Chapter Text
“They say, best men are moulded out of faults;
And, for the most, become much more the better
For being a little bad:”
Measure for measure . Act 5, Scene1
Choices.
That’s what everything came down to in the end.
Eddie wasn’t proud of some of the choices he had made in his short, but eventful life.
Yet each and every one of his decisions had moved him closer to this moment, this fracture in time where he had to make a decision to leave the past in the past, or move on with the ghosts of his childhood coming back to haunt him.
The letters sat fat, stacked and unread on the coffee table. The Branchville Correctional Facility logo glared up at him from the bundle of manila, taunting him every time he set eyes on it.
Each and every envelope had been shoved into the hallway closet as they dropped through the mail box, out of sight until he could throw them away. But, like a bad penny, they kept showing up every few weeks, the pile slowly growing.
Wayne must have been retrieving them from the trash, his old man skirting around the dad-shaped elephant in the room. The subject that was never broached unless absolutely necessary.
If only the Munson men didn’t have emotional constipation. This whole thing wouldn’t be hanging over them like a silent killer, waiting for the moment to strike and cause maximum devastation.
Eddie was pretty sure when it all came crashing down it would be a critical blow; he wasn’t sure he was in the right state of mind to be dealing with it. Wasn’t sure he ever had been, or that he ever would be.
The phone in the kitchen rang in its cradle. He glared at it, waiting for it to stop its incessant ringing, knowing damn well who was on the other end of the line. It was like clockwork, every day. He wondered if Wayne answered when he was at home or if he too let it ring off.
He scooped the letters off the table as he passed, then dropped the letters in the outside trash can, hoping that this time the trash men might take them away before his uncle could retrieve them.
Hopefully a back shift at the garage would help him take his mind off things.
But somehow he doubted it.
Dustin came bearing cookies and a familiar brown envelope. He crunched across the pebbled drive, his bike abandoned against Eddie’s van, careful not to upset the flowers that Wayne had planted now that they had their own honest-to-god garden.
“Who do you know in jail?” Dustin asked, trying his hardest to glare through the paper to see the letter inside. He held it up to the sky as if attempting to get the weak autumn sun to show him the secrets held within.
Eddie snatched the envelope from his grip, shoving it in his back pocket as he ushered his protégé in through the front door.
“My dad,” he huffed, ignoring the look of interest that ignited in Dustin’s face.
“Your dad?” Dustin said, aiming for nonchalant and missing by a mile. God the kid needed to get a poker face.
“Yes, my dad,” Eddie grumbled. "Now did you come here to talk about my waste-of-space sperm donor or did you come here to work on your next campaign?”
“Campaign, obviously,” Dustin said, rolling his eyes. “But you know, if you ever want to talk about deadbeat dads, I’m kind of an expert.”
Eddie felt shit. It wasn’t like he wasn’t aware that Mr Henderson wasn’t on the scene, he just never thought to ask about it. Probably the same way most people avoided talking about Al Munson whenever Eddie was around. Avoidance therapy was still therapy, even if it wasn’t very effective.
It must be something in the water around Hawkins; bad parents were nothing but the norm. It was coming to something when Ted Wheeler was a solid example of good parenting.
Still he didn’t want to unload a lifetime of his dad’s stupidity onto Henderson. The little twerp didn’t deserve that, no matter how rude and irritating he was trying to be.
“Maybe one day, but not today… Today we have Asmodeus to write about in our adventure, and the king of the nine hells is a lot more interesting than my idiot father who couldn’t say no to a bad deal,” Eddie said, throwing his notebooks down on the kitchen table and spreading his stuff out in a way that he hoped indicated that was the end of the topic.
From the look on Dustin’s face, the subject was going to be benched for now. But Eddie knew better than to ever think that his little butthead ward was ever going to let go of anything so easily.
“Hey loser, you gonna answer that phone or what?” Max asked as she helped herself to a Dr Pepper from the fridge.
Eddie ignored her, picking up the receiver and dropping it back into the cradle with a clunk.
Not today, Satan.
Max leaned against the fridge, her soda in hand, dramatically ripping the tab free and flicking it at Eddie’s head. It bounced off his forehead and landed on the linoleum with a pathetic clink.
“Who are you avoiding? Bad date? Did you knock someone up and now they want child support? Is it a drug lord? Do you owe the mafia money?” Max fired off a tirade of questions that made Eddie regret the choice he had made when he had introduced so many teenagers into his social circle.
“My dad,” he grumbled, nudging his little red headed shadow out of the way so he could get in his own fridge. She wobbled on her feet slightly and Eddie felt a little bad, but not bad enough to apologise when he finally got his own drink.
He knew she wasn't going to let this go. She was as bad as Dustin when she got started.
But Max had more experience in how to get under an older sibling's skin.
“How do you know it was your dad?” Max asked, sipping on her soda and fixing him with a glare that could have been ripped right out of Nancy’s play book. God, even staring down Vecna hadn't been as intimidating as Max when she got her teeth into something.
He could try and fight the inevitable. But unlike Dustin, a bait and switch wouldn't work on Little Red. She was too street smart and way more switched on than any of the rest of the kids. She was also absolutely terrifying. She was getting too good at reading people and
shit like this she hoarded like precious treasure. The secrets she held were hers alone, to use as leverage later, maybe, but you knew it wasn't going anywhere.
Might as well hit her with the truth.
After all, with her dad behind bars Max was probably the closest thing he had to an ally in this world. She would undoubtedly understand the ability to predict who was on the other end of the call by the time of the day.
“It’s three o’clock, that means it's his allotted time on the phone,and he’s persistent. Being irritating is a family trait.” Eddie hopped up on the counter top, reaching up to open the window and let some of the autumn air move around the house. It wasn’t as easy to volt on to inanimate objects as it was before he had become a demonic chew toy. Something he stupidly forgot occasionally. Like now, when he was resoundingly stuck on the counter with no feasible way to get down. Something that Max clocked almost immediately.
“A family trait that you have in spades, but Uncle Wayne doesn’t?” Max asked as she held out her arm to help him back down from his perch.
“Give him time, once he finds the thing to get under your skin, it’ll get you too,” he said as he tipped the coffee grounds from the machine into the trash, just to have something to do with his hands. It helped hide his momentary embarrassment that Max had to help him and his stupid broken body when she wasn’t much better off herself. “That musty smell? His damn socks shoved on the pipes, like we don’t have a perfectly good dryer on the government's dime.”
“Don't try and change the subject,” Max warned.
“I'm not. I'm just saying, Al Munson doesn't get to decide if I talk to him or not. That's on me. And right now I can't deal with his over-inflated half-truths and fabricated, happy family bullshit.”
Max nodded like she understood. Maybe she did. Her and her mom didn’t exactly have the white picket fence life that America would make you believe was everyone's God-given right.
“You gotta face him some time.”
“Yeah well, maybe, but right now I’m happy to just not,” Eddie grumbled, turning his attention back to the stove where he was busy trying to remember how to put together the ingredients to his mom’s pot pie. “It’s been me and Wayne since I was little. I’m happy just the way things are.”
