Archive of Our Own

Steve Harrington was confused—Okay. He usually was, but this was different. How anyone could stomach a pineapple pizza or not absolutely grimace at the idea of pruney fingers were things he used to think about while he was supposed to be studying. Now? He hadn't expected he'd find himself fighting the same interdimensional monsters a year later, or befriending the likes of Dustin Henderson and his crew of weird, intelligent little friends, no matter how well they got along, or how he was pretty sure Nancy Wheeler had a thing for Jonathan Byers but he couldn't be too sure—it wasn't his business anyways. That ship had long since sailed and he was happy for her—He was. Still. Sometimes, late at night, when the hallways, hollow and void of any emotion, were overbearing, he wished he had someone he could go to—someone who understood. Very few understood just how bad the nightmares were getting—how he'd wake up in a cold sweat, blankets twisted at the foot of his bed, shaking and out of breath because he'd seen one of those creatures, with their sharp, rigged rows of teeth, in his backyard, or Barbara Holland with her cold, lifeless body at the bottom of his pool—it was all fucked up. All of it. 

School, which had once been 'King Steve's' domain, was now his least favorite place on Earth. He was barely getting any sleep and his grades were slipping. He knew his teachers were beginning to worry but Steve couldn't find it in himself to care—especially when there were more pressing matters at hand—like how his hands never seemed to stop shaking. Speaking of, he'd been meeting with Ms. Kelley since school resumed after Winter break and while he hadn't exactly gone into deal, he'd let her know about the nightmares and how, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't stay asleep. 

"So," Her pen clicks. Annoyingly, Steve notes. "The nightmares haven't stopped and," She glances at the file resting on her desk. "You've been feeling anxious?" 

He nods. That was what he'd told her last week. Steve shifts in his chair uncomfortably. He hates being put on the spot. 

"What you're going through is normal, Steve. I don't want you to think this isn't something we can't work through together." Ms. Kelley offers him a smile he doesn't reciprocate. As much as he wants to believe her, she hadn't jumped like he had when the door across the hall abruptly slammed shut. Steve wasn't sure how he'd be able to work through this whole .. ordeal .. if he couldn't exactly tell her why he kept having nightmares. He sighed, running a clammy hand through his hair. 

"Lots of young adults your age are anxious, Steve—SATs are approaching us faster than we'd like, and so is graduation. Speaking of, have you looked through any of those pamphlets I slipped into your locker?" The truth was, he hadn't. In fact, Steve had seen the big, bubbled letters and promptly threw them in the trash. The very thought of growing up— officially growing up—scared him. Steve liked the bubble he was in, even if it wasn't very safe anymore. He hadn't planned on going to College, if he was being honest. He'd need to be here if anything else happened. He couldn't leave Dustin or the kids or Nancy behind. Realistically, he knew how easy it would be to pack everything he cared about and book it—never looking back. That's why it scared him. 

"Yeah," He lied. He offered her a smile, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. She seemed to catch on. 

"Steve," Ms. Kelley closes the file, leaning forward. He knew that look—and Steve hated it. "I thought we talked about this—remember? The basketball scholarship? There were scouts here last week, Steve. They've been asking about you. Isn't that great?" He knew Mrs. Kelley didn't mean any harm—it was her job to make sure he graduated after all. But still. There were more damning matters at hand. College wasn't his focus anymore, no matter how taboo it sounded. 

There had been a time when he'd cared about what life could offer him outside of Hawkins—when he and Nancy Wheeler (mostly Nancy) worked to revise his College admissions letter before first period. Steve had never been the greatest writer, or the greatest at anything really. Nancy had always been a model student—he'd known that even before they'd started dating. He'd never studied or cared about how well he did on his finals before he'd met her—and now that she was gone? He could feel the drive he'd had while they were together starting to slip at the seams and there wasn't anything he could do about it. 

"Can we talk about this some other time?" He tried. He wasn't in the mood—though was he ever? "Look. I don't feel the greatest today. Can we resume sometime next week? I promise I'll have my choice ready by then." That seemed to satisfy Ms. Kelley if the smile on her face determined anything. 

"Of course, Steve." He quickly gathered his things, shooting a glance at the clock she had on her wall. Great. He'd be able to head to his car a little early and beat the after school traffic. 

"Oh, and don't forget—Mrs. O'Donnell reminded me you have detention today. In her class, right?" She asked. Steve visibly deflated it. Someone had it out for him—that was the only explanation. 

"How could I forget." He'd, of course, forgotten. Steve was pretty sure he'd get away with skipping but he didn't want Ms. Kelley to worry anymore and it wasn't like he had anything else to do. Sure, the pull out couch he practically lived on was calling his name but he also didn't want to be at home for obvious reasons. 

As he roamed the empty halls in search of Mrs. O'Donnell's class, he remembers when he'd been here during completely different circumstances. Nancy had never been one to skip class but somehow he'd convinced her to come with him—they'd raced down the hall hand in hand, giggling like children, hiding in empty classrooms when they'd seen a teacher in the opposite direction. In hindsight, they should've gotten in trouble—caught. 

Just as Steve was rounding the corner, though, he bumped into someone—hard. Steve fell on his ass, the sound of cassettes and a pair of headphones that definitely didn't belong to him clattering next to him. The culprit, which was what Steve had started calling them in his head, fell into the wall, grabbing their head in agony—a mess of hair was the first thing Steve noticed. 

"Watch it, man. My tapes better be okay." The culprit, which he'd recognized as the one and only Eddie Munson, sounded pissed and Steve couldn't really blame him, his own mood souring at the realization. 

