satanicpanics | Open Post/Overflow

Yeah, it does, actually. It means there’s a whole lot less wrong with me than you seem to think.

[ He manages another Cheshire grin, but it’s a little fainter and it’s clear that he’s not feeling his best as he inhales sharply, clenching his teeth and wincing through the string of the water on his hand. He avoids looking at the damage, but instead shifts his gaze to Steve, trying to work out if the look on his face means he’s angry, worried, or just kind of anxious. It is quite a bit of blood, and Eddie does feel a nagging curl of guilt in his stomach for insisting on dragging him into it.

But he doesn’t say anything. He’s already here, and Steve has already accepted the job, so Eddie waits. Waits for the water to stop, and as he promised, it’s not as bad as it looks. When the blood is cleaned away, what’s left is a deep gash across his palm—not deep enough to see through to bone, but deep enough that it’s pretty clear why he’s had such a hard time stopping the bleeding. ]

How does it look? Is it a hospital job or are we fine with keeping it a Harrington job?

I don't think that...

[Which is kind of a weirdly genuine thing to say at a time like this. Especially since there is clearly something very wrong with Eddie since he avoided the hospital and chose to come here instead. If Steve is being honest though, he can't entirely blame him. He also tends to avoid hospitals these days. After spending enough time in a government run one, they aren't really his favorite place.

He sighs, assessing the damage as the water rinses most of the blood away. Now that he's actually seeing it, it's not too bad. Probably could use some stitches, but that's not really his call.]

You're still a dumbass for coming here, but I can wrap it for you. I don't really think we should attach my name to it or anything. It's not going to look pretty.

I came here, sure, but you’re the one who let me come here. So, uh…I could be wrong, but I kind of think that makes us both dumbasses.

[ He tilts his head and smiles in a way that could almost be described as mischievous if he weren’t so obviously running low on blood and energy. It doesn't last long. With a deep sigh, he finally gives into his exhaustion and leans back, watching Steve through half-lidded eyes. ]

Seriously, though—thanks, man. I appreciate it. I don’t think my uncle’s paycheck could handle a hospital visit, so...I’m not gonna critique your work. It doesn’t have to look pretty as long as it does the job.

Yeah, well...that's probably true.

[Steve tilts his head slightly, agreeing, unfortunately, that they are both probably acting stupid right now. He imagines that if literally anyone else from the Party was here, they would be telling both of them to stop being idiots and go to a hospital.

Lucky for Eddie though, it's just Steve. So he gets to deal with dumb decisions.]

Don't mention it. [After a few more minutes of rinsing Eddie's hand, Steve seems satisfied with it's cleanliness and grabs a hand towel. There is no way the blood won't stain, but he doesn't seem bothered as he wraps it around Eddie's hand. He uses one hand to shut the water off and then presses both against Eddie's wound, as gently as he can while still applying pressure.

He finally gets a good look at Eddie's face, no longer preoccupied with the cleaning. He can't help but notice how pale the man in front of him is.] Uh, you doing okay, man?

[ Maybe that’s partly why he came here. Any of his bandmates would have pushed him to go to the hospital, and there was never any reason to burden any of the kids with this. That left Wayne (not really an option) and Steve. The blood loss might have played a role, but he choice seemed concrete from the beginning.

Sure, he’s feeling a little guilty about it now, but he’s already here and has already admitted he’s a dumbass. ]

Jesus fuck—

[ He hisses between clenched teeth as Steve applies pressure to the wound, and as much as he wants to, he doesn’t try to pull away. It’s a necessary pain. ]

Yeah…probably dehydrated or something? But I’m cool, dude. Just slap a bandage on it and I’ll get out of your hair.

[It's not that Steve wants to hurt Eddie, and he's been on the receiving side of this kind of pain far too many times than he'd care to admit. So that might be why, while he still holds pressure to the wound with one hand, his other slides down to grip Eddie's wrist, squeezing for a moment, almost apologetically.

It is necessary, but that doesn't mean it doesn't suck.]

Even though we already decided you're an idiot, you're even more of an idiot if you think I'm just going to let you leave looking like that. You can chill on my couch or something.

[Steve shrugs like he didn't just invite Eddie to stay and hang out. Not that it's weird, they are friends, but it's not really something they've done yet. Hang out solo.]

Henderson will kill me if you leave and crash your car because you passed out from blood loss.

[ Steve doesn't have to ask where Eddie's at; he knows he's at the station. It's where they've all been when they haven't been at home, or at the hospital, or doing various recon missions on the military occupation around town. He doesn't think it qualifies as a hangout, exactly, considering the things they actually do there, but it is a central point that they all gravitate towards eventually during the long days. And it's one of the few safe places for Eddie to be without drawing attention to himself.

The glass doors are still swinging shut behind him and he's just spotted Eddie in the middle of the chaos of mismatched furniture in their "war room" before he's speaking. ] What the hell is a side quest, anyway?

[ He doesn't mean for it to come out as annoyed as it sounds. He gets that Eddie left something behind that night in the Upside Down. The same way he'd left a piece of himself in the Byers' living room that night in 1983. He gets it. It's just... ] You know Henderson is going to lose it, right? Like, if you think it's bad now... [He grimaces. He really doesn't want that shitty attitude or tone directed at him. It's painful enough watching him ice out Eddie.

He sighs.] It better be worth it.

Edited 2025-11-29 04:53 (UTC)

[ When Eddie had come to in that hospital, barely held together with stitches and some frankly fantastic narcotics, it had been with a high ranking government official standing over him. Their interaction was curt and brief, lasting no longer than five minutes in total. He’d been strong-armed into signing a non-disclosure, and then handed an innocent verdict on a silver platter. Just like that. The police didn’t even speak to him. He should have known it was too easy.

It turns out that an innocent verdict doesn’t really mean much if an actual perpetrator hasn’t been brought to justice and half the town is already convinced you’re a murderer. Eddie has never been beloved by Hawkins, but now, the harassment is near daily—graffiti on his door, broken windows, dead animals left on his doorstep, threats hurled in the most mundane of places when all he’s doing is existing.

