Chapter Text
It's been a few weeks since the world hasn't ended, and life has finally come back to normal.
Mostly.
There are still a few hitches in what one would have considered the course of normal life, of course, but Steve's theory is that it comes with the package, once you've seen the other side - and it's usually the little things. The heart in your throat whenever a lightbulb flickers. The distinct lack of interest, bordering on annoyance, towards any movies whose main antagonist is any variation of telekinetic, or mind-reader wizard. And of course, the unreasonable, blind panic whenever anyone from the party isn't reachable for more than a day or two.
To be fair, that last problem tends to arise with one specific person, but as far as they've been able to tell, it's more of a years-long lifestyle than a recent development.
None of them have the heart to tell him off, when they're all hanging on to pieces of their lives pre-shitshow to feel a sense of normalcy again, but it still drives Steve up the walls. Enough that Robin has jokingly insinuated, on more than an occasion, that his was a full-blown obsession.
Thankfully, Hellfire is the one weekly appointment he never misses, and Steve is lucky enough to be Dustin's ride home, tonight. He's a few minutes early, too, so he gets out of the Beamer, leans on it, and searches for the zippo in his pocket before lighting up. Smoking in the high school parking lot has a whole different flavor, when you're no longer bound by its rules.
The cigarette is still lit by the time the door opens.
A group of five or six guys comes out - and there's a certain relief in being able to make sure with his own two eyes that the man is still in one piece, curly bush of hair and jeans battle jacket included. He's laughing as the other kids talk between themselves and jump around enthusiastically, and it all seems so.. normal. A big, happy family: carefree, and exciting, ike a high school club should be.
Steve wonders if Eddie thinks about the real Vecna now, when he acts out the bad guys in his stories.
The metalhead is the one that spots him first, raising his hand in greeting, rings flickering in the light of the sunset. He leans over to Dustin, slaps him on the shoulder, and nods towards Steve - and that's when the kid sees him in the distance as well, and waves. The group scatters off once Henderson and Munson say goodbye and head towards him, discussing between themselves until they're close enough that Steve can hear their voices.
Not that Eddie is shy of projecting his, whenever he needs to.
"Steve Harrington, in the flesh," he greets with his usual shiny grin - and to Steve's surprise, he goes for a hug that catches him just a beat too late to reciprocate properly. "Haven't seen you in a while."
"You'd see me more often if you'd actually answered your phone, Munson," he bites back, patting him behind the back - but he's not angry, and both of them know it. They've done this little dance more times than either of them cares to keep track of.
Which is why Steve is already patting his pockets as soon as they let go of each other, knowing what's coming, while Eddie widens his arms in what looks like an apologetic half-bow.
"You know how I am. Gotta keep the mystery somehow," he smirks, but the smile doesn't reach the eyes as they're darting to the cigarette pressed between Steve's lips. "Speaking of. Not to be that kind of person, but uh, what are the chances that you'd be willing to part with an extra smoke? Higgins confiscated mine third period and I've been yearning for one."
Steve has the pack out and open before Eddie has even finished talking. He closes his eyes and brings his hands to the heart, mouthing a thank you before stealing two cigarettes with a wink and a smirk: one to light immediately, and one securely tucked in his front pocket.
It's generally frowned upon to steal more cigarettes than agreed upon, but it's become kind of their thing, and Steve sort of likes being the main enabler of Eddie Munson's smoking habit whenever they see each other. It's the easiest way he's found to make the man instantly happy, if only for a few minutes at a time; plus, there's a weird satisfaction in being the one his eyes instantly run to when he feels the need rising.
There may be something to unpack, there, but he's distracted by Dustin slapping his elbow.
"We were thinking, maybe we could give Eddie a ride? And then hang out at his place for a minute," he suggests, looking pointedly at Steve, who shrugs. Whatever he's trying to communicate - it's lost in translation.
He doubts it would make a difference in his answer anyway. "Sounds good. Come on in. After you've finished your cigarette, Munson - no smoking in the Beamer," he warns him, and that gets him another cheeky wink as he takes up Dustin's backpack and throws it in the back.