"I was just .. deep in thought?" It was phrased more like a question, and Eddie obviously didn't care if the eye roll Steve received was anything to go by. "I'm sorry." He tried. Again. Something strange happened—Eddie's eyes, wide and deep and pretty, softened slightly. He looked confused, which Steve didn't really understand because he really was sorry—he'd probably be pissed too if his WHAM! tapes fell victim to Hawkins High's never-mopped floors, too. He offered Eddie a hand which he begrudgingly took. 

"Iron Maiden?" Steve asked, pointing at one of the cassettes Eddie was holding. Eddie looked at his hands in disbelief like he wasn't sure this was really happening. Steve was, as always, confused.

"Yeah—Powerslave is easily their greatest album ever. My favorite is 2 Minutes to Midnight-" He paused, eyeing Steve suspiciously. "Why am I telling you this?" He ran a ring-covered hand through his hair. Steve noted he was slightly taller than the other—he only had a few inches on him, though. 

"Because I asked you?" Shuffling uncomfortably, suddenly the soles of his shoes were super interesting. "Where are you headed?" Steve tried. He sounded as awkward as he felt. Back when 'King Steve' was a novelty, Eddie had been on the receiving end of numerous insults, locker shoves, and cafeteria arguments. Steve felt like he was getting better—now that Tommy H and Carol were out of his life, he spent most days wandering the halls by himself in between passing periods, eating in his car to avoid sneers from people he used to get shitfaced with, and studying by himself—not that he particularly minded the last part. Still, though. Fuck them. 

"I didn't know our lord and savior King Steve stooped down to conversing with us common folk. Forgive me, my lord." Eddie bowed low while Steve frowned. 

"Look, man, if you're gonna be an asshole, I have somewhere to be… If you'll excuse me," Steve slid past Eddie, taking the stairs by two, hoping his memory served him well—the last time he'd taken Mrs. O'Donnell's class had been sophomore year. The clock on the wall read 2:45. He was 5 minutes late. Why couldn't he have anything go his way? 

Honestly, Steve was used to losing, though if anybody asked, yes, he won those fights. Yes, technically Jonathan Byers had rocked his shit, and he knew Billy Hargrove could pack a punch—he still had the aftermath of that scarring on his face, the son of a bitch—but still. Steve felt he was a good mediator and while he wasn't the best fighter physically, he was someone people looked up to. 

The Harrington name had always been recognizable due to his dad's business, and while Steve hadn't been the most popular in middle school, freshman year was different. People wanted to associate with him. His parties were legendary and he knew where to get the best weed. 

That all changed, though, after his first encounter with the Demogorgon in the Byers house—he'd gone to personally apologize to Jonathan after their fight in the alleyway and oh, what a surprise it had been to discover his girlfriend inside as well, threatening to shoot him nonetheless, and their matching cuts. 

In the end, he went back to help them because it was the right thing to do. He and Nancy were never going to last, the trauma of what had happened to Barb forever tied to him and their relationship, and that was okay. A lot of things were okay—they had to be. 

Detention. Right. He had detention. Zoning out was something Steve didn't necessarily have control over—he had a lot to say yet Steve had nobody but Dustin to talk to and the kid didn't need to know about any of this.

He waved to Mrs. O'Donnell and quickly shuffled to the back of the classroom, sliding into one of the many vacant desks. Just another hour and thirty minutes to go. That was when the door quickly opened and closed, a disgruntled Eddie Munson standing in front of it, out of breath nonetheless.

"Sorry, Mrs. O'Donnell. Got a bit caught up with something." His eyes were on Steve the entire time—why were they on him? 

"Just make sure you start working on that essay, Munson. Remember, it's due tomorrow." With a nod, he sauntered to the other side of the room. 

Whatever. It wasn't any of Steve's business. 

Though, when he stole a glance at the other, he found Eddie's eyes already on him.

Okay, so maybe Steve was used to receiving detention. It hadn't always been like this, alright? He used to be a kiss-ass, someone the teacher's pitied (probably because Mr. Harrington was definitely far more intimidating than Steve ever was) but now? Steve couldn't say he cared. Sure, he made an effort to get to school on time, making sure he got all the right assignments turned in so his grades wouldn't plummet because he really didn't need Ms. Kelley calling his dad about his poor work ethic when he knew he could do it. No, what Steve meant by not caring anymore was the fact that he was sitting in Mrs. O'Donnell's class after school serving detention again because Tommy H had really been pissing him off, calling him names and okay, one insult about his father hit Steve a little harder than necessary and see, Tommy knew that because if his face was anything to go by, he'd instantly regretted telling Steve he'd just become another deadbeat alcoholic who cheats on his wife. Steve had gone ballistic— he was on Tommy in seconds, blindly throwing punches until someone—probably one of Tommy’s minions—pulled them apart. 

Nobody had ever seen Steve Harrington snap. The stunned looks pissed him off the most. Why couldn't Steve, like anyone else, show any other emotion. He wasn't that happy, chipper, too-dumb-for-his-own-good bastard anymore. That wasn't him—he'd changed, and Steve wished they'd notice. 

Tommy’d gotten him in the jaw when Steve clumsily slammed his fist into some freshman's locker and yeah, it stung, but he was grateful for the ice pack he was given and he was silently praying Mrs. O'Donnell would just let him sleep through the hour and a half. 

When he gracefully (stumbled) walked into her classroom, he’d noticed two things—one, she had gotten a new poster which actually wasn't very important but that was what he'd noticed first and two, Eddie Munson was at her desk with a piece of crumpled paper, lips pressed into a thin line with furrowed brows—he was obviously confused. 

"No, no, I understand what that means—I'm just confused why I'm wrong when I worded it exactly like you said." Eddie, and all his theatrics, was whisper-shouting. Steve understood his frustration. 

