Part 3 of the Sad Steddie Scenario. Thank you to everyone who left comments, likes, and reblogs on the last two parts! They all made me so happy.
Tag list - so many people asked to be tagged, which I was so grateful for, and I’ve tagged as many of you as I could (on this post and I’ll follow up with more that I couldn’t fit in a reblog, but that will be tomorrow because it is very late/early, and I am very sleepy), but it was really overwhelming, so I won’t be adding anyone else (if you’re already on it, I’ll keep tagging in future parts unless you ask me to stop). I’ll tag future installments with “steddier things: sad steddie scenario” if you’d like to follow that.
Someone asked if I would put this on ao3, and I likely will. I’d want to expand it, clean it up, make it more cohesive (I’m writing by the seat of my pants now). So, we’ll see!
Part One, Part Two
Previously on: Steve met the Corroded Coffin crew and it did not go well, resulting in a blowout fight with Eddie. Robin and Steve put their heads together to figure out why. No answers were to be found.
CW: alcohol mention, vomit mention, and uh, fair warning, it does not get happier yet.
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Date night, Eddie’s POV
After Steve speeds off in a hail of gravel, Eddie stalks to his van, ready to tear out of there. If his van wasn’t such a piece of shit, he’d go on a joyride around Hawkins, terrorize the locals and work out this adrenaline. As it is, he just wants to find an empty field where he can scream and scream and scream.
But when he tries to open the door, he realizes he left his keys back at the table next to his drink. He’s always doing that - he’s got too many stupid trinkets and baubles and random fucking keys he finds on the ground that he just has to stick on his key chain. They weigh his pants down so he’s always fucking leaving them everywhere, goddammit. He slams his hand against the van door. If he was feeling just a modicum more self destructive, he’d jimmy open the lock and hotwire it, but he knows how stupid that is.
He heads back inside. The music assails him as he opens the door, and normally he’d be into the rage and passion of tonight’s bill, who, despite being a local rival, Eddie normally likes, but tonight their voices are screeching, their guitars discordant.
The guys have their heads together around the table like a bunch of gossiping biddies. Eddie steels himself before walking over. They look up when he steps up to the table, not even pretending they weren’t talking about him and Steve.
“Well,” Gareth says, bitchy and smug. “That went exactly as well as I expected it to.”
“Fuck off, man.” Eddie snags his keys, shoves them in his pocket. He wants to leave, but someone’s gotten him a new beer and alcohol sounds pretty good right about now. He takes a sip, sets the glass back down harder than he needs to. “It might have gone okay. I don’t know what the fuck was up with him tonight.”
Gareth rolls his eyes. “What did you think was gonna happen, Eddie? Did you think he was going to come here and pal around with us and we were all going to be best friends?”
“No, but—”
“Good, because that was never going to happen.” Grant and Jeff nod in agreement. It pisses Eddie off. Maybe Steve hadn’t been at his best, but the guys barely gave him a chance to be anything else. All they did was talk about DnD, and maybe Steve was a little more…disengaged…with Eddie’s friends than Eddie’d hoped he’d be, but seriously what was he supposed to contribute to that conversation?
Eddie had been planning this meet up for weeks. Sure, Steve saw the guys when he picked the kids up from Hellfire, which they held in Gareth’s basement now that school was out, but their interactions were comprised of a few tight-lipped smiles and nods hello and goodbye if the guys came out of the house at the same time as the kids. But Eddie wanted them all to get to know each other, be friendly if not friends. Steve had been all for it, but the guys had been giving him shit about it nonstop. Eddie’s furious that it turns out they were right, but he’s not going to let them gang up on his absent boyfriend without a fight.
“Why not? Because you think he wouldn’t be friends with freaks like us? His two best friends are literally a band geek and a 15-year-old who wears Weird Al t-shirts. He doesn’t think he’s too cool for us.”
Jeff scoffed. “Man, he couldn’t even get my name right.”
“I tried to talk to him about his DnD character,” Grant chimes in. “But he couldn’t tell me anything about it, not even what class it was.”
That happened just before King Steve had decided he was done being nice to the plebes. After five minutes of the guys asking him questions and him responding with “What?” or, “Sorry, Eddie knows more about that,” or just straight up silence, Eddie was already on edge, embarrassed. So when Grant had asked what class his character was, and Steve had just shrugged and said, “Uh, Rogue…I think?” He’d looked at Eddie for confirmation. Eddied had almost lost it.
Steve’s character was a Ranger, and Eddie’d spent the better part of an hour helping him decide on the class and the backstory so he could join a new one-shot campaign Eddie was putting together. But his friends don’t need to know that.
