Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It’s… not the stupidest thing Dustin’s ever done. It’s far from the stupidest thing he’s ever done, really, because it was much less dangerous, on every level, and he’d considered it, critically, he had.

Like, okay, threats? Alright, well, Steve’s parents could have been home. But, let's be honest here, that scenario wasn’t exactly likely, and Dustin’s pretty sure he’d have noticed if it was a possibility; you can kind of tell from Steve’s mood. Besides, Steve’s was the only car there when he arrived, and he’d checked that - he had, Steve - so he couldn’t be blamed for that one. He had no reason to suspect that anyone else was in the house at all.

And he might have been spotted by a neighbor, admittedly, as threat number two. But, well, it was early, he’d reasoned, and surely if he was there to do something illegal he’d be using the cover of darkness, right? He wasn’t an idiot. Plus, in the event that someone remembered that questionable behavior wasn’t limited to nighttime, then if he just walked like he was meant to be there then there really was no reason to suspect him regardless.

The neighbors must have seen him over there before, anyway, surely? And even if they hadn’t, and despite what Steve said, Dustin totally had an innocent-looking face. He’d trust himself, if he happened to see himself wandering onto Steve’s property unsupervised. Assuming this was a scenario where he was someone else, and he wasn’t just watching some random doppelgänger, because obviously that wasn’t trustworthy at all, and he didn’t want to see someone else wearing his face, but even then he’s pretty sure Steve would be able to recognise an imposter, so. 

But again, he was just walking, and alright so maybe he’d looked over his shoulder a few times, but that was just sensible behavior to make sure he wasn’t being tailed, or something. And if he hadn’t done that and there had been an actual intruder following him then that would just have been a rookie error, and Dustin was determined not to be some kind of amateur. He’d been taking this seriously, and was that really so wrong?

It’s not like he jumped the fence, after all. It really had been more of a dignified climb, and he’d only ducked and crouched at that one section directly in view of the neighbors’ window, but, see, they wouldn’t have seen that, that was the entire point. 

Because he’d thought about it, see, totally critically, and if he had been seen and they’d reported him anyway, then, well, it’s not like Steve would press charges. So if you thought about it he was being totally responsible, and there was every reason to believe that there was absolutely no risk here.

And the cameras, well, trying to hide from them would’ve just been more suspicious, and it’s not like he didn’t want Steve to know it was him, so he hadn’t made any mistakes in that part of the planning, at least. It was never meant to be a secret, it was just… a surprise - which Steve apparently knows a lot about, anyway, and now Dustin certainly does.

Oh, and if he knows the code to the alarm then really that’s Steve’s fault, too, for never bothering to cover it. 

Like, what did he expect Dustin to do with that? That was a challenge, if he’d ever seen one. A taunt, if you will. 

The only options were that Steve hadn’t thought about it - which was stupid, or that he had thought about it but he trusted Dustin - which was also stupid. 

Well, no. Dustin wasn’t going to be giving the code to anyone else, he supposes, because he’d earned that himself and he didn’t actually want Steve to get robbed or whatever. So, okay, it was fair to trust him there, it would be stupid to think that he’d want to cause Steve harm. 

But trusting Dustin not to use the code for his own gain? Dustin couldn’t be held responsible for Steve underestimating him, that fault was totally on him. 

So Dustin hadn’t done anything wrong in any of that, it was totally calculated.

And, like, Eddie had stolen a car once. Not even a car, an RV, which was considerably bigger and therefore much more impressive, just objectively. And, alright, so he’d done it for good reason, and technically it was more temporarily appropriated, rather than taken, because they didn’t keep it, but.

But he’d done it so casually, is the thing. And easily. 

And Dustin didn’t have any interest in crime, genuinely - he didn’t think he really had the stomach for petty theft, even, because he had shoplifted once as a kid and it was mostly an accident when he forgot he was still holding something as he walked out of the store but he still felt guilty about it, sometimes? Because he hadn’t returned it once he’d noticed and he thought if he did he’d get in trouble and he couldn’t handle the disappointed look on his mom’s face if she knew even though sometimes he was convinced from the way she looked at him that she did suspect and some days he still felt like he was going to be arrested for it.

Like, okay, so it was only a comic book, and it wasn’t even a rare one, but it was pretty close to mint condition since he didn’t dare to even touch it since that would feel like accepting the theft and benefiting from it? But he was scared to throw it away in case the police found it in the trash or something and knew it was stolen and then it would be traced back to him and he’d go to jail and he really couldn’t leave his mom on her own like that and she really would be disappointed and also she was kind of scary?

And he’d thought about throwing it away in someone else’s trash but then what if they went to prison and he was responsible for it? Or what if he hadn’t removed his fingerprints effectively enough, and he’d just given someone the opportunity to discover and report his crime? And he’d thought about tearing it up and disposing of it across different places but then wasn’t that more obvious and also that was kind of a waste of a good comic book?

And he’d thought about just giving it to someone else like it was a gift but even if it was donated, like, that was still stolen goods, and there was something wrong about them not knowing that? What if the theft had made it tainted now anyway - or cursed? He couldn’t do that to someone. Plus, what if it wasn’t a good comic book, and then they just thought he had bad taste? Dustin didn’t know, he hadn’t read it, and also wouldn’t it be kind of devastating to have permanently damaged his record over a comic that wasn’t even good?

And he’d thought about just anonymously giving the money to the store now to retrospectively pay for it, because as stated a loan clearly wasn’t as bad as a theft, but if he just left it in the aisle then anyone could take it and if he gave it to the cashier in person then they’d know and also what about inflation? He couldn’t determine the value anymore, and would it be like a rental with a late fee, and surely he couldn’t afford that by this point anyway, so where did that leave him?

It left him with a stolen comic book beneath the loose floorboard under his bed, is the answer, and it felt so obvious and he’s better than that but, like, what self-respecting or sensible person would look that closely under the bed of a teenage boy, right? And maybe it being so obvious is what made it so genius? And, okay, so he doesn’t know if you’ve ever heard of this story called “The Tell-Tale Heart” by Edgar Allen Poe, but he doesn’t hear, like, the pages rustling, anymore, so it’s fine, mostly.

He doesn’t have the stomach for petty theft, is the point. At least not outside of end-of-the-world exceptions.

But Eddie made it look so easy, though, like he hadn’t even had to think about it or justify it to himself. And it’s not that Dustin wants to break the law, really, honestly - Steve, don’t even worry about it - but he did… I mean he did want to reach that level of cool, yeah. 

He couldn’t casually hotwire a vehicle, or take a comic without crying - oh, had he mentioned the crying? - but he could absolutely make his way into Steve Harrington’s house uninvited with some sense of pride. 

And maybe that would even, like, redeem him, somehow? His previous scrape with the wrong side of the law had been kind of traumatizing, maybe,  and shouldn’t Steve want him to get over that? Never mind that he’s apparently replacing it with a different kind of trauma, because he couldn’t possibly have known that at the time.

This was… I mean wanting to feel cool was absolutely a fair enough motivation, right? That was a justifiable reason to do anything so long as it didn’t get anyone hurt.

It was a big house, is the thing. The kind of big where if there was a real break-in you couldn’t really feel bad for the owners, anyway, ‘cause they clearly had enough money to comfort them or replace whatever was lost. And, like, again, Dustin didn’t want any actual misfortune to befall Steve, honestly - though if it had just been his parents, well. He’d heard Eddie say “eat the rich,” once, and he liked that.

But it was a big house, okay, like the kind of big that’s just inherently sort of tempting? Like Dustin really can’t be blamed for eyeing up this thing and thinking, huh, wouldn’t it be cool if I could just… walk in?

And it was completely besides the point that he had walked in, many times, and that Steve had no problem with letting him come over. It was being there when he wasn’t supposed to be that was tempting, and Dustin doesn’t think there’s anything wrong with that impulse. Or, well, he didn’t. Now he has absolutely no desire to be there when he’s not supposed to be, but if he hadn’t known what he might walk in to then just wanting to walk in was totally innocent and understandable.

Right?

Plus Dustin had this whole image, in his head, of Steve incredulously accusing him of breaking and entering, with this specific expression he does that he thinks is stern and authoritative but that Dustin recognises as exasperated more than anything else so knows isn’t too serious. And Dustin could smirk as he asked “what did I break?” and the corner of Steve’s mouth would twitch and he’d cover his face like he was disappointed when really he was hiding a smile.

And like, why should he be denied that joy, you know?

Because burglars, undoubtedly, were the coolest kind of criminals. He’d given that a lot of critical consideration too, because this had always been a serious operation. Who were they hurting, really, if they were stealing from rich people? That was what Robin Hood did, and he got praised for it, and burglars didn’t even have to wear tights to rob people, which had to make them cooler automatically?

Admittedly, they also lacked the bow and arrow, and the snazzy hat with the feather in it, but the masks were mysterious, and Dustin figured it was probably inherently more questionable to bring a weapon into someone’s house, and he may have worn a striped shirt for this.

It’s not black and white, though, ‘cause he doesn’t own one of those, and again he didn’t want to look suspicious, but he thinks the outfits are more of a statement than a requirement anyway. His statement could be that he’s too cool for that kind of statement.

Eddie wouldn’t have needed an outfit - uh, evidently. But the point is that it’s not about the clothing. Like, Eddie could make pretty much anything look cool while wearing a Hellfire shirt. Except not this, even if he was so inclined, because you shouldn’t commit crimes in identifying clothing, obviously, and Dustin still isn’t stupid. Not that he doesn’t think the Hellfire shirt is cool anyway, and not that this was a crime, again, really. He doesn’t do crimes.

