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#he is soft and an idiot
starwarjotta · 6 months
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Day 3 - cloak thankfully Obi-Wan's robe cloak is big enough to wrap around a certain Commander who might've been tossed into the freezing river during a mission oh and when there's a chance to make something even more Codywan? ofc I'll do it, here's a bonus
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it was a long mission, okay
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meru90 · 10 months
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hc that haitham was a lil blushy mess😣and then 🗿🗿
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ohno-the-sun · 2 months
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Sol
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beanghostprincess · 5 months
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HAVE YOU SEEN HIM?
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he's not lost (he probably is, tho) but now you have seen him 💚
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hobbyistauthor · 18 days
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7 ▰▱▰▱ Take Me Home (Please Stay With Me) ▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱
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"came back wrong" post-s4 fanfiction, featuring monster kas!eddie. pre-steddie -> steddie
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minors DNI please, Steve has some S P I C Y thoughts, although nothing too explicit yet.
Part I┊Part II┊Part III┊Part IV┊Part V┊Part VI┊Part VII(📍)┊Part VIII
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Steve can’t breathe. He- He’s half-convinced he’s stuck in some sort of extremely vivid fever dream, because by god if that isn’t the voice he’s been longing to hear since it was lost to him, living only in memories already starting to fade. It’s quiet and slurred, hot breath ghosting by the shell of his ear and raising goosebumps across his skin. His hands clench hard into the meat of Eds’ thighs where they splay wide across his own, and fuck, he’s gifted with another gasp of his name–slurred out around too-large teeth and panting, heated breaths. 
“...TheEve!”
Shit, but he’s never wanted to lick the echo of his own name out of someone else’s mouth like this. It sounds so incredible coming from the gorgeous creature in his arms, breathy and pitchy and needy–he’s never heard Eddie like this before, never thought he would. The music from his mouth is the sweetest symphony he’s ever had the pleasure of hearing and hell, he’ll put it on a tape and call it his Vecna song in a heartbeat; play it on repeat until the tape unravels and falls to pieces. Being able to hear him like this is something out of his darkest fantasies–the ones he pretends he doesn’t have in the light of day, only allowing himself to dive into the depraved imaginings in the dark of night when he’s safely wrapped in the sanctity of his own sheets and the privacy of his own mind, taking himself in hand with guilty desperation. 
Forcing a deep breath, he manages to wrangle his incredibly inappropriate thoughts down and away–now is not the time, not with Dustin sitting right there and urgh, goddamnit, watching them with those obnoxious all-seeing eyes of his. Steve shoots him a look and jerks his head towards the kitchen, trying to get his brother-in-all-but-blood to give them a minute Jesus Christ kid–to which Dustin gets the memo, heading into the kitchen where Steve knows he’ll help himself to the snacks. Of course, being Dustin, he has to be the most dramatic shithead in the world about it, rolling his eyes so hard Steve’s half convinced he’s gonna roll his own head off his shoulders right along with them.  
Once they’re alone in the living room, Steve relaxes his grip on Eds’ thighs, rubbing gentle circles with his thumbs as an apology. The keening whine that escapes the body on his lap is pitchy and soft, and Eds presses his face harder against Steve’s shoulder, burying his nose in Steve’s neck. It’s… cute, the way he’s clinging so tightly despite being so much larger than Steve is. Like a big dog thinking it can be a lapdog, unaware of its own size and simply wanting to be close to its beloved owners like it used to do as a puppy. Steve allows one of his hands to trail up from his sweet boy’s thigh to thread through the strands of his hair-fur, petting gently and soothing the trembles that have started back up again. He’d not expected such a- a profound reaction to his blood, but they’re in uncharted waters here, so Steve supposes anything is possible.
His musings come to a halt when he realizes something is off. He can feel the way his brows pull together as he considers the weight of his monster in his lap, the trembling form in his arms. A long whine drags its way out of Eds’ throat again, reedy and laced with something that he’s not sure he can put his finger on. It almost sounds like he’s in pain, but there’s a layer there in the polyphonic tones that’s heady, making him think of anything other than pain. It’s unhelpful, so he turns his consideration elsewhere. He focuses on the feeling of Eds’ breath coming fast and hot against his neck, dampening the collar of his t-shirt. Strong forearms dipped in inky-blackness tapering down to massive, trembling hands carefully grasping his biceps, ever-conscious of his sharp talons. The plush softness of his lips where they quiver in tiny, wet brushes along his skin. The hard line of his nose where it digs into the soft spot where his traps meet the tendons of his throat—
—wait. That’s- That’s not right. Steve stares into middle distance, blinking as his mind whirls into overtime well beyond the final buzzer. Eddie-monster has that cute smushed nose–the bat-like one–leaf-shaped or whatever. He’s had his face in Steve’s neck so many times over the past several days he knows what it feels like, and it’s never felt hard and bony, never dug in like this. Steve resists the sudden urge to simply fist his hand in the dark mass of curls and just yank his monster’s head back to get a look at his face, because ha! Like that would go over well, most people don’t actually enjoy being dragged around by their hair, Steve, what the fuck. Instead, he slowly brings his other hand up from where it’s remained on his monster’s other thigh, stroking the hair-fur alongside his hidden face so as not to spook him. The quiet crooning whine he receives for the attention he pays makes him smile, a crooked little thing he can feel pulling at his lips, but he has a mission. Carefully, he draws his hand away from the curls and traces down along his monster’s jawline, barely managing to avoid startling at what he feels beneath his fingertips. He bites his lip, forcing himself to breathe normally even as his heart betrays him, picking up speed beneath his ribs.
It’s smooth and angular, sharp like he’s not seen on his monster’s face, not since a time when he’d simply been Eddie Munson, King Freak and super-super senior; the greatest DM this side of Indianapolis, according to the kids. Steve’s heart is galloping in his chest now, because- because this is beyond his expectations. He’d thought maybe they’d get some slight change, something from the blood exchange if Dustin was right, but- but this is so much more. Maybe he really doesn’t need that much blood then, if it only took a single feeding? But no–Steve pauses his racing thoughts, he can’t get ahead of himself. Eds’ body still looks the same. The wings are still there, he’s still got his talons, his tail. His skin is still gray and his limbs continue to look like he’s dunked them in a vat of black ink. Suddenly bold, he drags his curious hand up from Eddie’s jaw to his lips.
It sends a bolt of heat through him when he feels the way his monster’s mouth quivers at the first touch of his fingers, the way wet, plush lips part easily for his questing fingers. He forces his hips to remain still, not wanting to startle or disturb the trembling sweetheart on his lap by drawing attention to the chub he’s sporting in his gray sweats. The fangs are still there, still large and protruding, but the way his lips curve around them feels sensual in a way it didn’t before. Steve desperately needs to see his face. God does he want to know if he’s as gorgeous as he remembers–if he’s still got some more of his monstrous features, how they’re meshing with his human ones. He remembers the proud jut of Eddie’s nose, the strong line it made on his face. He wants to see it again so badly, to know what it looks like when framed by fangs. And- And his eyes. What… What do his eyes look like? 
Steve loves his monster’s eyes. The rich, hickory color that sparkles and glows with so much feeling is absolutely gorgeous. He loves how big they are, how emotive. Eddie had really pretty eyes as a human, too. Steve remembers being a bit caught off guard the first time he’d well-and-truly locked gazes with the slightly older man, getting trapped in those eyes that made him think of molten chocolate, of the richest dark earth after the rain. It had made his breath stutter in his lungs even back then, all the way in Sophomore year, but he’d been too cowardly to do anything about it–too caught up in the whole dog-and-pony show of high school hierarchy bullshit, too afraid to admit he might be one of those queers the guys spat on in the locker rooms–and pushed it to the back of his mind. He’d further forgotten about his breathtaking Bambi eyes after meeting Nancy, but being pinned in the boathouse had brought it all roaring back. Right guy, wrong time, he supposes. Of course he had to have those long forgotten feelings dragged out of the dark recesses of his mind out into the daylight during the end of the fucking world, when there were more important things to be focused on, like not dying… and of course, he’d gone and done that, too. 
But now he’s here, in Steve’s lap. In Steve’s arms, saying Steve’s name like a prayer; like a plea, and god but he is a weak weak man. He brings his other hand out of the soft curls of his monster’s hair-fur, inching his fingers between Eds’ cheek and his own skin, cupping gently and slowly bringing his head back away from where it’s buried against his neck. He can feel the way his own pulse is rabbiting in his chest, can feel the way his monster is quivering beneath his palms as acutely as his own trembling heartbeat. He swallows, suddenly nervous. He’s got an idea of what he might see when he finally catches a glimpse of his monster’s face, but–there’s so much that’s unknown. He doubts he could possibly be disappointed with any sort of transformation that’s taken hold of his little riot, but he’s going to make sure nothing shows on his face that could make him think otherwise. It’s clear he’s sensitive, and whether that’s just Eddie or the animal part of him, he doesn’t know, but- but maybe if he can talk again—
—Eds lifts his head from where it was turned down and away from Steve, his curls that were curtaining his face from view falling into place like magic as he finally turns his gaze to Steve.
Fuck. He’s so gorgeous.
His face is human-shaped, with the same curves and angles Steve started to memorize during Spring Break–before his death. Steve feels like he’s been hit over the head by a two-by-four with the amount of want and awe that sweeps through him. It’s so clear his sweetheart is nervous, that he’s shy. His hands twitch where they’re gripping the sleeves of Steve’s shirt, like they want to reach up and pull the curls back in front of his face to hide behind. There’s a dusting of the prettiest pink across his cheeks, across the bridge of his nose that’s so delicate Steve can only think of soft flower petals fluttering in a gentle breeze. His eyes are still inhuman, huge and wide, but they’re slightly more proportional to the rest of his features, expressive as ever and sparkling even as he cannot meet Steve’s own gaze for long. His mouth is slightly too wide, plush lips pouting out over the curves of protruding fangs that–while still over-large and bulky–seem slightly smaller, more suited to the recovered size and shape of his jaw. Steve can’t help himself, reaching up to push some of those soft, dark curls away from his sweetheart’s face. 
The tender touch makes that pretty pink blush that decorates Eds’ cheeks deepen, an embarrassed-sounding croon escaping him. Steve watches those lips part–still shiny slick and smeared with remnants of Steve’s blood–dark eyes sliding shut as he involuntarily leans into Steve’s touch with a quiet mewling sound. Eddie’s skin is cool and soft beneath his palm, warm only where the skin flushes with color. He lets his thumb press down to stroke delicate circles against the arc of Eds’ cheekbone, watching as he leans into the touch like he’s starved for it. Steve can’t tear his eyes away; Eddie is a vision in his lap and Steve’s hopelessly caught in his spell. He’s half afraid he’s going to wake up, that this will end up all an elaborate, vivid dream because having this? He’d not thought it would be possible.
“Eds,” he whispers, unable to keep the awe from his voice, “look at you, sweet thing.”
With the way Steve’s touching him, he feels the shiver that rocks through Eddie’s body even before he sees it. He watches as goosebumps raise on bare arms, listens as a soft whine escapes from a trembling chest. He cups his other hand around Eddie’s other cheek, pulling down so he can press his forehead against his sweetheart’s. He feels elated laughter burbling in his chest and he doesn't even bother trying to stop it from spilling out uncontrollably. He can feel the tears when they come, rolling heavy down his face and turning his laughter into gasping sobs. He’s so overwhelmed; he’s completely overcome by all his relief, his joy, his love colliding with the imploding force of a dying star. His eyes squeeze shut, lashes soaked with salty tears and heavy with the weight of all his emotions. Eds makes a quiet noise, and the brush of his nose against Steve’s own makes the breath stutter in his chest.
“TheEeve?” 
The sound of Eddie’s actual voice is still warbling, tonal and distorted, but the quiet register and the way his breath gusts gently along Steve’s cheeks makes him tremble. God, but this is a gift; Steve doesn’t know what to do with it, he’s just feeling so much. He wants to wrap himself in the sound of Eddie’s words, words he never thought he’d be able to hear from him again outside of memories that would inevitably fade with time, or fantasies dredged up by his desperate mind.
“...TheEve okaAy?”
He opens his eyes, blinking wetly as he meets the concerned gaze of his sweetheart, charmed endlessly by the clearly involuntary crooning noises he’s making. Steve laughs, cracked and fragile as he pulls away just enough to press a shaking kiss to Eddie’s forehead. The surprised sound it punches out of Eds’ chest and the deepening of his flush delights Steve, and he feels his expression softening. Wearing his heart on his sleeve, he allows himself to simply bask in the moment, smiling warmly at the impossible creature in his lap.
“Yeah, Eds. I’m just having a lot of–um, a lot of feelings and they’re a bit much…”
He looks so human with the way his brow furrows, an oh-so-familiar expression of concern taking over his face (god, he’s missed the way his nose crinkles like that–he hadn’t even realized he’d noticed until just now but ohhh, is it adorable) as he leans back into Steve’s space. A subtle vibration passes through his chest into Steve’s, the resonance familiar and comforting. Fondness sweeps through Steve, and he knows he’s got to have the sappiest expression on his face as Eddie continues to charm him without even trying. It’s stupid how gone he is on this boy.
“I… fix..?”
Jesus H. Christ, Steve wants to kiss him so badly it’s ridiculous. Casual intimacy is fine, but… Eddie’s not his boyfriend, he’s not even all the way present yet, cognitively speaking. Steve needs to restrain himself, otherwise he could very easily be taking advantage of him when he’s not fully able to understand what Steve really, truly wants from him… what will fix the hole in his heart. He’s also not delusional enough to think he’ll be one of the lucky ones to reach such a perfect happy ending, and that’s okay. Just being able to hold Eddie like this, to be permitted to touch him, to press chaste kisses to his forehead for now is… it’s fine, it’s great, even. Steve will always want more, will want everything, but he knows that most people in Hawkins aren’t like him–straight folks dominate the population as far as he's aware. He’s in the minority, queer as he is, and that’s just something he’s had to come to terms with. He’s in good company with Robin–and Will, although that’s kind of an unspoken secret, considering the kid hasn’t come out and said anything, but it’s pretty obvious now that Steve knows what to look for. 
“No, Eds,” Steve says, shaking his head with a bittersweet smile, “it’s not something that you can fix, sweetheart.”
Eddie huffs, an irritated sub-vocal grumble rattling around in his throat, his wide eyes narrowing as he scans his gaze across Steve’s face. His cheeks puff slightly in the most adorable petulant expression Steve has ever seen on him before in his life, and it takes all his willpower to not pull the little brat in by his hair and kiss him breathless.
“Di- DithagrEe… waAnt to help TheEve, want to fix!” he grumbles again, an irritated sound tumbling from his throat as he seems to struggle finding his words. “Want to make hAppy. No thaAd. Tharthz thparkle, TheEve not thparkling. Wrong. I fix.”
His voice is raspy and soft still, shaky with disuse. Eddie’s words are lisped around the over-large fangs that protrude from between his lips, encumbering his pronunciation but every word that he verbalizes carries a profound weight; an intent that Steve can feel hanging heavy in the air between them like a promise, like an oath. It’s clear that he means what he says, which fills Steve’s chest with feelings he doesn’t know what to do with, because it… it feels a lot like devotion, like commitment, and he knows he’s got to be reading into it too much. He’s plastering his hopes and wants over Eddie, not taking his words at face value and looking for deeper meaning when there is none. Eddie’s just grateful, he tells himself, that’s all. It tastes bitter, but he’s no stranger to swallowing that type of pill.
“Eds, there’s nothing to fix, sweetheart. I promise.”
“But…” the darling creature in his lap whines, bumping his forehead against Steve’s and rubbing their cheeks together with a sad-sounding croon, “TheEve thmellth thad thtill…”
He barks out a laugh. “How can I be sad when you’re talking to me, Eds?” 
The question is rhetorical, because hell, it’s the truth. How can Steve possibly be sad when here he is, actually talking to Eddie? He’d never thought he’d get the chance to do this again, and although it’s stilted right now, it’s something–it’s more than he thought he’d ever have.
“I’d resigned myself to never getting the chance to just talk to you again, Eds,” he confesses, gently twining his fingers loosely through some of his sweet creature’s curls as his eyes go distant with memories, a melancholic smile pulling at his lips.
