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steddiealltheway · 8 months

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Steve can see it in Max. That same loneliness and ache that he finds in himself. For him, it’s result of his parents leaving with no intent to return to him unless absolutely necessary.

He knows he was an accident. Or rather a mistake as his father used to call him when he was particularly angry. But it made sense to him. Steve's the reason his father had to marry his mother. He left him "trapped." And maybe no one says it out loud, but he can tell his mother feels the same way too.

But they must keep up appearances, right?

Which is what Max has been trying to do since Billy died, El moved away, and it's been just her and her mom. But she's been going about it through a different route - pushing people away all while pretending things are fine. But Steve sees the way she picks up the broken pieces of her mom and tries to put them back together - Steve's had to do the same thing before.

So, he starts sticking around a little longer. Offering her more rides to the arcade and around town to pick up groceries when she needs to. Sometimes he'll tell her about a new recipe he's been trying for a casserole and pick up the ingredients, pretending like the milk and butter he bought will spoil by the time he drives home from her trailer.

Of course, they both know it's a lie, but Max humors him and plays along. She'll let him cook dinner while she picks up the bottles her mom left on the floor, dumps out the overflowing ashtray, and feeds the dog. Usually, Steve will ask her what she's learning in school and linger a little longer than usual in hopes that she'll say more than the usual, "I don't know. A bunch of boring stuff."

But lingering has gotten a lot of things out of Max such as her love for Kate Bush, a story about El and how much she misses her, and short quips about Lucas before she gets a sad smile on her face. Steve doesn't really know what to say most of the time, but he hopes that just being there will help.

Unfortunately, lingering and just being there has led him to his current predicament of none other than Eddie "The Freak" Munson sitting on the hood of his car glaring at him as he walks out of Max's place. Steve jumps a little, startled by the figure on his car and becoming more hostile as he sees the expression on his face. He shoves his hands in his pockets and slows his pace. "Is there a problem?"

Eddie snorts humorlessly. "Christ. You're really going to pretend like there's nothing wrong with what's happening?"

Steve's brows furrow, entirely missing whatever point he's trying to make.

Eddie stands up and stalks toward him. "I see you, you know. Always lurking around when her mom isn't home. Coming out of her trailer late at night."

Steve laughs, finally understanding the absurd conclusion he's come to. "Jesus, man. You're delusional."

Steve doesn't expect it, but Eddie sharply shoves his chest and grits, "I don't fucking lie to me, Harrington."

Steve holds his hands up. "I'm not," he firmly states. "Nothing like that is happening here. I'm glad you're looking out for her, but it isn't like that."

"Do you expect me to believe that? Maybe this is why you're always hanging around Henderson and the other kids."

Steve crosses his arms and his jaw tenses. "I'm not a fucking pervert or a pedophile if that's what you're trying to say. I'm just looking after them."

"Why?" Eddie asks, dramatically opening his arms, "Why would King Steve adopt a group of misfits to take under his wing? See, the math isn't adding up."

Usually, Steve would just brush it off and tell the person to fuck off and mind their own business. But his parents have just left town again without leaving a note and Max had snapped when Steve tried to help her clean the place because it looked worse than usual, and he was just generally feeling like shit and angry at his parents and Max's parents for not being there. So he broke, "Because I don't want Max to end up like me! I don't want any of those kids to grow up without a role model. And god forbid if any of those other kids' parents fuck up, and they’re left with only me. I need them to know that I'm there for them! Because sometimes it feels like whenever the world goes to shit, I'm the only one who is there, and I plan to stay there, okay?!"

He finishes his rant breathing a little heavier than usual and noticing that a few of the lights in the trailers have turned on around them. He looks around and awkwardly nods to the people glaring out their windows. God, he needs to get a grip.

When he turns back to Eddie, he notices the conflicted expression, jaw dropped, eyebrows knitted together, eyes searching him as if he's still wondering if he's lying.

A door creaks open behind them and Steve curses under his breath as he hears Max say, "Eddie, leave him alone. Do you really think I would hook up with my damn babysitter? Jeez."

"Language," Steve quietly lectures as the door swings shut. He runs his hands over his face and takes a deep breath. It's been a long fucking day.

A hand lands on his arm and tugs him away from Max's trailer. Steve glances up at Eddie, leading him across the way. "Where are we going?"

"My place," Eddie says.

"Why?"

"So we can talk."

God, the last thing he wants to do is talk to Eddie of all people, the guy he's been actively avoiding since Dustin started worshipping the ground - or rather tables - he walks on. But he lets himself be pulled away in the trailer and practically deposited on the couch in the living room.

He glances up and comments, "That's a lot of mugs."

"My uncle's, but that's not what I wanted to... Christ," Eddie says, pacing in front of Steve and tugging his hair in front of his face. The anxious display makes Steve feel even more tired, but he lets him pace. God, what is he even doing here?

"I'm sorry," Eddie blurts out. "I'm just..." he trails off and rushes over to grab a stool a few feet away before dragging it in front of the couch. He sits on it but his leg still holds that nervous energy as it rapidly bounces up and down. "I jumped to conclusions, and it was really shitty of me, man. I just... didn't believe what Henderson was saying about you and thought 'Oh, this makes way more sense than Steve Harrington being a good dude.' And I'm sorry to accuse you of that. And I... I didn't know about your... parents and stuff. Like I knew they were away a lot because of your parties but... I just never connected the dots. And I'm sorry. No one deserves that shit, man."

Steve doesn't know what to do this whole interaction, especially with it coming from Eddie Munson who he doesn't think he's ever talked to before this moment, but... he needs to hear it. God, he needs to hear it.

Of course, he can't let him know this, so he does what he's best at and brushes it off. "It's fine. You were just looking out for the kids. And really just ignore what I said back there, it isn't that big of a deal."

Eddie worries his bottom lip before he blurts out, "I know what it's like." He pauses and takes a deep breath. "I mean, I know what it's like to have... absent parents. But in my case, eventually, my uncle Wayne took me in, and I can only imagine if he didn't." He gives him a pointed look and lowers his voice, "Do you have someone like that?"

A big part of Steve wants to leave right now, and he knows there's nothing stopping him. But a bigger part of him needs to stay. Needs to talk about the emptiness in his house that he can never truly escape at the end of the day that he can’t talk to anyone about. Because he's not supposed to be weak. He's supposed to take care of the others. So he admits, "No, I don't have... anyone like that. Except Robin but..."

"That's different," Eddie finishes the thought for him.

Steve nods. He loves Robin, but he loves her as a platonic soulmate and not as a parent figure in his life. "You know, I once had this basketball coach in middle school - Mr. Weston. And I remember looking up to him so much. I wanted to be just like him, and I would go to his office during lunch and ask him for advice or talk about dumb shit that my father would never talk about. But he never shamed me for my questions. And sometimes he even packed an extra dessert for me." Steve smiles at the memories and runs a hand through his hair, remembering the day he got the news. "But one time, when I went to his office, he had this look on his face. And I just knew it was bad news. And really, it wasn't bad news to him because his wife was pregnant. But she wanted to move a few states away to raise the kid closer to her family. And it wasn't his fault, you know? It wasn't like he purposely chose to move away from me, but I felt like I was abandoned again."

Steve wipes a tear from his eye and puts his head in his hands. "God, I don't know why I'm even telling you this story. Sorry."

"Don't apologize," Eddie says quickly. He pauses and shifts on the stool, his gaze being far away. "I remember him. He was one of the only gym teachers that defended me against all the shitty middle school bullies. He was a good person.”

Steve nods. God, he was a good person.

Eddie continues, “I'm sorry that he left. And I bet he still regrets leaving you behind."

Steve leans back against the couch and looks away, shaking his head. "I bet he forgot about me."

"You're kind of hard to forget."

Steve looks at Eddie and sees a slight blush on his cheeks as he shakes his head and waves his hands as if trying to make the comment go away. "What I mean is that there's no way he's forgotten about you. Someone who you used to have lunch with all the time to the point of giving you free food... Nah, man. He remembers you. I think you may have been as important to him as he was to you."

The thought breaks away at a wall Steve had built up long ago. "Thanks," he practically whispers.

Eddie just smiles at him, small dimples appearing on his cheeks.

"You didn't deserve it either, you know," Steve says. "The absent parent stuff. Even with Wayne, they should've been here too."

Eddie's smile falters a bit as he swallows and looks at the ground. "Thanks," he mumbles. He looks up at Steve and comments, "Getting sappy with Steve Harrington. Who knew."