The huffed-off grumble that came from Max as she began to roll out the pastry on the counter told Eddie that she didn’t believe him, but thankfully she let the subject slide.
It didn’t stop her from slowly picking him apart with her judgmental eye though. Max missed nothing, she never had, sharp as a tack. It had only gotten worse since she had been relegated to bed rest.
With no skateboarding or sports to keep her active, she had taken to psychoanalyzing people, and she had gotten good at it.
He knew she wasn’t going to let this drop.
“You talked to Wayne about it?” She finally asked as Eddie slid the pie into the oven and turned his attention to setting the timer on the counter. If they timed this right the pie should come out of the oven just as his uncle got home from work. Eddie didn’t mind cooking for Max when her mom was at work, it was kind of nice to not be alone in the apartment. He just knew that she wasn’t likely to let this one slide.
“No, and I’m not going to either.” He pointed a warning finger at her. She just scoffed.. “So that means you and him can hold back on conspiring against me. I know what the two of you are like.”
“Fine, I won’t talk to Wayne,” Eddie could almost hear the silent ‘but’ that belonged at the end of that sentence. With Max, it was always just a matter of time. That hoard of knowledge had to be used at some time, or what was the point?
His little confrontation with Max hung heavy on his mind as he pulled his truck up outside Forest Hill’s fenced-off road. Steve was already waiting for him.
The beat up Beemer really needed to come into the shop, but Steve was still reluctant to let anyone touch it, the huge dent in the side a reminder of how the gallant car had saved him and Robin. Or at least that was what he told everyone.
Reality was Steve didn’t have all that much money and he refused to let his parents pay for the work. Other than the house, his parents had cut him off, and Eddie was pretty sure that this wasn’t going to be the thing that made him go back to them with his tail between legs.
“Who pissed in your Fruit Loops?” Steve asked as Eddie approached him, pulling his folded up spear from his bag and straightening the handle. Steve’s eyes tracked as he bolted the thing together with the contraption that Dustin had made. It was a lot less conspicuous if he could fold his weapons up and throw them in a bag. And it looked like a walking cane. Hopper was less likely to pull him off to the side of the road these days, but Callahan and the rest of the cattle were still likely to stereotype him at least once a month.
It wasn’t a secret what happened to them all when the world ended. But when Eddie was carrying around what could only be described as a pneumatic pile-driving spike, it was definitely towing the line of what was acceptable.
Not that Steve looked any less troubling, what with his spiked nail bat propped over his shoulder like a barbarian waiting for Eddie to roll for his instructions.
“Bad day. I am allowed to have them, ain't I?” Eddie asked as he waited for Steve to unlock the big metal gate that fenced off the trailer park from the rest of the world.
It wasn’t designed to keep things in, but it was doing a pretty good job of keeping things out.
Eddie and Steve were the exception to that rule, but only because Eddie had stolen the key to the front gate and handed it off to Steve to get cloned when one of the shady government officials had brought him and Wayne back to the park to see if there was anything they could salvage.
It wasn't that they didn't trust that it was all over, but something made the two of them come back here regularly to keep an eye on the hastily concreted hole.
They would head that way now, not that Eddie particularly liked visiting ground zero. Not when his mind was wound up tight and ready to implode on itself like it was now.
But Steve liked repetition, so into Mordor they would go. He really had to learn to say no to Harrington. And truth be told, he liked the alone time with Steve a little more than he would like to admit.
When he glanced to the side Steve was watching the overgrown treeline, but once his curiosity at the barely audible rustling subsided he turned his attention back to Eddie.
He couldn’t get used to Steve being concerned about him. About anyone but Wayne being concerned about him, to be honest. It was a concept that didn’t sit right with him.
He also didn’t like what it did to Steve’s handsome face. He much preferred the smiling version.
“You can have one bad day a year. Any more and I might have to take matters into my own hands,” Steve said as he pulled the gate closed behind them. Nobody really came out this way anymore. But just in case their cars drew suspicion and curiosity, Steve locked it too.
“The magical Harrington hands? Aren't you supposed to be discouraging me moping about? How could I resist such a threat? That sounds like an incentive.” Eddie joked as he fell into step at Steve's side.
“Yeah, yeah, keep it in your pants Munson. You're rolling a one for seduction, Dude.”
“Harsh.”
“The harshest. Someone has to keep you humble.”
“I miss Robin. She would have at least insulted me in Latin or something I couldn't understand,” Eddie muttered as he scanned the bushes.
The conversation moved on to Robin then. Both of them were missing her like a limb, Eddie not quite as much as Steve but it was almost a photo finish.
At least the detour on the conversation took them away from Steve poking at the Al Munson-shaped open wound that was festering in his chest, and that Steve had picked up on with Eddie's foul mood.
The worst of the cracks had started at the old trailer, and Eddie knew they had to search it every time. But it still didn't help with the haunting images that hung just behind his eyes.
He kept his eyes turned away from Max’s burned out trailer too.
Not seeing Max, but his mom sat on the front steps, the hazy ghosts of a lost childhood still present even if he didn't dare to look.
At some point he must have zoned out. Lost in thought. Steve tapping him to pass the flashlight was like a car crash in his senses. The world rushed back in. When did it get dark?
Steve looked worried again. He was going to get wrinkles if he kept scrunching his forehead up like that. Eddie couldn't have that fate be because of him.
“Where's yours?” Eddie asked as Steve shot the beam into the trees and a rabbit darted out.
“I didn't think it would get dark so fast.” Steve shrugged, nudging him back towards the gates. “We would have been back to the cars by now if you were paying a bit more attention.”
Eddie had been so fixated on the ghosts of his past that he hadn’t even realized that Steve had checked the two places he wanted to avoid without him even asking. Somehow he always knew when it was too much for him.
Steve didn’t have the same emotional attachment to the trailer park. That was all it was.
Eddie shrugged and trudged after Steve, dismantling his spear as he walked. Slightly disgruntled was better than worried when it came to the many expressions of Steve Harrington. At least this one was only making him purse his lips in that bitchy manner he had learned from Robs.
“You got places to be ? Or do you want to come over for pot pie?” Eddie asked while Steve locked up the gate.
Now the worst of Steve's expressions was plastered on his face. Disappointment.
“I can't, I got a thing with Henderson. Rain check ?”
“A convenient excuse for you to avoid my cooking yet again…” Eddie flapped his hand for Steve to give him back his flashlight. The eye roll was probably visible from space.
“Not an excuse, and I've eaten your cooking before, dude. You make a mean meatloaf, but unfortunately our first born is monopolising my time today,” Steve said as he locked up. “Trust me, I would rather be doing anything but going over his crisis about Suzie poo visiting.”
“Alright, I’ll let you have that one.” Eddie threw his weapons in the flatbed, making a show of putting the flashlight away. Steve shook his head as he threw his bat into the back of the Beamer.
