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10 ▰▱▰▱ Take Me Home (Please Stay With Me) ▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱

"came back wrong" post-s4 fanfiction, featuring monster kas!eddie. pre-steddie -> steddie

minors DNI. No, seriously. Here be S P I C Y content, do NOT interact if you are underage. (at least i think i finally need to use this one („ಡωಡ„) )

TW: Period-typical use of the f-slur, other period-typical warnings apply. It's the 80s, y'all. You should know what it was like.

⚠️CONTENT WARNING (contains possible spoilers!):⚠️ there is some minor emotional abuse from one character aimed at another towards the end, and when another character comes to the victim's defense they aren't exactly nice either. it's complicated and very emotionally charged, so just tread lightly if you're sensitive to that. M'kay? It starts a little after the second Take Me Home divider, where Mike asks Eddie how he'd survived.

-> [ read from the beginning on AO3 ] <-

Part I ┊ Part II ┊ Part III ┊ Part IV ┊ Part V ┊ Part VI ┊ Part VII ┊ Part VIII ┊ Part IX ┊ Part X (📍)

Eddie is half convinced Arlene is just bullying him at this point.

Ever since she got back from finishing her errand she had to run this morning, she’s been on him like mold on bread. He supposes in some ways he ought to be grateful since she’s so determined to teach him to cook, but needless to say, it’s… not going well. He’s kind of hopeless with this whole cooking thing, which. A bit embarrassing, to be honest. She’s tried to start him on what she claims is “easy stuff,” but so far all he’s managed to do is turn everything into inedible charcoal, accidentally catch a dish towel on fire, and drop approximately six eggs on the floor. Steve’s not even here–he has another shift at Family Video to work today–to save him from her single-minded focus, and although he won’t admit it out loud, his absence is partly to blame for Eddie’s despondent mood.

After yesterday’s development, his hopes are at an all-time high. Because… There's no doubt in his mind that Steve hadn’t been flirting openly with him. And this morning, before he’d left for work… Christ, he’d thought the blood feedings were erotic before, but. Fuck, this one took the fucking cake. Eddie swallows, licking his lips as memories of the way Steve’s hazel eyes went stormy come to him unbidden. The way those green-brown-gold irises had darkened, reminding him of rain-soaked moss climbing the bark of a pine, facing the north so only the edges of the green can catch the light of the golden hour as it filters down through the canopy and casting a muted amber glow over the vibrancy of nature. The way his pupils had dilated, the blackness swallowing the deepened color the longer Eddie had looked at him. The delectable scent of Steve as he’d pressed his wrist to Eddie’s lips–buckwheat honey and spicy peppercorns; wood-smoke-salt-sweat-musk– and the taste of his flesh when he’d run his tongue across the tanned skin, dragging goosebumps across the surface. The way he’d murmured so softly, yet so commanding—

“Go ahead… don’t be shy,” Steve had chuckled, a self-assured smirk pulling his lips upwards on one side, his eyes slipped half-hooded as he’d gazed darkly at Eddie. “I have just what you need, Little Riot. Are you going to be good for me and ask for it?”

He’d been helpless to resist, dropping to his knees with a whine before his savior, his Stars, his perfect would-be-mate, begging without words for Steve to give him what he wanted–what he was desperate for. He’d been shaking, trembling with a visceral need for Steve to force him under his hand, to press his will onto him and drag the words out of his throat. Somehow, Steve had known exactly what he wanted and the way he’d looked down his nose at Eddie on his knees had made his dick throb and press insistently at the fly of his jeans, twitching with a desperate need to be touched. The disappointed click of his tongue sent waves of humiliation through Eddie, a floaty feeling tickling the edges of his mind and making his dick leak in his boxers so thoroughly he could feel the way the fabric started to stick to the head. Steve’s fingers sinking into the hair at the back of his skull and fisting tight in his curls felt like a revelation; he almost drooled all over himself as his mouth dropped open, wide around a shaky moan as his eyes rolled back and his vision went fuzzy at the edges.

“You’re a handful, aren’t you?” Steve had said, a fistful of Eddie’s hair clenched between thick fingers. His body had been directly in Eddie’s space and surrounding him with the scent of Steve. His words were cutting but somehow so, so honeyed to his ears. That spicy-sweet-scented wrist was pressed against his fangs yet again, and Eddie had felt a trickle of drool finally escape his parted lips to roll down his chin and neck. Steve had ignored it, dark eyes focused intently on his face. “Drink, Little Riot.”

And drink Eddie did.

Right there on his knees, he’d sunk his fangs into the thin skin of Steve’s wrist, pulling a breathy sigh from his Stars’ lips that sounded like absolution to his ears, and drank of him, luxuriating in the blessing he’d been granted. Steve always tasted like Habital sin, like divine favor–an incredible delicacy, impossible to explain–heaven on his tongue and slithering down his throat to settle in his stomach; an empyrean boon from the single deity-made-flesh whose altar he would ever deign to worship at. Every pull was a revelation, an explosion in his veins as he hovered in a fuzzy space, quiet whining noises spilling from his throat between swallows of Steve. He didn’t dare touch, it had felt blasphemous to reach out and grab hold of his Stars in that moment, and so he’d leaned forward on trembling thighs to press his mouth further against the tender flesh of the inside of Steve’s wrist until he’d had his fill.

When Steve had finally pulled his wrist away, Eddie had felt drunk, floaty and dreamy as the hand once fisted in his hair loosened. He’d whined at the loss, but the way those clever, magical fingers carded through his curls had felt just as marvelous and he’d immediately swayed into the touch. A firm but gentle grip on his jaw had pulled his head upwards, forcing his gaze to focus through the dreamlike, fuzzy warm space, and Eddie had moaned softly when Steve’s eyes had locked to his own.

“There’s my good boy.”

Eddie subtly shakes his head, cheeks flaming red as he yanks himself back into the present. He pulls his hair in front of his face, hiding away from the knowing eyes of Arlene as she shoots him a sideways glance from where she’s washing the charcoal remnants of his latest failure down the garbage disposal. He’d taken more blood from Steve this morning than he has previously, and as a result his appearance is the closest to human it’s been since he’s escaped the Upside Down on the heels of Steve’s Odyssian quest. His ears are still pointed, but there’s less length to them now, the tips only slightly poking out from the curly mass of his hair. His wings are gone, although he can feel them lurking somewhere underneath, and he knows if he needed to he could call them to the surface–although he’s not sure exactly how he would do such a thing. His tail is finally small enough that he can wrap it around his waist under his clothes, completely able to be hidden from prying eyes. He’s lost the protruding lower fangs, although the upper ones are stubbornly persistent and poke out from between his lips, especially when he smiles. His skin is less gray and more of a familiar tone, albeit slightly paler than he thinks he remembers it being. His fingers and hands are still discolored, like he’d dunked them in ink but it’s several days and many vigorous hand-scrubbing sessions after the act. His feet are still the same, although they’re starting to look slightly less inhuman, the talons shrinking down in the tiniest of increments.

Arlene thinks his feet are cute.

He’d stumbled into the kitchen that morning, bleary-eyed and searching for two things: Steve and caffeine. Instead of Steve, he’d found her waiting for him. He’d been off balance and on guard immediately–he’d spent the night in the guest room Steve set up for him for only the second time, and not having Steve with him right away in the morning was completely throwing him off. He’d whined involuntarily, scampering back away from her, his talons clicking on the tile. He’d hissed and spat, cursing the loud noises while she’d simply laughed and had poured a second mug from the carafe of hot coffee he’d only noticed when she’d grabbed it off the counter. Her thick, expensive-looking white button front was undone to the fourth notch, and he could see her dark red bra peeking out from the edges when she’d moved. She’d had the shirt tucked into a pair of black wide leg trousers and her feet had been bare. He’d been surprised to see how half-put together she’d looked, but had decided not to comment on it.

“So- Sorry,” he’d muttered, burying his nose and flaming face in the steam, “not a mornin’ person.” “Fair enough,” she’d replied, “Steve and I are the same–once we’re up, we’re up, but that doesn’t mean we’re morning people either. I certainly don’t want anyone talking to me before I’ve had my first dose of caffeine.” She’d raised her mug in a casual toast, grinning. He’d made a non-committal noise in reply, taking a sip of the bitter yet ridiculously smooth coffee, blinking in surprise. He’d pulled the mug away from his face and stared down into the dark liquid as though it would disclose all its secrets. “French Press. I use whole dark roast beans, ground ‘em myself. Good, right?” He nodded back. “Ye- Yeah. Really good.” “So tell me,” she’d pried, “what had you cursin’ like a sailor in my kitchen just now?” Eddie had winced at the question, ashamed at his reaction to his own body, “M- My talons. They’re no- noisy an- and cumbersome. Monstrous. I don’t like them.” “I dunno, kid,” she’d chortled, grinning at him as she’d leaned against the sink clutching her mug, “I think they’re kinda’ cute, actually.” Thankfully, he hadn’t been drinking at the time, otherwise he’d probably have sprayed coffee out of his nose and all across the pristine kitchen in his shock.

Steve and Arlene both have the same ability to knock him completely off-kilter with their casual words and charm and he doesn’t know if he’ll ever be able to build up a defense against it. He’s not used to people leaning into his space, more accustomed to them recoiling from him in disgust or fear, but neither Arlene nor Steve seem to have such compunction when it comes to him. He remembers Steve leaning away from him before, but it had never been recoiling–just a retreat to regroup rather than an attempt to flee in disgust. That morning in the kitchen was pleasant, even if it had left him feeling off-kilter. Arlene is wonderful, and he really likes her. She’s warm and playful but she also has a core of steel that he admires. He can see where Steve gets it from, and he finds himself at ease in her presence just as much as he is in Steve’s–although in a different way.

The primal part of him–that bestial nature–calls her Steve’s dam, a matriarch and someone to fall in line under. She’s someone to impress, to prove himself to. And while he hates old-fashioned dating expectations like… asking permission to date someone’s daughter or whatever… The gender reversal of his current situation somehow softens the blow to his pride for falling into it. He’s impressing a boy’s mom, trying to convince her that he might be a worthy suitor… it’s kind of working for him, as much as he hates to admit it, even to himself. His bestial side purrs with satisfaction every time Arlene compliments him or jokes around with him, taking it as proof that he’s being accepted; that he’s being approved of, slowly being brought into their colony by the matriarch. Apparently, that’s a big deal. At his core, he can feel that it is, as strange as it may be. Although he’s using human terms now, the primal bits still run tandem to his own thoughts, lining up and offering context for his intrusive instinctive reactions that continue to crop up.

He thinks dating and his instincts croon back courtship, which to his cheesy romantic brain sounds like something out of one of those terrible bodice rippers that he would sometimes read and never admit to anyone, even on pain of death. His DM-focused mind crafts a whole slew of potential methods to continue said courtship–most of which he’s far too cowardly to ever attempt acting on, because Jesus Christ the shit he comes up with is cringe-worthy at worst and horrendously corny at best. Steve’s so experienced with the whole dating thing, and he’d hate to make an absolute fool of himself in front of him, because while yeah, he’s slept with girls before and he’s definitely not a virgin, he’s never actually… dated anyone before. And fuck, if he doesn’t want to date the hell out of Steve.

Court Steve, woo Steve.

Mate Steve, his primal side rumbles in approval as their thoughts align perfectly.

Steve had joined them maybe five minutes after Arlene nearly made him repaint the kitchen with coffee, already dressed for his shift at Family Video. He’d easily slid into their conversation, avoiding the coffee in favor of a glass of water and a fresh orange. The scent of the citrus had burst into the air when Steve’s thumb punched through the skin, the oils mingling in the most intoxicating way with his own natural aroma. He’d already smelled amazing that morning; his expensive shampoo mixing with his delectable scent, which was crisper–less of the sweat, salt, musk and more of the buckwheat, peppercorn, wood-smoke and shit his mouth is watering just remembering it–due to having just showered after his customary morning workout. When he’d taken his first bite of the juicy flesh of the orange, white teeth breaking into the fruit and a rivulet of the sweet nectar had oozed over the swell of his plush lower lip, Eddie had to fight the instinctive urge to chase it with his tongue. He’d wanted so badly… he would swear his resolve was being tested if he believed in a higher power.

Eddie had made the mistake of trying to watch Steve’s workout once, during the first 24 hours after his first blood feeding when his primal mind was still in the early stages of melding with his rational one.

What had followed in that singular experience was Eddie witnessing a sweat soaked, delicious-smelling Steve pulling up the hem of his soaking wet shirt and wiping his face, flashing Eddie a tantalizing view of his soft, scarred stomach and sides as they had flexed, hinting at the solid muscle beneath a healthy layer of fat that had made his mouth go dryer than the Sahara. And since there had been no mercy in the world for Eddie goddamn Munson, Steve had then gone ahead and broken Eddie’s brain when he’d pulled the damn thing off entirely, tossing the soaked shirt to the ground near Eddie’s feet. He’d then shattered an already broken brain further, flashing Eddie a grin and a wink before he’d casually thrown himself back into his vigorous routine like he hadn’t just utterly destroyed the rotation of Eddie’s earth on its axis. His mouth was no longer a desert but an ocean the more he’d stared at the exposed expanse of his chest, thick with glorious hair and flexing with each movement of the strong, corded muscle of his arms. Saliva had flooded the spaces between his tongue and his teeth with every ripple of muscle beneath the skin across his back, twin scars running parallel on either side of his spine where he’d been dragged across the rocky ground of the Upside Down and mirroring the placement of his own wings. It all had him fighting back the drool that threatened to escape as his eyes had tracked each bead of sweat that rolled down his golden skin, connecting moles and freckles like the sexiest game of connect-the-dots he’d ever seen and wanted to trace with his tongue… it had quickly become far too much and with a squeak, Eddie had stuttered out a lame excuse about throwing Steve’s shirt in the laundry for him and grabbed it before absolutely booking it out of the workout space.

He had not in fact put it in the laundry. He’d locked himself in the bathroom, pressed the sweaty, disgusting shirt to his face and inhaled, moaning brazenly. Steve’s scent had been so strong and he’d wanted to suck the essence of him from the fabric, rub it all over himself, bury himself within its confines to exist there forever. In the moment, he’d been a mindless, drooling, needy mess and he’d been helpless to resist the impulsive urges that had washed over him. He’d stuffed a handful of the shirt into his mouth, sucking shamelessly on the fabric and groaning around the taste that exploded on his tongue–salty-musky-masculine-Steve–his eyes fluttering behind their lids as he’d sunk deep deep deep into a floaty space full of Steve-bliss-Steve. He’d staggered back against the door, frantically undoing the buttons on his fly with his free hand, hopelessly fumbling as the other kept the disgusting shirt pressed over his nose and his stuffed, drooling mouth. His mind had been empty of everything but Steve and the need as he’d shoved his jeans and boxers down just enough for his throbbing dick to spring free, hard and leaking. He’d never jerked off so frantically before in his life, never felt so desperate before that moment, seeking his release like he would die if he didn’t. It had been just this side of too dry, too harsh, but fuck if that almost didn’t make it better–made it easier to imagine someone else’s hands around the hot skin of his cock, easier to imagine the fabric in his mouth pressing on his tongue was someone else’s fingers instead, just as salty but there with intent, forcing his jaw open and dragging his whines out of him with a domineering kindness. His swirling fantasy had made his cock jerk in his hand, all of his heightened senses completely overwhelmed and overstimulated. He’d let his other hand fall from its grip on the sweaty t-shirt, the fabric dropping from his face to settle against his upper chest as he’d sunk fingers into his own curls just that side of too painful, pulling hard against his own roots as he’d imagined thicker digits, a wider palm forcing his head back—

He’d never come so hard or so fast or so much in his life. (He’d gotten cum on the shirt, for chrissakes!)

He’d kept it, to his shame–hidden away in the guestroom Steve had made up for him and that had remained unused until Arlene returned to the Harrington house. He’d found it again last night, and ohhh, it had taken all of his willpower to resist pressing his nose to the fabric again, because fuck it had still smelled like the two of them.

He shivers, dragging himself back to the present moment before he completely descends into depraved territory, chewing on the ends of his hair that he’s still holding up in front of his flaming face. He shifts awkwardly in place, grateful for the thick denim and the length of the shirt and plaid flannel he has tied around his waist working as a shield to hide behind. He shoots his gaze to Arlene, noting that she’s still scrubbing the pan in the sink. She’s clearly almost done though and he exhales; he’s got to stop thinking about all of this before she catches him when he’s lost in his thoughts at a very inappropriate moment. He may have accepted his attraction to Steve only very recently, but. He’s only human–or, er. Human-adjacent? He has a fully functional, fairly robust libido, anyway, and Steve rings all his goddamn bells, okay!? Can anyone blame him, really?

He’s still embarrassed that it took him as long as it did to realize that he’s at least a little bit gay (at least when it comes to Steve) with how furiously he’d jerked off to the scent and taste of the guy’s sweaty shirt, but he supposes it’s not the most embarrassing thing he’s ever done, considering half of that episode was driven by instinctual impulse. And it’s not like it was bad; quite the opposite, really. One of the best jerk off sessions he’s had, like. Ever. He’s not had the chance to indulge like that again, but he’s wondering if he might be able to sneak one in. He’d dreamt about Steve last night and awakened this morning hard and wanting, but as he’d laid in bed pent up and desperate, he’d hesitated. He’d been fully cognizant, no instinct driving his actions, no excuses to hide behind. If he’d reached down and taken matters into his own hands, could he manage to look Steve in the eye without giving it all away? Jesus fucking–how goddamn humiliating would that be?

Oh, good morning Steve, what’s that? Oh, you can tell I had a furious wank to the thoughts of your ass that won’t quit and that you can bounce a fucking quarter off of? That I thought about you holding me down and touching my dick while I came so hard all over myself that I swear I saw fucking God?

Shitting Christ, he might as well just go kill himself now and save them all the effort.

Objectively, Steve is pretty. He’s masculine, but he’s also pretty in a very distinct way that shouldn’t work and yet it does on Steve. He’s an exercise in dichotomy: square jaw, strong Adam’s apple, but his lips are so pink, so soft, so plush, and his hair is so silky and is always styled long enough to grab or pull back from his face, immaculately swooped so delicately across a high brow. He boasts broad shoulders, a hairy chest, narrow hips and a decidedly male build but the way his hip cocks out to the side when he’s feeling bitchy, the fearless way he wears soft pinks, the way he has his nails painted bright colors is so earnestly effeminate. He’s the quintessential epitome of a young Midwestern dad, but it’s the way he scolds everyone around him that has him straddling the line between dad and exasperated single mother. Steve wears this femininity easily and without fear, the softness riding tandem with his hard angles and masculine allure and there’s something so enticing about that to Eddie. The comfort in his masculinity that Steve has which allows him to so proudly play in the femininity sandbox without caring about anyone crying faggot. It’s a far cry from the boy he remembers from his high school reign, and Eddie can’t help but fall further into his love for this man who’s grown so much.

“Hey, Eddie? You awake in there, kiddo?”

He jolts from his thoughts, twitching as he jerks his gaze down to the curious oceanic eyes of Steve’s mother. She peers up at him, one eyebrow arched in question. He feels himself blush furiously, heat flooding his face and racing down his neck.

“So- Sorry! Were you saying something?”

Arlene snorts, shaking her head, “Nah. You’re clearly distracted. We’ve been at it since I got back from my appointment with the financial advisor this morning and I don’t think you’ve really been checked in at all this whole time. Are you okay, Eddie?”

He nods. It’s not like he can explain his ridiculous horn-dog issues to the mother of the object of said horn-dog issues, that’s just… wrong on so many levels.

“I’m alright. Just thinking about things, sorry I’m so distracted.”

“Let me guess… you’re thinking about my son, hm?”

Eddie sputters, the furious blush going darker so quickly he feels a little lightheaded. “I–!”

“Oh, hush!” Arlene laughs, “It’s alright, it’s not like I’m mad about it or anything. Stevie deserves to have a partner who’s just as obsessed with him as he is with them.”

Something about that statement feels profound, and he makes note of it. It feels like a major hint, like Arlene is indicating to him that Steve is definitely “obsessed” with Eddie, and that she would approve of a union between the two of them should he be as “obsessed” with Steve in turn. As though such a thing would be a hardship. He scoffs.

“Find it kind of ridiculous that more people aren’t obsessed with him, to be honest,” he confesses quietly, sheepishly scratching at his chin with a shortened talon. “I seriously don’t understand why all those girls ever let him go, he’s… he’s just so good, y’know?” He sighs, the sound coming out dreamy but he can’t find it in himself to give a shit. “Like, honestly? Perfect boyfriend material. All of them are idiots for not hanging onto that; hell, I think I was more than halfway in love with him before I even knew I was even into him or anything? He makes it so easy to fall in love with him.”

He abruptly clicks his jaw shut, eyes huge as he suddenly realizes what he’s just admitted aloud; his head snaps towards Arlene so fast he swears he hears his neck make the most horrifying sound as his terrified gaze meets the amused oceanic eyes of his kitchen companion.

“Yo- You won’t say anything, right?”

She shrugs. “Don’t look at me, kid. I didn’t hear anything,” she winks and he exhales a shaky, relieved breath.

Thank Christ for Arlene Ellsworth, the realest motherfucker on the planet.

“Since you’re so distracted, I’m not going to bother trying to teach you anything else today,” she says with a crooked smile, patting him on the shoulder as she steps past him. “Maybe Stevie will have better luck coaching you through the cooking process than I’ve had.”

Eddie snorts, doubtful that he’d be able to pay attention to anything beyond how hot he’d look, all confident and competent while trying to walk Eddie through the steps of making fucking scrambled eggs or some shit. Arlene is washing her hands in the sink, turning her head to glance over her shoulder at him as she turns off the water with her elbow.

“I’m probably going to make sandwiches for a late lunch, would you like one?”

He nods, grateful. “Yeah, that’d be real nice. Thank you, Arlene.”

She finishes wiping her hands off on a small towel, tossing it over one shoulder. “No problem, Eddie. I’ll let you know when I’m all done. Why don’t you go sit down for a while,” she says, offering him an out, “you seem pretty tired.”

“Mmn,” he agrees. “I might take a nap or something.” He is pretty tired, although it’s probably just left over exhaustion from how much his body has changed today. Even with the consumption of the blood–Henderson was clearly right in that it’s basically his spell component–he still gets majorly fatigued with every little bit of transformation his body undergoes. His limbs feel distinctly lead-like today, and his mind is sluggish. In hindsight, that’s probably why he’s had such a hard time keeping his thoughts focused on Arlene’s attempts to teach him and off of his decidedly not PG thoughts of Steve.

“No problem, hon,” Arlene replies absently, already in the process of pulling the sourdough out of the breadbox and heading for the fridge. She’s clearly focused on her self-appointed task and Eddie beats an easy retreat, lumbering back into the living room to curl up on the couch. He immediately buries himself in the blanket that smells like him and Steve; the blanket they’d been using to huddle close together under when they watched late night TV together since the first night out of the Upside Down. It’s comforting, the way the scent of Eddie-and-Steve swirls up around him and his eyes flutter closed as he settles back against the plush softness of the couch, just letting himself breathe.

