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sp0o0kylights · 5 months

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Steve Harrington was wearing a Hellfire t-shirt.

It was far too tight on him, the name of the club stretched wide over his chest. The sleeves dug into his biceps, making them pop even more than they usually did, and that was before he crossed his arms.

Worse?

It was short.

Which meant the damn shirt was constantly riding up to give everyone a nice show of the smattering of hair that trailed down past the band of Harrington's jeans.

The same hair that Eddie was determinedly not looking at.

“Henderson, a moment?” He crooked a finger, a smile on his face that was more feral than welcoming.

Rather than cower or even acknowledge that Eddie was two seconds away from murder, Dustin just gave him a gummy grin, all too pleased with himself and his scheme.

“Sure Eddie. Steve, don't just stand there, go help set the booth up!” Dustin gestured to Hellfire’s sad little table, crammed all the way in the back of the gym.

Jeff and Gareth both reacted to the suggestion like a rabid squirrel had been set upon them, nervously inching towards the other side of the booth as Harrington sighed and--shockingly--did as he was told.

‘What,’ Eddie thought angrily, ‘in the everloving fuck.’

“Do you guys mind if I set this down on the table?” Eddie heard Harrington ask as he stormed away, Dustin on his heel.

They wandered just around the corner, out of sight and hopefully, out of the fallen king’s hearing range.

Eddie wasn't sure if Harrington would try and white knight the very much deserved dressing down he was about to give.

Didn’t want to chance it, considering the downright weird relationship he had with Hellfire's freshmen.

(While he’d heard many a tale at his table regarding King Steve since the newest recruits had joined Hellfire, most of them dissolved into arguments without ever really going anywhere.

Best anyone could figure out was that Dustin and Lucas had a bad case of hero worship, while Mike owned a begrudging amount of respect that hailed from a series of misadventures.

The very same misadventures that, despite all protests to the contrary, was clearly some sort of babysitting gig for Harrington.)

Either way, plenty of the King’s court would have loved to take this opportunity to fuck with Hellfire.

Given that Henderson was absolutely too old to require a babysitter at fourteen, Eddie would bet his lunch money that was what Steve was here to do.

Something the club couldn’t afford since they were forever and always two seconds away from being stripped of club status and banned from school grounds.

“I would love to know what went through that all A’s brain of yours when I said,” Eddie whirled on Dustin when they were firmly in the clear, voice low and furious. “no Henderson, do not invite King Steve to help, he is an invading force and would ruin our peaceful kingdom!?”

He clasped his hands behind his back before leaning into Dustin’s face. “Because clearly whatever you heard wasn’t that.”

To Eddie’s continued frustration and confusion, Dustin did not treat this like the threat it was.

None of the freshmen had ever truly treated Eddie like a threat--had somehow skipped that part of the usual onboarding ritual entirely.

Eddie, town freak and drug dealer, who had cultivated his looks and craziness to such a degree that most everyone steered clear, wasn’t used to it.

Everyone had been afraid of him at some point in this shitty school. Jeff, Gareth, hell even half the staff--and that the dorky trio of fourteen year old's clearly thought this all was play-acting made his eye twitch.

Even if it was--maybe, sometimes--welcome.

“I know what you said, but I’m telling you I’m right.” Dustin argued immediately, and oh God, he was using that tone again.

A hand went up into the space between them and Eddie groaned aloud, knowing what was coming.

“First,” Dustin ticked a finger up, “Hellfire really needs the money. Even thirty dollars would get us new figures, but more than that, if we don’t fundraise, we can’t go to Gen Con!”

Dustin's eyes bored into Eddie’s, full of fire and conviction

“Yes,” Eddie said through gritted teeth, “but--”

“Second!” Dustin cut him off, and God the little shit even threw him a look while he did it, like Eddie was the one being ridiculous here!

“We had to fight just to get our table! Principal Higgins was in algebra today practically begging the mathletes to show up, but then tried to tell us we couldn't be here? That’s messed up!”

As if denying them a spot to fundraise was the worst thing that asshole had ever done.

Eddie sighed, breath blasting out of his mouth like a dragon’s.

