#stobin drabble

[undreaming-fanfiction]

Robin gets horrible period cramps during her employment at Scoops Ahoy, she's in pain, she's annoyed and she's stuck there with Steve Harrington of all people. She just sits in the break room, hoping her misery will soon be over, but of course Harrington can't stay at the counter for five minutes and decides to enrich her suffering with his presence.

She expects a stupid quip from him, something about her slacking off.

Instead, he looks at her with a jock equivalent of sympathy. "Cramps?" he asks and Robin's jaw drops to the floor. "I mean, none of my business, I know, but you look really miserable. Did you take a painkiller?"

Robin just shakes her head, clutching her stomach. "Left mine at home," she mutters. "And I really need to get some...supplies, but I can't even stand up. What a day."

Steve just nods and turns around and Robin thinks he'll leave her alone now, maybe mock her for too much information, but then she sees him through the window - he's temporarily closing the shop.

His majestically hairy head peeks through the window as he asks: "Tampons or pads?"

"...pads?"

Steve nods and disappears from her sight.

Robin is pretty sure she hallucinated the whole thing, but ten minutes later Steve is back, pads, painkillers and a...

"A burrito?" she asks and she has to laugh, she really does, because what the fuck is happening?

Steve just shrugs and grabs a handful of napkins. "No heating pads in a summer shopping mall, so I had to improvise. These things take ages to cool down so if you wrap it, it should stay hot for a while and help."

A few minutes later, Robin is back, having used her "supplies" and Steve urges her to sit down, handing her the carefully wrapped burrito. "I'll cover the counter, but if you need anything, let me know."

Robin wants to tell him many things, such as How did you know all of this?, Weren't you supposed to be an asshole?, How did you come up with the burrito idea? and much, much more. But she's really tired and the painkiller is taking its time, so she settles for the shortest one.

"Thanks, Steve."

(look, we all know Steve had many girlfriends and with his caring nature and observation skills, he'd be a cramps relieving pro)

#stobin #platonic stobin #scoops ahoy #steve harrington #robin buckley #stobin drabble #stobin ficlet #not proofread we die like dart

[wuffgang-ameowdeus-moozart]

Eddie is gushing about Steve to Robin and he mentions how it's so fucking metal the way he never shies away from danger. Like, quite the opposite, he literally jumps right into it without a second thought!

And suddenly Robin remembers how Steve wanted to be tortured by the actual real Russian secret service if it meant that his then friendly coworker who he never saw outside of Scoops would be at least a little bit safer. And she notices for the first time how Steve always makes sure that everyone is safe before he leaves a dangerous place - how he makes sure to always be the last one - and she thinks fuck.

(She feels so fucking bad. He is her best friend. Her soulmate. The person who knows her best and vice-versa. How has she never noticed this before?!)

They start paying closer attention to him, then. Neither like what they see. Steve's eyebags grow bigger with every day that passes. He doesn't eat a lot. He can never say no to others, no matter how much it inconveniences him. And when Robin and Eddie gush about what an awesome person he is, he gets an uncomfortable expression on his face and denies it. Robin had never noticed how most their interactions were self-deprecating jokes until now, either.

They need to stage an intervention.

The next time Steve walks through the doors of Family Video, Robin and Eddie are ready. They lay down all the facts and propose a simple deal: either go talk to a professional, or they will explain everything to the rest of the party and they will force him to talk to a professional. It will end the same way no matter what he chooses, might as well take the path with least resistance.

The only thing that sounds worse than paying a stranger to talk about his feelings is to be forced to talk about them to his friends, so he agrees.

He doesn't think it will make a difference, at first. It's not like he is allowed to talk about monsters and other dimensions.

The first session is awkward. But Robin and Eddie always look at him with such worried and expectant looks and he cannot bear to burden them in any way, so he starts opening up more. He can't talk about the time he almost got eaten by Demogorgons in a secret supernatural underground tunnelsystem, but he can talk about the time Billie almost beat him to death. He can't talk about the secret Russian operation beneath the mall, but he can talk about almost dying in the "mall fire". (His memories of his time there are all scrambled because of the drugs, anyway. It is more about the 'near-death' thing and never being able to feel safe, which he can talk about)

He doesn't mean to talk about his interpersonal relationships at first. But then his therapist cautiously asks him about his parents, and before he knows it he is spilling beans he didn't even know needed to be spilled. He talks about how he only seems to be friends with people who went through traumatic experiences with him, and what does that say about him? He talks about when he first realized that other kids are not left behind by their parents for months at a time. He finally starts unpacking the whole Nancy situation and realizes, wow, turns out he isn't nearly as over the whole thing as he'd hoped. (There are a lot of tears).

He seamlessly fills session after session, and at first he doesn't think that it makes much of a difference. Until the kids meet him after he is exhausted from a double shift at Family Video and beg him to drive them somewhere or other, and he can say no and not give in without fearing that they will cast him aside.

(Robin and Eddie are smug when they also notice the changes, but Steve supposes they have earned it this one time.)

#steve looking at an oceans worth of issues: #“oh man i sure hope i have enough problems to justify paying a professional” #and then has the audacity to act surprised when he doe #pen. #stranger things #steve harrington #robin buckley #eddie munson #stobin #steddie #stranger things drabble #steve harrington drabble #stobin drabble #steddie drabble

[imfinereallyy]

I love how in most fics with stobin, Robin is either completely grossed out by Steve’s sex life, or they are both so horrible invasive and truthful with each other that Steve and Robin have no problem talking about sex. Both bring me joy. I love these platonic soulmates.

#I love these little weirdos so much #stobin #platonic stobin headcannon #stranger things #stranger things poll #stobin being stobin #stobin headcanons #steddie #steve harrington #platonic stobin #robin buckley #ao3 #codependent stobin #stobin drabble

[stevebabey]

steve harrington but it's that jeff winger moment from community. if u have seen community, u will know... my first stobin-centric piece <3 tw for parental neglect and a prior act of self-harm. this is absolutely on the steve harrington has bad parents train <3

“Steven, this is ridiculous.”

Robin freezes in place. Her hand hovers over the remote she's just placed back down, her limbs locking up one by one at the sound of the voice at the door.

It is not a familiar voice. She knows who it is all the same.

She fights not to move, knowing the couch springs, old and rusted, threaten to reveal her hiding place, even if it is her house. Robin is very much allowed to be here. Expected, even.

But Steve? Steve is not.

It’s why there’s one Christine Harrington on the dingy porch steps.

It’s an unwelcome surprise — even after all the fuss of the 4th of July, a thousand police sirens, endless NDAs, and too much blood on his uniform, Steve’s parents hadn’t shown.

Out of town, Steve had said, his bashed in face making it impossible to read his expression. His eyes were haunted and misty but Robin couldn’t tell if it was from the horror of the night or… a loneliness far older.

So Robin had done the fussing. Had dragged him home with her, shooed away her rightfully nosy parents, and mended him up on her bathroom counter.

Steve had been silent, a little wide-eyed as she worked on each cut, each bruise — but with her gentle touch, he had been helpless to do anything but melt beneath it.

He’d called her Robbie for the first time that night. They’d fallen asleep with their hands intertwined, her arm hanging off the bed to reach out to him on her bedroom floor.

Robin still hasn’t met Steve’s parents, even though it’s been more than a couple months since that night.

She’s been to his house countless times too. She knows where the spare key is, if she ever loses her own copy, that is. Knows which stair squeaks on the way up to the second floor and how the lock on the downstairs bathroom gets jammed too easily.

She’s eaten the best grilled cheese of her life in their kitchen, sitting on the counter.

She’s laughed so hard she’s cried on their couch, getting the throw pillows wet with her happy tears.

She’s still never met Steve’s parents. Til right now.

Christine Harrington has her arms wrapped tight around her frame and Robin has no doubt that on her face is a frown that could make babies cry.

She can’t see her face though. Can only just see a glimpse of her tense body from where she sits. Steve blocks part of her view, his own tense frame in the doorway.

He’d answered the door instead of Robin only because he had the foresight to glance at the front window after the first rap at the door. It was late. Robin’s parents certainly wouldn’t knock at their own home and neither of them were expecting visitors.

The expensive car in the drive, a sore thumb along Robin’s street, had given away the identity of just who was knocking so late in the evening. So, Steve had opened it.

“Mom—”

“I mean utterly ridiculous.” Steve gets cut off without second thought, Christine continuing on as if she hasn’t heard him at all.

“Did you expect us to spend all evening chasing you around? Figuring out where you were tonight from the Carlton’s across the road?”

She’s got this snippy tone that Robin’s heard a thousand times from teachers. Patronising. Too cold for it to seem like a genuinely concerned parent.

“The Carlton’s?” Steve echoes, a bit meek. His shoulders have rolled forward, sinking down a bit and Robin can see his tight grip on the door. Still, she stays frozen, rooted to the couch.

“Yes, Steven.” Christine says his full name again, all bite. “Imagine the shame your father and I felt hearing that. Hearing who you had been associating with.”

“Don’t say that.” Steve grits out immediately, anger bleeding into his tone.

The muscles in his back ripple as he forces his shoulders back, as if he had remembered how to stand up straight at the mention of his friend.

