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steviewashere · 4 months

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Hold My Hand and Look Me in the Eye

(also on ao3)

CW: Canon Compliant Violence/Gore, Slight Panic Attack

wc: 2,251

Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington & Eddie Munson

Tags: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Steve Harrington is Traumatized, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Post Season 4, Brief Mentions of Character Death, Eddie Munson Lives, Pre-Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Hopeful Ending, Steve Harrington Loves Eddie Munson, Eddie Munson Loves Steve Harrington, Sort of Love Confessions in Here

------------ In Steve's lap is Eddie's head. His wild, scraggly, curly mane of hair. Relaxed face—closed eyes and neutral lips and button nose. Tens of freckles and fanned eyelashes and straight cut eyebrows. Him and his soft puffs of air. All of him, facing up to Steve's torso and own face and his shaking hands.

He wants to run his fingers through Eddie's hair. Feel the dry ends and the knotted strands and how it's all soft in the end anyway. Wants to hear him hum in contentment, because that's what's missing in his demeanor. But there's one problem. One huge problem that threatens to gape Steve's mouth and make him puke. That causes him to rip his eyes away and stare at the wall.

For a while, he thought it was love. Something simple and mundane as that. Well, sort of simple and mundane; Steve's never loved normally a second of his life. He wished it was just this wonderful, bright thing that causes his insides to flutter and his heart to cease and his tongue to pool saliva like a hungry dog. Maybe, if he were to close his eyes and feel Eddie's skin against his own, he could admit out loud through a waned, hesitant, soft breath: "I'm so in love with you." Because he is. He's so madly, terribly in love—he wishes sometimes he could consume all of Eddie, stuff him behind his ribcage, squish him around his heart where all the holes are, and feel Eddie's sinew combine with his—feel them coagulate and meld and stick to one another like dried blood in lifelines. Maybe he's possessive, obsessive, beyond freak and human nature. But maybe tasting Eddie between his teeth would cure his sickly insides.

But no, he's just sick. He's sick with want and need. He's sick in the head, unable to imagine anything else but...blood. Eddie's blood. The torn, shredded skin on his limbs. All the wet layers of muscle that dried in the air of the Upside Down. That's all Steve can see when he looks at Eddie. When he feels him. When he hears him, even. That death rattle. The thing that haunts his sleep. The thing that threatens his very being, his solitude, his touch starved sin. The thing that makes him lean close, too close sometimes, and make sure Eddie's breath is solid and long and passively peaceful—or there at all, for that matter.

Steve can't look at somebody he wants like no other. Can't stare without imagining death and grief and sabotage and broken ribs under his palms and the metallic taste on his own lips, the metallic strings of saliva that connect him to the Eddie of yesterday—the one who laid stock still in a field of rock hard dirt and blue skies. He wonders how Nancy can ruminate on pictures of Barb. If her stomach and heart lurch the same—if her insides know her betrayal, like Steve's insides know his and Eddie's betrayal like the alphabet. (Steve can recite it all backwards, forwards, misplaced but with the same end result.)

So, instead of running his fingers through Eddie's hair, Steve tucks his hands under his armpits and looks off at the wall. He wants to touch, but can't. Just...can't.

---- It comes to a head one evening in Steve's living room, miles of space beyond them, and yet. It's the same predicament, of sorts. Eddie's too close. Steve's too hungry with want. Too devastated by what he's seen. And makes last ditch efforts to not look Eddie in the eyes. But the one time his sight locks on with Eddies, by accident because Steve would never allow this, all he sees is anger.

"You don't look at me," Eddie bites.

Steve flinches. And, even though it's being Brough to light, he still looks away. His tongue too heavy in his mouth, he doesn't dare open to respond. There's a million things he could say. The trauma. The heartbreak. The devastation. His messy over the moon feelings. Put his beating heart into the open air, it pulsating and tender and red raw. He could look Eddie in the eyes and feign annoyance. He could look Eddie in the eyes and break out into tears. He could cry, that's it. That's what he wants to do every time he sees Eddie, and how awful is he?

"Seriously, man?" Eddie asks aloud, annoyed. "You're unbelievable. Maybe I should just go home."