“We never got the chance to really, like, hang out before everything imploded, y’know? I- I- That bothered me, in the aftermath. Dustin was–is, really–so insistent that we would get along, that we would be friends if I would only try to get to know you, give it a chance. But, I didn’t and then it was too late. I resented it–resented myself, ‘cause I let my stupid jealousy cloud my judgment of you instead of actually trying to just, actually get to know you as you are.”
He sighs, tugging gently on a lock of hair-fur between his fingers, gaze fixed on the way Eddie’s face goes slack, hickory eyes glazed with something before he manages to snap himself out of it, refocusing his huge eyes on Steve’s face searchingly.
“I’m… overwhelmed because I have a chance to actually do that with you now. I get a chance to know you, to- to learn who you are, Eddie Munson, because you’re important to the kids, to- to me. You’re kinda’ stuck with me–with us–now, comes with the whole apocalypse package and there’s no refunds, sorry.”
Steve can feel the lopsided smile as it overtakes his lips, hoping it’s crookedly charming and not pathetic-looking and pining. The delighted chirp that comes out of the creature on his lap seems to confirm his hopes–thank god–because Eddie wiggles where he sits across Steve’s thighs, darting in close to nuzzle at Steve’s throat again. It’s a shock to feel the sharpness of a human nose against his skin, but Steve marvels at the bolt of affection that rushes through him, molten desire hot on its heels. Knowing Eds is regaining his more human appearance and his human cognizance only makes resisting even harder but he manages to quell the urges to ravish the gorgeous specimen writhing about on his lap–he won’t overstep, he won’t tread on this tentative first step into something he hopes will be a lifelong friendship before it has the chance to even sprout. Battle-worn trust and trauma bonds can form a foundation, but it’ll take work and consistent proof that Steve is worth keeping around to cultivate whatever seeds may have been sown.
And god, does he want them to take root. He doesn’t even care how they sprout, how they bloom. He just wants Eddie in his life, in whatever capacity Eddie will have Steve. He wouldn’t be able to handle it if he left at this point, and he’s adult enough to admit it. Maybe it’s some flavor of codependency, but Steve’s not well-versed enough in the whole psychology shit to really tell one way or another, so he doesn’t particularly care if it’s necessarily healthy or not. Eddie pulls back from his neck, chirruping and swaying, before bumping his forehead against Steve’s. It’s really cute, and it’s certainly not helping the way his hopeless heart is crying out for the endlessly charming asshole. He wants to be annoyed, but he can’t find it in him to muster up the effort, he’s too soft for Eddie.
“TheEve… want! Want tOo!” Eds warbles, his brow furrowed as he focuses on pronouncing the words.
“You want? Want… want what?” 
“TheEve important,” he says slowly, pulling back to stare deeply into Steve’s eyes. That heavy weight is back in his words, that oath-like sincerity that raises goosebumps along his arms. “Want to learn TheEve.”
Steve rears back, blinking rapidly as he feels the heat flood his face. He hates blushing because it’s so obvious on him, spreading fast and bright across his face and down his neck, even reaching the tips of his ears. He’s grateful he’s wearing a shirt at least, because his blushes run all the way down to his chest, blotchy and red, and oh fuck now he’s thinking about being shirtless with Eddie goddamnit nope we’re not doing that right now–
“Uh, you- you want to learn me too?” he tries to keep the hope from his voice, the desperate need to be worth knowing by someone as wonderful as the magnificent being in his lap. He fights the urge to wrap his hands around Eddie’s waist, somehow still so lean despite how much larger he is in scale. Something about this waist has always driven Steve to distraction, ever since he realized how slender Eddie was under all his layers–
Eddie nods his head, curls bouncing as he coos earnestly, the charming display effectively distracting Steve from his less-than-PG thoughts, “TheEve right, tho I learn TheEve too. Learn Thtarth, for coUrtthip.”
Steve’s not quite sure what the last part of his fervently stated declaration means, but he assumes it’s tied up in the whole… animal hindbrain bits still rattling around in Eddie’s awareness. It’s a relief, though, to know that there’s some reciprocity in their feelings between the two of them. It may not be exactly the same, but that it’s there is… it’s good enough. He’d hoped that all the affection they’d been so freely able to share wouldn’t vanish when Eds gained back some of his human cognizance, and so far it seems he’s going to be able to keep it. He’s being selfish–greedy, he knows–but every scrap of affection he can get, he’ll accept with gratitude. He’s a fool, but at least he’s a fool who’s aware that he’s more than halfway in love with someone who’s galaxies out of his league. He’s under no delusions about his chances, especially not with the bombs Wayne dropped about Eddie and girls… even if the “best friend” comment gave him a flicker of hope. Better to not fan those flames any further–if the rumors are true, then it will be a magnificent thing, but based on evidence from the person closest to Eddie himself, it’s seeming like Steve’s gone and started falling head over heels for a straight boy. 
It will take some time to climb his way out of the wide, deep hole he’s dug for himself, with these feelings he’s developed for a straight guy, but all things considered Steve doesn’t regret it. Eddie may not technically be the first guy he’s had feelings for, but he’s the first guy he’s had feelings for that he’s wanted to act on, and that’s a whole new exciting experience he can add to the collection of wild events that make up his life. And he’s certainly not going to distance himself from Eddie, even if his feelings are strong. He’d rather cope with his pining feelings and know nothing will come of them than not see him at all–not being able to see Eds makes his breath catch in a panicky way, brings him back to a time where he’d thought Eddie was dead, his corpse cold and rotting alone and abandoned in the Upside Down. Honestly, nothing sounds worse than not being able to see him. That’s never going to happen, no matter how badly his heart aches.
“Well, looks like we’ll both get that chance then, Eds.” Steve leans his forehead against Eddie’s gently cupping his cheek with his hand to feel just a little closer. The contented purr that rumbles out of his sweetheart’s throat and through Steve’s arm makes him smile.
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“Are you two done being gross now?”
Steve groans, dropping his head back in exasperation before he rolls his neck to shoot a flat glare at the kid he’s somehow adopted as a brother standing in the doorway. It seems Eddie’s done the same, hunching his shoulders towards Steve and squinting in an annoyed manner in Dustin’s direction, his ears having flattened back as he hisses quietly.
“Seriously, Dustin? That’s what you’re going to say right now? He’s talking again and you’re focused on us being gross?” Steve scoffs, “Uh, also, how the hell are we being gross, exactly?”
Dustin makes a face–the dramatic little shit–and fake gags. “Dude, are you for real? I wanted you two to get along but this is a little more than getting along, man. Eddie’s sitting in your lap!”
Steve blinks slowly. 
“So?”
Dustin flails his arms, “So? So?! Steve! This is some- some dating shit!”
“Language.”
“Ohmygod.”
“DaAting..?” Eds’ warbling voice asks, his ears having perked up vertically again, “Like coUrtthip?”
Dustin rears back, “Whoa! You’ve got polyphonics! That’s so cool! Do you think that’s because your vocal cords aren’t fully adjusted? Or is it just from disuse? Oh! Maybe it’s like you’ve got two sets right now, and you’re halfway between them! That would explain the dual tone, and the warped notes and I bet more blood would speed up the process—”
“Dustin. Breathe, man.”
Dustin inhales sharply, a surprised expression crossing his face, “Oh, shit, thanks. Guess I got kinda’ caught up again, sorry.”
“Hey, don’t apologize for that, Dust. You’re just passionate, nothing wrong with that.”
Eddie makes a crooning sound of agreement from his perch on Steve’s lap, squirming slightly as he shoots Dustin a soft, affectionate look. Steve feels himself warm from the inside, full to bursting with so much love for their tiny little family they’ve somehow managed to build in such a short time. He’ll never stop being grateful that Eddie seems to have imprinted on Dustin as much as Steve has, that he’s just as protective if not in a slightly different way. Watching him interact with Dustin in that field before the final battle–he’d thought it jealousy at first, but no that wasn’t it–had filled his stomach with a writhing mass of emotion, and now he can identify it as the longing he knows it to be. He wants Eddie, both to be his and for him to be there with him for Dustin. It’s not jealousy he feels any longer looking between the two of them, watching them together. It’s a sense of rightness, of peace that settles in his bones that everything is exactly as it should be. 
“But seriously, you have to know how this,” Dustin makes another face, gesturing to all of Steve and Eddie where he remains perched across Steve’s thighs, “looks? Like. I’m not trying to be an asshole about it, but. This is pretty queer, man.”
“Dustin!”
“What!? It’s the truth! I don’t care if you- if you do like guys or- or if you and Eddie are- are dating or whatever! That’s- That’s fine! That’s great!”
“Dustin!!” Steve snaps again, cursing the blotchy flush that keeps getting darker the more the kid keeps rambling, “you sound like Robin! I get it! You’re great, you’re super supportive and not homophobic at all! Awesome! Only thing is, Eds and I aren’t dating!”
Dustin closes his mouth with an audible click, squinting suspiciously at Steve. Steve rolls his eyes, groaning.
“We aren’t, Dustin! I swear! I think I would know if we were dating! I told you, he’s been very affectionate and attached to me since he recognized me in the Upside Down, but that’s all.” Even if he wants to date Eds, he can’t even consider such a thing until he’s back in his right mind, completely aware and able to fully comprehend what it is Steve so desperately wants from him. Realistically, it’s more likely to end in rejection, but hope springs eternal he supposes.
“Okay,” Dustin says, dragging out his vowels, “If you say so, Steve. But… for the record? I- I wouldn’t be upset if you did date.” He looks down at his feet, shuffling awkwardly in the doorway and fiddling with his fingers, clearly unsure. Steve wants to wrap him up in blankets and reassure him that everything is okay, but he knows Dustin isn’t finished with his thoughts so he keeps his mouth shut and waits for the kid to continue talking. “Actually, it’d- It’d be pretty damn cool… you’re two of my favorite people, and I just want you both to be happy, and it would make me really happy if you were happy together, with each other, y’know?”
The bashfully shy expression on his face is enough to fill Steve’s heart with so much affection he feels like he could burst. Dustin is such a good kid–giant ego and ridiculous attitude aside–his heart and loyalty are something Steve doesn’t take for granted, and he knows he’s incredibly blessed to be able to call the younger boy “friend,” and even more so to call him “brother.”
“That’s really sweet of you, Dustin,” Steve says, smiling lopsidedly in hopes of getting the younger boy to relax. “Your heart’s in the right place and I’m glad you’re so supportive, even if this time you’re a bit off the mark.”
“Off mark. CoUrting, not dating. But yeth, goOd pup,” Eddie coos with a nod of his head that sends his curls bobbing around him in a rolling wave. A pleased rumble vibrates deep in his chest like it’s echoing his words. “Cloud of pupth very good; TheEve betht thire. Happy to take on.”
Steve blinks, completely befuddled by what Eds is saying, the words nothing but gibberish to his ears. A quick glance at Dustin makes it apparent that he must understand what Steve’s monster has just declared. At first Steve thinks maybe it’s some sort of nerdy dork reference, but he’s second guessing that almost immediately judging by the way the younger boy flushes red, almost as though he’s embarrassed by something. Dustin’s eyes are round and huge, his mouth gaping wide at Eddie as the large beast purrs happily in Steve’s lap. Steve is torn between desperately wanting to completely ignore what Eds may or may not have said, and also absolutely needing to know word for word what was stated that made Dustin look like that. He can’t help it, he’s a weak weak man and the creature in his lap is temptation incarnate.
Eddie turns his gaze to Steve, his eyes hooded and full of heat–the way they lock onto Steve’s own sets his blood aflame and he feels his body burn. Steve is viscerally reminded of exactly how weak he is, how difficult the struggle is fighting against his own impulses. He wants to claim that mouth, wrap his hand around Eds’ narrow waist and squeeze, leaving an imprint that only his own grip will match perfectly; dark bruises in the shape of his palms to last for days, telling the world who Eddie belongs to. He wants to sink his fingers into dark curls and yank until his stunning creature’s head drops back and a pretty, pleading whine tumbles out of that gorgeous exposed throat, begging for Steve’s continued attention until the pale skin is marked red, bruised–slick with his saliva and sweat. He wants to drag his teeth up his neck, to leave marks over top of his many mottled scars–to reclaim him from the horrid demobats that stole him away in the first place. He wants to darken Eddie’s flesh with his own teeth, nails, lips and tongue all anew, marking him irrevocably as Steve’s and Steve’s alone.
It’s possessive and dark and dirty as hell; he shouldn’t be having these types of thoughts with Eds in his lap sitting right above his dick god shitting fuck please don’t notice that I’m fucking hard shit fucking damn—
He tries to distract himself, yanking his thoughts around in a sharp U-turn to focus on the fact that they should probably figure out what else Steve’s blood has changed other than Eddie’s sudden ability to speak. With great reluctance, Steve pats his sweetheart’s thigh, drawing his creature’s attention. Eds tilts his head as he gazes down at Steve, his expression going soft and open as he shifts on Steve’s lap, inadvertently brushing tantalizingly close to where his cock sits hard in his sweats. The motion causes the fabric to rub against the head with the barest pressure and his eyes nearly roll back in his skull at the shiver that shoots down his spine. Steve only just barely manages to keep himself from reacting outwardly, fighting the urge to grind his pelvis up against the hips above his own, somehow miraculously avoiding giving away the fact that he’s painfully hard from thinking about how badly he wants to wreck the living temptation in his lap. A questioning sound rumbles out of Eddie’s throat, his tail flicking behind him and brushing against Steve’s legs. Steve watches as Eds’ nostrils flare and his eyes widen slightly, pupils dilating as he’s suddenly hit with the thought–oh fuck, can he smell how badly Steve wants him? Fuckity fuck shitting balls–!
“You’re gonna have to get up at some point today, bud,” Steve says, gainfully ignoring his panic and his raging hard-on, “we should probably see if my blood did anything else, just to be safe.”
Eddie jolts, his back going ramrod straight before he flushes beautifully, the color going from the tips of his ears all the way down his exposed chest like an elegant watercolor wash. (God, Steve wants to bite his way down the path it takes.) Eds squeaks, scrambling backwards off of Steve’s lap, all ungainly limbs and uncoordinated flailing. Thankfully, he manages to avoid stimulating Steve’s boner, and his immediate worry for the clumsy beast crushes whatever arousal he had brewing. Steve reaches out to try to steady him, but the goofy idiot is too busy tripping over his own tail to reach back and with a futile flap of his wings, he tumbles off the couch and lands in a sprawled heap on the floor with a startled squawk. 
When it’s clear he’s not hurt, just embarrassed, Steve stifles his snorting laughter by clapping his hand over his mouth, an action which is–annoyingly enough–nearly synchronous with Dustin’s own, the kid also struggling to contain his own cackling laughter. They’re both treated to a petulant, humiliated glare that darts back and forth between them from the ungainly pile of limbs on the floor like some fucked up ping pong match, and when Steve glances over at Dustin to see if he’s fighting back the hysteria just as much as Steve is, he finds the younger boy looking back at him. It’s over when their eyes meet, both of them sputtering out wheezing, cackling, ugly laughter as they’re no longer able to hold it back. Steve doubles over, clutching the arm of the couch and slinging one arm across his ribs, laughing until he can’t breathe. It feels so good to be here like this, laughing genuinely with Dustin again, with Eddie.
Two of his favorite people, alive and well. They’re here with him, and it’s wonderful.
“Guess there’s not gonna’ be any speeches up on tabletops in your near future, huh, bud?”
“Thhut up!” Eds warbles from the floor, clambering up to all fours as has been his standard means of getting around since he’s come through the gate. Steve watches curiously when Eddie freezes once he’s up, an uncomfortable look passing across his more-human face. His monster squints, looking down at his hands and feet like he’s seeing them for the first time. He sits back on his haunches, flexing his hands and examining his rings before staring at his inhumanly-shaped feet as quiet sub-vocal sounds tumble about in his chest. His wings twitch where they sit against his back, his tail flicking in quiet agitation against the carpet behind him. 
“Eds? You alright?”
“Yeah, what’s wrong, Eddie?” 
