OPEN.

[babysitters]

text • voice • video • action

Comments

otherbitches. tfln.

[babysitters]

x

Wow, good for you. Should I get you a fucking medal, asshole? ( he means fucking as in expletive, not fucking as in sex, but it kinda works either way. also funny but like a shameful funny. why are dad jokes so funny to him now? depressing. he's gonna blame the joint.

he can blame the weed for the rest of this conversation, too. ) It's fine if I'm on top but, you know, riding? Ouch, man, jesus.

I'm not an old ass man, I'm not wearing jeans with buttons to my ribcage. And what's wrong with drying jeans? How are they gonna get dry if you don't?

[otherbitches]

yeah, man. finally.
ill put it up with my other fucking medals

[ yeah, no, that was funny Steve, and he doesn't even have a joint to blame. he'll just give Steve that one. the idea of a bunch of pretty medals and trophies lined up on his dresser from all the Hawkins girls he's moved through sounds really fun. and classy. ]

christ, youre so fucking lame
they make um with buttons, like, three of them, grandpa
its stylish
or you just get nicer jeans and the zipper isnt
wait ok wait

you air dry jeans, man. otherwise they shrink. its bad for the fiber
youre not even supposed to wash denim that much
unless you get um real filthy
buy better jeans and take care of them, its an INVESTMENT [ has he ever written or said this much at once? ]

thefreak. tfln.

[babysitters]

x

Yeah. Painkillers. I need those all the time. Okay. Okay.

( no. sober, Steve would realize there's no way that would fly. Eddie Munson left a baggie of unmarked pills in his car and Steve assumed they were tylenol? sure. not even he is that big of a bimbo. but since he's flying this seems like a reasonable excuse. )

I don't need your eye. One hour. ONE HOUR. Remember? ( he's not cool to drive but maybe he can be cool to stand behind the counter. right??? ) Backseat. The front seat was too fast.

[thefreak]

You're going to be fine. We'll get you out of this.

[ it was Eddie's dumb idiot carelessness that got Steve in this situation in the first place, so of course he was going to make sure nothing happened to him. and maybe he could pull a little sympathy out of Robin somehow and lessen the blow that way. only one way to find out? ]

Yeah, yeah, one hour. [ press X to doubt. ] I'm going to pretend that made sense. I'm leaving now, just stay put. [ and after a moment passes, another text comes through that's just -- ] Please?

keenely. tfln.

[babysitters]

x

It was the bulletin board at the gas station, so.

( he paid for his gas and then he came back and paid for something cold for his face, how is she not impressed by his responsible ingenuity??? )

I didn't start a fight. I started a lecture, on how not to be a fucking asshole.
He just needed extra convincing, that's all.

[keenely]

Did you really think someone like that was going to hear you out?

[ just taking a second to slowly drag both of her hands down her face like stitch in that one gif ]

Nevermind
Just
You're texting me, so obviously you didn't break your hand.
But is your vision okay? No floaters or anything, right? Spots?
You really should try to ice it properly. For an hour or two, at the very least.
It can help lessen the extent of how badly it bruises, if you haven't already waited too long. And it'll definitely help with any pain or swelling, either way.
But obviously don't just leave the ice on your face for an hour straight, that won't help.
Fifteen minutes on, twenty minutes off.
Or... maybe it's ten minutes on, fifteen off?
You know what? That part probably doesn't even matter as much as just doing it.

dnds. tfln.

[babysitters]

x

( right. he said what he said. his everything. his everything, really. and since bisexuality is really hard in small town Indiana, Steve is equally incapable of pushing the issue. because Eddie is just, like this. he calls dudes big boy and is always leaning too close in the midst of his dramatic monologuing. doesn't mean anything!

without the heart holding and bambi eyes to sell it, it does seem a little sarcastic. and it's not a nerve Steve wants to admit he has. so, better to just drop it. )

Yeah, yeah. Whatever, Munson.

( maybe Steve would have sulked a little longer, if it weren't for the intense amount of energy Eddie put into texting ... tabs? he's calling them tabs. they honestly look like the neck of a guitar, almost.

until the letters and numbers come in and his head swims a bit, even if Eddie makes it sound easy. )

Chords. Right? ( when you play notes together. he isn't entirely brand new, he's heard enough guitar and music in general to know some of the basics. ) I dunno. Look, I don't... Mrs. Neilson probably had a point, all right? I'm not sure I'll be any good at it.

( it's cool that Eddie thinks he can. it'll be less cool when Eddie realizes he can't figure it out. he can't fail if he doesn't ever try, right? flawless plan. )

[dnds]

chords!!! that's right
look at you, harrington

[ okay, so chords are like - universal knowledge when it comes to music composition, maybe not anything to get excited over, but - fuck that, honestly!! eddie's proud of this little knowledge nugget steve's tentatively tossed his way. ]

cmon man
you tried the drums for a few days and quit and like
nothing against mrs. neilson
but spend three days with me and a guitar
and people will be saying 'ozzy who?'

[ those are some... steep goals, and eddie will honestly be satisfied if by the end of three days steve can only play a handful of scales, but listen. he believes in steve. he wants steve to succeed. mostly for selfish reasons but that's not... important. ]

if you don't want to, you just gotta say the word and i'll back off
but if you do...
you just gotta trust me, man

flatteryworks. tfln.

[babysitters]

Yeah, yeah. So how toked are you right now, scale of 1-10?

