#hard of hearing steve harrington
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The point is, Steve can’t hear.
A person can get hit in the head only so many times before it takes effect and does permanent damage. Steve’s incessant claims that being in the front row when the fight breaks down does nothing to him, that he’s safe and alright as long as everyone else is, mean very little in the face of cold, evident facts.
His hearing isn’t intact. It takes him a while to adjust to this reality, but with the help of his friends, he eventually does. Thanks to Nancy’s fierce bullying of the government guys who come to Hawkins to assess the situation and cook up some half-assed excuse for everything that’s happened, Steve now has a small army of well-paid doctors that really seem to be eager to help. He also gets state-of-the-art hearing aids that, well—they work, but Steve’s range of possibilities is still quite narrow. Let a few people into the room, let them speak simultaneously and all he can hear is static, rustles and crackling.
But he’s pliant. He listens when Robin tells him they have to get in the car and hit the road to get to his appointment on time. He lets her help with inserting the aids properly on the days he’s just too impatient and too bugged about how they feel and look to even care if they help him hear. He’s not dismissing her enthusiasm when she starts learning sign language before he even gets a chance to discuss it as his option.
He’s doing a lot of things for her, even if they’re supposed to be important to him first. To be honest, these days it’s mostly doing things for Robin that keeps him going. He would have gone completely numb ages ago if it weren’t for her and her unique ways of picking up the severed pieces whenever he crumbles.
He’s also doing it for Dustin. If Robin is his twin sister, Dustin is the little brother he’s never had. And Dustin… It’s just been too rough on him. It’s been rough on everyone; how could it not be if the only thing they seem to be able to do is wait? Wait for the lab guys to figure out a way to end this. Wait for the panic to cease. Wait for Max to wake up.
Wait for the grief to pass.
They wait and wait, but it never stops—on the contrary, it brings fresh, equally unwanted feelings. They’re always there, lurking behind the corner like a kitten that wants to launch itself at an unsuspecting owner – only with them, there won’t be any playtime involved. Steve recognizes this feeling. It’s the same feeling he’d had in that Winnebago when he was dropping off Max, Lucas and Erica at Creel’s doorstep. An awful anticipation of doom waiting to happen.
He doesn’t like it. He’d like to find a way to do something about it, but he can’t seem to get to the core of it.
Maybe that’s why he thinks he’s hearing things when he really can’t be hearing them.
At first, Steve writes it off as him being paranoid. It happens only when he’s home by himself, so it’s the only logical explanation – he takes off his aids, he gets too attentive about his surroundings, right? He thinks he hears something, but it’s only his tired mind playing tricks on him.
Especially because what he hears are mostly usual, non threatening things. The sound of water running in the bathroom (he goes inside, everything is dry and quiet). The sound of kitchen drawers being opened (he goes to the kitchen, the cabinets are exactly the way he left them). The sound of cutlery being dropped on the floor (but he hasn’t even taken anything out in the first place).
He even gets used to it. Things happen, his brain is weird. It’s confusing, sure, but hasn’t he seen worse things? He definitely has.
But it doesn’t keep him away from sleeping with his bat perched on the side of the bed. If he sleeps at all, if a sudden sound of breaking glass doesn’t keep him awake until his morning shift with Robin, when he can finally leave this goddamn house and take his mind off of things.
Steve tries to ignore it. He really tries, but the point is—Steve can’t hear things like running water in the bathroom when his aids are off. Hell, he only makes it out if he focuses on it when they’re in, so why the heck can he hear it so well? Why are the sounds multiplying?
It goes on for weeks. He avoids the topic for as long as possible, trying to shoo away the obvious similarities between his house and the house that made him hate spiders and cringe at fireplaces not too long ago.
It gets a little too real on just some random Tuesday, when his kitchen positively explodes with sounds the second he gets the hearing aids off. Cabinet doors slam left and right, mugs fall to the floor and shatter, forks and spoons seem to be getting thrown around like ragdolls—but Steve sees nothing. He hears it, he hears it so loudly it hurts, the cacophony of noises he’s never even heard before, but his eyes register no proof of it. He curls down on the floor, expecting sharp glass pieces to cut his skin, but nothing happens. Nothing’s here.
He still covers his head, tucked away in the furthest corner of the kitchen, waiting for it to just stop, to leave him alone—
Steve doesn’t know how long it takes, but when it’s finally done, his knees are shaky and his breathing is ragged. He snatches his aids and takes off, straight to Robin’s house. He doesn’t even lock the door, a thing his parents would kill him for if they knew.
It’s the first time he explains everything to her. It would be hard not to, because she sees right through him. His panicked, restless eyes are enough indication of things not being right.
“Maybe, uh—I think I’ve read something about hearing loss and auditory hallucinations? That they happen, sometimes, especially if the loss of hearing is sudden?” she says, already flipping through her notebook where she keeps all Steve-related stuff and pacing around the room with enough force to make a hole in the carpet.
Steve’s not convinced. “It seems pretty real to me,” he mumbles and frowns. “But that’s the point of it, right?”
Robin shrugs. He notices that she has a small set of wrinkles around her eyes. Steve looks at them for a second in total disbelief. They already have some worry wrinkles, and they’re not even well into their twenties.
He’s gonna lose all his precious hair in a span of months if this doesn’t stop.
*
They decide to bring it up during his next appointment, still hoping that it’ll maybe go away on its own. Robin tries to make him get a consult straight away (what if it is rabies after all, Steve, like a really really really weird, belated presentation of rabies?), but he waves it off. The option of hallucinations doesn’t soothe his nerves, but as long as it’s not a chiming clock, he can avoid confronting it for a while longer.
It doesn’t go away, though. Steve can’t quite pinpoint it, but it almost feels like—well, it obviously doesn’t feel like it’s real enough to be real. But there’s something that accompanies the sounds, the lack of evidence, the missing of this ominous feeling that Creel’s house inflicted on him.
The sounds—it feels like they bear a presence. Steve’s still scared and gets spooked by them whenever they happen, but he’s no longer truly afraid of them.
Some of them are even comforting. The sound of his pillow being fluffed up before he gets to bed, the sound of pen scratching on paper whenever he leaves his journal open on the desk, the whooshing sound of a lighter being opened and closed – they all make this eerie place his parents have left him a little less empty.
He rarely lets himself think about it that way. He may be a little kooky, but admitting that he’s lonely enough to find hallucinations comforting would be way too much to handle at the moment.
So Steve can’t hear, but he learns to accept the fact that, apparently, sometimes he can. He doesn’t know how it works—to be quite honest he doesn’t know a lot about experiencing hearing loss at all, despite now being hard of hearing himself—but it just makes its place in his life.
He thinks about it a lot, but he tries not to overthink it too hard. It just happens. Things fall to the floor in his house, curtains get torn, the fridge gets opened frequently. He just can’t see it. His mind hears it, but his eyes don’t get the memo. He lives for longer than a week. It’s probably a good sign; nothing’s going to make his bones snap in two now, probably. Hopefully.
Things change suddenly.
Steve tries to spend as much time with Dustin as possible. Between work, his appointments and Robin, Dustin, Max and the kids are his top priority. He doesn’t think he would be able to function if he let himself take a breath and step down from his piled up responsibilities that he chose to take on himself. They keep him together. They keep him going.
Besides, Mrs. Henderson gets really worried. Sometimes it’s just better for Dustin to stay with Steve, and Steve is more than happy to be with him, even though it seems that Dustin doesn’t really like his cold house either.
It’s one of Dustin’s quiet days. He gets them, sometimes—Steve knows that trying to get him to talk on one of those days is a lost cause, and his ears are killing him. He was in such a hurry this morning he didn’t take the time to put the aids in properly. Work was overflowing with people, too, so now his temples are throbbing from trying to pick up the chatter from the static. Seriously, how is it possible that people still spend so much time watching movies in the face of almost-apocalypse, Steve doesn’t know.
“Would you mind if I took my aids off for a while?”
“Go ahead,” Dustin mumbles, bending over his new book.
Something flips inside Steve’s chest. He knows it’s not supposed to be like that, it’s unlike Dustin to be so… not himself. But what can Steve do? He can’t make him talk. He can just wait, nothing else.
He gets up to leave his aids on the counter and pour himself some coffee. He should probably start making dinner soon, but he decides to take a few peaceful sips first.
It’s weird. To sit with Dustin Henderson, of all people, without a single word. Steve glances at him every once and again, but Dustin either ignores him or genuinely forgets that he’s there.
Steve’s so deep in his thoughts about Dustin, he doesn’t even look to the side when a sudden sound of kitchen chair toppling over cuts through the silence. His eyes are trained on the kid.
Who flinches. And frowns. Steve can swear that he fights the urge to look around.
Each and every chair Steve keeps in the kitchen is standing where he placed them in the morning after breakfast. Nothing real has happened. But Steve heard it. And, apparently, Dustin did too.
Steve’s brain is working overtime for the rest of the evening, and he desperately tries not to show any of it. He’s jumping into conclusions. It was an accident; dumb luck. It’s nothing. He’s working himself up, nonsensically.
But it doesn’t feel like it’s nothing. It was only one chair, one sound, but the feeling that accompanied it was strong. Too strong to be nothing.
He waits to drop Dustin off at home like he’s on pins and needles, fumbling with his fingers and keys and pacing around. Maybe it’s better that it’s one of Dustin’s quiet days, he mostly gets away with it, getting only a few side glances.
When gets back home, it’s late, but he’s buzzing with anticipation nonetheless. He can finally do something. He discards his aids haphazardly, not nearly as carefully as he should, and starts running around the house. The house his parents built is huge—but the kitchen turns out to be quite small when he’s finally done with arraying at least a dozen lamps there. He has to raid three of his father's garages to get enough extension cords.
When he turns them on all at once, he has to take a step back and shut his eyes, because it’s too much light.
Just the right thing he needs.
His heart is beating so fast he can almost feel it ramming against his ribs. That’s about how far he’d thought this plan through.
“Come on,” he says and clears his throat, trying to gauge how his voice may really sound now. He repeats himself, hoping that it’s louder this time.
Nothing happens for a while, but he knows he’s close. The feeling is here. The presence that hasn’t left him in months. It’s here.
Steve walks around the kitchen, moves the lamps a little, shakes some of them. His hands are clammy and it feels like he’s chewed through his cheek at this point, but he can wait. He’s waited for a long time. He can wait a while longer.
When the microwave beeps, he stops breathing for a second.
Until it beeps again. And again.
