Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

1986

There were only so many times someone could hit you in the head before you got lasting problems. Steve found that the number was about three. 

He hadn’t been one to avoid fights before his one with Jonathan; it was only one, and he got hit in the head (unsurprisingly), but at the time, it was a one-off thing. The headaches disappeared after a few days. After Jonathan, there was a building ache behind his eyes, something that was a mild annoyance at best, and he snapped at Nancy more times than he’s prouder to admit - more times than he should have. The headaches went away almost as quickly, but he had his first ever migraine not long after that. 

It fucking sucked. 

It was like his brain was being pulled from his skull through his eyes, as his heart thrummed in his ears, loud and annoying, his hands unable to stop shaking, and his lip began to bleed from where he bit it to stop himself from crying. He remembered wandering around the house, wondering if his parents were going to return next month to his rotting corpse just lying in the kitchen. 

He tried not to think about how much they'd care. 

He also tried to self-medicate (something he now advocated the kids - plus Eddie - not do, but what can he say? He’s a hypocrite). His father enjoyed staring at the fancy whiskeys in his cabinet, regaling fantastical tales of where they were bought, how much they cost, what they taste like, but Steve knows he doesn’t notice when they go missing, because some already have.

Which was how he found his way to cope. 

The upside down was not something he liked to think about, and drinking helped take that issue away at least. He didn’t realise the migraines were from head trauma at the time, he just thought he was thinking himself into feeling pain - the idea made him laugh now; Robin would have said that it was no surprise thinking caused him pain because he’s a dingus. 

And then there was Billy fucking Hargrove, the dickhead who not only smashed a plate over his head, but hit him again, and again, and again. That was the one where his head injuries became a problem. 

What Steve would consider, a real problem. 

The most apparent thing was that his vision was blurred so badly, he almost mistook Mike for Nancy - not his finest moment. After a few doctors’ appointments, they assured him that the majority of the blurriness should disappear as his injury healed, but he needed glasses to drive and reading was already a struggle - now it gave him a headache. It was hardly the worst injury to come out of their run-ins with the upside down (people had died), but Steve wasn’t sure how to feel about it. 

There was a ringing in his left ear too, that was around for much longer than Steve realised. He noticed its absence more than the ringing itself, but he tried not to worry - Steve Harrington was not getting hit in the face anytime soon…

However, he found it harder to self-medicate as he did last time. The kids seemed to see something in Steve, and fuck knows what they saw, because Steve could barely look at his own reflection anymore, but it was nice. They asked him to drive to and from places, they asked if they could use his house, and his pool (which he was more than happy to allow, though he’d never admit it). If he could name his favourite sound, if he could put it in the background of every song he ever listened to, every crowded room of strangers, it would be the kids laughing. 

It made him feel far less lonely than he was.

Dustin was very blunt. He asked questions Steve wasn’t sure how to answer, and asked for advice Steve wasn’t sure he was qualified to give, but he tried his best, but Dustin appreciated that more, somehow. The kid stuck to him like a leech, but a welcome one. 

Steve felt as if he was getting the hang of things, finally; he had glasses now, sure, but he graduated, even if he didn’t get into any colleges, and the migraines were slowly getting worse, but they were still relatively infrequent. It was easier to simply be Steve Harrington, the babysitter of a strange group of kids, who scooped ice cream as a job. He didn’t like trying to think about who he could be, or if he was okay. 

The kids had it worse. 

Joyce Byers had it worse. 

Nancy had it worse. 

He was fine. 

When Scoops Ahoy was still standing, and Will, Lucas, Max, and Mike were complaining at him from across the counter, demanding their free samples like the gremlins they are, a sharp, slow building of pain began behind his eyes, and he felt like slamming his head into the counter - not a good idea, but he wanted to, nonetheless. Robin must have seen something, swooping in and announcing it was time for his break, and she’d deal with the masses whilst he called all those girls' numbers he didn't have.

It was teasing, and she never brought up why he suddenly looked in pain, but she did turn her back and loudly announce that she wouldn’t notice if someone decided to have some of the ice cream whilst she took stock. He hates that he dragged her into it. Steve wasn’t ungrateful to have a good friend for once, someone who tried, but he hates that she thought she was tied to a dead body, he hates that she got drugged up, dosed to high hell and back. 

Being hit in the head (once again) by the Russians, was not something that Steve could say he enjoyed either. Dustin tried to lighten the mood whenever it was brought up, saying ‘ladies wasn’t all his face attracted’, but his left ear hadn’t stopped ringing, and it never would. 

He was partially deaf in his left ear. 

Apparently that was a possibility of being hit in the head one too many times - not to mention when that bat strangled him.

Four fights down and all he had to show for it was chronic migraines, fucked vision, and being partially deaf.

Steve couldn’t get out of bed some days, muttering low apologies to Robin over the phone about how she would have to find her own way to Family Video, his head throbbing; his migraines had triggers - loud noises, bright lights, if he was worried about someone close to him - and he quickly learned to turn his head when people were speaking, making sure to face them, try to read their lips (even if he was shit at it), or at the very least, have people talk at his right side. 

He learnt to avoid crowds too (not that he didn’t already).

All that said, he didn’t regret being the human shield. He’d much rather that he had permanent injuries than any of the kids… or anyone, really. 

Steve stuck to Robin like glue after the events of Starcourt, remembering how he was after his first run-in with the upside down. He tried to help give her life normalcy again, asking her if she had a crush on someone, asking her about her favourite music, and films, asking if she wanted to get drunk and cry. If he was there for her, if he was a good enough friend, she wouldn’t fall into the same habits that he did, she wouldn’t crave disconnecting from her body after every nightmare, or need to validate her existence on how helpful she was in a crisis. 

She didn’t take his offer to get drunk.

He wasn’t sure if he felt relieved. 

Robin was very insistent of the opposite, wanting to face her emotions head on so she could understand them. If it wasn’t for her, Steve knows he would have fallen into a very dark hole after Starcourt. He might not love her romantically anymore, but he loved her. Absolutely, Steve loved Robin - with every fibre of his being. She was a little bit of a mess, and she rambled constantly, she missed social cues, and she didn’t understand people in the slightest, but Robin was Robin, and that’s exactly what Steve didn’t know he needed. 

He filled his house with as much noise as he could, collecting tape after tape of anything he could find, ensuring that if the kids weren’t around, if Robin wasn’t around, that he didn’t have to deal with suffocating, stale silence that sucked the life dry from within that house. 

If his parents ever visited, Steve would sit in his room pretending he didn’t exist, being as quiet as possible; he was thankful for the existence of headphones and Walkman’s - sometimes he would drive in his car for hours, until his feet ached and he had driven the same streets a hundred times, so that he wouldn’t have to pretend he was tired.

He made himself so busy that he didn’t have the time to get drunk - not until after Vecna, anyway. The weeks had passed, Eddie was no longer a wanted man, and Steve had made sure his car had space for Max’s wheelchair. The air was calm, everyone was moving on, pretending it was okay, or maybe it was okay, and Steve just wasn’t. 

In the blink of an eye, he was in front of his father’s cabinet again, choosing a bottle from the back. 

He had barely made it back to his room before he felt it; the slow, steady feeling that relaxed every muscle, made his lungs expand wider - the feeling that normally made Steve sleep easier, and that made existing a little less sharp. 

His stomach churned and he was back with the Russians and they were screaming question after question after fucking question and he couldn’t feel his legs but was it because of the alcohol or because they were tied to a chair again and fuck he couldn’t hear anything other than his own breathing and maybe he also heard the faint sound of Robin telling him something but she wasn’t in his house right now and was he on his bed or the floor and did that matter but perhaps it did and then there was the bone saw and fuck his fucking fingernail almost got taken out and they’ve injected something because he felt exactly like this as he felt light-headed and relaxed and as if there was nothing he could do wrong and nothing he could say wrong and then he said Dustin’s entire name for them and were they going to find him and question him too and what happened with that information because he needed Dustin to be okay and -

He blinked. 

And even though he was in his room again, he needed to check. 

Grabbing the radio from his bedside (where he kept it, just in case), he sat on his bed, brushing a hand through his hair, he ran his tongue along his teeth, checking they were there. “Henderson, you there?”

His leg bounced, echoing against the wooden floor and the sound knocked against the side of his head; he tried not to wince. “You’re supposed to say over, when you’re done, over.”

“Thank you baby-Wheeler, but I’m currently asking for Henderson,” Steve replied, rolling his eyes. “Over.”

With each passing second, his head felt the monotonous thump, thump from his leg bouncing, and Steve was close to driving to the Henderson’s house when the radio crackled. “Steve? This better be important, over.”

Definitely Dustin.

“Where are you? Over.”

Steve heard Dustin groan. “Why do you even want to know, Steve, is it really important? Over.”

“Seriously Henderson, you think I’d use the radio for nothing? I’ve heard your rules about a million times already man, over,” he replied, chewing at the inside of his cheek. 

Dustin groaned again. “I’m at Eddie’s trailer. Happy? Over”

Steve clicked his tongue. That was about a ten-minute drive, maybe closer to five now it was dark out. “I’m on my way, and don’t,” he began, knowing that Dustin would protest. “Argue with me on that, Henderson, over.”

