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apomaro-mellow · 10 months

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Steve's parents compete to matchmake him with someone 1/?

Jonas and Diane Harrington sat in silence as their son's confession hung in the air. They'd met homosexuals before. You didn't travel as much as they did and not meet different people. But it had never occurred to them that someone so close to them - that their own son might be...

"Can you guys say something? Please?", Steve begged.

"Oh honey...", his mom started. "...Was Tommy?"

"What?", Steve pulled back at that. "Tommy? And me? Me and Tommy? No. We were never like that. Ever."

"Well, good for you son. You can do better", his father said, leaning back in his chair a little.

"He was so smarmy. You deserve someone who'll actually take care of you", Diane said, putting her hand on top of Steve's.

He looked down at the point of contact. "What's happening here?"

"Well, you being, you know, in your way, doesn't change our conversation", Jonas said. "We still think you need to stop sleeping around and find someone to be a little more serious with."

Diane nodded. "It's not good when all the gossip at the hairdresser's is about who your son is messing around with. Oh! What about Matthew?"

Steve raised a brow. "Your hairdresser?"

"Not mine, but he did fix me up when we were in New York, you remember the gala? He's nice, worldly-"

"I'm sorry", Steve interrupted. "I just told you guys for the first time ever that I'm gay, and you immediately try to set me up with someone?"

"Your love life is getting out of hand", Jonas said. He leaned forward and tented his hands on the table. "There's bets down at the bar. On who you're gonna knock up first."

"But if you're gay, we don't need to worry about surprise babies, right hon?", Diane smiled.

"Actually, I have a question about that now", Jonas started before his wife sent him a glare. "But we can save that for later. Point is, you need to hold on to someone for longer than a week."

Steve shook his head. "I can't believe my parents are talking to me about dating. What makes you think I can even get a guy? Can't exactly put the moves on them like I normally would."

His parents looked to each other, proving that neither of them really had an answer. With a sigh, Steve asked to be excused and when they granted permission, he went up to his room.

"Our Steve...a...a queer", Diane whispered.

"You think it's because I made him play football when he was a kid?", Jonas asked.

Diane shrugged. "If anything it's because of all those musicals we watched together. Then she released a heavy breath. It couldn't have been easy for Steve to tell them. And it couldn't have been easy for him to go on all those dates with those girls.

And if the rumors were true, he'd done more than date them. Jonas reached out and grabbed his wife's hand. From the moment their son had been born, all they had wanted was for him to be happy and healthy. Sometimes the healthy part meant leaving him for extended periods of time. Clearly, he'd been left on his own for too long. Surely they would have caught onto this sooner if they'd been around more, been involved more.

"What are we going to do?", Diane asked.

"You and I knew what we were going to do when we started this conversation", Jonas said, standing up from the table and putting his hands on his hips as he paced about the kitchen.

"Jonas, we can't give him Noelle's number now."

"Not Noelle, we just switch gears. Find a...a Nolan instead", Jonas decided, nodding as if to convince himself.

"Jonas, even if we can find another gay guy in this town, how do we know Steve will like him?"

"I know my son, I've got a decent idea what he likes."

Diane shook her head. “You just don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I don’t know what I’m talking about?”, Jonas questioned. “What, I can’t see what makes a man attractive?”

“Not the way Steven would. I think I understand this a little better than you.”

Jonas’ hands went to his hips. “Oh you do? You think I can’t find our son a date? You don’t think I know a handsome man when I see one?”

“Name one then”, she challenged.

“….Robert Redford.”

She crossed her arms, unimpressed. "Easy shot. Now name five that are actually our son's age."

Jonas looked put out and rolled his eyes. There was...there had to be some rock star, who was Steve listening to nowadays? Did he have a poster of someone? Who was in the movies? Maybe he had mentioned a boy at school at some point?

"Well, the bar is very high Diane. Steven is obviously the best looking boy at his school."

Diane grinned and stood up. "Was. He graduated, remember?"

"How can I forget? The grays won't stop coming."

Steve's graduation had been what had sparked this evening. Not getting into college, their son had seemed directionless. And messing around with too many girls had been the cherry on top. They had agreed to a gap year for him if he could use the time to get his relationships in check.

If he was into men, that made it slightly more challenging, but they wanted to give Steve the freedom to find himself. It was more than either of them had ever had. And what good was all the money if they couldn't spoil him a little.

"So, maybe I don't know what he's into. Doesn't mean I can't find him a good guy", Jonas said.

Diane wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek. "You do know a good thing when you see one."

They went upstairs to check in on their son only to find him halfway out the window with a packed duffle bag.

"I'm sorry", he said, leg hanging out. "There's just no way you guys were this cool about this."

"For god's sakes Steve, get back in here", Jonas grumbled, grabbing his son before he cracked his head on the ground.

"Believe it or not, your parents are capable of higher brain functioning", Diane said, already setting to unpacking the bag and putting the clothes away. "Some of this stuff doesn't even fit you anymore", she noted as she looked through his closet.

"Hey, how's about we all take a trip to the mall tomorrow?", Jonas suggested. "Refresh our wardrobes for the summer!"

"Oh that sounds perfect!", Diane agreed. "It's been a while since we Harringtons turned heads as a group."

Steve sat on the edge of his bed, looking tense, yet hopeful. "You guys don't...you don't think I'm any different? You don't...", his voice got small, "hate me?"

"Oh Steven!", his mother wailed and sat next to him in a rush, holding onto him tightly as she cried.

Jonas cleared his throat. "Di, there's no need for tears. There's nothing sad happening."

"I'm not crying because of Steve", she said defensively. "I was thinking about Matthew. I really hope he and Otis worked it out. And that he knows he always has family who love him. And that even if the world beats him black and blue he can always come home, okay? Always, you can always come home."

"Yeah mom, I know", Steve said, eyes wet as he got her thinly veiled meaning.

Jonas sniffed and patted Steve's shoulder. "And if the world does decide to put its hands on you, remember your old man's got mob connections."

Steve gave a watery laugh at that but thanked him anyway when his mom lit up in recognition.

"Oh! What about Ricci?"

"Ricci? For Steve? Get outta here", Jonas waved her off.

"Who is Ricci?", Steve asked.

"He's a nice boy", Diane answered.

"He's a numbskull is what he is. I'll do business with the mob, but I'm not giving them my son", Jonas said as he walked towards the door.

"Who said anything about giving? His family's well off, he can take Steve nice places", Diane said as she followed him.

Jonas threw his hands up in derision. "Mobsters are like five year olds with their dames. Once they lick it, it's theirs."

