#Eddie doodles batective eddie everywhere

[sp0o0kylights]

Part One: Merry Crisis 

It’s also on A03 (this chapter will go up too but not for a bit bc I have stupid adult work to do) 

Five days after New Years and Steve Harrington was haunting Eddie’s head.

This time at least, it was consensual. 

Mostly. 

“I thought you said New Year's resolutions were a total waste of time and a conformist’s mmrrph--” Gareth cuts off as a ringed hand claps (gently) over his mouth, Eddie’s glare burning a hole in the side of his best friend’s head. 

“No one asked you to comment.” Eddie informs him darkly.  

“He’s got you there, Eds.” Jeff teases, seated on a bin in Gareth’s garage, friends occupying the couch across from him. “It is one of your yearly rants.” 

“New Years Resolutions are just a convenient way for normies to understand my quests.” Eddie sniffs, ignoring the fact that he’d been going on about this since he showed up, several hours ago.    

 He releases Gareth’s mouth, springing up to pace another circuit round the garage. “I refuse to repeat another year in this god-awful high school--and!” 

Spinning on his heels, Eddie flings a hand in the air, the exact same way he had when he auditioned for Sherlock Holmes in Hawkin High’s performance of Hounds of Baskerville. “It is my duty as Hellfire’s DM to figure out what the hell those freshmen are wrapped up in with Harrington!” 

“Rii-iiight.” Gareth remarks. “I’m sure your obsession with this has nothing to do with those, what did you call them?”

Grant covers a laugh with a cough as Gareth pretends to think before saying: “Harrington’s big ol’ puppy dog eyes?”

Eddie’s face goes red. “I told you, I’m not crushing on Steve!” 

“Bro.” Grant says, expression calling out Eddie’s lie better than words ever could. 

“The entire planet knows you have a crush on him, Eds.” Gareth adds, leveling his best friend with a knowing look. “Frankly I’m amazed Steve himself hasn’t figured it out.”

“Shut it!” Eddie hissed, face aflame. “This is about everything else!  What he’s hiding! Why the kids--”

“--worship him.” Jeff, Grant and Gareth all finish as one, their impromptu chorus deflating Eddie like a sad balloon.

“We know.” Grant says. “You think Harrington and the kids are wrapped up in some kind of crazy conspiracy that's eating them all alive and because you have a compulsive desire to solve every mystery put in front of you, you can’t leave it alone. This is starting to become something you should really like, work on man.” 

Eddie turns his glare on Grant. 

“You need to drop out of that AP psychology class.” He demands with another sniff. “It’s rotting your brain.”

“Uh huh.” Grant says, voice dripping in sarcasm. 

“You;’ll see.” Eddie mutters as he resumes his pacing. “You’ll all see when I finally figure it out. You’ll be all,” Eddie straightens, clutching his hands together and squeezing them against his chest, “Oh-my-gawd, Eddie, holy shit, you were so right, they were hiding a huge secret!” 

“Keep dreamin’ bud.” Jeff says flatly, prompting laughs from Gareth and Grant.

Eddie takes off a shoe and throws it at him. 

(Jeff swears it was worth it.) 

xXx

10 days after New Years and Steve Harrington was right there.

Right.

There.

It would be easy to walk across the parking lot, strike up a conversation. Hell, the kids' presence makes it even easier, Eddie knows all he has to do is talk about them before Steve drives them home. 

He just--has to do it. 

"You do know the first step is actually talking to him right?" Jeff teases, leaning against the school’s doorway.

Eddie startles, flushing scarlet. 

"Shut up!" He snaps, turning around to run his hand over his face.

 God why was this so hard!? 

He's talked to plenty of people. Hell, he's talked to Harrington before. Talking was the thing  Eddie arguably did best and suddenly he just fucking…couldn't!? 

"He's waving at you." Jeff observes. 

Eddie whips back around to face the parking lot--to find that Harrington wasn't even facing their direction.

Jeff chuckles. 

"Oh screw you!" Eddie shoves  his shoulder into Jeff’s, glowering. 

Jeff playfully nudges him back. "Just go talk to him man. He didn't bite at the party, and he left you that note, so he's clearly open to it." 

"I know.” Eddie grumbles, moving so he could lean against the opposite side of the doorway. 

