Corroded Coffin Are Celebrating An Album Release In Vegas. Eddie Gets Bored Of The VIP Area At The Club

when i forget to log into ao3 and i have to click proceed to see an adult fic, i actually get a kick out of it. like i am an old timey queen and my bard is apologetic: “gentle lady, dicks doth touch in this next ballad. would you prefer another?” and i give him a gesture of command like, “nay, you may proceed, minstrel. bring forth the tale of dicks”

invented a game called “I throw dice at the cat”

Sad Steddie Scenario Part 5

Okay I said I needed to just post what I had mostly written instead of everything I wanted have in this chapter, so! Here we are! Hopefully it won't be a year until the next part, yikes.

Previously on SSS: Steve spends a week mourning his relationship while his parents are home and being assholes. Dustin shows up to yell at/comfort him.

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four

“I’ve got to drive the kids home.”

Eddie watches as Steve’s car pulls away, barely pausing at the stop sign before disappearing around the corner. He stares at the now-empty road until a squawk from the tree overhead startles him into action.

He can’t—he can’t think about what he did right now. He needs to grab his things and get out of here before he loses it. What the fuck just happened? What did he do? God, Steve’s face. No, no, he’s not thinking about it. He’s going back inside to get his shit, and then he’s leaving.

He slams open the door to Gareth’s basement and thunders down the steps. The guys have already settled back in, lounging around, shooting the shit, clearly in no mood to break the party up even though the session is over. They barely glance up when he enters, but Jeff instantly does a double take.

“Whoa, hey, man. You don’t look so good.” That gets all of their eyes on him.

“I broke up with Steve.” He doesn’t mean to say it, but the words are out there now, and it’s real. It’s real and he can’t take it back.

Around him, the guys are clamoring, a loud cacophony that essentially amounts to, “What?!”

“I broke up with him,” he says again, almost disbelieving. His mind is already racing. He can take this back. He can fix this. He just needs to drive to Steve’s house and tell him that he didn’t mean it. That he was body snatched or possessed or Vecna’d.

Okay, maybe not that last one. But, god --

Gareth crows with laughter, breaking through the spiral of Eddie’s thoughts. “Seriously? Good for you dude. We’ve been waiting. And thank god. He was such a square.”

Jeff rolls his eyes at Gareth. “Does it make you a square if you call someone a square?”

“Shut up, man.” Gareth shoves at him and Jeff shoves back.

Grant nudges Eddie from where he sits on the floor next to him, waits for Eddie to look down at him before asking softly, “Seriously, are you okay?”

“I—I don’t know. Did I fuck up?” His voice sounds funny, far off. His eyes refuse to focus. Jeff and Gareth immediately stop their tussling. Gareth leans up from where Jeff has him pinned to the floor, eyes blazing.

“No. This is a good thing. He was a douchebag.”

“You guys were around him for one night,” Eddie argues.

Jeff pushes up from the floor and stands in front of Eddie, serious in a way he rarely is. “Yeah, but Eddie, you’ve been fucked up for months. I know we don’t know what you went through, and I’m not asking you to tell us, but it’s sucked watching you be a freaking zombie.”

“We didn’t even really get to watch you for most of it,” Grant breaks in. “It was like Harrington had you on house arrest. Half the times we tried to visit you and he was there, he refused to let us near you. Every other time, he kicked us out after like five minutes. We had no idea what was going on, we couldn’t talk to you.”

“He was just being protective,” Eddie protests, but it’s weak. Steve had been pretty militant about visitors during the early days after spring break. But Eddie hadn’t minded. For most of his recovery, he hadn’t wanted to see anyone. He’d never explicitly told Steve to keep people away, though. He’d somehow just known. Eddie can only imagine to his friends, though, it looked like they were being deliberately, even maliciously kept away by a known asshole who probably wouldn’t know Eddie from Adam.

Jeff nods at Grant’s words. “We’re your best friends, man. We were terrified over spring break. Then suddenly you’ve got this guy who you couldn’t stand playing guard dog over you, and we’re just supposed to accept that?”

“Now that you’ve been out of your cage for a little while,” Gareth breaks in, “and we get to hang out with both of you for real, he acts like he’d rather be anywhere else. Doesn’t know our names, doesn’t talk with us, can’t even be fucked to remember shit that’s important to you. So, yeah. I think this break up is a good thing.”

Ten minutes ago, so had Eddie. But now all he can see is the devastation on Steve’s face.

“You guys mind if I skip the cleanup? I can get most of the stuff later.”

“Yeah, mean, get out of here. We’ll see you next week.”