"Yeah, getting sappy with Eddie Munson," Steve echoes back at him.

Eddie laughs, "I'm surprised you even know my name."

"You're kind of hard to forget," Steve says easily.

That same blush comes back to Eddie who shifts in his chair a bit as if he needs to process the information with his whole body.

They sit in the moment for a bit before Eddie gets a somewhat serious look on his face and offers, "You know, I'm definitely not a parent figure or anything, but I'm always here and around to talk about that whole thing if you need to."

Steve's heart beats a little faster at the sheer genuineness. "Same here," he can't help but offer in return. He glances down at his watch and sighs, "It's getting late, so I better..."

"Right," Eddie says, standing up and leading him to the door. "Do you need water for the road or anything?"

Steve smiles and pats him on the back without thinking too hard about it. "I'm good, man. But thank you. For everything really."

"Sorry for being an asshole," Eddie apologizes again.

"Usually that's my line," Steve accidentally voices before cringing a bit, wondering further why Eddie's been so kind to him.

But as he opens the door, Eddie comments, "I don't know. It seems like Dustin was right about the whole reformed jock thing. Maybe your crown really has fallen - which is a good thing by the way."

Steve slightly smiles at him before he turns to leave. But he can't help but say, "I wonder what the neighbors will think about me leaving your trailer so late."

Eddie groans then laughs. "Sorry to ruin your image."

"I wouldn't mind," Steve replies, honestly unsure what he means by that. "Goodnight, Eddie."

"Goodnight, Steve," Eddie says, that same blush on his cheeks, only this time Steve isn't sure if it's something he said or a result of the cold night air.

In bed that night, Steve feels a slight weight lifted from him and can't help but feel like he’s a little less alone.

#steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #steddie ficlet #leave it to Eddie to tell Steve the things he needs to hear #sometimes it just shakes me to the core when I realize how alike they are #like yes. they absolutely have their differences #but at the core they have similar experiences that they need to process #and really I think they need each other #because they’re both so willing to die for others and see the worth in everyone but themselves #but put them together and that worth goes back and forth #I just see them learning a lot from each other #and it’s a really beautiful thing #ANYWAYS #hi guys. thanks for sticking through that massive tag rant thing 💛

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ikarakie · 1 year

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the first time wayne meets steve is actually far before the events of '86. in fact, it's in winter of '85.

he's on his way back from work when he pops a tire. he's pissed off, it's cold, still dark, and the beginnings of fucking snow are falling around him, and he doesn't have a spare. the nearest payphone is probably three miles walk, and he's just readying himself to make the journey when, miraculously, a pair of headlights turn onto the back road.

the car slows to a stop behind wayne's, and he's struck by how fucking nice it is. a brown bmw 733i, one he thinks he's seen around a couple times. when the driver steps out, he realises that, yes, he has seen this car. because the boy behind the wheel is the harrington boy, and wayne curses every god out there.

he expects some snark. a good attitude and for the kid to make him grovel for help or outright deny any assistance. instead, he approaches with these wide bambi eyes, the absolute picture of concern.

"are you alright, sir?" he asks, perfectly polite. wayne huffs.

"popped a tire, ain't got a spare." he doesn't- doesn't know why he's telling him. really doesn't. but something about the kid makes him falter, makes his steely exterior give way ever so slightly. the boy crouches down to the tire in question, frowning as he inspects it. then nods, grinning. he says nothing to wayne as he heads back to his car, and for moment he thinks the kid's gonna leave him in the dirt. but, instead, he pops the trunk and hauls out a spare, rolls it over to the car.

wayne only watches, fascinated, as he jogs back to retrieve a little set of tools. sits his ass by his tire and starts going at it. he's in a thin, short sleeved tshirt and jeans. he must be fucking freezing- wayne is, and he's got a thick coat, gloves and a hat on.

"what're you doin', boy?" he asks, unable to sound anything but bewildered. the kid blinks at him.

"changing your tire, sir?"

"i ain't got anything to pay you back with." wayne warns, wary. the kid shrugs, continues his task.

"that's okay, i wasn't going to ask you to." he pulls the popped tire off and lays it by his side. "it's just a good thing we have the same size, huh?" he grins, a little shy. wayne has never felt so thrown off in his life.

was this really james and cynthia harrington's boy? would someone of those people's blood really sit in the cold to change a strangers tire? expecting nothing in return? "where's your layers, kid? it's cold as ass out here, you'll catch a chill."

"oh, i gave it to my friend." seriously? seriously? "i'm alright sir, not to worry." he says this despite his red cheeks and reddening knuckles.

he finishes fitting the tire a second or two later, and once he's inspected it, gives wayne an endearingly dorky thumbs up. it reminds him of eddie in all the best ways. "all done, sir!" he collects up all his tools and threads an arm through the hole of the tire, balancing it on his shoulder. "i'll take this for you, i have to drive by the junkyard anyways." he doesn't. wayne knows the harrington's live in loch nora, and that's the opposite goddamn direction.

"you really a harrington?" he asks, not missing the confusion and maybe even slight disappointment he's met with. "just- no offence, son, but i always thought they were nothin' but bad." he deflates even more, if possible. "how did they raise such a kind boy?"

it's such a sudden change, how quickly he's smiling, bright enough to light the damn road if he wanted. it's all bashful and excited, it makes wayne wonder if he's never heard a good word about himself in his life, which seems insane.

"i still got a bit of an asshole gene," he jokes, a little dry, "but i'm trying to be better, you know?" he motions to the tire. "if you can help, why shouldn't you?"

wayne wants to squeeze him, but refrains. thanks him a couple times over and forces the boy to take his hat before he goes, (despite his complaints). harrington bids him farewell and a safe drive home, and he's driving off before either realise they never learnt each other's names.

(wayne finds his out later, though, when eddie meets him at the door, worried that he's late. only after he's walked his nephew through the story three times and sworn up and down, yes, it was true, and yes, it was definitely harrington. steve harrington.

when they meet again after '86, in eddie's hospital room, that boy from all that time ago holding his nephew's hand, he does give him that hug. thanks him, for both this time and the last.

steve wears the hat in winter of '86. it makes wayne smile.)

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unfinishedslurs · 1 year

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gay bar (steddie)

“Well, well, well,” says a voice from behind. “Steeeeeeve Harrington. I must be dreaming.”

Steve turns around to see a guy, dressed in black and chains. Rings decorating his fingers, studs in his ears, curly hair pulled back in a ponytail. He’s hot, yeah, but something about him has Steve squinting, trying to figure out why he looks so familiar.

“I know you from somewhere,” he says, pointing out the obvious. The guy knows his name.

The not-a-stranger snorts. “Of course you don’t remember me. Why would the likes of King Steve stoop to—“

As soon as the nickname leaves his mouth, Steve’s brain lights up. “Munson!” He exclaims, snapping his fingers. “You used to climb on the lunch tables to give speeches.”

It was so obnoxious, too. The kind of thing that had him and Robin reminiscing late at night, celebrating some of the weirder shit about Hawkins that didn’t come from monsters, or Russians, or government conspiracy. Remember that one asshole? Yeah, he stepped on my lunch one time!

Condolences to Robin’s pb&j. She never sat at that table again.

Munson’s whole face turns pink. “Seriously? That’s what you remember?”

“It was pretty fucking memorable, dude. Like, gross, doesn’t this guy know not to put his feet where people eat? Dustin thought you were so cool for it too. I had to nip that in the bud before he started imitating you or some shit.”

“Oh,” he says, voice gone flat. “Because God forbid some poor kid try to immolate the freak.”

Steve gives him his bitchiest, most deadpan stare. “Feet,” he says slowly. “Nasty, fifteen year old boy feet. On my kitchen table. He almost slipped and cracked his skull, and I would have sent you the hospital bill.”

He had to get creative to make him stop, too. Stood there, hands on his hips, and made Dustin tell him exactly how many germs he thought were on his shoes. Then when he tried to do it barefoot, decided the only course of action was to stuff Dustin’s abandoned sock in his mouth and ask if he wanted that shit with every meal. Erica still has the photos.

Munson has the decency to look embarrassed, face flooding an even brighter red that wouldn’t be out of place in a tomato patch. “What are you even doing here, Harrington?”

What does he think Steve’s doing here? It’s a fucking gay bar, it’s pretty self explanatory. “My friend is here somewhere,” he says, waving out at the crowd of people. “She’s going through a dry spell, so…”

“Right,” Munson says. Steve squints at him. Does he look disappointed?