Steve exchanges a concerned glance with Dustin, standing up off the couch and making to get closer to where his sweetheart sits on the floor, but the moment he takes that first step forward, Eddie’s head snaps in his direction and he’s pinned in place by hickory eyes that are sharper and more assessing than Steve’s ever seen them. He holds his monster’s gaze despite the sudden racing of his heart, the surge of fight-or-flight that blares in his mind as his veins are flooded with adrenaline. He’s reminded again that although Eddie is his sweetheart, he’s also very much so a predator, even if Steve’s own brain has a slightly screwed up response to his monster in particular. He feels that response happening again the longer he holds his monster’s gaze, that fight-or-flight shifting to something darker. Flight is out of the question because he never wants to abandon such a gorgeous beast, but fight is the wrong word. Eddie is not a creature to be fought, not in the typical sense. Steve wants to control him, to possess him–to have him prostrate at his feet, bending to his will. He can feel his own gaze growing hooded, the dark heat climbing his spine and settling across his shoulders like a mantle as his posture shifts.
He watches as Eddie’s gaze widens and he knows it’s too late to quell that sudden change in himself, that he’s let it crawl too close to the surface but–Eds’ face flushes that pretty shade of pink and he ducks his head, breaking their staredown first to expose his throat. Eds lets out a soft whine that Steve only just barely catches, the sound laced with what rings to his ears as desire, but he’s pretty sure he’s letting his own feelings color his perception. He is surprised, to say the least, that such a predator gave in so easily, but he assumes Eddie must have realized he was putting off an aggressive air because as a human he was the biggest softie Steve has ever met–the man put on a big show, a huge production acting like a tough guy, but like Wayne said, he’s a marshmallow.
“Eds, I’m coming closer.” Steve doesn’t ask but he speaks softly and calmly, approaching with purpose. He kneels down beside where Eddie sits on his haunches on the floor, watching in bemusement as his monster sways into his space almost immediately, whining again. 
“Hey, what’s up, sweetheart? What’s wrong?”
Eds butts his head into Steve’s space, replying with sub-vocal sounds rather than words. Steve assumes something new has upset him or confused him, which means Steve’s now got to find a way to pull him out of his own head. Thankfully, he’s gotten pretty good at that over the last few days based on the way his monster reacted when he’d tried before. He goes for his favorite method, sinking his hand into Eddie’s soft curls, digging deep and tugging gently on the grip he gets close to his monster’s scalp. A soft mewl tumbles out of Eds’ throat, hickory eyes fluttering beneath long, dark lashes, his mouth dropping open slightly. Seeing the glazed expression play out across more human features is entirely different than it had been on a more monstrous face and Steve immediately regrets everything–he’s suddenly so incredibly turned on he thinks his dick could probably cut diamonds, that little lockbox of bad-brain-pervert thoughts rattling around in the back of his mind like it's possessed. 
“I’d like an answer,” he says, that calm steadiness still heavy in his tone despite the absolute tumultuous mess his brain is in, “c’mon, Eds, tell me what’s got you tangled up?”
“F-Feet…” comes the soft, wavering reply, a whine hanging on every syllable, “wrong. Feelth wrong.”
“Okay,” Steve soothes Eddie’s scalp with his fingertips, dragging his nails across it slowly as he quietly murmurs praise. “Thank you for telling me, you did a great job, little riot.”
“TheEve…”
Steve’s fingers spasm at the way his monster practically moans his name, the sound quiet enough that Dustin probably didn’t hear it but loud enough that it will definitely be featuring in so many fantasies on a fucking loop because Jesus H. Christ now all Steve can think about is getting him to do it again.
“What’s wrong with them?” Steve prompts, tangling his hand at the roots of Eddie’s curls again but not tugging, just holding. “I need you to tell me with words, little riot.”
“A- All four feelth wrong. Don’t know what to do. Confuthed. Need TheEve!”
Ohhh fuck, and doesn’t he wish he could hear Eds say that under different circumstances? Steve exhales and runs his fingers along Eddie’s scalp again, eliciting a purring sound as his monster presses into the touch. “You did try my blood today, and that gave you back your voice. Maybe you should try standing on two legs like me and Dustin instead of four. That might be why it feels wrong. Want to try?”
Eddie nods, turning his head to press his face and lips into Steve’s palm, dark lashes resting against his pale cheekbone, fluttering delicate like a butterfly’s wings. Shit, but if he isn’t fucking gorgeous… Steve pulls away from his monster just enough to stand back up, making sure to keep his hand extended down to graze against Eddie’s head so he knows Steve hasn’t left completely. He hears Dustin moving closer to them from where he was standing in the doorway and Steve quickly shoots him a glance, motioning with his other hand for Dustin to stay put. When he catches a glimpse of the kid, Steve can tell he has so many questions but it’s clear he’s taking Steve’s request to heart and for once isn’t immediately asking all ten thousand of them rapid fire. 
Steve turns his attention fully back to his monster, watching carefully as Eds gets his legs under him. He keeps his hand extended, meeting Eddie’s cautious, hesitant hickory gaze with his own steady, assured one. The first grasp of those large, talon-tipped hands slotting perfectly in line with his own feels like a dream, and Steve holds tight, the muscles in his arm flexing as he stabilizes his sweet monster as the seven-foot-plus bulk of him slowly straightens up until he’s standing awkwardly on two legs. He’s hunched slightly, but he’s upright. He’s only taken this position a few times since they’d exited the Upside Down, and usually only when he’d adopted a defensive stance around Steve. Seeing him upright and not posturing is strange but not unwelcome. Steve is still awed by how much bigger Eds is like this, but somehow with those wide, wet eyes he manages to make himself seem small and like he ought to be treated like something fragile rather than the hulking behemoth he actually is. It’s adorable.
“Holy shit, he’s huge.”
Steve barks a laugh, turning his head to cast a grin at Dustin, “He is, isn’t he? It’s really obvious when he stands up like this, so if Eds is gonna be walking around on two legs more often, he’s gonna have to be careful not to knock his head against any door frames.”
Eddie still hasn’t let go of Steve’s hand, staring down at their intertwined fingers like they somehow hold all the secrets of the universe in the spaces between them. Steve squeezes gently, chuckling at the way his monster’s eyes widen and a chirrup jumps out of his throat in his surprise. 
“How does this feel?” he asks, his tone soft.
Eddie tilts his head, looking down at Steve with a considering face. He doesn’t reply immediately, clearly trying to find the correct words. “Ith better. Feelth right.”
“Alright then,” Steve nods, “then that’s another thing that drinking my blood has done for you.”
“Yeah!” Dustin chimes in, finally scurrying closer and all but bouncing in place in his excitement, “a single feeding gave you back your voice, at least at a rudimentary level and apparently your whole, uh, animal versus human instinct shebang.”
With a whole body shimmy that Steve reads as self-satisfied, Eds chirps quietly in response. It’s obvious to Steve that Dustin’s statement is good news to his monster, which means it’s good news to him. He smiles. It’s going to be an adjustment getting used to Eds towering over him on two legs rather than following him like a very large, sweet shadow on all fours, but part of him is excited at the prospect. He’s just one step closer to a new normal, one step closer to being human again both in mind and body. Maybe it’s overly optimistic of him, but Steve can’t help the flickering flame of hope that burns in his chest that perhaps, that just maybe, he might have even the slightest chances once Eds is fully back to himself. He doesn’t want to nurture that flame, but he doesn’t want to smother it either. It’s a strange balance. 
“Do you feel anything else? Like, are there any other aspects that feel wrong, or like you ought to modify them?” Dustin asks Eddie, wide-eyed and eager. Steve will never admit it to the kid, but he loves when Dustin gets excited about things, totally engrossed in his passion that he practically glows with it. It’s something special, because Steve doesn’t think he’s ever had anything he was that passionate about. He played sports and he was good at them; he swam and played basketball because he’d been trying to win his dad’s approval, because he likes the way his body feels when he pushes it to its limits. And sure, he guesses he can call them hobbies, but he wasn’t ever into either activity like Dustin is into his own hobbies–totally captured by all the intricate details, able to talk about them for hours. He thinks maybe as a little kid he had more hobbies; he has vague memories of doing things with mom, flickering in and tickling the edges of his awareness before jumping back just out of reach. He enjoys watching sporting events too, of course, but sometimes he wishes he had something he could be truly passionate about like Dustin is.
Eds cocks his head to the side at Dustin’s question, and Steve’s attention is immediately drawn back to his monster, watching as those eyes go distant for a brief moment before they dart down to the hand still clutching Steve’s. Eddie frowns, his lips curving out around his protruding fangs in a very appealing plush pout. Steve immediately wants to kiss it–he wants to nip at that thick lower lip until it’s swollen and red, bitten and flushed from his attention–but he knows he can’t act on such an impulse and he clears his throat quietly instead, waiting for Eddie to offer Dustin an answer. 
He doesn’t get one. Instead, Steve and Dustin bear witness to Eddie raising the hand still intertwined with Steve’s, squinting at it with deep focus. Steve has no idea what his monster is doing, exchanging a confused glance with Dustin before returning his attention to the way Eds is fixated so intently on their clasped hands. He loves the way his hand feels laced together with Eddie’s, enjoys the strength hidden beneath the gentle grasp and the careful way Eddie handles his deadly talons. The contrast between the inky blackness and the tanned skin of Steve’s hand is stark, the silver of Eds’ rings standing out just like the scarring across Steve’s knuckles. He loves the way his two crooked fingers–broken during the Russian interrogation and never healed quite right–slot so nicely between Eds’ long digits, the over-large knuckles pressing against the elegant, slender fingers of his guitarist-turned-monster. Steve’s breath catches as he suddenly notices Eds’ long talons begin to retract, slowly pulling back into Eddie’s nail beds until finally they’re only about an inch and a half long rather than the impressive length they were before. A pleased rumble vibrates in Eds’ chest and Steve silently marvels as his monster proudly examines his newly shortened nails. 
“Leth chance to hurt TheEve now.”
He sounds so proud of himself, his lips spread wide in a toothy grin, eyes curved upwards. Steve can’t help but reach out and reward him for his thoughtfulness, pressing a gentle caress against his jaw with the hand Eds doesn’t have in his grip. His monster leans into the touch with a soft, delighted sound, nuzzling into the skin of Steve’s palm and releasing a slew of happy purring noises from deep within his chest.
“That’s amazing!” Dustin looks like he very well may vibrate out of his skin with how excited he is, “I can’t believe you just retracted your talons like that! Like- Like a cat, but not!”
“Wath eathy,” Eds murmurs, blinking hazy eyes down at Dustin, a fond smile pulling his lips away from his over-large fangs, “felt natural.”
“Do you,” Dustin squints up at Eddie, tapping his chin with a finger and clearly considering his words, “do you know what other abilities you may have?”
A slow blink is Dustin’s immediate answer, followed by a muted croon that Steve interprets as a wordless sound of thought–a placeholder noise. Steve started recognizing those after the first day, the sounds Eddie began to make that were empty of real emotion and simply filled the silence like an “um” or an “uh” would work in human speech. Eds continues to sway into Steve’s space, unable or perhaps unwilling to break contact with Steve’s offered touch, but he turns his full attention to Dustin as his eyes clear.
“Thcreamth, Thcreechth like thpellth? Think I mo- morph? Tranthf- tranthform?” he grumbles, trying to get his pronunciation right around his warbling vocal cords and his over-large fangs. “Think thereth more but… out of reach?” His nose scrunches in his frustration, which only makes Steve want to pepper so many kisses across all the cute little wrinkles that form between his brows and across the bridge of his nose.
Dustin’s hands twitch, and from the tiny gesture Steve immediately knows that his genius kid wants to be writing everything that Eddie has been telling them down, taking extensive notes for posterity or whatever it is that he calls it. For science, Steve! It’s only scientific if I write it all down! He can practically hear the little shit’s voice screeching in his head, rambling about the sanctity of data and all that nerd crap. 
“Do you know what you transform into? Mist? Bats? Or- Or is this form what you transform into and you’re talking about a more human visage?”
“Visage? Jesus, Dust, breaking out the fancy words already?”
“You understood it, it’s not that fancy, Steve,” Dustin snarks, his words heavy with attitude and rolling his eyes at Steve in that way Steve now recognizes as nothing but exasperated fondness. It makes him bite back a grin.
“Rude.”
Eds bats the bill of Dustin’s cap with his free hand–seeing as he’s still got the other one intertwined with Steve’s–and knocks it down into the kid’s eyes, earning an indignant squawk from the younger boy.
“Be nice to TheEve, pup,” he growls out, the sub-vocals rumbling deep in his chest, “he ith your thire.”
“Okay! Okay, jeez,” Dustin grumbles, fixing the hat on his head and pouting up at Eddie with the most disgruntled expression Steve’s seen on his face in a while, “who do you think you are? My dad?”
“DaAd?” Eddie warbles, making a confused face that brings out the cute crinkle on the bridge of his nose again. Steve wants to bite it.
Dustin snorts, laughter in his voice, “Yeah, sure. You’re dad, Eddie. Steve’s mom. Obviously.”
“Don’t start that mom shit again, you jackass.”
“Steve, if it looks like a duck, walks like a duck and quacks like a duck, then it’s a duck. You’re a mom, the whole Party knows it. You might as well just accept it, man.”
“Why does Eddie get to be the dad?” He pouts, only half joking, “Why can’t we both just be dads?”
Dustin blinks owlishly, clearly not having expected that response from Steve. “Uh. I mean, you can? Nobody says you can’t… is that really your biggest hang-up on the whole mom thing?”
Steve shrugs, fighting to keep his laughter from burbling out at the dumbfounded look on the kid’s face. Every time he manages to render the little shit speechless it’s the funniest shit in the world. Objectively. “Just think it’s pretty heteronormative of you, Dustybuns. What, can’t two dudes co-parent a whole pack of rowdy teenagers? Why’s one of us gotta be a mom to do that?”
Dustin blinks rapidly and shakes his head a few times like he’s trying to clear the fog from his brain, and Steve bites the inside of his lip to keep from absolutely losing it. An oof is knocked out of him, along with his breath as a weight settles heavy across his shoulders, long arms wrapping snugly around his middle. A deep purring vibrates from the chest pressed up against his back, reverberating through his whole body with a strength that leaves him feeling dizzy. Steve feels his monster bury his face into that space between his shoulder and his neck, nuzzling and unashamedly breathing Steve in. He feels the way his facial expression softens from surprise to something fond, bringing one hand up to tenderly stroke along the side of his monster’s jaw. He lifts his head away from Steve’s neck, leaning into the touch of Steve’s palm as the purring sound gets louder.
“TheEve thuch good thire… TheEve wantth me to help? TheEve… wantth to co-paArent with me?”
The words are warbling, heavy with feeling and rife with disbelief. It’s as though Eddie can’t believe Steve would consider him as a member of their little group–as though he isn’t just as important to the half-feral pack of shithead gremlins as Steve is. To think that Eddie believes he hasn’t earned a place with them, doesn’t deserve a place at their weird save-the-world table is unfathomable, completely incorrect in every possible way. Eddie is such an important person to them, for so many reasons. It breaks Steve’s heart a little that he can’t see that and he refuses to let this assumption stand.
“Of course I would, Eds. You know how much those dipshits adore you. I’d love to have you, you’re a great help.”
He’s met with heavy silence, ratcheting up the nerves brewing in his gut. When he can’t stand the suspense any further, he turns his head to get a better look at his monster’s face, hoping to glean some clarity into his thoughts or some insight on the situation. However, the awed starry-eyed expression he’s met with is enough to stop him dead and make his breath stutter in his lungs.
Eddie looks as though he’s been struck dumb, his eyes huge and wet, glittering and over-filled with rapturous wonderment that sets Steve’s nerves on fire. He looks as though he might cry with the sheer amount of emotion Steve can read in every inch of his face, in the way his plush lips tremble around his over-large fangs and with each hitching breath he can feel quavering against his shoulders and back. A low whine that seems to have been building for some time in Eds’ throat finally spills over, shaky and quiet but riddled with desperation as he buries his face back in Steve’s neck, nuzzling so deeply it’s as though he’s trying to hide away from the world in the comforting familiarity of Steve’s skin. A wetness almost immediately begins to form against Steve’s neck and involuntarily Steve finds himself making soft sounds of comfort out loud, responding to his monster’s distress as he clings tightly to Steve, those newly-shortened talons sinking into the fabric of his shirt but not getting anywhere near his skin. Even emotional, Eddie still holds him so tenderly and Steve’s heart is so full of love he fears he might burst.
