Work Text:
May 1989
Sitting alone on the WSQK rooftop, Steve shoved his hands into the pockets of his coffee-colored suit and watched his three friends drive away in the dusky light. In the distance, cicadas hummed their familiar chorus which bled through the expectant tranquillity now that the dust had settled and Hawkins had almost returned to normal. Framed by shades of coral and crimson in the candyfloss sky, the radio tower glinted in the last shimmer of the sunset. Despite being a memento of how close he had come to slipping off the platform to his death and seeing fear flood Dustin’s eyes, this was still Steve's favorite place in Hawkins. As their cars pulled away and left him alone, he slumped down on the metal patio chair and took a final swig of beer, letting the bottle slip from his fingers. They all knew that would be the last time they would see each other in a very long time, despite their naïve promises to meet regularly. They were adults now, with real lives, jobs and mundane responsibilities that were pulling them apart now the world no longer needed saving.
The beer bottle - the same brand he’d drunk with Eddie thirty-eight months ago, just before their initial plan to stop Vecna had failed - rattled and drizzled the last of its contents as it rolled, finally coming to a stop when it hit the roof’s edge. It had been over three years since they'd returned from the Upside Down without Eddie. Even though Steve had told - implored - him and Dustin to stick to the plan and not to be heroes, that had been the last time they’d spoken, when Eddie told Steve to make Vecna pay but had said so much more with his eyes.
And he did make him pay.
They all did.
They made him pay for what had been lost and for who had been taken from them.
At least he thought they had.
If only he'd thought of a better plan.
Dustin hadn't needed to tell Steve about Eddie’s sacrifice, the moment they reunited, he knew Eddie was gone. His heart flipped as his vision blurred, and he barely made it to a toilet before he emptied the contents of his stomach, blaming it on a reaction to the precautionary antibiotics. He could still see the look in Dustin's eyes as clear as that day, and if he was honest with himself, it was the real reason why Steve refused to look at his friend.
He didn’t want to see the grave, or be reminded of it. It was just easier to be angry at Dustin so they didn't have to admit it was true.
Still the memories would repeat like a stuck song on one of Robin's broken records. Even though he tried his best to blow it away, grief would cling in the grooves of his thoughts like dust.
Sometimes it would return when he found a Black Sabbath or Metallica tape in the WSQK archives, and sometimes it came when he smelled that particular mix of tobacco and leather.
Sometimes it was for no reason at all other than his brain needed to remind him that there was something - someone - missing.
Every time it made a tear prickle at the corner of Steve's eyes.
He would always wipe it away quickly before Robin could notice. If she did, he'd dismiss it as a fleck of stray dust from the WSQK radio station cassettes.
But in the evenings, when he was alone and the blue hour bled into scarlet skies, that's when it haunted him. That's when the tears flowed and regret stung like his wounds had back then. Although now faded, the scars still decorated his torso as a memorial of his failures and cowardice, just like the ache in his heart that refused to fade.
So Steve filled the emptiness with facsimiles, just so he didn't have to be alone, but nothing could fill the hollow void that had been left inside him. All this time he'd been treading water and the string of forgettable dates were just temporary lifebuoys filled with false promises that hissed through rips in the material and reminded him of what he almost had.
Once Jonathan had called him selfish for wanting to help Nancy and Steve had let him believe it. That had been easier than explaining the truth.
The truth was, he didn't want him to know that he wanted to see Nancy to tell her he didn't blame her for choosing Jonathan and thank her for helping him realise they were only ever meant to be friends.
That was before Jonathan had saved his life.
Before they were all back in the Upside Down together, looking for the impossible.
Back then, Steve had wanted to comfort Dustin, tell him he understood the pain, the sorrow, and the regret he saw in his face. Say he was sorry.
But by the time shock and confusion had given way to grief, it was too late. Hawkins had moved on and had begun healing, and he'd gone back to feeling shame - shame for how he felt and shame for never telling anyone.
And Dustin had pushed himself away, dealing with Eddie's loss in his own way, by wrapping himself in impenetrable walls of anger, pushing everyone away and putting himself in danger just to feel something - anything.
Steve was angry too.
Angry that Dustin had been there. Angry that he had not.
Angry that Eddie had died for nothing.
Angry he’d died without saying goodbye - before Steve had found the courage to tell Eddie what he'd been afraid to say at Rick's boathouse.
November 1987
As Dustin searched the Hawkins lab basement in vain, Steve waited patiently, without gloating, without saying it had been a waste of time, and now Dustin was calling him selfish. The final piece of his thinning resolve finally cracked like Hawkins had eighteen months ago. But there were no steel plates that could heal his invisible wound.
“Me? Selfish? You wanna talk about selfish?” Steve said, his voice calm and barely raised despite the flurry of emotions and memories that had been unexpectedly returned since they'd returned to this godforsaken hellhole. “How about when we finally reach Hop and El, we promptly ditch them to pursue this bullshit theory of yours? Not to mention, you’re the reason that we lost contact with them because of your no-show at the crawl. So this whole mess is actually your fault. And I haven’t heard so much as a sorry.”
The words fell from his lips like rotting leaves and hit Dustin like a low punch to the stomach. It didn't mean he hadn't been relieved when Dustin appeared as they’d waited for the WSQK van to charge, even though his face was a mess and he'd lied about how he'd got his injuries. It didn't mean Steve wasn't sorry too, he just wasn't ready to admit what he was sorry for.
