#Let Steve Cry

[steddiealltheway]

It happens after a visit at the Mayfield trailer. Eddie comes up with a wonderful plan to prank Steve: He’ll announce that he’s going back to his trailer but actually sneak and hide in the back seat of Steve’s BMW - he had stolen the keys earlier and secretly unlocked it.

So, when he sees Steve starting to wrap things up so the kids can spend time together, Eddie makes the announcement that he’s leaving, and gives Max a squeeze on the shoulder on the way out. He’s giddy with excitement as he climbs into the backseat and hunches down. He holds his breath after he hears Steve yell at everyone to take care from the front of the trailer.

The car door opens and closes, and Eddie waits a moment before he jumps out, letting Steve really settle into the comfort of his car. Instead, Steve mumbles under his breath, “Okay, Harrington, hold it together. Kids are watching.”

Eddie hears him start the car and feels him reversing back then taking off quickly. There’s a click and then a cassette starts playing which Steve starts singing along to. It would be endearing if his voice wasn’t so tight, sounding like he’s struggling to hold back tears.

Eddie doesn’t know what to do as he hears the first song end. Steve says to himself, “Use her as the fucking bait… and you just let it happen!” There’s a loud noise that Eddie thinks is the smack of a hand on the steering wheel.

He curls further into himself as the next song plays. It’s one of those playlist that he knows he would make fun of Steve for if he wasn’t practically choking out the lyrics. After a loud sob, there’s a deep breath and then a stern, “Steve Harrington doesn’t fucking cry. Steve Harrington doesn’t fucking-” it’s broken off with another sob.

Then the car is suddenly coming to a stop, and the car is filled with whatever pop song Steve has playing and the sounds of Steve Harrington gasping for breath as he lectures himself about not crying. It’s fucking devastating, but Eddie knows Steve would never forgive him if he revealed himself now.

“She might never fucking walk again you fucking idiot,” Steve says then there’s another loud smack. “You were supposed to take care of them,” Steve says voice cracking awfully. Eddie hand flies up to his mouth as he chokes back a sob. He doesn’t know when he started crying.

“I need air,” Steve announces suddenly with a gasp and then the car door is opening and slamming shut. Eddie takes a moment to debate his choices. He can attempt to hurry away although he didn’t pay any attention to where Steve was driving. Or he can keep hiding in the car and risk Steve finding him during the rest of his breakdown.

Eddie tries the door handle and slowly climbs out the back. He turns to find Steve standing off the side of some back road, hands on his hips, and face staring up at the sky. One hand rises up to pinch at his nose as tears fall down his red face. He looks like he’s trying as hard as he can to not let this take over him, and Eddie can hear him still lecturing himself.

Eddie can’t stand the sight. And he can’t leave. Maybe Steve will hate him forever for intruding, but Eddie can’t let him go through this alone. He lets the back door of the car shut firmly. Steve whips his head to the side, eyes wide in shock but red rimmed and filled with tears.

He reaches up and angrily wipes away the tears. “What the fuck are you doing here?” Steve asks. Eddie just slowly approaches him as if he were a wild animal. “Were you fucking hiding in my car?!” Steve yells.

Eddie’s just glad that his anger is directed at someone other than himself. “Fucking answer me, Munson!” Steve yells again, tears still streaming down his face which he wipes at again. Eddie doesn’t answer but slowly gets closer.

“Get the fuck away from me freak.” Eddie lets the insult roll off him as best as he can as he finally gets into Steve’s space. “Go away,” Steve whispers desperately. His words betray him as Steve doesn’t attempt to move back.

Eddie lifts his arms up and pulls Steve into a hug. He tenses up immediately. “It’s okay. I’ve got you,” Eddie says, and Steve finally gives in. He sobs into his neck, nearly close to hyperventilating as Eddie runs a hand through his hair. “I’ve got you, okay? I’ve got you,” Eddie repeats again and again as Steve loudly sobs.

“It-it’s my fault,” Steve says finally catching his breath, voice all twisted up in agony that makes Eddie choke out a sob.

“It’s not your fault, Steve,” Eddie says, trying to hold back his own tears.

“I could’ve stopped it. I should’ve stopped it,” Steve says weakly pounding his fist on Eddie’s chest.

Eddie’s hands comes up to intertwine his fingers in Steve’s, making him release the fist. “We all could’ve stopped it. We’re all at fault here. The weight of the world and the fate of these kids doesn’t need to fall on you. You can’t always save everyone, but you did.” Eddie feels Steve’s grip tighten on him as he continues, “She could’ve died, but she didn’t. She might be in that wheelchair for a long time, but she’s alive. Hell, she’s even back more of an attitude when I didn’t think it was possible.” Steve lightly laughs at the remark which makes Eddie’s hold on him tighten even further.

A few moments later, Steve’s breath begins to even out enough that Eddie decides he can loosen his grip on him. He takes the moment to pull Steve slightly away so he can cup his face in his hands. His eyes are swollen and there are still tears streaming down his red face. His bottom lip is quivering no matter how hard he’s trying to press his lips together. And there’s definitely snot and tears getting mixed under his nose. It’s an ugly cry, but Eddie thinks Steve looks beautiful.

“You saved me, too,” Eddie reminds Steve. “You saved us all.”

Steve’s watery eyes search Eddie’s before he’s slowly nodding, finally accepting that maybe he isn’t entirely at fault for everything that’s happened, and maybe he even caused some good.

Eddie kisses him on the forehead and pulls him back into a hug. “You can cry, too, you know. As much as you need to because I’ve got you. I’ll be here forever if you need me to be,” Eddie says softly.

“Promise?” Steve says quietly.

“Promise,” Eddie says, tugging Steve closer on the side of the road, feeling the dampness on his shirt grow as Steve finally lets go.

#steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie ficlet #let steve cry #stranger things

[stevesbipanic]

Steve can remember vividly the first time his mother told him to stop crying. He was only three years old barely able to make memories but he can see his mother's face sternly looking at his teary face. His father had never approved of him crying claiming that's only what girls did but for a few years his mother allowed it.

The first time his father hurt him he wanted to cry, he was only seven. A slap across the face and a harsh grab of his wrist all because Steve had walked in from school with muddy shoes. Steve only had muddy shoes because no-one picked him up in the storm. He knew his punishment would be worse if he cried, so he held his breathe before he got to his room. In the safety of his room he held a hands over his nose and mouth hoping to muffle the sobs.

When he was ten his parents left for the first time over Christmas. Steve allowed himself to cry openly sobbing into his pillow. No-one around to comfort him. No-one around to tell him to stop.

By the time he was sixteen, Steve Harrington didn't cry. He pinched his nose and held in his emotions like a real man. He let his heart be locked away and got stronger so no-one would hurt him again. Leaving the situation before anyone could see his misty eyes.

Nancy Wheeler almost broke him.

The Upside Down almost broke him.

Still he wouldn't cry.

Steve wouldn't cry until he was twenty years old. Sitting in a hospital waiting room his friends broken and dying down the hall. Only then did he break. Not knowing if Eddie and Max were going to be ok. This time he wasn't told to stop, but he did have his family to comfort him.

Steve was twenty years old and he was crying. Steve was crying because his kid was awake and smiling, telling him how badass she was. Steve was crying because a broken boy had come back to him a little less broken. Steve was crying happy tears and he was never going to stop.

Based on these gifs on Steve from @king-keery

#stranger things #stranger things s4 #steve harrington #st4 #steddie #stranger things season 4 #steve centric #ficlet #steve and crying #let steve cry

[afewproblems]

Part Two of my Stranger Things Steddie AU, Steve always fall first, falls fastest. You can read part one Here!

Eddie watches as Steve peels out of the driveway, staring straight ahead with a blank vacant expression on his face. He looks at Jeff, who shrugs and takes one last hit from their joint before flicking it onto the concrete and stubbing it out.

Eddie frowns, Steve usually waits until Eddie is ready to leave before they both drive home, saying one last goodnight on the driveway.

The evenings grow longer and longer with each passing day as they crawl their way into summer, but it's dark now. The warmth of the day gives way to a cool breeze that ruffles Eddie's hair, and rustles the grass. He shivers lightly and rolls his shoulders before turning on his heel towards the garage. Light streams out from the door, illuminating Eddie's puzzled face as he walks back inside.

Gareth looks up at him, catching his eyes once before they drop to the bottle in his hands. His fingers play with the paper label, peeling it up at the corners.

Steve would always show up, like clockwork, every Sunday with a six pack of some variety, and sit in on their practices. It's nice, not something he ever would have predicted after surviving being nearly eaten alive by a bunch of bats from another dimension.

But if the new scars and nightmares come as a set with a few new friends that had dragged him out of Hell, who was he to complain?

He likes Robin, likes her dry wit and stubborn attitude, she loves fiercely once you've been chosen but doesn't seem shy about calling you an idiot if you deserve it.

He likes Nancy, likes how smart and unexpectedly tough she is, the woman can shoot a gun like no one's business. She's a bit more prickly than Robin, which is saying something, but she cares a lot.

He likes Steve.

He really likes Steve.

Steve, who had picked him up when he was bleeding out and ragdolling in the Upside Down and carried him through the last open gate. 

Steve, who sings along to Tears for Fears and Wham! in his car only to turn around and pull out a Queen cassette from the glove department.

Steve, who bitches and moans about driving the kids around to the arcade or to the Munson trailer for D&D nights, but never says no.

Steve, who stays up with Eddie during movie nights and listens to his wild ramblings without interrupting. He smiles and asks questions that prompt even longer responses, and seems content to simply listen.

Steve, who is definitely straight as an arrow, and would probably panic if he found out about Eddie and his little secret.

"Hey uh," Eddie asks after a beat, reaching for the last unopened beer in the cardboard, "did Steve have to go?"

He twists the cap and flicks it towards the bin, it bounces off the lip and clinks against the floor.

"Woah, I didn't know we knew Larry Bird?" Jeff snorts as he wanders through the door and exaggeratedly ducks with his hands over his head before dropping next to Gareth on the couch. Eddie rolls his eyes as Jeff relaxes against the sagging cushions and drapes his arms along the back.

Gareth's eyes flick once to Jeff before coming back to rest on Eddie's face, "I uh, dunno man, I think Steve  just had to go home. He didn't really get into it".

Eddie frowns at the tense line of the bassist's shoulders.

"Who cares man,” Jeff scoffs with a smirk, “now we can actually talk about our set list without having to stop and explain every little thing”.

Gareth winces and closes his eyes with a shake of his head.

"Oh, fuck off," Eddie snarls as he steps towards Jeff who freezes at the sudden proximity, "I didn't say anything when you insisted on bringing Mary O'Donnell around to every other practice two years ago--"

"What the fuck does that have to do with anything?" Jeff growls as he stands up, rising up to Eddie's eye level, "I liked Mary, you told me to go for it?"

"Exactly!" Eddie yells. He breathes in sharply as the words finally register.

Oh shit.

"Oh shit..." Gareth whispers.

Jeff's mouth opens and closes, his expression jumps from incredulity before dropping into shock.

Eddie had done a lot of growing in the last few weeks if he did say so himself, and he did - loudly and to whoever would listen. He could be brave, he had proved that with Dustin and the bats, he had proved that by diving into Lovers Lake to chase after Steve.

Bravery was no longer a first for him, he could stand his ground and hold firm in the face of adversity. 

But the Upside Down had nothing on admitting that he had a crush on the former ‘King-Steve’ to his two best friends. 

Eddie whirls around and walks out of the garage. 

He makes it about twenty feet before rapid footsteps echo behind him, not that he had been moving all that quickly.

The world feels as though he's wading through quicksand, each step dragging him down, he sighs and stops walking. 

Gareth catches up, mild surprise etched on his face. 

Eddie's eyes trail from Gareth back towards the garage, Jeff stands in silhouette just outside the door. 