Without waiting for an answer, Steve threw the radio onto his bed. He gripped his car keys as tight as he could, until he felt them dig into the palm of his hand, and he could tell himself to breathe; he wasn’t drunk, he had only had a single shot, but he felt shakier than usual, as if there was something stopping him from thinking; he didn’t have a migraine, he had simply thought too much, it would pass.

Logically, he knew Dustin was okay, he had heard Dustin talking to him, acting how Dustin usually did, but he couldn’t shake that feeling, the low humming of dread that pooled in his stomach and gripped at his spine, pulling its way to his throat and his chest. It was the sort of dread where he needed to have undeniable proof that Dustin was okay, something he couldn’t get through a voice. 

Steve was the same with Robin; he would wake up, unable to remember what really happened at Starcourt, with Vecna, and he needed to hear her voice, see her face, to make sure she was actually alive. She was the same, and Steve never had to explain why he felt the need to check on her. It was similar with the kids, though it wasn’t as frequent of a fear - he was their babysitter, their protector, if he was still alive, so were the kids - but every now and then, he couldn’t remember if Max had ever woken up, or if Will had ever escaped the upside down, or if El had ever gotten out of those facilities. 

And currently, Steve couldn’t remember if the Russians were after Dustin or not. 

He made it to Eddie’s trailer much quicker than was probably legal, but he didn’t care. Tapping his fingers against the wheel, he took as deep a breath as he could, and made his way to the door. 

Wayne was the one to open it, and he squinted at the lights. “Hello Mr Munson, is - er - is Henderson - Dustin - around?” he managed to ask, and he must have looked worse than he thought, because Wayne only rolled his eyes - he usually told Steve to call him Wayne. 

“Eddie’s room,” he sighed, allowing Steve inside. “Tell them to keep it down, would you, Harrington?”

Steve couldn’t help but smile. “I’ll try sir,” he assured, waving as he headed towards the room. Steve tried to ignore the sharp needles in the backs of his eyes, pretending that if he ignored it, he’d be fine. He could hear Dustin’s laughter, and something inside him felt a little silly that he had driven all the way here. He knocked. “It’s Steve.”

There was a moment of hushed whispering, and frantic sounds of shuffling paper (the two must have been doing something D&D related). Eddie opened the door, wearing a tank-top, his hair twisted up behind him - Steve wasn’t staring. “Harrington,” he grinned, but Steve could have sworn it faltered when he looked at Steve. It wasn’t for long so maybe he was simply tired. “Miss me that much sweetheart?”

Steve snorted. “My heart aches for you Munson,” he replied dryly, folding his arms as Eddie pulled back the door, gesturing to his room. 

“Steve!” Dustin greeted, waving frantically, a paper full of scribbled notes before him. That’s what Steve liked about Dustin, what made him feel like his older brother; even if he acted like he was annoyed at the idea of Steve checking in on him, Dustin was always happy to see him. “So what did you want?”

“What, dude?” he smiled, ruffling the kid’s hair. “Can’t I hang out with you? Worried I’ll mess up your nerd things?” 

Dustin furrowed his eyebrows. “You just want to hang out?”

Steve shrugged. “If that’s alright with the two of you, then yeah.”

He almost missed it, the confused glance at Eddie behind him, and the concerned expression he had looking at Steve - he didn’t like that at all. “If his Majesty wishes to grace us with his presence, then by all means.” Eddie bowed, and Steve tried his best not to shake his head, or roll his eyes at Eddie’s theatrics - though they were oddly comforting - to avoid worsening his on-coming migraine; he probably shouldn’t have driven. 

“Great!” Dustin nodded, throwing sheets of paper at Steve as he sat beside him on the floor, leaning against the foot of Eddie’s bed. “We’re trying to plan a surprise for the campaign, with it being Will’s first one as a member of Hellfire and all, but Eddie didn’t want to add anything that might upset him which is why I’m here - normally the DM would plan the campaign alone.”

Steve smiled as if he understood. “DM, that’s the… Dungeon… Manipulator?” he asked, looking to Eddie (who was putting on his leather jacket for reasons Steve couldn’t figure out) for confirmation, only to find the man suppressing a laugh. 

“Close Stevie, it’s Dungeon Master,” he grinned, sitting on the other side of Dustin. “How long have you been babysitting these kids?” he teased, and Steve rolled his eyes. 

“Tend to tune it out man, they mainly argue about it in the back of my car,” Steve admits, earning a glare from Dustin, and a mock-gasp from Eddie. “You okay though, Henderson?” he asked, just needing to know. 

Dustin rolled his eyes. “Yes Steve, I’m fine. Now pay attention, you might learn something.”

If Steve learnt anything after their short D&D planning session, it was that he had never been more certain he had no interest in playing - although maybe it was his growing migraine that made that decision for him. It was not only too complicated, but as soon as Dustin and Eddie started talking about what goes into a character sheet, Steve was beyond lost. It was nice to see the two having fun though, even if he didn’t understand any of it.

It was after Dustin had tried to explain classes, that Eddie glanced at his watch - Steve’s eyes lingering on Eddie’s hands, the rings that littered each one, and the way his fingers fluttered without Eddie even noticing. “Your mom picking you up Henderson?” 

Dustin looked at his own watch. “She should be here any minute.”

“Stevie,” Eddie called out, waving a hand in front of his eyes - Steve hadn’t realised he’d spaced out. “You heading out too?”

Blinking, Steve tried not to wince as he moved his head; it was as if it was filled with melting ice and needles. “Probably should,” he mumbled, but as soon as he tried to stand, his vision swam before him and he fell back onto the floor. “Fuck,” he muttered, rubbing his eyes. 

“Son of a bitch.” Dustin knelt before him, and he knew the kid was rolling his eyes. “Please tell me you didn’t drive here with a migraine?” 

“I didn’t?” he tried, but even Steve didn’t believe himself. 

“Jesus Christ Steve,” Dustin exclaimed. “This is why Robin won’t date you, you know, you’re an idiot.” 

“Not the time kid,” he heard Eddie add. 

It absolutely wasn’t the reason - Robin was the lesbian of all lesbians. “Platonic with a capital ‘P’ Henderson.” he mumbled back, and each word was like hammering a nail into his skull. 

He wasn’t sure if he’d told Eddie about the migraines.

“Goddamnit Steve, don’t talk,” Dustin replied, ignoring him to turn to Eddie. 

Steve frowned. “Don’t say dumb shit then,” he muttered, ignoring the flare of pain that flashed from the lights, from the hushed conversation between Eddie and Dustin, from the feelings of his clothes on his skin. He scrunched his eyes closed, pressing his hands against the sides of his head as if it might help reduce the pain - it didn’t, it only made him aware of his blood pumping, pounding. 

He didn’t realise someone had knelt beside him, and flinched at their voice. “Stevie, sweetheart,” Eddie said softly, his voice cutting through Steve’s thoughts. “Do you feel sick at all?”

He wanted to cry. “No,” he breathed. 

“Okay man,” Eddie continued. “I’ll be back with some painkillers, and we’ll figure it out,” he said, squeezing his hand on Steve’s shoulder, his rings digging in hard enough to leave a mark. “Henderson, with me.” He stood up, and when the door closed, Steve flinched. 

There was a low hum from electricity, from the water in the pipes, and from a car outside. 

All he could focus on was the pain. 

When the door opened again, the lights flickered off, and Steve’s voice caught in his throat, unable to say that he did not want to be in the dark. They came on again after a moment. “Sorry man,” Eddie said, and Steve opened his eyes as best he could to see Eddie wincing. “Forgot about the - yeah.”

Of course, Steve knew why Eddie would turn the lights off, he was clearly in pain because of them, so of course turning the lights off would help, if only Steve wasn’t afraid of the dark. 

A grown man afraid of the dark.

It made sense, sure, it was a fear he didn’t have to explain to anyone. He didn’t want to be unprepared for the upside down to make a grand re-appearance… again; the flickering lights were the only way Steve would know, the only way for him to get prepared to protect the kids - his strange little, make-shift family. He didn’t have a secret sense like Will, or El, Steve wasn’t smart like Max, Dustin, and Nancy, and he wasn’t all-understanding like Mike, Lucas, and Robin - Steve was the shield, he wasn’t known for what his mind could do.

“Painkillers,” Eddie said, shoving pills and a mug of water toward him. “The cups need cleaning, so I'm afraid all we've got are mugs, my Liege,” he joked, and if Steve didn’t feel as if his head was splitting in two, he would have laughed. 

“Thanks,” he mumbled, hating the feeling of the painkillers in his throat. He must have grimaced, because Eddie chuckled. 

His hand was back on Steve’s shoulder - he liked it. “Yeah, I hate taking pills too,” he shrugged. “I know, I know, drug dealer and all that, feel free to make the joke when you can Stevie,” he grinned. 

Steve tried to smile; he really did. 

“Do you want me to go?” Eddie asked, his eyes softening when Steve clutched Eddie’s jacket. 

“Stay.”

Eddie smiled. “I’m not going anywhere big boy, don’t worry,” he winked, and god if Eddie said that to Steve when he wasn’t in the middle of a migraine, he might have kissed him there and then. Instead, Steve rested his head against the other’s shoulder. 

“Dustin?” he asked, wondering if Eddie was running a hand through his hair, or if the pain was getting to him. 

“I sent him home, his mom showed,” Eddie explained, and he hadn’t forced Steve to move yet - Steve would take it. “Had to make a fuck ton of promises to watch out for you though, dude,” he chuckled. “That kid cares a lot about you.”