"OKAY good night!", Steve closed his door to shut out the rest of their talk.

"We're going to the mall at ten, honey! Be ready for breakfast", his mother called out, then continued her conversation with his dad. Probably debating whether or not to set him up with a closeted senator's son.

Steve rubbed his face and let out a sigh. He'd confessed tonight to get any talk of girls out of the way for the summer.

Mission accomplished?

Part 2 coming soon

#apo writes #stranger things #fanfiction #steve harrington #let's mix it up and give steve nice parents #this will eventually be steddie #but eddie's not here yet

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lazylittledragon · 11 months

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christening my new ipad with alt dads >:))

#steddie #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie dads #it would’ve been enter sandman but it wasn’t out yet #he looks so dad here i’m insane

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sp0o0kylights · 2 months

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Wayne takes in a Beat to Shit Steve Harrington after Starcourt as n Owed Favor to Hopper Part 4

Part Three: link

First Chapter (parts 1-3 on tumblr) on A03: Link

The kid was madder than a wet hen.

Just as slippery as one too, when he got like this--music pulsing like a living thing to signal all his rage and upset.

Not like Wayne hadn’t expected it.

He just wished it wasn’t quite so damn loud.

The music had started up almost immediately after Eddie had stormed to his room, startling Steve awake and nearly making Wayne curse for it.

Normally it was a good thing--music meant Eds was willing to listen instead of heading for the hills.

Normally, they didn't have a house guest who looked like he'd gone ten rounds with a bear.

They had a routine for this, was the thing and the music was a key part of it. It worked all the edges off for Wayne, and he'd long figured out that about thirty minutes was a the perfect length of time for Eddie to stew before he could actually talk things through.

Given the hand Harrington put to his forehead, Wayne wasn't eager to give him that thirty minutes.

Not when Steve deserved little peace he could have.

Unfortunately, so did Eds.

Still.

Strutting through the door and demanding to talk right now was a bad move and so, with a sympathetic look given to Steve, Wayne did what he did best

Gave space.

Let Eddie rage, as Wayne got up and shuffled about the kitchen.

Pulled out the soft earplugs he pretended weren’t there for Eds to steal (playing that damn loud guitar all the time could not be good for his ears) and offered them to Steve, before making two cups of what Wayne privately thought was the Munson “chitchat” drink.

One cup of hot water, one packet swiss miss, a small amount of maple syrup drizzled in, topped with little marshmallows they reserved for these types of situations.

Wayne took his time with it, thinking through what he wanted to say.

‘I understand that this is a screen door on a submarine kind of situation...’

Nope.

‘Son I know you hate listening to anyone for anything but this is serious...’

Absolutely not--that would end up with the boy bolting for sure.

‘Ed’s, I love you but could we please turn Ozzy off while we talk? That man wails louder than any damn cat I have ever met.’

That one was purely self indulgent, mostly because the wall was starting to shake.

Wayne put the finishing touches on the cocoa before staring at both of them.

Perhaps if he stared the Garfield mug in its eyes hard enough, the right words would come through.

They did not.

He kept trying, standing there long enough for the cocoa to reasonably have cooled and for Eddie’s song to flip over to something with more screaming in it than singing.

Wayne supposed that this was the hardest part of being a parent. You just didn’t get to have the magical one liner. The right thing to say at just the right time.

The joke that would ease all the tension and let things progress forward nice and easy.

Instead, you got to fumble your way through the dark with a flashlight up your ass and hope you were going in the right-ish direction. Ideally without making things worse.

Wayne was here though, and that had to count for something.

(Knew it counted for something--because Eddie was still here.

They had cleared hurdles far higher than this when it came to trust. They’d get through this too, come what may.

Steve too.)

“Can I just ask,” Eddie started, aggressive as always when Wayne finally gave in and entered his room, feeling all sorts of awful for the migraine Steve had to have, “what the absolute fuck is happening?”

Sure as fire he was sitting on his bed, leg bouncing a mile a minute.

An unlit cigarette hung between two fingers, looking a little chewed on, but otherwise undisturbed--as it should be, because one of Wayne’s few rules was that smoke stayed outside the house.

“You could.” Wayne said loudly but agreeably, as he turned himself around and dropped down next to his kid.

Held out the Garfield mug, and was happy when it was taken from him.

“Figured you might have other things to say, though.”

Likely a lot of things.

It was as good an opening as any, and his kid didn’t disappoint, launching right to it.

“Why is he here and not at a hospital?”

‘Here’ was punctuated by Ed’s hand winging towards the door, and while it wasn’t the righteous fury Wayne expected, it was at least, an easy answer to give.

“Steve has some people looking for him. Bad people. Hospital makes him an easy target.”

Wayne was still talking loud. Could only hear Eddie himself because he was looking at the kid’s lips more than he was actually hearing his voice.

Eddie took that in, swallowing it about as well as he’d swallowed anything he hadn’t liked.

And thank the stars above, he finally reached a hand out and turned the music down. Not a lot--Steve wouldn’t be able to hear them over all this--but enough that Wayne didn’t have to struggle.

“We’re hiding him from the cops now?!” Ed’s spat.

“Cops know he’s here. Hopper’s the one who asked me to take him.” Wayne reminded him, because it was the truth.

Not the full truth, but given how Ed’s pissed off half the local PD on a good day, Wayne absolutely did not want to see his nephew take on Federal Agents.

(Particularly not the kind who were going ‘round killing kids.)

“So--what?” Eddie yanked hard on his hair, a gesture that looked less intentional and more like he was trying to fight his own anger down. “Hopper just called you up and said ‘Hey, we had a whoopsie with the rich kid, the hospital’s not safe anymore. Can we stash him with you for a few days?”

Wayne nodded once, slow-like.

Always remembered how too fast movements had made Eddie flinch and jerk back when was littler, and given the way Steve was looking, figured it was a good time to be cautious again.

“He did.”

“And you just--agreed? Just like that!?”

“I did.”

He pretended not to see Eddie boggle at him at the simple admission, so furious that he seemed to struggle for words when he normally had too many to say.

Wayne took advantage.

“We did talk a bit more than that, I’ll admit.”

Ed’s scoffed. “About the weather I’m sure.”

“‘Bout trust.”

Eddie blinked at that.

“Trust.” He echoed flatly.

“What have I always told you? People like to ask you to trust them, but you they don’t get to have it until--”

“They provide proof or a reason.” Eddie finished with an eyeroll. “So which did Hopper provide then?”