"Why don't you go back to your desk and we can continue this conversation when you've calmed down." She was snippier today. Steve watched the exchange from the door, not entirely sure he was meant to be there, even though he was right on time today. Eddie, with all his dramatics, stormed back to his desk, huffing with reddened cheeks. Steve decided to bite the bullet and head to his usual spot, except he noticed something;

See, Steve wasn't the smartest guy ever and he'd be the first to admit it, but if there was one thing he was good at, it was Mrs. O'Donnell's English assignments—he recognized the front cover of her textbook a mile away.

"Hey Munson." Steve tried, his voice softening when he saw how frustrated the other was. "Need any help?" He offered—it was all he could do. "I passed her class a few years ago—it'll be a breeze." Steve adds, offering Eddie a small smile, though the other truly wasn't having it. 

"Look, if you're just gonna brag about how smart you are, you can save it, King Steve. I don't need anyone's help." Eddie grumbled, slamming the textbook closed so Steve couldn't see inside. He really didn't know what to say. 

"Uh, sorry. I'm just gonna," He points to his desk and stumbles over Eddie's backpack in the process—as if things couldn't get worse. Why was his face so red?

Maybe Eddie was scared Steve would yell at him? But that didn't make any sense. The only real interaction they'd had lately was when Steve had rammed into the guy, causing him to drop his Iron Maiden cassettes and, well, today. Steve hadn't threatened anyone lately besides Tommy H— …he deserved it though, and Steve wasn't sorry for that. After all, he’d been worlds better since the start of the school year, both the kids and Nancy rubbing off on him. Dustin had told him about how he'd needed to stop looking at every situation like he would analyze a high school hierarchy and okay, the kid was a genius, but Steve's head hurt (no, he didn't have a concussion. He knew what those felt like) so he wasn't going to think about that right now. 

Right now, he really needed a nap. Though, before he could fall asleep, the sound of someone's chair scraping against the white, stained floor snapped him out of whatever post-demogorgon daze he was falling into—again. It was Munson. Eddie seemed to make a split second decision once he'd noticed Steve's eyes on him, grabbing both his backpack and school work in one swift, steady swoop. Steve was impressed. 

Eddie shuffled toward the desk directly in front of Steve's, probably so he could turn around and show Steve his work if need be. Plopping down, Eddie turned and positioned himself so he was using Steve's desk as his own, knees pressed against Steve's. Apparently Eddie didn't understand the concept of personal space. Steve, though, didn't move. 

"You know I'm a Dungeon Master, right?" Steve nodded like he knew what the hell that meant—he'd heard Dustin mention the phrase once or twice. "Well, Dungeon Master's can pass their fucking English classes, Harrington. I guess my brain and I never got the memo. I don't know why I can't bring myself to care about this class. I want to pass, I do, I just don't know how. " And Steve understood that well enough, being in the same boat after all. Silently, he leaned in closer so he could get a better look at what Eddie was doing. 

It seemed like they were working in their vocabulary work books. Steve felt he was comfortable enough to assist Eddie with whatever he needed. 

"Do you know where to start? Why don't you try on your own and you can ask me if you need anything. I think the objective here is to find what word fits into each sentence—basically whatever makes it grammatically correct. It's kind of like proofreading almost?" Steve points at the instructions on the top of the page. Eddie still looked confused and Steve was about to continue his half-assed explanation but the other beat him to it.

"I don't understand you, man." Eddie stated, a weirdly bitter smile on his face. Remember when Steve mentioned being confused? Yeah, he owned that feeling.

"I don't follow?" And it was true—he didn't. Why couldn't he be nice to the other? Was it that shocking? 

"To be completely honest, I don't know what happened to you. Before Halloween, you were the same you'd always been since goddamn freshman year—this pretentious douchebag with the best hair who got paraded around the halls like the castle was yours. King Steve, right? Everything changed, though, after that four day weekend. At first, I'd thought you'd had this killer hangover, but that wasn't it. You're so quiet now. When we bumped into each other the other day and you made me drop my cassettes, Piece of Mind skips now by the way, asshole, I totally thought I was about to get the ass-kicking of a lifetime." And Steve supposed that made sense. Hell, even he'd noticed the change—it was good—and yeah. Maybe the old him would've grabbed Eddie by the collar of his stupid Suicidal Tendencies shirt and gave him a real stern talking to. But now? 

"Things happen—people change, Munson." Steve couldn't exactly tell the other he'd lost his only friends because he'd finally had enough of them treating Nancy like utter shit, or the Demogorgon fiasco and how he still has to sleep with his nailed-bat on the floor next to his bed just in case. 

Steve must've had that faraway look in his eye again because suddenly, Eddie was waving his ringed hand in front of Steve's face, his brown, doe like eyes filled with concern. He'd have to get used to other people caring about his well being. 

"Woah, Harrington, you okay?" Eddie asked, snapping Steve out of that weird daydream-like trance he often found himself in these days. He should definitely ask Ms. Kelley about that. 

"It's Steve, Munson. Call me Steve." He corrected him. If they were helping each other with homework, he figured they should at least be on a first name basis. 

"Okay Steve. If we're being fair, you have to call me Eddie." There was that smirk again—the one he felt so confused over. 

"Done." And then Steve looked at the other, noting how round his eyes were. Had they always been that bright? 

"Boys—enough chit-chatting. Munson, that assignment isn't going to finish itself. Harrington, I don't mind if you help him, but please don't distract each other." Both muttering their apologies, Steve reached into his backpack and pulled out his own assignment to work on. Okay, he definitely wasn't the best at multitasking but he reasoned he was only helping Eddie complete his assignment. 

