Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Track 1 – Shotgun Sweetheart (Nancy’s song)

or Metal pins of protection

Nancy is the first to come to him for help.

It's really unexpected, to be honest, but he supposes friends is the best descriptor for them, after everything. It's been eight months since Eddie moved to the small apartment in the city, a cheap one bedroom above a laundromat. It's been nice.

Sometimes, if it's really quiet, Eddie can feel the floor vibrating from the force of the washing machines and tumble driers downstairs. It's a completely different soundscape from the quiet nights on the edge of the trailer park back in Hawkins. No birdsong, no dogs barking, only machine noise and traffic. It's perfect. Maybe one day he'll try and record that white noise and put it into one of his tracks, just to remember, put a timestamp on this time, this place.

His days are full of recording with the band, the nights writing like the words are bleeding out of his fingertips, scratching out, writing again, not thinking too hard about what the words mean until they are out. It's not a bad life. So when Nancy shows up, one gray Saturday afternoon with an overnight bag and a slightly more ”college” look than last he saw her, he shrugs and lets her in. Whatever it is, he might as well hear it out.

”I figured we could go out” she says without much preamble as she puts her bag down. ”Do you know any good places to drink around here?” And yeah, of course he does. He's done the circuit of local music bars with the band by now. He's not sure they would be exactly Nancy's style, but something in her eyes reminds him of the Nancy he'd seen in the upside down wielding a gun like a badass, so, he decides to roll with it.

He puts on his leather jacket, fluffs up his hair and takes her to his favorite dive bar. They get through some beers while she thoroughly beats his ass at pool. Once she's put her fancy jacket on the back of her barstool and run a hand through her hair, she almost fits in.

”So...” She starts, and here it comes, he thinks, whatever it is. He tries to put on his most attentive look. He owes this girl for sure, owes a lot of people his life these days, so whatever it is, he's gonna at least try.

”How did you let go of it?”

”Of what?”

”Hawkins! You know,” She gesticulates with her free hand, consternation on her face ”That... small town bullshit attitude. Career, marriage, kids, whatever...” He has to laugh at that.

”Nance! You gotta know that was never for me, right? Come on, I grew up in trailer parks, that shit was never even on the plate.” He thinks of hearing the other kids plan their futures in the cafeteria, of laughing in the face of them, mockingly, feeling a little raw inside. Because the rules are different, for him.

”Shit, sorry” She looks away, clearly annoyed at herself as she taps her fingers against her glass. Eddie shakes himself out of it, puts a hand on her shoulder reassuringly. This is not about him. And, though he’s not sure what she needs here, he’s going to at least try.

”Hey, it's ok, don't sweat it Wheeler.” he says, ”To be honest I did kind of want a taste of it once, a stable family, a nice house, all that. Maybe I still will one day!” She looks surprised at that.

”The difference, I think” He continues, going for levity ”Is that it was never expected from me, so if I did, well. People would be shocked! I mean imagine me at a PTA meeting! I would cause a fucking riot!” She laughs at that, hand on her face. Good. Leaning back, she gives him another look, more relaxed this time.

”I guess what I was trying to say, really, is... Can you help me do that?”

”Let go? Riot against expectation?”

”Yes, like. I just don't wanna care so much about what people think! And I thought” She indicates to all of him ”Who better to ask” And then she smiles, and he can see it, kinda, why all the boys were obsessed with her, back in high school. If he was just a smidgeon straighter, he might even swoon.

”Contrary to popular belief, I do actually care, Wheeler. I just... care more about the things that make me a freak in their eyes to stop.” Its true. He thinks of the adrenaline that courses through his veins whenever they reach an especially hard hitting story beat in one of his campaigns, so similar to nailing that guitar solo he's been working on for the first time live. Thinks of how right it feels, wearing his favorite bands on his clothing like patchwork armor. Nancy nods, looking thoughtful.

”I guess I gotta figure out what I care about more, then. Maybe I can make a list. Good things I care about versus stupid stuff thats not worth my time.” she says, already mentally making the fucking spreadsheet, he can tell.

”Or,” Eddie interrupts, because he needs to stop this intellectualizing before it goes too far, ”We can go back to my apartment, get high, and you can tell me all about the shitty things and we can laugh about them” It's the Munson method, patent pending.

It looks like he made the right call, because half an hour later they are lying on the floor, feet in opposing directions, and Nancy looks more comfortable already. She's on the ratty rag rug he was given by the sweet Romanian lady downstairs after he helped her break into her own apartment when she lost her keys. At least he had been 90% sure it was her apartment. If not, she's one dedicated squatter cause she's lived there since. Nancy opted out of the weed, picking up a bottle of cheap wine on their way back. She likes to pick her own poisons, she said. He'd shrugged, it's not like he really cares either way, and had agreed to split it.

They've built up a good buzz listening to some Blondie (Nancy's choice, of course) and Eddie has insisted they lie down on the floor. ”It's an important part of the process, Nance,” He had said, poking her shoulder in punctuation. ”Trust. The. Process.”

She giggles now, tapping her foot in time to the music, the small bows on the front of her white socks bouncing.

”OK, so here are the rules, you ready?” He says, because he loves a good game. She nods in his periphery.

”Hit me”

”One,” He holds up a finger, ”You tell me something you fucking hate, and we drink cause it sucks”

”Two, you tell me something that's great, and we drink”

”And three?” Nancy asks, holding up her own hand, three fingers out.

”Nah, that's it. Then we just get drunk.” Nancy giggles, then turns to look a bit more in his direction.

”Can I add a rule?”

”Sure!”

”If I say a thing, then you have to say a thing too. Fair?” He crooks his neck, considering. He should probably think this through before he jumps in but... it's a nice night. And he finds, surprisingly, that he trusts Nancy.

”Yeah, sounds fair.”

He raises the ceramic mug, one of three drinking receptacles that he owns, and knocks it against Nancy's pint glass. What can he say, he's a classy host.

”Ok, so I hate...” She begins. ”I hate that my mom always asks me about my love life before she asks me about my grades.” Eddie cups his hands around his mouth, goes BOOO, and Nancy laughs.

”And what do we say to that nonsense, Wheeler?”

”Fuck the patriarchy?”

”Hell yeah” They clink their drinks together again, and take awkward sips from their spots on the floor.

”All right, your turn” She says, letting her glass rest on her stomach.

”I hate... When mothers make their kids stop staring at me. Like, let them look, I look cool as fuck! Maybe they'll learn a thing or two. Plus, I'm great with kids! I'm like, almost as good a babysitter as Harrington.” Nancy snorts.

”Yeah, I don't think any of us are gonna reach his level any time soon” she says with a smirk

Another cheers, another drink.

”Ok, so something I like... ” She swirls her drink in the air, and if a few drops hit the rug Eddie isn't gonna comment on it. Red on white is a nice look, right?

”I know its stupid, but I really like it when I get good grades. Like, I know it's just a number or whatever, and it won't matter out in the real world ,” She adds that last bit with finger quotation marks ”And it's not very ladylike to boast, or whatever, but when I have a good feeling about the test, I really look forward to getting the results back. Even when I know I've aced it, and it really shouldn't be a surprise. Still feels great, makes it all worth it.” He can hear the smile in her voice, and it gives his stomach a warm feeling.

”Yeah, I get that. Sometimes, when I've spent, like, ridiculous hours working on the words for a song, when we play it live, if we even get like one guy in the corner mouthing along a word or two, that's amazing. So worth it.” She turns to look at him, then, eyebrows up.

”You write the lyrics?”

”Haha yeah, I'm a big sappy poet secretly, don't tell anyone” She hums at that, looking away again, and he is happy to realize that he's not feeling self conscious about it. Well. At least not very.

”It's actually a little scary” He says, because the wine compels him to. ”Good lyrics need to be real, personal, or else they won't hit the same,right? Took me ages to build up the nerve to show it to anyone. Felt great when they reacted well though.” They take another drink, letting the words to Heart of Glass envelop them for a moment. Then Nancy puts her drink down hard, decisive (RIP to another part of the rug). He responds with a questioning noise.

”I've decided, next time I get a good result, I'm not gonna do that stupid thing everyone does when they hide their grade because they don't want to embarrass anyone. In fact, I'm gonna yell about it!”

”Fuck yeah, you should make some noise!”

”...Maybe not in front of the teacher, but I'll do it!”

”It's a start, Wheeler, it's a start!”

They go back and forth a few times, complaining about Nancy's sexist teachers, about the local press vilifying the metal scene, then laugh about the values of cinema popcorn versus homemade, and Eddie maybe waxes poetically about the local library's extensive fantasy and sci-fi collection for a moment. They drink a little more, and Eddie kinda forgot how fast wine gets him buzzed, but it's all good. Then, Nancy gets a little quiet as she ponders her next hated thing. When she speaks, it's with a quiet ferociousness he's not sure he's heard before.

”I'm sick of being pretty” Eddie makes a questioning noise, not sure how to respond.

”People just. Expect that to be all that I am. Just because I like to wear some cute clothes and makeup or whatever, they just assume I'm this... this cardboard cutout girl that fits in perfectly with their housewife fantasies. Like, Nancy, you're so pretty, go on a date with me! Nancy, I love your hair, let's get a drink! It's never, hey Nancy, I really liked your article, I thought you made a really poignant point about the corruption of the local government ” She sits up, gesticulating with her free hand. ”And the few times I've gone on dates because they at least pretend to care about who I am, as a person, all they really want to talk about is how good I look. Who cares! It's all so.. Boring!” She laughs, very little humor in her voice. ”I just don't get how you do it.”

