I Keep Reading So Many Peter Parker In Gotham AU Fanfics, And I Got The Worst Idea Ever

sunshine boy!!!!

They're being chased by a monster and yet their first instinct at hearing Dustin singing on the radio is to judge him. I love them so much.

Part One

A large part of the Steve Harrington lore was that he left his throne, his popularity, childhood best friends behind--for Nancy Wheeler. 

This was a lie. 

It wasn’t even one he encouraged--and Steve had done some damage control in the aftermath of that whole thing with the tunnels. 

He volunteered, dropped hints to the right crowd. 

It took time, but eventually, his insistence that he’d changed, left his old crew behind to become a better version of himself, began to stick.

Or at least it did with the people who mattered.  

It took Starcourt for him to realize that wasn’t really the truth either. 

Steve did want to be a better person. He was working actively on being a better person. 

But…

(But he still heard screams from a bus in the junkyard when he slept. Felt fear lick down his spine as he charged in, knowing he was the only thing standing between three dumb kids and a painful, shitty death. 

But he still heard Dustin, full of conviction, tell his friends that Steve was the only person he could find. 

But now he had a “bad” shoulder, a “twinge” in his ribs, and a head that was plagued by migraines, all of which made him look in the mirror and ask himself “What if I hadn’t gone with them?) 

…you couldn’t be there for someone, couldn’t protect someone, if you were too busy playing high school bullies with your friends. 

Robin would likely argue these were simply the reasons he wanted to be a better person, but Robin now ranked as one of Steve’s top 10 personal regrets--even if he was pretty sure they’d become best friends.

Because Steve was the oldest. He’d graduated high school for fucks sake, he should have shut Dustin down the second he realized what was happening was legitimate. 

He absolutely should not have let Robin get involved and Erica--

He can’t even really think about Erica, no matter how much Erica herself argues elsewise. 

At the very least, Steve can admit to himself he protected them in the end. 

Got beat to shit and had to fake his death alongside Hopper to do it, but they all got out. 

Alive.

Unscathed.

Hopefully to put this whole fucking thing past them once Owens finished cleaning house in the government. 

Unfortunately life--and Eddie fucking Munson--was not ready to put anything to rest. 

Munson in fact, seemed hellbent on disturbing what he could--and Steve, wholly haunted by the fact the kids always came to him, couldn’t let him do it alone.

At least, he thought with grim distaste, as he followed Munson’s weaving path to the ruins of Starcout,  he was getting his car out of it. 

xXx

Uncanny valley doesn’t do Steve’s feelings justice. 

Starcourt was laid out in a giant L, and coming at it from the outer edges like he and Munson did means everything looks disturbingly normal. 

Off putting, if only because it’s 10 in the morning and not a soul is in the mall, but otherwise? 

Like nothing ever went wrong.

As they move closer to the center, things begin to unravel. 

It’s not noticeable at first. Not unless you’re looking. The litter on the floor, the little piles of weird looking debris. 

The stains.

Nothing that outwardly screams “something horrible happened here” but it's coming--and though Munson is creeping along just as quietly as Steve is, he knows the guy isn’t on edge in the same way. 

Why would he be? Nothing Steve said had managed to deter him, and given Steve can’t exactly explain what happened or why he’s playing possum, Munson was plenty confident about going forward with his little B&E. 

At least not until they finally turn the corner, and the destruction hits them full force. 

Glass and chunks of plaster cover the ground like confetti. Lights hang sideways or lay smashed on the floor, as do pieces of doors (and railings and half of the entire upper floor.) 

The place looks like something out of a disaster film--which Steve supposes, is exactly what it is. 

If the disaster was supernatural in nature, and also caused by a giant monster made out of the melted flesh. 

(God, his life was weird.)

“What the hell happened here?” Eddie said, eyes wide as he took in the damage. 

Steve tried to imagine what it must look like for him. Looked at the scene and tried to pretend he was someone who wasn’t in the know, who thought the mall had been destroyed by a fire and subsequent structural collapse.