Eh. Doesn’t matter.

“You gave my kids the best freshman year of their nerdy little lives,” he tells him, because he knows Dustin would want him to. Plus, the guy was Mike’s gay awakening. He should probably get some credit. “So thanks for that.”

He lights up. “Yeah! How was Hellfire in my absence?”

“I had to hear them bitch and moan for months about how it ‘wasn’t the same,’ but it’s doing pretty all right. Erica Sinclair is running it now.”

“Erica Sinclair…” Munson mutters, snapping his fingers. “Lucas Sinclair’s little sister? Lady Applejack?” He beams when Steve nods. “She kicked ass. Best finish to a campaign my entire high school career. How’s Lucas, anyway? And the rest of the runts.”

“He’s doing great,” Steve says. “College basketball at Yale. Pretty sure he’s dying under the workload, but that’s what you get for majoring in physics. Dustin’s at MIT, and Mike’s taking a gap year.”

He whistles lowly. “Yeesh, I don’t blame him. How about Byers?”

“Which one?”

“Zombie boy.” Steve’s hackles raise, but Munson just grins. “God, that nickname was badass.”

“How do you even know about that?”

Munson taps the side of his nose. “A magician never reveals his secrets. Besides, all it took for you to remember me was calling you by your high school nickname.”

“That wasn’t my nickname.” Steve rolls his eyes. “Literally three people ever actually called me that, and you were one of them.”

He has a feeling it was Tommy who started it, bitter and vicious. Told himself Steve was self possessed, high and mighty, above it all. That’s why he left his old friends behind. Not because he was in love, or because he wanted to be better. No, King Steve just sits alone in his castle, looking down on the peasants with contempt.

Billy must have taken his angry ramblings and run with them. After all, what better way to get a start in a new town than declaring yourself royalty? Never mind that Steve hadn’t cared about anything like that for almost a year by then.

Munson had just been a drama-loving asshole.

“That can’t be right.”

“I stopped being popular in junior year. Why the hell would anyone call a sophomore King?” Steve points out.

“You were Prom King.”

“Again, in junior year. Pickings were slim. Who else would it have been? Tommy?” He has to laugh.

Luckily, Munson takes the hint and swerves the conversation into new territory. “You know, I always figured you’d be homophobic.”

Steve snorts. “What, and get kicked out for nothing?”

Munson stares at him, and Steve furrows his brow, looking into his glass like it will have the answer to why the hell he said that to this guy he barely knows. He just decided he wasn’t going to spill all his daddy issues to a near-stranger in a dingy bar, dammit. Is he already on his fifth drink?

Actually, this might be his sixth. That tracks.

“What?”

“My dad caught me kissing a boy,” he says. If he’s going to give Munson his life story, he might as well commit. “Can you believe that boy ruined my life in three different ways? Two of them didn’t even have anything to do with the gay thing.”

Maybe four ways, if you accounted for the way he broke his goddamn heart, but everyone and their mother saw that coming a mile away. Even Steve. Especially Steve.

No offense to Jonathan. None of those things were really his fault. Or actually life ruining, but it sure fucking felt like it at the time.

He should give him a call soon, actually, see how he and Argyle are doing. He misses the guy. Maybe he and Robin should save up for a visit to Cali. Get Nancy on it. They could see San Francisco while they were there, that’d be cool. Apparently it was the queer capital of the country.

He’s thinking about asking the bartender for a napkin and a pen to write down the plans he’s forming when Munson speaks up again. Steve honestly forgot he was here.

“I thought you said you were here for a friend.”

What?” Steve blinks, confused, and then catches on. “Yeah, to get her laid. I’m not in the mood right now.”

Munson cocks an eyebrow. “Wearing that? Could’ve fooled me.”

Steve looks down at his Springsteen T-Shirt that Robin cropped, and picks at the frayed hem of his shorts. Okay, yeah, they’re on the skimpy side, but in his defense it’s summer and even if he’s not cruising Steve likes being looked at. “Yeah, yeah. What about you? Here for anything in particular?”

“Just to talk to some pretty boys,” Munson says, leaning on the bar to flag down the bartender. Steve smirks, reaching out a hand to tug at the hanky in his back pocket. Pinned, damn.

Munson whirls around, a flush starting to crawl onto his ears.

“Wearing that?” Steve echos snarkily. “Could’ve fooled me.”

He swears that for a minute Munson’s eyes darken.

He’s almost tempted to follow through, high school reputation be damned, when someone crashes into his side and nearly sends him careening.

“Steeeeeve,” Robin yells happily into his ear. “This is Bernie, she’s gonna take me home, see you la—oh, hi!” She says, noticing Munson. “I know you from somewhere.”

“Eddie Munson,” Munson greets. “Steve and I went to high school together.”

“Munson! That’s it, you climbed on tables and had shit music. I’m Robin. Okay, I’ll call the apartment and leave a message when we get there. Bernie’s waiting on me, it’s-nice-to-meet-you-bye!” Just like that, she’s gone.

Munson’s mouth has dropped open. “You told her I had shit music?” He demands. “Wait, you talked about me?”

“She went to school with us, dumbass,” he says, as if he can talk. He still barely remembers her as more than a vague, glowering figure in his peripheral. “It’s not my fault you blasted your screamy music for everyone in the parking lot. Such a fucking headache, God.”

Munson turns his nose up. “Sorry for having offended your jock sensibilities.”

“Oh, I don’t play anymore,” he says, and knocks on his head. “Concussions, yanno. Apparently brain damage will fuck you up. Who knew?”

“What, like the fight you had with Byers? He did you that bad?”

“He did me just fine,” Steve blurts out, before he can stop himself. Munson chokes. “Shit, sorry, I’m kind of a horny drunk.” Weird thing to say, Steve. “Also, I cannot stress enough how much I needed to be punched in the face. It was a monumental moment for me, you know. Started me on the path for changing my entire worldview. Plus, he was my first guy crush.” He swirls his empty glass, lost in thought, before brightening up. “I should call him!”

Munson is staring at him, mouth opening and closing like a fish.

“What?”

“You’re drunk.”

“Well, yeah. Duh.”

“I should probably stop you from booty-calling the guy who punched you in the face.”

Steve wrinkles his nose. “It wouldn’t be a booty-call,” he says. “He and Argyle are happy together, man. I’m not gonna ruin that.”

“Oh, so you’d call him because…”

“I call him all the time,” Steve says, confused as to why this is such a big deal. “We’re friends.”

“Jonathan!” He yells happily into the pay phone. Munson is standing to the side, looking on in annoyance. Whatever, it’s not like Steve asked him to do this. “Jonathan, man, how are you?”

“…Steve?”

“Yeah!”

“It’s like…” he hears something clatter in the background, like Jonathan is looking for something, “two in the morning there. You okay?”

“I’m doing great!” He exclaims. “How about you? It’s been ages, man, I miss you.”

“This is so fucking weird,” Munson whispers behind him. Steve ignores him.

“Are you drunk?”

“No,” he says. “Well, maybe a little. Do you not miss me too?” He pouts, and Jonathan sighs loud enough he hears it over the phone.

“I just talked to you yesterday.”

Steve frowns. “Yesterday? That can’t be right, it’s been, like, forever. Oh, hey, have you heard from Nance lately? How’s your mom? I love your mom, she’s so fucking cool. Does she know I think she’s cool? How’s Will? It’s been so long, is he taller than me yet? How’s Argyle doing with his degree? I miss you guys.”

“We miss you too, Steve.”

“Awww, Byers, getting soppy on me? Gross, man.”

“You literally just—yeah, okay. Are you alone?”

“Nah, I’ve got this guy with me, he’s walking me home. Oh! Dude, do you remember Munson?”

“Munson?”

“Yeah, Eddie Munson! From high school! The one who used to climb on tables and shit, remember him?”

“Jesus Christ,” Munson groans. “Please let that die.”

“No one is dying,” Steve informs him seriously, and turns back to the phone. Munson sighs.

“Wasn’t he a drug dealer?”

“Yes! Yeah, drug dealer Munson! Did you ever buy from him?” He turns to where Munson is looking around furtively. “Did Jonathan ever buy from you?”

“How about we not talk about this here,” Munson says through gritted teeth. Steve sighs and turns back to the phone.

