Okay Okay, The People Have Been Heard, Part 2 Of The Accidental Baby Acquisition Thing (part 1)

For the fic writers, Eddie Munsons car is a 1977 GMC G2500 Gaucho

The first time Wayne meets Steve Harrington, he is nine years old and it's Career Day.

Every year a bunch of people crowd into the gym to tell the kids what they do for a living. This year, Wayne drew the short straw and was sent to represent the plant he works at.

He wasn't expecting his measly poster board to attract a lot of attention compared to the other booths with their models and hangouts. So, it's a little surprising when a kid with big eyes and wild hair marches straight up to him and asks, "What do you do?"

"Plant work."

The kid tilted his head, "Like a gardener?"

"More like an electrician."

The kid stood up a little straighter. His eyes went a little wider the way that his nephew's eyes do when he was interested in something, "Like lightbulbs and wires?"

"Yeah," Wayne answered, and then was immediately assaulted by a series of questions.

The questions were specific like the kid had read a book on electrical work but hadn't quite wrapped his head around it. It made Wayne think of Eddie, many miles away with Al, and all his many weird special interests. He smiled but then the kid asked, "But what if you can't turn the electricity off first? Will you die? I'm Steve, by the way."

"Hi, Steve," Wayne said and then made it very clear, "You should not be messing with any wires without adult supervision. It's very dangerous and you can get hurt."

Steve just huffed at that and then ran off when he saw Mr. Hagan at his booth. He was giving out toothbrushes.

Wayne doesn't think much of that kid after he leaves the school. He doesn't have much reason to until there's a loud insistent knocking on his front door an hour after he got off shift a couple days later.

"...What are you doing here?"

"Hi, I'm Steve. We met before..." The kid said, fidgeting when Wayne just stared at him bewildered. "I asked Mrs. Byers at Melvards where you live. I see you there sometimes."

Wayne raised an eyebrow and Steve rushed, "I need a grown up with super-vision."

This was how Wayne found himself on Saturday morning in the front hall of the painfully empty Harrington household. Steve was beckoning him along and showing him a burnt outlet. He gave Wayne a very serious look, "I need help fixing it."

"Why don't you wait until your parents get back from...?"

"No!" Steve snapped at him. "I'm in charge! Dad said that I have to take care of the house and, and-"

"I don't think he was referring to something like this, kid."

"Yes, he was!" Steve insisted. "Cause I - 'Cause I told him that the lights were flickering when Mama called and he said to figure it out so. So, I got you. That's deli-gate-tion."

And that was how Wayne found himself standing in the Harrington basement with a flashlight and a kid with a death grip on his pant leg. Wayne was looking at the marks on the breaker box where the kid clearly tried to pry it open with a screwdriver when Steve tugged on his leg, "Can you see inside it with your super vision?"

Jesus, Wayne thought and then dedicated the rest of his day to showing this kid exactly why he should not be messing around with electrical wires and maybe. Just maybe, inspiring a future electrician. 

one time when i was 17 i watched an episode of doctor who (tennant years) that made me so inconsolable that i went upstairs to my mom and i sobbed like, "please don't make fun of me, i'm so upset about a fake person from a tv show right now i can't stop crying." she let me sit in her lap and tell her all about the episode and i stopped crying and said i felt so stupid and she started laughing and she said, "i once cried this hard in college over a star trek episode. want to hear about it?" i said yes and then while she told me about the episode she got upset all over again 30 years later and she started crying and then i started laughing about it so hard i started crying again

Mmm think I'm gonna be evil tonight. Think I'm gonna write a fic of Steve and Robin slowly distancing themselves because their lives get so busy. Of Steve not knowing what to do because he wants this relationship to stay alive, it's the only real friendship he's had since high school. It's the only friendship that's ever mattered to him. And now it's just falling apart right in front of his eyes. So he keeps trying and trying and trying. And Robin's trying, too, but their schedules don't line up anymore.

