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stevieschrodinger · 1 year

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Eddie goes zero to sixty when he wakes up. He expects to be dead, so the strong smell of disinfectant and boiled hospital food comes as a shock that, at first, he doesn’t believe.

But then the irregular bleating of the heart monitor next to him starts to sink in, the beeps sounding way too fucking fast and that stresses Eddie out even more. He tries to escape out of the bed, gets tangled in tubes and wires, agony burning up his side and through his stomach, practically falls out of the bed when his own legs won’t hold him.

The floor is rock solid and stone cold, and that just ratchets Eddie’s panic further, because now he’s stuck and he can’t escape and there are people – people he doesn't know – touching him, all talking all over each other and it’s so much, too much to handle, the overload -

“Holy shit kid,” a voice Eddie would recognize anywhere, mostly because he’s been warned by that voice so many times about getting caught dealing and carrying and, “Jesus, give him some room a second.”

“I thought you were dead,” Eddie rasps out, voice totally fucked.

“Yeah, well, thought the same about you kid,” Hopper answers, stoic and honest as always.

“I can’t stay here,” Eddie finds his hands twisted up in the material of Hoppers jacket.

Hopper nods, knowingly, “back into bed, give me half an hour.”

Eddie agrees, holds onto that, because the lights are too bright and the noises are all so fucking loud and even the sound of his own breathing is annoying.

“Kid,” Hopper raps on the door frame, and every fucking pair of eyes in the room swivels to him because literally everyone rammed into Max’s room is a kid to Hopper. He narrows it down a bit, looking at Steve, “Munson’s awake.”

Half the people in the room shoot up, Dustin’s fastest despite his fucked up ankle, so Hopper sticks an arm out, wraps him up, stops him even though the kid is screeching and wriggling in his hold, “just Steve, the rest of you stay here.”

There’s a roomful of complaints, but something in Hoppers tone must relay the urgency, because they do obey in the end.

“So, he needs somewhere to go.”

Hopper nods down at Steve, “Owen’s can wrangle it, but it’s got to be somewhere known, somewhere that has the space, somewhere...private.”

Steve gets what Hopper’s laying down, his place is the only place that makes any sense, “yeah, of course.”

Because there’s no question.

Eddie limps across the threshold, most of his weight supported on Steve’s shoulders. They take one look at the mountain of stairs and divert straight to the couch. Steve can see that Eddie’s in pain, that he’s restless, that he can’t settle, “what can I do?”

“Nothing. Nothing. Feel like there’s...fire ants or something, crawling all over, under my skin.”

Steve tuts. Not having a suggestion for that. Eddie’s face contorts again and he’s sweating. The nurse was very fucking clear about the pain meds, and Eddie can’t have any more for another couple of hours at the earliest. Steve doesn’t state that out loud; he’s pretty sure Eddie doesn’t need reminding.

He comes back with a cool sodden towel, feeling helpless, but the second it hits Eddie’s skin Eddie practically screeches and they know that isn’t the answer, so Steve throws it in the laundry.

“I don’t know what to say man, shower? Like, a hot one?”

“Dressings,” Eddie bites back, white knuckled and almost writhing now on the couch.

“Maybe...we should take you back, maybe they can-”

“No. Fuck no,” Eddie’s words bitten out, panicked.

“Okay okay,” Steve surrenders, palms up flat, “what then?”

Eddie’s eyes flick over the back of the couch, he can’t see the stairs from there, there’s a wall in the way, but his expression looks pained just at the thought, “I’ll try anything once.” He tries to make a joke of it, tries to make out that he’s okay, but he’s clearly in fucking agony and Steve has no idea what to do for him so he agrees readily.

Making it up the stairs takes them fully half an hour, Eddie having to wait, panting, on every single step. Steve’s never felt so helpless in his life (excluding that one time Max floated in the cemetery), it’s torture watching Eddie suffer, watching him try and keep in all the pained noises, only to fail miserably.

He manages a half hearted joke about King Steve giving him a sponge bath when they make it to the turn near the top, the wider step on the corner giving Eddie somewhere safe and secure to lean.

Steve doesn’t laugh, “how are you feeling now?”

Eddie swallows, throat clicking dry, “it’s worse. It’s like there’s...like something's under there, moving around,” Eddie draws in a hissed breath, face crumpling, “hurts. So fucking much.”

Steve doesn’t even know what to say to that, so they get moving, and those final four steps are worse than all the others combined. They shuffle through Steve’s bedroom and into the bathroom, and when Steve clicks on the light Eddie makes an agonized noise and Steve clicks it off again immediately.

“S’bright,” Eddie mutters, squinting at the floor, greasy, sweaty hair sticking to his forehead. He looks ill. Washed out. No, gray. He looks like he’s gone gray in the dim light coming through the small bathroom window.

“Okay, okay, no problem,” so Steve turns to get the water going, trying to figure out how the fuck they’re going to do this considering Eddie looks exhausted and half dead already. He hears Eddie make a noise, there's a soft thump, and Steve turns back, concerned.

Eddie’s gone.

