#pre-season 4
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Steve ends up heartbroken, lonely and depressed after season 2. Nancy called him bullshit, even after he ditched all his old friends for her. Billy Hargrove took his spot at the top of the food chain. He can have it, Steve doesn't really want it anymore. But Steve does want to find some sort of connection. Someone to have in his life who isn't an 11 year old kid he barely knows. He tries to go on a date one night, take a nice-seeming girl to a party. He wants to find connection, to kill the loneliness that's been building for months, but just as he's feeling kind of good about things, his date ditches him.
So. He decides to drink his feelings. He gets majorly fucked up, and ends up laying on the ground in the backyard, contemplating how much life seems to hate him.
Only to literally get tripped over by Eddie Munson, who was at this party selling pot and is very confused as to why Steve Harrington is alone on the ground with a bottle of vodka clenched in one hand.
Eddie ends up chatting a little with Steve, nothing substantial, but enough to know that Steve is very very drunk, and also very very sad.
He asks if Steve wants to go back to the party, and Steve staunchly refuses. He doesn't want to be around a bunch of annoyingly happy people.
He asks if Steve needs a ride home, and Steve just kind of shrugs. His parents just left for another trip, so home is kind of depressing right now too. But he doesn't exactly have any other friends he can stay with so. Home it'll have to be.
Only Eddie can *tell* he doesn't really want to go home, though he has no idea why Steve wouldn't want to return to his veritable mansion after a shitty night. The reason doesn't matter much. He offers to let Steve crash at his place. Steve can take the couch, or hell he can stay in Eddie's room if he doesn't mind sharing, that way he wouldn't risk being woken up when Wayne comes home that morning.
And well, Steve agrees. Can't think of any reason not too. Munson has been nice so far, he's got a good easy-going energy that Steve likes. Why not stay the night.
By the time they get to Eddie's, Steve is *slightly* more sober. Not much, but he's slurring his words a little less, and he can walk with only a little help.
Eddie grabs them each a little plate of leftovers, because he has no idea if Steve's eaten at all. It's quiet while they eat, Eddie doesn't push Steve to talk, and Steve isn't sure what to say. Eventually Eddie sets the plates aside and give Steve an easy grin.
"So, do you want the couch, or are you crashing with me?"
Steve thinks about it for a while. He hasn't shared a bed with a guy-friend since he was a kid, and he's heard rumors about Eddie, whispers in the hall about the way he looks at other guys. But...Steve can't really bring himself to care. He's tired, and he really doesn't want to be alone.
"I don't mind sharing."
Eddie sets them both up in his room, letting Steve choose which side of the bed he wants, and they both settle in. There's a respectable distance between the two of them, and Eddie says a quick goodnight to Steve, figures they won't talk and just go right to bed.
Except Steve isn't sober, and he really isn't in a good headspace, so he can't stop himself from blurting things out into the quiet of the dark room.
"Are you really gay?"
Eddie stiffens next to him, he can feel it, he can hear the way that the other boys breath cuts off and he seems to stop breathing all-together.
"It's okay if you are, I'm not going to be an asshole about it, I'm trying not to be that guy anymore. I guess I was just curious."
It's quiet for another beat before Eddie seems to loosen just a little. He starts breathing again at least.
"Yeah I uh- I am. Gay. And if that's weird the couch is still open, I can-"
"It's not weird."
"Okay."
Steve let's himself mull over this confirmation, and then his mouth starts moving again, without his permission.
"Is it lonely? Cause I mean, it's got to be hard to date in Hawkins. People here are shitty. Unless you've got like, a secret boyfriend or something."
"No...no secret boyfriend. It does get a little lonely sometimes. I'm lucky though, I've got my uncle, and my friends are pretty great. That's enough most days."
"What do you do when it's not enough?"
"Hmmm?"
"When your uncle and friends aren't enough, what do you do? To try and...make it better?"
Eddie is quiet again for a long stretch before he shrugs.
"I try to focus on something else. I'll play my guitar or work on a new campaign, read a book. Something to take my mind off it."
"Oh."
Now Steve is the one who seems tense, his jaw is tight and he's got his arms wrapped around himself. His next words come out as a whisper, but Eddie manages to catch them.
"I don't know how to do any of that."
He sounds almost choked, and Eddie is caught off guard. He's never seen Steve Harrington as anything other than solid, as happy. He's the king, after all. He's supposed to be all smiles and great hair. Only...Eddie's noticed that he hasn't hung out with his old friends lately, that he's eaten alone at lunch too many times to be anything other than strange.
"Steve...are you lonely?"
Eddie expects a denial, for Steve to laugh it off and tell Eddie that he's perfectly fine and fulfilled. Or maybe he expects a shrug, a non-answer. What he doesn't expect is the gut-wrenching sob that seems to tear past the other boys lips.
He doesn't expect to turn and see Steve Harrington's face, a scant foot from his, shining with tears.
He panics a little at the sight.
"Fuck- I'm so sorry-"
"Don't be." Steve tries to wipe his eyes, to hide the tremble in his voice. "Not your fault there's something wrong with me."
"What do you mean?"
"It's like I'm broken man, like nobody can stand to be around me. Tommy and Carol hate me now, Nancy- hell even my own parents hate being at home with me for more than a week. It's like I'm repellent or something. Couldn't even get a date to stick around for a whole night."
And Eddie's pretty sure *he* might start crying now. He'd never have expected this much from Steve, all that sadness to come pouring out. It wouldn't have happened if Steve was completely sober. Without thinking, he reaches out.
Eddie puts a hand on Steve's shoulder and waits to see if the touch gets rejected, but Steve seems to lean into him, so he lets his hand linger.
"This probably won't help, but I don't think you're repellent. And that's coming from somebody who your whole group used to torture. I don't know much about you, but I kind of liked having you around tonight."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
Steve gives him a tiny smile. His eyes are still wet with tears, and the smile doesn't come close to reaching them. He seems impossibly small here in Eddie's bed.
"I don't know man. I just wish-"
He cuts himself off, apparently deciding his words are too far, but Eddie urges him to keep talking.
"What do you wish Steve?"
"I just wish that... there was somebody out there I could have a future with. Somebody who actually loved me, you know?"
It might be the saddest thing Eddie's ever heard, and he blames that fact for what he does next.
He takes his hand off Steve's shoulders and instead hauls Steve closer to him, fitting the other boy against his chest and wrapping his arms around him. It's a move that might get him decked, but he doesn't think it will. And he'll be damned if he doesn't hug Steve right that second.
He doesn't get hit. Steve tenses for a second, but it's just that one instant before he's melting into the embrace.
Eddie feels more tears falling against his shirt, and he couldn't care less. He keeps Steve close, let's him cry into his chest, runs a hand through that famous mop of hair.
He isn't sure how long it takes for Steve to calm down, but eventually he does. His breathing evens out, and he shivers a little before speaking.
"Thanks man."
And Eddie takes another leap of faith.
"I could be that person, you know."
"What?"
"I mean. You know Im... not straight. It may not be exactly what you're wanting but. I think I could picture a future with you. If you want to, just for tonight...I could be that someone who loves you."
Steve looks at Eddie, like he's a puzzle that he needs to solve, before a other shiver seems to wrack his body.
"Just for tonight?"
It comes out as a whisper, but Eddie hears it all the same.
"Yeah. For tonight Steve."
"I think...I think I'd like that."
Eddie gives him the sweetest smile he can muster, and nods.
"Alright sweetheart."
Eddie isn't exactly sure what it means, to love Steve for the night. After all, Steve is straight. He figures it doesn't matter much though, it's only for a night.
He keeps a hold on Steve, let's him get comfortable tucked against Eddie, and he does what feels natural. He runs a hand up and down Steve's spine, traces shapes into the soft fabric of his shirt. He tangles their legs together, and in a moment of insane bravery he presses a kiss to the top of Steve's head.
He's met with a sigh, full of relief, and figures he's on the right track.
"Just close your eyes Stevie, I've got you."
"Can you tell me about it?"
"Hmmm?"
"The future. You said you could see one. Can you tell me?"
And he asks so carefully, he sounds almost afraid, Eddie can't say no to that.
"Do you want the fantasy future, or the realistic future?"
"The real one."
"Alright then. Well, if I'm not going to be a rich and famous rockstar...I'll probably graduate and get a job somewhere in town. A real job, maybe working on cars or something. I'm good with cars. You'd come over all the time, have dinners with me and with Wayne. You'd have to meet Wayne. And we'd have more nights like this, sleeping close."
Steve let's out a pleased sounding hum, and shifts his face so it's buried even closer in Eddie's neck. He can feel Steve's breath on him.
"We could save up money and get a little place together, somewhere outside Hawkins. I have to stay kind of close, for my uncle, but maybe Indy?"
Steve nods, mutters something about staying close 'just in case'. He sounds like he might fall asleep, so Eddie keeps going.
"We could get an apartment, nothing too fancy. We would get two rooms, so nobody gets suspicious, but we would share a bed most nights. I'd play with my band on weekends, just for fun, and you'd join some little local sports team. I'd make sure to schedule DND nights so that I never miss a single game, even though I don't understand a damn thing about sports. We would come home for holidays, but most of the time it would just be us. I'd take good care of you, make sure you never go more than a few hours without me telling you I love you. I'll show up wherever you're working just to give you a hug and a kiss, and make sure you don't forget it. And I'll annoy the hell out of, but you won't mind too much, because I'll make you happy too."
Eddie can think of more. He can think about so many things. How he could give Steve one of his rings, even if they couldn't legally get married, even if Steve would never want that. Just as another reminder that he's loved. They could take trips together and go out to parties where Steve will never have to worry about getting ditched. Eddie doesn't do things halfway, and he has a hell of an imagination. He could picture them growing old together, if he tried, if he let himself. But this is just for tonight, so he doesn't. Instead he runs a hand through Steve's hair again, and listens to his quiet breathing. He thinks he may have fallen asleep, but he's wrong.
"That sounds nice."
It comes out muffled, spoken into Eddie's neck, but he manages to make it out, and he let's the vibration of it sink into his skin.
*It's only for tonight.*
He has to remind himself, because Steve is just feeling lonely. He doesn't want that future with Eddie, he just wants to feel loved.
But even if it's just pretend, just to help Steve for a few hours, he's okay with that.
Steve may think he's broken, but Eddie thinks he would be easy to love for a long time. Loving him for one night is nothing. He doesn't even have to try.
Tomorrow Steve will wake up sober, and he'll thank Eddie for letting him stay over, and they won't talk about it. Eddie will drive Steve back to his car in silence, and they'll say their goodbyes. They may not talk ever again, they never had before.
But for tonight? Eddie Munson will love Steve Harrington, and Steve? He'll let himself be loved, let himself beleive it. And he'll love Eddie right back.
Just for one night.
And if Steve ever needs it again? Eddie will love him for another night. And Steve will give that love right back. He's got plenty to spare, after all. And there's far worse people he could share it with.
#steddie#stranger things#steve harrington#eddie munson#steve harrington whump#steve is sad#eddie helps#pre-season 4#this takes place between seasons 2 and 3#I wrote this in a fit of insanity while I was supposed to be working#hope yall like it
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For the Monday challenge: Duck, Dodge, Don't Fall In Love, by steddieasitgoes
https://archiveofourown.org/works/54700576/chapters/138628711
Duck, Dodge, Don't Fall In Love by steddieasitgoes
@steddieasitgoes
Rating: Mature
15,188 words, 4/4 chapters
Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply
Tags: Pre-Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Post-Stranger Things 2, POV Alternating, Getting Together, First Kiss, Shotgunning, Protective Steve Harrington, Hurt Eddie Munson, Wound Tending, Idiots in Love, Eddie Munson Has a Crush on Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington Has a Bisexual Awakening, Humor, Gym class, Sexual Tension
Summary:
Steve scoops up another stray ball and adjusts his stance to hurl the thing across the court when a loud thunk rips through the cacophony of noise. It’s quiet enough to hear a pin drop for all of three seconds before everyone breaks into laughter — tears practically streaming down their faces as they point at an injured Eddie Munson starfished on the gym floor with a dodgeball imprint on the side of his face.
The Steve from last year probably would have been like them but Steve’s not that guy anymore, at least he’s actively trying not to be. Breaking out into a light jog, Steve bobs and weaves his way through the crowd that’s gathered and makes it over to Eddie.