“You sure there isn’t something up?” Steve tried one more time before he got in his ca.,
Eddie was glad it was getting dark, because the puppy dog eyes were one of his biggest weaknesses and Harrington wasn’t afraid to use them.
“A lot of stuff is up, sweetheart, but nothing for you to worry your pretty little head over, “ he waved Steve off and climbed into his truck.
Annoyingly, his friendship with Steve had reached a point where Eddie knew the other man wasn’t going to leave it. He would probably poke at it until something broke, and right now Eddie didn’t have it in him to look at anything that was bothering him unless it was an immediate clear and present danger.
He waited until Steve had his car door open before starting his own engine.
“Now, I must away to feed the Munson court. For the fair maiden Maxine has been left unattended, and I forgot to count how many beers we had in the fridge before I left.”
“I don’t think you need to worry about her getting into the beer, dude. She is more likely to be rummaging through your stuff for blackmail!” Steve shouted over the sound of the engine.
If only Steve knew how close to the truth he was. Eddie waited until Steve had turned back towards Loch Nora before he shifted out of park, his own final check, just like he would check in later to make sure Steve had made it back to that stupid empty house of his.
Eddie was just being a good friend, that was all.
“You going to talk to Al any time soon?” Wayne grumbled as he shoved the crust of his toast into the runny yolk of his egg, pushing it around the plate like a toddler trying finger food for the first time. And not for the first time, Eddie was left to wonder if the family really had been raised in a barn.
Max hadn’t said anything at dinner, but he had caught her and Wayne trading glances and raised eyebrows over the cans of soda they both drank like fish. All the same, Eddie hadn’t liked the way she had grinned at him as she headed off to go meet Lucas after his shift at Family Video.
He had been waiting for the other foot to drop since the door had closed behind her.
“You spoke to him?” Eddie asked, suddenly wishing he hadn’t filled his plate with quite so much breakfast.
“He called, day before yesterday. I was thinking I might drive down and see him.”
“Why? Is he dying?”
“No, but he is due to appeal soon. He’s reaching out, and I’m not the sort to carry a grudge.”
“Now that’s a lie,” Eddie muttered ‘round a mouth full of toast.
“I just think that sometimes we need to hear both sides of the story. I know my damn fool brother wasn’t the best role model–”
And wasn't that the understatement of the year.
“Wayne, he had me hot-wiring cars when I was six. He got me to shove money down my jeans when we got raided ‘cause he knew the cops wouldn’t search a minor. This is Indianna…I don't look like I got a roll of twenties for my birthday, no matter how much he tried to make out I did. And Hopper Sr. was not as easy to bat these puppy dog eyes at to get what I want as his son is.”
Wayne fixed him with that long gaze that could probably see the beginning of creation, and was enough to make most men freeze on the spot.
Eddie, however, had a good fifteen years under his belt of ignoring said gaze. Secretly he hoped he would be able to pull the same look when it came to his own kids, because for the first few years that thing had worked like a charm.
“I ain't saying you have to forgive him for his stupidity…”
“Good, ‘cause I won't,” Eddie grunted, cutting Wayne off and getting to his feet.
“Edward Munson, you listen here.”
Wayne didn't raise his voice. He never raised his voice, something his brother should probably have learned but never did.
“Al is my brother and we don't turn our backs on our own. If we did, I'd not have the son I have now.” He left that hanging in the air like a sword about to drop on Eddie’s head. Dramatic was also a family trait, one his uncle knew how to use to his own advantage. “You're better than that, Ed. I ain't forgiving him for what he did. But you would be a hypocrite if you didn't at least understand why he did what he did to make money. It ain't like he was using it to go out drinking and gambling, he was using it to keep a roof over both your heads.”
Eddie felt small under Wayne's gaze, like that eight year old that had been picked up from the police station all them years ago. Frightened and scared of the unknown.
With the innocent eyes of a child, he had believed his dad could do no wrong. Wondering how his Uncle Lonnie had gotten away from Chief Hopper, when he was the bad one not his pop.
As he had gotten older, he learned the world wasn’t separated into good and bad.But all the same, Wayne had managed to keep a roof over their heads in the same position without turning to grand theft auto, larceny and drug trafficking.
He hated that he had turned out even just a little bit like his father, even if it had helped him get the hell out of dodge when the entire town wanted his head on a stake.
Wayne was still staring at him like he was a lab experiment, two seconds away from being squashed and dissected.
“You don't have to like it, but Al made a choice to try and fix some of the hurt he caused. There's every chance that if he gets early release, he's gonna need somewhere to stay. I ain't turning him away if he lands on our doorstep. Munsons give second chances, boy. Always have. Maybe think about talking to your dad on the phone, or maybe come with me to–”
“He's not my dad,” Eddie said, grabbing his winter jacket from the hook. A low level anger ran through him that he was trying his best to push down. “He might be the sperm donor, but you raised me, not him.”
Wayne got to his feet to follow, and it almost looked like he was going to pull Eddie in for a hug. But right then, Eddie couldn't deal with that.
He wanted to punch something. He wanted to cry. Maybe both and neither of those things he could do in front of his uncle.
“I'm going to work and then I'm going out, don't wait up,” he snapped.
“Weather's too bad for you to be–”
“I said don't wait up, old man.”
Eddie slammed the door behind him. It didn’t make him feel any better. He yanked on his jacket and pulled his hood up, which did nothing to block out the vicious wind that almost took him off his feet.
He banged his head against the steering wheel in frustration when he climbed into his truck.
The possibility that his real dad could come back into his life hadn't really crossed his mind. Al was a distant afterthought, only good for filling in blank spaces on medical forms. Wayne couldn't possibly expect Eddie to… Urgh.
Sure, in the back of his head Eddie had known that his dad wouldn't be locked away forever. But he had expected him to drift slowly off into the night like a forgotten nightmare, not come crashing back into his life like an unwanted poltergeist, haunting him.
It wasn't fair.
It sounded like Wayne had been talking to him for a while, too. Why now? Had he always been in contact? Weekly catch ups over Eddie's numerous failings at life? His son being a wanted murderer would have given daddy dearest major credit behind bars. He probably wore it like a badge of honor.
It hurt.
It hurt, because if Wayne had been talking to his brother, that meant that Al knew a lot about Eddie. And in return Eddie knew nothing but bad things about his father.
Despite what Wayne said, his dad had liked a drink.
Never in front of Eddie, at least waiting until he was in bed, or across the way at his uncle's place. But he drank like a sailor.
It had all come rushing back to him as they had hid in Max’s trailer when he was a wanted man. Staring up at the dent that was still on the roof, where his dad had thrown an empty vodka bottle while he had been having a fight with God.
Al Munson had lots of fights with God. Cursing him out for taking away the love of his life and leaving him alone to raise her double.
Strangely enough, Eddie didn't do religion anymore. Couldn’t see how any god would do that to his dad, how any god would leave Wayne to pick up all the broken shards that the death of Edith Munson had left behind.
He reached work without even realizing he had started the car, driving on autopilot. He was also early. Thatch’s car wasn’t even parked up , the garage dark and nobody waiting to fill up at the pumps.
