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Wayne knew the signs well enough, the pet names Eddie gifted whoever was on the other side of the telephone, the fact that he had heard Eddie play ‘Prisoner of Your Eyes’ at least three times a day in the past week, and started doing his eyeliner; Eddie had a boy. Over the past few years, well, Wayne wouldn’t consider them boyfriends, but Eddie had certainly had a handful of relations, and probably more that he didn’t know about when he drove up to Indianapolis for a day or two now and again. It usually went like this; for a month or two Eddie would be completely infatuated, Wayne would find shirts and socks that weren’t his boy’s tucked away here and there, hear him flirt over the phone late at night before he headed to work, and though he couldn’t prove it, he was certain that while he was at work Eddie would have his guest over, and then one day he would come home and Eddie would have red rimmed eyes and metal blasting.
Over the next few days he would hear venomous tirades against jocks, or how glam-metal wasn’t real metal, or even on one particularly dark occasion that Judas Priest was dumb (Eddie had retracted this statement within seventy-two hours), or whatever else Eddie could get away with eviscerating rather than tell Wayne about whatever boy had recently broken his heart. So while Eddie walked around with hearts in his eyes, Wayne waited for the inevitable consequence of living in small town in an unforgiving time. With every passing week without the breakdown, Wayne got more uneasy about how bad the fallout would be.
Eddie called this one sweetheart, baby, and oddly enough, princess, Wayne could not think of any man who would particularly appreciate that sentiment, but hey, he had also never dated a man. He had found a lavender sweater forgotten over the back of Eddie’s desk chair, a half eaten Tupperware container of chocolate chip cookies he knew for damn sure Eddie didn’t make, and sometimes when he came home in the early hours of the morning there was a pair of scuffed white Nikes by the door, though they were always gone by the time he woke up.
Wayne stepped into the trailer with his arms full of bags to find Eddie sitting on the counter, swinging his legs as he ate snickerdoodle cookie, an almost full Tupperware container sitting on his lap. Wayne set the bags on the table. Smiling around a cookie, Eddie offered him the container. Wayne took one, but turned the cookie over in his hands.
“You know we can talk about it,” Wayne said.
Eddie’s eyes widened.
“You’re a lot of things, boy, but subtle ain’t one of ‘em,” Wayne said, literally holding the evidence in his hand.
Wayne wasn’t exactly sure what to make of the cookies, they were goddamn delicious, but none of the other boys had ever done that. There had been no flowers, no mixtapes, and certainly no cookies. He didn’t quite know what to make of it.
“Stevie made them,” Eddie said.
Stevie was also a weird name for a guy. Wayne glanced down at his cookie, thought about the purple sweater, the fact that Eddie called this one ‘princess’. They had never exactly had a conversation, but Wayne had figured out pretty damn quick where Eddie’s preference lay when he found a magazine he could have done without seeing when grabbing some dirty laundry from his room.
“…Stevie’s your boy?” Wayne asked slowly.
Pink dusted Eddie’s face. “He’s just a friend.”
“Who sleeps in your bed?” Wayne raised an eyebrow.
“He doesn’t like being alone, and, um, I get nightmares, sometimes, so…” Eddie twisted a curl around his finger like a telephone cord.
“Am I ever gonna meet him?” Wayne asked.
“He doesn’t really do so well with like authority figures,” Eddie said, which raised all kind of alarm bells in Wayne’s head.
Wayne set the cookie aside. “I’ve met all your other friends.”
“Not all of them,” Eddie said.
Wayne realized with a start that was true, he didn’t know all the details of what exactly had happened over spring break, but aside from that Henderson boy, he didn’t know who exactly was entangled in that mess.
“I’m sure you’ll meet all of them eventually,” Eddie said quickly. “We just spend most of our time at Stevie’s, he likes having a full house, so I mean, the only person who really comes over here is him when it gets too quiet over there.”
Wayne gave him a considering look.
Eddie tangled his fingers together. “We really are just friends, I just… he’s just so… god, I don’t know how to describe it, he’s like this paladin that swore an oath of protection. Like he would take on the whole world to protect the people he cares about.”
His eyes were shining as he described this boy, talking about him like he walked right out of one of his fantasy books, a real life knight in shining armor.
“You know what you’re doing?” Wayne asked, even though he was certain his kid was about to get his heart shattered into a million pieces. Again.
“Yeah,” Eddie said with a little smile. “Yeah, I’ve got it all under control.”
Wayne nodded once, then went about putting away the groceries.
It was like he had broken a damn, suddenly he was hearing ‘Stevie came to the Hideout to see me play tonight, and he wore a band t-shirt and everything’, ‘Stevie sat in on our DND game tonight, and he told me he liked my new villain’, and ‘Stevie and I tried to make brownies tonight, they’re on the stove’. Still, despite the beat up sneakers, random baked goods, and whispers behind a closed bedroom door, Wayne never caught a glimpse of ‘Stevie’ until he came and knocked on his door.
Wayne opened the door to find Steve Harrington standing on the other side, looking like he wanted to flee to the safety of his maroon BMW parked a little ways away. As their eyes met, his spine straightened, shoulders squaring, and flashing a smile that he was sure won over the PTA in seconds. Wayne wondered if he should grab the crowbar he kept by the door incase Jason’s cronies ever decided to do anything other than tag the side of their trailer.
“Hi, Mr. Munson, um, I’m Steve, I’m a friend of Eddie’s?”
Wayne’s eyes flicked from the light blue sweater he was wearing, to the scuffed Nikes on his feet, to his fluffed up hair. ‘Stevie’ was Steve goddamn Harrington, former star of the Hawkins High basketball team, well-known ladies man, and Richard Harrington’s son, one of the meanest son of a bitches Wayne had ever had the displeasure of crossing paths with. Wayne was going to throttle his kid. Of all the people to fall ass over teakettle for and he chose Steve Harrington.