“Hey man,” Steve says, lowering himself to the floor. He situates himself in the same position as Eddie, knees practically to his chest as his legs bracket Eddie between him. “That was a nasty hit. Are you okay?"
“Fine, I am.” Eddie immediately cringes. “I mean, I fine am. No wait… I—“
Or:
Steve Harrington gets kicked off the basketball team and ends up in gym class with Eddie Munson, becoming his knight in tiny green shorts
Thanks for the rec!
This rec is a part of Challenge Monday. The challenge this week was FICS WITH 4 CHAPTERS.
Know a fic that deserves extra love? Submit through our asks or the submission box!
#Challenge Monday#steddie fic recs#steve harrington#steddie#eddie munson#steve x eddie#stranger things#pre-season 4#getting together
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Long Odds (Steddie)
“Steve. My buddy. My pal.”
“No.”
Dustin purses his lips, tugging harder on the plastic wire of the phone. The school courtyard behind him is buzzing with life, warm and welcoming - finally - after a particularly harsh winter, for Indiana standards at least. A group of freshmen he faintly recognizes from one of his classes walks by, shrieking and laughing at a severely unfunny joke. He’s been subjected to Robin’s atrocious puns often enough to say so with confidence. He winces.
“You don’t even know what I was going to say,” he informs Steve because, well, rude.
“I’m guessing one of you annoying shrimps need a favor,” the phone responds in a bored monotone “and I don’t know if you know, but I actually have a life outside of babysitting you all.”
“Steve, watching The Breakfast Club for the fourth time this month is not having a life.” An offended ‘dude’ from the other side of the line feels like a warning sign. He realizes he only has one chance to do it right. If Steve hangs up now, he’s done for.
“Have I ever told you you’re my best friend?” Dustin tries instead.
“Jesus Christ-”
Dustin taps his finger on the booth. Shit. He’s hanging on by a thread, he can feel it.
“Look, this is an emergency, okay? I need you to play D&D with us tonight! Lucas can’t come and we need someone to fill in his spot, that’s, like, life or death, Steve.” After a breath, he adds. “Pretty please.”
A pause.
“Henderson, that’s the least life or death thing I’ve heard in a while.”
Dustin rolls his eyes, sucking in a heavy sigh. It’s progress, though, he can feel the scale tipping in his favor ever so slightly. He knows Steve.
“You haven’t seen Eddie when we asked to reschedule,” he pleads, full-well knowing the super senior in question hasn’t yet been informed of their predicament. It’s better this way, Dustin tells himself. Eddie will be miffed they haven’t told him, sure, but if they find a replacement, it shouldn’t be that big of a deal, right? “He looked like that one time when we were sleeping in the woods and all our stuff was stolen and then-”
“Wait, hold on, somebody robbed you?” Steve asks, muffled by how he, no-doubt, mashed the phone closer to his face to hear better. At least Dustin is sure he’s paying attention now. “And why the hell were you in the woods at night with this Eddie in the first place? Isn’t being chased by, uh, by dogs enough for you?”
“During a campaign, Steve,” Dustin quickly interjects. “It was part of the storyline. We weren’t actually in the woods.”
“Jesus Christ, kid,” the voice on the other side echoes, this time from some distance away and there’s shuffling that indicates Steve running his hand through his mop of hair,probably in order to calm himself. Dustin, for the record, does feel guilty. A little bit. “You and the rest of the little gremlins will be the death of me, I swear. Not cool, man.”
“Sorry,” Dustin tells him sincerely. Pauses. And then, “so?”
“So?”
“Steve.”
What follows is a long-suffering sigh. Dustin’s lip twitches.
“I don’t even know how to play your stupid game.”
It should be known that Dustin absolutely did not pump his fist in the air in a silent sign of victory. He did not. But the smile that broke out on his face? Yeah, he won’t deny that.
“I’ll tell you everything you need to know, I promise.”
-&-
There’s a familiar buzz in the air, absorbing all the pre-game excitement and nerves. Gareth and Jeff heatedly discuss their respective strategies from last week, while Grant feverishly writes something down in his notebook, be it a new song lyric or an addition to his character’s backstory. Just as Eddie finishes rearranging the chairs around the table, the doors open, and his favorite freshmen flood into the classroom.
Except-
“Heard you’re one person short for your Dancers and Dweebs game, Munson,” Steve Harrington (Steve Harrington, his brain supplies helpfully) smirks up at him, jacket sliding off one of his shoulders. On anyone else it would look awkward, for sure, but on Steve, it looks, well, it looks-
“Uh,” is what Eddie responds with initially, a streak of panic flashing through his gut and straightening his back. Where the hell is Sinclair? Why is He here, instead? There’s so much to address - as he stands there, blinking owlishly, fingers wrapped tightly around the back of a cheap plastic chair - with a witty remark of sorts most fitting, surely. He adds, then, seemingly for no other purpose but to dig his grave just a little deeper. “Um.”
“You know it’s Dungeons and Dragons,” Mike’s annoyed reply snaps Eddie back to reality just a little bit. He feels very much out of his depth, here, in his club, with his campaign notes strewn around, with his closest friends, and-and Steve Harrington? Granted, Dustin has been babbling his ear off about Steve, how awesome he is and the like; not that Eddie believed it for a second since it seemed like a highly idealized big-brother situation at best. But here he is, the King himself. Doing – what exactly?
No, he can make it work. He can, really. He’s made it out of situations much more awkward than this.
Steve wouldn’t beat him up in front of a kid, right?
Right?
Though, considering the amount of times he’s seen Steve Harrington walking around school with his face punched in, Eddie’s not so sure the guy knows how to actually win a fight.
Eddie definitely doesn’t, and so he’s not going to push it. Too much.
He’s curious, is the thing. It’s tempting, very tempting, to poke the bear - just a little bit. It’s not every day that the former King of Hawkins High enters your humble abode, not with snot-nosed freshmen trailing after him like he’s their personal hero (and yes, that does include Mini Wheeler, even though he’d surely throw a fit if Eddie as much as implied it). Steve Harrington should feel more out of place, surrounded by everything his former so-called ‘King’ persona would mock outright not even two or three years ago but, somehow, he does not and the thought weighs down on Eddie’s gut. He’s not sure if it’s dread or adrenaline yet.
So, in the end, Eddie does what he does best - he acts.
“We are, indeed, in dire need of a player,” he laments, clutching at his heart and leaning his head back. Tilting his head to the side, gazing at Harrington almost upside down, he smirks. “Why, has the king himself decided to join us this fine evening?”
Harrington rolls his eyes in response, brow twitching, but Eddie doesn’t mind. This is normal, expected. Usually accompanied with an insult of sorts but he can really do without one, and so he’s silently grateful. Small victories and all that motivational shit.
So. Here’s the thing.
Steve Harrington actually knows the basics (“I did all the work!” “Yes, Dustin, we know.”). First thing the poor jock (ex-jock?) does is fling a half-filled out character sheet in Eddie’s face with a proud glint in his eye which he does not find endearing at all – he does not, stop laughing, Gareth, for fuck’s sake-. Things get worse from there. Steve’s adorably confused through most of the three-hour playthrough, terribly, tragically unimaginative with the way he makes his choices, but he pays attention, or at least tries to, which is a lot more than Eddie has expected of him.
And, fuck, it’s attractive. It’s embarrassing as it is, to fall for a jock, Steve Harrington of all people at that. But then the guy turns out not to be a complete and utter douche? It’s confusing but exhilarating, in a way, makes Eddie want to push and poke and want. Eddie’s not a brave person, he’ll be first to admit that, but he sees Harrington’s confused pout or tentative smile and is tempted to do something utterly stupid and reckless, like kiss him, for example. And isn’t that a thought. A dangerous and foolish one, but a thought that clings to him the whole evening nonetheless.
Eddie can’t help the sigh of relief the moment Steve Harrington leaves the Hellfire Club with a wave and red-splotchy cheeks, throwing out a loose ‘see you around, Munson’ at the door. See you never, hopefully, he muses, if not a bit unkindly. Because Steve Harrington makes him feel confused and scared and hopeful and he wants more after only a few hours – and he knows, God, he knows, that could never happen. He and Harrington belong to two different worlds, two clashing ecosystems and it was nice, for an evening, but they’d always be just out of reach of each other.
Tomorrow, he’ll drive by Family Video and think nothing of it. In a week Steve would be waiting outside the school to pick up the little rascals and they will not talk.
A month from now, Chrissy Cunningham will die in Eddie Munson’s trailer.
Come find me at InsertACreativeNameHere__SlavicViking on ao3
#steddie#steve harrington#eddie munson#steddie fanfic#steve harrington x eddie munson#stranger things#st#pre-season 4#my writing
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Head canon that Kai was homeless at some point post-season 3 pre-season 4 and has a back pack full of clothes, extra cash he squirreled away, a fake identity, and other necessities in case he became homeless again.
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Pre-season 4 Steddie, my beloved.
It wasn’t just a slow day at Family Video, it was a very slow day. He’s pretty sure watching paint dry would be a more intense activity than working this shift. Weirdly enough, a hot and sunny Sunday morning was apparently not a popular time for movie rentals. Who would've thought?
They'd been working here for a little over a month now and if it wasn't for the fact that they could work together about 98% of the time, Steve probably wouldn't have made it this far. He knows less than half of the popular movies and almost none of the "cult classics", aka the films Robin liked to pick for the in-store tv. But then again, it’s not like he’d been an ice cream aficionado before Scoops Ahoy.
There was one thing however, he was good at without even trying: Flirting. Sadly, most of the girls that come in are either here with their partner or simply not his type. In most cases, he still finds a way to flirt with most of them anyway, just because.
But well, with Robin working in the back and with no female customers - or any customers, really - around, Steve could neither flirt for fun nor gossip with his bestie. And so, Steve's reorganizing the horror section. It’s not really necessary, but it gives him something to do. At least until the bell above the door rings, alerting him to at least one new customer.
He has to fight the urge to turn around, so eager to finally have some more life in the store. But no, he shouldn't scare the customers. Just give them a moment and then offer your help, he tells himself. He tries to relax for a bit, as he’s slowly rearranging the "top picks" shelf.
'Chainsaws, knives for fingers, why does anyone watch this stuff for fun?' he thinks to himself, before there’s the familiar sensation of eyes on the back of his head. Happy to hopefully finally be of use, he turns around to answer any possible questions, only to find himself face to face with Eddie Munson.
High School Steve, King Steve, Steve The Hair Harrington - in short, the Steve he definitely didn’t like all that much - would've called him 'the freak'. It was just something others called him, so he'd joined in, though he’d never said those actual words to Eddie himself, only said it whenever the jocks talked about him. Even then, he was never really sure why they called him that. He was different, maybe a little weird, but freak? That was a bit harsh.
He's so busy wondering if Eddie remembers him from high school. More importantly, if Eddie is going to say something about it, if he does remember, that he doesn’t realize he’s still staring at the other. Shit! Be a professional, man.
With a slight cough, he looks away for a moment, before slapping that famous customer service smile back on.
"Hi!" Oof, that was far too loud and cheerful. Toning it down a bit, he continues. "Looking for some horror? I'll just-", he points to another box of videos, standing at the children's section. "I'll get out of your hair, give you a chance to look around." Omg Steve, why are you still talking? "If you need anything, just holler." 'Seriously? What is wrong with you’ , the voice in his head, a voice that sounds a lot like Robin, is practically shouting at him.
Eddie simply nods at him, though there’s a curious look in his eye. It’s like he’s trying to figure something out. Maybe this is the part where he finally remembers Steve. Steeling himself for that moment, he finds himself holding his breath as Eddie takes a step closer to the shelf. He stops and stares for just a moment, before turning back to Steve. "Any recommendations?"
Steve’s shocked by the sincerity in his voice. He’s not mocking him or anything, just honestly wondering if Steve has any recommendations for him. It catches Steve completely off guard.
For an agonizingly long moment, he just stands there frozen, already slightly turned away from the metalhead. He’s glad the other can’t see his face, as he’s pretty sure he’s doing a goldfish impression right now. Breathe, Steve. Breathe and think.
His brain decides to start working again and a moment later, he’s facing Eddie again. "Depends what you're into." Okay, maybe his brain hadn't really started working again, because he somehow managed to make that one sentence sound both dirty and awkward. "I mean, if it's blood you're after, you can't go wrong with a little Texas Chainsaw action. If however, you like a bit more plot, I hear 'The Thing' is pretty good. And of course, there's always Nightmare on Elm Street or Halloween. Classics!", he finishes with a smile, hoping his answer sounded confident.