He must have drifted off at some point, because between one moment and the next, he’s being gently shaken awake by Arlene, a plate on the coffee table laden with sandwiches that look delicious enough to make his mouth water and his stomach rumble. It makes him flush with embarrassment and happiness at the care she shows him, and Arlene laughs but she doesn’t say anything. Instead, she takes her own plate and half of a sandwich to the armchair she seems to have claimed as hers, clicking on the TV to some late afternoon rerun of a game show he’s probably seen before but can’t remember what it’s called. He picks up his own plate, snatching up a sandwich and digging in.

It’s delicious, and he tells Arlene as such in between huge bites, scarfing it down like he’s afraid someone will try to take it away from him. She waves off the compliment, but smiles regardless, which seems like a win to Eddie. He eats another sandwich a few minutes later, this time much slower.

They sit together in companionable silence, steadily making the sandwiches disappear and watching bad daytime TV reruns as the clock ticks away on the mantle. Several episodes later, Eddie’s sharp ears perk up at the sound of a key in the lock of the front door. He straightens in his seat, attracting Arlene’s attention as his whole body turns towards the door. He’s not even bothering to mask his excitement at the prospect of Steve coming home–

“Wow, you’re really gone on my kid, aren’t you?”

He sputters, flushing red at Arlene’s teasing tone before yanking his hair in front of his face with a pitiful whine and hiding behind it in embarrassment. She laughs, the sound quiet even through her tiny snorts and he feels himself relaxing momentarily until the creak of the hinges on the front door pulls his attention back to his Stars coming home and then Steve’s voice is booming in the foyer—

“Goddamnit you little shits—don’t just fucking–! Robin, do you see this crap? Why do I even bother?”

“Dunno, dingus,” and ohhhh, he’s missed her snark! “They’re your children, wrangle them better, Mister Mom.”

His only warning is a thundering of footsteps before the living room is invaded by a whole swarm of teenage dorks–all save one–staring flabbergasted at him for barely a second before there’s shouting and lunging at Eddie. Between one moment and the next, he’s surrounded, crowding him where he sits on the couch. Eddie can’t help the laugh that is pulled out of him in a loud bark like thunder; the frenetic energy is familiar and fills him with a sense of rightness he’s missed: his sheepies are back where they belong.

The bestial side of him rumbles in delight at the sight of the kids, warm with affection when he sees them all safe and sound. They’re more Steve’s pups than his sheepies with all the history and the extra faces he’s not immediately recognizing, but the ones he is familiar with means that they’re back. We are Co-parents he can almost hear the animal part of him croon out in the recesses of his hindbrain; so, so set on adopting the role with relish. They are always going to be Steve’s first, but he’s claimed them as his own, even well before he’d had a primal split. Eddie has long thought of himself as a shepherd for the weird and the lonely lost sheep of the world–a Gandalf figure dispensing wisdom and guiding the Fellowship on the right path–and Hellfire had been his safe haven, the port in the storm where he could usher in those he’d taken under his wing. He’d done that with Sinclair and Wheeler and Henderson… Lady Applejack too, to some extent, although Henderson is the only one that’s truly theirs–they’re properly co-parenting that one, no doubt there–but the rest of the kids (Steve’s cloud of pups his bestial side rumbles) are under their watch, too. The idea that these brave shitheads are both of their responsibility now makes the primal part of him preen with satisfaction–that he and Steve are tied in this way, intrinsically by their bonds with these kids–once strictly Steve’s has become Theirs.

“Screw you, Robs, how many times do I gotta tell y’all to quit it with the mom crap?” Steve’s sharp, bitchy tone pulls Eddie from his thoughts, immediately quieting the gratified sub-vocal rumbling that seems to have started in his chest without him noticing. Whoops, embarrassing. The kids are still talking around him, yammering over each other, Sinclair and Wheeler arguing with Lady Applejack about who should get the honor–nay, privilege–to talk to him first. It’s a bit of an ego boost, Eddie’s not going to lie.

“Hey,” Arlene interjects loudly from her perch in the armchair, a pout plainly evident in her playful tone, “What’s wrong with mom crap, Steve?”

The pups–argh, kids–all jolt from where they’ve been crowding around Eddie and shoving at each other to stare shamelessly at Arlene. They’d clearly been so single-mindedly focused on him that they’d completely missed the only other person in the room. He snorts a laugh because fuck, these assholes are so goddamn smart but holy shit can they be riproaringly dumb about the most common-sense crap sometimes. Steve and Robin have finally darkened the doorway, and Eddie grins at the sight of Steve’s hands already on his hips. It’s a stance he’s seen Arlene take more than once in the twenty four hours he’s known her. What a mom indeed–he comes by it honestly.

“You have a mom?!”

“Wow,” Lady Applejack drawls, staring at Sinclair the elder with the most disgusted expression Eddie has seen crawl across her face, “I knew you were dumb, but that’s just sad. How do you function in society?”

Savage. He fucking loves Erica Sinclair.

“Erica,” Steve warns, earning him an eye roll and a huff. “Of course I have a mom,” he addresses Sinclair the elder, “the hell, dude? Did you think I just… sprang from my dad’s skull fully intact or something?”

“–did you really just liken yourself to Athena, Stevie?” Eddie can’t help but ask, delighted and charmed by the blatant evidence of Steve’s secret nerd-dom.

“Didn’t even know you knew who that was,” he hears Wheeler grumble. Eddie clocks the two faces standing side-by-side that he doesn’t recognize sharing a covert glance. Nearly simultaneously–like Louise and Lisa Burns but ganglier and less creepy–they turn their eyes to Wheeler. Interesting.

Now don’t get him twisted, Eddie is well aware now that Steve is a certified dork and absolutely a nerd, even if the former jock tries to hide it from the little shit brigade. How does he know this? Easy. He’d gone snooping while Steve had been at work during his first 72 hours of Steve-less-ness, bored and desperately missing his Stars something fierce. He’d expected to find the usual things, embarrassing porn or a crusty sock, maybe some baby pictures or something. So imagine his surprise and delight when he’d flung open the closet in Steve’s room and discovered a veritable treasure trove of geek shit hidden away from prying eyes.

Eddie learned that day that Steve is a fantasy-and-sci-fi novel enthusiast. There’s a small bookshelf hidden in his closet filled with Le Guin and Steven King; Asimov, Anne Rice, and Scott Card; L’Engle, Douglas Adams, and Beagle. His interest in Greek mythology is subtle but present, his copies of Homer’s Odyssey and Iliad are tucked in with the other books and both are well-worn and dog-eared. Steve also has copies of The Hobbit and The Fellowship of the Ring, The Hobbit sitting proudly on his bedside table while The Fellowship is on Steve’s desk. Both look like they’ve been deeply loved; the bindings are loose from frequent use and the text along the spine is worn away to practically nothing. When he’d picked up the copy of The Hobbit, Eddie hadn’t been totally shocked to see that the name written on the inside of the cover read Dustin Henderson, but what was surprising was the placement of the bookmarks in both books. Steve was nearly finished with The Hobbit, and halfway through The Fellowship. (Tolkien isn’t for everyone, Eddie knows this more than most; he’d devoured The Silmarillion when even some of the more dedicated fans can’t slog through it, but… but Steve seems to have persisted. It only goes to show how much he loves his kids for all he huffs and puffs about them.) It was a surprise, though, because he knows Steve is a slow reader. He’d confessed to Eddie once when they were having a lazy evening after Steve’s shift–he’d been reading more of that one book aloud to Eddie as they’d laid together on the couch–that reading isn’t easy for him; that the words sometimes jump around on the page and it’s only gotten worse after his multiple head traumas. (The discovery that Steve wears glasses to help him with his worsening nearsightedness had shaken the foundation of his world—nope no Eddie we’re not going there today not right now shelve the sexy teacher librarian Steve fantasies before you descend into madness—)

Anyway, Eddie also discovered that Steve adores Star Wars. He’s got the VHS releases tucked away in his closet too, clearly cared for and in excellent condition. There are several pristine posters leaning against the wall of his closet, preserved behind cheap frames. He’s also clearly got a thing for Han, judging by the Han Solo Kenner Action Figures Eddie found, perfect in their packaging. That he even has the Wave-M Carbonite Han Figure says something Eddie’s not sure he wants to examine. (Eddie will be the first to admit he doesn’t really get the appeal of Solo; the guy’s just a wanna-be-badass, fake-nonchalant, cooler-than-you rogue riding around in a cool van but like with a fucking wizard or some shit painted on the side of it–metaphorically, of course–but he just. He keeps failing his charisma and stealth checks, man! So lame–Luke is just objectively cooler. There’s just something about the reluctant hero’s journey–his growth, his change, the triumph over impulsivity, over anger and hatred that pulls him in.)

Steve also clearly has a thing for Star Trek, which is interesting. (Eddie’s not a huge Trek guy himself but he’s heard of the weird rivalry that’s kind of sprung up between the “Trekkies” and the Star Wars folks. There seems to be an unspoken rule that you can’t have both, but Steve continues to defy expectations.) Eddie finds all three films on VHS in the closet too, although The Wrath of Khan is clearly the most beloved of the three, (Steve even has a second copy of it, still sealed in its packaging,) as well as a VHS of Space Seed. There’s a collection of other Star Trek VHS tapes and when Eddie had glanced briefly at the spines, he’d realized they were episodes. There’s also a fairly substantial collection of official-looking Star Trek comics as well as a shitton of small, handmade booklets carefully stored away in nondescript shoe-boxes. The booklets are all clearly photocopied from a source material and well-loved, the amateur staple bindings slightly out of line and the pages a little crooked. Unlike the official looking comics, he’d guessed by the contents of the little handmade booklets that they’re probably not official material. He’s pretty sure that Kirk and Spock never actually hooked up in the show. It may have had the first on-screen interracial kiss, but it wasn’t that progressive– (He’d flushed darkly at the content of some of them, but hell, the stories and the art is good, dammit!)

“Stevie,” Arlene’s voice is absolutely delighted and the sound of it yanks Eddie from his memories, pulling his attention fully to her, “are these your kids?” she finishes saying as she unfolds herself from the armchair and comes to stand in front of the group of the little dickheads. Henderson, Sinclair the elder, and Wheeler gape openly at her, but Lady Applejack straightens and eyes her with something like interest in her eyes–nay, dare he call it curiosity?–while the other two kids he’s never seen before watch Arlene warily, skittish and defensive. Eddie examines them with Arlene’s distracting presence holding their attention, his eyes fixated on their truly tragic haircuts. He’s willing to bet that the taller one with the messy bowl cut is Baby Byers–the infamous Will the Wise he’s heard so much about. (He definitely sees the wet cat resemblance that Steve mentioned the other day–the kid just has this sad look about him, like a lonely animal at the pound.) However, the other one with the fuzzy grown-out buzz cut..? …he’s got no clue, actually.

“Oh no,” Eddie’s ears twitch as they pick up Robin’s horrified-sounding whisper, “Steve what the fuck why didn’t you tell me your mom was hot?”

Oh? He was definitely not supposed to hear that. Whoops. He tries to tune them out, but it’s hard when he’s suddenly desperately interested in knowing more about what Robin means.

“What the hell?” Steve hisses back at her, his voice just as quiet, “Ew, Robin! Don’t creep on my mom, I refuse to acknowledge you as a step-mother.”

Robin giggle-snorts, sounding a little bit like a deranged goose to his ears and for a moment he worries that he’s not the only one who’s heard their quiet conversation, but with a quick glance around the room it becomes clear that Steve and Robin’s exchange was spoken too softly for anyone other than him to have picked up on. Eddie’s relieved that Robin hadn’t accidentally outed herself… he’d had an assumption about her, but he’d never gotten confirmation before he’d kicked the bucket. He’ll let her know he’s safe at some point. He refocuses on the kids' introductions to Arlene.

“—and I’m Dustin, Steve’s best friend. It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Harrington.”

“Oh, yuck,” Arlene grimaces, “Dustin, kiddo, please call me Arlene, or if you must, Ms. Ellsworth is fine. I divorced Steve’s asshole dad, so it’s just the two of us now.”

“Oh.” Dustin blinks wide eyes, clearly processing the new information.

“Same goes for the rest of you, alright? Arlene or Ms. Ellsworth.”

“Where’ve you been, then, Arlene?” Lady Applejack says, her words sharp and sounding more like she’s asking a boy about his intentions with her daughter. Eddie’s stunned.

“Erica!”

“What?” she snarks back, her tone subtly softer as she addresses Steve, “Just wondering why I’ve never seen her around before now. Y’know, since you got that third concussion last year.”

“Jesus,” Steve hisses, a flush spreading across his cheeks. Eddie clocks it for what it is: he’s happy with Erica’s metaphorical marking of territory, her protective statement.

“No, it’s a fair question.” Arlene nods to Lady Applejack, meeting the younger girl’s eyes. “I very recently took over Ellsco, my family’s Fortune 500 company. It’s been a bit of a power struggle for the past few years, which has kept me away from home more often than not. Do I regret leaving Steve here to handle all of this alone? Absolutely.” she says, sincerity vehement in every word, her gaze never leaving Lady Applejack’s face. “But I’m here now, and I plan on sticking around as much as possible, for as long as Steve wants me around. It doesn’t make up for the time we lost, or the mistakes I made by not being here for him, but it’s a start.”

There’s a long stretch of silence where Arlene and Lady Applejack just stare each other down, unflinching, unblinking, but then Lady Applejack relaxes. She turns and looks up at Steve, tilting her head.

“I think Arlene can take over your ice cream for life duties, don’t you?” she drawls, her lips just barely twitching up into a sly smirk.

Steve blinks rapidly at her words before sputtering out a loud, snorting laugh that’s quickly joined in by Robin and Dustin and eventually the soft giggles of a smug, glowing Lady Applejack. Everyone else just exchanges a glance barring Arlene, who just watches her son with a fond, loving expression. Confused and feeling out of the loop, Eddie meets Sinclair the elder’s eyes and the kid shrugs, a chagrined look on his face as he mouths something that Eddie translates to “Scoops Troop,” whatever the fuck that means.

When their laughter finally dies, Arlene extends a hand out to the small, preteen girl.

“I accept your deal, Miss Sinclair. You drive a fair bargain, and I am happy to provide such a service for one of my son’s compatriots.”

Lady Applejack raises her chin as she looks the taller, older woman in the eyes.

“Well, glad we could settle that, then,” she says decisively and shakes Arlene’s hand. It looks like a really solid, firm handshake, and Eddie finds himself feeling a lot like a fish out of water. He has no idea how the hell they got here, or what the hell is even happening, but he’s just gonna see where the tide takes him at this point.

“So Steve, are you gonna change your last name too?” Sinclair the elder asks, easily changing the subject like the entire previous what-the-fuck exchange didn’t just happen. These fucking kids, man…

“Nah, too much trouble,” Steve shrugs, just… rolling with it, easy as anything. Eddie hates how he finds that hot. “Just like all of you are since you weaseled the entire secret of Eddie’s existence out of Dustin today and cornered me at work!”

“You gotta admit, Steve,” Robin chirps, “it was pretty slick of them, though.”

“I don’t give a shit if it was slick or not, Robs!” Steve curses, his whole body tense with protective energy. Jesus H. Christ, Eddie wants to lick him from head to toe.

“This whole,” he gestures widely and erratically with his hands, “thing with you guys just showing up like this could put Eddie’s entire situation at risk! He’s still wanted at the moment, or have you little geniuses all conveniently forgotten about that little tidbit?”

“My Dad says he is almost finished with the Government Spooks,” Fuzzy Buzz Cut kid speaks up, pronouncing their words with a disdainful precision that makes Eddie think they’re mimicking the way they’ve heard them said by someone else–which in turn makes him think that maybe they’d grown up without much interaction with others and have had to learn by mirroring behavior. Which: concerning. “Eddie will be ex-on-er-ated soon.”

“Yeah! So it’ll be fine, Steve!” Dustin chimes in, his attitude just as ridiculous as ever, a wide, gummy smile on his smug face, his hands perching on his hips in a mirror pose to match Steve, only his attitude rings of victory rather than reprimand. It’s an interesting distinction, and Eddie’s eyes bounce between them as his heart thuds heavily in his chest, over-spilling with all his love.

“I- I mean, it’s probably not going to be much longer, anyway,” Probably Baby Byers says quietly, shuffling in place, “Hop’s pretty determined, and since he’s known um, Eddie is alive for a while now it’s probably made him more determined.”

“Not sure about that, kid,” Eddie snorts, finally speaking up and grinning lopsidedly at Bad Bowl Cut Kid, “Chief Hopper and I have an uh… tenuous history, to say the least.”

“Oh, with the dealing?” Henderson chirps.

Eddie whips his head around to shoot a panicked glare at the kid, peeking at Arlene in the corner of his vision. Shit. He hadn’t ever wanted her to know about his sordid history as Rick’s gofer, the resident dealer of Hawkins’ sordid party favors–that’s almost as bad as her knowing about that last job his dad fucking tricked him into doing. He’s not ashamed of his time as a bar-back, or the other odd tasks he took on for some cash along the way, but the drugs and the robbery with his dad and fucking CJ and Toby… the fire, goddamn Officer Moore. Chief Hopper isn’t a bad guy, Eddie knows this. He’s got a vague recollection of the guy being nice to him when he was in lock up before Wayne posted his bail, even letting him use the phone in his office to call Paige. He doesn’t remember much of what the guy said at the time, but he does know he’d been trying to be nice. However, the drug dealing Eddie had taken up in the aftermath of all of that didn’t exactly improve an already tenuous relationship.

“Uhh, yeah,” he’s forced to admit out loud. He can feel Arlene’s eyes on him, but she doesn’t say anything.

“Oh, do not worry about that,” Buzz Cut chimes in, a happy tone to their voice, “my Dad enjoys Purple Palm Tree Delight.”

Bad Bowl Cut laughs, “That’s true! I heard him tell Jon the other day when they were smoking together that he used to go straight to some guy named Rick when the memories got too bad and the booze couldn’t calm his mind because he refused to get his weed from anyone other than the source.”

“Rick?” Arlene interjects, a curious note to her voice. She tilts her head, “are you talking about Richard Lipton, by chance?”

Eddie blinks, still trying to process the fact that fucking Chief goddamn Hopper was–is?–a pothead, and that Buzz Cut is apparently his kid? Bad Bowl Cut is definitely Baby Byers, though, especially if he’s mentioning a “Jon” with that much familial fondness. He can only think of one Jon, and that’s Jonathan Byers.

He nods in answer to Arlene’s question.

“Hm. I knew his older brother before he went to Vietnam. Went missing in action unfortunately, which absolutely destroyed the family.” She looks down, blinking rapidly, like she’s trying not to cry. “He was a quiet kid with a very green thumb,” she says softly, “Good with math, too. I’m not surprised he turned his horticulture hobby into something he could make some money off of.”

“He was arrested in late April,” Eddie says, “uhh, got him on possession charges. Got a few months on the inside, but nothing too bad.”

She hums, nodding, a contemplative look on her face. It’s clear she’s checked out of the conversation, turning away from their little group and losing herself in her thoughts. He hopes she’s okay.

“See, Eddie?” Henderson chimes in, pulling Eddie’s attention back with his smug-as-all-get-out attitude, “Like I told Steve, it’s gonna be just fine! Friends don’t lie, and we’re gonna make sure you can walk as a free man again.”

“Who’s this we you’re speaking of, shithead?” Steve gripes, pressing his wide palm down on top of Henderson’s cap and grinding down into the kid’s mess of curls. It pulls an indignant yelp from Henderson, who starts to flail and swing at Steve, trying fruitlessly to dislodge him.

“How did you even… how did you survive?” Wheeler bursts out, tactless as ever.

It’s like a Silence spell has been cast over the room with how quiet everyone gets. Eddie hates it. Wheeler however, just continues talking oblivious to the awkward tension building around everyone else.

“They told me you were dead,” he spits out, anger suddenly coloring his tone, “I was out in California and then on the road trip from Hell so I heard everything second hand, but they told me you died!”

Eddie nods. “I did.”

Wheeler pulls at his hair, making a frustrated wordless noise. “What the hell!? So, then, how are you here now? Did you crawl back out or something?”

“No.”

“An- And you guys,” he whirls on Buzz Cut and Baby Byers, who recoils slightly at the manic, angry expression that’s starting to crawl across Wheeler’s face, “you never like, sensed him? You knew Max was there, still alive, able to be saved… Why not Eddie?! Why didn’t you look?!”

“I–” Buzz Cut frowns, a furrow forming between their brow as they stare hard at Eddie. A muscle in their jaw jumps, but they say nothing further.

“Mike, I–” Baby Byers bites his lower lip, “I never–”

“Yeah,” Wheeler says, his tone cruel, mocking. “You never. Sure, Will. Whatever.”

Eddie files away the pained, yearning look that crosses Baby Byers face; an agonizingly familiar emotion settling behind his eyes. He’s seen the same thing in the mirror.

“So if you didn’t crawl out, what the hell happened then?”

“I was stuck there,” he shrugs, oddly calm. He feels almost… disconnected from his body, like he’s watching everything happen around him, witnessing Wheeler’s tantrum rather than experiencing it. “Something resurrected me. I… adapted. I was brought back here eventually, why does it matter?”

“Because I’m mad about it! Because I knew, I just knew that they were hiding something from me!”

“We aren’t hiding anything from you, Mike,” Steve says, his voice calm and soothing like cool river water, his words washing down Eddie’s spine in a gentle caress. His lashes flutter.

“Fuck you, Steve!”

“Whoa, Mike, what the hell?”

“And fuck you too, Dustin!” Wheeler snaps, “I know you think the sun shines out of Steve’s ass or whatever, but I knew that you guys let Steve leave Eddie behind! And you refused to tell me!”

“What are you talking about, Wheeler?” Buckley interjects, utter bafflement in her voice. “We didn’t let anyone do anything! Everything was collapsing, and Dustin’s fucking ankle was broken! We prioritized it!”

Absently, Eddie notices Arlene skirting the edges of the room, unnoticed by everyone else, to stand in the doorway of the kitchen. He scents the air, tasting salt water. He fights down the growl that threatens to spill out of his throat.

“There were three of you!” Wheeler shouts, gesturing grandly before he glares hatefully at Steve, a sneer on his face as he addresses the older man directly. “I know you just left Eddie there after he died in front of Dustin!” He turns away, glaring at everyone else, “You’re all just making excuses for him! I’m sick of it!”

Steve looks like he’s been kicked in the head, broken and lost.

Something inside of Eddie goes cold.

“Mike, Eddie said he’d died. And… Steve was hurt, too…” Baby Byers is trying to calm Wheeler down, his hand rubbing gently against the gangly teen’s arm, but Wheeler shoves the appendage away with a harsh jerk. Baby Byers recoils, flinching and clutching his hand to his chest with a wounded expression. Buzz Cut immediately tends to Baby Byers, shooting a venomous look at Wheeler that makes the hair on the back of Eddie’s neck stand on end.

Something tells him that for all they look like a strong wind could blow them over, Buzz Cut is dangerous.

Predator, his instincts scream at him.

“I–” Baby Byers looks like he’s about to cry.