“Why would he even remember that?”
“Because you said you spent an hour with him one night coming up with it.” The smug look is back on Gareth’s face. Oops. Eddie forgot he’d told him.
“He wore a Polo shirt,” Jeff says, despairing. “A Polo shirt, Eddie. To The Hideout!”
Eddie lets out a growl of frustration. “Literally who cares! They’re just clothes!” He is not a violent man, but right now, Eddie wants to hit something.
Gareth holds out a placating hand. “It’s not that we care what clothes he’s wearing, Ed. We care that you two don’t have anything in common. We care that he showed up half an hour late to hang out with your friends for the first time. We care that you try to bring him into your interests, and he doesn’t respect them.
“Yeah, you went through this shared trauma, but how long is that going to keep you together? The dude couldn’t even bother to learn the name of one of your best friends.”
“Besides that,” Grant says. “He’s a bully.”
“He’s not a bully, no. No.” The guys all object loudly to that.
“Okay, okay!” Eddie says. “Maybe he wasn’t great in high school, but he didn’t bully you. Name on thing that he’s done to any of you. Personally.” Eddie’s eyes roam over them. “You can’t, can you?”
“That’s not the point, and you know it,” Gareth says.
“What’s the point then?”
“If he’s bullied any of us, any freaks like us, then he’s bulled all of us. That’s something you said.” Gareth’s right in his face now, pokes him in the chest, keeps his finger pressed there. Eddie lets him, because he did say that, and more than that, he believed it. But whatever Steve had been in high school, Eddie knows, in his gut, that he isn’t that now. Except. Except what was tonight then?
Eddie shakes his head, denying the truth of what they’re saying. He can’t be here anymore. He gulps down the last of his beer, pats his pocket to make sure he’d grabbed his keys, and says, “Fuck it, I’m out.” The guys don’t try to stop him.
—————
Their disaster of a date was on Friday night. Eddie doesn’t call Steve on Saturday. He doesn’t call Steve on Sunday. He doesn’t call Steve on Monday. (Steve doesn’t call him either.)
By Tuesday, Wayne’s fed up with his stewing. He nags Eddie into taking a shower and eating dinner wit him. Eddie lets him, because he could use his uncle’s perspective on things, even if Eddie knows he’s not too keen on Steve at all.
Wayne listens quietly as Eddie relays his perspective on the evening, including everything the guys said after Steve left as he and Wayne chow down on microwave mac & cheese with hot dogs cut up in it. At the end of Eddie’s recitation, Uncle Wayne’s brow is furrowed. Eddie cringes.
“I know it sounds bad, but he’s not normally like that. He’s not a bad guy, Uncle Wayne.”
“Hmm.” Wayne contemplates his empty bowl. “Did he know how important this night was to you?”
Eddie shrugs. “Yeah. I mean, he knew how excited I was about it, so I think so.”
“Did he make an effort to talk to your friends?”
“He bought them a round?” That had to count for something, right? But Wayne snorts derisively.
“Sounds like a Harrington.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Always throwing their money around,” Wayne waves a hand as if to demonstrate. “His daddy was the same way. You don’t need to make an effort if you’ve got enough money.”
“Come on, Uncle Wayne, he was doing something nice.”
“Hmm.” Before Eddie can get up from the table and start pacing at Uncle Wayne’s less than illuminating response, Wayne puts a hand on his shoulder, holding him there, serious. “Ed, listen. If he is as good as you say he is, I’ll try to believe you. But I look at him, and all I can think is,” he has to stop, not choked up, not quite. But whatever he is, it makes Eddie reach up, place his hand over the one on his shoulder. Squeeze.
“All can think is, if he hadn’t been involved in whatever happened, would he have hunted my kid down too? Would he have been whipping the mob into a frenzy right next to that Carver boy?” Eddie’s shaking his head no, but Wayne barrels on. “Because I know his parents, and I know his type, and you telling me all this doesn’t make me think any better of him.”
“He’s a good guy, Uncle Wayne. I promise.”
“If he’s a good guy, why isn’t he here apologizing?” It’s the same question Eddie’s had since Friday night. Steve had fucked up, why wasn’t he groveling at Eddie’s feet? Did he not…did he not care? But that’s not a thought Eddie’s been able to face for very long.
“I don’t know, maybe I should be apologizing to him.”
Wayne eyes him sharply. “Did you do something worth apologizing for?”
“He got mad about something at the end of the night. I don’t know what it was. But he was really mad.” Wayne loses the sharpness at that, rolls his eyes.