And also thank God there’s no Hellfire shirt in sight, right now.

…No, wait, not like-

Besides, he’s not actually convinced, if he thinks about it, that burgling is what he was doing? He might have to research it, later, provided no one sees him doing the research, because again, that’s suspicious behavior and Dustin thought these things through. But he was never actually planning on taking anything, just sort of… letting himself in? Because he wasn’t actually a thief, after all, and the getting in was the fun part, surely, besides the look on Steve’s face - the one he was supposed to get, and honestly for such a big house there really wasn’t much in it? 

Dustin’s not sure what Steve’s parents have against, like, owning things, but besides the furniture and a couple of paintings he thinks it’s what he’s heard people call “minimalistic” but what he understands is a kinder way of saying “sad and depressing”. There’s no photographs, no random souvenirs or expressions of personality, and he gets that this is what houses look like in catalogs but it shouldn’t be what they look like when they’re lived in, surely?

The only place he could really take something, Dustin reasoned, was likely Steve’s room, but he’d felt like he could probably just do that anyway? Which wasn’t really as exciting. Like Steve, generally, will say yes to anything Dustin asks so long as it sounds reasonable, and Dustin thinks if he spun him a reason for why he needed his lamp, or something, chances are that Steve would just give it to him. 

He once told Steve that he needed a second scoop of ice cream because, if he had two, then the second one would be the perfect amount of melted by the time he reached it, and did Steve not want him to experience ice cream in its best form? What was the point of the ice cream at all, if it was going to be a subpar experience?

And he knows he could’ve just waited for the ice cream to melt, and surely Steve had considered that, but he gave him the second scoop anyway, for free. And it was possibly just to get him to stop talking, but he doesn’t have a problem with the reasoning so long as it gets him what he wants. 

He really does think he’s being deprived by Steve no longer working at Scoops, as a side note. The hat was funny, too.

Maybe he should still ask Steve for a lamp, actually, since the only reason Dustin’s thinking about it is because he knocked his own onto the floor this morning. And he’d done it because he was too excited about this whole endeavor, too, so, really that was Steve’s fault as well. He owed him a lamp, if you thought about it. 

It didn’t even look cool when it broke, not that he’d meant to do it anyway, but it could’ve been a consolation, or something. The bulb didn’t smash, and it stayed in one piece in general, which might make you think that it was well constructed, but there was only a faint thud and then it wouldn’t switch on again. And, like, if it was only going to take a tiny fall to break, it could at least have the decency of being more dramatic about it. 

Dustin deserves more excitement, he thinks. Very different excitement to the kind that he gets, to clarify.

He could still just take a lamp, sure, but again he really doesn’t like Steve’s parent’s lack of taste and he thinks Steve might even buy him one, if he begged. It’s for his education, he reasons. How is he going to read at night, if he doesn’t have a lamp? And isn’t Steve supposed to support such nerdy protests?

Lamps aside, the important thing here is that Dustin breaks into Steve’s house not for any true nefarious reason, but to satisfy his craving for faux criminality. 

And is that not moral? To expend that urge on a victimless act, to get that rush of coolness and then even if it was addictive, well, Steve would still live there, right? He could just make it more challenging, next time. He could set up an obstacle course. Have a strict time limit.

Get Steve a guard dog?

He wants a tangle of lasers to weave through, if he’s honest, and a safe, and ropes, and maybe a grappling hook, and night vision goggles. He wants easily distractible guards and thick heavy boots that are also somehow soundless and maybe, like, an earpiece? But he can work his way up, here.

If anything, Steve should be grateful that he wasn’t making more of a spectacle, is what this shows. Dustin could’ve given him a dog, and then what would he do? He was at work a lot, so it would probably be incredibly inconvenient, and Steve already had enough things - people - to care about. Apparently more than Dustin had realized, even.

Dustin could always have been more inconvenient, is all. Steve had gotten away lightly, really.

It’s possible Dustin hadn’t actually considered every angle, here. Like, for a start, it’s possible that he hadn’t actually wanted to be a burglar at all, but had wanted to be a spy? And, given what happens, maybe that is closer to his reality here regardless, but it’s true that it absolutely hadn’t been on his list of carefully examined possibilities, so, well. Maybe he hadn’t thought of everything. 

But in his defense, Steve was, famously, incredibly single. How was Dustin supposed to prepare for this?

It’s supposed to be a victimless not-crime, anyway, but the victim is very clearly him, here. And it feels like it’s probably illegal, that he witnesses it, though he’ll spend the rest of time, probably, convincing himself that he didn’t see anything. 

He did get to enjoy it, for a while, to be fair. The before part, that is, obviously. The front door was just as satisfying as he imagined, and he had imagined it, because he thought these things through. It opened with a click that he actively appreciated, and, like, could they not also appreciate the coolness of the fact that Dustin had, actually, managed it?

And it turns out the alarm wasn’t even on, actually, which was a shame but was also great news in the moment because Dustin absolutely forgot about it immediately and was busy celebrating his door opening victory, with appropriate levels of enthusiasm, at the time it would’ve gone off. And that’s disappointing, really, and Dustin will have to try the alarm thing one day for real, but again, like, this is Steve’s fault, here.

This is clear proof that Steve doesn’t take his home security seriously, and Dustin is raising his attention to a serious lapse of judgment, here. Steve had displayed an unacceptable level of risk and inattention, obviously, and he should thank him, if they’re honest. Plus, like, this never would have happened if Steve had remembered to put that alarm on, and that’s an objective fact, so it really, genuinely, just is not Dustin’s fault. He’s not sure how it could be.

It’s not the stupidest thing he’s ever done.

He does wonder, vaguely, what would have happened if the alarm had gone off. He wants to imagine an instant swarm of officers emerging in precise and coordinated formations, and a whole team vaulting from the ceilings covered in dark tactical gear, or maybe, like, immediate sirens blaring in the distance and the sudden flashing of lights.

There could be a whole squad of cars screeching as they cut corners and swerved unnecessarily and sped dangerously before they appeared with a wild spin and the squeal of brakes as the tyres skidded to a halt, possibly across gravel, because that was a good noise and it could, like, spray around the car as it stopped. With like the faintest hint of smoke and the smell of burning rubber, too.

Maybe Steve’s dad would get an alert to his office somewhere, and someone would pull up a video feed of Dustin’s exact location, and a disembodied voice would pipe up over a speaker, and Dustin would be interrogated and handcuffed and taken away in the back of a van and read his Miranda rights. Probably not in that order. But a van did feel cooler than a car, and that was almost more respect for the level of criminality, really, proof that they were taking it seriously. 

Like, he did that, he opened that door, that was him. What about it, officer?

…Or, no, uh, it wasn’t me, officer? I’m just an innocent child, you’ve made a mistake, don’t look under the bed - I mean, what?

Or, like, maybe Steve would have charged down the stairs wielding a nail-studded bat. Maybe both of them would, though Dustin doesn’t think he has two bats, but apparently he doesn’t know a lot of things? Though that would’ve been a fun story, Dustin thinks, and he’s sure they’re not the kinds of people to strike without looking, and he thinks that way they might’ve put some clothes on, first.

Or maybe not. He’s not sure if that’s more or less horrifying than the reality, actually. They looked pretty intense either way. Not that he is ever going to be putting any level of thought into how they looked, he actually - he went temporarily blind there, for a moment, he has no idea what, um, this could even be about.

The point is that it’s all a great success, up until… you know. He made it to the house without arousing suspicion, he unlocked the door, he didn’t trigger any alarms - he didn’t even feel the urge to steal anything besides a faint musing on lamps, so he’s definitely not an actual criminal - and obviously it was all because he’d thought the entire thing through and planned accordingly.

He didn’t do a single thing wrong, okay, if you wanted to make note of that.

But then, of course, he had to inform Steve of said success. Because, also, being in the house without Steve knowing about it is an incredible achievement, obviously, and very cool, but then it reaches the part where it just becomes creepy? And he didn’t want to make Steve uncomfortable, with this whole, oh, yeah, I broke into your house once and you had no idea about it as I walked around while you were - supposedly - asleep. And half of the fun was always going to be in telling him, right?

It doesn’t really work out that way.

He… you know what, honestly, Dustin’s not even convinced that he was being that quiet? So that’s another mark for the column where, honestly, Steve could be held more responsible for just not being more aware of his surroundings and the potential dangers within them. Steve probably didn’t look over his shoulders as he walked around… his own house… and maybe - maybe that was on him…?

He could’ve heard him, anyway. It’s not like Dustin was actively trying to creep up on him. Not… exactly? Sort of, but. 

But it wasn’t Dustin’s fault.

Like, alright, so Dustin was careful of that one stair that always creaked, because he had absolutely scoped out Steve’s house properly and he was prepared and he knew to watch out for these things, but beyond that he had probably stopped being as careful, by that point. Because he was excited, right, and Steve’s room was getting closer, and why move cautiously in the upstairs corridor when he was never going to sneak in there, he was always going to make his presence known, he’d always wanted the dramatic reveal at the end.

He… definitely gets that?

The general idea was to throw the door open, startle Steve, and get the immediate “what the fuck” of confused temporarily-angry-quickly-exasperated relief that he’d counted on. He didn’t expect the biggest “what the fuck” to come from him.

It goes like this.

Dustin, giddy with excitement, does not hesitate for a single moment over the door. He doesn’t pause to calm down, he doesn’t brace himself for the end result of all his planning, he doesn’t take a last second to remind himself of exactly how he’s going to open the door and what he’s going to say when he does it.