Dustin flinched. Strike one.
“Shit. Again, it’s not like I just didn’t show up. I was attacked.”
The teenager’s defence was a weak one as far as Steve was concerned. He’d been trying to play the hero like Eddie. Defending his name despite the risks.
“No, you wanted a fight, and that’s what you got. Just look at your face. You’ve done some stupid shit in the past, but this?” he drew in a sharp breath at his own words. Did he really call one of the smartest kids - no, people - he knew stupid? If anyone in this room was stupid it was him, stupid for not being able to prevent Eddie from dying, stupid for not being there for Dustin when he needed him the most. “Man, this takes the cake.”
“You wanna talk about dumb shit?” Dustin yelled, pulling Steve from his thoughts. “How about chasing somebody else’s girlfriend while the world is ending?”
Not this again. Everyone always presumed the same thing. "Nancy is a friend. She’s a friend, okay? You remember what that’s like? Having friends?
“Yeah, I do. I remember what it was like to have a good friend, a real friend who actually believed in me, and who was actually kind to me.”
Strike two.
They'd always bickered like brothers, but this time it was different. Their words were loaded now, poison-tipped shards of glass intended to cut deeper than the wounds that still refused to heal.
“Aha! Aha!”
“What? What?”
“There we go. What this has all been about, really, is Eddie. All your bullshit, pushing everyone away, it’s because no one could ever be as perfect as he was.” Steve retorted triumphantly. He knew it was true because he was guilty of doing exactly the same thing - he'd not just pushed away Dustin, he'd pushed away everyone. Even Robin. He'd just let her assume the same as everyone else because he didn’t want to confront his grief or his shame.
Strike three.
“He wasn’t perfect, but at least he knew that, unlike you. He was never fake. He didn’t care what other people thought about him. He was just himself. And you know what? He was the smartest, kindest person I’ve ever met.” Dustin held up the Rubik's Cube like evidence of Steve's stupidity. “And he would’ve solved this in 30 seconds flat.”
Steve wanted to yell at Dustin, tell him he was wrong about the power source and wrong about Eddie. Not about being fake - Eddie was never that. And not about being smart or kind. He was both of those things, even when the whole town was against him.
Eddie was everything Steve was afraid to be.
Rebellious.
Fearless.
Authentic.
Eddie was perfect. And Steve still couldn't bring himself to admit it out loud. Instead he took the bait and made the final, low blow.
“If I’m such a goddamn idiot, how come I’m the one still standing here?’
Something in Dustin’s face shifted. Steve felt it immediately.
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
Instead of walking away like he should have, Steve spelled it out for Dustin even though it stung his throat to speak the words and his lip trembled. “That night… I told you not to be heroes. I told both of you. What did Eddie do? He charged into a swarm of killer bats.”
“To save my life.”
“He saved no one,” Steve replied, shaking his head even though he knew it was true.
Strike four hit the jackpot.
“He saved everyone!’ Dustin cried.
Steve could hear the quiver in his friend's voice then, even though he tried to disguise it. “You can keep telling yourself that. But deep down, the reason you’re so goddamn pissed is because you know the truth. Eddie wanted to play hero, and he made a dumb call, and he got himself killed.”
“SHUT UP!”
Before he could react, Dustin threw the discarded Rubik's Cube at his face and lunged towards him, shoving him against the wall in a hail of punches that landed on the tender scars on his ribs. Trying in vain to brace Dustin's arms while protecting himself from the blows - which were surprisingly vicious for a teenager - Steve pushed him away.
“What the hell, man? What are you doing? Stop it. Stop it!” Steve demanded, concerned that Dustin would hurt himself after taking the bait. As the boy slipped to the ground with a sickening crack, Steve felt bile burn the back of his throat. Had he hurt Dustin? Relief flooded his lungs briefly when he saw it was just the walkie-talkie antenna. He didn’t have any time to recover or think about how they’d contact Jonathan and Nancy or Hop and El now, as Dustin repeatedly smashed a wooden chess board against his legs as if he didn't care what broke first. “What are you doing? Calm down.”
But Steve's words only fanned the flames of Dustin's rage, and he slipped on the murky vine-covered floor again, manically throwing board game pieces and anything he could find in Steve's direction.
He didn't care about himself, Steve knew he deserved every single punch that landed, but he didn't want Dustin’s injuries on his conscience along with everything else.
It dawned on him then. They were the same.
Dustin had gone looking for a fight and so had he.
They both just wanted to feel something again.
“Hey, hey Henderson - HENDERSON! Jesus, you're going to hurt yourself man!”
But it was no good. Dustin Henderson charged towards Steve possessed with grief-filled rage - like he was a bull and Steve was the red flag, all he could do was wrap his arms around the both of them as they stumbled through the frame of a broken observation mirror and landed on the floor.
He had been wrong. They both had, but at least Dustin hadn't pushed his buttons just to get a reaction. Steve took a deep breath and prepared himself to say the words he'd refused to speak. I'm sorry. I get it. I know you don't think I do.
“Alright, Dustin…”
A hard slap cut his confession short, stung his cheek and he stood as Dustin lunged towards him again. Bracing his arms around the teenager's body, he pushed them back against the vine encrusted wall. “Enough, man. Enough. Enough - STOP!
