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#steve and nancy
loveinhawkins · 9 months
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The problem is that a part of Steve knows the spider isn’t real.
But it’s the suggestion of it, right? Cobwebs in his hair, movement just out the corner of his eye; it’s all enough to convince him that there’s something crawling on his skin, to let out a panicked whisper to Nancy, there was a spider. It’s a black widow.
He tries to disregard it as a one-off. It’s an old creepy house. Just got him spooked for a bit, that’s all.
But then… diving into Lover’s Lake. Bats biting into his flesh. Overwhelming dizziness.
Nancy wrapping torn strips of clothing tight around—there’s something crawling, crawling underneath his skin, no, there isn’t, no, there—a bike ride through The Upside Down; one hacking cough, pushing through it, pushing through it—
Swallows it all down. Ignores the sweat, the tackiness around his bandage. Shh. Calm, calm.
Drives the RV. Doesn’t know how he’s even moving, is just grateful—grateful that his mind on autopilot seems to still function.
The War Zone. In and out. Parked. Sun in his eyes. Kids outside.
The feeling comes back. Something. Something under his skin. (In his blood, in all of him—)
“S’there something in my hair?” he asks Eddie, who’s mid-step out of the RV.
Eddie turns back with an air of amusement. “Nope,” he says. “Looks perfectly coiffed to me, man.”
“Can you—can you just check?”
Look closer, something’s wrong, something’s wrong.
“Uh, sure,” Eddie says, bemused. He sits next to Steve and tilts his head before lifting a hand uncertainly. “You want me to, uh?”
“Yeah, thanks. Just… there was a spider on me.”
It’s not what Steve wants to say at all, but there’s a sudden, terrifying disconnect between the thoughts in his head and what actually comes out of his mouth.
“Oh, you don’t like them, huh?”
Eddie’s not even teasing, just sounds understanding; he lifts up a few sections of hair carefully, taking his time. He’s so kind. Steve abruptly wants to cry.
“Yeah, I don’t blame you,” Eddie continues. “I have the same thing with mice. The way they move. Creepy little feet.” He shudders dramatically.
Steve wants to laugh at that. Can’t.
Eddie runs his fingers through Steve’s hair a couple more times, gentle.
You don’t have to, Steve thinks. Make it hurt. Get it out. Did you find it? Please say you found it.
“Good news, you’re officially spider-free, Harrington.”
Eddie claps him on the shoulder, stands up.
Steve doesn’t move.
Eddie pauses again, halfway out the door. “Hey, you okay?”
“Yeah,” Steve says. “Just need some air.”
He goes through the motions of prepping for the fight. Chats with Robin. She talks about a terrible, gnawing feeling, and he wants to scream yes, I know, I know, but he can’t tell her, why can’t he tell her?
Shh. Calm, calm.
Drives the RV. Forest Hills.
He brakes with no warning, sends bottles of alcohol rolling across the floor. He’s mad suddenly that they didn’t smash. He’s so—
Slip away.
Eddie’s trailer. Lets himself in.
Bathroom.
The wound on his stomach pulses. He doubles over the toilet. Throws up.
His skin is crawling.
There, in the back of his mind, a creeping coldness. A thought that is not his own.
I will kill them all. And I will make you watch.
Oh, God. Oh, God, he’s been so stupid.
-
Eddie finds him first.
He picks up one fallen bottle of alcohol before a gut feeling pulls him out of the RV—because Steve Harrington is a good driver, and he’d only brake like that if he had no choice.
“Steve?”
But Steve’s not waiting for them on the porch, he’s not even by the Gate.
Clattering; a strangled cry.
Eddie’s stomach lurches.
He runs towards the noise, opens the bathroom door and is instantly hit by the acrid smell of vomit.
“Steve! Jesus Christ.”
Steve’s pushed up against the cistern. There’s a damp patch all across his stomach, and his chest is heaving.
“Oh my God, Steve, what’s—”
Eddie reaches for him instinctively, and Steve flinches as if he’s been struck.
“No, don’t!”
