#vickie x robin | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

finntheehumaneater · 5 months

Text

⭐️Radio Star⭐️ (part three)

(Part one) (part four)

Robin was sprawled across the couch, glaring into the tea that Steve had brought her, her feet propped up on the opposite armrest as she looked up at him. “What is this?”

“Tea,” Steve said simply, shrugging and kicking her legs gently out of the way before sitting down. The documentary was on the TV, and this was the first time she had torn her eyes away from it in the last hour.

“This is not tea, Steven.” She muttered, stretching over to place it down on the coffee table.

He rolled his eyes and pushed himself up enough to reach over and grab the cup, some of the liquid running down the side of the mug and onto his hands. It wasn’t hot, because Robin didn’t like hot tea. Or iced tea. She would only drink kind-of-warm tea, which he thought was weird, but never commented on.“You didn’t even drink any, how do you know?”

“Because it’s the stuff from the advent calendar, and that stuff is horrid.” She sat up, which jostled the couch cushions and made more tea spill onto him, and he sighed.

“It’s horrid?”

“Yes, it is horrid.”

Steve took a sip and forced himself to swallow, gagging slightly. “What the fuck is in this.”

“I told you!” Robin shouted, throwing her hands in the air and flopping back down on the couch, which made even more tea spill into Steve’s lap. “Why did you even keep the calendar? It’s October!”

In truth, he had only bought it because it was on sale last year and he thought it might be fun to try, but every bag tasted slightly like licorice and it really was horrid—he just wasn’t going to admit that to Robin, because he hated when she was right. And he was not about to throw away ten dollars of perfectly (disgusting) fine tea bags just because Robin was picky about what she drank.

“If you drank the tea more than it would be gone sooner—“

Robin reached over and took the tea out of his hands, getting up and pausing the documentary before going into the kitchen and, presumably, dumping down the sink.

They watched the rest of the movie in silence, and Steve had to stop her from putting it on again, before going up to change. He had slept in jeans before, and he never wanted to do that again, even if he didn’t have a choice, like the last time. Because honestly? The shorts from his old work uniform would have been more comfortable to sit in the bottom of some creep's dingy basement with, but the two of them hadn’t known that when they had changed into their normal clothes before leaving.

Robin was still laying on the couch, but she looked half-asleep by the time Steve came back, and he considered waking her up to drag her to bed with him, but she probably would have hit him with the pillow if he tried. So he let her stay there, trudging off to bed and trying to find a place to lay that wasn’t covered in Robin’s things—books and her little shark stuffed animals that she insisted he get her for Christmas. And he never argued with Robin when it came to sharks.

Steve dropped onto the bed and huffed, his face pressed into the pillow, his eyes closed and his muscles trying to relax. Sleeping had always been hard, but it got worse—especially when he slept alone. He was seconds away from deciding it was best to squeeze on the very little part of the couch that Robin wasn’t taking up when the doorbell rang, and he shot up, flinching slightly. The strangled noise from the living room let him know that Robin had done that, too.

“It’s okay,” He rushed out, getting up and hating the way his body sagged slightly as he made his way back through the hallway. “It’s just the door. I’ll get it.”

He looked over to Robin, who had pulled the blanket over her head and curled up beneath it, some of her hair peeking out the only indicator that she was actually under there.

He was so fucking tired. If this was their neighbor here to complain about their bushes one more time, he was going to strangle the old woman.

The entire world was yellow underneath the blanket, which was still dark, but light enough for Robin not to feel panicked. She could hear Steve grumbling to himself as he walked past her, and it took her a moment to calm her breathing.

It was only the doorbell, right? She wasn’t going to die, there was no one out there that wanted to kill her. Again. It was probably just their elderly neighbor coming to tell them that their bushes looked ugly, which honestly? It was kind of rude, but it was fun to see Steve trying and failing to be nice, when he really just wanted to be a bitch to the woman.

Robin liked Ms. Hilda, though, because sometimes when Steve went out by himself (which rarely ever happened) she would come over with food and hang out until Steve got back—and Robin loved the company, even if all Ms. Hilda talked about was how Robin needed to be less dependent on that boy, because she was her own woman and could do her own things.