Robin's in college.

Steve is working full-time minimum wage.

Robin's got a girlfriend and a whole group of foreign language friends.

Steve has Eddie, but Eddie works, too. He has Dustin, but Dustin's got school. And so does Max. And Nancy's in college with Jonathan.

So he writes letters. Postcards. Makes whole journal entries of his seemingly boring, stupid mundane life. Stuffs whole orange envelopes with his silly journal entries and polaroids he takes while hiking and a list of all the movies he's checked out from Family Video that months. He keeps Robin up to date with frequent customers they both hated. He just keeps trying.

Robin writes, too. About classes and final exams and when she's coming home for holidays—how she's only spending time with her parents because she can't stay for long. But it's too sporadic. Steve tries to respond, leave a message for her about getting her letters.

It's just not enough.

They both tried. They both called. They both wrote. They both gave it a shot.

But their conversations go dry. Their free time now dwindling.

It hits him, like a punch to the sternum, they're not going to last. After all this time, the trauma they shared, the conversations on bathroom floors...he can't save the friendship, she can't save the friendship. It's a matter of time until they stop talking.

And all they can do is hold on.

Actor Steve and normal guy Eddie modern AU inspired by this post @kingdomvel

Part 3 || Part 4

▪️▪️▪️

For the first time in years Steve found himself free on a Friday night. Between working, going on press tours, doing stupid interviews, making appearances at bougie Hollywood parties and, on occasion, attempting to go on dates, his time was always occupied by something. Filming had yet to really pick up since there were some permit issues getting a hold of time and space for shooting at Wrigley Field. Another plus to getting his role, with the rewards yet to be reaped. Playing baseball on Wrigley Field. So his morning was merely scheduled training with the other cast members, training as a baseball team to better act as one made sense. That also meant he got home to his way too big and too empty house in Malibu just before roomie dinner should the stars align to have one. Robin, despite her being his extremely talented PR manager, was also his roommate and best friend. She had her night filled with organizing press tours and interviews for the new movie, but he had an inkling it was more to do with Robin wanting to spend more time with LA Times Journalist, Nancy Wheeler.

“It’s just a business dinner! Don’t you want someone who will actually ask good questions for once and not shit like ‘what hair products do you use’ or ‘what diet are you on?’” Robin exclaimed as she fumbled putting on her boots.

“Yes, but at this business dinner,” Steve air-quoted, “you should really ask her on a normal date. Take her to a museum or something.”

“It’s not that easy,” Robin retorted.

“It is. The worst she can say is no, and even then I don’t think she will.”

“Ugh, I’m leaving now. Call me if you need anything but wait til after dinner.” She said as she walked out the front door.

“Have fun! Don’t work too hard!” Steve shouted as she closed it making sure to quickly stick her tongue out at him before she did.

And that was that. He was on his own for the first time in years and he had no idea what to do with himself. All the events, all the work, were distractions from his lonely life. He didn’t mind leaving Hawkins, getting the hell out of dodge when the opportunity came. His parents signed him onto a few commercials as a kid and didn’t think anything of it until some random talent scout called the house when his parents happened to be home, for once. They agreed to whatever was discussed and practically shipped him away. Now that he thought about it, he couldn’t recall the last time either of them called that didn’t involve asking him for money or a favor. At least he was finally 22, so getting a random case of red wine delivered was no issue, not that getting any type of alcohol or drugs was hard to do for a rich young celebrity in LA.

He settled in his living room the best he could, the Tuscan style house provided some form of coziness, but the tiled floor made sure that regardless of the warm orange terracotta an underlining coldness was never out of reach. Steve never really knew how to live in his house, he bought it for the ocean view and Robin loved the hot tub in the backyard. He had the money, so it was bought. The flatscreen hung above a luxurious fireplace that was never used, because why the fuck would he need a fireplace in California but it was still pretty. Thankfully the remote was on the wooden coffee table and he doom-scrolled through all of the streaming services, cringing anytime he caught a glimpse of a shitty B-movie he appeared in. Part of him missed babysitting more and more, the other part did enjoy having money that was his own, but money couldn’t buy genuine company. He refilled his glass for… shit how many was that? Three? No four. Wait, three. Three glasses of wine.