( is it weird that he Just Knows how Eddie is when he's high? no, right? they smoke together enough, and Eddie is just blazed around him enough, it's hard not to notice the signs. like, asking weird questions. such as, hitting cheese with a bat.

it's cute. it's fine if Steve thinks that, just in his head. )

The whole idea about having safe conversation topics is that I don't have to talk about it, you know? ( maybe he'll talk about it eventually. frankly it is unavoidable. his parents wanting to sell the house he still lives in is pretty hard to dodge forever. Steve is just delaying the inevitable, for a little bit longer. ) I'll tell you when I'm not still wrapping my head around it, all right? I promise.

Boring can be good sometimes, man. Like, you know how it'll go, you don't have to get stressed or overthink it. Baseball is the best kind of boring. Someone hits the ball, someone runs, maybe someone makes it home and everyone cheers.

[guitarpicks]

Would you believe me if I said I'm stone cold sober? Ready to cross a river of firey lava to rescue some Kua-toan Blibdoolpoolp worshippers from certain death. [ lying through his teeth, actually. ] And all the other times I've been flying high as a bird in the sky?

[ there's a significant pause after this where eddie stares at his phone, trying to craft a more sober follow up to a very fair call out here. ]

Yeah. Sorry. [ steve did say he didn't to think about it but eddie's-- eddie's worried. and definitely blazed, it's harder to filter. it's also that he's more comfortable with steve than pretty much anyone at this point, doesn't always actively filter out what's top of mind. ] Sorry. You don't have to tell me at all, if you don't want to. No pressure, man. [ he's not sure how to convey that genuinely and baseball is their out. right? ]

Plenty of people stress out. Like if their team misses a home run or strikes out. [ he actually does remember from his little league summer. a lifetime ago before a spiral downhill toward troubles that inevitably lead to more trouble. ] Talk to the local bookies. They'll tell you some shit. No one can guarantee cheering.

You can guarantee hotdogs though. I haven't had a quality hotdog in ages. Do you think anywhere that sells them is open right now???

cheerleader. tfln.

[babysitters]

x )

Yeah, he pulled the whole lean on my car move. ( damn!!! that was his move!!! he can't believe that it came back to bite him in the ass!!! )

Okay, I made it a little worse. Saying if he was less of an asshole he could get another girl didn't improve the situation. And I didn't say it to improve the situation, actually.

( LOOK!!! OKAY!!! he's not perfect!! Jason has been an angry sattelite orbiting their relationship since before it started, which is ironic. Steve is tired of worrying if Jason will harass Chrissy at her locker, or if one if these days he's gonna do something more severe than muttered threats and pissy looks across a room. not to him, because Steve's face has muscle memory of somebody else's knuckles in it, at this point.

he's not scared for him. he's scared for Chrissy. especially after tonight. Jason reminded him of Billy, almost, that blind anger, that rage that couldn't stop. maybe it wouldn't have, if Steve hadn't played dirty and kneed him in the dick. that kind of anger, nobody is safe from. nobody. )

You can come over, Chrissy, I just... I don't want you to feel bad about this. It isn't your fault the guy is a psycho, either, you know? It's not.

[cheerleader]

[She won't ever own up to laughing a little at that first part. As worried as she is about Steve, she almost wishes she had been there to see him sass Jason and work him up. And maybe if she had been there, they wouldn't have fought. But what's happened is unable to be taken back. Steve and Jason did fight. And now they'll have to figure out what the fallout from that might be.]

I'd feel bad about this, no matter who hurt you. I don't like to see you hurt.

[but now he is, and she's already gathering up things to bring over to his place because she knows he doesn't have any of them there in his bathroom. There's too many hair care products everywhere for there to be room for that.]

He still comes by sometimes to try and talk to me. And can be a little intense at school. I'm scared of what he might do when it finally sinks in that he's not ever getting me back.

[The fact that he's delusional enough to think that he'll be able to "win" her again is scary enough. But being afraid he might hurt Steve worse, or even lash out at her? No matter what happens, he'll always be in the right, just because he's Jason Carver.]

howandwhen. fast times at wherever the hell we want.

[babysitters]

( Robin is his bestie. okay? hands down. that Steve managed to score some weed for this event was a lot of doing. he's a posh rich boy and Tommy was his connect, back in the day. trying to work backwards to figure out where to get some grass without talking to Tommy H was a bit of an ordeal. it was worth it, though, because now he has an option for if he wants to get blitzed! win win. anyway, it's especially a win if he gets Robin blazed and laughing like she did the time she confessed russian interrogators made her pee her pants a little, just without the bonesaws. preferably.

when Robin just busts into his house like she owns the place (which is fine, his casa es su casa, its not like his parents are ever around to be alarmed by the band girl busting in their front door), Steve is in the kitchen, killing some of the Pringles he got as a munchie option. him, he's a sweets guy, but who knows what sort of stuff Robin vibes on when she's high. ) You picked somethin', right? I'm ready to laugh. I hope there's somebody with a serious mustache.

( what is a serious mustache? jury is out. you know he talked through chip crumbs, too. sorry, Robin, this is your bestie. this is what you're stuck with. )

[howandwhen]

[the last time they were blitzed, Robin ate from-a-trash-can popcorn with him. it would probably be hypocritical if she said anything about talking through crumbs.

She still might, at some point. roasting can count as a love language, right? if not, too late now, you're also stuck with her, Steve.]

Well - I mostly picked something. There's a couple options. The first option I came up with was a James Bond movie and then I spent like a half an hour trying to figure out if I picked that because I just associate spies with getting high now? And THEN I spent a half an hour wondering if we'd hate it cause of that so I also grabbed twelve angry men because I figured angry guys would definitely be funny but I didn't read the back and it might be too serious. And then I also grabbed Gremlins.