Judging from Eddie's thoughtful nod, he’s pulled it off. Next thing he knows, Eddie’s turning back to the shelf, picking up a random VHS to read the information on the back. Good, Steve thinks, as he tries to make his escape for a second time. He feels like going over into the children’s section would save him more awkwardness, right?
He doesn’t fully understand what’s happening here, though. Why was this boy making him so nervous?
He turns, but gets no further than a step or two before he hears Eddie’s voice again. "Which one's your favorite?"
Should he just lie? He could, right? It’s not like he hasn’t lied to half the customers in here already, especially the mom’s wondering if a movie would be appropriate for their children. As long as he hasn’t heard Dustin or Robin speak of it, he’s pretty sure the movie is tame enough for families.
Yeah, he should just lie. That way, the boy can either pick that one or pick a different one and be done. He should just lie, so that Eddie Munson can leave and Steve can stop feeling this fidgety and nervous.
He should just lie, but he can’t. The moment those big brown eyes lock onto his own, he’s mesmerized. "Honestly? I haven't seen any of them." He at least has the decency to look ashamed at his confession. Is this the point Eddie’s finally going to laugh at him?
The answer is no. Eddie simply raises his eyebrows at Steve’s answer, an amused look taking over his face as he tilts his head even so slightly in a 'go on, tell me more' kinda way. So Steve does.
Read the rest here:
#steddie#steve harrington#eddie munson#steve x eddie#stranger things fanfiction#pre-season 4#secret relationship my beloved
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weave together again
aka rayla’s new hairdo in three parts: pre-timeskip, mid-timeskip, post-timeskip
part one
It’s a hot summer day when he first puts her hair up for her.
Rayla sits up from the cool grass—the only shade available to collapse in after that last round with Soren and the other Crownguard—and finds Callum reaching for her.
“Ugh, no,” she protests at first. It’s so hot, and there’s hardly any tree cover in the courtyard here at the castle, and she’s so much sweatier than she would’ve ever been from such light training in the Silvergrove…so she waves away his hand before it could get anywhere near the layer of sweat covering her skin. “I’m gross.”
The look in his eyes is familiar: a little amused and so kind and extra sweet, as if he could compliment the truth away. “I can promise you that you’re not.”
She can’t help but be a little sorry to deny him when that’d been the exact same sweet Callum-face that’d made her kiss him in the first place…
“So hot,” she says, shaking her head, reminding herself and explaining to him.
His eyebrows lift and the soft smile on his lips tilts sideways…and she lets him at least cover her hand on the ground with his.
“That’s true,” he says, eyes catching in the dappled bits of sunlight through the leaves overhead, so clearly proud of having found something both flirty and sweet to say to her.
She scoffs—as that’d hide her breath hitching and heart fluttering—and looks away too, under the guise of an eye roll, her cheeks too pink from the sun to get any warmer. “I feel gross—sweaty and hot and so, so gross.”
Callum brightens even more and scrambles to his knees, facing her with a toothy grin, his fingertip already glowing bright with magic. “I can fix that.”
The rune’s already drawn—and he looks even prouder—before she gives a grateful go-ahead. “Go for it, mage,” she smiles, lifting her chin expectantly.
The Draconic is a whisper and the breeze is gentle too—just enough to aspiro the sweat from her skin and to blow damp strands of white away from her face. The windbreath spell doesn’t last forever, of course, but she stays still, her eyes shut, hoping he’ll go again.
Instead, though, his knees shuffle against the grass, and he’s already sitting behind her by the time she blinks her eyes open. “What are you doing?” she asks, looking over her shoulder to see him settled on his knees at her back.
“Putting your hair up for you,” he shrugs, tucking a halfway-blown-back lock behind her ear in explanation, “if that’s okay.”
She faces forward and nods, trying to hide any blush that shows through the sunburn, and he does the same on the other side, his fingertips cool against the warm tip of her ear.
“You’ll be more comfortable, don’t you think?” Callum says, picking up her hair from her shoulders to hold loosely in his hand.
“I…suppose so.” She swallows thickly at the sudden swell of intimacy: Callum gathering the pieces at the back of her neck with her say-so, all that attention fixed on her comfort…
“Doesn’t all this get in the way?” he asks, and Rayla doesn’t respond, wit faltering at all the feelings.
His fingertips gently raking against her scalp, his touch firm and tender and careful all through her hair, his words so genuine and so full of affection and concern…
“Doesn’t seem very practical for back-flipping, tree-climbing, or sword-stabbing if you ask me,” he continues, chuckling to himself
“Never been a problem before,” she says—too quickly—hoping he can’t tell when she holds her breath as he smoothes the last few sections around her horns, pulling it all taut at the crown of her head.
Rayla exhales as he finishes—too quickly—wishing for an excuse for more.
“There, now I just need—”
“Actually, wait—” she stops him, reaching up to pull a small section out of the bun he’s made. “Can…can you braid this first? I can show you, if—”
“I can do that.” Callum takes the piece of hair from her, arranging it to fall below her horn before he abandons the rest of her hair and starts separating the section into pieces to weave together again, his hands steady and surprising her with their skill.
“I love you,” she blurts out…and panics. Maybe that was a little much for something as little as this, and maybe Callum taking care of her like this didn’t call for that big a feeling but—
“I mean—”
His lips land on her temple, gentle and warm, and he whispers again.
“I love you, too, Rayla. I really do.”
#rayllum#rayllum fanfic#seaon 4#the dragon prince#pre-season 4#tdp#rayla#callum#aka rayla's new hairdo the fic
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Fic: Better Raise Your Ears (3/4)
Stranger Things fic. Mike & Max. Mike-POV. Gen.
Summary: Mike and Max aren’t friends. But they’re not not friends.
Or: Max doesn’t open up, Mike doesn’t push, and things don’t get better. But they do manage to find some sort of calm amidst the chaos, even if it’s not enough to do more than postpone the inevitable.
Relationships: Mike & Max, Max & Billy, Max/Lucas
Notes: pre-S4, grief, past character death, friendship, music references, mentioned Mike/El, implied one-sided Mike/Eddie (Mike’s got a crush)
Also on Ao3
Previous Part (2/4)
Part 3
Returning to school after winter break was miserable. The weather was atrocious – heavy winds and snow that quickly turned to slurry – and the teachers had no sympathy for their students’ complete disinterest in learning anything when they’d rather be in bed wrapped up in blankets until spring arrived.
Or maybe that was just Mike. Lucas didn’t seem to have a problem getting up early for morning training with the basketball team. Dustin, too, was waiting impatiently for Mike’s arrival, his thermos of coffee already empty by the time Mike showed up.
Mike groaned. “You couldn’t save me even a little?”
Dustin stared at him, unimpressed by the whinging. “You hate coffee.”
“Isn’t that the point? The misery of its bitterness counteracts the misery of the early morning torture that is period 1 Spanish.”
Dustin rolled his eyes and pushed off the low wall he was leaning against to head inside – like the rest of the sane population of Hawkins High. They eventually peeled away from each other to head to different rooms, separating with a quick fist bump. Mike walked into his Spanish classroom and froze.
Max was already sitting in her seat at the back of the room. Headphones on, ignoring the rest of the world.
She wasn’t the only one who’d arrived early. A group of girls giggled together at the front of the room and two boys were engaged in a serious competition of paper football over the gap between their desks.
Mike considered talking to Max right now. He hesitated. There were other people around. And they only had a few minutes before the bell.
Better to leave it to another time.
Instead of walking across the room to bother Max, Mike strolled over to his usual seat in the middle row and unpacked his bag to prepare for the lesson. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Max’s head pop up and track his movement. Maybe she was expecting yet another dismal attempt at conversation from him. Mike didn’t let himself look over, in case he was tempted to do something stupid like talk to her again before she was ready.
Eventually, the bell rang and the rest of the class and their teacher filled the room and Mike forced himself to focus on the lesson.
After class, Mike looked around but Max was one of the first out the door. He wouldn’t see her again until lunch. Even then, he’d have to go searching for her. She was never in the cafeteria any more, even with the weather still cold enough to shatter bones.
Math, he decided. He wouldn’t push too hard by seeking her out. But they sat right next to each other most days. It didn’t have to be a big thing. Just a sentence.
Fifth period then. After lunch.
Maybe he should try writing a note, just in case.
***
The note didn’t work.
Max was already in the classroom before Mike. She tensed up as he approached but refused to look at him, even as he sat down noisily next to her and accidentally knocked his pencil case on the floor when trying to sort out his belongings. She refused to take her headphones off, even when he stared right at her – waving – to get her attention. She eventually had to take them off when the teacher arrived, but Mr. Sanders was a hard-ass who didn’t tolerate any noise in his classroom. Talking would get you sent straight to the principal.
His first attempt failed, but Mike still had his pre-prepared note – crafted and drafted several times over during English – which he slid over onto Max’s desk when Sanders’ back was turned.
She glanced at it but didn’t open it. Instead she reached out, snatched it up, and crumpled it in her fist. She did turn for a split second to glare viciously at him then resumed ignoring him.
Well. Fuck.
Mike needed a new plan.
***
After school, Mike sprawled on his back on the couch in the basement, throwing a ball up in the air as he contemplated different plans to get Max to talk to him – or at least look at him. Acknowledge his existence. Have any kind of reaction to his presence. Spit on him, even. Anything.
The first tape he played from Billy’s box – Metallica’s first album – filled the air in the basement with the soothing sound of sharp snares and distorted strings. By the time the fourth song on the album started, he still didn’t have a single idea that he thought might work.
Mike groaned and pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes, as though the extra pressure might yield better results than the nothing he’d come up with.
“Billy liked this one.”
Mike shot up from his prone position. Max stood at the foot of the stairs, looking over at the tape deck on his desk. In his self-recrimination, he hadn’t heard her climb down.
“Y-yeah?” Mike didn’t want to scare her off, but the eager crack in his voice might have given him away.
Max didn’t seem to notice. “It’s super melodramatic. Fast and loud. Just like him.”
“There is a job to be done and I'm the one. You people make me do it. Now it is time for your fate and I won't hesitate to pull you down into this pit,” James Hetfield sang.
The first verse led into a catchy repeated chorus. Mike continued staring at his unexpected visitor.
As the next verse started, Mike said, “You read my note.”
“No, but the whole attempt was so pathetic that I figured I could be the bigger person and allow you at least a modicum of my attention.”
“How magnanimous of you.”
Max inclined her head in a mockery of grace before throwing herself down on the couch in an ungainly sprawl.
They sat – not in silence, the tape was still playing, but in momentary connection.
“I can turn it off,” Mike offered as the guitar solo ramped up.
Max shook her head. “They’re just tapes.” The death grip she had on one of the many pillows piled on the couch belied her words. But, before Mike could point out her lie, she released a huge breath and deliberately loosened her grip. “It hurts,” she admitted, refusing to look up at Mike, “but it helps, a little.”
Mike nodded. “I get that.” He recalled the first hours of New Year’s Day and Will’s tape. He did end up crying, but it didn’t feel as bad as the last time – remembering hurt less when he focused on the good memories. “You want to hang and listen? I was just gonna do homework.”
At that, Max stared at him with a critical gaze. “Yeah, looking real productive there, Wheeler.”
“Hey! I was getting to it, okay?”
“Sure.”
Mike couldn’t help the smile on his face as he rose from the couch to get his homework from his bag by the stairs. The teasing felt good. Right. Like things were starting to return to normal.
They continued sitting on the couch, not touching or speaking, but letting Billy’s music fill the silence between them. Max didn’t do anything but rest her head on the backrest of the couch, staring up the basement ceiling, while Mike started on the assigned Bio chapters and revision questions as the album played.
As the final song faded out with the sound of marching boots, Max seemed to come back from her contemplation of the ceiling and realise where exactly she was and had been for nearly an hour.
She startled Mike by jumping up and rushing over to the stairs. She was already at the top, opening the basement door, by the time Mike had scrambled out his seat.
“Max!” he called out, desperate to reach her before she vanished again “You’re always welcome here. Whenever, for whatever reason. You know that, right?”
She stopped when Mike started speaking but didn’t say anything in return – not even a nod of acknowledgement or a glance backwards – before she walked out again.