“Dude!” Henderson snaps at Wheeler, “The hell is wrong with you? I’ll admit, I was pissed about leaving Eddie behind at first too, but. How the hell would he have gotten Eddie out?! Steve had also been ripped apart by the demobats, Mike! How could he have carried the sheer dead weight of another guy the same size as him?! It’s not- It’s not his fault!”

Steve straightens at Henderson’s words, light returning to his dimmed eyes just a bit.

Eddie loves Henderson for being their pup.

“Steve’s fucking useless, then!” Wheeler snarls back, shoulders up by his ears, lip curled back to flash his teeth and gums, “What good is a goddamn jock to the Party if he can’t even carry some fucking weight?! It’s not like he’s capable of actually contributing in any other way, aside from being a meat shield! Maybe he should have done us all a favor and just taken Eddie’s place to begin with!”

Steve flinches. Badly.

Eddie watches as all of the good that Henderson’s words had restored vanishes instantly.

Around him, there’s an eruption of outraged sound.

“Shut up, Mike! You don’t know anyth—” “Steve doesn’t deserve that, man! I’m a jock too—”

“Wheeler, what the hell is wrong with yo—”

Eddie doesn’t hear anything else. Not from Henderson or Sinclair or Buckley, and not from anyone else in the room. He’s completely focused on Steve. He takes in the way the other man is actively making himself smaller. His fingers are clenched into the meat of his own forearms, hard enough to bruise. His face is pale and drawn, eyes blank and unseeing as he stares at nothing, very clearly taking the cruel words Wheeler spat out to heart.

Eddie feels a deadly calm wash over him, because no one, absolutely no one, should ever make Steve–his Stars, his would-be-mate, his savior, his everything–look like this ever again.

“Wheeler.”

He’s not speaking loudly, but he completely silences the room as easily as if he’d been using a megaphone. He barely recognizes his own voice with the way his sub-vocal polyphonics have come back, his words echoing and intimidating. He unfolds himself from his perch on the couch, standing to his full height and towering over everyone in the room. He goes utterly still, completely motionless as he stares down at a dark haired teenager with eyes that are undoubtedly glowing just a little bit red. The kid’s face flickers with fear for a moment before it’s hidden behind false bravado. This is a pup he knows has started to idolize him for some frankly unfathomable reason–a pup who is blaming his longtime protector–a sire in all the ways that matter–for something he has absolutely no right to hold him accountable for.

“Apologize. Right now.”

“Why?” Wheeler argues back, petulant and disrespectful.

Eddie feels his upper lip pull back in a snarl, no doubt exposing his elongated, deadly teeth to the inhabitants of the room. A growl rumbles deep and loudly in his chest as he maintains eye contact with Michael Wheeler, unblinking and unmoving. He is Steve’s would-be-mate and he will defend that which is precious to him. He is unafraid to put these pups in their place if he must, because if these upstarts have decided Eddie is someone to be idolized above all others, then they must respect Eddie’s personal hierarchy–and Steve is the singular entity who sits at the top of his.

“Because you are wrong.” Eddie growls out, his voice low and tonal. “Apologize to Steve as is right or you will leave his den.”

“But–”

“My Stars broke down the gates of hell to carry me home again.”

He instinctively speaks the words in Sindarin, the way he’s imagined saying them since he’s dreamed them up–says them in the most romantic way possible. He clocks Baby Byers and Henderson going ramrod straight when he finishes his statement, clearly understanding the language enough to come up with a translation. Henderson’s posture relaxes, swaying slightly towards Steve, open but somewhat protective as he sets his jaw with something like satisfaction, while Byers’ eyes widen and his mouth drops open just so in an expression that Eddie wants to label pleased surprise.

Wheeler just squints at him as the silence in the room grows choking.

Eddie persists, rephrasing again in English.

“Steve came back for me,” he says, “He chose to come back, not knowing what he would find, to bring closure to my uncle and for everyone else. That matters, more than words can say.”

“He still left you in the first pla–”

“I would have done the same.”

Wheeler recoils, shock painted across his face. Eddie knows he’s just destroyed the perfect image the pup has been crafting of him as a mentor in his head–an idol he could never live up to. He is first and foremost a coward, and he refuses to be idolized for anything he is not.

“There’s no way I would have been able to carry anyone out. If we had done what you so kindly suggested,” he says, his smile all teeth and his words dripping saccharine venom, “and Steve had died in my place, I would have had to leave him behind, just as he’d done with me.”

“Would have been less of a los–”

“If you finish that sentence, I will never forgive you.” Eddie snarls, his anger palpable in every single word.

Wheeler’s jaw closes with an audible click.

“I took you under my wing, Wheeler,” he says, rage boiling beneath the surface, “a lost sheep and I a shepherd, not knowing you already had a flock, and someone to look after you. Someone you clearly take for granted, despite all that I know he has done for you.”

Eddie’s lip pulls back to reveal his gums, “or have you forgotten what he did for you in the tunnels?”

Wheeler goes pale and Eddie has never been more grateful that Steve had told him about the events that plagued Hawkins from '83 on as they snuggled on the couch, when neither of them could sleep.

“Have you forgotten how much he does for you? Giving you all rides and money and food when you need it? When you simply ask? How often he goes out of his way to take care of you?”

Eddie takes a single step forward, relishing the fear that lances across Wheeler’s pale face.

“He’s sacrificed so much for you, and you remain so ungrateful. He keeps everyone safe, because Steve Harrington is a good man who cares and loves with everything he has. How often has he gotten hurt for you? Have you forgotten how badly he was injured trying to keep you and everyone else safe? In the junkyard, in the tunnels that you, Wheeler, insisted on going into? And not only then, but at Starcourt?”

A mean, self-satisfied smile pulls across his lips. “Oh, yeah,” he drawls, “I know about that now. He drove a car, while already concussed and beat to shit by professional KGB torturers, into Billy fucking Hargrove to keep him from killing your sister,” he’s nearly shouting by the end of his statement, “and you have the gall to treat him as though he doesn’t matter?”

Eddie laughs, and it’s cold, cruel. Harsh. He looms over the pup, staring him down and occupying the space like he owns it.

“See, I think you hate how valuable he is,” he says, quietly, “because it reminds you of how little you’ve been able to accomplish. So all you can do, is lash out, pretend Steve is the useless one when perhaps you ought to check in the mirror, Wheeler,” Eddie spits, “because maybe you’re just projecting.”

“Eddie, stop…”

At the sound of Steve’s command, he comes hurtling back into himself, whirling around with wide eyes. It may have been spoken softly, wary in tone, but it was undoubtedly a command. He lurches in Steve’s direction, desperate to be close to him, his throat closing up at the sight of Steve’s tear-filled hazel eyes and his shaking hands as he lays one of them softly against Eddie’s forearm.

“That’s enough,” Steve murmurs, “You don’t have to be mean to him, okay?” The words are whispered only loud enough for the two of them to hear. Eddie feels his body sway immediately into Steve’s space like he can’t help himself, drawn hopelessly into his Stars’ gravity.

“Steve,” he breathes out, hands clenching uselessly where they hover at his sides. He’s afraid to touch when Steve is so clearly upset with him. “I–”

“Thank you,” Steve finally chokes out, staring up into Eddie’s eyes, a wobbly, watery smile tugging at his soft, plush lips. “For defending me. No one has ever–aside from Robin, an-and Dust…”

Eddie’s heart breaks.

“I will always defend you,” he whispers, feeling it like a binding oath; his words heavy and weighted with intent. “You’re everything, Steve… how could I not?”

He presses his forehead against Steve’s, eyes fluttering closed as he exhales a shuddering breath. Steve sighs, pressing back after a moment of hesitation that leaves Eddie on tenterhooks. They lean into one another, clutching tight as they simply breathe the same air for a long moment.

“Excuse me,” a quiet voice interrupts their moment, “... Eddie?”

He pulls back from Steve, turning to look at the source of the voice. It’s Buzz Cut and they’ve stepped towards him, an unreadable expression on their face. The furrow from between their brows is deeper than from before. They’ve got one hand fisted in the sleeve of Baby Byers’ shirt, tugging him along as he’s glancing down at them with concern.

“El?” Steve asks quietly, “what’s wrong?”.

Ohh. This is Supergirl, Eddie suddenly realizes.

Buzz Cut–El–straightens, the hesitance disappearing as a determined look crosses her face. She takes a breath.

“I thought you were like Will, when he was rescued from the Upside Down.” she says, her words crisp and precise, “Flayed.”

She nods, like that makes any sort of sense to him. Nobody else reacts, though, so it must, somehow.

“I checked again, for different things. You do not feel like One, or Eight. You do not feel like the Mind Flayer, either. You are not Bad,” she declares, her spine straight and her posture strong, “but you are different.”

Eddie just blinks at her, completely lost.

“What do you mean, he’s different, El?” Steve asks her quietly, his voice gentle.

“He is different. He feels familiar, but not. Not Bad.” Eddie can hear the capital b Bad, “but not like before.”

“Do you know what he feels closest to? Can you liken it to anything?” Baby Byers asks, blinking wide guileless eyes at his adoptive sister.

She squints a little, her brow furrowing briefly before it smooths out. She returns her gaze to Eddie and he once again gets the sensation of predator.

“Do you know why you feel like the Void?”

There’s silence in the room as he stares at her, completely clueless as to what the fuck she’s talking about.

Then, it’s cacophony as the world around him completely explodes into chaotic noise.

this was a doozy.

like, the horny shit was completely unplanned but? you're welcome?? i guess???

he's a filthy nasty boy. i don't know where any of it came from, to be fair.

yikes, but hey! there's the plot i promised! and a cliffhanger? sorry don't eat me!

also, confession: i actually really like Mike? but boy has a shitton of garbage he needs to work through and honestly, eddie would have been one of the best people to help him with that. i miss season one mike... lets get that boy back, yeah? but first we gotta get some of this shit out of the way, and it's not exactly going to be... kind.

AO3 is posted, so I'll be slowly uploading chapters there as I finish formatting them, so no real set schedule for that one. I'm going to be updating here on the same schedule as always, until circumstances change, obviously, so tumblr dot com aka the hellsite is still probably the best place for the updates about what the fuck i'm doing with this monstrosity.

as of this update, we've officially broken 100k! pops champagne

the support banners (and the content warning banners) are from here! they're beautiful, aren’t they? So in love with them. cafekitsune has made some gorgeous stuff. please check them out if you're a creator!

----------------------------------- THE PERMA-TAG LIST ----------------------------------- @almondflavoredbookworm @anne-bennett-cosplayer @awkwardgravity1 @brainsteddielyrotted @cashewnutofdoom @child-of-cthulhu @croatoan-like-its-hot @dame-zoom-a-lot @dauntlessdiva @ellietheasexylibrarian @estrellami-1 @eyesofshinigami @goodolefashionedloverboi @gregre369 @grimmfitzz @gutterflower77 @himbosandhardwear @hippieg1rl420 @hornybunnybaby @insteviewetrust @kacatshi @kingelyx @lawrencebshoggoth @lunabyrd @matchingbatbites @me-and-my-sloth @moltenchocolatelavacake @monsterloverforhire @mugloversonly @numinosmoon @obliosworld @ohmeg @panicatthediaz @pansexuality-activated @prazinos @queenie-ofthe-void @rainyefflorescence @sani-86 @sergeisilence @simplebtromance @snarkfamily @steddieinthesun @steddielations @steddieonbigboy @steddiewithachance @vacantwatchers @waelkyring @warlordess @y4r3luv

The perma-list on the main post is full! But don’t worry, you can still ask to be tagged! Your name will just end up in the replies, rather than the main post. I won’t forget you, I had to make a spreadsheet to keep track of all of you, which is fucking wild to me but i’m so goddamn flustered and blushy and skfnalsghaso about it so it’s whatever i guess.

I also have a list of folks who didn’t ask specifically to be tagged for future installments, but have been extremely enthusiastic about the story from the beginning based on their reblogs and/or replies to the posts. So if you’re on that list, unless you tell me otherwise, I'll continue putting your name in the replies. You can also follow the story tag, which is #Take Me Home steddie fic where you might find my posted sneak peeks or wip updates in between the actual parts, or you can even just follow me, @hobbyistauthor for all my nonsense!

If you don’t want to be tagged or want to be taken off the tag list for any reason, just let me know either in the replies or via DM. I don't bite much.

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xxbottlecapx · 1 month

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With ao3 still being down... here's a couple of links <3

The Fallen King and The King of the Freaks (WIP)

Summary: After Season 2 of Stranger Things, Steve is forced to deal with the fallout. Thankfully there's a Shepard willing to take him in.

AKA Steve becomes a member of Hellfire during his senior year.

you're losing your memory now

Summary: Robin Buckley wasn't prepared for Steve to crash, but he had been pushing his limits for too long. He had a plan, but he never thought to tell her. He didn't want to worry her. Too bad she'll always worry about him... Especially when he collapses at work.

This dream isn't feeling sweet, we're reeling through the midnight streets.

Summary: 7 Times Steve and Robin were affected by what happened at Starcourt and 1 time people understood what happened.

Swim - Alec Benjamin

Summary: Five times Steve had to prove he was worth love and One time someone just loved him without needing him to.

Based around the song in the title

The Start of Our Journey (Part 1 of a 5-part COMPLETED series)

Summary: Steve and Eddie were in the same year. They knew of each other. But one day their paired up in Chemistry. It makes Eddie realize that Steve Harrington is doing his best in school. He’s just not a good reader. And it makes Steve realize the reason his stomach flips when he sees Eddie means he’s not as straight as he once thought. After all, Eddie Munson has a nice voice and really hot hands.

AKA What if Steve and Eddie became friends before series one?

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xxbottlecapx · 1 month

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Ao3 is DOWN AGAIN HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO THRIVE UNDER THESE CONDITIONS

#ao3 #ao3 is down #steddie

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xxbottlecapx · 1 month

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Yo, can anyone help me find a Steddie fic?

I can't recall the title or author, but here's what I got:

Eddie finds Steve and Robin in the Starcourt Mall when they're high on whatever the Russians gave them. He ends up looking after Steve at his house, thinking they've been roofied, and he ends up staying with Steve and looking after him for a while.

Eddie thinks Steve is traumatised from a bad ex boyfriend, is a key point.

Also, I think there's elements of Sub-Steve a bit later in, and it's highlighted in the fic that Eddie walks Steve through subspace with bucket loads of consent talks bc, again, he thinks Steve had bad experiences with an ex bf.

I'm pretty sure the fic was on AO3 btw.

Aight yeah that's all I got, let's see if anyone knows what I'm talking bout xD

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xxbottlecapx · 1 month

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9 ▰▱▰▱ Take Me Home (Please Stay With Me) ▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱

"came back wrong" post-s4 fanfiction, featuring monster kas!eddie. pre-steddie -> steddie

minors DNI please, Steve has some S P I C Y thoughts, although nothing too explicit yet.

TW: References to period-typical homophobia, brief discussion of HIV/AIDS crisis.

Part I ┊ Part II ┊ Part III ┊ Part IV ┊ Part V ┊ Part VI ┊ Part VII ┊ Part VIII ┊ Part IX (📍)

Arlene grins at him, although her smile is painfully awkward and more like a grimace to Steve’s eyes.

“Guess I wasn't as clear as I thought I was.”

She steps towards him, holding her arms out in invitation. “Baby Bear, I'm so sorry, I completely misunderstood the subtext.” She apologizes and Steve's heart immediately starts to mend itself from the damage his knee-jerk fear at being outed caused, healing by the grace of the heartfelt nature of her words. The cracks that widened along the well-worn fault lines that spiderweb across the shattered patchwork remnants of his heart begin to fill in slowly, rebuilding yet again. He should have known, he should have never doubted his mom because she always has his back. He chokes down a relieved sob as all of the stress from the last few minutes comes crashing down on him with all of its immense weight, sending him stumbling into his mom’s open arms. He feels safe and warm, cradled in an embrace he’s missed terribly for the past three years. He immediately starts crying, the tears coming hot and fast down his cheeks and leaving salty streaks in their wake.

“Ohh, baby…” Arlene shushes him softly, rocking Steve gently side to side while she cards her fingers through his hair. He feels like a child again, comforted after falling and skinning his knee playing outside. He clutches to her harder, the catharsis too great to hold back as he gasps huge wet breaths in between his long bouts of sobbing, choking cries. He has no idea what she's doing here, back home in Hawkins when it looks less like a small town and more like a war zone, but he’s certainly not complaining about her presence. He’s missed her, and right now he's going to relish being close to his mom again for as long as she sticks around. He knows how busy she is, how important her new position at Ellsco is and he refuses to be the reason that gets jeopardized. Arlene smells like good wine and expensive cologne–not perfume, she’d never liked perfume–and Steve buries his face in the crook of her neck, sniffles at where she's warm and her pulse is strong. His fingers are fisted tightly in the fabric of her button-front, wrinkling the expensive fabric, but she doesn't even flinch. She’s always had her priorities in line, and laundry ranks far below her only son.

“I'm so sorry, honey,” she murmurs again, cradling the back of his head in her palm. “I know how dangerous the world is for people like me, and I should have known better than just making assumptions about who you’d told or hadn’t told about your presumed sexuality. What I said and the implications could have put you in danger were we around prying ears, even if you aren’t queer, because rumors are powerful things. Granted, I don’t think Eddie is the kind of person to think less of you if you were queer, if it's any consolation? I told him I was a lesbian and he didn’t really bat an eyelash, very respectful… I don't think Eddie will remember what I said, either? He's fairly blitzed...”

Steve laughs, the sound weak and wet from all his weeping. “N-no. It's okay,” he wants to reassure her, because honestly the fact that she’d wanted to goof around with him about it, wanted to normalize his queerness just like she would have done if he were feeling this way about a girl means more to him than words can say. She hadn’t done that out of malice, she knows how dangerous it is out there for people like them, knows she made a mistake by outing him–even if he technically hasn’t confirmed or denied it, yet–and apologized for it, too. Knowing that his mom is like him, like Robin, warms him from the inside out, igniting a bonfire in his chest and comforting him like the way it would dispel the chill of an autumn night. He thinks he might be ready to finally give voice to the words he’s never let himself say.

“I'm… I mean…”

“... Baby Bear?”

Steve takes a stuttering breath, trembling as his grip tightens on his mom’s shirt, “I… I'm not straight, mom.”

Arlene cards a hand gently through his hair, her other arm pulling tight across his shoulders with a comforting weight. He leans into her embrace, his eyes squeezing shut as his heartbeat races in his chest. He’s never said it out loud before; never actually voiced the truth to anyone besides himself in the safety of his own mind, well and truly alone with his thoughts. Hell, he's not even told Robin yet, although he's pretty sure she suspects, as if squinty eyed knowing looks she's been shooting him lately weren't telling enough. It’s not that he’s in any way ashamed to admit his bisexuality, but. It’s always felt like something he’s just not allowed to talk about? He’s not greedy, it’s not like being bisexual makes him more likely to cheat or anything–that’s horrible, and he refuses to ever cheat on anyone–but he likes both. He has a luxury in being able to choose to take the safe option; the path of least resistance. It’s not like he’s truly sacrificing because it’s not a lie, is it? He very well can fall in love with and have a perfectly fulfilling relationship with a woman–it doesn’t mean he doesn’t also find men attractive or that the potential to have the same type of relationship with a man is miraculously no longer there, but. He has the luxury of appearing straight-passing. Robin and people like her can never have that, the illusion of safety, without cutting away a part of themselves and pretending to be something they’re not. Forcing themselves into boxes that don’t fit for the sake of keeping themselves alive in a world that wishes them dead.

“Thank you for telling me,” mom’s voice is soft and gentle, soothing as she continues to hold him, “it’s very brave of you.”

He laughs, the sound wet and full of self-hatred, “Is it?” he scoffs.

Arlene pulls back from him, tenderly cupping his cheeks in her hands and looking Steve in the eyes, an intensity behind her long lashes. Her brows are furrowed and her lips are pursed, deep sorrow intermingling with the upset painted across her face.

“Stevie, of course it is. Coming out is terrifying, every time. It’s sometimes the hardest thing you may ever do in your life, because it’s voicing something so deeply personal to someone you hope you can trust. And sometimes,” her lips twitch into a bittersweet smile, “sometimes that trust is broken.”

Steve smiles back, wobbly and wet as he sniffles some tears away. He chuckles, relief washing over him as it actually starts to sink in that his mom is okay with him, that she’s not going to abandon him, that she believes him. It’s freeing and the tears stream down his cheeks anew, a sob wrenching its way out of his throat. Arlene shushes him, a broken worried sound, as her thumbs wipe away the salty streams as they tumble down his face. His sobs are half laughter, relief tangling up with the remnants of his anxiety, the internalized self-hatred he’s been working on sweeping away. Robin has talked about internalized homophobia before, and he’s more than aware he’s been working on his own since that day on the floor of the nasty Starcourt movie theater bathroom. Having his mother here, supporting him, loving him so earnestly, helps to rip it from where it stubbornly clings to the walls of Steve’s thoughts, and with every tear track she wipes away, he feels himself grow lighter.

“Mo- Momma Bear,” he warbles out, unable to stop his crying even as he smiles, “Momma, I’m bisexual.”

Arlene pauses in her earnest wiping of his tears, blinking at him. Slowly, and with the warmth of the sun rising above the horizon in the breaking of dawn, she smiles at him. Her eyes crinkle with how wide her lips pull, glistening with unshed tears of her own, sniffling as she just looks at him. He can see the pride in her eyes, the happiness in her smile.

“Baby Bear,” she says, “I love you so, so much.”

“Love you too, Momma,” he murmurs, throwing himself back into her arms, squeezing tightly. She’s smaller than him now, and it catches him off guard a little. Arlene has always felt larger than life to Steve, the biggest person in the room every time, but now he stands slightly taller than her and broader than her in the shoulders and arms. She fits against him differently than she used to–it’s still a shelter, but the comfort shared feels equal in exchange.

“So,” Arlene asks, her face pressed against his shoulder, her arms tucked under his to rest against his shoulder blades, “when did you know, Stevie-bear? Last I’d heard from you it was all ladies all the time. What changed?”

He chuckles, pressing his nose into her hair where it’s started to come loose from its’ styling. “I’ve always known, I think. I started noticing boys the same time I noticed girls, but context cues from people around me made it obvious that boys didn’t talk about other boys like boys talked about girls.” He shrugs, inhaling the familiar simple scent of her expensive shampoo. “I actually thought everyone had the same thoughts as me, finding everyone pretty and just choosing not to acknowledge the other side of things until later on. I um. I met someone who’s gay, actually, and they kind of made me realize that my way of thinking wasn’t exactly straight.”

“Oh?”

“Mmhm,” Steve nods, carefully considering his next words to keep Robin’s identity to himself. His mom might also be a lesbian, but he would never out Robin, even to another queer person. He couldn’t betray her trust like that. “We were talking and I asked them to choose between two celebrities, which one they thought was hotter. They said neither, and I was so confused. I said, ‘not even like, objectively?’ and they were just so meh about the whole thing I really had to reevaluate my entire life, really.”

Arlene laughs along with Steve, and he presses his forehead against the curve of her shoulder. Sighing.