He whines pathetically at that like he's a wounded animal. Some little thing laying battered on the forest floor behind his house. A three-legged dog with a sprained foot and wet eyes and malnourished belly. The mewling cat that lays prone in his neighbor's front yard, also hungry, also sad, also injured like a shot-to-the-head mistake. Steve shakes his head. Inhales something stuttering and scrunches his fists in his jeans. If Eddie goes now, Steve knows he'll never see him again. And if Eddie goes, it'll be just like what Steve thought back in the Upside Down: I will never see him again and I will miss him with my whole body and I will wish that I was his friend. I will love somebody I could've loved harder.

"Look at me," Eddie demands. "Look me in the eyes and tell me that you want me here."

And Steve should. He should stare and gaze and ignite with fury. How stupid of an idea, that he doesn't want Eddie in his home. He should say something, really. Get down on his knees, maybe. Beg and plead. And tell Eddie all the ways in which he's charmed Steve's soul. With every flourish and every stuttered sentence and every half-assed doodle. All the smiles he presents because Steve can remember, if he tries hard enough, though he truly isn't sure he could. Recite word for word how Eddie orders his cheeseburgers and his breakfast platters and his coffee. Make list after list of every band that's ever inspired Eddie to be a musician or to fall in with music. Paint over all the ugly Harrington portraits with all the colors staining Steve's heart—the rainbows and pastels that Eddie has somehow bruised him with. But it's futile.

He can't look and can't speak and can't stop the lurching of his own stomach.

"See," Eddie hisses, "this is exactly what I'm talking about. I'm going home."

Eddie stands. And he’s tall. Well, as tall as Steve. Lithe and long and movement after movement after movement. Steve has always loved to watch his back as he enters rooms or exits doors or turns and stretches and—But Steve doesn’t like to watch him leave.

His chest boils with unkept feelings. The want, the desire, the multitudes. Throat stinging and nose pinching and eyes…He begins to cry. Softly, at first, as Eddie grabs his coat from by the front door. As he bends down to tie his shoes and untuck his hair from the collar of his jacket. As he chases around his pocket for his keyring. But as his hand lands on the doorknob—

Steve sobs, at least he hopes he did. The sound that escapes him is halfway a cry and halfway a scream. Raw and bleeding and hurting. He can’t stand to look at Eddie always leaving, nearly leaving, leaving Steve’s heart like a steadfast bullet.

And that’s when, for all the energy and movement constantly leaving Eddie’s body, Eddie goes stock still. Head angling to look over his shoulder, though not quite peeking. Fingers scrunching around the doorknob.

“Wait,” Steve gasps, “Eddie, wait.” He scrambles up from the couch as fast as humanly possible, clumsily ambling around his coffee table, nearly tripping over the floorboards. “Eddie,” he whispers, pleading, “please don’t go. I can—Please let me explain.”

“Then explain,” he demands once more.

Steve, for the first time, reaches out. He gently brushes the back of Eddie’s right hand with his fingers. The skin under his fingertips is warm, thin, malleable. It’s wrinkling and pushing with Steve. It’s warm. On a real body. On an alive body.

His breath stutters in his chest as he attempts to get himself under control. He swallows back the rest of his tears, they go down harder than he would like to admit. “It’s really hard to—To really look at you sometimes,” he admits, voice quiet and trapped. “But I always want to look at you. I just can’t bring myself to do it.”

Eddie shifts in front of him. His hand moving away from Steve’s fingers. Face directed at Steve’s head. Probably looking, but Steve doesn’t actually know. His own face is pointed down to where his fingers were, eyes dim and closed off. “Why, though? You too good for me or something?” Eddie asks. And Steve feels mad for a second, that that’s the assumption that he goes to. But also, he knows that Eddie has every right to ask. It’s not everyday that one of your close friends admits that it’s hard to look at you.

“No,” Steve breathes. “I just can’t look at you without—“ And his voice stops there. Trapping in his throat as if two hands wrapped themselves around his neck, pulling him back and restraining, forcing him to choke and heave and fall silent. He just shakes his head and sobs again. He feels so weak, unable to explain himself, unable to put himself back together enough to get the words out in the open. To finally let Eddie truly decide if he wants to leave or not.

