Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Steve

Steve wheels his car into as close of a parking space at the dorm building as he can find. It's still a hike back to the door, but it'll have to do for now. He pulls the do-it-yourself shelving box out of his trunk and jogs back across the parking lot with it. He's been helping move Robin into her dorm room at college all weekend, and they realized earlier that she probably needed a shelf for storage, so he ran to Walmart and found something that should work.

He's made that same trip half a dozen times this weekend, for one thing or another. He had no idea moving into a dorm was so much work. Movies make it seem like you just drop them off at the curb and wave goodbye. 

That has definitely not been Steve's experience. 

So far he's had to go buy a rug, because the tile was too cold on her feet. A set of bedding, because apparently the dorm has extra long beds? He doesn't know. All he knows is her sheets wouldn't fit and Robin was freaking the fuck out, so he found a mom in the hall and just asked what he needed to buy. She sent him to the store looking for twin XL bedding. Apparently that's a thing and it should have been in her orientation packet.

Robin was panicking about the unexpected extra costs, but he just pulled out his platinum card and waved her off. It's not a big deal. She can pay him back later, or not. He doesn't really care either way at the moment. 

He had to run and buy himself a couple new shirts, socks, underwear, deodorant and a toothbrush, because he hadn't planned on staying overnight. Twice.

It is not lost on him that he's wearing cheap, dorky clothes and his hair looks terrible without his own products, all while he's surrounded by a sea of college girls. That's just his fucking luck. 

His only condolence is that they definitely weren’t paying any attention to him before his change of clothes either, so he takes the loss and moves on. 

He's there to focus on Robin, anyway, and has spent most of the weekend alternating between doing the heavy lifting and hugging her tight, assuring her that she’s going to do great. That it’s going to be so great. She’s a nervous wreck, so Steve stays until she’s finally comfortable enough for him to leave on Sunday evening. 

Her new roommate definitely thinks he’s Robin's overly clingy high school boyfriend. He can understand why she thinks that, since they were sharing a bed. But he didn't really have much choice but to cling to her unless he wanted to fall out on his ass. Either way, neither of them made any corrections. If Robin wants to use him as a cover story until she's comfortable, he's fine with that. 

He might not be her boyfriend, but they are definitely co-dependant, so splitting hairs seems like a waste of everyone's time. 

Steve hugs Robin tight, kisses her on the forehead and promises to call soon. Tells her she can call him, day or night. 

He’s going to miss her like crazy, and doesn't want to be left behind, alone, but he refuses to put that stress on her. He wants her to have fun, to succeed. To get the fuck out of Hawkins. If he takes his own selfish wants out of the equation, he hopes she cuts and runs and never comes back to that hellhole. 

Hawkins has been quiet since summer ended. With the bustle of back to school over, Steve feels a little more adrift than ever before.

The kids have started up for the year and are all busy with new activities, old friends. He’s happy for them too, he wants them to have a normal year for once. It’s been so goddamn hard the past few years, so traumatizing, that he hopes that they are able to just worry about dumb high school bullshit and nothing more.

Steve kills the engine of his car in front of the video store. He hates it here without Robin, but doesn’t have the energy to look for something else. So he’s just going through the motions, coasting. Aimless, shiftless. 

Everyone else has moved on and Steve feels stagnant. He's still working his dead-end job, still trying to pick up the same chicks. He's almost twenty. He's going to have to give up dating fresh out of high school girls before he's known as the townie perv that people whisper about. 

The only bright spot, which is very much hit-or-miss, is Eddie. Eddie is still popping into the video store to bother Steve or just showing up at Steve’s house, late at night. Crashing there for days at a time. Sleeping on the couch fully dressed, refusing to just take a guest room. 

Steve oscillates between being entertained by Eddie or being really, really annoyed. Steve accepts that it is a day-by-day situation, where he never knows how it is going to go until they are in the thick of it for the day. He thinks he likes Eddie (most days, anyway) but on others he finds Eddie to be the most irritating person he’s ever met. 

