#Metalhoops writes

[metalhoops]

Steve’s party trick was appearing sober long past the point of inebriation. 

It was an act he’d perfected through observation. He’d watched his mother down wine like water and waltz into a garden party looking sober as a saint. So when everything went down at the Starcourt Mall, with the drugs and the appearance of another burgeoning concussion-induced migraine fogging the edges of his vision, he’d pushed through with professional tact. 

Steve couldn’t explain how it happened. One moment he was sitting on the kitchen counter, cradling a bag of frozen peas to his bare face, freezer burn nipping at the edges of his consciousness, and the next he was sprawled out on the carpet of a stranger’s house. 

What happened in between, he’d never know. 

Maybe it was for the best. Ignorance was bliss, in Steve’s opinion. His life was so much easier before the Upside Down. He would’ve been a worse person and lived a worse life. Yet his life would’ve been close to normal, not the mercurial mess it’d become.  He wouldn’t have spent the night locked in a secret underground soviet bunker, his face doubling as a punching bag for a man he didn’t know, while monsters roamed about the town. 

The mall had burned down, Steve remembered. After all was said and done, Mrs Byers dropped him and Robin off at their respective homes. Steve insisted he didn’t need to go to the hospital, that he was fine and, more importantly, that his parents were home. When Robin sobered up, she’d realise Steve had lied.

He’d told Robin a lot of things, and after the night in the mall, so had she. She knew Steve’s parents had been out of town for months, but she’d been flying too high to use any of her admittedly brilliant brain to put two and two together. Steve loved Robin. He loved her differently after that night, but he still loved her. He was human. He needed time to lick his wounds and some space. The quiet of the Harrington house had seemed like a blessing, so where the hell was he now?

“Hey, what did you take?” A vaguely familiar voice shook Steve from his stupor. 

He rolled away from the sound, burying his face in the carpet. He cringed as a  spark of pain shot through the veiled numbness that’d inhabited his body since the Russian drugs had hijacked his system. 

“Ouch,” Steve grumbled miserably. 

His head throbbed. One eye was entirely swollen shut. Even if Steve was sober, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to place the boy through his hazy vision. All he could make out were colours, pale skin, dark hair, and darker clothes. 

“I know. I know. You’ve got a real shiner, Harrington. Come on, up,” the boy instructed. 

Steve felt cool skin graze against the nape of his neck, pulling him up into a sitting position. Steve remained boneless, not making the task easy. 

He felt separate from his body, not sure where he ended and the rest of the world began. Once pulled up, he kept falling forward, his face making contact with the dark fabric of the boy’s shirt. The boy was more comfortable than the floor, with less carpet burn and more smooth leather. He smelled of smoke, sweat and an earthy kind of cologne that hadn’t been refreshed in hours.

“Elevator up,” Steve chuckled, laughing too hard for his own good. 

His ribs ached. He felt a laugh shudder through the boy’s body as he pulled Steve back, trying to get a better look at him. He held a finger in front of Steve’s face. 

“Not sure what this is meant to do but I’ve seen it in movies,” the boy commented as he moved his finger right to left, inspecting Steve’s face for something, neither boy was quite sure of. 

“Alright. You’ve gotta know I’m the least likely person to narc on you, Harrington. What did you take? Special K? Some Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds? Were you Chasing the Dragon? Gotta be something stronger than weed, man,” the boy insisted. 

Steve screwed up his nose and moved away from the man. 

“I don’t know what you’re saying,” Steve complained, trying to untangle the string of words the guy had thrown his way. 

Steve staggered to his feet, swaying before propping himself up, leaning against the wall, and feeling the whole thing tilt under his weight. 

“Dude, your walls are broken,” Steve muttered, as his legs gave out and he slid down to the floor. 

“We’re in a trailer, Steve,” the boy pointed out. Steve looked around the place, trying to make shapes from the blurs of colour and light. 

“Oh yeah,” He noted before resting his chin on his knee. 

The boy sat down in front of him, mirroring Steve’s posture, his chin resting on the bare knees of his ripped jeans. 

“Do you know what you took?” He pushed on, this time taking a different approach. 

“No,” Steve admitted, at last, sliding forward. 

The boy’s rings had caught his attention. They were little halos of light. He curiously tugged at his hand, pulling him close to examine the shine. He ran his fingers over the rise and fall of the rings. 

“Okay,” the dark-haired boy breathed, seemingly to himself. 

“I think you need to go to the hospital, dude.” 

“No hospitals,” Steve remarked eloquently as he returned to his previous position, face down on the carpet, taking the boy's hand with him. 

“Yeah well, I’m not so sure I like the idea of you sleeping either, Stevie,” He reasoned, his voice sounding strangled.   

“I’m tired,” Steve rebutted, his eyes sliding shut. 

There the boy was again, taking Steve’s face into his palm and pulling him up. For a moment, the vision in his good eye cleared enough to make out brown eyes painted with concern. 

“Look, I know we hated each other’s guts in high school but I don’t want you to O.D. on my carpet. It’s not good for the ambience,” the boy continued. 

Steve squinted, trying to place the face. Sure, he’d been a jerk in high school, particularly before his senior year, but he didn’t remember hating anyone. Not really. Maybe Jonathan, for a time, but that had passed. 

Munson. Steve’s brain supplied at last. The boy was Eddie Munson. He sold drugs and hung out on the fringes of Steve’s bigger parties back in the peak of his ‘King Steve’ era. 

“You hated me?” Steve asked, hearing the hurt in his voice before he realised what he was feeling. Eddie’s eyes widened in alarm, Steve’s face still in his palm. 

“What? No. I thought you hated me. I mean, you were a jock and I’ve got my whole ‘fuck the man shtick’, so it wasn’t like we ran in the same circles,” Eddie elaborated. 

“Jocks are ‘the man’?” Steve questioned. He’d like to blame the drugs, but he’d probably ask the question sober. 

“No. Yes. Kind of. Jocks are like... the grease for a cog in the wheel of the machine. All mass compliance to societal norms... or whatever.” 

Steve blinked owlishly at Eddie, trying to make a lick of sense out of what he’d said before resigning himself to the fact that he was completely lost. 

“I like Grease. It’s a cool movie,” he settled on, startling another laugh out of Eddie. He gently lowered Steve’s face onto the carpet and sighed. 

“Yeah, it’s a cool movie,” he muttered, leaving Steve for a moment, tossing sheets and a pillow from the sofa to the floor beside him. 

“Look, I’m going to stay up and make sure you don’t choke on your own tongue. You can stay here for the night, but I’m not letting you crash until my uncle gives you the thumbs up, weirdo.” 

Eddie slid a cushion beneath Steve’s head and draped the sheet over him. Steve was bone tired. He wanted nothing more than to sleep, but the pain in his body was growing by the moment and less favourable memories were leaking back into the forefront of his mind. He watched as Eddie placed a tape into the VCR and sat down beside Steve. It took him too long to realise the film was Grease. 

“Who’d you get into a fight with this time?” Eddie asked, seemingly aware of Steve’s sudden restlessness. 

Steve didn’t answer. He didn’t know how to. 

“Were the drugs before or after?” He pushed, searching for something Steve couldn’t work out.

Again, Steve didn’t know how to answer. Once more, Eddie let it slide. 

“You want me to call anyone? A girlfriend... or?” He doesn’t mention Steve’s parents. 

Maybe he was at more parties than Steve remembered, enough to know that the Harringtons being in Hawkins was rarer than a blue moon, less frequent than even Steve would admit to. 

“No,” Steve grumbled, starting to feel the swelling in his lip. 

Eddie nodded and let Steve have his silence. He half paid attention to the flashing lights on the screen, fading in and out of consciousness. Eddie would gently elbow his side each time Steve almost reached sleep. It was a long night, broken only by the opening of a door come sunrise. 

The light was too bright, too sudden. Steve shrunk from it curling into the closest point of dark comfort. Steve realised too late he’d curled himself into a small ball, tucking his face into the familiar darkness provided by Eddie’s crossed legs. 

“What in the Sam Hill have you gotten into, kid?” Steve heard a gruff voice ask in the doorway. Despite his words, the man didn’t sound angry, more amused. 

Steve felt Eddie pull the sheets up to hide his broken face from the light. 

“You know when I was fourteen, and I brought home that stray cat?” Eddie asked. 

Steve heard a door shutting and the scrape of a dining chair sliding against the linoleum. 

“The one that was sick as a dog?” The gruff voice replied. Probably Eddie’s uncle. 

“Same situation,” Eddie spoke.

“You’re telling me you found a kid wanderin’ round the trailer park at night and thought you’d bring him home? You remember what happened to that cat, right?” His uncle asked. 

“He went missing after a week. Then we found him half-kickin’ curled up in the back seat of the Johnsons’ cinder-blocked Austin,” Eddie muttered, stating the words as though it were a conversation Eddie and his uncle had before.  

“And you didn’t leave your room for a week.” 

“Your point, old man?” Eddie remarked.

“My point is, I love you, kid. But sometimes your bleeding heart is more trouble than it’s worth.” 

To Steve’s surprise, the sheet was pulled off his head. The next thing he knew he was face to face with Eddie’s uncle. The man shone a torch in Steve’s eyes, echoing Eddie’s movements, placing a finger in front of his eyes. Eddie watched in silence at Steve’s side. 

“He’s got a pretty bad concussion,” Eddie’s uncle supplied after a beat. 

“He was on something when I found him,” Eddie said. 

Steve was getting sick of people talking about him like he wasn’t there but in the same vein, he wanted to convalesce in peace. Eddie’s uncle shot him a sceptical look.

“Nothing I gave him, promise. He’s not letting me take him to the hospital.” 

“He’s right here,” Steve interjected.

He watched as Eddie’s uncle levelled him under his intense gaze. For the first time since he’d entered the room, he wasn’t seeing symptoms, or a problem Eddie had dropped in his lap but a boy. A kid, in Wayne’s eyes, one that looked worse for wear. It was the goddamn cat all over again. 

“I’m going to get you water and some aspirin. Eds, get some rest. No buts, kid you look like you haven’t slept a wink. Should also be safe enough for you to try to get some shut-eye, boy. I’m not Eddie, you can’t bat your eyes at me and get your way. I’m taking you to the hospital if anything happens, right?” 

Steve looked at the man with narrowly masked surprise before giving him a weak nod. He couldn’t imagine his parents doing the same, not even for one of Steve’s friends, let alone a stranger. 

“Come on, you can sleep in my room,” Eddie uttered, springing to his feet with a joviality that someone who’d gone twenty-four hours without sleep shouldn’t be able to muster. 

Steve blinked, slowly standing and gathering the sheets around himself, acutely aware of how ridiculous he looked. 

“Keep the door open,” Wayne called at their retreating backs. 

That was how Steve spent the summer of ‘85 hauled up and healing at the Munsons’ trailer. A few months later, he’d return the favour. When Eddie went missing, Wayne knew where to look. 

#steddie #steddie ficlet #Pre season 4 #because I'm on my pre season 4 #steddie bullishit #again #stranger things #fictlet #post starcourt #st 4 #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve and eddie #my unused psych degree #wants you to know that #what Steve experienced is called a #dissociative fugue #steddie drabble #drabble #Metalhoops writes

[glygriffe]

Rec list of the month

I started reading late in the month of May but here are the little gems I collected on the way. (I also started to hoard some fics to read later so there's that to look forward to!)

Supernatural

Prettiest One: A little bit of fluff to soften the pain of a broken leg. By @dean-winchester-is-a-warrior (Dean x Reader)

Untitled drabble: Making sure Dean is ok and opening a door into his psyche he rarely uses... A drabble by @lipstickandwhiskey (Dean, Reader)

Jack's Garden: A short story of what Paradise looks like for Jack, and who are his gardeners... by @posingasme on AO3 (No pairing)

A leprechaun in the bunker: a sweet story about soulmates and slowish burn by @kazsrm67 (Dean x Reader)

Untitled: a short fluffy piece about how the love of a child can change you by @shellygurumi (Dean, Castiel - kind of background pairing)

Foxholes: a mature ficlet by@thoughtslikeaminefield about Annie Hawkings and her sexy times with Bobby, Sam, and Dean that suggests more than it tells. But it tells enough to get my imagination going... (Annie x Bobby, Annie x Dean, Annie x Sam)

Homesick: a short Sam POV from the pilot episode by @mrswhozeewhatsis that is equally fluff and angst. (Sam x Jess)

Alone, I know: No one understood the emotional damage Sam endured in the Cage. A whump ficlet by Rulerofpotatoes on AO3. (No pairing)

What more can I say: to laugh a little. By @justagirlinafandomworld (Sam x Reader)

Best laid plans: (Supernatural adjacent) A sweet RPF series about falling in love in the land of the rich and famous by @thinkinghardhardlythinkingogblog (Jensen x Reader)

Stranger Things

Untitled: A season 4 Upside-down finale battle AU where Steve and Eddie fight side by side with the help of Robin and Nancy by @metalhoops. (Eddie x Steve)

Untitled: How dating Steve Harrington changed Eddie Munson? by @metalhoops (Eddie x Steve)

Other fandoms or original works

Gotta Catch 'Em All (Pokémon, Bas Guys, Etc.): a sweet IronDad trying to be a good parent to Peter. By @lemonlillybee on AO3 (Tony Stark, Peter Parker)

Necromancer EMT: Annabelle has trouble getting recertified… 😆 by @ofgeography (No pairing)

Tumblr’s lore: the love story of Todd and Annette by a collective based on a prompt by @writing-prompt-s (funny enough, no pairing - except maybe Annette x Charles)

#rec list #fic recs

[afewproblems]

I was tagged by @strangersteddierthings @eriquin and @steves-strapcollection for last sentence tag game! Thank you very much everyone for the tags! They have definitely given me the push I needed for this second chapter and helped me with fleshing out majority of chapter three!

Rules: post the most recent sentence you have written, and then tag as many people as there are words.

It only serves to accentuate the brooding silence that has followed Eddie all morning, since they walked over the threshold of Steve’s front door.

Woof, 24 words, ummm, well lets see here:

Tagging: @steddie-there @outpastthebrakers @wynnyfryd @flowercrowngods @steddierthings @inklessletter (In case you have any writing WIPs at the moment!) @henderdads @stevesbipanic @patchworkgargoyle @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @scoops-stevie @steddieas-shegoes @metalhoops @thefreakandthehair (I know some of you I have not spoken to before, or have only done so once or twice in passing, so hopefully it's okay that I tagged you!)

Tagging back @strangersteddierthings because I hope to see more of this spicy stuff!! @steves-strapcollection because I always love to see more of your work! @eriquin because I'm sure you have more of that time travel au that you're working on!

I know thats not 24 people but these are also no pressure tags! If you want to work on your WIP, please feel free to say that I tagged you!

#wip tag games #thank you for the tags my friends! #afewproblems writes #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #we got some angst brewing #storms a brewing joanie #if anyone gets that reference you are my friend for life

[2btheanswertothequestion]

Tagged by @stevethehairington 🖤

RULES:

Post up to five (5) filenames of your WIPs; not titles, file names.

Post a snippet from one of them. Snippet must be words you wrote in the last 7 days. We’re posting progress here. If you haven’t made any, go make some and come back to post.

After you’ve posted, people can send you an ask with one of your file names. You must then write 3 sentences in that file.

That’s it! You can invite others to join in or just post.

WIPS:

High school reunion

Breathless (Buckingham, Steddie)

(medieval?) outlaws

Cheating Douchebag notfic

fleabag_ask_steddie_angst

SNIPPET:

High school reunion (long, but this is the entire last bit I wrote for it)

Chrissy jerked upright.

"Oh my gosh," she said, wide eyes trained on something behind Eddie and Jeff.

They turned just in time to see Steve Harrington walk in, fashionably late, with a beautiful woman on his arm.

Contrasting the majority of their once-popular peers, Steve wasn't looking washed up or miserable – he looked as amazing as he had in his youth. That fact filled Eddie with as much ire as it did relief. Like most of the men, Steve was wearing informal attire, but he wore it better, the silver suit and indigo shirt fitting his body so well they had to be bespoke. The way he carried himself had evolved from obnoxious cocksureness to poised and mature confidence. And, of course, the hair.

It was shameful, but Eddie stared. Fortunately, he wasn't the only one – everyone stole at least a glance of their former ruler. Yes, even ten years later, King Steve was the center of the room. He seemed to barely notice it, too preoccupied by his companion. She was almost as tall as he, and the cut of her emerald jumpsuit elongated her legs while her pixie cut displayed an elegant neck. They resembled a pair of super models.

"What's he doing here?" Jeff murmured. "He didn't graduate with us."

"I think his… wife? I think she did," Chrissy said. "I recognize her."

"She's the girl he drove to school every day the year after he graduated," Eddie said.

Chrissy gasped.