He’s just...gone.

His clothes are in a heap on the floor, bloody dressings mixed in, and Steve yells, hopping backward and nearly dragging down the shower curtain, when the pile shifts. Wings emerge. Tails.

Steve recognizes it instantly. It’s a fucking demobat.

“Fuck. Fuck fuck,” Steve backs away, edges his way through the door, thinking of the nail bat in the boot of his car. He usually brings it everywhere with him, when he can, but he was too concerned with getting Eddie into the house to think of it.

He doesn’t take his eyes off the thing as it flops around, trapped in Eddie’s clothes. Steve darts the rest of the way, scouring his room for a weapon and giving up fast; the kitchen, a knife; that would be easiest.

Steve runs for it, closing his bedroom door tight so the thing can’t escape. He runs down the stairs, grabs the biggest knife in the block and then takes the stairs two at a time on the way back up.

Steve opens his bedroom door cautiously, point of the knife sliding through the gap, just in case the thing is flapping around in his bedroom. It’s not, it appears safe.

But Steve knows the danger, he was nearly killed by just one of those things so he isn’t taking any chances. Steve waits a second with the door open...he realizes he can hear it. It’s not making the horrible high pitched screech that he’s used to, it sounds more like...well, it sounds like a whimper. It actually sounds kind of pathetic.

Steve creeps closer, only to find the demobat hopelessly tangled in Eddie’s clothes, it’s struggling only making it worse. Steve stands for a moment, staring. Eddie’s gone...and now that little creature is in Eddie’s clothes.

Eddie. Shit, Steve has a terrible feeling about this, “Eddie?”

Steve creeps a little closer, still pointing with the knife, “Eddie, man, if that’s you, you’ve got to give me something here,” Steve begs desperately. There’s still no response, “oh fuck me, I’m loosing my godamn mind.”

Steve kneels, moving a little closer, “Eddie?”

The Demobat’s strange, worm like head appears from under Eddie’s shirt and sort of...mewls. It’s pathetic, really. The open, rounded mouth in filled with rows of tiny, razor sharp teeth. It’s got four eyes, two above the mouth, and two more set behind that, and they all blink in turn, strange slits opening and closing slowly.

It makes another little noise. “Okay. Okay, lets, try...oh man I am so dumb. Dustin’s never going to let me live this down,” Steve slowly offers the back of his hand to the thing, reasoning that if it bites him, the wound won’t be too debilitating than if he looses a finger or something equally terrible. He waits, watching, poised to drag his hand back at the first sign of danger. He doesn’t need too though, because the demobat potentially formerly known as Eddie, snakes out a too long, thin black tongue, and licks a sticky smear on the back of Steve’s hand.

And that’s all. It sits still, staring up at Steve will all four of it’s beady black eyes, watching expectantly.

“Okay. Okay. I’m going to trust you. But if you bite me I swear to…” Steve mutters to himself as he carefully untangles the bat from the pile of clothing, it’s tails and wings well and truly wrapped up with the material.

It’s not awful. It feels kind of cold, but the skin isn’t like, moist, or anything, it’s very dry and kind of scaly. The wings are more leathery, and the tail is...well, it kind of feels weirdly hollow.

“Okay, I got you Munson. God that’s so weird,” Eddie’s body snakes up Steve’s arm a little way, wings flapping clumsily as he tries to right himself. Steve has to fight his instinct to throw the thing off, the last time a demobat was this close to him it nearly strangled him to death.

Despite climbing all over Steve, Eddie wraps his tail around his arms and chest...but not his neck. Not even close. Kind of like, even in this form, he knows.

Eddie ends up hooking the ‘elbows’ of his wings into Steve’s shirt and just...huddling there. Not doing anything, tail wrapped firmly around Steve’s arm, one wing against Steve’s chest and the other against his back, hugging Steve’s shoulder.

Steve stares at himself, and Eddie, in the mirror, “well, fuck.”

With no idea what the hell he’s supposed to do now, Steve heads to bed. It’s been a bit of a day, and whatever the hell this is can wait until tomorrow. He crawls into bed, carefully lying down. Eddie seems to get it, movements still slow and very clumsy, he shifts completely onto Steve’s chest, sort of walking on the joints of his wings, curling up.

Steve lies there, staring at the ceiling in the dark, “I guess this is...maybe not the weirdest thing to happen?”

Eddie makes a soft trilling noise.

Fuck.

Steve wakes up slowly, very aware of the warm weight on top of him. He blinks, vision filled with a mop of brown curls. Eddie.

Steve is hugging Eddie. Eddie is mostly on top of him. Eddie is very naked under Steve’s hands and his very obvious erection is digging into Steve’s thigh and, “Eddie, you’re people again!”

Eddie lifts his head, squinting, opens his mouth and says, “mrrrrp?”

It’s eerily reminiscent of the noise he’d made last night, as a demobat.

“You’re a dude again, dude.”

Eddie blinks. It seems to take a long time to process before he finally, finally croaks out, “coffee.”

Steve wholeheartedly agrees.

