Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

It wasn’t that there was anything wrong with the girl sitting across the table from Steve, with her soft blonde bob and pearl headband; baby blue cashmere sweater and sticky lip gloss; boring conversation and unfunny jokes. 

It was just…there wasn’t really anything right, either. 

She was just a person. Someone he’d probably forget by next week. 

He wondered, for perhaps the dozenth time that night, why he had agreed to this when he could have been sprawled out on Eddie’s couch, teasing him for liking his popcorn “only a little burnt” and watching one of the weirdo B-movies Eddie insisted on showing him. 

Steve drummed his fingers against the crisp white tablecloth while he waited for the check, wishing he’d instead just grabbed burgers and fries at the diner with Eddie. 

“Steve, are you okay?” the girl asked, batting her long, mascara-clumped eyelashes at him. 

His gaze snapped back over to her. “Oh—” An awkward chuckle escaped him. “Yeah. Just—the service here is kind of slow isn’t it?” It certainly seemed that way when he had nothing to say. Steve was a listener; he needed a talker or the conversation would die. Sure, he was a master of putting on the charm and flirting his way into a girl’s good graces, but talking about himself and leading a real conversation was not his forte. Luckily, Eddie never seemed to run out of things to say, and Steve never got bored of listening. It was amazing how he suddenly found himself caring about Dungeon and Dragons and all sorts of other nerd stuff he’d sworn to Dustin he’d never engage in when Eddie was the one telling him about it.

His date arched a brow at him. “It’s seemed fine to me. Are we in a hurry?” 

Yes. “No. No. No rush. What did you think of the food?”  Steve caught the waiter’s eye and signaled for the check, eyeing her half-eaten seafood pasta. “I just don’t want to hold anyone up. The waiters have to turn tables, you know.” He pushed his hand through his hair, Robin popping into his head and scolding him for the nervous habit. He wasn’t sure when she’d turned into his inner voice, but he supposed her laidback teasing was better than his father’s angry judgement. 

“That’s—considerate of you.” She says it like it’s anything but, her mouth pressed into a line, the corners turned down ever so slightly. 

The waiter drops off the check (finally) and Steve’s eyes nearly bug out at the cost. Jesus Christ. Thirty-five dollars? For an hour of stilted conversation, fake smiles, and a mediocre steak. God, dating was the worst. 

“Is there something wrong with the check?” she asked. 

Steve sighed, no longer bothering to hide behind the charming mask of romance. There wasn’t going to be a second date, and if she hadn’t realized that yet, well, that was on her. “No. It’s fine.” He tucked the rest of his cash into the bill folder, glad he had enough on him to leave a decent tip, and stood from his chair with such fervor, his hip knocked into the table. The glassware rattled and Steve cringed, while his date crossed her arms over her chest with a light huff. 

Once they were outside, Steve swirled his keys around his finger and nodded his head toward his car. “That’s me. I’ll—uh—I’ll call you. This was…nice.” He offered her a kind smile; a consolation prize, if anything. They both knew she wouldn’t be getting a phone call.

She twirled a strand of honey-colored hair and curled her fingers around Steve’s wrist, stopping his anxious fidgeting. “Look, I think we both know tonight was a dud.” 

Steve winced. “I’m sorry, I—”

The girl cut him off with a chuckle and a wave of her hand. “No, it wasn’t just you. I just don’t think we mesh like we were maybe both hoping.”

“Yeah. I mean you’re great and all but—” But you’re taking way too long to tell me how much your night sucked and I have to get back to—

“Just because you’re not planning on asking my dad for my hand, doesn’t mean tonight has to end. I mean—you’re attractive enough—” Steve huffed out a laugh at that, “—I could come back to your place.” Her fingers trailed from his wrist, up the length of his arm, before settling on his bicep. 

Steve hesitated; silently staring in shock as if he had never been propositioned by a pretty girl for casual sex before.Yeah, it had been months since a date had even wanted to hook up, and he was in the middle of a dry spell of such severity that Dustin had started trying to set him up with some of Suzie’s older Mormon friends. (Steve still didn’t understand what garments were.) Yet, for some reasons his dick would never understand, he said, “Not tonight. I have plans.” Well, not really. But Steve knew Eddie would be happy to listen to him complain and crack open a couple beers with him. 

She shrugged. “I get it. Well, see you around, Steve.” 

It wasn’t until she pulled out of the parking lot that Steve realized he wasn’t even quite sure he remembered her name.

