#Bro what the hell | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

theshireisburningg · 10 months

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I don't like that when they threw me in the car I gave your name as my emergency phone call Honey, it rang and rang even the cops thought you were wrong for hanging up I dial drunk, I'll die a drunk, I'd die for you

Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson | 2k

“It’s the Harrington boy again, can you tell Hopper we’re bringing him in?”

Steve leans back against the headrest and watches as Officer Powell bends through the window to speak into the radio, eyes linger on Steve as he speaks with a disappointed shake of his head. He turns to talk to Officer Callahan and Steve only catches on to parts of the conversation, realizes he's not getting off easy when Officer Callahan gets into Steve's car, pulling it off the curb and away from the scene.

The blue and red lights that were painting the street shut off as Powell gets into the driver's seat, silent as he follows Steve's BMW down the back roads.

The ride to the station is uneventful, with occasional radio messages coming through that Powell seems to ignore. The real problem starts the second he's through the doors of the station, staring down Hopper who stubs his cigarette out and stands, marches until he's only a foot in front of Steve.

"What is your problem?" Hopper's voice is quiet, but Steve knows him well enough to pick up on the angry clench of his jaw, and sees the look he shoots Powell, who drifts down the hall in an attempt to give them privacy.

"Callahan and Powell are so fucking dramatic, you know that right? I didn't do anything."

"Thirty miles over the speed limit? Drunk off your ass, nearly taking out a fucking telephone pole, you're telling me that's nothing? Doesn't sound like nothing."

"Jesus, everyone goes thirty miles over on Franklin, the speed limit is a joke."

“Yeah? And a man was left paralyzed last year after he flipped three times on the corner near Rich’s farm. Is that a joke too?”

Hopper levels him with a look that tells Steve that was a rhetorical question and you better not respond. He waves Powell back toward the two of them.

"Book him overnight."

Steve's eyes widen, feels that punch in his gut when Hopper just gives up on him.

"Hopper man, come on. Don't do this, I'll pay whatever bullshit fines you want me to, just let me go home."

"I'm not doing it this time, Steve. I know you've been through shit- we've all been through shit, but just... treating your life like it's nothing? Putting yourself in danger when you know there are people that rely on you? My kid relies on you. I'm not doing it. You're on your own for this one."

It hurts more than he thought it would, hearing Hopper go from angry to downright disappointed in him. He’s through the doors before Steve can respond, and Steve is left alone to stumble after Powell towards the back room.

The actual cell room is quiet, only occupied by one other person, an older guy Steve has seen pandering outside the package store on multiple occasions, curled up and asleep on the far bench. It reeks of cigarettes and damp cement, has Steve scrunching his nose.

"Anytime now."

Steve sees that the cell has been unlocked by Powell who gestures him in.

Steve racks his brain for any way out of this, thinks of earlier in the month when he narrowly avoided this exact situation, and grasps at straws for a rescue plan.

"Wait I- I definitely get a phone call. That's like, the law or something."

"Oh, suddenly we care about the law, Harrington?"

Steve purses his lips and stands his ground outside the cell.

"I'll be quick."

And Steve thinks Powell must have had a shitty day because with nothing more than a sigh the door is closed with Steve still on the outside, a receiver pushed into his hand.

"Quick."

Steve dials fast, punches in the only number he's ever managed to memorize. The line rings, and rings, until Steve is eventually met with a beep, quiet static signaling the answering machine picking up.

“Shit..." Steve trails off, realizing in his haste to get a call he hadn't planned as far as what to actually say when he got through. He struggles through a half-assed explanation of his night.

"Hey, it’s um.. it’s Steve. There was a mixup and I’m at the station and Hop is being a pain in my ass. If you uh- wake up and hear this I was thinking maybe you could come pick me up?" Steve pauses, sees Powell watching him, and picks up on the hurry it up in his glare. “Anyway, I, uh- I love you. Call back if you can.”

When nothing else comes to mind, Steve hangs up, hoping he sounded more put together than he feels.

"No luck, huh?" Powell raises an eyebrow, and gestures for Steve to return to the cell.

"Fuck off. He'll call back, it's just late." Steve says with no fight, dropping down onto the metal bench with a clank.

"Mhm. I'm sure."

Once the lock clicks Steve tilts back, runs a hand through his hair and down his face, feels the exhaustion setting in. Now that he's sitting still it's hitting him how fucked up he got, how drunk he still is. The room spins, and he closes his eyes in an attempt to drown it out. The sound of the clock must lull him to sleep, because the next thing he knows he's jolting awake, takes a second to get his bearing, and realize that Callahan has taken over and is banging on the bars to get his attention.

"What?"

"Jesus kid, I said you got a call. You gonna take it or not?"

At that information, Steve rises quickly and stumbles towards the barred door now being held open for him. He grabs the phone resting on the countertop and answers with a breathless exhale.

"Hello?"

"Are you fucking serious, Steve?"

Eddie sounds pissed, even over the phone, and Steve flinches back from the receiver.

"I... uh-" is the most articulate response he comes up with, trails off into silence. It seems like Eddie wasn’t done with what he had to say anyway.

"This is the second fucking time this month, I mean... you're so selfish Steve you know that? I should just fuckin' leave you there. I mean- what gives you the right to call me and expect me to drop everything to come and save your ass? Again?"

"Baby, I'm sorry, I-" Steve sees the eyebrow raise from Callahan, ignoring the voice in the back of his head telling him, to stop talking. Eddie cuts him off, probably for the best.