Steve appeared to take his silence as a sign that he could continue speaking. “And I know his birthday is coming up this week, and I wanted to hold a party for him, but I didn’t know if you had anything planned for the day, and I didn’t want to interfere if you did.”
Wayne looked at him like he had sprouted a second head.
Steve’s confidence slipped with every passing second, twisting the ring on his finger. “I, uh, if you did have plans I figured I would hold the party this weekend instead, but if you don’t, I figured I would hold it on Thursday? You would also be invited, of course, I don’t know if you would, um, be interested or if you had other plans? Uh…”
Wayne watched the boy flounder before him.
“I was going to host it at my house? Um, I can give you the address if you’d like, it would be small, just, y’know, friends, but Joyce Byers and Jim Hopper would be there too so it wouldn’t just be like kids if that helps…”
“I haven’t planned anything for Thursday,” Wayne said.
Steve brightened. “Great, okay, um, it’s kind of a surprise? Dustin’s going to be the one to bring him over at seven, but most people are going to start showing up at like six-thirty incase they’re a little early, but feel free to stop by whenever, or, um, don’t if you don’t want to. It’s 8253 Carlton Road if you feel like stopping by. Have a good day!”
Steve backed away as he spoke, raising his voice to compensate, and climbing into his BMW. Wayne watched from the trailer door as Steve peeled out of the trailer park, and disappeared. Closing the door he was half tempted to tell Eddie he had met his boy, shake him, and demand to know what the hell he was doing, but in doing so he would have to explain the surprise party aspect, and he couldn’t quite bring himself to ruin what would be Eddie’s first real birthday party. In previous years they had usually gone out for dinner wherever Eddie had liked and Wayne had bought him guitar strings, picks, dice, whatever the hell minis were for his campaign, and Eddie had celebrated (with weed and alcohol) with his bandmates on occasion, but he had never had a party. His parents certainly never threw him one when he was a kid. Wayne resigned himself to knocking some sense into him after the party.
Wayne felt out of place before he even knocked on the door to the mansion, walking up to the front door felt like he was going to get arrested for trespassing. Bracing himself, he knocked on the door. During the days leading up to the party he had found himself sick with the thought that this was some drawn out prank, that Eddie was going to turn up and find a house full of jocks and get the Carrie treatment. Steve opened the door wearing a familiar purple sweater, blue jeans, and mismatched socks. His hair was fluffed up to astounding heights.
“Mr. Munson,” Steve looked surprised to see him. “Um, come in.”
Wayne stepped past him into the room, there were several sets of shoes piled up hap-hazardously by the door, and in the living room he could see several younger teenagers going wild with paper streamers and masking tape. Steve’s whole expression changed when he looked at them, a smile tugging at his lips, and a warmth in his eyes that made Wayne think of how Eddie looked at stray kittens.
“I’ve got to get back to the kitchen,” Steve said. “Can I get you anything? Coffee? Tea? Soda? Beer?”
“You old enough to have beer?” Wayne asked.
Steve’s whole body tensed but he plastered a smile across his face. “If you don’t like any of those options, you’re welcome to whatever’s in the fridge.”
“Coffee,” Wayne said.
“Cream and sugar?”
“Black.”
Steve nodded, turning, and disappearing into the kitchen. The Wheeler boy was barking orders at the others about where exactly the streamers should go, though he was largely ignored, and the Mayfield girl managed to tangle him in a few blue loops, an impressive feat considering she was on crutches. The door opened behind him, and a girl, Robin, if Wayne remembered from bumping into her at the hospital, walked right in without knocking.
“Dingus!”
“Kitchen!” Steve called back.
Robin ditched a badly wrapped present in the corner with the other gifts before disappearing into the kitchen. Wayne meandered around the living room, largely ignored by the high schoolers. Through the doorway of the kitchen he watched as Robin looped her arms around Steve’s waist, stretching up onto her tiptoes to watch him frost a cake. Wayne’s stomach sank at the domestic scene, he turned away.
The Wheeler girl arrived hand in hand with the older Byers’ boy and the younger one trailing behind them. They set their presents with the others, saying hello to the kids, and starting to actually fix up the mess that was ‘decorating’. The Byers’ boy snapped a few pictures of the disaster first though.
“Mr. Munson?”
Wayne turned to find Steve offering him a steaming mug. There was blue chipped nail polish on his fingers… and Eddie’s favorite skull ring on his thumb. Wayne accepted the coffee, taking a sip, it was good, none of that instant shit, benefits to rich parents he supposed. Steve slipped back into the kitchen, having an argument with his potential girlfriend about whether or not the macaroni and cheese he had made had the right ‘cheese texture’. The argument was brought to an end by another knock at the door, which had Steve scurrying from the kitchen to answer it. He let Chief Jim Hopper and Joyce Byers inside, the former carrying a large foil dish covered with tinfoil. Steve quickly took it from his hands.
“I’ll pop this in the oven, thank you so much for helping, I would have made it, but I never made it before, and I didn’t want to fuck it up…” Steve babbled.
“Kid, breathe,” Hopper advised.
Steve quite literally took a deep breath before smiling at him. “Coffee? Soda? Beer?”
“Beer’s good,” Hopper said.
“I’ll take a coffee when you’ve got a second, thanks, hon.” Joyce patted his arm.
“Beer. Coffee. On it.” Steve backed towards the kitchen. “Thanks again!”
Whatever was in the tray went into the oven, before Steve went about fixing up a coffee, popping the cap off a beer, and bringing his guests their refreshments as they said hello to the kids. Wade leaned back against the corner, feeling more like a fly on the wall than a guest. It was odd to think the man who had brought Eddie home with three different warnings before he got a little stealthier with his ‘business’ was now at his birthday party, but Wayne knew he had the reinstated chief to thank for helping clear his kid’s name. Joyce reeled Steve in for a hug before letting him disappear into the kitchen again to fuss over his cake despite his girlfriend’s insistence that there was nothing wrong with it.
