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Eddie Munson didn’t pretend not to have favorites. He never really acted on his favoritism, per se. He did try to at least hide his favoritism from the non-favorites. But he didn’t pretend it didn’t exist.
And of his lost little sheep, Dustin Henderson was his favorite. The kid was adorable, for one. And he was funny. And he just blended in with his little group of freaks so well.
If anyone else had asked to stay after Hellfire ended because they needed to arrange another ride, Eddie would’ve told them to beat it while he cleaned up.
But Dustin Henderson?
Eddie sighed. “Don’t distract me while I clean, you hear me?”
Dustin had nodded gratefully and sat in the corner while he waited for… whoever was going to pick him up. All Eddie knew was that his mom had picked up an extra shift last minute, and his secondary ride was 20 minutes away.
But, Dustin had said his ride “wasn’t above breaking a few traffic laws” if it meant picking him up faster. Eddie was looking forward to meeting someone who clearly appreciated this particularly nerdy weirdo as much as he did.
So, when there was a knock on the classroom door, Eddie swung it open eagerly.
“This Hellfire?” asked a voice Eddie (unfortunately) recognized. The fluffy, perfect hair. The uncaring, slumpy posture. The sunglasses on inside.
Steve “The Hair” Harrington.
Eddie’s gaze narrowed. “Yeah.”
Dustin pushed past him and gave Steve a hug. Steve hugged Dustin back, smiling and laughing softly. Which… that was not right. Steve Harrington did not hug people, let alone freaks like Dustin. Steve Harrington did not laugh and smile and enjoy the presence of someone like Dustin.
“Hey, Henderson,” he said, releasing Dustin from the hug. “That excited to see me, doofus?”
Steve ruffled Dustin’s hair, and Dustin batted his hand away playfully. Which wasn’t right either. Steve Harrington didn’t use playful insults like “doofus”. Steve Harrington didn’t tousle hair lovingly.
“Yeah, yeah, shut up.” Dustin grinned.
Steve’s smile fell, and his hand on Dustin’s head froze.
Eddie tensed, his hand moving to yank the kid back. Whatever he was about to do, that was what Steve Harrington acted like.
“What is this?” Steve asked, kneeling down and peering at a bruise on Dustin’s chin. He tilted Dustin’s head around, freezing again.
“Is that dried blood in your nose?” he muttered, accusatorially. Eddie had gotten beat up enough to know Steve’s suspicions - or accusations, more accurately - were correct. He hadn’t noticed the bruise or the blood in the entire 90 minutes of Hellfire. Steve had noticed in less than 90 seconds.
And that was wrong too. Steve Harrington didn’t notice. He didn’t care. He wasn’t anything like the man crouched in front of him. Eddie had half a mind to believe that this was some long-lost identical twin or clone or supernatural entity.
Dustin shifted awkwardly. “I, uh… my locker hit my chin.”
Steve took his glasses off, examining the bruise. “Nope. Wrong shape. You picked the wrong person to lie to, Henderson.”
Eddie’s heart dropped. Here it was, here was the Harrington behavior.
“Don’t think I’ve been beat up enough times by now to know what a bruise from being punched looks like?”
And that was wrong too, because Steve Harrington didn’t lose fights. Sure, Byers had beat him up a few years back, but Eddie wouldn’t exactly call that a fight.
Dustin looked at the ground.
“And you still haven’t answered my other question. Did someone hit your nose too?”
“No one hit me,” Dustin tried to protest, but Steve sighed.
“What exactly is the end goal here? Why are you lying? Friends don’t lie.”
Dustin groaned and dramatically rolled his eyes. “I’m trying to keep you from fussing over me! I swear, you’re worse than my mom.”
And that was wrong too. Steve Harrington didn’t fuss over people. Especially little freaks who probably got hit by the same kind of people Steve used to be friends with - the same kind of people that Steve used to be.
Eddie was beyond confused.
Steve stood and placed his hands on his hips. And, Jesus H. Christ, Henderson was onto something with the mom comment.
“And you do realize I’m just going to fuss over you more if you keep lying? Go properly clean your nose.”
Dustin didn’t move, just crossed his arms like a petulant child. Probably because he was a petulant child.
“Go. Before I decide to fuss over you more and do it myself.”