“Never mind, he says he doesn’t want to talk about that. Not like we can judge him, but whatever. Maybe the guy’s turned into a prude—“

“Okay, give me that.” Munson wrestles the phone out of his hand, and Steve whines at him. “Hey, Byers,” Munson says. “Yeah, it’s Eddie. Or Munson. Whatever. Listen, I’m getting kind of sick of standing here watching Harrington slobber all over the receiver, can he call you tomorrow? What? No, I don’t sell anymore—yeah, total bummer, whatever. Listen, I’ll get him home safe—no, I’m not going to serial murder him. He’s gonna be fine, he’ll call you tomorrow—Nancy Wheeler? Like that girl he dated? Didn’t you—shoot me? Jesus, okay! I’m not gonna kill the guy, Christ. He’s gonna be fine, oh my God. He’ll call you tomorrow. Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Yeah, okay. Bye.” He slams the phone into its holder with more than a little contempt.

“Hey!” Steve protests. “You didn’t let me say bye.”

“You can call him tomorrow and apologize,” Munson says. “Now c’mon, Harrington. I’ve been tasked with getting you home safe, and if I fail, apparently Nancy fucking Wheeler is going to shoot me in the balls.”

“Oh, yeah, she’s really hot when she does that,” Steve says fondly, and Munson splutters.

“What, does Wheeler just go around shooting people? Does she even have a gun?”

“Of course Nancy has a gun.” Steve frowns. It was one of the sure things in the universe at this point. The sky is blue, Hawkins is fucked up, and Nancy Wheeler has a gun. “And she doesn’t shoot people, stupid. Well, she shot at Billy, but he deserved it.”

“Billy?” Munson mutters, starting to usher Steve in the direction of home. “Who the fuck is Billy?”

“He was trying to kill her first!” Steve defends. “I hit him with a car before he could, so she was okay.”

“Okay, yeah, sure. Why wouldn’t you hit some guy with a car?

“It wasn’t some guy,” Steve says. “It was Billy. He was, like, possessed or some shit. Oh, and he beat me up. Total psycho. And that was before the melted flesh monster.”

Munson stops and stares at him. “You know what, sure. Demonic possession. Yeah, okay. Some guy named Billy kicked your ass—wait, are you talking about Billy Hargrove?”

Steve lights up. “Yeah! You remember that? That’s one of the concussions I was talking about. I gotta wear glasses 'cuza that shit. Man, fuck that guy.”

“Didn’t he die?”

“Oh, yeah,” Steve frowns down at the ground. “Shit, I’m, like, speaking ill of the dead, aren’t I? Max wouldn't like that. Unfuck him, or whatever.”

“You wanna come up?” He asks. “For old times sake?”

Munson stares at him like it’s the craziest thing he’s said all evening. “‘Old times’ was your asshole friends calling me a satan worshiper and pushing me around in hallways, Harrington.”

“I know.” He grins. If he was sober he’d definitely feel worse about that, but as it is he’s pretty single minded. “Don't you kind of want to make me cry about it?”

Deer in headlights isn’t usually a good look, but Munson’s got the eyes to make it work. Or Steve is drunk. Either way, it’s kinda cute.

“You’re drunk,” he finally says, stumbling over the words a little. If Steve pays close attention and ignores most of reality, it almost sounds like he’s trying to convince both of them. “You’re so incredibly drunk.”

“I’m not that drunk.” He totally is.

“I just had to supervise you calling Jonathan Byers so you didn’t say something you’d regret in the morning.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Steve asks, offended. “I love Jonathan! I tell him all the time. Just because I said he ruined my life—“

“That was him?”

“Did I not say that? Huh. Whatever. Point is, I’m not that drunk.”

“You’re definitely drunk,” Munson says. “I’m not—yeah, no. I’m not coming up.”

“Damn.” Steve shrugs, not too put out about it. It’s a bummer, sure, but he handles rejection like a champ. Just ask Robin. “Worth a shot. See you ‘round, Munson.”

“Don’t kill me,” Steve says.

“Oh, god, did you punch him?”

“No, I, uh.” Steve rubs the bridge of his nose. “I think I tried to fuck him.”

He has to hold the phone away from his face so Dustin’s screeching doesn’t break his eardrums.

“Your exes are weirdly protective of you,” Munson says blandly. “Also, didn’t they date?”

“Yeah,” Steve shrugs, not exactly eager to start spilling his life story again now that he’s sober. Munson doesn’t need to know more about his dating history than he already does. “We’re all a little weird about each other, sorry.”

“Weird about your exes,” he hums. “No wonder you’re single.”

“Oh, fuck you. It’s not like that.”

He raises an eyebrow. “No?”

“Are you always this nosy?” Steve asks, a little waspish.

“Absolutely,” Munson replies without hesitation. “I’d say sorry, but I’m not. When did you even date him?”

“Dude.”

Munson just cocks an expectant eyebrow, hip resting against the bar. He can’t imagine why someone would be so interested in the romantic lives of their old high school classmates. It’s not like Steve is about to ask what was going on between him and Chrissy Cunningham.

“Well, Harrington?”

“First grade,” Steve answers, deadpan. He grins when Munson chokes. “Nah, it was actually after he and Nancy broke up. Fall of ‘86.”

Arms squeeze him from behind, and Robin slides into view, leaving one hand wrapped pointedly around Steve’s waist. She gets clingy when she thinks someone is bothering him, or when she’s just on the side of drunk that she gets possessive. She told him, embarrassed and hungover, that it’s because she registers someone he’s getting along with as infringing on “her Steve time.” Steve thinks it’s hilarious and kind of sweet, an obvious lesbian trying to pretend he’s her date. Especially because he gets the same way when he’s tipsy and feels like he doesn’t have enough of her attention, so she can't yell at him for being a cockblock. Cuntblock. Whatever the lesbians call it.

He wonders what category she thinks Eddie is. Of guy, that is. Not block-anything.

He'd actually be pretty damn happy if the guy miraculously changed his mind and decided to sit on his cock instead.

“What’s going on here?” She asks, almost cattily. He loves when Robin gets bitchy. It brings him back to their Scoops days, except he gets to see it turned on someone else.

“I’m telling Eddie my life story,” Steve says blithely.

“Ugh. Who would want that?”

Eddie grins. “I’m curious about the adventures of a former king.” He dips his head in a bow, waving his hand in a flourish. “I don’t know if you remember me from last time, I’m Eddie—“

“Munson, I know. You stepped on my lunch in junior year.”

Eddie turns beet red in record time.

“Aww, Robbie,” Steve almost coos. “Leave him alone. I wanted to be the one who made him blush like that.”

“It’s not my fault your boy’s easy.”

“Not my boy, clearly,” he mutters under his breath. “And if he were easy, I’d have gotten fucked by now.”

Eddie’s mouth drops open with a choked little sound. Whoops. Steve forgot volume control again.

Robin takes one look at Eddie’s face and bursts into cackles.

“He was asking about,” he waved a hand in the air, “the whole Nancy-Jonathan thing.”

Her eyebrows jut up. “You told him about the threesome?”

“The what?”

Steve sighs. “No, Robin. I did not tell him about the threesome.”

“…oops.”

“When?” Eddie demands.

Robin gives him the evil eye. “Why are you being weird about this? It’s not gonna make him fuck you.”

Steve wisely keeps his mouth shut.

Eddie does not. “Your boy here already asked,” he smirks, leaning closer. “I said no.”

Then, as an added punch to his ego, he twirls a strand of Steve’s hair around his finger and tugs slightly. Steve’s too stunned to protest.

Robin watches the exchange. “Oh, no thank you,” she says. “Nope. I’m out. I don’t want to see whatever this is. Ugh, stop making me hear about your sex life.”

Hypocrite. “We have thin walls, Buckley,” Steve reminds her. He turns to Eddie and stage whispers, “She likes her girls loud.”

“Steve!”

“You do!”

“Oh, because you’re so quiet,” she snaps, smacking him. “How many times have I had to bang on the wall because you couldn’t keep it down? You wanna talk about loud? I know more about you than I ever wanted to.”

His mouth drops open in mortification. “You know it’s rude to be mean to the man who told you how to eat out,” he hisses.

“I’m not dying without fucking Eddie Munson,” he declares. “I mean, his high school nickname was literally ‘The Freak.’ He’s got to be good in bed, right?”

“I think that was mostly because everyone thought he was communing with the Devil or something.”

“Maybe the Devil gave him sex magic.”

“Of course he thinks I’m cute.”

“I do?”