Hopper made his way over. “Munson.”
Wayne dipped his head. “Hopper.”
“Hi, Wayne,” Joyce smiled. “Steve said he invited you, he didn’t sound too certain you were coming, but I’m glad you did.”
“Mhm.”
“How’s work?” Joyce asked.
They made idle small talk which was mildly more pleasant than standing in the corner like a sentient house plant. Another knock brought Jeff, Gareth, and Grant, who all looked as wary of Steve as Wayne was, but let themselves be waved inside and handed sodas before talking with the other Hellfire kids.
“Quiet!” Mike demanded, picking up a walkie-talkie as it crackled to life.
“Five minutes, over and out.” A voice crackled over.
“Copy that,” Mike said, raising his voice to shout, "Five minutes!".
Steve looked like he was going to have a conniption about his cake. Robin grabbed his face in both of her hands, saying something too quiet for Wayne to hear, but Steve relaxed slightly, putting the cake in the fridge, and instead focusing his attention on furiously scrubbing down the kitchen.
“Are we supposed to jump out or something?” Wayne asked.
“We figured we would break tradition and just yell surprise,” Joyce said. “Seems like these kids have gotten plenty of scares for a life time.”
Wayne couldn’t agree with her more. The Henderson boy opened the door, practically dragging Eddie inside.
“—are we doing here? Steve already said he was busy—“
“Surprise!”
The kids threw little bits of confetti that would be awful to clean up later and blew noise makers. Eddie stared at them with wide eyes before a smile practically split his face in two, eyes running over the room and softening to some sort of love-sick expression. Wayne followed it to where Steve was standing in the door way, holding up his hand in some pathetic little wave.
“Aw, guys, all this for little old me?” Eddie twisted a strand of hair in front of his smile. “You shouldn’t have.”
“I said we should have just gotten completely wasted, but I was vetoed,” the young man with long hair said.
Jonathan smacked him. “Dude.”
“Uh, wasted on fun?” The man offered.
Eddie laughed, accepting hugs from his little sheep who were all talking a mile a minute about how they planned the surprise, and trying to steal credit from one another for coming up with the idea. Steve appeared before him, holding out an opened root beer in offering.
“Thank you,” Eddie said, leaning into his space. “And I’m not just talking about the drink, sweetheart, I’m pretty sure I know who I can give credit to here.”
The kids immediately started protesting about how they helped, and it was only a little Steve’s idea which only made Eddie and Steve grin at each other. Eddie’s eyes found Wayne a few seconds later, looking somewhat surprised. Wayne lifted his mug in greeting. Eddie detangled himself from the gremlins, squeezing Steve’s arm absentmindedly, and making his way over.
“So you’ve met Steve then,” Eddie said.
“Wanted to make sure you were free tonight for your party,” Wayne said.
Eddie couldn’t seem to help the smile on his face as he looked over his shoulder. “Can you believe it? Steve Harrington’s throwing me a birthday party.”
Wayne hummed, still half expecting to look up and see a vat of pig’s blood dangling overhead.
“You’ll like him,” Eddie said with absolute certainty.
Wayne didn’t argue, after all, the sense shaking could wait a couple days after he had turned twenty.
“Go, be with your friends,” Wayne said.
Eddie smiled, bouncing away. He flit between different people, but whoever he was talking to, he was the center of attention, all waving hands, and theatrical glory. It felt like a weight lifting off Wayne's chest to watch him hop up on the coffee table and challenge Dustin to a dual the next day at dawn, nothing like the way he looked up curled up in a hospital bed.
Steve crossed his arms over his chest. “Munson, get off my table.”
“Make me, big boy.” Eddie grinned.
The kids ‘oohed’, looking between them like they expected some sort of throw down.
“I made mac and cheese,” Steve said simply.
Eddie’s eyes widened. “For me?”
Steve rolled his eyes. “No, I’m gonna eat it all, birthday boy.”
Eddie hopped down, bouncing over to Steve’s side, and snagging his hands in his own. “You made me dinner.”
“Hopper made the ribs,” Steve said. “And the cheese didn’t melt right.”
“Stevie,” Eddie cooed, leaning far closer to his face than was appropriate. “You made me dinner.”
Steve looked away, but Wayne almost thought he might have been blushing.
“Dinner’s getting cold, so stop challenging people to duals, and get our kids to sit down,” Steve huffed.
It was prissy, but Eddie seemed entirely enamored regardless, rounding up his guests to squeeze around the table, though he tossed a leg up on the chair to his right before it could get occupied. Steve carried out ribs, mac and cheese, biscuits and gravy, and steamed broccoli. The others started loading up their dishes while Steve puttered between the table and kitchen refilling drinks, grabbing napkins, and silverware. Eddie rose, catching him by the shoulders, and pushing him down into the seat he had saved.
“Sit down, sweetheart, the kitchen is ten feet away, I’m pretty sure Dustin can get his own coke,” Eddie said.
“I-“
“You’re not going to eat with me on my birthday?” Eddie asked.
Steve opened and closed his mouth, before reaching over to start filling up his plate. Eddie looked very smug as he took a bite of mac and cheese. Which he sung high praise for until Steve clapped a hand over his mouth, his whole face red. Eddie bit him in return, earning a yelp as Steve snatched back his hand as though scalded.
“Bastard,” Steve accused, rubbing his hand.
“I’m sorry, princess, want me to kiss it better?” Eddie asked.
Steve scoffed.
On pain of death, Wayne would admit that Steve’s food was actually delicious. How Steve knew that Eddie liked southern food (a leftover from his childhood in Georgia), Wayne didn’t know, but he certainly cooked it well. The table was boisterous, the kids full of energy, which must have been infectious considering even Eddie’s bandmates were laughing and tossing biscuits across the table by the end of the meal. Steve started clearing dishes the second someone pushed their plate away from themself, even though he had only eaten half of his own food. Wayne had to admit, he was doing a good job of keeping up the whole host charade. Like he was showing off how he was raised with manners in this damn big house. Eddie trailed around him like a puppy as he started cleaning up, though he was thoroughly dismissed every time he tried to help clean (take that, Harrington, his boy had manners too).