The handle is in sight, he’s reached for it before he can register the movement, and it’s possible that he was feeling slightly too energetic about the whole thing, because the door swings open with force. So much force, however, and subsequently so quickly, that the entire room is bared to him immediately. 

The room is not the only thing bare to him immediately. 

He doesn’t really register the first thing he hears - isn’t sure why anyone would want to know the first thing he hears - but he sees and then the door is hitting the wall so hard that it bounces straight off and collides with him instantly.

The impact still isn’t as bad as the sight before him.

Dustin has a good imagination, and he had not imagined this. 

He had assessed the situation from every possible angle, but it turns out that there are angles - positions, even - that he had not known existed.

In that last moment before the door hits him, Dustin has a wild and desperate second to think that this was absolutely not his fault.

Chapter Text

There’s a lot of yelling. A lot of it is incoherent. Most of it, Dustin is pretty sure, comes from him.

The door slams into him almost simultaneously alongside the realization, the “what the fuck” that is apparently happening, that is tumbling uncontrollably from his mouth, that has instantly shut down his brain - because he’d been thinking it through, earlier, Steve, had you?!

If Steve had just put on that alarm, or… 

And the door really is, like, unreasonably heavy. Like, what the fuck was it made out of, and how did it manage that when it also swung upon, like, way too easily, and did Steve not have a lock for that, either? Because the alarm had been one thing, but now - I mean anyone could have wandered in, so it really couldn’t be Dustin’s fault that… 

And Dustin is practically knocked into the doorframe, thrown in more ways than one, except he can’t really take notice of what gets hit, exactly, because it’s an attack from both sides, then, and obviously what’s in front of him feels like an impact, too, and at least that slight pain jolts him into at least a moment where he can think about something, anything else, but… 

“What the fuck?” He screeches, as he’s already trying to turn his body to face the other way. His hand had automatically gone to brace and stop the door that had battered him, but that was a mistake, clearly, ‘cause maybe if he hadn’t then it was heavy enough that it would’ve continued trying to fall shut and he could’ve let himself be pushed back to the corridor and they could all have pretended he’d never even started to enter that room.

Or maybe not, but it was a nice dream. 

Dustin had dreams, once. 

He’d had a recurring dream a few years back about being a court jester, and getting to wear those funky hats with bells on the ends of them, and finally mastering the art of juggling. And maybe that was strange, that he hadn’t wanted to be the one on the throne, but he was constantly underestimated and he could advise the king stealthily and he had a dagger concealed in a hidden pocket because he was secretly also an assassin.

This one time, he dreamed that he was really good at playing the flute, except he turned out to be like the Pied Piper of Hamelin and he could hypnotize people with the music, so he established the largest conga line in the world, except no one had their hands free to award him with his certificate for it, so it quickly lost its appeal.

Just last night he’d dreamt that he discovered an alien species in the woods, except it was actually an alien, like in E.T., and they’d played video games together. The alien was really good at Space Invaders, which hadn’t even seemed funny, at the time, and when Mike had suggested getting him Eggos the alien had promptly told him to “fuck off” because he found waffles offensive,  which was hilarious immediately.

He’d wish this was a dream except he really doesn’t want this kind of thing to be on his subconscious. 

No offense, or anything.

But even the nightmares don’t feel quite so… 

“What the fuck?” He tells the doorframe, and maybe a little bit of the corridor, except he tries to move so quickly that he gets himself almost tangled up, and at least one of his legs won’t cooperate and is still facing more towards the room, which is horrifying, because he really doesn’t want this kind of thing to be on his subconscious, and if he can avoid any more scarring mental images then that would be nice.

“What the fuck?” He repeats, against a rising sort of sense of hysteria, because his thoughts are tripping over themselves too, except he doesn’t want to listen to any of them right now, and what the actual fuck is going on?

There’s no world in which he could have prepared himself for this possibility.

He has absolutely no idea what it was that he’d been planning on saying when he opened that door. All other words have been lost to him. Other things have probably been lost too, because he doesn’t know if his eyes can ever unsee what just… 

“Henderson!” A voice shouts, startled, except that’s the wrong voice, that voice was not supposed to be in the room, and even if Dustin hadn’t seen he absolutely knows that voice, and what the fuck is happening, here? He didn’t even think… he didn’t… he didn’t even know that… 

What the fuck?

And then there’s Steve, and that’s okay, because he was always prepared for that, and it’s maybe even exactly what he might have heard anyway, but… 

“What the fuck are you doing?!” Steve demands, except it’s not funny at all, and Dustin wasn’t supposed to be the one being shocked, and how could something executed so perfectly go so unbelievably wrong when he’d done so much planning?

Where the fuck was this in his list of possible threats? How had he considered some kind of sophisticated emergency response team and not the chance that Steve could be…?

Not that this was a threat, exactly, but… but what the fuck?

“What the fuck are you doing?” Dustin returns, instantly, mindlessly, still facing away. Except they all know exactly what they were doing, and Dustin can’t even be disappointed that he’s not seeing Steve’s incredulous expression now that he’s finally triggered it, because he really doesn’t think he can look at him right now. 

It’s possible he may never be able to look at him ever again, actually, just out of embarrassment and sheer mortification. And that’s if Steve even wants to see him again, because he’s beginning to respect that he may have made a mistake here, even if it still absolutely isn’t his fault.

Maybe if that door wasn’t so heavy it wouldn’t have blocked out the sound so much, and he’d have known not to, um… He doesn’t really want to think about the fact that he opened the door, actually, because then it’s like he brought this sight upon himself, and…

And, like, obviously this was all Steve’s fault, right?

Dustin’s no longer so confident about that one, but…

“It’s morning!” Dustin yelps, which possibly isn’t quite as strong a defense as he intended, but his face is flaming red and he’s still sort of trapped frozen in his escape from the doorway, resolutely staring away from the bedroom.

He absolutely does not think about any noises coming from behind him, even if they’re probably just getting dressed, because he’s already heard far too much. And maybe humans have too many senses, actually, they really didn’t need to be this aware, surely, and maybe it would be easier if he was, like, a mole, or something. Dustin’s pretty sure they’re blind, at least, and he can’t remember if they’re deaf, right now, but that was… preferable, right? He didn’t need-

“What the fuck does that mean?” Steve… it’s not quite a roar, exactly, but he’s definitely more towards the anger stage, at the moment, as is his default, as much as Steve hates that it is. Dustin could picture that line between his eyebrows, if he was willing to picture Steve at all, at the moment, and - “I don’t remember hiring you as a fucking alarm clock.”

Which is… not great, and Dustin maybe winces a little, but he’s not a mole, or moles aren’t totally deaf, because there’s a kind of hushed noise like someone - a certain someone - was trying to calm Steve, and that’s… less not good?

“I’m sorry!” Dustin insists, because that was… probably a better start, and he remembers suddenly that he actually isn’t supposed to be here and he did just walk in unannounced and it’s maybe… less cool than he’d been hoping. Very uncool, if he’s honest, but he didn’t… 

It’s not his fault, right?

It’s not the stupidest thing he’s ever done.

“It’s morning!” He defends again, but it still doesn’t sound particularly convincing, and he continues, “I didn’t think-”

“Clearly,” Steve cuts in, and Dustin definitely flinches this time, at the edge in his tone, but it - it’s not his fault. 

“Well how the fuck was I supposed to know?!” Dustin explodes, managing to address the hallway more directly this time, since he’s not doing this in a twisted knot in the doorway. “I didn’t think - I didn’t know - I thought this kind of thing only happened in the - fucking - in the dark under the covers-”

“Behind closed doors?” Steve inputs, fierce, and Dustin cringes again. 

“I didn’t - I - how the fuck was I supposed to know?” Then, more forcefully, “I didn’t even know that you were-”

“And what’s it to you?” Steve snaps.

“Nothing!” Dustin replies. Shoulders dropping, fight lessening, he stumbles, “I don’t - it’s not - I wouldn’t… I just didn’t know.” He breathes, tries to collect himself. “I’m sorry.”

Which is a better defense, at least.

Steve sighs heavily, but it’s not him who responds.

“Are you alright?” Eddie asks, genuinely.

Dustin, still struggling to wrap his head around it all, considers, “I... I don’t know.”

It’s just the shock, really. He hadn’t expected it, he hadn’t the slightest idea that he should expect it, and he really just did not want to see either of them in that kind of position, let alone with each other.

Not that it’s worse that it’s with each other, just, like, for him, it’s… he doesn’t want to see that. They’re… 

He can’t believe he just… 

“I’m sorry,” He tries again, maybe a little shaky, now. 

Because he… maybe he fucked up, and beyond not wanting to see that he also wasn’t supposed to see that, and he… he thinks maybe it’s not fair to them that he just… 

Because he wasn’t supposed to know, was he?

Steve sighs, again, but it’s not as heavy. “You can turn around, you know.”

Dustin tenses, does not move. “I… I think I’m good, thanks.”

But there’s that edge of exasperation, and, “We’re not - we’re decent.”

He hesitates, turns back towards the room, slowly, but makes sure his eyes are firmly closed.

Because he’s made mistakes, okay, but he’s going to be extra careful about making any others. He’s… you know he actually thinks he can remember something about a species of cave-dwelling fish that don’t have eyes at all, never did, maybe he can be one of those? He’s just gotta keep afloat and… oh, no, that’s not how fish work, is it? Um, he just has to keep moving and try not to drown?

Bit dramatic, maybe. Uh, head down, don’t fight the current and avoid predators?

Did you call it a head, with a fish? But then surely they didn’t have a neck, so where did the body start? Wait, how did you avoid predators when you didn’t have eyes? And what was the predator in this situation? 

