8. Forever Yours, Faithfully

Breakfast is almost worse than dinner. Steve comes down at seven thirty to find his mother hovering over a plate of pancakes. She smiles absently when she sees him and he kisses her cheek.

"Good morning, Mom. Looks amazing."

Steve's father has the Sunday edition of the Hawkins Post already in his grip, cutting him off from the table and Steve isn't complaining. He drizzles syrup on his pancakes and cuts into one with the side of his fork.

"Do you have plans today, Steven?" His mother asks, a handful of grapes and a single slice of toast on her plate.

"Yes," he says cautiously, "but I'll be back for dinner, like you asked. I have plans after dinner as well." He sees his father's hand twitch on the newspaper and he looks down at his plate, "if that's fine with you, mom."

"A date?" she asks, and Steve nods, happy to go along with the assumption.

"Yeah, yeah a date,” he lies, “With Jennifer Crawford."

Jennifer Crawford's father owns a large chunk of the businesses in Hawkins. Steve went on a date with her pre-Vecna. Steve hopes that his father will consider Jennifer Crawford's well established family a good enough excuse to leave after dinner. He must, because there isn't any protest from behind the newspaper. Steve finishes his pancakes and clears his own plate, thinking he's in the clear as he makes for the kitchen door.

"Steven."

He stops, screwing his eyes shut and hoping his sigh of disappointment is quiet enough. He turns around, face a mask of politeness.

"Yes?"

"We will discuss your new position over dinner tonight. Our flight leaves at eight am on Monday, and we won't be back until mid July."

"July?"

Even for his parents, that is a long time- over a full month away. At one point in his life, it would have hurt to hear that his parents would be gone so long, but now it sounds like freedom. His father lowers the paper, locking eyes with Steve.

"As I said last night, if you were listening, there are going to be a number of large changes in the business over the upcoming months. There's a lot of events to attend, a lot of paperwork to file. Your mother has been networking with the other wives, they're starting their own little group to keep themselves occupied. And then I've also decided that your mother and I could use some time away together without work. We'll be in Europe for a few weeks. Then, when we return, you can take up your position at the firm."

"I look forward to it."

His father raises an eyebrow and Steve doesn't break eye contact.

"During this time, I expect you to put serious consideration into the person you'll be when we return. You will be an extension of us, and I won't tolerate any ridiculous behavior. Am I clear?"

"Yes."

“You may go.”

“Enjoy your day, Steve,” his mother says as he walks away. He doesn’t reply.

In a somewhat shocking turn of events, Steve isn't expected to drive any of the kids to the quarry. Instead, Jonathan is the one who sits behind the wheel as the kids pile out in various stages of excitement. Robin's mother drops her off, waving politely at Steve before she drives away.

"We got fruit!" Dustin yells, dragging a large cooler behind him across the dirt. "My mom pre-cut the watermelon and everything!"

Jonathan has one arm slung out the window of his car and Steve heads over, leaning down with one hand on the roof.

"You want me to drop them home? I can't fit them all in the back seat but I can stuff a few in the trunk."

Jonathan cracks a smile and shakes his head, "Nah, man. I'll come back around four for El and Will at least, mom is real serious about her Sunday night dinners these days. If the others want to stay longer though, would you mind?"

Steve shakes his head and claps a hand on the roof, goes to walk away but is stopped by Jonathan saying his name. He turns back and Jonathan leans out the window and lowers his voice.

"I thought you might wanna know…Jason Carver got stuffed into the back of a government car yesterday morning and his parents are selling their house."

A slow smirk creeps over Steve's face and Jonathan huffs with a smile, "I knew you had something to do with it. When Will told me what happened," his fist clenches and unclenches and Steve understands the feeling. Jonathan looks behind Steve, then leans even closer.

"Will told me he told you. I feel better knowing you've got his back. You're a good man, Harrington. I mean that."

Steve looks over his shoulder at Will, who is carefully sticking plastic wrap over what appears to be yet another cover up on El's arm.

"He's a good kid. He deserves to know that nobody is going to hurt him and get away with it."

“He does.”

Steve knows Will would never have told Jonathan his secret, but he can tell there’s something different about the way Jonathan is looking at him right now.

“I’m glad you’re doing okay again, man.”

‘Okay’ is a bit of an overstatement, but Steve isn’t ready to tell him that, so he thanks him instead and slaps the roof of the car as Jonathan drives away. The kids and Robin have unpacked their chairs and towels, they’ve shown up early enough in the day that there’s very few others here, giving them prime pickings on waterfront relaxation. Lucas, Dustin and Mike are huddled off to the side, looking unsubtly at where Max, Will and El are sitting together on their towels.

“Max, do you need help with your sunscreen?” Lucas asks, and Steve sees Dustin and Mike high five quietly.

Max twists an arm around her back, slapping sunscreen haphazardly between her shoulder blades.

“Nope.”

Steve hides his smile and throws his towel across the lounging chair Robin had set up. She’s under an umbrella in a blue and white swimsuit, curly hair piled up on top of her head and a pair of large red sunglasses perched on her nose.

“At some point today, you and I should talk,” she says conversationally, sipping from a plastic water bottle and clearly trying to appear casual. Steve nods as he drops into the second lounger, pulling off his shirt in one go and stretching his legs.

“We will. Let’s just make sure the kids don’t drown within the first twenty minutes though.”

Lucas and Mike have already clambered up onto the rocks, throwing themselves into the air with joyful screams as they slam into the water. Dustin, relaxing in a swimming donut, screams as they each grab a leg and try and pull him under. Will is still with El and Max, who are sitting on their towels in a deep conversation and haven’t yet even headed for the water.

“It’s a shame Eddie’s away, he loves swimming,” Robin says as she digs in a beaded bag for a book, “He’d eat those kids alive in there.”

Mike shrieks as Lucas throws himself off one of the rocks and lands almost directly on top of him.

“Hey, hey, try not to kill each other!” Steve shouts, watching the pair resurface and Mike immediately shove Lucas’ head under the water.