[probably one of those features a serious mustache.]

cheersquads. tfln.

[babysitters]

x

I wouldn't do that. ...On purpose.

You know, we could catch dinner or something. If I'm actively eating I could focus better on whatever you wanna talk about.

[cheersquads]

Dinner, huh?
Is that...like...a date?

micronaps. tfln.

[babysitters]

x

Yeah, good call. I've got a whole garden supply store in here, and that's after trying to shake my shirt out.

Cool. Me too, man. I got you. Just don't get too crazy, all right? If I'm already a goner it's better if you get out.

[micronap]

Exactly how much hair is under there that you can build a bird's nest? Are you secretly Bigfoot? Should I be concerned? I didn't have consent to go checking under your clothes but I'm feeling bad I left an entire forest glued to you now.

Cool. All right but no promises. You came in here with people that need you and I didn't.

3:38am

[keenely]

If someone offered to give you the power to read minds, would you do it?

4:21

[babysitters]

( there's a slight delay, if only because they didn't think to time their night terrors. pretty dumb, ngl. )

No. God no. Not a chance. I clock teenagers for thinking the wrong thing without hearing their thoughts, I can't afford more insight on why people deserve to get clocked.

(Have not punched anyone, FYI. Tell Holly that bracelet is really working out.)

tfln. 8.26.22.

[babysitters]

1. I'd like to thank you for ensuring I didn't die. I'd also like to show you the most impressive bruise you will perhaps ever see.
2. I can't remember what I did last night, but judging from the state of my hair I had a pretty good time.
3. I really get why people get high. I sat in the same chair for about 3 hours and the only thing I worried about was how far away my Chinese food was.
4. No. No! We are not having sex in the pool. Not happening.

5. ...or text him!

howandwhen.

[babysitters]

I don't care. This is not an optional part of our friendship.

micronaps.

[babysitters]

I don't know. Kinda rational. ( Steve can't help but feel bad that he never noticed people he should have because he was too busy trying to rein in Tommy. too concerned with seeming cool. too busy keeping up appearances to realize they didn't really matter that much, anyway. ) Not funny looking, smartass. Funny haha. And yeah, she did. I wish I'd known her in highschool.

Of course I like my car. It's a BMW 733i. A sweet car, okay? Trust me. ( Steve gets the sense Quentin is not a car guy. ) I don't think the car gets me going, but I do like car sex. So kinda, but not really.

I miss everything from home, at least a little. But in general? No. ( Steve doesn't regret cutting ties with Tommy and Carol, even if his social life took a nosedive after. ) Fine. We can hug, if you really want to. And I think she's more the, pretend I don't want one and somehow make something hug adjacent happen and then act like it wasn't a hug after it's over, type.

( did that make sense, Quentin? well, too bad, Steve is sticking to that interpretation. )

[micronap]

Were you that bad? What’s the worst you could have done? Nobody’s obligated to forgive you but it’s not something you should hold on to yourself. [ Steve bully is so hard to picture for him. Except maybe when he wears those tan khakis. It just screams “I own a yacht” or something. ] You opened the door to bad jokes. Mm. Better late than never.

Yeah, I know what a BMW is. That’s pricey. [ He’s had like Hot Wheels at some point?? Practically an car expert, right? Nah, he’s drawing a blank. He is not a car guy and has no idea what this specific car would look like but Brand Names are known. ] So a little of both?

Everything? I guess I do too. Good riddance to bad friends. … Yeah? Cool. Not too weird? It’ll have those bro pats on the back to make it less awkward. That sounds like Laurie alright.

nightmares & rainy days

[guitarpicks]

[ thunderstorms are a normal part of the height of summer. as a kid, eddie used to love the way the skies darkened and the clouds rolled in. fuck, he'd loved it until spring break turned his world around and turned his anxious ass into something even more on edge at an unknown sound.

time is supposed to ease all wounds but, well, it's hard when you live in a place where the ground's opened up and the world looks like a hellscape still. go figure.

eddie doesn't normally make it a habit to stay out too late, not since everything happened. part of it is that hawkins isn't exaclty safe at night for him too, but it's mainly because he has plenty of reason to go home and enjoy his time there now. steve and he have been roommates for a while now, have settled into a comfortable routine that eddie is really aware crosses the line from roommates into a thing they aren't naming. he rarely sleeps in his own bed anymore; recently, steve kissed him goodbye in the morning and that's not a thing two friends who just fuck around do.

robin probably hates getting texts from eddie at this point but he's kinda had to up them since he took steve out for a date, only to realize steve didn't think it was a date. his ego has been bruised for weeks since.

normally, eddie's home before 10:00pm at the latest. he's really been killing the whole bad boy, drug dealer vibe since graduating but it's probably a good thing if he ever wants to find legitimate work. that may not happen in hawkins at this rate, sure, but one day out there. tonight's an anomaly. eddie's not hosting game night at their place, goes to dustin's instead and then gets roped in for dinner, after that he has a business transaction -- a supply restock -- that takes him an hour and a half out of town. the drive back's a bitch and by that point it's storming outside, raining hard with thunder clashing in the distance and lightening dancing along the sky. it's not a great time to be driving a van with a broken window.