Finally, they’d fallen into a crumpled heap, their chests heaving for air and faces wet with a mixture of sweat, tears and blood. Steve managed to pull himself to his feet and began to walk away. “You know what, man? I’m done. I’m done.”
“All right, yeah, just go and crawl back to Nance! You dumb, fake ASSHOLE!”
Dustin's bitter words rang through the empty room and into Steve's ears like a final death march, and as he reached the stairwell, his legs finally gave way. He slid down on the top step and gripped the cold metal of the rail between his fingers, avoiding the slimy, twisted vines that infected this world like a cancer.
He hated this place, hated how it had stained, corrupted and stolen the lives of so many he cared about, but more than that Steve hated himself. He shouldn't have walked away and left Dustin sobbing alone in there. Steve pulled himself up with the cold metal rail that leeched warmth from his hands and stepped back to the door frame, then stopped.
The room was empty and Dustin had disappeared.
Frustrated, he hit the door with his fist and the memory punched him back without warning.
Rick’s boathouse, Lover’s Lake.
March 23rd 1986
He didn't know how long he'd been hammering on the corrugated door to the boathouse in the middle of the night but it was long enough that Steve was ready to give up. Mottled with rust and patches of damp that he hadn't noticed earlier, like little multi-coloured constellations, the metal door rattled under the assault of his insistent knocks. Just as he was about to walk away, it unlocked from the inside and creaked open barely a crack.
“Harrington? I thought that was you.” Eddie's eyes were almost black in the low light, his face concealed in shadows. The tang of the lake and intoxicating scent of melted cheese filled the humid night air and clung to his senses like limpets.
Steve shrugged. “How did you know?” he flinched slightly as Eddie reached for his face.
“Ain't no one else around here with a silhouette like that,” Eddie smirked, daring to ruffle Steve's full head of hair. “Just kidding - I saw your Beamer pull in. If you're looking for Henderson, he's not here.”
“I'm not,” Steve replied, maybe too quickly. “I - I came to see you, man.”
Eddie's eyes narrowed and his brow knotted in confusion. “What the hell does King Steve want from a freak in the middle of the night?”
"Actually, I thought you might want some grown up company,” he held up the bags in his hands as a peace offering. “If not that, maybe some Dustin approved junk food and something more filling than cereal? I got pizza, and beers.”
“What topping?” he sniffed, leaning closer to the other man's body. Neither of them moved.
“Uh, Meat Feast and Hawaiian,” Steve replied tentatively. “Plus a couple of peanut butter Boppers to sweeten the deal.”
“A man of taste.” The door creaked open slowly, as if Steve had whispered abracadabra and Eddie yanked him through before locking the door behind him.
Within minutes they were eating warm slices of pizza in charcoal shadows, a small candle found in the cupboard and lit by Eddie’s lighter the only source of illumination. He hadn’t realised how hungry he was until now, now the adrenaline had worn off and his stomach rumbled in the quiet. Their bottles of beer tinkled against the concrete floor as they shuffled to make space on the tarp. “So remind me again why you brought me this food,” Eddie asked.
“I don't know, I guess I felt kinda bad,” Steve mumbled. His eyes had begun to adjust in the low light but he still couldn't quite make out much more the outline of Eddie's hair, and the glint of his eyes and teeth in the candlelight. He took a swig of the beer to clear his mouth and mind before continuing. “Bad for the way that this town had treated you and bad that in school I…” Steve took a deep breath. “A friend of Dustin's is a friend of mine. Sorry if I was a douche to you.”
Eddie blinked and placed the pizza slice back on the open box. Getting an apology from Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington had not been on his bingo card for this year but neither had been watching a cheerleader get her bones snapped and eyes sockets burned out while being stuck to the ceiling of his uncle's static trailer home. He held his bottle up to Steve, the glass shimmering in the candlelight. “Cheers, dude. Sorry I nearly stabbed you in the neck earlier. I guess it makes us even.”
“Yeah, I guess so.”
Their bottles clinked and Steve smiled thinly as they continued to eat in silence for a few minutes. Overcome by the addictive aroma of warm food and cool beers, the scent of mildew faded along with the lingering odour of tobacco that had permeated Eddie's leather jacket. He’d only smoked cigarettes occasionally, usually when drinking beers with Tommy and Carol as a clichéd front to seem rebellious and macho, but the truth was Steve had never really understood the appeal.
At least until now.
When Eddie had shoved him against the wall behind him a few hours ago while holding a knife to his neck, and Dustin had pleaded Steve's good intentions, the experience had woken up a feeling in him Steve had never felt before. He couldn't explain it, but he knew he wanted to feel it again.
Needed to.
The air between them suddenly felt heavy, as if it were charged by his thoughts and Steve shivered, despite them both wearing jackets.
“I'm thinking I shoulda brought some blankets too, this place is a dump and it's freezing,” he muttered, hiding the shiver of anticipation as a chill. “How the hell d’ya sleep in this place?” he looked over at Eddie when he huffed out a sarcastic huff “What?”
“So it is true what they say about you, Harrington you're allllll hair up there, ain't cha?” he quipped, playfully shoving Steve's shoulder, making him spill the last slice of pizza on his shirt and knocking the half-drunk bottle of beer which soaked through his jeans.