“Because people think we’re freaks and satanists, Henderson. You don’t typically invite freaks and satanists to the school’s annual Holiday Bazaar. Especially not when all the local moms are paying to hawk their bullshit crafts and tupperware!”

It was more than that of course. The Hawkins High Holiday Bazaar was a tradition spanning several years now. Starting in the gym and spilling clear into the parking lot, everyone from local artists to even some local shops came to host a small table for the day, thus growing the event from a small school fundraiser to a Hawkins' “must-do.”

Half the fucking town was here to sell, and the other half was here to shop, which meant Principle Higgins had wanted Hellfire banned from the fucking premise.

Eddie had been forced to pull out one of his trump cards he’d been saving--blackmail on Higgins that related to the man’s not--so--legal addiction to Percocet that he relied on Reefer Rick for.

(And bless Rick, that hadn’t been the only tidbit he’d shared with Eddie about Higgins. That information, however, Eddie needed just so the asshat wouldn’t give him the boot from school entirely.)

The only reason Eddie had pulled it out to secure their rightful spot, was because of Gen Con.

It was Hellfire's White Whale, their grand adventure, and this was going to be his year to take his friends on one last epic quest to make memories of a lifetime surrounded by people who understood them.

Come hell or high water, Eddie was going to Gen Con--but being able to fundraise by selling wares and baked goods at the stupid Holiday Bazaar would go a long way to help.

Even if he had to listen to the band repeatedly play ear-bleeding renditions of Christmas songs.

“All the clubs get to have a table, and we’re a club!” Dustin continued, like it was that simple. “But you know, I get it. We look scary.”

He gestured down to his own Hellfire shirt, before gesturing towards Eddie’s entire outfit.

Like Eddie didn't know what he looked like, let alone that he'd made this outfit specifically to scare people away from him.

(And maybe add some rockstar flair to this dinky little hick town.)

“You know who doesn’t look scary?”

Dustin held out his hands and swiveled his body like he was presenting a prize instead of gesturing in the vague direction of;

“Steve!”

Eddie’s left eye twitched.

‘You can't kill him, you need his character for the campaign.’ He told himself firmly, even if he envisioned strangling Dustin like a chicken.

Cartoon squawking and all.

“The King isn’t going to help us fundraise, Dustin.” Eddie said, in an effort to break down why Harrington couldn't be here. “He's just going to cause us problems that we can’t afford to have.”

So many problems, half of which Eddie couldn't think of because if he did, he'd start spiraling.

“Really? Because as you keep saying, Steve used to be the King. People love him, Eddie! Mom’s love him.”

Eddie had pulled himself black up to his proper height a while ago, and now rocked back on his heels while he ran a hand down his face.

There was no getting through to Henderson when he was like this.

Not unless Eddie really lost it, and it was practically club lore that he only lost it when someone missed an important game.

One cannot keep a herd of sheep if their flock is terrified of them, after all.

(“Perhaps you’re just a giant fucking softie.” Tiff, one of Hellfire’s graduating members, told him once. “Honestly dude, I bet you throw up stuffing.”

“Shut up Tiffany, your choker is on backwards again.” He'd spat back, completely offended and not at all trying to distract from how true that was.)

“We can’t be satanic if Steve’s the one selling cookies!” Dustin finished doggedly.

“We’re not even selling cookies--that’s not the point!”” Eddie shook his head, hair flying. He was not going to be sidetracked, he wasn’t!

“Harrington is going to end up siding with all the moms about how we’re all wasting time with D&D, if he even spends the whole time at the table. Is that what you want?”

He stuck out a ringed finger, poking at Dustin’s chest.

“Every single person who comes by our table has to be convinced D&D is a writing and math based game. Good for the mind and souls of growing, impressionable children. A game that got a bad rep because of a few silly images.”

A pitch he and Tiff had come up with during the third or fourth time they had to convince an adult that no, just because their shirts had a dragon on it, didn’t mean they were summoning demons in the drama room.

“Harrington can’t do that because Harrington doesn’t even know how to play!”

This Eddie punctuated by throwing his hands in the air.