“Oh god,” he breathes. He doesn’t know if he speaks clearly or not, he doesn’t even care. “Come on, show me that it’s you. Come on, come on—”
The lamp furthest to the left starts blinking, slowly at first. Then the one next to it, then another one, and another one, like someone’s walking around and making them flicker one by one.
They’re blinking so much one of the bulbs goes out. Steve doesn’t hear it hiss, so he knows it went out here, now. He knows it’s real.
“Oh god,” his hand goes to his mouth. His eyes are weirdly itchy. “Oh god, is it really you, Eddie?”
The lamp directly in front of Steve goes wild. When he reaches out, it’s almost like he can touch the presence that’s here with him.
And it’s Eddie. Eddie’s here with him.
#steve harrington#eddie munson#is he a ghost??? is he a zombie????#a vamp- is he a vampire?!?!?!?!?!?#well he's definitely a creature#robin buckley#dustin henderson#dustin and his dads#!!!!!#steddie#stranger things#st4#fix it fic#of sorts???? at least a beginning of one#im telling you people.... there are explanations#hard of hearing steve harrington#hoh!steve#platonic stobin#because i love them
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Wayne’s trying his best to get the picture hung as straight as possible.
There are kids screaming at the yard, he can hear Hopper arguing with Jonathan from the backyard, something about the movers or something, Eddie’s in the kitchen trying to hang his mug collection in display, Dustin and Mike are trying to carry more boxes to the house and the others are scattered everywhere in the new house, trying to do their own thing to help him out.
There’s a box full of framed pictures just beside his legs. Wayne’s still trying to level the frames. He was never one for pictures, until Eddie came home to him.
The first framed picture, he remembers buying the frame from a dollar store. No glass, just a flimsy plastic and plastic frame. Eddie was 12 in the picture, teeth crooked, hair growing, with the acoustic guitar Wayne bought for him. It’s secondhand but, Wayne still had to work double time for it. Every minute of it was worth with how big Eddie’s smile on the picture was. He just finished learning his first song and just finished playing it for Wayne. It’s Stand By Me by Ben E. King.
There’s more in pictures taken, more pictures developed and slipped into an album he bought from Melvald’s. But the second picture to be framed was when he was 15. It’s a picture that would make any person stop and think, “Who would frame a picture like that?” Eddie’s 15 in the picture, curly hair long and frenzied, but the highlight is his beaten up face. He has a growing black eye, there’s is crusty blood on his nose and Eddie Munson is beaming. He got into a fight, his first fist fight, and Wayne shouldn’t have framed it. But it’s also the same day Eddie came out to Wayne and Wayne will forever keep it close to his heart.
The next picture framed is when he’s 18. It’s the day Eddie’s supposed to be graduating High School, but didn’t. Eddie thinks he hides it well, the stress and disappointment that he’s not graduating, hiding it in sarcasm and witty jokes but Wayne can see through him even blind. He takes him out for the day to Indiana, they walk around, going to stores Eddie would love and ending it in a diner. Wayne asks the waitress to take a picture of them. Eddie breaks down that night, telling Wayne he didn’t deserve this and that he should be more disappointed, more angry before shutting himself to his room. He wakes up the next morning with Wayne trying to hang another framed picture in the trailer, Wayne tells him, “School’s not everything. You’re a good person, Ed. That’ll always be the most important thing to me.”
The first three framed pictures and album full of pictures are gone, eaten by the four fault lines that swallowed Hawkins whole in 1986. Wayne doesn’t care, not really, not when his son was being chased down by the whole town. His kind, weird, loud Eddie, who doesn’t even want to hurt bugs or spiders, always opting with setting them free rather than squashing them.
Eddie comes out alive, and free at the end of it. Because beyond everything, beyond being kind, generous, loud, funny, Eddie has always been a fighter. Between fighting real life monsters, signing NDAs and recovering from literal feral bat bites, Eddie gains a family. It’s weirdly shape, contains an actual 15 year old with super powers, the Mayfield girl who rose from the dead, those two comes with a gaggle of children, Chief Hopper who also rose from the dead, Joyce Byers, the Buckley kid, the reporter, two potheads. It’s a weird family, and still the weirdest part is Steve Harrington. Harrington. Still it was a family, held together with tape, trauma and love.
Wayne’s not Steve’s biggest fan. Not until Wayne gets the full story of how Eddie survived, he doesn’t get it until three months later. Only because Eddie wasn’t ready to talk about it. Eddie tells him that it was all Steve. Steve who gave him CPR, wrapped his wounds properly and carried him out of the hell hole with his own injuries. Wayne was kinda mad at Eddie for not telling him immediately, especially because he’s been giving Harrington the stinky eye for three months now, when in truth Wayne is forever in debt with him.
Eddie’s also babble mouth who told Harrington that more than anything Wayne was devastated to learn that the “Upside Down” goo washed up all of the pictures. For his birthday, Wayne’s not even sure how he knows, Steve buys him a secondhand camera, an empty album and a stack of empty frames. That starts a tradition that spread all throughout the family. It somehow culminated to them taking pictures of Eddie, and when they think it’s special enough, they frame it and give it to Wayne. Eddie hates the tradition, because why do you guys keep framing my picture???
That’s how he ended up here, in his brand new house, the one Eddie bought for him just after his second successful tour, with a big box full of pictures.
Wayne backs up from the wall full of frames, it’s accumulated so many different pictures now, now it’s not just Eddie. Now, it’s a burst of different pictures. Somewhere in the left, you will find the framed picture of when Eddie finally graduated, Robin, Nancy and Jonathan beside him with the same graduation gown. Beside it is a picture of the Party in their own graduation, beside it is a big collage frame with a picture of each kid when they also finally graduate college, there’s a picture of all of them when Joyce and Hop finally got married, a picture of when Robin, Steve and Nancy all graduated college, all separately. Pictures of weddings, and birthdays, and kids from the kids who he watched grow up, who now call him Grandpa Wayne.
Eddie’s pictures are still there, Eddie will always be there. Eddie in his first apartment, Eddie and his band when they first open a concert, Eddie signing his first contract, Eddie on his first radio interview, Eddie and his band on their first magazine cover. Just Eddie, living his dream.
“I think that one’s a little crooked.” A voice tells him. He turns to see Steve, a little older now, hair shorter, glasses thicker, a hearing aid always on his ear.
“Which one?” Steve points at the large picture. It’s a little bigger than the other frames.
Wayne smiles, moving closer to adjust the picture. In the picture, it’s with Steve and Eddie, both in their tuxes, Wayne in the middle as Eddie’s arms is hooked around Wayne’s shoulders and as Steve is laughing at something Eddie has said. Wayne’s just smiling at the two of them, the sun bright, brand new rings sparkling in the sun.
When satisfied, he moves back just as Eddie enters the room, a box in his hand, “I got you some new pictures.” He gives Steve a knowing smile, as Wayne accepts the box.
“I don’t remember the pictures very well, but I tried my best to describe them to Will.” Wayne’s hand flies to his mouth as he sees the framed pictures. They’re drawings, and they’re not the exact same, but it looks so similar to the pictures he lost in the earthquake, the pictures he long accepted he’ll never see again. It’s Eddie as a kid again, and it’s enough to bring tears to his eyes.
“This isn’t fair, Ed. You can’t just make me cry.” Eddie laughs as he gives his uncle a hug, a whisper of thank you’s exchanged.
They watch as Wayne hammers a new nail on the wall, placing it just beside the picture of Wayne standing beside Eddie as he holds his first award.
He straightens the pictures.
Takes a step back to look at it all.
Some of the frames fraying from the age, some pictures fading on the edges, some of it are crooked.
All of it filled with pictures, radiating a life lived with joy and happiness.
It’s perfect.
#UNCLE WAYNE DESERVES HAPPINESS#LET HIM HAVE HIS SON#LET HIM HAVE EDDIE OKAY#wayne munson & eddie munson#wayne munson#steddie rants#steddie#daerants#daeheadcanons#steddie headcanon#steddie fic#steve harrington x eddie munson#steve harrington x eddie munson angst#steve harringon wears glasses#hard of hearing steve harrington#rockstar eddie munson
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It was probably wrong, but Eddie used Steve’s hard of hearing to step into his space and get as close to him as possible. When Steve looks away, Eddie will grab him by his chin so that way Steve can continue to look at lips. He knows how Steve is an excellent lip reader, and since he hasn't learned how to sign, Eddie made sure to keep him focused on his lips. Maybe that was just another excuse to touch him.
God, he was really starting to get used to touching him. Would that stop once his and Wayne's place was ready? Eddie wasn't ready for that. He stumbled into the kitchen where Steve was making breakfast again. Eddie frowned. It was his turn. He glanced at the clock on the wall. Shit, he had overslept. He blinked sleepily. Ugh, he stayed up late thinking about moving out and having to leave Steve in this big empty house. Eddie wrapped the blanket around himself and stumbled in behind Steve. He laid his head on his shoulder like he always did, but this time, he wrapped his arms around his waist. Eddie absent-mindedly rubbed Steve’s stomach.
"It's supposed to be my turn," Eddie said.
"Yeah, I figured you needed to sleep. I woke up at one point, and you were tossing and turning," Steve said.
"Thanks, Stevie," Eddie said and kissed his shoulder.
"So, what was troubling you?" Steve asked.
"The usual nightmares, you know," Eddie replied.
Steve turned off the stove and moved the pan off the burner. He turned around in Eddie's arms and hugged him tightly, running his hand down Eddie's spin.
"You know, you could have crawled into my bed with me last night," Steve said.
"Hey, you could have done the same thing," Eddie said.
"True," Steve said.
"I'm fine, big boy. Is breakfast done?" Eddie asked, and Steve nodded.
Breakfast was a quiet affair. Usually, it was filled with Eddie rambling on about anything with Steve sitting there, a goofy smile on his face. What the hell was he always smiling about? It was quiet when they cleaned up together, and when they got done with that, Steve couldn't take the quiet anymore.
"Okay, Eddie, what's wrong?" Steve asked.
"I don't want to move out," Eddie blurted out.
"What?" Steve asked.
"Look, Wayne hasn't said when the house would be ready, but I know it's probably going to be soon. I like living with you, and I don't want to move out," Eddie said.
"Eddie," Steve said softly. "I like living with you, and I don't want you to move out either."
"Cool," Eddie grinned.
"So, now that that's settled, is there anything else that's bothering you?" Steve asked.
"Well, I know you've been putting it off, but I've been learning sign language whenever you're ready to learn, and then I could be there to help you. . .you know, if you want to," Eddie said.