Mike felt stupid for trying – it was as though he were talking to the wind, or sunlight. Something he was always feeling and reaching for but could never catch. That day was a fluke. It was enough that she didn’t hate him. It was too much to expect to see her or speak to her again outside of school.
Max wouldn’t come back.
***
But she did.
A week later she showed up on Mike’s doorstep without explanation and not saying much aside from “I don’t want to talk about Lucas.”
Mike agreed and let her in. They went down to the basement. Mike put in a tape and started on his homework. Max sank back on the couch. They listened to heavy metal in companionable silence.
It became their new thing. (Their first thing? Mike didn’t think they’d ever hung out alone before this.) At least twice a week she showed up – usually on a Thursday, but sometimes other days – to sit in the basement with Mike and listen to Billy’s music. Mike always offered to let her choose the tape but she waved him off. She enjoyed sneering at his choices, but he sometimes caught her smiling or nodding.
She never spoke about Billy again.
After a few visits, Max started bringing her own homework. She curled up on one end of the couch, balancing her book on her knees, and ignored the coffee table in front of her offering more stability. The sight of it infuriated Mike, who would try to draw her attention to the flat surfaces available to her – politely at first, then devolving into frustrated confusion and exasperated demands. He was certain she was doing it on purpose now, just to get a rise out of him.
A few weeks into school, sometime in early February, Max actually initiated a conversation.
They were listening to Metallica again – one of Mike’s go-to choices – but the second album this time. She’d stopped writing a few minutes before speaking, just sitting and listening to the music.
“It feels weird,” she said, drawing Mike’s attention, “that this kind of music can be sad too. It’s usually so …”
“Angry?”
Max nodded.
Mike turned back around to his homework. He knew what she meant. It was what drew him to the music in the first place: the rage, the pain, the unrestrained freedom the music promised in return for indulging in it. But albums like this – songs that most of the bands would slip into their albums – full of heartache and hurt caught him by surprise and lingered in his thoughts.
He didn’t think he could say this when he was looking at her but he tried to explain the appeal, why he gravitated to this album, these songs – all of it, really. “Anger’s safe. Boys aren’t supposed to cry. Or feel. Which is bullshit, I know. But we are allowed to be angry. And if you put it to music, it’s like all the anger is able to escape and evaporate as the music plays. Once you’re hooked on that – on the negativity of anger being released – it’s easy to let yourself feel and let the rest of it all out too. Sadness, hurt. Even joy.”
Mike had been thinking a lot recently about his feelings. He probably wasn’t making much progress in understanding them, but he was thinking about them.
Max was quiet, contemplative.
Mike worried he was showing too much of himself in his round about attempt to comfort her when she was clearly thinking about Billy. He cleared his throat and tried to soften his expression as he turned back around.
“It’s not an excuse for shitty behaviour. But I do get why people like this kind of music. It’s cathartic. You get to feel angry without actually yelling or punching someone.”
He almost expected a snide retort of, “Like you could even manage to land a punch,” but Max was silent, watching him with a blank expression. Too far. Too much Billy. Criticism or sympathy, he didn’t even know where he was going with that train of thought. Maybe refocusing on himself was the better idea.
Mike cleared his throat and gestured to the tape deck.
“Guess that’s why I like their second album more than their first,” he said, gesturing to the tape deck where the chords to Metallica’s “Fade to Black” were still resonating in the air. “Catharsis. Gives me an excuse to feel sad when otherwise I don’t feel like I’m allowed to be.”
The song continued playing as Max stared at Mike. He did his best not to look like he was avoiding her gaze.
“That’s some twisted fucking logic,” she finally said, rendering her judgement on Mike’s entire existence.
Mike snorted, not quite managing a laugh. “Like I said: bullshit.” He slid down in his chair, bending awkwardly and resting the base of his skull against the low back rest.
Surprisingly, Max spoke up, continuing the conversation – or redirecting it – with a question. “So what’s your favourite song on the album then?”
Mike craned his neck to look over at her again. She rolled her eyes at his disbelief and gestured for him to get on with his answer.
He sat up properly and swiveled around so he was fully facing Max. “I like the last song on the album. The instrumental. The Call of Ktulu.”
Max nodded seriously, then said, “Nerd.”
The name-calling startled a lough out of Mike. “Hey! You got the reference.”
“Yeah, but no one’s game enough to call me a nerd to my face.”
Taking the bait, Mike leaned forward to spell out, “N-E-R-D. Nerd.”
Max retaliated with a pillow thrown at his face.
That afternoon, filled with laughter and nylon stuffing torn from old cushions, was one of the best Mike had experienced since last summer. The image of Max’s messy ponytail and wide grin was seared into Mike’s memory.
Next Part (4/4)
#fanfic#stranger things#madwheeler#platonic madwheeler#mike wheeler#max mayfield#pre-season 4#canon compliant#past character death#friendship#vialana's fic
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Eddie was still in the coma, attached to so many tubes it made Wayne sick to look at sometimes. But they were keeping him alive, so he’ll manage. They were making sure he got to see his boy awake again.
There was still a metal cuff that was attached to his wrist. The other end attached to the bar of the hospital bed. As if he could spring up at any moment and just escape. When he’s been half dead for days. When Wayne hasn’t seen his eyes open since before Eddie went into hiding.
He hasn’t seen his boy for over a full week. Even though he’s been lying there on the bed for the last few days. Eddie won’t be back with Wayne until he wakes up. If he wakes up.
Everyday Wayne’s been here in between his shifts. Can’t afford to take the days off, with having to get a new place and all. Part of his paycheck’s paying for the hotel room he’s staying in while trying to find somewhere new to live. Even the abandoned houses are too pricy, and the trailer park’s in shambles.
Honestly, if he could, he’d be pulling as many doubles as possible just to get a new place and soon. But that would mean not being here. Might miss when he wakes up. Wayne doesn’t want to miss that.
It’s not like he’s lonely here either. There’s been other visitors. The kid that Eddie always talked about from his dungeon game. The one that he secretly liked above the rest of the freshmen. His bandmates came by once, looking guilty as hell when they did. They haven’t been back since.
There’s been a few other people Wayne hasn’t recognized. A few more kids from the club, some he didn’t even know Eddie knew. But they always came to check in before heading across the hall to see the boy there. The Harrington boy.
Wayne recognized it was him one day when the door was left open. He was asleep, with an IV in his arm along with some other cords. Not as many as his boy, but still there. There was a girl in there too, short brown hair and wearing a baggy jacket with some patches. She was holding his hand. It never seemed like she let it go.
The same girl checked in on Eddie a few times. Tried to make small talk with Wayne but left when she realized he was disinterested. Always heading back to the Harrington boy.
All he knew is that they both came in at the same time. Got admitted one after the other, but Wayne didn’t know what order. That they both had to go through some type of surgery to deal with the injuries. Though he hears Harrington’s was more cosmetic than anything. Eddie’s was to save his life.
Not that he’s judging. People could do whatever they wanted for all he cared. There were different doctor’s for different things. Priorities and all that. He just hoped that Harringotn wasn’t higher up on the list than Eddie was. Eddie was clearly the one in the worst condition.
The kid that kept visiting Eddie went over there a lot too. Dustin, is the kid’s name. Wayne can’t remember it half the time, he’s too busy focusing on something else. And just bone tired. But after Dustin sits next to Wayne for a while, updates Eddie on everything that’s happened that day, sometimes reads to him, he heads right across the hall and does it all again. Every single time.
Wayne has no clue how this boy could possibly be close with both Eddie and the Harrington kid. It’s not like they were in the same circles. Or seemed to remotely like each other at all. Wayne can explicitly remember the Harrington boy being apart of one of Eddie’s hate filled rampages. But if he’s remembering right, there was something different that really pissed Eddie off about him. Something that’s wrapped up in the same reason Wayne’s never seen Eddie bring a girl home.
But day after day, Dustin goes to Steve’s room after stopping by Eddie. Wayne can see why Eddie liked Dustin. He’s loud and dramatic just like Eddie. Likes the same game, same books, even starting to like the same music. But Dustin and the Harrington boy. He doesn’t get it.
Until he’s walking down the hall to get a cup of coffee and hears it. The bickering that leads into laughter. Snippy comments about something filled with inside jokes. Suddenly it all makes sense. They almost seem like brothers.
It’s a few more days until Wayne meets the Harrington boy himself. A nurse coming to check Eddie’s vitals leaves the door open on accident. Harrington peaks through when he’s on a walk down the hallway.
“Why is he handcuffed?” is the first thing Wayne hears from the kid. Voice filled with anger.
Before Wayne can get annoyed at explaining the whole situation to another stranger, explain how he knows his boy is innocent, the nurse is yelling at him.
“You can’t be in here, sir.”
“I don’t give a shit. Why is he handcuffed? He didn’t do anything wrong.”
Wayne is surprised that he’s not the one making the case this time. Somehow, this kid he’s never met believes his nephew is innocent. Just like he does.
The nurse snaps her folder shut, walking up to Steve and waving for help through the door. “That is private information. Go back to your room before you’re forced to.”
Steve rolls his eyes with a snarl, undoing the buttons on the front of his hospital shirt. “He didn’t give me these. He didn’t kill those kids. I know, I was there.” He begins to pull back the bandages, revealing scarred, mauled skin that looks just like Eddies. The nurse scolds him to stop. “He’s innocent, so why is he handcuffed to the bed?”
“He is still a suspect and deemed dangerous. Now get back to your room.”
More another nurse grabs Steve’s arm to try and pull him to his room. He shakes it off.
“Dangerous,” his voice raises. “He’s been in a coma for days and you think he’s dangerous. What is he going to do, pop up out of bed like he hasn’t been fucking asleep for days and almost died just to run away? He couldn’t do that if he tried.”
Security gets involved now, physically pushing Steve out of the doorway. The nurse shuts the door to Eddie’s room, cutting Wayne off from seeing it. She apoligized for the intrusion and gets back to checking on Eddie.
“He’s right, you know,” Wayne says, still hearing the noise from the hall. “My boy didn’t do nothin’ wrong. Can’t escape even if he tried. Or attack anyone for that matter. He’s been through enough, he doesn’t need to wake up to a cuff around his wrist.”
The nurse purses her lips, strained. “This is from above me, sir. But if the news is true, the cuffs are staying on.”
When the nurse opens the door again, the hall is clear.
The next time Wayne sees Harrington is when he leaves for the day. Only able to fall asleep so many times in a shitty hospital chair before needing to go home. Security presses for him to stay in his room, warning him.
“Just going to make a fucking phone call. I’m allowed to do that right?” When the security guard crosses his arms, the kid hits him with, “Don’t want me to get my dad involved, do you? Isn’t he one of the main donors for this hospital? Be such a shame if he stopped.”
Wayne almost laughs when the security guard moves out of the way. Harrington giving him the finger with a smirk as he walks down the hall to the payphone.
Maybe Eddie and the Harrington kid had more in common than Wayne thought.
now with a part 2
#might be a part two for this idk yet#wayne munson#eddie munson#steve harrington#dustin henderson#stranger things#stranger things ficlet#post season 4#pre steddie
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sure steddie dating pre-season 4 is great and all, steve rushing to eddie to check up on him instead of eddie attack him in the werehouse is nice
BUT
steddie hooking up pre season 4, then sorta-almost-dating but they have a big falling out and they dont see eachother until the werehouse IS JUST SO JUICY
even better if they had the argument bcs steve wasnt telling eddie something to protect him from the upside down fuckery. and in the werehouse they lock eyes as eddie realizes what steve has been lying about, and steve (who just realized he was in love with eddie) realizes he failed and eddie is now in the middle of this crazy dangerous shit and he blames himself ofc
and give me robin who knew steve had someone, but he didnt tell her it was eddie. and she connects the dots and looks at steve and they have a little silent conversation bcs holy shit i knew u were a boy kisser but an eddie kisser?!?!
#steddie#eddie munson#steddie dating pre season 4#stranger things#robin buckley#steve harrington#someone rly should write this fic#stares aggressively into a mirror
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some stranger things as textposts to lighten the mood
#funny man do drawing#enjoy#also the max one is more like pre season 4 but whatever#stranger things#stranger things season 4#mike wheeler#eddie munson#will byers#steve harrington#steddie#byler#robin buckley#st s4 v2#nancy wheeler#el hopper#lucas sinclair#dustin henderson#jonathan byers#max mayfield#my art#shitpost#murray bauman
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Eddie is having a boring summer day.