“Or before then, if you want to hang out,” Jeff says. “Now that we’ll actually be able to see you.”

Eddie scoops up the papers with his DM notes on them, but leaves his screen, dice, and books to grab later, and trudges to his car.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The next week is a blur. Eddie barely leaves his room, barely leaves his bed. He hears most of the kids talking to Wayne at various points, but Wayne, like the saint he is, turns them away, leaves Eddie to rot in peace.

He misses Steve. It’s honestly stupid for him to stay in his room the way he does, because Steve is in every corner of it. He’s left so much shit there (including but not limited to: a Hawkins High baseball raglan, a Springsteen cassette, at least two pairs of boxers, and memories, memories fucking everywhere). Eddie can still smell him on his sheets. In his weaker, weirder moments, he finds himself trying to hotbox Steve’s scent, comforter pulled over his head as he buries his nose in his what’s now Steve’s pillow and sniffs hard enough to cause a headache.

Eddie almost drove to Steve’s house after leaving Gareth’s that awful day. Made it three blocks away before he turned around and went home. His brain had been a mess, unable to decide what to do or how he felt, and it still is days later. He goes over everything obsessively - the epic failure of their date, the argument in the car after, the two days he spent ruminating on their fate, and then the break up itself and Steve’s reaction to it.

Eddie’d felt so solid in his decision the minute Steve had opened his mouth at Gareth’s. But as soon as he said it, all his reasons seemed flimsy. Who cares that they had one bad date, that Steve had been at less than his best one time in front of Eddie’s friends, that he’d run the second Eddie had tried to talk about it? Eddie could have tried again, gone over to his house the next day or called him up, talked about it when their heads were cooler. And who cares that they don’t have anything in common? Steve still acts interested in whatever Eddie wants to tell him most of the time. Asks questions, smiles at him so, so sweetly and tells him to keep talking every time Eddie laments that he's boring Steve.

But there’s just been an itch at the back of Eddie’s mind since he got out of the hospital. A shadow at the corner of his eye that disappears when he turns to look at it fully. It tugs at him at odd moments, when things seem to be going fine, good, even, but there’s something off. He can’t see a pattern, but he knows he feels it more when Steve’s around. And every time his friends or Wayne push back against Steve, every time something Steve says hits a sour note, the shadow grows bigger and more menacing.

He’d felt the shadow swell at The Hideout as he waited in the parking lot, watching the minutes tick by. He tried to shake it when Steve showed up, tried to ignore it pulling more insistently as he clocked Steve’s attire, his inattention, his apathy, and his anger. But it grew and grew until it was almost suffocating, until he saw him at Gareth’s and it exploded in words he couldn’t…didn’t want to?…take back.

Now here he is. Midway through a D&D session with his three closest friends and three kids who clearly know something’s up with the way they’ve been trying him since the session started. Lucas and Mike are just being annoying, having side conversations, making Eddie repeat himself when they don’t pay attention to the narration, but Dustin’s actively hostile, antagonizing Eddie’s NPCs at every turn, tossing out snide remarks at the other players unprovoked, even the way he rolls his dice is disrespectful.

“You okay over there, Henderson?” He finally asks, the third time Dustin’s tossed his dice so hard across the board they’ve flown off the table.

Dustin accepts his dice back from Jeff who’d scooped them off the floor easily enough, but he sneers at Eddie. “What do you care, Munson?”

Even though Eddie knows the likely reason Dustin’s acting out, he still revels in the eyes going wide around him, the quiet ooohhs at Dustin’s words. Eddie smiles like a predator indulging its prey.

“A Dungeon Master always cares if his party members are having a good time,” he says, low and dangerous. “So if you have a complaint, I say out with it. Share with the class, please.”

The words and the tone pass over the kid who used to cower at the thought of Eddie being upset with him. The shadow grows larger.

“I don’t have anything to say.”

“Oh, really?” Eddie says, menacing, meeting Henderson’s head-on stare unflinchingly. “Well, if you don’t have anything to say, then—”

“What did you do to Steve?” Mike breaks into their standoff. Eddie’s attention snaps to him.

“Excuse me?”

Mike rolls his eyes at the theatrics, something Eddie wouldn't have imagined possible before spring break. “You heard me.”

“Why do you think I’ve done anything to him?”

“You haven’t been around at all, and Steve hasn’t mentioned you once since our last session. Normally he can’t shut up about you.”

“Mike!” Dustin hisses. Mike throws up his hands.

“It’s true! And his hair’s been all droopy!”