Given the startled look of the mother-daughter duo passing him by, clearly was louder than he’d intended--but screw it!

He was right!

Hellfire was in a precarious position to both fundraise and do a little damage control among the slightly smarter members of this shithole small town, and Harrington rolling his eyes and gossiping about how stupid it was would hinder that.

“Okay, first of all, Steve’s played D&D with me and he didn’t even kill his character.” Dustin said it like he was unveiling a smoking gun and not lying through his ass--which Eddie would absolutely be calling him on the second he was done talking.

Because King Steve? Play D&D?

'Ha!'

“And he’s not gonna say shit because we--me, and Lucas and even Mike!--asked him to help, and he helps when its serious. I know you have some weird grudge with him, but I’m telling you Eddie he’s our golden ticket to Gen Con!”

“You’re killing me. You are standing here, acting as a friend, when you are bringing a-- a dark force into the midst our of mission--” Eddie hissed, because he was losing the fucking fight and he knew it.

Dustin Henderson was not a man easily swayed.

Had never been, even when the odds were stacked against him (and Grant and Gareth were howling in his ear.)

The set of his shoulders and the glint of the little shithead’s eye meant Eddie wouldn’t be able to use him to oust Harrington--if he even could get him out without the dick causing a massive scene anyway.

As always when outgunned, Eddie flipped to dramatics.

“Betrayed! By my own chosen heir no less!” He moaned, pressing the back of his hand over his eyes as Dustin scoffed.

"Don’t be so dramatic! Steve will help, I promise! Just don’t be a dick to him.”

Conversation apparently over, Dustin turned around to head back to the table

Snidely, he added over his shoulder: “Plus we’ve all caught on to the heir thing Eddie. You tell everyone that so they do what you want.”

The dick.

“You’re too fucking smart for your own good. I’m gonna start feeding you paint chips to bring that IQ down.” Eddie muttered angrily as Dustin went back to their little table.

He gave himself a moment to get his shit together and stomp a foot like a child when Dustin was around the corner and thus couldn’t witness it, before following his wayward sheep back.

Could only pray to any deity listening that Henderson’s meddling didn’t blow up in Hellfire’s face.

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sp0o0kylights · 1 year

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armed your words with explosive devices and put the trigger on your tongue.

I never know if a kiss will kill me.

It's a joke.

Or at least, Eddie meant it as one.

He was flicking his hand out with the intention of pretending to "push" the weight off Steve's shoulders, following a joke about how he looks like he's carrying the whole world on his back.

Beyond the general air of a frazzled single mother, Harrington had been down to clown. He'd laughed at Eddie's first few jokes, even made a poor attempt at making one back.

So it surprised both of them when Steve flinches back, hard, sucking in a noisy breath.

For a moment he holds it in and Eddie mimics him, hand frozen midair.

They breathe out almost together as Eddie slowly lowers his hand.

"Steve." Eddie starts off, voice soft.

Steve jams his hand in his hair, face flushing red. "Sorry man, jock reflexes."

He catches the second Steve forces a smile back on his face, the way his desperate attempt at tugging on his own hair changes into a move designed to fluff it up. A laugh makes its way out of Steve’s mouth and to his credit, it sounds natural.

This, Eddie realizes with an abrupt clarity, is Steve caught wrong-footed in public. This is Steve being off and fixing it before he breaks down.

It��s a good cover, excellent even, and if Eddie hadn’t been watching for the signs, if he hadn’t started looking closer and closer at Harrington after finding him drunk and bloody in Tina’s bathtub, he might have brushed it off.

Thought of it as Steve being a jerk, a jock, a guy who didn’t want to touch the filth that was Eddie Munson and was now trying to hide it.The same way so many others did, because they’d learned the hard way that a pissed off dealer won’t sell you any drugs.

Eddie could even see him spinning this as having an off day. Maybe Steve was sore, maybe he was annoyed, maybe he was six other million things that he’d lead you to believe.

Worse than knowing that he’d have bought Steve’s cover though, is that Eddie recognizes this.

Has seen it before.

Or micro versions of it.