Steve’s heart softened. “Me too.”

Time passed, Steve knew it did because of Eddie, shuffling, shifting his feet, stretching his neck and his hands, twisting his wrists; Steve wasn’t sure how much time had passed, though - it was difficult to tell - but it was nicer to lean against Eddie than to be sat by himself. In fact, it was nicer to have the sound of Eddie’s breathing echoing around him instead of the creaking floorboards in his empty house. 

The lights swam around him, bubbling in a similar way to the noise; each bubble either forced its way into his ear, exploding at his ear drum and sending a thrum of pain through his skull, or danced before his eyes, until it popped, sending a wave of pain with it. Steve tried to curl in on himself, wanting to disappear, wanting the world to continue but for him to not have this, just for a little while.

He clicked his tongue, forcing himself to sit up once the lights weren’t as painful. 

He refused to be a bother, to overstay his welcome. 

“Thanks Eddie,” he said, but he didn’t understand why Eddie was frowning. “I’ll get going -”

“Nope,” Eddie grinned, learning forward. “You, Steve, are going to sit back down - or lie down - ‘cause I don’t care if it’s only the painkillers kicking in or if it’s actually gone, but you’re not driving and I’m going to make you something to eat, ‘cause I bet you haven’t eaten, and then you’re going to spend the night because you just sat there for almost three hours,” he explained, his grin never fading. 

If he’d sat there for almost three hours, it was nearly midnight, and Steve couldn’t deny the appeal of the offer. Some part of him wanted to refuse, sure, but there was still a dull ache behind his eyes, and if his car crashed, well… Dustin would kill Eddie.

He sighed, sitting beside Eddie once more, who then patted his cheek. All Steve could do was blink. “Good boy,” Eddie cooed, and Steve’s mouth went dry. “Do you like cereal? Cause it’s all we’ve got for now.”

He clicked his tongue again. “Cereal is the shit,” he smiled, leaning his head back against the bed. 

Eddie laughed, and one thing Steve had noticed about Eddie Munson was how he laughed. There were a few categories to Eddie Munson’s laughter; his soft laugh, when he either didn’t want someone to know they’d said something funny, or Steve had said something no one else found funny; his harsh laughter, when he wanted to be dramatic, or someone called him a murderous satanist as he was buying his groceries; his loud laughter, the laughter that was his own, the laughter that was Eddie Munson through and through. 

Steve felt like he didn’t hear it enough, and he loved when he managed to get Eddie to laugh like that. 

“One bowl of cereal, coming up your Majesty,” Eddie grinned, bowing even though they were both on the floor. 

Steve snorted, regretting it as his head throbbed again. “Stop being funny, hurts,” he groaned. 

Eddie laughed again. “Sorry man,” he hummed, pushing himself to his feet. “Need anything else?”

“Kinda cold,” Steve admitted, tapping a finger against his leg. 

Eddie hummed, shrugging off his leather jacket. “It should fit, and it’s an excellent jacket,” he insisted, smiling when Steve rolled his eyes. “Although, if you wanted to wear my clothes, Stevie, you could have just asked,” he teased.

Steve wondered if he should want to wear Eddie’s clothes - maybe not the jeans, but his t-shirts and jackets always looked comfortable. “Don’t offer if you don’t mean it,” he muttered, resting his head against the bed again. 

When Eddie didn’t reply, Steve wondered if he’d stepped too far, breached the unspoken between them and made things weird. Then, Eddie snorted. “You’re welcome to, dude,” he said. It was so oddly sincere, Steve almost asked why he was welcome. “I’ll get your cereal.”

The door clicked shut, and Steve’s arms felt itchy, like his skin wasn’t his own, as if his jumper wanted to leave scratches. Maybe it was because he had been invited to, maybe it was because the migraine hadn’t fully subsided yet, but he needed to wear, not only Eddie’s jacket but, one of his band t-shirts. Steve knew where they were, carefully folded in his top drawer, cherished as if they were priceless because to Eddie they were - being told he was allowed to wear them made Steve’s stomach twist. 

Not wanting to ruin Eddie’s careful folding, he picked the one on top, a Metallica t-shirt, and the fabric was softer than anything Steve owned. He wondered if it was because Eddie loved his clothes. 

By the time Eddie returned with his cereal, Steve was lying on the bed, an arm over his eyes as he grinned to himself. The t-shirt was the best thing he’d ever worn. 

For a split-second, he wondered if Eddie was upset that he’d worn it, but then Eddie laughed. “Good choice,” he said, his head gesturing to the name. 

Steve shrugged as he sat up. “It was the one on top,” he admitted, even though he had listened to a few Metallica songs - not that Eddie needed to know. 

“How you feeling?” 

Steve clicked his tongue. “Better, it was on the milder side anyway.”

“You’ve had worse?” Eddie asked, sounding so horrified Steve wanted to lie and tell him he was being sarcastic. 

Instead, he sighed. “Been at this shit for a few years dude, so, yeah,” he shrugged, it was unusual for his migraine to only last a few hours, most of them were a day, at the least. He sort of learnt to deal with them - didn’t want to worry anybody, or miss too much work.

“You don’t admit when it’s bad, do you,” Eddie said, with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. He shoved the cereal toward Steve, who made a show of taking a spoonful, to tell Eddie that yes, he was in fact eating. “I have a question for you Harrington, if you’re up for it.”

Steve tapped his leg, wondering if he should lie, but finding that Eddie wasn’t a person he could really lie to. “Yeah, I can talk.”

Eddie crossed his legs on the bed, leaning forward to rest his head in his hands and stare at Steve. “What was up with Henderson?”

“What?” Steve blinked. 

“Henderson? Short guy, your fifteen-year-old best friend/ little brother -”

Steve waved a hand, placing the cereal to the side. “I know who he is, dingus, I just - I didn’t expect you to ask,” he admitted, forcing a smile. “You know the kids call me momma Steve? I know it’s a joke, but sometimes I feel like I might not be far from the truth,” he explained. “I was just living up to the joke, I guess.”

Eddie crossed his arms in an ‘X’ in front of him. “Nope, wrong answer, I’ve seen Momma-Hen-Harrington, and that wasn’t him,” Eddie said, tilting his head. Steve glanced at his hands as Eddie sighed. “I’m not going to force you to talk to me Steve, I’ve no doubt you prefer to deal with this by yourself, and I’d be a hypocrite to force you to reach out,” he admitted, twisting one of his rings back and forth. 

That was… unexpected - Steve should have suspected Eddie would bottle his emotions after Vecna, as everyone seemed to these days, but he’d been so open in the upside down, Steve thought Eddie would have someone to talk to. 

“But you can talk to me Stevie, we’re trauma bonded, remember?” he joked. 

Licking his lips, Steve felt a little dehydrated. “Nothing, Eddie, nothing is happening, I just -” He took a deep breath, running a hand through his hair. “I drank for the first time since Starcourt was destroyed and I freaked out because I’m stupid, and can’t tell the difference between alcohol and a stupid fucking Russian truth drug and I -” His hands were shaking. “It’s - look, it’s nothing.”

Eddie furrowed his eyebrows, and Steve couldn’t tell if he was concerned or angry. “Doesn’t sound like nothing,” he muttered. “Sounds like some major shit to me, Harrington.”

Steve didn’t like how Eddie said Harrington then. “It’s not though, it’s really nothing,” he insisted. “I mean, you got it worse, being accused of murder, and Will was stuck in the upside down for a week, and Robin had thought I’d died and that she was next, and -”

“Let's not compare here, big boy, yeah?” Eddie’s voice was soft again, soothing Steve in a way that would scare him if he thought about it. “We’ve all been through shit, and you have been going through it for longer.”

Steve wanted to roll his eyes. Didn’t Eddie get it? It didn’t matter what Steve went through, he wasn't a good person to begin with; it didn’t matter when those around him, people who compared to him were practically saints, could barely sleep at night, when they would knock on Steve’s door, eyes red, because they didn’t feel safe anymore. Nothing about Steve mattered, not when everyone else had yet to heal. 

“It’s bullshit Eddie, it’s all bullshit,” he spat, the pressure in his eyes blooming. “I’m bullshit - I didn’t feel grounded for one second; that spacey feeling you get when the alcohol kicks in, or when you start to get high, and I wasn’t in my room anymore, no, because it was so fucking close to that feeling.” He shivered, pins and needles in his toes. “I gave the Russians Dustin’s entire name, Eddie, and more, because of that fucking drug, and yeah I didn’t ask to get dosed, but I didn’t fight it either. 

“Robin did, sort of. Told me that I needed to shut up, that I was being an idiot, but I kept talking. I may as well have offered them Dustin flat out, and Robin insists it was because I was concussed too, but I’ve been concussed every year for the past five years, and what? Last year I offer my best friend to the fucking Russians?” Steve finished, his eyes stinging. He wiped them as quick as he could, and the regret of opening up hit him from behind. He stared at his hands, avoiding Eddie’s gaze.

“Stevie,” Eddie said, reaching out a hand to Steve, wiping away some of his tears - that only made Steve cry more. “Fuck Steve.”

“Yeah,” he chuckled, feeling drained. “Yeah, I know, it’s stupid.”

“No, sweetheart, it’s not stupid,” Eddie said, bringing their foreheads together. “You are not stupid, Steve Harrington. I mean, yeah that’s going to fuck with you, how do you just - it’s pretty metal, Stevie, the fact you just keep going.”