“Jesus Christ, Mike,” Lucas says, dropping his head in his hands.

“Oh no, not his hair!” Gareth cracks up with Grant and Jeff.

“Shut up, man,” Lucas says, with enough annoyance that the other guys stop laughing. Lucas never talks back.

“He dumped him,” Henderson bites off. “For no goddamn reason.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Eddie stares Dustin down from behind his DM screen. Yeah, he did do that. But he had his reasons…mostly…and he’s not going to let some snot-nosed freshman, no matter what they’ve been through together, act like he’s the bad guy in this situation. He did what he had to do.

“Yes, I do.”

“What,” Eddie scoffs. “Did Steve run and tattle to you?”

“What is he, five? No he didn’t tattle to me.” Dustin rolls his eyes, which Eddie’s getting real tired of seeing. “It’s not tattling to tell your best friend something bad that happened to you. Besides, he didn’t even want to tell me, but I caught him crying and made him.”

That brings Eddie up short. “He was crying?”

“He was crying.” Dustin says, somehow smug and angry and sad all at once. “I’ve seen Steve after he was tortured and I’ve never seen him cry.”

“After he was what?”

“Dude!” Mike smacks him on the arm, gives him a look as he gestures to the rest of the Hellfire guys whose eyes are all wide as saucers.

Dustin rolls his eyes. “Metaphorically tortured,” he amends. Eddie glances at the guys and can see it doesn’t help. Eddie needs to end this now, before anyone says something they regret, or anyone exposes something they really shouldn’t.

“Henderson, listen—” But he’s cut off by a herd of elephants galumphing down the stairs.

“All right, children, it’s time to go! Move your butts!” Instead of elephants, it’s Robin, entering the room like righteous whirlwind. Eddie clocks immediately that she’s spitting mad, eyes ablaze, mouth set.

Gareth, with zero sense of self preservation, whines, “But we haven’t finished yet!” The look Robin shoots him is pure venom.

“Yes, you have.” She dismisses him, and turns back to the kids who are already gathering their things without protest. “Now move it, chop chop. Nancy’s in the station wagon outside.” The kids don’t grumble the way they normally do when…when it’s Steve come to get them and is hurrying them out of the room. Dustin shoulder checks Eddie on the way out, knocking him off balance metaphorically if not physically.

As the kids file upstairs, Robin lingers.

“I need to talk to you,” she says to him. “In private, please.” It’s not a request. Eddie nods. Time for a reckoning.

-----------------------------------------------------------

Next up! Robin and Eddie have it out, and we get more insight into this "shadow" that Eddie feels.

I don't keep a tag list, so sorry! Likes and reblogs and comments are so so so appreciated!

It's okay if it takes a little longer than you thought.

How Steve Harrington Gets a Family

The first time it happened, Steve didn’t remember. He had no idea why Hopper was acting so weird until Joyce took him aside, sighing softly.

“Oh, honey,” she murmurs. “You don’t remember, do you?”

He frowns at her. “Remember what?”

“You called him dad, Steve.”

“I-” he gapes. “What?”

It goes like this.

He’d been hospitalized, after the Russians; he doesn’t know all the details, won’t for years, but Hopper had escaped from the reactor, thrown his weight—and title—around until someone had put Steve in a room, in a bed, gotten an IV into him, run whatever tests doctors run.

He was delirious with the truth serum still in his system and the adrenaline wearing off, groaning in pain and mumbling nonsense.

Hopper had put a hand on his head, said, “I’ve got you, Steve. You’re safe. It’s okay.”

“Dad,” Steve had mumbled, shifting into Hopper’s hand, and promptly passed out.

“Oh,” Steve whispers after Joyce tells him. He runs a hand through his hair. “Well, no shit he’s been acting weird, I mean why would he want me as a kid- shit, I need to apologize-” 

“Whoa,” Joyce says seriously, hands on his shoulders. “Slow down, Steve. You know Hopper loves you, right?”

Steve bites his lip on the snark that wants to come out, instead choosing to just blink at her.

“Christ,” Joyce laments, “I’m going back to school, everyone need so much damn therapy.” She takes a breath and looks Steve in the eye. “Hopper loves you, Steve. He’s considered you his kid for a long time now.”

Steve gapes at her. “No he hasn’t!”

Joyce raises a brow. “Uh-huh. And how many parties has he busted, exactly? And how many marks do you have on your record?”

Steve snaps his mouth shut. “Oh, shit,” he whispers, looking up at Joyce. “He- he does? Really?”

“Really,” Joyce confirms, pulling him into a hug.

“Oh,” he mumbles, before letting himself enjoy the hug.