“Really..?”
His voice is trembling, quiet and desperate for reassurance. Steve doesn’t hesitate.
“Of course, sweetheart. You’re one of my favorite people, Eddie Munson. I always want you with me.”
The quiet whine he receives to his soft words makes his chest hurt, fondness spilling over as he rocks back and forth slightly, soothing the quivering behemoth clinging to him like Steve is the only thing keeping him afloat. He knows that the more blood Eddie gets from him, the less he’s probably going to need these comforts from Steve; so for now, he savors them with his whole heart. He’s falling in love with a boy so kind, so incredible–a true opposites attract scenario that’s like something straight out of one of those trashy romance novels you buy at the airport–that he feels as though it’s nothing but a dream. If it is, he doesn’t want to wake up.
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“So… not to burst your little not-dating bubble, guys, but uh. How exactly is keeping Eddie here going to go? ‘Cause it’s obvious he can’t fully look after himself yet, and he probably doesn’t want to be alone, right?” Dustin’s voice wrenches Steve back to reality, and the cold-hard slap of it settles into his bones with a healthy supply of dread.
“Shit, yeah. I can’t keep calling off of work, and a bunch of you guys still have school… shit, I had hoped I could get him settled before this became an issue, but...”
“Who else knows about Eddie again?”
“Um, Nance and Robin, but they’re both still in school. Ms. Byers and Hop, too, but he’s busy with the suits and lassoing the police force—”
Dustin is cackling. “Lassoing? What the hell, Steve? He’s not a cowboy!”
“—Jesus, kick rocks, asshole! You know what I mean! He’s probably gonna step down as chief of police soon, anyway. He said he didn’t want the position back even though Powell basically threw the hat and the badge at him after the whole… spring break disaster.” 
“I dunno, Chief Hopper might tough it out; El seems to think he’s got more in him. Oh! Maybe Ms. Byers can help us?”
Steve frowns thoughtfully. Eds did like Ms. Byers, and she’d charmed him very quickly, too. It couldn’t hurt to ask… if she’s available, of course. “Is she still working the telemarketer job? She can do that from home, so she could technically do it from here if she’s still with the company.”
“I can ask Will?”
Steve cringes, “I mean, be subtle about it? They all promised to keep their mouths shut about Eds–I know Hop’s still working on clearing his name with the Feds and I’m not about to put his life at risk.”
“Fair enough.” Dustin nods, tapping at his chin as he considers, “I’ll ask but I’ll be cool about it. Say you need a favor, or something.”
Steve shrugs, “I mean I guess that works, if Will really needs to know what’s going on he can always call or just show up like you do, I guess.” He rolls his eyes, “It’s not like I’m gonna’ turn away Baby Byers if he turns up on my doorstep looking like a wet cat left out in the cold.”
“I’m telling him you said that.”
“Screw you dude, don’t you dare! He’ll fucking cry! And then I’ll get punched by Jonathan for making him cry! Dustin! Dustin!! Hey!! Oh, get back here you little shit–!”
The rest of the day is spent goofing off, Eddie clinging tightly to Steve’s side as he basks in Dustin and Steve’s banter. Steve cooks enough dinner for four, packaging up the final portion for Claudia when she swings by to pick up Dustin. He watches fondly from the doorway as they drive off, hoping she gets some rest after what was undoubtedly a long, exhausting shift at Hawkins General.
“Dustin gone?”
“Mmhm,” Steve replies, leaning back into the solid presence that comes up behind him as he shuts the door. Long, strong arms wrap around his torso, clawed hands pressing tenderly against his chest, over his heart. A rumbling purr vibrates through the hard body behind him, soothing in its familiarity and he sighs in contentment. Eddie’s chin tucks against his shoulder, his nose butting up against Steve’s neck, breathing him in.
“Couch? Cuddle?”
“Sure, sweetheart,” he says, smiling as he strokes the side of Eddie’s face. “That sounds great.”
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He’ll worry about everything else tomorrow. For now, he’s not going to let anything stop him from enjoying the time spent being held tenderly and so, so safe in the arms of his monster–the sweet, wonderful boy he’s falling fast and hard in love with. He doesn’t know how long he’ll be able to keep this–this tenderness, this intimacy–but he’s going to treasure it for as long as he can. It’s so unbearably precious, more valuable than all the riches of the world, and he’ll never take it for granted.
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HE HAS HIS VOICE BACK Y'ALL!
*bangs pots and pans*
AND YET THEY STILL CAN'T COMMUNICATE
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put me out of my misery i can't with these two morons anymore
Anyway, welcome to the next era of STEVE IS A FUCKING UNRELIABLE NARRATOR and EDDIE HEARTEYES MUNSON IS INTO GODDAMN HIMBOS.
please help me i am so trapped by these fucking clowns.
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the support banners (and the content warning banners) are from here! they're beautiful, aren’t they? So in love with them. cafekitsune has made some gorgeous stuff. please check them out if you're a creator!
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As of this update, the perma-list on the main post is full!
Don’t worry, you can still ask to be tagged!  Your name will just end up in the replies, rather than the main post. I won’t forget you, I had to make a spreadsheet to keep track of all of you, which is fucking wild to me but i’m so goddamn flustered and blushy and skfnalsghaso about it so it’s whatever i guess.
I also have a list of folks who didn’t ask specifically to be tagged for future installments, but have been extremely enthusiastic about the story from the beginning based on their reblogs and/or replies to the posts. So if you’re on that list, unless you tell me otherwise, I'll continue putting your name in the replies. You can also follow the story tag, which is #Take Me Home steddie fic where you might find my posted sneak peeks or wip updates in between the actual parts, or you can even just follow me, @hobbyistauthor for all my nonsense!
If you don’t want to be tagged or want to be taken off the tag list for any reason, just let me know either in the replies or via DM. I don't bite much.
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blakbonnet · 7 months
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angry Ed tucking a blanket around a sleeping Stede on a stormy night out on the deck, s2 I'm begging you
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hotdrinkstudies · 8 months
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Sending my love from the other side of the apocalypse
I’m telling you, Prime will do whatever it takes to torment C137
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magnusbae · 1 year
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On the rare occasions when Hob is actually mad at Dream— he refuses to sleep. Coffee, energy drinks and the God forsaken awakeness pills? All fair game. If he has to inject caffeine directly into his vein, he would. Hob doesn't often get mad, but when he does, he likes to make a point. Dream and Hob match in more than one ways, really, they do. And so it is that the Dream Lord must come out of his realm personally to sprinkle sand into his lover's eyes because he'd be damned if Hob refuses his gift for more than two nights in a row. Not speaking for 100 years? Easy. Hob refusing sleep? Unacceptable.
#Dreamling#Fixed tags:#Dream creating Hob an entire GALAXY in the Dreaming to placate him but Hob has none of this— he refuses to enjoy it.#Dream getting offended that his lover does not appreciates his good graces is like— Well I can also give you a nightmare :|#And Hob just:#'Maybe just don't say that I will eventually stop loving you 🙄🙄🙄 Hob about that- huh.'#Dream: I meant not to insult you— it is merely how humans /are/. Most entities cannot stay with me for long. (The will not is unsaid)#Hob: You're such an idiot.#Hob would cross his arms and try to stay mad with him but he simply CANNOT.#Dream is being genuine— perhaps a genuine idiot— but genuine nevertheless.#He would sigh and finally come over to Dream and he'd take his hands into his and pull him close to himself.#He has to stand up taller— because here in the Dreaming his lover is taller than in the waking.#It's nearly at his tiptoes that he lands a soft kiss at Dream's lips.#Hob: Just because you had /shitty/ exes doesn't mean /I/ have to be#For the matter— I rather not be your ex at all.#Dream attempts denying all his exes being bad but Hob just keeps on kissing him insistently#Like hell he's allowing his lover dwell in the feeling that no one stays— EVEN IF HE DID SPIKE HIS ANGER METER LIKE HELLA#Dream: You will leave me because you're human Hob's anger: 📈📈📈📈#But he's not really mad he just wishes Dream to trust him is all.#I mean Dream is JUST the center of his entire world#but you know#anyways those tags are meant to be read separately I was just having some crack fun#the original tags gotten horribly out of order and were an absolute mess so I had to rewrite it for it to make any sense at all#so some of the chaotic insanity been lost XDDD#anyways yes XD#buns.hc
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nightfall-kachiniko · 5 months
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No just hawks pulling you in close, having such an intimate moment with you as he glared at your lips and then your eyes, obsessed with how gorgeous you look laying down next to him as your eyes meet his. Just him getting so into the moment he forgets to kiss you and you’re just like “so.. are you gonna keep starring at me or are you finally gonna kiss me?” He finally comes out his trance and realizes he’s been just starting at you for the past few minutes 😭
“OH SHOOT SORRY!” *gives you a quick peck*
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Eli: If at first you don't succeed-
Peter: Then it's only attempted murder.
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moonspirit · 1 month
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Armin being so done with the virgin Jaeger bros:
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Bonus - Armin being so done with himself:
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antianakin · 3 months
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There is exactly one criticism that I agree with my, very anti-Jedi, cousin on and that's the Jedi were TERRIBLE Generals. Generals may TRY to make sure their men mostly come back. But useless sacrifices are not only acceptable, but expected, the men are mostly expandable in war. The Jedi did not consider sacrifices like that acceptable or expected. Sure it did happen. It was WAR. But they tried their best to make sure it DIDN'T. The Jedi were terrible Generals. But they were the teachers and Leaders the CLONES NEEDED.
I'm not sure I'd ENTIRELY agree with that. I think I'd be willing to agree that the Jedi were perhaps less CONVENTIONAL Generals, and they definitely do seem to at least TRY to place the lives of their men above just tossing them away for an easy victory, but you can just as easily claim that keeping the men alive to keep fighting is a good strategy in and of itself.
The biggest piece of evidence I'd point to that the Jedi were actually perfectly good Generals is the Citadel arc and Tarkin's criticisms. The one real criticism he makes of the Jedi as military leaders is that they're occasionally too soft and will abandon a mission if it looks impossible to win without near total casualties (on either side). But he's generally fairly positive about the Jedi and if they were truly awful at their jobs, I don't think TARKIN of all people would hold back on saying so, even to the Jedi's faces.
And we DO see the Jedi willing to make sacrifices and accepting that this is a necessary part of war. The Citadel arc is, again, a perfectly good example of this. Obi-Wan and Anakin go in with like 3-4 men each I think and they come back with a grand total of 3 (Rex, Cody, and Fives). A LOT of clones die on this mission that they all KNEW was basically a suicide mission because the Jedi themselves decided that getting the information about the hyperspace lanes was vital enough to the war that it was worth losing multiple lives over (including their own).
So it's not that the Jedi don't understand that sacrifices are necessary in war or even that they avoid it entirely, they just avoid what they see as UNNECESSARY sacrifice for what might amount to a fairly minor victory. Keeping more of their men alive might, in the long run, be a better strategic choice than losing all of them on one campaign, especially if it's over like one uninhabited moon or something like that. There's nothing to say that the losses the Jedi deem acceptable are things that would've changed the entire tide of the war had they chosen to push forward instead.
The other good evidence that the Jedi acting this way would've been the WORSE choice is the Umbara arc. We are told and then see that Krell IS the kind of General who is willing to lose a lot of clones in order to gain victories in battle, and the clones do recognize that he has a lot of victories under his belt. But never once do they discuss whether those victories really MEANT anything or had a large impact on the war effort. It certainly never seems that the Republic is majorly pushing back the Separatists because of Krell's victories, nobody ever mentions that Krell gained them a major advantage with those victories or took out anyone of any consequence on the Separatist side with his strategies. And by the time he gets to Umbara, he's explicitly using this strategy to WEAKEN the Republic side and cause a loss. Several of his strategies WOULD'VE meant the Republic lost on Umbara and it's only the clones utilizing different strategies that put fewer of them at risk that they actually end up continuing to HAVE victories at all.
I'll also point out that the Jedi continuously getting their men killed en masse would've bankrupted the Republic a LOT earlier because they'd have to be paying for more clones a LOT more often than they did in canon and I can't imagine anyone would've considered that a particularly sound strategy and at some point I'm sure the Senate would've felt obligated to put a stop to it anyway and insisted on strategies that kept more clones alive for longer. So I'm not sure it's fair to claim the Jedi were utilizing BAD strategy by not just exclusively using tactics that meant most of their men were killed for every single victory.
So the ONLY criticism we EVER see of the Jedi's ability as military leaders is Tarkin claiming they're "too soft" and Tarkin is the kind of person who would likely say that until the Jedi started carpet bombing entire Separatist planets. Would it give them a victory? Yeah, sure, maybe, but that's the exact same strategy the Separatists are using and look how well that works out for THEM. Everything else we ever see seems to showcase that the Jedi are in fact perfectly good Generals, not just in that they're kind to the clones and are unwilling to carpet bomb Separatist planets, but also because they're just... good at this. They CAN be strategic, they CAN run wars if they want to. And I think that's the whole point of the Jedi in some ways is that yes, they CAN make war when they need to, they just actively choose NOT TO every time they can. THIS is why Qui-Gon tells Padme that he and Obi-Wan are there to protect her but that they can't win this war for her and they end up going off to fight off a Sith while Padme has to actually win the war with her own people and the Gungans instead. The Jedi don't WANT to be in the position of doing nothing but fighting, but they're absolutely capable of this kind of work.
That's the tragedy of the war in some ways, the Jedi ARE good at this no matter how much they wish they weren't sometimes. But being good at it means they can actually protect the Republic, their own men, and even the Separatist civilians better, so they're not going to just sit there and do things that will screw over a bunch of people. Yes, they're going to fight the war in such a way that they reduce casualties as much as possible, but reducing casualties also requires doing enough to not LOSE the damn war, too. It's a delicate balance they're trying to hold on to and I'd argue they manage it better than anybody else would've ever done in their position.
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kozzdraw · 8 months
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Clearing sketches out here take em
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willifaint · 8 months
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Casteel after accidentally falling in love with Poppy
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hobbyistauthor · 2 days
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9 ▰▱▰▱ Take Me Home (Please Stay With Me) ▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱
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"came back wrong" post-s4 fanfiction, featuring monster kas!eddie. pre-steddie -> steddie
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minors DNI please, Steve has some S P I C Y thoughts, although nothing too explicit yet.
TW: References to period-typical homophobia, brief discussion of HIV/AIDS crisis.
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Part I ┊ Part II ┊ Part III ┊ Part IV ┊ Part V ┊ Part VI ┊ Part VII ┊ Part VIII ┊ Part IX (📍)
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Arlene grins at him, although her smile is painfully awkward and more like a grimace to Steve’s eyes.
“Guess I wasn't as clear as I thought I was.”
She steps towards him, holding her arms out in invitation. “Baby Bear, I'm so sorry, I completely misunderstood the subtext.” She apologizes and Steve's heart immediately starts to mend itself from the damage his knee-jerk fear at being outed caused, healing by the grace of the heartfelt nature of her words. The cracks that widened along the well-worn fault lines that spiderweb across the shattered patchwork remnants of his heart begin to fill in slowly, rebuilding yet again. He should have known, he should have never doubted his mom because she always has his back. He chokes down a relieved sob as all of the stress from the last few minutes comes crashing down on him with all of its immense weight, sending him stumbling into his mom’s open arms. He feels safe and warm, cradled in an embrace he’s missed terribly for the past three years. He immediately starts crying, the tears coming hot and fast down his cheeks and leaving salty streaks in their wake.
“Ohh, baby…” Arlene shushes him softly, rocking Steve gently side to side while she cards her fingers through his hair. He feels like a child again, comforted after falling and skinning his knee playing outside. He clutches to her harder, the catharsis too great to hold back as he gasps huge wet breaths in between his long bouts of sobbing, choking cries. He has no idea what she's doing here, back home in Hawkins when it looks less like a small town and more like a war zone, but he’s certainly not complaining about her presence. He’s missed her, and right now he's going to relish being close to his mom again for as long as she sticks around. He knows how busy she is, how important her new position at Ellsco is and he refuses to be the reason that gets jeopardized. Arlene smells like good wine and expensive cologne–not perfume, she’d never liked perfume–and Steve buries his face in the crook of her neck, sniffles at where she's warm and her pulse is strong. His fingers are fisted tightly in the fabric of her button-front, wrinkling the expensive fabric, but she doesn't even flinch. She’s always had her priorities in line, and laundry ranks far below her only son.