He’ll never fully bend to these people, but he's been forced to acknowledge that there aren’t many places where he feels safe anymore. He’ll often spent the night at the station, snatching brief and scattered moments of sleep on the battered couch just to avoid going home, to avoid seeing the way the light leaves his uncle’s eyes when collects the bottle of acetone to scrub yet another angry “burn in hell” from the door despite the constant assurance that “it’ll stop eventually, Ed.”

He’s just stirring from on of those stolen moments of sleep when Steve enters, almost immediately hitting him with questions. Eddie sighs and rakes a hand through his hair, peering up at him with those eternally wide, dark eyes as he mumbles in a voice still thick with sleep: ]

You ever stopped to see the world’s biggest ball of twine on a road trip? It's like that. A detour.

[ He’s aware that the Upside Down is very much not as innocuous as the world’s biggest ball of twine, and calling his desire to return to the place he almost called his grave is a little more than a detour. He's aware that his request to return sounds insane, especially when he’s still plagued by nightmares of the first visit. He can’t even explain what he’s looking for, nor can he voice what he’s feeling or why he thinks he needs to make the journey. He just knows that he does, and that he won’t stop feeling the pull until he goes back.

He sighs again, scrubbing his face in an attempt to wake up just a bit more. ]

Yeah, well, he seems pretty intent on not even acknowledging me these days, so…we’ll see if he even gives a shit.

[ He knows that Dustin is angry, and understandably so. Eddie had forced him not staying behind, tried to be a hero at both their expenses, then nearly passed away in his arms. A kid shouldn’t have to deal with all of that, and the guilt Eddie feels has been sitting like a stone in the pit of his stomach for the better part of a year. Paying a second visit to the Upside Down isn’t the way to deal with it, but he’ll just have to hope that eventually, he can make Dustin understand. ]

Can’t promise it will be, to be totally honest, but, uh…thanks for doing this with me, Steve.

[ Steve feels a little guilty at coming in hot when he realizes Eddie was attempting sleep on the couch. He knows he doesn't exactly get a lot of that these days, but Eddie doesn't seem that put out and Steve's guilt gives way to confusion as he furrows his brow. ] Twine?

[ He crosses his arms over his chest.] Yeah, but Eddie, this isn't a roadtrip. This is the Upside Down. Taking a side trip to see the biggest pile of batshit or whatever isn't just reckless, it's dangerous.

[ His expression softens and he sighs heavily, running a hand through his hair.] He gives a shit. That's the problem. You didn't see him falling apart. [ Steve shrugs.] And I don't think he wants you to.

[ He knows in his gut that this is a bad idea. He should've stuck with absolutely not. But he also knows Eddie would find a way to do it on his own. Stubborn bastard. He exhales loudly. He has a promise to keep.] Yeah, yeah. So how exactly are we going to get in there? We can't exactly hop a ride with Hopper on the next crawl.

[ Eddie snorts, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth at the mention of “the biggest pile of batshit”. He struggles to keep it together on most days, but the fact that his sense of humor is intact is damn near miraculous. It’s clear that he would like to make a quip—something like “oh yeah, can we drop by and see that too?”, but he keeps quiet. He knows that Steve is right. This isn’t a roadtrip, it’s not for fun or leisure. It’s dangerous, and he got very lucky to escape with nothing but scars last time. There’s always a real chance that he won’t come back to the surface in the end.

And he knows that will destroy Dustin. All he can do is hope that it doesn’t come to that. ]

Then we don’t tell him.

[ Narrowly escaping the cold hands of death comes along with a lot of interesting side effects: nightmares, residual pain, and the worry that you never actually came back at all (which is a huge problem, actually), but his newfound recklessness just may be the strangest side effect of all. The Eddie Munson from a year ago would balk at the things his current self is suggesting, and he can’t even voice why he has so little regard for himself or his own safety these days. Maybe he really has been spending too much time with Nancy. ]

In fact, we don’t actually tell anyone.

[ He forces himself to his feet, eyes wide and serious. It’s a stupid idea, maybe the stupidest he’s ever had. It puts everyone, especially Steve, in jeopardy, but it’s the best he’s managed to cobble together. If Steve tries to tell him no again, tries to revoke the permission given to do this at all, maybe he’ll even back down. ]

Not til we’re there. Hopper’s not going to let us hitch a ride, right? I mean—you, maybe? But, uh, no one’s letting me do shit, so…

[ He knows there are too many moving parts to the crawls to really sacrifice anyone or anything, but Eddie himself is totally expendable. He hasn’t been granted a role in any of this, no matter how many time he’s offered his services. Dustin is always quick to shoot it down or bite his head off whenever he tries to volunteer, and Eddie gets it. Dustin is angry, too angry to even speak to Eddie on most days, but it’s obviously a level of protection. The kid cares. It’s the same type of behavior he sees from Mrs. Byers when her youngest son tries to step in. ]

But we could piggyback off of him. He goes through that gate, we follow right behind him.

[ This isn't just a bad idea, it's a terrible idea. If Dustin finds out that Eddie did this behind his back and Steve helped, they'll both be in deep shit. Dustin has joked about being able to make all of Steve's hair fall out, but he wouldn't put it past him either. It's a violation of a trust that Steve holds dear, even if he also logically knows that he can't let his actions be dictated by a sixteen year old.

He raises his eyebrows when Eddie says they don't tell anyone. That idea comes with a lot more risks. If Dustin doesn't murder them, Robin will. Then Nancy, then Hopper, then Mrs. Byers, and so on and so on until there's not even ashes left. He shifts on his feet uncertainly. Eddie's eyes are wide and inviting. He's giving him that look that implies that he's not cool unless he's in on this and despite the fact that Steve knows he hasn't been cool in a long time, he feels compelled by it.

He shuts his eyes dramatically and sighs.] You know that if we survive, they're all going to murder us, right?

Edited 2025-11-30 00:16 (UTC)

Yeah. Yeah, I know, and believe me, I’m really not looking forward to that bit. But, uh, I can tell them it was my idea and that I forced you into it.

[ Truth be told, the outcome of that might be even worse. Putting Steve in danger and placing himself as the lone perpetrator means straining his relationship with some of the only people who are truly on his side. Dustin is bound to grow even more frigid toward him, Robin will absolutely never forgive him, Nancy will follow suit, Hopper will call him an idiot and no one will ever even consider letting him offer his help again.