"That's right!" she hissed excitedly, thankfully not questioning why the fuck Eddie knew that (he still cringed at himself). "She was in band? What was her name… Roxy? Roslyn?" She frowned and shook her head. "Anyway, everyone was gossiping about them."

"Everyone?"

Chrissy awarded him the kindest eyeroll of his life. "Everyone in my circle. No one knew what their deal was – they seemed close, but he dated other people and she didn't date at all. It started after he and Nancy broke up, and… I guess she was waiting for him to notice her like that." Her gaze followed them as they made their way forth, making pleasantries with the brave souls who dared to approach them. "Seems like she got him in the end."

Chrissy sighed dreamily, like it was the height of romance. Eddie was inclined to agree. After being dumped and nearly dethroned, the most handsome boy in town befriended this ugly duckling who helped nurse his wounds and his heart. Staying by his side, a loyal friend even when he courted others. Quietly hoping he would open his eyes to what was in front of him all along. And at last, her patience was rewarded, and he realized it was her he wanted.

A clichéd, juvenile, teenage dream. A fucking fairytale. But a romantic one.

"They're a good fit, aren't they?" Chrissy mused.

"You think?" Jeff said.

"Yeah. He's always been gorgeous and she's stunning." She rested her chin on her palm, drifting away with a smile. "She looks kinda tough. I bet they're a total power couple."

"No Pressure" tag list: @spinmewriteround, @madaboutmunson, @metalhoops, @loveinhawkins, @anything-thats-rock-and-roll

#tag game #steddie #buckingham #aka the only things I have ideas for nowadays

[metalhoops]

Steve was used to climbing out windows. Before his junior year, he’d made a habit of entering through and escaping from girls' houses unnoticed. He was stealthy. He’d learned how to scale trees and tread lightly across roof shingles with the deftness of a nocturnal animal. Yet, for the first time, he found himself escaping his own home. There was a first time for everything, right? 

Steve’s parents were home. The second Steve saw the familiar BMW pull into the Harrington’s driveway, he knew he wanted to be anywhere but home. His parents were only palatable when he had good news, but all he had to tell them was that after their last visit, The Mall had burnt down and he’d gotten a new job at a video store. He really was doing the family proud. He didn’t want to deal with it, not today. 

That’s how he found himself crawling out his bedroom window, shimmying across the guttering and trying not to sprain his ankles as he dropped onto the lawn. He headed out back, past his pool and into the woods. Usually, it was the last place you’d find Steve. He kept expecting to run into a Demogorgon or something equally as nasty. 

He walked for a while without direction, trudging through the underbrush until the rustling of leaves behind him set his teeth on edge. His body moved before his mind had time to keep up. He spun on his heels, hand scrabbling to the forest floor in search of a weapon. It supplied him with a fallen tree branch, almost too large to heft comfortably, but he did it, running on adrenaline. He came face to face with a familiar, wide-eyed boy. 

“Holy shit, Harrington. Take it down like ten notches,” the boy grumbled, showing his upturned hands as though trying to calm a startled animal. 

Hawkins was a small town, the kind of place where everybody knew everybody. Steve knew the boy with deep brown eyes and dark hair, halloed by fallen leaves, was none other than Eddie Munson, or as he was colloquially known, ‘The Freak’. They’d gone to high school together. He thought the guy was due to repeat his senior year, again. He didn’t know what he was doing alone in the woods. 

“What are you doing?” Steve asked.

You couldn’t blame him for being on high alert. Even if Eddie was someone he’d grown up with, that didn’t make him safe. Steve was still riled up after running down Billy Hargrove with his car. He was paranoid. He’d had a rough couple of years. 

“Collecting sticks,” Eddie breathed, indicating the large bundle in his hand. 

“Collecting sticks?” Steve echoed. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe him. He couldn’t fathom why the guy was doing it.

“Yeah, I’m making a miniature log cabin for my D&D campaign, and you know, miniature logs are just... sticks—you don’t care, anyway. Sorry for startling you, my liege.” Steve tilted his head, thinking the acronym was familiar. 

“Is that the dragon game, with the Demogorgon and junk?” Eddie looked at Steve like he’d sprouted a third head.

“How the hell do you, Steve ‘the hair’ Harrington, know what D&D is?” 

Steve wished people would stop calling him that. Every time he heard the stupid nickname it felt like someone was rubbing chunks of asphalt into his gravel rash. He wondered if Eddie felt the same about his title. 

The old Steve would’ve used it just to spite the guy, to see what buttons he could push, not because he wanted to but because it was expected of him. It wasn’t an excuse. He knew that. Instead, Steve shrugged his shoulders and told the truth, something the old Steve never would’ve done.

“I babysit some nerds who play it,” he confessed. 

Eddie looked at Steve in wonder. He was puzzled, amazed and, for once, a little intrigued. He’d never looked at Steve like that back in high school. The two rarely crossed paths and when they did, they never spoke. Sure, Eddie ranted about ‘jocks’ as a whole, but Steve had always just been one piece of a puzzle. It would seem redundant to yell at a patch of blue and grey for being a picture of the sky. 

“Why did you need to take up a babysitting gig?” 

To answer that, Steve had to embellish a little. Maybe he no longer liked lying about who he was, but he couldn’t exactly dump the cosmic mind fuck that was The Upside Down on some unsuspecting guy. 

“I needed money.” 

“You needed money? What, did you get cut off?” Steve shrugged in response. 

“Christ, what did you do? Piss in a family urn? Trash the house? Get a girl pregnant?” Eddie questioned.

“I think generally existing was enough to do it,” Steve mumbled, kicking at the dirt beneath his shoes. 

Eddie let out a low whistle. 

“Hey Harrington, think fast,” Eddie called, throwing the bundle of twigs in his direction. Steve dropped the branch and grabbed the bundle with wide eyes. 

“What was that for?” Steve choked. 

“What are you doing in this neck of the woods, anyway?” Eddie asked instead of responding. Steve shrugged, still cradling the bundle to his chest. 

“Avoiding my parents.” 

“You got any plans for the rest of the day?” Eddie spoke. Steve responded with a shake of his head. 

“Well, you know, this really is a two-person job, so if you wanted to come back to my place, it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.” 

For some reason, Steve agreed. 

Eddie had a habit of collecting strays. 

There was the cat he’d kept under the bed when he was six and the gathering of stray dogs that hung around the back of the trailer park that he’d been feeding for as long as he could remember. The same theory applied to people. He made friends with the loners, the weird kids, the ones with wide eyes and nowhere to go. He was a bleeding heart, so sue him. However, he’d never expected Steve Harrington to trigger his urge to protect and befriend. That really hit Eddie out of left field. 

Never in Eddie’s wildest dreams did he imagine he and Steve would be sitting across from each other at his small dining table, Steve’s knee pressed on the inside of Eddie’s thigh. The jock’s still hands held small bits of twigs in place as Eddie worked around him with his hot glue gun. The guy had seemed so lost, back in the woods, so unlike how Eddie remembered him. He knew about D&D for Christ’s sake. Eddie wondered if he’d woken up in an alternate universe because it seemed like Steve Harrington was actually a good dude. 

He asked Eddie about his goddamn log cabin, tavern. Then he’d pushed deeper. ‘Why do you need a bar in a game about dragons’? To which Eddie explained, of course, you do more than just fight dragons, which appeared to be news to Steve. Besides his friends, no one showed interest in Eddie’s ‘stupid little fantasy game’. With Steve, questions came thick and fast. Eddie loved every second of it. When he’d asked why Steve cared so much, the guy had shrugged his shoulders and muttered,

“I might be able to impress the kids.” 

Eddie decided to ask about ‘the kids’. He and Steve didn’t have much in common. Sure, the two could commiserate about high school together, but neither man was in the mood to do that. And god, Steve could talk about ‘the kids’. 

“I run a D&D club called Hellfire. If they’re starting high school this year, send ‘em my way. I’ll tuck your little ducklings under my wing. Keep the big scary jocks away from ‘em,” Eddie noted, feeling comfortable enough with Steve to take a jab at him. Steve surprised him again by snorting out a laugh.

“Make sure you do. That Jason kid’s a senior, right? Total psychopath. The kid would peg basketballs at pigeons.” 

By the time the sun set, the boys were in stitches and had a fairly decent log cabin to show for a day’s work. Eddie was surprised that the idea of Steve leaving set a pit in his stomach.

“Hey, Steve? We should do this again,” Eddie proposed, and Steve was too quick to agree. 

“I have work tomorrow morning, but how about the afternoon?” 

Eddie hadn’t expected the guy to be as keen as he felt. 

“It’s a date,” Eddie agreed, before promptly wanting to shove his head through a miniature log cabin. A date? Really, Munson? 

A flicker of amusement crossed Steve’s face as he shoved his hands into the pockets of his too-tight jeans. Mind out of the gutter, Munson. You were doing so well. 

“You’re weird, you know that?” Steve remarked, running his hand through his trademark hair, and yeah, Eddie should’ve expected that. 

Now Steve was going to call him a Freak, the ‘King Steve’, he’d heard about would make an appearance and Eddie would be glad he dodged a bullet by cutting his crush off at the knees before it had the chance to grow legs. 

“Weird is good,” Steve corrected, seeming aware of Eddie’s inner turmoil. 

“One thing I’ve learnt about myself since high school is that I like weird.”

Oh, no. Eddie was so gone for Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington. 

Read Part 2

#steddie #steddie fic #steddie drabble #steddie ficlet #drabble #ficlet #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #alternative 'first' meeting #pre season 4 #long post #I always forget to tag that #just assume all my drabbles #are long posts tbh #thing I had to google to write this #'when were hot glue guns invented'? #apparently the 50s #Metalhoops writes

[metalhoops]

‘Of course, I remember you.’ 

As far as first words go, Eddie’s were a hell of a head-scratcher. 

To catch up the uninitiated, everyone in the world has a soulmate. It’s been debated and speculated if a person can have more than one, but the mechanics behind soulmates was a pseudo-science at best and downright magic at worst. The first words a person’s soulmate spoke to them were inscribed somewhere on that person’s body, typically in their soulmate’s handwriting. 

Doesn’t handwriting change over time? The uninitiated might ask, to which Eddie would repeat, it’s pseudo-science or magic. Either that or something like quantum mechanics, where people are pretty sure, one day we’ll understand how it works, but right now there are a lot of theories and only a little bit of evidence, most of which contradicts itself.

Most of the time, the words are boring and wholly unhelpful. He could count on two hands the number of people that simply had some variation of ‘hello’, tattooed somewhere on their body. From Eddie’s point of view, he got lucky. 

He had a sentence of scratchy scrawl written on his inner arm stating, ‘of course, I remember you’. And really, what the hell was Eddie meant to make of that? 

Typically, your tattoo lets you know you’d found your soulmate upon first meeting, but his words implied he’d meet his soulmate before they first speak and that it would be memorable. Wasn’t that goddamn frustrating? 

His soulmate’s first words were right up there with ‘hello’ in Eddie’s list of ‘top five worse soulmate marks,’ because how the hell were those poor bastards meant to know if they’d just met the love of their life or if it was just their weird neighbour Tom? With his number one spot reserved for Gareth’s truly horrific, ‘I’d thought you’d be taller’. His soulmate was original. He’d give him that. 

There was no surefire way to know your soulmate’s gender, same as there was no surefire way for a mother to ‘just know’ a baby’s gender before it was born. Yet if Eddie was being sacrilegious, as he so often was, he’d say he ‘just knew’ his soulmate was a guy. 

There was nothing in the handwriting that gave it away. Nothing particularly ‘feminine’ or ‘masculine’ about the lettering. But ever since Eddie was a kid whenever he thought about his soulmate, he’d always think of them as ‘him’. 

He would like this or that. He wouldn’t be an asshole, like the meathead jocks at Hawkins. He would be different. He’d be kind, caring, and of course, a total badass. Eddie just had to wait to meet him. 

Steve’s soulmate mark drove him crazy. 

‘You might not remember me’. 

What the hell was Steve meant to do with that? Soulmate tattoos were meant to let you know when you’d met your soulmate, not that you’d already met them. In the days before Steve received the shake-up of his life in the form of Nancy Wheeler and the Upside Down, he had a reputation for sleeping around. He knew back then he’d been a little hopeless, but surely he’d said more than a couple of words to a girl before he slept with them. 

It horrified Steve that he could meet his soulmate, in some respect, know them, and yet had never talked to them. Could he really be that much of a jerk?

He’d never thought Nancy was his soulmate. He knew their words didn’t match up. That didn’t mean he loved her any less. Statistically, the odds of meeting your soulmate were somewhere between getting crushed by a vending machine and winning the lottery. Steve’s parents weren’t soulmates and boy did that show, but a guy could dream. Call him a hopeless romantic, but Steve was holding out hope for them. 

He’d almost thought his soulmate was Robin. It fit, right? They went to the same school, but they’d never really talked. He’d been so busy with his first day at a real job, he’d missed Robin’s first words to him. It wasn’t until later he’d started to expect it might be her. That was, until the pair were huddled beside each other on the floor of a bathroom stall. Robin was a lesbian and her first words, although interesting, definitely proved they weren’t soulmates. 

When Steve was a kid, he’d spend hours daydreaming about what his soulmate would be like. She’d be outspoken. She’d be bold. She’d be able to make him laugh. When he’d gotten older, something changed. He didn’t know how to put it into words, at least not ones he was ready to say out loud. ‘She’ didn’t fit his soulmate quite right. So after high school, he started wondering what ‘they’ would be like. ‘They’ felt not quite right, but closer. 

Their handwriting was distinct. It was all sharp-edges and odd-angles. It looked like it was trying to replicate something Steve couldn’t quite place until he walked into the record store at Starcourt and caught a glimpse of an Iron Maiden album cover. That gave Steve his first real clue as to what his soulmate might be like. 

It would be another year before the same handwriting would stop him in his tracks. Dustin had marched into the Family Video store as they were shutting up shop, brandishing a notepad and talking about needing a ride to go play his fantasy game. Steve was always going to drive Dustin, but he’d been dragging his feet, to show the kid he wouldn’t always drop everything to take him places. A familiar sharp edged, odd angled handwriting stopped Steve cold. 

“What are those?” Steve asked, trying to fain disinterest as his heart pounded in his ears. 

“They’re notes from the last session. You know, so we can keep track of what’s happened so far in the campaign. Who’s doing what quests, how many hit points everyone’s got. Mike is currently—.” Steve couldn’t give a crap about Mike. 

“Who’s writing is it?” Steve tried not to sound as desperate as he felt. 

Robin must have known something was up because she moved to Steve’s side. With one glance at the notepad, she understood why Steve was acting so strangely. She’d seen his tattoo, she knew it was his soulmate’s handwriting. 

“Our D.M.’s” Dustin replied. He might as well have been speaking in freaking code. 

“Alright, I’ll drive you,” Steve gave in, hoping he could catch a glance of his soulmate. Maybe his tattoo was wrong, maybe he’d know his soulmate when he saw them. 

They pulled up outside of the high school. He saw a group of people loitering outside the auditorium. Dustin had brought a lot of loose sheets of paper, so it only made sense Steve helped him carry his notebooks in. Most of the people there were familiar faces, the kids he’d babysat with a few exceptions. 

“Well, if it isn’t our favourite bard. I’m glad you decided to grace us with your presence,” an oh-too-familiar voice crooned. A boy broke away from the crowd to meet Dustin. 

He was Steve’s age. They’d gone to school together. The dude used to do all these weird soap-box sessions on their lunch table. They had gym together, and history. Steve didn’t think the two had ever actually spoken.  

“I would’ve been here quicker if I hadn’t had to play twenty questions with Steve. Steve, you know Eddie, our D.M.? Weren’t you two in the same year?” 

Eddie was practically shooting daggers at Dustin’s side profile, shaking his head discreetly as though hoping Steve didn’t remember who he was. He supposed Eddie always had a reputation. 

“You might not remember me,” Eddie spoke before Steve could answer. 

Holy shit.

“Of course, I remember you,” Steve argued and watched as Eddie’s eyes swelled to the size of dinner plates. 

Both boys stood, slack-jawed and stiff-shouldered, peering at one another. Steve’s brain short-circuited, because holy shit, Eddie Munson was his soulmate. Holy shit he’d found them, him. 

Steve dropped Dustin’s notes and swarmed forward without thinking, throwing his arms around Eddie. Much to his surprise, instead of freaking out, like any normal person, Eddie was waiting to catch him, leaving both of them to tumble ass backwards onto the parking lot asphalt.

They held each other in a bone-crushing hug. Steve buried his face in Eddie’s neck, surprised at how naturally the action came. He’d never hugged a man like this, hell he’d hugged no one like this. He was clinging so desperately to the man that he’d never thought he’d really find. Eddie pulled back slightly, trying to get a better look at Steve’s face. The guy’s eyes were alight with wonder and mischief. 