“I'm so sorry, honey,” she murmurs again, cradling the back of his head in her palm. “I know how dangerous the world is for people like me, and I should have known better than just making assumptions about who you’d told or hadn’t told about your presumed sexuality. What I said and the implications could have put you in danger were we around prying ears, even if you aren’t queer, because rumors are powerful things. Granted, I don’t think Eddie is the kind of person to think less of you if you were queer, if it's any consolation? I told him I was a lesbian and he didn’t really bat an eyelash, very respectful… I don't think Eddie will remember what I said, either? He's fairly blitzed...”
Steve laughs, the sound weak and wet from all his weeping. “N-no. It's okay,” he wants to reassure her, because honestly the fact that she’d wanted to goof around with him about it, wanted to normalize his queerness just like she would have done if he were feeling this way about a girl means more to him than words can say. She hadn’t done that out of malice, she knows how dangerous it is out there for people like them, knows she made a mistake by outing him–even if he technically hasn’t confirmed or denied it, yet–and apologized for it, too. Knowing that his mom is like him, like Robin, warms him from the inside out, igniting a bonfire in his chest and comforting him like the way it would dispel the chill of an autumn night. He thinks he might be ready to finally give voice to the words he’s never let himself say.
“I'm… I mean…”
“... Baby Bear?”
Steve takes a stuttering breath, trembling as his grip tightens on his mom’s shirt, “I… I'm not straight, mom.”
Arlene cards a hand gently through his hair, her other arm pulling tight across his shoulders with a comforting weight. He leans into her embrace, his eyes squeezing shut as his heartbeat races in his chest. He’s never said it out loud before; never actually voiced the truth to anyone besides himself in the safety of his own mind, well and truly alone with his thoughts. Hell, he's not even told Robin yet, although he's pretty sure she suspects, as if squinty eyed knowing looks she's been shooting him lately weren't telling enough. It’s not that he’s in any way ashamed to admit his bisexuality, but. It’s always felt like something he’s just not allowed to talk about? He’s not greedy, it’s not like being bisexual makes him more likely to cheat or anything–that’s horrible, and he refuses to ever cheat on anyone–but he likes both. He has a luxury in being able to choose to take the safe option; the path of least resistance. It’s not like he’s truly sacrificing because it’s not a lie, is it? He very well can fall in love with and have a perfectly fulfilling relationship with a woman–it doesn’t mean he doesn’t also find men attractive or that the potential to have the same type of relationship with a man is miraculously no longer there, but. He has the luxury of appearing straight-passing. Robin and people like her can never have that, the illusion of safety, without cutting away a part of themselves and pretending to be something they’re not. Forcing themselves into boxes that don’t fit for the sake of keeping themselves alive in a world that wishes them dead.
“Thank you for telling me,” mom’s voice is soft and gentle, soothing as she continues to hold him, “it’s very brave of you.”
He laughs, the sound wet and full of self-hatred, “Is it?” he scoffs.
Arlene pulls back from him, tenderly cupping his cheeks in her hands and looking Steve in the eyes, an intensity behind her long lashes. Her brows are furrowed and her lips are pursed, deep sorrow intermingling with the upset painted across her face.
“Stevie, of course it is. Coming out is terrifying, every time. It’s sometimes the hardest thing you may ever do in your life, because it’s voicing something so deeply personal to someone you hope you can trust. And sometimes,” her lips twitch into a bittersweet smile, “sometimes that trust is broken.”
Steve smiles back, wobbly and wet as he sniffles some tears away. He chuckles, relief washing over him as it actually starts to sink in that his mom is okay with him, that she’s not going to abandon him, that she believes him. It’s freeing and the tears stream down his cheeks anew, a sob wrenching its way out of his throat. Arlene shushes him, a broken worried sound, as her thumbs wipe away the salty streams as they tumble down his face. His sobs are half laughter, relief tangling up with the remnants of his anxiety, the internalized self-hatred he’s been working on sweeping away. Robin has talked about internalized homophobia before, and he’s more than aware he’s been working on his own since that day on the floor of the nasty Starcourt movie theater bathroom. Having his mother here, supporting him, loving him so earnestly, helps to rip it from where it stubbornly clings to the walls of Steve’s thoughts, and with every tear track she wipes away, he feels himself grow lighter.
“Mo- Momma Bear,” he warbles out, unable to stop his crying even as he smiles, “Momma, I’m bisexual.”
Arlene pauses in her earnest wiping of his tears, blinking at him. Slowly, and with the warmth of the sun rising above the horizon in the breaking of dawn, she smiles at him. Her eyes crinkle with how wide her lips pull, glistening with unshed tears of her own, sniffling as she just looks at him. He can see the pride in her eyes, the happiness in her smile. 
“Baby Bear,” she says, “I love you so, so much.”
“Love you too, Momma,” he murmurs, throwing himself back into her arms, squeezing tightly. She’s smaller than him now, and it catches him off guard a little. Arlene has always felt larger than life to Steve, the biggest person in the room every time, but now he stands slightly taller than her and broader than her in the shoulders and arms. She fits against him differently than she used to–it’s still a shelter, but the comfort shared feels equal in exchange.
“So,” Arlene asks, her face pressed against his shoulder, her arms tucked under his to rest against his shoulder blades, “when did you know, Stevie-bear? Last I’d heard from you it was all ladies all the time. What changed?”
He chuckles, pressing his nose into her hair where it’s started to come loose from its’ styling. “I’ve always known, I think. I started noticing boys the same time I noticed girls, but context cues from people around me made it obvious that boys didn’t talk about other boys like boys talked about girls.” He shrugs, inhaling the familiar simple scent of her expensive shampoo. “I actually thought everyone had the same thoughts as me, finding everyone pretty and just choosing not to acknowledge the other side of things until later on. I um. I met someone who’s gay, actually, and they kind of made me realize that my way of thinking wasn’t exactly straight.”
“Oh?”
“Mmhm,” Steve nods, carefully considering his next words to keep Robin’s identity to himself. His mom might also be a lesbian, but he would never out Robin, even to another queer person. He couldn’t betray her trust like that. “We were talking and I asked them to choose between two celebrities, which one they thought was hotter. They said neither, and I was so confused. I said, ‘not even like, objectively?’ and they were just so meh about the whole thing I really had to reevaluate my entire life, really.”
Arlene laughs along with Steve, and he presses his forehead against the curve of her shoulder. Sighing.
“We took a few trips up to Indy, and there’s a couple of bookshops up there that sell, um. Zines? And other queer literature? So I kind of, immersed myself in that, and I realized I was probably bisexual all along and just hadn’t understood that liking both was an option.”
“Mm, sexuality is a fascinating thing, isn’t it?”
Steve chuckles, pulling back from Arlene for a moment to look at his mom. She seems softer in the waning light of the kitchen, hair falling from its styling, her shirt rumpled–blazer long lost–and standing in her socks on the tile. He can feel the fondness in his own bearing, no doubt mirroring the expression she has on her face as she looks back at him. His dad used to complain about how similar he looks to his mom–how closely he took to the Ellsworth family genetics rather than the Harrington genes. Steve’s never been more grateful for that.
“I mean, learning about the Kinsey scale was pretty interesting,” he says, “I’m not a perfect 3 I don’t think,” he admits, shrugging. He’s definitely pickier about what men he’s attracted to than he is about what draws him to women. The basics are there–brown hair, doe eyes, intelligent, a little mean–but otherwise, it’s just easier with women. He doesn’t have preferences or anything beyond his four main attraction points, but men? Men have to be pretty in some way… something about them has to strike Steve in a way that makes him pause, consider, and think wow, he’s pretty, huh? If that thought doesn’t happen, there’s no attraction, it’s just another dude. 
“I think the number was um, a 2?” he taps his lips with a finger as he thinks, “Like, women are just easier for me to notice, because women, right?” He makes a curvy gesture with his hands while wiggling his eyebrows suggestively, making his mom snort a laugh, but she’s smiling and nodding so he continues. “But, like, objectively, I notice when dudes are hot. I mean, it doesn’t really do anything for me, I just notice.”
He licks his lips as his thoughts drift to one particular man. He feels hot where the blood flushes the skin of his neck, his mouth suddenly becoming dry as a desert. “But… sometimes a man just floors me with how pretty he is, you know?” He kind of hates how dreamy his voice gets by the end of his little monologue, how telling he’s being in the way he talks about a not-so-hypothetical man. 
“Well,” Arlene says, raising an eyebrow at Steve that makes him feel so seen, “I do not know, because I am a big ol’ Kinsey 6,” she smirks and Steve groans. “But! I understand what you mean,” she laughs at his disgruntled expression, and the sound is so fond and teasing that Steve can’t help his blush and shoves gently at his mom.
“Shut up, mom! Oh my god, why am I talking about this with you!?”
“Because I’m your mother and you missed me and I’m also gay as fuck, Stevie-bear! You know you’re safe talking about your boy-crushes with me, now,” she croons softly at him, clearly conscious of her volume as she leans into his space, grinning mischievously.
Steve rolls his eyes, but his smile gives away his happiness with the continued ease of their relationship. His mom relents, leaning back against the kitchen island and smoothly exiting Steve’s personal space.
“Not that I’m not glad to see you, Mom, but why are you here? Back in Hawkins?”
Arlene sighs, the sound heavy as though she’s carrying the weight of the world as she tilts her head backwards.
“I wanted to see you, Bear,” she admits, “and after the truly horrendous call I had with the financial advisor over the phone about how I wanted to adjust the terms of access for the trust,” she makes a face, sticking out her tongue and rolling her eyes, “I knew it would be simpler to come here myself and handle it in person. That it gave me an excuse to see you? A bonus that Charlene was all too willing to exploit to bully the rest of the board into getting me some well deserved R&R time.” 
Arlene preens a little, clearly delighted with the ingenuity of herself and Charlene–he’s glad that he knows how well his mom pays her, because honestly that woman has to be a saint to put up with the ridiculous energy and demands of his mother on a daily basis–she’s a tough business woman, and for good reason.
“You do work a lot, Mom,” Steve says, his smile going crooked with fondness at his mother’s dramatic flair, “I’m glad Charlene’s in your corner.”
“Mm, I’m going to make sure I can wrangle her up a good bonus again this year… or maybe a raise? The taxes they throw on bonuses are bullshit, anyway.”
“Definitely a raise, Mom.”
“I’ll do that, then, Stevie-bear. Thanks for your input,” she waves him closer and he goes easily, bending forward when she beckons, receiving a smacking forehead kiss for his obedience. It fills his heart with warmth and he realizes his smile has yet to fade. They stand together in comfortable silence in their kitchen for a long moment, just existing in each other’s space. It’s both strange and welcoming, a reminder of something he’s not thought he’d have again. Just being with his mom makes Steve feel safe, but it’s been such a long time, it’s foreign even through the oddly nostalgic tingle that dances across his skin.
“So,” Arlene finally breaks the silence, “can you explain to me what exactly is going on with Eddie?”
“I–”
“Look, Stevie,” she sighs, “you know I’m not judging you in the slightest, right? I just feel like I need a better grasp on the situation. I mean, I walked into my own home to the guy perched on my countertops eating fucking Spaghetti-Os over the sink and looking like some sort of fantasy monster out of one of Le Guin’s novels. I need a little more context than the vague garbage excuses Owens and Stinson spouted at me.”
Steve raises an eyebrow, surprised she even knows anything, “Um, yeah, about that–how–?”
“Ellsco works with government contracts, and that requires me to have certain levels of clearance regarding confidential matters,” Arlene replies, a smug eyebrow raise punctuating her statement, “So needless to say, they learned quickly that they couldn’t shut me out. Not when Ellsco is as intertwined and as important to their work as we are.”
“Mom,” Steve breathes, “you didn’t!”
“You bet your ass I did!” she scoffs, “What, you think I wouldn’t threaten to pull funding for their weird little projects entirely once I found out my son was involved in something they fucked up?! And they thought they could just not tell me?”
“Oh my g–” Steve cackles, “Jesus Christ, you’re such a fucking badass, holy shit!”
“Praise me all you want, Bear, but that’s not getting you out of explaining what the hell is up with the claws and the ears and fangs and the tail.”
“He’s got wings too, actually.”
“No shit?”
“No shit.” He nods, “They’re small enough he can hide ‘em under his shirts now, if they’re baggy enough, but yeah.”
“Huh.” Arlene blinks slowly before she tosses her head slightly, as though she’s forcibly shaking herself out of her thoughts, “No distracting me, Bear. How did he get like that? Is it because of the, eh, what did they call it… Upside Down? The thing that caused the earthquakes and the weird cracks in the ground?”
“Kind of. It’s… it’s a really long story,” Steve sighs, raking his hand through his hair, “can… can we go sit down for this?”
“Jesus,” Arlene mutters, a concerned expression crossing her face, “how long is long, baby? You need to sit down to tell it?”
“Um.” 
“Baby Bear…”
“It’s been going on since ‘83.”
“Are you fucking–goddamn ‘83?!”
Steve cringes and shrugs, “I–I mean, y-yeah?”
Arlene pinches the bridge of her nose, “Shit. I might pull funding out of spite anyway, Jesus fucking Christ. And let me guess,” she spits, “you’ve been involved the whole goddamn time?”
“Uh–”
“Nope, no, Stevie-bear, that was rhetorical, you’re my kid, of course you were fucking involved. You’re too kind to not want to help, even if it was terrifying…”
“Um–”
“Did the fucking government just leave it all in the hands of fucking children?!”
“I mean, Ms. Byers and Hop were there the whole time–”
“Ms. Byers? Hop?” Arlene squints at Steve briefly, before she shakes her head, “Joyce and Jim? You’re telling me they were the only adults who knew about this?”
“I mean, yeah?” he shrugs, “It was mostly me, Nance, Jon, and later on, Rob? Oh, and the kids I told you about? The ones I babysit? And Ms. Byers and Hop were the adults in the know. We’ve kinda’ been like, the first line of defense, you know?”
Arlene looks distraught the more he talks, and Steve feels guilty for making his mom upset. He’d hoped he would have made her feel better, knowing he’s had adults on their side at least, but somehow he thinks he’s made it worse.
“Good God, baby…” she sounds winded, “how–how have you not called me for help sooner?”
“You’ve been busy, Mom,” he shrugs, “I’m okay, and you’ve got your own life. I don’t want to bother you with the trivial stuff.”
“None of that is trivial!”
He flinches.
“Baby!” He blinks in shock as warm palms fit smoothly around his cheeks, staring into his mom’s desperate teary eyes, “baby, nothing I do is more important than you, especially not if you need help.”
“I–”
“There’s nothing I can do about it now, it’s too little too late, but, please, Baby Bear,” she pleads with him, a frantic tone in her voice, “tell me next time, never assume it’s trivial, because I promise you, it isn’t.”
Unbidden, Steve feels tears well up again. He hasn’t cried this much since he was a kid, but he supposes it’s fitting now that his mom is back, bringing with her that feeling of safety he’d thought had vanished along with the warmth of his childhood summers in Italy.
“Okay,” he warbles, “O- Okay, momma, I promise.”
“Good,” she nods her head once, a jerky, emotional motion before gingerly focusing her attention on wiping the stray tears from Steve’s cheeks.
“C- Can we go sit now? If you still want to know about everything?”
“Yeah, Stevie-bear.��� Arlene steps back away from him, her hands slipping from his face to his shoulders, sliding down his arms slowly, soothingly. Her delicate, manicured fingers gently encircle his wrists, holding him so softly with just the slightest pressure against the beat of his pulse. He smiles at her, feeling the way it wobbles on his lips in time with the tumultuous emotions roiling in his gut. She returns it in kind and together they head back into the living room, hand in hand. 