They both flip him the bird and he considers whether or not he wants to bother chasing them down in the water for it, but decides against it for now. He lets himself relax, turning over on the chair and resting his face in the fold of his arms. He cracks one eye open every few minutes, keeping tabs on the kids as they duck in and out of the water. El and Max are splashing around in the shallows, singing along to something playing on someone’s boom box. Steve can see the boys taking turns doing flips off the rocks, rating the ensuing splashes.The quarry is getting busier by the hour, people trying to escape the heat of the day down by the water.

He can feel the sun on his shoulders, the satisfying burn of the heat across his back. After spending last summer behind the counter at Scoops and not out in the sunshine, he’s kind of hoping he can get his golden tanned skin back. It was his second best feature, in his opinion. It’s getting time to reign the kids in for lunch, but they’ve probably got another forty five minutes. He looks over at Robin, who has her nose in a book.

"You want to go for a walk?"

Robin lowers the book, shifts up onto her elbows and pulls down her sunglasses, "Sure. DWEEBS!"

Her shout makes several people turn around and she rolls her eyes at them, "Are you dweebs? No. Eyes front. DWEEBS!"

The kids come staggering out of the water and Robin points at Max.

"Steve and I will be back. Max is in charge-" there's an immediate uproar and Robin raises her voice over the chaos, "Max is in charge. Do not do anything stupid while we are gone, understood?"

"Where are you guys going?" Lucas asks, and Steve hears Dustin murmur something that sounds an awful lot like 'probably to make out'.

"For a walk. Make sure nobody touches our shit."

She stands up and dusts off her legs, shoving her feet into a pair of flip flops and dropping a very large hat onto her head.

"You look ridiculous."

"I'll look more ridiculous if I'm shedding like a snake at prom, Steve. Where are we headed?"

Steve pilfers the container of watermelon from the cooler and shrugs, "There's a walking track up to the top of the ridge. It's about a thirty minute climb though."

"Sounds like a lot of effort. What about that?"

She points to a well worn path that cuts between the rocks and grass. Steve shakes his head.

"Leads to a make out spot."

"How far though?"

"Ten minutes. Maybe fifteen."

"Better than thirty minutes uphill. People think we're making out anyway, what more harm could it do?"

Steve hears Dustin hiss 'see!' as he and Robin duck onto the path and start heading away from the more populated area. Steve toys with the shirt slung across his shoulders for a while, and Robin gently bumps her hips against his.

“Why Max?” Steve asks, and Robin shrugs.

“She’s the oldest. And besides, Lucas and El will listen to her, and Will will listen to El, and Mike will listen to Will. Which just leaves Dustin, and I’m confident little Maxine could take Dustin down with a hand tied behind her back. Now, is this the part where you tell me what the hell was going on yesterday?"

"My parents are home," he says, cutting right to the chase, "and things are a million times more difficult when they're here. This time especially though. It's stupid."

He's told Robin a little bit about his parents, so she has a small amount of context for his feelings already. He explains about them coming home, the immediate disapproval over his clothing choice at eight am on a weekend. The stilted conversation, the plans they had laid out for him.

“It’s a good offer,” Steve says, shaking his head and helping Robin over a patch of large rocks, “I know I’m being stupid.”

“Your parents don’t really seem like they’re offering it to you though,” Robin says gently, “it sounds like they’ve decided exactly how your future is going to go, and you aren’t getting a say in it.”

“Dozens of people would kill for this opportunity,” Steve defends, hating how he can hear the words in his father’s voice as he says them.

“Then maybe one of those dozens of people should be given the chance.”

The makeout spot is a group of flat rocks that overlap one another, creating three or four perfect nooks for two people to hide from the world. It's empty, which is surprising given the slow trickle of people coming to the quarry for the sticky Sunday weather. He drops down onto one of the rocks and opens the Tupperware full of watermelon.

“It’s so weird, Robin. They came home, and I’ve felt more comfortable in the Upside Down than I did sitting in the kitchen with them. Your father makes me feel more comfortable than they do.”

“That’s saying something,” Robin says, grabbing a slice of watermelon and taking a large bite.

"You know they didn't even come home when the hospital called to tell them I was hurt after the ‘serial killer’?" he puts quotes around the phrase, rolling his eyes.

The severe looking woman in a pencil skirt who was in charge of the cover story had told him she had located his parents and told them the news. He had waited, assuming he was imagining the quick flash of pity in her eyes until she spoke again, telling him they'd asked her to pass on the message that they would be coming back at the original return date in two weeks. When they’d finally come back, his father had offered him a ‘good job’, and his mother had opened her arms for a hug. And that had been it. Steve doesn’t know if the woman told them he had almost died from blood loss, and he doesn’t really want to know. They didn’t even see the scar until a few days later, when Steve had come out of the shower at the same time they exited their bedroom. His mother’s eyes had dropped to the scar, red and raised and ugly against his skin, but said nothing.

“Anyway,” he picks up, squinting into the sun and rubbing his sweaty shoulders, “I just couldn’t be in that house, couldn’t stand the thought of slinging tapes all day acting like I didn’t feel like shit. I feel fine now,” it’s only a partial lie, “I just felt like all of a sudden I was drowning, that everything that’s ever gone wrong in my life was a thousand times larger and I couldn’t breathe. And then-”

He sighs and pressing his thumbs into the corner of his eyes, feels Robin’s small hand on his shoulder and takes a deep breath.

“We were watching the news, and there was some program about what’s happening. About AIDS. My father called it disgusting behavior, said they’d brought it on themselves… Robin, they don’t even like me now. They’re never going to love me if they find out..”

His voice cracks slightly and he bites the inside of his cheek in shame. Robin’s cheek is on his shoulder, hand running down his back reassuringly.

“They don’t deserve you, Steve.” Robin assures him quietly, “They never have, and they’re never going to. There’s nothing wrong with you, just like there’s nothing wrong with me, or with Will, or with Vickie.”