“That was quite an entrance, Harrington. All for little old me?” 

“I’ve been looking for you forever,” Steve admitted. 

“Well, clearly you’ve been doing a shit job of it,” Eddie argued which earned a snort from Steve. His soulmate would be able to make him laugh. 

“You’re not disappointed, you know? That your soulmate is the town Freak?” 

Steve had given up on caring about labels, on caring about what other people thought. Since high school, he had changed. He was different.  He didn’t want to be just another, shallow, meathead jock. He wanted to be different. 

“No. Absolutely not. Why would I care?” 

Dustin shattered the moment, clearing his throat and proclaiming,

“Alright, anyone care to tell me what the hell just happened?” 

#steddie #steddie ficlet #fictlet #drabble #steddie drabble #obligatory soulmate au #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things au #stranger things 4 #steveddie #I love reading soulmate aus #but I've never written one #so first time for everything #metalhoops writes

[metalhoops]

Dating Steve came with a lot of unexpected twists. The first and most glaringly obvious was that Eddie never expected the two to date in the first place. He’d  relegated the idea of ‘dating Steve Harrington’ squarely in the realm of fantasy, along with evil wizards and hell dimensions. So what did Eddie know? It’d been a strange year.  

Steve was a morning person, much to Eddie’s dismay. The downside of sleeping beside a morning person, and being hypervigilant about their every move, was that it forced you to become a morning person. Eddie blamed the aforementioned evil wizard and hell dimension

Before Steve, Eddie would be lucky to roll out of bed before noon. Yet now he begrudgingly found himself up with the sun. At first, he’d tried to roll back into bed when Steve left for his morning jog, but he was finding it harder and harder to get back to sleep. He’d worry about Steve, sue the guy. The town was cracked in two and they were all waiting with bated breath for Vecna to return. So he’d sit on the front stoop of the trailer with a mug of coffee in his hand and his blanket around his shoulders, waiting to see Steve’s familiar figure materialise at the end of the trailer park’s gravel drive. 

Another unexpected twist about dating Steve was how much the guy genuinely cared about the stuff Eddie was into. He’d started sitting in on Hellfire and Eddie’s band rehearsals. Eddie would sit up late at night creating new NPCs for their campaign and Steve would watch curiously or surprise Eddie by sliding over and skimming over his notes. 

“Make the shopkeeper guy a goblin,” Steve remarked and Eddie would snort. 

“You only say that because you like it when I do the goblin voice.” 

“Yeah, because it’s funny and none of the kids are going to want to flirt with a goblin.” Steve was still horrified and emotionally scarred from the time he’d watched Mike Wheeler try to seduce the elven barkeeper during the last session. 

“Are you saying you wouldn’t flirt with a goblin, Harrington?” Eddie teased putting on the silly and grating tone, Steve had affectionately named Eddie’s ‘goblin voice’.  He leaned over into Steve’s space, placing an overdramatised and sloppy kiss on Steve’s cheek.

He snorted and shoved Eddie’s shoulder gently. 

“Don’t push your luck, Munson. I love you, but not that much.” 

And of course, Steve had been the first one to say ‘I love you,’ because Eddie had always been a coward. Of course, Steve said it at least once a day, and of course, Eddie still hadn’t gotten the courage to say it back, because he kept waiting for the day when he woke up and realised that his whole relationship with Steve had been an elaborate dream. 

Eddie didn’t know exactly what made him decide to start joining Steve on his morning jogs. Ask anyone and they would tell you Eddie Munson was not a jogger. Steve talked about his morning runs like they were a meditative experience, all cool breeze, still streets and dopamine. 

Eddie went for a jog and felt like his lungs were twin stars on the brink of collapse. To him, running was akin to the slow heat-death of the universe, but he did it because he was sick of sitting on the damn stoop waiting for Steve to come home because he loved him and he sure as shit didn’t know how to say it. 

The next surprise came early one morning in late October, when he and Steve climbed out of bed without needing an alarm and Eddie found the cool breeze on his cheeks and the familiar beat of Steve’s steps in time with his comforting. That morning, he realised he didn’t hate running, not when it was with Steve. The revelation shook something free in Eddie’s skull, something he’d been grappling with for months. 

When the two arrived home, skin sticky with cold sweat, Eddie made them coffee. They sat together in front of the trailer watching the sun turn the same blood red as the Upside Down sky. Eddie thought he’d be okay with starting every morning like that, so long as Steve was there. 

“You know, Stevie,” Eddie breathed, unable to look at Steve when he said what he needed to say. He was brave, but not that brave. 

“I think I love you too,” Eddie whispered.  

“You think?” Steve chuckled at his side. He turned to face Steve and saw the man hiding a wide grin behind his mug. Eddie rolled his eyes and nudged his shoulder against Steve’s.

“Alright, fine. You win. I know. I love you.” 

Eddie had to fight to get the words out, but the second he did, he felt like a weight was lifted from his shoulders because he knew it was true. It’d been the first time he said it to anyone. He’d never gotten that far with another relationship. He and Steve were in uncharted waters. 

Steve set down his cup, practically tackling Eddie to the dirt with the force of his hug, all hope for not making a big deal out of the confession blown out the window. Of course, Steve was a hopeless romantic. 

The only thing that stopped the two from making out on their front lawn was the fact that Hawkins was the antithesis of progressive. Well, that and a sleep-deprived Max who stomped out of her trailer to throw a balled-up pair of socks squarely at Steve’s head as she grumbled about the hour of the morning. 

#steddie #steddie ficlet #drabble #ficlet #steddie drabble #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #eddie x steve #steveddie #bi steve harrington #gay eddie munson #I've seen so many fics or drabbles #where Steve gets into Eddie's hobbies #I want to see Eddie getting into Steve's hobbies as well #Metalhoops writes

[metalhoops]

Steve didn’t know how to show people he cared about them. It wasn’t something he’d learnt growing up in a household with absentee parents and later, emotionally distant friends. So when he finally got to a place where he was ready to try and show others what they meant to him, he didn’t know where to start.

Steve had craved physical touch for as long as he could remember. Something as simple as tousling Dustin’s hair or letting Robin hug him was hard, despite how much he enjoyed it. So he started with something simpler. He made sure the people he loved had their needs met.

Whenever someone needed a place to spend the night, he’d offer up the Harrington household. He’d drive them wherever they wanted to go, no matter what the time of day. He also made sure they were taking care of themselves.

When Eddie somehow weaselled his way into the list of people he loved, he knew he was in way over his head. 

Eddie was lucky to eat three homemade meals a week, let alone a day which set Steve’s teeth on edge. He’d already gotten into the habit of stocking his pantry full of things the kids liked for when they came over and halving his meal-prepped lunches for himself and Robin to share on break.

Steve started simple. When he dropped Robin off to school, or Dustin off to Hellfire, he’d send them with an extra sandwich or a Tupperware container filled with baked goods or last night’s leftovers for Eddie. It felt less personal if it went through a third party. At first, Eddie had looked at Robin and Dustin like they’d grown a third head, but he always accepted. Eddie wasn’t used to saying thanks, Steve didn’t want him to. So when they were together, they didn’t talk about it.

The notes came later. They weren’t anything special. Steve would slip in a post-it note with the meal offering. They started out mundane, ‘have a good day’, ‘don’t let Dustin stay out too late this time’, ‘you want to smoke out back once the kids are gone?’ But time and Eddie’s inability to acknowledge them beyond a smile or nod made Steve grow a little bolder. 

One night, Steve picked the kids up from Hellfire. Eddie had waved at Steve from the back of Hawkins High. His arms half hugged around himself fighting off the cold in nothing but ripped jeans and a tee-shirt. The next morning, Steve sent Robin to school with one of his old leather jackets. It was the most ‘Eddie’ thing he owned. 

Eddie hesitated in taking it from Robin. Food was one thing. A tan leather jacket, admittedly not quite Eddie’s style, was another thing entirely. Robin levelled him with a look to let him know not accepting the gift wasn’t an option. He shrugged the jacket on finding a note in the pocket.  ‘I owe you a jacket’. Eddie spent the rest of the day grinning like an idiot. 

That grin turned into a full-blown smile the next Hellfire when Dustin showed up with a container of frozen spaghetti, yes actual spaghetti and not SpaghettiOs, with a new post-it note attached to the top. ‘You looked nice today’. It proclaimed. Dustin looked at the note with a screwed-up nose. 

“You two are disgusting,” He proclaimed before bugging Eddie about their campaign. 

He can’t keep ignoring Steve. He doesn’t mean to ignore Steve. He just doesn’t know what to say. He still wasn’t sure how he’d managed to become friends with Steve Harrington. He didn’t know what to do with Steve being nice to him. He wasn’t used to people looking out for him, sure there was Uncle Wayne, but they were family. Steve was something different. 

“Hey Dustin,” Eddie called as the kids were leaving. 

“Tell Steve he always looks nice.” 

Dustin looked at him like he’d just asked the kid to stick his hand in a mimic’s mouth. 

“No way I’m passing that on,” He shot back. 

Thankfully, Hellfire’s newest member Will the Wise, was there to save the day.

“I’ll pass it on,” Will confirmed. It was Mike’s turn to look disgusted. 

The ride back from Hellfire that night was tension filled in a way Steve couldn’t comprehend. The kids had loaded into his backseat with tight lips and pinched faces. For once, Will took Dustin’s spot in the front seat, more astoundingly Dustin didn’t complain. 

“What the hell is going on with you guys tonight?” Steve asked when no explanation presented itself.  

“Eddie said you always look nice,” Will remarked as Dustin fake gagged. 

Steve jerked his head so quickly in Will’s direction the car veered onto the rumble strip. 

“He did?” Steve asked smoothing his hair back off his face.

“Can you two flirt without a third-party involved and put us all out of our misery?” Dustin groaned, kicking Steve’s seat and setting his cheeks aflame as he once more veered dangerously close to the edge of the road while trying to get a better look at Henderson. 

“Wait Steve and Eddie are flirting, gross” Mike spoke, his nose wrinkled in repulsion. 

Steve watched Will stiffen in the front seat and that was enough to set all his walls of internalised homophobia crashing down because there was no way in hell someone was going to make one of his kids uncomfortable, even if it was another one of his kids. 

“There’s nothing wrong with liking another guy. It’s just the way some people are... The way I am.” Will shot Steve a thankful half smile while Mike choked on his own tongue. 

“I didn’t mean gross because you’re both guys. Eddie’s cool and you’re lame. It’s gross he likes you.” You weren’t meant to have favourite kids, but Steve could say Mike was his least favourite.

“So you do like Eddie,” Dustin shot triumphantly. 

Steve wouldn’t be hearing the end of it anytime soon. 

The last note Steve would give Eddie was hand delivered by Dustin, much to his chagrin. Asking Eddie to meet him at Benny’s Diner during Steve’s lunch break. To Steve’s surprise, Eddie showed. He plonked down in the diner booth across from Steve and levelled the man under one of his intense stares. 

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” Eddie questioned, giving Steve a conspiratorial smirk. Surely Eddie knew, right? If the others had worked it out, surely Eddie knew. 

“Couldn’t be bothered to cook last night,” Steve admitted and watched Eddie’s face fall. He imagined Robin, back when the two worked at Scoops Ahoy, deftly adding a tally to Steve’s ‘You Suck’, column. Right. Harrington. Get your shit together. 

“And because I thought it’d be a nice place for a date.” Eddies brows drew together as he examined the diner. 

“Yeah, guess it wouldn’t be a bad place for a date. You got one coming later?” Eddie questioned much to Steve’s dismay.

Steve’s head fell to the table with a thud. He wasn’t good with his words. It was so much easier flirting with Eddie in writing. That way he didn’t have to worry about being rejected. 

In one last act of desperation or stupidity, Steve pulled out a pen from his pocket and scribbled a quick message on a napkin, taking a deep breath before passing it over to Eddie. 

‘Would you like to go on a date with me?’ The note asked. 

Across the table, he heard a strangled sound before two solid hands were placed on his shoulders. 

“Are you kidding me, Stevie? Hell Yes.” 

#steddie #steddie ficlet #drabble #ficlet #stranger things #stranger things 4 #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #steveddie #this was meant to be short #but alas I lost control #Metalhoops writes

[metalhoops]

// Read Part 1 Here // Read Part 2 Here //

“Can you believe that bullshit, Stevie?” Eddie questioned, from his spot in Steve’s lap. 

The two were together on the Munsons’ beaten-up couch. Steve’s day had dragged on like bare feet in river mud. As far as he could gather, Eddie’s had been the same. The room was hot with the ghost of summer, despite it being mid-March. Eddie’s hair between Steve’s fingers was soft and fizzed. 

“Can I believe that Lucas refused to ditch the championship game for your fantasy club, that could be rescheduled? Yeah,” Steve paraphrased, feeling Eddie sit slightly as he craned his head to get a better look at Steve.

“You’re on his side, aren’t you?” Eddie mumbled, discontent clear in his voice. Steve didn’t like it. He hummed and leaned down to place a chased kiss on Eddie’s lips. 

“You’re not meant to be on his side,” Eddie grumbled, laying back down. 

It was rare that the two disagreed. The disagreement had to be big enough to get a rise out of Steve, but if the situation called for it, he’d put his foot down. 

“It’s a big deal for him,” Steve reasoned, watching Eddie’s jaw clench. 

He’d gotten to know the boy well enough over the past few months. He knew what would come next. If he didn’t act soon, he’d have to sit through a monologue on the sanctity of the game and Lucas’ betrayal at having chosen sports over his friends. Steve didn’t mind the rants. He liked that Eddie was passionate. He did, but Eddie was right. Steve was on Lucas’ side. 

“I know this is a big deal for you, too. Getting to the end of the game or whatever, but can’t you just do it another day? It’d mean the world to the kid,” Steve reasoned. 

He knew by the rounding of Eddie’s shoulders and the elongated groan that escaped his lips that he’d won. 

“Fine, I’ll postpone a week, but you owe me big time. Next date you’re paying.” 

Steve didn’t argue. Hell, he liked paying for Eddie. The guy normally wouldn’t have a bar of it. 

“Wipe that smug smile off your face, Harrington. I get to pick what we do. I’m going to drag you to the loudest concert this side of the Mississippi the first chance I get.” 

Steve nodded, twisting Eddie’s fraying curl between his fingertips.

“In the meantime, I was thinking of heading to the game,” Steve proposed. 

Eddie groaned. He knew Steve too well. He knew what was coming next. 

“You’re going to drag my ass to the basketball game, aren’t you?” 

Eddie sat, switching to the far side of the couch to show his displeasure at the idea. However, he threw his feet in Steve’s lap, so he knew they were okay. 

He thought they were okay. 

“Lucas will want you to be there.”

“You know we can’t actually go together without people talking,” Eddie noted as Steve drove his thumb into the heel of the boy’s foot absentmindedly. 

“I don’t care,” Steve stated. 

He meant it. He’d given up on trying to be Hawkins’ golden boy years before. He just wanted to be the type of person he could live with. 

“Maybe I do,” Eddie spoke, stopping Steve cold. 

Steve worried. He always goddamn worried. Yes, he was waiting for the day he lost someone he cared about to the hell dimension, but it was more than that. He also worried about mundane stuff, like Eddie waking up and deciding they were bullshit. He’d been so sure he and Nancy were in love up until the second she told him they weren’t. That was a blow he wasn’t sure he’d ever heal from. 

He must have gone too quiet, sat stock, still in the growing silence. Eddie sat up and tugged at the hem of Steve’s shirt until he lay down beside him. The two were crushed uncomfortably close, side by side. Eddie’s knee was tucked between Steve’s legs. Eddie touched Steve’s face. It was something only he could get away with. If it were anyone else, he would hate it. 

“Not what I meant,” Eddie spoke, implicitly knowing where Steve’s train of thought had headed. 

“I just meant, I care because I know if any dick head in town had enough brain cells to put two and two together, we’d be screwed,” Eddie began, taking a deep breath. Steve settled back, bracing himself for the monologue. 

“Your parents would kick you out. Then the town would try to run me out with pitchforks. I’m not saying we’ll never... you know. I’m just saying we’ve gotta be smart about it. When I’m done with high school and we save up enough money to have an escape plan for when things go to shit, then we can toss around the idea of going to stupid basketball games together.” Steve sighed but nodded, understanding Eddie’s point of view.

Sometimes Steve got sick of being cautious. He got sick of waiting for other people to change their minds about something that didn’t have anything to do with them. He’d had some good goddamn sense knocked into him. He wished someone would do the same for everyone else. 

“We can hang out after the game. I’ve got something to do first, but I’ll swing around your place after ten.” Eddie proposed. 

Steve didn’t ask what Eddie was doing. If Eddie wanted him to know, he would’ve told him, and despite Steve’s many hang-ups, he trusted Eddie as much as he could trust anyone. 