"Come on man," Gareth says softly, "just come back inside, we didn't know--"

"What am I even doing," Eddie mutters, he scrubs a rough hand against his face, "I know how it sounds dude, you don't have to chase after me, I know I'm being an idiot". 

Gareth freezes for a moment and crosses his arms. His eyes scan Eddie's face as though he can read every wild thought traipsing through his mind, it's not a comfortable feeling.

In the distance Jeff cups his hands around his mouth and yells, "Gareth! Did you tell him, we didn't know?" 

Gareth rolls his eyes and throws a hand behind him to swat the air, as though he wishes Jeff's head were there instead.

"For what it's worth," Gareth says with a sigh, "I don't think you're being an idiot…" the words come out in stops and starts, as though each one is weighed carefully before being released. 

Gareth was always careful when he spoke, more level headed than Eddie and Jeff, that's why they worked well together. Whenever Eddie or Jeff said something that went too far, Gareth was ready to pull them both back down to earth. 

"Steve actually seems like a decent guy I guess, kinda surprised about it but whatever,"  Gareth shakes his head once before breathing out through his nose, "and you're absolutely sure about this?"

Eddie doesn't even think before he nods, "Yeah man, I'm crazy about him". 

Gareth hums, his eyes haven't left Eddie's face once the entire time they've been standing on the sidewalk in the dark, they are in between street lights but that doesn’t seem to stop Gareth from reading Eddie like a book. 

"Okay, I'm going to tell you something, but if this goes absolutely sideways, I cannot be held responsible in any way," Gareth says once again in that slow, measured pace.

"Jesus, I've never known you to be this cryptic man, I kind of love it," Eddie huffs nervously, his hands dropping to his jeans to wipe the sweat from his palms. A light breeze catches him once again, caressing his hair as it billows down the lane, he shivers. 

"Steve likes you, we all know -well maybe not Bozo over there," Gareth gestures back towards the garage where Jeff continues to linger, "but you're not an idiot".

Eddie blinks. 

Steve likes him. 

Steve likes him? 

"What uh…what are you talking about?" Eddie manages, the words stick to his tongue, his mouth suddenly drier than the sahara. 

Gareth breathes out heavily and shifts, his hands come back up to cross over his chest. 

"Dude, please don't make me explain it, you seriously didn't know?"

"No?!" Eddie hisses, his hands climb to his hair, gripping the wild curls and pulling harshly. Steve liked him? How long had this been going on for? How long had he been completely oblivious? 

"I mean, I kinda thought you were waiting him out, trying to let him down easy, you're not the kind of person to string someone along so I hoped it wasn't because you liked the attention," Gareth mumbles with a shrug. 

Eddie's heart beats a wild staccato as the information continues to sink in, Steve likes him…

"Oh my God," Eddie whispers, "oh my God I-I have to go," he steps away, his shoes crunching against gravel as he turns on the spot, "I have to talk to him!" 

Gareth nods, a small bewildered smile blooms on his face as he shakes his head, "I mean, yeah man, go get him?" 

Eddie takes off past Gareth towards his van, still parked on the driveway, he flips off Jeff as the other man hoots and blows a kiss after him.

But it doesn't matter. A giddy euphoria bubbles up from his chest and throws itself from his lips as a wild cackle. He tosses open the door to the van and scrambles inside, Gareth's words echo over and over in his mind, Steve likes him, he has a chance!

The normally twenty-minute drive from Gareth's parents place seems to take forever, he hits all eight lights on the normally sleepy mainstreet and with every stop Eddie feels like he's vibrating out of his pants. 

He finally reaches the Harrington House, pulls haphazardly onto the drive and flings himself out of the van, just barely turning off the engine and pulling the Emergency brake on.

Eddie races toward the front steps and raps his knuckles against the door with three successive knocks. The house is dark, no lights, not even the flashes of the sitting room television can be seen from the front window.

For a moment there is nothing, no sound from the other side of the door. Eddie swallows and knocks again.

Then, the porch light flicks on with a metallic click.

The door opens just enough for Eddie to make out the shape of Steve, the hall light remains off, leaving Steve in shadow.

"Eddie?" Steve says, his voice rough, "What are you doing here?" 

"Hey, uh, hey Stevie,” Eddie manages, a wry smile threatening to take over his face the longer he stands in the doorway, “can I come in?" 

Steve hesitates, his hands remain fixed on the door but a slight tremble runs up his arm to his shoulder. 

Eddie falters for a moment, a hint of anxiety slithers through his chest. Was Gareth wrong?  

Steve sighs suddenly and pulls open the door, sliding sideways to let him pass. 

The giddy feeling in Eddie's chest slowly dissipates as he steps over the threshold into the dark foyer. He reaches over to the light switch on the wall and turns it on as Steve curses and turns away abruptly.

"Stevie?" Eddie says, his voice pitched with alarm, "hey what's going on?" 

"Don't, please don't call me that Eds," Steve whispers, his shoulders shake but he remains facing the opposite wall.

Eddie's stomach drops at the wet sound to his voice, the slight hitch, the shake of his shoulders.

"Oh shit Stevie, come here," Eddie says as he reaches for Steve’s shoulder, he grasps it lightly and gently begins to turn the other man towards him. Steve doesn’t move at first, holding firm, staring straight ahead and away from Eddie. 

He only has to smooth his ringed hand along Steve’s shoulder and up his neck and suddenly his arms are full as Steve crashes into him. 

“Oh sweetheart, its okay,” Eddie whispers. He brings his arms up around Steve, one hand curls into his hair while the other comes up around the small of his back. 

Steve’s face is tucked into his shoulder, his hands grip the fabric of Eddie’s shirt and vest harshly. He shudders and breathes, as though trying to stop the tears as they continue to fall, wetting Eddie's shoulder. 

“Sorry,” Steve mumbles, the words catch in Eddie's hair but he shakes his head at the sound. 

Eddie frowns, “What on earth are you sorry for?”

Steve is quiet for a moment, Eddie takes it as an opportunity to kick the door closed behind them before planting his feet to stabilize the weight of Steve in his arms. 

When he looks back, Steve is facing him. His large hazel eyes are red rimmed and shining with tears, his nose and cheeks are flushed and his hair is a wild mess, but he looks beautiful to Eddie.

“I don’t,” Steve whispers eventually, “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable".

It clicks.

Why Gareth was being so careful, so cryptic earlier, why Steve must have left early. 

"Did Gareth say something to you?" Eddie murmurs, the words are soft but there's a hint of anger there. 

Steve stiffens and shakes his head, a little too quickly. He bites his lip and makes to pull away but Eddie holds him tight. 

"Stevie, come on, I can't help if I don't know what's going on inside that pretty little head of yours," Eddie says, his heart beats wildly in his chest as Steve slowly raises his head to catch Eddie's eyes once more.

Steve's eyebrows are furrowed slightly, but the slightest hint of hope lingers in those hazel eyes. 

Eddie swallows down his inner voice that screams, run, over and over and over - because isn't that the first tenant of bravery? 

Doing something, even though you're scared shit less?

"I'm going to try something here sweetheart," Eddie says slowly, carefully, all the years hanging out with Gareth have paid off in the strangest way.

He slowly leans in and presses his lips, dry and chapped, to Steve's.

It's soft, nothing more than skin to skin, Steve is frozen as though his body doesn't know how to process what's happening and God Dammit that's not what Eddie is hoping for. 

But then, Steve's eyes flutter closed and his body melts and his arms slide from the front of Eddie's shirt into his hair and around his neck and he's kissing him.

He's kissing him!

It's a little wet, Steve tastes like tears and his nose is running slightly but it's still perfect.

Eddie smiles and reaches us to cup Steve's cheek with one hand, his thumb caresses along his cheekbone across the constellation of freckles and moles on Steve's face.

Beautiful.

Eddie swipes the barest hint of tongue along the seam of Steve's lips before catching himself, slow and steady.

Eddie pulls back but leaves his hand on Steve's face and smiles widely at the dazed expression on his face. 

"You with me sweetheart?" Eddie whispers, grazing his thumb once more across Steve's cheek as he says it.

A deep blush blooms across Steve's face, spanning from the tips of his ears, across his cheeks, and down to his neck. Eddie files that reaction away for later.

"Yeah Eds, I'm with you," Steve says softly with his own small smile. 

There's a lot to talk about still, but it's certainly a start as Eddie leads Steve down the familiar hallway and into the sitting room.

And Eddie can't wait.

For everyone that asked to be tagged once part two was up, here you go! (I hope these tags worked, I haven't used Tumblr in FOREVER)

@what-am-i-doing-with-my-non-lifeon-life @henderdads @unclewaynemunson @wearelosersyoudumbfuck @samcoxramblings @stevesbipanic @cicadabeat @xthehatchick @cr0w-culture @moonshadows-13 @tv-mind @classicdinosaurdeathpose

And to @monstrousfemale who wrote such a beautiful second part to my initial post (please go check it out because it is lovely) I hope this holds a candle to yours! Thank you again for going over linking posts!!

#stranger things s4 #stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #let steve cry #steve x eddie #stranger things fanfic #drabbles #fixed it everyone #thank you everyone #oblivious eddie munson #we love supportive Jeff and Gareth #Somehow Gareth became a pretty cool character to write... #I hope you all enjoy!

[italiansteebie]

“Aren't you scared?”

“Huh?”

“I said, aren't you scared?”

“Of what?”

“Anything, everything. The Upside Down…”

“I mean… Yeah, of course. It’s objectively terrifying.”

“So then why do you throw yourself into danger?”

“What?”

“Why, do, you. Always sacrifice yourself? If you’re scared.”

“Well, if I don't, who's going to?” 

“No one.”

“Exactly, Steve.”

“But. They need someone to protect them.”

“Who protects you?”

“I-”

“Who protects you, Steve?”

“I do.”

“And who takes care of you, when you’re hurt?”

“... I do.”

“So you see, Steven. I don’t have to make up scenarios where no one appreciates you, where no one loves you, where it’s all just. Bullshit… Because. That’s your reality. You’re already living through hell. So what’s so bad about joining me? Time’s up, Steven. Your suffering is only just beginning.”

There was nothing but inky blackness for what seemed like miles, and he couldn’t control his breath. He felt the warmth of blood drip from his nose, and he tried to hold back sounds of distress. Fast puffs of air escaped through his lips, he couldn’t move. He couldn’t breath, he couldn’t breath, he couldn- 

Warm light flooded the room, inky blackness vanishing as the light invaded the space. “What’s up, Steve-o! He- What’s wrong? Steve?”

He was gasping for air at this point, and he couldn’t get the air to flow into his lungs. The bright light that filled the space relaxed him a little but the adrenaline from the nightmare was still coursing through his veins. He could see the corner of his vision darkening, and he knew if he couldn't get a good breath soon, the inky blackness would return. 

“Hey, Steve- Just, breathe with me, okay?” They grabbed ahold of his arms, grounding him. His chest was still heaving, breaths still ragged, but oxygen was flowing into his lungs, and his vision cleared. Eddie was standing in front of him, still holding on to his arms, just a little too tightly, and he could feel the sweat dripping from his forehead. It was drenching him, and he was so hot. He kicked the covers off, still partially in a haze as Eddie fanned him, bringing a glass of water from the night stand up to his lips. “I-” He licked his lips and took a deep breath, “It’s okay, Stevie. Just take your time, breathe.” Eddie soothed. Steve nodded, and they sat for a minute, Eddie brushing a gentle hand through his hair, rocking them both gently.  

“I had.” He swallowed hard, “ I had a nightmare that uhm. That Ve- that he got me, and was saying that no- that no one loves me, and.” His voice cracked, “And that I’m just, it’s all just. Bullshit.” The last word came out harsh, tears finally breaking through the dam in his eyes. Eddie pulled him into his chest, rubbing his back as he sobbed. “It’s okay, Stevie. It’s over. He’s dead, we’re okay. We’re all okay, and we all love you, okay. I love you, Steve.” He placed a kiss on his forehead, still rocking them gently. 