“So what’s holding you back?” Jeff turns to look at him now, as Eddie tangles a finger into a few strands of his hair. “It’s not like you hesitate instead of jumping into something head first.” 

Eddie hides in his hair for a moment, unsure of how he wanted to handle this question.

Jeff knew he was gay. All the Corroded Coffin guy’s knew he was gay, after the first (and last) time he tried to buy product from a supplier that wasn’t Rick. 

(Eddie was smart, but he’d been young back then. Hadn’t caught on to the fact the weed he’d been sold was laced with who-knew-what. 

What he did know was that when he and the boys tried it out; Grant had given a very emotional speech about love and acceptance, Jeff wouldn’t stop hugging people, Gareth ended up crying over gender issues and Eddie had admitted he was flamingly gay. 

He never bought from another supplier again, even if he did technically owe the guy who’d brought him and his best friends closer together.) 

Being gay wasn’t exactly the issue.

It was being gay, and having a blatant crush on Steve--the guy who the Hellfire kids loved. The guy who had surprised Eddie by being decent and downright fun. 

The guy who kept insisting he and Buckley were “Platonic with a Capital P”and even with Robin climbing all over him like a lemur, he had in fact kept his hands and eyes to perfectly respectable places. 

Who was practically built to appeal to Eddie, between his stupid sexy smile and the weird mystery he was wrapped up in, the same one that caused his smiles to drop the second he knew no one was paying attention. 

Add in the fact he’d played D&D once before and it was like God had made Eddie’s perfect match.

Of course because Eddie’s relationship with a deity of any kind was agonistic at best, they’d made Steve not only the straightest man to ever rule a high school, but also dangled him in front of Eddie constantly. 

Like a treat he could never, ever have, but will always crave. 

“Oh he’s actually waving at you this time.” Jeff says, and despite the high chance of this being another joke, Eddie looks anyway. 

Sure enough there was Harrington, dumb little grin on his face, waving his hand.

Eddie managed to get his brain to function long enough to wave back. 

“Wow Eds, you actually waved at him. That’s a lot of progress for you.” Gareth chimes in, appearing in between his friends with a smirk. 

“We’re proud of you buddy.” Grant adds, standing behind Gareth. 

Eddie groans aloud. “I hate you all.” He mutters, trying to keep a smile on his face for Steve until the guy turns back to herald the children into the car.

“No you don’t.” Gareth sing-songs, to the snickers of Jeff and Grant. 

And no, he doesn't--but fuck if Eddie didn’t want to wring all their necks. 

xXx

January 13th, Eddie finally gets his first resolution breakthrough.

It came in the form of Sinclair’s girlfriend, oddly enough, but he wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. 

“I’m not Lucas’s girlfriend.” The redhead spat, which Eddie thought was a hell of a lot of anger for someone who he had not been formally introduced to but had flung herself into his passenger seat anyway, with a declaration that he would drive her home. 

(He, of course, had been about to protest until Max reminded him with a glare that they were neighbors--which had the effect of making Steve look relieved, like Eddie was doing him some kind of massive favor.

A favor Eddie wanted.

“For totally normal non crush related reasons Gareth, god!”) 

Currently Max is staring out the window as Eddie drives home, arms crossed and in a full sulk.

Eddie recognizes it in her the same way he recognizes it in himself, and knows intimately that he has a chance to be to her, what Wayne was to him.

Someone who didn’t just see the problems he had, but acted on them. 

That began with a conversation. 

“So not that sitting in awkward silence isn’t totally fun, but uh, why am I driving you home instead of Harrington?” Eddie asks, watching Max out of the corners of his eyes. 

She doesn’t even flinch. “What, and miss the chance to ride in the drug mobile?” 

He expects the snappish response but has to give Max credit--she is absolutely the most vicious of Steve’s kids. 

“Ok fair,” He says, because getting angry back was what she wanted. Or at least, what Eddie wanted, back when he was in Max’s shoes. “But don’t all you kids like, worship King Steve? Thought you’d want your beloved babysitting to drive you home..” 

Max’s shoulders hunch immediately, her jaw clenching. “Don’t call him that.”

“Babysitter?” Eddie questions. 

“King Steve, you ass.” She bites back. “If you like him like Lucas and Dustin swear you do, then you wouldn’t be an dick.”  