“Hey! Watch it,” he objected, his voice laced with annoyance at Eddie's perceived ungratefulness and his own slow reaction. Steve scrambled to his feet, brushing the congealed pieces of cheesy topping from his top. Even in the dark, he could see the patches of grease and tomato sauce on the fabric, and feel the embarrassingly large wet patch on the crotch of his stonewash 501’s. “What the hell, man? And what the hell’s that supposed to mean??
“It means even if I was hiding out in the Omni Hotel, I wouldn't be in the mood for sleeping,” Eddie retorted, looking up at Steve who had frozen on hearing Eddie's words. His voice trembled, and he looked down as he fidgeted with his silver rings. “Not since what happened to Chrissy. All I can see when I close my eyes is her, dude. Her face as she was in that trance, curse, whatever it was. The sound of her screams and bones as they snapped and cracked. I just ran away…”
As his voice broke on the last word, Steve crouched down to his knees, and he tentatively placed a comforting hand on Eddie's shoulder. “Hey. Hey,” he said softly, as Eddie's hands covered his face. “I'm sorry, man. I know I can be a bit oblivious. Even an insensitive prick sometimes. But we'll figure this out together somehow, get this Vecna, or whatever his name is, and clear your name.”
Eddie scoffed and met Steve’s gaze. At this close angle, he could see the candlelight reflecting in the other man's brown puppy-dog eyes and he didn't know if it was his imagination but he thought there was something in his gaze that wasn't just pity or remorse. “If you believe that, you're even dumber than I thought you were.”
“Whatever man,” Steve shrugged. “But it ain't just me on your side - Robin, Max and Nancy are helping you too. And Dustin, who is absolutely right about El’s Cerebro powers, she's just gotta get them back, somehow. And I bet she will.”
He nodded appreciatively. “So what do you bring to this arrangement? Are you like these kids’ bodyguard or something?” Eddie sniffed, wiping his face and then nose on the back of his hand.
Steve let out a small laugh and shook his head. “More like their babysitter.” Shifting slightly, uncomfortable with the wetness seeping through his jeans, he stood again. “I don't suppose you know if Rick left any spare clothes here? I'm not really sure if I want to spend the rest of the evening marinating in beer and it's too cold to sit here without any pants.”
“Let's go see what we can find to warm you up.”
After they'd blown out the candle and tip-toed from the boathouse around to the rear of the house, they gently closed the back door behind them with a soft snick.
Eddie pulled Steve by the arm through the kitchen until they reached the bottom of the stairs. “After you, pretty boy,” he teased, jutting his chin up to the landing on the second floor and pointing with his finger, the nail coated in chipped black varnish. “Unless you want me to lead you upstairs by the hand?”
“No, no. I've got it, thanks.”
Steve placed a foot on the first step, and tried to ignore that his pulse was racing. He's fought Tommy and Jonathan. Hell, he'd fought Demogorgons and Russian spies too, for god's sake. So why was the thought of holding a man's hand making his heart race?
Not any man's hand. Eddie's.
Still, he cautiously walked up the first few steps, then took two at a time when he thought he could feel Eddie's breath on the back of his neck.
“Bathroom's on the left, Harrington. Go clean up and I’ll go see if I can find something that'll fit you.”
Nodding, Steve entered, leaving the door open a crack out of habit and toed off his Nikes and sock. He flung his jacket on the closed toilet seat and paused as the sound of his belt buckle and his Levi's being unzipped echoed against the empty tiled walls, then slowly pulled the saturated denim down over his hips. The thick, damp fabric stuck to his skin, and he chucked them on a heap on the floor in disgust. The beer had soaked all the way through to his boxers to his skin, making it cold and tacky to the touch. “Dammit,” he muttered, peeling off the soaked thin cotton material and kicking them off his ankle onto the crumpled jeans pile.
It looked like he'd be going commando for the rest of the night.
He looked around the small, windowless bathroom, and in the shadows he made out the shape of a shower head built into the wall above the grimy olive green bathtub. Next to it, there was a basin in the same shade and Steve pulled the cord for the shaving light above it, making it flicker into life. Deciding the sink looked considerably cleaner than the bath, he decided a wash was probably the best option over a shower.
As he caught his reflection in the mirror, he subconsciously swept the hair from his face as he always did when he was nervous, and then the realisation he was naked from the waist down in a strangers bathroom suddenly hit him like a ton of bricks. “What the hell are you doing here, man? This is crazy. Just get out of here.” Steve whispered to himself, despite him tucking up his shirt over his belly button while he waited for the water to run hot from the faucet.
Finally, the warm water began to come through the rattling pipes, and Steve pushed the plug in the hole so the basin filled up and grabbed the remaining bottle of shower gel from the side of the bath. Tentatively he sniffed the lid - the scent wasn't one he would have chosen himself but it wasn't unpleasant, a mix of lavender and violet, but it was damn sight better than smelling like beer. It vaguely reminded him of one he'd used at Nancy's once. That seemed like a lifetime ago.
In the current situation, it would have to do.
Cupping handfuls of the scented foam, Steve massaged it onto his upper thighs and groin, rubbing away the remnants of the beer from his skin as the bottom hem of his shirt unravelled and landed on the top layer of bubbles that floated in the water, saturating the food stained fabric. “Shit,” he cursed as he pulled it over his head and flung it in the pile.
“Hey man, I think I found some clothes for ya.” Eddie's voice announced softly through the open door.
He was butt-naked and the only thing separating him and Eddie was an unlocked door. A door Eddie was pushing open.
Shit indeed.
“Jesus Christ! Do you know how to knock?”