###

Eddie let Steve into the trailer with sympathetic eyes paired with a mocking smile, and Steve had to resist collapsing into his friend’s arms in defeat. Instead, he bee-lined for the fridge and took out two beers, cracking them open on the vinyl countertop. 

“That bad, huh?” 

Steve merely groaned in response. 

“Well, lucky for you, I have just the thing to take your mind off your pathetic love life.” 

“Thanks for that, Eds.” But Eddie was right. His love life was pathetic.

Eddie clapped him on the shoulder, beaming widely. “Anytime, Stevie-boy.” He picked up a VHS from the coffee table and presented it to Steve. “You’re in for a treat tonight.” 

“The Toxic Avenger? That looks terrible.” But Steve couldn’t help the fond smile that found his lips. He hid it behind a sip of beer. 

Eddie threw himself over the top of the sofa, landing sprawled upside down, hanging off the edge. “Don’t say such things to me! This—this—is a masterpiece. Pure art.” 

Steve shoved Eddie fully onto the floor with a sharp kick to the ass, and settled on the couch himself, while his friend landed in an uncoordinated pile of lanky limbs. “You said the same exact thing about the wonton soup you got from that one takeout place that always gives you food poisoning.” 

Eddie scrambled to his feet and shoved the VCR tape into his TV, before pointing an accusatory finger at Steve. “First of all, it’s only made me sick two and half times. Second of all, I meant it. Sometimes the best things in life require sacrifice, Stevie. You’d do best remembering that.” He bopped Steve on the nose before taking his spot next to him on the sofa. 

Steve scoffed, batting at Eddie’s prodding fingers. “Yeah, I had to sacrifice my favorite sweater taking care of you that night. The puke stains never came out.” And despite how much he missed that sweater, and how vehemently he’d pleaded with Eddie not to order the damn soup that night, he’d take care of the bumbling mess of a man all over. 

“Hey! You should feel honored to have my vomit permanently bestowed upon you.” 

Steve snorted in response and let his body sink into the cushions, beer heavy in his belly. His head found purchase against Eddie’s side, earning a sharp prod from a ringed finger against his scalp. 

“Your skull is digging into my ribs. You’d think with all this hair your head wouldn’t feel like such a damn bowling ball penetrating my bowels.” Eddie tugged on a lose strand as if to highlight his point, and Steve made a face at Eddie’s frankly, horrid word choice, and hoped it was enough to stifle the pleased groan that pushed its way up his throat. 

“Can’t you just say things like a human?” Steve complained, readjusting himself so his head lay in Eddie’s lap instead, his legs sprawled across the rest of the sofa. Just as Eddie’s fingers sank into Steve’s hair, he yanked his hand away, making Steve wince as a few stray strands caught on his rings. “Jesus, ow, man. Be careful.” 

“You wound me, Stevie,” Eddie cried and collapsed backwards, head hanging off the back of the couch, his arm draped theatrically over his face as if a true crisis had occurred. 

Steve shifted to scowl up at him and pawed at his arm, nudging Eddie’s hand back into his hair. “Wound you? You nearly scalped me with those damn rings.” His eyes fluttered closed as Eddie continued his ministrations. Steve reveled in the comfortable warmth and  soothing pressure. 

“But my heart! Steve—you have wounded the very core of my being! And to think I considered us friends.” Eddie let out a howl reminiscent of some sort of feral beast as his body shuddered with fake sobs. “I can’t believe you’d ask me to dim myself for your own fragile sensibilities. Next you’ll be asking me to watch your stupid laundry basket game on TV. And after that, well—it’s all downhill into capitalist hell from there. Might as well get the suit and tie out. Shave off these precious tendrils and accept my fate.” He did the sign of the cross and looked up to the ceiling. “Here lies Eddie Munson. Killed by conformity—and Steve Harrington. Not even Daddy God could save him.” 

“Hey, I’ll have you know my sensibilities are hard as shit. Are we already forgetting my nursing you back to health while you leaked from more than just your damn bowels?” Steve tipped his head back further into Eddie’s grip, finding the touch was making his tongue feel thick in his mouth. “Now, stop being an asshole and shush. I’m trying to pay attention to your weird-ass movie.” 

“No you’re not.” 

“Shh.” 

The two of them fell into a comfortable silence, Eddie never removing his hand from Steve’s hair for the entirety of the movie. If it hadn’t been such a godawful film, Steve would have almost been sad when the credits rolled and Eddie stood to turn the television off. 

“So, do you want to talk about it?” Eddie asked, quirking an eyebrow at Steve before settling back next to him. 

