Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

August/September, 1985

Someone’s gone and moved into the old trailer that used to belong to Chief Hopper. The trailer is on the outskirts of the park, but not too far a distance away from the nearest next trailer, so it takes about two days for anyone to notice that there’s a car regularly parked in front of it, suddenly. It raises a few eyebrows, not the least because Jim Hopper only just passed away, merely a month ago, and no one had seen any ‘for sale’ signs. Hawkins is a small town, so it doesn’t take long for people to start gossiping.

The general nosiness of Hawkins’ residents takes over from there. The little old lady who lives in the blue trailer across the street from Hopper is the one to identify the car as belonging to a young girl named Robin. It’s her friend, when she goes and gossips, who says that Robin was there so frequently visiting a boy. A mysterious boy none of them have ever met before.

That gets the rumor mill going like none of the rest of it did. 

It’s a month after they move in that the populace catches their first glimpse of the person who lives there, now. It’s not long after that that Eddie gets dragged into it all.

Eddie’s used to the rumor mill spewing out ridiculous things. Nothing about the current ridiculous thing they’re all talking about jumps out at him as important, but he still finds himself curious. His trailer isn’t far from the Hopper one - he can see the lights at night from his living room - but he doesn’t actually walk by the place very often.

They’ve been living there just over a month before Eddie first encounters him. He’s realized, by this point, that the guy is something of a recluse. He never seems to leave, though Eddie sees Robin coming and going frequently. The furthest the guy seems to travel is to the mailbox and back, and even then, he rarely goes that far. The furthest he usually goes is to step out onto his porch, where he’ll sit and watch the forest for a while.

He’s definitely an odd guy, which makes Eddie curious, but it’s not until month three that he actually meets the guy. And even then, he does it in a roundabout way.

One fall morning, a new family moves into the trailer across from his. He glances at them curiously a few times - because it’s just a mother and daughter, from the looks of it, but there’s a whole host of kids helping them move. “Ought to lend a hand,” Wayne says after a while, nursing his morning coffee, and Eddie heaves a sigh. “Neighborly thing to do,” Wayne muses, and that’s that.

Eddie makes up more coffee, puts some in the one thermos they own, and then follows Wayne out of the trailer. The group of people across from them is almost laughable, considering the size of the trailer they’re all trying to help fill. There’s four kids - the girl moving in, and three boys who seem to be her friends - and the mom, who Wayne approaches with a warm smile and the thermos. She looks exhausted (and maybe a touch hungover) as she takes the thermos with a smile of her own, sipping at it before smiling wider. 

“It’s delicious, thank you,” Eddie hears her say as he scans the crowd, just as two more faces step out of the trailer. It’s Robin herself - Eddie recognizes her from school - but the boy beside her, also a teenager, is unfamiliar. 

“My boy made it,” Wayne says proudly, and Eddie’s stomach curls in that pleasant way it always does when he calls him his boy. “Eddie, come say hello,” Wayne gestures him closer from where he’d hovered at the edges of the gathering. Eddie forces a smile that he hopes doesn’t look too shy, extending a hand to the red headed woman, who shakes it politely. 

“Eddie Munson,” he introduces himself.

“And I’m Wayne,” his uncle adds warmly and the woman smiles wider.

“Susan Hargrove,” she introduces, seeming to look just a smidge waxier at her last name. Her smile wobbles - all of theirs do, because they recognize the last name as the same as Billy’s, asshole that he might’ve been - and then she turns to place a hand on her daughter’s shoulder. Her daughter, who had been racing past to fetch another box from the car, pauses at the touch and offers a reluctant smile. “This is Max.”

“Mayfield,” the girls adds unprompted, and Eddie takes note of that for later. 

“These kids are, ah,” Susan struggles for a moment, because all of them are still moving in and out of the trailer, only to pause when Susan points at them. “That’s Dustin, Mike, and this here is Lucas,” she adds, gesturing to the skinniest boy, who offers a grin. 

“Sinclair, right?” Wayne asks and the dark skinned boy nods. “Your father helped me out of a financial spot last year. Tell him I said hello,” Wayne implores and the boy nods again.

“Sure thing. Dad helps a lot,” Lucas adds with a small shrug, clearly used to being asked to pass on gratitude. Eddie shifts uncomfortably - it may be fall, but it’s early days yet, and the sun is still strong enough to make his denim vest get hot to the touch.

“Oh,” Susan says as Robin and the teen boy step out again. “And this is Robin and Steve,” she introduces, the blonde girl offering a wave while the teen just glances over at them. After an almost but not quite awkwardly long second, he offers a small wave, too. 

“Pleasure to meet you all,” Wayne says politely. “Are you the two living in the old Hopper trailer?” he asks and Eddie notices the way a number of the kids twitch uncomfortably at the mentioned name. He wonders if any of them had known the Sheriff. 

“Oh, no, that’s just Steve,” Robin corrects quickly. “I just spend most of my time there.”

“Oh, you’re together?” Wayne asks in quiet surprise as Eddie watches. He’s amused by the brief flicker of panic that seems to cross her face before she forces a bright smile.

“Yep, that’s us, totally dating,” she lies so blatantly that Eddie’s not surprised to see one of the kids - Dustin - very obviously roll his eyes. Eddie gets it, though.

He gets it immediately, because he’s seen Robin sighing after other females before, and has always, if silently, commiserated with that. It’s hard to live in a world like theirs while being different.  

While being something to be universally hated - or, somehow worse, disgusted.

“Can’t say I’ve seen you around before, Steve. New in town?” Wayne asks amicably, clearly not seeing the tension in the teenager’s frame as he gives a curt nod.

“Something like that,” Steve says mildly, his voice smooth and low, and Eddie notices, listening more closely to the conversation. “I was… adopted by Sheriff Hopper. I’m his nephew,” Steve explains and Eddie’s brows rise at that, as do Wayne’s.

“Really! My boy here is my nephew, too. Adopted as well. Hopper was a good man, then.” Wayne says with confidence, clasping a hand on Eddie’s shoulder briefly. Then he smiles sadly at Steve. “I’m sorry for your loss. Both of you,” he adds as his gaze shifts to Susan. “It’s not easy to lose a parent or a child,” Wayne says, his voice softening at the delicacy of the topic, and Eddie winces as Susan’s face falls, however briefly. 

She’s quick to rally herself, her smile only a little tremulous. “I didn’t know Billy long, but he still had a place in my heart,” Susan murmurs quietly, her daughter inching closer to take hold of her hand briefly. It makes Susan smile down at her.

Eddie figures that makes Susan one hell of a woman - because Billy sure was the kind of person only a mother could reflect on fondly. He’s pretty sure even everyone Billy dated remembers him with bitterness. It almost makes him feel bad for the guy, for all he’d made Eddie’s life hell. Eddie was of the opinion, from personal experience, that being hated was a pretty shitty fucking feeling, and Billy was hated while dead. He couldn’t ever defend himself from it. It kind of sucked to think about, and he sympathizes with Susan all the more, and Max besides.

They can’t possibly be unaware of how most of the town thought of Billy. The only ones who did like him were the ones who were attracted to him and had never had a conversation with him long enough to utterly ruin that attraction.

…Eddie kind of got that one from real personal experience.

He abruptly snaps himself out of that spiral of thoughts, fighting the urge to grimace at one of his stupider crushes, and pays attention to what Wayne is saying.

“So you must’ve lived with him up in that cabin of his, huh? I was surprised when he moved out of the trailer - never thought he’d go back there, but I suppose he needed the space,” Wayne muses and Steve gives a slow nod at that.

He looks distinctly awkward, Eddie’s noticing. Which is a shame, because he’s really quite attractive, but he couldn’t scream ‘socially uncomfortable’ any louder if he’d tried. He even goes so far as to lean back on his heels, just slightly, to try and put more distance between himself and Wayne.

But he stomachs his awkwardness well, Eddie observes. He takes a breath to calm himself, then smiles, and it barely looks fake. “Yeah, we cleaned the place up before moving in, my sister and I.” Steve’s expression only becomes more uncomfortable as he speaks, though he clearly tries to keep it from showing too strongly.

“A sister, huh? First time I’m hearing about the Sheriff having kids, but he was a very private man, very private…” Wayne murmurs, then shakes his head. “Well, enough about that. Your sister living with you?”

“No, she… left town with the Byers,” Steve explains slowly and Wayne barely pauses at the recognition he’s stepped on a sore topic. Something Eddie’s jealous of is Wayne’s ability to seamlessly navigate conversation, no matter how boring or uncomfortably intense.

“Ah, it’s always hard to be parted from siblings. Well, I hope you’re liking it here.” Wayne says smoothly, grinning at the boy. “It ain’t much to look at, but it’s home.”

Steve makes an odd expression at that, something far away and slightly wistful, before he nods. “Yeah. It’s home,” he murmurs, and Wayne’s smile softens. 

“Steve!” Robin calls from the car, struggling with a heavy box, and the boy is quick to move, lunging into motion. It’s only because of how fast he moves, at odds with his careful slowness so far, that Eddie even notices the way his left leg drags, slightly, in just the vaguest limp. Once he has hold of the box, his steps slow again, and the limp vanishes as if it were never there.

Eddie frowns, though, and files that knowledge away for later. From the way Wayne’s frowning, too, he figures he’s doing the same, and suppresses the urge to sigh.

Wayne’s good and helpful nature means Eddie is going to have to be good and helpful.

Watching the teenagers trudge into the trailer, however, he can’t imagine it’ll be all bad. Steve’s pretty cute, at least, in a kind of awkward way.

Conversation between Wayne and Susan continues on, and Eddie watches for a moment before, with a shrug, he wanders over to the car. Only a few boxes are left, Dustin fighting with one, so Eddie leans down and takes the heavy box from him. “Jeez, what’s in here, cast iron pans?” he wonders and Dustin snickers.

“Just one, I think,” he says, then pointedly taps the side of the box, which sure enough, says pans on it in big letters. Eddie rolls his eyes, waiting for Dustin to scoop up another box before he turns to lead the way into the trailer. Max is inside, directing everyone around, and Eddie has to step to the side to avoid where Robin’s dragging in an armchair. It looks light enough for her to handle on her own, so he leaves her to it when Max points him to the kitchen.

Eddie sets the box down and turns to go grab another, but is waylaid almost immediately, because Robin’s gone back for more furniture, and she and Steve are trying to lift up a whole-ass couch together. Eddie takes one look at Steve favoring one leg and darts to his side, crouching down to get a handle on the side of the sofa. “I got it,” he insists, nudging Steve away, and the other teen goes with a small frown on his face.

“I had it,” Steve mutters, but stays out of the way as Eddie and Robin haul it inside. They get it settled against the longest available wall in the living room, at which point Robin heavily throws herself into one of the seats.

“Break time!” Robin calls to the others, and within seconds, bodies are hitting the floor all over.

“My back,” Lucas complains as he flattens himself to the floor.

“Your back? My legs,” Dustin counters as he sits against the foot of the sofa, rubbing at his calves. 

“Your legs?” Steve huffs from the doorway as he walks in, setting a box on the kitchen counter. Eddie doesn’t expect Dustin to laugh at that.

“Don’t complain, your leg always hurts,” he jokes, and Eddie wouldn’t say that’s something he’d be comfortable joking about, but he relaxes when Steve just rolls his eyes good naturedly. He wanders over the sofa and sits down heavily next to Robin, their knees brushing, and if Eddie didn’t know her, he might be convinced they were telling the truth about their relationship just by how comfortable they are with each other. 

Eddie eyes the final spot on the sofa for a moment, then shrugs and drops himself into it. He smacks his hands to his knees and scans his eyes over all the faces in the room. He’s not sure what to say, and he’s trying to ignore the way his fingers practically itch for a joint. He’s always so much better at social things when he’s had at least a hit. 

“So… Eddie?” Robin attempts, leaning forward to peer at him. “I recognize you from school. You’re in that club, right? For…”

“D&D,” Eddie confirms, smothering the urge to wince. Of course the first topic the girl in the room chooses is about how much of a fucking freak Eddie is.

To his shock, though, Robin just grins at that, and the faces of all the younger boys light up. “Yeah, that. Dustin?” She offers, and the boy eagerly takes the reins.

“No way! We - Lucas and Mike and I - are in a D&D group!” Dustin says brightly and Eddie blinks at them. He scans the room briefly, but no one looks judgmental or prepared to be in any way shitty about it, so he clears his throat.

“Cool, cool. I DM my group, the Hellfire Club. You guys just started high school, right?” he asks, though he doesn’t need to, because he noticed them the first day of the school year - little lost ducklings that they were - and gets a round of nods. “You ought to join up, then.”

“There’s room?” Mike asks somewhat cautiously and Eddie relaxes a bit further as they go on.

“Not currently, but the campaign should wrap up in two more sessions, maybe three if they’re fucking idiots about it,” Eddie shrugs a shoulder. “I could write in space for the next campaign if you’re interested. See if you guys fit in with the others,” Eddie offers, fighting back a grin when they absolutely light up at that.

“Yes! Definitely! We just ended our last campaign when our party member left, and we haven’t started a new one yet with everything,” Dustin glances at Mike and Max as he says this, then grins at Eddie. “Where do you guys meet up?”

“Usually just at my place. Wayne doesn’t mind so long as we don’t bitch about him running the TV in the background,” Eddie frowns a bit at that, then grimaces a little. “Er, might be too cramped with six of us, though…” he admits.

“We can host it at my place when the new campaign starts,” Mike offers and Lucas claps him on the back enthusiastically. “I have a whole basement to use.”

Eddie grins a bit at his enthusiasm, but still arches a brow somewhat self deprecatingly. “Your parents would be cool with a bunch of weirdo teenagers intruding?” he asks with a touch of doubt, and sure enough, it makes Mike frown slightly. 

“Well, maybe not my dad,” he admits after a second. “But then where?” he wonders, his face already starting to fall a bit. The kids frown in disappointment and consideration, and Eddie winces just a bit at that.

He considers the one solution he might have, frowning a bit before sighing. He probably shouldn’t risk embarrassing himself for some scrawny kids he’s just met, but… they look so disappointed. “I can talk to Ms. Letto about using the drama club’s backroom after school hours,” Eddie offers and his eyebrows lift slightly when he suddenly has three sets of pleading eyes leveled at him.

“Really?” Lucas asks eagerly and Eddie grins a bit.

“Yeah, sure.” He says with a careless shrug. These kids are kind of cute, all excited about meeting someone with similar interests. Eddie gets it - he was the same way when he met his friends in the Hellfire Club. It was difficult finding like minded people when you’re an outsider yourself, so it always felt particularly special when you managed it. 

“Thanks, man. Hang on, let me write down our numbers,” Mike offers, turning to search for a pad and pen. He returns with them a moment later, writing out the numbers and tearing them off before passing them all to Eddie. Eddie pockets the numbers in the front of his vest, then scribbles down his own number and passes the pad and pen back to Mike. 