Steve swallows hard and nods, “I’m, uh, I’m thinking of moving out. Been thinking about it for a while, actually. But they’re gone until July and I think if I just get enough saved up, I could get out of there before they come back. Hawkins is small, sure. But I could avoid them. They wouldn’t be caught dead on the east side, I could hide there forever.”

Robin looks up at him and smiles her soft little smile, “That sounds like a good idea. Make sure it’s a two bedroom, so I can crash.”

“Of course, you’ll have your own room anywhere I live.”

He means it.

They continue eating watermelon, ignoring the confused glances they get from couples slowly making their way up the rocks for privacy. Steve waits until the most recent couple has turned back, disappearing over the dirt, before he speaks.

"I think I have a crush on Eddie."

Robin chokes on her watermelon. Steve hits her between the shoulder blades and she coughs, drooling a little into the dirt as she tries to catch her breath.

"I'm sorry, I need you to repeat that." She wheezes.

"Do I have to?"

"Yes, Steve. Yes you definitely have to."

"I have a crush on Eddie." He takes out the 'think' part. He's so far beyond 'think' at this point. Robin is staring, open mouthed, when another couple comes giggling over the crest of the hill.

“Hey, turn around! This spot is occupied!” she yells, making them jump and break their handsy kiss. The pair shoot them an annoyed look, but Robin tosses a watermelon rind in their direction.

“Yeah, ocupado, buddy. Back the way you came!”

She turns back to Steve and grabs his face in her hands, “Okay, I need every detail of this revelation right now and I need you to not leave anything out. When? How? Is this why you’ve been weird?”

“I haven’t been weird.”

“Steve!”

Steve sighs and leans back on the rock, shading his eyes from the sun.

“Do you remember at the start of your first semester when we both weren’t sleeping well?”

“Yeah?”

“Well, one night I was just losing my fucking mind being stuck in my house, so I went for a walk..”

He recounts the entire night to her, right down to the way Eddie had leaned over him to get the door and Steve had pointed out his dimple. Robin’s eyes get so wide he’s concerned they’re going to pop out of her head, reverse-Vecna style. She’s gripping his hand so tight he’s worried she’s going to crack something. Steve then explains how he’d ignored it, shoved it down and blamed the weed and gone about his life until suddenly Eddie was very much part of it again. Then that night at Family Video. Then the pool, the movie, and the nightmares. When he mentions that they fell asleep in the same bed, Robin makes a strangled noise like a dying rodent and he sighs.

“Where do you think he slept the night you were wasted, Robin?”

“You’ve slept with him twice!?”

“Slept near him, twice.” Steve corrects firmly. “Near him.”

“Oh my God, Steve! How could you keep this from me!”

She’s not actually upset, he knows. But he does feel a little guilty about it. He rubs his brows and throws his hands in the air.

“Because, Robin, it’s Eddie. He’s your friend, he’s my friend. He’s the kid’s friend. It’s weird. Besides, it’s not like he’s going to like me back, he’s not into guys.”

Robin is staring at him, lips parted, “Right… okay. Yes. Sure.”

She turns her head and chews on her lip before looking at him again, shifting on the rock so she can face him properly.

"Okay fine. Let's say, hypothetically, that Eddie did like boys."

"Why would we-"

"Steve, don't interrupt. Hypothetically, if Eddie did like boys, would that change anything?"

Steve thinks about it, thinks about what he would do if he could just tell Eddie he liked him.

“No,” he finally decides, and Robin looks like she’s about to combust, but seems to reign herself in.

“And why not?”

“Because, like I said. He’s our friend. And the kids’ friend. If we broke up, who knows how badly that would ruin everything.”

“You aren’t even together and you’re already considering what would happen if you broke up?”

“Do you know how often I spend time with my exes, Robin? Outside of alternate universe portals, very little.”

It isn’t that he and Nancy aren’t still friends, they are. But there’s never not going to be awkwardness, and to even consider that he would have that with Eddie hurts more than he can stomach.

“Look, it’s a stupid crush. It’s going to go away, and then things will be fine. But I wanted to tell you, because I’m trying to stop letting myself get so worked up about stuff that I just feel like I’m dying.”

Robin is staring at him still, and he sighs and presses his forehead to hers in a gentle touch, “I freaked out when I first figured it out, okay? I wasn’t keeping it from you on purpose, I was just not ready for how it was going to feel when I actually found a guy attractive for more than just a passing second.”

“The first time I figured out I liked Tammy Thompson I threw up in the girls bathroom for twenty minutes,” Robin admits quietly, “So I get it. Eddie, though,” she says with a ghost of a smile, “Not who I would have picked as your type.”

“Trust me, me either.”

Robin brings her knees to her chest and rests her cheek on them, face turned towards him.

“So is it like, the tattoos, or-?”

Steve snaps the watermelon container shut and stands up, “Yep, and we’re done,”

“Oh come on! I told you about Vickie. It’s the freckles. I just wanted to kiss every single one of them, one at a time.”

Steve pulls his shirt on for the walk back and Robin laughs as she comes up behind him, “Come on, dingus. Give me something,”

Steve sighs and knows he’s going to regret answering, but he does anyway.

“I like his hands.” he says finally, and Robin cackles so evilly he considers shoving her over into the dirt.

“Ooooh, Stevie. Sweet little Stevie, you are adorable.”

They get back to the quarry and find the kids sitting under the shade of the umbrella. Max and El have commandeered one lounger to themselves and are sharing a soda and a sandwich, while the boys are sitting on their towels around them, demolishing the food from the cooler.

“About time!” Mike yells as they come back, Steve helping Robin climb over the last rock, “What the hell were you two even doing?”

“None of your business,” Robin replies tartly, throwing herself into Steve’s beach lounger and reaching for a sandwich. Dustin mutters something to Lucas, who nods wisely. Steve rolls his eyes as he returns the remaining watermelon to the cooler and pulls out a soda, running the cold can along the nape of his neck and down onto his chest, groaning at the feeling of cold condensation on his hot skin.