Steve snorted, knocking his forehead into Eddie’s nose and forcing the two apart. “I just wanted to get drunk, maybe get high, feel like a teenager for a minute.”

“But you can’t,” Eddie said, finishing Steve’s sentence. “And you get the migraines, I mean, shit dude, it’s fucked up.”

“I’d rather get migraines, than let the kids get hurt,” Steve admitted, rubbing circles on the palm of Eddie’s hand - he didn’t even really realise he was doing it. 

Eddie shook his head with a smile. “Living up to the idea of being a hero, aren’t you big boy?”

If Steve wasn’t so tired, he’d have protested the idea of him being a hero. “Everyone else was trying to save the world, and I was the babysitter. I had to.”

There was something in the way that Eddie was looking at Steve, something that told him he was wrong. “Do you get migraines a lot?”

Sighing, Steve shrugged. “Often enough, I guess,” he admitted, wondering why Eddie was being so nice about it. They’d gotten close since Vecna, but Steve wouldn’t have said they bonded in the same way he and Robin did; it was more in the aftermath, an unavoidable need to let the kids be teenagers for once, that forced them to be friends. 

Whilst he couldn’t see a time without Eddie, not after everything, he hadn’t thought Eddie much cared about him. Steve was used to being tolerated, rather than liked. 

“I’m not - haven’t ever been really - good at anything, besides getting hit one too many times,” he joked, laughing as if it was all a distant memory. He shook his head. “Now, you.”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “What about me, Harrington?”

“You handling this shit well?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

“Am I a god?” Eddie asked, snorting. “No, Steve, but as we’ve established, no one really is.”

Steve patted his shoulder, offering Eddie a return on his offer to talk. “I’d say I’m a good listener, but I’m literally partially deaf,” he joked, and Eddie chuckled, leaning against Steve. 

“I’m not about to unleash on you, Harrington, not when you’ve got a migraine, not after you've just said some emotional shit, man,” Eddie sighed, his shoulders lowering as Steve ran fingers through the others hair - he made a reminder to teach Eddie his hair routine at some point because damn his hair was not as soft as it looked. 

“I’m offering because I don’t mind,” Steve stressed, even though his eyes still had a dull aching. 

Eddie shrugged. “What is there to say about watching people die?”

“I wouldn’t know,” Steve says, and Eddie tilting his head toward him, eyebrows stitching together. “I’ve never seen anyone die Eddie, not as you have, not so directly.”

“Oh,” Eddie breathed, licking his lips. “Well, I don’t recommend it,” he joked, unable to bring himself to smile. “She was - she was nice to me, Steve, in a way no one really had been, not for a long time, and she needed help,” he said, twisting his rings. “But I’m just a drug dealer - or was anyway - so when she asked for something stronger, I didn’t really want to give it to her and have her just, leave, I was gonna try to talk her out of it, show it to her, but then, I don’t know, tell her that it won’t help, not really.

“I wanted to tell her that if she was running from something, drugs? Not the way to go,” he continued, laughing bitterly. “I mean, look at me, right? Then she just -” his voice cut off, and Steve pulled Eddie in closer, tighter. “She didn’t deserve to die, Steve, she just needed a friend - I think I needed one too, and I thought -” Eddie took a shaky breath. “I thought, maybe we’d be friends, and then - god Steve, the sound of her bones, it was -” Eddie crumpled, his breathing uneven. 

Steve wished the upside down didn’t exist; he really did. “I’m sorry, Eddie. I’m so fucking sorry.”

"People still look at me like I brought the devil to Hawkins," Eddie snorted, rubbing at his eyes. "And sometimes I think hey - maybe they're not far off. I mean, only the devil incarnate could have my luck, right?" he grinned, but it didn't reach his eyes. "I used to think it was funny, leaned into it and shit, but - I dunno know man," he sighed, resting his head against Steve's shoulder.

"If you brought the devil to Hawkins, then maybe he's not a bad guy," Steve said, running a hand through Eddie's hair. "'Cause what happened was nothing you did Eds, nothing."

Eddie watched Steve, with a mix of emotion that he couldn’t quite place. “Well,” he said, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes before pushing himself off Steve. “As I can’t offer a joint for our sorrows Harrington, may I instead offer you the start to your music education?”

Raising an eyebrow, Steve smiled. “I’m recovering from a migraine over here Munson, now’s not the time for your metal music.” 

“Who says I only own metal?” Eddie asked. Steve raised his eyebrows, knowing for a fact that Eddie owned strictly punk and metal. 

“Me, I do.”

Eddie scoffed, rolling off the bed with a thump. He jumped back to his feet, raising a hand to the sky. “I refuse this, this… slander to the noble Munson name,” he declared, and Steve knew he was grinning. “Whilst I most certainly think metal is the greatest, and for reputation reasons, I refuse to buy much else,” he continued, pacing back and forth. This was Eddie’s way of trying to lighten the mood, trying to get them both to smile. 

“Gotta keep up that golden reputation of yours,” Steve grinned, avoiding the shirt Eddie threw at him.

“No lip from you, Mr. I only listen to the radio and what Robin plays at work,” Eddie shivered and Steve bit back his laughter. “Wayne doesn’t listen to metal, he listens to classical music, so,” he said, throwing his arms wide as he bowed his head. “I’m going to start there.”

“Really?”

Eddie shrugged. “I thought you might need the distraction, and you’re right,” he grinned, flicking through his records. “As much as I love metal, you have a migraine, and I actually want you to like metal.”

Steve matched Eddie’s grin. “Well then, classical it is.”

-----

Family Video was as empty as ever on a Monday morning. With the kids back at school, and the adults back at work, Steve got the wonderful job of rewinding the tapes that hadn’t been rewound before returning. Personally, Steve was with Robin, they should really start giving out warnings to those who didn’t rewind them because Steve would rather have to wear the Scoops Ahoy uniform again, than deal with these fucking tapes… alright so he wouldn’t, but that was beside the point. 

Robin had been pretending to organise the store all morning, not wanting Keith to try and drag her into doing something else (Steve couldn’t blame her), and Steve had been doing the same monotonous movements since he clocked in. She kept glancing toward him, and it looked as if she was practising a conversation - Steve wondered when she would decide she was prepared enough, and blurt it out. 

There were only a few things it could be about. Either, she had asked out Vickie (unlikely), or she had heard about his migraine last night. It was a five-minute drive from Eddie’s to Robin’s, which gave plenty of time for Eddie to have called ahead and told her. 

Steve couldn’t remember falling asleep at Eddies - a hazy memory of violins, hands brushing through his hair, and a soft t-shirt - but he woke with a start, to Eddie, asking if he wanted to go into work, or if he was calling sick. If it had been one of the busy days, Steve wouldn’t have risked it, but it was Monday, the second quietest day of the week. 

Eddie told him he could wear another t-shirt, offering a Black Sabbath one - Steve definitely knew that band, after all it had Ozzy, the bat guy. Eddie had also insisted Steve wear sunglasses (he always had a pair in his car anyway), mentioning that they might help with the mild ache from the bright lights in Family Video - Steve just grinned, happy Eddie had noticed.

It was only once he was in his car that he realised he had put on Eddie’s jacket without thinking. He would have returned it but he was going to be late if he did and Keith didn’t like him as it was.

It was only when he took the jacket off, needing to wear his work vest, that he noticed something in the pocket - a cassette tape. He couldn’t help but grin when he noticed the scribbled writing on the back and side, ‘for s.h. from eddie’, ‘side a - an introduction’, ‘side b - This. is music stevie’ and it had little drawing of bats (the animals and the nail-bat Steve had), as well as little lightning bolts in red and orange.

Maybe Eddie had wanted Steve to wear his jacket…

He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it; brushing his fingers against his pocket to remind him it was there, or taking it out to feel the plastic casing and stare at the songs. It was clear that Eddie had asked around their friends for some of the records - there was no way Eddie owned anything by The Cure, even if he didn’t mind their music, and Robin liked Siouxsie and the Banshees. 

Eddie had tried to fit the start of the mixtape with the stuff he knew Steve liked - or what he had said he enjoyed at least. 

God that was not helping his crush. 

Will had been listening to The Cure one day, with a song that Steve had never quite forgotten. The kids wanted to go to the arcade, and Will had called shotgun, simply by being the first Steve picked up, so he got to pick the music. Will hadn’t mentioned much about the band, but Steve had noticed he was connected to them. He was never sure how to act around Will, with Jonathan being not only his older brother, but having some parental instincts towards the kid too (he didn’t want to encroach with his own need to protect them all). Yet, when Will started to hum along to ‘Boys Don’t Cry’, Steve saw a moment of reflection in Will, and he asked about the song.

There was a moment of confusion, but Will was happy to explain what he liked about The Cure, and how he liked to listen to this song whenever he got angry, or was feel stupidly happy.

He couldn’t believe Eddie had remembered Steve mentioning The Cure; it had been a brief conversation, if it even counted as a conversation. 

It made him feel fuzzy inside - warm. 

“What’s got you smiling dingus?” Robin asked, leaning her arms against the counter. He hadn’t heard her approach.

Steve wondered how Robin would respond to knowing about the mixtape. “Er - I just love my job?”