The towel ring rattled furiously against the tiled wall as Steve instinctively yanked the wash cloth free, not caring if it was even clean, and placed it over his dick just as the door swung open.
“What the -”
Eddie's eyes widened like saucers but he barely had a chance to acknowledge Steve was completely naked because as he stepped backwards, Steve's feet became tangled in the pile of his wet clothing and sneakers on the linoleum flooring, and the back of his legs hit the bathtub.
“Shit!” His hands instinctively flew up so he could regain his balance, and at that point he realised he was completely exposed.
“Now I understand why half the girls in our year had a crush on ya, Harrington!” Eddie snorted as Steve’s shoulders slumped in resignation and embarrassment. He held up the pile of clothing and placed it on top of Steve’s jacket on the toilet. “For your modesty, big boy.”
Snatching the jeans from the pile of clean clothes, Steve kicked the pile at his feet out of the way into the corner and frowned. “You always walk in on people using the bathroom?” he muttered, his voice tinged with annoyance. He shook out the jeans and stepped into them, trying to ignore the feeling that Eddie was watching his every move.
“Only when they leave the door open,” Eddie retorted, leaning nonchalantly against the doorframe. “Anyway, why the hell d’ya take all your clothes off? I thought it was just your jeans that got -”
“Obviously not.”
Huffing, he pulled the jeans up to his hips and began to button the fly. They were a couple of sizes too big but would be fine once the attached belt was done up. When he looked up, Eddie was pulling his Hellfire raglan t-shirt over his head and dropped on the floor with his denim vest.
Steve blinked and took in the sight of the other man’s chest in the dim light of the shaver lamp. His skin was paler than Steve’s which was tanned from annual family vacations and sunbathing at the lake. In the flickering fluorescent light it was almost ethereal and ghostly-white. He could make out a few inky marks - indistinguishable tattoos - and a smattering of hair that trailed down from the man’s bellybutton to the waistband of his black jeans.
He wanted to touch it, feel it. Taste it.
Steve’s pulse whooshed embarrassingly loud in his ears, so hard he was sure Eddie could hear it.
No, this couldn’t be right. He wasn’t supposed to like black nail varnish and tattoos. And definitely not on men.
He liked boobs. And… and yet, he liked this.
It was then that Steve realised he was staring, and he cleared his throat.
“Uh, w-what are you doing?”
Eddie shrugged. “Making it even.”
“If it was even, you would be butt-naked,” Steve said without thinking, gesturing at the other man’s tight ripped jeans.
“You got it, man,”
“No, wait -”
It was too late. Eddie pushed his jeans and blue underwear down in one quick motion so they fell to his ankles and Steve involuntarily let out a small gasp as Eddie stepped out of the pile. “Better?”
“Yes, no - wait. I -” he stuttered, thankful he was now wearing jeans as an involuntary twinge shot straight to his dick and looked away, feeling his cheeks flush in embarrassment. “Thanks, but that's not necessary.”
Was King Steve blushing? Smirking, Eddie stepped over the threshold to take a better look and raised his eyebrows. “You must've seen the Hawkins basketball team naked in the locker room showers hundred times. What’s up, dude?”
I am. Steve thought. And they’re not you.
They were less than a foot apart now, just a few inches between them. There was no hiding, no escape. Steve had been backed into a corner and the only way out was through the door that Eddie was standing in front of, completely naked. He felt like a deer caught in the headlights and realised that he might as well put his cards on the table.
Double or nothin’.
“Have you ever…” he started, leaning against the basin with one hand while threaded his fingers through his hair with the other. “Thought you might be different?”
“Are you kidding? They all call me a freak -”
“-Not like that. Like…” Steve interrupted, then gulped thickly, his breathing suddenly shallow and laboured. “Like you might like things you think you shouldn’t?”
“Like illegal shit, or?...” Eddie frowned and his brain whirred with confusion while Steve looked down at his feet. And then the penny dropped. He placed his hand on the basin rim next to Steve’s, and gently tapped his fingertip with his own. “You mean guys, right? You think you might be gay?”
“No. NO,” he pointed defensively at Eddie who immediately withdrew. “I still like girls, I do. But I also think I might like…”
“Guys too? That’s cool man, I get it -”
“Not guys,” Steve said quickly. He swallowed. “Just… one.”
Eddie waited.
“You,” Steve finished, barely above a whisper.
This had to be a prank, right? Steve Harrington, who could have almost any girl he wanted, was saying he liked Eddie Munson, Hawkins’ most unwanted and resident outcast. It had to be a set up, it had to be. It would be just another excuse to get the shit beaten out of him. Even if Steve liked men, and that was a big if, he was way too popular to be interested in Eddie. They couldn't be any more different.
And yet something in his gut told him otherwise.
“Me? You taking the piss outta me, Harrington?”
“Forget it, if you’re gonna be a jerk about it, then just forget it.” Steve immediately regretted his show of vulnerability and moved to pass past Eddie but before he could, Eddie grabbed his arm. As if charged with static, the air suddenly crackled between them and the shaving light flickered again.
“You actually serious, dude?” Eddie’s grip was warm and it loosened slightly as their eyes made contact. “We barely know each other.”
Steve couldn't explain it.
Hell, he barely understood it himself.
But he knew what he felt, like they were opposite sides of the same coin. Negative and positive pulled together by an invisible force.
