Curate, connect, and discover
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
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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?"
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