“Oh Steve,” Robin began, pushing herself to sit on the counter. “Poor, poor, Steve,” she continued, shaking her head. “You truly are a dingus if you think I’d believe that.”

Sticking out his tongue, Steve waved the mixtape in front of her. “Guess you’ll never know now,” he shrugged, leaning back in his chair. 

Robin rolled her eyes. “Is this because you hang out with children? Is that why you are a child?” she asked, kicking her feet back and forth. “If it’s about a mixtape, then it’s about Eddie,” she smirked. “And if it’s about Eddie, then it’s about,” she glanced around, making sure the store was empty. “It’s about how you’re a sad bisexual who wants nothing more than to make-out with Eddie Munson.”

Steve groaned, sinking as far down as his chair would let him. “You’re a real piece of work Buckley, hope you know that.”

“Thanks, I do try,” she added, a little too cheerfully. “Let me see, let me see,” she insisted, jumping off the counter to grab it from him. 

“Careful,” Steve warned, lightly hitting the top of her head with the cassette. “I could remind you that you want nothing more than to make-out with Vickie, you know,” he grumbled, handing it over. 

Robin shrugged. “You could, but you’d be wrong,” she said, her attention no longer on their conversation, and Steve needed to ask some questions about that - Robin had been pining for Vickie since the start of the school year. 

As her eyes darted across each song, her smile grew wider and wider until it was a face-splitting grin, and Steve was a little concerned. “What?” he asked, not knowing if he wanted the answer. 

“Nothing,” Robin replied, still grinning as she handed back the tape. “It just…”

Steve didn’t catch the last of what she said. “What?” 

Robin flicked his ear. “The songs, dingus,” she answered, rolling her eyes. 

“What about them?” he repeated, and this time she seemed to understand that he hadn’t heard her. 

She shrugged. “The songs say a lot, that’s all.”

Rubbing his ear, Steve raised an eyebrow. “What? That the guy likes post-punk and metal?” 

“Okay, first of all I’m surprised you even know about post-punk, much less know that some of the bands on that tape are post-punk,” she said, and Steve wondered if anyone thought he ever paid attention when people spoke to him. “Second, if I need to explain it to you, then you are a lost cause, Harrington.”

Steve frowned. “The fuck does that mean Buckley?”

Robin just grinned, sitting back on the counter. “You’ll figure it out, dingus, I believe there’s more to you than your hair.”

Resisting the urge to push her off the counter, Steve returned the mixtape to the safety of his pocket. “So what’s this about you not wanting to make-out with Vickie anymore?” he asked, and Robin rolled her head, stretching her neck. 

“I don’t know, it’s like, sometimes she seems interested, sometimes she seems completely straight and she knows I’m a lesbian, because - you remember that whole thing? Where she was asking me how to show someone who told you they were queer that you didn’t mind they were, but -”

“She wasn’t asking it directly because she didn’t want to out her friend?” Steve asked. “Yeah ‘cause when you figured out what she was actually asking, you came out to her in a panic, told her to talk to me,” he added dryly, raising an eyebrow. “Which looking back - wasn’t exactly the safest thing to do, Buckley.”

Robin sighed. “I know it wasn’t my finest moment Steve, but like - I don’t want to be someone’s friend that you sometimes do romantic things with but you refuse to admit you’re into each other, you know? That’s like, endless pining… and that makes her sound awful, she’s not, but I guess that after the earthquake we got close and I thought, this might be your chance Buckley! And she did seem into me right?” she asked, taking a breath as she glanced at Steve for input. 

Steve nodded. “Absolutely, she seemed into you.”

“Exactly! And I thought I was being super clear. I mean, as clear as I can be in Hawkins. We cuddled in her bed, Steve, in her bed, I thought for sure we were going to talk about it, talk about being into each other, but when I tried to bring it up, I’m not kidding, Steve - she mentioned how she was going on a date with this guy,” she finished, eyes wide as she waited for Steve’s reaction. 

“Holy shit.” They were wrong? Or perhaps they’d misjudged something? “Well shit Robin.”

“Yeah,” she nodded. “This is why being a lesbian sucks,” she complained, throwing herself back onto the counter. 

“Don’t let Keith catch you lying down,” Steve reminded, smiling as Robin flipped him the bird. 

She sighed. “I just want, for once in my sad lesbian life, for a girl to make it clear if we’re platonic or not.”

Steve’s heart ached. “It’ll happen Robs, there’s a whole world outside of Hawkins right?”

“And I’m stuck here for at least another year,” she reminded him, forcing herself up to look him in the eye. “I still think that if we combined, we’d be unstoppable.”

“If we combined, I think we’d accidentally cause some world-ending disaster,” Steve admitted, shaking his head. 

Robin snorted. “Good job we know a bunch of rag-tag teens who like saving the world,” she added, raising her hands when Steve shot her a look. “I know, don’t endanger your kids. Don’t worry Momma Harrington, I would never.”

Steve rolled his eyes, knowing for a fact that she let Dustin drive his car last week (in an empty car park, but it’s the principle). “Are you going to help with these tapes?” he asked, praying she would help him with them. 

“Fine,” Robin groaned, pulling up another chair. “But just because I can only pretend to organise the shelves so much before Keith notices I’m not doing anything.”

Steve grinned. “It’s okay to admit you like me Robin, you’re allowed to.”

“I will tell Eddie about the Tears for Fears incident,” she threatened, folding her arms as she smirked. 

“Lies and slander,” Steve said, staring at Robing for a few seconds. He shuddered. “Please don’t.”

Robin laughed. “Eddie knows you as Steve Harrington, part-time mom and babysitter, I don’t think much is going to change how he views you.”

Steve hummed, not believing her for a second, and was about to call her out on her antics when the door chimed. “Welcome to Family Video,” Steve called out, not even standing. “Let us know if you need any help.” Robin raised an eyebrow at his customer service spiel. She liked to avoid the customers unless they came to her. 

“Looking for someone who works here,” a familiar voice called. “Steve Harrington, known for his hair and babysitting skills.”

Steve snorted, meeting Eddie’s eyes as he sat on the counter - despite Steve telling him multiple times that if Keith sees him, he will get banned. He was in a tank top again, a band t-shirt that he cut the sleeves from. “Might know him, why?” he asked, going along with it. 

Eddie grinned, placing a hand over his heart. “Well, you see, I need someone to watch over my six kids.” He tried to say more, but ended up in a fit of giggles instead. Dear god - if he was remembering the Winnebago conversation Steve gave Nancy, he might just never show his face again.

“Alright Munson,” Steve grinned, going to stand in front of him. “What do you really want?”

Something flashed across Eddie’s face before his grin softened into a smile. “You Stevie, took something of mine this morning.”

“And what would that be?” Steve asked, leaning forward. 

Robin chipped in from beside him. “I’m afraid Steve Harrington takes no responsibility for the loss, damage, or stealing of people's hearts, Munson,” she shrugged, patting Eddie on the shoulder. 

Eddie blinked, bursting in laughter and throwing his head back. Steve couldn’t help but smile. “Well, Buckley, it’s a good thing I mean my leather jacket then - look at my arms Steve, they’re cold.”

“Don’t wear a sleeveless shirt then?” Steve said, raising an eyebrow as Eddie stuck his tongue out. “I was going to bring it back after my shift,” he replied, as if Eddie was ridiculous for coming all the way to his place of work - but in a I’m sincerely fucked thinking about you so I’m grinning like a fool sort of way.

“That’s what they all say, sweetheart,” Eddie accused, poking Steve’s shoulder. “You don’t need an excuse to visit me.”

Steve knew Eddie was teasing him, but he shook his head regardless. “I know Eddie.”

That seemed to make him falter a little, and Steve’s smile split into a grin. 

Robin cleared her throat, in a manner that wasn’t subtle in the slightest. “I’m still here. Maybe don’t flirt in Family Video, not exactly The queer hangout.”  

Young Steve would never imagine hanging out with a gay man and a lesbian, much less be queer himself. The most awkward few seconds of his life had been when Eddie came out to Steve - in another fucking restroom he might add. Eddie rambled about getting hurt, and Robin saying he was cool with her, other lesbian shit too - so, in what can only be described as a bisexual panic, Steve blurted out that he was queer too, wondering if this was going to become a common occurrence.

It made their relationship less tense, with Eddie no doubt being relieved that Steve wasn’t about to punch Eddie for who he was, but it was still weird, something there that neither wanted to pick up and examine. 

Neither Steve nor Eddie corrected Robin when she said they were flirting. “Well, it is when we’re here,” Steve shrugged, and he thought Eddie might choke - Robin simply rolled her eyes. 

“Not the point Harrington,” she said, raising an eyebrow at Eddie. 

“All the queers in Hawkins, together in one place,” Eddie sighed dreamily. “A church's worst nightmare, or a church's dream?” 

Steve raised an eyebrow. “Little of both?”

Eddie snorted. “Buckley’s right though, probably shouldn’t announce our queerness in the middle of Family Video, even if no one is around.”

“Probably?” Robin asked, raising an eyebrow. “Definitely shouldn’t, Hawkins isn’t exactly friendly, you know?”

That they did. 

“So my jacket,” Eddie said, changing the subject. 

“It’s in the back, if you want me to get it, or I can bring it to you later, like I planned,” Steve said, catching Robin as she grinned between the two of them. He shot her a glare. 

Eddie grinned. “If those are your demands Majesty, then so be it.”

