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steddiehyperfixation · 1 year

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accidental eavesdropping (steddie ficlet)

based on this post by @imjust-that-shy. i hope i did this vision justice <3

The doors to the bathroom burst open, and - on some pure, inexplicable instinct and with nearly inhuman speed - Eddie darts back into the stall he'd just been about to come out of and leaps to perch on top of the toilet seat, crouched there like some sort of creature.

He hears the sound of retching and the stench of vomit fills the air. He holds his breath, wrinkling his nose and trying to imagine what possible context could be behind Steve Harrington and Robin Buckley bursting in here together to puke their guts out. Eddie knows the two of them work together, he’s seen them sharing shifts at Scoops Ahoy when he's walked by. (Not that he often intentionally passes by the ice cream parlor and slows down just to catch a glimpse of Steve or anything… Although who could really blame him if he did? Like, come on, Steve in that uniform? Hello, sailor.) His mind is busy spinning stories of possible explanations, ranging from spoiled ice cream to sneaking alcohol and getting too drunk during their break.

Eddie's leaning towards the 'drinking on the job' explanation, especially when the retching finally ceases and Robin says something about the room no longer spinning. Those little rebels, Eddie thinks approvingly.

“When’s the last time you, uh…peed your pants,” Steve is asking Robin now, in response to her telling him in a Russian accent to interrogate her.

Eddie curls over his knees, tilting his head to try to peer through the gap between the stalls and the floor to put an image to his eavesdropping. Might as well, he’s kind of stuck here and there’s really not much else he can do right now. He can see Steve’s legs, one bent and the other stretched out in front of him, and Robin in the stall past him laying on the floor with her legs up against the stall wall as she answers, “Today…”

“What?” Steve questions.

“When the Russian doctor took out the bone saw!” Robin says.

Okay…what? Russian doctors and bone saws? Eddie’s now thoroughly intrigued, if a little (okay, a lot) confused. Maybe they’re talking about a movie they watched or something.

Steve’s legs shake with his laughter. “Oh my god.”

“It was just a little bit, though.” Robin pinches her fingers together as she twists her body in Steve’s direction while he laughs again and mutters that whatever it is they took is still in her system. She pushes her feet off the stall and slides to sit against the opposite wall. Eddie can only see her legs now. “Okay, my turn. Have you…ever been in love?”

Steve answers that he has, with Nancy, and makes a sound mimicking an explosion. Eddie remembers that, remembers seeing Steve and Nancy being all touchy and cute in the hallways at school while he was trying his damndest to convince himself that he absolutely definitely did not wish he was in Nancy’s place. It didn’t work very well. And it’s not working very well now either as Steve starts to go on about some new girl he likes now instead - some girl who’s funny and smart and can crack secret Russian codes (okay, seriously, what is it with these two and Russians?) and oh shit, he’s talking about Robin.

Eddie very suddenly feels like he should not be here listening to this, eavesdropping on Steve confessing his feelings for someone. Not only is that, like, a private and personal thing, but also what if Robin likes him back and they start kissing or something right here in this bathroom where Eddie has to sit here and listen to it and that would just be horrible for him for so many reasons and- Eddie’s getting ahead of himself. Robin hasn’t even said anything yet, and her knees are pulled up to her chest and her voice shakes when she confirms she’s still alive after Steve asks if she’s OD’d there in the silence and she uncurls with a deep sigh. All signs that she doesn’t actually like Steve back.

Eddie watches as Steve shifts and slides under the stall into Robin’s, and catches sight of the nasty bruise marring nearly half of Steve’s otherwise beautiful face as he does so. Now concern has been added to the list of emotions this eavesdropping experience has rollercoastered him through so far. The bruise looks fairly fresh and Eddie can’t help but wonder what the hell gave Steve a black eye like that and if he’s okay.

After a brief spiral of concern for Steve’s face, Eddie tunes back into reality to find himself staring at Steve’s ass as Steve now sits with his back against the stall wall opposite Robin. Eddie blinks, expands his tunnel vision to include Steve’s lower back and Robin’s legs which are also visible beneath the gap in the stalls.

“It’s not because I had a crush on you,” Robin is saying. “It’s because…she wouldn’t stop staring at you.”

“Mrs. Click?” Steve sounds confused.

“Tammy Thompson,” Robin clarifies. “I wanted her to look at me.”

Oh. Eddie should really not be listening to this. Robin is trying to come out to Steve, trying to share something deeply personal and vulnerable with him and only him, not knowing that she’s outing herself to an eavesdropping near-stranger as well. Eddie feels violating and intruding. He can’t imagine how he would feel if he found out someone he barely knew had been secretly listening in on him coming out - probably not great, probably terrified. This is something he shouldn’t know, not like this.

“But Tammy Thompson’s a girl,” Steve says, his tone unreadable, and Eddie’s heart nearly stops, sure his own anticipatory anxiety is likely only just a fraction of what Robin must be feeling right now.

“Steve…”

“Yeah?” A pause. “Oh,” Steve’s voice goes soft. “Oh… Holy shit.”

“Yeah,” Robin sighs. Eddie can see her hands nervously rubbing at her shins. “Holy shit.”

Steve is silent for a few painfully long moments. Eddie’s hands curl nervously around his own shins. Is Steve going to be homophobic? Should Eddie be worried for Robin now?

“Steve, did you OD over there?” Robin asks, trying to be light but Eddie can hear the anxiety in her voice.

“No, I just, uh- just thinking,” Steve responds.

“Okay…” Robin’s voice is barely audible. Eddie is holding his breath.

“I mean, yeah,” Steve says finally, “Tammy Thompson’s cute and all, but the only reason I never gave her the time of day was because I was too busy staring at Eddie Munson.”

The aforementioned Eddie Munson releases the breath he’d been holding with an involuntary squeak and claps a hand over his mouth. Thankfully, neither of them heard him over the sound of Robin shouting. “What?! Eddie Munson?! You liked Eddie Munson?” she squawks, voicing Eddie’s own stunned thoughts perfectly.

“Yeah,” Steve confirms casually, completely unaware that he's throwing an eavesdropping Eddie into an absolute crisis right now. There's a soft thudding sound like Steve's hitting the back of his head against the stall wall. His voice gets kind of wistful, almost dreamy, as he says, “His rings, man. Rings and tattoos…and that long hair and those chains he'd wear… Honestly just his whole punk aesthetic thing had me mesmerized.”

“Pretty sure he's metal, not punk,” Robin corrects him.

Thanks, Robin. Also, what the fuck is happening right now?

“Whatever. Still hot as hell,” Steve says.

Eddie squeaks again and practically shoves his whole fist in his mouth to keep himself from making any more noise, his teeth knocking against his rings. The rings Steve likes, apparently. He feels like he's going to pass out, his heart beating so erratically it's making him lightheaded. King Steve - the popular, preppy, stupid, gorgeous, dumb jock Eddie's been crushing on since forever - just called him hot????

“Did you hear that?” Robin asks suddenly, voice low and cautious.

Shit.

“Is anyone else in here?” Steve calls out.

Fuck.

Eddie bites down hard on his knuckles and holds his breath, going impossibly still. If they get up and search the bathroom, then he’s about to be caught red handed, crouched on top of a toilet seat with his fist in his mouth and his face flushed scarlet, eavesdropping on their private conversation about secret Russians and gay crushes. Eddie contemplates falling into the toilet and attempting to flush himself down it. Every god imaginable is receiving a silent prayer from him right now as he watches apprehensively through the gaps in the stall. One of those gods must've heard and taken pity on this poor gay disaster of a man crouched like a goblin in a bathroom stall, because after a few horrible seconds of silence, all Steve does is lean down to peer beneath the stalls for a moment before sitting back up and saying, “Looks empty. I think the drugs are making us hear things.”

“Yeah, probably,” Robin says. Then she giggles, knocking her leg against Steve’s. “I still can’t believe you were into Eddie.”

Steve flicks Robin’s knee. “I can’t believe you were into Tammy.”

“What’s wrong with Tammy?!” Robin protests.

“What’s wrong with Eddie?” Steve counters. “At least he’s actually got talent. Tammy’s a total dud - she wants to be a singer and shit but she can’t even hold a tune.”

Eddie is going to die. He is actually going to die right here, right now, because Steve Harrington thinks he’s hot and talented. And then Steve starts mimicking Tammy, singing Total Eclipse of the Heart in a ridiculously goofy voice, and now Eddie is going to die because he finds that so stupidly endearing and adorable. Maybe he should just flush himself down the toilet, save himself from this hopelessly pathetic crush of his. Instead, he’s saved by the bathroom doors bursting open again and a new voice shouting at them, “Okay. What the hell?!”

Steve and Robin collapse into a fit of giggles before being dragged to their feet by the newcomers and led out of the bathroom, leaving Eddie alone and reeling and struggling to process literally everything he’s just overheard. He finally hops down from his toilet perch and exits the stall like he’s in a daze. He’s not sure how long he had been camped out in there - probably only about ten minutes - but it felt like hours, so long that the world outside of that single bathroom stall almost feels foreign and unfamiliar now.

Eddie grips the bathroom sink and stares at his flustered reflection in the mirror and whispers to himself, “What the actual fuck?”

---

Later, years later, only after he and Steve are already dating, Eddie tells him all about this experience, and Steve laughs so hard he nearly cries.

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devondespresso · 5 months

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(found this bad boy in my drafts and honestly i loved reading it again so we're gonna post it. wahoo)

my personal canon for post-starcourt stobin is that they're actually inseparable for the first month or so

im talking steve taken to the hospital for his injuries and the staff having to force them apart and call security. im talking they have to drag robin kicking and screaming to a different room because last time Steve left her sight he was dragged back lifeless and presumably dead (i firmly believe they intentionally used physical torture for steve and to use his condition for psychological torture for robin)

and steve waking up half-present in a cold plain room alone? might as well be back in the bunker. and if theres doctors trying to run tests and examine his wounds? might as well be Russian soldiers standing over him and touching his injuries. hurting him again. possibly planning to hurt Robin next.

and now hospital staff are trying to deal with two screaming desperate teenagers who keep begging for the other in between rambles of nonsense and they can't run tests or do their jobs or even get answers from them because all these two seem to care about is the other teen

so they don't really have any practical choices other than moving them to a combined room. and they still freak out every now and then but having the other in the room keeps these outbursts much shorter and doctors are able to actually run tests and help these kids as long as they're close together. And when Robins blood tests and everything come back ok and shes able to be discharged, shes given special permission to stay in the room at all times

and the two little kids that came in with them? they're not exactly freaking out quite like the teens but they're certainly not making things easy either. Ericas testing the willpower of any doctor or nurse she can speak to and both kids stay as close as they can at all times and refuse to leave the hospital. visiting hours over? they're in the waiting room, even convinced a couple to move so they can have seats closest to the hall that teens room is in. try to call their parents? good luck getting a full name or number out of them. once their parents do come get them they're showing back up in an hour, bikes lodged in the bike rack and back in their seats. they've been stopped for sneaking in several times and caught hiding under one of the teens beds even more often. eventually staff just gets tired of spending half their shift wrangling two middle schoolers and it becomes an unspoken agreement to just ignore them hiding in the room.

And once Steve is discharged its the same thing all over again. Robins parents were worried about her spending all her time in the hospital with the boy from her summer job, but given the cover story about the fire and the pair getting trapped inside they convinced themselves its reasonable to want to stay by your friends side while they recover

but now that hes out, shes asking if she can spend the night at his house? and his parents won't be there? absolutely not. except robins in no mindset to accept leaving him alone for this long let alone overnight so she tried sneaking out to bike over to his before he can get the dumb idea to drive over in the middle of the night post-concussion. but the buckleys notice shes gone either because she makes too much noise sneaking out or they notice the severe lack of Robin-trying-to-be-quiet noises into the night (robin my tism queen definitely has bump-into-shit syndrome in the middle of the night but she also doesn't make any noise sneaking around the base with scoops troop so i think it's a 50/50 weather she can use the adrenaline to sneak out to see steve quietly)

so they put two and two together and drive over to the Harrington house. steve answers the door and calls robin over, both of them looking sheepish but not exactly guilty. they talk on steves couch (yes Steves there too) and stobin does their best to explain their separation anxiety that gets the severity across without getting them sent to a mental hospital all while making sure not to break any ndas (which ends up being a long conversation with stobin trying to translate their experience in the bunker to fit the cover story well enough, which is very different when the real story is kidnapping and the fake one is a building fire)

eventually they reach an understanding of "we're worried this is kinda unhealthy but its clearly more stressful to try and separate you right now and we're definitely not going to be able to stop you" so they compromise to let steve stay at the buckleys for a little bit so they can at least keep an eye on them. at first they try just letting steve sleep on the couch (which they agree to because steve worried about overstepping as the guest in their house) but one or both of them have nightmares the first night and robin ends up on the couch with him anyway.

after a few nights they get the gist of the stobin dynamic: attached so strongly its concerning but nothing... flirty. anything they do is always completely innocent. hand holding with no heart eyes, banter with no tension, hell even sharing a bed they resemble little kids in a sleepover pile more than lovers. and especially after nightmares they'll find robin holding steve like hes just one of her old teddy bears.

of course theyre still cautious and have their suspicions that theyre secretly dating and just really good at hiding it, they're paranoid parents after all and robins never shown this much attention to a boy ever. but they do relax a bit with it as they're more confident theres no... funny business.. going on. or at the very least nothing thats going to leave robin hurt. they'll have their talks and robin will promise its "nothing like that", but they've grown to like steve so they're sure robin will come to them when shes ready.

now if only there was a reasonable explanation for the middle schoolers that keep showing up. apparently they were also trapped in the fire with robin and steve which helps make some sense of it, but they also sat with them in the hospital. surely if they're having nightmares about the fire they'd go to their parents? they hadn't really talked much with the sinclairs but they seemed like very loving parents and robin follows steve to his little dinners with mrs Henderson pretty often so its not likely that they can't go to their parents about nightmares, but they seem to prefer going to steve specifically. like ringing the Buckley's doorbell at 1 in the morning asking if steves there. and of course they'll let them in and show them to robins room (after calling their parents first, do they even know their childs run off?) where steve was sleeping in a pallet on the floor but is now a glorified blanket pile robins hugging. on her bed, of course. because god forbid theres 2 feet of space between them.

and the kid just joins them in their sleepover pile, dustin usually clinging to steves other side like a baby koala and erica usually finding a spot leaning against robin or occasionally making room in between them

and so more often than not the Buckley's have not one, not two, but three extra children in their house that isn't their daughter, all of them sleeping in a pile on robins bed like theres nowhere else they'd rather be

#stranger things #stobin #platonic stobin #steve harrington #robin buckley #steve and robin #platonic with a capital p #platonic soulmates stobin #stranger things season 3 #post-starcourt #devon thinks sometimes

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valtoon · 1 year

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cw: angst/major character death

but you had to go

like a wave that crashed and melted on the shore

#harringrove #angst #harringrove fanart #steve harrington #billy hargrove #fanart #valtoon #myart #sateve x billy #billy x steve #post season 3 #stranger things #stranger things fanart

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lumaxramblings · 10 months

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#long post #dustin henderson #mike wheeler #lucas sinclair #jonathan byers #robin buckley #el hopper #stranger things #stranger things 3 #stranger things textpost #textpost #textposts #stranger things textposts #stranger things season 3 #season 3 #stranger things s3

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metalhoops · 1 year

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Everyone who’s touched grief knows it’s bigger than two hands can hold. The inexperienced try to string together the right words to lighten the load and those who grieve wear a momentary mask of comfort, feeling instead heavier. Those who’ve experienced grief know there are not enough words in the world to replace something as simple as a small action.