“Don’t call before ten or I’ll change my mind real quick,” Eddie warns and Mike rolls his eyes while Dustin gives a more serious nod. 

“We won’t, promise,” he says firmly and Eddie nods before Robin abruptly claps her hands together. 

“Alright, let’s get the last of it in here and help Max unpack, alright? Steve,” she offers him her hand and he takes it, rising with a small frown. Eddie rises as well, attire clattering as he goes, and helps carry in the last of the boxes. It only takes ten more minutes to get the rest of it, and then Wayne beckons Eddie over to him, and he separates from the group with a short wave.

“We’ll call you sometime tomorrow!” Dustin calls after him and Eddie offers a thumbs up before he falls in place next to Wayne, who clasps him on the shoulder.

“Thank you for helping today,” Susan says warmly, her waxy features looking less so after her long conversation with Wayne. 

“Course,” Eddie says with a smile of his own, slightly crooked. “Your daughter’s nice.” He adds and Susan chuckles softly.

“She can be,” she says goodnaturedly, then passes the now empty thermos into Wayne’s hands. Eddie watches his uncle give another smile and a few final pleasantries, and then they’re finally free to escape back into their own home. Eddie joins Wayne in the kitchen as he rinses the thermos clean, frowning slightly.

“Didn’t know Chief Hopper had a family,” Wayne muses, a small furrow in his brow. “Private man, he was - very private - but to think he had children? Poor kid is all alone over there, and you saw his leg, didn’t you?” Wayne fusses and Eddie rolls his eyes where he can’t see it, then smiles toothily when he looks over. 

“Yep, sure did.”

“Course you did, mighty fine thing you did with the couch. Boy shouldn’t be pushing himself.”

“Don’t assume he was,” Eddie huffs slightly, and the mild irritation in his tone has Wayne glancing at him. “He didn’t seem like he was in pain.” Dustin’s comment about him always being in pain seemed to have been just a joke, because the guy never winced once that Eddie saw. “Maybe he doesn’t need to be treated any differently,” Eddie mutters the last part somewhat bitterly, and Wayne sighs heavily as he dries the thermos on the dishcloth.

“Different isn’t always bad,” Wayne says quietly, and it’s both an agreement at his point, and a reprimand that Eddie would think of himself negatively. Eddie exhales a breath through his nose and takes the dried thermos from Wayne, putting it away. 

“Yeah,” he says after a moment, clapping him on the shoulder in gratitude. “I know,” he says in quiet appreciation before turning to walk down the hall, slipping into his bedroom. He drops backwards onto his bed, exhaling a heavy breath before looking sideways at the guitar on his wall, considering it intently.

Well. He could stand to kill a few hours, anyways.

Eddie has to deal with the kids a lot after that - especially Dustin, who seemed to want to actually be friends, not just hang out together twice a week. It’s not bad, it’s just different, and he finds himself having lunch with all three of the brats on the regular now. Luckily, his friends seem to hit it off just fine with them.

Time creeps forward. The slightly cool air of September becomes the much cooler, sometimes downright cold weather of October. The first week of the month goes by pleasantly enough, the second week promising to be slightly warmer, to the relief of everyone in Hawkins. It didn’t take much time of experiencing cold weather to want the heat of summer back again.

It’s during the second week that Eddie’s relaxing at home - it’s Saturday - and he gets a phone call. It’s only eleven, so he yanks the phone free of the hook with perhaps more force than necessary. “Eddie Munson,” he greets roughly.

“Heeey, man,” Dustin starts, a small wince in his voice, and Eddie rolls his eyes, torn between fondness and frustration. Fondness because it’s Dustin, and frustration because he can already tell he won’t like this. 

“What do you need, Henderson?” He asks mildly and Dustin clears his throat.

“It’s, um. It’s just that Robin is out of town until tomorrow, and it’s already been two days she’s been gone…” Dustin waffles for a moment while Eddie just frowns, feeling more confused than ever.

“Okay, what’s that got to do with me?” He interrupts eventually.

“Could you check in on Steve?” Dustin asks bluntly, but -- no, that doesn’t actually help him understand any more than before.

“Why does he need checking in on?” He asks slowly and Dustin sighs, loudly.

“Look, it’s complicated, it’s just - he doesn’t really have friends, and I don’t know how good he actually is at taking care of himself? He never really had to like… totally be on his own. Kind of doesn’t have… house smarts? What’s the housework equivalent of street smarts?”

“I- I don’t-” Eddie’s mouth works incredulously for a second, and then he just rolls his eyes. “Fine, I’ll check on him, but dude - what level of invalid do you think he is?” He demands, a little offended on behalf of someone he met one whole time.

“Like, solid level ten incompetent.”

“You’re a bit of a dick, Henderson,” Eddie chuckles in spite of himself. “He drink coffee?”

“Yep.”

“Cool. I’ll head over in a few. Later, punk,” he grunts to the boy before he hangs up, just barely catching the sound of a goodbye being shouted back at him. Eddie makes his way to the coffee pot to start a drip, going ahead and pouring himself a cup as well when he finds himself stifling a yawn. He pours the extra into the thermos, then debates whether he should bring a joint too, just in case - but no, probably wiser not to. Who knows how Steve felt about it all. Better not try his luck.

Eddie stomps out of his trailer, closing the door tight behind him before ducking down the steps. He strides out onto the grass, cutting through two yards to reach the large plot the Hopper mobile home was built on. It doesn’t take long to cross the distance - he notes there’s no car out front, and that makes him frown. How could the other teen get around without one? It’s not like he could walk everywhere - Eddie doesn’t think, at least.

He reaches the door and awkwardly shifts his thermos and mug so he can knock politely. There’s the muted sound of music - too quiet for him to make out - being paused, and then after a long moment, the door creaks open. Steve Hopper stares at him, blinking in a hint of surprise, and then confusion. His brow furrows slightly.

“Henderson called,” Eddie rats the kid out instantly. If he didn’t want the guy to know he basically treated him as a charity case, he shouldn’t have been so rude on the phone with Eddie. “Want coffee?” Eddie offers the thermos, and after a moment, Steve opens the screen and steps back. Eddie slips into the mobile home, finding it… surprisingly bland. There’s old furniture, a beat up TV, and a faded carpet. But scattered all over the place are small items - a throw blanket, a stuffed dog with an oddly sewn up face, and little trinkets - that are far more colorful and modern looking.

Eddie finds himself wandering to the oddly hideous stuffed dog perched on the arm of an old and worn cloth sofa, peering at it curiously. He leans in a bit to get a closer look, but that just makes it even uglier. “What, ah…” Eddie starts to ask, then pauses, frowning. He tilts his head, but no, still quite ugly. “Why?” he ultimately asks, looking questioningly at Steve, who watches in mild amusement. 

He makes facial expressions oddly, Eddie’s realizing. Like they fit uncomfortably on his face, but he’s trying his best to make it feel natural. It almost works, except there’s always a faint tension to his brow, like he’s trying not to furrow it even when he smiles.

“It’s hard to be afraid of something cute,” Steve says quietly, and the words sound almost quoted, but that just confuses him more.

He wouldn’t say the stuffed animal is in any way cute, and what does he mean by being afraid? “Phobia of dogs?” Eddie asks after a moment and Steve gives a gesture that’s half shrug and half nod. Right, that definitely cleared things up. “Well, uh… coffee,” Eddie steps closer to offer the thermos, and Steve takes it with a curious look. He doesn’t hesitate to sip at it, and he sends Eddie a startled look, making him grin crookedly. “Good, right? I added cinnamon and nutmeg,” he explains. “Really brings out the flavor.”

“It’s good.” Steve confirms, ducking his head slightly to hide a small smile. It makes Eddie’s stomach flip flop a little, but he tries to ignore that, smiling back. He realizes they’re just kind of standing there, somewhat awkwardly, and glances at the couch. By the time he looks back, Steve has started to move, sitting down at one side and gesturing for Eddie to do the same. “So, Dustin was worried?” Steve guesses quietly and Eddie sits down, sending a slightly cautious look his way.

He doesn’t want the guy angry at him for Dustin’s presumptuousness. “Uh, yeah.” He mentally scrambles for something neutral to say. “Thought I’d ease his mind and visit.” He says, instead of, kid was pretty fucking rude about it, too.

Steve just looks amused nonetheless, a small grin tugging at the corners of his lips. It’s… endearing, and Eddie looks away before he can get ideas. His gaze lands on the TV and he brightens. Steve follows his gaze immediately and gestures with his hand. “I don’t really use it much, no remote, but if you don’t mind crouching on the floor…” Steve murmurs and Eddie is already in motion, striding around the scarred wooden coffee table and crouching in front of the television. He fiddles with the buttons, turning it on and swapping channels until they get to the Looney Tunes. 

“Perfect!” Eddie chuckles, clapping his hands together once before he pushes to his feet. He sits down on the sofa and finds Steve watching the television with curious eyes. “Never too old for Tom and Jerry,” is Eddie’s wise assessment, and he sees faint confusion before it’s wiped clear, Steve’s expression becoming calm and curious instead. Eddie takes in the oddly focused way Steve observes the antics of Jerry, slightly confused by it. “Didn’t you have cartoons growing up?” he asks and Steve blinks before he smiles. It barely looks forced.

“Not really. Not until I moved in with Jim,” Steve explains and Eddie nods slowly at that, filing that away for later.

So Steve came from an abusive home, probably. He’ll try to keep that in mind. “Well, Tom and Jerry are my favorite,” Eddie confides, then frowns a bit. “Probably a bad thing, they’re pretty violent.”

“S’funny,” Steve says quietly and Eddie grins slightly, nodding.

“Yeah. It’s funny,” he agrees, slumping into his seat for the long haul. 

They spend two hours watching cartoons before it starts to approach dinner time, and Eddie risks a quick look around. The kitchen doesn’t seem very filled, and there’s a distinct lack of anything resembling a spice rack. It makes him frown slightly, and then he casts a cautious glance at Steve. He immediately tenses, because Steve’s noticed his frown, and is following his gaze to the kitchen with a frown of his own. He looks a bit uneasy, like he’s worried something is wrong that he hasn’t realized yet.

Dustin said he wasn’t house smart, that undoubtedly included cooking… 

“Sorry, it’s just - uh, are you hungry?” Eddie asks, trying to come up with a way to offer to make food without imposing or being insulting. Steve blinks, tearing his gaze from the kitchen to eye Eddie thoughtfully. Then, he smiles, soft but warm. 

“Yes, but I’m… not very good at cooking.” Steve explains slowly and Eddie nods.

“That’s fine, do you want to go to my- uh, shit,” he belatedly remembers Steve’s leg, wincing and floundering for a way to ask without sounding like an ass. “Um, we can… walk?” he asks, wincing, because yeah - that was smooth, Munson.

Luckily, Steve yet again just looks amused by his social fuckups, smiling faintly, and Eddie tentatively smiles back. “Yes, we can walk,” he confirms, clearly entertained instead of offended, and Eddie’s shoulders relax. He offers a slightly sheepish smile and walks to the door, holding it and the screen door open for Steve. The man strides through easily enough, but getting down the stairs is slightly slower, with Steve having to do it one step at a time. He doesn’t seem to be in pain, though, and leans on the railing the whole way, so Eddie just tries really hard not to hover - which means he awkwardly hovers - as he descends. They reach the bottom without incident, and Steve continues walking just fine enough, so Eddie shrugs and takes a slight lead.

“Wayne won’t be home til probably after we’ve made everything. If it’s too much, we can just eat together in my room once he gets home,” Eddie offers, because he’s seen how socially awkward the other teen is, and how damn reclusive he seems to be. Eddie only ever sees Robin drive in and out of the place, occasionally with Nancy Wheeler, but usually alone. He hasn’t actually seen Steve leave once since the Hargrove lady moved in.

Steve shakes his head though, smiling slightly. “It’s fine,” he promises and Eddie nods. They reach his trailer soon enough, and Eddie watches with pinched eyes as Steve climbs up the steps, then leads him swiftly inside. 

“Are you craving anything? I’ve got, uh,” Eddie strides straight for the kitchen, tugging open the fridge, though he already has a pretty good idea. “Got, um, chicken, some sausage… oh, pork chops,” Eddie flashes a grin when he spots that, eagerly pulling them out. “Wayne must’ve pulled them out of the freezer - you have a strong opinion on pork chops?” he asks and Steve arches a brow before shaking his head. “Cool, I’ll oven bake them,” Eddie decides. “Want to help, or just watch?”

“Ah… help?” Steve offers, so uncertainly that it makes Eddie grin crookedly at him. 

“I’ll give you the easy job - cooking the green beans in some butter.” Eddie promises, and then proceeds to walk him through it. He first shows Steve how to bread and prep the pork chops, then sears them on the stovetop before putting them in the oven. “Might be a bit more work than you’d want for your first ever meal on your own, but it’s pretty simple,” Eddie muses as he explains, then pulls out the green beans and butter as the meat bakes. He walks Steve through it all, and by the time he pulls the pork chops out, their veggies are ready. Eddie grabs three dinner rolls from the pantry, and the meal is ready.

It’s just as they’re wrapping everything up that Wayne walks into the house, his eyes scanning over them briefly before he offers a tired smile. “Smells good, Eddie. Nice to see you, Steve,” he greets warmly and Eddie holds up a plate in display.

“Come dish up,” he says and Wayne enters the crowded kitchen. Eddie’s quick to fill all three plates with food, then stops long enough to put the leftovers in tupperware (leaving them on the counter in case someone wants seconds) and rinse off the dishes before eating. 

“If I wait to clean until after I eat, nothing gets clean,” Eddie admits with a small shrug, shameless of his habit of food-induced laziness. They all settle in the living room, Wayne in the armchair and the two young adults on the sofa. It’s a bit awkward to eat with a knife with his plate on the coffee table, but Eddie has years of experience - not really a lot of space to spare for a dining table in a mobile home. Besides, they don’t hunch awkwardly for nearly long enough for the posture to hurt them.

Steve carefully slices off some of the pork chop, eyeing it with - in Eddie’s opinion - unwarranted doubt. He takes the bite anyways, chewing it consideringly as Wayne turns on the television, switching it to the news. “Good?” Eddie asks lightly as Steve’s eyes widen slightly. He nods, seeming unduly surprised by how tasty the meal is. It more bemuses Eddie than offends him, because Steve proceeds to clean his plate with vigor. “You, ah… not had pork chops like that before?” he asks after a moment, curious at his strong reaction.

It makes Steve look off to the side, somewhat sheepishly. “No… I usually eat TV dinners,” he admits and Eddie can’t help the appalled face he makes.

“TV dinners? That’s- that’s unhealthy, that’s what that is,” Eddie determines condemningly and Steve blinks at him, then looks amused again. “No one taught you to cook?” Eddie continues, baffled, and Steve shakes his head.

“No. Jim tried, when we first moved in, but… the smoke,” Steve gestures vaguely, grinning a bit at the memory, and Eddie’s surprised to hear Wayne chuckle at that.