It wasn’t even eight yet. He was never early.
He cursed himself for his own stupidity as Wayne’s van pipped the horn at him while he passed on the way to the plant.
Eddie deliberately ignored it, tuning in the stereo to listen to the weather report.
It was going to be a long day.
************
Steve Harrington was not who Eddie thought he would find a friend in. A quiet sanctuary away from the chaos that was his life.
Yet, the blinding lights of Family Video welcomed him like a beacon.
Steve’s personality preceded him through the doors, a mix of bitchiness and sarcasm that warmed Eddie to the bone even as the wind whipped wildly around the carpark.. His earlier run-in with Wayne over his dad’s call was already a distant memory.
And that was all to do with the man with perfectly coiffed hair standing behind the counter.
Eddie stood outside the store and watched him for a few moments, the hood of his jacket holding back the worst of the bitter northern wind that beckoned the arrival of the dreaded Hawkins winter. Soon, it would be thick sweaters and knitted hats. Soon, Steve would be hanging up his polo shirts for the season and the ladies of Hawkins would be relegated to just having Wonder Boy’s ass to stare at in awe.
Said ass was currently trying to throw his back out by picking up the oversized delivery box. From the way Steve’s muscles flexed under his gray polo, it was obvious the box was heavy. The stupid idiot shouldn’t be trying to lift it on his own no matter how strong he was. Maybe one of these days he would actually lift from his knees.
But the weather had turned bad, and like the absolute hero he was, Steve would have sent Dustin or Lucas home early so they didn’t have to deal with the wind and the rain on their bikes or worse in either of their clapped out cars.
Sure enough when Eddie glanced over, the bike rack was vacant and the lot was empty.
Steve still hadn’t noticed him standing outside. He doubted anyone would even have been in the store in the last five hours.
They had even closed up the garage early. Nobody was coming in for any repairs in this weather. Not when they had to wait around in a cold drafty garage, or face the walk home in the bitter wind. They had been dispatched with a ‘stay by the phone in case of a call out’ and Eddie had dropped tools and scarpered.
Steve could, and should have, closed up Family Video hours ago: the perks of being the boss. But Eddie knew the alternative was Steve rattling around in that big old house of his all on his own, something that he avoided at every opportunity.
There was a reason that Castle Harrington was practically Eddie’s second home these days.
Eddie found himself holed up in Steve’s guest room at least twice a week, normally after one of their routine patrols of the trailer park. He told himself it was just because he couldn’t get used to living in the house the government had bought him and Wayne. That he had been under a trailer roof most of his life, and he found the suburban quite deafening.
Steve and him both pretended it wasn’t anything big.. Eddie had fallen into the space that used to be occupied by Robin before she went off to college to use that stupid big brain of hers for good instead of evil.
Knowing that Steve was asleep in the next room, even in his own version of suburban hell, made it bearable in a way Eddie didn’t want to look at too much.
There was a lot he didn’t want to look at too closely when it came to Steve.
He had enough to be dealing with: now being an ex-drug dealer, ex-accused murderer, ex-dead man…and now being hounded by his ex-dad.
He had a million and one things to juggle already in his head. Trying to decipher the strange swooping sensation he got sometimes when Steve looked at him in a certain way—like the first drop on a rollercoaster, or missing a step on a staircase you walk every day.
The way he had woken from dreams with the lingering taste of Steve on his lips. The way Steve would say his name first thing in the morning, all deep with sleep and warm like that first sip from the coffee he would press into Eddie’s hand with a honeyed smile on his sleepy face.
Yeah, that was the thing that Eddie wasn’t going to look at.
Eddie wasn’t into guys.
He could be into Steve though.
That was a scary thought.
A thought that hadn’t been far from the front of his mind since Steve had come back from his epic road trip, dropping his other half off at college in Boston. Since he came back with a new revelation. One he had shared with Eddie late one night over whisky and Whitesnake.
Steve was bisexual.
Eddie had heard the phrase before, but only in passing. Something mentioned in the pages of magazines when they talked about Bowie and Mercury.
Steve had been patient with him as he explained, both of them giggling like toddlers because of the weed. That he really liked ladies’ boobies… but he was also attracted to men's boobies…
It left no doubt in Eddie’s mind that Robin had helped him practice that little speech.
It hadn’t changed anything between them, Eddie kept telling himself.
Only it had.
He couldn’t stand out in the wind and rain looking like a creep for much longer. No matter how much he was enjoying the vision of Steve in a green vest as he accidentally kicked a cardboard box behind the counter and spilled half the tapes all over the floor.
Eddie let Steve pick some of his chaos up before pushing his way inside.
“Family Video how can I …oh hey, Eds, what's your poison?” Steve said, dropping the false persona, realizing who it was as soon as Eddie pushed back his hood.
“Anything good come in on the last delivery?” Eddie asked, shaking out his hair and shoving his jacket on the coat hook in the office—the ‘Out of Bounds’ sign having not really applied to him since Steve had taken over the role of manager.
“Depends on what you fancy for your late-night gore fest. I have it on good authority,” He waved the video guide in the air. “that within these tiny, plastic time capsules of whimsy we have such earthly delights as…”
He ducked behind the counter, no doubt rummaging through the gargantuan cardboard box he had been struggling with earlier. He popped back up, waving a tape in one hand.
“Night Feeder… this one seems right up your alley, It’s about punks–”
“Not a punk.”
“--and rock music, and a hard hitting journalist who just can't resist a bad boy…” Steve said with a wiggle of his eyebrows. He turned the tape toward himself. “I mean the plot twist is spoiled by the cover… but when your monster of the week is a zombie mutant serial killer baby, the target audience isn’t going to be the brightest in the tool box.”
Steve was mixing up his euphemisms, in that adorable way that made Eddie ecstatic and drove Robin to despair. He’d heard of the movie, but had to see the cover for himself.
Eddie did gimmie gimmie hands as he jumped up on the counter, and Steve was quick to shove the video tape into his hand. And sure enough, there was the aforementioned zombie baby serial killer, chowing down on an unfortunate lady victim.
“Jeff said the baby isn’t even in it for five seconds,” Eddie said as he turned the thing over in his hands to look at the blurb. “Special effects are supposed to be good though. So it’s a maybe.” He started a pile next to him on the counter. "Next?”
Steve nodded sagely, licked his finger like some sort of snotty librarian, and started flicking through the contents of the video guide. After a few moments, he seemed to find something that interested him, smiling and eyes squinting down at the page. Eddie was going to have to team up with Robin and bully the man into going to the eye doctor sooner rather than later.
“I offer you… Cannibal Campout?” He rummaged through the box until he found the tape he was looking for. Eddie tried not to stare at the strip of skin flashing between the top of his jeans and his ridden-up polo. If Steve caught him when he reemerged though, he didn’t make comment. “It’s hillbillies, and I bet you can’t guess the rest.”