“Stevie…” Eddie drew out his name, wrapping his arms around his waist while he washed dishes, almost a perfect mirror of what his girlfriend had been doing earlier.
Wayne’s eyes flicked to her, but she was distracted talking to Nancy and Jonathan.
“I’m too full,” Eddie whined. “If you cut me I would bleed mac and cheese.”
Steve huffed out a laugh as he scrubbed at a dish.
“You keep cooking for me like this, and I’ll have to put a ring on you, baby, make you my little house wife,” Eddie teased.
Steve flicked soapy water into his face. Eddie just laughed, wiping his face on the back of Steve’s shoulder, rather than release him to actually use his hands. It was painful to watch Eddie joke about marriage with a boy he could never date, much less marry. Painful to watch him mirror the way he interacted with his girlfriend. That sense shaking was going to have to come soon. Eddie murmured something too low for Wayne to hear, but whatever it was made Steve shove his face away with a soapy hand. Eddie took the rejection with a laugh, but it still made Wayne scowl. Eddie was wrong, it would be a cold day in hell when he liked Steve Harrington.
There was a lull between dinner and cake which was likely for the best because everyone looked like they had ate until they were bursting. Wayne accepted the beer Hopper handed him, the real adults settling at the end of the dining table while the kids meandered around Steve’s house.
“It’s nice to see them be kids, isn’t it?” Joyce said.
“God,” Wayne rubbed at his face. “Twenty, Eddie still feels like a boy.”
“Twenty’s nothing,” Hopper dismissed. “Grown is thirty.”
Wayne couldn’t help but agree, after all, he had still been a dumb kid at twenty.
“Does he know what he wants to do?” Joyce asked.
“He’s talking about working part time at a garage, but if he had his way he would spend all his time playing that guitar,” Wayne said.
“He any good?” Hopper asked.
Wayne sipped his drink. “He’s loud.”
Hopper laughed, a real belly laugh. Wayne might not have the same taste in music, but at the same time, he was dead certain Eddie was good. Maybe that was just what it meant to be a parent. Your kid was always going to be the best. The best guitar player. The best reader. The best DND player. Just how it was. Glancing back over his shoulder, he watched with a frown as Eddie rambled at Steve, one of his hands trapped in his own as he gestured wildly, shaking Steve’s own hand for extra emphasis.
“They’re an interesting pair, aren’t they?” Joyce said.
Wayne grunted.
“I find that sometimes the people that are good for each other don’t know it until something pushes them together,” Joyce said. “I think Eddie’s good for him, Steve’s always running all over the place trying to take care of everyone, and Eddie kind of brings him back to the moment, y’know?”
“Eddie’s not the influence I’m worried about,” Wayne said.
“Steve’s a good kid,” Hopper said as though it were an indisputable fact.
As though they weren’t talking about Richard Harrington’s son, who threw benders on the weekend, and had a teenager girl disappear from his house. The disbelief must have shown on his face, because Hopper’s expression became more serious, almost steel-like.
“That’s my girl over there.” Hopper nodded to the girl with the short cropped hair. “El, she’s had a rough go of it, especially with her short hair, and Steve shows up with his arms full of nail polish, makeup, and whatever else a nineteen year old boy thinks would make a fifteen year old feel better, and declares they’re having a girls day. You know a lot of teenage boys who would let a kid put dozens of butterfly clips in his hair and do magazines quizzes with them?”
“He really is a sweet kid,” Joyce said. “I know he’s got a bit of a reputation, but I figure with Eddie you would realize just how far off those can be.”
Wayne glanced back to find Robin attempting to tie a streamer bow around Steve's head, and he looked at her with that same warm look that could melt chocolate, and Wayne didn’t know how to explain that it didn’t matter that Steve Harrington was a good babysitter because he was still the kid that was going to break Eddie’s heart.
“Well, well, well, what is this? A pretty little present?” Eddie teased, plucking at the paper bindings.
Steve glared, though Wayne was relatively certain he could easily snap the paper by trying to lift his arms.
“Unwrap him!” Argyle called, who was apparently Jonathan’s friend who Joyce Byers may or may not have kidnapped from California.
Eddie’s grin was sharp, opening his mouth likely to say something highly inappropriate.
“PG-13,” Steve interrupted, like he was used to getting come-ons and innuendos from Eddie. “We’ve got kids here.”
Wayne narrowed his eyes, because if that was the case, then Steve knew how Eddie felt for him, but didn’t have the decency to turn him down, just strung him along.
“We’re fifteen!” Dustin protested.
“Relax, Stevie, I’ll wait until we put the kids to bed to unwrap you,” Eddie said salaciously, earning groans and complaints from the rest of the bystanders.
His bandmates seemed to have overcome their shock at seeing him interact with Steve, and were now heckling his flirting. It was just theatrical enough to pass as a joke. Barely. Gareth threw a biscuit at Eddie. Steve flexed his arms and snapped the bindings to the protests of the kids who watched their efforts fall to the floor.
“Do you want cake now?” Steve asked.
Eddie’s eyes lit up. “There’s cake?”
Steve ran his fingers through his hair. “Yeah, um, it didn’t come out perfect, but it’s edible.”
“Shut up, I licked the batter, it’s delicious,” Robin declared.
“I want cake,” Eddie said. “And singing, it should sound angelic, not a person off key or you all have to start over—“
“You will get one shitty rendition of Happy Birthday and eat your goddamn cake.” Steve waved a finger at him.
“Deal,” Eddie said.