"Give me a minute, and I am all yours."
Steve leaves him where he stands and gets in the car just as Dustin flops onto the seat next to him, claiming what has become his regular spot.
"Is there anything going on tonight?" he asks off-handedly, trying to mentally schedule his evening in his head. What he does not expect is Dustin frowning and shooting him a pensive look.
"He was weird at school, today," he replies and, despite where they are currently parked, Steve will forever be surprised at any explicit reminders that the man is still attending Hawkins High. "And then Hellfire - it was good, but it wasn't the usual Eddie. So I figured that maybe he needs some company, but you know him. He's never gonna ask."
Steve sighs, resting his forehead on the steering wheel.
Dustin has a point. Or rather, he has no idea if he does, in terms of Eddie acting weird at school - he is always a little out there, after all - but he has definitely noticed that, ever since he got out of the hospital, the man has been hellbent on not asking anything of anyone, no matter the cost. Even if that had meant going without food for a few days between getting discharged and getting his supplies back, as they had found out only after.
He's as stubborn as they come; and despite it being extremely frustrating, it's something that Steve has a lot of respect for. Maybe that's why he keeps attracting people who are as bull-headed as him and Dustin, he ponders, as he tiredly looks at the man wiggling his fingers in his direction from outside his car.
Speaking of Dustin - was today Wednesday?
"Don't you have your cousin's birthday today?"
The kid's head slams against the car seat as he sighs. "I hate that you know that. Why do you know that?"
"Because your mother yelled it at you the last time I picked you up, and I do not want to get on her black list, Henderson. That woman scares me."
"She scares you? She's incapable of being mad at people, Steve, she just cries and yells a lot -"
"Yeah, that's also not ideal-"
"-and I really need you to do me a solid, here, because I'm telling you something is going on with him, and at school he's too slippery to corner. Please?"
They're looking at each other now. Steve is facing Dustin's best pleading face, his fingers drumming on the wheel while he thinks, and purses his lips.
He knows he's not gonna be able to say no. Not this time, or any other, for that matter.
"Munson residence it is," he sighs, and Dustin pumps a fist in the air in a move that Steve has seen Eddie do more than once, as the man himself climbs into the back seat, each hand clasping on to a headrest as he leans forward until his head is between the two of them.
"Much better now. Let's do this, boys."
---
Steve would never admit it out loud - his parents, with all their faults, have raised him better than that - but it feels odd stepping back in Eddie's trailer after… that.
He wonders it often, what it's like to live in a place where you've witnessed a murder. Where the worst experience of your life has started, and maybe still drags on, with that brownish stain still stuck to the ceiling as a constant reminder of it.
For a second, he thinks he should know - but Barb died in his pool, not in the middle of his living room.
"Make yourself at home, guys," Eddie invites them in, holding the door open until both of them are in. "Wasn't expecting guests, so uh, this place has seen cleaner days. But Harrington, I can offer you a beer if you'd like - and Dustin, best I can do for you is a glass of water, probably."
It's not an ugly place. It's small, and it's messy, but it has a distinct feel to it. There's about a million hats attached to the wall, for one, and the fridge is covered with little drawings on sticky notes that Steve hopes are Eddie's doing, because that would make him feel a tad more like a real person to him, and less like the human embodiment of an odd fairy creature.
It's cozy, Steve thinks, and he says as much. He just hopes it doesn't come out as surprised as he actually is.
"Yeah, once the gaping inter-dimensional wound is gone, it's a whole different feel, isn't it," Eddie comments nonchalantly. He passes a Bud's to Steve, without waiting for a proper reply, and Harrington cocks his head in thanks.
Dustin follows the exchange with a weird look. "Any chance I could get one of those?"
"Absolutely not," two voices reply in unison, and Eddie's smirk comforts something in Steve.
"God. I need to find more age-appropriate friends," Dustin groans, followed by a complicit half-shrug by the two men. He wasn't, like, way off. He'd probably benefit from hanging out with Lucas, Mike and Will a bit more, rather than with people in their twenties.