You don’t remember the platitudes and false virtues strangers assign to the dead, but after a long day when you find your fridge full of precooked meals, you’ll remember who dropped off the potato salad. Max was sick of people who didn’t know her, telling her how kind her brother was. How funny he could be. How talented he was.

No one, save the rare few, know what to do with complex grief. Max didn’t know how to unpick her thoughts, let alone put them into words and hold them up for someone else to see and understand. That didn’t mean she didn’t want to be understood.

She didn’t know how she could miss someone so deeply while being in some small part, glad they were dead. No one tells you what to do when your thoughts betray you.

By the time Max and her mother moved into the trailer park, people had stopped telling her how much they missed Billy, which was a small blessing. They’d also stopped dropping off food or offering to do their laundry. Max and her mother had been too proud to take anyone up on that offer, but she missed the thought.

Two months had passed, and it felt like everyone forgot Billy existed, that anything had happened. Lucas and the other boys had started asking her to hang out again. The unspoken grace period given to her and her mother for mourning had ended. Now it was back to business as usual. Her mother returned to work, and Max was left alone in an empty trailer full of boxes.

That was when Steve arrived with a Tupperware container under one arm and a fancy untouched toolbox under the other.

“Figured you’d need some help,” the boy muttered, kicking off his shoes, not waiting to be invited in.

He knew better. If he’d asked, Max would’ve told him to piss off. She couldn’t understand why Steve of all people was able to read her moods so well.

Steve hadn’t been much help rebuilding the furniture, but he’d supplied the Allen key and screwdriver so she couldn’t complain. He was good at unpacking boxes. With the two of them working, the task had taken a day, as opposed to the week it would’ve if she’d done it on her own. She was meant to be in school that day, but she couldn’t bring herself to go. She’d expected that to be the last she saw of the older boy but instead, he made a habit of checking in on her.

Steve kept dropping off meals. After a week he started driving Max around on the days the mere mention of school threatened to topple her. Sometimes she’d hang around the back of the video store. On other days he’d drop her off at the arcade and she’d play Dig Dug until her eyes burnt and her fingers cramped.

She didn’t know exactly when it’d happened but somewhere along the way, she found herself getting strangely attached to the guy. She’d lost one brother but gained another.

That was why when Steve stopped driving home at night, she’d sent Eddie to get him.

Max didn’t know much about Eddie Munson. His uncle and Max’s mother infrequently drank coffee together at the communal picnic tables. Nothing ever happened. Max knew her mother and how she acted around her boyfriends. This was different. They just sat together, mostly in silence, watching the sun go down. It kept her mother from drinking so much or so early. What Max did know about Eddie Munson was that he owed her.

One night when her mother was out, the cops came poking around the trailer park, asking her if she’d seen anything suspicious. Max wasn’t dumb, quite the opposite. She knew Eddie sold drugs. She also knew the cops wanted to pin something on him. She wasn’t altogether sure why, maybe there was some pressure to put someone behind bars from the kinds of places that had neighbourhood watches.

It was only when crime started to leak into the suburbs that people went searching for the culprits. Some rich kid spikes a girl’s drink in Loch Nora and the next thing you know, they’re looking for drug dealers in trailer parks. The guy will get a smack on the wrist, while Eddie? He’ll get thrown in jail and the people of Hawkins will sleep a little better at night, knowing all is right and just in the world. Until the same guy does it again. Then another trailer park kid is marched off to the stocks.

Max had learnt how the world worked young. It’d been out of some strange sense of solidarity that she’d kept her mouth shut about Eddie. When the cops split, she’d given him the heads up to keep his nose clean while there was blood in the water. She hadn’t done it for a favour. But if nothing else, she was opportunistic.

Steve wasn’t driving home most nights. Max knew because she’d take note when the Beamer shot past the trailer park. Some days it was in the dead of night, others, the early hour of the morning. He wasn’t staying over at girls’ places like she’d first thought. Even if he wasn’t the golden boy he’d once been if someone slept with Steve Harrington, the whole town knew within the week.

She’d followed him one afternoon, riding her skateboard at a safe distance. He’d drive around, past their houses, as though on his own neighbourhood watch. He’d finish his patrol and pull up at any number of odd locations, the train tracks, the junkyard, the woods. At first, she’d worried he, like Billy, was possessed. After long days of silent observation, she realised the kind of ghosts that possessed Steve were of his own making.

Max didn’t know what to do until she saw the light on in the Munson’s trailer past midnight. She stalked across the way, pounded her fists on the fly screen, and called in a favour. She asked Eddie to check on Steve. He’d looked at her like she’d grown a third head but agreed.

Eddie Munson didn’t do favours but Red was a good kid, so he’d made an exception. He began his quest by driving past the Harrington’s manor, hoping for his own sake to find the BMW parked in the drive but Max had been right, Steve wasn’t home, nobody was.

Eddie was tempted to check all the usual spots he’d go if he were a meathead jock with ample time and money. There was skull rock, the notorious Harrington make-out spot and a has-been jock party was going on in the next suburb over from Loch Nora, but Red’s instructions had been clear. If Steve wasn’t at home, she’d rattled off a list of places he might be, each one growing stranger.

That was how Eddie Munson ended up in the junkyard. The place was surprisingly well-lit, despite the late hour. He worked his way through an overgrown thicket, cursing himself for wearing his white Reeboks. He’d be scrubbing out grass stains with a toothbrush for the next week.

Mounds of trash and scrap metal shot out of the dried grass like rocks rising from the ocean. Amongst it all, burning bright as a lighthouse was a rusting yellow school bus. It stood in stark contrast against the blue, black night. A dull glow bled out of the vehicle’s shattered windows.

Eddie found himself drawn to the little island of light as a moth flocks to a flame. His feet moved swiftly, eager as a young child at the prospect of adventure. He slipped in through the half-open door of the bus and was greeted by another body slamming into his.

Eddie’s head cracked against the metal bus frame, making him groan. It wasn’t until he tried to move that he realised there was something sharp pressed against his neck. Against all his better judgment Eddie swallowed, feeling a broken bottle nip at his skin.

Eddie’s eyes flickered to the wielder of the weapon. A once mighty king had fallen like his surrounding kingdom, into a state of disrepair. Steve Harrington. Heavy is the head that wears the crown.

“Harrington,” Eddie spoke, keeping his voice soft and even, as though speaking to a wild animal that could startle.

There was a manic look in Steve’s eyes Eddie knew well. He’d never thought he’d see the ghost of himself dance across such a pretty and foreign face. The days before Eddie moved in with Wayne were better left alone. He knew the wide-eyed vigilance of people who’d grown used to fending for their lives. It was a look he’d never imagine Steve Harrington capable of.

A glint of recognition shifted over Steve’s face and the eyes of years long past were gone as though a trick of the light. The bottle disappeared from his neck, shattering as it dropped against the floor of the bus.

“Shit, Munson. Sorry,” Steve uttered, moving out of Eddie’s space.

Eddie was surprised Steve remembered his name. Across the six-odd years the two had gone to school together, Harrington had spoken to him a grand total of three times. The first, to ask for a pencil in Spanish. The second had been a disgruntled ‘hey, man’ as Eddie sidestepped his lunch tray on one of his biweekly jaunts across the jock table and the third, which Eddie only now recalled, had surprised him.

He’d gotten a D in history. It’d been the final nail in the coffin, solidifying the fact that he’d once again have to repeat his senior year. Eddie spent the rest of the class carving his name into the underside of his desk with his thumbnail until it was bloody and covered in splinters.

He’d almost lasted until the end of class before he had to excuse himself with little plan of where he was going or what he was doing. He knew he wanted to get away, that he needed to be anywhere but there. He wasn’t sure what’d tipped Harrington off but as he shuffled past the former king’s desk, his eyes downcast, a hand shot out to snag Eddie’s forearm.

“Hey, Munson? There’s always next year,” Steve muttered under his breath.

From anyone else, it would’ve sounded condescending, but Steve genuinely meant it. Eddie hadn’t known what to say. He’d felt a sudden lump rise in his throat. He took off, thinking it’d be the last time he’d see Steve Harrington. He’d wished he’d been so lucky.

“So, Harrington, what’s someone like you doing in a place like this?” Eddie asked when his heart rate returned to a regular rhythm. He heard a snort escape Steve’s throat as he leaned back against the opposite wall of the bus.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

Eddie wanted to know when Steve had started to sound so world-wearied. Nineteen-year-olds shouldn’t sound so worn thin. The closer he looked at Steve, the more he saw. His eyes were chaliced with the kind of purple, blue bruises that came from weeks of sleeplessness. There was a pale pink scar, slicing a line from his bottom lip to his jaw. In time, it’d fade into obscurity, but for now, in the cold of the night, it stood out like a crack in fine china.

“What are you doing here?” Steve asked, sliding down the wall to a seated position, as though once again settling in for the night. Eddie heard glass tinkle and grind under Steve’s body.

Had his parents kicked him out? Was he hiding from someone? Eddie knew fuck all about Steve Harrington and he’d liked it that way. Screw not doing favours. Red owed him one after all this was said and done.

“Finding a new place to pedal goods. New chief of police has been riding my ass,” Eddie lied. It wasn’t as though he was going to tell Steve he was sent on a fetch quest by a fourteen-year-old.

A flicker of pain shifted across Steve’s face before disappearing. It was a moon sinking below the horizon line, leaving no trace of the momentary night as a false smile painted his face the colour of a sunrise.

“Can’t say I’d recommend this old rust bucket. Isn’t drug dealing in a junkyard a little cliche?” Eddie rolled his eyes and sank to the floor of the bus, nudging Steve’s foot with his.

“Keep giving me lip and you’ll have to pay double.”

Harrington never brought from him. The freckled asshat, he used to hang around with would buy weed once in a blue moon, but never Steve.

“You got anything on you?” He asked to Eddie’s surprise. He hadn’t exactly come prepared. He searched the depths of his pockets, finding two small ziplock bags and half a pack of rolling paper. He threw them Steve’s way.

“On the house. Looks like you need it,” He mused and watched as Steve’s fingers worked, quick and methodical. Hagan had obviously shared his stash with Harrington.

“Got a light?”

Eddie fetched his Zippo from his back pocket and leaned over to light Steve’s joint. The guy looked surprised. He should’ve handed the lighter over. Too late now.

Steve’s lips were poised so close to Eddie’s fingers. His face illuminated by flame, caused Eddie to shift closer. He lifted a hand to Steve’s cheek, acting under the guise of trying to shield the flame from the breeze filtering in through the broken windows and half-open door.

“You got anything stronger?” Steve spoke, breathing a plume of smoke into the night air. Eddie wasn’t sure it was wise, but he’d never counted wisdom as his strong suit.

“Back at my place.” Steve snorted, smoke billowing from his half-pursed lips, his eyes beginning to haze over.

“People’ll talk.”

People always talked when it came to Steve, but surely not in the way the boy was implying. Ramrod straight, Steve Harrington couldn’t make a gay quip, not about himself. Maybe he was embarrassed about what being seen with Eddie could do to his dwindling reputation.

“I’m pretty good at keeping a low profile,” Eddie supplied, and Steve nodded stoically.

“Stealthy, like a ninja,” Steve replied.

It was Eddie’s turn to choke out a laugh. Goofy had never been a quality he’d assigned to Steve Harrington. He supposed the trait had its charm. It worked on Eddie.

“Like a ninja,” Eddie echoed.

When he’d said yes to Red, he’d assumed he’d drag Steve’s likely-intoxicated, ex-jock ass home and call it a night, but looking at the boy across from him with the joint tucked between his lips and the thousand-yard-stare, Eddie had to admit there was a change of plans.

“Have you heard about the world’s best ninja?” Eddie asked, his once pristine shoes nudged themselves beneath Steve’s Born in the USA style blue jeans.

Steve shook his head, a flicker of curiosity dancing over his face, his stupid floppy hair, falling in his eyes.

“That’s why he’s the best,” Eddie insisted and felt his insides grow warm when Steve cackled. He was pretty when he laughed. He looked more like the guy he’d been back in high school, more carefree.

Eddie wasn’t a stranger to sitting with people and talking them down on their worst nights, but a relative stranger was new.

Eddie stood and extended a hand to Steve. The boy clasped onto his ringed fingers and pulled himself up.

“My van’s parked half a mile up the way, you coming?” Steve shrugged and followed close at Eddie’s side.

The two walked in relative silence, standing so close their hips played the role of balls in a Newton’s cradle, knocking against one another in a rhythmic pattern.

Back in the familiar landscape of his van, Eddie was once again hit with the strangeness of the situation as he watched Steve slide into his passenger seat, snubbing out the remains of the joint in the ashtray. He thought of their spit mingling in the little petri dish and pushed that thought aside. He’d always been good at holding back those kinds of thoughts. It came with the territory.

“Why do you need something strong?” Eddie asked as he turned the ignition.