The others reconvened around the table and Steve brought out an enormous caramel cake with twenty burning candles on it, which he set before Eddie. It was probably the worst version of Happy Birthday that Wayne had ever heard, but Eddie was smiling all throughout before blowing out the candles. Eddie cut the horribly uneven slices of cake and Steve handed them out, the kids first, then the adults, then the older teens. Eddie handed Steve an absolutely enormous slice.
“I can’t eat all of this,” Steve protested.
“Mm, I guess we can share,” Eddie said, hooking his foot under Steve’s chair and tugging him closer.
Steve didn’t seem to mind sharing, though he only took a few bites of his own, seeming to rather make sure everyone else was actually enjoying the food, despite Eddie compliments. Fishing. Still trying to feed that King Steve ego it looked like.
“You always do this, sweetheart,” Eddie said with a little exasperation.
“Hm?” Steve blinked at him.
“What’s the point of being a good cook if you can’t enjoy any of it?” Eddie asked.
“I eat!” Steve protested.
Eddie held up a forkful of cake like a challenge. With a huff little sound, Steve leaned forward to take the bite, raising his eyebrows as he chewed as though to say ‘happy?’. Eddie looked delighted. If the others at the table were fazed by this interaction, it didn’t show, not even Steve’s girlfriend seemed particularly bothered, too invested in her own slice of cake. This time, Joyce managed to convince Steve to let her help clean up while the others gathered around the living room, arguing over whose present Eddie should open first.
“Now, now, settle down, I think the first offering should be from…” Eddie surveyed them like a king on his throne. “Henderson!”
Dustin looked thrilled, bounding over to collect his gift and shove it in Eddie’s hands. Unwrapping it revealed a little mini figurine that looked suspiciously like Eddie holding a spear and a shield.
“Dude,” Eddie said emphatically. “I have never looked cooler.”
Dustin lit up. The others bought him dice, a box to keep them in, pins, cassette tapes, a little woven bracelet which was now firmly tied around his wrist, books, and a new amp (courtesy of Joyce and Hopper). Steve was last considering he was tidying up.
“It’s, um, kind of less of a present, and more of a replacement?” Steve said, holding a neatly wrapped present behind his back. “I don’t know, but if you hate it, just, y’know chuck it in the back of your closet, okay?”
“No deal,” Eddie said. “If I hate it I will wear it publicly and shame you about it. Loudly.”
“Great,” Steve said weakly.
Eddie made grabby hands, and Steve handed it over. He shredded the wrapping paper, pulling out a denim vest. Covering the back panel was what had formerly been a Metallica t-shirt, white crosses, an orange sky, and red hands maneuvering puppet strings depicted on the cotton. There were patches and pins for other metal bands on the front, as well as a Tears For Fears pin, a DND dice patch, and a black bat pin right over the chest of the vest.
Eddie looked at him with wide eyes. “You made me a battle vest?”
“I know it’s not the same,” Steve said. “I just, I don’t know, I didn’t want to replicate it, I just…”
Eddie tackled him to the floor, the vest getting lost between them in the pile up. Steve looked up at him with wide eyes as Eddie positively beamed down at him.
“You made me a battle vest!”
“Y-yeah, I did.”
“There’s bats on it.” Eddie laughed breathlessly.
“Bad taste?” Steve asked tentatively.
“It’s fucking perfect,” Eddie said.
Steve smiled up at him, apparently not too concerned with the whole tackling issue, though Wayne would be the first to admit he had never met someone quite as tactile as Eddie so he supposed it was pretty par for the course.
“I won’t even take the Tears for Fears pin off,” Eddie decided.
Steve laughed. “I told you I would win you over.”
“Yeah, sweetheart, you did,” Eddie said.
Steve pushed Eddie off of him, so they could both sit on the floor while Eddie ran his fingers over the patches, and thanked his friends for their gifts, talking about DND and music and the books he couldn’t wait to read.
“Alright,” Jonathan clapped his hands. “I’m on children duty, who needs rides?”
Between Hopper and Jonathan they managed to pack all of the children into their cars, and Wayne knew that was his cue to leave, though it didn’t look like any of the older teens were planning to leave soon, sprawled out on the couches and floor. Argyle was taking up most of the sofa, but he had left Nancy the last cushion on the end. Eddie, Steve, and Robin were sitting by the foot of the couch, Eddie’s legs in Steve’s lap, but Steve's arm was around his girl. The excitement of his birthday seemed to keep Eddie from noticing this fact. The band took up the remaining armchairs.
“You need a ride, kid?” Wayne asked.
Eddie’s eyes flicked to Steve. “Figured I’d stay here tonight?”
Wayne nodded. “Happy Birthday.”
Eddie smiled. “Thanks, old man.”
Wayne left, his own present for Eddie was sitting at home on his bed, it was a dragon shaped nightlight. If he didn’t want to use it, no harm done, if he did, no embarrassment of having to admit a little light helped with the nightmares.
Wayne never got around to his sense shaking considering Steve was now everywhere. He would come home to find them on the couch watching a movie, Steve offering him a polite goodbye if they crossed paths in the mornings as he left Eddie’s room dressed and ready for a shift at Family Videos, the two of them sitting in front of the trailer in the middle of the night both dressed in Eddie’s worn out band t-shirts and sweats as they passed a cigarette back and forth.
Wayne exited his room to find Steve Harrington bold as brass using his coffee maker, wearing a Metallica shirt, flannel pants, and his hair a fluffy mess. It was earlier than Wayne was usually awake, but he hadn’t worked the previous night. Steve looked like a deer in headlights, two mugs in hand. Wayne leaned against the kitchen wall.
“Good morning, Mr. Munson,” Steve said, grabbing a third mug from the cupboard.
He poured a mug of black coffee, and held it out in offering. Bold as brass, indeed. Wayne accepted it, taking a sip, and leveling Steve with an unimpressed look, taking a little enjoyment out of the way he squirmed under his gaze.
