad dimpled smile. “I bring the tunes and the noise, have no fear.”

She looked him up and down. “Deal.” She stuck out her and he took it, shaking it once.

He skidded to a stop when he saw the crowd that had been gathered on the football field. He had been expecting only handful of people to witness this, but appeared that word had spread of his tryout.

The football team was there, the basketball team, all the coaches. And he meant all the coaches. From the girl’s softball team to the swim team, their coach was there. And of course Principal Higgins.

He stepped out of the dressing room and out onto the field. His hair was in pigtails and his ass was barely covered by the super short skirt. He picked up the pompoms and turned on the tape.

Then Eddie got into position. “Oh, Mikey, you’re so fine, you’re so fine you blow my mind! Hey Mickey!”

And immediately Eddie did a backflip and land into the splits. Then without using his hands at all, he got back into standing. He did twists and turns and a whole routine to the song “Hey Mickey” by Toni Basil.

By the time the song ended the crowd had gone wild and Eddie’s pigtails was drenched in sweat. He was grateful for the cool autumn breeze cooling his overheated skin.

He looked up into the crowd and several of them were rolling around with laughter and astonishment. He grinned.

Coach Miller, Coach Rowland, and Principal Higgins came over to him after what looked to be a furious huddle.

Principal Higgins face was dour and cross while the two coaches looked like cats in the cream.

“It seems I am being overruled,” Higgins growled. “But it appears that according to Hank and Joan that there are no rules against boys joining the cheerleading squad.”

Eddie jumped up and down. “Yes, yes, yes!!” he cried pumping his fist in excitement. He really didn’t think that they would let him.

“However I must think of the parents of these young girls and the certainty that they would not want a boy with their daughters,” Higgins continued.

Eddie felt a cold dread settle in the pit of his stomach. He stopped his celebration. “But that’s not fair. I deserve a spot on the team. I tried out, I have the skills. I could be a spotter if they don’t want me on the team-team. Just...come on.”

Higgins expression softened. “Oh I have intention of bowing to their demands, Munson. But I think I have a way that would mitigate the worst of the protest before they even occur.”

Then two kids walked up with what looked to be a mess of material and a giant foam head. It took Eddie a few seconds to realize what it was. He looked back up at Principal Higgins in wide eyed shock. “No way.”

“I’m afraid it’s this or another team,” Higgins huffed, putting his hands on his hips.

“He means it ironically,” Coach Rowland said, putting his hand on the principal’s shoulder, “he’s in disbelief.”

Eddie reached for the costume with grabby hands. “Gimme!”

The kid holding the costume handed it over while the other kid held on to the head. Eddie unfurled the costume with unbridled glee. It was Toby the Tiger. The school’s mascot. He remembered when he was freshman and even his sophomore year that they had someone perform in it, though these days it was usually a cheerleader who was injured and would just clap and cheer.

Principal Higgins blinked at him in confused shock. “You want to be the school mascot?” He couldn’t fathom why anyone would want to be in the smelly costume making a fool of themselves in front of others on a daily. It was a literal nightmare of his.

“I would prefer to be on the cheerleaders’ squad,” Eddie admitted, looking at the costume with unholy glee, “but this is a very cool consolation prize.”

“Ah.” Principal Higgins still didn’t understand but he recognized enthusiasm when he saw it and he wasn’t about to dissuade him if he truly wanted to do it.

Coach Miller stuck out her hand. “Welcome to the squad, I can’t wait to see what you can do!”

Eddie shook her hand.

Coach Rowland turned to the assembled crowd. “Shows over, guys! I’m sure you have better things to do with your time than stare at a dude in a mini-skirt.”

Eddie twirled the skirt and popped his ankle. “I thought I looked cute! Green sooo looks good on me.”

Coach Miller shook her head. “Go hit the showers and then we’ll start with weights to train you how to do those moves in the costume.”

Eddie leapt into the air and cheered. “Go Tigers!”