“Ah, yeah, Hop never was a good cook. His wife made all the meals in that house before everything, bless their souls,” Wayne sighs slightly and Eddie peers at him curiously, but doesn’t ask. It’s the first he’s ever heard of Hopper having been married. 

“You knew them?” Steve asks in soft surprise and Wayne blinks slightly, like he hadn’t expected to be asked to elaborate, and then smiles tiredly.

“Yeah, I knew them. Diane was a wonderful woman, and Sara… she was a real sweet kid.” Wayne shakes his head sadly for a moment, then clears his throat. “But I went to school with Hopper. He was a year ahead of me,” Wayne explains and Steve smiles slightly, just a touch sad.

“I’d like to hear more, one day,” Steve says and Wayne nods solemnly.

“Say the word, kid. Might need a beer first, though. S’always hard, talking of the past.” Wayne murmurs and Eddie sends him a sympathetic look. He knows Wayne hadn’t been friends with Hopper, but you didn’t have to be friends to mourn someone. 

They fall into a comfortable, if slightly awkward silence, and then Eddie gathers everyone’s plates and rinses them off, setting them aside to clean later. He catches Wayne sending him a glance as he walks out of the kitchen and he rolls his eyes. Almost twenty, and the man still doesn’t trust him to clean up after himself.

Eddie sits back down on the sofa, watching the news talk about boring shit - the weather, the current state of livestock farming in the country, a speech from Reagan that makes his brain try to evacuate through his ears from sheer blah. Luckily, it doesn’t take long for him to note the time, and he sends Steve a considering look to find the other male looking somewhat tired. “Want to head back?” Eddie suggests, eager to escape the mind numbing tube, and Steve smiles slightly before nodding.

Eddie stands first and discretely offers Steve his hand - he saw the boy just slightly struggle to stand on his own in his trailer - and Steve accepts it, so he helps him to his feet. Eddie turns, waving to Wayne as he goes. “I’ll be back,” he says, and gets a grunt for his efforts. He leads Steve out of the trailer, and then sets a slow and casual pace towards his own. 

It’s a nice night, actually. The breeze is gentle, the air just cool enough to be comfortable, and the crickets are loud at work as they meander through the grass. It’s silent as they go, but it’s comfortable, all the way until they reach Steve’s door. He turns to face Eddie, then, frowning slightly. “Thank you, for today. Dustin says-... he’s not wrong,” Steve admits, making a slight face as he does. “I’m pretty… inept… at basic stuff.”

He seems a bit embarrassed to admit this, so Eddie flashes him a slight smile. “Gotta start somewhere,” he points out reasonably, because by this point, he figures the guy’s life pre-Jim Hopper had been abusive at best, and astronomically shitty at worst. Steve smiles at that, though, and nods slightly.

“I’ll try to make pork chops next week.” He says aloud, seeming to decide it even as he does, and Eddie grins brightly at that.

“Awesome. Do you want me to come over and help? Remind you if you forget a step?” He offers, hoping he doesn’t come off as condescending in his lighthearted attempt to spend more time with the teen. 

Luckily, yet again, Steve seems to understand what he means even when he struggles to state it clearly, and smiles softly. “That sounds good. I’d like that,” he says and Eddie smiles back for a long moment.

A too long moment. He blinks and abruptly straightens, offering his hand in a wave. Steve doesn’t seem to find anything odd, at least, just waving back before slipping inside his home. Eddie waits until he hears the lock click, then starts to make his way back home, frowning softly to himself.

He needs to be more careful, or he’ll lose a friend before he even makes it.

Chapter Text

October, 1985

It wasn’t until six days later that Steve gives Eddie a call to let him know he’s making dinner. Eddie immediately heads over, pausing only long enough to grab a container of rosemary, just in case Steve needs a little extra seasoning. He pockets it and heads out the door, speed walking to the Hopper trailer in his eagerness. He reaches the trailer in no time at all, knocking politely and waiting a moment. He can hear music again, quiet and muffled, and this time Steve doesn’t pause it before he opens the door.

Eddie grins brightly the moment he sees him, trying not to look too excited and probably failing, based off how startled - and then amused - Steve looks in response. He doesn’t say anything, he just opens the door wider and steps back, and Eddie slips into the trailer. It’s a bit warm inside because they’d had a hot day, hot for September at least, and two different box fans are humming loudly in the living room. 

Eddie can hear the music much more clearly, now. It comes from the record player in the corner, and it sounds like… “Is this Jim Croce?” he asks incredulously, unable to keep the judgment from his tone. “You listen to Jim Croce?” he wonders, and looks sideways at Steve.

He immediately falters, stomach sinking, because the boy doesn’t look amused - he looks irritated, eyes pinched at the corners. “Is something wrong with that?” Steve asks, a slight coldness to his tone, and Eddie winces slightly.

“Ah, no, sorry.” Eddie hadn’t meant to be actually insulting, but yeah, it had absolutely come out that way, and that was on him. “It’s just- not the style of music I listen to. It’s not bad!” Eddie adds quickly, because even if he doesn’t like it that doesn’t make it bad. He doesn’t believe in ‘bad’ music. 

Steve is just frowning harder now, but at the same time, he looks less angry. His eyes are slightly less squinty. But there’s suspicion, now, like he’s not sure he can believe Eddie’s words. 

“No, seriously, I shouldn’t have tried to tease, but that’s all it was. Sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you,” Eddie promises and, to his relief, Steve just watches a moment longer before giving a small nod.

He’s still frowning, but it’s less intense now. “...He was Jim’s favorite,” Steve explains after a moment, and Eddie abruptly realizes he can feel much worse than he already had.

He actually reaches up to cover his eyes, grimacing. “Fuck, I’m sorry.” Eddie apologizes even more sincerely than before, and Steve must hear it, because he just sends Eddie a slightly tired look.

Goddamn it, he took two steps into this place and instantly lodged his foot so far into his mouth he fucking choked.  

“...It’s okay,” Steve says after a moment. “You didn’t mean it. Come on,” he gestures for Eddie to follow, then leads him to the kitchen area, pulling out food. “Robin went shopping for me, but she got…” Steve reaches down and picks up a small baggie of sting green beans and Eddie instantly realizes the problem.

He’d shown Steve how to prepare canned green beans, not how to actually cut and cook them. “It’s cool, I’ll show you how to cook them. We’ll saute them,” Eddie decides aloud, taking the baggie from Steve. 

“Saute?” he echoes and Eddie grins a bit incredulously.

“Wow, you really were sheltered, huh?” he asks lightly and Steve’s cheeks take on a slightly red quality. “It’s like, um… frying something on a stovetop, with butter or oil, or some other fat.” Eddie explains, fishing around for a saucepan. He finds one easily enough, Steve grabbing hold of the largest one to prepare the pork chops in. 

They cook in silence, but in spite of the rough start (good going, Eddie), it’s surprisingly comfortable. They fry everything up quickly enough, and then they dish it out on Steve’s colorful, random plates, each one a different design than the last. Steve’s has flower patterns all over it, but Eddie’s has a hideously patriotic eagle clutching the American flag spanning the face of it. He delightfully detests it. 

Jim Croce’s voice washes over them as they eat, and Eddie only pays attention to it enough to know that, yeah, he pretty much hates Jim Croce. 

He does not, in any form, attempt to voice this opinion.

A new song starts playing and Steve slowly stops eating. It takes Eddie a moment to notice, and then he glances sideways to see a melancholy expression has washed over the other boy.

Like the singin’ bird and the croakin’ toad,

I got a name, I got a name.

And I carry it with me like my daddy did,

But I’m livin’ the dream, that he kept hid…

Eddie hesitates a moment, unsure if he should interrupt the thoughts he can see Steve spiraling down. After a second, he decides it’s better to risk upsetting him. “You alright?” he asks quietly, nudging his knee against Steve’s, and it makes the man startle slightly. He blinks and looks down at his plate, swallowing thickly.

Like the north wind whistling down the sky,

I got a song, I got a song…

“Yeah. It’s just… he used to play this for my sister and I,” Steve explains slowly. “It was his favorite one to play. Because he… gave us our names.” Steve murmurs, and Eddie nods slowly, thinking he understands that.

“It meant a lot to me when Wayne gave me his name.” Eddie admits softly and Steve blinks in surprise, then looks sideways at him curiously. “Munson wasn’t my mom’s name, she actually did marry my dad, but I didn’t want to keep his shitty name.” Eddie grimaces, remembering his father and the horrific way he’d treated his mom - for the few years Eddie had had to witness things. “So I get that, I think. It’s… part of who you are,” Eddie muses and Steve stares at him, an odd expression on his face, for a long moment before he gives a slow nod.

And I carry it with me and I sing it loud,

If it gets me nowhere, I go there proud.

“Yeah. It is,” Steve says, then looks away and narrows his eyes in determination. “He is part of who I am,” Steve decides and Eddie grins a bit at the lightening mood, evident in his tone.

“Exactly. I-” the ringing of a phone, shrill and piercing, rudely interrupts him, and Eddie glances at the clock with a small frown, seeing Steve do the same. It’s almost nine at night, and Steve immediately looks anxious when he notices this. “Everything alright?” Eddie asks, even though he obviously hasn’t answered the phone and doesn’t know. Steve just shrugs, standing up carefully and pausing the record player before moving to the phone.

He interrupts the next ring when he answers it, frowning. “Hello?” he asks, then falls silent, listening intently. It doesn’t take long for his face to start to fall, his eyes looking heavy. Eddie watches in open concern, but Steve’s attention is entirely on the phone at the moment. “Yeah. Yeah, put her on,” Steve insists after a moment, and then takes a breath. “Hey, Jane,” he murmurs softly, like he’s speaking to a wounded animal. There’s a long minute of silence, punctuated by many sad winces from Steve at whatever this Jane is saying.

Jane… Jane… isn’t that his sister? He only mentioned her once in passing, but he thinks that’s the name. 

“I’m sorry,” Steve murmurs, and he really does sound it. He sounds like whatever Jane is telling him is causing him physical pain. “She shouldn’t have said that. No, you did the right thing, it wouldn’t… it would be bad to draw attention…” After another long minute, the sadness is starting to twist into anger. “Do you want me to come visit? I can,” Steve offers, and it sounds as dangerous as a threat, but for who, Eddie isn’t sure. 

Slowly, Steve’s shoulders relax again, and then he huffs a quiet breath. “Fine. Again tonight?” he asks, and it’s vague, but some sort of offer that he nods at the response to a moment later. “Alright. Tonight, then. It’ll be a couple more hours before I sleep,” he warns, and then nods again. “Okay. …Okay, I’ll talk to you then,” he promises before he delicately hangs up the phone. He stands there frowning at the hook for a long minute, then he takes a breath, smooths the worry from his expression, and turns back to Eddie.

Eddie simply arches a brow, curiosity threatening to boil over, but he firmly bites his tongue. “Was that your sister?” he asks instead of actually prying into the problem, but Steve still looks worried again as he nods.

“Yes, Jane,” he confirms, frowning softly. “She had… an incident, at school,” Steve explains, somewhat jerkily, and Eddie frowns at him in concern. “Someone was cruel to her.”

“Ah… how old is she?” he asks and Steve reaches up to scratch at the side of his cheek. 

“She just turned fourteen,” Steve says, frowning severely. “They’re calling her a weirdo at school. Why would someone do that?” Steve asks, frustration obvious, and Eddie can’t help but send him a slightly incredulous look.

“Uh, because people suck?” he offers and Steve looks at him questioningly, frowning. “I mean, they call me the freak at my school,” Eddie shrugs lightly even if the thought makes his stomach squirm with discomfort. He hates that damn school, and being a senior for another year in a row wasn’t helping his reputation. 

He feels both honored, and confused, by the baffled look Steve sends him. “Why?” Steve asks emphatically and Eddie sends him a long look.

He’d almost think the guy had been popular at school, to be so lost on how someone could be treated poorly, but looking at the genuine confusion, like he’d never even seen classmates being awful to each other… it makes him think the guy never went to school at all, and that’s… certainly odd.

He considers how to actually answer Steve’s question for a second. “People don’t like things that are different,” he summarizes eventually, and Steve watches him intently. “I read an article once that said people are naturally afraid of things they don’t understand. And that fear turns into hate that they direct at that person or thing they don’t understand. It’s like… it’s like what just happened with Jim Croce,” Eddie explains, blushing a bit when Steve arches a brow at that.

“See, I like a different kind of music. And I don’t get why you like this music, because it’s not music that I like, so I’m like… inherently incapable of getting why you like it. It just doesn’t make me feel the same way it makes you feel,” Eddie says slowly. “So because of that, my first reaction was to say something rude about your music, even though you like it and there’s nothing wrong with that.” His brow furrows slightly as he struggles to find the right words. “So it’s like…” He stares at Steve, watching the way the man holds himself, and realizes he has a better analogy, snapping his fingers together.

“I got it. You know how you get weird when people touch you?” Eddie asks eagerly and Steve’s brow lifts again in a slightly unimpressed way, but he nods. “Right, so when people touch you, it feels weird, right? You don’t like it?” He asks and Steve blinks, slowly nodding again. “It’s just like that. So like if your sister is like me, and she behaves in a way that isn’t how everyone around her behaves, everyone around her finds it weird. And because they find it weird, they dislike it, and they want it to stop, so they’re mean to her.”

“It’s totally a shitty thing to do, and I’m really sorry your sister’s going through it, but that’s the strict why of it, even if it’s a dumb argument and they should just control their impulsive desire to be shitty people.” Eddie concludes with a small shrug and Steve looks thoughtfully at the floor for a long minute.

Silence reigns, and then he sighs quietly. “Alright. I don’t like it, but at least it makes... some sense,” Steve admits slowly, his frown only deepening. “I just… wish they’d be kinder. She’s been through too much,” he sighs, reaching up to rub at his eyes.

Eddie watches sympathetically. If Steve had been abused, his sister must’ve been too, and that was probably even harder. Witnessing a loved one get hurt was always harder than getting hurt yourself. “Just, ah… remind her - it’s not the quantity of friends that matter, but the quality.” Eddie lectures and Steve sends him a questioning look. “It’s just - if she can’t befriend everyone, she shouldn’t try, and definitely shouldn’t beat herself up or feel lonely when it doesn’t work. She should befriend one or two people like her, instead. You don’t need a lot of friends to fight off feeling lonely in school, you just need a really good one to make everything better.”

Only after saying it does he pause and grimace, reflecting on his words and finding them oddly condescending. Or just plain stupid. Obviously she’ll want to make more friends than not, and will feel lonely when it doesn’t work out. He opens his mouth to dismiss his own statement, but Steve nods his head before he can.

“Yeah,” Steve muses slowly. “I just hope she can make even the one,” he admits quietly and Eddie sympathizes.