But he has to do this. He has to, and this is the only plan he has to make it happen. No one is willingly going to let either one of them go down there. He sighs, shoves his hands into his pockets and drifts closer, head tilted and gaze wide and searching, still silently offering Steve one last opportunity to say no. ]

Wouldn’t be a lie, Steve.

[ Steve tilts his head to the side and studies Eddie for a moment before shaking his head. ] No, come on. I'm not going to throw you under the bus like that. I can make my own decisions, and I'm not about to let you do this on your own. If it's something you have to do, then I trust that it's something you have to do.

[ He pauses. ] Unless you have a secret suicide wish I don't know about? [ If he did, he probably wouldn't have fought as hard as he did to get out of the hospital. Steve sighs and bumps Eddie's shoulder with his. ] We'll deal with the fallout when it comes. We just might want to hide Nancy's shotgun first.

Nah, man, this isn’t about dying. If it was, don't you think I would have tried way harder the first time?

[ He snorts, knowing full well that he’s joking about something that shouldn’t be joked about. This is exactly the type of shit that fuels Dustin’s anger—treating his own trauma and pain in such a flippant, insincere way, but his jokes are a coping mechanism. Sometimes he thinks it’s the only way he stays sane and grounded at all. If he jokes about it, maybe eventually, it will grow a little less terrifying.

He just wishes he knew how to explain what he hopes to get out of going back down there. Ever since he woke up in that hospital, he hasn’t felt right, and it goes deeper than his scars. Sometimes, he doesn’t feel real, and he’ll whip himself into a frenzy worrying that he never made it out alive and these past eighteen months have been a figment of his imagination packed into his final moments. Maybe he needs confirmation, needs to know that he’s not just a corpse rotting down there in the dark, needs to know that he’s still here. ]

Hey--

[ He smiles faintly as Steve bumps his shoulder, then returns the gesture. He would have taken this trip alone in a heartbeat just to avoid placing the burden on anyone else, but the knowledge that he won’t be alone is a genuine comfort. ]

Scale of one to ten, how far out of my mind do you think I am?

[Steve raises an acknowledging eyebrow. Eddie has a point. Plus, it's not like he's been acting reckless lately. He's actually been keeping his head down for the most part. Something he wishes Dustin would follow, instead of being willing to fight anyone that so much as gives Eddie a dirty look. ]

[ He snorts, taking in the look on Eddie's face before shaking his head one last time. ] Fifteen, easy.

[ He finally uncrosses his arms and lets his shoulders drop. ] The next crawl is Tuesday night. Are you going to be ready by then?

Oh, is that all?

[ He raises his eyebrows and whips his head toward Steve, eyes growing comedically wide. ]

And here I was aiming for twenty.

[ His dramatic expression relaxes as he chuckles softly, and when the jokes fall away, he just looks exhausted, like he’s slowing sinking beneath the weight of his decision. He’s not going to back out, but he’ll definitely need to use these next few days to hype himself up. ]

Yeah. I’ll be ready. Just don’t back out on me, Harrington.

[ Steve laughs and shakes his head. The theatrics used to make it hard to take Eddie seriously, but then he realized the guy was never serious. ] Well, don't let me stop you. You can probably get to 20 if you try.

[ Steve traces the line of his teeth with his tongue and sighs, shaking his head. ] I won't.

[ By Tuesday he's even more certain that this is a stupid fucking idea, but he can't bring himself to tell Eddie. He'd already promised and the train was in the process of leaving the station, so all that was left was to commit and hope for the best.

The hardest part was coming up with an excuse as to why he couldn't take part in the Crawl. He couldn't think of anything that sounded good and so in the end he'd called Nancy and told her, face burning, that he'd gotten some food poisoning and was living out of his bathroom. She hadn't sounded impressed, but she had moved things around so that Dustin would ride with Jonathan in the WSQK van instead and told him she hoped he felt better soon.

That alone was enough to sour his mood by the time he met up with Eddie at the edge of the MAC-Z in the old Family Video store. He still had a key, mostly because Keith had fled Hawkins one night without a word, leaving both him and Robin unemployed. He dropped the duffel bag he was carrying and wiped his hand along the dusty countertop. It looked like the store had been looted at some point, probably by bored residents with nothing to do but sit at home all night when curfew hit at 8:30pm. He found himself picking up a tape from the return slot box and sticking it in the rewinder out of sheer habit.]

[ At least in one regard, this entire situation has gone smoothy: Eddie doesn’t need an excuse to skip the crawl. Early in the day, he’d played along, offered his services as usual to keep up appearances despite knowing he’ll alway be denied. And as usual, Dustin had snapped at him and told him to just go home, so that’s exactly what he did. He went home, dozed on the couch for an hour or two, forced himself to eat something, then proceeded to pace anxiously until it was time to meet Steve. Quite the productive afternoon if you ask him.

It’s a stupid plan, he knows that. He knows his desire to just go look around is likely not worth the risks associated with it, but he hasn’t budged and he isn’t having second thoughts. And Steve didn’t back out on him, so…

Eddie slips through the doors of the old Family Video only moments after Steve. Without a word, he pulls himself up to sit on the dusty countertop and stares out into the abandoned store, his shoulders tense. For a moment, his chest feels tight, like he’s mourning a time totally lost to him now. A time when he’d slip in here after Hellfire, rent The Beastmaster for the umpteenth time, return it the next week without rewinding it, and make a smart comment when Steve tried to call him out on it. Simple, easy, totally taken for granted at the time. Can’t go back to that time now, though.

Finally, he peers over his shoulder, a tight smile on his face as he watches Steve pop the tape into the rewinder. ]

Guess someone missed the memo to be kind, rewind before they got the hell out of here, huh?

[ A quip, just to ease the tension before he swallows hard and asks: ]

You still with me?

Yeah. [ Steve scoffs, reaching out to hit the stop button. Who cared if the tape wasn't rewound? They'd literally seen what should've been the beginning of the end of the world and had been holding in this weird limbo ever since. No one gave a shit if Annie had been rewound by the last person to have it.

He turns his head to look back at Eddie and is surprised to find Eddie right there, looking over his shoulder. He had a way of sneaking up on Steve without him realizing it, suddenly being incredibly near with those big brown eyes and that easy grin of his. It could be disorienting, if only because it made something unexpected swoop low in Steve's stomach.

