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humanityinahandbag · 10 months

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Steddie: Wayne the Matchmaker (Part 1?)

Wayne wasn't born yesterday.

He knows full well that his nephew, his boy, is far gone for the Harrington kid. Knows it in the way he sighs, the way he drapes himself over the couch. Knows it in the way lyrics pour out of Eddie's room while he tries to write songs (just last Tuesday he heard Eddie muttering goddammit what rhymes with chest hair from behind his bedroom door).

So it isn't much of a surprise to see Eddie swooning quietly by the front door as he shoves his feet into ratty sneakers, a red car waiting in the driveway. Government hush money had been enough for Wayne to take less shifts, to put some away for Eddie's future, and to buy a modest one floor ranch house on a tree lined street closer to his boy's new friends.

Including the one currently walking carefully around the newly planted posies towards the front door.

"You seein' that Harrington boy again?" he asks.

Eddie's face went pink, and he ducked down pretending to look through his backpack for something. "Yeah," he says behind a curtain of hair. "We're going to the movies."

"S'nice. What are you seein'?"

"Uh, the new David Bowie thing. Labyrinth."

Wayne ignores how Eddie phrases it, like he hadn't been bouncing off the walls to see that little David Bowie Thing when the posters first showed up outside Melvalds. "Doesn't much seem his taste. He choose it?"

"Yeah, he-" Eddie stops and looks up. "Don't."

"Don't what?"

"Don't do that," Eddie says, fixing his Uncle with a frosty stare. "I know what you're doing, and we're just- we're friends. He's- he likes his ex. You should see them, honestly. They're like, perfect together. Dream couple." As if Wayne didn't hear the sorrow behind his tone.

"Mmmhm," says Wayne. "You sure?"

Eddie didn't get a chance to rebuttal when the door was knocked. Wayne opens it before he could.

"Hi, sir." Always polite this one. Steve's wearing a polo shirt and light wash jeans. It all looks newly pressed. And if he breathes in- yup. That's definitely cologne. "Uh, I'm here for Eddie?"

"Yeah, he's here. You wanna come in-"

"He doesn't." Eddie pops out from behind the door, glaring over his shoulder at Wayne. "C'mon, Stevie! We'll miss the previews!"

"Bye, Mr. Munson!" Steve calls over his shoulder. He grabs Eddie by the back of the collar, tugging him backwards, laughing and racing him to the car.

And well. This just wouldn't do.

Wayne never pretended to know a whole lot about love. He'd had his flings back in the day, but life had given him more curveballs than he'd been able to catch at once.

Not that he was complaining. Eddie was one of the best things that had ever happened to him.

But dammit if he didn't want the kid falling down the same hole he had.

Eddie deserves love. And Wayne figures that a few gentle nudges wouldn't hurt.

It starts with simple suggestion.

The next time Steve is at the front door, Wayne makes sure to distract Eddie with a well timed, "fix your hair," that had him scrambling for the bathroom, leaving Wayne alone with the Harrington boy.

"Steve," he says.

"Mr. Munson! Nice to see you. Um, we're just going to the arcade-"

"He likes sticky hands."

Steve blinks. "Sorry?"

"If you're gonna win him anything, get him one'a those sticky hands. It'll be hell on me, but he loves'm."

Steve nods, like it was precious information, perking up when Eddie breaks out of the bathroom.

When they get back, Eddie is considerably pinker, slapping everything around the house with a stupid pink sticky hand on a string.

"Steve won it for me," he says, as if daring Wayne to take it away.

Wayne only cracks another beer.

(He tells himself over and over that this is for the pursuit of love, even when he wants to shove Eddie out a window the fourth time a very sticky hand thwacks him on the back of his bald head.)

"He likes sunflowers," Wayne says the next time he sees Steve, which just so happens to be a week before graduation. Steve had arrived with a cake. A cake he baked. From scratch. Eddie had run to get his camera to take a picture and that was when Wayne got his chance.

Steve looks up at Wayne owlishly. "Sorry?"

"Sunflowers," Wayne repeats. "If you get him flowers for graduation, that's what he likes."

Steve nods seriously, brow drawn in thought. "Cool," he says finally. "Sunflowers."

Eddie gets sunflowers for graduation. He presses one of the petals between the pages of The Hobbit.

"Still think he's just a friend?" Wayne asks from the doorway.

Eddie traces the petal and closes the book. "It's enough," he says.

Wayne gives his nephew a long look. "You're allowed to like him."

"I know."

"No. You're allowed to like him," Wayne says again. "Like him like you like him."

Eddie stares at the petal. "I know," he says. And then; "I love him."

"I know," says Wayne and bundles Eddie into a hug.

Wayne gets to a point where he could gnaw through the walls of their new home, which he won't do, because Claudia Henderson chose the wallpaper and chewing on furniture is mostly frowned upon. But by god does he want to.

Wherever Eddie is, Steve follows. He appears at their front door to take Eddie on hikes. When he heard Eddie never learned to swim, he takes him to the quarry and Eddie comes back damp and flushed and Wayne guesses it has something to do with the shirtless boy in the driveway.

And yet through it all, Eddie doesn't see.

He doesn't see the long looks or the careful touches. Doesn't grasp the meaning behind Steve appearing one night with a bag of groceries and a smile and an announcement of I'm cooking you dinner! before making the best damn lasagne Wayne's ever had.

Instead, Eddie fawns and sighs and does everything he can to make Steve happy. Dotes and compliments and builds him up until Steve is red and spluttering and beaming.

Eddie is a good boy. Wayne raised a good boy, who loves fiercely and wholly, but somehow didn't think he was worth the same trouble.

And. Well. That just wouldn't do.

Wayne wants time to come up with some kind of a plan, but fate was a sporadic fucking asshole and chose for him. Which is how Wayne finds himself answering the phone on a Thursday to hear Steve's voice on the other line.

"Mr. Munson?"

"Steve. Eddie ain't home. He's at band practice."

"Oh," Steve says. "Right, uh. Can you tell him that I called?"

Wayne thinks a moment. "I can," he says, slowly. "But first, I'd like to talk to you."

A long pause. He can practically hear Steve sweating on the other line. "Me?"

"You," says Wayne. "S'only that you've been here an awful lot lately. Eddie's taken a real shine to you. You know that?"

"He's one of my closest friends, Mr. Munson."

"Mmmhm. An' I'm glad for him. But I don't mean like that."

He hears Steve suck in a breath on the other end. "Oh."

"Not that it's any of my business, an' maybe these old eyes are seein' things, but I catch you lookin' from time to time. Then again, I'm just an' old man-"

"You're not that old," Steve says. "And. Your eyes work great. Probably better than mine."

Good first step. Buttering up the parents.

"So. Just so we're on the same page, Mr. Munson. Eddie told me that you know about him. That he likes. Um. Yunno."

"Men."

"Yeah," says Steve, relieved. "Yeah, men, right. And so I was thinking the other day that I'm a man!"

"So you are," says Wayne.

"And it came to my attention a few months ago that people can like both. Which is- which is crazy. But I guess it's not so crazy. I used to work in an ice cream store and people would order the weirdest combos. Like... strawberry and pistachio? And I'd say, you can't like both! But then Robin told me I could."

"Steve."

"Right. So anyway. I've been spending all this time with Eddie. But I wasn't really sure. I mean, he can like men. But that doesn't mean he'd like my type of man. That I am. Man-wise."

Wayne hums. "And if I told you he did like your type of man? Man wise?"

"I'd probably ask if he liked Italian or Chinese, sir."

Outside Wayne can hear Eddie's van rolling back down the street. "He likes lo mein. No onions."

"Okay," breathes Steve.

"And even if he looks like an angry alley cat, the boy likes romance. You hear me, son? Candles, flowers, showin' up at windows."

"I can do that," says Steve. "I'm great at romance."

Eddie's car rolls into the driveway and Wayne looks out the window, waving to Eddie as he cuts the engine and the music and steps out. His boy stops to carefully step over the flowers first, waving back.

His good boy, who pours love out until he's empty and never complains. He deserves to have it poured back.

"You're welcome anytime, Steve," says Wayne earnestly. "Anyone who makes my boy as happy as he is- you're welcome anytime."

Eddie walks in as Wayne hangs up. "Who was that?"

Wayne tugs him into a hug. "No one," he says. And then, "go shower. You smell like Gareth's garage."

"Like a goddamn rockstar, you mean?" Eddie ducks away from a swat and laughs, running down the hall.

Like a kid in love, Wayne thinks, and turns on the game.

With ao3 being down (pour one out, I'm donating my life savings once they're back up) I got feral enough to write a one shot on here. I can't update my other Wayne Matchmaker fic. So. Yunno. This will have to do for now.

Does this need a part 2? You tell me.

LONGER, EDITED VERSION NOW ON AO3!

(IF I POST A PART 2 IT WILL BE THERE :D)

#steddie #steddie fanfic #steddie oneshot #boys in love #eddie munson #steve henderson #uncle wayne #wayne munson #good uncle wayne #eddie munson the gremlin #pour one out for ao3 #we miss you #we'll never take you for granted again #my god i'm feral #sticky hands

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hitlikehammers · 1 month

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POV: when your boyfriend accidentally overhears you spilling all your (very misplaced) insecurities about him leaving you for the white-picket-fence love he ‘deserves’

aka: CONCLUSION ☄️ hold me oh so close (you’re the sanctuary) 2/2 (and still 100% for @pearynice on her birthday🎉)

✨previously: “I just gotta believe that loving, even for just a short time’s worth it, when it feels like this,” and Eddie does believe that. Deep down, even if it’s alongside doubting and hurting. Eddie believes it, else he’d have run ages ago. Loving Steve Harrington is worth it. “Ed,” Wayne starts his tone a little off, a little…probably tied up in the something Eddie doesn’t have a clue as to what he nudging at, still, but whatever it’s— Eddie thinks he about shoots his head up through the ceiling of the trailer—which would be a goddamn shame because again: new trailer, still a draft, doesn’t need a hole—when he hears the clatter of something heavy not more than ten paces behind him. Which places it still in the kitchen, where he is but only just. Eddie whirls, heart pounding, ready for the worst— And his eyes lock with Steve’s. Steve, who it appears has placed one of his mother’s fancy-ass pie plates covered in aluminum foil near the phone in the corner by the door. Which he’d have opened, y’know, with his key. Because they lock the doors now, still, just in case. But Steve has his own key, and— Oh. Oh, that might have been what Wayne was nudging toward.

“You,” Eddie barely breathes out, and if his heart was pounding for fear a second ago it’s…it’s doing a thing he’s pretty sure isn’t normal, maybe is wholly unprecedented in all of human history of some shit, and he, he—

“Unintentional,” Steve grins a little sheepish at the plate he’d set on the counter, clocking that’s how he’d given himself away, why Eddie was panting a little for the adrenaline rush and the also not just or even primarily about the adrenaline rush; “but like—“

But like then Wayne’s scraping his chair against the linoleum instead of his spoon against his mug, standing up and dropping both into the sink before he clasps Eddie’s shoulder, squeezes, then crosses over toward Steve, does the same and asks low don’t eat it all without me, yeah? and Steve laughs, matches the fondness Wayne aims at him as he lobs back like we’d start without you and Wayne hums his approval before grabbing his truck keys, muttering something about needing cigs—which Eddie’s knows damn well he doesn’t—and then he glances at Eddie with that look, and, and…

Oh, Jesus.

The door’s barely closed behind Wayne before Eddie turns in his chair, knows his knees aren’t gonna hold him just now if he stands, there’s this under-the-skin kinda trembling he can feel that might be his heartbeat or might be his bones quaking apart because, like, Wayne had been looking at him the whole time like that and—

“How long have you been standing there?” Eddie barely squeaks out, it’d be a weirdly humiliating sound either way but it’s not because Eddie can barely process anything over the raucous thunder of his own goddamn pulse because how long has Steve been standing there and, and—

How much did Steve hear?

“Long enough,” Steve finally answers after spending a little time playing with his lips between his teeth in a way that normally drives Eddie a little crazy, but right now he’s a little too nauseated for it to hit.

“Longer than I’d have liked, because the things I heard,” Steve’s voice cracks as he shakes his head, and he looks so crushed, so pained and Eddie feels both sensations wash over him and settle in deep and at ten times the intensity, the weight because Eddie’s caused it. Eddie’s own words fucking made this and he—

“But it was at least as long as I needed, so that I could hear ‘em,” and Steve’s crossing to him, now, crouching a little so grip Eddie at the forearms; “because I needed to hear them.”

Eddie turns, hides his face which makes him feel sick because this is Steve, there are no moments he doesn’t want to see him, to drink him in, to refresh the permanent etching of the whole of him on the insides of Eddie’s eyelids, the ephemeral tangle of Eddie soul so he’ll remember for always what this felt like, what love can be.

For when it’s gone.

“Eddie,” Steve reaches, gathers Eddie’s hands so strong, but sure and so gentle, like he wants to…preserve. So as to keep.

Eddie barely keeps down the seizing tremble to sob, but the cost of doing so cuddles in his stomach to the point where it settles even worse.

“Babe, I needed to hear it,” Steve’s hands tighten on him, thumb stroking back and forth against the pulse in Eddie's wrist; “but now I need you to hear this, okay? Really hear it, please,” he brings Eddie’s hands closer so one of his own can hold both of Eddie’s so he has one free to grasp Eddie’s chin and lift it up, catch his eyes:

“Can you do that for me?”

And that’s the silver bullet: there’s nothing Eddie wouldn’t do for this man.

So he nods. And if a tear he didn’t notice falls when he blinks, Steve’s hand darts immediately to wipe it clear.

“You still think I want a Nancy,” Steve breathes, a lament and a realization rolled into one, that clenches tight in Eddie’s chest.

“You still think it, don’t you, still have this idea of what that was and what that meant, when the real-life Nancy wasn’t even this idea you have of a Nancy and, and then fuck, then the reality of it, like when me and her were anything?” Steve huffs something…bitter out, not toward Eddie and that’s the thing, isn’t it: Steve and Eddie aren’t perfect, and they fight loud and hard sometimes but they’re never bitter, they don’t swipe dirty.

They love—

“God, we were stupid,” Steve shakes his head and oh, well, yeah, maybe Eddie was stupid to fall so far and so deep fucking knowing the lines and limits and flipping them all off nonetheless but—

Then he looks, and Steve’s regretful. Nostalgic in that way where you think of a thing from the past for the lessons you learned for it, the ones you’re grateful for.

And oh.

Oh, Steve didn’t mean them, he meant himself, and…and her.

“You still think that,” Steve bends his chin to press lips where his thumbs have been, and to hold, and to speak against the delicate skin: “after everything.”

It’s not an accusation. It’s not disappointment. Eddie feels both, though: from himself, toward himself.

“Steve,” Eddie doesn’t mean it to come out like a moan. He swears. He swears he doesn’t mean it.

And yet.

“Come here,” Steve’s springing to his height and drawing Eddie first against his middle, tight to the low-center of his chest where the pulse of him echoes like a bell to toll and the he sinks into the comfort in that sound runs through him like cool rain for just an instant before hands are lifting, guiding him to stand and he stumbles a little but he goes nowhere, because Steve won’t let him, won’t ever let him.

All that perfectly placed trust in this man, never proven wrong.

“Will you come here?” Steve murmurs, watches Eddie’s feet and glances up through his lashes to his eyes, down and back, down and back as he leads them to the couch; knows this space like his own, like his home and that shivers through Eddie’s body—it feels right. Like it could’ve been forever, in another world.

But in this world? Steve asks if Eddie will come with him.

“Always.”

Forever the answer. And so he does.

Steve pulls him close, so close, almost in his lap as he curls against Eddie and gathers his hands again, squeezes to conduct his attention—like it could ever stray.