Quieter, she mutters, “He hates that nickname.” 

“Hate to break it to you, but Steve gave himself that nickname.” Eddie says, if only to buy time while he swallows the fact that the kids have decided he and Steve aren't just cool with each other, but like each other.

Obviously not like-like, as in romantic like, because they weren't psychic, but--

'Focus, idiot! Max is still talking!' 

Max rolls her eyes, huffing angrily as she finally tears her gaze away from the window. “You don’t get it.” 

“I sure as shit don’t and won’t.” Eddie agrees easily, and has to look away to keep the laughter off his face at the confused look it nets him. “Not unless you want to clue me in.” 

She chews over that for a moment, before apparently coming to a decision. “You’re annoying.” 

“Oh come on Red, if you’re gonna insult me at least do it right. Annoying is boring.” Eddie fakes a yawn, and this time does laugh at Max’s outright offended face. 

Thankfully, the antics get him exactly what he wants. 

An answer. 

"Steve saw the real world and decided he wanted to be a better person. To grow up and leave all the stupid high school petty shit behind." Max says, and for a moment it's almost like she's speaking to someone else.

Likely the person she really is mad at, Eddie assumes. 

"Calling him King Steve just takes all that progress away, and for what? Cause you're jealous?" 

She's on a roll now. Eddie remains silent, knowing Max needs to get this out.

That this rant isn't aimed at him. 

"You're mad that things were easy for him? Because newsflash, they weren't. He put in the effort to be a good guy, could even," Max fakes a dramatic gasp, "--apologize!" 

An idea takes shape, both of the unsurprising source of the younger teens' hurt and frustration, and why she at least defends Harrington so hard.

Eddie may not know how exactly Max fits into "The Party" (or even who all is included within it) but it's clear she's just as close to Steve as the rest.

Maybe even a touch moreso, in a way that's eclipsed by Henderson alone. 

Max is still going. "Steve's a genuinely good person and he's earned the right to be acknowledged as one!" 

Her eyes are wet when she finishes and Max angrily swipes at them with her sleeve. 

Eddie knows better than to comment on it, but does take a moment to think her words over. 

"Have you seen it too?" He decides to ask. It's the part that sticks out to him, so it becomes the thread he decides to pull. 

Max blinks. "What?"

"The real world. Have you seen it too?"

"Yeah." Max admits, after a long moment of silence, chewing on her lower lip. "I did. And I wish I hadn't." 

"Sucks huh?"

"You don't know half of it."

"I might not know the exact parts you saw," Eddie agrees, as he pulls up in front of his trailer. "But I have seen plenty of other nasty bits and bobs." 

He puts his van in park. "Just because the monster changes shape doesn't make it any less of a danger, you know?" 

Max sits with that for a moment. Eddie sits with her, his music on even if he has the volume turned down low. 

Waits to see if she'll say more, or if this is all he's getting. 

There’s a slight hesitation--as if for a moment, Max considers opening up--but something in her balks and she opens the door instead. 

“Thanks for the ride.” She grumbles, quiet enough that he almost doesn’t hear, before slamming the door and walking fast to her trailer.

The lights are off, and the car he knows belongs to her mother isn’t in the driveway. 

It’s not unusual to be home alone at this hour. Not for Hawkins kids, and especially not for trailer park kids like them, but for the first time, Eddie finds himself wondering how often she’s alone. 

“Hey, Red!” He calls, as he makes his way out of the van. 

She turns to look at him, and Eddie realizes he must be getting a glimpse of what every adult used to see in him. Fury and discontent, all rolling over a sadness that’s bone deep and afraid to face daylight. 

“You ever wanna explain it to me, you’re welcome to come over.” He says, jerking his thumb over his shoulder at his own trailer. 

“Whatever.” Max says with an eye roll, before storming to her front door. 

Eddie waits for the lights to go on, before retreating back to his own house, feeling like he at least established something.

Even if it was just proof that he wasn’t going to blow up or brush her off like everyone else.

xXx  

January 13th's luck didn't end there.

A few hours after Eddie made sure Steve's attack chihuahua child made it home safe, a car pulls up in front of her trailer. 

Curious (and nosey as fuck) Eddie peers out the window to spot Harrington’s Beemer flick its lights off, owner crawling out and up to Max's front door with an arm full of takeout.