In class, when Steve’s asked a question he doesn’t know. In the hallways when someone tells a joke about his parents. In the parking lot when those kids snap at him, rolling their eyes and throwing their hands around.

Even the one basketball game Eddie attended, during his ill-fated attempt at joining the yearbook club before he finally started Hellfire.

There had been a moment where Tommy had briefly turned on Steve, got some of the other boys to snap and snarl at the King in the face of a bad score.

Called him stupid.

Spineless and gutless.

(Steve hadn’t even been the captain, back then.

They held him responsible anyway.)

Eddie had thought it well deserved--even funny at the time-- considering what made up a man like Steve Harrington.

Get big movie star hair, combine with no parents, and add tons of money. Shaken and stirred with little bits of never-ending popularity and girls swooning left and right over him, and you got Hawkin High’s most popular guy.

Good to buy you whatever you needed, with a famously sharp tongue that he used in place of his fists.

Grant still had nightmares over some of the names Steve had nailed him with.

He was the school’s most desired bachelor until Nancy Wheeler took him down, proved even kings could be cheated out of their kingdoms.

(One of the teenagers at the famed Starcourt fire, a hero in the papers for saving half a dozen kids. The pictures the news still occasionally shows often pin up those pictures of Steve, wearing this exact smile.

It’s the same one he’s wearing now, as Starcourt burns in the background of each and every photo..)

The realization comes with a flood of knowledge--that Steve knows how to hide his issues, that he’s had issues for far longer than whatever--or whoever--is beating him up.

Longer than Eddie himself had caught onto too--and Eddie had prided himself on seeing through people’s bullshit.

If he does what Steve wants, let’s this drop, Steve will go on acting like everything’s fine.

Just like everyone else does.

Eddie can’t do that. Has never been able to do that.

"We both know that's bullshit." Eddie says, and he knew calling it out would get a reaction, but he’s not expecting the sheer strength of it.

How Steve looks like he’s taken a punch, mask breaking fast on his face to reveal the hurt underneath.

"Don't--" He tries to start, tries to breathe again and Eddie's not sure what caused it, but he knows the beginning of a panic attack when he sees one. “Don’t, please--”

It’s the please that gets Eddie, the word sounding bruised. Like it hurts Steve to say it, that he only uses it as a hail mary that it may somehow help ward off whatever is coming.

Eddie fights not to put his arms around Steve.

Protect him from whatever the hell is happening.

"Hey." Eddie says, softly but clearly. "I’m sorry. Tell me what I did and I won’t do it again.”

They’re in the middle of the school parking lot and neither of them can afford to misstep here. Not in a town like Hawkins. Eddie has a choice to make--to sweep Steve to somewhere safer, or to give space, back off so the younger man can regain control of himself and pick this up later.

Steve takes a shuddering breath, hugs himself and bows his head.

Eddie wants to go to him, to touch and comfort, but instead just hovers ever so slightly closer. “I’m here.” He whispers, just loud enough for Steve to hear.

Steve takes the moment he needs, and Eddie knows he can at least give him that. Shield him from any onlookers with his own body. Use himself as a distraction if anyone comes up.

His cheeks are wet when Steve raises his head. He wipes his face, bites his lip.

It takes far less time for him to return to normal than Eddie would have ever thought, but then Steve Harrington keeps surprising him.

“Shit.” He says, voice in a sort of croak. He clears his throat once, harshly. “Sorry.”

“I set you off, this ones on me.” Eddie says, keeping his voice smooth and calm. “I don’t want to push you, but I need to know what I said to upset you, so I can prevent it from happening again as best I can.”

Steve looks up for a moment, away from him. Eddie allows it, acknowledges the move as Steve gathers the strength to face whatever hurt him enough to send him spiraling. This isn’t an easy thing he’s asking, and they’re in the worst place to do it--a potential audience can appear at any time.

Eddie doesn’t want to lose this thread, though. Knows instinctively, how important it is.

“It’s stupid.” Steve’s struggling to sound more normal, but the real surprise is that he’s starting to manage it. “It’s so stupid, but it’s--the word.”

Short-term memory recall isn’t exactly a talent of his, but Eddie’s had plenty of practice with D&D. He runs the conversation back, and there’s really only one option that makes any sense. He almost says it again, but catches himself.