He gulped down much too large of a sip, ready to let the wine take him entirely when his phone buzzed. Steve fumbled to get it out of his pocket, forgetting entirely that he was still in jeans. A single Instagram notification appeared so he opened it, happy to see a recent message from Batking.

Batking: so I watched Paladin…

Steve.hrrgtn: and?!

Batking: woah, was not expecting a response that fast. Arent celebrities supposed to be busy on friday nights?

Steve.hrrgtn: u caught me on a rare occasion.

Steve.hrrgtn: so utilize it, you have my full attention. Whatd you think?

Batking: …

Batking: it was amazing

Steve.hrrgtn: thats it? Tell me more!

Batking: what do u want to know?

Steve.hrrgtn: everything! You clearly play d&d or at least know a lot about it. Was it accurate? Idk, what did you enjoy?

Steve was overcome with a giddiness he hadn’t felt since his first kiss. Sure it was for a tv show he was in for a few episodes but exciting nonetheless. He waited as Batking typed their response.

Batking: It was the most accurate movie portrayal of D&D ive ever seen. Im thoroughly impressed, and I’m a hard man to impress.

Steve.hrrgtn: is that so?

Batking: you’re damn right it is.

Batking: you really did crush it. To see the paladin go from being in his element on the battlefield to getting completely stripped of everything with nothing left but his values to keep him going… wow. It kept me on my toes, wondering if he’ll getting beaten down enough to break his oath. But NO! The conviction you display, the way you would get up after every failure, every obstacle, im mesmerized. You were mesmerizing

Steve became extremely aware of his cheeks after that message. He couldn’t tell if he was actually blushing or if all the wine raised his body temperature. Either way he was flattered. He watched as three bouncing dots danced next to Batking’s profile picture, a doodled vampire bat with an itty bitty crown inbetween its ears on a lined piece of paper. He clicked on the picture, leading him to Batking’s profile where he carefully read each element of the guy’s bio.

🦇Welcome to Hell 🔥 you have entered my domain… you have been warned

There were a few links below: Spotify, Youtube and one for DMGuild. Steve didn’t know what the last one was but he was planning on checking it out later anyways. As he scrolled down most of the dude’s pictures were of friends, guitars and other musical equipment, stray cats, random craft/construction projects, D&D battlemaps and poorly designed posters by local bars for open mic nights he would be playing at. Not much of the guy himself from what he could tell until he came across one of a slender guy in a white and black baseball tee with a red skull and yellow horns that ready Hellfire Club. The guy was sticking his entire tongue out and held up both hands in the rock and roll fist. It was from several years ago and the caption read: Welcome to Hellfire! Each new member gets to make their own original t-shirt. Meet me in the art room after school this friday @3:30pm.

Steve smiled, but sadness crept in. He wondered if Dustin ever got to meet this guy, they’d get along so well he could feel it. Steve was about to scroll through his contacts to see if he could find Mrs.Henderson’s number but a banner notification from Batking distracted him.

Batking: i dont think i blinked the entire time. Maybe i just forgot to? I cant tell. Im higher than i expected tbh

Steve.hrrgtn: can i trade u? I have wine

Batking: red or white?

Steve.hrrgtn: red

Batking: pass. It all tastes the same to me

Steve.hrrgtn: does it matter? Itll get u drunk either way

Batking: if you want weed so bad why don’t you get some? Dont u live in California? Am i to sit here and read your messages as you squander your well deserved paladin money on wine instead of weed. Tsk tsk tsk

Steve laughed, a true LOL. What he wouldn’t give to just meet this person. No one made him laugh besides Robin.