And that was true. To…some extent. She could do things on her own, it just always kind of felt like the world fell apart without Steve and then she would get panicked,and then she would probably cry because she really hated being alone, and—oh, now she was thinking about this all too much.

“Hey,” Steve said, his words short and clipped, muffled through the fabric of a blanket, and there was a quick ‘hey’ said back at him, the other person sounding out of breath—and Robin knew that voice.

She shot up, the blanket falling off of her and messing up her hair even further. There was Vickie, standing in the doorway, her short red hair swept to the side slightly in the little curls that they were always in, her pale skin flushed and her freckles looking like stars. Robin liked stars. She was wearing a green t-shirt and a long skirt that fell to her ankles—a picnic skirt, Robin thinks it was called—a yellow one with little buttons that went all the way down the front, her black boots a bit muddy at the bottom. She smiled at Robin past Steve—but it wasn’t the crooked little smile that made Robin’s heart flutter—it was a small, guilty one. One that looked sad.

Robin’s face flushed and she practically ran into the bedroom, hearing Steve sigh as she slammed the door behind her and sunk to the floor, her face pressed into her hands. What could Vickie possibly want with her, now? To embarrass her further? In front of Steve? In her own house?

(Well—technically it was Steve’s house. And even then, it was technically his parents house. It wasn’t big like the one he used to live in—the one that Robin had always refused to go inside because it made her feel very, very alone and tiny—this one was small with wooden floors and white peeling paint. His mom and dad had bought it, and continued to pay the bills for it, as an ‘apology’ for not helping look for him when he and Robin had gone missing—even though they had looked appalled at the idea of their son wanting to live in ‘this….thing.’ )

She heard footsteps in the hallway and Steve muttering some kind of apology to Vickie before there was a knock on the door—one that rattled through her fucking spine since she still had her back pressed to it. “Hey, Bobby?”

“Hm?” She choked out, her throat already feeling tight and itchy as her skin crawled and her bones ached. She got like this when she was sad. Steve said it was okay that she felt things with all of her, but she fucking hated it.

“Do you need me to come in?” His voice was gentle and it made her want to sob—so she did. A little bit, her finger tips pressing into her palms and leaving marks, little half-moon shapes that she smoothed over as she sighed wetly.

“No. I’ll be out in a minute, just—just let me change, first.” She sat up and waited until she thought he was back in the living room and grabbed her headphones, shoving them on and taking…probably the deepest breath she’d ever taken in her life—one that made her cough slightly as she cleared her throat and put on her music to just relax for a second (even though she ended up skipping through songs for a good minutes while she slipped on some jeans and a t-shirt—that was probably Steve’s—so that she wouldn’t have to talk to Vickie in a tank-top and her underwear).

Then, when she could hear Steve walking back towards the room—probably to drag her out of the room by her ankles if she wasn’t ready already—she opened the door and he jumped back slightly, squinting slightly as he took in her frazzled appearance.

“Do I look okay?” She whispered, pulling at her hair slightly.

Steve reached over to smooth it down slightly and then paused. “Yeah, good enough. Also stop taking my clothes. That’s my Beatles t-shirt.”

Robin looked down, and sure enough, she was wearing the brown tie-dye with John Lennon’s face in the middle. “It’s not a Beatles t-shirt, Steve, it’s a Beatle t-shirt. Singular. There’s only John.”

Steve huffed and rolled his eyes. “Fuck off and go talk to your girlfriend—”

“—Language. And she’s not my girlfriend—“

“—And I have a shirt with all of them on it, it’s just in the wash!” He called over to her as she walked to the living room, which got him flipped off over her shoulder as she sat down on the couch. Vickie was sitting opposite of her in the armchair, her hands fidgeting with the hem of her skirt, her knees pink and her socks green with little yellow flowers.

“Hey.” She whispered, her eyes watering slightly, and Robin wanted to reach over and touch her, but she didn’t, her hands clenched into fists in a way that she knew was making Vickie think she was mad. She wasn’t.

“I’m so sorry—“ Vickie started to say, at the same time that Robin started, “I’m not mad—“

“Oh,” She whispered, laughing quietly and wiping her eyes. The rim of them went red when she cried, and her nose went all pink-colored, and gods, she was fucking pretty. “Sorry.”