A couple of unstable elements waiting for a spark to create a reaction.
Two worlds colliding.
“I know that, but I can’t stop thinking about you. And I’d like to get to know you better. But if you aren’t -”
With that, Eddie shoved Steve again, this time more playfully, more tenderly, than before. Pressed against the cold bathroom wall next to the door by Eddie's decorated fingers against his firm chest, Steve held his breath in anticipation.
“Oh, I am,” Eddie finished in a whisper, his breath and scent lingering with Steve’s that looked at him through heavy eyelids and pupils darker than the midnight sky. He smirked and then leaned in. “How's this, big boy?”
Closing the gap between them, Eddie pressed an experimental kiss against Steve’s surprisingly smooth lips. He’d messed around with guys before, but they’d all been bikers or druggies, and a lot more aggressive and experienced, whereas Steve was gentler, passive, and his skin soft and shaved.
He pulled away, to gauge the reaction, feeling Steve’s pulse race like thunderclaps under his fingertips. Eddie had expected him to push him away, tell him he'd got it wrong or changed his mind, but he didn't.
Unable to speak, Steve just nodded. He couldn’t make a sound, let alone form a comprehensible word. That part of his brain had now short-circuited and dissolved into nothing. He barely managed to raise his hands to cup Eddie’s face whose soft, wavy hair tickled his fingers.
This whole thing felt new and alien, but somehow it felt right too, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
He took a deep breath, and returned the kiss to answer Eddie’s question, prove it was real, prove he was real.
The kiss deepened, slowly and tentatively. Together, they tasted like a mixture of beer, stale cigarettes and apprehension, and their breathing became faster, shallower, more desperate as tongues and hands urgently explored new territory.
Finally Eddie reluctantly pulled away, trying to catch his breath. “Jesus Christ, dude,” he gasped, seeing the longing reflected in Steve’s dark eyes. “You really weren’t yanking my chain, were you?”
“No,” Steve gasped, shaking his head.
Eddie took one of Steve’s hands that rested on his shoulders in his own and jutted his chin towards the door, towards the empty bedroom across the landing where he’d rummaged through the closet to find the spare clothes. “Do you want to…”
“Yes,” he replied, without hesitation for the first time since arriving. “Yes, I want to.”
Leading him by the hand, Eddie walked Steve from the bathroom to the bedroom next door, and closed the door behind them.
November 1987
As they moved through the Hawkins lab, Steve had a new sense of clarity and determination. He had a plan now. Focus. And that started with getting Nancy and Jonathan, and them all leaving the lab with Dustin to find El and Hop.
The only thing in his way was a melting stairwell. If this paid off, maybe Dustin would realise that Eddie wasn't the only one who could play a hero but unlike him, Steve wouldn't be a martyr.
Somewhere above them, the furious red ball of energy hummed and vibrated rattling through the building like it was made of matchsticks and was about to crumble into ruins.
Grabbing a ladder from the maintenance closet, he pushed past Dustin and placed on the gaping hole that was melting the steps he'd sat on a few minutes ago. It was a little unsteady but he should be fine. Should. For the 150lbs and the ten seconds it should take for him to make it over, it’d work. They'd figure out how to get back later.
“Steve, what the hell are you doing? That’s never gonna work. Stop! Stop! Steve, stop. I’m serious. It’s not safe. You’re gonna fall.”
He didn't even notice the desperate tug on his brown suede jacket until he had placed the ladder down. “It’s unstable, but I got it already, okay?”
“No - don’t! Stop being an asshole!” Dustin pulled him harder this time, with every ounce of his remaining strength, and Steve tumbled backwards, trying to keep his balance.
Not this again. He didn't have time for another fight. And how was he the asshole for trying to help others when Dustin had told him he was an asshole for waiting? He couldn't win either way.
“I’m not being an asshole. I’m trying to get to them!” Trying to do what Eddie did. Make you like me again, just how you used to.
He didn't need to. The fragile dam that they'd built between them from jealousy, denial and grief shattered like glass as Dustin grabbed Steve by the collar, then shook him as if he hoped it would shake some sense into his head. Sobbing uncontrollably, he couldn't hold back the flood of words.
“You always try to get yourself killed, and I can’t let it happen again. Stop being so selfish, please. If you go on there, you’re gonna die, and I can’t deal with it again. You can’t die ’cause I can’t deal with it again. Don’t let it happen again. Please. Please don’t let it happen again. Not you. I’m sorry.”
No, you shouldn't be the one apologising, Steve thought. It should be me. I’m the selfish one. And an asshole. He deserved everything except the friendship of the boy who was sobbing in his arms.
No, Dustin deserved better than him, but here he was begging for Steve to stop and find another way. Because he cared more about him than anyone else ever had.
“No, no, no,” he said softly into the top of Dustin's head, whose arms wrapped around his waist like his life depended on it.
Because it did.
You die, I die.
The memory of their conversation in the Russian elevator rattled in his memory like the ladder as the top step dissolved and it plummeted all the way to the basement.
March 27 1986
The vines had wrapped around Steve's ankle, pulling him back through the Watergate where the army of bats had punctured his skin with bites and stabs, strangling the life from his body until he could barely breathe. His sight blurred like a vignette photograph, dripping into black and white until suddenly he could taste the air in his lungs and the blood racing in his ears again.