He takes in Eddie's expression, his own solidifying into something concrete as he nods. ] Yeah, man. I'm still with you. [ His eyes dip to Eddie's mouth for a second before he makes himself turn away.] He knows Eddie wouldn't be doing this if it wasn't something he had to do. Sure, he could be loud and impulsive and crazy, but he wasn't stupid. And he definitely wouldn't have let Steve come along if it was all just some elaborate suicide mission.

Still, Steve turns around so that he's facing him fully, putting his hands on his hips and giving him his best impression of a stern look. ] But listen, don't try any of that hero shit on me, okay? If things go south we handle it together, no matter what happens.

[ Truth be told, Eddie wouldn’t dream of anyone else coming along with him. He doesn’t even know where he’d begin to explain his desire to return to the place that nearly killed him to someone else. But Steve just seems to get it, regardless of Eddie's ability to explain or not. He may not like it, but he gets it.

Eddie seems calm enough, but there are telltale signs that his stomach is in knots and he’s absolutely terrified. His spine remains stick straight and shoulders tense, and his fingers tap out a nonstop rhythm against the countertop as he gazes back at Steve with eyes so wide, they couldn’t hide a thing if he tried. He’s scared, but he’s still not backing down. ]

Yeah, alright. No hero shit. But, uh, same goes for you, Steve.

[ Eddie tried so hard to play the hero and, along with a healthy dose of residual guilt for breaking his promise to Steve that he wouldn’t, nearly bled out in an alternate dimension for his trouble. That was one time, and he’s seen the way Steve steps in every goddamn time without fear or concern for himself. He’s gotten lucky so far, walking away with nothing but scars, but Eddie doesn’t want the next time to be the one that kills him, and he doesn’t want to be the person Steve takes that fall for.

So, unaffected by that stern look, he extends a hand, smiling softly as those wide brown eyes implore Steve to shake on it. ]

We do this totally together or not at all. Deal?

[ Steve huffs, breaking eye contact and shaking his head. He knows he's just as guilty of wanting to play hero, especially if it means keeping the other safe. Robin's called him out on it enough times that he's very aware it's a character flaw. That doesn't mean it also can't make sense. His skills are limited, mainly to the physical, and he's willing to play to his strengths when he needs to.

He knows that if it comes down to it, he'll do whatever he needs to in order to get Eddie out of there alive, but he still doesn't hesitate to nod and reach out for Eddie's hand. ] Yeah, yeah. Deal.

[ Eddie's hand is warm and he can feel the calluses from his guitar playing on is fingers. He gets lost in his earnest eyes for a moment before Steve remembers to let go and immediately turns to unzip the duffel bag. ] Okay, lets talk weapons. I couldn't exactly get a trash can shield down here, but... [ He pulls out an axe.] I've got this or the spiked bat.

[ He almost gets stuck in that moment, hand in hand, gazing into Steve’s eyes. For the briefest microsecond, he toys with the idea that maybe just maybe, he could find all his answers there and skip this mission entirely, but Steve drops his hand and steps away and Eddie quickly comes to his senses.

He scrubs his face with his hands to urge himself back to reality, then slips off the counter to peer into the duffle bag. ]

Decisions, decisions.

[ He reaches down to pluck the axe from Steve and gives it a swing to test the balance and weight. Eddie’s level of physicality isn’t exactly as reliable as Steve's. He’s light and quick, but he’s also not terribly skilled when it comes to weaponry of any sort. The axe is heavier and more awkward to wield than his homemade spear and shield were, but it will do the job. It has to do the job. ]

Not exactly the type of axe I’m used to, but it’ll do. Anything else in that magic bag of yours?

[ There's a part of Steve that's a little relieved he'll be swinging the bat again. It's weight and presence has become something of a comfort, weirdly, through all of this. A constant reminder that he's capable of fighting back and not quite as helpless as he feels most of the time. He nods at Eddie's decision and then opens the bag a little wider for him to see the other supplies.

Some food stuff, a few knives, the materials for a few Molotov cocktails, some heavy-duty flashlights and Steve's radio. It's light on weapons, which he's acutely aware of. I was going to try to grab some guns, but you know how Nancy is with the ammunition. She would've said something.

[ He gives Eddie an apologetic look. There's also the fact that they're both lousy shots, but that's not important when you're headed into the Upside Down. He reaches up and pushes his hair out of his face. ] Did you tell Wayne?

Oh, yeah. One bullet out of place and she’d be down here in about ten seconds flat. I get it, man.

[ He snorts as he digs through the bag, trying to parse what might be missing. Weaponry, obviously, but there’s only so much that can be done there. Eddie isn’t confident that he wouldn’t put a bullet through Steve on accident with a gun in his shaking hands anyway, so this is probably better.

Then Steve asks about Wayne, and…Eddie isn’t a very good liar. The long stretch of silence and the way his shoulders tense and he avoids eye contact all speak volumes, and his short response says even more: ]

I left a note.

[ He hates how much of a burden he’s become to his uncle. He hates that he can’t do anything about it when he can’t even leave town—or even exist in town without someone hurling abuse at him for a crime that he should be free of. He knows it’s not right to keep Wayne in the dark, but he doesn’t want to add another weight of worry to the old man’s shoulders, so his note was short, sweet, and contained absolutely no information whatsoever: With Steve. Be back later. With any luck, the fact he’s with a friend will soothe any immediate concerns and the second part won’t be a lie. ]

We could use a rope. An extension chord will do the job, though, so—

[ As if to avoid discussing the manner in which he let his uncle in on this entire thing, he suddenly walks away from the conversation entirely, slipping into the back room without a word. The whole store has basically been gutted of anything worthwhile, but he still returns to Steve a few minutes later, winding an orange extension chord around his arm. ]

Check.

[ Steve winces when Eddie says he left a note. If things do go wrong, that's going to be something that he's going to regret, but they're already here and they both know if he tried explaining anything to Wayne he'd stop them, or worse, try to join them. Besides, it's not like he left his parents anything at all.

Eddie is moving away before Steve can ask him anything else about it, though, and Steve lets him go. He nods when he returns. ] Yeah, good idea.

[ He takes a deep breath and shrugs.] All right, lets do this.