Steve.hrrgtn: how are you this funny?

Batking: what can i say? I’m but a humble court jester put on this earth do one thing only.

Steve.hrrgtn: what would that be, sir jester?

Batking: to entertain royalty. Royalty such as yourself.

Steve.hrrgtn: i thought that was my job? What is acting if not being paid to entertain

Batking: fair point

Batking: wait if im not a jester what does that make me?

Batking: dont tell me that the Steve Harrington is about to trigger an identity crisis. At least send me cali kush first 😭😭

Steve.hrrgtn: sorry, best i can do is 11 bottles of Cabernet sauvignon

Batking: great. now you have a sense of humor!? You need to come with a warning: rich, attractive, decent personality AND funny.

Steve being too infatuated and tipsy to stop himself replied:

Steve.hrrgtn: 😊

Steve.hrrgtn: wait! Decent?

Batking: I’m giving you the benefit of the doubt. Forgive me for being just a tad skeptical. This thing we got going is still a little unfathomable.

Ok fair. Steve nodded to himself, Batking had a point. He was getting a little carried away with just how comfortable he was acting toward this guy who he still didn’t know the real name of. Speaking of which…

Steve.hrrgtn: what’s your name

Batking: not so subtle change of topic

Steve.hrrgtn: sorry

Batking: it’s ok. Wine?

Steve.hrrgtn: your name is wine?

Batking: hahahahhaha no

Batking: …why do u want to know

Steve.hrrgtn: u know mine

Batking: true. Ok I’ll tell you, but under one condition

Steve.hrrgtn: ok????

Batking: if u remember a Dustin Henderson at all, it would mean the world to him if you gave him a call. Even just messaged him. He sings praises of u. I couldn’t believe him, not until this. And look i have no filter rn and im probably being way more vulnerable with u than im comfortable but i’ll tell you my name if you promise me you’ll try to reconnect with him. Just please for my sake, don’t let him know i didn’t watch paladin until you told me to.

Curse the wine, he shouldn’t have finished a bottle by himself without dinner before this. Tears of joy streamed down his face, a burst of feeling that filled his empty husk. Feeling what? Everything? Anything? Maybe it was knowing his silly babysitting gig is actually the most important job he’s ever had, that it’s the job that has fundamentally made him, him. Maybe it’s knowing from this near complete strangers that yea he does know Dustin, that the kid was left in good hands. Maybe that Dustin remembers him and still thinks about him, that the door there is open. Maybe it’s the kindness and courage of Batking to be vulnerable with him not born of manipulation but out of authentic compassion.

Steve.hrrgtn: i promise

Batking: pinky swear

Steve.hrrgtn: what?

Batking: u heard me! Pinky swear!

Steve.hrrgtn: geez! Ok! I pinky swear

Batking: good. Im holding u to it.

Steve.hrrgtn: thank you

Batking: for?

Steve.hrrgtn: idk. For treating me like a person

Batking: you are one, aren’t you?

Good wasn’t that the truth. He is one, but Robin seemed to be the only person that acted that way towards him. That is until… wait this fucker still hasn’t told me his name.

Steve.hrrgtn: i am a person. One that still wants to know your name.