Actually, you know what, maybe the eyeless thing would just make his hearing too good, and-

There’s a huff of laughter, not unkind, then, “Dustin.”

He’s maybe startled into opening his eyes, then, and he’s not in a cave, although that would be pretty cool, probably, but Steve’s room is… admittedly he doesn’t really get to see any of it, because his eyes lock onto Steve and Eddie without his permission, and just the sight of them, the reminder, is too much. 

“Oh, God,” He complains, spinning back around immediately. He hadn’t let the door fully close in the first place, standing in the open doorway, so he catches hold of it as he moves, bracing himself between the edge and the frame. His eyes are tightly shut again.

“Sorry,” He offers. “I can’t-” He’d make a flippant hand gesture if he could loosen his grip. “It’s just - it’s weird, alright, it’s not-”

“Would it help if I told you we were wrestling?” Eddie extends, unable to hide the slight note of amusement in his tone.

Good, Dustin thinks, at least one of them can enjoy this.

Still, his noses wrinkles a little, unseen, and he responds, near immediately, “I don’t think that’s any less gay.”

That’s definitely amusement, behind him, and Steve almost snorts as he amends, “It definitely could’ve been gayer.”

“Please don’t,” Dustin begs, his hands clutching all the more securely as he tenses again. “I can’t…”

He wants to say that it’s too soon, but also he can’t really imagine a time when it wouldn’t be, and, like, is he overreacting? He doesn’t want them to think it’s the gay part he has an issue with, so he amends, quickly, “It would be fine. If I hadn’t seen it. I just…”

There’s a beat, and then-

“Henderson, get in here.” Steve sounds… better? That’s not a smile, in his voice, but it’s getting there.

So Dustin steps back a little, lets his arms fall, and actually watches as the door covers his view of the hallway. He presses closer to it again to hear the soft click it utters, and it’s not as satisfying as the one downstairs from when he’d entered, but it… it feels less dangerous?

“You think you can actually look at us this time?” Eddie teases. 

Dustin shakes his head, but his breath of laughter is a little less incredulous than he would’ve managed before. Still, he tells the door, “You know, I actually… I kind of already fulfilled my quota, for, like, maybe even the year? At least this month, probably, so, sorry about that.”

“Oh yeah?” Eddie asks. “You missing the rest of the campaign, then?”

Shit.

Dustin pauses. “I… was thinking about my character completing the rest of it in a blindfold?”

“Mmhmm?”

“Yeah.” Dustin confirms. He totally has this, he can absolutely improvise. “Just… for added challenge, you know? I really… I mean I’m so good at fighting I figured it would give the others a chance to start pulling their weight, you know? And could… enhance my other senses?”

“That so?”

“It’s… also you know how pirates might have worn eyepatches below deck to help to improve their night vision? It’s like that, except I figure the - the double eyepatch, that’ll surely be double the help, right? Really sharpen the… the vision? So I should… I should also do that, for the… immersion. In solidarity.”

“You’re going to go to Hellfire wearing two eyepatches?” Steve clarifies, and that’s definitely a smile, now. Dustin’s gone too far to back down from this, however.

“Yes,” Dustin announces, perhaps not as confidently as he intended, or maybe entirely too confidently, it was difficult to tell. “Or… or like those dark glasses, like a three blind mice kinda deal? Maybe with… with the sort of sides, that block out your peripherals? Really - really focus on the… action.” 

“So are you narrowing down your field of vision or cutting it off completely?” And, yeah, okay, maybe that did get away from him a little.

He winces, barrels on regardless. “Um… I hear that it’s not until you’re truly blind that you’re finally able to see?”

There’s outright laughter behind him, absolutely at his expense, then, “Henderson.”

He sighs, faces them, but tilts his head immediately towards the ceiling, fixing his gaze there. 

“Almost.” Steve praises.

“A little lower.” Eddie prompts. 

“I… are you sure?” Dustin delays. “I’ve always thought you were… kinda tall.”

Steve laughs again, says, “Dustin,” and alright so apparently that’s a weakness, he’s going to have to work on hearing that from them without snapping to attention, because his eyes drop immediately and land on…

“What the fuck,” Dustin blurts, but it’s less panicked, this time, closer to awe than horror. 

So he definitely hadn’t been paying attention before, it turns out?

It’s just Steve and Eddie, sitting in bed together - which is weird, right, it’s still weird - but they’re clothed, and they’re… trying a bit too hard to look harmless, maybe, and it’s…

Alright, maybe it’s a little bit of horror, but more the surreal kind.

Steve’s wearing a black band tee that Dustin only knows says Black Sabbath because he’s squinted at it before for long moments trying to decipher the letters, and Eddie’s wearing an equally familiar yellow sweater. He’s pretty sure they’ve done it on purpose, throwing on the other’s shirt to give him something else to focus on, and it’s a funny image, honestly, but also…

Also it just sort of instantly acknowledges, yeah, you know what, something’s different, here. And it’s strange, seeing them in a way he hasn’t, before, a way that doesn’t quite fit with what he knows of them - seriously, Eddie in yellow feels unnatural, here - but it’s nice, too, that it’s recognisable even where it’s not. 

And it’s a reminder that the two of them are… close, yeah, but sharing clothes doesn’t make Dustin think of… you know. It feels softer, somehow. Like they haven’t just scrambled to make things look normal - they’d had time to fix it, if this was a mistake. They’re just… he’s looking at them, now.

His gaze still skitters across from them, obviously, it’s still a little difficult to stare at them, right this second, but he doesn’t look up or behind himself, this time, so it’s progress, at least. 

He’s maybe smiling, a bit, as he huffs and points out, “Your hair’s a mess.”

It’s said to Steve, since it’s much more obvious when his hair decides to stick up at odd angles, but he does sort of bail halfway through and inform the window, too. Dustin thinks that’s okay.

“Yes,” Steve agrees, with a pointed kind of head tilt. “Can’t imagine why.”

Dustin blushes, and Eddie sort of shoves at Steve and rolls his eyes. Steve grins and lets him.

“Ignore him,” Eddie recommends, even as he easily turns to run a quick hand through Steve’s hair and make the mess less obvious. Dustin genuinely didn’t think Steve let anyone else touch it, but he apparently accepts that motion without protest too. Maybe it’s an Eddie thing. 

Eddie continues, “He wouldn’t be such a bitch if you’d waited another five minutes.”

“Ten,” Steve corrects, a little wistfully.

“Sure,” Eddie says, but it sounds challenging, eyebrows raised like he’s just humoring him. “You’d absolutely have made it ten.”

Steve’s jaw drops a little, not offended but… interested, almost, daring, ready to pose a challenge of his own. Dustin… still does not want to be here.

He clears his throat, perhaps pointedly, and asks, “Is the floor safe?”

They turn back to him in confusion. “What?”

“I just…” He gestures, vaguely, not really sure what the movement signifies himself. “I don’t want to sit anywhere that you’ve…”

He thinks he’d prefer for them to be embarrassed, but instead Steve eyes him, seems to make a decision quickly, and smirks as he advises, “I’d move away from the door, then.”

Dustin yelps as he leaps away before he can waste a second figuring out whether or not that claim was serious, glares as he realizes what’s happened.

Eddie throws a hand in Steve’s face this time, gently making him duck out of the way, laughing. 

Dustin notices the desk chair, glances towards it and narrows his eyes, looks back towards the pair with the question in his eyes. 

Steve angles his head and sucks in a breath as if he’s about to counsel against it, but Eddie smiles and shakes his head at Steve, remarks, slyly, “Oh, you don’t want that ten minutes?”

Turning back to Dustin, he states, honestly, “The chair is completely untainted.”

“I don’t know,” Steve amends, still refusing to be serious. “It’s seen some things.”

Bluntly, Dustin dismisses, “So have I,” which seems to chastise him.

He’s maybe still a little cautious as he crosses the room to the chair, simultaneously wanting to be alert to anything else that might surprise him while also not wanting the chance of noticing. It’s already, like, way more information than he’d wanted, especially all at once, but if he’s tense it’s… 

He’s still a bit uncomfortable, and shaken, and there’ll be a lot of guilt there, later, but it’s not, like, fear, now. They’re not going to scream at him and never talk to him again. He fucked up, but, but it might even be funny one day?

Probably not right now, for him, but.

The seat’s one of those spinny things on wheels, so he drags it out and maybe throws himself at it a little too dramatically, pushing himself further from the bed again with a quick foot pressed to the bed frame to propel himself back. 

Steve sends him a look for his shoes having touched the sheets, but Dustin just returns one, unmoved. The sheets, apparently, have seen much worse. Dustin quickly dismisses that line of thinking, lets his arms rest on the arms of the chair, fingers tapping slightly. 

“So,” He comments, and absolutely does not have a follow-up.

“I hear you’ve seen some things?” Steve prompts.

Dustin glares at him. He responds, looking elsewhere, “Nope. I actually… I gave that up?” He shrugs. “Heard it’s bad for you. I… obviously I blacked out for a minute there, anyway, so I… I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“But you’re alright?” Steve presses, and oh, okay, so things were definitely going to be fine, then. Concern over frustration was good.

“...I’ve been more traumatized,” Dustin offers, as honest as he can make it, and Steve nods a little, satisfied.

“That’s something, sure, I’ll take that.”

“I’m not sure that’s saying much,” Eddie considers, still eyeing Dustin a little worriedly.

“I…” Dustin spins in his chair a little, finds the movement helps. “I mean I’m fine with you being… whatever this is.”

And look at that, he’s doing great, he’s not even making assumptions here, they can totally be proud of him later.