If he’d learnt anything from his uncle, it was that hard conversations were best had behind the wheel. That way no one could storm out. He’d admitted to his uncle he’d failed his first senior year as the two sat at the juncture between Maple and Main. He’d come out to Wayne along Lakeside Dr.

“Why did you really come to the junkyard?” Steve countered. He was smarter than he looked, or at least, smarted than Eddie had assumed.

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” Eddie quipped after a second, watching as a bemused smirk twitched onto Steve’s face.

“It’s been a hard year, man. Hard couple of years,” Steve confessed. Eddie wasn’t going to let him get off that easy.

“Is this to do with you getting unceremoniously shunted off the top of the Hawkins’ High totem pole?” Eddie asked.

He had a feeling whatever it was ran far deeper than just popularity, but this was Steve Harrington. Steve was pretty and popular. He wasn’t allowed to have real problems. That’s not how the rich and stuck-up operated.

“Honestly? No. Think that might’ve been a good thing.” Steve drummed his fingers against the passenger door.

“Then was it the thing with Wheeler?” Eddie asked, watching Steve cringe. Maybe he should leave it alone.

“Part of it. I don’t know.” What followed was a loaded silence.

Eddie kept casting glimpses from Steve to the road, watching as his face screwed in concentration as he searched for words.

“I feel like it’s my job to protect everybody,” He admitted, his voice barely raising above a whisper.

“And I don’t know how. I feel like I’m supposed to have all the answers but I just... I feel like a kid, who’s in way over his head.” Steve pulled his knees up to his chest, and settled his chin on them, not daring to look in Eddie’s direction.

He was a year older than Steve and he felt like a lost kid most of the time, as though he was an imposter masquerading as someone who knew what the hell he was doing. He wondered if that feeling ever went away.

“Red sent me to check up on you. The kid’s worried,” Eddie confessed watching as Steve’s head snapped to look in his direction.

“She’s got enough on her plate without worrying about me.”

Steve didn’t need to say what Max was dealing with. Eddie knew. Hawkins was a small town, and Billy Hargreaves was infamous. Eddie had a bad feeling about the guy from day one, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t feel sorry for him, dying in a mall fire. Hell of a way to go. He’d heard rumours Max had been there when it happened. Then again, he’d also heard talk of Steve slinging ice cream at the mall. Eddie could see a picture beginning to form. He didn’t like it.

The two didn’t speak for the rest of the drive back to Eddie’s trailer. There was nothing left to say. Steve continued to tap his fingers absentmindedly, so Eddie leaned over, turning on the radio. The tape deck played the thrashing guitar and pounding beats of the latest Slayer album. Eddie liked it well enough, but he cringed, preparing for Steve to chew it up and spit it out. He didn’t. He shut his eyes, rested his head against the passenger window and promptly fell asleep. Eddie would be damned.

Unsure of what to do with the sleeping boy and the blaring music, Eddie drove in circles around all the familiar back roads of Hawkins, steering clear of the potholes and dirt tracks. It wasn’t until Eddie’s eyes started to droop that he called it a night, pulling up outside his trailer, flicking his floodlights twice in the direction of the Mayfield’s, letting Max know he’d gotten Steve home safe. Well, he’d gotten Steve to his home safely.

Eddie was contemplating the logistics of getting Steve out of the car when the boy began to stir. His eyes fluttered open for a second to meet Eddie’s before he groaned and turned to bury his face into the car seat. Damn it all. Eddie had managed to go for years without developing a crush on Steve, it wasn’t goddamn fair he was about to do it now.

“Good morning, Starshine,” Eddie teased, walking around to open the passenger door for Steve.

“Welcome to my humble abode. I have drugs or you know... a comfortable bed. Pick your poison,” Eddie spoke as the two made their way to his trailer.

As they stepped into the main room, Eddie watched as Steve’s eyes scanned the place, lingering on Wayne’s collection of mugs and novelty hats, a ghost of a smile on his face. Eddie grabbed onto Steve’s wrist and led him down the hall.

“The drugs and the bed are in my room,” Eddie explained as they went.

Eddie nudged the door to his room open with a flourish of his hands.

“This is where the magic happens,” Eddie explained and watched as Steve quirked a brow.

“Mind out of the gutter, Harrington. I was talking about literal magic.” Eddie smirked gesturing to his stack of Dungeons and Dragons’ manuals, handbooks, and campaign notes.

“You’re such a nerd,” Steve grumbled flopping onto Eddie’s bed.

Maybe it was the high that’d made him seem looser, but Eddie liked a Steve who took charge. He crawled under the covers, making himself at home in Eddie’s bed.

“Demogorgons suck ass,” Steve uttered after a moment, his face muffled by Eddie’s pillow. He wondered if he’d fallen asleep on the ride home and driven them into a ditch, because there was no way Steve was in his bed, talking about D&D. Eddie liked demogorgons, something he elegantly articulated by muttering,

“You suck ass.” As he flopped beside Steve in bed. Steve snorted.

“That’s one thing I haven’t tried,” he confessed. Yes, he was high. Eddie couldn’t imagine a sober Steve making that confession openly.

Eddie settled on top of the covers, hyperaware a sober Steve might not be as receptive to waking up beside Eddie. He was in over his head.

“Are you okay with this?” Eddie questioned as he rolled over to lay on his side, propping his head up to get a better look at Steve, half smothered in his sheets. As much as people talked about Steve’s love life, they also talked less favourably about Eddie’s, or his lack thereof.

“You’re not going to punch me in the face in the morning?” Eddie concluded, voicing his concerns. His heart was tugging him closer to Steve, but he wasn’t willing to do anything they’d both regret.

He’d been shockingly open to letting the boy into his innermost sanctum. Maybe he had a saviour complex, but he wanted to know how much of a commitment the two would have, how long was the piece of rope that tied them together? Was it a momentary truce or the start of something?

“No,” Steve breathed after a beat, seeming equal parts understanding and offended Eddie had asked.

The two lapsed into silence. Eddie was left wondering if Steve had fallen asleep again, but the rise and fall of the boy’s chest was too shallow. Steve eventually let out a groan and rolled to face Eddie. Whatever momentary reprieve had allowed him to sleep in the car had passed.

Eddie’s gaze was once again drawn to the growing blue beneath Steve’s eyes. He had stuff that could help Steve sleep, but he knew from experience, drugs could only do so much. They were numbing jell on a knife wound, a momentary relief from pain without fixing the real problem.

“Can’t sleep?” Eddie spoke, trying to get inside Steve’s head, to unpick what was going on with him. Steve nodded miserably.

“Anything I can do to help?” Eddie wondered.

There were no guidelines for the strange turn the night had taken. Steve opened and shut his mouth, gaping like a fish on dry land. He had some thoughts, it appeared, but none he was willing to voice right away. Eddie felt strangely endeared to the boy in his bed. He’d give him anything he asked, even if he didn’t think it was smart.

“Is it true, what people say about you?” Steve asked after a long pause.

That wasn’t what Eddie had expected. He blanched and watched as Steve’s eyes swelled, his panic rolling off him in waves, crashing head-on into Steve.

“Never mind, don’t answer that. Christ, that was invasive. Sorry,” Steve fumbled, sinking further beneath Eddie’s sheets to hide his face. It appeared it was a night for confessions.

“Were you asking about the satanic shit or the gay thing?” Eddie spoke candidly, his fingers knotting in the covers.

You didn’t come out to just anyone. You sure as hell didn’t come out to someone like Steve unless you had a death wish, though Eddie was quickly learning the Steve Harrington that existed in his head and the one lying in his bed were two different creatures.

“Forget I asked,” Steve repeated, rolling over to turn away from Eddie, a faint flush dusting his cheeks.

“I don’t worship the devil and I’m not gay,” Eddie found himself confiding.

He watched as Steve’s body went still. Eddie couldn’t see his face, but he could tell his mind had kicked into overdrive.

“Oh, cool,” Steve spoke sounding suddenly distant, as though that hadn’t been the answer he was looking for. Eddie didn’t know Steve Harrington at all.

“But I’d be lyin’ if I said you were the first guy I’ve had in here, Steve,” Eddie continued, giving away more than he’d intended.

Steve peered over his shoulder and quirked a brow. He didn’t look shocked or disgusted as Eddie had anticipated. He looked relieved.

“Like Bowie?” He wondered aloud. Eddie couldn’t help but roll his eyes.

“Yeah, like Bowie- I mean, I have a preference. Guys suit me better, I guess. But sometimes a girl’ll surprise me.”

The conversation felt intimate, surprisingly more so than when he’d admitted it to the guys in Corroded Coffin. With them, there hadn’t been follow-up questions. The guys had been supportive, but they hadn’t known what to say. It’d been another fact about Eddie they’d taken in their stride without much acknowledgement. He hadn’t felt the need to explain himself. He didn’t know why, but when it came to Steve, he felt like he needed to explain the whole thing in intimate detail.

“Me too,” Steve muttered, sounding entirely unlike himself. He was quiet and unsure; two traits Eddie had never assigned to the Steve that lived in his head.

“I mean... for me, girls are easy. Guys are... new?” Once more, Steve sounded unsure.

“Maybe not new because it’s always been there but I just left it alone.” Eddie wondered what’d spurred on the change, whether it was a near-death experience or something else entirely. Eddie was good at reading between the lines.

“Steve, I’m going to ask you again, okay? What do you want me to do?”

Steve sucked air in through his teeth, gripped the sheets and finally let his shoulders sag.

“Can you just... hold me, for a bit?” Steve asked at last, sounding as though Eddie had placed a loaded gun to his head. Of all the things Eddie had been expecting, that wasn’t it.

Eddie moved closer, lining up his hips and Steve’s back, throwing an arm around the boy’s waist. It was different. Eddie was used to closeted guys wanting to have sex with him, but they didn’t hang around long after.

He thought back to Steve’s words. The guy wanted to protect everybody, from god knows what, but who was looking out for him? He hooked his chin on Steve’s shoulder. He smelled faintly of cologne and something chemical, hairspray.

“This okay?” Eddie clarified. Steve’s body felt stiff and unresponsive in his arms.

Steve hummed. It took him a moment to relax but when he did, he practically melted into Eddie. The boy pushed back, fitting their knees together. Eddie was thankful they’d decided to keep their jeans on, fearful of what any more skin-to-skin contact would do. Steve cradled Eddie’s palm to his heart and dropped his chin to his chest, so Eddie could feel the ghost of the boy’s breath dance across his fingertips. Steve was a renowned good lay, but the Harrington charm went deeper than that. The guy was good at cuddling, something Eddie hadn’t thought was possible until he had every inch of Steve pressed and curled against him.

“This okay for you?” Steve asked after a moment, his breath tickled against Eddie’s knuckles.

“Great for me,” Eddie confirmed sounding as breathless as he felt.

Steve’s heart beneath his hand thundered, letting Eddie know the boy wasn’t as cool and collected as he was pretending to be. He didn’t point it out. He did two things very out of character for Eddie Munson. He remained still and silent. Steve’s breath grew deep and even. Eddie leaned closer, pressing his face into the nape of Steve’s neck as the boy began to whimper in his sleep.

“I got you,” He assured.

“You’re safe. M’not going to let anything happen to you.” Eddie promised.

It took time, but Steve settled and at last, Eddie let the long night swallow him whole.

Max decided Eddie Munson was useless. She’d watched him pull up outside his trailer around three and she hadn’t heard from him since. She’d thought the idiot would at least give her a heads up on how things had gone with Steve, but it appeared she had to do everything for herself.

At 10 a.m. when there was still no sign of life from the Munson’s trailer, save for Eddie’s uncle pulling in around six, Max stalked over and wrapped her knuckles against Eddie’s bedroom window. After a moment a mop of curly brown hair popped into view.

“Wha?” The boy grumbled, still half asleep.

“How did things go last night?” Max asked, taking the tone of a scolding mother, talking to a very small, very dumb child.

“Good,” Eddie confided a goofy grin crossing his face. It confirmed Max’s suspicions. Everyone else, save her, was useless.

“Well, where the hell was he? Did you talk to him? Did he seem weird? Is he okay?” Max rattled off a list of rapid-fire questions only to be hushed by Eddie.

“He’s sleeping, Red. Keep the volume down.”

Max opened her mouth to ask what the hell Eddie was talking about when she caught a familiar glimpse of styled, sandy hair peeking out from beneath the sheets. Max, unlike most people, wasn’t an idiot. She’d grown up in California, she knew the way the world worked. She didn’t need anyone to spell it out for her.

“Gross,” She grumbled. Not because Steve and Eddie were both men but because Steve was like her older brother and Eddie was- she didn’t want to think about it.

Max let out an elongated sigh, squared her shoulders and spoke.

“You like scary movies, right Munson?” He seemed like the type.

Eddie nodded.

“Michael Myers hasn’t got a thing on Max Mayfield. You do anything stupid with Steve and I’ll show you how I got the nickname Mad Max.”

Eddie swallowed thickly and nodded. It was all for show, but someone had to say it. Someone should always be in Steve’s corner. Max had the feeling Steve wasn’t used to people looking out for him. She knew the feeling.

“Sir yes sir,” He breathed, faking a salute. Max rolled her eyes.