He could go to the mall if he wanted to, but it's hot outside, and he really doesn't want to deal with people at the moment. Plus, the last time he went, he's pretty sure he saw Steve Harrington in a sailor's uniform that made him feel a certain way. But he's pretty sure he hallucinated that.
He hopes he hallucinated that. Especially the part where he felt attracted to him. Like full-blown, he wanted to set sail on an ocean of flavor with him, or whatever stupid line he had said when he passed by the ice cream parlor.
So, yeah, the mall is not an option for him at the moment. But maybe it'll burn down or something and he'll never have to see Steve's face again.
A knock on his trailer door breaks him out of the slight trance, and Eddie rushes to answer it. He hopes it's not Jeff asking for his-
All thoughts stop when the door swings open and he finds Steve Harrington on the other side. In his sailor's uniform.
What the fuck?
Please be hallucinating.
"Hey," Steve says as if they've talked more than a handful of times over the past few years of passing each other in the hall.
Eddie swallows hard. "What are you doing here?" he asks, trying so hard not to eyefuck Steve.
"I was wondering if you were still selling weed?" Steve says.
Eddie sighs and gestures for him to come inside. Might as well get this over with so he can get closer to screaming into a pillow.
Once Steve is in his trailer, he closes the door behind him and rushes off to his room, grabbing his metal lunch/drug box quickly before looking in the mirror and quickly trying to clean himself up a bit. He stops when he realizes he's doing this for Steve Harrington for Christ's sake.
He opens up the little box and doesn't look at Steve and his damn beautiful hair as he pretends to look for his weed.
He isn't prepared for Steve to say, "I should warn you that I haven't gotten paid yet, so I was wondering if there was any other way I could pay for this?"
Eddie freezes and slowly looks up. There's no way he heard that correctly. Shit, is he dreaming? He does not want another Steve dream. Jeff had made fun of him for weeks after he confessed to it. "I'm sorry, what?"
Steve just shrugs casually. "Like, I could give you my watch until I can pay you properly."
Eddie sets his lunch/drug box down harshly on the counter next to him and runs both hands over his face. "Christ, Steve, that is not what I thought you meant."
"What did you think I meant?" Steve asks.
Eddie drops his hands from his face and raises his eyebrows at Steve, hoping he understands. Steve just tilts his head to the side, looking way too adorable for a damn jock, but Eddie blames the sailor uniform for that.
He sighs and curses under his breath before saying, "I thought you were offering to like..." he trails off and reluctantly gestures to his crotch.
Steve finally catches on to what he's saying as his eyebrows raise and his mouth makes a little 'o' shape. He nods for a second before pausing. "Wait, would that get me weed for free?"
Eddie's eyes widen. There's no way that Steve understood what he just gestured.
But then Steve shrugs and walks closer to him saying, "I won't tell if you don't."
Eddie quickly backs into his counter and hisses out, "There's no way I'm letting you blow me when I haven't even had my first kiss." He immediately regrets the words as soon as he says them. NOT because he just rejected Steve but because he just revealed to him that he's never been kissed before.
God, could this get any more embarrassing?
Steve pauses and looks him over, eyes flickering over his face as if considering... "How much would a first kiss get me?"
Eddie's pretty sure his heart stops. What the hell? "How fucking desperate are you for this weed?" Eddie asks.
"Not that desperate," Steve confesses.
Okay, this is definitely a dream. Eddie is now entirely convinced,
But then, Steve sighs and runs a hand through his hair before resting it on his hips. "Sorry, man, it's just... I haven't gotten any action in weeks now, and I have this coworker that reminds me every day about how much that means that I suck. And my favorite kid has gone away to this damn science camp. And my dad is being more of an asshole than usual whenever he comes home, which is honestly not often, but he still somehow makes my life hell. And I'm sorry for unloading this shit onto you right now and for making a move on you. But could you please let me know how I could get some weed without making you uncomfortable?"
Eddie stares at him for a few moments before he reaches into his bag for a half-ounce. He hands the bag to Steve, pressing it into his hand. "Usually twenty bucks, but it's on the house for you." Because shit, he needs it.
Steve stares at it for a few seconds before pocketing it. He doesn't leave though. He just stares at Eddie conflictedly.
"What?" Eddie asks.
"You're sure there's nothing I can do for you?" Steve asks.
Eddie almost thinks it sounds like he wants to do something for him. So he folds his arms and boldly asks, "Why did you offer to kiss me?"
Steve shrugs. "I've heard the rumors that you're um... And I just... I think that you're... cute. For a guy," he rushes to clarify.
Eddie stares at him for a few seconds. Is Steve Harrington... not straight? There's no damn way. He's probably just screwing with him or something. But also... he sees that look in his eyes - the curiosity and fear - that makes him think... maybe he's being genuine.
"Are you fucking with me?" Eddie breathes out.
Steve shakes his head. "No, I wouldn't do that. That's not cool."
Eddie pinches himself hard. Ouch. Not a dream.
"So," Eddie says carefully, "Are you still offering to kiss me in place of paying for the weed?"
"I'll make it worth it," Steve says quickly.
Eddie takes a second to think about it. And really, how the hell can he turn down Steve Harrington in a sailor outfit being his first kiss? He's a weak, weak man. But... it's also sacrificing twenty bucks.
Damn, it's worth it.
"Okay," Eddie breathes out.
Steve smiles and gets closer to him, successfully trapping him back against the counter. His hand comes up to slowly cup Eddie's face, stroking a thumb over his cheek as the other one rests on the counter behind him.
Eddie takes in a deep shakey breath.
Steve's eyes flicker down to his lips and back to his eyes. "I won't do anything you're not comfortable with, so just pinch me if you want out, okay?"
Shit, why do the words make Eddie's brain melt? He hums and nods in response.
Steve leans in slowly but stops right before kissing him to ask, "Can I please kiss you?"
"Fuck yes," Eddie says, grabbing Steve by the tie of the sailor's uniform and pulling him until his lips press against him.
It's like every nerve in Eddie's body is on fire. He lets go of the tie to run his hands over Steve's back, pulling him closer as Steve traces his tongue over the seam of his lips.
Eddie moans, letting him in, tasting mint and a hint of something cherry as Steve deepens the kiss. Eddie makes it his mission to get Steve as close as possible to him, hands moving into his gorgeous hair and tugging him closer, groaning when Steve pulls away and bites his bottom lip only to soothe it with his tongue before moving in again to kiss him.
Eddie gets lost in it all, knowing that no first kiss is supposed to be this fucking good. He groans when Steve's hands move to grip the back of his neck and try to pull him in the same way Eddie is doing to him.
And shit, he cannot get enough of him. But he also cannot breathe.
He breaks the kiss, panting into Steve's mouth, but not feeling bad about it when Steve does the same, sounding equally out of breath.
Steve still presses three more gentle kisses against his mouth before pulling back and mumbling out, "Fuck."
Eddie takes in the boy, flushed red, hair wild, lips a bit puffy and wet, and with pupils blown wide. And he knows the image will forever ruin him.
Steve runs his hand through his hair again - a nervous tick? - as he catches his breath.
Eddie can't help but ask, "Was that... okay?"
Steve's eyes widen in disbelief. "Are you kidding me? That was perfect. And you've never kissed anyone before?"
Eddie shakes his head.
"Shit, man. I guess you're a natural or something."
Eddie flushes red at the compliment.
Steve clears his throat and gestures toward the door. "Well, I've gotta head out. But thank you for this, and for not making fun of the stupid sailor outfit."
Eddie chokes down the words I think it's hot and instead says, "Of course, and if you want a... discount... I'm always available."
Steve nods. "Right." He smiles and moves toward the door.
Eddie follows behind him.
Right before he opens the door, Steve turns around and kisses him again, it surprises Eddie so much that he almost doesn't register Steve slipping something into his front pocket. But as Steve pulls away, he gives him a wink before slipping out the door and making his way to his car.
Eddie watches as Steve gets in and slides his hand into his pocket. He feels something folded up and pulls it out, looking down to find a twenty-dollar bill in his hand meaning...
Steve shoots him a wicked smile before driving away, joyfully bobbing his head along to whatever song is playing on his radio.
Eddie pinches himself one more time to make sure he isn't dreaming.
Ow.
He smiles wide. Maybe Steve will take him up on his "discount" again.
(Thank you @henderdads for suggesting the sailor uniform)
#steddie#eddie munson#steve harrington#stranger things#steddie ficlet#steddie crack#pre season 4 steddie
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Steve’s party trick was appearing sober long past the point of inebriation.
It was an act he’d perfected through observation. He’d watched his mother down wine like water and waltz into a garden party looking sober as a saint. So when everything went down at the Starcourt Mall, with the drugs and the appearance of another burgeoning concussion-induced migraine fogging the edges of his vision, he’d pushed through with professional tact.
Steve couldn’t explain how it happened. One moment he was sitting on the kitchen counter, cradling a bag of frozen peas to his bare face, freezer burn nipping at the edges of his consciousness, and the next he was sprawled out on the carpet of a stranger’s house.
What happened in between, he’d never know.
Maybe it was for the best. Ignorance was bliss, in Steve’s opinion. His life was so much easier before the Upside Down. He would’ve been a worse person and lived a worse life. Yet his life would’ve been close to normal, not the mercurial mess it’d become. He wouldn’t have spent the night locked in a secret underground soviet bunker, his face doubling as a punching bag for a man he didn’t know, while monsters roamed about the town.
The mall had burned down, Steve remembered. After all was said and done, Mrs Byers dropped him and Robin off at their respective homes. Steve insisted he didn’t need to go to the hospital, that he was fine and, more importantly, that his parents were home. When Robin sobered up, she’d realise Steve had lied.
He’d told Robin a lot of things, and after the night in the mall, so had she. She knew Steve’s parents had been out of town for months, but she’d been flying too high to use any of her admittedly brilliant brain to put two and two together. Steve loved Robin. He loved her differently after that night, but he still loved her. He was human. He needed time to lick his wounds and some space. The quiet of the Harrington house had seemed like a blessing, so where the hell was he now?
“Hey, what did you take?” A vaguely familiar voice shook Steve from his stupor.
He rolled away from the sound, burying his face in the carpet. He cringed as a spark of pain shot through the veiled numbness that’d inhabited his body since the Russian drugs had hijacked his system.
“Ouch,” Steve grumbled miserably.
His head throbbed. One eye was entirely swollen shut. Even if Steve was sober, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to place the boy through his hazy vision. All he could make out were colours, pale skin, dark hair, and darker clothes.
“I know. I know. You’ve got a real shiner, Harrington. Come on, up,” the boy instructed.
Steve felt cool skin graze against the nape of his neck, pulling him up into a sitting position. Steve remained boneless, not making the task easy.
He felt separate from his body, not sure where he ended and the rest of the world began. Once pulled up, he kept falling forward, his face making contact with the dark fabric of the boy’s shirt. The boy was more comfortable than the floor, with less carpet burn and more smooth leather. He smelled of smoke, sweat and an earthy kind of cologne that hadn’t been refreshed in hours.
“Elevator up,” Steve chuckled, laughing too hard for his own good.
His ribs ached. He felt a laugh shudder through the boy’s body as he pulled Steve back, trying to get a better look at him. He held a finger in front of Steve’s face.
“Not sure what this is meant to do but I’ve seen it in movies,” the boy commented as he moved his finger right to left, inspecting Steve’s face for something, neither boy was quite sure of.
“Alright. You’ve gotta know I’m the least likely person to narc on you, Harrington. What did you take? Special K? Some Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds? Were you Chasing the Dragon? Gotta be something stronger than weed, man,” the boy insisted.
Steve screwed up his nose and moved away from the man.
“I don’t know what you’re saying,” Steve complained, trying to untangle the string of words the guy had thrown his way.
Steve staggered to his feet, swaying before propping himself up, leaning against the wall, and feeling the whole thing tilt under his weight.
“Dude, your walls are broken,” Steve muttered, as his legs gave out and he slid down to the floor.
“We’re in a trailer, Steve,” the boy pointed out. Steve looked around the place, trying to make shapes from the blurs of colour and light.
“Oh yeah,” He noted before resting his chin on his knee.