“Jesus, you’re burning up,” Eddie whispers, drawing his hand back; Steve’s skin is feverishly hot, slick with sweat. He looks around frantically for a cloth, turns on the cold water. “Gotta get you cooled—”
Something slams into him; he’s pinned against the sink, Steve’s hand clamped around his throat.
“No,” Steve repeats. “Don’t.”
“Okay,” Eddie manages. He chokes on a swallow. “S-Steve, you’re—you’re—”
His hand flails, trying to pry Steve’s fingers off.
Steve’s grip loosens ever so slightly. His eyes are wide, bloodshot. Pleading.
“Eddie,” he says through gritted teeth. “You need to hurt me.”
With the last of his strength, Eddie gets his knee up and jabs—it’s barely anything, but it works enough to break Steve’s hold.
Eddie staggers; his back slams against the door. He’s shaking.
Steve stares at him. He’s gripping onto the sink so tightly that Eddie thinks it’s a miracle that it doesn’t crack.
And then there’s a horrible, guttural noise like Steve’s started to choke too, like he’s at war with himself.
Barely audible, he says, “Get… get Nancy.”
Eddie runs.
He nearly falls into Nancy as he opens the front door. He’s breathless, can’t think of what to say, save from—
“Wheeler, he needs you.”
It happens in an instant: Nancy’s brow pinches, and then she goes very pale, and she’s shouting for Robin and Dustin to stay in the RV, like she can turn on a dime, launched into an unknown crisis.
She pushes past Eddie, and he follows her, back into the bathroom.
The cold water is still running.
Steve’s got his hands in the sink. He looks at Nancy desperately.
“S-stop me.”
Another choking sound is ripped from Steve’s throat; Eddie realises that it’s actually a dry sob.
“Nance,” Steve says. It’s half her name, half a pained whine. “Fuck. I’m sorry. I—I know everything.”
And then he’s suddenly launching towards them—it’s only the fact that he’s so completely freaked out that makes Eddie move in time, saves him from getting strangled again.
He grabs Steve’s wet hands, pins them behind his back and tries to hold him still.
“Jesus! Wheeler, what the fuck is going—”
“Do you have anything that can knock him out?” Nancy says.
“What?”
“Drugs, Eddie!”
“Are you crazy? There’s no way—oh my God, what are you—”
Crack.
Nancy’s grabbed the cistern lid, brought it down upon Steve’s head. Eddie looks at Steve lying eerily still on the floor in abject horror.
There’s blood in his hair.
Eddie feels sick.
But Nancy just watches, as if to confirm that Steve’s not moving. She looks Eddie in the eye.
“Come on. That’s only gonna work for so long.”
Eddie just follows her out, too shocked to even attempt speaking.
It’s chaotic at the RV; Dustin sees them coming, leaps out of the door as Robin yells at him.
“Where’s Steve?”
“Get back inside.”
“Nancy, where the hell is he?”
“We can talk inside.”
“Bullshit, I’m—”
“Dustin, he’s Flayed,” Nancy says, her voice breaking, and all the fight goes out of Dustin at once.
“No, that’s—he can’t—”
Eddie finally finds his voice. “Can someone tell me what the fuck you’re talking about?”
Nancy doesn’t speak, not until they’re in the RV, the door locked behind her.
“I think it’s the—the bites—”
Robin swears, a hand over her mouth.
“Flayed?” Eddie persists.
“The Mind Flayer,” Dustin says numbly. “It’s what we—it’s a part of The Upside Down. It—it used Will to… to spy on…”
“And what, it’s—” Eddie swallows. “It’s inside him?”
“Like a virus. He’s part of the Hive Mind,” Nancy says.
Eddie’s knees feel weak.
“Fuck,” Dustin says. “He knows where we are, he’ll know—”
“It’s too late to change that,” Nancy says. “We just have to—at least someone needs to stay with him.”
“I will,” Robin says instantly, eyes blazing.
“Me too,” Dustin says.
