neverthebabysitter

Latest Posts by neverthebabysitter

I had the funny thought of a soulmate au in which you can hear your soulmate’s thoughts specifically when they think about you, so you what their thoughts regarding you and whatnot, very cute could be very funny.

But I imagine Steddie still in high school. Steve not really thinking about Eddie in particular besides the occasional passing “what is he doing on that table”, “I wonder if he is selling after school today” and once a “that’s a cool jacket” which leaves Eddie on a high for the rest of the week.

Steve in the other hand keeps hearing the most raunchiest, horny, things imaginable sitting in class like “this girl wants to do what to my ass???”

Harlequin Prince

Part of: Steve Deserves Good Parents, Actually Debbie and Fester Addams One | Two Rick and Evelyn O'Connell One Harley Quinn One (you're here!) 10th Doctor and Rose (on the way! might take a little, I have plans for this one) Scooby Gang (there are also plans for this one lmao, so plz be patient with me orz)

I'm a simple woman who believes Steve deserves to be a little unhinged sometimes, and having Harley Quinn as a mother is the perfect excuse to make that happen lol

Anyway, I know I haven't updated some of my other series in a hot minute; I've just been busy with work and a little sick ngl

If you'd like to be tagged for any new parts in this series, let me know!

And, as always, if you see any typos, no you didn't ;)

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Steve's earliest memory is of being tucked into bed with a Batman night light plugged into the wall and his mother squeezed in next to him. She's wearing her softest pajamas, and Steve idly rubs the fabric under his thumb. In her lap is a huge book that she flips through, humming "Pop Goes the Weasel" under her breath before finally stopping on a page. "Okay, Dumplin', let's read about Narcissistic Personality Disorder," she finally says, wiggling some to get comfortable before clearing her throat.

Her voice is soft and a little nasally, and Steve obediently closes his eyes when she starts reading. After a few minutes, she gently cards her fingers through his hair, her palm warm as it slides over his scalp. Eventually, he drifts off, his dream so vivid that he still remembers the oversized hammers with their white doctor coats and floating clipboards.

The first time Steve's mother is sent (back) to Arkham, he doesn't realize anything is wrong until Uncle Bruce picks him up from school. Steve had been waiting long after the other kids were picked up by their parents, a misshapen pink-and-blue coaster for his mother that he made in art class in his hands, when one of Uncle Bruce's fancy cars pulled up to the school.

The passenger window rolled down, and Bruce looked almost pained as he met Steve's eyes. "Hop in," he said, leaning over to open the door from the inside.

Steve walked up to the door but didn't get in. "Mom said I should only go home with her," he said, "unless you know our secret code."

"Cognitive Behavioral Therapy."

Steve stood for a moment longer before nodding and climbing into the passenger seat. He closed the door, pulled on his seat belt, and carefully held the coaster in his lap. "Where's Mom?" he asked, watching as Bruce turned down the radio and slowly pulled away from the school.

"Your mother is....going to be away for a while," Bruce said, gripping the steering wheel tighter. "She did something bad, and now she's going to stay in time out because of it."

"Mom says you shouldn't dumb things down just because I'm young. She says it's not good for my development."

Bruce got a slight smile at that, his lips twitching up as he glanced at Steve. "Is that so," he said, his grip on the wheel loosening some. He seemed to think for a moment before saying, "Your mother blew up a warehouse. She was apprehended by Batman and has been sent to Arkham for a few months. Since I'm listed as your godfather, you'll stay with me until she's released."

Steve didn't reply. He just looked down at his coaster and wondered if he'd be able to convince his Uncle Bruce to visit Arkham so he could give it to her.

He did not, in fact, get to visit her at Arkham during that stint. But Steve did get to visit on her next one, which was almost three years later to the day. Steve's first visit to Arkham was on his 8th birthday, and he was chaperoned by Uncle Bruce and Nightwing (he wasn't allowed to call Dick by his real name when he was in costume, so Steve just didn't call him anything at all).

That was also the first time Steve truly experienced Arkham's lax security. Through no fault of his own (and he would continue to argue this point; how did two superheroes let an 8 year old wander off?), Steve had somehow ended up in another part of Arkham altogether.

This hallway had large cells with reinforced glass walls that allowed Steve to look inside. He could name most of the people he passed, recognizing Killer Croc and Riddler and the Penguin by his mother's descriptions of their defining features. Most of them tried talking to Steve, but he pushed ahead, eager to see if his mother was at the end of the hall.

She wasn't. Instead, Steve found another woman. She had green skin and bright red hair and Steve hadn't been able to contain himself. He'd practically squished his face against the glass and asked, "Are you Poison Ivy?"

"Oh, her he talks to," the Penguin said, his tone mean and his voice carrying.

Poison Ivy ignored him, choosing to instead open one eye from where she lay on the bed. She stared at Steve before sitting up. "Do I know you?" she asked.

"Nope! But my mom knows you. She talks about you all the time. She said you're the baddest badass to ever badass," Steve said.

"Oh. You're Harley's kid," Poison Ivy replied, walking over to the glass and crouching down to meet his gaze. "What are you doing all the way over here?"

"It's my birthday, so Uncle Bruce said I could see Mom."

"Well, happy birthday. Now, what are you doing here?"

Steve blinked, looked around the hall again, and realized for the first time that he was, in fact, a bit lost. "Uh, I'm not sure. I was with Uncle Bruce before."

A moment passed between the two of them in which Poison Ivy said nothing while Steve tried to remember how, exactly, he'd ended up here. When he came up blank, he simply shrugged and looked back at her. "Hey, you like plants, right?" he asked.

"Yeah, kid, I like plants," she said, her tone taking on the same inflection his mother's did when he asked something she thinks is obvious.

Steve didn't linger on the tone. Instead, he dug around in his coat pocket for a few seconds, pushing past candy wrappers and erasers until his hand closed around an acorn he'd picked up off the ground a few days ago. He pulled it out and presented it to Poison Ivy on his palm. "Is it still a plant if it fell off the tree?" he asked.

"Yeah," Poison Ivy said, her voice soft like she was staring at something unbelievable. Steve watched as a huge grin spread across her face, her eyes lit up, and she pressed her hands to the glass. "Can you do me a favor, Steve?" she asked.

"Sure! Mom said you're a person I should listen to," he said, starting to close his fingers around the acorn. Now that he was thinking about it, he didn't actually know how to give the acorn to her with the glass between them.

"Your mom is right. You should always listen to me. And her. But mostly me right now," Poison Ivy said, her gaze a bit softer as she looked at Steve. "So, go ahead and put the acorn on the ground and stand as far away as possible."

Steve didn't question her. Whatever Poison Ivy wanted to do would probably be fine. After all, Uncle Bruce didn't warn him about talking to her like he had about the Joker. So, Steve put the acorn down and hurried to the other end of the hall. "Now what?" he shouted.

The only response he got was the acorn shuddering, spinning across the floor, and then bursting open. In the blink of an eye, a tree grew, its roots breaking through the ground and its branches shattering the glass of Poison Ivy's cell. Steve was just thinking that was probably why Poison Ivy told him to stand back when she walked out, rolling her shoulders and breathing like the air is fresh.

She looked at Steve and walked over, standing in front of him for a moment before sweeping him into her arms. "Thanks, kid," she said, opening her hand and letting a tiny purple flower grow from her palm. She tucked it behind Steve's ear. "Now, let's go find your mom."

Of course, Poison Ivy's escape had set off numerous alarms, and Uncle Bruce just about fainted when he saw her carrying Steve while Nightwing looked two seconds from laughing. But Steve's mom had smiled so wide that her cheeks must have hurt after only two seconds when she saw them.

It was, by far, the best birthday Steve had ever had.

‐-----------------------------

Hawkins, Indiana, is...boring. Steve has only been in the town for a few weeks, and he's bored out of his mind. He could have been sent to Metropolis or Central City. Hell, he would have preferred Bludhaven to the absolute snoozefest that is Hawkins. But, no, Uncle Bruce insisted on somewhere safe, which means somewhere boring, which means...Steve will just have to make his own fun.

That's why he's found himself in a dive bar on the edge of town, sitting at the bar as the owner (a woman named Bev who definitely killed her husband; Steve would know, he's met plenty of women who definitely killed their husbands) refuses to give him anything alcoholic. "Listen, kid," she says, her tone hard and unyielding, "I can give you water, a Shirley Temple, or a permanent ban. Which do you prefer."

After a few seconds, Steve sighs, slaps way more money than is necessary on the bar, and says, "Gimme a Shirley Temple."

Bev nods, swipes up the cash, and starts making his drink. He watches her with a slight frown before looking away, noticing another boy his age wiping down a table. He looks, and Steve cannot say this affectionately enough, like a wannabe goon for a motorcycle gang. Between the bandana stuffed into his back pocket, his slightly frizzy hair falling to his shoulders, and the leather jacket/vest combo, the guy is the first reminder of home Steve has seen since arriving in this sleepy town.

When he notices the guy's shoulders tense, Steve looks away to keep from being caught staring. A Shirley Temple is placed in front of him, and Steve represses a sigh, missing the sounds of fights happening behind him as he drinks with Jason.

"Aren't you a little young to be hanging around here?"

Steve slowly takes a sip of his drink, the saccharine cherry flavor washing over his tastebuds, and glances at an older man a few seats down from him. He looks the man over, lingering on the half-tucked shirt, muddy loafers, and circles under his eyes. Without permission, his mother's DSM-V rushes through his mind, a blur of his mother's voice accompanying the page flips. They finally settle on "Adjustment Disorder," accompanied by his mom saying, "Sometimes, that's just a fancy term for a mid-life crisis, Dumplin'."