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Steve is half expecting Eds to be waiting for them like an eager puppy, all bright eyed and bushy tailed, but they aren’t greeted by his enthusiasm at all. Steve’s anxiety rises immediately and he darts away from his mom, bee-lining to the couch since that was the last place he saw Eddie. His heart calms when his eyes settle on the form of his sweetheart, curled around the blanket he snuggles under with Steve most nights, his nose buried in the folds and making soft huffing breaths in his sleep. Steve deflates, leaning heavily against the couch as the relief washes over him. He’s helpless to resist the urge that rises, reaching out and running his fingers through the beautiful boy’s hair, pushing it out of his face and tracing the shell of his long, tapered ear as he tucks the dark curls behind it. He knows how soft his expression must be, glad that his back is to his mom, because he doesn’t think he can stand her teasing right now. Eddie purrs quietly in his sleep, pressing into Steve’s touch and it pulls him back to reality. He straightens, turning back to Arlene. 
“Um, I’m going to sit here,” he tells her, aware his face is completely giving him away, but determined to not let it bother him. He squares his shoulders.
Arlene simply smiles warmly at him, pushing the armchair closer to the couch and settling into it, tucking her legs underneath her as she waits for him to get himself situated.
Steve exhales, looking down at the sweet, half-monster curled so cutely on the couch. He makes a quick decision and prays his mom won’t razz him too much for it.
He sits on the middle cushion, pulling one of the decorative pillows up against his side as a bolster before reaching over towards Eddie. Gently, he hauls the larger beastie towards him, eliciting some quiet grumbles but once Eds seems to understand that Steve’s thighs are to become his new pillow, Eds quiets quickly, purring loudly in pleasure and snuggling in, rolling over and pressing his face against Steve’s stomach. Steve sinks one hand into Eds’ hair, the other falling between his shoulder blades, skirting around the edges of where he knows Eddie’s wings lay flat against his back. He runs his fingers through dark curls, scraping blunt nails across his sweetheart’s scalp while Steve’s other hand rubs tender circles of delicate pressure against the knobs of Eddie’s spine through the yellow sweater he’s stolen from Steve’s closet. The purring sound increases in volume, the weight of his sweetheart doubling across his lap as the beastie goes boneless from Steve’s attention. 
“He’s very telling, isn’t he?”
“No,” Steve sighs, “he’s just affectionate, I think.”
Arlene scrunches her brow, “Really? Stevie–”
“Eddie died, mom.”
The sharp inhale he hears makes him squeeze his eyes shut as old pain rises to the surface. He hates thinking about it, but it’s the reality. Eddie is like this because he’d died in the Upside Down, and they’d–he’d–left Eddie there to rot.
“We… Spring Break,” Steve chokes out, “was the most recent incident. A- A girl was killed in front of him, mom. He- He had no idea about any of it before then, you know? He’d just run this dorky little nerd game club that the boys I babysit for are nutso about, and he was- he was in the wrong place at the wrong time. I think he was trying to help her, really. Wrong way to help her, with drugs, but I mean, his heart was in the right place.”
Steve chuckles, tugging a little on Eds’ curls and pulling a soft whine from his throat, the sound smothered in the fabric of Steve’s shirt. He barely catches it, but the vibration against his stomach makes him shiver with want. He stuffs it down, because now isn’t the time for those kinds of thoughts, but he logs it in his memory for later.
“Anyway, she- she died really awfully, mom. Like, body-horror awful. He ran, and I don’t blame him. It made it look like he’d killed her, though, which fucking blows. Hop and the government spooks are working on clearing his name, but we don’t know how long that’s going to take. Anyway… turns out what killed this girl in his home in front of him is tied to the shit that’s been happening since ‘83. We all got roped in, and well… in the end, we had to uh, split the party. He went with Dustin–” he looks up at his mom, brow furrowed, “I’ve told you about Dustin, right?”
Arlene smiles at him, eyes soft and incredibly sad through all the fondness scrawled across every inch of her face.
“Yeah, Stevie-bear,” she says, kindly, “you have. You said he’s like the little brother you always wish you’d had, even if he has… Oh, what did you say? Ah, right,” she chuckles, “the biggest ego you’ve ever seen.”
Steve snorts, “Y- Yeah, that’s Dusty, alright. Um, yeah. So… Eddie went with Dust, they were the distraction, cause there were these other things that uhhh–basically they were trying to block us from stopping the evil guy who we’d been calling Vecna or One… and they did, but something went wrong. So to protect Dustin, he–”
Steve chokes on his emotions, fear and nausea rising in his throat as memories of finding Dustin wailing over Eddie’s corpse bombard his mind, filling him with grief all over again. He has to focus on not hyperventilating because fuck, Eddie’s right here, in his lap, breathing and alive–changed but alive–and while he’d left Eddie behind, Steve had gone back, he’d gotten Eds out of there, he’d gotten Eddie out of Hell. He exhales, shaking.
“To protect Dustin, he made the sacrifice play… and he’d not made it.”
“Oh, Stevie…”
He feels the tears spilling, can hear the agony in his mom’s voice, the empathy in her tone, sympathy oozing on every word. He sniffles, roughly wiping his face with the back of his hand, laughing humorlessly as the tears continue to burble down his cheeks, fat and unrelenting.
“I- I’d had to drag Dust off of him… off his corpse, mom. He- He was kicking and screaming, his ankle was broken, and he didn’t care, he just–” Steve chokes on another sob, “–he just wanted Eddie to be alive, and there I was, dragging him away from- from one of the only other older male figures in his life. And- And I had to leave his body there to rot.”
Arlene is on her feet between one heartbeat and the next, falling onto the cushion beside Steve and wrapping her arms around his shoulders, holding him tightly and rocking them gently back and forth. He sobs.
“I- I had to leave him behind, mom!”
“Shh, Stevie, shhhh…” she soothes, her voice broken and threaded with sadness, “it sounds like you didn’t have a choice, baby, you’re just one man.”
“I- I should have tried harder, mom! I should never have left him there!”
“Oh, baby… oh my Baby Bear, no…” Arlene chokes out, her arms trembling where they clutch tight around him, “It’s not your fault, and I guarantee Eddie would tell you the exact same thing if he was awake right now.”
Steve breaks.
He falls apart, crumbling into his mom’s embrace as she holds him, quietly murmuring wordless comfort. The weight of Eddie’s body across his lap is grounding, and it keeps him from completely disconnecting from reality as he weeps, clutching Arlene’s button front so hard he’s almost afraid he might tear holes into the fabric. His mom’s fingers thread into the hair at the nape of Steve’s neck, stroking with firm passes that make him go boneless with a pained whine, his face sticky with salt from all the tears he’s cried as he buries it in his mom’s shoulder. He feels a tight pressure around his waist, and he lifts his head from where he’s had it smashed against Arlene’s body, looking down to see that Eddie has wound one of his arms around Steve, snuggling in close and deepening his sub-vocal purring noises to the point that Steve can feel the vibrations strongly through his skin.
“I had a lot of time to get to know Eddie today, Stevie.”
Steve lifts his gaze, turning swollen, teary eyes to his mother’s face. She looks determined, a stubborn set to her jaw that makes Steve sit up and listen, because for all that his mother is playful and kind, she’s also fierce and refuses to not be taken seriously when the situation calls for it. 
“Not a single thing that he told me has led me to believe that he would for a single second allow you to go on thinking that his death was in any way your fault.”
“But–”
“Nor would he allow you to beat yourself up for leaving him behind. I’m certain that he understands that you had to decide between a corpse and a living person–between his dead body and Dustin, who if I’m not mistaken, you both adore–which he would agree is a no-brainer decision, Stevie.”
“I–”
“Steve.”
He swallows, blinking away the remnants of tears at the fierce tone in his mom’s voice.
“Eddie is a kind boy. He would hate that you’re beating yourself up like this. And he’s back now, isn’t he? If I know you,” she says, raising an eyebrow, “and I like to think that I do, you probably went back for him, didn’t you?”
Speechless, all Steve can do is nod. Arlene sighs, hanging her head.
“Steve,” she says on an exhale, “that decision alone is… it’s amazing, incredibly kind and thoughtful. You went back to collect a body, I’m assuming, to bring closure to a mourning family and to a boy you love like a little brother. How am I doing so far?”
“P- Pretty good, actually,” he chuckles humorlessly.
Arlene hums, “Figured. So when you went back, what did you find?”
Steve takes a deep breath, collecting himself. She’s amazing at this, refocusing the conversations when they deviate off the ideal pathways. It’s something that makes her an excellent businesswoman–distracting anecdotes don’t work on her.
“Um. He wasn’t human anymore. Eds was… he was basically a feral monster. But- But I took a risk, and it… it worked. He recognized me, and um. I think he imprinted on me or something?”
“Oh?”
“Y- Yeah, he got, uhh. Really affectionate? Um, didn’t want to part from me, liked to be touching all the time, very protective.”
“Animalistic, would you say?”
“Y-Yeah, that’s a good way to put it, I guess.” Steve agrees, nodding, “He seemed to run almost exclusively off of like, instinct or something, and it wasn’t human instinct. Whatever happened to him down there, it mutated him into whatever he is now.”
His mom’s face twists slightly in a disagreeing expression, “He’s not that mutated, Stevie. A little different maybe, with the ears and tail and claws, but it’s not completely inexplicable or unable to be concealed.”
“It was… it was worse, before.”
“What do you mean, worse?”
Steve exhales, dropping his gaze back down to the sleeping sweetheart sprawled across his lap. His fingers tighten in their hold within dark curls, pulling a thick, needy sound from Eds’ throat that’s thankfully muffled into Steve’s shirt. 
“I mean… it was more obvious that he wasn’t–isn’t–human anymore, mom. He didn’t look even remotely human when we found him. He walked on four legs, his face was more bat-like than human… hell, you’ve seen how big he is. I thought he was going to kill me at first, but…”
“But he didn’t.”
Steve shakes his head, a melancholic smile tugging the corner of his lips upwards, “Like I said, he recognized me, or something, and bonded with me somehow. The affectionate nature just… never left, and he’s been really tactile ever since.”
“So, if he was more–” Arlene’s words are cut off by the dinging of a timer. He looks in tandem with her to glance through the doorway into the kitchen, before returning his gaze back to her face.
“... are you cooking something, mom?”
“Ah, shit,” she says, clapping her hands on her thighs and standing with a quiet grunt, “Yeah, I was. I was actually teaching your boy there the patented Chiara family bolognese before we started drinking.” 
Steve’s heart flutters wildly in his chest, because that’s…
“Mom…”
She smiles at him, a knowing look in her blue-green eyes as she raises an eyebrow at him, “Stevie, the poor thing was eating Spaghetti-Os. What kind of Italian-American would I be if I didn’t offer to feed him?”
“Fair point,” he laughs quietly, resuming his petting through Eddie’s soft curls, looking down at the boy in his lap, “but you… you were teaching him..?”
Arlene shrugs, “I just get the feeling that this one wants to stick around, Baby Bear,” she says as she turns and walks away to the kitchen, no doubt to check on the bolognese. 
Steve chews on his lower lip after she leaves the living room, wishing horribly that he knew what the two of them had talked about while he was at work, or what his mom had seen in Eddie that makes her so sure of him. The Chiara family recipes are a closely guarded secret, and he knows how tightly she holds them, how fiercely she protects them. That she was so willing to share the family recipes with Eddie, it seems impossible. She’s said before that she would share them with his future wife, but he’s definitely not made a marriage announcement. (Although it’s not like his overly-romantic hard-and-fast heart hasn’t imagined it already… Maybe she’s considering it good-as, because technically actual marriage is illegal for people like them–like mom and himself?) Steve shakes his head and waits for his mom to come back, focusing on the happy rumbles coming from the sleeping beast in his lap.
Arlene saunters back into the living room five minutes later, smelling of delicious meat sauce and humming with satisfaction. She settles back into her armchair and smiles at Steve.
“So. Where were we?”
“Uhhh,” he blinks, “we were talking about how I found Eds in the Upside Down.”
“Right,” she nods, “you said he bonded with you, or something of that nature and became affectionate and tactile, and that hasn’t faded.”
“Yeah.”
“You mentioned that he was… hmm.” Arlene trails off, her brows furrowed as she clearly searches for the right word, “Monstrous when you found him, correct?”
“Mmhm, yeah. He didn’t even really look human, his hair was more of a mane and his face wasn’t even remotely human-shaped, he kinda had a bat-like smushed nose. And like, two sets of ears? Giant talons and huge wings, his tail was even way longer and stronger too.”
Arlene squints, “So then, how exactly did he start to look more… human?”
Steve smiles, “That was all Dustin.”
“Oh? You let Dustin see him?”
“Of course I did. I knew he would be safe, Eds loves Dust just as much as I do. Plus, he did really well with Wayne so it seemed perfectly alright to let the little shithead come over… besides, I didn’t really want to let him go on hurting and mourning Eddie’s death if he didn’t have to, you know? It really messed him up, mom. I hated seeing him like that… it was like he’d lost a huge part of himself, and here I had a way to help him heal from that wound.”
His mom’s eyes are soft, her lips pulled into a gentle smile that’s dripping with love and Steve squirms under the weight of her gaze, heat rising up his neck and making his cheeks blotchy with embarrassment.
“A- Anyway,” he stutters, “Dust figured out he’s some strange variation on a vampire, and so we tried feeding him blood to test the theory. It worked, and so since then I’ve been feeding him my blood, which has been helping him regain a more human appearance.”
“Your blood?”
“It’s not very much! I don’t even get, like, dizzy after he feeds!” Steve raises the hand that’s not buried in Eds’ hair, waving it frantically, “It’s barely even like donating blood–I don’t think he takes anywhere near a pint every time he feeds.”
“Okay… and you’re being safe, right?”
“Mom, this… this isn’t like The Crisis, okay?” he whispers, “And even if it was, I’m not stupid enough to take any chances with my own health or his, I promise.”
“Ellsco headquarters might be in Boston, but I’ve already watched a few of my friends just… disappear, and I’d…” Arlene squares her shoulders, “I would hate to watch my son fade away like that. I just want you to be safe, okay? Do you know… do you know how to go and get tested, Bear?”
He nods, “I- I read about it in a zine I got from Indy.”
Arlene nods once, decisive, “I’ll go with you, if you want to get it done while I’m here.”
Steve smiles at her, wobbly and grateful, “Okay, mom. That’s weird, getting tested with your mom, but… I’m grateful.”
“We can make a day of it,” she says, waving a hand and settling back in her armchair, “get some breakfast somewhere, get the testing–I should get my testing updated, too, honestly–and then just shop around and enjoy ourselves!”
“Ah–but, what about Eds?” Steve bites his lip and looks down at the sleeping boy, “I don’t think I’d be able to just… leave him behind all day to go have fun without him.”
“Hm,” Arlene hums, “well, we can wait a bit, of course. Oh!” her eyes brighten as a devious smirk spreads across her face. Steve’s heart races in his chest as his nerves blare alarm bells in his head.
“Mom… what are you…”
“I bet I could just con Owens into doing it for us.”
“MOM!”
“What? The asshole owes me.” She scoffs and tosses her head, a childish pout on her lips, “He tried to keep me from my own son, what absolute gall.”
Steve snorts, “Okay, okay. Alright, mom.”
“Plus, wouldn’t it be better for Eddie’s blood to remain with someone we have leverage with, rather than some random lab people who might report any abnormalities?”
“Wait–you’re including Eds in our weird little mother-son testing day? Mom!”
She shrugs, “Well, isn’t it better for you to know now? I mean, if you two are gonna be–”
“SHHH! MOM!!” he whisper shrieks at her, his face flaming.
“What?” she blinks, false innocence across her face as her lips threaten to break into a cheesing grin, “He’s asleep, he’s not listening.”
“Jesus H. Christ, you can’t just say that!! Besides,” he grumbles, “just because I like him doesn’t necessarily mean that he likes me, even if he has been really tactile and affectionate, okay?”
Steve hears the sound of skin slapping against skin and he looks up at his mom, brows furrowing at the sight of her with her hand pressed over her face. She groans, the sound pained and he wonders if she just smacked herself in the forehead or something, which is pretty unlike her.
“Uhh, mom? …You okay?”
“Peachy,” she grouses out. “Stevie-bear, light of my life; I adore you, but sometimes I want to shake you until your head flies off.”
“Um.”
Arlene peels her hand away from her face, leveling Steve with the flattest look he’s ever seen her shoot him before. She heaves a great sigh, shaking her head.
“You’re pretty convinced he’s not interested in you like that then, Stevie?”
“I mean…” he swallows, his blotchy blush filling in further as more heat floods his face, “I would be really happy if he were interested, but… I don’t, um. I don’t think he is? He’s been physically affectionate, but from what I’ve heard from Wayne, I don’t think he’s like us.”