Wayne took a noisy sip of his coca. Smacked his lips a little before saying: “Both.”

Didn’t bother to say anything else, because he knew Eddie would finish the thought for him.

“One of them was me, wasn’t it.”

Eds didn’t say it like a question, but Wayne hummed in agreement anyway.

He wasn’t gonna shame his boy, but he wasn’t gonna sugar coat Eddie’s involvement in this either. Not when he’d already admitted that was half the reason Hopper had gone to Wayne to begin with.

“No one is expecting Steve to be here.” He said, seeing the chance to hammer home the most important part of this entire shitshow. “So long as no one finds out he’s here, he’ll be safe. Everyone will be safe.”

Steve from the Feds who were hunting him for while he was busy being involved in shit he couldn’t control and Eddie because he had a mouth that most people didn’t like.

Not small town people anyway, and absolutely not authority figures with guns.

“Who’s even after him?” Eddie was theatrical as always, hands waving away as he talked. “Did he make a deal with the mob? Piss off some other rich guy? I know it’s not anything drug related, I’d have heard about it by now.”

After years of experience, Wayne knew exactly how far to lean away to stay out of range, too used to his nephew talking with his entire body.

“That’s his story to tell ya, Ed’s. It ain’t mine. Same way it ain’t my place to tell him your story.”

That at least got the boy to think for a minute. Put down that frustration he carried with him all the time, and use the brain they both knew he had.

“How long is he staying here?”

Wayne shrugged. “Don’t know.”

Eddie sighed and mockingly mimicked Wayne, taking an obnoxious slurp of his cocoa. “The neighbors are going to notice if he’s here more than a few days. The trailer park isn’t exactly big.”

“They didn’t notice that time you decided to make fireballs with the cooking spray and about blew up half the driveway. Don’t think they’re gonna notice someone being quiet in the house.”

Eddie snorted, and probably rolled his eyes again, not that Wayne could see it given the kid was looking into his own mug as he thought it all through.

Wayne sat with him as he processed.

Eds worked at his own pace with things, and while life at large might be against that, Wayne was happy to let him do it. Found it easier that way, then trying to poke and prod and force him like so many father figures did.

Wayne’s patience was rewarded not even a full minute later, when Eddie turned to him and asked;

“What if he finds out?”

This in a quieter voice. An unsure one--words and body hunching in a way unlike the Eddie the world outside knew, but very much like the little boy Wayne had brought inside his home.

It took Wayne a moment to connect the dots--he’d been speaking out of the place parents and authority figures often do, and in doing so hadn’t thought much of the fact his nephew had a real secret.

The kind small town minds didn’t like--and would kill him over.

This all wasn’t about Wayne taking in Steve, he realized abruptly. It was that Steve being here meant Eddie couldn’t be himself.

Could not relax in a place he was accepted for who he was, because Wayne knew and made sure Eddie understood he was wanted here, had a place here, regardless of who he loved.

Now, Wayne had gone and removed it.

‘Shit.’

“He won’t.” Wayne said.

Knew that wasn’t enough, and so, promised: “But if he does, I’ll make sure he understands his safety here relies on your own.”

Ed’s chin jerked in a nod, the two of them sitting in silence for a moment before the boy did as he often did when he wanted a hug but felt too awkward to ask for one, and tipped himself into Wayne’s side.

“Thanks old man.” Eddie whispered into his shoulder and not for the first time, Wayne wished things were easier for the poor kid as he put his mug in one hand and hugged his kid with the other.

Hoped that in the future, it would be.

Even if he had to force everyone and everything coming after him--and now Steve--to do it.

(Wondered vaguely, how bad it was that he was already getting as protective as Steve as he was of his own kid.

Probably very, given his kid clearly hated Harrington.)

xXx

Wayne took the first night of Steve’s stay off.

He wasn’t the type to use his PTO lightly. Was used to rationing it for any possible thing Eddie might need him for.

A night up sick when he was younger, to a night spent chasing him down during some of their bad spots--but the last year or so Wayne had slowly realized he hadn’t had to use it much.

He was still careful with it though, precious as it was, and was thankful for it now as it ensured his nephew didn’t murder their house guest.

Or at the very least, didn't sit there pecking at him.

The kid might've failed English a few times, but he had a real gift with words and an even better one with insults.

(Wayne wasn't quite clear on what all the "King" jabs were about, and absolutely did not get why Steve looked far more hurt at the comment about his "sad ass floppy hair" but given the increasingly flat look Steve was throwing Eddie's way, Wayne figured it couldn't be anything good.)

Thankfully a pointed reminder about Steve's injuries had finally gotten them all some peace, enough for Harrington to drop back to sleep--and for Wayne to realize he looked a little too dead while he did it to be comfortable getting any sleep himself.

The kids chest barely moved, and that it ate at Wayne’s until he got up and shoved a hand under his nose.

Felt his breath, and told himself the poor sod was fine.

Hurt, absolutely, but alive.

Over and over again, until the sun had made its rotation in the sky, bringing the morning with it.

‘Better than nightmares, I suppose.’ Wayne figured, as exhaustion scraped at his eyelids.

Those Wayne knew, would come later. When Steve’s brain caught up to the rest of him, and stopping dumping survival chemicals through his battered body.

He'd given up on sleep entirely sometime around 1 am, and now he sat at his small kitchen table, writing out a medication schedule for Harrington so he and the kid both knew when he could have his next Tylenol.

Wasn’t even halfway through it before Eddie made his typically late appearance and blew through his door.

Had his back up from the moment he’d stepped a foot in the kitchen and it didn’t take a genius to see he’d worked himself into a snit again.

Unfortunately for him, whatever scenario that imaginative brain of his had cooked up fell flat to the reality that was the poor kid on the couch.

Steve Harrington was one a hell of a sight.

Didn’t help that he was doing his level best to make himself as small as possible, curled deep into Wayne's ancient couch.

The blankets covered the ribs and hid away most of the damage, but there wasn’t much Steve could do to hide the shiners on his face--or the marks around his neck.

Not when they’d grown worse overnight, practically inviting questions.

It was almost laughable how quickly Eddie ate whatever words he’d prepared, mouth awkwardly chewing around them as if they were tangible.

The less-than-sneaky looks he threw at the younger teen were equally amusing, and if Wayne wasn’t trying to peace keep, he’d have given in and chuckled when Eds split attention caused him to pour half his coffee into the sink rather than a cup.

Looked utterly lost when, after finishing putting his coffee together and grabbing some junk food thing that absolutely was not a breakfast item, he came to stand awkwardly at Wayne's shoulder, openly staring as Steve blatantly ignored him.