[ The plan goes off almost too easy, which really should've been a sign that they were screwed, but it seems that Steve still hasn't learned his lesson about his luck yet. They manage to hop onto the second truck in the convoy, after watching Hopper sneak into the first. He just hopes Mike and Lucas weren't watching the second truck from the clock tower as they pull through the gate to the Upside Down. They'd be able to know for sure if they could switch on the radio, but he doesn't want to take the risk of the driver hearing anything.

He can almost feel the air thicken as they pass through the gate, the cool November air dropping to something several degrees cooler. He nudges Eddie, his voice barely a whisper.] We've got to jump early or Hopper might see us. Aim for the grass, tuck and roll. [The driver slams on the brakes and the truck lurches, sending Steve stumbling into the wall and then stumbling into Eddie. He reaches out and grips his shirt with both hands, trying to stay upright, his eyes wide.

Shit.]

Edited 2026-01-17 17:39 (UTC)

[ Eddie knows he could have done better. He knows his uncle deserves so much more than a vague note, more than non-explanations, and more than a nephew who’s always sneaking around, but all he can do is hope that he and Steve come back from this and he can finally begin to do better. For now, he’s just glad that Steve doesn’t try to draw him back to the topic to chide him, but merely lets it go.

When the first step of their plan goes off without a hitch, Eddie is immediately suspicious. His stock of good luck has always been in short supply, like the batch allotted to him at birth was spoiled. The truck rolls smoothly along for a time, and Eddie bites his nails, his stomach in knots and his heart in his throat as he waits for the other shoe to drop. That’s exactly seems to happen when the true comes to an unexpected and rocky stop. ]

Shit, shit, shit—

[ Eddie hisses under his breath as the two of them careen into one another. Steve’s hands gripping his shirt, Eddie scrambles for purchase, struggling to keep the two of them upright, but he only stumble back against the wall, pulling Steve with him. And sure, maybe he’s had a particularly good dream or two that began something like this, with the two of them pressed into impossibly close quarters for one reason or another, but those had been nice scenarios. This scenario leaves Eddie horror-stricken, unsure of what to do next. Do they hide? Look innocent and come up with their best excuse when the back of that truck opens? Bolt?

Eyes wide, looking like a deer caught in the headlights, he stays put, not wanting to call even more attention to the back of the truck. He whispers: ]

That’s…not our cue, is it?

I don't think so. [ His mouth is suddenly bone dry and he flinches at the sound of shouting and gunfire. Hopper. Was that Hopper? Steve's heart jumps into his throat, choking him.

Then he hears it. A screeching kind of chittering followed by screaming, and all the color drains from Steve's face. He bunches his fist into Eddie's shirt and yanks him down behind the crates, already reaching for the bag.] Fuck. [ His voice cracks on the word.] It's a demogorgon.

[ He should've grabbed the fucking guns. What the hell had he been thinking? Nancy might have caught on and been pissed, but she wouldn't have wanted them out here against a demogorgon with an axe and a spiked bat. ] Grab the axe! [He's reaching for one of the bottles with one hand and digging into his pocket for the lighter with the other when the truck suddenly roars to life and then shifts into reverse, sending him crashing back into the side of the truck again.

Good, at least their driver had some kind of sense. The right wheel shifts, and they spin around, speeding back towards the gate. The relief only lasts a minute, though, because there's the sound of another screech and the sound of something huge hitting the side of the truck, it's claws scraping against the metal.

Steve is scrambling to try to find the lighter that he dropped, already smelling gasoline from the smashed molotov soaking into his jeans when he hears the door being ripped off and the scream of the driver abruptly cut off and then fade away.[ Shit, shit, shit! [The lighter's gone. He grabs Eddie's arm instead, pulling him to the opening of the truck bed.] We have to get out of here. Run!Now.

Edited (html fail) 2026-01-24 23:14 (UTC)

[ Eddie’s head snaps toward the thunder of voices and gunfire, eyes impossibly wide, like those of a cornered animal. Then comes the screech, and his stomach twists his heart leaps into his throat, and he can hardly get a breath in. True to his nature, he’d absolutely love to scream, to bolt, to shut down entirely, but he’s quick to tamp his surge of panic down. It’s not going to do either of them any good, and he continues to drill that into his own head: Don’t freak out, don’t freak out, you can’t freak out.

The demogorgons scare him even more than the bats ever did. The bats were at least still recognizable as bats; creepy mutated bats with razor sharp teeth, but bats all the same. The demogorgons are so uncanny, they manage to look human, animal, monster, and just wrong all at once. Eddie has only seen one up to this point, and he had hoped to never see or run into one again.

He scrambles for his axe and steels himself in preparation, hands twisting anxiously at the handle as Steve fumbles beside him, but his opportunity to use it never comes. Claws on metal, another scream, Steve pulling on his arm—run, he says, and Eddie doesn’t ask questions. He stumbles from the truck and allows himself to be pulled forward, deeper into the Upside Down.

But Eddie makes a mistake. He looks back. Despite knowing that it will only turn his stomach and further deflate any bravery he started this evening with, he looks back, and his hesitation is enough to distract the demogorgon from its current meal. The more fresh meat the better, right? And this much fresh meat doesn’t just stroll in every day. The creature lifts its head and begins to stalk in their direction.

Eddie panics. ]

Jesus Christ, Jesus Christ, Jesus fucking Christ! Steve! Steve, we’ve really gotta pick up the pace!

[ It's his turn to take Steve by the arm, to begin pulling him in a different direction, because he's just spotted a tiny dilapidated building (he thinks it may be an old ranger's cabin), and it seems like just enough to take refuge in to try to get this thing off their backs.

Couldn't hurt, at least. ]

[ooc: seemed like a good place to start, no immediate emergencies for anyone to deal with, but we can always throw something at them later for kicks]

Roger-dodger, I'll be out front.

Eve immediately set a timer, mostly so that she wouldn't lose track, because she knew she was liable to if she didn't have the timer, which was... well it was a change from the lab, where she'd almost always known how long she'd been doing something, or how long a task would take. She liked the fact that she could sometimes forget to keep track now, except in instances when she actually needed to.