“How’s your girlfriend?” Wayne asked.
Steve blinked. “Who?”
“That Buckley girl,” Wayne said.
“Robin?” Steve repeated dumbly.
Wayne didn’t dignify that with an answer.
“Robin’s my best friend, we’re not dating,” Steve said.
Wayne hummed noncommittally.
“We’re not,” Steve’s voice was a little more firm.
There’s that spine, Wayne didn’t buy this mild-mannered act for one second, colorful sweaters and fluffy hair aside, this boy had his father’s mean streak in him. He could see it in the steel behind his eyes. In the way he held himself like a brawler.
“Does she know that?” Wayne asked.
“We’re not dating,” Steve’s voice had an edge, but he kept it low. “I understand why you could get that impression considering how close we are, sir, but we’re not dating, never have, never will, and it does become a little frustrating when people don’t take our word for it.”
“So you’re stringing her along then,” Wayne said, keeping himself from adding ‘just like my boy’.
“No,” Steve snapped.
“I’ve been seeing a lot of you,” Wayne said.
Steve added sugar to one of the mugs.
“I’m sure you have a bed somewhere in that nice big house of yours that you can sleep in, can’t you?” Wayne said pointedly.
“Message received, sir.” Steve poured one of the mugs out in the sink, carrying the other to the bedroom.
Through the doorway he could see Eddie still tangled in the blankets, dead asleep to the world as Steve set the mug on his nightstand. He slipped past him a second later, sweater over his shoulder, keys in hand. Grabbing his shoes from the doorway, he stepped out of the trailer before he even pulled them on. The BMW was long gone by the time Eddie stumbled out of the room, drinking cold coffee.
“You seen Stevie?” Eddie asked.
“Left awhile ago,” Wayne said.
Eddie looked crestfallen.
“You haven’t been to Indianapolis in awhile,” Wayne said.
Eddie rubbed sleep from his eyes to look at him with confusion. Wayne had no idea what Eddie got up to in the city, and didn’t want to, but if meeting up with some guy in a bar helped him get over Steve Harrington, he would take it.
“Guess not,” Eddie said.
“Thought you had friends up there,” Wayne said casually.
“Yeah, haven’t talk to them in a bit.” Eddie pushed his bangs out of his eyes. “Hey, did Steve look upset when he left? He had kind of a rough night last night, I thought he was feeling better, but he usually doesn’t run out without leaving a note…”
“Looked fine to me,” Wayne said.
Eddie chewed on his lip.
“You should give your friends a visit,” Wayne said. “Do you some good to get out this town for a bit.”
Eddie just hummed, downing the rest of his coffee, and washing his mug out in the sink.
Wayne felt rather satisfied with his intervention until Eddie decided to take his advice and there was Steve leaning against the side of Eddie’s van, backpack at his feet, as Eddie bounded out of the trailer, overnight bag on his shoulder. Wayne met his gaze, and there was something cold in Steve’s eyes. It made dread settle in Wayne’s stomach. Steve’s flat expression turned to a bright smile when Eddie snagged his hand, already talking a mile a minute as they tossed their stuff into the back before hopping in the front. Wayne glared at the taillights as they pulled out of the park.
The Steve sightings didn’t decrease in the slightest after Indianapolis, but they changed. Instead he would be outside, leaning against his BMW waiting for Eddie to join him, or gently pulling Max along on her skateboard even though she could barely walk without her crutches, or sitting in the back of Eddie’s van while they listened to music, but he didn’t come in. It was a rare night that Eddie slept at the trailer, and Wayne couldn’t help grinding his teeth as he knew he was in Steve’s bed, fooling himself that this one wasn’t going to end like all the others. Wayne knew it in the way that ever time their gazes crossed Steve had that same cold steel look, only made more disturbing by the way he could flash Eddie a big bright smile seconds later like it had never happened.
Wayne ambled into the kitchen, Eddie was leaning by the wall, playing with the phone cord.
“Just come over, sweetheart.”
“Wayne won’t mind.”
“Stevie…”
“No, it’s okay, I’m not mad. Hey, not mad, come pick me up after your shift.”
“See you soon, princess.”
Eddie sighed as he hung up his phone, raking his fingers through his hair.
“Problem?” Wayne asked.
Eddie chewed on the inside of his cheek. “You know how I said Stevie’s got a problem with authority?”
Wayne stilled.
“He, um, his dad’s not so nice, so sometimes he gets nervous around like dad-type people, even Hopper every now and then, and I think you make him nervous,” Eddie said.
Nervous would not be how Wayne described the way that boy met his eyes.
“It’s not personal,” Eddie said quickly. “Like, he knows you’re one of my favorite people, I think he just hasn’t been sleeping well lately, and it makes him jumpy.”
“I’m sure he can sleep without you for a night,” Wayne said.
“Maybe, but I wouldn’t sleep a wink,” Eddie said. “It’s just so much easier when he’s around.”
“Eddie,” Wayne said firmly. “I think you and me have to have a talk.”
Eddie’s eyes widened.
“You can’t keep chasing after this boy, the longer you do this, the more you’re gonna break your own heart, and I don’t like watching it happen,” Wayne said.
“It’s not like that,” Eddie said weakly.
Wayne gave him a flat look.
“He’s different,” Eddie said.
“I’ve seen this movie before,” Wayne said.
“It’s different this time,” Eddie said stronger.
Wayne sighed. “Eddie…”
“I love him,” Eddie blurted out.
Dread settled in Wayne’s stomach like a stone.
“I love him in a way that I thought was reserved for movies and books and I don’t even care if he doesn’t love me the way I love him because he still loves me."
Wayne opened his mouth, but Eddie bulldozed onwards.
“He made me a battle vest, and the worst mixtape I have ever heard, and when I have nightmares he holds me, and he tells me I’m safe, and punched Andy B. for calling me a slur right in the middle of the goddamn street, and he makes me feel safe,” Eddie said like he was daring Wayne to argue with him.