“Talk about what?” Steve sat up and frowned, hoping the topic would die there. No, he didn’t want to talk about his pathetic lack of game, actually. 

“How you’re self-sabotaging.” 

Steve sputtered. He’d expected Eddie to tease him for another failed date; needle him for all the boring details and tease him some more. What he hadn’t expected was such brutal insight into his garbled psyche. “I am not self-sabotaging. Plenty of people go on plenty of bad dates. That’s just, like…life, or something, man.”

“But why are you going on these dates? I mean, you complain about them for days leading up, and then you basically speed over afterwards to complain some more. At some point, you’ve got to ask yourself—what are you looking for in these dates?” 

Steve’s heart thudded painfully against his sternum, Eddie’s line of questioning leaving him feeling strangely cracked open and vulnerable. “I don’t know—I don’t know! Isn’t that the point of dating? To try and figure out what I want? I always kind of thought I would know it when I see it.” 

Eddie tapped a finger to his chin as he pondered this and Steve weirdly wanted to reach out for his hand. 

“Well, clearly that’s not working.” 

“Clearly,” Steve muttered with a scowl. 

“So, you’ve got to change it up.” 

“How the hell do I change up dating? It’s dating. You meet someone and you go on a date. Then, you decide if you want to go on another.” 

“You change it up by figuring out what you want beforehand instead of waiting for it to happen to you.”

“And what? Somehow that’ll lure my soulmate out of whatever hole they’re hiding in?” 

“Maybe,” Eddie sang with a smirk. “Just humor me. What does your ideal relationship look like in your mind’s eye?” He tapped Steve in the middle of the forehead. 

“I don’t know, dude. I want—I want someone where being with them doesn’t feel like effort. I can just come home and and sit next to them on the couch and drink shitty beer with them and talk about nothing and somehow it’s still fun. I’m tired of going out with these girls and putting on this mask and trying to charm them into liking me enough to want to take the mask off. It’s exhausting. I want something easy. Something where there are no expectations—not that, like, they shouldn’t have standards, or whatever. I mean, I can be a gentleman. I can be chivalrous. I can flirt out of my ass all day long.

“I guess I just don’t want them to expect a certain version of me that doesn’t exist. I want a relationship where I’m not setting the other person up for disappointment.” The end came out half choked, the rawness of his words burning his throat like charcoal. 

“You’re not a disappointment, Stevie. You’ve only ever exceeded my expectations,” Eddie said so tenderly, it kind of made Steve want to cry. 

“At least I have that going for me.” Steve was constantly gobsmacked at Eddie’s ability to reach into his mind, his heart, and pull at the tangled threads he could never figure out himself, until they loosened enough for him to fall apart. Besides maybe Robin, Steve didn’t think anyone understood him quite like Eddie did. Being friends with Eddie was like cracking himself open and showing off his messy innards in a way he still hadn’t fully come to terms with. Never had Steve allowed himself such vulnerability around another person. As much as Eddie pretended to be all harsh edges and sharp points, he was actually softness and sunshine and his warmth melted Steve into the rawest version of himself. At that, a laugh gurgled its way out of Steve’s mouth. 

Eddie gave a long-suffering sigh, filled with nothing but obvious affection. “I thought we were having a real bro-on-bro moment here. I’m trying to stroke your ego while you lick your wounds and you have the audacity to laugh at me. The disrespect! And in my own home, too. I thought you were better than this, Stevie-boy.” 

“I’m not laughing at you. Actually, I really appreciate you, Eds. So much.” 

“Then what’s so funny?” 

Steve debated saying what he was thinking, but he was never one to avoid putting his foot in his mouth. “I’m thinking—I think I just described you.” 

Eddie went rigid beside Steve and when he spoke, his voice was pitched like he couldn’t quite breathe. “How—what do you mean by that?” 

“I mean—Eds, I think you might be my ideal date.” Steve leaned back with a groan. “God, this sucks.” 

“Am I that bad?” he asked quietly. Any teasing was missing from his tone. 

“Are you even listening to me? You’re great! That’s why this sucks.”

“Steve, please. Before I go insane. Explain to me what you mean.” 

“In this scenario, you’re the person of my dreams, right? So, I just need to somehow find the girl version of you. But part of the reason you’re so perfect is because, we’re just two dudes, you know? How can I recreate that with a girl?” He sighed. “Basically—I’m doomed.” 

Eddie leapt off the couch as if Steve had stabbed him straight through the heart, and gathered the empty beer bottles. “You should go. I’m—You’re—You should just go.” He kept his back to Steve as he set the bottles on the counter and wandered to the sink, rinsing off some dirty dishes. 