“Watch yourself there, dingus,” Robin mutters when he shoves her over to make room on the chair for himself, since Max and El have made it clear they won’t be moving.

“Watch what?” he replies, picking up the low tone. Robin is looking at her book, and flicks a page idly.

“You’ve got an admirer.”

Steve looks to Max, who Dustin had already informed him had no problem ogling him before he went into Lover’s Lake. But she is laughing with El and not paying him or Robin any attention.

“Nope, try again.”

He does a quick scan of the group and sees Will with his eyes fixed firmly on the group, pink spreading across his cheeks in a way that could be easily explained by the sun.

“Wait, seriously?”

“Mmmhmm. Thought he might stroke out when you took your shirt off this morning.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Steve hisses, and Robin laughs.

“Because he’s a kid who has just found out there’s someone in this shitty little town who won’t punch him in the face if they catch him looking. Let him have his moment, it’s a harmless crush.”

“Oh, like the one Dustin has on you?” he shoots back, watching with pleasure as Robin drops her sandwich into her lap.

“I’m sorry, what?”

The rest of the day goes by faster than Steve would like, knowing there is a tense dinner waiting for him when he leaves. He only has to wrangle the shitrats one time, when an older teen knocks El over in the shallows and is immediately surrounded by a very annoyed group of freshmen. Steve sets his hands on his hips and the guy apologizes, which El accepts quietly. When Steve sees the guy trip over the air ten minutes later and fall face first into the sand, he ignores the droplet of blood El gently wipes away from her nose. He makes them reapply sunscreen every few hours, much to their chagrin. Robin is finally coaxed out from beneath her umbrella, cutting gracefully through the water with Steve as they float aimlessly on their back, staring up at the endless blue sky.

“Do you think you’d want a roommate?” she asks softly, and Steve frowns in confusion before he picks up her train of thought.

“I mean, of course I would. They’d have to be cool though. And have good taste in movies.”

“Hard to find that combo,” Robin says sagely, “You might end up with me instead.”

“I suppose that’s not so bad,” Steve concedes, and suddenly the day is even brighter than before.

Jonathan’s car pulls up just after four, and Steve double checks to make sure nobody is interested in staying any longer. He, personally, is ready to leave. His skin is just on the right side of too hot, and Robin has fallen asleep on one of the chairs with her hat over her face. The kids are obviously tired, and Jonathan insists he doesn’t mind dropping them all off.

“You do it all the time, man. Let someone else take the load off for once.”

The kids all chorus their goodbyes, and Steve packs everything up as quietly as he can before he disturbs Robin’s afternoon nap. She’s unimpressed to be awoken, but rests her head on the window as Steve drops her home.

“Did you mean it?” he asks as he pulls into the Buckley’s driveway, “About the roommate thing?”

“I mean, if you’re okay with it. I told my parents I’m not going to college until next year and they’re not happy about it. I meant what I said about wanting to experience life a little more, and what better place to start than getting a place with my best friend?”

Steve smiles, and Robin blows him a cheeky kiss as she steps out.

“Have sweet, sweet dreams, Steve,” she says with a smirk, because she’s a shithead.

“I’m meeting up with Eddie tonight,” he says in retaliation, seeing the way her jaw drops and she reaches for the door handle, but he’s already driving away, “Bye! See you tomorrow at seven thirty!”

“Steve Harrington!” she screeches, but he’s already laughing and halfway down the street.

His good mood lasts right up until he walks in the front door and he hears a distant “Steven?” from the dining room. His mother is laying out the silverware and she turns as he comes into the room, her eyes looking him up and down and blinking.

“Oh, were you at the pool?”

“Uh, the quarry. I’ve been taking up swimming again, and the lake is always packed.”

It’s only kind of a lie. He doesn’t think his mother would really have a problem with him being out there, but after the discussions yesterday he doesn’t think it’s wise to admit that he was there with both Robin and the kids he babysits.

“Oh. You couldn’t use the pool?”

Steve shakes his head, “Practicing some free diving stuff, pool’s not deep enough.”

His mother smiles and she adjusts one of the plates with a small sigh, “Well, your father wants dinner for six, so if you’d like to get cleaned up and come back down, it’ll be ready.”

Steve had been planning on just changing into jeans, but he sees the way his mother’s eyes linger on his damp, stringy hair and he assumes there will be some kind of debate if he doesn’t at least shower. He washes his hair as fast as possible, scrubbing it dry with a towel and trying to make it somewhat presentable so his father doesn’t have anything to complain about. He changes into his jeans and a yellow sweater before going back into the dining room, taking a deep breath before plastering a smile on his face.

His father looks up as Steve walks in, taking in his appearance but saying nothing. His mother sets a steak in front of them both and takes her seat. Steve doesn’t even get to reach for his knife and fork before his father is talking.

“So, you’ll begin work at the firm in August. Monday, Wednesday and Friday from nine to five- just to start. You’ll be working under Donald Shaw, he’s a good man and there’s nothing he appreciates more than a show of proper respect and a good suit, so we’ll have you go to the tailor and get a few before your first day. He also enjoys golf, so while your mother and I are gone, consider taking him out to the range a few times. Butter him up. He’s hesitant about this, Steven, but you’ll win him over.”

Steve nods and spears a carrot with his fork.

“Your mother has a friend in her little committee, Deborah something-”

“Donna,” she corrects gently, “Donna Summerland.”

Steve’s dad ignores the correction, “She’s got a daughter graduating this year from a boarding school in Indianapolis, her name is Lisa. She’ll be doing secretarial work through the week, and I think your mother and I agree that the two of you would have a lot in common.”

Steve really doubts it, but he nods again.

“Donna says Lisa’s moving back to Hawkins right after graduation, so we’ve organized for you to have Donna and Lisa over for dinner while we’re away, but you and Lisa should make a day of it. A lot has changed in Hawkins this year, you can show her around and get to know her a little better before you both start.”