Batking: damn, was hoping i could distract u

Steve.hrrgtn: 🤨🫴name pls

Batking: its Eddie

~~~

This one’s for you queen @beckkthewreck

Would yall want an extended fic on ao3 ? Im considering if i want to keep posting parts here or if i should do both. Would that be good for yall?

Steve, who has been adopted by every adult he’s ever met: I can’t meet your uncle, Eddie

Eddie: ???

Eddie: It’s not like Wayne is going to hate you

Steve: It’s worse.

Steve: He’s going to love me so much.

So, tattoo shop AUs are really popping off lately and personally I love it. What’s more romantic than bleeding for art? Nothing!

But as someone married to a tattoo artist, I have been experiencing some mild She Wouldn’t Say That regarding tattoo culture. So here’s a few quick tips that may help inform your AU. With a grain of salt for my mostly-second-hand knowledge:

NO ONE REPUTABLE SHOP WILL TATTOO A DRUNK PERSON. EVER. or even a person they suspect of any kind of inebriation. This is not just for Regret reasons, but also because alcohol is a blood thinner. If someone is on an acute dose of blood thinners, you generally do not want to stab them dozens of times per second.

Maybe this is regional, but in my experience most tattoo places don’t call themselves parlors anymore. It has a kind of seedy vibe. I see shop or studio a lot but rarely parlor.

Most tattoo artists are hot, yes, but none are as hot at my wife

Tattooing janks up your hands. Sometimes in a RSI way but definitely in a changing-gloves-every-five-minutes-fucks-up-your-skin way.

Artists themselves are rarely if ever employees of the shop. They will be independent contractors who pay the shop either a cut of their sales or rent on their station like a hair dresser. They are also (usually) responsible for taking care of their own supplies, tools, etc. except for the stencil printer. What kind of dweeb would have their own stencil printer?

There is always a line for the stencil printer. Always.

Artists generally spend orders of magnitude more time working on art, replying to emails, doing consults, etc compared to time with their needles in skin.

A typical schedule for an artist might be: wake up at noon and guzzle half her body weight in coffee, one appointment from 1-4, and another from 6-9. Home to eat one (1) real meal at 10 pm. Drawing until 5 am. This is good for her actually and good for our marriage and she’s so healthy all the time.

An ideal shop receptionist needs to be friendly, knowledgeable, and encouraging. They also need to be willing to get out the baseball bat that is kept behind the counter.

If a shop has to choose between “good people skills” and “will promptly rebuff Nazis and the obviously inebriated” the later is often a more important consideration.

At any given moment in any given shop there’s going to be at least one apprentice or someone bumming around hoping to be taken on as an apprentice. They spawn on tic and this feature cannot be disabled.

Again I can not overstate how hot my wife is

I love that as soon as I am back here, I found all this great One Piece artists I saw bevor on the internet on various platforms 🥰

Hopper is trying to enjoy his anniversary dinner with his wife at Enzo’s, in spite the fact that Diane is pissed at him and he doesn’t want to be there, when he suddenly hears, “Mr Hopper.”

Hopper does not roll his eyes when he looks away from his wife’s empty chair to six year old Steve Harrington next to him, “Yes?”

The kid is in a suit. Should Hopper have worn a suit?

“I’m okay, Mr Hopper.”

Well, that got Hopper’s attention. His eyes flicker from the kid to the table with his clearly whisper-arguing parents. Steve certainly looked okay so, “Good?”

“I’m gonna ask Mama if I can get ice cream,” Steve tells him. “If she says no, I’m going to cry real loud ‘til she gives up. I’m not really sad, Mr. Hopper. I’m just really good at crying. Please don’t arrest my dad. He didn’t hurt me.”

Hopper gives him a bewildered look so Steve compromises, “Okay, you can arrest my dad but after I get ice cream.”

Hopper barely manages not to smile at this ridiculous kid when he says, “Are you telling me about a premeditated tantrum?”

Steve thinks about it, “Yes.”

Sad Steddie Scenario Part 4

Hiiiiiiiii. Here is the THING I mentioned I had for today. Part 5 should be out later this week (please help me manifest) I've got most of it written. Quick summary since it's been so long - After a disastrous "meet the friends" night with the Hellfire guys, Eddie says some unintentionally cruel things, then decides he and Steve are too different and breaks things off.