Steve blinks, like he hadn’t expected the confusion over their status, or perhaps like he’s just realized he hadn’t actually defined it himself. He looks at Eddie as he answers, frowning a little as he considers, “We’re… dating?”

Eddie raises his eyebrows, looks amused and unhelpful. “Are we?” He returns.

“...Yes?” Steve asks. Shakes it off, states, more strongly, “No, we are.” He turns back to Dustin. “We’re dating.”

“Are you sure?” Dustin checks, skeptical. “Because I’m not a kid, you can admit if it’s just, um…”

He doesn’t actually want to finish that sentence, but Eddie does so anyway, still amused as he fills in, “Sex?”

“Physical,” Dustin corrects, because that’s an acceptable term, he can happily use that one.

“No, it’s,” Steve fumbles again. “I mean yes, but, also, you know…”

“Do I?” Eddie smirks. “It’s what, Steven?”

Trying to look unimpressed, but at least genuinely scowling a little at the name, Steve announces, “Obviously I like you, Edward.” But it’s the pleased kind of displeased as he adds, “God knows why.”

“Probably best to keep him out of it,” Eddie contributes, and Steve shoves him too, gently.

Still feeling more than a little out of the loop, and finding it difficult to process the scene in front of him, Dustin utters, “So you’re, like…?”

Eddie smiles at him, encouragingly, and informs him, easily, “You can ask, Henderson. Whatever you want.”

It’s still hard to feel like it’s allowed, but Dustin, pressing forward, because if he could break into a house he could absolutely pose a question, bluntly says, “You’re gay? This isn’t just some, I don’t know, fooling around thing to pass the time and make up for the fact that Steve’s otherwise chronically single?”

“Sorry,” Steve protests, ignored, “Eddie was just as single, why is it always me?”

“For the record,” Eddie smiles, “Fooling around would be just as gay. But yeah, I’m gay,” He clarifies. “Steve’s bi.”

“Oh,” Dustin stops spinning for a moment just to process. “Like boys and girls?”

“Yeah,” Steve confirms, comfortably. “Specifically Eddie, at the moment.”

Naturally, Eddie teases, “I mean, it’s against my better judgment, but, I guess Steve wants me, so.”

Unfazed, Steve shoots back, “Mm, sure, and who seduced who, here?”

“Um, I’ll remind you which of us stripped half-naked and bit the head off a bat.” Eddie looks at him like the answer is obvious. “You did this.”

This time Dustin feels like he shouldn’t ask because he feels like he’s interrupting, is still very aware that he wasn’t meant to be here, but he perseveres, because he’s genuinely curious, “How long, um…?”

“Not long,” Steve openly admits. “It’s still pretty new.”

“Like a few weeks, maybe?” Eddie adds, looking at Steve like he’s verifying that. Steve reacts with something between a nod and a shrug, and Dustin…

What he should have asked, maybe, was, ‘And you’re already this comfortable together?’, because that was mostly what he meant. 

He’d had all these half-formed ideas in his head, over the last few minutes. He was full of rapidly considered possibilities for all the times he’d seen them and they’d been hiding this from him, sudden examinings of past interactions for signs he could’ve missed, and a lot of them were being torn up and set on fire in front of him. A few weeks?

But also, because he really did think this kind of thing only happened in the dark with the lights off, that this was something you gradually worked towards in a relationship, a milestone that determined that things were serious, that’s not quite the shock that spills out.

“And you’re already having sex?!” Dustin blurts, maybe too loudly, as Steve startles, apparently not expecting that.

“Uh…”

“Wow, Henderson,” Eddie quips, clearly trying not to laugh. “You invite yourself into Steve’s home and slut-shame him in his own bedroom?”

Which, okay, so Dustin’s blushing again now, but that’s what makes Steve regain his composure.

“No, actually, let’s get to that,” He decides, straightening up a bit to look at Dustin more sternly. “How did you even get in?”

“Ah,” Dustin hesitates, briefly biting his lip as he considers how best to delay this part. “Are you sure you don’t want to address the-?”

Steve dismisses him instantly with, “I can sleep with whoever I want, and there’s nothing slutty about having sex with my own boyfriend. How did you get here?”

But, see, Dustin can work with that. “The… door?” He tries.

“Before that,” Steve narrows his eyes.

“The… there’s a corridor?”

“Don’t tell me,” Eddie gasps. “You climbed the stairs, too?”

Dustin nods, starts tapping his fingers against the arms of the chair again. “You know, it sounds like you already have a good idea, so.”

“Dustin.” Steve says, flatly, and damn why did he have to notice that?

He sighs, squirms a little, refuses eye contact again, and replies, “My mom dropped me off on her way to work?”

“Okay,” Steve considers, since they’re making progress. “We’ll return to that. How did you get into the house? Did you climb through a window, or?”

“No,” Dustin frowns. “Why? Do you leave the windows open? That’s really unsafe, Steve, anyone could get in.”

And he hadn’t considered Steve’s windows, actually, and it’s maybe much less dignified to shimmy through a window anyway, but that was something else to note for the future, surely. 

“Evidently,” Steve deadpans. “Dustin.”

“I used the front door,” He confesses, and honestly he’d always expected this to be a proud thing, but now he’s not sure how cool it is, after all, and what if Steve changed the code to the alarm after this, just in case. He wanted to at least feel cool enough that he could switch off an alarm.

Or on, even, if Steve let him. He could pretend he was the one prepping the maze of lasers, turning out the lights and activating the security system before settling down for the night, daring anyone to try to get past it. Well, jokes on any intruders, because-

“It was locked,” Steve stresses.

Which is when Eddie finally makes the connection. 

“You didn’t,” He realizes, accusing, but apparently unable to look properly disapproving. There’s a smile forming on his face, and huh, look at that, this was a proud thing after all.

Dustin ducks his head, bashful, digs the toe of his shoe into the carpet and spins the chair a little. “It took me a while,” He reveals.

Eddie laughs. “Clearly not that long, dude, it’s still early. Well done.”

Steve, bewildered but knowing enough to be suspicious, demands, “What’s happening here?”

Without the slightest amount of shame in his voice, Dustin happily explains, “Eddie taught me how to pick locks.”

Steve makes possibly his most interesting facial reaction yet, rapidly cycling through incredulity to resignation to a more challenging kind of disdain, not at all surprised but definitely unimpressed. 

Which is a shame, really, because it definitely is impressive. It has to be, even Eddie thinks so.

“And you thought this was a good idea where?” Steve poses to Eddie, flat.

“It, look,” Eddie sits up a little. “The kid’s always getting into trouble anyway, it might be a valuable life skill one day.” He implores, almost sincerely, eyes wide and innocent, “What would you do if he ends up trapped in a room somewhere one day because I didn’t teach him the ropes? You want me to live with that guilt?”

Dustin’s honestly contemplating taking notes on effective ways to reason with Steve, when Steve, unmoved, says, “What are you going to do when he ends up breaking into people’s houses? Oh, wait.”

“I didn’t break anything, Steve.” Dustin finally gets to announce. Except the look Steve gives him is less exasperation and more ‘I will kill you.’ Steve turns back to Eddie, pressing.

“So, what, you gave him a… a bobby pin, or…?”

“No,” Eddie answers, like that was a ridiculous question. “What is this, a movie? I gave him a lock pick.”

“It’s really cool, Steve.” Dustin chimes in, because he actually is excited about it, and he’s not one hundred percent sure how legal that is either, because it feels like it probably shouldn’t be, but if so then it was a gift from Eddie so obviously it’s just a decorative item and he had no idea what it’s meant for, officer, he can’t even remember where he found it.

He adds, “Eddie says I should try with other items too, though, ‘cause I might not always have the lock pick with me.”

Which seemed unlikely, because it probably wouldn’t be leaving Dustin’s backpack, but maybe some kind of hair pin was a good suggestion, actually. Or, ooo, what about a paperclip? 

“Did he?” Steve still doesn’t seem to appreciate how cool this is, so Dustin pipes up.

“What if I get kidnapped one day, and this is the only way I can escape?” He argues.

“You’d be more trouble than you’re worth, they’d let you go within the hour.” Which, rude.

Dustin, not one to be dissuaded, defends, “Well what if I decide to become an escapologist, and this is the first step towards that career? You don’t want me to become the next Houdini?”

Though, admittedly, Dustin had no interest in being locked upside down underwater, he thinks that might be taking the risk part a little too far.

“I’m happy to let you try to escape a straitjacket,” Steve replies. And that wasn’t serious, obviously, but Dustin thinks that might even be fun. He could definitely escape a straitjacket, it can’t be that hard. The lack of collarbones was probably an advantage, right?

But where was he going to get a straitjacket?

“I’ve got handcuffs, if you want to escape those,” Eddie puts forward, and that one is serious, and the opportunities are filing in rapidly. 

A radiator feels like an obvious choice, but also if he’s going to get trapped that’s probably a mistake, and he doesn’t have to be handcuffed to something but he thinks that’s probably more dramatic, and-

And Steve seems to be realizing opportunities, too, because “You do?” comes out with a little too much intrigue, and Eddie smirks as he replies, “Down, boy,” and Dustin remembers suddenly that he doesn’t want to be here.

Rapidly getting back on track, he states, “What if I lose my house keys, and-”

“I get the point, man.” Except Steve seems less annoyed about it, at least, so that’s good?

“I won’t teach him how to hotwire a car,” Eddie promises, placating, and, like, Dustin can’t help it if he deflates a little.

“Are you sure?” He begins. “Because what if there’s an invasion and I need to commandeer a vehicle to get away?”

“What?” Eddie laughs.