“I love you, too.” Steve stuttered out, “Sorry. I’m sorry.” He sniffled, shaking his head and wiping the tears off his cheeks roughly. Eddie grabbed his chin and lifted his head, “Hey. None of that. We all get nightmares, okay? You’re always there for me, let me be here for you. Okay? No sorries.” Eddie assured. 

And if that wasn’t love, Steve didn’t know what was. Vecna couldn’t cook up anything that’d make it dissolve. After this point, Eddie took special care in making sure Steve felt safe and loved in their shabby little apartment. He even said “I love you” every single time he saw Steve. Steve didn’t know if he’d ever get tired of hearing it.  

#steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie ficlet #hurt/comfort #emotional hurt/comfort #nightmare #soft eddie munson #Steve Harrington has nightmares #Vecna #henry creel #soft steddie #steve harrington angst #let Steve Harrington cry #let steve cry

[hainethehero]

Headcanon of Steve just having isolated moments of utter nostalgia, and the resultant melancholy from it is so debilitating that he has bouts of depression for days...

Like, one day while they're hunting for some random villain of the week, they get caught in a heavy downpour. And everyone filters into whatever shelter is available to keep out of the frigid wetness, but Steve... Steve remains. He stands as still as a marble statue, raindrops pelting down upon him, dripping down his skin just like it had all those years ago.

It's so oddly profound to him in that moment... that, the rain smells the same.

It looks the same.

It even sounds the same!

Then he'll remember his sweet Mama, the Howlies. Peggy's easy, confident smile. Hell- even Phillips. And Bucky. He can feel the blazing warmth of Bucky's strong hands around him, keeping him safe and cosy. The memory is so real that he takes a step forward to touch it.

That he can close his eyes and almost take himself back to the good days.

But then Tony's voice crackles to life in his ear. He's back in the future. Back in the never-ending machine of robotic nonsense. Back in the twenty-first century where the cold never seems to melt away from his skin. Where Bucky is just someone from the history books. And where there's no one on the planet who can remember him from his time.

He returns to his team with a shattered heart, thankful for the rain only because it hides his tears. But they can all see how they're red-rimmed from sheer grief. They don't poke fun at him, not even Tony is that cruel.

Instead, they get him safely back to the Tower where Bruce swaddles him in piles of blankets, Tony makes him a hot cup of cocoa and the rest of the team curls around him and keeps him warm. Safe. Protected.

After a few days of the cuddle pile (because they refuse to leave him alone, especially Thor), the nostalgia doesn't seem so bad.

#steve rogers #steve rogers headcanon #captain america #bucky barnes #stucky #tony stark #natasha romanoff #bruce banner #clint barton #thor #the avengers #avengers 1 #mcu #marvel #depressing shit #steve rogers is depressed #sad steve rogers #steve rogers whump #let steve cry #steve rogers trauma #i acknowledge your pain bby #cuddles #snuggle pile #sad thoughts

[sleepyeye17]

Safe Space

Read on AO3 here, or below

Words: 2,415

Summary: Steve and Eddie are both triggered by fireworks on the fourth of july, and have to comfort each other.

Warnings: PTSD, panic attacks

When Eddie was a child, he’d found a black baby rabbit caught in a mousetrap. He’d taken it home and nursed it to health. It had lived a few more months, but it had always been a skittish thing, and had liked to burrow in Eddie’s blankets. Sometimes Eddie would hold it inside his jacket, and feel the rapid thumping of its heart, so fast he was worried it might have a heart attack and die. Eventually that’s what happened. The bunny’s tiny heart had gone too fast and stopped.

That was how Eddie felt now, lying on the bathroom floor, the shower running in an attempt to drown out the sounds of the fireworks. He was curled up in a pile of blankets, listening to the fireworks whistle and bang outside. He was drenched in sweat, unsure if it was because of the stifling heat of the blankets or the terror that shot through him with every explosion.

The survivors of the Battle of Starcourt were all going to the ruins, as was their tradition. Last year Max had still been in the hospital, but the other kids had gone and they’d all gotten drunk for the first time, and cried, and played music. Now they were bringing Max with them. They’d invited Eddie, but he thought it was better for it to just be the original survivors.

Wayne was at the Mayfield place, helping Missus Mayfield through another anniversary of Billy’s death. Eddie had insisted that he go, promising that he’d be fine, and that he’d probably hang out with Gareth. Then the fireworks had started, and Eddie had realized that he couldn’t go anywhere.

The lab had assigned Eddie a therapist, who’d been helping him through panic attacks. She’d helped him design his “safe space”; a little room in his mind where he could retreat from the panic. It was similar to where Max had gone to escape from Vecna, but this wasn’t rooted in memory. This was pure fantasy. Eddie had always been better with fantasy. The therapist had been a little bit confused when he’d told her his safe space was the Shire, but she’d rolled with it.

Another firework went off, shaking his windows.

In a hole in the ground, there lived a Hobbit.

Eddie inhaled, then exhaled. He wished he still smoked.

Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a Hobbit hole, and that means comfort.

His phone rang, jolting him out of his meditation.

“Jesus!” He reached for the phone by his bed with shaking hands. “Hello?”

“Have you heard from Steve?”

“What? Is that Dustin?”

“Have. You. Heard. From. Steve.”

“No. Why?”

“He was supposed to be here. We’re with Max at the ruins. Steve was supposed to join us.”

“Have you tried calling him?”

Dustin didn’t dignify that with an answer, and Eddie could feel his disdainful look through the phone.

“Fine,” Eddie said. “I’ll swing by his place.”

“ Thank you.”

“Tell Max I’m taking her to the skate park tomorrow.”

Dustin had designed a set of trick wheels for Max’s chair, and she was learning how to do some skating moves with it.

“I will. Thanks. Call me at this number when you find him, okay?”

He gave Eddie the number, and Eddie scrawled it on the inside of his arm.

Now that Eddie had a mission, he felt slightly less insane. This was always the case. When he’d first moved in with Wayne at age ten, he’d been almost catatonically depressed. But when his uncle had asked him for help with something, he’d suddenly find himself doing it. Out of bed, at the store, making dinner. When he’d started high school he’d pretended that Hellfire was his way of welcoming the losers and outcasts, rather than trying to find friends himself. Helping himself had always seemed a bit pointless. Helping others was more worthwhile.

He pulled himself out of bed, taking his blankets with him. He’d go, but he wasn’t pretending to be okay. He was no hero. He still needed his blankie, and he wasn’t ashamed of that.

Steve lived nearby now, in the apartment building that had been built where the motel had once been. Steve and Wayne lived in the old Hopper trailer near the lake. In order to get to Steve’s house, though, Eddie would need to go past the fairground where the firework display was being set. There was no way in hell Eddie could do that drive without getting in an accident. He had to go the long way, around the cemetery and the high school. It took him twice as long, but the drive calmed him slightly. Clutch. Downshift. Break.

Then the sky turned red with the glow of fireworks, and Eddie instinctively hit the gas, nearly going off the road.

“Shit!”

He braked fast and rested his head against the steering wheel.

In a hole in the ground, there lived a Hobbit.

He inched forward the rest of the way to Steve’s apartment. By the time he parked, his hands were cramped from gripping the steering wheel and his jaw was aching from clenching his teeth.  

Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a Hobbit hole, and that means comfort.

He ran up to Steve’s apartment, his blankets dragging behind him like a cape. He could see that all the lights were on. He knocked on the door.

“Steve! Are you there?”

There was no answer, so he knocked louder.

“Steve, it’s Eddie! Open up!”

There was another crack of fireworks, and the sky glowed for a moment. Eddie shouldn’t have come. He should have called Joyce or Murray or anyone remotely capable of basic functioning.

It had a perfectly round door like a porthole, painted green, with a shiny yellow brass knob in the exact middle.

He pounded on the door with his fist.

“For fucks sake, just let me in before I shit myself!”

The door swung open and Eddie toppled in after it, landing solidly into Steve Harrington's chest.

“ Oonf !”

Steve’s warm hands gripped Eddie’s shoulders.

“What are you doing here?”

Steve’s voice was a hoarse croak. Eddie stepped back and looked at him. His face was red, and his eyes were swollen. His hair was plastered to his sweaty face.

“Oh my god, Steve, are you okay?”

Steve blinked at Eddie blearily. He shook his head, and Eddie was surprised to see his eyes filled with tears.

“Talk to me, big boy," Eddie said. "Are you sick?”

“No. I don’t… I don’t think so. Why are you here?”

“Dustin called. He’s worried about you.”

Another blast went off, and Steve jolted like he’d been shot.

“Let me call Dustin and tell him you’re not coming.”

“I’ll be there! I’m just— just running late.” Steve looked around frantically, like he was trying to find his bag. Eddie put a hand on Steve’s shoulder.

“Steve. We’re not going anywhere. Okay? We’re going to stay right here.”

Steve’s mouth crumpled, and he reached up to cover it with his hand.

“I’m sorry, I–”

“Alright, that’s it. Here we go.” Eddie gripped Steve by the shoulder and pulled him through the tiny apartment to the bathroom. Steve followed dazedly. “Have you eaten? Did you drink anything? Take anything?”

Steve shook his head, then nodded, then shook his head again.

“Had an ibuprofen for a headache. Had a beer. That’s all.”

“When did you last sleep?”

Steve thought about this.

“I don’t do that anymore.”

“Okay.” Eddie turned the shower on at full blast. Steve blinked up at him. “You don’t have to shower,” Eddie said, “But the noise will help. I’m going to call Dustin.”

Steve was still sitting on the bathroom floor when Eddie came back, holding a glass of water. Dustin had been understanding on the phone. They’d all had their bad spells.

Steve was curled up in a little ball, his arms wrapped tight around his legs. Eddie slid down beside him. They sat in silence and listened to the sound of the shower go. Finally Eddie took a deep breath.

“You wanna talk about it?” Eddie asked.

Steve sniffed and rubbed his nose on his arm.

“When Nancy dumped me, I said, ‘ I may be a pretty shitty boyfriend, but it turns out I’m a damn good babysitter.’ And for the past three years, that’s been sort of my mantra. At least I’m a good babysitter. That’s the one thing I’ve been able to do that’s worthwhile.”

Eddie wanted to argue this point, but he held his tongue.

“Turns out… I’m not good at this either,” Steve said.

“Not good at what?”

“I’m supposed to be the strong one. I’m supposed to take care of the kids. I should be there, helping. But instead…”

He flapped his hands helplessly at the floor, tears pouring down his cheeks.

“Oh, Stevie.” Eddie wrapped his arms around Steve’s shoulders and pulled him in. Steve slumped sideways, bonelessly. “Nobody can fix this. Nobody can.”

Steve collapsed in, folding himself against Eddie’s chest as he cried.

If someone had told Eddie two years ago that he’d be here with his arms around Steve Harrington, he’d have asked them what they were smoking. He’d wanted to touch Steve for so long. He felt drawn into Steve’s orbit like an asteroid. He had to admit that his fantasies had involved more passion and less panic attacks.

Steve cried noisily, his shoulders heaving with sobs. Eddie did the only thing he could think of. He started reciting The Hobbit.

“In a hole in the ground, there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a Hobbit hole, and that means comfort.”

Eddie recited as much as he could from memory, his hand on the warm planes of Steve’s shoulders. Slowly, Steve’s crying began to relax into gentle snuffling. Occasionally the sound of a firework outside would make them both jump, and Eddie’s voice would falter.

“The best rooms were all on the left hand side (going in), for these were the only ones to have windows, deep set round windows looking over his garden and meadows beyond, sloping down to the river.”

Steve took a deep breath, as if testing to see if his crying was truly finished. Eddie released his grip on Steve's back, allowing him to sit up. Steve yawned. His eyes were puffy from tears and sleeplessness.

“Better?” Eddie asked. Steve nodded, then shook his head.

