This Is Enough!

Uni.

An Unexpected Gift

written for ‘alone’ | wc: 999 # | steddie | rated: t | cw: no archive warnings apply | tags: pre-season four, pre-relationship, fluff, steve has a crush on eddie, eddie has no clue

@steddieholidaydrabbles

Part One Part Two

Winter break was in full force in Hawkins, complete with a post-Christmas Day bash at the Harrington residence. And after a full day or more stuck with their extended families, the student body was desperate to let loose.

Cue Eddie and his little black lunchbox.

The timing was perfect. His usual customers would have run through their stashes from before school let out, and he could even up charge a little extra when people tried to give him shit. Even then, he was still their cheapest option.

The extra cash would be worth having to convince Wayne to drop him off, still without his van. If he played his cards right, his haul from the party might be enough that he could finally take his van into the shop and stop having to share the pickup with his uncle.

So, perched on his usual armchair and nursing a watered-down rum and coke, Eddie pilfered out the goods. Only a few people noticed the lightly higher prices Eddie asked for, and even then, they wanted their weed more than they wanted to argue.

The house wasn’t decorated very extravagantly, so most everyone looked like everyone else in the dim light of the living room. A customer was a customer, and hard cash was hard cash.

He cleared his lunchbox just about halfway through the party, though he wasn’t sure just how much he’d made in profit. He made a point not to whip out the cash from the pocket inside his jacket with so many people around.

After that, Eddie didn’t exactly need to lurk around. He pulled out his backpack for the lunchbox, and the heavier coat he’d laid on the chair’s arm next to him.

One last unlucky customer sidled up to him.

“Hey, Munson,” Steve said, standing there in a trademark striped polo and dark jeans.

“Hey,” Eddie said back, settling his jacket over his front. He gave a strained smile. “Uh, I’m all out for the night. Sorry.”

Steve hadn’t always bought from Eddie, and he never seemed to mind when Eddie sold at his parties. But he rarely bought by himself, usually serving as the bank from which his friends funded their drug habits.

“No, I was actually wondering if I could ask you something.” Steve rubbed a hand at the back of his neck, unable to meet Eddie’s gaze. “Upstairs, if that’s alright? Alone?”

This was a bad idea. It was one thing for Steve to associate with him in the anonymity of the crowded mall, but there were only certain thoughts that went through people’s minds when Steve Harrington took people upstairs toward his bedroom.

And Eddie was not one of those people.

More like the opposite.

“Five minutes,” Steve promised. “I’ll even walk you out.”

“Not necessary, Harrington.” Eddie rolled his eyes and stepped past Steve, his beeline for the stairs serving as his answer to Steve.

They weaved past the drunk and/or high partygoers lining the stairs. With Eddie going first, he assumed that the strange looks he was getting was less than he if he’d been following Steve.

Who knew who had seen him go straight into the King’s bedroom.

He took a place in the center of the room, hands tucked firmly in his jacket pockets and backpack on his shoulder. Steve closed the door behind him, but he didn’t notice Eddie’s highly-raised brows, instead heading straight for his dresser.

Steve picked up a wide, white box and turned, holding it straight out toward Eddie.

“I didn’t know we were doing a gift exchange,” Eddie said.

“It’s just…something I thought you’d like.” Steve shrugged one shoulder, still holding the box. “I don’t expect, like, reciprocation or anything.”

Eddie peered at the top of the box, where a line of blue text spelled out ‘Bloomingdale’s.’ Eddie leveled his gaze at Steve, but all he got in return was seeing Steve nervously bite at his lower lip.

Eddie took the box.

He heard Steve swallow hard as Eddie worked off the fitted cardboard lid, taking it before Eddie had to ask. Letting Eddie see the garment inside in all its surprising glory.

“It’s—”

“They had one in black, like you’d said.” Steve pointed to the gift, as if Eddie couldn’t see exactly what he was holding.

It was the jacket from that day at the mall. Stiff, because it was new, but clean denim with bright silver buttons on the breast pockets and down the front. The only difference: black, instead of blue.

Eddie dragged his hand across the fabric, remembering how warm the one he’d tried on had been. The warmth that came from nicely made stuff.

“You actually remembered that?” he said.

Steve fucking shrugged again, like he just went around remembering random bits of trivia from people he should never be associating with, much less buying Christmas presents.

The worst thing? Eddie wanted to keep it.

It would be a lot harder for Steve to try and take the gift back if Eddie had it safely in his own closet. Refusing the gift meant Steve could just return it.

Was Eddie supposed to refuse it?

He knew one thing for sure.

Steve Harrington was confusing the hell out of him.