"Well, there's one sign that l know," Steve grinned and signed 'I love you' to Eddie.
Eddie blushed and signed it back to him.
"Plus, I really like the idea of talking with my hands," Eddie grinned.
"You're so sexy," Steve said, and Eddie nearly choked on his tongue.
Steve leaned in and kissed him. Eddie quickly returned the kiss and allowed Steve to pick him to set him on the counter. They made out heatedly against the cabinets until they could barely breathe. When they finally broke apart, their lips were red and swollen. Steve’s hair was sticking up completely from Eddie running his hands through it. It was a comical sight, and Eddie snickered, leaning his forehead against Steve’s. They stayed like that for a moment.
"What are you thinking about?" Steve asked.
"My uncle," Eddie replied.
"Okay," Steve said, pulling back. "This just took a weird turn."
"No," Eddie laughed. "I just need to tell him about my living situation with my. . .boyfriend?"
"Boyfriend," Steve confirmed.
"Okay. I'll call him, you go find us something to watch and then we can cuddle," Eddie said.
"That sounds nice," Steve said and gave him a quick kiss before leaving the room.
Steve was sprawled out on the couch and had just settled on something when Eddie walked back into the room.
"You won't believe this, but the house has been ready for a while now, and Wayne's already moved in. He said that I sounded like I was having too much fun living with 'my boy' that he didn't want to interrupt that," Eddie said.
He crawled onto the couch and burrowed his face into Steve’s chest, throwing his leg over Steve’s.
"Kind of hard to watch the TV like this," Steve laughed.
"Mm, your tits are a much better view, and they make a really good pillow," Eddie said.
Steve laughed again and kissed the top of his head.
"Mmm, perfect."
#stranger things#stranger things s4#eddie munson#joseph quinn#eddie stranger things#steve harrington#eddie munson lives#steddie#steve x eddie#steve harrington x eddie munson#steddie fanfiction#steddie ficlet#hard of hearing steve harrington#hoh steve harrington#everyone in my family including me is hoh but we still haven't learned sign language#eddie learns sign language for steve
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birdsong - steddie ficlet (-1.5k)
That time Steve got hearing aids.
Steve has been pissing people off for weeks and he knows it. He just doesn’t know what to do about it. It gets to the point where Dustin snaps at him for never paying attention to them. Steve starts to consider just leaving the country and starting new somewhere else. Somewhere it doesn't matter if he can hear who’s talking to him because he can't understand them anyways. He always thought Italy could be nice. Instead of running, he just shows up less. Both literally and metaphorically.
He starts bailing on more hangouts, figuring he won't be able to hear everyone so what's the point. When he is there he participates less in the conversation. He only engages when he’s really sure he can hear, which isn't a lot. It's mostly one-on-one or one-on-two. He doesn't think anyone notices, but they do. Eddie most of all feels Steve’s absence even when he’s sitting right next to him. He’s noticed the anxious tension in him when they're in groups. He just isn't sure what to do. So, he sits with a Steve-sized ache in his chest. There’s a day when the ache becomes too much, though, and Eddie breaks.
Steve sits in his living room with everyone strewn about. Eddie is next to him like he usually is unless Robin was already at Steve’s first. The kids lay and sit on the rug around the coffee table. Robin is on the other side of Eddie. Nancy sits with her legs tucked under her in a big armchair. The sound of conversation and life flows around him like a pebble in a stream. His edges have been smoothed so the water can move effortlessly, never catching on his surface. He can feel that there are words in the air around him, but there are too many other things around those words. Too much background noise and laughter. He can’t dig through it all in time to figure out what anyone is saying. So, he just stays silent like he has been.
“He’s not listening again,” Dustin says frustratedly.
Eddie frowns and looks at Steve. The movement catches Steve’s attention. He turns to look at Eddie with a small smile. Then he notices that it's more than just Eddie’s eyes on him. His blood runs cold and his throat dries.
“What?” He asks cautiously, eyes flitting to everyone else before landing on Eddie.
“Be honest, can you hear us?” Eddie answers Steve’s question with his own.
“I-”
“Be honest,” Eddie warns.
“No,” Steve sighs, “most of the time I can't really. I mean, I can hear you, but I can't tell what you're saying. It all garbles together like I’m underwater or something.”
“I think it's time to go to the doctor, Stevie,” Eddie says softly.
Steve frowns, but nods. There's a nervous twist in his stomach at the thought. He agrees to make an appointment the following day. Eddie hangs behind after everyone else leaves for a little bit. He does this sometimes and Steve’s never complained. Steve’s never thought about complaining. There's no surprise when Eddie gently grabs his hand either. He does that sometimes too.
“Do you want me to go with you?” Eddie asks.
The question nearly makes Steve cry. He wants to cry so bad. He wants to cry because he misses being able to hear his friends. He wants to cry because he’s scared of what's going to happen to what's left of his hearing. He wants to cry because Eddie is standing here offering to go to his doctor’s appointment with him like he’s a child. Mostly, he wants to cry because he’s so fucking happy Eddie offered and he doesn't have to ask. Steve nods.
“Yeah, if you don't mind,” he answers with a slight waver in his voice.
Eddie smiles all sticky and sweet at him. Steve silently wonders what he did to be worthy of a smile like that.
“‘Course I don't mind. Just tell me when and where and I’m there,” Eddie promises.
And he was. Eddie drives Steve to the ENT on the morning of his appointment the next week. He sat in the waiting room until Steve was done, but the knowledge he was there was enough. It was the same thing when Steve was sent to the Audiologist two weeks later. Eddie sat in the waiting room patiently while Steve sat in a booth answering all sorts of questions and prompts. It doesn't really sink in until he sees Eddie stand from his chair. The knit of his brow tells Steve his face says it all.
“What’s the verdict?” Eddie asks.
“They’ll let me know when to come in and be fitted for my hearing aids,” he sighs with a frown.
“That’s good!” Eddie smiles as they walk out of the office.
“Good? Eds, I’m going to have hearing aids,” Steve scoffs.
“Yeah, which means you’ll, y’know, be able to hear,” Eddie points out.
“Well, yeah, but-”
“Nope, no buts except yours in my van,” Eddie interrupts him and points to the passenger side as they approach the van.
Steve rolls his eyes with a small smile as he climbs in.
“I just don’t feel like it's that bad,” he admits quietly as the van choked to a start.
“How bad did they say it was?”
Steve remains silent for a beat as Eddie pulls out. He sighs and glances out the window at the building as they leave.
“I'm working with sixty percent of my hearing in one ear and seventy in the other,” he tells Eddie.
“Stevie,” Eddie breathes with a shake of his head, “If the doctors say these things will help you then they’re worth a shot. M’tired of you bailing out on things- yeah, I noticed.”
Steve’s face flushes at being caught like that. He exhales slowly and nods.
“Okay,” he agrees, “I’ll give them a shot.”
A couple weeks later he’s called into the office for his hearing aids. Eddie is so quick to drop what he’s doing to go with him it nearly gives Steve whiplash. The sight of Eddie’s van pulling up gives a strange swooping sensation that he's grown used to around Eddie. The appointment itself takes around an hour. Then Steve is walking out fashioned with two white hearing aids hooked over his ears. His eyes are wide as they bounce to the television and then the clacking behind the desk. Eddie beams at him and stands. Steve looks beautiful so stunned. Hell, Eddie can admit that Steve just looks beautiful.
“C’mon, Stevie, let’s go give’em a spin,” he says with a wolfish grin.
Steve laughs and nods. They don't get far, though. Once they step foot outside Steve comes to a halt. He makes a noise that's a cross between choking and a sob. Eddie’s hands fly to examine him for injury, but there is none. Steve’s lip wobbles, his face is blotchy and red, and his warm toffee eyes are trained on the tree a few feet away. Eddie’s mouth opens to ask, but then Steve’s eyes are on him like that. His eyes overflow with more emotion than Eddie knew a human could hold.
“The birds,” Steve croaks.
“What about’em?” Eddie’s brows furrow.
He glances accusingly at the little chirping finches in the tree. Steve chuckles wetly at the sight.
“I- I can hear them. It’s been so long- I didn't even realize,” Steve shakes his head, “I don’t know the last time I’ve actually heard the birds.”
Steve’s wonder-filled gaze turns back to the birds in question. He laughs again, heartier this time at the notion. He can hear birds.
“Shit,” Eddie whispers to himself, “I’m so in love with you.”
At least he thought it was to himself. An hour ago it would have been to himself. Steve’s face whips around with huge eyes. His lips part slightly as he watches Eddie stunned. Eddie freezes, absolutely terrified. He’s so sure he just fucked it all up.
“I can hear you too,” Steve whispers.
Eddie swallows the lump in his throat.
“Nah, pretty sure that was a bird too,” he attempts to joke it off.
“I really hope not,” Steve frowns.
Eddie blinks hopefully.
“Really? Why?”
“Because I’m in love with you too.”
Safe to say, Steve is very happy he got hearing aids.
Masterlist - beta read by @steveslilshorts
#no im not working through things around my own hearing shut up#steddie#steddie brainrot#steddie fic#steddie blurb#steddie ficlet#steve harrington x eddie munson#steve harrington#eddie munson#hard of hearing steve harrington
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#I'm just saying, there's no way he was knocked around that many times without consequences
#stedit#strangerthingsedit#hard of hearing steve harrington#byholloway#steve harrington#steveharringtonedit#eddie munson#eddiemunsonedit#gifs#useraurore#stranger things
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Batteries
“Ah fuck..” Eddie gets woken up by his husband’s swearing, which he hasn’t done in quite a while. He sits up in bed, and realizes that Steve’s in the bathroom with the door open. “You alright, sweetheart?” he asks, frowning. He doesn’t get a response. “Stevie?” He asks again, louder this time, but he still doesn’t get a reaction. “Do you have your hearing aids in?” No answer. “Alright, so no.” He smiles, getting up from the bed and walking to the bathroom, where he sees Steve with a towel around his waist, hair still damp, with one of his hearing aids in his hand, the other’s laying on the edge of the sink.