“And he couldn’t be bothered to tell you why?” No, no he couldn’t. Wayne shakes his head. “Sounds like you’ve got some decisions to make, son.”
————
Eddie’s got two days before the next Hellfire meeting. Two days before he won’t be able to avoid seeing Steve. He thinks about telling Dustin to let Steve know Eddie will drive them all home, but he’s still trying not to be a runner.
So for two days he thinks on it and thinks on it and thinks on it. His mind keeps coming back to one thing. One stupid, small thing. Steve hadn’t remembered his character was a Ranger. That time with Steve, coming up with his character, teaching him about the characteristics of all the different classes, figuring out the backstory, rolling for his stats. It had meant so much to Eddie. It was silly, small, maybe. But he’d been so pleased, so happy to be sharing this with his boyfriend. And Steve hadn’t remembered it.
Fuck. Fuck. Maybe everyone is right. If the Upside Down is what brought them together, what holds them together, that’s not enough to last. And Eddie’s only 20, he doesn’t need something that will last forever. Except he almost died and life is so short.
So when Tuesday rolls around, and Steve’s parked his car at the curb in front of Gareth’s house, Eddie follows the kids out. Steve gets out of the car and approaches Eddie as the kids head past them, not paying attention to the weighted moment unfolding. Eddie sees Steve open his mouth, but Eddie has to say this quick or he won’t say it at all.
“Listen, man. I don’t think…I don’t think this is such a good idea anymore.”
Steve’s mouth snaps shut, his brow scrunches up. “What, me picking the kids up from Hellfire?” A commotion behind them makes him turn around.
“Hey, hey, break it up - Mike, Lucas, you’re in the back. Dustin, up front but no gloating, I mean it! God fucking dammit,” he says, turning back to Eddie. Raises his eyebrows in question. “What were you saying?”
Can’t even be bothered to pay attention to me breaking up with him, Eddie thinks meanly. Guess I don’t have to worry if I’m doing the right thing. He doesn’t notice the way nervous way Steve shifts on his feet, or the way his hands tap-tap-tap against his thighs to hide the fine tremor running through them.
“Fucking—it’s been fun, Harrington, but I think we both knew this wasn’t going to work out, and Friday night just cemented it. Let’s quit while we’re ahead.”
“Are you serious?”
Eddie can’t make himself say yes, can barely make himself look at Steve. He nods once, short. A muted crash comes from inside the Beemer and Steve turns to look at the kids who are engaged in a slap fight across the seats. When he turns back to Eddie he looks…lost.
“I’ve got to drive the kids home,” he says, and he sounds bewildered at the fact. “Fuck, I’ve got to—” he breaks off, sucks in air.
“Steve?” His eyes snap to Eddie’s and Eddie flinches. He’s never seen Steve look like that. Bleak, hopeless. Eddie wants to vomit. He did that. He put that there.
He wants to take it back. Haha, it’s a joke, see? Aren’t I such a goofball? Silly Eddie Munson, always joking around. But his tongue is thick in his mouth and the words won’t come. Instead, he reaches out, needing to touch his boyfriend, help him. But as soon as Eddie’s fingertips brush Steve’s arm, Steve comes back to himself. His eyes sharpen and he steps quickly away. “I’ve got to drive the kids home,” he says again, firm.
He doesn’t waste any time heading back to his car, rounding the front and slipping inside. He yells something at the kids, starts the engine, and they’re gone.
Eddie presses his hand to his mouth. “Fuck.”
—————————
In the car, Steve grips the steering wheel, knuckles white. Lucas, Will, and Mike are in the back talking game strategy, but Dustin sits quietly next to him.
“Steve?” he says, voice small, smaller than Steve’s ever heard it. “You’re crying.”
Steve puts a hand to his cheek and oh god, he’s crying. He didn’t know. He didn’t—He scrubs viciously at his face.
“I’m fine, bud,” he says, the least convincing lie he’s ever told. “It’s just allergies.”
Dustin looks like he wants to argue, but Steve jerks his head ‘no,’ a plea, unwilling (unable) to tell Dustin, who loves Eddie, who might love him a little less if Steve gives him details. Steve couldn’t bear it.
For once in his life, Dustin listens. He turns to the kids in back and joins in their argument. Steve turns the radio up and drives.
*******************************************
Part Four
Tag list (if you asked to be tagged and you don’t see your name here or in the reblog with more tags (which I will likely add tomorrow, it is very late and I am very sleepy), it’s very likely because the tag didn’t work when I tried it. Idk if that’s a setting folks have turned off on their blogs or what)
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