“We took a few trips up to Indy, and there’s a couple of bookshops up there that sell, um. Zines? And other queer literature? So I kind of, immersed myself in that, and I realized I was probably bisexual all along and just hadn’t understood that liking both was an option.”

“Mm, sexuality is a fascinating thing, isn’t it?”

Steve chuckles, pulling back from Arlene for a moment to look at his mom. She seems softer in the waning light of the kitchen, hair falling from its styling, her shirt rumpled–blazer long lost–and standing in her socks on the tile. He can feel the fondness in his own bearing, no doubt mirroring the expression she has on her face as she looks back at him. His dad used to complain about how similar he looks to his mom–how closely he took to the Ellsworth family genetics rather than the Harrington genes. Steve’s never been more grateful for that.

“I mean, learning about the Kinsey scale was pretty interesting,” he says, “I’m not a perfect 3 I don’t think,” he admits, shrugging. He’s definitely pickier about what men he’s attracted to than he is about what draws him to women. The basics are there–brown hair, doe eyes, intelligent, a little mean–but otherwise, it’s just easier with women. He doesn’t have preferences or anything beyond his four main attraction points, but men? Men have to be pretty in some way… something about them has to strike Steve in a way that makes him pause, consider, and think wow, he’s pretty, huh? If that thought doesn’t happen, there’s no attraction, it’s just another dude.

“I think the number was um, a 2?” he taps his lips with a finger as he thinks, “Like, women are just easier for me to notice, because women, right?” He makes a curvy gesture with his hands while wiggling his eyebrows suggestively, making his mom snort a laugh, but she’s smiling and nodding so he continues. “But, like, objectively, I notice when dudes are hot. I mean, it doesn’t really do anything for me, I just notice.”

He licks his lips as his thoughts drift to one particular man. He feels hot where the blood flushes the skin of his neck, his mouth suddenly becoming dry as a desert. “But… sometimes a man just floors me with how pretty he is, you know?” He kind of hates how dreamy his voice gets by the end of his little monologue, how telling he’s being in the way he talks about a not-so-hypothetical man.

“Well,” Arlene says, raising an eyebrow at Steve that makes him feel so seen, “I do not know, because I am a big ol’ Kinsey 6,” she smirks and Steve groans. “But! I understand what you mean,” she laughs at his disgruntled expression, and the sound is so fond and teasing that Steve can’t help his blush and shoves gently at his mom.

“Shut up, mom! Oh my god, why am I talking about this with you!?”

“Because I’m your mother and you missed me and I’m also gay as fuck, Stevie-bear! You know you’re safe talking about your boy-crushes with me, now,” she croons softly at him, clearly conscious of her volume as she leans into his space, grinning mischievously.

Steve rolls his eyes, but his smile gives away his happiness with the continued ease of their relationship. His mom relents, leaning back against the kitchen island and smoothly exiting Steve’s personal space.

“Not that I’m not glad to see you, Mom, but why are you here? Back in Hawkins?”

Arlene sighs, the sound heavy as though she’s carrying the weight of the world as she tilts her head backwards.

“I wanted to see you, Bear,” she admits, “and after the truly horrendous call I had with the financial advisor over the phone about how I wanted to adjust the terms of access for the trust,” she makes a face, sticking out her tongue and rolling her eyes, “I knew it would be simpler to come here myself and handle it in person. That it gave me an excuse to see you? A bonus that Charlene was all too willing to exploit to bully the rest of the board into getting me some well deserved R&R time.”

Arlene preens a little, clearly delighted with the ingenuity of herself and Charlene–he’s glad that he knows how well his mom pays her, because honestly that woman has to be a saint to put up with the ridiculous energy and demands of his mother on a daily basis–she’s a tough business woman, and for good reason.

“You do work a lot, Mom,” Steve says, his smile going crooked with fondness at his mother’s dramatic flair, “I’m glad Charlene’s in your corner.”

“Mm, I’m going to make sure I can wrangle her up a good bonus again this year… or maybe a raise? The taxes they throw on bonuses are bullshit, anyway.”

“Definitely a raise, Mom.”

“I’ll do that, then, Stevie-bear. Thanks for your input,” she waves him closer and he goes easily, bending forward when she beckons, receiving a smacking forehead kiss for his obedience. It fills his heart with warmth and he realizes his smile has yet to fade. They stand together in comfortable silence in their kitchen for a long moment, just existing in each other’s space. It’s both strange and welcoming, a reminder of something he’s not thought he’d have again. Just being with his mom makes Steve feel safe, but it’s been such a long time, it’s foreign even through the oddly nostalgic tingle that dances across his skin.

“So,” Arlene finally breaks the silence, “can you explain to me what exactly is going on with Eddie?”

“I–”

“Look, Stevie,” she sighs, “you know I’m not judging you in the slightest, right? I just feel like I need a better grasp on the situation. I mean, I walked into my own home to the guy perched on my countertops eating fucking Spaghetti-Os over the sink and looking like some sort of fantasy monster out of one of Le Guin’s novels. I need a little more context than the vague garbage excuses Owens and Stinson spouted at me.”

Steve raises an eyebrow, surprised she even knows anything, “Um, yeah, about that–how–?”

“Ellsco works with government contracts, and that requires me to have certain levels of clearance regarding confidential matters,” Arlene replies, a smug eyebrow raise punctuating her statement, “So needless to say, they learned quickly that they couldn’t shut me out. Not when Ellsco is as intertwined and as important to their work as we are.”

“Mom,” Steve breathes, “you didn’t!”

“You bet your ass I did!” she scoffs, “What, you think I wouldn’t threaten to pull funding for their weird little projects entirely once I found out my son was involved in something they fucked up?! And they thought they could just not tell me?”

“Oh my g–” Steve cackles, “Jesus Christ, you’re such a fucking badass, holy shit!”

“Praise me all you want, Bear, but that’s not getting you out of explaining what the hell is up with the claws and the ears and fangs and the tail.”

“He’s got wings too, actually.”

“No shit?”

“No shit.” He nods, “They’re small enough he can hide ‘em under his shirts now, if they’re baggy enough, but yeah.”

“Huh.” Arlene blinks slowly before she tosses her head slightly, as though she’s forcibly shaking herself out of her thoughts, “No distracting me, Bear. How did he get like that? Is it because of the, eh, what did they call it… Upside Down? The thing that caused the earthquakes and the weird cracks in the ground?”

“Kind of. It’s… it’s a really long story,” Steve sighs, raking his hand through his hair, “can… can we go sit down for this?”

“Jesus,” Arlene mutters, a concerned expression crossing her face, “how long is long, baby? You need to sit down to tell it?”

“Um.”

“Baby Bear…”

“It’s been going on since ‘83.”

“Are you fucking–goddamn ‘83?!”

Steve cringes and shrugs, “I–I mean, y-yeah?”

Arlene pinches the bridge of her nose, “Shit. I might pull funding out of spite anyway, Jesus fucking Christ. And let me guess,” she spits, “you’ve been involved the whole goddamn time?”

“Uh–”

“Nope, no, Stevie-bear, that was rhetorical, you’re my kid, of course you were fucking involved. You’re too kind to not want to help, even if it was terrifying…”

“Um–”

“Did the fucking government just leave it all in the hands of fucking children?!”

“I mean, Ms. Byers and Hop were there the whole time–”

“Ms. Byers? Hop?” Arlene squints at Steve briefly, before she shakes her head, “Joyce and Jim? You’re telling me they were the only adults who knew about this?”

“I mean, yeah?” he shrugs, “It was mostly me, Nance, Jon, and later on, Rob? Oh, and the kids I told you about? The ones I babysit? And Ms. Byers and Hop were the adults in the know. We’ve kinda’ been like, the first line of defense, you know?”

Arlene looks distraught the more he talks, and Steve feels guilty for making his mom upset. He’d hoped he would have made her feel better, knowing he’s had adults on their side at least, but somehow he thinks he’s made it worse.

“Good God, baby…” she sounds winded, “how–how have you not called me for help sooner?”

“You’ve been busy, Mom,” he shrugs, “I’m okay, and you’ve got your own life. I don’t want to bother you with the trivial stuff.”

“None of that is trivial!”

He flinches.

“Baby!” He blinks in shock as warm palms fit smoothly around his cheeks, staring into his mom’s desperate teary eyes, “baby, nothing I do is more important than you, especially not if you need help.”

“I–”

“There’s nothing I can do about it now, it’s too little too late, but, please, Baby Bear,” she pleads with him, a frantic tone in her voice, “tell me next time, never assume it’s trivial, because I promise you, it isn’t.”

Unbidden, Steve feels tears well up again. He hasn’t cried this much since he was a kid, but he supposes it’s fitting now that his mom is back, bringing with her that feeling of safety he’d thought had vanished along with the warmth of his childhood summers in Italy.

“Okay,” he warbles, “O- Okay, momma, I promise.”

“Good,” she nods her head once, a jerky, emotional motion before gingerly focusing her attention on wiping the stray tears from Steve’s cheeks.

“C- Can we go sit now? If you still want to know about everything?”

“Yeah, Stevie-bear.” Arlene steps back away from him, her hands slipping from his face to his shoulders, sliding down his arms slowly, soothingly. Her delicate, manicured fingers gently encircle his wrists, holding him so softly with just the slightest pressure against the beat of his pulse. He smiles at her, feeling the way it wobbles on his lips in time with the tumultuous emotions roiling in his gut. She returns it in kind and together they head back into the living room, hand in hand.

—

Steve is half expecting Eds to be waiting for them like an eager puppy, all bright eyed and bushy tailed, but they aren’t greeted by his enthusiasm at all. Steve’s anxiety rises immediately and he darts away from his mom, bee-lining to the couch since that was the last place he saw Eddie. His heart calms when his eyes settle on the form of his sweetheart, curled around the blanket he snuggles under with Steve most nights, his nose buried in the folds and making soft huffing breaths in his sleep. Steve deflates, leaning heavily against the couch as the relief washes over him. He’s helpless to resist the urge that rises, reaching out and running his fingers through the beautiful boy’s hair, pushing it out of his face and tracing the shell of his long, tapered ear as he tucks the dark curls behind it. He knows how soft his expression must be, glad that his back is to his mom, because he doesn’t think he can stand her teasing right now. Eddie purrs quietly in his sleep, pressing into Steve’s touch and it pulls him back to reality. He straightens, turning back to Arlene.

“Um, I’m going to sit here,” he tells her, aware his face is completely giving him away, but determined to not let it bother him. He squares his shoulders.

Arlene simply smiles warmly at him, pushing the armchair closer to the couch and settling into it, tucking her legs underneath her as she waits for him to get himself situated.

Steve exhales, looking down at the sweet, half-monster curled so cutely on the couch. He makes a quick decision and prays his mom won’t razz him too much for it.

He sits on the middle cushion, pulling one of the decorative pillows up against his side as a bolster before reaching over towards Eddie. Gently, he hauls the larger beastie towards him, eliciting some quiet grumbles but once Eds seems to understand that Steve’s thighs are to become his new pillow, Eds quiets quickly, purring loudly in pleasure and snuggling in, rolling over and pressing his face against Steve’s stomach. Steve sinks one hand into Eds’ hair, the other falling between his shoulder blades, skirting around the edges of where he knows Eddie’s wings lay flat against his back. He runs his fingers through dark curls, scraping blunt nails across his sweetheart’s scalp while Steve’s other hand rubs tender circles of delicate pressure against the knobs of Eddie’s spine through the yellow sweater he’s stolen from Steve’s closet. The purring sound increases in volume, the weight of his sweetheart doubling across his lap as the beastie goes boneless from Steve’s attention.

“He’s very telling, isn’t he?”

“No,” Steve sighs, “he’s just affectionate, I think.”

Arlene scrunches her brow, “Really? Stevie–”

“Eddie died, mom.”

The sharp inhale he hears makes him squeeze his eyes shut as old pain rises to the surface. He hates thinking about it, but it’s the reality. Eddie is like this because he’d died in the Upside Down, and they’d–he’d–left Eddie there to rot.

“We… Spring Break,” Steve chokes out, “was the most recent incident. A- A girl was killed in front of him, mom. He- He had no idea about any of it before then, you know? He’d just run this dorky little nerd game club that the boys I babysit for are nutso about, and he was- he was in the wrong place at the wrong time. I think he was trying to help her, really. Wrong way to help her, with drugs, but I mean, his heart was in the right place.”

Steve chuckles, tugging a little on Eds’ curls and pulling a soft whine from his throat, the sound smothered in the fabric of Steve’s shirt. He barely catches it, but the vibration against his stomach makes him shiver with want. He stuffs it down, because now isn’t the time for those kinds of thoughts, but he logs it in his memory for later.

“Anyway, she- she died really awfully, mom. Like, body-horror awful. He ran, and I don’t blame him. It made it look like he’d killed her, though, which fucking blows. Hop and the government spooks are working on clearing his name, but we don’t know how long that’s going to take. Anyway… turns out what killed this girl in his home in front of him is tied to the shit that’s been happening since ‘83. We all got roped in, and well… in the end, we had to uh, split the party. He went with Dustin–” he looks up at his mom, brow furrowed, “I’ve told you about Dustin, right?”

Arlene smiles at him, eyes soft and incredibly sad through all the fondness scrawled across every inch of her face.

“Yeah, Stevie-bear,” she says, kindly, “you have. You said he’s like the little brother you always wish you’d had, even if he has… Oh, what did you say? Ah, right,” she chuckles, “the biggest ego you’ve ever seen.”

Steve snorts, “Y- Yeah, that’s Dusty, alright. Um, yeah. So… Eddie went with Dust, they were the distraction, cause there were these other things that uhhh–basically they were trying to block us from stopping the evil guy who we’d been calling Vecna or One… and they did, but something went wrong. So to protect Dustin, he–”

Steve chokes on his emotions, fear and nausea rising in his throat as memories of finding Dustin wailing over Eddie’s corpse bombard his mind, filling him with grief all over again. He has to focus on not hyperventilating because fuck, Eddie’s right here, in his lap, breathing and alive–changed but alive–and while he’d left Eddie behind, Steve had gone back, he’d gotten Eds out of there, he’d gotten Eddie out of Hell. He exhales, shaking.

“To protect Dustin, he made the sacrifice play… and he’d not made it.”

“Oh, Stevie…”

He feels the tears spilling, can hear the agony in his mom’s voice, the empathy in her tone, sympathy oozing on every word. He sniffles, roughly wiping his face with the back of his hand, laughing humorlessly as the tears continue to burble down his cheeks, fat and unrelenting.

“I- I’d had to drag Dust off of him… off his corpse, mom. He- He was kicking and screaming, his ankle was broken, and he didn’t care, he just–” Steve chokes on another sob, “–he just wanted Eddie to be alive, and there I was, dragging him away from- from one of the only other older male figures in his life. And- And I had to leave his body there to rot.”

Arlene is on her feet between one heartbeat and the next, falling onto the cushion beside Steve and wrapping her arms around his shoulders, holding him tightly and rocking them gently back and forth. He sobs.

“I- I had to leave him behind, mom!”

“Shh, Stevie, shhhh…” she soothes, her voice broken and threaded with sadness, “it sounds like you didn’t have a choice, baby, you’re just one man.”

“I- I should have tried harder, mom! I should never have left him there!”

“Oh, baby… oh my Baby Bear, no…” Arlene chokes out, her arms trembling where they clutch tight around him, “It’s not your fault, and I guarantee Eddie would tell you the exact same thing if he was awake right now.”

Steve breaks.

He falls apart, crumbling into his mom’s embrace as she holds him, quietly murmuring wordless comfort. The weight of Eddie’s body across his lap is grounding, and it keeps him from completely disconnecting from reality as he weeps, clutching Arlene’s button front so hard he’s almost afraid he might tear holes into the fabric. His mom’s fingers thread into the hair at the nape of Steve’s neck, stroking with firm passes that make him go boneless with a pained whine, his face sticky with salt from all the tears he’s cried as he buries it in his mom’s shoulder. He feels a tight pressure around his waist, and he lifts his head from where he’s had it smashed against Arlene’s body, looking down to see that Eddie has wound one of his arms around Steve, snuggling in close and deepening his sub-vocal purring noises to the point that Steve can feel the vibrations strongly through his skin.

“I had a lot of time to get to know Eddie today, Stevie.”

Steve lifts his gaze, turning swollen, teary eyes to his mother’s face. She looks determined, a stubborn set to her jaw that makes Steve sit up and listen, because for all that his mother is playful and kind, she’s also fierce and refuses to not be taken seriously when the situation calls for it.

“Not a single thing that he told me has led me to believe that he would for a single second allow you to go on thinking that his death was in any way your fault.”

“But–”

“Nor would he allow you to beat yourself up for leaving him behind. I’m certain that he understands that you had to decide between a corpse and a living person–between his dead body and Dustin, who if I’m not mistaken, you both adore–which he would agree is a no-brainer decision, Stevie.”

“I–”

“Steve.”

He swallows, blinking away the remnants of tears at the fierce tone in his mom’s voice.

“Eddie is a kind boy. He would hate that you’re beating yourself up like this. And he’s back now, isn’t he? If I know you,” she says, raising an eyebrow, “and I like to think that I do, you probably went back for him, didn’t you?”

Speechless, all Steve can do is nod. Arlene sighs, hanging her head.

“Steve,” she says on an exhale, “that decision alone is… it’s amazing, incredibly kind and thoughtful. You went back to collect a body, I’m assuming, to bring closure to a mourning family and to a boy you love like a little brother. How am I doing so far?”

“P- Pretty good, actually,” he chuckles humorlessly.

Arlene hums, “Figured. So when you went back, what did you find?”

Steve takes a deep breath, collecting himself. She’s amazing at this, refocusing the conversations when they deviate off the ideal pathways. It’s something that makes her an excellent businesswoman–distracting anecdotes don’t work on her.

“Um. He wasn’t human anymore. Eds was… he was basically a feral monster. But- But I took a risk, and it… it worked. He recognized me, and um. I think he imprinted on me or something?”

“Oh?”

“Y- Yeah, he got, uhh. Really affectionate? Um, didn’t want to part from me, liked to be touching all the time, very protective.”

“Animalistic, would you say?”

“Y-Yeah, that’s a good way to put it, I guess.” Steve agrees, nodding, “He seemed to run almost exclusively off of like, instinct or something, and it wasn’t human instinct. Whatever happened to him down there, it mutated him into whatever he is now.”

His mom’s face twists slightly in a disagreeing expression, “He’s not that mutated, Stevie. A little different maybe, with the ears and tail and claws, but it’s not completely inexplicable or unable to be concealed.”

“It was… it was worse, before.”

“What do you mean, worse?”

Steve exhales, dropping his gaze back down to the sleeping sweetheart sprawled across his lap. His fingers tighten in their hold within dark curls, pulling a thick, needy sound from Eds’ throat that’s thankfully muffled into Steve’s shirt.

“I mean… it was more obvious that he wasn’t–isn’t–human anymore, mom. He didn’t look even remotely human when we found him. He walked on four legs, his face was more bat-like than human… hell, you’ve seen how big he is. I thought he was going to kill me at first, but…”

“But he didn’t.”

Steve shakes his head, a melancholic smile tugging the corner of his lips upwards, “Like I said, he recognized me, or something, and bonded with me somehow. The affectionate nature just… never left, and he’s been really tactile ever since.”

“So, if he was more–” Arlene’s words are cut off by the dinging of a timer. He looks in tandem with her to glance through the doorway into the kitchen, before returning his gaze back to her face.

“... are you cooking something, mom?”

“Ah, shit,” she says, clapping her hands on her thighs and standing with a quiet grunt, “Yeah, I was. I was actually teaching your boy there the patented Chiara family bolognese before we started drinking.”

Steve’s heart flutters wildly in his chest, because that’s…

“Mom…”

She smiles at him, a knowing look in her blue-green eyes as she raises an eyebrow at him, “Stevie, the poor thing was eating Spaghetti-Os. What kind of Italian-American would I be if I didn’t offer to feed him?”

“Fair point,” he laughs quietly, resuming his petting through Eddie’s soft curls, looking down at the boy in his lap, “but you… you were teaching him..?”

Arlene shrugs, “I just get the feeling that this one wants to stick around, Baby Bear,” she says as she turns and walks away to the kitchen, no doubt to check on the bolognese.

Steve chews on his lower lip after she leaves the living room, wishing horribly that he knew what the two of them had talked about while he was at work, or what his mom had seen in Eddie that makes her so sure of him. The Chiara family recipes are a closely guarded secret, and he knows how tightly she holds them, how fiercely she protects them. That she was so willing to share the family recipes with Eddie, it seems impossible. She’s said before that she would share them with his future wife, but he’s definitely not made a marriage announcement. (Although it’s not like his overly-romantic hard-and-fast heart hasn’t imagined it already… Maybe she’s considering it good-as, because technically actual marriage is illegal for people like them–like mom and himself?) Steve shakes his head and waits for his mom to come back, focusing on the happy rumbles coming from the sleeping beast in his lap.

Arlene saunters back into the living room five minutes later, smelling of delicious meat sauce and humming with satisfaction. She settles back into her armchair and smiles at Steve.

“So. Where were we?”

“Uhhh,” he blinks, “we were talking about how I found Eds in the Upside Down.”

“Right,” she nods, “you said he bonded with you, or something of that nature and became affectionate and tactile, and that hasn’t faded.”

“Yeah.”

“You mentioned that he was… hmm.” Arlene trails off, her brows furrowed as she clearly searches for the right word, “Monstrous when you found him, correct?”

“Mmhm, yeah. He didn’t even really look human, his hair was more of a mane and his face wasn’t even remotely human-shaped, he kinda had a bat-like smushed nose. And like, two sets of ears? Giant talons and huge wings, his tail was even way longer and stronger too.”

Arlene squints, “So then, how exactly did he start to look more… human?”

Steve smiles, “That was all Dustin.”

“Oh? You let Dustin see him?”

“Of course I did. I knew he would be safe, Eds loves Dust just as much as I do. Plus, he did really well with Wayne so it seemed perfectly alright to let the little shithead come over… besides, I didn’t really want to let him go on hurting and mourning Eddie’s death if he didn’t have to, you know? It really messed him up, mom. I hated seeing him like that… it was like he’d lost a huge part of himself, and here I had a way to help him heal from that wound.”

His mom’s eyes are soft, her lips pulled into a gentle smile that’s dripping with love and Steve squirms under the weight of her gaze, heat rising up his neck and making his cheeks blotchy with embarrassment.

“A- Anyway,” he stutters, “Dust figured out he’s some strange variation on a vampire, and so we tried feeding him blood to test the theory. It worked, and so since then I’ve been feeding him my blood, which has been helping him regain a more human appearance.”

“Your blood?”

“It’s not very much! I don’t even get, like, dizzy after he feeds!” Steve raises the hand that’s not buried in Eds’ hair, waving it frantically, “It’s barely even like donating blood–I don’t think he takes anywhere near a pint every time he feeds.”

“Okay… and you’re being safe, right?”

“Mom, this… this isn’t like The Crisis, okay?” he whispers, “And even if it was, I’m not stupid enough to take any chances with my own health or his, I promise.”