Robin aches; at the reminder of the stark differences of their upbringings and at Steve’s unquestionable loyalty. She finally unfreezes, sitting up a little straighter and leaning forward more— ready to spring up from her seat.

She’s not sure what for exactly. She sorta really wants to go slam the door on Steve’s mom’s face and go back to being bundled up on the couch with him. The urge is strong enough to make her fingers twitch.

“Why are you here, Mom?”

There’s a strain to Steve’s question, even though he doesn’t falter in appearance. Robin can’t see his face either though. She hopes it’s got the bitchiest expression Steve can muster.

“Don’t be smart, Steven.” Christine reprimands coldly. “I know that we may have taken a larger absence than intended but that’s not any excuse to parade yourself around with the strays of this town.”

Strays. Robin feels the word pelt into her and burn into her skin, sinking all the way down. It feels like cold water has tipped down the back of her neck. An unwelcome pit forms in her stomach.

She had known, of course, the reputation of a family like the Harrington's. She hadn’t quite known the extent they would go to protect it. Policing your child's friends over a matter of image is absurd.

Somehow, Robin can see how Steve grows even tenser at his mom’s words— hackles raising like that on a dog. His knuckles turn white. But before he speaks, Christine is barreling on like she hasn’t just slandered every one of Steve’s new friends.

“And to leave the house in such a state?”

Robin hears her sigh heavily, as though this really is the biggest problem in her life — which she can’t fathom in the slightest.

There was nothing wrong with Steve’s house. No mess beyond the usual evidence that someone, you know, lived there.

“Mom, I—” Steve starts again.

“Well, I’m sure you have your reasons. You always do.” She says it so pointedly, like Steve was known for peddling lies to weasel his way out of trouble.

It’s so un-Steve it makes Robin blink hard, wondering if she had heard right.

Steve was honest. He owned his mistakes and he took things on the chin. It was something she had liked most about him in the beginning.

Back when it was all snark and Robin told herself she was never going to be his friend, in this universe or anything other. That even then, reluctant co-worker and nothing more, Steve was honest and decent to her always.

“Now, come on now.” Christine Harrington huffs out her demand. “Your father is waiting in the car and there no use winding him up more than you already have.”

Robin’s stomach turns at her words. It had been a topic of discussion between them, one night weeks ago, lips loosened by the dark. I feel like a dog to them, Steve had admitted quietly, his breath against her pillow and his warmth under her sheets. Like they just leave alone most of the time but expect me to perk up and come running the moment they call. I hate it.

“I’m not coming with you.”

The words stammer on their way out like he had forced them out— and Robin wants to sing she’s so proud of her best friend.

“Excuse me?”

“I’m not coming with you.” Steve repeats himself, the words a little firmer this time. “I’m… I’m spending the night here, with my friend Robin.”

He trails off, the words weaker, losing steam. Robin rises to her feet, the tell-tale squeak of the couch springs letting Steve know she was still here. Still right behind him.

It makes him stand a little straighter.

“I— I’ll come home in the morning.”

Christine Harrington makes a little scoffing noise, a high pitched faux laugh as if Steve’s said something amusing.

“Tell me when did I raise such an ungrateful brat?” She muses meanly and Robin doesn’t miss the way Steve flinches lightly. “We give you free rein of the house, apt time by yourself, and yet when we request you to spend a single evening with us—”

“You’re not asking, you’re demanding.” Steve cuts in, his voice more heated now.

“Oh hush, Steven. You act as if we’re so awful.”

It’s all dismissal. Everything, every word, a dismissal.

“I just can’t win with you, can I?” Christine sighs again, disappointment dripping from the sound. “Either we’re not here enough or we’re here but you can’t find time to have dinner with your family. Which is it, Steven?”

In the doorway, Steve begins to bristle. Robin really, really wants to slam the door now — if only to stop this conversation that seems to keep cutting deeper and deeper into her best friend.

She steps closer to him, moving as silently as she can, and makes sure to stay out of sight as she places a hand gently on the small of his back.

He’s shaking, she realises.

Her heart twists painfully in her chest.

Then, deathly calm, Steve says, “Did you know in 7th grade, I lied and I told everyone in my class that I got appendicitis?”

Robin blinks at the change in subject, the strangeness of Steve’s comment. She does remember that, vaguely. A boy in the year above— it had been a wildfire rumour that had turned out to be true.

Or so she thought. Staring hard at the planes of Steve’s back, the pit in her stomach yawns with an anticipation of devastation. Her hand on his back curls up a bit.

“You and Dad were gone for the whole month to Washington. It was the first time you had ever gone for that long and you didn’t even tell me until the day before you left.”

“Steven—”

“I just wanted someone to worry about me.” He steamrolls on, tone too casual for the story he was telling. “And it worked."

A beat.

"But then Cassie Lange asked about the scar.”

Robin’s hand on Steve's back twists up tighter. She feels like she knows what’s coming— but wishes it to be not true.

She doesn’t want to think of Steve, little twelve year old Steve, doing all that he can for a scrap of attention he was supposed to be getting from his parents.

“And rather than admit I’d lied…” The words come out too tight. “I went and found your sewing scissors and I made one.”

There’s this icy bite to Steve’s voice, his shoulders tensed back up. Christine still hasn’t said anything.

“I hurt like a bitch but it was worth it. I got a card from every single person in my class.”

“You wanna see the scar?” He asks— then he’s moving, his hand rucking up his sweater and shirt and exposing the skin of his stomach. Christine makes a noise like a muffled gasp. Robin feels a bit sick. Steve drops his shirt.

“And I kept all of those cards I got —all 17 of them stashed them under my bed in a box that I still have til this day.” He exhales through his nose. “Because it was proof that, at some point, somebody actually gave a shit about me. Because you didn’t. You didn’t then and you don’t get to now.”

His words hang in the air. There’s a long stretch of silence where Steve stares down the woman on the porch— someone closer to a stranger than a friend.

“So, I will see you at home, tomorrow.”

And then he slams the door to Robin’s house shut with a finality that shakes the air. Robin tenses up at the loud noise. Steve doesn't move, just stays staring at the closed door.

Behind them both, one of the noisy pipes in the house makes a loud noise. It sounds worse than usual as it breaks the silence.

Outside, Robin hears the click of heels on the pavement as they quieten, moving further away.

The pit in her stomach tightens immeasurably, a faint bile taste in her mouth. She finally remembers to smooth out her hand, pressing it flat against Steven’s back— another reminder that she was there.

If he wanted to talk or he didn’t, she was there.

Suddenly Steve sighs, an exhale so large that he shrinks down a couple inches, his shoulders dropping. It sounds exhausted.

He finally turns away from the door, to Robin, and she can only hope her face conveys every ounce of love, of support, she feels within her chest.

“Steve…” She breathes softly.

He wasn’t crying but just the sound of his name, spoken so delicately, seems to inspire tears. Robin catches the tremble of his lip and moves without thought— throwing both her arms around his neck and wrestling him into a hug.

Steve goes easy, his arms snaking around her middle and holding her back so tightly it nearly makes her squeak. She doesn’t though— just lets him bury his face in her neck, taking these big shuddering breaths, these half-formed sobs that break her heart clean in half.

She doesn’t know how long they stand there. Car engines drone as they pass by the street. The streetlights seem to get brighter. Steve presses himself so close to her, as close as he can, and Robin hugs back just as tight. She gives him all the time he needs.

She wonders if there’s an indent of him on her when he finally pulls back — a Steve Harrington shaped outline imprinted on her soul. It feels like there is.

If she could trace it, she thinks, it would be whatever shape love takes.

“Thanks Robbie.” He croaks out. He’s started scrubbing furiously at his face and she can see the wet sheen of tears as he wipes them away.

Robin doesn’t move far, just unwinds her arms a bit and lets them fall back to her sides. There’s an ache between her brows from how long she’s been frowning in concern. Steve looks more disheveled than usual, his usually perfect hair looking flatter — but he looks lighter too, somehow.

“No need to thank me, dingus.” She says, voice soft. She faux punches his chest and then regrets it when his lips don’t even twitch upward. It’s weird to see Steve all undone.

Robin thinks back to that conversation and the callousness of Steve’s mom. Her uncaring tone, the use of his full name like an insult.

She thinks of what Steve had said.

“I’m sorry you felt—” The words get stuck in her throat which grows thicker as she thinks about it. About a self-made scar on Steve’s abdomen, made by a twelve year old boy who just wanted someone to worry.

“—That you felt like you had to do something like that to yourself. I’m sorry no one noticed what you really needed.”

Steve nods slowly, his eyes glazed with a far away look as he stares somewhere over Robin’s shoulder. He gives this little shrug, a little huff through his nose.

“It’s okay.” He says, voice a bit distant. “I mean, it’s not but… even if I hadn’t meant to tell you, I’m glad someone knows now.”

It takes another second before he finally seems to shake himself from his thoughts, turning to properly look at Robin. His eyes are red-rimmed and the tip of his nose is pink. Tell tale signs of tears.

“I’ve never told anyone that before.”

Robin swallows thickly and it takes effort to choke down the urge to cry.

“Well,” She starts. It comes out too high pitched and tight and she clears her throat. “Thank you for telling me.