Nancy glances at him, shakes her head—firm but apologetic. “You can join Erica.” And as Dustin opens his mouth, no doubt to argue, she adds, “I’m sorry, Dustin. It’s just—we might need to… to fight him.”
Dustin doesn’t reply, but looks so utterly devastated that Eddie wishes he’d insisted on diving first, that the bats had torn into him instead.
“Keep him warm,” Nancy tells Robin urgently. “And I don’t mean just—it’s got to be unbearable.”
Robin nods, ashen-faced.
Nancy catches Eddie’s eye. “The one thing that fucker can’t stand is heat.”
She paces up and down the RV, checking for stray bottles. Then she comes to a stop right in front of Robin.
“He—he might beg,” she whispers. “And it won’t—it’ll sound like him. Like he just wants the pain to stop.”
Robin’s eyes look glassy. “Nance, I don’t—don’t know if I can—”
“I’ll do it,” Eddie says.
He feels everyone’s eyes on him, but he just looks at Nancy, at the determined set to her jaw.
He doesn’t know when he made the decision, if he can even pinpoint a conscious moment of thought—but now that the words are out, he feels the vow he’s made, deep in his chest.
Nancy hands him a bottle and cloth.
A lighter.
She fixes Eddie with a piercing look. “It’s going to look like you’re killing him,” she says.
Eddie nods.
He turns, offers Robin his hand.
“C’mon, Buckley. Let’s get that bastard out of him.”
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bigmanfrog · 2 years
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funny how natalia dyer and joe keery have chemistry in practically every dynamic except the one that the duffers are trynna make canon
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beep-beep-robin · 1 year
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*raises head from chest while violently sobbing* autistic steve who‘s not accepted or accomodated by his parents and is forced to mask all the time, because harrington’s can’t be „weird“.
nancy‘s the first person who catches on and lets steve unmask around her, she knows how to help with certain things because she has experience with mike who‘s also autistic.
steve seeing dustin freely stim and infodump and realizing he‘s allowed to do that too.
robin being the person steve feels the most free around, they can communicate without using many or any words.
eddie helping him through meltdowns and cuddling him afterwards, while steve does the same for him. he encourages him to do things related to his special interests, knowing how important they are to him, and how his parents always used to keep him from them.
when steve loses most of his hearing, no one in the party needs to learn sign language because they already did - in case one of them (most often it‘s steve) goes nonverbal.
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stancyler · 2 months
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when i was younger, first time watching stranger things i liked jonathan and didn't mind steve's character at all. when season 4 came out and i rewatched the whole show i realised i probably didn't know what jonathan did in season 1 was messed up. and yeah, steve was also in the wrong when he let his friends spray paint that nancy was a slut, but you know what the difference is? the same day they did that, steve realised he and his friends were being shitty, so he left them to erase the spray paint, he regretted it almost immediately after.
jonathan, on the other hand, was literally developing the pictures he took of nancy undressing in steve's room from the bushes... the day after taking them. at school. he didn't think he did anything wrong which is weird as hell. jonathan was gonna keep intimate pictures of a girl he didn't know and who had a boyfriend without their consent.
that's the difference between steve and jonathan. steve acknowledges his mistakes throughout the show. jonathan doesn't until nancy calls him out.
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robin-buck1ey · 2 years
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It’s just… Robin
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Season 4 Episode 9 parallels
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mybackup-account · 8 months
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If someone displays these 10 behaviors, they’re truly in love with you, Stancy Edition
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Nancy Wheeler: Wait, what does it feel like when you sense Vecna?
Will Byers: Do you ever feel bugs on you when really there’s nothing there?
Dustin Henderson: That’s not Vecna, those are the ghosts of the bugs you killed before.
Will Byers: …..
Nancy Wheeler: …..
Everyone else: …..