She had a feeling she was going to regret bringing Steve and Eddie together but when hours later, Steve showed up at her house with a Tupperware container full of spaghetti and a secret smile on his lips, she had to admit, for once she might be wrong.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie ficlet #ficlet #stranger things #bi steve harrington #bi eddie munson #Fluff and angst #sharing a bed #Pre season 4 #post season 3 #alternative 'first' meeting #max mayfield #honestly bi 4 bi is my steddie headcanon #I know it's not as popular #maybe it's my own bias as a bisexual showing #but I feel like bi rep #it is always either someone who is generally #into someone of the opposite sex #who has an 'oh I like this person' moment and realises they are bi #or someone who 50/50 likes both genders #give me more 'well I knew I was into the same sex'#but wow every once in a blue moon I'm smacked in the face #with opposite sex attraction and thrown for a loop #because that's closer to my personal experience #anyway that's my rant #also Max and Steve's relationship is cool #so I wanted to explore it more #metalhoops writes

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mintcakeart · 1 year

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halloween 1986

little platonic Stobin sketches bc i saw this post a couple hours ago and went feral over it

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gmaybe666 · 9 months

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loneliness

this summer has been a lot of loneliness for me, what better way to channel it into a drawing of will in that scene yanno …

[ fun fact: drew this from memory on an app on my phone :3]

#BYLER ART IS BACK BITCH #this song is don’t forget the kisses by wolf Alice coded #this drawing is the one I posted a while back of orange background will !!!#hope you like it #💘#went painterly and realistic. I’m easing myself back into digital drawing so this is like therapy #byler #will byers #mike wheeler #stranger things #stranger things art #byler art #stranger things season 3 #gmaybe666

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thestobingirlie · 9 months

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post s4 steddie fic where eddie, finally free of high school, realises he doesn’t know who he is without the rigid cliches he’s defined himself by his whole life. he doesn’t know who he is if he’s not performing and loudly declaring himself to be a freak just to desperately grapple for attention and respect.

eddie who, like steve, realises it’s all bullshit.

eddie, who’s jealous that steve so easily understands who he is and how he fits into his life, regardless of any jokes other people make at his expense. who accepts people wholeheartedly, despite the fact that cliches would have them hate each other.

steve, who helps teach eddie how to be himself, regardless of the ‘munson doctrine’ and what other people would define him as. who teaches eddie that being a ‘freak’ doesn’t actually define him, and he can find and enjoy interests outside of what society dictates he can.

eddie, who gets into sports, and enjoys drama, and music, and tv shows that teenaged him would’ve mocked and bullied him for years ago. eddie who grows and changes as he gets older, and isn’t constantly trapped in his performance of ‘the school drug-dealing freak’.

#tired of it being the other way around </3 #steve doesn’t need eddie to teach him that school performance shit is bullshit. he already knows!!!!#we’ve watched him come to this realisation season after season #and we watch eddie begin that journey in s4!!!#steve isn’t who eddie thought he would be. he doesn’t fit the box that eddie shoved him into.#because no one does!!!#what made steddie so interesting to me at first isn’t the idea that eddie can teach steve how to be a freak #it’s that steve can help eddie realise it’s all bullshit #whatever box people put eddie in. whatever box eddie puts people in. it’s imaginary!!! it’s not real #it’s high school bullshit!!!#there’s so much more colour in the world than those black and white views #steve is so much more than eddie thought he would be #why shut steddie back into that doctrine when they can love and grow and be more than high school cliches #eddie munson #steve harrington #steveddie #stranger things #my post

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graysmiles-world · 7 months

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Steddie Faking Dating, Part 1

Eddie Munson was cuckoo bananas. Steve knew that. The entirety of Hawkins High knew that. Most of Hawkins, in general, knew that. Which makes it all the more insane that Steve did what he did.

He fell in love with him.

Trust him. Steve knows how mad, psycho, and every other word there is for “batshit crazy” there is for it. But he can’t help it! Steve’s a romantic at heart, and Eddie is the most romantic person he’s ever met. He wraps around Steve like an octopus, kissing every bit of skin in reach. He’s sung, like, at least four different songs for Steve on his electric guitar, which he didn’t even know could be romantic.

All in all, Steve was in love. Flipped around the head and spun until you’re dizzy kind of love. Although he hadn’t said it yet, Steve imagined Eddie feeling the same. Like the stares that Steve feels whenever he turns away from Eddie are brands pressed hot against his cheek. Like every kiss, cheek grab, and cuddle, Eddie pushed his love into Steve in any way he could. Eddie was always the more physical of the two.

But they weren’t yet at the stage where an “I love you” is acceptable. With Nancy, Steve was the one who said it first, two days after their fifth-month anniversary. Nancy said it back but later was informed that she never loved him. He’s going to take it more carefully with this one. They were only a few days past four months in, and it was much too soon to be throwing around the ‘L’ word. Steve just sat - zoning off on break at his summer Scoop’s Ahoy! job. He just turned over the words in his mind until they were no longer recognizable, but the feeling was still warming his chest.

“Steve!” Robin’s harsh shout comes from the front. Steve lurched from his daydream. Suddenly, the sound of crying children and the stickiness of the table in front of him became a reality.

Steve groaned, tilting back until the chair he sat on tipped back, and he could look back at the clock. It took him a second, it being upside down, but it was definitely only 2:28 p.m.

“I’ve got two minutes left!” he shouted, letting his chair fall back on all four legs. He ignored Robin’s grumbling and threats of bodily mutilation to stare at the blank wall before him and breathe in the sickly sweet smell of melted ice cream. It was petty, sure, but Robin had done the same to him, like, three times since the summer started. And he was not one to give up 120 seconds of precious zoning out time.

“Dingus!” Robin shouted, sounding much closer than before. She banged open the door to the backroom, the knob hitting the wall and leaving a mark.

“Jesus, Buckley!” Steve jumps, looking over to her unimpressed scowl and crossed arms.

“Break time’s over,” she tapped her wrist, despite the fact that there was no actual watch there. Steve rolled his eyes and grabbed the sailor's cap from where he threw it at the start of his break.

Robin laughed at his quiet grumbles as he passed him, patting him condescendingly on the back. She let the door swing shut, and Steve flinched at the large bang that echoed throughout the storefront. Avoiding the many kids’ and adults’ eyes, he turned back to admonish her - only to find that Robin wasn’t even there.

Steve could hear her witch’s cackle through the closed window, but it could have just been in his head, to be fair. But instead of arguing with her, which would lead to several customer complaints, he let her take her break. Steve was not in the mood to deal today.

He crammed the stupid hat on his head and turned to the storefront where a couple of giggling preteens already stood.

After, he just amused himself by looking over to the clock (which definitely moved at like half the speed as the clock in the breakroom, he’s sure of it) and returned to work. Robin joined after her own break, and they worked in tandem. It turns out they’re an okay team when they’re not at each other’s throats, but Steve won’t say that not wanting to tempt fate in one of her many taunts. Robin seemed just as tired of scooping ice cream as he was, so she didn’t even make any snide comments as they closed up Scoops Ahoy! for the night.

The next day went mostly the same, but Steve was much more excited.

“What’s got your panties in a bunch?” Robin asked, looking concerned at his constant smile. It wasn’t even a customer service one, but a real one. One hurt Steve’s cheeks a bit from how much he was beaming.

“Nothing, just having a friend come over tonight,” he told her - trying to seem casual. Something told him, though, that his “super casual shrug” didn’t help him. Heat crept up his neck and ears, and Steve was grateful that most of it was covered by hair.

Robin leaned forward onto the counter, setting her chin on her fists and fluttering her eyelashes daintily at him. “Oh, is this a lady-friend perhaps? One that you wooed with your ‘Steve Harrington Charm,’” she said - making bunny ears around “Steve Harrington Charm.”

“No,” he said, shaking his head and focusing on the mint chip ice cream he was switching out with a new batch. “I told you, I’m not interested in a relationship right now.”

Robin snorted meanly, “Sure.”

Desperate to turn the conversation off himself and onto her: “Hey, what about you? Got any secret admirers out there?”

Steve still wasn’t looking at his coworker, but he could hear her choke at the question. It felt a little good, he won’t lie, turning it back around on her.

“I’ve got a boyfriend,” she said after a moment, tapping her fingers against the counter to the beat of the corny song constantly playing through the speakers. “Might hang out with him after work today,” she shrugged, “Don’t know yet.”

Steve nodded, grabbing the empty ice cream container and returning it to the back to be taken out with the rest of the trash at the night's end. Thankfully, that won’t be him because he was able to get out early by switching with Clark, one of the other “crewmates.” He would have to take an early morning shift next Tuesday, but Steve still thought it was worth it. Eddie was coming over that night, and even though Steve could see him earlier that week, he couldn’t help but be excited.

When Steve got home that afternoon, he immediately stripped from his uniform and threw it in the hamper, covering it with some other dirty clothes. Heaven knows how Eddie would react if he saw that piece of clothing.

He’d probably ask Steve to wear it for sex, to be honest. And not that Steve wasn’t up for that (he was always up to sex with Eddie), but he only had one of these uniforms, and it needed to last for the entire summer.

Steve then jumped in the shower, scrubbing the stink of the nauseating scent of gone-bad ice cream and kid vomit. Children shouldn’t have a double fudge sundae after running around in the hot sun for three hours. Who knew? Not that kid’s parents, from how they whined and tried to give explanations as Steve was forced to mop it up.

Robin had way too much fun laughing at him from behind the counter, so Steve went to the bathroom when he saw Erica approaching them across the food court.

When Eddie knocked on Steve’s door at 3:45, fifteen minutes after he said he’d show up (like Steve knew he would be), the house was perfectly set up for movie night. Steve was already dressed in his old basketball sweatpants and one of Eddie’s shirts that he left behind too many times for Steve to be willing to give it back now.

Also, the look on Eddie’s face whenever he saw Steve wearing one of his band t-shirts was one of Steve’s favorites. This is only made better by Steve immediately shutting down any lust building him in eyes with an eye roll and a pull towards the couch.

Eddie whistled, “All setup, aren’t you sweetheart?”

Steve threw a throw pillow at the back of Eddie’s head, uncaring the squawk he let out. “Shut up.”

“Betrayed!” Eddie flailed about, falling back onto the couch, one foot on the cushion. “Hoaxed! Hoodwinked!”

Steve snorted, slapping Eddie’s socked foot aside and falling towards him - making sure to land on his outstretched hands and now Eddie’s ribs. He pressed his lips against Eddie’s before he started the dramatic monologue that Steve knew was coming.

Eddie surrounded immediately, moving to clutch his (or Eddie’s) shirt in both hands. Steve kept the kiss from becoming too dirty because he wanted to watch some movies but was content to make out for a few minutes longer. And God, did Eddie know how to make out with someone? It was wet and hot, sloppy than any other make-out he’d had with anyone else - but Steve loved it. He loved him.

He felt that familiar bubbling in his stomach, the urge to lean back and spit it out - so instead, he pressed forward. He dug his tongue between Eddie’s lips as he liked and let him do it before. Eddie’s stubble scratched against his cheeks, and his shoulder started hurting a bit, but Steve didn’t ever want to move.

Unfortunately, the choice was taken from him when Eddie pulled back, chuckling a bit when Steve tried to follow. “It seems my swindling worked,” he crowed quietly, pressing short but hard kisses against everything but Steve’s lips.

Steve opened his eyes, staring right into Eddie’s endlessly dark eyes. They were crinkled, and it took everything in Steve not to melt into goo. Instead, he raised a brow. “You think you tricked me, Munson?”

Eddie guffawed a laugh, his chest bouncing underneath Steve’s. “Munson, huh? You brought me back down to last names, Harrington?”

Steve couldn’t handle being close to Eddie and not kissing anymore, so he mumbled, “You betcha, Munson,” before returning to the previously scheduled content.

Steve could have spent the rest of his life kissing Eddie on this couch. Unfortunately for both of them, their young bodies couldn’t hold up in that position forever, and they were forced to move only a few minutes later. It was only then that Steve remembered the original purpose for Eddie coming over that night.

“Alright,” he said, pushing back from Eddie’s warmth. “I didn’t just invite you to make out.”

“You didn’t?” Eddie asked, pouting like it was terrible news. Steve just rolled his eyes (he swore, one day, they were going to get stuck like that). He kicked at Eddie’s leg that was being dragged teasingly up his own and stumbled over to the TV - unapologetically adjusting himself in his sweatpants. He ignored Eddie’s groan at the sight and busied himself with picking a movie.

“Which one do you want? Steve called back to him.

“What do you got?” Eddie called back, too lazy to stand over and come over to see for himself.

Steve shuffled through the VHSs, cringing at the choices. They were all from when he was a kid when his parents loaded up on movies so he wouldn’t bother them.

“Uh,” Steve started - trying to find some that wouldn’t be terrible to watch. “Superman 1 and 2, Jaws, Willy Wonka in the Chocolate Factory,” he listed them out, not thinking as he went from VHS to VHS.

“What the fuck, Stevie!” Eddie crackled behind him. “What’s with these movies?”

Steve felt the back of his neck go hot. “They’re all from when I was a kid, okay?”

“Wow, kid you had a shit taste.”

Steve laughed but covered it up with a cough, but not very successfully from Eddie’s crackle from behind him. “Do you want to help pick one, or are you just going to complain the whole time,” he glared mockingly at Eddie.

When Eddie finally decided to wander over, they chose Monty Python and Holy Grail, which came with the least amount of ribbing from Eddie.

Steve went into the kitchen to pop some popcorn and grab some beers while Eddie made a nest from the blanks and pillows. He did it whenever they were getting comfy, so Steve dragged down the softest blankets around the house.

When Steve returned to the living room, he could see the mop of curly dark hair barely visible above the mound of blankets. Once more, that bubbly, giggly feeling rose in his chest. He felt almost bouncing as he made his way over to his boyfriend, setting down the food before moving to turn on the TV. When the opening music rang through the house, Steve jumped on the other cushion, watching as Eddie screeched at his tower of softness that fell off of him and over onto Steve’s lap. Ignoring Eddie’s protests, Steve gathered some to wrap around himself, curling up so his head rested on the couch's arm, his feet tangling with Eddie’s - who was doing the same.

Steve settled in, letting every lousy thing he carried with him flow out with every giggle Eddie tried to hide, and every time he crowed to the screen, definitely not trying to silence those. Steve dozed, letting the lights and sound of the television wash over him with the warmth of Eddie’s legs pressed against his own. He felt Eddie stroking his ankle, the chill of his rings against his sleep-warmed skin making Steve kick a bit.

Finally, when the movie ended and the credits started to roll, Eddie rolled up to his feet. He left his hair in the crazy mess that it was, moving over to where Steve was still lying horizontal on the couch. Steve looked up at him through squinted eyes, barely able to see the curve of his lips in the dim lighting.

“Hey, let’s get you to bed,” Eddie told him, running his hands through his hair. Steve grumbled, wanting to stay in the warmth of the blankets, in Eddie’s heat. He must have told him that because Eddie’s smile faded, and a frown took his place. “Sorry, Stevie, I can’t tonight.”

Something cold rushed over him, goosebumps erupting all over his arms and the back of his neck. He pushed himself so he was sitting, dislodging Eddie’s hand. Eddie held his hand out for a second, debating where to set it, but just dropped it so it hung limply at his side. Steve smiled at him, letting his sleepy exterior hide the little tick in his heartbeat.