Either way, it's Dustin himself that takes charge in making sure the evening does not turn into an awkward staring contest, which relieves Steve to no end, because both adults are clearly not having it. He is clearly out of his comfort zone, his eyes being attracted a little too often by the drawings on the fridge and the brown cracks on the ceiling, in that order, and Eddie is oddly good at redirecting any of the questions Dustin throws at him - so after the first few conversations about his love life and his sadness at Suzie breaking up with him, the kid redirects the general attention to teh copy of Talisman Eddie has in his room.
"If we want Steve to join a one-shot, we need to get him hooked on fantasy board games first," he argues. Steve is not convinced it's gonna work, but Eddie apparently is, because he disappears for a moment only to come back to the kitchen with a black box approximately the size of his chest.
"I will have you know - I like fantasy," Steve clarifies, as Eddie clears the table enough to set the board and take out dice, figurines and cards. "I've watched Labyrinth. And E.T. "
"I would argue that E.T. is more on the side of science fiction," Dustin starts, but Eddie what looks like a glimpse of curiosity for the first time since Steve has picked him up.
"You watched Labyrinth?"
"Of course, man. It's got David Bowie in it."
"You know David Bowie?"
Steve is about to reply with his most offended expression - just because he lives in the suburbs, it doesn't mean that he has no access to good music - but the phone rings, and Eddie shows him the index finger to pause him before leaning over to the phone.
So Steve just turns to Dustin, playing around with his yellow figurine and pretending they're not overhearing the call.
"Munson residence here, how can I help - ah, Mrs Henderson - yes, Dustin is with me. Mhm. Oh, I had no idea. Wouldn't dream of it, of course."
Steve docks his head, his forehead wrinkled in confusion. You gave your mother Eddie's number? he mouths to the kid, who energetically shakes his head no and widens his eyes as Eddie basically swings the handset under his face.
He picks it up and winces as soon the phone hits his ears - and continues making the same face for the few minutes the call lasts, not that he manages to get much of a word in. God bless Mrs Henderson. Makes Steve reconsider even his own parents, sometimes.
Must be eliciting a similar feeling in Eddie, too, because he immediately turns back to Dustin the second the call is over. "Dustin. Why does your mother have my number?"
"I don't know, man. White pages?" he tries, but he shrugs as he does so, and Steve empathizes. A couple of dinners with Mrs Henderson, and even Eddie will stop asking these kinds of questions. "Fancy knowing that you do have a meet-the-parents side, though. How about coming over for dinner sometimes?"
"Only if your mother invites me. And chances are slim, because she only knows me for my alleged serial murders and the fact that I am currently keeping you from a family birthday dinner. Still unclear to me which one is the biggest sin."
Dustin rolls his eyes, and gets up from the table. "Yeah. On that note, this is not one she's gonna let go, so I'm gonna take a raincheck on tonight, but let's actually hang out sometimes, yeah?" he suggest, staring at both of them. "I'm walking home, so I can tell my mother you weren't involved, Steve."
"Thank god."
"Yup. So you stay here as planned," he adds, and this time, Steve understands what the pointed look means. Find out what's going on. "Eddie, I will put a good word in for you as well. Expect a dinner invitation."
"Wouldn't miss it," Eddie chuckles, half-surprised - and with that, Dustin slings out of the trailer, slamming the door behind him.
"His mother must be a piece of work, huh," the man comments only, amused, taking another swig of beer and looking at Steve with eyebrows arched in surprise.
Steve nods, pinching the base of his nose. "Dude, you have no idea."
---
The atmosphere without Dustin is different - but Talisman is already out and, according to Eddie's philosophy, it's bad luck to not play board games once they're set on the table. Steve suspects that it may be a lie; but he doesn't know much about tabletop games, and his one source of truth on the topic has just bolted out the door, so he's not willing to risk it.
The rules are not complex - and yet, somehow, still impossible for him to grasp. It's like his brain is not made for this kind of entertainment. Yet, Steve refuses to withdraw, ready to fight nail and tooth as long as there's the smallest chance of victory; never mind that the fact that he forgets to move after having rolled the dice about one time out of three and Eddie is definitely purposefully going easy on him so that the game is not immediately over.