CW: a couple of mentions of child abuse

Part One, Part Two, Part Three

____________________________

Steve doesn’t remember much about the week after Eddie breaks up with him. He starts each day with unnamed misery filling his chest, black and viscous. For the first few seconds between sleep and wakefulness, he’s overwhelmed, unable to identify its source. Just as it finally clicks, why he feels like tar is oozing through his body, why he can’t take a full breath, his dad knocks a solid fist onto his door. He’s always had a sixth sense of when Steve is awake and “lollygagging” in bed. He never waits for an answer to his knock, just sticks his head in and says, “Move your ass, Steve. Now.” He doesn’t shut the door again as he leaves, and he doesn’t wait to see if Steve listens to him because there’s never a question in his mind that Steve will.

And every morning, Steve gets up, pushes the misery aside. Never away. It coats his bones and drags him down and doesn’t leave, but it’s paired with a nervy buzzing, an anxious hum that roars through his head whenever his parents are around.

They like him to be present when they’re home. He’s been able to get out of the couple of dinner parties they’ve attended the past few days through sheer luck of being scheduled to close at work, but when they’re not out, they expect him in their eye line at all times. “We never get to see you, Steve,” his mom says one night at dinner, with zero trace of irony. “Is it too much to ask that you not hide away in your room while we’re here? We’ve been visiting all the old crowd. They’ve all asked where you were.”

“If you’re not going to spend time with us,” his dad chimes in, waving a third glass of tequila and soda around haphazardly, “you need to be out pounding pavement trying to find a job. A real job.”

“He’s right, dear. Do you know how embarrassing it was for me to tell LeAnn Perkins, of all people, that you were still at that awful video store? Her daughter is off to Ball State in September. Imagine being embarrassed by someone whose daughter is going to Ball State. Is this what you want for your mother?”

Steve’s pretty sure Ball State is a fine school, one that only a year ago his parents were encouraging him to apply to. He twirls his pasta around his fork and stays quiet.

“Hey!” Steve hears the smack land across the back of his head more than he feels it. “Are you paying attention?”

“Yes, sir.” He keeps his hands still, his eyes on his plate.

“Because you look like you’re bored, Steve. Is your mother boring you?”

“No, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize to me. Apologize to your mother.” Steve angles toward his mom, raises his eyes to her forehead instead of making direct contact.

“I’m sorry, Mom. I’m just tired.”

“From what?”

Steve barely holds in a sigh. And so it goes their entire visit.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The kids know he’s not as available when his parents visit. They think it’s because Steve never gets to see them so he wants to spend time with them - or at least, Steve hopes that’s what they think - and he’s glad of the excuse to keep contact to a minimum. He doesn’t need them asking questions. As it is, the couple of times he does see them—because they all drop by the store at least once—he can tell they know something is up. Mike’s clearly making an effort to be less annoying than normal, Max’s eyes bore holes into him from behind her new Coke bottle glasses, and Dustin tries to corner him while Robin rings Mrs. Henderson up. But Steve does his best to deflect them and is mostly successful.

Robin is harder to evade. She oscillates between encouraging him to talk to Eddie, figure out where everything went wrong, and raging to him that he doesn’t ever need to see Eddie again if he doesn’t want to and she’ll personally ban him from Family Video for life if Steve wants her to. Steve gives her a lot of “can we please stop talking about this?” and “We’re just cooling off, I’ll talk to him soon,” because every time he tries to tell her, the words refuse to leave his mouth. As soon as he tells her they’re over, it’s 100% real, and he can’t bear it.

So he spends the week exhausted, his body cycling through moments of heavy sadness and tense anxiety. Thankfully, his parents leave Wednesday afternoon. Steve doesn’t realize they’re heading out until his mom calls him downstairs to see them off. She takes the opportunity to tell Steve again how disappointed she is in what he’s doing with his life, how embarrassing the entire visit has been for them having to explain to their friends what he’s up to. His dad calls him lazy and a waste of potential.