“Or,” Dustin will not be defeated so quickly. “Or what if there’s a zombie uprising and I need to flatten them in my path? I’d last longer in car, even if I have to pilfer gas from-”

“Dude,” Steve interrupts.

“You’d have us to drive for you,” Eddie assures, softening the blow. But…

“...I don’t know,” Dustin hedges, “You kind of have a track record for being bitten.”

“Well-”

Dustin addresses the room more widely, as he considers, “And Eddie’s already practically undead, after the bats-”

“I’m not a vampire,” Eddie contributes, not for the first time.

“And Steve’s always going to be a risk for throwing himself headfirst at danger, he’d absolutely sacrifice himself too-”

“I-”

“And it turns out you might even like it,” Dustin concludes, meeting Steve’s eyes.

“Danger?” Steve guesses, confused. “I don’t-”

So Dustin lowers his eyes, slowly, pointedly, then regards Eddie, eyebrows raised. “Are you sure you’re not a vampire?” 

He’d been ignoring it, absolutely refusing to acknowledge it, actually, but the neckline of Steve’s - Eddie’s, whatever - shirt had lowered a little with Steve’s movements throughout the conversation, and there are definite marks there. 

He thought maybe Steve was a little old for hickeys, but then apparently he doesn’t know much of anything about how this kind of thing works, so.

Eddie figures out what Dustin means immediately, but Steve has to press a hand to the spot to confirm, finally looking embarrassed about this.

“He’s really more of a leech,” He mutters, pink.

Eddie laughs, “You know, it’s the flattery, I think-”

Steve shakes it off a little, defends, as though he can’t believe these are words that he’s saying,  “I, look, there’s a difference between Eddie and a zombie-”

“What if Eddie was a zombie?”

“True,” Eddie allows. “He raises a good point. What then, Steve?”

A little exasperated, a little amused, he insists, “As if I’d let you anywhere near- ”

“They move faster than you think, Steve.” Dustin admonishes, because he really shouldn’t be underestimating zombies, now, it was bad enough that he did that with Dustin.

“It sounds nice,” Eddie muses, “Being appreciated for my brains rather than-”

“Though really I’d be more at risk,” Dustin confesses. “Because-”

“Because you’re more likely to try to keep it as a pet?” Steve cuts in.

“I…” Wow. “I’m not that-”

“Yeah?” Steve firms. “How’s your cat, Dustin?” He very suddenly hears himself and hastens to correct, “Sorry, that was - sorry.”

Eddie winces, a little, but Dustin thinks it wasn’t wholly undeserved.

This isn’t the stupidest thing he’s ever done, he’s reminded.

He shakes his head, dismissing the need for an apology, and fixes it with a, “Just… you’d still help me survive the apocalypse, right?”

“Definitely,” Steve agrees. Then, instantly, “But you’re still not learning how to hotwire a car.”

Dustin thinks that’s maybe a little unreasonable, but Eddie smiles and easily negotiates, “I’ll teach you how to crack a safe, don’t worry.”

“Really?” Dustin exclaims, possibly even a little high-pitched in excitement. He was going to have to get a mask, and some gloves - maybe even the fancy black leather ones - and really that was just advanced lockpicking, surely, so he could- there’d be nothing he couldn’t open, soon. 

Except maybe, like, jars, but they screwed those lids on really tightly, and-

Holy shit, but he was going to be so cool. Steve better appreciate how cool Eddie was, this shouldn’t be wasted on him.

“How…?” Steve seems a little stunned, actually, so that’s probably something.

Eddie, smooth, admits, “Oh, babe, you don’t know nearly all my secret talents yet.”

But there’s something about Steve’s expression that’s a little… So Dustin, unimpressed, repeats Eddie’s, “Down, boy.”

Eddie laughs outright, shocked and delighted, and Dustin gets the feeling that Steve’s going to blame him for that later. 

“So, anyway,” Steve clears his throat, regains his composure, somewhat, before blinking in sudden realization. “Wait, why are you here?”

Dustin shrugs, looks at the floor again. “I don’t know,” He says, casually, “Knew it was your day off, I just-”

Steve sighs. “Was it the arcade or the pool?”

He should be offended, perhaps, but that… that was probably a fair assumption. Still, honest, he mumbles, “No, just, I don’t know. I wanted to see if you wanted to hang out or something?”

“Ohhh,” Eddie comprehends, smiling a little teasingly. “So you missed him?” He nods. “Understandable, Steve’s very-”

“No,” Dustin grits, because he’s been embarrassed enough, hasn’t he? “I just…” He fumbles for something to say, finally settles on, “I needed a lamp.”

Which wasn’t as strong an excuse as he’d intended, probably, but they all look towards Steve’s lamp, and…

And had Dustin not been embarrassed enough? How was this fair? 

He’d done so much planning, he’d thought this entire thing through, but-

“Oh God,” He mourns, too mortified to even spin the chair back around. “Are you-?”

Because there’s boxers hanging from the lampshade, and he doesn’t know whose underwear it is, doesn’t want to know, but does that mean the floor wasn’t safe after all? Have there been other clothes strewn around all along? Does that mean, this entire time, they hadn’t actually been dressed?

Dustin’s face goes so red he might actually hate them. He takes it all back, things aren’t going to be fine, it’s not okay, he may never have been more traumatized.

Steve and Eddie just lose it laughing, leaning on each other a little, and Dustin’s glad that they have a firm hold of the covers, at least, hiking it up higher over their waists for good measure, but he can’t-

He cannot believe-

Dustin firmly turns his back to them, burying his face in his hands, and regrets everything.

Behind him, breathless with laughter, Steve promises, “I’ll - I’ll buy you one.”

And yeah, okay. Maybe he could consider it a success after all.

He’d totally planned for this, you know.

And if, later, Steve threatens to see him to the door, and Dustin runs before Steve can make the move to leave the bed, then that was a totally sensible response, and Dustin couldn’t possibly have been less dramatic and just faced away to wait for Steve to get appropriately dressed. 

And if, in his hastened escape, his shoulder clips a frame that then immediately abandons the wall and crashes to the floor in a shower of glass, then really it just couldn’t have been secured properly, and there was really no need for the wood to splinter like that on impact.

It wasn’t a very nice picture, anyway, though Dustin does appreciate that it has the decency to make its fall more interesting to witness. 

Steve and Eddie won’t let him anywhere near the damage, which is frankly ridiculous, since he’s the only one wearing shoes, but the good news is that the corner of Steve’s mouth twitches before he sighs.

The important thing to remember here is that the term was ‘breaking and entering’, so Dustin doesn’t think it could possibly count if it happens after he entered. 

But, yeah, alright. 

Maybe he can share the blame with Steve for that one.

Chapter Text

“Steve,” Dustin announces, before the door to Family Video can even swing closed behind him. “I need you to give me a lift on Friday.”

Robin, at the counter, points lazily with a pen towards the Horror section, where Steve is apparently busy restocking shelves. His head emerges around the side of an aisle, his arms laden with a stack of tapes. 

Steve frowns, regardless, so he definitely heard. Dustin’s been told that hearing him has never been the issue.

“Can’t,” Steve replies, not even apologetically, maybe even a little dismissively as he returns his attention to the shelves. “I have a date.”

There’s no one else in the store, at least, Dustin once again making his appearance early, but he does quickly confirm this before insisting, factually, “You can’t, Eddie’s got band practice.”

Robin, apparently overhearing, challenges, “What, and they’re not both allowed to be busy at the same time?”

“What?” Dustin returns, confused, because did that mean… Robin had to know, right? She was Steve’s best friend, surely she knew…

“Oh,” Steve realizes, smiling quickly at Robin for her attempt to cover for him. “No,” He assures. “Henderson knows.”

“Wh- you do?” Robin fumbles, almost drops her pen. “Why didn’t I know about this?”

“It was a harrowing experience,” Dustin answers.

“Didn’t want to relive it,” Steve agrees, slotting another tape into its correct position. Dustin follows him easily around the store as he continues to work.

“What?” Robin doesn’t seem to understand, yet.

Steve informs her, “He walked in on us while-”

“No!” Dustin jumps in, alert. “No descriptions, thank you, seeing it was quite enough.”

Steve looks a little bemused, like he hadn’t been about to describe it at all, actually, but Dustin doesn’t take risks, nowadays. He’s absolutely learned that it’s better to be safe than sorry, which is of course why he’s harassing Steve in person about this, anyway, because phone lines can be tapped.

“Oh, my God,” Robin realizes, somewhere between horror and amusement, which is funny, because Dustin and Steve are about to enter the Comedy section, now. Or maybe that wasn’t that funny. “You-”

“Steve didn’t set the alarm,” Dustin dutifully declares, like he’s letting Robin in on Steve’s mistakes, almost condescending. “It was his fault.”

Steve raises his eyebrows at Dustin. “It’s my fault that you saw a locked door as a suggestion and invited yourself into my bedroom?”

“It wasn’t a suggestion,” Dustin dismisses, picking up one of the tapes in front of him and examining it. “It was a challenge.” He looks at Steve, sternly. “And don’t word it like that, it’s gross.” He turns towards the counter. “Robin, did you know people could have sex in the morning?”

Because really, that still might be one of the most shocking things about this whole thing. Was that really what everyone else did, too, or were Steve and Eddie just weird? 

For that, obviously, not the… the gay part.

Dustin returns the tape to the shelf, smiles innocently when Steve glares at him for placing it in the wrong spot.

“Uh,” Robin’s eyes are wide, “I mean-”

“Ignore him,” Steve suggests, easily, while pointedly correcting the position of Dustin’s tape. “I’m not driving you anywhere, dude.”

It takes Dustin a second to notice that the last part was addressed to him, because, what, was that a no?