Some kind of smile plays on Steve’s lips, as if he can tell that she’s fighting off her sniffling and it’s sorta funny to him. It is, a little.

Because instead of being embarrassed or feeling pitied, he feels… delightfully surprised to have her care so much. To be so upset on his behalf.

“Oh, c’mon Robbie,” He gives her that same faux-punch in the shoulder she did earlier and it actually succeeds in making her lips pull up at the edges. “None of that.”

“You’re such a dingus.” Robin says. It comes out a bit wobbly still. Sue her— she doesn’t have Steve’s insane ability to bounce from one emotion to another in a single second.

Steve grins. He wanders back to the couch and flops down onto it. Robin follows and when she sits down, it’s a fraction closer to him this time. He gives one last scrub of his face, wiping the last of his tears away.

She nudges him with her thigh. She has to check just one more time.

“You alright?”

Steve smiles, crooked in that way that lets her know it’s completely sincere. He reaches forward and presses unmute on the remote, the film they’re watching starting up again with a buzz.

Steve presses his thigh back against Robin’s and in the dim lighting of her living room, his eyes glitter with an emotion that threatens to make her want to cry once more.

“Course.” He says. “I got someone checking up on me now,”

Another pointed nudge of his thigh against hers. “I’m better than ever.”

#everybody say it with me now: OOF #the writing of this episode is so good and i simply cannot resist the brainworms when it fits too well #i love making them hurt so they can comfort each other <3 #robin remains to this day the only one who knows the truth about that scar #stobin my beloved #ruby writes steve & robin #... new tag used shlay #steve & robin #steve harrington #robin buckley #stobin #platonic stobin #platonic soulmates #stobin ficlet #stobin drabble #i love these besties w all my freaking bones #idk tell me how i did. or dont. but please #steve harrington has bad parents #steve harrington whump #steve harrington hurt/comfort #platonic with a capital p

[steventhusiast]

STWG daily prompt 30/9/23

prompt: drunk talk

pairing/character(s): stobin and steddie

-

Robin's abruptly awoken by the sound of her phone going off, and blindly reaches for her bedside table to grab it. As she becomes more aware, she realises it's not her default ringtone, it's Material Girl by Madonna. Which means Steve's calling her at... (she finally looks at her phone) three o'clock in the morning. Well. Facetiming her. But, same thing.

She starts to feel a little worried, and accepts the call. A frown comes to her face when she's greeted with a grainy image of... Steve's ear? Instead of his face. And the distant sound of club music.

"Steve?" She asks slowly, and hears a gasp in response.

"Robbie! Hi!" He practically yells, and she drops her head back onto her pillow. He's just drunk.

"You wanna move your phone so I can see your face, Stevie?" She asks slowly, and then waits a few seconds as Steve clumsily moves the camera away so she can actually see him. He appears to be outside of a club, not in one.

Wait a minute. He said he'd be back from the club by midnight.

"Why aren't you home yet?" She asks when he doesn't say anything to her, just smiles dopily into the camera with the corners of his eyes all crinkled.

"Oh! Oh! That's why I called." He explains, words a little slurred, and moves the phone to show a man stood next to him. Robin raises one eyebrow, immediately suspicious.

"Who's this." She asks, though it comes out more like a statement.

"This is Eddie, Robbie! Isn't he so pretty, look at him." Steve continues, and then promptly shoves the phone into Eddie's face to give Robin a view of absolutely nothing. She briefly sees very bewildered eyes.

"This is Robbie?" An equally drunk sounding voice asks in excitement, and suddenly the phone has been moved again and she sees a man with smudged eyeliner and dark wavy hair all in his face.

"You been talking me up, Stevie?"

"Yeah! I love Robin. She's awesome- You're awesome, Robbie." Steve giggles, and the phone's back in his hands now.

Robin sighs again, her eyes starting to feel the strain of abruptly waking up in the middle of her sleep.

"Why did you call me?" She prompts.

"Oh! I'm going to Eddie's place tonight." Steve answers, and then giggles, glances toward Eddie, and brings the phone right up to his lips to whisper (very loudly) into it, "I'm gonna let him fuck me."

Robin snorts at that, and shakes her head as she hears hushed yelling from Eddie.

"Right. You have fun with that. I'm gonna go back to sleep though, okay?"

"Okay. Love you Robbie."

"Love you too, dingus. Share your location with me so I know where you are, okay?"

#steddie #stobin #steddie drabble #stobin drabble #steve harrington #robin buckley #eddie munson #stwgdailyprompt #dailydrabble #mywriting

[catharusustulatus]

Unbelievably uncoordinated (besides playing soccer and running for her life) Robin was actually great at skipping rocks. Even better at finding the best ones to skip. She knew just how to spot and hold the good stones, where to place them in her palm. How to flick her wrist, how to be fast.

She started inviting Steve to her favorite side of the lake after they’d settled they were more than workplace/survived-torture-and-monsters-together friends, late August heat plastering her bangs and painting Steve pink. He always seemed to glow in the sun, the same sparkle she knew drew everyone to him in school.

Steve was still recovering from Starcourt - they both were - and his chest would tighten up after bending down, still bruised and sore, so he would mostly drive them there and soak it all in; her chatter as she searched for the right rock, jokes about Mrs. Click and Tammy, her nightmares about the guards and the laser beam and the dripping flesh beast they’d barely escaped. He chimed in from time to time, adding how Tammy’s cousin Maryanne was a bad kisser, told her about the time Mrs. Davis wouldn’t let him into class when he was late, late because Tommy and Carol had had a fight and almost burned his house down the night before. But he mostly listened, striped shirt riding up his mole-covered belly, and smiled at her as she skipped stones hour after hour.

Arm tired, they’d get milkshakes and he’d drop her off. Waving goodbye to Steve, she always thought the same things: that she was lucky to be alive. That it felt good to ripple some surface of this godforsaken place, especially with a friend. That she really did know how to pick ‘em.

#stranger things #steve harrington #robin buckley #stobin #platonic stobin #stobin fic #stobin drabble #they are my two best friends #I rotate them in the microwave of my mind #two homies and I’m their third #sorry duffer bros they belong to moi

[yabakuboi]

Steve walks into his house—HIS house, he would emphasize—to find his two favorite people wrestling on his couch.

For a second, the bottom drops out of his stomach. It's knee-jerk, even though he knows better. But they are very wrapped around each other, twisting and writhing, and it's pretty easy to get the wrong idea. Until he looks closer and realizes the wrestling is a lot more... violent, than sexy.

He watches, shocked into silence and stillness, as Eddie chomps down on Robin's upper arm. Robin screeches and yanks Eddie's hair. Steve feels un-easy in a different way now, like maybe this is devolving into an actual physical altercation instead of some friendly tussling. He winces when Robin gives Eddie a rather vicious purple nurple.

"FUCK, I give, I give," Eddie screams, limbs releasing her to curl protectively around himself.

Robin bounces up cackling, rumpled and sweaty. Her victory grin is vicious when she turns to Steve.

"Hear that Harrington? Your ass is mine tonight!"

Steve stares at her in fear. "What?"

"I get cuddle privileges tonight," she declares, still a little breathless. "And Eddie gets to sleep on the couch."

Behind her, Eddie looms before he jumps on her back, dragging her back down with a war cry. Steve watches them for a moment as the curse at each other for cheating, before going upstairs and locking himself in his room.

#steddie #stobin #eddie and robin are steve's cats #going forward he puts them both into headlocks and just stands there like :| while they struggle #dribble drabble #shush mal #i hit the tumblr text post button and the steddie + stobin flows from my fingers

[hotluncheddie]

‘I just don’t get it.’ Steve says, slamming the apartment door, pouting. 

He throws his keys down on the counter in a huff. Untucking his polo from his skin tight ‘date jeans’ and rubbing his fingers soothingly over the little indents they’re leaving on his belly. 

Eddie and Robin are splayed out on the couch, air hazy with smoke and a half eaten pizza on the coffee table. ‘What babe?’ Robin asks, lifting her arms up and making grabby hands at Steve. 

He slumps over and falls into her side, snuggling into her shoulder and taking a puff form the joint she holds to his lips. ‘I though coming out as bi would mean I’d go on nice dates, like I used to take girls on. But people would take me on them instead, guys or girls.’ He explains, taking another hit. 

‘Ah. Brian wasn’t the one?’ Robin asks. Putting the joint back in her mouth and tucking Steve closer under her arm. 

‘No.’ Steve pouts. ‘He was lame and he got all weird when I ordered pie. Which, like, we met at the bar, he knows what I look like, it’s not surprising that I ordered pie. Then he started yapping about his jogging routine.’ Steve rolls his eyes, undoing the fly of his jeans so he can kick them off and get comfy on the couch, like he always does, ‘date jeans’ are way too constricting for high pizza time. ‘Like one, bold of him to assume I don’t jog when I do, like, when I feel like it. And two, the pie was really good! I even offered him a bite and he didn’t even accept it! Rude!’ 

‘So rude.’ Robin pets at Steve’s head. 

Eddie unsticks himself from the sofa to get another slice of pizza and pass one over to Steve in consolidation. Nodding along to what Steve is saying as it passes through the soup of his brain. 