“You’re an idiot,” Steve replied, shaking his head. 

“I'll have you know, I'm a high-school graduate now sweetheart,” Eddie added, his eyes shining as Steve blanked on how to respond. 

He blinked. “Alright Munson, shoo, you’re distracting us from our work.”

“Because we are so busy,” Robin mumbled, shooting Steve a knowing smirk. 

“You saying I’m distracting Stevie?” Eddie grinned, leaning forward. 

Steve folded his arms, raising an eyebrow. “You’ve unleashed Steve’s babysitter side,” Robin teased, and Steve knew exactly what she was talking about - his posture; she saw him put a dish towel over his shoulder one time (and took a polaroid of him too), and now it’s a thing.

Eddie’s eyes widened. “Oh my god, I see it Buckley, I really do.”

“Alright, alright,” Steve grumbled, feeling his face turning pink. “You know, you’re the co-parent - as the kids keep reminding me.”

Eddie shot up, like he’d remembered something important. “But I’m the cool Dad, you know?” he grinned, placing a hand on his cheek. “Your Mother and I, we tried to make it work, but he’s got such awful taste in music,” he sniffled, pretending to cry. “You’ve no idea kiddos, it’s so bad - he likes Wham! - that was too much for me.”

Steve rolled his eyes, trying his best to look offended, but his face wouldn’t allow him to do anything other than smile. “Out Munson, before you and Robin become my worst nightmare.”

Eddie snorted. “Like we already aren’t, big boy,” he grinned, patting Steve on the head. “You’d better visit later, Steve Harrington, I want my jacket back.”

The door closed and the two watched Eddie wander away, and Robin thwacked him on the arm. 

“Ow- what the fuck Buckley?” Steve asked, wondering what he’d done wrong. 

“You’re a dingus, a dumb dingus,” she insisted, muttering something he couldn’t hear, before turning back to rewinding tapes. 

-----

All relationships are built on the promise of equal footing - at least, that’s what Robin had told him. Relationships, platonic, romantic, familial, all of them were supposedly about the promise of give and take, but Steve wasn’t a fan of promises, because they weren’t something he could hold. He could talk all he wanted about everything that he’s feeling: all the twisted and benign pain in his gut, all the nights of insomnia where Steve would stare at his own reflection, as if waiting for it to flicker back to his sixteen-year-old self; however, the promise of that person giving him the same level of vulnerability back, seemed so small. 

After all, why would anybody come to talk to King Harrington about their problems. 

It was why he made himself into someone people would talk to; why he leaned so heavily into the Momma Steve jokes, because even if they had the high ground, it was nice to be relied upon for once. He didn’t think relationships were about equal footing, but the promise of being there for that person. 

As Steve was driving Robin home after their shift, she hit the dashboard with a fist, eyes wide and manic. “Watch it Robin, don’t dent my car,” he complained, brushing a hand over the dash, hoping she hadn’t left any damage. 

“You, you distracted me,” she accused, pointing a finger at him.

Steve blinked. “Distracted you from what? When?”

Robin huffed, throwing her head back slightly as she twisted in her seat to face him, ignoring Steve’s noises of protest. She waved a hand. “If we crash, I break a neck - this is important Steve,” she insisted, and Steve could only sigh, wondering when he had started being unable to tell his family no. “You had a migraine.” It wasn’t a question, but it wasn’t said with malice either - it was just a fact.

Clicking his tongue, Steve ran a finger through his hair. “Yes Buckley, I had a migraine, and yes I stayed at Eddie’s, and no,” he began, casting his eyes between her and the road. “Nothing happened because I had a migraine, so I wasn't really thinking about flirting with Eddie.” 

Robin hummed, leaning back into her seat. “He’s definitely into you though.”

“Honestly Robs, it doesn’t matter either way,” Steve muttered softly, his eyes fixed on the road, even though he knew she was staring at him. “Robin?” he asked, gripping the wheel until his knuckles were white. 

“What, Steve?” she asked, her voice that subtle, soft tone she saves for when she knows the conversation is serious, or when she wants to be a little bit less (Steve always has to be careful about which it is, because Robin shouldn’t be less of herself). 

Steve sighed. “You, you still get nightmares right? About Starcourt?”

Robin shifted in her seat, and Steve noticed she was fiddling with her bracelets. “Do you?” she deflected, though it gave Steve his answer. 

“I drank,” he admitted, knowing she knew his relationship with alcohol. “And then I felt fuzzy, spacey you know?” he continued, not wanting to hear her disappointment. “Like I’d been drugged again.”

He waited for her to scoff, for Robin to tell him that he shouldn’t have drunk to begin with, but she didn’t. “I tried drinking at New Year’s,” she said instead. “Mom always lets me have a glass of wine on New Years, has since I was fifteen, but as soon as I felt it kick, I felt so sick, and then I was hunched in front of those shitty toilets again, spilling my guts to you, telling you I - that I like boobies.

“I hated that I told you because this is Hawkins and if I’m honest, Steve, I didn’t know you then; it was such a stupid thing to do, because you could have decided to just - hate crime me,” she breathed, rolling her head around. “And yeah, I took a risk telling Vickie, but she had given some sort of indication that she’d be okay with it - you? I’d have never done it sober, Steve - never.”

“Why didn’t you - you never said anything,” Steve replied, unsure of what else to say. Was it awful that a part of him was happy she felt the same? That he hadn’t been the only one to let something slip-through in a drug-induced haze?

Robin chuckled. “Steve,” she smiled, giving him a look she saved for when he was being an idiot, but in the way that made her love him. “You deal with everybody’s problems, every single one of your kids, but you have your own too. I didn’t want to add to that, not when I didn’t have to.”

Steve felt his stomach eating at itself, collapsing in a way that a tent does in a storm. “But you don’t have to not talk to me Robs,” he mumbled, blinking a little too fast. 

“I didn’t keep it to myself Harrington, don’t worry,” she grinned, reaching out to pat his cheek. “I have Nancy, even if she doesn’t know I’m a lesbian, because honestly, right now? Telling three people in Hawkins is more than enough for me,” she shrugged, and Steve wasn’t sure if he had seen her blush or not. “We bonded by proxy-trauma,” she explained, twisting her hands around. “I suppose, until Vecna, then we bonded through shared trauma.”

“Much stronger,” Steve joked, making Robin burst into laughter. 

“Well, I didn’t tell Nancy about Tammy Thompson on the floor of the Starcourt toilets,” Robin snorted, patting Steve on the head. “So you’re still my Platonic trauma buddy.”

Steve raised an eyebrow. “So is Nancy your Non-platonic trauma buddy?” he asked, still managing to deflect Robin’s questions about him - he must be creating a new fine art. 

Robin rolled her eyes. “You’re deflecting Steve.”

Never mind, it wasn’t an art.

“I told the Russians about Dustin,” he said, knowing there was no way around it. He refused to look at anything other than the road in front of him, the houses blinking in and out of his peripheral, and the families stretching out in the dying sun. 

“We were drugged, Harrington,” Robin answered, and Steve didn’t like how Robin said ‘Harrington’, the same way he didn’t like how Eddie said it the day before. “It’s not your fault.”

“I know, I know, but I just - “ he tried to explain, feeling his irritation bubbling and biting at him. He wasn’t sure how to explain, because he did know, but it was like he couldn’t believe himself, like he was lying or forgetting something important.

Robin tapped her fingers against the dashboard, and Steve noticed the exact moment she realised something, because she scrunched her nose. “You hate yourself.”

“No,” Steve refused, shaking his head… because he didn’t, right? “No, I don’t hate - no - just…” he sighed, wondering if this was something he should be thinking about as he drove. “Maybe a little,” he said, never happier as they approached the Buckley residence. He parked outside, eyes glued to the wheel. “It’s not like I outed myself. I mean - Shit Robs - I was a douchebag in high school, I don’t expect to be the kind of person you’d want to come out to, not with how I used to be -”

“Stop it.” Robin was looking at him funny, he didn’t need to take his eyes off the road to know that. She sighed. “Then I’m loving you until you can love yourself,” she said, and when Steve snapped his head toward her, she simply shrugged. “You’re my guy Steve, my soulmate, my Platonic with a capital ‘P’ guy,” she listed, and Steve couldn’t help but smile. “So until you love yourself, I’ll love you, and until I love myself, you can love me. Deal?” she asked, offering her hand. 

Steve shook his head, wondering when he started surrounding himself with dorks. “Deal Buckley.”

“Pleasure doing business with you Harrington,” she grinned, patting his shoulder. “Now, movie night, tomorrow, your place - I want to use the hot tub.”

“I knew you were only using me for my house,” Steve teased, laughing when Robin scoffed. He knew she was only asking for one because she was worried about him, but that worry went both ways, so maybe it was okay.

“Who else do I know with a whole, entire pool?” she emphasised, using her hands to punctuate each word.

“Compared to half a pool?” he grinned, laughing again when she thwacked his shoulder. 

She leered at him. “For that, I’m picking the movies.”

Steve raised an eyebrow. “You pick them anyway?”

“Then you’re getting off easy here Harrington, don’t push it,” she said, getting out of the car. “Seriously, your place, make sure you’ve got popcorn.”

“Always do, Robin.”

“Love you,” she added, before closing the door. 

Steve had never felt it more.