“Do you not?” Steve turns to him, widening his eyes in the same pout that always has Robin throwing something at his face, or the kids reluctantly agreeing to do what he wants. He’s found it’s useful for guys too, especially if he ducks his head to seem smaller and looks through his eyelashes. Makes them imagine him looking like that on his knees.

Munson is no exception. He melts faster than Steve can say gotcha. “You’re very cute, Harrington,” he purrs, and Robin snorts into her drink.

“You’re a weak, weak man, Eddie Munson,” she tells a blushing Eddie. Then she kicks Steve. “Stop bringing out the ‘fuck me’ eyes when I’m around, I’ll gag.”

“You could leave.”

She gasps, affronted, and kicks him harder.

“So you would fuck me if I wasn’t drunk?”

“Uh…” he looks everywhere but Steve’s face, which is just rude. He has a very nice face. He’s been called dreamy before.

Which made Robin laugh so hard she fell off the couch when he told her, but he’ll take the lesbian’s opinion with a grain of salt.

He makes his way onto the dance floor. He’s not a particularly good dancer, but he shakes his ass like he means it. Gets up close with a guy, stares at Eddie the whole time. Keeping eye contact as the guy puts his hands on his hips.

Look, he means to say. This could be you. You could lose your chance if you’re not careful.

From the burning in Eddie’s eyes, he gets the message.

The message is a bunch of bullshit. It’s been over four months, he’s in too deep to go fuck off with someone else now. Still, he enjoys the way Eddie’s hands flex on his thighs, like he had to stop himself from reaching out.

The thing is, Steve’s not an asshole. He can take a hint. No means no, and all that jazz. If Eddie really didn’t want him, he’d fuck right off and find someone who did. He even started to.

Except Eddie pouted up a storm when he flirted with someone else. Got even clingier when Steve tried to back off. At this point, he’s accepted that Eddie does want to fuck him, and maybe even be more (no one flirts with someone as long as they’ve been doing without wanting something like a relationship out of it. At least, he hopes there’s something more on the horizon), but has some weird hang up about Steve being even a little bit buzzed when it happens. Even though they only ever see each other at this fucking bar.

The problem is Steve has no idea when Eddie will be at the bar. He’ll stay sober one night, hoping to see him, and then go home alone only for next time to be when he sees telltale curls and a wide smile. It’s driving him up the wall.

Robin has been similarly affected.

“It’s been six months,” she growls as Steve looks eagerly around. “Six fucking months of you two dancing around in the worlds most annoying mating ritual. I’m going to kill both of you.”

“We’re not that bad,” he says absently.

“You don’t even have his phone number. It’s pathetic. I swear to God, if you see him again and don’t get laid I’m reviving the scoops board. I will go out and buy a whiteboard to keep track of all the times you strike out with a man who used to walk on tables. He stepped on my lunch, Steve. Do I need to keep bringing up the fact he stepped on my delicious, nutritious PB&J? I can’t believe that’s the guy you decide to be obsessed with, that’s so fucking embarrassing for you.”

“Embarrassing? You mean like your crush on my ex girlfriend?”

She screeches wordlessly, pulling her keychain off her belt loop and attacking him with it.

Naturally, that’s how Eddie finds them.

“I swear you guys get weirder every time I see you.”

Steve grins guilelessly at him, holding a flailing Robin in a headlock.

“Eddie! Hey! It’s been a minute.” He hasn’t been able to come in a month, and it’s been longer since he’s seen him. It’s honestly one of the deciding factors on whether it’s a passing fancy or a full blown crush. He still went to sleep every night thinking about Eddie. It didn’t even have to be about sex.

Although maybe not sleeping with anyone else for half a year should have tipped him off sooner.

“Sure has, big boy. I was starting to think you were getting sick of me.” It’s a joke, but Steve catches an undercurrent of insecurity.

“That’d make my life easier,” Robin snorts. She finally wiggles her way out of his hold. “I saw Arty somewhere around here, I’m gonna see if I can crash at her place tonight.” She levels Eddie with a look. “He hasn’t had anything to drink. If you don’t put him out of his misery, I will. And it won’t be the good kind. It will be the bad kind. With bad screams. Lots of screaming, and someone will call the pigs, and I’ll be arrested and jailed for life. Do you want me to go to jail, Munson?”

Eddie shakes his head dumbly.

“Good! Then do something about it.” She slaps Steve’s back, a mocking echo of his jock days. “Go get ‘em, slugger!”

With that, she’s gone, disappearing into the crowd.

“She is,” Steve remarks with amusement, “the worst wingman on planet Earth. Mars too, probably.”

“I dunno, I think it might be working.”

“I’m not doing anything without a condom,” he says, eyes narrowed like he’s waiting for an argument.

“Me neither,” Steve agrees. “Robin has, like, this big fear of diseases. Totally got me with it. She pulled out the library books, those pictures were fucking disgusting. Shit showed up in my dreams, man. Neither of us do anything without protection.”

“I’m going to be totally honest with you, because I haven’t been and it’s starting to eat at me,” Eddie says, hovering above Steve.

Steve wrinkles his nose. “What is it? Are you a spy or something? Are you Russian? Do you have superpowers? Is your name not actually Eddie?” He pauses. “Oh, God, you’re not even Eddie Munson, are you? I’m just some asshole who’s been calling you by my old classmates name and you were too embarrassed to correct me. Shit, we made so much fun of you for walking on tables too—“

“What?” Eddie covers his mouth, expression hovering between amused and baffled. “What the fuck, why would I go along with that? No, Jesus, I’m Eddie Munson. Moved to Hawkins when I was eleven, took senior year three times, walked on the fucking tables, could you let that go?” He moves the hand covering Steve’s mouth to play with his hair, looking annoyed for a minute before it smoothes to trepidation. “No, I, uh, I just felt like I needed to tell you that I used to have a hate-boner for you in high school. Like, I used to jack it to the thought of kicking your ass and making a mess outta you. In more ways than one.”

Steve stares.

“Also, that’s kind of why I approached you in the bar in the first place,” Eddie blabbers on. “And then you said you were just there for a friend, and I was disappointed but it’s whatever, yanno? And then then you told me about your dad, and threw my expectations to the fucking wolves, and then you asked me to come up to your apartment except you were drunk and you probably didn’t mean it. But then the next time I saw you, you kept flirting with me, which you were not supposed to do, and I kept pretending that wasn’t the reason I even talked to you in the first place, and, uh, yeah.” He smiles nervously. “Surprise?”

“I mean, not really.”

“You’re such an asshole, fuck off. At least pretend to be shocked.”

“It’s not my fault you stare at my legs all the time,” Steve says, affronted. “I know I didn’t do too good in school, but I’m not dumb enough to miss that. Like, hello, my eyes are up here.”

Eddie lets his arms give out, flopping on top of Steve heavily. Steve wheezes. “Am I really that obvious?” He whines into his shoulder.

“You got sad and pouty when I even looked at another guy.”

“You could’ve fucked him,” he mumbles. “The guy you were dancing with. It wasn’t any of my business. I’m a big boy, I can deal.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t want to fuck him,” Steve says. “I wanted to fuck you. Can we go back to that please?”

“Thought I was fucking you.”

“Someone’s getting fucked or Robin will kill both of us. I’d like to live tomorrow morning. And not have to deal with any more of her teasing for having no game.”

“You have unfortunate amounts of game,” Eddie sighs, tracing the side of Steve’s neck. It tickles. “It’s kind of embarrassing for me.”

“Yeah, yeah, are we using those condoms or not, Moodkiller?”

“Oh, I’m the mood killer?”

“Yes,” Steve says matter of factly, and pulls him in for a kiss before he can protest.

#gay bar au #steddie #stranger things fanfic #eddie munson #steve harrington #robin buckley #featuring robin as the worlds worst wingman #i'm never not going to bully eddie for walking on those tables #'why does everyone here hate me🥺' mf it's bc you keep putting ur nasty ass shoes where people eat #i've said it before and i'll say it again. someone should have yanked on his leg and made him faceplant. he would have deserved it #we stay billy bashing 💪#in this au the byers didn't move to california #jonathan still goes to school there tho #why? bc he and argyle are soulmates and time and space moved for them to make sense next question #i need u to know eddie does not have sex magic and steve isn't actually as smooth as eddie thinks. they r just obsessed with each other #that one person who was in my notes truthing ab a stoncy threesome. i was excited when i saw that bc i had this written hope u see it <3

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topnotchquark · 4 months

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Nico saying that Lewis gives his daughters boxes of presents every Christmas just got caught in my mind.