Steve slips out of bed, Eddie either isn’t acknowledging or hasn't noticed his boner situation, so Steve figures there's some sort of bro code here and just ignores it too.

While coffee is brewing, Steve figures his only possible course of action is to call the smartest person he knows. He will never admit that out loud, but luckily Henderson answers on the second ring, like he’s been waiting for Steve to call him.

“Dustin-”

“Can I come see Eddie yet?”

Steve sighs, “I’m great, thanks for asking, so cool of-”

“Steve.”

“Yeah. Yes, come over.”

The little shit doesn’t even say goodbye. He just hangs up.

Steve takes a coffee up to Eddie, who is buck naked and sprawled ass up over Steve’s bed, “okay, Eddie come on, Dustin’s on the way.”

Eddie groans, crawling out of bed, Steve heads over to his wardrobe to dig out something for Eddie to wear so he isn’t obviously staring at all of Eddie’s nakedness. There’s a thump and a, “shit,” that has Steve spinning back around, Eddie sat on his ass on the floor, looking confused.

“You okay?”

“Legs. Apparently you can forget legs really fast.”

It hadn’t occurred to Steve when he woke up, but it does now. All of Eddie is pristine; there’s not a wound, mark, scar bruise, anything on him anywhere. Steve has to step closer, kneeling in front of Eddie to prod his chest, Eddie swats at him, “you’re all healed up.”

Eddie stops swatting at Steve and prods himself instead, “holy shit. I am.”

“Well...that’s a positive, right?”

Eddie hums, and Steve goes back to digging him out a sweater and some sleep pants and boxers. That’ll do for today. Eddie’s a little wobbly when he stands, so Steve hovers in grabbing distance, but Eddie gets dressed without incident.

Steve offers him the coffee from the nightstand, now cool enough to drink. Eddie takes an enthusiastic mouthful and Steve watches as Eddie’s face goes through a series of...something, his mouth obviously full of coffee. His face is definitely doing something. And then Eddie just opens his mouth, “bleaugh,” letting the coffee just...run back into the mug.

And then he hands it back. To Steve. Who takes it reflexively, “I’ll just...I’ll go and get rid of this.”

“Where is he?”

“Okay, okay, firstly, I need you to not freak out.”

“Steve,” Dustin stares at him, “saying that is guaranteed to make anyone freak out.”

“Yep,” Steve agrees, “I mean it though, Eddie is absolutely fine, I swear it.”

“But. There’s a but isn’t there, Steve why is there always a but with-”

“He turned into a demobat last night. Like just, was a bat. And I didn’t know what to do, so we went to sleep, and then this morning he was Eddie again.”

Dustin’s face is a process, before he finally settles on, “are you sure?”

Steve rolls his eyes, “yes, yes, I’m sure. He was Eddie, then bat, the Eddie again. It wasn't complicated, just fucking weird.”

“Right...so where is he?”

Steve opens his bedroom door to find...absolute carnage. His bed has moved, the mattress is off the frame, there’s blankets and pillows strewn everywhere, feathers swirling in the air.

“Eddie?”

Eddie pops up on the other side of the bed, shirtless and frantic looking, “I didn’t, I didn’t do anything, it just, it just...it just exploded.”

Steve stares, the feathers settling. Eddie’s actually naked again and appears to be building some sort of fort on the floor of Steve’s bedroom, Steve blinks, “the pillow doesn’t matter Eddie.”

Eddie nods decisively, “good.” Then, after a moments thought, “do you have more?” And then he’s back on his hands and knees rearranging his fort, like a feral racoon or something.

“Dustin’s here, do you want to maybe come and talk to him?”

“It’s the scientific method Steve!”

“We are not throwing anyone off a roof, anywhere, any time, ever.”

They both turn back to Eddie, watching as he eats another spoon of raspberry jelly straight out of the jar.

“You got any ketchup?” Dustin asks, going back to food again.

“That won’t prove either theory, ketchup is red and sweet.”

Dustin turns to him, “Steve, that is possibly the most intelligent thing you’ve ever said to me.”

Steve’s ready to slap the little shit at this point, but Dustin’s face is earnest. Apparently Dustin actually means what he just said. Like, sincerely.

So Steve lets it go, and Dustin suggests, “we need something sweet but not red, and something red but not sweet.”

“We should go to the store,” Steve adds, then stares at Eddie for a minute longer; he’s basically fucking the neck of the jar with his tongue, “I’ll call Nancy to go to the store for us,” Steve adjusts.

Dustin nods, turning the page of his notebook.

Nancy drops grocery bags on the counter while Robin hops up next to her, “so, I thought we could make red jello and add a bunch of salt or something, I got some soup for him to try, some more jelly just in case, and some more ketchup since you said he really likes that. Two tubs of salsa…”

Steve rummages in the bag next to her, when Eddie pops up next to him, Steve hadn’t even heard him come into the kitchen. Eddie wedges himself right in there, pushing Steve back with a hand and then...hisses. Hisses at Nancy. Like, makes a hissing noise and bears his teeth. Steve just moves, lets Eddie push him back, while Nancy watches, wide eyes and surprised.