“I should be with them.”

“No. No, you should be here.”

“The kids need me tonight.”

“Not as much as I do.” The words were out before Eddie could stop them. Shit. He could feel himself turning red. Steve stared at him through narrowed eyes.

“You know what I was doing before Dustin called?” Eddie asked. “I was on my bathroom floor, reading The Hobbit out loud to myself and trying not to absolutely lose it.”

Steve managed half a smile.

“Really?”

“Yeah. I imagine that fireworks would affect you more strongly, considering you were at the mall that night.”

Steve exhaled.

“I don’t see how the kids are so okay, and I’m such a mess.”

“Probably because they let other people help them. Unlike someone I know.”

Steve yawned again. Eddie smiled.  

“It’s hard feeling useless,” Steve said.

“I know. But you’ll never be…” Eddie paused to think, choosing his words carefully. “Steve. You are invaluable .”

Steve wrinkled his nose.

“Un-valuable?”

“Invaluable. It means always valuable.”

“That’s a stupid word.”

Eddie laughed.

“It is, isn’t it.” He fidgeted with his rings. “You are useful a lot of the time. But what I’m saying is that you don’t need a use to have a value.”

“Aren’t they the same thing?”

“A vacuum cleaner has value because it's useful. A song has value because it’s a song. And I’d rather live in a world without vacuum cleaners than a world without music.”

Steve thought about this, pursing his lips. Then he yawned.

“You tired?” Eddie asked.

Steve nodded, his chin sinking onto his chest as he did.

“Can’t sleep though.”

“I know. I try to sleep, and then…” Eddie gestured vaguely to his head.

“Yeah. It’s bad.”

Eddie stretched.

“My back hurts. You think we can move to the sofa without pissing ourselves in terror?”

Steve checked his watch.

“It’s nine thirty. Worst is probably over. I’ll put on music or something.”

They exited the bathroom like survivors leaving a fallout shelter, hunched and sweaty, trailing blankets. Steve turned on his tape player, and the soft sound of Avalon started playing. Eddie rolled his eyes.

“Avalon? Really?”

“Don’t fuck with me right now,” Steve said with a wobbly smile. “You want me to start crying again? Shut up.”

They collapsed onto the sofa, Eddie sitting with his legs curled under him, Steve sprawled out across the whole thing, his head thrown back. It was disgustingly hot inside, and smelled like rotting food, but a cool breeze was filtering in through the open door.

Eddie was so aware of Steve, sitting close enough for their shoulders and thighs to be touching. Steve blinked sleepily up at the ceiling.

“What were you reading earlier?” Steve asked.

“What? Oh. The Hobbit. My mom used to read it to me whenever I was sick.”

“Do you have the whole thing memorized?”

“No, just the first part. You know that therapist I’ve been seeing? Doctor Davis?”

“Yeah. I’ve been seeing her too.”

This was news to Eddie. Steve’s words were slightly slurred from fatigue, and Eddie wondered if Steve would have divulged this if he wasn’t so tired.

“She had me create a safe space. Mine is Bilbo Baggins’s house at Bag End. From the book.”

Steve’s eyes drifted shut and he slumped over sideways, his face against Eddie’s neck.

“She had me do the same,” he murmured.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. Make a safe space. Took me a long time, but I think—“ Steve yawned and curled into Eddie’s side. “Think I’ve got one.”

“What is it?”

Steve was already asleep, but he managed to mumble out the words.

“Mm. With you.”

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #LET STEVE CRY #steve x eddie #Joe Quinn #joe keery #ptsd #panic attack #safe space #fluff #hurt/comfort #fourth of july #stranger things

[arcticcanyons]

as much as it would kill me to see steve cry, i think he needs it. like he could use a good cry

#let steve cry #he's probably been bottling everything up since season 1 #he needs to let that shit out #steve harrington #stranger things #sad steve harrington

[rybonucleic-ket]

3am discoveries with ryan :D

if my antidepressants have numbed my emotions so much that I don't cry when a family member dies, all I gotta do is rewatch st4 finale on repeat and soon I'll be sobbing my eyes out :)))

fuck off, medication induced emotional apathy, I'll make myself cry. really gotta do everything myself around here goddamn.

realizing that making myself cry so I can feel like a normal person with emotions is definitely not a normal person with emotions thing to do.

#necromance eddie munson #byler endgame #max wake up #let steve cry #we need genuine reactions to eddie like dusty is not the only one #im cryign #there is something wrong with me #feelings please #duffers make it happen #sobbing screaming throwing up #the things i do to feel things #i am mentally unwell #it is 3am #anywyas

[toktopus-art]

haunted house time

#it's a meme redraw #stranger things #stranger things fanart #eddie munson #steve harrington #robin buckley #nancy wheeler #don't let eddie fool you he is internally screaming and crying

[its-djotime]

after having seen stranger things 3 AT LEAST three times, one scene that always hurts to watch is when Steve is getting tortured by the Russians bc it's played off as a comedic bit to I guess add some levity to what is obviously a dark subject matter but like

LOOK AT HOW SCARED HE IS.

I get it, sure. the "uss butterscotch" line is funny but I hate how it's used to completely breeze past what Steve is going through. we know that in season 3 Steve had just graduated so he couldn't be older than 18 and he's being BEATEN for information he doesn't have. you can see the pure fear in his eyes and it breaks my heart every time.

also crazy how this has just never been addressed since?????

#hopefully my point is coming across here #let steve harrington cry you cowards #can you guys tell i like steve harrington? #stranger things #steve harrington #joe keery #stranger things 3

[frankthesnek]

You know what low key makes me sad? The scene in Avengers when Fury finds Steve at the gym to recruit him.

Yeah yeah, Steve is glowing and sexy from working out, and his ass looks great in those sweats.... but think about that (not his ass the other thing). He's sweating. Like seriously sweating....

How long was he at the gym, by himself (having fucking flashbacks no less!) to have worked up that kind of a sweat? This is Captain America, its not easy to wind the guy but he is very clearly worn out and drenched here. The poor man has been all alone, taking out all his pent up painful memories and emotions on those bags for fucking hours probably. Then Fury just shows up to talk to him about the very thing he is having ptsd flashbacks about! Just uuuugh I hate it!

Steve I just want to hug you 🥺😭

#he needs a hug #like seriously #he had to have been there for a loooooong time before fury showed up #steve aint gonna get that sweaty and winded from a 30min work out session #he been solo runing his emotional struggle on those bags for a long fucking time #i want to hug him and cuddle him and let him cry #steve rogers #fandom thoughts

[stevesbipanic]

After all this it's surprising that Eddie is the one to see him like this.

Well, maybe not as surprising as it should be.

He thought it would be Robin though that would finally see him crack, to break down in tears and heartwrenching sobs. To see all the walls fall away until there's just him, just Steve.

Maybe that's why it's Eddie though, that the walls finally shatter for.

It would never be the kids, he's tried too hard and for too long to make sure that they never see him weak, always hiding it all behind a sniffle or going to the next room for a moment.

Not Nancy either, when they were together he was King Steve, all his secrets kept locked away in an empty house.

Jonathan, Joyce and Hopper while important to him are also relying on him to take care of the kids when they can't, they need him to be strong.

So yes, Eddie makes sense. Eddie he has never had any expectation of Steve to save him or look after him, first only seeing King Steve but then seeing the Steve that Dustin would rave about. Eddie, who he kept company and their matching wounds turned into matching scars. Eddie, who Steve saw show every emotion he felt, fear, joy, anger, love.

It didn't even take much in the end. They were just sharing a cigarette on Steve's back porch watching the stars. Their scars now the only reminder of what they'd been through. The kids were safe, everyone was finally safe.

Eddie hadn't even said anything.

He'd just looked at Steve. Smiled that soft almost smile and Steve knew, he was ok.

He could finally let go.

#stranger things #stranger things s4 #st4 #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things season 4 #steddie #steveddie #let steve cry #ficlet

[afewproblems]

Warm my Cold and Tired Heart (Part One)

Steve slowly walks around the cluttered and dirty boat house, armed with an oar and reflexes honed from years of basketball and baseball practice. He ignores the irritable scoffs and doubting gaze that Dustin keeps shooting him from the sidelines as he prods the lumpy tarps draped over the single boat. Dappled moonlight barely streams through grimey windows, while the smell of gasoline and mold stings sharply in his nose. Steve tamps down the urge to rub at his face, it's not a pleasant smell by any means but it's not the fetid stench of the Upside Down, this one still holds notes of the living rather than the decay of the Otherworld.

In his periphery Steve watches as Robin moves towards the table that Max is standing by, he can hear the crinkling of wrappers and soft words. He closes his eyes at the loud sigh that Dustin makes again, god help him the little shit can be incredibly irritating when he wants to be.

“Someone was here,” Max says, a hint of urgency to her words as she lifts up a candy wrapper to the light of her flashlight. 

“Maybe he heard us, got spooked and ran,” Robin whispers, glancing back towards the dark shadows curling around corners; Steve catches her eye and tries for a small smile - something to ease her anxiety, not that his is any better. The boat house is giving him the creeps.

“Don’t worry, Steve will get him with his oar,” Dustin snips, his voice pitched with sarcasm, Steve rolls his eyes and continues to prod the tarps, the oar in question jams into the boat roughly.

“I know you think you’re being funny Henderson,” Steve huffs as he lifts the oar away from the boat, “but considering the fact that everyone in this room has nearly died a hundred times, personally - I don’t find it very funny-”

A sudden movement, the rippling of the tarp, a gutteral roar from the dark sends the party into a frenzy, Steve rips away from the dark shape ambling towards him, he moves in front of Dustin - pushing the teen out of the line of fire, a small gasp of terror tumbles from his open mouth as the creature crashes into Steve.

“Wait, wait, wait, wait!” cries Steve as his body is forced back into the wall of the boat house, a beam from Dustin’s flashlight chaotically spins around him and the person --it's a person he realises, shoves him backwards. 

Steve’s back collides with the corrugated aluminum and his head follows, the crack of his skull reverberates around the room, clashing with the screams from Robin and Max.

It’s Eddie, Eddie holding him against the wall, one hand on the juncture of his shoulder and throat while the other presses the edge of what feels like broken glass to his adams apple. Steve swallows down a whimper and holds up his hands, raising his chin away from the weapon but the glass seems to follow him, Eddie’s hand steady and sure in his grip of Steve. He can vaguely hear Dustin screaming, but the sounds are murky, the ringing in Steve’s ears is loud and lingering.

“-ddie! Eddie! Eddie stop!”

Steve chances a glance to the side, Dustin stands there, trembling, with his arms stretched towards them, Robin and Max stop short behind him. Robin has her own oar in her hands, her knuckles white as she raises the wood up like a sword, a nearly feral look blooms over her face as she holds Steve's gaze. 

Dustin keeps an arm in front of Robin to halt her movement. Max stands frozen, her face twisted into a terrified grimace, the hand holding her flashlight trembles slightly but she manages to keep it fixed on the pair against the wall. 

“Eddie,” Dustin nearly wails, “It’s me, it's Dustin!”

Eddie’s hand moves from Steve's throat to wrap around his shirt, bunching the fabric between sweaty shaking fingers. Eddie raises his fist until it rests against the wall, effectively choking Steve with his own shirt collar. Steve can feel himself shaking as he tries to lift himself up by his tiptoes to lessen the pressure from the fabric on his throat. it wasn’t the first time he’d been threatened with a weapon or even by Eddie himself. 

***

It’s a house party - his own house party, 1984. Steve is moving from the kitchen out to the backyard, through the patio door and onto the cool concrete of the pool area. The yard is bathed in blue shimmering light from the water, steam rises in undulating tendrils as the sun begins to set. Steve suppresses a small wave of nausea at the sight, he hasn’t set foot in the pool since Barb went missing last year, since everything began.

Someone brought the boom box from the living room outside, a soft slow song serenades the yard as people mingle.