“What? Why? I thought I was staying over?” Steve stared at him in confusion, something like dread pooling in his gut. He had the distinct feeling he’d said something wrong—something very wrong—but he wasn’t totally sure what. 

“Nope! No!” Eddie was beginning to sound hysterical, prompting Steve to rush over to him. 

“Did I do something?” 

Eddie set down the plate he was rinsing and chuckled manically into the darkness of the kitchen. “Did he do something, the man asks.” He said it to himself more than to Steve. 

“Eddie, you’re kind of freaking me out here, man. Look, I’m sorry I said I wanted to date you, I mean it wasn’t in like—a gay way, or anything. Jesus, dude. I didn’t think you of all people would care about stuff like that. I just meant it in a friendship way.” 

“Not in a gay way, he says. Just in a friendship way, he says.” The plate clattered in the sink, water still running and Eddie whirled around to face Steve, a manic glint in his eye. “That’s exactly the problem. Dude.”  

“What? What do you mean? Eds, come on. I’m not good at this. Please, just tell me what you mean.” 

“You know, I thought I could do this. I really did. And maybe—maybe that’s my fault, you know.” He stared at the ceiling as he spoke, still not meeting Steve’s gaze. 

“Do what? What can’t you do?” Steve wanted to throw himself at Eddie’s feet and beg him to slow down, to explain in a way he could understand. Because as much as Eddie was able to read Steve as if they shared a mind, Steve struggled to make sense of Eddie’s ramblings and lost trains of thought. 

“Be your friend, Steve!” he shouted, finally looking him straight in the eye.

Something broke deep inside of Steve’s soul.

“Oh. You—you don’t want to be friends anymore?” Tears pricked the backs of his eyes. Whatever was happening hurt worse than any breakup Steve had ever faced. He hadn’t even cried when Nancy had shoved her tiny fist into his chest and torn his heart straight out in Tina’s bathroom. 

“No, Steve. No. I never wanted to be just friends.” 

“Just frien—oh. You’re—?” And just like that, the crack in his soul started to put itself back together. It wasn’t that Eddie didn’t want Steve enough, it’s that he wanted Steve too much. And that realization shouldn’t have been as comforting to Steve as it was. 

“Yes, Steve. I’m gay. I like sex with men. Men like sex with me. Best friends with Dorothy—” 

“Who the hell is Dorothy?” Steve demanded, unable to stop the bud of jealousy from blooming.

“And I’m in great, big, all-consuming gay love with you.” Eddie threw his hands up in frustration as if this was the worst thing to ever happen to him. Steve wouldn’t blame him if it was.

“That’s cool. I’m cool. I’m not gonna, like—beat you up, or anything.” 

Eddie started pacing, gesticulating wildly as he spoke. “And I was okay with that, you know. I had accepted that I was just another sucker to fall for the infamous Harrington charm. I was totally at peace with being quietly in love with you for the rest of my life. It was fine as long as I had a least a piece of you.” 

“And you still can. Eddie, c’mon. Nothing has to change.”

“Everything has to change, Steve. Because while I am over here pining after you like a goddamn stray dog following you around for scraps, you’re going on bad date after bad date—and apparently, apparently—you’re wishing they were me the entire time. Or, the girl version of me, that is.” He let out a humorless laugh that punched Steve harder than Jonathan, harder than Billy, harder than the goddamn Russians. “And that—that is my line.” He pressed his palms into his eyes and groaned. When he looked back to Steve he said, “I love you so much, Stevie. But hearing you say that? I’ve never hurt like that before. I damn near got eaten alive in a hell dimension by mutant bats and hearing you say that still hurt more.” 

Tears tracked down Eddie’s cheeks; shame burned Steve’s. 

“I’m sorry,” Steve all but whispered. 

“Please, just go.” 

And Steve did. 

Chapter Text

Steve somehow managed to drag himself into work the next day when Keith called at ass o’clock in the morning asking him to cover the open with Robin.

 Something ached deep within him; in the very marrow of his bones. And a strange, familiar sort of grief sat heavy on his chest, crushing his heart, maybe cleaving it in half. 

“Jesus, dude. Who shat in your cereal?” Robin, ever the delight, demanded as soon as the bell above the front door announced his arrival.

 Steve only grunted in response. His sorrow was too great for words. 

“Date that bad?” 

“Date?” he asked, looking up at her in confusion. 

She arched a brow at him. “Did you not have a date with some community college girl last night?”