The boy sat down in front of him, mirroring Steve’s posture, his chin resting on the bare knees of his ripped jeans.
“Do you know what you took?” He pushed on, this time taking a different approach.
“No,” Steve admitted, at last, sliding forward.
The boy’s rings had caught his attention. They were little halos of light. He curiously tugged at his hand, pulling him close to examine the shine. He ran his fingers over the rise and fall of the rings.
“Okay,” the dark-haired boy breathed, seemingly to himself.
“I think you need to go to the hospital, dude.”
“No hospitals,” Steve remarked eloquently as he returned to his previous position, face down on the carpet, taking the boy's hand with him.
“Yeah well, I’m not so sure I like the idea of you sleeping either, Stevie,” He reasoned, his voice sounding strangled.
“I’m tired,” Steve rebutted, his eyes sliding shut.
There the boy was again, taking Steve’s face into his palm and pulling him up. For a moment, the vision in his good eye cleared enough to make out brown eyes painted with concern.
“Look, I know we hated each other’s guts in high school but I don’t want you to O.D. on my carpet. It’s not good for the ambience,” the boy continued.
Steve squinted, trying to place the face. Sure, he’d been a jerk in high school, particularly before his senior year, but he didn’t remember hating anyone. Not really. Maybe Jonathan, for a time, but that had passed.
Munson. Steve’s brain supplied at last. The boy was Eddie Munson. He sold drugs and hung out on the fringes of Steve’s bigger parties back in the peak of his ‘King Steve’ era.
“You hated me?” Steve asked, hearing the hurt in his voice before he realised what he was feeling. Eddie’s eyes widened in alarm, Steve’s face still in his palm.
“What? No. I thought you hated me. I mean, you were a jock and I’ve got my whole ‘fuck the man shtick’, so it wasn’t like we ran in the same circles,” Eddie elaborated.
“Jocks are ‘the man’?” Steve questioned. He’d like to blame the drugs, but he’d probably ask the question sober.
“No. Yes. Kind of. Jocks are like... the grease for a cog in the wheel of the machine. All mass compliance to societal norms... or whatever.”
Steve blinked owlishly at Eddie, trying to make a lick of sense out of what he’d said before resigning himself to the fact that he was completely lost.
“I like Grease. It’s a cool movie,” he settled on, startling another laugh out of Eddie. He gently lowered Steve’s face onto the carpet and sighed.
“Yeah, it’s a cool movie,” he muttered, leaving Steve for a moment, tossing sheets and a pillow from the sofa to the floor beside him.
“Look, I’m going to stay up and make sure you don’t choke on your own tongue. You can stay here for the night, but I’m not letting you crash until my uncle gives you the thumbs up, weirdo.”
Eddie slid a cushion beneath Steve’s head and draped the sheet over him. Steve was bone tired. He wanted nothing more than to sleep, but the pain in his body was growing by the moment and less favourable memories were leaking back into the forefront of his mind. He watched as Eddie placed a tape into the VCR and sat down beside Steve. It took him too long to realise the film was Grease.
“Who’d you get into a fight with this time?” Eddie asked, seemingly aware of Steve’s sudden restlessness.
Steve didn’t answer. He didn’t know how to.
“Were the drugs before or after?” He pushed, searching for something Steve couldn’t work out.
Again, Steve didn’t know how to answer. Once more, Eddie let it slide.
“You want me to call anyone? A girlfriend... or?” He doesn’t mention Steve’s parents.
Maybe he was at more parties than Steve remembered, enough to know that the Harringtons being in Hawkins was rarer than a blue moon, less frequent than even Steve would admit to.
“No,” Steve grumbled, starting to feel the swelling in his lip.
Eddie nodded and let Steve have his silence. He half paid attention to the flashing lights on the screen, fading in and out of consciousness. Eddie would gently elbow his side each time Steve almost reached sleep. It was a long night, broken only by the opening of a door come sunrise.
The light was too bright, too sudden. Steve shrunk from it curling into the closest point of dark comfort. Steve realised too late he’d curled himself into a small ball, tucking his face into the familiar darkness provided by Eddie’s crossed legs.
“What in the Sam Hill have you gotten into, kid?” Steve heard a gruff voice ask in the doorway. Despite his words, the man didn’t sound angry, more amused.
Steve felt Eddie pull the sheets up to hide his broken face from the light.
“You know when I was fourteen, and I brought home that stray cat?” Eddie asked.
Steve heard a door shutting and the scrape of a dining chair sliding against the linoleum.
“The one that was sick as a dog?” The gruff voice replied. Probably Eddie’s uncle.
“Same situation,” Eddie spoke.
“You’re telling me you found a kid wanderin’ round the trailer park at night and thought you’d bring him home? You remember what happened to that cat, right?” His uncle asked.
“He went missing after a week. Then we found him half-kickin’ curled up in the back seat of the Johnsons’ cinder-blocked Austin,” Eddie muttered, stating the words as though it were a conversation Eddie and his uncle had before.
“And you didn’t leave your room for a week.”
“Your point, old man?” Eddie remarked.
“My point is, I love you, kid. But sometimes your bleeding heart is more trouble than it’s worth.”
To Steve’s surprise, the sheet was pulled off his head. The next thing he knew he was face to face with Eddie’s uncle. The man shone a torch in Steve’s eyes, echoing Eddie’s movements, placing a finger in front of his eyes. Eddie watched in silence at Steve’s side.
“He’s got a pretty bad concussion,” Eddie’s uncle supplied after a beat.
“He was on something when I found him,” Eddie said.
Steve was getting sick of people talking about him like he wasn’t there but in the same vein, he wanted to convalesce in peace. Eddie’s uncle shot him a sceptical look.
“Nothing I gave him, promise. He’s not letting me take him to the hospital.”
“He’s right here,” Steve interjected.
He watched as Eddie’s uncle levelled him under his intense gaze. For the first time since he’d entered the room, he wasn’t seeing symptoms, or a problem Eddie had dropped in his lap but a boy. A kid, in Wayne’s eyes, one that looked worse for wear. It was the goddamn cat all over again.
“I’m going to get you water and some aspirin. Eds, get some rest. No buts, kid you look like you haven’t slept a wink. Should also be safe enough for you to try to get some shut-eye, boy. I’m not Eddie, you can’t bat your eyes at me and get your way. I’m taking you to the hospital if anything happens, right?”
Steve looked at the man with narrowly masked surprise before giving him a weak nod. He couldn’t imagine his parents doing the same, not even for one of Steve’s friends, let alone a stranger.
“Come on, you can sleep in my room,” Eddie uttered, springing to his feet with a joviality that someone who’d gone twenty-four hours without sleep shouldn’t be able to muster.
Steve blinked, slowly standing and gathering the sheets around himself, acutely aware of how ridiculous he looked.
“Keep the door open,” Wayne called at their retreating backs.
That was how Steve spent the summer of ‘85 hauled up and healing at the Munsons’ trailer. A few months later, he’d return the favour. When Eddie went missing, Wayne knew where to look.
#steddie#steddie ficlet#Pre season 4#because I'm on my pre season 4#steddie bullishit#again#stranger things#fictlet#post starcourt#st 4#steve harrington#eddie munson#steve and eddie#my unused psych degree#wants you to know that#what Steve experienced is called a#dissociative fugue#steddie drabble#drabble#Metalhoops writes
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Part One (You are Here) | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five
“So.” Jeff starts, voice rising over the Dio cassette Eddie put on, volume down low for once. It makes good background noise. Filling the space of Eddie’s bedroom. Not that it’s not full already.
“Okay so we’re doing this?” Eddie asks, turning around from where he was sorting through the pile of stuff on top of his dresser, stray D20 in hand. He flings himself onto his bed, bouncing on the mattress. He’s looking at Jeff with a shit-eating grin, although it’s not unkind.
“Doing what?” he replies, frowning, turning from where he’s sat at the small desk by the door. There’s not a lot of space, not a lot of wiggle room, so Jeff is immediately faced with Eddie staring at him knowingly from the mattress. They’ve known each other since middle school, since Eddie moved into town, and he can tell with just a glance that Eddie is seeing straight through him.
It’s only fair, he concedes, he saw straight through Eddie.
“This thing you can’t stop thinking about, but haven’t told anyone. That thing?” Eddie starts, resting his head in his hands. It almost looks like he’s going to start kicking his feet like a girl in a sleepover. The kind of scenes you see in movies. All cliche and shit. “We’re talking about it?”
“Yeah.” Jeff sighs. Takes a deep breath. He looks over at Eddie, watches as his best friend raises an eyebrow, smiles, silently prompts him along.
“You know your horrific crush on Steve Harrington?” he eventually starts, fingers absently tapping at the wood of the chair he’s claimed. He can feel it swirling in his chest. The words, the feelings, all the stuff he had been running through his mind. Eddie won’t be mean about it, of course he won’t, but there’s going to be gentle ribbing and he’s really not sure if he’s ready for it. Maybe with just the two of them it'll be okay. Eddie gets it, after all, maybe better than anyone.
Eddie just snorts. “I’m aware, yes.”
“And how I teased you for being into the preppiest jock in Hawkins?” He adds, resisting the urge to tap his foot, bounce his knee, run his socked foot along the carpeted floor.
“Also, yes.”
“Well.” Jeff says, and he grimaces. Leaves the sentence there. He doesn’t need to finish it just yet, Eddie will pick up the pieces. Slot them into place.
He sees the exact second Eddie gets it. Watches his eyes light up as it clicks. The glee on his face is evident, the bastard. It's fucking radiating out of him, leaking out through his pores.
“No,” Eddie gasps, scrambling to sit up on his bed, inching towards Jeff. He's gripping the sheets, the tan floral fabric strained between his fingers. “No fucking way. You have a crush?”
He just nods, humming in affirmation.
“Well who is it?” Eddie asks, bouncing in place. He's giddy, fidgeting and not quite staying still. “C’mon, tell me. Are they more attainable than Steve Harrington, at least?”
“On one hand they're more attainable,” Jeff starts, gesturing with his hands. “Because, y'know, straight.”
Eddie hums, nodding, eyes wide. He wouldn't ever admit it, but he was an incorrigible gossip at heart. Always wanting to know things about people. Listening when Wayne talks about the guys from the plant, picking up rumours from people who bought from him, slowly learning what's happening in the trailer park. Who was sleeping with who, who doesn't do their job, who was moving in.
So when Jeff hinted he had a crush? Eddie was all over it. He was also his best friend, so that helped.
“But on the other hand they're less attainable,” Jeff says, taking a deep breath. Bracing himself for whatever dramatic reaction Eddie was going to spout. “Because it's Chrissy Cunningham.”
His traitorous heart leaps in his chest the second he says her name. A smile threatens to creep across his face. Chrissy Cunningham. Out of all the cheerleaders, she was the one who stood out. She was cute, and kind, with a smile that lit up the room. The curl of her bangs that framed her face, the way she matches her eyeshadow to her scrunchie. Jeff couldn’t stop staring at her. Couldn’t stop noticing things about her.
Eddie looks positively giddy, bouncing on the worn springs of his mattress, grinning like the devil himself. Wide eyes and bared teeth, ringed fingers gripping his sheets even tighter. He’s electric, he’s vibrating out of his skin. If he were wearing his wallet chain, Jeff would hear him jingling.
“Yes!” He exclaims, hair swinging around his face as he moves. Not unlike he’s headbanging. “Jeffery! Jefferson! Join me in Hell!”
Jeff can’t help but concede a laugh, ducking his head, almost pressing his chin to his chest. Hiding a smile, almost shy. It’s kind of nice, having it out in the open now. Having Eddie welcome him into the world of crushes on the most popular kids in school.
“The fucking karma is so juicy right now Jeffington, oh my god! Eat shit!” Eddie adds, excitedly tapping his feet. He bounces back onto his bed, patting a spare spot of mattress beside him. “But I’m just too excited, Jesus Christ, you get it now!”
“I fucking get it now,” Jeff laughs, getting up off the chair and flopping onto the bed beside Eddie. Feeling the worn sheets beneath his back, looking up at the yellowed ceiling of the trailer. “There’s no way in Hell anything is going to happen, I know this, but fuck, she’s the cutest girl I’ve ever seen.”
“Yeah, says you and half of Hawkins High,” Eddie replies, laughing, looking over at Jeff, crossing his legs underneath him.