‘Like I know people like to sleep around and that’s fun and all but why are they so bad at dating?’ He pulls another deep drag of the joint Robin holds for him, chewing a bite of pizza as smoke billows out between his lips. ‘Why does no one want a cute fat boyfriend with great hair? Why do they just see me as a piece of ass?’ He whines, the weed hitting him now. 

‘Because your ass is great babe.’ Robin says, stealing a chunk of his crust. ‘Top tier ass.’ 

He looks up at her with big eyes ‘Yeah?’ 

‘Yeah.’ She smiles at him, pinching his cheek 

‘I want a cute fat boyfriend.’ Eddie sighs, from the other end of the couch. eyes glazed over staring at the muted tv screen, his slice of pizza held untouched in his hand. ‘I’d take him out on nice dates, brush his hair and help him try on pretty clothes. I could kiss his chubby cheeks and cuddle him and call him sweet names..’ He sighs again, finally taking a bite. 

‘You know Eddie, Stevie here on the couch is single.’ Robin says, getting up to go to the kitchen. Leaving the joint in Steve’s mouth. 

Eddie looks at her go. Blinks hard a couple times and looks at Steve. Sprawled out on the couch cushions, belly peaking out of his shirt. His lovely roommate Steve. Cute and fat and silly hot. ‘Maybe I even want to hold his hand as we take a little walk. Maybe I want to take care of him and spoil him and make him feel like the world spins around him. He could get fatter, if he wanted, because i lo-like him so much.' Eddie continues. Confesses. Eyes wide and heart racing.  

Steve’s cheeks are pink, eyes glassy and pretty. ‘Me?’ Steve points at himself, joint between his long fingers, looking at Eddie, looking all over his face. 

‘Yeah.’ he breaths. Matching the dopey smile that spreads over Steve’s face, besotted and beaming. 

-

me and @scoops-aboy86 were talking about this post. so now you all have to read the silliness too xoxo

Tag list (open): @pearynice @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @chickensinrainboots @cheesedoctor

#hotlunch #drabble #chubby steve harrington #idiot4idiot #my new fave #steddie #hope ur day brightens partner *tips cowboy hat* #steddie wg #stobin soulmates

[hairmetal666]

What if, after Vecna is defeated, Eddie lives and is recovering in the hospital and one day he's just gone. Like, Steve and the kids come to visit and his hospital room doesn't even exist anymore. It's just a blank stretch of wall. The nurses, nurses they know worked with Eddie, say they've never heard of Eddie Munson and there's never been a room where the kids insist there was the day before. Anyone else they ask says they've never heard the name, even though it was only weeks ago that the entire town formed a mob to hunt him down. Hopper and Murray look into it and there's no record of an Edward Munson in any database anywhere. His previous arrests are gone, his fingerprints, record of Wayne becoming his legal guardian, his social security number, his birth certificate. Even his Uncle Wayne, gone without a trace. Like neither man ever existed.

They search for years, always hoping for word, or a return, or anything. But Eddie was there one day and gone the next. Apparently forever.

They mourn, all of them. He was part of the group, part of the family, and then he was gone with no fanfare or goodbye. Then he was gone and every force in the world pretended like he'd never been there in the first place.

Steve, quietly, takes it hard. He spends weeks crying himself to sleep, clutching the ruined battle vest to his chest. It's just unfair, is all, Steve thinks. '86 was supposed to be Eddie's year.

Time passes and they all grow up, all move away from Hawkins. Steve and Robin move to Indy; she starts college and Steve gets a job at a little bakery because he's a regular already and they're hiring.

He loves baking, finds it calming in a way very few things are for him anymore. After a few good years, the store becomes his, and he didn't know he could be this happy or satisfied with his life, after everything.

He never stops thinking of Eddie.

Close to Steve's 30th birthday, a little bookstore opens up in the vacant building across the way. Steve sees the owner sometimes, dark hair pulled into a sloppy bun, pale skin, the occasional hint of black ink under his dark clothes. Beautiful. They wave at each other almost every morning and Steve ignores the reminders of Eddie. They're commonplace now. Any man with long dark hair, tattoos, and black clothing stirs a spark of recognition in Steve's gut, and the disappointment still hurts even after a decade.

Weeks pass and Steve notices a new display in the window of the bookstore; those dnd guides all the boys have, the dice with too many sides, the little plastic figures and pots of paints and delicate brushes. He vows, the next time the kids are in town, they'll go over and he'll finally introduce himself to that probably nice man whose only sin was a slight resemblance to a boy from Steve's past.

The kids come for a visit only a few weeks later, and are just as enthusiastic about going to the bookstore as he is to take them. He has them help bake his secret-recipe sugar cookies, decorate them in a dnd theme (Erica and Max say they're dorky, and he agrees, despite being pleased with the results).

Steve heads to the bookstore first, to warn the guy about the veritable horde of feral young adults about to descend on his quiet store.

He walks in to the sound of a gently ringing bell and Metallica playing at low volume on the store's speakers. Steve has to ignore it or he'll walk out.

"Be right with you," a muffled voice calls out.

"Take your time," he responds. He browses with the container of cookies in his arms, taking in all the dnd stuff, the signs about dnd club meetings, the stacks of new release books and a couple cds.

"Sorry to keep you waiting," a soft, husky voice says back at the front of the store. It breaks Steve out in goosebumps.

"Don't worry about it. I'm from the bakery across the street, wanted to finally introduce myself. I brought goodies," he adds, sort of blushing.

He steps back up to the cash register, eyes finally settling on the owner he's only seen from afar and all the breath leaves his body. It leaves him lightheaded, dizzy.

Eddie Munson. Eddie. Munson. Stands behind the counter, hair in a bun with messy tendrils around his face. He looks the exact same. Maybe a few more lines around his mouth and eyes. But the same.

"Ed--Eddie?" Steve's voice croaks out. He barely manages to drop the cookies onto the counter and not the floor.

Eddie's deep brown eyes flood with tears, a hand--every finger with a ring--covers his mouth. "Steve," the other man sobs.

There's no hesitation as Steve flings himself into Eddie's arms, the other man catching him and holding him tight.

Eddie squeezes him, crying against Steve's shoulder. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," he repeats.

"I can't believe you're real," Steve murmurs between soft sobs, pressing his face against Eddie's neck.

"I'm real. I'm here," Eddie agrees. "I'm right here, sweetheart."

Steve pulls out of the embrace a little, just to look at Eddie's face. To see after all these years. He presses trembling fingers against the line of Eddie's jaw, and the other man leans into the touch, lets Steve trace the contours of his cheeks, his mouth.

"You're here," Steve agrees.

Their eyes lock, drink each other in, ten years of longing dancing at the knobs of Steve's spine.

"They took me away," Eddie says, deep brown of his eyes serious and pleading. "The government. They snuck me out in the middle of the night and forced me and Wayne to adopt new identities, sent us to New Mexico. Monitored us so I couldn't contact any of you. It killed me, Stevie. To be away from you. From Robin. The kids."

That snaps Steve out of his daze. "Oh, shit. The kids."

It's too late, though. The bell at the door jingles, the usual cacophony that accompanies the seven of them filling the little store in an instant.

Dustin's voice rings out, above the others, "this store is so fucking cool."

"Language," Eddie scolds on auto-pilot. When he realizes what he said and why, his eyes wash with new tears.

The kids turn, as one, to the man they never thought they'd see again.

Steve's fingers dance down Eddie's arm, finding his hand, twining their fingers together. Eddie tightens his grip. Steve's never letting go of this man ever again, and he knows with some deep, element certainty that Eddie feels the same.

"Eddie?" Dustin exclaims.

"Hiya, kid." Eddie smiles a little, ducks his head.

"What the fuck," Max says.

"Anyone have time for a story?" Eddie asks. He dashes away the few tears that track down his cheeks.

"We have all the time in the world," Steve agrees. Doesn't think before he lifts Eddie's hand and presses a kiss just below his knuckles.

#steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #ficlet #drabble #oneshot #the party #max mayfield #erica sinclair #robin buckley #platonic stobin #eddie is kidnapped by the government #witness protection #steve owns a bakery #eddie owns a bookstore #they're in love your honor #dustin henderson and eddie munson friendship #steve bakes eddie cookies #dnd themed baked goods #fluff #second chance at love #reconnecting #eddie's disappearance is based on a movie called so long at the fair

[stevesbipanic]

The reason Steddie gets out in the open with the kids was of course Dustin's big mouth.

"Steve you can't tell me you and Robin aren't dating it's ridiculous there's no way you can be solely platonic."

"And why is that Dustin I treat her like I would any friend!"

"No you don't treat her at all like Eddie!"

"I treat Eddie exactly the same."

"Steve you're in his lap right now, you never do that with Robin, you and Robin must be dating."

Eddie who's been giggling this whole time, "Yeah Steve you just be dating her, truly you should be treating her the same if we we're all strictly platonic."

"I'll start treating you the same if you don't shut up."

"Shutting up."

It actually takes five more conversations like this before Dustin gets it.