She takes a few Steps back herself, closer to Robin, and tries a tentative, “Eddie?”

He just hisses again, before snapping, “mine!” at her.

And then he disappears, there’s a light thump on the kitchen floor. Everyone watches as bat Eddie extricates himself from his clothes, movements much better this time around. He half climbs and half flaps his way up Steve’s body, until he gets to around waist height and Steve grabs at the thickest part of Eddie’s body to help him out. Eddie climbs the rest of the way, draping himself around the back of Steve’s neck, tail wrapped under one armpit, Eddie standing on his wing joints on the opposite shoulder. He hisses at Nancy again.

“Holy shit,” Nancy says.

Dustin is frantically scribbling in his notebook.

Robin, once she’d got over the shock of Eddie’s transformation, laughed and laughed and laughed. Even Nancy was smirking at them. The way Steve was absently stroking over Eddie to keep him mollified, and that Nancy couldn’t come within ten feet of them without Eddie getting all riled up again.

“So, you and Eddie huh.”

Steve just rolls his eyes.

“He’s feeling plenty threatened by Nance,” Dustin adds, really, really, unhelpfully.

“Probably because they were a thing,” Robin speculates.

“So you and Eddie are like, dating?” Dustin asks, and whatever Steve’s face does makes Robin laugh and laugh and laugh again.

Eddie actually manages a graceful glide off Steve’s shoulder and onto the nest/fort/thing Eddie had constructed earlier. Steve was going to try and tidy it before bed...but from the way Eddie is wing walking across it, pathetically dragging the edge of a pillow in his tiny mouth, Steve guesses that he’s not.

It’s also been a bit of a day, and he can’t really be bothered.

He climbs into bed, Eddie flapping out of the way and then climbing his way carefully up onto Steve’s chest.

This is my life now, Steve thinks, as he stares at the ceiling.

And then gets winded, when the very small demobat lying on his chest is suddenly a full sized man again. Eddie nearly headbutts Steve in the chin and Steve rolls over to dump him off, panicked and with the breath knocked out of him. Eddie makes a pathetic and somehow accusatory trilling noise, like this turn of events is all Steve’s fault, before he rolls over and flops over Steve again.

Apparently, cuddling is a thing they do.

Eddie makes a noise like a purr when Steve rubs his hand up and down the naked skin of Eddie’s back.

So, yeah, this is Steve’s life now.

#stranger things #eddie munson #creature eddie munson #magic eddie munson #steve harrington #long suffering steve harrington #steve and dustin #dustin henderson #hopper to the rescue #bat eddie munson #steddie #steddie headcanon #stranger things headers #nancy and robin

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frostandflamesfanfic · 2 years

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You're Not - (Steve Harrington x Reader)

You're Not (Rated T)

Request?: No

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Reader

Word Count: 4.5k (Hell yeah, we back, baby!)

Warnings: Slight language, Jason Carver being a bit of an ass, Steve being hard on himself, Reader could be implied Hopper if you squint but up to you!

Summary: Inspired by an episode of Love Daily on Netflix (episode: Hit); The year is 1985, you're on a school field trip to cheer on Hawkins High at the championship game before spring break. When the game doesn't pan out as expected, you're even more surprised to discover the one and only Steve Harrington in only his underwear at your hotel room after being locked out by his teammates. What happens when the two of you have a little heart to heart? (reposting because Tumblr ate it)

You hummed to yourself as you walked through the halls of the hotel. Your Walkman was secured at your hip and the well-worn pads were adjusted against your ears. The soft tones of Cyndi Lauper filled your senses, a ghost of a smile tugging at your lips. Chicago was always a bustling city, people pushing past each other in the streets, cars honking aggressively at the chaotic levels of traffic. It was quite the adjustment from your home in small-town Hawkins. All the hustle and bustle made you glad you were only in the city for one more night.

Yet as you looked through the window of the eighth floor, it just seemed…different. Magical, even. From here, the pedestrians and automobiles were tiny, merely blinking lights and waves of brightly coloured clothing. Their presence seemed almost meaningless as you watched them navigate through the streets and sidewalks with a rhythmic pace.

Why your school had decided to turn the basketball team’s championship journey into a field trip, you had no idea. Something about school spirit, supporting physical education, rah rah sis boom bah. The game itself had really been a bit of a let down, but that wasn’t saying much since you spent most of it reading. The cheers and groans from the crowd were enough of an indication for you of the team’s current status. You had only looked up from your fantasy world one time- the minute Steve “the Hair” Harrington had attempted to make one final shot for the team…

…and missed.

It had been a quiet rest of the day after that. There were no parties, no celebrations which would consist of unsupervised teenagers getting stupid drunk regardless of the chaperones on the trip. Everyone had been so sure that 1985 was going to be the year, the time small-town Hawkins would be put on the map for something positive. But it didn’t happen. After the last two years, nothing seemed to go right for your hometown. A kid disappearing, dying, then coming back to life….one of your best friends mysteriously dying from a gas leak… now the town had lost its one shot of making a positive headline.