“I’m planning another party. For New Year’s,” Steve said, breaking up the silence of Eddie’s indecision. His hand still on the jacket, Eddie looked him, mouth surely hanging open. Steve pursed his mouth, seemingly unsure of his own words. “If you want to plan…to be there.”

Eddie would have been there regardless. Didn’t usually get an invite to these things.

He narrowed his eyes toward Steve, who he was sure hadn’t not looked nervous since he first walked up to Eddie in the living room.

“I’ll think about it,” he said slowly. He lifted the jacket from the box, officially accepting the gift and tossed the bottom part onto Steve’s bed. As he headed for the door, he added, “And, thank you. For the jacket.”

“Don’t mention it."

Hide Your Heart pt.4

Part four of the Steve Harrington has bad parents au. I would’ve posted this last night but I past out right after finishing the chapter in an daze of insomnia

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 |

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Steve had been up for hours, waiting for his parents to come back. Maybe he was right and they were never coming back. What if they had just packed up and taken off without a goodbye? It wouldn’t be the first time they’d done that, making excuses about flight times and scheduling errors. 

He decided to clean the kitchen, like he always did when he was stressed. It was three in the morning, he was standing on top of the counter to dust the overly complicated light fixture in the kitchen, when the front door banged open. He heard a shrill cackle and the sound of furniture being jostled around. They were drunk, of course they were fucking drunk. He was just about to hop down off the counter when his mother stumbled into the kitchen.

“Wha-h-what’re you doin’ on the cowter, Steven?” She snorted, falling against the table and slouching her head down to lay on it.

“Nothing, mother. You should get to bed.” He got down, taking her arm to guide her up the stairs. His father was passed out on the couch, he would have to keep his call with Eddie quiet.

“Oh, Stevie, you would’ve loved the dessert!”

 Steve’s stomach dropped, he tried to pay attention to her rambling but he couldn’t listen to her gush about the chocolate cake because his mother hadn’t called him Stevie since the first trip they took. He was 8 years old, she had wrapped him in her arms and whispered how much she would miss him and how it would be over before he knew it into his hair. She had held his hand until she had to get in the car and the nanny had to pull him back. She was losing consciousness, words slurring as she drifted and her head hit the pillow with a snore.

Steve sat a cup of water on her bedside, alongside tylenol for when she woke up, he pressed his lips to her forehead on his way out, “Goodnight, mother.” He whispered before closing the door.

He dragged a kitchen chair over to where the phone hung on the wall, slumping into it as he put in Eddie’s number. It wasn’t until he was listening to the faint click on the receiving end that he remembered his father snoring on the couch. It was too late to hang up, so he resigned himself to whispering and praying that his father didn’t wake up in a drunken stupor.

“Mh’ello?” Eddie’s voice mumbled sleepily.

Steve breathed out, a sigh of guilt, “Hi, I can call later if—”

“Stevie,” Eddie’s voice filled with warmth and Steve bit back a grin, there were no bittersweet memories that plagued his mind when Eddie said the name, “always up to talk to you, sweetheart.”

“Are you sure?” He whispered, already preparing to make himself hang up.

“I promise.” Eddie said it so sincerely, sounding genuinely happy that he called, who was Steve to argue?

“Ok,” It was so quiet, barely a word, Steve wasn’t sure if he spoke it or if it was his breath that formed the word of its own accord.

“Is there a reason we’re whispering?” Eddie asked, playing along anyway. Steve could hear the playful smirk in his voice. What he wouldn’t give to see it in person.

“My father’s asleep on the couch.” Steve told him.

Eddie hummed, “Trouble in paradise?”

“Try too drunk to make it through the front door.”

“Yeesh,” Eddie mumbled, “you gonna be okay over there?”

“I’ll be fine, s’long as he doesn’t wake up.”

He hears Eddie’s big, dramatic gasp, “Risking it for little ole me, Harrington?” And it sounds joking but Steve knows, he knows that Eddie knows it’s not a joke.

“The things I do for you,” he shoots back anyway, because he’s delusional. Because maybe he wishes it could be just a joke. Because he’ll take the humor when he can.

Eddie’s tone changes then, more concerned, “It’s almost one am, Stevie, you planning on sleeping tonight?”

“You know I can’t.” He sighs.

“You should at least try. It’ll be easier to get through the week if you’re not falling asleep at the wheel.”

“I don’t even know if they’re going to be here for a week.” He paused, falling quiet, “Is it messed up that I don’t want them to stay?”

He heard Eddie sigh, “I can’t pretend to know what that’s like but you’re allowed to feel however you want about them. You’re the one who has to live with this, that means you decide how you feel about them.”