“Ten works,” Steve agreed. 

The afternoon faded. Steve left Eddie to go to the game. He watched with his gaggle of kids by his side, glancing down at Robin in the marching band when her high school crush took to the stage with a shit-eating grin. He wanted to be there with Eddie, but this was a good consolation. He was sure he’d have bruises on his side by morning from Dustin constantly elbowing him in the side every time Lucas got the ball.

He was so damn proud of Lucas for scoring the winning point. Though Steve would admit, he’d have been proud of the kid if they’d lost by a mile. He was learning what love was about, love without contingencies. Eddie, Robin and the kids were teaching him the lessons he’d never picked up from his parents. 

He got back to his place around nine, took a shower and switched on a mindless T.V. re-run to fill the silence while he waited for Eddie. He was two episodes deep when he felt the familiar sensation of dread begin to well in the pit of his stomach. 

Eddie was two hours late when Steve’s worry shifted to full-blown panic. He tried to tell himself everything was fine, that Eddie got caught up and he’d walk through the door any minute. He picked up his bat from beneath his bed and paced the halls like an animal in an enclosure. 

It was three in the morning when Steve resigned himself to the fact that Eddie wasn’t coming. He called the Munsons at the god-awful hour of the night, hoping beyond hope that Eddie would pick up. He’d be pissed off at Steve for waking him up, but then he’d let him know what was going on. 

He didn’t answer. 

Maybe Steve had read things wrong. Maybe he and Eddie had a fight. They were fighting. That’s why Eddie hadn’t shown up.

He lay in bed until the light of morning thawed his bones and set him free from his wide-eyed, paralytic state of unrest. Instead of heading to work, he drove to the trailer park, swerving the Beamer off the dirt track as the blue lights painted the horizon. There was a swarm of cop cars parked outside Eddie’s trailer. Steve’s body moved of its own accord, rushing through the swarm of cops to find Wayne Munson smoking at the picnic benches, a nearly imperceptible tremor to his fingers. 

Steve didn’t ask what happened. Not right away. His mind was full of worst-case scenarios, none of which could be true until they were spoken into existence. For now, everything was unknown. For now, there was a chance Eddie was safe. He let his legs buckle beneath him as he sat beside Wayne, wondering when he’d made a habit of having panic attacks with Munson men near picnic benches. 

“Was Eddie with you last night?” Wayne asked between drags of the cigarette. 

Steve shook his head. 

Eddie had told Wayne about them. Steve had sat across the breakfast table from the man half a dozen times, but they’d never really talked without Eddie in the room. 

“Was he meant to be?” With a defeated sigh, Steve nodded. 

“What happened?” He asked, at last, tired of drawing out the inevitable. 

“I came home from my shift and there was a body.” All the colour fell from Steve’s face. 

“Not Eddie’s. Some girl. Cops are sayin’ they think he killed her. I reckon we both know that ain’t true.” Steve didn’t know what to do with that information. Eddie was alive. 

He listened to Wayne describe the scene with a growing feeling of dread. He’d seen enough of the Upside Down to understand that an eyeless girl, broken and bent like a marionette puppet and a missing boy seemed like part of its M.O. He was late for work. 

He needed to let Robin and the kids know what was going on. He skirted past the police and drove to the video store. His body was working on autopilot. To his surprise, Dustin and Max were already there. 

He watched as a disgruntled Robin tried to shoo them from behind the register. Steve cleared his throat, hoping beyond hope that the kids didn’t notice the red rim of his eyes as he placed his hands on his hips. 

“What the hell are you two doing? Shouldn’t you be at school?” He tried to play it off like it was any other day, as though he was fine. Robin’s watchful eyes let him know she saw right through him. 

“We’re looking for places Eddie could hide.” Dustin breathed, stopping Steve in his tracks. He shut up and let them explain. 

“We were thinking he could be at Reefer Rick’s place,” Max supplied after Dustin finished his tangent. Steve remained uncharacteristically quiet. 

“Alright, well, quick. Get your shit, if we’re doing this.” Steve grumbled, sliding off his video store vest and leaving it on the counter. Eddie wasn’t dead. That was something.

“That’s great and all, Steve, but we still don’t know where the hell we’re going,” Dustin argued at Steve’s heels as the four rushed out into the parking lot. 

“I know where he lives,” Steve supplied, catching the disbelieving look shared between Max and Dustin. He hadn’t told the kids about him and Eddie. 

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to. It was complicated. Everything about him and Eddie felt complicated. He didn’t want them to be a secret, but it was a necessity to keep them both safe, to keep Eddie safe. He’d told Robin because he knew she was safe. She was an extension of himself. He couldn’t not tell Robin, but the rest of the party was still in the dark. 

“I didn’t think you did drugs, Steve,” Dustin spoke sceptically as they piled into the car. 

“I don’t do drugs... Put on your seatbelt, Henderson.” 

“Then why do you know where a notorious drug dealer lives?” Dustin pushed. 

“Seriously, kid. I’m not backing out until you’re buckled in,” Steve warned. Now was not the time to get a D.A.R.E. presentation. 

“Steve, should I be worried?” Dustin asked as Max spoke up,

“Of course he does drugs. He’s at Eddie’s place all the time.” 

Both Steve and Robin turned back to look at the girl with wide eyes. Of course, Steve should’ve realised Max saw his BMW parked outside the Munsons’ trailer. He hadn’t been thinking. 

“What? I wasn’t going to say anything because we’re all going through shit,” Max elaborated as Dustin shot her a look of utter betrayal. 

“I didn’t think you guys were... friendly. I didn’t think you liked him,” Dustin gaped, finally buckling up. 

Steve tried to drive carefully, keeping his eyes on the road and the car under the speed limit, only sometimes succeeding. 

“What makes you think I don’t like Eddie?” Steve asked, trying to keep his mind off the very real potential that Eddie had just been dragged into the world he’d never wanted him to be a part of. 

Eddie kept trying to push for answers about what happened to Steve. He kept promising he’d give them to him when the time was right, but he could never bring himself to do it. Sometimes the best thing was to remain ignorant. All the same, Steve couldn’t lie to him either, so they’d remained in limbo. 

“You always drop me off at Hellfire, but you never say ‘hi’ to the guy." 

“I wave at him,” Steve reasoned. 

“From the car, Steve. It’s antisocial.” 

It wasn’t long before the group pulled up outside of Rick’s. Steve knew where Eddie would hide if he were there. He led the group to the boathouse, searching the place for any sign of the boy. That led to Steve blindly poking around in the dark with an ore and an odd sense of hope. All of which was thrown out the window the second a body sprung up from the darkness to shove him against a wall. 

It happened too quickly for Steve to process. There was a weight holding him in place and a sharp pressure at his throat. It wasn’t until Dustin’s calls that Steve made out Eddie’s body in the dim light. 

“Woah, Eddie. It’s me. It’s Dustin,” the kid called from behind them. 

The rest of the world fell away as he met Eddie’s wide, panicked eyes. He was safe. Scared as hell, but safe. The broken bottle Eddie held at his throat dropped from his hand in an instant, as did the ore from Steve’s grasp. 

“It’s Steve, Eddie.” 

Recognition flashed across Eddie’s face and suddenly Steve was being crushed again, this time under the weight of Eddie’s arms. The boy clung onto Steve as a drowning man would cling to driftwood. He buried his face into the nape of Steve’s neck and inhaled deeply. Steve could feel Eddie’s heart pounding against his chest. He snaked a hand around to hold the back of Eddie’s neck, forcing the boy to look at him. 

“Hey. You’re okay. Just breathe with me for a second, alright?” Steve spoke, echoing Eddie’s words from the first night the two had gotten together. He watched as the rapid rise and fall of Eddie’s chest slowed. 

“That’s it,” Steve soothed. 

“Stevie,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. 

“M’sorry I didn’t... I couldn’t go to your place, Steve. I wanted to,” Eddie continued, his hand having moved to grasp the fabric of Steve’s shirt. 

“I didn’t... I didn’t know if it’d follow me. I don’t know what the hell happened, I... you won’t believe me,” He finished at last, resting his forehead against Steve’s. 

It was slick with sweat but Steve didn’t care. The others in the room had fallen away entirely. There was only Eddie. 

“I think I should probably talk to you about that thing we keep meaning to talk about,” Steve breathed, drawing circles in Eddie’s skin. 

“Why now?” The boy asked, disbelievingly, a hysterical laugh slipping from his lips.

“Because no matter how crazy what you’re going to tell me sounds, I believe you.” 

“Alright, anyone care to tell me what the hell is going on? I thought you two hated each other,” Dustin called, shattering the moment between them. 

They pulled apart, though Eddie still kept his hand laced in Steve’s shirt while his hand migrated to the middle of Eddie’s back. 

“Why would I hate my boyfriend?” Eddie breathed, clearly not thinking, hopped up on adrenaline. 

“You’re what?” Dustin spoke, gawking open-mouthed at the boys. 

Steve inhaled deeply, squeezed Eddie’s hip and levelled Dustin with his best, unimpressed glare, practically daring him to push on. 

“That makes more sense,” Max muttered to herself as Dustin’s eyes continued to flicker between the two. 

“Shut your mouth, Henderson. You’ll catch flies. We’ve got more pressing issues here,” Steve muttered, trying to work out how exactly he could explain everything to Eddie. 

“I thought you were secretly dating Robin, not Eddie. What the hell, man? Neither of you told me,” Dustin pushed forward while Robin snorted, her nose scrunching at the idea. 

“Really not the time, Henderson,” Eddie confirmed, his fingers worrying away at Steve’s shirt. 

“That’s not fair. You’re not meant to be on his side, dude,” Dustin remarked. 

“Can we all just focus for two seconds? Eddie, what happened last night at your trailer?” Steve questioned, somehow managing to wrangle the group back to the task at hand. 

Steve knew by Eddie’s deep breath and trembling fingers what he was about to say. The world Steve had tried to protect the boy from had come to find him anyway. Now all Steve would do was be there to hold his hand as they walked through whatever hell the Upside Down had to offer.

Steve would keep him safe. Steve would always keep Eddie safe, no matter what.  

#steddie drabble #steddie #multipost fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #wayne munson #bi steve harrington #back by popular demand #stranger things #stranger things 4 #kinda a fix it #season 4 retelling #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #ficlet #Metalhoops writes

[metalhoops]

Steve was going to die crouched behind a picnic table in an unfamiliar town. That’s how he saw it, anyway. 

He’d been looking for Robin. That’s where it all went wrong. She hadn’t shown up for work at the video store that Saturday morning. It wasn’t like her. The two had just started at their new job and it was a goddamn Saturday. Steve had been run off his feet all day. 

At the end of his shift, he couldn’t help but look for her. Since the incident with the Russians, both he and Robin had their days where they would disappear, but they’d always let the other know they were safe. 

Steve never used to be a worst-case-scenario kind of guy until everything with The Upside Down. All day he’d felt panic rising in his stomach. What if she’d been taken by demogorgons or kidnapped by secret government operatives?

He drove the BMW past all of Robin’s familiar haunts. She wasn’t at home or at Steve’s place. The school was closed, so she couldn’t be at band and she’d have asked him to drive her to the movies.

That’s when he started to check the places he didn’t want to find her. The Junkyard, Lover’s Lake, and the remains of the Hawkins lab.  She wasn’t there. It was then he recalled a conversation they’d had last Sunday. 

“All right, I’ve got some more evidence,” Robin had exclaimed days before, and Steve had known exactly what she was talking about. 

“Well don’t hold out on me, Rob,” Steve pushed, pulling out a notebook he should’ve been using to keep track of people’s late rental returns. 

Instead, it harboured two columns and a series of tallies, an ode to their Scoops Days Steve was secretly proud of thinking up. ‘Vicky likes boobies’, proclaimed one column while the other argued, ‘Vicky doesn’t like boobies’. He’d never said he was mature. Plus Steve got a kick out of watching Robin squirm. They’d been trying to work out if Vicky was a viable crush. Steve thought she was but so far the columns were an even split. 

“Last night I saw her car parked outside the fairgrounds in the next town over. Any other day of the week and I wouldn’t think it was weird, but Saturday night, it’s a spot, you know?” Steve didn’t know. 

“A spot?” He echoed. 

“Yeah, you know? Like how skull rock is ‘a spot’ but it’s only for certain kinds of people.” Steve’s brow pinched together and he nodded. 

He could imagine what Robin was implying. He’d added another tally to his favourite side and thought nothing more of it until he’d run out of places to look for Robin in Hawkins. It was a Saturday night. It was a long shot, but he’d take it.

Steve drove to the next town over and was surprised to see a smattering of cars at the fairground. There were a handful of boys in their twenties sitting on picnic benches around a boombox playing music Steve was vaguely familiar with. Then there were a couple of girls sipping beer and passing the bottle around. 

If you didn’t know, it’d seem like any other half-assed party but if you knew what to look for, you’d know you were in the right place. Steve didn’t know when he’d become the kind of person who knew what to look for. 

One of the guys had his hand tucked into the back pocket of another’s jeans. Then, of course, he saw his fair share of coloured hankies, carabineers and key rings. Sometimes, Steve actually listened when Robin talked to him about that kind of stuff. He figured it must get lonely, not having anyone to talk to about those things. He wanted to be a good friend even if he couldn’t relate to Robin. Steve liked girls. That was the beginning and end of it.  

He studied each of the partygoers' faces and felt his throat begin to constrict. Robin wasn’t there. Where the hell was she? This had been the last stone left unturned. Now what? 

Steve’s heartbeat was a kick drum, threatening to crack his ribs in two as it burst from his chest cavity. His vision began to tunnel and a ringing in his ears swelled to a crescendo as he crouched behind an abandoned picnic table.

What if something happened to her? How the hell was he meant to find her? 

Steve felt a hand on his shoulder. 

He looked up with a start, almost leaping out of his skin when he saw one of the boy’s faces inches from his. The space was dark, illuminated only by the moon and the intermittent flickering of car headlights.

“Hey. You’re okay. Just breathe with me for a second, alright?” The boy instructed.

His voice was vaguely familiar, but Steve couldn’t string together a coherent set of thoughts. His body was focused on not keeling over. He tried to copy the overdramatised rise and fall of the boy’s chest. 

“There you go,” the boy soothed as Steve’s breathing evened out. 

“Guessing, it’s your first time here. Don’t worry too much about it. The first time I went to a gay bar in Indy I had a panic attack in the bathroom.” Munson. The voice belonged to Eddie Munson, Steve’s brain supplied at last. 

They’d gone to high school together. Though Steve wasn’t sure if the guy had graduated. He vaguely recalled Eddie hating all jocks on principal and Steve had tried to give the boy a wide berth because of it. Turned out he was the type to hang out at gay bars. Okay. 

There was no way Eddie recognised Steve. He was being way too nice to him. Maybe Munson was a good guy. Steve hadn’t taken the time to find out back then. Steve hadn’t really been a good person. He was trying hard to be better.

“No one’s tried to push you into anything, right? Because that’s not what this place is about. I might not be able to kick anyone’s ass, but I know a guy who could,” Eddie commented, confirming Steve’s suspicions. He was a good guy. 

“No. I’m good... I’m looking for someone,” Steve breathed, hoping maybe Munson would’ve seen Robin. 

Then again, if Eddie hadn’t seen her, he’d be outing Robin, which Steve knew was a shitty thing to do. Eddie spoke before Steve had the chance to decide what he was going to say.

“You see him around?” Eddie asked, moving to sit beside Steve on the grass, scanning the crowd. 

Oh. Eddie assumed Steve was... That was fair. He was at ‘a spot’. He guessed he could work with that. 

“I think he stood me up,” Steve covered, looking for an excuse to get out of there. 

“His loss,” Eddie mused, placing a hand on Steve’s knee. Oh, no. Flirting. 

“I should get out of here,” Steve stuttered, jerking upwards.

“Right, shit. Sorry. Too strong,” Eddie spoke half to Steve, half to himself as he stood up and dusted grass from his jeans.  

“Don’t let me spook you. Seriously. You look like you need a night out. I can sit all the way over there and we can pretend this never happened,” Eddie proposed. 

Steve was dreading the ride back to Hawkins, knowing if he went home now, he wouldn’t be able to sleep. Steve surprised himself by shaking his head. 

“No, I don’t want you to... just... don’t go. This isn’t something I do. I could use the company.” Steve was surprised at the words as they left his mouth. In what world did Steve Harrington want to hang out with Eddie Munson?

“Alright, no funny business, I promise. I’ve got some beer in a cooler. We could keep things all PG-13,” Eddie proposed, leading Steve to where the aforementioned cooler was stashed on a free picnic bench. 

“I’ve got to drive back home, but I could stay for a bit,” Steve remarked, sitting down beside Eddie’s cooler on the tabletop. 