“Oh. Right.” It seemed like years had passed since that date. His life was now split into before Eddie confessed his love to him and after. And so far, the after pulled him forward in a way that felt like being dragged behind a Chevy Pickup. “Date was fine.” 

“So, again, I ask. Who shat in your goddamn cereal?” Robin’s eyes narrowed, probably working hard to ascertain what his specific brand of depression was this morning. 

A migraine would have her on the phone calling Eddie to bring him home. A hangover would have her hurling insults at him. And whatever this was? He wasn’t quite sure how she’d react to this but it would probably be a mix of the two.  

Steve opened his mouth to word vomit every thought and feeling he’d experienced in the past eighteen hours, but before he could get more than a sentence out, the front door chimed again, and Eddie Munson himself walked into the Family Video. Steve’s heart dropped to his goddamn ass. 

Throwing up on the dirty Family Video carpet was not outside the realm of possibility. 

“Robin, I need—” Eddie cut himself off and froze when his gaze landed on Steve, who stood there wide-eyed–on the verge of either passing out, or crying, or laughing, because of course Eddie would walk in at practically the same moment as him. Eddie schooled his features into a cold neutrality that made Steve want to shrink into a corner.  “Harrington, I thought you weren’t working today.” 

Robin frowned, and her stare flitted between the two of them. “It seems we have multiple victims of the Hawkins Cereal Shitter this morning.”

But Steve couldn’t take his eyes off Eddie. They both stared at each other, each waiting for the other to make a move. Finally, he said, “I’m covering for Keith today. Are you—uh—you know—after—sorry—you seem—”

“I’m fine, Harrington,” Eddie all but snapped. 

Steve winced, never having witnessed Eddie speak so viciously to someone, let alone himself. “Sorry. I’m—are you—yeah. Just…sorry.” He averted his gaze and made his way around the counter as an excuse to get away from the horrid awkwardness. 

Eddie let out a sigh and shook his head. “Look, you don’t need to apologize. I’m just gonna go. Bye, Robin.” 

Another chime of the bells, and Steve face planted into the countertop with a groan, ignoring the way he could feel Robin’s confused stare boring into his back. 

“So are you gonna tell me what the hell that was about?” Her sharp finger dug in the skin between his shoulder blades. 

He lifted his head up an inch and then hit it against the wood. “Eddie like—broke up with me or something.” Which was a terrible way to say it, but it was the only thing that accurately depicted the way he felt. 

“I’m sorry, what was that? Because it sure as hell sounded like you just said Eddie broke up with you?” 

Steve spun to face her and slid his back down the counter to sit on the floor, gathering his knees to his chest and resting his chin on them. “Well, not break up like—that. A friend break-up. We’re not friends anymore.” 

Robin scuffed him on the side of the head. “What do you mean you’re not friends? You two can’t just not be friends anymore. That’s like—it’s like—if you and me weren’t friends anymore, and that’s just never going to be a thing.” 

“Did you know that Eddie was in love with me?”

Robin’s eyes widened as she sputtered. Apparently, Steve’s inability to read the room properly was the first thing to render her speechless. Delightful. 

 “He told you that?” she asked, eyes still unblinkingly large with shock.  

“Yep,” he said miserably. 

She held up a finger, said, “Hold on a second,” and rushed around the counter. The lock clicked, and the open sign rustled as she flipped it to closed. “Come to the back with me and tell me exactly what was said.” 

###

“That’s—wow. That’s a lot,” Robin said at the end of Steve’s recount of the night before. 

“Why does it feel like he cut out my heart, threw it on the ground and ran it over with his van?” His eyes burned and he suddenly, humiliatingly, realized that he was about to start crying. Not even years of Upside Down trauma had rendered him to tears the way the sting of Eddie’s rejection did. 

“I think that’s something you need to figure out for yourself,” she said in a way that seemed like it was supposed to be helpful, but really it wasn’t.  

“I’ve lost friends before. I’ve lost best friends before. And it’s never felt like this.” 

“Steve, have you ever—”

Steve looked up at her, and his voice shattered. “Robs, why do I feel like I’ll never be happy again?” He took a shuddering breath and tucked his head in between her neck and shoulder. “Why do I feel worse than I did when Nancy told me I was bullshit and that she didn’t love me and then kind of cheated on me? Why does this hurt so bad? I feel like I can’t breathe without him.” He pressed his hand to his chest, willing his breath to steady and prove him wrong. 

Robin softened and pulled him into a hug while he cried. “Oh, Steve.” She carded her small fingers through his hair, and the reminder of the night before only made Steve cry harder. “I need you to sit up for me.” 