~

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

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8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @beelze-the-bubkiss

[nancywheelesbian]

Steve having a crush on the guy who runs the kids DnD group so he does stuff like helps them paint figures and showing up early to pick them up to give himself a chance to be charming. But Eddie thinks everything he does is some way of asserting his claim as the kids favorite and reacts to all of it with “ugh Harrington’s such an asshole I hate that mf”

[corrodedbisexual]

Diversion

Pre-Steddie | T | ~3.3k | AO3 link

Featuring: Angst and Fluff, Hopeful Ending, Post-Stranger Things 2, High School, Brave & Protective Steve Harrington, Eddie Has a Crush on Steve, Smoking, Skipping Class, Getting to Know Each Other, Pre-Relationship, POV Eddie Munson

Warnings: Canon-Typical Violence, Choking (not the sexy kind), Homophobic Language, Billy Hargrove is His Own Warning

Eddie’s done it now. Crossed a line. Hargrove genuinely looks like he might murder Eddie on the spot, and nobody is doing anything to stop him. He tries to struggle, tries to pry Billy’s arm off of his neck, but to no avail; that only makes him press down harder. Eddie’s lungs start to burn, his muscles growing weak, vision going dark. He’s completely fucked. And then, a voice booms over the ruckus, from behind the crowd of jocks, causing everyone to look around to its source. It sounds vaguely familiar. “Munson! That green piece of shit van yours?” Eddie's mouth gets him in serious trouble; thankfully, out of nowhere, Steve Harrington intervenes in a rather creative way. Written for @steddielovemonth day 10 prompt: locker

In hindsight, Eddie should have kept his mouth shut and kept walking, right past Billy Hargrove. But he was already in a terrible mood. The day started with him getting another F in Math, for forgetting his homework, which he’d actually fucking spent two hours on last night dammit and then left it on his desk. Then at lunch, his coke can exploded on his shirt, thankfully black, but it still left him damp and sticky and incredibly annoyed.

And now, fucking Hargrove, yapping the most insane bullshit to a small crowd of his devoted bootlickers from the basketball team.

“There he goes, the fucking pervert of Forest Hills! D’you guys wanna know what I witnessed this morning? So I’m walking to my car, and I happen to glance at Munson’s trailer, and seriously, I thought I’d puke. There’s the Freak, in the window, buck naked, swinging his ugly dick around. There are children all ‘round, mind you, all heading to school. My little sister could have seen! Absolutely disgusting, I’m telling you.”

Eddie stops in his tracks, his face burning. What the fuck kind of crap for brains was this guy born with? It’s complete bullshit, obviously. Eddie doesn’t exactly remember this morning, he’s usually barely conscious until he’s had coffee, and maybe his blinds were open when he was getting dressed, but Hargrove’s insinuations are absolutely unhinged. Eddie’s blood boils, and he makes a very stupid, very reckless, decision to turn around and speak up.

“Did you get a good look then, Billy?”

“Huh?” Hargrove pauses mid-laughter and lifts his eyebrows, as if surprised that Eddie actually faced him.

“Well, if you’ve seen enough of my dick to make a judgment on its ugliness. Did you use binoculars? Take your time, enjoy the view?”

It’s fucking suicidal, he knows. He can tell Hargrove’s about to pounce, stance widening, the vein on his temple pulsating. He should run, but instead, for some reason, he keeps running his mouth.

“And also, prey tell, if my dick is so ugly, what sorts of dicks do you find pretty? Do you like ‘em longer? Uncut, maybe?”

The jock crowd actually finds his comments hilarious; some of them snort, hiding it behind their palms. That doesn’t save Eddie. That only makes it worse, if anything, because the next second, he’s being slammed back against the lockers so hard it knocks all breath out of him.