Eddie had graduated. The school had given him his diploma, if he promised to just take it and not walk across the stage. Eddie took the deal. Steve thinks that’s a bunch of bullshit, but he understands the desire to just keep your head down. The town is still pretty shitty towards him, but Eddie seems to just shrug it off most days. Steve isn’t sure how he does it, honestly.

Afraid of a lawsuit, or worse, a leak, the government offered Eddie a settlement. An eye-wateringly large settlement, to just shut the fuck up about everything he saw and everything that happened to him. Eddie took that deal, too. Signing the NDA and taking the big payout. Steve sat next to him while Dr. Owens explained everything, goons in black suits standing guard. 

“I can still talk about it with those people that were there, right?” Eddie had asked, pen hovering over the paper, glancing at Steve, then back at Dr. Owens.

Steve could tell Dr. Owens and his team wanted to say no, to tell him he had to pretend it never happened at all. But he must have seen the scared boy, the traumatized kid, sitting there, just like Steve could see with his own eyes.

Finally, Dr. Owens conceded that it would be okay to talk to his friends that were there and already knew, but nobody else. Uncle Wayne knows, at least the bare minimum, but they weren’t going to disclose that information. It’s kinda hard to completely ignore a closed-off portal to hell in the ceiling of one’s own living room.

Steve pretended he didn’t see Eddie’s hand shaking as he signed the document and took the money.

When they got back into the car, Eddie was quiet. Steve fumbled around in his stash of tapes, finally popping the one he’d been looking for into the tape deck.

Eddie laughed, truly laughed, and Steve laughed with him. 

“We should do something, like a road trip,” Eddie suggests, sitting on the counter at the video store, kicking his feet, making a racket. He’s annoying Steve today, it’s just one of those days. Steve grits his teeth.

Steve’s first instinct is to say no, no way in hell is he trapping himself in a car with Eddie Munson. But getting out of town wouldn’t be the worst idea in the world. They both have money to burn. He's saved most of his paychecks and the generous allowance his parents have dumped into his bank account each month, like clockwork, since he was barely a teen.  They aren't always present all that often, but they have always made sure he has whatever he needs, money wise. 

Well, except for that summer at Scoops Ahoy when his dad thought he could teach him a lesson. But by that fall, the regular deposits were back hitting his account, and neither of them ever mentioned it again. 

Steve doesn't know if they just gave up on him ever making something of himself, or if they felt guilty that he was almost killed in the “mall fire” or if they just flat-out fucking forgot they were ever supposed to be mad about something in the first place. 

Either way, if he quits this depressing job, they’d both have the time. He only took it because he wanted to keep working with Robin and she's gone now, so. 

“We could take the van,” Eddie offers. 

Steve looks out the front windows at the van sitting in the parking lot, and no fucking thanks. “My car would definitely get better gas mileage.” And be more dependable, but Steve won't say that part out loud. He tries not to be rude, if he can get out ahead of his mouth. He's not always successful, but he tries. 

Eddie smiles, pulling his hair over his mouth to hide it. Steve can tell he’s pleased that Steve is even considering this idea.

Later that night, after closing the video store, Steve warms up a frozen dinner in the oven, and eats it by himself in front of the TV. It is not an exciting life he's living these days. Confining himself in a car with Eddie Munson would definitely be interesting, he's absolutely sure of that. 

Steve decides to sleep on it. It would definitely be an adventure. Maybe it would even be fun. 

Or maybe Steve will spend the rest of his life in prison while he maintains that it was a justifiable homicide. 

It could really go either way. 

Eddie 

“If we do this, there will be rules,” Steve says, hands on his hips. He always looks like a really pissed off mom when he does that, and it tickles Eddie. He’s made it a goal to see how many times he can make Steve do it in any given day. He thinks the standing record is somewhere around seven. If they spend excessive amounts of time together on a road trip, he’s sure he can break into double-digits. But they'd be sitting in a car a lot, and that would definitely make it harder to accomplish. He’ll figure it out. He has faith in himself. 