Could almost convince himself one could buy it--if it weren’t for the smears of blood that still stained the floor. 

He stared at said smears, trying to match up which puddle was the one Billy died in, in comparison to all the other stains that the feds hadn’t bothered to remove. 

Recalled the way Max screamed, fighting her way towards her step-brother when he finally fell.

The yell Billy himself had let out, when he’d managed to shake off the Mindflayer, long enough to give El the time she needed. 

Steve hadn’t really thought about it until now. 

Billy’s death.

 Hadn’t really had time too, given Owens had pulled him and a handful of others out of the ambulance and forced them into hiding.

(From the fucking Russians still hanging around, apparently, though that had been Owens flimsy excuse. Murray and Hopper and long guessed it was something far closer to home. 

“You ever think about how weird that was? That Russians made it to Hawkins and no one ever noticed?” Hopper had asked, a beer in the same hand that had an IV sticking out of the back of it. “Given the lab was right across town you think they’d be watching for that kinda thing.” 

“Please Jim, I am begging you, for once, to use your head. They didn’t get here without assistance and they certainly didn’t do it without help from our own government.” Murray had scoffed in return. 

He held two lit cigarettes in his hand, and was reaching for a third.

“Why the hell would the US military let in Russians?"

“An excellent question, and I’ll return it with one of my own. If we assume we are being lied too, and all the Russians are actually gone, why would Owens still need to hide us?"

“...Fuck.”

“Fuck indeed.”)

Now, Steve found he had all the time in the world to contemplate Billy Hargrove and his mostly unnoticed possession. His supposed sacrifice. 

 Had it redeemed him, the way movies and TV shows always said that kind of death, did? 

Steve imagined the sneered grin on Billy’s face that night at the Byers. Felt phantom knuckles brush across his face, the fury that had ignited within him when Billy hadn’t gone for him, but for Lucas.

Compared it to his own fight with Jonathan in ‘82. 

The words he’d allowed Tommy to spray upon the theater sign regarding his own girlfriend. The camera he’d destroyed. 

The demogorgon in the Byers house, lights flashing as it tore through the wall. 

If things had been different, if Steve hadn’t survived back then--would people wonder the same things about him? Would they ask themselves if his sacrifice was worth it--if it proved he was a good person, under it all? 

“Harrington?” 

Steve jumped, startling when Munson nudged him. 

“You good, man?” He asked, and Steve almost laughed at him because no, he definitely was not good. 

He can’t say that though, and so he does what he always does. Shoves the thoughts down, puts the feelings back inside a box in his mind. 

Lies. 

“Yeah--fine.” He said, brushing off his staring. “Come on, Scoops is that way.” 

He gestures, ignoring the concerned look that’s overtaken Munson’s face. 

Panicking he knows, will not get his keys back, and neither will it help him learn what idiot is poking around the Upside Down this time. 

Because for all of Murray's conspiracies, he doesn’t actually think the feds are Munson’s benefactor. Owens had been inclined to agree, when Steve first reported this entire situation back. 

It’s definitely not his parents, who are conveniently overseas in London. 

That leaves very little options, including a disturbing possibility of a new player to the game, and given all the green goo Steve had seen, the way they all know it does--something, to help power the gate... 

It’d be nice to get ahead of things for once, instead of scrambling to catch up. 

(Screw Hopper and Owens and everyone who told Steve to stay out of it.

He knew damn well Munson wouldn’t listen to his warnings. 

Wouldn’t back off and definitely wouldn’t leave it alone.

Hopper’s half-delirious (and morphine fueled) rants about this finally being a wakeup call for Munson if he didn’t listen wasn’t going to make up for the blood on Steve's hands if the guy went in there without him and died. ) 

Walking through Scoop's is almost more unnerving than walking through the mall itself. Likely because Steve spent time here, and seeing it in it's destroyed state--lights off, ice cream melted and fouling the air with the a rancid stench do him no favors.

The You Suck board is laying haphazardly on the floor.