He tried to focus on the distant music and the sound of passing cars. His thoughts kept returning to Robin. He dug his thumbnail into the table, scratching at the splintering wood as he tried to stop his mind from reeling. 

“Is your place far from here?” Eddie questioned, sitting beside Steve and lounging back on his elbows, glancing up at the night sky. 

“That wasn’t a preposition, by the way,” Eddie clarified quickly. 

“I was just trying to make conversation. Christ, man. I’m shit at this.”

“Shit at what?” Steve questioned absentmindedly, glad to have a distraction. 

Eddie grabbed a strand of hair and coyly hid a smile behind it. 

“You know. Talking to pretty guys.’ 

It wasn’t like no one had called Steve ‘pretty’ before. They had. But they’d always done it as an insult. He’d heard the word, ‘pretty boy’, spat through gritted teeth a handful of times, but no one had ever made it sound like a good thing, like something Steve wanted to be. 

It was strange. Steve hadn’t been lying when he said this wasn’t something he usually did. He wasn’t gay. He didn’t hang out with men in a way that walked the tightrope between platonic and flirtatious, but he’d gone on a lot of dates with girls, some that’d been far worse than the way his night was panning out. Steve was surprised at just how comfortable and familiar the setting felt.  

“I’m from Hawkins,” Steve admitted, feeling Eddie’s keen eyes on his profile. 

“Small world. Me too.” Everyone knew everyone in Hawkin’s. It’d only be a matter of time before Eddie placed him. Then what? He couldn’t imagine Eddie would want to hang out with him for long after that. 

“I came here with a buddy but I’m pretty sure he’s screwed off by now, you mind giving me a lift? Think we could both use the company.” 

Steve was always driving the kids around, that’s what he was good at, and it’d be a distraction. Steve nodded before he could think any better of it. 

“I can do that. You say the word,” Steve muttered and followed Eddie’s eyes to the stars. 

“Soon, give me a few minutes to enjoy the view”. 

That was the one good thing about small towns in the dead of night. The stars could really shine, painting their way across the sky, all milk and moonbeams. For once, Steve wasn’t thinking of the things lurking in the shadows. 

He could hardly make out the features of Eddie’s face, but he couldn’t help but think, if this was like the dates he’d been on with girls, this was the point where he’d kiss them. It’d be romantic. At heart, Steve had always been a romantic.

A car pulled up close to the two boys, bathing them in yellowed light. Eddie’s face turned to look at Steve. His eyes swelled wide with recognition. He’d expected Eddie to be shocked, this was the last place Steve would expect to find himself on an ordinary day. What he didn’t anticipate was Eddie jerking back as though Steve had physically hit him, his body tumbling backwards off the bench and onto the grassy lot. 

“Holy Hell, Harrington,” Eddie choked out, as he tried to pull himself back to his feet, staggering. Right. Steve should’ve known this wasn’t going to end well. He should just leave now. 

“I thought your voice sounded familiar. Christ. Steve ‘the hair’ Harrington. Here? Holy shit.” 

Steve stood, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot, trying to eyeball the best path to the Beamer, suddenly wanting to be anywhere but there. 

“I’m going to go...” Steve began but was cut off by a wild flailing of limbs and Eddie’s hand encircling his wrist. 

“Sorry. Shit. Sorry. Steve, Stevie. Wait. You surprised me.” Eddie placated, his eyes swollen wide as he looked at his fingers around Steve’s limb. It was as though his body had grabbed Steve of its own volition. 

Steve couldn’t help but notice the muffled conversations from the surrounding tables had quietened. 

“I get it if you don’t want to take me home, but I won’t tell anyone... you know. Cross my heart, dude.” 

Steve hadn’t been worried about that until now. His heart rate sped up again. He wasn’t queer but if rumour got around. His dad would kill him. Steve wasn’t sure that the statement was hyperbolic. Eddie must have seen something in Steve’s face, because his grip on his wrist tightened. 

“Promise I won’t. Look, somehow I’ve managed to collect your little flock of ducklings into my D&D club at school. They think you’re a good dude. That’s good enough for me.” 

Steve trusted Eddie. He shouldn’t. He told himself he was dumb for doing so, but his instincts won out. 

“Well, come on then, if you still want a ride,” Steve grumbled, pulling Eddie along with him to the BMW. 

The two talked on the ride back to Hawkins, but all of it was inconsequential. It was just what Steve needed. Eddie rambled about the kids, something he and Steve had in common. It was the only thing Steve knew they had in common besides the fact Eddie thought they were gay, or at least that they both liked men. 

It should’ve been awkward talking to Eddie, knowing the guy would’ve slept with him if given the chance, but surprisingly it wasn’t. Maybe that’s how Robin had felt about him at the beginning of their friendship. No. Don’t think about Robin. She was safe. She had to be. Steve would know if she wasn’t. 

“What happened to you, Steve?” He heard Eddie ask out of the blue and realised his fingers had been gripping the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles had turned bone white. 

Steve didn’t know how to answer the question in a way that wouldn’t spur on deeper probing, so he said, “Nothing”. The reply seemed to tell Eddie everything he needed to know. 

“I guess I grew up,” Steve supplied lamely.

“I wasn’t talking about how you don’t hang out with the same dicks from school. You stopped doing that before you graduated. Don’t ask me how I know that. Don’t make me say it. You’ve always been pretty, is all I’ll say. This is different. You never used to look so... haunted.” 

What was Steve supposed to say to that? He didn’t say anything, just turned the radio up and wondered how Eddie Munson, of all people, saw right through him. 

When they pulled up out front of the Munson’s trailer, Eddie paused, looking Steve over. 

“Hey, Harrington? You still all on your lonesome in that big old mansion of yours?” Steve rolled his eyes but nodded.

“Well, would you look at that? Me too. I mean, minus the mansion. Want to not be alone, together?” 

“I’ve got work in the morning,” Steve deflected as he found himself switching off the car and following Eddie up to the front door. 

“Won’t bother me. I sleep like the dead.” 

Steve was a horrible sleeper, not that it would matter. He knew he wouldn’t be sleeping that night. Maybe in the morning if he couldn’t find Robin he should call Nancy. She knew everything about missing friends, about knowing something was wrong and yet feeling like you had no one to turn to. He wished he’d been that person for Nancy years before but he hadn’t and there was nothing he could do about that now. 

Steve found himself tucked into the corner of Eddie’s bed. The two boys had stripped off their jeans but kept their shirts on. He kept comparing the night to dates he’d had in the past. He kept thinking how easy it felt to do the same with a man. Steve liked women, he knew that, but he was beginning to entertain the idea he might be able to like men. Couple that crisis with his worries that Robin was somewhere alone and hurting and you had one messy knot of emotions Steve didn’t know how to unpick. 

“Night, Stevie,” Eddie muttered, as his hand made its way to rest on his inner thigh. His breath smelled of alcohol. 

“This okay?” He clarified. Yes, Eddie was a good guy and Steve wished he’d known that sooner. 

“Yeah,” Steve admitted because it was okay, much to his surprise.

When Eddie did eventually fall asleep, he rolled over, keeping one hand on Steve’s thigh and slinging the other over Steve’s chest, somehow ending face down in the crook of Steve’s neck. He smelled of beer and smoke. It was the longest night of Steve’s life. 

True to his word, Eddie remained sound asleep as Steve extracted himself from under him come morning. He paused to jot his number down on a notebook beside Eddie’s bed, surprising himself once again. He hadn’t gotten or wanted a second date with anyone in months. He wasn’t sure this was classified as a first date, but it had him wanting more of whatever it was. 

Steve parked outside Robin’s place, surprised to find her waiting for him in the driveway, unharmed and applying her makeup with the help of a compact mirror as though it were any other day. 

“You look like crap,” Robin noted as she slid into the passenger seat. 

Steve could cry. Steve would’ve cried if it hadn’t been for years worth of emotional repression. 

“You weren’t at work yesterday,” Steve said by way of explanation. 

“Yeah. I went to Indianapolis for my aunt’s birthday. I told you I was going last week.” 

Oh. Steve had forgotten. He nodded, then sniffed pathetically, pretty sure he was about to cry. Robin was fine. She’d never been in danger. She placed her hand over his and gave it a reassuring squeeze. 

“Dingus, were you worried about me?” She teased, trying to lighten the mood. He shook his head, a blatant lie. 

“So worried you didn’t go on one of your crappy Saturday night dates or do you have another story to tell me about how you stuck out with a smoking hot babe... again.” That brought Steve to his second crisis. 

“Kind of.” Robin raised a brow.

“Kind of? Steve Harrington, since when are you coy about the people you date? Dude, when it comes to me you have no boundaries.” She was right. 

“I think I went on a date with a guy,” Steve admitted, not meeting Robin’s eye as she let out an inhuman squeak. 

“I was gone for one goddamn day and that’s the day you decide to date a guy?” She gasped, smacking his arm. 

In retrospect, it was pretty funny. Steve’s urge to cry was suddenly stifled as his body rocked with laughter. 

“I think I owe you one, actually,” Steve admitted, knowing he wasn’t going to hear the end of it. 

Read Part 2 Here

#steddie #steddie Drabble #drabble #ficlet #steddie ficlet #first meeting #pre season 4 #au #steve harrington #eddie munson #platonic stobin #robin buckley #bi steve harrington #fluff and angst #steve x eddie #Metalhoops writes

[metalhoops]

Inspired by this post

Steve had watched the world end a hundred different ways. He’d lived the same day more times than he could count, watching the people he loved die or feeling himself die. There were things worse than death. There were memories he didn’t dredge up for fear of calling them into the waking world.

He'd held onto hope for the first twenty recurrent days, which had dwindled to a sense of steely determination until he’d lost count of the days. Then all that was left was the comfort of repetition. He was Sisyphus pushing the boulder up the hill, day in and day out. Steve kept trying and failing to save Eddie until it was all he knew.

Maybe he was Prometheus, who stole fire from the gods and spent his life paying for it, tied to a rock while birds picked at his liver, only for it to grow back with each morning. Prometheus whose name, by definition, means forethought; one’s ability to consider possible futures. Steve had spent a small lifetime considering futures. It wasn’t a comparison he would’ve made on his own. That was Eddie, who’d spent his childhood with his head in thick tomes of fantasy and mythology.

Eddie Munson came to him like cheap furniture, in crudely disassembled pieces that Steve had been working tirelessly to put together. Each new loop brought him another piece of Eddie. His favourite colour was blue. He only woke up early on weekends to watch cartoons. He liked too much cream in his coffee.

The Eddie that existed in a world where Steve stayed with him and Dustin during the swarm of bats had told Steve his biggest dream was to make enough money to buy Uncle Wayne a proper home. His biggest fear was that when he died, no one would remember him.

Days or months later, with Steve repeating the same damn day, he’d finally learnt why Eddie’s love for his uncle ran so deep. Wayne had taken him in before his dad went to jail when the man caught Eddie holding another boy’s hand. In that world, Steve had stayed with Eddie in the RV as the rest of the group searched War Zone.  

Eddie’s mother died when he was six. He’d told Steve that later, or earlier. Steve had and has lost his sense of past and present. Eddie loved his mother deeply, though was unsure if that love had been misplaced. He recalled two mothers, one who read him bedtime stories and threw herself around the kitchen each morning with her wild theatrics and another mother who was distant and whose temper could turn on a dime. Eddie wasn’t sure which of those mothers was his and which was the mother of memory. All good storytellers know the story shapes itself in the retelling. Eddie’s mother was Janus, god of duality.

Steve understood. He loved and hated his parents. These feelings weren’t mutually exclusive. Steve loved Eddie because he’d spent the last hundred-odd days getting to know him, but Steve hated Eddie because he kept dying. Until he didn’t.

The boys lay side by side in the red-blue soil of The Upside Down, their bleeding sides caked with mud and demonic bat viscera. In the end, Steve wasn’t sure what’d done it. It’d been so long since he’d lived Eddie’s original death that it’d been smeared by the haze of memory and conjecture. All he knew was that a sea of bats lay dead around them and that it was over. Finally, over.

Steve removed his hand from where it was pressed into his side and extended it to ensnare Eddie’s. He felt muscles tug and tear from the walls of his ribs with the effort. Blood flowed freely from the cavity, but Steve didn’t care. He wanted to hold Eddie’s hand. Holy shit, they’d done it.

Somewhere along the way, Steve had fallen in love. It’d taken him ten more iterations to reconcile with the fact he could not only like a man but love him.  That was months ago, in Steve’s time. It was old news. “Steve, you still with me?” Eddie asked, his voice horse.

He was hurt, though not as badly as Steve. All his wounds were superficial. He’d be okay. Steve had been so sick of watching Eddie die, he’d been willing to put his body on the line to make sure it didn’t happen again.

In this loop, he was still ‘Steve’, not ‘Stevie’. They hadn’t grown close enough yet. Eddie only called him ‘sweetheart’ in the iterations where they kissed. Steve wanted to kiss him, but there was the taste of iron in his mouth.

“I’m okay,” Steve insisted, squeezing Eddie’s hand. He felt a sharp pain shoot through his side as Eddie pressed his hand into Steve’s wound.

“Christ, there’s a lot of blood,” Eddie muttered to himself. 

He was bad with blood. He’d scraped his knee down to the bone when he was seven and ever since, the sight of gore made him queasy. Steve wasn’t meant to know that yet. In this iteration, he hadn’t told Eddie about the loop. He’d tried before, but it never helped.

Pain and blood loss drag Steve down into a familiar oblivion. He expected to wake at the beginning of the loop, emerging in The Upside Down from Lover’s Lake, but instead, he found himself in a hospital room with Eddie in a bed by his side. It was late, too late for visitors, but Eddie wasn’t sleeping. His eyes were trained on Steve, equal parts concerned and curious.

“You scared the shit out of me,” Eddie confessed, as Steve’s eyes met his. 

Steve wanted to cry or scream. He wanted to untangle himself from the knot of cords and tubes to crawl beside Eddie in bed as they had curled up together in the back of the RV dozens of times before. He needed to hold Eddie to know he was alive, to understand he wasn’t going anywhere. Steve blinked away tears, balling his hands into fists. He didn’t want to scare Eddie.

“I scared you?” Steve choked out a mixture between a laugh and a sob.

Eddie didn’t know what to do. He never knew what to do when people cried. Steve learned that in the iteration where they’d lost Dustin. He didn’t want to think about it.  

“You almost died, man,” Eddie explained.

He somehow understood Steve wanted him closer. Eddie got out of bed, clutching his I.V. drip as he flopped into the chair by Steve’s bedside. He wanted to hold Eddie’s hand again, but he was out of excuses. He could tell him the truth, but he didn’t know what good it would do.

Steve was still used to thinking of possible futures. He was Prometheus who, unlike Sisyphus, escaped his torment. Steve wondered what happened to Prometheus after he was rescued. Did he return to a normal life? Does anyone bother to ask? Prometheus’ story is always about punishment. Afterwards, he was a footnote in the story of Hercules, but once the heroes leave the story, what’s left?

Eddie would know the answer, but it wasn’t a conversation he’d had with this Eddie. That Eddie was dead. This Eddie was and wasn’t him. This Eddie was Janus, god of abstract duality, god of beginnings and ends, god of life and death.

“Sorry my lame-ass face is the first one you had to see. Robin and the kids were in here all day. Wheeler left flowers,” Eddie tacked on awkwardly.

This Eddie didn’t know Steve. They were strangers. Of course, things were awkward. He couldn’t know he was the one person Steve wanted to see more than anything.

“No, Ed’s—.” Slip of the tongue.

“Eddie. I’m really glad you’re here, man.”

They were back to square one, but Steve could work with that. He’d been working with that for months. This time, Eddie would remember. This time, they had the luxury of taking things slow.

“One thing’s been bugging me all day,” Steve began.

After hundreds of days of getting to know Eddie, Steve had learnt a few shortcuts, a few ways to jump-start his way into Eddie’s heart.

“Can you explain what the hell Mordor is?”

It was a tried-and-true method. By that point, Steve knew Eddie’s response off by heart, but he wanted to hear him say it. Eddie gave him the same perplexed look he always did when Steve asked. It was as though Eddie thought he knew too much like there was some secret he wasn’t letting him in on, but he didn’t challenge Steve on it. He never did.

“Harrington, have you heard of Lord of the Rings?” Yes.

“No.” A million times.

“Tell me about it.”

Read Part 2 Here

#steddie #steddie ficlet #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #drabble #ficlet #Metalhoops writes #I read the post yesterday #and I've been thinking about it ever since #the plot kind of ran away with itself #but I like how it turned out #I'm considering a part 2 #from Eddie's point of few in the weeks/ months that follow #depending on if people are interested #shoutout to #@theamazingbard #for the idea

[metalhoops]

O how he loves you, darling boy. Oh how, like always, he invents the monsters underneath the bed to get you to sleep next to him, chest to chest or chest to back, the covers drawn around you in an act of faith against the night. - Richard Siken

“There’s something outside my window.” 