”Do what? Look pretty?” He grins, fluttering his eyelashes, but she only frowns.

”No! Like... Steve and Jonathan are all bravado sometimes, you know? Someone says something shitty to their face, they are going to start punching, right? And that's what's expected!”

He nods at that. He's seen Harringtons face in various state of beat up, that boy can pull off a bruised look like a motherfucker, and always assumed it was over some stupid comment or whatever.

”And after all we've done, all I've fought, sometimes it makes me just just want to...” She punches the air, once, twice, the wineglass sitting precariously on the flat of her stomach. And he gets that. He really, really does. He thinks of the dickheads back in highschool, picking at his every weakness day in and day out, the gym class accidents and hallway trip-ups. He thinks of telling Nancy that Of course he has had a revenge fantasy or two. Only, in his fantasies, he had magical powers, or a dragon on his back, or whatever. Because he knew he was never actually going to have the balls to go through with anything in the real world. Keep your head down, be smart. Get out of Hawkins and never look back. That was always the plan. And to be fair, the one time he had stood his ground to fight, in that shadow realm with nothing but his guitar and a stupid fucking plan, he had almost died. Maybe should have died. The universe sure had tried its hardest to make it happen. He's been quiet a little too long, he knows, but Nancy looks deep in thought too, so maybe that's ok.

”Did anyone tell you about the flayed?” Nancy says finally, breaking the silence.” Back when the mind flayer took over a bunch of people's minds?”

He racks his brain, checks the folder marked Weird fucking Hawkins shit that you missed, a confusing and abridged version thank you Robin.

”...the goo monster people?” Robin and Steve had started telling him about them, and he had quickly realized that he did NOT want to know. They had only really seen the thing that was in El's leg, and then the giant creature (Which, how did nobody else in town see that what the fuck), so they didnt know the gooey details but he really, really doesn't think he wants them anyway. When she nods, not elaborating, he breathes a sigh of relief.

”One of them was this... This asshole from the newspaper. Fake tan, fake blonde hair, gave me constant shit just for existing and liked to call me Nancy Drew ” She says that with a sneer, her voice all tight. ”I wanted to hit him so much. Wanted to wipe that stupid grin of his face.” Letting her fingers rest over her mouth and nose, she breathes in. When she speaks again, her voice is a little muffled.

”I just wanted to have some power over him, for once.”

”I mean... That's fair?” Eddie tries, staring at the ceiling, unsure, ”He sounds like a waste of space”

She's quiet for a long time, her hands over her whole face now. When she removes them, finally turning her face in his direction, her eyes are serious.

”Eddie. I bashed his head in with a fire extinguisher”

”shit”

”Yeah.”

The room is dark, they never bothered turning on the big light, and only the lone lightbulb hanging in the kitchen illuminates Nancy's face. In the distance, he can hear an ambulance siren passing by.

He's struck by how small she is. How she's still just a girl, really, despite all her bravado, all her big sister attitude. A sweet girl they used to call the princess of Hawkins High. But then there is this strength. This force of nature that lives inside her, that makes her run face first into danger for her friends, her ex boyfriend, for a random freak she never even talked to once in school. Who saw the face of danger and decided to go get a gun about it. He wonders how far she would go, really, if pushed into a corner. He's afraid of that. Not of her, not really, just of a person she might have to become, if the world keeps treating her this unkindly. So he breathes out. Looks her in her eye and tries his best to be the friend that she needs.

”Was he going to kill you? If you hadn't?” He asks, though he knows the answer. She nods.

”Then youre what I'd call a survivor, Nance. And... you should know that I trust you.”

”What do you mean?” Her voice is small, her hair blocking her face from view. So, Eddie swallows, tries to find the right words. Thinks of what he would say if she was one of the heroes in his adventures, worried they lost their way.

”It means... that I trust you to not like, go all apeshit on someone unless you have to.” Nice, eddie. So eloquent. He powers through anyway ”So... you should trust yourself too.” he finishes, lamely.

She considers that, takes another drink, and once she looks back at Eddie, the tension is mostly gone from her face. She gives him a wry smile.

”So... Pacifists until mortally threatened?” She says, and he grins, sitting up to grab her hand for an exaggerated shake, putting his other hand on his heart.

”A solemn pact, sealed!” He recites, mock serious, and as they clink their glasses together for another cheers, a warm feeling settles into his stomach. He thinks he may have not fucked this up, after all.

After a few more moments, Nancy looks at him again with that wry smile.

”Sometimes I wish I looked more like you, you know” She says, indicating all of him again. He can't help but laugh at that image – Nancy Wheeler, all studded denim, big hair and skull rings. She makes a face at him.

”I could totally pull it off! And maybe all these jerks would back off if I didn't fit their little fantasy”

”Ahh, I hate to burst your bubble Nance, but looking like this also gives you attention, just of a slightly different nature.” She bobs her head sideways with a small frown, considering.

”Hey, how about this? '' He says, twisting his body into half a forward roll, cup precariously still in his hand, and gets to his feet. After a bit of rummaging in the key bowl by the door, he returns to Nancy, hands clasped, opening them in front of her to reveal a set of three different pins. One has an edgy dagger design with roses, one is simply a flaming skull, and the last one just says Fuck Off on it. Nancy giggles when he reveals them, picking them up and inspecting each with a delighted smile.

”Baby steps, right? Maybe they will scare off an idiot or two” He tells her, giving her a thumbs up.

She attaches them to her jacket, the contrast a little ridiculous against the pastel pink, and reclines back onto the rug with her glass. She smiles, and for the first time since she arrived at his doorstep, she looks truly relaxed. Good.

So, they get drunk. Thoroughly. Eddie has some blurry memories of singing along to Abba (that he will deny to his grave), of Nancy creating an unholy concoction of whatever Eddie has in his pantry when they get hungry, and a very drunk argument about who gets the bed and who gets the couch.

The next morning, when he wakes on the (now mostly pink) rug, he looks over to find Nancy sleeping off the hangover on his sofa. The bed sits empty, sheets in the same state he'd left them the morning before. Figures. Stretching his achy back with a groan, he gets up and wanders off to the kitchen to fix them up some breakfast.

Eventually, Nancy heads back to her college dorm with a small but hungover smile, the badges still attached to her jacket like charms of protection, and Eddie spends the rest of the afternoon on a new song.

It's a little aggressive, his vision a little industrial and punk. That night, Gareth adds a baseline like a beating heart, and the new drummer, (Jess) counts in double time, hair bouncing. They build it up from there, note by note, word by word.

Its a story about a woman in pink who will fuck you up, will break your heart, will protect those she loves.

There is a quiet part in the middle, the words indicating regret, fear about what she is, but then it builds back, bass drum working up the tempo for the second chorus, and this time the words are slightly edited to feel realer, less fake bravado and more certain confidence.

It fits her perfectly.

Chapter Text

Track 2 - Go Get your Girl, Rob

or: Magical item: Cotton Breeches of Charisma 

When Robin ends up being next, he should probably have seen it coming.

It's a wet day in February, the laundromat has just closed for the night and Eddie has been feeling the silence like an itch he can't quite reach.

Nancy's song has been doing great on the nearby stages, a local paper even called him a ”storyteller” in their 4 sentence review, and it's been good. But the words have dried up a little, now, only random melodies or riffs finding his way into his notebook as of late. Nancy calls occasionally, just to chat, or vent, or celebrate an A+, and that's been good, too. But it's been raining for days, and his scarred hips have been aching. The government paid for physical therapy (that Hopper blackmailed them into giving him) is only doing so much as the cold of winter lingers. He's coming to terms with the fact that the sting of them might never go away, not fully.

So, when he hears a loud honking outside his window and leans out to see Robin waving her hands wildly out of the passenger window of Steve's car, he's happy for the distraction.

Robin barges into the apartment like a firecracker on a short fuse, wild gesticulations, words unfiltered, fluffy short hair bouncing. She's looking very much like last time he saw her, baggy trousers and an oversized flannel shirt swishing as she moves.

He expects Steve to enter next, ever Robin's shadow, but the guy just waves out of the car window before driving off. Being a good boy shuttling his friends all over the place again, it seems. He finds out later that Steve's picking up Dustin from some nerd thing and is staying at some relatives place. The details are a bit unclear. Right now, though, Robin cuts straight to the chase, words rushing out like lighter sparks.

”Ok so I know we never talked about it like, with our words or whatever, but you know right? You know about me and I know about you, and we've just been silently allies this whole time, right?” She breathes, and Eddie, shellshocked, doesn't get a chance to respond before-

”Because you need to be my gay mentor cause I'm freaking out and Steve is great but also he just doesn't get it ok? And he's a bit of an idiot but he's my idiot so I can say that.”

”Anyway, here's the thing. I'm so so gay, and there's so many pretty girls at college. Like, nerdy girls, who will Actually talk to me, not just ignore me, and that's just the students!” She's climbed up on the back of his sofa, eyes pleading, hands wild. ”The Eng. Lit teacher has glasses, and wears these cute sweaters but also really, really tight skirts and I am DYING Eddie. Dying of lesbian longing and I am going out of my mind, please help”

The onslaught stops as quickly as its started and Eddie needs to sit down, playing it back to take in what she's actually said. When he lands heavily on his (single) dining chair, though, he is smiling. The truth is he had a feeling about her, of course, but he didn't Know know, and it's nice. Nice to have it all out in the open. She smiles back at him when he looks up, and it's a nice moment of I see you, you see me, we're good.