-----

Despite what he might say, Steve wasn’t against being a chaperone for the kids - at times he was happy to simply be out of the house - but if there was one thing he could do without, it was being asked last minute to drive the kids to the arcade; it was always the arcade. He would say no, tell the kids to pull a ride from Eddie, or use the bikes they seem to have forgotten they own, but they always knew exactly how to get Steve to say yes, and that was to get one of the baby-Byer’s to ask. Steve just couldn’t say no to El or Will - the two had been through enough, he could drive them to and from the arcade.

Robin accused him of being a pushover, but she never meant it, because if she did, she wouldn’t allow Steve to say yes to them in the first place. 

That was the second thing, they always ambushed him either at work, or at his house. 

Which would have been fine if he wasn’t clearly wearing Eddie’s t-shirt at work today… in his defence, Eddie had thrown it at him when Steve brought back his jacket, claiming that he may as well add some style to his closet, as if Steve didn’t own anything nice - he owned more than polo shirts, even if Dustin and Robin would say otherwise. Eddie’s clothes were soft, what was he supposed to do, not wear it? And Eddie had been ‘stealing’ Steve’s sweaters for a few months now anyway, so it was only fair that Steve got to wear a few t-shirts and jackets every so often… right? 

Even Steve felt like he was pushing it with that one, after all, Eddie’s band t-shirts were special to him; they held a value that could only be seen by Eddie himself, but everyone knew that value was there, even if they didn’t see it themselves. Steve wasn’t sure what it said that Eddie wanted Steve to wear them - maybe it was part of his music education. 

It was as he was crouching to put back some of their recent tape returns that Will pushed the doors open. It was always a quiet closing shift on Tuesday, mainly because he didn’t have Robin to keep him company. “Baby-Byers,” Steve said, trying to sound indifferent, but smiling instead. “What is it you shitheads need now?” he asked with a sigh.

Will grinned sheepishly. “Hey Steve,” he said, waving as Steve raised an eyebrow, glancing to the windows to see the rest of the kids watching through the glass. “Your… right?” he asked.

“Sorry, didn’t get all that,” he said, turning to make sure Will was closer to his right ear. 

“Your shift finishes soon, right?” Will repeated.

He wasn’t wrong, but Steve had to wonder if the kids had memorised his schedule - god he might cry if they had. He nodded. “It might.”

Will rubbed his wrist. “Can you give us a ride back from the arcade? Please?” he asked, his eyes wide. 

As he said, it was always about the arcade. “Where am I dropping you guys off?” he relented with a sigh, pushing himself to his feet and dusting his hands.

Grinning, Will shot the others a thumbs up. “We’re going to Mike’s,” he said, his ears turning pink - the kids crush wasn’t subtle, or maybe it wasn’t if you were also queer (he had been waiting for Will to tell him though, hinting he’d be okay with it). 

Steve nodded, ruffling the kid’s hair as he passed by, heading back toward the counter. “I’ll be out in ten, think you gremlins can be good ‘till then?” he grinned, chuckling as Will rolled his eyes. 

“I’ll try not to steal anything,” he replied dryly - Steve loved when Will was sarcastic, it meant he was relaxed. “Can’t promise El won’t.”

Steve hummed. “Tell her to stick to gum at least - something small,” he said knowing El would never steal - not anymore. “Now scram, or else I’ll be longer,” he insisted, making a shoo-ing gesture with his hands. 

“Bye Steve,” Will called out, and Steve watched as the kids all waved from the windows, and he waved back, unable to stop himself from laughing - there were only four of them today: El, Max, Mike, and Will. A quieter bunch without Lucas or Dustin, but four was the max amount of people he could fit in his car anyway (safely at least). Although, he said they were quieter but if Mike and Will got in a heated discussion about D&D, or they all decided to sing along to his Bowie and ABBA tapes as he drove, they were probably the loudest kids in the neighbourhood. 

He liked it when they were loud. It was something he hadn’t been allowed to be when he was their age, or even when he was a kid. It was only if he was having a migraine that he didn’t want them to be loud, but it was as if the kids had this sixth sense - it being, knowing when Steve was about to get a migraine - because they would always quieten down as his migraines started. 

He locked up Family Video, thankful the kids had asked him for a lift when he saw the sun setting on the edge of the buildings. No one was exactly comfortable with their children cycling in the dark anymore. The four were hovering by his car, bickering amongst themselves about something that must have been insignificant because they got quiet when they saw Steve. “Evening gremlins,” he nodded. “And Max,” he added, noting the smirk she shot the others. 

Mike scoffed. “Why are we gremlins, but Max is Max?” 

“Because Max is my favourite,” he shrugged, only saying that to make Mike roll his eyes. They all knew he didn’t really have a favourite, but it was fun to pretend it was Max, because everyone would understand if she was his favourite. 

Max grinned, turning her wheels to look Mike in the eyes. “I’m just better than you Mike, deal with it.”

Mike rolled his eyes again as Will patted his shoulder, trying to console him. “Max is not wrong,” El nodded, and Steve bit back his laughter at how blunt she was - a couple weeks of breaking up and El was ruthless. 

“Steve, I'm being bullied and it’s your fault,” Mike complained, as El helped Max into the car.

Steve snorted, folding Max’ wheelchair to fit it in the back. “You’ve got Will to defend you,” he said, nodding toward Will whose eyes stared back at Steve in mild panic before he nodded along slowly. 

“Sure, you’re cool too Mike,” he smiled, rubbing his arm as he did, and it was endearing to watch. “But I’m not picking sides in a fight, Max is terrifying, sorry,” Will grinned, and Mike sighed, seeming to admit defeat. 

“I’d definitely beat you in a fight,” Max said as they joined her in the car, Max seeming to have called shotgun at some point before Steve arrived. “Can we listen to Bowie?” she asked Steve quietly, opening the glove compartment. 

“Knock yourself out kid,” Steve replied, matching her volume, before turning to face those in the back seats. “You shits all got your seatbelts on?” he asked, the intro to ‘Changes’ flooding into the car as the three nodded. “Good, to the Wheeler household we go, I guess.”

The four were silent for a minute - terrifying if Steve was honest - before they glanced at each other, coming to a silent agreement and the three in the back glanced toward Max, who glanced at Eddie’s t-shirt, and then at Steve. “You definitely don’t listen to Dio,” she pointed out, narrowing her eyes as if trying to analyse Steve. It made him squirm, even though she was nearly five years younger than him. “But you know who does?” 

“Eddie. Eddie does,” Mike answered, glaring at Steve in the rear-view mirror. “How did he even let you wear one of his band shirts? He worships those shirts,” he frowned.

Will rolled his eyes, sharing a look with El, who was smiling like she knew something the rest of them didn’t, but choosing to stay silent. 

Steve clicked his tongue. “Maybe he likes me better than you,” he shrugged, still feeling the crawling scrutiny of Max’s narrowed stare. 

Max smirked. “A lot better, right?” 

Damn, Steve wished, but Max didn’t even know he was into guys. “Maybe I’m just a great friend, Mayfield,” he replied, watching for her reaction. 

She simply rolled her eyes. “But you’re boring.”

“Hey! Be nicer to your mother,” Steve scolded, laughing when Max flipped him the bird. 

“Don’t swear at your mother, Maxine,” Mike grinned, trying to repay Max for her teasing earlier. 

El furrowed her eyebrows, shifting in her seat to look from Steve to Will, hoping one of them would explain. “But Steve is not Max’s mother, I do not understand.”

“We’re just making fun of Steve,” Will whispered, although everyone could still hear him. “Because he acts like our collective mom,” he added, as El nodded slowly, seeming to get it. 

“Because he is nice and helps us to get places, right?” she whispered back, and Steve was sure he was grinning a little too wide. “And we can go to him for help?”

“Right,” Max nodded. “Steve is… good, I guess.”

He’d take ‘good’. 

“Keep singing my praises like that Mayfield, and I might not be able to fit my head out the car,” Steve replied dryly, leaning his arm against the window to drive one handed. “Alright we’re almost there, any of you shitheads need me to chauffeur tomorrow? Or do I get the day off?” he asked, raising his eyebrows as he glanced at each of them, pulling up alongside the Wheeler residence. 

Will smiled. “I think we’re good, thank you Steve,” he nodded, staring at the others until they thanked Steve too - he didn’t need them to though; he was happy to give them lifts wherever, whenever. 

The three in the back climbed out, Mike bickering with Will about something related to what Eddie’s new D&D campaign would be about, and El waving at Steve and Max, who gave her a small wave back. “We staying in the car Mayfield?” Steve asked, as ‘Life on Mars?’ faded out and ‘Kooks’ began to fill the silence instead. She nodded, staring at the other three as they headed in through the basement. “Where we heading then Mad Max?” he asked, and she smiled at the nickname. 

“Can we go to yours?” she asked, still staring out the front. 

Steve wanted to ask why, he always did, but she’d tell him if she wanted to. “Robin’s coming over for a movie night, is that still where you want to go?”

Max looked back at Steve, taking a moment to think it over. “Sure,” she shrugged. 

“Cool,” he nodded, shifting the car into gear and pulling away from the Wheeler house. “The others know you weren’t staying?”

Max nodded, sinking down in the seat until she could rest her cheek below the window. “So, are you and Eddie dating?”

Steve froze, letting out a choked sounding laugh. “Is - are you - is this because of the t-shirt?” he asked, his voice anything but calm. 

She snorted. “We all wanted to ask.”