Steve forces himself to walk by it, and breathes only through his mouth.

“Your locker, my liege!” Munson crows as they enter the back part of Scoop’s, throwing out an arm at it like he’s presenting a game show prize. “Shall we see if the treasure we seek is behind door number one?” 

Steve rolls his eyes, but remains quiet as he steps up and enters his combination. 

It swings open as easily as it ever had, and there, hanging from the crooked hook, is the car keys Steve is so desperately after. 

Munson throws his hands in the air, like Steve’s just shot the winning basket of a game. 

“Score!” He yells, and Steve grins reflexively even as he shushes him. 

“Now," Munson says dramatically, "the hunt begins for our second prize.”

Steve rolls his eyes.

“I told you I don’t have a class ring.” 

“And yet they have me searching for one anyway.” Like a hound zeroing in on a trail, he immediately orients to the back of Scoop’s, waltzing through to the backrooms like this was everyday for him.

Given his confusing and handwaved excuse of how he got involved in this, Steve suppose it could be. 

(He had decided, sometime between the first and fifth time he’d tried to get Eddie to explain how, exactly he’d been roped into this little mission, that the man could never meet Dustin.

Henderson was already too good at steamrolling over Steve, explaining nothing other than the facts that would force them all to do what the little shit wanted, all the while leading them further into trouble.

He didn’t need to befriend someone like Munson, whose mastery of the same bullshit had him doing, well.

This.) 

To the end of the hall Eddie skipped, and Steve kept his eyes on his jacket. Some sort of demon thing was posed on the back, a shirt that had been ripped up and resewn to be a backpatch. 

It was better than looking at anything else back here.

It took them no time at all to reach their destination. 

The door down had a shiny new lock on it. A big thing, with chains so thick Steve briefly wondered if they were worried about containment. 

Had they pulled something through the gate, before it had exploded?

The base was large--larger than Steve had seen, and he'd passed room after room when running around down there.

No one had the time to explore, and one would assume any and all monsters had been removed from the premise but there was always that little tickling feeling.

The one that chanted 'What if...'

Unfortunately, the lock did nothing to detour this little jaunt. 

Munson dropped to his knees in front of a door, hair pin in hand. He fiddled with the lock for a moment and Steve took it to visualize how different things might have been if the older teen had been there with them. 

How much easier some of it would have been. 

(Not that Steve wanted to involve anyone else in this mess.

He'd carry the guilt of dragging Erica and Robin both into it for the rest of his life, not matter what either had to say about the matter. Dustin he knew he couldn't stop, but then, Steve doubted they'd have even made it that far without the girls.)

A click sounded, and Eddie looked up, eyes bright with a wild grin on his face. 

“Open sesame.” He purred as he stood, the door opening under his hands. He pushed on it, revealing the dark gaping maw of a stairwell.

Dread hit Steve like a wave.

“We shouldn’t go down there.” He said.

They had already had this conversation, but Steve felt the overwhelming urge to revisit it on grounds that he still isn’t sure how exactly, Munson got him to agree to come in the first place, and also, now that he was thinking of it, because the guy reminded him of Dustin.

“We shouldn’t be here at all.” Munson countered, springing back to his feet. “But some of us need this little thing called money.”

He rubbed his thumb and forefinger together, as if Steve needed the extra visual.

“If you’re giving me the car--and the car keys--what's the point of going after the ring?” Steve tried, staring down the stairwell before him. “Aren’t they gonna like, not pay you for not finding anything?”

Munson made a dismissive noise, waving his hands in the air like he was dispersing smoke. 

“Eddie.” Steve said, and knew by the way Munson looked at him that the use of his first name hit as intended. “I mean it, man.” 

There was no point in going through with the rest of it. No point at all.

“And I told you I was given a side mission to my main mission, and a little industry secret for ya here Harrington,"

Steve watched as cheshire-cat like grin lit up Munson’s face, in a way eerie similar to Dustin’s gummy smile. "the side missions always pay more.” 