Imagine you were a mixed race boy born in Hertfordshire, different from everyone else around you. Bullied in school, being raised by your father to compete in a sport where money is very much of essence and you and your family do not have a lot of it. And then you meet this other boy who comes from the kind of life you dream to live one day. You're friends and fierce competitors. You find solace in each other. You visit Monaco for the first time with your friend, dreaming up the life you will have when you make it, when you beat out of the mould that the world thought it could capture you in.

And then you two grow through the ranks and you're at the pinnacle of your sport and you have what it takes to win and the world recognises that you can win. And you win. You win with your friend and fiercest competitor by your side fighting with you for those wins, and this fighting ruins something something that was valuable to both of you when you were still innocent and unsullied by life.

But despite everything that went into the doing and undoing of this relationship, you still realise that this person you once called a friend has a life and family beyond your bitter dynamic. He has children, and children need love and affection and good memories. And you're a better man now so you understand that. So you make sure the kids get gifts on Christmas. And you make sure of it every year. Afterall, if you met someone you loved deeply when you were both kids, wouldn't you feel a pang of nostalgia when they had kids. Wouldn't you try to extend the warmth that you couldn't find for your friend to his children. Afterall, whatever happens during childhood basically remains with you forever.

#and nico's perspective of the same is just #being bullied as a child and being profoundly lonely till you find this friend who is in many ways the yardstick for performance #and even when you go through all this rancidity and the love has almost evaporated down to bare bones politeness #you know there is something that remains deep down #and so he gets your kids Christmas gifts each year #both their childhoods were sites of pain and both of them found something with each other #and lewis honours that by being a positive presence in nico's childrens' lives #albeit from a distance #and of course we're no strangers to how much Nico loves his kids #you can bet if Lewis had kids Nico would do that same #sorry this caught in my heart a little #I knew he had been giving presents for a while and I always thought of that as very beautiful but seeing it on the tl made me remember #man #love haunts you in such peculiar ways forever #brocedes #lewis hamiton #nico rosberg #f1 #formula 1

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mattmaesonnatural · 2 years

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Season 4: Chapter Six — The Dive

#Stranger Things #Eddie Munson #Steve Harrington #steddie #Dustin Henderson #Stranger Things Edit #Strangerthingsedit #Steve x Eddie #mine #they look like ex's #or like they made out and never talked about it and now are seeing each other for the first time since then #fjdklsjd #someone said divorced dads who are doing the weekly switch of the kid but are still very much in love with each other #dustin parenting trapping them full send

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strawberrybyers · 6 months

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the byler kiss is going to change lives. the passion, the frustration, the sadness, the yearning, the love, the shame, the fear is all going to be released in that kiss. like the kiss scene is going to be on a whole other level of cinema

#as you see i have a vision of how the kiss should go and i need it to be executed exactly as i see it in my brain #like the wanting to pull away and they both do but then they realize no i love you and kiss again and they’re just holding each others faces #like bitch omfg i NEED THAT #I NEED YEARNING I NEED PASSION I NEED TO BE SLIDING DOWN A WALL CRYING #byler #will byers #mike wheeler #stranger things

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catharusustulatus · 2 years

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Headcanon that Steve is a good cook but never uses the right tools. He taught himself to cook out of necessity and ended up loving it because it’s a mindless activity that also provides; he still gets a lot wrong. Here he is making Eddie and Wayne a full Thanksgiving dinner and he’s using an omelette spatula to scrape pumpkin pie filling out of the bowl. Even Eddie knows that’s wrong…but he can’t do anything but beam as he watches Steve, tongue out in concentration, humming a top 40 song, kitchen towel over his shoulder, making him and his uncle and three course meal.

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #st headcanons #I couldn’t get this out of my headddd #Steve is domestic as fuck #you can’t tell me Steve isn’t buying all the pumpkin and apple themed foods every fall #and baking up a storm #always bringing pumpkin bread to the wheelers house when everyone meets up in the basement #robin’s mom and Steve share banana bread recipes with each other they’re on a first name basis #like hey Connie you see condensed milk is on sale? he says to robin’s MOM #anyway just an idea

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plistommy · 2 months

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Steve and Eddie are definitely the annoying couple who keeps making out in front of everyone because they can’t keep their hands off of each other for too long.

Like, it’s a movie night for example and not even twenty minutes in and Steve’s already sitting on Eddie’s lap as they make out and let these small giggles that makes everyone hiss at them to shut the fuck up.

And when they play DnD, everyone real focused, there comes Steve bringing everyone some snacks and sodas and lord behold their beloved Master is already up and going to hug him like they weren’t just in the middle of a campaign.

Dustin gives them shit for it the most, but he secretly really loves them together. He just likes to be a dick.

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thestobingirlie · 8 months

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stobin’s lavender wedding is beautiful and full of tears and love. (it’s a late spring wedding, erica is a bridesmaid, dustin is the best man. he and steve have matching coloured ties, and robin wears an incredible 80s puffy wedding dress). robin’s dad sobs walking her down the aisle, steve’s crying before he even gets to vows, robin starts crying during the vows, and there’s no way dustin’s getting through his speech without tears, let alone the rest of the wedding.

they give each other a little peck, their vows are heartfelt, and from that day they call each other husband and wife. because yeah, it’s not sexual, but that doesn’t matter!! they love each other. they’ve chosen to get married, not just for tax benefits, but because they want to stay at each other’s side for the rest of their lives!! they’re still dedicating their lives to one another. their love being platonic doesn’t make it any less real than anyone else’s.

#don’t get me wrong. i appreciate all lavender married stobin content. but it’s just sad that it’s consistently turned into joke #and they get divorced the second they can marry the person they “actually wanted to marry’’#they’re each others most important person! they wouldn’t get a divorce once they marry #don’t get me wrong. they’re definitely giggling at some point during the wedding. i mean. holy shit they’re married lmao #but that doesn’t mean the whole thing is just one big joke #i guess i just don’t think stobin would only get married to be the others beard. which is why i don’t see them ditching each other #the second they can #stobin #steve harrington #robin buckley #stranger things #my post

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pettyprocrastination · 2 years

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broke: eddie munson has handcuffs in his room cause he likes kinky sex

woke: eddie munson has handcuffs in his room because he was once arrested by officer Callahan for possession of marijuana at a halloween party they busted his junior year, but as soon as Callahan sat him on the pavement and turned around, Eddie jumped up and hauled ass into the forest until he reached the trailer park. His uncle had to pick the lock to get them off his dumbass nephew (making eddie swear to 1. never ask how his uncle knew how to pick locks and 2. never get fucking arrested again) Eddie kept the handcuff’s as a memoir of the night he outran the Hawkins Police Department.

#tj talks #eddie munson #stranger things season 4 #sorry i just think its funny #hopper: what. what do you MEAN he 'got away'#callahan: HES VERY FAST AND SLIPPERY OKAY #but fr i cant imagine hopper like. giving a shit #probably has been called on that kid more than once and each time its jsut that tired sigh of 'i dont want to be here either okay'#edit: dont turn this post into a 'if you characterize eddie as anything other than my own personal hc i get mad' thing because it isnt!!#this is a simple littoe heeha i had late at night #relaistically the cuffs are most likely accessories/decor i just thought it was funny #but i keep seeing people do the 'THIS is canon ajd if you think otherwise shut the fuck up'#so lets all just be calm ajd play nice in our little fake land of blorbos

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strangerwheelerthings · 10 months

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Nancy's face goes through an expressive Journey™ during Robin's rant at Dr. Hatch and I love it.

She obviously starts out anxious and frustrated that she can't openly argue against Robin's unexpected new tactic.

Look at this face. This is the face of a quietly terrified woman who desperately wants to fix the situation, but no idea how.

But then Robin starts to get into the Petey McHew story and something starts to change.

The frustration has fled.

She's starting to see the heart and purpose of this rant. But still, that worry, is this the right way to do this? It's impressive, but could go so wrong.

Then there's this look. This right here is the real kicker.

This is the moment that Nancy fell just a little more in love with Robin.

It's before she knew if it worked. She's still nervous about that as you can see here.

That moment was not because Robin was successful, though Nancy was far more hopeful about that than previously. This moment is reminiscent of the last scene in the library when Robin challenged her idea further along, and Nancy stared at her in wonder. Yet another moment where Robin proves she is so much more than she first appears and Nancy is really starting to catch onto that fact.