Steve nods again, wondering if he could convince Keith to give him a raise. He’s not a great employee, but even an extra fifty cents an hour would make a difference in his savings.

“Are you listening, Steven?”

“Yes,” he says automatically, looking up to lock eyes with his father, “I’m listening.”

His father levels him with a flat stare and continues cutting his steak, eyes darting from Steve to Steve’s mother as he speaks again, and Steve immediately zones out. The rest of dinner goes fine, all things considered. He clears his plate and kisses his mother’s cheek, apologizing for the fact he has a date.

“Seems a waste of time,” his father says, “Lisa Summerland is a nice girl.”

“I wouldn’t want to offend Jennifer by canceling so late,” Steve grits out with a tight smile, “It would be rude.”

His father can’t argue against that, and only makes a comment about the state of Steve’s shoes as he leaves. Steve deliberately scuffs them in the dirt, just a little more. It makes him feel better.

Eddie had said any time after eight on Sunday night would be fine, so Steve pulls up at quarter after. The beat up Ford that Eddie's uncle drives is gone, but Eddie's van is there. Steve knocks, and gets no response. He frowns, knocking louder and waiting. There's a shuffling from inside, a thud and a rattle muffled by a curse before the door swings open. Eddie is shirtless, his new tattoo of three D&D dice dark on his chest and ringed pale pink. But that isn't the only mark that Steve sees, eyes falling on a red and purple mark on his opposite collarbone, the perfect shape of a mouth, complete with the faintest hint of teeth.

"Shit, is it eight already?" Eddie asks, rubbing his face and blinking rapidly.

Steve forces down the sick, disappointed feeling in his stomach and nods, "Yeah, but if I'm interrupting-"

"Interrupting what?"

Steve glances pointedly at the mark, and Eddie looks down with a half frown.

"Oh. Ah, no. That's from this weekend. There was- there was a friend."

"Some friend."

It comes out flatter, sharper than he means it to but Eddie either doesn't notice or doesn't comment. He steps back and lets Steve inside, and as he turns around Steve sees the trail of red scratches along his back. Steve has had those marks before, knows exactly how he got the girl underneath him to leave them.

"It's just a casual thing, if we're both single when I'm there. Which we were, so..."

Steve raises his hands, "Hey man, you don't have to defend yourself to me. I've been there."

He hasn't had a consistent friend with benefits, ever. But he has hooked up with the same girl a few times, a three or four night stand because the sex was good and the chemistry was fine. Eddie has disappeared into his room and reemerges with a shirt on.

"If you're tired, dude-"

Eddie opens the refrigerator and pulls out a soda, tossing another to Steve that he catches out of the air with one hand.

"No, seriously. I lay down for like a second and then suddenly it's fucking eight. Not my intention at all."

Steve leans against the kitchen counter, all bravado and half baked plans tossed to hell. It's not like he blames Eddie for hooking up with someone, Eddie isn't doing it to make Steve's stomach feel like it's being ripped open by demobats all over again. He's a guy with needs. Just like Steve.

They hadn't made any solid plans for their hangout, but Steve declines when Eddie pulls out a bag of weed and a small sleeve of papers.

"Trying to cut back, my parents are home. My mom has a nose like a K-9 unit. Wouldn't be surprised if my dad shines a flashlight in my eyes when I get back."

It's not a lie, but he's not sure his mother would care too much about weed. His father does, calling it a gateway drug and Steve needs to just say no. On the rare nights when they're home, Steve has taken to crawling out his window at night before bed, sitting on the roof ledge to smoke and hoping it doesn't drift towards his parents window. Eddie sucks his teeth.

"Always welcome to change your mind. The band geeks want some for this week though, so do you mind if I roll a few?"

Steve shakes his head and sits down at the table beside Eddie, watching as he carefully plucks the weed from the bag and lays it out, rolling each joint perfectly and tight, wetting the paper with his tongue and sealing it closed.

"You're good at that."

"I'd hope so, I do it enough."

It's calming, somehow, to watch the repetitive motions. Eddie has twelve joints lined neatly on the table, the thirteenth caught between his pointer and middle finger thoughtfully. Steve's mind is a million miles away; his side is aching and head too full of thoughts but also somehow totally empty. He feels a soft kick on his ankle and looks up to find Eddie's dark eyes looking right at him.

"You going to tell me what's bothering you or do I have to pry it out of you?"

Steve starts, guilty and caught. He tries to think of a lie or an excuse. A good reason for why he's been acting like a fucking idiot ever since he set foot in the trailer.

"Don't even think about lying to me, Steve," Eddie says, teasingly firm, "I'll know. Talk to me. Pretend I'm Robin."

"I don't need to pretend you're Robin to talk to you," he says, frowning at the implication.

Eddie shrugs and begins to pack away the joints and papers, stashing the baggie of weed into the black metal lunchbox.

"So then talk to me. You look like.."

"A scared rabbit?" Steve offers when Eddie doesn't have the words. Eddie smiles.

"Nah, you're something way cooler than a scared rabbit."

Eddie stands up and stuffs the baggie of joints into his backpack, staring into it for a long moment before standing back up.

"You should tell me what's bothering you. Because otherwise it's going to eat into our celebration time, and we can't have that."

Steve frowns in confusion. "What are we celebrating?"

Eddie reaches for his backpack again and fiddles with the zip, suddenly looking shy.

"Officially I'm not supposed to know yet. But I think at this point Ms. O'Donnell is taking pity on me. She gave me this on Friday."

Eddie removes a crumpled piece of paper from the bag and smooths it out on the kitchen table. It's his English final, with a large, red letter C at the top. Steve stares.

"You passed."

"I passed, baby! You are looking at a soon to be graduate of class of '86."