“What if he’s right, though?” Steve mumbled. What if everything my father says about me is true and I’m a no good freeloader? 

“He’s not right about you.” Eddie told him, understanding immediately, speaking again when Steve started to protest, “He’s not right about you, Steve. I know you and I know you don’t deserve this. So you know what, live in his house and spend his money and do whatever the hell you want because if he can’t pretend to care about you then fuck him.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah!”

“You’re crazy, you know?” Steve said because he wasn’t going to start tearing up again.

“So I’ve been told. You don’t get accused of devil worship and witchcraft for nothing, my love.”

“Can you witchcraft my routine back?” Steve asked around a yawn.

“Oh yeah, all you gotta do is go to sleep.”

Steve groaned, “No. I miss you.”

“See me in your dreams, sweetheart.”

 Steve rolled his eyes because he could feel the exaggerated wink in Eddie’s voice, “That was terrible. Like, astoundingly awful.”

“I’d say I miss you too but I’m not sure I miss the attitude. Your inner mean girl is surfacing, Stevie.”

“You’re horrible, I’m just trying to go to sleep and my own boyfriend is bullying me.” He muttered with no real conviction.

Eddie gasped, “I knew you were tired!”

“Shhhh, let me sleep.” He didn’t hang up though, just settled into the kitchen chair and propped himself up against the wall next to the phone.

“It’s almost like that’s what I was trying to do, weird.” The sound of blankets rustling drifted from the other end of the line and Steve guessed Eddie was getting back in bed.

“Can you—” Steve hesitated, “Will you keep talking? Just until I can sleep?” 

He hadn’t asked anyone this in a long time, not since his father had lectured him on independence and being a man. Maybe Eddie would finally see him as the loser he was, too much of a baby to handle one night alone.

 But Eddie just hummed, “Nerdy snoozefest or something interesting?”

I love him. Steve would tell him later but now wasn’t the time, “Whatever you want.”

“Anything? Even the newest campaign I’m helping Dustin plan?”

Steve pushed back a sigh and agreed, pulling his legs up onto the chair as Eddie started his ramble with a gleeful ‘You’ve been warned’.

He talked and talked about creatures and myths. He went on a whole tangent about how Dustin was dead set on adding some thing that sounded like some weird dessert Steve’s great aunt Marge used to bring to Christmas dinner, a gelatinous cube he called it. Steve couldn’t keep up if he tried, and he had tried but even though he surrounded himself with a whole gaggle of nerds their mile-a-minute words were still lost on him. So instead he closed his eyes and let Eddie’s voice wash over him until he felt himself nodding off.

When Steve woke up again he was still in the chair—thank God he’d grabbed one with arms or he would have been on the floor. The first thing he registered was the moonlight streaming through the kitchen window, so it was still nighttime. The second thing he noticed was the phone still wedged between his shoulder and ear, soft breathing so close he could almost feel it puffing through the speaker. He sat up, grabbing the phone and popping his neck, only to wince at the sharp pain that shot through his spine. The wooden back of the chair dug into his own back.

“Eds?” He whispered, voice strained.

“Mh-wha?” Eddie’s disoriented mumbling would never not bring a smile to Steve’s face.

“You fell asleep, we both did.”

“Oh. What time is it?”

Steve craned his neck to check the clock, “Two a.m.” 

Eddie yawned and then groaned, “Way too early to be awake.”

Steve agreed, “I’m going to hang up and go to bed, okay? Remind me to never sleep upright again.” 

“Okay. Night, babe.” Eddie whispered, “I love you.” He added, like it was the easiest thing to say in the world.

Steve realized it was when he said it back, feeling a soft smile spread across his face, “I love you too.”

He was about to hang up, hand already reaching for the wall, when a shadow stumbled into the room. 

“Father—” He stood lightning fast, dropping the phone and feeling the cord stretch before coiling back together.

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Fun fact: I Struggled writing their call because I had No Ideas. You can probably tell but I Can Not be bothered to rewrite it, it’s mostly filler anyway

Eddie is devastated over a Grindr match that ghosted him. It’s been a couple weeks now that Steve 23, seemed to be offline. He scouted the app, thinking the guy’s phone might have broken down, maybe he had to make a new account. But there was nothing. He forced Gareth to download the app, because maybe he did something wrong, maybe Steve blocked him. 

Still nothing. 

He had no way of knowing that his crush went by Stevie now, and has migrated to Tinder. Or how she was constantly thinking about Eddie 25, feeling shitty about leading him on, letting him believe she was a cis guy. 

We know that Facebook is brainscorching your parents and tiktok is brainscorching your cousins, but some of you refuse to admit that you got your brain scorched here. However unlike those sites there isn't an algorithm here you just make bad choices.