“I need you to listen to me,” Steve breathes so close to Eddie’s ear, hit on his neck; “I need you to listen, and believe me when I say it.”

All Eddie has in him just that moment is to nod, but fuck, does he nod, nods until Steve kisses the side of his head and tucks him under his chin, where Eddie can feel his blood move along by accident.

But it doesn’t feel like an accident.

“I used to think I fucked up with Nancy,” Steve’s saying, and Eddie can hear it as a whisper as well as he can feel it rumble under Steve’s throat; “and I did, but it was like,” he swallows hard, and Eddie feels that too; “it felt like I was the only guilty one, like I had take to all the blame, that it meant,” and Steve’s breath catches, he tenses, his heart trips a little, speeds a little and Eddie can’t not kills at the swell of his Adams’s apple, then the bump of his pulse, to nuzzle the tip of his nose in between, and Steve’s hand threads in Eddie hair: holds him near.

So fucking near.

“That it meant I was the problem, that I was built wrong,” and Eddie sucks in a breath that hurts but not nearly as much as those words, the implication that Steve ever; “that I was like my parents,” and no, fucking no: Steve is ten times most people in the whole world but in comparison to his fucking parents? Jesus fuck, numbers don’t go high enough to compare how much he outstrips them—

“That my love was only ever gonna be bullshit.”

And Eddie can’t help it. He whimpers when he wants to be still, be quiet and let Steve say what he needs to, let him ease Eddie down gently and make the end of this feel softer than it should, than it will with time but with a kindness no one in the world would ever show Eddie Munson—he wants to respect Steve’s space to say his piece but bullshit—Eddie’s come to trust and care for Nancy Wheeler, wonder of wonders, but fuck if he isn’t tempted to slash her tires and shred her drafts right before her deadlines for at least…ever. For fucking ever, because that’s not even in the same reality of enough of a punishment for saying, for doing what she did to this man’s precious fucking heart and if anyone here is bullshit, she’s—

He doesn’t realize how heavy his breathing has gotten, or how tunneled his vision, until Steve reaches a palm out and cradles his neck: an anchor. He’s quiet, and breathes like a light in the dark to follow home until Eddie can see straighter.

He is such…such goodness that it’s hard to do anything but reorientate the whole of him just…just to Steve.

“And I wondered, for a little while, if I put Nancy on this pedestal?” Steve speaks so soft, pressed now against Eddie’s brow, forehead to forehead. “Like she was something better, above me, and could…balance me out. Make the wrongness better. Worthwhile.”

Impossible. Impossible because she couldn’t, she’s not sufficient. Impossible because there’s no wrongness in Steve Harrington. Impossible because Steve’s more often than not the most, if not the only, worthwhile anything Eddie sometimes knows at all.

“But the reality,” and Steve’s tone, it’s…it’s different now. More…sure, maybe; “the real truth,” and yes, yeah, more sure, it’s a certain thing: “is we were stupid kids who saw horrible things, and we were hurting,” and Steve’s head turns just enough to brush lips against Eddie’s temple before bowing back against Eddie’s forehead, both of them breathing the other’s breath now.

Unbearably intimate. It always is but…but like this—

“Sometimes you lash out when you’re hurting,” Steve says simply, leans trusting into Eddie as he does, so forgiving of things that scarred him so deep; “sometimes hurting back, whatever way you can, is the only thing you’ve got.”

Eddie almost can’t comprehend it; is almost infuriated by its dismissal. But there’s…finality that feels like comfort.

Eddie doesn’t understand why, though, or, or how.

“And she was never, above me,” there’s this almost-smile in Steve’s voice then; “her love wasn’t better than my love,” and that’s the true thing, the most true thing maybe, the thing Eddie knew all along without a single shred of doubt:

“And my love didn’t need to be evened out. It was fine. I was fine.”

Then the pièce de résistance:

“My love’s enough just as it is.”

And Eddie wants simultaneous contractions, so deep and so much he can feel them tearing apart something vital in his chest: because he wants to rail, wants to push back on it because that’s not true, that’s too small: Steve’s love is perfection. Steve’s love is the only evidence Eddie’s ever seen that there might be a benevolent god in the universe somewhere, to allow for the tingly giddy joy that floods him under the warm beat of Steve’s love and if Eddie gets that from this love, limited-time-only though it’s offer might be, then Jesus H. Christ, Steve’s love? Enough?

That’s a fucking insult of the kinds Eddie’ll go account a hill tall enough to die on in defense of that love’s—this man’s—impossible, ineffable worth.

“Especially now,” Steve’s easing Eddie’s grip on him finger by finger—he must have grasped hard, squeezed so so tight when Steve shortchanged anything about himself as only just enough but it s a soft loosening, and he’s not letting go in the slightest, and his lips are set soft with a curve at the corners like maybe he knows that underneath Eddie’s indignation, he’s fucking proud of Steve for getting this far, for making progress that big: the know it clear enough to say it like the foundation fact it is when it took so long to unwrite the lies of a lifetime: yes.

Fuck yes, Eddie is proud of the man he loves who is more than fucking enough, who deserves the whole world.

And Eddie’s not the whole fucking world; Steve deserve so much mo—

“Because now,” Steve’s speaking again, and Eddie promised to listen, to believe like either was ever in question, like the cells in Eddie’s body don’t reorient themselves specifically to be near Steve, to cluster closer to Steve to soak in all of Steve—

“Now, this time, it’s this, this totally sincere thing, it’s this wholly honest, this absolutely genuine, like, timed in the rhythm of your heartbeat kinda thing I’ve never felt before and,” Steve rambles a little but it’s so earnest, so heartfelt where Eddie, or Robin—often their ramblings are just tangled-up tangents but this, from Steve: this is intention atop intention, a mountain of certainties vying for dominance to get the first foot out his mouth and into the world to make itself known.

“My love was always enough, but,” Eddie doesn’t like the ‘but’ on instinct, must scrunch his face or fail to catch a little whine for it because Steve’s hand in his own—still there, still there—but Steve’s still-there hand knows immediately to strokes Eddie’s knuckles, to soothe and to ground because Steve does love him in his way for as long as he’s willing, as long as he wants and it’s perfection, so far exceeding enough.

“But this is different from that other love,” Steve’s speaking it low, like the sound waves at that pitch will sync with something elemental inside Eddie’s DNA, inside the cadence of his blood—like he’d want that for some reason, like he does want that, here and now:

“Because it’s so much bigger, and stronger, and real in this whole new way,” and Steve’s lifting Eddie’s hand to his lips, doesn’t have to look to know the way anymore, presses them dead center to the middle and oh, oh it’s everything, Eddie melts a little and his heart’s still pounding almost painfully but it’s singing a little, forever weak and willfully so for Steve, Steve’s touch, Steve’s love—whatever kind, for however long, this real and tangible thing Eddie can see and feel that’s more than he never dared to conceive of, to think he could hold and—

“I love you, Eds.”

And Eddie’s brain does him the courtesy of stopping before his heart does. Y’know: undercuts the capacity to panic where your blood stops pumping and it’s all just white noise inside the whole of you. Because your brain’s already offline anyway.

Helpful little trick of timing, really.

“I thought maybe it was too soon, and I was waiting to say it until you were ready, maybe,” Steve’s looking at him with this potent swirling mixture of apprehension and hope but all of it bundled up in that patent resolve of his, the thing that slays the monsters and corrals the children and reached that first time cup Eddie’s jaw and draw him all the way in; “maybe in case it ended up that you never were ready, but fuck,” and Steve’s breath huffs out of him like something pushes it, like something’s swelling up inside and squeezing on his organs, making the basic necessities of living a struggle and Eddie feels included to reach, to help and soothe but Steve might still look a little hesitant, but, but—

More than anything, the hope’s shining bright enough in the cracks to start winning out.

“Fuck,” Steve exhales with maybe the last of what’s left of his oxygen before he lifts his gaze and goddamn if those eyes are big enough, golden enough and swimming full enough to drown Eddie by default in something so much bigger than what he understand even the concept of love to be but it doesn’t make sense, it doesn’t make sense, Eddie isn’t the dream, he’s not what’s Steve waiting on, but Steve’s hands aren’t just on his anymore, Steve’s hands are tangling with his hands and drawing Eddie’s up under his chin and Eddie can feel him breathing, thinks maybe he can feel his pulse against the skin but it’s hard to tell when Eddie’s own is such a riotous thing, and—

“If I was ever waiting for love, the real thing, the thing right here,” and he squeezes Eddie’s hands tighter, almost nonsensical; “right here,” and he kisses the pads of Eddie’s fingers and holds there close, long and warm like there’s something magnetic there, something worth staying to savor before he leans, holds eddies hands in the bare space between them as his gaze meets Eddie’s and locks there: Eddie couldn’t look away if he tries and then Steve breathes—

“It’s you.”

And Eddie must have heard wrong, same as his lungs, which tighten up to stalling, to causing real goddamn pain behind his bounding heart now because that’s not right, that’s not right—

“Up and down, through and through, forever and,” and Steve’s breath catches, and his eyes fly to Eddie’s, wide not like he surprises himself but like he’s unsure of something, when Eddie’s unsure he’s not fucking dreaming, or maybe goddamn dead and this is his afterlife, his undeserved reward; “umm,” and Steve licks his lips, but never wavers from looking at Eddie like hes the center of the universe, and more than that: some universe Steve wants:

“Always,” he breathes; “forever and always.”

Then he cups both of Eddie’s cheeks and and frames his face, cradles him like he’s dear beyond reason, like every word he said is law and love and light:

“It’s you.”

Eddie cannot fucking breathe.

“So, yeah,” Steve huffs, breathless himself; “that’s, umm,” and he pulls back a little, enough to run a shaky hand through his hair for nerves, and Eddie’s wants to stop him, wants to catch him and bring that hand to his lips but he’s frozen, he’s shaken, he’s stunned because he’s been so sure, he’d been so sure there was an expiration date but Steve had never spoken of one before, then here he’s said always and forever, over and again and both words, every time, were truths where Eddie’s knows Steve’s tells for anything less—these were truths but Eddie’d been sure—

“Guess that’s me pulling my heart out, too,” and Steve gestures between them, chest to chest and Eddie shudders, feels the motion move in his blood somehow: facts. Truths. This man, right here, being brave—having heard Eddie’s words he thought were confessions aimed elsewhere and not shying from them, put handing them back, offering his heart now and how, fucking, fucking how—

“And you can do whatever with it,” Steve sounds sure of that too, almost resigned but mostly resolute; “but Eddie?”

And then he smiles. Soft. Warm. With so much love.

“That’s been true from the start.”

That—

You can do whatever with it.

Like…as if Eddie’s had that heart from—

“Because it took like a second to know it was yours,” Steve spells it out plain, like he knows Eddie will struggle to take it it; he grabs Eddie’s hand and flattens it to his chest, lets him feel the frantic flutter as he exhales fierce:

“That I was yours.”

And between the words, and the certitude; the passion and the pulsing heart under his palm—all of Eddie’s conviction that that this was slowly creeping toward and end, it just…it’s like he held it in that hand.

And the steadfast pump of Steve’s heart breaks it to dust, banished far to nothing.

Eddie’s breath comes back in an incredulous laugh that’s no without tears.

“Mine?” he breathes, hand still on Steve’s heart, eyes trained on Steve’s own, unblinking. Still so close to disbelief.

“Yours,” Steve nods, covers his hand again and presses in. “All of it. Long as you want it.”

“Always,” Eddie answers almost before the last word fades; “always,” and it’s in claiming forever on offer beyond all imagining that it starts to register, to bleed into him full as he chokes out: “I never could have,” then he shakes his head, stacks another hand to Steve’s chest, needs the grounding. The assurance.

And then—

“Mine?”

Steve’s voice is small, but he’s leaning to Eddie’s pulse at his jaw, just the brush of his lips and Eddie shivers, but he turns a hand to drag Steve’s own to his heart, too, because good fucking god—

“Oh fuck,” Eddie breathes, arranges Steve’s fingers to every points around the beating so it’s complete, and fucking proprietary:

“Only yours,” he vows, wholly and complete; “past the day I goddamn die, Stevie,” and he means it, he means it: “only ever been yours.”

And it’s true, and not only because Eddie didn’t really understand love before loving Steve taught him. It’s that, but then: somehow beyond the size of words—it’s also more.

And when Steve leans to kiss him full on the lips, nothing they haven’t spent these last months doing every goddamn day, more chaste even than they’ve been for ages: it doesn’t shift the plates of the planet, or the motions of the tides.

It shifts the way the solar system rotates, the way the universe expands.

Steve tastes like what it means to be alive.

And they stay that way, they lower onto the cushions of the sofa and hold so fucking close, kiss so fucking sure like promises and their celebrations, their renewals and their rebirthings all in one. They kiss until air becomes meaningless, until their lungs burn as much as their eyes, until kisses tears away is commonplace and then spent entire, the moment held close and ushered through as a softness, a commitment to come another unwavering, and then they’re getting the, their breathing is calm and their bodies are pressed like they were made to mould into one perfect shape. They smile stupid at one another, the relief eclipsed in pure fucking joy, now, as Steve nips around Eddie’s face, down how next, to his collarbones: playful. As Eddie twists the soft strands of Steve’s hair and caresses beneath where they fall when he lets go, they start again.

“What kinda pie did you bring?” Eddie asks idly after minutes, probably not hours—they’re still alone and yeah, Wayne knew what he was doing when he left but it’s his day off. And he does love Steve’s baking.

Gets to love Steve’s baking now forever, and Eddie’s not settled enough to resist burying the full width of his grin in Steve’s shoulder for it: another forever-privilege he’s still acclimating to the marvel of.

“Apple,” Steve answers, stretching his neck back so Eddie can fit more fully, more close. “Wayne just said pie, but, I know the deer got your tree,” which they definitely did, the cute little woodland-terrorists, Eddie bought them a salt lick and everything to try and sway their violence. No dice.

“We should look at what it takes for a fence, man,” Steve muses before he reaches, grabs Eddie’s hand to pull it to his lips for a kiss so he can keep Eddie’s face burrowed safe in his neck but still love on him this way all the same as he adds with a knowing grin in his tone, tangible where Eddie’s hand lingers on his lips:

“Plus I know apple’s your favorite.”

And Eddie, he can’t help it, it’s all so fucking much so he, he kinda has to—

He giggles. He giggles, and he tucks himself a little lower, straight to Steve’s chest so tight and he wraps his arms around this man he gets to love, and love with everything, with no end in the cards at all, not ever: he laughs as Steve wraps his arms around him in kind without hesitation, fits around him with no intention of sifting anytime soon, because, because…

An apple pie life. A picket fence love.

Eddie’s heart cartwheels in his chest and he pulls Steve closer, wills him to feel it too, to know what it holds.

All that it holds.

Steve’s arms find some magic way to hold him tighter in kind, like he wants his chest pressed into Eddie’s to share permanent real estate, to meld into one single beating-breathing symphony and…yeah.

Yeah: Steve fucking knows how far this goes, can’t see the end either.