“Hi, Eds. Sorry if you yelled, didn’t hear you.” He grimaces, rubbing his fist in circles on his chest, the sign for ‘sorry’. He’s been learning for over a month now, and Eddie’s so proud of him. He’s been combining speaking and signing, it’s hard on his brain, but he does it either way. Eddie pinches both his index fingers against his thumbs, shaking them a little in front of his chest. ‘No big deal’, that means. “Thanks. I can’t find my batteries, d’you know where they are?” Steve turns to him, ready to read his lips, but Eddie just shakes his head. “Alright, fuck, I guess. Can you run to the store and get me some? I think I’m all out, and I’d like to hear you.” That makes Eddie smile. “Of course ya do, sweetheart,” He presses a kiss on his forehead, and then his lips, “I’ll get dressed, and then I’ll run to the store for you, no worries. How did you find out they were dead?” Steve huffs. “I went out for a run and I almost got flattened by a truck because I couldn’t hear it.” Eddie raises his brows, “Are you okay?” “Yeah yeah, I’m fine, just get dressed and get me my batteries.” Eddie smirks. "What’s the magic word?” Steve smirks as well, pressing a kiss on the side of his mouth, and then he starts whispering. “I’ll let you fuck me.” Eddie speeds towards their bedroom, stumbling to get himself in some pants, for fuck’s sake. He’s grinning the whole time, and when he comes back in the bathroom, he kisses Steve loudly.
“Close enough.”
---
@steddieas-shegoes totally not inspired by that one request you got
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ive been thinking about hard of hearing steve, who started losing his hearing after starcourt, the scoops troops are the first to find out because of how attached they are, robin erica and dustin all insist on steve learning to sign but he's insecure about learning a new language so they slowly learn and start teaching him
after vecna, eddie gets adopted to their little group and starts picking up on the signs and learning on his own, still struggles to hold a conversation, esp with the likes of robin or dustin, but he atleast knows simple words and phrases enough to communicate, eddie also gets into the habit of signing ILY to steve before he leaves, except steve rarely studies asl on his own most of what he remembers is from robin/erica/dustin, who never thought to teach him that specific sign, so steve just thinks eddie is just being a metalhead throwing up a 'rock on' gesture, hes still absolutely endeared by eddie doing this but he doesn't realize that eddie saying he loves him everyday, what follows is a ridiculous amount of pining where only steve doesn't know because everyone else know what that sign means, he only finds out because after gossiping with robin(who has tried to tell steve that its reciprocated) about eddie, erica interupts their convo by telling steve that eddie tells him he loves steve everyday (that clown is so obviously in love with you, how are you still pining? you're supposed to be a expert, steve?)
(edit 07/23: this fic is now on ao3)
#she says this loudly in the middle of an empty family video eddie walks in during the middle of the argument that follows#immediately gets roasted and gets a boyfriend bc steve is not running from the chance in front of him#yes i am projecting my hearing loss onto steve deal with it#also i dont like the idea that steve hates himself for losing his hearing even if its from tramua bc it makes me feel shitty about mine#instead i like to think he leans into it like a grandpa he might never get hearing aids or maybe he does and avoids ever turning them on#but i do think he would be insecure about trying to learn a new language when he previously has shown to struggle with school#so even after eight months of learning he's still kinda learning basic signs while the other scoop troops are catching on more#hard of hearing steve is something so personal to me#stranger things#steddie#steve harrington#eddie munson#hoh steve harrington#hard of hearing steve harrington#stranger things headcanons#steddie ficlet
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Request:hard of hearing Steve who realizes that the party are doing their best to accommodate him by learning ASL, using subtitles, etc and he is overwhelmed with joy about that bc nobody else seems to be doing it. Robin, Jonathan, Nancy, Eddie, Argyle & Wayne go to ASL classes with Steve. And just being supported the whole time
MY LOVE! This one's a bit on the shorter side because the struggle is real with words today. I still feel like it gets the emotions across that Steve feels about the party loving him and supporting him, which is what's most important. That post-vacation depression is hitting me so so hard. Enjoy! - Mickala ❤️
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The hearing in his left ear went first. It wasn’t a slow and steady loss of hearing so much as one day he could hear fine, the next sounded like water was blocking it, and the next he couldn’t hear at all.
No doctor could explain what happened, and they’d assumed it was just a delayed reaction to the head trauma he’s experienced.
They recommended he prepare for hearing loss in his other ear.
They said it so casually, like it was fine and something easy to handle. Like he wasn’t panicking at the fact that he wouldn’t be able to hear anything.
He started learning sign language, late nights sitting with Robin as she worked through VHS tapes from the library with him and Eddie.
He didn’t tell anyone else at first, didn’t want to scare them or make them feel like they had to treat him differently.
But they noticed.
They saw the way he turned a certain way when they were talking, leaning his head subtly so his right ear was facing towards conversations.
They saw his hands moving in fluid patterns when he thought they weren’t looking. El was the one who pointed it out, her own limited experience with sign language just enough to figure out he was practicing basic sentences.
They saw how he kept touching his left ear, like if he touched it, maybe his hearing would come back.
So they went to Robin, all of them, begging her to teach them sign language, begging her to keep it a secret from him.
But even Robin didn’t really know much, and all she knew was self taught, so they struggled after a few lessons.
Eventually, Steve had to tell them.
He could tell some of his hearing in his right ear was going, though at least it was happening much slower.
He sat them all down, Eddie next to him holding his hand, Robin on the other side with an unreadable expression on her face.
And when they all already knew, he felt Eddie squeeze his hand, felt tears run down his cheeks without his permission as everyone surrounded him in a group hug.
Within a week, they all signed up for ASL classes in Indy, Eddie and Nancy driving everyone, everyone chipping in for gas even though Eddie offered to pay for it.
As if that wasn’t overwhelming enough, knowing his chosen family all loved him enough to learn an entire language just to be able to communicate with him, they all started figuring out subtitles for movie nights.
Dustin, Eddie, and Jeff figured out a system that let Steve feel the actual note changes of Eddie’s guitar instead of just the same vibrations through the whole song.
They kept a whiteboard in every room, called it Steve Sharades (“for the alliteration!”), and used it as a message board when they weren’t sure of the signs for certain words or phrases.
He was thankful for that when he woke up one morning to near silence.
Just a slight buzzing in his right ear.
When Eddie said good morning, he only knew because he read his lips.
He cried, he felt lost, scared, alone.
But only for a little while.
His family had been preparing for this, had taught themselves how to still give Steve as much of “normal” as they could.
That night was dinner with Wayne, who had been warned about this possibly happening, and probably got a warning from Eddie while Steve was in the shower earlier.
When they arrived at his trailer, he pulled Steve into a hug, arms tightening until he could barely breathe.
He could feel Wayne’s heartbeat against his chest, felt ihs hands on his back, wide and strong, holding him together.
When he pulled away, he started signing as he spoke so Steve could read his hands or his lips.
All okay, son?
Steve sobbed, but nodded.
Wayne had learned sign language, too.
Steve turned to Eddie to hug him, knew he was the one responsible for teaching Wayne secretly.
Steve told them both he loved them, showed them in every way he could, too.
Just like they showed him.
#steddie#steve harrington#eddie munson#stranger things#robin buckley#the party#request#ficlet#hard of hearing steve harrington
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Steve tells everyone to stand on his his right side because it’s his “good side” but they all assume he’s being vain and thinks he looks best from that side and they crack jokes about it because they don’t realize that he’s really he’s saying that because his hearing is gone in his left ear and he only has peripheral vision on his right side
He leans into the misunderstanding and laughs along with everyone though because he prefers it that way and he prefers not worrying them so it stays a running joke to the point where his friends start unprompted going wait, let me stand on your good side sometimes and it’s all fun and games until shit hits the fan once again and Steve’s trying to play his protector role by putting himself between everyone else and the danger and he rushes to yell at all of them to get on his good side and when Dustin’s like “Steve, now’s not the time to worry about how you look”, Steve snaps back at him but his voice raises in pitch in panic as he insists “I can’t protect you if I can’t see or hear if something else is coming for you” and the kids are all shocked to find out what Steve’s good side actually means but they remember which side he means from all the joking around and they scramble over to it
Nancy, on the other hand, thinks that’s a stupid idea and that Steve not being able to tell if something is coming for them or him from that direction is all the more reason to cover that side herself, so she intentionally slides the opposite way of everyone else to take over that side and keep them all safe
The jokes stop after that, but they all stick to Steve’s right side even more now that they realize there’s an actual reason he wants them there
#I’m debating writing a fic about this and I could probably be tempted pretty easily#Might even end up writing it without tempting at some point#Steve Harrington#Dustin Henderson#Nancy Wheeler#Stranger Things#ST4#ST#hoh Steve Harrington#visually impaired Steve Harrington#hard of hearing Steve Harrington#Mine
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Eddie thinking Steve is fully Deaf so he accidentally confessed his undying love to him, unaware that Steve heard the entire thing.
#steve harrington#steddie#eddie munson#steve x eddie#steveddie#eddie x steve#stranger things#stranger things s4#steve is Deaf#hard of hearing steve harrington#steve has brain damage#steve has head trauma#fanfic idea
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when you're fifteen
Even as he hands over the platter of chocolate chip miracles he makes, Steve sighs. It's a full bodied affair that makes Eddie nervous on instinct. "We need to talk about Mike."
It is and isn't a surprise.
Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson; Steve Harrington & Mike Wheeler
WC: 4044 | Rated T | Tags/Themes: Good Babysitter Steve, Period Atypical Depictions of DnD, HoH!Steve, Disabled!Eddie
Ao3
Eddie prided himself on his ability to manage a table. A forever DM, four years into a lifetime sentence, he can keep a story on track and, more importantly, keep tempers in check for hours at a time.
He kept track of a thousand little details across notebooks, binders, and just trapped in his own brain. He knew everything about his NPCs, the world, his player’s characters, and the things that drove his players nuts. He had plans, backup plans, and vague ideas of shit he could do if things went completely and totally off the rails despite all of those plans. That was one of the things he held fast on his tongue the first time he failed senior year. Of course he didn’t pass. He’d taken on the mantle of Dungeon Master. He had to put together a story that took into account: Jeff’s high stakes backstory with the missing mother and bounty on his head, Gareth’s need to flirt with anything age appropriate that had a pulse, and Joey’s tactical mind when it comes to battle. Wasn’t it enough that he was going to class, he had to do shit at home about it too?
He didn’t like saying it. He liked to bitch about it a lot, actually. Eddie wasn’t really sure what he’d do with himself if he wasn’t The DM. It was like a core part of his identity.
It made the current situation he was in more world rocking than he really wanted to deal with.
He liked to think, if he couldn’t feel the remaining muscles in his side screaming in agony because he was sitting wrong -- or for too long or both -- and if his lower back wasn’t seizing and spasming for the same or maybe a brand new reason it had decided to come up with today, that he’d be able to manage this table just as well as he always had. Eight really wasn’t that different from three.