by the time he slips into the apartment, it's well past two in the morning and eddie feels like a soaked cat. normally, if he were home earlier, he would probably shower, dry off, and see if he could weasel his way into steve's bed for the night. that's surprisingly easy recently. tonight, though, it's so late that he doesn't want to risk waking steve up. so instead he tries to move around as quietly as he can manage, gets ready for bed and heads into his own bedroom for the first time in a few days. he's cleaned recently, actually cleaned the whole apartment and crossed everything off the list steve left behind; there's room on the bed for two people tonight, his whole room looks (relatively) organized and not like a whirlwind passed through.

eddie slips under the covers and frowns, feels anxiety rising as thunder crashes overhead. it takes him a while to drift off to sleep and it's not comfortable; sleeping alone has gotten harder, he misses the warmth of steve's arm thrown around his waist and their legs tangled together. it's not supposed to be a thing he misses, sure, but eddie can admit that he's got it bad.

he's not really asleep, more on the edge of it, when he hears movement in the apartment and then his door handle shaking. eddie yelps, scrambles back against his headboard without really checking what the fuck's going on and finds himself tangled in his sheets, eyes unfocused as he tries to figure out what's going on with his door. ]

[babysitters]

( Steve didn't realize how much easier it was to fall asleep with Eddie around, until suddenly, he's not.

not even necessarily when they're in the same room. same bed. even when they're just in the same 1000 square feet, Steve sleeps better than he used to in the cavernous house he was raised in. Eddie's music bleeding through paper-thin walls, his idle movements around their shared space. something about it is reassuring, makes it easier to sleep. and then, as stubborn as Steve can be about... a lot of things. he can't deny that he's never slept better with both of them making the most of limited space in his bed. however it happens, it's easier to sleep, and stay asleep, with Eddie's breathing echoing off his walls. the heat of his body barely a reach away.

which makes the clock crawling later and later a little more intimidating, when Eddie isn't home. before Steve had a roommate, when he was too on edge to sleep, he just... didn't. waited to pass out somewhere, instead of forcing it. sometimes he still avoids it, and ends up falling asleep on the couch to the Late Show and waking up again anyway when Eddie gets home. but there's something about having someone around to notice that makes him want to get his act together. Eddie wouldn't think less of him, for struggling to sleep. Steve knows that.

he just doesn't want him to have another thing to worry about, that's all.

so as the storm drummed on the roof and it got later, and later, Steve begrudgingly put himself to bed. tried not to think about how empty it felt, with only him in it. or how much he missed the steady light of Eddie reading something next to him, because even sharing a bed so frequently, there's a lot more night owl in Eddie than there is in Steve himself. it felt like it took hours, to fall asleep. but he did! eventually.

the thing is, Steve hasn't ever been that bad at getting to sleep. even after the worst of it, usually his brain and body both would exhaust eventually. and then falling asleep wasn't that hard at all. it's staying asleep, that was the problem. when he's awake, Steve can avoid thinking about things, dwelling on things, push himself into something else as a distraction. asleep, there's nothing to protect him from himself. from things he doesn't know what to deal with, how to recover from. things that scare him, still, even if he's survived them. things that won't go away, but at least feel farther off when he's awake and can try and push himself into something else.

it's been awhile. not since he had a nightmare. he's had a couple since he moved in with Eddie, it's not like they're entirely gone. it's just that usually he wakes and can talk himself down. Eddie's arm slung across his chest always manages to ground him, in what is actually real. Steve is pretty sure he's never woke Eddie up with one, which is for the best. Eddie is new to all this, his nightmares seem worse, more frequent — the last thing he needs is to deal with Steve's shit, too. let him get what sleep he can. it's been awhile since it was this bad, though. waking up like the vines are still constricting around his throat. chest tight, heartbeat racing, the harrowing uncertainty whether he's really awake or if this is just the next layer of his subconscious, determined to remind him of all the things he's terrified of losing.

it's dumb, to desperately clutch the sheets where Eddie should be, because in the back of Steve's brain he knows Eddie's just in his own bed. or on the couch. or out still, or somewhere. not entirely gone. it's just, it turns out, that dreaming horrible things that feel so real, is pretty excruciating. he's been through it before, eventually, he either calms down again or his body shuts down from the panic, and... well, passed out again is technically calmer, right? right. but dreaming about finding Eddie dead and the horrific noises Dustin made as he sobbed, it's just not a reality Steve wants to let stay in his head. it's as easy as getting across the hall or to the couch and confirming Eddie is fine, and then he'll be fine too. doesn't even have to wake Eddie up! all he has to do is see him.

that was the idea, except, checking the couch and finding nothing just made the panic worse and Steve practically dreaded opening the door. like he might open it and find nothing, and the dream would be real, even though that made no practical sense. Eddie's stuff is all over the damn apartment, his jacket is slung over the back of the couch even though they have a coat closet for these things, a pile of books is stacked on the side table even though realistically nobody can read five books at once and why can't he just pick one to live on the table that is supposed to be for drinks, and a lamp! Steve has to open it anyway. the crushing relief to see Eddie's dark curly head smashed against his pillow, a hint of a grimace on his face as the thunder cracks outside, is overwhelming.