‘You say I'm a dreamer, we're two of a kind

Both of us searching for some perfect world we know we'll never find’

There is no one in the pool, about ten kids have crammed themselves into the bubbling hot tub but no one seems brave enough to test the larger swimming pool in the cool evening air. The threat of snow looms in the soft breeze that rolls over the yard. Steve shivers lightly.

It feels strange, for the world to continue on as though there weren’t literal monsters running around their small town just days ago. Steve swallows a grimace and turns away from the pool, he’s close enough to the sliding door that he can keep an ear out for trouble both in and outside his parents house. Last thing he needs is another broken vase or hole in the drywall to explain away to his father. 

It’s been a few days since the incident with Billy, since the night of the Demodogs, a few days since Nancy called him Bullshit, their relationship Bullshit. She’s right, about him. He had thought they were good though, good together - he was trying so hard. Steve brings a red plastic cup to his lips and grimaces when the alcohol burns at the still healing split lip, it's more than he normally drinks, but hey what are parties for? 

‘So perhaps I should leave here

Yeah, yeah, and go far away’

The sound of a body hitting the side of the house and scuffling footsteps in the gravel catch Steve’s attention, along with a few other people in the tub and lounging on the patio furniture, their heads turn towards the darkened corner between the house and the fence before turning away once more. The laughter and conversation continue on unimpeded. 

Steve sighs, his breath billowing away from him, he begins to move towards the source of the commotion. Breaking up a fight was not something he had been looking forward to, especially with the injuries he was currently sporting, but Steve wasn’t about to just let some other kid get their ass handed to them in his own backyard, not if he could help it. 

‘But you know that there's nowhere that I'd rather be than with you here today

Oh, whoa, oh, whoa’

Steve opens his mouth to yell at whoever is behind the house but the words die in his throat. 

He halts abruptly at what he sees, Eddie ‘the Freak’ Munson. 

Eddie Munson, bracketing another man between his arms against the glittery stucco of Steve’s parents house. The sounds of kissing, sloppy and wet, muffled moans disappearing beneath lips and teeth. A pair of hands disappear into Eddie’s curly locks as Eddie steps further into the other man. 

‘Hold me now, whoa

Warm my heart

Stay with me’

Steve steps back, his foot crunches into gravel and dead leaves, startling the pair apart. Steve opens his mouth again but nothing, his throat feels tight and his face grows warm as he looks from one man to the other, no one moves for a moment.

Eddie Munson stares at Steve, with puffy lips, flushed cheeks, and wild hair draped over his shoulders. Eddie Munson, who looks as though he wants to hightail it out of there but not before punching Steve’s lights out. 

The other man, Steve recognizes from school, James, he was a year younger than them but had also been on the swim team with Steve. He was a nice kid from what Steve knew, quiet, but smiley. Perfect white teeth and dimples he’d flash at every swim meet. He was good looking in a casual way, effortless. 

Like James didn’t have to try the way Steve did, the way Steve fixed his hair each morning for an hour straight, the way he chose his clothes - picking from fitted polos and jeans that hugged his ass in the way he knew looked good. James was popular and well liked, people just seemed to gravitate towards him. 

And Steve? 

Steve, whose girlfriend said he was Bullshit, whose former friends had abandoned him the moment he called them out on the cruel things they had done, that he had done, who had been dethroned by Billy Hargrove. 

Steve, who had noticed that girls were also pretty in an effortless way, the same effortless way that James was. 

Steve, who pushed down these thoughts any time they bubbled up to the surface.

James flushes red and tears away from Eddie, he stalks away from the two of them without a backwards glance and disappears into the house. 

Steve, turns back towards Munson and is quickly slammed into the side of the house that James had been tucked against mere moments before, an arm catches him across the throat.

“What are you doing here Harrington?” Eddie snarls in his face, “come to make fun of the freak?”

Steve shakes his head, “No-no, I just thought I heard a fight,” he stammers 

Eddie’s eyes trail over his face, his grin sharpens, “Thought that would be a good idea didja? Cuz King Steve does so well in fights?”

Steve flushes, painfully aware of the cuts littering his face from where Billy had recently smashed him over the head with a plate, “yeah well, I don’t appreciate one happening in my house”.

Eddie barks out a low laugh, “Apologies, my liege, I didn’t realise King Steve was such a champion for the little people.” The laugh is light but there’s a fire in Eddie’s dark eyes as he steps closer and looms over Steve, his arm pressing further into Steve’s throat making it difficult to breathe. 

“If you tell anyone about this, it won’t be a fight you’ll win. I’ll kill you”.

Then Eddie is gone, ripping away from him and moving towards the open back gate, he looks back at Steve once before running out of sight. 

Steve breathes deeply, clutching at his throat, his airway no longer impeded. He takes one, two, three deep breaths each harder than the last as his vision swims with tears. 

Why is he even crying, he lifts a shaking hand and scrubs his face roughly. Because popular, beautiful James, better than Steve could ever be, also liked men? 

Steve falls against the house and slides down the rough stucco, his thoughts racing and tumbling after one another. Thoughts that had remained buried for so long, locked into the farthest corners of his mind.

‘Hold me now, whoa

Warm my heart

Stay with me

Let loving start

Let loving start, whoa’

And Eddie, Eddie who thought Steve had been there to humiliate them, to raise the alarm.

Why was it so hard to breathe?

Steve knows how he used to be, how Tommy and Carol still are, what kind of town Hawkins is. How casually those words could be tossed around, how easy it had been for him to call Jonathan a ‘queer’ and pick a fight last year.

Steve shuts his eyes and lets his head fall against the wall, the sharp slide of stucco grounding as it pinches and scratches his scalp.

He sits outside, alone in the dark, and watches as the sun eventually begins to peek over the horizon. Until his breathing evens out.

***

“This is Steve, he’s not going to hurt you, right Steve”

“Right,” Steve whispers, not chancing a nod with the unrelenting pressure of the broken bottle at his throat, “yup, yup…”

Eddie scoffs, his eyes never leaving Steve’s face, “Yeah, we’ve met, Henderson”. 

“Steve, why don’t you drop the oar?” Dustin says, the even tone betrayed by the volume and speed with which he speaks. Steve swallows again, his heart races against his ribcage. Drop the oar? The only thing he has to defend himself, not that he really stands a chance at this point. Steve looks towards Dustin again and catches the way the kids eyes are shining in the low light. 

He’s terrified. 

Steve breathes in slowly, Dustin has seen him battered and bruised, drugged, and concussed on two separate occasions; he really doesn’t want a third. 

Steve breathes out and drops the oar, the sharp slap of wood against wood seems to startle everyone, including Eddie who presses even further into Steve with his body and the bottle. Steve flinches and cries out as the glass manages to dig sharply into the delicate skin across his windpipe. Dustin, Robin, and Max all cry out in alarm.

Dustin’s voice carries out across the boathouse, “He’s cool, he’s cool!”

“I’m cool man, I’m cool,” Steve echoes staring at Eddie, he can feel tears gathering at his lashline from the pain and terror, “I’m cool,” the last syllable comes out as a whine.

“What are you doing here,” Eddie murmurs, his eyes locked on Steve’s own, his face blank betraying nothing, he’s still pressing into Steve just as he had years ago on that cold November night. 

“We were looking for you,” Dustin yells, his voice cracks, he sounds so young. 

Robin moves closer to him, her hands come up to grasp Dustin’s shoulders as she steers him away and eventually behind her, Max follows letting Robin lead.

“We’re here to help,” Robin says, her voice wavers just slightly.

“Eddie,” Dustin croaks, “they’re my friends, you know Robin --from band!”

Robin noodles a nervous tune into an imaginary trumpet, her hands shake and her eyes dart across Eddie’s face. 

Dustin then pivots to Max, grasping her by the shoulders, “and this is my friend Max, the one who never wants to play D&D”. 

Max raises her arm, gesturing towards herself in a parody of a wave.

“Eddie,” Dustin says softly, pleadingly, “we’re on your side, I swear on my mother, right guys?”

A chorus of yes's explode beside Dustin while Steve mumbles out a hurried, “Yep, on Dustin's mother”.

Eddie's impassive face twitches, Steve’s eyes flutter as the grip on his shirt collar loosens slightly but the press of the bottle remains constant, he thinks back to that threat, that Eddie would kill him without a thought.

“I never said anything, I promise you, I promise,” Steve whispers softly; he can see Dustin in his peripheral, craning his neck to try and listen in, “I promise, please…”

Eddie twitches again, his chin wobbles slightly as he releases Steve and steps back, dropping the bottle which bounces once and rolls into the darkness. 

Steve lets out a long slow breath as he doubles over, one hand comes up to his throat while the other lands on his knee to stop from collapsing altogether. Robin rushes to Steve’s side, her hands move towards him but not before halting with a jerk. 

“Steve, Steve can I touch you?” she whispers softly. 

Steve raises his face to see her, to catch her worried gaze and meet it with his own glazed stare, he nods once. 

“I need to talk to you,” he manages, the words almost catch in his throat. He vaguely registers Dustin speaking to Eddie in low tones, Max hovers beside them worriedly looking between Steve and Dustin.

“What?” Robin laughs out, nervous and stuttering, she reaches out and wraps an arm around his shoulder while her other hand clasps around the hand braced on his knee, “I think maybe we have a few more important things that we need to discuss at the moment”.

“Robin…please,” he grates out, the words are soft but something about the way he shudders seems to help her come to a decision.  

She nods, and helps him stand fully, her arm travels down from his shoulders to his waist, Steve leans into her warmth and breathes in the soft scent of lavender Robin always wears. It's comforting. 

“I’m just going to take Steve to the house, get cleaned up yeah,” Robin calls out brusquely before turning on her heel and leading them to the door. Dustin yells something behind them and moves to leave the boathouse but Max catches him by the arm.

Steve’s stomach churns at the thought of leaving two of his sprogs with an alleged murderer, a drug dealer who literally threatened Steve with death twice now, but Robin’s purposeful steps carry him forward, his body operating on autopilot.

Once inside Reefer Rick’s decrepit house, Robin deposits him on the nearest chair in the kitchen. 

“Okay? Spill dingus”.

Steve sighs, “Robin…do you remember when we escaped the Russians?” she nods sharply, face twists into a confused scowl, “and you told me about Tammy Thompson”.

Robin lifts her hands and swings them out, gesturing for him to continue, “so, what, you gonna confess your undying love for me again Harrington?” Robin grumbles at him, her blue eyes trace over his face as though scanning him for additional information.

“I…I never told you, I’ve never told anyone this,” his thoughts drift back to that cool November evening with music and laughter. 

“Robin, how did you know that…you liked girls?”

She’s silent for a moment, her mouth opening and closing before taking a deep breath and letting it out through her nose, “Steve, are you trying to tell me what I think you’re trying to tell me?”

“I don’t know,” he murmurs, folding his face into his hands, “I-I do like girls, I dated Nancy for almost a year for crying out loud, but…”

“But,” Robin prompts softly

Steve is silent for a moment, before dropping one hand from his face to his knee, the other hand slides into his hair and grips the strands tightly in a painful white-knuckle grip, “but, I do…I mean, I notice things about other guys”. 

Robin nods. She isn’t laughing, she isn’t sneering at him, he’s safe. 

“Steve,” she says slowly after a beat, carefully, “You do know that, it's okay to like both?”

He stares at her, all at once it's as though the oxygen has been sucked out of the room.

“Steve, it's okay, I think you need to breathe, come on breathe, Steve!” she shakes his shoulder a little as he gasps, gulping down breaths like a drowning man. 

“I’m okay,” he laughs out eventually, his voice slightly wet, if Robin notices she doesn’t say anything. 

Steve breathes in deeply and raises his eyes to her own, they’re shining in the low light of Reefer Ricks shitty kitchen, “do you still…”

She flings out a hand to catch him in the shoulder, “of course I still love you, you’re my platonic soul-mate, how could you even think that? Plus it would be pretty hypocritical”.