After all Dustin had been through? Through no fault but Steve’s? 

And maybe Eddie’s, also. But he was going to teach Dustin how to crack a safe, so.

“But Eddie’s busy, so you’re not,” He repeats, because that’s just basic logic, and really, shouldn’t Steve know this? What kind of boyfriend was he? Wait. “Unless-”

“No.” Steve tells him, and yeah, alright, that was a stupid thought, sorry. “He does have band practice,” He confirms. “But then he’s coming to mine for dinner. I’m cooking.”

Dustin narrows his eyes. “You can’t cook.”

Steve, exasperated but not offended, returns, “I’ve never cooked for you, how would you know?”

He’s running out of tapes, and Dustin thinks that maybe once his hands are free and he has to give Dustin his full attention… 

“It’s a vibe.” Though, to be honest, Steve seems to have been looking after himself for years, so maybe that isn’t true. Uncaring, Dustin pushes, “So you should decide not to poison yourselves and just pick something up after you come to collect me from-”

Except Robin calls, “Let them have their romantic evening, Henderson,” as Steve finally shelves the last of his tapes and makes his way back to the counter. She’s smiling as they approach. “It’s cute. I’ve never seen Dingus so excited for a date before.”

Steve blushes a little as he tucks himself back behind the counter, and… alright, it is nice that he’s happy, but…

“Yes, well,” Steve clears his throat, straightens some papers and tries to look completely unflustered. “Just reschedule whatever you wanted picking up from,” He suggests to Dustin. “I can drive you on Saturday.” He pauses, corrects, still a little pink, “Sunday.”

Robin shoots him a look, amused.

“I can’t.” Dustin protests.

Steve exhales heavily as he determines, “Well I’m not-”

“It’s therapy,” Dustin states.

Steve stops. “...Oh fuck you,” He slumps, runs a hand through his hair like he’s trying to figure out how he can make this work, but Robin frowns.

“I thought you were just all hanging out in the Wheelers’ basement?”

“What?” Steve’s gaze shoots straight to her, then, accusing, at Dustin. He straightens.

“That’s…” Dustin looks at the ground, toes at a peeling piece of the carpet. “I mean, that’s therapy?”

“Oh fuck you,” Steve acknowledges, but he doesn’t look angry, more relieved, pleased that he doesn’t have to cancel his plans. Sure enough, “Absolutely not,” He declares, stronger than before. “Make your own way home.”

“But-”

“You have a bike,” Steve picks up a clipboard, either an actual to-do list or a clear dismissal. “I’m not your chauffeur.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Robin mutters, but she seems proud that Steve stood his ground. Dustin would have to work on that, Steve might be easier alone.

“Fine,” He gives up, knowing when he’s beaten. “Enjoy date night or whatever,” He grumbles, as he steps back from the counter.

“I intend to,” Steve smiles, and it doesn’t even sound dirty, he’s just… he’s content.

Which is unacceptable, because Dustin’s supposed to leave chaos in his wake, now. 

A little devious, a parting victory, Dustin reminds him, as he shoves his hands into his pockets and makes to leave, “Don’t forget about the alarm.” 

“Oh my God,” Steve’s voice sounds from behind him, alert immediately. “Do not bike to my house.” 

Dustin smirks, does not turn around, waves over his shoulder as he approaches the door. 

“Wh- Henderson! That’s not a challenge, it’s a warning!”

“Bi, Steve!” He cheers. Which is, for the record, now the only way he’ll say farewell to Steve, a little joke no one else will ever notice. 

Robin’s laughter follows him out of the store.

Dustin doesn’t crash date night, but he would like it known that he rattled Steve so much that Eddie had made him sign a written agreement that he’d be nowhere near the Harrington residence on the night in question, nor would he arrange or agree to anyone or anything else being present.

He thinks he’d maybe spooked them a little bit when he’d started asking questions about surveillance, too, not long after The Incident, but he really had just been interested in Steve’s cameras. It’s not like he wanted to watch them. They’d already established that he’d seen too much. 

But, like, the opportunities. He might actually like to try avoiding them, next time. If he can just figure out their exact locations and viewpoints, he can figure out the most effective camouflage, or the best avoidance techniques, or if he can master the perfect roll which ends with him back on his feet in a crouched position…  

Because no one can see you when you move that quickly and that close to the ground, right?

He was standing for a lot of the time, on his last attempt, and honestly maybe that was partly what doomed him. A crouched man was more tense and ready for action, right?

Still, he didn’t want to watch anything but himself on the cameras, not even, like… actually, he’d also be interested in using them to watch the nightlife, maybe Steve would capture footage of a raccoon or something. Or an owl! There must be all sorts of cool animals outside that he didn’t usually get to see, maybe it could even be like some sort of nature documentary. Dustin liked those.

He’d be disappointed that Eddie and Steve were suspicious of his intentions but then they are aware that Suzie can hack, so, maybe it was fair to be overly cautious. Dustin could respect that they were finally considering all possibilities now. Look at that, he’d taught them something, they’d finally stopped underestimating him.

Except that’s not quite true, because the next time he strolls into Family Video, Steve is alone. 

He’d planned it that way.

Not that he had control of the schedule, just… he knew things, alright. People. He had his ways.

He may have just overheard Steve talking about a solo shift, since Keith had finally acknowledged that Wednesdays were always a quiet night for them, but that was still a valid method. He had ears everywhere.

Not eyes, though. He was done with the eyes thing.

It’s not quite dark when he enters the store, since he’s not really supposed to be biking around alone in the middle of the night, but it’s… like, it will be dark soon. And the store’s just as empty as he expected, because he’d planned this, obviously, so it’s suitably mysterious, right?

He looks over his shoulder as he enters, having to turn around a little more than usual because the hood of his jacket is a little too big for him, as is the jacket itself, but it’s… It’s the image, alright?

He’s wearing black, even if his jeans have admittedly already faded a little more into gray, but besides the hood he has the zip of his jacket closed all the way up to the top, too, and his hands are buried deep in his pockets, so it’s totally, like, the look of someone dangerous and meaning business.

And, again, maybe it’s kinda big on him, but there’s this one patch sewn onto the arm, high up on the sleeve like what would be near his shoulder if it fit properly, and it’s this really badass skull, and - okay, so it’s Eddie’s jacket, maybe he borrowed it from Eddie, but it’s warm and it sort of smells like cigarettes and Steve’s cologne and like, he was allowed to be comfortable, right?

He’s not going for the criminal vibe, today, just, like, a shifty character. Eddie said he doesn’t mind his clothes being used for that, he kind of enjoys the suspicion, so it’s okay. Not that Eddie knows what Dustin’s doing, right now, but even so.

Steve doesn’t even look up, as he enters, which, that wasn’t great customer service, surely, but he startles quickly as Dustin leans across the counter and asks, low, “Do you have microphones in here?”

Immediately confused, and eyes darting over the jacket in recognition, his eyebrows furrowing a little at the raised hood, Steve stutters, “What? No.”

“So there’s no audio recording going on right now?” Dustin presses a little closer, stares intensely, maintains the ridiculous attempt to sound solemn and deep. “No one can overhear this or play it back?”

Because seriously. There were ears. Everywhere. Was it so wrong that Dustin was prepared for these things?

Steve, who had recoiled a little instinctively, alert and cautious, sighs and resigns himself to his fate. “Oh for fuck’s sake, what is it now?”

“Look,” Dustin starts, bracing himself against the counter, now. He gets the impression from Steve’s face that he really isn’t finding that any more encouraging, isn’t any less wary. Still,  “Steve.” He levels, meeting his eyes. 

There’s a dramatic pause, because he’s wearing Eddie’s jacket and that’s what Eddie would do. Steve should appreciate the things that Eddie would do; that’s just rational, here.

Satisfied that Steve is suitably listening, if apparently unsuitably skeptical so far, he cuts to the chase.

“I really think you should let me rent an 18-rated movie.”

There’s not even a second of hesitation.

“Yeah, no, that’s a no,” Steve scoffs, relaxing. He turns to the computer, probably not actually to do anything productive, but because he always seems to turn away when he’s trying to dismiss something Dustin does as ridiculous.

Which… this absolutely wasn’t ridiculous, he’d given the matter serious consideration, Steve. He’d borrowed Eddie’s jacket and everything. 

“But, see,” Dustin had absolutely been expecting it to be a no, at first, so he may or may not already have an argument prepared, here. “I’ve already seen 18-rated stuff,” He states, which has been true for a while, but was now also true in more relevant ways. 

When Steve doesn’t react, he adds, “Arguably it was over 18, because I don’t even think they show that kind of thing in movies.”

He cannot confirm, nor does he want to, but that sounds about right.

Steve is unmoved. “All the more reason for me to protect you from ever being exposed to it again,” He claims. “You should keep what’s left of your innocence.”

Dustin huffs. “I, look.”

“Mmhmm?”

“I don’t think it’s fair that I should know more about gay sex than regular-” He pauses, corrects, “Normal?” Winces, “Uh - than the type of sex I would actually be interested in having.”

Great save, he was doing fine.

“I really don’t think you saw that much,” Steve replies, but he’s definitely wavering, at least a little. He’s not even pretending to type. That’s maybe guilt, but… 

Encouraged, Dustin insists, “I saw more of gay sex than I’ve ever seen of straight sex, and what if it,” He hesitates, improvises the next part, “I mean what if it messes me up?”

Except Steve looks almost disappointed, so that’s probably not his finest work. “It’s not going to turn you gay, Henderson.”

“Obviously,” Dustin accepts, gestures. “Not that that in itself is a problem, I just can’t see it, personally. But what if…” He tries again. “What if it affects me, like, physically?”