And at this point, Steve would understand if the door slammed in his face. Opportunity now forever closed off to him.

But instead, there’s a soft touch to his shoulder. Fingers gently creeping up the side of his neck, probably able to feel his rabbit like pulse. “Hey,” Eddie whispers, “just tell me. Let me understand what’s going on in that big brain of yours.”

Steve lets out a self-deprecating chuckle. “You’re going to hate me,” he chokes. “You’re going to hate the reason.” He thinks, as he always does, Please don’t hate me, Eds. Please don’t go around and hate me.

“Stevie, if you just tell me what’s going on—No—“ Eddie’s hand scoots up to Steve’s face, his palm barely cupping his cheek, a thin gap of air and palm. “—Stevie, I don’t know what’s happening, but I assure you that I won’t hate you. It’s too easy to love you for that to happen.”

He peels off the bandaid at that. He loves me, Steve glows, he thinks it’s easy despite me. “I look at you and see blood, Eds. I see…I see death. And I hear that—That stupid fucking rattle. I can’t escape it,” he rambles on. “I go to sleep and have nightmares about you laying on the ground and I’m able to see all your muscles and your bones and—The blood, Eds, I see the blood.” His breath leaves him haltingly. Sharp and fast and panting. “I’m sorry,” he croaks. “I love you, but I can’t even fucking look at you. I don’t know—I don’t know how to fix it.”

Eddie makes a soft sound. Something like a coo. A gasp. A gentle, unmoored, sad sigh. “You don’t need to be fixed, Steve. That’s—God, you’re traumatized. Fuck,” he whispers. “I fucking scarred you.”

“Eds, you didn’t—“

“But I did! I changed the way your brain functions. But I—You don’t need to be fixed. We…” Eddie’s hand flexes on Steve’s cheek. His other hand cups Steve’s face. They bring him up to Eddie’s eyes. And Steve, for all that he usually can’t handle looking at, sees color. Like the transition in The Wizard of Oz. Blushing cheeks and dark brown eyes and rose petal pink lips. “We’re going to get you through this,” Eddie devotes, determined and still. “What makes it easy to hang around me? Like…What do you do to even let me be in your home?”

Steve squeezes his eyes shut and sighs through his nose. “I keep my music and movies low. To hear when you move around or when you breathe. Like when you stayed the night a few days ago, all I did was lay awake in my room to hear you shift around your bed,” he concedes. “I know that sounds…It sounds really creepy now that I say it out loud. When you laugh, I like that. Or when I can feel your skin under my hand, it’s warm. I like the warmth.”

Eddie blinks, thinking too. “What if,” he tentatively starts. “What if when I stay the night, we share the bed? Or when you listen to music, I sing along? Or if I blink really fast and you look at me?” Steve huffs a laugh and opens his eyes, feeling already a tad lighter. “It could work! Even if you just watched my mouth when I talk? Or when I snore, because I know that I snore.”

“God, you really want me to look at you,” Steve teases.

“I want you to be comfortable. Also—“ He drops his hand away and grabs Steve’s left. “What if I just hold your hand all the time, squeeze it every once in a while? Maybe that will tell you that I’m alive.”

Steve’s smile is small, but there. “I’d like that.”

“Good, then I’ll hold your hand every step of the way.”

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#stranger things #steddie #fanfiction #steve harrington #eddie munson #angst #hurt/comfort #traumatized steve harrington

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crayonboxcolors607 · 1 year

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CW! child abuse and neglect, drug and alcohol abuse, slurs, period-typical homophobia!

Steve was six years old the first time he was left home alone. It was only for a short while, an hour, maybe two at most. He hadn’t been scared, as he confessed to Robin much later down the line, but the look on her face let him know that he probably should have been. Not being scared of being left home alone at the age of six was not a good thing.

Even after Steve explained the full story, the look of sadness and pity remained in her eyes. He didn’t understand why.

Steve had woken up one morning to the phone ringing. And ringing. And ringing. And he’d found it a bit strange that nobody was answering it.