Eddie Munson talks in his sleep. Tonight, after a few finished joints, he seems to be extra chatty.

Steve lays there, enjoying the quiet buzz of the movie that they had put on for background noise.

Eds had fallen asleep after the weed had soothed his aching scars. The taught skin finally seemed to relax. After a while, however, Eddie's eyebrows bunched together, his face tensing in thought.

Steve looks down at his dark curls flowing down from his head on Steve's shoulder. Eddie's face has a slight sheen of moisture. "You okay? You look a little sweaty."

Eddie's eyes stay closed. "Yeah, I just have to get the presentations ready..."

"What?"

Eddie adjusts himself. "Grrr...." He mumbles something Steve doesn't quite catch. "-'m sweaty."

Chuckling, Steve asked, "You have to make presentations about that?"

"Just small ones. You know, like earlier."

"What?" Steve sits up a little straighter, starting to question if Eddie was really asleep at all. Maybe he was fucking with him?

Eddie huffs. "Like with you and Rob's characters. Your characters both have penises, and I came in, and I was like, 'I want a penis. I want to be in with the penises. I want to be part of the cool kids that have penises!!'"

Steve wheezes, laughing so hard he's having trouble looking for something to write this down on.

Eddie stirs a little bit. Steve waits with baited breath to see what gold will fall from Eddie's pretty lips next.

"And that's something I would say SOBER!!" He shouts, before turning onto his side and letting out a loud snore.

Steve throws his fist into his own mouth, tears of laughter streaming down his face, trying to muffle his cackles so as not to wake his sleeping prince. "I have to tell Rob about this, oh my god."

Twelve Days of Stranger-mas (5/12)

I'm using the twelve days of Christmas prompts from the @strangerthingswritersguild to create an ongoing fic with a short chapter for each day! steddie | teen&up | temporary character death

PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE | PART FOUR

Day 5 Prompt: Five Handwritten Notes

Robin had suggested it. Steve had scoffed and shook his head and sworn he wouldn’t try it. But here he is, pen in hand and notebook in front of him on his desk. Closure, Robin had said he needed.

Dear Eddie Munson, 

Steve scratches that out immediately, feeling like a twelve year old girl writing a diary entry. It’s not like Eddie’s actually going to fucking read it anyway. He tears out the whole page and tosses it into the trash can across the room. 

It takes another week before he tries again. 

Hey Eddie. It’s been two months since you didn’t come back from the Upside Down. It feels like so much longer and yesterday at the same time. It’s not like you’re the first person we’ve lost, so I don’t know why this has hit me so much harder. Maybe it's because of the kids. They talk about you all the time. Sometimes I act like it annoys me, but honestly it’s kind of nice to learn more about you. Those kids idolize you, man. They really do. 

Steve hides the journal under his mattress when he’s done, feeling even more like a twelve year old girl, but he can’t risk it falling into the wrong hands, especially with Dustin hanging around all the damn time nowadays. 

Eddie – Fucking hell, I wish you were here to take Dustin off my hands for a while. I know he’s grieving but holy shit, dude. I wake up to him checking in on the walkie every morning, can’t go to work without him stopping by every single day. I can’t even go to sleep without telling him first, otherwise he’ll come banging on my door in the middle of the night, convinced I’ve been attacked by Vecna. 

Time keeps dragging on, and Steve starts to find comfort in writing his stupid little notes to Eddie. He finds himself sitting down most nights, just updating Eddie on his day, however boring. 

I’m sick to the gills of Hawkins, Eddie, I really am. I always thought I’d live my whole life here, settle down with a little family, all that shit. But it’s day after fucking day rewinding tapes, seeing the same kids and same couples and same assholes coming in to rent the same rotation of movies and I think I might lose it, Eds, honestly.

And when things in his life change, when there’s big news or something to vent about, Steve finds himself counting down the hours until he can write an update and get all his thoughts out on paper. 

Robin has a girlfriend. I don’t know if you knew Vickie? Played clarinet in the marching band? Anyway, she’s nice enough, and I’m happy for Robin, so happy for her, she deserves a girlfriend after everything. But… I’m also kind of lonely. We used to moan about being perpetually single together and now all Robin wants to do is talk about Vickie. Or go see Vickie. Or call Vickie on the phone. And I’m left feeling like a pathetic third wheel. 

Do you think we would be friends, if you were still here? I know you can’t answer me, I’m not fucking stupid, but I don’t know. I think we could have been. Surviving that shit does something to you. Bonds you or something. Maybe we would have been close. Sometimes I feel weirdly close to you, just writing these. I don’t know. Maybe. Guess we’ll never know.