“Like you’re one to judge, ‘Mr I have a crush on Steve Harrington,’ the most popular guy in school. Even him stopping throwing those parties didn't make people hate him.” Jeff laughs, gently shoving at Eddie, moving him towards the edge of the bed. “You call him an asshole and then turn around and daydream about his laugh, or his eyes, or his hair.”
“Listen,” He retorts, splaying his hands out when he talks. “I am but a humble homosexual, and even I can’t deny the fact that that preppy, douchey, jock is a fucking smokeshow.”
“What?” Jeff laughs. “You want him to slap your ass and hook up with you in the locker room? Woo you with all his dumb jock shit?”
“Literally, yes,” Eddie laughs, flopping down onto his bed now next to Jeff, the corner of his mouth pulling up into a grin as Jeff snorts. Locks eyes with his best friend, and lets his gaze soften a bit. “But tell me about Chrissy, how did this happen?”
Jeff sighs, and is only a little embarrassed at how wistful it sounds. His stomach swoops, organs melting into something soft and gooey as he paints her in his minds eye. As he pictures her.
“I just,” He starts, and then stops. Sighs again. “I always noticed Chrissy, always thought she was pretty — because y’know, cheerleader, it's a given — but I didn’t think much further than that.”
“Until?” Eddie asks, drawing out the word. He nudges Jeff's leg with a socked foot.
“Until I held open a door for her one time,” he sighs, giving into Eddie's prompting. “And she giggled, and thanked me, and it sort of hit me just how much I wanted to kiss her.”
Eddie fucking yelps, grabbing and shoving at Jeff's shoulder. He laughs along with him, his energy infectious. Let's himself move along with the motions, shoving back at Eddie, bedsprings creaking underneath the pair of them. A part of him absently wonders how much of this Wayne can hear. Raising Eddie, he's probably used to it — the noise. The energy. “Jeff, you sly dog!”
“I didn't actually kiss her,” Jeff laughs. “I just thought about it.”
“Oh I bet you thought about it,” Eddie teases, wiggling his eyebrows, continuing to grip and shove at Jeff's arm.
“Oh shut up,” Jeff laughs. “Like you're one to judge.”
“Oh, I'm not judging,” he replies, stopping his shoving so they're just resting on his bed together. Hair splayed out across the mattress, fingers absently picking at his sheets. “You remember the things I've said to you about Steve.”
“I do, yes.”
“But,” Eddie says, rolling over onto his side, propping himself up and looking down at Jeff. “We’re not talking about how much I’ve talked about wanting to suck Steve’s dick right now.”
Jeff snorts.
“It’s more than that, isn’t it?”
“Yeah,” Jeff exhales, the air leaving his lungs softly, as he lets himself melt a little further into Eddie’s mattress. It’s easy, here with Eddie. His best friend, whom he knows everything about and knows everything about him in return. “I see Jason hold her hand as they walk through the halls, and hold her books for her. One time I saw them at a movie date together at The Hawk when I was out with my parents, and I want that.”
Eddie makes a noise, low and soft, as he looks over at Jeff.
“I’ll never get it, not with her, but oh man,” he adds. “I can’t stop thinking about it.”
“I get it.” Eddie adds, voice still soft and low. “I know I talk about how hot Steve is, but I saw him and that Wheeler chick in the halls. How he’d swing her round and kiss her.”
It sort of hits him, just then, just how much Eddie wants this as well. Wants soft kisses, and romantic gestures. Intimate dates and someone happy to see him. But he can’t be seen wanting things he’ll never get. It hurts too much.
“When we get out of Hawkins,” Jeff says simply. “We’ll get this. We’ll find people who find our metal music and shitty garage band endearing. You’ll find someone who wants to kiss you in the halls.”
Eddie snorts, but he’s smiling sort of bittersweetly while he does it. “And you��ll bag yourself a cheerleader.”
Jeff smacks Eddie’s side, waving his arm out half-heartedly. They stay like that, sitting in the silence, chilling on Eddie’s bed together. It’s nice.
“So we agree we’re not telling Gareth about this?” Jeff says, propping himself up to look at Eddie.
“Oh we’re absolutely not telling Gareth about this. '' Eddie replies automatically. “He’ll be so annoying about it.”
“One day he’ll get a crush on a prep,” Jeff replies, smiling. “And then we’ll tell him.”
“The Corroded Coffin curse?” Eddie laughs. “Getting a crush on a prep?”
“Definitely,” he replies. “First you, now me. Frank’s next, and then Gareth is going to eat his words about those hot metal chicks he definitely has a crush on.”
“Who are definitely real, and absolutely not just models in magazines he jerks off too,” Eddie laughs, and it’s nice. Sharing this. Sharing this with someone who gets it. It’s not just that their crushes are preps, or jocks. It’s that their crushes are popular, and hot, and people who are never going to look at them twice.
Jeff laughs, an exhale of air, and nudges his foot against Eddie’s.
Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five
#stranger things#eddie munson#jeff stranger things#corroded coffin#momo.txt#i got a bunch of work emails from a guy named jeff cunningham#and this happened#thanks jeff#i had fun!#jeff/chrissy is cute as hell#even if its only a crush rn#eddie calls steve an asshole and a douche in this but its set pre season 4#eddie is still drowning in his unfounded biases against steve#my Writing#Teenage Dream
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hihi
what do you reckon Louis’ hair looked like when he was around clems age in s1?
here’s the little man, louis! (…and his friends. ^_^)
#twdg#the walking dead game#twdg fanart#clementine twdg#louis twdg#violet twdg#twdg s4#or.. pre season 4?#THIS WAS REALLY FUN#apologies for doing a little more than just his haircut i got excited#violentine#clouis#the three of them?#it would’ve been so sweet if the three of them met earlier#i had fun doing their little shitty kid drawings i think they are endearing#it’s comforting to see them just being kids#i hope i got his haircut accurately!!#to be honest i was just bullshitting#BUT YES#PLEASE TELL ME#i became insanely off-track drawing this
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Let’s Dance
Author: oskedol
Rating/Warning: General
Chapter Count: 1/2
Description:
As Chrissy attends her first Middle School dance, she’s distracted by a dishevelled older boy sitting alone on the bleachers.
As Eddie attends his first (and only) Middle School dance, he’s distracted from his sulking by a younger girl drowning in tulle who asks him to dance.
Tags: Middle school, pre-season 4, snowball dance, fluff, Eddie has a crush on Chrissy, Chrissy is a sweetie, we love Wayne, alternating POV, two-shot, status: WIP
#Middle school#pre-season 4#snowball dance#fluff#Eddie has a crush on Chrissy#Chrissy is a sweetie#we love Wayne#alternating POV#two-shot#status: WIP#eddsy#eddie munson#eddissy#eddie x chrissy#eddie and chrissy#chreddie#chrissy deserved better#hellcheer#chrissy cunningham#munningham#stranger things#hellcheer fanfic
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Fic: Better Raise Your Ears 2/4
Stranger Things fic. Mike & Max. Mike-POV. Gen.
Summary: Mike and Max aren’t friends. But they’re not not friends.
Or: Max doesn’t open up, Mike doesn’t push, and things don’t get better. But they do manage to find some sort of calm amidst the chaos, even if it’s not enough to do more than postpone the inevitable.
Relationships: Mike & Max, Max & Billy, Max/Lucas
Notes: pre-S4, grief, past character death, friendship, music references, mentioned Mike/El, implied one-sided Mike/Eddie (Mike’s got a crush)
Also on Ao3
Previous Part (1/4)
Part 2
Next Monday, Max broke up with Lucas for good. He was inconsolable for the rest of the week and throughout the Thanksgiving break. Mike and Dustin did their best to support him, but he often just pushed them away to cry alone in his room.
Mike didn’t allow himself that privilege. It was his fault. He didn’t deserve to be upset. But he didn’t dare tell Lucas that. He could hate himself enough for the both of them.
***
The day before they were due back at school after break, Mike found himself at Max’s new home in the trailer park, frantically knocking on her front door. The box of Billy’s tapes sat by his feet. Ms. Mayfield’s car was gone; she must have been at work. But Mike knew Max was home. He’d heard the television before it turned off as he climbed up the stairs to the porch.
“Max! Max, c’mon. I need to talk to you.”
Mike paused in his pounding so that she would be able to hear him.
“Look, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have looked through the box. I shouldn’t have played the tapes. It was just …” Mike thought about how to explain it. “Look, at first it was an accident. Kind of. My parents were arguing and I needed something to drown them out.”
Mike was often quite vocal about his own disagreements with his parents, but he rarely opened up about disputes between them that turned serious, much the same way he rarely opened up about the way his father’s indifference and blithe comments could cut him deep enough to wound.
“I just grabbed a tape that I knew would be loud and would distract me.”
He looked down at his scuffed shoes and the open box beside them. “It worked, I guess. But then I just … I don’t know. I know it was wrong, but I was curious. I wanted to hear more.”
He sighed and leaned forward so his forehead rested against the closed door. “I feel bad that I hurt you. I should have asked. I know you would have said no, and maybe that’s why I didn’t. I guess I just wanted something to help drown out the rest of the world for a minute or two. Never mind that I didn’t have the right to do so.”
Mike sighed, pressing further into the door.
“Look, I’m an asshole. We know this – you are very fond of reminding me. I almost miss you calling me an asshole. But that’s just me. Lucas and Dustin, they don’t deserve to be cut out of your life. Lucas especially. You can hate and avoid me all you want, but please, don’t break up with him. Not because of this.”
He waited, holding his breath, but almost a minute passed and she didn’t respond. His shoulders slumped. He pressed his hands against the door one last time then pushed away.
Just as he did so, the door opened and he almost fell to the ground. He stumbled and caught himself on the door frame.
Max didn’t watch his flailing with even a slight sneer like she otherwise would. She looked like she’d been crying – eyes red rimmed, cheeks flushed but the rest of her face even more pale than usual. She looked exhausted – done with the entire world, never mind the insignificant speck that was Mike Wheeler.
Mike straightened up. “I’m sorry,” he said, again, making sure she knew.
“I heard.”
“Don’t break up with Lucas.”
This got a scowl. “My relationship with Lucas is none of your business.”
Mike bit back the retort about her own pointed interference with his relationship with El in the summer just in time. “I know, but he’s my best friend. And he’s miserable.”
Max flinched back, folding her arms across her chest as though she could shield herself from the existence of Lucas’ hurt. “I know. But I’m not getting back together with him.”
“Why?” Mike asked before he really thought it through.
“None of your fucking business!” Max glared and slammed the door in his face.
Mike debated banging on the door again to get her attention – or at least annoy her into opening it once more – but thought about her tired eyes and the way her hand shook where she clutched the door knob. He stepped back instead.
His foot caught on the box left on the porch.
Mike hesitated, but picked it up and took it with him as he left.
***
Everyone was a little cautious around Lucas for the rest of the year. Though he was obviously upset, he tried to move past the breakup as best he could. Unfortunately, that did mean he was spending more time with the basketball team than before. The season was ramping up and Lucas seemed to enjoy the focus it gave him. The distraction.
It was good to see him working towards happiness, but it did leave Mike and Dustin feeling a little left behind. Lucas would always do his best to make the mandatory Hellfire meetings, but he skipped more often than not on the optional ones and he was rarely seen in his club shirt outside of the co-opted drama room on game nights.
The last meeting Eddie called on the Monday morning of the last week before winter vacation and their final session of the year was very sparsely attended. The older boys had assessments they were behind on and Dustin was tutoring in the library for Biology. Lucas didn’t even give an excuse. So it was just Eddie and Mike sitting on the table with music blaring while they toyed with the placements of mobs Eddie had been working on for the campaign on Friday.
Mike was nodding along to the music as he studied the board by his thigh, twisting an old troglodyte figurine between his fingers. He absently mouthed a few of the lyrics.
“Didn’t realise you’d started growing a taste in music, Wheeler,” Eddie said as he shifted one of the dungeon walls he’d moved earlier back to where it was before.
Mike’s head jerked up. “Huh?” he’d been so focused on the board that he wasn’t really paying attention but, now that he was, he actively listened to the song playing.
“The only thing you see, you know it's gonna be, the ace of spades.” The captivating rasp of Lemmy’s voice echoed in the empty room as Motörhead’s iconic song whirled its way towards conclusion.
For some reason, Mike blushed. Eddie was teasing him, but it wasn’t mean.
“It’s a recent thing.”