“Statistically, odds are in her favor.” Eddie says with a small shrug of a shoulder. “If I could find not just one friend, but three likeminded individuals, in a small ass town like Hawkins? Not even including the brats? She’ll have an easy time making one or two in a place like-... where did the Byers move to? California?” he tries to remember, squinting a bit in concentration, and Steve nods. “Yeah, a place like California? She’ll have an easy time.” Eddie frowns softly, fingers suddenly itching for a joint at the longing turn his thoughts just made. “I’ve always dreamed of moving there,” he admits quietly, not even meaning to speak the words, and only when Steve responds does he realize he did.

“Really? Why?” Steve asks curiously and Eddie blinks, opening his mouth - before he remembers where he is and promptly closes it.

He smiles, perhaps a bit too strained from the way it makes Steve look slightly concerned. “Ah, no reason. They’re just… a bit more accepting down there.” Eddie says, then clears his throat. “Of, you know, being weird.” he awkwardly looks off to the side, pretty confident that Steve’s too socially inept to realize what he accidentally hinted at, but still uncomfortable.

“Right.” Steve says slowly. He watches Eddie for a moment, who tries not to shift uncomfortably, and then glances at the clock and frowns faintly. Eddie follows his gaze, sighing at the time. Almost ten. 

“I should go,” Eddie says apologetically. “School in the morning.” He explains and Steve makes a slightly dismissive gesture with his hand. 

“Thanks for helping me cook,” Steve says and Eddie flashes him a smile.

“No problem.” He says and starts to search for a way to say goodbye when Steve clearly hesitates, wanting to say something. He waits a moment for the boy to gather his courage.

“I… bought chicken breasts, as well. If you wanted to… show me to cook something else?” Steve asks slowly, hesitant, and Eddie’s stomach flipflops distractingly. He finds himself smiling a little too widely before he corrects it and tries to look more casual.

“Sure. Tomorrow?” He offers warmly and Steve smiles softly back.

“Tomorrow,” he agrees, and just like that, it’s time to go. Eddie heads to the door, which Steve opens for him, and slips outside.

“Sleep well,” Eddie murmurs, avoiding looking at Steve’s face as he does, lest he make another dopey expression.

“You too,” Steve responds before slowly closing the door. He locks it quietly, and Eddie turns to leave.

Behind the door, Steve retreats to his bedroom, turning on the white noise machine before laying out in bed. He covers his eyes with a sleeping mask, then quietly reaches out with his mind for the lone light he can see there, a thousand miles away. He easily slips neatly into Jane’s dream, where he can hold her properly, and let her cry on him over the cruelty of teenagers.

Eddie goes over frequently over the next week, and each time is worse than the last. Not really - he’s just being dramatic - but seriously, Steve’s taste in music!

“Elvis, really?” Eddie asks with a wince when he walks into the trailer, unable to help himself, but luckily, his tone is gentler and Steve just rolls his eyes goodnaturedly about it. 

“His voice is magic,” Steve informs him bluntly, his eyes narrowed as if daring him to argue, and Eddie just kind of stalls for a second because that was-

That was kind of gay, right? Calling a guy’s voice magic? He’s totally right, Eddie might hate the music style of most of his songs, but he still admires Elvis’ ridiculously distinctive voice. But… no, Steve’s probably just unaware of how odd it was to say something like that. “Okay, I’ll give you that, but his ballads? Really, Steve?” Eddie whines, as Elvis gently croons Always On My Mind in the background. “Not even at least A Little Less Conversation?” He implores and Steve cracks an outright grin at that. It’s a crooked thing and slightly shy, and all the cuter for it. 

He doesn’t have dimples. Eddie’s grateful for God’s mercy, or his smile might actually stop his heart. He finds himself smiling back before realizing that, god damn it, he did it dopily again. He quickly corrects and then looks away, desperately searching for a distraction. He finds it when his eyes land on that horrible ugly dog again, picking it up with a soft snort. “God, this thing is hideous,” he mutters and it’s accidentally just loud enough for Steve to hear, but thankfully the other guy just laughs quietly at that.

“My sister made it for me.” Steve says fondly and Eddie nods, patting the dog right on its hideously sewn up face. It looks almost like someone had just cut it into quarters or something. 

“How’s she doing?” he asks as Steve heads into the kitchen, wandering after him. He leans on the counter, watching over it as Steve starts rinsing off vegetables in the sink. He’s a fast learner, Steve, though admittedly Eddie hasn’t really taught him anything hard. 

“Still getting bullied. I want to just-” Steve starts to say, but cuts himself off before he can pick up proper steam, and sends Eddie a sheepish look. “Well. I want to make this girl cry.” He huffs and Eddie snickers.

“Mean girls are the worst.” Eddie says in agreement and Steve arches a brow.

“Mean girls?” he notes, obviously picking up on it being an actual phrase, not just girls-who-are-mean, and Eddie nods.

“Yeah, like… the preppy, bratty girls who stand around in groups making fun of other people and giggling to each other. They’ve got a whole level of hell specially for them, I’m pretty sure,” Eddie says lightly and Steve grins slightly.

“I read Dante’s Inferno ,” Steve says conversationally at the mention of hell having levels, and Eddie’s eyes widen.

“What- really?” he asks eagerly and Steve nods. “Wow, I wouldn’t have pegged you for the type to read edgy shit like that.”

“Edgy?” Steve arches a brow, then shakes his head before he can even try to explain. “I read the entire Divine Comedy when I was, um… fourteen?” Steve’s brow furrows as he says this, clearly unsure before he simply shrugs and moves on. “I wasn’t allowed to read much that wasn’t… philosophical in nature,” he explains and Eddie just kind of stares at him, because what the fuck kind of weird rule was that. 

Then he realizes, and his eyes narrow dangerously. “Wait. So you’ve never read fantasy, then?” he demands, and then pauses. “Non-religious fantasy?” he clarifies, because Inferno could technically be argued-... well, whatever.

“No?” Steve tilts his head slightly, curious where he’s going with this, as he moves the cleaned vegetables and chicken breasts to the cutting board.

“So you’ve never read Lord of the Rings,” Eddie determines, frowning severely when Steve just shakes his head in a slightly apologetic, mostly amused way. Eddie clicks his tongue against his upper teeth. “Well. That’s just unconstitutional,” he judges and Steve snorts softly.

“I don’t think it is,” he says wryly and Eddie sends him a mournful look.

“It is in my Constitution, the only Constitution that matters,” Eddie pouts playfully for a moment before he looks more serious. “But really, I could loan you my copy if you’d be interested? It’s all about sword fighting and elves and goblins and stuff, it’s super cool,” Eddie promises and Steve sends him a long, curious look. “Course, besides all the cool stuff, it’s all about telling the story of a journey, like a quest, and like… how all the characters evolve and come together. Really detailed, I promise it’ll blow your mind.”

“Sure. I don’t have much to do during the day,” Steve admits and Eddie frowns at that for a moment. He glances around the apartment as Steve moves the chicken to the pan, making a basic stir fry Eddie had taught him a few days ago. Eddie looks around, but as always, there’s… not much to see. Old records stacked against the wall - man, Eddie should really get him a cassette player - the TV that’s never turned on, the lack of book shelves or any obvious reading material…

“Why don’t you ever go out, man?” Eddie asks slowly, turning back to see Steve absolutely freeze for a moment, his back to Eddie.

It just lasts a moment, and then Steve is stirring the frying meat and veggies again. “I’m… not very comfortable with it,” he says slowly. “I do leave, just…” He trails off, then shakes his head. “It’s hard to explain,” Steve concludes shortly, clearly done talking about it, and Eddie exhales a quiet breath.

There’s a word for that, he thinks. Mentally ill people who can’t leave their homes. He’s never gotten a vibe off Steve of him being unstable, but… maybe he is? Or maybe you can be anti-leaving-the-home without being otherwise weird? 

Well, he is totally otherwise weird, but not in any way that screams mental illness. He’s just socially awkward. 

“Would you want to leave?” Eddie asks instead of voicing his suspicions, and Steve frowns at that, considering his words for a long minute.

“I don’t dislike it,” he says ultimately. “I’m not great with people, but I’m getting better. But now’s not a good time,” Steve says firmly enough that Eddie knows better than to push. He just nods, watching Steve cook for a while longer.

“Oh, add a dash of salt,” Eddie belatedly realizes, and Steve blinks before scooping up his new salt grinder. He crunches it over the pan once and then sets it aside when Eddie nods approvingly. “Well, I’ll bring you some of my books tomorrow, yeah?”

“Sounds good-” Steve is confirming when the door to the trailer abruptly opens. Steve looks up sharply, something dark crossing over his face, but it’s gone in an instant, because the only person who walks into the trailer is Robin herself. She stops short just a foot inside, the door swinging shut awkwardly behind her, and blinks at the sight of Eddie leaning against the counter as Steve cooks.

He lifts a hand and wiggles his fingers, smiling bright at the blonde.

“...Uh. Hey.” Robin greets, taking a step forward, then stopping and looking uncertain. “Was I-”

“S’fine, Robin. Food’s almost ready.” Steve interrupts and Robin blinks again, a few times, before nodding jerkily.

“R-right. Food. Um. Hi, Eddie,” Robin adds with an awkward almost-wave of her hand that comes off as weirdly adorable. Eddie just grins a bit wider.

“Hi, Robin.” He responds sweetly. Eddie makes a show of looking between her and Steve, Robin clearly trying to ask something with her eyes while Steve just stares back, unimpressed, trying to answer with his eyebrows. Eddie arches his own eyebrow, mischief curling his lips. “So… you two are together, huh?” He asks, just to be a shit, and loves how Robin goes bright red and Steve just flatly glares at him.

“I-I-.. that-.. No!” Robin manages to blurt out, and Eddie can’t keep a straight face in the face of her red cheeks and panicky-wide eyes. He chortles quietly and Robin’s eyes slowly narrow, until she strides forward and whaps him across the shoulder with her hand. “You ass!”

Eddie snickers. “Sorry, you’re an easy target,” he apologizes lightly and Robin huffs, dropping her jean purse onto the countertop before leaning against it as well. “So… you work at Family Video?” he asks, noting her uniform, and Robin sighs.

“Yeah. With Keith,” she huffs the name in distaste. “I really wish he’d stop trying to hit on me when we’re alone in there,” she complains and Eddie winces.

“Ouch. Sorry you have to deal with that,” Eddie says sympathetically and Robin nods at him. 

“Thanks, it’s a pain,” she huffs. “I used to work at Scoops Ahoy, may its ashes burn eternal,” Robin lifts a hand towards the sky as she says this, then drops it again tiredly. “But I almost wish I could go back there.”

“You don’t mean that,” Steve says, his tone amused again. “You’re just forgetting how awful the uniform was.” He says lightly and even Eddie snickers at that, because he’d visited the place during its brief run. 

The gentle voice of Elvis picks back up again, and Eddie struggles not to grimace at the beginning croonings of Love Me Tender.

“Oh my god, Steve, really?” Robin huffs in dismay and Eddie looks at her, grateful to find her as horrified as he feels. “Why are you listening to this?” She demands, and Steve blinks at her.

“I don’t know what you mean, I love Elvis,” Steve tells her and Robin rolls her eyes.

“I know, but I bought you the latest ‘Greatest Hits’ compilation and you’re choosing this instead?” For some reason, this makes Steve’s eyes absolutely glitter with hidden mirth, unseen by Eddie, who is distracted by Robin’s claims.

“Wait, Elvis can have a Greatest Hits comp that doesn’t include Love Me Tender?” Eddie asks in mock surprise and Robin snickers as Steve levels them both with unimpressed looks.

“Keep it up, I’ll dump this right into the garbage.” Steve threatens, holding the pan full of stir fry in threat. 

“You wouldn’t do that - then you’d be dinnerless, too.” Eddie accuses and Steve arches a brow.

“No, I’d just make you sit there and watch me eat a ‘godawful’ TV dinner.” He says simply and Eddie blinks at that before he has to concede.

“Alright, you win this one. We’ll behave, right, Robin? For the sake of the food,” Eddie looks at her imploringly, and she makes a show of pursing her lips in consideration before reluctantly nodding.

“Alright, feed us, then.” Robin demands and Steve rolls his eyes before he finds three bowls for them to use. Unlike his hideously American plate, these bowls are distinctly Mexican, wildly patterned in multiple colors. They’re kind of cute, actually, and Eddie admires his as he snacks on dinner. “Oh, wow, Steve, you nailed it.” Robin praises around a bite of tender chicken.

“I almost forgot the salt,” is all Steve says in response, guiding them to the living room where they all sit down properly to eat. 

“So,” Eddie peers at Robin curiously, “you’re trying to broaden his musical understanding?”

“Trying,” she emphasizes. “He listens to new music, but he never strays from his godawful roots,” she sends the pile of records a dirty look and Steve mutters something under his breath. It makes her soften slightly. “You know I’m just teasing.”

“I like the music,” Steve grumbles before taking another bite. He doesn’t actually look mad, though. 

“What if I brought over some other music?” Eddie asks and Steve arches a brow at him.

“I don’t have a cassette player,” he reminds and Eddie curses quietly - right, he’d just been thinking about that.

“Well.” He starts to speak, then pauses, then gives a small shrug. “I’ll just bring over my guitar, then,” he decides and Steve blinks at him. Off to the side, Robin arches an eyebrow.

“You gonna serenade him, Munson?” Robin asks with a smirk and Eddie fights back a flinch, sending her as level a look as he can manage. 

“Would you rather I serenade you?” he purrs, leaning in to smile at her, and it’s easy to lay it on thick when he knows with certainty there’ll be no expectation of anything afterwards. Robin makes a face at that, something slightly disgusted, and he struggles not to burst out laughing. 

“Gross,” Robin huffs at him, clearly seeing his amusement. “Fine, fine, have your boy time, I won’t tease,” she lies before glancing at the clock and sighing. “I should go,” she grumbles and Steve frowns softly.

“Already?” he asks and she nods.

“Yeah, I only had time to stop by and make sure you hadn’t died since the others last saw you,” Robin hums and Steve rolls his eyes.

“I have a radio - and a phone. Don’t act like I don’t talk to them all once a day,” Steve argues and the girl nods at that after a second.

“Okay, point,” she acknowledges. “Well, I’ll be bringing Dustin by before work tomorrow,” Robin says and Eddie arches a brow.

“You’re spending your weekend babysitting?” he asks teasingly and Steve shrugs, unashamed.

“They’re good kids,” Steve says mildly, “And besides, my weekend is eternal. I don’t work,” he reminds flatly and Eddie snickers quietly at that. 

“Alright, true… I should be getting home, too. Walk you to the car?” Eddie offers Robin, and she flashes him a startled smile before nodding. He holds the door open for her and nods to Steve, who waves absently before gathering up their discarded dishes. “I’ll be by tomorrow,” Eddie promises and gets a nod before he closes the door. 

When he turns to walk down the stairs, he finds Robin watching him intently. “What?” He asks as he starts down off the porch.

“Nothing, it’s just… Steve doesn’t have many friends,” Robin says as she follows after him. He strides to her car, opening the front door for her, and she grins at him for that. “How chivalrous,” she teases, but stops just short of climbing into the car, frowning at him instead. “Steve’s different,” she says bluntly and he arches a brow.