”All right, all right,” he tells her, moving on, hands up in supplication. ”What do you want me to do about it? I'm not gonna sit here and listen to you wax poetically about your teachers ass, Buckley, that's where I draw the line of my queer support” She waves that away with her dark purple fingernails.

”Yeah, but you gotta know the feeling, right? That gay longing! I bet there's tons of sexy metal boys at your gigs being hot and frustrating?”

And.. he’s not quite sure how to respond to that

Because yeah of course. He's stared extensively at a guy or two in his day, of all music persuasions and D&D classes. But, the metal and rock scene is such a weird mix of extremes. There's the disco-hating meatheads who believe in Norse gods and white supremacy looking to soundtrack their pathetic personal crusades, and then there's the queer freaks like himself looking for comfort in the anti-society, anti-religious otherness. Then there are the nerds who just care about the fantasy themes and badass dragon album covers, and that is fair and relatable but also can fall very hard on either side of that meathead/freak scale.

All in all, it's a minefield to find a hookup, to be honest. But slightly less so than in Hawkins, thanks to the sheer volumes of people. You're bound to find someone up for it eventually, you just gotta hope you don't get your nose punched in on the way there.

Robin isn't waiting around for his answer, and is now going through his box of D&D minis in the corner. She picks up a busty sorceress figure and snorts, which, fair.

”You could just... hook up with someone?” He suggests, because fuck if he knows a better way. Robin groans.

”Ha! You make it sound so easy! Plus, I'm...” he glimpses a shy look on her face as she turns away, hiding against the back of her palms, fingers opening and closing like some kind of sea anemone. ”Maybe I want it to be a little more special than that, I don't know.”

She opens her face back up, a small blush on her cheeks as she climbs back on top of his sofa again, and he thinks about complaining about her dirty trainers on the cushions but the Robin whirlwind doesn't give him a chance, as usual.

”But then also, I kinda just want to get it over with, you know? I guess this whole never-been kissed virgin stuff is getting old.” His eyes snap up, unbidden, at that. He knows he shouldn't be surprised, really, but he is. He kind of figured, if an idiot like himself can make it happen, surely Robin, despite her awkwardness... Currently, she's curled up on the sofa cushion, slotted into the permanent divet some previous tenant left in it. Despite her energy when she arrived, and despite the sheer volume of words distracting from their very personal content, this feels familiar. Like Nancy's hidden, searching looks as she had put her bag down, suggesting they go out. This is a little more serious than Robin lets on, then.

She shakes her hair in front of her face, now, shoulders up as she grumbles:”Yes yes, Munson laugh it up. I'm an absolute loser ha ha.” but he's not laughing. He remembers his first awful kissing experience, a drug deal gone weird, ending with a bloody nose on both their parts. Because when caught, it's a lot safer to pretend to be in a fight than making out. It's not a very comforting story though, and not a very happy ending, so instead, he puts his hands on his knees to stand up, looking her over.

”Ever been to a gay bar, Buckley?”

They spend an hour getting ready, Robin nervously fretting over her hair and makeup for at least half of that, and they pregame on some cheap whiskey. He paints his nails while she paces, his outfit having taken all of ten minutes - sleeveless band tee and jeans always does the job when he's not particularly out to impress anyone. Robin tosses her tie on the sofa, and he offers her a pair of ripped jeans that always looked awkward on him. Her hips are skinny enough to fit in them, and she spends several minutes staring at her own ass after Eddie directs her to the cracked mirror in the corner. (It's a dumpster find. The crack is only a tiny one, near the top, and he's covered most of it with strategically placed band stickers)

”Wow, Eddie, wearing these feels like it should be illegal or something. Are we about to get pulled over for public indecency-?”

”You wish, Buckley”

”Ew.”

They're not even his worst pair, the rips only showing off her freckled knees and none of her thighs, but they are definitely more form fitting than her usual style. The back pocket is covered by a Black Sabbath patch, the one with the weird vampire baby, and it makes her laugh as she spots it. He shrugs. It's a cool one, but not his favorite, so he'd just slapped it on there one evening when he was bored. The stitches are even tearing a bit, in one of the corners. In the end, she keeps the oversized green flannel shirt on anyway, so it's not like anyone's gonna see the patch, or her ass. But she seems happy in them anyway, so he doesn't mention it.

They go to what Eddie thinks of as the least scary of the gay bars he knows. This early in the evening, it doesn't feel that different from your average bar, except that the locals out for first date drinks are paired up a little differently. That, and the fact that all the windows are surreptitiously covered up in big, dark curtains. A necessity, unfortunately, but he refuses to focus on that tonight. All he wants is to give a nice introduction to the community for this strange girl he calls his friend. He'll do his best, despite being pretty new himself to this particular scene.

He knows the bartender, vaguely, from a previous gig in a different bar. When his guitar strap had broken during soundcheck, she had miraculously produced some duct tape from her bag to save the day, so she's cool in his book. She can definitely be described as butch, sporting a boy cut and a suit, and he can tell that Robin is a little awed in her presence.

They pass an hour or so nursing drinks, chatting about their experiences of being gay in Hawkins, shared and not, good and bad. Maybe they should have done this a long time ago, he thinks as a warm feeling envelops his stomach, mollifying the dull ache of his scarred hips.

Later, when the music gets louder and the cute lesbians on the other end of the bar go up to dance, Robins eyes start to twinkle. It's kind of amazing, she's like a cartoon character or something, and he doesn't know how she did it, really, wiggling her way into his guarded heart. Maybe it's the sincerity with which she does everything in her life, like she doesn't know any other way to exist. Always a little too much, just like him. Maybe its the queer kinship. Either way, as she drags him out to the small dance floor, doing the dorkiest dance he's ever fucking seen, he's full of fondness for this small, ridiculous lesbian. 

A few songs in, the floor gets more crowded, and a girl with a buzzcut slowly dances into their space, her eyes all over Robin. He gives her the want rescue? look, and she shakes her head minutely, looking nervous but intrigued, so he moves out of their space, goes to grab another drink while keeping an eye. He's seen the other girl before, probably a local, and she seems nice enough. God, he realizes, as he sips his beer, back against the bar, that was such a mother-hen Steve kind of thought. And isn't that pathetic.

He kinda gets why the guy is so protective of Robin now though. He has kind of felt like he's subbing for Steve all night. Not like that, brain, jesus. Really, he's been a little jealous, if he's honest, of their platonic soulmate thing. Having each other's backs, on that level? It's the stuff of epic adventures and world saving quests. Which it kind of had been, now that he thinks about it. Well, at least today he can be something for Robin that Steve can't. And that's pretty cool. Suck it, Stevie.

The song changes to something intimate with a low baseline, and suddenly Robin and buzzcut girl are dancing a whole lot closer. There's a moment where he can't see her, other dancers crossing between them as the chorus hits, and when she comes back into view, Robin is retreating, elbowing her way off the floor. He can't make out Robin's face, but the other girl looks sheepish as she goes.

Oh no . Putting down his drink, he hurries after. Luckily, he doesn't have to search for long, finding Robin in the bathroom (previously labeled Ladies, now crossed out and replaced by a scrawled Whatever ), splashing her face.

”Hey Robs... you ok?” He says, gently. Something on her face makes him careful, not wanting to spook her. Leaning her forehead against the mirror, she sighs. Her face is wet from the sink water, but it doesn't hide her slightly red-rimmed eyes.

”She tried to kiss me.”

”ah”

”And I kinda wanted her to! I just... I chickened out Eddie.” She says, voice thick.

”Hey, hey, that's all right, you know that right? You don't have to do anything until you're ready.” She makes a half snort-half sniff sound, giving him a smudged eye glare but her mouth looks a little amused, at least.

”Come on Munson, what are you, a pamphlet from my mom's church?” He has to grin at that.

”Haven't you heard? On Sundays I'm pastor Eddie, here to teach the youth about consent, queerness and satanism” He says, finishing with a snap of his fingers. She laughs, but he can still hear the thickness in her throat. Shaking the water out of her hair, she turns to him, sitting herself down on the sink counter. She's more still now than she was. He's not sure if that's a good sign.

”Ok, so there's another reason I needed to talk to you, and not Steve. Despite the whole queer thing. Or. I mean. It's kinda related but also not?”

”all...right?”

She stops for a moment, clearly psyching herself up, poking at the nail polish that is already peeling off of her pinky finger.

”You can't tell Steve! Like absolutely never ever!” And he's a little offended.

”Buckley! You've anointed me your gay mentor, of course I'm not gonna break such a sacred trust!”

”I knoow” she says, dragging out the syllables, followed with a mumbled: ” ahh what is it with me and confessionals in fucking bathrooms .” 

”So I've had chances to kiss girls, right,” she begins, starting to pace the tiny room, the words echoing slightly against the tiles. 

“My college experience so far has been a bit more eye-opening than I may have let on haah” her eyes are big, her eyebrows a little apologetic. ”but I always stop it because every time... every time I wish it was someone else. Someone I actually really want to kiss, not some new girl I barely know, no matter how cute she is.” Eddie nods, ok, he thinks he might know where this is going. He's heard about this band chick she had a crush on... what was her name, Nicki or something? But Robin is still talking.