Steve was gonna go back to his room. he was. that was the grand plan. only... only... seeing Eddie fine doesn't exactly send Steve back to net neutral like it was supposed to. he can't imagine going back to his empty room and empty bed when Eddie is right there. he doesn't have to wake him up, right? to crawl in behind him. he doesn't have to touch him. Eddie is there, he's fine, he's alive, there's no need to confirm anything, only by the time Steve gets close enough it's impossible not to. arms snaking around him in a way that might be a little too tight, maybe even a little desperate. he feels better and he doesn't, holding onto Eddie like he's an anchor. Steve presses a damp face to Eddie's shoulder and tries to quell the panic still racing through him. he's fine, he's fine, he's fine. if he doesn't chill the fuck out, Eddie will wake up, and be less fine, because he's not fine. so he needs to be fine! if only it were as simple as that. )

✦ on the road trip, chore day

[guitarpicks]

have i mentioned that laundry is worst chore? because it is, man. [ he's probably mentioned that at least five times since they moved in together and this line of thinking is why he's always pushing it when it comes to doing his own; always running out of shirts and being forced to borrow steve's. also why his bed is not usable most of the time because it's covered in clothes. sue him. ]

i got the short end of the stick here. [ there's a joke in here; the only reason eddie's stuck with the chore that involves sitting is because between the VERY INTENSE HIKE that was undersold to him and fucking around last night, he's kind of wrecked. there was nothing short about the stick he got, but he's not making the joke this time. ]

i might wither away from boredom before you come back with groceries. i'll be nothing but skin and bone left staring into the blackhole abyss of this industrial dryer. [ dramatic? yes. it's also what he gets for bringing one book with him into the coin-op when steve's got the van for all the other errands.

so, great but bored boyfriend friend and roommate that he is, he's going to subject steve to his random thoughts. ] what do you think falling into a blackhole would feel like? like worse than alternate dimension? probably, right? then again, could be the same thing.

[babysitters]

Dishes are the worst chore. Hands down.

( so much for letting Eddie have opinions!! Steve is adamant, though. he kinda likes doing the laundry! clothes come out all nice and warm and fluffy. if he and Eddie are feeling especially bold that nobody is going to want to use the laundry room, sitting on the dryer and lazily making out is also fun. no, laundry is fine, doing the dishes is the worst. it's a chore they haven't had to do as much lately, and Steve is still happy to complain about it unprovoked. )

You're being extremely dramatic. What happened to, oh, go on with out me. Lest I fade from this mortal coil, and be to you naught but a fleeting, pleasant memory. ( Steve is not paraphrasing, he wouldn't hope to have that kind of shakespearan dialogue on command. it was funny, but also kind of charming?? sexy??? no, too far to be monologued at like that. possibly why Steve remembers it word for word. ) Which was also extremely dramatic, by the way.

Worse. Those things are fucking freaky. ( he's survived an Upside Down portal. he's not gonna assume the same about a black hole. )

2:18am

[keenely]

[ we interrupt tonight's semi-regularly scheduled text message to bring you-

a phone call instead?
yep.

ring-a-ling! ]

[babysitters]

( look, it does happen. sometimes, even a guy with plenty of upside down trauma is actually asleep at 2:18am. he's got work in the morning! and he's supposed to drive Dustin to his club meeting at 8. he's being responsible! and sleeping. however, a phone ringing cuts through his subconscious like a hot knife through butter. could be good, could be bad, could just be somebody needs something. could be one of the california crew wants a chat at an almost reasonable 11pm. no matter what, his brain insists Steve be awake for it.

so he bolts out of sleep like somebody pinched him, has a moment of uncertain staring around his room (why is he awake all of a sudden?) before the phone rings again and he fumbles at his side table. it unfortunately sends his phone skidding wildly across the floor. and Steve awkwardly mostly falling out of bed after it, because his fine motor control isn't totally awake yet. Steve flops into a prone position on the floor, because sitting up is too much before his brain wakes up more, but he can at least manage, ) -mmlo? Hello. ( very convincing. nobody would think he was just asleep at all. )

documentary.

[babysitters]

x

California swiss rolls, huh? They taste any different? We'll see if you still want the company after you clear up and then maybe.

( California sounds cool. sort of a drive, but Steve likes driving! how hard would he have to bully Jonathan into going to the beach? it feels like a lot, but it'd be worth it. )

Some ride, if they lose their designated... rider? Is that what you'd call it?

[documentary]

The only non-Californian swiss rolls I've had were from Mrs Wheeler and I wasn't high eating those. It's really hard to say if they're actually different or not. They're both really good. I'll still want company, probably. I'm learning about how people are kind of nice to have around and shit.

[ Eleven and Will have whined him into going once so far and he wasn't fond of it. Good pictures though. ]

That sounds about right. He's a fantastic ride and very reliable, Steve. I got lost on him.

tfln. 9.30.22.

[babysitters]

1. Not only do I have a well-defined bite mark on my arm, but I also have a perfectly clear bruise of a handprint wrapped around my arm like a tribal tattoo. Thoughts on how that happened?
2. I feel like I am becoming dumber sitting here in class than I would be sitting on the couch smoking weed.
3. YOU DON'T JUST GET TO TEXT AND SAY YOU MIGHT BE DEAD, THEN NOT ANSWER!
4. Didn't get laid. But got a free pie from a waitress. A whole pie.

polemical.

[babysitters]

Pretty sure you use your tongue for tasting, Munson.

tfln. 10.21.22.

[babysitters]

1. You know you had a good night when you wake up cuddling a baseball bat and a can of chicken noodle soup.
2. On another note, convinced a 9 year old my hickey was actually a zombie bite. Wish Dustin was still that gullible.
3. False alarm, still single.

DBD AU.
4. So we're both seeing the tower of fire at 12:00, right? Just checking I haven't completely cracked after three different iterations of gross cake in this shithole.
5. If you were worried about it, I did get out before the floor was completely on fire. And I bet the bleeding will stop soon.