Steve stands there for a while, alternating between knocking and not-quite yelling, before finally putting the food down.

Eddie knows now that Steve's some kind of pseudo parent to these kids, that the intent he has towards them is a combination of brotherly and maternal. 

Can't help himself from the opportunity that arises when Harrington moves to peek into one of Max's trailer windows, though. 

"Damn Harrington," Eddie calls out, after quietly slipping onto his front porch. "Didn't know you were the kinda creep to stare into teenage girl's windows."

Steve spins, startled, and nearly goes down on the gravel while doing so. 

Eddie laughs--it's like watching Bambi on ice--but regrets it immediately when the younger man trots over to him. 

Puts his hands up and is about to defend himself out of sheer habit. 

"Is she okay?" Steve asks, trotting up the two steps so he can lower his voice. 

Eddie wiggles his raised hands in a “maybe” sort of gesture before lowering them. 

“She’s fine right now, but she’s definitely upset.” 

Steve hums, peering worriedly at the opposing trailer, takeout food sitting innocently by Max’s door. “

“She’s been upset for a while. I just…” He trails off, running his hand through his hair. “I don’t know what to do for her, you know? She’s not as easy to figure out as the others.”

Which isn’t the least bit surprising. At least, it isn’t to Eddie. 

While he can’t speak for their missing fourth member, the remaining three freshmen are the kind to wear their emotions on their sleeves, in their own ways. Mike and Dustin compete for loudest but even Lucas, the most likely to let things go, eventually explodes. 

All Harrington has to do to handle any of their issues is simply see that something is wrong, and then ask about it. 

The drive from the high school to the trailer park took less than fifteen minutes but in them, Eddie knew immediately that Max was far more like himself at heart. Angry at everything and everyone, using insults or humor to distract from her real problems. 

Eddie now was better than he was, the eleven year old kid who’d been dumped on his Uncle, extremely wary of adults and furious at the world at large. 

Like recognizes like though, even if he’s made progress. 

“I think the best thing you can do is keep being there for her.” Eddie admits quietly, because this is an area he can actually provide some insight for.  “That all that anger isn’t going to push you away. Just don’t be surprised if it takes her a while to understand you won’t abandon her like everybody else did.”

“Huh.” Steve says, and Eddie shouldn’t be surprised that Steve is taking him seriously. Not after the not-Christmas party, but he is. 

That’s part of the mystery of Steve Harrington, after all. 

The way Steve never quite reacts the way Eddie thinks he’s going to. 

“If she doesn’t take the food can you let me know?” Steve asks, and he sounds so sad about it that Eddie couldn’t possibly refuse, even if he’d wanted to. 

“Sure thing man.” He agrees. 

Harrington watches Max’s door for a moment longer before heaving himself off the porch with a sigh

“Oh,” He says, turning around partway to his car. “ We’re gonna have a movie night next Friday night. You should come.” 

‘Bing-fucking-go.’ 

“Well how could I say no to the King himself? Tell me the time and I’ll be there.” Eddie says, and then watches Steve’s face as he winces. 

Apparently, Red was right. 

Steve doesn’t rip his head off for the nickname though. Plows right on ahead, as if Eddie hadn’t called him it at all. 

"We were planning on making it just the adults--or at least, not the freshmen.” He nods towards Max’s trailer. 

Eddie raises an eyebrow. “Oh I’m sure they’re just delighted to be left out.” 

"You’d be surprised.” Steve says with a long-suffering look. “I've been informed I need more adult friends." 

Eddie can’t help but tease, though he softens his voice and grins to take the teeth out of it. "Band geek and a bunch of fourteen years olds not good enough for you?" 

"You’re forgetting my ex girlfriend." Steve adds, with his own self deprecating tone. 

“Well damn  Harrington, guess the town freak might actually be a step up for you!” Eddie says, loving that this version of Steve is willing to banter like this. 

“I dunno man, I think that nickname might be overhyped.” Steve says, and there’s that grin back on his face, the one he wore when he was stealing meaningless corporate trophies out of his father’s office. “I don’t think you’re that freaky at all.” 

He dips down in a movement that takes Eddie a moment to realize is him mimicking the curtsey he had given Eddie at the Christmas party, before getting in the Beemer. 