”...And you see that's why I really couldn't tell Steve, cause it's one thing to like a random girl and another to like my best friend's bloody ex and... ” Huh. So not the band girl, though still not narrowing it down very much. Steve, you slut , he thinks fondly. ”Especially since he's so hung up on her still, I mean you heard him, six kids? With whose vagina? The guys a little delusional, but its sweet, and I really, really can't fuck it up between us, he's the best friend I've ever had and...”

”Wait, hold on. Are you saying...” He interrupts, picking up on what she's implying finally. Robin makes a noise of despair. ”... Nancy?” The noise turns into a long whine.

”I know..... I'm so screwed.”

That's... Unexpected. He takes a moment to think it over, joining Robin in leaning against the counter. Sure, Nancy and Jonathan are broken up as far as he knows, and all the college boys seem to be absolute garbage, but this? He's not even sure romance is what Nancy needs right now. After their talk, he'd kinda thought that she just needed a chance to do her kickass journalism shit without dealing with any dating drama. But then again, just because he's given up on the concept of romance and a career, who is he to decide for someone else? Would she even be into women? He honestly doesn't know. Gathering himself, he turns to Robin. Come on Munson, you didn't fuck up with Nancy, maybe you can do this too.

”All right Buckley, I can honestly say I have no idea how screwed you are in regards to romancing Wheeler” He starts, and Robin retreats further into herself, groaning continuing. ”But, maybe I can help with the other thing.” She looks up at that, big eyes a little less clouded now, a little more present.

”Other thing?”

”Steve. I think you can tell him.”

”But what if-”

”He won't” and it's a testament to how shaken Robin is that she lets him interrupt her. ”You know him better than me but... He's not a bad guy, Robs. He'll understand. He might be horrible and self-sacrificing about it, but he'll understand.” Finally, Robin snorts in more of her usual way.

”Oh, he definitely will, won't he. What a dingus.” but it's fond. He feels it too. Because he's their idiot, isn't he?

”Come on. Let's get out of this bathroom. Do you want to dance some more?”

”Nah, but let's have some more drinks. I need to be more drunk if I'm gonna tell Steve about this when he picks me up.”

And that's how he ends up, an hour later, with a very drunk Robin (a lightweight, bless her, despite her enthusiasm) outside the bar. Eddie is just buzzed, but he's had a pretty good night, all things considered.

Robin has the number for Steve's relatives place on a small piece of paper, but is way too drunk to make the call, so it's Eddie that ends up at the small payphone at the bus stop. He could take her back to his, but Robin's been threatening to throw up for a few minutes and he's pretty sure any stretch of time on the rickety night bus might be the final straw. Steve sounds awake when he picks up, anyway. He hopes he's not been too worried, it's pretty late after all. Suddenly, he really, really wants Steve to trust him with Robin. To trust that he'll look after her when Steve can't. He's not sure if that's alpha male bullshit or mother hen behavior, but either way, he's gonna blame Steve's influence.

They end up waiting at the bus stop, the streetlights illuminating Robin in orange and white as she leans against the graffitied brick wall of the bar. It makes her look like a halloween decoration, big grin, messy hair and dark smudges around her eyes. It's a good look.

”Heey Eddieee.... you never properly answered my question,” she says with a pout, her feet slipping a little on the tarmac. It's adorable.

”And which question was that, Buckley?” he responds, patiently.

”You knowwww, the gaay longing” she mock-whispers, fingers wiggling, loud enough that he still looks around to make sure nobody hears. The coast is clear though, it's late and the last of the bar patrons are still finishing up their last drinks before catching the final bus home. He still struggles to respond, though. Because he has avoided answering, sure. He's avoided it because he's not sure he's ready to face that feeling yet. He is fine with the desire, flaring up when some stranger gives him the look after a gig, nodding his head towards the shadowy corners of dingy bathrooms and dark back rooms. The hot breathing and fumbling hands and the euphoria of being touched, of getting to touch, there and gone again after, leaving his body a little cold as they go separate ways, transaction completed. But that's not what Robin is really asking, he knows, and though she's a little too drunk to properly have the conversation, he thinks of her sincere eyes in the bathroom, of e very time, I wish it was someone else, and of his own thoughts, mid makeouts straying to fluffier hair to drag his hands through,  wider set of lips to kiss, a matching set of scars to drag his hands over...

”Yeah, Robs, I know what it's like.” He sighs, and grabs her shoulder to right her as she starts to slip sideways along the wall. It's not like she'll remember this bit anyway.

Steve arrives without delay, their knight in an ugly polo shirt, because of course he does. Apparently Steve's cousins got a loft somewhere in the posh part of town, because of course he does, and Robin can stay there comfortably for the night. Steve promises to keep an eye on her in case she needs to throw up. It's nice, working together to get her into the car (She has gained a second wind, wants to dance again, and it takes some gentle coercing). If Steve notices where they are, what type of clientele is starting to pile out of the bar behind him, he doesn't say anything.

Once he gets back to the apartment, Eddie metaphorically dumps all his feelings (his gay longing feelings , thank you Robin) into his notebook, words jumbled and frustrated. They don't become a song, not yet, too many harsh edges and mental thorns to find his way through. So, he starts over, lighting another cigarette as the sun starts to rise over the city, and thinks about Robin, instead.

He writes, careful of his pronouns, of his specifics. The tempo is fast, like Nancy's, but instead of aggressive and heavy, it's energetic and upbeat. When he finds the perfect riff, revived from the corpse of an old song about childhood, he can feel that spark again. The little flashes of light, burning within his lungs as he finishes the words, putting them into song and filling the quiet room with it. It's the joy of seeing Robin, dancing and free and unafraid.

He's not just telling her story, like he did for Nancy, he's pushing her to keep going. To go get the girl. Whichever girl she wants, whatever love she can find, because she deserves that. Deserves it all.

Chapter Text

Track 3, Nerds like us (Save the world)
Track 4 Max's song part 1 (instrumental)
Track 5. Max's song 2 (Red's Revenge)
Track 6 Good people (Better friends)
Track 7 You (but not for me)

Magical items:

Gambling die of good fortune
Adhesive paper of swiftness
Tunics of shared strength

A few months into the new year, Eddie allows himself to be dragged back to Hawkins for the weekend. He's there to run a oneshot campaign with the kids, and to stop in for dinner with his uncle. Its fun, its been too long since he got that storytelling feedback that he craves, the excitement at the unveiling of treasure, the terror over hidden traps.

They commandeer Steve's living room, house empty as usual, and it is less awkward than it should be. Steve doesn't linger much, leaves them space for their game and pops in with pizza around lunchtime. When they are around the kids Steve and Eddie fall comfortably into their roles as grumpy uncles, and its fun, ribbing off each other and making them all groan at their stupid jokes.

When the game ends, only an hour or so later than expected, his chest is filled with affection for his merry band. Sure, he likes to pretend to be the ruthless DM with impossible tasks and perilous bosses, but the truth is, he's just a sucker for a good hero story. Can't have heroics without some risk. And if he fibs the numbers a little, lets the daring gesture of Lady Applejack (that should most certainly have killed her) succeed by the margin of a hair, well. He's the only one the wiser.

If he's honest though, these days the need for sneaky assists are few and far between. Dustin, always the first to pick up on hints, had unmasked the shopkeeper in disguise before anyone else had even suspected her. Max, somehow convinced by Lucas to join this once, had pounced on the opportunity to kick some ass with the magical mace he left for her to find, clearly getting some aggression out, but she had still been first to hold back when one of the enemies begged for their life. And Mike, rarely the brightest of the bunch, surprised all of them with the perfect use of a cantrip when they were all out of spell slots. He's disgustingly proud of all of them.

Before they leave, Eddie disperses some gifts to the young party members. Dustin is about to start up Hellfire club again once spring break ends, spearheading it, so Eddie gives him his lucky D20. It's plain, green, and covered in scuff marks from years of use, but Dustin knows its value. Reverently, he puts it into his tattered dice bag, tying the knot tightly as he goes.

In the half-filled notebook in the back of his pocket, Eddie already has Dustin's song mostly finished. It's a love song dedicated to nerds, an ode to the unapologetic, passionate kids like him. The best kind of losers.

He slaps a Corroded Coffin sticker on the back of Max's Wheelchair as she goes, gives her a wink. He's already sent her a song, the tape carefully wrapped in a padded envelope with scrawly handwriting a month or so back. It's a soft thing without words, something to lull her to sleep on achy nights, when the nightmares are closing in. She had sent him a letter back, scented paper with pink stars, saying in short, lopsided letters: Write me something badass next time, loser. But he knows she loves it. He’s already working on her second one, a fiery tune to match her spirit. In the debut album he’s been slowly building in his head, chipping away at bit by bit, Max's songs will be back to back, something soft before he brings the tempo back. 

The rest of the kids get the twenty-five hellfire club t-shirts he's got left. (The printers had tried to charge him extra for a smaller run, and it's not like he had much of a budget for the club in the first place so... ). He tells them to go forth, recruit the saddest losers with hearts of gold they can find in the cafeteria. Mike only slightly takes offense. It's a bittersweet moment, and he's milking it with all the dramatics he's got.

(Later, He will receive a Byers-Hopper family portrait where they are all wearing them, Christmas card style. It will make him laugh until he cries, before he writes a song about found family that he thinks he can never, ever play for them.)