Later, when he’s about to head home, he stops in front of Hopper, glancing nervously over to Joyce, who nods encouragingly. “Can I, uh. Talk to you? For a second?”

Hopper narrows his eyes. “What’s wrong?”

Steve’s eyes widen. “No, nothing! Just-” he sighs, runs a hand through his hair, gestures Hopper out the door and around the side of the house. “So, Joyce and I were talking, right? And I was wondering why you’d been acting weird around me, and I didn’t even remember what I said in the hospital, so Joyce told me, and- and I don’t expect anything from you! At all! And it- how I feel doesn’t have to change anything-”

“Christ,” Hopper says, but he’s smiling. “I think you’re worse at emotions than I am.”

“Well I’ve never had to tell anyone I think of them as more of a father figure than my own father before!” Steve blurts out, then freezes.

Hopper bursts out laughing. “Jesus, kid, do you think before you talk?”

Steve’s not hurt. Really. “Sorry,” he mumbles, looking anywhere but at Hopper. “I’ll leave.”

A hand on his wrist stops him. “C’mere, kid,” Hopper says, pulling him into a hug.

Steve stiffens. “What?”

“Boy, you’ve been my kid since the third time I didn’t write you up for one of those damn parties,” he grouses.

Steve relaxes into the hug. “So. If I, uh. Were to, maybe, call you dad again…”

“Just see what I’ll do if you don’t,” Hopper says gruffly, and it’s really not that funny but Steve’s just so relieved that he cracks up anyways.

They pull apart after a minute, and Steve has a giddy grin on his face as he backs up. “Bye, Dad,” he says, before turning and running to his car. Hopper’s laughter follows him.

He’s been close to Dustin for a while now, but still refuses to call his mom Claudia. The most he’ll do is Mrs. H, even though every time she sees him, she tries to get him to call her by her first name.

He can’t do it. He can’t make himself. Maybe it’s the manners instilled in him, maybe he’s just awkward as fuck, who knows. But he chickens out every time.

That’s why, when she answers the door, he smiles. “Hey, Mrs. H.”

“Steve,” she greets him warmly. “Come in, come in. Call me Claudia. Oh, what is this? I told you you don’t have to bring anything!”

“Just some cookies,” he promises her, putting them down where she directs and falling into the hug she gives him.

“Dear,” she asks him later, when they’re sitting at the table with Dustin, “call me Claudia, please?”

Steve can’t look at her; passes the butter Dustin’s silently asking for. “Sorry, Mrs. H.”

“Jesus,” Dustin groans, buttering his roll. “If you can’t even say her name then at least call her mom.”

Steve’s cheeks are on fire. “That’s not exactly up to me, Dust,” he grits out.

“Oh, dear,” Claudia sighs. “I would love for you to call me mom.”

“Then we’d be brothers,” Dustin adds, “which we basically are anyways.”

Steve snorts. “I don’t think that’s exactly how it works,” he tells Dustin, but takes a breath and smiles at Claudia. “Thanks, Mom,” he says quietly. Claudia beams back at him.

“I don’t give a damn!” Claudia yells at the hospital receptionist, who really just looks exceedingly bored.

Steve knows the look of someone who’s grabbing their pepper spray. “Mom?” He calls, wet and wobbly, and Claudia spins around, running to his side.

“Oh, Stevie,” she murmurs, gently cupping his hands. “Oh, goodness, your face- have you gotten looked at? Has someone come to see you? Where’s Dustin?”

Steve opens his mouth to answer and promptly bursts into tears. “He’s f-fine,” he manages. “Ankle. Getting- getting helped. But- Mom-”

She hushes him, pulling him down into a seat next to her. “Let it out, Steve, there you go. Mom’s here, I’ve got you.”

He finally composes himself enough to pull back and look at her. “It’s not good, Mom,” he whispers. “I tried, I really did, and I know CPR but he was losing so much blood-”

“Steve,” she stops him, “I thought you said Dustin was fine?”

“He is, it’s just his ankle, but Eddie, Mom… he’s back there, they’re doing surgery, but he- I felt-” he grabs at his own chest, and somehow Claudia knows what he means. “Oh, dear,” she murmurs, pulling him into another hug. “I’m so proud of you,” she whispers into his ear. “You did what you could, you kept him stable until the doctors could do their job, and now it’s their turn, okay? Let them take care of it. They’re gonna do everything they can.”

His eyes well up again. “He didn’t kill anyone, Mom.”

“Oh, I know that, sweetie. It’s okay. I never thought he did.”