6. ...or text him!

thefreak.

[babysitters]

Great ideas but neither were options at the time. Besides, a bat can keep you safer than a Carebear. ...Does this mean you've got stuffed animals kickin' around, Munson?

No, no. Not under your pillow. Put it between your mattresses, that way you won't give yourself an awkward haircut on accident.

come here and hug me bro

[micronap]

[ There's about 5 minutes of utter silence at camp after one of the most exhausting trials ever where Quentin's sitting nearby, doing that thing where his eyes drop and he jerks upright. Once. Twice. And then just ...eyeing Steve.

Maybe this is, perhaps, a horribly stupid idea but he is really fucking tired. ]

Can I use your shoulder like a pillow? [ Yeah, he really is just straight up asking that. It's not weird. This is normal. ]

[babysitters]

( it is quiet. Steve can't decide if it's a nice quiet, everyone is calm and kinda safe and mostly relaxed quiet, or if it's one of those calm before the storm quiets where everyones insides are too tied up in stressful knots to talk. for his part, he's somewhere in the middle. the campfire is comforting, but Steve doesn't trust it, either. kinda like moths that run into lamps until they die; he's not totally sure the campfire is as safe as it feels.

he's definitely zoned out into some himbo middle distance, though, head propped in his hand thinking about things and nothing at once. Steve doesn't realize Quentin was asking him something, specifically, until the fact Quentin's looking at him with that kicked puppy face of his registers. ) Huh? ( intelligent start to the conversation, nice job, Steve. it takes him a second to reel back the tape of his thoughts to make sense of the words he'd been tuned out for. ) Oh. Uh...

( well... Quentin sure says that like it's just a normal thing to ask. Steve can't think of anybody who has ever just said that to him, usually it happens on accident. or accidentally on purpose, perhaps. and it isn't like ith's happened that often, anyhow. he's surely never had someone request his shoulder to lean on, and his expression puckers for a second as he thinks about it. a few years ago, he'd probably have made up some big storm of the rejection, to prove his expected indifference. this many years in the fog (and his friendship with Robin helping to warm him to the idea he can be who he wants to be instead of who people expect him to be), Steve doesn't see the point in rejecting someone comfort when it won't hurt him any. might help him, too, if he's honest. )

Okay. Yeah? Yeah. ( very articulate as always. LOOK, this is not exactly something he's used to. all right??? give him a break! )

fast times at the carnival

[guitarpicks]

[ eddie can't remember the last time he'd gone to a county fair or a carnival. it comes down to a couple of things, actually. mostly that his dad wasn't exactly a 'take your kid to the faire' sort of guy even during the times he could afford it. then when eddie had moved in with wayne, he was in the custody of a guardian who really couldn't afford it and eddie was already on the cusp of those moody teenage years where he wasn't going to go do something that lame even if he could.

as a nerd, going to places like faires always included the risk of running into school bullies anyway. plus, it was normally hot and humid, so eddie's every growing all black wardrobe really wasn't going to do him favors there.

were these all bullshit reasons? maybe.

but that means that somehow the trip two counties over, far away from hawkin's and it's trenches, is eddie's first trip to the fair that's not just him loitering outside and not even sneaking in. steve does give him a hard time about it because who the fuck lives in indiana and hasn't gone to a carnival? fucking rude, man. eddie's going to drag him into the fun house for that one. maybe they can sneak a kiss there or the corn maze, or something, he thinks on the drive over.

not surprisingly, even though he's in blue jeans, eddie's still wearing a black t-shirt and sweating up a storm under the summer sun before they're even in side. but he's quick to forget how uncomfortable he is because steve's kind of set on showing him a good time, dragging him from game to game with enthusiasm that has eddie grinning too as they shoot the shit or go head to head in any game that allows it. eddie pretty much loses each time. ]

I'm starting to think this whole place is rigged in your favor, Steve. [ eddie bumps his shoulder against steve's as they walk away from one of the water gun shooting games which is totally about hand eye coordination that eddie doesn't have. is he whining even as he's grinning? maybe. ] If you pull some shit like win the grand prize on the sledgehammer game, man, I'll know for sure.

[ teasing? yes. blatantly hoping to just oogle steve's arms a little? also yes. fucking sue him. ]

[babysitters]

( yes, if there were ever a time for Eddie to contemplate the dark side (read: wearing a polo), this would be it. it's dry and beating out, probably a better day to hit a pool than a fair. Steve can feel the sun making the tip of his nose and cheeks pink even though Eddie had slathered him with sunscreen after much groaning and nay-saying. he smells more like SPF than his aftershave, which strikes Steve as a little unsexy, though obviously he's not trying to be sexy right now! just, if he was, smelling like sunscreen really isn't the vibe he goes for.

still, this is an opportunity Steve feels like they can't waste. they're outside the toxic and insular vice of Hawkins, people don't look at Eddie like he's this close to satanically cursing their children. cleared of all charges according to the law didn't mean shit to people that didn't base their opinions on the facts, anyway. they just couldn't get away with this at home, which is a little depressing. for all sorts of reasons.

whatever. doesn't matter! because they're here, and after one fair you've probably been to them all. it isn't even Eddie's vibe, probably, but Steve is strangely delighted the guy has decided to tolerate it anyway. he is trying to not be unbearably obvious about it, okay, he's got a reputation to uphold. but any time he tries to maintain a sober and neutral expression, Eddie bumps his shoulder into his or does that thing with his eyebrows or leans a little too close and Steve can't keep it up. fading into a laugh or a smile or both.