Without thinking, Steve asks in return, "Aren't you a little old to still be going through a mid-life crisis?"

In Gotham, that might get him a laugh, an eye roll, and possibly an elbow to the ribs from whichever friend accompanied him. Here, it gets him a tense silence that he only thought happened in bad movies gearing up for a fight sequence. Seriously, what is wrong with Hawkins?

"I'll give you one chance to apologize," the guy says, clearly thinking he's being sufficiently threatening.

It takes every ounce of Steve's self-control to keep from laughing at the guy. Does that usually work? Do people usually find this guy threatening? He's got nothing on Alfred, so Steve just can't bring himself to even fake intimidation.

"Yeah, don't hold your breath, man," Steve says, rolling his eyes as he takes another sip. The Shirley Temple isn't bad, but it's not what he was expecting, and it feels like just another disappointment atop a pile of them.

They're building in his chest, now that he thinks about it. Steve is slowly suffocating under the weight of them. They buzz in his lungs, surging through him until the energy is so overwhelming that he has to bounce his leg and tap his finger against his glass to expel some of it. He shouldn't have agreed to leave Gotham, or at the very least, he shouldn't have left the location entirely up to Bruce. Holy shit, that was a dumb decision. He ought to know better.

A sudden, annoyingly harsh drag of chair legs against the floor rings in Steve's ears, making his shoulders tense and his fingers twitch. He looks over to see the guy standing over him, glaring down at Steve like that's supposed to scare him when nothing else has.

Steve sighs, drinking the last of his Shirley Temple before standing. Over the guy's shoulder, he can see the boy his age watching them, and...well, Steve kind of wants to make a good impression on the first person to remind him of home. Plus, a fight sounds great. He'd love a chance to expel some of this disappointment-fueled energy.

The guy suddenly snorts, pulling Steve's attention back. "You're young, kid, so I'll let you off the hook this time around, but learn some respect."

What? Seriously? All of that, and the guy doesn't even start a fight? Does he know how rude that is? He'd get killed in Gotham. "Oh," Steve says, his voice flat, "you're scared of getting your ass kicked."

Somehow, that's what the guy considers the final straw. It wasn't even that good. Like, that's just fucking small talk in Gotham, and Steve can't bring himself to understand what about it was so infuriating that the guy swings his fist.

Either way, Steve happily embraces the fight. His eyes light up, and adrenaline rushes through his veins as he ducks and kicks the guy's left knee. The familiar sound of a bone snapping rings out. Steve's ready for more, hands curled into fists and held up to protect his face, when the guy drops.

After one kick, he drops. Steve blinks, staring down at the guy cursing and holding his knee. He slowly lowers his hands when he realizes this isn't some kind of fake-out diversion and looks at Bev behind the counter. She's frowning at him, hands on her hips, and Steve comes to the conclusion that bar fights are not, in fact, a thing in Hawkins. "Do they usually go down so easy around here?" he asks.

"They usually don't fight at all."

Oh. Holy shit, this place is boring.

Steve sighs and pushes some hair out of his face, frowning slightly. "Well, uh, sorry about the disturbance, then. I'll just...get going," he says, awkwardly pushing his chair in and doing the same for the guy whose kneecap he kicked. Nobody says anything as he leaves, and Steve shoves his hands into his jacket pockets, frustration and disappointment and homesickness building in him.

He's halfway to his car when somebody shouts, "Hey! Wait!"

With a huff, Steve stops and turns, his mood only lightening when he sees the boy that was wiping down tables. He waits patiently, watching as the boy runs up to him and holds out a wad of cash. "Bev said to give this to you," he says.

"What, is my money not good enough?" Steve asks, raising an eyebrow at the cash before looking up and meeting brown eyes.

"No, no," the boy says, "Bev only gives change to people she likes. She said you're welcome to come by and kick Phillip's ass whenever you want."

Steve blinks, studying the boy for any signs of lies. When he doesn't find one, he takes the cash and nods. "Good to know," he says.

"Yeah. Right. Um, I'm going back inside now."

"Hold on," Steve says, grinning when the boy listens and stands still. He takes a step closer, holds out his hand, and says, "My name's Steve. I'm new around here, if you couldn't tell."

The boy stares at his hand for a few seconds before taking it, the rings on his fingers pressing against Steve's skin. "Eddie. I could tell," he says, his shoulders relaxing some. "Where you from?"

"Gotham."

"Holy shit, no wonder you looked so ready for a fight," Eddie says, staring at Steve like he's incomprehensible. Steve tries not to preen under his gaze. "Hawkins must be dead compared to Gotham."

"Yeah," Steve agrees, glancing down at his and Eddie's hands still clasped together despite the handshake being over. "But I think I'll have some fun anyway."

u guys like holy shit steve harrington woah

I love only child Steve Harrington, but how about I suggest something else that's really angsty? Stay with me here, please.

CW Ahead: Death of a Sibling, Grief/Mourning, Minor Suicidal Ideation, Steve's Sacrifices to Prove Self-Worth

Steve Harrington had a twin. They were identical.

They'd chase each other around in the Indiana sun, when it was at its lowest, grass green in the field, lightning bugs about. Barefoot in the backroads, dust particles, laughing until their stomachs hurt. Riding their bikes up and down their street, seeing who could go faster. Swimming laps in the pool, trying to beat the other.

Their parents are happy. A good marriage. Lovely kids. Living that smooth, good life.

Both of them super young when it happens. He and his twin are roughly...12? 13? Middle school age.

It's another summer night. No school. Not a care in the world. The Harrington family go out of town for a lake house vacation. Steve and his twin swim laps and laps around in the lake.

They've got beach toys, playing in the very little amount of sand. Then, Steve accidentally drops his little plastic shovel into the water. It sinks, or at least begins sinking. His twin tells him to stay out of the water, that he'd go down and retrieve the shovel. His twin had the better swimmer's lungs after all.

But then thirty seconds pass. Forty-five...a whole minute.

Bubbles come to the surface. The water rippling like somebody's thrashing. And then...nothing.

Of course, Steve runs up to the lake house to get his parents. To get help. But he was too late. He couldn't save his brother.

After this, he can't even look himself in the eyes. Can't look into a mirror. After this, his parents grow distant from him. They leave more and more frequently, leave him alone in his guilt. Affairs and arguments...it all happens too frequently now. Steve keeps to himself. He's quiet and weird. Barely has any friends. Won't talk about that summer evening. Won't consider going around a lake again.

But...but then he goes to high school. He tries out for the swim team, just to give himself something to do. It made his dad pay attention to him. It made his parents stay. It made a small part of him proud, when he did good at his meets, when he was eventually given the co-captain spot. He worked as a lifeguard over the summers.

Barb goes missing from his backyard. He isn't aware that she was dragged through the pool. Didn't see it, never knew.

Nancy lives with the same sort of guilt that Steve did. But Steve only knows one way of coping: moving on. Busying his brain with stupid things: drinking and partying and sports and other things that seem meaningless. He seems fine, doesn't he? It's not like he's weighed any of the shit he's been through.

(He is. He won't tell anybody this.)

Dustin asks for his help that one day, the same age as Steve's twin brother was—will forever be. And Steve knows, even if he accepts reluctantly at first, that this is his duty. It's what's going to prove that he can care, that he isn't fucked up over this thing that happened, that he can do better.

Helping where he can, that's what makes him proud. Being somebody to step in, to throw themselves at the danger rather than letting anybody else experience it.

And then Lover's Lake.

He hasn't been out on a lake, not even dipping his toes in the water since the incident. But when it comes down to it, to the group he's sitting on that rickety boat with, he knows he must. He must prove that he can help, that he can swim best, that he can use his skills for good; rather than sitting by, almost uselessly.

He's being dragged back under the surface, something wrapped around his ankle. He's panicking, of course he's panicking—there's questions and broken sentences flashing through his brain: did this happen to him? is this what he felt like? am I going to die like this, too?

For half a moment, he expects to die. He's ready to die. Like maybe dying will break him free from the guilt he's been carrying. Like a cycle will be reset.

He's relieved when he doesn't drown.

Yet, when that demobat releases his throat and he can get enough oxygen to focus on his surroundings, he sees all the others around him in the Upside Down. And he's furious. Furious that they had to go after him, to save his sorry ass. Because, again, he's put himself in a position of complete uselessness.

Always the one needing help, needing to be saved.

He'd rather do it alone. Rather be the bait, the hook line and sinker.

And when the fight is over, when Dustin loses Eddie...

Steve sees himself in Dustin's eyes. Helpless, scared, vengeful—

Guilty.

He considers his new duty to be to actually help Dustin's guilt. To try and make it better. But he's fucking it up, he constantly fucks it up. Just like he did with Nancy. He still can't look himself in the eyes.

Not without seeing his brother's face. Not without seeing scars where he failed to fully protect. Not without seeing Dustin's guilty, angry gaze. Not without seeing himself.

And somewhere along the lines, he knew his self-worth was low. But it's even lower. Like it was when he lost his brother; it shouldn't have been his brother. It shouldn't have been Eddie. It should've been him.

But he doesn't tell anybody this revelation he has. He continues on, life normal, trying to be helpful where he can. No matter how little, no matter how much he must sacrifice.

————

Another version here:

Dustin is guilty because Eddie got so injured, but Eddie's saved by Steve. Steve makes it his only mission in that moment to resuscitate Eddie—he learned CPR after his brother died just in case, he's thankful for his anxious self-nagging.