“That’s okay,” he whispered, not wanting to ruin their created atmosphere. “Just get home safe, okay?” Steve leaned forward, pecking him on the cheek.

Eddie’s expression smoothed out, the glint returning. “Of course, sweetheart.” He stood up, smacking a significant kiss against Steve’s hair with a mwah! Steve watched him stumble over to his shoes, jumping as he crammed them on his feet. He saluted Steve before falling through the door, out into the darkness and out of sight.

Steve sat there for another minute or two or ten. He only stood up when the air conditioner kicked on, chilling the air. He thought momentarily about curling back in the blankets and falling asleep on the couch. But it looked unappetizing in the moonlight without anyone to warm it up.

He flopped onto his bed, covers cool against his face, and he barely flipped up the blankets and got under them before the phone on his nightstand began to ring. Steve groaned, looking over to the clock.

“Who’s calling at 1 a.m.?” he grumbled, grabbing the phone and resisting the urge to yell at whoever was on the other end. “Hello?”

“Hey Stevie,” Eddie said, a smile apparent in his voice. Steve felt his shoulders relax; something cracked in his body smoothing at the sound of his voice. “Just wanted to let you know I got home okay.”

“Yeah,” Steve swallowed, “That’s good. Thanks.”

“And I had to say sorry about being unable to stay over,” Eddie continued. Steve fell, so he was on his back, cord stretching to lie comfortably.

“It’s fine-” he tried to say, but Eddie interrupted.

“It’s just that Uncle Wayne needs my help in the trailer in the morning, fixing up the shower and whatnot.”

“Oh,” Steve breathed. Whatever else that was displaced from Eddie’s disappearance was gone. “I understand.” He didn’t. He can’t remember the last time his dad asked for his help or the previous his mother wanted him home in the morning.

“Yeah, but I’ll see you soon - okay?” There was a thud and a curse. “Shit, I just slammed my elbow into the wall.”

Steve chuckled laughter loudly in such a silent room. “Of course you did.”

“Dick,” Eddie chuckled. “I’ll let you get some rest. Good night, Steve.”

“Good night, Eddie,” Steve said, and the phone went dead. Steve white-knuckled the handle, just looking up at the ceiling. He returned it on the receiver when the buzz grew too much and rolled over. Within moments, he was asleep.

Next Part ->

#steddie #steddie fanfic #steddie fanfiction #eddie munson #steve harrington #posted on ao3 #part one #stranger things #stranger things fanfic #season 3 rewrite #scoops ahoy #robin buckley

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kitchen-spoon · 22 days

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southern Nights

Pre Season 4 Steddie set Post Season 3:

After the mall fire Robin's parents take her out of Hawkins to go visit family in August so Steve is left to cope without her after spending nearly every day and night with her. So he turns to Eddie who he had been becoming friends with all summer leading up to the fire.

Eddie has to leave Hawkins in August too to go live out in Kentucky with his grandmother (Wayne's mom) at her farm until school starts back up again. He offers for Steve to come with him because he doesn't want to go alone and he knows Robin is leaving and doesn't want Steve to be alone.

Initially Steve being his stubborn self refuses but eventually he relents and agrees to come. They drive out together and once they are there Steve calls Robin Everynight after dinner while Eddie's grandma's cat Bruce sit in his lap and gets attention and pets.

It takes them about a week and a half to start fooling around together after all the tension they had been building at the start of the summer. It Happens for the first time after they smoke weed together on the porch and Eddie teases Steve about hogging the joint because he is spaced out and says "Never learn how to share baby?"

One Night Steve cuts Eddie’s because it was in his face all day and getting in the way and Eddie had been quietly grumbling about it at dinner. He does it at the kitchen table after dinner and its the first time they kiss without having sex. A few days later Eddie gives Steve a small stick & poke star in return.

Steve always insists on sleeping alone in the guest room even after they start fooling around. Eddie hears Steve’s screams when he has nightmares, he always waits until he hears Steve leave his room and go to the porch to check on him and sit with him.

Steve refuses to sleep with Eddie because he sleeps with a little stuffed lamb from his childhood and is embarrassed about it. It helps with his nightmares though. One night Eddie finds it and Steve gets really embarrassed and tries to hide it but Eddie doesn’t let him. They talk and Steve starts sharing a bed with Eddie and bringing the lamb (Cloud) with him. One night Steve falls asleep first and Eddie see’s how Steve rubs its ear against his lips to sleep.

Wayne comes down for the last week of their stay to help move his mom from the farm and back into her home for the winter.

One night Steve has a nightmare and wakes up where it turns into a panic attack. Eddie finds him kneeling on the lawn in front of the porch head in his hands rocking while he mumbles to himself barely breathing. It's when Wayne was coming so he pulls up and sees that and goes to Steve and recognises that it's PTSD. Steve is mumbling about a plan so Wayne plays along with it, assures him it worked and they are safe it's over.

While Wayne is there for the last week they try to be sneaky but he catches on and calls them out when he catches them being all sappy in the kitchen. Steve is cooking dinner and Eddie comes up behind him and wraps his arms around his waist and kisses him. Wayne *ahems* in the door frame and they split a part, Eddie is out to Wayne so he is more embarrassed but Steve is scared. Wayne is like calm down boy, I knew it the night I got here.

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unfinishedslurs · 1 year

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welcome to eden

this is a love letter. inspired by this song

As soon as Steve picks up the phone, she knows she’s making a mistake.

“Rob?”

“No,” she says instead of hanging up like she should.

“Nancy?” He sounds more alert now, and she can picture him standing up straighter, calling to attention at the sound of her voice. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“Not really,” she sniffs, hating herself for it. “I—can we talk?”

He’ll say no. He’ll say no, because it’s one in the morning and he was probably asleep before the phone rang and she shouldn’t be asking to talk years after she broke his heart and didn’t even remember—

“Of course,” he says, and Nancy could kick herself. “Over the phone?”

“No. Not over the phone. I’m sorry, it can wait, you can go back to bed.”

She hears him huff a laugh, even though there’s nothing funny about any of it. “I wasn’t in bed,” he assures her. “Am I picking you up?”

Tears spring anew to her eyes. “If that’s okay.”

“Works for me,” he says. “See you soon.”

“See you,” she echoes, and hangs up.

She spends the time it takes pacing quietly in front of the front door, berating herself for using him like this. But she needs to talk to him, and the sooner it’s over with the better.

Headlights cut through the window way too soon, and she nearly throws herself out the door.

She gives him a look when she opens the car door, telling him she knows how many traffic laws he must have broken to get here this quick. He just grins in return, ready to point out the felony in her closet.

“Where are we going?” He asks, and her heart clenches. He’s so good. He’s so good, and she couldn’t-can’t love him like he wants. She has to tell him.

Tonight probably wasn’t the best night for this conversation, but her skin feels like it’s peeling off and the faster she says something the quicker it will be over with and she can go back to how it was before. Back when she didn’t have anyone to talk to, because Robin might never speak to her again after she breaks her best friend's heart for the second time.

Just rip the bandaid off, Nance.

“I don’t know,” she says instead. Maybe she’s a coward. “A field? Somewhere I can see the stars.”

“I can do that.”

The drive goes by in silence, Nancy staring stubbornly out the window. She can feel Steve periodically checking on her, and she knows he wants to know why she called. She can’t open her mouth to say it in the suffocating enclosure of the car. She rolls down a window.

They get to a field almost out of Hawkins, and the car is barely in park before she’s climbing out, going around to sit on the hood. Steve cuts the engine and follows.

She still doesn’t say anything. She called him to have a talk, why can’t she just open her stupid mouth—

“Nancy?” Steve asks, gentle in a way that used to make her melt. She pulls her legs to her chest, feeling vulnerable. “What’s wrong?”

“Jonathan and I broke up,” she finally gets out.

“Oh shit.” He looks genuinely surprised. “That sucks, I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, well, it was never going to be forever.” Except she’d thought otherwise. She thought they were Nancy and Jonathan, the two of them against the world. She hunches her shoulders. “We never talk anymore, and he was pulling away from me, and he was lying to me for months-“ she shakes her head, clearing the anger she feels at that. “It doesn’t matter. I’m starting to realize there’s things I need to work on, too. A lot to work on, actually.”

“I don’t know what that could be,” he says, flashing her a smile filled with boyish, roguish charm. “You’re already the best person I know.”

She sniffs, and suddenly she’s crying into her knees, shoulders shaking. He freezes beside her, before wrapping an arm around her and pulling her into his side. She leans in for a second, chasing the comfort, before remembering what she came here to do and ripping away violently.

“Fuck,” she whispers. “Fuck, I’m so sorry. I don’t—I can’t—this isn’t what I—“

“Hey,” he soothes. “Slow down. Let it out.”

She wipes her eyes, suddenly furious. “I don’t want to date you,” she says, finally looking him in the eyes. “I don’t—I’m sorry for calling you. I just remembered how much better you used to make me feel, but then I realized that’s like…really shitty of me.”

“Why?” He asks, as if Nancy didn’t come out here to break his heart again. “I want to make you feel better. I like knowing I can make you feel better.”

“I don’t want to lead you on,” she says, mouth screwing up. “That’s why I called you out here. And I know it’s shitty of me—“

“Nancy, you’re not leading me on. I…I don’t want to date you either.”

That stops her in her tracks. “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh,” he echoes quietly. “I—don’t take this the wrong way, okay, ‘cause I know I’m gonna sound like an asshole saying it, but, uh, I can’t do that again. And even outside of that, I don’t like you that way anymore. Uh, sorry.”

She tries not to sag at the overwhelming relief she feels at that.

“Are you sure?” She studies him closely, trying to see if he’s saying this for her sake or if he means it. “Back in the Upside-Down, and when we were fighting Venca, it seemed…”

He grimaces, and Nancy thinks if it wasn’t dark she’d see the beginning of an embarrassed flush on his ears. “I…may have been feeling things,” he admits. “I was testing the waters, I guess. I started feeling nostalgic, and you were there, and everyone was encouraging me, and it all just ended up in this weird…feelings soup. Sorry.”

“You said you wanted to have six kids with me,” Nancy reminds him. “And travel the country in a Winnebago.”

He groans, covering his face with his hands. “I am,” he says, “so sorry. I don’t know why I said that. That had to be so weird for you.”

“It was kind of sweet?” She tries, not letting her relief show. Not yet.

“We haven’t been together in years, and I decided to tell you I used to dream about you having my babies. How do you deal with me?”

“Well it helps to know you were dropped on your head. Puts everything in perspective.”

“Yeah, yeah, yuk it up.” He looks at her, really looks at her, and she tries not to fidget under his gaze. Too earnest, too caring for someone who doesn’t deserve it. He’s always tried so hard. To woo her, to be a better person, to keep back the vicious streak she still sees in him. “I meant it, when I said I loved you,” he tells her gently, no sign of that cruelty that had him painting her as a whore for the whole town to see. “Back then, I mean. I just wanted you to know that.”

She wants to cry. “I know. I’m sorry I couldn’t say it back.”

“It’s okay,” he says like he means it. He leans back against the windshield, looking at the sky. After a moment, she copies him.

They watch the stars together, and the air feels clearer.

“Where do we go from here?” She asks, afraid of the answer.

“What do you mean?”

“What happens with us now?”

“Well,” he says gingerly, like he’s testing the waters. “I don’t know about you, but I’ve heard you’re a pretty kickass friend.”

Friends. She doesn’t know that she and Steve have ever been friends, not properly. Even after the apologies they made to each other, she doesn’t know that she could call what they had friendship. It wasn’t substantial on its own, needing Jonathan as the barrier between them. When it fell, so did they.

“I haven’t had a friend in a while,” she admits. “Robin is kind of a novelty for me. She’s amazing.”

It’s funny, in a way. She was so jealous of Robin, of how close she was with Steve in a way Nancy wasn’t. She’d thought, at first, that it was because they were so clearly dating. After Robin told her they weren’t, she realized how badly she’d just wanted friends. She missed hanging out with Steve, missed his laugh and his squint and his bitchy attitude. She’d hoped that eventually they’d get to that point, was sure they were almost there before Starcourt. In a way, she’d been jealous of Robin for stealing Steve. She knew it was ridiculous. Steve had found a friend, a real friend who hadn’t cheated on him or slept with his girlfriend. She couldn’t begrudge him that.

She just missed him.

“She is, isn’t she?” Steve grins, but sobers up quickly. “I didn’t really think about that. How lonely you must be, since…”

She’s already shaking her head. “It’s not your fault. I didn’t reach out.”

“I didn’t exactly reach out either.”

They fall silent again, at a loss for words. Barb’s death, as always, the canyon between them.

Finally Nancy huffs. “It’s both of our faults,” she declares, “or neither of our faults. I don’t know. I just missed you.”

“Well shit, Nance, I missed you too,” he says, touched.

“I’ve heard you’re a pretty kickass friend too, you know,” she says, glancing at him. He smiles.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, Nancy Wheeler, I would be honored to be friends with you,” he says, and sticks out his hand to shake, like they’re meeting for the first time.

She stares at him, and starts laughing. “You’re an idiot, Steve Harrington.”

She shakes his hand.

Max has always felt like a mirror. One Nancy wanted to smash, pull her out of the shards of her reflective grief and hug. Stroke her hair the way she wanted someone to do for her and say you’ll get through this. So Max could hear it from someone who knows.

Except Nancy doesn’t know anything. Still drowns in her guilt, the ball and chain dragging her into the depths. She can’t help when she’s still such a mess, three years later.

Her hands clench when Mike says Max is pulling away from Lucas. She wishes she could look her in the eye and tell her you don’t have to be me. You can be better.

She’s Mike’s friend. They barely know each other outside of a quick hello as they cross paths or fighting monsters. Max has enough on her plate, she doesn’t need her friend’s weird older sister butting in to tell her how to mourn the right way.

Nancy just hopes she’s getting out of bed. Remembering to eat. Brushing her teeth. She had more cavities in the year after Barb died than she’d ever had in her life, and she knows Max doesn’t have insurance.

Now, sitting next to Max’s hospital bed, Nancy wishes she’d reached out.

With school back comes studying, and with studying comes Eddie Munson, in all his super-senior glory. Nancy is going to get him a diploma if it kills her.