“But they do!” He sniffs, wipes at his face. “And what- what if-”

She pulls his attention back to her with a hand on his face. “Did I tell you about the time a known serial killer came in?” She whispers. He shakes his head. “He’d been in an… altercation, with the police. Shots had been fired. We all knew who he was, but when he flatlined on the table, we got his heart beating again.” She grips his hand tightly. “Doctors take an oath, Steve. They’re going to do everything they can. Okay?”

“Okay,” he mumbles, letting her pull him into another hug.

“Y’wanna tell me about Eddie?”

“You know Eddie.”

“Mhm, from Dusty. I’ve never heard about him from your perspective before.”

“I didn’t really know him before today,” he admits. “I knew of him, in high school, a little bit, but then I graduated and he didn’t and then Dustin started raving about him and… I got jealous.”

“Oh, Steve.” She cards a hand through his hair. “You know Dustin will always love you. You’re brothers.”

Steve sighs. “I know, but… we’re also not. I love you more than I love the woman who birthed me, and I love Dust as much as I’d love any biological sibling I could ever have, but-”

“I know,” Claudia says. “It’s okay, dear. Keep going. Tell me about Eddie.”

“Right. So I got jealous, and then I really didn’t wanna meet him, ‘cause he actually sounded kinda cool and I’m just… me. And I know what you’re gonna say, but you’re biased as my mom.” Claudia just chuckles. “But then I met him, and… he’s really nice, Mom. He really loves the twerps. And he’s, like… kind? And I know nice and kind are synonyms but it’s different. Like he’s just… an inherently good person. That’s kind. Nice you can fake. But you can’t fake kind. Y’know?”

“I know what you mean,” she agrees.

“Okay, good. Well he’s kind. He-” Steve sniffs. “He called me a good dude.”

“Well,” Claudia says, smiling, “you are.”

Steve chuckles wetly. “I am now, maybe, but I wasn’t when we knew each other in high school, and I didn’t really expect him to say anything. And he’s so passionate, Mom, and he’s talented, and he’s selfless, but that backfired because it landed him here-”

Claudia hums, strokes a hand through his hair. “How long have you liked him?” He stiffens. “Oh, please, like I haven’t known this entire time. Honestly, Steve, I’m not an idiot. And I’m not some backwards idiot especially who thinks two boys who love each other are the greatest sin.”

“No, it- Mom, you love Robin, of course you’re fine with it, I just- I didn’t… I didn’t realize.”

“Oh, Stevie,” she sighs, running her hand through his hair again. “When he gets out, are you gonna do something about it?”

“I don’t know,” he says quietly. “Maybe. If- if he even wants to be friends-”

“Okay, now I know you’re talking crazy,” she teases him, grinning.

Just then Hopper walks in, looking around with wide eyes, stopping when he sees Steve. “Dad!” Steve yelps, standing and walking quickly towards him, stopping about three steps in. “Oh, fuck,” he mutters, because he knows the way the room is spinning and his vision is going out.

He’s out before he hits the ground.

He wakes up later to find he didn’t hit the ground, actually; Hopper had leapt forward and caught him the second he’d stopped walking and started swaying.

He blinks bleary eyes open and finds himself looking at a ceiling tile. “What-”

“Don’t move,” comes Hopper’s voice from beside him.

He turns his head to frown at him. “Dad? What happened?”

“You passed out. Jumped outta Claudia’s arms like she’d burned you when you saw me. Much as I love you, kid, the parent’s gotta go first this time, ‘kay? No more self-sacrificing bullshit and not getting medical attention when you need it.”

“M’kay,” Steve says. “Sorry, Dad.”

Hopper puts a hand on his head. It’s comforting. “Go to sleep, kid.”

When he wakes up again, he’s more lucid. He looks around, sees Claudia asleep in the chair next to him. Looks on his other side, and his breath catches when he sees Eddie. His eyes are closed, he’s still asleep, but he’s alive.

“Mom,” he whispers, tearing his eyes away from Eddie to look at her. He feels bad, a little, waking her, but only a little because he knows she’d tear him a new one if he didn’t. “Mom.”

She starts awake and tears up when she sees him. “Stevie,” she murmurs, cradling his face with her hand.

“Mom,” he says again. “He’s here.”

Claudia chuckles. “You can thank your father and I for that one. We raised hell.”

“I bet you did,” he says appreciatively.

“And you, young man,” she says, too full of love to really be mean, “next time you tell me when you’ve been half eaten, okay? Or have you forgotten I’m a nurse?”