But Dustin is still guilty and Steve still sees himself.

And Eddie's trying to reassure both of them, but nothing seems to get through. He's the only one who can really see through Steve's cracks, he ends up not liking what he's seeing. Under the surface, Steve is just hollow. Not hollow like he's dumb or boring or unimportant. Hollow like there's nothing keeping him tethered, nothing fulfilling him, nothing to keep him satiated and happy.

Under the surface, Eddie sees a version of a man he doesn't really know. He sees Steve constantly fighting a mental battle, some sort of self-worth argument, some prattle with his own thoughts. He sees a man barely living; he sees a man willing to die for anything.

Again, he ends up not liking what he's seeing.

AU where Eddie is supplementing his music aspirations with a job at the grocery store and he’s crushing hard on a customer that comes through his line with increasingly weird grocery combos.

Gareth thinks he’s doing it on purpose as some kind of joke. Jeff thinks that Eddie should just ask the guy out. Grant, Eddie’s usual bagger, disagrees, “Uh, last week, Hot Guy bought thirteen pounds of raw meet and rope. We sure he’s not a serial killer?”

This sets up an argument crowded around Eddie’s register that’s usually reserved for the break room. His friends weigh the pros and cons of dating a crazy person while Eddie watches Hot Guy realize that his line is busy and walk to another register.

He’s has nothing but a pack of nails, hairspray, and a tomato in his basket.

Eddie mourns his bi-weekly interaction.

While Eddie is living it up in a workplace romcom, Steve is fighting for his life with a group of pre-teens determined to get themselves killed saving the world.

Steve will drop lore on Eddie in this ‘everybody knows this, catch up’ kinda way when it painfully clear that everybody absolutely did not know this.

Like, Eddie asks Steve to move his chair so he can slide passed him like three time in the middle of a party at the Byers and is being ignored. Finally, he’s like, “Ground control to Major Asshole. Can you hear me?”

Steve’s only notices him because he kicks his chair in the process and is like, “Oh, sorry, man. Gotta talk on my other side. I lost my hearing on this side.”

Which, great.

Eddie feels like an asshole but he can actually put that to the side because the whole table is just like, “…what? Since when?”

“Um…” Steve says, like. Yeah. This is common knowledge. “Two years ago?”

One time in the middle of the summer, Eddie is ogling the freckles across Steve’s shoulders at a pool party when Steve yawns. Eddie jokingly asks if teaching Robin to drive tired him out that much and Steve’s like, “Nah, I had a seizure this morning. Those tire me out for days. It’s so annoying.”

“Woah,” because Eddie didn’t even know that was something on their radar. Neither did Nancy judging by the whole plate of hotdogs she just dropped on the ground.

Steve causally mentioned that he didn’t have his appendix anymore a couple weeks after they closed the gate officially. Eddie asked when he had the surgery expecting an answer to be when he was a kid, but Steve gives him a weird look like, “Uh, couple weeks ago.”

“A couple - what?” Jonathan sputtered from across the room. “A couple weeks ago, we killed Vecna.”

“Yeahh???” Steve rolled his eyes. “And then I had my appendix taken out. That’s what happens when you’re stabbed.”

“You were stabbed?!?”

“C’mon, man. You were there. Keep up.”

Eddie is shut up mid-sentence by lips against his and, wow. Whoa. Steve Harrington kissing him right now and Eddie should definitely kiss back but, “You like guys? I’ve had a chance this whole time?”

“I’m literally bisexual.”

Look, Eddie’s not in love with the fact that one of his new little sheep is Steve Harrington’s number one fan, but he’s got to give Dustin credit.

“Let me get this straight,” Eddie says at their nearly silent lunch table. “You want Steve Harrington - King of Conformity - to come to Hellfire.”

“Just until he gets the heaters in in his car fixed,” Dustin replies. He doesn’t even do Eddie the decency to look intimidated. “Otherwise, I got to leave exactly at six. It’s too cold for him to sit out in his car for hours and he’s my ride.”

Eddie has the flicker of an idea run through his mind and does the opposite of what he should. He says, “Fine.”

There’s a knock on the door a little after five and then there he is. The king gracing them with his presence, flashing a peace sign to them and taking a seat in the corner. And yeah. That won’t do.

Eddie reaches over and grabs the chair, pulling Steve closer to him and announces, “Meet the hostage, boys.”

Eddie rambles over Steve’s protest, laying the groundwork to build an hero’s journey upon. He describes the captive, where they’re at, what they’re doing which is - “Nothing, because our pretty, pretty princess is tied to a chair and-“

He snaps the ring of a handcuff around Steve’s wrist and then the other cuff to one of the rungs in his chair. He smiles at Steve, “-and can do nothing about it.”

And then Steve promptly has a panic attack.

Eddie has never sold to Steve Harrington.

He has never nor will he ever sell to Steve Harrington. Sure, he sold to Steve friends who probably give him the drugs but that’s rich boy money.

And sure, Steve has never actually tried to buy from him but it’s the principle of the matter. Which is what makes this so interesting because, “Harrington?”

“Hey.”

Steve has been MIA from school for the past week and Billy has been telling everybody that he beat him to death, and well. It certainly looks like he gave it a good effort. So really.

What’s Eddie supposed to do here? Uphold his morals?

“Can I…help you?” Eddie asks, opening the screen door for him.

Steve hobbled insides and immediately asks, “You sell stuff, right? Whatever anybody wants, you got it?”

“That’s what they say. Got something in mind?”

“Sleep.”

“What?”

“I need - I just need sleep,” Steve says, words fast and a little desperate. “I can’t sleep at my house, man. I can’t. It’s - god, it’s been four days and my head is killing me. I - I feel like I’m going to die. I need sleep.”

Eddie just stares at him, blinking slowly because it doesn’t actually sound like Steve is asking for drugs. It sounds like he’s scared to have his guard down at home so, “Yeah, okay. Um, take the couch.”

Steve is asleep almost as soon as he sits down and when he wakes up a couple hours later, he gives Eddie ten bucks and leaves.

Eddie kinda thinks it’s going to be a one-off situation but a couple weeks later, Steve is back. He only ever sleeps for a couple hours, pays Eddie, and goes.

The only changes are that he eventually graduates from sleeping on the couch to in Eddie’s bed (so Eddie doesn’t have to explain Steve to Wayne again) and Eddie shows Steve where the spar key so he can come in when Eddie is at band practice.

Dont get Eddie wrong, this situation is weird but there are worse ways to make money.

It is what it is until it isn’t. Until it’s… “What the fuck is this?”

Eddie knew Steve was here because he religiously leaves his shoes neatly by the front door but - “A girl? He brought a girl.”

Because, yeah. That’s a blonde sailor girl next to Steve in his bed. They’re both open mouth drooling on his pillows, smell like fire, and look like hell. The only reason he doesn’t kick them out because he knows Starcourt caught on fire last night.

He does pull the blanket off them and goes to sleep in the living room.

He wakes an hour later to the feeling of someone watching him and when he opens his eyes, he’s met with - “Robin Buckley, nice to meet you, Eddie Munson.”

This feels like a trap.

“Uh, yeah. Same.”

She gives him a smile like she has secrets and then holds up a stack of Polaroids, “Does Steve know you take pictures of him while he’s sleeping?”

After checks calendar 84 years, I am once again offering Smart Steve content lmao

Listen the writer's block has been hitting recently if you couldn't tell, but I'm still happy with how this came out.

As always, if you see any typos, no you didn't :P

----

So.

Steve Harrington is smart.

Like, smart smart.

Like, the kind of smart where he not only understands shit, he can explain complicated shit to Eddie without sending his brain into a coma.

It's been two weeks, and Eddie is still trying to come to terms with this discovery. He's four tutoring sessions in and a little spark of surprise still rocks him whenever Steve can easily explain a new topic using the stuff Eddie likes.

He explained velocity using D&D spells. He explained electrical circuits using the concept of plugging a guitar into an amp. After asking a few questions about Lord of the Rings, Steve Harrington managed to explain the in-depth concepts of magnetism using the fucking One Ring.

How the fuck is Eddie supposed to be normal about any of that? Ignoring the sheer fact that Steve is capable of it, how is Eddie supposed to feel about the...the willingness to learn what Eddie understands best and meet him on that level?

If the answer is awed and practically starstruck, he's ahead of the game.

"Hey, you doing okay? Kinda spacing out over there, man."

Eddie blinks, the textbook in front of him coming back into focus. Steve had been explaining the concept of momentum, but his words just floated in one ear and out the other because Eddie was once again consumed by the absurdity of the situation.

It's not like he can say that, though. So, instead, he settles for a grimace and pushes the textbook away. "I think I'm all fried out for physics," he says, looking up at Steve.

"Oh," Steve says, blinking a few times before nodding. "Yeah, sure, uh, sorry."

"Wait, what are you sorry about?"

Steve looks away, an awkward frown tugging at his lips. "I...probably wasn't explaining it too well, huh?"

"Woah, woah, no way," Eddie says, putting a stop to that train of thought before it can leave the station. He turns in his chair to face Steve directly, ignoring how the metal rod that attaches it to the desk digs painfully against his shin. "Listen, Stevie, I've never understood physics more than when you explain it. Like, I don't know, man, whatever you're doing works."

Steve must have been more worried than he let on, because Eddie can literally see the tension draining from his shoulders. "Great," he says, rubbing the back of his neck as he glances away. "Seriously, that's great. I'm glad nothing's been confusing."

"Yeah, so, nothing you did," Eddie says, feeling like he needs to reiterate that point to drive it home. "Honestly, you could probably even make me understand geometry. Not like our teacher is doing shit to help."