He laughs when she tells him so. “Shit, Wheeler,” he says. “The day something manages to get you is the day this shithole goes down for good.”

Robin turns down her offer to form a study group. “I’m pretty sure if I joined, I’d just distract Eddie, and let him distract me, and we’d end up throwing things at each other until you killed us. Sorry. Steve’s going to help me study for finals, though!”

She looks at Steve, eyebrow raised. She’s pretty sure it’s fair to be dubious, since she was the reason Steve passed his finals in the first place.

“I’m her rubber duck,” he says as an explanation, and she nods in understanding.

Her mom isn’t about to let her study alone with a boy in her room, though, and especially not a boy like Eddie, so she drags him to the library three times a week. He complains, he bitches, he tells her he doesn’t care about his fucking history class anymore. She just hands him a Rubik’s Cube she found to keep his hands busy as she quizzes him.

Three sessions in, he slowly puts a worksheet down and screams into his hands.

“Stop that!” She kicks him in the shin. “If you get me kicked out of the library I’m never forgiving you.”

“I can’t do it,” he says, staring up at the ceiling. “I’m so fucking stupid, Nancy. I can’t even get past question two. Is this torture? Did I die and go to hell? That would be fitting, wouldn’t it? Doomed to repeat high school for the rest of eternity?”

“Stupid” her ass. She knows what kind of work goes into those campaigns of his, has absently flipped through his annotated fantasy novels and left feeling as if she’d seen the story anew. Plus, she went and made a tape of everyone’s favorite songs, just in case, and she knew damn well how quickly he’d taught himself to play the song he did in the Upside-Down. “Stupid” and “Eddie Munson” don’t belong in the same sentence, much less belong in the same space in his brain. She hates Hawkins High just a little bit more for it. “Stop being dramatic. What are you stuck on?”

“Fucking nothing! I can’t focus, it’s driving me fucking insane. I keep trying, I swear, but it’s like I can’t even read anymore! This always happens, I swear to God it’s killing me more than the fucking demobats ever did.”

“Don’t joke about that,” she snaps. “You’re smart, Eddie, you know that. You just need to try.”

His face twists, and she realizes that was the wrong thing to say.

“Oh, thank you, Miss Wheeler, why haven’t I thought of that? Sorry for wasting your time, I’ll get out of your perfect hair now—“

“Sit down,” she protests as he gathers up his stuff. “Eddie, I’ll help you work through the problem, okay? Just sit down, please.”

“No, Nancy!” He swings around, eyes wild. “It’s what everyone always says. Just sit still, stop doodling, be quiet, pay attention, try fucking harder…I tried, okay! I’ve been trying, I tried for fifteen fucking years, and I can’t do it! I might as well just drop out and get it over with. I’m fucking sick of this.”

“Okay!” She feels herself getting riled up. “You want to fail so bad, fine! I’m not your keeper, do whatever you want.”

“I will!”

“Fine!”

They stare at each other, not moving. Finally Eddie storms off in a huff, flinging open the library door in a grand gesture she pretends not to see. There’s a sinking feeling in her stomach, but she can ignore it.

She pretends not to notice when he comes slinking back five minutes later, shuffling his feet.

“Sorry.”

“For what?” She asks primly, going over her notes.

“Nancy, please.”

She sighs. “I’m sorry too. I’m just…frustrated.”

“I’ve been told I’m pretty frustrating,” he offers.

“It’s not…”

“It is,” he says, sitting down. “It’s okay. God knows I piss myself off with this shit.”

She studies him, looking over his defeated face like he’s one of her flashcards. “You’re trying your best,” she says, sounding it out. She can’t really make sense of it. After all, trying her best has always been straight A’s, not stopping until she knew everything she needed to and more.

“It’s not good enough.”

“It will be,” she says. “You’ve got me this time.”

“Listen, I know you’re trying to help—“

“Do you want fries?”

“What?” He blinks at her, shocked, as she starts packing up her things.

“We’re not getting anywhere today. Sometimes you have to step back, and come back with a clearer head.” Usually she locks her door and cleans her guns, the repetitive motion soothing her mind until she can think again, but she has a feeling that won’t work for Eddie.

“I usually just give up.”

“I don’t. Get your backpack, we’re going to the diner. Dinner’s on me tonight.”

At the diner, he makes her laugh so hard soda comes out her nose. The next day, they go to the library again.

After a couple of days, he solves the cube. After three weeks, he nearly kicks her door down rushing to show her the B he got on a test.

Two months later, he throws his cap into the air and his cane on the ground. Swings her around, both of them laughing.

“Nancy fucking Wheeler!” He crows. “Achieving the impossible yet again!”

“Eddie, put me down!” She shrieks gleefully as he stumbles. She barely makes it back to solid ground before two more bodies are slamming into them, Steve and Robin whooping in their ears.

It was weird, to see Steve and Robin effortlessly communicate the way she and Jonathan always had and have it be so unabashedly unromantic. She’d always thought that knowing someone like that was a sign you were meant to be, and they did it while still loudly proclaiming Platonic with a capital P.

She and Jonathan didn’t do it much anymore. It was like dancing to a song that was always a beat off, syncing for just one moment before stumbling again, unsure that they were still allowed this.

She’d known him better than anyone, once, and he’d known her the same. Now she wonders if that was ever true.

“So,” Eddie says, throwing himself onto her bed. “Steve.”

She sits in her desk chair, raising an eyebrow. “What about him?”

“You broke up with Jonathan, right? Are you going to get back with him? I thought you would, but it's been months and neither of you said anything.”

“No,” she says. “No, that’s not what I want. It’s not what either of us want.”

“Really?” He rolls over, eyes searching. “What happened there, anyway? With both your boys. I’m a nosy little asshole, and I wanna hear it from you.”

It makes her laugh, the way he admits to it so freely. He grins wolfishly at her, baring his teeth in a grin. That’s probably why she tells him the truth.

“I wasn’t okay, when I was with Steve,” she says honestly. “I was distant, grieving…I was a mess, and I stayed with him because I didn’t know what else to do. With Jonathan…I was getting closure, I was healing, and things were good between us. They were so good, but after a while, we just started to…deteriorate. I don’t know if we lost momentum, or if the stress just got to us, but we started fighting more and more,” She traces the desk with a finger, remembering the sour taste of Oliver Twist on her tongue. It was a shitty thing to say. “I thought we’d figured it out, for a little while, but then we just…stopped talking. I think, maybe if we’d talked more, we could have worked it out. But I’m…not upset that we didn’t, you know?”

It’s a different kind of loneliness when your partner won’t talk to you. It was different than grieving, different than not having anyone to talk to at all. Because even when she didn’t have friends, she had Jonathan. And then, slowly, she didn’t anymore.

“Nancy, you’re one of my best friends, so-”

“Steve is your best friend.”

“Steve is my best best friend,” she agrees. “But he’s also more than that? Like, I think we’re literally soulmates. Platonic with a capital P soulmates, but, like, it feels like more than friendship sometimes? Like sometimes it’s like he can literally feel my bad days even when I haven’t talked to him yet. He told me once he just knows sometimes. It’s like I hit my hip on my desk and he felt it, but emotionally. It’s wild. It’s like the drugs literally combined our minds. Where was I going with this?”

“I don’t know,” she says, slightly bewildered. She wants to ask how they do that, but Robin barrels forward.

“Right. So outside of mine and Steve’s platonic more-than-friendship, you’re kind of my best friend? And you’re, like, the coolest person I know.”

She blinks. She’s not sure she’s ever been described as cool before.

After Barb, Nancy tried to cut her own hair.

Her mom found her in the bathroom, unshed tears in her eyes and hair a mess on the sink and floor.

She hadn’t laughed, hadn't said oh, honey, your beautiful hair. Just clucked her tongue and took the scissors from her hands. Stepped behind her and took over, took the uneven mess and made it something good, something presentable.

She didn’t say anything until she was done, setting the scissors on the counter. “Sometimes,” she said, wetting her lips. “Sometimes we need a change, before we can move forward.”

The closer she gets to Emerson, the more she feels like she’s letting someone down. Mike. Max. Jonathan. All the people who have relied on her, all the people who trusted her to fight.

In a strange turn of events, her mom is the only one she doesn’t feel is disappointed in her. Her mom is more excited about college than she is sometimes. Chattering excitedly over dishes about the classes she’s going to take as Nancy dries and smiles and tries not to feel like the ground is being pulled from under her feet.

This is everything she’s ever wanted. Why does it feel so wrong?

She takes Eddie to the gun range, because having a gun in her hands has always made her feel safer. More in control. More like the badass protector she wants to be, than the scared little girl she feels sometimes.

Eddie stares down the scope of the gun and shoots like he has experience, but doesn’t hit a single bullseye.

“Your hands are shaking.”

“I’m in a fucking gun range and a bunch of small town hicks were hunting me not too long ago,” he snaps, taking another shot and missing the target completely. He swears and changes the magazine. “Excuse me if I’m a little bit on edge.”

She hadn’t really thought of it like that. “You didn’t have to come,” she says. “I just thought with everything that’s happened, you should know how to use one. Just in case.”

“I know how to use a gun,” he rolls his eyes.

“You know how to shoot one.” She looks from him to the target pointedly. “Not the same thing.”

“Deep. I could really feel the judgement there. Tell me, is there anything else wrong with me?”

“There’s security cameras all over this place. We’re not in Hawkins, so there’s no mob coming after you. I’m here, and I do know how to use a gun. No one is going to hurt you here.”

“I know all that.”

“Do you?”

He scowls at her. She looks back unflinchingly. She’s been here plenty of times, and the guys laughed at her until they didn’t anymore. By the time she brought Eddie, all she got was a raised eyebrow and a “boyfriend?” from Hunter at the desk. She didn’t know what was more incriminating, so she just shrugged.

“You’re kind of a pain in the ass, you know that?”

She rolls her eyes, taking the gun from his hands and lining up a shot. “I’ve heard worse,” she says, thinking about Nancy Dre-ew, and Nancy “the slut” Wheeler, and priss, and shoots. It hits the bullseye.

So do her next five shots.

Eddie looks begrudgingly impressed when she reloads and hands the gun back to him. It’s more satisfying than it should be, to realize that while he’d known she had guns he’s never seen her actually shoot before.

She raises a challenging eyebrow at him, and he huffs around a smile. “All right, all right,” he says good naturedly. “Let’s try this again.”

He does a little better this time around, now that he’s actually trying. He does a little dance when he hits one of the inner rings.

“Take that!” He crows. “I bet Steve couldn’t do this. In your face, Harrington!”

“He’s much more of a close-combat kind of guy, isn’t he?” Nancy agrees.

“Oh, yeah, definitely,” he says. “Does he really have a bat with nails?”

She blinks, caught off guard by the fact that Eddie hadn’t seen it. She never registered that he hadn’t used it during Vecna. Something about the fact seems weird somehow, as if it was as integral to Steve as his coiffed hair. “He keeps it in his trunk.”

“You and Byers need to update your Steve manuals. He said it’s under his bed now.”

“Ah,” Nancy says, thinking of all the times she’s slept with her pistol under her pillow. Empty, because she’s not stupid enough to sleep with a loaded gun when her little brother sometimes wakes her up after a nightmare, but the comforting weight of it alone makes it easier.

“Just tell me one thing,” he says, widening his eyes imploringly at her. “Did he look as sexy as I think he did? Byers won’t give me a straight answer.”

It’s a joke, but his cheeks are a little pink. She’s not dumb, she’s seen the looks the two of them share, as if he and Steve were circling each other. Caught in a whirlpool, waiting for the moment the vortex would drag them down and they could finally touch.

The looks between Eddie and Jonathan, too, that share a certain camaraderie she doesn’t entirely understand and at the same time understands all too well. Steve and Jonathan had always had a strange relationship, too close to not be friendship but not quite there. Surprisingly enough it was better after she and Steve broke up, Jonathan no longer avoiding them and the talk she’d forced the three of them into clearing the air. Sometimes, she’d wake up to Jonathan climbing into her bed, smelling of cigarettes and a hint of something stronger, and he’d tell her it was Steve who drove him there.

She’s a journalist. It’s her job to notice things. She just wasn’t ready to confront that reality, where the two boys she’d wanted wanted each other as well. But she’s grown since then.

She also knows that whoever Steve chooses, it won’t be easy.

“You know,” she says, considering, “when we were dating, Steve never pressed me up against the wall or anything you’d expect from the King.”

Eddie gets this look on his face, caught between confusion and caught out. “…okay? Did you want him to do that or something? Are you trying to ask me to hint to him?”

“No,” she says. “I’m just saying, he never did any of that. It was kind of funny. He always made it so that he was the one pressed against the wall.”

Eddie misses the next five shots entirely, and she laughs at him through it all.

She’s hyper aware of touching other girls now. She didn’t used to be. Even with Robin, who is a lesbian and definitely won’t hate her. Who’s probably gone through the same thing. She can’t help it.

What if they get the wrong idea? What if someone else sees? What if they can tell, what if they know, what if they hate me?

She hates feeling like this. She doesn’t know why it started, doesn’t know what’s wrong with her. She’s no stranger to casual affection—or at least she didn’t used to be. Why does it make her feel so tense now? It’s been years since she realized she liked girls, shouldn’t this have happened back then?

Deep down, she knows why. The Reagan sign in her front yard. Her dad sitting in his chair, the news always on. “Always that nasty disease, Karen, I swear some people are just asking for it.” She’s always known she could never tell him, but now she knows that if she gets sick he’ll say she deserves it. She doesn’t know what her mother thinks. She’s afraid to find out.

She’s growing up, and her fear is growing with her.

Objectively, Nancy knows she and Eddie don’t make sense.

They’re not cut from the same cloth, like Steve and Robin. They don’t calm each other down, like Jonathan and Argyle. They’re too different, too alike in all the wrong ways, for them to get along. They’re both snappy, a little mean. Eddie’s dramatic enough to get on her nerves, and she’s prim enough to get on his. At their worst, they have earth shattering arguments that end in them not speaking to each other for days.

When people see them walking down the street together, they whisper about “that nice girl Nancy Wheeler” and “that awful Munson boy.”