Steve lunges out of the chair and grabs Eddie in a hug, arms tight around his shoulders and laughter bubbling in his throat. Eddie fucking Munson passed his English final, with a C grade. He feels Eddie's arms come up around him, clapping him on the back. It makes Steve realize what he's done, and he pulls back awkwardly. They've never hugged, weirdly enough. They've shared a bed and sat side by side, but never actually hugged one another. It had been different, but not in a bad way. Steve has hugged guys before, but it was mostly the standard bro hug, which never lasted more than three seconds and always included a handshake or a back slap. He'd hugged Jonathan, which had been awkward in its own special way, but very different. Eddie was warm, fitting easily into Steve's arms and the perfect height for him to hook his chin over his shoulder.

"So, what do you want to celebrate?" Steve asks, hoping the change in subject will steer them away from his weird mood. He feels even worse now, stupid for his stupid feelings killing the happy news. Eddie drops the backpack to the ground and steps closer.

"I want you to tell me what's going on."

"That's a lame gift."

"I'm a lame gift kind of guy."

"I'll remember that for graduation."

Eddie gives him a flat stare and takes another step closer, "Steve. Come on."

“I had a bad day yesterday,” Steve admits, “I guess I didn’t realize how much shit I was trying to ignore and it all kind of crept up on me. Big emotional overload. I guess I’m just still getting over it.”

He takes a drink from the soda can and scratches the back of his neck, feeling the tightness of sensitive skin and wondering if maybe Robin had been right when she told him to put some sunscreen on.

“And my parents,” he says lamely, “They’re kind of a lot. And I wasn’t expecting to have to deal with their shit on top of all the other shit. They’ve ah-” he laughs humorlessly, “They’ve decided I’m going to work for my dad. They’ve also decided I’m going to marry some girl named Lisa Summerland. So that’s nice. I guess even when I think I’m doing alright, it’s still not up to their standards.”

Eddie is watching him carefully, and Steve feels like he wants to shift under the stare. Eddie reaches into a bowl by the door and jingles his keys with a smile.

"You want to get out of here?"

“Didn’t you literally just drive back from Indianapolis like, an hour ago?”

“Yeah, but you look like you could use a break and I have a specific way I like to unwind, so. You want to get out of here?” he repeats with another pointed jingle of the keys.

“Yeah, why not.”

They end up, of all places, at Lovers Lake. Steve raises his eyebrows as Eddie cuts the engine and jumps out, walking behind to open the van doors.

"You trying to get fresh with me, Munson?" He jokes, hoping his tone rides the lines properly, "because I usually require a date first."

"Good thing for me then, because usually isn't always."

Steve climbs out and looks up into the back of the van where Eddie is shaking out a blanket and throwing down some cushions. He sees Steve looking and winks, giving the blanket a hard shake.

"For your information, Harrington. I have not once had sex in the back of this van."

Steve leans on the doors with his arms folded, "I really don't believe that."

Eddie drops to his knees and straightens out the blanket, his shirt falling forward to show off his stomach and the trail of dark hair that disappears into his jeans.

"You suggesting I'm a liar?"

"I'm suggesting that you're a guy with a van who is reasonably attractive, and lives in a town with over ten well-known hookup spots. I'm really finding it hard to believe not once have you ever had sex back here."

Eddie leans back onto the cushions and tucks an arm behind his head.

"Did Steve Harrington just tell me I was attractive?"

Oh shit, Steve absolutely had, hadn't he?

"Reasonably attractive," he corrects, "don't cream your pants."

He climbs up into the van and lays down beside Eddie, mirroring his position and tucking an arm behind his head with ease. There's a walkman between them, headphones laid out on the blanket.

"I'm sorry about your parents, man."

"It's stupid to be annoyed by it, I know-"

"No it's not. Everyone has their shit and it's all hard in different ways. And that’s why we’re here, I come out here when shit just gets to be too much, you know? Since the whole serial killer thing there’s a lot less people, which means I can play my guitar or my music for however long I want, smoke some weed. Look at all the fucking stars and contemplate what other secrets the universe is holding out on me.”

He says the last part with a smile and Steve laughs. The thought has, actually, occurred to him too. If the Upside Down was real, what else was?

"You want some music? I have to fix the radio up front but this should do if we turn it up loud enough."

He’s got the walkman in his hands and Steve agrees, watching as Eddie cranks the volume and drops it back between them. Steve doesn’t recognise any of the songs, not that he expected to. They’re all the type of band Eddie would listen to, but as the tape plays on, Steve can hear the consistent thread in the lyrics, and he smiles sadly.

"Who did you make this for?" Steve asks softly, staring up at the roof of the van. He feels the way Eddie stiffens for half a second before he relaxes.

"What makes you think I made it for anyone?"

"I've made mixtapes, Eddie. And there's a big difference between a mixtape you make for yourself and a mixtape you make for someone else. Besides, all of these songs are romantic as shit.”

The mixtapes Steve makes for himself are an eclectic mix of whatever tune is circling in his head at the time, no thought put into the track order or lyrics. When he’d made a mixtape for Nancy, he had spent days choosing the songs, even longer trying to sort them into the order that felt perfect. He tells Eddie this, and Eddie smiles.

“You got me. I made it for someone, but they won’t connect the dots.”

“It’s a clearly romantic mixtape,” Steve protests, “They’d have to be next level stupid to not get it.”

Eddie is laughing and Steve can’t help but smile, but he’s not sure the joke was that funny. He shrugs and rolls over onto his side, head propped onto his hand.

“Okay, well if they’re not going to get it, why bother being subtle? Why not just ask them out?”

He ignores the gnawing ache in his gut when he suggests it. He’s never seen Eddie with anyone, and wonders if maybe he’s more interested in his Indianapolis hookup than she is in him, and he knows how much that fucking sucks.

“Absolutely not.” Eddie responds immediately, and Steve laughs.

“Scared?" Steve teases, and Eddie smiles.

"Well they're way out of my league, and I can honestly never quite get a read on what they’re thinking, so yeah."

Steve can’t really picture anyone being out of Eddie’s league, if he’s honest. But he can’t say that, so instead just shrugs.

"Their loss then, I guess."