“A documentary of the Munson family homestead. Let’s guess, some helpless couples get murdered and eaten in bum fuck nowhere? Probably right after fucking nasty in the wild, cause as we all know, sex kills…ah yes, tits and vocal cords,” Eddie said, taking the box he was handed, and eyeing the woman with a sheer shirt on, perky nipples revealed to the world while her throat was ripped out by one of the aforementioned Cannibals.
“It was definitely hotter when you did that to a demo bat. I think we might just skip that one,” he said, handing Steve back the tape.
“My tits are better too,” Steve joked, flexing and striking a pose as he dropped the tape back into the box.
Eddie wasn’t going to admit that he agreed, at least not out loud. That strange feeling he got when he was around Steve these days was getting too much to ignore, especially when Steve was goofing off like this, all his walls down and his real personality out on show for just Eddie to see.
“Yeah yeah, whatever. What else have you got, He-Man?”
Steve dove into the box again, this time shimmying his hips as he bent over.
Eddie would have thought that he was doing it deliberately, like Steve had seen right into Eddie’s sordid inner thoughts and liked what he saw.
He wasn’t that lucky.
“This one’s coming home with me tonight.” Steve threw another case his way as he straightened up.
“A cat has nine lives, you only have one,” Eddie read aloud from the cover that pictured a black cat screaming into the void over a boat. Definitely eye-catching. “So…what are we talking about? Pet cemetery? Re-animated pets?”
“I’ll give you that, and raise you genetically mutated, lab experiment cats go rogue on a boat and kill people,” Steve said in his best horror host voice, wiggling his hands as he marched menacingly towards Eddie— a level of theatrics that Eddie liked to think Steve had learned from him.
“El, if she was a cat,” Eddie reasoned.
“I was thinking more of a demodog kind of scenario.” Steve shrugged. “And as much as you would think I would be over that whole thing… I still sort of want to see Mr. Mittens go on a murder spree.”
He moved dangerously close, and wasn’t there, like, rules about how close guys should be in public? Yeah, alright Eddie hadn’t ever been one to respect boundaries, but being on the receiving end of the space invasion was something he still couldn’t get used to.
“Dustin would a hundred percent try and pet the killer kitty,” Eddie said as Steve placed his head on his shoulder and reached round to put a hand on the tape in Eddie’s grasp.
“So would his mother,” Eddie added, turning his head.
Steve was so close that Eddie could almost taste his aftershave, feel Steve’s hair tickling at his neck and his breath grazing his cheek.
Steve really liked eye contact, and this close it was like being examined under a microscope, making Eddie’s insides itch. He felt like Steve was trying to communicate with him in that strange way he and Robin shared. Hazel eyes boring into his own.
It felt too loaded to be just two guys talking about their friend's pet cat.
“Mews Two could have been patient zero, that thing hates me.” complained Steve, grabbing the video tape and peeling himself off Eddie with a put upon sigh. “You would think the little shit would appreciate the man who brings him tuna, yet here we are…” He shrugged and dropped the case on top of Night Feeder. “But I’m stealing this one tonight so if you want to see how well this pussy kills, you gotta come hang at my place.”
“You are quite literally the manager Stevie, you’re stealing from nobody but yourself,” Eddie pointed out as he added some microwave popcorn to the pile and a box of Milk Duds.
Answering Steve’s unasked question with his petty theft of the candy shelf.
“I'm stealing from Big Video, shoving it to the man. Infiltrating the corporate hierarchy from the inside.” Steve waved Eddie off to push the box of tapes towards the back room.
Eddie jumped down from the counter, scolding Steve with a look and grabbing the other side of the box before Steve really did pull his back out. The eye roll he got in thanks was on par with Lady Applejack's finest work.
“I should report you for unsafe work practices,” Eddie muttered as they bumped through the doorway.
“Yeah, yeah, blame the little guy,” Steve complained, but Eddie heard the little ‘humph’ of pain as they set the box down and noticed how Steve still refused to bend from the knee. He tried to play it off by going into a tirade.“You can’t report me, you will blow my carefully structured coup, taking down Family Video and redistributing the wealth.”
“Okay, can we check that Robin hasn’t died in some freak accident over on campus because I'm pretty sure she’s trying to communicate through you. Are you a medium?” Eddie teased.
“Extra large,” Steve said with a wink.
And this was another thing. The flirting, Jesus Christ, the flirting. Steve was worse whenever they were alone, but he rarely did it in front of the kids. Eddie wasn’t sure how to interpret that, and to be fair, it wasn’t helping with the new found feelings churning around in his chest at the best of times.
“Size only matters if you know what to do with it big boy,” Eddie said, unable to stop himself from flirting back. Despite his better judgment.
“Never had any complaints,” Steve said nonchalantly. “I mean, it’s not like you ask for an evaluation after, is it?”
“I dunno, Molly Scott gave me a glowing five star review on the bathroom wall at the Hideout. Maybe you aren't as good as you think you are, lover boy?”
Eddie kicked himself mentally for saying something that would make it weird between them.
What the hell was wrong with him? Why was he going down this line of conversation? They never talked about past conquests. That wasn’t the kind of conversation the two of them had. For Eddie’s sanity, at the very least.
“Should I ask her for a personal statement?” Steve asked, a hint of a flush on his face that Eddie was determined to attribute to lugging a stupidly oversized box about, and not the current subject matter. “Maybe get a letter of recommendation?”
“Why? You got a position for me?” Eddie wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. “I don't take well to being under someone.”
Steve's cheeks flushed darker.
So no, it wasn't just the physical labor. Eddie was having an effect on him. He filed that away under interesting, something to look at later.
“Whatever, man, should we lock up and get out of here? The wind is getting worse.” Steve grabbed their jackets from the hooks and threw Eddie's at his head.
Eddie complained with a grunt, expecting Steve to at least attempt a witty retort. But whatever was going through Steve's mind must really have thrown him, because the guy couldn't even make eye contact.
It was kind of endearing, and Eddie couldn’t say that Steve being a little nervous and flustered wasn’t doing wonders for his ego.
Eddie wasn't into dudes, he really wasn't.
Although he wasn’t sure who he was trying to convince anymore.
Whatever that shit was floating about in the Upside Down, the floaty white shit, he was sure it had permanently altered his DNA. Maybe he had caught interdimensional time-rift rabies from becoming a Demobat chew toy—but ever since he watched Steve rip that bat apart with his bare hands, he hadn’t been able to think about anything else.
Maybe he was only into Steve?
He kept running the math, and yeah, he wasn’t great at the whole equation thing when he was away from the rough and tumble of the game board. But he knew that two and two, most of the time, make four.
Ever since that first run in with the Upside Down, the back and forth between him and Steve had been the adult white male equivalent of pulling pigtails in the school yard. And just as much as he wanted to pull Steve to him, he wanted to push him away in equal measure.
It had been bad enough he had tried to push the man back towards Nancy in a blind panic, self sabotage, or stupidity. He still wasn't sure.
He had hoped that the strange pull, that basic urge to kiss the other man, would fade after they weren't living through the end of the world.
But then…
But then he had gotten to know the real Steve Harrington.