And he somehow wants that, relishes it, smiles so fucking blinding when the lift their heads again and kisses even fucking deeper right up until they hear the gravel rumble and the engine cut and it’s time to slice the goddamn pie, and brew another pot of coffee to go with it, and, and…

And talk about how hard it might be—or how amazing, maybe, even—to put up a fucking fence around an apple tree for the long haul.

also on ao3 🖤

✨permanent tag list (comment to be added/removed): @pearynice @hbyrde36 @slashify @finntheehumaneater @wxrmland @dreamwatch @perseus-notjackson @estrellami-1 @bookworm0690 @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #hurt/comfort #fluff #established relationship #but the kind where eddie still thinks steve's still waiting on something better #except steve definitely overheard eddie talking that nonsense and is here to fix it now #good uncle wayne #established steddie #heavy leaning into the COMFORT part of the hurt/comfort tag here #they're gonna build a fucking fence okay?#apple pies forever #stranger things #gift fic #pearynice

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stevesbipanic · 2 years

Text

Headcanon that Steve's Dad and Uncle Wayne were in high school together and Mr Harrington was essentially an even more of an asshole season 1 Steve. So when Wayne hears Eddie complain about Steve in highschool he's not exactly suprised. But when he finally meets Steve, who incidentally showed up in the middle of the night, cut on his forehead and a fresh shiner, being held close by his nephew with silent tears, he thinks maybe he was wrong and Steve was just another target like he was.

#uncle wayne #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #good uncle wayne #steve harrington has bad parents #mr harrington #his dads an asshole #stranger things s4 #st4 #steddie #stranger things season 4 #stranger things headcanons

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scoops-aboy86 · 3 months

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In which Eddie panics a bit, Wayne is a voice of reason, and Steve is really going through it but finds some relief in Eddie bringing him lunch.

Part 1, part 1.5, part 2, part 3, part 4 of the love spell no go au

Eddie does not, in fact, see Robin or Steve the next day. He holes up in his room for three days until Wayne drags him out by his ear, sits him down, and pries an explanation out of him because “do you know how many times that Harrington boy has called, knocked, and slid notes under the door trying to track you down? I’m surprised he hasn’t climbed in your damn window by now.”

He breaks and tells Wayne about the love spell and getting to know Steve. He walks his uncle through the entire strangled route of his logic and the thoughts he’s been stuck in his head with ever since the other day.

And, okay, the whole prom scenario had been a completely theoretical product of his overactive and dramatic imagination, but something like that might have happened. Except if Eddie, instead of fucking up, had somehow cast it really, really strong…

“That’s why he keeps calling, because of the spell,” Eddie concludes. “It makes sense, doesn’t it?” He desperately wants to hear that no, actually, he’s lost his marbles, no one can brute force a spell into being smart and biding it’s time like that.

But Wayne sighs, somehow conveying both endless patience and weary amusement, and says, “Eddie, what have I always told you?”

“Uh… never tell anyone that magic is real?”

Wayne snorts. “That, sure, and that magic ain’t ever something outta nothing. Your daddy always thought he could make gold from thin air, never even tried spinning it outta straw, and look where it landed him.” Jail. Eddie winces. “The reason no one bothers with love spells much is they gotta have some potential to grab onto, so they fail more’n you’d think. Spell or not, Ed, there was always something there.”

By the end of the conversation, Wayne has more or less managed to hammer in the idea that maybe all the spell had done was keep them apart until they fit better. Eddie retreats to his room again, this time to brainstorm how to make up for the abrupt three day radio silence.

Steve has had… a rough few days. If it hadn’t been for Wayne Munson assuring him that no, his nephew hadn’t disappeared like Will Byers or the Holland girl, just “got a bug up his ass about something and is still holed up in his room working on it,” he would have completely spiraled. As it was, he’d had trouble sleeping even before smoking through the last of his stash, on edge all the time, swimming laps at night because that feels better than doing nothing.

So when he looks up at the jingle of the bell over the door and sees Eddie slink into Family Video, he’s torn between relief and upset. If Eddie is fine, and very obviously not eaten by monsters or kidnapped to an alternate dimension, then where the hell has he been? Why hadn’t he returned any of the messages Steve had left him? Is the return to jock tendencies that off-putting?

His eyes catch on the bag and cardboard carrier Eddie is carrying, laden with three paper cups from the nearest diner. The warm greasy smell hits him, and it’s been a long few days of wanting to stress eat but not letting himself. Steve’s mouth fills with saliva—just because he hasn’t had his lunch break yet.

“Where the hell have you been?” he asks flatly, since there’s no one else in the store right now.

Eddie ducks his head. “Ye-eah, I deserve that.” He holds up the bag and drinks, tentatively meeting Steve’s gaze from under his bangs. “Brought you a peace offering?”

Steve breaths out sharply and runs a hand through his hair. He’d probably…Yeah, he’d probably been overthinking everything. Wound too tight, like Robin said. Not everything is a sign that the world is ending; Eddie had probably just been busy and knows that Steve is kind of needy, and brought him lunch as an apology.

God, it smells like his usual order from before Starcourt. And Eddie is here now, perfectly fine except for the shadows under his eyes. What does Eddie have to be so worried about?

Get it together, Harrington.

“Okay,” Steve says, not bothering to wonder if he can make whatever Eddie’s brought him fit into his diet—cheat days are a thing for a reason, right? “I’ll let Keith know I’m taking my break.”

Tilting his head to one side, Eddie is now close enough to set his offerings on the checkout counter. “No Robin today?”

“I wish. It’s her dad’s birthday, so she got roped into family stuff.”

“Hm.” He flicks at one of the straws poked through the top of the lid. “Looks like I brought one too many milkshakes then. Which is the more egregious sin, letting it go to waste or sharing it with Keith?”

Steve wrinkles his nose. “Second one. I’ll go punch out, meet me around back?”

A few minutes later they’re sitting across from each other at the table behind the little strip mall that houses Family Video and the arcade. It’s technically for anyone who works there, not just the video store, but it’s hot as balls out so there’s no competition for the spot. The first mouthful of milkshake is a welcome explosion of cold and rich chocolatey goodness in Steve’s mouth, and he hums approvingly. Holy shit, he’d forgotten how much he liked ice cream.

“How’m I doing on the apology?” Eddie asks, starting to pull foil-wrapped burgers out of the greasy bag.

“Pretty good, if one of those has cheese or bacon on it.” Steve accepts the one held out for him and unwrapping it to find both, and a second patty. He takes a big bite and hums in satisfaction, chewing for a moment and pleasantly aware that Eddie is watching him. As soon as his mouth is empty enough to speak, he says, “... Alright, you’re forgiven. Just answer your damn phone next time, man, okay? Let me know you’re still alive?”

“Sorry,” Eddie says, looking guilty. “Yeah, sorry, I will.” He nudges a large fries across the table, followed by several packets of ketchup. Eddie hates ketchup on fries, because he’s some sort of heathen, but doesn’t so much as comment when Steve squirts all of the packets down one side of the container for himself. “Didn’t mean to make you worry about me, Stevie, I just… got in my head about something.”

Steve swallows a mixed bite of fries and burger, christ he’s hungry today. Must be the relief of knowing that Eddie is okay. “Anything I can help with?” he offers, because now that his ruffled feathers are soothed, he doesn’t like how tired his friend looks or the hint of melancholy that had flashed across his face at Steve’s requests. Eddie, who had looked at his bruises from Starcourt and visibly didn’t buy the government-concocted explanation for them but agreed not to ask, and thinks the source of his recent tension is from a few days of trauma rather than going on two years.

But also—Stevie? That’s new. Steve takes another big bite of his burger to hide how much the nickname makes him want to beam, that would be so weird given the current topic of conversation.

“Nah,” Eddie says. He mimes knocking his fist against one temple, other hand tapping the underneath of the table to make a wooden sound. “Got it worked out now. I’m good.”

“Well, good.” Despite himself, Steve grins around his next bite of burger. He swallows, snags Eddie’s milkshake (strawberry) and then Robin’s (vanilla), following with a sip from his own—a poor man’s Neapolitan. “Want to come over tonight and finish that movie?”

A surprised look crosses Eddie’s face at the offer, followed by something else that Steve can’t read, and then a small grin of his own. “Sure, if you don’t mind starting it over. I’ve kinda forgotten the beginning.”

Which is fine, because Robin had insisted on finishing it (“You know I don’t do well with cliffhangers, Steve. Do you want me to not be able to fall asleep tonight trying to guess what happens next? Do you?”) and Steve isn’t sure he remembers where they paused it last time anyway. He’s pleased as he finishes his burger, licking the grease from his fingers and grabbing a bunch of fries positively dripping with ketchup, hurriedly getting them in his mouth before any can drop on his work clothes. Feels even better when Eddie chuckles and reaches across the table to wipe a smear of the condiment that had dripped down the side of his chin, almost making it to his work vest. The contact is nice, makes his heart beat faster.

It doesn’t have to mean anything, but he wants it to.

Tag list (comment to be added): @hotluncheddie @8em-em-em8

Part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11

#love spell no go au #wg steddie #scoops words #steve harrington #eddie munson #good uncle wayne #feeder eddie munson #i don't even think he realizes what he's doing he just wants steve to have a nice lunch #the extra milkshake really was a coincidence but of course steve finishes it #and most of eddie's too lbr #goes back to work with a little more pep in his step that has nothing to do with the eating purely to fuel his body he's been doing lately #does he learn anything from this? no he does not #but he's got a lot on his mind

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hbyrde36 · 5 months

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Life is a Game (and True Love is a Trophy)

Chapter 11

Ch 1 Ch 2 Ch 3 Ch 4 Ch 5 Ch 6 Ch 7 Ch 8 Ch 9 Ch 10 ao3 link

*Eddie*

Eddie had never had a morning after.

How could he, when he’d never experienced a night before?

Until now, anyway.

And while they hadn’t gone all the way, so to speak, it was still the most sex Eddie had ever had, because it was the only sex he’d ever had. So he figured it counted.

It might have been his first, but he didn’t think anything would ever top this morning after. Whether last night was a one time thing or the start of something more, he’d always remember the day he woke up in Steve Harrington’s arms.

They must have shifted positions in the night. Eddie now found himself playing the little spoon with Steve’s strong arms wrapped around his waist. Though his body itched to move, to yawn, to stretch, he held himself still, basking in the heat of Steve's chest pressed up against his back, not ready to give up the moment quite yet.

With the press of a soft kiss to his bare shoulder Eddie discovered that Steve was awake too and that perhaps he hadn’t been doing as well a job pretending to be asleep as he thought. He smiled to himself as Steve’s lips continued to make trail upwards. He tilted his head back, exposing his neck in invitation which Steve gladly accepted.

“Good Morning.” Steve whispered in his ear.

Eddie turned in the other boy’s hold. Suddenly he couldn’t go another minute without seeing Steve's face. He looked ethereal in the soft morning light that filtered in through the thin curtains that covered Eddie's window. His hair was sleep tousled and his face still had the impression of sheet lines in it but Eddie was absolutely sure he’d never seen someone so beautiful in his life.

He settled back down on his pillow, happy now to be facing Steve. “Did you sleep okay?”

“Okay?” Steve said incredulously. He leaned in to capture Eddie’s lips once with his own, before moving on to pepper what felt like every square inch of his face with dozens of little tickling kisses. “I think that might have been the best night’s sleep I've ever had.”

Eddie giggled, high and unguarded before promptly hiding his face in the other boy's neck. Steve was being entirely too cute and his heart was full in a way he’d never felt before.

Steve’s arms tightened around him, pulling the front of their bodies dangerously close together. They were both growing hard, there was no hiding it since neither of them had bothered to get dressed again after making a mess of themselves last night. Eddie groaned, unable to stop from bucking his hips forward, pressing himself into Steve's thigh chasing a bit of friction. Steve moved against him as well, a soft moan falling from his own lips. Just then, a door slammed loudly somewhere else in the house reminding both boys that they were not alone in the trailer. And not only was it morning, but uncle Wayne and the girls were definitely awake and only a room away.

Eddie groaned again but for a very different reason this time. Steve chuckled and they reluctantly moved away from each other in unison.

Steve sat up on the edge of the bed, most of his lower half mercifully still concealed beneath the covers. “We should probably get dressed before anyone comes bursting in here huh?” He said, looking back at Eddie over his shoulder.

“Unfortunately.” Eddie agreed through a deep sigh. He waited until Steve was busy rooting through the bag they’d brought back from his old house before getting up to cross the room. He quickly pulled a clean pair of boxers on and then the first jeans he could find. It didn’t matter that they’d laid together naked all night, somehow the idea of walking around in the daylight exposed made him a little self conscious.

He felt better being at least mostly covered up, and went to the closet to pick out a shirt. He glanced at Steve and found that he was still rooting through the bag even though he was fully dressed now in his own jeans and a soft looking worn yellow sweater.

“We can always go back. If there’s something you wanted that I missed or anything.” Eddie remarked, trying to sound casual about it as he shoved an old black sabbath t-shirt over his head.

“No, it’s fine. It’s stupid.”

“It’s not stupid to want your own things, Steve. What were you looking for?”

Steve sighed, rubbing the back of his neck anxiously. “My letterman jacket.”

Eddie bit his lip and quickly turned back to the closet, as much to hide his face as to retrieve what he was hiding in there under a box of junk.

“See? I know it’s silly and I don't even...” Steve trailed off as Eddie stepped back from the closet and held the green and white jacket out to him.

He looked at the floor as he spoke, too embarrassed to meet Steve’s gaze. “I don’t even know why I took it, honestly. It was hanging there on the back of a chair in your room and I just, I don’t know. I couldn’t leave it there.”

Steve didn’t take the jacket, instead he tucked a finger under Eddie's chin, tilting his head up until their eyes met.

“Hey, I’m glad you took it.”

Eddie swallowed hard, nodding a little as Steve did finally take the jacket out of his hand. He instantly went searching in the pockets. It wasn’t until then that Eddie realized what he was looking for. Steve didn’t really care about the jacket, he just wanted what was in it.

“Oh.” Eddie breathed, reaching for his wallet on the nightstand .He quickly retrieved the polaroid that he’d been carrying around with him and handed it over. “Is that what you’re looking for?”

“Yeah.” Steve said, smiling broadly. “Thank you. It’s… it’s the only picture I have of us together. It means a lot to me” He looked at the image for a long moment then handed it right back. “Actually, could you hold onto it for a little longer? Keep it safe for me?”

Eddie nodded again, a little dumbfounded and at a loss for words as he tucked it back into his wallet.

Steve cleared his throat. “I, um, I’d like you to keep this too. If you want to.” He said, nervously offering the jacket back to him as well.

Eddie stilled, and couldn’t bring himself to look at the clothing item in question. His throat was suddenly dry, palms sweaty. It couldn’t mean…

“Are you asking me to go steady, Harrington?” Eddie joked, or tried to at least. He expected Steve to joke back or something but instead he looked Eddie right in the eyes, expression serious.

“Yes.”

“Oh.” Eddie said, voice barely audible at first. “Are you sure you want that? I mean… knowing what you do about me?”

“What? That you're brave, and sweet, and kind, and thoughtful, and… ”

“Steve.” Eddie grumbled.

Steve knew damn well what he meant. Eddie was a mystery to everyone, including himself. He didn’t know where he came from or who his parents were. He had powers that he didn't understand, he might even be dangerous. He was kind of a mess.

“I think I can overlook all that and see past it to your good qualities.”

Eddie couldn’t help but break out into a smile. “Such as?”

“Well, you’re pretty okay to look at.”

“Just okay?”

“Mhmm” Steve hummed, setting the jacket down on the bed before taking Eddie into his arms. They kissed, one, two, three times before Steve pulled back, suddenly looking nervous again.

“So, what do you think?”

Eddie marveled at how Steve could possibly think he would say anything other than a resounding yes. “I think you’ve made a big mistake here because you’re never getting rid of me now.”

“Sounds perfect.” Steve smiled and his whole face lit up with it like he’d just been given the greatest gift, as if he were the lucky one.

Eddie knew better.

He huffed a laugh and shook his head at himself. “First boyfriend and I manage to bag Steve Harrington. Maybe there is something to all those Satan worshiping rumors.”

“Eddie.”

“How else do you explain it?” Eddie teased.

Steve rolled his eyes, then paused, face screwed up in thought.

“Am I really the first person you’ve dated?”