So he’d clambered out of bed, stumbling across the carpet with the clumsiness of a six-year-old just waking up. He’d descended the stairs one by one, clinging onto the banister with both hands as his left foot followed his right onto each step. When he finally reached the bottom of his journey, Steve was much more awake. He’d become aware as he dismounted the final step of the emptiness in his stomach, the crawly feeling of hunger that resided there.

With a sigh far too big for someone so young, Steve ventured into the kitchen. He dragged a barstool over from the island to the counter, clambering up on it to reach the phone. By this point, the phone had stopped ringing and a voicemail was beginning to crackle out of the speakers. Now, Steve didn’t quite know how the phone worked, but he’d seen his parents scoop up the receiver with one hand enough times to know that it was step one. So he did just that, delighting when he heard a voice on the other end, even if it was just someone calling from the pharmacy to let his mother know that she had a prescription to pick up.

Having felt that he’d succeeded in his mission, Steve started to drag the barstool back towards the kitchen counter, with the intention of finding something to eat. He managed to climb up and pull peanut butter and Wonderbread from the cupboard before the stool began to wiggle and he vaulted himself onto the floor for safety.

Having survived the seemingly dangerous escapade, Steve proceeded to extract a butter knife from the silverware drawer and began the deliberate process of spreading peanut butter onto his bread.

Once he was finished, Steve carefully placed another slice of bread on top, creating a sandwich to his taste. He placed the bread and peanut butter back on the counter, along with the knife, before settling down on the couch to watch cartoons and enjoy his sandwich.

He must have fallen asleep at some point because he woke up to his father shaking him awake, yelling about leaving the food out and not cleaning up after himself. He started to cry as he tried to apologize, but Richard Harrington was apparently having none of that. With a sharp slap to the side of Steve’s face, his father told him in a menacing tone, “Stop crying like a little girl Steven! What are you, some kind of fag? I won’t have that kind of disgrace for a son. Grow the fuck up!”

There was no explanation as to where either of his parents had been, and Steve looked around wildly for his mother. She was facing away from them, however, pouring herself a glass of wine.

His father began to drag Steve up the stairs to his room, pulling on his arm in a way that would surely leave a bruise later. As he tossed Steve into his room and hollered that he wouldn’t be eating dinner that night, Steve’s only thought was that he hadn’t gotten a chance to tell his mother that her prescription was ready.

#steve harrington #robin buckley #steve harrington's parents #bad parenting #steve harrington had a bad childhood #stranger things #stranger things 4 #traumatized steve harrington

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mortiaddams13 · 1 year

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Inspiration has struck and I’m abso-fucking-lutely writing a Beauty and The Beast Steddie fic. Steve being the once arrogant and pompous beast, and Eddie being the book loving romantic freak of town and is trans

OMG. Billy as Gaston, Wayne as Belle’s father of course, the inspired inventor, it gets better the more I think

#stranger things #eddie munson #steddie #beauty and the beast #gay fanfiction #traumatized steve harrington #steve harrington deserves a hug #steve harrington

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hairmetal666 · 3 months

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Steve knows he falls in love too easily. Nancy told him, Robin too.

But falling in love with Eddie Munson is hard.

They're supposed to be friends after Vecna. They're supposed to be friends, but Steve can't get past what Eddie did in the Upside Down; how he put himself in a position to nearly die, how Dustin got hurt. It's not fair. He knows it's not, but it doesn't make the anger go away.

Eddie's part of the group now, though, and Steve won't leave him out, no matter how angry. They're all at movie nights, at pool parties, at Hellfire, at Corroded Coffin gigs. It's just that Steve and Eddie don't speak. And Steve is okay with it. If it's what it takes to make sure that they're all hanging out together, not talking to Eddie is a small thing. He's pretty sure Eddie doesn't mind. At least, he seems as uninterested in hanging out with Steve as Steve is with him.

It doesn't need to be anything more than that, and it isn't, not until Steve goes upstairs to get more sunscreen during one of the pool parties, and walks back downstairs to find Munson waiting for him in his kitchen.

"You need something?" He asks, unable to fully hide the way he jolts with surprise.

Eddie twists the rings on his fingers, something Steve's noticed he does whenever he's nervous. "You have a problem with me, Harrington?

"No, of course not," he answers too fast.

"C'mon, man. You can barely stand to be in the same room with me."