It was Nancy, Robin and Eddie screaming, fighting his corner and the attacking bats. Steve couldn't remember seeing a more welcome sight despite the dire location and situation they were in. When the remaining creatures fled to lick their wounds, or call for reinforcements, he'd caught up to Eddie as they followed Nancy and Robin through the woods to the Wheeler home, after a brief break at Skull Rock where Nancy had wrapped his wounds.
Hostile air bit through the soaked denim vest Eddie had donated to him, almost sharp enough to distract him from the injuries in his side that angrily throbbed under the makeshift bandages.
That's when Eddie confessed two things;
One was his jealousy of Steve due his friendship with Dustin. It was a flattering revelation, but the next one hit Steve like a gut punch.
“Now, I don’t know what happened between you two, but if I were you, I would get her back,” Eddie said about Nancy, a little too casually for Steve's liking. “‘Cause that was as unambiguous a sign of true love as these cynical eyes have ever seen.”
For a moment, Steve had been too stunned to reply and he froze on the spot. It felt like Eddie had finished the bat’s work by ripping out his heart and stamping on it.
“What?” he seethed, muting his voice so as not to be heard by the two women ten feet ahead of them and grabbed Eddie's arm to pull him back. “The fuck’s that supposed to mean?”
Eddie stopped. “Just calling it as I see it, dude.”
“You thought I was a douche? You're a douche, not me!” Steve spat, loud enough to get a backwards glance from Robin. “You expect me to make up with Nancy after we just…” Steve took a deep breath and lowered his voice further. “Was it that bad?”
“No, you weren't bad.” Biting his bottom lip, Eddie's look softened.
It hadn't been bad at all. Far from it, in fact.
It had been an unexpected but welcomed distraction from all the murders and the angry mob that might as well have had pitchforks and stakes to burn him on.
But he wasn't an idiot.
He knew all too well what people's opinions were of those that deviated from societal norms. Especially sexually - the opinions in the local Hawkins Post had made that abundantly clear under the headings of the AIDS epidemic.
And Steve had just got swept up in the moment of needing to quell a curiosity.
At least that's what he'd thought.
Crossing his arms indignantly across his chest, Steve shrugged. “So why are you trying to get me back with Nancy then? Who, for your information, has a boyfriend who hates me, by the way.”
“Look, Steve, I get it,” Eddie replied, as they began walking again to avoid suspicion from their female companions. “You had to get some kind of curiosity out of your system. Hell knows we’ve all been there, one way or another. But you’ve always been popular, you don't know what it's like to be the town pariah, and I don't want you to. Everyone already hates me, I don't need to give them any more reasons. And I don't want to give them a reason to hate you.”
“Dustin doesn't hate you,” Steve said, stopping again. “And neither do I. And I don't need you to protect me. But if you’re scared of other people’s opinions or scared I'm gonna change my mind or whatever, then don't make an excuse, just say it instead of making up some bullshit about Nancy, because we've been over each other for a long time. If the whole of Hawkins hates you so much, we'll move to a new one that doesn't. Philadelphia or something.”
Eddie snorted a small laugh and then nodded in silence in a wordless exchange of understanding when he saw Steve was being serious. “Philadelphia?”
“Yeah. Or anywhere you want.”
“Are you guys coming?” Robin shouted, walking back towards them while trying to avoid the vines that spread over the dead terrain. “In case you've forgotten we need to find Nancy's guns before the army of super demobats come back and start biting more chunks out of us - you.”
“You heard the lady,” Eddie said, raising his voice so he could be heard by everyone. Gesturing for Steve to walk on ahead, he lowered his voice down to almost a whisper and leaned against Steve's ear for a second. “We’ll talk about it when this is all over.”
November 1987
This was the end.
Their final chance built on a flimsy plan of climbing a beanstalk into the giant's arid castle and its sepia skies.
It would be their last chance to save the world and could be the last chance to say their goodbyes. Steve prayed it would work, and prayed it wasn't a trap.
“Hey Dustin.” With a new found courage, Steve gripped the makeshift spear and took a deep breath. “Hey, about, uh, some of the stuff that I said earlier. I just…”
“It’s fine. It’s okay.” The teenager said, behind a thin smile. Steve wasn't sure if he meant it or not.
“No, just… It’s not okay,” he replied, stepping closer. He'd always been the spoiled only child, and had everything he'd always wanted - everything except a family. Now these kids had become the little brothers and sisters he'd always craved, especially Dustin. “Eddie - he saved your life. Our lives. And I know what he meant to you. I can’t even imagine how hard it’s been.” That wasn't entirely true but now he'd found a new way to focus his grief, for his own sake and Dustin’s. “And instead of just being there for you, I just - well, I got angry about it. I guess I got angry because things were different. Because I really missed you and I missed my best friend.” Missed Eddie.
As Dustin's eyes brimmed with tears, Steve wrapped him in his arms. Not to restrain him this time but to embrace him, tell him that whatever happened there would always be someone looking out for him.
“You die, I die,” Steve whispered.
“You die, I die.”
May 1989
In the candyfloss sky, the last strip of blue had almost faded away into ink, and the first few twinkling stars bled through the blackness. Any earlier clouds had vanished, leaving the crescent moon to peak from behind the trees like glowing horns. Standing between the air vents and exposed pipes, Steve rubbed the last of the tears from his eyes with his fingertips and brushed away a wispy speck of lint that stuck to the thigh of his mushroom-brown corduroy pants.