“Don’t—don’t say sorry,” Robin rushed out, her hands reaching over the coffee table before drawing back against her chest quickly. “I—I get it, I really do. I know I’m not the most…date-able person alive, and I’m really not the best person to live with either, I mean, I-I’m surprised Steve hasn’t kicked me out yet—“

“I would never do that, although I have thought about it,” Steve muttered as he stumbled into the kitchen, looking exhausted. Robin rolled her eyes but turned around to face where he had just been standing.

“You can go to bed, Steve, you don’t have to stay up for me.”

All she got was a mumbled, “I’ll be fine, Robs.” In response.

“Anyways, as I was saying—“ She started as she turned back around to face Vickie, but she was cut off when Vickie grabbed her face and pressed her lips against hers, putting most of her weight against Robin. And oh shit—when had she gotten up? Where was she supposed to put her hands? Was she supposed to kiss back? How was she supposed to kiss back?

All of those questions were short lived when Vickie pulled away, her nose even more flushed. It wasn’t the best kiss, because Vickie was crying, so it was kind of wet and tasted like tears, but holy fuck, Robin wanted to do it again. With less tears this time.

“I—“ she tried to speak, but Vickie only squished her cheeks in her palms lightly and kissed her again.

“No—you don’t get to say that stuff about yourself.” She whispered, eyes searching over Robin’s face in such a caring way that made her insides twist into knots and her organs want to explode. “You…I…I really don’t know what to say right now…”

“That’s…you were apologizing for something…? Before I interrupted…?” Robin whispered, hooking her arms around Vickie’s waist, and it felt normal enough, plus Vickie didn’t pull away, so maybe that’s what she was supposed to do with her hands?

“Oh. Oh, right! I—I’m sorry I missed out date, I really didn’t mean to stand you, up—“

“—I know—“

“—but I volunteer at a food donation place, and they needed more people to come in and help sort the produce, and I—they called me this morning, so I came in, and I totally forgot to call you and tell you about it! And I swear, the organizations who donate wait until some of the food starts to go bad to send it in, which is so screwed, I mean—we could hardly use any of it!” She paused and took a slow breath, sighing. “Sorry, I’m rambling, aren’t I?”

“Only a little bit, but it’s okay.” Robin whispered, sounding out of breath even though she wasn’t the one who had been talking.

“But I—I think…I think I might be falling in love with you.” Vickie laughed slightly when she said it, but she looked serious enough.

Robin felt her heart stop, and she tightened her hold on Vickie’s waist, if only slightly. She could tell that Vickie noticed, though, in the way that she moved just a bit closer, which made Robin whisper out a small, “Really…?”

Vickie nodded. “Really. Really really, Robin.”

Robin tried to speak, but she felt like dying. She wanted to peel off her skin, crawl back under the blanket, and let her bones just rot. After a few moments of watching Vickie’s lips, she started to whisper, “I think I might—“

Before she was cut off by fucking Steve, coming out of the kitchen. “Hey, Robs, I’m going to head off to—“

“Steve!” She hissed, turning around and glaring at him, and when Steve noticed how Vickie was practically in Robin’s lap, his face went bright red and he cleared his throat.

“Shit, uh…sorry, sorry. Carry on…whatever you’re doing.” He cringed slightly and looked them over before walking down the hallway.

Once Robin heard the door close, she looked back at Vickie. “I’m not…I don’t kiss a lot, so…”

“I could show you?” Vickie rushed out, looking down at Robin’s lips, her hands slipping from the sides of her face to her shoulders. “I have—I’ve done it before.”

Robin nodded and stood up, bumping into Vickie slightly and taking her hand. Fuck, her hands were sweaty. Was Vickie weirded out by that? She didn’t seem to be. “We have a guest room? It’s more comfortable than the couch.”

“Mhm. That, uh…that sounds nice.”

Fuck, why did she put on jeans? Of all pants? Steve’s t-shirt was off and kicked to the edge of the bed, and her hands were fumbling with the button. These jeans were…probably a bit tight on her, but she hadn’t thrown them out yet because then Steve would have taken her to get new ones, and she really hated going to the store. No—her and Vickie were about to have sex (if she was reading this whole thing correctly) why was she thinking about that right now? She just needed to focus on getting her fucking pants off, and—

“Robin?” Vickie’s lips moved off of hers for a moment, just far enough away to say something, and Robin practically gasped for air, pressing her forehead to Vickie’s shoulder. Vickie’s bra was slipping off, and for a moment Robin felt guilty for staring, but wasn’t that the point of getting undressed like this? To admire the other person?