While they are piling into Mike's mom's car, everyone calling shotgun at the same time, the phone rings.. Steve excuses himself to the kids with a wave, and since he's Eddies ride back to Waynes, tells Eddie ”be right back”, and dissapears into the stupidly big living room to answer.

”Heidi! Hi, yeah no it's ok, what's up?” Ah. The current girlfriend. She's lasted several months, this one. Robin had even suggested they might get introduced to her, and that's a pretty big deal.

Hearing Steve all lovesick with his girlfriend over the phone is the last thing he needs, thank you very much, so Eddie wanders out into the backyard. It had been fun, tainting this rich small-town fantasy of a house with his demonic games and fake-bloody antics. It doesn't mean he feels comfortable just hanging out here, though. Every surface is so clean, every little thing put in its perfect place, like out of a dull home magazine.

He sits on the side of the pool, finding a little spiteful joy in the fact that his dirty shoes are trailing mud into the chlorine waters. The night is dark around the house, the edge of the woods a little ominous, so he looks up at the stars instead. Listens to the hum of the water pump, lets the white noise comfort him.

He always needs a little time, after DM:ing, to get back into himself. Letting go of the storytelling persona. It's always a little bit of a come down, like a hangover, where a small part of his brain dissects every over-confident choice he's made during the game. It's best not to let that particular inner voice run too rampant, so he distracts himself with thoughts of his songs.

Some of them are out there now, sure, but others still lay hidden in his notebooks, unfinished and waiting. Some are still stuck inside him, constantly threatening to burst forth, demanding to be written. Nearly a year has passed since he was last in Hawkins, but it doesn't quite feel like it. Seeing the kids today, meeting up with Robin and the others, it feels like he never really left. Or rather, like he's left the town behind, but not the people.

He keeps them with him, hidden in the words he writes, the songs he sings. In return, he thinks of the little tokens he's been giving out, absentmindedly. The little pieces of himself he's left in their lives, a reminder that Eddie Munson was here.

He thinks of the polaroid he's stuck to his mirror, next to the stickers, covering up the last of the cracks. It's a picture of Robin, still looking a little hungover and clearly goofing off on campus with some friends. She's showing off the Black Sabbath patch on her ass and sticking her tongue out towards the photographer. Across the bottom, bright purple letters spell out They’re mine now, deal with it xoxo. He's not mad about it. They fit her better anyway.

He sits with his thoughts for a little longer, watching the swirls of dirt disappearing into the luminous water below, before he starts getting a little antsy. Steve’s really taking his time. Eddie is starting to wonder if it’s worth risking the good will of the guy driving him home by going in there and making some kind of hurry up motion when, finally, the door behind him slides open.

”Hey man, you guys reading bedtime stories to each other or what? That took age-” Something in the way he holds himself stops Eddie in his tracks. There's a tension in his shoulders.”...Everything ok, man?”

Steve falls into a nearby deck-chair, tilting his head back with a groan. The yellow light from the house outlines the strands of his hair, falls on his eyelashes and adams apple as he swallows. Eddie tries not to stare.

”She broke up with me.”

”What?” Steve leans forward, his face coming into view in the soft blue pool light, wavy patterns moving across his features. Eddie expects him to look sad, but really, he just looks tired.

”I should have known, the last time I was over was... Bad”

”Shit, what happened?”

”I had a nightmare. Classic vecna stuff, but I was up and out of bed with my fucking bat ready to swing before I even realized I was awake. I may have shouted something, I don’t know, it’s all a fucking blur, but. The way she looked at me, like I was some kind of…” He trails off, suddenly, as if Eddie's presence is stopping him from going further. Ah.

”Freak?” Eddie says, 'cause it's his word, no matter how he feels about it. It is what it is.

”Yeah. Shit.” He puts his hands through his hair, brushing it back and forth in clear frustration.

 ”Damn, I really thought she was it, you know? She’s the nicest girl I've dated, well, since Nancy...” He trails off, looking vulnerable and soft in his sweater and this is not the time, Munson jesus christ. He needs to think of something to say to that. Something that doesn't completely suck but that also doesn't reveal too much.

”I'm sorry, man.” He manages, like an idiot. To be fair, Eddie's not had any friends with serious love lives before, what are you even supposed to say, or do? Have Ice cream? Watch rom-coms? That doesn’t seem quite his style. What do guys like Steve do in times of emotional strife? Break bricks with their bare hands? Watch... uuh, top gun?

Steve meets his eyes, still tired, eyes looking straight through him, and Eddie has to look away. Ok, ok, he can do this. Robin and Nancy still like him after his attempts to help, surely this is not too different?

”I get them too.” He says, because it's the truth. ”A month ago, I woke up in my bathtub, holding the showerhead like some kind of gun. Scared the shit out of the birds nesting on my windowsill.” Steve lets out a startled laugh.

”What?”

”No, I'm serious! I sprayed the water right out the window, shocking a lady on the sidewalk below so much I had to pretend I was watering the fake plant Robin gave me.” Steve laughs some more at that, his eyes big and incredulous. Steve doesn’t need to know that his nudity at the time had been more shocking than anything else to the poor woman. Ah, city life.

”Shit Munson, you are such a weirdo” to which Eddie has to answer with a salute, relieved that he was able to remove that haunted look from Steve's face, if just for a second. They have a moment of silence, less tense, before Steve leans back into the shadow of his chair with a long sigh.

”Look, I know you guys think its stupid, but I really am looking for something serious, I'm so done with one-time things. I just want someone to be with me and actually want to stay. ” His voice sounds a little hoarse, and Eddie is suddenly struck with the need to be closer. To comfort, in whatever way he can. Wants to touch, but not for the reason he normally does. Shit, I'm in so much trouble. In the end, he settles for taking his feet out of the pool, turning to sit facing Steve's chair, foot outstretched to bump his shoe to Steves.

”Its not stupid.” He says, quietly. ”It's pretty sweet, Steve.”

”Oh, shut up.”

”No, really, I'm not messing with you. You should be allowed nice things, Steve.”

”Shit Munson, ”Steve says, a little bit of a smile in his voice ”You are going to make me blush” And isn't that a revelation, to hear from Steve's lips. In the dark, he can’t see Steve's face, but he feels his eyes on him, and for a moment, all Eddie can do is sit there, paralyzed. Eventually, Steve moves again, head turning towards the sky, another long sigh on his lips. Eddie braces himself, he knows this silence by now. Knows that some things are easier to say when you don't look the other person in the eye.

”It might not matter what I deserve in the end, man.” he starts, voice faraway. He pulls a little at his collar, where Eddie knows there are still a few faint marks from the demobat tail. ”I'm just too messed up, Eddie. These girls, they want someone stable. Someone who can hug them tight and be there for the small things, daily shit. But I'm too fucked up, too ready to fight for my fucking life at the drop of a goddamn hat, and I don't know how to make that go away. How to be normal and happy and feel safe, especially around people who don't know,” He gestures vaguely, hinting at the huge cloud of things we can't tell anyone ever that always hangs over them. “... And I don't want them to know, cause fuck, I wouldn't wish this on anyone! I just don't know how to do this and not bring all this bullshit with me, ruining things.” And it hurts, how raw Steve's voice is at the end of that.

And fuck, if Eddie doesn't get it. Has felt it every time he spends time with Wayne, pretending that the trauma doesn't exist, that it had all just been a fucking earthquake. Has felt it every time he tries to hang out with the bandmates on a bad day, when all he wants is to crawl out of his own skin. It's like they are a package deal now, the trauma and him, tainting everything he touches.

He wants to hug Steve. Wants to take his hand and tell him it's ok, we can do this together, from now on. You and me against the shitty days, the nightmares, the whole stupid world. But he can't. Knows that's not what Steve wants. Knows that it would be asking for too much. So he moves over, sits himself down next to Steve's chair, body proximity all the comfort he's daring to give.

”I get it” Is all he settles on saying, because it's all he's got. All he can offer. ”It'll get better. It has to.” Steve exhales at that, breathing a little shaky.

”Yeah. Yeah, it has to. It will. ” He says the last bit with more confidence, and Eddie thinks its what they both need to hear, right now.

”Nancy was right all along, you know. You can only pretend so long before the bullshit gets to you. I guess I was just able to keep it up for longer.” He says, almost to himself, and Eddie nods. It sounds like something Nancy would say.

”Wheeler got you good, huh?” He settles for, and Steve snorts, indicating the understatement for what it is.

”She sure did. I think that's one of the scars I'm better off with though.” He sighs, that damn Adam's apple moving in Eddie's periphery once more. ”I don't know, Eddie, you tell me what I should do.”

”Take it slow, dude. You'll find your picket fence lady eventually. There's some great women out there, we should know with the company we keep. We just need to get you a straight Robin or a less ambitious Nancy and you will be gold!” He goes on, describing all the things that aren't him, and it only hurts... It only hurts a lot. But he can do this. To keep Steve in his life, in any shape or form, perhaps he would do just about anything. And isn't that a scary thought.

”Yeah, I guess..” Steve responds eventually, and Eddie has a feeling he didn't quite get it right. Didn't find the perfect thing to say, because Steve's voice is still tired. Still a bit upset. But he also doesn't think he fucked it up, didn't give away too much. It's a start.

When they get up to leave, Steve hovers in the doorway. Eddie takes a little too long to stop, ends up a little too close.