A sigh escaped your lips as you fumbled with the room key in your front pocket. You knew you had jammed it into your pants earlier, but it now seemed to have disappeared. There was a thud to your side as another room door slammed. You turned to look and see King Steve himself talking with a few of his teammates. The music coming from your Walkman made it difficult to make out what they were saying, but judging from Steve’s lack of pajamas and frantic hands, it wasn’t the greatest conversation.

Your fingers came into contact with cold metal in your pocket and you grinned as your room key was secure in your palm. You unlocked the door without hesitation and immediately began your nightly routine. As you were preparing to change, you realized you had forgotten to place the room service tray you had requested that morning back outside to be picked up. When you opened the door to set it aside, you were surprised to come face to hand with Steve Harrington.

The boy before you held a sheepish grin on his face, the surprise evident in his eyes. “Oh, uh,” he said, hand awkwardly scratching at the back of his neck. “My uh, my teammates thought it would be a great idea to lock me out. Would I be able to borrow a towel or something?”

It took a few minutes to realize Steve was actually talking to you. “Sorry, what?”

Steve sighed, a few stray pieces of hair falling into his eyes. “My teammates locked me out of our room,” he explained again. “Do you have a towel I can borrow so I don’t break any laws here?”

You glanced behind you into your room. Your roommate had yet to come back in for the night; they had mentioned trying a new fake id at the bar down the street. Whether or not they’d be successful was yet to be seen, but as long as you weren’t on the hook for it, it wasn’t your problem to worry about. They had invited you to tag along, but you had declined in favor of taking in the city sights from your room. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed a large t-shirt stuck out of their duffle bag – presumably their boyfriend, who was also on the team.

“How about I do you one better?” you asked as you swiped the fabric and held it out to him.

There was a fleeting appearance of relief etched across Steve’s features as he grasped the shirt from your hands. In the process, you also managed to pick up one of your old zip-up hoodies for him as well. Your fingers touched for a moment in the process and you tried to ignore the slight tingle as it wormed its way under your nails. The two of you had hardly spoken over the last four years – why you would even want to try and start a conversation didn’t make much sense to you either. Yet here you were, standing in your hotel room with Steve Harrington tugging on an old band t-shirt of your roommate’s.

“So, uh,” he said as he looked around your room. “You usually have your own room on these types of field trips?”

You scoffed. “Oh yeah. I always make sure to reserve my room in advance. Drives the chaperones insane,” you said with a shake of your head. “No, I, uh, I always seem to end up with roommates that think it’s cooler to go get drunk than stay in and read.”

Steve quirked an eyebrow, obviously amused. You could practically feel the flush as it crept its way up your neck onto your cheeks.

“Yeah, yeah, okay.” You tried to hide your embarrassment by flopping on your bed and grabbing a pillow. “I hear it now, Snoresville.”

“No, no. I think it’s…cute.”

“Uh, thanks?” Cute. Did Steve Harrington– King Steve– just call you cute? You had to be hearing things at this point. In an attempt to cause a distraction, you stood up and adjusted the dial on the small television positioned in the hotel room. Your hand nervously reached to the back of your neck to scratch away the awkward sensation prickling through you. “Make yourself comfortable, seeing as your roommates probably aren’t going to let you back in.”

“What about your roommate?” Steve gently perched on the edge of the other bed. He seemed nervous, something you’ve never seen him be throughout your time in high school. In fact, everything about this version of Steve seemed different compared to the King Steve everyone used to worship. The roles were reversed now. Instead of being cocky and confident as all hell, this Steve was…almost shy and didn’t know how to approach you.

“They probably won’t be coming back tonight,” you said with a wave of your hand, pulling the blankets on your mattress around your form. “They don’t really care what I do anyway.”

“We could give ‘em something to talk about. Ya know, like, putting something on the doorknob…” Steve’s toothy grin sent butterflies shooting around your stomach.

You shook your head. “As tempting as that offer is, they’ll probably be way too invested in what’s-his-face…uh, Walter? Yeah, I think his name was Walter-”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Walter Conners?” Steve actually let out a sound of disgust when you nodded. “God, that jackass? Jesus, people’s standards have really gone down.”

“What can we say, Harrington?” you teased. “The rest of the world didn’t know what to do with you off the market with that Wheeler chick last semester.”

The look on Steve’s face made you want to retract your comment immediately. It was almost as if grey storm clouds hung over his head. He shifted in his spot on the mattress and his mouth twitched into a deep seated frown. His shoulders slumped, causing his entire body to sag forward. “Yeah, well everyone seems to be singing a different tune nowadays after I got my ass dumped.”

You’re not sure what compelled you to do so, but you squirmed out of your makeshift blanket burrito to reach over and pat his leg gently. “Hey, Steve,” you tried. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry. Nobody deserves to be dumped. Unless you’re a self absorbed asshole, which honestly I kind of thought you were for a bit with all of the girls you dated early in high school…I’m really not helping, am I?”