She arches an eyebrow, “You know sexuality is fluid, so why are you being so rigid with him? Who’s to say that he couldn’t be interested in you?”
Steve chews on his lower lip, fidgeting with his handful of Eddie’s curls, “You’re… you’re not wrong, I guess. But, it sort of feels like I’m forcing my feelings on him when I think about it like that, you know?”
“Not really, Stevie.”
He huffs, a puff of air blowing stray bangs back off his forehead. “It’s like I’m taking what I want to see in him and forcing it to be the truth, even if it’s really not, confusing my own desires with what’s actually there.”
“Mixing fantasy and reality?”
He snaps, pointing at his mom as she puts words to his thoughts. “Yes! That!”
Arlene sighs, “I suppose I can understand falling for the straight person. It’s definitely happened before, and I’ve only seen you two interact very briefly, but…” she trails off, lips pursed and brow furrowed. Steve watches his mom carefully. It’s telling how selective she’s being in choosing her words, it’s obvious she thinks she knows something, and again he wonders just what she and Eds talked about while he was at work. 
“I mean, you saw us interact while Eds was drunk, mom.”
She waves him off, “In vino veritas, Stevie.”
He rolls his eyes at her and waits for her to finally come up with what she wants to say.
“I don’t think it’s as far from reality as you think it may be.” She says quietly, fixing him with a serious look, “He clearly adores you, and the way he spoke about you when we were talking felt like it went beyond just friendship to me.”
Steve’s heart stutters in his chest, that tiny flame of hope sputtering and sparking where he’s kept it safe behind his ribs.
“I don’t think it would be completely far-fetched to maybe consider testing those waters a bit more, Stevie. If you really like him the way I think you do,” she raises an eyebrow as his blush darkens, “then you should maybe show him more. Turn up the charm, give him more of a taste of what you have to offer.”
“I–”
“Steve, Eddie is a sweet boy.” She says this as a statement, like she knows it’s a fact, and it soothes something deep in his brain–some anxious doubt lurking around at the edges and making him feel off kilter. With the easing of it, the ground beneath his feet is no longer lurching, suddenly stabilized and solid once again. 
“I spoke to him a lot today and I can confidently say that you wouldn’t lose him if you were to admit any feelings. Or if that’s too much too fast for you, just being more obvious about how you feel about him wouldn’t end with him outright rejecting those advances. Hell, you might be surprised.”
“But…”
“Stevie,” Arlene interrupts him, leaning forward in her seat, “you should just do what you want, okay? Just, treat him like you would if he was just one of the girls you dated before.”
“He’s so much more than them, though…”
“Then show him that, Stevie.”
He swallows, nerves alight with possibilities as that tiny flame grows just a little stronger where it remains safe in his heart. Hope bubbles in his chest, feeding it steadily as he contemplates what his mom has just told him. She’s more experienced in this sort of thing than him, he has to admit–queer romance is out of his wheelhouse, as this is his first actual attempt. And he’s terrified still, but there’s a thrill that runs through his veins now that wasn’t there before, beating in tandem with the pulse of the flickering flame behind its ivory cage. 
“You- You really think I should? That I- That I have a chance?”
“I do, Baby Bear. I really, really do.” She says, a smile spreading across her face, “I just want to see you happy, and it’s so obvious how happy he makes you, even now.”
“Thanks, mom.”
“Any time, baby. I love you.”
“I love you too, momma.”
Arlene flops back in the armchair, gusting out a breath, “Lord almighty, I am emotionally drained right now, you take years off my gay little life, Stevie, I swear.”
“H- Hey!”
She cackles, an ugly braying donkey laugh that makes Steve warm with nostalgia. He joins in after a moment, his own burbling chuckles spilling out of his lungs. It’s nice, sitting with his mom and his sweetheart in the living room, just spending time together. The two of them chat quietly, Steve stroking Eds’ hair as he finally fills her in on what has happened in Hawkins since ‘83. A lot of what he tells Arlene upsets her, but she takes it all in and handles the shock well. She migrates over to the couch from the armchair somewhere in the middle of his retelling of the events at Starcourt, and holds his hand tightly as he talks, his voice shaking. By the end of the events of Spring Break and what he knows about the whole Russian rescue mission and the California crew’s cross country adventure, she’s holding him tightly. She solemnly promises to be more involved in his life from now on and he pretends not to notice the way her tears soak the shoulder of his shirt or the way she has to forcibly collect herself afterwards. 
Arlene transitions their discussion fluidly into an easy chat after she’s finished asking questions about the Upside Down and all the crazy shit tied to it, keeping the discussion mundane as she fills him in on some of the upcoming projects Ellsco has taken on. A lot of her work is confidential, but not all of it is as the Fortune 500 company has its fingers in lots of pies–she relishes in telling him about a few passion projects that haven’t required her to sign a thousand and one NDAs. She tells him how Gramma and Grampy are doing, how Grampy is enjoying his partial retirement now that she’s taken over. She also mentions reconnecting with his uncle Ben–Steve would swear his mom had a sister, not a brother, but he’s probably just remembering wrong–and how they’d met up on one of her business trips to Miami a few years ago by chance. It’s wonderful. Steve finds himself relaxing as they converse easily back and forth, sharing the parts of their lives they’ve missed over the past few years.
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Steve is alone in the living room again, Arlene having just gone into the kitchen to check on the bolognese a final time, enjoying the quiet as he cards his fingers through dark curls, lightly dragging his nails against the skin of Eddie’s scalp in the tranquil atmosphere. He feels the body laid across his lap begin to stir after a time and he casts his gaze down to the boy he’s been playing pillow for, a smile tugging at his lips.
“Mmn–” Eds grumbles, his voice heavy with sleep as his strong arms squeeze around Steve’s middle, “–S’vie?”
“Good morning, lazybones,” Steve murmurs in reply, chuckling. “You awake now?”
Eddie blinks open bleary hickory eyes, drowsy and clouded as he turns his gaze up at Steve; twisting from the prone position he’s adopted, splayed across Steve’s thighs. His jaw cracks in a wide yawn that exposes his sharp fangs and long tongue before he buries his face against Steve’s stomach again, humming happily.
“M’wake,” Eddie mumbles, “y’r warm…”
“I’m warm?” Steve snickers, tugging gently on a small handful of curls in his amusement. The action pulls a thick sound from Eds’ throat, yanking at a burning thread of desire deep in Steve’s core that he steadfastly ignores in favor of releasing his hold on Eddie’s hair. “I’m flattered, but you’ve been sleeping for a few hours now and dinner is going to be ready soon. Aren’t you hungry yet?”
The face Eddie makes in response is cute; all pouty and crinkled in his disapproval. He’s clearly not in favor of moving off of Steve. “I’m–”
The sudden rumbling of Eds’ stomach cuts him off, the sound well timed and harmonizing with the gurgling of Steve’s own stomach when it makes itself known moments later. Eddie jolts away from Steve’s body, the dramatic reaction pulling a laugh from Steve. The embarrassment that scrawls its way across Eds’ face is plain to see in the pink flush that colors his cheeks and the bridge of his nose, reaching even the tips of his pointed ears. It’s unbearably cute–he wants to nip at them.
“I… I guess I’m kinda hungry,” he admits, shyly looking away from Steve.
“Hm,” Steve drawls, smiling fondly at his sweetheart, “I mean, I’m pretty hungry too. Mom told me you helped her make the sauce, so I guess I’m pretty excited to see how it turned out. Especially since you had a hand in it.”
That pretty pink flush goes darker to Steve’s delight, and he eagerly watches as Eddie fidgets in place, absurdly pleased that he doesn’t try to move out of Steve’s space. He loves how close they are, all pressed together like this. He’s starved for touch, and Eds’ is his favorite of all. It always feels like a dream and sometimes he has to remind himself that no, it’s reality. He’s just this lucky. 
“Arlene did most of the wo- work,” Eddie mumbles, “I just th- threw stuff in the pot and st- stirred it sometimes.”
“That’s still helping, silly.” Steve chastises kindly, “It counts.”
Eds looks up at him with huge hickory eyes, sparkling and wide, gleaming with hope. “It… does?”
“Mmhm,” Steve nods, unable to contain his fondness–all the love he has for this boy. He can feel the way it colors his smile, the way it pulls at the edges of his eyes, the way his shoulders slope in Eds’ direction like he can’t bear to turn away from him. He thinks about what his mom said about him, how she doesn’t think he would lose Eddie if he confessed… how she thinks he could easily get away with upping the ante, so to speak. He chews the inside of his cheek, excited anxiety brewing in his gut at the thought of turning up the charm–of wooing the man he wants, the way he wants to.
There’s a lot that could go wrong if he did decide to really start turning on the charm with Eds. So far, he’s just tried to- to be nice… to be kind to him; to be a safe harbor when Eds feels anxious, and a place he knows he can come to rest his head when the world feels too big, too mean, or just too much. Nothing he’s done so far falls within the typical big displays of romance, but that’s okay because it’s the tiny acts of devotion that Steve loves best. He loves being able to do things for his partners, to show them how much he adores them, how often they cross his mind. He does things for them without a second thought because he wants to make their life easier, he wants to ease whatever burdens them if only for a short while–he wants to integrate himself into their life in any way he can, even if that means he’s only there in the capacity as a meat shield or a workhorse. If he can make himself useful, helpful, to them… that’s enough for him. 
He always wants to do more, of course. He wants to pamper, to take care of them, but he’s been accused more than once of being overbearing; of being needy–of being clingy. He smothers those urges as best he can, because he’s learned that it’s not what most people want from him. Does he hope that one day he’ll find someone who will indulge him in those urges? Yes, of course. But he’s aware it’s far fetched and selfish. But with Eddie it’s so hard… with Eddie, he’s greedy. He wants all of it–he wants to wash his hair, wants to cook his lunches, his dinners. He wants to hold him in his arms on the couch and watch bad TV until he falls asleep, and wants to make him feel safe when he wakes from nightmares of monochrome skies and unfriendly landscapes. He wants to take care of him, to help him regain his human appearance so he has a chance to return to society, a chance to be himself amongst other people again. He wants to see Eddie spread his metaphorical wings again, prance on the cafeteria tables of the world and take them all by storm–he’s a force of nature and to see such a beautiful creature caged and forced behind closed doors is a tragedy he refuses to see play out any longer than it has to. He will not clip those metaphorical wings, no matter how badly he wants Eddie to stay with him.
What’s the saying? If you love it, let it go?
He’ll just have to hope Eddie will want to return to him when his shackles are finally shattered.
Take a chance, hope that his mom is right. The risk is worth the reward, after all.
Steve smiles down at Eddie, finally releases the tenuous hold on his control. He feels it when his smile easily slides into a far more flirtatious territory than he’s previously allowed it to venture with Eds; a smile he’s only ever used on women he’s wanted to date before now. He gently grasps Eddie’s chin, the firm grip pulling a stuttering breath around fangs and from between plush, parted lips as Steve lifts his half-monster’s jaw to force their eyes to meet. He watches with a hungry gaze as hickory eyes widen, as he leans in closer until his nose just barely brushes against his sweetheart’s. He can feel the way Eds’ breath quickens; hot against his cheek, ghosting against his own mouth. It’s tantalizing, but he can be patient… it will be worth the wait. Steve knows how to play this back-and-forth game of seduction and desire, and he’s going to play it right with Eddie. He’s a clumsy flirt in front of other people and cheesy beyond belief, but sometimes he hits the correct notes and he thinks he’s got Eddie’s number right.
“It does count, sweetheart,” he rumbles out, his voice heavy and deep with desire. “Did you know,” he adds, conversationally, like their proximity isn’t boiling the blood in his veins with want, “that no one aside from my mom or my Gramma has ever cooked for me, before?”
“N- No- No one?” Eddie breathes out, his voice no louder than a whisper as he stumbles over his words. Steve relishes in the way his inhuman pupils have dilated, the way his breathing has gone ragged, heavy in the meager space between them. Steve licks his lips, immediately clocking the way Eddie’s gaze locks onto and tracks the path his tongue takes with something like wildness behind those dark, hickory eyes.
“No one,” he replies, his lips just barely brushing against Eddie’s cheek as he speaks. He can feel the way the skin of his neck tightens while Eddie swallows; hears the clicking sound his throat makes at the action. Steve feels alive in a way he hasn’t in a long time. He’s forgotten how fun it is to flirt when he really wants someone–when there isn’t an audience to make him embarrassed about the corny lines he tends to spew.
“You’re my first, Eds.”
He pulls away from Eddie after his statement, doing his best to hide how affected he is by the starstruck look on his half-monster’s face. Steve feels like he could fly because holy shit, mom was right? The way Eddie sits there, eyes wide and dark, breathing raggedly with the prettiest of blushes coloring his skin from the tips of his pointed ears all the way down his throat to where his collar bones disappear into the collar of that stolen sweater. The delicate color highlighting the planes of his skin is… it’s gorgeous, and Steve wants to sink his teeth into the curve of his neck, wants to bite and leave marks along the angles of his jaw. Eddie looks dazed, one clawed hand clutching at his chest, rising and falling rapidly beneath it as he stares at Steve with glossy, wet eyes like he’s seeing him anew; a deity made flesh, something to worship in reality. His lips are still parted, plush and glistening–begging to be kissed, and it takes all of his willpower to resist, but somehow, miraculously, he manages. Eddie looks like a dream, a temptation demanding to be ravished, and ohhh, how Steve wants.
Instead, he gets up off the couch.
He relishes in the keening whine that tears out of Eds’ throat as he steps away, putting more distance between them, allows himself to delight in the surge of pride that swirls in his gut as Eddie sways unbidden in his direction, instinctively trying to close the distance without realizing he’s even doing it. He can’t help the smug way his flirtatious smirk pulls up on one side at the way Eds’ hand flexes on nothing, desperate to touch that which Steve has taken away. Seeing all of it painted in technicolor before him is the greatest gift he could receive and he feels settled–assured that he’s making the right calls. Because, yeah. Yes, he’s absolutely going to take this leap of faith. 
Eddie is worth the fear, the unknown, the potential loss. He’s worth everything.
And so far, it’s looking like his mom was right in that he’s playing a winning game.
He’s got nothing to lose, but everything to gain.
“Well?” he says, raising an eyebrow at Eddie and making a “come hither” gesture with his index finger, “Are you gonna come with me, eat the dinner that you made? Or are you going to languish alone on the couch all night?”
Eddie shakes his head frantically, a squeaking sound tumbling from his mouth as he all but throws himself off the couch and stumbles to his feet. He’s all baby-deer legs and Bambi-eyes as he scrambles to get to Steve’s side; all flailing limbs and pinwheeling tail, desperately trying to counter balance his lurching weight. Steve starts walking backwards towards the door to the kitchen, never taking his eyes off his awkward sweetheart. He lets Eddie get close, lets him think he’s won, lets him think he’s caught Steve–but it’s a ruse and Steve swiftly slips out of reach. It’s a fun little game, and he enjoys the tiny noises of frustration that slip from Eds’ throat when Steve manages to just evade a grasping claw, keeping barely out of Eddie’s range as they slowly make their way towards the kitchen.
When his ankle catches on something on the ground Steve’s eyes widen, his heart lurching in his chest with momentary panic. He pauses, looking down to spot the stray blanket that somehow managed to make its way into the pathway to the kitchen. He jerks his gaze back to Eddie when he feels a strong, talon-tipped hand grip his shirt. The sudden impact throws him off balance, and with the way the blanket hooks around his ankle, he flings his arms out in an attempt to steady himself. He ends up digging his fingers into the meat of Eddie’s arms, but his body’s momentum seems to have caught them both off guard because the next thing he knows, he’s hitting the ground–although the ground feels softer than he remembers?
He blinks open eyes he doesn’t remember closing, staring down at the dazed, flushed face of his half-monster. Those huge eyes are hooded and dark, as his breath comes hot and panting. His talon-tipped hands clench where they rest against Steve’s sides, just above his hips, and one talon has slipped beneath Steve’s shirt, grazing the skin of his flank. 
Oh.
Steve flushes, because fuck Eddie looks delicious like this and how they got there is… he must have spun them mid fall to take the impact, since he’s so much larger than Steve is. Bigger and yet so… so submissive, so docile, so sweet.