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #dustin henderson #stranger things s4 #steddie #st4 #stranger things season 4 #drabble #stobin

[undreaming-fanfiction]

Steve is pretty good at dealing with pain. Burns, scrapes, bites, bruises, he will just grit his teeth and get through it. It's almost like the more it hurts, the less he has to think about everything. But when he starts losing his hearing, there's no pain, nothing to shield him from his thoughts.

He's terrified. He already feels isolated, singled out in their small group, and of course he's concerned about not being able to respond, to live his life as he knew it, but what eventually breaks him is the smallest thing, the most insignificant, mundane thing.

He and Robin are sorting books in the Family Video and they have this unspoken ritual - whenever there is a theme song in the movie they're watching, Robin will hum it for the rest of the day, with exaggerated movements, directing the orchestra and everything. And Steve watches her one day and realizes - he will lose this. He will never hear Robin's voice again, her slightly husky and over the top renditions of whatever unlucky movie happens to play. He can't help it, his breathing becomes heavy and shaky and before he knows it, Robin is embracing him and he's trying to explain how scared he is, how he feels like his life is basically over, how he'll miss her silliness and they won't be able to talk on the phone when she leaves for college, he can't ever hear her hum anymore...

After an emotional evening and a pizza night with their favorite sitcom - with subtitles! - on, they go to work again, but Robin excuses herself for a bit, runs into the nearby store. When she comes back, she has a large sketchbook in her hand and a black marker. She starts scribbling along to the very faded melody that Steve is registering from the TV and when she hands her final work to him, he laughs and maybe cries a little. Maybe more than little.

What Robin drew for him looks like a mountain range. She created an axis for time and an axis for the "MUSICAL DRRRRAMA", indicating how intense the music is in each moment. And all of the intensity is annotated, not a single soud described, but rather how Steve and Robin still see their world, in all its silliness. "This part is mega sharp, reminds me of wanting to stab Tommy Hagan with a knitting needle", it says next to one peak. "Remember that really soggy and stale cookie we ate at your place because we were hungry? That's what it feels like" and "it's sooooo looooong and boooooring it's like Mrs. Click's class" and "the violin here is crispy. SPICY. Like the Chinese food we had last Thursday, it kind of never wants to stop burning".

It's then that Steve knows that he will be okay. There won't be phone calls, but there will be letters, so many letters with silly descriptions and drawings, nagging to practice his ASL and visits to check if he really did his homework. Robin will be better than him at it, of course she will, but even when they'll both be able to sign fluently, she will still hand him a new melody scribble now and then.

On Steve's first birthday without sound, she gives him a huge binder labelled "For my only schmuck: Steve's album". In it are tens of scribbles, all of the melodies they hummed together in the Family Video with fresh descriptions and inside jokes. And when she stands in front of all their friends, hands raised up like a conductor and under her guidance, the whole group signs "HAPPY BIRTHDAY, STEVE", he realizes that sounds might have been overrated, because there were no words to describe this kind of love.

#steve harrington #robin buckley #stobin #platonic stobin #hoh steve harrington #stobin drabble #stranger things drabble #stranger things

[wuffgang-ameowdeus-moozart]

An average day in Family Video:

"It's just so stupid, you know?"

Robin looks up from where she is rewinding the tapes and nods enthusiastically. "I know, right? I mean, seriously, why would you pay an extra fine if all you need to do is-"

"I'm not talking about that. I'm talking about that." He points to one of the two monitors in the shop.

"Just....movies? Like, I get that working here sucks, but -"

"No! I'm talking about the scene that comes before this one- or well, now the one before that."

"Ohhhh. You mean needles."

In that moment a customer comes in. Robin goes back to rewinding tapes and Steve goes back to frowning. As soon as the customer is gone (thankfully an older lady who was not interested in starting small-talk) the conversation resumes as if she'd never been there.

"We really should be able to put other things to watch. It's not normal to know a movie by heart that isn't even good. I hate capitalism, it's destroying genuine art."

"Like back in the good old days when everything was black and white and mute?"

"Tell me one contemporary actor that comes even close to Charlin Chaplin."

"Dunno. Like, Harrison Ford?"

"Wow. I can't believe you are literally my soulmate. I'm so embarrassed."

Another pause. Robin motions to the growing pile of tapes in front of her and Steve starts putting them back in the shelves.

"It's just so stupid, you know? Like, I can deal with literal flesh-eating monsters from another dimension. I can deal with almost getting beaten to death more than once. I can deal with the constant stress of being responsible for a bunch of teenagers who put their "thirst for knowledge" before their own safety. And a fucking little needle gets me down?!"

"Steve. It was a traumatic-"

"Yeah yeah yeah, I know. I just don't...get it. Like, the flickering lights make sense. But I don't even remember being drugged up because, oh yeah, I was literally high as a kite. It's such fucking bullshit."

"One of the pros of being gay, I guess. I don't need to worry about donating blood."

They fall silent again. The conversation isn't over, they just need to find the right thread to continue. Talk between them rises and ebbs as naturally as breathing.

"Maybe I should just become gay, too."

"Oh my god you can't just choose to be gay you dingus. It's not like someone is gonna put a barrel against this hollow head of yours and force you to donate"

"I mean, it's not like men are unattractive. If, I don't know, Jonathan offered. I wouldn't say no. Like, I'm not gonna lie, when he got all mad back when I was still with Nance-"

"Deflection or over?"

Steve sighs. "Deflection."

"Resume or later?"

He sighs again. "I don't know. I mean it's not like we can do anything about it."

"Exposure therapy is a thing, you know. If it really bothers you."

"Like a tattoo or something?"

They are silent again. Robin rewinds tapes, Steve cleans the already spotless counter.

"What would we even get?"

"Dunno. Would have to be something discreet to not make job hunting even harder when this one inevitably falls through because of Demogorgons or Mind Flayers or some shit." She doesn't look up but Steve knows she is listening.

"You actually know the names?"

"Don't tell the dipshits."

Another customer comes in. This one is unfortunately a chatty one. Steve's behavior could perhaps be most accurately described as "bitchy". In his defence, he was in the middle of a conversation here.

"Okay, but a discreet tattoo. Like what. A tramp stamp or something?" Robin continues as soon as the door falls shut again.

"N- you know what. Why not?"

"Because it's a fucking tramp stamp Steve"

"What, are you saying I don't get around enough to be considered a tramp? I'll let you know-"

"No, Steve, believe me, I know. But if you get a tramp stamp, I also need to get a tramp stamp."

"Is that a no?"

A pause. Steve knows he won before she even opens her mouth

"You know what? Fuck it. Let's get fucking matching tramp stamps"

(more)

#my steve always has a tramp stamp <3 #an average day in family video #this turning into a stobin blog first and steddie second lol #tried to capture how in synch and comfortable they are with each other idk #stranger things #steve harrington #robin buckley #stobin friendship #stobin #platonic stobin #platonic with a capital p #platonic soulmates #stranger things drabble #stobin drabble

[steddieas-shegoes]

Read Platonic Shower Stobin first

Is it normal to be thinking about non-platonic showering while working?

Probably not.

But it’s all Eddie could think about at the shop. His boss kept giving him weird looks all day, noticing his clumsiness and stupid mistakes with customers getting a standard oil change.

He kept picturing Steve. Naked. Touching him.

He was doing it again. Oil spilled down his jumpsuit. He closed his eyes and sighed.

This was his last car for the day. He could leave when he was done. That’s what he had to remind himself every time his brain started to drift to thoughts of fucking Steve against the shower wall.

He’d never had shower sex. Sounded difficult. Sounded worth it.

Especially with Steve.

Steve Harrington.

Jesus, what had he gotten himself into?

— — — — — — —

When he got home, the apartment was quiet. He knew Robin would still be at work, but Steve was always home first. He usually was making dinner, playing music, cleaning, taking up space in a way that he never could as a child or teenager.

Eddie loved it.

Eddie loved Steve.

Maybe he wasn’t like, in love with him. Yet. But he did love him. He loved Robin, too.

But he definitely knew he could love Steve.

Steve who should be home but isn’t. Or at least isn’t making any noise.

“Steve?”

No movement. No response.

Maybe he was stuck at work.

Maybe he ran for the hills at the thought of having to be in the shower with Eddie.

Maybe he changed his name and went into the Witness Protection Program to avoid ever having to look at Eddie again.

He walked towards his room, which was the closest to the front door and shared areas because Steve and Robin hated being close to the door. When he opened the door, he felt himself freeze like he had that morning in the bathroom.

Steve was in his bed, cuddled up with his pillow, no shirt on, mouth wide open and drooling.

Eddie was in love with Steve.

He was in love with him and he wanted to come home to this every day; Steve asleep in his bed, drooling on his pillow, possibly completely naked under the blanket.

Eddie remained as quiet as possible while he got out of his work jumpsuit, stripping it off and leaving him in his undershirt and boxers. He had oil stains on his hands and neck that needed to come off before he got in bed.

Just when he grabbed his towel from where it was hung up on his desk chair, he heard Steve groan. In his bed.

But it only took a second for Eddie to recognize it was a groan in pain, not pleasure.

He wasted no time in rushing to where Steve was curling up against the pillow, eyebrows scrunching together.

Migraine.

Eddie sat on the floor next to the bed, putting his hand up to gently brush hair out of his face and try to relieve some of the pain.