“It’s fine,” Steve’s eyes locked onto your hand, which was still positioned on his leg. Your thumb was absentmindedly rubbing circles into his skin. What you didn’t know was how the two of you were both attempting to hide your nerves from the unexpected contact. “I’m used to it by now, everyone thinkin’ that I’m an asshole.”

You shook your head. “No, no, Steve, that’s not what I meant.” Your grip on his leg tightened gently. “It’s just– god, it’s kind of sad when you think about it– but now you kinda understand what it’s like to be invisible; to not have anyone see you or want to be around you.”

“Is that how you felt?” Steve’s chocolate brown eyes locked on yours. He looked as though he was searching for something in your gaze. His eyes were almost pleading, begging for your defenses to come down ever so slightly. “Did no one really ever see you?”

“...Maybe.” You tried your best to avoid his gaze, but Steve was relentless. He reached over and tilted your chin up with two of his fingers, forcing you to stare back at him.

“Hey,” he said softly, holding out his other hand. “My name’s Steve Harrington. I’m an idiot senior who doesn’t have the best observational skills and makes the absolute worst decisions about women. Who are you?”

You didn’t grasp his hand at first, but when you did, you couldn’t look at him directly as you spoke your name. “Everything else, though. That…that’s a little complicated, I guess.” A period of awkward silence hung in the air between you for a few moments. It wasn’t a stifling silence. In fact, it was almost comfortable sitting across from Steve in the hotel room. You didn’t feel the urge to hide behind something like you usually did when you saw him in the halls. It was…nice.

“Do you want to go get a milkshake?” you asked out of nowhere. “I saw a diner a couple streets over. Might give us a taste of home?”

“Uh,” Steve looked down pointedly at his attire. “I mean, I would. But I’m kind of in my underwear here.”

A smirk wormed its way against your lips. “I might have an idea.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

As your hand reached up to the wooden exterior of the hotel room door, Steve reached over to gently grip your wrist. A sigh escaped him and he shook his head. “This is a bad idea,” he muttered. “It’s not going to work.”

You rolled your eyes before using your other hand to loosen his grip. “Relax, Harrington,” you replied. “Everything is going to be fine.” Without another word, you shoved him out of sight and knocked on the door.

Jason Carver, Hawkins High’s junior star player, answered the door. He was dressed in nothing but a pair of plaid pajama pants, the barely-there outline of abs visible. A suave grin practically split his face in two as he leaned forward. “Well, well, well,” he drawled out, eyes glancing up and down your form. “Look who we have here. Come to console us on our loss, sweetheart?”

As you pushed down the gag that threatened an encore of the night’s crappy Chinese takeout, you forced yourself to bat your eyelashes. “You’ll get ‘em next time, Tigers,” you attempted to alter your voice into a purr. Steve tried to muffle his choked laughter, but you heard him. Feeling a little daring, you raised your right arm and walked your fingers along Jason’s bare chest. “Do it for us little guys, yeah?”

“For you, sweetheart,” Jason said with a wink and a shiver, “anything.” He adjusted himself against the door. “How about I take you down the street to that pizza place? Grab a late night slice on me? It’s the least I can do for my, I mean our, biggest fan.”

“Oh, you see, I would, but I kind of already have plans.”

That seemed to ruffle the younger boy’s feathers. A frown tugged at his lips and he glanced at you in shock. “Oh really?” he asked. “With who?”

“Me, asshole.” Steve moved faster than you thought possible. He quickly shoved Jason out of the door frame before he raced toward his luggage in the back of the room, the young player on his tail. It was the last you saw of him for a few moments as the door slammed shut. You tapped your foot anxiously as you waited, hoping Steve hadn’t been right and he wouldn’t be murdered the second he stepped inside. The next time you saw him, he had grabbed your wrist and the two of you bolted down the hallway to the elevator. You didn’t stop to catch your breath until long after the elevator doors had shut and you were on your way to the lobby.

“It’ll take ‘em a while to catch us,” Steve remarked, still panting from the run. “That is, if they even actually care.”

It was around this time you were able to take in Steve’s new attire. He was wearing a red sweater paired with a pair of Levi’s and some beat up converse. It was simple and far from the preppy school boy you had known since the start of senior year. Yet it just seemed so Steve. A smile flickered across your features, disappearing quickly as soon as you realized what you were doing. Unfortunately, it wasn’t fast enough to escape Steve’s surprisingly observant gaze.

“What made you so happy?” he teased as you made your way out of the elevator and through the lobby. “Did seeing Jason Carver shirtless really get you hot and bothered?”

“What? No! Ew, god no,” you exclaimed far too quickly. “I just…can’t believe that actually worked.”

Steve smiled at you. It was all teeth, bright and shiny. The way his attention was solely on you sent a shiver down your spine. Sure, you’d been on dates with people before, but even those didn’t feel as intimate as walking through the streets of Chicago with Steve. It just felt normal, like this was just a typical instance to happen between the two of you. You had to admit it was nice. The thought of someone wanting to spend time with you was surprising, but not unwelcome.