And shit, nobody could survive that. He was weak. But he wasn't stupid.
“If you behave, I have an extra special present for you.” Steve said, pulling something from behind the counter as he flipped off the lights.
“I can be a good boy.” Eddie’s suggestive eyebrow raise was lost on Steve, now that the store had been plunged into nothing but the emergency lighting.
“Yeah, I’m sure you can.” Steve slid something else into his bag as they headed for the door. “We should take your truck, my car isn’t gonna be good in this wind,” he said, flipping the open sign to close.
“In that case, your chariot awaits, sir,” Eddie said with a bow, stepping out into the night.
The wind was so strong that it instantly whipped his hair around his face with vicious force.
Steve, without breaking stride or even having to look, handed over the hair tie from his wrist.
Yet again, Eddie was left to wonder why he was so worried about the way he felt. You would have to have a heart of stone not to fall a little bit in love with Steve Harrington.
The danger was he might not have it in him to love you back.
“Yeah, I think this is going to get worse before it gets better,” Steve said, shaking his head so the leaves fell from his hair into a mess on the hallway floor. Not that Eddie was faring much better, but at least he hadn’t shaken his head like an overgrown lap dog as soon as he walked through the door.
The wind had picked up even more, whipping around the house, and Steve was right that his car would never have made it. Eddie’s flat bed had almost blown out of his control twice on the short drive and, if they had taken the Beemer it would have been wrapped around one, maybe two, trees by now.
The rain was coming in sideways , soaking both of them, while the trees outside Steve’s had teamed up with the rain to throw vicious, deadly projectiles that had been hard to dodge in the short run from the truck to the door.
Eddie didn’t even question it when Steve directed him up to his room, being second nature now. He questioned it even less when Steve threw a pair of sweats and one of his worn down shirts in Eddie’s general direction. They both changed quietly, way past the awkward semi-nakedness stage in their friendship, after being in the same hospital room for so long that decency was a foreign concept.
Still, Eddie’s eyes wandered. Steve was the easiest of the worries in his life to deal with.
Steve looked soft and cozy in his pj’s as he bundled Eddie’s stuff into the washing basket, and Eddie followed throughout the house, without a word passed between the two of them.
Steve filled the washing machine as Eddie gazed out across the pool. The rain had already caused it to fill so much it pooled over the decking, light fighting hard to stay on, as the wind and the rain battered the world outside.
“You got a generator in this palace of yours?” Eddie asked, watching one of the trees at the bottom of the yard almost bend in half with the power of the wind. “Because I'm not sure how long the power’s going to hold out.”
“No generator, but thanks to Dustin and his meticulous insistence that I always have a damn flashlight, I have a pretty substantial collection of the things stashed about the place.”
“You actually own a flashlight? This doesn’t seem to match up with what I know about you as a person, Harrington.”
“Yeah, well, occasionally the nagging sticks,” Steve said, reaching up to pull a duffle bag from above the washing machine, the metallic clink of something clashing together rattling through the quiet of the house.
He shoved it towards Eddie with an unamused look on his face. “Emergency kit. Got one here, one in my room, one in the trunk and one in the pool house. Flashlight, first aid kit, spare batteries, map, compass, tinned food, and a mixtape of everyone's favorite songs. There's also one hidden in the loose ceiling tile in the breakroom at work. But because of your lack of faith in me, you don’t get to watch your present. Maniac Cop can just go back to the shop. I might not even let you watch the killer pussy. Pretty sure that Robin left The Breakfast Club in the machi–”
“Stevie, you wouldn’t—you wouldn’t wound me that way.” Eddie trailed after Steve as he walked towards the living room, making an attempt to grab the tape from him, begging. “I’m sorry Sweetheart, don’t withhold Bruce Campbell from me, that’s just downright mean.”
Steve held the tape just out of Eddie’s reach, that half an inch height difference being used for evil. Eddie jumped at it as Steve backed his way towards the TV, inevitably banging his legs against the back of the sofa when he wasn’t paying attention.
Eddie used Steve’s stumble to his advantage, wrestling his way into Steve’s space and bending over him to try and grab the case.
“I don’t think you deserve the chiseled perfection of that man’s chin. I find your lack of faith disturbing,” Steve complained when Eddie pinned him down.
“And now he quotes Vader at me? What do I have to do to show you my loyalty, dark one? A baggy and a blow job? Will that buy me out of having to sit through a joyous coming of age movie?” He grinned down at Steve, before realising just exactly how compromising the position he had backed them into was. He was all but stradling Steve over the back of the sofa.
Although Steve didn’t seem to mind. He seemed happy with the situation even, if the way he was gripping Eddie’s hip and pulling him in with his free hand was any indication.
“I mean, I was happy to accept an apology, not a proposition.” Steve smirked, the tips of his ears turning red. Eddie wasn't going to pretend he didn't like the way it looked “But it’s never that simple with you, is it Munson? I don’t know why anything you do is a surprise anymore.”
“I am a man of many mysteries. But my love of Bruce Campbell is not one of them.” Eddie sighed wistfully. If he stayed in this position too long he might not be able to contain himself.
It would be too easy to lean in, test that strange feeling that hung heavy between the two of them whenever they got themselves into situations like this. He was sure that was just going to lead to a mistake that he couldn’t back out from.
“Sorry for doubting you, oh Master of Evil, now can we please watch the video?” he asked, swinging himself off Steve's lap.
It was a mistake looking back at Steve. He looked disappointed. Worse than that … he looked rejected.
Somehow knowing that there was a smidgen of a chance that Steve liked him back made everything much more real and twice as difficult to deal with.
Eddie had seen how hard it had been for Robin living in bum fuck nowhere. She was happy now, out in the big city where she didn't have to hide who she was or what she was. Well, not as much as in good old Hawkins.
He didn't want Steve to have to hide his light just so he could be with the town freak. Not when he could have his pick of women, make his own life easier.
Didn't matter what Eddie's own heart wanted, it wasn't fair to snuff out Steve's flame to feed his own. Eddie was damaged goods and right now his worth was diminished by the weight of his past heavy on his shoulders.
He couldn't cross that line with Steve no matter how much he wanted too. But he also couldn't deal with Steve looking so defeated.
“Yeah, course…I'll just…” Steve shuffled off towards the VCR looking like a kicked puppy. Guilt at leading Steve on joined the heavy burden settling on Eddie's shoulders.
“Steve…” Eddie wasn't sure what he was going to say, what words he could use to make this right, so his words fell off into nothingness.
“It's fine, Eds. Let's just watch the movie, yeah ?”
Steve was just about to push play on the VCR when the lights started to flicker, blinking on and off a few times. Instantly both of them were alert. Eddie saw Steve step towards the hallway closet where he stored his bat, just as the lights flickered out completely.
By the time that Eddie had fumbled and found the flashlight in the bag that Steve had thrown at him, Steve had already retrieved a second bag and his bat from the hallway closet. The beam of the flashlight zoned in and found Eddie in the dark.