Wayne just felt the stone grow heavier.
“He drives the kids wherever they want to go, and tries to learn dungeons and dragons so he’ll understand what they’re talking about, and makes Robin those awful walnut cookies that she loves, and he let's me pick the music in the car even though he doesn't like metal, which is probably for the best because his taste in music is terrible.
“It’s so bad, top forties stuff, but then he’s singing it in the kitchen and suddenly it’s the best thing I’ve ever heard, and I like when he wears my t-shirts and when his hair’s a mess, and I like it when he takes half an hour to make it perfect too, and that he likes painting his nails and then he complains because they get chipped when he plays basketball with Lucas.
“I even like it when he complains, even when he’s being bitchy, and he can be mean when he needs to be because he cares so much it’s like he keeps us all right there in his heart and when one of us gets hurt he can feel it in his chest. And he’s a fighter, he’s the best goddamn fighter I’ve ever met.
“And I make him feel safe,” Eddie’s voice wobbled a little. “I know I do, because he has this one voice where he’s asking a question that he doesn’t know will get him a nice answer, but he asks me anyway, like if it’s okay that he likes nail polish, if I think the kids won’t think of him as a protector anymore because he likes soft sweaters and pretty colors, and I get to tell him that it’s okay, and he believes me, and he lets me hold him when he’s scared, and I love him.”
Eddie was breathless by the end of it, like he had been keeping all of those words trapped in his lungs, and only now was he able to take a deep breath for the first time in months. Eddie looked at him like he was begging him to understand, to tell him it was okay, that he wasn't going to get his heart broken because he had never been in love like this before and the feeling was going to last forever.
“I don’t wanna see you get hurt, kid,” Wayne said.
“I’m not running,” Eddie said.
Wayne watched him collect himself, stepping out the door with a big smile as Steve’s BMW pulled up outside the trailer, and Wayne just hated him. Hated the tiny pieces he was going to leave Eddie in, even if he couldn’t help it. Even if he was gentle about it, even if he wasn’t trying to string him along the way Wayne suspected he was. Eddie called, but he wasn’t home for a few days, and when he did come home, it was in a foul mood. Wayne braced for impact.
It was pouring rain and a little after eight in the evening when a pounding knock came on the trailer door. Eddie was closed in his room, listening to what must have been the ‘god awful mixtape’ Steve had made him because not a single song was metal. It was almost comical that Eddie was moping by listening to pop songs.
Wayne opened the door to find Steve standing on the other side in just a soaked t-shirt and jeans, his hair falling in his eyes, but when he pushed it back Wayne could see the bruise forming around his eye and there was still blood running from his nose, mixing with the rain, and dripping onto his shirt. In his hand was a baseball bat. It was far too familiar a sight to Jason’s cronies.
“Where’s Eddie?” Steve demanded.
“You’re not seeing him like this,” Wayne said.
“I need to see Eddie.”
“You’re hopped up on adrenaline and wielding a baseball bat, you’re not seeing him until you’ve got your head on right,” Wayne said.
“I need to see him.”
“I said no. Go home.” Wayne lifted his hand to wipe rain from his own face, and Steve flinched. Hard.
Wayne felt stuck in that second because shivering in the rain on his front step he looked a lot less like part of a mob and more like Eddie had at thirteen with all his belongings in a backpack on his shoulder, and eyes like a ghost. Steve’s eyes were the same, they weren’t cold like flint, they were cold like a big gaping void. Like every time Steve had given him that look, he was seeing someone else in his stead.
“Wayne?”
Eddie shuffled over to the doorway, his eyes going wide as he took in Steve’s appearance.
“Eddie,” Steve breathed.
“Jesus, what happened to you, sweetheart?”
Eddie pushed past Wayne to get to Steve, cupping his face with both hands even as rain soaked into his pajamas.
“I just needed to see you, I need to know you’re okay,” Steve said.
“I’m okay,” Eddie promised. “I’m a little more worried about you right now, baby. C’mon, let’s get you inside.”
Steve pulled away. “No, no, I just, I just wanted to make sure you were okay, my father he said… but I think he was just bluffing, just be careful, and radio if anything happens, I just…”
“Hey,” Eddie said it like a command. “Eyes, sweetheart.”
Steve lifted his gaze to meet his eyes, still keeping a few feet of space between them.
“You’re going to come inside and let me patch you up, okay?” Eddie said.
Steve’s eyes flicked to Wayne, and in that look Wayne couldn’t help the shame that filled him because even if he didn’t like the boy he never wanted him to look at him like that ever again.
“Wayne, can you go get some towels?” Eddie asked without looking away from his boy.
Wayne stepped away, leaving Eddie to coax him in out of the rain. The bat was left in the doorway as Eddie wrapped him up in towels and steered him into his room. First aid kit in hand, Wayne knocked on the door. Eddie let him in, taking the kit from him, leaving the door open between them. Dressed in dry pajamas, Steve sat on his bed, one of Eddie’s blankets slipping from his shoulders.
“Can you tell me what hurts, sweetheart?” Eddie asked gently.
“S’fine,” Steve said.
“How’s your head, baby? You look like you got a pretty good knock there.”
“Not concussed.”
Eddie hummed, checking over the bruises before cracking an ice pack and holding it to his face.
“Can you tell me what happened?”
Steve didn’t meet his eyes.
“You said something about your father,” Eddie said slowly.
“They found some stuff,” Steve said quietly. “Got angry, I guess, I dunno, it wasn’t bad, I just, they said you were corrupting me, y’know? And they said it’d be better off it the mob had gotten you after all, said he knew some guys who still had a grudge, and I just I got scared, I didn’t know if he called someone, or if he was fucking with me… I just needed to make sure you were okay.”