Dustin flipped Steve off with a poorly hidden smile on his face, and turned to go to the bathroom.
Steve pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers, and sighed. His smile wasn’t hidden at all.
He turned to Eddie, his un-hidden smile now tired looking. “Kids, right?”
Eddie crossed his arms and leaned against the doorframe. “Who are you and what have you done with Steve Harrington?” he asked, only half joking.
Steve blinked a few times. “Come again?”
“No,” Eddie thought, resisting the prime joke opportunity.
“Who are you, and what have you done with Steve Harrington?” he asked, a little louder.
Steve sighed. “Hell if I know, man. Eddie, right? Dustin talks about you all the time.”
Eddie nodded. “You don’t remember me?” he added, after a moment. Because this was the same Steve Harrington who had watched as his friends ripped lunch money out of Eddie’s hands, right?
Steve shrugged. “Between five concussions and actively trying to block all of high school from memory? Can’t say I do.”
And Eddie was taken aback. Five concussions? Steve wasn’t lying about being someone who got beaten up often, was he?
Eddie mentally shooed away the concern for Steve; he didn’t exactly deserve it.
“Yeah, you-… your friends kinda used to bully me. A lot.” And Eddie didn’t know why he changed it from ‘you used to bully me’ to ‘your friends used to bully me’.
Maybe because he remembered Steve never being the one to rip away the lunch money. Or remembered Steve’s grimace when he walked past him getting beat up that one time.
Steve had a similar grimace now. “Yeah, that- see, that was- about that, I’m-…” Steve sighed and dragged a hand down his face.
“Sorry, dude. My friends were assholes. I was an asshole. I know that shitty fucking apology doesn’t actually make up for anything, but….” Steve trailed off and threw up his hands.
“I’m not the best with words ever since the kids made me stop using sports analogies. I told them I’d stop using sports analogies when they stopped using DnD analogies, but they insisted that since I was the only one who didn’t understand them, they should get to keep using them. So… yeah. Whatever. Sorry.”
And that was especially wrong. Steve Harrington didn’t apologize, and if Steve Harrington did apologize he certainly didn’t mean it.
Dustin jogged back over and tilted his head back dramatically. “Happy?”
And it was also especially wrong that Steve, who had looked so tired just a moment ago, plastered on a fake smile when Dustin returned.
And what was even more especially wrong than that was how it crushed Eddie’s heart.
Steve tilted Dustin’s head back and forth, gently, and nodded.
“Can we go home now? I’m hungry,” Dustin whined.
Steve tousled Dustin’s hair again. “Yeah. We can head home.”
They both turned to leave, and Eddie’s mouth moved faster than his brain.
“Henderson, you go on ahead. I wanna talk to Stevie here for another second.”
Dustin raised an eyebrow, glanced between Steve and Eddie, then shrugged and jogged off down the wall. Steve watched him go, and once he was around the corner, Steve turned back to Eddie and sighed.
“If you’re gonna hit me, just make it quick. And somewhere the kids won’t see the bruise.”
Eddie’s heart was crushed just a little more. “Why would I wanna hit you?”
Steve shrugged. “People I used to bully tend to wanna punch me. And who am I to deny them their… cathar-something.”
Eddie shook his head. “Catharsis. And I don’t wanna hit you, I just-…” he thought about his words for a moment before deciding to just wing it. He was a DM, he could improvise.
He placed a hand on Steve’s shoulder. “Look, man, you were an asshole.”
Steve winced. Maybe not the best start ever. But Eddie continued.
“But you’re… you’re not anymore. For whatever reason. So, it’s whatever. I don’t exactly… forgive you. But, like… you get it.”
Steve laughed. Just a little. And it wasn’t at Eddie; somehow he knew that. It was nice to see a real smile on Steve’s face. Eddie decided to ignore why that was for now.
“And you don’t need to fake a smile for Henderson.”
Steve didn’t laugh at that, but he was still smiling. He placed a hand on top of where Eddie’s still rested on his shoulder.
“Thanks, man.”
Eddie nodded. “Alright, hit the road, Stevie Boy. Henderson’s probably already starved to death.”
Steve laughed again. “Not on my watch.”
He turned and he left.
Eddie watched him go.