Steve laughs, “Didn’t even let me finish Buckley,” he stands up from the chair which creaks and groans at the movement. Stepping towards her, he draws Robin into his arms, the barest of smiles crawls over Steve’s face as her own arms come around him tightly, “maybe I was going to say, do you still think I suck?”

Robin snorts, and pinches his side harshly earning a surprised yelp from Steve, “Oh you definitely do, but not for this”. She steps away after one last squeeze and a final jab to his armpit that startles a squawk from him, he half-heartedly bats at her hands with a laugh.

“I’m glad you told me but, what brought this on?” 

The small smile on Steve’s face slips as his gaze lowers to his muddy shoes, he’ll have to hose them off before he gets home, the murmured threat loops around his head on repeat in Eddie’s gravelly voice. 

“Nothing, I just,” he looks up and meets her eyes, “if anything happens to me, I don’t think I could stand knowing I hadn’t told someone, and I’m glad it was you” 

“You sappy asshole,” Robin whispers as she launches herself towards him once more, he catches her easily, “you picked a hell of a time, but I’m proud of you”. 

Steve holds her tightly, letting himself bask in her warmth for just a moment. Though there were times where he wished they could have been more, Steve is thankful to have her in his life in whatever capacity she is comfortable with. 

In his opinion, the title of ‘Platonic Soulmate’ is more than he deserves, but he’ll take it and be grateful for it.

Three successive knocks rail against the door of the kitchen they have sequestered themselves in, Dustin’s muffled voice permeates through the thin glass window, “hey Lovebirds, are you done in there? Move your asses!” 

“Language” Steve shouts at the same time Robin screams, “Fuck off!”

***

It’s all downhill from there as they manage to pass through into the Upside Down. How quickly things deteriorate sets a new record in Steve’s opinion, he’s missing a significant amount of flesh and blood, he’s tired, sore, and dirty. This Upside Down bullshit is becoming a yearly occurrence and he still never feels prepared for it, for the violence and danger that Hawkins has become stepped in. 

The wounds on Steve’s sides throb in time with his pulse now, aggravated from so much movement, he feels hot despite the absence of warmth in this place. The bandages have helped with the sharp sting but not the dull ache inside his torso, he didn’t see how deep the bats had managed to burrow their way into his skin, he's not sure he wants to.

The red lightning flashes don’t seem to permeate the woods they’re travelling through, he can barely make out Nancy, Robin, and Eddie as they make their way through the trees in the grey twilight. 

Steve clears his throat and jogs closer towards Eddie, “hey man, uh, listen, I just uh, I just want to say thanks”. 

Eddie pauses his stride and stares at him.

“For,” Steve stutters, “saving my ass back there, you know,” he shifts on his feet suddenly wishing that vine would come back to claim him before he could say anything else. 

“Shit,” Eddie scoffs, shaking his head, “you saved your own ass man, I mean that was a real Ozzy move you pulled back there”.

“Ozzy?”

Eddie’s head tilts to the side, expression incredulous, “you know, when you took a bite out of that bat…Ozzy Osborn? Black Sabbath? He bit a bat’s head off on stage”.

Steve grimaces, the taste of blood and viscera still clings to his mouth, his tongue, “I don’t--”

“You know?”

“No,” Steve looks away into the trees, he’s not sure who this Ozzy person is, Steve hates not knowing things. 

Eddie scowls, but waves his hand down, “doesn’t matter, it was very,” he pauses and sweeps in front of Steve’s line of sight, “metal what you did, s’all I’m saying”.

“Thanks…” Steve says, trying to ignore the pleased grin Eddie shoots him, complete with dimples. Steve feels his face grow warm as he scans the treeline with his flashlight. 

Remember, he thinks to himself, this man hates you, has threatened you twice now. What do you care if he likes you? The voice sounds eerily like Robin, logical and irritated, he shakes his head slightly as though to dislodge it.

It’s quiet, the only sound is the rustling of dead leaves under their feet. The absence of crickets and cicadas, of owls, or even rodents in the brush is unsettling, the absence of life in the dark.

“Henderson told me you were a badass,” Eddie startles him, reaching out to prod Steve’s bicep with a rigid pointer finger, “insisted on the matter in fact”. 

“Henderson said that?” Steve whispers, surprise colouring his words. The light flush over his cheeks and ears spreads even further, though it's nearly impossible to distinguish in the lowlight.  Steve tamps down the urge to smile at that, biting down on the inside of his cheek, he can feel eyes on him as he steps over a particularly large fallen log and nearly trips on a hidden root. His arms flail out with the effort to remain upright, some badass he curses himself. 

A hand falls on the small of his back, steadies him. Eddie is close, very close all of a sudden, leaning over him. 

“Oh yeah,” Eddie huffs,“that kid worships you dude, like you have no idea, it's kind of annoying to be honest.”

Steve barks out a laugh, wincing at the echo that reverberates around them. Something snaps and skitters in the rotten undergrowth, Steve whirls around with the flashlight towards the source of the noise. 

Eddie stands frozen beside him, neither move for what feels like an eternity. The movement is gone, but the thundering of Steve’s heart against his ribcage beats a striking staccato, he can scarcely hear himself breathe.

“I-I don’t even know why I care what that little shrimp thinks, but uh I guess I got a little jealous, man. I guess I couldn’t accept the fact that Steve Harrington was actually a good dude.”

Eddie continues on, “Rich parents, popular, chicks love him, not a douche? No way man, no way, that like, flies in the face of all the laws in the universe…and my own personal Munson doctrine”

Steve glares into the darkness beyond the trees, of course Eddie would think that, it wasn’t as though he had done anything to disprove it back in his highschool days - the persona had been heavily encouraged in fact by himself and his friends. 

“I mean, I was definitely surprised after that party I crashed many moons ago, that come morning the whole town didn’t know about my little…indiscretion”.

Steve stops, nearly flinging himself back and away from Eddie, “I swear, I never told anyone, I swear--”

“Harrington, calm down, I know, that's what I’m saying,” Eddie says slowly, his voice lowered as he looks ahead towards Nancy and Robin. 

“I wouldn’t,” Steve swallows, resists the urge to breathe the toxic air too deeply, “I wouldn’t do that”.

Eddie raises an eyebrow as the corner of his lip turns up revealing the hint of canines, “Well, colour me surprised at any rate,” he turns and starts walking again, “I figured you just forgot or something,”

“I wouldn’t have forgotten something like that,” Steve mutters before he his brain seems to catch up to his mouth, “I-I mean, I just,”

“Re-lax Harrington, what is with you?”

“I…,” Steve’s legs are frozen, as though he’s been glued to the forest floor, as though the vines have crept over him once again to keep him there forever, “I want you to know, I wouldn’t just do that”.

Eddie’s eyebrows raise, cutting creases across his forehead in deep grooves underneath his curly mop.

“It wasn’t my secret to tell and,” Steve swallows thickly, his throat dry, “I’m not that kind of guy anymore…”

Eddie stares at him, his face shifts back into that passive neutral gaze that Steve is beginning to dread. 

“Yeah,” Eddie says after a moment, “I think I’m getting that.” He stands for a moment longer, his eyes roaming Steve’s face in the same way Robin’s does when she’s trying to analyse him. It’s decidedly more stressful coming from Eddie.

“Come on,” Eddie murmurs, clapping Steve’s shoulder, “we need to catch up”. He gestures to Robin and Nancy who have stopped just ahead of them, Nancy has her hands on her hips - the picture of impatience. Eddie grins at him before slowly jogging towards the girls, leaving Steve alone with his thoughts.

Steve catches Robin’s eyes, her head is cocked to the side, staring at the pair of them as Eddie comes closer and closer towards herself and Nancy, her expression is wary but curious. 

Steve sighs and shakes his head, imploring her to understand, ‘I’ll tell you later’.

By some miracle she does, answering him with a shake of her own that says, ‘You better dingus’.

***

It’s over. Vecna is finally dead.

Steve curls an arm around Robin’s shoulders as they stumble out of the Creel house with Nancy in tow. They stand around the burning corpse that had once been Henry Creel, white cinders spit and cascade into the dirt at their feet; after everything they’ve gone through, it feels like they can finally breathe again. 

Steve watches as Nancy steps past the body leaving him and Robin beside the dying embers, squinting through the black smoke that emanates in a putrid cloud.

“Steve! Robin, come on, we have a plan!” Nancy barks sharply over her shoulder, she continues walking with sure strides away from the nightmare behind them. 

Robin rolls her eyes, “Does she ever chill?”

A nervous laugh tumbles out of Steve’s mouth before he can stop it, laughter felt almost wrong in this place, even now, “You don’t know Nancy Wheeler,” he says softly with a shake of his head. He tightens his grip on Robin’s shoulders and pulls her away from the corpse on the ground. 

“Yeah, no shit,” Robin scoffs, “who’d’ve thought Miss Nancy Drew would turn out to be John Rambo in disguise”.

A small lopsided grin spreads over Steve’s face as they make their way from the house and down the road where Nancy has stopped just ahead, but Robin suddenly freezes and tugs at his shoulder. 

“Steve is that…”

He stops, there is crying coming from just ahead of them, the sound reverberates down the empty street.

“Steve!? Robin!”

Nancy’s voice cuts through the air, an urgency he hasn’t heard since the day Steve found her and Jonathan with bloody palms and a pistol in the Buyers old house, gooseflesh breaks out over his arms at the sound. 

Steve steps towards Nancy, the sound of crying grows louder, clearer, he knows that voice…

He runs now, cursing the flimsy Nikes he’d worn a thousand times, the splitting soles never a problem before, nearly causing him to tumble into the cracked pavement. He can hear Robin take off, hot on his heels behind him.

It’s Dustin. Dustin screaming Eddie’s name. 

Steve skids to a sudden halt at the scene in front of them, his throat constricts at the sight of Dustin cradling Eddie’s head in his lap, the other’s large brown eyes are open but unfocused, the lids at half mast. His face is smeared with blood. 

Steve vaguely registers Nancy speaking, something about no pulse, a question about how long he’s been like this. Everything is muffled, its as though he’s underwater again, being pulled down by a twisted vine into Hell a second time. 

There’s so much blood, it clings to the air around them making Steve’s stomach roll and twist.

“Steve,” Nancy says fiercely, her voice cracked and scraped with stress, “Steve are you listening?”

Steve nods and steels himself, brusquely pushing past Nancy and Robin. 

He knew what to do.

He'd learned CPR during his Lifeguard days, it had been mandatory - and a no brainer the summer of 82, especially when a simple two day course allowed him the luxury of lounging around in the sun, rising with the social tide around him in his ‘King-Steve’ hey-day.

He shakes his head abruptly to toss the memory aside, focus dip-shit, his inner Robin snarls. 

“Dustin, give him here,” Steve says, voice smooth and cool, belying the nervous tremor that runs through his hands as he kneels beside his young friend. 

“No, what, what are you going to do?” Dustin whimpers as tears run freely down his cheeks, he clutches Eddie’s shoulders and face, twisting away from Steve with a wild look in his blue eyes.

Steve raises his hands, palms up, and leans back, allowing him space, “Dustin,” he repeats firmly, “I can help, but I need you to trust me, can you do that ? There isn’t a lot of time.”

Robin, seeming to understand, steps forward as well and kneels down to Dustin’s eye level, “I’ll help get him on the ground, Dustin just give him to us,” she reaches for Eddie’s bloody shoulder, only for the body to jerk away from her fingertips. 

“No!” Dustin shouts, the sound spills wetly from his lips as he bites back another sob, “no, I c-can’t,”

Steve opens his mouth to say something, his patience nearly at its end when Nancy suddenly stands to her full height, which isn’t admittedly much, and squares her shoulders. She steps into Dustin’s space, shushing him as she pulls Dustin’s arms away from Eddie’s still form, allowing for Robin and Steve to manoeuvre Eddie to the ground. 