Eddie stood in the doorway, shoulders slump and slack from lack of sleep. Steve knew this routine. They’d fallen into it unexpectedly. After Eddie got out of the hospital, he’d come to stay with Steve until they could clear his name. 

They’d hunkered down in his childhood home, the wooden walls of which Steve knew inspired wild imaginings. The shadows cast from the trees on the pool mixed with the silver moonlight and danced like the hair of a dead girl on the surface of the water. They were Steve’s demons. Eddie had brought his own to the Harrington’s house of horrors. 

Steve knew paranoia. They were old partners. Paranoia crept into your bed in the dead of night, apologised for waking you, and kept you guessing with its cold feet and fitful tossing. 

“Let me take a look,” Steve uttered, swinging his feet over the edge of the bed. They dangled inches from the floor but in the blackness, they might as well be hanging over the edge of a precipice. 

He strode barefoot into the hallway, feeling the chill of death in the early April air. In the daylight, the hallway was metres. In the dead of night, it was miles. Eddie trailed after him, acting as a wave in the wake of a boat. In the night, anything could look like the black water of Lover’s Lake. Eddie’s breath on the nape of his neck was all Steve needed to remind himself he wasn’t drowning. 

He surveyed Eddie’s room, switching on the lights, opening the windows, and pacing in strange circles as though mapping sigils in the floor. He checked the closet and behind the door, before he crawled under the bed and felt Eddie slide in beside him. The two were crushed together in the small space, staring at mattress slates. 

There was an intimacy in the confined darkness and a strange, childlike comfort in hiding away from some unknown yet likely imaginary force. Steve felt the rise and fall of Eddie’s shoulders, signalling the slowing of his breath. There was nothing in the darkness, not yet, not anymore. 

“Can you stay here tonight?” Eddie asked. 

It wasn’t the first time he or Steve had posed the question but usually, there was more beating around the bush. They’d both grown tired of formalities. Steve had known the second Eddie showed up at his door that they’d end the night in the same bed. He liked it, more than he cared to admit, more than he should. Like many things in his life, Steve tried not to overthink it. 

“Yeah, long as we’re sleeping on the bed, not under it.” 

“I don’t know, man. You seen the view? That dust bunny? A must-see. That dead spider—.”

“The what?” Steve cursed, shifting closer to Eddie. He felt something crawl over his exposed ankles and kicked out against the blackness. 

“Cool it, karate kid, that was a joke,” Eddie cackled as Steve continued to mutter profanities under his breath as he crawled from under the bed. 

Eddie followed Steve’s awkward little army crawl, tugging at the boy’s ankle and dragging him backwards so he could take the lead. 

“Breaker, breaker this is Eddie the Banished calling for Top Gun King, do you read me,” Eddie breathed into the palm of his hand. Reenacting some unseen scenario Steve couldn’t quite follow. 

For a moment the boy wondered what his life would’ve been like, in another world where he and Eddie had grown up together, instead of himself and Tommy. He wondered if there would’ve been more years of strange yet striking whimsey, that Tommy and by default Steve, had grown out of at a startlingly young age. 

Eddie feigned a strange and static crackle as he clambered into bed and crawled beneath the covers. Steve followed, sliding in beside Eddie. The boy nudged his side as though waiting for something. 

“Rodger?” Steve attempted lamely. 

He wished he knew how Eddie mustered up the sudden lightness. He wanted to be a part of the world the boy escaped to in the dead of night when all Steve was left with were monsters and memories. 

“I’m sorry. I’m not good at this,” He apologised seeing Eddie’s wild eyes trained on him. 

Whenever they were together, Steve couldn’t help but feel like Eddie was asking something of him without saying it. Steve wanted nothing more than to give it to him. If only he could work out what it was. 

“It’s not hard once you’ve done it a few times. You’ve just gotta learn the magic of ‘yes, and.’ Let your hair down a little bit, boy wonder.” 

“I hate to break it to you, but my hair is as down as it gets... Since, you know...” Steve gestured vaguely at himself. 

Eddie’s eyes lingered on the hollow of his collarbones and the hint of chest hair, snaking like vines beneath his low-cut shirt. Steve noticed. He was good at noticing things. In the same way he knew Vicki liked women, he knew Eddie liked men. He was startlingly good at noticing that kind of thing. 

“Don’t wear Farrah Fawcett hairspray to bed? Colour me surprised,” Eddie spoke reaching out as though to touch Steve’s hair, before letting his hand fall in the space between them, thinking better of it.

That was the thing between them. They could sleep together but they couldn’t touch each other in the way they wanted. That would be admitting to something Steve wasn’t ready to commit to. It was his own personal secret, not from Eddie but from himself. Eddie was just a bystander bearing witness to the civil war of Steve’s heart and his better judgment. 

“Say your goodbyes to Henderson because next time I see him he’s dead,” Steve whispered. 

Eddie shifted, settling down for sleep as they’d done other nights. They never talked for long. If they talked it would be an admission that the two of them sleeping together was as much for pleasure as it was for necessity. Steve lay beside Eddie feeling as though his body were a room he was outside of. 

He tried to push the surge of emotions down, as he had all other nights. He felt as though he were holding his head underwater.

The past and the present tangled like fingers through unkempt hair. Unrelated guilts intertwined inextricably. Steve felt like he was drowning, laying beside the body of a boy he wanted to cling to like a life vest, while his eyes lay locked on the black shadow beyond the half-shut curtains. The swimming pool, where a girl had been dragged deep into the blackness. Steve was back at Lover’s Lake. He was in love and he was drowning. 

“Steve, are you okay?” Eddie was on his side, looking at Steve’s profile. 

His heart had circumnavigated his chest and worked its way up into his mouth, making it hard to breathe, hijacking his ears with the erratic beat. 

He tried to use Eddie’s voice to centre himself, to detangle the threads of history from histrionics, so all that would remain was himself and a boy in a bed with hair like history repeating. Steve had hands that wanted to undo time.

He remembered years before when Nancy had been the one that’d made his heartbeat throb like an infected wound. He knew logically, the emotions were the same. He’d sunk into Nancy’s body as one wades into deep water. He wondered what it’d be like to do the same to Eddie. Moreover, what it’d be like to be the water. To be a geyser by the ocean both filling and full. 

He couldn’t breathe. 

“I think I’m dying,” Steve whispered, finding his voice fractured by the thrum of his heart. Eddie’s face shifted to a look of understanding. 

Eddie’s hand was on his cheek, turning Steve to face him. 

“Look at me. You’re not dying,’ Eddie’s voice was stern and self-assured. 

Steve wanted to believe him. He couldn’t. Eddie’s fingers drew circles in his flesh. 

“Can I show you something?” Eddie asked. 

Steve’s throat was clogged shut, still holding his haemorrhaging heart. He nodded. 

“You’ve got something behind your ear,” Eddie muttered, pulling his hand back from Steve’s face to reveal his guitar pick, held on a necklace string. A magic trick.

It shook something loose, deep inside him. He doubled over, buried his face in Eddie’s shoulder and laughed. He took gasping inhales of Eddie’s skin, breathing in cigarette ash and musky cologne.

“That was so lame,” Steve gasped when he found his voice. 

“You loved it,” Eddie argued. 

“I loved it and it was lame,” he confirmed shaking his head. 

A hush fell over the boys. Not the quiet of sleep, but the stillness of contemplation. 

“You want to tell me what that was all about?” Eddie spoke, leaving it for Steve to pick up or push away. 

What was he supposed to say? ‘I want to kiss you and it scares me shitless.’ 

“I thought I saw something,” he replied lamely. 

Eddie’s brows furrowed. They both knew nothing was out there but when you’d been through what they had, some days logic wasn’t enough. It was a lie almost big enough to cover the scope of the truth. 

Eddie shifted, tucking his knee between Steve’s legs, pulling them together so the two were chest to chest, breath mingling.

“We’re fine,” Eddie said with conviction as though speaking the words could somehow make them true. 

They were back to the same old routine.  

The two boys lay crushed close together, leaving space in the sheets for all the things unspoken between them, all the vampiric night horrors that’d burn up come daylight. 

What would remain of the feelings come morning, Steve didn’t know but with his eyelids heavy and Eddie’s hand feather-light on his hip he stopped struggling against the tide of weary want and worry. He closed his eyes, leaned into Eddie’s body and let the feelings crash over his head, a wilful sort of drowning. 

#steddie #steddie ficlet #st #st4 #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #bi steve harrington #metalhoops writes #steddie fic #I finally got enough time to do this #I know I promised #A Richard Siken based ficlet #a forever ago #I finally had spare time #I got real pretentious and poetic #so thanks for reading #I know Americans don't use metres #but metres to miles sounds better #than yards to miles #I'll muddy the canon for some good alliteration #Fluff and angst #steddie au #for once I decided #to let Steve have his damn bisexual crisis #because I always let him speed run it #I imagine him meeting up with Robin #and pulling a Nick in heartstopper #with the whole #'I'm having a proper full on gay crisis'

[metalhoops]

Steve and Eddie: Alternative ‘First’ meeting part 2.

Read Part 1 Here

Eddie Munson never expected Steve to be his friend. He kept waiting for the former king to realise how different their two worlds were. When that day came, he hoped Steve could look back on his time spent with the strange Metalhead with affection.

Several months had passed since the two had their first encounter in the woods outside the trailer park, and he hadn’t scared Steve away yet. Eddie found the boy following at his side every other day when he wasn’t at work. He was loyal as a golden retriever and strangely, almost as happy. When he and Steve run into each other for the first time since Steve’s graduation, one thing was clear: Steve wasn’t happy. 

Now, most days, he appeared more happy than not. Yet, he was still distant. There were things he was keeping close to his chest, but Eddie didn’t feel like he was close enough to push. 

Eddie kept waiting for the moment he’d chase Steve away. He talked the guy’s ear off about Hellfire, now that the school year was back in full swing. They’d both agreed to keep Steve’s flock of wayward children in the dark about their friendship, lest they think Steve was using Eddie to keep an eye on them, ever the babysitter. Steve listened attentively. 

He invited Steve around to watch obscure B-grade, horror schlockfests. There was no way he enjoyed it, but Steve stayed. He jumped at all the right times and laughed at all the wrong ones, just like Eddie. Steve was too good to be true. One day, something had to give. 

When they drove together, Eddie played the music too loud and performed air guitar solos at stoplights. He’d even gone so far as to serenade Steve with KISS songs as the guy helped him put together a dinner that wasn’t from a microwave container. 

He’d expected Steve to roll his eyes and call him a nerd, which admittedly he did. However, right after, he’d equipped himself with a wooden spoon and performed an equally cheesy rendition of a Bob Seger song. 

Hell, once his parents were out of town and they’d stayed the night at Steve’s he’d shown Eddie his best impression of Tom Cruise in Risky Business, complete with high socks, a poorly buttoned button-down, and too-short, shorts. Eddie was so gone for Steve Harrington, and it was horrible because he knew something was going to go wrong.

He was sick of waiting for it to happen. The two had been friends for months, and Eddie was sick of holding his breath, with each passing day knowing that the hurt would be all the greater as his attachment to Steve grew. 

Steve’s parents were out of town, which always made for a more relaxed Steve. He’d invited Eddie to stay the night at his place for the first time. Eddie realised what had to happen next as Steve invited him to crash with him in his bed. 

This was the thing that would finally scare Steve away. This was the thing that would get Steve to finally give up his reformed jock status and call him a freak. He couldn’t share a bed with Steve without him knowing, it wasn’t fair. 

“I kinda like taking the side next to the door. You mind taking the window side?” Steve asked so casually it made Eddie’s heart ache. 

He found it hard to swallow as he bit the bullet and told Steve the thing he’d been dancing around for months. 

“I’m gay, Steve.” He wished he’d been more eloquent, but he hadn’t. He spoke to the shitty plaid wallpaper, his words running together. 

When he finally looked, he found Steve sitting on the bed, his wide eyes looking equal parts alarmed and confused. He wasn’t cursing at Eddie or chasing the guy out of his house, so far, it was going better than he’d expected. 

“Uh... thanks for telling me, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to let you steal my side of the bed,” Steve finally replied. Eddie was goddamn floored. 

“You heard me, right?” Eddie repeated. There was no way in hell this wasn’t the thing that chased Steve away. 

“Roger Dodger. Loud and clear. You don’t like boobs,” Steve paraphrased as he wriggled under the covers. Eddie let out a sound between a snort and a sob because, holy shit, Steve didn’t care. He was also an absolute idiot, but that was expected.

“And you’re still cool with me sleeping with you?” Eddie asked. 

“I don’t like to sleep alone much, anymore,” Steve spoke with a vague shrug of his shoulders. There it was again, the uneasy sense he got that Steve wasn’t telling him something important. 

Eddie didn’t pry, because Steve hadn’t pushed when he’d just goddamn come out to him. Eddie slipped beneath the covers, closest to the window and lay beside Steve until the man fell asleep. Eddie couldn’t sleep, his head still reeling. 

After an hour, he felt Steve twitch at his side and mumble something incoherent. Eddie stayed still, thinking the moment would pass, quick and painless as a sun shower. Instead, Steve started to thrash. Eddie sat up in bed, flicked on the lights, and gazed down at the former king’s pinched brows. It was hard to believe this was the same boy who’d stalked the halls of Hawkins High, looking seemingly untouchable from Eddie’s ranks amongst the outcasts and common folk. 

“Stevie?” Eddie breathed, placing a hand on Steve’s shoulder in an attempt to wake him. 

The other man’s body stilled beneath his hand, and his face remained contorted. In his sleep, he crept closer to Eddie, curling his body around him. He had no idea what the hell to do. Steve hating to sleep alone made more sense. 

“It’s okay, Harrington. I got you. You’re okay,” Eddie mumbled, taking a risk and leaning down to card his hands through the man’s hair. 

Eddie sat there for another half-hour, muttering quiet nothings until he stilled and slept peacefully. 

When morning finally came and the two found themselves dancing around each other in the Harrington’s oversized kitchen, Eddie decided to broach the subject. Steve kept setting off alarm bells in his head, and he had no idea how to quiet them on his own. 

“Steve, I know I’m a shitty listener because I love to hear the sound of my own voice, but you know, if you ever need to talk about anything, I’m here, right?” 

Steve stepped back from the kitchen cabinet to get a better look at Eddie, his face the picture of conflict. He kept looking as though he were seconds from telling Eddie something before going dead quiet. Finally, he spoke.

“I don’t think I’m entirely straight.” 

That hadn’t been what he was fishing for, but holy shit. 

To make matters worse, Steve was sending him all the right goddamn cues. His eyes flickered to Eddie’s lips, then back to his face. He chewed on his bottom lip and ran his fingers through his carefully styled hair. Screw it. 

Eddie crossed the space between them and smash their lips together, pushing Steve’s back against the cabinet. It was a car crash kind of desperation. Limbs and lips everywhere. Steve ended up on the countertop, his legs wrapped around Eddie’s hips, hands in his hair. Eddie’s head was a chorus of holy shit, holy shit, holy shit. 

Eddie Munson never expected Steve to be his friend, but the one thing he’d never expected to ruin their friendship was a kiss. 

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#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie drabble #steddie ficlet #ficlet #my ficlet #stranger things #drabble #alternative 'first' meeting #multipost fic #long post #back by popular demand #this wasn't going to be a two parter but people wanted it #now I'm tempted to write a part three #hopefully I got everyone how asked to be tagged #I did my best #angst and fluff #Metalhoops writes

[metalhoops]

Steve starts driving Eddie places after he gets out of the hospital. It just makes sense. He’s so used to chauffeuring Robin and the kids around, that driving with Eddie is natural. Sure, unlike the others Eddie has a driver’s license, but they both know the road is a hell of a lot safer when Eddie isn’t behind the wheel. 

The thing is, Eddie’s always complaining about Steve’s music. Steve’s a simple guy. He turns on the radio and listens to whatever it spoon-feeds him (pop garbage, according to Eddie). Steve likes the music well enough. He’s never really loved music, it’s just background noise. Hell, when pushed Steve couldn’t think of what his Vecna song would be. So to avoid Eddie’s gripes he relents and lets Eddie leave a couple of his cassettes in the BMW. 

At first, Steve only plays the tapes when Eddie’s in the car but as time passes something changes. Steve finds himself driving home alone, dreading returning to the cold and quiet halls he knows await him in Loch Nora. The radio isn’t cutting it when it comes to drowning out the background chatter and dread in his head, so he switches over to one of Eddie’s tapes. It makes him feel less alone. He can imagine Eddie’s ringed fingers tapping their way across the passenger door furiously to the beat of the song, and he doesn’t feel so alone. 