“I know it’s just a storm, but…”
“Come on Stevie, let's do a perimeter check and grab the walkies. You got a normal radio somewhere? We should probably check the emergency broadcast, too, because we might be two seconds away from becoming friends with Dorothy.”
“Bit late for that, but lead the way…” Steve whispered, pointing them back towards the stairs.
“What? You can’t tell me you already got swept up in a tornado? Or was that some other supernatural bullshit? Am I allowed to call myself that? ” Eddie hissed back as he watched Steve slowly make his way up the steps, his head slowly following the well rehearsed sweeping motion of the flashlight as Steve scouted ahead. Eddie followed a few steps after, his own flashlight watching behind them.
“You aren't a friend of Dorothy, Eds. I’m not that lucky,” Steve threw over his shoulder as a crack of thunder made them both jump.
The pain was clear in Steve's voice. But Steve was the master of hiding it behind the barbarian exterior he had perfected over the last several years. Eddie wasn’t sure what he had said to upset Steve even more, but he knew that as soon as he got a chance, he was going to ask Robin.
Eddie froze on the steps, lost in thought and Steve must have noticed, his flashlight swinging to fall on Eddie's face. Eddie was pretty sure that everything he was feeling must be plastered all over it. But he couldn't see Steve's face whilst he was blinded by the flashlight pointed straight at him.
All he knew was that he hated Steve being upset about most things, but he hated it even more when it was his fault. It wasn’t fair for him to suck Steve into his confusion, no matter how much he might be falling for him.
Maybe he should say something. Maybe he should tell him, tell him that he liked guys at least, and gauge his reaction.
“Steve, can we talk abo–”
Eddie was cut off by a huge crash above them and they both ran towards the danger, like the predetermined idiotic heroes they both were.
Maybe in the middle of a hurricane wasn’t the best time for a heart-to-heart.
He was pretty sure having an exit plan was on the Munson doctrine, but it was pretty hard to escape when tree limbs were blowing around in the wind like missiles in the night.
So, for now, he followed Steve towards the mystery, his revelation a problem for future Eddie.
************
The candles flickered in their holders as the embers in the fireplace burned down low. Each and every one of the Hawkins-based party had been reached by walkie. Including Wayne. If Eddie wasn't still gently simmering in his own rage at his uncle, he might have been more inclined to pass comment on why Wayne had been at the Henderson’s place for the third night this week.
Wayne was a full grown-ass man. If he wanted to seek out sins of the flesh with Dustin's mom, Eddie had no horse in that race. But from the pissed off tone in Dustin’s voice when he checked in, Eddie was sure that was just something else that was going to come to a head sooner than later.
Something else for him to add to his list of things that were stressing him out.
On the plus side, Steve had relaxed now he knew everybody was safe, even if the earlier strangeness between them was hanging around like a third wheel.
The crash in the night had just been a stray branch going through the guest room window, and not the souls of the damned coming back to get revenge. It was temporarily solved with a plank of wood through the shutters, enough to keep out the rain..
Sometimes a storm was just a storm.
They’d tuned the radio to the emergency station, repeatedly being told, ‘Tornado warnings, shelter in place.’ It droned on quietly in the background, a constant companion as the wind and the rain ripped violently around the house.
Eddie was glad he had decided to go to Family Video, and even more that he had decided to take Steve up on his illegally pilfered video marathon. Even if the storm had halted it before it had a chance to begin.
The idea of Steve being alone in this cavernous house on his own didn’t sit well with him. And Eddie just knew that if they hadn’t hunkered down together, as soon as the power had blinked out, one of them would have broken curfew and traveled through the storm to the other.
That was just what they did now. There were just some things you couldn’t face alone.
It was that time of night that wasn’t quite yet tomorrow. Quiet voices, everything sounding like a huge secret as words were exchanged in hushed tones, so as not to wake the people who had drifted off to slumber.
Didn’t matter that they were alone, this was time for stillness. Something Eddie was sure he only managed when Steve was at his side.
They both sat on either side of the world's most uncomfortable couch, the cards that had charted the rise and fall of Steve’s Go Fish domination now forgotten, scattered on the cream cushions.
Steve stretched out, nudging Eddie’s knee with his foot to get his attention.
“You going to tell me?” he asked in his hushed tone.
“Tell you what?” Eddie asked cautiously, aware that there was a lot to cover with that one question. The obvious being the weird ‘thing’ that was happening between the two of them.
“What’s got you so uptight? Why are Wayne and Max worried about you?” Steve asked kindly, shuffling closer and knocking the cards to the floor.
So Max the little traitor had run to Steve with her guarded secret. He had known he couldn’t trust that innocent smile.
“You've been talking behind my back?”
“They wanted to know if you had said anything to me . They’re worried about you. Wayne says your dad–”
“Is trying to push his way back into my life? Yeah, yeah he is,” Eddie huffed, too caught up in the stillness to get angry at the man who had now reached out into his space to offer up reassurance. Even if he was picking at a scab that refused to heal.
“So what are you going to do about it?” Steve asked quietly, watching him.
Eddie hated that feeling of being seen when Steve studied him like that. Hated feeling like someone else might actually understand what it felt like to see beneath his prickly exterior.
Eddie didn’t trust. A choice he made when he was twelve years old.
Other than Wayne, he wouldn’t have ever let anyone else in if it hadn’t been for the Upside Down, he knew himself well enough for that. But Eddie trusted Steve.
Ever since they had been thrown into each other's orbit, Steve had proven himself again and again.
It was hard not to trust someone you were almost sure you were head over ass in love with.
“I want to let him back in, but…” Eddie rubbed his face with his hands, trying to push the words back in; stop them from being spoken into the world like a manifestation of the small child's hopes and dreams that he kept locked away in his chest.
It was too late though. Steve had heard it, Eddie knew he had, and he could almost see the look on Steve’s stupid handsome face even with his eyes closed.
“But you're scared that he’s going to just disappoint you again?” Steve asked quietly.
The storm raging outside was a pale comparison to the one raging inside Eddie. But he wasn’t going to let it escape, not in this moment of calm, this sanctuary that Steve and Eddie had found.
“You just don’t stop caring about them, you know?” Eddie whispered, dropping his hands from his face into his lap. Steve’s fingers crept across his own, reassuring him, encouraging him to go on. “He didn’t always used to be… he used to be a good dad, before mom got sick… before she was…”
Shaking his head and opening his eyes, he found Steve watching him, hanging on his words, listening to him in a way nobody but Wayne ever did.
He was safe here. He could talk about it
“Before she was dying,” Eddie finished “Then he changed. He changed so much, you know?”
Steve couldn’t actually know, he hadn’t known Eddie back then, a patch of woodland as an impenetrable fortress between the trailer park and the rich folk. Two different worlds. But back then his dad had been so full of life, the man his mother had loved.
Steve moved closer on the sofa, pulling the blanket down from the back to wrap it around the two of them. An extra layer hiding them from the world outside.