"Do you...not understand geometry?" Steve asks, looking a little unsure like he can't tell if that's a joke or Eddie's attempt at suggesting another class he needs help in. This one is a class they share, which means Steve will have seen Eddie's floundering attempts at answering questions, and he feels a whole new burn of embarrassment course through him.

"Do you?" Eddie asks in return.

"Yeah. It's just, like, angles and shit, man."

Eddie stares at him for a moment, eyes narrowing and trying to figure out if Steve is somehow, subtly, making fun of him. But of course he isn't. If Eddie has learned nothing else, it's that Steve doesn't ever think Eddie is actually stupid or deserving of ridicule. He just thinks Eddie hasn't been taught properly, which is more on the teacher than him.

After a moment, Eddie twists around to dig in his bag. He pulls out his geometry homework, slaps it on the desk, and gestures at the triangles and squares and other shapes with unidentified angles and side lengths. "I have literally no clue what the fuck is going on here," he says.

Steve moves closer, looking over the sheet with a slight frown. Eddie knows this face by now. It's the one Steve makes when he's searching for the relevant knowledge in his own brain, pulling it to the front so he can easily identify the gaps in Eddie's understanding. "So, how would you start?" Steve finally asks, offering his pencil.

Eddie takes it, twirls it between his fingers a few times, and looks over the questions. He eventually chooses one asking him to find the length of a side. "I know this one. It's the equation with the squares and shit," he says, carefully writing it out and plugging in numbers under the triangle.

"Right. Pythagorean theorem. A squared plus B squared equals C squared."

"Yeah. That," Eddie says, working through the math on a separate sheet of paper instead of in his head. He can do easy addition and subtraction, but one of the first things Steve did was get him used to using scratch paper. His brain doesn't feel quite as crowded by numbers anymore; now it's just crowded by the endless rotation of bites of knowledge and equations that have nothing to do with the work at hand. It's like his brain can recognize that it needs to remember something, but can't identify what exactly, so it just offers up everything.

When he's done, Eddie shows Steve his work, the answer circled at the bottom of the scratch paper. "Perfect," Steve says, flashing a smile that makes Eddie's heart lurch dangerously. "Okay, so that's solid. What about this one."

He points at a right triangle with only one angle listed and the other marked as unknown. "No fucking clue," Eddie says.

"This one is asking for the unknown angle. It'll just be some subtraction."

"It's only giving me one angle, Stevie," Eddie points out, gesturing to the angle marked as 53. "What the fuck do I do with that?"

"Well, the main thing is that a triangles angles will always add to 180. Also, this is a right triangle," Steve explains, taking the pencil from Eddie to circle the L-shaped corner of the triangle. "This angle will always be 90 degrees on right triangles. Should I keep going?"

"No," Eddie says slowly, drawing the word out as he takes the pencil back. "I'm starting to get it. Lemme try."

Steve waits patiently as Eddie hesitates before adding the angles together and subtracting that from 180. When he gets to a solution of 37, he gestures for Steve to check.

"That's right," Steve says, nodding as he points to another triangle on the sheet. "For this one, I'll teach you about the SOH CAH TOA trick."

Eddie nods, paying as much attention as he can, but he can't help feeling a little distracted by Steve's happy smile and relaxed posture. He's never seen Steve like this during class, and he's struck by the sudden notion that nobody else will see Steve like this, either.

------

When Steve gets home, he drops his bag in the hallway, grabs a soda from the kitchen, and collapses onto the couch.

A few National Geographic and Scientific American magazines are still spread out across the coffee table. A brief glance reminds Steve that none of the stories were particularly interesting in these editions.

He pops the tab on his soda, takes a sip, and glances at the phone on the end table next to him.

Steve had noticed something today. Eddie's shirt. Most of the band shirts Eddie wears are popular enough that Steve sort of knows them. Metallica, KISS, and AC/DC were recognizable since he's passed their albums on display in record stores.

Today's band, though. He didn't recognize that one. What the fuck was Manowar?

After a few seconds of thought, Steve reaches out and grabs the phone. He's just doing research. Wanting to understand the music Eddie likes is reasonable. That's how Eddie learns. There's no other reason for Steve dialing the number of an old classmate.

The phone rings a few times before picking up. "Amare residence," a girl says, sounding distracted.

"Hey, Dee. It's Steve."

"Hmm, Steve. Steve. ...Steeeeve. Oh, is this Steve Harrington, deserter of friends for the woes of public education?"

Despite everything, Steve can't help an amused smile. "Yeah, that Steve," he says. He doesn't apologize, since he knows that's not what she wants. If she was actually angry, she would've hung up.

"Well, how kind of you to grace me with your voice," Dee says, sounding distant like she's set the phone down. "I suppose I can give you until I finish braiding my hair."

"Great. You know about metal, right?"

"Like iron? Duh, Steve, I'm not thirteen."

"No, like, heavy metal."

"Iron is pretty heavy."

"Music, Dee. Heavy metal music."

"Oh! Aren't you a Tears for Fears kind of boy? What are you doing asking about heavy metal?"

Steve starts to answer but stops himself. He doesn't know why. Dee tutors kids all the time. Everyone in their private school group did. That's how they made money. She'd understand that he's trying to learn more about Eddie's interests for tutoring purposes.

So why can't he just say that?

"This long pause says you're thinking about lying to me," Dee says. "Don't bother, Steve."

"Well, I do want to know for the guy I'm tutoring. But not just because I'm tutoring him."

"Awww, are you trying to make a friend?" Dee teases.

Steve grimaces, wondering why his stomach twists slightly at the question. "Yeah, kind of. I want to know more about the stuff he likes. And he likes heavy metal. So, ya know, I thought of you."

"Well, you've come to the right place," Dee says. "And I love talking music, so I guess we can keep talking even after I'm done braiding."

A relieved smile tugs at Steve's lips. "Thanks, Dee, I appreciate it. So, first question, what's Manowar?"

-------

Tag List!

@estrellami-1, @ravenfrog,

Musical prodigy Steve, who is way too casual about this gift. He plays seven instruments and could read sheet music before he could spell his own name, and literally never mentions it.

He has perfect pitch and can perfectly replicate a song he’s heard once on the radio. If you gave him an instrument he’s never played before and an hour, he’d made something beautiful out of it. And no one knows.

Well, some people know.

His mom still signs him up for recitals and performances out of state, but Steve never talks about it. He just says he has something to do with him mom that weekend, and then goes to preform in a concert hall in front of hundreds of people.

Honestly, Steve kinda assumed everybody was like that.

His parents never made it seem like it was a big deal. Hell, he doesn’t even consider that he could go to college for music (not that his dad would ever allow it). It’s basically a hobby.

It’s only after concussion number two when he’s sitting in English class listening to Eddie Munson complaining for a week straight about how he has an ‘epic vision’ for a ‘new song’ but it’ll never come to fruition because he’d need a full string orchestra.

And then another week listening to him hum the melody of the song.

And then a couple more days with the studio equipment that his parents got him for Christmas that Steve starts to think that maybe this ability isn’t all that common.

Eddie - still complaining - just stares at him with shock and confusion when Steve sits a cassette down in front of him and tells him to, “Stop talking.”

Honestly, that should be it, right? Steve has spent more effort making mix tapes than that cassette and those were barely a blip in the week so…

So, why is Eddie Munson confronting him at his locker the next morning? Eddie’s hands are all over the place like, “Did you really find and pay an entire orchestra to play my music just so I’d be quiet?”

“No,” Steve says slowly because that’s insane. “I played your music so you’d be quiet… it clearly didn’t work.”

“You can play…”

“Yeah?”

Eddie just stares at him like he’s something worth staring at and then asks seriously, “Do you want to be in my band?”

Steve quite literally has no idea what a normal friendship looks like because for the vast majority of his life, his best friends were:

(1) Girl, painfully in love with him. Once spent an entire summer removing his mom’s lipsticks from their casings and replacing it with cheap shit from the gas station. All because his mom called him annoying.

And

(2) Boy, violently in love with him. Once staged a coup against his own parents so Steve didn’t have to go home that included weapons. He hit his dad with a rock.

So people will say that his friendship with Robin is codependent and weird, and he’s just doesn’t see it. Like, “This is completely normal. I’m sorry you’ve never had real friends before, man.”

name a more fix-it-fic shippable character than steve harrington i’ll wait

Steve Harrington, who has a very “in name only” relationship with his parents, the people who claim they love him lots but have simply given him cash for his last six birthdays without bothering to send a card. 

Steven Harrington, who lost his connection to the only adults in his life who actually parented him when he had his final fight with Tommy and Carol-- not that they ever really did that much. Having an adult put a bandaid on his knee and complimenting him for being tough was plenty enough. 

Steve Harrington, who drove Dustin and co. to the Byers house that one Christmas and was told by Hopper not to come in; that Joyce was still mad at him about the ‘demodog in the fridge’ and figured his exclusion was fair--it wasn’t like Hopper actually liked him. Joyce certainly had no reason to. It wasn’t like he was doing anything for Christmas anyways. 

Steve Harrington, who is fairly certain Robin’s parents have clocked her as queer but who still treats him in that careful way many parents do when he’s hanging around their daughter. There’s a barrier there, in the way of firm handshakes and “get her back safe”’s that keep things formal. (It’s never bothered him before, and he swears it doesn’t bother him now.) 

Steve Harrington, whose relationships with adults are defined by words like “networking”, “proper connections”, “favors”, and “finances”, who has at best been treated like a miniature version of his father and at worst as a spoilt moron, who encounters Wayne Munson and has no idea what to do with the man. 