Dustin’s yelling and cursing melts into the background as Steve hunches just above Eddie's face and places a hand on his chest before moving his hand to the pulse point on his bloody neck.

Not breathing and no pulse, okay…okay…he knew this, he could do this. 

Steve sits back up on his knees and places both hands on Eddie's chest, one on top of the other. He laces his fingers together and begins to press sharply down, keeping his arms steady and his hands directly below his shoulders. 

Steve begins counting, just under his breath, out of the corner of his eye he see’s Robin lift her watch to her eye-line. Good, someone should be keeping time --not that anyone was on their way to help them at this point…

Thirty compressions fly by, he quickly pinches Eddie’s nose and holds his chin still before bending down to press his chapped lips to Eddies. He blows two steady breaths into the other man's mouth before sitting up and continuing the process over once again.

“How long?” Robin asks faintly beside him, her eyes flick between her watch and Eddie’s face.

“Two minutes,” he breathes out in between counts. 

Dustin has stopped crying, allowing for Nancy to steer him to the side to let Steve work. 

Dustin limps as they move as a unit, unable to put his full weight on his left leg. Sporadic sniffling cuts through the sounds of Steve’s counting and the rhythmic pace of his compressions.

A thin bead of sweat rolls down his temple as he bends down to breath for Eddie, “Come on, come on Munson,” Steve whispers. 

He loses track of his breaths; has it been 10 sets? 13?

He feels lightheaded, his arms ache, but he has to keep going.

Robin shifts beside him, “Steve, Steve, come on, you’re going to make yourself pass out--”

“No,” Steve hisses sharply as he sits up once more, “not another one, I swear to God Munson if you die on me I’m going to kill you myself!”

Something cracks below him, Steve flinches at the sound of shifting bone, oh god, oh god, his class had been warned that this could happen, the pressure and the depth of the compressions could cause ribs to break. 

“Steve?! What the fuck?!” Robin screeches as Dustin shoots to his feet at the sound and immediately crumples with a pained yelp. Nancy swoops an arm behind the younger boy, catching him before he can fully hit the ground. Dustin tries to limp towards Steve and Eddie, the curses and yelling renew themselves with interest, but Nancy’s arms hold firm around him.

“I’m sorry,” Steve whispers, horrified, “Fuck, I--”

A small groan startles the four of them into silence. Eddie groans again while his eyes flutter slightly. 

“Oh thank Christ,” Steve says, his arms burn from the exertion, his muscles twitch from phantom motion, but that does nothing to stop him from swiftly gathering Eddie into his arms and standing. The twin wounds on his sides throb in time with his heartbeat underneath his bandages, everything feels warm and wet underneath his gear, but he can’t tell if it's sweat or if he’s bleeding again.

 “This isn’t ideal, but we need to keep him stable and get him to a hospital,” Steve manages through a groan, he shifts Eddie in his arms to adjust the weight briefly, “Nance, lead the way.”

Nancy nods and turns away before heading down the road towards the open gate waiting for them. Dustin takes the opportunity to break free from her grasp and hobbles towards Steve, fresh tear tracks cut paths through the dirt smeared over his cheeks. 

Robin steps in front of him with her arms out, “Woah boy, steady, let’s just get to the gate. Gate then hospital, doofus,” she says with uncharacteristic softness. 

Dustin shakes his head wildly and attempts to step around her, but Robin holds her ground and catches his shoulders, forcing him to look at her.

“Now, Dustin, move it or lose it,” she growls, gently spinning him around and forcing him to follow Nancy as she loops a steady arm around his back to keep him steady. Dustin’s expression is mutinous but he says nothing; fatigue begins to win its battle with the adrenaline coursing through their collective veins. 

Robin looks back at Steve, eyebrows pinched together as she scans his face. 

He nods through the silent conversation.

“Later, Rob,”

“I’ll hold you to that Asshole.”

They don’t talk later.

(Will be posting this in parts, let me know if you enjoyed chapter one!)

Part Two Up Now!

Part Three Up Now!

#stranger things s4 #stranger things au #steve harrington #edward munson #robin buckley #stranger things season 4 rewrite #eddie munson lives #hurt steve harrington #bisexual steve harrington #robin buckley is a good friend #platonic soulmates #stobin friendship #steve harrington has trauma #let steve cry #this thing is a beast and its finally finished! #going to be posting it in pieces here and on ao3 #afewproblems writes #stranger things fanfiction

[strawberryspence]

They both have different stories when asked, “When did you first meet?”

Steve says it was in school, along the hallways with freshman Steve Harrington and sophomore Eddie Munson locking eyes for the first time. Eddie says it was in a party, drinking beer and selling drugs, a transaction.

Wayne Munson knows the truth. The truth that way before monsters, way before creatures from games came true, way before the end of the world, way before everything, that Eddie and Steve have already met.

Wayne remembers that day so clearly. A social worker coming to his work in the middle of the day looking for him. Something about Wayne being the closest relative, about his brother going to jail and his mother running away.

Eddie's been living alone for two weeks. Two weeks. Cooking and cleaning for himself, the only reason it got suspicious is because he didn't go to school and one of his teachers called home.

He watches as Eddie swings himself at the empty playground. He brought Eddie here because— where do you bring children? Playgrounds are perfect right? He doesn't have the slightest idea as to what he's doing.

Sometimes in the morning, Wayne doesn't even have clothes to wear because he forgot to do the laundry. It's the same reason he doesn't have a wife and children. If he can't take care of himself, how could he take care of a whole other human being?

Out of nowhere, there's a kid running to the playground. Stopping just in front of Eddie and introducing himself with a bright smile.

His nephew stares at the boy for a few seconds before answering, "Hi, I am Eddie."

Wayne listens to them chatter for a few more minutes, before the boy asks if Eddie wants to be pushed.

Eddie's still giving the other boy a look of disbelief, before he finally says yes.

The boy's guardian sits beside Wayne. She looks better off, with an expensive looking coat and purse. But there's a warm, comforting smile on her face.

She turns to Wayne, “Is that your son?”

Wayne turns to her, pursing his lips, “I— Yes— No— It’s complicated.” He sighs. He doesn't even know what Eddie is to him now. “He’s my nephew. I just got custody of him today.”

“Oh.” The woman breathes out. Wayne turns back to the kids, Eddie's laughing now and it's music to his ears.

Wayne spills his heart to the random stranger, some part of his heart knowing that it will be safe with her.

“I don’t know what I am doing. I can barely take care of myself, let alone a child.” Wayne starts, “But he’s never got a good home and I want to give that to him.”

She smiles at him, "Just the fact that you want to give him a good home is telling me that you’ll be just fine. Don’t overthink it, life’s too short for that.”

It hits Wayne straight to his chest. He still doesn't know what exactly to do, but he feels better knowing that he has a chance to give Eddie the home he deserves.

“Thank you.” Wayne says, smiling at the woman as they watch the kids giggle and play.

“Steve’s your boy?” Wayne asks.

She beams back at him, answering without missing a beat, “Yeah, he’s my boy. Not my son, just my nephew. But I love him like he’s mine.”

Oh. Well, isn't that just perfect? Wayne softens and thinks— huh— she does understand.

When the time comes, Wayne watches as Eddie says a tearful goodbye with the other boy. There's daisies in his hair, like it grows right with his hair and Eddie has one tucked between his ears. It's intimate, the picture perfect to describe puppy love.

Eddie stands and waves at the boy's moving car, until he can't even see it anymore. And then, Eddie looks at him, "Where do I go now?"

Wayne stoops on his knees to see him eye to eye, "You're coming home with me. But before that we're gonna go get some milkshakes, does that sound good with you, Ed?"

Eddie looks at him curiously, brown eyes staring at him, "Do you have money for that?"

It floors Wayne, how grown up this child is. Eddie deserves to know nothing about this. In his age, he should be thinking about playing and making friends and being a child. No, Eddie is concerned if Wayne has enough money for a fucking milkshake.

"Of course, I have money for that, Ed!" Wayne laughs, patting his head. He stands, hoping it'll hide the pain in his eyes.

"Okay." Eddie answers. Wayne offers his hand for him to take, Eddie stares at it.

"Let's go?" Wayne asks, and Eddie nods, finally taking his hand, "Let's go."

From that day on, Wayne swears to protect Eddie, give him the home he deserves. He changes his shift to the evening one so he can stay home with him, gave him his room so he can have the privacy he deserves. Wayne loves Eddie like he's his own.

Even when Eddie finally comes out, that love didn't falter, "Hey, Wayne?"

Wayne turns to him. Eddie's bigger now, curly hair growing into longer wisps. He's wearing a vest with patches, they sewed it together months ago. "Yeah?"

"Remember that boy? In the playground with daisies in his hair? The day you took me home?" Wayne hums, nodding.

Eddie stares at him, arms crossed like a shield, "Yeah, he was my first love."

Wayne blinks at him.

"And I think— well— I know. I am gay."

Wayne nods, "Alright."

He turns to turn off the stove. Sits down and talks to Eddie, makes sure he knows that he can't be out because it's too dangerous, makes sure he knows that there's nothing wrong with loving another man.

And at the end of the night, Wayne tucks him in, just before he goes to work, kisses his forehead and says him, "I love you, Ed. Nothing will ever change that."

-

It's not until years later that he sees the boy from the playground again. Wayne's pretty sure he saw him in a few of the local papers, but he wasn't really sure, the pictures are too blurry, too small.

But this— this is the clearest picture Wayne has ever seen and he's damn sure that the boy sleeping beside Eddie's hospital bed is the boy with the daisies.

Wayne coughs, and the boy immediately springs back to life. It's odd. It's the same boy, only older. But there's so much weariness in his eyes, the same look Wayne has seen on war veterans. He still has brown hair, smooth and golden.

Eddie wakes up right after him, eyes bleary, with a small smile as soon as he sees him, "Uncle Wayne. I love you."

It's the first thing Eddie's said to him after a week of missing. Wayne chokes with tears. He moves closer to hug Eddie, tears in his eyes.

There was a time that he thought he'd never be able to do this again, that this was the end. Wayne was ready to burn this whole town, the whole world even, for whatever they've been doing to his pure, innocent nephew.

But he's here, alive and awake in front of Wayne and he thinks he can finally, finally breathe again.

"Never do that to me again, Ed. Never."

Eddie chuckles, "Alright. I promise."

"I love you too, okay?" Eddie nods.

They separate and for a few solid seconds, they all just stare at each other before Eddie speaks again, "Oh, uhm, Uncle Wayne, this is Steve. Steve, this is my Uncle Wayne."

Steve immediately stands up, shaking his hand earnestly. Wayne stares at Eddie, waits for any indication that he knows, remembers that this boy was his first love.

Nothing.

Nada.

After breaking every NDA he signed and telling Wayne every little tidbit of his crazy week, Eddie finally falls asleep again with the help of a handful of drugs.

Wayne takes his chance, just before Steve goes to go and check on their other friend, the Mayfield kid.

"Hey, kid?" Steve stops on his tracks, before facing him.

"Sir?"

Wayne scoffs, "None of that Sir stuff. Wayne would do. I just have a question."

"What is it, si— Wayne?" Steve blinks at him, lips pursing at the obvious mistake.

"Do you have an aunt?" Steve looks visibly taken back, eyes widening.

"Yes. I have." He blanches, "I did."

Oh. Oh, no.

"You did?" Wayne asks; he knows what the answer is but he still wants to know what happened to that woman from the playground that day. The same one that he still thinks of when he has a tough time.

Wayne has always thought that they'll meet again someday, that he'll get to thank her for that one conversation. He missed his chance.

"She died when I was a kid. Cancer." Steve answers, his voice quivering for a split second, "Why do you ask? Did you know her?"

Wayne shakes his head, "No. I don't think so. You just reminded me of someone, and guess I got it wrong."