Eddie shuffled his feet and fought to retain eye contact. “You're sorta my first… everything, Steve.” He knew he could have just not said anything and he probably would have gotten away with it, but he didn’t want to start their relationship with any sort of lies between them, even if it was a little embarrassing to admit.

He squirmed, watching as realization dawned on Steve’s face. “So yesterday, the kissing, and then last night… that was?”

“Yup.”

Steve slid his hands up and down Eddie’s arms eventually taking both of his hands and twining their fingers together. “Eds, why didn’t you say anything? I would have…”

The blush Eddie had been fighting off up till now rose up his face and neck. He rested his head on Steve's shoulder trying to hide it. “It's not really something you want to just blurt out in the moment. Besides, I wanted it. I wanted to take care of you.”

“Alright,” Steve murmured, kissing his hair. “But next time–”

He was interrupted by the not nearly distant enough sound of a cabinet slamming and cups and plates being set out in the kitchen.

“If we ever get another moment alone–” Steve tried to continue, but as if the universe was intent on reminding them that their time for now was up, there came a rough knock on the bedroom door.

“Breakfast, boys.” Wayne called out.

“I think these are my favorite waffles so far.” El said around a mouthful of Eggo, butter, and syrup.

“So far?” Wayne asked, amused.

“She’s a bit of an aficionado.” Steve answered, grinning. “All that effort making them from scratch and I could have been buying frozen?”

Eleven giggled, nodding enthusiastically before turning her attention back to Max. The girls seemed to have become best friends overnight. It warmed Eddie’s heart to see, Steve must have noticed it too if the fond smiles he was sending their way were any indication.

“So, what’s a guy gotta do to earn the homemade waffles, Harrington?” Eddie asked softly, lightly bumping his shoulder against the other boy’s.

Steve took his hand under the table and squeezed it. “I think we could work something out.” He said equally quiet.

Clearly the comment was meant for only his ears, and while the two girls were suitably distracted with each other (Max was explaining the basics of skateboarding to an enraptured Eleven), Wayne was peeking at them out of the corner of his eye.

Eddie wanted to kiss Steve right then and there at the table but he held back. Wayne might already be on to them and unless they cooled it Max and El wouldn’t be far behind. He squeezed back with the hand Steve was holding and reluctantly let it drop.

When everyone was finished Wayne gathered their plates and set about washing them, refusing Steve’s offer of help. Eddie didn’t know who the old man was trying to impress, knowing full well that if it was just the two of them they’d have let the sticky plates sit in that sink all day.

The phone rang, loud and shrill. Eddie jumped up automatically to answer it so his uncle wouldn't have to trail soapy water all over the place.

“Hello?”

“Hey, kid.”

It was Hopper, and he sounded absolutely exhausted. Memories of last night came barreling to the forefront of Eddie’s mind. In his happy haze he’d almost forgotten about the lab and the fire, but before he could say anything the chief was talking again.

“Listen, tell Wayne I'm sorry but I won't be able to make our fishing trip this weekend.”

What the fuck?

“What do you mean, what about the– “

Hopper cut him off, loudly interrupting before he could ask any questions. “Just tell your Uncle exactly what I said, okay? I gotta go.” He hung up without another word.

Eddie stared down at the receiver still sitting in his hand and had a terrible feeling he was missing something.

“That the school calling to tell me you didn’t show up again today?” Wayne asked from across the room.

“No, it was Hopper.” He replied. “Since when do you fish?”

“Ah, shit.” Wayne cursed, dropping the dish he was holding rather forcefully into the soapy water and quickly drying his hands. “Ed, what did he say exactly?”

Eddie repeated what Hopper had said word for word. Wayne visibly paled.

“Okay kids. You got 5 minutes. Pack what you can.”

“What?” Eddie squawked.

“Have you ever seen me go fishing? It's a code that me and Jim worked out a long time ago.” Wayne said.

Ok, well that made more sense Eddie supposed. “What does it mean?”

The older man sighed, raking a hand over his face. “In a nutshell it means we need to get the hell out of here as soon as possible… and we might not be coming back.”

“Fuck.”

It hit Eddie all over again, everything the man standing in front of him had done and continued to do to keep him safe. Wayne had known since day one that something like this might happen, and he’d been prepared to cut and run at a moment's notice with no questions asked and no concern for the fact that he’d be ruining his own future.

Steve tugged Eddie’s arm, spurring him into action. Right, no time to dwell on it now, he could be sappy later.

They rushed to his room.

“I got the girls covered, '' Wayne called to their backs. “Meet out front, quick as you can!”

Steve's bag was still packed and sitting open on the floor. He zipped it up and threw it over his shoulder then began to help Eddie with his own. He had an old army surplus bag stuffed under his bed. He pulled it out and they began to fill it with clothes until it seemed like enough.

Eddie scanned around the room wondering what was worth it to take. He wasn’t even remotely prepared for this scenario. He spotted Steve’s letterman jacket still sitting on the bed and added it to the bag, along with his battered old copy of The Hobbit. He snatched photos right off the walls, a few of him and Wayne, Claudia and Dustin, the boys.

Lastly, he looked up to where his sweetheart hung on the wall in front of the mirror. He hated to leave his beloved electric guitar behind, but it seemed silly to take it when he had no idea where they were going or exactly what kind of trouble they were running from.

Steve watched him, sad eyes full of sympathy as he rested a hand on Eddie’s back. “What about that one?” He suggested, tilting his head towards the old acoustic guitar that sat collecting dust in the corner of the room. “It’s light and you can play it without an amp.”

He had a point but Eddie still felt like it wasn’t important enough. Wayne was already shouting at them to hurry. He hesitated, and Steve made the decision for him, slinging the guitar over his own back with the shoulder strap and linking their free hands together.

Eddie took one last look around the room as they walked out, years of memories etched into the walls. He hoped that somehow Wayne was wrong and they would be able to come back here eventually, but he wouldn’t hold his breath.

The trailer park was calm and quiet as they loaded what little everyone had collected into Wayne’s truck and Eddie’s van. Neither of the young girls had any belongings and Wayne himself only had a few small boxes and bags.

“Max, Ellie, you want to ride with me or with the boys?”

El turned to her brother before answering. “Is it okay if I go with Mr. Wayne?”

“Of course, sweetie. You two keep him company, I've got this one.” Steve said, winking at her and hooking a thumb in Eddie’s direction.

El grinned and she and Max climbed into the passenger side of the truck.

Wayne walked over as he threw the last bag in the bed of his truck.

“Now, you boys follow me closely. Where we’re going ain't all that far but it’s in the middle of nowhere.”

They rode in silence.

Both too scared of what this all meant to manage any kind of conversation but they kept each other’s hands in a desperate grip over the center console. It only got worse when Wayne pulled off the paved road and onto a dirt one, barely distinguishable from the unbeaten path around it. The way was bumpy and they had to go slow until eventually the trees grew too thick and they had to stop altogether.

There was a small cabin sitting in a clearing not far off, Eddie figured they’d just walk the last few feet.

“Hopper’s cabin?” Eddie guessed out loud once they had all gotten out of the vehicles, though he already knew he was right.

His uncle didn’t question it, just nodded in agreement. “It’s been in his family for years. When you came along, Jim was the first to realize we needed an escape plan if there was ever a risk you’d been discovered. He wiped all record of this place from city hall and what-not as best as he could, and we stocked it up with supplies. I hoped it’d never be needed but I'm sure glad we have it now.”

The cabin was neat, clean, and a lot nicer than the one Eddie had imagined, though it wasn’t any bigger unfortunately. It would be a bit of a tight squeeze for the 5 of them, but not much worse than home had been really so he knew they would make it work.

Predictably, Wayne insisted that the rest of them should take the only two bedrooms.

Max and El set off right away to explore their new and hopefully temporary home.

Eddie knew it was pointless to argue with the older man but he felt like he’d cost his uncle so much already. It didn’t seem right letting him give up one of the only beds too.

“Wayne, I think… “ He looked at Steve before continuing, hoping the other boy would be okay with what he was about to offer. He must have understood and nodded encouragingly. “You should take the other room. At your age you should really be sleeping in a bed and me and Steve will be alright out here.”

“I know you didn’t just say at my age.” His uncle said, arms crossing over his chest.

Eddie rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean, you should have a bed!”

Wayne looked at them in turn and sighed. “Boys, look, there's two of you and only one of me, and I don’t want to assume anything…” He trailed off, raking a hand over his suddenly red face. “I know you’ll tell me when you’re ready, but I think it’d be best for everyone if you had a little privacy. I’d just like to point out that the walls here don’t look much thicker than the trailer’s, so, keep that in mind.”

Eddie felt all the blood drain from his face. “Oh my god.”

“I'm not sayin’ I heard anything! But–” Wayne tried to continue, throwing his hands up in surrender, but Eddie interrupted him mid sentence.

“Oh my god Wayne, please stop talking. We’ll take the room and whatever else you want if you just please, please stop talking.”

Eddie chanced a sideways look at Steve. He’d been purposely avoiding the other boy’s gaze for the entire exchange, but they hadn’t yet talked about how open they wanted to be about their new relationship, and he was desperate to see how Steve was taking all this.

To Eddie’s shock he was watching the whole thing with barely concealed amusement. Clearly he was fine, at least with Wayne knowing about them. The whole thing was still completely mortifying, but he was relieved that Steve was taking it all in stride. Eddie was pretty sure he hadn’t come out to anyone yet really and he knew from personal experience how nerve wracking it could be to be seen, really seen, for the first time.

Wayne huffed a laugh and wandered off in the direction of the kitchen. Eddie snatched up his own bag as well as Steve’s and began to haul them both towards the bedroom they’d be sharing. He expected Steve to follow him, thought he had actually, until he overheard hushed voices on the other side of the cabin.

“Thank you for all this, for taking me and El in before and bringing us along now. I uh, I know how protective you are of Eddie and um, I just want you to know that this isn’t… I really care about him.”

“I can see that, son. Neither of you is very subtle, just uh, so you’re aware.” Wayne gave another breathy laugh. “I’m happy for the two of you and I want you to know I’ve got no problem with it. I've known about Eddie for a while and I love him just the same as I ever have. I support him. You too, Steve. He's got a good heart, and I'm glad he found someone who can see that and appreciate it.”

“Thank you.” Steve’s voice cracked on the short phrase and Eddie had to sneak a glance out the doorway to make sure he was okay.

Wayne had his arms wrapped around Steve, whose shoulders were shaking slightly. The older man was rubbing his back and murmuring to him quietly.

Eddie retreated back into the room and slowly began to unpack. He was so thankful for his uncle at that moment, for the sort of man he was, and the kindness he was showing Steve. He knew now what kind of people the Harrington's were. He wondered when Steve had last been hugged by a parental figure. It’d probably been a long time, well before he had disappeared and gotten locked up in that awful place. He had El, of course, and now he had Eddie too, but there was something different about having a trustworthy grownup in your corner. Someone who’d lived a bit. Who knew what life could throw at you and tried their best to keep you safe from it.

Eventually Steve came to find him and Eddie pretended not to notice the slight ring of red around his eyes. Steve smiled as he helped to put the last of their clothes into drawers. He seemed remarkably lighter, as if some long carried weight had been taken off his shoulders.

After all the drama of going on the run, their afternoon at the cabin was remarkably boring. There was nothing much to do except worry about the others and wait for some kind of word from Hopper. Wayne seemed sure the man would show up at any time. There was a phone on the wall, Eddie had noticed, but when he checked the line he found only dead air.

The girls had found a stack of old board games in a cupboard and were spending their time playing round after round of checkers.

Wayne busied himself in the kitchen, going over their supplies and throwing some kind of concoction together for dinner.

Eddie and Steve sat together on the couch trying to enjoy each other's company while stuck in the hell of waiting for the next thing to go wrong.

They all heard it when a car pulled up nearby, brakes squealing a little as it came to a stop. It occurred to Eddie as they all rushed outside that it might have been smarter to stay hidden until they knew if their visitor was friend or foe. But Wayne had been right in what he said earlier, they were out in the middle of fucking nowhere, the odds of someone just happening upon them there were slim to none.

Eddie never thought he’d see Hopper’s police SUV and feel such immense relief. He knew he probably owed the man an apology, several in fact. He’d always given the chief a hard time, he couldn’t help it. Hopper was ‘the man’, part of the system that Eddie had spent so much time and energy railing against, but he was coming to realize that under all his rough exterior the chief was actually a good guy, and way less concerned about the law than he could have been.

The driver's side door of the SUV opened and slammed closed, the sound echoing twice after as the rear passenger doors opened and closed. He wasn’t alone.

Chrissy and Robin raced through the trees, making it to the cabin before Hopper had made his way around the other side of his car.

Steve and Eddie turned to each other. Matching looks of surprise on their faces.

“Are you guys okay?” Robin asked when they got close enough to not have to shout.

Eddie went down the steps to meet the two girls, Steve following close behind.

“Yeah we’re all fine, what are you doing here?”

Chrissy threw herself at him abruptly, hugging him tight. “I’m so sorry it’s all my fault.”

Eddie tried to look at Robin over her shoulder, searching for any clue as to what the girl in his arms meant, but she was already busy talking a mile a minute to Steve.

He pulled back so he could see Chrissy's face. “What do you mean, Chris?”

“This, you having to run away from home and hide here. I should have known better than to come to your house last night. I should have known he’d follow me.”

“Wait, I thought, the fire- “ Eddie began, looking up to lock eyes with Hopper as he finally caught up to the group. “I thought this had something to do with the lab?”

“We’ll get to that in a bit but that's not why I gave you the signal to run. Jason Carver has been running around town all morning telling anyone who will listen that he saw Steve Harrington with you last night. That you’re the one who kidnapped him and have been holding him captive ever since. He also said you brainwashed his girlfriend and took Billy Hargrove prisoner. He thinks the D&D club at school is a front for your devil worshiping cult, and unfortunately there's a lot of small minded people in this town that want to believe him.”

“Fuck.”

Chapter 12

Thanks forever to @penny00dreadful for being the best friend, cheerleader, and beta in the whole fucking world💜

Taglist: @newtstabber @goodolefashionedloverboi @adaed5 @buckleybarnes @soaringornithopter @eddie-munsons-lunchbox @bestwifehaver @5ammi90 @sofadofax @ellietheasexylibrarian @manda-panda-monium @hardboiledleggs @mentallyundone @epiclazershark @herebedragons404 @estrellami-1 @paintsplatteredandimperfect @the-s-is-silent @brbsoulnomming @goinsteddie @steddie-there @yeahhhh-suga

#steddie fanfic #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddie #steve harrington/eddie munson #steve and el sibling supremacy #good uncle wayne #chrissy cunningham #max mayfield #robin buckley #canon is just a crazy game of d&d #sort of #ao3 #steddie fic #steve x eddie

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afewproblems · 1 year

Text

Part Two of my Mean!Eddie Misunderstandings WIP

You can read Part One Here

CW: The F-slur is used in this once, and it will show up in part three once. It's use is treated with a lot of negative weight with the context of how it is used and who used it (an atagonist that does not physically appear in this story) I do apologize if this language is upsetting to read - it was certainly upsetting to write.

***

"What the fuck Eddie," Mike snarls, he stands up so abruptly his chair nearly topples over.

Dustin is also on his feet the second Harrington disappears into the kitchen, he looks at Eddie once, his expression stormy, before following through the doorway.

Silence has spread over the room, slowly oozing around to fill each nook and cranny, it makes his skin itch as Eddie shifts, he goes to cross his arms over his chest but stops with a roll of his shoulders, he’s cool, a regular fucking cucumber right?

Except Will won't look him in the eyes and Lucas won't stop, he glares at Eddie with open disappointment.