They both worked in silence, save for the occasional question from Eddie and Steve found he liked working with the other. He was funny, smart as shit (even if he claimed otherwise), and definitely not what Steve had originally been expecting. Munson liked to put on a show at school, as did Steve when he had still been friends with the likes of Tommy and Carol, embracing the 'Freak' title he'd been dotted Freshman year and look, he'd considered what Dustin had told him about how he'd needed to stop viewing every situation he was in like it was a high school hierarchy and, okay, if he did that, Eddie wasn't so bad—maybe even cool.

Suddenly, Steve had an idea. 

So Steve had remembered that very miniscule, small detail about how Eddie's Piece of Mind cassette had been skipping since their collision last week and okay—he could admit he was partially at fault for that—so Steve decided he'd just buy Eddie a new one. It was simple enough. He'd hit their local K-Mart before school and search through their music section for anything Iron Maiden. He was sure Eddie had most of their albums since he'd been carrying two with something already in his Walkman the day they ran into each other, and Eddie definitely seemed to know about Iron Maiden—obviously a lot more than Steve did. He'd heard about half of Run to the Hills at a party last year but even then, he was too drunk to remember anything other than the beat. 

Admittedly, Steve hadn't seen Eddie since detention had ended last week. Their goodbye had been, well, awkward. At least that's how Steve felt when they'd very noticeably paused, stared at each other for about 5 seconds too long, uncomfortably cleared their throats, and rushed to pack their things, almost running into each other numerous times. He hadn't even seen Eddie in passing, at his locker, or at lunch. They didn't share any classes together and okay, maybe it was weird to miss seeing your detention buddy, but Steve was always embarrassing himself according to Max Mayfield so he didn't care. Detention and after school were the only times he'd seen Eddie at all and he'd need a way to give the other the cassettes. 

Right. He'd have to go get those first. 

After a very uncomfortable interaction with a tired-looking employee who obviously wanted to be at home, Steve finally decided on three cassettes. Obviously, he'd gotten Piece of Mind, as that was the only reason he'd gone here in the first place but he also settled on Seven Churches by Possessed because the album cover looked like something Eddie would wear to school and Ride the Lightning by Metallica because he'd seen Eddie wear a Kill 'Em All shirt to school once. 

He'd decided to hit the K-Mart before school so he could hopefully find Eddie in between passing periods and give them to him. 

That failed. Somehow, Steve had known he wouldn't find Eddie throughout the day but damnit, he could still feel disappointed. On top of that, he'd been given detention for falling asleep in class. Sue him—staying asleep wasn't an option for him these days. 

As he headed to Mrs. O'Donnell's class, he wondered what he'd get up to this weekend, it being Friday after all. He'd distinctly remembered Dustin asking him to carpool the kids to some new pizza place in town—he'd have to check that out and see if it was any good. Suddenly, at the very same corner, he crashed into someone and fell backward, this time into the lockers. 

"Is this our thing now, Stevie? Better not make a habit of it." It was Eddie alright. He looked up at Steve, his deep brown eyes sparkling, that same cocky smile resting on his lips. Steve offered him a hand, same as he did last time. 

"I hope not—I'm not sure how many cassettes I can replace, dude." Steve was wearing a smile of his own now, any anxiety he'd felt earlier slowly dissipating. At Eddie's confused look, Steve reached into his backpack and pulled out a wrinkled K-Mart bag. "For you." He offered Eddie the bag, the other taking it hesitantly. Without a word, he unraveled the three cassettes, wearing an unreadable expression. Steve felt his stomach drop. Had he made a mistake? Were the friendly signs something he was making up?

"Steve... You didn't have to. I could've had my uncle replace them." So Eddie wasn't used to receiving gifts. Okay. Steve could work with that. 

"Can it, Munson. It was barely anything. Really." He shoved his hands in his pockets, offering the other a sincere smile. 

"I think I have a way I can repay you." There was that smirk again—the one that made Steve nervous. He still wasn't sure why. 

"I'm listening." 

"How about we skip good ol' detention this time around and head out to my van. Got a few pre-rolled joints in there and we can see how well you know me with these," He was eyeing the cassettes mischievously, his eyebrows raised at Steve, and, okay. How was he supposed to say no to an offer like that? 

"Done." 

—

So they were high as shit. Steve hadn't been this stoned since he and Tommy H made those pot brownies junior year, the familiar high-induced warmth in his stomach almost welcoming. He'd need to do this more often—he couldn't remember the last time he'd felt this calm. 

"Doing okay, big boy?" Eddie asked, words a little slurred—he had a higher tolerance than Steve which was why he was smoking a second joint by himself. Steve refused to think about how he grew impossibly warmer due to the nickname. 

"I’m fine, Eds. Nothin' to worry about here." With a sloppy salute, Steve let his hazy eyes close and rested his cheek against the cold window, his breath fogging it. It was supposed to snow next weekend. He decided he wanted to draw Eddie a flower so he fogged the window up and quickly got to work—it was sloppy but Steve was proud of the sunflower he'd created, finishing it off with two eyes and a smile. "Made you somethin'. Ta da!" He laughed at nothing and everything, feeling even prouder when he saw Eddie's face light up. 

"For me, Stevie?" Eddie asked, overgrown bangs falling into his face. He blew at them annoyingly. Steve shuddered—it was really fucking cold and he'd left his jacket in his locker, thinking he'd just grab it after detention. 

Eddie seemed to notice. Wordlessly, Steve watched as he unbuckled his seatbelt, slipped both arms out of his leather jacket, and handed it to him, nudging him to put it on and—okay—that was a completely normal thing friends did for each other. Hell, if Eddie had been the one without a jacket, Steve would've given him his. 