“I know that, but why is everyone acting like that’s something to warn me about?” he asks, frankly a little offended on Steve’s behalf at this point. Robin seems to startle at that, blinking at him with slightly big eyes. 

“I-... I don’t know, but I wasn’t really trying to,” Robin promises, and it’s his turn to blink at her.

“Oh. Then sorry, continue,” he gestures her on and she rolls her eyes briefly.

“Steve’s different. He doesn’t get people that well.” Robin eyes him slowly up and down, and it doesn’t feel friendly. It feels like a threat assessment, and he resists the urge to shift uncomfortably, like he has something to feel guilty of. “I do.” She informs him bluntly, lifting her chin in a challenging way. “So don’t hurt him, got it?” she demands before slipping into her seat. Eddie just kind of stands there blinking for a second, his brow furrowing, and then she wrenches the door free from under his numb grip.

“Oh, sorry,” Eddie belatedly takes a step back and Robin closes the door, then offers a brief wave, then starts to pull out.

Eddie stands there and watches her back out onto the road, then pull away. After a long moment, her taillights disappear behind the trees and other mobile homes.

Eddie frowns into the distance, her words repeating in his head, and all the foreboding implications, but… are they really foreboding? So she might’ve seen hints of his crush, that… that probably wasn’t hard, to be fair. Eddie stares too long, and his focus isn’t always on the eye area of his face. He smiles a bit too widely and, again, for kind of too long. Steve’s never seemed to notice, but Robin did after only twenty minutes with them, which… yeah…

Eddie runs a hand down his face tiredly. He really needs to stop accidentally flirting. He’s not even noticing at this point! Oh, fuck, he totally did offer to serenade Steve! In front of Robin!

He rubs his eyes a little too hard at that, making him wince. He drops his hand and abruptly jolts into motion, striding back towards his own home. 

Man… he’s really lucky Robin’s as gay as he is, so chances are she gets it and won’t say anything.

Probably.

…Right?

Chapter Text

November, 1985

November brings with it a constant cold that only completely abates at midday. It’s not so bad as to require more than a slight layering, so Eddie just considers it a welcome change from the heat of summer. He knows, by the time the first snow falls, he’ll have done a complete 180 and be dreaming of summer again instead. 

“You always want what you don’t have,” Eddie muses as he strums a few strings. Steve looks over from the kitchen, confusion obvious.

“What’s that?” Steve asks as he pours out the coffee he’d just finished making. 

Eddie runs his fingers down the neck of his guitar, sighing quietly. “Nothing, just muttering about human nature and why we always have to be contrary,” he huffs and Steve arches a brow, walking into the living room with two mugs in hand. He passes one to Eddie, who sniffs at it before flashing a smile. Steve doesn’t add nutmeg like Eddie does, but he still adds cinnamon, and uses a dash of vanilla extract as well. It’s a different flavor, but still quite good, and he sips at it appreciatively. 

Steve’s trailer’s heater is broken, so the coffee takes away some of the chill that’s settled in his fingers and toes. Steve sits down in his armchair, because Eddie and his guitar take up almost all of the sofa, especially since he’s lounged out across it currently. He sips at his drink, then runs a critical eye over Eddie. “What are you playing today?” he asks mildly and Eddie flashes a grin.

He’s yet to find a metal song that Steve actually liked and didn’t just fondly tolerate, but he’s hoping today will change that. “Metallica again,” Eddie warns and Steve huffs a soft breath. “I’m sorry Ride the Lightning was too intense for you, but maybe you’ll like Fade to Black,” Eddie argues eagerly and Steve arches a brow in disbelief, but still gestures for him to go on.

“Wow me,” Steve demands and Eddie snickers softly before setting his mug down on the coffee table - dangling precariously over the side of the sofa to do so - before resettling with his guitar across his chest. 

He strums a few notes like that, then makes himself sit up and take it more seriously. He’d brought his amp today, so the sound is perfect when he starts the first opening notes of Fade to Black. The tune is much ‘gentler’ than Ride the Lightning, and Steve seems to appreciate it as he watches. Eddie can only pay attention for the first forty-five seconds of strumming, and then it demands his full attention. 

He makes it smoothly to lyrics, feeling the shyness kick in just before he opens his mouth. As always, the first three words are embarrassingly wobbly, a problem he hasn’t had since forming an actual band with his friends, but that Steve always brings back out in him. 

“Life, it seems, will fade away,

Drifting further everyday,

Getting lost within myself -

Nothing matters, no one else,” Eddie sings his way through the beginnings of the song, eyes on his guitar as he plays carefully, determined not to fuck up even slightly with Steve’s eyes on him. 

Steve, for his part, watches intently and tries not to get lost in the way Eddie gets lost in his music.

“Emptiness is filling me,

To the point of agony,

Growing darkness taking dawn,

I was me, but now he’s gone.”  

The song is a relatively long one, almost seven full minutes of playing, and finally Eddie reaches the end of it. He strums the last few notes, then takes a breath to steady his racing heart before he lowers the guitar back to his lap. He dares to look at Steve, and finds him watching the guitar shift with slightly sad eyes. “You didn’t like it,” Eddie realizes, heart sinking, and Steve sighs.

“No, I liked it more than the others,” he promises. “A lot, actually. But it was also very sad, wasn’t it?” He notes with a small frown and Eddie blinks at him.

“Well, yeah.” Eddie clears his throat. “I read in the Rolling Stones that he wrote it about the band losing all their band equipment. The singer, James Hetfield, felt like he had nothing left without that stuff, like how could he even keep working, doing what he loved, you know? So he asked himself if he should go on, and then realized at the end that only he himself can choose to continue living while feeling so low, you know?” Eddie shakes his head slightly, frowning down at his lap. “I get that. It’s hard, sometimes.”

He doesn’t see Steve nodding at this, an intensely thoughtful expression on his face. “Yeah,” Steve murmurs, and at the odd tone in his voice, Eddie lifts his head to look at him. His heart sinks slightly because he takes one look at Steve’s face and knows he gets it. He doesn’t know why Steve gets it, but he does, and that… makes Eddie feel really fucking sad, actually. 

“Things work out, though,” Eddie muses and Steve’s gaze latches onto his. “Eventually,” he says with a shrug of one shoulder. 

“Mm.” Steve hums at that, glancing away again. His gaze latches onto the weird-faced dog for a second, then shifts to Eddie’s amplifier. 

When he says nothing for a minute, Eddie idly strums a few more chords, frowning thoughtfully. “Alright, so maybe metal is out, but there’s got to be some rock and roll you like!” Eddie frowns harder, squinting a bit in thought before he strums a certain chord and nods slightly to himself. The rhythm he starts, starts out slow and easy. Steve arches a brow, but looks more intrigued than anything, as his gaze shifts back to Eddie and locks on the shifting hands. 

Eddie strums for half a minute before crooning, “Sweeeeet… emoooootion,”

Steve blinks at him and he grins a bit at the taken aback expression, launching into one of his favorite Aerosmith songs. It’s definitely slower and sweeter than his usual choices, but it’s worth it to see Steve seeming to appreciate it, even as he’s utterly baffled by the lyrics.

“Some sweat hog mama with a face like a gent,

Said my get-up-and-go must’ve got up and went,

Well, I got good news, she’s a real good liar,

Cause the backstage boogie set your pants on fire,”

Eddie has to stifle the urge to laugh a couple of times during the song, but by the end of it, Steve is wearing a small smile and Eddie’s wearing a much larger one. He strums the last notes, letting the song trail off, and then looks at Steve expectantly. “Well?”

“I liked it,” Steve confirms, still smiling, and god, doesn’t that warm Eddie’s guts. He forces himself to look away from Steve’s pearly whites, staring down at his guitar again for a moment. “Who was that?”

“Aerosmith,” Eddie explains. “I might not love rock quite as much as metal, but Steven Tyler is a genius,” he grins slightly, lifting his gaze again. “I’ll have to play Dream On for you, I bet you’d love it. It’s a ballad, but it’s, uh… they call it a ‘power ballad’, I think, because it’s still rock ‘n’ roll.”

“Huh.” Steve looks intrigued by that, before he takes a sip of his coffee and looks pointedly at Eddie. It takes him a second to remember his own coffee, and he quickly scoops it up to drink it perhaps faster than he should. It’s gotten a little lukewarm, and he hates cold coffee, so he practically chugs it, much to Steve’s amusement.

The ringing of the phone interrupts them, and like before, the immediate reaction is to glance at the time. It’s not as late as before, only seven at night, because it’s a school night - but Steve still frowns. Eddie figures that’s because if it’s his sister, it’s four in the afternoon for her. Right after school lets out, so if something had happened again… Steve heaves to his feet - a bit slower than usual, and that makes Eddie frown - but as always, Steve seems to not be in actual pain, so he relaxes as the other teen maneuvers to the phone. 

“Hello?” Steve greets quietly, and Eddie frowns at the strangeness in his tone. He sounds uneasy, but not like something might be wrong, per se - more like whoever’s on the other end might not be friendly to him. After a second, he looks less worried, listening intently for a long minute. “Jane, that’s great,” Steve says finally, breaking out into a soft smile. It’s so warm and proud that just looking at it takes Eddie’s breath away, making him stare a little too intently. “How did Joyce react?” He asks, still smiling, even his voice warm and- and yeah, Eddie’s kind of gone for a moment, just lost staring.  

Thankfully, even with his face partially turned towards Eddie, Steve’s gaze is firmly to the side, locked on the calendar on the wall. He doesn’t seem to actually be studying it, though, paying full attention to whatever his sister’s saying.

And God, if that doesn’t make Eddie’s stomach turn to mush. The way he just so clearly cares, openly and without restraint. It’s something so unusual to see in another male, and Eddie cherishes every instance he witnesses of it. 

Steve glances his way and Eddie quickly redirects his gaze back to his guitar. There’s a slight shifting, and when he risks a glance, Steve’s leaning against the wall, facing Eddie now, though he still looks away for the most part. His gaze is on the table instead, where his hideous stuffed dog sits. “No, that’s…” he trails off, listening, before huffing a fond, quiet breath. “That’s fine, Jane, but you shouldn’t be calling me first thing after school - you know Joyce wants you to do your homework first. Does Joyce know you’re on the…” he pauses, listening.

His eyes narrow in a distinctly irritated way. “Oh, really. And what’s Jonathan doing instead of watching you?” he demands frostily and Eddie lifts his brows at the blatant disapproval. 

Whoa, protective brother moment, he deduces, impressed by how ticked Steve manages to look without even twisting up his face. It’s all in the narrowed eyes and the thinning of his lips.

“You tell him to expect a call from me tomorrow. At a reasonable goddamn hour, got it?” Steve hisses and then glares off at the wall for a long minute as he listens. Eventually, he rolls his eyes in exasperation, lips curling in reluctant amusement. “Alright, alright. I can't talk now, I've got company, but tonight I’ll-” Steve cuts off abruptly, gaze flicking to Eddie, then back to the phone. “Um. Tonight, alright?” He settles on vaguely and that makes Eddie frown a bit, trying not to feel offended.

It felt like he was avoiding saying something around Eddie, but he tells himself it was probably just something private - he has no right to details of Steve’s life. 

He shakes his head a bit to clear the dumb reaction, at which point Steve has hung up and is making his way back to his chair. He sits down, just a touch heavily, before stretching his left leg out carefully. Eddie eyes him for a moment. “You looked like a real proud brother,” he says, just a hint teasing, and Steve’s cheeks don’t redden at all. He just shrugs, and somehow, that’s even more warming than shyness. 

“She got her first progress report. B’s in every class.” Steve says proudly, not even hesitating, and God if that doesn’t make Eddie smile a bit too happily.

“Really? That’s great,” Eddie says, though he does find it a touch odd to celebrate progress reports by high school age.

Maybe something shines through, or maybe Steve draws the conclusion himself, because his brows furrow slightly. “Maybe that’s odd to brag about? But it’s her first ever. We didn’t… go to school.” Steve explains, slowly, and Eddie’s brows come together at that one.

“So you were like, homeschooled?” he guesses and Steve gives a tiny, half shrug. Eddie figures he understands the reluctance to talk about it - home-schooled in what he already knew to be an abusive home? H’yikes. “Uh, well,” Eddie fishes around for a second, “then that’s even more impressive. School’s hard, dude, and all B’s in her first six weeks ever? That’s pretty fantastic,” Eddie praises, and he doesn’t even have to fake it. Lord knows he’s impressed - he got mostly D’s last year, embarrassingly enough.

Steve’s smile comes a bit easier at that, shoulders relaxing slightly. “Yeah, she’s really smart. Not like me - I still struggle to get things,” Steve says with a sigh and Eddie frowns at him.

“Steve, you aren’t an idiot - I’m an idiot, I failed school twice ,” he huffs, only for Steve to take his turn to glare.

“You’re not stupid.” Steve informs him - demands him to believe, really, with how forcefully he says it. “You’re not. I’ve seen you play,” he reminds him, glaring at him as if daring him to argue.

Eddie just kind of blinks at him, his mouth feeling oddly dry. His head feeling oddly dazed. “Um.” He opens his mouth, closes it, then takes a second and tries again. “First of all, that’s art, not smarts. Second of all, maybe none of us are dumb, and schools are, like the rest of society,” Eddie decides in just that moment. Fuck it, shelve all the blame on schools. He’s not dumb, grades are! 

The thing is, Steve seems to really believe it, though. He nods firmly in agreement, but still levels Eddie with a sour look for a moment longer. “You’re not stupid,” Steve repeats sternly, then stands up and marches their empty coffee mugs to the sink to rinse them. 

Eddie frowns down at the hand still on the neck of his guitar, his other hand plucking lightly at a few strings. He feels… weirdly touched, but also kind of blindsided. He doesn’t think anyone but Wayne has ever told him he wasn’t stupid. 

Eddie hesitates a moment, then gathers up his things, unplugging the guitar from the amp. He looks over at Steve in the kitchen, watching his movements as he cleans the mugs. “I’m going to head home for the night. It’ll be a couple days before I can come over again - busy weekend. Wayne wants me to take a trip to Fort Wayne to get parts for our heater - it always blows out this time of year,” Eddie says with a sigh, glancing over at Steve’s own heater. “Need me to grab you anything?” He asks with a small frown, since all he knows is that the thing is busted.

“It’s fine. Nancy’s going to get me a new one this weekend.” Steve reassures, sending the heater a critical look. 

“I still can’t believe you’re friends with Wheeler. How’d you ever even meet her?” Eddie wonders and Steve gives a small shrug.

“My sister’s dating her brother,” he explains briefly.

“Oh,” Eddie murmurs, frowning slightly. “Is that why he’s always in such a shitty mood? Cause she’s in Cali?”