“Hm?”

“Do you need help?”

“I, uh…no, no, I’ve got this.” She muttered, finally undoing the button and pushing the jeans past her hips before tossing them somewhere near the door.

Vickie’s eyes glanced down slightly, and Robin felt her face flush, shifting uncomfortably. “I…”

“You…you know we don’t have to do this, right? We can just…we can just kiss.” Vickie sounded slightly guilty when she said it, but there was a faint trace of disappointment in her eyes as she looked back up and kissed Robin’s shoulder.

Robin shivered slightly and wrapped her arms around Vickie’s waist. “N-no, no. We can, if you want. It’s fine.”

Vickie looked at her for a moment—like, really looked at her—and it was really cute the way her eyes scrunched at the corners when she thought. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’m…I’m sure.”

Robin woke up that morning with her face pressed into the pillow, someone else’s leg over her’s, and almost all of her clothes gone. Her bra was slipping down her shoulders, almost completely off, and her underwear was…somewhere. She sat up and gently moved Vickie’s leg off of her before getting up and putting some clothes on—grabbing Steve’s t-shirt from the floor and muttering, “Sorry you had to see all that, John.”

Steve was in the living room, sat on the couch and drinking tea. He kept making a face every time he took a sip. Robin still didn’t understand why he kept the calendar. He could have just thrown it out.

“Morning.” She muttered, tossing Steve’s shirt to him as she plopped down in the armchair. Was she supposed to wait for Vickie to wake up, too?

Steve fake-gagged and threw the shirt back at her. “I’m not touching that thing until you wash it.”

“We didn’t even do anything—“

“The walls are thin, Robin, I heard everything—“

“—plus you’ve offended John.”

Steve nearly spit out his tea, which didn’t really mean anything because the tea was fucking gross. “I’m sorry?”

“No, don’t say it to me, say it to John.” Robin muttered as she picked up the t-shirt off the floor from where it sat at her feet.

“I am not apologizing to a John Lennon t-shirt.”

“Steve.”

“What?”

She tossed the t-shirt back to him, and it hit him in the face. “Fucking apologize to the John Lennon t-shirt.”

Steve held the t-shirt at arm's length and frowned. “This is so fucking stupid. I’m sorry.”

She smiled and stood up, taking the t-shirt back from him and going to put it in the wash. Everything felt…weird, now, but she wasn’t sure if it was in a good way or not. She just couldn’t wait for Vickie to get up so that she could change the sheets and stop worrying about it.

Pinterest board!

Hallo! I really hoped you guys enjoyed this part, because it’s the longest part I’ve written for this so far, and i spent all day working on this instead of hanging outside in the snow :)

comments and reblogs are appreciated, and feel free to send me asks and stuff because getting them makes me very happy ⭐️

IF YOU SAY ANY MISTAKES. I AM SO FUCKING SORRY. I DON’T HAVE A BETA READER FOR THIS I JUST WRITE AND THEN IMMEDIATELY POST. SORRY.

if you’d like to be tagged, let me know in the comments, and if you don’t want to be tagged but still want to follow along with the story, you can either follow my blog, or follow the tag “Radio Star by Finn”

taglist!:

@strangersteddierthings @an-atlas-or-other @aol19 @randombibitch @eddie-munsons-lunchbox @stillfullofshit @steventhusiast @estrellami-1 @jaytriesstuff

@itsthestrangestthings (so…I scrapped the make-out scene, lmao. And I got…whatever this was…? Also not as many sharks as I thought there would be…but there will be more throughout the rest of the story 🦈)

@5ammi90 @absolutegremlin

I think that’s everyone, but if I missed you lmk!!!

also I know there was no steddie in this part but I’m still tagging it as that because I like to use the same tags for fics regardless—just in case someone stumbles upon this part intending to read a steddie fic (since there’s some in the other parts)

132 notes · View notes

finntheehumaneater · 4 months

Text

⭐️Radio Star⭐️ (part 5)

(TW: brief reference to past trauma, some gory description {blood, bones, guts, ripping/pulling of skin, etc.} but it’s used in a poetic sense so it’s not actually happening)