Eddie looks at him with that look Steve doesn't understand. He wants so badly to know what it means, what Eddie is thinking when he looks at him like that.

"You're kind of a softie, Harrington."

Steve smacks him with a cushion, smiling when he hears Eddie’s surprised squawk of protest. Steve is laughing, head dipped and eyes closed and when he opens them Eddie is smiling as well. There’s a moment where Steve thinks Eddie is about to say something, but then a familiar piano intro hits his ears and he smiles.

“Is this Journey?” he asks in disbelief, watching as Eddie runs a hand down his face with a groan.

“They have one good song,” Eddie says defensively, “and this is it.”

“Wheels go round and round, you’re on my mind,” Steve sings softly, tipping his head back, “Restless hearts-”

“I’m begging you to shut up, Steve. Begging.”

“Sending all my love along the wire!”

The cushion he had smacked Eddie with hits him in the face and he laughs, gripping his stomach and rolling onto his back at the pink creeping up the back of Eddie’s neck.

“I’m forever yours,” he can’t help but sing, a little breathless from laughing, “Faithfully.”

Eddie doesn’t reply, and Steve closes his eyes and lets the music wash over him. The song comes to an end and Steve is smiling so hard his face hurts. Eddie fucking Munson likes a Journey song.

“That would’ve been my song, you know,” he admits softly, “For Vecna.”

“Are you seriously telling me that your favorite song in the entire world is Faithfully by Journey, Steve? Because that concerns me.”

“It’s actually a tie between that and Dreams by Fleetwood Mac,” Steve says seriously, and Eddie rolls his eyes.

“Anything by Fleetwood Mac is acceptable, but if you’d made me play Faithfully to stop you from dying, we wouldn’t be friends.”

“And yet there it was,” Steve teases, “on your romantic mixtape.”

“Please don’t call it that.”

“No, no I’m going to call it that.”

“You know, you’re still such a douchebag sometimes-”

“You can’t hate me for calling it like it is, Eddie.”

They fall quiet again, elbows bumping as they lay in the back of the van. The mixtape ends and Steve knows he should go home, knowing by how the moon is sitting in the sky that his parents are going to be annoyed.

“I really don’t want to go home,” Steve admits quietly, “I’m in a good mood and they’re going to ruin it.”

"You could always crash with me at the trailer. You said they leave first thing, right? So what if you don't go home. Not like they can be mad about it until they come back."

It's so tempting of an offer to take up for so many reasons, and it surprises Steve that at the top of the list is the fact that he genuinely does just not want to go home. He could sit out here with Eddie for hours if it came to it, shooting the shit and listening to music.

“Okay.”

The trailer park is dark when they pull up, only bleached in color by the half moon in the sky. Eddie gives Steve a pair of pants to sleep in, pointing out the bathroom and dropping down on his bed.

“Not exactly as nice as yours, but it’ll do.”

The mattress is, Steve can admit, not the most comfortable. It’s kind of lumpy and much smaller than his own, forcing them to lay so close that Steve feels Eddie’s thigh on his own.

“By the way, you tell anyone that I had a Journey song on that tape and I’ll hunt you down and shave your head.”

The words startle a laugh out of Steve and he hides his face in the pillow to cover the dumb grin he knows is spreading across his face.

“Your secret is safe with me.”

Steve wakes up with Eddie's hair in his mouth and the hard line of his body tucked into his arms. Steve’s arm is rested on Eddie’s hip, his chest flush to Eddie’s back. He groans and pressed his forehead to the dip between Eddie’s shoulder blades and carefully extricates himself, standing as quietly as possible and heading for the bathroom before his bladder explodes. The clock tells him it’s five thirty, which means it is too god damned early.

He stumbles out of the bathroom and almost has a heart attack when he sees someone who isn't Eddie standing in the kitchen, watching him over the rim of a mug.

"Good morning."

Steve blinks tiredly and raises a hand in greeting, "Uh, good morning. I'm Steve."

"Wayne."

He's wearing faded blue jeans and an untucked button down. Steve remembers Eddie mentioning that his uncle works at the plant just outside Hawkins and does the night shifts for the extra money. He's trying to come up with acceptable small talk when he hears Eddie bump into the wall behind him.

"God, Harrington why the fuck are you awake this early- oh, hi Wayne."

"Good morning, Eddie."

Steve is going to panic, he can feel it. There's nothing about Wayne Munson that suggests he's the violent type, but Steve knows if his father was the one watching this situation unfold, they would be in for a reckoning. He's expecting the worst until Eddie claps a hand on Steve's shoulder.

"Wayne, this is Steve Harrington. The one who fought the serial killer. Steve, this is my uncle Wayne."

“Harrington?" Wayne repeats, and Steve’s panic skyrockets again. His mother is fairly well respected, she brings food to bake sales and donates to charities, organizes roadside trash collection endeavors. His father, on the other hand…

“Yeah, uh, you probably know my dad. He’s kind of a dick. I promise I’m not.”

Wayne smiles in surprise and Eddie laughs as he reaches into the refrigerator and drinks milk straight from the carton. Wayne seems to have relaxed, but sighs tiredly at the sight of his nephew.

“Eddie, have some manners.”

Eddie wipes his mouth and politely offers the milk carton out to Steve, who refuses with a smile. This isn’t as weird as he thought it would be, given how the interaction had started. Wayne doesn’t seem to find it weird that his nephew has a guy sleeping over in his room with one bed and not a scrap of floorspace to be seen, and is wearing his clothes. Wayne finishes whatever he was drinking and sets the mug in the sink, clapping a large hand on Eddie’s shoulder as he walks past.

“I’m turning in, try not to make a racket on your way to school.”

Eddie bids his uncle goodnight and Steve offers him a nod of acknowledgement, which is returned. Steve waits until the door to the second bedroom has closed and he turns to Eddie.

“He seems cool.”