“What's under there isn’t--this isn’t--it’s not safe.” Steve fired back, hating how he fumbled the words, like a ball slipping through his hands. 

Munson scoffed.

“Life ain’t safe.”  

“This is different.” He tried to argue and hated how stubborn Munson was being about this.

It almost made him feel bad about all the time’s Robin had protested. 

(Idly Steve wondered if this was how she felt. Like she was getting dragged along--like she had to go. 

Did her insides feel scooped out? Stomach hollow and head hurting?

Or had the excitement blinded her too much to feel the way the walls seemed to press in?)

Steve’s gut clenched with worry, and he shook his head to clear the anxiety.

Met Munson's gaze and desperately thought of something to say to convince him to walk away.

Some of that must have bled onto his face, because Munson was giving him an odd, searching look.

“I’ll make you a deal, Steve-O." He said. "You give me two good reasons why we shouldn’t go down there, and if they’re really convincing, I might agree to skip it.” 

“I signed NDAs.” Steve sighed, because this was an argument they’d also already had. 

Twice in fact--once, when Eddie first found him, alive and very much not dead as reported, and the second time when he approached Steve with his “retrieval project.” 

(Both times at the goddamn gas station, which Steve would now be avoiding for life.) 

On eyebrow raised. “Over a mallfire?” 

“I think,” Steve said dryly, gesturing around to the destruction that surrounded them, “that you’ve figured out it wasn’t a mallfire.” 

Technically he wasn't even supposed to say that, but then, Steve had long stopped caring if he actually broke the stupid thing.

The real issue was that the story sounded like something out of a bad horror film--fake and ridiculous. If he tried to explain it, Munson would assume Steve had finally cracked.

Or, more likely, decide he was being made fun of, and react accordingly.

(They couldn't afford to fight here, and neither did Steve want Munson storming off.)

“Well duh. But then, you’re the one who won’t say what really happened here.” Munson waggled his eyebrows in a way that was so cartoony Steve was mildly impressed a person could pull it off. 

He sighed a second time. 

“You wouldn’t believe me.”

“You keep saying that and you keep not trying me.” Eddie leaned against the door frame. “Come on Harrington. Two reasons.”

Steve tried.

Ran through what might convince Munson to leave it all alone. 

Figured the guy was kind of like Dustin, in that he couldn’t be too vague (because it would just intrigue him) and he couldn’t be too honest (because any idiot could see Munson would be all over some kind of government conspiracy.) 

“The fact the building might pancake on us at any moment isn't enough?" He asked, unsure if sounding desperate was the right move here (an equally unsure if he could hide it if it was.)

He’d hadn’t tried this route before--hadn’t thought Munson would go for it. 

Not when he'd waived off every other attempt Steve could think of, to stop this.

“Nah, I trust my source, this place will hold.” Munson leaned forward, deep into Steve’s space and though Steve waivered back, he let the older teen get close. “You’ve been off ever since we came in here, Harrington. I want to know why.” 

“I was in the fire. Munson. I did almost die."

He still had a bruise left to prove it.

"That ain't it and you know it."

"I don't know what else to tell you then." Steve said, angry. why was the guy making this so hard? Why couldn't he just fucking listen!?

“Not even two reasons?”

“There’s not--” Steve closed his eyes, frustrated. “I’ve given you far more than two reasons!” 

“Not any good ones.” 

“I don’t know what you want from me. "Steve admitted finally. "because I told you, you wouldn’t believe the rest of it--” 

Munson didn't let his rant pick up steam. instead he pulled himself back, interrupting Steve.

“Then down the rabbit hole we go, Alice!”

Quick as a flash he was  down the stairs and Steve bit back a curse as he rushed to follow.

“Munson--come on, wait!” He yelled back.

Eddie, of course, did no such thing. 

It took everything he had in him to rush after, but Steve did it anyway.

What else was he good for?

I'm Your Guy pt 2

part 1, you are here

It’s not very common for the whole party to come together for a meeting that has nothing to do with the end of the world.  Therefore, there are procedures for this kind of thing, Mike has followed every one of them to a tee to bring everyone together.  