He pushed his face further into her neck, not caring that he was probably staining her vest with his tears and snot and misery. “Can’t,” he mumbled.

She gently nudged him up and shifted so he couldn’t use her as support. “There you go. See, we’re sitting on our own. Things aren’t so dire.” 

“They still feel pretty damn dire, Robs.” He wiped his nose on the back of his sleeve, managing a smirk when Robin made a face at him. 

“Okay, I’m going to say something, and before you respond, I need you to really think about it. Like–pretend you’re a cow and my words are your cud.” 

“I am way too emotionally compromised to understand what that means.”

“It means instead of just reacting, chew on it for a minute. With your mind. Like a cow chews its cud. You get it?” 

He waved a hand at her. “No, but proceed.” 

“Have you considered that maybe the reason this feels so much like the worst breakup of your life is because—it kind of was? At least a rejection of some sort.” 

Steve was silent for a moment, eating his word cud or whatever, as she’d requested. “That makes no sense.” Steve wasn’t great at relationships, but he wasn’t so bad that he could be in one without even knowing. Right? 

“You said that every time you go on a date with some random girl, the entire time you’re just waiting to go home to Eddie’s, right?” 

“Well, yeah. At least he’s good company.” 

“So am I, but you’re not sitting fantasizing about me during your dates.” 

Steve made a face. “I wouldn’t use the word fantasizing.” 

“I would.” She smirked and Steve easily fell into the banter they were so good at.

“The point, Robin?”

“Maybe you don’t need the girl version of Eddie,” she said it carefully, eyeing him as if gauging his reaction.

“Then what do I need?”

“Eddie.” 

As if that made any sense.

“Well, I lost hi—oh. You mean—” Something was beginning to click into place in his mind, but he wasn’t sure what. It was the same thing that offered him a strange sort of comfort when he realized that Eddie wanted him. 

Robin nodded. 

He’d loved Nancy. Wholly and truly. And sex with women well, it was wonderful. Women were beautiful and perfect and soft. With their curves and their lip gloss and their boobies. “How?”

This earned him a scuff to the side of the head. “What do you mean how? You’ve been on like…a gazillion dates, and you’re asking me how?”

“Yeah, with girls, Robin. I mean I love women—I’ve always loved women. Boobies, remember?”

“Yes, Steve—I am acutely aware of your love of boobies.” She made a face of disgust. “Liking Eddie, doesn’t negate all that.”

Steve sat up straighter. “It doesn’t?” he asked weakly.

“No, dingus. Of course not.” 

“I can like both?”

“Yes.” 

“And you’re sure about that? Because this isn’t something you can just say to me without being sure.” 

Robin gave a great sigh. “Yes, I’m sure.” 

“Robin!” he cried out miserably.

“What?”

He shoved her shoulder back in hyperbolic anger. “What the hell, man? Why wouldn’t you tell me that?” 

Robin sputtered at him. “That’s not just a casual thing I tend to tell people, you ass.” 

“I’m not people! I’m your best friend!”

“My straight best friend.” 

“Well apparently not. Because of you!” 

“I did not make you bisexual.” 

Bisexual. The word turned over in his head. He chewed on the cud of bisexuality. “Is that what I am?” 

“I cannot tell you that.” Robin dragged a hand down her face. “Never in my life did I think I would be holding Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington’s hand while he realizes his sexuality,” she muttered to herself.

“We fought an evil wizard with a hard on for clocks in a hell dimension, and my sexuality is what baffles you?”

After a moment seemingly spent pondering his query, she said, “Yes. Absolutely.” She softened against him. “Now what are you going to do about it?” 

Just as Steve was about to answer the bell above the door jingled, heavy footsteps running toward the counter. Steve angrily rubbed fluids from his face and shot to his feet. “Do you not see the closed—oh, Henderson. It’s you.” He offered his hand to Robin and pulled her up from the floor. “It’s just Henderson.” 

Dustin’s eyes narrowed on Steve, and then he looked between him and Robin. “Are you crying?” 

Steve rolled his eyes, hoping it was enough to replace his heartbreak with irritation. “What are you doing here?” 

“What is going on here?” he demanded, still staring as if he could discern the situation simply through examining Steve’s face. 

“Nothing. We’re on break. Now scram, butthead.” Steve grabbed Dustin by the edge of his cap and shoved him in the direction of the exit. 

Dustin’s jaw dropped, eyes widening in what Steve prayed wasn’t any sort of realization. “Oh my God.” 