You had gotten so lost in thought, you didn’t see a car running a red light as the two of you crossed the street. In an instant, Steve had wrapped his arms around your waist and spun you so he was shielding you from any impact. The car swerved around him, shouting something out the window, but all you could focus on was the heavy thumping of Steve’s heart against your back.

“You okay?” he breathed into your ear, tone a little shaky from the previous shock. “Are you hurt? Are you okay?!”

“Steve,” you managed to choke out as you turned in his tight embrace to face him. “I’m okay. I promise.” You pressed a cold hand against his warm cheek to comfort him. “Thanks for the save there.”

That seemed to calm him down. The boy before you nodded and hesitated as he let you go, running his fingers through his hair as you finished crossing the street to the diner. “Jesus, I guess people don’t understand the importance of road signs here,” he remarked with a shake of his head.

“Like you have any regard for those back in Hawkins.” You lifted an eyebrow in challenge. “I have it on good authority that you have accrued at least three speeding tickets in the last year.”

Steve stopped in his tracks. “And how do you know that?”

“My dad’s a cop at Hawkins PD.”

“Huh.” The boy reached over you to pull open the door to the diner. You both couldn’t help the smiles that plastered on your faces as you heard the bell signal your arrivals. It sounded like home. “Guess we’ll add that to the list of things I didn’t know about you.”

When you finally sat down and placed your order, Steve propped his elbows up onto the table, chin resting in his hands. His gaze was locked onto yours yet again, searching for something you couldn’t quite grasp. “So what’s your story?” his voice sounded muffled by his head position.

“What’s yours?” You countered quickly, praying that he’d get too swept up in his own story and barely leave time for you to get into your own.

The former highschool heartthrob shrugged nonchalantly. “No parents, big house,” he said. “Just a loser kid who thought he could take on the world but ended up screwing his chances at having a shot at doing some good out of Hawkins because he didn’t realize there’s more to life than parties and popularity.”

You winced. “You’re not a loser, Steve.”

“Oh, really?” Steve stiffened at your words. “If I’m not a loser, then what do you call costing the team a championship game? Or completely missing out on hanging out with a really cool person during high school because I was too damn hung up on popularity contests and being accepted by assholes like Tommy and Carol?”

“So what if you missed the shot, Steve? It’s just a basketball game-”

“Yeah, my last one at Hawkins.” He ran a hand over his face. “I don’t know what I’m going to do now. I didn’t get accepted into college, not even tech. This was my last chance to really make something of myself before we moved onto real life with jobs and stuff.”

You chuckled. “Jobs and stuff…”

The two of you halted your conversation as the waitress delivered your milkshakes: chocolate for you, strawberry for Steve. As you began to slurp down the icy sweet treat, Steve lifted his index finger toward you. “You still never answered my question,” he said. “What’s your story?”

After taking a long sip of your shake, you pause to collect your thoughts. “Well, my dad and I moved to Hawkins a few years ago. He grew up here, actually. Was a Hawkins High grad back in the day.” You lifted your milkshake in the air as though in mock toast. “We lived in New York before that,” you explained. “It was nice. Just the four of us-”

“Four?” Steve interrupted, letting his curiosity get the better of him. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

You nodded with another sip of your milkshake. “It’s fine,” you replied with a shrug. “Yeah, four. My mom, my dad, my sister, and, well, me.”

“How come your mom and sister didn’t come to Hawkins?”

The straw in your milkshake began to hit the bottom of the glass in a familiar pattern as you stabbed it up and down. This was always the hard part. You never told anyone about it and the fact that you were telling Steve of all people was even more mind boggling. “After my sister died, my uh, my parents decided to split up,” you continued, a lump in your throat. “My mom offered to let me stay with her in New York, but…”

“But you came here,” Steve finished for you. His eyes softened as he took in your awkward adjustments in the seat. Without thinking, he placed his directly on yours. You glanced up at him in slight surprise. “Why?”

“Uh, honestly?” You shook your head. “I really don’t know. I think it was just the memories, you know? The thought of staying in that house after everything that happened, seeing my sister’s room so empty… I think I just needed to get away from it all, clear my head.”

“Do you think you’ll ever go back?”

You know Steve’s question was meant to be innocent enough, but you couldn’t help but tense at it. The truth was, you had considered going back to New York to continue your studies. You had even gone as far as to talk to your dad about the whole thing. When college applications rolled around, though, you found yourself staring blankly at the questions on the page. It was an endless cycle that lasted long after the application deadlines.

“It, uh,” you stammered. “It was the plan. But, uh, life has a funny way of screwing with you, as I’m sure you know by now.”

“Oh.”

You nodded in agreement. “Guess we’re both stuck in the small town world for a bit longer, huh?”

Steve chuckled into his glass. “That might not be such a bad thing,” he murmured. “Especially now that we both have some pretty decent company.”

The two of you continued to make small talk for the rest of the evening. It was during this time you learned that you two had quite a few things in common. Steve’s always wanted to visit the beaches of California and you’ve wanted to travel via the cable cars in San Francisco. You both wanted to have a dog at some point when you moved out on your own, with another one later on down the road (“they’d get lonely!” Steve had argued). You had ordered refills of your shakes and a plate of fries to share to keep your energy up. Needless to say, Steve was rather appalled by your ingenious idea to replace ketchup for a much sweeter alternative.