Well… Steve wasn’t sure what to say about that… or what that said about Eddie and Steve. “Well, we’re not dating, so you can pass that along.”

“You want to be though, don’t you?” she asked, still staring out the window as Bowie sang on. 

Steve clicked his tongue. “If I did?” 

Max shrugged, lifting her head from the window. “I’d say you could do better; Mike would say Eddie could do better, Will and Dustin would probably freak - in a good way - and Lucas and El would just be happy, I think,” she explained, and Steve knew she was trying to say none of them would care that he was into guys - he was grateful to her for that, it was nice. 

“Good to know,” he said, smiling at Max in-between watching the road. “And thanks man.”

Nodding, Max returned to staring out the window. “Steve?” she asked, and he hummed in response. “I just wanted to say, that - I, er - I don’t want to die.” Steve glanced over, unsure if he should say anything back. “I think I used to, but… the others are too stupid, they’d be lost without me, you know?”

If Steve was smarter, wiser, better, maybe he would have said something encouraging here; maybe he would have lifted Max’s spirits, let her know that she deserves to be alive, and that she should enjoy life, but Steve isn’t a smart, wise, better man. 

So he nodded. “We all would be, Mad Max. We’d never have won without you.”

And he hoped that was enough.

Steve knew some of what Max had gone through, spoken in single sentences as she sat in his kitchen, or half shrugs as Steve asked why she didn’t want to go home.

He knew what Billy was like; he knew the sorts of things Billy had done to her, when he had still been around - none of it was even remotely nice: the speeding, the manipulating, the abuse of physical power. He knew it had fucked with Max; that sometimes she didn’t want to go home, because she was worried Billy would be there even though he’s dead, or because she didn’t want to deal with her mom, or just because she wanted to be around a friendlier face. 

Sometimes she didn’t say why she didn’t want to go home. 

Steve didn’t need an explanation; he hated his own house too, even if it was for different reasons. An empty house wasn’t exactly inviting.

So even if Steve didn’t fully understand, he understood enough.

“You want to stay the night?” he asked, pulling into the driveway.

Max nodded, and offered him a small smile. 

Robin was standing outside, her bike leaning beside her against the house as she swayed back and forth on the heels of her feet. She pushed her hands into the pockets of her jacket, the one she had spent hours trying to sew patches on before calling Steve to complain about the pin pricks in her fingers from the needle. She kicked a leg forward as she turned toward the door. 

Steve made to get out of the car. “You know where the spare key is, you don’t need to stand outside,” he called out, leaning his arm over the top of the car door.

She flipped him the bird, not even turning around. “Maybe I forgot, okay!” she called back, pushing her hands back into her pockets. 

That seemed more likely than Steve would admit aloud. “You hungry kid?” he asked Max, grabbing her wheelchair from the trunk.

Max shrugged. “A little.”

“You need the chair? Or you good with crutches?” Steve asked, glancing at Robin to see if she’d noticed he had Max with him - it seemed she had. 

“I can walk to the door Steve,” she snarked, raising an eyebrow. 

Steve shook his head, offering her a small smile. “Never said you couldn’t Mayfield, you’re a strong kid, but it’s okay if you need things sometimes,” he said, hoping she already knew that. After Vecna, Max’s legs had been shattered, twisted at angles they really shouldn’t have been in; it was a sight he was glad he hadn’t seen, but he wished he could have made sure Lucas hadn’t seen it either. 

It was a miracle her legs had healed at all, according to the doctors. The bone wouldn’t be the same again, and it was unlikely she’d ever be able to walk very far before her legs flared up in pain - something about nerves being connected to muscles, and bone shards tearing through things and getting stuck, Steve hadn’t really understood all the medical ramblings. Either way, Steve didn’t want her to push herself further than she should - if she needed the rest, then she needed the rest. 

“I see we’ve picked up a stray,” Robin said, raising an eyebrow at the two as they approached. 

Steve shrugged. “They don’t call me Steve ‘The Babysitter’ Harrington for nothing,” he replied, holding the door open for the two of them. 

“No one calls you that dingus,” Robin said, rolling her eyes as she flopped onto the sofa. “God you have the best couches,” she hummed, burying herself deeper as Max snorted, sitting cross legged in the armchair.

“Eddie does sometimes,” he mumbled, dodging the pillow she threw at him. 

“Eddie doesn’t count,” she said, giving him a dead stare.

Steve rolled her eyes. “Why doesn’t Eddie count?”

Robin opened her mouth, but then she glanced at Max. “Because he’s… Eddie,” she replied, as if everything now made sense. 

Max groaned, throwing her head against the back of the armchair. “Because Eddie says it to flirt with you dumbass.”

“Language,” Steve replied without thinking. “Wait… what?” he blinked. “To flirt?”

“You know?” Robin asked Max, eyes widening at the realisation that Steve had come out to one of the kids. 

Max grinned. “Like he can keep anything secret.”

Steve blinked, still thinking about the previous part of the conversation. “To flirt?” 

“Steve, in the nicest way, you’re a dingus, a doofus, a dummy, a - a…” Robin trailed off, circling her hand as she tried to think of something else to say. 

“Dumbass,” Max offered, jutting her head forward. 

Clicking his tongue, Steve shook his head. “Just because you both know about my tiny crush on Eddie, doesn’t mean you can team up against me,” he complained.

Robin blinked, sitting up to stare at Steve. “Tiny?” 

“So movies?” Steve asked, wanting this conversation to finish. “But so help me Buckley, if you picked Breakfast Club again I will -”

“Breakfast Club,” she grinned, pulling the tape from her bag. “What? It’s good, Harrington.” She rolled her eyes. “I won’t take slack from a guy whose favourite movie is Grease”

“It’s good alright?” Steve squeaked, hating that Robin was giving Max blackmail fuel.

Max’s eyes flickered between the two as Robin grinned. “But Breakfast Club, Steve - this is why I pick the movies.”

Max nodded along with Robin. “It is a good movie.”

“It not a bad movie but that doesn’t mean I want to watch it three times a week,” he sighed, knowing he was fighting a losing battle. “You guys want pizza?” 

“Obviously,” Robin replied, as if asking should have been out of the question. “I can’t believe you didn’t come out to Dustin first, that kid's gonna lose his shit.”

Max laughed at that, and Steve was happy to see the kid relaxing. “Oh man, he’s gonna be mad.”

“And he never has to know, right?” Steve asked, raising an eyebrow between the two. “We can let him think he was the first.”

“Yeah, - er - not happening?” Max shook her head. She rolled her eyes. “I’m not losing a chance to prove that I’m clearly smarter than he is.”

Steve sighed but he was smiling as he headed to the phone. You’d think coming out would be less daunting if you’ve fought interdimensional beings birthed from nightmares themselves, but Hawkins wasn’t exactly known for its good views on anything queer, nowhere was right now, and Steve was unable to shake the fear of a bad reaction. 

But yeah he had to tell Dustin before any of the other kids found out. 

-----

Maybe making a mixtape was harder than Steve thought it would be, but in his defence, Eddie’s mixtape was so - fluid - it was an easy listen, even though there were songs that were difficult to get through (he had yet to figure out how to tell Eddie he didn’t really like Metallica, or Dio); Steve never felt as if he’d rather be listening to something else. He was carrying his Walkman everywhere, listening to the tape when he bought groceries, when he was driving to work, whilst he was in the shower; Eddie knew how to make a good mixtape. 

He sort of knew what songs he wanted on Eddie’s mixtape: the Cure (since Eddie kinda liked them), ABBA (because Eddie needed to like them), Duran Duran, Tears for Fears, and of course Hall & Oates (because Steve would never hear the end of it from Eddie, and he wanted to hear Eddie’s music ramblings again). There were a few songs he remembered hearing on the radio that he wanted to find, but even then, sadly, his list wouldn’t even fit on one side of the tape. 

He’d gone through his parents' records, finding a few singles, a few records they’d brought back with them from abroad, or from the cities. He asked Nancy, and Robin, even Will, if he could go through their records. He was slowly but surely collecting a list of songs he knew he liked. His relationship with music wasn’t quite the same as Eddie’s; there wasn’t a clear focus of interest, or an exact genre that Steve wanted to introduce Eddie to.

He knew what he wanted Eddie’s mixtape to say, but he wasn’t sure what bands to use.

Steve wanted to show Eddie what he liked. He wanted to show Eddie the songs that stuck with him, the songs that meant a lot to him because someone he cared about showed it to him: Will liked the Cure and the Smiths because Jonathan had introduced him to them, Robin liked Abba, Altered Images, and Paul Simon for reasons she couldn’t explain but had something to do with her mom, Dustin liked Duran Duran because Suzie listened to them in secret. 

Max had listened to ‘I’m in Love With a German Film Star’ until the tape split in two, and Steve had to buy her another, Mike liked Soft Cell because Will had introduced him to them, but if you asked him, he didn’t really like anything, Lucas wasn’t that into music, but Steve remembered what songs he nodded along to on the radio and he loved Kate Bush. 

Steve wanted this mixtape to tell Eddie how much he means to him, how much he helps Steve without even realising. He wanted this mixtape to tell Eddie how much Steve had grown, because he might not currently like himself, not fully, and he did find it difficult to know if someone saw him as a person, or if they saw him as Steve Harrington. 

He wasn’t sure if it was a good idea - he might as well be confessing - but it felt right.