Then he’s gone, leaving Eddie trying to recover on the porch, wondering if the last part of that conversation actually happened or if he just wanted it so badly he dreamed the whole thing.

(When he looks back over to Max’s trailer, the takeout by the door is gone.) 

xXx 

20 days after New Years and Eddie didn’t know what he expected from a movie night at Steve’s-- but it wasn’t getting his ass kicked at beer pong. 

Of course, this may have been his fault. 

It started when Steve, three beers into a home recording of Animal House, made an off comment about Nancy Wheeler once putting all of Hawkin’s to shame at a party. 

(“Her aim has always been insane.” He'd added, as Nancy rolled her eyes and tried to hide her pleased grin behind a hand.  

Eddie had been a little surprised to see Steve hadn’t been kidding about Nancy coming--but also realized that Steve might have been serious when he’d joked about not really having a lot of friends. 

In Eddie's head, a miniature bat version of himself donned a detective's hat and cape, whipping out a notepad to dutifully write down; ‘Clue one: Steve has very few friends.’

“You, Nancy Wheeler, beat out four teams of dumb jocks…at beer pong?” Eddie asked, in total disbelief. 

“I did.” Nancy told him smugly. “And I could do it again.” 

“Really?” Eddie had said and it hadn’t been intended as a challenge, but it was taken as one.)

 Three games in, the beer having a long run out (they were actually playing “Vodka Shot Ball") and Eddie has to concur. 

Nancy Wheeler was in fact, god’s gift to throwing small orange balls into cups.

“How are you doing this!?” Eddie yells, throwing his hands in the air as Nancy sinks her last shot, Robin shrieking in victory behind her. 

Hand on her hip, Nancy gives him a lazy, smug smile. “I suppose,” She says, tilting her head, sounding for all the world like a cat who’s caught a canary, “--it would be my incredibly good aim.”

 Robin, who previously had been paired with Steve before insisting they switch (and who is more than a little drunk), shouts; “Take that Munson!” before grabbing Nancy’s wrists, pulling her into a dance. 

Laughing, Nancy goes with her, their celebration a stark contrast to the other half of the table where Steve is leaning heavily on his elbows. 

"Alright. Maybe, you do have some ungodly skills." Eddie admits, putting his hands on his head. “Forgive me for doubting you, oh Queen of beer pong.” 

"Oh, now you admit it?" Steve mutters playfully, head hanging low. "Couldn't have done it before I ran out of beer?"

"Hush Harrington, you enjoyed it." Eddie grins knocking a hip into his teammates

He too, is more than a touch drunk, despite having been on Nancy’s team for the prior two rounds. 

Vodka-Shot Ball, as it turns out, is enough to really mess a person up if you miss enough. 

"Did I?” Steve moans, before hiccupping.

(“Harrington you’re a jock, are you missing on purpose!?” Eddie had asked early in this game, when Steve’s shots had gone from fairly decent to fucking abysmal. 

“He’s two shots in, Eddie.” Robin had spoken for her soulmate, as she aimed a ball at a cup. “All those concussions don’t play nice with hard alcohol. Why do you think I switched sides?”

“I’ll remember this betrayal, Rob.” Steve grumbled in response. “See if I ever do your hair for you again.”

Batective Eddie promptly scribbled; ‘Clue Two, Steve has had a lot of concussions and can no longer handle a lot of hard liquor’ down on his notepad, puffing on his little old-timey pipe. ‘Also he does hair.’) 

“Now that Stubbornson over here has finally admitted defeat,” Steve says, “Can we please go lay down? We're way too drunk for another round.” 

“Speak for yourself, Lightweight. I’m fine.” Eddie tells him, walking towards the door to the kitchen.

Of course life cannot tolerate him being smooth and so Eddie walks dead-on into the closed glass door rather than the open one next to it. 

He staggers back and loses his balance, falling hard on his ass. 

“Shit!” Someone curses. 

“You okay Eddie?” Someone else asks.

“Yeah.” He moans, rubbing at his head. 

Wheeler appears next to him, shooing his hands away from his face so she could examine him. 

“You’re an idiot.” Nancy informs him calmly, hands expertly checking his head. Her touch is professional, but Eddie's surprised by it anyway, “But I think you’ll live.” 