“You calling me a faggot, you fucking perverted piece of trash?” Hargrove snarls, spit flying in Eddie’s face, barely giving him a chance to inhale before he shoves his forearm against Eddie’s throat.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Eddie’s weird brain still comes up with a funny retort about Billy being into choking guys. But he’d need to be able to breathe to actually say something, and if he’s honest with himself, the situation isn’t funny at all.

Eddie’s done it now. Crossed a line. Hargrove genuinely looks like he might murder Eddie on the spot, and nobody is doing anything to stop him. Hagan actually keeps goading him, cackling over his shoulder, smirking cruelly when Eddie briefly meets his eyes.

He tries to struggle, tries to pry Billy’s arm off of his neck, but to no avail; that only makes him press down harder. Eddie’s lungs start to burn, his muscles growing weak, vision going dark. He’s completely fucked.

And then, a voice booms over the ruckus, from behind the crowd of jocks, causing everyone to look around to its source. It sounds vaguely familiar.

“Munson! That green piece of shit van yours?”

Hargrove also turns around, dropping his arm from Eddie’s throat, and Eddie coughs, struggling to catch his breath, relieved at the momentary reprieve. Although it seems like he just got out of the frying pan and straight into the fire, because Steve Harrington is suddenly in front of him, his brows furrowed.

“Do you park with your fucking eyes closed?”

Billy lifts his eyebrows, watching with mild curiosity as Harrington takes his spot in front of Eddie, glaring at him and slamming him against the locker with his forearm against Eddie’s chest. It’s not his neck, at least, and Eddie takes that opportunity to take big gulps of air, practically feeling the much needed oxygen filling every cell of his body.

And for a second there, as Harrington is right up in his face, the anger slips away from his features.

“Play along,” he whispers, barely audible, enunciating with his lips only, before the frown is back on, and he slaps his palm against the locker by Eddie’s head, the loud clang nearly deafening. “You scratched my goddamn car, asshole!”

Eddie flinches, squeezing his eyes shut for a second, can’t help it. The curious jocks behind Harrington cackle and jeer, someone starting a crescendo of “ooooohhh” that immediately gets picked up by the rest. Animals, all of them.

Eddie’s not sure what the fuck is going on, but he doesn’t really need to play anything, he’s still mildly terrified, and extremely confused. He feels other things, too, at being pressed into the locker by Steve fucking Harrington, and he’s deeply ashamed about it, just prays that his stupid body won’t betray him and make the situation infinitely worse.

And then realization dawns on him that Steve isn’t actually pressing his arm down. Even that initial push that made Eddie hit the lockers with his back was half-hearted, nothing like when Hargrove did it. And now Harrington’s just holding his arm there, against Eddie’s chest, making it look like he’s pinning Eddie when he’s really not. Eddie can breathe freely.

What is Harrington doing?

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, man,” Eddie chokes out, completely honestly.

“Oh yeah?” Steve narrows his eyes and then grabs Eddie by the shoulder, bunching up the fabric of his vest in his fist, and physically pushes him in the direction of the school entrance. Insistently, yet not so hard that Eddie could loose his footing. “Let’s go then, I’ll show ya what I’m talking about, Munson. You’re paying for this.”

The crowd parts in front of Harrington, letting them both through. Play along, Eddie remembers, still rather puzzled by this turn of events but deciding it’s his best strategy for now.

“Hey, Harrington!” They both turn around at the sound of Billy’s voice. Eddie feels a chill run down his spine. “In case you didn’t notice, Munson and I were in the middle of a… conversation.”

His eyes are cold, cruel. It’s just now that the difference between him and Steve strikes Eddie. Harrington did look convincingly pissed when he confronted him, but he wasn’t looking at Eddie like he wanted him dead.

“Well, can your conversation wait?” Steve bites back in a bitchy tone. He turns to Eddie. “Munson, do you mind?”

Eddie shakes his head rapidly. Between Harrington and Hargrove, he knows what the smart pick is. He’s pretty sure he never scratched the guy’s Beemer. Doesn’t even remember it being nearby when he parked this morning. And even if he did, he could easily buy his way out of that situation; fixing a scratch isn’t too expensive, business has been good this month.