”Hey, Eddie?” And Eddie can see his face now, eyes a little puffy and lips a little red from chewing on them, and shit he had been doing so well, but having glimpsed Steve’s vulnerable sid, having learnt that they have even more in common than he thought, its wrecked him. His walls are so, so thin now, transparent membrane the only thing between him and the thought, the one he really, really can't allow himself to think.

”Thank you.” Steve says, his voice soft and earnest and real.

The membrane breaks, splatters all over his internal walls and burns like acid.

Fuck, I'm in love with him, aren't I?

”Yeah.” He swallows, trying to drag his eyes away. ”yeah, no problem dude”

And then he flees. Well. Figuratively. In practice, he gets into the car and holds a light conversation with Steve all the way to Wayne's. He hopes it wasn't an important one, because he can't remember a word.

The next day, when he's back in the empty apartment and the welcome hum from downstairs works its way through his tired limbs, he writes a song, because of course he does.

It's another soft one, but it hurts to get it out. Like disinfecting a wound, letting it bleed clear for a moment before the scab can form. He's putting this one last, he thinks. A last bittersweet melody to send the listener on their way. Soft words about someone lovely, stupidly pretty and perfect in their imperfections. About something fragile, that will break if you try and tuck it too close, will disappear if you call it by its name.

Later, they add a deep baseline to it, tempo slow and intense, something sensual just out of reach, something bittersweet at the tip of his tongue as he sings. It's cathartic, and he hopes, really really hopes, that he's got it all out of his system. 

Chapter Text

Track 8: Me (Better with you)

Item: Battle vest of bardic inspiration (basic armor)

It figures, really, that the next time he and Steve get the chance to spend time together, Eddie is leaning against a damp wall in some gross old alley, knuckles bleeding and a head full of static.

And, shit, the day had been going so well, too.

They had finally gotten to play at an actual music venue, and it had been fucking glorious. Sure, it had taken Gareth badgering the owner for a solid week to get them a spot, but it had been so so worth it. A proper venue, where the speakers weren't blown and the crowd had paid actual tickets to see them? Thats huge! Sure, the backstage area had still been stinking of cigarette smoke and cat pee, but whatever. He can call that metal, too.

Not to mention, about halfway through the set they had premiered Robin's song, and the crowd had been jumping before they even reached the chorus. For a moment he had imagined he saw her messy mop of hair there, jumping along and screaming at top of her lungs instead of trying to be a good student across town. Next one, I'll be there I swear, she had said, silly sparkling eyes and everything, even though he knew that it was the appeal of possibly studying with Nancy that was keeping her away. He hadn't blamed her though, really. Maybe next time, Nancy could come too.

Anyway, Robin had been over like three times already that week, taking up space, filling the silence. And the day before, he had finally built up the courage to play her the song. Her song.

They had blamed any red-rimmed eyes after their subsequent hug on the weed, of course, but they had both known better. It's a happy song, really, but after what they have been through, it seems everything good hits just a little harder.

The best part, though, was that tomorrow he won't be feeling quite as raw as he searches for press reviews in the paper. Because he's gotten his most important feedback already.

The set had been more originals than covers for the first time, and Eddie had been buzzing the whole way through, jumping around and doing some of his best guitar moves, reveling in the instant crowd feedback. I could do this forever, he had thought, as the noise drowned out the chaos of thoughts in his head, the vibrations shaking out the aches from his bones. He had been feeling too old, too fragile as of late, but all it had taken was a few notes of the intro to get him started, and all that bullshit had been blown away in blinding light and thundering noise, leaving only that high of feeling well and truly alive.

But like with any addiction, the comedown is a bitch, and tonight had been no exception.

He hadn't fully shaken the adrenaline when he clocked the guys waiting for him outside the venue backstage entrance. At first glance, they had looked like completely normal dudes just hanging out, but there was something in their stance that had set Eddie on edge. And, true to his suspicions, it hadn't been long until they had advanced on him like fucking Jason Carver version 2 and 3.

He'd had a moment of being resigned, already angling his elbows in and considering the most likely exit strategy, when the door had opened again behind him, and Jess had walked out. His sweet, shy drummer who was barely out of highschool and only really came alive behind a set of drums. Yeah, there was no way he was going to let anything happen to her.

So, long story short, as things escalated, he had tried to channel Nancy and somehow grabbed the fist before it had even gotten close to Jess's face. Unfortunately, it had instead gone through the window of the door, shattering all over his knuckles. And ok, maybe he had lost it a little at the pain, the glass too reminiscent of rows and rows of tiny bat teeth. Maybe he had brandished his knuckles, scarlet and dipping, eyes wild, and asked is this all you got, you fuckers? But hey, once a freak, always a freak, right?

Luckily, these particular assholes had not been brave enough to stick around after that, which was good, because his knees had already been starting to shake. Maybe these guys weren't like Carver after all, he had thought, as they left with their tails between their legs. Maybe he'd gone a little too far. Looking over at Jess, though, he had been happy to see her smiling in relief, rather than in disgust or fear.

And this, of course, brings us back to the present, where a battered and tired Eddie hears a familiar voice from the end of the alley. A voice he would know anywhere, for his sins.

”Eddie?”

Steve, ever graceful in motion, is sprinting over to them, all worried eyes and raised fists. His hair is a little wilder than normal, his face a little flushed, and guess what , Eddie's brain tells him helpfully, you love him still.

Fuck.

”A little late for the knight in shining armor routine, Stevie” he manages, suddenly tired where he leans against the damp wall, fumbling for a smoke.

”Jess, Steve, Steve, Jess” He mumbles around the cigarette when he finally manages to get it to his lips, gesturing between them with his free hand. It's only when he notices the blood smear on the lighter that his hands start to shake. Shit, he's a mess.

”Hey,” he hears Jess say, as he tries to focus on his breathing ”I gotta run or my parents will freak but hey, Eddie, thank you.” and it's sweet. He barely only hears it though, the fog of his brain closing in.That could have been so much worse, he tries to remind himself. I've been through so much worse.

”Can you make sure he gets that looked after?” Jess-in-the-distance says now, her shape moving to face Steve.

”Yeah, yeah of course” he hears Steve respond, voice a little hoarse, and then Jess is gone.

When the dark spots dancing around his vision start to fade, he's gently being guided into the passenger seat of Steve's car. It smells of Robin's perfume and Steve's hairspray, and the familiarity of it grounds him, a little. Steve's hands are gentle on him as they buckle him in, careful around his still bleeding hand.

”You got a first aid kit in your apartment?” Steve asks, when he gets himself situated in the driver's seat. Eddie nods, because of course he does. First aid kit, mace, trash can lid with nails hammered through it, he's all set. Because the threat might go away, but fuck it if the fear doesn’t linger.

He tries to center himself during the ride back to his, attempts the breathing exercises he was taught in trauma counseling. It's difficult, though, when his hand is throbbing and probably bleeding all over Steve's nice upholstery, so he tries to distract himself, instead. Considers Steve's dark silhouette as the lights of the city shoot past outside the windows.

They've not really seen each other in the past month, not since that night by Steve's pool. They don't hang out, really, unless there's a bigger social event going on. That's why it's even weirder that he's here now, apparently just hanging out by the venue of one of Eddie's gigs, ready to rush in at a moment's notice? What the fuck, Stevie? He doesn't ask, though. He's not sure how, and again, there is this fragile feeling in the air around them that he doesn't want to acknowledge, doesn't want to break.

”Are those guys anybody to worry about?” Steve asks eventually, lips tight around his anger.

”Nah,” Eddie replies with a sigh. ”Just some drunk idiots. Probably never punched anyone before in their lives.” With a chuckle, he adds; ”I think I scared them good though”

”O h my god , you definitely did, the look on their faces when they ran past me? They were shitting their pants man” Steve says, and when he grins, something in Eddie's chest settles. Calms. Like it finally believes that he's safe.

When they reach his street, Steve insists on helping him unbuckle, and Eddie lets him.

And when he fumbles with the keys as they get to his door, Steve's hand steadies him, guides him through and into the cramped bathroom in the back. It's easily the ugliest part of the apartment, all avocado porcelain and olive tiles, with only a few personal touches. The mirror has a post-it taped to it, a lipstick stain on it from a silly night with Robin and Nancy a while back. He still has the lipstick stashed somewhere, but couldn't tell you who's lips made the mark. In the small window, the fake plant sits lonely on the windowsill still, only slightly water damaged. It's a familiar place by now, though. His own space. It's the first time Steve's been to his apartment, he realizes, and abruptly does not know how to feel about it.

Once he is shown the right cabinet, Steve is of course all business, cleaning his hands and rummaging through the first aid kit, mumbling to himself something about the bandages being the cheap, shitty kind. Rude.

”Right,” Steve starts, taking out a set of tweezers and pinching them together a few times to... test them? ”I'm going to try and remove the glass first, ok?” Eddie nods, but continues to hover in the doorway, not sure where to put himself.

In the end, Steve makes a face and grabs his shoulders, maneuvering him to sit down on the lid of the toilet before kneeling on the floor in front of him. Between his legs. Jesus.

From this angle, unfortunately, Eddie can make out every tiny freckle spread like stars over Steve’s nose and cheeks. He's going to have to write something poetic about this, isn't he? Ugh.