Steve nods his head, accepting his answer wholeheartedly, "Goodnight, Wayne."

And Wayne watches, as the door closes shut behind Steve, "Goodnight, daisy boy."

-

Steve and Eddie, Wayne thinks, are utter idiots.

First, they dance together for ages before they finally get their act together and date. Wayne might've as well held a white poster paper with "KISS" written on it behind them.

Second, they fight over when they first meet and none of them are even right. Wayne is exhausted, listening to them argue about it day and night.

Third, they're blind. Literally blind.

The day of their wedding, Wayne hoped that the two boys would finally realize that they've met that day on the park. He asked that nice girl, Nancy, to pick some daisies and to put it on Steve's hair for the ceremony. While, Wayne went out to pick one to tuck behind Eddie's ear.

As Wayne watched as the two boys proclaim their love for each other in front of their family, with daisies tucked in their hairs just like the day they first met; he's overcome with the feeling of joy and happiness over the fact that the two boys still found each other even after everything.

It's ridiculous watching them not recognize each other, so Wayne finally decided to end their (his) misery.

Eddie clinks a glass with a fork, "Uncle Wayne! Speech!" There's a flurry of clinking before Wayne finally stands up.

"Alright, alright. I'll do it." They laugh, putting down their glasses.

It's a small backyard wedding. The Hopper-Byers has decked the yard with bright lights that brightened the whole night. In the middle, there's one long table to fit all of them. On the end of the table, side-by-side, is Eddie and Steve.

"Alright, I have a confession to make." Everyone straightens up in anticipation.

"I know it's been a running debate between Steve and Eddie, as to who's right about where and when they first met." Wayne can hear Eddie saying, "It's me obviously!"

"Settle down, boy." Wayne says, making them laugh.

"The truth is they're both wrong. You both have been very blind to the truth." Eddie makes an appalled noise as Steve laughs.

"The truth is I know when they first met." Eddie squints at him, confused. Steve whispers something to his ear that Eddie answers with a shrug.

"Steve and Eddie first met as kids. It was the same day I got custody of Eddie. I bought him to the park after that, let him play, you know? Out of no where, this kid—" Wayne chuckles.

"This kid comes up to Eddie, introduces himself and asks if Eddie wants to be pushed. His aunt— his aunt was very kind to me even though I was a complete stranger spilling my guts out to her."

"When it was time to leave, Eddie says goodbye to this kid, and it was so intimate. I remember thinking it was the perfect picture for puppy love. The boy goes home with daisies tucked in his hair, while Eddie goes home with one in his ear."

"It's not until years later, when Eddie came out to me that he tells me that the same boy with the daisies was his first love. And it's not until a few more years later after that, when I first meet the daisy boy again, sleeping beside Eddie's bed in the hospital."

Wayne turns to Steve and Eddie, there's pure surprise in their faces as they watch and listen to Wayne's speech.

"I could never really forget about that day and that boy. The way he made my nephew happy on one of the worst days of his lives. And now, he gets to make Eddie happy for the rest of their lives." Wayne sniffs, hiding it with a fake cough.

"Love is iffy." Wayne says, causing everyone to chuckle, "But what you guys have? It's been set into stone way before you knew each other. That's as true as love can ever be and I hope you nurture and care for it for the rest of your lives."

There's no dry eye in the yard. Wayne's heart is full and content, because he's sure that his son will be happy and taken care for, for the rest of their lives.

Wayne raises his glass,

"A toast to the daisy boys."

-

→ Annalyn's POV | BONUS

(thank you for the overwhelming love for Annalyn's POV! i am so glad y'all liked it. 💗)

TAGS: @7-starboi @emly03 @a-new-kind-of-blue @leather-and-freckles @tiny-enthusiast @cherrycolas-things @the-redthread @lady-silkwing @ancielsol @sunshine1066 @lifeisnotsobadonceyoustopcaring @makewavesandwar @hunterbow04 @resident-gay-bitch @swimmingbirdrunningrock @bidisastersworld

#let me cry #i love wayne so much #uncle wayne supremacy #FOREVER #dae writes #daeheadcanons #steddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steddie headcanon #steddie ficlet #steddie fic #steddie fluff #steddie fanfic

[its-steddie-time]

The day Steve finally breaks down is a day like any other.

It hits him in a strange way—deep inside his body, embedded. Like it’s always been there. He’s tired of running the race, legs finally ready to give out. Sadness wraps around him like a hug—it blankets him, presses into the smallest crevices, makes wounds and licks at them, uncovers the hurt below the surface.

It’s a normal day.

But he drops a glass while doing the dishes. He drops a glass, shattered pieces all over the floor, tiny shards. Clear and sharp, like a truth finally realized. It isn’t just any glass either, it’s something he’s had since childhood. A pint glass with brightly colored citrus fruits painted on the outside—right there in his hand, safe—until it wasn’t. Until it slipped.

And out of all the things he’s ever experienced—all the moments that have scared him practically to death or the arguments that have left him bloody or the loves lost and battles barely won and people who have left—the stupid glass is what gets him.

His eyes fill with tears he doesn’t know what to do with. Usually he stops them from falling out of sheer willpower, but this time they pour down his freckled cheeks. This time, his body joins him in the falling apart. He feels it all roll through him, and he cries. He cries hard. Right in the middle of his kitchen, right in the middle of the glass he should probably clean, right in the middle of a perfectly normal day.

He’s crying for everything and everyone. He’s crying for his younger self, he’s crying for the man he’s become.

Now he’s angry.

His breath quickens and he picks up another glass, hurling it to the ground on purpose. He picks up another, and throws it at the wall this time, glass flying everywhere. He pauses, leaning heavily into the counter, the sobs rippling through him like seismic waves—aftershocks of moments passed.

At some point, another figure joins him in the room. He doesn’t notice at first, his eyes screwed shut, cries still rippling through him.

Just as he’s about to smash another glass, he’s stopped by a hand wrapping firmly around his wrist. It’s Eddie.

He takes glass from Steve’s hand and sets it down on the counter. Steve’s still crying, embarrassment now mixing in with the anger and sadness. He should have remembered that Eddie was staying here—all those years alone in his house, he isn’t used to having company. Not like this.

Eddie doesn’t say anything, just sweeps up the glass, stopping to gingerly pick a few shards out of Steve’s hair and off his shirt. Steve is frozen to the spot. He doesn’t know how long he stands there. When Eddie’s done, he leads Steve over to the couch, sits down and pats the spot next to him.

Steve sinks into the cushions, finally looking him in the eyes.

“Eddie, I—I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” he stammers, voice hoarse from crying.

Eddie shakes his head reassuringly, reaching out to place a gentle hand on Steve’s shoulder.

“There’s nothing wrong with you Steve,” he whispers, eyes wide and full of compassion.

Steve’s chest tightens and he looks away, closing his eyes again.

“No. It’s stupid. It’s just a glass. There’s nothing to cry about.” He tries to put confidence behind his words but they come out shaky.

He feels Eddie’s hand move from his shoulder to cup his jaw, tilting his head so Steve is facing Eddie once again. He opens his eyes, tears sticking to his lashes. Even blurry, Eddie is beautiful. It’s not a new thought, but it’s one he thought he filed away—pushed to the back of his mind, something secret.

Eddie leans in until his forehead is pressed against Steve’s and murmurs, “There’s so much to cry about. It’s your turn, Stevie.”

So Steve cries.

He cries until he can’t anymore—until he’s lying on top of Eddie, his tears soaking Eddie’s shirt, breathing along with the steady rise and fall of Eddie’s chest. Steve feels wrapped up in emotion again, but it’s something else this time. Eddie’s holding him and it hurts in a different way.

It hurts like sore muscles, like what he imagines tattoos and piercings to feel like, like laughing so hard his stomach aches, like the way his lips and tongue burn from spicy food.

He doesn’t know what that means yet, but he wonders if Eddie can sense it too. He wonders if Eddie’s scars feel the same as his. He wonders if Eddie’s cheeks turn red when he cries. He wonders how it would feel to press his lips to Eddie’s—lick past the salt of his own tears, slide their tongues together, and kiss him until their mouths taste the same.

He knows it’s not the time. Not yet. But maybe soon.

Steve let himself unravel, and the world didn’t end. Steve let himself shatter, and Eddie was there to help gather the pieces.

He’s always known he can keep himself together. He’s always known he was strong enough, independent enough, brave enough to make it on his own—but for once, it’s nice to know he doesn’t have to.

It’s nice to know he doesn’t want to. 

taglist (please feel free to message me or comment if you’d like to be added or removed): @crying-trashcan @littlewildflowerkitten @goodolefashionedloverboi @currently-steddiebrainrot @oaklikethetrees @finalmoondragon @stonersteddie8666 @irregular-child @infinite-orangepeel @justforthedead89 @starry-eyedlune @meccaminayah @anaibis @gothwifehotchner @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @mx-jinxous @freyaforestafay @shotgunhallelujah @subversivecynic @daisyellsong @presidentmaria @lifeisnotsobadonceyoustopcaring

#steddie #steddie ficlet #steve harrington #steddie drabble #steve x eddie #eddie munson #steve harrington deserves to break down!!!!! #let that boy cry!

[sleepyeye17]

A little WIP inspired by first responders who struggle with the adrenaline vacuum. (Also my dad: when I was a kid he would hold up sofa cushions and pretend to be the bullies at school and I’d fight him. He was ahead of his time.)

Hey, Steve.”

“What?”

“Fight me.”

“What?”

Eddie put his hands in the strike pads and bounced on his toes.

“Come on. Fight me.”

“That is definitely not in your therapy regimen.”

Eddie waved the strike pads in Steve’s face, taunting him.

“No, but it’s in yours.”

“I’m not in the mood.”

Eddie reached out and batted the pad across Steve’s cheek.

“Gotcha!”

“Woah! What the hell, man!”

“I told you to fight me,” Eddie said, grinning. “So fucking fight me.”

Steve rolled his eyes, but put his hands into position.

“Okay,” Eddie said. “Talk to me.”

“What about?” The left pad darted out and got Steve’s right ear. “Hey!”

“‘I’m a stupid grown-up,’” Eddie said, making his voice deep. “‘I think you’re a spoiled brat.’ Come on, hit me!”

Steve darted out a fist and made contact with Eddie’s right pad.

“Nice! Now talk to me, baby!”

“I’m not spoiled,” Steve growled.

“Good! Tell me more!”

Steve was bouncing on his toes now.

“I hate my job.”

Smack on the left pad.

“Good! Remember to exhale on your punches.” Eddie put on the low voice again. “‘Maybe you should be more grateful.’”

This time the strike pad went low, and Steve rolled to the right, landing a good jab as he did it.

“The job is so easy,” Eddie said, struggling to maintain the deep voice as he fought back his grin. “I wish I could be paid to do nothing all day.”

“This job is bullshit!”

One-two!

“He’s the one who should be grateful,” Steve went on.

One-two-three!

“I’m the one that saved this fucking town. I’m the one who bled for them. I’m the reason they’re still fucking here!”

Three-four!

Five-six-three!

“And I’m so pissed that nobody knows that! I’m so pissed that I can’t acknowledge that! Where’s my glory!? Where’s my applause!?”

Three-four-three-two!

“All I have is this shitty concussion, and this shitty basement job, and fucking Post-Trauma-whatever-the-fuck, and here this asshole is telling me to be grateful!?”

Steve was crying, big fat sweaty tears, and Eddie dropped the pads and wrapped his arms around Steve as tight as he could manage. Steve sobbed into Eddie’s shoulder.

“You did so good, Stevie. That’s so good.”

#eddie munson #steddie #joseph quinn #steve harrington #stranger things #joe keery #joe quinn #stranger things 4 #steddie fluff #fanfiction #steve x eddie #boxing #depression #the letdown effect #ptsd #steddie wip #wip #boxing as therapy #let steve cry