this time it's both. )

C'mon. You've seen the guns. If I'm gonna win anything, it's the Feat of Strength. Or... shit, you think there's a free throw game? ( because he could make a killing at that, too. Billy throwing him on the floor all the time aside, free throws had been his thing, back when he was on the team. he'd pulled back games for them with his consistency, a couple times. a rinky dink free throw game would be easy. maybe it's kind of nice to get the chance to show off he's good at something. doesn't come up that often, is all. )

voice;

[keenely]

[ so it's actually been a minute since nancy went more than a couple days without talking to steve - over the phone or texting or in person or anything - let alone a WEEK, but. well. jonathan had finally decided to grace hawkins with his presence for a long weekend, and... yeah.

it was a lot. jonathan's caught a flight back to california a little over three days ago, and it's still a lot. and it's not like she thought it would be an easy-breezy breakup that would leave plenty of time for an easy-breezy weekend to busy herself with other things, but it was just- it was a lot more fighting than she was expecting. too many things bottled up, apparently, somehow more on his end than hers. so she's spent the majority of those three-ish days not doing much of anything, besides sit on the couch and alternate between reading and watching tv and napping-not-sleeping. she doesn't exactly feel crushed, or depressed, just- tired.

she's refused to do the stereotypical breakup routine, with the ice cream, and the crying, and the curling up in bed wondering where it all went wrong, or loudly ranting about the same thing. and honestly?? she was mostly successful. but then karen had to be all KAREN about it, because she knew something was wrong, has probably known this whole time that his visit wasn't going to be a happy occasion. and after giving her some space for those couple of days, she had a tin of freshly baked cookies in hand when she finally approached nancy and joined her on the couch.

anyway.

that was a few hours ago, and she does feel more human, at least. and the breakup feels more real now than it did before they talked, so... that's probably a good sign. processing, or whatever. although now she's staring at her phone, thinking over her mom's last bit of advice, of "oh, and nance? call steve. he's probably worried about you.". she actually managed to ditch the coy and knowing tone she uses anytime she talks about steve lately, so. yeah, it's probably good advice.

plus, it's not exactly a daunting ask. she's missed him. she actually really could have used a steve harrington hug or- ten ( cheeseball, she knows, shut up ), over the last few days. but every time she thought about calling him before today, it didn't really feel right. in retrospect, it makes sense. she's really glad that her mom was the first person she talked to about all of it. she knew it wasn't selfish to let herself be messy with her - to let herself cycle through being mean and sad and sarcastic and disappointed and relieved and everything in between - and to still expect her to hug her and tell her that she wasn't a bad person for feeling all of those things. it's good she did that first, because now it feels right. now she's not calling him because she needs comfort, she's calling because she needs him.

when she calls, the phone only rings three times before he answers it, and the way that makes her smile is all there in her tone, packed into a quiet- ]

Hi, Steve.

[babysitters]

( this has, truly, been hell on earth.

not that Steve assumed Jonathan being back in town meant everything that he's come to know is untrue. like the unhappy, pinched look on Nancy's face when someone asked if she's heard from Jonathan lately. or how she falls silent when she brings him up without thinking and remembers the everything between them that isn't the 2000 miles between Hawkins and California. like Steve doesn't know, at least a little, that there's some storm of something that isn't entirely p l a t o n i c between them. getting worse every day, even if they both make a point of going the wide way around it when they notice it. Steve doesn't think those things have changed at all.

it's just... he's never understood it. what Nancy saw, and wanted, and needed, in Jonathan. and if the second he showed up again she'd remember it, that spark between them that brought them together in the first place. if, just maybe, it was bright enough to hold onto. even if things weren't. good. right now. Nancy isn't a quitter and if she thinks there's something worth fighting for, she'll fight forever. Steve doesn't even hate the guy, anymore, they've all been through too much to hate each other. the best way Steve's ever been able to deal with it is that Jonathan seemed to be what Nancy wanted. Steve just wants Nancy to be happy. hell, Jonathan too. if they made each other happy, wasn't it better to just accept it?

and not understanding it means it is hard to know, that's all. if the silence might mean that they figured it out. Mike confirmed Jon went home two days ago, with an eyeroll like that was obvious. Dustin had at least had the grace to look sympathetic about it. Mike was probably too cranky about Jane being equally gone to be a brat about the potential of Steve finding the unknowns in this situation intimidating. thank god, Mike was sort of an asshole when he wanted to be.

Steve thought about calling. as a friend, he could call. right? or is it more a friend thing to let Nancy come to him when he's ready? it's hugely conflicting. tomorrow, maybe. maybe he'll call then. Steve knows pushing Nancy Wheeler before she's ready to be pushed results in talking to a brick wall. kinda hilarious, considering how tiny she is, but nope, she's not going anywhere emotionally until her tiny body is ready. pushing her just makes her break or retreat, and Steve wants neither. so. wait. waiting! he's waiting. he can wait a little longer for Nancy Wheeler. he's just started to realize how long that maybe he has been. whats a few more days, to know for sure?

when he picks up, he answers immediately, ) For the last time, Henderson, no, I am not moping— oh. ( the air feels punched out of his lungs at the tiny, uncertain, maybe even a little hopeful voice on the other side of the line. ) Hi, ( Steve returns, and fuck. it's... wow, the shift from Dustin damage control to oh it is Nancy is so unbearably soft and obvious, yikes. his tone is all the same shades Nancy's is, maybe a few more scoops of uncertain and a nice undercurrent of anxiety as mix ins. relieved, too, more than he realized he would be. it's just been too long, that's all. )

thefreak.