He watches as Steve carefully disinfects the tweezers with a cotton ball, before lifting his injured hand to rest on the side of the sink. It's still pounding, still hot like a localized fever, and the cool porcelain of the sink feels good against his skin.

”This is probably going to hurt a lot, sorry” Steve says, looking up at Eddie through his lashes, and Eddie has to look away, overwhelmed. Then, as Steve gets to work, he definitely can't look. The abstract, sharp pain is bad enough without the added visual of the pieces being dug out of his skin.

Steve's face is a grimace of concentration as he manages to get the first one out, and Eddie watches, mesmerized as Steve drops it onto a paper towel. Blood and water gently fanning out from where the piece now sits. That.. wasn’t too bad, he thinks, but then Steve goes for the second shard, and it slips out of his grasp halfway out, forcing him to dig a little deeper, push in under the skin to grab at it again. It's a lot , and Eddie can't help the pathetic noise that comes out of his throat.

”Sorry, sorry” Steve says immediately through clenched teeth, his eyebrows apologetic but his focus on the task intense. Once the piece finally comes free, with another hiss from Eddie and another apology from Steve, Eddie has to lean his head back against the wall and groan.

”Shit, man, stop saying sorry, You are the one helping here for fucks sake” Steve nods, the apology that he's just been told not to utter clear on his face. This is going to take a while, and not be fun, he can already tell. 

”Hey, Stevie,” He says, trying to think of ways to make it easier on both of them “how about you distract me or something. Talk about.. your day or whatever” 

”Uh, yeah ok” Steve says, and he sounds a little wobbly, but then he continues more in his usual tone. ”Um, I'm sure yours was more interesting. Oh, did you enjoy your gig?” Eddie snorts a little, but accepts the opening for what it is.

”Yeah, its was..(FUCK ow ow ok), yeah, yeah it was great” He bites out, and Steve's eyebrows are going to get stuck in that position if they try to look more apologetic, jesus.

”Better question,” He decides to say eventually, as Steve deposits another piece of glass, red stains now covering the paper towel, ”Did you?” It's a calculated guess, but the way Steve stiffens and drops the tweezers tells him he's right.

”Oh, um.” Steve responds, disinfecting the tweezers again and clearly stalling for time. ”Yeah, sorry I didn't tell you I was coming.. I, um. Robin said I should go since she couldn't. She said I would learn something? I don't know.” Now it's Eddie's turn to stiffen. Robin you meddling piece of shit.

He hasn't even told her yet, how did she know? Has he been that obvious? Shit, did she remember that stupid comment he made while they were drunk back in the beginning of the year? Ahh, this is bad. Robin can never let things lie, and he knows that for a fact. Only last week he had caught her giving Dustin of all people relationship advice regarding Susie over the phone. He didn't even know they talked , let alone traded girl tips, what the hell?

His thoughts are interrupted by another shard being pulled from his knuckles, not able to hold back a hiss as it goes. When he can breathe properly again, he asks. Has to ask.

”And did you? Learn something?”

”Yeah, I think so. Nancy told me you write the lyrics?” For god's sake, Et tu, Nancy? ”and some of those songs... they were about the kids, right? And Nancy and Rob?”

Eddie pounces on the opportunity to tell the truth, or at least, the easier truth, and nods vigorously. He's not as embarassed about it as he used to be, no longer as worried about anyone finding his gay ass poetry and laughing about it as he used to.

”Red's revenge is totally Max, right?” Steve says with a grin, and Eddie has to smile, too.

”Yeah, I wrote her a ballad and she got mad, so I had to write another” Steve laughs at that, and they share a fond smile, basking in their shared love for the little shits.

”Nancy told me how you gave her that pep talk, before you wrote her song. That was really good of you.” Eddie tries to shrug at that, but Steve sends him a Hold still look and grabs on to Eddie thigh, pinning him in place. Swallowing, Eddie tries to find his words.

”I guess I just figured I owed all of you, after everything.” He says, conveying the shrug with his tone best he can. Tries to soften what it is.

”I thought you maybe had a crush on her or something” Steve admits, looking a little sheepish. ”I...uh, kinda figured that wasn't the case after I picked you and Rob up at that place downtown.”

He says it only half as a question, and Eddie has to laugh a little hysterically. He doesn’t deny it though, and as coming out moments go, well, he has no fucking idea how to rank this one. Steve Harrington, always chill in the face of some of the most un-chill things in the fucking universe. 

”My point is, though,” Steve continues, clearly unbothered by that , ”I've heard the stories from everyone. How they can just come to you with whatever, and apparently you give great advice and write really sweet songs” And Eddie is blushing now, suddenly hit by the sensation of being a person with real impact in the world around him, and not just some funny little guy who plays music and shoots the shit with his friends. But Steve's not done.

”and I gotta tell you man, it did not fit with the image I had of you as this guy who doesn't give a fuck what anyone thinks” He lets go a little too early of the piece of glass, and it falls to the floor. ”Shit, sorry, I'll get that.” He leans over, and Eddie watches, mesmerized, the small hairs at the back of Steve's neck move as he folds himself forward to pick up the glass from the floor. He wonders if the hair had gotten messed up when he was standing in the crowd, watching Eddie play. Man, he really wishes he had known Steve was there. Would definitely have toned down a hip move or two.

”Anyway”, Steve continues as he gets back up, disinfecting the tweezers again. ”After getting your help last time, and then hearing your songs tonight, I think I get it. You really do care about people, Munson.” He says, that earnest look back on his face as he leans his hip against the sink. ”Its pretty fucking cool.”

And what the hell do you say to that? Swallowing around the lump in his throat, Eddie decides that focusing on the pain might be easier, actually.

”I think that's all of them, I'm just going to clean it now, ok?” Steve says eventually, voice gentle as he puts the tweezers aside. Eddie's hand is still a bloody mess, but the pain is duller now, and he can actually look at it without wincing.

”Nothing seems to have gone too deep, you should be back playing that guitar in no time” Steve says with half a smile as he starts cleaning the wound. The disinfectant solution stings, but he knows its a healing kind of pain. Knows it's almost over.

”I do still have one question, though.” Steve continues eventually, face still concentrating on the task ahead of him.

”Hit me, Harrington. Youve got me pinned down, might as well take the opportunity” He says without thinking, and what the fuck, brain? Luckily, Steve seems too engrossed in his task to notice, even if his face looks a little pink. Its warm in here, that’s probably why. Eddie sure feels a bit like he's on fire, still. Eventually, Steve clears his throat and asks his question.

”Who helps you, Eddie? Because it looks to me like we all come to you when we are struggling, when we are upset, and you always help. Always say the thing we need. So, who does that for you?” I do , he tries to say, but can't. Because it's not really true. He manages, sure, but there are bad days. Lonely days.

”Hey, I'm.. I'm fine,” He tries instead, ”I don't need-”

”Bullshit! You almost died, Eddie. They say its a fucking miracle you didnt. Not to mention the fucking hell week before it. Everyone has been saying that you are all right, that you’ve found a life and moved on, but I’ve been worried about you, ok? This stuff. It's not easy. Tonight, though, when I saw you on that stage, I thought, wow, he really is ok” He stops, catching his breath. ”But then, I find you in an alley, taking on two thugs on your fucking own? Jesus Eddie, what if your little act hadn’t scared them off? Who would you have called to help, if you got really hurt? Because the rest of us need each other to function, after everything. And we need you, too.”

He looks up at Eddie again, like he hasn't just dropped a huge fucking bomb into his lap. Like Steve knows him, truly, deeply. And it scares the fuck out of him.

”So this is just me saying, you can ask me, ask us, for help, if you need it.” He finishes, voice steady and hand gently resting on Eddie's knee as he shakes.

”Steve. Please don't.” He manages, his voice weak. He can't do this. He can't.

”No, I’m serious. Because you are one of us too. And this thing goes both ways.” Steve says and oh, he's so good. He's so fucking good, and Eddie doesn't deserve him, doesn't deserve any of them, and he's crying now. fuck. He managed the whole goddamn vecna ordeal without crying in front of Steve and this is what does it? Jesus christ. His eyes feel warm and itchy with it, and he faintly remembers that he probably still has some glitter eyeliner smudged around them. Wow, he is such a mess.

Steve keeps cleaning his hand, fingertips so gentle it hurts, and in the end that's what breaks him. He's taken so much bullshit and survived, but this. This wonderful, ridiculous man is going to kill him with some basic fucking kindess, the kind he gives to everyone, every day. Fuck.

Steve doesn't acknowledge his tears, only smiles at his mumbled ”Jesus christ Harrington, fuck you”, and calmly finishes drying off and bandaging his hand with expert fingers. When finished, he gently puts Eddie's hand down again and pulls the rest of him into a hug. They stay that way for a long time, until Eddie's eyes are done spilling over, and he just feels raw, and tired.

”I really liked your songs, by the way.” Steve says, into the silence. ”Robin's one made me cry though, you bastard.” and Eddie laughs wetly at that. Maybe they are all a little messed up when it comes to good things, just like he thought.

”Can I ask...” he starts, and Eddie laughs again with a sniffle, letting go of the hug and wiping his eyes, probably smudging what's left of the makeup to hell.

”Fuck, man, ask away, I clearly can’t hide shit from you” He says, voice only wavering a little, thank god. Steve takes a little longer to continue this time, and when he does, his voice is careful. A little insecure for the first time tonight.

”Your songs... Why didn't you write one about me, Eddie?”