Billy doesn’t look very happy at this turn of events. His glare bores into Eddie before shifting back to Steve. His pack of goons stands behind him, ready to jump in at a moment’s notice. Hargrove steps closer, getting up in Harrington’s face, cocking his head with that disgusting arrogant smirk.

“Oh, of course, if His Majesty King Steve demands it,” he says in a mocking tone. “I’m sure his royal affairs are more important.”

The jocks laugh. Eddie feels a push against his shoulder, realizes Steve stopped holding onto him and actually nudged at him to take a step away as he’s facing Billy, hands flexing at his sides but otherwise showing no emotion. Which is… sort of impressive, given that the bruises Hargrove apparently left him with a couple of weeks back are still very prominent on his face, even when faded to a yellowish-brown.

“What?” Steve deadpans, squares his shoulders. “Do we have a problem here, buddy? Shall we move this to the cafeteria? Lots of plates in there. Or you could stab me with a fork, just to change things up.”

Something flashes across Billy’s face, and for a second there, Eddie’s convinced he’s about to swing at Steve. But then he takes a step back with a frankly maniacal grin, shrugging and holding his arms up in a non-threatening gesture.

“Naaah, we’re good, Harrington,” he drawls out lazily, like he’s suddenly bored, can’t be bothered to continue this confrontation. “Go deal with your car thing. ‘83 Beemer, right?” He asks, sounding almost innocent, perfectly civil.

“Yeah,” Steve replies.

“Sweet ride. Can’t let him get away with it.” Billy bores his eyes into Eddie, grin still on his face. “If you ever scratch my Camaro I’ll bury you, Freak.”

“Duly noted,” Eddie mumbles, Steve’s hand already on his upper arm and dragging him outside.

Harrington lets go of him only after they round a corner, out of sight from the entrance now. He stops and leans back against the wall, blowing out a long, relieved exhale before he looks at Eddie.

“You got smokes, dude?”

“Uh… sure?”

Harrington wordlessly holds out his hand, expectant, and Eddie moves on autopilot. Fishes the crumpled pack out of his jacket pocket, takes out two cigarettes, holds one between his lips and passes the other to Steve. Lights up, then hands Steve the lighter as well.

“Thanks,” Harrington says, cupping one hand around the cigarette to shield it from a sudden gust of wind as he lights it.

For a minute, they just smoke in silence. Eddie’s thoughts are running through his head at a dizzying speed.

“Um,” he finally speaks up, glancing at Steve. “I didn’t scratch your car. Right?” His voice still sounds hoarse. He clears his throat; it's kind of painful. 

“No,” Harrington snorts, tilting his head up to blow out the smoke in a very attractive manner; Eddie turns away as he realizes he’s staring. “But I figured you could, with the way you usually drive. It was believable.”

Eddie’s heart skips a beat. Did Steve actually just invent the whole thing just to… get him out of a fight with Hargrove? He runs the whole sequence of events through his head again. Play along, the arm not really pressing against him. Harrington facing Billy, pushing Eddie out of the way. Would Steve fight Billy for him? The idea of that seems completely insane.

“If I just tried to stop him he wouldn’t let it go,” Steve clarifies, interpreting Eddie’s silence as confusion. “We’d both be fucked. So I improvised.”

Holy shit. Eddie’s at a loss for words. He might actually swoon. Both from the adrenaline leaving his body, making him tremble a little, and the thought of Steve Harrington defending him.

“You gotta be careful with Billy, man,” Harrington warns, sounding very serious. “He’s not… not like Tommy. He’s not even Carver. Hargrove’s a fucking psychopath. He could actually kill you.”