So, honestly, it's kinda insulting that nobody's taking it seriously.  

“Mike, buddy” Dustin starts and Mike narrows his eyes, “look, I get where you're coming from–actually no I don’t.”  

If Mike had not been desperately trying to keep his cool for the past hour this would probably be when he starts screaming.  

“And I don’t get what you guys are confused about! We have to keep Eddie away from Steve!” 

“Why?” El pipes up “Eddie and Steve are friends?”  

Mike tries to keep his shoulders from raising around his head. He knows they’re friends, and Steve is allowed to have other friends, but Eddie is a threat. If they stay friends Eddie will drive a wedge between Steve and the party. If that happens that will hurt Mike’s friends; but it's not just them he’s worried about.  

“Look I’ve seen it happen with Nancy” Mike argues “you guys remember how she stopped hanging out with us. She hated babysitting duty” heavy air quotes “and then she was all alone when the friends she left us for left her”  

Mike can see the reluctant agreement on the others faces as he plops onto the couch and crosses his arms.  

“I” he sighs “I just don't want that to happen to Steve”  

“Oh Please!” Max cuts in, huffing in annoyance “sure it could go bad, but it's not like we’re actually gonna get replaced”  

Mike’s about to retaliate when they hear as Steve enters the house and greets Mrs. Wheeler and Holly.  

“Oh, Eddie by the way,” Steve calls, apparently continuing a conversation with the older teen “what movie where you talking about earlier?”  

“Halloween? You want to watch it?” Eddie replies 

There is a kerfuffle of something being set on the counter “Yeah sure, If I leave the twerps sleepover early then I can pick up some snacks.”  

The two boys keep planning but nobody in the basement is listening anymore.  

“okay” Max turns back to look at Mike “how do we get rid of this guy?” 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------Sorry this part is kind of short, I'm not really happy with it but its the best I could do under the circumstances.

Things are getting better now because I don't have to worry about my apartment anymore, so hopefully, the next update will be longer and better written.

Steddie vibes

my steddie pinterest mood board

"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.

Rated: T | CW: panic attacks | tags: established relationship, hurt/comfort, pre-s3 steddie

Prompt: Get behind me

For @machete-inventory-manager 💕 thank you! (And thank you for your patience!)

🕯️🕯️🕯️

Steve is shit at keeping secrets. He should be used to it by now, considering his stack of NDAs is now undoubtedly longer than any book he’s ever read, but usually his lies fall on the ears of his oblivious parents, on the unknowing school nurse for why he’s back for the third day in a row for a migraine, on his teachers who berate him for falling asleep in class. It’s not—Steve is bad at keeping secrets from those he cares about, and Eddie Munson is very high on that list of people.

Steve still can’t believe it’s real, most of the time: that who he was his first years in this school hadn’t scared Eddie away completely, that he was worth Eddie giving a second chance to, that when Steve had kissed him Eddie hadn’t punched him square in the nose, that Eddie had kissed him back.

It still makes his chest hum, when he thinks about it too hard. Makes his lips twitch when he’s spacing out in class, when he’s eating dinner with his parents or when he’s driving to school: because his mind is on Eddie. He thinks about what Eddie might be doing. If his day has been okay and if anyone gave him any shit, if all of his deals went smoothly or if Mrs. O’Donnell still has it out for him.

He wonders if Eddie ever thinks the same about him.

Steve… likes to think he does, especially at times like this. At times when Eddie has Steve’s head pillowed on his chest, when Eddie’s fingers are in Steve’s hair and their legs are tangled together, when the movie they’d been watching is glowing blue on the screen, the tape over, and Steve can’t find it within himself to get up and turn it off.

Eddie’s fingers are scratching behind his ears, and the pattering of rain on the trailer’s tin roof is lulling Steve into a pleasant sort of doze. Sleep always comes easier with Eddie next to him.