Wayne Munson, who asks him actual questions about his life. Who asks him to watch the game with him. Who calls him “boy” and “son” in ways that sound affectionate and not frustrated. Wayne, who shoos him away from the dishes and compliments his cooking, who has invited Steve over when Eddie isn’t even home.

Steve Harrington, who keeps apologizing to Eddie because “I’m not trying to steal your Uncle man, I promise.” and doesn’t believe Eddie when the latter just laughs at him.

(“You can’t steal Wayne, Steve.” Eddie says with a snicker, when he finally figures out what Steve is apologizing for.  The guy apologizes a lot for things that make no sense, it’s a bad habit Eddie’s working on him with. “Though I do believe he has been trying to steal you.” 

“Oh.” This does not relieve Steve. In fact, this seems to make him more nervous looking, which Eddie does not want. 

“I uh. I don’t want to come between you guys so I guess we can just hang at my house…?” The voice he trails off with is downright painful for Eddie to hear, and he’s already slashing his hand in the air in a wild ‘No’ before Steve can even finish speaking.

“Dude you’re fine. I’m glad you guys are getting along! Wayne needs someone to talk sportsball with and clearly so do you because you keep trying to talk about it to anyone who will listen.”

“I guess if you’re alright with it…”) 

Steve Harrington, who allows himself to be adopted by the Munsons much in the way a feral cat lets itself become domesticated, and who starts looking at Wayne like the man hung the moon. 

Wayne Munson, who is referred to by Steve as “Dad” exactly once, and feels so fucking happy about it he misses the panic attack Eddie has to talk Steve through. 

He also misses that that is the moment when Steve accidentally confesses his feelings to Eddie in the Munson’s (new) cramped bathroom, on grounds that “I can’t date you and also call Wayne dad like that, that’s weird! Isn’t that weird!? It feels weird!” 

(“Sweetheart,” Eddie says, trying not to smile and failing entirely. “I get what you’re saying, but I think in your panic you missed something kinda key, there.”) 

Steve Harrington, who gets himself an entire family in the end (and gets to both call Wayne “dad” and Eddie as his boyfriend, without issue, because “we’re not related babe, you can call your inlaw whatever you want.” 

“Now who's skipping steps? When did we get married?”

“The very second it’s legal, that’s when.”) 

--and has never been happier in his life.

I– just have this little escene of Hero Steve that i wrote.

—

He must have seen it coming, honestly, with all the crazy things that had happened in his life, what's one more. At least he had been alone at the time.

Steve lets out a chuckle while remembering what he had done for the last six years, where he had been. The weight of the glass in his hand feels lighter than normal. A lot of things feel lighter– weaker– than normal. He drinks the last shot and lands the glass with a light thud on the counter.

The bartender has been eyeing Steve for a while, he knows why, there’s a photo with his face on full display with bold barely red letters spelling ‘MISSING’ just down the counter (all wrinkled paper and pale colours). He’s changed, all rough edges, muscle and a bunch of scars that even the best healing spell couldn't make them disappear. But. He still has those droopy eyes, square jaw and moles scattered all around his skin. He is still Steve Harrington.

clink, clink

The bell over the door sounds, someone comes in, not the person of his rag tag group he expected but the one he’s glad will be the first. He doesn’t even turn around, his lips curl up and god, it's been years since he has seen anyone from The Party, his original party. He missed them like burning fire in his veins, his will to live and determination to come back home.

Home. He is back home.

He hears Hopper come closer as he finally turns around with a bright but calm smile.

“Harrington?”

“The one and only.”

——

Hopper was having a boring day, it was not bad, boring means nothing new, boring means nothing dangerous, boring means safety. So when a call from the bartender of the ‘Hideaway’ comes, talking about being able to identify a person that just came in as the same as the one a very old missing flyer he had, he knew something was about to happen.

And something did happen. Because the face looking at him is the one of Steve Harrington, the same face that haunts him in his nightmares like another face of one of his children that he couldn't protect.

He wasn't expecting anything, maybe a false alarm, but when the man sitting in the bar stools turned around to face him, a cocky smile plastered on his lips and a prideful voice responding “The one and only” when Hopper blurted out his last name? Yeah, there’s no denying the fact that the teenager he lost six years ago has come back.

The confidence that once was borderline egocentric everytime he went to stop one of Harrington’s parties and has become less while being around the kids has now settled down in Steve's skin in a way that exude trust in himself, acknowledge of one's worth and– excuse the redundancy– confidence.

The person in front of Hopper is no longer a teenager but a man, a man who has more scars than the Upside Down left him before disappearing, with longer hair and muscles that his clothes can't hide, a firm posture like a soldier ready to attack even in his leisure time and with what looks like a sword hanging at the side of his waist.

“Harrington… Steve, where have you been, kid?” He asks instead of all the parts of his brain screaming alarm bells that this is probably a trap, that Vecna has come back and now he's the next victim. He pushes all those thoughts down because that's his son! Dammit.

No matter how much that teenager has changed, he knows his kid and that person is his. God dammit. He’ll fight anyone who says otherwise.

The man– Steve– gives him a side looped smile and signals the bartender that he's done. “You’ll not believe me if I tell you”, he huffs.

“Really, kid?” Hopper arches an eyebrow.

“Really, the UD will sound like a joke compared with all the shit that happened."

Hopper notes how Steve doesn't call him out with the nickname, kid. Steve doesn't feel like the man he looks, at least to Hopper. He must be 24 by now, still too young compared to and old man like Jim.

Hopper doesn't comment on it either.

“But here is no place to talk about it, shall we go?” Steve stands up and stretches his back, the bartender gives him the bill with an odd look between the two men.

Steve looks back at Hopper with the most eat shitting grin he can do.

If Hopper didn't think he was Steve before, he definitely thinks that now.

With a huff and mild shake of his head, he puts down a few dollars, checking that they're enough before thanking the bartender and guiding Steve to his car.

“I might be rich back in Eloise but I don't think they would have accepted a bunch of golden coins as a good way to pay in here,” Steve enters the car happier than normal and with an expression of pure delight.

“What the hell is Eloise and why would you pay with golden coins?”

“A kingdom from another world," Steve says like it's common sense, the little shit, he really hasn't changed that much.

"I just came back from a six-year-long real life DnD campaign, Hop, give me some slack.” Never mind. That sounds like it would change a person.

“What the fuck, kid.”

“Language.”

Hopper looks back at Steve in total bewilderment while he just laughs. Jim is too old for this shit. He starts the car and drives away.

Steve and Eddie, who are both in a city for some music awards the next day, who both decide to go out for a couple of drinks the night before, who entirely thanks to destiny sit next to each other at the bar, who hit it off quickly and start talking and go on and on and on and on...

Steve knows that he recognizes Eddie from somewhere, but he is not entirely sure where from until a guy approaches them asking for a picture with him, that Steve takes very amused, and he realises he's the metal guy Dustin had asked him to take a picture with if he saw him at the awards.

Eddie, on the other hand, doesn't recognise Steve at all, even though he is objectively way more famous than him. It's just that Steve always wears a wig and sunglasses, a moustache that is sometimes fake. It's not like his identity is a secret, he does some interviews without the costume. It's what robin has called his 'drag persona' and not his hannah montana. Gives him some peace in the way that only dedicated fans recognise him when he's out.

The night is coming to an end and Eddie gets a brilliant idea to see Steve again. He asks him to be his date to the award show, like a full date, stand at his side at the red carpet and pose with him and everything, he thinks it will be fun and a very amused Steve agrees.

Eddie is very confused and surprised when the photographers ask to take pictures of his date alone at the red carpet, when some interviewers call out to him and he goes to them easily, but he is too caught up on his own interviews with his band to really pay attention to whatever shenanigans his very hot "anonymous" date has decided to pull.

Eddie is absolutely shocked when his hot "anonymous" date wins artist of the year and kisses him before going on the stage.

more twitter thoughts with @pukner and @sangrientojoe

AU where after a fight with his dad, Steve’s entire life implodes when he’s told that Hopper is his real father.

This just wrecks Steve. He knows that his dad is disappointed in him and that he has to work harder to make him proud, but to find out that it was impossible? That the reason it felt like his dad hated him was because he did? And - and Hopper hates him too?

It never occurs to Steve that maybe Hopper didn’t know. All he can think about is how easy it was for Hopper to adopt El, so it’s not that he didn’t want kids. He just didn’t want Steve in his life.

He doesn’t tell anyone about it for a long time - not even Robin - and then one day blurts it out. To Callahan.

Callahan says, “You know, Hopper is like a father-figure to me so-“

“Hopper is my father.”

And then Steve just breaks down in tears and Callahan thinks to himself that there was probably a better way to start off telling this kid to stop trespassing.

Jealousy Looks Different On You

[Part One] ✨ [You Are Here] ✨ [Part Three]

Steve can be a jealous man. He can be.

Just not in the same way that Eddie seems to thrive on it. Steve doesn't have a right to jealousy outside a relationship, so even if he feels jealous, he'll never act on it.

He thought it was just one of the many ways Eddie and he were incompatible romantically.

It was the same song and dance when they'd go out. Eddie would drag someone onto the dance floor and spend most of the dance making eyes at Steve until his catch of the night got jealous enough to pull Eddie out of eyesight.

Steve is used to that. That's the routine.

Except.

Well, except Eddie's broken the routine now, hasn't he?

Flipped the entire script by saying the things Steve has wanted to hear for years. I wouldn’t have rejected you and Jesus, Steve, you’re the only one I’ve really wanted.