“Dad was in a band you know? Everyone assumes I learned to play the guitar because of mom, ‘cause she was like some amazing musician. But dad was the one who gave me his old guitar when I was small. You've seen the photo on Wayne's table?” he asked as Steve found his hand again under the blanket, the gentle feeling of Steve's thumb rubbing the back of his hand grounding him.
Steve nodded. Eddie had caught Steve staring at the photo on the side table next to Wayne's favourite chair more than once. In it, Eddie must have only been about five, sitting on a faceless man's knee, cradling a guitar that was several times too big for him, eyes wide and fingers in all the wrong places. His mom sat on the floor next to him, her chin resting on her folded arms as she leaned on the sofa, mid-song.
It was the only trace of Al Munson other than himself that Eddie would allow in the house.
“Dad loved to play, at least when I was a kid. My mom would tease him constantly for making up songs on the fly whenever I was sad to cheer me up . But the trailer was always full of music and chaos, because dad just didn't know how to sit still. He was just a kid himself, you know? He was younger than me now, I mean, that's what Hawkins does to you if you don't escape, you know? It ties you down. Mom was only twenty-one when she had me. My dad told me it was the result of too much tequila and bad rubber. I'm the ultimate accident.” Eddie tried not to get mad, let the comfort and the stillness of their little sanctuary wash over him. But it was no use. The dam was broken.
“I was a mistake. Dad didn't hold back in telling me that when mom died. It ripped his heart in two, and he took it out on me. She didn't deserve to be stuck in this shithole of a town, she dropped her college course and her music career to have me. Gave up her hopes and dreams to be a mom and live in a trailer park. She had been so sure of herself and what she wanted in life and I fucked that all up, Dad fucked it all up. And I take after him. He never had a plan, and when it all fell apart he just fucked it up even more. My mom knew what she wanted from when she was a kid, and then poof,” He waved his free hand in the air as if releasing something. “She hit nineteen and met my dad and it all went up in smoke. Know what I was doing when I was nineteen Steve? Retaking my senior year and selling weed under the bleachers. I was born a mistake and a mistake I remain.”
Somehow Steve managed to move closer, pressing in all the way along Eddie's side, his fingers now twisting to wrap between Eddie's own, grasping so tight that his rings nipped at the flesh as they pressed together. It was almost enough to shake Eddie from his pity party.
“You were not a mistake.”
“It's sweet of you to say that Stevie, but I'm the one who's been living this life for the last twenty-three years. I’m just one mistake after another until I go and make the mistake that finally finishes me off.”
“I don't think you're a mistake.” Steve was doubling down, he practically growled at Eddie as he lent further into his space. Steve was almost stealing Eddie's breath on the exhale.His gaze was intense in the flickering light of the fireplace, holding and pinning Eddie in place no matter how much he wanted to run.
It was enough to make Eddie freeze again.
Steve looked angry, angry in a way Eddie hadn’t seen since the end of the world.
“Would you call me a mistake?” Steve asked him, sincerity dripping from every word. He didn’t wait for Eddie to answer, although Eddie wasn’t sure he was supposed to.
“The only reason I exist is ‘cause dad was fucking the secretary.” This wasn’t news to Eddie, he had heard this before, mentioned once to explain why his parents weren’t in the house ninety percent of the time.
“Mom got knocked up to keep him around. I was a last ditch attempt to keep the Harrington dynasty together. My Grandmother would die rather than have the shame of a child of divorce carrying on the family name. My mother knew that by having me she was safe and sound until the old bag snuffed it, at least.” A disparaging laugh punctuated the confession and Steve tipped his head as if talking to a god that neither of them believed in.
“Now my mom is just miserable, following my waste-of-space dad around like a shadow to make sure he doesn't stray again.” Steve was throwing his free hand around to emphasize the point, knocking the blanket from his shoulders. On instinct, Eddie reached out to pull it tight again around his shoulders.
Steve's face was just as tortured as Eddie’s heart felt. They didn’t really talk about their parents, and now that Steve was, Eddie was acutely aware why they danced around the subject.
“Your mom loves you dude,” Eddie said weakly.
“She loves me, but she doesn't want me. Never did.” Steve’s voice wobbled, almost as if it was the first time he had said it out loud. “She didn't want kids, she wanted a career and to escape Hawkins just as much as anyone else. My mom and dad are big time architects and what am I? A slave to Big Video. An embarrassment to the Harrington name.” Steve seemed to lose a little steam at that statement, sinking back into the warmth of the shared blanket.
“I wish my dad gave a shit but he doesn’t, and I've tried to get through to him, make him like me. I tried so damn hard Eddie. But he just doesn't want to know.” Steve sniffed, evidently sitting on a lot of shit too. Now it seemed to be bubbling to the surface.
Eddie squeezed his hand back, and Steve gave a weak chuckle.
“He’s only going to hate me so much more when I tell him…” Steve closed his eyes and bit on his lip, biting back whatever he was about to say.
“When you tell him what?” Eddie asked quietly, aware of just how much Steve was trembling.
Steve shook his head once. Whatever it was, it wasn’t for now, not in their place of safety from the raging storm.
They sat in silence listening to the storm rattling around the house, reminding them both of just how small they were in the grand scheme of things. Even if they had saved their little town, maybe the world, things like a storm still went on.
Slowly Steve sank further into Eddie’s side, seeking out the same safety that Eddie found in him.
“I’m sorry if I hit a sore spot, sweetheart.” Eddie muttered into Steve’s hair, as his breathing steadied and ease seemed to fall upon the younger man.
“Me and Wayne are just worried about you,” Steve said sleepily, the anger having ebbed into something softer. “You aren't a mistake Eds, Wayne…the kids…e…we all love you just the way you are.” Steve turned his head to look at him from where he had buried himself in the blankets and the crook of Eddie’s shoulder. “Think about it, talking to your dad. I wouldn’t say he was a lost cause…just lost. Trust me, I know all about making stupid choices fueled by heartache and rage. How else do you think I got pulled into all this upside down bullshit in the first place?”
“But what if he hurts me again?”
“Then you have me, and you have Robin. You have Wayne and the kids. I’d give anything for my dad to want to try. The fact that your dad wants to is a good thing Eddie.”
“But what if it’s not?”
“But what if it is? ” Steve countered through a yawn.
This was the point where they would normally part ways: Eddie to the guest room and Steve to his checkered monstrosity of a bedroom. But from the way Steve was becoming heavier and heavier against his side, Eddie was under no illusion that tonight the two of them were staying put.
He pulled the blanket tighter around them both, and Steve muttered a sleepy ‘thank you’ as he honest to god snuggled into Eddie's side.
Eddie placed a tentative arm around Steve's shoulder, letting the younger man get more comfortable on the stupidly uncomfortable couch.
They never slept in the same room anymore, not since they had left the hospital, and Eddie had forgotten how much younger Steve looked when he slept. He hadn't ever seen it this close up though, never with Steve wrapped in his arms.
His traitorous heart was beating so fast, but with the raging storm, and the way Steve pressed him into the sofa, he had no chance of running away.
He was finding more and more that he didn't want to