Shit, that’s really hot… and also stupidly precious.
Eddie stares up at him, blinking hazy hickory eyes, and Steve finally realizes how close their faces are. His breath shudders in his lungs, because oh god, he wants to take Eddie apart, to hear him whine and cry and fall to pieces beneath him–
“Wow. Either you’re the fastest moving guy on the planet, or you’re just some sort of klutzy flirting savant, Bear.”
The sudden, amused comment delivered with such dry humor yanks a surprised yelp from Steve. He jolts upright as his most-hated blotchy blush spreads across his face and down his chest, and he glares at his mom where she leans with her arms crossed against the door frame to the kitchen. She looks smug, tapping the wooden spoon she holds in one hand absently against one arm, a “told-you-so” expression smeared across her face.
“Mom!” he barks, embarrassment oozing from every pore. He’s about to yell at her to go away, but he snaps his mouth shut when he clocks the quiet, pathetic mewling that’s coming from Eddie. The sound sends a rush of molten heat down his spine and Steve jerks his head downward, his gaze locking onto the boy he has pinned under him. His eyes widen at the absolute vision beneath him, greedily taking in the way Eddie’s chest is heaving, a furious flush coloring his cheeks and throat, his head tossed to the side. His hands have dropped from Steve’s hips to the carpet–one is clenched between his fangs in a meager attempt to muffle his noises. Only then does he finally notice the way his thigh is pressed hard against the zipper of Eddie’s jeans, and–
Ohhhh. He’s–
Fuck.
Steve swallows and slowly pulls his leg away, a muffled, gasping whine tumbling from around the finger in Eds’ teeth, between his parted lips, soft but not silent. Steve can see the way those denim-clad thighs tremble, the way the claws of his other hand sink into the carpet pile, skin across his knuckles taut and locked with tension. And… And Steve did that to him… just by—
—Jesus H. Christ, that’s so fucking hot I’m going to die and my mother is right there goddamnit—
“Mom… we’ll be there in a few, okay?”
“Okay,” she drawls, amusement in her tone, “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
“Oh my– fucking, shoo, woman!”
Cackling, Arlene retreats into the kitchen. “Spaghetti’s almost done, better hurry up!”
“Okay, mom! Jesus!”
Steve sits back on his heels, giving Eddie some space to calm down as he drops his head into his hands, completely embarrassed at being caught in such a compromising position by his mother. He groans to himself, because goddamnit, everything had been going so well up until then, too! He hadn’t made a fool of himself yet, his flirting was going great! He’s a cheesy, corny dork, but it’d been working! Playful, fun… and then he’d had to go and trip over a fucking blanket like a dumbass–
“Steve..?”
He jolts upright, staring at Eddie with wide eyes. “You okay?” he immediately asks, chewing his lower lip. He’s honestly more concerned about whether or not he crossed a line with the whole… knee-to-dick-accidental-frottage than anything else.
Eddie blinks at him, clearly stunned, before a shy smile spreads across his face along with the darkening of his delicately-pink blush. He tugs a chunk of his curls in front of his mouth, averting his gaze as he pulls his shoulders up. “I- I’m okay. A- Are you hurt?”
“No, no, Eds! Not at all, thanks to you catching me like that…”
Eddie preens a little, shifting in place as his flush darkens further, “Couldn’t let you get hurt…”
“Well, I don’t want you to get hurt, either. Okay?”
Eddie nods, “M’okay. Promise.”
“Good.” Steve nods back decisively before chuckling. “Well, now that we’ve both embarrassed ourselves in front of my mother, ready to go get bullied by her while we eat delicious food?”
Eddie’s grin is wide, exposing all his fangs in all their glory as he nods. “Yes!”
Steve stands up and extends a hand down to Eds with a smile. “Well, then what are we waiting for?”
Eddie takes his hand, his grin softening as he looks up at Steve with a tender affection that makes the little flame behind Steve’s ribs grow just a little bit more.
Yeah…
Steve thinks to himself later, his heart full to bursting as he watches his mom and the man he hopes to build something with interact like they’re already family.
…the risk will definitely be worth the reward.
Nothing ventured, nothing gained. 
I’d be a fool not to try.
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GO STEVIE!!! YOU GO GET YO MANS!!!!
hello everyone i am deceased, my ghost is writing this.
fucking hELL these past checks calendar NINE days have been actual literal nightmare fuel jesus h christ on a fucking unicycle i would like to sleep for a thousand years now please and thank you.
anyway! this ended up being uhhhhh. longer than i predicted. but hopefully that makes up for the wait. we're gonna get into some more meat of this bad boy in the next installment i think, but we'll see if it doesn't run away from me hahaha
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I also have a list of folks who didn’t ask specifically to be tagged for future installments, but have been extremely enthusiastic about the story from the beginning based on their reblogs and/or replies to the posts. So if you’re on that list, unless you tell me otherwise, I'll continue putting your name in the replies. You can also follow the story tag, which is #Take Me Home steddie fic where you might find my posted sneak peeks or wip updates in between the actual parts, or you can even just follow me, @hobbyistauthor for all my nonsense!
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hitlikehammers · 1 month
Text
whole wide world
rating: t ♥️ cw: criminal-levels of softness, rockstar!Eddie, teacher! Steve, gooey-clingy-heart-eyes Eddie needs his Stevie ♥️ tags: established relationship, rockstar!eddie, teacher!steve, rockstar husbands, amateur musicals, steve needs to stop using a ladder unsupervised because nothing bad happened this time but eddie is concerned that is the love of his life, soul-deep love, slice of life, softness
for @steddielovemonth day thirteen: Love is showing up when someone doesn’t ask ❤️ (@steddieas-shegoes)
look who's back, just like every other day, it's the rockstar husbands from je ne regrette rien being their codependent, desperately-in-love selves again! ♥️
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“Goddamnit,” Steve curses the staple gun, the dry-rotted wood he’s trying to use it on, the acrylic-covered tarp masquerading as a backdrop leaving little crackle-dust everywhere every single time it fucking falls because the wood’s shit, the staples are shit, his co-advisor’s kid’s sick with the flu, the kids are in the band room rehearsing the opening number and Steve really cannot fucking believe he got roped into this to begin with, actually, like, how the fuck did the middle school guidance-counselor-slash-study-hall-monitor get conned into helping with the high school drama club, just because one of his JV soccer players landed the lead and bemoaned loudly enough during laps how they didn’t know if they’d be able to make the performance even work, because the choir teacher’s on maternity leave and the band director’s kind of a dick, and the needed more help—
Steve only is even in the high school for the goddamn athletics office. For, y’know, the equipments for the athletes.
Yet: here he is. Standing on a rusty fucking ladder that probably needs a spotter, to be honest, and if Steve’s admitting that then yeah, it definitely needs someone holding the goddamn thing, but here he is, already two hours after the final bell, trying to stick a painting of mattressesin a stack that only vaguely looks like mattresses so thank god that’s in the show title—
The ladder wobbles a little when he tries to catch the tarp-thing again but he can’t reach far enough without risking a long way down to a very hard stage floor, so the backdrop’s sacrificed back to the ground—a-fucking-gain—as he shifts his weight to steady the steps and it’s a close thing, he’s about ninety-seven percent sure he’s aimed the teetering feet of it back to solid ground okay but he glances around quick just in case, tries to figure if there’s anything he can grab for and let the ladder go on its own if need-be, and—
“That’s fucking dangerous, big boy,” a deep, and deeply unexpected, voice trails up from the floor, clipped with stress, with fear because Steve fucking knows that voice, and the ladder’s suddenly fully steady so he can turn and look and—
“Gonna give me a goddamn stroke or something, finding you up on one of these all by your lonesome,” Eddie’s staring up at him, and the words could be teasing, and Steve thinks maybe they intend to be, but: those eyes are too big. There’s a pulse Steve can count in that throat, even from seven-feet-up.
So he does what any man in love with his husband would do in the face of said-husband in fear, and for him: Steve climbs down careful, but quick, with Eddie’s hands scrambling to make sure of the ‘careful’ part as soon as he can reach, and then he turns, and then he lands on solid ground again to pull Eddie in and thank every colleague of his he’d been cursing in his mind for leaving him alone to do all this shit, because alone is the reason he gets to kiss his lover hard, and full; wrap around him and let him squeeze Steve to the point where it aches, where it creaks in his bones, like proof.
Lets Eddie attach his lips to suck a bruise, possessive and needy and protective all at once along his throat, and yeah:
Exactly like proof.
“What are you doing here?” Steve asks when they pull apart just the slightest bit, because he wasn’t expecting Eddie to be home until probably close-on to midnight, let alone at the school well before five.
“Thought you could maybe use an extra set of hands,” Eddie shrugs like it’s a casual thing, showing up just to help out when he’s on a press cycle, and it’s evident even in his attire that that’s the case, if you know what to look for: more chains from his jeans, thicker soles on his boots just flirting with being platforms, at least two rings on every finger—save just one.
One has a ring, and a carefully-preserved and repeatedly-reinforced bread-bag tie: both serving the same purpose in very different points in their lives.
Point being: Eddie was wading through photoshoots and magazine spreads and radio spots and every fucking thing, and no matter how high he’s raising his eyebrow in a clear calling out of how he found Steve atop a shaky ladder as being obvious evidence of having use of an extra set of hands, the fact remains:
“But you’ve got the interview—“ the big ass interview with that shock-jock guy Steve kinda hates, but that’s a big fucking deal, and was the precise reason Steve wasn’t lamenting giving up his afternoon and evening to the at-least-halfway-to-lost-cause of the not-even-an-actual-full-fledged-theatre department: he wasn’t going to have Eddie home before bed anyway.
And yet: here stands the man.
“The boys have got it,” Eddie shrugs, like he actually doesn’t give a shit, and that’s…he does give a shit, he had sounded excited about it last night when they’d talked about their plans for the week over dinner, when Steve had bemoaned the travesty of this fucking production of Once Upon A Boxspring or whatever, and Eddie’d told him he was pretty sure he was going to be able to say fuck on the show even if they’d edit it, like he wouldn’t get in trouble, and he’d looked like a kid in a goddamn candy shop about it so yeah: Steve thinks he kinda did give a shit.
But he’s…not there.
“Gareth’s been itching to take the reins after he won out the final track list,” Eddie offers as explanation; “cocky bastard.”
And they collaborate on all the writing, music and lyrics, they’re not even the slightest bit competitive about it which would be hard to believe if all you saw of the members of Corroded Coffin were their goddamn shenanigans during a campaign; but the one think in their music that they docompete over?
Whose title-idea gets the opener on a given album. And Gareth did end up scooping them all when the execs came back with a shuffle. Steve had watched it unfold in real time; he doesn’t think he’s ever heard a grown man crow like Gareth had, and he is married to Edward fucking Munson.
So that’s saying something.
“Eds,” Steve tries to prod a little at the point of it all though, because Eddie’s got press, and this is a high school, and probably Eddie could get to the studio in time to catch the end of whatever, it’s prerecorded, he knows that much, they could squeeze a live interview in so they could probably do Eddie at the end and just shuffle it around, right, it’s easy, and that’s so much more important than this because this:
“Eds, it’s just a—“
“It’s the spring musical, baby,” Eddie says like he’s announcing the arrival of the president, of the Queen of England, then his eyes soften a little as he flicks at one of the real mattresses that will, presumably, be props for the actors if the show’s title isn’t a fucking lie: “you know that’s where my DM throne had its humble origins, before I elevated it to greatness?”
Steve did know that, not least because they’d smuggled Eddie in to DM a few special sessions before the gremlins graduated, and he’d taken his seat with regal aplomb every time, and Steve had learned that yeah, they used the random storage room that was mostly drama shit for Hellfire.
And the way he’d learned that was by sucking Eddie off hidden by some very ratty but very conveniently poofy ballgowns from a production of Cinderella.
“I missed you.”
Steve turns to him and blinks; Eddie’s eyes are on the mattress, his stance almost a little shy.
“You saw me this morning,” Steve doesn’t ask, exactly, but he…he’s not sure he’s following, is the thing.
“I was,” Eddie sighs, and flops to sit down on the mattress which, thankfully, is a mattress and gives a little, bounces under him.
“I was just feeling, I dunno,” he gives a shrug that fades into something like a shiver, and then Eddie’s arms come around too hug around his middle as he ducks his chin and, oh no.
None of that.
“I thought about you being, you know, you,” and Eddie gets to gesture at the mess of the stage only halfway before Steve’s catching his hand, lacing their fingers and pulling Eddie back up to standing, then back into Steve’s arms here he leans heavy, sighs deeper this time; relief instead of something shallow.
“Just you doing all this when you don’t even have a horse in the race, y’know?” Eddie muffles into the side of Steve’s neck, burrowed in tight. “And I was supposed to be in the zone about press and shit, and it just,” he shakes his head, which is more like the brush of his lips back and forth against Steve’s skin; “it wasn’t clicking at all, like I posed and did the looks and whatever,” and oh, Steve knows the looks, Steve has about half those looks printed out and framed in various parts of their home or tucked safe inside his wallet, whereas the other half he takes great joy in recreating at random to the chagrin of his darling husband, love of his whole goddamn life.
“Then Jeff asked if I wanted to duck out,” and Eddie smiles up at him, a little sheepish; they both know the boys can see right through Eddie feeling needy, or lovelorn; Steve’s grateful as shit for Eddie’s bandmates, their friends, for knowing when Eddie just needs Steve.
“I didn’t even think twice, just,” Eddie swallows hard, a little, peeking up through lashes and bangs as he exhales:
“Just wanted to see you before the middle of the fucking night.”
And what can Steve do in the face of that, really? He can’t argue it. Wouldn’t ever fucking want to.
“I love you,” he frames Eddie’s face and kiss the bridge of his nose, then soft between his brows as he breathes out with his whole heart: “so goddamn much.”
“Can you promise me you won’t do the,” Eddie tips his head behind them; “the ladder thing, at least not by yourself?” And Eddie’s eyes are so, so big again. “Like, pretty please, don’t do that again?”
“I won’t,” Steve swears it, and kisses him firm to seal the promise: “thanks for coming to the rescue.” Because there was a three percent chance Steve was going to wipe the fuck out from very very high, and he’s have survived it, but he’s not twenty anymore, and it would have fucking sucked, probably for a while.
“Always, baby,” Eddie murmurs, still tight against Steve lips before he straightens a little, and this time he’s framing Steve’s face, but more holding him still in place, emphatic:
“Actually, amendment,” he says seriously, eyes darting between Steve’s a tiny-touch frantic: “next time you need to be on a ladder, you call me first,” he damn-well declares it, rather than asks; “so I can hold it steady.”
“My hero,” Steve breathes against him with a smile, and there’s not even a hint of teasing in it.
“I don’t trust any other hands to catch you, baby,” Eddie tells him, a little too raw; full sincerity bleeding from him all the sudden as he caresses down the cheeks he’s still cupping: “no one else in the whole wide world appreciates what you’re worth.”
“And what’s that, exactly,” Steve scoffs a little, playful where he’s held in Eddie’s arms but Eddie: Eddie’s holding him tight, now, and his heartbeat’s heavy where he’s moving to crush Steve to his chest, and there’s a little wavering pitch of something in his voice when he whispers:
“The whole wide world,” and oh.
That’s the answer.
It’s Steve’s answer, too, to the same exact question, but hearing it said so plain never stops feeling like the ending and remaking of the whole wide world, every time.
So yeah, Steve has to take a minute to swallow through the tightness in his throat, and maybe he does that with his forehead bowed against his husbands so they breathe each other in as a rule just in the course of living in the moment, together—and when the straighten up Steve steals a kiss first, quick but hard, with feeling, before he cracks his neck and sighs, taking in the scene that’s settled around them.
“Help me try and figure this out to hang?” Steve kicks at the tarp-tapestry, and Eddie walks its perimeter critically before frowning up at Steve.
“Think it needs some touch ups,” he pronounces solemnly, and fuck, yeah, all the color-dust from the useless staple-holes and the falling. But his husband’s actually really good with details, and matching colors, and using a brush, and fantasy settings—
“Paint’s in the back,” he says with a lilt of suggestion and Eddie lights up and grabs Steve’s hand to drag him toward the promise of painting, like maybe all he needed really was just…this.
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