(If you want to be added to the taglist, let me know via the comments! And if you want to follow along with the story but don’t like being tagged, you can either follow my blog, or follow the tag “radio star by Finn”!!)

reblogs and comments are appreciated 🩵

(Part one) (part six)

Steve spent an embarrassing amount of time waiting by the phone these days—curled up on the floor next to the wall with his head pressed to his knees and his jacket pulled tight around him. Eddie hadn’t called, and he was pretty sure he wasn’t going to—but god he wanted him to. He really did. It felt like invisible hands were tugging at his skin, bloody fingers curled against his spine, pulling him and telling him to just give up and lay down and die. He hadn’t really felt like himself in weeks, and he needed a distraction.

The phone book on the shelf—balanced on top of novels that Robin had never read but insisted on buying—was full of numbers that he would never have remembered otherwise. Old friends. Family members he had cut contact with years ago. Past hookups from months ago because he swore of doing that shit if it didn’t mean anything real to him.

He stood up, leaning against the wall and scrubbing his hand harshly against his eyes. He was crying and he didn’t even know why. He opened the phone book and flipped through the pages, running his fingers over the soft paper and sighing.

Robin was out with Vickie. She had been spending less time with him, and it was fucking ripping him apart from the inside out. His blood and guts were on the floor, covering the walls and the carpet and their shared beds, and she walked out on him with unknowing eyes—just ruffling his hair and saying she would probably end up staying the night.

And he knew he was being dramatic, he fucking knew it, but he also knew that he was losing his best friend. The person who knew about everything that he had been through—the person that he cried to when the memories of things he had blocked out came flooding back to him and all he wanted to do was shed his skin and curl up in the closet as someone new and broken.

Plus he could feel a migraine coming on, which was just fucking great.

He could call Addie. But they only went on two dates and had sex once. She got mad when he was upset over something, so she wasn’t the best person to call. Instead, he punched in Vickie’s phone number. Maybe if he just talked to Robin about what was going on she would come back home early and they could just…sit. And talk. Talking didn’t really help, but he was out of options, right now.

The phone rang for a minute. And then two. And then it stopped. No one answered. Steve forced himself to put it gently back into the receiver instead of slamming it like he wanted. He dropped his head into his hands and felt like falling apart and sobbing on the floor for a bit before making some tea. Some good tea, this time, not the stupid shit from the Advent Calendar.

But then the phone rang again, and he scrambled to grab it, talking with a choked and tight voice before he could even take a breath. “Fuck—Robin, I need—I need you to come home for a bit, I—“

He cut himself off when the person on the other end of the line cleared their throat and said gently, “Stevie? Is that you?”

It was Eddie. Steve nodded numbly, not realizing that Eddie couldn’t see him. He didn’t want to talk to Eddie right now, he wanted to talk to Robin. “Mhm,” he amended, willing his voice to go back to normal. It didn’t work.

“What’s wrong? Are you okay?” Eddie sounded genuinely concerned, and it made Steve want to cry again. Steve wrapped the phone cord around his finger and then dropped it. Then he did it again. He sighed. “No. I’m just…sorry, I don’t mean to be a bother.”

“Hey, hey—I called you. I called you because I wanted to talk to you. You didn’t do anything wrong, okay?”. Steve nodded again out of habit, and then muttered a quiet, “okay.”

Eddie sighed, but it sounded more teasing than anything. “You need to say it like you mean it, otherwise it doesn’t count.”

“This is so stupid.”

“Steve.”

“Hm?” He smiled slightly, despite himself, his hand tugging at the phone cord gently.

“I’ll keep bothering you until you say it.”

“Fine.” Steve huffed, rolling his eyes. “I didn’t do anything wrong. Happy?”

“Oh, I am very happy.” Eddie said, and Steve could hear the grin in his voice. “Sorry it took so long for me to call, honey. Pen smudges off easily. You don’t know how many innocent people I dialed before this while trying to guess what the missing number was.”

Steve laughed quietly at how Eddie phrased that, leaning against the wall a bit more. His face flushed at the nickname, but he kept his voice steady. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Now, what’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“I, uh…I don’t know. I just…don’t feel like myself.”

“How so?”