In that moment, Nancy is just a little in awe, of the passion she is capable of pulling out of seemingly nowhere, of the genius of this move, of her. Robin makes her think, makes her question and reconsider, and open her mind to more possibilities, and you can see the growth of their relationship through a series of instances like these throughout the season.

#you can literally see how they get from A to B in their friendship #in a way we don't often get during shows #there are plenty of offscreen moments between them during the whole season #but we still get to see exactly how they became genuine friends by the end of a few days around each other #stranger things #robin buckley #nancy wheeler #ronance #st meta

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hitlikehammers · 4 months

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the rhythm and the music

rating: t ♥️ cw: emotional hurt/comfort, criminal-levels of softness, rockstar!eddie having a sad for missing his husband (on the road), deep undying love ♥️ tags: established relationship, rockstar!eddie, rockstar husbands, emotional hurt/comfort, soul-deep love, slice of life, softness

for @steddielovemonth day ten: Love is missing each other (@lihhelsing)

this is 100% the first attempt to separate the rockstar!husbands in je ne regrette rien for the sake of a show ♥️ (with the title being a callback to this instalment)

The facts are these:

They’ve just played their first show not-in-driving-distance of where they live. They have a label, and management, and publicists, and they made sure their shit was all paid for. They’d been asked if they wanted to get a tour bus together, or if they’d wanted someone to book them plane tickets—Eddie’d never even been on a plane before. They’d opened for fucking Slayer, and how, and during their set they’d hyped the album they were releasing later in the year—and how—it was just…it was amazing. It was everything Eddie’d dreamed of since he picked up a guitar and strummed so hard it stung his fingers.

Eddie’s walked ten paces from the stage, and it’s not for the joy of it, or even the overwhelm, that he thinks he’s gonna fucking cry.

Because the rest of the facts, are these:

Eddie hasn’t slept on his own in literal fucking years. Meaning he hadn’t slept without Steve—as his friend, as his lover, as his boyfriend, as his fiancé, as his husband, as his life-mate, as the love of his life and the mate of his soul, as his whole goddamn heart and then some—he hasn’t slept without Steve since—

Since the fucking Upside Down.

And yeah, he’d hugged him for probably ten whole minutes before they’d climbed out to make security at O’Hare, they’d been close to missing the flight altogether and there’d been a part of Eddie that wouldn’t have cared in the slightest if they had, would have called Steve back and greeted him as if they’d been separated a month and not less than an hour. And yeah, he’d called Steve’s when they’d landed at the first payphone he could find, breathless and clinching it fit to snap the receiver in two, its outline bright red against his hand for most of the afternoon. And yeah, he’d called again in someone’s office he probably shouldn’t have been in, on a separate floor of the venue, where he’d sneaked in and dialed and just asked if Steve would talk to him, not because he was nervous, but because…

Because he fucking missed him. Like, like his bones, or his veins knew on some cosmic level they’d been separated from the best part of any of them, the only reason for any of them to hold up his body at all: he could feel the distance between him and the heart he called home so clearly, this bodily loss in him, he feels a lot like how he felt when he realized there were goddamn holes in his ripped by those fucking bat, but this is bigger, because there’s a whole of him missing and people have always made comments, how they’re attached at the hip, codependent lobbed around by their brainier friends in varying tones that honestly, Eddie couldn’t give a fuck less to read into because yes, he depends on Steve, Steve is tied into the fucking cells of him, he makes up more of Eddie than probably Eddie makes up of himself, at this point, and Eddie would not have it differently for a second, doesn’t know if he remembers how to breathe in a version of his body that’s not this comprised of Steve-Steve-Steve: and doesn’t fucking want to. Remember.

What it’s like without.

And this, right here: this moment, a thousand miles away from the whole of him, when he should be on top of the world by rights?

Eddie’s having trouble with that breathing thing. These lungs don’t know what to make of air that’s not…that’s not made up of Steve, even just a little.

He waves off his bandmates, says he just needs some water, knows they’re planning to go out for the night and celebrate and honestly, all he wants it to give them the slip, feign an ache pounding in his head instead of the very real one throbbing like an open wound inside his chest. He thinks he almost manages until:

“Eddie!”

Their manager’s a petite woman, always in high-tops, wears lipstick but bites it off too often for it to stick for long, and Eddie adores her to pieces. His steps falter as soon as he hears her call out for him, and shit: betrayers, his own fucking feet. He has to turn now.

She’s smiling so goddamn bright that Eddie almost feels bad that the best he can fake for her right now is a grimace, his heart too sour as it struggles with the remembering, too—how is it supposed to beat, anyway, there are chambers in it, right, so is it one at a time, the top and the bottom together, one top one bottom, none, all, it’s so confusing, where’s his Steve—but he meets her grin and weirdly enough it doesn’t dim in the face of his expression, however pathetic it has to look.

“There’s someone who wants to see you,” she says, doesn’t wait for his response as she taps his shoulder as indication to follow when she leads the way.

“Morgan,” Eddie tries to halt her momentum because he can’t, he really just, he can’t right now, okay? He’s so grateful for the fans, and he’s sograteful for the band and the higher-ups that got them here and inviting them on this tour specifically but Eddie kinda things he’s about to collapse, or that some seams in him that he doesn’t know the exactly location of are going to pop and he’s going to spill out all blood and viscera right here on the floor and he just, he—

“Waiting for you in there, pet,” Morgan knocks on the door to one of the prep rooms that Eddie wasn’t entirely sure was made to be used how they’d used it, but it’d hadn’t mattered, they’d played their damnedest and it had been a fantastic show, if they were going to make their mark and draw in their base this was how they were gonna do it, but Eddie…

Eddie’s never played to a crowd, be it ten or ten-thousand, without Steve. Not…not since Steve.

He doesn’t think he can do this. He just wants to go home, and if he can’t go home, then he just wants to find the hotel they’re springing for and call his husband and fall asleep to the sound of his voice, his breathing, until he has to get up and start this all over again. He—

“Just a couple minutes, Eddie,” Morgan’s voice is pitched lower, and her expression is softer now, prodding but almost lulling, like she sees just a hint of his inner torment. “Then you’re free to go wherever you need, okay?”

Eddie nods, and she lays a land on his shoulder as she leaves him be; doesn’t stay to watch if he’ll turn the handle or bail. Trust him enough.

Goddamnit.

He swallows, pulse heavy and off-rhythm in his throat as he grabs the knob and pushes in.

Just a couple minutes.

He braces himself, tries to school his expression into something better than the grimacing, just a couple minutes—

It’s useless, though.

Because as soon as the door opens, his face fucking, just, falls.

Hell: the whole of him falls, the coming-apart-at-the-seams he was fighting, fearing, his goddamn knees give out on him—

But he doesn’t hit the floor.

No: strong arms wrap around him, an equally-strong and solid chest cushions him and he clings, he clings because the whole of him is coming back together, the missing pieces slotting instantly back into their proper places, he breathes in, and it works this time, because:

“Stevie,” he moans, and fuck yeah he’s kinda sobbing, because his Steve.

Is here.

“Shhh, it’s okay,” Steve’s stroking his curls still damp from the sweat, for all the run and jumping under the stage lights; “it’s all okay.”

“Baby,” Eddie keeps his chest to Steve’s chest almost compulsive; almost magnetic, but he tips is head back to see him, just to drink him in.

“Oh my god,” he marvels; “babydoll,” and he traces Steve’s cheek, his lips, disbelieving save that everything feels lighter, and he doesn’t disappear for the touch, and that means he’s real; he’s here.

“When—“ he starts, a little lost and still awe-struck, breathless in a new and much sweeter way.

“The whole time, love,” Steve brushes a curl back behind Eddie ear, so delicate: “the flight was delayed.”

Eddie tips his head; it doesn’t make sense.

“Delayed?”

And Steve just smooths both those warm palms, so broad and sure, down either side of Eddie’s neck to hold to him as he smiles so soft:

“I booked it at the counter as soon as I dropped you off,” Steve tells him simply, then the softness veers a little pained:

“I saw the look in your eyes,” and he leans to kiss Eddie gentle, and Eddie fucking soaks in the sensation full-on and unabashed. “I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you sooner, you were already through security, and then I ran to your gate before mine and you were gone there already, too,” he tries to apologize for…what, knowing Eddie too well, for seeing the hurt in his heart and making a U-turn immediately to fix it, damn the consequences: and how. Why?