Steve’s eyes fluttered open, though he looked like he wished they hadn’t.

“Hey, sweetheart. Need anything? Water maybe?”

“Mm-mm.”

Eddie was certain he did need water, but he wasn’t going to argue with him when he had a migraine. Especially not if he tried to make it all day at work with one.

He’d leave some water by the bed while he showered so it was there if Steve managed to sit up.

He stood up, but before he could turn around, Steve’s hand was around his wrist.

“Don’t go.”

“I need a shower. Got a lot of oil on me.”

“‘Sposed to go in the car.”

Eddie snorted. “No shit. I was too busy thinking about you and spilled. Three times.”

“Oh.”

Steve let go of his wrist, and it felt like he was no longer tethered to the earth.

“Shower?”

Eddie was still getting used to Steve during his migraines. He’d only lived here for six months, and it was usually Robin’s job to handle it or Steve would already be sleeping it off by the time he got home. In his own bed.

He didn’t know if Steve was clarifying what he had already said or if he was asking to take one.

He didn’t look like he could stand up, so it must’ve been the former.

“Um I’m gonna take one. I’ll be quick.”

Steve started to shuffle around, moving the blanket off of him slowly.

Eddie tried to stop him from moving, not sure what he was trying to accomplish, but not wanting him to make his headache worse by moving.

“Steve, stop.”

“No.”

God, he was stubborn. He loved him so much.

“What are you doing?”

“Shower.”

“Is that a good idea?”

“Promised.”

Eddie melted. He was a puddle on the floor. Might have even gone through the floor.

“Sweetheart, you can stay in bed. We can shower tomorrow night when you’re feeling better.”

“Want to. Neck hurts.”

Eddie helped him out of bed. Arguing wasn’t worth it and getting to shower with Steve was welcome any time.

They took it slow, stumbling to the bathroom across the hall as Eddie tried his best to support Steve. Just when he was about to offer carrying him bridal style, Steve stopped and rested his head against Eddie’s shoulder.

He let out a shaky breath.

“Sorry. Nauseous.”

“Want me to carry you?”

They were almost the same size. Eddie had some muscle, but not nearly what Steve probably had. The bathroom wasn’t far though, he could probably make it.

Steve shook his head against him, but didn’t start moving again. Eddie let him rest his head against him for a moment before he moved his hand up to start rubbing the back of his neck.

Steve groaned and fully relaxed against Eddie, and if he hadn’t been head over heels before, he was now.

He didn’t know how long they stood there, but he knew if it helped Steve even a tiny bit, he would stand here all night.

But they didn’t stand there much longer, even though it seemed like Steve didn’t actually want to move. He pulled his head away with a sigh, and Eddie made an executive decision to just carry him.

He lifted him quickly so he couldn’t argue, because if Steve will do anything, it’s argue over someone helping him.

But his migraine must have been terrible because he didn’t argue. He just rested his head against Eddie’s chest and closed his eyes.

“You sure you don’t wanna go back to bed?”

“Shower will help.”

Eddie couldn’t resist it anymore; he placed a kiss on the top of Steve’s head and walked to the bathroom.

He sat him down on the toilet lid so he could start the water and get the right temperature. As he stripped his shirt off, he noticed Steve’s head was resting on the sink counter and his eyes were open.

That had to be some type of progress, right?

“Doing okay, Stevie?”

“Better when you’re naked.”

God, the migraine couldn’t even stop his charm. Incredible.

“Alright, take it easy. No riling me up. Not now.”

“Why not?”

“Because you have a migraine.”

Steve just sighed and closed his eyes. Eddie took off his boxers and then kneeled in front of Steve, placing his hands on his thighs.

“Wanna leave these on?”

Eddie played with the waistband of Steve’s boxers, looking up at his face to see if he gave any outward signs of discomfort.

Steve shook his head and sat up so Eddie could help him stand and get them off.

They were about to shower. Naked.

Maybe it would be more platonic than not because of Steve’s migraine, but he’d get to take care of Steve with intent. Intent Robin didn’t have.

Was he jealous of Robin? Only in the way that she’d been showering with Steve for a long time and didn’t even appreciate it.

He helped Steve into the shower and turned him so the back of his neck was getting hit by the water, his forehead resting against his shoulder.

He let out another groan.

“Perfect.”

Eddie smiled to himself as he wrapped his arms around Steve’s waist. They stood there for a couple minutes, and it did seem to help the tension leave Steve’s body a bit.

“Can we switch for a minute so I can scrub the oil off?”

“Mhm.”

But Steve didn’t move and Eddie honestly didn’t want to move him. He’d never been this content or comfortable just existing with someone else naked.

Most experiences he had naked were quick or not in his own home, so he couldn’t quite relax like he was now.

Plus, it was Steve. Steve had seen him at his worst already. This was far from that.

He reached out his hand for the soap, deciding to just do what he could without moving Steve first. But Steve let out a hum and lifted his head so he could move away.

He rested his head against the shower wall instead while Eddie rushed through washing his body. He could wash his hair in the morning; Steve wasn’t long for this world and he wanted to have him cozy in his bed as soon as possible.

“Hair?”

Eddie looked over to Steve, who had one eye open, staring at him.

“Nah, I’ll do it tomorrow.”

“Mine?”

“You want me to wash your hair?”

“Please?”

How could Eddie refuse that?

This was one of Eddie’s biggest dreams come true.

He wasn’t gonna say no.

So he guided Steve back under the water, tilting his head back and slowly pushing his hair back so it was wet.

He slowly massaged the shampoo into Steve’s scalp, smiling when Steve let out a few low moans. He knew it wasn’t necessarily pleasure, more relief than anything else, but he was happy to make things better for him.

He took his time. It was for Steve, but he definitely got his own enjoyment out of it too.

Steve looked so calm, relaxed, almost blissful, which is something he never sees regardless of if he has a migraine or not.

When he’d spent more than enough time with his hands in Steve’s hair, he leaned his head back and covered his eyes to rinse the shampoo out. Steve looked like he was about two minutes from falling asleep, and Eddie needed him to be out of the shower before that happened.

“Sweetheart, let’s get you dried off and back in bed,” Eddie said softly, not wanting the echo of his voice to make Steve’s head hurt worse.

“Mm.”

Eddie shut off the water and managed to get Steve out of the shower rather quickly, reaching for his towel to wrap around Steve before he could get cold.

He found an extra towel under the sink for himself, wrapping it around his waist before focusing on Steve again. He started to pat him dry the best he could, but Steve was struggling to stand upright.

He once told Eddie that during his worst migraines, his legs would feel like jelly, and sometimes his back would ache from the extra effort it took to stand up.

This must be one of those.

He managed to guide Steve back to his bedroom, slowly, afraid that one wrong move could send Steve to the ground in terrible pain.

“Sorry.”

He looked up as he helped Steve into some of his boxers.

“What could you possibly be sorry for, sweetheart?”

“Not fun.”

“Any time with you is fun. And I got to see you naked. I’d say that’s fun.”

Steve didn’t have enough energy to smile, but the way the corner of his mouth ticked up for just a second showed Eddie he wanted to.

“Thanks.”

“Nothing to thank me for. Always gonna take care of you.”

Well, nothing like throwing all his cards on the table. Full house or royal flush or whatever the hell the best hand in poker was.

“Mkay. Want you to.”

If Eddie was capable of it, he would probably melt through the floor. Again.

Because Steve never let anyone take care of him, except Robin, and she was only allowed because she would kill him if he didn’t let her. He was the epitome of “suffer in silence,” and everyone just watched as he tried to work his way through his own pain, both emotional and physical.

So if Steve wanted him to take care of him, that meant he was really doing this. He really wanted Eddie.

Holy shit.

“I got you.”

He got Steve to lay down in his bed while he threw on some boxers, rushing as quickly as he could to dry his hair a bit with the towel.

It always got so frizzy if he fell asleep with it still wet, but he didn't care. He had Steve in his bed.

Steve curled up to his side as soon as he was under the blanket, placing his head on his naked chest.

Eddie didn’t think it could be comfortable, but it must have been because Steve was letting out little snores within moments.

Eddie’s hands covered his back and the back of his head, fingers moving slowly to ease any possible aches or pains he might feel in his sleep.

He kissed the top of Steve’s head, letting his lips linger for longer than was probably necessary. He breathed in the scent of his freshly washed hair, smiling to himself when he felt Steve sink further into him.

He would take a not-so-platonic shower with Steve in the morning. This was almost better than anything his dreams could’ve come up with anyway.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #tumblr drabbles #headcanon #part 2 #started as platonic stobin #now we’re at Eddie getting to take care of Steve #STEVE HAS A MIGRAINE AGAIN OKAY #I DONT KNOW WHY I DO THIS TO HIM #also this wasn’t as good as I’d hoped but I just kept getting distracted

[metalhoops]

Steve was going to die crouched behind a picnic table in an unfamiliar town. That’s how he saw it, anyway. 

He’d been looking for Robin. That’s where it all went wrong. She hadn’t shown up for work at the video store that Saturday morning. It wasn’t like her. The two had just started at their new job and it was a goddamn Saturday. Steve had been run off his feet all day. 