Jeff clears his throat, he meets Eddie's gaze and tilts his head towards the door, as though trying to beam the thought directly into Eddie’s mind, ‘let’s get the fuck out of here before our welcome wears out’.

Eddie nods and both men turn to Gareth, considering he’s their ride it all kind of hinges on him.

Gareth stares straight ahead, pointedly ignoring everyone at the table, he wipes his face roughly with the hand not holding onto his character mini and drops it roughly onto the table.

"Oh what?" Eddie bites out, his chest suddenly fills with hot shame that smothers his heart, "I didn't say anything that wasn't true".

Eddie wants to snatch the words out of the air as soon as they escape, banish them from existence, but they seem to hang in the dining room between him and the kids.

Gareth shakes his head and stands up from his seat, he starts to silently clean up the table, collecting the miniatures and his own papers, Will moves to help while Mike seethes in the corner or the room, his head swivels back and forth from glaring at Eddie and back to the door that Dustin disappeared behind.

"You've been weird all night man," Lucas says harshly, he stands up and makes his way towards the kitchen door which bursts open to reveal a furious Dustin who stomps back into the room and begins collecting his things, haphazardly throwing sheets of notepaper and dice into his backpack --not even bothering to put his dice in the little drawstring cloth bag his mom made him.

"Woah woah woah," Eddie says sharply, he stands, knocking back his chair which scapes loudly against the hardwood floor "what the fuck are you doing Henderson?"

Dustin ignores him and continues packing, he reaches for the miniature that Gareth moved onto the table and stops as Eddie snatches it away from his hand.

Dustin meets Eddie’s gaze, wearing a matching mutinous glare.

“Give it back,” Will interjects with a soft but firm voice, his gaze is unwavering as he stands up and moves towards Dustin’s side of the table. He also has his backpack slung over his shoulder --when the hell did that happen?

“But you--”

“EDDIE,” Gareth shouts, his eyes are wide, face pinched into a grimace.

Gareth takes a second to breathe after the outburst and swallows harshly, ignoring the eyes on him, "I think it's safe to say we aren’t playing tonight man".

The whole night is unraveling around him, everything he planned for the evening, the meticulous character beats he mapped out based on the backstories everyone crafted, the NPC’s he researched at the library -dodging Mrs. Depencier between the stacks before she could try to kick him out.

The homebrew monster, the final boss he had mashed together out of three different beasts in his well worn copy of the monster manual.

He had prepped all of it for tonight, he'd been excited, ready to show off his skills in a new environment, maybe show off a little bit for--

Oh.

Oh fucking hell.

Eddie wants to kick himself. Hard. Repeatedly.

Eddie wanted to see what Steve would think, this was going to be the performance of a lifetime and he had catapulted himself directly into the sun without hesitation.

Tonight had been ruined, mostly by himself --not Steve.

An oily thought creeps in and whispers in his ear, 'so what? It isn't as though King-Steve hadn't ruined plenty of things for you before, your first two senior years were dog shit before people started to forget about the whole--'

Eddie shakes his head harshly and scrubs both hands over his face, the rings catch lightly in his hair and tug as he bring them down.

"I'll call my mom to come get us, I'm sure she'll be happy it's so early," Lucas mumbles before he gets up from his seat and slowly makes his way towards the kitchen door to use the landline. The door swings softly shut with a quiet snick.

The silence in the room is heavy, only punctuated by Mike muttering under his breath to Will and Dustin as he snatches several things from the table and the floor. Lucas eventually reenters the dining room and Mike shoves an armful of note papers and Lucas's Human Cleric character sheet -which has become creased and wrinkled in Mike's frenzy, towards Lucas and Dustin.

"Figure out whose is whose later, let's just go if we're done, I'd rather walk," Mike snarls as he looks over his shoulder at Eddie, Gareth, and Jeff.

"Jesus Mike," Lucas mutters, "gonna have to rewrite this whole thing out now," he pauses as he looks Eddie up and down with narrow eyes, "maybe".

Lucas shakes his head, "anyway, mom is on her way, she's happy to come get us early so she'll drop you guys off, she's taking the van".

Mike nods, the perpetual sneer on his face deepens as he walks towards the hall leading to the front entryway, "I'm waiting outside, are you guys coming or not?"

The kids file out through the hallway, one by one without looking back, leaving Eddie, Jeff,and Gareth standing around the empty dining room table.

They freeze at the sight of a long, deep, scratch in the center of the wood.

Had that been there before?

A pit begins to form in Eddie's stomach, cavernous and deep, he sweats at the sight of it.

"Shit," he whispers, mostly to himself, but Jeff catches it.

"That was there before man," Jeff murmurs, though the conviction isn't quite there, he stares at the table before raising his eyes to look at Gareth, "right?"

"I don't fucking know man," Gareth hisses, he also has his messenger bag now slung across his shoulder.

"I'm not sticking around to get blamed for trashing Harringtons table," Jeff says lowly, he's already backing up towards the hallway leading to the front entrance, "I’m not afraid to take your car Gar, hurry it up," he says before turning on his heel and walking down the hall, Eddie flinches at the sound of the door slamming shut behind them.

Gareth curses under his breath and steps away from the table, “Well,” he huffs, “are you happy?”

Eddie's jaw drops as the words hit him square in the chest, "What? Gar--"

"No," Gareth says sharply, the volume steadily rising as he steps closer to Eddie and jabs a rigid finger into his chest, "are you happy with how this went? Does this finally make you feel better?"

"Cuz, we don't care if you're friends with him or if you hate the guy," Gareth shakes his head once and steps back, away from Eddie's space, "Maybe Jeff does a little bit, but he's just being protective I think".

Gareth waves his arms as though to clear the tangent away, "it doesn't matter, the point is, you're acting like it's still highschool and this," Gareth gestures towards the table, "is fucking mean man".

A car horn beeps from outside startling both of them; Gareth sighs and shrugs the strap on his bag higher up his shoulder as he turns towards the hallway, "so if you want to hate the guy, stop stringing him along, it's bullshit".

Stop stringing him along.

Stringing him along?

The words echo again and again in his head, Eddie feels his chest tighten and grow cold as the words sink in, what the hell was Gareth talking about?

"If you don't want to be his friend just tell the guy, I don't understand what you're doing Ed?" Gareth says with a sigh.

The horn beeps again outside, Gareths eyebrow twitches once and his expression slowly twists from an irritated scowl to something close to murderous.

"Whatever," he huffs angrilly, "are you coming or not? It sounds like Jeff's about two seconds away from grand theft auto, and if he beeps the horn one more time I can't be held responsible for my actions".

Eddie swallows harshly and nods, he steps back from the table, his legs sluggish in their response as he slowly trudges after Gareth.

As Eddie moves through the hall, passing large framed art pieces and not a single family picture, he catches a whiff of something from the kitchen, warm pastry? Something savory he imagines.

Eddie ignores the queasy lurch in his gut at the thought that whatever Steve had made that night didn't even make it past the kitchen.

***

If you had asked Eddie back in highschool to give you his opinion on the social hierarchy of Hawkins High he would give you a fairly general answer.

You had your standard Asshole Jocks, your Narcissist Beauty Queen Cheerleaders, your Nerds with the smaller subsections of Band Geeks and Weirdos - everyone’s seen The Breakfast Club, it’s a no brainer really.

Eddie was quite content to sneer and jeer with the best of them, focusing his ire on the very top, the Asshole Jocks that made it their mission to ruin the lives of anyone they deemed lower than themselves. Billy Hargrove and Tommy Hagan were the original worst of these with Jason Carver following close behind, but Harrington? King-Steve? He was a bit harder to pin down.

For Steve-the-Hair-Harrington, it would be a firm comparison to the grime in between Eddie’s toes after ten laps around the gym in socks he’d worn for three days.

Eddie could admit, if only to himself, that Harrington was certainly aesthetically attractive, with his tanned golden skin dotted with a constellation of moles that Eddie desperately wanted to play Connect the Dots with. The athletics uniform was criminally short, accentuating his long legs and strong thighs. More than once did Eddie ditch gym just to avoid making direct eye-contact with the outline of Harrington’s dick in that green scrap of fabric.

Sue him, man was hot, but he was also a huge asshole.

Harrington was mean, whispering cruel things under his breath to Hagan and Perkins, snickering to himself when he made a particularly cruel observation about Joey MacDonald and his resemblance to a certain fast food clown - it wasn’t even clever given that it was only the kid’s last name, but the nickname followed that boy till he graduated along with the smell of old french fries that people would stuff in his locker between classes. And well, there was one other rumor he started, not that Eddie let it remotely bother him.

Fuck, Highschool kids were the worst.

But, then all of a sudden, here comes Harrington in his junior year with his usually handsome face beaten in and a haunted slump in his shoulders. And whoever had done it pulled no punches. Word around school was that Byers was the one that cleaned Harrington’s clock, over Nancy Wheeler of all people. And not only that, but King-Steve had been dumped by his two best friends, thrown away like an old piece of trash.

Now again, Eddie never really gave much credence to rumors, especially the ones about himself, and given the way Hawkins High seemed to churn out a new rumor every other day this was more than likely an exaggeration. But with Hagan and Perkins giving Harrington a wide berth, and trading off glaring while hiding their kicked puppy expressions in their school books; the whole school watched as they were slowly replaced by Wheeler and Byers who encircled King-Steve, Ex-King now, with equally haunted expressions. It was even harder to argue with the evidence starring Eddie in the face.

They made absolutely no sense together, especially Byers; the three of them sitting at lunch in their own little world, with Harrington slowly slipping down the rungs and onto the bottom of the social ladder.

What on earth did Nancy Wheeler and Jonathan Byers even have in common with someone like Steve Harrington?

Eddie hardly ever saw Harrington around school after that, if he did he was mostly alone or followed around by a gaggle of children from the Junior High down the street that followed him around like puppies. To think of Harrington and kids in the same sentence, that the former King had lowered himself to the likes of babysitting a bunch of brats - it was…weird to say the least.

Especially given how Eddie knew who Steve was. Harrington wasn’t soft, he wasn’t kind, he was a bully and a thug with a glass jaw, the worst kind of pathetic that ever graced their shitty highschool halls and Fuck Him for doing the one thing that Eddie couldn’t even do.

Eddie would be repeating his senior year while the Ex-King asshole left it all behind him.

God dammit.

It wasn’t really until Chrissy Cunninham died in his uncle’s trailer that cool March evening all of four months ago that he even had an excuse to be in the same room as the ousted monarch - if you could count pressing a jagged bottle to Steve’s pretty throat and pressing his lithe frame into the corrugated aluminum wall of Rick’s boathouse.

And Steve? Rumor spreading, ex-King, Asshole Jock, Steve Harrington, was not all that bad as it turned out? Eddie couldn’t really keep the thread of his arguments about Harrinton as Eddie was carried out through the last remaining portal out of the Upside Down, nestled safely in Steve’s arms.

The son of a bitch.

Suddenly, Steve is everywhere, chauffeuring the kids to the arcade, visiting Eddie in the hospital, bringing Wayne food to the trailer --because of course he likes to cook apparently? And Wayne just loves him, won’t shut up about, ‘that Harrington boy and his thoughtful casserole’, and ‘when’s the next time you’re going to bring that Harrington kid by?’

Then it’s movie nights with the kids, and Nancy, Jonathan, Robin, and Argyle, smoke sessions in the Byers backyard, pool days when the weather finally warms enough for the kids to jump in. God help him, Harrington is showing off even more skin than Eddie would like during these pool days, his little moles spread over the planes of his back and legs. Steve has more scars than Eddie remembers from the highschool Varsity swim meets but he’s not complaining.

Stupid handsome jock.

Eddie feels like he’s gone crazy, like he’s the only one that feels this way, as if he’d been dropped into an alternate universe where everything was the same except for Steve Harrington.

And given the fact that alternate dimensions actually exist, well, this theory is not actually that outlandish.

Especially because Steve was…nice okay? He was nice. Eddie had it right the first time when they were walking around that creepy Upside Down forrest, even if he hadn't fully believed it at the time, the words were apparently true.

Well they were true now anyway.

Steve was sweet, he was funny, he cared so so much, the kids loved him, and Eddie couldn't quite get the sound of Steve's musical laugh out of his head, or the way his hazel eyes crinkled in the corners when he smiled--

Fuck.

Steve was also best friends with Robin --someone Eddie knows that Steve would never have given the time of day back in highschool and the two are practically soulmates now.

Eddie was fairly certain they weren’t dating because he’s also fairly certain he clocked Robin the same way she had clocked him after their second shared joint a few months back.

She hasn't said anything but there was no mistaking the way her eyes trailed to the bandana in his back pocket and the way his own eyes landed on the little homemade pink triangle patch on her messenger bag.

And the way she had smiled at him after, it was small but the understanding and the feeling of being seen left him warm in a way he hadn't felt around a lot of people other than Wayne, Gareth, and Jeff.

And then, of course, Steve had to go and ruin everything, offering up his own home for the next Hellfire club meeting.

If it hadn’t meant Steve actually spending more than five minutes in passing with Jeff and Gareth it probably wouldn’t have been so stressful.

And like the proverbial cherry on top, it had all blown up in his face.

The kids were actively avoiding him now, dodging his calls and making excuses about why they were busy, ranging from Will needing to help Jane with some kind of project she'd been working on, or Lucas citing babysitting duty for Erica --after having met Lady Applejack this was not as believable but Eddie let it go.

Mike would grumble, clearly going off a script of some sort to keep his friends appeased, but with the lazy excuse of just being 'busy'. And, Mike being Mike, he'd follow it up with an ever so kind, 'get your head out of your asshole man, Will was our DM before and he'd have no problem picking up where we left off'.

And didn't that sting just a bit?

Dustin just refused to engage with Eddie, repeating the phrase, 'if you have a problem with Steve then you have one with me,' or the more eloquent, 'get bent'.

Gareth wasn't much better. The last time Eddie was able to get him on the phone he’d told him to call when ‘his personal shit stopped interfering with Hellfire,’ and to, ‘get his head out of his ass sometime’.

He and Mike needed to hang out more apparently.

It sucked, especially with how icy the kids have been towards him. Even Max, who must had heard about it all from Lucas, had taken it upon herself to avenge their babysitter, smearing mud on the front window of his van and writing, DICK, in bright red lipstick letters on every single side window. Eddie would be impressed if he wasn’t the one that had to clean it up.

Jeff has been fairly tight lipped about it all, not really siding with Gareth or the kids, he and Eddie would still jam together but it wasn’t the same without their drummer.

Without Hellfire or his band to practice with, Eddie is bored, which is never a good thing in his experience, and has time and time again led him to disaster.

Which is how Eddie finds himself outside Family Video.

Eddie sits in his van for nearly twenty minutes before he ventures inside, scanning the windows relentlessly for any sign of Harrington or Buckley. It's the middle of the day on Tuesday, Keith is usually in on weekdays so he should be fine, what are the chances that the source of his recent frustrations would be working today of all days.

Apparently pretty high.

The bell dings above Eddie as he swings the door open and the smell of stale popcorn hits him in the face as he steps over the threshold, there's no one at the counter --not a great sign since Keith usually posts up with a comic or a magazine up front so he can still look busy while watching for shoplifters.

But it's fine, there's absolutely no sign of either of the Wonder Twins, it's fine.

Eddie takes another step and sees Jonathan and Argyle just behind the New Releases shelf, they've each got a tape in hand and seem to be arguing about which one they should go with.

Argyle spies Eddie first and waves jovially from their spot behind the shelf, Jonathan's gaze follows Argyle's and he lifts his hand in a half hearted wave, and jeez, tell a guy how you really feel, Eddie thinks to himself.

"What's up brochacho, how's it hangin'?" Argyle calls out as Eddie makes his way over with a smile, he ignores the stiffness in Jonathan’s posture and tries to focus on Argyle’s friendly grin.