She was down to five minutes when she'd whittled her pile of research materials down to what she could check out in one sitting, setting the rest on a collection cart on her way to the desk and stuffing her selection into her backpack once she'd gotten them processed -three minutes and change- and was at the bottom of the steps out front, backpack slung over one shoulder and the skateboard Max had passed down to her propped against her hip, shutting off the timer since she was outside with time to spare, and still had a little bit of a buffer in not knowing exactly how long the pizza would take.

On most days, Eddie doesn’t think much of his ability to be a responsible adult—mainly because it’s exceedingly difficult to feel like an adult when you still live at home and you’re repeating your senior year of high school for the third time. But it’s clear that Wayne trusts him and expects him to be an adult for the weekend, at least enough to keep his shit together, to keep his adopted sister alive, and to ensure the house stays standing.

He’s capable of that, at least.

His old van rolls up seconds after Eve steps though the doors of the library, pizza in tow, made to her specifications because it was her money that bought it. He knows she sees him, but he taps the horn anyway and grins, calling though the open window:

“Your carriage awaits!"

Eve grinned as she popped the door open, swinging herself up into the seat, backpack dropped into the footwell, skateboard wedged in beside the seat, buckling herself in even as she turned to face him, "Alright. Consider! Aarakocra rogue. Raven or magpie?" A jay of some sort was also a possibility, since they were also corvids, but they were more food-oriented than 'hey a shiny thing' oriented, and a rook was also a possibility, but she was pretty sure they would lean towards fighter or some kind of spellcaster.

She was, it seemed, running with the singular instruction of 'get weird with it' for the upcoming one-shot, the one that would likely end up being two sessions if not three, because that was just how these things went at least half the time.

Had she just spent upwards of three hours at the library researching birds? ...not entirely. Definitely most of it, though.

Eddie waits until she’s buckled and turns down his music a couple notches to have a proper conversation as he pulls out of the library parking lot. Eddie had never expected to end up with a sibling (though who can say what his father gets up to? He may very well have a few half-siblings out there somewhere), but Eve has slotted nicely into he and his uncle’s lives, like she was meant to be here.

“Magpie,” he responds almost immediately, a fond smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Obviously. I mean, just as smart, smaller and lighter, less overused? Sounds like gold to me. Is that what you were researching?”

"See," It was a bright exclamation, smacking one hand against the seat in excitement, "That's what I figured. And not the whole time, but yeah most of it, librarians think I'm into birds now, asked if I was going to start a birdwatching club and I didn't know people even did that." Apparently even after a few years she was still figuring out what real people did for fun.

"So! Typical cloak-and-dagger type magpie aarakocra rogue, or, high-seas swashbuckler type macaw aarakocra rogue?" Rogue was new for her either way, which meant she was going to have a good time with either version.

She shook her head even as she asked, "And I'm not trying to weasel plot details out of you, just asking which one sounds like they'd fit better in the party, if anyone else has told you what they're running with yet."

Maybe the worst part about Robin being friends with someone who hated him ("He doesn't hate you, Steve, believe me you'd know if Eddie hated you.") was that he couldn't even complain about Eddie as a customer, because on the rare occasions that he was actually a customer -instead of just swinging by to grab Robin for lunch- he was actually one of the most reasonable customers they had. He didn't dawdle over his order, didn't try to finesse discounts that didn't exist, or extra toppings -though Robin usually gave him those anyway and Steve couldn't even argue that because he did the same for the kids- and didn't lurk to bother the other customers.

That particular afternoon they'd just survived two tsunami-level waves of customers, which now that he wasn't in the thick of it, he could make a guess that movies had let out as far as the two sets of people overlapping. Robin had taken off for lunch -almost an hour late- before they could get another one, and so he put on his best customer-service smile at Eddie's arrival, "Hey, you just missed her. Anything I can help you with?"

Robin had already teased him about being jealous that she had other friends, even when he'd tried explaining that he wasn't jealous, he just didn't want her to get hurt. He had no way of knowing that Robin had given Eddie a similar 'no, he doesn't hate you, he doesn't even know you' lecture at least once. If he had known... well it probably wouldn't have changed anything about that particular greeting.

Eddie doesn’t hate Steve, and therein kind of lies the problem. Steve Harrington represents everything he should hate: rich, popular, plays sports, slots so neatly into the vision of conformity that Hawkins loves so much. There was a time where Eddie was certain he had Steve all figured out without ever actually knowing him. He’d built a highly negative concept of him in his mind, and that’s the vey same concept that’s begun to soften an fall away as the summer rolls on.

Because rich or not, he’s not in college. He’s working at an ice cream parlor. Popular or not, he’s nice enough to Robin. He has yet to short-change Eddie, and Eddie has even seen him letting a group of kids use the back entrance as a shortcut to the movie theater. It’s unexpected and genuinely upstanding behavior across the board, and it drives Eddie insane that it doesn’t fit what he thinks he knows about Steve Harrington. Not even a little. Not at all.

Too bad Steve absolutely loathes him. Robin had shut him down the very first time he’d tried to bring it up (“he doesn’t even know you, you roll through for ice cream once a day and barely exchange two words with him”), but Eddie can tell. He doesn’t even know why he gives a shit what Steve Harrington thinks, or why it’s so important to him, or why he can’t string together more than two words in his presence, but it’s all annoying as hell and he would very much like it to stop.

He’s taken to trying his hardest to time his ice cream breaks when he knows Robin is back from her break and it isn’t just he and Steve not making conversation, but wouldn’t you know it? It would seem that what little luck he possesses is not on his side today.

“No,” he responds, tone oddly clipped. He hesitates, peering over his shoulder as if expecting Robin to come to his rescue. She doesn’t, so he moves onto word number two as he begins to turn aside: “Uh…thanks.”

“Actually,” he begins with a sudden inhale, suddenly whirling back around to face the counter once more. “Could I get a ride? Like…later? I blew out the engine on my van and I’m really not looking forward to walking all the way to east Hawkins in this heat. Normally I’d catch a ride with Robin, but she’s got a thing, I guess? Don't ask me what.”

"Dentist appointment." He replied automatically, though it was only after a rather impressive string of expressions ran across his face in quick succession, some of them repeating at least twice, finally settling on a kind of mild confusion, because he was trying to figure out how he was the reasonable option for something like that, but found himself carrying on his thought even despite trying to puzzle out what was going on here and whether or not it was some kind of prank, "And you know she doesn't drive, right? I'm usually taking her home." Maybe not usually, but more often than not, since it was easier than having one of her folks drive all the way out to get her since he was already heading that direction anyway.