There are also the Plotshots.

When you write only the plot and nothing more.

You’ve heard of one shots, now get ready for none shots! It’s when you think of an idea for a fic and then don’t write it

hi actually your friends wanna hang out with you because you’re delightful to be around and it’s fun to spend time with you. you make their day better and out of all people they could spend their day with, they choose you because you’re a good choice. your friends like you. they like you so much.

Monster Au? - Part 5

partone parttwo partthree partfour II partsix TW: Panic attacks, references to past/current child abuse, a little bit of body horror (as always), mentions of disordered eating. ---

Steve whines loud and distressed even with his Mama cooing into his hair, his sides hurt- and he wants Dad too. But Dad isn’t here- and it’s not safe. 

She’s running her fingers through his hair, he knows she’s trying to calm him into shifting down, making himself his shapeless form. He can’t he’s not supposed to be and, and everything hurts- and- 

“Shhh, come on Baby. It’s okay, just relax it’s okay. Mama’s right here.” She clicks, and Steve pressed his face harder against her stomach, tucking his legs up. Mama dragged her fingers through his hair, cooing and talking softly. 

The door cracked open, and another body joined them on the bed. Steve curled towards his Dad like he was the sun. Big hands pressed against his skin- “Hey Bubba, deep breaths.” And Steve listened, sucked in a sharp breath, hard enough to start coughing. If Steve had thought his sides had hurt before they burned now, he whined, the noise scraping across a throat that wasn’t used to making any kind of noise.  Mama crooned, and Dad just, Dad just rubbed circles against his skin, over the edges of his spine. Over the scarring over road burns on his back. Down each visible knot of his bones, the way his skin was pulled taunt over a frame that it wasn’t built for. Steve sobbed, his body wrung out, exhausted despite the hours of actual sleep he had gotten for the first time in probably years.

Everything hurt, and he just wanted it to stop. 

His ears were ringing, and his head hurt, Steve choked on a sob. A hand cupped the back of his head, curling through his hair, Dad- Steve whined, pressing into the touch, craving the soft affection, deprived and desperate. Please, please- he warbled, pressing his face further against his Mama’s stomach. 

They were talking, he could tell, not that he could hear them, or understand them even if he wanted to. Everything was supposed to be safe, and now it wasn’t- and the house was violated- and he just wanted everything to be normal. 

Steve didn’t want to be like this, didn’t want to live like this. Maybe, maybe if he was human it wouldn't hurt so much, the isolation, and lashing out. He let out a soft cry, his lungs rattling at the force of his distress. He felt like someone had shoved him against something too hot, too warm. 

Lips were pressed against his ear, and Steve wished, wished he could understand- before.

Fingers closed around the back of his neck, pressure. It was, scruffed. His mind went empty, his mouth opened soundlessly. His Mama was still running her hands through his hair, lengthening hair, curling down his neck a little more, over his face. His body falling limp under the gentle pressure of his Dad’s big hands on the back of his neck. Ears still ringing, but the comfort was pleasant and- and, and familiar.  Steve was a frantic child, anxious and nervous. He cried easily, which wasn't that un-normal for young shapeshifters, dependent on parents, and gathered pack, Cubs were normally shuffled away for years before anyone outside of a close knit group would ever see them.

It was harder for Steve when he was really small, carried a lot, scruffed when tears and panic couldn’t be quelled with words. If the body and mind were distressed enough, it would calm, a simple level of pressure around the back of his neck.

Steve cooed, the first comfort noise he’d let out in months. It soothed over the rough treatment of his throat, he cooed again, letting out a soft click, relaxing down against the bed. His fingers curling and uncurling.

His body relaxed for the first time in months, slipping shapeless and more monsterish. Steve hummed, shifting his face against the warmth of his parents and blinked sluggishly. 

Mind pleasantly quiet. It was just as easy to fall asleep as it had been last night, fuzzy around the edges, calm. Empty of anxiety. Sure Steve knows logically he was about to have several uncomfortable conversations with his parents, and the anxiety was going to come back. And Everything would be bad, because the Party- Pack, was going to be so fucking upset with him. Steve would be lucky if they even wanted anything to do with him ever again- 

But, his Dad gave his neck another gentle squeeze. 

It was fine right now, it was fine, and it would continue to be fine because his parents were here, and they’d make sure it was fine. ---

It had been three weeks since anyone had seen Steve. 

Robin had been inconsolable. Eddie wasn’t fairing much better. 

The Harrington’s where staying in town indefinitely apparently, their fancy as hell car seen around town. Eddie only really knows all of this because the Kids won’t stop bitching about how they won’t leave so they can go back to the house. No matter how many times someone tells them that they can’t go back. 