Sometimes when they talk at him like this, Steve zones out. The buzzing that’s in his head gets so loud he can’t hear what they’re saying. He feels outside his body, loses time. Sometimes he doesn’t come back to himself for an hour or more. This time, he’s pretty sure he’s only lost a few minutes. His parents are gone. He’s curled up on the bathroom floor with no memory of how he got there. He’s clutching the cordless phone, partway through dialing a number from muscle memory, but then he remembers it’s one he’s no longer free to use. He presses the button to end the call lightning quick and tosses the phone far away from him.

It was stupid to think about calling Eddie anyway. Steve’s never told him about his parents, except to say they’re assholes. Never wanted to spoil the time they had together with his poor little rich kid sob story. After they got together, things were so good. Steve was happier than he can ever remember being. The Upside Down shit was over, Robin was planning to take a gap year so she could work and save money, so Steve didn’t have to worry about her leaving just yet. The kids were loud and thriving without the threat of the apocalypse weighing them down. And every time he was with Eddie was so…so perfect, he thought.

Fucking stupid.

He thinks about calling Robin. Whenever he calls her after he has to deal with his parents, she talks and talks and talks, leaving no room for anything in his mind except whatever ridiculous thing she decides to say. She saves all her most ridiculous thoughts for these moments and he loves her so much for it. But it’s not her he wants to talk to.

In the end, he doesn’t have to call anyone. As soon as he finds the strength to get off the floor, there’s a pounding at his front door and a very insistent Dustin Henderson calling out to him to “open up or so help me God—”

“All right, all right!” Steve barely gets the doorknob turned before the kid bursts inside, completely ignoring Steve’s wipe your feet, asshole! as as he blows past him, headed for the kitchen.

“Get in here, Harrington! You owe me a float.”

Steve shakes his head and follows. This might as well happen.

“What for?”

“Uh, what for?” Dustin slides onto a bar stool at the counter and Steve starts assembling the floats. “How about for not answering your walkie? How about for completely ignoring me when my mom and I came to the store the other day? How about for—”

“Do you want a cherry on top?” Steve asks, interrupting Dustin before he can rile himself up more.

“Obviously I want a goddamn cherry, Steve.” Steve pulls out the cherries. He puts the finishing touches on the float and hands one to Dustin, rounding the counter to sit next to him. They spend the next few minutes in blissful silence as they eat. The sugar perks Steve up like nothing has all week and by the time he’s done, he’s feeling almost optimistic. Then Dustin speaks.

“So are we gonna talk about it?” He drums his fingers on his float glass, eyeing Steve pointedly.

Steve sighs. “Talk about what?” Maybe if he plays dumb for long enough, Dustin will get tired and leave him alone.

That could totally happen.

“Why you were crying in the car. Why you’ve been moping around for the past week. Why Eddie hasn’t been returning my calls.”

Steve’s eyes cut to Dustin. “Eddie hasn’t been returning your calls?”

“Or answering the door when I go over, so someone better tell me what the shit is going on or I’m going to have El torture it out of you.”

“Okay, whoa. First off, El would never do that. Second off, you know I was actually tortured, right? You remember that? Not cool, dude.”

“Yeah, I remember that, and you folded like a cheap suit, gave the Russians my full name. So I already know you’re susceptible.”

“They gave me a truth serum!”

“Excuses, Steve. Excuses.” Dustin fixes him with an expectant stare. “So. Why were you crying in the car?”

“I told you it was allergies.”

“Do I look like an idiot?”

Steve tilts his hand from side to side. “Ennnhh.”

“Don’t answer that. I’m going to ask again. Why. Were. You. Crying.” He punctuates each word with a sharp poke to Steve’s chest.

“Jesus, dude! It was allergies! I wasn’t crying.” Steve swats him away and stands up, desperate for some space. But he doesn’t go far, leans on the wall across from the counter. He doesn’t want to talk about this, but maybe he needs to. Robin accuses him of wallowing, shutting himself off when he’s upset. She says it only makes it worse.