“No, Nancy says he’s just naturally kind of a jerk. Jim thought so, too, that was for sure,” Steve says with a soft snort, shaking his head at whatever memory is playing in his head. After a moment, he scans over Eddie briefly, and then smiles, somewhat tiredly. “Have a good night,” he tells him, and Eddie tells himself not to read into how warm the other boy sounds. He’s just… kind, Steve is. He doesn’t seem to notice how his words come off sometimes, either, which makes Eddie feel like a dick for getting flustered by them.

Like he does now, smiling back somewhat shyly, and then awkwardly hefting his guitar over his back and his amp up onto a shoulder. “See you,” he says - also too warmly, fuck - and then ducks out of the trailer posthaste. He almost trips on the second to last step, catches himself precariously before he plants both feet again. “Goddamn,” he mutters, embarrassed at himself. At least he’d already closed the door before almost eating it and wrecking his shit. 

“Get ahold of yourself, Munson,” he grumbles before speedwalking as casually as someone can speedwalk, right back to his own trailer. If he’s still blushing when he walks in, Wayne doesn’t seem to notice, or at least doesn’t comment. He just wishes him good night on his way by. 

Eddie learns how to play Dream On over the next two weeks. It’s somewhat mortifying, because Wayne is there for 20% of the learning process, and sends him knowingly amused looks every time he passes Eddie’s room. He wishes he’d at least gone with Cryin’, which was more heavy rock, but then again, can you really learn to sing any power ballad for your crush without it being horribly embarrassing? 

He can’t even pretend he’s just doing it to introduce Steve to new music, at this point - he’s put way too much goddamn effort into it to be able to just pass it off. Even in his own head, he knows the reality. He knows there’s a good chance Steve will love this song, so he wants to learn it so he can play a song Steve actually enjoys. Sure, he finds some of Eddie’s favorites pleasantly tolerable - which, how did that manage to be nearly as insulting as it felt? - but he didn’t like any of them. He’d never go out of his way to listen to them. 

Two weeks he spent on this one, broken up by periods of school and D&D, and when he’s finally confident he’s mastered it, he’s quite pleased with himself - and very nervous, besides. 

It’s with a slightly fluttery heart that he makes his way to Steve’s trailer, amp on his shoulder and guitar in hand. Play it cool, Munson, he tells himself, trying to calm his anxieties as he reaches the other teen’s door. He hesitates a second before knocking.

The soft music that seems to always be playing in the background gets a touch louder when Steve opens the door, peering at him briefly before stepping back to let him through. 

“Morning,” Eddie greets him and Steve smiles at him, a touch tiredly. 

“I just started a pot,” Steve tells him, even as the scent of coffee, mixed with vanilla, fills the air. Eddie slips into the mobile home, setting his things down next to the sofa, propping his guitar against the armrest. He sends a cautious look Steve’s way, finding him in the kitchen, hovering over the coffee machine. The other boy looks tired, he takes immediate note of, and maybe a bit pale, as well. Or maybe the shadows under his eyes are just darker than before, making him look pale in comparison. 

“Bad night?” Eddie asks sympathetically, wondering if he shouldn’t save Dream On for another day.

“It’s fine,” Steve says dismissively, pulling the pot off the machine to pour two cups. His mugs, just like everything he owns, are a wide variety of different designs and styles just thrown together. One mug is even outright shaped like a skull, albeit an unusually colorful one (he thinks he’s seen skulls like these in Mexican shops, but he can’t recall the name of them) which Steve puts Eddie’s coffee in for him.

Eddie takes a second to admire the lime green color, little orange and red and blue flowers scattered all over it, before he attempts to sip from it. The awkward shaped lip makes half his coffee go down his chin instead and he snorts in amusement even as he hastily wipes it away. 

Steve flashes him a small grin before he moves back to the kitchen, grabbing a paper towel and shoving it at Eddie. “Sorry, I didn’t think about the shape.”

“No, it’s fine, it’s just coffee with extra challenge,” Eddie promises quickly, taking a more thought out, better angled sip that does not go down his shirt. “Where’d you even get this? No way it was sold in Hawkins,” Eddie says confidently and Steve nods.

“Jane sent it from California. Said I needed more color,” Steve says mildly and Eddie chuckles.

“Well, she has good taste. Really digging the theme,” he taps the eyeholes of the skull pointedly and Steve smiles for a moment longer. Then he moves over to the record player, stopping the music and dropping them into abrupt, thought comfortable, silence. Steve moves over to the armchair, then, and Eddie notes the way his leg seems to limp just a little. Usually, over small distances and at slow speeds, you can’t even tell anything is funny with his gait, but this time it seems obvious. 

Eddie watches in growing worry as Steve tightly grips the armrests as he lowers himself, carefully, into the seat. “Are you alright?” Eddie asks quietly, taking his own seat and holding his mug carefully. Steve nods absently, not even looking up from his mug.

“I’m fine,” he promises simply, sipping at his drink. “You brought your set,” he notes, eyeing the guitar and amp, and Eddie hesitates at the redirection before slowly nodding. Maybe he’s just reading into it, and there really is nothing wrong, but concern is picking away at his mind. 

“Yeeeah,” He drawls out slightly before accepting the subject change. “I thought I’d play Dream On today,” he says, and tries his damndest not to blush.

Steve seems to perk up at that, though, his interest clear. “You mentioned that one before. Aerosmith, right?”

“You got it,” Eddie confirms with a finger gun that makes Steve grin slightly. A man’s voice washes over them from the radio as a new song starts, and Eddie doesn’t know the name of the singer, but he recognizes the song easily enough. “Wild World, right?” he asks, and Steve nods briefly.

“It’s one of my favorites. It makes me think of my sister,” Steve admits and Eddie frowns slightly.

But if you want to leave, take good care,

Hope you have a lot of nice things to wear,

But then a lot of good things turn bad out there.

“Isn’t that song like, super condescending?” Eddie asks, unable to quite help it, and Steve actually scowls at that. His heart skips a beat at the idea of pissing him off, but Steve doesn’t look mad, just… teased? 

“No.” He huffs emphatically. 

I’ll always remember you like a child, girl,

“Dude, that’s like, a thousand percent condescending,” Eddie argues, lips twitching as Steve’s eyes narrow dangerously.

“If I were thinking about it in terms of a grown woman, yes,” Steve complains, “but I’m thinking about it in terms of my actually-a-child sister,” he folds his arms across his chest as he argues this, still holding his mug carefully. “Baby sister, not a girlfriend,” he concludes and Eddie fights back a small grin at his emphatic summary. 

“Okay, sure, it’s definitely not condescending,” Eddie agrees graciously, lips twitching, and Steve shoots him a flat, narrow look for a long minute before he gives in, too, and fondly rolls his eyes.

“Jane says it is, too,” he admits after a moment and Eddie can’t help but chuckle at that, though he tries. Which makes it even funnier when Steve glares halfheartedly again before smiling a bit in spite of himself.

“D’you want me to play later?” Eddie asks after a moment, and Steve presses his lips together slightly before shaking his head.

“No, I’ll get it,” he starts to rise, gripping the armrest tightly with one hand and his other still holding his mug, but just before he dips his chest so gravity takes him to his feet, Eddie pushes to his own feet.

“No, stay down,” Eddie insists, trying to hide his worry at how awkward the other teen’s movements seem to be today. He never gives any indication that he’s in pain, but he must be at least stiff today to be moving so slow. Steve sighs as he resettles, frowning severely, but he doesn’t say anything as Eddie moves to the record player and pulls the needle off the disk. “Bad day?” Eddie asks in some concern, hoping he doesn’t irritate the man for inquiring after his health. 

Steve just exhales, though, slowly and through his nose. “It’s fine,” he says like before, which makes Eddie frown, because he’s starting to realize that might just be a go-to response instead of the actual truth. 

He isn’t sure how to ask without being offensively intrusive, though, so he just nods and sits back down, pulling his guitar into his lap. It takes a moment to get everything set up, and then he looks at Steve, who watches him with a focused gaze. It always unnerves him, just a little, how intently Steve listens to him - but it also helps fight his self consciousness, because clearly Steve enjoys their little sessions, just like Eddie does.

He clears his throat, tapping fingers anxiously against the body of his guitar before he starts the opening strums. After almost forty seconds of strumming, he nervously clears his throat again - damn anxiety - and starts. As usual, his voice warbles slightly at the beginning, before he steadies his heart and his hands, falling into the music.

“Every time I look in the mirror, 

All these lines on my face getting clearer,

The past is gone,

And it went by, like dusk to dawn,”

He continues on, slowly building up, and it’s hard sometimes to put the right emotion in his voice. Or rather, it’s a bit too easy, because he really wants Steve to like this song - to like any song he plays - and it makes him almost put too much emotion in his voice.

“You know it’s true,” he sings, and braces himself for the more emotional portion,

“All the things, come back to you -

Sing with me, sing for a year,

Sing for the laughter and sing for the tear,

Sing with me, if it’s just for today,

Maybe tomorrow the good lord will take you away,”

When he gets to the ‘dream on’ part, the music takes a bit of a change. It had been hard, learning to convey the right music on just an electric guitar instead of the many instruments they use in the actual song. 

But he makes it through the rest of the song without mistake, something that has him grinning in relief and pride at the end of it. Two weeks, and he didn’t make a single mistake! Except for the voice warbling, but he can’t help that. 

He strums the last few notes, then lifts his head to look at Steve - and he has a smile on his own face, warm and… affectionate, he decides is the safe term. 

His own smile grows. “You liked it,” he realizes, chest warming at that, and only more so when Steve dips his head.

“It was really good. Less, um. Yelling the lyrics.” Steve says with a small wince at his words, and Eddie’s jaw drops in offense.

“Less yelling? I don’t yell lyrics, that’s… that’s uncultured,” he protests strongly, glaring at Steve, which turns into a pout when the other teen snickers at him. “You have no taste,” Eddie accuses and Steve looks at him with sparkling eyes.

“And yet, you’re the one now singing songs I actually like,” Steve says in blatant amusement, lips pulling up into a smile again, and Eddie’s stomach flutters distractingly.

His mouth goes slightly dry, because Steve’s expression, all warmth and joy and… and affection, definitely just perfectly normal affection, makes him feel all tense and sweaty. He finds himself staring for several seconds too long, Steve just warmly smiling back, before Eddie drops his gaze to his guitar and anxiously runs his hand down the neck of it, touching the strings neurotically. 

“Th-,” he starts, then clears his throat, because wow dry mouth, “That’s just to try and broaden your horizons,” he huffs, bracing himself and lifting his gaze again. Steve’s still smiling, but it’s soft and fond now, and it’s still too much but he can pretend it isn’t. “At least Aerosmith is still rock.” He grumbles and Steve chuckles quietly. “But you did like it?” he clarifies, and Steve nods.

“I did,” he confirms.

“Cool, cool,” Eddie murmurs, tapping fingers against his guitar again. Nerves have him suddenly itching for a joint, or even a cigarette, though he tries not to indulge that habit. Still, now he has a better idea of how to find other songs Steve likes. He has a base to work off, now. Dream On was a hit, as mortifying as it had been to learn it. There’s another song he’s thought of, one way outside his usual style, that he thinks Steve would like - but he’s a bit out of practice with it, and hesitates to play it now.

After a moment, though, he hesitantly strums the first few chords. Steve immediately looks at him intently again, and he has to redirect his gaze to the strings to keep from getting distracted and fucking it up. His brow furrows a bit in concentration, trying to remember the motions even as he performs them. Luckily, it’s a pretty gentle strumming for once, something that has Steve looking curious. 

Finally, after almost a full minute of strumming, he starts to sing. 

“There’s a lady who’s sure,

All that glitters is gold,

And she’s buying a stairway to heaven.

When she gets there, she knows,

If the stores are all closed,

With a word she can get what she came for.”  

The song is so at odds with what he’s used to playing that his palms feel a little sweaty as he continues on. His eyes narrow in focus, ignoring the curls of hair that’ve fallen into his ducked face, and strums carefully. There’s an awful lot of crooning in this song, something he’s not all that adept at, but he thinks he manages a passable form of it.

“And it’s whispered that soon,

If we all call the tune,

Then the piper will lead us to reason,

And a new day will dawn,

For those who stand long,

And the forests will echo with laughter.”  

It’s a pretty long song - not as long as some of the Metallica songs he’s played (The Call of Ktulu, anyone?) but still long. The rhythm stays fairly basic and slow for the first half, before it picks up abruptly. He’s really not adept at hitting the high notes throughout this whole tangent, so he doesn’t really try, doing it in his own vocal style instead.

He sings the last chorus, then drawls out the final words, “And she’s buying a stairway… to heaven,” before slowing his hands. Then he takes a moment to feel a bit embarrassed before risking a glance at Steve.

His smile is even softer this time. “I really liked that,” he says and Eddie smiles shyly, ducking his head again. He picks at the strings distractedly for a moment. “Who was that?”

“Uh, Led Zeppelin, actually - not that you know why that’s surprising. They’re usually pretty metal,” he explains before lifting his gaze ahead, peering at Steve from under his bangs. Luckily, Steve isn’t leveling that too-soft smile his way anymore, he’s frowning down at his mug in disapproval, and Eddie takes the opportunity to both jump into motion and change the subject.

He feels really awkward about having sung a song that required so much gentle singing. “More coffee?” he asks, already rising and setting his guitar against the side of the sofa. He grabs his own mug even as Steve nods, then takes his, too. He heads to the machine, starting up a pot after a minute or two of preparing it all. Then he leans against the counter and sighs quietly, watching Steve rise to his feet. He does it a bit stiffly, swaying briefly once he’s upright before he shakes it off and walks more or less normally to the TV. He bends down at the waist to fidget with the buttons, and Eddie winces a bit at how obvious it is that he avoids bending his knee. 

By the time he gets the coffee sorted and rounds the counters again, Steve’s sitting back down, the TV now playing the news, albeit with random bouts of static. “You really need a new TV,” Eddie murmurs as he passes the mug - blue with hand painted words in yellow that cheerily proclaim, We Lived! - back to Steve. The other teen snorts as he cradles it with both hands.

“Not really a priority,” he huffs and Eddie has to concede that, retaking his own seat.

“Sure, but don’t you want to actually see what you’re trying to watch?” he asks, as static shoots across the screen again. Steve mutters something under his breath at that, trying to hide it behind his mug as he takes a sip, and Eddie just ducks his head and snickers for a moment. “Sorry, fine, I won’t bitch about the TV and how much better you could do,” he says lightly.

“That sounded like bitching to me,” Steve grumbles, saying the word ‘bitching’ a bit awkwardly, and Eddie stifles another snicker. After a second, he’s distracted by Steve turning the mug around in his hands, flashing the words Eddie’s way.

“That’s a cute mug. Who made it?” he asks, and Steve’s smile turns fond again.

“Jane did. Not long after we got to Hopper’s. We were painting our rooms and she had blue paint, and I had yellow-”

“You painted your room yellow?” Eddie wonders in horror and is easily ignored.

“-So she painted the mug with them when I wasn’t looking. Ruined one of Hopper's ugly eagle ones,” he says, shaking his head, “With the flag,” he adds and Eddie blinks for a second because that was delivered a bit oddly, but then he’s distracted by another realization.