"Thanks, Eddie." He mumbled, slipping the worn jacket on. It was warm and smelt of weed and nicotine and Eddie. 

"No problem, Steve-o. Now," He opened his cassette player and grabbed the still-crumpled K-Mart baggie from his back pocket. "Ready to give these a listen? I've already heard Ride the Lightning but I haven't been able to get a physical copy until now, so why don't we start with that?" Steve nodded, watching Eddie as he slipped the cassette into the machine with a smile. 

"This song's called Fight Fire with Fire. " Eddie replied as the acoustic guitar streamed through the speakers on either side—then came the thrash. Steve watched Eddie headbang, airing along to the guitar and yeah—Steve could see why Eddie would like it. It was different from most things, being loud and in your face, and it definitely wasn't something he'd listen to again but he let Eddie know he really liked the guitar solo and that seemed to appease him. They sat in silence, save for the occasional comment from Eddie, and Steve was really enjoying himself. 

"I'm really glad we could-" And okay—that definitely wasn't his own hand being shoved over his mouth. Eddie and his red rimmed eyes, hair askew, was shushing Steve! 

"Listen, listen! This is my favorite. It's called For Whom the Bell Tolls." His eyes lit up, the smile on his face something Steve wished he could see more of. He gave Eddie a nod and turned up the volume on the stereo, kicking his feet up on the dashboard. Eddie, looking appalled, made to move Steve's shoes off, something about we don't know where you've been, you heathen and all Steve could do was smile, smile smile, until someone was knocking on the window, effectively snapping him out of it. 

It was the Principal. Steve rolled his window down as Eddie turned down the stereo. Be calm. Be cool.

"Hey boys. Got a call from Mrs. O'Donnell about some students skipping detention. Say, Munson? Harrington? Do you know what she's talking about?" And Steve's mind blanked. See, if he wasn't stoned out of his mind (no matter how sobering it was for the principal to catch you), he'd probably come up with a very intricate reason why he wasn't in her class, thank you very much. And look—maybe they were a little dumb for smoking on school property, but Mr. Higgins didn't seem to notice—or care. Suddenly, Eddie was leaning over Steve, a shark-like smile plastered on his face.

"We were just nursing Steve's migraine from the concussion he got last weekend. Right, Harrington?" 

"Right! Definitely not getting high or- or something. We wouldn't ever do that." He gave Eddie a thumbs up and the other fell onto the steering wheel. Wordlessly, two green slips were passed to Steve with Detention Saturday scrawled on top. Principal Higgins trudged back into the school after giving each of them a stern, tired look, muttering something about wanting to go home.

" Steve." Eddie drawled out, playfully pushing his head into the window. "You're so stupid, you know that?" Yet there was no malice in his voice—and trust Steve, he knew he was stupid. Dustin reminded him everyday, in fact, most of the kids did. 

"I thought I did really well, thank you very much." And they both dissolved into laughter—it wasn't even that funny. Steve reveled in the sound, wishing he could make the other happy all the time. Okay. He really needed to get some fresh air.

"Where ya goin', Stevie?" Eddie asked as Steve shuffled out of the van. 

"Places—home I think. Thanks for the, y'know. Enjoy your cassettes, Eds."

As he drove home, his mind still cloudy from earlier, he realized he was still wearing Eddie's leather jacket. 

Okay—it was Saturday and Steve still hadn't returned Eddie's jacket, but it wasn't his fault. He hadn't had the time. Midterms were rapidly approaching, meaning he'd been studying with Nancy again (things were awkward)  and he still couldn't get any sleep—speaking of, he was exhausted today. It was a miracle he'd remembered he'd had detention at all. All he wanted to do was mindlessly watch TV in his dad's old recliner, a cold beer in his hand. At least Eddie would be there. Just like last week, he hadn't seen much of the other around school and look, it was starting to piss him off. The one time he'd seen Eddie was at the end of the day on Thursday, yet when Steve tried to wave to him like he usually did with Nancy and Jonathan, he'd been ignored. It didn't make any sense—Eddie as a whole didn't, but they'd gotten high together. He'd figured they'd at least talk to each other outside of detention. 

Speaking of detention, Steve had gone back to K-Mart so he could get another copy of Piece of Mind because he wanted to have something he could talk to Eddie about. His favorite had been Revelations. Metal wasn't his favorite genre—or even something he'd listen to in general—but it wasn't like he'd spent a fortune on the cassette.

As he drove back to Hawkins High, the sun slowly set in his rearview mirror. See, Steve hated the fall-to-winter transition. Winter reminded him of nailed bats and matching scars and Barb. He couldn't pass the woods by the Byers house anymore without his breath hitching—even his own backyard, his pool, reminded him of things he'd rather forget. He'd even invested in darker curtains on Monday so he could sleep without the water reflecting into his room, taunting him.

Dustin had flipped when he'd learned Steve had a pool—all the kids had, already planning summer parties and shit Steve couldn't even process—mentally, he couldn't. Physically? Sure, the scars were softening around his eye but the reminders were still there. The looks people had given him when he'd returned to school, whispering to their friends about what King Steve had gotten up to over the weekend. Then there had been Eddie—he'd offered Steve a smile, congratulated him on the 'Metal' look and scurried back to his weird little friends who all wore matching tee shirts two days a week. Steve hadn't said anything, of course, but the interaction had stuck with him. 

Once he pulled into the parking lot, the sun was already behind the trees and Steve could see his breath in the air. As a kid, he'd always pretended he was smoking a cigar on colder days which was something his dad did. Swallowing the bitter memory, he approached the school, watching Eddie struggle with his lighter—a cigarette lazily rested in between his lips, his hair pulled up in a messy bun—Steve could see his face. 