"Eh," Eddie hums, throwing his hands in his back pockets, "can't complain too much, when you've literally been to Hell it puts things into perspective".

Argyle nods and opens his mouth to say something when another voice joins them from behind Eddie.

"If you're here to rent something, hurry up and get out," Robin growls nearly in his ear.

Eddie flinches and turns around to face her, he almost stumbles backwards at the furious expression on her freckled face. Robin's blue eyes flash and pierce his own, her mouth stretches into a blunt line across her face. Robin's arms cross over her chest, covering her name tag and the 'Ask me for Help' button, she seems to stand taller than her actual height and Eddie feels as though he's somehow managed to shrink down to two inches tall.

"Hey hey miss Birdy, got any recommendations for a Friday night smoke sesh?" Argyle says warmly, if he's aware of the tension in the room he doesn't show it.

"Monty Python, two rows over on the left," Robin mutters, her eyes never once leaving Eddie's face.

"Choice pick, we got our movie man," Argyle crows to Jonathan as he puts back the Ferris Bueller tape and makes his way down the stacks.

Jonathan's eyes flick between Eddie and Robin, he hesitates for just a moment before following after Argyle and leaving Eddie to his fate.

"Okay listen--"

"No you listen," Robin snarls, stepping into his space and shoving a rigid pointer finger into his chest, "I don't know what you're problem is but if you're going to be an asshole, you can show yourself out before I do it for you".

Eddie bristles slightly and lifts his hand to push hers away, "you talk to all of your customers like this Buckley?"

Robin scoffs and steps back, as though reminded that they are in fact in public, "rent something then or get out," she bites out, turning on her heel and walking away to meet Argyle and Jonathan at the checkout.

Eddie feels his face twist into a fierce frown, he can't even rent movies in peace now without this thing hanging over his head, he hadn't even said anything that bad, this was getting ridiculous.

The bell dings as Argyle and Jonathan leave, Argyle waves again, which Eddie returns unenthusiastically before stalking into the horror section in three strides. He snatches Children of the Corn off the shelf and stomps up to the desk. Robin's scowl matches his own as he reaches back to grab his wallet from the back pocket and --its not there.

Eddies stomach plummets into the bottom of his shoes, he can see if in his minds eye on the desk in his bedroom, it's not even in the van where he could easily run and grab it, Shit.

"What?" Robin grumbles as Eddie opens and closes his mouth silently, cursing his own stupidity and the rapid flush creeping up his own neck.

"Robin, I organized the back room, I still don't think that was really on the list but --oh!" Steve says as he walks towards them from the back of the store, a half door swings back and forth in his wake below a tiny hand written Employee's Only sign above the doorway.

Steve looks between the two of them, his face jumping through several expressions before settling on something carefully neutral, blank in a way Eddie hates.

"Hey Eddie," Steve says in that phoney cheerful customer service voice he made fun of just a few short weeks ago, Eddie remembers leaning over the counter and teasing Steve about it just to watch his ears turn pink.

But now they're here, and Steve is actually giving him the customer voice, like that's all he is now.

Fuck.

"I uh," Eddie mumbles, hating the way he can feel his own face heat up, he wants the floor to swallow him up, banish him to the Underdark, "I was going to grab this, but I forgot my wallet, forget it".

Robin smiles, almost triumphantly, and moves to lean against the front of the counter. Her left leg kicks out to cross in front of her right leg at the ankle, looking like the proverbial cat that caught the canary, Eddie hates her for just a moment.

"Its fine man," Steve hums, he takes the tape gently from Eddie's hands and walks around the counter to get to the computer, he starts typing and scans the movie before sliding it across the counter towards Eddie. Robin frowns and nearly stumbles in her attempt to move around to where Steve is standing.

"Steve," Robin hisses at him when she sees the computer screen, worry lines etch deep across her forehead and her mouth does this weird little wobble before creasing into a frown.

"Uh, seriously dude," Eddie mumbles, "I don't have my wallet and I don't have any change on me--"

"Don't worry about it," Steve says smoothly without missing a beat, "Rob and I get free rentals once a month, just take mine".

Eddies eyebrows rise slowly into the wispy bangs covering his forehead as Robin tisks loudly from beside Steve,

"What, just like that?" he says slowly, the words stick to his tongue which all of a sudden feels as though it's three times too big for his own mouth. Why the fuck was Harrington being so nice to him, like the other night didn't matter at all.

"Yup," Steve says simply, he doesn't pop the 'p' like he used to, and his face is so neutral and smooth. It's not back to their normal after all, but what was he expecting, nothing was.

"Anything else we can do? I gotta get back to rewinding the tapes," Steve says as he jerks his thumb towards the back room again.

Steve hesitates for a second, he's still facing Eddie and looks as though he's on the verge of saying something, his large hazel eyes dart back and forth between Eddies own for a moment, before he lifts his right hand to roughly pinch at the bridge of his nose once before the hand sweeps into his hair, pushing it away from his face.

Robin, who had been watching them like a far more predatory bird than her namesake, steps closer and knocks into Steve's shoulder gently.

"Remember, they are organized and outnumber us like 200 to one," she barks, saluting him with her left hand, "don't rewind till you see the whites of their tape cases".

Steve's blank expression cracks with a small smile, he reaches up to switch out her left hand with her right and then draws himself up to his full height.

Steve squares his shoulders, "if the tapes claim me, don't be a hero Buckley, remember me fondly".

She snorts and shakes her head as he brushes past her, Steve looks over his shoulder once at Eddie before disappearing into the back once more.

Eddie watches him leave, the Children of the Corn clutched in his hands so tightly he's almost worried the plastic will warp, he misses Robin silently siddle up next to him and nearly jumps a foot in the air as she speaks.

"Don't let the door hit you on the way out," Robin growls softly before she sweeps over to the push cart filled with returns and walks it over to the closest shelf, pointedly ignoring him.

Eddie huffs out an irritated sigh but feels his shoulders slowly deflate on their own as he trudges back towards the entrance, the bell rings once again as he steps outside into the mid afternoon sun.

Gravel crunches underneath Eddie's ratty chucks as he heads towards the van, stopping in his tracks when he spots Jonathan leaning against the driver's side door.

"Uh, hey Byers?"

Jonathan waves again before crossing his arms, he's glaring at the ground as though it personally offended him. Eddie looks around, letting his eyes trail over the other cars in the lot.

"Where's your partner in crime?" Eddie asks carefully, he knows Argyle wouldn't have just left without Jonathan.

Jonathan waves his hand towards the convenience store at the end of the parking lot, "he's grabbing snacks, he should be back soon," Jonathan shugs and settles back against the van.

It's awkward, Eddie can count the number of times he and Jonathan have hung out on one hand, he's seen Argyle way more, sharing trade secrets and sampling some grade A California Kush while he's at it.

But Eddie and Jonathan, he's got nothing.

"Sooo," Eddie hums, dragging out the syllable as he steps towards Jonathan and leans against the van beside him, "you here to yell at me too?"

Jonathan scoffs and shakes his head, but his arms do tighten a fraction around his midsection, hah, gotcha.

"No, but honestly dude, if Nancy and I have to hear the kids bitch and moan one more time about whatever the hell is going on between you and Harrington," he shakes his head and snorts.

Eddie bristles slightly but nods, "Yeah Mike's got a mouth on him huh?"

"So," Jonathan starts and immediately shuts his mouth with a snap and a grimace. He seems to steady himself before meeting Eddie's gaze, it's unnerving.

"Fuck it, look," Jonathan snaps, he turns to face Eddie, "I'm not the biggest fan of Harrington myself, but we’re not going out of our way to see each other and if you're going to do this kind of thing I'd prefer if Will wasn't in the same room," Jonathan scrubs a tired hand over his face, "he was pretty upset the other night, said you were a prick to Dustin too".

And that Eddie can't even defend, he bites the inside if his cheek and nods again, letting his arms wrap around himself tightly, it's such little comfort that it leaves him feeling cold despite the midafternoon heat and glaring sunshine.

"What's going on man?" Jonathan says softly this time, he's still facing Eddie but has leaned back slightly.

"You remember how shitty Hawkins high was right?" Eddie says after a beat, the words barely escape between his teeth, but someone else needs to know.

Jonathan doesn't say anything but he nods once, a dark look crosses over his face momentarily before disappearing.

"And I'm sure you heard some of the rumours that were going around about me," Eddie rubs his hand across his nose, "that whole place was a fucking gossip factory, I know most -if not all of it was bullshit, but".

Fuck.

He doesn't even know how to say it.

"Harrington told everyone I was a," he swallows roughly, the word catches in his throat as though covered in barbs, "a…fag, and that my parents kicked me out after my dad tried to kill me, that was the reason I was living with Wayne".

Eddie stares, unseeing, at the ground, he hears a sharp intake of breath but keeps going.

"And now," he breathes out, hating the way it catches slightly in his throat, "I don't know how to feel about him, I'm so fucking angry about it, but he's so God Damn nice now, it's like whiplash".

"The worst part is," Eddie continues, breathing deeply through his nose, his eyes start to burn, fuck, he doesn't want to do this here, "I don't even know if he remembers, that's what makes me so angry".

Eddie barks out a wet laugh, "that it made me a target, and for him it was nothing".

Jonathan is quiet for a moment, staring past Eddie with a pensive expression, "when did this happen?" he says softly.

"I don't know man," Eddie sighs, he brings a hand up to press into his eyes until stars explode across his vision, they come away wet.

"It was one of my senior years, the first go around, why?"

"Because," Jonathan urges, his voice uncharacteristically harsh, "I heard Billy Hargrove say that, like word for word, at Tina's Halloween party, and that was like two years ago".

Eddie remembers Billy Hargrove. Though Billy and Tommy were both assholes, Billy was the actual scary one of the pair.

Eddie remembers that party too. He had made some decent money that night, posting up in the backyard, letting his drunk classmates come to him. Eddie had even wandered inside a few times to grab a beer or two before leaving, no one had really bothered him that night, granted it seemed hard to shake that Mullet wearing psychos flinty gaze, but if he thinks hard about it enough, everything changed after that night.

Eddie stops breathing, it takes almost a full minute for him to really catch up to what Jonathan is saying, "but, but I thought for sure…" he stammers, voice tight.

"Eddie," Jonathan says, the gentle tone back as looks him in the eye, "Steve spent that whole night babysitting Nancy. It was a whole thing, he left early too because they had a big fight".

Jonathan takes a deep breath, and blows it slowly through his nose, it releases the rigid line of tension in Byers shoulders. His dark eyes scan Eddie's face before he sighs again and stuffs his hands into his pockets.

"I'm not trying to defend the guy, he was a prick in high school, but if you've been blaming him for spreading that shit around, I think you have the wrong guy".

Eddie's is racing, he feels as though he's underwater and sinking deeper, his vision narrowing to a single point of light just above him. His lungs shudder as he tries to catch his breath.

"Hey, slow down and breathe man," Jonathan murmurs, a worried grimace pulls at his mouth as his head swivels to and fro, scanning the parking lot. Jonathan reaches to put a warm hand on Eddie's shoulder, "you're going to make yourself pass out".

"I'm good man, I'm fine," Eddie bites out. He shifts and straightens his back, stepping away from Jonathan and the van, he nearly stumbles in his efforts to move.

Jonathan leans back with both hands raised in front of him in, ready to steady the metal-head if needed, his eyes dart across Eddie's face with wary concern.

"Relax Byers," Eddie breathes out as he takes another step away. He looks back towards the Family Video, in case they've drawn an audience by now.

He can see Steve and Robin through the window, they're both at the counter, their backs are turned--thankfully.

Robin has one hand on Steve's back as she gestures emphatically away from herself with the other, he's nodding but his whole posture has drooped, wilted like an old flower.

Eddie feels his heart clench again at the sight. Fuck.

"Hey man, mind getting off my van? I have to make a call".

***

Eddie races home, the old breaks squeal and the engine shudders as he turns abruptly into the gravel drive just ahead of their new government issued trailer.

Though it didn't have the same feel as their old trailer, the notches on the bathroom doorway to track his height over the years replaced by pristine white paint, the spaghetti stain on the ceiling from Eddies first ambitious attempts to make Wayne dinner replaced by the same stark whiteness. Wayne was able to save some of their photos and Eddie's favorite Dio poster, it helped a little bit remind them of their former home, but it wasn’t quite the same.

For all it lacked, at least the ceilings were whole, with no sign of the horrific death Eddie had witnessed just a few short months ago.

Eddie turns off the engine and unbuckles himself as he opens the door and steps out of the van. The feel of gravel and grass under his feet is grounding, but he still feels as though he might fly apart at any moment.

His uncle's pickup is still out front; Eddie winces at his own park job and considers getting back in the van to try again --his uncle will have to swing wide just to get around him for work at this point, but there's an itch in Eddie's brain. He has to talk to Gareth, make sense of this.

Eddie makes his way inside, Wayne isn't in the living room or kitchen based on his quick scan, he barely manages to close the front door behind him in his haste to get to the phone.

Eddie hears the main bathroom fan and Wayne humming tunelessly to himself, he figures he probably has at least half an hour to use the phone undisturbed.

Eddie snatches the phone off the base hung on the wall beside their Kit-Cat Klock, he immediately wraps his fingers in the cord and dials Gareths number. It rings again and again, fuck.

"Hello?"

"Gareth, don't hang up!" Eddie struggles to keep the shout out of his voice, he wraps and unwraps his hands in the phone cord, tangling his fingers nervously as a long sigh crackles over the line.

"What man?" Gareth huffs, impatience saturates the words and Eddie can't keep his own bottled up for even a moment longer.

"I fucked up," Eddie whispers, "I fucked up Gar," he untagles his one hand long enough to sweep it up into his hair, pulling it away from his face.

He can hear the rustle of cloth and movement over the handset as Gareth breathes out a soft and confused, 'what,' on the other side but once the words start Eddie can't seem to contain them any longer.

"I don't know what to do," he says, his voice pitched in a low whine, "I spent so long absolutely convinced that Harrington was the one who put that target on my back in highschool, that he was the one who spread all those rumors".

Eddie begins to pace, two steps forward, and two steps back, he's too caught up in the phone cord to move much further around the kitchen but he feels the need to channel his frenetic energy somewhere.

"But he didn't, I just," Eddie swallows and removes his hand from his hair to press roughly into his eyes once more, "I just assumed".

Gareth says nothing, the only reason Eddie knows he's still there is the fact that the call hasn't cut out to a dial tone.

"I think, I think ruined it Gar, I don't know how to fix this, i think we could have been friends…"

A scoff bursts over the line and Eddie flinches at the sudden sound.

"Sorry, but Eddie, this is exactly what I was talking about".

Gareth sighs loudly and shifts again, "don't think it was just Jeff that was confused and maybe even a little angry that you started hanging out with the guy, but we thought, 'well, if Eddie forgave him, and wants to be his friend then we can deal,'" Gareth hesitates for a beat before speaking slowly, choosing his words carefully.

"If he did or didn't do it wasn't the issue Ed, you can't have it both ways. You can't try and be with the guy, lead him on like that, and hang on to this grudge, you'd just be hurting yourself and Steve more".

Eddie feels himself pale as he freezes in the middle of his pacing, he swallows hard but manages to keep his grip on the phone steady.

"I dont--you keep saying that--" he stutters, ignoring the cold feeling that settles in his gut.

"Eddie, come on, we have eyes in our heads, we didn't care that you liked guys, we don't care that you have a thing for Harrington -well I mean, Jeff might but he'd get over it if you asked him to".

Eddie feels his heart climb into his throat and nods once before remembering Gareth isn't actually there in person, he cradles the phone to his cheek and whispers, "I know".