Warmth flooded Steve’s cheeks. If it were anyone else, he wouldn’t worry about them figuring out what was up with him. But Dustin was too smart for his own good. “Leave.” He pointed angrily at the door, but Dustin, the asshole, didn’t move. 

“You two broke up.” His eyes darted between Robin and Steve before glaring at the former. “Steven, what did you do?”

“Me?” Steve crossed his arms. “What makes you think it was me? Maybe Eddie—”

Robin frantically shushed him, covering his mouth with her hand. It wasn’t until Dustin’s eyes grew even wider, and the boy’s cheeks turned a crimson rarely seen on his face, that Steve realized his mistake. 

“Oh, shit.” 

“You and Eddie?” Dustin demanded. “Since when.”

“Since never. Forget I said anything,” said Steve. 

Dustin moaned miserably and hit his forehead against the counter. “This is the worst thing to ever happen to me.” 

“Oh, so you’re homophobic now?” Robin asked, staring at the boy with an unimpressed look. 

Dustin glanced up at her, and genuine fear flooded his face. “N-no! Of course not. I mean, you guys know about Will. Will is great. And gay. A great, gay guy! It’s just—” He trailed off, brows furrowed, gaze fixed on Steve with a level of perturbance he did not appreciate. 

“Just what?” Robin pressed. 

“It’s just—Steve is like my older brother, you know?”

“Henderson—” Steve warned, having clocked where Dustin’s horrifying train of though was going. 

But Dustin, ever the butthead, continued anyways.“And Eddie is too. So it’s like—” Dustin cringed. “And so is Eddie. So like—the two of you together is like—”

“Do not finish that sentence.”

“Finish it!” Robin cheered on with glee. 

“It’s like my brothers are having sex!” Dustin wailed; a pitch of true trauma. 

“Jesus Christ,” Steve swore, swatting at Robin as she cackled. “It is not like that at all. For so many reasons. Most notably: Eddie and I are not having sex.” 

“They want to be though,” Robin said with an evil giggle. 

Steve rounded on her. “What the hell is wrong with you?” 

She snickered behind her hand and explained, “Steve declared his disgusting gay crush on Eddie last night, except he did it in such a painfully straight way, Eddie kicked him out.” 

“Again with the homophobia!” Steve cried.

“First of all, I’m not homophobic, I’m Steve-phobic. I prefer to imagine you as an amorphous sexless blob and yet you keep ruining that fantasy for me!” She opened a pack of Milk Duds and took one out just to lob it at his head. “Second of all, you’ve been bisexual for about thirty seconds. You can’t claim homophobia until you’ve talked to at least one straight person who isn’t Dustin.” 

“Wait, what’s bisexual?” Dustin asked. 

“It’s when you like both boys and girls,” Robin told him. 

His brow furrowed as he processed this information. “You can do that?” 

Steve smirked. “Why? Something to tell us, kiddo? Because now’s your chance.” 

“Not me. But I think this would be very interesting information for Mike. I can’t wait to tell him.” 

“Mike Wheeler?” Steve asked. 

Dustin looked at him like he was stupid. Not a new occurrence, but an annoying one nonetheless. “Duh, what other Mike do we know?” 

“No. No! Absolutely not. You cannot tell Mike goddamn Wheeler about this. Just keep your trap shut.” He gave Dustin the most stern glare he could muster. “A hard ask for you, I know.” 

Dustin put his hands up in surrender. “Okay. Okay. Jeez.” He mimed zipping his lips. “I am a fortress of your secrets.” 

“Can we be done with this now?” Steve asked in a way that could be described as a whine. 

“No. Not yet,” said Dustin. And Steve could see a plan brewing behind his eyes. “How are you going to fix it with Eddie?” 

“I’m going to talk to him. Like an adult.” 

“That’s it?” Dustin cried in horror. “God, no wonder you’re chronically single. No, you need S.U.Z.I.E.” 

“We are not talking about this to your girlfriend, Henderson.” 

“No, not Suzie. S.U.Z.I.E. Serenade. Unite. Zeal. Intimacy. Euphoria.” 

Robin and Steve exchanged horrified looks. 

“Absolutely not. Half those words I don’t even know. The other half, you shouldn’t know,” Steve said.  

Dustin barreled forward as if Steve hadn’t said anything. “Serenade. You need to sing Eddie his favorite song.” 

“Not a chance in the world.” 

“I don’t know, Steve. I think Eddie would love your Muppet Rendition of Total Eclipse of the Heart,” said Robin, perpetually unhelpful.