Eds didn’t know what to do, and Wayne couldn't blame him.

Seemed to keep thinking he was going to encounter a boy that likely no longer existed, and whose blood tinged specter just made things sad.

Shit like this, Wayne knew, took a man’s ego and warped it, shaping it to something else entirely.

At least for Steve, it seemed that getting wrapped up in whatever mess he had had shaped him for the better, instead of pretzeling him into something worse. That, Wayne thought, spoke to the boy's character more than anything he’d done prior.

(It helped to know what Hopper tolerated and what he didn’t. That he’d vouched for Steve in the same way Wayne knew he’d vouched for Eddie, even if Eddie didn’t yet realize the cop he antagonized so much would do that for him.)

That didn't erase the history his kid had with Harrington, though.

Wouldn't stop him from seeing the old Steve, first.

‘Don’t you got school?” Wayne asked when he decided Ed had stared enough.

“Yeah, yeah.” Eddie waved him off, trotting out the door. “Bye old man, house parasite!”

It was clearly a jab, meant to nettle, but Steve barely acted like he heard it.

Wayne rolled his eyes.

“Goodbye, Eds.” He said firmly, much of a warning as he ever gave, and fondly watched his nephew scuttle out the door.

Turned to see how Steve was taking things, and was once again given a reminder that Steve wasn’t doing a hell of a lot other than feeling his injuries.

“I think I promised you a game, son.” Wayne said gently, startling Steve out of the distant, dim look he had trained on the wall.

It wasn’t a lot to offer in terms of a distraction, but it would have to do.

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watchyourbuck · 2 months

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the gay firefighters just got renewed for s8 yo

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neverevan · 3 months

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I lost him, Eddie. No, you saved him. That's how he remembers it.

#just some water trauma throwback before the premiere lmao #initially I only wanted to include the fun times but my hand slipped oops #also I swore I wouldn't make 911 sets and yet here we are ugh #the buckley diaz family #buddie #evan buckley #eddie diaz #christopher diaz #911 #911 3x01 #911 3x02 #911 3x03 #buddieedit #my stuff #my gif #911 abc #911edit #edits*

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stevebabey · 1 year

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ok brain whipped up this concept & would NOT leave it alone today so here. have this. this is like ‘started making it. had a breakdown. bon appétit’ in a steddie post for me but alas <3 cw: talks of past sexual coercion

Eddie is mad at Steve.

Which, honestly, might be the worst thing in the entire damn world for all Steve cares. The whole world feels just a little bit off kilter when Eddie’s mad at Steve — because Eddie just loooves the silent treatment.

He’ll usually make a show of it. Pout and stick out his bottom lip, cross his arms, maybe even give a stamp on his big booted feet. Doesn’t say what’s wrong, just glares sulkily. It’s a bit childish, they both know, but Eddie likes to be doted and Steve loves to do the doting — and it hasn’t caused any proper fights yet.

This time, however, he can tell Eddie is more mad than usual, because this time he hadn’t thrown the usual fuss. Instead, he’d just gone quiet. All glowers and glares. Not even a pout, and certainly not a peep.

And it’s just the worst because the version of Eddie that Steve knows best is a chatterbox. Can’t shut up, won’t shut up. Steve normally loves it.

And alright— maybe Steve deserved it for not picking him up after one of Eddie’s gigs. Especially because Eddie had specifically asked him too as well, considering his own van was in the shop.

But it’s not like Steve could control when his parents decided to waltz back into Hawkins!

They always seemed to run on their own timetable, or on what seemed like an entirely different orbit. Yet, they had no trouble roping Steve back into their routine, stuffing him back into a place, without any regard to his opinion on the matter. Which was exactly what they had done that evening.

But that didn’t really matter, Steve thinks with a sigh, because he knows it’s not really just because he didn’t pick Eddie up. It was because of what Steve said.

Gareth’s mom had swung by and while Eddie had gotten an eyeful of that suspicious look that followed him everywhere since the events of the Upside Down, Eddie had gotten home safely. Majorly annoyed but safe which was what mattered most.

He had then released his said-annoyance onto Steve.

But see, Steve was already tired from the prodding and lecturing of his parents. They’d been awfully disappointed to find he had yet to move on from his job at Family Video and worse, had badmouthed his choice of friends. Had brought up Tommy and the likes, asked pointedly why Steve hadn’t been seen with them in a few months.

Steve had bit his tongue to not spew out the fact he hadn’t been seen with Tommy for years and that was unlikely to change any time soon.

So, yeah, he was wound up. And Eddie was too. A bit too impatient, a bit too cut that he’d been on the receiving end of yet another scathing interaction because Steve had been so careless to forget to pick him up.

He’d said as much, jabbing a finger and dramatically reenacting the tense conversation he’d had to have with Gareth’s mother.

It had led to a spat, which led to an argument. Steve sat on the bed in Eddie’s trailer and toyed with a loose thread as Eddie pacing before him.

“You should’ve been there.”

“I know.” Steve ground out the words, eyes on the floor, feeling too much like he was still back home, still being lectured by his father about his good-for-nothing son. The thread was coming looser in his fingers with all his fiddling.

“You know? Is that all you’re gonna say?” Eddie asked, exasperated, but the moment Steve’s lip part to respond, Eddie had steamrolled on. Gareth’s awkward smile and his mother’s tight bunched up shoulders were still fresh in his memory.

“Great! That’s just fantastic, Steve. You knew and you still didn’t show up!”

Steve’s head shot up, brow furrowed. “That’s not what I meant.”

Like a kettle coming to boil, Steve could feel some bitchy comment lurch up his throat with his growing frustration. It was easy to think of things to say to hurt Eddie, to lash out, to make it so Eddie was the one with his head bowed, voice quiet.

Steve had learned that the hard part in these moments, is biting his tongue. Swallowing back mean comments. He doesn’t want to be vicious. Loathes the idea of falling back on snarky comments to win a fight, least of all with his boyfriend.

But... old habits die hard.

So, when Eddie had got all up in his face, firing himself up, and said, “Oh, pray tell then Steve what was so important that made you fucking forget your boyfriend.”

Steve had snapped.

“Fuck, do you ever stop? You are so much sometimes!”

The words had flown out in a harsh sneer and they hit their mark exactly as intended.

Because Steve knew all about that strange bubble of fear that lives inside Eddie— the part that didn’t care at all what strangers thought of him, but cared so much about those he came to trust. The part that worried that being big and brash all the time would be too much for people. That the reason they originally liked Eddie, would become the same reason they’d eventually dislike him for.