Shit, Eddie had to bodily remove Dustin from the Hopper-Byer’s house for being a dick to Hopper for no reason. Loud and angry, yelling about how they can’t just lose their spot, and why did they even leave, it was theirs. 

Eddie doesn’t think that any of the kids get that Hopper could have been murdered in that house. That they didn’t see just how not human the Harrington’s had appeared. Almost half feral and more than ready to kill for their baby.

He glances at the group of adults sitting around the small table in the kitchen. Their voices were low, but- Eddie makes eye contact with Wayne, who stares back at him for a long moment before jerking his head in the most come here motion Eddie’s seen his uncle make to this date. He’s quiet, moving in the room, at least of all the whole group in the living room goes back up in arms over something that isn’t an easy fix. 

Joyce’s mouth snaps shut the second she catches sight of him, and Eddie rolls his eyes a little, sinking down slightly to rest his arms over the back of his uncle's chair. “Yeah Pops?” Eddie stares at Hopper over the top of Wayne’s head. Wayne grunts, lifting his head slightly, just slightly- to look up at him. “How’s Harrington doin’?” There’s a tone in his voice, rough but also defiant. Hopper growls, the noise quiet, but enough that his displeasure at Wayne’s question is known. Eddie snorts softly. 

His Uncle was older than probably anyone in this town. Wayne wasn’t even a part of “The Pack” not really, and he was only here because Eddie asked him to be. Well, because Hopper wanted another opinion on what to do about the whole “Harrington Family, and House” Situation. And Murray had been very loud in his displeasure at their actions. 

The Human had yelled loud enough that the whole house had been set off. Ranting on about laws, and how they could literally face so many legal issues due to their actions against Steve. The Harrington’s had a lot of power. A lot. 

Hopper had yelled back, it ended with Murray shouting about how they didn’t even know what kind of Creature- Supernatural Steve even was. And depending on that, there would be fucking hell to pay.

They all wanted to go back into the house, the kids were just being shits about it.

Eddie twisted his head to the side, he unfocussed on the boy’s in the living room. For a moment, he was a little overwhelmed by the almost sudden silence, but latched on to what he remembered Steve’s heartbeat sounding like. It was a steady thump against his ears. 

A little fast, but given that the boy was almost always anxious- it was a good sound. Some of the tension in his shoulders he didn’t even realize was there soothed out. Eddie hadn’t given himself the chance, or even the thought of checking in on Steve. Anger burning under his skin, but now- 

He slumped forwards a bit more. “Sounds good. Better,” He ran his tongue over his teeth, pushing flat against the sharpness of his canines. Eddie works his jaw, thinking over, focusing a little more on the faint thump. “It’s better than I remember it being.” 

Which really doesn’t say anything, Eddie focused in when Steve was dying, and clearly he’s been dying this entire time. So yeah, Steve’s heart beat is incredibly strong compared to what it had been three weeks ago. “Why’d ya wanna know Pops?” Wayne for all his years, and for all he puts up with Eddie, always makes that face when Eddie mimics some of Wayne’s accent. 

Or maybe he made that face because he doesn’t want to share with the rest of the table. “I just remember the Elder Harrington Boys bein’ rather cruel pair in School. Worried about the boy s’all.” Eddie blinked at his Uncle but nodded, that made sense. Part of him curled guilt, hot, angry. 

Steve felt so outcasted, so desperate for affection- that he possibly put himself in danger by calling for his parents. Steve’s heart gives a soft thump against his ears, if he focuses enough he feels like he should be able to hear the younger boy’s laugh. Ghost over his ears, make them twitch. 

Eddie’s chest feels empty when he realizes he can’t even really remember what it sounded like. Can’t remember the last time he heard it. 

“Could mean nothing,” He shrugs, making eye contact with Hopper across the table. “I mean, he might be, fine. Or the steady heartbeat is because we aren’t stressing him out so badly he’s self isolating.” Eddie’s not bitter. Not really, he can’t be mad at Hop, this isn’t his fault, and it’s certainly not Eddie’s. Sure it’s a group collaborative effort that they apparently all banded together to accidentally try and kill Steve-

All the blame isn’t going to fall on one person, no matter what Dustin wants to think. Steve was dying. From what they have gathered, Steve’s of course some kind of Supernatural. What kind, they really don’t fucking know. He’s not a Witch, they are all far too human for that.

Something a little less human, from the sounds, to the reactions- the noise Steve made when his mother opened that door. The clicking- Steve had hidden himself away to die, like a cat does when they know it's time. And they were going to let him. Because they were too caught up in thinking Steve was human. Eddie was too angry to even think about the fact that Steve smelled so distinctly like death- and sickness. Too used to the scent clinging to him- to his skin, to his blood, to his heart. 