Thinks quickly on his feet.

“Adult male cow crap?” He says, and tries to make his tone a little light. This is a calculated risk, Steve may very well believe he’s being mocked or teased.

The younger man snorts a laugh and thankfully doesn’t appear to take offense. “Yeah.” He drawls out, a tinge of embarrassment flushing across his nose.

It’s fucking adorable, and Eddie has to bite his lip to keep interrupting, inappropriate thoughts at bay.

“Nance--when we--” Steve huffs an annoyed sigh, arms having shifted long ago to more of a defensive cross, nails digging into his sleeves while he taps his foot, aggravated. “It’s fucking stupid man, but that word got tossed around.”

“Got it.” Eddie nods his head. “It’s gone.”

“You shouldn’t have to do that.” Steve says, and it's got an angry undertone to it. “I need to get over it anyway. It’s been long enough.”

The anger, Eddie decides, is self directed.

He cocks his head. “Do people tell you to do that a lot? To just get over it?”

Steve finally looks at him and to his credit the guy’s managed to go from actively falling apart to merely appearing cold and annoyed, as if the redness in his face itself is trying to help hide his emotions.

That hurt thing flickers in and out of his eyes though, covered by an edge of something else, something stubborn.

Yet again, Eddie finds himself wondering if he’s found Steve’s limit. If this is when he finally gets pushed away and threatened over all the things that have been revealed to him. Steve hasn’t made that move yet, but Eddie thinks that's mostly because Eddie keeps catching him off guard.

To be fair, his own reactions are, at times, catching him off guard. This defensiveness of Steve, the way he wants to go slam whoever has hurt the younger man into a wall, to try and make everything better for a guy he previously hated…

Eddie knows what’s gotten into him. It’s his own personality, combined with his own inner sense of someone lost and hurting. Someone who needs to be rescued.

He just never expected to have it pointed at Harrington.

“Maybe.” Steve admits finally. “Doesn’t mean they’re wrong though.”

Eddie can’t help himself. It’s a puzzle in front of him, dangled in the form of Steve and his weird injuries. Steve and his odd reactions.

Beautiful, gorgeous, straight Steve Harrington, who once pressed his cheek into Eddie’s hands and closed his eyes like he’d found a slice of heaven.

“Why?” Eddie challenges. He’s still close. Close enough that they’re going to have to pretend to be fighting if anyone else starts making noise. Eddie’s lost track of time entirely, can’t recall what period this is. Where he’s even supposed to be.

Hell, he never even asked why Steve was here.

Steve’s mouth opens and closes, like he had an answer but suddenly thought better of it.

He’s still tapping his foot.

“Why would they be wrong? ” And at first Eddie thinks Steve is turning the challenge back on him, until he clocks the confused crinkle in his forehead, right between his eyebrows.

Like a dog who just wants to be a good boy, and doesn’t understand why he’s being shouted at.

‘Eddie, for once in your fucking life, focus!’ He thinks furiously at himself.

“Because it hurts you. Because all of us “get over” things in different ways, at different paces.” He makes the quotes with his fingers, putting on a fun voice just to try and make even a small smile appear on Steve’s face.

It works, and Eddie grins despite himself and the seriousness of the moment.

“Doesn’t matter how stupid it is, Steve-O. Our brains don’t care.” He knocks on his own to make his point.

“I guess.” Steve says, and it’s not an agreement but Eddie will take it.

Will take anything Steve will give him, which just shows how badly he’s screwing himself.

Straight boys, even ones wrapped up in some kind of mystery and sprinkled with dozens of other things that catch Eddie’s attention like Steve’s his own personal brand of crack, typically don’t mean anything good for him.

This time, he just hopes it can mean something good for Steve.

Eddie might not know much, but he knows Steve deserves something good.

#steddie #hurt/comfort #angst #steve harrington #steve needs a hug #eddie munson #this is pre relationship #whumpverse #steve x eddie #pre S4 #or Alt s4 #this takes place like riiiight after s3 lol #0o0 fanfics #stranger things fanfiction

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