“Rules?” Eddie asks, baiting him. Baiting Steve is his new favorite hobby. He loves to see just how fast he can get Steve wound up.  He's usually pretty efficient at it. Which leads to Steve's hands on his hips, pissy, which is the ultimate goal. It's a nice feedback loop Eddie's built, if he doesn't say so himself. 

“Rules. Like, there’ll be no eating in my car. You’re not driving my car. No heavy metal,” Steve keeps listing, “you’re not picking up women and fucking them in m-”

“I'll try to control myself,” Eddie interrupts with a quip, a smirk. Fucking girls in Steve’s car, or anywhere else for that matter, isn’t going to be an issue, unless something pretty fundamental shifts in him. 

Steve continues, completely ignoring Eddie, “You’ll wipe your feet. You’re not dragging dirt all over my car. No hitchhikers. No cutesy road games. No smoking in the car. I’m not paying for all the gas.”

“Ass, gas or grass, got it,” Eddie says, like he's taking this very seriously. He is not taking this seriously. 

Steve rolls his eyes. Eddie thinks Steve is kind of a stick in the mud, but he still likes being around him, he truly does. 

"I really want to do this with you,” Eddie says, sarcasm dripping from his voice, “it sounds like a lot of fun for me.”

“Shut up,” Steve answers, “it just can’t be a free-for-all, Munson.” 

“Anyone ever tell you that you’re a little uptight, Harrington?” Eddie asks, genuinely curious. How was this person ever the coolest guy in high school? He’s such a square.

“Once or twice,” Steve admits, and that makes Eddie grin. At least King Steve is aware of his shortcomings.

Eddie plows ahead, “I’ll get us fake IDs. We can drink. Hit Vegas. Whatever we want to do. The world is our oyster. The king and his court jester,” he bows to Steve at the waist, dramatically.

Steve is rubbing his eyebrow like he already regrets agreeing to this. That makes Eddie smile. 

Steve picks him up early Friday morning. Uncle Wayne comes outside onto the front step and waves at Steve, and Eddie sees Steve wave back before getting out. 

“Make sure he calls every few days,” Wayne tells Steve, nodding towards Eddie.

Eddie had already promised to do it, so he feels a little like they are just ganging up on him at this point. They do that a lot. They had sat together many afternoons, plotting the best way for Eddie to invest his money and maximize the return. Steve eventually made an appointment with his, well, his dad's, financial advisor. They all three went together. 

Eddie isn't sure what the hell they did, but his money they put away is actually growing, which is awesome. 

“I'll make sure he calls,” Steve says, shaking Wayne’s hand.

Eddie feels like they are treating him like a little kid that needs babysitting. He’s older than Steve for Christ’s sake. 

Eddie hugs Wayne, "The kids are coming next Saturday to help you move."

"I can do it myself, you know," Wayne grumbles.

"I know, but let them help you. I already paid them to help. Make them earn it, old man. And don’t let them rifle through my shit. I’m serious. If I find out Henderson has pawed through all my belongings-"

“Yes, yes, or you’ll have both our asses. We’re all very scared of you,” Wayne interrupts, with just a hint of a smirk, and Eddie doesn’t miss the quick glance Wayne gives Steve, who is trying not to laugh.

Eddie knows they’ve both heard this all before, but he doesn’t appreciate their collusion in making fun of him. 

Negotiating a free upgraded relocation for Uncle Wayne into his government deal, was really his only non-negotiable sticking point. Either they agreed to it, or he wouldn’t sign. They begrudgingly agreed. They couldn't stay in this trailer, it was too depressing. Eddie had packed up all his stuff before leaving, now it's just sitting in his room in boxes, waiting for move-in day to arrive. It feels weird that this is the last time he'll ever call this place home. He grew up here. When he gets back, he'll live somewhere brand new. 

Steve

He’s helping Eddie put his bags in the trunk when Eddie sees the nailbat, "Dude. Are you trying to get us both felonies if we get stopped by the cops?" 

