Chapter Text
Steve had been waiting at the furthest picnic table from the town park for nearly half an hour. He was about to give up and leave when he heard a van pull into the parking lot. He watched and laughed quietly as the driver tumbled out of the front seat, making his way over to the table Steve was sitting at.
“I was starting to think you don’t wanna see me, Munson.” The so-called mall fire had only been a week ago and the bruises on Steve’s face were slowly healing but still made his smile a bit lopsided.
Eddie seemed a bit jumpy, either from the more public setting or from selling to Steve for the first time. “Ah, my apologies. Didn’t mean to keep King Steve waiting on little old me.” He sat down across from Steve, setting his lunch box to the side. He gave Steve a quick look over, then glanced back at the small metal lunchbox. “I mostly brought weed, but I’m guessing you’re wanting something to help with the pain.”
“I’m all good on painkillers, I’ve already got stuff for this.” Steve gestured to his face “Who knew a mall fire could leave bruises?” He laughed a little at a joke that only he had the context to, not that Eddie minded much.
“You were in the mall fire?” He asked, his interest suddenly piqued. “You worked there, didn’t you?”
Steve nodded “If there’s one good thing that comes from the whole thing it’s that I don’t have to wear that stupid uniform again.” He sighed, shaking his head “That thing was the bane of my existence, and the hat hid my best quality!”
“I’ve heard rumors of this uniform. Were the shorts really that short?” Eddie covered his mouth as he whispered to him, as if the length of Steve’s shorts was the biggest secret he needed to keep.
Steve could only groan as he remembered, “God, yes they were. Tight as hell too! I could barely move. I’m almost entirely convinced that they got my uniform mixed up with someone else’s on the first day. I’m pretty sure that was more traumatizing than anything else that happened at that mall.”
“What a shame, if only I had gotten the chance to see it.” Eddie smiled at him, propping his chin up on his palm. “But if anything can help with trauma, it's a good high.”
Steve glanced down the table at the metal lunchbox, as if only just remembering it was there. “Yeah? Think some weed can help with the shit I saw?” He looked back at Eddie, meeting his eyes. It was a genuine question; he wanted to know if it could help him.
“Yeah, it definitely does. The high makes everything easier, especially while it's all fresh.” Eddie shrugged a bit, patting the lunchbox affectionately. “If you don’t mind me asking, are you worried about nightmares?”
Steve tensed up a bit but nodded “Yeah. It’s not for me, but that’s a big concern. Is this gonna make it worse?”
“It might, but it entirely depends on the person, but more often than not people say that they either don’t or can’t remember the dream.” Eddie pulled out a couple of pre-rolled joints in a little bag. “I try to stick around for a person’s first high if I’m too worried about it going badly. The person you’re wanting to give this to, were they also in the fire?”
Steve nodded, looking over the joints set out on the table. “Yeah, they were. But I’m making sure that I’m the one giving it to them so they’re in a controlled and safe environment for it.” He reached out and gently held the joints. “But smoking is unhealthy, do you sell edibles?”
Eddie couldn’t help but bark out a sharp laugh. “You seem like a concerned mother, Harrington!” he smiled, putting the joints back in the lunchbox. “Yeah, I can. It might take a day or two, and it’ll cost you more.”
Steve rolled his eyes, “Oh shut up Munson. I’m not a mother, I just care about other people’s health and well-being.” He pouted a bit, glancing away. “Could I just get the weed and make it myself? Pot brownies can’t be that hard, right? I make brownies all the time, I’ll just add it in like I do zucchini.”
Eddie looked at Steve as if he were insane. “You put zucchini in brownies? Are you insane? Are you the devil?” he asked dramatically, seeming as horrified as if he had just been told that Steve tortured and murdered children for fun. He had finally gotten more comfortable around Steve, seeming more like the theatrical person Steve remembered from school. “I can just give you the weed, but it won’t work out as well. If you want to wait until tonight, I can make you the weed butter then you can do whatever you want with it”
“I make sure that my kids get good amounts of vegetables in them, thank you very much.” Steve crossed his arms, narrowing his eyes at Eddie. “Zucchini is healthy, it helps with heart health, and eyesight, and has lots of nutrients!”
“Zucchini is gross and disgusting, but Steve Harrington having kids? And I thought you said you weren’t a mother.” Eddie looked up at Steve, obviously hoping for more information.