”Shit, Steve. I always write about you” he says, has to say, because there's nothing left now, no barriers, no walls. He trusts now that whatever Steve needs to do, he will do softly and with gentle hands.

”Tell me about it” Steve asks, curious, and Eddie almost does, before he swallows. He needs a moment.

”Hey, let me... Let's get out of this room first, yeah? I need to drink some water and clear my head.” He leads Steve by the hand to the kitchen, unwilling to let go. His limbs feel soft, his eyes achy, but the hand is secure in his, grounding him.

Switching on the kitchen lightbulb, he's struck again by the fact that this is the first time Steve's been in his apartment, yet somehow it doesn't really feel like it. It's like the ghost of him already settled in, a long time ago. He drops down on the couch now, eyes following Eddie as he moves around the kitchen space, managing to down two large glasses of water before the pressure behind his eyes finally goes away.

Eddie thinks of Robin in that same spot on the couch, restless. Of Nancy, rubbing sleep from her eyes. In that space, their space, (eddies space), Steve isn't small and fidgeting like Robin, or confident and frustrated like Nancy. He's just attentive, genuinely curious about what Eddie is about to say. So, he gathers all the courage he has left, and sits down next to him, careful not to touch.

”After last time, by the pool, I wrote something. You.. you've already heard it. Remember the last song, the quieter one with the acoustic guitar?” He gestures vaguely, hoping the rest will be apparent. Hoping that Steve had paid attention, had understood the meaning.

”Eddie”

”Yeah”

”That was a love song”

”Yeah.”

After a moment of silence, Steve gets up, starts pacing the room. Eddie doesn't mind, lets him take his time. He feels safe, still, and isn't that something. They can move on now he thinks, maybe have what he has with the girls. Something permanent, something sweet, and maybe that will be enough.

”Hey, Steve, it's ok.” he says, not wanting to put the poor guy through too much guilt ” You know I wouldn't expect...”

”I know, I know, shut up”

”o...kay?” That's unexpected.

”H-How long?” Steve settles on eventually, and Eddie shrugs.

”Probably a long time, I think there’d been something there ever since I woke up in the hospital. I only really knew for sure after our talk last time though. Sorry for not telling you”

”No, don't... Don't apologize, jesus” Steve says now, voice tense. Eddie has to sigh.

”All right, what do you want from me, Steve. To tell you that I fell for your stupid pretty face and the way you care way too much about everyone?” He hides his face in his hair, embarrassed. ”That I have avoided you ever since I moved because I was afraid I would be too obvious? That I can't stop thinking about you, even when I haven't seen you in weeks?” and oh, god, he needs to shut up. Needs to redirect before it gets too embarrassing.

”So. uh. Anyway, If we can get to the point where you reject me and we move on with our lives, that would be great.” But Steve is still silent. Still on edge, continuously pacing. Eddie's not sure what's going on here. He had imagined a gentle Sorry, I'm not... Or thanks for telling me, but...

Instead, he's getting this increasingly agitated Steve in his living room and he's not sure how to fix it. Eventually, Steve starts to talk again, voice a little frantic, eyes not meeting Eddies.

”So, uh, Robin's been trying to tell me something, right, in that stupid way she does when she hints at things but wont tell me them because she says you have to figure this one out on your own, dingus and I just didnt get it”

”Oh, um yeah, I guess she must have noticed, somehow” Eddie shrugs, figures it's not that surprising. The girl's clever, and maybe he's been pining, whatever.

”No, not... not about you. Though she might have known that too. Something about... me.” He finishes, voice a little quieter towards the end, and Eddie has no idea what to think, what to say.

Outside the window, the first light of dawn is hitting the city, breaking through the hollow spaces and bathing the room in a soft, pale glow. It paints Steve in its golden light as he paces, words quiet on his lips as he mumbles to himself. He's beautiful, as always, and Eddie allows himself to watch, to be a little obvious now that he has nothing left to hide. He will rein it in, eventually, make sure they set boundaries. Keep Steve comfortable. But for now, he has laid it all out there, and the fear is gone, finally.

Suddenly, Steve comes to a halt. He turns around, and when his eyes finally meet Eddies, his face is doing something Eddie has never seen before. Something vulnerable, yet surprised.

”Oh, my god, Eddie, I'm so stupid.”

”What?”

”I thought I only found you hot because you have long hair and big eyes and my brain was confused or whatever, though that doesnt explain my obsession with your fucking hips-”

My what

”Eddie, when I saw you tonight. In the alley, on the stage, even before that... When you left my house that day, I didn't want you to leave. I never want you to leave.”

Eddie's brain is static,white noise, his eyes unfocused, because what. WHAT.

”What?” He says again, but Steve ignores him.

”and then, I've been obsessing over you ever since last time, with figuring your shit out, making sure you were ok, and Robin was laughing at me! Saying she'll check in on you, but I couldn't drop it, couldn't stop thinking about you and your sad face and... ”

”Steve. Steve you are not making any sense” Eddie says, standing up, heart in his throat.

”I know, I know.” and he moves his lips, runs his hands over his face, but he seems to have run out of words. ”Eddie..” He whispers, finally, and they are close now, so so close, dust mites floating in the ray of sun between them, and for the first time since all of this started, Eddie hopes. His insides are a wriggling mess of anxiety but goddamnit, he hopes.

”Steve, that doesn't sound like a rejection.”

”Maybe because it isn't '' Steve responds, voice barely above a whisper, and his eyes are huge and he's licking his lips, leaning closer and all the reasons this is a bad idea are gone from Eddie's head, replaced by static and heat and Steve.

When they touch, Steve's lips are soft against his, a little clumsy despite his experience, and distantly, Eddie feels a little smug. More acutely, though, he is losing his goddamn mind because Steve is kissing him, or he's kissing Steve, and Steve's hands are coming up to grab at his shirt, pulling him closer, and fuck whatever he said about being on the stage earlier, because this. This is the best feeling in the world.

Suddenly, he realizes that he can touch, too, probably, and fuck he needs to do that like right now. Steves sides, his ribs, his shoulders,the back of his neck, shit, they all feel so amazing and when he finally, finally gets to push his hand into that stupid hair of his, Steve moans with it and isn't that a fucking revalation. They stumble, then, neither paying much attention to their feet, and Eddie falls into a sitting position on the couch, Steve on top of him, his eyes wide.

”Christ, Eddie, I can't believe I was in love with you and I didn't even know” Steve whispers, voice a little shaky and Holy shit . Eddie wonders what it is like, to be someone like Steve who can just s ay stuff like that with a straight face. Wonders how he can sit here, lips red, his cheeks pink, eyes earnest, and just say exactly what he means. Meanwhile, Eddie can't breathe. Still stuck in wonder, he reaches up, lets his thumb trace the side of Steve's face, along the jawline, and can't believe he's allowed to.

”Me too, shit, me too” he whispers, finally, and in his smile, he sees that Steve hears what he doesn't say. What he has already said, hours ago, on a stage where everyone but Steve were supposed to hear it. I love you too.

They fall asleep together on the couch, eventually, foreheads close and hands entwined. It's been a long night, and the exhaustion caught up with them, eventually. When they wake, Steve is still real, still soft in the daylight, and Eddie's smile might never leave his face again.

In the quiet space of the room, they whisper the words they had been afraid to say last night, easier now that they are close, now that it feels real.

”Won't you write me a love song, Eddie? A happy one, this time?” Steve whispers, eventually, and it's easy to say yes, because he's already started writing it, halfway through a dream, the words already soft in the back of his throat. He thinks there's no limit to the songs he could write about this man. Later, Steve will ask him where his token is, his gift to keep Eddie with him even when he is not, and Eddie has to hide his face again. Has to admit that he already gave it to him, over a year ago, when he looked at a bloody Steve in an alternate dimension and thought, this pretty boy needs some armor, or I'll lose him far too soon.

The song is surprisingly upbeat in the end, a repeated riff surrounding a story of doubt and hope, but most of all full of the promise of a bright future, and the amazing revelation that sometimes when you fall, soft hands might catch you on the way down.

Magical Item, bonus:

1 vinyl record titled Songs From the Shadow Realm by Corroded Coffin, 1987

(cover illustration: A trailer stands alone in a desolate landscape, the members of the band stood atop it in full gear, seemingly mid-gig. Around them, Monsters are closing in. The silhouette of three figures stand in the light from the doorway of the trailer, ready to fight the oncoming horde. The one on the left holds a shotgun, the one on the right a molotov cocktail. In the middle, axe aloft, stands a man in a denim vest)

On the back, a tracklist with accompanied notes can be found, looking like someone handwrote notes all over it, when in fact it is all printed on.

Track list

Track 1. Shotgun Sweetheart (Nancy's Song)

Track 2. Go get your girl, Rob

Track 3. Nerds like us (save the world)

Track 4. Max's Song part 1 (instrumental)

Track 5. Max's song part 2 (Red's Revenge)

Track 6. Good people (better friends)

Track 7. You (but not for me)

Track 8. Me (better with you)

This made me cry and also got me a GF, 10/10 – Rob

My song is so perfect, thank you, I'm gonna listen to it next time I want to kick someone in the face -Nance

( A drawing of a skull and crossbones, with hearts for eyes ) - Jess

I love it, you dork, could be more metal though – Max

This is so gay dude - Gareth

I can't believe only one of them is about me dude, what the hell – Dustin

I like the last one best, love - S