Except that combat is impossible to manage, each round took forever and that’s when everyone was paying attention. Except that there hasn’t been a satisfying story moment for Jeffrey the Jovial or Dustin’s Sir Rathington in the last four sessions. Except that Erica has been scribbling something in her notebook that probably wasn’t campaign notes since she hadn’t called him on the plot hole he caught session planning a month ago and hasn’t been able to fix -- and is more likely to have something to do with the way he noticed her looking at Uhura and Chapel when she was watching Star Trek reruns with Steve.
Except that Mike has been screaming at Dustin and Lucas for the better part of five minutes and Eddie really isn’t sure how to fix it.
“The plan is stupid. Did you even spend more than ten seconds thinking about it or did you decide that Will could just roll another character and we could save the resources.”
“Will could roll another character. It's not the first time he's rolled another character.” Lucas points out for what might be the third time, Eddie’s lost count.
“This whole thing is about resources, Mike.” Dustin snaps, “We’ll all be rolling new characters if we go into this stupid fucking fight while Gareth has no spell slots, Lucas is down to three arrows, Joey’s already used his second wind, and half the party is below half health.”
“It doesn’t matter, if we don’t go into the fight now Will is going to turn into some bloodsucking vampire spawn.”
Eddie knows this is the point that he should grab the reins again. He should prompt one of them to make a decision, or better yet, take the decision away from them entirely. But there’s a numbness in his thigh that has somehow spread to his mouth; it’s different from the pain the rest of his body is in, not really better or worse, and just as distracting.
The rest of the table is quiet, boredom and annoyance plain on their faces. But they’ve also stopped looking to him to fix the problem. That’s the worst thing the Upside Down took from him, he thinks, even as his body is radiating pain from places he used to be able to forget he had.
“Or maybe it’s a trap,” Lucas points out. And it should be, but Lucas is a far better tactician than Eddie who already knows he won’t want to deal with the work it would take to do that well. “Y’know since you made all your weak spots pretty clear to Lord Ellias.”
“Or,” Dustin drawls out with a Harrington’s level of bitch and ire, “we could trust Eddie to turn this into a fucking story moment.”
“You guys are both so full of shit, just-” Mike has his nose curled and lip snarled, Eddie can feel the breeze of the blade swinging down to deliver the death blow to this campaign and adventuring party.
“Alright time to take a break.” Steve claps his hands, an angel come from on high to save Eddie. “Get up, get a snack, move your feet. Give my dining room some time to air out before it smells like nerd forever.”
Mike turns the full weight of his aggression on to Steve, who hopefully has a damage immunity or advantage on saves at the very least otherwise this is looking like a short talk, “We can't just take a break. Do you not get what the stakes are here? We've got to save-”
“Save someone who will still be in danger in twenty minutes.” Steve steamrolls over Mike’s argument with an unaffected ease. Eddie can feel the mood of the table lift just a bit, now that they’re about to be rescued.
“You just don't get it.”
“I get that it's pretend.” In a pre-Vencapocalypse world that would have been enough to get Eddie fighting on Little Wheeler’s side, but much as DnD is still his life. Fuck, it is all just pretend. “Go take a lap.”
“Ugh why do we even come over here. We could do this at my house without washed up jocks interrupting us.” Mike says but he gets up. Storming off to god knows where in the monstrosity of Steve’s house. Will, quiet as he always seems to get when he’s the center of one of these drag outs, trails off after Mike with an eye roll at the other two sophomores and an apologetic shrug for Steve.
And Eddie has his table again. Quiet and still, waiting for him to say something. Like there’s even anything to say when his very own Deus Ex Machina is leaving the room without so much as a backward glance at the poor schmucks he’s saved. “Well,” he says with a clap of his hands, “My blood sugar is dropping, so I’m going to shove as many of those cookies I smelled earlier into my mouth as I can in twenty minutes.” Because as much as they weren’t looking to him before, they need the DM to break the spell of the table. That’s how the whole thing goes.
And they scatter once it breaks. Eddie’s original Hellfire boys stay at the table, their ease at the Harrington house has been hardwon and the argument has rekindled something nerdy and skittish in them. Erica has headed off to the corner of the house Steve has let her claim as her own, nose still buried in her notebook. He doesn’t know where Lucas and Dustin are, but wherever they’ve gone they aren’t around to watch him struggle to pull himself out of his throne with his cane. He should just give in and let Steve raise the seat, half the problem is that it sits too low -- but knowing that and being willing to admit it at any point other than when he’s in PT levels of misery from pulling himself up are very different things.
Steve has his back to the door again, by the time Eddie makes his way to the kitchen. He has a bizarre semi-awareness of his surroundings that can be hard to predict. Sometimes it’s freaky how Steve can call out Dustin or Erica from a different room with an almost parental ‘eyes in the back of his head’ sixth sense. Other times his own soulmate can get the drop on him, managing to get her arms wrapped around his middle before he even realizes they’re in the same room.
It’s better to slam his cane against the floor a couple times. To let Steve feel the vibrations through the floorboards with his sock feet, that way nobody has to get hurt or feel guilty for doing the hurting.
Getting to see Steve’s grin bloom across his face as he flips that famous hair and catches sight of Eddie isn’t so bad either.
Next to Steve, it’s safe to prop his cane against the counter. He can rest his hips against the sure, solid surface and relax in the presence of his boyfriend while the blood returns to his limbs and a new kind of discomfort settles in. A hand, warm and sudsy finds the back of his neck. A strong thumb digging into a knot that had been there since at least last week with an erotic precision.
“You’ve got to stop letting them keep you in that chair for so long.”
"If we take breaks we'll just be here longer."
He shrugs, pulling his other hand from the dish water to pull Eddie into a gentle hold. "So be here longer."
"You'd get sick of the fighting. I'd get sick of the fighting." Actually it was probably better not to remind Steve of that. "You know I really did want one of those famous Stevie Henderson cookies."
Even as he hands over the platter of chocolate chip miracles he makes, Steve sighs. It's a full bodied affair that makes Eddie nervous on instinct. "We need to talk about Mike."
It is and isn't a surprise. "I know the yelling is a lot, Sweetheart, I'm sorry. You don't have a migraine, do you? I can talk to him and make him chill out a bit." That last part is absolutely a lie; he doesn't think he could get Mike under control right now if he had a stun gun and half a pound of Argyle’s primo Cali weed.
Not that it matters Steve has on his scrunchy faced 'you're wrong about something,' look, Eddie just needs to give him the minute it'll take to get his thoughts together. "You know I love you right?"
“In this dimension and any others,” Eddie supplies.
Steve smiles, feather soft, and runs a soothing hand through Eddie's hair the way he always does right before he says something atrociously bitchy. "I turn my hearing aids off the second you all start playing. If I had to listen to your game three different times, three different ways I'd drive my car into a portal."
He keeps going the way he does when he's afraid he's been too mean and wants to try to soften his edges for general consumption, like Eddie hadn't fallen in love with him the first time he called Dusin a butthead. "This way you and Dust can still use me as a sounding board for your plots and theories and I don't have to listen to my favorite nerds try to remember if 5+7 is 11 or 12."
“So what’s?”
“I’m worried about him!” Steve insists. Eddie might pride himself on his ability to handle a table, but he knows Steve is proud of his way with the kids. His relationship with each of them is rich and distinct, the way he handles each of them unique.
But it’s Mike.
Something must cross his face. He can only call it something, because he’s honestly not sure what emotion he’s feeling other than headache and how many cookies can I eat before they start tasting like nausea. But something else must have been there that causes Steve to cross his arms and glare.
“Yeah, of course, you’re worried about him. We are worried about him. Why are we worried about him, other than worried about what an asshole he’s been lately?”
That was not the right thing to say either, Eddie’s really rolling straight ones today. Steve’s glare shutters even further closed, and seriously it’s Mike. The same kid who called Steve a washed up jock not ten minutes ago. Who takes every single offered opportunity, and even some that he makes himself, to bitch and glare at Hawkins own #1 babysitter and monster hunter.
“He’s a teenager with more trauma than a ‘Nam vet. But even if he weren’t he’s not an asshole for being barely fifteen and not knowing when to shut the hell up. Do you remember the kind of shit you were saying back then?”
Big brother Steve has successfully landed a critical hit. Eddie does remember the kind of shit he used to say. Just like he knows Steve remembers the kind of shit he used to say. And they both remember the shit that they used to say to one another. How Eddie called Steve a braindead future Reganite who wouldn’t know good taste if it spit in his mouth. How Steve had called Eddie a tryhard that was so desperate to be different because that was the only way he could hide having nothing to offer.
“So we’re worried?”
“I just don’t want him to say something he can’t walk back because he forgot the thing he’s getting upset over is pretend.” He runs a finger down Eddie’s splayed hands. A tickling sensation he can feel down the path it traces from the back of his palm and down his middle finger and, in a phantom mirror, down his spine. “I know you get into your characters, or whatever, I’m sure this is bringing up a lot of memories but he’s going to regret lashing out if it means he pushes away Dustin or Lucas or one of the other guys.”
“I notice you left out Will.”
“Yeah well, Will is more likely to get hurt by something he says when lashing out while they aren’t playing exposure therapy the game. I mean seriously, you had to kidnap him? That’s where your, ‘Stevie, baby, what should I do with them this week? They decided to do something stupid,’ bitching and moaning landed you?”
Eddie doesn’t even really have time to let himself feel the fluttery, squishy feeling he wants to feel -- cause Steve does actually listen when they’ve got their feet tangled on the sofa together, each working on their own things -- before it’s getting smacked by down by the paladin of his heart. “No, no, that isn’t where I landed. I had a perfectly acceptable diplomacy mission prepared, with a back up fight that they were supposed to run away from. What do you want me to do, Sunshine? I gotta give the game some stakes. It’s not exactly fun for Will if he knows he’s indestructible.”
Maybe, he thinks, he should just stop talking today. Just cancel the rest of the session entirely. Will gets carried off by the vampire spawn, half dead and unsaveable, the party on its last legs, unable to agree on a course of action; and actually that’s where we’re gonna end things come back next week and hope Steve even lets us in the house after the screaming we’ve all done. Why? Because he can feel every joint in his body and every one of them is in pain. Because there’s been the dull throb of a low grade headache beating an even pulse in his temples since he woke up this morning. But mostly because every time he opens his stupid fucking mouth to talk Steve stops touching him, and that sucks absolute balls.