Steve had once told him he couldn’t ever get enough of him— let alone too much. It’s why he’d known where to strike.

Eddie’s expression has flinched, his eyes going from simmering to hurt in a few seconds flat. His fists unclenched at his side and Steve had felt the regret curdling up in his gut, a terrible sour feeling that had him shooting to his feet in an instant.

“Eddie, wait, I—”

“Leave.” Eddie said, voice dangerously low. There wasn’t room to push it. Nothing left to argue.

But still, Steve had wavered, swaying as a tidal wave of shame burned hot up his neck. He wanted to fix it. He needed to fix this.

But Eddie couldn’t look at him, eyes fixed on the ground and despite how much it had pained Steve to go, he knew he couldn’t fix it, not then and there. The door had hit him on the way out.

That had been two whole days ago. The guilt of it makes it feel like it was hours ago, still fresh as ever.

Steve had been diligent in giving Eddie his space to cool off.

The call Steve made the morning after never got picked up, just rang endlessly until the voicemail kicked in. Even though Eddie was always home Wednesdays. It told Steve well enough that Eddie was still well and truly mad.

Which was fair enough. Steve had been an asshole. Let himself fall back on old habits and stab a weak spot he only knew because Eddie trusted him, then twisted the knife as well.

But it’s like he said — silent treatment from the guy who usually can’t keep quiet is discerning to say the least. It itches uncomfortably at Steve who finds himself unusually eager to apologise.

Because, damn, if Steve doesn’t hate apologising.

Apologising means pulling out the stops, means admitting shamefully everything you’d done wrong, means having to prove how sorry you were.

It had been like that living under his father. When he was seven, Tommy had accidentally pitched a baseball through one of the windows. It had smashed right through, completely shattered. Steve had taken the fall.

He’d said sorry, head bowed, even though it had been an accident. And after he’d made Steve repeat his apology til it was a rigid phrase in his mouth, Richard Harrington had said; ‘Well, why don’t you prove how sorry you are, Steven?’

He’d ended up being his father’s personal beer boy for that week. Fetching them ice-cold from the garage at his father’s every call, from the moment he was home from school, to prove the apology was legitimate.

It had worked— after a week of doting, extra effort into keeping his room clean and to keep his father happy, Richard had permitted his son a rare smile and ruffle of his hair. ‘See? I know you were sorry now.’

Steve had learnt quickly in his childhood to go to lengths to avoid trouble with his father. To avoid the tumultuous apologies he’d have to perform, jumping through hoop after hoop for forgiveness.

But even then, Steve couldn’t escape them with friends, and especially not with girlfriends.

Tilly had been like that too. She’d been Steve’s freshman girlfriend, eyeshadow baby blue and lips always glossy. When Steve did things she didn’t like —spent Saturdays with his other friends, was late to dates— she’d pout her glittery lips and bat her eyes. ‘Aren’t you gonna make it up to me?’

Steve had — had pulled out the stops, emptied his pocket change to buy her flowers, went to second base because she really wanted him to, all to prove his apology. Until Tilly was back to her sugary smiles and fluttering hazel eyes.

It had even been like that with Nancy, though not quite to that extent. Forking out his savings to buy the nicest bouquet he could find, prepared to make it up to her, even if he wasn’t quite sure if it was him who was supposed to be apologising. But she’d gone silent treatment on him, so…

So, Steve hates apologising— but even more than that, is how much he hates Eddie’s quiet. So, when his boyfriend calls the Family Video on Friday midday, when he knows Steve’s soloing, and invites him over, Steve prepares himself for the grovelling to come.

The mixtape he’d already made sits in the gearbox of his car, carried around with him since he finished it. Upon hanging up the phone, Steve’s eyes catch on the florist across the street. His mind spins with all his knowledge of Eddie’s favourites — should he get those sour candies Eddie loved so much as well?Would it be too much?

Steve scoffs at the irony of his worries, considering what he was apologising for. Besides, it was never too much. There were never enough things to show he was sorry.

And Eddie couldn’t exactly be bought — not that was what this was. But Steve knew his boyfriend preferred all things in the manner of touch. That Steve’s affection was a far higher currency than anything bought with money.

That’s fine. Steve can do that.

He’s got a whole speech planned, honest. The smudged bullet points scrawled on his palm are testament to that, there to keep him on track and Steve checks them over religiously as he drives over after his shift.

It all goes out the window when Eddie opens the door, because Steve’s heart hiccups, splutters, soars forward in his chest.

Eddie looks just the same, his usual ripped jeans and dark shirt with a band Steve doesn’t know and yet— yet.

Steve is overcome by how much he missed Eddie.

Overcome at how those two days felt like two weeks to him. His mouth opens and the words burst out, “I’m sorry.”

part two.

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alexschlitz · 2 years

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teenage dirtbag, baby

#stranger things #eddie munson #ajsdraws #listen. if you had told me stranger things breaks me out of a six-month burnout-induced art block should have been on my 2022 bingo card #i would have laughed in your face. and yet here i am

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fadedrainbowbookshelves · 11 months

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Frank better hope there’s never any rogue letters fluttering around his living room anytime soon…

#welcome home #welcome home fanart #frank frankly #eddie dear #eddie x frank #frank x eddie #Frank being a smarmy little punk and teasing the heck out of Eddie was great #Eddie…oh Eddie. poor thing needs a break. a vacation. something.#love the voice actors I’m especially endeared to how friendly Eddie sounds!#the whole Mr. Dear and Mr. Frankly thing was interestingg #speculation here but I’m wondering if they’re just supposed to act distant for the playfellow censors (can’t be too gay!)#or if maybe Eddie’s memory issues have led to him forgetting his relationship with Frank #or if it simply isn’t a thing yet in the recordings were given.#so many thoughts and here they all lay in the tags! sorry folks <3

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carnivalcarriondiscarded · 2 months

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I have the smallest crumb of a theory. But what if howdy is mean to Latter because he’s self-conscious of being the only caterpillar (and repressed) and takes it out on his brother as a consequence. Because social expectations at the time gave him an excuse to do so?

no. ok. hoo boy. Allow Me To Be Insane Over The Most Prominent Thought I've Had Since Seeing The Update (about howdy)

i will try to be as eloquent and articulate as possible. ahem:

THAT FRUITY ASS CATERPILLAR IS REPRESSED AS FUCK, ARE YOU KIDDING ME??? DID YOU SEE THAT SHIT?? MY GOD. HOMEBOY HAS ISSUES STACKED ON ISSUES. GET HIM SOME THERAPY.