“How dare you commit such a sin to fried potatoes?” he exclaimed, hand clutched to his chest in mock betrayal.

“Hey!!” You waved a chocolate ice cream coated fry in his direction. “I happen to know that this is a well respected delicacy in the streets of New York. So sorry your small town palate isn’t as refined. Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it, Harrington.”

Steve rolled his eyes and begrudgingly lifted one of his own fries up to your glass. “Well, if you insist I must partake in this blasphemy,” he replied as he gathered some of the shake on the potato, “then how can I refuse?”

You grinned as you watched his expression morph after taking a bite. A small smile threatened to spill out onto his lips, but you could tell he was fighting it. “See? Not that bad, is it, Hawkins?”

Steve sighed and tilted his head side to side. “Okay fine,” he relented. “Not too bad, New York.”

Just as you were about to respond, your eyes locked onto the clock on the wall. 8:45. Fifteen minutes until curfew. “Shit,” you swore under your breath, slamming down the money to cover the bill. “We gotta go.”

Steve followed your glance to the time and his eyes widened. “Come on,” he said. “I’ll race you back. Last one there has to pay for milkshakes back at Hawkins.”

The two of you practically skidded to a halt in the hotel lobby at precisely 8:56. As Steve guided you into the elevator, you were once again very much aware of both of your heavy breathing in the small enclosed space. Steve leaned against the wall, hands shoved deep into his pockets as he tried to catch his breath. “You know, for what it’s worth,” he said, “I’m almost glad we lost that game. I had a really great time with you tonight.”

You smiled at him with a nod. “So did I. You’re not so bad, Harrington.”

The elevator chimed before Steve could respond, causing him to take your hand and lead you to your hotel room door like a proper gentleman. The comfortable, yet awkward, silence made its final return for the evening as the two of you locked eyes at the door frame. Steve opened his mouth to say something, but you were both startled by a raised voice echoing through the halls.

“HARRINGTON!” Coach Davis, who was also one of the chaperones, exclaimed as he neared the two of you in the hall. “Get back to your room immediately. Do you not know it’s past curfew?”

“Very well aware of it, Coach,” he responded coolly. “I’ll be right there.”

As the Coach waited impatiently, Steve turned his attention back to you. He leaned closer to your ear before he whispered, “for the record, you were never fully invisible to me.” Without another word, he pressed a gentle kiss to your cheek and made his way back to his room.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The next morning, as you opened the door to your hotel room, you noticed a familiar yellow material hanging from the handle. It was the hoodie you had lended Steve the night before. A smile on your face, you slipped the garment over your shoulders and shoved your Walkman into one of the pockets before you began your trek through the hallway. You passed by Steve’s shared room with Jason, half-expecting to see him step out with his suitcase in tow. Yet, the room was empty, save for the strewn about bedsheets and pillows on the floor.

A twinge of sadness tugged at your heart, but you did your best to pay it no mind as you made your way to the hotel lobby for breakfast. You couldn’t see Steve anywhere in the hotel that morning. He must have left with the rest of the team before the breakfast service. While you picked at your half-stale blueberry muffin, your mind wandered back to the boy you adventured with the previous evening. You could still feel the warm tingling sensation his surprisingly soft lips left against your cheek, even though it happened nearly twelve hours ago. Hawkins was a small town and there were still a few weeks left in the semester before graduation, so you knew there was a likely chance you’d bump into each other again. You were just surprised to find yourself hoping that things wouldn’t revert back to the way they were.

After boarding the bus, you decided to reach into your pocket for your Walkman. As you pulled out the heavy device with its headphones, your fingers brushed up against something unfamiliar. It was soft, but it wasn’t the material of the pocket. Brow knit in confusion, you placed the Walkman to the side and reached back into the pocket to pull out a wadded up napkin. You carefully smoothed the paper out on your leg and were greeted by the logo of the diner from last night. There was a smudge of dark ink on one side, which, when you flipped it over, revealed the messy scrawling of a phone number alongside a message:

If you ever want to stop feeling invisible, just give me a call. 555 7535

Milkshakes are on me this time.

-Steve

====================

Author's Note: Hello! Hello, hi, hey! I'm finally (mainly) back on Tumblr! This fic has taken me about a week to sit down and actually finish. It was a bit of a self indulgent task, but I enjoyed writing it so much once I finally got into the groove of things. Massive kudos to @bakerstreethound for cheering me on into the late hours of the morning today so I could finally have something new to post on my blog.

So how are we feeling about Steve Harrington making an appearance on the blog now? I promise I'll try my best to get back to my other fics, but this is apparently what my brain cell wanted to produce for you all to read. If you liked this fic, please make sure to leave a comment and reblog. Likes are amazing and warm my heart, but I really want to make sure Tumblr doesn't eat my posts after being away for so long. Anything I can get to keep this page afloat is much appreciated <3

Until next time, my lovely little sparks!

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