“I maybe had an idea,” Steve says. His voice dips and slides while he keeps his hands small, quiet, and close to his chest. Something Robin told him, and he’s now noticing, means Steve has thought about this idea a lot, long enough that he’s convinced himself it’s bad. Eddie’s noticed that even when these ideas aren’t phrased well, they’re never bad.
“I know it’s like rule number one: don’t split the party,” Steve can’t help but roll his eyes when he says it, an instinctive bit of brotherly mockery of Dustin, he would guess. “But what if you split the group a bit. Mike can go after Will, I’m sure Erica would be down to kill some vampires. She loves a chance to test drive her new feats and shit. Then Jeff and Dustin and whoever else can finish up that thing? With the missing girlfriend or whatever? And once that’s done they reunite to do whatever’s next on the list, save the kingdom.”
Eddie sits with that for a bit.
Impulsive is still his middle name, but sometime between being eaten alive by other dimensional hell creatures and getting a thousand and six tiny, itchy stitches removed he’s started giving things second and even third thoughts. Though in this case the second thoughts are less ‘is this a good idea’ and more ‘will Steve bend me over that solid oak dining table and critique my DM notes while he rails me.’
As his stomach swoops, his lower body twinges in a much less enjoyable way. Letting him know that now he’d been standing too long, or leaning against the counter the wrong way, or maybe something else entirely that made his legs tired of doing one of the few things they were made to do.
Figures he finally lands a hot boyfriend and he's got chronic pain keeping him from getting his dick wet.
“If you’ve already got another idea-”
“No,” he rushes to assure Steve, who needs to stay confident in his own ideas for all kinds of reasons but right now mostly so he’ll be willing to play into this new fantasy of Eddie’s once his body is willing to cooperate with the standing and the bending it’s going to require. “No, it’s a fantastic idea. I’m plotting as we speak.”
And that isn’t a total lie. Forever DM, he can think about all the fun ways the love of his life and reason he’s still living could degrade his current campaign -- An oath of vengeance paladin questing to save a lost love, isn’t that a little played out. Oh wow, rat swarms in a dungeon, they’re never gonna see that coming -- and figure out how to trick the group into thinking splitting the party was their own idea.
“How long,” he asks his resident child expert, “do you think it would take Will to roll up a new character?”
The smile that tips the corners of Steve’s face is the best part of his day. “Will always has an extra character rolled up with the rest of his stuff in his folder."
Things are slotting together in his head now, and as Steve's hands come around to do something magical in a spot on his back that probably has a name but mostly makes his legs feel like they should really belong to a baby deer.
“So Will…”
“Can convince Mike, and get a chance to try out the new thingy he built. He’s been waiting to talk to you about it.”
Eddie’s getting excited now, hands shaking in the good way. He doesn’t even care that his knee locks as he tries to bounce on his toes, just lets his hands get out the excited energy. “And the band can go do the story side plot shit I’ve been putting off…”
“With Dustin,” Steve reminds, “cause he’ll want to go wherever there’s the best chance to stir up shit. You already know Erica is going to go where there’s a chance to prove she’s the best at fighting, Lucas too. Not the fighting thing. He’ll go to round out the group, and so his mom doesn’t have to worry about keeping track of one more thing on the family calendar.”
“You’re a genius, Sweetheart.” He snags Steve by the collar, ignoring his bitching that the two fingered pinch he’s got it in is going to stretch it out, and pulls him close. Pressing a kiss on the corner of his perfect boyfriend’s pleased little smile. “I gotta go talk to Will about this character.”
“Send Mike down when you do?”
He’s surprised when he gets no argument, barely gets acknowledgement, when he finds Will and Mike in the guest bathroom and separates them. Mike slips from the room with nothing but a backward glance at Will, who smiles supportively. Once he clears the room, it takes next to zero prompting to get Will to talk about his backup character. The ‘thingy’ he'd been working on a tricked out ranger build that's going to annihilate.
There's something fresh, brightening, about Will's enthusiasm for the character that infects Eddie too. It gets him excited, for the first time since everyone arrived, to sit down around their over crowded table and play the hour of set up it's going to take to get the party ready to be split.
And Will doesn't duck his head anymore when Eddie pushes at him and his DnD expertise, he just pushes back. Together they work out a couple tweaks that will make the build fit better in the party, flesh out a backstory that they can integrate even if it doesn't end up going anywhere, and it doesn't really feel like time passes at all. Until Sinclair is sticking his head through the door, surprise artfully hidden at who he finds, as he asks if they're ready to go.
Mike is conspicuously absent from the table when Eddie makes his way to it, and that won't do at all. He's not an asshole, he's just 15. Something like shame crawls up the back of his throat as Steve's reminder sounds in his head. He remembers 15 and the things he said but more than that, as he looks around the table, he remembers being the last to arrive at a hangout of people you're already worried hate you only to find them having a good time without you.
Eddie has always prided himself on his ability to run a good session. "Stevie, gimme back our paladin, do I need to bring in a hostage negotiator."
A cookie held in one hand while the other smooths down the ruffled fringe of his bangs, Mike re-enters the dining room. The back of his Hellfire shirt is bunched and, if that weren't sign enough he'd been on the receiving end of a perfect Harrington hug, he looks settled. A smile tugging at his face that Eddie hadn't realized how much he missed, he looks boyish and happy and if Eddie didn't before he understands Steve's mission to keep these kids kids by whatever means necessary.
"Alright, now where were we?” He says once Mike is back in his seat beside Will, “Ah yes, you all watch in horror as the vampire spawn, hastened, dash away from you all with the unconscious, but still alive, body of Sir William the Wizened." Before anyone can restart the shouting, and he knows there will be shouting now that they’ve all had a chance to look over their notes and their character sheets, he barrels on. “From the hill behind you comes a shot. An arrow flies, thwip thwip. It slices between you all, before sinking into the back of one of the spawn at the back of the pack. He stumbles to the ground and the rest of the pack leave him to die.”
“We can interrogate him!”
“Worry about who’s behind us, dude.”
He doesn’t let Mike or Dustin derail him, Eddie continues, “As you turn the hill behind you is nothing but mist. You all know the range of an elven bow, but whoever fired it is nowhere to be seen. You wait, breath held, as a figure all in black slowly approaches. You get the feeling you see him now only because he wants to be seen.
“Will, describe your new character for us!”
#steddie#steve and mike#mike wheeler#good babysitter steve harrington#hard of hearing steve harrington#disabled eddie munson#its the mikes not an asshole he's just a traumatized teenager fic#yknow the one no one was waiting for#for my tag readers will homebrewed a prototype gloomstalker#and the author borrowed the hardwon vampire arc from naddpod#my fic
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Stobin commission done for @ironic-sonder! Thank you so much for commissioning me <3
#steve harrington#robin buckley#stranger things#stobin#platonic stobin#steve harrington fanart#robin buckley fanart#stobin fanart#trans steve harrington#deaf steve harrington#hard of hearing steve harrington#hoh steve harrington#stranger things#stranger things fanart#my art#commission#commissions open#digital art#digital illustration#targetf0rcedraws
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steve has good days and not so good days. they intermix often, some weeks with more good than not so good and vice versa. there are months that pass by in a lovely wave of only good days which normally consist of sunshine outside his window and a certain curly head in his bed. the not so good are actually not so bad and can be coddled with a kiss and arms around him. they aren't fun, but they're manageable; he still feels like a person even if head is telling him otherwise.
but along with the good, there has to be the bad. the days where it's harder to get out of bed even if a certain curly head is pulling at his arms and heartstrings. days where his head is foggy, the memory of something so clearly there but it's impossible to wipe away the condensation that covers the looking glass into the past. days where his bones ache and he wants -needs- to pass it off as an incoming storm messing with his joints but he knows it's not. days where he doesn't speak, his throat feeling tight with anger and frustration, afraid that when he does let out a sound that it'll only be a scream.
waking up on his birthday, what's supposed to be a good day, with a ringing in his ears that keeps him on a dizzying ledge is never a good sign. he has eddie standing in the doorway and he sees him mouth something, or maybe he whispers it, and he has on that soft simple smile that has steve craving to know what he said. the ringing muffles whatever he says next and he knows it's something lovely because eddie's lovely and only has lovely poetic things to tell him on special days.
but steve can't hear it.
the sunlight is beautiful and it breaks his heart. he can see specks of dust floating through the rays and sees the way it paints eddie's curls golden and he can't help but wish it wasn't so goddamn bright in their room because it hurts his head even more than usual. eddie senses it because of course he does; he's able to read steve like the book with a broken spine and frayed pages that he is.
the curtains are pulled closed leaving a red hue over the room and there's a kiss pressed between his furrowed eyebrows. steve sighs, melts into eddie's touch, chases after him with open arms like a child for a lingering birthday hug.
"the ringing, it's- i can't hear today," steve breathes out, afraid to whisper because even that can be too much. it happens on bad days where all he can hear is his own dampened voice rattling in his skull. he never talks above a whisper, afraid that his voice will be loud and booming when he feels too small to handle it.
"i know," eddie says slowly and his eyes follow steve's down as he watches the words form on his lips. his hand cups steve's cheek and it's warm and grounding and he feels he can breathe again. steve doesn't have to read lips to know his next 3 muttered words that are followed with a kiss, the words that are stamped on his heart, the words that a brain which struggles with memory can't take away.
it's a bad day that should have been a good day mixed in between some maybe not so bad days. but he has eddie. eddie who pulls the curtains closed and holds him like he matters and lets his fingertips run over steve's temples in the barest of soothing touches like he could take away the pain because he wills it so. and if he has eddie, the bad days can never really that bad, can they?
#it's been a while since i've written sad steve so enjoy#steddie#steddie headcanon#my writing#steve harrington#hard of hearing steve harrington#eddie munson#steddie drabble#steddie ficlet#(also side note i am absolutely not saying that having a partner will 'fix' chronic illness/pain/trauma but it's nice to have someone...#... to lean on)
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in honor of Part 1 getting 100 likes and like 15 reblogs! (a lot for tiny stupid me lol) i decided to suck it up and write another part bc ppl have asked for it
IF YOU HAVEN'T READ PART ONE, PLEASE DO SO!
After Robin found out, things were a bit better for Steve. The two of them practiced their signs during slow shifts at the Family Video. Robin showed him a new sign every day and helped him improve his lip reading. It benefited his daily life too. Gone were the days when he had to walk all the way across the store to talk to Robin, now the two of them could have conversations from opposite sides of the store, their hands flying fast as they spoke.