Eddie squints up at her. “How come you’re not drunk?” He asks, and okay, yeah, he definitely hears the slur in his voice this time. 

"I only had three drinks across all three games." Nancy informs him sweetly. "None of them were vodka."

"I hate you." Eddie moans dramatically, before opting to lay down on the porch. 

“No you don’t.” Nancy says confidently, and then pats his head, before getting up from her crouch. “How are you doing Steve?”

“Kill me.” Comes Harrington's voice from across the patio, sounding very pathetic. 

Eddie wishes he could pet his head.  

“Denied!” Robin calls out. “Don’t even joke about that dingus, you got too close last summer as it was.”

(Batective Eddie, swaying a little with a beer bottle in his paw, tries to write that down.

He somewhat succeeds.) 

Nancy disappears for a moment and Eddie wills himself to sit up--or at the very least roll to where Harrington and Buckley are. 

"I'm going to drive myself and Robin home.”  Nancy announces as she reappears, alongside a hovering bottled water. 

Gratefully, he takes it.

With a tone that’s only this side of too-sweet, she asks; “Eddie? Would you like a ride?”

He considers it.

On one hand, that means he leaves his van here. So someone else has drive him to get it back in the morning (unless Harrington drives it to him and while Eddie finds himself weirdly unopposed to that idea, he doesn’t want to impose.

…Or inflict the current sad state of his van’s interior on Steve before he knows the guy better.) 

On the other hand, he’s clearly too drunk to drive, which means more time with a drunk Steve Harrington.

That’s gotta be good for figuring out clues, right? 

(In his head, Batective Eddie shoots him a thumbs up from where he lays, facedown on the floor.) 

 "If I get into a car I’m going to hurl." He announces. “So I’m gonna pass.” 

Nancy makes a very unlady like noise, and Eddie grins, finally managing to lurch up to his elbows. “Nancy Wheeler was that a snort!?” He teases gleefully, as she rolls her eyes. 

“Maybe.” She says, then holds out a hand. 

Eddie slaps his in it, but does his best not to pull on her. Instead he mostly uses her for balance as he works his way to his feet. 

“You guys get home safe okay?” Steve says, voice uncharacteristically serious as Robin helps him up from the pool chair he'd collapsed in. “Check in when you do.” 

That’s weird--Eddie half expects it to be some sort of inside joke or macho, alpha man type comment but instead both Robin and Nancy nod seriously. 

“We will.” Nancy promises. “Thank you for inviting me, Steve. Nice meeting you properly, Eddie.” 

She gifts him with a smile, an honest one, before guiding Robin out the door. 

Who screams; “Bye losers, love you!” as she exits.  

(Eddie thinks this might be another moment for Batective Eddie except he’s sort of getting a headache and kinda just wants to sleep rathe than envision his Sherlock Holmes styled bat-self.) 

They follow the ladies in, Eddie beelining for the first cough he sees. 

“You can sleep it off here.” Steve tells him, zombie-walking to his fridge. He pulls out a soda and chugs it as Eddie falls face first into couch cushions, taking a moment to let his stomach settle before adjusting to a better position. 

"Nah I'm just gonna close my eyes for a second." Eddie mumbles. “Be fine in a ‘lil bit, promise.” 

Does so, and enjoys the sweet, sweet darkness that envelops him. 

He jerks awake a moment later, blinking hard in the dark. A blanket has been draped over him, and his shoes kicked off, though judging from where they landed Eddie thinks he’s done that part himself.

A glance at his wristwatch reveals it's 1 AM, and Eddie goes to scrub his eyes with his hands.

Shit, he hadn't intended to stay this long. 

Harrington’s creepy Christmas shit’s all gone, replaced by walls so blank they look almost sterile. 

It creates a different, quieter vibe that's almost more spooky than the Santa-themed tomb Eddie had previous seen. The large windows throw shadows across the open space, like elongated fingers. It covers parts of the room in thick darkness, giving the appearance than anything could be hiding within them. 

There's blankets on the couch catty-corner to Eddie’s. They're rucked up, and the sound of running water abruptly clues Eddie in to where Steve might be. 

A golden glow erupts from the kitchen, then off again, before repeating the pattern.  

( Batective Eddie returns with a squeak, frantically waving a sign. 