At the end of his shift, he couldn’t help but look for her. Since the incident with the Russians, both he and Robin had their days where they would disappear, but they’d always let the other know they were safe. 

Steve never used to be a worst-case-scenario kind of guy until everything with The Upside Down. All day he’d felt panic rising in his stomach. What if she’d been taken by demogorgons or kidnapped by secret government operatives?

He drove the BMW past all of Robin’s familiar haunts. She wasn’t at home or at Steve’s place. The school was closed, so she couldn’t be at band and she’d have asked him to drive her to the movies.

That’s when he started to check the places he didn’t want to find her. The Junkyard, Lover’s Lake, and the remains of the Hawkins lab.  She wasn’t there. It was then he recalled a conversation they’d had last Sunday. 

“All right, I’ve got some more evidence,” Robin had exclaimed days before, and Steve had known exactly what she was talking about. 

“Well don’t hold out on me, Rob,” Steve pushed, pulling out a notebook he should’ve been using to keep track of people’s late rental returns. 

Instead, it harboured two columns and a series of tallies, an ode to their Scoops Days Steve was secretly proud of thinking up. ‘Vicky likes boobies’, proclaimed one column while the other argued, ‘Vicky doesn’t like boobies’. He’d never said he was mature. Plus Steve got a kick out of watching Robin squirm. They’d been trying to work out if Vicky was a viable crush. Steve thought she was but so far the columns were an even split. 

“Last night I saw her car parked outside the fairgrounds in the next town over. Any other day of the week and I wouldn’t think it was weird, but Saturday night, it’s a spot, you know?” Steve didn’t know. 

“A spot?” He echoed. 

“Yeah, you know? Like how skull rock is ‘a spot’ but it’s only for certain kinds of people.” Steve’s brow pinched together and he nodded. 

He could imagine what Robin was implying. He’d added another tally to his favourite side and thought nothing more of it until he’d run out of places to look for Robin in Hawkins. It was a Saturday night. It was a long shot, but he’d take it.

Steve drove to the next town over and was surprised to see a smattering of cars at the fairground. There were a handful of boys in their twenties sitting on picnic benches around a boombox playing music Steve was vaguely familiar with. Then there were a couple of girls sipping beer and passing the bottle around. 

If you didn’t know, it’d seem like any other half-assed party but if you knew what to look for, you’d know you were in the right place. Steve didn’t know when he’d become the kind of person who knew what to look for. 

One of the guys had his hand tucked into the back pocket of another’s jeans. Then, of course, he saw his fair share of coloured hankies, carabineers and key rings. Sometimes, Steve actually listened when Robin talked to him about that kind of stuff. He figured it must get lonely, not having anyone to talk to about those things. He wanted to be a good friend even if he couldn’t relate to Robin. Steve liked girls. That was the beginning and end of it.  

He studied each of the partygoers' faces and felt his throat begin to constrict. Robin wasn’t there. Where the hell was she? This had been the last stone left unturned. Now what? 

Steve’s heartbeat was a kick drum, threatening to crack his ribs in two as it burst from his chest cavity. His vision began to tunnel and a ringing in his ears swelled to a crescendo as he crouched behind an abandoned picnic table.

What if something happened to her? How the hell was he meant to find her? 

Steve felt a hand on his shoulder. 

He looked up with a start, almost leaping out of his skin when he saw one of the boy’s faces inches from his. The space was dark, illuminated only by the moon and the intermittent flickering of car headlights.

“Hey. You’re okay. Just breathe with me for a second, alright?” The boy instructed.

His voice was vaguely familiar, but Steve couldn’t string together a coherent set of thoughts. His body was focused on not keeling over. He tried to copy the overdramatised rise and fall of the boy’s chest. 

“There you go,” the boy soothed as Steve’s breathing evened out. 

“Guessing, it’s your first time here. Don’t worry too much about it. The first time I went to a gay bar in Indy I had a panic attack in the bathroom.” Munson. The voice belonged to Eddie Munson, Steve’s brain supplied at last. 

They’d gone to high school together. Though Steve wasn’t sure if the guy had graduated. He vaguely recalled Eddie hating all jocks on principal and Steve had tried to give the boy a wide berth because of it. Turned out he was the type to hang out at gay bars. Okay. 

There was no way Eddie recognised Steve. He was being way too nice to him. Maybe Munson was a good guy. Steve hadn’t taken the time to find out back then. Steve hadn’t really been a good person. He was trying hard to be better.

“No one’s tried to push you into anything, right? Because that’s not what this place is about. I might not be able to kick anyone’s ass, but I know a guy who could,” Eddie commented, confirming Steve’s suspicions. He was a good guy. 

“No. I’m good... I’m looking for someone,” Steve breathed, hoping maybe Munson would’ve seen Robin. 

Then again, if Eddie hadn’t seen her, he’d be outing Robin, which Steve knew was a shitty thing to do. Eddie spoke before Steve had the chance to decide what he was going to say.

“You see him around?” Eddie asked, moving to sit beside Steve on the grass, scanning the crowd. 

Oh. Eddie assumed Steve was... That was fair. He was at ‘a spot’. He guessed he could work with that. 

“I think he stood me up,” Steve covered, looking for an excuse to get out of there. 

“His loss,” Eddie mused, placing a hand on Steve’s knee. Oh, no. Flirting. 

“I should get out of here,” Steve stuttered, jerking upwards.

“Right, shit. Sorry. Too strong,” Eddie spoke half to Steve, half to himself as he stood up and dusted grass from his jeans.  

“Don’t let me spook you. Seriously. You look like you need a night out. I can sit all the way over there and we can pretend this never happened,” Eddie proposed. 

Steve was dreading the ride back to Hawkins, knowing if he went home now, he wouldn’t be able to sleep. Steve surprised himself by shaking his head. 

“No, I don’t want you to... just... don’t go. This isn’t something I do. I could use the company.” Steve was surprised at the words as they left his mouth. In what world did Steve Harrington want to hang out with Eddie Munson?

“Alright, no funny business, I promise. I’ve got some beer in a cooler. We could keep things all PG-13,” Eddie proposed, leading Steve to where the aforementioned cooler was stashed on a free picnic bench. 

“I’ve got to drive back home, but I could stay for a bit,” Steve remarked, sitting down beside Eddie’s cooler on the tabletop. 

He tried to focus on the distant music and the sound of passing cars. His thoughts kept returning to Robin. He dug his thumbnail into the table, scratching at the splintering wood as he tried to stop his mind from reeling. 

“Is your place far from here?” Eddie questioned, sitting beside Steve and lounging back on his elbows, glancing up at the night sky. 

“That wasn’t a preposition, by the way,” Eddie clarified quickly. 

“I was just trying to make conversation. Christ, man. I’m shit at this.”

“Shit at what?” Steve questioned absentmindedly, glad to have a distraction. 

Eddie grabbed a strand of hair and coyly hid a smile behind it. 

“You know. Talking to pretty guys.’ 

It wasn’t like no one had called Steve ‘pretty’ before. They had. But they’d always done it as an insult. He’d heard the word, ‘pretty boy’, spat through gritted teeth a handful of times, but no one had ever made it sound like a good thing, like something Steve wanted to be. 

It was strange. Steve hadn’t been lying when he said this wasn’t something he usually did. He wasn’t gay. He didn’t hang out with men in a way that walked the tightrope between platonic and flirtatious, but he’d gone on a lot of dates with girls, some that’d been far worse than the way his night was panning out. Steve was surprised at just how comfortable and familiar the setting felt.  

“I’m from Hawkins,” Steve admitted, feeling Eddie’s keen eyes on his profile. 

“Small world. Me too.” Everyone knew everyone in Hawkin’s. It’d only be a matter of time before Eddie placed him. Then what? He couldn’t imagine Eddie would want to hang out with him for long after that. 

“I came here with a buddy but I’m pretty sure he’s screwed off by now, you mind giving me a lift? Think we could both use the company.” 

Steve was always driving the kids around, that’s what he was good at, and it’d be a distraction. Steve nodded before he could think any better of it. 

“I can do that. You say the word,” Steve muttered and followed Eddie’s eyes to the stars. 

“Soon, give me a few minutes to enjoy the view”. 

That was the one good thing about small towns in the dead of night. The stars could really shine, painting their way across the sky, all milk and moonbeams. For once, Steve wasn’t thinking of the things lurking in the shadows. 

He could hardly make out the features of Eddie’s face, but he couldn’t help but think, if this was like the dates he’d been on with girls, this was the point where he’d kiss them. It’d be romantic. At heart, Steve had always been a romantic.

A car pulled up close to the two boys, bathing them in yellowed light. Eddie’s face turned to look at Steve. His eyes swelled wide with recognition. He’d expected Eddie to be shocked, this was the last place Steve would expect to find himself on an ordinary day. What he didn’t anticipate was Eddie jerking back as though Steve had physically hit him, his body tumbling backwards off the bench and onto the grassy lot. 

“Holy Hell, Harrington,” Eddie choked out, as he tried to pull himself back to his feet, staggering. Right. Steve should’ve known this wasn’t going to end well. He should just leave now. 