“I still don’t see why we can’t approach the Harrington’s.” Joyce’s voice is quiet, she’s human enough to get away with not knowing everything the rest of them do. Eddie’s kind of jealous of the Witches in their group, they aren’t as torn up about the loss of the House as the rest of them are. But he’s grinding his teeth flat every time they try and offer what they think is an easy and viable solution.

Hopper makes a grunt-like noise, “It’s not that easy Joy. The Harrington’s have every right to kill me if I even get close to the house.” Hopper takes a deep breath, “And I’d let him.” It’s there, that point. They know, they’ve failed Steve. And it seems only a handful of people really want to accept that fact. 

It took Hopper a little, he’s still rougher about it, gruff and very Chief-like about it. But Eddie thinks he gets that just Hopper realizing he’s failed Steve. 

However Eddie has to hear “Friends don’t tell Lies” one more fucking time about Steve not telling them he was supernatural. He was going to start biting people. Better yet! Maybe actually sacrifice something to a higher power. Just to the kids to shut the fuck up. Better, better yet! Eddie might just kill Mike, just because. 

They sit in silence for a long moment.

Eddie stares at his hands, curled over the back of his uncle's chair. At the adults trying to pick apart the situation. “What, what if we didn’t bother with the house right now. Sure, it would be nice to go back.” Not really, Eddie can almost still smell the ghost of the depression that coated the surface of everything the second you left the communal living areas. “But, I-” Everyone is just looking at him. “I’d rather be talking to Steve again, than go back to that house. It’s not like we, you, don’t have space.” The Byers-Hopper house was more than big enough, they didn’t need all the extra rooms of the Harrington house, they didn’t need the room, not really. Eddie taps his lips with his shortened fangs.

Murray, who was surprisingly silent, for all that Eddie knows about the human. “No one in this house is getting back into the Harrington’s Home.” His voice was dry, but strangely firm. Lacking its regular holier than thou’ tone, Eddie stared at him for a long moment. “Legally or otherwise. The Harrington brood are mean, and vicious. With or without the high paid lawyers. Digging I can do to figure out what kind of Monster I’m working with here, but there’s not enough dirt I can dig up for that Shitshow. Not if I want to get out of it with my life, and I am rather attached to my life.” 

Hopper snorts, and Joyce laughs. Both noises are a little bitter. But at this point in these people's lives, after what Eddie has seen, they are a little entitled to bitterness. His tongue is heavy, anger is coating his teeth he can’t stand it- and his gums itch. “Russians of various origins, but unknown Supernatural is the line?” Joyce’s tone was teasing, but also sharper. Eddie wouldn’t want to do anything like that either. They’d already tested the limits, especially Steve’s limits.

Murray scoffed, “Yes, because Russians are all distinctly the same, they want to kill me. Supernatural? With unknown origins, I didn’t sign up for that shit. Not outside crossing dimensions.” No one said anything for a moment, and Eddie shifted. Listening to the thump of Steve’s pulse a little more. It was a faint noise from the distance, and sure. Eddie would never be able to actually track it. Not like this. 

But it was nice to actually feel like he could still listen to it. Eddie doesn’t want to say how many nights he spent listening to it before going to bed. He works his jaw again, grinding his teeth together. Wayne shot him a look, and he paused. Right, he ducked his head, bangs falling in his face to hide behind. Eddie picked at the wood on the back of the chair, running his bitten down nails over the chipping gloss on the chair.

Wayne taps his leg, and Eddie draws his attention back up. “Buckley’s too-” His uncle works his jaw, Eddie can tell his teeth never touch. “Hysterical,” Eddie snorts, just slightly, the drawl of his voice, and the way Wayne shapes it around his teeth. “about it’all.” Eyes are on his skin, and it feels like they are trying to worm their ways into his skin. “But Eds, Steve might, might- letya around.” 

He gives a slow nod, Wayne’s not asking in a way back into the house, he’s telling Eddie this in a make sure Steve’s going to be okay when his parents leave, way. Not alone and dying without anyone knowing, way. Eddie wouldn’t even let any of these people in this house use that against him. Not against Steve, not in this way- never in any way actually. Imprinting is special. And Steve probably knows Eddie’s imprinted on him anyway. Supernatural and all, even if he’s never actually acted like he’s imprinted on Steve. 