“He is.” Eddie says with a soft, quiet appreciation. They head back to Eddie’s room, the early morning light barely managing to crack between the blinds. Eddie rolls ungracefully back into bed and Steve climbs in beside him. It felt somehow more awkward to do this the second time, to come back to bed with Eddie instead of going to it. Eddie mashes his pillow with one hand and kicks the blankets down around his feet.

“You can ask, you know.”

“Ask what?”

“About my parents. Everyone does eventually.”

Steve keeps his eyes fixed on the ceiling and gives an uninterested shrug, “I figure you’ll tell me if you want to. You don’t have to talk about yours just because I talk about mine.”

Eddie falls quiet, and Steve thinks he’s fallen asleep again until he starts talking.

“They were young and stupid, high school sweethearts who got pregnant at sixteen and couldn’t handle the pressure. My mom was alright, she tried her best. She taught me how to play guitar, she was convinced she was going to be Stevie Nicks when she got older, and I could play backup for her. But my dad; his family thought he should have done a lot better than a trailer park living high school dropout. He bailed when I was six. I had behavior issues, and he couldn’t deal. They’d never gotten married, so he just left one day, didn’t even say goodbye. Not a huge loss, not to me anyway. Killed my mom a little though.”

Steve inches his hand across the space between them to where Eddie has his hand splayed on the mattress, fingers drumming fast and hard. He gently places his hand atop Eddie’s, ceasing the movement.

“You don’t need to tell me this.”

“I want to, Harrington. Shut up and be a good listener.”

He clears his throat and continues, “Then I guess she realized how hard it was to be a single parent. I was a shit kid, my grades weren’t awful but they sure weren’t great. She and Wayne were born ten years apart and he was older, so she was always going to him for help when things fell apart. He always helped her though, and didn't once turn us away. But then I think she realized she could drop me off with him and take off for a few days, live her adult life the way she wanted. I was twelve, maybe thirteen when I came home one day and she and Wayne were fighting. She had the chance to sing for a band, an actual band with a manager and everything. He told her she couldn’t just up and leave, and she said she’d be back. She promised.”

“Did she come back?” Steve asks quietly, almost afraid of the answer no matter what it was.

“Oh, she sure did,” Eddie drawls, “High off her ass and begging for cash. She wanted to take me with her this time, said her band had been dropped by the manager but they were going to make it work. It’s the only time I’ve ever seen Wayne actually yell. She tried to get me to leave, told me I had to pick between her and Wayne and if I picked Wayne she’d never come back. I was fifteen, hadn’t seen her in two years. I told her to fuck off and never come back. And she hasn’t.”

Steve is still gripping Eddie’s hand, eyes fixed on the dark ceiling.

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m not.”

They don’t say anything else. Steve falls asleep at some point, wakes up to the blaring of Eddie’s alarm what feels like only seconds later. Eddie gropes blindly for it; knocking over an empty glass, a pen, and a squished granola bar before he shuts it off.

“God, I am so ready to walk that stage,” he groans into his pillow, “and never wake up this early ever again.”

Steve sees that clock reads seven am, and he sighs heavily.

“I have to get Robin in a half hour, I should go.”

“We should really teach that girl to drive,” Eddie mumbles, eyes still closed.

“Be my guest. You can teach Dustin while you’re at it.”

“Absolutely not.”

Something about the conversation feels weird, and it isn’t until Eddie rolls over and jams the pillow over his head that Steve realizes he used to have conversations like this with Nancy. He hated mornings, hated listening to his alarm go off and he and Nancy would trade sleepy conversation for a while before getting up and getting ready for school together. The thought makes him sit up, wiping at his eyes and grabbing for his jeans. He’s having domestic morning conversations with Eddie Munson, who made a mixtape with a Journey song on it for some chick. He’s setting himself up for heartbreak and he can’t even bring himself to care, because he didn’t have a single nightmare last night and he feels more rested than he ever has.

“I’ll see you sometime this week?”

“Probably.” Eddie agrees, voice muffled from under the pillow, “You feelin’ better?”

Steve pauses, buttoning his jeans and thinking about it for a moment. He does feel good, for the first time in a long time.

“I do, yeah. Thanks.”

Eddie lifts the pillow and smiles tiredly, “Anytime, man.”

Steve lets himself out and drives straight to Robin’s, finding her already bouncing on the sidewalk outside her house. She flings the door open and climbs in.

“You need to tell me how last night went. I need details. Right now, Steve. Right now.”

“So remember how yesterday I said it was just a stupid crush and I’d get over it?”

“Yeah?”

“I was totally wrong. I’m actually completely fucked.”

Robin blinks at him, and Steve smiles.

“You want a bagel?” he asks, “I think I want a bagel.”

“Ah, sure. Sure, let’s get a bagel. Steve?”

“Mmm?”

“You didn’t actually answer the question.”

“Oh. Well,”

He tells her everything, leaving out the part about Eddie passing his English final, because Eddie deserves to be the one who tells her. He leaves out the hickey and the scratches, and the conversation about Eddie’s parents. Robin listens carefully, nodding along with everything and resting one arm on the window. They get bagels, and Steve drives with his knees as he stuffs it in his mouth, talking around it and answering every question Robin throws his way. By the time they get to Hawkins High, Robin is looking thoughtfully out her window.

“Hey Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you know what a context clue is?”

It's so out of left field that he frowns, and Robin giggles, “I know, it’s a weird question. But humor me.”

Syteve eyes her suspiciously, but thinks back to his English classes. He remembers Nancy coaxing him through one of his papers, encouraging him to look deeper into what was being suggested, and not just said.

“It’s a thing from English class. It’s like, all the stuff around you that you need to put together to make an opinion or am observation or whatever. The little shit. Why?”

She smiles and shakes her head, leaning in and pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“No reason. Pick me up at three?”

“Robin, I’m very confused right now.”

She turns on her heel and smiles, walking backwards towards the school, “Use the context clues, Steve. You’ll get there eventually.”

He watches her disappear into the bustle of students and blinks, slumping back in his seat.

The hell was that supposed to mean?