"Holy shit, there's a person under there." Steve joked, pressing his back against the brick wall, mimicking Eddie as he grabbed a cigarette of his own. Eddie, of course, flipped him off.

 "Need any help with that?" Steve asked, pointing at the lighter Eddie had in his hand. 

Wordlessly, he leaned into Steve's space, eyes going cross as he watched Steve ignite his lighter—the same one he'd used in the tunnels—he'd bought a pack of two. He shuddered at the thought. 

"Har har. Very funny, Steve-o." Steve watched Eddie exhale upward—he looked so carefree. 

"Hey, I listened to that Maiden album you were talking about. Revelations kicks ass, by the way." He smiles when Eddie's eyebrow rises comically high. He wants to reach out and push a strand of hair behind Eddie's ear—he doesn't.

"You're impressing me, Stevie. We've made a man out of you yet. If you had it this whole time, why didn't you just give me yours." Eddie jokes easily, exhaling again. 

"You think me, Steve Harrington, the guy who listens to ABBA and WHAM! has an Iron Maiden cassette laying around his house? You're smarter than that, Munson." And it's easy talking to him like this, Steve thinks. Eddie's great company. 

There's that unreadable expression again. Fuck.

Steve decides he doesn't like the silence after all. 

"Who's Corroded Coffin?" Steve's staring at the shirt Eddie's wearing, the font scratchy and hard to read due to wear. "Should I be getting their cassettes too?" Eddie laughs at that—full on laughs, and Steve can't help but join in because he's confused but Eddie's laugh is incredibly contagious. 

"I hear they play live at the Hideout sometimes. Not sure where you'd get any cassettes." Eddie's staring at the tree line now, his cigarette down to barely a stub. 

"We could go listen to them together sometime, maybe. Do you like their music?" 

"You could say that." And Eddie's chuckling again. Obviously Steve's missed something. 

"What? Is there something on my face?" Steve makes a show for Eddie, feeling around to make sure there isn't anything there—Eddie laughs the whole time. Steve's face reddens. Look. It's cold outside. 

"It's my band." 

"What?" Had he missed something? 

" Corroded Coffin?  It's my band. I—we, being my friends and I—created it in Middle School. Chrissy Cunningham was the only one who stood up and clapped at the end of our first show." Eddie smiled at the memory though Steve was smiling for completely different reasons. 

"You're-" You're amazing, Eddie Munson is what he wanted to say but he stopped himself, staring intently into the other's eyes instead.

"I'm gonna go inside and sit in Mrs. O'Donnell's class and think about a few things because you're confusing the hell out of me, Stevie-boy. And no—don't overthink that because I can see the worry pooling in those oh so pretty eyes. I'm fine, really." As Eddie walks off, stubbing his cigarette into the sidewalk, Steve watches him dumbly, mouth agape—he's questioning a lot himself. 

Suddenly, he remembers something.

"Eddie! Wait up! I forgot to give this to you the other day because I was, you know, high. " Steve whispers the last part like he's sharing an important secret. 

"My jacket," Eddie has that unreadable expression on his face again, his lips parted slightly. "You know what? You keep it. It suits you." He seems content with his decision, handing Steve the jacket with a smile on his face. Steve watches him brush a strand of hair behind his ear riddled with piercings. He can't seem to look away. 

"What am I going to do with a leather jacket? I usually where, I don't know, polos?" 

"Broaden your horizons, Steven." And that's that—Eddie walks into the school with a cackle and all Steve can do is follow him. 

"Where are you going, freak?" And okay—Jason Carver, local Sunday School attendee and usher, has Eddie pressed against Steve's locker at 2 PM on Wednesday. Steve had swim practice today and remembered he'd needed to grab something from his locker—he'd forgotten what it was by now, too enamored by what was going on—and Jason Carver, Letterman jacket and all, was shouting something at Eddie who, despite everything, had a cocky grin on his face. Chrissy Cunningham was shouting incoherently next to the both of them, something about Jason let him go! He didn't do anything —she sounded close to tears and Steve knew he needed to intervene but his mind kept drifting to other places and, okay, he really didn't need to have a post-demogorgon panic attack right now. Be calm, Harrington. 

"What's going on here?" He tries his best to sound intimidating, using his team captain voice so Jason knows he means business, but neither of them were budging. By now, Chrissy was in tears. He ushered at her to grab a nearby teacher and she hurried off, two girls in matching cheer uniforms following en suite. Neither were answering, though, Jason starring Eddie down with one of his sadistic you're going to hell looks Steve had been on the receiving end of one-too-many times at Church. Okay. He'd have to repeat himself. No biggie. 

"I asked you a question, Carver. What's going on." Steve eyes the both of them with a glare, watching Jason's grip on Eddie's denim vest tighten slightly. He wasn't backing down. 

"Why don't you tell him Eddie." The way Jason said his name, hurling it like an insult—like Eddie was somehow lesser than him—only enraged Steve more. 

"What's there to tell? Am I not allowed to talk to Chrissy anymore?" And okay, Jason genuinely looked about ready to strike. 

"Don't say her name, freak. You know what you did. I told you to stay away from her and what did you do?" Jason raises his hand in front of Eddie's face and, okay, Steve has to hand it to Munson. He looks bored. 

"Chrissy and I being friends isn't going to change you self-obsessed asshole. She and I have known each-" Gasps abrupt around them as Eddie's head slams into the locker behind him. He cups his nose and winces as he sees crimson begin to pool in his palms. He looks at Steve, eyes widening. 

That's his cue.