Steve paused, thinking. “I-I—I don’t…uh…it’s the anniversary of something soon, I guess. In two weeks. I always get…sad, I guess?” It felt good to admit that out loud after months of ignoring it. He just didn’t like to think about it, really—but recently his feelings about it had been getting stronger, and that wasn’t good.

“Oh, I’m sorry, sweetheart. Is it okay if I ask what happened?”

“I don’t…like talking about, I’m sorry.”

“Hey, don’t be sorry…” Eddie paused, and there was the sound of shifting from the other end and a soft huff. Eddie was probably sitting. Steve slid down the wall to sit, too, feeling the phone-cord go a bit taught around his finger, so he moved it. “You don’t ever have to tell me, okay? Don’t feel bad about it. I just…”

He trailed off, and Steve felt his shoulders tense.

“Are you going to be okay?” Eddie whispered, his voice softer than before. “I have—I have a friend who gets like that, kind of? He gets…he’s really fucking hard on himself, then. Is that what happens to you?”

Steve sighs, his eyes drifting to the front door. “No, I get…sad.”

“What helps?”

“Hm?”

“What helps when you feel sad.”

Steve thinks, again, his eyes watering slightly and his voice shaking again as he swallows around a pathetic sound he doesn’t ever want to let out. “Company, I-I guess?”

“And I take it you’re alone?”

Steve swallowed. Took a breath. “Yeah.”

“Okay, look—I know we don’t really know each other that well—“ that made Steve pause, his eyebrows furrowing. It was true. He didn’t know anything about Eddie—except where he worked—and he had waited by the phone like a fucking dog with his leash in his mouth for days. That was pathetic. He was pathetic.

“But,” Eddie continued. “I could come over? If having company helps you to be less sad?”

“The…the house is a mess, I…” Steve could hardly hear his own voice, but it sounded dazed and light, almost too quiet.

“We meet up then?”

“I don’t trust myself to drive.” His eyesight couldn’t be trusted anymore, and the thought that he might be losing it—really losing it that made him want to fucking die.

“I’ll pick you up, then. How does that sound, sweetheart? We can go wherever you want.”

“Are you sure it’s not an inconvenience or anything…? I—I can just deal with it—“

“Hey, stop…no one should have to be sad when it’s almost Halloween, that is practically a crime.”

Steve laughed, but it didn’t sound right. He told Eddie his address and went to change—because even though it was nearly 22:00, he hadn’t gotten dressed that morning.

It didn’t take long for Eddie to get there, and Steve was sitting on a chair on the porch when he arrived. This wasn’t a date, but he still wanted to make sure he looked okay. His eyes felt heavy, and they were probably red around the rims from crying. He hadn’t even cried a lot—just for a few minutes when he saw the two young girls who lived in the house next to them get home. And he knew it was stupid, but he missed Robin. He really fucking missed Robin, even though she was only half-an-hour away.

It was around 22:25, now, if the clock on the wall that he had gone inside to check a few minutes ago could be trusted. Eddie got out of his van, which looked old, but not damaged. Steve could see him clearly in the soft yellow light of the street-lamp. His hair was half-up-half-down, with two strands tugged out to frame his face, which he had probably done on purpose. Steve knew he had seen Eddie before their encounter at the Haunted maze thing, but that interaction was still fuzzy and hazed around the edges.

His face-piercings were more defined, black, and they stuck out against his very-fucking-pale skin. He was wearing his flannel and jeans, with a black t-shirt. Steve felt his fingers dig into his arms—into the sleeves of the jacket that Eddie had lent him.

Eddie stood there, waiting, looking at Steve with eyes so soft that it made his stomach twist into gross, bloody knots. Steve stood and walked over, stopping short in front of Eddie and looking down at his sneakers, water creeping back into his eyes. He needed to stop fucking crying.

Eddie laughed quietly and gently tugged at the sleeve of his jacket, which Steve was stalling taking off. “Is that John Lennon?”

Steve looked up. “Hm?”

“On your shirt.”

“Oh, uh…yeah.”

Eddie opened the passenger-seat door and bowed slightly, motioning for Steve to get in. He did. It smelled like cigarettes and the cheap strawberry chapstick that Robin always made him buy when they went shopping. He needed to stop thinking about Robin right now. There was a long list of things that he needed to stop doing.