ok. ok ok ok. Now allow me to be articulate and eloquent

so obviously Howdy is almost certainly queer in the men-loving flavor. if i'm wrong about this my confidence will never recover. But I'm Willing To Take That Chance. so he's definitely queer, right? his.. well his everything points to it, but the final nail in the coffin are his rainbow suspenders from the group Homewarming artwork from Eddie's prolonged breakdown.

but this update i think showed us deeper into that part of him. and i take the shipping goggles off for genuine analysis, so when i say this i believe that there is Serious Evidence and seems Genuinely Plausible - if Howdy doesn't have feelings for Barnaby, i'll eat my cat.

the above is important to say because it Directly ties in to how Howdy treats Latter AND Eddie.

so. Howdy is likely gay or bi, what have you. i'm guessing gay. he obviously has feelings for Barnaby. SO WHAT I'M SAYING IS that i don't think Howdy treats Latter the way he does because of the caterpillar thing, I think Howdy treats Latter the way he does because Latter is genuine and Howdy is not.

what does this have to do with Eddie? well. look at Latter and Eddie in relation to each other. they're both... how do i say... Open. and not - not effeminate, but yes, for lack of of a better word, effeminate. just enough to make one go "huh." and Howdy treats them the same way - dismissive, apathetic, one could even say avoidant.

i wouldn't be shocked if Howdy picked up on their queerness (and if Latter isn't queer, his comfort with himself / his behavior & interests) and is on the defensive about it - likely subconsciously.

and with Latter specifically. Howdy could have also picked up on the way his other family members treat him if they're all also dismissive - as Seeya seems to be as well. i mean, it fits right in line with the time period! homophobia - internalized in Howdy's case (again, most likely). the blatant favoritism, the dismissive nature, it all adds up. even if no one outright knows, that subconscious recognition (or outright suspicion!) will do this

i mean, Latter makes me think of two things. 1) being the only queer kid in a family (especially large). 2) being a middle child. there was a third but i forgor. it felt important! it's gone now! anyway it's also Super telling comparing how Howdy treats Latter (emotional, earnest, open) to how he treats Beeya (oozing stereotypical masculinity)

tl;dr so i don't think it's really "expectations giving Howdy an excuse" as it is "subconscious / internalized homophobia causes Howdy to act the way he does"

as always, take all this with a Hefty grain of salt!

#i really dont think it's conscious behavior! not at the source anyway!#howdy Has to be soooooo so so deep in denial. he's gotta have five layers of repression there's no other explanation #howdy 'ill keep all of my feelings right here and then one day ill die' pillar #homebogging #wh speculation #welcome home speculation #it Would be the funniest outcome #if he really is like. deeply in love with barn but doesn't even realize it himself despite like. how goddamn obvious it is #ALL THE SIGNS POINT TO HIM BEING REPRESSED AND INTERNALIZED TO HIGH HELL AND BACK.#and being a caterpillar is like. symbolic to being open and accepting of yourself #< now im probably reaching However. The Symbolism Is There. intentionally or no #hence why barn is a caterpillar while everyone else is a butterfly #(hiya is on thin ice since her ref shows her as a caterpillar but the hullabaloo record art gives her wings)#latter is true to himself and open / out : butterfly #howdy is so deep in the closet that he's fighting wars for a lion : caterpillar #anyway so howdy. why do latter and eddie make you so defensive howdy #hm. hm. hm.#OH! AND WE HAVEN'T EVEN SEEN HOW HE ACTS AROUND FRANK YET! ohhhh that would be fascinating...#just One direct interaction between them could be So telling

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unclewaynemunson · 1 year

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Tadaaaa here is the sequel to this post, which came from an ask that got me in a chokehold for days now so kudos to the lovely anon who sent that prompt to me! You can also read the whole thing on ao3 :)

As soon as Eddie got into the passenger seat of his Wayne's truck, he saw the whole world go blurry. He tried to blink away his tears, but it was no use – nothing ever escaped his uncle's notice anyway.

'Wanna tell me what's wrong, boy?' he asked while he started the car.

Eddie grimaced. 'You know how they say you should never meet your heroes?'

'Hm?'

'Well, I met mine. On the fucking train. Just yet.'

Wayne shot him an incredulous glance.

'What was the Black Sabbath guy doin' on a train?'

'What? No, it wasn't... No.'

'The Hobbits guy?'

'Jesus Christ, Wayne, Tolkien died like fifteen years ago, keep up.'

'You want me to keep guessin' or you gonna tell me?'

Eddie rolled his eyes.

'Yeah, no, you wouldn't guess it right anyway. It's this poet.'

'Don't think I ever heard you talk 'bout poetry before,' Wayne remarked.

And that was exactly the thing. Ronan Right had been something... private. Something between Eddie and the faceless blob in his mind that embodied Right – and maybe Jeff. Okay, and Jeff's mom. But it wasn't someone he'd talk people's ears off about on any occasion he got, like he did with plenty of other musicians or writers that he'd get all obsessive about.

Until Steve, that was. Steve, who had been casually listening to his music. Steve, who had recognized the book in his hands and effortlessly opened the floodgates of his obsession. Steve, who had said the most beautiful things about Corroded Coffin without even knowing who Eddie was. Steve, who had talked with him about their shared passions for hours. Steve, who he now somehow had to merge with Right in his mind.

Steve, who seemed so perfect that it made all of Eddie's alarm bells go off at the loudest possible volume. Because this couldn't be real. This was something straight from a disgustingly sweet romcom scenario, and if there was anything Eddie could be certain about, it was that his life was no romcom.

So during the short walk from the station to Wayne's car, Eddie's head had already come up with a dozen scenarios that were completely spiraling out of control – even though they'd all make for great songs, no doubt about that. Steve would die some kind of tragic death on his way to their first date. Steve was secretly addicted to crack. Steve was a stalkerish fan who had lied to him about being Ronan Right to get close to him. Steve would cheat on him on their wedding day.

The list of possibilities was endless and terrifying – while the list of possibilities for this having a happy ending, on the other hand, was exceptionally short.

'Was it that bad?' asked Wayne while they headed out of the city.

Usually, Eddie enjoyed amping up his dramatics to a maximum around Wayne, providing the much-needed balance to his uncle's calm and steady demeanor. But right now, Eddie felt himself deflate in his seat. He couldn't bring himself to make a show out of it.

'No,' he said, quietly. 'He was perfect.'