Steve quickly intervenes before the situation can escalate any further, pulling Carver into a nearby restroom to calm him down. Steve was his basketball captain after all. Maybe he could give him a pep talk. 

"Jason, we can't go around punching our classmates like that, man. You might get kicked off the basketball team." Would that be so bad, though? Quickly burying that thought, he focuses in on Carver and tries for a smile—one that isn't returned.

"Why not, Harrington? Isn't that what you do? I saw you and Tommy H the other day. Besides, why are you defending that freak?  You know he's a queer, right? We all saw him at Neil's party last year sucking face with Austin." The way Jason words it makes Steve anxious. Sure, his father had reminded him not to be a sissy everyday before school but it wasn't wrong to .. like men, right? Steve wasn't so sure he was straight himself. Lingering stares, touches, and reddened faces with Tommy H when he was in middle school made him question everything. He still liked girls, though, his relationship with Nancy being one of the happiest moments of his life, but he felt different. 

He must've zoned out again because Jason was snapping in his face, clearly annoyed.

"Harrington? Are you and Eddie .. screwing?  Holy shit! You totally are! Wait till I tell everyone Steve Harrington's a queer-" Jason was cut off with a loud crunch as Steve slammed him into the bathroom wall, gripping the collar of his stupid letterman jacket. 

"Let me make this really clear, Carver. You mention this to anyone at all and you're done." Steve wasn't sure he was still intimidating. His 'King Steve' era had ended and all he could hope for was that somehow he had the upper hand since he was a Senior and Carver wasn't 

This seemed to settle with Jason if the weak nods were anything to go by. Steve let him go, resting against one of the stall doors. 

"What is going on in here?" It was Mrs. O'Donnell with Eddie and Chrissy in tow.

"He- he attacked me, ma'am. They both did. I was defending myself, really, I'd never hit someone unwarranted." And Steve had to hand it to him. He was a good actor which was why he and Eddie were sitting in their usual spots in detention, the sun already set. 

—

The classroom was quiet, save for the near-broken heater that sprang to life every now and then. Steve was working on something for math class though the longer he stared at his paper, the blurrier the problems got—he was tired today and his hand  hurt. He couldn't even flex his fingers without pain shooting up and down his arm. He'd suffered plenty of broken bones throughout his years on the basketball team to know when he'd need to seek medical attention and right now, Steve figured he'd just take an Aleve when he got home and ice it down. Eddie, on the other hand, was noticeably in pain. 

His nose had stopped bleeding about 30 minutes ago but Steve saw the winces and pinched expression on his face whenever he had to sneeze or rub at his nose. 

"Doing okay, Eds?" He whispers, leaning over the other's shoulder. If he focuses really hard, he can hear the other's heartbeat. Eddie's eyes widen.

"As okay as I'll ever be. This isn't my first run-in with Carver, Stevie, but I do appreciate you coming to my rescue. I'm flattered." Eddie's taken to playing with his hair, twirling it in between his fingers. Steve thinks he looks really pretty. 

"I want to be able to protect you all the time," Steve admits quietly. For some reason, his cheeks redden. "Like, I'm sure you can take care of yourself, but Carver shouldn't get to put his hands all over you without someone doing something about it." He was rambling now and Eddie had that unreadable expression on his face again. It pissed Steve off, okay? He had no idea what it meant. 

"Aweee," He draws his e's out. "Little old me, Stevie?" He's stuttering now, nervously playing with his hands. "Do you really feel that way?" He mutters, mainly toward himself.

"Yes-" He sputters. Calm down, Harrington. "That's what friends do, Eddie." And something shifts in the air—Steve's immediately aware he's screwed up somehow. Eddie's face pinches, something in his gaze falling. You'd miss it if you'd blinked, but he's back to smiling now. It doesn't reach his eyes. 

"Right. Friends." Eddie whirls around in his seat leaving Steve alone in his confusion. 

What was that?

It had been two weeks since the fatal friends incident and Steve was still confused. He'd played back the moment continuously wondering how he'd managed to mess up one of the only good things going for him. He hadn't seen nor heard from Eddie at all. Any time he'd see one of Eddie's freaky friends in the hallway, they'd pick up the pace and scurry past him like he'd wronged them somehow—like they were scared he'd say or do something. 

Steve was starting to feel like the only way he'd see Eddie was detention which was where they usually talked most days anyways since they didn't share any classes. It was okay—it wasn't. Steve wanted to spend extra time with Eddie. He wanted to drive the other to school, listen to his horrible (better than he'd thought) music, go to the movies, hold hands, smoke together—oh Steve could go on and on and on. But that wouldn't be happening if he couldn't talk to Eddie about whatever the hell happened. 

He'd need to get himself detention. 

Okay. That wouldn't be so hard. 

It was hard. Steve was used to teacher's dishing out a green detention slip if he breathed  the wrong way. For some reason, even when he purposefully slept during class, or 'forgot' to turn in his project when he'd been given two weeks to complete it, he still hadn’t gotten in trouble. Steve just wanted to see Eddie. 

Steve decided the universe was against him. Why didn't they share any classes or have a single  lunch period together throughout the week? Even his route throughout the day didn't permit a single moment where he could see the other since his classes were on the other end of the school. Maybe he'd have to skip seventh period and head over there. Honestly, he'd do anything if it meant he could resolve whatever was happening with Eddie. Steve just wanted to see his face. He missed his laugh, his smile, the color of his warm, brown eyes. He'd realized he'd had a crush on Eddie somewhere along the way and okay—the thought terrified him but he was good at pretending everything was fine so Steve truthfully just wanted whatever they'd had before (friendship, accomplices, detention buddies?) back. 