“Didn’t forget,” he murmurs, nudging her hand with his face. “Just wanted to stay with you.”

“Oh, Steve,” she murmurs. “You beautiful boy.”

He falls asleep again.

He wakes up again later and looks over to see Eddie also awake, and also looking at him. “Eddie,” he breathes.

It’s hard to tell from where he is, but it looks like Eddie’s blushing. “Looks like I’ve got you to thank for saving my life.”

Now Steve’s blushing. “Ah,” he eloquently says. “No, I mean, just- what anyone else would do?”

“Are you asking me?”

Oh, god, is he teasing? Steve barely survived the flirting before, but now there’s nothing else to keep his attention off Eddie, nothing else he can blame the blush on. “…I just didn’t do much,” he belatedly says.

“Bullshit.” He shifts and hisses in pain. “Fuck, those bastards got me good. But that- that’s proof, y’know?”

Steve blinks. He doesn’t know. “What?”

Eddie grins at him. The stitches in his cheek pull, but don’t tear. “That you saved me.”

Abruptly, Steve tears up. He looks away, up at the ceiling, wills the tears to stay inside. “Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you-”

“No,” he answers quickly. Too quickly. There’s an awkward silence now. “Fuck,” he mutters. “I- I felt your heart stop, okay?” He looks over again, knows the tears are there, knowing they’re leaking into his hairline and across the bridge of his nose. “I wasn’t sure the doctors were even gonna try that hard to save you. And now you’re joking with me, and-” he takes a quick breath, holds it. Releases it slowly. “‘M just glad you’re okay,” he finally says.

“Oh,” Eddie says quietly. “I, uh. Didn’t think you really… cared. About me.”

“I think I care more than I should.”

Eddie takes a breath. “I’m about to say something way too brave, and I’m only saying it ‘cause we’re both in hospital beds and I’m assuming you can’t just, like, walk over and punch me.”

“Even if I could, I wouldn’t.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep. But, uh. Anyways. I don’t… people don’t care about me. My uncle Wayne does, sure, and the kids, but that’s different, and- well. I’ll take whatever care you wanna give me. It won’t be too much.”

“Okay,” Steve says, “well I definitely don’t want to punch you for that, what the hell, but I hope you know you’re gonna get hugged for that as soon as I figure out how to undo all this shit.” He gestures to the tubes in his arms, and Eddie starts to laugh, then stops just as quickly with a hiss.

“Okay, abs got eaten, no laughing,” he mutters, mostly to himself. “Shit, dude, stay in bed, you had like five people in here earlier who all told me specifically to not let you out of bed, though how I’m supposed to do that I dunno.”

Steve blinks over at him. “Five?”

“Well- four, now that I count. Dustin was here with his mom, he’s getting released later but was allowed out of bed for a minute and came to see us. Robin, and she looked angry, are you two, like, okay?”

Steve snorts. “Yeah, she’s just worried.”

“And then Chief Hopper, which- do you wanna explain why the actual Chief of Police was in here?”

“Ah,” Steve says, and blushes again. “He kinda, like… adopted me? Not officially, obviously, but he’s… well, I call him dad, so-”

“And Claudia?”

Steve hums. “‘S my mom. Dust’s my brother.”

Eddie snorts. “Jesus, Harrington, d’you just go around collecting people to call your parents? How many d’you have now, four?”

“Nah, just two. My parents fucked off pretty permanently by the time I was nine. And before that I had nannies when they were gone.”

Eddie blinks at him. “You- wait. Back up. You’ve been alone for the entirety of high school?”

Steve thinks. “I mean, I had Hopper, kinda, but that was before he became Dad, so… I guess?”

“Goddamn,” Eddie whispers wonderingly. “And you’re still sane?”

Steve snorts. “Jury’s out on that one, I mean I do willingly hang out with the twerps, so-”

“Fuck, don’t make me laugh, man.” He sighs. “I get it, though,” he says quietly. “Mom was an angel, but… Dad got to her, y’know? Tore her wings off, rubbed her halo in the dirt. Poured alcohol down her throat until she was dependent on it. And him. And when she-” he shakes his head. “Then it was just Dad, and he got sent away ‘cause apparently his new car wasn’t his, y’know? And I went to live with Wayne at twelve.”

“But now you’ve got Wayne.”

“Mhm.” He smiles a little. “Call ’im pops sometimes, ‘cause he’s my real dad now. Sometimes Wayne, sometimes Uncle Wayne. He doe’n’t care much.”

“What’s it like? Living with him?”