Probably part of how the two of them had already gotten weirdly inseparable, and that was something Steve was trying not to look at too hard because, well, that way lies doom, or something to that effect.

But realizing that he was actually going to miss that chatterbox riding shotgun on the way back to town, he just scratched at an eyebrow with his thumb, considering for probably less time than he should have, "So sure? I can give you a ride, I mean. Just don't make me regret it."

Eddie blinks at Steve’s near immediate response, not actually expecting him to know more about Robin’s prior commitments than he does.

“Yeah,” he replies slowly, almost suspiciously, eyes narrowing ever so slightly. “Yeah, that sounds right.”

The thing is…he has no reason to be suspicious. As he’s already have to force himself to admit, Steve is nice to Robin. He hasn’t heard or seen anything he might unsavory, but sailor suit or not, Steve Harrington does have something of a reputation when it comes to women, and Robin just so happens to b an extremely likable young woman. Eddie can’t help but worry that this friendship could take a turn and with absolutely no chance of Robbin reciprocating, it could spiral into something awful.

But it’s fine. It’s fine for now. Eddie shakes it off and comes to lean against the counter, a little too close for comfort. He tips his head and grins, eyes bright.

“Yep, I know. But, uh…guess that means you’re as good of a second choice as any, doesn’t it, Harrington?”

Honestly Steve only knew because she'd been complaining about it, namely by way of just how much she hated dentists in general, and Steve had tuned most of it out, only paying enough attention to know if she jumped topics with zero notice as she was prone to doing, it had taken him a solid three weeks to at least be mostly able to catch it when it happened now.

It was his turn to squint suspiciously, if only for a moment, at the encroachment into his personal space, not sure why it didn't twig him as being a problem. Sure, the kids had conditioned him to not having any, and Robin had definitely furthered that, but that was people he knew, people he liked, it was a potential concern that he didn't seem to be bothered by it from Eddie.

But that was why he pushed himself up away from his own lean against the counter, arms folding, "I already agreed, Munson, also said don't make me regret it." He glanced at the clock, "I've got about two hours left, maybe less if night shift comes in early, you going to stick around or swing back by?"

Eddie grins, thoroughly pleased with himself for at least managing to ruffle Steve’s feathers enough that he moves away before Eddie can completely push into his personal space. Not that he would. He usually behaves himself, respecting that this is a friend’s workplace and he needs to rein himself in to some degree, but this is different. Robin isn’t here, the place is absolutely dead right now, and without paying customers, is it really anyone’s workplace?

He doesn’t think so. Not at the moment, anyway.

“Nothing to regret, Steve,” he responds with an innocent smile, retreating back into a more socially acceptable distance. “I’m a perfectly well behaved passenger.”

Two hours is a long time, and it would serve Eddie better to leave and come back later, but for whatever reason, he feels the innate desire to stay and wait it out. So without a second thought, he backs away from the counter, drops into a seat at one of the little tables, and twists his fingers together with a grin.

“I’ll hang out.”

"Sure, just you know, don't bother anybody." Not that there was anyone to bother at the moment, and that was -Steve had learned- the problem with Scoops, it was either slammed all day, dead all day, or vacillated wildly between the two in a way that made it impossible to get a third person on staff each shift, no matter how both day shift and night shift wanted one for those busy times.

Robin returned with just enough time to grab her stuff, clock out, wave a hello to Eddie, tell Steve to call the night shift to come in for early coverage since he hadn't gotten lunch, and then vanish again.

He just blinked at the whirlwind, mostly because he never would have thought of calling the next shift to come in early unless it was an actual emergency. Of course, actually doing so had to wait until the next wave of customers was handled, but in the end it was only about an hour until Drew arrived and Steve dipped into the back room to leave apron and hat on the hook, grabbing his keys before popping his head out around the door again, "Let's hit the road, man."

Eddie rolls his eyes, crosses his heart with an index finger, and for the next hour, he behaves himself. He remains quietly seated at his little table, and although he fidgets constantly (tapping his fingers, jostling his knee, shifting positions every two minutes), and makes no effort to purposefully bother Steve or the lazy parade of late afternoon customers that comes marching through. At some point, he flips open a battered spiral notebook and begins writing furiously in it, looking up only to wish Robin luck with her dentist appointment—hope they don’t drill the wrong tooth, he had called after her with a grin.

He’s still scribbling in that notebook, expecting to be waiting for another hour, when Steve calls to him. He gathers his things up quickly, pushes in his chair like the upstanding young man he is, and hurries to fall into step beside Steve.

“Hey, uh, congratulations, by the way,” he says suddenly, like he’s been holding onto that one little word for the past hour. “On graduation. Turns out that Hawkins High isn’t ready to let me go just yet, but...cool that someone managed."

"Thanks, I think, but it was barely and the options were 'graduate and get a job' or 'don't and get shipped off to boot camp', so, not really that much of a choice." He hadn't been sure just how serious that particular threat was, but it was one of a handful his dad had made more than once, which definitely lent some credibility to it.

He shook his head, as if to shake that line of thought off, "Honestly Nancy's the one who helped the most, Wheeler, wouldn't have managed it without her." Steve moved unerringly, he'd already memorized the path through the maintenance halls from the shop to the exit nearest the parking lot, since he tried to go unnoticed as long as possible while still in uniform. He shouldered the door open, waving Eddie through and nodding towards the actual mall exit, "This way."

There wasn't really a designated 'staff' area of the parking lot -though everyone felt like there should be- but he'd gotten there fairly early that morning, so he wasn't parked far away, just fishing his keys out of his pocket, unlocking the passenger side out of habit more than anything else before circling around to the driver's side.

Eddie takes the opportunity to peer sideways at Steve as they trudge through the dingy maintenance halls, trying to imagine all that perfect hair shaved off for the military. It’s not half as funny of an image as he thought it might be. In fact, it’s kind of sad and offers a glimpse of the Harrington household that he never knew existed. Maybe money can’t buy happiness, but it surely helps, right? Between the nice car, a pool, giant house, never having to skip meals—what could Steve Harrington ever have to be unhappy about? Well, more than Eddie thought, apparently, but he doesn’t push for more information.