"So fix it," Gareth says softly, "I don't know why you're talking to me, it sounds like you already know what you have to do".

"For what it's worth," Gareth says with a sigh and Eddie can hear the small smile in his voice this time, "I do think he's changed since highschool, and I am glad that he wasn't the one who said those things about you, it'll make my shovel talk a little easier anyway".

Eddie barks out a laugh that comes out a little wet, "thanks man," he mumbles into the receiver.

"Anytime, now get off the line, I gotta break the news to Jeff, he'll need time to digest".

Eddie laughs and hangs up the phone after a soft, 'goodbye you dick,' and turns to see Wayne leaning against the entrance to the kitchen watching him with a raised eyebrow and a stern expression.

"So, you finally gonna fix what's had you moping around here for the last couple o' days?" Wayne asks, his voice is casual but there's a glint in his brown eyes, so like Eddie's own, that puts him on edge.

Eddie winces and runs his hand through his curls towards the back to cradle his head, he hesitates as Wayne tilts his head slightly, waiting for his normally talkative nephew to speak.

After another beat Wayne sighs and pushes himself off the doorway, he steps into the kitchen and makes his way to the cupboard to pull out his favorite Indiana Pacers mug. Wayne busies himself with the kettle, while Eddie sweats by the phone.

"Uh, how much did you hear of that?" Eddie says eventually, he picks at the skin on his fingers and shifts his weight from foot to foot.

Wayne tilts his head to the side to look over his shoulder at Eddie as he adds two scoops of instant coffee into the empty mug while the water starts to boil.

"Well, it sounds like you and Harrington had something of a misunderstanding, that why he hasn't been 'round here with that famous lasagna of his?"

Eddie huffs out a laugh and rolls his eyes, "I guess you could say that," he chews on his lip roughly for a moment before releasing it, "I just don't know how to even start Wayne".

His uncle hums at that, flicking the stove burner off just as the kettle begins to hiss and whine, he pulls it off the metal coils and pours a helping of water into his awaiting mug before putting the kettle on the farthest burner to cool back down. He picks up the spoon he had used to scoop the instant coffee and stirs thoughtfully, allowing the metal to clink and clang against the chipped ceramic.

"Have you thought to just talk to him? Harrington seems like a good kid, I doubt he's holding a grudge--"

"I was mean Wayne, I was a dick in front of the kids," Eddies breathing picks up as he continues to speak, "they all hate me right now, they won't talk to me, and I kind of hate me a little bit right now and--"

Eddie stops talking as Wayne crosses the kitchen and pulls him into a fierce hug. He lets himself sink into it.

Wayne had always been somewhat easy going with affection, doling out hugs and pats on the back, but ever since Eddie had been discharged from the hospital Wayne seemed hyper aware of the need for comfort without being asked.

"If you're sorry then tell him, and if he doesn't want to hear it then you let him be, either he'll forgive you or he won't," Wayne's voice rumbles through his chest, he feels the hug begin to loosen as Wayne leans away to catch his eye once more, "sounds like the kids might be owed their own apology but you can do that after Harrington, what do we do when make mistakes?"

"We fix em," Eddie whispers, he feels lighter, lighter than he has since Gareth drove him and Jeff home in stony silence that fateful night.

"Damn right, now go on, if I have to miss another one of those damn casseroles you're gonna owe me an apology".

***

The drive isn't long but waiting for the approximate time that he figured Steve would be home was absolute torture, he even let Wayne fix him his own cup of instant coffee -how his uncle could drink that stuff was beyond Eddie but the warmth of the cup was grounding as time ticked by.

Eddie waited until six, figuring that would be the safest bet after a day shift, worst case scenario he'd go home and try again tomorrow if the house was empty.

A small anxious part of him hoped it would be.

The lights are on when he pulls up to the house, and Steve's beemer is in the driveway.

Okay, he could do this, all he had to do was go up to the door.

Eddie shuts the engine off, tapping out a nervous rhythm on the steering wheel as he grabs his keys and pops open his van door.

Eddie breathes in deeply through his nose and releases it slowly through mouth as he steps onto the walkway to the front door. The porch light is on despite the sun sitting high in the sky.

Eddie hesitates as he reaches the dark red double doors, all he has to do is raise his hand to ring the bell or knock, but he's frozen suddenly, his heart beats a wild staccato in his chest and that feeling of slowly sinking under water from earlier is back.

Eddie shakes his head, he faced down feral demon bats, and trudged through a poisonous forest to help hunt down Vecna, he could do this!

The door in front of him suddenly opens of its own accord revealing Steve’s frantic and confused face.

Shit.

***

Thank you everyone! There will be a part three that will finally have some comfort for all this whump and angst!! (I PROMISE!)

Taglist: @zerokrox-blog @samcoxramblings @thosemessyvibes @liketheocean @vampireinthesun @themostunoriginalpersonever @merricatty

(I hope these tags work and if I missed you I'm so sorry!!)

Continue with Part Three Here

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atmilliways · 9 months

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Wrong On The Money (24)

part 24 of ?? | 672 words | Teen+

Blackmail fic on Ao3 | on tumblr

Summary:

By the time Eddie wakes up, it’s not a private room anymore. He looks blearily over to his right, sees Steve lying still and quiet in a hospital bed of his own, and immediately tries to sit up. Wake up, I don’t like this.

24.

By the time Eddie wakes up, it’s not a private room anymore. He looks blearily over to his right, sees Steve lying still and quiet in a hospital bed of his own, and immediately tries to sit up.

Wake up, I don’t like this.

“Oh motherfucker,” Eddie groans at the immediate wildfire the motion starts through his core. He feels like he’s being split open down the middle.

“Easy son, easy—” By the time Wayne’s intercepting hands reach him, Eddie is already falling back the inch or so he’d managed to rise with a pained whine. It’s jarring to see Wayne in a hospital setting again, but, well. Tables are pretty damn well turned now. And while the man looks stressed and worried, that's nothing to the gray, haggard ghost of himself that he'd been while sick.

It takes Eddie several minutes, a button that sends painkiller straight through his veins like a cold bath from the inside out, and a pitiful mouthful of ice chips to compose himself again.

“Steve,” he wheezes finally. “What happened?”

Wayne snorts. “Dumbassery.”

Eddie manages a weak smile. “Be more specific?”

“Looked like he got chewed on by the same thing that spit you out, only he didn’t get it looked at. Took the time to save your life first, though.” Taking the cup of ice chips away for later, Wayne sits back in his uncomfortable visitor's chair with a sigh. “The hell’d you get yourself mixed up in this time, Ed? First I come in here to find the Harrington boy watchin’ over you and you’re handcuffed to the bed. Then he keels over, and half an hour later Jim Hopper comes back from the dead to uncuff you and say the government’s covering all the medical bills.”

And the drugs might play a role here, but Eddie tells him. There’s no ‘you’re not gonna believe me,’ not with Wayne.

He tells him everything. Chrissy, holding a broken bottle to Steve’s neck, the Upside Down and its monsters, everything. Even the blackmail part. Even though it takes him several tries over at least a whole day because he keeps drifting in and out, quality drugs and sheer exhaustion dragging him down into much needed rest.

When he’s done, Wayne regards him with a measured look—and in this case, the measuring cup is heaped full with are you fucking kidding me.

Eddie braces himself. (Mentally, anyway. Physically, he can't do shit.) The being gay, the dealing drugs, the murder charges—none of that did it, which is good, but he’s not entirely sure that Wayne won’t finally kick him to the curb for taking some poor guy’s wallet for a ride. Especially the guy who just saved his life, and who his uncle seems to have taken a liking to because of it.

“Son,” Wayne says, blunt as ever, “as soon as that boy is conscious again, you need to talk to him. You need to apologize.” There’s a long pause, and this is it, this is the part where Eddie is expecting to hear that next he should pack his bags— “And then tell him thank you.”

Another long pause.

“Is that all?” Eddie asks weakly, because he has to be sure.

Wayne nods. “That’s plenty. Want a pen and paper to plan it out like one’a your game campaigns?”

On some level, Eddie recognizes that his uncle is making fun of him. On another . . . yeah, he actually kind of does, just to scribble out the jumble of thoughts in his head, not only about Steve but about everything. On every possible level, his eyes well up.

The sleep he’d gotten since almost dying was, perversely, the best he’d had in months. Since before Wayne had gotten sick, all the way through to the end of the worst Spring Break in the history of the world.Eddie chokes out a laugh as the first tears begin to fall, a comforting old hand finding its way to his shoulder as he has a long, long overdue breakdown.

#steddie blackmail fic #steddie fic #steddie #stranger things fic #eddie munson #steve harrington #wayne munson #good uncle wayne

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runninriot · 6 months

Text

Ain't No Sin To Be Glad You're Alive

Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson | Found Family | Love | POV Wayne Munson | 1682 words

"Do you think they'll ever figure their shit out?" Hopper grumbles and takes another sip from his beer.

"Oh, I'm sure they will."

"Wish I had your patience. I'm always like, seconds away from bumping their heads together to make them stop their stupid dancing around each other."

Wayne smirks, turning his head to Hopper where the two men are seated on the porch overlooking the backyard. Jim, with a frown on his face, looks at Steve who's sitting on the grass, watching Eddie and Dustin run around like the maniacs they are. Steve’s eyes are drawn to the older boy, following his every move with a soft and longing gaze. The smile and light blush painting his face do nothing to hide the obvious.

Wayne and Jim have been waiting for ages now, for the boys to come forward. To accept and admit to the undeniable fact. They've been talking a lot, bonding over the mutual wish for their boys' happiness.

It's been weeks and they could barely keep themselves from turning their late-night scheming into action.

They've gotta do it in their own terms, Wayne always told Jim in the end. And no matter how frustrating it was to watch the painful pining and not to interfere - it was the right thing to do after all.

Because what Hopper doesn't know, is that this morning Wayne came back from his night shift and found Eddie and Steve sitting in the kitchen, holding hands over the table top. When they noticed Wayne, they didn't shy away, didn't let go, just kept looking at each other with literal stars in their eyes. And Wayne just sat down next to them, giving them an approving nod and a small smile before reaching for the pile of pancakes in the middle of the table, joining their conversation about anything and nothing at all.

Which, he has to admit to himself, is kind of a big deal.

He hadn’t been brought up to be open-minded like that, hadn’t been taught to be accepting of this kind of ungodly behaviour. And when he first found out that Eddie was – What’s the word again? Bisexual? – he sure struggled to come to terms with that. But soon enough he realised, that this could never change the way he cares for Eddie. That nothing in the world could ever get him to stop loving the boy that might not be his son, biologically, but certainly feels like his own. That it is easy to accept two boys being in love when all Wayne ever wanted was for Eddie to be happy and - there's no doubt about that - Steve is the one that makes him so.

Steve, who wouldn't leave his son's side after the world almost ended. Who cared for him. Who looks at him like he's the most precious thing on earth. Steve, who, despite his family’s name and all the baggage that comes with it, is one of the nicest young men Wayne’s ever got to meet. He is a good guy, someone who cares deeply for the wellbeing of his people.

Wayne likes him a lot.

Almost as much as that fierce little red head from across the street. The one that just appeared in his life with the rest of ‘em. A whole bunch of people Wayne dares to call family now, too. The younger kids that helped save his son. The older ones, that would do anything to fight for what’s right. The parents that came along with the mob of teens, like Jim who’s become his best friend over time. Or Joyce, Hop’s lady, who always insists on having them all over for dinner at least once a week. The Sinclairs, Claudia Henderson, Karen Wheeler and even Ted in his weird, grumpy way... he has them all to thank for keeping his spirits up during what had been the hardest time of his life. And for keeping his son alive, in more ways than one.

Eddie has never been more content, never seemed happier in his life. And sure, everyone involved in their weirdly mixed and matched family pack plays a part in that. But Wayne knows that it is Steve who makes Eddie wake up each day with a smile on his face. That he’s the reason Eddie pushed through physical therapy like a champ. Steve is the one reason for his son not to give up if the nightmares are getting worse again, chasing him from his sleep into the daylight. When the walls feel to close, his chest feels too tight, and the world spins too fast.

Steve is Eddie’s light in the darkness.

Wayne has never seen love like that, the kind that's sickening sweet. The one that makes their eyes light up with desire and devotion. The one that, even hidden behind a friendly bump of shoulders or hushed words spoken, is obvious for everyone who cares enough to see.

Their boys are in love and it's everything him and Hopper could ever want for them. And to see their bond forming quite literally under their roofs fills Wayne with pride and warmth. To be able to provide a safe space for love like that to bloom is a gift he won’t ever take for granted.

Hopper’s voice abruptly takes him out of his thoughts.

"Do you see how they look at each other?! I swear, if they haven't kissed by the end of the evening, I'm going to lose it."

Wayne brings his own bottle back to his lips, has to force himself not to laugh.

"I'm gonna remind you of that when they actually do and you're freaking out about it."

Jim acts offended, mumbles something under his moustache and empties his bottle.

Wayne stands up, turns, wants to grab Hop and himself another beer when Jim's eyes suddenly grow impossibly wide and he nearly drops the empty bottle handed to Wayne.

Wayne doesn't really need to look over his shoulder to know why Hopper's eyes look like they're about to fall out of his head but he does it anyway.

He sees Eddie, standing opposite Steve. His boy's arms tightly wrapped around the other's waist, Steve’s arms slung around Eddie’s neck, their faces mere inches apart. They are a little out of breath and laughing at something funny that must’ve occurred while he wasn’t looking.

And then it happens.

Time seems to stop when their giggling suddenly dies down and they just stare at each other for a moment. Wayne thinks he can hear electricity crackling in the air, can feel a warm summer breeze twirling around them. It's a beautiful evening, the setting summer sun painting the sky in dark orange and red. There's a bird singing its song somewhere in the distance.

The moment is perfect. Like, picture book perfect.

Wayne feels like an intruder when his boy finally leans in, connecting his lips with Steve's but he's too caught in the moment to look away.

They kiss and Wayne smiles, thanks a god he doesn’t really believe in anymore for this blessing.

Dustin squeals out a loud and distracting 'Hell yeah!'.

Hopper gasps, slaps a hand to his knee, and Wayne thinks he can hear him punch out a relieved 'Finally!' under his breath.

The back door creaks and when Wayne turns to Joyce standing in the frame he thinks he can see a tear glistening in her eye, knows it’s a happy one because she looks fondly at the sight in front of her.

Behind her, Jane and Will push their way through the door, curious as to what’s going on and Will-

Wayne can see it in his eyes. Can see it in the way he looks at the two older boys kissing, the way his whole face lights up and his shoulders drop; the way it seems like the weight of the world has just been taken off his body.

And again it makes his chest swell with pride to be part of a family like this. Where the people are kind and accepting. Where a boy like Will can grow up to become whatever he damn well pleases, without fear. With people to lean on and to look up to.

Where there is so much love to be found in the simplest things – a gentle hand on the shoulder, an affirmative smile, two gruff men spending their evenings plotting how to intervene in their kids’ affairs, a homemade apple pie delivered to your front door just because, a warm hug, shared memories of summer evenings spent together...

Two boys kissing. Unashamed. Unafraid. Alive.

Wayne takes a deep breath, the tranquil moment passes, and when Steve and Eddie part, everything goes back to normal like nothing has happened.

He looks at Eddie, sees him smiling back at him, mouthing a silent ‘Thank you’ in his direction.

‘No, thank YOU.’, Wayne mouths back, tapping his chest twice with his hand right above where his heart is overflowing with gratitude and love.

“Okay, old man. Guess it’s time to have the talk.” Jim’s hand lands heavy on his shoulder and when Wayne turns to look at him, he sees a familiar, mischievous glimmer in the other man’s eyes.