Steve knows Eddie well enough to know that Eddie believes he's telling the truth or believes he really does want what he's saying to be the truth.

And now, sitting in silence in the back of a taxi that Eddie's gotten them, Steve can't bring himself to hope about it. Eddie's not a liar, as far as Steve knows, but that doesn't mean he actually wants Steve. Not for real. Not in the long run.

Steve can't give Eddie all the things Eddie seems to enjoy most. He's heard enough about Eddie's sex life to know they aren't super compatible in that department. And as far as he knows, Eddie's never even had a relationship. Just one-night stands and friends with benefits situations, which, y'know, Steve's not judging him about because Steve had all that once, too.

And maybe it's shitty of him to think but because Eddie's never been in a long-term monogamous relationship, Steve's not sure that one between them will work.

Okay. It's a lot shitty for him to think.

There's no real basis for Steve to think this other than that everything Steve wants out of a relationship, Eddie's shown him he wants the exact opposite.

Maybe Steve's just thinking shitty thoughts because it's easier than hoping that this might work.

The ride to the apartment is awkward only for Steve. They can't exactly talk about liking each other romantically in the back of a taxi where a stranger can clearly hear them, so they don't. Instead, Eddie chats up the cabbie about everything and anything that comes to his mind and Steve sits with just his thoughts.

Which are not being kind.

God, he's kind of a shitty person, isn't he?

Steve lets them both into the apartment and it feels different now. It's not like Eddie's never been in Steve's apartment. Hell, he's been sleeping in his old room for this whole 'break from the LA stress' he's taken. Has been here three days already, so this isn't even the first time this week that Steve's let them both into the apartment.

It's just different now that Eddie knows. Steve's been living his life with the assumption that Eddie knew but now he knows and everything is different.

"You, uh, want a beer?" Steve asks as he toes off his shoes, stalling because he doesn't know how to start this conversation. Isn't even sure he wants to because having this conversation means there is no going back. He won't be able to unsay these things, Eddie won't be able to unhear them. It'll be out there. All his hurt and love and fear and hope.

"Steve," is all Eddie says, in a tone that says 'we need to talk'.

So, Steve swallows thickly, nods, and heads for the living room. It's so stupid but he suddenly feels exposed, so he picks up a throw pillow from the couch before he plops onto it. He turns completely sideways, back to the armrest of the couch and legs crossed, pillow in his lap to act as a barrier of some sort. Something to feel less exposed.

Eddie takes longer to join him because, unlike Steve, he'd gotten completely done up for the bar and that includes full lace up combat boots that he can't easily slip out of.

Eddie finally joins him in the living room, pausing when he sees Steve before he moves to sit on the couch, one leg folded under him and the other on the floor. He leaves a respectable foot of distance between them and Steve's not sure if he's disappointed by that or not.

There is a tense silence that falls on them, neither brave enough to really begin the conversation that could be the end of everything.

"Steve, I- I don't even know where to start, man," Eddie finally says, running a hand through his hair.

"Me either," Steve says, looking down and picking at the pillow. "You were the one who said we needed to talk."

"Because we do?" Eddie sounds confused. "I, fuck man, I basically accused you of being in love with me and you confirmed it. We gotta talk about that."

Steve frowns because he doesn't agree. They don't have to talk about it. As far as Steve was concerned, they've been successfully not talking about it for years. Nothing has really changed from Steve's perspective. "What's there to talk about?"

"That you love me! And that I was, am, in love with you, too! That feels like a big deal!" Eddie cries, voice not loud enough to bother the neighbors yet but he can easily get that way. "You- why don't you seem as happy about this as I am?"

"Because I'm not," Steve says, stern and biting as he finally looks up from the pillow. "How am I supposed to be happy about this? This is going to change everything between us. Everything! And I've been- I've made peace with how this wasn't- with how things were between us."

Eddie stares back at him, eyes wide and mouth agape in his shock. It takes him a moment to recover. "I don't... understand. Why, why aren't you happy? Of course this will change things between us, but you make it sound like it'll be for the worse? I thought-"

"What? You thought you'd tell me you love me too and I'd jump into your arms?"

"Well, kinda," Eddie starts, but Steve doesn't want to hear it.

"I can't! Eddie, I can't. I'm not- I-I get that you, that you've just realized I loved you, but I've been living with the assumption that you already knew. I thought you knew for years. And now you're sitting here, telling me that you've felt the same. What, this whole time?"

"Yes! For longer, probably!" Eddie argues back, anger and hurt mixing on his face. "I've never known you to not go after the person you want, so why did you say anything sooner?"

"Why didn't you!?" Steve shouts, feeling the heat of tears in his eyes. He throws the pillow at Eddie and jumps from the couch to pace the living room. "We lived together for years! And I watched as you brought home guy after guy after guy. I listened as you waxed poetry about the perfect man for you; a fellow metalhead who would want to go to concerts with you, someone who'd play DnD with you and enjoyed your other nerd things, and-and-and," Steve stutters over the word, fighting back making a sobbing sound because it's one thing to let Eddie see his tears; it's an entirely different thing to let him hear the whole sob-fest Steve's fight back. "And a laundry list of all the kinks they have to b-be into so you don't get bored. I- God, you'd laid out your incredibly long list of standards that I didn't fit before I'd even realized I liked men. That I liked you! Why would I even try when I already knew I'd never measure up?"

He's pacing still. Movement helps him push the urge to cry down and makes the tears dry up. It takes him a while to realize that there's been no answer from Eddie. So, Steve finally gets his emotions under control and turns to look at the couch, to see Eddie's response.

He's not expecting to see tears falling down Eddie's own cheeks and wearing a face of heartbreak and regret.

"You just can't handle the fact that these people aren't falling all over themselves to get your attention for once in your life!" Eddie growls, arms thrown in the air in exasperation.

"I don't care about getting their attention, Eddie!" Steve says once again because it feels like they've been arguing in circles forever when it's really only been about half an hour. Steve wishes he could say that he didn't understand how they got here but he does.

Eddie and his new friends. Friends that don't like Steve and go out of their way to make sure he knows that. Friends that throw snide remarks that Eddie chuckles along with. Friends that make Steve feel unwanted in his own home.

It's infuriating and frustrating and hurtful that Eddie just lets them talk about Steve like that, lets them talk to Steve like that.

"Right, so you've said," Eddie scoffs and rolls his eyes, like Steve's the one being immature.

"Well, since you think I'm fucking lying or something, what do you think this is about?" Steve's says, hands on his hips as he stares down Eddie at the other end of the tiny galley kitchen of their apartment.

Eddie works his jaw, the way Steve's seen him do when he's holding back a comment he thinks is particularly scathing. It's been a while since Steve's been on the receiving end of this.

"Just say it, Eddie! We're never going to end this argument unless you do," Steve goads. If Eddie will just say the thing, they can talk it out. They can work through this. Steve can fix it, but only if Eddie tells him the truth.

"Maybe it's just fucking karma, Steve!" Eddie yells. "Maybe you just can't handle that I have friends who think you're not cool and they aren't going to pretend you are!"

Steve's jaw drops, the infuriating-frustrating-hurt feeling intensifying into what feels like a lead ball in Steve's gut. Karma. Karma? "Karma? Like because I was a self-centered asshole in school that I, what, deserve to be treated like trash by your so-called 'friends'!?" Steve goes as far as to make air quotes around the word friends.

"Yeah, maybe," Eddie says, quick and even like he... like he really believes that.

Like he really believes that this treatment is what Steve deserves.

"This situation is not the same," Steve shouts back.

"Seems the same to me. The group majority against the minority. It's not like you ever stood up for anyone when Hagan was trying to give everyone swirlies, or when Perkins would knock shit out of people's hands and fake laugh an apology. You just can't handle it now that you're the minority."

"That's not the fucking same! I didn't know you in high school!"

"Well, they don't know you, either!"

All the fight drains from Steve at those words. It's like Eddie has flipped the switch in his brain to see what is happening. To see it from Eddie's point of view. Or, if Steve is being kind, the point of view of Eddie's friends who don't know Steve because they refused to get to know him.

"So, what, they're allowed to treat me the way you think I treated you?" Steve asks, voice quiet and matter of fact.

"Yes," Eddie says and then his face pinches as he actually processes what Steve said. "Wait. No. That's not- It's not exactly like that. It's just, like- the guys were saying it was status quo or something."

The guys. Eddie's 'friends'.

It's strange how 'the guys' went from meaning Jeff, Gareth, and Grant to this new group of friends and Jeff, Gareth, and Grant have become The Band. A separate, new category, othering even them from Eddie's new friends.

"I- Are you even hearing yourself right now?" Steve says in disbelief. He can see Eddie getting worked up again, so he barrels on. "I'm not just some jock you don't know. I'm your boyfriend. Your fucking boyfriend, Eddie! If you were my boyfriend in high school, I wouldn't have ever let my friends speak to you the way you let them talk to me!

"And I can't even defend myself because then everything they're saying is fucking true! That I'm a bullshit dumb jock just waiting for a chance to get violent. And I'm not! I'm not a jock anymore. And I'm not dumb! And I'm not bullshit!" Steve's vision gets blurry, and he knows he's crying but he doesn't really register it. The hurt he's feeling is leaving his body and he's just feeling numb now. "Jesus Christ, Eddie, I would never let someone talk to you the way you let your friends talk to me, and about me! Because beyond it just being the goddamn decent thing to do is not let people speak about others like that, but I love you and I can't imagine ever allowing someone to treat you the way your friends treat me. Why do you like them more than you love me!?"