We Lived! The mug proclaims in cheery, finger-painted yellow letters, and they made it after getting to Hoppers. ‘We lived’... through an abusive home? Jesus, what the- “What a sense of humor,” he notes, managing to only sound a little appalled, and Steve outright laughs at that, quiet and breathy and instantly distracting because holy shit what a sound-.

“You have no idea,” Steve notes with a wry, crooked smile before he takes another sip. 

Eddie doesn’t stay long that night. He heads home after promising to teach Steve to make lasagna (taking a moment to reflect that he, himself, needs to learn to make lasagna, post haste) and walks in to find Wayne home early for once. Eddie lets the door swing shut behind him - pausing to lock it - before he sets his amp down and moves to take the guitar to his room. Wayne’s gaze follows him as he goes, and he’s already blushing, just a bit, when he puts the guitar away and walks back out. 

Wayne was watching a baseball game, but he looks away from it to peer intently at Eddie instead. “Nice night?” he asks, and Eddie fights the urge to blush harder, shooting his uncle a disgruntled look.

“It was fine,” he huffs, turning to look away, fiddling with a dish on the counter half a room away from the knowing gaze of his uncle.

He gets a moment of silence, just long enough to think he’s getting away, before Wayne asks, in a kinder tone, “Does he appreciate you?” 

For a second, Eddie kind of stalls - because did he have to put it that way? It makes it sound like they’re in a relationship, which Eddie finds distracting to think about - before he softens as well. He exhales a quiet breath, recognizing that Wayne recognized how nervous he’d been all week leading up to today.

He offers his uncle a brief but warm smile before looking down again. Distracting himself with straightening one of Uncle Wayne’s fifteen billion coffee mug displays. 

He thinks about how warm Steve’s gaze had been, how soft his smile, and feels a slight curling in his stomach. “Yeah,” he confirms eventually. “I think he does.”

And Wayne just kind of hums for a moment, turning back to the TV. After a few seconds, he says a simple, quiet, “Good.”

Chapter Text

December, 1985

When Eddie decides to swing by somewhat early in the day for once - before noon, because it’s a weekend and he doesn’t have school - he stops one trailer away and rethinks his plan.

Because there are two separate cars parked in front of Steve’s place, something distinctly unusual for the guy. The last thing he wants to do is intrude, and he hesitates for a long minute, but it is a good day, and he really wants to spend time with Steve. And besides, if it’s just the brats, he probably won’t be intruding, right?

So with a small shrug to himself, Eddie takes a breath and continues his approach. He makes it to the car parked first in the driveway, and then all he can hear is yelling.

“Dustin- Dustin! Put that down now- no, Max, don’t help him,” Steve is protesting at something. Eddie grins a bit at the stress in his tone and steps up to the door. “You’re going to break them!” Steve snaps at someone just before Eddie knocks on the door. 

“We’re not gonna break them, mom, ” Dustin fires back in complaint as steps - very loudly - approach the door. Eddie’s brow rises, fully expecting someone other than Steve, because he walks very lightly. Almost neurotically so, though Eddie tries not to think hard on why Steve, who came from an abusive home, would need to have mastered the skill of skulking about. 

The door wrenches open and Mike Wheeler blinks up at Eddie, a scowl already on his face. “What do you want?” He demands and Eddie raises both brows now.

“To visit the person who actually lives here?” he offers sarcastically and Mike rolls his eyes before stepping away from the door.

“Eddie’s here!” he announces to the entire trailer, which… is packed, Eddie realizes upon entering. Mike isn’t the only Wheeler here - Nancy, who must’ve brought the car Eddie didn’t recognize, is sitting on the sofa next to Robin, while Max and Dustin fight over a… decorative plate? There’s an open cardboard box next to them, and a new display rack in front of them, clearly just put together based off the packaging littering the floor. Robin and Nancy both watch in clear amusement, sitting back and nursing… wine. 

“What’s going on?” Eddie wonders aloud. What in the world did he just walk in on? 

Robin’s head twists to look at him from over the back of the sofa. “Heeey, Eddie,” she greets cheerily, not sounding at all intoxicated, so he guesses they just started. Nancy turns too, offering a brief wave.

“Robin. Wheeler,” he adds, a bit haltingly, because he’s never properly met the Queen of Hawkins. Well, Ex-Queen now, since her popularity had dipped slightly lately. 

“Munson,” Nancy returns friendly enough and he nods at her. Steve looks over from where he’d been scowling at the two kids and the box, offering a tired smile.

“There’s coffee ready if you want some,” Steve offers, smile widening for a moment before it drops and his eyes narrow. “Unless you want alcohol like these two unhelpful persons,” he adds with a sideways look that Nancy sends an overly innocent look at, and Robin immediately imitates, making her eyes too wide and putting a hand dramatically on her chest.

“I had a long day at work,” Robin tries to say, also dramatically, and Steve’s scoff cuts her off.

“It’s eleven AM. You have the weekend off.”

“Right!” Robin confirms, brightening as she lifts a finger, “Which is exactly why I need to take advantage and rest. Because, you know, work is so tough,” Robin emphasizes, lifting her wineglass to take a sip.

It’s a truly ugly wineglass, made of dark green stained glass, the twisted stem probably meant to give it a fancy look but only making it more gaudy. 

Steve scoffs again and opens his mouth to say something, but Dustin chooses that moment to fish for something in the mystery box between them, sending porcelain clattering. Steve instantly whips around, glaring sharply at Dustin, who freezes comically before slowly extracting a decorative… tea cup… from the box. It’s a pale yellow teacup with pink flowers not just painted on, but also shaped on, giving it a very… busy appearance.

“Put it away,” Steve hisses and Dustin nods solemnly before he makes a show of placing the teacup, very delicately, atop one of the new display shelves. He fidgets with it briefly to make it centered, then turns and smiles toothily (toothlessly?) at Steve. 

“There. It’s put away.” Dustin says confidently, undeterred by Steve’s flat look. Max, for her part, just snickers and sneaks a small figurine out of the box, stepping behind Steve to put it on the bottom shelf- where Dustin promptly smacks her hand. “No! The animals go on the middle shelf!”

“Why the middle one? What does it matter?” Max argues right back, instantly inflamed, and Steve just tilts his head back and loudly groans.

“Can an actual adult assist me?” he asks, or more accurately prays, and Eddie chuckles in spite of himself. 

“We already put the shelf together, that was the hard job,” Robin complains, and Nancy lifts a power drill out from in front of the sofa and gives it a quick whirr. 

“Super hard,” Nancy agrees, making it clear that it was, in fact, quite easy, and that the drill was the only one who did the hard work. 

Eddie steps in cleanly, stopping at Steve’s side and peering into the box he and the two gremlins are surrounding. “What’s this stuff?” he asks curiously, because inside is a host of random decorative… things. He thinks there’s even a blanket at the bottom of the pile. Little animal figurines are tucked into a smaller chest inside the box, which has been opened to display the small zoo within. They’re made of a black stone of some sort, something that, when Eddie picks up a cat figure to poke at, leaves fingerprints behind quite clearly. 

“Jane sent me… random things,” Steve sighs after struggling for the right word. Dustin reaches in to grab at another object - a crystal ball on a gaudy silver stand - and gets his hand slapped by Steve’s for his efforts. “Go sit down, you fucking menaces,” Steve growls and Dustin pouts dramatically while Max just rolls her eyes. She proceeds to flop gracelessly into the armchair, holding the decorative plate from before and turning it in her hands. It’s shaped vaguely like a flower, with flows and curves where the petals would sit, and has meaningless geometric designs all over it in gold filigree. 

“Whhhhy?” Eddie draws out slowly, peering at the amalgamation of truly unattractive display items, and Steve gives a defeated sigh.

“She has an allowance, now. She won’t stop buying me things,” Steve complains, glaring at the box between them. “I have to keep sneaking money to Joyce to make up for it,” he adds and Eddie chuckles at his good nature. “She even got me wine glasses, and you see where those wound up,” he adds with a roll of his eyes.

Eddie reaches out to set the small black cat figurine onto the display next to the other animal, taking a moment to straighten it out properly. The display shelf is actually kind of nice, if as mis-matched as everything Steve owns. Seriously, the guy has no sense of style - or, worse, he has a sense for every single style in history, all mashed together.

It’s made of solid wood, though, and is stained nice and smooth. Then he looks back down at the box and winces a bit. “Your sister has, uh… an interesting taste,” he notes as he picks up a crystal bowl with a small cringe. It’s stained blue, with little flowers carved into the rim of the crystal.

Across the room, Robin and Nancy quietly snicker, while Steve just sends Eddie a slight frown. “She’s exploring,” he says defensively, but with just enough of a sniff for Eddie to know he’s not mad, so he flashes the other teen a crooked grin. He ducks down to pick up another animal figurine - same black stone, leaving the same fingerprints all over it though he tries not to - and sends Steve a curious look. 

“What are these things made of, anyways?” 

“Uh,” Steve’s brow furrows for a second, clearly trying to recall. “Hematite? I think? She says it came from a volcano. I guess they have those in California.”

“Oh, totally, I learned about that in Earth Science,” Eddie confirms immediately, nodding along, because that was one class he’d actually paid attention to. He has no idea why, but he can still recall every type of cloud in existence, and the basic outline of most of the faultlines. “California’s right on a fault line,” he says sagely and gets an utterly confused look from Steve.

“A fault line?” he echoes and Eddie blinks, genuinely taken aback this time.

But then again, maybe homeschooling in an abusive household didn’t focus on things like Earth science. 

“Long story, Steve. I’ll get you a map and a book,” Nancy promises and the slight crease in Steve’s brow eases. He looks a bit interested, nodding along, and Eddie decides to just ignore the weirdness and take the moment. 

“You know what plate tectonics are?” Eddie asks eagerly and the crease promptly returns, but Steve looks more intrigued than anything as he solemnly shakes his head. “Okay, cool, so there are these huge things way deep in the Earth called plates, and … ”

He natters on for a while as they slowly unpack the box, taking frequent breaks to gesture with his hands to try and explain or demonstrate something for Steve. Steve listens intently, nodding along at all the right moments, while the kids sit off to the side arguing about television, and Nancy and Robin slowly get deeper into their cups. 

It takes them an hour to unpack the box. It’s not how Eddie had planned on spending his day, but he can’t say he has any regrets when the day finally winds to an end. Eddie prepares to take his leave, shooing the kids out as he goes, while Nancy and Robin have, at this point, glued themselves to the sofa with wine. Considering they won’t be going anywhere for the moment, Eddie’s planning on driving the brats home himself.

Eddie wavers when it’s just the females left in the room with him and Steve, Max gathering the last of her work - they’d done homework while there - and sends Steve a small frown. “They good?” he asks, gesturing to the two drunk females, who look up from the TV at their mention.

“We’re fine,” Robin promises, only slurring a little, and Steve rolls his eyes in a distinctly fond manner.

“It’s cool, they’re very calm drunks. They’ll crash here tonight,” Steve explains as Max zips her backpack shut and shrugs it on. She turns to leave, but Steve’s hand lands on her shoulder as she passes, his fond smile vanishing. Max stops, looking at him questioningly, while he looks back down severely.

“Do you want to stay the night with us? You can talk with Jane on my phone,” he offers and Eddie frowns slightly, wondering at the severity in his tone.

Was something wrong with Max’ home? With her home life? Why was Steve stopping her from leaving, and why did she look relieved at the offer.

“Um, yeah,” Max agrees after a second of waffling. “That sounds good,” she says, exhaling heavily as she drops her bookbag again. Steve just nods solemnly and shoos her back to the other girls, who immediately drag her into a cuddle pile that she seems to reluctantly appreciate.

While they start talking about doing their hair - and Eddie tries hard not to laugh at Max’ instant look of dismay and regret - he looks over at Steve and flashes him a warm smile.

He’s getting sappy again. All covered in sticky sap, because Steve is just so damn kind, and he doesn’t know what’s going on with Max’ home life but he’ll be keeping an eye out at night from now on. Because clearly it’s enough for Steve to intervene.

“I’ll see you in a couple days,” Eddie offers and Steve smiles back faintly and nods.

“See you later, then.” 

Eddie takes his leave, trying not to think on how nice Steve’s voice is when he speaks softly, and walks out of the trailer to find the kids already halfway to his place. 

“OI! You coming?” Dustin hollers back at him and Eddie rolls his eyes.

“Little shits,” he grumbles before going in pursuit.

With December comes the beginnings of the most frigid season. Temperatures drop more and more each day, and the sun is out for shorter and shorter a time, warming Indiana a little less each day. On Wednesday, a week and a half after the Great Saturday Get-Together, it’s cold enough to leave a decently thick layer of frost on everything when he steps out his door. He grumbles under his breath about ice and unpleasantness as he clambers into his van, but mostly thinks nothing of it.

That lasts until lunch, when The Brats corner him in the cafeteria. It’s not like they don’t always sit together anyways, but this time they beat Gareth and the others there, and surround Eddie by filling the seats the seniors would usually take. Eddie immediately sends them a wary look that becomes more serious when he sees Dustin’s intense frown.

“Can you skip today?” He demands and Eddie actually freezes mid-chew his surprise is so great - because he’s genuinely never been asked to skip before.

Then he swallows and grins a bit crookedly. “It would be my absolute honor. I have chemistry as my next class.” He says, a bit dramatically - he puts a hand to his chest and everything - before frowning again. “Why, what’s up?” he demands much more sharply, taking another bite of his shitty sandwich and eating hastily before he apparently has to take off.

All three start to talk at once, and Eddie catches random words like well, and Steve, and storm, before his irritated look has Dustin hushing the other two. At Eddie’s impatient gesture, still chewing, the boy takes charge.

“It’s supposed to storm today, and it’s cold as shit out,” Dustin says bluntly. “And Steve is literal garbage at taking care of himself. He’s gonna be having a bad leg day today,” he summarizes and Eddie blinks slowly, swallowing a mouthful before attempting to speak.

Bad leg day, due to the cold and a storm. Makes sense, even if Eddie hadn’t realized… well, he’s not sure, actually. He should’ve understood Steve would be suffering, he has a limp, doesn’t he? That doesn’t happen without some damage, and any damage is at risk of hurting miserably later on. Eddie gets that - Wayne has a fucked up back from long days working construction. It had gotten bad enough he’d needed to swap to a desk job or risk eventual paralysis. His uncle still has days, especially during the winter, that are just miserable for him. 

“Ah, fuck,” Eddie mutters, setting down his sandwich. Suddenly, he’s not very hungry. “How bad is it? I’ve never actually… don’t tell me about his leg, cause he hasn’t yet, and that’s his to share - but is it like, so bad he can’t move around?” He asks in concern, gnawing on his lip as he tries to think of ways to help. Coffee, definitely. Snagging Wayne’s heated blanket from the linen closet? Consider it done. 