Steve wasn’t going to give it to him. “Sorry Munson, I’m not here to tell my whole life story, I’m here to buy weed butter, apparently. I didn’t know you could make butter from weed.”
“You don’t make butter from it, just make butter with it” he sighed, a bit disappointed “Well, if that’s all you’re wanting, I should probably head out.” Eddie started to collect himself, standing up with his lunch box. Steve did the same, albeit much slower.
“How should I get this butter from you? The park closes at ten so if you’re wanting to meet here it’ll be a bit trickier, depending on how much later you’re talking.” Steve dusted himself off a bit, stepping away from the table and making his way over to Eddie, leaning against the table next to him.
“It'll probably be around eleven tonight. Think you can handle risking a cop scolding you for being at the park a little late? If not, I’ve got other places.”
“That works for me. Should I pay you now or later?” Steve stood up a little, being gentle with his probably broken ribs.
“I’ll let you pay half now. How much butter are you wanting?” Eddie asked, taking out a little notepad and pen.
“Probably half a cup of butter, but this is for someone’s first time getting high so do I need to use half normal butter and half weed butter or something?”
Eddie scribbled in his notepad quickly, shaking his head. “I just won’t make it too strong. Let’s say fifteen now, fifteen later?”
Steve nodded, pulling out his wallet, “That works for me. I’ll see you around eleven, then?” He pulled out fifteen dollars in cash, a ten and five ones, folded them up, and offered them to Eddie.
Eddie took the change, counting it out to make sure before stuffing it in his back pocket. Steve finally took a few seconds to look Eddie over, then pulled his keys out and started walking towards his car. “Your shoe’s untied, Munson. Don’t trip.”
Later that evening, Steve went out for his nightly jog. Everything was normal, he just moved it back a couple of hours for reasons he wouldn’t disclose to anyone that might possibly be law enforcement. He left his house a little before ten and started the four-mile jog to the park. Once he reached the park, he walked a cool-down lap around the park and stretched out his muscles, trying to be mindful of his ribs. The bruising splattered across his chest could be seen through the sides of the old basketball shirt he cut into a muscle shirt.
It was safe to assume that Eddie couldn’t see all the bruises from the distance when he whistled at Steve. “Looking good there, Harrington. Keeping up all those basketball muscles?” he called, making his way over to the same table the two met at earlier in the day.
“Can’t risk losing the figure that all the girls used to swoon after.” Steve stopped at the water fountain before making his way over to the table.
“Used to? Are you having trouble finding a date?” Eddie asked, setting a shopping bag on the table as he sat down.
Steve sat down across from him, the same arrangement as before. “More of I fell for a girl and she turned out to be lesbian.” he gave a sigh, “But hey, I’ve still got my hair so a date can’t be too far, right?” he joked, already reaching for his wallet.
“Lesbian? I thought that Hawkins had tried to run out all the gays already, who is it?” He asked, eyes lighting up with curiosity.
Steve just shook his head at him. “No way, Munson. That’s definitely not something for me to tell.” Steve’s face got serious “I would never tell anyone that.”
Eddie quickly put his hands up in surrender, leaning back in his seat. “Relax, Stevie. I was just curious. Good move though, outing someone could destroy their life; especially here.” After another moment of quiet caution and Steve relaxing again, Eddie put his elbows back on the table, resting his chin in his intertwined hands. “So, half a cup of butter, right?”
Steve nodded, glancing over to the bag. “And you’re sure it’s not too strong?” He watched carefully as Eddie grabbed the bag, pulling it over and pulling out a mason jar of butter.
“Yep, baking a couple of tablespoons of this into a batch of brownies should make a brownie about the equivalent of two or three puffs on a joint.” He passed the jar over to Steve. “Don’t worry too much, Mama Bear. I promise I didn’t poison it.”
Steve nodded, looking the jar over before setting it down a bit closer to himself. “We’ll have to see if you were right about this helping with trauma.” He stood up from the table, passing the money over to Eddie. “Thanks for getting this for me, Munson.”
Eddie slid the change into his pocket, grabbed the paper bag, and crumpled it up, tossing it into the trash. “Don’t mention it. Just let me know when you run out and I’ll cook up another batch for you, alright?”
With an awkward goodbye, Eddie walked off into the night and headed through the darkness to his van. Steve started jogging back to his house, hoping that no one would see him and wonder why he was jogging in the middle of the night with a jar of butter.