To make things infinitely more difficult, Eddie's supply of beer is apparently never ending. It's not bad news, per se: for example, Steve learns that taking a sip of beer any time he doesn't understand something does help with the frustration. Unfortunately, the more frustrated he gets, the more he drinks, the less he understands, and the more frustration he quenches with beer, so it's a self-sustained feedback loop fueled by alcohol, and there's no end in sight.
Eddie keeps up with the rhythm, eyes planted on Steve's drink with a silent smirk, matching him sip by sip.
Forty minutes and seven empty beer cans in, they have all but forgotten the game.
"The thing I don't understand," Steve has started, standing up and moving towards Eddie, who is now sitting on kitchen counter, "is why you would play this. If you want a story, there are movies. Books. Videogames, even, if you struggle with self-immersion. But this - "
"This you do with people! That's the allure, the drive. And Dungeons and Dragons -"
"I'm never playing Dungeons and Dragons."
"Bold statement, Steve. Never say never," Eddie replies, thoughtful. The beer has softened his edges, and his cheeks are a little pink. "Things may surprise you. People may surprise you, too."
"That they do," Steve raises his can to him, and takes the last sip, ignoring the fact that his knees don't feel as steady as they should. He leans on the counter next to Eddie, and throws back his head to think.
He just finished his fourth can, he realizes, and even worse: he's got to open at the video store tomorrow.
"Jesus. I'm - I, uh, should get going, I think. I got responsibilities tomorrow."
"If I may, Harrington. Far from me telling you what to do and not to do," Eddie notes, one finger in the air again, "But surviving alien creepy crawlies and mind sorcerers to wrap yourself around a pole because you're driving drunk seems like a shitty deal, as far as cool deaths go."
Eddie's not wrong, per se; he's not embarrassingly drunk, but everything around him seems joy-inducing and distracting enough that he knows he will feel the aftermath tomorrow, and his reflexes are definitely shot. He just knows he should probably leave sooner than later, what with his duties at Family Video - and he can probably walk home. His house is closer than Dustin's, and he's never done it on foot, but he's decently sure that he can figure out the way.
Then he looks up at Eddie, and he realizes two things.
One, that he feels a genuine mote of affection towards the man on the other side of the kitchen, with his big brown eyes and big cheeky grin and all perched up on the counter - and it's rare, this days, for Steve to actually feel things.
Two, he remembers he's promised Dustin, which seems to be the reason for most of his poor decision-making, theses days.
Fuck it.
"Yeah, you may actually be right. Oddly enough," he jokes instead, and swipes two more beers from the six pack on the table, offering one to the other man. "Last one then?"
"Last one," he agrees, and as both of them pop open their cans and take the first sip, there's a few seconds of silence.
Steve… has not been doing well with silence, since their latest shitshow went down; and neither has Eddie, apparently, because they open their mouth to talk at exactly the same time, and Steve's question gets drowned in Eddie's voice. It's a really nice voice, Steve notices now that they're closer. He can see how he could be a singer. He'd like to hear him, sometimes.
"Go ahead, Harrington."
"No, no. You go, you have a prettier voice anyway," he hears himself say and - maybe a last beer is not such a good idea after all. It's hard enough to keep his thoughts on a straight line, and if his mouth start picking up loose strands…
"What-" Eddie is taken by surprise. It really doesn't happen all that often, to be able to catch Munson by surprise, and a sense of pride roads in Steve's chest when he giggles. "I mean, it makes no sense, but thanks? Then I think you should go first because, uh, you just offered me a beer and you were kind to me. This is how you sound."
"It's your beer, Munson. In your kitchen, where you're hosting. You first," Steve replies, and he's emboldened enough by his success to disregard his previous thought and take one more swig.
The beer has been helping, anyway. He's giddier than he's been in a long, long while - since before the big dark thing that he refuses to speak about - and seeing Eddie genuinely chuckle in delight is such a rare occurrence in a sea of sarcastic snorts, big grins, and empathetic smiles that the hangover will definitely be worth it. He cannot wait to tell Robin he's witnessed a giggly Munson. She's gonna make fun of him, but he doesn't care.