And Wayne must've heard it in his voice, must've picked up right away that this wasn't Eddie being dramatic, that something serious was going on here, because he gave him this look that was cutting way too deep into his heart.

'Nobody can be that perfect, you know,' Eddie continued. 'It's impossible. And he – he gave me his number. And I just know that if I call it, and we get to know each other better, I'll get crushingly disappointed sooner rather than later. Because something has to be, like, disturbingly wrong with this guy.'

Anyone else than Wayne would probably tell Eddie that he was being ridiculous, that he should get over himself and call Steve; that he should allow himself to let good things happen to him or some shit. But Wayne wasn't just anyone. Wayne was the one person who knew exactly what Eddie meant. The one person who had seen from up-close the shitshow that Eddie's life had been, who had retained a front row seat through all of it. And he had had his own fair share of misery himself, Eddie knew that much. He was too old and had gotten punched down too many times to still hold naive illusions of the possibility of good things.

So he didn't give him some bullshit advice. He merely patted Eddie's knee and turned up the radio.

---

Ever since Eddie had left Hawkins, it had become a habit of him to stay with Wayne for a couple of weeks every now and then. For all his desires to get the hell out of that town when he was younger, he still spent way too much time at his uncle's trailer. But it wasn't Hawkins that he came back for, it was uncle Wayne.

It was home. And it helped him breathe whenever the city got too intense. Helped him get detached from everything that distracted him from the shit that actually mattered. Helped him get his head right when Chicago was threatening to make him lose it.

Time seemed to move differently in Hawkins than in the city. Slower. More naturally, too, somehow. Maybe it was because of the lack of nightlife and flashing neon signs when the world was supposed to be wrapped in darkness. The fact that he could still see the stars when he stepped out of the trailer at nighttime. Maybe it was the quiet, which allowed him to actually hear himself think. Or maybe it was the predictability of it all: Wayne waking him up with a cup of coffee in the morning, the two of them sharing cigarettes on the porch, Eddie helping Wayne with some chores and then trying to write new songs until well into the night, when the world was his and his alone.

He kept reading Right almost religiously, but it was different, now. Now that he could hear Steve's voice say those words, now that he could envision the way in which the sun shone on his hair through the dirty train window and the shape of his hands clutching a walkman that had Eddie's music in it. It was all different.

After a week, Eddie had a whole album worth of songs about the deception of things that seemed perfect. He hadn't been able to write even one song about things ending well, about things working out. That wasn't his life. Things never worked out. Why would they, for a boy born in a household where the trifecta of poverty, addiction and violence was all he had ever known? In the five albums he had produced so far, he'd never experienced a lack of demons to write about.

So no, he wouldn't be calling Steve, even though he had read the number that was written down on the sleeve of his own album so often that it'd probably be impossible to ever erase it from his mind again. He'd protect himself, this time. He'd cherish the hours he got to spend with Ronan Right, the memories that were already starting to feel like a fever dream, and not let his heart break any further. Not this time. Not again.

---

'Got mail for ya.'

An envelope landed in Eddie's lap.

'What's this?'

'I dunno, 's your mail,' Wayne answered.

Eddie didn't recognize the handwriting and the Indianapolis post stamp didn't give him much of a clue either. It didn't make sense that someone would send him a letter at his uncle's place.

He frowned, roughly tore open the envelope and pulled a single sheet of paper out of it. It was neither directed at nor signed by anyone, but that wasn't necessary for Eddie to know who sent it.

'What is it, boy?' Wayne asked, a worried edge to his voice upon hearing the choked sob that freed itself from Eddie's throat.

Eddie knew that the words were only meant for him. But he and Wayne were a unit, always had been, ever since Eddie moved into Forest Hills. So he wordlessly handed the paper to his uncle, roughly wiping the tears from his eyes.

Wayne assessed the text with a wrinkled forehead, holding the paper at an arm's-length in order to read it.

'That from the boy you met on the train?'

Eddie nodded.

When his uncle looked up from the letter, Eddie caught an almost unfamiliar look in his eyes. It was soft, hopeful. Optimistic.

'You know I ain't any good with words, like you, or this – this poet,' Wayne said. 'But this...' He pressed the letter back into Eddie's hand. 'This looks like he knows you, Ed. Like he sees you. For all that you are.'

He didn't tell Eddie what to do; that wasn't his style, never had been. But what he did say kept bouncing through Eddie's head unceasingly, making him unable to sleep, unable to write, unable to think about anything else.

---

Eddie desperately wanted to say something meaningful when Steve picked up the phone. He wanted to thank him for reaching out, to apologize for being too much of a coward to call earlier – but what came out of his mouth instead was, 'How did you know where to find me?'

'Eddie, is that you?' It sounded like Steve didn't quite believe it.

'Yeah – yeah, it's me,' was the only thing he managed to get out of his mouth.

'Look, I'm sorry if I overstepped,' Steve told him. 'I just – I couldn't get you out of my head and it all felt so right, you know, like fate or some shit, so I just had to... I needed to try. And I knew your name, and that you were staying with your uncle, so I got help from some friends and they managed to find your uncle's address.'

And as if Eddie hadn't been enough of an emotional wreck over the past week, his vision got blurry with tears yet again.

'Sorry, was it – did I go too far?' Steve sounded nervous.

Eddie could perfectly envision the way he would be frowning and anxiously running a hand through his hair; as if they had already shared a whole lifetime of getting to know all about each other's mannerisms instead of a few stolen hours on a train.

He hated the idea of Steve thinking he had done something wrong when all he ever did was so fucking right, so he determinedly shook his head, then realized Steve wouldn't be able to see that, and started scraping for words.

'No, Steve, you... You're perfect. And that scared the shit out of me, because so far, my life hasn't really done perfect. Most of our songs, they're – well – creative retellings of my own shit.' Now that he started talking, the words actually came a lot easier. 'They're all real, at the core, when you peel away the layers of, like, monster slaying and fantasy imagery. Like, everything underneath all that, it's all... me. Damage, betrayal, fear, violence – all that shit is true. Life hasn't been kind to me, Steve. And I was convinced that you'd only become an addition to that long list of crap, because you seemed way too perfect. I never thought I could have something good. And you're good, Steve, you're so fucking good. So I couldn't believe it.'

A long silence ensued at the other side of the line. Then, a sigh.

Then, 'Eddie,' in the softest voice possible, like his name was something breakable. Eddie didn't remember ever having heard his name said like that.

'I think that was exactly what I heard in your songs. Why I kept listening to them. Why they inspired me so much.'