It’s not fair, never has been. Nancy hasn’t felt nice for a long time, maybe before Barb ever disappeared. Eddie isn’t always particularly nice either, but the court of public opinion takes it to extremes, twists him into something cruel instead of the kindness he carries under his leather armor. Someone to keep their children away from. It really is a shame, because Eddie loves kids in a way Nancy never has. She can see it in the way he interacts with them, his bright smile fading when a parent comes to drag them away. Even when he’s expecting it, his face falls, just for an instant, before spinning around with a grin that won’t reach his eyes.

Nancy wants to take him out of here. There’s an offer on the tip of her tongue that she knows he’d refuse.

He’s not her brother, but he’s not…unlike one. It’s almost like talking to an older, flashier Mike. He’s annoying, is what he is. He picks at her, keeps pressing over the littlest things. Tries to get under her skin, succeeds, until she’s on the verge of stabbing him with her pencil. Looks triumphant whenever Robin has to grab her arm to drag her away, rambling an excuse about “some girl thing I totally forgot, yeah it’s an emergency,” while Steve drags him the other way to have bro time.

“She loves it,” she’d heard Eddie crow delightedly once, when Robin didn’t get her out of hearing range fast enough. “Do you see that fire in her eyes?”

“Do I?” She asked Robin. “Love it?”

“I mean, far be it from me to tell you what you do and don’t like,” Robin answered. “But, uh, as far as I can tell, you totally love it. You look like you’re going to rip him to pieces and enjoy it, and he loves that. I didn’t think you’d be this much of a nightmare together, seriously, like, how are you two at each other’s throats one second and then best friends the next? Steve and I have debated locking you in a bathroom until you get along, but we’re kind of afraid you’ll kill each other.”

So no, Nancy and Eddie don’t get along. They’re kind of a nightmare together. They don’t make sense, and they don’t try to. They have other friends, who they get along with better, that they can seek out.

But when Eddie knocks on her window, the only surprise is that he could even get there.

“How?” She hisses, opening the window. He tumbles in, doesn’t even try to play off the utter gracelessness he’s displaying.

“Wowie, I am never doing that again,” he breathes, flat on his back. “You’re going to have to help me down the stairs when I leave, had to leave my cane at the bottom and I cannot get back down that way.”

She doesn’t even want to know what he had to do to get up on her roof with his bad leg. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m but another lover, nothing but an ant in the face of your unwavering beauty, my queen,” he says, batting his eyes at her. The dramatics don’t hit the way he intends, given that he’s stuck on the floor. He holds a hand out pleadingly, and she rolls her eyes, hauling him up until she can get him to her bed.

“Never mind.” She puts her hands on her hips, a gesture that is so obviously Steve she removes them immediately. From the glint in Eddie’s eyes, he notices.

She tries not to be jealous. She tries, she swears, but…

Three of the four (five? she doesn’t know what Argyle thinks of her) friends she has are dating each other. Two of them dated her, first. She can’t help but wonder, if she’d known that was an option, if everything would have been different. If she wouldn’t have this aching bitterness between her teeth.

(Nothing would have changed, she knows. She’d been too desperate for other things. Trying so hard with Steve so her best friend didn’t die for nothing. Staying with Jonathan because he understood her more than anyone else, so maybe they didn’t need to talk. It wouldn’t have helped anything. She still wonders.)

It doesn’t matter. What’s past is past, and she needs to move forward. She can’t stop to think about could-have-beens, because thinking about boys is what got her into this mess in the first place.

She closes her eyes, taking a shaky breath. That’s not fair. None of this is fair. None of it is fucking fair because Nancy stopped caring about fair when Barb died.

She needs a drink. She needs a nap. She needs to stop feeling like Atlas with the world on her shoulders.

She doesn’t do any of that. She calls Robin.

“Barb was my first kiss.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Nancy says, and keeps talking, because Barb is dead and Robin is a lesbian and she’s long forgotten what Barb’s favorite chapstick was back then. “We were seven, and I liked it but I didn’t know if I liked her. But I was convinced I was going to marry her, until my mom told me that girls don’t marry other girls. And I knew she liked girls when she died. She told me when we were fifteen, and I didn’t know the word bisexual but I knew I loved her and that was all that mattered. Not—not like that, not romantic, or maybe it was but it doesn’t matter because she was my best friend and I still love her but she’s gone forever. I loved her.”

She feels Robin lay a tentative hand on her back.

“I had to look her parents in the eye and pretend. All those fucking NDA’s, I had to pretend there was hope. Pretend she was still missing. It was like everyone forgot about her except for me and them, and they sold their house to find their dead daughter and I wasn’t supposed to say anything and Steve kept reminding me about the fucking NDA’s—“

“Nancy…”

“It’s my fault,” Nancy says, staring at the water. “I lumped in Steve, because it was easier than being alone. He didn’t know her like I did. She was worried about me. She stayed because she cared, and look where that got her.”

“That’s bullshit!” Robin’s eyes are wide, and she waves her hands around as she talks. “If it’s anyones fault, it’s those—those scientist guys experimenting on El! They knew there was a problem, and they tried to cover it up instead of making sure people were safe. You didn’t know it was dangerous. How were you supposed to know it was going to end up as anything other than normal teenage drama? None of this is supposed to be real, you didn’t know—“

“But I left her,” Nancy cuts in. “I left her alone to go lose my virginity to a boy she didn’t even like—“

“He was your boyfriend, it shouldn’t have mattered if she liked him—“

“It doesn’t matter!” Nancy shouts, and Robin falls silent, mouth still moving. “It doesn’t fucking matter how it happened, because it did and now she’s dead and she’s never coming back and it’s all my fault.”

Nancy is sick of crying. Sick of feeling helpless. Sick of not being able to change the past.

“It’s not just Barb. I took Fred to the trailer park—he didn’t even want to be there, and now he’s dead. Eddie needs a cane, Max is almost completely blind and might never walk again and it was my plan that put them there. My plan that almost killed them. I’m responsible—“

“Fuck that.”

“Robin…”

“No, you listen to me, Nancy Wheeler,” Robin says, grabbing her by the shoulders. “You are one of the most remarkable people I have ever known. Max would have died without that plan. We all would have died. Venca-slash-Henry-slash-One would have won without that plan, and I am not going to sit here and listen to you blame yourself for saving lives. And-and Fred! Venca had already marked him, you know that. You couldn’t have done anything! And Barb is not your fault, okay? I-I-I know I can’t convince you, but I’ll say it as many times as it takes until you start believing it, because it’s true. You didn’t kill her. You didn’t kill anyone.”

“I killed Bruce,” she says, just to prove Robin wrong. And isn’t that shitty of her, to forget about him until she can use him to prove a point? She’s a fucking awful person.

“I don’t know who Bruce is, but given your track record I highly doubt that.”

“I bashed his head in with a fire extinguisher.”

Robin pauses, and Nancy’s stomach sinks. This is it, she thinks. This is what will convince her, this is what will make her see that I’m wrong, that I’m poison-

“What was he doing?”

“What?”

“Bruce. You had to have a reason for it. What was he doing?”

It’s like Robin doesn’t even care that Nancy just admitted to first degree murder. “He was flayed,” she admits, knowing Robin will take it as proof that she’s right.

“That’s not murder, that’s self defense,” Robin says, just like she knew she would. “Also, if he was flayed he was already dead. Sorry, I’m sticking to your side on this.”

“But I’m less torn up about killing my asshole coworker than I am about anything else. How does that not make me a monster?”

“He was already dead, Nancy!” Robin shakes her. “You’re not beating yourself up over it because you know he was already dead, a-a-and I know you’re using him to try and push me away and I won’t let you.”

“Robin…” she says, tears springing to her eyes. She’s so fucking sick of crying. So sick of the way she never seems to stop anymore.

“Nancy,” Robin says. “None of us are going to leave you. Stop trying to make us.”

She pulls her into a hug, and Nancy sags into it, boneless.

There, sandwiched between the sky and the water, Nancy starts to feel like she could forgive herself.

“Nancy,” Steve says, putting a hand on her shoulder and ducking his chin to look her in the eye. “They won’t be alone.”

Tears well up, unbidden, at the way he seems to understand her now in a way he never did before.

“I want this,” she insists.

“I know you do,” he says. “Which is why you’re going to go out there, kick ass, and take names. We’ll be here, okay? We’ll keep an eye on them.”

“I know you will.” She swipes a hand across her eyes. “Can you talk to Holly, too? She gets lonely.”

Steve smiles. He’d always loved Holly, when they were dating. He used to braid her hair sometimes. Asked her about her drawings, her TV shows, listened to her talk with the same attentiveness Nancy’s father had never shown any of them. He’ll be a good dad, someday. To someone else’s children.

“I’ll talk to Holly,” he promises. “Does she still like princesses?”

“Ladybugs,” she says. “It’s ladybugs, now.”

“Ladybugs. I can do that. Black and red, and they’re all ladies. What’s not to like?”

“There are male ladybugs.”

“Wait, seriously?”

She laughs, tearfully, but they’re happy tears. Steve wipes them away gently, and she smiles at him to let him know she’s okay. “You’re an idiot, Steve Harrington.”

“You’re the best person I know, Nancy Wheeler,” he replies, achingly sincere. “You’re gonna have the whole world under your thumb, I just know it. Ever thought of running for President?”

“Can’t be worse than the one we have now,” she says, grimaces as her own joke lands too bitterly to be funny. She sees his jaw tighten before he forces himself to relax.

“I’d vote for you.”

She grins at him, sharp to punch through the tension she’d made. “I’ll make Eddie my Vice President.”

“Oh, fuck no. You lost me,” he says, and Eddie makes an offended noise from where he’s stealing snacks from the glovebox. Jonathan swats him, and she smiles at him too. He smiles back, tentatively, and wanders to her side.

“You gonna be okay up there?” He asks quietly. She can hear the guilt in it, still, and she reaches down to squeeze his hand. The one with the scar that matches hers, so their palms line up. It feels full circle, somehow, the three of them together like this.

“I’ll be okay,” she confirms, and feels the truth of it in her chest. Her boys are here with her, the ones who have been there since the beginning. Eddie’s watching them fondly, munching on a granola bar. Robin is inside somewhere, rambling at her mother. Mike and Holly are probably still bickering over the last cupcake. She loves them so much, all of them.

“Of course you will,” Steve says. “You’re Nancy fuckin’ Wheeler. Nothing stops you.”

She wants that to be true. She can feel in her bones that it will be. Eighteen has nothing on who she’ll be at thirty.

She’s Nancy Wheeler, and the world won’t see her coming.

#welcome to eden au #stranger things fanfic #nancy wheeler #eddie munson #steve harrington #robin buckley #jonathan byers #this is the biggest thing i've posted so far #i ran out of the little fics i'm gonna have to start figuring out how to format the big ones #there's background steve/eddie/jonathan bc this was originally a companion piece to a seperate fic about them #that was 22k before i lost interest #i'll post that one eventually #can you tell nancy is my favorite character. i love u miss survivors guilt <3 #sometimes i think about how nancy has no friends for p much three seasons after barb died and i get very upset #jonathan could count but he also wanted to date her so i'm not counting it #I JUST WANT HER TO HAVE FRIENDS #i also love nancy/eddie friendship they're both judgy bitches #so is steve frankly. nightmare trio #i'm gonna write that ot3 one day (don't hold me to that)

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schrijverr · 1 year

Text

I'd Pick You

Robin has a nightmare and bikes over to Steve’s, only to find him already waiting for her on the porch after a nightmare of his own. Together they make it through the night.

Based on this post by @rogueddie

On AO3.