Robin was a fucking godsend, bullying Keith into giving Steve more time off in case of migraines and providing excuses when he couldn't drive the kids around. She begged Steve to wear his hearing aids, eventually telling him that if he played his cards right he could cover them up with his hair, which ultimately convinced him. She'd helped him find a new hairstyle that almost eliminated them completely, clapping her hands excitedly as the shock on his face was evident when he turned them on and could differentiate sounds again.
Of course, there were still things that were hard, even with the hearing aids. Steve needed to be directly facing someone in order to have a basic understanding of what they were saying, and there couldn't be anything obstructing their mouth. This proved especially difficult when Steve interacted with the younger Party members, although they continued to chalk it up to Steve's usual airheadedness. For once, he was grateful to be stereotyped as a dumb jock.
One random day in October, however, things began to change.
Dustin had somehow roped Steve into driving him, Mike, and Lucas to some fancy-ass comic store in Indianapolis, claiming that "the one in Hawkins is not nearly comprehensive enough, Steve". He'd rolled his eyes and responded with what they referred to as his "Mom Pose", his hands on his hips and his eyebrow cocked as he stared at them judgementally. Eventually, though, he'd relented, letting them fight over who got shotgun and who had to sit in the back.
Somehow, although he himself didn't quite seem to know how, Lucas managed to snag the front seat. He'd slid in quietly as Dustin and Mike threw themselves into the backseat, yelling obnoxiously about unfairness and favoritism. Steve refrained from pointing out that he'd had no part in the tussle for shotgun, instead allowing it to play out.
He and Lucas had been engaging in conversation about sports when Lucas had quietly mentioned that he was thinking of trying out for the school's basketball team, tentatively asking Steve if they could meet up the next weekend so he could give him some pointers. Steve had agreed without even thinking, but he began to panic once he got home later that afternoon. How was he supposed to go over skills in basketball when he couldn't even hear out of his left ear?
But in typical Steve fashion, he procrastinated until the last minute, eventually deciding that he simply wouldn't wear the hearing aids. He'd be fine for one basketball practice, right?
And so, Steve drove to the basketball courts that Saturday, removing his hearing aids as he arrived, and thus reintroducing a fuzzy ringing in his ears that he hadn't experienced in a long time. It felt alien, but he shook his head around a bit and started to shoot baskets. He'd forgotten how good sports made him feel, and was pleasantly surprised at the adrenaline that began pumping through his veins. In fact, his new lack of hearing made it easier for him to practice, as it allowed him to tune out the rest of the world and focus solely on himself and his own fluid motions.
This did prove to be a slight problem, however, as he didn't hear Lucas dropping his stuff on the bench, nor did he notice him walking up to Steve. So the tapping on his shoulder startled him far more than it should have.
"Jesus Sinclair!" Steve exclaimed. "You scared the shit outta me, man!" Lucas seemed confused at Steve's reaction, and he silently reminded himself that none of the kids knew about his hearing.
"Uhh, sorry Steve," Lucas said slowly. "Are um, are you okay?" The concern on his face melted Steve's heart just a little bit.
"I'm fine buddy," he reassured the young teen. "Was just in my own world a bit, you know, focusing and stuff." His explanation seemed to comfort Lucas enough, and he grinned.
"You ready to get started?" he asked, tossing the younger boy the ball. Lucas caught it with a practiced ease and began dribbling, feinting left and right. Steve dropped down into his defensive position, mirroring Lucas's every movement, tracking his feet to predict which direction he would go next.
He felt himself slipping back into that headspace that he loved so much, the one that drew him into sports in the first place. Because he didn’t need to think about it, the strategies were always in his brain. He just needed to rely on muscle memory, all his former skills coming back to him as he and Lucas scrimmaged.
They played for about thirty minutes before taking a quick break to grab water and snacks, both of them struggling to catch their breath. Lucas opened his Gatorade™ and said something Steve, causing him to look over in surprise as he struggled to figure out what the younger boy was saying.
"Pardon?" he said, pretending he just hadn't been paying attention. Lucas repeated himself, or at least Steve had to assume that he did, because again, he couldn't understand a single word that left the younger boy's mouth.
There was a heavy feeling in his stomach as he debated asking Lucas to repeat himself a third time.
Someone tapped his leg, pulling him out of his own spiraling headspace. Steve looked up, feeling even worse as he registered the fear on Lucas' face.
"Steve," Lucas began slowly, seeming struggling with what to say next. "Can you, uh, can you not hear me?"
Of course, that sentence Steve was able to comprehend.
With a heavy sigh, he shook his head.
"Not really," he replied, looking anywhere but at Lucas. "My hearing started to go after Billy smashed my head with a plate. And it got worse after Starcourt." He looked up then, a grim smile on his face. "Turns out multiple concussions aren't exactly good for a person."
Lucas' eyes widened at the confession. "So, are you deaf?" he asked. Or at least, Steve assumed that's what he said.
"Partially," Steve replied. "I can't hear at all out of my left ear, that's where I got the most damage. My right ear can function, but not normally. I mostly rely on reading lips and context clues."
"Oh my god," Lucas said slowly, the gears visibly turning in his head. "Oh my god! W-we kept teasing you! We kept calling you stupid a-and laughing at you! You couldn't even hear us! And you-" The boy suddenly slumped over and placed his head in his hands. He said something, Steve was sure of it, but it was additionally muffled by him covering his face.
"Uh, Lucas, buddy," Steve said hesitantly. "I can't understand you if I can't see your face." Lucas looked up at him then, tears pooling in his eyes.
"It's my fault," he said. Steve felt his mouth drop open in shock, and began to protest, but Lucas stopped him.
"Billy was coming after me," he insisted, talking clearer so Steve could understand. "He was attacking me! You stepped in and tried to defend me -- now you're deaf and it's all my fault!"
Steve felt his heart drop.
He'd been so scared to tell anyone because he was worried they wouldn't view him the same way as before, that he hadn't even considered how the kids might feel if they knew he was like this because of his attempts to protect them.
"Oh Lucas," Steve said softly, gathering the crying teen into his arms. "It's not your fault. There isn't a world where I wouldn't have done the same. You're my kid. I'm always gonna protect you. That's just how it works." He felt Lucas try to push away, to protest, but he just held him tighter. "You and your little gaggle of idiots are worth everything. I'd go deaf a thousand times if it meant keeping you all safe."
With a sniffle, Lucas detached himself from the older boy.
"Really?" he said, eyes shiny with tears.
"Of course," Steve responded, without missing a beat. He gave the younger boy a final squeeze, before wiping away the few tears that had escaped while he and Lucas were talking. "I'd better get you home anyway. Your mom will have my head on a stick if you miss dinner." He kept his hand on Lucas' back as he wiped his tears and sniffed a final time.
"Okay," he said. "But you're staying for dinner."
HOLY SHIT I FINALLY FINISHED! ONLY TOOK ME 9 MONTHS LOL
okay okay so i did talk about the older members of the party finding out next as well as dustin but i just had to make a liar out of myself bc when i started writing this my brain was just like "but what if we did a wholesome reveal with Lucas instead??" and now here we are and i regret nothing
except the lack of sleep. i regret that a lot.
also, i am not an athlete. i am a depressed and introverted high school theater kid who has never played basketball in my entire life bc i am a measly 5ft 1in (roughly 155cm). so dont come at me if the sportsball lingo is incorrect bc i have no fucking clue what im doing.
also THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING AND ALL THE LIKES AND REBLOGS ON MY LAST POST!!
#stranger things#stranger things 3#stranger things 4#steve harrington#lucas sinclair#dustin henderson#mike wheeler#the battle of starcourt#post starcourt#deaf steve harrington#hoh steve harrington#hard of hearing steve harrington#fluff#wholesome#heartwarming#i cried writing this#i hope you cry reading this#jk#not really tho
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Dustin is quiet on the ride to his house.
Unusual, but nothing unheard of, especially when he’s thinking hard about something. From what Steve had been able to pick up before he’d dropped off Mike and Lucas, there’s a lot going on in the Dumpsters and Dangers department.
Steve is half-tempted to ask him about it, even though he won’t understand a single word, just to see Dustin get excited about something. Not that he’d ever admit it to the kid’s face, but he’s missed him a bit. Ever since he started up Hellfire it’s been “Eddie this” and “Eddie that.” Give him a break.
But, it’s a bad listening day, and Steve’s really just trying to hear the commercial on the radio over the sharp ringing in his right ear. It’s one that plays a million times a day and he knows it by heart at this point, but that kind of makes it worse. Just means he knows when he’s missing a word or a sound effect.
But it’s fine. He’s handling it. The constant ringing used to make him feel like he was going insane, especially on bad days like this where it’s like a physical presence in his head that leaves him feeling lopsided, like the Upside Down itself is pulling on him. Coming and going in piercing waves that block out any other noise, no matter how loud or how close.
Robin thinks it’s a problem.
“I’m dealing with it,” he’d told her, both of them on her bed with her history textbook in his lap. She had a test on Monday and sure, Steve wasn’t the best student, but he’d helped Nancy study a million times.
“Sure,” Robin said. “Except that you aren’t. You’re avoiding it, and those are two very different things. Do I need to pull out my dictionary and beat you over the head with it?”
“Which one, you have like, seven in here.”
“Maybe we can try them all just to see what sticks.” Then, she’d folded herself over the edge of her bed to rummage around in her bag. “But also, I was just thinking, maybe we could give this a try?”
She handed him a folded up piece of paper, biting her lip. Steve took it, skeptical, and unfolded it to see a poster for the Bloomington community center that read American Sign Language Lessons.
At Steve’s extended silence of like, a second, she continued, “I thought we could do it together. For fun. Really up our trash talk game.”
Steve had just stared at it, dread settling low in his stomach like a sack of rocks. He dropped the poster on the bed. “Thanks, but neither of us are deaf. We don’t need it.”
She’d sighed. “Steve--”
“‘In which battle was Napoleon defeated?’”
“Waterloo, easy, but listen to me. ASL isn’t just for deaf people. Besides, you don’t have to wait until you can’t hear anything at all to start learning. I mean, you could, that’s the whole point of the language, but I don’t think you would handle it very well.”
“Rude.”
“I’m just saying.” She rolled her eyes. “Maybe we could even get some of the kids into it. I bet Dustin would--”
“No, Robin.” It came out a bit more harsh than he’d meant it, a little scared and he hated that. He crossed his arms just in case his hands decided to start shaking. “Just. Can we drop it?”