It reads ‘Steve is afraid of flickering lights, remember!?’) 

The noise in the kitchen has gone eerily quiet. The bad kind, that makes the hairs on his neck stand up, and Eddie rolls off the couch and to his feet, making his way to the kitchen. 

Comes around the corner to see Steve frozen halfway to the stove, his head craned upward at the ceiling lights. 

Eddie knew that whatever had happened, a clear trigger for all those involved (the kids, Harrington, hell even Nancy Wheeler that one time in the library--) was electrical issues in lights. 

He clears his throat, the sound coming out like more of a growl. He coughs to clear it, then sidles closer. 

Steve has a stillness to his body that Eddie doesn’t clock until it’s too late, his hand already reaching out to tap the taller man’s shoulder. 

"Hey, uh Steve?"

Gets the shock of his life when Steve yanks his shoulder away, spinning back and around like he's been burned. 

Eddie gets a flash of wide brown eyes, glassy and wild, before a frying pan is swung at his head. 

"What the hell Harrington!" Eddie yelps, falling down on his ass and scrambling backwards, pan missing his head by inches. 

(Envisions in his head his Batective self throwing his notes in the air, taking flight with a startled “Fleeeee!”)

Harrington stands over him. Looks just like Wayne did that one time a car battery caught fire and exploded near the trailer. 

Like he was somewhere else, and prepared to do what he had to in order to get back. 

Chest heaving, Eddie put aside all thoughts of stupid bats and did what he did best.

Talked.

xXx

20 days after New Years, Steve almost takes Eddie's head off with a frying pan. 

Doesn't realize he's swung it like a weapon until he hears the surprised shout, his brain too steeped in adrenaline and old fears. 

Freezes, because the shout sounds like one of the kids but he doesn’t remember them being here...

"--eve?"

"What?" He asks, the ringing slowly easing as his tunnel vision does. 

He'd heard the growl, saw the lights flicker…

A gentle hand presses into his bicep, and he finds himself staring into Eddie Munson’s eyes. 

The guy has a sort of look on his face that says he's trying his best not to freak out, but then Steve blinks and it's gone. 

Replaced with something gentle, if cautious. 

"You wouldn't mind if I just," Eddie trails off as his ringed fingers slowly stroke down Steve's arm, before carefully taking hold of the pan’s handle. "--took this, aye love?"

It's the nickname that brings Steve back fully, and he loosens his grip on the pan, surrendering it to Munson. 

"Thank you Steve." He says, leaning to put the pan back on the stove, far out of Steve's current reach. 

Then his hands return to Steve's wrists, and he finds himself staring at them in confusion.

Not because he doesn't know what happened--he does.

It's  more that he's shocked Eddie is still willing to touch him after he nearly brained him. 

"There's egg on the floor." Steve says, because it's the easiest thought to have at the moment. 

Easier than apologizing. 

Definitely easier than explaining.

"We'll clean the egg up later." Eddie says firmly, and Steve's never heard him use that tone of voice before. Firm and unyielding, like he has all the answers.

It's the kind of voice Steve can surrender his anxiety to and he finds himself almost sinking into it. 

If Munson asked him to walk over a cliff just then, he would be more than a little tempted.

"Let's go sit down, just for a few minutes." Eddie tells him, a gentle tug on his wrists and Steve finds himself breathing out, his body shivering with the release of stress. 

He nods, unable to speak, and allows himself to be maneuvered out into his living room, then down on one of the loveseats. 

Eddie sits next to him, his thigh a line of grounding heat pressed against Steve's leg and he focuses on it to keep himself in the present. 

"You back with me?"

Steve works his throat, hyper aware of how dry it is. "Yeah." He says.

Then adds, "sorry."

"Don't apologize, man. I've done plenty of trip sitting in my day. I know a panic attack when I see one."

Steve vaguely wants to ask what the hell trip sitting is, but finds himself unconsciously leaning towards Eddie instead. 

Somehow he doesn't mind, even though Steve's practically squished up against him. Not that Eddie's ever been one to care about personal space, but Steve knows there's a difference between a teasing joke and whatever this is. 

Eddie's thumb begins to rub gentle, grounding circles into the meat of Steve's wrist. 