“Ellsco headquarters might be in Boston, but I’ve already watched a few of my friends just… disappear, and I’d…” Arlene squares her shoulders, “I would hate to watch my son fade away like that. I just want you to be safe, okay? Do you know… do you know how to go and get tested, Bear?”

He nods, “I- I read about it in a zine I got from Indy.”

Arlene nods once, decisive, “I’ll go with you, if you want to get it done while I’m here.”

Steve smiles at her, wobbly and grateful, “Okay, mom. That’s weird, getting tested with your mom, but… I’m grateful.”

“We can make a day of it,” she says, waving a hand and settling back in her armchair, “get some breakfast somewhere, get the testing–I should get my testing updated, too, honestly–and then just shop around and enjoy ourselves!”

“Ah–but, what about Eds?” Steve bites his lip and looks down at the sleeping boy, “I don’t think I’d be able to just… leave him behind all day to go have fun without him.”

“Hm,” Arlene hums, “well, we can wait a bit, of course. Oh!” her eyes brighten as a devious smirk spreads across her face. Steve’s heart races in his chest as his nerves blare alarm bells in his head.

“Mom… what are you…”

“I bet I could just con Owens into doing it for us.”

“MOM!”

“What? The asshole owes me.” She scoffs and tosses her head, a childish pout on her lips, “He tried to keep me from my own son, what absolute gall.”

Steve snorts, “Okay, okay. Alright, mom.”

“Plus, wouldn’t it be better for Eddie’s blood to remain with someone we have leverage with, rather than some random lab people who might report any abnormalities?”

“Wait–you’re including Eds in our weird little mother-son testing day? Mom!”

She shrugs, “Well, isn’t it better for you to know now? I mean, if you two are gonna be–”

“SHHH! MOM!!” he whisper shrieks at her, his face flaming.

“What?” she blinks, false innocence across her face as her lips threaten to break into a cheesing grin, “He’s asleep, he’s not listening.”

“Jesus H. Christ, you can’t just say that!! Besides,” he grumbles, “just because I like him doesn’t necessarily mean that he likes me, even if he has been really tactile and affectionate, okay?”

Steve hears the sound of skin slapping against skin and he looks up at his mom, brows furrowing at the sight of her with her hand pressed over her face. She groans, the sound pained and he wonders if she just smacked herself in the forehead or something, which is pretty unlike her.

“Uhh, mom? …You okay?”

“Peachy,” she grouses out. “Stevie-bear, light of my life; I adore you, but sometimes I want to shake you until your head flies off.”

“Um.”

Arlene peels her hand away from her face, leveling Steve with the flattest look he’s ever seen her shoot him before. She heaves a great sigh, shaking her head.

“You’re pretty convinced he’s not interested in you like that then, Stevie?”

“I mean…” he swallows, his blotchy blush filling in further as more heat floods his face, “I would be really happy if he were interested, but… I don’t, um. I don’t think he is? He’s been physically affectionate, but from what I’ve heard from Wayne, I don’t think he’s like us.”

She arches an eyebrow, “You know sexuality is fluid, so why are you being so rigid with him? Who’s to say that he couldn’t be interested in you?”

Steve chews on his lower lip, fidgeting with his handful of Eddie’s curls, “You’re… you’re not wrong, I guess. But, it sort of feels like I’m forcing my feelings on him when I think about it like that, you know?”

“Not really, Stevie.”

He huffs, a puff of air blowing stray bangs back off his forehead. “It’s like I’m taking what I want to see in him and forcing it to be the truth, even if it’s really not, confusing my own desires with what’s actually there.”

“Mixing fantasy and reality?”

He snaps, pointing at his mom as she puts words to his thoughts. “Yes! That!”

Arlene sighs, “I suppose I can understand falling for the straight person. It’s definitely happened before, and I’ve only seen you two interact very briefly, but…” she trails off, lips pursed and brow furrowed. Steve watches his mom carefully. It’s telling how selective she’s being in choosing her words, it’s obvious she thinks she knows something, and again he wonders just what she and Eds talked about while he was at work.

“I mean, you saw us interact while Eds was drunk, mom.”

She waves him off, “In vino veritas, Stevie.”

He rolls his eyes at her and waits for her to finally come up with what she wants to say.

“I don’t think it’s as far from reality as you think it may be.” She says quietly, fixing him with a serious look, “He clearly adores you, and the way he spoke about you when we were talking felt like it went beyond just friendship to me.”

Steve’s heart stutters in his chest, that tiny flame of hope sputtering and sparking where he’s kept it safe behind his ribs.

“I don’t think it would be completely far-fetched to maybe consider testing those waters a bit more, Stevie. If you really like him the way I think you do,” she raises an eyebrow as his blush darkens, “then you should maybe show him more. Turn up the charm, give him more of a taste of what you have to offer.”

“I–”

“Steve, Eddie is a sweet boy.” She says this as a statement, like she knows it’s a fact, and it soothes something deep in his brain–some anxious doubt lurking around at the edges and making him feel off kilter. With the easing of it, the ground beneath his feet is no longer lurching, suddenly stabilized and solid once again.

“I spoke to him a lot today and I can confidently say that you wouldn’t lose him if you were to admit any feelings. Or if that’s too much too fast for you, just being more obvious about how you feel about him wouldn’t end with him outright rejecting those advances. Hell, you might be surprised.”

“But…”

“Stevie,” Arlene interrupts him, leaning forward in her seat, “you should just do what you want, okay? Just, treat him like you would if he was just one of the girls you dated before.”

“He’s so much more than them, though…”

“Then show him that, Stevie.”

He swallows, nerves alight with possibilities as that tiny flame grows just a little stronger where it remains safe in his heart. Hope bubbles in his chest, feeding it steadily as he contemplates what his mom has just told him. She’s more experienced in this sort of thing than him, he has to admit–queer romance is out of his wheelhouse, as this is his first actual attempt. And he’s terrified still, but there’s a thrill that runs through his veins now that wasn’t there before, beating in tandem with the pulse of the flickering flame behind its ivory cage.

“You- You really think I should? That I- That I have a chance?”

“I do, Baby Bear. I really, really do.” She says, a smile spreading across her face, “I just want to see you happy, and it’s so obvious how happy he makes you, even now.”

“Thanks, mom.”

“Any time, baby. I love you.”

“I love you too, momma.”

Arlene flops back in the armchair, gusting out a breath, “Lord almighty, I am emotionally drained right now, you take years off my gay little life, Stevie, I swear.”

“H- Hey!”

She cackles, an ugly braying donkey laugh that makes Steve warm with nostalgia. He joins in after a moment, his own burbling chuckles spilling out of his lungs. It’s nice, sitting with his mom and his sweetheart in the living room, just spending time together. The two of them chat quietly, Steve stroking Eds’ hair as he finally fills her in on what has happened in Hawkins since ‘83. A lot of what he tells Arlene upsets her, but she takes it all in and handles the shock well. She migrates over to the couch from the armchair somewhere in the middle of his retelling of the events at Starcourt, and holds his hand tightly as he talks, his voice shaking. By the end of the events of Spring Break and what he knows about the whole Russian rescue mission and the California crew’s cross country adventure, she’s holding him tightly. She solemnly promises to be more involved in his life from now on and he pretends not to notice the way her tears soak the shoulder of his shirt or the way she has to forcibly collect herself afterwards.

Arlene transitions their discussion fluidly into an easy chat after she’s finished asking questions about the Upside Down and all the crazy shit tied to it, keeping the discussion mundane as she fills him in on some of the upcoming projects Ellsco has taken on. A lot of her work is confidential, but not all of it is as the Fortune 500 company has its fingers in lots of pies–she relishes in telling him about a few passion projects that haven’t required her to sign a thousand and one NDAs. She tells him how Gramma and Grampy are doing, how Grampy is enjoying his partial retirement now that she’s taken over. She also mentions reconnecting with his uncle Ben–Steve would swear his mom had a sister, not a brother, but he’s probably just remembering wrong–and how they’d met up on one of her business trips to Miami a few years ago by chance. It’s wonderful. Steve finds himself relaxing as they converse easily back and forth, sharing the parts of their lives they’ve missed over the past few years.

Steve is alone in the living room again, Arlene having just gone into the kitchen to check on the bolognese a final time, enjoying the quiet as he cards his fingers through dark curls, lightly dragging his nails against the skin of Eddie’s scalp in the tranquil atmosphere. He feels the body laid across his lap begin to stir after a time and he casts his gaze down to the boy he’s been playing pillow for, a smile tugging at his lips.

“Mmn–” Eds grumbles, his voice heavy with sleep as his strong arms squeeze around Steve’s middle, “–S’vie?”

“Good morning, lazybones,” Steve murmurs in reply, chuckling. “You awake now?”

Eddie blinks open bleary hickory eyes, drowsy and clouded as he turns his gaze up at Steve; twisting from the prone position he’s adopted, splayed across Steve’s thighs. His jaw cracks in a wide yawn that exposes his sharp fangs and long tongue before he buries his face against Steve’s stomach again, humming happily.

“M’wake,” Eddie mumbles, “y’r warm…”

“I’m warm?” Steve snickers, tugging gently on a small handful of curls in his amusement. The action pulls a thick sound from Eds’ throat, yanking at a burning thread of desire deep in Steve’s core that he steadfastly ignores in favor of releasing his hold on Eddie’s hair. “I’m flattered, but you’ve been sleeping for a few hours now and dinner is going to be ready soon. Aren’t you hungry yet?”

The face Eddie makes in response is cute; all pouty and crinkled in his disapproval. He’s clearly not in favor of moving off of Steve. “I’m–”

The sudden rumbling of Eds’ stomach cuts him off, the sound well timed and harmonizing with the gurgling of Steve’s own stomach when it makes itself known moments later. Eddie jolts away from Steve’s body, the dramatic reaction pulling a laugh from Steve. The embarrassment that scrawls its way across Eds’ face is plain to see in the pink flush that colors his cheeks and the bridge of his nose, reaching even the tips of his pointed ears. It’s unbearably cute–he wants to nip at them.

“I… I guess I’m kinda hungry,” he admits, shyly looking away from Steve.

“Hm,” Steve drawls, smiling fondly at his sweetheart, “I mean, I’m pretty hungry too. Mom told me you helped her make the sauce, so I guess I’m pretty excited to see how it turned out. Especially since you had a hand in it.”

That pretty pink flush goes darker to Steve’s delight, and he eagerly watches as Eddie fidgets in place, absurdly pleased that he doesn’t try to move out of Steve’s space. He loves how close they are, all pressed together like this. He’s starved for touch, and Eds’ is his favorite of all. It always feels like a dream and sometimes he has to remind himself that no, it’s reality. He’s just this lucky.

“Arlene did most of the wo- work,” Eddie mumbles, “I just th- threw stuff in the pot and st- stirred it sometimes.”

“That’s still helping, silly.” Steve chastises kindly, “It counts.”

Eds looks up at him with huge hickory eyes, sparkling and wide, gleaming with hope. “It… does?”

“Mmhm,” Steve nods, unable to contain his fondness–all the love he has for this boy. He can feel the way it colors his smile, the way it pulls at the edges of his eyes, the way his shoulders slope in Eds’ direction like he can’t bear to turn away from him. He thinks about what his mom said about him, how she doesn’t think he would lose Eddie if he confessed… how she thinks he could easily get away with upping the ante, so to speak. He chews the inside of his cheek, excited anxiety brewing in his gut at the thought of turning up the charm–of wooing the man he wants, the way he wants to.

There’s a lot that could go wrong if he did decide to really start turning on the charm with Eds. So far, he’s just tried to- to be nice… to be kind to him; to be a safe harbor when Eds feels anxious, and a place he knows he can come to rest his head when the world feels too big, too mean, or just too much. Nothing he’s done so far falls within the typical big displays of romance, but that’s okay because it’s the tiny acts of devotion that Steve loves best. He loves being able to do things for his partners, to show them how much he adores them, how often they cross his mind. He does things for them without a second thought because he wants to make their life easier, he wants to ease whatever burdens them if only for a short while–he wants to integrate himself into their life in any way he can, even if that means he’s only there in the capacity as a meat shield or a workhorse. If he can make himself useful, helpful, to them… that’s enough for him.

He always wants to do more, of course. He wants to pamper, to take care of them, but he’s been accused more than once of being overbearing; of being needy–of being clingy. He smothers those urges as best he can, because he’s learned that it’s not what most people want from him. Does he hope that one day he’ll find someone who will indulge him in those urges? Yes, of course. But he’s aware it’s far fetched and selfish. But with Eddie it’s so hard… with Eddie, he’s greedy. He wants all of it–he wants to wash his hair, wants to cook his lunches, his dinners. He wants to hold him in his arms on the couch and watch bad TV until he falls asleep, and wants to make him feel safe when he wakes from nightmares of monochrome skies and unfriendly landscapes. He wants to take care of him, to help him regain his human appearance so he has a chance to return to society, a chance to be himself amongst other people again. He wants to see Eddie spread his metaphorical wings again, prance on the cafeteria tables of the world and take them all by storm–he’s a force of nature and to see such a beautiful creature caged and forced behind closed doors is a tragedy he refuses to see play out any longer than it has to. He will not clip those metaphorical wings, no matter how badly he wants Eddie to stay with him.

What’s the saying? If you love it, let it go?

He’ll just have to hope Eddie will want to return to him when his shackles are finally shattered.

Take a chance, hope that his mom is right. The risk is worth the reward, after all.

Steve smiles down at Eddie, finally releases the tenuous hold on his control. He feels it when his smile easily slides into a far more flirtatious territory than he’s previously allowed it to venture with Eds; a smile he’s only ever used on women he’s wanted to date before now. He gently grasps Eddie’s chin, the firm grip pulling a stuttering breath around fangs and from between plush, parted lips as Steve lifts his half-monster’s jaw to force their eyes to meet. He watches with a hungry gaze as hickory eyes widen, as he leans in closer until his nose just barely brushes against his sweetheart’s. He can feel the way Eds’ breath quickens; hot against his cheek, ghosting against his own mouth. It’s tantalizing, but he can be patient… it will be worth the wait. Steve knows how to play this back-and-forth game of seduction and desire, and he’s going to play it right with Eddie. He’s a clumsy flirt in front of other people and cheesy beyond belief, but sometimes he hits the correct notes and he thinks he’s got Eddie’s number right.

“It does count, sweetheart,” he rumbles out, his voice heavy and deep with desire. “Did you know,” he adds, conversationally, like their proximity isn’t boiling the blood in his veins with want, “that no one aside from my mom or my Gramma has ever cooked for me, before?”

“N- No- No one?” Eddie breathes out, his voice no louder than a whisper as he stumbles over his words. Steve relishes in the way his inhuman pupils have dilated, the way his breathing has gone ragged, heavy in the meager space between them. Steve licks his lips, immediately clocking the way Eddie’s gaze locks onto and tracks the path his tongue takes with something like wildness behind those dark, hickory eyes.

“No one,” he replies, his lips just barely brushing against Eddie’s cheek as he speaks. He can feel the way the skin of his neck tightens while Eddie swallows; hears the clicking sound his throat makes at the action. Steve feels alive in a way he hasn’t in a long time. He’s forgotten how fun it is to flirt when he really wants someone–when there isn’t an audience to make him embarrassed about the corny lines he tends to spew.

“You’re my first, Eds.”

He pulls away from Eddie after his statement, doing his best to hide how affected he is by the starstruck look on his half-monster’s face. Steve feels like he could fly because holy shit, mom was right? The way Eddie sits there, eyes wide and dark, breathing raggedly with the prettiest of blushes coloring his skin from the tips of his pointed ears all the way down his throat to where his collar bones disappear into the collar of that stolen sweater. The delicate color highlighting the planes of his skin is… it’s gorgeous, and Steve wants to sink his teeth into the curve of his neck, wants to bite and leave marks along the angles of his jaw. Eddie looks dazed, one clawed hand clutching at his chest, rising and falling rapidly beneath it as he stares at Steve with glossy, wet eyes like he’s seeing him anew; a deity made flesh, something to worship in reality. His lips are still parted, plush and glistening–begging to be kissed, and it takes all of his willpower to resist, but somehow, miraculously, he manages. Eddie looks like a dream, a temptation demanding to be ravished, and ohhh, how Steve wants.

Instead, he gets up off the couch.

He relishes in the keening whine that tears out of Eds’ throat as he steps away, putting more distance between them, allows himself to delight in the surge of pride that swirls in his gut as Eddie sways unbidden in his direction, instinctively trying to close the distance without realizing he’s even doing it. He can’t help the smug way his flirtatious smirk pulls up on one side at the way Eds’ hand flexes on nothing, desperate to touch that which Steve has taken away. Seeing all of it painted in technicolor before him is the greatest gift he could receive and he feels settled–assured that he’s making the right calls. Because, yeah. Yes, he’s absolutely going to take this leap of faith.

Eddie is worth the fear, the unknown, the potential loss. He’s worth everything.

And so far, it’s looking like his mom was right in that he’s playing a winning game.

He’s got nothing to lose, but everything to gain.

“Well?” he says, raising an eyebrow at Eddie and making a “come hither” gesture with his index finger, “Are you gonna come with me, eat the dinner that you made? Or are you going to languish alone on the couch all night?”

Eddie shakes his head frantically, a squeaking sound tumbling from his mouth as he all but throws himself off the couch and stumbles to his feet. He’s all baby-deer legs and Bambi-eyes as he scrambles to get to Steve’s side; all flailing limbs and pinwheeling tail, desperately trying to counter balance his lurching weight. Steve starts walking backwards towards the door to the kitchen, never taking his eyes off his awkward sweetheart. He lets Eddie get close, lets him think he’s won, lets him think he’s caught Steve–but it’s a ruse and Steve swiftly slips out of reach. It’s a fun little game, and he enjoys the tiny noises of frustration that slip from Eds’ throat when Steve manages to just evade a grasping claw, keeping barely out of Eddie’s range as they slowly make their way towards the kitchen.

When his ankle catches on something on the ground Steve’s eyes widen, his heart lurching in his chest with momentary panic. He pauses, looking down to spot the stray blanket that somehow managed to make its way into the pathway to the kitchen. He jerks his gaze back to Eddie when he feels a strong, talon-tipped hand grip his shirt. The sudden impact throws him off balance, and with the way the blanket hooks around his ankle, he flings his arms out in an attempt to steady himself. He ends up digging his fingers into the meat of Eddie’s arms, but his body’s momentum seems to have caught them both off guard because the next thing he knows, he’s hitting the ground–although the ground feels softer than he remembers?

He blinks open eyes he doesn’t remember closing, staring down at the dazed, flushed face of his half-monster. Those huge eyes are hooded and dark, as his breath comes hot and panting. His talon-tipped hands clench where they rest against Steve’s sides, just above his hips, and one talon has slipped beneath Steve’s shirt, grazing the skin of his flank.

Oh.

Steve flushes, because fuck Eddie looks delicious like this and how they got there is… he must have spun them mid fall to take the impact, since he’s so much larger than Steve is. Bigger and yet so… so submissive, so docile, so sweet.

Shit, that’s really hot… and also stupidly precious.

Eddie stares up at him, blinking hazy hickory eyes, and Steve finally realizes how close their faces are. His breath shudders in his lungs, because oh god, he wants to take Eddie apart, to hear him whine and cry and fall to pieces beneath him–

“Wow. Either you’re the fastest moving guy on the planet, or you’re just some sort of klutzy flirting savant, Bear.”

The sudden, amused comment delivered with such dry humor yanks a surprised yelp from Steve. He jolts upright as his most-hated blotchy blush spreads across his face and down his chest, and he glares at his mom where she leans with her arms crossed against the door frame to the kitchen. She looks smug, tapping the wooden spoon she holds in one hand absently against one arm, a “told-you-so” expression smeared across her face.

“Mom!” he barks, embarrassment oozing from every pore. He’s about to yell at her to go away, but he snaps his mouth shut when he clocks the quiet, pathetic mewling that’s coming from Eddie. The sound sends a rush of molten heat down his spine and Steve jerks his head downward, his gaze locking onto the boy he has pinned under him. His eyes widen at the absolute vision beneath him, greedily taking in the way Eddie’s chest is heaving, a furious flush coloring his cheeks and throat, his head tossed to the side. His hands have dropped from Steve’s hips to the carpet–one is clenched between his fangs in a meager attempt to muffle his noises. Only then does he finally notice the way his thigh is pressed hard against the zipper of Eddie’s jeans, and–

Ohhhh. He’s–

Fuck.

Steve swallows and slowly pulls his leg away, a muffled, gasping whine tumbling from around the finger in Eds’ teeth, between his parted lips, soft but not silent. Steve can see the way those denim-clad thighs tremble, the way the claws of his other hand sink into the carpet pile, skin across his knuckles taut and locked with tension. And… And Steve did that to him… just by—

—Jesus H. Christ, that’s so fucking hot I’m going to die and my mother is right there goddamnit—

“Mom… we’ll be there in a few, okay?”

“Okay,” she drawls, amusement in her tone, “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“Oh my– fucking, shoo, woman!”

Cackling, Arlene retreats into the kitchen. “Spaghetti’s almost done, better hurry up!”

“Okay, mom! Jesus!”

Steve sits back on his heels, giving Eddie some space to calm down as he drops his head into his hands, completely embarrassed at being caught in such a compromising position by his mother. He groans to himself, because goddamnit, everything had been going so well up until then, too! He hadn’t made a fool of himself yet, his flirting was going great! He’s a cheesy, corny dork, but it’d been working! Playful, fun… and then he’d had to go and trip over a fucking blanket like a dumbass–

“Steve..?”

He jolts upright, staring at Eddie with wide eyes. “You okay?” he immediately asks, chewing his lower lip. He’s honestly more concerned about whether or not he crossed a line with the whole… knee-to-dick-accidental-frottage than anything else.

Eddie blinks at him, clearly stunned, before a shy smile spreads across his face along with the darkening of his delicately-pink blush. He tugs a chunk of his curls in front of his mouth, averting his gaze as he pulls his shoulders up. “I- I’m okay. A- Are you hurt?”

“No, no, Eds! Not at all, thanks to you catching me like that…”

Eddie preens a little, shifting in place as his flush darkens further, “Couldn’t let you get hurt…”

“Well, I don’t want you to get hurt, either. Okay?”

Eddie nods, “M’okay. Promise.”

“Good.” Steve nods back decisively before chuckling. “Well, now that we’ve both embarrassed ourselves in front of my mother, ready to go get bullied by her while we eat delicious food?”

Eddie’s grin is wide, exposing all his fangs in all their glory as he nods. “Yes!”

Steve stands up and extends a hand down to Eds with a smile. “Well, then what are we waiting for?”

Eddie takes his hand, his grin softening as he looks up at Steve with a tender affection that makes the little flame behind Steve’s ribs grow just a little bit more.

Yeah…

Steve thinks to himself later, his heart full to bursting as he watches his mom and the man he hopes to build something with interact like they’re already family.

…the risk will definitely be worth the reward.

Nothing ventured, nothing gained.

I’d be a fool not to try.