Steve Harrington: Goddamn it, Dustin
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ilovetwig · 7 months
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I think it's very evident what type of people the guys in the love triangle are like when it comes to Nancy. We have Steve, who when he saw that Nancy was choosing Jonathan over him in season 2, he encouraged her to go with Jonathan, supported her choices, and was understanding of her decision to move on from their relationship. He told her it's okay. He did some self-reflection and worked on himself after learning from his experience. It was painful for him to let her go, but ultimately he loves her so much that he just wanted her to be happy and if that meant letting her move on and her being with another guy, then he wasn't going to get in the way of her happiness. Then we have Jonathan, who is so bitter about Nancy choosing Steve at the end of season 1. At the hotel, he tells her that she only waited around a month or so before getting back with Steve, and that she should have waited around longer than that. Waited until he wasn't so busy with Will and his mom. Waited until he was ready. He would rather have her wait around and be lonely and unhappy than to see her with Steve. He was okay with being selfish and wanting to keep Nancy only for himself, even if there was a chance where Nancy could be with someone that could comfort her and try to make her forget her pain. We've gotten to see exactly what these guys are like from the beginning and honestly, I would rather have Nancy be with someone that was selfless and really wants to put her happiness first.
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peter-pantomime · 9 months
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Ok but Steve genuinely feeling like he’s on good terms with Nancy and is completely fine with their break-up, and telling Robin for years now that it just fell apart and that honestly probably all the problems could really be traced back to him (not channeling what he’s heard his mother talk herself into feeling at all or anything), and just sort of giving Robin his conclusions and his version of events rather than an actual, neutral description of what really went down.
And this all being a fine and good and stable shared understanding of events until Robin like, seriously expresses an interest in or is actually on the cusp of dating Nancy, and then suddenly Steve is overwhelmed with this “oh no don’t do that!!” feeling.
And he feels terrible and confused because he’s figured out he doesn’t love Nancy anymore, he understands that they’re better off as friends, and so it’s not like he’s jealous or something, and he still cares about Nancy deeply and he wants more than anything for Robin to be happy, so why does this thought make his gut churn?
And finally, he’s able to articulate that he doesn’t want Robin to get hurt and he’s afraid she’s gonna get blindsided and heartbroken and made a fool of, all these things that he was fine having been done to him and just accepting, but can’t bear the idea of Robin being stunned with or made to feel like are her fault. Steve only able to realize he’s super fucked up by his relationship with Nancy and everything it made him feel and believe about himself when he gets perspective on it by watching someone he loves be put at risk of going through what he experienced.
And from this, him and Nancy finally acknowledging that what they’ve been pretending was friendship for a few years now was just the sort of polite, casual, small talk kind of relationship you have with a coworker or neighbor that let them skate over the discomfort and sadness and awkwardness left unresolved under the surface. Them both finally being able to actually talk about what they tried to be for each other and what they asked of each other and how they hurt each other equally, sometimes on purpose in these head-on collisions and sometimes just by not being the right fit for each other in sideswipes and hit-and-runs.
Them finally holding themselves accountable by being their truest selves around each other, not who they thought the other wanted them to be or who they could use the other to let themselves pretend to be, and actually seeing each other, fresh and raw and honest, and from that, all of them starting on a genuine path towards love and friendship that can actually last.
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eddielove · 2 years
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This fit goes hard
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loveinhawkins · 1 year
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After the almost end of the world, Steve tells Eddie that he can have a shower first.
It feels surreal that they’ve both made it here—that Eddie is standing in his hallway, leaving mud stains on the floor from his boots: remnants of The Upside Down mixed with normal dirt.
Steve almost wants to ask if he can walk around some more, create countless marks as proof of his existence; hell, even take his hand and run it down the beige walls.
Leave a trail, Steve thinks, through a fog of complete and utter exhaustion. So I know it’s real. So I can find my way back to you.
What he says instead is, “Try not to get your dressings wet.”
Eddie pauses on the stairs. Smiles. “Okay, nurse,” he says, and it’s a gentle tease if anything, his voice softened by tiredness.
He’s holding himself a little stiffly while turned to speak, his upper body almost at an angle.
Steve thinks about the jagged line down his side (“If the bats died, like, ten seconds later, you’d have—you asshole,” Dustin had rambled through tears, thumping Eddie on the arm); how Eddie had narrowly avoided a hospital stay. Thinks of the way Eddie tried to reassure Dustin, fiddling with the guitar pick hanging around his neck in a show of nonchalance—but Steve still saw how his hand shook.