Dustin stands up with him, crosses his arms over his chest. “Steve. Are you trying to teach me it’s not okay for boys to cry? Is that the idea of masculinity you want me to have?”

“Oh my god, you’re going to get me in so much trouble.” “Fine. Me and Eddie broke up, okay?”

“What, when you came to pick us up?”

“Yeah.”

“What the fuck, Steve?”

“That’s what I said!”

“What did you do?”

“Okay, asshole. I didn’t do shit.” He bangs the back of his head lightly against the wall in frustration. “Or I may have done shit, I don’t know. Robin and I tried to figure it out, but we couldn’t.”

“So why don’t you tell me what happened? I’m the smartest person you know. I can help way better than Robin.”

“I don’t know, man. Feels wrong to talk to you about it with you.”

“I talk to you about my problems with Suzie! Why can’t you talk to me about your problems with Eddie?”

“I don’t know, it’s just different! I don’t know Suzie. You know Eddie. Feels like I’m gossiping behind his back or something.”

“Who else are you going to talk to then? Everyone you know hangs out with Eddie. Including Robin.” Dustin’s voice goes soft. “Come on, man. Let me help. You’re always helping me. I’ve been in a relationship for a whole year. Suzie and I are very happy. I know things!”

“I know you do, Henderson. But I don’t think I can talk about it right now. I’m really…I’m just really fucking sad.” That’s it. Steve’s really fucking sad. It feels stupid to be this sad with all they’ve been through. Selfish, indulgent. But three weeks ago he’d spent his days listening to his boyfriend jam out in his car, or watching him bounce around his room while he tried to explain a fantasy game, or cuddling up next to him in bed, whispering sweet words that Steve never thought anyone would say to him. And maybe it had been too soon, but he’d honestly thought he’d be doing those things for the rest of his life. But now that was all gone and he has no idea why.

“I thought we were doing okay,” he says to Dustin. “It was the same with Nancy. I thought things were fine, and then it blew up in my face. I don’t know why this keeps happening. It’s even worse with Eddie, though.”

“Why’s that?” He says it so gently, in a way he never is, that Steve has to take a minute. He swipes a hand across his mouth, breathes in hard before he can continue.

“Me and Nancy,” he says. “We were never going to work out. We don’t want any of the same things. And she liked me at first, but I think she was just trying to cut loose by being with me, break out of her shell or whatever. But Eddie, I thought he actually liked me, you know? He always wanted to show me stuff, play me a song he was writing, teach me the Dragon game, get my opinion on tattoos he wanted. And he never thought anything I said was stupid. Guess I was being stupid, though.”

“Steve.”

But Steve can’t take it anymore. He gives himself a shake, pushes against the wall to stand up straight. “Shit, man, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have unloaded all that on you.”

“I’m glad you did. You never let me help you with stuff like this. I want to help.” Steve reaches out, tugs Dustin close. Dustin presses his face into Steve’s shoulder and mutters something against it that Steve doesn’t quite catch. Steve pulls back enough to look down at him, but not enough to let him go.

“What was that?”

“I said, do you want me to skip Hellfire tomorrow? I will. I’m on your side, Steve.” Steve marvels at him. How did he find this kid? How did he get so lucky?

“No, that’s…I don’t want you to do that, I promise.” Dustin squints up at him, skeptical, but Steve gives him a reassuring smile and ruffles his hair. “I promise.”

“If you say so,” Dustin says.

Steve finally lets him go. He glances around at his empty house and back to Dustin, who’s clearly still upset. Part of him wants to go back to bed. Forget about his parents, forget about Eddie. But a bigger part of him wants to say fuck all the angst and watch some space teddy bears with his friend.

“You wanna stay over tonight?” he asks. “I could use the company. We can watch Star Wars.”

Dustin’s face lights up and he places a hand on Steve’s shoulder, clutching the other one dramatically to his chest. “Steve. I would be honored.”

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Next up: A confrontation at Hellfire! Sorry I didn't tag anyone, the tag list just got way too overwhelming. Thank you for reading! Reblogs appreciated!