GO STEVIE!!! YOU GO GET YO MANS!!!!

hello everyone i am deceased, my ghost is writing this.

fucking hELL these past checks calendar NINE days have been actual literal nightmare fuel jesus h christ on a fucking unicycle i would like to sleep for a thousand years now please and thank you.

anyway! this ended up being uhhhhh. longer than i predicted. but hopefully that makes up for the wait. we're gonna get into some more meat of this bad boy in the next installment i think, but we'll see if it doesn't run away from me hahaha

If you don’t want to be tagged or want to be taken off the tag list for any reason, just let me know either in the replies or via DM. I don't bite much.

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xxbottlecapx · 1 month

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Steve and Eddie sure that their friends are safe to come out to about their relationship but quickly finding that Eddie is not safe. Erica would be immediately on his ass, probably saying something to Steve like "you settled for that?" Absolutely riding for Steve, that's her boy, scoops troop for life.

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xxbottlecapx · 1 month

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Fic idea where Steve starts baking as a hobby and Eddie gets overwhelmingly jealous of Steve's sourdough starter because it keeps getting in the way of him and Steve hanging out.

Eddie wants Steve to come over and watch a movie? No, Steve has to feed his starter at a certain time so he's gotta head home,

maybe Steve even gives it a name like some people do and treats it like a pet. Maybe one time Steve brings the starter to a function as his plus one and Eddie is positively seething. Just a full fic of Eddie having beef with Steve's sourdough starter, convinced its alive and trying to stop Eddie from getting laid.

At least the bread always tastes great,though...

#steve harrington #steddie #eddie munson #steve x eddie #stranger things #steveddie #eddie x steve #stranger things s4 #sourdough starter #fic ideas #ficrec

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xxbottlecapx · 1 month

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Flipped steddie au? Flipped steddie au??? FLIPPED STEDDIE AU????? FLIPPED STEDDIE AU FLIPPED STEDDIE AU????

#flipped #flipped the book #like the one with the chickens #seriously it fits so well #im begging #please #someone write this #its what Wendelin Van Draanen would have wanted #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #stranger things #steveddie #eddie x steve #stranger things s4 #fic ideas

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xxbottlecapx · 1 month

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UGH I NEED THEM TO KISS

I just need everyone to know I started writing a Steddie au where Steve is the Angel of Love and ends up falling from grace LITERALLY and falls out of the sky directly landing on Eddie’s lawn right in front of him and Steve knows almost nothing about human life which leads to some pretty funny conversations between them. The story is all over the place right now but i am going absolutely crazy not telling anyone about it

INCLUDING:

“Well forgive me for being a little panicked that some guy just fell out of the fucking sky and landed in my front yard!!” Eddie shouts.

“I’m not a guy!” The Angel shouts back. He’s never shouted before. It kind of felt, well, it felt mean. But it also felt… good. But in a way that scared him.

Comparable to lust.

“Oh.” Eddie says. “A girl, then?”

The Angel makes a face of disgust, confusion. “No!”

“Shit, sorry, uh, non-binary??”

“What?”

Eddie huffs in frustration, “What are your pronouns?”

“My what?”

“Jesus Christ.” He rolls his eyes, “Like, your gender?”

“My…” The Angel scoffs, offended for the second time in his life, “I don’t have a- I’m an Angel!”

“You’re an…” Eddie says and looks up where the Angel had fallen from, “Okay… I think we need to get you the hospital, you clearly have some kind of traumatic brain injury.”

AND:

The Angel leans on his hands only for one of them to buckle beneath him.

“Fuck!” The Angel screams, then immediately covers his mouth with a gasp.

“Why did I say that?! I’ve never-“

“You’ve never said ‘Fuck’ before?” Eddie asks, the shakes his head, “Not important. Are you-“

The Angel cradles his arm to his chest, but squeezes it too hard, and then he screams again.

“What is happening?!” He shouts in pained frustration, holding his arm out to examine it.

“You’re in pain.” Eddie says quickly, kneeling down beside him. “I mean, of course you’re in pain, you fell from the fucking sky, Jesus Christ-“ he mutters more to himself than to the Angel.

“Im- this is what pain feels like?” He lifts his arm, where the feeling is the strongest, “This is just- I mean this is… awful! This is- is just plain evil!”

Eddie guffaws, “yeah, it’s not great.”

“Why am I not healing?” The Angel asks, more to himself.

“Uh…” Eddie doesn’t know how to answer that

“Why would anyone need to feel this- this agony?” He wails.

Eddie raises his eyebrows, takes his hurt arm in his careful hands, “Gonna have to take that one up with your creator.” He says, clearly being sarcastic, clearly joking.

The man does not catch the sarcasm.

“Oh believe me, I will. As soon as I get back up there, I-“ He stops mid-sentence as it hits him. He is never getting back up there. He is among the fallen.

“Does this hurt?” Eddie asks, putting featherlight pressure on his wrist that was already starting to bruise up his forearm.

“Fucking Christ!” He squeals in anguish before quickly covering his mouth again, “Why am I speaking like this?!” He says, his voice cracking. He squeezed his eyes shut tightly and whispers, “Please forgive me.”

“I forgive you.” Eddie automatically replies, rolling his eyes in the process.

The man’s eyes snap open, “I wasn’t talking to you!”

“Well, I’m the only one here.” Eddie says, matching his uppity tone. Eddie notices the very clear lump on the top side of his arm, right above his wrist and he’s about 99% sure that’s probably bone.

He swallows thickly in attempt to not throw up.

“Can you move your fingers? Here, try to squeeze my hand.” Eddie lays his palm in the strangers’ and waits for him to squeeze but nothing happens.

“Are you gonna squeeze?” Eddie asks, expectantly.

“I am!” He says defensively, but he clearly isn’t able to move his fingers.

Eddie gives him a worrying look and lets go of his hand. The guy brings his injured arm back to his chest, but is careful not to apply any kind of pressure.

“Well. The good news is that you somehow survived a fall from-“ Eddie looks up, sees nothing but clear blue sky, “Somewhere…”

“Heaven.” The man corrects.

“Right.” Eddie nods slowly, “the bad news is that your arm is definitely broken.”

“What’s broken about it?” He asks dumbly.

Eddie makes a face, “Your… bone?”

“That can happen?!” The Angel is once again, shocked, completely appalled.

“Uh yeah? It’s a fucking miracle that’s the only bone that was broken.” Eddie says as he gives the man a once over, not seeing any other clear signs of trauma. Physical trauma, anyway.

“How did I get bones…” the Angel mutters to himself in disbelief.

“What do you- Hopefully you were born with them?” Eddie says. What the fuck did he mean how did he get bones?!

Eddie is getting more and more confused the longer this conversation goes on.

“I was never born. I was made.” He says forcefully, like Eddie is the insane one in this conversation.

Eddie thinks that is a weird way to say conceived. “Oh yeah? Made of what? Pixie dust?”

The man, or “Angel” squints at Eddie like Eddie is dumb.

“Of light.”

AND:

While in the hospital, Eddie thinks they should have some kind of story put together.

“Oh uh, my hus… boyfriend, here, um… sss-…teven- Steve, I mean-“

“Steeeve?” The guy repeats, clear confusion in his voice. Like he had never heard that name in his life. Oh for fuck’s sake.

“Yes!” Eddie shouted, shooting “Steve” a look, “My boyfriend Steve, he fell, as we said, broken arm and all,” Eddie forces a laugh, “Uh, but anyway, the fall was from pretty high up, and-“

“Exactly how high?”

“Um. From a roof- my roof- OUR roof.” He says quickly.

“From Heaven!” The guy, newly Steve, calls over with a loopy smile.

“Our really high roof!” Eddie corrects nervously, Eddie’s pretty sure the morphine they gave him is kicking in. Hopefully they’ll think he’s just loopy from that.

“Uh, anyway, he hit his head pretty hard, I think. Like really hard. Is there any way you could check for some kind of… concussion or, I don’t know, severe… brain… injury?”

“We could check him out, sure. Is he showing signs of head trauma?”

“Oh yeah. Big time.” Eddie says. The guy thinks he’s an Angel for fucks sake.

The doctor clicked his pen, and began scribbling something down.

“Any nausea or vomiting since the fall?”

“Uh, no.”

“Any dizziness, vertigo? Incoordination?”

“Well, no-“

“Any sort of vision or hearing changes?”

“No, I don’t think so, but-”

“Any confusion at all-“

“Yes! Big time confusion! Uh- lots and lots of confusion.” Eddie says a little manically.

“Can you be more specific?”

“Uh…” Eddie hesitates, looking between Steve and the doctor. How the fuck is he supposed to explain that this guy thinks he’s a fallen Angel.

The doctor furrows his eyebrows, then steps close to Steve.

“Hi, Steve.” He smiles warmly.

“Hi.” Steve smiles, “Ow.”

He flinches as the doctor shines his pen that doubled as a flashlight directly in his eyes.

“Do you know where you are right now?” He asks, alternating the light between both eyes to check their dilation.

“Obviously.” He says, squinting away from the doctors pen light. “I’m on earth.”

Eddie motions to Steve roughly, like, see what I mean?!

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xxbottlecapx · 1 month

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I want to crawl inside this fic and sleep there

INCLUDING:

“Well forgive me for being a little panicked that some guy just fell out of the fucking sky and landed in my front yard!!” Eddie shouts.

“I’m not a guy!” The Angel shouts back. He’s never shouted before. It kind of felt, well, it felt mean. But it also felt… good. But in a way that scared him.

Comparable to lust.

“Oh.” Eddie says. “A girl, then?”

The Angel makes a face of disgust, confusion. “No!”

“Shit, sorry, uh, non-binary??”

“What?”

Eddie huffs in frustration, “What are your pronouns?”

“My what?”

“Jesus Christ.” He rolls his eyes, “Like, your gender?”

“My…” The Angel scoffs, offended for the second time in his life, “I don’t have a- I’m an Angel!”

“You’re an…” Eddie says and looks up where the Angel had fallen from, “Okay… I think we need to get you the hospital, you clearly have some kind of traumatic brain injury.”

AND:

The Angel leans on his hands only for one of them to buckle beneath him.

“Fuck!” The Angel screams, then immediately covers his mouth with a gasp.

“Why did I say that?! I’ve never-“

“You’ve never said ‘Fuck’ before?” Eddie asks, the shakes his head, “Not important. Are you-“

The Angel cradles his arm to his chest, but squeezes it too hard, and then he screams again.

“What is happening?!” He shouts in pained frustration, holding his arm out to examine it.

“Im- this is what pain feels like?” He lifts his arm, where the feeling is the strongest, “This is just- I mean this is… awful! This is- is just plain evil!”

Eddie guffaws, “yeah, it’s not great.”

“Why am I not healing?” The Angel asks, more to himself.

“Uh…” Eddie doesn’t know how to answer that

“Why would anyone need to feel this- this agony?” He wails.

Eddie raises his eyebrows, takes his hurt arm in his careful hands, “Gonna have to take that one up with your creator.” He says, clearly being sarcastic, clearly joking.

The man does not catch the sarcasm.

“Oh believe me, I will. As soon as I get back up there, I-“ He stops mid-sentence as it hits him. He is never getting back up there. He is among the fallen.

“Does this hurt?” Eddie asks, putting featherlight pressure on his wrist that was already starting to bruise up his forearm.

“I forgive you.” Eddie automatically replies, rolling his eyes in the process.

The man’s eyes snap open, “I wasn’t talking to you!”

He swallows thickly in attempt to not throw up.

“Can you move your fingers? Here, try to squeeze my hand.” Eddie lays his palm in the strangers’ and waits for him to squeeze but nothing happens.

“Are you gonna squeeze?” Eddie asks, expectantly.

“I am!” He says defensively, but he clearly isn’t able to move his fingers.

Eddie gives him a worrying look and lets go of his hand. The guy brings his injured arm back to his chest, but is careful not to apply any kind of pressure.

“Well. The good news is that you somehow survived a fall from-“ Eddie looks up, sees nothing but clear blue sky, “Somewhere…”

“Heaven.” The man corrects.

“Right.” Eddie nods slowly, “the bad news is that your arm is definitely broken.”

“What’s broken about it?” He asks dumbly.

Eddie makes a face, “Your… bone?”

“That can happen?!” The Angel is once again, shocked, completely appalled.

“Uh yeah? It’s a fucking miracle that’s the only bone that was broken.” Eddie says as he gives the man a once over, not seeing any other clear signs of trauma. Physical trauma, anyway.

“How did I get bones…” the Angel mutters to himself in disbelief.

“What do you- Hopefully you were born with them?” Eddie says. What the fuck did he mean how did he get bones?!

Eddie is getting more and more confused the longer this conversation goes on.

“I was never born. I was made.” He says forcefully, like Eddie is the insane one in this conversation.

Eddie thinks that is a weird way to say conceived. “Oh yeah? Made of what? Pixie dust?”

The man, or “Angel” squints at Eddie like Eddie is dumb.

“Of light.”

AND:

While in the hospital, Eddie thinks they should have some kind of story put together.

“Oh uh, my hus… boyfriend, here, um… sss-…teven- Steve, I mean-“

“Steeeve?” The guy repeats, clear confusion in his voice. Like he had never heard that name in his life. Oh for fuck’s sake.

“Exactly how high?”

“Um. From a roof- my roof- OUR roof.” He says quickly.

“From Heaven!” The guy, newly Steve, calls over with a loopy smile.

“Our really high roof!” Eddie corrects nervously, Eddie’s pretty sure the morphine they gave him is kicking in. Hopefully they’ll think he’s just loopy from that.

“Uh, anyway, he hit his head pretty hard, I think. Like really hard. Is there any way you could check for some kind of… concussion or, I don’t know, severe… brain… injury?”

“We could check him out, sure. Is he showing signs of head trauma?”

“Oh yeah. Big time.” Eddie says. The guy thinks he’s an Angel for fucks sake.

The doctor clicked his pen, and began scribbling something down.

“Any nausea or vomiting since the fall?”

“Uh, no.”

“Any dizziness, vertigo? Incoordination?”

“Well, no-“

“Any sort of vision or hearing changes?”

“No, I don’t think so, but-”

“Any confusion at all-“

“Yes! Big time confusion! Uh- lots and lots of confusion.” Eddie says a little manically.

“Can you be more specific?”

“Uh…” Eddie hesitates, looking between Steve and the doctor. How the fuck is he supposed to explain that this guy thinks he’s a fallen Angel.

The doctor furrows his eyebrows, then steps close to Steve.

“Hi, Steve.” He smiles warmly.

“Hi.” Steve smiles, “Ow.”

He flinches as the doctor shines his pen that doubled as a flashlight directly in his eyes.

“Do you know where you are right now?” He asks, alternating the light between both eyes to check their dilation.

“Obviously.” He says, squinting away from the doctors pen light. “I’m on earth.”

Eddie motions to Steve roughly, like, see what I mean?!

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xxbottlecapx · 1 month

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So who's gonna write the Ronance Possibly In Michigan AU????

#ronance #nancy wheeler #nancy x robin #robin buckley #stranger things #cecelia condit #short film #fanfic idea #fic idea #ronance fic idea #possibly in michigan

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xxbottlecapx · 1 month

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Thinking about Eddie munson trying to give his athlete boyfriend a kiss on the shoulder only to get a mouthful of tiger balm

#steve harrington #steddie #eddie munson #steve x eddie #stranger things #steveddie #eddie x steve #stranger things s4 #tiger balm #jock steve harrington

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xxbottlecapx · 1 month

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Romcom fic idea where Steve keeps sleeping with eddie's girlfriends on accident.

Like modern au Steve and Eddie don't know each other until Eddie catches Steve with Eddie's girlfriend and Steve had no idea the girl was with someone. Steve and Eddie both dump the girl and go to a diner together but it doesn't go anywhere. Maybe they're in their senior year of hs or something.

This happens again a year later, a few years later, 10 years later, eddies so confused as to why all his girlfriends are cheating on him with the same guy who genuinely has no idea who these girls are when it happens, steves not being malicious and eddie knows that.

until eventually they just fall in love.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #stranger things #steveddie #eddie x steve #stranger things s4 #modern au #fic idea

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xxbottlecapx · 2 months

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So we know that Joe Keery had to wear leggings under his jeans to... contain things? Why haven't we gotten a fic where Steve has to do this in canon? WHY HAS NO ONE WRITTEN THIS YET

imagine THE POSSIBILITIES

#steve harrington #steddie #because ofc im imagining a steddie fic #fic rec #steddie fic ideas #fic ideas

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xxbottlecapx · 2 months

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Dustin throughout this entire chapter: something GAY is happening

7 ▰▱▰▱ Take Me Home (Please Stay With Me) ▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱

"came back wrong" post-s4 fanfiction, featuring monster kas!eddie. pre-steddie -> steddie

minors DNI please, Steve has some S P I C Y thoughts, although nothing too explicit yet.

Part I┊Part II┊Part III┊Part IV┊Part V┊Part VI┊Part VII (You are Here!)

Steve can’t breathe. He- He’s half-convinced he’s stuck in some sort of extremely vivid fever dream, because by god if that isn’t the voice he’s been longing to hear since it was lost to him, living only in memories already starting to fade. It’s quiet and slurred, hot breath ghosting by the shell of his ear and raising goosebumps across his skin. His hands clench hard into the meat of Eds’ thighs where they splay wide across his own, and fuck, he’s gifted with another gasp of his name–slurred out around too-large teeth and panting, heated breaths.

“...TheEve!”

Shit, but he’s never wanted to lick the echo of his own name out of someone else’s mouth like this. It sounds so incredible coming from the gorgeous creature in his arms, breathy and pitchy and needy–he’s never heard Eddie like this before, never thought he would. The music from his mouth is the sweetest symphony he’s ever had the pleasure of hearing and hell, he’ll put it on a tape and call it his Vecna song in a heartbeat; play it on repeat until the tape unravels and falls to pieces. Being able to hear him like this is something out of his darkest fantasies–the ones he pretends he doesn’t have in the light of day, only allowing himself to dive into the depraved imaginings in the dark of night when he’s safely wrapped in the sanctity of his own sheets and the privacy of his own mind, taking himself in hand with guilty desperation.

Forcing a deep breath, he manages to wrangle his incredibly inappropriate thoughts down and away–now is not the time, not with Dustin sitting right there and urgh, goddamnit, watching them with those obnoxious all-seeing eyes of his. Steve shoots him a look and jerks his head towards the kitchen, trying to get his brother-in-all-but-blood to give them a minute Jesus Christ kid–to which Dustin gets the memo, heading into the kitchen where Steve knows he’ll help himself to the snacks. Of course, being Dustin, he has to be the most dramatic shithead in the world about it, rolling his eyes so hard Steve’s half convinced he’s gonna roll his own head off his shoulders right along with them.

Once they’re alone in the living room, Steve relaxes his grip on Eds’ thighs, rubbing gentle circles with his thumbs as an apology. The keening whine that escapes the body on his lap is pitchy and soft, and Eds presses his face harder against Steve’s shoulder, burying his nose in Steve’s neck. It’s… cute, the way he’s clinging so tightly despite being so much larger than Steve is. Like a big dog thinking it can be a lapdog, unaware of its own size and simply wanting to be close to its beloved owners like it used to do as a puppy. Steve allows one of his hands to trail up from his sweet boy’s thigh to thread through the strands of his hair-fur, petting gently and soothing the trembles that have started back up again. He’d not expected such a- a profound reaction to his blood, but they’re in uncharted waters here, so Steve supposes anything is possible.

His musings come to a halt when he realizes something is off. He can feel the way his brows pull together as he considers the weight of his monster in his lap, the trembling form in his arms. A long whine drags its way out of Eds’ throat again, reedy and laced with something that he’s not sure he can put his finger on. It almost sounds like he’s in pain, but there’s a layer there in the polyphonic tones that’s heady, making him think of anything other than pain. It’s unhelpful, so he turns his consideration elsewhere. He focuses on the feeling of Eds’ breath coming fast and hot against his neck, dampening the collar of his t-shirt. Strong forearms dipped in inky-blackness tapering down to massive, trembling hands carefully grasping his biceps, ever-conscious of his sharp talons. The plush softness of his lips where they quiver in tiny, wet brushes along his skin. The hard line of his nose where it digs into the soft spot where his traps meet the tendons of his throat—

—wait. That’s- That’s not right. Steve stares into middle distance, blinking as his mind whirls into overtime well beyond the final buzzer. Eddie-monster has that cute smushed nose–the bat-like one–leaf-shaped or whatever. He’s had his face in Steve’s neck so many times over the past several days he knows what it feels like, and it’s never felt hard and bony, never dug in like this. Steve resists the sudden urge to simply fist his hand in the dark mass of curls and just yank his monster’s head back to get a look at his face, because ha! Like that would go over well, most people don’t actually enjoy being dragged around by their hair, Steve, what the fuck. Instead, he slowly brings his other hand up from where it’s remained on his monster’s other thigh, stroking the hair-fur alongside his hidden face so as not to spook him. The quiet crooning whine he receives for the attention he pays makes him smile, a crooked little thing he can feel pulling at his lips, but he has a mission. Carefully, he draws his hand away from the curls and traces down along his monster’s jawline, barely managing to avoid startling at what he feels beneath his fingertips. He bites his lip, forcing himself to breathe normally even as his heart betrays him, picking up speed beneath his ribs.

It’s smooth and angular, sharp like he’s not seen on his monster’s face, not since a time when he’d simply been Eddie Munson, King Freak and super-super senior; the greatest DM this side of Indianapolis, according to the kids. Steve’s heart is galloping in his chest now, because- because this is beyond his expectations. He’d thought maybe they’d get some slight change, something from the blood exchange if Dustin was right, but- but this is so much more. Maybe he really doesn’t need that much blood then, if it only took a single feeding? But no–Steve pauses his racing thoughts, he can’t get ahead of himself. Eds’ body still looks the same. The wings are still there, he’s still got his talons, his tail. His skin is still gray and his limbs continue to look like he’s dunked them in a vat of black ink. Suddenly bold, he drags his curious hand up from Eddie’s jaw to his lips.

It sends a bolt of heat through him when he feels the way his monster’s mouth quivers at the first touch of his fingers, the way wet, plush lips part easily for his questing fingers. He forces his hips to remain still, not wanting to startle or disturb the trembling sweetheart on his lap by drawing attention to the chub he’s sporting in his gray sweats. The fangs are still there, still large and protruding, but the way his lips curve around them feels sensual in a way it didn’t before. Steve desperately needs to see his face. God does he want to know if he’s as gorgeous as he remembers–if he’s still got some more of his monstrous features, how they’re meshing with his human ones. He remembers the proud jut of Eddie’s nose, the strong line it made on his face. He wants to see it again so badly, to know what it looks like when framed by fangs. And- And his eyes. What… What do his eyes look like?