Eddie swung his legs completely up on the table so he could face Mike – figurines and delicate dungeon arrangements forgotten. “I feel like I should be offended, with you going to someone else for music recommendations.”
“No!” Mike leaned forward, swinging his own legs up to mirror Eddie’s position in front of him. “It wasn’t like that! I wasn’t looking or, like, planning to …” Mike trailed off as he realised how ridiculous he was sounding. And because of the way Eddie was grinning at him.
“Relax, Wheeler. A man’s first time is something real personal. That ecstasy and euphoria rushing through you the first time you hear something real good.” Eddie whistled appreciatively then grunted – a guttural sound that caused Mike’s blush to return in full force. The smirk he directed at Mike wasn’t something he should express in public. “Orgasmic.”
Mike shoved at Eddie, who was laughing at Mike’s embarrassment. “Oh my god. Shut up!”
“You are too easy, Wheeler.” Eddie ruffled the still growing mop of hair on Mike’s head. Mike tried not to think about how he’d been growing it out, avoiding his mother and her hints at a haircut. But Eddie’s fond grin, framed by his own lengthy curls, made his heart speed up. This. This was what he wanted. Who he wanted to be. Not exactly Eddie Munson, but he wanted the same freedom and take-no-shit attitude Eddie exuded with every breath.
So, Mike let himself fall into the banter with a retorted, “You wish.”
Eddie laughed, delighted. “Someone’s feeling playful tonight.”
Mike shrugged. “Guess I’m in a good mood.”
“That’s rare these days.”
The smile slid from Mike’s face. Eddie was still staring at him, so he definitely noticed the change in mood.
“C’mon. You – and Sinclair and Henderson – have been miserable for like the past month. I want to end this year on a high note on Friday. Close out ’85 with a real bang. So, spill it and let me help. ‘Cause I kinda like this side of you, Wheeler. And until tonight I’ve only really got to see it during games.”
Mike hesitated, not used to opening up. But then, no one had really asked him before. He could always talk to Dustin or Lucas, but they were hurting too and, while they could obviously sympathise – and he with them – they didn’t know this one secret he was keeping about Max. About his possible part in her pulling away. He didn’t want to hurt them more. He didn’t want them to turn away from him too.
Eddie, though. He was a friend. And older, arguably wiser – he’d definitely been right about Mike’s fashion choices – and distant enough from the problem that he might actually provide some good insight.
“Lucas’s girlfriend Max broke up with him.”
Eddie nodded, relaxing back on his hands and making this difficult conversation easier to discuss by seeming so casual. “I heard.”
“We were all friends. Before they started dating.” Mike frowned. “Well, Max and I were never really friends. I mean, I guess we were – are – but we weren’t close. And we spent more time arguing than talking. Occasionally bantering. Mostly bickering.”
Eddie frowned. “Wheeler, you didn’t make a move on Sinclair’s girl, did you?”
“What?! No!” Mike drew back with a scowl. “Ew. No. Why would you think that?”
Eddie shook his head. “You didn’t seem the type to do that, but you sound kinda guilty – talking around the problem. I just wanted to clarify.”
Mike’s disgust fell away and the guilt rushed back in. “Oh. That obvious, huh.” He hunched over, trying to avoid looking directly at Eddie by staring at his hands clutching his crossed ankles. “No, I wouldn’t do that. And I’d never with Max anyway. But I do feel like it’s my fault they broke up. Kind of.”
“Talking around, Wheeler.”
Mike sighed. “Look, you remember Billy Hargrove?”
“Gorgeous hair, great taste in music, absolute piece of shit personality?”
“That’s him. He’s – was – Max’s stepbrother. She kind of hated him. But he was still her brother. She hasn’t been dealing well with his death.”
“So you pushed and she didn’t react well?”
“No. She’d never talk to me about it. I thought she might open up to Lucas, maybe Dustin, but not me. But then one day she showed up at my house with some of Billy’s things. Music, mostly.”
“Why you?”
Mike sighed. “Million dollar question. I dunno. She was moving and I had room? Whatever. Point is, I messed up. I got curious about the tapes and started listening to them without telling her and then she found out and freaked out. Next day, she breaks up with Lucas. I tried to apologise but she slammed the door in my face and is still not talking to anyone.”
Eddie hummed. Mike tried not to fidget as he waited for whatever Eddie was going to say.
“I don’t get it,” Eddie finally said.
Mike frowned. “Get what?”
“Why you think it’s your fault they broke up.”
“She ran away from my house, upset, then next Monday she broke up with Lucas. How is it not my fault?”
“Aren’t you all into science and shit? Correlation is not causation. That’s a phrase you nerds like, right?”
Mike tried to shake his head but Eddie grabbed him by the shoulders and forced Mike to meet his gaze.
“Look, whatever happened with you and Max is between you and Max. Does anyone else even know about the music?”
Mike shook his head.
“Right,” Eddie continued. “And you two never talked about Sinclair.”
“Of course not – we don’t even really talk at all.”
“Then how could you influence anything about their relationship? It’s theirs - hers and Sinclair’s. There’s probably shit going on there you know nothing about.” Eddie released Mike’s shoulders and gave him a gentle reproving shove. “Kinda arrogant to think a relationship you’re not even involved in is about you.”
Mike chuckled, still feeling like shit but less guilty and more embarrassed having talked all this through with Eddie. “Yeah. I do that sometimes.”
“Hadn’t noticed.” It was such a blatant tease from the DM who, during their last session, built in a trap he knew Mike would fall for just because he knew it would appeal to Mike’s ego. Mike responded by shoving back at Eddie the same as he’d done before.
Mike picked up the figurine he’d abandoned before the start of their conversation, feeling the need to pull back and hide his emotions away again. “Thanks,” he said, with a small voice.
Eddie followed his lead and swung his legs back down off the table to jump off it. “No worries, Wheeler.” When Mike followed his lead to jump off the table, he said, “One last piece of advice?” Mike looked up to meet Eddie’s sincere gaze. “You can’t fix every problem – especially not shit that’s not your business. But sometimes it’s enough just to be there. Loneliness is a bitch.”
It was as though Eddie wasn’t just talking about Max now.
Mike was brought back to the memory of when he first met Eddie – of how he was feeling, the distance and isolation that was seeping into his bones as he stated pulling away from his friends (like Max). He thought about the way Eddie kept throwing his arm over Mike’s shoulders – drawing him in, asking him questions, teasing him with a gentle laugh. He could feel the difference in himself, could recognise that – even if he didn’t know exactly what she was feeling or going through – Max needed something, some kind of tether to cling to. Even if she didn’t know it or want it.
“Just be there,” Mike repeated to himself.
Eddie clapped him on the shoulder and turned him around to face the table.
“All right, that’s enough moping. Let’s get this done. This run is gonna blow your tiny freshie minds.”
Mike laughed, deliberately shaking away the seriousness of earlier to focus on the task at hand. “Looking forward to it.” He bent down to help Eddie straighten up the dungeon walls into the configuration from where they left their campaign last session.
He did allow himself one indulgence.
“Hey Eddie? Wanna turn up the music?”
Eddie’s grin was delighted and a little feral. “Now you’re talking, Wheeler.”
The two of them spent the rest of the afternoon immersed in D&D and albums Eddie insisted Mike would love now that his eyes (ears) had been opened.
***
Mike didn’t let himself dwell too much on missing El and Will. But Christmas – and the promise he made to come visit, or have El visit him – passed without much more contact than a rushed phone call, a brief “Happy Holidays” to Will, and a letter from El that arrived after New Year. He spent most of winter vacation moping in his basement, aside from a few insistent outings pressed on him by Dustin – who was vocally sick of both Mike and Lucas’ moods over the break.
’85 turned to ’86 with a modest celebration at the Wheelers. His parents invited a few friends and neighbours over for dinner and drinks. Nancy was out at a party (rare for her these days) and Holly was asleep by nine. Mike, Lucas and Dustin recreated their usual tradition of board games and scary movies in the basement with the borrowed television.
Enough laughter and teasing – even some name calling during a particularly tense round of Clue – ensued that it was almost enough to have the three boys forgetting the absences in their small circle. However, when the countdown started, Lucas looked around with a grin but didn’t find Max at his side. It faded and the three boys passed the final seconds of the year in silence.
Both Lucas and Dustin left not long after midnight, shaking snow from their bikes. Mike avoided the still active party in the living room and resumed his moping in the basement, curling up in all the blankets discarded by the boys earlier. He didn’t turn on another movie but instead grabbed his tape deck.
He considered the box. The damage was already done with Max so, after Mike took the box back after his visit, he’d continued listening through Billy’s back catalogue. But Mike wasn’t in the mood for that kind of music.
Instead, he pulled out one of his own old tapes – a mix Jonathan helped Will make as a gift for Mike. It had fewer songs that Jonathan preferred but did have songs Will liked that he thought Mike might appreciate. Mike still wasn’t a huge fan of The Clash, but Will had put “Should I Stay or Should I Go” on the mix when Mike admitted his newfound appreciation, given that the song helped Mike find him. He’d also put some Bowie they both enjoyed and an ABBA song he’d caught Mike dancing to when they were younger. It was an eclectic mix, covering pop and rock, synthwave and punk.
Mike adored it.
But he rarely listened to it. Last time he’d cried for a day and hid himself away from everyone for a week.
As much as Mike was enjoying his new foray into metal, just then he needed the comfort of his old favourites – of the music he listened to on lazy days with Will. And the rest of the Party.
The first song was Pat Benetar's "Love is a Battlefield". A reminder of the Snow Ball from middle school. It wasn’t the song he danced to with El, but he let himself drift into that memory. Seeing her in the doorway, nervous and dressed up. Holding her hand. The kiss he’d been dreaming about for a year.
Mike almost fast forwarded through it, but he let himself feel the pain of her absence. Nothing like when he lost her – thought she was dead – but still sharp enough to make his eyes well with tears.
The next song wasn’t much better. "Love Will Tear Us Apart" by one of the first artists Jonathan introduced to Will: Joy Division. Will had raced over to Mike’s after school to show off his new tape, almost incoherent as he babbled about how amazing the song was. Mike initially didn’t understand the appeal – it was sad, slow music. Nothing like the pop artists on the radio. But, watching the almost rapturous way Will was absorbed by the music, Mike found himself aching. He wanted to understand what Will was feeling, to feel it himself. He wanted to be the one to cause Will to feel so elated. So he listened and latched onto the eerie mournfulness of the singer, letting the sound resonate in his chest, and nodded when Will asked if he liked them.
Mike could still feel the warmth of Will’s smile.
Then it was "Waterloo". When Will caught Mike dancing to ABBA, he didn’t laugh – not like Lucas or Dustin might have. Mike swore him to secrecy, embarrassed to be caught with one of Nancy’s tapes when Will was introducing him to “actual” music – cool stuff that Jonathan listened to.
Rather than teasing, Will passed on a modification of some advice Jonathan gave to him.
“It’s okay to like whatever you want. Who cares what anyone else thinks?”
It was easy to agree back then, when they were alone and Will was so earnest and non-judgemental. But he still returned the tape to Nancy’s room and didn’t let on about his enjoyment when Lucas or Dustin were around. El might have understood, the same way Will did, but he never told her – even when she heard the song herself for the first time and lit up with delight.
Then he thought about Max. She’d tease him – for sure. But she’d dance along, singing the lyrics in his face, and goad him into making a bigger fool of himself. She wouldn’t tease about his taste or the fact that he was dancing; instead, she'd get on his case about how he didn’t want to show he enjoyed himself. The fronts that people put up – boys especially – frustrated Max. She had to prove herself over and over, refusing to give up on the things she loved – like skating and video games – just because people told her they were for boys. She had little sympathy for inauthenticity.
Maybe that was why Mike was so caught up in what was going on with her these days. She was hiding, pulling away not just from her friends but from herself – what she wanted, what she enjoyed, who she was. He didn’t want what almost happened to him to happen to her.
“Just being there,” he said aloud, interrupting his own moody contemplation with Eddie’s thoughtful advice.
As the rest of Will’s gift continued playing, Mike lost himself in thoughts of those he almost lost, those he was missing, and those he refused to lose.
Next Part (3/4)
#fanfic#stranger things#madwheeler#platonic madwheeler#mike wheeler#max mayfield#eddie munson#pre-season 4#canon compliant#past character death#friendship#vialana's fic
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