“I thought your voice sounded familiar. Christ. Steve ‘the hair’ Harrington. Here? Holy shit.” 

Steve stood, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot, trying to eyeball the best path to the Beamer, suddenly wanting to be anywhere but there. 

“I’m going to go...” Steve began but was cut off by a wild flailing of limbs and Eddie’s hand encircling his wrist. 

“Sorry. Shit. Sorry. Steve, Stevie. Wait. You surprised me.” Eddie placated, his eyes swollen wide as he looked at his fingers around Steve’s limb. It was as though his body had grabbed Steve of its own volition. 

Steve couldn’t help but notice the muffled conversations from the surrounding tables had quietened. 

“I get it if you don’t want to take me home, but I won’t tell anyone... you know. Cross my heart, dude.” 

Steve hadn’t been worried about that until now. His heart rate sped up again. He wasn’t queer but if rumour got around. His dad would kill him. Steve wasn’t sure that the statement was hyperbolic. Eddie must have seen something in Steve’s face, because his grip on his wrist tightened. 

“Promise I won’t. Look, somehow I’ve managed to collect your little flock of ducklings into my D&D club at school. They think you’re a good dude. That’s good enough for me.” 

Steve trusted Eddie. He shouldn’t. He told himself he was dumb for doing so, but his instincts won out. 

“Well, come on then, if you still want a ride,” Steve grumbled, pulling Eddie along with him to the BMW. 

The two talked on the ride back to Hawkins, but all of it was inconsequential. It was just what Steve needed. Eddie rambled about the kids, something he and Steve had in common. It was the only thing Steve knew they had in common besides the fact Eddie thought they were gay, or at least that they both liked men. 

It should’ve been awkward talking to Eddie, knowing the guy would’ve slept with him if given the chance, but surprisingly it wasn’t. Maybe that’s how Robin had felt about him at the beginning of their friendship. No. Don’t think about Robin. She was safe. She had to be. Steve would know if she wasn’t. 

“What happened to you, Steve?” He heard Eddie ask out of the blue and realised his fingers had been gripping the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles had turned bone white. 

Steve didn’t know how to answer the question in a way that wouldn’t spur on deeper probing, so he said, “Nothing”. The reply seemed to tell Eddie everything he needed to know. 

“I guess I grew up,” Steve supplied lamely.

“I wasn’t talking about how you don’t hang out with the same dicks from school. You stopped doing that before you graduated. Don’t ask me how I know that. Don’t make me say it. You’ve always been pretty, is all I’ll say. This is different. You never used to look so... haunted.” 

What was Steve supposed to say to that? He didn’t say anything, just turned the radio up and wondered how Eddie Munson, of all people, saw right through him. 

When they pulled up out front of the Munson’s trailer, Eddie paused, looking Steve over. 

“Hey, Harrington? You still all on your lonesome in that big old mansion of yours?” Steve rolled his eyes but nodded.

“Well, would you look at that? Me too. I mean, minus the mansion. Want to not be alone, together?” 

“I’ve got work in the morning,” Steve deflected as he found himself switching off the car and following Eddie up to the front door. 

“Won’t bother me. I sleep like the dead.” 

Steve was a horrible sleeper, not that it would matter. He knew he wouldn’t be sleeping that night. Maybe in the morning if he couldn’t find Robin he should call Nancy. She knew everything about missing friends, about knowing something was wrong and yet feeling like you had no one to turn to. He wished he’d been that person for Nancy years before but he hadn’t and there was nothing he could do about that now. 

Steve found himself tucked into the corner of Eddie’s bed. The two boys had stripped off their jeans but kept their shirts on. He kept comparing the night to dates he’d had in the past. He kept thinking how easy it felt to do the same with a man. Steve liked women, he knew that, but he was beginning to entertain the idea he might be able to like men. Couple that crisis with his worries that Robin was somewhere alone and hurting and you had one messy knot of emotions Steve didn’t know how to unpick. 

“Night, Stevie,” Eddie muttered, as his hand made its way to rest on his inner thigh. His breath smelled of alcohol. 

“This okay?” He clarified. Yes, Eddie was a good guy and Steve wished he’d known that sooner. 

“Yeah,” Steve admitted because it was okay, much to his surprise.

When Eddie did eventually fall asleep, he rolled over, keeping one hand on Steve’s thigh and slinging the other over Steve’s chest, somehow ending face down in the crook of Steve’s neck. He smelled of beer and smoke. It was the longest night of Steve’s life. 

True to his word, Eddie remained sound asleep as Steve extracted himself from under him come morning. He paused to jot his number down on a notebook beside Eddie’s bed, surprising himself once again. He hadn’t gotten or wanted a second date with anyone in months. He wasn’t sure this was classified as a first date, but it had him wanting more of whatever it was. 

Steve parked outside Robin’s place, surprised to find her waiting for him in the driveway, unharmed and applying her makeup with the help of a compact mirror as though it were any other day. 

“You look like crap,” Robin noted as she slid into the passenger seat. 

Steve could cry. Steve would’ve cried if it hadn’t been for years worth of emotional repression. 

“You weren’t at work yesterday,” Steve said by way of explanation. 

“Yeah. I went to Indianapolis for my aunt’s birthday. I told you I was going last week.” 

Oh. Steve had forgotten. He nodded, then sniffed pathetically, pretty sure he was about to cry. Robin was fine. She’d never been in danger. She placed her hand over his and gave it a reassuring squeeze. 

“Dingus, were you worried about me?” She teased, trying to lighten the mood. He shook his head, a blatant lie. 

“So worried you didn’t go on one of your crappy Saturday night dates or do you have another story to tell me about how you stuck out with a smoking hot babe... again.” That brought Steve to his second crisis. 

“Kind of.” Robin raised a brow.

“Kind of? Steve Harrington, since when are you coy about the people you date? Dude, when it comes to me you have no boundaries.” She was right. 

“I think I went on a date with a guy,” Steve admitted, not meeting Robin’s eye as she let out an inhuman squeak. 

“I was gone for one goddamn day and that’s the day you decide to date a guy?” She gasped, smacking his arm. 

In retrospect, it was pretty funny. Steve’s urge to cry was suddenly stifled as his body rocked with laughter. 

“I think I owe you one, actually,” Steve admitted, knowing he wasn’t going to hear the end of it. 

Read Part 2 Here

#steddie #steddie Drabble #drabble #ficlet #steddie ficlet #first meeting #pre season 4 #au #steve harrington #eddie munson #platonic stobin #robin buckley #bi steve harrington #fluff and angst #steve x eddie #Metalhoops writes

[steventhusiast]

STWG prompt 19/1/24

prompt: "what? where?!"

character/pairing(s): stobin

-

Steve's completely zoned in on sorting through returns near the Family Video cashier when Robin gets his attention from across the room.

"Hey, Dingus!" she pauses her task of putting tapes back in their place to say.

"What, Rob?"

"You got a little," Robin gestures at his general person as she talks, "something on you."

The way she says it, a little scrunch of awkward displeasure to her nose, makes Steve panic. Immediately, he wonders if there's a spider on him, and stands as still as possible.

"What? Where?!"

She points toward his t-shirt, but doesn't look anxious so- no spider. Thank fuck. Actually, not thank fuck. He must have a sauce stain or something on his white t-shirt. Or toothpaste, or- or a drink stain. Or something worse.

He looks down, but can't see anything, even when he pulls the fabric away from him a little to see better. He still finds nothing.

He looks up to ask Robin what the fuck she's talking about just in time to see her sniggering to herself.

"Rob, what-"

"I can't believe I made you look."

"What are you talking about?"

"God, I wish I was close enough to point at it and then flick you in the forehead when you looked down."

"What is wrong with you?"

#stobin #steve harrington #robin buckley #the most ridiculous prompt response i've ever written i think #stranger things #stobin drabble #stwgdailyprompt #dailydrabble

[catharusustulatus]

She still calls him Dingus, but Robin has recently started to branch out with the nicknames for Steve. Maybe it’s an any-day-could-be-the-end-of-the-world sentimental thing, but he doesn’t mind. He loves it, in fact. Robin calls him “-Ven Diagram” once, calls him Knucklehead, Eyelashes, Bagel Boy. Which is fair.

He calls her Rob, Robbie, Sir Robin. Freckles, Smarty Pants. He calls her Elisabeth (her middle name) when he’s feeling cheeky. He calls her Ro-Bo-Rob over the phone, calling before bed after he’s gotten home from dropping her off, he can’t seem to go fifteen minutes without her. Like she’s his second beating heart. He does his best robot impersonation to make her laugh, her chuckle over the landline the only thing that gets him to sleep these days. He tells her good night, knows she’s twirling the cord as she says “alright, love you Steve. Time for bed, for real this time.”

#stranger things #steve harrington #robin buckley #stobin fic #stobin #stobin drabble #they’re besties who talk all day and night #they’ll pick conversations up like no time has passed #she will always tell him about her dreams #and interpret his dreams for him #he will always have extra mascara in his glove box for her #she brings him oranges to eat on their way to work or school #and will peel them for him as he drives #hold the slices up to his mouth for him #he will always do the orange slice mouth smile thing for her #and she’ll roll her eyes but always laugh #they are everything to me #platonic with a capital p