Eddie closed the door and only for a moment did Steve feel shut in—in a way that he didn’t really like—before Eddie crossed to the other side of the car and slid into the driver's seat, tapping his hands on the wheel and sighing softly, looking over at Steve. “Are you okay?”

Steve nodded. He liked being with Eddie in person rather than over the phone. He didn’t have to wonder what he was doing. And he didn’t have to talk as much. Yeah, that was probably why.

“You like The Beatles?” Eddie questioned, turning the key and the car hummed softly. Steve sighed back and closed his eyes, nodding slightly again as he leaned his head against the window. It was late, and it was dark, and he was tired.

He heard Eddie shift, and his voice was closer when he spoke again. Softer. “Hey, sweetheart? Do you want me to just drive around for a while?”

Steve really didn’t, but he did. He didn’t want Eddie to have to drive him around just so that he could relax, but it was exactly what he needed. Steve nodded again.

He felt the car move forward for a very short moment, and then the world sort of fell away around him, the side of his forehead pressed to the cool window, his body slipped down perfectly in the seat until he felt okay. Until he felt safe.

He didn’t know when he had fallen asleep, or how long they had been driving , but Steve opened his eyes a little while after his bones felt the humming of the car stop. He sat up and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, forcing them to open. It was much darker than before, and there were trees around them. He could see the stars when he looked up through the window. Eddie wasn’t in the car anymore, but he could see the faint outline of a person sitting at the base of a tree, smoking a cigarette.

Steve pushed open the door with sleep-tired hands and stepped outside, his feet hitting the grass. He walked over to where Eddie was, sitting down next to him without a word and leaning back against the tree.

There was a body of water near them—black, but the water was white where it shifted from the moon. It was a lake. Or maybe a pond, Steve couldn’t really see how big it was through the branches and the bushes. The air around them smelled like pine.

Eddie pressed his arm against Steve’s, and his arm felt warm through the jacket sleeve. “Morning.”

“S’not morning.” Steve muttered, rubbing his eyes again. “What time is it?”

Eddie rested his hand on Steve’s knee so that Steve could see his watch. He had to squint to read the time. 00:30. He felt his shoulder sag slightly, and would have felt a twinge of disappointment when Eddie moved his hand, if he wasn’t already feeling horrible, guilt seeping in past his nerves and into his being. “Fuck, I’m sorry. You didn’t need to drive for that long.”

“Stop it,” Eddie whispered, his fingers slotting against Steve’s in a way that made his skin shudder and twist—wriggle around his whole body before it settled when Eddie leaned in slightly so that he could speak even quieter, his cigarette pinched in his other hand, thumb pressed to the end of it. “You don’t need to apologize, Stevie. I like driving. Honestly.”

“Where are we?” Steve found himself asking, looking up at the dark sky and pinpoints of light peering down at them. He could see Orion’s Belt.

“Does it matter?” Eddie said back, smiling slightly.

Steve shrugged and leaned his head against Eddie’s shoulder. “We should go back.”

“Should we?” Eddie said softly, and Steve could feel his breath against his hair.

“Mhm. You can bring me back when it’s lighter?”

“I would love to.”

Eddie stood and tugged on Steve’s hand until he was standing, too, and they got back into the car. Eddie played Hey, Jude on the drive back.

sorry this took so long (again)!! As you can tell, I have no schedule for posting I just write when I feel like it :D

thank you @an-atlas-or-other for being literally the best beta reader ever!! <3

Taglist:

@strangersteddierthings @aol19 @randombibitch @eddie-munsons-lunchbox @stillfullofshit @steventhusiast @estrellami-1 @jaytriesstuff @itsthestrangestthingsm @5ammi90 @absolutegremlin @txumxssianfox @goodolefashionedloverboi @hbyrde36 @tartarusknight @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @a-little-unsteddie @hornybunnybaby @beawritingbooks @askitwithflours

#Radio Star by Finn #Steve Harrington fic #steve Harrington #Eddie Munson fic #eddie munson #robin Buckley fic #robin Buckley #vickie stranger things #vickie x robin #eddie x steve #steve x eddie #Steddie #steddie fic #steddie fanfiction #Stranger things fanfiction #stranger things au #stranger things 90s au

104 notes · View notes