A mistake, a mistake that Eddie desperately needs to rectify. To fix. Un-fuck up. “Imprinted.” Murray says, and Eddie hisses, low at the tone. The bald man tends to have a rather crashness, when it comes down to it. And while Eddie appreciates it, he doesn’t in this sense. “That could work.” Eddie gnashes his teeth, standing up, Wayne makes an aggressive, displeased noise. Clearly whatever Murray is implying wasn’t what his uncle was going to talk about.

Murray looks unphased, but Hopper’s tensed, and so has Joyce. The fucking Russian guy that hangs around hasn’t said a word, and he doesn’t now. He smells distinctly Wolvish too- but Eddie’s never paid him mind, he is now. Threat- threat. 

“That, could get you back in the house.” Eddie snarled, and so did Wayne. Tension was heavy, and the living room had gone silent. He could care fucking less, what the hell was wrong with this man. His teeth itched. “Like Hell-” Wayne’s tone was sharp, smoother-

“How fucking dare you.” Eddie would apologize for cutting his Uncle off later- “I know you get off on riling people up, and generally just being a fucking prick. But jacking off to this? Playing with it? I’ll rip your throat out with my teeth.” It’s not a threat, it's a promise. The older man pales, and Eddie grins, he knows he looks half feral, knows he looks like he can follow up on this request. And it’s, it’s so good. 

Maybe, maybe, the feeling of regret will show up later, mixed in with the heavy coat of guilt, and bitterness, and anger, that already coats his bones. But right now, now Eddie’s protecting something sacred. Do not touch. 

“Never, like hell. I would never do that. Using someone else. What is wrong with-” “Munson.” Hopper’s voice is sharp, low. Eddie curled his lips back further. “No ones going to ask anyone to do that.” Eddie watches the wolf cut his eyes over to Murray, who jerks his gaze away, embarrassment written in his features. Good. His teeth itch, and so does his skin- blood pooled on his tongue. Wayne was on his feet now, slower, and he tried not to think too hard about how his uncle positioned himself in front of him. 

Eddie snapped his jaw, teeth clicking together hard enough they rattled in his skull. Pain flaring across the roof of his mouth and over his jaw. Eddie hisses at Hopper, knows that the other probably thought about it, knows that they all probably have.

“You could get us back in the house?” Mike’s voice is high, loud- Eddie’s going to kill him. He snaps his head around to stare at the teenager, Hopper Growls lower- maybe he’s now realizing just what Murray set loose in his house. Wayne answers the noise sharply with his own snarl. Eddie’s old man is sharp, and protective without question.

“You could have done that this entire time, and you haven’t? What the fuck Eddie.” Baby Wheeler’s voice is accusing, angry- and Eddie isn’t dealing with this. 

Dustin is by his side, looking at him with almost the same expression, and all the kids are poised for a fight- And Eddie hates being like this, but he’s also not doing this- not like this. He spins on his heel, and pushes past the kids, shoving Mike a little harder than he needs to, as he moves past.

The doorknob is frigid under his touch, and he slams it behind him. Eddie climbs into his van and waits for Wayne to follow him out. Doesn’t remember the drive back to the Trailer, doesn’t remember any of it.

Eddie’s not sure if he wants to. All of this is just bad. IT's bad, and he's so fucking angry it's not even funny. How- how. Wayne doesn't say anything to him

--- I lied about part 5, I procrastinated literally all of my work because I didn't want to do anything for a long weekend. Nothing was done, not for anything. I also didn't post, or work on anything for ao3, shocker. I was going to have this posted like hours ago, but my laptop died in the middle of class... which was fun. This part is also not my favorite of the parts if Imma be honest. I hate Dialogue, so much- and there's so much dialogue. You know, this has like an actual title... but I'm also a Long Title enjoyer. So for now I'll just stick to Monster Au? Because it works. At least for now. If it ever goes up on ao3, which it probably will; it'll be under that title. I'd like to actually post a Steddie One-shot that stays a one-shot. *cries over 138k words* (And yes I'm going to keep pushing this link because that fic is my motherfuckin baby-) Anyway, I'm going to go see if I can get a few hours of sleep. That would be nice. I again, ask, where the hell did all of you come from???? You are all incredibly sweet. <3 (I Think this is all who asked to be tagged? I think? They also messed up halfway through making this- so I might have fucked something up possibly) @theghostinmymachine @sadcanadianwinter @failedstarsandgoldenclouds @a-huge-nerdy-nerd @bisexualdisastersworld @intergalactic-president-awesome @vampireinthesun @estrellami-1 @raysreads @knightofthieves @sassysleeplord @gezell-igg @ledleaf @haluton @h0n3y-dw @thegingerrapunzel @finalmoondragon @warrior-616 @lexyvey @thesuninyaface @whalesharksart @two-faced-biatch @plasticcrotches