It was only then that Eddie’s words really hit Wayne because, yeah, maybe this boy didn’t love him the way Eddie wanted him to, but damn, he loved him. After getting the shit beat out of him by his own dad his first thought was to get to Eddie, like he could stand between Eddie and whatever grown men might be coming with only a black eye and a baseball bat.
“I’m gonna kill him,” Eddie said.
“It’s okay,” Steve said. “They’ll be gone tomorrow, they just wanted to check on the house after the earthquake.”
“Check on the house, not check on their own goddamn son,” Eddie said bitterly.
Steve’s fingers played with the hem of Eddie’s t-shirt, still not meeting his eyes.
“You told me this was over,” Eddie said.
Steve made an inconclusive noise.
“Eyes,” Eddie commanded.
Steve lifted his gaze to meet his.
“You told me this was over, sweetheart.”
“It was.” Steve twisted the fabric of Eddie’s shirt. “I hadn’t seen them in a year and a half, I didn’t think they were coming back.”
“Why didn’t you come with me? When they came home, I asked you to come with me, baby.”
Steve’s eyes found Wayne in the doorway, shoulders tensing, and casting his eyes off to the side. Eddie turned to look back at Wayne, who was sure he looked guilty as sin standing there in the doorway.
“I told him not to come around,” Wayne said.
“You what?” Eddie asked, his voice low, and filled with the kind of anger he had only ever heard directed towards others.
Steve tugged on his shirt. “Eddie, s’fine.”
“No, it’s fucking not,” Eddie spat, but the venom leaked out of his voice as he cupped Steve’s face with his hands. “Wherever I am, I want you with me, always, don’t ever doubt that.”
Steve’s eyes flicked back and forth across his face.
“You’re going to stay here tonight, okay? You’re not going back there until we know for certain they’re gone,” Eddie said.
“Okay,” Steve’s voice was small.
“I’m gonna get you some water and some pain meds, stay right here, okay, sweetheart?”
Steve nodded.
Eddie climbed off the bed, stalking past Wayne to grab a cup from the cabinet and slam it against the counter before shoving it under the faucet.
“How could you fucking do that?” Eddie hissed. “Tell him he’s not welcome, and then not have the goddamn decency to do it in front of my face? Behind my back and then just fucking stand there and listen to me talk about how he’s nervous around men and that’s probably why he won’t come over, like you didn’t fucking tell him to fuck off?”
“I’m sorry,” Wayne said.
Eddie gripped the edge of the counter, taking a deep breath. Wayne might not have planned to be a parent, but he was pretty sure he had done an okay job, okay enough that apologies like this were rare. Rare enough that Eddie knew he meant it.
"I thought he was stringing you along, and you were buying it hook line and sinker,” Wayne said. “Hell, I’m still not convinced he isn’t, but that shoulda been a conversation between you and me, not behind your back.”
“He is welcome here,” Eddie said with such force. “I want him here.”
“He’s welcome,” Wayne said.
Eddie snatched up the cup and a bottle of Advil before disappearing into his room.
Wayne could hear him talking softly, sweetly, on the other side of the door, but whatever he was saying was reserved for the battered boy he loved.
Steve stayed for a few days, though it was like having a ghost in the house. Wayne caught glimpses of him here and there, but he seemed to prefer the safety of Eddie’s room when he wasn’t at work or with his kids. It was only when Wayne was coming back from a shift at the plant, that he really saw the boy. He was sitting alone on the hood of his car, still in Eddie’s pajamas, and smoking a cigarette in the grey just before dawn. Wayne leaned against his bumper, not close, but within conversational distance.
“I think you’re going to break my kid’s heart,” Wayne said. “So I don’t like you very much, but I don’t want you to look at me like I'm your old man, so we’ve got to find some middle ground here.”
“How am I going to break his heart?” Steve asked.
The bruises were still a vivid purple, but the swelling had gone down, confusion written all across his face.
“The usual way you get your heart broken,” Wayne said.
Steve blinked. “You… you think he likes me?”
Wayne almost snorted because wasn’t that the understatement of the century.
“I know you ain’t like that, but my boy is, and somehow he’s got his heart dead set on you.”
“I am, like that,” Steve said quietly, looking down at his hands. “That’s what my father got, um, upset about.”
Wayne felt wrong footed, unsure of what to do with this new piece of information.
Steve lifted his eyes to his face. “But you do, you think… you think he likes me like that?”
“You don’t?” Wayne asked incredulously.
The smile Steve gave him was heart-wrenchingly sad. “I’m hard to love.”
“You’re not so bad,” Wayne said after a minute.
Steve laughed. “Thanks, Mr. Munson.”
“Wayne.”
Steve put out the butt of his cigarette, rising from the hood of his car, and looking back towards the trailer.
“I think you’re wrong,” Steve said.
Wayne raised an eyebrow.
“But maybe it’s worth it, to get your heart broken, sometimes.”
Steve walked back to the trailer, disappearing inside, but Wayne watched the grey sky warm with orange and pinks. The trailer was quiet when he headed inside, but by the time he woke up he could hear laughter from the living room. Eddie was stretched out on his back, Steve laying against his chest but he had his head tipped back so they could look at one another.
“I’m not getting an ABBA pin for my battle vest,” Eddie said.
“ABBA’s totally metal,” Steve deadpanned.
“You’re lucky you’re pretty, princess, or I would kick you out for that.”
“Ouch, what happened to wanting me wherever you are?”
“You can’t use my own words against me, I-I was emotional, that’s cheating!”
Steve laughed, bright and loud, tipping his head back onto Eddie’s shoulder. Eddie’s eyes danced with mirth, crinkled at the corners, and smiling wide enough for his dimples to appear, and Wayne thought, maybe, just maybe, no one was getting their heartbroken here. Steve tangled his fingers with Eddie’s, another one of his rings on his hand, his middle finger this time, maybe, maybe if they were really lucky, then one day it would shift over a finger, and Wayne could finally believe that his kid could have a real happy ending. It definitely looked like the start of one.