“Sweetheart?” Eddie murmurs, and Steve likes this the most. Sweetheart and honey and baby, names that fall so easily from Eddie’s lips like Steve’s something sweet. Like he’s something worth savoring.

He hums and doesn’t move, Eddie’s fingers still in his hair.

“It’s getting late,” Eddie reminds him, “you spendin’ the night?”

Steve shouldn’t. His parents will ask questions he can’t answer and every night they spend with the Bimmer out front is another night of gossip they hand over to Eddie’s neighbors—

But Eddie is warm. His hairy legs are locked around Steve’s like he doesn’t want to let him go and his lips are so close to the crown of Steve’s head he can feel the breath of his words and Steve thinks maybe enduring a phone call with his parents is worth it. He could borrow Eddie’s boxers. He could wear one of Eddie’s more neutral shirts to school tomorrow and the two of them would be the only ones who knew.

“You gonna let me go if I say no?” Steve props himself up on his elbows, the question falling from his tongue because he can’t help but tease, because Eddie’s face always flushes like he’s in awe of it.

Eddie’s legs flex and lock, his arms wrapping possessively around Steve’s middle even as his cheeks darken. “If I had it my way,” he murmurs, tilting his head close, “I’d never let you go.” And Eddie kisses him. Steve parts his lips as Eddie’s tongue slips inside, warm and wet and coveting, licking behind his teeth—

The lights flicker. Steve can see the flash of the them through his closed eyelids and even as he tells himself it’s nothing the hairs on his arms stand on end, his ears begin to ring as his senses heighten, the only noise still the rain on the roof and the wet sounds of their mouths, until it happens again.

Steve breaks their kiss, dread pooling low in his belly as he hovers over Eddie, his gaze darting around the room as he searches for anything he could use to protect them both.

“Sorry,” Eddie exhales, “shoddy electrical in this thing.”

But Steve can barely hear him as the ringing in his ears grows, his skin beginning to tingle as that familiar surge of adrenaline begins to flood him.

“Sweetheart?”

The lights go out.

Steve scrambles off the couch, nearly taking himself out at the knees over Eddie’s coffee table, and lunges for the lamp on the side table. It wouldn’t be enough, but it would be something. It would, if Steve was lucky, be enough for Eddie to—

“Steve—?”

“Get behind me,” Steve interrupts, his palms slick as he wrenches the cord from the outlet, holding the heavy wooden base of the lamp high above his head.

“Stevie, baby, maybe the power doesn’t go out on your side of the tracks but over here it’s—”

“Please.” Steve’s voice cracks over the vowels, desperation flooding him: he can’t lose Eddie. He can’t. Just the thought of it—the thought of Eddie anywhere close to what lies beneath their feet makes his palms slicken, makes his heart jackrabbit in his chest and his blood thunder in his ears.

He can’t let it happen.

The couch creaks as Eddie rises, their backs to the wall as Steve holds up his lamp, unseeing, into the dark.

For long minutes that’s all they do: the only sounds are Steve’s uneven breaths and the pattering of rain on the roof, and Steve’s gaze flicks between every point of entry as his eyes adjust to the dark.

But as the rain patters on, as lightning flashes outside and as the adrenaline begins to wane from his blood, as the lamp he’s been holding over his head begins to feel like it weighs a ton, embarrassment begins to fill him instead.

It was just the storm. It was the rain, and the wind, and the trailer’s old electrical system, and Steve had forced Eddie into a corner over nothing.

Steve sets down the lamp, his arms trembling as the adrenaline surge leaves his muscles tired and shaking. He licks his lips, his mouth bone dry, and brings the heels of his palms to his eyes. Heavily, he sits back on the couch, unable to look Eddie in the eyes. “Sorry,” he croaks, “that was—” but he can’t explain. He can’t explain because that would open Eddie to a world Steve wants—needs—to protect him from.

His teeth begin to chatter, and his hands are trembling so badly he curls them up, pressing his fists into the sockets of his eyes just so he doesn’t look like he’s losing it completely.