There’s nothing here but being grateful, and thankful, and undeservedly lucky, that the partner of his whole goddamn life would do that. There’s no…no apology, there, it’s—

“We can’t do this,” Steve says softly, and maybe there’s something in Eddie’s expression, or the way that he’s quiet, or the way that he’s shaking a little, or that he tears are silent but still streaming: maybe all of the above and more, but: Steve sees.

Steve knows.

So does Eddie.

“I know,” Eddie nods; inhales deep: “I know, I thought this was for me,” he bites his lip and shakes his head, now: “I thought I could—“

“It is for you, are you kidding?” Steve cuts him off, leaning in and framing his face now, baffled and adoring all at once. Eddie stills for it, confused but loved so quick and sure and strong in just those words, in just that touch.

“You were made for this,” and it’s so fucking strange, the way those words warm him and fall sour all at once, but it’s not on bit strange that he feels beloved, treasured for all of it, no questions, no exceptions: no contest.

But…Eddie could give this up: the touring. Even the music, at least like this. He could; he would.

He can’t, and won’t, give up Steve for another goddamn night. And fuck: he didn’t even last the whole night.

He doesn’t understand what Steve means—

“The thing where we’re apart,” Steve says clear but still so gentle, still cradling Eddie into him: “that’s what we can’t do.”

Right. Right, exactly, but then—

“So I come with you,” Steve answers the question unasked, and does it like it’s simple, like there’s no question: “we budget differently at home, we—“

“No, we write this into the label’s budget,” Eddie surges into the exchange vehement, relentless suddenly and he…he’ll leave this, he knows it in his bones; if he has to there is only one thing he cannot be without: “if the band wants me, and if the label wants the band,” he shakes his head, defiant; “one more ticket can’t be what makes or breaks them.”

And fuck them, if it is.

And god: the way Steve captures his lips is like a bolt of lightening, it jolts through his veins: it’s revitalizing, it’s resuscitating, it’s life itself, it’s everything.

“Maybe I could be like,” Steve speaks breathy between their lips; “some kinda of manager, or security, like on paper?” then they’re lost to kissing, licking, biting a little and he only adds on when they part for breath:

“Personal assistant, I don’t give a flying fuck, Eds,” Steve gasps, then dives in, frames his face and pulls him in and then rests their foreheads close as he breathes:

“I need you,” and he kisses it into Eddie in a way Eddie’s never felt before, so much weight: “I need you.”

“You’re the air,” Eddie breathes back, bowled over by Steve’s ferocity and the rise of fervent need, undying love in him to match.

“It felt like I was,” he licks his lips, doesn’t want to go back to feeling so lost and pained as he walked off the stage; “I,” he gnaws a little on his bottom lip then, until Steve swipes a thumb over it, soothing him away with such gentle care as it gives him courage to put words to what he knows so deep:

“I don’t remember how to be without you.”

And it’s in the quiet between them just so that Eddie clocks his pulse against Steve’s hold, evident for the pressure of Steve’s touch and he chuckles, watery; Steve’s eyes slant in askance. He grins a little, just shy of sheepish, but brings Steve’s hand to his chest without a thought, the whole of him given to this man without question; always.

“It’s right again,” he breathes out, and yeah, yeah; “it was like it forgot how,” and he presses Steve closer as he squeezes Steve’s fingers in the cadence of his own blood, for the words he can’t quite get out.

“But that’s how it felt, like it forgot so it was just,” Eddie shakes his head, then brings Steve’s fingers up to his mouth to kiss as he whispers: “a mess.”

And he bows his head close, and misses seeing Steve’s eyes for it, but Steve is everywhere, Steve is here, Eddie can hear him breathe, the world’s at rights, and before, it was—

“I was a mess,” Eddie chokes out, leaning more into Steve’s touch than kissing on his hand but it’s okay, it’s all okay because Steve’s there, and he knows, and he’s reaching and cradling and bringing Eddie to his shoulder, wrapping around him and—

Eddie doesn’t have to be a mess anymore.

“I love you so goddamn much,” Steve breathes, and just holds him tight, safe, and it’s everything he needs. It’s perfect. Steve’s perfect.

They’re perfect.

“You saw the show?” he asks, voice a little tinier than usual when he finally stills, sniffles, leans back just the slightest bit.

Steve nods, kisses the tip of his nose. “You were incredible,” he tells him honest, shining so bright with it: the joy and the pride, in Eddie; “just like always.”

And Eddie bites his lip and hides back in Steve’s embrace again, but this time he’s smiling so fucking hard.

“The boys going out?” Steve asks after a couple beats, into the curtain of Eddie hair.

“Yeah.”

“Do you want to go with?”

It’s an answer with no expectation, only curiosity. Which might make it…harder.

But so much better.

“I,” Eddie starts, makes himself straighten a little, bear some of his own weight. “I wasn’t gonna,” he swallows hard before admitting:

“Was gonna just go back and call you.”

Steve doesn’t apologize, or pity him. Steve doesn’t do anything but run hands up and down his arms, his neck, his back: present. Support. Love, always. For all of it.

No matter what.

“This is big, baby,” he finally breaks the still, but never stops the soothing motions of his hands: “I will do whatever you want to, whatever you want me to,” he tells Eddie, clear and devoted and once more time: no wrong answers. “I can come with you, I can go back to the hotel with you,” his voice dips a little lower and his smile turns a little sly; “I can wait in the hotel,” and for the first time Eddie laughs, just the littlest bit, heart leaping the tiniest little jump: “for you,” and it doesn’t have to be sad again, or really ever, for Eddie to know without a shred of doubt.

There’s no wrong answer.

“I don’t want to be without you,” is the surest, purest thing he knows, so he starts there. “Not right now, not,” he swallows hard and meets Steve’s gaze, no matter how watery his own starts to get, yet again: “not ever.”“Okay,” Steve answers with a nod: whatever Eddie wants.

Jesus H. Christ: but beyond this man, what more could he ever want?

“I should celebrate with them,” Eddie settles on as an answer finally, whenSteve doesn’t move, when his strength and his steady presence bolsters him without end, here: “this was a big deal,” and it was. Before the loss and the wishing and the missing consumed him, Eddie was very much aware of that. He knows, now, they never should have tried to be apart like this. It wasn’t worth it.

He knows, now, that they’ll never try again: and that’s what counts. “You okay with that?” Steve prompts, so clearly in Eddie’s corner, so ready to support whatever’s best for him, and fuck anyone else.

Eddie loves him so goddamn much.

“Yeah,” Eddie’s able to answer with a level of certainty that would maybe surprise him, if Steve weren’t here like this at his side:

“Yeah, I am,” and Steve smiles at him like the goddamn sun coming out from the clouds, like he always does, the body Eddie charts his orbit around by rote:

“Sounds like you’ve got a plan, then,” and Eddie can’t help it, he cannot possibly help but to lean in and capture those grinning lips, to devour some of that endless light.

“I love you with everything, Steve Harrington,” Eddie breathes, wondering again; “whatever comes of any of this,” he drags his lip against Steve’s with every syllable: “you know that you’re my one and only, my first and foremost,” and he draws back just enough to lock eyes, and make sure: “yeah?”

And Steve holds his gaze for a moment, another, before he smiles a different smile; his own kind of wonder. “Never thought I’d be able to say it,” he shakes his head with that warm, that grin; “but yeah,” and it’s honest, and Eddie’s chest swells for it: “I do know.”

That….that right there is worth more than any tour, or headline, any album or award. Steve is worth more; but Steve knowing he’s loved?

Eddie could never do a goddamn thing in this world more worthwhile.

“You’re my heart and soul,” Eddie breathes into him: “the rhythm and the music,” he reminds him, as he often does, because it’s always true.

“That and more, baby,” Steve answers, because he always does just the same: “all that and more.”

And he means it. They both do. They have always meant it.

“Let’s not keep the guys waiting,” Steve grabs Eddies hand, gives him time to change course if he needs to as he laces them together one by one.

But Eddie’s not changing any course. He’s just grateful to be tethered to Steve so tight, for whatever comes next.

tag list (comment to be added): @pearynice @hbyrde36 @slashify @finntheehumaneater @wxrmland @dreamwatch

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#steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #hurt/comfort #emotional hurt/comfort #established relationship #established steddie #rockstar!eddie munson #slice of life #love so deep you can't see the bottom #steddielovemonth #love is missing each other #stranger things

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