Steve loves his monster’s eyes. The rich, hickory color that sparkles and glows with so much feeling is absolutely gorgeous. He loves how big they are, how emotive. Eddie had really pretty eyes as a human, too. Steve remembers being a bit caught off guard the first time he’d well-and-truly locked gazes with the slightly older man, getting trapped in those eyes that made him think of molten chocolate, of the richest dark earth after the rain. It had made his breath stutter in his lungs even back then, all the way in Sophomore year, but he’d been too cowardly to do anything about it–too caught up in the whole dog-and-pony show of high school hierarchy bullshit, too afraid to admit he might be one of those queers the guys spat on in the locker rooms–and pushed it to the back of his mind. He’d further forgotten about his breathtaking Bambi eyes after meeting Nancy, but being pinned in the boathouse had brought it all roaring back. Right guy, wrong time, he supposes. Of course he had to have those long forgotten feelings dragged out of the dark recesses of his mind out into the daylight during the end of the fucking world, when there were more important things to be focused on, like not dying… and of course, he’d gone and done that, too.

But now he’s here, in Steve’s lap. In Steve’s arms, saying Steve’s name like a prayer; like a plea, and god but he is a weak weak man. He brings his other hand out of the soft curls of his monster’s hair-fur, inching his fingers between Eds’ cheek and his own skin, cupping gently and slowly bringing his head back away from where it’s buried against his neck. He can feel the way his own pulse is rabbiting in his chest, can feel the way his monster is quivering beneath his palms as acutely as his own trembling heartbeat. He swallows, suddenly nervous. He’s got an idea of what he might see when he finally catches a glimpse of his monster’s face, but–there’s so much that’s unknown. He doubts he could possibly be disappointed with any sort of transformation that’s taken hold of his little riot, but he’s going to make sure nothing shows on his face that could make him think otherwise. It’s clear he’s sensitive, and whether that’s just Eddie or the animal part of him, he doesn’t know, but- but maybe if he can talk again—

—Eds lifts his head from where it was turned down and away from Steve, his curls that were curtaining his face from view falling into place like magic as he finally turns his gaze to Steve.

Fuck. He’s so gorgeous.

His face is human-shaped, with the same curves and angles Steve started to memorize during Spring Break–before his death. Steve feels like he’s been hit over the head by a two-by-four with the amount of want and awe that sweeps through him. It’s so clear his sweetheart is nervous, that he’s shy. His hands twitch where they’re gripping the sleeves of Steve’s shirt, like they want to reach up and pull the curls back in front of his face to hide behind. There’s a dusting of the prettiest pink across his cheeks, across the bridge of his nose that’s so delicate Steve can only think of soft flower petals fluttering in a gentle breeze. His eyes are still inhuman, huge and wide, but they’re slightly more proportional to the rest of his features, expressive as ever and sparkling even as he cannot meet Steve’s own gaze for long. His mouth is slightly too wide, plush lips pouting out over the curves of protruding fangs that–while still over-large and bulky–seem slightly smaller, more suited to the recovered size and shape of his jaw. Steve can’t help himself, reaching up to push some of those soft, dark curls away from his sweetheart’s face.

The tender touch makes that pretty pink blush that decorates Eds’ cheeks deepen, an embarrassed-sounding croon escaping him. Steve watches those lips part–still shiny slick and smeared with remnants of Steve’s blood–dark eyes sliding shut as he involuntarily leans into Steve’s touch with a quiet mewling sound. Eddie’s skin is cool and soft beneath his palm, warm only where the skin flushes with color. He lets his thumb press down to stroke delicate circles against the arc of Eds’ cheekbone, watching as he leans into the touch like he’s starved for it. Steve can’t tear his eyes away; Eddie is a vision in his lap and Steve’s hopelessly caught in his spell. He’s half afraid he’s going to wake up, that this will end up all an elaborate, vivid dream because having this? He’d not thought it would be possible.

“Eds,” he whispers, unable to keep the awe from his voice, “look at you, sweet thing.”

With the way Steve’s touching him, he feels the shiver that rocks through Eddie’s body even before he sees it. He watches as goosebumps raise on bare arms, listens as a soft whine escapes from a trembling chest. He cups his other hand around Eddie’s other cheek, pulling down so he can press his forehead against his sweetheart’s. He feels elated laughter burbling in his chest and he doesn't even bother trying to stop it from spilling out uncontrollably. He can feel the tears when they come, rolling heavy down his face and turning his laughter into gasping sobs. He’s so overwhelmed; he’s completely overcome by all his relief, his joy, his love colliding with the imploding force of a dying star. His eyes squeeze shut, lashes soaked with salty tears and heavy with the weight of all his emotions. Eds makes a quiet noise, and the brush of his nose against Steve’s own makes the breath stutter in his chest.

“TheEeve?”

The sound of Eddie’s actual voice is still warbling, tonal and distorted, but the quiet register and the way his breath gusts gently along Steve’s cheeks makes him tremble. God, but this is a gift; Steve doesn’t know what to do with it, he’s just feeling so much. He wants to wrap himself in the sound of Eddie’s words, words he never thought he’d be able to hear from him again outside of memories that would inevitably fade with time, or fantasies dredged up by his desperate mind.

“...TheEve okaAy?”

He opens his eyes, blinking wetly as he meets the concerned gaze of his sweetheart, charmed endlessly by the clearly involuntary crooning noises he’s making. Steve laughs, cracked and fragile as he pulls away just enough to press a shaking kiss to Eddie’s forehead. The surprised sound it punches out of Eds’ chest and the deepening of his flush delights Steve, and he feels his expression softening. Wearing his heart on his sleeve, he allows himself to simply bask in the moment, smiling warmly at the impossible creature in his lap.

“Yeah, Eds. I’m just having a lot of–um, a lot of feelings and they’re a bit much…”

He looks so human with the way his brow furrows, an oh-so-familiar expression of concern taking over his face (god, he’s missed the way his nose crinkles like that–he hadn’t even realized he’d noticed until just now but ohhh, is it adorable) as he leans back into Steve’s space. A subtle vibration passes through his chest into Steve’s, the resonance familiar and comforting. Fondness sweeps through Steve, and he knows he’s got to have the sappiest expression on his face as Eddie continues to charm him without even trying. It’s stupid how gone he is on this boy.

“I… fix..?”

Jesus H. Christ, Steve wants to kiss him so badly it’s ridiculous. Casual intimacy is fine, but… Eddie’s not his boyfriend, he’s not even all the way present yet, cognitively speaking. Steve needs to restrain himself, otherwise he could very easily be taking advantage of him when he’s not fully able to understand what Steve really, truly wants from him… what will fix the hole in his heart. He’s also not delusional enough to think he’ll be one of the lucky ones to reach such a perfect happy ending, and that’s okay. Just being able to hold Eddie like this, to be permitted to touch him, to press chaste kisses to his forehead for now is… it’s fine, it’s great, even. Steve will always want more, will want everything, but he knows that most people in Hawkins aren’t like him–straight folks dominate the population as far as he's aware. He’s in the minority, queer as he is, and that’s just something he’s had to come to terms with. He’s in good company with Robin–and Will, although that’s kind of an unspoken secret, considering the kid hasn’t come out and said anything, but it’s pretty obvious now that Steve knows what to look for.

“No, Eds,” Steve says, shaking his head with a bittersweet smile, “it’s not something that you can fix, sweetheart.”

Eddie huffs, an irritated sub-vocal grumble rattling around in his throat, his wide eyes narrowing as he scans his gaze across Steve’s face. His cheeks puff slightly in the most adorable petulant expression Steve has ever seen on him before in his life, and it takes all his willpower to not pull the little brat in by his hair and kiss him breathless.

“Di- DithagrEe… waAnt to help TheEve, want to fix!” he grumbles again, an irritated sound tumbling from his throat as he seems to struggle finding his words. “Want to make hAppy. No thaAd. Tharthz thparkle, TheEve not thparkling. Wrong. I fix.”

His voice is raspy and soft still, shaky with disuse. Eddie’s words are lisped around the over-large fangs that protrude from between his lips, encumbering his pronunciation but every word that he verbalizes carries a profound weight; an intent that Steve can feel hanging heavy in the air between them like a promise, like an oath. It’s clear that he means what he says, which fills Steve’s chest with feelings he doesn’t know what to do with, because it… it feels a lot like devotion, like commitment, and he knows he’s got to be reading into it too much. He’s plastering his hopes and wants over Eddie, not taking his words at face value and looking for deeper meaning when there is none. Eddie’s just grateful, he tells himself, that’s all. It tastes bitter, but he’s no stranger to swallowing that type of pill.

“Eds, there’s nothing to fix, sweetheart. I promise.”

“But…” the darling creature in his lap whines, bumping his forehead against Steve’s and rubbing their cheeks together with a sad-sounding croon, “TheEve thmellth thad thtill…”

He barks out a laugh. “How can I be sad when you’re talking to me, Eds?”

The question is rhetorical, because hell, it’s the truth. How can Steve possibly be sad when here he is, actually talking to Eddie? He’d never thought he’d get the chance to do this again, and although it’s stilted right now, it’s something–it’s more than he thought he’d ever have.

“I’d resigned myself to never getting the chance to just talk to you again, Eds,” he confesses, gently twining his fingers loosely through some of his sweet creature’s curls as his eyes go distant with memories, a melancholic smile pulling at his lips.

“We never got the chance to really, like, hang out before everything imploded, y’know? I- I- That bothered me, in the aftermath. Dustin was–is, really–so insistent that we would get along, that we would be friends if I would only try to get to know you, give it a chance. But, I didn’t and then it was too late. I resented it–resented myself, ‘cause I let my stupid jealousy cloud my judgment of you instead of actually trying to just, actually get to know you as you are.”

He sighs, tugging gently on a lock of hair-fur between his fingers, gaze fixed on the way Eddie’s face goes slack, hickory eyes glazed with something before he manages to snap himself out of it, refocusing his huge eyes on Steve’s face searchingly.

“I’m… overwhelmed because I have a chance to actually do that with you now. I get a chance to know you, to- to learn who you are, Eddie Munson, because you’re important to the kids, to- to me. You’re kinda’ stuck with me–with us–now, comes with the whole apocalypse package and there’s no refunds, sorry.”

Steve can feel the lopsided smile as it overtakes his lips, hoping it’s crookedly charming and not pathetic-looking and pining. The delighted chirp that comes out of the creature on his lap seems to confirm his hopes–thank god–because Eddie wiggles where he sits across Steve’s thighs, darting in close to nuzzle at Steve’s throat again. It’s a shock to feel the sharpness of a human nose against his skin, but Steve marvels at the bolt of affection that rushes through him, molten desire hot on its heels. Knowing Eds is regaining his more human appearance and his human cognizance only makes resisting even harder but he manages to quell the urges to ravish the gorgeous specimen writhing about on his lap–he won’t overstep, he won’t tread on this tentative first step into something he hopes will be a lifelong friendship before it has the chance to even sprout. Battle-worn trust and trauma bonds can form a foundation, but it’ll take work and consistent proof that Steve is worth keeping around to cultivate whatever seeds may have been sown.

And god, does he want them to take root. He doesn’t even care how they sprout, how they bloom. He just wants Eddie in his life, in whatever capacity Eddie will have Steve. He wouldn’t be able to handle it if he left at this point, and he’s adult enough to admit it. Maybe it’s some flavor of codependency, but Steve’s not well-versed enough in the whole psychology shit to really tell one way or another, so he doesn’t particularly care if it’s necessarily healthy or not. Eddie pulls back from his neck, chirruping and swaying, before bumping his forehead against Steve’s. It’s really cute, and it’s certainly not helping the way his hopeless heart is crying out for the endlessly charming asshole. He wants to be annoyed, but he can’t find it in him to muster up the effort, he’s too soft for Eddie.

“TheEve… want! Want tOo!” Eds warbles, his brow furrowed as he focuses on pronouncing the words.

“You want? Want… want what?”

“TheEve important,” he says slowly, pulling back to stare deeply into Steve’s eyes. That heavy weight is back in his words, that oath-like sincerity that raises goosebumps along his arms. “Want to learn TheEve.”

Steve rears back, blinking rapidly as he feels the heat flood his face. He hates blushing because it’s so obvious on him, spreading fast and bright across his face and down his neck, even reaching the tips of his ears. He’s grateful he’s wearing a shirt at least, because his blushes run all the way down to his chest, blotchy and red, and oh fuck now he’s thinking about being shirtless with Eddie goddamnit nope we’re not doing that right now–

“Uh, you- you want to learn me too?” he tries to keep the hope from his voice, the desperate need to be worth knowing by someone as wonderful as the magnificent being in his lap. He fights the urge to wrap his hands around Eddie’s waist, somehow still so lean despite how much larger he is in scale. Something about this waist has always driven Steve to distraction, ever since he realized how slender Eddie was under all his layers–

Eddie nods his head, curls bouncing as he coos earnestly, the charming display effectively distracting Steve from his less-than-PG thoughts, “TheEve right, tho I learn TheEve too. Learn Thtarth, for coUrtthip.”

Steve’s not quite sure what the last part of his fervently stated declaration means, but he assumes it’s tied up in the whole… animal hindbrain bits still rattling around in Eddie’s awareness. It’s a relief, though, to know that there’s some reciprocity in their feelings between the two of them. It may not be exactly the same, but that it’s there is… it’s good enough. He’d hoped that all the affection they’d been so freely able to share wouldn’t vanish when Eds gained back some of his human cognizance, and so far it seems he’s going to be able to keep it. He’s being selfish–greedy, he knows–but every scrap of affection he can get, he’ll accept with gratitude. He’s a fool, but at least he’s a fool who’s aware that he’s more than halfway in love with someone who’s galaxies out of his league. He’s under no delusions about his chances, especially not with the bombs Wayne dropped about Eddie and girls… even if the “best friend” comment gave him a flicker of hope. Better to not fan those flames any further–if the rumors are true, then it will be a magnificent thing, but based on evidence from the person closest to Eddie himself, it’s seeming like Steve’s gone and started falling head over heels for a straight boy.

It will take some time to climb his way out of the wide, deep hole he’s dug for himself, with these feelings he’s developed for a straight guy, but all things considered Steve doesn’t regret it. Eddie may not technically be the first guy he’s had feelings for, but he’s the first guy he’s had feelings for that he’s wanted to act on, and that’s a whole new exciting experience he can add to the collection of wild events that make up his life. And he’s certainly not going to distance himself from Eddie, even if his feelings are strong. He’d rather cope with his pining feelings and know nothing will come of them than not see him at all–not being able to see Eds makes his breath catch in a panicky way, brings him back to a time where he’d thought Eddie was dead, his corpse cold and rotting alone and abandoned in the Upside Down. Honestly, nothing sounds worse than not being able to see him. That’s never going to happen, no matter how badly his heart aches.

“Well, looks like we’ll both get that chance then, Eds.” Steve leans his forehead against Eddie’s gently cupping his cheek with his hand to feel just a little closer. The contented purr that rumbles out of his sweetheart’s throat and through Steve’s arm makes him smile.

“Are you two done being gross now?”

Steve groans, dropping his head back in exasperation before he rolls his neck to shoot a flat glare at the kid he’s somehow adopted as a brother standing in the doorway. It seems Eddie’s done the same, hunching his shoulders towards Steve and squinting in an annoyed manner in Dustin’s direction, his ears having flattened back as he hisses quietly.

“Seriously, Dustin? That’s what you’re going to say right now? He’s talking again and you’re focused on us being gross?” Steve scoffs, “Uh, also, how the hell are we being gross, exactly?”

Dustin makes a face–the dramatic little shit–and fake gags. “Dude, are you for real? I wanted you two to get along but this is a little more than getting along, man. Eddie’s sitting in your lap!”

Steve blinks slowly.

“So?”

Dustin flails his arms, “So? So?! Steve! This is some- some dating shit!”

“Language.”

“Ohmygod.”

“DaAting..?” Eds’ warbling voice asks, his ears having perked up vertically again, “Like coUrtthip?”

Dustin rears back, “Whoa! You’ve got polyphonics! That’s so cool! Do you think that’s because your vocal cords aren’t fully adjusted? Or is it just from disuse? Oh! Maybe it’s like you’ve got two sets right now, and you’re halfway between them! That would explain the dual tone, and the warped notes and I bet more blood would speed up the process—”

“Dustin. Breathe, man.”

Dustin inhales sharply, a surprised expression crossing his face, “Oh, shit, thanks. Guess I got kinda’ caught up again, sorry.”

“Hey, don’t apologize for that, Dust. You’re just passionate, nothing wrong with that.”

Eddie makes a crooning sound of agreement from his perch on Steve’s lap, squirming slightly as he shoots Dustin a soft, affectionate look. Steve feels himself warm from the inside, full to bursting with so much love for their tiny little family they’ve somehow managed to build in such a short time. He’ll never stop being grateful that Eddie seems to have imprinted on Dustin as much as Steve has, that he’s just as protective if not in a slightly different way. Watching him interact with Dustin in that field before the final battle–he’d thought it jealousy at first, but no that wasn’t it–had filled his stomach with a writhing mass of emotion, and now he can identify it as the longing he knows it to be. He wants Eddie, both to be his and for him to be there with him for Dustin. It’s not jealousy he feels any longer looking between the two of them, watching them together. It’s a sense of rightness, of peace that settles in his bones that everything is exactly as it should be.

“But seriously, you have to know how this,” Dustin makes another face, gesturing to all of Steve and Eddie where he remains perched across Steve’s thighs, “looks? Like. I’m not trying to be an asshole about it, but. This is pretty queer, man.”

“Dustin!”

“What!? It’s the truth! I don’t care if you- if you do like guys or- or if you and Eddie are- are dating or whatever! That’s- That’s fine! That’s great!”

“Dustin!!” Steve snaps again, cursing the blotchy flush that keeps getting darker the more the kid keeps rambling, “you sound like Robin! I get it! You’re great, you’re super supportive and not homophobic at all! Awesome! Only thing is, Eds and I aren’t dating!”

Dustin closes his mouth with an audible click, squinting suspiciously at Steve. Steve rolls his eyes, groaning.

“We aren’t, Dustin! I swear! I think I would know if we were dating! I told you, he’s been very affectionate and attached to me since he recognized me in the Upside Down, but that’s all.” Even if he wants to date Eds, he can’t even consider such a thing until he’s back in his right mind, completely aware and able to fully comprehend what it is Steve so desperately wants from him. Realistically, it’s more likely to end in rejection, but hope springs eternal he supposes.

“Okay,” Dustin says, dragging out his vowels, “If you say so, Steve. But… for the record? I- I wouldn’t be upset if you did date.” He looks down at his feet, shuffling awkwardly in the doorway and fiddling with his fingers, clearly unsure. Steve wants to wrap him up in blankets and reassure him that everything is okay, but he knows Dustin isn’t finished with his thoughts so he keeps his mouth shut and waits for the kid to continue talking. “Actually, it’d- It’d be pretty damn cool… you’re two of my favorite people, and I just want you both to be happy, and it would make me really happy if you were happy together, with each other, y’know?”

The bashfully shy expression on his face is enough to fill Steve’s heart with so much affection he feels like he could burst. Dustin is such a good kid–giant ego and ridiculous attitude aside–his heart and loyalty are something Steve doesn’t take for granted, and he knows he’s incredibly blessed to be able to call the younger boy “friend,” and even more so to call him “brother.”

“That’s really sweet of you, Dustin,” Steve says, smiling lopsidedly in hopes of getting the younger boy to relax. “Your heart’s in the right place and I’m glad you’re so supportive, even if this time you’re a bit off the mark.”

“Off mark. CoUrting, not dating. But yeth, goOd pup,” Eddie coos with a nod of his head that sends his curls bobbing around him in a rolling wave. A pleased rumble vibrates deep in his chest like it’s echoing his words. “Cloud of pupth very good; TheEve betht thire. Happy to take on.”

Steve blinks, completely befuddled by what Eds is saying, the words nothing but gibberish to his ears. A quick glance at Dustin makes it apparent that he must understand what Steve’s monster has just declared. At first Steve thinks maybe it’s some sort of nerdy dork reference, but he’s second guessing that almost immediately judging by the way the younger boy flushes red, almost as though he’s embarrassed by something. Dustin’s eyes are round and huge, his mouth gaping wide at Eddie as the large beast purrs happily in Steve’s lap. Steve is torn between desperately wanting to completely ignore what Eds may or may not have said, and also absolutely needing to know word for word what was stated that made Dustin look like that. He can’t help it, he’s a weak weak man and the creature in his lap is temptation incarnate.

Eddie turns his gaze to Steve, his eyes hooded and full of heat–the way they lock onto Steve’s own sets his blood aflame and he feels his body burn. Steve is viscerally reminded of exactly how weak he is, how difficult the struggle is fighting against his own impulses. He wants to claim that mouth, wrap his hand around Eds’ narrow waist and squeeze, leaving an imprint that only his own grip will match perfectly; dark bruises in the shape of his palms to last for days, telling the world who Eddie belongs to. He wants to sink his fingers into dark curls and yank until his stunning creature’s head drops back and a pretty, pleading whine tumbles out of that gorgeous exposed throat, begging for Steve’s continued attention until the pale skin is marked red, bruised–slick with his saliva and sweat. He wants to drag his teeth up his neck, to leave marks over top of his many mottled scars–to reclaim him from the horrid demobats that stole him away in the first place. He wants to darken Eddie’s flesh with his own teeth, nails, lips and tongue all anew, marking him irrevocably as Steve’s and Steve’s alone.

It’s possessive and dark and dirty as hell; he shouldn’t be having these types of thoughts with Eds in his lap sitting right above his dick god shitting fuck please don’t notice that I’m fucking hard shit fucking damn—

He tries to distract himself, yanking his thoughts around in a sharp U-turn to focus on the fact that they should probably figure out what else Steve’s blood has changed other than Eddie’s sudden ability to speak. With great reluctance, Steve pats his sweetheart’s thigh, drawing his creature’s attention. Eds tilts his head as he gazes down at Steve, his expression going soft and open as he shifts on Steve’s lap, inadvertently brushing tantalizingly close to where his cock sits hard in his sweats. The motion causes the fabric to rub against the head with the barest pressure and his eyes nearly roll back in his skull at the shiver that shoots down his spine. Steve only just barely manages to keep himself from reacting outwardly, fighting the urge to grind his pelvis up against the hips above his own, somehow miraculously avoiding giving away the fact that he’s painfully hard from thinking about how badly he wants to wreck the living temptation in his lap. A questioning sound rumbles out of Eddie’s throat, his tail flicking behind him and brushing against Steve’s legs. Steve watches as Eds’ nostrils flare and his eyes widen slightly, pupils dilating as he’s suddenly hit with the thought–oh fuck, can he smell how badly Steve wants him? Fuckity fuck shitting balls–!

“You’re gonna have to get up at some point today, bud,” Steve says, gainfully ignoring his panic and his raging hard-on, “we should probably see if my blood did anything else, just to be safe.”

Eddie jolts, his back going ramrod straight before he flushes beautifully, the color going from the tips of his ears all the way down his exposed chest like an elegant watercolor wash. (God, Steve wants to bite his way down the path it takes.) Eds squeaks, scrambling backwards off of Steve’s lap, all ungainly limbs and uncoordinated flailing. Thankfully, he manages to avoid stimulating Steve’s boner, and his immediate worry for the clumsy beast crushes whatever arousal he had brewing. Steve reaches out to try to steady him, but the goofy idiot is too busy tripping over his own tail to reach back and with a futile flap of his wings, he tumbles off the couch and lands in a sprawled heap on the floor with a startled squawk.