“Guess I’m just a lucky son of a bitch, huh, Henderson?”
It shouldn’t have been luck; it should have been a guarantee. Steve should have ensured it.
Eddie makes his way upstairs with slow, heavy footsteps. Steve waits until he can hear the water running, then heads to the phone.
He’s used to this routine by now. Robin and Nancy first, as he knows they’ll pick up rather than their parents.
“Oh, thank god,” Robin had said when she answered the phone after Starcourt. “I thought it was a horrible dream.”
“Thank god?” Steve echoed, laughing.
“Yeah,” Robin said, quite seriously. “It was either I dreamed up everything alone, or we saw it all together.”
And Steve, touched beyond words, had called her a dingus instead.
Tonight, their phone call is much quieter.
“I’m home,” Robin says. “I love you.”
Steve’s hand clenches around the phone. “Love you too,” he whispers, and he ignores the warning sting in his eyes, because he doesn’t have time to—he still has so much left to…
“I’m home,” Nancy says. She adds, “Get some sleep, Steve,” in the fatigued tones of someone who will not be taking their own advice.
Eddie comes downstairs sometime during Steve’s phone call with Mr and Mrs Sinclair. He’s quiet; the only sign that alerts Steve to his presence is the faint smell of mint body wash.
When Steve hangs up, he has to take a breath, still clinging to the phone pointlessly.
“What are you doing?” Eddie asks quietly.
Steve breathes out. “Checking in,” he says.
He dials another number.
It began after Starcourt, the Sinclairs having bought the excuse that Steve had been trapped with Erica in a broken down elevator as the ‘fire’ began—technically true, Steve had thought, just in the wrong order.
Their conversation had been all anxious tones, all, You were there, Steve, what exactly…? Should we be worried that…?
And he gets good at it, at bridging the gap between worlds: keeping the full truth from parents, but giving them just enough information, little things that go beyond the surface level cover story, that somehow help put their mind at ease—cultivating the sense that Steve is the witness, the one being honest with them.
Christ, he’s tired.
The call with Max’s mom is hard. She’s still at the hospital, and technically there’s nothing to really worry about (Max’s arm had a clean break), but that doesn’t change how it all felt, how she shook with pained sobs as Steve tucked her into his side.
“She’s sleeping now. She said you were with her,” Susan tells him, voice low. “Steve, I’m—I’m so grateful.”
But I wasn’t, Steve thinks. Not when it mattered.
He doesn’t realise that he’s still holding the phone after the call has ended until Eddie takes it from him and puts it back in the cradle.
“Hey, can I, uh, use the phone? Wanna call my uncle,” Eddie says.
Steve doesn’t mention the fact that Eddie has already spoken with his uncle, that Steve had overheard him fighting tears in the hospital as he called the plant where his uncle was still working: because even the earthquake-like rumble felt all over town as Henry Creel died wasn’t enough of an excuse to warrant clocking out early.
“Pretend I’m s-someone else calling,” Eddie had whispered, his voice breaking. “Wayne, I-I’m okay. Got stitches, but I’m okay. Fuck. I love you.”
And Steve tried not to think about how it could’ve so easily been him making the call, telling Wayne Munson that his nephew will never come home again.
Eddie pauses, hand hovering over the phone. Then he twirls his index finger in a little circle: turn around.
Steve does. Can’t find the energy to smile.
“Shower,” Eddie says, then taps him very gently on the back, once, twice, like he’s saying off you go.
Steve manages to twist his body so his own fresh bandages don’t get wet, carefully tilting the shower head away from them. He methodically washes away the dirt; the heat of the water is welcome, but it also seems to weigh down his limbs with every drop.
When he goes back downstairs, Eddie is on the phone. He keeps repeating vague little mm-hmm sounds, and Steve somehow is sure that he isn’t on the phone to his uncle.
“Yeah,” Eddie says as Steve approaches. “Yeah, he’s here.”