Eddie finds no reason not to believe him. He’s seen firsthand the look in Hargrove’s eyes. Eddie touches a hand to his throat; he actually thinks it’s not impossible that Billy would choke him to death if Steve didn’t intervene. Harrington’s absolutely right; this might have been the dumbest thing Eddie’s ever done. He’s definitely not out of the woods, he’ll need to avoid Hargrove as much as possible for the foreseeable future, because there’s no way what he said would be easily forgotten.

And also, it sounds like Steve is speaking from experience. Eddie wonders, not for the first time, what happened between those two; the rumors have been wild and contradicting.

“Yeah, I bet.” He sighs, leaning against the wall next to Steve and taking another drag from his cigarette. “And I’m guessing none of his bootlickers would testify against him.”

“Even if they did, you’d be dead, so that’s not much of a comfort, is it?”

“Well. At least I’d die knowing Steeeve Harrington tried to save me. My knight in shining armor.” Eddie grins, trying to lighten the grim mood, to no avail.

Harrington gives him a blank look and slowly shakes his head.

“Not funny, Eddie.”

“Sorry.” Eddie ducks his head, the smile falling from his lips.

He realizes he hasn’t actually thanked Steve — for maybe, quite probably, saving his fucking life. And let the record show, Eddie Munson is not an ungrateful man.

“Uhm. Thanks, by the way. Really smart move, back there. I was only half-joking about the knight in shining armor, you know. That was… pretty damn heroic of you, Steve.”

Steve’s face softens, and he nods at Eddie. He tosses the butt to the ground and steps on it.

“Yeah, it’s… whatever. You’re welcome.”

“Why, though?” Eddie asks the question that’s been in the forefront of his mind this whole conversation.

Harrington stares at him, unblinking.

“Why did I not idly stand by and watch that psycho choke the life out of you, like the rest of those shitheads?” Steve’s voice is filled to the brim with sarcasm. “I don’t know, Munson, maybe because I’m trying to be a decent guy? I figured getting in the way of possible murder might be a crucial step.”

Eddie thinks on his words as he kills his own cigarette against the bricks behind him. He didn’t mean to offend the guy, it’s really just baffling, the whole situation.

“You’re doing pretty well at that,” he says, shrugging.

“What?”

Eddie gives him a lopsided smile.

“Being a decent guy.”

Finally, that draws a genuine smile out of Harrington. He even looks almost bashful, ducking his head, a faint shade of pink coloring his cheeks.

“Uhm. Thanks.”

They stand together in silence for a moment. It’s not particularly awkward, nor is it exactly comfortable. A weird middle ground.

“Fuck this place,” Steve suddenly says, turning to Eddie. “I’m skipping last period. Wanna join?”

“Me?” Eddie lifts his eyebrows, pointing to his own chest.

Harrington looks around theatrically.

“Anyone else ‘round here I could be speaking to?” He chuckles. “Yeah, you.”

Eddie doesn’t even remember what class they’re supposed to have. He frankly doesn’t care. Golden boy Steve Harrington is skipping, and inviting him to join? Like hell is he going to miss this opportunity.

“Sure,” he nods, an excited grin slowly splitting his face. “Amen to fuck this place.”

Steve matches his grin and tugs on his shoulder, patting his back twice as they start walking towards the parking lot. He’s a touchy guy, Eddie’s realized. Must be a jock thing; he can’t take it personally. Definitely shouldn’t take it personally.

“Let’s take my car,” Steve says. “If anyone asks, we went to Bob’s Repairs, you paid for the work. Gotta stick to the story, right?” He smirks.

Eddie nods. It’s a flawless plan.

***

That’s how Eddie finds himself in Steve Harrington’s infamous Beemer, on the side of a dirt road just out of town, after a brief visit to a drive-through. They’re both chewing on their burgers, a large serving of fries sitting on the console between them that they take turns reaching for.

It’s most definitely not a date, Eddie tells his stupid overeager heart. They’re just hanging out, obviously. But it’s still nice. And still feels surreal.