“Unite. This one can be flexible. For me and Suzie, it was the first time I held her hand. It could also be a night the two of you decide to unite somewhere. Like the movies. Or the diner.” 

“So a date. What you’re describing is a date.” 

Dustin shook his head as if Steve had just brought home a bad grade. “S.D.Z.I.E is not a good acronym.” 

“Whatever, man. Let me do this my way.” 

“Oh, cause your way has worked so well up until now,” said the little shit. “The minute I stopped taking your advice, I got Suzie. And look at us now. Totally in love going on two years.” 

Steve looked to Robin for support, but she only shrugged. “Kid’s got a point.”

 She gestured at Dustin to continue, which he did far too gleefully for Steve’s liking. “Zeal. Share in Eddie’s zeal. Be enthusiastic about the things he likes. For example, Suzie loves frogs. So I caught a frog in the camp lake with my bare hands and presented it to her. Then, when she told me all about the species—a Pseudacris Crucifer by the way—I listened with rapt attention. I would suggest you join one of our DnD campaigns—Mike wants to run a oneshot in a couple weeks and Eddie said he’d be there. Or read Lord Of the Rings. Make a few references so Eddie knows you’re serious about him.” 

“No way in hell am I subjecting myself to one of your Doorknobs and Dipshits games with Mike Wheeler in attendance.” 

“What is your issue with Mike?”

“He’s an asshole. Kid’s got a bad attitude, and I don’t like it.” 

“Well, maybe if you talk to him about bisexuality and then join his campaign, he’ll like you more.” 

Steve grimaced. He was not about to be Mike’s bisexual Yoda or whatever. Not a chance in hell. “Just—finish this up, would you?”

He put up four fingers, shoving them in Steve’s face. “Intimacy,” he declared.  

“No offense, but if you’re about to tell us about your intimate moments with Suzie, please don’t. We can fill in the blanks,” said Robin. 

“Or you know—we never think hard enough to fill in those blanks, ever,” Steve said. 

“You two are such prudes.” Dustin rolled his eyes. “Grow up! Yes, Suzie and I shared a moment of intimacy. The moon was full. The other campers had gone to bed. The campfire was nothing but embers. And I kissed her.” He sighed dreamily. “It was the greatest kiss of my life.” 

“It was the only kiss of your life,” Steve pointed out.

“Hey! I am totally okay waiting for Suzie and I to reunite. Anyways, finally Ecstasy.” 

“I really don’t think we need to hear about this,” said Steve. Though, the pain of his poor, broken, heart had faded when faced with his sheer irritation toward the kid. 

“Ecstasy is the final step because nothing feels better than finally getting the girl.” His mouth turned down for a moment and he corrected, “Well, getting the guy, I guess.” 

“Okay, Henderson. Great talk. I’ll probably do none of that. But I am going to go talk to Eddie. Like an adult. Which I am.” Steve kissed Robin on the forehead, owing her his entire understanding of himself and leapt over the counter, car keys in hand. “Wish me luck.” 

“Luck!” called Robin, shooting him a double thumbs up. 

“His favorite song is Disposable Heroes!” 

###

In the end, Steve was left wondering if he would’ve been better off with S.U.Z.I.E.

He knocked on the trailer door, as he’d done countless times before, but unlike those other times, it wasn’t Eddie that opened the door. Steve found himself face-to-face with Wayne Munson, stern as ever. 

“He ain’t up for talking right now.”

“Is he home?” Steve asked, and Eddie must have heard him because heavy metal blared from inside the trailer, mocking Steve. “Is he okay?” 

“He will be.” 

“Look, Mr. Munson—can you just pass along a message to him or something?” 

“Depends.” He raised a brow. “What’ch’u got for ‘im?” 

“Just—tell him that I’m sorry. And that I talked to Robin and—uh—figured some stuff out.” 

If Steve didn’t know better, he’d think Wayne seemed pleasantly surprised at that. “Is that so?” 

“Yes, sir. So—er—I’d love to talk to him. Explain that I—what I figured out.” 

Wayne clapped Steve on the shoulder. “I’ll pass along ya message. You’re a good kid, Harrington. My boy’ll come ‘round. Glad ya got it sorted.” 

“Thanks, Mr. Munson.” An awkward silence befell them. “I’ll just—I’ll be home if he asks. Or if he wants to call. Or not. Either way. I’ll be home.”

Steve sat in his car a moment before pulling out, seriously considering barging back into the trailer to serenade Eddie. Then, he mentally cursed Henderson for his piss poor advice.