As he trekked to the other side of Hawkins High (seriously—why were these hallways so long?), the bell rang signaling the end of the 5 minute passing period. Cursing under his breath, Steve picked up the pace, hoping Eddie was running late to class too. 

When he made it to where he (presumed) Eddie's locker was, a kid with short, scruffy brown hair in a red flannel was standing there. He noticeably tensed up when he saw Steve approaching, however, as he turned around to walk the other way, Steve caught up and grabbed him by the shoulder. He was wearing one of those matching shirts Eddie had had on. 

"Look, I'm not supposed to be talking to you, man. Can you let me go?" He does, but Steve moves to block his way.

"Did- did Eddie put you up to this?-" A pinch in his face. "I don't know what I've done but please—I really need to talk to him and explain myself and apologize."  The kid, Gareth, he's pretty sure, seems to consider this. 

"I don't know where he is, honest. Maybe try the theater room? We have a Dungeons and Dragons campaign tonight and Eddie likes to skip final period to set things up. That's your best bet." With a final nod, the kid turns on his heel and walks off. 

Steve sighs in relief. The Theater room. Okay. He's got this.

—

There was a lot Steve wanted to tell Eddie but he figured he'd start with an apology on the preface that he genuinely had no idea he'd upset the other when he'd called them friends. There were moments when Steve was convinced he wasn't the only one harboring feelings and he planned on figuring that out today. 

He decided he'd knock on the door so as to not spook Eddie. 

"Gareth, how many times do I have to tell you Hellfire members already have permission- you're .. not Gareth. What are you doing here, Harrington?" Ouch. They were back to last names only. Whatever. It was fine. It was cool.

"Look- Eddie. I came to apologize. I'm not really sure what I did exactly but. I'm sorry. Honestly. I upset you last time we talked and I didn't mean to." Steve feels awkward. 

Eddie rubs at his face with his hand and groans. Ushering Steve inside, he closes the door behind them. He looks .. worried. 

"I should be the one apologizing, Steve." And—okay—Steve wasn't expecting that. "I .. don't know how to voice what I'm thinking and I really don't want you to punch me, so." 

"I'd never, ever punch you, Eddie. I could never hate you." Steve rushes. He can't—won't—get his hopes up. 

"Maybe I can show you instead?" And all Steve can do is nod, his lips parted. 

Eddie strolls over to his Walkman and pulls something out of his backpack that, if Steve's read correctly, says For Harrington with a drawn-on electric guitar and a skull. Before he registers what he's doing, he's made his way to where Eddie's standing and grabs the cassette out of his hands.

"Did you make this .. for me?" His voice is quiet, barely above a whisper. He can see the gears in Eddie's head turning. 

"Don't make a big deal out of it, Harrington. It started as a way for me to introduce you to real music. But now?" Eddie pauses, wets his lips, and stares at his hands. Steve grabs them, neither moving. Steve's pretty sure his heartbeat is loud enough for the both of them to hear. 

"But now?" Steve repeats, teasing—inviting. 

"Don't make me say it," Eddie's blushing, Steve realizes—his eyes are blown wide and he looks so pretty. 

"How about you show me." And fuck it—he leans in. Eddie tastes like mint and nicotine and something he can't place. He's pressed against the table, Eddie resting in between his thighs and Steve sighs into the kiss. It was messy—desperate, feelings from the few months they'd known each other finally answered. Steve's got his hands in Eddie's hair, only pulling away because he needed to breathe, okay? Eddie's eyes are blown wide and he's gasping, but he's smiling and that's all that matters to Steve. 

"You didn't punch me." 

"You're right, I didn't. I like you too much." It's out in the open now and it's scary. Sure, they'd kissed seconds ago but this was completely. 

"Well, lucky for you, I kinda like you too, Steve Harrington." 

And all they can do is kiss again. 

Steve feels out of place. He usually does these days, what with the 'King Steve' title gone and because he's secretly dating Eddie, but he's at the Hideout. He notices a lot of drunk, old men with fisherman hats on and a few people his age dressed head to toe in black. He's too young to drink so he sits in a booth toward the back so he can still watch Eddie without anyone bothering him. 

Eddie had made sure Steve looked 'appropriate' for the evening because apparently a nice shirt and some jeans weren't going to cut it. He'd been told to wear one of Eddie's shirts so here he was at 9 PM on a Friday night during Winter Break in a Kill 'Em All shirt with black ripped jeans on. He'd worn his white shoes (he was pretty sure Eddie would grimace about that later) But dammit, he was here to support his boyfriend. He didn't care what these older men thought. At all. 

As the lights dim, Steve watches Eddie saunter onto the stage, scanning over the crowd until his eyes land on Steve—Eddie waves at him and promptly turns to his guitar resting on its stand. Steve—give him a break—is encapsulated. Eddie has his hair pulled into a ponytail and he's wearing that Corroded Coffin  shirt except the sleeves have been cut so it's more of a tank top now. He's enamored—in love. 

"Hey everyone! We're Corroded Coffin  and tonight we're gonna do something a little different." Eddie commands the attention from the crowd like he owns the place and Steve really thinks he does. "We've decided to play some covers tonight instead of our usual setlist." 

As Eddie strums the first chords of Iron Maiden's Revelations, Steve honestly forgets how to breathe. He'd forgotten he'd told Eddie about that and the smile on his face genuinely hurts. Steve loves watching Eddie play guitar—when they hang out at his trailer, he usually takes it off its stand and plays all of Steve's requests. 

Revelations   fades into For Whom the Bell Tolls and okay—Steve's usually a confused person on a lot of things but he's never been so sure about something in his life. 

He’s pretty sure he loves Eddie Munson.