"Don't fucking baby me Steve. Get real."

Steve doesn't respond, has no clue what to say, but forces a loud breath out to let Eddie know he's still on the line.

"I'll be there in fifteen. Fuck." The last thing Steve hears is the phone being slammed again the hook on the other side, and Steve stares into the receiver like he'll see Eddie on the other end, pictures him fuming as he paces the hallway of the trailer.

___

It feels like he's back on the metal bench for an eternity before Eddie is coming through the door and Steve catches a glimpse of Hopper, who must have stayed at the station after all, whispering final words to Eddie who nods and enter the room alone.

Eddie hangs by the door, stares Steve down intensely but remains absolutely silent, only stepping close to slam a few bills on the counter to pay Steve's bail and pocket his car keys, ignores the mumbled thank you and retreats back to the door to wait for Steve to finish the paperwork.

Steve doesn't try to speak until they're in the privacy of the van and waits until they're backed out of the parking spot to say something.

"Eddie."

"Don't."

He does, anyway.

"Thank you."

"Do not thank me. I cannot explain to you how much I don't want to be helping you right now."

"Then why did you?"

Eddie glances at him quickly, doesn't let the eye contact linger for more than a second before he's staring back at the road.

"I don't know Steve. Because I love you? Is that what you want to hear? Because despite the fact that you don't care about me- at fucking all- that I still drop everything to help you even when you don't deserve it?"

Steve sits up straighter, eyes fixed on the side of Eddie's face, and sees the pain there in the flashes of the street lights.

"I care about you. I love you. Why would you say I don't?"

"Because if you loved me you wouldn't get fucked up- on who knows what by the way- and almost drive yourself into a fucking ditch."

"Hopper is overexaggerating. I had two beers at a party and there isn't even a ditch to drive myself into on Franklin Street anyway."

Eddie sighs and shakes his head at Steve's words.

"And if you loved me you wouldn't lie to me about this shit. I've been dealing since I was fifteen you think I can't tell you're high off your ass?"

At the acquisition, at Eddie pointing out the truth, Steve has no response, and they sit in silence for the rest of the drive.

There are lights on in the trailer when they pull up but Steve is still careful to shut the van door quietly in hopes that Wayne is asleep because the last thing he needs is to disappoint the other half of his honorary father figures.

Luck continues to not be on Steve's side, as it turns out, because Wayne is sitting on the couch when he trails in behind Eddie, sets his coffee mug down, and stands to greet them.

"Son."

Steve nods and hovers back. He would usually greet Wayne with a handshake, or a hug when it's been a particularly long time, but now he refuses to meet his eyes and counts the tiles at his feet instead of responding.

"There's coffee in the pot. I'm going to turn in for the night if you boys are alright?" He directs this part to Eddie who nods and mumbles thanks before going to grab a single mug, slams the cabinet door louder than necessary. He fills it to the brim with black coffee and stalks down the hall to his room without looking back.

Steve follows, lost, and takes the mug as Eddie thrusts it into his hands. He hovers by the door, takes a gulp as Eddie leaves, and comes back with a bottle of aspirin that he throws on the bed.

Eddie's facing away from him, and Steve sets his mug on the desk gently, steps forward until he's wrapping his arms around Eddie from behind, tries not to think too hard about how Eddie flinches at his touch.

"M' sorry."

Eddie sighs, lets his arms hang limply at his sides but makes no move to step away from Steve.

"You can't keep doing this Steve. I'm serious. This is the last time I help because I'm not going to be a part of this whole self-destructive bullshit thing you have going on right now."

"I'm going to get better. I'm trying." He rests his forehead on Eddie's back, words muffled into the fabric of his sweater.

"That's what you said last month when Hop caught you and Tommy buying coke outside Family Video."

"I'm sorry." Steve apologizes again, feels like it's the best thing that he can come up with that Eddie won't see right through.

They stand there quietly, Steve swaying them both side to side lightly. Eddie lets him but Steve can tell he's still tense, his shoulders drawn up in defense.

Eddie is the first to break the trance and squeezes Steve's wrist lightly before prying his hand off, stepping away from the warmth of his body.

"C'mon. Let's sleep."

Steve shucks off his jeans and climbs under the covers, watching as Eddie does the same. He takes the two aspirin handed to him dry, tosses the bottle back to the foot of the bed, thinks it might be useful in the morning when the hangover pain really sinks in.

Eddie faces away from him still, rolls as far to his side of the bed as he can. Steve feels the distance between them and wants to reach out and pull Eddie close but knows he has no right to.

He's not sure if Eddie is asleep but he speaks anyway, a whisper into the night.

"I'm going to get better. For you. I'll do it for you."

A beat passes with no response, no sign from Eddie that he heard at all, but then he's rolling over, eyes finding Steve's in the sliver of moonlight hitting the bed.

"You have to do it for you, Steve. Don't put that on me."

"I'm sorry. I will."

Steve sees that Eddie only half believes him, and knows they've been here before, the gap between them growing every day.

But Eddie reaches out and finds his hand under the covers, and brings it to his mouth. A faint kiss to Steve's bruised knuckles.

"I will," Steve says again, just to fill the silence. Then, "I love you," because it's the only thing he knows he can say that won't be a lie.

#bro what the hell #dial drunk by noah kahan meets steddie #this is angsty and sad youve been warned #i also wrote this in like an hour and did not proof read it #just like the ol college essays #enjoy <3 #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steddie fic #my writing

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