Maybe he is a little obsessed with him after all.
Steve is absorbed enough by that possibility that he almost misses Eddie get quiet and pensive for a second before answering, playing with his ring as he does. "I was just - It's dumb. I, uh, have a gig on Friday. Don't expect a whole lot of crowd, but if you want, you should come along," he says, and quickly looks to the ceiling. "With, uh, Robin, of course. Wouldn't bring Dustin. It's uh, not a great scene for a 14 year old."
Steve may be drunk, but he recognizes a man going out of his comfort zone on a limb when he sees it. He doesn't know why, but Eddie's offering a hand - and from a man that disappears from the face of the earth on a biweekly basis, that's… something. Odd, perhaps, but definitely something.
So he nods - and he's earnest. He has already decided he wants to hear him sing after all, and while he was absolutely shredding it the last time he's heard him play, he'd love to have a different memory to replace it with. Plus, he vaguely remembers hearing about operational conditioning during social studies class, and he wants to encourage the whole reaching out thing as much as possible.
Maybe he'll even answer his phone, one day.
"That would be fun," he agrees - and there's no time to add anything else, because Eddie immediately transforms in front of him. He's got a happy glimpse in his eyes now, and his hands are in the air rather than grasping the kitchen counter. What catches Steve's eye is his smile, though - big and genuine enough he can almost see what Eddie was like as a kid, and it's… oddly endearing.
He finds himself scooting a little closer, without thinking.
"Dude. It's the shittiest place ever, right, but they let us play for - well not free. I need to work there three times a week, but honestly, way worth it. It's also just about the only place that will hire me right now, so it's a good deal, and - oh my god, we're working on this new song -"
It's such a different experience from the versions of Eddie that he's seen in the past. This has nothing to do with the flamboyant, reckless performer he's seen around the hallways of Hawkins High - and is wildly different from the gloomy, kind, scared Eddie he's come to know in the - well, recently. He's buzzing, and talking a little too loud for the space, and there's an honest-to-god sparkle in the brown of his eyes.
Steve is thoroughly enjoying this mirror into Eddie Munson's soul. It's a similar feeling to when he had started getting to know Robin, back at Scoops Ahoy, and - that has got to be a good sign. So Steve lets him talk until he's all out of words and the energy has settled into the air of the room, with his fingers still wiggling around and the wonky smile is stuck on his face.
There are so many versions of Eddie that he hasn't seen, and the ones he has witnessed don't even seem to be compatible with each other - and still, all exist. The freak, the older brother figure. The person that the one that invites him to his show, and the one that will refuse to talk to him.
He wants to know more. He's confused, more intrigued than he'd like to admit, and honestly too tipsy to avoid brushing his forearm as he gets closer and just whispers the one question that has been buzzing in his mind all week, at this point.
"Why don't you answer our calls?"
Steve gets goosebumps from how fast the energy shifts in the room once Eddie smile dies. He's biting his bottom lip as he jumps down, wobbling just a bit, and reaches on top of the fridge.
Once he turns around, he's got an envelope between two fingers, holding it towards Steve. He takes it, opens it, and -
"A graduation invite?" Steve reads, surprised, and if he's honest with himself - he can't really tell whether his reaction is due to the fact that Eddie is actually graduating after all the shit that went down, or that he really doesn't seem all that thrilled about it.
Eddie replies with slow-motion finger guns. "Third time's the charm, baby."
"You're graduating, so… you're avoiding us? Ah, yes, makes perfect sense."
Eddie snorts, and this - this is the man Steve knows. He's used to this version of Eddie; watching him take another sip feels like the most natural thing in the world.
"Surprisingly enough to most, not everything is about you, Harrington," he replies, staring in the distance, lips still resting on the metal can. Steve wonders if it's the beer, the secret ingredient to make Eddie talk after all, but he's got his doubts. It would work with him; his filter is shot, for sure, but that man - he didn't seem to have a filter anyway. "I just had things to think about."
Eddie's eyes flicker on him for a moment, and Steve is pretty sure, even in the dim yellow lights, that he's blushing a little.
That's got to be a be a good sign, too.