"That's not true! We're in one together right now."

Eddie rolls his eyes so hard that it has to hurt. "Don't do that. Don't pretend like you don't know what I mean. You can't stand to be alone with me for more than thirty seconds."

Steve splutters, searching for a plausible reason.

"Is it cause--" Eddie swallows, hand going back to cup his neck. "Is it cause you heard me tell Robin that I'm gay? Back at the hospital. Is it because--" he cuts himself off.

Something in Steve's chest clenches hard, warmth swooping dangerously in his stomach. "No," Steve says, means it. "I didn't hear. I didn't-- it has nothing to do with that. It's--that's cool. Thanks for--yeah, that's cool."

Eddie's smile is a brittle little thing. "Then, what else?" Eddie pulls a chunk of hair over his mouth. "I can't think of any other reason you'd hate me so much."

"I don't." And Steve hopes it's coming off as genuine. "I promise."

He can't help remember the camaraderie, the understanding, that started to grow between them in the Upside Down. The "don't cha, big boy?" of it all. They could be friends. They should be.

They shouldn't get into it. Not right here, not right now when the kids' splashes and excited screams filter through the sliding door.

"You're a shit liar, Harrington."

"Ed--I'm not--"

"You know what? Don't bother. I'll just--" He jolts in the direction of the front door.

"Don't be stupid, Munson."

"God, I can't believe I didn't see it before. You just fucking loathe me."

"I do not. Grow up."

"Oh, yeah? Then what's your problem?"

"There isn't--"

"Stop lying!"

"You didn't fucking think!" He shouts. Loud enough that the noise outside cuts off. "You pulled that shit in the Upside Down and you almost died! Dustin got hurt!"

Eddie blinks his big brown eyes in stunned surprise.

"I told you, I said, 'dont try to be cute or be a hero or something.' And you know what you said? Do you?"

Eddie won't look at him now. "I had to make a choice, Steve."

"It was the wrong one!"

"I would do it all again. No matter what you say. I would do it to draw the bats away. To protect Dustin."

"But you didn't."

"There was no other way to stop them, Steve! They would've gotten through, into Hawkins."

"It doesn't matter."

"You weren't there! You can't tell me--"

"Yes, I can! I know."

"You don't! You think--"

"I almost lost you!" He screams. "You nearly died in my arms, Eddie. And for what?"

Falling in love with Eddie wasn't easy. It was blood and near death; it was weeks in a cold hospital room while Eddie existed in a drug-induced twilight state; it was agonizing convalescence and physical therapy and changing bandages; it was Eddie leading dnd sessions with bright eyes and contagious enthusiasm, herding the kids to the arcade and video store, theatrically serving snacks at movie night; it was festering, senseless anger at the near loss of something.

Eddie's lips tremble. "Steve, I--"

"It doesn't matter." He turns away to slide a hand down his face in an effort to wipe away the emotion. "You're fine and we're--it doesn't matter."

"I'm sorry," he whispers. "Steve, I'm sorry. I wanted--I thought it would help. I thought--"

And Steve has to admit, he does, the whole terrible contradiction of it all. "I know," he whispers back. "I would've--I know."

"I thought I was protecting Dustin. I thought I was buying you guys time with Vecna." Eddie's voice breaks. "I didn't--I--" He squeezes his eyes shut.

In the quiet of the kitchen, they gravitate to one another, foreheads resting together.

"I should have been there, Ed. I shouldn't have left you two alone. You almost died, and I--"

"Sweetheart, I'm right here. We're right here."

They don't kiss, but they're close enough that their mouths brush with each breath they take.

"Don't do that, again." Steve clenches his fists into Eddie's cutoff t-shirt. "Promise you won't ever--"

"I promise, Stevie. I promise. I'll be by your side until the very end, whatever it is."

#steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #ficlet #angst #angst with a happy ending #getting together #falling in love #protective steve harrington #oblivious eddie munson #mutual pining #steve harrington is bad at feelings #not quite rivals not quite enemies but a secret third thing to lovers #it's angst but then it's sweet #we're all traumatized here

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rambamthxman · 3 months

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Eddie.

You're thinking out loud, Eddie.