They chat about school, about plans for the future. How Steve isn’t sure what he’s even going to do when he graduates; he actively doesn’t wanna work for his dad, but he doesn’t know what he’ll do otherwise. Eddie’s not even sure he will graduate, judging by his record of staying behind for another senior year. At least he knows for sure what he wants to do; music. Making music is everything he’s ever wanted. He could just drop out and do it, Steve points out; and he’s right, but Eddie promised Wayne. That he’ll at least try and earn his diploma.

Steve tells him the story of how he ended up getting knocked out by Hargrove; how apparently the fucking racist psycho was after a black kid that his sister was hanging out with, and Steve wasn’t having it. How Billy played dirty and was actually losing the fight (go Steve!) until he smashed a plate on Steve’s head (oh no). Eddie feels chills down his spine, remembering the arm against his own throat. Yeah, the guy is definitely insane, and very dangerous. He’s very lucky that Harrington decided to step in.

“I actually wanted to ask a favor of you,” Steve says when he’s finished his burger, licking ketchup and grease off of his fingers — Eddie tries really hard not to stare.

“Uhm. Yeah? Sure, anything. I mean, you saved my ass back there, man, pretty sure I owe you multiple favors now.”

“You know Max, Billy’s stepsister?”

“Yeah, ‘course I know Max. She’s chill. Cool skateboard.”

“She intervened, that night. Talk about saving ass,” Steve laughs, although not happily, “she definitely saved mine. Knocked Hargrove out with a tranquilizer syringe.”

Eddie blinks. “She what now— Where’d she even get that?!”

“Long story. Anyway, she keeps telling me things are fine, that Billy avoids her now, probably embarrassed he got bested by a goddamn 13-year-old. And she says he’s never raised a hand against her. But I still worry. I mean… you’ve seen him. Who knows what’s going on in there,” Steve taps at his own temple. “So just… keep an eye on Max, would ya? I mean, you’re neighbors. I know she can’t always rely on her mom, and I’m not always around either.”

Eddie nods. Susan Hargrove’s drinking isn’t exactly a secret in Forest Hills.

“Of course,” he promises, feeling warmth in his chest at how fondly Steve speaks about a bunch of kids. Clearly cares about them. It’s incredibly sweet.

“You got a pen?” Steve asks, already grabbing a napkin from the food bag.

Eddie does; there’s always one somewhere in his endless pockets. He hands it to Harrington, heart already picking up its pace as he watches Steve write down a series of digits.

“Call me, if anything happens,” Steve says, passing the napkin to Eddie. “Like, even if you hear shouting or something.”

Eddie holds the napkin almost reverently, running his eyes across Steve Harrington’s phone number several times, memorizing it. Just in case he loses it; although like hell he will. He puts the napkin in his secret inner pocket, shoving it down as deep as it can go.

“Or, uh,” Steve keeps talking; Eddie glances at him and watches him fiddle with the pen, clicking it repeatedly. Like he’s nervous. “Just call me. If you wanna hang out again or something.” Dear god, Eddie’s heart is about to burst. “I mean, this was… nice,” Steve looks up, smiling at him uncertainly.

“Yeah. Sure,” Eddie quickly nods, hoping his face isn’t as red as it feels. “I’d love to. You’re… you’re a cool dude, Steve Harrington.”

He immediately winces at how lame the compliment sounded; but Steve only laughs, obviously happy with Eddie’s response.

"You're not so bad yourself," he says, looking right at him, a gunshot to Eddie's poor heart; then turns the key in the ignition to take them back to the school’s parking lot, which should be relatively empty by now.

The whole drive back, Eddie keeps unconsciously touching the inner pocket where the precious napkin with Steve’s phone number lies. He can’t stop smiling, and even if Harrington is tragically straight, just the chance of becoming friends with him is more than Eddie could ever bargain for.

If you enjoyed the fic please consider feeding kudos to the author ^^

Divider by @strangergraphics

[nandatjl63]

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^ I hate Steve's parents