Eddie's face is doing something complicated, like it always does when Steve cries. Like Eddie wants to sooth him but isn't sure how.

And that's all it takes. Something in Steve crumbles but not in the way he wants it to. Steve was hoping that if they talked this out that they could be okay. They could figure out a way forward.

Because here is Eddie's face, showing how much he loves and cares for Steve and wants to help him, but all Steve realizes is that Eddie might love him, but not enough to tell his friends to treat Steve with some basic respect and kindness.

He can't be here anymore. He can't be in this kitchen and see his hurt reflected on Eddie's face. He can't be in this apartment that used to feel so cozy and comforting and now just feels like a prison. He doesn't know if he can even be in this relationship if Eddie doesn't love him the same way as he used it.

How did they get to this point? How did they get to a point where Eddie is just okay with people treating Steve this way? How did Steve let it go this long without addressing it sooner?

When did Eddie decide that the approval of his new friends was more important than his feelings for Steve?

"Steve, I-"

Steve doesn't stick around to hear whatever it is Eddie's going to say. He turns on heel, speed walking to the door where he pauses just long enough to grab his jacket from the coat rack before fleeing the apartment.

-

Inspired by @novacorpsrecruit's fic, It’s lonely at the top. Which has a happy ending, so you should read it.

It’s lonely at the top

Part 1 | part 2 | here / final part

Read on Ao3

wc 1,698 | Steddie | angst with a happy ending!

“You need to give him some space,” Robin said over the phone. Eddie frowned. It’s been three days. He missed Steve. He nearly leaped over the couch to answer the phone, assuming it was him. Robin was the next best, he guessed. “You really hurt him.”

“I know,” Eddie said. “And I’m sorry. I really am. Will you tell him I’m done with the parties? Done with Trick? He means more to me than being liked.”

“Yeah,” Robin huffed. “You sure showed him that.”

“I mean it,” Eddie said honestly. “I do. I’m done with it all.”

“I think you need to tell him that yourself,” Robin said.

“How can I?” Eddie asked. “You won’t let me talk to him.”

“He doesn’t want to talk to you,” Robin corrected. “You need to let him be ready to accept you.”

Eddie sighed, pressing his forehead against the cabinet where the phone hung. He wished there was a way to tell Steve how sorry he was. As much as Eddie wanted to take the Green line to Robin’s dorm and talk to Steve, he can’t cross that boundary. But he needed a way to pour out his emotions, to let Steve know that he’s loved. That Eddie’s sorry. “Can I — Can I send him a letter? That way when he’s ready, he knows I’m there for him?”

There was silence on the other line as Robin thought it over. “Yeah, okay,” she said. “Just address it to me. He’s not …”

“Supposed to be there,” Eddie nodded. “Yeah. I figured. Thank you, for being there for him.”

“Yeah. Look,” Robin huffed. “If he does let you back in again, and you fuck up again. It’s your balls, Munson.”

“Understood,” Eddie said. “I promise. Never again.”

Robin hung up with a click. Eddie sighed, running his hands over his face. He fucked up. Bad.

He guessed there was no time to start writing like the present.

💌💌💌💌

“Steve, someone at table 13 requested you personally,” Jenny, the hostess said. “He’s — uh — a little scary. So if you have issues, get Rod.”

“Thanks, Jenny,” Steve said, pulling his order book from his apron. He wasn’t sure who would request him at 3 pm. Most of his early birds on Saturdays stop by the diner for brunch and he barely saw a soul until 5.

When they first moved out to Chicago, Steve had no clue what he was going to do for work. He was attending Harold Washington College to get his associates in early education, and then potentially apply to UIC. Then one day, he got off a stop too early and saw the help wanted sign. It was easy for him to pick up, he made decent tips, and it worked with his schedule well. Plus, he was able to take home food at the end of his shift.

Robin’s been enjoying the pancakes lately.

Plus, Steve loved when it was slow and Eddie would —

He closed his eyes, letting the thought disappear. He missed Eddie. His heart ached any time he thought about him. But he was afraid that Eddie didn’t miss him in the same way.

He took a deep breath and plastered on a fake smile as he greeted his table.

“Hi, welcome in. I’m Steve. I’ll be taking care —“ Steve stopped as he looked at the patron. He felt his lips turn into a frown. “Trick?”

“Patrick’s fine,” Trick winked. “I mean, we’re in your court, aren’t we?”

“Yeah, sure,” Steve nodded. He pressed his lips together, feeling like he couldn’t stop staring at the black and blue circles under his eyes. “What happened to your — uh —“ he gestured to his own face. He winced. Trick didn’t like him in the first place. He wouldn’t give Steve the time of day. Why would he bother to tell him about an injury like that. “Sorry — shouldn’t have asked that. What can I get started for you?”

“Your boyfriend, actually,” Trick smirked. It was like ice water was dumped over Steve as the words washed over him. Trick’s smirk dropped. He leaned over the table. His voice dropped to a whisper. “Hey — hey, sorry. I didn’t mean — It’s cool. It’s — Eddie and you — are cool, I mean.”

Steve wasn’t sure if he felt any better or worse. All he could say was, “Oh.”

“Yeah, uh —“ Trick ran his fingers over his buzzed hair and exhaled. “Half of our friends are gay or lesbian or queer. It’s — that’s fine. Promise.”

“Oh,” Steve repeated. He sat on the other side of the booth, across from Trick. “Okay.”

“I just —“ Trick looked up to the ceiling before turning his attention back to Steve. “We shouldn’t have judged you. We saw you and immediate thought you were gonna be some straight jackass like we’ve dealt with our whole lives. We built this community of accepting outcasts, and outcasted you while doing so.”

Oh.

Steve wasn’t sure what to think.

When Eddie and him started to date, the Corroded Coffin boys treated him similarly. But Eddie called them out on that before it got bad.

Before it got like this.

“I guess what I wanted to say was sorry,” Trick said. “For pushing you out. And name calling.”

Steve furrowed his brow. “I don’t recall any name calling?”

“Yeah, you weren’t around for that,” Trick winced, gesturing to his nose. “Eddie made sure I knew that was wrong.”

“Eddie,” Steve breathed. “My Eddie?”

“Yep,” Trick said. “I hope he gave you a big apology for everything. So, tell me. What do you got that’s good to eat here?”

Steve took Trick’s order — one strawberry milkshake and an order of fruit loaded French toast — sent it to the kitchen, then went into the bathroom. He shut the door behind him and pulled out Eddie’s letter from his apron pocket. The first letter arrived last Monday. And he received a letter every day that he’s stayed with Robin.

With a shaky breath, Steve opened the letter.

💌💌💌💌

Dear Steve, there’s nothing in the world that I can do to make this up to you. But I will try every day to make sure that you don’t ever forgotten again. You are the stars that light my way home, the sun that brings warmth into my light, and the moon that shines love over me. To experience your love is something truly unreal. And to think I put you on the back burner for a taste of popularity? It was like the Ring of Power overtook my mind. I got lost in the feeling of being admired by many, I forgot what it’s like to be loved by one. I’d travel to Mordor and back for you. Through the Gap of Rohan and through the Mines of Mora.

In a world where everyone could know my name, I’d only want to know yours.

My apologies will never be enough. Love, Eddie

💌💌💌💌

I hope you are well. I hope your classes are going good and that you’re excelling. I know you are. You’re so fucking smart, you blow me away with every new piece of knowledge you brought home. I hope that basketball at the YMCA is going good. I’m sorry I missed your last couple of games. There is no excuse. I hope one day you’d allow me to be by your side again, cheering you on.

You deserve the world, baby. Nothing will stop me from showing you that. Everything from the water in the rivers to the trees in the forest. From the canyons in Arizona to the mountains in Colorado. It’s yours. It’s all yours. You deserve everything. You deserve the best. And I promise that I will prove that.

Forever in love, Eddie

💌💌💌💌

I’d move heaven and hell

Just to see you smile again

Or remember how it felt

To have you in my arms

When I begged God for mercy

In the depth of hells

It was nothing compared

To begging for the mercy of you

To hear you laugh, to see you smile

To counting the stars across your skin

To pick up where we left off

To start all over again

I’d move heaven and hell for you

💌💌💌💌

Steve folded the letters, slipping them back into the envelope and set them on his nightstand.

He laid back down, turning to his side. Eddie’s side of the bed was empty. Like it has been for four days.

After Steve read the first letter, he found his way back to their apartment. Eddie was hope and nearly wrapped his arms around Steve, stopping as if there was an invisible barrier in between them. Eddie stopped, respecting that boundary at the threshold.

It was Steve to crack.

Steve who took that step over the threshold and fell into Eddie’s arms, burying his face into Eddie’s neck. Eddie wrapped his arms around Steve, holding him tight. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” was all Eddie could say.

They agreed they needed to slowly integrate back into each others’ lives. Communicate when they’re feeling alone and listen when one’s feeling distressed. Nightmares seemed easier to deal with, but they were going to work it through.

Eddie said he would sleep on the couch until Steve was ready for him. “No matter how long it takes, sweetheart,” Eddie said, pressing a kiss against Steve’s knuckles. “When you’re ready for me, I’m here.”

And Eddie truly meant that. They could go back to just friends and Eddie would accept it. He would be heartbroken, but to have Steve in his life again?

That’s worth everything to Eddie.

Eddie was jostled awake, feeling the couch cushion shift underneath him. The blanket on his body lifted up and a familiar weight settle on his chest. He felt at home again. Eddie tugged the blanket back over the both of them, one hand around Steve’s waist and the other tangled in his hair as Steve laid his head on Eddie’s chest. Eddie pressed a kiss to Steve’s temple, taking a silent vow to never lose him again.