There’s a little side table next to the phone; Eddie reaches for the notepad, scribbles, then turns it round so Steve can see.
Dustin’s mom
And Steve…
He knows he should talk to her. He knows Claudia will no doubt have questions, even if Dustin’s probably already given his own half-baked explanation about how he hurt his leg—“It’s just a sprain,” he’d insisted, even as Steve hoisted him up, took all of his weight.
The right thing to do, surely, is take the phone from Eddie.
But Steve suddenly can’t bring himself to even lift his hand for it. He feels drained, feels vulnerable and exposed after the shower—that along with the grime being lifted from his skin, it’s also left his stupidly fragile, exhausted heart on show.
Eddie’s eyes flicker over his face like he can see it, see everything, and without so much as an awkward pause, he murmurs into the receiver, “He’s tired. Yeah, he’s—he’s okay. Mm-hmm. Yeah. Yeah, I will.”
He hesitates for a moment, a fleeting sheen to his eyes, and then he says, “Thank you. Goodnight, Mrs Henderson.” Another little pause. He smiles, adds, “Goodnight, Claudia,” and hangs up the phone.
“Is she… okay?” Steve asks. “What did she—is Dustin—”
“All good,” Eddie says. “She was just… checking in.”
The checking you were okay goes unsaid, but Steve can still hear it.
It weighs him down like the shower had done. He doesn’t register that he crosses through to the living room, just knows that he’s suddenly sinking down onto the arm of the couch, that Eddie is sitting next to him.
Steve doesn’t consciously decide to speak, the words tumbling out of him like it’s inevitable.
“This wasn’t supposed to happen,” he mumbles.
He can practically hear Eddie frantically trying to make sense of what he’s said.
“Well, yeah, no plan’s gonna go perfectly, man, that’d be—but, hey, we fuckin’ made it, we—”
But Steve is shaking his head. “No, I… I thought I’d figured it out, I—”
He doesn’t know how to explain it; it’s too much to…
It’s something too big to put into words.
The fact that, as Nancy relayed each phase of the plan, he had listened closely, only agreed because at least he was in the group that would be closest to the ‘blast zone.’
That he’d hated leaving Lucas, Max and Erica alone, but had tried to reassure himself that at least they weren’t in The Upside Down.
That once Dustin knew where Steve was going, he wouldn’t take no for an answer, that he’d follow him to The Upside Down no matter what.
And, honestly, Steve would’ve preferred Eddie not getting dragged into this bullshit for any longer than he needed to be—that if it was feasible, Steve would’ve just told him to take the RV and run.
But Steve had seen how he was with Dustin, roughhousing in the grass. Knew that where Dustin went, Eddie would follow, too—a shield in his hand.
And Steve also knew something along those lines was true for him and Robin: that if he thought he could get away with it, he would’ve told her to watch over the kids at the Creel House, but knew she’d choose to be with him.
That all he could feel about going into Henry Creel’s lair himself was relief—not because he thought he was an essential part in all of this, but because he just…
He needed to be there. Just in case.
Because there was a look in Nancy’s eyes that terrified him. It said that if she had to, she’d die with Henry Creel, so long as it would all be over, so long as Barb would be avenged.
Out loud, all he can say is, “It… it was too close.”
“Steve,” Eddie says. “No-one got—”
“You’re not listening,” Steve says, and there’s a scream in his throat begging to be released; he doesn’t let it go. “It was too—I almost—almost had to—”
“Steve.”
“S-someone’s gotta call home,” Steve goes on. “And I—fuck, I was so scared I’d h-have to—to tell them that—”
“Steve,” Eddie whispers.
“But I-I would’ve,” Steve says. His voice cracks. “I couldn’t have just—they would’ve got a-answers, I would’ve—”
“I know,” Eddie says softly, and he’s got a hand in Steve’s hair suddenly, guiding him to his shoulder. “I know you’d—hey, I’ve got you. I know.”
The first sob, when it starts, hurts—feels like it comes straight from his stomach. Eddie holds him through it, almost like he’s afraid Steve might drift away to some unreachable place.