The trailer floor creaks, and Eddie, slowly, sits beside him. Just the weight of him makes Steve’s nerves ease, his jaw unclenching.

“I don’t like heights,” Eddie murmurs into their quiet, and Steve has no idea why he’s bringing this up but at least he’s talking, at least he’s not throwing Steve out the door for losing his shit. “Jeff has to drive when we go over bridges.” His hand rests on the small of Steve’s back. “I’m gonna go get some candles, yeah? I’ll be right back.” Eddie rubs a soft circle against Steve’s spine before standing, his footsteps rapid before he clatters around a closet just a few feet away.

He’s quick, and within a minute there’s three mostly-burned candles flickering dimly on the coffee table, and Steve no longer feels like his heart’s going to beat out of his chest when he can finally meet Eddie’s gaze. “Sorry,” he says again, lamely, his voice still shaky, “it’s normally not that bad.”

Because it’s not. Because adding Eddie to the mix—the mere potential of it—had sent Steve into a panic.

“It’s okay if it’s that bad,” Eddie states, simply, like that’s all it boils down to, like what just happened isn’t completely and totally fucking insane. Eddie takes his hand, and Steve realizes how cold his own fingers are against the heat of Eddie’s palm. “It can be that bad around me.”

Tears, unbidden and unexpected flood Steve’s lower lids and he has to stop himself from blinking so they don’t spill. He sniffs hard, instead, and squeezes Eddie’s hand.

“Stevie?” Eddie murmurs, his voice gentle and probing, “this is why you have that nail bat under your bed, isn’t it?”

Too fucking smart. Eddie is too fucking smart for his own good and Steve is livid at himself for falling for someone who’s smart enough to connect any of the dots—but Steve is weak. He’s weak, and he nods instead of denying it, because as desperate as he is to keep Eddie away from it all, to be understood by him, even in this small amount, is a relief he can’t resist.

“Wayne always thought there was something wrong with this town,” Eddie mutters, and Steve can’t help his choked breath of a laugh because of course—of course—Wayne would know. “Always said the government was out here covering it all up.” Eddie nods, like without Steve having to validate any of it, he already knows. “He always says they’ve got ways of keeping people quiet.” Eddie mutters. He stares, and Steve realizes that, really, was a question.

He barely moves, but Eddie is watching, and his eyes widen when Steve tilts his head, just slightly, forwards.

And then Eddie’s scooting closer. He’s wrapping Steve up in his arms and the smell of cigarettes and cedar wraps around him, and his face is pressed into Eddie’s warm neck and Eddie’s fingers are back in his hair.

“You’re okay,” Eddie murmurs, and then, after a moment, like he was hesitating, adds, “and I’m okay, too, sweetheart. ’S just us, here.”

Steve clings back, his fingers pressing deep and desperate against Eddie’s back, like his very hold could be what keeps Eddie next to him, safe.

And Steve’s not letting go.

✨✨✨

And then they lived happily ever after and nothing bad happened to them ever again 🥰

Thank you for the prompt! It feels so good to be able to post these again!

Also, I’m so sorry, but it’s been so long since I’ve posted anything on here that I lost my permanent tag list. I think that’s just my sign that I’m not going to do it anymore 😅 apologies to anyone who is unhappy about that 🫶

My biggest hugs and kisses to @hbyrde36 for her betaing 💗✨

h e a v e n l y

A light study got out of hand and turned into a Steve Harrington museum painting!

💙🧡

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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.

Steve Harrington who has been trying for weeks (maybe even months) to woo Eddie and keeps failing UNTIL he makes an offhand comment correctly referencing one of the groups nerd books. Weeks and weeks of using smooth lines that have never failed him until Eddie, and this is what gets him the guy? Nerd lingo he’s learned purely through osmosis.

Steve who is just standing there like “really? That’s what did it for you? Jesus Christ I can’t believe I’m going to kiss you.”

Eddie, completely shocked by this turn of events: “you want to kiss me?????”

And the whole party is in the background like: “he has for a while thank you for finally catching up before we took drastic measures”