“It’s been a dream, honestly. He’s the nicest person I’ve ever met, and he’s got patience to rival a saint. Doesn’t care when I play my music loud, or forget to eat, or bring boy—uh, girls—over.”

Steve hums. “There’s still the house in Loch Nora, but I stay with the Hendersons most days. I tend to bring people I meet to Loch Nora, just ‘cause it’s empty, y’know? I mean, Dust’s a little shit, and he’d tease me regardless of who I brought home. Mom wouldn’t care. Hell, she’d probably give me a condom and lube,” he laughs. “And she’s teaching Dustin to be the same way. He’ll get there one day.”

“He’s a twerp,” Eddie agrees. “I didn’t know you, uh-”

“Mhm,” Steve answers. “Robin says I’m like Bowie.”

“Like Bowie- you’re bisexual?”

“That’s the one!” Steve says happily. “I can never remember the name.”

Eddie looks at him wonderingly. “Who are you, Steve Harrington?”

Eventually they get out of the hospital, and eventually they stop circling around each other. Eventually they kiss, and fall asleep on the couch, and make each other breakfast, and do certain things behind closed doors that Steve still can’t think about without blushing.

Eventually they’re outside the Munson’s trailer, working in the garden that Eddie, surprisingly, loved.

“Imma go in,” Steve says eventually. “Get a drink.”

“Alright,” Eddie says, not looking up from where he’s pulling weeds near his tomatoes. “I’ll be here.”

Steve has a bit of a headache already, and he knows drastic temperature changes don’t help. He didn’t think the trailer was that big of a difference, but it’s cool enough he’s got goosebumps breaking out along his arms almost immediately. Then he’s hit with a blast of freezing air when he opens the fridge, and his head begins to throb. “Fuck,” he mutters, shutting the door and grabbing for a glass, hoping the sink water isn’t too cold.

It’s cooler than he’d like, but it’s all he’s got right now, and he knows if he doesn’t hydrate it’s going to end up worse. He chugs two glasses, sets the cup down, and goes to sit at the table, rubbing his eyes.

It gets worse almost without him realizing: one second his relatively fine, the next he’s groaning in pain, trying to block out all the light by laying his head on his forearm.

A hand on his back startles him. “Dee?”

“Wayne,” comes the gruff voice. “Not Eddie. Y’got a migraine?”

“Mhm.”

“Y’take anything for it?”

Steve waves a hand. “Had water.”

Wayne leaves for a minute, comes back and presses two pills into Steve’s hand. A glass of water is placed in front of him.

He takes the pills, squinting, and lays his head back down.

“Nuh-uh,” Wayne says, “up you get, c’mon, you’re sleepin’ this off.” Hands at his shoulders guide him out of his seat, shuffle him slowly down the hall to Eddie’s cool, dark room. Lay him down and pull the blankets over him.

Steve sighs and relaxes into the bed, cracking an eye open to look at Wayne. “Thanks, Pops,” he murmurs, then winces when Wayne freezes. “S’rry. Wayne.”

Wayne pets a hand through Steve’s hair. “Pops works just fine,” he says. “I’ll tell Ed you’re in here.”

“M’kay,” Steve breathes, and lets himself fall asleep.

They’re at Hopper’s cabin, an annual We Saved the World semi-party that usually ends in at least one disagreement.

Eddie’s got most of the kids corralled away in the living room, with promises of an epic one-shot. The adults, Steve, Max, and El are in the kitchen.

He doesn’t know who started it, but someone teases him, and Hopper ruffles his hair with another jab. “Dad,” he complains good-naturedly, laughing.

“Steve?” El asks.

“Yeah?” He looks at her.

“Hopper is your dad.”

Steve glances at Hopper, who’s listening, but making no move to answer. “I mean… not, like, biologically, but yeah.”

“Me too,” El says. “Are you my brother, then?”

Steve flounders. “I- I guess if you want me to be?”

“You’re a good brother to Dustin,” she answers. “I haven’t had any good brothers besides Will, and we are the same age. I would like a good older brother.”

He smiles, tugs her into a hug. “I guess I’m your brother, then.”

She goes willingly. “Does that mean Joyce is your mom too?” She looks up at him, big eyes serious. “She is a good mom.”

“Uh,” Steve says, “that’s kinda up to Joyce.”

“Oh, honey,” Joyce says, because of course everyone had stopped talking the moment El had started. “Why don’t you call me Mama J?”

Steve smiles bashfully, accepting her hug. “Sounds good to me.”

When he tells Eddie later, his boyfriend laughs. “You really do collect parents!”