“Yeah, he can get… uh, bedridden, I guess,” Lucas confirms grimly and Eddie hates the way his stomach just seems to twist at that. It’s empathy, but the painful kind, and he curses himself for getting so attached to Steve in the first place. The guy probably had no idea how much Eddie likes him, and he feels oddly like he’s taking advantage of the guy for feeling so strongly about him. 

“Jesus,” Eddie sighs, tapping fingers against the tabletop erratically for a few seconds of thought. It helps him to think, sometimes, to give into the fidgeting urge like this. “Any tips? Does he even have painkillers?”

“Yeah but he doesn’t take them unless someone makes him,” Dustin says with a frustrated roll of his eyes. “Robin can’t get there until after school, but I don’t want him just laying there in pain, y’know? Usually Hopper would-...” Dustin cuts off with a wince that both other boys reflect, Mike looking down at the table for a long minute.

“Right. Got it,” Eddie says quietly. “Fuck it, I’ll dip out now,” he says, even as he sees Gareth and the others approaching, looking a touch confused at their spots having been claimed. Eddie stuffs a huge bite of his crummy sandwich into his mouth, then heads their way, cutting in before they reach the table. “I gotta head out, not in the mood for fucking chemistry,” he says with a huff he doesn’t really have to fake. Jeff raises his brows but nods, and after a short exchange with them, Eddie slips out the doors leading to the outdoor seating and cuts around the back of the school.

He slips into his van unaccosted and starts it up, peeling out of the lot a bit faster than he probably needs to. He forces himself to slow down a minute or two later - can’t help Steve at all if he gets into an accident and breaks his neck - but glares a bit at the road as he goes.

He feels weirdly frustrated with Steve, and he’s trying not to. Like, why didn’t the guy call him? Eddie could’ve swung by that morning and just skipped school entirely.

Then again, Steve was totally the type to avoid saying anything just to avoid that. He knows how hard Eddie’s working this year, and he just kind of screams the self-sacrificial type. Especially if Eddie’s suspicions are right and he’s misread things this whole time. He thought Dustin’s claim from the very beginning that Steve was in constant pain was just a joke, thought it was a certainty when time passed and he never saw evidence otherwise. But it’s not like Wayne spends all day bitching about being in pain - when you’re in it literally always, you learn to just kind of work through it, because the alternative is what, exactly? Become a drug addict, the only way to find constant relief? 

Still, Steve never let on, because Steve… wasn’t the type to complain about anything, actually. Eddie drums his fingers impatiently against the steering wheel at this realization. 

Steve was just grateful to get what he got, and Eddie doesn’t like this epiphany. He doesn’t like thinking about how shitty Steve’s pre-Jim Hopper life was to make him that way.

Even the adorable way he was with the weird shit Jane sent him took a new, slightly unpleasant twist at that. If anyone else had received a box of truly hideous decorations, they’d probably keep the box somewhere safe, and leave everything inside it except for when they want to poke through it and fondly remember things. They wouldn’t buy a whole ass new shelf just to display it all in the proudest older brother way possible. 

…Actually, no, he’s probably just overthinking at this point. There’s probably no secret drive behind that caused by intense abuse - Steve is just kind of adorable about his sister in that way. Eddie takes a few breaths to chill out a bit and then wants to roll his eyes, just a little. Yeah, no, Steve’s 100% just that kind of dorky guy. 

It doesn’t take much longer to reach the trailer park, and Eddie smoothly pulls up in front of his own. He takes a second to get the lock open and then slips inside, starting up the coffee machine with a recipe he learned from his neighbor when he was growing up. It had his usual dose of cinnamon in it, but instead of nutmeg, he adds a little cayenne pepper. It sounds bizarre, but tastes quite good, and really helps warm the body. Perfect for cold, muggy days. 

While it brews, he fetches the heated blanket, then pours the coffee into two thermoses. He makes sure the mouths are firmly closed, then bundles them to his chest with the blanket, freeing up one arm. He makes his way to Steve’s trailer, and only when he’s already knocked does it occur to him that, if the guy is bedridden, how’s he getting to the door?

So he stands there for about a full thirty seconds wondering what he could do to get into the trailer, preferably contacting Steve first, somehow, before the door clicks as it’s unlocked. 

“Come in!” he hears from way deep in the trailer, and that… really fucking confuses him for a second.

Didn’t he just hear it unlock? Were there two people in there? But when he opens the door and cautiously steps inside, no, the trailer appears empty. “Steve?” he calls, warily, because what is happening right now?

“Bedroom!” Steve calls back, his voice a bit rough, and Eddie frowns. He closes the door behind him, locking it, and then feels more confused because that sure sounded like the lock he’d just heard. But… there’s no way. It must’ve just… moved, for some reason, but been unlocked all along.

Or he didn’t hear anything at all, and he’s freaking out over nothing. That sounds probable, he’s always been a bit twitchy. Eddie rubs at his eyes for a second before he sends one final look at the lock. 

Yeah. He just misheard things, or misunderstood what he heard. Something.

Eddie huffs and heads off deeper into the trailer, finding the bedroom easily, since the door is still open. Sure enough, Steve’s in bed, and wearing a deep furrow between his brows. It makes Eddie pause briefly, frustration spiking again, because even now the guy isn’t really making a pained face. He just looks mildly disgruntled with the ceiling for no apparent reason.

“You… jeez,” Eddie groans, shaking his head while Steve just kind of blinks at him in a confused way. “Next time, call me,” he presses before setting his bundle of stuff at the foot of his bed. Steve sits up a bit on his elbows to peer at him as Eddie passes him one thermos, then sets the other aside and looks for a plug. It takes him a second to conclude he can’t find one anywhere, and he looks at Steve with a frown, holding the cord to the blanket in his hands in silent question.

“It’s under the bed,” Steve says apologetically and Eddie stares at him with slightly narrowed eyes for a moment before he just sighs. 

“Alright, whatever.” He grumbles a bit as he gets on the floor, wriggling half his torso under the foot of the bed. Luckily, Steve keeps his room pretty neat - Eddie suspects he greatly lacks in things to make a mess with - and he manages to plug it in without much hassle. Then he gets back to his feet and tosses the blanket over Steve’s already present one, spreading it out.

“It’s not as good as a heating pad,” Eddie admits, frowning for a long minute as he takes in his work. “But it should help. Dustin said you have medication,” he says, quite demandingly, and looks at Steve intently. Steve’s lips thin a bit in a displeased way, but his eyes also crease in an almost humored way, which makes for a slightly confusing expression before he just outright rolls his eyes.

“Dustin should mind his business. I’m fine,” he says and Eddie levels him with a disbelieving stare. Steve frowns slightly. “I…” he starts, then takes a breath, scowling for a moment. “I don’t like taking them. I don’t like… things that affect my head.”

Eddie almost snorts in dismay, but he catches himself and just thanks his sensibility for avoiding bringing any joints by in all his visits. He gets the feeling Steve wouldn’t approve, or at least wouldn’t want to be part of it. “I can’t say I get that, at all,” Eddie confesses. “I like things that affect my head a little too much,” he adds, rubbing at his temple for a second as he tries to think on how to approach this. “Clearly, you’re in pain. You didn’t even answer the door,” which still confuses him, but he’s trying not to think about that right now. “Just tell me where they are. You have them, right?”

Steve scowls down at the blanket for a moment before he exhales a breath. “I won’t take it while I’m alone here. I’ll take it when Robin gets here,” he offers in compromise, and Eddie frowns. He watches Steve’s expression, which is a bit waxy but very firm, and rocks back on his heels a bit.

He adjusts his angle. “Take it and I’ll stay with you until she gets here. And even after, if you feel up for it.” He offers his own compromise, and Steve eyes him intently in the wake of it.

He looks a little startled, and just a hint confused, by Eddie’s offer. Before Eddie can feel offended about that, though, he exhales a small breath. “I’m not good company.”

“Whatever, I can entertain myself,” Eddie promises easily and Steve watches him for a long moment before he finally nods.

“Bathroom cabinet, second shelf, the blue bottle,” he says quietly, and Eddie immediately heads back into the hallway. It takes just a moment to find the bottle, reading the instructions quickly before fishing out a single pill. He carries it back to the room to find Steve has picked up the thermos he’d been passed, and is currently sniffing at it with a curious face. 

“It’s got cayenne pepper in it, but it should taste good.” Eddie promises, then falters as he passes the pill to him. “Well, actually, it’s been like five years since I last made it, so it might suck, but if it does, I poured myself some, so we’ll suffer together,” he promises with a toothy smile that makes Steve duck his head with a grin of his own.

He sips at the coffee tentatively, then lifts his brows. “I like it,” he praises, then frowns a bit. “Odd aftertaste, but it’s… not bad.” 

“A solid ‘not bad’, eh?” Eddie jokes before sipping at his own. It’s about as weird as he remembers, but still tasty. Eddie watches as Steve takes a larger drink and uses it to take the painkiller, then sighs softly as he relaxes. Steve has a small desk and chair in his room, the latter which Eddie steals and rolls over to his bedside. He drops himself into it, spinning around in a quick circle - which gets him an amused smile from Steve that he cheekily grins back at. “So, what shall we do for the next three and a half hours?” he asks, adding on the time it takes for Robin to cart all the brats home, and Steve sighs softly.

“I really don’t know,” he admits, and Eddie takes a slow look around. He doesn’t see anything promising at first - and the TV in the living room is way too heavy to haul in here on his own - before his eyes land on the book on Steve’s end table. His eyes light up and he scoops it up, finding the latest dogeared page and flipping to it. “Oh, fuck yeah, the Bridge of Khazad-dum. Can I read this to you? I totally do the best voices,” Eddie promises, smiling winningly at him, and might even cross his fingers until Steve gives a short nod, looking amused again. 

“Sure. I might fall asleep eventually, though,” he warns, and Eddie shakes his head.

“Not with my amazing narration you won’t. Brace yourself for the most exciting reading of your life,” Eddie promises serenely before he starts from the top of the page. He clears his throat, then deepens his voice to make it sound more aged.

“‘If we had come by the main road down from the upper halls, we would have been trapped here,’ said Gandalf. ‘Let us hope that the fire now lies between us and pursuit. Come! There is no time to lose.’

Even as he spoke they heard again the pursuing drum-beat:” Eddie dramatically deepens his voice. “Doom, doom doom. Away beyond the shadows at the western end of the hall came cries and horn-calls. Doom, doom: the pillars seemed to tremble and the flames to quiver.

‘Now for the last race!’ said Gandalf. ‘If the sun is shining outside, we may still escape. After me!’”

Eddie carries through a dramatic rendition of everything, changing voices for each character, and even goes so far as to jump to his feet and thrust a fake sword skywards as he proclaims, You cannot pass!

Steve grins all the way through it, right up until the point where he almost cries a little, looking very sad to think of Gandalf as gone forever. Eddie has to keep his mouth shut on that one, just kind of nodding sympathetically to his complaints. 

It takes about thirty minutes for the painkillers to kick in, and about an hour for Steve to finally drift asleep. Eddie immediately falls silent, dogearring the page to mark it before he sits back and continues reading on silently from there. He’s finished the book and gone hunting (successfully) for The Two Towers, and is about seventy pages in when Robin quietly slips into the trailer. 

She’s still pocketting her keys when she reaches the doorway, peering in cautiously before offering a relieved grin. Eddie sets the book aside and follows her out into the living room. “Thanks for this, he’s a stubborn ass who would never take it without someone pushing him to,” Robin says with a small sigh as she pours herself some tea from the fridge. 

“Well, now that I know when it might happen, hopefully next time I can swing by in the morning.” Eddie says a bit plaintively and Robin winces a bit.

“Sorry, I should have thought to call you when I saw the storm alert this morning.” As if on cue, thunder rumbles overhead, and they both glance out the window to see it’s darkened out. “He won’t take it without someone here with him, though,” she adds with a small frown, picking at the flowery designs on her cup. 

“Yeah, what’s up with that? He seems… on edge,” Eddie says cautiously and Robin frowns for a moment.

“It’s called, um, hypervigilance? He basically pays a lot of attention to what’s around him, all the time, and the painkillers make it so he can’t focus like that. He feels unsafe unless someone’s there with him in case of… anything.” Robin says, a touch awkwardly, and Eddie frowns down at the counter he’s leaning on for a long period of thought.

It sounds like there’s some trauma here, something he’s not informed on and doesn't understand. It irks him a bit, hurts his feelings a bit more, but he has only known Steve for essentially three months. It’s not like he’s earned the right to be told about everything in his life yet. Steve has his secrets, and even if that hurts his feelings a bit, it makes sense and he respects it. He doesn’t know what happened to Steve’s leg - car accident, animal attack, etc - or why Steve’s so on edge, but he can still be supportive without knowing the whys. 

“Honestly, you getting him to take it is kind of a miracle. Even I rarely can.” Robin adds, frowning thoughtfully. “I think he doesn’t think I can protect him. It used to be Jim Hopper who’d sit with him, gun and all, and with his sister there to boot? It’s probably hard to compete with that.”

“Ah, yeah,” Eddie murmurs, thinking back on how it actually wasn’t that hard to convince the guy. Did that mean he felt safe with Eddie? 

That was a dangerously gut-warming thought, so he turns away from it and refocuses on Robin. “How often do days like this happen?” he asks seriously as Robin takes another drink, giving her a second to swallow and respond.

“More often during the winter than any other time. He’s bound to have bad days in fall and spring, but summer’s usually smooth swimming for him, even if we get a monsoon. Cold is more the enemy here than storms alone.”

Eddie huffs a small breath at that, thinking back to a week ago, at the tail end of November, when he’d seen Steve moving stiffly. That’d probably been a bad day, and that irritates him to think about, because Steve gave no sign he was in pain that day. “He doesn’t really act like he’s in pain,” Eddie prompts after a moment and feels gratified when Robin scoffs.

“Yeah, he’s an ass like that. He’d rather suffer in silence than have people worried about him.” Robin says, rolling her eyes briefly before she looks off in the direction of Steve’s bedroom, frowning. “He always puts everyone else first,” she murmurs and Eddie sends her a sympathetic look. She sounds like she’s been dealing with it a lot longer, and a lot worse, than what Eddie’s seen so far. 

Eddie glances at the clock and frowns, wondering if he should leave, but he doesn’t really want to. He’d rather stay and… keep watch, as silly as that sounded, because Steve put his trust in him. 

Robin interrupts him before he can make up his mind. “I brought back homework, you missed calculus,” Robin says with a small frown and Eddie grimaces, deeply.

“Did you have to?” he asks mournfully and Robin snickers before fishing out a few papers from her backpack. 

“Sit down, I’ll help you with it,” she promises, and Eddie stares at her for a moment, because that sounded like a friendly offer, but what a weird way to present actual torture to him.

But she looks serious, if amused, and Eddie heaves a heavy sigh. He’s the one that wanted to stay, he thinks unhappily, as he takes his seat. 

“Alright, but you’re explaining it to me like I’m five,” Eddie warns as he accepts the pencil she offers him.

Robin just looks even more amused.