That’s how some of the tapes manage to migrate from his car to the tape deck in his room. When he plays them, he feels like the house comes alive, that he isn’t alone. He doesn’t tell Eddie, of course. He doesn’t tell anyone. One day he slips up while driving Dustin to Hellfire. 

“I didn’t pick you as a metalhead, Steve,” Dustin notes with a shit-eating grin. 

He’s confused at first, until he hears the familiar tune of Metallica’s Welcome Home, through the BMW’s speakers and knows he’s messed up. Dustin definitely brings it up as soon as he gets to Hellfire, spouting nonsense about how Eddie’s corrupted Steve with ‘the devil’s music’- seriously, where does the kid even come up with that shit? 

The ride back from Hellfire is made all the more painful, with Eddie in the passenger seat and Dustin mouthing off from the backseat. Steve’s being berated from all angles about being a ‘closeted metalhead’. It’s been a long day and Steve is so goddamn tired so he can be forgiven for finally snapping. 

“I only listen to that shit because it reminds me of you,” Steve remarked shutting them both up in an instant. 

Dustin is the quickest to recover. He leans forward, nudging Steve’s shoulder. 

“Careful dude, say stuff like that and Robin’ll get jealous. It sounds like you’re in love with Eddie.” 

“Shut the hell up, Henderson,” Steve snaps, too quickly, too defensively. 

That’s when Dustin realises he’s screwed up. Royally screwed up, because Steve being gay never entered the ballpark of his imagination and it made sense didn’t it? Kind of. The way Steve kept insisting he and Robin were platonic. He hadn’t gone on many dates since Eddie’s return from hospital. 

He tried to dredge up all the things he’d been planning to say when Will inevitably came out because that, Dustin saw coming. 

“Actually it’s cool if you are, you know, gay. We wouldn���t think of you any differently if you were. Right, Eddie?” Dustin desperately looks to Eddie, who’s gone full deer-in-the-headlights, wide-eyed. 

“I might think of him a little differently,” Eddie breathes, sounding a million miles away. Dustin looks at him like he’s about ready to kill a man and Steve’s gone pale. 

The rest of the drive is spent in awkward silence. Steve dreads the moment he arrives at the Henderson household, knowing the second Dustin leaves the car, things are going to get infinitely worse. 

“If I’ve screwed things up, just let me know because I don’t know where to go from here,” Steve says once they’re alone. He hears Eddie exhale and braces himself for the worst as he waits for the man to reply. 

“How about we start with one of those trademark, pickup lines I’ve heard so much about,” Eddie prompts. Steve is confused. It might be a common occurrence, but that doesn’t make it any better. 

“What?” Steve asks, not able to come up with something more articulate. 

“Is what Dustin said true?” There was no point in lying, was there? 

“Yes. No. Mostly. I’m not gay-,” To Steve’s surprise, he watches Eddie’s shoulders fall. If he didn’t know better he’d think the guy was disappointed. 

“But I do like guys. Not all guys. Some guys. Sometimes.” Steve’s rambling and he knows it. 

“Then I meant what I said, to Dustin.” And there it is, the thing Steve’s dreading. 

“Right. Yeah, okay. So do you still want me to drop you off at your place or should I just pull over now?” 

Steve tries to hold back the hurt in his tone because he hasn’t admitted it out loud to anyone yet and it sure as hell smarts to be so blatantly rejected. He might actually have preferred getting punched in the face, at least there was something finite about it. 

“Steve,” Eddie breathes and his voice is soft, gentle even. Which makes no damn sense. He sounds like Robin did, on the floor of the cinema bathroom: vulnerable and exasperated, but not mad. 

“Pull over.” So Steve does. 

Eddie sets a hand on Steve’s shoulder, looks him dead in the eyes and licks his lips. 

“Steve, I’m gay and very much in love with you. Up until tonight, I thought you were very straight and totally out of my league, so if you’re telling me I’ve got a shot, that changes shit.” Oh. Steve finally caught up. 

Steve turns down the volume of the music, just to make sure he’d heard Eddie right. Then leaned into the man’s space. 

“Ahoy there, sailor.” 

Much to his dismay, Eddie laughs- scratch that, he snorts, doubling over, trying to muffle the noise with a hand. 

“That was the pickup line?” Eddie clarifies. 

“I’m rusty and I’ve never used it on a guy,” Steve retorts defensively. 

Before he knows it, Eddie’s back in his space, his breath ghosting hot over Steve’s cheek. 

“Hey, I didn’t say it didn’t work.” 

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #ficlet #steddie ficlet #drabble #stranger things #honestly idk where this came from #bi steve harrington #I spent ages editing a chapter for my fic #and thought my brain was done with writing #then I thought I could make a post #and this just appeared #Metalhoops writes

[metalhoops]

Read Part 1 Here

As small and unassuming as Eddie’s trailer was to others, it had always been his fortress. It was the last stronghold against the forces of evil, and the bastion of all things metal and macabre. It wasn’t much, but it was undoubtedly his. When you grew up with little, you clung to what you had. 

He’d come to Wayne’s at an age when the world had begun to haemorrhage magic, leaving a realm devoid of colour in its place. His uncle worked hard to stoke the flames of his creativity, buying or borrowing what he could to keep Eddie’s dreams of castles and kingdoms alive.  

He’d spent a small lifetime buried in tomes of fantasy and mythology. He’d whiled away afternoons flicking through books that let him choose the story, always managing to die before finding the right ending. As a child whose mother died young, it was nice to live in a world where death could be undone. 

Eddie managed to cling on to that last spark of childlike wonder into his early twenties. His childhood had been a landscape inhospitable for the companionships of knights and the trickery of wizards, yet he’d made it work. That kind of alchemy didn’t fade easily. 

Yet, with Chrissy’s death tainting his memories of the trailer, he understood his fortress, his kingdom, was nothing but rubble and blighted soil. He was Frodo, returning to The Shire after the destruction of the ring. Eddie’s Undying Lands came in the form of a small bungalow on the edge of town, paid for with government hush money. 

The place wasn’t much larger than the trailer, yet it felt vast in the late hours of the night when Wayne was working and Eddie was alone. They’d only been in the house a week. He still felt as though he were in hostile territory. He sat on his bedroom floor with the curtains half-drawn. 

He’d spent the past half hour drawing them open before pulling them shut. If they were shut, the place looked deserted. People would be less likely to try to peer in, but he wouldn’t be able to see if someone or something was coming. If he left the curtains open, people would be able to see in. Eddie told himself he was being paranoid until he watched a pair of headlights flicker in the distance down the isolated road. 

Eddie was quick to action, darting into the entrance as a knock sounded on the front door. He grabbed a box cutter from the pile of unpacked boxes and peeked through the keyhole. You could never be too cautious, not when half the town thought you were a murderer. 

Standing in the doorway was Steve Harrington, the former king of their ever-changing kingdom, looking lost and worse for wear. His hair, a Harrington point of pride, as good to Steve as a crown to a king, was a sodden bird's nest perched atop his head. Though that wasn’t all. One of his arms hung naked at his side. Steve hadn’t managed to pull it through his polo, leaving half his skin exposed, the other half covered in poorly wrapped bandages. 

They’d both been hurt by the hoard of bats, but Steve's injuries eclipsed Eddie’s. Something about that fact sat wrong with him. It was as though he’d stumbled upon a wrong ending. He wanted to turn back and find a story where Steve was safe. Eddie dropped his makeshift weapon and swung open the door. 

“Steve? Christ man, you’ve seen better days,” Eddie spoke, ushering Steve inside, locking the door behind him. 

“I’ve had worse.” 

Steve, like Eddie, appeared changed from what’d happened to them. He hadn’t known how to explain it. Most of what he knew about Steve Harrington was mythology, a collection of stories which changed depending on the teller. Yet, all those close to him, far closer to him than Eddie, had agreed something about him had changed. This Steve was a broken bone set wrong. Something about him always appeared to ache. 

Buckley had hauled up in the Harrington manor with him after they were released from hospital, helping tend to his wounds and wash his perfect hair. She’d confided in Eddie when he had come to check up on Steve that he was forgetting things. 

Perhaps forgetting wasn’t the right word. Robin spoke five languages, yet she couldn’t find the term to describe what was going on with Steve. He seemed out of place, like a sour note in a once sweet melody. 

Maybe it was one concussion too many, Robin had justified, which was a collection of stories shrouded in contention. How many concussions had Steve had? Nancy swore Jonathan hadn’t hurt Steve badly during their fight. He’d been able to run away, after all. Jonathan admitted he probably had. 

The kids all agreed Steve was knocked out cold after his fight with Billy while Robin recounted what’d happened in Starcourt. She’d later confess Steve had other concussions before Jonathan, though wouldn’t elaborate on their origin. Some stories only hurt the teller. Eddie had learnt how to read negative space.  Occam’s razor told them it was the easiest explanation, but to Robin and Eddie, it didn’t feel like the right one. 

Steve talked about things that’d happened weeks ago as if they’d occurred to someone in another life. Then there was the way he looked and spoke to Eddie. Every time he’d show up at the Harrington’s front stoop, Steve would look at him as though he’d risen from the dead, shook off the grave dirt and stumbled back into his life.

He had the feeling Steve was always seconds away from telling him something important, but he too, didn’t seem to have the language to convey it. When they stood together in silence, as they did that night in Eddie’s new fortress, he felt as though he almost understood. 

“What brings you to my humble abode, Harrington?” Eddie asked, trying to keep his eyes from Steve’s exposed side. 

“Mostly pride,” Steve admitted with a humourless laugh, ushering to his side, inviting Eddie to look. He did. 

“I told Rob to go home for the night and uh...” Steve cringed as he tried to lift his hand up to pull it through his sleeve. Eddie stepped closer without meaning to. 

“Shit, hold still. Don’t rip your stitches again or Buckley’ll hand my ass to me on a silver platter,” Eddie grumbled. His hand twitched, wanting to touch. Steve took a step forward, inviting him to. Eddie hesitantly brushed his fingers over the gauze, examining the bandages. 

“When did you last change these?” 

“Two days ago,” Steve admitted, leaning against the wall, trying to keep his balance. Eddie cursed under his breath, grabbed Steve by the wrist, and guided him to the bathroom. 

“You don’t have to change ‘em. They’re pretty gross,” Steve protested. 

“Which is exactly why I have to change them,” Eddie argued as he help Steve slide onto the bathroom countertop beside the sink. 

“I’ll get Robin to do it tomorrow. She didn’t throw up after dissecting a frog in junior bio.” Eddie groaned and scrubbed his face with his hand. 

“Didn’t know that was public knowledge, great.”

“Not many people knew. I just... we were in biology together.” Eddie knew they weren’t. 

He knew every class he’d had with Steve Harrington, much to his chagrin. They’d had gym, history, and Spanish together. Like shiny plastic to a crow or jewels to a dragon, Steve always managed to capture Eddie’s attention. He’d like to blame it on the fact he found Steve attractive, but there were a handful of other hot jocks who made Eddie want to shove his hand in a blender. Steve had always been different to him, though he’d managed to keep his affections close to his chest. It’d never do him any good. 

Steve had a habit of rewriting their mythology. Eddie had noticed him doing it often as a way of explaining away little things he’d have no right knowing, by fabricating new pasts. That was a piece of Steve’s new persona, which was reserved only for Eddie. 

He wasn’t sure how to broach the topic. He liked Steve. Hell, the more the two got to know one another, the more Eddie thought he could love Steve, but their relationship felt like an empty hallway in a horror film. It was devoid of any real threat, but it felt as though something was lurking just out of view. 

Eddie blamed his feelings of love for the strange gravity between them. Occam’s razor. He wanted to kiss Steve. He didn’t know what Steve wanted. That caused tension. 

“Why did you come here? I mean, don’t get me wrong, Stevie. The door’s always open,” Eddie said as he peeled back the bandage. 

He felt Steve stiffen and moved one hand to rest on the boy’s thigh. Steve’s hand covered his, lacing their fingers together and surprising Eddie. He tried not to look too closely at the wound. He found their first-aid kit and got to work, squeezing Steve’s thigh each time he pulled the bandaged taught. 

“I miss you,” Steve said, once more sounding seconds from another confession Eddie knew wouldn’t come. 

“I haven’t gone anywhere, dude. I saw you yesterday.” 

Steve muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like, 

‘I used to see you every day.’ 

Another past that’d never happened. A reinvention. To make matters worse, Eddie wanted to believe in that past. He wanted Steve to tell him their story, the one that lived only inside his head. Eddie would follow it. He’d do anything to stop the boy from looking so lost. 

“Can I do something weird?” Steve asked, and all Eddie could do was nod. 

Steve hooked his arm around Eddie’s neck, pulled the boy into the space between his dangling legs, and buried his face in Eddie’s hair. Steve’s hands balled into tight fists in Eddie’s shirt fabric, holding him so close he felt his bones creak like wooden floorboards underfoot. 

“You don’t have to miss me, sweetheart. I’m right here,” Eddie assured, feeling the need to do something, say something to make everything better. Steve’s grip tightened.

“Do you ever feel like we’ve been here before?” Steve spoke, his voice muffled by Eddie’s skin. 

He knew the answer Steve wanted. He couldn’t in good conscience give it to him. 

“No,” Eddie confessed. 

“But I wish we had.” 

Steve pulled back so the two could get a better look at one another. Unable to help himself, Eddie leaned forward, trying to smooth down his hair. 

“When you were seven, you scraped your knee so badly you walked with a limp for half a year and ever since you’ve hated the sight of blood,” Steve spoke, not daring to look at Eddie. 

He felt his whole body go stiff. His hand in Steve’s hair froze. He was right, but Eddie couldn’t understand how he knew. He’d moved to Hawkins when he was twelve. His life before that was a mystery to the town. 

“How?” Eddie began, but Steve wasn’t finished. 

“You do that thing when you’re nervous. Yes, that thing you’re doing with your hair,” Steve observed. Eddie had taken a string of hair between his thumb and forefinger and half hidden behind it. 

“And when you’re flirting,” Steve amended. Eddie’s brows drew together. 

“Which you do with me, a lot. Took me forever to work out that’s what you were doing but give me enough time and a good enough thump to the head and I’ll realise it, eventually.” 

Steve knew Eddie liked him. Shit. 

“Took me even longer to realise I liked you too, but everything’s kind of screwed now, isn’t it?” Steve asked, his humourless, dry laugh coming back. 

“Because every time I’m with you, I miss you. And I know that makes no goddamn sense, but I do.” 

Eddie tried to unpick what Steve’s words meant, but he kept coming up short. Steve liked him. That much Eddie gathered. It was enough to send his stomach plummeting into his boots. 

“Tell me what you’ve gotta tell me, Steve. I’m a big boy. I can handle it. Get some of that damn weight off your shoulders,” Eddie mumbled, placing a hand on Steve’s shoulder and rubbing circles into the spot as though to prove a point. Instead, Steve looked at him with a crooked grin and uttered,

“Like Atlas, right?” He hadn’t picked Steve as a mythology geek. Eddie felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end, as though he were seconds away from putting it all together.

“We’ve had this conversation before, haven’t we?” 

“Not exactly, but almost.” 

“Then why the hell don’t I remember it?” Eddie questioned, his voice growing strained. 

“I don’t know. You never do. It doesn’t matter, it’s over.” 

“What’s over Steve?” 

“I’d ask you if you really want to know, but the answer is always yes,” He grumbled, nudging his face against Eddie’s hand. 

Steve took a deep breath and told Eddie everything. He spoke about Eddie’s death, about being stuck in the same day for hundreds of repetitions. He told stories of Eddie’s death while brushing over similar terrors. Eddie knew he was getting a sanitised version of the tale, but still, he understood why the boy was haunted. He couldn’t imagine what he’d do if he were in Steve’s place. 

Stories, where death could be undone with a simple flick of the page and another binary decision, were easy. In practice, with hundreds of little choices and thousands of ways things could go wrong, it seemed more akin to a nightmare. 

“When you said you missed me,” Eddie breathed after a moment.

“Which version of me do you miss?” Steve’s brows pinched together, looking as though he’d been asking himself the same question. 

“I don’t know. I think, shit. I think I miss a version of you that never existed. If that makes sense. I miss what I thought we could’ve been when everything was over. You’re alive. I’m alive. It was supposed to be easy after that.” 

Eddie gave the boy a sad smile and nodded. To Steve, trapped in a never-ending cycle, Eddie had been his kingdom. He’d been a land to defend and a safe haven to return to. Yet, he’d wanted himself to be the same wide-eyed hero who’d left the empire, not the jaded veteran who’d returned home from war. They could never be the uncomplicated love story Steve had told himself to get through the days, but that didn’t have to mean things were ruined. 

“Hey, Stevie? What’s your favourite movie?” Eddie spoke, causing Steve to really look at him for the first time since they’d started speaking of other timelines and death. 