I only had Steve repeating his senior year because I wanted the kids to know Eddie already, but thinking about it? This messes Steve up so so much more. He obviously met Robin, who asked a few pointed questions that made him go oh. about his life and his identity.

He’s back for another year in high school because of post concussion symptoms. His parents are probably pissed. He’s trying to rebuild his own sense of self without defining it with popularity, but he’s stuck in the place where he was the most popular before. And is now one of those loser super seniors.

Enter Eddie, who had been on Steve’s radar as a vague awareness of maybe-attraction in previous years. And the guy is protecting his kids. Encouraging them. He’s also as close to Out as he can be in Hawkins. He knows who he is. He’s unapologetic and doesn’t let trends define him. He’s who he wants to be. Of course there’s hearteyes.

But Steve isn’t comfortable with himself enough to talk to him directly. Hence the letters.

And maybe at first he wasn’t even sure that Eddie liked getting them. Or was even reading them. Probably wrote about how he was anonymous because he didn’t think Eddie would actually like him if he knew. It’s been a theme from the start, and it was probably the first thing that Eddie talked about when he could finally write back.

Eddie totally said that anyone who wrote letters like that, who was that kind and clever and generous and funny, would always be someone Eddie liked. Loved. That it wouldn’t matter if X was ugly, that it wouldn’t even matter if X was a girl. That Eddie would still want to know them.

And that’s when you have those insults. When Steve was finally finally brave enough to be around Eddie. To come to Hellfire. Because Eddie had promised in the letters to teach X how to play, that he’d be so so patient because X told him that he probably wasn’t smart enough to play.

Eddie has to betray everything he’s said.

And it is specifically because Steve Harrington is anathema to Eddie.

Proof that who Steve wants to be, tries to be, is wanted, but who he is in real life, not on paper, isn’t good enough.

(Yes, Robin had to be hugged into submission to keep her from slashing Eddie’s tires)

But, tag writer whose user name I can’t recall, Steve didn’t write his last letter in the car. He dropped off the boys, went home, and wrote something longer at first. He tried to find a way to explain to Eddie that he’s trying. That he wants to be a better person who Eddie would be happy to discover is X. He writes it, and he doesn’t believe that it will ever happen. That he can ever be better.

Anyway, Steve totally gets Vecna’d in this AU, and Eddie is one of the focal points.

As the year comes to a close, I just want to highlight all the people that wanted to create this year, but couldn't.

Whether that be due to burn out, lack of inspiration, or simply just not having the time; it's okay. It's hard to center what brings you joy during unprecedented times and these last few years have showed us that plenty.

Just keep chugging along, you're doing fine and we can't wait to see what you've been working on <3

How to show emotions

Part V

How to show grief

a vacant look

slack facial expressions

shaky hands

trembling lips

swallowing

struggling to breathe

tears rolling down their cheeks

How to show fondness

smiling with their mouth and their eyes

softening their features

cannot keep their eyes off of the object of their fondness

sometimes pouting the lips a bit

reaching out, wanting to touch them

How to show envy

narrowing their eyes

rolling their eyes

raising their eyebrows

grinding their teeth

tightening jaw

chin poking out

pouting their lips

forced smiling

crossing arms

shifting their gaze

clenching their fists

tensing their muscles

then becoming restless/fidgeting

swallowing hard

stiffening

holding their breath

blinking rapidly

exhaling sharply

How to show regret

scrubbing a hand over the face

sighing heavily

downturned mouth

slightly bending over

shoulders hanging low

hands falling to the sides

a pained expression

heavy eyes

staring down at their feet

Part I + Part II + Part III + Part IV

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One thing that has made me a much more well-adjusted person is a clip I once saw of Hank Green saying that anyone can be in amazing shape as long as being in amazing shape is one of their top three priorities.

(This is obviously a generalization that isn't true for everyone. But it is true for most people and I'm proceeding from there.)

This "top three priorities" framing has genuinely reduced my tendency toward jealousy and self-comparison a lot. Now when I feel envious of someone’s spotless, aesthetic home, I think to myself, “Having a spotless, aesthetic home is probably one of their top three priorities. It’s definitely not one of mine, so I shouldn’t expect my home to look like that.”

Or when I see an influencer with a body that takes a ton of work to maintain: “Maintaining that body is obviously one of her top three priorities, because it’s her livelihood. My livelihood is my brain, so I’m never going to prioritize my body like that.”

It also helps me to identify areas that I actually DO want to prioritize more. I realized in recent years that my envy for my friends who prioritized writing more than I did was NOT going away, so I started to prioritize writing more. (Not top three, but higher priority than it has been in the past.)