It gives his eyes something to track and gratefully Steve does, so he doesn't have to look Eddie in the face. 

Isn't sure he can clear the tears trying to wet his eyes in time to brush this off. 

Claim it's nothing serious.

"You wanna talk about it?" Eddie asks and somehow Steve didn't account for how direct the metalhead could be.

The tears strengthen and for a moment his vision blurs with them, before he sucks in a shuddering breath and forces himself back under control. 

'God Steven, toughen up.' His father's voice rings out in his head, the memory branded into Steve's very being. 'It's ridiculous how much you cry. Do you think anyone wants to put up with that?'

Steve had answered no then, tone wobbling. 

"I--" He starts, "--signed an NDA."

Which is not, at all, what he meant to say, but too late now. 

"The cops and I aren't exactly on speaking terms, your secrets are safe with me." Eddie says, entirely unphased. 

Which ghosts a smile over Steve’s face at least, even as he finds himself totally lost. 

How exactly is he supposed to explain this? 

The Upside Down, the Russians, hell even the way he's become hyper vigilant?

That certain words or references act like bullets, sending him to the floor in a spiral of burning panic? 

Nevermind his finely honed instinct to use anything as a weapon when startled.

Sensing his discomfort, Eddie hums quietly before making a suggestion. "How about you tell me a totally fake, very unreal  story?"

Steve croaks a laugh. 

"I'm a really bad story teller." He warns. 

"Practice makes perfect." Eddie tells him, leaning his shoulder into the taller man's. 

Grateful--and feeling more than a little pathetic--Steve finds himself seeking out the touch. 

"Okay." He agrees quietly, with a jerky nod of his head. "A--completely untrue, over exaggerated story. I can do that." 

So he does. 

xXx 

The story Steve tells in halting, fumbling bursts of words involves monsters, the supernatural, government secrets and coverups. 

The latter half of which doesn't even surprise Eddie--anyone with half a brain could see the sheer number of incidents that happened one after another was a cover up for something big-- but he can't help himself from trying to detangle reality from fiction. 

Monsters he gets. It's easier to pretend the bad guy is an evil creature than a real person, to distance yourself from it in such a way it feels fake. 

The supernaturally gifted girl is a little harder, but if you replace superpowers with some poor kid involved in some kind of shitty, abusive government program, then he can buy it. 

What Steve never explains, is what set him off. 

Eddie tells him so. 

"I told you I was a bad storyteller." Steve says in response, which isn’t an explanation but then, Eddie realizes he is pushing awful hard for a guy who he barely knows to bare his soul--and who, in turn, barely knows him.

Not really anyway.

Not outside of rumors and old wounds. 

"Is there anything that ever helps you feel safer?" 

"People." Steve says immediately. "People always help but ah, well." His smile is pained, self deprecating. "I can't exactly ask for sleepovers every night, can I?”

He shrugs. “So I just keep a few things close.' 

"A few things?"

"My nailbat."

"Is the nailbat a bat…with nails in it?" Eddie hedges, desperately attempting to keep a calm, straight face because what the fuck? 

But this was a no judging zone, and it wasn’t as if a bat with nails in it was the weirdest thing Eddie had ever encountered. Not since Uncle Wayne’s friends informed him they had at minimum, seventeen guns hidden in their own trailer across town. 

‘Things are happening at night, kid. Bad things. Don’t go too far into the woods looking for trouble.’

"Maybe." Steve admits. 

"How about instead of hugging a nail bat to sleep, if things get bad you come over. Wayne works the night shift and I have insomnia anyways." 

"Really?" 

Eddie can’t blame him for sounding surprised. 

"Yeah man. No skin off my nose, though you will be stuck hearing my beautiful sweetheart. She's a guitar sent from heaven. "

"I can handle that." He says, a smile ghosting across his face. 

Then; "Thanks Eddie."

Eddie presses his shoulder against Steve’s. "Anytime, big boy." 

(Crisis over, Batective Eddie returns, swooning. 

Eddie mentally squashes him under his own notes.) 

#I wasnt gonna write more of this but ya'llk talked me into it #Eddie doodles batective eddie everywhere #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #steve needs a hug #steddie fluff #0o0 fanfics #I guess this would be the new years special #god does that mean I should finish it with valentines day #nancy and eddie friendship supremacy