Steve hadn't thought of that. He’s never thought of that, in all the years he’s carried it in his trunk. Maybe he should have thought of that?

"Correction, are you trying to get me a felony? You in your polo shirt, with your BMW and your rich daddy will sure as shit be fine, I'm sure." 

"It's just always in my trunk, just in case. We can drop it off at the house before we leave if you want to," Steve offers, hoping he looks as sheepish as he feels.

"Nah, but let's at least take it out of plain sight, man." 

Steve nods, putting it under the tent and the sleeping bags, and the stack of towels he grabbed at the last minute, just in case. 

“Are we planning on camping?” Eddie asks, looking skeptically at the pile of stuff in the trunk. 

“Just in case,” Steve says, “you never know.”

Steve has several contingency plans. 

When they settle into the car, Steve drops the Rand McNally atlas into Eddie's lap. "Get acquainted. This is your new best friend. Your new Bible." 

"Oh. Um, I didn’t know I’d need to be able to read a map," Eddie says quietly, and Steve's heart jumps. Then Eddie laughs, flipping it open, "I'm fucking with you." 

"You're an asshole," Steve laughs, but it was going to be much harder if Eddie couldn't read a map. 

"Fair warning, though, I do have a shitty internal compass. Once we’re out of, well, Hawkins, basically." 

Steve isn't bothered, "I think mine's pretty good, but if not, I borrowed this from Dustin," he tells Eddie, pulling a little globe compass from the center console, suctioning it to the dash. 

“If that thing starts going haywire, we’re heading in the other direction. We are not heroes on this trip,” Eddie says, completely serious.

“Okay,” Steve says.

“No, I need to hear you say it, Harrington,” Eddie presses him.

“We are not heroes,” Steve says, appeasing him.

“Do you have a route in mind?” Eddie asks, glancing over at Steve.

Steve makes a decision, one he is absolutely certain he’ll live to regret.

“I’ll drive, you navigate,” Steve says, handing the route planning over to Eddie, “I’ll let you know if I have any special requests.”

Eddie smiles wide, all the way to his eyes, so Steve can’t be too mad about turning over control to Eddie for this. Steve doesn’t really care where they go, or how they get there. He’s been on tons of vacations as a kid, Eddie had said he’s barely been out of Indiana. So, Steve can let Eddie decide, let Eddie see whatever he wants to see in this huge country.

"Okay, before we go, document check," Steve says. He grabs the manilla envelope on the backseat, "Passport. Birth certificate. Traveler's checks." He lifts his ass off the seat, gets out his wallet, makes sure it is there, “Driver’s license.” He also has his Amex platinum card, but doesn't mention it. 

Eddie unzips his backpack he’d tossed in the floorboard at his feet. He pulls out his certified copy of his birth certificate. "Uncle Wayne had to dig and dig, cussing me the whole time. I don't have a passport, though," he says, handing the piece of paper to Steve. He produces his wallet, quickly flashes it to Steve to show that he has his traveler's checks, which he didn't even understand until Steve took him to the bank to get them. And that he has his ID. 

"This and your driver's license is all you need to get back into the US if we go into Canada or Mexico. I think." 

"You think or you know, Harrington?" 

"You'll just have to find that out for yourself." 

“Oh, I do have this, though," Eddie says, pulling out a scrap of paper. It's paperclipped to their brand new fake IDs. He shows it to Steve. Harrington’s Car Rules. It’s a list of all the demands Steve had made the other day in the video store. Eddie paperclips it to the front of the atlas. 

“Just so we don’t forget your very important rules,” Eddie says, shit-eating grin on his face. 

Steve laughs and shakes his head as he pulls away from the trailer, away from Hawkins.

"Where to?" Steve asks when they hit the edge of town. 

Eddie studies the map on his lap. "Take 69, north." 

Steve nods and heads north, Dustin’s little compass bobbling on the dash. 

Eddie jams an Iron Maiden tape in the tape deck before they get out of Indiana, and marks it off his list with flourish. Steve thinks this is going to be a long couple weeks.