And he’d call that a mistake, too, except Steve seems even more mortified than he is. “Oh my God,” Steve exclaims, with feeling. He’s about ten seconds away from burying his face in his hands, and Dustin has no choice but to double down.

“It, right,” He fumbles. “What if the image never leaves my head? What then? What if I can never-?”

“I’m sure it’ll help if you stop talking about it,” Steve recommends, embarrassed, more of a plea than a rejection.

“But that’s not how it works, though,” Dustin declares. “And like, you should be letting me replace that image with other images, because it’s not like you want me to think about it either.”

He wishes he was holding something, so he could point with it meaningfully, but he reckons he’s doing better. Steve, meanwhile, eyes him consideringly.

“This is a really interesting blackmail approach you’re going for, you know.”

And oh, no, that’s not… 

“I’m not…” He leans closer again, quietly but firmly assures, “I’m never going to tell anyone, or anything, it’s not like that. You don’t have to. I just… Do I not have a point?”

And Steve sighs, but he’s still not budging yet. 

“Dude, if you actually can’t…” Steve shakes his head, cringes, “Do anything without thinking about it, then by all means, talk to your doctor about it. Maybe an actual therapist, or - hell, talk to Eddie, ‘cause that doesn’t sound very straight,” He proposes, mostly joking by the end. 

Dustin opens his mouth to complain, but Steve shakes his head, continues.

“But you’ll get over it,” He reassures, decisively turning back to the screen. “I have.”

But then, maybe Dustin doesn’t quite know when to quit. Not always. So he stops thinking, takes a risk.

“Sure,” He dismisses, “By getting under Eddie-”

“Woah!” Steve looks at him sharply.

“Or on top of, or beside, or whatever you want to do,” Dustin waves a hand, like that was the part Steve took objection to. “But there’s no equivalent here, Steve,” He persists, not giving Steve the chance to speak up. “And my girlfriend’s a Mormon, you know. Eventually, people will notice if I can’t get it up.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Steve breathes, but he finally ducks his head, runs his hands over his face, and yes. 

Dustin grins before Steve can even say the words.

“Okay,” He caves, lists, after brief consideration. “Okay, I will let you rent Fast Times, and only Fast Times. On my account, because I’m not getting fired for this.” Dustin opens his mouth and Steve waves him off. “It’s take it or leave it. I don’t want a thank you, I don’t wanna hear how it goes, I honestly don’t want to hear anything in reference to your dick ever again.”

“That’s mutual,” Dustin agrees, feeling smug.

“Great,” Steve rushes. “Fine. And please don’t try to talk me into getting you porn again, I feel like I’ve corrupted you enough.”

Dustin nods, actually thinks that’s fair, and tries to savor the win.

Steve won’t give him the movie yet, since actually handing it to him in the middle of the store seems like an obvious and reckless mistake, but Dustin can accept that level of foresight. Steve’s never really given him reason to believe he’s not a man of his word, but even if he backs down later, this is the furthest he’s ever gotten. 

Smug, hands back in his pockets, he can’t help but ask before he leaves, “Do you think I’d have had better luck with Eddie?”

Steve, though sighing again, actually seems to consider it. “Fuck, maybe,” He admits. “But only because the idea of even getting the straight shit would amuse him.”

Dustin nods, notes, “I’ll bear that in mind,” and Steve just seems disappointed to have been played so easily.

“Fuck off before I realise this is the stupidest thing I’ve ever agreed to.”

But just before Dustin can reach the door, he requests, “Call me to let me know you got home safe.”

Dustin smiles, acknowledges that this is definitely another victory. “Bi, Steve.”

Steve rolls his eyes, exasperated. “Yes, Dustin.”

Dustin grins. Alright, so maybe someone else had noticed that joke.

He’s not even going to lie, he rides that high for a while.

It just figures that it’s not long until something decides to knock him down a peg. 

It had felt like a good idea, you know, at the time. He’d thought it through, and he’d considered the possibilities, but…

“But why the fuck am I the one being targeted?” Dustin explodes, frustrated. 

“Obviously,” Erica mocks, ready, “Because you’re the weak point here. You’re the only idiot bumbling about in a blindfold that you wasted two entire turns to make and put on.”

Dustin huffs, sinks back a little, because it’s… she’s not wrong, but-

“Seriously, though,” Mike complains. “You couldn’t even have worn a sword too?”

“That would be dangerous!” Dustin defends. “I can’t swing a weapon when I can’t see!”

“Then you’re useless to me,” Erica responds, drily.

“Hey, no-” Will tries to help.

“I might have killed one of you!” Dustin insists, passionate.

“Unlikely,” Erica returns.

And, okay, so maybe he’d overestimated his character’s fighting ability, especially when he couldn’t see what was coming towards him, but, like, surely the fate of the entire campaign couldn’t rely on him. 

He’d been joking.

And at the very least Eddie could-

Eddie hums, agrees with Erica, “I think you’re more of a threat to yourself.”

His fingers are steepled beneath his chin, and he looks far too amused as he sits back and watches them argue. Dustin may actually be offended.

“Alright, but,” Dustin flounders. “One of you can come save me, right?”

“I say we just cut off the dead weight,” Erica volunteers, uncaring.

“I’m too far away,” Will offers, genuinely apologetic, as they examine the board.

“Maybe if you hadn’t just charged in before we could even assess the situation-” Mike challenges.

“I said it wasn’t a trap!” Dustin insists. “This wasn’t a trap, it was just-”

“A mistake,” Erica interrupts. “Unless, sorry, did you mean to wander into the middle of a-?”

“How was I supposed to know they were already fighting?” Dustin presses.

“You could have listened,” Mike answers. “I’m not getting myself killed for you.”

“Wh- but the party,” Dustin gapes. 

“You don’t even have a weapon,” Mike reiterates.

Will winces. “You could always try to reason with them?” He offers.

Dustin huffs, considers. “Alright, what if-?”

“No,” Eddie states.

“Well, what if-?”

“No,” Eddie repeats, smiling.

“I didn’t even say anything!”

Eddie smirks.

“What would you recommend?” Dustin asks him, defeated.

“Can’t help you, you make your own decisions, I’m just here with the consequences.” 

Which is, like everything else being said to Dustin, not necessarily untrue, but definitely unfair. 

It turns out, however, that the only thing worse than Eddie refusing to give advice is him actively choosing to offer it, because not long afterwards, when Dustin is backed against a wall by two thugs, he happily chimes in.

“Maybe if you blindfolded yourself too,” He suggests, still enjoying this too much to be reasonable. “For the immersion. In solidarity.”

And was that level of smug really fair? Dustin would never do that to him.

So Dustin makes it out alive, in the end, but his escape involves ripping off the blindfold and attempting some kind of distraction technique with a torch which does ultimately help them to win but also results in his character being temporarily blinded by ash, so, go figure.

Later, listening to Dustin complain about it, Eddie just smiles and tells him, “Maybe you should have respected the closed door.”

And… and it’s not like he hadn’t made some sort of connection there, but he didn’t realize…

Holy shit, but it was a trap, wasn’t it?

As Dustin’s jaw drops, shocked, Eddie continues, “And I thought you’d know better than to play with fire.”

And, like, it hadn’t been a perfect metaphor, but… but this is the coolest way Dustin’s ever been taught anything.

He absolutely brought this on himself, didn’t he?

Defeated by overconfidence and a refusal to respect privacy. Damn.

And here he thought his only weakness was having functioning eyes.

He’s never going to get a victory against Eddie, is he?

“Does Steve know you’re this cool?” He blurts, stunned.

Eddie laughs, winks at him smoothly. Dustin doesn’t know if he’ll ever be able to live up to this level.

Maybe it was the leather jacket he needed. There had to be some secret, right?

He thought he was done with uncovering secrets, but.

He bets Eddie would even know what to do with that comic under his bed. He might even ask him.

“You did good, man,” Eddie extends, genuine. “Everyone got out of there relatively unharmed, right?”

“Yeah,” Dustin replies, still a little out of it. He’s not entirely sure what they’re referring to anymore, but Eddie basically just complimented him, so he has no choice but to accept this. “Yeah, we did.”

Eddie smiles, nods, shrugs his hands into his pockets. 

Dustin thinks that’ll be the end of it.

Yet before he leaves, with the game packed away and most of them already filtering out, Eddie calls Dustin back with a quick, “Oh, and Henderson?”

“Yeah?” Dustin responds, and apparently he has another weakness too. 

Eddie leans in close, speaks low and directly to his ear, “Stop harassing my boyfriend at work.”

So it turns out he needs to stop underestimating Eddie? That’s a definite… that was a flaw, admittedly. 

Apparently he couldn’t take advantage of Steve being alone, because he wasn’t alone anymore.

Dustin acknowledges that he should probably run it past Eddie the next time he decides to break into Steve’s house.

He thinks maybe he should just give up on being cool entirely, because he knows suddenly and with absolute certainty that he’ll always be outranked.

The smile as Eddie pulls away is fond but still somehow dangerous, and he adds, once Dustin has suitably processed the chastisement, “First lesson is next week.”

“F- what?” Dustin frowns. What else could he possibly have to learn?

Eddie just quirks his eyebrows. “Thought you wanted to try your hand at safes? You’re in luck, you won’t even need to use your eyes.”

And if, the next time Steve comes to pick him up, he spends the entire car journey gushing about how Steve had better appreciate what he has, how they’re not ever allowed to break up, how he loves Steve but he needs to make an effort if he wants to be as admired as Eddie, then, well.

It’s not the stupidest thing he’s ever done.