Robin, being Robin and he loved her for it but Jesus, leaned forward on her elbows. Steve raised his legs a little to hide the textbook. He wouldn’t put it past her to use this as some kind of con to cheat. Not that she needed to, she’s a genius.
“Steve,” she said, “you can’t just not tell them forever. Eventually, one of them is going to figure it out, and I don’t know about you, but I’d rather tell somebody something like that on my own terms.”
“I’m not not telling them,” he insisted. “It just hasn’t come up.”
“In five months? Or no, you said Billy is when it got really bad and that was a year ago. There hasn’t been a single moment in all that time where someone hasn’t noticed something different?”
Sure they had. A few different times. But, he’d always been kind of air headed and spacey, even before his concussions so it was easy enough for them to just brush it off as Steve being Steve. “I thought I was here to help you study.”
Robin looked at him like he was one of her crossword puzzles. “I’m just trying to understand why you told me and no one else. That’s all.”
“That’s...different.”
What did she want him to say? That to tell her had been one of the scariest moments of his life, had made him miss the demodog-infested tunnels, had made him feel like he needed a bat in his hands? That saying it, any of it, out loud had left him feeling like he needed to hurl? That the thought of telling anyone else who wasn’t her, as wild as that was for someone he’d met six and a half months ago, left him on the edge of a fucking panic attack?
Yeah, sure, he’d get right on that.
Robin stared at him a little longer before she leaned back, the fight gone. “Fine.” She reached over and grabbed the poster, folded it back up and put it back in her bag. “Just promise me you’ll give it some thought? Even just a little?”
“Scout’s honor.” He held up his hand.
“You were never a scout. And that’s the wrong hand.”
“I went to summer camp that one time!”
“That’s not the boy scouts, Steve!”
It’s been three days since then, and as much as he would like to forget about the whole thing, he’s been kind of agonizing over it. Over what Robin had said, about them figuring it out on their own. Would that be better? Worse?
Either option leaves a bad taste in his mouth. Makes him want to dig Billy up from his grave just to put him back in it. Him and those fucking Russians.
There’s a slap on his arm. “Steve!” Dustin’s glaring at him. “Jesus, finally. You just passed my house.”
Oh. Whoops. “My bad.” He pulls into a random driveway to turn around. “Don’t have to shout, man, car’s only so big.”
“I said your name like six times.”
Steve sighs and wishes for about the millionth time that his tinny-whatever-Owens-had-called-it had a dial so he could turn it down. Or off, really, that’d be great. “Sorry, I guess I’m a little distracted. Some--work thing that Keith’s on my ass about.”
He pulls up in front of Dustin’s house and debates getting out. On any other day he’d be happy to walk him to the door and talk to Mrs. Henderson, but that usually leads to her inviting (or ordering) him to stay for dinner, and while his stomach is more than on board for whatever she’s whipped up, his head has the louder argument.
“Alright, man,” he says and cuts off the radio. “I’ll see you later.”
Dustin doesn’t move. He’s got his backpack on his lap and a loose grip on the door handle, but that’s it. He almost looks...nervous?
He doesn’t think he’s ever seen Dustin nervous before.
“What’s up?” Steve asks. “Your mom pissed at you or something?”
Dustin scoffs. “Please, I’m an angel.”
“Only in her eyes. Come on, what’s bugging you? Something one of the guys said? A kid at school? Some sort of mathematical nerd thing that’s got you stumped?” He gasps. “It’s not Suzie, is it, I swear to god--”
Dustin looks almost scandalized at that. “No. What? No. Nothing like that. I’m just--” He’s suddenly back to nervous. He starts picking at the zipper on his backpack, takes his hand off the door. “I’m just not sure how to--”
After a few more seconds of stuttering silence, Steve rolls his eyes. “Dustin, just spit it out. Whatever it is, you can talk to me. I mean, I can’t promise how helpful talking to me will be, with all the stuff you guys get up to but hey, I can at least try, right?”
Dustin sighs and turns in his seat to face Steve more fully. He seems to steel himself before saying, “Okay. I just want to say, before we move forward, that I’m not mad.”
Oh. Not exactly what he was expecting. “...Okay? I’m not either.”
“And I still think you’re cool or whatever, and we’ll still be friends no matter what.”
Steve nods, completely lost. “Right.”
“Because society can say whatever the fuck it wants!” Dustin is yelling suddenly. “And they can go on and on about the bible and whatever the hell Reagan is talking about, but you’re my friend, dammit! You’re my friend!”
“Whoa, Dustin!” Steve raises his hands, both to calm him down and maybe to protect himself a little. “What the hell are you talking about?”
Dustin takes a deep breath. “I’m talking about how you’re--” He looks around, as if they weren’t alone in the car, then whispers, “About how you’re gay.”
Steve blinks, slowly. There was no way he heard that right. Right? “You think I’m what?”
“I know,” Dustin says. He puts a hand on Steve’s shoulder in what he assumes is supposed to be comforting. “I know that you’re gay and I just want to tell you that it’s okay. There’s nothing wrong with it.”
Steve leans back and stares at him. Dustin leans with him, keeping his hand on Steve’s shoulder. “I’m not gay.”
“You don’t have to hide from me anymore,” he says. “I love you, you’re my friend, one of my best friends, and nothing is gonna change that.”
“Well, that’s great and I appreciate it, but I’m still not gay.”
“Yes.” Dustin nods solemnly. “You are.”
Steve laughs. A short one, like a gunshot, and pinches the bridge of his nose. When Robin had told him about people drawing their own conclusions, she probably hadn’t imagined something like this. God, he can’t ever tell her about this. “Oh my god. Okay. What, uh, what gave me away?”
“Well, really, you shouldn’t feel too bad. I don’t think anyone else has noticed.”
“Hmm.”
“But you’ve just been kind of out of it lately. Distracted more, like right now, driving me home, or when we watch movies. Don’t think I didn’t see you staring at Harrison Ford. Raiders of the Lost Ark and Star Wars, dude.”
“Now hold on, that’s not--”
“And then, back at Thanksgiving, when my mom was telling you that story about me and Suzie and you just looked so uncomfortable--”
Because Steve hadn’t had a single clue what she was talking about.
“--plus, I’ve seen the way you look at Eddie so--”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, wait.” Steve scoffs. “How I look at Munson? The Freak.”
“Well, yeah, it’s like you’re being tortured or something.” He shrugs. “It’s kind of romantic, honestly.”
Jesus Christ. “Okay. Wow.” This is worse than every Upside Down encounter combined. “Dustin, I will repeat: I am not gay. There’s an explanation for all of those things, but it doesn’t involve my sexuality in any way. Got it?”
Dustin raises an eyebrow, totally not believing him. Finally, he leans back. Crosses his arms. “Alright then, I’m listening.”
Whenever he did let himself picture how telling one of the kids would go, this hadn’t been what he’d imagined. But really, this has already gone so terribly, so how could it possibly get worse?
(Dustin could look at him like he’s broken, like he doesn’t recognize him, could tell him that he doesn’t trust Steve to watch his back, could start treating him differently or avoiding him, he’s already hanging out with Munson more, why not just abandon him altogether--)
“Alright.” He runs a hand through his hair before settling it on the bottom of the wheel, gripping it so tight his knuckles go sheet white. “So. Yeah, I’ve been distracted and not...listening as well.”
“Because you’ve been thinking about--”
“Nope!” Steve closes his eyes. Deep breaths and quick prayer to not kill a child. “It’s because I literally can’t listen as well as I used to. I--I have hearing loss.”
His second time saying it out loud to another person and it’s met with a similar kind of gut-turning silence. Steve watches Dustin’s face go through several rapid changes before settling on something confused, his mouth slightly open and his eyebrows low.
“Oh.”
Then he looks mad.
“You have what? Dude!” He starts slapping Steve across his arm. “Since when?”
“Since--Jesus, man, stop! Since the mall fire, okay?”
Dustin freezes and Steve does too, the guilt like ice in his chest. He looks at Dustin and knows he’s thinking about the elevator and the bunker and the sizzling of human flesh under a fucked up cattle prod. It had been a tough summer for all of them, but Steve won’t ever be able to forget how Dustin had sat next to him in his car, just like this, trembling when he told Steve about how he was having nightmares. About how he thinks he might have killed that guy, and what did that make him?
A hero, Steve had told him. You saved our lives.
“If I hadn’t--” Dustin starts.
“Cutting you off there, Henderson. This,” Steve waves a hand around his face, “is not your problem. Okay? It has nothing to do with you.”
Dustin looks so small then, so lost, and Steve feels his heart twist. He reaches over and ruffles his hair. “It’ll be okay. I can still hear out of my right ear, so I’ve got that going for me.”
Dustin frowns. “Does anyone else know?”
“Only you and Robin. I just...haven’t found the right time.”
“The right time being when? It’s been months. If we’d known, we could have helped you.”
Just like with Robin, he doesn’t have a good answer. Doesn’t really have any answer, and doesn’t know when he will. “I’ll get around to it. Sometime. But,” he locks eyes with Dustin, “you have to promise me you won’t tell anyone until I’m ready.”
“Steve--”
“Promise me, Dustin.” He stares him down. “I’m dead serious.”
Dustin sighs, but nods. “Alright.”
“On your mom’s life?”
Dustin recoils. “Dude, you’re bringing my mom into this?” Then, “Alright, fine, I swear on my mother’s life. Cross my heart and hope to die and all that shit, I won’t tell a soul.”
“Thanks.” Steve claps him on the shoulder. “Now get out.”
“Does Robin know you’re gay?”
“What?” Robin can never know about this conversation. “Dude, no, I’m not gay!”
“So you are dating Robin.”
“I’m not dating anyone! Definitely not Robin, and I don’t have any kind of crush on Munson or anyone else!”
“But I swear, the way you look at him--”
“I hate his guts, now get out or I’ll hold your hat hostage.”
With a proper amount of grumbling, Dustin manhandles his backpack and steps out. He goes to shut the door, but pauses. “You know, you saved my life too. I’ve got your back no matter what. Okay?”
His eyes sting, so he itches his nose. Clears his throat to make sure it won’t crack when he says, “Yeah, Dustin, I know. You too.”
The next second he’s gone and Steve, alone in his car, is left to think that maybe...ASL lessons might not be so bad.
#stranger things#steve harringing#robin buckley#dustin henderson#hard of hearing steve harrington#hoh steve harrington#platonic stobin#steve later: I should talk to him about trying to get people to out themselves#also he FOR SURE tells robin about it#and regrets it immediately#cut to him and eddie dating and dustin just gives them the smuggest look#my writing
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