He’s been looking forward to the moment he could finally give Eddie his speech about not even daring to think about hurting Steve because ‘I know people. You know the kind of people I know. Better not fuck this up, Munson.’

Wayne already feels a little sorry for Eddie. But they all know that Hop is just a big ol’ teddy bear. Loves to make a lot of fuzz and noise but has actually a heart of gold.

And maybe Wayne will return the favour and remind Steve that he knows how to handle a gun. Just in case. Not that he has any doubt that Steve would rather cut off his own leg than to hurt Eddie in any way but-

If Hopper’s allowed some fun, then so is he.

For now though, he’ll just let the boys be happy.

#eddie munson #steve harrington #good uncle wayne #supportive jim hopper #steddie ficlet

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ayoooo3 · 10 months

Text

If you see this and want to write it… take it and run. Because I’ve got all the ideas and only 10% of the follow through. So it’s all yours if you want it.

**********

Cinderella retelling where Eddie’s parents are looking for a quick fix to all their problem and when they see that the King and Queen are throwing a ball to find the Prince a wife, they decide they really want their kid to marry the prince. With some quick thinking and a little elbow grease, they dress Eddie up and force him to the palace.

Eddie makes a run for it, ruins his dress (let’s be honest, there’s bats involved) and is sulking on the side of the road when his Good Uncle Wayne rolls in to do what he does best. He wraps Eddie up, reminds him that he’s deserves good things too and, oh by the way, Wayne knows exactly what prince Steve likes… and it’s more like Eddie then anyone in the kingdom ever realizes.

When Eddie arrives at the palace, Prince Steve never even stood a chance.

#steddie #stranger things #Prince Steve Harrington #Cinderella #Disney Princess Eddie Munson #good uncle Wayne #imagine #fanfic #take it and run #write the thing #not me though #but you can do it #fandom #ayoooo #we love a Disney moment

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maithefluffychicken · 2 years

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My retelling of Little Red Riding Hood feat. Werewolf Steve is complete at last! And with spicy art!

Beware of the tags, but i hope you like it!

#stranger things #werewolf au #werewolf steve harrington #eddie munson #good uncle wayne #strangers to lovers #little red riding hood #steddie #steddie fanfic #steddie fanart

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humanityinahandbag · 11 months

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Why yes it is the newest chapter of my Wayne Matchmaker story, thank you for asking

I hope you enjoy!

#Wayne wants a son in law SO BAD #and he will GET him #like a pokemon #he will catch you Harrington #and you WILL marry his boy #steddie #steddie fanfic #st fanfic #stranger things fanfic #good uncle wayne

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dwobbitfromtheshire · 7 months

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Just got this image in my mind that Eddie introduced Steve to Wayne as the guy who carried him out of hell. Wayne immediately saw him as the guy who could keep his boy safe, so he started inviting Steve over for dinner all the time. He didn't out Eddie, but he kind of started dropping hints about Eddie's availability. He brags about talented his nephew is to Steve, and when Steve reveals he doesn't know how to play the guitar, Wayne pushes Eddie to teach him. It goes on for a long time after that until one night, Eddie walks Steve out the door.

"Uh, is your uncle trying to set me up with you?" Steve asked.

"Yeah," Eddie said with a snort.

"Why doesn't he already know that we're dating?" Steve asked.

"I want to see how long I can keep this up for. I want to see if he breaks," Eddie snickers.

"BOY! I heard all that! You're not as quiet as you think you are!" Wayne hollered.

"Well, fuck."

#stranger things #stranger things s4 #eddie munson #joseph quinn #eddie stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson lives #steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steddie ficlet #wayne munson #uncle wayne #good ol' uncle wayne

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strangersteddierthings · 5 months

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Sequel to Good People - The fic in wherein Wayne doesn't like Steve and overheard a conversation he shouldn't have. Here's the aftermath of that :3

Part One🦇Part Two🦇Final Part

Wayne had stayed in his bedroom long after he heard the boys leave. Eddie had knocked on his door to let him know he'd be staying at Steve's and to not expect him back until late tomorrow, a courtesy he'd never shown until after he'd been the victim of a manhunt back in spring. Wayne never asked him to do that but he thinks Eddie picked up on how worried Wayne would get if he were gone for any amount of time.

Eddie's always been good at reading people when he bothers to pay attention to them. Maybe that should have been enough reason for him to give pause to his dislike of the Harrington boy, instead of needing to overhear the boy crying about how he thinks there's something rotten deep within him that only Wayne can sense.

He'd been so sure he knew what kind of person Steve Harrington was. Eddie had been hung up on boys just like him pert-near his whole life, Wayne thinks, and it's never ended differently.

It's a Tuesday night and his friends usually gather at the bar on Friday nights, but Wayne needs to get out of the trailer to think. A beer might help. So, he grabs his keys and heads out.

He's been a regular at this bar since before he was even old enough to drink. Used to come with his pa, may he rest in peace, just to get out of the house. He's been a patron longer than any of the staff have worked there, he realizes.

"Hello Linda," Wayne greets as he takes a seat at the bar instead of at his usual table. He'd done a cursory glace when he came in and confirmed none of his drinking buddies were in before choosing the bar.

"This isn't your usual day," Linda says, leaning a hip on the counter, "but it's always a pleasure to see you."

"I got some thinkin' to do," Wayne replies and Linda nods and moves away, returning soon with a bottle of his usual beer. She picks up the bottle open and removes the cap before setting the drink down in front of him.

"Need a sounding board, hun?" She asks.

Wayne does a quick survey of the bar again but it's pretty quiet so he returns his gave to Linda and says, "if you wouldn't mind too much hearin' about how an old man might have messed up."

Linda laughs. "You aren't even half a decade older than me, so you best not be sprouting that 'old man' nonsense around me, 'cause I am not some old lady."

"Terribly sorry, Linda. I'm just really feelin' like an old fool."

A small frown comes to Linda's face then. "Now what could you have possibly done?"

"Well, I guess I'm tryin' to figure out if I did mess up. Eddie's got a friend and I don't trust 'im. Thought I had good reason not to, but, well, I overheard somethin' I wasn't supposed ta and now I'm not sure."

Linda hums, "hmm, that doesn't sound like you, judging someone unrightly. You are usually a good read about people."

"I'll admit, I haven't bothered to spend enough time with the boy to, uhh, judge him."

"Wayne Munson," Linda scolds, "you best not be telling me you judged that boy because of other people."

Judging by Linda's raising brow line, he thinks his guilt must be clear on his face. "You know Eddie, and how people have treated him. And with what he just went through- I just want 'im safe. Sure, his new friend graduated last year, but he was on the basketball team his whole career. And I'm jus' supposed ta believe this one boy didn't side with the group who started the manhunt?"

"Unless you've got evidence otherwise, yes," Linda says, brows furrowed.

Wayne sighs. "I ain't got proof. I got a lot of people sayin' he's good, actually. But it's the Harrington boy. The same boy Eddie would come home and complain 'bout. Harrington, Hagan, Hargrove, though I shouldn't speak ill of the dead. All them boys treatin' Eddie like he wasn't worth nothin' until they wanted somethin' form him."

Linda's mouth is almost a perfectly straight line with how much she's pursed her lips the more he talks, but she doesn't interrupt and no customer calls for her, so he continues.

"And you know what Richard Harrington was like. I know y'all only shared one school year together, but Janice wasn't any better, and she was your year, wasn't she?" Linda gives him one nod in response. "That boy's a product of them. I- You can't fault me for thinkin' differently."

"So, when do you expect Eddie to end up in prison?"

The question throws Wayne and fills him with anger at the same time. "Now, Linda, I ain't likin' what you are implyin'."

"I ain't implyin' nothing," she says, using the same tone with him that he did with her. "I'm applying your logic. Eddie's a product of his parents, ain't he? Al's in prison, and his mama's long gone, bless her soul. And since Eddie ain't sick, last I heard, he must be following after his daddy."

The anger leaves him then, and all he's left with is shame. "Point made. And if I'm bein' fully honest with ya, I don't even need ya to defend that boy. That thing I overheard. That what's eatin' at me. He called me good people."

Linda softens, shoulders dropping, "you are good people, hun."

"That boy told my Eddie that I'm 'good people', and that his parents are bad ones, and I. I don't know what to do about that."

"He thinks his own parents are bad?"

Wayne nods, "is what he said. Thinks I can somehow sense he's also rotten just by association."

"There's nothing to it, then," Linda says, like they've already talked out the tangled mess that is Wayne's thoughts on Steve Harrington and have reached a conclusion. Well, perhaps Linda already has. She's always been bright, and she's usually right. "You, Wayne Robert Munson, need to apologize to that boy. The guilt and shame's gonna put you into your cups otherwise."

Wayne nods slowly, though he isn't even sure if he agrees or is just acknowledging what she said before he takes a long pull from his bottle before lowering both his arms to rest on the counter as he replies, "You're right as usual, Linda my dear. I just gotta let go of the fact he's Richard Harrington's son and try and see just Steve."

"Damn right. Eddie might be Al's by birth, but you raised him and he turned out alright. Maybe Steve got the same treatment. Had his own Wayne around to raise him right."

There might be a bit of truth to that. He's heard enough talk about Steve Harrington over the years to think that. One of his drinking buddies used to be Jim Hopper. He's heard about the amount of parties he'd had to go shut down at the Harrington's house, with no parents to be seen. (Always Jim's biggest gripe back then. "Where's this kids goddamn parents!?) Wayne always assumed their kid just took advantage every time his parents were gone, but maybe it's the opposite. Maybe they were always gone, and Steve had parties to not be alone in his house.

Linda's right. There is nothing to it. He needs to talk to Steve, properly apologize, and go from there.

"It ain't an easy thing, admittin' you might be wrong," Wayne sighs.

Linda reaches across the counter and places a hand on Wayne's arm just below his wrist. Wayne looks up from where he'd ended up staring at his bottle, making eye contact with her. "If your boy is friends with this boy, it's for a reason. Just give him a chance. You are one of the good ones, but even we can have a lapse in judgment now and then. Doesn't make you bad, makes you human."

"Ain't no one perfect but the good Lord," Wayne says and Linda nods in agreement.

"Alright. I'll leave you to your beer and your thoughts for now, but you best keep me updated on your situation. I wanna know how it goes," Linda retracts her hand and heads down the counter to check on the few other people sitting about nursing drinks.

Wayne sits in his thoughts more than he drinks, so by the time he's done with the beer it's warm but that's fine. He will talk to the Harrington kid, but he wants to talk to Eddie first. He owes his nephew that much, and he does recall Eddie saying something to the effect of 'he'll come around' to Steve, and Wayne wants to tell Eddie he'll try.

Also he doesn't want to just corner the boy after he's been somewhat intimidating intentionally. He's going to get Eddie to ask if Steve'll talk to him.

True to his word, Eddie returns home late the next day. The clock says it's almost 6 when Eddie finally comes through the front door. If he's surprised to see Wayne awake, he doesn't show it. He does work the graveyard shift, and he's got a shift at 10 tonight, usually wakes up two hours before his shift. He'd wanted to make sure he caught Eddie, though, so he's been up since three.

"Eddie, you got a minute?" Wayne says.

"Sure. What's up?" Eddie says as he pulls off his jacket, depositing it on the nearest surface before plopping sideways on the couch so he's facing Wayne.

"I gotta come clean. I overheard some of what you and Steve were talkin' about," Wayne says, because he's a man of his word and he's always been good at doing the hard thing if it also turns out to be the right thing. He's got to be honest with Eddie, so he can be honest with himself. "Heard Harr- Steve talkin' 'bout how he thinks I'm a good person, and his parents aren't."

Eddie's quiet for a moment, blinking owlishly back at him while he thinks. "Oh. Umm. Sorry. I just- I think this is the first time I've heard you say Steve's name."

"Not the part I thought you'd focus on," Wayne huffs a laugh, "but I owe your boy an apology and I was hopin' you could help me make it happen."

"My boy- what is happening," Eddie drops his voice to whisper the question to himself.

"What's happening is I'm doin' the thing I always told you ta do. Taking accountability and fixin' my mistake."

"Oh. Oh!" Eddie narrows his eyes at Wayne, "you've made an ass out of me. All those times I assured Steve you were just being standoffish and you were- what were you doing?"

"Intentionally keepin' the boy at a distance 'cause I thought he was gonna hurt you. I sure as hell ain't been friendly. I been judging him because I knew his parents, thinkin' about how an apple don't fall far from the tree," Wayne stops, giving pause to see if Eddie will speak but he isn't. He's just staring at Wayne like he's a puzzle. "It was brought to my attention that it's mighty unfair to judge someone 'cause of how their parents act."

Eddie's brow furrows and his lips purse. It makes him think of Linda. She'd made the exact same face. "I- Jesus fuck this is weird, but I. I think I'm mad at you. Disappointed."

Eddie doesn't say it with an angry tone, and his face still looks more puzzled than mad, but the sentence feels like a kick to the chest anyway. Eddie and he have never been mad at each other, not in the eight years Eddie's lived here with him. They've been worried and scared for each other that, or mad at someone or something else that they take out on each other, but never mad at each other.

"You've every right to be."

Eddie stands from the couch, paces down the hallway, and Wayne thinks this might be the end of any conversation tonight, but instead Eddie comes storming back up the hall. "So, what, did you take me in expecting me to be my dad!?"

"No. He mighta contributed to your birth, but we both know that man ain't nurtured you a day in his life."

"Yeah, well, Steve's parents didn't raise him either, so all this has been bullshit! You made Steve think he's, he's broken and a bad person! And," Eddie's eyes are wet and he's angry but also about to cry. Wayne hasn't seen him like this in a long time. Not since the day they learned Al was in prison, fifteen years with a chance for parole if he's on his best behavior. Eddie had been so angry, and sad, and hurt by the news. Eddie's like that now, worked up so much he's repeating himself as he hiccups his words out around the lump in this throat, "And, and you made me help him feel that way! Because I didn't take him serious when he said, said you didn't like him! I thought you were being, being a dad, all fake gruff to intimidate the guy I like but it's- you were- FUCK!"

Wayne lets him yell. He deserves it, and Eddie needs it. Eddie's not saying anything untrue. He takes in what Eddie is yelling at him; Steve's parents didn't raise him, and how Wayne's cold shoulder must have added to whatever else Steve has going on in his life.

"I, I h-held him while he b-bawled into my shirt last night! He, he thinks- and you, you didn't even trust me! T-trust my own j-judgment of, of Steve! I, I need- I can't-" Eddie doesn't finish the sentence. He turns on his heel and storms back down the hall, the slamming of his door finalizing this conversation.

To say that Wayne feels terrible is inadequate. He's hurt his boy, and he's hurt his boy's boy, and he's got no one to blame but himself.

Now he's got two apologies to make.

I tried to tag as many people as I could remember that expressed interest in a follow up fic. I am SO sorry if I missed you. Please let me know if you want to be tagged in the final part. I will only be tagging people who ask to be tagged going forward 'cause it's a lot of people to remember and my memory is garbage.

@i-less-than-three-you @nburkhardt @afewproblems @skepsiss @unclewaynemunson @itsthestrangestthings @emofratboy @devondespresso @finntheehumaneater @loopholesinmydreams @yourmom-isgay @wrenisflying @emsgoodthinkin @messrs-weasley @madigoround @jackiemonroe5512 @gutterflower77 @zerokrox-blog @eriquin @samyuck @lunarmaruna @mugloversonly @kaij-basil-lionelli88

#steddie #my fic #wayne pov #wayne munson #eddie munson #honestly this didnt go the way i thought it would #so there will be a third and final part. Wayne's gonna make it right because he's a good uncle. A good dad.#SPOILER: steve doesnt even show up in this part so im not tagging him

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