Ships: none

Warnings: nightmares

~~~~~~~~~~

Robin shoots up in her bed, panting heavily as panic clambers up her throat. In her minds eye, she can still see that Russian bunker, feel Steve’s limp body behind her. The silence around her feels oppressive. It’s always quiet after. She never screams, never makes a sound, just the sudden start into wakefulness.

Sometimes she wishes she would. Wishes she’d scream so loudly that her parents would wake up, that they would come and tell her she’s okay now. That she is safe. She wishes that she could make it real, not just for herself, but for them too. To show she hurts.

However, she’s also grateful for the silence that comes. The loneliness of her bedroom after the horrors of her mind. Because her parents won’t come, won’t make her some tea and sit with her until she stops shaking. Won’t keep her here.

Quietly she slides out of bed, grabbing her bag from the ground and her jacket from the chair in the corner of her room.

She tiptoes down the hall, shivering and regretting not grabbing a sweater too, but not wanting to risk waking her parents now that she made it past them. As much as she craves their affection sometimes, they won’t be able to calm her down like Steve will.

Luckily, they have come around to her attachment to him and she just leaves them a note to tell them where she has disappeared of to. A common occurrence.

At the door, she remembers she forgot socks too, so she slides into her flip-flops, before carefully opening and closing the door as she enters into the night.

The cool breeze washes over her as she hears small critters scuttle about. Above her the stars twinkle happily. She takes a deep breath in, letting it out as her shoulders relax slightly. It feels good to be outside for a bit

After taking a second, she unlocks her bike, which has been chained to the fence. She uses her jacket sleeve to wipe the condense of the saddle, before swinging her leg over the frame and biking off towards Loch Nora.

Their houses are quite far apart, but the route is familiar and she feels the jittery energy leaving her as she paddles faster and faster until she’s out of breath.

Robin lets the bike carry her the last stretch of the route, until she comes to a stop in front of a familiar house. She goes through the motions of locking her bike and chaining it to the fence in a way Mr. and Mrs. Harrington would hate if they saw, before she turns to the entrance. Her eyes then fall on a figure sitting on the porch.

Steve.

He’s sitting on the steps, blanket wrapped around him, yet shivering slightly anyway, since he’s only clad in boxers and a shirt.

A part of her is relieved she doesn’t have to feel guilty about waking him up by banging on his door, however another part of her is concerned about him. He smiles at her, but his eyes aren't really seeing anything.

“You okay, dingus?” she asks as she walks up the path towards him.

“As okay as it gets,” Steve answers her with a small huff that is supposed to be a laugh, but doesn’t really land.

She slides her bag of her shoulder and sits down next to him. She should get him inside, but like her, he needs the outside sometimes and if she goes inside now, she’ll feel trapped. Best to give it a moment to all calm down. To believe that Steve is alright again.

He automatically drapes one corner of the blanket over her so they can cuddle up together. He feels cold and a few cigarette buds lay at his feet.

“How long have you been sitting here?” Robin asks.

Steve doesn’t meet her eyes as he shrugs: “Thirty minutes or so.”

Mentally Robin convert that to an hour. She sighs: “Dingus, Steve, why didn’t you come over?”

“I didn’t want to wake you,” Steve replies. “Plus, last time I knocked on your window you fell out of bed because I startled you so badly. You had a bruise for a week.”

“That’s not a reason not to show up, you dingus,” she tells him, nudging him with her shoulder. “I’d much rather have a little bruise than a sad Steve. You know how I get with your puppy dog eyes.”

The comment gets a small laugh out of Steve, which sends relief through Robin’s veins. It feels like she can finally put the worries her nightmare gave her out of her mind. Steve is here. Alive and well. Present and accounted for.

“I’ll remember that, Robs,” he promises, meeting her eyes and giving her a soft smile.

“You better,” Robin grins. “If I have to hear my parents talk about protection, so do you.”

“Oh my god,” Steve cackles.

“Don’t laugh, dingus,” Robin complains, but she’s also smiling at Steve’s delight. “It’s not that funny, asshat.”

“But it is,” Steve protests. “They’re worried about your virtue with me. Me! That’s hilarious.”

“Okay, maybe it’s a little funny,” she gives in, leaning into Steve's side as he does the same.

They sit in silence on the porch. Robin listens to Steve's even breathing as she watches the stars, glad to have him next to her. They should be heading inside by now, but Robin doesn’t want to say goodbye to this moment, to the crisp air and the freedom of the night sky.

However, after a few minutes Robin shivers. She just has her jacket a shirt and shorts on, which are doing nothing against the early autumn night. Her toes are especially freezing in her flip-flops.

Steve notices immediately, practically attuned to her every movement like she is to him. He perks up and says: “Let’s go inside, I’ll make hot chocolate.”

“Whoo,” Robin cheers, allowing him to pull her off her feet.

She is glad he suggested it. She knew it would have to happen, but it’s nice that he is one that came to the conclusion to go and suggest something that would make them not have to go to sleep just yet. She’s also glad for the hot chocolate, they both need it to warm up. Steve especially. She doesn't want to think about how long he has been out there before she came.

Inside she places her bag by the door, kicking off her flip-flops and hanging her jacket on her favorite hanger as has become routine.

Steve ambles further inside flipping on a few of the lights as he goes. Robin follows after him, hopping onto the counter as she watches Steve putter around the kitchen to make their hot chocolate.

It has become tradition to drink it on bad nights. Robin doesn’t know what he does, but no one makes hot chocolate like Steve does. It tastes better when he makes it.

She can see that Steve also starts to feel more human again. He’s humming softly and swaying a little as he stirs the milk and powder.

After a moment of existing alongside each other, Robin asks: “What was yours about?”

Steve looks up at her, his eyes flashing with a few emotions, before he sighs. Then he shrugs: “The usual, you know.”

And she does know. She is probably the only person, Steve has ever let in far enough to tell her about the nightmares he has. How he screams himself awake and there is no one to hear and check in on him. No one but Robin, but Robin doesn’t live with him. And having to go over is enough of a barrier to make him hesitate.

It’s probably why he was on the steps, Robin realizes as she watches him grab two mugs. He wanted to reach out, but hesitated. So he sat there, hoping she’d come by.

The realization alone is enough to convince her to push where she'd normally let him deflect. “What usual was it?”

He looks a little surprised, before looking back down and focusing on pouring the hot chocolate in the mugs.

Steve is quiet for a second and Robin almost thinks he isn’t going to answer, before he says: “The junkyard. But you were there too and I could only get to you or the kids on time.”

“Holy shit, Steve, that sucks,” Robin tells him sympathetically, because there isn’t really another thing to say in this situation.

“It wasn’t too bad. I woke up before either of you could get ripped to shreds too badly,” he shrugs, trying to play it off. Instead of elaborating further, he takes the two mugs and walks her way, asking: “What about you?”

“The bunker like always,” Robin answers, letting Steve get away with deflecting again. He’d talk more later, she is sure. “You died this time, you know. So I was all alone down there, tied to your corpse.”

She accepts the mugs and takes a sip, burning her mouth in the process.

Steve gives her sympathetic look. He is the only one who can do that without coming across as condescending and Robin loves him for it, because she needs that comfort.

He takes her free hand and presses it against his chest. She can feel the steady beat of his heart and the last bit of tension leaves her. He gives a lopsided smile and says: “Still alive and kicking.”

“Thank you,” she tells him quietly.

“Of course,” Steve replies, because there isn’t a world where they won’t do anything for the other.

They drink their hot chocolate like that. Robin sitting on the counter, Steve between her legs, her hand on his chest.

Once their mugs are empty, Steve breaks the silence: “We should try sleeping again. You have school tomorrow.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” Robin groans as she jumps off the counter. “I have Mr. Harris first period, he is the worst.”

“Yeah, don’t miss him,” Steve agrees with a grimace, leading her up the stairs. Their dirty mugs can wait till tomorrow.

“I won’t either. I mean, he just is terrible,” Robin starts to complain in a rant as she walks to Steve room on autopilot.

Steve chips in his own opinions and memories, the conversation sliding to school in general. They move to the en suite bathroom. Robin pees first as they continue to talk, Steve pees after. The two wash their hands side by side, before going to bed.

The sheets are still a mess from when Steve stumbled out of bed in a panic earlier, but Robin doesn’t comment on that, instead just climbing in and crawling under the covers. She holds up one corner and beckons: “Come cuddle, dingus.”

Steve rolls his eyes at her, but doesn't waste a second crawling in beside her. He curls up like he always does and as always Robin curls up behind him, molding her own body along the line of his back.

It had taken them a few tries to perfect their cuddling position, but now they have it down.

Robin must admit she had been a little surprised when Steve admitted to liking being the little spoon, however, she has come to love being the big spoon.

She clutches the back of his shirt with one hand, letting the other come around to place over his heart, their legs tangling together. This way she could feel every beat of his heart, feel his lungs expand as he breathes and know she makes Steve feel protected, something she couldn’t do for him in her nightmare. When it mattered. It feels like making up for something that luckily never happened.

So, she happily cuddles up to him, burying her nose in his hair and being soothed by the smell of his hair products.

Despite the late hour, neither fall asleep quickly. Their encounters with the Upside Down have taken that from them, but they get comfort out of being together anyway.

It’s during this that Steve speaks up, like Robin had predicted. “I would have picked you. In the dream, I mean. I would have picked you and that scares me.”

Robin can imagine this is easier to admit without having to look at her. She feels both happy and a little hurt by the comment. Conflicted she asks: “Why does it scare you?”

“Because it wasn’t even a question. I will always pick you, even over the kids. I can’t exist without you and the idea of you loosing you scares me so much that I would be willing to sacrifice the only thing I was ever good at to save you,” Steve says quietly as if he hopes she won’t hear him.

It’s a lot at once and Robin needs a moment to think it through. She squeezes Steve to tell him she heard, she’s still here.

Steve loves her a lot. She already knew that, but she is so used to be second choice that it overwhelms her for a second. Steve loves her as much as she loves him. It’s insane how much she adores this goofball in her arms.

However, she also knows how much Steve loves the kids. She sees how he lights up whenever they come by work and how 90% of the time, he’s talking about something silly they did or complaining about how they never pay for gas and always demand rides, though he would never even ask them to pay for anything.

She also knows that Steve would die for these kids, that he has sacrificed himself for them. Hell, she has seen for himself how Steve will jump in front of danger for these kids without a second thought.

It sounds ridiculous that he would not jump in front of danger to save them. That he would abandon them for Robin.

Robin knows how much of Steve’s sense of self is built around protecting the kids and all he does for them. A lot of his life revolves around the kids, the dates he goes on and her. She is very touched by him picking her, but she can imagine that must be terrifying to Steve.

After gathering her thoughts, she finally replies: “That is scary. I can’t exist without you either and I’m not even going to think about the possibility, honestly. But, you’re never going to have to make that choice.” It’s only as she says it, that she realizes what she wants to say. “You’re not. I’m not going to let you.”

“How?” Steve asks, sounding small yet hopeful.

“Well, first of all, those gates are closed. It’s done now, so hopefully it will never have to come to such a scenario again,” Robin starts. “But beyond that, I will always be running towards you and we can run to the kids together. No having to pick.”

“God, I hope it doesn’t come back,” Steve sighs, but the line of his shoulder is less tense than before, which is a good sign, despite the fact that he adds: “But what if you’re tied up?”

“Steve, my sweet dingus, coming up with what ifs isn’t going to help,” Robin tells him gently. “I propose we agree that we’re going to work together to keep those idiot kids safe and by always doing that together, you’re going to be by my side if something goes wrong and you never have to pick, because we’ll be together to go to the kids. How does that sound?”

Steve is quiet for a second as he mulls over her words. Then he says: “Yeah, yeah, okay, let’s do that.” His hand comes up to slide over hers, the two of them holding hands over his chest. “Us together.”

“Us together,” Robin repeats, squeezing his hand.

“I love you, Robs,” Steve tells her and she knows how he means it.

Her insides thrilling with happiness at the friend she made. There is probably nothing in the word that can separate them and that’s something she never thought she’d have. Fondly, she replies: “I love you too, dingus.”

“Thanks for listening to me,” Steve then adds.

“Of course,” Robin replies, because as before, there isn’t a world where either of them wouldn’t do anything for the other. “Think you’re up for sleep again?”

“Yeah, goodnight,” Steve says.

“Goodnight.”

It’s not instantly, but the two of them manage to fall asleep once more. Their breathing syncs up and they keep the other warm and safe. It isn’t perfect, but it’s more than enough.

The next morning, an alarm wakes the both of them up. Robin lets out a long groan, burying her head more into Steve’s back as he hits the alarm until it stops. Then he starts to sit up as she complains: “Nooo, five more minutes.”

“You can go back to sleep, you sleepy head,” Steve tells her with an eyeroll, she doesn’t have to open her eyes to know that. “I’ll make some breakfast.”

“Ngh, warm,” Robin pouts, clawing to his shirt to stop him from going.

In the distance she can hear Steve laughing at her, which is rude and she will remember that, but sleep takes her under first. In her sleepy state, she can’t fight him off as he pries her fingers off his shirt.

What feels like just a second and yet hours, Steve is shaking her as he says: “Get up, Robs. You need to get to school. Get dressed and come eat breakfast.”

“Do I have to,” Robin whines, burying her head in the pillow.

“Yes,” Steve says, poking her. “Come on. Giddy up. We have to go if you don’t want Mr. Harris to be a dick. And you know he will be.”

That gets Robin out of bed. She must look a mess and Steve has no problem laughing at her bedhead, which naturally earns him a middle finger as she stumbles out of bed. Steve of course is already dressed with perfectly styled hair and she hates him a little for it

She pads over to the bathroom where she has her own toothbrush to use. When she’s done, Steve has already disappeared down the stairs to finish up breakfast while she gets dressed.

As she left the house last night, she didn’t stop to pack any clothes. She’s honestly surprised she remembered to snatch up her bag. But it isn’t any issue. Without a care she pulls open Steve’s wardrobe. She has a few sets of clothes here, but Steve just has more comfortable pants and boxers so she steals those, before picking out one of her own shirts.

Once she’s dressed she makes her way downstairs. Steve has a plate of breakfast ready for her and a cup of tea waiting. She always drinks tea in the morning, hot chocolate is for nights. Her parents don’t know that about her, Steve does.

He knows how she eats her breakfast, that she likes women, that she thinks Mr. Harris sucks. He knows that she steals his pants and boxers, but he never comments. He knows her inside and out and he would pick her. He’s her dingus.

“Thanks,” she says, hoping those thoughts show as she dives into eating her breakfast.

“You can chew, you know,” Steve informs her in that judgy way of his that she loves.

“I know,” she tells him while chewing obnoxiously just to be annoying.

“I hate you,” Steve says without heat.

“I love you too, Stevie,” she grins.

He rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling too as he turns to his own breakfast and his coffee, because he likes drinking something gross in the morning, the weirdo.

With breakfast gone, the two get ready to leave. Robin doesn’t have her normal shoes, so she slides into her flip-flops, resigned to wearing them to school until Steve rolls his eyes and hands her a pair of sneakers.

“We don’t have the same shoe size, dingus,” she reminds him. “I’d rather wear flip-flops than loose my shoes all day.”

“I know. I got these in Freshman year, they should be your size,” Steve says.

Cautiously Robin takes them and indeed they fit. “Fuck yeah,” she cheers as she hears Steve huff out a laugh of his own. “I can’t believe your Freshman shoe size is my shoe size now.”

“Well you know what they say about big feet,” Steve replies, wiggling his eyebrows as he opens the door, because he is a massive asshole.

“Oh my god, iew, stop that,” Robin exclaims making gagging noises. “Also don’t get too cocky mister, your shoe size is like two bigger than me and I’ve seen your dick. It wasn’t that impressive you know.”

“Scream it louder why don’t you, wake the whole neighborhood up,” he shoots back, smartly not replying to her point.

Robin sticks out her tongue and he does the same.

They walk down the path past Robin’s bike, which stands forgotten against the fence. She’ll probably pick it up in the weekend or something.

Together they get into the car, still continuing their silly dick-size-shoe argument. In that moment, Robin has all but forgotten about that Russian bunker and Steve’s limp body behind her. There is sound all around her and she feels no weight on her shoulders as she screeches at something stupid Steve tells her.

Sometimes she wishes it won’t end. Wishes that she could spend the rest of her life in the car with Steve talking about anything and everything under the sun, that they’d have no goal and just the world in front of them. That they’ll stay together. She wishes that this could be forever and nothing could ever change it.

However, that isn’t the case. She’ll have to leave that car, go back to the world where she has to talk with other people and pretend the summer didn’t happen. But she’ll be okay, because she will get to go back to Steve after and they’ll work the counter at Family Video and pick up like no time has passed. Steve who puts her first.

With a smile, she slides out the car, but not before hugging him. She waves goodbye until he leaves the parking lot. There are worse ways her night could have gone. Worse ways her life could have gone. She can deal with nightmares if Steve is there to catch her again.

#rr writing #stranger things #steve harrington #robin buckley #platonic stobin #stobin #st post season 3 #tw: nightmares

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