“Goodnight, sweetheart.”

Fic where the Corroded Coffin boys need money for The Battle of the Bands in Chicago.

They’re getting high and thinking of ways to come up with the money - selling their shit, donating blood, ect - when one of them suggest they do a ransom.

Dick Harrington is the richest guy in town. Surely, he’d pay big bucks for his only son, right? They could get enough cash to get to the Battle of the Bands and also buy new amps. They should do this, right?

It’ll be easy.

Turns out, it’s not easy to kidnap someone because Steve fights back surprisingly hard. Gareth is limping. Jeff has a broken nose. Grant has an asthma attack chasing Steve when he runs.

The only reason they get him is because Eddie hit him with his van and now they’re all panicking about how he’s probably slowly dying from a head bleed. This what they’re doing when Steve slowly regains consciousness, tied up in Gareth’s mom’s basement.

They don’t stop panicking until he’s like, “Um, can I get a cigarette?”

Steve is both the best and worst hostage they’ve ever had (also the only hostage they’ve ever had). He doesn’t scream or cry like they thought he would, but he’s really bitchy and kinda mean, and he does try to escape when Eddie unties him so he can use the bathroom.

It’s like three hours later when Steve tells them that his dad is not going to pay a ransom because like, “He doesn’t even like me.”

“He’ll pay,” Eddie says, breaking his hour long streak of ignoring Steve. “Anybody would pay to get their kid back.”

“He didn’t last time.”

Freeze. Record scratch. “What?”

“What do you need the money for anyways?” Steve asks. Grant tells him and a Steve nods like, “Oh. Yeah, I can get you the money. Easy peasy.”

Cut to a genre change. This is a heist now and the Corroded Coffin boys quickly learn that Steve is fucking insane and also, maybe their manager now?

So... I'm writing a fic. It's been sitting on my drafts for over six months, that's why I think it's time to post it even though I barely have anything more written.

Maybe now that it's published I'll have more motivation, anyways; here it is:

Erlking. / (ˈɜːlˌkɪŋ) / noun. German myth: a malevolent spirit who carries children off to death.

Jonathan just wanted to find his brother and was looking wherever he could, and if 'wherever' meant Harrington's backyard, he would look at it.

It was just that Jonathan was expecting to find his brother. Not... King Steve and Eddie 'The Freak' Munson having a pretty enthusiastic make up session.

Or. Stranger things through out the seasons with established steddie, Steve being friends with everyone, Hopper and Wayne being surrogate fathers and death lurking at every corner of Steve's life.

Archive Warnings:

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death (temporary).

Categories: Gen, M/M

Fandom: Stranger Things (TV 2016)

Relationships:

Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Jonathan Byers & Steve Harrington, Jonathan Byers & Steve Harrington & Nancy Wheeler, Steve Harrington & The Party, Steve Harrington & Wayne Munson, Robin Buckley & Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington & Jim "Chief" Hopper, Steve Harrington & Everyone, Minor or Background Relationship(s)

Additional Tags:

Steve Harrington-centric, Queer Steve Harrington, Queer Eddie Munson, Canon Rewrite, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Established Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Secret Relationship, Jonathan Byers & Steve Harrington Friendship, The Party as Family (Stranger Things), Steve Harrington Acting as The Party's Big Brother, Steve Harrington Has Bad Parents, Steve Harrington Has Absent Parents, Platonic Soulmates Robin Buckley & Steve Harrington, Protective Eddie MunsonProtective Wayne Munson, Protective Jim "Chief" Hopper, Found Family, Everyone Loves Steve Harrington, Final Boss Vecna, Death, Temporary Character Death, Major Character Undeath, Talks About Death, Body Horror, Torture, Suicidal Thoughts, Grief/Mourning, POV Multiple, POV Outsider, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Self-Indulgent, Gratuitous use of italics, Good Babysitter Steve Harrington, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Graphic Description, Tag – Freeform.

Eddie is trying to get a book off the shelf at the library and Steve is in his way so he just tries to reach around him. Steve interpreted Eddie’s arms reaching around him wrong and hugs him.

They are not friends.

They have literally never talked to each other.

It’s a good hug and Steve pats Eddie on the back afterwards like, “Good talk.”

And then just leaves him there with a crush that is growing.

Fanfiction Giveaway!

We did it! Today, I woke up with 502 followers on Tumblr!

Again, thank you to everyone who has ever liked, reblogged, commented on, and generally interacted with my content. 500 may not seem like a lot to some, but it's way more than I ever thought I'd have when I started this blog.

With that in mind, the giveaway parameters are under the cut!

How to Enter and What You Win

The winner will receive at least 2,000 words of Stranger Things fanfiction written by me based on whatever prompt they send me.

To enter, make sure you are following me and reblog this post with the tags #DreamerGiveaway and your favorite trope (ie. #friends to lovers or #Hurt/Comfort or even #AntiTropes). The trope tags won't have anything to do with who wins or what kind of fic I write, I'm just curious.

The giveaway will close in two weeks and the winner will be announced and contacted on Saturday, February 15th.

What I Will and Won't Write

This is a steddie blog, but I'm open to writing any of the following ships if that suits your fancy. This is a giveaway! It's supposed to be for you! (steddie, platonic stobin, buckingham, ronance, harringrove, stonathan, vickey x robin, or gen)

I am happy to write something completely new based on your prompt but if you would like to use this opportunity to ask me to expand on an older post I am happy to do that as well.

I will contact the winner with a short list of things to include in their prompt to make sure I get all the details I need to start writing.

For this giveaway, I will not be writing smut or anything deaddove. While I may be open to that in the future I am not at a place in my writing where I can write those things well. It would be a disaster for me and a disappointment for you. Maybe someday I'll spread my freak wings on this blog, but it won't be today 😅

And once again for good measure, THANK YOU!

(In the same universe as this post because it’s funnier that way)

Wayne spends an hour talking to Steve, trying to build some connection with the kid since it seems like he’s gonna be around for a while and Eddie really likes him.

It’s not the most natural conversation because neither seem to be big talkers but Wayne feels pretty good about it. Until Steve leaves and Eddie opens his trap.

Eddie, trying his best to destroy their can opener in the kitchen, says ten minutes after Steve leaves, “Wayne, I thought you hated being in marching band.”

“I did.”

“Why’d you spend an hour talking about it then?” Eddie asks. “I’ve literally never heard you say that much about anything.”

“Steve’s in the marching band. Just trying to find some common ground.”

“Steve’s not in the marching band.”

“Yes, he is,” Wayne says. “He was wearing a marching band tshirt.”

“No, Steve’s wearing Robin’s tshirt,” Eddie grins, finally succeeding in opening a can of peaches. “Robin is in the marching band. Steve graduated last year.”

Well. Fuck.

“What the hell does that kid like?”

“I dunno,” Eddie shrugs (he absolutely does know). “He kinda just goes with the flow.”

Steddie soulmate first words are fun and all but Eddie Munson will forever be a dramatic motherfucker, Steve has a full 3 page essay scrawled over his back about the dangers of capitalism and his dad hates it, you think Eddie would get the chance to speak to the Steve Harrington and wouldn't milk it for the most Shakespeare worthy performance you've ever seen in your goddamn life

Bonus points, Robin is his platonic soulmate and she'll ramble till the sun goes down so steve just has no space left on his body by the time those two are finished

Wayne’s opinion on Richard Harrington is not good and his opinion on his kid is not all that great either. He didn’t forget all the times Eddie complained about the boy and his friends, no sir.

Eddie says that Steve has turned over a new leaf but Wayne thinks the kid is rude. He’s over at their house all the time and ignores Wayne half the time when he’s talking to him. Kid is eating the food out of his kitchen and can’t even give him the time of day?

He mentions it to Eddie once when Steve wasn’t around and Eddie, around a mouthful of Frosted Flakes, asks, “Did he have his hearing aids in?”

“What?”

“Yeah, he hates ‘em so he never wears them,” Eddie shrugs. “Can’t hear for shit without ‘em though.”

Well.

Now Wayne feels like an asshole.

I just really love the visual image of Steve at a Corroded Coffin concert at the Hideaway but in full preppy style. Like no effort to be metal or punk or even rock, just full polo shirt, khaki pants, sweater around the shoulders. And like...he doesn't dress this way all the time, not so...purposefully, so everyone is a little confused why he's going all out for the concert, like he's going to look SO out of place.

but little do they know he's doing it entirely on purpose because he knows it drives Eddie absolutely batshit insane to see Steve all slutted up like this, and Steve's a little mean and wants Eddie to suffer because Eddie won't fuck him in the week leading up to a show because it distracts him from practice and stuff. So anyway, Steve rocks up to the Hideaway looking like Eddie's biggest wet dream.

Bonus: douchey prep jock Steve

Steve, a former child model that was moderately successful in very niche art house circles and would’ve probably still been successful if his parents didn’t try to fix their relationship by dumping him in a small town and becoming conservative, thanks god everyday that Hawkins is where culture goes to die. Those pictures will never see the light of day here and he’s happy about that.

Robin, the daughter of hippies and lover of niche art house stuff, spends year harboring a crush on a pretty androgynous girl in her parents’ art books.

She shows one to Steve and says something like, “This is the girl that made me realize that I liked girls.”

Steve’s like… “That’s me.”

Robin just stares at him so Steve moves her finger to a different person on the page and says, “Say it was her. I can get you her number.”