“Star Wars... The one with the teddy bears. Why?” Eddie got a goofy grin on his face, wondering how the hell someone who’d had the reputation Steve once had could love something as nerdy as Star Wars. 

“You know a damn lot about me. Time we even the goddamn playing field.” Steve nodded and gnawed on his bottom lip. His eyes trailed down to Eddie’s lips. He didn’t have to know Steve well to know what he was getting at. 

“Can I kiss you?” He questioned, his hand already tangling in Eddie’s hair. 

His thumb ghosted over the space between his ear and jaw that always made his breath hitch. Steve knew how Eddie liked to be touched. That was a new revelation. 

“We’ve kissed before, haven’t we?” Eddie questioned, Steve’s breath hot against his face. 

“I haven’t kissed this version of you before,” Steve supplied with a smug grin. 

“No fucking fair. You have the hometown advantage,” Eddie reasoned, and Steve let out a shocked laugh, a real one this time. 

“You’ve never made a sports reference before.”

“So they’re surprises in me yet,” Eddie beamed, sick of the anticipation, he leaned forward and pressed their lips together. 

The kiss was long and desperate. Steve clung to him, kissing him breathlessly, making Eddie weak at the knees. They had to pause when Steve let out a sharp inhale as Eddie accidentally grabbed his still-healing side. He muttered a slew of apologies, peppering Steve’s neck and jaw with kisses. He hadn’t shaved in days and Eddie felt a good kind of ache from the scrape of stubble against his jaw. 

When they finally pulled apart, the two looked decidedly more dishevelled. Eddie caught his breath and whispered, 

“You know, I’ve got Return of the Jedi on tape in a box someplace. You could stay over and we could... I don’t know, re-get to know each other,” Eddie proposed. 

“I like the sound of that.” 

#steddie ficlet #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #time loop au #stranger things #fic #ficlet #multipost fic #drabble #a #again based on a post by #@theamazingbard #back by popular demand #metalhoops writes

[metalhoops]

Steddie Week Day 6:

True / Misunderstandings / You Looking At Me Looking At You by Ozzy Osbourne

Steve Harrington had a lot of personal downfalls. He’d come to accept most of them with age but there was one he couldn’t shake. He had a near-pathological urge to be liked. Maybe he wasn’t held enough as a baby. Maybe it was something to do with his parents or too much MTV. To hell if he knew. He just wanted people to like him. 

Steve wasn’t naive. He knew he rubbed some people the wrong way. In his life, he’d done a lot of things he’d regretted, things he could never take back. He’d been a real asshole back in high school, as everyone liked to remind him. 

There'd been a point in his life when he’d thought being popular was the same as being liked, but that time had long since passed. He knew better.  He was an acquired taste, and he’d done things he wouldn’t begrudge people for not forgiving. 

Steve had always known Eddie hated him. He didn’t blame Eddie for it, but he thought he deserved a second chance.

Back when the two had gone to high school together, Eddie had made the dislike obvious. Steve distinctly remembered a lunch where Eddie had paraded his way across the basketball table, kicked Steve’s lunch tray to the side and leaned over to tousle his hair before disappearing out of the cafeteria, retreating to the safety of the band room. Steve was left red-faced and messy-haired, gaping in his wake. 

“What the hell was that about?” Steve spat as he passed his lunch to Tommy, his appetite gone. 

“Who knows what’s going on in that freak's head,” Tommy grumbled as he picked at the remains of Steve’s food. He wished he knew. 

The one year Munson had been in marching band, he’d made a point to throw Steve off every chance he could. Basketball practice and band rehearsals coincided every Monday morning. Steve tried to make a layup in practice and Eddie had squealed his obnoxious trombone, sending him skidding across the wooden floor. He’d spent the year with perpetual bloody elbows and knees. 

He’d thought things would be different when he heard Dustin and the rest of the kids had been taken under Eddie’s wing. Steve had changed since high school. He’d gotten better. So when Steve went to pick the kids up, he’d expected a civil greeting from Eddie. Instead, what he got was a cold shoulder. 

Each time he picked up the kids, he’d get a glimpse of Eddie dashing in the opposite direction of the Beamer, hardly bothering to usher the kids off. Alright, so all wasn’t forgiven. Steve needed to learn how to live with it 

Then there was everything with The Upside Down. Eddie almost died and Steve couldn’t help but shoulder the blame for it. He and Dustin spent every day from dawn to dusk oscillating between Eddie and Max’s rooms until the two returned to the waking world. He thought he and Eddie had started to finally see eye to eye. It’d taken the world going down in flames to get them to talk, but once they started, Steve didn’t want to stop. That was until the guy pulled the rug out from under him.

“It’s okay for you to leave, Harrington. You know? You don’t have to stay with my sorry ass all day,” Eddie spoke, toying with his I.V. making Steve cringe. 

He opened his mouth as though to argue, but thought better of it. Maybe that was Eddie’s polite way of telling Steve he didn’t want him there, that he’d overstayed his welcome. 

He shoved his hands into the depths of his pockets and nodded, trying not to look like a dejected child that’d just been chewed up and spat out by an overworked parent. 

Steve managed to mutter his way through a goodbye and disappeared into the hospital hallway. He didn’t have anywhere else to be. He kept worrying something would go wrong the second he turned his back.

He pulled up a chair in the hallway outside Eddie’s room, just out of view, and sat, head in his hands, wondering why it hurt so damn much knowing that Eddie didn’t want him there. 

Steve must have fallen asleep, because he was jolted awake by a calloused hand on his shoulder. He leapt up, wide-eyed with clenched fists, seconds away from lashing out when his brain caught up with him. Wayne Munson’s hand hung in the space between them.

They’d seen more than enough of each other over the past few weeks. He, Wayne, and Dustin had spent hours sitting shoulder to shoulder in relative silence at Eddie’s bedside. Wayne had never once questioned Steve being there, which had always seemed strange. He knew at a glance he’d fit in more with Jason and the rest of the vigilantes out hunting Eddie, not the band of misfits trying to save him, but the first day Wayne had seen Steve huddled at Eddie’s bedside, he’d nodded a half-hearted greeting as though he’d belonged there. 

“Eddie alright?” Wayne asked, a tension in his voice. Steve peered up at the older man and nodded. 

“Yeah, he’s fine. Shit. Sorry. I should be going,” Steve fumbled, rising to stand only to realise his foot had fallen asleep. He tumbled to the linoleum with a string of curses. 

“Hold your horses, kiddo,” Wayne placated, holding Steve by his elbow and hoisting him up to his feet.

The commotion and the voices in the hall seemed to draw Eddie’s attention. 

“Wayne?” Eddie called, his voice drifting down the hall from the open door.

It gave Steve the perfect opportunity to shake the older man’s hold. He turned to run in the opposite direction.

“See you later, Mr Munson,” Steve called over his shoulder and headed out.

Eddie Munson didn’t have many secrets, not from the people he loved. So when he’d developed a crush on The King of Hawkins’ High, Steve Harrington, he’d needed some kind of outlet. He wasn’t going to tell the rest of the boys in Corroded Coffin, not because they didn’t know he was gay, but because he couldn’t stand how goddamn insufferable they’d be about it. 

Of all the people in Hawkins to fawn over, Eddie had somehow landed on a meathead jock. Hell, the king of the meathead jocks. It strictly went against the Munson doctrine. People like Eddie didn’t fall for people like Steve. Not if they wanted to keep their integrity, but that hadn’t stopped Eddie. He’d fallen hard and fast for his stupid hair and his idiotic, condescending grin. 

He’d needed somewhere to channel his feelings. That was where Wayne came in. He’d known Eddie liked guys from the start, considering all the colourful nom de guerres his father threw his way. He could guess it wasn’t much of a family secret. Wayne had been different though. He hadn’t made him feel lesser for it, if anything he’d welcomed it with open arms. 

“So, there’s this guy,” Eddie stated, apropos of nothing one weekend, from his spot reclined on the couch. 

From his spot at their small kitchen table, Wayne set down the morning paper and levelled Eddie with a knowing look. He grunted, letting Eddie know he should continue. 

“Jesus Christ Wayne... he’s something,” Eddie began throwing his arm over his face to hide the flush of his cheeks. 

“So, you and this boy, is it serious?” Wayne asked sceptically. Eddie snorted. He wished.  

“God no. He barely knows I exist. We don’t exactly run in the same circles. The guy’s a jock and straight as a board. He’s on the freaking basketball team, Wayne. There’s nothing about him that I should like,” Eddie acknowledged.

“Then why do you like him?” Wayne asked, taking a long sip of coffee. 

Eddie wished it were something simple. He wished he could say it was because Steve was attractive. That was part of it, sure, but if it was just looks Eddie wouldn’t feel so twisted up. 

“I just- I think he’s different. I don’t know how to explain it. His friends are honest to god assholes but I’ve seen him abandon girls at parties to drive those asshats home. He shares his food with them, and when he gives those bullshit hoorah chants before each game about spirt, teamwork and shit, the guy actually believes it.” 

“What was that about parties?”

“Did I say parties? I meant intimate gatherings where people definitely weren’t under the influence of anything,” Eddie rephrased, shooting his uncle a shit-eating grin. Wayne sighed, knowing how and when to pick his battles.  

“Have you tried talking to him?” Wayne proposed, sounding exasperated. 

“No. Christ no. I don’t know what the hell to say to him. Every time I’m around him it’s like my wisdom stats drop to zero. He probably thinks I’m a weirdo.” To be fair to Steve, it was a popular consensus amongst the kids at Hawkins High.

Wayne wrapped his knuckles on the table. It was a nervous habit that let Eddie know he was thinking. 

“Whatever you do, just be careful, kid. I know I don’t say it as much as I should but having you around... it means something, right? I don’t want to see you make your life any harder.” It was blunt and not at all comforting, but it was Wayne’s version of a pep talk. 

“Alright, good plan. I’ll push my emotions down, grit my teeth and bare it,” Eddie joked, sitting up to get a better look at Wayne, who rolled his eyes. 

“It’s the Munson way,” he spoke dryly. It was his version of a joke so Eddie laughed. 

Talking to Wayne did help. He spent the next few years of his life talking way too much to Wayne about Steve Harrington. He should’ve known one of these days it was going to turn around and bite him in the ass. 

When Wayne got the call Eddie was in hospital he was hit with a barrage of emotions: relief, panic, and worry. No one ever told Wayne just how goddamn hard it was to be a parent, let alone the parent of a kid who didn’t quite fit in. 

He’d been thrown for a loop when he found two boys at Eddie’s bedside. One looked vaguely familiar. He was one of the younger kids in Eddie’s club, but the other boy was a complete stranger. Wayne was about to throw the kid out on his ass when the fabric of a familiar denim jacket caught his attention. The boy had Eddie’s jacket clasped in his lap. He held it like it was something precious. It made Wayne pause. The young kid looked up, catching Wayne’s attention.

“Mr Munson? I’m Dustin. This is Steve. We were with Eddie during the accident.” The final puzzle piece slid into place. Steve Harrington. He’ll be damned. 

Once he knew Eddie was safe, he’d tried to pry more information from the boys to little avail but they made good company for the long days and nights that followed Eddie’s admission to the hospital. In that time, Wayne started to see the kind of person Steve Harrington was. He decided if his boy was going to be with anyone, Eddie could’ve picked a lot worse. 

Wayne didn’t push Eddie to tell him anything. He’d never been that kind of parent but at some point, he had to intervene to save his own goddamn peace of mind. 

“Who were you talking to?” Eddie asked as Wayne pulled up his familiar seat at Eddie's bedside. 

“Steve. He was waitin’ out in the hallway. Figured something happened between you two.” His nephew looked perplexed. 

“Nothing happened. I told him he could leave hours ago.” Right. Wayne was going to have to sort these two out, wasn’t he? 

“Did you tell him he could go, or did you ask him to leave?” Eddie blinked up at him, as though the thought hadn’t crossed his mind.

“Closer to the second. I didn’t want him to feel like he had to hang around,” He responded after a moment. 

“What if he wanted to stay?” 

“Why would he want to do that?” Wayne loved Eddie, but sometimes the kid was trying. 

“Because that’s the kind of thing people do when they care about you.” 

A look of recognition flashed across Eddie’s face. 

“Jesus Christ, Wayne, we aren’t a couple.” 

“Here I was thinking you’d finally taken some initiative,” Wayne grumbled. 

“I thought you told me to repress my emotions and ignore the shit out of him.” Eddie had a habit of twisting his words. Wayne tried not to begrudge him for it. He was still younger than Wayne ever remembered being. 

“That was before I knew the kid. He wouldn’t have sat on those shitty chairs for six hours every day for anybody. I don’t know what’s going on in his head, but I know you should talk to him.” 

Eddie let out an elongated groan, scrubbed his face, and muttered,

“Maybe you’re right.” 

Steve didn’t know what had brought him back to Eddie’s hospital room the following day, call it intuition or the inability to take a hint. He had the common decency to linger in the doorway.

“Hey,” Steve spoke, as he caught Eddie’s eye. No turning back now. 

Eddie propped himself up in bed and ushered Steve into the room.

“Hey,” He replied, clearing his throat. 

“Wayne told me you stuck around yesterday,” Eddie began. Steve sunk into the chair at Eddie’s bedside. He’d really hoped Wayne would keep that to himself.

“You could’ve stayed if you wanted to, Steve. I wanted you to stay,” Eddie confessed, throwing Steve for a loop. He spoke before he had the chance to think better of it. 

“I thought you kind of hated me. Figured you wanted some peace and quiet.” It was Eddie’s turn to look confused. 

He absentmindedly drummed his fingertips on the railing of the hospital cot, deliberating. 

“What the hell makes you think I don’t like you?”

Steve couldn’t help but snort, looking to the door, planning a quick exit in case Eddie threw him out again.

“Where do I start, dude? You went out of your way to make high school hard for me. Which I get. I know I wasn’t a good person, but you’ve been giving me the cold shoulder ever since. I thought maybe we were getting somewhere but... I guess I was being stupid. It’s kind of my thing.” 

Steve hadn’t meant to sound as self-deprecating as he had, but the words were out there now, hanging heavy in the space between them. It was Eddie’s turn to snort. Steve’s eyes snapped to his hands, suddenly feeling very small. He felt the solid weight of Eddie's palm pressed against his shoulder. 

“You’re not stupid. I don’t hate you, Steve. I really, really don’t hate you. You drive me fucking crazy, which is why I keep avoiding you. I don’t know how to be a normal goddamn person around you.”

“You’re not that normal around anyone,” Steve noted softly, unable to keep the comment to himself. To his surprise, Eddie laughed and squeezed his shoulder.

“I don’t know how to be myself around you.” 

Steve felt lighter, knowing Eddie didn’t hate him, but all the more confused. Eddie liked him, but he’d been trying to avoid him. 

“Why?” Steve pushed. Eddie drew back his hand. 

“Please don’t ask,” Eddie breathed, all of a sudden looking like he could puke. 

Steve remembered having seen the same petrified look once before, on Robin’s face, when the two had been high as hell in a public bathroom. He thought more about Robin, and how she complained about not being able to hang around Vicki. How she rambled. How she couldn’t act like herself. Oh. Okay.

That made sense. 

Steve was hit with a wave of relief, followed by a shock of panic, not because Eddie had a crush on him or that Eddie was a guy. No. Steve suddenly understood why Eddie hating him had gotten under his skin. Why it’d bothered him so much. 

Shit. Steve hadn’t expected to find that out about himself when he’d woken up that morning.   

“Steve? You’ve gotta warn a guy if you’re seeing clocks or something,” Eddie spoke, interrupting his thought process. 

“You have a crush on me,” Steve gaped. He’d never been one for tact. 

He watched all the colour drain from Eddie’s face. There was no way he’d expected Steve to pick up on it. It was Eddie’s turn to shift his eyes to his hands. 

“Sorry,” he breathed, after a moment. That didn’t sit right with Steve at all. 

He leaned forward and tentatively rested his hand on Eddie’s, surprising himself as much as he surprised the other boy.

“Don’t be sorry,” He spoke, squeezing Eddie’s hand. Eddie sat gaping at Steve for a moment.

“You seeing clocks?” Steve asked, shooting Eddie a shy smirk. That’s all it took to get the boy breathing again. 

“Jesus Christ,” Eddie huffed and rested his head on top of their intertwined hands. 

“You don’t hate me,” He whispered. 

“I really, really don’t hate you,” Steve confirmed with a soft smile, resting his head beside Eddie’s, shyly leaning closer, placing a chased kiss on the boy’s cheek. 

#steddie #steddieweek2023 #steddieweekprompts #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #steddie ficlet #ficlet #stranger things #st #wayne munson #as close to writing an enemies to lovers as I get #better late than never getting this one out. #Metalhoops writes