Eddie.

Eddie please💀

-Robin

#steddie #steddie fanart #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #babygirl steve harrington #eddie munson needs to be stopped #good job dingus now you've traumatized your child #eddie munson is a terrible flirt #oblivious steve harrington #rambamthxman art!#robin buckley #dustin henderson

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morganbritton132 · 8 months

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Eddie starts a live-stream in the kitchen and then immediately leaves the room because he forgot half the shit he needed in his studio. Meanwhile, Steve and Dustin are coming in from the backyard. They’re bickering about the injury Steve got.

Steve: It’s a splinter. I don’t care that your mom is a nurse, I don’t need her to drive to Chicago to remove it. This is just like with-

Dustin: Oh my god, if we would’ve called my mom then than maybe your nose wouldn’t look like that and you wouldn’t have spent the whole night at the hospital getting Miss Byers’ plate removed from your skull with Hopper.

Steve: Dude, what were you planning on telling her? The house was torn to shit and we put a dead dog in the fridge.

Eddie, standing in the doorway: …What the fuck?

Dustin:

Steve:

Dustin: It was for science

Steve, at the same time: It was dead when we found it

#Sometimes when a 14yo boy experiences something traumatic they want their mom Steven #Eddie is literally just like: 🧍‍♂️wut??#neither Dustin nor Steve ever mentioned the demodog in the fridge because they don’t want to remind Joyce of it #eddie munson tiktok saga #steve harrington #eddie munson #dustin henderson

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harringroveera · 2 months

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They never put Billy on speaker ever again

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artiststarme · 5 months

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After the events of Spring Break and long before either of them even consider dating, Steve and Eddie become friends. Eddie shares his weed and buys them alcohol, Steve provides food and a place for Wayne and Eddie to crash for awhile, and Robin kind of freeloads on everything (although she considers her witty one-liners and company payment enough). Even still though, it takes more than just friendship to force Steve to join a DnD campaign.

With the departure of Grant, Jeff, and Gareth from the Hellfire club, the Party is woefully short on manpower. Will joins and Eleven tries too but even with the addition of their two characters, the Party isn’t strong enough to survive Eddie’s devious campaigns. So they target Steve. Between Eddie’s pleading puppy dog eyes and the endless pestering of the kids, Steve joins. Initially, he’s hesitant. He thinks he’s only going to play a handful of games to get the kids back on their feet before parting with them. But then he discovers that he’s good at it. He discovers that he enjoys flirting with the NPCs and annoying the shit out of his fellow characters. He likes saving the kids and watching their backs in fights all too reminiscent of the Upside Down. It makes him feel useful, needed, wanted.

Most of all though, he likes seeing how his words affect Eddie. He starts looking forward to seeing the blank look on Eddie’s face when he does something he’s not expecting, forcing Eddie to dive into the very depths of his imagination. Steve likes seeing Eddie’s lips quirk into a smirk when his flirts land their mark. He imagines kissing the quirk away until those very same lips are bruised red with burst capillaries. He wants to see Eddie’s smile directed at him for every moment of everyday, not just from behind the Dungeon Master’s partition or on a dinner date with Robin. Steve wants to hear Eddie’s husky voice explain his plans for DnD while they cuddle in bed hiding from the cold Indiana winter (although he would never admit something so nerdy to anyone). His thoughts and Eddie’s reactions to his admittedly mediocre flirting only makes Steve like playing DnD with him more.

He especially enjoys the day when all the flirting finally leads Eddie to corner him once the kids leave to ask him out on a proper date (or in their case, Cheetos and strawberry milkshakes on the roof of Eddie’s van while watching snowflakes fall from frozen clouds). In hindsight, it only made him wish he’d joined the nerdy dragon club sooner. Maybe then he could’ve been kissing Eddie Munson for years by then. Steve guesses he’d just have to keep Eddie around for years to come.

#the kids have to experience their flirting get significantly more detailed and graphic as time goes on #as if the Upside Down hadn't traumatized them enough #but it does get Robin to join the campaign for nothing else other than to gather blackmail to use against her dinguses later #hearing them flirt only serves to make her happier to be a lesbian #stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #ficlet #hellfire club

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