[babysitters]

( it's been a rough few weeks.

understatement of the fucking century, actually. first week of October, his life had felt about as good as it ever has. with the girl of his dreams. contemplating schools for after graduation, like he was smart enough to actually go. a place at school, without having to play up the King of the Assholes schtick. his grades were even kinda okay. and then by the end of it, it's hard not to look at the shambles left behind a little awestruck. like it shouldn't have been able to fall apart so fast. maybe that's the proof of how none of it was particularly real, a nice facade that everyone seemed to buy until Billy Hargrove punched a hole through it.

even Steve bought it, for a bit there.

it's November now and the entire world looks a little different. and not just because somebody broke a plate over Steve's face, and his eyes have deeply protested florescent ever since. walking the halls of Hawkins High feels strange. he feels like a ghost, a not particularly welcome presence that everybody remembers and refuses to look in the eye, like that'll make it go away. some people still talk to him, sure, it's just... it's different. it's like the whole goddamn school pities him. each and every classmate decided that he's bullshit, somewhere between Nancy breaking up with him and Billy beating his face in. Steve wishes he could correct them, but he doesn't exactly have a leg to stand on there, now does he.

he got to take a few weeks off. the hospital called his mom when he got his face looked at after the whole... everything, and she'd felt bad enough for not being around that she told the school they were on vacation. she even stuck around, awhile. that was nice. but eventually Steve has to go back and while the worst of it is healed, he's a walking certification of all the shit Billy must have been talking up around social circles. it was a hell of a fight and he hadn't walked away the victor. it's been less than 7 hours back and he's even more miserable than he was laid out across the couch in his den.

sunglasses hide the worst of the bruising that is left. but they sure make him look like an asshole, as he leans against the locker next to the one Eddie is fishing in. he's certainly never spoken to Eddie Munson before. or... Steve is pretty sure he hasn't. Tommy did all the talking for him, as if having somebody else buy his joints would make it less disappointing, if his dad ever found out about it. it feels spectacularly low to be out chasing his own score, but Steve wants some weed more than he wants to pretend he's above it. he feels distinctly outside of his element, as Eddie looks at him like he grew a second head. but hey, when doesn't he feel like that, these days? ) Hey, ( Steve says, attempting cool indifference, but it's hard to land that when you look like a complete asshole with sunglasses on inside. )

[thefreak]

[ the whole year has been going by in something of a blur. maybe it's because Eddie's been held back from graduating, his grades having plummeted miserably towards the end of last year. or maybe it's because Billy Hargrove has been making life just a little bit harder for the freaks like him, leading to Eddie spending more and more lunches avoiding the cafeteria altogether.

despite being held back, he isn't dumb. he just doesn't care enough about the social hierarchy at Hawkins High to pay attention as to why Steve Harrington suddenly doesn't wear a crown upon his head anymore. he's still a douchebag, as far as Eddie's concerned, and that's enough to try and avoid him as well.

the key word being try. there is a noticeable lack of Harrington in the halls, which should probably be a concern, right? or maybe the real concern is why Eddie is suddenly concerned at all. but he does notice that Harrington hasn't been coming to classes -- how can he not when they're in the same grade now? -- but he tries to pretend like it's not something that he has been at all concerned about as he open his locker and roots around the messy stack of books and papers for what he will need for his next set of classes.

he doesn't expect Harrington to be there, and he especially doesn't expect His Majesty to acknowledge his presence in the slightest, so at first he doesn't respond. because surely Steve isn't talking to him. even though he knows fully well that his locker nor Nancy's nor even fucking Tommy H's is near Eddie's.

finally, he turns slowly to face Steve with a perplexed look on his face. ] Uh...hi. Can...I help you with something?

tfln. 11.04.22. now featuring the ability to count! eta ft the ability to link!

[babysitters]

1. I can hardly tell the difference between falling asleep and passing out anymore.
2. You covered in salsa con queso would take care of all of my cravings right now.
3. Long story short... we may or may not have lost your car.
4. It felt great physically, but AWFUL morally.

DBD FLAVOR.
5. My finger is gonna grow back, right?
6. Is it weird to miss the pumpkins? I miss the pumpkins.

keenely.

[babysitters]

We could lush you up too if you'd just come over already.

( this isn't the first time he's smoked a little and overshared with Nancy. tbh wanting her to come over so they can eat chocolate and fool around is much less embarrassing than the last time he did this, so! Steve has no idea what Nancy's opinion of smoking weed is, he thinks if she'd try it she might like it. there's all sorts of ways he could introduce her to it, too. just. so much harder when she's not here. )

I mean, so maybe I made sure they were around if you wanted one. That's just... that's... that's for the good of both of us, really.

Everything, huh? Wow. We should catch an Indians game, then, they haven't been completely awful so far this season. ( since! she's so into baseball! every part of it! )

[guitarpicks]

i am officially about to become a slave to the capitalist machine :( [ what a sad way to announce that you’re going to be able to pay rent legitimately, edward. ]

[babysitters]

Have you been hanging out with Erica again? What the hell is that supposed to mean?

tfln. 12.2.22.

[babysitters]

dyinglights.

[babysitters]

x

Are you kidding? I'm already cursed with scoops. I had that job two goddamn months and I'm still murdered in the uniform on the regular.

I'd curse you to having to compliment Dwight after a trial. Or bald, because I'm not gonna be the only baldy running around.