Eddie tried to swallow away the lump in his throat, suffocated by the emotions bubbling up inside of him.

'I wish I could hold you, right now.'

Eddie's breath caught. He knew exactly what he needed to do: he needed to stop running. He needed to trust that Steve could be right, for him. That Steve could be something good.

'I mean, you could come over to Hawkins and do just that, you know,' he suggested.

'D'you want me to?'

He nodded, again forgetting that Steve couldn't see him.

'Yeah, I'd like that. Probably still got half that cookie somewhere in my pocket, y'know. Maybe we could share it.'

Credit where credit is due: the line “He sees you, for all that you are” isn't mine, it's one of my favorite quotes from Schitt's Creek and I really wanted Wayne to say that to Eddie about Steve, so here we have it <3

@ My beloved 🥐 anon: I hope you like this ending, and that I came close enough to your suggestion to have Steve make Eddie a character in his next poem <3

Taglist: @kathorakiryu @goodolefashionedloverboi @undreaming-rambles @fangirlycupcake @ghouligans-central @henderdads @dolphincliffs @anglhrts @ajamlessbaby @yearningagain @vampireinthesun @xxbottlecapx @kissaphobic-kas @mad-h-w @booksandsience @obsessivlyme @ppunkpuppyy @barnes-bestgirl @capital-p-platonic @eddiemunsonmeltdowns @callme-keys

#tumblr didn't wanna format the poem right so i hope it's not too annoying i ended up inserting it as an image #also i'm v nervous about this one bc i can't write poetry yet here i am pretending like i can #don't mind me rambling about stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #wayne munson #fruity ficlet

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excuseme-greentea · 2 months

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ryan talking about eddie's love for buck 🫶🏻

there's no competition

#I haven't seen this here yet I think #ryan guzman #evan buckley #eddie diaz #buddie #911 #911 abc #911ramblings

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laundrybiscuits · 1 year

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“Eddie,” Robin says, eyes wide in a way that means trouble. “Edward Munson, I sincerely hope your last will and testament is in order, because you are going to completely and totally die when I tell you who just got hired at Scoops Ahoy.”

Eddie groans. “Don’t tell me Tammy Thompson is giving up on her Nashville dreams.”

“No, I hate you, shut up forever, you’ll never guess.” Robin pauses, then in a dramatic whisper she’s definitely picked up from Eddie himself, says: “Steve Harrington.”

“Jesus. No shit?”

“Yeah, I have to train him. Oh my god it’s the worst. He’s so bad at, like, everything.”

She shoves at his shoulder until he moves out of the doorway of the trailer, and flings herself backwards onto his couch. “Like! Okay! I showed up to my shift thinking it would be a completely normal day in which I would be bored out of my skull distributing frozen dairy products to the flotsam and jetsam of Hawkins, and Ned’s like, hey Robin, you’re showing the new guy the ropes today. And then that freaking jackass has the freaking nerve to say—” Her voice drops a full register. “Uhh, nice to meet you, I’m Steve. Nice to meet you! God!”

Eddie cringes sympathetically, sucking air between his teeth. There’s a special kind of indignity to being so completely and utterly below the radar of Hawkins High royalty, even former bearers of the crown. It’s not as if Hawkins is a big town; Eddie’s pretty sure he could pick every single person in the graduating classes of ‘84 and ‘85 out of a crowd. He’ll probably be able to do it for ‘86 too, though he’s trying not to think about it too hard. So he’ll be a senior again (again) this fall, whatever. It’s fine. It’s whatever.

Once in a while, he wastes some time really, really wishing he’d gotten to know Robin earlier in the year. Maybe even last year. For undying friendship reasons, yeah, but also because with her in his corner, he might’ve actually passed enough of his classes to fucking graduate on his second fucking try.

But he’d only actually met her, like actually met her for real instead of passing her in the hall sometimes, when he’d let himself get suckered into rejoining band. It wasn’t like he could’ve brought his guitar in, but he let it slip to Miss Genovese that he could read music and keep time, and they needed someone to wallop the bass drum, and he figured a little experience fucking around with percussion might be the one thing he could salvage from the year. He’d just…been so goddamn tired of feeling stuck, spinning his wheels. Music was something he could actually handle; something he could actually get better at. Something he could master. He's man enough to admit he needed a win.

The actual songs were all stuffy Holst and Sousa numbers, but they’d had some fun technical bits he spent his evenings hammering out for a couple weeks. And then right around the point when he’d gotten good enough to get bored and think about quitting like last time, it had somehow wound up that shooting the shit with the gangly weirdo in the trumpet section was one of the best parts of his day. Unfortunately, by the time they’d gotten close enough for her to start bullying him about homework and shit, it had been way too late to save his chance at walking that ‘85 stage with assholes like Steve fucking Harrington.

Not that Harrington would’ve even noticed, apparently.

“Anyway, the one singular saving grace about the entire situation is that he looks even dumber in the sailor costume than I do, so at least that will make me feel better about my life until he gets fired for burning down the ice cream freezer or something like that. Eddie, I cannot stress this enough: he is so bad at this job.”

Eddie very tactfully does not bring up the litany of screw-ups that Robin’s admitted to over the last couple weeks since she started at Scoops; he just says, “Buckley, it sounds to me like you might be in need of some quality relaxation time this fine evening. I can offer you a nice cold beer, some herbal refreshment…or a fiendishly weird new song to learn with an intro riff that'll make you cry.”

Robin, inveterate nerd of his heart, sits up immediately and chirps, “New song, please!” just like he knew she would. She’s going to run off and elope with his acoustic one of these days, and he’s not even mad about it.

“Coming right up, m’lady,” says Eddie. “I promise this entire Harrington situation will be over before you know it, and neither of us will ever have to think about him again.”

(ETA: First chapter of this fic has been edited/expanded and posted on AO3)

#new fic time YET AGAIN yes I know I have other things on the boil #seasonal things even #but I have recently spent 36 hours without sleep in airports/airplanes bc the nation of britain is 0% equipped to handle subzero temps #I literally kept myself sane by rereading nice comments I'd saved on my phone so thanks for that y'all #and I just needed to work on a thing that wasn't an angsty mid-90s Steve POV set in chicago; this was next on the docket #I'm just out here vibing with my Eddie & Robin: Gay BFFs agenda #obviously this will be steddie eventually but it feels disingenuous to tag on this part #fyi this will not be fully compliant with Rebel Robin but there may be some details drawn from the book/podcast #fic: purify our misfit ways

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