“I’ve got you,” he keeps saying. “Oh, sweetheart. I’ve got you.”
When it’s over, when Steve gives a final, shuddering breath against Eddie’s shoulder, Eddie murmurs into his hair, “S’too late for any more phone calls, Steve. C’mon. Show me where to sleep?”
It’s not even all that big of a thing, when Steve leads Eddie to his bedroom, lies down on the farthest side of the bed. Leaves deliberate space.
“You don’t have to—there’s a guest room,” Steve says, tongue thick with exhaustion. “Don’t wanna—kinda worried I’ll hit your dressings in my sleep.”
Eddie looks at him from the doorway. “You’ve been patched up too, Steve,” he points out.
Steve shrugs.
Eddie steps into the room. “It’ll be fine,” he says, smiling. “We’ll both be gentle, huh?”
Steve nods through a yawn. When Eddie makes to shut the door, he says, “Don’t, leave it open. Just—just in case the phone… I’ll sleep right through it otherwise.”
Eddie’s still touching the door handle. “D’you trust me?”
Steve’s eyes keep closing against his will. “Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, I trust you.”
Eddie shuts the door so quietly that it barely makes a sound. “Okay. ‘Cause I have, like, freakishly good hearing.” Through his lashes, Steve sees Eddie smirk wryly. ���Like a bat.”
Steve thinks he makes a noise of acknowledgement—isn’t quite sure as his eyes have closed.
He feels Eddie lie down next to him, feels the covers being drawn up.
“I’ll hear the phone,” Eddie says. “I’ll answer it, ‘kay? I’ll come wake you up, if I need to.”
A gentle hand on Steve’s forearm.
“Promise,” Eddie says.
Steve breathes in. Out.
“Okay,” he replies, and he falls asleep completely: not needing to stay half-awake, not needing to pick up the phone—not needing to do anything at all.
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harrington-love · 6 months
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Steve Harrington loves Nancy Wheeler.
Steve Harrington loves Nancy Wheeler.
Steve Harrington loves Nancy Wheeler.
Steve Harrington loves Nancy Wheeler.
Steve Harrington loves Nancy Wheeler.
Steve Harrington loves Nancy Wheeler.
Steve Harrington loves Nancy Wheeler.
Steve Harrington loves Nancy Wheeler.
Steve Harrington loves Nancy Wheeler.
Steve Harrington loves Nancy Wheeler.
And in case no one heard me the first ten times…
Steve Harrington loves Nancy Wheeler.
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beep-beep-robin · 1 year
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was looking through stills from s4 and i‘m obsessed with the fact that every single one of them looks at steve for guidance
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bonus: robin noticing the wounds on steve‘s back
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stancyler · 8 months
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that reunion scene where jancy is hugging and the camera focuses on steve shortly after is a great way to indicate where the path will go next season tbh.
during season four, jonathan and nancy were apart until the very end, and meanwhile nancy was finally able to interact with other characters throughout the season and lead the group for once. we could finally see more of her outside the jancy bubble they had going on for the past seasons where they were always together. she realized her feelings for steve were growing back and she also managed to see his own growth as a better person, shown to the audience when she defends steve from jonathan's comment at the very end. so many of these scenes feel like if they aren't meant to be endgame, just don't make sense.
nancy is also shown barb at steve's pool as a bad memory, but she also is able to make new friends since that happened in season one such as robin. nancy is finally moving on from that trauma and making new friends, and steve is finally able to be the person he needed to be back in season one for nancy but couldn't due to his friendships and bad influences. nancy wasn't able to make new friendships until this last season when she was away from jonathan. her opening up to new friends just indicates she's getting over the barb trauma.
they both have grown a lot, and them getting back together wouldn't be character regression for this exact reason. it would only be if they didn't change at all.
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robin-buck1ey · 2 years
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Robin quite literally fell for Nancy just to make sure that she knows her and Steve are not a thing (it’s okay you can say it, she’s in love)
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mybackup-account · 1 month
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Reply telling me why you love stancy.
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