When it’s clear he’s not hurt, just embarrassed, Steve stifles his snorting laughter by clapping his hand over his mouth, an action which is–annoyingly enough–nearly synchronous with Dustin’s own, the kid also struggling to contain his own cackling laughter. They’re both treated to a petulant, humiliated glare that darts back and forth between them from the ungainly pile of limbs on the floor like some fucked up ping pong match, and when Steve glances over at Dustin to see if he’s fighting back the hysteria just as much as Steve is, he finds the younger boy looking back at him. It’s over when their eyes meet, both of them sputtering out wheezing, cackling, ugly laughter as they’re no longer able to hold it back. Steve doubles over, clutching the arm of the couch and slinging one arm across his ribs, laughing until he can’t breathe. It feels so good to be here like this, laughing genuinely with Dustin again, with Eddie.

Two of his favorite people, alive and well. They’re here with him, and it’s wonderful.

“Guess there’s not gonna’ be any speeches up on tabletops in your near future, huh, bud?”

“Thhut up!” Eds warbles from the floor, clambering up to all fours as has been his standard means of getting around since he’s come through the gate. Steve watches curiously when Eddie freezes once he’s up, an uncomfortable look passing across his more-human face. His monster squints, looking down at his hands and feet like he’s seeing them for the first time. He sits back on his haunches, flexing his hands and examining his rings before staring at his inhumanly-shaped feet as quiet sub-vocal sounds tumble about in his chest. His wings twitch where they sit against his back, his tail flicking in quiet agitation against the carpet behind him.

“Eds? You alright?”

“Yeah, what’s wrong, Eddie?”

Steve exchanges a concerned glance with Dustin, standing up off the couch and making to get closer to where his sweetheart sits on the floor, but the moment he takes that first step forward, Eddie’s head snaps in his direction and he’s pinned in place by hickory eyes that are sharper and more assessing than Steve’s ever seen them. He holds his monster’s gaze despite the sudden racing of his heart, the surge of fight-or-flight that blares in his mind as his veins are flooded with adrenaline. He’s reminded again that although Eddie is his sweetheart, he’s also very much so a predator, even if Steve’s own brain has a slightly screwed up response to his monster in particular. He feels that response happening again the longer he holds his monster’s gaze, that fight-or-flight shifting to something darker. Flight is out of the question because he never wants to abandon such a gorgeous beast, but fight is the wrong word. Eddie is not a creature to be fought, not in the typical sense. Steve wants to control him, to possess him–to have him prostrate at his feet, bending to his will. He can feel his own gaze growing hooded, the dark heat climbing his spine and settling across his shoulders like a mantle as his posture shifts.

He watches as Eddie’s gaze widens and he knows it’s too late to quell that sudden change in himself, that he’s let it crawl too close to the surface but–Eds’ face flushes that pretty shade of pink and he ducks his head, breaking their staredown first to expose his throat. Eds lets out a soft whine that Steve only just barely catches, the sound laced with what rings to his ears as desire, but he’s pretty sure he’s letting his own feelings color his perception. He is surprised, to say the least, that such a predator gave in so easily, but he assumes Eddie must have realized he was putting off an aggressive air because as a human he was the biggest softie Steve has ever met–the man put on a big show, a huge production acting like a tough guy, but like Wayne said, he’s a marshmallow.

“Eds, I’m coming closer.” Steve doesn’t ask but he speaks softly and calmly, approaching with purpose. He kneels down beside where Eddie sits on his haunches on the floor, watching in bemusement as his monster sways into his space almost immediately, whining again.

“Hey, what’s up, sweetheart? What’s wrong?”

Eds butts his head into Steve’s space, replying with sub-vocal sounds rather than words. Steve assumes something new has upset him or confused him, which means Steve’s now got to find a way to pull him out of his own head. Thankfully, he’s gotten pretty good at that over the last few days based on the way his monster reacted when he’d tried before. He goes for his favorite method, sinking his hand into Eddie’s soft curls, digging deep and tugging gently on the grip he gets close to his monster’s scalp. A soft mewl tumbles out of Eds’ throat, hickory eyes fluttering beneath long, dark lashes, his mouth dropping open slightly. Seeing the glazed expression play out across more human features is entirely different than it had been on a more monstrous face and Steve immediately regrets everything–he’s suddenly so incredibly turned on he thinks his dick could probably cut diamonds, that little lockbox of bad-brain-pervert thoughts rattling around in the back of his mind like it's possessed.

“I’d like an answer,” he says, that calm steadiness still heavy in his tone despite the absolute tumultuous mess his brain is in, “c’mon, Eds, tell me what’s got you tangled up?”

“F-Feet…” comes the soft, wavering reply, a whine hanging on every syllable, “wrong. Feelth wrong.”

“Okay,” Steve soothes Eddie’s scalp with his fingertips, dragging his nails across it slowly as he quietly murmurs praise. “Thank you for telling me, you did a great job, little riot.”

“TheEve…”

Steve’s fingers spasm at the way his monster practically moans his name, the sound quiet enough that Dustin probably didn’t hear it but loud enough that it will definitely be featuring in so many fantasies on a fucking loop because Jesus H. Christ now all Steve can think about is getting him to do it again.

“What’s wrong with them?” Steve prompts, tangling his hand at the roots of Eddie’s curls again but not tugging, just holding. “I need you to tell me with words, little riot.”

“A- All four feelth wrong. Don’t know what to do. Confuthed. Need TheEve!”

Ohhh fuck, and doesn’t he wish he could hear Eds say that under different circumstances? Steve exhales and runs his fingers along Eddie’s scalp again, eliciting a purring sound as his monster presses into the touch. “You did try my blood today, and that gave you back your voice. Maybe you should try standing on two legs like me and Dustin instead of four. That might be why it feels wrong. Want to try?”

Eddie nods, turning his head to press his face and lips into Steve’s palm, dark lashes resting against his pale cheekbone, fluttering delicate like a butterfly’s wings. Shit, but if he isn’t fucking gorgeous… Steve pulls away from his monster just enough to stand back up, making sure to keep his hand extended down to graze against Eddie’s head so he knows Steve hasn’t left completely. He hears Dustin moving closer to them from where he was standing in the doorway and Steve quickly shoots him a glance, motioning with his other hand for Dustin to stay put. When he catches a glimpse of the kid, Steve can tell he has so many questions but it’s clear he’s taking Steve’s request to heart and for once isn’t immediately asking all ten thousand of them rapid fire.

Steve turns his attention fully back to his monster, watching carefully as Eds gets his legs under him. He keeps his hand extended, meeting Eddie’s cautious, hesitant hickory gaze with his own steady, assured one. The first grasp of those large, talon-tipped hands slotting perfectly in line with his own feels like a dream, and Steve holds tight, the muscles in his arm flexing as he stabilizes his sweet monster as the seven-foot-plus bulk of him slowly straightens up until he’s standing awkwardly on two legs. He’s hunched slightly, but he’s upright. He’s only taken this position a few times since they’d exited the Upside Down, and usually only when he’d adopted a defensive stance around Steve. Seeing him upright and not posturing is strange but not unwelcome. Steve is still awed by how much bigger Eds is like this, but somehow with those wide, wet eyes he manages to make himself seem small and like he ought to be treated like something fragile rather than the hulking behemoth he actually is. It’s adorable.

“Holy shit, he’s huge.”

Steve barks a laugh, turning his head to cast a grin at Dustin, “He is, isn’t he? It’s really obvious when he stands up like this, so if Eds is gonna be walking around on two legs more often, he’s gonna have to be careful not to knock his head against any door frames.”

Eddie still hasn’t let go of Steve’s hand, staring down at their intertwined fingers like they somehow hold all the secrets of the universe in the spaces between them. Steve squeezes gently, chuckling at the way his monster’s eyes widen and a chirrup jumps out of his throat in his surprise.

“How does this feel?” he asks, his tone soft.

Eddie tilts his head, looking down at Steve with a considering face. He doesn’t reply immediately, clearly trying to find the correct words. “Ith better. Feelth right.”

“Alright then,” Steve nods, “then that’s another thing that drinking my blood has done for you.”

“Yeah!” Dustin chimes in, finally scurrying closer and all but bouncing in place in his excitement, “a single feeding gave you back your voice, at least at a rudimentary level and apparently your whole, uh, animal versus human instinct shebang.”

With a whole body shimmy that Steve reads as self-satisfied, Eds chirps quietly in response. It’s obvious to Steve that Dustin’s statement is good news to his monster, which means it’s good news to him. He smiles. It’s going to be an adjustment getting used to Eds towering over him on two legs rather than following him like a very large, sweet shadow on all fours, but part of him is excited at the prospect. He’s just one step closer to a new normal, one step closer to being human again both in mind and body. Maybe it’s overly optimistic of him, but Steve can’t help the flickering flame of hope that burns in his chest that perhaps, that just maybe, he might have even the slightest chances once Eds is fully back to himself. He doesn’t want to nurture that flame, but he doesn’t want to smother it either. It’s a strange balance.

“Do you feel anything else? Like, are there any other aspects that feel wrong, or like you ought to modify them?” Dustin asks Eddie, wide-eyed and eager. Steve will never admit it to the kid, but he loves when Dustin gets excited about things, totally engrossed in his passion that he practically glows with it. It’s something special, because Steve doesn’t think he’s ever had anything he was that passionate about. He played sports and he was good at them; he swam and played basketball because he’d been trying to win his dad’s approval, because he likes the way his body feels when he pushes it to its limits. And sure, he guesses he can call them hobbies, but he wasn’t ever into either activity like Dustin is into his own hobbies–totally captured by all the intricate details, able to talk about them for hours. He thinks maybe as a little kid he had more hobbies; he has vague memories of doing things with mom, flickering in and tickling the edges of his awareness before jumping back just out of reach. He enjoys watching sporting events too, of course, but sometimes he wishes he had something he could be truly passionate about like Dustin is.

Eds cocks his head to the side at Dustin’s question, and Steve’s attention is immediately drawn back to his monster, watching as those eyes go distant for a brief moment before they dart down to the hand still clutching Steve’s. Eddie frowns, his lips curving out around his protruding fangs in a very appealing plush pout. Steve immediately wants to kiss it–he wants to nip at that thick lower lip until it’s swollen and red, bitten and flushed from his attention–but he knows he can’t act on such an impulse and he clears his throat quietly instead, waiting for Eddie to offer Dustin an answer.

He doesn’t get one. Instead, Steve and Dustin bear witness to Eddie raising the hand still intertwined with Steve’s, squinting at it with deep focus. Steve has no idea what his monster is doing, exchanging a confused glance with Dustin before returning his attention to the way Eds is fixated so intently on their clasped hands. He loves the way his hand feels laced together with Eddie’s, enjoys the strength hidden beneath the gentle grasp and the careful way Eddie handles his deadly talons. The contrast between the inky blackness and the tanned skin of Steve’s hand is stark, the silver of Eds’ rings standing out just like the scarring across Steve’s knuckles. He loves the way his two crooked fingers–broken during the Russian interrogation and never healed quite right–slot so nicely between Eds’ long digits, the over-large knuckles pressing against the elegant, slender fingers of his guitarist-turned-monster. Steve’s breath catches as he suddenly notices Eds’ long talons begin to retract, slowly pulling back into Eddie’s nail beds until finally they’re only about an inch and a half long rather than the impressive length they were before. A pleased rumble vibrates in Eds’ chest and Steve silently marvels as his monster proudly examines his newly shortened nails.

“Leth chance to hurt TheEve now.”

He sounds so proud of himself, his lips spread wide in a toothy grin, eyes curved upwards. Steve can’t help but reach out and reward him for his thoughtfulness, pressing a gentle caress against his jaw with the hand Eds doesn’t have in his grip. His monster leans into the touch with a soft, delighted sound, nuzzling into the skin of Steve’s palm and releasing a slew of happy purring noises from deep within his chest.

“That’s amazing!” Dustin looks like he very well may vibrate out of his skin with how excited he is, “I can’t believe you just retracted your talons like that! Like- Like a cat, but not!”

“Wath eathy,” Eds murmurs, blinking hazy eyes down at Dustin, a fond smile pulling his lips away from his over-large fangs, “felt natural.”

“Do you,” Dustin squints up at Eddie, tapping his chin with a finger and clearly considering his words, “do you know what other abilities you may have?”

A slow blink is Dustin’s immediate answer, followed by a muted croon that Steve interprets as a wordless sound of thought–a placeholder noise. Steve started recognizing those after the first day, the sounds Eddie began to make that were empty of real emotion and simply filled the silence like an “um” or an “uh” would work in human speech. Eds continues to sway into Steve’s space, unable or perhaps unwilling to break contact with Steve’s offered touch, but he turns his full attention to Dustin as his eyes clear.

“Thcreamth, Thcreechth like thpellth? Think I mo- morph? Tranthf- tranthform?” he grumbles, trying to get his pronunciation right around his warbling vocal cords and his over-large fangs. “Think thereth more but… out of reach?” His nose scrunches in his frustration, which only makes Steve want to pepper so many kisses across all the cute little wrinkles that form between his brows and across the bridge of his nose.

Dustin’s hands twitch, and from the tiny gesture Steve immediately knows that his genius kid wants to be writing everything that Eddie has been telling them down, taking extensive notes for posterity or whatever it is that he calls it. For science, Steve! It’s only scientific if I write it all down! He can practically hear the little shit’s voice screeching in his head, rambling about the sanctity of data and all that nerd crap.

“Do you know what you transform into? Mist? Bats? Or- Or is this form what you transform into and you’re talking about a more human visage?”

“Visage? Jesus, Dust, breaking out the fancy words already?”

“You understood it, it’s not that fancy, Steve,” Dustin snarks, his words heavy with attitude and rolling his eyes at Steve in that way Steve now recognizes as nothing but exasperated fondness. It makes him bite back a grin.

“Rude.”

Eds bats the bill of Dustin’s cap with his free hand–seeing as he’s still got the other one intertwined with Steve’s–and knocks it down into the kid’s eyes, earning an indignant squawk from the younger boy.

“Be nice to TheEve, pup,” he growls out, the sub-vocals rumbling deep in his chest, “he ith your thire.”

“Okay! Okay, jeez,” Dustin grumbles, fixing the hat on his head and pouting up at Eddie with the most disgruntled expression Steve’s seen on his face in a while, “who do you think you are? My dad?”

“DaAd?” Eddie warbles, making a confused face that brings out the cute crinkle on the bridge of his nose again. Steve wants to bite it.

Dustin snorts, laughter in his voice, “Yeah, sure. You’re dad, Eddie. Steve’s mom. Obviously.”

“Don’t start that mom shit again, you jackass.”

“Steve, if it looks like a duck, walks like a duck and quacks like a duck, then it’s a duck. You’re a mom, the whole Party knows it. You might as well just accept it, man.”

“Why does Eddie get to be the dad?” He pouts, only half joking, “Why can’t we both just be dads?”

Dustin blinks owlishly, clearly not having expected that response from Steve. “Uh. I mean, you can? Nobody says you can’t… is that really your biggest hang-up on the whole mom thing?”

Steve shrugs, fighting to keep his laughter from burbling out at the dumbfounded look on the kid’s face. Every time he manages to render the little shit speechless it’s the funniest shit in the world. Objectively. “Just think it’s pretty heteronormative of you, Dustybuns. What, can’t two dudes co-parent a whole pack of rowdy teenagers? Why’s one of us gotta be a mom to do that?”

Dustin blinks rapidly and shakes his head a few times like he’s trying to clear the fog from his brain, and Steve bites the inside of his lip to keep from absolutely losing it. An oof is knocked out of him, along with his breath as a weight settles heavy across his shoulders, long arms wrapping snugly around his middle. A deep purring vibrates from the chest pressed up against his back, reverberating through his whole body with a strength that leaves him feeling dizzy. Steve feels his monster bury his face into that space between his shoulder and his neck, nuzzling and unashamedly breathing Steve in. He feels the way his facial expression softens from surprise to something fond, bringing one hand up to tenderly stroke along the side of his monster’s jaw. He lifts his head away from Steve’s neck, leaning into the touch of Steve’s palm as the purring sound gets louder.

“TheEve thuch good thire… TheEve wantth me to help? TheEve… wantth to co-paArent with me?”

The words are warbling, heavy with feeling and rife with disbelief. It’s as though Eddie can’t believe Steve would consider him as a member of their little group–as though he isn’t just as important to the half-feral pack of shithead gremlins as Steve is. To think that Eddie believes he hasn’t earned a place with them, doesn’t deserve a place at their weird save-the-world table is unfathomable, completely incorrect in every possible way. Eddie is such an important person to them, for so many reasons. It breaks Steve’s heart a little that he can’t see that and he refuses to let this assumption stand.

“Of course I would, Eds. You know how much those dipshits adore you. I’d love to have you, you’re a great help.”

He’s met with heavy silence, ratcheting up the nerves brewing in his gut. When he can’t stand the suspense any further, he turns his head to get a better look at his monster’s face, hoping to glean some clarity into his thoughts or some insight on the situation. However, the awed starry-eyed expression he’s met with is enough to stop him dead and make his breath stutter in his lungs.

Eddie looks as though he’s been struck dumb, his eyes huge and wet, glittering and over-filled with rapturous wonderment that sets Steve’s nerves on fire. He looks as though he might cry with the sheer amount of emotion Steve can read in every inch of his face, in the way his plush lips tremble around his over-large fangs and with each hitching breath he can feel quavering against his shoulders and back. A low whine that seems to have been building for some time in Eds’ throat finally spills over, shaky and quiet but riddled with desperation as he buries his face back in Steve’s neck, nuzzling so deeply it’s as though he’s trying to hide away from the world in the comforting familiarity of Steve’s skin. A wetness almost immediately begins to form against Steve’s neck and involuntarily Steve finds himself making soft sounds of comfort out loud, responding to his monster’s distress as he clings tightly to Steve, those newly-shortened talons sinking into the fabric of his shirt but not getting anywhere near his skin. Even emotional, Eddie still holds him so tenderly and Steve’s heart is so full of love he fears he might burst.

“Really..?”

His voice is trembling, quiet and desperate for reassurance. Steve doesn’t hesitate.

“Of course, sweetheart. You’re one of my favorite people, Eddie Munson. I always want you with me.”

The quiet whine he receives to his soft words makes his chest hurt, fondness spilling over as he rocks back and forth slightly, soothing the quivering behemoth clinging to him like Steve is the only thing keeping him afloat. He knows that the more blood Eddie gets from him, the less he’s probably going to need these comforts from Steve; so for now, he savors them with his whole heart. He’s falling in love with a boy so kind, so incredible–a true opposites attract scenario that’s like something straight out of one of those trashy romance novels you buy at the airport–that he feels as though it’s nothing but a dream. If it is, he doesn’t want to wake up.

“So… not to burst your little not-dating bubble, guys, but uh. How exactly is keeping Eddie here going to go? ‘Cause it’s obvious he can’t fully look after himself yet, and he probably doesn’t want to be alone, right?” Dustin’s voice wrenches Steve back to reality, and the cold-hard slap of it settles into his bones with a healthy supply of dread.

“Shit, yeah. I can’t keep calling off of work, and a bunch of you guys still have school… shit, I had hoped I could get him settled before this became an issue, but...”

“Who else knows about Eddie again?”

“Um, Nance and Robin, but they’re both still in school. Ms. Byers and Hop, too, but he’s busy with the suits and lassoing the police force—”

Dustin is cackling. “Lassoing? What the hell, Steve? He’s not a cowboy!”

“—Jesus, kick rocks, asshole! You know what I mean! He’s probably gonna step down as chief of police soon, anyway. He said he didn’t want the position back even though Powell basically threw the hat and the badge at him after the whole… spring break disaster.”

“I dunno, Chief Hopper might tough it out; El seems to think he’s got more in him. Oh! Maybe Ms. Byers can help us?”

Steve frowns thoughtfully. Eds did like Ms. Byers, and she’d charmed him very quickly, too. It couldn’t hurt to ask… if she’s available, of course. “Is she still working the telemarketer job? She can do that from home, so she could technically do it from here if she’s still with the company.”

“I can ask Will?”

Steve cringes, “I mean, be subtle about it? They all promised to keep their mouths shut about Eds–I know Hop’s still working on clearing his name with the Feds and I’m not about to put his life at risk.”

“Fair enough.” Dustin nods, tapping at his chin as he considers, “I’ll ask but I’ll be cool about it. Say you need a favor, or something.”

Steve shrugs, “I mean I guess that works, if Will really needs to know what’s going on he can always call or just show up like you do, I guess.” He rolls his eyes, “It’s not like I’m gonna’ turn away Baby Byers if he turns up on my doorstep looking like a wet cat left out in the cold.”

“I’m telling him you said that.”

“Screw you dude, don’t you dare! He’ll fucking cry! And then I’ll get punched by Jonathan for making him cry! Dustin! Dustin!! Hey!! Oh, get back here you little shit–!”

The rest of the day is spent goofing off, Eddie clinging tightly to Steve’s side as he basks in Dustin and Steve’s banter. Steve cooks enough dinner for four, packaging up the final portion for Claudia when she swings by to pick up Dustin. He watches fondly from the doorway as they drive off, hoping she gets some rest after what was undoubtedly a long, exhausting shift at Hawkins General.

“Dustin gone?”

“Mmhm,” Steve replies, leaning back into the solid presence that comes up behind him as he shuts the door. Long, strong arms wrap around his torso, clawed hands pressing tenderly against his chest, over his heart. A rumbling purr vibrates through the hard body behind him, soothing in its familiarity and he sighs in contentment. Eddie’s chin tucks against his shoulder, his nose butting up against Steve’s neck, breathing him in.

“Couch? Cuddle?”

“Sure, sweetheart,” he says, smiling as he strokes the side of Eddie’s face. “That sounds great.”

He’ll worry about everything else tomorrow. For now, he’s not going to let anything stop him from enjoying the time spent being held tenderly and so, so safe in the arms of his monster–the sweet, wonderful boy he’s falling fast and hard in love with. He doesn’t know how long he’ll be able to keep this–this tenderness, this intimacy–but he’s going to treasure it for as long as he can. It’s so unbearably precious, more valuable than all the riches of the world, and he’ll never take it for granted.

HE HAS HIS VOICE BACK Y'ALL!

*bangs pots and pans*

AND YET THEY STILL CAN'T COMMUNICATE

put me out of my misery i can't with these two morons anymore

Anyway, welcome to the next era of STEVE IS A FUCKING UNRELIABLE NARRATOR and EDDIE HEARTEYES MUNSON IS INTO GODDAMN HIMBOS.

please help me i am so trapped by these fucking clowns.

As of this update, the perma-list on the main post is full! Don’t worry, you can still ask to be tagged! Your name will just end up in the replies, rather than the main post. I won’t forget you, I had to make a spreadsheet to keep track of all of you, which is fucking wild to me but i’m so goddamn flustered and blushy and skfnalsghaso about it so it’s whatever i guess.

If you don’t want to be tagged or want to be taken off the tag list for any reason, just let me know either in the replies or via DM. I don't bite much.

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