Eddie has always struggled with school. The material just doesn’t come easily to him, and no one ever talks about what a battle it is to try to focus on something you don’t find at all interesting. But not once has he ever been threatened with boot camp. Maybe it’s because Wayne knows that his nephew could never survive a place like that, or that he simply knows Eddie is trying his hardest in a system not built for him and that’s all he can ask for. His uncle’s support is one of the only reasons he hasn’t dropped out. He’d like to actually make the old man proud someday. Third time’s a charm, maybe.

“Well, count yourself lucky, Harrington,” he calls as he ducks into the passenger seat. “This will be my sixth year in that goddamn school, and I speak from experience when I say the curriculum doesn’t get any more interesting. But hey, they can't exactly surprise me at this point.”

Without permission, almost on instinct, he pops the glovebox open and begins to rifle through it, ignoring the usual paperwork and nonsense that usually ends up in a glovebox. That’s not what he’s after.

“No tapes, dude?"

"Not in the glovebox." He replied as if that was the most ridiculous suggestion that he'd ever heard, "There's a shoebox under the seat." One that Robin had already added to, and while he didn't think she'd actually removed anything from it, he wasn't entirely sure, since the kids had definitely done the same, and it wasn't like he'd had more than a couple things in there himself in the first place.

It was easy enough to just circle back to the statement before that even as he started to make his way out of the lot, alert as ever, "And no, the curriculum doesn't get any more interesting and it doesn't actually change that much." He debated for a moment, thumbs drumming idly against the steering wheel before asking: "Mr. Hauser's still teaching English, right?" He was pretty sure he would have heard from Robin if the guy had retired, what with him being her favorite teacher and all, but was going to gauge just how much information to relay from Eddie's response.

Eddie rolls his eyes and bites his tongue, holding back on what he’s actually thinking—that he’d assumed Steve was one of those guys who didn’t actually care about music enough to form an opinion about it or keep more than a handful of tapes on hand. It’s a bit of an assholeish assumption, but it’s one he’d make about just about anyone. It’s just inescapable; not everyone loves music to the degree Eddie does.

But he reaches beneath he seat, and lo and behold, there is a shoe box. It’s a little sparser than the stuffed milk crate he keeps in his own van, but he hoists it up into his to lap and begin shifting through tapes, holding each one up like he’s scrutinizing precious gems instead of brittle plastic.

“Nah, man,” he replies vaguely. “Hauser left, like, mid-year. Came back after winter break and he was gone. Surprised you didn’t know. I mean, there’s not much that doesn’t become a wildly inaccurate rumor around here.”

It had all been quite sudden, and while Eddie thinks he may have a vague idea as to what happened, he doesn’t make it a point to poke into teachers’ personal lives. Hauser had actually liked Eddie to some degree, though, and his class had been one of the few he wasn’t crawling his way through. He’s already kind of missing that.

“At least someone got out of this goddamn town,” he sighs, squinting at a tape before dropping it back into the box and shifting his gaze back to Steve, flat and unimpressed.

“’Kay, so, remind me to introduce you to some real music,” he says, like this isn’t a one time thing, like this ride isn’t going to take fifteen, twenty minutes tops and they'll never be in such close quarters again. But despite his criticism, he finds something that he deems worthy. He pops open the case, slips the tape into the deck, and the soulful voice of Van Morrison begins to drift from the speakers. And it doesn’t take much; a stanza or two and Eddie is captivated by the music, tapping his fingers, half humming, half singing along like he isn’t in the car of a near-stranger:

And it stoned me to my soul
Stoned me just like going home
And it stoned me

"Damn, guess someone figured out he was using the same answer key for all his tests so he wouldn't have to adjust the scantron." He doubted that was actually a fireable offense, but he didn't really know, since all it took was one student figuring it out to become something that benefited most of them, and making the students' lives easier was the one thing the faculty seemed to be well and truly against.

His brow furrowed at that insistence, just blinking, glancing at Eddie and responding, "Why do you think I have that many tapes? I've got Robin and an entire squad of almost-teenagers trying to do the same thing." He shook his head, gaze returning to the road, honestly a little amused by how readily Eddie fell into bobbing along with a song Steve sort of half-recognized, "And I have to tell you, I'm not sure anyone else knows what 'real music' is, either."

He shrugged, "All I'm saying is that everybody just knows what they like. And before you say anything, yes, that also includes me."

“Mmm,” he intones thoughtfully, scrunching up his face and tilting his head. “Not so sure you can get fired for that. Not when I know for a fact that Higgins is popping pills in his office on a daily bass just for the hell of it. Not a whole lot of room to judge after that, you think?”

Don’t ask him how he knows. He will be taking no questions at this time. In fact, he glosses over it and skips baack to the more important subject at hand: music.

“Yeah, well, judging by the slim pickings in this box?” He rattles the shoebox to prove his point before he shoves it unceremoniously beneath the seat again. “I believe that.”

He and Robin have some overlapping taste. In fact, he suspects the Van Morrison tape belongs to her. Eddie would never pretend he’s too good for mainstream acts like Bowie and Fleetwood Mac, but given the choice, he’d much rather gravitate to his own carefully curated tape collection.

But his interest has been piqued, and with a wide grin, he leans just a little further into Steve’s personal bubble.

“And what does Steve Harrington like? If you’re not afraid of my judgment, that is.”

"Well I wasn't until you mentioned it and now I think maybe I should be." He replied, eyes narrowing with another brief glance towards Eddie, especially as he leaned in closer.

He did, however, shake his head, since it wasn't like he'd actually have to deal with that judgment for anything more than the time it took to get back to town, just ticking off on his fingers as he listed, "Springsteen, obviously." Though it was only when he said it that he realized it might not be obvious, "Cyndi Lauper, Bon Jovi, Queen, and I mean, Dolly Parton, of course."

He shrugged then, "And honestly? I've actually liked any of the stuff Robin's thrown in the box, some of it's weird, but it's not like I go out of my way to avoid any of it."

Open Post/Overflow

@charmingdingus

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Season 5 Spoilers/AU

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Emergency Pizza Money TFLN from a while ago

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S3 Redux

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