It won't be long now, Steve thought, as he kicked the empty beer bottle and straightened his tie, watching the indigo horizon for the real reason he would never leave Hawkins.
This was his favourite place.
Right on cue, the sound of wings fluttering and footsteps landing on the roof’s surface made him grin uncontrollably to himself. “What time do you call this?” He placed his hands on his hips in mock annoyance without turning around to face the source of the voice. "I almost gave up on you."
“Nah you didn't. If you could wait eighteen months for me, you I knew you'd wait another five minutes, Harrington,” the voice said as their footsteps rattled on the loose bitumen and they stopped right behind Steve. “Couldn’t risk being spotted, but you know I'm worth the wait.”
Steve turned then, and gently ran his hands up the makeshift armour of his visitor whose fangs glinted in the moonlight. “You always were worth it, Eddie. You should have seen the graduation, man. Dustin did it perfectly, exactly how you would’ve wanted.” His eyes glistened with pride as he smiled thinking of Dustin’s Hellfire Lives t-shirt. If only he knew… “We should tell him, he'd want to see you.”
“We will, soon. I promise." Pressing a long kiss full of promises and apologies against Steve's lips, Eddie’s elongated teeth flashed in a wide smirk and he tugged the collar of his partner's loose jacket. “Can we go home first?”
Nodding, Steve smiled back. “Next stop, Forest Hills.”
Epilogue November 1987
In the vine infested stairwell of the Hawkins lab, Steve let go of the cold metal of the rail struts he'd been gripping and wiped his face with his hands. Something wet, thicker than water, dripped somewhere above him, steady and loud in the dark.
His palms came back wet, a mixture of blood and sweat and something else. Tears.
“I am a fake asshole,” he sobbed. “A Grade-A shithead douche bag.”
He let the tears fall for a moment, let them stain his cheeks like he only did when he was sure no one was around to see them.
When they'd all dried out and his sobs that echoed down the stairs had faded away into nothing, he wearily pulled himself up.
Dustin was gone.
“Don't be so hard on yourself,” a voice said, descending the stairs in the shadows. “You're right, it was stupid of me to play the hero. But I'd do it all over again if it meant saving you and Dustin.”
“E-Eddie?” Steve stuttered, clambering for the torch that had slipped through his fingers and fallen to the floor. Fear gripped him like a vice.
“No, it's Santa. Merry Christmas, big boy." Eddie said, rolling his eyes.
“What hell? You can't be! You're… this isn't real, is it? Am I in a trance?”
His skin was even paler than Steve remembered, cast in a ghostly shade of white that shimmered like the rarest opals. “Nope, you're not cursed,” he smirked.
“So, then... Am I dead?”
I must be, Steve rationalised. I must have tripped, hit my head, and now I'm hallucinating as my brain gets starved of oxygen.
“Not that either. Do I look like an angel to you?” Eddie chuckled, stepping closer out of the shadows. His skin was mottled, bruised in the Upside Down’s blue light, his smile fuller and more menacing than before. As Steve backed away towards the edge of the steps in panic, Eddie stopped. “I'm here to tell you how to kill him.”
“What? Who? What are you talking about?”
“Seriously? Vecna, dude.” Eddie rolled his eyes. Typical Steve, still all hair and no synapses. I should have brought a chalk board and markers to draw him a diagram, Eddie thought and he lightly chuckled to himself again. “Vecna brought me back from the dead. And now I'm going to tell you how to save yourself, Dustin and everyone else back in Hawkins.”
Steve let out a final sob. “I-it’s really you? You're really here.” He gasped as Eddie nodded and reached out to grip his hand in the hostile, spore-filled air. “Do you know how long you’ve been gone?” Steve asked, his voice so low it magnified the chill in the air around them.
“Too fucking long,” Eddie answered, his silver rings which matched his armour rattled against the hand rail. “But that don't matter right now. What matters is you need to listen to me. You need to focus if you want to defeat him and help me leave this hellhole.”
“The hell it does,” Steve spat angrily, shoving Eddie backwards. “It's been nearly six hundred days of sitting around, watching Dustin fall apart because you wanted to play the hero. But who's counting, right?”
“Why are you so angry,” Eddie said raspily, as if his throat was constricted. His eyes were dark, almost entirely obsidian black in the violet light and the whites were threaded with spidery veins that raged with fire. “You sure it's Dustin you're talking about, Stevie?”
“No. If it wasn't for my stupid plan, none of this would've happened. But you and Dustin trusted me, and I trusted you not to die. Now look at me,” Steve posture slumped in resignation as the pent up grief poured from his mouth. “I was just in denial. Dustin hates me but I hate myself more for not being there for him and not being there to help you.” Biting back another sob, Steve placed his hands on his waist to stop them from shaking. “Nothing feels right anymore. You left me to pick up the pieces, Eddie. All this time… I thought you were dead, man. For six hundred days. And I still feel like I'm carrying around a load of shattered glass that cuts me to the bone with every day that passes since you died.”
When Steve’s voice trembled on the last word, Eddie couldn't reply. There was nothing he could say in this moment to explain and make it better. He just slowly stepped forward and wrapped his arms around the other man, letting his head press against his chest to prove he was there.
Finally, he spoke. “I know, I know. I'm sorry. I had to stay hidden to protect you both. But Steve, I need you to listen. I know what's going to happen. And if you do what I say, you all might save the world and get me the hell outta here.”